Passing the time

Out walking on the White Caterthun this week.

So, no big trip for us this summer... instead some visitors (a few already been and gone), a singin', actin', dancin' summer school (for the youngest member, last week, lots of fun) and really... just some being at home and taking it easy. Well, that's the plan anyway.

In amongst this, of course, there is reading and listening and absorbing this and that. Here a few things I've been in contact with so far:

I finally managed to read Barbara Kingsolver's "The Lacuna" (2009) that I bought ages ago. It is a fabulous read... and a must for all you Frida Kahlo fans (one review here). Art, history, censorship... it's all here.

It is the summer of sport here of course (what with the Jubilympics and all) and, amongst other things, the BBC are running a fascinating series of radio programmes telling various Olympic stories alongside songs (by Boo Hewerdine, Jez Lowe, Julie Matthews, Martin Simpson, Bob Fox and many others). The series is called "The Ballads of the Games". This week's episode was particularly emotional (it covers the 1936 Olympics in Berlin).

Still with sport there was of course some tennis on here in the UK not so long back. I don't watch that much of it (it was more my Mum's thing) but it's hard to ignore it all. Andy Murray, sadly, didn't quite make the top spot this year but another player (much less well-known) did OK. This is a lovely interview with British-English player Jonny Marray after his victory in the men's doubles (one of those everyone-said-I-should-give-up-and-now-look-what-I've-done pieces). Hurray for the loser-winners!

And finally, I haven't seen the film about young Leeds poets "We are Poets" yet but I did catch this poem from it. A stunning piece of work and film (poem by Joseph Buckley).

So art and sport, sport and art... spart anyone? As for me... I'll just be out with the dog... no medals, no races... just a bit of moving about... then a lot of sitting around pondering...

x

A ramble... for old time's sake

Dog days? Dog's life? Sleeping dog (last December).

Remember on my old blog I used to ramble on for ages about all sorts..? Lately I've tried to be more succinct and to-the-point but this week I'm more in a rambling mood it seems. Maybe that's because it is nearly-end-of-term here... plus it's small-one-visiting-high-school week (they do a kind of taster week the term before they start - good idea I think)... plus it's also lots-of-rehearsals-for-musical-show week (for same small one) so really it's just a week of moving her around, waiting for her, making sure she eats in between activities... and there's no time for proper concentration on anything for me...

So what can I tell you? What is worth passing on? Well... I'd say this radio programme/interview with Doreen Lawrence (broadcast last week on BBC) is well worth a listen. Most British readers will know her name - her son Stephen was murdered in London in 1993 by white racist thugs. On the programme Doreen Lawrence chooses some of her favourite records and one is the song Beverley Knight wrote for her son called "Fallen Soldier". I've always been a bit of a BK fan (read an old interview with her, by someone else, here) - she's an amazing singer and the track in question is over here.

 Also I've been watching (in amongst the football matches... there's a tournament on in Europe you know...) a show about class and taste on C4 presented by artist Grayson Perry (episode 1 on "working class" taste is here, episode 2 on "middle class" taste is here and the last episode is on this week). You could pick the show to pieces of course (class is so complicated these days for a start... plus it's all in England so far...) but at the same time it is (a) pretty interesting, (b) trying its best to be honest and open about matters of difference and (c) freaking hilarious in places. I'm a person who doesn't lose much sleep about the way I look, what I wear or what I have lying about the house (mostly it's the dog - see above) but I am aware that not everyone feels that way (I have ex-art school friends... lots of them... luckily some of them even give me their cast-offs and thoughtful/tasteful presents to keep me on track...). And then there's the class issue... while we were away last year Canadians, in particular, seemed surprised by how much British folk still refer to class (even jokily) as it is something they don't see as an issue (although we still see it in their society, of course, just under other names...). Well, maybe this show would help them see our divisions... though I doubt it... it would probably just confuse them more! As my Dad was a doctor my Mum always told me (with relish!) that I would always be middle class, whatever I did or didn't do. Except these days more or less everyone calls themselves some kind of middle class so it means almost nothing (and yet almost everything at the same time!). Can't wait for this week's upper class show...

Also catch if you can - this radio programme about Maurice Sendak who died recently (on the player for a couple more days). There's a lot of lovely detail about how the Wild Things ended up as they did...

What else..? Oh yes, we went to the cinema yesterday... and we learned that border terriers (example above) are taking over the silver screen (if not the world). Mark and a friend saw "Prometheus" (I'm not linking to that - it hardly needs my help!) and what did they see at some point on the screen..? Yes, a border terrier. Meanwhile the daughter and I saw the new Brit-flick "Fast Girls" (lured largely by "Being Human" star Lenora Crichlow... who is good in this nearly Olympian tale of relay racing... even if several scenes are a little stolen by Lashana Lynch as one of the other runners... full cast see here). But what else did we see... several times... on screen... if not a border terrier! In "Fast Girls" it belongs to the main character's trainer/coach and is called Linford (can't find a photo of it online - sorry, dog fans). I know some of you readers share your homes and lives with border terriers too so I thought you might like to know of their current omnipresence. I'm not sure what this says about taste (or indeed class) but I have been jokily calling our example the "Ford Escort" of dogs recently (though that's really out-of-date no doubt... I am so disinterested in car fashion I cannot begin to tell you!). Probably by now she's the Nissan Qashqai of dogs or something. Oh, I really have no idea.

