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The evening of 25th. June was a hot Friday for poets, the bar lounge of the Barlow Theatre, reinforced by the addition of extra seating, nicely full, the emergency doors open to an elusive breeze, and voices hang-gliding on the thermals as coffee mulled, beer was pulled, in the background. In this little theatre, converted sixty years ago from a non-conformist church, the deep pulpit voice of David Hilary contrasted well with a chorus of blue-eyed, but he left me poems from Rachel Marsh, the swirling Scottish accent of Morelle Smith and the irrepressible bantering voice of London's Ted Smith-Orr. It was a night of a score of poets with a too-early for bedtime story from Sue Hulse. People were waiting outside in the 10 am. sunshine of industrial Langley village, sitting quite neatly in the shadow of the phosphorus works, were it is said the acid for Coca-Cola is produced, when I arrived to usher them inside to set up their bookstalls in the theatre studio, to await the Saturday opening of events. Haiku posters soon adorned the bar walls, greeting would be discoverers of the genre, eager to hear the basics of that poetic style from the British Haiku Society's Pam Hewitt, who was to enthuse later of their efforts at writing a haiku in the bare five minutes remaining after her talk. At the same time the publishers were finding their Studio room too hot and were busy moving their stalls into the entrance hall; and some onto rugs laid outside on the pavement. In the Auditorium, I was introducing Birmingham poets Ray Avery, Ashley Northam, and Matt Nunn, as well as Prof. Kopan Mahadeva, John Hirst, and Dr. Paul McDonald, prefacing each introduction with a snippet about the recent Poet Laureate possibles. Although most of these deservedly drew groans from the audience, I thought my observation that Andrew Motion was to hold the post for ten years only, instead of life, showing he was not one of those perpetual motions quite witty, but then I would wouldn't I? Kopan took over the introductions from me as I announced the start of book launches by Peter Tomlinson and Ron Tomkins in the lounge area , and met newly arriving delegates, told people where to get food, the pub, the cake shop, the other two pubs, the fish and chip shop. Soon a whiff of the sea, a waft of vinegar and hot chips, was drifting in through the open theatre doors, driving the hungry insane, driving them to the fish and chip shop in their hordes. I must one day ask the proprietor if he enjoyed this day of ours! Once so very, very shy, I was told by a long-established editor, and now his work is everywhere, and he's invited to so many readings, Sam Smith shared the stage with Liverpool's Anthony Cooney, while at the same time, in another room, Mike Hoy vent forth the virtues and depressions of urban life and encouraged his audience to write about them. Maureen Weldon was launching her new book, Divided, as Steve Sneyd plucked perhaps forty people away from lunch to educate them on Science Fiction Poetry, and to guide them through a new anthology of the genre, with J.F. Haines providing poetic illustration. Another poetry reading programme began in the Bar, and on the stage New Hope International's Gerald England expounded on Poetry and the Internet, drawing a questions and answers session from his audience. I launched Spouting Forth Ink's first dual author publication, a Stevens/Wayne Dean-Richards volume, with my cohort; he reading his short stories and me giving my poems an airing. A deputation from the Anglo-Welsh Poetry Society met me as I emerged from my triumph; "it's so hot, such a warm day, can we move our show from the stage to the bar please? Everyone seems to be in there" And so they did as I transferred open mike hopefuls from their beerside oasis to the drier climate of the stage where they regaled a less-thirsty audience with their latest poetic renderings. The evening began with poems from Tilla Brading, Steve Sneyd. Gerald England, and Maureen Weldon. before the first group of contestants in the Balloon Game competition appeared. For the occasion, Maureen Weldon was e.e cummings, Pam Hewitt - Wendy Cope, and Sue Hulse - John Cooper-Clarke. Four men filled the second heat. Derrick Wolffe, the present occupier of Nether Stowey's Coleridge Cottage, was Coleridge, Sam Smith was Frances Corfield, Ted Smith-Orr was Matt Dillon, and Martin Holroyd appeared as Dylan Thomas. It was quite exciting. Druggy Coleridge just pushing punk Cooper-Clarke out in the final. Andy Robson, Adrian Green and Simon Pitt helped see out the evening with lively readings from their own work Gone the sunshine, Sunday showered itself upon us, and tired from the previous day, we sat around talking, stood up to read occasionally, discussed important issues and not so important issues, admired each other a little, said what a good time we’d had, and departed... hopefully to meet again ..soon? |