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Second page of Bloggs. Selling to a cold caller to Nanci Griffith

Latest News First page of Bloggs. Mid summer to the Tuesday after Michaelmas

Saturday 16th April. I feel right chipper this morning, despite the almost Dylan Thomas quantities of beer I drank yesterday. There were blackbirds to be heard in York, especially around the Minster, and Holy Trinity Goddramgate. I have develpoed the habit of whistling shave and a hair cut between my teeth at blaackbirds, and at this time of year they nearly always try and copy it. I may not sound much like a blackbird to humans, but like enough of one to aggressive male blackbirds to make them sing fight. I once did the same for lapwings at Manchester dock.
Friday 15th April. The last few minutes. I have just come home after a stonking day in York. I went to see Nanci Griffith, who had me blubbing at the back, and I made her laugh, when she announced that Clive Gregson had written I love this town about Skelmersdale, and I asked loudly it he'd ever been. He said 'Oh yes.' Twice! I once slept in a bed of nettles outside Ormskirk, because of the way Ormkirk was to me, and because all the people in Ormskirk despised Skelmersdale, I have always thought: Good for Skelmersdale. The only shame of today was i had to leave the concert before the end, just after Nanci sang The last train home to catch the last train home. I sold a set of books to a Scotsman at the gig, who had got a free ticket off Nanci, at discount. He would not pay ful price, but he did tell me off an aspect of red haired women, based on his experience, I may use one day.
I had a good, beer fuelled, wonder around York. If you like the city, or good books, get a copy of The Snickleways of York, by Mark W. Jones. I had fallen in love with the back ways of York before I saw the book, but the book fitted what I felt and told me things I would never have known. . I know the walks from walking them many times, but I used the book today for the first time in, maybe, 15 years, and using it today I realised how much I own to it, and not just because of the fact the text is hand written, as is much of Walburgas forgetting - forgiving.
I was close to selling to others. Dave and Victoria from Calafonia, and the the flame haired, in the right light, Nicola of Scotland, in the Last Drop inn.
It is Saturday morn, and my synapses are sparking. I spent most of last week creating an application for a Visiting Poetry Fellowship at Cambridge University. If they want an academic poet to fit an Eng Lit mind set: I have lest than no chance. If they want to take risks with potential, I have a chance.
Tuesday 12th April. Evening All the blogs I have done for the last fortnight are on the Red Book page, on account of the book taking over almost my entire life. What time I had was not going to be spent still in front of this blessed computer. The book is going ok. Not massive sales, but I should make a profit, even allowing for the contributions to Wayne Jacobs' testimonal fund. I am starting to think about normal things, like the state of the garden.
Thursday 31st Mar. Evening Sorry for the big gap, but things have been fraught with the new book.

Tuesday 22nd Mar. Evening Today I finished writing the new scientific stuff for the New Wayne Jacobs Little Red Head Book. It has scientific revelations never before published in a popular book, and at least 2 new theories. I also asked permission of the litrary agents of the J.B. Priestley estate to use a quote. I thought I had left it too late and would not get an answer for weeks, but Jim Gill, of P.F.D gave permission in under two hours! I also tried to chase up two possible jobs!
Sunday 20th Mar. Evening I am drinking wine and listening to Nick Drake's Pink Moon. Drake is one of the many things I owe John Peel for, but this is only the second or third time I have listened to this album. I found it just too painful, but what you feel is rarely more than relative, and I am grateful my relatives have always tried to be better than they were.
