Saturday 23rd September 2023No general walkabout today as the poetry activity was to start at 10 am, with a … walkabout event. The Word Walk, organized by The Big Shed Collective, was an informal gentle walk along the Flock Of Words trail, a footpath designed by artist Gordon Russ Coleman in 2003, stretching from the Prom, near The Station Pub’s Platform bar extension to what is laughably called Morecambe Bus Station even though it consists of a solitary bus shelter hut.
The path is decorated in literary quotations relating to birds, including lines by festival guest, Roger McGough, and such worthies as Edward Lear, the Magpie verse, and even the Book Of Genesis extract in which Noah releases a Dove from the Ark.
Poets on the walk were encouraged to fill provided notebooks with lines of verse we were inspired to pen by what we saw and our notes were to be transformed into a unique limited edition fanzine for sharing exclusively with the festival attendees. Despite the rain this was a great event. Everyone was in fine spirit and members of the public took great interest, in one case even telling us of her own poetry writing.
Gerry Potter, Jackie Hagen and headliner, Roger McGough, (the latter then interviewed by Henry Normal. More cabaret poetry followed at Johnnies as did another round of They Shoot Poets Don’t They, this time running for almost two hours, and my chance to read several of my poems (though overall I only read out twelve over the weekend as opposed to 22 the previous year). I also got to read a poem at an open mic set organized by Brian Griffin, and my poem, Ode To John Cooper Clarke, was recorded for use in a radio show too. Cheers to Brian for that.
As the night went on, my health was taking a turn for the worse. I was not drinking much as neither Johnnies or The Winter Gardens provided real ales (Morecambe itself has few decent real ale bars at present). My stomach and stoma were beginning to turn over and I started worrying I might even end up throwing up, and did so just after getting back to my hotel, and for the night at least I felt better but that would change the next day.
Sunday 24th September 2023 Health Crisis
The final day started reasonably well for me though I barely touched the lovely guest house breakfast I had cheerfully polished off on the previous days.
My stoma usually needs changing anything from once to three times a day. AS it was coming off very soon after its morning change I took the bulk of my spares out with me. It was fortunate that I did, and ultimately still not enough.
The morning Symposium, in which we informally discussed our views on the current state of publishing and performance poetry opportunity, support and promotion was terrific.
My views; Much of my performance is not on the established poetry scene but at general open mic pub and club events, where I am well received as a poet among the musicians and reach an audience not expecting poetry but invariably receive it well. Much of my poetry is written for performing rather than the page. Commercially I do better with my short stories and non-fiction, especially my pub sign histories.
On publishing, many mainstream publishers are not too geared up to promoting new poets), many poets self-publish and sell books at their readings. The public is still badly affected by how badly poetry appreciation is taught in schools. Also, with a poetry collection of up to 30 poems costing the same as a 1,000 plus page novel, many will buy the novel as they get more to read from that.
The symposium was followed by a real treat, as festival organizer extra-ordinaire Matt Panesh provided a huge rolling buffet full Sunday lunch, but as my stoma changes were already engaging I had to skip this and watch everyone around me tucking in.
Several times, I had to slip away to the loos to change my stoma bags and by teatime, I had not just changed bags three times but 9. I had only one left, plus the two in reserve at the Sanderling. With great sadness I withdrew from the event and slipped away with a whole evening of activity still to go, including a set by former Poet Laureate Carol Anne Duffy (who I have seen before). I did get my copy of the Flock Of Words Booklet just as I was leaving which was delightful.
Back at the guest house feeling deeply depressed, I packed and retired to bed by 8pm.
Monday 25th September 2023 Home And Beyond
Again, I went easy on breakfast, only having any at all with needing the energy for my three bus homeward trip which went calmly enough. My stoma relaxed until I got home, where I fortunately had more bags to utilize.
Tuesday morning I rang my GP, who told me to ring my stoma nurse who told me to re-ring my GP. I called 111 who contacted my GP who agreed to see me and recommended I blast my stoma clean with a powerful prescribed laxative. I decided to save tis until after performing at The Ferret where I was asked at the last minute as another performer had let them down. I figured as my stoma was relaxing (having largely starved it for 48 hours, I’d be fine, but it started firing up again and I had to slip away several times to change it. Apologies to Pete The Temp who had also been on in Morecambe.
Back home, I tried the laxative treatment which was decidedly messy. A week later things were still uncomfortable and the sore throat that had been a factor from the start was now so intense I was struggling to breath so again I called my doctor, stoma team and 111, who put a specialist nurse onto me who recommended I go to the local A & E. After 7 hours there I was seen and told, ‘It’s just a stomach infection. Go home and ride it out. Just take Strepsils and cough syrup for your throat. Bye Bye.
It is easing up now, at least the stoma is, but hardly feeling fully restored yet.
Festival Thanks
Huge thanks to Matt Panesh, Maya Ozolina, Brian Bilston, all the performers and open mic’ers, the staff of The Sanderling Hotel, The Winter Gardens volunteers, Johnnies staff and the various bars and eateries visited, etc.
RIP – I learned soon after the event of the death (peacefully in his sleep) of poet Paul Blackburn, who had been in the Friday evening audience, though I never saw him there, and who was always supportive of my own work and a lovely chap to know. He will be missed by all who ever met him.
All photos taken by me.
Arthur Chappell
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