Thanks to a very dear friend I had a wonderful stay at the Lord Crewe Arms Hotel in Blanchland last night. The hotel was originally built as the abbot’s lodge guest house and kitchens of Blanchland Abbey.

This was the first of my ’special’ birthday celebrations(More to follow) We had a great start to our stay when the owner of the hotel brought complimentary tea and two fabulous pieces of chocolate cake up to our room - he’d even iced ‘happy birthday’ in chocolate onto the plate.

The hotel is said to be haunted by the ghost of Dorothy Forster, wife of the first Lord Crewe and there were people at the hotel last night, with little meters and other gadgets trying to track down poor Dorothy while my friend and I sat in the bar chasing different kinds of spirits!

The food was delicious, though we did panic a bit when we saw the snow start to fall again around ten in the evening - we had visions (not really!) of being trapped for days up on the fells with only sheep and ghostbusters for company. Even the parked cars joined in by spasmodically letting rip with their alarms. Quite a wild and wierd night to say the least.

Had a really great day at the Bowes Museum today and I’m very much looking forward to my residency in March.

I’m going to be working with various school groups during March, but today was a research day. You could feel the excitement building as the clock ticked towards 2.00 pm. Nearly everyone in the museum made their way to sit in the company of the magnificent silver swan as she gave her 30 second performance.

I’m very relieved to have received a sticker from the children this week, literally giving me the thumbs up. Last week was the only week I did not get one from them which made me feel quite sad.

They obviously enjoyed me reading Wordsworth’s Dafffodils to them and talking about the poem more that I had dared to hope. Just shows what five-year-olds can engage with given half a chance.

Another two drawings presented to me today as gifts from the children. Makes my 5.30 am start worthwhile!

I was delighted to learn today that the bandstand in North Lodge Park in Darlington is to be restored!

Between July, 2004 and December, 2005 I was writer-in-residence at the park and had fantastic support from The Friends of North Lodge Park who have fought tirelessly for the restoration of the bandstand and indeed for the upkeep of the park. During my residency, as well as producing an anthology of writing by the local residents and schoolchildren I wrote a small pamphlet called ‘Tongues in Trees’ dedicated entirely to the trees felled during the course of my residency. I deliberately priced this pamphlet at £1 in order that I might sell a large number of copies. In the event sales from the pamphlet topped £500 and I donated the money to the Friends of North Lodge Park so that replacement trees could be planted.

One of the sad things was that the delightful bandstand could not be restored during my residency and had to be boarded up for safety reasons. I wrote a poem dedicated to the bandstand and it was set around the bandstand itself attached to the hoardings. Quite a number of poems in the community anthology are dedicated to this much-loved bandstand and I am absolutely thrilled to learn that at long last it is to be restored.

Some of the photographs posted here were

Back on my project at the primary school today. Here are the presents I received from children on 12th January. Now then, just wondering if it’s OK to glue five-year-olds to the carpet.

Pictures speak louder than words!

virtual movie making with Steve and Barry - I thought my brain hurt when I was trying to write my thesis - but a day with these two’s finished me off completely!!

Here are a few random comments (in no particular order!)

Steve, my world’s going round
Yes I’ve been around the block a few times as well
Hang on, I’m going to beam you both up
Hell Steve, Miss Shanon’s lost in Kirth Hax’s private quarters!
Bugger it; I’m going to abandon ship!
No no - don’t do that, you need to go back to the hangar
How!
Just click on your wall. Now go and get another bloody spaceship!
This is a different ship – I’m not used to it.
Oh for f**** sake!
Steve, I’ve let Mark 2 drop off the edge of the building
F*** it - can’t I get some decent staff to work with: poets and bloody parish councillors - other people get professionals - what do I get, bloody poets and parish councillors!!
Where am I?
Did you go up in that lift?
Which lift?
You must have gone up in the lift
I don’t even know how to open the lift doors!
Steve, there’s no stuff coming out
That’s nice, I came past its nose
Tell Charlie I’m coming
I’m out of it
I can’t go any further back Steve
You’ve backed into a wall for God’s sake
Abandon ship!
The lift’s gone
What do you mean - gone!
What am I doing down here?
Steve! Steve, who’s this blond girl with the short white skirt
Dunno - go and talk to her
How
C***** have you forgotten how to walk already!
She’s winking at me now
Do something
Do what? - Where’s she come from?
Dunno, it’s someone’s attavar from somewhere else in the world -
do you realise, Maureen, you’re communicating with someone else somewhere else in the world
Don’t like it!
Steve! I’m floating round and round in the clouds again
Get back to the bloody hangar
How - oh yes I remember
Ah! I’ve entered a black hole
Abandon ship!
Steve, how do I turn round?
C***** A******* I leave you alone for two minutes and you forget how to turn round! I said walk towards me - why have you stopped!
I didn’t stop - look I still have my finger on the button - I have, haven’t I Barry!
She has
F*** - Try it now
Does it matter if I keep walking and knock you down?
I’d rather you didn’t,
OK, I’ll try not to
I’ve got a black one now - don’t like it as much as my other one
Yes but it has plumes - it will be better
Like my other one better. Can I try and get one from the other pod? Ah it’s blue this time - that’s better
For C*****’* sake!
Abandon Ship!
Do I press teleport now Steve?
Steve! Do I press teleport now?
Do what the F*** you like!
Why am I walking like this?
We haven’t animated your walk properly yet
Oh!
Look it’s really coming down now, I’ll never get up the bank.
Hang On, I’ll change the weather
No, I mean, it’s really coming down now - look
I said, hang on, I’ll change the F****** weather
No! No! look outside; the snow - the real world, I mean the real world
F*** - Abandon ship!

Delighted to say that three poems from ‘Chasing the Ivy’ have been included in the December, 2009 edition of the

And there it was - gone! and I don’t even feel like thinking about getting back into a routine! and yet, and yet, my first few appointments for 2010 are already in the diary.

Christmas 2009 has been a truly white Christmas. I have enjoyed just being here - having my precious family with me over this very special time especially since it was Marie and James’ first Christmas as a married couple. I enjoyed them so much I forgot to take photographs of their visit, but the images a burnt onto my heart.

We take our loved ones, those who love us and those whom we love so much for granted and I have reflected a lot on this over Christmas because we can take nothing for granted. These reflections have been my way of bringing what’s really important into sharp focus.

Well I’m glad to say that yet again I earned some stickers from the children.

Today we had ‘cat’ as our word of the day, and I wore my cat earrings. We found rhyming words for cat and identified words that begin with cat. We talked about different kinds of cats and I read them some of Spike Milligan’s funny poems about lions, tigers, cheetahs and leopards and we talked about how the same word can mean different things, e.g. spot as in the spot on a leopard and spot as in another word for see.

I read them the fabulous old poems ‘McCavity the Mystery Cat’ and
‘The Owl and the Pussycat’, I’d forgotten how wonderful old poems like this are and how musical. We then talked a bit about rhyming couplets and the children identified where these two poems rhymed before trying to write two pairs of rhyming couplets of their own.

Last Tuesday I started a new project at a primary school just outside Newcastle. I’m working with thirty absolutely delicious five-year-olds and their lovely teacher.

The project will carry over into 2010 and I will have nine sessions with them in all. Last Tuesday I gave them a word for the day which was ‘gold’ and we had lots of fun finding rhyming words and connected words and I read them the story of King Midas which they loved. I must have been OK because I was awarded two paper stickers, (photograph attached).

We made a poetry corner and I’m really looking forward over the coming weeks to filling their heads and hearts with poetry. There is something really grounding about working with such young children. I hope I will be able to give them a gift, a love, a way of seeing things that will stay with them.

We read limericks including one about a giraffe (I wore my giraffe earrings) and I made up a new limerick for them about a giraffe.

I wonder if they will give me a sticker this coming Tuesday when our theme will be cats.

Isn’t it funny how the smallest things can give you such pleasure. I received an order recently for my latest poetry collection, ‘Chasing the Ivy’ and the person ordering the book included a single ivy leaf. Such a small thing but a hugely thoughtful act and it gave me such pleasure.

I have already put the leaf with my reading programme and will take it with me as a good luck charm to my launch next Wednesday evening at the Lit and Phil.

I was thrilled to be part of Carol Ann’s ‘warm-up act’ at Durham Town Hall last Friday night, 30 October and to have shared the stage with four great north east women poets.

It is so encouraging to read to such a big audience and everyone was so marvellously attentive. This north east region has been rich in poetry events over the past two months. The Seamus Heaney nights in Newcastle in October were magical. Seamus is such a gracious man despite his profile - wonderful.

At Durham I read from my latest collection, ‘Chasing the Ivy’ [which has its official launch at the Lit and Phil in Newcastle on 11 November at 7pm. At half-time we did book signing and I assumed that everyone would probably keep their hands in their pockets until it was time to buy

Earlier in the day I went into Low Newton Prison to give a workshop and read. This group was so appreciative. The prison had taken the trouble to obtain copies of all my books and the women were ready with questions about my poems and willing to discuss them. Today I received an email from the prison telling me about the response to my workshop - it was a lovely email and makes doing this sort of thing really worthwhile and satisfying.

Onwards and upwards now - must put my mind to the official launch - NEXT WEEK!

Maureen Almond is delighted to announce the official launch of her sixth collection, (Pub. Biscuit, 2009)

Chasing the Ivy

at the

Lit and Phil in Newcastle

on

Wednesday, 11th November, 2009

at

7pm

FREE ENTRY - Wine and Nibbles

————————————————————————————————————————————————————————– (continued)

In these modernizing versions of the thirty-eight poems of the Latin poet Horace’s
first book of Odes from two millennia ago, Maureen Almond addresses the
contemporary poetic career in lyric form, and casts a passionate, ironic and comic
eye on trying to break into and advance through today’s literary world. Horace
comes alive again in this wry, entertaining and well-wrought collection.

Professor Stephen Harrison

(Fellow and Tutor in Classics, Corpus Christi College, Oxford
Professor of Latin Literature, University of Oxford)

Maureen Almond has taken her place in a line of distinguished English
interpreters of Horace-a line which includes Milton, Marvel, Dryden, Pope, and
Tennyson. In The Works, she produced what is surely the most significant creative
engagement with Horace’s Epodes in recent times. Her work will continue to be seen
as one of the significant contributions to the tradition of English poetry linked to the
classics, and one of the freshest and most original bodies of English poetry in our time.

Dr John Talbot

(Associate Professor of English and Affiliated Faculty in Classics, Brigham Young University)

Chasing the Ivy is a brilliant and wholly original take on the world of contemporary
British poetry, of arts-funding, sponsorships residencies and the glittering prizes.
Maureen Almond draws on Horace’s Odes to lay bare the vanity, envy, snobbery
and ambition of so much of the poetry scene - fading poets, fashionable poets and
amateur poets - with the satirical bite of Pope, Swift and Dryden. But Chasing the Ivy
is also a hymn to the civilised Horatian virtues of work, community and friendship,

gentle comedy and wise seriousness.

Andy Croft

The recurring concerns of Maureen’s work – trenchant social analysis, ageing and
nostalgia, contemporary politics, and the difficulties of maintaining one’s own voice
in the face of a competitive literary community and established poetic tradition – make
for a strongly Horatian brew, but in Chasing the Ivy the originality of conception,
sensitivity to structure, and liveliness of language go well beyond the laborious
straitjacket of translation.

Dr. L. B. T. Houghton

Department of Classics, University of Glasgow

My darling daughter, Marie, married James on 12th September, 2009 at 2pm

There are so many photographs (and we haven’t even got the official ones yet), so I’m posting just a few for anyone who might like to share them.

I’m pleased to say that I have a chapter in the just published ‘Living Classics: Greece and Rome in Contemporary Poetry in English’ (Ed S.J. Harrison) published by Oxford University Press

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Living-Classics-Contemporary-Classical-Presences/dp/019923373X/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1251845455&sr=1-1

I’m delighted to be in the line-up of readers reading on the same bill as Carol Ann Duffy at Durham Town Hall on 30th October as part of the Durham Literature Festival.

http://www.journallive.co.uk/culture-newcastle/arts-news/2009/08/24/writers-look-forward-to-durham-book-festival-61634-24517340/

The least said about the Pink Flamingo Cocktails, the better!

In the meantime though, last weekend, I was invited to share with Marie and her ‘young hens’, her hen celebrations in Cambridge. It was a real privilege to be with such a lovely group of girls and I thank them so much for making me feel welcome and part of the group. We went punting on the Cam on Saturday afternoon, then for a meal at Browns in the evening, followed by Pink Flamingo cocktails elsewhere (but the least said about this the better!). On Sunday we went bowling, played air hockey etc. and finished off with ‘as-much-as-you-can-eat frozen yoghurt.

It made me remember one of the poems I wrote, Barren, (reproduced below) in my collection called, ‘Recollections’. Many of the artefacts about which I wrote poems were found in and around this area and in fact the artefact which inspired this poem is a Hare brooch made of bronze and enamel dated 2nd century AD and found at Hadrian’s Wall.

Barren

Last night, for a moment, he shone.
I thought I saw him run across the moon.
I took it as a good-luck sign,
a reward because I’d eaten hare
every ninth day and prayed to Juno
and remembered to recline
by the crackling fire after we made love.
But this morning my blood runs cold;
again. There are shivers down my spine
as women cradle bundles to their breasts.
What a disappointment I must be;
what a failure in the eyes of my fine
figure of a legionary husband,
who soldiers on in this desolate place,
where all the emptiness is mine.

http://www.maison-internationale-poesie.be

Fascinating to see my work in another language especially when I don’t speak it. The translations do seem to carry the same rhythm as my originals and don’t seem to have lost much at all in the translation.

The book has also been reviewed by Andy Croft in the Morning Star
http://www.morningstaronline.co.uk as well as by Sally Evans in ‘Poetry Scotland’ http://www.zen39641.zen.co.uk/ps/reviews.htm
It has also received a favourable mention in ‘British Centre for Literary Translation’ and in ‘Other Poetry’

Posters from some of the bigger events where I’ve read my versions of Horace

The evening of 1st July at Lincoln’s Inn could not have been lovelier! This was an absolutely glorious setting and I was privileged to read in The Old Hall.

Dinner started with a chilled leek, potato and watercress soup which was most welcome on this, one of the hottest days of the year in London. To make readers’ mouths water I have posted a copy of the menu along with this entry.