I heard Beth Neilson Chapman last hight on the Bob Harris show and was gobsmacked. Years ago I saw ballet for the first time, and a week later I saw the Ukrainian National Ensemble in the week that Ukraine became independent. Everything at the ballet was perfect. Everything the Ukrainians did felt like they were dancing at the edge of disaster because joy kept them safe, and it made me join the joy of a carborundum cut step in humanity's stumbling climb. I felt something of the joy of someone flinging care to the wind listening to Beth Neilson Chapman. Writing that I have got all misty eyed about that weekend in 92 when the Ukraine became free, and not just because they were selling Ukrainian vodka at 5 pounds a bottle, and only giving painted wooden eggs as change. I saw the show twice and sang their national anthem the second time. At the end of the show a home made Ukrainian flag was lowered from the flys of the Alhambra. Blue above, gold below. Sky and wheat and a country still with a sense of it's own humanity, despite a century when it was made the supulchre of more bones than could counted by human thought, or or ever envisage by humane mind.

Saturday 19th Mar. Morning After writing the below blog on Wednesday I got to thinking about the Bradford Fire, because of something in the autobiography about the children of W.W.II being scarred by the war so as not to be shocked by death. I was at Valley Parade on 11th May 1985. I have hardly ever revisited the memories, but did on Wednesday, and wrote prose about it for the first time, which was deep but emotionally fraught. Everything I wrote vanished just before I posted it. Having written it I may leave it at that.

A brilliant thing happened on Thursday. Someone I did not know bought a Walburgas forgetting-forgiving. In fact the charming and intelligent Jenny of St Albans bought two! She is also involved with a reading group, and I have already worked out the cheapest way to get to St Albans if they fancy studying a modern poet, or me for that matter. St Albans reminded me of one of the few words I knew on Call My Bluff. 'Grimshawed' - To pay for a church to be restored, then destroy most of the good things it had by insisting on things being done on the sole basis of knowing nothing, apart from what you like. St Albans' cathedral has a hideous window made up ot circles in the relative size of the Victorian coins of the realm. I bet Mr Grimshaw was hugging himself when he thought of that.
I went to a good English Chamber Orchestra and John Williams gig last night, thanks to a free ticket from the Beaumont's. It was a good concert, even given the cougher in the TB Seats right behind us. Once she started coughing for England the rest joined in, but she only did it during the quiet guitar bits. She hardly bothered doing it during the Haydn.

Wednesday 16th Mar. As a break from posting messages trying to find more red headed footballers I did a web search for the Battalion Anti Tank gun, having a Britains model of it as a child. I still have not come across a good site, but have learnt about the People's Liberation Army's anti tank guns, and come across an wonderful autobiography giving a true story of farm life in the 50's here.
I had a long chat, on the phone, with Wayne Jacobs earlier today. He told me of the red headedness in his family, and it will help me to re-write the scincentific part of The New Wayne Jacobs Little Red Head Book.

Sunday 13th Mar. Spent a very good day at the Priestley Centre, renamed thanks to me and one other mad person. I was there to join a celebration of the wedding of Brian and Cathleen. The first drink was free and after that it was a half price bar. I drank very little me, and while we are telling stories I would like to tell you that I am tall, good looking, and with a full head of hair, as anyone who has not seen me may vouch for. Do not believe any pictures you may see on this site, cameras are known to lie. Best thing about the day was that: I sold books! Thank you David and Dorothy, Sophie, and Sue of Clayton. the biggest thank you goes to Daniel, who is 11, but has more critical sense than most adults, and bullied his dad into buying a Walburga forgetting-forgiving. Modern youth? It is marvellous. At least it is as long as at least one of it recognises a quality book when they see it. I also did more pre-sale of The Wayne Jacobs Little Red Head Book, so that has edged closer to being born. While I am Mister web dj! Big hello to Fiona from Mallaig. I would buy my book now Fiona. In years to come it will be worth pence!
Thursday 10th Mar. I have spent all day working on the web site to try and get it up to the requirements of a web ring I want to join. They insist on more than 10 original poems, so in the last two days I have posted 7 poems on the site, all the ones with pictures in at least 2 version so they can read with an OCR, and I wrote the last of the seven A sack of salt tonight because that seemed to be much easier work than scanning, resizing and writing out another bloody poem. I could murder a drink now but this is my dry day this week, although it may turn into a dry 3/4 day. I would be grateful of some feed back on the new stuff, especially if you go in via Find Poetry
I nearly lost all my site's images yesterday, probably due to a malicious jave script from another web ring link, and I had a hard time at the dole office, but that has not got me down, or downer.

