Category: Inspiration

Things I’ve seen or been to that have inspired me in some way… gigs, art exhibtions etc.

Sorry

Inspiration

On Monday I was to go to Hannah Jane Walker’s show This is just to say at The Book Hive in Norwich. I was meant to be going with a fellow student and poet who shall remain nameless because I am learning that mentioning such things should be left to the bitter world of Blair and Chuck in Gossip Girl.  Part of me wishes I could be as big a bitch as Blair, so I guess I love her character because it feels so good to indulge in such fantasy.  Then again, I strive to be nice, partly because I want to be liked, but equally because niceness is underrated, and if everyone was a bit nicer the world would be a better place.  Maybe we’d make less apologies, or maybe we’d make more.

So, having had no response from two people I thought were going to the show, I ended up finishing the bottle of wine I started, with the logic that I would somehow go out afterwards, that at least one of these people would turn up and I’d have an amazing night without spending any more money.  However, I was alone with a group of strangers.  Then again, that was one of the points of the show.

We gathered around the table.  More wine. Great!  After two later-comers turned into no-shows, Hannah started the show.  She glided between poems and speeches about apologies, and in between the audience around the table interacted and we all made our own apologies; apologies we wanted to make, ones we wanted to receive, and some made up.

I was honest with my apologies.  Though I may have many more to make, it was to someone I feel deeply for and am simultaneously frustrated by and grateful for their friendship.  I’d had an argument with them months ago, which he later said was “water under the bridge” when I brought it up, so what did surprise me was that my apology was in relation to that: “Sorry I reacted when you said fuck off, because I love you” – a statement that can be taken two different ways, and even I’m unsure of which way I meant it. 

The second apology was in connection to someone I am no longer friends with.  Although the person remains in Facebook news feeds, like the roots of dyed hair, we both know the truth.  I was surprised that of all the apologies I thought I was owed, this is the one that came up – something which another member of the group also expressed.  Though I feel like I have moved on, I guess there will always be that hurt, and the sense of wasted time, and it comes out in my dreams… and on nights like these.

The whole evening is something I have never experienced as a poetry performance format.  It was really interesting to go to – unique and special.  Hannah’s poetry is always a pleasure to hear, but was very much suited to this intimate environment, gathered round a table, wine-pouring between strangers, with scattered fairylights and paper apologies.

After the show, I texted madly and confused myself in my drunken haze.  I ended up at the Rose Tavern where the LOL comedy show was on with a couple of university friends.  One act was described as a poetry-comedian.  I made a noise… not sure what kind of noise, half laugh, half pretentious-hah-so-you-call-yourself-a-poet-noise.  This drew attention to me, despite me thinking I wasn’t that loud, I think I misjudge my own volume when drunk.  I also had another glass of wine. Good one.  Not.

I don’t remember the details of conversations after that, but I started walking back home with the two guys I was with.  I must have forgotten they no longer live two doors down from me as I walked with them too far, and so decided to invite myself back to their house.  I entertained more of my friends with my drunken ramblings.  I was very embarrassed the next day, but at least they had a laugh before they went to bed.

What’s worse is that I ended the night repeatedly calling a boy to come out of his house to continue the night further at my house.  It wasn’t quite getting through to me that it was nearly 1am and he was in bed about to go to sleep to at least get a good 5 hours.  Oh yes, and this was all on the day I had my first NORCAS meeting (a drugs and alcohol counselling service).  Yes, I know, I’m not an alcoholic, I don’t have any more of a problem than the majority of university students.  However, I do want to cut down and stop the extremes situations I get into when I’m past-drunk.  So, it’s a bit of an experiment.

On another note, my hair is growing out and I’m thinking of getting another dramatic haircut in the new year.  I want to think of a short hairstyle that will suit me – curly hair doesn’t do short hair that well!

