Anne-Marie Fyfe - Tuesday 27th November
Our next event is on 27th November at The Punter with the Irish poet Anne-Marie Fyfe -- doors 7.30pm reading 8pm including open mic floor spots. More details and programme for the remainder of the year to follow shortly. Our events are generally held on the fourth Tuesday of each month at The Punter.
The Fugitives - Friday 9th November
** SOLD OUT ** Canadian music and poetry fusion sensation The Fugitives are performing for free, yes FREE, at the Judith E Wilson Drama Studio in the Faculty of English, 9 West Road, Cambridge CB3 9DP, Friday 9th November 8pm. Ensure you get in by sending us an email to reserve place(s)... email@example.com
'One of the best events we’ve ever had…right up there with Allen Ginsberg and Ken Kesey' Executive Director, Dylan Thomas Festival
The Fugitives website
Alan Buckley and Lydia Macpherson - Tuesday 16th October - Enjoyed by All
Alan Buckley moved from Merseyside to Oxford in the 1980s to study English Literature and has lived there ever since. His pamphlet ‘Shiver’ (tall-lighthouse) was a Poetry Book Society choice for summer 2009.
'Alan Buckley’s writing is alive with the need to understand. These poems are like x-rays which see through the surfaces of things and “guess their way around the unthinkable dark”' Jean Sprackland
He has won first prize in the Wigtown Poetry Competition, been commended twice in the Bridport Prize, and was shortlisted for the inaugural Picador Poetry Prize. He works for the charity First Story as a writer in residence at a local secondary school.
'Buckley reveals himself to be a gutsy poet, taking on shifts in culture, time and human sexuality in one fell swoop' Kathryn Gray, Magma
Lydia Macpherson was born and brought up on a moor in Yorkshire. She now lives in a village near Cambridge. Poems have appeared in lots of magazines and she has been placed or commended in several competitions. She was nominated for the inaugural Faber New Poets Scheme. She has an MA with Distinction in Creative Writing from Royal Holloway University of London.
Tuesday 16th October, The Punter, Open Mic floor spots, books for sale. Doors 7.30pm Readings 8pm. Tickets on the door only, £5/£4.
I use it partly through stubborn nostalgia, the kind that draws me to a red phone box when I see one, despite the slim Nokia tucked in my pocket. It’s not the website’s gloss, its bold promise of waking fully refreshed at my destination; no bed can give you that, once you’re past twenty-five. I guess there’s also the simplicity – that bijou containment, everything to hand – and the trick where you slide under the sheets, Euston grey and too familiar outside, then unclip the little blind early the following day; a plate-glass loch you can’t put a name to, the morning sky a brighter, fuller blue.
And when his father left he learned to carve, to whet the blade, worn arched and thin by years of Sunday lunch, against the steel, the Bakelite handle gentled as a bird cupped in his hand. Then, to test it on his thumb pad, drawing the finest wire of blood. Like marking former Soviet states on maps, he portioned up a steer in doodles on the fly leaves of Philip’s Modern School Atlas. On the way home, his dinner money bought a whole ox-tail, a fleshy jointed dinosaur dripping its trail through his satchel’s hide. It took a year of careful choice, getting the right cut, saving shoulder blades, ribs, hocks, wishbones standing in for all the delicate bits too hard to find. The skull was worst, a patchwork of chicken backs and Christmas turkey leavings. His father always said, “if a job’s worth doing it’s worth doing well”, and Dad would be proud, he thought, to look under the single bed and find, among the dust, the furry sweets and Lego, the bony keepsake, complete, laid out upon the shagpile.