There have been lots of little things this week; no one big day, as there was last week. On Monday I went to a Ledbury Poetry Festival meeting, to discuss how we would spend the community fund money. This, as far as I’m concerned, is the most worthwhile part of the Festival – it’s the money spent on people who would otherwise have little or no contact with poetry, and well worth every penny. I handled the usual Monday heap of emails, and worked with a tiny follow-on group in Tewkesbury. I made them work very hard, and they responded brilliantly.
In the evening was the first rehearsal for Quartet. I have a great cast, and as long as we can get all the bits and pieces together I think it will be an excellent performance. Not a bad feeling for a first rehearsal. It isn’t a desperately serious play, but as light entertainment goes, it goes very well.
Tuesday wasn’t so good. I was preparing for my GP surgery group, and I needed to find a set of pictures of shoes – I know, it sounds odd, but I’ve used these pictures lots of times as starting points for writing. Somehow, in my office tidy, they have become lost. Never mind, I thought, I’ll print them out again. But the print quality on my little colour printer was awful, and half way through it just stopped working; apparently, the waste ink containers were full. The Internet gave excellent instructions on how to find and clean them, but contained the ominous warning: You may want to take photographs as you go along to help you reassemble the printer. No hope for me, then – but I found out how to reset it, and managed to finish my printing, and my prep.
I did lots of Poetry on Loan stuff, and in the evening went to see Under the skin, a film the critics raved about. It was dreadful; really awful – hardly any dialogue, and what there was was clunky; poor editing; long stretches of tedium. It even managed to make the Scottish scenery look bad. It was self-consciously clever, and I was so pleased when it was over; it was one of the two worst films I have seen (the other was Silent Hill).
During this week, I have entered three competitions. I very rarely do this, because the sort of poetry I usually write just doesn’t win competitions, but well, I thought I’d have a go. I’ll let you know how I get on.
On Wednesday I sanded down my patio doors – and found some rot. It’s not too bad, just the weatherboards, but I had to fill them, and today if it stays dry I’ll undercoat them. Sigh; there’s always something. I don’t find rot very entertaining.
In the afternoon I had my GP surgery group, which went well, and in the evening did the writeup and lots of emails.
Thursday was hospital day this week, with the usual lively and inspirational people. It’s a strange thing, but cancer patients are often entertaining; most of them see the funny side of things, probably because they have to. In the afternoon I worked on the book of pieces from the prison; it’s nearly ready to go for printing now. And I wrote a poem for another competition.
On Friday I did my accounts, and applied for some work. These applications take ages; it’s not just like sending in a cv or anything straightforward like that. And I went to the gym. In the evening I attended a Cheltenham Poetry Festival event, mostly because a doctor who has been very supportive of my work in the hospital was reading his poems for the first time in public. He was great; thoughtful poems with lots of good imagery, and some of the other poets were good too, with a variety of serious and lighter pieces. But the evening was one of medical-themed poetry, and really, some of it made me want to get up and go. I actually left half-way through, but that was mostly because I had stuff I needed to do – prep for the rehearsal tonight, and looking online at printers to replace my dead one.
On Saturday I bought a new printer, and went into Cheltenham with The Bloke for a little light retail, which I always find entertaining. All missions successfully accomplished.
And on Sunday I went to visit my mum. Usually I see my kids on mother’s day, but one is in Miami and the other was on the way to Malta, so this time was different. My brother was there too, and watching him being annoyed was most entertaining. Despite complaining about everything to do with the meal, my mum said she had enjoyed her day; I think she is one of those people who are happy only when there is something to moan about. I have nothing to moan about this week, really (except that awful film), but then I rarely do.
P.S. One of my readers refers to my blog posts as “epistles”. Gosh!