Some Words
Update: Julia died on Wednesday 13th April, 2005. My tribute to her is here.
Ignore the date on this post. I've backdated it so as to avoid foisting my bad poetry on the world at large.
No, this is dated 5th April 2005 (yesterday), and all came about because I read the following post on Julia Darling's blog:
"Julia in Bed Dictating To Bev
It's ten past 7 in the morning and I have just finished my cornflakes and milk which has turned out to be my favourite food after all these years. The Po sisters are playing. In the last week I have discovered so much new music through compilations people have sent over. Sharon Bailey brought me the 2004 world music concert which I was sorry I missed. A neighbour brought round Rufus Wainwright, and I have been listening to the golden oldies like John Martin and Dark Side of the Moon. The walls are covered with drawings and portraits that people have done or I've painted. Sharon has also been sorting out the cover of the new book 'Eating the Elephant and other Plays' which we both like very much. Clare Malcolm at New Writing North is sorting it all out it's ever so complicated like all books especially books of plays, it's all that proofing and stuff. It's been like an office in here looking at fonts and post card designs for the 'First aid kit for the mind' with Emma Holliday and Smart. The first aid kit will be launched mid April (very soon), hopefully you will all find out where.
Last Thursday though I hoiked myself out of bed and went with Bev, Karin Young and Jackie Kay to see the dress rehersal for the 'Manifesto for a New City' at Hexam. Although I say it myself I really loved it. Jim Kitson's acapella arrangements are blissful and I liked what it was saying as well. It went down very well with the audience on two subsequent nights. It's sad that it's not on in Newcastle, though it is showing at the Customs House and Alnwick and later at the Tron in Glasgow. Usually when my plays are on I lie on the floor and feel like icy daggers are plunging in my heart so I must have done something right. It owes a lot to Duska Heaney and Alan Lyddiard but especially Jim Kitson.
I don't think I am going to be up out of my bed again, that's a funny idea. The last two weeks I've been surrounded by love and I've had everything I could possibly need but it's really nearly time to say goodbye and I'm not afraid of death just very sad about the people I leave behind. I'm not in pain which is as they say ' a blessing'. I get a bit sick of nurses peering at me. There are several things I would really like to have gone to but I don't think it's going to happen. So can I send my thanks and best thoughts to everyone out there because it's really a very incredible world. You end up talking in cliches at this point so I'll stop before I go really doo lally."
Even though I knew something like this was vaguely in the offing, it kind of knocked me sideways to realise the end might be quite near. I've met Julia a few times. I couldn't claim to be her friend, but she's been incredibly helpful and supportive. She gave me a brilliant quote for the cover of my book, responded enthusiastically to my many emails, and has been generally inspirational.
So after I read that post yesterday... well, it's self explanatory. It's far from great, but it's what popped into my head at the time:
Some Words
This morning
I read your blog
You were saying
(Really)
(Nearly)
Goodbye.
I left my desk
Cried a lot
In the company loo.
Later on, I read your poetry
Over lunch
(Soup, with beans in)
(And half a grapefruit)
The sun was shining
So I walked out
Went to Thornton's
Bought my favourite
Chocolate
Continental, in a bag
And some toffee cakes
Because they looked nice.
Altrincham didn't.
So I drove up the road
Looking
For a place to sit
"No parking here.
No really, we mean it.
We'll clamp you."
Lots of trees
And lots of land
But all of it
Private.
I found a church
I'm sitting outside
The Pope died this week.
This churchyard
Is surprisingly ugly.
I wonder
How many others
Today
Are having quiet
little
Julia moments.
The sun's come out
again
The cakes are
delicious
Your poetry
is on my knee
Apparently incidental
Fleeting
Were the moments
Your life touched mine
But your words
And your presence
And your life
Made a difference
To me.
So.
Thankyou.
That's all.
Thankyou.
Ignore the date on this post. I've backdated it so as to avoid foisting my bad poetry on the world at large.
No, this is dated 5th April 2005 (yesterday), and all came about because I read the following post on Julia Darling's blog:
"Julia in Bed Dictating To Bev
It's ten past 7 in the morning and I have just finished my cornflakes and milk which has turned out to be my favourite food after all these years. The Po sisters are playing. In the last week I have discovered so much new music through compilations people have sent over. Sharon Bailey brought me the 2004 world music concert which I was sorry I missed. A neighbour brought round Rufus Wainwright, and I have been listening to the golden oldies like John Martin and Dark Side of the Moon. The walls are covered with drawings and portraits that people have done or I've painted. Sharon has also been sorting out the cover of the new book 'Eating the Elephant and other Plays' which we both like very much. Clare Malcolm at New Writing North is sorting it all out it's ever so complicated like all books especially books of plays, it's all that proofing and stuff. It's been like an office in here looking at fonts and post card designs for the 'First aid kit for the mind' with Emma Holliday and Smart. The first aid kit will be launched mid April (very soon), hopefully you will all find out where.
Last Thursday though I hoiked myself out of bed and went with Bev, Karin Young and Jackie Kay to see the dress rehersal for the 'Manifesto for a New City' at Hexam. Although I say it myself I really loved it. Jim Kitson's acapella arrangements are blissful and I liked what it was saying as well. It went down very well with the audience on two subsequent nights. It's sad that it's not on in Newcastle, though it is showing at the Customs House and Alnwick and later at the Tron in Glasgow. Usually when my plays are on I lie on the floor and feel like icy daggers are plunging in my heart so I must have done something right. It owes a lot to Duska Heaney and Alan Lyddiard but especially Jim Kitson.
I don't think I am going to be up out of my bed again, that's a funny idea. The last two weeks I've been surrounded by love and I've had everything I could possibly need but it's really nearly time to say goodbye and I'm not afraid of death just very sad about the people I leave behind. I'm not in pain which is as they say ' a blessing'. I get a bit sick of nurses peering at me. There are several things I would really like to have gone to but I don't think it's going to happen. So can I send my thanks and best thoughts to everyone out there because it's really a very incredible world. You end up talking in cliches at this point so I'll stop before I go really doo lally."
Even though I knew something like this was vaguely in the offing, it kind of knocked me sideways to realise the end might be quite near. I've met Julia a few times. I couldn't claim to be her friend, but she's been incredibly helpful and supportive. She gave me a brilliant quote for the cover of my book, responded enthusiastically to my many emails, and has been generally inspirational.
So after I read that post yesterday... well, it's self explanatory. It's far from great, but it's what popped into my head at the time:
Some Words
This morning
I read your blog
You were saying
(Really)
(Nearly)
Goodbye.
I left my desk
Cried a lot
In the company loo.
Later on, I read your poetry
Over lunch
(Soup, with beans in)
(And half a grapefruit)
The sun was shining
So I walked out
Went to Thornton's
Bought my favourite
Chocolate
Continental, in a bag
And some toffee cakes
Because they looked nice.
Altrincham didn't.
So I drove up the road
Looking
For a place to sit
"No parking here.
No really, we mean it.
We'll clamp you."
Lots of trees
And lots of land
But all of it
Private.
I found a church
I'm sitting outside
The Pope died this week.
This churchyard
Is surprisingly ugly.
I wonder
How many others
Today
Are having quiet
little
Julia moments.
The sun's come out
again
The cakes are
delicious
Your poetry
is on my knee
Apparently incidental
Fleeting
Were the moments
Your life touched mine
But your words
And your presence
And your life
Made a difference
To me.
So.
Thankyou.
That's all.
Thankyou.