Wednesday 9th Mar. . I have spent more time on this site over the last few days than I have since the first month. I have also been spending time trying to get links from and to other sites. There have been problems though. Today I thought I had lost all the images, thanks to web ring I joined. If my web builder was not a good mate I might have lost the lot, and been tempted to try and find a bus on Bradford's Manchester Road bus lane to throw myself under, which would have been like trying to find a drink on an old Welsh Sunday, if you only spoke english.
The massive imcrease in the cost of producing a new edition of The Wayne Jacobs Little Red Head Book has not not made me happy. The total cost has gone up by 50 percent, but I had pre sales and sponsorship. Now the uncovered cost has doubled. I almost certainly will pay it. The book may be noticed in the ways Walburgas forgetting - forgiving has not, and that may make a difference to my future, rather than giving me a boring story of past triumphs. If I give up on it I will find it hard bothering with much else. Not that I mean to sound like a poet wallowing in misery, that position is filled by many others.
Sunday 6th Mar. Jenny, takes good photos, and Roger, master web builder, Beaumont came round for dinner today. Jenny took pictures of some of my jumpers, so the My mother's knits pages gets closer. Roger tried to figure out why I am having such a hard time with Mac OS X and the internet. Coz it is 'proper crop' is close to the general opinion. I can hear linex calling to me. Dinner was good, and not just because of the three bottles of my home made wine, the contents of which I had little clue about.
Saturday 5th Mar. The great thing about manic depression is that the manic bits can be right fun. I am singing along to a Shangri-Las CD. I have always loved them and the Critical List on Radio 2 made me put it on. Good job for the neighbours that I do not have any Paul Robson to sing along to! Loud? I set my own teeth vibrating! I want to sing in a Shangri-Las cover band. She turned around and smiled at me! You get the picture? Yes, we see. I also want to write country songs. I should be posting more pictures from the Everyman soon. The ones of me make me laugh. As does what I have put on my entry on the Find Poetry site. As the great Beachcomber wrote: A man who does not laugh at his own jokes is half strangled with beastliness!. Can you guess that I have been drinking? Nothing to do with football, honest! It's Dusty Springfield now. Not even in my fevered mind can I picture singing in a Dusty Springfield covers band.

Friday 4th Mar. Ignore what I wrote on Tuesday, I am only recovered now. What I did was as little, compared to the Nepalese lad who carries his V.C. winning grandad down and up his mountain on pension day, but it was a bit like hard work, and I reckon I had not far short of 20 kg on my back when I left the Everyman last Saturday evening. No where near as hard as emptying dustbins or digging up asphalt with a sledge hammer, and I have done both, but with a bit more mental pressure involved, or at least pressure of being mental.
I am going to spend some of the next week doing things I should have done long ago: housekeeping on this site for a start. There are lots of pages that need rewriting for a start, and I cannot remember the last time I updated my meta tags. I have also been utterly lacking in effort to get this site noticed by web users, or my poetry noticed by the poetry mags and sites. I worked out today that the biggest single group who have bought Walburgas forgetting - forgiving, apart from people I have bullied into buying, are people who work in the film and TV industry: Ben Blaine; Ken Branagh; Nic Wistreich; Pat O'Connor; Neal, and Tess, from Channel 4; and Mark Turnbull from Intrepid Films. On the other hand I am pretty certain I have only sold one book to a poet, or at least to someone admitting to be a poet, and that was to my mate Joe Ogden.

