Dear fellow traveller,

If life is a journey, why do I have to spend so much of it sitting on a bench at Abergavenny railway station? That’s a question I’ve been asking myself a lot recently, particularly during the three hours I spent sitting on a bench at Abergavenny railway station. Not that there’s anything wrong with Abergavenny railway station. The toilets are cleaned regularly. The Whistle Stop cafe serves a delicious egg bap. There is a splendid view of Blorenge, the magnificent, flat-topped hill which has served for centuries as the go-to geological landmark for all poets in search of a rhyme for ‘orange’. 

With all that time on my hands, it’s no wonder I was given to a little introspection:

Lines Written While Waiting for a Train
at a Provincial Railway Station

If I could have my time over,
I would do it all differently
and not treat each precious moment
with such disregard and flippancy.

I would use my time effectively,
I would think ahead and plan.
I would reserve my stores of energy,
and take charge when I can.

But it’s too late in the journey
for regret, too late to repent –
because there’s not a socket in sight
and my battery’s on one per ce

It’s my own fault, I suppose – because, like a lot of poets, I don’t know how to drive a car. I tend to see myself as one of life’s eternal passengers, more of an onlooker than an active participant, powerless to intervene in human affairs directly: like the classical Greek god Zeus in the age of late antiquity, or indeed the Tory Party today. As a result, I am reliant on public transport to make my way around the country and that rarely ends well. But it does at least furnish me with a number of good excuses for turning up late – or not all.

I would like to apologise for the delay

I would like to apologise for the delay
in coming to work today.
This is due to a signalling failure
between my primary motor cortex and pyramidal motor pathway.
I shall remain here instead,
sidelined in bed,
until further notice.

I would like to apologise for the delay
in going for a run today
This is due to leaves on the tracksuit
I wore last week,
during my unsuccessful attempt to bury myself
in a coppiced wood.
I would still be there now, if I could.

I would like to apologise for the delay
in joining your skiing holiday.
This is due to the wrong kind of snow,
which, as far as I’m concerned, is any kind of snow
that encourages people
to hurtle down slopes, at speed,
on skis.

I would like to apologise for the delay
in taking part in life today.
This is due to delays.

To be clear, I am not denying that life is a kind of journey. Like all truisms, it contains some truth. But also typical of truisms, it’s an unhelpful simplification. It’s a statement that doesn’t really take into account the long delays and cancellations, the missed connections and invalid tickets, the broken down engines and rail replacement services; in other words, all the time we spend not getting anywhere, hanging around, kicking our heels. Oh, and while we’re on the subject of kicking our heels …

Over My Dead Body

I cut off my nose
to spite my face.

In revenge, my face
took up arms
against my legs

and yet, all the while
my feet were killing me.

It’s okay by me to find myself not getting anywhere. I don’t always want progression in my life or the feeling that I’m moving on – unless I’ve got to be in Aberystwyth by seven o’clock that is, and it’s already after four and the Whistle Stop Cafe is about to close. Similarly, I’m not that interested in self-improvement, setting and achieving goals, being the best person I can possibly be. It all sounds a little bit tiring, to be honest. Most times, I’m just happy to hang around and crack on quietly with a bit of existing. I’m like an aspidistra: low maintenance, with the ability to thrive in a dark corner or draughty hallway. And like the life journey of an aspidistra, it’s less about where I might be heading, but the fronds I make along the way. 

Journey of Self-Discovery

Dave decided to travel the world
in the hope he might find himself –
from Manhattan to the Matterhorn,
from Guatemala to Guelph.

He went donkey-trekking across Peru,
to a Buddhist retreat in Kathmandu,
the north, the east, the west, the south,
Dave went every way which but Laos,

but of himself, he found not one trace.
In the end, he gave up the chase
after another false trail in Madagascar.
Back home, he found himself working in Asda.

Autumn Tour Q&A (cont’d)

All this musing about life and journeys and whatnot is probably happening because I’m out on the road a lot at the moment. I’m ten shows into my marathon autumn tour, with only a paltry thirty-five to go. The questions continue to mount up about why I am doing this. Here are some attempts to answer them.

