You can't say we're satisfied

Today's offering comes courtesy of Henry Normal (and his GLW) together with a little help from Paul Simon (and his brother, Ed).

Henry, a son of Nottingham, signed my copy of his recent anthology The Escape Plan a couple of years back and it remains one of my treasured processions. In his poetry Henry makes many passing references, both directly and indirectly, to his wife Angela - an award winning screenwriter in her own right.

My wife said nothing rhymes with orange 

But before despair could befall her 

I corrected Angela

Or Ange, as I call her

When Simon & Garfunkel released Anji (or Angie) on their 1966 album Sounds of Silence, Paul Simon was paying homage to his folk hero Davy Graham who'd written this fingerpicking bluesy classic the previous year. The story goes it was inspired by a young Soho waitress who knew all the bums, beatniks and young musicians riding the coattails of London's folk resurgence of the early/mid 60s.  

Here it is being played by Paul Simon and his younger brother Ed on a 1968 TV special. No, it's not camera trickery, it really is his near identical sibling on second guitar.

Paul Simon (with Ed Simon) - Anji (1968)

Bookish

You may be forgiven for thinking today was just another lockdown day; another identikit Thursday - if Thursdays even mean anything anymore. But today was World Book Day; no, I'm not sure what that means in the context of a global pandemic either. I guess it's all about promoting books, bookshops, writers, writing, reading and anything remotely bookish. With most kids not even in school at the moment I don't know how this year's event reached younger readers. By Zoom, I guess. Like everything else.

For what it's worth I'm currently reading Anne Tyler's The Amateur Marriage and am also dipping in and out of Henry Normal's latest poetry anthology. Oh, and I've just ordered the new Magnus Mills. 

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If you don't mind sharing, I'd love to know what you're reading right now...

(New) Normal

Earlier this month the acclaimed Nottingham Poetry Festival celebrated its 5th anniversary (can it really be 12 months since last year's event?*); befitting of the times it was, of course, held totally online with 'ticket holders' enjoying gigs and readings in the luxury of their own homes via, you've guessed it, Zoom. 

Will the word zoom, I wonder, in years to come, fill the population with varying degrees of dread or, will it, at its mere mention make our hearts go boom? One for future linguistic historians I'm sure. This year we were privileged to have one of my favourite poets - and co-founder of the festival - former local lad, Henry Normal. Henry was beamed into my kitchen last Friday direct from his Brighton home. Not the same as the real thing, you'll agree, but I'd have struggled to have enjoyed his performance any more even had he have bombed up the motorway on what was a wet and windy Nottingham night.

Henry's new collection is called The Escape Plan. As soon as bookshops are open again I shall be blagging myself a copy, nothing's so sure. And when I do it'll be hard not to hear Henry's dulcet Nottingham vowels in my head as I read it in my kitchen; whilst slurping a cup of tea, most likely.

Henry Normal - 'Not My Cup of Tea' (2020)

* Er, no: it's actually 18 months. And a huge thank you to Georgina Wilding for helping to lay on such a lavish festival in what has been a challenging year to say the least.