Museum of Welsh Life

I was going mental staring at the walls. Thought a break from my dissertation and a reward for all the injections I’m suffering (had two more today) was in order.

The weather is utterly glorious here at the moment. So, I piled myself into the trusty ol' wagon and set off for the Museum of Welsh Life, which I’ve always wanted to go to but haven't managed thus far.

I had an absolutely lovely day and found a couple of very pagan things whilst ambling about. The first find was a maypole in the middle of a field!

Bit wonky, but definitely a maypole because it said so on the information board.

The second thing was a big ol' farm house. They find these buildings all over Wales, disassemble them, and bring them down here. Then they put them back together again! It's quite amazing. Anyway, this farm house was painted red:

The information read:

The red colour is traditional and considered useful in keeping evil spirits away from the house, as was the Rowan tree in the garden.

There are bits and bats in Marie Trevelyan's Folk-lore and Folk-stories of Wales but it was brilliant to see history up-close and personal like that. I especially like anything left intact from the 1500s.

There was also a reconstructed Celtic village:

They're reconstructing a church and painting original medieval artwork on it that was found underneath the plaster. It was like no church artwork I’d ever seen in my life:

I was really surprised by the variety of buildings. It's a wonderful place. I recommend it to anyone - on a sunny day :)

[NB 2013: At the time of writing, someone had made the entirety of Marie Trevelyan's Folk-lore and Folk-stories of Wales available free online. It may still be out there somewhere, but it is one of the greatest travesties of transience that particular website has gone.]

Whistlin' a Moon Over Tinkinswood

Just got back from Tinkinswood. Was a magical night as always. Totally still tonight and met a German bloke there who's travelling around Britain with his missus in a camper van. They're spending the night up there as they can't find anywhere else to pull over. Had a good chat and watched the moon rise - utterly spectacular, just like Beltane. Bright, glorious orange. Looked more like the sun! Then it got dark and the moon turned to white but, as always on a cloudless full moon there, such a bright, bright white that you could see everything. He wandered off back to his van and I stayed out there for a while longer, enjoying the silence.

Had a bit of a whistle. Been using the recording mic that Mum lent me for my dissertation interviews to listen to meself playing the tin whistle.

[NB 2013: Commence waffle about tin whistles which is no longer relevant because the site that hosted the recordings is deceased. If you're into tin whistles, check out Mick's Virtual Whistle. If you're lost on the obscure cultural reference, try: Moon Over Bourbon Street.]

Do You Think? (AKA Owed to Tree)

This poem is dedicated to a friend who asked me to read some of her poetry and tell her what I thought. It is meant kindly, as encouragement to all.

Do You Think? (AKA Owed to Tree ;) )

Do you like what I have written
Do you like the written word?
Do you think you could do better?
Do you think that it’s absurd?

Have I gone too far
Or not nearly far enough?
Is it better structured
Or simply off-the-cuff?

Should I write a stanza
Or possibly an ode
Do you prefer classical
Or in the modern mode?

Should there be another line
Or should there be one less
If I made these two lines rhyme
Would you be impressed?

If I trust in your opinion
Instead of trusting mine
Perhaps instead of average
My verse would be sublime?

Of course the problem there would be
In asking for your take
That fostering a critic
Does not the poet make.

Want

One more.

I seem to get creative this time of night. I think it's sexual frustration ;)

This one I'm kind of proud of, and it prompted a response that made me laugh (see below).

Want

A spider weaves a web in the corners of my heart
Suspicion is its venom, murder is its art
Every silver strand that pulls tight across my chest
Leaves a naked emptiness aching in my breast

This arachnid lives in me, sucking on my blood
Exsanguinates my inner spark, turns my dreams to mud
It catches thoughts like they were flies
And feasts itself on their insides.

As the cobwebs have accrued
Misery has ensued
Everywhere I seem to turn
I know the things I can’t un-learn

Years come and years go, every day I look
In every single manuscript, in every single book
Looking for a name that I can call my inner foe
As every day inside of me I feel its presence grow

Little spider fingers plucking at my veins
Liquid spider venom flowing through my brain
Tucked up in its corner, protected by its lies
Little spider watching, hunger in its eyes

Resignation filled my soul as I drifted off to sleep
Cowering in the shadows, a tear slid down my cheek

I baptized this creature from that font
And realised then, its name was

Want.

