I started in on the new book today. The page margins are the same as Laughter To Split Glass. I've pulled about 40 pages of poems into a file and have a load more to gather up. Then I'll do a big printout and see if I can arrange them into a preliminary running order. I could only manage about four hours because my head started to hurt. I watched some ace bike trials videos this evening. I didn't even get the rider's name, but he was using an old Onza T-Rex bike, pretty much the same set-up as brother Mark had two decades ago. Then another video, in which he was using a thirty-year-old Giant mountain bike. I nipped out for supplies, then watched Queen Live at the Rainbow while doing physio. 10.35pm.
Thursday 2nd April 2026
I was in Consett early this morning for a bank transaction and to get food supplies. I did a bit of work on Ann Porro's pamphlet this afternoon and prepped for Poetry Jam. We had a full house tonight. All the guests were ace. James Whitman took a hilarious swipe at Reform UK Limited and read a few dog-stained haiku, plus four poems about teenagers and parents. Helen Alexandra read heartfelt and hard-hitting poems about domestic abuse and survival. Bob Beagrie treated us to a phenomenal forty-minute set, including a preview of his 'Hand of Glory: A Biography' book show. The open floor jam was packed with talent, some new and familiar faces. Two of the Waddy writers read, and Helen's daughter read a poem about a soldier. Hester, Rosemary, Ivy, Kevin, lots of people, including a newcomer from one of my library events. OK. 11.14pm.
Friday 3rd April 2026
I did a couple of this year's NaPoWriMo (National Poetry Writing Month) prompts – but not today's, which was to write about an unconventional perception of a job or vocation. I'll try it in Morning Pages tomorrow. I wanted to get out on the bike, but the high wind this afternoon wasn't appealing. And the risk of rain wasn’t great either. I tried to read 'STAY FANATIC Vol. 3' by Henry Rollins but fell asleep. Chuffed to get the downstairs carpets looking a bit better. The rest of the house is a shithole. My priorities are probably all wrong. OK. 10.50pm.
Saturday 4th April 2026
Morning pages gave me two drafts from NaPoWriMo. I read a few pages of STAY FANATIC Vol. 3 by Henry Rollins, then did bicep physio with additional shoulder exercises. I wrote a new NaPoWriMo draft on the bus to Gateshead, picked up essential supplies, and went to Jen's place. Watched standard Saturday TV, then Whitechapel. It's very windy. Hope my place is okay. 11.13pm.
Sunday 5th April 2026
Up around eight. Wrote some fast-flowing prose in morning pages. Keyed in a recent NaPoWriMo poem and posted one on Facebook. Jenni and I spent a couple of hours with John and Hilary this afternoon. Then back to the attic for the snooker final – but it was too slow, not very engaging. We watched The Imitation Game. OK. 10.40pm.
Monday 6th April 2026
Morning pages are good for NaPoWriMo first drafts this year. Chuffed with my piece again today. Posted it straight to Facebook. I won't be posting every day because I want to keep some back for possible magazine submissions. A flash fiction site called Paragraph Planet popped up on Facebook today. I'd like to submit some prose fragments to that. Jenni and I went to Whitley Bay this afternoon. Got fish and chips then went to the Cooking Pot at Baba Yaga. Our first time at this spoken word night. Been wanting to get there for two years! Jenny Scott's event attracted a good variety of performers – poetry, prose and oral storytelling. Steve Lancaster read a great poem about his dislike of craft fairs and one about digital technology. Hannah, a visitor from London, did a great poem about avoiding school PE, and one about her disdain for flag shaggers. Jenni read some playful NaPoWriMo pieces. I did 'And What Do You Do For A Living?', 'Skip Rat', then 'Madge And Me And The Slippery Digits Disc Jockey'. Great night. We have both been kindly asked to headline. 0K. 11.11pm.
