Apr 28

Chapter 3

The rural village of Stockton, population twenty-four hundred, was…
“Is that an iPad?”
No it’s an e-reader.
“Right.”
The rural village of Stockton, population twenty-four hundred, was…
“So it’s different to an iPad then?”
Yes, it’s just for reading books.
“Like one of those Kindles?”
It is a Kindle.
“Right.”
Chapter 3. The rural village of Stockton, population twenty-four hundred, was…
“So which is better a book or a Kindle?”
A book.
“Really? Why’s that?”
Everyone knows what a book is.
“Right.”
I close my Kindle and stare out at the wing of the plane cutting through the clouds.

I know it’s only a half hour flight to Norwich from Amsterdam, but somehow it was already feeling like a lifetime.

 

Apr 24

Copenhagen Day 3

The guy dressed as a Viking coaxing hungry tourists into the Viking Steak House should have put me off. But sometimes a slab of meat is all a man wants when he’s alone and hungry in a big city. That and a beer.

Inside the TV was playing Julio Iglesias with the menu scrolling across the screen like some culinary news ticker. Gosh did you see that? A ribeye steak for under 200 Krona?

“I work a five/two shift,” the waiter randomly informs me. It appears I inadvertidly engaged him in conversation about whether or not it was busy for a Tuesday.

“It means one week I work five days and the next week I work two days.”

That must be great the week you only do two days, I chip in merrily.

“I like it like this. All the shifts are twelve hours, so that’s… How you say in English? Hard shit?”
Erm, yes, we probably would. Any chance of a glass of Danish beer?

“This week I do five days. Five days of twelve hours. Hard…”

Julio has been replaced by Neil Diamond singing depressing version of ‘I’m A Believer’ and I start to wish I’d asked for my steak to be rare not medium.

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Apr 23

Copenhagen day 2

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I spoke to the man at lastminute.com. Apparently it wasn’t their fault. He also suggested that fifty minutes is ample time to transfer on the journey back and that if I don’t believe him then I can pay £95 plus the extra cost on the ticket to change my flight.

Meanwhile in Copenhagen, I’ve only been here twenty four hours and just like Hans Christian Anderson, I have the urge to write about little people.

I must say the Little Mermaid is bigger than I expected but much further away than I’d planned for. I seemed to be walking forever. But eventually there she was sat on a rock at the water’s edge covered in tourists.

Earlier a woman with a pushchair asked me if I could help her down some steps. “Sure, which ones?” I asked. “Well these here would be useful,” she replied. I’m sure it was full of Argos catalogues.

Finally to the Shanghai Resturant where I was presented with the key for the gentlemen’s toilet. It was about twenty times bigger than a Jim’ll Fix It gong with the word ‘Toilet’ engraved on it in huge letters just in case anyone was in doubt about where I was heading.

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Apr 22

Wonderful Copenhagen

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I can recall missing the odd bus. I’ve even missed the train a couple of times. I’ve missed appointments and I’ve even missed birthdays and anniversaries. Today I can add a plane to the list.

I knew they day didn’t bode well when my 7.30 taxi driver told me about his Brother-In-Law’s kidney stones and the recent death of two close friends.

The security guy at Norwich Airport wasn’t much better, regaling me with the details of train crash in Amsterdam.

And then at Amsterdam Airport I managed to miss my connecting flight by five minutes. “I can’t believe they booked you on these two flights – there’s no way you’d make your connection,” I was told helpfully.

“It’s clearly not my fault,” I replied.

“Well lets just say it wasn’t anyone’s fault,” said the helpful KML rep.

So I was put on standby for the next flight.

Fortunately some idiot missed their connection so I got their seat and here I am in Copenhagen.

Is a throbbing head and heartburn a symptom of kidney stones?

Aug 28

Charlie was camped at somebody else’s table making farting noises with his mouth

Charlie was lying screaming on the luggage rack at the end of the carriage showing no signs of moving.

Charlie’s mother was sat a couple of seats from me with Charlie’s sister, who was bouncing up and down on her seat with no sign of ending her impersonation of an off key dog whistle.