*

Comment:

That's pretty good, dammit!

I wish I had written that................

in fact I probably will some time in the future. ;)

One Love Poem and The Woes of Gulbárdier

Sponsor me! - Sorry, had to bump that to the top of my blog ;) 

Huge thank you to those that have so far!

Aaaaaanyway. Following on from a recent post on murder poetry in which an intended love poem accidentally made a Byronic slip, somebody said that they hadn't seen me write anything new for some time. They gave the impression that, should I care to write some more, they might not be averse to reading it (thanks Dad! ;)). Hmmm. Well, the creative juices haven't exactly been flowing of late, but I did jot up a couple of ditties that a couple of people didn't seem too upset after having read. 

So, without further ado, here is one very special poem. Nobody dies, nobody gets killed, nobody is miserable, and no one's having an affair. Blimey, must be losing my touch...:o/

I Cover My Eyes

I cover my eyes so I cannot see
But inside I feel it breathing in me
I look to the left, I look to the right
But see nothing of no one without any light.

A river it rises after the rain
Overflowing to bursting, without any pain
I cover my eyes so I cannot see
You… looking at me

Blind, I feel you standing there
The heat of your body, the smell of your hair
The steady look of your steady eyes
Your breath repeating that steady rise

If I had two hands I’d reach out and touch
But I need my hands much too much
They have an important job to do
To stop me… looking at you

I know you’re laughing at my smile
I want to peek, but I'll wait a while
In this moment warm and black
I know I love you, and you love me back.


Doesn't Rhyme

This is a poem that doesn’t rhyme.
Perhaps it will do, in time.
Why it doesn’t I do not know.
It really does frustrate me so.
But it doesn’t.


You are Logic, I am Art

You are logic, I am art
Together we are worlds apart

I must paint while you play chess
You must stroke while I caress

I am passion, I am play
You store it up for a rainy day

I get in the car and go
But you are methodical and slow

You plan it out, you plot the route
I just grab my bag and scoot

You account while I design
You’re the church and I the shrine

You wear grey and I wear red
I’m from the heart, you’re from the head

You were logic, I was art
It very nearly broke my heart.

So, that's what I've come up with since the rather better Things I Know. I'd say not bad, but slightly average.

With that, and as promised to someone, here is a poem of rather more epic proportions, written some time once.

[NB 2013: What followed was a truly, truly epic poem called The Woes of Gulbárdier.]

Sponsor Me! :o)

*fluttering of eyelashes*

Most of you know, but for those who don't, I've landed a job in Rwanda starting in November, working for the Rwandan Association of Deaf People for the next couple of years. The programme is funded through VSO and, on average, it costs around £15,000 to recruit, train, and ship one of us out there. So, it's sort of traditional for VSO volunteers to have a whip-round of friends and family to help them continue the good work that they do all over the world.

Now, I hate asking this kind of thing, but, hell, look at it this way: the more you donate, the less you'll have to see of my ugly mug for a while ;)

If anyone fancies showing their support it'd be really appreciated, but no hard sell. I know we all have our adopted causes.

To sponsor me just CLICK HERE.

[NB 2013: I aimed for £200 and raised exactly that through eleven donations. Thank you to all who contributed!]

Things You Wish You'd Never Seen

Started my next round of injections today with Hepatitis B and Rabies. Both require three injections and I worked out I already had six injections in the past week! Thankfully, my nurse is absolutely lovely and it's quite an experiment for both of us as she hasn't given some of these before. My arms don't ache at all this time, thankfully.

Unfortunately, my curiosity got the better of me and I had a look for Rabies on YouTube (I have a morbid sense of curiosity). One of the results was of a young child in the developing world dying of the disease. It was horrific. One of those things I really wish I hadn't watched, like the time I did a Google image search for faces and got one of a dead American soldier with one half of his blown off.

Makes me so grateful for vaccination technology.

Yesterday, I also had a look through the BBC's archives on Rwanda and found the first report footage of Habyarimana's plane crash that kicked off the genocide. 'Enflame passions' - now that was the understatement of the year.

Now, all these years later, they're running off methane and the people's fortunes have really taken a turn for the worse with a visitation from a Tory part envoy!

There are more clips from the BBC relating to Rwanda here.

Yay Dad! :)

(Sorry to embarrass you Dad, but it has to be said!)

