Tag: london

Meet-ups, currently reading & other distractions

Nothing wrong with distractions, and goodness I’m certainly welcoming them with open arms. But scroll down if you’re only here for the poetry stuff.

Distraction #1: Singing

A couple of weeks ago I was at Westminster Abbey with members of the Lewes Singers, for the fifth time, where we sang two evensongs in a spookily empty quire. We rather rattled around in there. But it was so fantastic to be able to sing again in one of our magnificent cathedrals. If you’re interested I’ve written a more detailed blog post about it here.

Lewes Singers in Westminster Abbey
That’s my man! Nick rehearsing the Lewes Singers in Westminster Abbey

Distraction #2: London

A few days in London was a real tonic. And it’s still pretty quiet and tourist-free. We visited some more of the fascinating City churches, also the much-revamped Museum of the Home, and just enjoyed exploring London on foot.

We also went to the David Hockney exhibition at the Royal Academy, The Arrival of Spring. It’s two (or three?) rooms of the paintings Hockney did in France during Spring 2020, recording the same trees, plants and landscapes as they transitioned from bare and cold to full greenery and colour. I was quite taken aback – the colours are just indescribably beautiful, and the whole idea of Spring and how it always comes back, no matter what… I don’t know why but I started welling up and before I knew it I was standing in the middle of the room completely in tears. I’ve never had that kind of reaction to any art, so it rather took me aback. I guess the last 18 months have been harder than I thought.

David Hockney number 209, 17th April 2020
David Hockney, The Coming of Spring number 209, 17th April 2020
Gorgeous Huguenot houses in Fournier Street, Spitalfields, London
Gorgeous Huguenot houses in Fournier Street, Spitalfields
The Barbican, Brutalism at its best
The Barbican, Brutalism at its best

Distraction #3: Gardening

Actually I’ve been taking less care of the garden recently other than deadheading, sitting looking at the wonderful hibiscus that only flowers for one week in the year, and picking tomatoes. These are mostly the variety ‘Romello’, and they’ve been so soft and sweet – highly recommended.

Romello tomatoes
Tomatoes ‘Romello’
The wonderful Hibiscus

And so to poetry…

I’ve had a few weeks of full-on Planet Poetry stuff, getting our new website up but mostly reading and preparing for interviews with (spoiler alert) Kim Addonizio, Martina Evans, Di Slaney and Sharon Black – you heard it here first! Series Two kicks off at the end of September. Subscribe in iTunes or Spotify or wherever you get your podcasts.

Recent poetry by Sharon Black and Di Slaney
Recent poetry by Sharon Black and Di Slaney

I’ve also actually been writing some new poems – hurrah! – as well as receiving the odd rejection email, including one addressed to ‘Dear Francesca’ – ! Dear oh dear. Sorry about that Francesca – do you have my rejection email by any chance?

Last month Hastings Stanza had its first in-person meetup since – well – you can imagine – and I can report it felt quite momentous. Glorious in fact. And a few days ago I met up with my Telltale pals in a Brighton pub garden and downed many pints of beer, as well as being very loud and lairy. Sadly I don’t have their permission to share a photo here, though I am sorely tempted!

And finally, not poetry exactly but kind of – my bedside reading is currently A Length of Road by Robert Hamberger. It’s an utterly absorbing and very personal account of Rob’s walk in the footsteps of John Clare. It’s a meditation on Clare’s poetry, and also nature writing but mostly a beautiful and honest memoir, and perfect reading for the quiet night time journey down into sleep. It’s published by JM Originals. Definitely recommended.

 

Fabulous reading arranged by super-supportive publisher Live Canon

Last weekend I had the great pleasure of a trip to London with my fellow Telltale poets, Peter Kenny & Sarah Barnsley. Live Canon, who published my pamphlet ‘Why?’ last year, had invited me to join the other three ‘pamphleteers’ Tania Hershman, Miranda Peake and Katie Griffiths, in a reading at the Boulevard Theatre in Soho. The actual theatre! Not the bar, where we had the launch in November (although that was a cool venue). No, we’re talking stage, a gorgeous auditorium, a seriously professional mic… when we walked in for a ‘sound test’ Miranda was whispering the word ‘terrifying’ and I admit I was a tad nervous myself. But hey, it was intimate, friendly, we were looked after so well and introduced by Sophie in true supportive Live Canon style. It was such a privilege to read as part of the Boulevard’s Sunday Service series, and I’m very grateful to Helen at Live Canon for arranging it – it’s brilliant when a publisher really stands by your work and takes an active role in helping you to promote it.