Tuesday 1st Mar. I have just about recovered from Saturday. It has been a stimulating but stressful few months, and I am immensely proud of what I have done, but I now have to do some serious thinking about what to do next. I will spend most of the next week sorting out the New Wayne Jacobs Little Red Head Book but I also have to sort myself out. With zero Walburgasweb sales in the last few months the decision to pay for them to be made, rather than making them by hand, would have been a very costly one if it were not for the grant aid I got to cover their manufacturing cost. Everything I have done since making the first handmade book has been under pinned by me thinking that successful events and increasing fame would result in at least a modest level of book sales. So far I have been utterly wrong. I always knew poetry was one of the worst selling sections of the book industry, there are lots of other things I can do to get mine noticed, and that the New Wayne Jacobs Little Red Head Book will be far easier to sell, but I clearly need to do something else, and I do not know what. What I do know is that I no longer have the excuse of organizing a big event to distract me from basic economics.
Sunday 27th Feb. I have just got back from my parents in Crawley, where I stayed the last two nights. The launch was a massive sucess by almost every measure, but it has left me physically and emotionally exhausted and spiritually drained; although I was lifted by selling a Walburgas to Adrian, a decent Man City fan, on the train from London, and also sold one on the train down to the charming and intelligent Julie, who not only paid full price but also gave me her fruit salad!
The event on Saturday was worth the time and effort, and good will come of it, but at present it has lain no concrete foundations for my future. I also have the added complication that my business account has been closed up the incompetent clown(s) at LloydsTSB despite me paying in last week, and phoning to ask for it to be kept open. This adds an other layer of complication to a compost of thin hopes and stagnant sales. I do have the Wayne Jacobs book to do, and I have some sponsorship and pre-sales for that, but I am just too tired to think of anything else.
Friday 25th Feb. Walburgas Day with my big day tomorrow. See you at the Everyman tomorrow, or on here on Sunday, if I manage to get out of bed.
Thursday 24th Feb. Sorry for not posting earlier in the week, but things are getting a little strained, or rather, I am getting a little strained by things.
The article in the Telegraph on Monday was wonderful, but I have not sold a single book because of it, and that is a blow to my morale, and a much harder blow to my finance. I am obviously not doing this for money, but if nobody buys a book after half a page in Britiain's biggest selling broadsheet, will anyone ever buy a book if I am not stood in front of them?
The news for Saturday's event is positive. Both the director, Pat O'Connor, and producer, Kenneth Trodd, of A Month in the Country will be there, and Pat will probably be bringing Colin Firth. I have told very few people this, and have not used it to sell the story to any paper. None of the three will get up to speak, they are simply coming because they remember the film and J.L.Carr with affection, at least they will be if they manage to buy a ticket in time. It will be a special event for all sorts of reasons, most of which I will be surprised by. I will fly, unless I am run over by a bus, and I have organised it so it will happen even if I get run down by a Routemaster. Buying my book will help me take off again after it is all over.
Sunday 20th Feb. I forgot to mention that I came back to find a letter from the book wholesaler that Waterstone's use to confirm my application to register has been sucessful. I spent a lot of today building a point of sale display stand out of scrap for Waterstones in Hampstead High St to use, they have already agreed to stock Walburgas. If I am lucky they will have them before Saturday. The stand is going to look wonderful when I have finished.
I am getting nervous about being in the Daily Telegraph tomorrow, not about what it will say, but about the potential rush of orders. Next week will be busy.
Saturday 19th Feb. I got back from my latest London trip early this afternoon. Unfortunately I went straight out again to watch Bradford City, and that has left me almost giddy with tiredness, and there is no beer involved, yet.
I went down to sort out the details for next Saturday with the Everyman. It was a productive and enjoyable meeting and left me confident it will be a really good event.
On top of a good meeting I also managed to sell books! One to Bas and Aurora in the Holly Bush, and another to Joanne on the train this morning. After Bas paid for his he opened it and said: 'I've not bought a poetry book have I!?' Joanne is an impressionistic photographer, and despite her arguing about the price of the book she did pay cash, so I invite you to check her out.
16th Feb. I did a live radio show last night for BCB. It was Joe Ogden's ACT Now show. It was repeated today at 1.30 pm on BCB96.7 fm in Bradford, unfortunately you cannot hear the station on the internet at the moment so there is no point in listening here.
