Community spirit

Since I last posted on this blog, I've spent a lot of time in what might be broadly described as community ventures. Two are particularly worthy of note.

We've had this year's KettFest weekend, the annual promotion of local arts and culture. I facilitated a gathering of local authors in the library, which was great fun. People met to talk about their own writing projects, to network with people who are already published and to find out information about the next steps in their own writing 'journey'. There was much chat and joy.

Then I hightailed it round the corner to take part in a spoken word event: again, much joy. I read a couple of poems, a prose piece and an extract from A Sparge Bag on the Washing Line (coming soon!).

One of the stalls at KettFest was Extinction Rebellion. A group has been set up in Kettering, which Mr T and I have joined, and on Wednesday we all stood outside the borough council offices with flags and banners, because Item 11 on the agenda was the proposal that a climate emergency be declared here. It was a good-natured action - we offered strawberries to all the councillors as they arrived - and no one glued themselves to anything. Then we trouped into the council chamber for the meeting. Sensibly, the motion was passed unanimously. I'm sure you don't need me to tell you how important this is.

Both of these episodes made me realise that there is a lot of good energy in the town, if only you look for it. OK, there's plenty that needs fixing, but it would be nice if we could build on the positive instead of always focusing on the negative: a bit more ' Yay, Kettering!' and a bit less 'Kettering's a dump'.

Excuse me, now, while I go and put my soapbox away.

Arts and books follow-up

The new guidebook

What an extraordinary weekend I'm having. As I previewed in my last post, I went to an outdoor theatrical event last night as part of Corby's 'Our Woods' festival. It was astonishing, one of those truly weird and wonderful things that you can't quite believe you're seeing, not least because it was in - er - Corby. I mean no disrespect to this town where I used to live and where husband Clive still works, but honestly: Corby!

Then this afternoon I've been to a spoken word event in St Edmund's Church in the tiny village of Warkton. Back in February, I went to a  creative writing workshop that focused on the Montagu Monuments that are housed in the nave of the church - you can read more about that here - after which all the participants of this and other, similar events were invited to submit a few words for possible inclusion in the new guidebook.

Well, the guidebook is now out and this afternoon's event was to launch it. Those whose words have been included were invited to take part, and I'm pleased to say I was one such contributor. As you may remember from an earlier post, I'm not very brave when it comes to reading out my stuff in public, but I did it and people were kind enough not to throw rotten tomatoes at me. (We were in church, after all.)

What next, I wonder. 

Reading aloud

East Farndon Church

I went for a walk along the Jurassic Way on Saturday, which was lovely - apart from it being my turn to be stung this week. It really hurt, but fortunately we were on our way to the pub, where the landlord was happy to soak a napkin in vinegar as a good old-fashioned antidote.

One of my actor friends uses his daily walk to practise his lines, declaiming loudly to the birds and bees and no doubt bemusing any passers-by. When I first moved to London I joined a drama group as a way of making new friends, but I was never comfortable on stage, and I'm envious of those people who have a natural ease as performers. My mum has it, but I don't seem to have inherited it.

In reply to a comment left on the 'Under the Fable' blog, author Andy Gibney tells me that reading in public is easy: 'You just have to have faith in yourself and your words.' That's all there is to it, apparently. I've written some monologues that one day I'd like to share with the world, but for now they lie filed away.

What are your experiences of performing at spoken word events?

Unaccustomed as I am...

The monthly spoken word open mic nights have resumed in town. I nearly went to the first one to see what it's all about, with a tiny thought at the back of my mind that I might take my courage in my hands and do a turn. In the end, I didn't make it, but I gather it was a great success: standing-room only! I'm probably not quite ready for that.

My mother has no such qualms about performing. She is quite a regular on the 'circuit' and can be seen reciting monologues and doing poetry readings at various gatherings in north Staffordshire. One such recent engagement was at a harvest supper, where she had been requested to read a little something to the assembled villagers.

She told me. 'It was a nice meal, pleasant company, and they seem pleased with what I'd selected - a mixture of the profound and the humorous. In fact, they were rapt! As well as polite applause between some of the poems, there was some good clapping at the end.'

She was brought back to earth, however, when no sooner had she sat down than a chap (the church warden or some such) leapt to his feet and announced: 'And now we come to the moment we've all been waiting for: we will now draw the raffl1e!'

Ah, fame is a fickle mistress.