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shewhomustThe tenth day of Christmas is Chaz'z birthday, and he nominated The Producers as his birthday outing. It had several fine performances and many funny moments, but ultimately didn't quite work for me. Maybe some day there'll be time to explore why...
On the eleventh day of Christmas we went to Darlington to see Les Barker: how to describe him? He's a performance poet, in the sense that he writes and performs poems, but he does this in folk clubs rather than poetry venues, and he has a hard core of fans who join in with the chorus of all the old favourites. He writes "strange poems" (according to his own web site), both serious and funny, but performed - when we saw him - only the funny ones. Standing on stage in a lop-sided cardigan, beaming like the mad uncle at the wedding, he announced "I'll start with the third one; so that's ten minutes we've saved already". That's typical of his humour: silly, surreal, and verbally extremely clever. The tale of a doomed love affair, for example, has the recurring refrain:
The Mask of Mono (scroll down) tells of Don Diego, the hero who leaves his M mark carved with his rapier at the scene of his exploits. But, as his name suggests:
Guide Cats for the Blind is a great idea doomed to failure:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nineweaving wants to hear what the Watersons can do with it...
He publishes the poems in little booklets, and I bought The English Book of Penguin Folk Songs, because I couldn't resist.
On the twelfth day of Christmas, Helen and Olwen came to dinner, and I baked a galette, which came out rather well (i.e., better than last time I tried). And I found the bean, which must augur a good year.
But we didn't take down the decorations until the following morning, which is less good. On the other hand, that was yesterday, which was also Chaz'z excellent birthday party, and Gavin argues that since Chaz'z birthday fell during the Days of Christmas, his birthday party must likewise be within the Christmas period.
All over now, though...
On the eleventh day of Christmas we went to Darlington to see Les Barker: how to describe him? He's a performance poet, in the sense that he writes and performs poems, but he does this in folk clubs rather than poetry venues, and he has a hard core of fans who join in with the chorus of all the old favourites. He writes "strange poems" (according to his own web site), both serious and funny, but performed - when we saw him - only the funny ones. Standing on stage in a lop-sided cardigan, beaming like the mad uncle at the wedding, he announced "I'll start with the third one; so that's ten minutes we've saved already". That's typical of his humour: silly, surreal, and verbally extremely clever. The tale of a doomed love affair, for example, has the recurring refrain:
For he was an armadillo(and "Sex with a concertina is rarely accomplished discreetly.").
And she was a concertina
The Mask of Mono (scroll down) tells of Don Diego, the hero who leaves his M mark carved with his rapier at the scene of his exploits. But, as his name suggests:
I'm on the side of the just
And what’s more, I'm just on one side.
...
Fear not, for Mono is coming,
But only out of one speaker.
Guide Cats for the Blind is a great idea doomed to failure:
You think I'm trying to help you(sound samples available here) Inevitably, he has a go at deconstructing the Shipping Forecast:
I'm not serving man, but mammon
You think you've gained a faithful friend
You've lost a plate of salmon.
Lundy, Fundy, Sundy and Mundy: wind south west, becoming cyclonic, bloody marvellous.What is it with the British and the Shipping Forecast? Its cadences have joined the Authorised Version somewhere where our language is formed, and from Carol Ann Duffy to Julia Darling , all the poets write their tributes.
Rockall: sod all wind, heavy showers, absolutely incredible.
Malin, Hebrides, Bailey, Fair Isle, Cardigan, Pullover and South East Iceland: wind south east, rain at times, slightly disappointing.
nineweaving wants to hear what the Watersons can do with it...He publishes the poems in little booklets, and I bought The English Book of Penguin Folk Songs, because I couldn't resist.
On the twelfth day of Christmas, Helen and Olwen came to dinner, and I baked a galette, which came out rather well (i.e., better than last time I tried). And I found the bean, which must augur a good year.
But we didn't take down the decorations until the following morning, which is less good. On the other hand, that was yesterday, which was also Chaz'z excellent birthday party, and Gavin argues that since Chaz'z birthday fell during the Days of Christmas, his birthday party must likewise be within the Christmas period.
All over now, though...