I was very generously introduced and thanked by The President, Professor R.H.A. Jenkyns who, at the end of my reading, kindly referred to me as a “true Horatian". What an honour in such august company! I was delighted too, that Luke Houghton was in attendance, he had originally proposed that I read and is always very supportive of my work. I read a selection of poems from ‘The Works’ and from ‘Chasing the Ivy’ and of course ended with my personal homage to Horace, which is my version of Odes 1.32 and acknowledges Professor Stephen Harrison who has kindly acted as my scholarly adviser for the past five or six years, and whom I refer to in the poem as “the man of Latin” who first turned me on to Horace.

I took my daughter, Marie and her fiance, James as my guests. They were as ever, tremendously supportive, they sold books, took photographs and quite honestly tended to my every need in order to make the experience as enjoyable as possible for me.

Before the dinner we toasted The Queen and Horace of course. I stayed on orange juice until after my reading; then, and only then was it nunc est bibendum for me!

I have now taken my versions of Horace to so many different venues and to so many different audiences, everything from a converted cinema in Thornaby where we had pie and peas provided by the Mayor of Thornaby, to Washington (Co. Durham), Nifty Fifties Club, to Corpus Christi College Oxford, to Dead Good Poets in Liverpool, to Newcastle University, Durham University, the Lit and Phil in Newcastle, Glasgow University, the Classical Association Conference and now here, to

I was most gratified by the number of guests who took the trouble to seek me out during the general socialising time after the event, to tell me how much they’d enjoyed by poems and even more satisfied that they were able to connect them with Horace and the originals. One gentleman told me he’d already bought ‘Chasing the Ivy’ via the internet and that he’d enjoyed it very much. He also told me that I looked much younger in person than in my photograph on the back of my book - always nice to hear!

I’d like now to take Horace to some Literature festivals, Ledbury, Aldebrough etc. but it is quite difficult to get into them. I can but try, but for now, having chased the ivy, I’m resting on my laurels, at least for a little while!

Well here it is, 30th June and tomorrow evening is when I get to read some of my meagre versions of Horace to the esteemed members of the Horatian Society. I look forward to this event with both trepidation and a sense of excitement. Part of me is asking myself ‘how dare I, a non-classicist, offer my versions to such experts’ and yet I try to calm myself by remembering that I was asked and surely before they asked me they must have had some idea of how I treat Horace.

I’m here in London, at what surely must be the hottest time of the year so far - and me a cool-climate fan! Pouring myself into my little black number ready for Horace tomorrow evening will be no mean achievement in these temperatures, but as ever we artists must suffer for our art.

I have kept out of the heat today, let’s hope that my presentation tomorrow night results in guests being hot-under-the-collar for positive and right reasons rather than feeling that I have abused Horace. Actually what I love about Horace is his wit and wisdom, his unique and knowing observations of human interaction. In versioning Horace I look for congruence - congruence between Horace’s worlds and my own. I will be thrilled if the company of Horatians present tomorrow evening is able to recognise that…. more to follow after tomorrow night!

The conference, hosted by University of Glasgow at the Crowne Plaza Hotel went without a hitch. I had a view from my bedroom window right up the Clyde which was magnificent. There are some beautiful buildings in Glasgow not least of which are the City Chambers where the conference delegates were kindly invited for a reception by the Lord Provost. The Jesuit Church of St. Aloysius is another absolutely wonderful building.

Now it might sound from all of this that I was on holiday. In fact, nothing could be further from the truth. I was privileged to be on a panel,’Social Function in Horace’, with Professor Stephen Harrison from Oxford and Professor John Moles from Newcastle and I delivered a paper called, ‘The Usefulness of Horace (other poets and me!)’ Speaking of which if anyone reading this blog was at my panel and didn’t manage to get one of my handouts, then feel free to email me and I’ll make sure you get one.

This venue is the first I’ve read at where I’ve actually had a copy of my collection ‘Chasing the Ivy’, although I have read work-in-progress at several venues in the last couple of years - nice to have the book itself at long last and thank you to all those people who bought a copy.

The conference was striking in that there was a high percentage of young people presenting papers as well as worthy academics. This made for a very interesting mix and made the conference feel very vibrant. I am always surprised at the breadth and width of knowledge held by many young people - they are impressive!

As always with such events discussions went on until late into the night and there was wine (Horace would certainly have approved!)and I was introduced to a delicious whiskey I’d not tasted before, Laphroaig - it is peaty and best taken with just a hint of water to bring out its full flavour and smoothness. Something else to remember for my Christmas list I think.

Here are some photographs I took during the conference. There are none of me actually working - but I did work - honestly!
(I have blocked out or chopped friends from my photos because I don’t think I should assume everyone wants their face on my blog!)

I’ve just picked up my allocation of my latest poetry collection, ‘Chasing the Ivy’. There’s nothing quite like having the books right there in front of you. Thanks to the editor of Biscuit Publishing, Brian Lister and to everyone involved in the production of the book.

If you’re a classical scholar reading this, particularly if you’re an Horatian scholar, you may be interested in these ‘versions’. If you’re involved in the contemporary poetry scene, you may also be interested. Here’s a little taster from the book:

Ode to Young Poets
(after Horace Ode 1:21 Dianam tenerae)

Girls, don’t be scared to fantasise, sex sells,
you boys as well, erotica is hot.
Use basic instinct: that’s what hits the spot.

Young women watch Madonna light the stage.
She revels in her form, gets in your head
to stir things up that otherwise were dead.

Lads, why not take the pop stars as your models?
Their stubbled sex appeal is ripe for books.
Arouse with rhyme what Robbie does with looks.

Those two could break your block, stuff empty words
with promise, give your editors a ball
and drive the weakling-writers to the wall.

If anyone is interested in buying a copy it will be available from Biscuit Publishing Ltd. P.O Box 123, Washington, Tyne & Wear, NE37 2YW or by contacting info@biscuitpublishing.com or through their website which is www.biscuitpublishing.com It will also be available through Amazon.

I will be reading from the collection and giving an address for The Horatian Society in London on 1st July.

For any interested Horatian scholars; once the book is published I will put some poems from the collection up on this website.

On Wednesday, 24th December, Pepe will have been dead three months. Not a day has gone by in that time when I haven’t thought about him. We got him on Christmas Eve 1993, and when I found his Christmas stocking among the decorations a couple of weeks ago we decided to hang it, as usual, on the corner of the mantelpiece. We will all think about him on Christmas Day, especially since this will be the first Christmas without him for a very long time. Marie and James had a lovely photograph of him curled up asleep enlarged and framed for our wedding anniversary and this also now has pride of place above the mantelpiece.

How one little mongrel dog brought a whole family so much happiness is almost beyond belief - but he did and we celebrate his life.

My presentation and reading for the Classics Undergraduates at the University of Durham went well I think last Thursday. It was nice for me to re-visit my own poems and have to think again about what drove them initially.

The students were, lively and asked lots of interesting questions which I always find very helpful because it makes me examine my motives for writing as well as keeping me on my toes. Talking of which, in a very real sense I did not keep on my toes on Thursday - well I did whilst I was with the students, but on the way to the loo, back in the Department after lunch, I didn’t see a step in the corridor and ended up flat on the floor. I’m still hurting, though actually the shock and embarrassment were as bad as the bruises; I was just glad that nobody came along the corridor as I was gathering myself together and getting myself back onto my feet - so yes, I truly did fall for Ovid on Thursday! Would that I could have metamorphosed into water and trickled gently over the unseen step instead of falling down it with a crash.

I’m keeping a long-standing engagement for the Department of Classics at Durham University on 11 December. I have been asked to give my views and my approach on translation which is really ironic since I don’t have a second language. Actually, I’ve come to realise in recent years, particularly since becoming involved with the recontextualisation of ancient texts, that although I have to work from already exisiting translations, my versions are, nevertheless, translations - or at least interpretations. In a sense all translation is interpretation it cannot be anything else.

What has been doubly interesting in preparing for this talk/presentation to the classics undergraduates, is that I have had to re-engage with my own earlier poems from ‘Oyster Baby’, particularly those for which Ovid’s Metamorphoses was the inspiration.

Below I have added a poem from ‘Oyster Baby’, “Eurydice The Second” about which Professor Stephen Harrison in his paper ‘Bimillenary Ovid: Some Recent Versions of the Metamorphoses’ (see http://users.ox.ac.uk/~sjh/documents/OVmilfin.doc) says, “The combination of wry humour and pathos is very effective: quite apart from the transposition of the Underworld to the Underground, Eurydice is ’swept off her feet’ by the crowd and not by her husband, who though he is a ‘charmer’ (a witty allusion to his famous beast-charming activities) will make her die slowly in a bad marriage rather than in the swift demise of the myth.” Carol Ann Duffy also did a fascinating version of this myth in her collection, ‘The World’s Wife’ and Seamus Heaney’s version appears in the ‘After Ovid’ anthology. Each new interpretation of a text hopefully adds an extra dimension to the original, offering new ways of understanding.

In the meantime here is a photograph of the front cover of ‘Oyster Baby’ which was published by Biscuit Publishing in 2002 in case anyone wants to order a copy! www.biscuitpublishing.com

Eurydice the Second

He lost her on the Piccadilly Line,
an easy mistake, but careless,
given they were still on honeymoon.

Swept off her feet in the rush,
she turned to see him bent double,
hands on his godly hips – laughing.

And his cold-echo laugh dragged her back,
bounced off the platform like tears,
until she saw the funny side.

After that she kept in step with him,
walked in his shadow
as the tube snaked off into blackness.
For he was a charmer,
and hers was a slow, slow dying.

At last I have been able to complete your poem Pepé. Sometimes I still cry, but you were such an inspiration, so full of fun. This poem is a celebration of your character - of your life.

Sonnet for Pepé

When I was reduced to tears by your sentence
I wondered whether time meant anything to you;
if you understood years, months, weeks or if a few
days would be as good as a lifetime. Your sense

of things permitted no blackness, no silence
no change of routine, no wallowing. You grew,
as you always did, into each fresh hour. Too
busy chasing leaves, paper, sticks, to be tense

about tomorrow. You let nothing go:
You didn’t waste a moment: for a moment
could be months or years for all we know.
You wouldn’t let me be sad; you were content
and taught me the same trick - status quo.
So this is celebration darling, not lament.

Reading to the Department of Classics Research Seminar group and The Classical Association of Scotland, Glasgow & West Centre on 28th October, 2008 was a real pleasure. It was a very rewarding experience to have my versions of Horace so enthusiastically well received and to have yet another opportunity to test my work-in-progress. I enjoyed the questions from the floor. I find these always make me reconsider what I’m doing and why I’m doing it.

Once again we finished the evening by retiring to a rather nice Italian restaurant for a meal and wine, (not quite Falernian), but absolutely the only way to celebrate Horace.

My thanks go to Luke and Costas for inviting me, to Susan and to Alan for his wonderful introduction and to everyone who came to the reading and received my work so warmly.

Maybe some time in the future I will be able to finish the sonnet I started a while ago in your honour Pepé, but right now, it’s just too soon.

Thank’s Peps, for all the joy and fun and love you brought into our lives.

Again, with gratitude to Mary’s friend, Laura, who not only gave me her disposable camera, but took this photograph of Mary (she’s the attractive, blond one!) and myself.

The Wallace Memorial towers above Stirling. These pictures were taken from the grounds of the University.

I didn’t manage to get a good enough picture of the many rabbits or the oyster-catchers, but here are a few views taken in the wonderful grounds of Stirling University. It’s not every university that has its very own loch!

Thanks to Laura who kindly gave me a disposable camera (I stupidly went to the poetry and translation conference with a flat battery in my digital camera), I have a few images which I’ve scanned in.

Stirling University was founded in 1967 and the first Principal was Professor Tom Cottrell who was a great supporter of the arts, feeling that they should be part of our everyday lives.

The ‘Blue Boy’ sculpture which was commissioned by the University was the work of Iain McColl.

What an absolutely stunning campus this is at Stirling University. The university has its own Loch, there are swans, rabbits and oyster catchers who are more than making their presence felt at the conference.

We’ve had two great poetry readings from Elaine Feinstein and Ciaran Carson and I managed to deliver my paper ‘Processing Horace’ which seemed to be very well received. I will be doing a straightforward short poetry reading tomorrow and then we have a Ceilidh tomorrow evening at Stirling Castle which I’m very much looking forward to.

The only disappointment is that my camera isn’t working and I so wanted to get some pictures to put up on the website.

As someone who speaks only one language,I feel a bit of a fraud among so many multi-lingual experts, but actually as I thought, the principles of intra-lingual translation have a lot in commom with inter-lingual translation and it has been a real pleasure to be able to share my thoughts and processes in this environment.

I’m off to the University of Stirling to attend and present at the Poetry and Translation Conference between 16 and 20 July and am very much looking forward to it.

More about the conference later, but in the meantime here’s my translation poster. I will be talking about intralingual translation and will be using Horace Odes 1.5 to demonstrate my process for creating contemporary poetry inspired by Horace.

Here’s my Kilburn Horse poem, I offer it as a dedication to the children of Husthwaite Primary School to remind us all of my great three days with them.

The Kilburn Horse

I fold my wings and hide them in my mane
no one knows my secret: I can fly!
As darkness falls I fix my one green eye
on distant hills beyond fields fat with grain.

Imagine clouds that roll towards the moors; a strain
of thunder stirring up a storm. The sky
so full of tears, it’s just about to cry.
I strike my hooves to swell the Swale with rain

because on nights like these I love to chase
the stars. I love the feeling when I leap
the crescent moon, and land in some strange place
where other horses live on hills and keep
a watchful eye on villages. This space –
this moor is mine when everyone’s asleep.

I spent 3 great days last week at Husthwaite Primary School on a project for NAWE (National Association of Writers in Education. It was so refreshing being allowed to have three whole full days with children doing poetry. I hope to be able to put a couple of examples of their poems up here soon.

I have to mention Shandy Hall in the beautiful village of Coxwold where I stayed. If you’re in the area you really must take the time to visit Shandy Hall it’s a fantastic place presided over by Patrick, who is a mine of information. In this, the former home of Tristram Shandy, you do get the opportunity to play with the notion of time and how it passes.

The Kilburn Horse is looking pretty good too and I will put the poem up I wrote in honour of the horse shortly.

The NAWE project is a three year study that will look at the effectiveness of writers in schools.