Plus I got to see my name with the Poet Laureate’s on the same flyer – ha ha!

Boulevard Theatre Sunday Service flyer

Oddly, we’d all decided on basically the same outfit – skirt or dress, opaque tights and ankle boots. Or is this just a way that women poets of a certain age dress for readings..? Which is rather rude of me since I’m almost certainly the oldest of this group. Anyway, here we are:

 

Tania Hershman
Tania

 

Katie Griffiths reading at the Boulevard
Katie

 

Robin Houghton reading at the Boulevard
Robin

 

Miranda Peake reading at the Boulevard
Miranda

Many thanks to Mark for taking the photos… this was my view of the auditorium just before the start:

Afterwards I was mightily relieved to have a drink with my lovely pals Sarah and Peter. And all this at 4.30 in the afternoon – back home in time for dinner, how civilised!

The Telltalers
The Telltalers had a grand day out!

And speaking of the pamphlet, I was recently able to donate £30 to the Trussell Trust, which represents £1 for each copy of the pamphlet I’ve sold either through this website or personally. Five more copies have been sold since then and I have five left, so when they’re sold I’ll be able to make the final £10 donation. And thank you also to the poet who responded to my email by donating £20 to the Trussell Trust so that he didn’t have to read my pamphlet – teehee! Well, it’s a good cause!

If you have a pamphlet ready to go then why not enter it into this year’s Live Canon competition? The judge is Glyn Maxwell and closing date March 31st…

‘Why?’ is of course available from the Live Canon website. Thank you so much to everyone who has bought a copy! Much love to you all.

Free Verse at Conway Hall

Up to London yesterday for the The Poetry Book & Magazine Fair aka Free Verse, at a new time of year (February rather than September) and back at Conway Hall.

Recently I’ve been plagued by headaches so after getting off the train I decided what I needed was a nice fresh(?) air walk across London from Victoria to Holburn.  It’s almost a straight line if you don’t mind the crowds – Buckingham Palace, Piccadilly Circus,  Shaftesbury Avenue – but of course I tried to be clever by diving down side streets and avoiding tourists or shoppers. This always means a few poor decisions and at least another ten minutes to the journey. But it’s often serendipitous. On Savile Row I passed a blue plaque announcing ‘The Beatles played their last concert on the roof of this building’. A few streets later I came across Marshall Street Baths, a 1930s building now restored and reopened as a public leisure centre in a most unexpected location in Soho. I remember visiting it when I was working for Nike in the 1990s, to assess its suitability as a venue for a fitness event. In the end we went with Seymour Leisure Centre in Marylebone, another historic old ‘baths’ (of the type mostly disappeared from our towns) now brought into the 21st century.

I love walking around London and discovering quirky, lost or almost lost sites. Author Paul Talling’s ‘Derelict London’ walks are a must if you’re into this sort of thing and within striking distance of the city. I’ve been on a few of them – but you have to book months ahead, as they fill up within minutes of his posting them online. Subscribe to his email alerts and you’re given a day’s warning so you can be ready on the dot of 9am to hit ‘buy tickets’. Paul’s site is fascinating and labyrinthine, but you can sign up for his emails here if you’re interested the walks.

You may wonder what this has got to do with poetry, but in fact it segues very neatly into a little pamphlet from Tamar Yoseloff’s Hercules Editions that I picked up yesterday, called Formerly. It was the first pamphlet from the press, and a collaboration with photographer Vici Macdonald. Vici’s photos of London’s derelict buildings, ghost adverts and Victorian boozers were the prompts for Tammy’s sonnets. Doorstep sellers, ‘Sweeney’-style low life, barmaids and the dead are some of the voices in these poems, as the poet imagines the people inhabiting these nearly-gone and semi-lost places.  It’s accompanied by a pull-out guide describing the locations, and Vici’s and Tammy’s accompanying notes. Fascinating. I admit I’m a sucker for attractive packaging and Hercules specialise in gorgeous covers – fab fonts, spot varnish and gold leaf abound! The press’s latest publication is Martyn Crucefix’s Cargo of Limbs, which I also bought and am looking forward to reading.