Sunday 13th Feb. I have been to Mansfield to stop a few nights with my mate, Matt. If a change is as good as a rest I have had a right rest. I watched the rugby internationals for the first time in about twenty years, and just watching tv is a out of the ordinary for me. I drew two pictures, while I was out, for the new Wayne Jacobs Red Head Book. I did Hillsborough on the way; and Millmore on the way back. The Hillsborough one was fine, but there was a bitter wind in Rotherham this morning, which forced me to stop before I had finished the picture because I could not draw a straight line, but I have spent most of this evening pasting parts of what I sketched and have made make a reasonable picture.
Tuesday 8th Feb. Today I delivered by second job application in two days, this one for a One Book Project officer. If you have experience of, or know anything aout, One Book projects I would really like to hear from you.
I have also been trying to do the Walburgas 05 card. I have finished the poem but am struggling with the picture. I will post a version on the home page when I have done.
I have just got an e-mail from Hilary Witney saying that she had finished her article about me and sent it off, so I am guessing it will be in this Saturdays Daily Telegraph arts review.
Friday 4th Feb. Sorry about the lack of activity, but I have had another snotting cold. I have also been trying to write a job application for a short contract poet in South Yorkshire. The new City Gent will be on sale tomorrow.
Monday 31st Jan. I have discovered a new way of dealing with cold callers. Rather than just putting the phone down, or shouting, I now hold the phone at arms length and start singing Old Man River as deep and as loud as I can. If they are still listening when the phone reaches my face it is not as if I have not given them time to escape.
Saturday 29th Jan, late. I have just got back from a mavellous day trip to Hull. I went to draw a picture to use in the printed edition of the Wayne Jacobs Little Red Head Book, and I did a good one from the old ferry pier, but even better was the beer and the talking. Cheers to all the nice people I met, especially the lovely young couple on the train, the two blokes in the Minerva, and especially Janet in the museum. Thanks, especially if this prompts any of you to buy a book! The best part of the night was watching the road outside the station being dug up for in the long wait for my train. They had a machine that made Thunderbirds Crab-logger look simple, two dumpers collecting the scree off the bit convayor belt, and 5 other machines doing different jobs at the same time. It was like a ballet, apart from not being boring, not having any pauses for people to clap something they were paid to do anyway, and being a proper job, not something that makes most folk wonder if they are the only one who thinks 'This is pointless!'; and I have seen Billy Elliot. Sounding Brass is a much better film.
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Wednesday 26th Jan. I have just got back from a Shipley Bantams (soon to be renamed the Idle Bantams) supporters club do. Wayne Jacobs and Lee Duxbury were the guests. I was an excellent night for anyone interested in Bradford City, and a good night for anyone who just wanted to learn more about life. I talked to both players. Lee is playing for Farsley Celtic now and I will be going there soon. You can watch the game from the clubhouse and drink beer at the same time!
Wayne urged everyone to stick together behind Bradford City, despite being told last week that he was not wanted. A good footballer and a good man. This has made me more determined to produce a new Wayne Jacobs Little Red Head Book.
I meant to post a blog on Burns Night, but had my own Burns supper, with haggis and whisky and me doing bagpipe impressions and quoting the poetry. A flipping good time was had by all!
Saturday 22th Jan, or early the next morn. I went out seeking a band. 3 pubs later I found one called 3 daze lost and had a stonking time. Black Sabbath, AC/DC and the Ramones. I was in head banging heaven. I talked to the band and had a good time.
Lazy Sunday afternoon, got no time to worry! Close my eyes and drift away.
That is what I intend to have, even if I am desperately trying to think about something to write about Blackpool for the next City Gent.
Friday 21th Jan. Wiping out all the blogs on here from late October to last week, which I did Tuesday, upset me, although I accept pride went before the fall. Those blogs have gone forever, so are now officially The best thing Glyn Watkins ever wrote!
