Oh for a rest, up at six, editing to poems I wrote last night for this afternoon, not been able to get my ideas together, as I'm full of school stuff and kids poetry, but I heave three poems out, throw one away, and edit like a demon, this morning. I’m off to Rotherham for the second of my readings and workshops for their arts festival, a small elite turn up and I read for half an hour or so, I read the new poems just try try them on them, they’re for a short reading this afternoon at Ilkley. I do a workshop on the elements of rhyme, basically trying to dissuade people from end rhyming as it is so scary sometimes how shallow poems can be as long as the rhymes work, so I teach them first rhyme, which is a revelation to most of the group, and we also create some landscape pieces.
Straight off to Ilkley, and I arrive quite quickly, only an hour and a bit, as I cut through Leeds, have a sandwich, and read to open the new exhibition, ‘Not Set in Stone,’ at the Manor House the poems are well received and I include two other poems which fit the theme which I already have. I used the ancient idea of the swastika, from before it corruption, and looked at ideas realating to its origin and meanings in different belief systems. It is a shame we can’t use it anymore, if we did the far right would hi-jack it again with their vile ways. I’ve got to hang around for the lecture this evening, and there is a meal before hand for the artists involved in the exhibition. I’m about to go off and find a café when I’m rescued by Craig and Claire, who invite me to a wee gathering for Champagne and cake, well I shouldn’t as I’m doing so well with my weight-watchers, but one needs to celebrate days like these, so cake and champers it is, and Craig is also master of getting a cup of tea into your hand when you most need it, what a star.
The meal at La Sila is great, some great conversation. I implore everyone to read Joyce, yes I’m being a Ulysses bore, but all in good fun, and the lecture on Rock Art from around the world is fascinating. Home to bed, to wake up, not move too far, have a Sunday pub lunch, and write a piece for The Rialto..there is nothing else to say about Sunday.
Music – Casals playing Bach Cello Suites