Here’s my haul from yesterday:

Books from Free Verse the poetry book fair

During the afternoon I was helping Jeremy Page on the Frogmore Press table, now becoming a bit of a tradition. Next to us was Andy Croft of Smokestack, with whom I had some fascinating conversations about the ethos behind his press, communist poets, mutual friends such as Peter Raynard, and the like. I covered for his table when both he and Jeremy were on a break, and managed to sell two books and two copies of the Frogmore Papers. I’m not sure I did so well the rest of the afternoon but it was a flying start!

As ever, the Fair was as great chance to catch up, meet for the first time or just wave ‘hello’ to lots of lovely poets including Abigail Parry, Carrie Etter, Susannah Hart, Briony Bax, Tamar Yoseloff, Jess Mookherjee, Sarah James, Jinny Fisher, Liz Bahs, Joolz & Hilaire, Rishi Dastidar and Davina Prince. If I’ve left anyone out I do apologise. It was also nice to chat with people generally while on the Frogmore table, including some people who turned out to be non-poets but just come in to browse and check it out. Which was fantastic. It was quite a crush all day, but I did feel it was the friendliest Free Verse I’d been to so far. Huge thanks to the Poetry Society for their organisation of the event.

I’d like to give a shout to Jeremy Dixon of Hazard Press and his intricately-made books. At a past Fair I’d bought three of his ‘micro books’, this time my eye was drawn to pocket-sized pamphlet called Caught by a Wave, which opens out into two concertinas featuring found black and white photos and overprinted with words that repeat and overspill (rather like waves I guess). Some of the print is overlaid in blue foil. Jeremy explained that he tries not to buy new material but to use what he has already collected. Each booklet featured sightly different paper stock or colour of cover. I have number 21 of 40. A collector’s item! I was also sorely tempted by My Nineties Madonna Scrapbook, but that will have to wait for a future fair, if it’s not sold out.

caught-by-a-wave - Hazard Press

Conway Hall is an iconic building, home of the Ethical Society and venue for all kinds of events. Yesterday the Main Hall was crammed with poetry people and books, but the balcony provided a quiet place to take time out. Also a good place to take pictures.

conwayhall-stairway

Free Verse 2020

Free Verse Poetry Book Fair 2020

When the Fair ended, I was due to meet a friend for supper in Crystal Palace, that’s deepest South London to those not in the know. I was supposed to walk to City Thameslink station, but took a wrong turning somehow and ended up walking all the way to Blackfriars and catching a train from there. So it was definitely a ‘see London’ day yesterday.

I actually bought two copies of Formerly by Tamar Yoseloff and Vici Macdonald and to celebrate a lovely day at Free Verse I’d like to give one away to one of my blog readers. Just leave me a note in the comments telling me why you’d like it, and if there’s more than one I’ll put the names in a hat and draw a winner.

City walk, a workshop, Van Halen & Jo Bell’s ‘Kith’

This is the first year in a while that I haven’t been driving up to the Southbank for the T S Eliot Prize readings this evening. I’ll look forward to reading all about it on various blogs.

I’m having a catchup day between jaunts. Last week was the first session in Katy Evans-Bush‘s fortnightly small-group poetry workshop up in Clerkenwell. I’m planning to make these Wednesdays into interesting trips to London by adding on other activities. The way the train tickets work is that you can’t leave London between 4 and 7pm on a weekday, without paying another £34. So since I can’t come straight home after the workshop, why not do something else?

detail from the Queen Victoria statue in front of Buckingham Palace, London

Last month when Nick and I were in town for a night, we spent a lovely morning just walking around and discovering so many quirky things we’d never noticed before. So after the workshop this week I decided to walk back to Victoria from Clerkenwell, taking my time, looking at statues and interesting buildings as I go and just being a pedestrian. I didn’t dawdle but I didn’t rush – along Theobalds Road towards Holborn, past the lovely gardens of Gray’s Inn, through Theatreland to Piccadilly Circus, down through leafy St James’s and Pall Mall, past the looming Duke of York’s monument and down steps to The Mall, up to Buckingham Palace and onto Victoria Station. I may have been the only pedestrian who wasn’t in a hurry. I didn’t check Google Maps or stress about best roads to take, just followed my nose. It was brilliant. I have a feeling I’m going to enjoy my ‘city walks’, and I plan to try different routes each time. The nice thing is that if I change my mind there’s always a bus to get part or all of the way. I know it sounds silly but I’m so used to getting around central London on public transport that it’s a real revelation to find how easy it is to walk places.