Anyway, I’ve said too much already!

xxx

Word of Mouth & After Hours

Inspiration, Poetry Gigs

So, I didn’t make it to any more poetry events the week before returning to Norwich, for three reasons:

1. Monday: kept up by snoring at a friend’s house, went home at 5am, took two hours, had three hours sleep.

2. Tuesday: went round to friend’s house, mum didn’t want anyone staying round, was home by 2am.

3. Wednesday: goodbye drinks, ended up going clubbing with one mate, everyone got chucked off the bus, got home at 5am and was hungover all day.

Anyway, back in Norwich, I went off to the NAC to see Tim Clare headline at Word of Mouth.  Andy Spragg was up first, who I know from previous Soapbox events and the Poetry Choir.  I really liked his poems and would have liked to read as well as hear them, which I got to do later on!  Although confident, he was a bit shaky – which is what I’ve been doing recently at events and know how annoying it is, like… why is my leg shaking.  A bit like Will’s arms on The Inbetweeners (which I watched the next day on 4od, very funny!) 

The Anti-Poet I had performed alongside at Speech Motion, at the Horse & Groom pub in London.  They were even better than the last time!  I really want my own music stand and one of those microphones; it’s the perfect solution to my bad memory, and well, the microphone just looks and sounds cool.

So, the headline act, Tim Clare, I had seen at Latitude but couldn’t hear that well, and was chatting to a uni mate I bumped into and was pretty pissed off that I couldn’t get back to where I was sat as it had gotten so crowded.  Also, it seemed to be more comedy and music than poetry… so I didn’t know what to expect this time.  It ended up being… AMAZING!  Tim’s act wasn’t so much comedy but just him being himself and rambling on about his night drinking Cocktails, and reciting Tom Cruise’s “poem”.   He was really quite endearing; what a charmer.  I loved his poem about loving crazy women and the epic “9-minute poem”.

The After Hours Club was a scary ‘Swap Shop Special’ which involved putting our poems in a bag and picking three different ones.  I knew some people had put in awkward poems, so I was lucky enough to avoid any of that, PLUS I got my very own ‘Cinderella’ poem.  I didn’t record the event as I just wanted to enjoy it for what it was… wasn’t really about me haha.  It was weird seeing Tim Clare in the audience.   I hoped he thought I was good.  It’s cool when the bigger names come to the open mic bit.  Though I would probably judge them badly if they didn’t to be honest! 

There was a bit of drama with the LitSoc Vs. CWS.  It turned out to be an issue of improving communications and never using the term ‘open mic’ for LitSoc events to avoid confusion for the Student’s Union in terms of the distinctions between the societies.  Anyway, after some passionate and persuasive arguing from me (I did get an A in that at GCSE) it seemed to be all sorted, and we should be able to work together the way I had intended, rather than against each other.  And I avoided crying – yay!

 So, everything ended up being okay, and in a few hours shall be seeing a lot of the same faces for HEADcrash Cabaret at The Birdcage with some friends coming along.

xxx

I have been to hell and back. And let me tell you, it was wonderful.

Inspiration

Well, I’ve decided to just do an update on what I’ve been up to, along with a few recommendations.

The first is Thorpe Park.  I bought a bounce-back voucher and went for the second time this summer.  I travelled with a couple of my close friends, yet I was physically shaking when I greeted everyone else.  Not because of the rides, but because of the presence of a girl who I do not like, a girl who has wronged me in the past and, more importantly, ignored my offering of an olive branch a couple of years ago.  I got used to my life without having to worry about her, and now, she has returned to cause me more misery.  Now, with my wonderful friends, plus the excitement of all the rides, I managed to have a good time!  So, if a theme park can still be fun in the face of all this drama, then it must be pretty damn good!