Here is another wonderful picture taken by Glyn Goodrick and my poem to match. If you’re tempted by these poems and/or pictures, they are from ‘Recollections’ available from Flambard Press. www.flambardpress.co.uk

Fortuna

Your wings
are still buried
in our muddy river
yet you offer, with your right hand,
a drink.

Top Up
every barrel
daughter of Jupiter.
We owe our rough times and our smooth
to you.

So cheers!
Our Geordie cups
will always be half-full
not half-empty: that’s our nature.
Good health.

Who knows
the stone’s story
or what blessings it brought,
but we are the inheritors.
Our thanks

Fortune,
You smiled on us.
First angel of the North,
from your horn of plenty you filled
the Tyne.

On the pull and undressed-down to kill
he’s out on the town with a vengeance
two pints and he struts like a lion;
wears the skin on his sleeve.

And if his right arm’s raised in passion
it’s not that he’s waiting to strike.
Travolta-slim hips on the wriggle;
that’s the action he seeks.

He’s more of a god than a hero
to whole legions of men in the north.
The sight of him makes every woman
fall in praise at his feats.

They see past his hard reputation
past the belt-grabbing lover of ale
to a disarmed man who would travel
the far ends of the earth.

Look again at the Shields man the god;
test his metal against other men.
Then tell me who you’d rather ride with,
in the bowl of the sun.

Ruins of St. Andrews Cathedral, The Thorn Tree in the Quadrangle of St. Mary’s College. This tree is purported to have been planted by Mary Queen of Scots in 1563, and finally, St. Andrews Castle.

During the week commencing 21 April I spent a great four days at beautiful St. Andrews. It really is the most amazing place. Staff at the school of English look out on St. Andrews Castle and then out to sea. I really don’t know how anyone manages to get any work done, given the view they have from their windows.

It was lovely catching up with Robert Crawford again and chatting with Don Paterson. Isn’t it funny how the busiest of people can always somehow manage to find time for you!

In between planning presentations and the usual exciting stuff of housework, (and Oh yes! being informed that next year I am to become the mother of the bride and that dreaded figure, a mother-in-law)I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the usefulness of poetry, linked of course to Horace’s view that it should be both beautiful and useful.

Naturally, when Horace talked about ‘useful’ he had entirely different ideas in his mind than I have now - I wouldn’t dream of setting myself up as a teacher of morals and behaviour, but then I guess he wouldn’t have gone to down town Rome to tackle issues of exclusion, or to an endangered patch of green to provide an opportunity for the local community to express their views and anxieties. Which ever way you look at it though, I suppose both Horace and myself are making a social commentary - would that I could make mine with his eloquence!

It is with this idea of usefulness, or perhaps more accurately accepting that poetry may have a societal role,

I’m not sure yet whether this is the name by which our group will be known, but basically we are members of the Poetry Society with
TS, DL and DH postcodes. This evening, 31 March, marked our second meeting as a group and I have to say that I’d forgotten how enjoyable it can be meeting with like-minded people simply to discuss poetry and poems in an informal setting.

Poetry, especially poetry-writing can be quite a lonely activity, sometimes you can be so close to your own work as not to be able to cast a good critical eye over it. Even more remarkably sometimes there are threads and sub-texts in your work that you didn’t know were there until someone else told you.

If anyone reading this blog wants to find out more about the Poetry Society or Poetry Society Stanzas go to

Join the Poetry Society: www.poetrysociety.org.uk/content/membership/

Please see http://www.poetrysociety.org.uk/content/membership/news/.

Contrary to popular belief I have not left the country, I’ve just not been blogging recently.

My residency at the Museum of Antiquities has come to an end. It has been a great experience and I’ve worked with some fantastic people on this project. The director, Lindsay Allason-Jones commissioned me to write a small collection of 28 poems to celebrate the closing of this wonderful museum prior to its incorporation into the Great North Museum.

The collection with great accompanying photographs taken by the Museum’s IT and media officer, Glyn Goodrick is available from Flambard Press at www.flambardpress.co.uk

PS If you want to see the poem that goes with the little figure of Hercules, click into the ‘poetry’ section and look for ‘South Shields God’

Along with Professor Stephen Harrison I contributed to the series, ‘The Essay: Greek and Latin Voices’ on BBC Radio 3 last night, 18th December, 2007 at 11pm

If you missed my comments and reading why not use the Listen Again facility on the BBC website, the link for this programme is:

www.bbc.co.uk/radio3/speechanddrama/index.shtml

Calling all Horace fans: Listen to BBC Radio 3 at 11pm on Tuesday, 18th December, 2007 to hear Professor Stephen Harrison, Fellow and Tutor in Classics, Corpus Christi College, Oxford, Professor of Classical Languages and Literature, University of Oxford, giving a commentary, and myself reading some of my ‘versions’ of Horace poems.

The programme is called, The Essay:Greek and Latin Voices

I owe a big thank-you to Professor Stephen Harrison who came up from Oxford specially to give commentaries on how my poems relate to the Horatian texts and I know from the feedback I’ve had so far that everyone found his explanations very interesting and enlightening.

After the event a twelve of us went to supper and I must say I felt very supported by the classics professors, lecturers and senior lecturers from Newcastle, Durham and Glasgow Universities.

For me this was a celebration not only of my own poetry but of Horace himself and the evening ending with a lovely supper made the whole event feel like a proper Horace symposium. In terms of nunc est bibendum, it was and we did! Cheers Horace!

It’s been a eventful visit actually, apart from my recording the programme for BBC Radio 3 and visiting Chedworth and Cirencester, I spent all day last Friday at a conference about Theorising Performance which was very interesting and there were lots of overlaps between the idea of performance and poetry readings. I then went to a lovely launch party and supper at Magdalen for Oliver Taplin’s latest book. We had an open-air supper under the cloisters at Magdalen and it was great catching up with so many people I know and meeting new ones.

Anyway, back to the packing!

This face, darling, could bring wise men to war,
it doesn’t need your macho-man protection.
I’m used to being the centre of attention,
it’s jealousy I seek, not country air.

The smell of goat’s best sampled from afar,
as for lyre-skills, dear, that’s pure invention,
a ruse, to make you think it’s my intention
to sooth your muse, not follow my own star.

I’ll gladly join you in a glass of red,
but I’m not for interweaving through the night.
By ten I’m usually ready for my bed,
to dream of Cyrus’ passions at their height.

And turning men to pigs; that’s in your head.
You do it to yourselves – put out the light.

For the first time since I arrived I finally got to my favourite spot in the Corpus library. I’m in search of information on Horace’s women, so that I can give them the opportunity to answer back in my version of Odes Book I.

I had another fascinating lunchtime chat about that very subject with Robin Nisbet on Wednesday. He’s an absolute fountain of knowledge and of course I do appreciate that it is a matter of debate about whether the named women in Horace’s Odes actually existed. One of the good things about writing poetry is that one can take liberties, so whether or not they really did exist in Horace’s poems, I have given them a life in my versions, based on information and inspiration from various Odes.

I don’t feel brave enough to share them with Robin, but have posted one in my poetry section - enjoy!

I visited the Roman Villa at Chedworth and Cirencester Museum on Thursday and saw some fantastic mosaics. If I could have floors like this I would rip my carpets up tomorrow!

I found the ones at Chedworth really inspiring because they are still positioned in exactly the place they were originally laid down. I found myself wondering how many sandal-clad feet had trodden those mosaics, imagined the chatter in the bath house, it’s so much more real when these things are left in their original places.

I bought a couple of lovely postcards of some of the mosaics, but I can’t put them up here because of copyright restrictions. I’m hoping that a photograph I took will turn out OK so that I can put one up here later.

We had to work through a live link to Bristol and they could pick up noises from our studio in Oxford that we couldn’t even hear ourselves! The wonders of technology.

Since doing the recording a horrible thought struck me, when I was asked to speak so that they could get a sound level, I recited ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb’, I hope they don’t get it mixed up with my Horace poems!

Forgot to mention the reference to Kybald Twychen, this is the old house where I’m staying which was once the home of Eduard Fraenkel himself.

When I arrived on Monday I had to reposition the furniture so that I could find a piece of level floor for the desk. I have enough trouble with computers without trying to work on a slant! But the house has great character and I feel very cosy here.

This coming Monday sees me once again, bound for Corpus Christi College, Oxford. I am looking forward to having time to think, reflect, and do some rewrites of my current work in progress, plus I have to contribute to another exciting little project about which more later!

I continue to be wrapped up in Horace and in that connection, will be ‘in conversation with Professor Stephen Harrison’ of Oxford University. The event will take place at the Lit & Phil in Newcastle at 7pm on November, 16th 2007, so if you’re reading this blog, do come along and support the evening.

I spent 5th and 6th July at the ‘Perceptions of Horace’ Conference at UCL. This is the first time I have read my poetry to a whole audience of Horatians so quite a test! Once again though, and thankfully, my work was enthusiastically received.

At the conference I met several people who up until then had only been well-known names to me - people whose commentaries and writing I keep encountering, real experts like Niall Rudd for example,who gave us a wonderful insight into ‘Horace in Pope’s Correspondence’. I enjoyed meeting and having a chat with Jane Stevenson who presented a paper about women from earlier times, who had interpretted/translated Horace. It was great to have the opportunity to hear such experts in person and have a conversation with them.

I am particularly grateful to Luke Houghton who organised the conference and having already set a very tight programme, managed to squeeze me in after he’d heard me read at the University of Durham in May.

I felt pleased, given the re-working of my versions of Odes based on ‘Odes Book 1′ into tighter form, to have a positive comment from John Talbot from Brigham Young University in the United States - his paper, ‘A Late Flowering of Horatian Alcaics in English Poetry’ was fascinating. I was particulary pleased by the encouragement and positive response from Stephen Moorby of UCL whom I hope to work with in the future. He was very enthusiastic about trying to get my poems to his Latin students which would be good. And of course, as ever, I was greatly supported by Stephen Harrison who introduced my session and who himself gave a great paper on ‘Horace and the Victorians’

I enjoyed meeting up again with Jennifer Ingleheart and Barbara Graziosi from the University of Durham whom I hope to work with on a future project.

All of this - two whole days with Horace and to top it off a meal at the Italian washed down with wine - Horace would have approved. What a feast!

This was a particularly enjoyable event for me, especially having Professor Harrison there with me because ours has been a a wonderful collaboration. I found it most satisfying and surprising that so many people from around the globe can identify with my poetry. Copies of 'The Works' are now at the University of Pennsylvania and the University of Tel Aviv in Jerusalem as well as all points of the compass here. I always hoped that my poems would have a universal appeal, but never imagined they would travel so physically far afield!

My grateful thanks go to Professor Lorna Hardwick and to Carol Gillespie for inviting me to address this conference at The Open University and of course my continued thanks to Professor Harrison.

I did my second reading at the University of Durham on 5th May as part of their Augustan Poetry Day. My presentation, 'Horace in Other Words' was a good opportunity to read some of my work in progress from my recontextualisation of Odes Book I.

I'm very pleased to say that these were well received which is most encouraging at this stage of my PhD.

I'm just about at the end of a fantastic residency at the Museum of Antiquities, University of Newcastle. This is part of the Museum of My life Project facilitated by New Writing North. I have been encouraging people (a great group, by the way!) to write poems based on artefacts in the Roman collection. We've had terrific support from Lindsay Allason Jones and Clare Pickersgill and all the staff at the Museum. Gilly Rogers, (whom I've worked with before and who's great fun), has helped members of the group construct their own individual, personal museums in wooden boxes and our exhibition is launched on 3 April and runs until June.

Anyone who gets the opportunity should make a visit, there are so many stories in the stones and staff are tremendously helpful. The history in this little museum is your history; our history.

Meanwhile, here's my 'Recipe for Englishness' inspired by some of the cooking utensils on display:

Take a couple of hundred Roman soldiers,
spice them up with notions of Empire,
add one Governor, sick for Rome,
sprinkle liberally with bargained pepper,
grind down in a mortarium, huge as a wall,
sweeten generously with honey and wine
then set aside in an amphora,
and cool to 1AD Northern climes.

After two months
add the rotting guts of several local wild boar,
a pinch of broken Celtic hearts,
some onion (for tears).
Stir well.

Pour into olive-oiled black-burnished bowls
and leave to set for two thousand years.

I know I've been pretty quiet lately (unusual for me I know, but needs must) This is just to let people know that 'The Cambridge Companion to Horace' is just out today and my poetry from 'The Works' is cited. I feel so honoured to be in such company.

I'm still very much involved with Horace now that I've started my PhD. At the moment I'm looking again at my versions of Odes, Book I and hopefully, in the not too distant future, I'll be able to get them published - fingers crossed.

Off next week to do a writing retreat and hopefully do more work on my play.

If anyone reading this blog happens to have any views about what they think the role of the poet and poetry is today, I'd be very pleased to receive an email from you

Now that we've done our shopping, sent our cards; now the decorations are up and the presents wrapped, why not remind ourselves of why we do all of this in the first place. Check out the 'Poetry' category for my Christmas poem and to everyone who reads this blog, have a very happy Christmas.

Here's a poem I've written to remind us what Christmas is all about. Happy Christmas to everyone who reads my blog.

Waiting

The track we take is uncertain,
our impressions, lighter than donkey-prints
blown smooth in a storm.

We walk the moon’s path across sands
of time, there’s no measure yet,
except for stars twinkling into dawn.

Homeless in the house of our family
there’s nothing but endless night.
No trumpet sounds; no celebration horn

blows welcome notes into the dark sky.
We are anonymous, nobody important,
with only ass-breath to keep us warm.

Yet I have the wisdom of a mother
who knows she’s full of light,
accepts her pregnant pause with total calm.

And so we stand up to be counted.
Do they reckon my son -
as yet, unborn.

Anyway, enough of that, I spent this afternoon in a very windy North Lodge Park planting an ash tree, one purchased through the sale of my poetry collection, 'Tongues in Trees', from which I have raised about £500

I've spent the past two weeks trying to get to grips with all the admin and systems and IT connected with my PhD. My brain feels like knitted fog, but I think I'm getting there slowly, but surely.

At least the daily journeys to Newcastle all this week have been fruitful, I've been able to apply myself to writing my Tyndaris poem (one of Horace's women), that's when I haven't been falling asleep with my mouth open.