Tuesday 7th April 2026
So, the US Prezza is threatening to wipe out a whole civilisation tonight – and no one in American government has taken the dumb fucker out yet? Failed businessman and proven sexual abuser. Get in the fucking sea! Not fit to serve coffee, much less run a country... I had a canny NaPoWriMo-based workshop with Waddy Writers this afternoon. Only three people in, but we got through six prompts and started a seventh. I already had drafts for each day, but it was good to try again and tidy up some rough stuff. I came straight home after the workshop. I bought a steak pie in Moorside and had it with steamed veg and gravy. Tonight I've done very little. It will be interesting to see what happens tomorrow. And even if Donny doesn't do as he threatens - after all the noise around the world in opposition - he should still be taken out anyway. What total fuck-up! OK. 9.52pm.
Wednesday 8th April 2026
Warmest day of the year so far. And an opportunity to get out on the Sonder Frontier bike. I didn't clean as many sections as last time. On a stream crossing, my front wheel clipped a rock. I lost balance, resulting in a wet right foot for an hour or two. I'm limited now as to how much hopping and shunting I can do since the torn bicep but still managed to get up ledges and do the rooty hill climbs. Back home, I got my NaPoWriMo poems copied up into a notebook, most of them also typed. I wrote three poems from today's prompt. I hope I can keep going for the full month. It will give me a few more good ones as contenders for the next official poetry book. Tonight I watched Twisted Sister: Live at Wacken Metal Fest from 2004. Great stuff! Saw the band with Alice Cooper in 2005. OK. 11.46pm.
Thursday 9th April 2026
Bit of a lie-in and rusty response to the NaPoWriMo prompt; I don't have much interest in animals or plants but managed to write about a mouse. I went to Consett for groceries. Had a chicken dinner, did physio, then an early Sunderland bus to King Ink. Intended to read on the way, but fell asleep. Had a Ginsters steak bake with Greggs' spicy wedges. Then looked at DVDs and CDs in HMV in The Bridges till six o'clock. King Ink was mint tonight. I enjoyed the open mic stuff. Some really stood out for me: Pip MacDonald, David Hodgson, Steve May. There were gothic pieces, anti-war poems, stuff about hated vegetables. And of course, Aaron Wright with Erasmus Croc and Shmuck; a great headline set to launch their story collection BARK SIDE OF THE MOON. Aaron gave me a lift back to Chester-le-Street. I'm now on the 78-bus to Consett. OK. 10.49pm.
Friday 10th April 2026
Up quite late. I did today's NaPoWriMo prompt in rough in the Morning Pages. Read a bit of STAY FANATIC!!! Vol.3 by Henry Rollins. Then went out to cut the grass. It was quite an ordeal with the damaged left arm and the lawn mower that overheats and cuts out every twenty minutes or so. The grass was really long. During one of the rests, I got a private message from Ann Porro saying her son Luke has died. Such terribly sad news. Understandably, she has put her creativity on hold. It was difficult to finish the grass. Later, I tweaked some NaPoWriMo edits and made a steak and steamed veg dinner. This evening, I tried to read, but my body opted for sleep. Later, I watched Cobain - Montage of Heck and managed to stay awake all the way through. Bed soon. 10.29pm.
Saturday 11th April 2026
The NaPoWriMo prompt today was for Erasure (aka blackout) poetry. I just took lines and individual words from a bunch of songs by an 80s pop duo and tried to make something with them. I'll finish it tomorrow. Jenni is a bit under the weather today and wasn't up for Greg Chapman's Discovery of Witchcraft show at Heddon on the Wall Memorial Hall this afternoon. It was brilliant. Informative, funny, thought-provoking, and very well performed. I've eaten too much chocolate. 10.03pm.
Sunday 12th April 2026
Bit of a lie in. A bit warmer this morning. I wrote a new poem for NaPoWriMo and posted it to Facebook. Then went out to Gateshead for groceries. Lots of reduced-price bread and cold cuts. The radio was on in the attic quite a bit today, but I don't remember much of it. Tonight, the Olivier Awards were on TV. Then Krapp's Last Tape starring Harold Pinter, followed by Aidan Dunbar in a Beckett documentary. Great stuff. 10.57pm.