Behind me was an elderly woman in tears with the Train Manager who had just broken the news to her that her ticket wasn’t valid and despite her desperate plea that she ‘just wanted to go home’ showed no sign of letting her get away with the penalty charge for travelling three hours early.

In fact the only sign of anything on the 12.00 National Express East Anglia train from Norwich to London was the one on the window stating that this was the Quiet Coach.

Charlie was now running up and down the carriage brandishing a bottle of Lucozade Sport and shouting ‘Granddad’ at the top of his voice. I feared that one of them would explode and take us all out.

Eventually Granddad appeared with Charlie’s younger brother. Yes, there were more of them.

They’d apparently been waiting in the wings between Coaches B and C but now it was their cue to enter and entertain us with some synchronised wailing.

A guy in the next seat to me got up and for just a moment I hoped he was going to put somebody’s lights out – anybodies, even mine would be good. But no, he gathered all his belongings and set off in search of a quieter coach than the Quiet Coach.

Granddad eventually tried to take control and retrieved Charlie, who was now camped at somebody else’s table making farting noises with his mouth. Granddad sat the two brothers with their sister and the mother before leaving the carriage.

“Now’ve you’ve gone and upset your Granddad. If the three of you don’t shut up I’ll bloody go and all.Then what’ll happen to you?”

The three children looked round the carriage and peered into the eyes of their fellow Quiet Coach passengers.

Apart from a nervous cough from Charlie, we didn’t hear another peek out of them.

While all this was happening in front of me, the crying woman behind had sobbed so much, the Ticket Collector had delivered the classic, “there’s no need to be rude to me”, line before disappearing never to be seen again.

Like my fellow passenger and Charlie’s Granddad, he knew when to quit and I admire them all for it.

 

 

Aug 07

Horsey Waterpump, Norfolk

Horsey Waterpump, NorfolkHorsey Waterpump, NorfolkHorsey Waterpump, NorfolkHorsey Waterpump, NorfolkHorsey Waterpump, NorfolkHorsey Waterpump, Norfolk

Horsey Waterpump, Norfolk, a set on Flickr.

There’s been a wind pump on this site for over 200 years.

The current incarnation was built in the 1920s and was acquired by the National Trust in 1948, five years after it stopped working due to a lightening strike.

 

 

Aug 06

Newcastle – another fine city

Baltic in Gateshead through the Millennium Bridge

Take a piece of paper and divide it into two columns – Pros and Cons. Then write down all the things you think you know about Newcastle and put them in the appropriate column. Allow yourself five minutes.

Now pick up that piece of paper and carefully rip it into as many pieces as possible and place in the nearest bin.

Next, and this is the really amazing part, buy a train ticket to Newcastle and discover that it is actually a friendly, vibrant, creative city and none of your preconceived ideas were based on fact.

There are some fantastic places to shop – Fenwick’s Food Hall being the star, with Grainger Market and Eldon Square also worthy of a mention.

The Sunday morning market along the Quayside is a great place to spend an hour or so, although if it’s markets you are really after then a twenty minute Metro trip to Tynemouth on a Saturday or Sunday is essential.

For culture you only need to pop over the Millennium Bridge into Gateshead and visit The Baltic. It’s a free gallery of contemporary art and if there’s nothing on that takes your fancy, a lift ride up to the viewing terrace will have your camera phones clicking.

Shoe Tree in Armstrong Park, Newcastle

If you have some time to spare take in Armstrong Park. It has a Pet Cemetery and, more strangely, a shoe tree.

But Newcastle isn’t about the trains or the buildings or the shopping or the food. It’s about the people. Yes they know how to party, but their warmth and friendliness far outweighs the slippy Sunday morning pavements.

They make apologies for it, in fact they as far as warning you in advance, “we get a lot of stag and hen parties in the hotel, so if it get noisy ring down and we’ll sort it straight away”, we were told by the helpful hotel receptionist. I almost felt cheated that I had an uninterrupted night’s sleep.

I heard a lot of things that amused me while in Newcastle, but this short conversation between two young women exiting the toilets in Eldon Square was typical.

Woman 1 – You can can weigh yourself, right, eat ten pounds of chicken then weight yourself again. But you haven’t put on ten pounds.