Best Ride: between Saw and Stealth

Worst Ride: between Rumba Rapids and Colossus

Anyway, that evening I met up with my Gran who is moving to live in France with her boyfriend.   We had a meal at an Italian restaurant in Barbican, before seeing “Louise Bourgeois: The Spider, The Mistress and The Tangerine”.  After seeing the film, I wanted to watch it again and so I know I HAVE to get the DVD!  It was so inspirational and beautiful, and I think I’d love to have it to watch whenever I feel low.  Louise is such an amazing person, I love her work and this film made me want to find out more about her, as it is filled with mystery and is extremely interesting.  She is shown as a pillar of strength, striking and funny, with a mass of quotable comments.  It is easily the best film I’ve seen all year and, having recently died at age 98, it is a fitting tribute to her life as an artist… and although she doesn’t define herself as one… a feminist role model.

After seeing my family on Saturday for a last goodbye for my Gran with my family, and taking some things each that she wanted to give away to us, I have been relaxing the rest of the time, and trying to not get too emotional about going back to Norwich – I always get a bit weird with change.  My room is now exploding with books, and I have hung an abstract painting my dad did of me as a baby, which is possibly slightly less egocentric than having my own paintings on every wall.  I watched a film called ‘U Be Dead’ which was a drama based on a true story and was quite entertaining.

painting by my dad

I read in the garden most of the day.  I think it’s the first time all summer I’ve had a day doing that.  I’ve been thinking about sexuality recently and found a quote that intrigued me in a book I’m reading for university, “Granta: Music”.  It was in a piece called “Brandy” by Philip Hensher:

‘I sat in the kitchen of a sympathetic girl called Miriam and told her that I was a homosexual, and faked an anguish I didn’t really feel.  Several times, too, I hopefully said, late at night to a handsome boy, when we were alone, what everyone like me says and never really believes, that of course, everyone is basically bisexual, until one of them crossed the room and kissed me, and after that I never said anything so foolish ever again.’

It was strange because I had said recently to a friend that I believed sexuality was not a black and white subject matter.  I thought, and still do think, that it is not a case of homosexual, heterosexual and bisexual.  Rather, I do think that everyone is bisexual to some degree.  I see sexuality as a spectrum and everyone falls somewhere on the continuous line from A to B.  I don’t personally feel I could label myself bisexual, as I am unsure whether I would be willing to engage in the same level of relationship with the same-sex as I do with the opposite sex.  This kind of connected with something I read in a children’s book by Sherman Alexie about not just belonging to Spokane Indian tribe but there being many ways of defining yourself.  So, in that sense, sexuality is just one of many ways in which we define ourselves; it’s all the little things that make us who we are.  Although, saying that, I’m remembering in psychology we learnt that we are not just the “sum of our parts” so this train of thought could be carried on a lot further.  But, I won’t.  I think I’ve written enough for one day.

xxx

Penned in the Margins

Inspiration

So, last Thursday I was selling books at the Penned in the Margins event at Aubin & Wills as part of my internship.  The poetry readings were from Glynn Maxwell, Clare Pollard, Simon Barraclough and Joe Dunthorne.  I arrived later than I planned as there were messed up trains… and then I got lost by walking in the wrong direction – typical!  So I was a bit anxious and flustered when I arrived, but settled down a bit once I knew what I was doing and made myself at home with a bottle of beer.

There were a couple of girls serving the drinks, so I had to help them a bit whilst selling the books as I was next to the drinks.  They were friendly but so different from me, quite posh and ALL blonde, which was a bit funny as their friends and co-workers appeared at times and they were all very similar.  I got the feeling they like a certain type of person at Jack Wills/Aubin & Wills, as the websites note they “represent the directional nature of the brand” and need to “embody the… aspirational, lifestyle brand”.  One of the girls did literature as part of her course, and the other was a singer, so that was cool, sadly can’t remember their names though!  I guess I felt a bit out of place with those girls, as one complained of the possibility of a 36 month phone contract I thought about joking about my Nokia 3330 or whatever it is.

I took advantage of the free drinks, listened to some good poetry and sold a few books, of which Joe’s pamphlet was the most popular.  A couple of people I’d invited over Facebook came – Paul Riggs, the ‘Australian guy’ I met at Farrago, and Amy Acre – both bought books as well which was cool.  I felt really inspired and even had lines running through my head for a couple of poems, but have inevitably forgotten what they were.

