Hearts and words

It’s been a busy week!

Prep and emails, as usual, on Monday, and a long Facebook conversation with a  young man who has written a play; I’ve helped him with tiny bits of advice here and there. On Tuesday I don’t seem to have done much, according to my diary, but I’m sure I was very busy doing it. I prepared for the sessions with young people in Hereford, and that always takes a while. And my trophy for Best original piece of theatre  from last year’s Worcestershire Theatre Festival was taken away – shame! In the evening I saw Lone survivor, which I enjoyed much more than I expected; the kindness of the Afghan villagers was touching, and I think it gave the same feeling of realism as the opening of Saving Private Ryan.

Wednesday morning was taken up with emails and phone calls, and preparation for some work I was doing on Friday. I do sometimes think – for example when cutting out red cardboard hearts – is this an appropriate job for a grown woman? The answer is of course yes. It looks like I’ll be doing some work at the school over the road, which is rather lovely – journey time one minute; no car park charges.

In the afternoon I had my last session with the GP surgery group; unfortunately the most stalwart member was unwell and couldn’t make it, but they came up with some lovely pieces. This group is in Tewkesbury. I got in all right, but by the time I left, the town had become very nearly an island. Only one route in and out remained, and that goes through a residential estate with narrow streets and lots of parked cars, so the whole thing was pretty jammed – it took me more than an hour and a quarter for what should be a five-minute trip. It just made me realise how little I have to complain about, compared to the people who are in the middle of it all.

In the evening I did the writeup and some sewing.

On Thursday there appeared to be problems with the super-duper Poetry on Loan website; I have now narrowed it all down, and it will have to wait until the web builders can look at it. I worked in the hospital in the afternoon, with two great ladies. One of them told me that she wrote doggerel herself, and has since sent me a nice little verse to thank me for her poem; it’s always touching when people take the time and trouble to get in touch like this. Accounts in the evening.

Friday was the day for hearts. I worked in two libraries in Coventry, writing instant love poems for people to give away, and I copied them out neatly onto either posh parchment paper or the red cardboard hearts. It was great! One guy who sees his girlfriend only three or four times a year because she lives in Scotland; a woman who said she was very ordinary but turned out to have married a Jamaican 53 years ago – she was white, and that must have been a really brave thing to do then. Two poems for a lady whose husband died two years ago; one for a girl to give her mum; one for a member of staff, and one for a chap to give to a girl he had only recently met. Oh, and a love poem for Queen’s Park Rangers. People are so sweet, and so interesting! It was a thoroughly enjoyable day.

On Saturday I was working with two groups of young people in Hereford, and boy did they work hard! They are both quite quiet groups, but the first lot wrote some excellent poems and the second wrote an entire play.

And yesterday I didn’t do much; just starting on the book of pieces by the GP group. I won’t be cutting up cardboard hearts this week, but I’m sure I’ll find plenty of other stuff to do. Probably with words.

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