Archive by Author

Ink, paints, and happy coincidences – Korky Paul at Children’s Day, Swindon Festival of Literature

12 May

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“What’s my name?” illustrator Korky Paul demands at Swindon Festival of Literature’s children’s day.

Bit of an ego trip for a kids’ event, thinks I (Chronicler Pete), as a barn full of youngsters yell back a response.

“Snorky?” retorts Korky in mock-indignation? “Snorky Snortle?” Then he draws and colours a Snorky Snortle in super-quick time, taking leads from the children as to what kind of nose (elephant), mouth (crocodile), arms, and legs (chicken) the fictional beast should have. Continue reading

Erotic cupcakes – Swindon Slam! in Swindon Festival of Literature

12 May

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So it was Swindon versus love tokens in the final of the 19th Swindon Slam!, on Saturday night.

Bit of a brave decision, dissing the hosting town in your bid to be crowned King of Slam. I’ll admit I quite liked Robert Garnham’s* rhyming of ‘Billie Piper’ and ‘hyper’ and comparison of Swindon to Philip Scofield. I can see where he’s coming from. But whether this counted against him or whether Tina Saderhome’s* domestic tale of love tokens was better, I’m not sure. In case you were wondering, love tokens are those things which really test a relationship – not when your spouse/daughter is kidnapped to ensure you commit a presidential assassination**, no we’re talking about leaving the toilet uncleaned after, ahem, a bowel movement: ‘I didn’t realise you’d literally leave your shit lying around’.***

And – in the bit I was there for anyway – there was *breaking news* no poetry about sex. Unless you count the erotic way cupcakes were described in one stanza, and Fozzie Bear in another (‘Wear the Hat!’). Okay, these were the two poets that slammed in the final. So, actually, if you do want to win a slam, make sure your poetry is loaded with smut.

*This spelling is probably utterly wrong.
**Sorry, been watching all eight series of 24 again.
***This is an appalling paraphrase.

Words by Louisa Davison. Photos by Calyx Pictures.

Engaging our brains with Swindon Philosophical Society – Nick Cohen and Stefan Collini at Swindon Festival of Literature

10 May

On Monday, the Swindon Festival of Literature was encouraging me to walk or run. By Friday, they’re asking me to think too. What else do they want… blood?

The annual takeover of a LitFest night by Swindon Philosophical Society brings us two guest authors, whose books resonate with me for very different reasons. Continue reading

DON’T PANIC – David Pearson at the Swindon Festival of Literature

8 May
David Pearson at Swindon Central Library

David Pearson at Swindon Central Library

Is this the end of physical books? This was one of the questions posed by the Director of Culture, Heritage and Libraries for the City of London, David Pearson, tonight at Swindon Central Library. If it is, don’t panic! said Swindon Festival of Literature Director, Matt Holland. The future is bright, but it may be electronic, not printed. Continue reading

Philip Lymbery and Laurens de Groot, Swindon Festival of Literature

6 May

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Danger, murder, anarchy and Hollywood-style celebrity – the audience was in for a roller coaster ride at this evening’s Swindon Festival of Literature events at Swindon Arts Centre. And an unexpected endorsement for fast food chain, McDonalds. Continue reading

Wildflower Story Hunt, Swindon Festival of Literature

6 May

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Or: blowing flowers up with TNT.

Following in the footsteps of one of Swindon’s eminent writers and Victorian naturalist, Richard Jefferies; Milo, Sydney and I hunted for wildflowers and their stories, planted potatoes and peas and ate cream teas. Continue reading

Dawn Chorus, Swindon Festival of Literature

5 May

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Apparently there are plenty of morning people in Swindon. Or maybe, like me, they like the Dawn Chorus so much that they forgive the early rise. Or maybe, just once in a while, it’s great to make the effort and see the early May mist, hear the joy of the birds as they wake and see the day slowly easing in with a beautiful red, stretching across the line of artfully arranged clouds. And then think, wow, Swindon can be really quite picturesque. Continue reading

Swindon Festival of Literature Launch 2014

21 Mar

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The Death Cafe. “Everyone welcome but not recommended for anyone recently bereaved.” I’m wondering if I should go to this on Monday 12 May as my cat died a few weeks ago.

She was twenty years old and this was, I’m told, a ‘good innings’. But she was part of our family for nearly half my life so our cat-lessness is making us sad.

But what’s this got to do with the launch of the twenty-first Swindon Festival of Literature, yesterday, noon, at Swindon Central Library?

Funny you should ponder. Sandwiched between Nathan Filer (The Shock of the Fall) and Kate Adie (Needs No Introduction), is the Death Cafe, a discussion about death and dying. You may partake of rich tea but perhaps not sympathy. Bring not your raw nerves; bring instead your pragmatism. Continue reading

Swindon Festival of Poetry Finale

12 Oct

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Claire Trevien. A beautifully spoken poet in holey tights. Professionalism stripped when asked to speak in French on stage. She’s been in a Best British Poetry 2013 book, so, class act. I liked Introduction to Love, which was what would happen if the rules of writing a thesis were applied to a romantic relationship. You can probably guess.

(I missed Kim Moore. Soz. Apparently she was rather good.)

Elvis McGonagall. Richly deserved one-time World Slam champion. Hilarious lefty comedic political rantings. Harpooned the Queen, Prince Charles as ‘Prince of Biscuits’, Iain Duncan Antoinette ‘Drowning in debt? Then give us a wave / Sell yourself in Poundland. Try to save / Dance as you dig your own pauper’s grave / On 53 quid a week’, and Margaret Thatcher in A bed at the Ritz. Really doesn’t like Tony Blair either. Continue reading

Bardwell O’Neil are Game – Swindon Festival of Poetry

9 Oct

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Bardwell O’Neil are Game turned out to be the perfect format for a seven year old to write poetry. Basically: a running around game, followed by writing down words about it, followed by another running around game, followed by more words, then poetic genius, followed by more running around games followed by more poetic genius. Wears me out just remembering it.

Yes, I’m probably biased because it’s my seven year old writing the genius poetry. But here’s the evidence: he’s had a story blog since he was four, loves to recount tales (and is addicted to Doctor Who and most other things that happen to be on TV), and going without his bedtime story is the ultimate punishment. However, by the time he’s sat down (what seems like the whole day) at school, and has done his homework (still getting my head around homework at his age) he doesn’t want to concentrate on any more writing.

So Sue Bardwell and Heather O’Neil, both with young sons, embarked on this experiment on Sunday (Broadgreen Community Centre at the Swindon Festival of Poetry) to get kids, boys in particular, writing poetry. So – by way of playground games such as Fruit Salad, Chains, Bulldog and What’s the Time Mr Wolf? – they get kids energised, then thinking about words associated with their actions and emotions, then writing them down into verse and stanzas. Continue reading