The workshop itself was really useful, so much so that the poem I’d taken for feedback was tidied up the next day and sent out. Yes! In fact I’ve gone a bit crazy since my last blog post and sent out no less than fourteen poems. You read that right! I just looked through all my current stuff and thought, this is ridiculous, what am I waiting for? So they’re out the door. Amazingly, three have already found a home: Charles Johnson at Obsessed with Pipework is so good at responding quickly, and JUMPED on my poem ‘The Metallurgy of Eddie van Halen’ (see what I did there?). In fact I think I probably wrote it with OWP in mind. Anyway, it’s given me an immediate shot of confidence for the new year. Huzzah! This is how I feel!

On Friday I was in Reading at the excellent Poets’ Cafe at the invitation of Claire Dyer, and I have to say it was brilliant. The organisation, promotion of the event, the venue, the lovely audience and everything was so good. Things like being asked ‘can I just check how you pronounce your name’ is the sign of a professional set-up. I want to mention in particular the lovely hosting by Becci Louise Fearnley. Do get along to the Poets’ Cafe in Reading if you can, it’s every month at South Street Arts Centre. Highly recommended.

In the post this week, a little treat:

Kith by Jo Bell

I started reading it over a cup of tea and couldn’t stop. Consumed in one sitting! That has to be a recommendation. I loved it, and kept thinking OOH I wish I’d written that. So, another good omen for the year ahead. It’s not brand new, but dammit it’s good. Kith by Jo Bell (Nine Arches Press) is currently on offer for just £4.99 – Yes! You read that right! Half price! Buy it!

‘Poems & Pictures’ blog at the Mary Evans Picture Library

We’re into our fourth week of dust, clutter and washing up in the bath. The joys of home improvements! We still don’t have a fully working kitchen, one cabinet is ten mils too big for the space, one lot of contractors isn’t returning our calls and may have gone out of business (or ‘done a Brexit’ in the new shorthand) and rellies are coming to stay on Thursday but DON’T PANIC. Our builder is doing a marvellous job and it’s all going to be lovely.

All this is just my way of saying sorry for not blogging lately. I’ve also got a bit of work on, which I slip in between coats of paint and electricians turning off the power.

So what to report? I’ve mentioned before that I’ve been reviving some old poems, all part of a general poetry cleaning up/recycling drive.

One such is ‘London Bridge to Waterloo East’, a poem that did the rounds a few years ago to no avail. Last year I was contacted by Gill at the Mary Evans Picture Library, inviting me to contribute a poem to their Poems and Pictures blog, something inspired by a photo from their vast library (more than half a million images!) I really loved the historic railway photos, and when I came across  a bird’s eye view of the massed railway tracks at Waterloo Station in the 1960s, I thought of my poem and got it out. It needed some work, and having the image in front of me helped bring out something new. The resulting poem has just been published and you can see it (and the photo) here.

The picture library is fascinating in its range of topics. It’s the sort of site where you start browsing and it’s difficult to tear yourself away.

First experience of Coffee-House Poetry at the Troubadour

I can’t believe it’s taken me so long to get my lazy bod along to the Troubadour cafe for Anne-Marie-Fyfe’s Coffee House Poetry nights. I guess the journey was putting me off, but actually it was as sweet as a trip on Southern Rail could be. Trains on time. Changing at Clapham Junction. Two stops on the overground and a 5 minute trot past the scary-looking Brompton Cemetery. I left home at 5.30pm and was back by midnight.

The Troubadour…. what can I say? I already gave a flavour of it in a previous post. The downstairs room where the readings are held is an interesting L-shape, and tables and chairs were tightly packed in. Readers were called in groups of 6 in order to be ready to leap to the stage. A military operation, but handled with good humour, and people responded by (mostly) sticking to the rules – one poem, no more than 25 lines, little or no preamble. There must have been 60 or more readers in all, and an amazing range of poems to the theme of ‘yellow’. Most of those read were by the poets themselves, but we also heard work by Louis Macneice, Philip Devine and Frances Leviston among others.