Q. I’ve not been to a poetry show before. What can I expect?

A. Poems.

Q. Will you be reading any bits from ‘Notes from a Small Island’?

A. No. I believe you may have got me mixed up with Bill Bryson.

Q. Scotland?

A. That’s not really a question, is it? It’s just the name of a country to which you have appended a question mark. Please try again.

Q. Okay, will you be coming to Scotland?

A. Thank you, that’s much better. Yes, I will be coming to Scotland, from 22nd to 24th October and reading poems in Glasgow, Aberdeen and Stirling respectively.

Q. Will you be reading this poem on your tour?:

Brie Encounter

the skies are gruyere since she left me
i’ve never felt so danish blue
caught between a roquefort and a hard cheese,
i stilton’t know what to do

i don’t give edam about the future
now my babybel’s walked out the door
i can’t believe i’ve double gloucester
i camembert it any more

i’ve ricotta get myself together
and build my life back caerphilly
cheddar tear for the final time
say goodbye to us and halloumi

A. No.

Q. I saw you in Aberystwyth. You were amazing, Please can you let me know all the other shows you’ll be doing this autumn as I would like to travel around the country and see you at all of them, but not in a creepy, stalkerish way. 

A. Okay, I suppose so …

October

7th: CROYDON: Fairfield Ashcroft Theatre  Tickets
8th: DEAL: Astor Theatre SOLD OUT 
9th: NORWICH: The Halls  Tickets
10th: COLCHESTER: Arts Centre  SOLD OUT
14th: LOUGHBOROUGH: MMC  SOLD OUT
15th: MANCHESTER: Stoller Hall  Tickets
16th: ULVERSTON: Coronation Hall  Tickets
21st: KIDDERMINSTER: Town Hall  Tickets
22nd: GLASGOW: Mackintosh Queen’s Cross  Tickets
23rd: ABERDEEN: The Lemon Tree  Tickets
24th: STIRLING: Tolbooth SOLD OUT 
28th: STAMFORD: Corn Exchange  Tickets
29th: BURY ST EDMUNDS: The Apex  Last Few Tickets
30th: CORSHAM: Pound Arts Centre  SOLD OUT  
31st: OXFORD: The North Wall  SOLD OUT

November

4th: WORTHING: Pavilion  Tickets
6th: BELLAGHY: Seamus Heaney HomePlace SOLD OUT
7th: BELLAGHY: Seamus Heaney HomePlace SOLD OUT
11th: LEEDS: City Varieties  Last Few Tickets
12th: SUNDERLAND: The Fire Station  Tickets
13th: HELMSLEY: Arts Centre SOLD OUT
14th: POCKLINGTON: Arts Centre SOLD OUT
15th: SHEFFIELD: Memorial Hall  Tickets
18th: OXFORD: The North Wall  SOLD OUT
19th: STROUD: Sub Rooms  Last Few Tickets
20th: BRIDPORT: Electric Palace  Tickets
21st: EXETER: Corn Exchange  Last Few Tickets
22nd: BUDE: The Parkhouse Centre  Tickets
25th: NEWARK: Palace Theatre  Last Few Tickets
26th: BAKEWELL: Town Hall  SOLD OUT
27th: CHORLEY: Chorley Theatre SOLD OUT 
28th: LIVERPOOL: Tung Auditorium  Last Few Tickets
30th: BRISTOL: St George’s  Last Few Tickets

December

1st: CARDIFF: Glee Club  Tickets
4th: LONDON: Union Chapel  Last Few Tickets

And finally … 

We not only journey through space but time, too. The next newsletter will hopefully emerge in early November, once October has been knockedover. Along the way, we will pass Halloween, so let’s finish with a short poem here in anticipation of that, which may – or may not – be inspired by a certain head of state. 

Pumpkin

was what she called him
because she knew
he had always held a candle for her

that his head was huge,
fleshy and orange
were further contributory factors

Until next month,
Brian

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