We then went to the pub and I chatted to a few of the poets/literary people, but I can only remember half their names.  I should have gotten a lemonade instead of that last half pint.  But I only drink lemonade with alcohol in it.

That reminds me of a poem I wrote, so, here it is:

Half Pints

You asked me what I liked to drink

What’s that all about?

As if it’s the first time we are going out

As if you have to really think

As if you don’t already know me inside out.

Said you normally drink cans or JD and coke,

Out with the lads,

I thought it was a joke.

‘Cause you used to buy me drinks

Even when you were broke,

Guess it’s been a while since I saw you last;

Been a while since we spoke .

And you’ve always been forgetful

And I’ve never been that cool.

And I’ve never been regretful,

Always been a love fool.

But I’ve had enough of half pints.

Fill me up

To the brim

My glass

Totally full.

xxx

Don’t be such a BORE!

Inspiration

It’s a bit of a late update as I am really busy, but I wanted to make sure to mention this.  After grabbing some Nando’s after work one day, I met with my parents at the National Theatre to see After the Dance.  I was tired as it was but then saw a sign saying the production would be THREE hours long, including two intervals!  I hoped it was good!

The time flew by so fast that I would have to say it was one of the best shows I’ve seen in a long time.  It also seemed extra meaningful for me to see it at this time in my life, although I expect it would be relevent to many.  It was really interesting to read in the programme how the play is considered a ‘lost’ play, and thus isn’t that well-known.

It follows a group of friends who ‘talk of nothing but the old days and the old parties’, and seem to be slowly destroying themselves with their drinking habits.  I consider myself to having a drinking problem, purely for the reason that I sometimes don’t know when to stop and it causes me problems, so it’s something that I’m trying to find a better way of doing.  To drink, and still keep my health, and my friends!  I know I’m not the only one that behaves like an idiot when drunk, but that doesn’t mean it’s okay.

Anyway, there was a division with some of the characters who didn’t drink, and it escalated into questions of life, love and relationships.  The first half was mainly sugar-coated with humour, yet by the second part the audience was met with the raw emotions underneath the masks.  It was beautifully tragic.  The script was amazing and the actors brought it to life.

One of the threads that ran through the play was the idea of being a ‘bore’ if you didn’t drink.  This is probably one of the big reasons why I over-drink.  Sometimes I tell myself I’d rather be boring that too drunk but it doesn’t work.  I’ve been called boring a few times by people I know are ignorant of who I am.  Yet, I am affected by what people think.  On parents evening once at secondary school my history teacher told me and my parents that I needed to participate more in class, something which I’d been told my whole life, and yet they added that I would ‘never be the life and soul of the party’.  So, is it any wonder I like a drink or two?

I think labels like that are terrible, and the reasons why I didn’t participate more than others were not purely down to shyness.  As I noted to two school friends last night, maybe the shy people would say something if everyone else shut up once in a while.  I feel my shyness is a battle, but it is something I fight against because all my passions require a bit of confidence – spoken word performances, dancing, and organising many “events” for friends.  Yet, I also embrace my shyness, as it is a part of my nature, as people will often be able to tell during my poetry sets, or when talking to me for the first time.

Anyway, it is a subject I could go on for ages about, but the point I’m making here, is that I know I don’t need a drink to have fun (I had a sober night and stayed up til about 2am last night with my friends), but sometimes the idea of a being a ‘bore’ probably does influence my habits.  I find it hard to stop, so I just need to get the right balance and be more conscious of my choices – easier said that done when you start to get tipsy.  I think I just need to stop planning to get drunk, and worrying about being drunk “enough” and just relax and enjoy myself, and stop being such a fucking stereotype.