He's on the 'Silver Command' for Cheltenham Borough Council, dealing with the flooding in one of the worst affected areas. After the Police/Fire Brigade/Army etc. (Gold Command), they are the emergency planning team who deal with all of the other provisions, such as the supply of drinking water, emergency shelter and housing (which is Dad's area).

Not having a TV myself, I didn't realise just how bad things were until I turned on the news in the kitchen today whilst eating lunch. My jaw hit the floor as Fergal Keane (of Season of Blood fame) introduced the devastation around the country. This is the special I watched. I knew there had been problems on the M4 as our friends couldn't get over last weekend, but the scale of it had not hit home until I saw the images.

Dad works for Cheltenham but lives in Gloucester, and is without water himself at the moment as the supply got contaminated and there was a power cut, too. Luckily his house is okay, but there's a shortage of water as the tanks can't keep up.

Hopefully the water has peaked now and will start to go down, but you can't help wondering if this is a sign of things to come.

In the meantime, go Dad! :op

Broken Love of Blake

Ah heck, I have to post these things so that when I go away I will always know where they are ;)

I watched a film the other day, The Hart of Me. One of the running themes throughout the film is a poem by Blake. I've been having a bit of a poetic month so far and this poem was the icing. I adore Blake for the one simple reason:

I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.

And I waterd it in fears
Night and morning with my tears,
And I sunned it with smiles
And with soft deceitful wiles.

And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright,
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine-

And into my garden stole
When the night had veiled the pole;
In the morning glad I see
My foe outstretchd beneath the tree.

- A Poison Tree, Blake

I mean, seriously, what a poem. Very cool. But compared to Byron, Shelley and Rossetti, I don't really know his work that well. So, I looked up the poem. I am now a fan. He very almost has, and may yet still, usurp Shelley as my favourite of them all, if it weren't for The Cloud, which, I’m afraid, possibly along with The Witch of Atlas, is the final clincher. The first four lines of the last verse of The Cloud should form my epitaph, I love it that much. Blake, I didn't know particularly. Certainly not his longer works. 

Anyway, thank you to The Hart of Me for the introduction. I'm a convert! It's called Broken Love:

My Spectre around me night and day
Like a wild beast guards my way;
My Emanation far within
Weeps incessantly for my sin.

‘A fathomless and boundless deep,
There we wander, there we weep;
On the hungry craving wind
My Spectre follows thee behind.

‘He scents thy footsteps in the snow
Wheresoever thou dost go,
Thro’ the wintry hail and rain.
When wilt thou return again?

’Dost thou not in pride and scorn
Fill with tempests all my morn,
And with jealousies and fears
Fill my pleasant nights with tears?

‘Seven of my sweet loves thy knife
Has bereavèd of their life.
Their marble tombs I built with tears,
And with cold and shuddering fears.

‘Seven more loves weep night and day
Round the tombs where my loves lay,
And seven more loves attend each night
Around my couch with torches bright.

‘And seven more loves in my bed
Crown with wine my mournful head,
Pitying and forgiving all
Thy transgressions great and small.

‘When wilt thou return and view
My loves, and them to life renew?
When wilt thou return and live?
When wilt thou pity as I forgive?’

‘O’er my sins thou sit and moan:
Hast thou no sins of thy own?
O’er my sins thou sit and weep,
And lull thy own sins fast asleep.

‘What transgressions I commit
Are for thy transgressions fit.
They thy harlots, thou their slave;
And my bed becomes their grave.

‘Never, never, I return:
Still for victory I burn.
Living, thee alone I’ll have;
And when dead I’ll be thy grave.

‘Thro’ the Heaven and Earth and Hell
Thou shalt never, quell:
I will fly and thou pursue:
Night and morn the flight renew.’

‘Poor, pale, pitiable form
That I follow in a storm;
Iron tears and groans of lead
Bind around my aching head.

‘Till I turn from Female love
And root up the Infernal Grove,
I shall never worthy be
To step into Eternity.

‘And, to end thy cruel mocks,
Annihilate thee on the rocks,
And another form create
To be subservient to my fate.

‘Let us agree to give up love,
And root up the Infernal Grove;
Then shall we return and see
The worlds of happy Eternity.

‘And throughout all Eternity
I forgive you, you forgive me.
As our dear Redeemer said:
“This the Wine, and this the Bread.”’