Jan Heritage and Robin Houghton reading at the Troubadour.
Jan Heritage and I reading our poems. (Sorry for the grainy pics)

I was looked after by poet friend Jan who’s a regular, although there were several other people there I knew and it was very nice to finally meet others who I knew only by reputation, such as Mona Arshi (who I’m reading with next month at Lauderdale House, oh did I mention that already?) and Robert Peake.

The event has been going for some years now but I got no feeling of it being a clique – which has to be down to Anne-Marie’s hosting skills. She appears to know everyone’s name, (including mine, even though we’d only met once), she’s there greeting people as they come in, chatting and making introductions beforehand and in the break. Her relaxed persona rubs off on the audience, with happy results. It’s a style I’d love to emulate when I’m running events, because I’m aware I can sometimes get into the “don’t panic!” mode and the rictus grin/short temper if things aren’t going quite to plan. Must try harder!

Anne-Marie Fyfe, Stephen Bone & Robin Houghton at the Troubadour
Anne-Marie Fyfe, Stephen Bone and myself, and featuring Stephen’s yellow socks – OK, I know it’s a bit blurry, but it was dark!

If you’re a regular reader of this blog you’ll know I can get a bit irritated about event timekeeping (ahem!), but in this case, given the number of readers it was easily forgivable that it ended a teensy bit later than scheduled. Sadly I had to catch a train so missed the final few readers, the results of the Big Yellow Taxi quiz (at which I sucked big time) and the announcement of the favourite poem of the night. I was told it wasn’t always quite that busy, as the regular nights feature just a handful of headline readers. I’m already looking forward to the next one in May when the season starts up again for the summer. If you’ve ever thought of going along but haven’t yet, do so if you can, it’s well worth it.

Stanza Bonanza – Brighton & Palmers Green

Stanza Bonanza Brighton v Palmers Green, June 2014
A bit fuzzy but definitely us

It was a lovely evening at the Poetry Cafe last night – and a very high standard of readings I felt – there was music too: I don’t normally go for bits of singing inserted into poetry, but Tom Cunliffe gave a riveting performance including just that. It set the atmosphere alight.

It was nice to encounter again Katherine Gallagher who I met earlier in the month when we were both reading at the Lamb Festival. Katherine brought her own brand of anecdote and self-deprecating charm to the business of introducing the Palmers Green poets, while I struggled to haul myself out of a sofa in an elegant fashion each time I got up to introduce ours. Paul McGrane did a great job of organising the whole thing and adjusting the mic stand seemingly for every reader, we were all such different heights. In the Palmers Green camp I particularly enjoyed Joan Michelson‘s reading – I’d  come across Joan’s name a lot but we hadn’t actually met before – and Judith Willetts.

Our Brighton Stanza poets were wonderful, of course – but then I would say that! Big thanks to Tom Cunliffe, Antony Mair, Peter Kenny, Ponnie Dudley and Marion Tracy for coming along and to our supporters on the night. And to Peter especially for paying for the cab that got us to Victoria in time for me to catch the 21.47 home, in time to join Nick in the pub after his students had performed their last concert of the year, a glass of wine and the balmy stroll home at midnight. Happy days.

Faber Social: Sam Riviere, Joe Dunthorne, Luke Wright, Ruth Padel

It was a arts-studenty sort of scene last night at the Faber Social in London: a narrow basement room, concrete floor, a sweaty mix of music and conversation growing in volume, a parade of pretty, thin girls in dresses with cinched waists, ponytails and fifties make-up and fresh-looking lads with pale skins and serious glasses. 80% of the audience was probably under 26, judging by the slightly nonplussed reaction to poems about fatherhood and childcare by someone who looked like a student himself (Luke Wright). Meanwhile Ruth Padel held court on a table with various bright young things. Fascinating to watch the milling and mixing.

Luke Wright is very funny. As well as compering, he performed the last set and pulled the audience along with the sheer pace and energy of his poems – ‘The Drunk Train’ on its slow stagger back to Essex on a Saturday night, Wright’s imagined showdown with a sadistic French cop ‘Jean Claude Gendarme’ – fantastic.

Before Luke we’d had a set from Ruth Padel, who seemed slightly out of place in this company but the audience was quiet and respectful (a sure sign this was a serious poetry event, I guess). She read from a new work ‘The Mara Crossing’. I confess I struggled to engage with all the poems – they were quite long and dealt with big issues of migration, human rights and the environment, and Padel’s voice is warm but slight.