Overall, the play was emotionally engaging and intellectually stimulating, and I’d defos recommend it!

xxx

Surreal House & Latitude Festival

Inspiration

Last Thursday I went to meet up with my Gran at Barbican.  We went to Indulgence Bar & Grill for Pimms and a two course lunch, which was really nice.  We went to the Surreal House exhibition at the Barbican Centre afterward.  It was really interesting, although I had seen some of the pieces previously.  I liked the psychological side of it, and the links with poetry and literature. 

One section also reminded me of an experience I had at my Gran’s cottage in Sussex once.  I was unsure if it was a dream at the time, as it was so strange, I could only describe it as a nightmare.  I was in the same position in bed, but I felt a cold presence , and a pressure as though someone was trying to suffocate me, and I wanted to call for help but I could speak or move I recently found out his is quite a common thing, called Sleep Paralysis.  I’m glad I’ve only experienced it once, it was really scary!

Anyway, on Friday at 4:45am I awoke to begin my journey to Latitude Festival!  I was going alone, and I knew a few people going but would only see them in the evening as I planned to spend most of the day in the poetry tent.   The text I had with te instructions I realised had given me over an hour to travel from Waterloo to Liverpool Street!  So, I took a bit of extra time, but still had to wait for ages.  On the train to Halesworth, Niall O’Sullivan had booked his seat next to me and I was only half sure it was him, as I’ve only seen him in person a couple of times at the Poetry Cafe.  Anyway, I realised it was him for sure when he came on stage haha!  So, I’d wasted time talking about who was sitting where, when I could have been talking about… I don’t know, poetry I guess, or how to get backstage haha.

So, as I enjoyed everyone’s acts, I’ll try to keep it concise.  I got to the poetry tent at around midday; I sadly missed Molly Naylor’s set, and arrived in the middle of Sabrina Mahfouz’s set, who I’d seen at the Feminist Midsummer party (my MySpace blog for details).  Luke Wright was the MC for this section,and I’ve seen in Norwich before (and even lay down near me at one point) and also at Southbank for E4’s Udderbelly.  Next was Rosy Carrick, who I can’t actually remember as it was so long ago but I’m sure she was amazing haha. I remember Martin Figura, and as he brought the poems to read from it made me think I could be up there next year, if only I knew how to go about it… Anyway, next was Niall O’Sullivan and his set was really good, though all the while I was kicking myself for the train seat business.  I left for a bit to get a drink then saw a bit of “Larkin about”, followed by Paul Lyalls who I just had to remind myself of, but remember him also being very good now I’ve reminded myself of what he looks like!  I’ve been writing my diary and other such stuff so I’m afraid I’m not going to offer much more varied descriptions… but if you’re reading I’ve linked all of the poets so you should just check them out for yourselves!

Kriss Foster was next, and although he was entertaining I’m not sure I’d describe him as poetry, more of a cabaret act, or an act for a small music stage.  Then it was Tongue Fu which made me want to try out the event, which basically consists of a jazz band playing music while you try to read your poetry over the top of it.  I’m very much interested in the ways poetry and music overlap, so it’s something I’d like to try out, though I can’t help thinking it would go horribly wrong the first time.   Anyway, after that was Joel Stickly who started to MC the next section.  Some of his set was good but I wrote down to remind myself that I didn’t like a poem he did about a woman with a double chin, I think it’s a cheap shot at an attempt to be amusing… I have a thing about judging people’s physical appearances.  Maybe because I’m so insecure myself that I wouldn’t want to pass judgement on someone else unless it was about their personality and the fakeness of their hair on hair adverts *cough* Cherly Cole/Tweedy *cough*.  Next was Tim Cockburn, who is often published in Stop Sharpening Your Knives, and I just checked and I submitted but was rejected – boooo!

Hannah Walker was up next and I remember seeing her a few times in Norwich, and she is so much better than the first time I saw her, as I wasn’t blown away then, but now I would probably say she was one of my favourite acts of the day.  Martin Newell I thought was really cool and really enjoyed his set.  Next was Clare Pollard and again I really enjoyed her, I felt like I’d seen her before but I’m not sure where.  Rhian Edwards was okay, I think perhaps she is more of a “page poet” but now that I think about it, it was probably just because I needed the toilet and wanted to get some food, but I didn’t leave when she was on so it must have been good!