Monday 13th April 2026
Chilly start. Hard to get comfortable sitting on the attic floor, but I got all my pages done, including another NaPoWriMo new draft. Jenni and I watched some episodes of Inside No 9 and a bit of The League of Gentlemen. I've always found the latter quite grotesque. I walk down to Team Valley for the bus. Didn't get home until after five. I've done quite a bit of prep for the week and some number-crunching. Increased the physio weight load slightly for the first time in a while. I'm at Waddy tomorrow. 10.47pm.
Tuesday 14th April 2026
Chuffed to produce a NaPoWriMo poem without having to use a pen or key in the words – spoken directly into Messenger from my pillow, posted online by 8.30am. Felt pretty good about it all day. The session at Waddy went well. It's a freebie from me, so I'm basically running through all the NaPoWriMo prompts, seven per session for the month, to get the writers a pamphlet's worth of material each, in thirty days. Some really great drafts this afternoon. Hope I'm able to sustain momentum. I could have gone out tonight for supplies, but I wanted to stay in and have a lazy evening. I watched the Kurt Cobain documentary 'Soaked in Bleach' again. And a few more recent ones about his death. I'm not doing physio tonight. I want to turn in quite early to get a good start again tomorrow. OK. 10.17pm.
Wednesday 15th April 2026
NaPoWriMo prompt: a love poem, but not about a romantic relationship. I just riffed on generational views of popular music for a page and a half. Then out to Consett for bank transactions and supplies. I picked up a pair of black trainers in great condition for a fiver. Then bought a '200 best goth albums' magazine. It's okay but could have been better. I've heard nearly a quarter of the 200 albums. This afternoon I got a preliminary sequence of poems ready for The Smoke Room gig. I aim to make an expanded edition of a very limited-run pamphlet I did in 2015. It will contain one or two new pieces. Tonight I listened to the Nirvana album Nevermind whilst doing physio and other exercises. Rain prevented a bike ride. OK. 10.26pm.
Thursday 16th April 2026
Productive day. I got my sets pretty much sequenced for readings at The Smoke Room and was writing intros when the lineup was announced on Facebook. I'm chuffed to be doing a gig with Bedsit Manor, Your Casket or Mine, Phil Tyler and Nev Clay. I'm chuffed to have enough music-related poems to expand the Failed Rock Star pamphlet. I'll have a few runs through the sets just to be sure and will hopefully be able to reformat all the poems in a pamphlet for 9th May. This will function as a sampler in much the same way as the Prohibition pamphlet did in 2024. Tonight I listened to Lodger by David Bowie. I only recognised the single Boys Keep Swinging. There aren't enough hours in the day to go through the full back catalogues of musical legends. I'm off to bed early so I can be up sharp for Washington. OK. 10.14pm.
Friday 17th April 2026
Session at Washington went well. Five of the regulars and two newcomers. We warmed up with Absurd Words, then did a picture half-marathon. The darker images seemed to work best for most people. Big thanks to Alwyn Bathan for the lift to Gateshead. I went to Jen's place for a while, then got the X20 bus to Alnwick. A longer journey than the recommended X18, but I enjoyed the route through Amble in the early evening sunshine. I got to Alnwick Playhouse by 7.000pm. Toyah Willcox was brilliant. More stories than songs. Some of the covers were abbreviated versions, including School's Out and Enter Sandman. She answered my question about obsessive fans, the most recent being a septuagenarian who took loads of paper to sign at a Meet and Greet in Scarborough last night. I spoke briefly to technician John Greenacre afterwards. Got to Alnmouth train station okay, but my train is delayed by almost an hour. Jenni has kept me updated via mobile from the attic. I'm now due onboard at two minutes to midnight. Hey, Iron Maiden song. OK. 11:52pm.