I went to the 'Apartment' in Collingwood Street, Newcastle yesterday (Friday) for the launch of Bitesize Theatre, which is a joint venture between New Writing North, Orange, the Journal and Apartment. Over the next week they will be serving lunch and a play for

This week I've been going through the registration process and beginning the research training for my PhD. In my naivety I thought that the difficult part for me would come when I had to turn my hand to academic research and analysis and the presentation of a thesis - (I have all of that to look forward to!) but as usual it's matters concerned with computers and downloading programmes and getting messages up I don't understand and being told that I can't access a file because it's corrupted and being advised that I'll need to download special software - they're the sorts of things that really stress me out. I didn't want to spend hours wading through booklets and pamphlets and instruction guides about e-portfolios and the special protocol of passwords - this is taking me about as far away from thinking about poetry and writing as it's possible to go, and I hate it. I just hope that everything will become clearer as time goes on, but right now I hate it and it's cracking me up. Why has the world become so very complicated?

In principle I have no problem about identifying my needs and aspirations, my strengths and weaknesses or about setting targets and measuring performance against those targets,I used to do that sort of thing when I was a personnel manager, but why does it need to be so complicated technically. I dare say the 30-somethings and under will have no problems, but there are quite a number of, shall we say, 'more mature' people wanting to undertake study at this level and it's enough to put them off. For me, everything having to be so web-based and technical, even having to think along those lines, kills all creative thought stone dead! At the moment, the facilities being offered are not 'tools' but 'obstacles' and I just hope I can overcome them.

Horace! You thought you had problems recording your rolls, come back and contend with this - see what affect it has on your beautiful lyric verse! Right now I don't want to seize the day, but rather, I'd like to seize someone by the throat, or else run off to some farm in the hills.

I've spent the weekend trying to catch up with paperwork, bringing accounts up to date etc. Still Brian's improving - at least the bin in the kitchen was empty, he'd washed the kitchen floor, tidied and hoovered the rooms and everything was looking pretty spick and span. He'd even managed to keep his laundry to a minimum though I soon had the wash basket full to overflowing by the time I unpacked.

It was at this point that Brian told me the filler pipe to my washer was leaking and he'd had to turn off the water supply - great! So in order to get my laundry done, I had to get him to turn the water on and get the backlog done as quickly as possible so it could be turned back off again. Now there's only the ironing to face - happy days! Back to earth with a thump or what!

Friday 29th found me Teesside bound, with two more bags than I started out with! I just got into Oxford Station when the heavens opened - perhaps this was in some ways a comfort, though it did add to my difficulties when I had to cross from one platform to the other side, with a huge wheelie case, my laptop, handbag, rucksack (with extra tied-on carrier bag containing my dressing gown and slippers which I almost left behind), and an additional M&S bag with shoes and a little Corpus bear.

The journey home was not the best I've ever had because despite the fact that I'd treated myself to 'first class', it was absolutely packed and there never seems to be enough room on the Virgin trains for luggage. When I booked my seat I asked for a single seat opposite the luggage rack. I got a double seat half way along the carriage and consequently spent most of my time checking and rechecking my cases because every time we stopped at a station, people were moving luggage around and train staff re-positioned everyone's cases on the basis of health and safety. Obviously my peace of mind counted for nothing under this heading!

Not to worry, I arrived home in one piece and with memories that I'll keep for ever.

I spent the morning of Thursday 28th in the Bodleian, making lots of final frantic notes for my background reading on Horace and the afternoon visiting the chapels in Merton, All Souls, Brazenose and Oriel, oh yes, and I got into the Radcliffe Camera to read a bit in there and have a look round. (See a picture of this fine building at
www.britainexpress.com/cities/oxford/radcliffe.htm

My final dinner at Corpus was, as usual, wonderful, if tinged with sadness. I could hardly believe that almost a month had gone by. It's been a memorable experience for me.

I've been made to feel so welcome - everyone has been warm and helpful. A huge thank you to everyone at Corpus Christi and to poets and friends at other colleges.

I've just had a thought - for anyone who's interested, go to www.ccc.ox.ac.uk and see a wonderful picture of the college that's been my home for the whole of September.

Back this morning to my favourite place, Corpus Library. I love this old library, I love the way the floor undulates and the benches creak and there are lots of little nooks and crannies for people to work in. I've been filling in a yellow 'please leave' slip to sit on top of the books I've been working on, and today I realised it would be the last time I could do that - and that Thursday will be the last time I can go to my favourite table and find Horace waiting for me. I left some books ready for re-shelving, but felt I had to keep one out, just for one last time and one last visit tomorrow, even though the one I've left out is actually available back at the Robinson at Newcastle University.

I went to lunch with a poetry colleague/English tutor in Christ Church SCR and chatted about poetry stuff and realised just how much I'm going to miss all of this even though I'm dying to see Brian and Pepe again, then back to the Bodleian for a second visit. Sat near a window today so that I wouldn't fall asleep! Final full day in Oxford tomorrow.

I went to the Botanic Gardens yesterday. It was one of those times when I wished I knew a lot more about plants,but one of the things I did enjoy was seeing the oldest tree in he Gardens which is a Yew and was planted in 1645 during the English Civil War. Just looking at this tree, how strong and healthy it is made me feel really insignificant and put me in mind of something Horace said in Ode 2.14 (West translation),

'We must leave the earth, our home,
and the wife we love, and none of these trees you tend
except the hated cypresses
will go with their short-lived master.'

Seeing that wonderful old Yew really brought it home to me, how trees go on renewing themselves, living and dying back, but we live once only then die. No wonder Horace advised us to seize the day.
(The Black Pine, planted in 1800 was also pretty spectacular).

After lunch I went to the Bodleian and picked up my pre-ordered books from the stack. The system worked without a hitch and I spent the afternoon in the Latin room. It's a fantastic place, lots of people in there, some tapping away on laptops, some chilled and reading - a real feeling of being in a place of learning. Trouble was I found it difficult to stay awake. I don't know whether it was the heat of the afternoon, or all the fresh air I'd treated myself to in the Botanic Gardens. In any event I did manage to do quite a bit of reading then took myself off to Starbucks for some blueberry swirl cake.

I've spent another magical day in Corpus library. Thank you Joanna and Anne and Ellen for all the help you've given me, I really appreciate it.

Most of the colleges seem to be using this time before their students arrive, to do maintenance and painting etc. and Corpus is no exception. Over the past few days, I've managed to block out all distractions and enjoy the tranquility of this wonderful library; today though, the buzzing of a very large bluebottle bothered me - funny how such small sounds become acute in a fairly peaceful environment.

The other day I was talking to one of the porters who himself writes poetry. One of his colleagues said to me this morning, 'I read one of your poems and I'd never have matched the poem with you'. I don't know if that's good or bad, but I'm dying to find out which one he read - it's always good to have personal feedback.

The other thing I'm loving about Oxford generally is that so many people in coffee bars, and pubs and on benches read and write. It makes me feel less conspicuous when I get the urge in Cafe Nero! No one, absolutely no one, stares at you as if you've lost the plot.

Today I ordered (or should I say Anne ordered and I pressed the buttons!), some books from the Bodleian Bookstack, so I'm off there tomorrow to consult them at the Lower Reading Room which is, apparently at the top of the first flight of stairs.

The poetry conference at St. Anne's ended today and I've met some really interesting and superbly well-informed people. Michael Donaghy's vision for this conference was a sound one - his idea that academics and poets would have lots to say to each other is certainly one worth pursuing and he was very much there in spirit the whole weekend and always talked about with such affection by everyone.

Tonight I went to Mass with Vespers at Blackfriars and it was absolutely magical I felt so uplifted by the whole experience.

Back to writing in the lovely Corpus library tomorrow. I have come to love it there, at my own special table near the 'Horace' corner.

Went to a fascinating workshop today about the differences between versions and translations and whether poetry really is lost in translation or whether new poetry is created. What I'm doing with Horace is to recontextualise and do versions, I try not to get too caught up with trying to capture the original 'music' of the poetry or the syntax, but I try to stay true to the Horatian themes and play with the Latin lexicon. Someone put the point today, 'if it's already been written why write it again?' well, my answer would be, if it was worth saying then, it's worth saying again but in today's terms. As I said at conference, it's not the differences in culture or particular identity, or social grouping or literary peculiarities that fascinate me, but rather the sameness of the human state - the things we have in common, that drive me and make me want to bring out the wit and wisdom in Horace.

I also thoroughly enjoyed a panel chaired by Kate Clanchy about Truth, Self and the Poetic 'I' and how when women write in the 'I' it tends to be read as autobiographical whereas this does not always apply to men writing in the 'I'.

The day was rounded off with a splendid reading by Glyn Maxwell, Deryn Rees-Jones and Michael Longley - a real poetry feast.

The trouble with the last couple of days is that it's made me want to go and read lots of poets again and to look out for the ones I don't know, but I must stay focussed on Horace and of course the prospect of going back home to washing, ironing and walking the dog, plus, probably a mound of paperwork, not to mention a new project at the Museum of Antiquities and getting cracking on my PhD.

Today was the opening day of The British & Irish Contemporary Poetry Conference at St. Anne's College, Oxford. Such gatherings always fascinate me and it feels good to know that poetry is at the top of everyone's agenda. Robert Crawford's opening lecture was superb, witty and pointed and with lovely warm references to the wonderful Michael Donaghy whom I remember with such great affection from an Arvon course many years ago and from meeting him again in Newcastle. He was such a generous person with his time and always so approachable. I had an email from him about a week before he died, and I can't bear to delete it from my computer even now.

I'm very much looking forward to Michael Longley's reading tomorrow and to the paper about translation and whether it's a disadvantage to be able to read the source language. Not being a Latin reader, yet working on Horace, I hope, of course, that the conclusion (if there is one), will be yes!

I rather think that by Sunday afternoon I may well be all poetryied out.

Tickets for the poetry event held at The Youthy, which was one of the many venues for 'The Works' tour, were widely available to all and were completely free. Supplies of tickets were left at public libraries and the event was publicised. Although the Mayor herself kindly hosted the event, this was certainly not closed to anyone.

Please do feel free to come to any of my readings most of which are open to all members of the public.

Last night (having toyed with Odes 1.37 in my head for most of the day), I decided that it would be a good idea to cast Maggie Thatcher as Cleopatra. Consequently I was doing internet research about Maggie last night and got so interested, that I didn't go to bed til two this morning. Love her or hate her, Maggie is, like Cleopatra was, an absolutely remarkable woman; OK, so Maggie didn't poison herself with an Asp, but she did take the honourable way out after a long career of high and low spots. After this poem has brewed for a while I might even put it up to share.

I didn't get to meet the Oxford Poetry Stanza Rep because I wanted to meet earlier and in the event, she, having played the Good Samaritan to a lady in distress earlier in the day, was running late, so we had a longish chat on the phone instead. Maybe I'm fated not to meet anyone from the poetry scene in Oxford, except the ones who were Far From the Maddening Crowd the other night and whom I hope to meet up with again over the weekend at the St. Anne's Conference.

For some reason I've been moved to start a poem about a mythical Goth figure today, inspired by Horace's witch, Canidia in the Epodes, but more of that later.

Oh, and tonight's research with the Bulgarian Professor went very well and we've decided we might have to do some follow up.

I decided today to go and be even more involved with Corpus Christi, in other words I went to Mass at the Chaplaincy. My intention was to try and be really thankful for all these lovely things that are happening in my life at the moment and to give thanks for my time here at Corpus Christi College. In the event I also ended up praying about another body - mine! because my left heel is so painful at the moment. The fact that I'm doing so much walking isn't helping, but I'm hardly not going to walk when I'm here, so I bought some pain-killing gel the other day and, as they say, I'll just keep taking the tablets as well.

Other than working on another two odes, and trying to make sense of an ever-increasing reading list, nothing else special happened today - oh, except that I've just eaten a delicious dinner, (rounded off with one of the smoothest glasses of port ever!)in the SCR and had some very interesting conversations with visiting academics from Bulgaria and Macedonia and a young tutor from Sheffield University. Liliana is a historian from Bulgaria and we plan to visit a really old pub tomorrow night (all in the interests of her research of course). Additionally, I found myself in the middle of a fascinating discussion with a Fellow from the English Department, about Tolkein and The Lord of the Rings. I told her that try as I might, I've never been able to get into it and I'd always felt slightly guilty about that. I felt much better after my discussion with her and most of the guilt has gone!

I also plan to meet up for coffee with the Poetry Stanza rep for Oxford tomorrow afternoon so that I can give her some idea of the poetry scene in the Tees Valley and she can tell me a bit of what's happening here, so I look forward to that.

Grown-up Girls Below the Railway
(after Horace, Epode III, Parentis olim)

Grown-up Girls Below the Railway
(after Horace, Epode III, Parentis olim)

I’ve just heard of the best curse for those who don’t respect
their dads, or give them cheek,
let them eat pigs’ trotters, they taste like poison.
Foundry-men must have strong guts
because if I eat them they make me heave.
I tell you, these trotters
covered in dripping, should be in a cauldron,
or else thrown to the dogs.

You remember that night when the two-till-tens knocked off,
and Aggie, an eye on her Billy,
met him in the snug, gave him a pigs-trotter hug,
made him stink from head to foot,
then as she left to turn their bed down, caressed his shoulders,
clasped her hands round the back of Billy’s neck?
The whole of that snug smelled to high heaven,
and poor Billy with it.
You smell like Stockton Abattoir, Bill lad,
was what all his mates said.

Now Anne, if you get any ideas about my bloke,
don’t be surprised if the next day,
when you go to get your best dress from the wardrobe,
it smells like the essence of pig.

Well what an interesting night I've had at the 'Far From the Maddening Crowd' pub in Oxford.

In August I contacted the Back Room Poets who meet at the pub and arranged to go and do an open mike spot tonight, 18th September. Also, I arranged to meet up again with Angela who runs a monthly poetry event at the Beehive in Cheltenham and whom I met earlier this year at the Ledbury Poetry Festival. She drove the 45 miles to Oxford, (after also having checked the Back Room Poets website) and we got to the pub to be told by a barman that the event had been changed to next Monday. So, we decided to drown our sorrows (a very Horace thing to do I might add), by having some wine.

