This morning the air brings me the notes of new carpet off gassing in a Premier Inn and mixes in essence of chilled seaside town air. A soundtrack of traffic plays like urban waves in the background.
Alt text says this week’s photo is a person holding a book in front of a bookcase. I say it is me visiting the National Poetry Library in London and not being able to resist a photo with my second full collection of poetry Welcome to the Museum of a Life published by Black Eyes Publishing UK. I also say this feels particularly apt given that I am a guest on Helen O’Neill’s Coach Write podcast this week. We had a wonderful chat about coaching, poetry and the journey to having books in the world, and it felt good to be a guest. I like listening to people talk on podcasts and I like being asked to talk too. It also makes me chuckle that the episode will air on the first of April!
The main focus of the visit to London was seeing the Manic Street Preachers headlining at The Royal Albert Hall for Teenage Cancer Trust. It was a fantastic concert opening with Motorcycle Emptiness and ending under a raining down of confetti during If You Tolerate This. That opening song was a moment of absolute tingle for me as I realised I was standing in the now, watching the band perform live, while also watching the original music video from all those years ago projected onto the screen behind them. A wonderful mingling of right now and back then. There was something beautifully pure about this. Later on I felt myself held still during the wonderful performance of This Is Yesterday which is one of my absolute favourite songs, and I don’t think I moved a muscle. There was plenty of time for movement during the set and I loved being surrounded by the energy of others in the crowd, but I do also love the parts where I am standing in the moment relishing the experience.
On the return train journey the following day lines from Roses In The Hospital came to mind when I had my first experience of a rail replacement bus service. If you don’t know that song the words “forever delayed” are repeated! I saw parts of Medway I had never seen before as the coaches we boarded wiggled their way from Gillingham visiting all the stations that the train would have stopped at during what felt like a pretty busy rush hour. Overall I enjoyed revisiting journeys by trains, but am not sure I would have been quite so chilled about the delayed parts if I had been on my own or if I had been timetabled to be at my destination at a specific time!
It was good to get my steps in in the big city and to see the sights. I enjoyed seeing people taking photos of themselves on bridges and with landmarks. I also noticed a particular street where people were pausing by red phone boxes and posing for photographs. Thinking about this and having all those Manic Street Preachers songs echoing in my head brings this poem from my first collection Magnifying Glass to mind...
Phoning Richey Edwards
no landline, no mobile, the call was made from a phone box
Stagnant air moved as I entered
disturbing sour nicotine, old urine.
Dampened cigarette ends lay split open
orange tobacco strands twisting out
like untidy moustache hairs.
Pockets loaded with coins I was ready.
Above staleness another smell rose;
the shelved phonebook
its pages thumbed and flicked.
I was ringing to say happy birthday,
he
was called to the phone
as if he might know who I was.
We spoke, but I can’t
recall the words.
I have an echo of a gentle lilt
that floats across my mind from time to time.
I called; we spoke.
I wish I had the words.
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