NaPoWriMo 2026 Day Twenty-Six
WELL NOW, PHILIP
Rhyme time
A few complaints
One poem in particular
Not exactly Incy Wincy Spider
Anti-family lectures
Down the student union, perhaps
But not the sort of thing we
Encourage for toddlers
We want Wheels on the Bus
We want Jack and Jill
Not some cod psychology
The language from the outset
Mrs Thompson nearly had a coronary
We thought a proper poet would be a treat
But not this crude misery
And rumour has it
You're also a bit of a racist
As far as this library is concerned
Keep your mean-spirited
Verse away from decent folk
Go on, that's all
Cheque's in the post
Saturday 18th April 2026
Not much done today. I listened to some Toyah tracks. My ears are okay. I went to Gateshead for supplies. Then tried to attend a writing workshop, but the venue was deserted. Must have been cancelled. Banana on peshwari naan for tea. I wrote up my trip to Alnwick as an antiquated epic poem for National Poetry Writing Month. Checked out the new Toyah book, Meteorite, but it's very expensive. Washed a load of crockery whilst Jenni was out. Scrolled and slept. 0K. 10.17pm.
Sunday 19th April 2026
Big lie in. Jenni and I had a huge Sunday dinner delivered from Toby Carvery. A bit too expensive for my liking, but the meal was nice. We watched a horror film called Never Let Go starring Halle Berry. Then a bizarrely entertaining 'It Couldn't Happen Here' starring The Pet Shop Boys. I got the 47-bus via Chopwell back to Consett tonight and walked down to Moorside, narrowly avoiding a toilet accident. 0K. 11.50pm.
Monday 20th April 2026
Long day, mostly working downstairs at the drop-leaf table on copy-ups and edits of recent NaPoWriMo efforts. Some of the prompts and examples are stupidly long and really fucking annoying. But I've attempted them – albeit with a rather cavalier approach to the flower dictionary request and anything involving animals. This evening I made a mock-up pamphlet of my forthcoming sets for The Smoke Room, but I don't think the font is right. It was great for Letting The Minimalism Slip, but maybe the next one should look less like a seventies small press pamphlet. Maybe something glossy. Computer updates slowed me down, but I got the Waddy paperwork done. OK. 11.53pm.
Tuesday 21st April 2026
Great day. The Waddy session went well. Just another NaPoWriMo freebie workshop with a couple of the regular participants, but a good opportunity for those without internet access to have a crack at prompts from the last seven days. Afterwards, I tweaked the sampler pamphlet for the upcoming gigs. Had some lush bacon and mushroom sandwiches for tea at Waddy, watched a few Brian May clips online, then walked up to Redhills Hall with Jenni, Hilary and David (Rutherford). Bob Beagrie's Hand of Glory poetry show was brilliant. Musical backing, great performance. Will need to check the book to jog my memory. Strong open mic from a bunch of top North East talent. Fell asleep on the bus back to Moorside. OK. 11.46pm.
Wednesday 22nd April 2026
Lights blazing towards midnight. Cup of squash untouched. Ears fizzing. Computer whirring, whirring, whirring. Feet numb. Stuck to the spot. Eyes glued to the screen, fingers tapping keys, shifting shapes, moving words and images. It can only mean... I'm busy on a book cover. Really chuffed with tonight's design for FAILED ROCK STAR. I think I'm going to run with it. I reckon it could be good to go next week. 0K. 11.57pm.
Thursday 23rd April 2026
It's all trial and error. It's good to get the buzz from a white-heat first draft and want to push it to completion. But rarely do you complete it straight away. Still, it doesn't stop you some days thinking a piece of work is ready and okay to post online. Then five minutes later, you spot a glaring error. You fix it, hoping no one saw. Then repost. And an hour later, another line needs attention. The fear of being called incompetent makes you revise stuff. In the old days, these drafts would go in an envelope, sit in a slush pile for weeks. Then, understandably get rejected. More from that idiot in County Durham! But putting a piece on social media makes you conscientious. It's good to trial and error. No one wants to look incompetent. Letting others see works-in-progress often makes you work harder. Well, it does with me anyway. 11.55pm.