Floods

Our friends Cas and Sean were supposed to be coming over for the weekend, travelling from Lewisham, but they got as far as Reading - took them hours - and decided to pitch up with relatives for the night as parts of the M4 were flooded. They were going to set off again today but no change, so they've headed for home.

Someone in another forum said similar: "My Gentleman could not make it home from work last night, all roads west bound from Reading were impassable. So he headed east, into London and stayed the night at my parents. I am hoping he will be able to get home soon."

What a state! Still, at least the bridge between England and Wales won't flood ;)

Reconciling Rwanda

Found this short documentary on YouTube about Rwanda.

Just watching Hotel Rwanda again, I forgot how harsh it was. 

Ho-hum.

Yellow Fever

I've just had my Yellow Fever vaccination (good) but cannot drink alcohol for 48 hours (bad). Apparently, in about 10 hours, I can expect to feel like I’m coming down with the flu and drinking alcohol will make this feeling worse. The sweet irony is that this weekend Cas and Sean are visiting from London, and it's supposed to be a booze-up. Ho-hum. Anyone for J20?

Parking Ticket

South Wales Police have dropped the parking fine they issued me with after I sent them a copy of the completely blank ticket and made a resident's rant. I like complaining, and often it works. Like the time I got a free replacement driving license after pointing out that I only let go of my bag after being stabbed in the neck. 

I accept that the DVLA aren't responsible for me being a victim of crime, but the difference is that they are a national corporation making thousands of pounds a day. Plus they made the process of applying rather ridiculous. So, sometimes you do just need to stand up for yourself. I'm thinking of following this up by writing to my local Councillor about the fact that our resident's permit zones, rather than protecting us against daytime shoppers taking advantage, actually penalise people for living here.

Then again, maybe I can't be bothered ;)

Brainier Than I Thougth

Apparently there was a 'clerical error' with my university results and whereas my Sociolinguistics module currently reads 65% it should apparently read 67%.

At least it's gone up not down :op

Achy Arms

Started my jabs this morning and my arms are killing me! Had three today - two in the right arm (Polio/Diphtheria/Tetanus and Hepatitis A) and one in the left (Typhoid). Bit sore now. Perhaps going out drinking until 3am last night wasn't strictly the most strategic move :)o/ 

It was Suki's graduation party though, and we had a great time. Met at O’Neil’s in the Hayes about 8pm and then headed to Buffalo, which was nice and mellow being a Monday night. My thoughts are with those of my fellow comrades who are currently sitting behind desks nursing hangovers. I salute your bravery, it is commendable.

I have to pop back to the surgery later to pick up a prescription for the other jabs - the ones the NHS doesn't cover - then bring them home and put them in my fridge until next week, when I get more administered. Next Tuesday I get the Hep B and Rabies shots. I've also made an appointment for this Thursday to go to another centre where I can get my Yellow Fever jab and certificate, which is compulsory to enter Rwanda. That jab costs £45! Thankfully VSO pick up the tab for all my vaccinations.

Thank you Mummy for the chocolate and caramel flapjacks you sent me home with at the weekend - they are taking my mind off it :)

Season of Blood

I have just finished reading Fergal Keane's book Season of Blood, about his time spent reporting in Rwanda during the genocide of 1994.

It's one hell of a book. It leaves you cold. If you have seen Hotel Rwanda, then you will be familiar with what went on. This takes you right up close and personal, into an horrific madness that took the lives of around a million men, women and children.

What I find particularly difficult is that this was thirteen years ago. I was thirteen at the time. I remember the news coverage. This was well within my lifetime, not something that happened back in the 70s or 50s.

The following is the introduction from the Lonely Planet Guide to East Africa:

Welcome to 'Le Pays des Milles Collines' or the Land of a Thousand Hills: Rwanda is a lush country of endless mountains and stunning scenery. Nowhere are the mountains more majestic than the peaks of the Virunga volcanoes in the far northwest of the country, forming a natural frontier with the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DR Congo) and Uganda. Hidden among the bamboo and dense jungle of the volcanoes' forbidding slopes are some of the world's last remaining mountain gorillas, and it is the opportunity to encounter these contemplative creatures at close quarters that continues to draw visitors to Rwanda.

