Hi Geraldine,

Yes, very disappointing. I went to hear four poets read and ended up only
hearing three of them because the programme started 45mins late meaning that
I would have missed the last train home. Still haven't heard Tom Raworth
read, which was one of my main reasons for being there. You did a sterling
job, as did Alan. First time I have heard either of you read and well worth
it. Linda France was better than I expected. Linda is the lecturer, the
others were students on the MA course. Kostas should never be allowed near a
microphone, even a badly set-up one like that. Kevin wasn't as bad as I
expected. Agree about Mr Hegley (nuff said).
Joanna and I only just made the last train to Darlington and I almost, but
not quite, had the feeling of a wasted evening. If Connie could organise a
pissup in a brewery and get shot of her pet Greek things might go better
next time.

Best
Roger, back in his Cumbrian garret.


----- Original Message -----
From: "Geraldine Monk" <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Saturday, June 19, 2004 1:03 AM
Subject: BIRTHDAY FIZZLE


Just a note on the Morden Tower Birthday Bash.
It's not often I write a relatively negative review of an event - if it
doesn't 'happen' I'd rather just forget about it in the full knowledge that
it's not a permanent state of affairs so not much point raising the
mercury-blood flow to the brain. But I really felt that such a legendary
place as Morden Tower should have been given a better show than this - it
should have been wild and joyous. A true celebration of a unique venue.

The last minute change of venue was due to the Opera House closing down
(like they do I suppose when the are reduced to putting on poetry
readings!). Anyway - that was nobody's fault and the room in the Royal
Central Station Hotel was quite magnificent. But more wedding reception
than birthday disco. Round tables with virginal white table clothes the
size of planets - the kind you have to sign language to those sitting
opposite .

Due to a contingent of lecturers at Newcastle University reading there was a
healthy contingent of students. But where were the Morden stalwarts?

The reading programme was not well designed. A mixture of comic and not-so
trying to vie with the mood just set up by the last reader. John Hegley -
oh should I mention him - oh well - I will because I'm a generous listener
to all types of poetry but fer fooks sake I wanted to clock him one. I
know, I know, I'm a pacifist but it never stops the desire to clock an
arrogant and talentless shithead whose ad-libbing was aggressive and his
general attitude to the audience hostile.

Wherever did he get the big idea that his endless silly shallow rhyme-upon-
fatuous-rhyme entitles him to such self-satisfied arrogance. Grrrr. He
was, of course, too bloody grand-by-half to sit with the rest of the poets
or to stay around and hear anyone else read. What a pompous little one-man
goon show. Of course the audience loved him!!!! And I was sooo down.

Anyone who knows me knows I love humour in fact the first line of one of my
poems is 'A world without humour cannot be serious' - but Hegley was
unadulterated dross. I must be missing the point of him. What is the point
of him?

Apart from him all the other poets (or should I say the others were poets)
gave worthy performances but it was hard to gather a momentum and crash over
into inspired. Bill Griffiths did a lovely Bloomsday around Newcastle poem
(not the title which I can't bring to mind). Why isn't Bill more lauded
than he is? It is a constant puzzle to me. Michael Horovitz was his old
irrepressible self. It's hard to believe how old he is - he's actually
looking younger (sold his soul to the devil years ago I'll bet) with the
enthusiasm of a restless teenager. Linda France (a poet I don't know) read
an hilarious poem around and about Delilah Smith, Alan Halsey read some of
his Lives of the Poets but subtle wit after a lot of in-yer-face straight
funnies was never going to come across - I just wanted to gather him up and
take him home - still he sold a copy - so someone must have been taking it
in. I read some of my Marian Poems and expressed sadness that Maggie O
Sulliivan couldn't make it (we first read at Morden together - whaddanight
that was!) - and wondered with a sinking feeling if anyone had ever heard of
Maggie - or me. Or cared. Tom Raworth valiantly finished the night off to
a dwindled crowd and then we went back to our hotel. The three of us alone
and tired out hungry and not exactly elated.

I did find a stalwart before I left. They had turned up to the Opera House
but with no notice to forward people on (I'm sorry but I find this deeply
disgusting - if one thing gets my goat more than bad treatment of poets it's
bad treatment of the audience - we would not be there but for them) - they
then legged it up to Morden Tower - nothing - and finally - I suppose - rang
a friend - I was so indignant I didn't take in the solution. So that's why
no familiar faces were about. And the drive back down the A1 took 10
centuries with every juggernaut in the world jinking about like loonies -
don't they have driving tests anymore?

Oh - it wasn't all doom and gloom but it could have been better - much
better.
Any thoughts on this Roger?

Fer now mi dearies,
G.