Naturally enough the conversation turned to poetry and we began discussing form and Angela was in the middle of telling me all about a form called decima, when a young man came and asked us if we were the Back Room Poets: we said we weren't, but we'd like to have been given half a chance, and asked him to join us. We three then chatted for a while, sharing our various poetic experiences, when a young lady came over and asked if we were the poets - we said we kind of were, but not the actual, elusive Back Room ones. She asked if we had work with us and we said we had, and offered to join her and her other four friends -end result, a very enjoyable impromptu poetry evening with readings and discussion. What a clued-up group they were too - all of them writers and some of them also published. Just the kind of small, friendly gathering of which Horace would have approved.

I read my 'Mutton at Bradford Vaults' poem and my curse poem, 'Grown-Up Girls Below the Railway', based on Horace Epode III, 'Parentis olim', (both from 'The Works'), which I've reproduced above and put in the poems section of this blog to remind me of a very pleasant night.

I bet you're thinking, 'well of course there's bells, she's in Oxford!', but not quite what I had in mind, although there was fabulous pealing last night from about seven to eight thirty; but no, these bells were at seven this morning. Now it's one thing having to throw some clothes on and gather in the street, but it's something else entirely when the others on the street when you get there, are young, slim, glamourous and suntanned without even trying and you're looking like something the cat's dragged in! Turns out there was no fire, but the alarm had been set off by a young man using rather a bit too much body spay. We're all hoping he'll hang out of the window to do his ablutions tomorrow; (not that I'd object to the burly firemen turning up again, but I would like to have the chance to put my face on first)

By the time I'd had my meeting with Professor Harrison, had great fish and chips in the SCR and went back to my room, the early bells were starting to take their toll (pun intended), so, for the first time since I came here, I went to bed this afternoon and tried to catch up with some sleep.

I was in touch by email with my supervisor at Newcastle University, Bill Herbert to tell him what I was up to, he kindly emailed back and told me to enjoy myself as well as doing some work, so I'm going to do that tomorrow when Marie comes, and get back to beloved Horace on Sunday

Yesterday I met and chatted with the incredible Robin Nisbet who is such an authority on Horace. I found it amazing that he could quote Ode numbers, which books they were from and give all the Latin titles I'm in the process of re-working Odes Book I, I'm right in the middle of it and I couldn't do that! - what a fantastic mine of information he was. Coincidentally a couple of days ago I borrowed 'A Commentary on Horace Odes, Book I' by him and Margaret Hubbard, so I was able to tell him how helpful I was finding that commentary as well as gaining his wonderful insight into Horace the man.

Actually I had a really busy day yesterday because I was interviewed by Professor Lorna Hardwick for the Living Poets Section of the archive of the Open University Reception of Classical Texts Research Project which is now starting a new phase of research on the relationship between classical texts and modern poetry in English with grant support from the British Academy.

I look forward to the day when the results of this research are on line. Their website is at
www2.open.ac.uk/ClassicalStudies/GreekPlays

I'm back looking at Ode 1.35 which is really complex, but I've managed to get a first draft and am hoping that when Professor Harrison looks at it, it won't be too far from the mark.

I went to lunchtime Mass at the Chaplaincy of St. Thomas More today to offer mass for my Mam and Dad, it would have been their wedding anniversary. Along with other significant days I always put flowers on their grave on this day every year. Knowing I'd be away, I put flowers there before I came away and prayed for them as much as I could at Mass - they were wonderful parents.

Then I went to have afternoon tea with a poet I admire very much indeed. I won't mention his name, not everyone likes their business scattered all over a blog site and I wish to respect his privacy. Suffice it to say that much of the man that comes across in his poetry is present in the character so it was wonderful meeting him, and I walked back to Corpus in a lovely warm poetry haze.

And what an emotional end to an emotional day. Brian phoned me just before seven to tell me that he'd gone and visited the grave of my parents and placed flowers there. He knows I never miss their anniversary so decided to go in my stead - it reduced me to tears when he told me and it meant such a lot. It will be our 42nd wedding anniversary shortly after I get back home. Maybe I will try and hang onto him for another 40+ years. What a wonderful act of love and respect.

I started work on my version of 1.34 today in Corpus library. In the original, Horace speaks both as a stoic and an epicurean, as an atheist and a polytheist. I love how in so few words, he makes us contemplate both sides of an argument at the same time. As a consequence he ends the ode with a view that's both practical and reflects daily doubts; daily life. He calls on his gods while he questions their existance, concluding that what happens is a result both of the gods' intervention and fate. He is, in my view, such a modern poet in his approach; asking questions, pushing buttons that make us just slightly uncomfortable.

Then, purely by accident in the SCR I heard about 'The Pelican', Corpus' magazine, so I've submitted a poem which I hope will be published in the next edition, (on Horace of course!) And finally, I found my way to the English Faculty. What a wonderfully serene and cool place this was on a hot afternoon. Probably not so serene during term time I guess - but this afternoon it was restful and I took the opportunity to acquaint myself with some of the work of Craig Raine(who incidentally comes from my part of the world), and to re-aquaint myself with some of the work of Bernard O'Donogue whose poems in 'Here nor There' I really love.

I still can't believe that I'm having this month just to read, write and think about poetry - what a rare treat this is for me. I owe so much to Professor Harrison and to everyone at Corpus for making me feel so very welcome and to Brian back home, who has only our little dog for company. I'm having a great experience here at Oxford, but I do miss him - and Brian!

And here, to prove I've done some work while I've been here, is my version of 1.34

Ode to an Agnostic Poet
(Ode 1.34)

Resentfully I pray with one eye open,
for the other has become the obsessed eye
of the poet, yet I find I’m doubling back
over old familiar ground. A coach and horses

is driven through my logic that till now
has served me well. The courses I have chosen
shake me to the core, make me unstable:
as knowledge floods my mind I’m led to hell.

This insane wisdom makes me feel quite lost:
I’m wilting in a labyrinth of learning.
The weight and breadth of all the information
is more than I can bear without God’s help.

Only he’s empowered to ring the changes,
ensure that first is last and last is first.
Chance, with one shrill cry, can snatch the ivy
from the laureate’s head to crown the little man.

Ode to Horace
(Ode 1.32)

This poem has been published in'The Pelican', also see under 'Horace' section of website at 'Ivy Poems.

I spent much of Saturday afternoon in the magnificent Ashmolean Museum and got very excited when I discovered a larger than-life size statue of Cicero, perhaps Horace would be round the next corner. He wasn't! Nevertheless, the time I spent in the museum was most enjoyable. Anyway, who needs a statue, Horace is already larger than life to me!

While I was recontextualising the Epodes and indeed while I'm recontextualising Odes Book I, I've often worried about whether I'm being creative enough, original enough; why for example, given this wonderful Oxford setting, with its history and architecture, am I not driven to write about it? Why, when sitting in the beautiful old library at Corpus, overlooking the stained glass chapel window and hearing college bells from all round the city striking every quarter hour, and really feeling a part of it all, am I bent on pursuing this old Roman poet? Truth is, he fascinates me; and the more I learn about him, the more this fascination grows.

I'm interested in contrasting the role of poetry and the poet at the time of Horace with the role of poetry and the poet now, so in between admiring the Corpus chapel window and listening to all the bells I was studying an article called 'Poet and Audience in the Augustan Age by Kenneth Quinn, and I have to say I was much heartened when I found on page 95 this comment:

'...the Roman poet makes a poem which is inspired first by his acquaintance with the poetry of other poets and then matches his poem to his own experience, or to his understanding of the story he sets out to tell'

I must remember this quote next time I doubt what I'm doing, or next time someone says, 'but aren't you just rewriting something someone's already written' because if this approach was good enough for Horace and his contemporaries, then who am I to doubt it? The point is to make it real for today, if by resetting Horace into my own worlds I manage to encourage people to engage with him, (and I have anecdotal evidence to suggest that this is the case), then that makes me happy. But it's the nature of the man that comes over to me from his poetry, his wisdom, his humour and yes, OK maybe his jealousies as well, but most of all his earthy common sense - these are the qualities that attract me. He deals with life and people around him just as they are and that's what I try to do.

I'm hoping to complete my version of Odes Book I in the not too distant future and yes they will have been inspired by becoming acquainted with the work of Horace, but they'll also be based on direct observation of self and the world around me - in this case, the poetry world around me and as Quinn nicely puts it, 'the poetry of [the most personal of Roman] poets seems to owe as much to the poetry of other poets as it owes to direct observation of the reality of self or of the human condition.'

I'm here at last at Corpus Christi and very much looking forward to concentrating on more Horace for the next three weeks or so. In fact I've just been looking at 1.32 and thinking of casting Horace as my God, to be prayed to and praised!

The NAWG Conference at Durham was wonderful and I met some lovely people. Many thanks to those who have taken the trouble to email me since the weekend, I very much apreciate your kind comments and am so glad you enjoyed my workshops. The only sad thing that happened was that I lost a very special scarf; one with sentimental attachments for me which reminded me of a lovely holiday I had with my daughter, Marie in Norway prior to her going off to university.

Must try and get back to sensible eating habits again after the wonderful menues at St. Aidan's.

The second week of the Orange Festival was terrific. Really competent and enthusiastic writers and a real pleasure to be with. In my 'Guest Writers' spot I've posted a group poem which captures Homer's Odyssey in poetry form.

Well done all of you!

I'm preparing now for tutoring on the NAWG Conference at St. Aidan's College, Durham University between 1-3 September. This is always a wonderful conference and I'm really looking forward to it. There are so many people there from different writing groups around the country. Any member of a writing group who might be reading this blog, and who hasn't yet been to an annual NAWG Writing week-end at Durham, look up NAWG on the web and contact Mike Wilson it's well worthwhile, even if you can't get on for this year.

Odyssey

Gods choose
who they let live
and who they curse with waves,
who is slaughtered by harsh water.
Gods choose.

Battle
brings the guilty
pleasure of the loot for
pirate treasure, but greed undoes
a man.

Drawn to
forbidden fruit,
its taste on all our lips,
we forget about going home,
give in.

Monster,
master of dread,
blinded by ignorance.
We flee without facing our fears;
one-eyed,

row through
festering stones
out into open sea.
Just one man knows what

The first week of the Orange Young Writers Festival has gone very well. I'm now on week two of my Odyssey with a different set of young people. We look set fair to have a really good journey with Odysseus as our guide.

Here's a quote from one of the young writers today, 'Gosh who said Homer was boring! It's all here isn't it... the greed, the jealousy, the need for adventure, searching for forbidden fruits, unrequited love, temptation. I just hope friends don't think I've lost the plot when they find me with my nose stuck in Greek mythology books'

Well if they do H. that's their loss, that's all I can say! Tell them not to knock it till they've tried it and if they want to try it, they should contact Holly at New Writing North and see if she'll let them come and join us.

Started tutoring on the Orange Young Writers Festival again, (this is my fourth year), I'm based at Darlington Arts Centre for the next two weeks and if the group today is anything to go by, we should all have a lot of fun and do some really good writing. What a bright bunch!

I'm really looking forward to the next couple of weeks. I've said it before on this website, but I think it's worth repeating, we have some fantastic young people in this country - let's hear more about such teenagers and not be so focussed on what teenagers do wrong.

I visited Ledbury Poetry Festival for the first time last week-end. From a poet's point of view, how fantastic it is to see a whole town 'dressed' in poetry, with local firms from jam factories to book shops sponsoring events and locals in pubs just accepting, in fact more than that, expecting to hear poetry and see all sorts of people sitting around reading it and writing it. Sitting in Mrs. Muffin's Tea Shop quietly working on my next Horace Ode, I was thrilled to overhear a gentleman on the next table to me say, 'Oh look, a poet at work'. Actually I was as much there for the wonderful cake as to grab a quiet bit of writing time, but hey, it was a good feeling anyway.

As well as making some new friends, (Hi Angela and Charles and Jo etc.), it was great to bump into Jane Holland (fabulous poet) who reminded me that we'd first met in Middlesbrough when she came to read over ten years ago, and also to see Anne Stewart who reminded me that our paths first crossed over ten years ago at an Arvon course at Lumb Bank and of course Colin, the 'big cheese' from Dead Good Poets in Liverpool.

Then of course there were the great and good performers themselves, (or at least some of the ones I managed to hear) Sean O'Brien, Jo Shapcott, Elaine Feinstein, Ruth Padel, Jane Duran, John Mole and the fantastic C.K. Williams. I'd recommend the Ledbury Poetry Festival to any poetry lover who hasn't been there - make the effort.

Other things keeping me out of mischief; well I'm still working on the 'Beyond the Sword Project' at Preston Hall Museum in Stockton, I'm about to do a short extension to the long residency I did at North Lodge Park, I have a fortnight tutoring again for the Orange Young Writers' Festival starting at the end of July and I will be starting a new project for New Writing North at the Museum of Antiquities in Newcastle, starting in October. All of this, plus a three week sabbatical at Oxford in September and hopefully starting a PhD attached to the University of Newcastle in the autumn, (wrapped round my beloved Horace, of course) - and I was supposed to be concentrating entirely on my writing this year! Still it keeps me from noticing just how much the house is in need of redecoration and how overgrown the bit of garden is that I was supposed to be tending.

I've also recently joined the Lit & Phil in Newcastle and spent a wonderful afternoon there a couple of weeks ago, reading through ancient work by - yes, you've guessed it, HORACE.

We had the second session of our Beyond the Sword Project today at Preston Park and today was the first time we got to handle some actual swords. Hopefully, in the next two or three weeks I'll be able to put up some poems composed by the young people. What we were concentrating on this time was the blacksmith as 'artist', rather than just the maker of useful tools and objects.

Andrew McKeown and myself inspect the sculptured leaves prior to installation.

There are three separate five-leaf sculptures, one set contains text by the communities, one set contains text by the children from Corporation Road and Reid Street Schools and one set contains text from a selection of my own poems. This leaf is just one example of the work.

Installing the leaves. The muddier side of poetry!

Well I certainly hope so having started a brand new project called 'Beyond the Sword'. I'm meeting with a group of teenagers at Preston Hall Museum on alternate Saturdays and if the first session, (held last Saturday), is anything to go by, I think there will be some excellent writing generated as part of this project. This is a very caring, very energetic group. :) The young people will also be working with a blacksmith to create a new sculpture inspired by the text and this will be put on display in the armoury section of the museum, and I'm hoping to persuade some of them to be guest writers on this site, so watch this space.

In the meantime here are some group thoughts they've had by concentrating on the sword and what is beyond the sword.