The performer whose name had attracted me to the event was Sam Riviere, whose 81 Austerities I love, or rather I should say I found compelling, even though some of the poems were actually repellant.  Interestingly enough, his ‘double act’ last night with Joe Dunthorne was based on the theme ‘Battle’ and was concocted around the idea of two people meeting to collaborate on a poetic work, hating each other but at the same time not being able to let go.

The whole thing was brilliant. I took some video snippets but the visuals were just backs of heads, so here’s a 30 second audio extract of Joe Dunthorne reading, an imagined scene which refers to the fact that Sam Riviere’s poems have no punctuation or capitalisation…

First ‘Poetry Unplugged’ experience

poetry unplugged at the Poetry Cafe

So much for my resolve to get out and do more readings/open mics this year.

I haven’t yet plucked up the courage to tackle the Troubadour, although to be honest it’s partly the thought of making my way there (actually it’s the getting back from west London –  late at night – a mission with Southern Rail, believe me) and not knowing if I’m going to make it on the open mic list or not. But I like the look of their Monday evening events, with some impressive guest poets appearing.

Last night however I took part in my first Poetry Unplugged open mic night at the Poetry Cafe in London, accompanied by my up-for-anything friend Lucy. It was about this time last year that I persuaded her along to the Betsey Trotwood for an Ambit launch, where I managed to disgrace myself by drinking too much and she did an impromptu guest spot behind the bar. I’ve never been published in Ambit but I’m sure that’s just a coincidence.

Anyway, back to last night. It was a reasonably full room – pretty impressive that it’s been going for over ten years and it’s every week – I marvel at the stamina of host Niall O’Sullivan, who keeps time with joviality and a very visible iPad display. Most impressive was his ability to say people’s names both before and after they read, and come up with a little linkage banter that made reference to the poems we’d just heard. What a pro.

The first half was an interesting mix of newbies and (I assume) regulars, ten men plus myself. Lucy and I had looked over my poems in Pizza Express and agreed on the two to read – the one where I channel Calamity Jane and the other one a found poem, one of my few ‘funnies’. I think it did raise a slight titter (thanks Lucy!) – but probably too many references to 70s TV shows and not sure I was on the same wavelength as the earnest-looking (and mostly young) audience. Ah well – I still enjoyed reading.

Someone read a lovely poem about a lady who had suffered from dementia in later years and he felt her funeral hadn’t done justice to the person she once was. Probably my favourite of the night, I wish I could remember the poet’s name. Among the others we had some heartfelt lost love/bittersweet memories material,  one long tale in rhyming couplets which apparently was after Edgar Allen Poe (Lucy had to enlighten me on that), some stormin’ political commentary and some (self-described) ‘anti-feminist’ shouty stuff.

Many performed from memory – something I should try to do I think, but I would have to be absolutely word-perfect – nothing worse than forgetting (and telling the audience you’ve forgotten) for breaking the spell. Having said that, the very first poet up stumbled rather towards the end and eventually gave up in a cloud of “fuck its” but all very jolly about it so no-one minded. The last performer entered just as he was announced, giving the impression that it was some sort of show of superiority, or that he couldn’t be arsed to listen to anyone else. This made Lucy and myself less guilty about leaving before the second half, much as I’d like to have heard some women reading (surely there were some) it’s quite an intimate venue and it would have looked worse to leave halfway through I think. And the 21.47 from Victoria beckoned.

PS I’ll certainly go back some time – anyone like to  come with me?

Brighton vs Forest: the result

Stanza Bonanza Feb 13

It was hot stuff last night in the basement of the Poetry Cafe. I was just about ready to pass out in the second half and resorted to fanning myself with the folded remains of my poems.

But quite apart from the heat (maybe it was only me suffering? must be age), a good night was had by all. A good variety of readers and material, some wonderful poems, several laughs and plenty of lovely people come to listen – thank you. And most of all three cheers for Jo for introducing us Brighton lot and coralling us all. Hip hip … For me personally, it felt significant – my first reading in London.

In the photo (not sure we were all ready at that moment but I like the quirkiness of it):

Back: John Taylor, Antony Mair, Cliff Bevan, Andy Williams and John Walsh
Middle: Ruth Wiggins, Jennifer Hall, Hassan Vawda, Sonia Jarema
Front: Dave Brooks, Mike Sims, Jo Grigg and moi