Friday 24th April 2026
Didn't get to Waddy till one o'clock. I sorted a copy of my little sampler pamphlet. It could do with a sharper font, but I should be able to fix it. I got a 21-bus to Newcastle and slept most of the way. Got a steak pie from Tesco and spicy wedges from Greggs for tea. Then the 10-bus to Hexham. Had a great time at Quillseekers. Cat Bell was brilliant. Two sets with a mix of hilarious and hard-hitting poems. And lots of great open floor readings, including Steve Wood. Aaron Wright. James Oates, David Rutherford, amongst others. It was great. I read four pieces: The Dark House, Macy Gray, Villanelle? and Kate Bush. Many thanks to Aaron Wright for the lift back to Gateshead. 11.27pm.
Saturday 25th April 2026
Slow start. My device wouldn't let me look at today’s NaPoWriMo example poem, so I struggled. I hate being asked to write metaphors on demand. Jenni and I went to see The Ballad of Wallis Island at Tyneside Cinema with a Q&A from Tim Key. Great afternoon. Supplies in Tesco. Then BGT and The Madness of King George. Chicken, hot cross buns. Ordered an out-of-print Behemoth book that is often listed for over one hundred pounds, but mine was twenty plus postage from a Liverpool Oxfam shop. OK. 10.44pm.
Sunday 26th April 2026
NaPoWriMo 2026 Day Twenty-Six
ANOTHER STAB AT A PROSE POEM IN SEARCH OF A DEFINITION OF ITSELF
(With Apologies to Brian Patten for vaguely recalling his title)
Once again, the daily National Poetry Writing Month prompt seems to be chosen deliberately to match a poem I've recently written or read from my back catalogue, thus making it impossible to write another of equal calibre. The same water doesn't flow in the same stretch of river twice over. Any subsequent attempt on my part will be but a pale imitation of the first.
Ars Poetica? What is poetry? Why, to me poetry is whatever it wants to be. Of course this includes chopped-up prose, lacking rhythm, metaphor, simile, imagery. A three-line joke, an excuse to poke and pry, hang dirty linen out to the astonished eye, put a little bit of life under the microscope, but hopefully without paraphrasing a former self or god forbid anyone else...
The journal extract I performed last in the first round of open floor at Quillseekers on Friday night - about listening to poignant popular music on a quiet afternoon - comes close to why I try to capture fleeting thought and feeling. But I personally no longer give a fig if people deem my poetry merely prose. I've been chopping lines and sharing serendipity for nearly four decades. Poetry is just a few scrambled letters away from poverty. Ritual scribbles and personal introspective communion let loose on a mostly indifferent universe. Wax lyrical all you like about metre and scansion. Stack sentences, trim experiences and scatter at the feet of gatekeepers. Shout out loud on small stages, or wait ages for names to be printed down the slim spines of short-run paperbacks. From late teens to mid- thirties for me that was the real deal...
Quite a few of this month's NaPoWriMo prompts could be met with previous moments when my pen hit a good groove alone in my room, at a workshop, or on the upper deck of an X15 bus.
Ars Poetica? I don't care these days about how sacred the artform should be. About how it's a disgrace to share half-baked verse within an echo chamber. I write for myself and anyone else who wants to read it.
Sure, words have weight, carry meaning and responsibility. But what do I care if someone who only allows rarefied, agonised, carefully-considered-for-half-a-decade stanzas to see the light of day takes offence at tongue-in-cheek diaristic output. It's not compulsory to read everything. Or criticise it.
Writing saved my life. I'll do it wherever, whenever and however I like. And until fascists kill our modern methods of publication, I'll continue to spew my innards and document chosen moments to the best of my ability, however mediocre to others that may be.