I went to the comedy tent with my chicken and chips and saw David O’Doherty.  I recognised some of his set, but I think he’s really funny so I stayed to the end and got to hear some new material too.  I sung along to Laura Marling as I walked past the Obelisk Arena (note how they don’t say “main stage”) as she was on a bit late and I wanted to get back to Ross Sutherland.  I’d seen her at Hop Farm and she was amazing, and would have loved to watch her again, but oh well.  Ross did this thing where you write a line of poetry and members of audience did the same and then he’d read out the results.  I was right at the front, directly before him, so I went to grab the clipboard.  The first line he’s written was ‘Bob Geldof didn’t cry when’ and I wrote ‘his daughter fell into the river’ as it was the first thing that came to me.  As I passed it along, I realised it’s not only appropriate (Latitude has a river) but one of his daughters is Peaches, who has annoyed me since she got a column for Ellegirl magazine and can’t even write well.  So that was a close as I’d got to introducing myself.

I can’t remember what I did next, probably went for another drink – damn those pesky plastic eco-refillable-cups!  I was back for Byron Vincent who was really good and wearing what appears to be his signature stage outfit.  Anna Freeman was I think built up a bit too much, but still was entertaining enough.  Kate Tempest was amazing as always, I would have gone round to buy her book & CD but they said it was £20 and so I think it’ll have to be one for the Christmas list! I’ve decided all I want is poetry books.  Although, I will probably ask for some clothes too as I love new clothes and never really buy new stuff other than as pressies from my parents.

Next up was El Crisis who was good, but I preferred his act when he was part of the Spoken Word Allstars later.   Joshua Idehen was next, who I knew from seeing at Farrago events, and he took over as MC.  Hollie McNish was next who I also know from Farrago events and have mentioned previously in my blog.  Then it was Chris Hicks who I very much enjoyed, and I think may have seen in Norwich before.  Inua Ellams I’ve also seen at Farrago (good thing I’m back doing a feature there this Thursday!), and he was really good, seemed like a really sweet guy as well.  He started to go over time though so had to leave the stage, at which point I went to check my tent hadn’t blown away and got a jumper for later.  Amazingly, with all the wind my tent was still held by five pegs in the sand-like soil.  I must have been a bit tipsy by then as I had jotted down a poem in my notepad, I say poem, it was more like a list, and a list I gave up with at that.  Here it is:

The Portrait of a Lady

over a third the way through

with the España bookmark,

a much loved jumper given by a friend

to be lost this Sunday,

the tent,

the sleeping bag,

the toilet roll from the last festival.

I walked past Florence & The Machine, who could be heard from my camp anyway.  I bought some nachos and another pint, as I was feeling a bit peckish again.  I watched the Spoken Word Allstars which was really cool, a kind of blend of poetry and music.  Next was Brigitte Aphrodite who I would have seen before at Southbank at the launch of Laura Dockrill’s book but I think me and my mate Ricky were a bit late as he’s always late and therefore I blame him!  She was really entertaining and I loved her glittery outfit, and she seemed like a nice girl.

 I went to get another drink and it was getting quite difficult to get out.  However, by the time I got back, Tim Clare was on and I couldn’t get back to where I was sat as it was so crowded.  It pissed me off to be honest, and I thought where were you before eh?  Everyone suddenly wanting to be at the poetry tent.  I’d heard good things of Tim and although it was good, it was a bit disappointing that over half his set was basically comedy.  It’s nice to have a laugh between poems, but sometimes people think it’s only entertaining when it’s funny which I disagree with, and seeing as Kate Tempest probably had the biggest applause out there, I think we can see that I’m right haha, as she can make me laugh and cry, you know, that’s skill.  Anyway, then it was Eddie Argos from Art Brut.  I saw him in his band years ago in Brixton Windmill and I thought they were overrated.  Although I saw Luke Wright loving it at the front, I have to say I didn’t really see his set as extremely poetic.  At this time I’d bumped into someone from uni so I wasn’t paying enough attention to properly judge.

