The market town where I live in the south midlands has for the past few years (2024) held a “Bookfest”. Still in its infancy it has become a very successful event and attracts authors both famous and local to talk about their books at various venues in the town of Shipston on Stour over a three to four week period starting in September. The fest was originally set up by the local community to celebrate the love of and reading of books . Some of the venues used included the local church, the high school, the community hall and some local watering holes. Attracting authors and TV stars alike to come to town and promote and read their books to the townsfolk and locals. One of the events staged was a poetry evening at a public house in the town to which I was invited to attend due to my submittance of a poem for a local competiton organised by the local town museum. “Tramway 200” was a celebration of 200 years (1826 -2026) of the building of a horse drawn tramway from Stratford on Avon to Moreton in Marsh. Initially the tramway was used to transport coal, limestone and local produce as well as fare paying passengers but after circa 1850 the tramway was disused until the enterprising Great Western Railway company decided to take over the line and install a railway from Moreton in Marsh to Shipston on Stour. A regular train service ran four times a day on this branch line until discontinuation in the early nineteen sixties. Not sure as to how stiff the competition was going to be I duly submitted my poem and was surprised a couple of weeks later to learn my entry was selected to be read out at the “White Horse” pub one September Sunday evening. Then imagine my delight at being asked to read out my work only to find out that actually there were only four entries in total! “Better than last year” was the remark at so few entries. Never mind I could still win this with only four of us competing I think to myself. So on the evening of the poetry in the pub I turn up having paid my £5 entry fee and meet up with some of the good folks there and to steady my nerves I order a pint of Wadsworth Ale. That’ll do the trick and settle me down, only for my nerves to get the better of me and I accidently spilled some of my ale over the MC! His comment will live long in my memory. “It looks like I’ve pissed myself” he said wiping his trousers with a paper towel and me apologising profusely. I felt a right idiot but on the plus side, half a pint was saved and the incident somewhat calmed me down. We had at this poetry evening a local poet and a not so local one. From afar a field as Brighton no less. Miss Bassie Gracie entertained us with a description as why she started writing poetry after initially starting her career as a bass guitar player and performing with her band at Glastonbury! On a tour of the area she was invited to read her poetry and no doubt sign her latest poetry book, well it is a bookfest after all but until then the competition entrants had their say. I must add that there were only three of us in attendance and one was on vacation. Up steps contestant number one to the mic. An elderly lady who proceeded to regale us with a fine poem about the tramway and duly received a good round of applause from the thirty plus attendees. Now its my turn. Firstly I say my hello and then apologise to the MC for nearly drowning him and then start to read my poem “The last hurrah”. All is going well until the mic decides to stop working midway through! Okay all is good I have a loud enough voice to be heard and manage to complete my verse! Then the feedback, again a good round of applause and a few “well done” remarks. Wow, this is great, but hang on Jimbo there’s two more rounds to go before they announce the winner my son. Following that, the third poem is read by one of the organisers of the competition and finally the fourth by another lady and again both get good feed back and applause from the crowd. What do I do now, I know another pint will do the trick but without the spillage this time if you please and to improve my relationship with the MC I duly buy him a pint for which he is grateful and now in good humour, phew thank fest for that. There’s tension in the air now, we’re ready for the big announcement, who is it to be, whose poem has jangled the ear lobes of the judges. Well it turns out that one of the organisers told the judges that as there were only four entrants to the competition that all four should have a prize. A noble gesture and one that was welcomed by all. So everyone’s a winner as they say and in more ways than one. What I gained from this experience though was a massive boost to my confidence. Having written quite a few poems in this last twelve months, to be able to then read out one of my own poems to an audience and receive good feed back (incidently a lady in town the next day recognised me and said how much she enjoyed my poem) was a great thing to do and I felt on top of the world albeit a little world but you catch my drift. Bassie Gracie and local poet Joost Lohman did there stints and very good they were too. Both different styles but delivered in their own way. So after all the nail biting, beer spilling and mic breaking it didn’t turnout too bad after all.
James Findon.
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