My poet friend Tim Sansom called tonight to say he'd put a word in for me with the owner of a Northampton club that does poetry readings, and the owner wanted to talk to me about doing a reading of my own. Yikes! Even contemplating the prospect of taking my delightful little short poems onto the stage makes me redecorate my pants a deep shade of brown. But I have to follow it through. If I don't the curiosity will plague me for the rest of my days.
So what else is new in the Blue Fred Village? Ah! Well, apart from continuing flirtation and long, good talks with ****, a new relationship which maddens and intrigues me, tonight my brother Simon sent two more photos from the old days--that is, my childhood--and how sweet it is to have them. They reactivate buried sense memories! Both pics show a bizarrely youthful me at a primary school May Day celebration in Little Harrowden in the early Seventies. I am small and thin, with long unkempt blonde hair and strangely feminine features. In one picture I am engaging in a pursuit called, then, "country dancing", which as I recall involved a lot of weaving in and out and taking partners by the hand and swinging them jovially while an accordion wheezed. In another I am snapped in a chair on the edge of the school playground where the festivities were occurring; I am turned sideways from the other kids (no change there, then), and looking down rather abstractly while the wind plays havoc with my hair. Who'd have thought that angelic but slightly morose little boy would turn into a poetry giant?