Beyond the Sword

Knight Creator
Widow maker
Life saver
Death maker
Truth seeker
Honour forger
Side splitter
Tear maker
Honour bringer
Heart breaker
Light reflector
death dancer
Edged wonder
Blood letter
Honour bringer
Bone slitter
Story teller
Gut wrencher
History maker
War starter
Slim defender
Vein cutter
Victor maker
Rank slayer
Art Carrier
Point maker.

(Group Poem)

On a personal note, I must keep believing in the idea of just how mighty the pen is, given that I hope to finish my fifth collection of poems this year. It will be my interpretation of Horace Odes Book I which, strangely enough, I've relocated into the world of writing. I hope this collection will be mighty in its own right. ;)

Here's my 'Ode to George and Tony' which is one of the works in progress referred to in my previous entry.

For Horace lovers I trust you'll get the connections, for others, I hope you enjoy the puns anyway.

Ode to George and Tony
(after Horace Ode 1.6 Scriberis Vario)

If only we had Owen or Sassoon:
such fighting poets keep an eagle eye.
They’d see two nations going it alone
and knock our bare-faced courage into line.

Tony, I’ll never claim to understand
nor try to write in praise of your success.
Our views ignored, we soldier up with George;
put mass destruction theories to the test.

But me, I’m just a mediocre poet,
I scratch out words on scraps of information.
I leave important issues to the ‘biggies’
and marvel at the topics put in motion.

Were I to try and honour you, with say
a sonnet, well it wouldn’t help a bit.
My baby-rhymes would likely undermine
your triumphs, and I’d make you look unfit.

The daily grind of husbands, wives and poets,
I’ll peck around at those, that’s more my class.
Then sometimes when I’m out and on the razzle
I’ll ditch the dead and raise a victory glass.

Last Thursday, 27 April, I took part, with Alistair Elliot, Sean O'Brien and Josephine Balmer, in a presentation called 'Ancient Verses, Modern Voices', to students and staff at the University of Durham.
It was a most enjoyable day and many thanks to Professor Edith Hall and Dr. Jennifer Ingleheart for inviting me.

I concentrated my reading on extracts from 'Oyster Baby' and 'The Works'. Many of the poems in these collections were influenced by the ancient Latin writers, Ovid and Horace.

Those of you who follow my web entries will know that I continue to work on my interpretations of Horace and I took the opportunity on Thursday to try out some of my work in progress.

It was pleasing to be told by one young man, that my renderings of Horace had really brought the work to life for him, because I do still tend to worry that maybe I move away too far from the originals for classicists to accept. Up to now, that has proved not to be the case and I continue to be much encouraged by the response I receive.

Now then, I hear you ask - what has the sword to do with all of this. Well nothing actually, except to say that I am about to embark on a project with Preston Hall Museum, (armoury section).

I will be working with what seems to be a very lively group of teenagers and we will be using the armoury as a source of inspiration for writing. The young people will then go on to work with the Artist Blacksmith and a brand new sculpture will be created using the text generated in the writing part of the project to help inform the sculpture.

So I've spent the past few days trying to get my head round different kinds of swords, (not literally!), and develop some ideas for writing. The young people have chosen the title, 'Beyond the Sword' for the project, because we want to look past the guts and gore associated with killing and consider the traditions and artistry connected with weapons as well as their original purpose.

So, from now until about mid July I will be living by the sword, let's just hope that I won't..............
you know the rest.

Off to the Lit & Phil in Newcastle next Thursday to read with Bill Herbert as part of the Poetry and Science Experiment. Public reading kicks off at 7pm if anyone is interested.

Just had a fantastic weekend at the Classical Association Conference at Newcastle University, but what a pace we worked at! There were some great papers - whoever said the classics are boring.

I read some of my Horace epodes,the ones that could be said to relate to empire, lived each day for the day and drank the wine! What a wise man Horace was, such good advice.

Now back down to earth. A backlog of emails, dirty laundry, shopping, and preparations for Easter.

My residency at North Lodge Park in Darlington ended today with the launch of our community anthology, 'Our North Lodge Park'. Originally we had intended to hold the event in the park, but the weather was so bad we switched it to Corporation Road School. (Many thanks to them for hosting this event)

This has been a very enjoyable year for me. I have made lots of friends and apart from the community anthology, a chap book of my own poems, 'Tongues in Trees' has also been published. All the proceeds from 'Tongues in Trees' will go to the Friends of North Lodge Park so that they can purchase replacement trees, (about 23 trees have been taken down during the period of my residency and I wanted to give something back to the community.)

A personal thank you to all those who've worked with me over the past year. I know the communities round the park love North Lodge Park and I hope I have helped to raise its profile over the past year.

I owe a great debt to the Friends of North Lodge Park who have been supportive throughout this project and who, yet again were there at the event today, doing the catering, listening, reading and generally being involved. I was glad to hand over a cheque for

No, I haven't dropped off the edge of the world, but I have been quite ill during the whole of January. Hopefully I'm on the mend now - mind you, they say the older you get, the longer it takes to recover!

My little chap book, 'Tongues in Trees' (that's the one where all the proceeds are going to the Friends of North Lodge Park, Darlington, so that replacement trees can be purchased), is selling rather well. We're hoping to have a big launch in the park towards the end of March, at which time the main anthology of community writing will also be published.

For those of you who are Newcastle based, I'm doing a reading at the University of Newcastle, (Percy Building) on 2nd March at lunch time. I'll try to read a couple of poems from all my collections including 'Tongues'

What I really have to do now is get back into writing mode. My fifth collection is about half completed and I'd like to think I could have it finished (and hopefully accepted for publication!) by end of August.

I've been invited to a 'do' by the Arts Council and another by an Irish Group in Leeds by way of a thank you for reviewing some poems for their latest anthology. These are two events to look forward to and hopefully they'll help get me back into the swing of things.

I'm continuing with a project for Equal Arts and hopefully starting a new one soon, based at Preston Park. 'The Works' is still bubbling, but nothing official to report as yet!

It's lovely to know that people visit the web site and read this blog. Because of finding my web page, I had an email this week from a colleague I worked with nearly twenty years ago. It was great to hear from her and to learn that she too is getting into writing.

As those of you who read this blog know, I've been talking to trees in North Lodge Park, Darlington for over a year now. At last the trees have found their tongues and are talking back. A chap book of 19 poems has now been published and is available for

It seems an absolute age since the classics conference in Oxford but when I think about it I still get a warm glow. It was a terrific weekend and I met some really great people. It was lovely for me to see The Works so well received. I've been asked to address the Classical Association next April at Newcastle University, so I look forward to that, also I believe that Professor Lorna Hardwick of Open University wants to interview me and record me reading extracts from The Works.

I borrowed a digital camera and took some photos (I think), but of course I didn't have a cable to get them up onto my blog and I've returned the camera - still you never know, some pickies might still turn up some time.

Have just come back from reading at The Bridge in Newcastle and Colpitts in Durham. Colpitts was a small but very appreciative audience (wonder anyone was there at all given that it was raining cats and dogs!). I was supposed to be having a lighter schedule during October and November, but there's no sign of it yet! Also, my biggest problem - I've changed my computer and this new, faster, improved operating system is giving me problems with my poor old dial-up email system - Think I might go back to writing letters.

Lady of the Woods,
you move on the gentlest of winds.
Children have blossomed under your branches,
skimmed your white trunk, up to the witch's knots.

Every night for sixty years
your silvery bark has glimmered in the moonlight,
fairies have bathed in its reflection.
Your rods have beaten out the playground's boundary.
You have sugared the tongues of lovers,
charmed the cots of babies
and cast away their weakness.
You have warded off evil;
been womanly and constant.

On behalf of those who are about to take you down,
I'm asking you to purify yourself with tears;
you're dying back, make way for the new.
I'm asking you out of respect
so that anger won't rise in your whipping-twigs.
You will be taken whole, nothing will be left;
no hollow silver tubes,
no writing parchment
on which to scribe these last few words
in your honour.

I'm back from a wonderful visit to Corpus Christi College, Oxford (but more about that later when Wonderman Steve, shows me how to get my pickies onto the blog)

For the last couple of weeks I've been back to talking to the trees in North Lodge Park. Apart from all the other 'official' planned outcomes from the project, I'm hoping, with support from New Writing North, to bring out a little chap book which is a special dedication to all the trees condemned during the period of my residency. I aim to sell these chap books quite cheaply and all the proceeds will go back into purchasing replacement trees for North Lodge Park - it's my way of giving something back to the community. So readers of this blog, look out for it and buy it if you can. It will make a good little Christmas stocking filler and will buy trees! (Look under the poetry category on the right for a little taster)

The other thing I've been doing is getting to grips with my scientists as part of the Poetry Experiment (see the Poetry Society Website for further details). This will culminate in an event at the Lit & Phil in Newcastle on the evening of National Poetry Day, 6th October. The process of engaging with the scientists has been fantastic, trouble is I've been so sucked in, that I've added to my already completely unachieveable reading list. Still, onwards and upwards. 88|

I'm in the middle of preparing my reading for Oxford and am very much looking forward to being there next week. It's funny though, how when I re-visit my own poems, I have to work out again what I was thinking at the time I wrote them - what particular thing(s) inspired me to write them. I'm going to read my Horace Epodes, and just hope that I'll cope with reading the ruder ones out loud without feeling too embarrassed!

I'm also working on a Science and Poetry project which culminates in an event at the Lit & Phil in Newcastle on National Poetry Day. This requires me to respond to images provided by three scientists. I've already received one image, which, I have to say was absolutely beautiful. To the right is the image supplied to me by Dr. Ashleigh Fletcher (click to enlarge). Could have been a jellyfish, could have been something from space, could have been anything! I deliberately wrote about it before trying to find out what it was and that was a great experience. I thought it was some sort of cell, but I believe now that it might be a crystal. I'm waiting to find out. As I'm always saying in this Blog - poetry takes me to wonderful places. Maybe I'll try looking into that crystal to see where I might be going next.

OK King's Manor, after all your wonderful poems on I-dentity, here's my poem, my tribute to the Cleveland Ironstone Industry and to remind us of the lovely day we had together at the University of Teesside.

1964

The rocks are silent.
Six hundred feet down,
in the lamp room,
conversation has stopped.
The bold venture of men
with mining in their blood,
has ended in a purple haze,
and one last blast.

Rivers trickle
where Cleveland ironstone flowed,
perfect as liquid.
And if you look closely,
horse-hoof tracks
will lead you back
through deep seams;
back to the hills.

I'm back for the day in King's Manor - not writing new poetry this time,but trying to have a lesson about photoshop and computers. This really does make me feel :crazy: No problem for the students,of course, they're already miles ahead, downloading pictures to match their poems, mixing, morphing etc. I'm already driving our Community Media Coordinator, Steve (University of Teesside) absolutely mad. It's times like these I really do feel as if I exist in a different universe!
Keep up the good work you King's Manor students. Let's see your poems up on the new website today, with new images you've created yourselves.

To keep you all in the university mood, I'm off down to Oxford again in September to read from 'The Works'. I'm really looking forward to it, especially since 'The Works' has just been added to the primary text on a reading list for a course being held in Oxford next academic year. What an honour.

I was right - the food at St. Aidan's was, as usual, wonderful. A few of the winning poets, Brian Lister (Biscuit Editor) and myself, shared a lovely evening, we ate a little, drank a little, read a few poems, all as a lead up to the Biscuit Challenge show on 7th July in Newcastle. So far, so good. At breakfast on the morning of the 7th, I was greeted by the news that one of our winners had been taken ill through the night and was in hospital. We had to make some quick adjustments to our arrangements for getting from Durham to Newcastle.

I went back to my room at about 9.00 am for a rest, just started to nod off when my mobile went. It was my daughter, phoning from London to tell me not to worry she was absolutely fine. I hadn't a clue what she was talking about, not having heard the horrific news from the Capital! Later, our winning poet was discharged from hospital and made it to Newcastle to read her poem - my admiration for her was enormous and the Biscuit event in Newcastle, raised well in excess of

My residency at King's Manor School finished last week - and yes, I'm still in one piece - amazing after five sessions with ten, (to say the least,) 'lively' teenagers. Thanks for your kind comments Jade, I found I was fine, so long as I had a long lie down in a darkened room after each session (hehe) ;D

I'm off to North Lodge Park in Darlington tomorrow to help celebrate the park's 102nd birthday. (I will, as usual, be talking to the trees - see what you do to your poet King's Manor! :crazy:) Apart from working in two primary schools next week presenting the school version of 'The Works', I'm off to meet up with the editor of Biscuit Publishing, Brian Lister, and some of my 'Biscuit' colleagues at St. Aidan's College Durham University. An afternoon feeding the ducks and then dinner at St. Aidan's. The food at St. Aidan's is always wonderful, so I'm really looking forward to it, then the following day, off to Newcastle for the presentation of the Biscuit Poetry Prize (for which I was the judge). July sees me tutoring on the Orange Young Writers' Festival in Newcastle, so still a very busy few weeks ahead. Can't believe we're into July already! Doesn't time fly when you're enjoying yourself? :D

Well, as those of you who are interested will see from our pictures, The Youthy in Thornaby was the last 'official' gig of The Works Tour. :( It's been a fantastic experience, especially working with a 'Sound' man and a digital artist - I've learned such a lot. A special thank you to the 'Band'.

The main point of this tour was to try and appeal to non-poetry audiences and I think we've done that. We've had big turn outs, especially at Washington and Liverpool.

I've also been 'touring' schools in the Tees Valley with a special adaptation of 'The Works', using poems to fit into the National Curriculum. Already I've visited seven schools and there are another three to do. The children have received the programme well and responded positively to it.

In the meantime, as part of my residency with North Lodge Park in Darlington, I've been selecting text and extracts from poems to go on huge metal leaves to be installed in North Lodge Park. I've never quite selected work before on the basis of whether it will fit on a leaf, but there we are - all part of a poet's life nowadays!

And now, I'm packing my sandwiches ready to go off and do my last of six sessions with some pupils at King's Manor School in Middlesbrough - teenagers - oh what joy! They've kept me on my toes alright, and what a lot of new words I've learned! I'll leave you one to conjure with, 'Mosher'

Hopefully, more about the King's Manor residency and the teenager poems later.
;D

Just four more days before the big day on Saturday. Pie, peas and poetry at The Youthy, Thornaby Road, Thornaby. Saturday, 25th June, 6.00pm Tickets are free and available from, The Youthy, Westbury Street Library, the main library, Town Centre, Thornaby or Thornaby Town hall.

