"She lives the poetry she cannot write" – Wilde
Aha – it all makes sense now. I have a solar-powered brain! That explains why I haven’t written anything worth reading for the past six months, and why I am now cranking into action. For the Big Shiny Thing in the Sky is here! I made the most of it with a visit to the guidestoops (qv below) and spent two days unfurling in the sunshine with Fourpenny Circus colleagues. Doors on the boat started to close properly after months of rain-swelled misbehaviour. I even spent a balmy evening at Gawsworth Hall for a Sounds of the 70s night. I am feeling rather chipper, and a little pink about the shoulder. And the garden (above) is thriving.
In last week’s episode I bemoaned cancellations at Little Moreton and Ellesmere Port – both organised by third parties and cancelled at short notice. But lo, just as I was beginning to feel proper grumpy, in rode The Janes – a dynamic duo who sent me a copy of their Loop e-zine for Macclesfield. Thank you, Janes – I shall not lose faith again. Together we can make the world a better place for high-quality, local cultural performance. Mind you, we’ll need a better slogan than that.
Some people are ahead of us – witness a bonkers-but-brilliant set from Mark Gwynne Jones and the Psychicbread this week at the Buxton Festival Fringe. Jones is the charismatic preacher of spoken word, lilting and ranting to music from his band – including a drummer who looked like a librarian, but played so violently that his drums fell off the stand. Go and see them immediately; preferably somewhere near a beer tent, to get the full wild-eyed effect.
Poetry will reach new levels of brevity in the writing for my guidestoop (see previous issues). I’ve been researching sheepdog-training-speak: little northern phrases that roll off the Derbyshire tongue. Come bye! Look Back! Take Time! Stand! Walk on! Away to Me! Sounds like a nice way to spend an afternoon….