And that, dear reader, is how it's always been. The talking pen provides the means. Diary, memory, anxiety. Poetry? I'm just a failed rock star wannabe living my own writing dream. Shoot me!
Monday 27th April 2026
Really productive day. I did a draft for the NaPoWriMo prompt and will have another look at it in the Waddy session tomorrow. Then I worked on my Failed Rock Star pamphlet for the upcoming gigs. Took a while to get the set together for the late show open mic but I think I'm there. I ditched an old chestnut in favour of a 2023 NaPoWriMo poem. I put the open mic set in between the two sets for The Smoke Room. I then did the prep for my Durham Carers workshop. It was mainly just replenishing the handouts and checking the files to see what I could I did in Bishop Auckland last time. This evening I reformatted the files for the pamphlet. I've had baked potato, tuna and curried beans. And oxtail soup. And Jacobs club mint biscuits. Still got physio to do. 0K. 11.45pm.
Tuesday 28th April 2026
Long, long day. Up super early to get more work done on the pamphlet, tweaking the page margins to compensate for the loss of print position on the Waddy machine. Thankfully, I've sussed how to do the spacing on fonts to get the left and right page poem titles and page numbers to print level on both sides of the paper. Waddy session was another bunch of NaPoWriMo stuff. I got more booklet covers printed and two test copies of pages on 120gsm paper. Tonight I tweaked the left and right margins to compensate for trimming. Hope to be able to print this weekend at Waddy. 0K. 11.10pm.
Wednesday 29th April 2026
A good workshop in Bishop Auckland this afternoon, overshadowed by printing hassles for the sampler pamphlet that I hope to have ready for the gigs at Station East on the 9th of May. Looks like the format and weight of stock I'd set my heart on might be in jeopardy because I can't get access to the computer I need to print the pages. Two computers in the same room, hooked up to the same printer using the same PDF from my USB stick, and they print it in different sizes. Peter the tech wizard is on holiday next week. If I can't get the job done on Saturday, I'm not going to have pamphlets in time for the gigs. I've not slept well or had decent food. It's not quite half nine. I need to be in bed as soon as possible. Knackered. 9.25pm.
Thursday 30th April 2026
The Behemoth book arrived this morning from Oxfam Books. Mint condition. I only like the band’s recent albums, but an opportunity to grab a copy of their out-of-print illustrated biography for twenty quid was just too good to let pass. I spoke to Waddy staff on the phone. If I can’t get the pamphlet sorted on Saturday, I will be given access to Peter’s computer to finish the job while he is on holiday. I’ve prepped my session for Washington and feel surprisingly chipper considering I’ve been going for thirteen-and-a-half hours with a couple more to go. Cheers for reading. OK. 8.37pm.
Sunday 26th April 2026
NaPoWriMo 2026 Day Twenty-Six
ANOTHER STAB AT A PROSE POEM IN SEARCH OF A DEFINITION OF ITSELF
(With Apologies to Brian Patten for vaguely recalling his title)
Once again, the daily National Poetry Writing Month prompt seems to be chosen deliberately to match a poem I've recently written or read from my back catalogue, thus making it impossible to write another of equal calibre. The same water doesn't flow in the same stretch of river twice over. Any subsequent attempt on my part will be but a pale imitation of the first.
Ars Poetica? What is poetry? Why, to me poetry is whatever it wants to be. Of course this includes chopped-up prose, lacking rhythm, metaphor, simile, imagery. A three-line joke, an excuse to poke and pry, hang dirty linen out to the astonished eye, put a little bit of life under the microscope, but hopefully without paraphrasing a former self or god forbid anyone else...