A beautiful yet brutalised country, Rwanda is all too often associated with the horrific events that unfolded here in 1994. It has been etched into the world's consciousness as one of the most savage genocides in the history of mankind. What happened here is beyond belief, but the country has taken giant strides towards recovery in the years since.

Rwanda has more than the magical mountain gorillas. The shores and bays of Lake Kivu conceal some of the best inland beaches on the African continent, pretty handy given how far it is to the sea. Deep in the southwest, Parc National Nyungwe Forest is the most extensive mountain rainforest in the region and provides a home for many primates. But it's not all monkey business in Rwanda, as the capital Kigali is safe and sophisticated.

Many visitors are unsure about travelling to Rwanda given its history. However, as long as security and stability persist, Rwanda is a refreshing country in which to travel, where tourists remain a novelty and the rewards of the present outweigh the risks of the past.

It goes on to talk about 'Rwanda Today':

Rwanda has done a remarkable job of getting back onto its feet and has achieved an astonishing level of safety and security in a remarkably short space of time, albeit with considerable help from a guilty international community that ignored the country in its darkest hour. Visiting Kigali today, it is hard to believe the horror that visited this land in 1994, although the scars are much more visible in the impoverished countryside.

Things have been rather less remarkable on the international front, as Rwanda has been embroiled in the conflict in DR Congo, which has cost somewhere between three and four million lives. Rwanda and Uganda joined forces to oust Mobutu in 1996 and then tried to use the same tactics two years later to force out their former ally Laurent Kabila. What ensued was Africa's first great war, sucking in as many as nine neighbours at its height. Rwanda and Uganda soon fell out squabbling over the rich resources that were there for the plunder in DR Congo. Rwanda backed the Rally for Congolese Democracy and Uganda the Movement for the Liberation of Congo and the two countries fought out a proxy war. Peace negotiations began in 2002 and DR Congo continues to edge towards peace. Rwanda withdrew its forces, but if and when an international inquiry is launched into the war in DR Congo, Rwanda may find itself in the dock. Rwanda's motives for entering the fray were just, namely to wipe out remnants of the Interahamwe militia and former soldiers responsible for the genocide, but somewhere along the line, elements in the army may have lost sight of the mission.

Back on the domestic front, Paul Kagame assumed the presidency in 2000 and was overwhelmingly endorsed at the ballot box in presidential elections in 2003 that saw him take 95% of the vote. Parliamentary elections followed in October, but EU observers say the poll was marred by irregularities and fraud. Meanwhile, the search for justice continues at home and abroad...

Looking at the bigger picture, Rwanda is home to two tribes, the Hutu and the Tutsi, and the former Belgian colonialists encouraged a hostile division of the two. The Hutu outnumber the Tutsi by more than four to one and while the RPF government is one of national unity with a number of Hutu representatives, it's viewed in some quarters as a Tutsi government ruling over a predominantly Hutu population. However, the RPF government has done an impressive job of promoting reconciliation and restoring trust between the two communities. This is no small achievement after the horrors during the genocide of 1994. It would have been all too easy for the RPF to embark on a campaign of revenge and reprisal, but instead the government is attempting to build a society with a place for everyone, regardless of tribe. There are no more Tutsis, no more Hutus, only Rwandans. Idealistic perhaps, but it is also realistically the only hope for the future

I will be based in Kigali, the capital, as far as I’m aware at present. Lonely Planet sounds quite encouraging about that:

Population 600,000
Rwanda was known once as the 'Land of Eternal Spring' and its capital Kigali still fits the bill. Sprawled over ridges, hills and valleys, it is a small, attractive city with superb views over the intensively cultivated and terraced countryside beyond. The mountains and hills seem to stretch forever and the abundant rainfall keeps them a lush green.

The city took a pounding during the genocide in 1994, but a massive amount of rehabilitation work has been undertaken in recent years and there is a major construction boom in the city centre today. This is a city on the move, looking ahead to development rather than looking back at its destruction.

There aren't a huge number of sights in the city, but the Kigali Memorial Centre, documenting the Rwandan genocide, is a must for all visitors to Rwanda. The city has a reasonable range of hotels and restaurants to suit most budgets, and while the nightlife is not quite as pumping as Kampala or Nairobi, it is worth a whiff at the weekend. Many of the most popular restaurants and nightspots are spread across the extensive suburbs that surround the city centre.

