Readers may recall how my poet friend Tim had talked to me about appearing at a Northampton club, at an event called "Beat Night" (how appropriate for an old angel head), in the room upstairs . He performs with the guy who runs the show sometimes, and he'd spoken to him about the prospect of me having a night there.
Well, I held off calling the guy (let's say his name is Joe, which it is), for a while--life and nerves getting in the way--but I finally phoned him tonight and he was a prince. He's pencilled me in for a night in August or September. Or the Months of the Brown Trousers, as they will be known.
I'm going down to Beat Night tomorrow night with Tim to have a look at the venue, get a feel of the crowd, listen to whoever is performing. It seems there's been an active poetry community in Northampton for a while now, and in my arrogant isolation I knew nothing about it. Isn't that the way. Bruce always knows better than everybody else.
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