I had a near perfect day today. I sold the last of The Wayne Jacobs handmade Little Red Head Book's that I have made so far, and one I have not made yet. An analysis of the selling costs from this site show I cannot afford to sell for five pounds and give a pound to Wayne's testimonial, and if I cannot give a pound a sale I do not think I will bother to make any more, especially since Bradford City has seemingly told him his career is over. The least I will do is add 75p to the web price, the most is pay for a printed version and try and sell a thousand of them.
This morning I went to Shipley Print, who did Walburgas forgetting - forgiving, to ask for a quote. I can afford to pay for 1000, which would be the minimum order, but have to face up to the fact that I might not sell 50 and would have to carry the cost.
After shipley print, which is in Hirst Wood, Saltaire, I went for a glorious walk along the canal. I saw a rainbow in the water falling over the bottom gate on the Three Rise Lock, and at least a dozen different birds, some eating, some fighting, some singing; a few doing all three. I had already arranged to meet web builder Roger and his dogs on the tow path and we went to The Marquis of Granby in East Riddlesden. A cracking pub with perfectly kept beer. I downed my first pint of Green Label in one. It is not a party piece, I have only ever done it when I have been walking and am dehydrated, but it is nice to be able to do it still.
Next to the pub was a greengrocers, which are rarer than independent book shops now-a-days. They had first class veg and I went on a buying frenzy, some of which has been tranformed into one of the best curries I have done. The only disappointment was the chilli. If it is hot for East Riddlesden then french mustard will make their eyes water.
Tuesday 18th Jan. Interview for Daily Telegraph feature. Hilary Witney is a freelance journalist who lives in Highgate and picked up my story from the press release I wrote for The Everyman. After she talked to me on the telephone she sold the story to The Daily Telegraph. She actually offered to come to Bradford to interview me, but I had to visit The Everyman anyway to sort out details of the event, and suggested it would be better for her and the event to do it there.
The interview was a joy. Hilary seemed not only kind and complimentary, but also genuinely interested in my stories. She may write a story that says that I am an idiot. That would hurt, but I may talk like an idiot in the ears of many. Whatever she writes will not detract from the fact that she bought both my books at full price and bought A Month in the Country and Carr's biography.
Before the interview I spent half an hour being photographed by a freelance called Steff. It may sound glamourous but while there was plenty of bare flesh, it was all above the neck line, and seeing we are talking about my neck I cannot imagine many pulses racing at the result, unless it's from the effort of instinctively going: 'Oyy!' And dropping the paper to shield the eyes. The most enjoyable shot was the arm coming from behind the curtain, in the tradition of the great Eric Morecambe. It made Steff laugh, but he did not think the Telegraph
would use it.
Later. I got to Crawley thanks to Matt, and I will write a thank you tomorrow, or scrub this sentence. My ethonol balance is well risen on the positive scale. At no point during the evenening have I climbed on an armchair and shouted: 'I am a God!' Which is good. For a start it would be untrue, and I would probably have broken something in the attempt, moreover something reasonable important, like me, although saying that the god, or goddess, of guileless drunkards has wrapped me in a beer airbag many times, for which I am thankful.
Thurs 13th Jan. I have just had a very pleasent conversation with Julie Abbot, from a power supplier's call centre. If you buy a book Julie I will tell them which one!
Wey-hey!! Julie has just bought a book! She works for nPower. I will now be doing a serious price comparison to see if I should transfer my account back to her company.
Later. Julie and the Npower For God's sake make them stay with us or our profit will drop to seven figures! team work in Peterlee. I looked the place up in a book Bradford Central Library got rid of without replacement. Peterlee is a new town named after a NUM leader who learnt maths when he was an adult by sitting in an infants class, and who not only pulled himself up by his own boot laces but also lived his life with a sense of dignity that is as rare today as a household without a television. If I did not have Durham by Athur Mee, I would never have known that. A web search for Peter Lee gave me nothing but us A massive chunk of this blog was lost whilst uploading & is now the best thing I've writeen