I went to get another drink… I thought I should get a bit tipsy since I had no booze of my own and was planning to meet up with people after.  Sadly, I had no reception just at the time I needed it, and there was nowhere to use a phone that would work, a nice girl lent me hers but then there was no answer.  I walked around, wanting to dance with everyone but not wanting to look weird and dance on my own.  I didn’t want to waste the night so wandered into a tent where people were playing pass the parcel to a jazz band, and it was all quite surreal, then people were muttering something about Phil Jupitas in the Cabaret tent, so I went along but it was just him DJing.  I felt a bit down and disappointed as I made my way back to my tent.  I tried reading Henry James but the batteries in my torch were going and I was too drunk and tired to be bothered, so I tried to get to sleep.  I was woken at like 5am by kids being loud as they left with their family.  It was really hot by then, so I drifted in and  out (but mostly out) of sleep until 9ish.

I packed up and waited around an hour for the shuttle bus.  The bus to the station then didn’t leave until 11:05am.  I saw Marie from my internship was sat in front of it which was a weird coincidence, I don’t think I was aware of her going, or at least I couldn’t remember she was.  I managed to get on the trains I needed earlier despite my ticket being for specific trains.  I was dying for water as there wasn’t any at the campsite and couldn’t go back into the arena (even though the camp was meant to provide water).  I waited until I got to Liverpool street at about 2pm and bought some Quavers and a bottle of Ribena, which ever since Reading with Ribena ice lollies has started to be a good hangover cure.  My mum luckily picked me up from Clapham Junction, but it was a bit annoying as I was earlier than expected and had to wait around 20mins for her to turn up.  Once she arrived I was alright and went home and just relaxed.  We got a Thai takeaway, but it was a bit average.  Then watched The Women, which was totally the type of film I wanted to watch, but no way would I recommend it haha!

Anyway, time for Big Brother like now, so I better go!

xxx 

p.s. After Big Brother I found out two rapes happened at Latitude.  One of them was a group rape which is horrific to think about, that a group of men stood round to watch.  It makes me fucking sick.  Not to mention that I was alone at the festival, and the thought that it could have been me, I’m so lucky, those poor girls, to have their lives destroyed like that from one stupid prick!

Underground Challenge: Inspire a Stranger

Inspiration

For the Underground Challenge: Inspire a Stranger I decided to do poems in envelopes, because I was too shy to do much more – when I tried to hand out flyers for the LitSoc Spring Ball, I chickened out and left them in Tesco near the Clubcards.  Plus, I sometimes get grumpy on public transport, and this day was frustrating as I missed my train, and so I guess I did something in the way that I would want it.  There’s nothing worse when you’re in a bad mood than an elasticated- stretched-out-smile or a ‘cheer-up’ all smug spitting from lips.

Anyway, I got back from seeing The Ruskins and all that jazz (well, actually, more folk) at Hop Farm festival on Sunday – the day before the Inspire a Stranger Day.  The weekend was pretty messy, and I’d had basically no sleep, so I chopped out the poems I’d printed out, whilst wondering why I didn’t just hand write them, and used sellotape to stick them onto paper, signed them and threw in some Ruskins stickers as an extra unrelated bonus to the poems, and stuffed them into envelopes.

 I’m currently listening to Hollie McNish’s ‘Push Kick’, and just realised she has a bit of a Northern twang.  Anyway, it’s a really interesting album, at the moment I can’t relate to the subject matter but I can only hope one day I get to experience the emotions she presented so wonderfully and honestly in such a range of poems.

Anyway, I better go and have a bath, because I’m not ashamed to say I need to do it in time to watch Big Brother!

xxx