The journal extract I performed last in the first round of open floor at Quillseekers on Friday night - about listening to poignant popular music on a quiet afternoon - comes close to why I try to capture fleeting thought and feeling. But I personally no longer give a fig if people deem my poetry merely prose. I've been chopping lines and sharing serendipity for nearly four decades. Poetry is just a few scrambled letters away from poverty. Ritual scribbles and personal introspective communion let loose on a mostly indifferent universe. Wax lyrical all you like about metre and scansion. Stack sentences, trim experiences and scatter at the feet of gatekeepers. Shout out loud on small stages, or wait ages for names to be printed down the slim spines of short-run paperbacks. From late teens to mid- thirties for me that was the real deal...
Quite a few of this month's NaPoWriMo prompts could be met with previous moments when my pen hit a good groove alone in my room, at a workshop, or on the upper deck of an X15 bus.
Ars Poetica? I don't care these days about how sacred the artform should be. About how it's a disgrace to share half-baked verse within an echo chamber. I write for myself and anyone else who wants to read it.
Sure, words have weight, carry meaning and responsibility. But what do I care if someone who only allows rarefied, agonised, carefully-considered-for-half-a-decade stanzas to see the light of day takes offence at tongue-in-cheek diaristic output. It's not compulsory to read everything. Or criticise it.
Writing saved my life. I'll do it wherever, whenever and however I like. And until fascists kill our modern methods of publication, I'll continue to spew my innards and document chosen moments to the best of my ability, however mediocre to others that may be.
And that, dear reader, is how it's always been. The talking pen provides the means. Diary, memory, anxiety. Poetry? I'm just a failed rock star wannabe living my own writing dream. Shoot me!
Monday 27th April 2026
Really productive day. I did a draft for the NaPoWriMo prompt and will have another look at it in the Waddy session tomorrow. Then I worked on my Failed Rock Star pamphlet for the upcoming gigs. Took a while to get the set together for the late show open mic but I think I'm there. I ditched an old chestnut in favour of a 2023 NaPoWriMo poem. I put the open mic set in between the two sets for The Smoke Room. I then did the prep for my Durham Carers workshop. It was mainly just replenishing the handouts and checking the files to see what I could I did in Bishop Auckland last time. This evening I reformatted the files for the pamphlet. I've had baked potato, tuna and curried beans. And oxtail soup. And Jacobs club mint biscuits. Still got physio to do. 0K. 11.45pm.
Tuesday 28th April 2026
Long, long day. Up super early to get more work done on the pamphlet, tweaking the page margins to compensate for the loss of print position on the Waddy machine. Thankfully, I've sussed how to do the spacing on fonts to get the left and right page poem titles and page numbers to print level on both sides of the paper. Waddy session was another bunch of NaPoWriMo stuff. I got more booklet covers printed and two test copies of pages on 120gsm paper. Tonight I tweaked the left and right margins to compensate for trimming. Hope to be able to print this weekend at Waddy. 0K. 11.10pm.
Wednesday 29th April 2026
A good workshop in Bishop Auckland this afternoon, overshadowed by printing hassles for the sampler pamphlet that I hope to have ready for the gigs at Station East on the 9th of May. Looks like the format and weight of stock I'd set my heart on might be in jeopardy because I can't get access to the computer I need to print the pages. Two computers in the same room, hooked up to the same printer using the same PDF from my USB stick, and they print it in different sizes. Peter the tech wizard is on holiday next week. If I can't get the job done on Saturday, I'm not going to have pamphlets in time for the gigs. I've not slept well or had decent food. It's not quite half nine. I need to be in bed as soon as possible. Knackered. 9.25pm.
Thursday 30th April 2026
The Behemoth book arrived this morning from Oxfam Books. Mint condition. I only like the band’s recent albums, but an opportunity to grab a copy of their out-of-print illustrated biography for twenty quid was just too good to let pass. I spoke to Waddy staff on the phone. If I can’t get the pamphlet sorted on Saturday, I will be given access to Peter’s computer to finish the job while he is on holiday. I’ve prepped my session for Washington and feel surprisingly chipper considering I’ve been going for thirteen-and-a-half hours with a couple more to go. Cheers for reading. OK. 8.37pm.
No comments:
Post a Comment