Ducks in a row

… but not for target practice.


I went to an open mic poetry night this evening at Prosper. They got a cheeky alcohol licence specially, so I thought I’d get the train.

I got to the station in good time only to find out the train had been cancelled and the next one, which would have got me there late, was delayed. Apparently, someone had taken ill on the train; don’t they know you’re not allowed to be ill on trains, but only at stations?

After driving there instead, I went in, complained to the lovely owners about the trains, and bought a bottle of alcohol-free beer.

There was a really good turnout – Prosper was full. A lass on her own said I could join her, so I did. We got chatting – we had lots to talk about! The rest of the table filled up, then it was time to start.

I wasn’t really sure what to expect because I’d never been to such an event before. What I got was the people of Ely showing they have some proper talent, despite half of them claiming they’re not poets.

The ages of those reading ranged from seventeen to ninety, and the topics covered everything from how to write a poem to what a lovely café Prosper is; from walking the Fen Rivers Way to mental health; from politics to Grenfell Tower; from forgetfulness to Dagenham.

They’re hoping to hold them quarterly, which is good news for me because I enjoyed the evening a lot. Having said that, I seem to have roped myself into reciting a poem I wrote when I was about 15 – not because it was about a banana, but because it was about an orange.