Stones and Snowdrops

What a weekend of poetry I have had!  In addition to my monthly Poetic Licence workshop on Sunday, Friday was the annual Voices In The City Day at Bath Central Library, part of Bath Festival of Literature and always a highly enjoyable occasion.  Then, on Saturday I went to Avebury with Hazel Hammond to take part in a workshop run by poets Jo Bell (a former archaeologist) and Martin Malone.  

We arrived in Avebury with snow falling, which was ironic given that the original workshop focusing on the stones had to be postponed in January because of feet of the stuff lying on the ground.  This time it was as fine as grains of salt, however, and didn't pitch. The wind still had a set of sharp teeth, however. 

First off was a tour of the site.  Avebury is a strange place. Unlike Stonehenge, where the stones stand in magnificent isolation, the village has encroached on the henge and despite the original archaeologist, Alexander Keiller, and the National Trust taking it upon themselves to demolish part of village, the better to show off the stones, there's still an odd sense of the unfathomable hugger-mugger with bricked and tiled domesticity.  I love the majesty of Stonehenge, but also adore the very clear impression of historical layers you get at Avebury.  

And of course you can still get close enough to read the lichen maps covering the sarsen stone.

After a while we began to turn to stone, so we adjourned to the cosy National Trust study centre for tea, chocolate biscuits and some stimulating writing exercises about our own personal landscapes.  

After lunch in the cafe, Hazel and I visited the museums, Avebury Manor and the Church of St James.  The rooms of the Manor were disappointing, having been done up like sets from different eras for a BBC television programme with Penelope Keith in it.  I suppose that every National Trust interior, with the exception of somewhere like Mr Straw's House which has retained all of its chattels, is to a certain extent fake, but this was flimsy and hollow fakery.  There was no sense at all of its history, no trace of who once lived there.  Boo!  Though at least there are none of those teasels and kids can jump on the beds.

The Church of St James is built very close to the stones, reputedly to counteract their supposed malevolence.  (I think we're straying into Marianne Dreams territory here).  For me, the its jewel was the Norman tub font, designed for total immersion and  carved with a bishop carrying a crozier and two serpents. 

Outside, the sun had come out and there were nebulae on the gravestones,

not to mention to mention snowdrops and sunshine. Time to stop hibernating. 

Culture Vulturing

It's been a great few weeks for getting out and about and soaking up a bit of culchurr.  In addition to King Lear, I've seen a second local panto (with my Art Critic for filtonvoice hat on), Elmfield School for Deaf Children's wonderful Musical 'Around the World with Elmfield', and a startlingly good production of 'Spring Awakening - The Musical' (now who'd a-thought?!) at my son's college.  For a lad who once played the part of an aphid in his primary school play, my boy shone and I was really proud of him and his lovely singing voice. And there's another of my university set texts on at the Tobacco Factory next month, namely, Chekhov's The Cherry Orchard, which I'm really looking forward to.  

I've also been to Cardiff to see an exhibition of work by John Piper and David Jones, and am savouring the prospect of another featuring work by Eric Ravilious at the RWA.  Tomorrow night - or rather, later today - I'm attending a free lecture at Bristol University by Al Alvarez, with poetry readings by Edward Lucie Smith, Tom Raworth and John Fuller.

This afternoon saw my final poetry reading in a series of five over four weeks.  (In fact, I think that constitutes a tour!)  I was guest poet at Can Openers in the Bristol Old Vic at the beginning of the month, I read five poems as part of Voices in the City at Bath Literature Festival, and also did three smaller gigs, finishing today with a joint reading for International Women's Day with Hazel Hammond at Filton Library.  Our poems were accompanied by photos by Alison Wills. I enjoyed collaborating with Hazel and Alison - our work dovetailed nicely and it almost felt more like having a conversation with friends rather than reading our work.  And unlike at Can Openers, this time I didn't forget to take my poems with me!  

I'll be reading again in Bath next month as part of the Poetry Cafe's Bloodaxe Day, and later in the year at the Acumen evening and the portraitswest project respectively.  I also hope to venture further afield to read in Bradford on Avon in due course.  

And then there's the Bristol Spring Poetry Festival coming up in a few weeks.  Hooray for poetry and Poetry Can!!

Photos of me with Hazel Hammond, and my mother and two of her sisters by Dru Marland.