I’m starting to put together my first full poetry collection. I’m going to be writing some new material within the next couple of weeks to go with what I’ve already got. I want as many people as possible to read it and give me feedback. So please comment here with your email address or any means of contact, if you’re up for helping me out. You’ll be getting a free sample of my first draft, if that’s enough to tempt you?

In other news, I’ve now confirmed two amazing acts for my first independent event and am ordering flyers now. I’m starting to produce lots of exciting things for it, so watch this space! Here are the details…

Also, you can get 13% off my self-published books until this Friday 15th! Go here to check my page out.


Don’t Cart-wheel on Broken Glass

Last Thursday night LitSoc put on an event with CWS… though actually I think only one of our collaborators was there.  Anyway, this is possibly the last event we’re going to put on, but I’m hoping to put on another one.  I really want to pay the performers but I don’t think we have enough money… maybe on the next!

Anyway, we had to host as a committee (apart from Helen because she doesn’t like public speaking) because our host pulled out last-minute… very unprofessional haha.  We started off with a CWS open mic but the only member that came had to go away for something and so there wasn’t really any of their input but whatever.  I was the “sacrificial poet” first in the open mic and we had a decent number of people get up to read.

The night consisted of Catherine Woodward, followed by Grenouilles, and I was meant to go on then but I cut my set out so the night would run more smoothly (hence why I did the open mic instead).  Then Greta Healy and Hannah Walker gave us some poetry, and Robyn Comfort began with poetry and moved onto music.

Ending the night was Russell J Turner, Ashley Johnston, and Tim Clare.  I was really happy with how the evening went down, but I think I’m getting a bit too comfortable in my university bubble because I had rather too much wine to drink.  I stupidly left mid-way through Tim Clare’s set because a couple of friends were going out and apparently it was a “now or never” situation.  I feel really stupid and guilty for leaving and really regret it.  It’s something I’d be totally against when sober and if Captain of the Rant saw me that night, he’d be saying “now who’s rude? now who’s the dickhead?! hmmm?!”

I guess I got what I deserved.  I ended up at “Nowhere” and somehow was dancing on my own, wondering where one of the people I came with had gone but figuring I may as well just enjoy myself until we were reunited.  I had an urge at the beginning of the night to do a cart-wheel but we were busy setting up so I didn’t.  You better believe repressed urges will come out.  I decided to use an empty space to do a cart-wheel.  Now, this is something I would do sober as well, and have memories of doing it at kid’s birthday parties in my childhood, so I don’t know if I can entirely blame the alcohol for… maybe I can blame the club, or the dark lighting.

Anyway, I did the cart-wheel and I did it on a load of broken glass.  My hand got cut first and so I fell onto the floor and hurt my knee.  I was really embarrassed and rushed to the bar where I told them my hand really hurt and that I “thought” it was bleeding.  I looked down and there was blood going everywhere (including my lovely dress… it’s okay guys, it came out in the wash, thank god! It’s vintage you see).  I was taken to the back room and they got the first aid kit out and bandaged me up, but the guy said that if I cared what my knee looked like I needed to go to A&E.  I remember being quite casual about it because I didn’t think that I needed more than what he’d done, and I didn’t really want to go but him saying that obviously freaked me out…  I didn’t really want a deformed knee.

So… memory blank… somehow I got there.  Taxi I guess.  I waited for 3 hours and had nothing to do.  I had left my poetry and my iPod at the LitSoc event.  I wasted loads of texts and even tried calling my dad, and a friend I’d planned to call at the weekend.  It was past 2am so I didn’t get through.  I bought some crisps and a cookie from a machine.  I felt so depressed and lonely and just sat there for hours until I got so frustrated with everyone being seen apart from me that I started crying.  Not noticeably, just silently to myself.  I just wanted my parents there but they are in London and I am in Norwich.