Ballet

Today was our annual family outing to London to see my cousin Billy dancing at Covent Garden Opera House with the Royal School of Ballet. I'm soooo proud of him! He's a Swansea boy originally, and he's been dancing since he was old enough to walk, just about. My Aunty Patsy used to bring him to Cardiff for lessons at the Welsh Institute of Sport, right next to my local, Y Mochyn Du.

I could gush on about his achievements, but it would probably embarrass the hell out of him, so I won't. Actually, all of my Swansea cousins are crazy talented. His two older sisters, Sali and Lana, are both artistically gifted. Sali is at art college in London, where she's a sculptor. She recently gave an exhibition where she'd welded three bicycles together. The two at the front drove the contraption forward, and the peddler on the back drove an electrical generator that powered a music player. Very clever, though I didn't get to see it - Mum and Merrick went for the day. Lana is at Edinburgh, I think, and she's really talented at painting.

So, anyway, enough gushing. It will be the last time I'll see him for a bit, as I'm off on this Rwanda trip. Tickets for the Royal Ballet can command between £250-£1,000, so maybe next time I won't be able to afford to watch him dance!

It was brilliant, though - this year as always - and you see each of the years showcasing work, from the tiny, tiny ones right up to the top of year, like Billy. His Julie Walters also came to watch (the ballet teacher who discovered him and put him forward for the auditions).

We had a good wander round Covy afterward. I used to spend a lot of time there when I was visiting Dad at weekends. He used to live in Sutton, Crystal Palace and then Croydon, where I went to the British Record Industry Trust School of Performing Arts. I have fond memories of the place and it hasn't changed too much.

School Reunion

Last night was weird. I went to my school reunion. I would like to say that it was an interesting experience, but it was just odd. Everyone was very much the same... only bigger. I went with my friend Simon, who I’d seen at Hollowell last week. I'd arranged to drive so he could have a drink. After the initial 'hello, how are you,' I started to regret it. The only thing worse than a school reunion is a school reunion sober!

Nah, it wasn't all that bad. Just a bit boring, really. Once you find out who's doing what job, how many children people have, and that everyone is still living in the area, there isn't much more to say. I think my mum put it well: 'If you were good friends, you'd have stayed in contact anyway.' Dad admitted to never having been to any of his saying: 'You'll find that all the people you didn't like have changed immensely... and you still don't like them.' lol How he'd know, not having been, I’m not sure. But he was dead right.

Soooo, glad I went, I think, if only to see what people look like now. It's nice to know everyone seems to be really happy and getting on with the things they want to do, but I don't think I’d repeat it. What surprised me most was that a large proportion of them have remained in contact, and see each other regularly, because they all still live in the same place. I once read a statistic that said '80% of people never move outside of their home town.' I thought 'how can this be?' Especially with jobs and travel as they are, and people going off to uni. But, after uni, it's truly amazing how many end up where they were before. I'd say 80% of the people there on Friday were still in their home area or very close. Not that that's a bad thing, it just surprised me. Especially as we seemed to spend most of our school years discussing how we'd get out of there.

The reunion was at Fat Cat's in Northampton, which had a nice beer garden. Simon and I stayed for a good couple of hours and then headed over to Rugby for a last drink and a chat away from the hubub.

All Systems Are Go

I had my medical today! Eeep.

And, yes, it did involve peeing in a cup. It always does ~sigh~

Thankfully, my usual doctor was away on holiday - I don't particularly get on with him - so today I had the other partner in the practice and I was so amazed. He was an absolutely lovely guy, the complete antithesis of my usual doc. Just really nice.

He went through the paperwork and signed all the forms saying I’m medically fit to go to Africa. My blood pressure was fine, and he also did a shine-in-my-eye test. Apparently, by shining a light on the back of your eye, they can tell by the state of the blood vessels all sorts of things like diabetes and stuff. Apparently, the back of my eyes are in very good condition, which means I’m healthy :) Happy happy happy happy.

I left photocopies of the vaccination sheets for the nurse on the way out. Apparently, she's going to call tomorrow or whenever to arrange to start the course of jabs. But, essentially, the whole medical thing was relatively painless. Not as big and scary as I was imagining. The placement was conditional on a clear medical, so it was the last thing that could have jeopardised it.

