Michaela Ridgway introducing the last Pighog night of the season, with a really funny diatribe about the moon being egg shaped. The father of one of the open micers, an astro-physicist had challenged her assumption it was round last time, so naturally Michaela being Michaela had gone on the NASA website to check her facts, completing her findings with a demo and a bouncing egg!
Tonight however we had two brilliant poets doing two sets each, as well as some open micers two of which had not performed before. Well done them.
Beth Somerford described by Don Barnard as one who ‘writes on that fine line between the clear-eyed and the lyrical where imagination thrives’. lived up to her reputation with a delightful set from her new pamphlet. She has also written a book as an antidote to all Management Training books, with a whole range of poems to illustrate the chapters.
V.G. Lee’s poetry appears in magazines and in ‘Oysters and Pearls’, which publishes poems by gay men and women. She writes humorous pieces for ‘The Lady’ magazine and is the author of four novels and a collection of short stories.
Brilliant timing for her intros she tells us she once wrote awful poetry in the early days… some of which she has brought along tonight! Warm and wonderful don’t miss her if she comes to a venue near you!
In my haste I also lost my notes and had to miss the poem Michaesl had organised to be written with a line from each table! Hope it will go on the Pighog facebook page!
No more until the last Thursday in February, when we have the wonderful poet Ann-Marie Fyfe and her partner a poet and musician performing. Ann-Marie runs the Poetry Nights at the Troubadour Cafe in Brompton Road, London she is an established poet with several poetry books prizes to her name.
Happy Days and see you in February. The Red Roaster Coffee House. Doors open at 7.45 Entrance a mere fiver and three for concessions and not forgetting the open mic spots.
Stop press – Just arrived and added to post, the poem Michaela encouraged the audience to write last Thursday
The light like grainy pear breaking through bleary-eyed mornings misty chimneys, beyond grey waves. It’s just so hard to see tomorrow past tonight. Let’s go to the echo room before it’s too late. Let’s kiss into the last noise go rampant, forget poise be ourselves until our shoulders hurt and never stop squeezing the juice. – by the Audience.