Come along, this is poetry everyone understands. It's about growing up below the railway, having Head Wrightson's foundry at the bottom of the street, it's about the community of Trafalgar Street in the early 1950's.

Here's my dedication poem to The Five Lamps - enjoy!

The Five Lamps

At the top of Mandale Road,
there used to be Five Lamps.
The centre of the universe
for kids and dads and mams.

After Mass we stood and talked,
till our toes went into cramps,
at the very top of Mandale Road,
where there used to be Five Lamps.

Come summer sun or winter rain,
the Sally Army formed its ranks,
and sang their hymns in circles
round the glorious Five Lamps.

And all the kids would flock there,
the good ‘uns and the scamps,
leaping on and off and between the steps
of the glorious Five Lamps.

We licked Paleschi cornets,
we were hundreds and thousands champs
swinging round the iron post
of the glorious Five Lamps.

People used to chat and gossip,
idle a while, like tramps,
spare each other the time of day
round the glorious Five Lamps.

Each New Year’s Eve we gathered,
stayed out as late as vamps
and listened for Thornaby Town Hall Clock
from the glorious Five Lamps.

Now at the top of Mandale Road
there’s no Sally Army band.
No Scott news, no racing tips
and no glorious Five Lamps.

Now at the top of Mandale Road
no chara trips to Redcar sands
and no Paleschi’s to wet your lips
at the glorious Five Lamps.

At the top of Mandale Road,
there used to be Five Lamps.
The centre of the universe
for kids and dads and mams.

Just back from performing extracts of The Works at Dead Good Poets Society, at the Everyman Bistro in Liverpool, and I have to say, it felt like coming home! not least because Collin and a few other old friends from DGPS were there. There was a brilliant turn out. Friends I made during my long residency for Blue Coat the year before last, came to see me. Thanks Cathy, Brian and Sarah. (Good to hear that you've kept my dressing gown Cathy - you never know I might be back!)

Steve, thanks for coming straight from your holiday in Majorca to do sound, thanks Maggie for leaving your Australian visitors to come and do the visuals, Cath (DGPS)as my great host, you played a blinder bringing that pillow case to cover the pictures. And Gill, following your wonderful introduction -I hardly recognised myself.

Thank you to everyone for their warm comments about the poems and for buying the book. I must say, it felt great when one lady said she'd just buy 'The Works', because she already had a copy of Oyster Baby and Tailor Tacks which she'd bought when I guested before at DGPS, (good on you Eileen)

One of the lovely things about touring around like this, is the fantastic people you meet. On Wednesday night, after my reading a very knowledgeable young lady called Alison, told me that she'd really enjoyed by versions of Horace - that kind of comment - it makes it all worthwhile. Another man told me how much he could relate to the poems, even though the industry and community where he lived were different, the experiences were the same.

Thanks Liverpool - it was great being back!

Just one more big presentation of the show now at The Youthy, in Thornaby on Saturday, 25 June. This show has been organised by the Mayor of Thornaby, Councillor Beryl Robinson. Pie Peas and Poetry - what could be better? The event is free and tickets are available from Thornaby Town Hall, The Youthy, Westbury Street Library and the main Library in Thornaby Town Centre. Come along, this will be your last chance to see the digital version of The Works. Here's the closing poem, just to wet your appetite:

Boundary

I want to be hugged by houses
that share their walls;
close ranks on me;
be where pavements are netted
with pink hop-scotch numbers.

I want a pub or a shop on every corner,
linked by parent-footprints
and the certainty of lemon sherbet.

I want an outside loo
I know for sure
will freeze up in winter; and where
I know every spider by its first name.

I want to wake up to cold lino,
so that when I put my feet firmly on the ground,
my ears sting.

I want to run through a house,
icy as grandma’s skin;
be hit by a Mam-wall of blue gas-oven heat
in the kitchen;
have her breasts against my back;
while she struggles to put shoes and socks on my feet.

I want to know that I can’t go down further
than Ducks, (the proper tobacconist),
or up further than the billboards.

I want to know that Chapel Street is out of bounds
except on tap-dancing night.
I want to feel blistered blue paint
on the back-yard door in fading bommy light.

I want to know,
when I cross that bridge,
that everything will still be there
if I want to come back.

The Works

On your way down the wharf,
hell was on the left.

Just passing on the other side
was enough to burn your face.
Yet you crossed over,
stood on a high slab above the pit
and looked into the inferno.
There, soot-spotted men,
stripped to the waist;
glistening dangerous as leopards,
hammered white-hot bars;
until sparks spat out like sins
into the chaotic haze.

There was no point trying to talk
above the roar and clang
of men working happily in the fire
to keep the wolf from the door.
You watched for a while
until you couldn’t stand the heat,
then moved on, taking a long path
to the oil-scummed Tees.

Below the railway,
if you wanted the whole works,
it was the purgatory you went through
to walk on grass,
hold a buttercup under your throat,
float on clouds of old-man’s-oatmeal;
have a paradise of dandelions at your feet.

'The Works' tour of ten schools in the Tees Valley is finally underway. Four schools done up to now. I have had a special adaptation of 'The Works' done for schools. It contains images and pictures which the children are really enjoying; though I'm not sure they believe me when I say we had no television and in answer to their question, 'What did you do then?' I tell them about so many games and activities. They all come flooding back; T-Mack, Donkey; memories of seasons - we had top-and-whip seasons, and skipping seasons; dressing-up days as well as all the fantastic indoor winter stuff of mosaics and cut-out figures and jigsaws and French knitting on cotton bobbins - the list is endless.

The faces of the children are so funny when I tell them that in the 1950's, in Thornaby, pizza and take-aways weren't on our menu, that we'd be more likely to be eating rabbit pie, or broth made from ham bones and they find it impossible to believe that the furthest I went from home when I was small, was Scarborough and even then it took a year to save up for it.

I took a straw poll in the last class I was in and asked how many of them out of 30 had been abroad. Only one child had not been abroad. Completely the reverse of my school days!

The tour continues.... but in the meantime I've been selecting text to be placed on huge metal leaves in connection with my residency in North Lodge Park in Darlington. I didn't think I'd be quite so jittery about making the selections, but there's something very scary about picking text for a permanent art display in a public place, the responsibility comes right into focus, especially as I have to to fit it within the confines of the space provided. I kept looking at the hugh body of work that's been generated during the residency - the more I looked, the more difficult I found it to make the final selections.

Off to Liverpool next week to take the Adult version of 'The Works' to the Dead Good Poets Society at Everyman Bistro. If you're in Liverpool, come along on 15 June, 8.30 pm.

My sessions with Hartside Primary School in Crook finished last Thursday, so, while I could see a couple of days gap, I zipped off down to London to spend time with my daughter and her boyfriend and two other housemates in London. We hear so many negative comments about young people, but this weekend has strengthened my belief that this world is absolutely full of brilliant, lovely young people! OK, so the washing up and the laundry mounts up, but the warmth and interesting chat more than makes up for it.

I spent a whole afternoon at Tate Modern on Saturday and then Sunday afternoon at Tate Britain. Saw some wonderful mythology paintings by Turner. These were of particular interest, given my Ovid based poems in 'Oyster Baby' and 'The Kiss' sculpture made me so glad I'd written 'Dying Kiss', but on top of all of that I'm now convinced, thanks to Michael Craig-Martin, that a half-filled glass of water is really an oak tree. I was very taken by the accompanying text and enjoyed the two hour debate with housemates back at the house!

We tried to get onto the 'Eye' on Thursday and Saturday, but without success and finally managed it on Sunday. Fantastic, even though the heavens did open and we saw fork lightning just as our pod reached the top! I've invented a new name for the pods, Eye-Pod; try putting one of those in your top pocket and tapping along with the beat!

Back to work with Foyle Street Writers in Sunderland today. We're working on postcard poems ready for the Sunderland Waterfront Festival being held on 25 and 26 June.

As I left London yesterday, I couldn't work out which was worse, Marie and James leaving Teesside after they've visited us, or me speeding away from King's Cross, knowing that at every turn of the wheels I was moving further and further away from them. Wonder when they'll invite me back..... hmmm!:roll:

Met two wonderful Tazanian teachers at Hartside Primary School, today. They showed us how to tie kangas. What versatile things they are, these seemingly simple rectangles of cloth. They're as long as the span of your outstretched arm and wide enough to cover you from neck to knee or breast to toe.

For my part, I tied the children up with poetry by Grace Nichols :D and they made some fantastic efforts at their own versions of 'Wha Me Mudda Do', showing how versatile words are too!

There's a Tanzanian saying, 'The kanga struts in style, wear it with a smile'

Hartside struts its beat. our poetry is neat! ;D

Off to Corporation Road School and Reid Street School in Darlington tomorrow to have a quick run through of their poems in time for Poetry round the Bandstand in North Lodge Park next Wednesday, 25 May at 11 am. Come along if you're in the area and listen to some of the fantastic poems written by the children about North Lodge Park.

I also had my last formal session with Foggy Furze Writers in Hartlepool this week. I've really enjoyed being with them and I hope they continue to meet as a voluntary, independent group, and of course I continue to work with Foyle Street Writers in Sunderland. They're preparing poems for postcards ready for the Sunderland Waterfront Festival at the end of June. So busy, busy, must get off to bed now, I'm not as young as I was! :(

Well done all of Year 4 for this wonderful poem, 'Ujamu' based on the work of the Tanzanian poet, Robert Shaaban. Here we go, :D

Ujamu
(after Robert Shaaban)

Old age is a sweet thing
You can brum brum in your trolley
Old age is a sweet thing
you get thirty percent off your rail card.
Old age is a sweet thing
making your own rules.
Hey, look forward to it!

Old age is wonderful
you can sit in your rocking chair until bed time.
People come to visit you
and you don

Wonderful day today with year 3. Well done everyone. We've done our own poems based on 'Limbo' by Edward Kamau Brathwaite. :D Here they are:

In Crook

Up here things are a little bit colder
colder
colder
Up here things are a little bit colder
colder
colder.

The weather changes every day,
In Crook, in Crook
the weather changes every day,
in Crook, in Crook.

There used to be a railway
in Crook
in Crook

Rail wagons chugged along
in Crook
in Crook.

Trains used to bounce along,
bounce,
bounce
bounce.

Now cars drive around
jam
jam
jam.

There used to be a deep well
in Crook
in Crook

Grandfathers used to dig
down
down
down
deep down in the pits,
down
down
down.

Hands used to feel the wall
no sight
no sight
Hands used to feel the wall
no sight.

Pity them underground
pity them,
pity them.

black-faced miners
pity them
pity them

working hard all day long
all of them sweating hard
hot
hot work.

Go down into Crook
have a look
have a look
have a look in the market
have a look.

Dads go out of town,
seeking work
seeking work.

Lush
green
grass

where pits have overgrown.

Our School

Our school

I've spent most of today trying to teach myself some Swahili. I think my greeting says, 'Hello Friends' - well that's what it's meant to say anyway. :crazy:

I'm preparing to work in Hartside School, Crook which is twinned with a school in Tanzania. I've discovered that one of Tanzania's most famous poets was a man called Robert Shaaban, but I can't get hold of a translation of his poetry at this late stage, (except for the last poem he wrote, 'Uzee' [Old Age]which I found on the internet.

I've said it before, I'll say it again; what a wonderful thing poetry is -the places it leads you. Who'd have thought that this weekend I'd be on the east coast of Africa trying to learn Swahili! (Well in my study, surfing the net actually)

Be that as it may, during my time at Hartside we'll be looking at poetry from other cultures, trying to pick up on some rhythms different from our own. I've found a fantastic poem called 'Limbo' by a Carribbean Writer, Edward Kamau Brathwaite. I'm sure the children at Hartside will enjoy it - hope so. Karibu for now!

:oops: This is in case I've got the Swahili words wrong!

Well it's big waves to Barnard Grove Primary School. You've all been great. Thanks Mr. Leonard and all the staff who have made Gilly and myself feel so welcome. A special thanks of course, to Mrs. Tones and to the two Classroom Assistants, (three of the best here I reckon!)

To the children, thank you all so much for your hard work. I hope you enjoyed the project, even if I did knit your brains into knots at times. :D Look at the poems you've written in three weeks and be very proud of yourselves and didn't the final boxes look fabulous!

I really appreciated the flowers and your card - thank you. It was a lovely thought and I'll miss you all too. :'( Look forward to visiting the exhibition of our work early in June. Until then, take care everyone and

BIG WAVES!!!!! ;)

Today, Wednesday, 27 April, we've spent most of our time at Barnard Grove, making final choices about the poems to go into our boxes. With Gilly's help and encouragement the boxes are looking brilliant.

Having spent most of the day on the computer, arranging, rearranging, moving margins, titles and stanzas,changing font styles etc. my eyes look like this 88|
Stop laughing at me Chantelle - and yes I'm chilled now thank you!

One more session to go this Friday and we're on schedule to get everything finished. Must just mention though, as if being up to our eyeballs in shells, pebbles, claws, photos, glue, drills, poems, floppy discs, acetate etc. etc. wasn't enough, we've got the builders in refurbishing toilets!

My Version of the Matthew Arnold poem, 'Dover Beach'

The classroom is not calm today.
The poet is turning green and all rhymed out.
The artist is glued and cut out.
The teaching assistants are frazzled and wiped out,
The teacher is worn down and spaced out.
Pupils are in danger of time out! ;D

Today we spent time making individual booklets. Simple booklets, with drawings of sea creatures and just a few words to describe them in different ways. For example, a picture of a jellyfish with the words, 'Jellyfish, wobbling about in the sea', or Seahorse (a picture of a real horse with the word 'Sea' inside it and underneath, 'Seahorse, racing around in the sea'. Thanks to the wonderful Spike Milligan for the idea

We're also up to our eyes in boxes, some completed, some half made, some just started. There are still shells, pebbles, crab claws, photos, sand and all other manner of interesting objects all over the class (and that smell!!) - but we'll get there thanks to Gilly's expertise and guidance.

Think about me tomorrow, I have to run poems and extracts of poems off ready for inclusion in the boxes. Please everybody - be good - really good! so that we can get this work completed.

Meantime, as promised, here are more poems based on Matthew Arnold's 'Dover Beach' (but ours is Headland Beach - obviously!) :D

Just wanted to share this thought with you. Do you know why young children have so much energy? Because they suck it from us adults during the day when we're not looking. I bet they're all either watching telly or playing games while I'm sitting here typing their poems :roll: That's why I'm off to bed right now!

