This concert will fall in love with you
I wrote a strange pamphlet during a full moon a year and a half ago, called This book will fall in love with you. I sent this along with some other poems to Matthew Pollard (a good friend of Lorraine's) who is a composer and conductor. Turns out he wants to set some of this to music, and give it a few performance in the Brighton Fringe Festival next spring. We met in The Basketmakers this evening to discuss the project, and after an hour or so were joined by Lorraine. I'm very excited by the prospect of performing again, and this time with wonderful new music.
These conversations conducted amid Halloween revelries. This being Brighton, at least a third of the people you saw wandering about on the street or in the pub were dressed as ashen faced zombies, mummies, or had weapons protruding from skulls, or there were those who were just liberally splashed with fake blood. Only one person really caught my attention, before it was dark even. He was walking along down the street looking quiet normal except for his eyes, which vertical slits for pupils.
Being rather excited by our new project Matt and I and Lorraine had a couple more drinks, then dropped into the Brighton Tavern (again crawling with the undead). Bumped into Linda, who had put me in touch with the local publisher, Paul, who I hope to meet soon.
Earlier, I had been up the hill to Anton and Anna's house. Chatted with Anna who I hadn't seen for ages, and with Klaudia who showed me the witchy hat she was going to wear. Oskar sat on my lap, seized my nose, and asked me why it was so big.
Anton then drove, Oskar and I north to Balcome for a short walk in the country. It really was idyllic. Bright weather, with a hint of mist, and the colours of Autumn in full flush. We walked across a field down into boggy places crossed by a plank walkway, which Oskar enjoyed. Anton full of pride seeing his son, still only three and a half, striding off into the country with his walking stick and Tomas the Tank Engine rucksack. The bells of a church were being rung, and for at least half an hour the peals rolled down the hill past the oaks and the yew trees to us.
After Oskar got tired, we went for a quick drink in the Half Moon at Balcome, clearly a local pub for local people. Anton drove us home, out of the late sunshine, to the Brighton side of the downs which were cloudy and damp.
Below Klaudia, Oskar in the wild and with Anton.
I wrote a strange pamphlet during a full moon a year and a half ago, called This book will fall in love with you. I sent this along with some other poems to Matthew Pollard (a good friend of Lorraine's) who is a composer and conductor. Turns out he wants to set some of this to music, and give it a few performance in the Brighton Fringe Festival next spring. We met in The Basketmakers this evening to discuss the project, and after an hour or so were joined by Lorraine. I'm very excited by the prospect of performing again, and this time with wonderful new music.
These conversations conducted amid Halloween revelries. This being Brighton, at least a third of the people you saw wandering about on the street or in the pub were dressed as ashen faced zombies, mummies, or had weapons protruding from skulls, or there were those who were just liberally splashed with fake blood. Only one person really caught my attention, before it was dark even. He was walking along down the street looking quiet normal except for his eyes, which vertical slits for pupils.
Being rather excited by our new project Matt and I and Lorraine had a couple more drinks, then dropped into the Brighton Tavern (again crawling with the undead). Bumped into Linda, who had put me in touch with the local publisher, Paul, who I hope to meet soon.
Earlier, I had been up the hill to Anton and Anna's house. Chatted with Anna who I hadn't seen for ages, and with Klaudia who showed me the witchy hat she was going to wear. Oskar sat on my lap, seized my nose, and asked me why it was so big.
Anton then drove, Oskar and I north to Balcome for a short walk in the country. It really was idyllic. Bright weather, with a hint of mist, and the colours of Autumn in full flush. We walked across a field down into boggy places crossed by a plank walkway, which Oskar enjoyed. Anton full of pride seeing his son, still only three and a half, striding off into the country with his walking stick and Tomas the Tank Engine rucksack. The bells of a church were being rung, and for at least half an hour the peals rolled down the hill past the oaks and the yew trees to us.
After Oskar got tired, we went for a quick drink in the Half Moon at Balcome, clearly a local pub for local people. Anton drove us home, out of the late sunshine, to the Brighton side of the downs which were cloudy and damp.
Below Klaudia, Oskar in the wild and with Anton.
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