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Just a chat about my experiences really. Different to other years. Is
this the thirteenth? It was almost like I was at an alternative festival.
Back to camping again which is good cos there are lots of pals there. That is
the first weirdness though. I was showing off to Dan Webster and more so to
our good pal Louis a first time visitor about how I am world famous in Otley.
This is absolutely true. People have been known to apologise for talking to
me. Or have talked about me as if I aren’t really there. You know that thing
that happens when you are a performer, really odd this one, people say I like
you or I don’t like you. You wouldn’t
go up to some one who didn’t perform just sat in a pub and say excuse
me but no harm meant or anything but I don’t like you. Anyway I digress. I am painting a totally unreal image there, based on
just a few thousand responses, (and none of them said they didn’t like me)
the main feel is of us all being a great big band of pals. People coming up
and kissing you, acting as if no time has passed and saying this is your
baby. Not one CSA approach this year at all. Well we were a bit kind of
fringe I suppose. Dan was booked by the Junction where he often performs and
I brought the band along and we camped, but not with artists passes (Well I
did obviously cos I know the printer). So the Friday us three chaps headed
off not for concerts as such but more for jiggly jiggly. We had to put up
with each others company in the end. And even then Dan had to rugby tackle
me. But we didn’t get what we wanted well we try sometimes, it was like we
were in Otley on the wrong friday. I didn’t see anyone I knew all night.
Funny actually the people in the pubs know me. What I mean is regulars in the
pubs who haven’t anything to do with the festival who I have just seen when
I’ve been in there. I suppose 13 years of popping in a pub every year makes
it so a guy in his usual corner goes hyer Adrian. The landlady looked at me
funny though. I was squashed in a corner under the telly and she seemed to be
thinking That Adrian has cracked at last. We popped in there the next day and
I mentioned watching the boxing. She couldn’t understand how I had watched it
from under the telly. So I explained I had seen it in the reflection in a
painting opposite. This helped her to understand a lot better because she had
thought I was really keen on the art. I had been sat there staring at a print
of flowers going Yes, Go on, Nice one, Rubbish! The round up bit is actually the poems. I don’t want to repeat stuff I
have done in the past so I go through my work and tot up all the stuff I have
written since last year. I have written - wait for it - four hundred poems in
the last year. Yes four hundred poems. Two of them are good. The main thing that happened was my band turning up to do a short spot
and discovering it was just us all evening. We had had one jam together and
we ended up improvising over twenty numbers. Well it wasn’t quite just us,
there were two or three poets did a short spot and one or two even nicked the
band for a bit. Samantha and Wendy (Jane couldn’t make it) were wonderful.
But no need today that everyone could tell you that. So well in fact that the
audience kind of lifted their bums of their seats a bit when they clapped as
if to say we aren’t clapping him its them lasses we like. It’s a good job
they don’t have any material or they would be getting rid of me straight
away. Hang on - They improvise - Oh no…… PS I can’t sleep night for thinking of that Pete of Suitcase Circus
with a mouth full of ping pong balls. The man is a certifiable genius. And he
says he wants to get proactive and work with me in the future. Festival
organisers take note. Actually we did work really well together. Where did I
put that ping pong ball! |
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Adrian’s annual round up |