As our part of the Sea Britain project (Tidal Words), I decided to focus on the idea of edges today. It really is very special being an island people - a people surrounded completely by water, it makes the sea tremendously significant in our lives. What it means, in effect, is that no matter which direction we travel we will, sooner or later, come to the edge - the sea. This can be frightening and exciting. It's these ideas that the children have tried to capture in their poems today. We used Matthew Arnold's poem, 'Dover Beach' as inspiration for our writing. Well done everybody. A few more to follow on this theme, probably tomorrow.

PS our classroom stinks of crab claws, shells and pebbles, despite Gilly triple washing everything over the weekend. No problems using that one of our five senses!

Well, we finally made it to Headland Beach last Friday! :D Given our experience with the weather over the past week or so I put on my warmest anorak and yes, you've guessed it, I was too hot! Friday was glorious. We collected rope and shells, crab claws and stones, bits of driftwood and seacoal. If I hear myself one more time, saying, 'Jodie, come away from the edge', I'm going to scream. Actually, thinking about it, I could have done with having eight arms, a bit like an octopus, (or is that legs they have ... never mind, you know what I mean. Eight arms to stretch in several directions, over long distances, would have been really good last Friday, to keep my group in my sights. :crazy: I must say that Michael (our litter picker), Katie, Evan and Carly were really grown up and mature, and OK Jodie, you weren't too bad I suppose!

Gilly took photographs and she's taken all our stinky trophies home to wash over the weekend, (some people get all the best jobs - well done Gilly) We should have plenty to put into our boxes and I look forward to seeing them finished. As well as the things we collected from the beach, each box will have a poem or part of a poem written during this project.

Last week of the project next week girls and boys - let's make a really good effort to do our best writing and produce some fabulous boxes.

Today, Wednesday, we imagined people we love as sea creatures.I'm just going to let these couple of poems speak for themselves.

And wasn't it great to have the Head sharing our work on this web blog today, (Wednesday, 20th April). Thanks Mr. Leonard, hope you didn't cry that much that you made another sea.

What a day we had at Barnard Grove on Monday. We looked at a poem by Colin McNaughton, called 'I'm Talking Big' and then had great fun converting it to a poem about 'Talking Sea'.

Absolutely everyone did brilliantly with this one! Wish I could put them all up, but a person needs her rest sometimes you know, even if the answer to 'You wouldn't want me to be up all night typing would you? is a resounding yes! (Glad to see you all care so much about me! :roll: )

So, here's two poems, but well done everybody - they were all great on this theme.

Should be plenty of writing to put into the boxes you're all making with Gilly. Beach on Friday, yeah!!

It's Monday, 18 April and yet again here at Barnard Grove Primary School, we've had to cancel our beach visit because of the weather. Still living in hopes for this Friday coming!

The good news: I've got permission to publish some of the children's poems on this site, so, look out for Sara's Poem and here is our class poem 'Beach Buoys' written to the rhythm of my own Boro Babe poem which the children love. Well done to the whole of Class 9! You worked hard on this poem:

Beach Buoys
(after Boro Babe, by Maureen Almond)

We've got, salt in our hair and, rough sea,
sand in our shoes and, big waves,
ships in our bones and a, fish tea.
We're the beach buoys.

We've got, sand in our socks and the, Headland,
huge, white waves and, big fret,
big, scary sharks and, mermaids.
We're the beach buoys.

We've got, old, crabby gulls and, ice cream,
a tall lighthouse with a, bright beam,
sharp, electric eels and, seaweed.
We're the beach buoys.

We've got, boats and a dock and, candyfloss,
a bright, blue bucket full of, starfish,
a cool sea front and, salty rocks.
We're the beach buoys.

We've got, everything you'd want from a, sea town,
yes everything you'd want from a, sea town.
We're the beach buoys. :D

Keep watching this space - more to follow!

Well we were beached on Friday, or should I say we weren't beached and that was the problem!

My fellow artist Gilly Rodgers and me were due to take a class of Barnard Grove Primary School children to the beach yesterday, (part of the Tidal Words Project), but the rain was like stair rods (as my grandma used to say), so, having planned exactly what we would do, what we would look for, what items we might try and gather to make story/poem boxes, we had to cancel at the last minute. Let me set the scene: a coach standing by, no other definite lesson planned, 28 excited kids :'( that's it, you've got it!

Anyway, we set to and made sea fortune cookies and wrote a group poem called 'Beach Buoys', which is all about what it's like living in Hartlepool. I'd love to put this poem up here, but haven't as yet, got permission from the school. The children, despite their disappointment, worked really hard. Watch this space, if I can,I'll put their group poem up soon. ;)

I'm off for a night out with the boys -do you know how long I've wanted to say that to my husband! well I finally got the chance last Thursday :D

As part of my North Lodge Park residency in Darlington I decided to visit the Boys Brigade, (my grateful thanks by the way, to Peter Waistrell, for allowing me to do this)

What a fantastic group of lads they are. When you meet young men like this it makes you feel so happy, because young people get such bad press - but these lads, they were great and they didn't even know in advance that I was coming.

I wanted them to share their views and feelings about what it's like being a teenage boy right here and now in this area of Darlington. They wrote some great poems. (I might put one or two up here later if I get their permissions)

Peter tells me that this Company was the first in Darlington and that it's been running for over ninety years.

My night started off by watching the young 'Anchor Boys' in their bright red jumpers, running around and playing with a parachute. But it was the Company Section and the Senior Section, the boys in blue, I worked with on Thursday - thanks lads. You were great.

My second session with Barnard Grove School started off quite well this morning. Taken with the idea of our impending visit to the Headland Beach on Friday coming, one little girl brought in some shells to show me, 'all the way from the Indian Ocean' she said. They were pretty I must admit, and very unusual. I was so thrilled to think that she had gone home and talked about what we'd done on Monday.

Then another girl came in and said, 'my dad was checking up on your website last night' not sure what conclusions 'dad' drew if any, but good to hear that parents are taking a real interest.

So far, so good you might say. Then it came to this afternoon. We went over to the IT suite to type up poems about Hartlepool which they'd written this morning. A young lad tried to 'help' me to help another pupil, but he was telling me things I already knew. Now, I know so little about computers, that when I do know things, well I get a bit pleased with myself, so I said , yes I know that darling, thank you. He looked at me - one of those long lingering looks that you know is just going to be followed up by something smart and he said, 'you're not dumb you are you' he left a gap, just long enough for me to feel dead chuffed with myself, then added, 'you're old, but you're not dumb' Having seen the reflection of this crinkled 'shell' in the mirror this morning,:( I had to agree with him, I had no choice, but I drew the line at answering his next question, 'how old are you anyway'. There are some questions a girl just doesn't want to answer.

We're all getting excited about our beach visit, which is coming up this Friday. Watch out for those white horses lad.

I've had my first session at Barnard Grove School in Hartlepool. This is part of the Sea Britain project, (here in the North East it's called Tidal Words) - anyway, as I was saying I had my first session on Monday.

After the usual introductions about who I am, what poets do and trying to convince the children that I'm not incredibly rich, we got to creating our own sea dictionaries. I was encouraging them to think of sea words with double meanings. I gave them 'anchor'. Obviously they knew about ships' anchors, but I was looking for something else - somthing to do with being held down, stable, other such poetic stuff when one little wag put his hand up, 'I know one', he said, 'could it mean buttery and spreadable?'

It's such a treat working with children.
Roll on tomorrow.

I'm not having a very good couple of days. My webmaster has put my Ode to Pope John Paul on my site and it seems all of you can read it, but it won't come up on my computer! and yesterday I had two meetings, one was like stepping back into the past, the second, well it's a world I don't understand - more later.

Firstly the past: I spent a really interesting couple of hours with Brian Barker at Teesside Uni where we viewed lots of old film from the Uni archive. Mostly I'm researching so that I can construct some interesting writing workshops for some students at King's Manor School in Middlesbrough and the Uni has some wonderful old film about Teesside life. But of course I'm always interested in Thornaby and was in my element looking at old film about the railway station, plus proper trains with STEAM!!

Now the world I don't understand. Apart from the frustration of a missing poem from my website, the time I spent yesterday with Steve Thompson, also of Teesside Uni, (you all know him, 'Digital Man', 'Blog Man', 'Song Writer', 'Computer Guru' he's all of those things as well as a brilliant 'sound man', almost pushed me completely over the edge. I had to listen to him telling me to 'hold my control' then 'refresh myself', (believe you me, 'fresh' was the last thing I felt), then, to add insult to injury, he set up a little camera on his desk thatlooked like a space alien with a large head and three skinny legs. He didn't tell me about this, but recorded all my confusion about websites, e-mails, blogs, radio blogs, frames that are frames, but only sometimes, then played it all back to me! Mind you, I forgive him because he's produced a lovely CD of me reading poems from 'The Works' and he's put a soundtrack underneath which sounds really good.

I won't even bother to tell you about the interruption we got from a 'Radio Sculptor' in the middle of all this techie stuff - and that's another thing - I've just tried to include the confused 'smiley' to add to this note and it's coming out like this :-/ See what I mean, everything technical I touch turns to rubbish. Still my poet colleague in Oxford has received my hands and has decided to use them with an extract of poem I sent him - so that's good. Anyway, I've decided to give you a poem here on my blog.
Seeing the old film of Thornaby Railway Station yesterday reminded me of one of my poems from 'The Works', just opposite what's now the Student Union Bar and overlooking Thornaby Railway Station was:

The Kissing Place

an erogenous zone
at the nape of a narrow-neck bridge
on the other side of the tracks.

There, pressed up against brick
hard on my back,
the tunnel of his mouth round mine,
I'm steaming

way beyong Redcar,
past Saltburn,
past everything my parents know,
out to sea
to a foreign place I've never been before
past the ear-splitting shuggy-boat swings;
beyond donkey sweat
and candy-floss stickiness.

- out of Punch's reach
jumping from baby-teeth street
straight into the crocodile's mouth -
that's the way to do it.

Yes, that's the way to do it girl,
that's the way to do it.

Right, I've just posted off six photocopies of my left hand to a poet friend, Sean Burn. He's doing a text/visual/sound/performance piece based loosely on the Universal Charter for Human Rights, (why did he want my left I wonder!) Anyway, that's the kind of thing us poets do for/to each other.

Other than another couple of meetings with the 'Friends of North Lodge Park' and trying to encourage them to be as mad as me and write about holly leaves as if were elf shoes, I've not been rushing around too much this last week - good job, because the labrinthytis has flared up again, so I'm dizzy in every sense of the word.

As I say, I'm back to pondering the sea and it got me to thinking about why some beaches have sand and some don't. The only conclusion I've come up with is that some beaches are older than others, so the waves have had a longer time to move the particles back and forth and make them into smooth sand. If anybody knows any other explanation post it below, I'd be grateful.

I'm back with my Foggy Furzers on Monday night and also meeting up with Stuart and Alex who're doing a special adaptation of 'The Works' book for me to take into schools. (i.e. a version with the rude poems taken out), though it will include ones about old fashioned Fairy soap, poss tubs and days of no telly. Kids in school now don't believe you when you talk of days when there was no electricity. Oh but I remember them so well. The gentle hiss of the gas mantle; hand figures on the wall in the flickering light of a real coal fire; a big mug of Ovaltine.... sorry, where was I....

Back to reality and the sad news that The Pope died at half past eight this evening. I wrote an Ode about him just a few months ago, it hasn't been submitted or published anywere, what a shame. He was a lovely man and I'm sure he was more than prepared for this, his final journey.

As I said, a rich and varied life! This week I've been back working on my North Lodge Park residency in Darlington; literally talking to trees, or at least trying to get them talking to me. I'm also trying to collect memories of North Lodge Park, from residents of the area, and that's how I ended up at the Assembly of God Luncheon Club last Thursday! (Beautifully cooked chicken, proper cabbage and fabulous mash, followed by real rice pudding with a dollop of raspberry jam)

What a great crowd and such a warm welcome. I got step-by-step instructions of how to play mount-a-kitty, as well as stories of the railings being taken down in aid of the war effort. They brought the park alive with the sounds of the Salvation Army Band. As to the antics they got up to in the air raid shelter (now buried under a mound of crocuses), well I think I'll need a return visit to get that whole story! But the poems that come from their musings could prove interesting, and could well be included in the anthology of North Lodge Park, which I'll be pulling together later this year.

Don't forget, if there are any Thornaby-ites reading this blog, (actually you don't have to be from Thornaby to enjoy it), my latest collection, 'The Works' is all about life below the railway - about the pubs, chip-shops, characters and crises of hard men, feisty women and the adolescent agonies of children in Trafalgar Street, and is available from Biscuit Publishing (see my website)

Back to thoughts of the sea next week, in preparation for work in Barnard Grove Primary School in Hartlepool as part of the Sea Britain Project.

But right now, it's Easter Egg time! Yeah!

I'm just back from the Bridlington launch of Mike Wilson's book, 'Full Fathom Five', which chronicles the life of a local hero, Kit Brown.

Mike took me to Flamborough Head, (we were supposed to be going up into the lighthouse, but it was closed to the public when we got there. Typical of my luck - a chance to be flashy and I miss it!) Anyway, the skylarks were in good song and gulls sparkled in the sunlight over the sea, so it was worth it. (In this year of Sea Britain, do I perhaps feel a poem coming on?)

Back at our hotel we found four young people spilling down the steps. South African they were, (the people, not the steps), and I think one of them had just been introduced to the idea of a 'mild evening', because he kept repeating the phrase to us, inviting us to say it too. I suspect it was another kind of 'mild' that had made him so friendly. He, along with his mate, wandered across the road and down towards the sea. We didn't see them again. One of their wives wished us happy birthday, so being typically British, we wished her happy birthday back. Mike introduced me as a 'famous poet', (if only!) and happy-birthday girl's friend said, 'Oh yeah! and I'm Rohl Darl'. They asked if we wrote about sex, drugs and rock and roll. My publisher, Brian and Mike's wife, Diane, creased up, while pathetically, Mike and I trawled our brains, trying to prove we did. I quoted 'The KIssing Place' from my latest collection, but they weren't impressed and wandered off towards the beach muttering, 'happy birthday.... sex, drugs and rock and roll, that's what we need'. Well don't we all! But we settled for a

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