Writing In The 19th Century

Our gig of contemporary songs at the Coachmakers was well-received. BUT they wouldn’t let us go without Adam getting his low whistle out (now, now) and us playing ‘Women of Ireland’ and the ‘Tarbolton‘ reel. It’ll be a mix of traditional and contemporary from now on. Makes sense cuz that’s where we’re at, really – oh ‘cept Adam has a penchant and great ability for bluegrass. Seems odd to me. Like going about in fancy dress. He says it’s ‘tuning into the zone’.

Well, swash me buckle!

I am invited to a little village school to read some poetry to the children and to look at the work they have been doing for the National Year of Reading. They are having an Arts Week with a pirate theme so I thought, ‘Methinks perchance I shall write a small poem for them.’ I have never written for kids before. Even when I was going to school with kids I didn’t write for them. None of the kids I went to school with would have understood what I was on about. I set about writing and an odd thing happened: the writing kept coming out in a strangely archaic form with highly ‘poetic’ inversions couched in stilted, self-consciously ‘correct’ diction. I can only think that I was projecting my own childhood reading experience (Tennyson, Wordsworth and similar other caped prosodists) onto my own writing. It took me ages to shake it off – if I ever did. I’ll post the pirate poem after the school visit and you can judge for yourself. T’was weird most utterly, dear reader my dear, by my beard, forsooth, most weird.

Nowt but the real thing

A few people have asked if Lynda cast the ceramic likeness of my boat race in the mask photo. Absolutely not. Everything she does is created by her own magic hands from a big blob of raw clay. Amazing to watch.

See you later.


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