How odd are the acoustics in my new home – the hoover seems to be in a different place according to where I sit in the bay window. I’m still ruminating on last night’s Open-mic session. I was late to the Mechanics because I wilfully misread the venue location, believing it to be the Paddock. Why? No idea. The site plainly says the mechanics. Get it wrong and you either give up and go home or stubbornly persist. I’m not powered by smartphone but by a process of trial and error, eventually worked out where it was. By eight o’ clock, or just after, I settled down in one of the naughty boys’ places, at the back. Open-mic has come late to me – I’ve seen it several times over the years
but never really engaged. However, earlier this year, I started doing Spoken Word at the Whitaker in Rawtenstall. We up to a point (I say we as when I started, I lived little more than a mile from it) defined the way it developed: poetry, performance / accompanied poetry and prose. Rawtenstall is small, so Burnley’s big. 🙂
As things settled into place, I noted a couple of members from Burnley Writers. There were poems about foreigners (you’re not from Burnley), cowboys without guns, Lear style nonsense rhymes, children’s rhymes, things to be nostalgic about in 70s Burnley and You by Clare Shaw which stood out. I made a note of poem titles but as I look at it now, I’m dismayed at woeful a record it is. A performer list would have been handy (for blogging at least). As I chatted to a lyricist (also a hopeful North End fan) I began to realise there was plenty going on under the surface that just needed a little facilitating to deliver end product.