Book it, book it real good

This is happening tomorrow. I am going. You should go too. It is free. All the other details are on the flyer. David Gaffney is a flash fiction writer and also a novelist, and he will be reading some short stories from his latest collection The Half-life Of Songs (up for this year's Edge Hill Short Story Prize) and maybe presenting some of his Destroy Powerpoint slides. I can't recommend this enough. James Davies is the organiser of experimental poetry night The Other Room and editor of If P Then Q. He will be performing some poems from his new anthology, Plants. The event will be compered by "the incredible" (apparently) Tony Trehy, text-poet and founder of Text Festival, currently on the go in Bury.

After that, I'm hotfooting it to the Kings Arms in Salford, where my friend and Flash Mob colleague Mr Dave Hartley is co-hosting a Flash Mob quiz with his brother Mr Rick Hartley. Some of the questions will be about books. Benjamin Judge has written a round. I expect that will be about cheese. Or books. It's a quid per person and there are prizes. See Dave's blog for more.

Hostess with the mostest*

So earlier this evening I bobbed by Cornerhouse for the preview of the new art show Unrealised Potential, which starts properly tomorrow and runs until 12 September. It takes up all three galleries, but it seems in the wrong order. Not back to front; more muddled up, really. Normally, I approach things from a rational, logical point of view, and, in the case of the Cornerhouse galleries, if a show is over three floors, I work my way up to the very top where I expect the climactic moment to be had (recently, there were nudey pictures and a sign at the door to warn the faint-hearted). As usual, therefore, I wandered into the first gallery because that makes sense in the scheme of things. It's also where you pick up your drinks token at such events, which is important.

So, in the first floor above the cafe (technically, therefore, the second floor, but let's not confuse things), pinned to the gallery wall are basically lots of nice neat cards printed with ideas for art projects. You know what? I can't be arsed reading them. I've got an aching head from where I banged it on the fridge door earlier this morning and I've had a dog of a week. I didn't come here to squint at 12-point type in a low level of light. I just happen to look at one about Star Wars, but only because I feel I ought to at least try and then the lady next to me whispers to her boyfriend that he'd like it. Underwhelming isn't the word. Sod this, I think, and head straight to the top. For that, apart from anything else, is where I can trade this ticket in for some cold hard liquor. Having snaffled a glass of the rose, I glance around at the work, and I just don't get it. It's like a student art project. Or something in a cutting-edge Berlin creative squat. I can't even be bothered telling you about it. It's not for me; it might be for you - if that's the case, work it out for yourself.


So, I go back down to the middle gallery. I noticed on the way up that it's dark there. I can probably hide in a corner and neck the wine without anyone noticing. When I walk in and the first thing I see is the weird negative video image of a face on the right-hand wall, I even start grimacing. It's like having my teeth pulled out, and I've not had enough of this plonk yet for it to work as an anaesthetic.

But then, THEN, I spot the crazy mesmerising air hostess ladies going about a choreographed routine to really slow cheesy cha-cha-cha music, and all is forgiven. I can't get away; it really pulls me in. And I'm not alone. Well, I was to start off, but by the time I leave, after perusing the maddest display of components (from "bell only" and "cranked handle" to "pressure gauge" and "wafer valve"), the space in front of the screen is heaving. Yes, the "mock business fair pavilion" is a bit bollocks; no, I don't understand the purpose of the chain curtain; but the film is brilliant, and that's really something coming from someone who generally can't stand video installations. It even makes me understand how the rest of the show fits together. See? Not all negative. I might even go back one day to work the rest out.


*Well, what else did you expect?

Novella idea

Anyone who follows me on Twitter might have noticed I was in Northumberland over the weekend, having a spot of well-earned time off from my present contract and busting some moves at a wedding in the French-style surrounds of Alnwick Garden. I can now state with absolute certainty that the combination of a cheese sarny and a stride along a wind-swept beach really is the cure for a beer-wine-spirit-induced hangover, even if I can't be sure what said spirit actually was (although its magical properties were well documented as one of our friends flew around the floor to MC Hammer).

Plus, as if more excitement were needed - apart from the wedding, the witnessing of our new-last-year tent withstanding some pretty hardcore gales (although not without damage, it has to be said) and a two-way trip through Rothbury (yes, that Rothbury) - I was treated to a mosey around "one of Britain's largest secondhand bookshops", recommended to me by a certain ex-patriated American in Ramsbottom.


Located in an old railway terminus, Barter Books has everything: a station cafe, lots of battered plush velvet seats scattered about, a "muriel", as Mum says, of famous authors (from Alan Bennett to Virginia Woolf), a complete selection of Keep Calm And Carry On memorabilia (the original poster was, legend has it, discovered in a box of books the storekeepers acquired at auction), a miniature train chugging about above the bookshelves and, oh yes, books. Tons of the monsters.

I picked up Nicola Barker's Small Holdings. I'd read on Who The Fudge Is Benjamin Judge? that her previous tome, Reversed Forecast, was "splendid", and this novella (it's only 130 pages or so long) is a lovely Faber & Faber edition with a waxy black cover and a photo of half a giant red onion. It's also about gardening, which added to the attraction. I even came home and planted some more salad seeds. Anyway these initial warm feelings were borne out and I managed to read the whole book in my makeshift home parallel to Hadrian's Wall, which is a very good sign indeed. I'm still not quite sure what happens at the end, but no matter, it'll be one of those things I think about and gradually digest. What really struck me was the characterisation - really amazing and detailed - plus some almost poetic playing about with words. The penultimate paragraph is a case in hand, but I don't want to go spoiling it for you. Just read it and see.

I was pleased, therefore, to see that Barker has made it through to Round Three of Benjamin's World Cup Literary Distraction (as mentioned back in June), and is the next fixture. However, I can't cheer her on as she's up against lovely local Elizabeth Baines and, as I was chatting to the newly becoiffed Ms Baines only last night, I'd feel guilty. (BTW, Elizabeth is doing a reading tonight, from 7pm, as part of the Didsbury Oxfam Bookfest programme - more on last night's event very soon.) I know it's not technically possible in a World Cup context, but I can only hope for a draw.

Rhyme and reason

Well, won't you look at that. The Guardian is today running a feature about The Rise Of Poetry In Advertising, in which it discusses that McDonald's ad I'm a fan of and tells you what you'd already learnt via Words & Fixtures (ever the trendsetter) some weeks ago.

I was interested to discover, however, that's it's good old green champion Pete Postlethwaite who reads the I'm afraid inferior and somewhat on-bandwagon-jumping, if nostalgic Betjemanesque (so I'm told), poem on the Cathedral City ad. I do like PP, especially after seeing a) his moving bow-taking following his first-night performance as bonkers old Prospero in The Tempest at the Royal Exchange last year and b) him regularly buying The Big Issue while he was doing the Manchester run.

Back to the feature, and I do think they make a good point about bringing poetry to the masses. You can't really complain, can you?


Anyway, forget that: check out that nice picture of cheese on toast. Mmmmmmmmmmmmm.