Eventually I was seen and it was revealed it was a complete waste of time.  I didn’t even need stitches.  They just washed my hand (which had been previously glued) and then put these strips on my knee (which my dad said were butterfly stitches, but still… not proper stitches).  I got an expensive taxi home for £8 and when I arrived at mine at like 5am, the guy wouldn’t stop talking about how Shakespeare doesn’t exist.  I mean, bless him, but at 5am I just wanted to go to sleep before attempting at my busy day whilst being all tired and hungover.

It’s my housemate, Kristy’s birthday today so we’ve just made her fairy cakes and put them on this amazing cake stand we got her from Notty Green.  I’ve been listening to Funeral for a Friend’s new album Welcome Home Armageddon and it’s great!  More like the old stuff, wooo!  It’s been sunny and I’ve been wearing pink jeans and been in a good mood considering my preoccupation with a guy that doesn’t feel the same as me and general loneliness that creeps over me sometimes.  And random waves of panic about my life in general.  Anyway, before I start getting too personal and bitching about other stuff that’s annoying me, I’ll end.



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!


HEADcrash Cabaret

Last Wednesday was my first feature since being back in Norwich; HEADcrash Cabaret at The Birdcage.  After getting a glass of wine, some postcards and a ‘cocksucker’ badge from actor, poet and host, Russell J Turner, we found somewhere to sit – on the floor as it was rammed.

I suddenly remembered I forgot to spell check my last post.  There must be lots of errors.

Anyway, Chris Ogden, former president of the Creative Writing Society, was first up.  I knew what to expect as LitSoc showcased him at an event we held at the Hive at UEA.  I really liked his menstruation poem, and it reminded me of how I always forgot I was due on my period a number of times staying round a certain friend’s house, and what it means that he didn’t care and it didn’t feel awkward, which is basically what the poem was about – comfort.

Next was a girl called Greta, not sure of her surname, but I really liked her… that’s all I remember.  Robyn Comfort was next and I especially enjoyed her set, though I’ve seen her a few times, this time it was because she SANG! Well jealous, but of course, very happy for her as she was quite nervous about doing it! 

Then there was Andy Bennett, who a lot of people seemed to know, but I didn’t.  He was really good, and did something similar to Tim Clare in relation to Tom Cruise’s ‘Last Barman Poet’ performance in the film ‘Cocktail’.  It seems to have turned into some cult interest and I don’t know why but I really liked it.  I have been trying to write my version for this event that I won’t be able to make anyway, sadly.

After a break, I was next.  I really enjoyed performing and felt it went really well.  I think because I did so many new poems, although I was worried about the newness of them, it made it more enjoyable because there was a mix of poems I knew pretty much by heart, and those that just felt really fresh or something.  My housemate Kristy said how I had improved so much from last term, which was amazing to hear because it means all the open mic and feature gigs I’ve had over summer have been worth it!

Hannah Walker, who I mentioned in my set, was the last poet.  I’ve written about her before and really liked her set, naturally.  I was hoping to speak to her, but she disappeared or I was busy talking to other people or something like that.  Pay No Mind were the band at the end, I liked the songs but it felt like the singer was singing from the wrong part or something, so she was potentially good, but something was wrong that I couldn’t put my finger on and it kind of annoyed me.

I’ve also now got my heart set on an MA, so plan to take a year out to earn money so I can live back in Norwich.  Ideally I’d do it this coming year, but I won’t be able to afford it.  This probably means I won’t be able to afford to go inter-railing either but I can always do that after my MA… or any time in my life.  I don’t want a job that restricts me to not being able to do that.  I see myself doing lots of different jobs rather than one big one.  I read an article about work-life balance recently in the Sunday Times Style magazine that makes me think a merge rather than a separation is how people are more inclined to working these days.  I want to enjoy my work, and it be part of my life, not waiting for the work day to end so I can start my life each weekend or whatever.

Anyway, to save myself from rambling, I’m going to get reading and try to find someone who will come to see The Neutrinos with me and my housemate Kirstie, only asking for £2 compared to £8.50 on the door!