I’ll be back to ranting about the world next week but I am, today, hoist by my own poetry petard.
Have you ever been caught out by conflicting promises made to yourself?
You promise yourself you will not walk on the cracks in the pavement but you also promise yourself you will make a better effort to avoid arriving home with doggy doo doo on your shoes. Then you come to that bit of pavement where the pooh-clear space is so tiny and your foot just too wide to avoid the crack. Yes – we've all been there.
You promise yourself that you will be so appreciative of Aunty Maud’s next presy that you'll wear it whenever you see her. You have also promised yourself that you'll never ever wear a knitted tartan twin set encrusted with orange sequins.
Ok you get the picture.
Having tried a couple unwittingly when I first started doing performance poetry, I promised myself I would not take any further part in slams. For the uninitiated, a slam is competitive performance poetry. A lot of folk love ‘em and if you like blood sports I can see there may be an attraction. NOT FOR ME.
On the other hand when I moved to
myself I would do the first 10 things that were offered (poetically speaking).
Like the Five-a-day only not five and not in a day. Well – the second thing I
was offered was the BBC slam. Instead of saying a definite NO – flustered by
the conflict with my other promise - I prevaricated. Then a few weeks ago I
received an e-mail (e-mails were sent to those too crap and out of it to be on
facebook) with a heat date and time. Edinburgh
Anyway – to cut a rambling story mercifully short – I won the heat last night so now will be doing the BBC final in the big blue tent at the Edinburgh Fringe. The Fringe is something else I promised myself I would avoid for a while but it gives me chance to get my performance back up to scratch after a too long break ready for - hopefully - the autumn's big project. Watch this space.
This week’s recommended blog from the archive is -
Blog 33. Can’t Cuss? Try a Comedy Curse!