Next festival of the season: WOMAD, at Charlton Park in Malmesbury. Not there for literary pursuits but to assist husband Sean with selling his beautiful woodwork, I was surprised to hear the Bristolian tones of Nathan Filer, as I walked past the Real Ale Tent.
For a festival that so excellently embraces the music and dance of the whole world, even its most obscure regions and distant islands, I think it really lacks something by not embracing further, the poetry voices of many nations. So with exotic Bristol suddenly represented in my midst, stayed and enjoyed every nuance in Nathan's witty, erudite rhyme and ramblings.
It turned out that the tent's stage was being managed by friend and poet Peter Hunter, who is also Apples and Snakes co-ordinator for the South UK (though he was not wearing his A & S 'hat' at the time).
Encouraged to do a few minutes on the open mike the next day, I did just that.
The Real Ale Tent and Pete & friends put on a vibrant, arts community, poetry and music for-the-people by-the-people all weekend. We bought real ale in support of such a venture. Cheers!
A brief divergence from poetry related things:
WOMAD always surprises me with some kind of music or another. This year, amongst other delights, I discovered Spanish based punk-folk band Che Sudaka. I haven't seen a relatively little-known band at WOMAD pull a crowd like that before. On one of the smaller stages, people spread way back into the throng of the festival to get a glimpse of what, who, this phenomena was. Many stood in the pouring rain when the skies let loose for a while. I haven't seen so many people pogoing, proper full-on up-and-down jumping, since...I don't know when. Decades ago. I bought the CD, and am playing it frequently. Not pogoing, though.