I also received an e-mail the other day through Facebook, from a volunteer who's already out there working for the Rwandan Institute for the Deaf on this project. Facebook have a really good VSO Rwanda forum, so it puts everyone in touch with everyone else. Hopefully I’ll be able to build up a much better picture of what's going on out there. I've got to call my VSO Co-ordinator next week to have a proper chat, and I’m already compiling a list of questions.

Bring it on!

Chocolate for Questions and Roger McGough

Yesterday was a good day. I was given a huuuuge bar of Cadbury's Fruit & Nut for participating in a fellow LangCom student's research. 

I turned up in the morning. My friend Kerry was there, and a PhD student, and we had to sit in a recording studio and discuss poetry for an hour. It was quite fun really. We just had to analyse a poem because Vicky, the woman running the research, was looking at people's mechanisms for understanding poetry. 

It was a really good poem. Vicky specifically researches that poet's work. Apparently, she's loved it since she was an under-grad writing her first dissertation on him. She always had dreams of actually meeting him and being able to ask him questions. Then, in her final year, he died. Quite sad, really. 

The poem is as follows:

May 24, 1980

I have braved, for want of wild beasts, steel cages,
carved my term and nickname on bunks and rafters,
lived by the sea, flashed aces in an oasis,
dined with the-devil-knows-whom, in tails, on truffles.
From the height of a glacier I beheld half a world, the earthly
width. Twice have drowned, thrice let knives rake my nitty-gritty.
Quit the country that bore and nursed me.
Those who forgot me would make a city.
I have waded the steppes that saw yelling Huns in saddles,
worn the clothes nowadays back in fashion in every quarter,
planted rye, tarred the roofs of pigstyes and stables,
guzzled everything save dry water.
I've admitted the sentries' third eye into my wet and foul
dreams. Munched the bread of exile; it's stale and warty.
Granted my lungs all sounds except the howl;
switched to a whisper. Now I am forty.

What should I say about my life? That it's long and abhors transparence.
Broken eggs make me grieve; the omlette, though, makes me vomit.
Yet until brown clay has been rammed down my larynx,
only gratitude will be gushing from it.

- J. Brodsky

Good stuff.

That night, I went to another friend's house to interview a couple of people for my research. Because it was on that side of town, I swung past PC's afterwards for a drink with Gedge and Phil. After closing, Phil went home because he was knackered (partying a bit too hard recently ;)) and I headed back to Gedge's. We sat up talking poetry for another couple of hours. He lent me a couple of his favourite books by Roger McGough, who I hadn't read before but I'm absolutely loving him. He rocks. Some seriously hilarious stuff peppered with some awfully poignant and sad moments.

For example:

Missed

out of work
divorced
usually pissed.

he aimed
low in life
and
missed.

Vegetarians

Vegetarians are cruel, unthinking people.
Everybody knows that a carrot screams when grated.
That a peach bleeds when torn apart.
Do you believe an orange insensitive
to thumbs gouging out its flesh?
That tomatoes spill their brains painlessly?
Potatoes, skinned alive and boiled,
the soil's little lobsters.
Don't tell me it doesn't hurt
when peas are ripped from the scrotum,
the hide flayed off sprouts,
cabbage shredded, onions beheaded.

Throw in the towel
and lay down the hoe.
Mow no more
Let my people go!

May Ball

The evening lay before us
like her silken dress
arranged carefully over the bed.
It would be a night to remember.
We would speak of it often
in years to come. There would
be good food and wine,
cabaret, and music to dance to.
How we'd dance.
How we'd laugh.
We would kiss indiscreetly,
and what are lawns for
but to run barefoot across?

But the evening didn't do
what it was told.
It's the morning after now
and morningafter cold.
I don't know what went wrong
but I blame her. After all
I bought the tickets.
Of course, I make no mention,
that's not my style,
and I'll continue to write
at least for a while.
I carry her suitcase down to the hall,
our first (and her last) University Ball.

The two books that he lent me are Holiday on Death Row and Waving at Trains. I'm currently reading Sylvia Plath's The Bell Jar, which I picked up on a second-hand book stall in the market. I watched the film Sylvia the other week and found it intriguing. I'd read some of her poetry before, but wasn't so enamoured.  However, I'm loving this book, so perhaps I will try again with fresh eyes. Gedge apparently likes Ted Hughes. I have never read him, so we shall no doubt have another exchange before long.