I think I may be having too much fun. Perhaps it’s to do with the weather. Now that it looks as if summer is actually upon us, aside from today’s torrential rain, I think I feel as if I’m on holiday. I’ve spent too much time catching up with old friends and perhaps not enough time working, although when you write poetry it’s hard to draw the line between your personal life and work; the two become so intertwined, and without the personal there would certainly be no poetry. I regard my friends and family as vital to my creative life, for material, to be my all-purpose muses. Nobody seems to mind too much. So far.

 

I did go to the Oxfam poetry reading last week. Great poetry and for a good cause. It takes place in the bookshop on Marylebone High Street in the Oxfam bookshop and those readings are always packed. Seven excellent poets with varied styles and approaches. I particularly enjoyed hearing Helen Dunmore who’s sicja relaxed and engaging reader. I’ve read nearly all her novels, so was slightly starstruck. And of course at these events it’s always possible to get to say hello to the writers. Which I did. And she apologised to me because she had to leave in the interval having done her bit. Helen Dunmore apologised to me (!). Hmmm. Of course as ever there were plenty of people in the audience who I knew. I should never have had that glass of red wine at the start though. Made me feel a bit muzzy. It’s always hard maintaining concentration in a poetry reading, and you kind of need all your wits about you. But I rallied and I listened and it was just wonderful.

 

Actually I had an interesting debate with another poet the other night about whether it’s worth having readings at all; he feels it’s better to engage with a poem on the page, one to one and have time with it. Of course that’s an important experience, but poetry is also about music and the music of poetry can be best heard if it’s read out loud. Obviously. Recently I heard Lavinia Greenlaw read one of Sylvia Plath’s poems and it just sang. The more I write, the more importance I place on the sound of a poem, how it feels in the mouth and ears. I know that not all contemporary poets dwell on that, but I do. I do!

 

Otherwise all’s well. I have spring in my step and music in my ipod which can now connect straight into my car radio. Miraculous. Brilliant.