Mistletoe and Whine

Just came back from the last UEA CWS open mic of the year.  I’m on a certain antibiotic at the moment which is supposed to give you an insane headache if you drink alcohol on it so I spent 60p on two pints of blackcurrant squash.  Seeing as I’ve already spent nearly all my money on Christmas presents, this no drinking thing is probably for the best.  I’ve been going to alcohol counselling in an attempt to stop binge drinking and develop a healthier relationship with alcohol so it was interesting when I went to the last LitSoc social sober.  The pub crawl part was actually really fun, and I think I made the most effort of anyone with the two members (who weren’t the committee or friends of the committee) that showed up.  The club was where it went downhill.  I hadn’t heard good things about the change from Po Na Na’s to Lola Lo’s but I went in with an open mind.  Sadly, I couldn’t take advantage of the free vodka, and the mince pies never turned up.  From then on, I felt like I was waiting for people to get drunk, and couldn’t really talk as the music was so loud.  Eventually some of us danced for a bit, but then the others got fed up and I left early with a few people.  It was around 1am so I felt that was an okay time, considering I still had lots of coursework to do!

Anyway, back to tonight.  I felt more nervous as I don’t think I have done a gig without a little dutch courage for over a year at Starbucks (they don’t do alcohol).   Anyway, I felt like it went well and got a couple of compliments, not only on my poetry but also my outfit – Reko dress, white tights, vintage shoes and a Father Christmas hat.  I got to speak to Leo Hunt who I remember liking the last time, and he’s a nice chap.  I also remembered how much I adore Greta Healey’s voice; again, I think my Words & Music lecturer would like it.  Anyway, I read a new poem called I Am No Better which was inspired by events at Hop Farm Festival last year, including a drunken vision of Kaya Scodelario (Effie from Skins), so it has been a long time coming, but hopefully that means it’s a gooden.  I then dedicated my poem Passing Time, to a guy I’ve been acquainted with for a couple of weeks who said he’d never go to see poetry.  I then did Drama as I was reminded of it whilst doing research for my Children’s Literature module.  I finished on Tick the Box, which another performer told me they liked best.

So, I was happy.  On top of that, I won a chocolate prize for my attempt at the fancy dress! As the only effort was the hat, I’m pretty pleased… though am not sure I should be as the rest was just a normal outfit!  Oh well, chocolate, can’t complain!  I really enjoyed Christopher Ogden’s prose piece and think I prefer it to his poetry, which is unusual as it is more difficult to keep the audience’s attention with prose.  Angela Robinson was really enjoyable again, and I find her work very cinematic, in an American way, but in a positive way that makes you want to take a trip! Chris Gray was next and his set was really funny, and delivered with confidence.  Catherine Woodward is someone who impresses me more and more each time I see her, and is published so hopefully would be able to get her for a pure LitSoc event if we end up doing that. 

Robyn Comfort did a nice mix of poetry and song to acoustic guitar, including one about her boyfriend which was sweet; it reminded me of when I read at the Poetry Cafe and dedicated a poem to my boyfriend at the time, and how in that moment I made his heart feel more for me than he ever has since.  Amy Wragg didn’t turn up, which I was disappointed about as I was looking forward to hearing her read.  Laurie Eaves was as good as ever, and even worked a reference to one of Angela’s poems in his.  Josephine Lister was headliner, and I’m still working out what I think about her poetry, as she’s quite loud and so maybe she should have more variation or something, I can’t put my finger on it, that said, I loved her poem The Way You Look Tonight.  I also think I might fancy her just a bit.

I’m really wanting to break open my chocolate snowman, but I’ve already had a massive Homemade Quorn Cottage Pie that should really serve two, and a strip of Cadbury’s Dairy Milk.  I should also go to bed now as I still have essays to edit and expand upon (UNDER the word limit!)  I also need to draw and scan in illustrations for my creative project for Children’s Literature.  Then once that’s over, time to start on my Creative Entrepreneurship MA application and reading for my dissertation.

xxx

I also realised I didn’t do any Christmas-themed poems, so here’s one from last year:

Nativity

 

You were Father Christmas in the nativity.

I was a snow flake.

If we met in reception I wonder

what we would be now,

and whether we would have been friends

back then.

Would you have pulled my hair?

Would you have known my name?

In the playground playing games

would you have been my aim in kiss chase?

Or would you be kicking a football

while I was tangled up I skipping ropes

and standing on one leg in hopscotch?

Would you save me if I was stuck in the mud?

Find a plaster for my grazed knees?

Or be the cause for my bruises

for pushing me too hard?

You, eating Christmas dinner in the hall.

Would I be on pack lunch at this time?

‘Cause I always changed my mind.

Would you watch my cartwheels

or comment on my hairy legs?

Would we keep in contact?

Grow older as friends.

Or more.

Would we be shy?

Would we camp together at music festivals?

Would I fall in love with you,

and your family,

would they call me their baby?

Get pissed together?

Bite nails and smoke cigarettes?

And experience what went on behind bike sheds?

Because in reality I stopped riding bikes at secondary school.

Would we comfort eat?

Or have someone to share the cakes with?

Would we swap presents every year?

Would we write pain into our history books

or just play hangman at the back of the classroom?

Would I go away?

And you come visit me,

hug goodbye

but always say see you soon.

Would you ride off with reindeer to the moon?

And dust me off your shoulder.

Would you see life without me is colder?

Share a bed with a hot water bottle, one duvet

and two pillows.

Advertisements

About carminamasoliver

I'm an ex-UEA writer from South London. Founder of She Grrrowls. Feminist Arts Writer for The Norwich Radical. BAR poet. Published by Nasty Little Press.Currently living and working in Spain.
This entry was posted in Poetry Gigs and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s