Woman 2 – I’ve never understood that.

 

 

Jul 23

The Poetry Society EGM

I attended yesterday’s Poetry Society’s EGM with a fairly open mind. I knew that a Vote of No Confidence was on the cards and that certain corners of the Society were calling for blood.

But I wanted to make up my own mind.

It didn’t take me long as the Board exposed a series of shortcomings that had led to a number of resignations and left me in no doubt that they couldn’t organise a stanza in a poetry class.

I don’t think any of them were surprised by the welcome they received as a group of campaigners within the Society, called the Requisitioners, had already made their feelings known.

So when the vote came, the result – 306 against 69 – certainly reflected the mood of the room. But the Board, on this occasion, were one step ahead. They had already announced their intention to resign en masse at the AGM in September.

This is where I start to feel uncomfortable.

Kate Clanchy, one of the more vocal Requisitioners, suggested that this little ‘surprise’ from the Board was a ploy to wrong-foot the meeting.

In a seven-page document handed out before the meeting the Requisitioners laid out their case for replacing the Board with six new Trustees – each named and willing to step in. This was all new to me, a humble card carrying member who dabbles in a bit of poetry just for the sheer joy of it.

What I was witnessing was better than any Shakespearian play. It was a mix of tragedy and farce but with an underlying tension that somewhere in the room sat an observer from Arts Council England quietly ripping up cheques.

When the final Act came the members proposed four co opt nominees to become Trustees and asked the Board, who they had just declared a vote of no confidence in, to select the three they thought best. You couldn’t make it up.

The future

The next twelve months are going to be critical for The Poetry Society. Lessons have to be learned and, give them their due, the Board recognised that they were, as one member suggested, “out of their depth”.

All this showed that the Board lacked the knowledge and skills required to run a charity of this scale. Something that needs to be seriously considered when selecting the next one.

The key points for the months and years ahead a simple: preservation of The Poetry Society; confidence of the members; assurances to the funders; and a clear strategy on how the Poetry Society’s focus will once again be on promoting poetry.

A poem

I couldn’t miss the opportunity to post a quick poem.

EGM 

I passed a motion at
The Poetry Society EGM
It was Andrew
He said hello

 

 

 

Jul 11

Overheard

Elderly woman: Where was that place we were two years ago with the colourful market?
Elderly man: Norwich.
Elderly woman: It was nice there.
Elderly man: This is Norwich.
Elderly woman: It’s nice.

 

 

Jul 10

Tom Paley and Michael Roach

Michael Roach and Tom Paley

The coming together of Tom Paley and Michael Roach at The Forum in Norwich was one of those once in a lifetime moments.

They have, for many years, worked the same circuit and know the same people, but the opportunity to perform together has always evaded them.

Tom Paley was born in New York City in 1928 and in the early days he favoured his fiddle over his guitar and banjo. But, as he said himself, there came a time when people started suggesting that perhaps he should leave his fiddle at home. Still, at 83, his fiddle playing is free flowing and passionate while his guitar playing, between excuses for old joints, leaves even the younger Michael Roach mesmerised.

Roach himself (Washington D.C.1955) is very much a blues man although he describes himself as a storyteller with musical accompaniment. He performance is full of soul and humour and oozes with the love of what he does.

Tom performs exclusively for Michael and his video camera

Individually both men are highly regarded in their field and I can easily see why the word ‘legend’ is often used.

In the sound check the two men talked about people they knew, songs they had sung and more importantly what they were going to do together for an encore.

Their banter was priceless and that alone would have made a great evening’s entertainment.

Paley had just sound tested a song about a two dollar shoe. “Hey Michael,” he said, “I bet a two dollar shoe these days would really hurt.”

They tried out a couple of tunes, “You’re going to have to slow down, Tom, I’ll never keep up with that,” exclaimed Michael.

Come the encore they were still debating what to play, but finally settled for a rendition of Freight Train.

And then, after the audience left, there was another moment to cherish. Michael asked Tom for a personal performance of one his songs. He said it was so that he could video it and learn it. While Tom stood and played Michael’s face was like a kid on Christmas morning.

I was a part of that and I’ll never forget it.

 

 

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