Bet you're glad I've stopped rambling now, aren't you?

Pieces of a man, poem

So, at risk of sounding like a broken record... here is another post about, or relating to, Gil Scott Heron. It is nearly a year since he died (May 27th last year). 

Recently there was an event in England all about this great writer/singer/musician (review here) and fans were asked to pass comment about their memories of GSH, their feelings about his music (asked by Lemn Sissay here). I did pass a memory over and found myself remembering the time, back in about 1990, when I used to listen to a lot of Gil Scott Heron (and so therefore his collaborator Brian Jackson too - lovely article by Brian about Gil here by the way). I had a dodgy job in advertising at that time and an all-consuming nightclub and music habit so I spent quite a lot of time in my car (these days I drive very little). I had a couple of GSH cassettes back then (yes, cassettes!) that I listened to again and again. In the end, thinking of folk club tonight and something to read aloud, I wrote this poem today. I didn't plan to write it when I woke up this morning... but here it is anyway. So if anyone else wants to write a poem this week about a favourite musician or songwriter or singer... maybe they'd like to do that in a Poetry Bus (online) stylee. Put the link in the comments and I'll post it here (as we used to... in the old days... see bottom of post). It might be more Poetry Moped than Poetry Bus but you get the idea...

Audio of this poem here.

In a car with the stereo on

So it was just me,
me and Gil,
cruising around the city
in a company car
that I didn't really deserve,
that I couldn't really drive.

We were singing as we went.
Really loud sometimes.
So many songs.

We were singing "Angel Dust”,
not the most family-friendly
singalong chorus perhaps
but I liked it.
And “The Bottle”.
And “Home is where the Hatred is”.
And “Three Miles Down”.
Never mind the feel-good numbers – 

because there are some –
“Lady Day and John Coltrane”,
“I think I'll call it Morning”.

Other times we were just speaking,
chatting almost,
and I was saying “brother” along with him
like I almost knew what it meant.
We covered “Whitey on the Moon”,
“No Knock” and obviously
the whole “revolution will not be televised” thing.
He called it a poem.
That goes without saying.

These were lonely drives
to nowhere in particular –
drives to pick up x
and put down z.
But as I turned the corners
and made the moves
at least a piece of Gil was there,
there with me when he sang
“Get out of the Ghetto Blues”
and “Pieces of a Man”.


RF 2012


Other people's poems

First onto the moped it's Totalfeckineejit (our old Bus driver). Now doesn't that feel good?

Bug goes back to younger days.

Mouths of babes

Photo taken back in April on our way back from Titus' in Dumfries & Galloway.

Not much to blog just now... reading (finished Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie's "Half of a Yellow Sun" - it was brilliant), writing (a long, very weird poem that no-one will ever want to read most likely - not so brilliant...), rejigging my old online poems (here) and videos (here) so I don't have to nag tech support for help when they need changing, doing family stuff, home stuff. I did go to a poetry magazine launch yesterday (shock, horror!) but I'll write more about that when I can link to the new issue on their website (should be soon).

In the meantime h and I were talking about poetry this morning (partly because of the launch yesterday, partly because they've been reading lots of poems at school of late). She was quite surprised when I told her that most of the poems read at yesterday's event didn't rhyme (mine included). "Well, yes," she said authoritatively, "it is harder to make them rhyme - you've got to think of the right words." Well, it made me laugh anyway. Especially considering my last, very long, very rhyming poem (here). It's about an asylum... which seems so fitting at times.

More soon.

p.s. Tim Minchin on Radio 4's "Desert Island Discs" here.

Last words?

Just a quick one... a poem I wrote a couple of years ago that I've read out and about twice recently and had a few comments about. I guess it's not one that the poetry magazines will exactly snap up so it's not worth keeping it hidden away and all that. Instead... here it is:




Last words

I am not old
I'm just well run-in
I am not past it
I'm just past youth
I am not useless
I'm full of stories
I am not over
I'm living truth

I am a mother
And so a daughter
I am a heartbeat
That might be heard
I am a poem
That's all I leave you
I am a lesson
Word follows word



RF 2010

Last call?

Who have we been visiting?

Out and about

A couple of things seen in Leeds city centre yesterday...

In one of the many shopping centre/malls:




And in the old market:



Very much enjoying being in England and visiting all the nearest and dearest. Looking forward to getting home for a rest!

x