Worcester Kaleidoscope [Part 2]
March 2024 updates and appearances, and the next part of my ongoing serial
Hello, my friends!
Welcome to another month in the happy world of Damon Lord, poet, writer, Worcestershire Poet Laureate and generally whatever other nice labels you stick on me.
February was a fun and busy month, starting with Charles Dickens’s birthday which I described in the previous edition of the newsletter, followed by a celebration of UNESCO’s International Mother Language Day on the 21st of February 2024. More than half a dozen languages from across the globe were represented, with poetry and performances from a wide variety of performers. I decided not to read anything of my own this time, but instead performed the “O reason not the need” speech from Shakespeare’s King Lear and also in Esperanto: “Ho, ne rezonu pri l’ neces-kialo.” It was a fantastic event, prompting deep discussion afterwards about diverse languages and cultures.
I was also invited to be a judge at a local school for their pupils’ poetry declamation day in late February. There were some truly excellent readers, who memorised some difficult poetry and what’s more performed it with passion, so that it was incredibly difficult in the end to choose a winner! There are some fabulous young orators in our county, and those kids have got some great futures ahead of them.
Time for the big shout out for friends: the Speak Volumes! arts festival is coming up on 21st – 23rd of March, at Arch 27 + Arch 28, Croft Road, Worcester WR1 3BD (the railway arches round the back of the Hive). It’s a student-led arts festival, encompassing literature, poetry, and visual arts. It has got a vital, vibrant and vivacious team leading it, with some amazing headliners to entertain. Some of my poetry about the county of Worcestershire will be incorporated into a visual art piece/map of the county, and I can’t wait to see it! For more info, visit: https://speakvolumesfestival.co.uk/
As the current Worcestershire Poet Laureate, I only get to wear the crown for a year. Other places, such as the incredible Jasmine Gardosi, Birmingham’s Poet Laureate, or the fabulous Kuli Kohli, Poet Laureate of Wolverhampton, are appointed for two years as with many other local poet laureates around. I’m not sure why Worcestershire rotates on an annual basis rather than biannually, but it will soon be time (Sunday 9th June 2024) for me to step down and hand over to the next great poet that Worcestershire uncovers. And you know what? It could be you. If you are resident in Worcestershire and aged 20 or over, you could apply to take my place! The closing date is Tuesday 7th May 2024, and more information is available here: https://litfestworcs.org/competitions
I continue to be interested by the concept of serialised fiction, thanks to my perennial love of Armistead Maupin’s Tales of the City. Like Charles Dickens’s volumes, most people today encounter the works in novel form, with little consideration to its original form of a regular serialised piece. I think it’s a shame that it’s often forgotten, because the serialisation format introduces constraints and forms that lead a writer and a reader to approach a story in rather a different manner. I’m considering the possibility of exploring it academically.
In the meantime, I’ll be bringing you the latest of my own ongoing serial, Worcester Kaleidoscope, later in this newsletter. 42 Worcester, being the local home of genre fiction spoken word, is also home to all things experimental, and I’ve been allowed to present my ongoing serial there. I’ll also be there again at the end of the month to read out the next part, but you can read it here first, below!
This month, March 2024, I’m going to be busy again, travelling as far as neighbouring Gloucestershire for poetry. Check up on that in the Events News section below.
So that’s my monthly round-up. What will you be up to this month? What ever it is, I hope you have a great month!
Have fun!
Damon
EVENTS NEWS
The Illuminati: Bane of Freemasonry - Masonic poem/lecture
Tuesday 12th March 2024, 6:15 p.m.
Glevum Lodge No. 7385, Gloucester.
Members only event.
SPEAK VOLUMES! Arts Festival
21 -23 March 2024
Arch 27 + Arch 28, Croft Road, Worcester WR1 3BD (the railway arches round the back of the Hive).
A student-led arts festival. Some of my poetry about the county of Worcestershire will be incorporated into a visual art piece/map of the county, and I can’t wait to see it! For more info, visit: https://speakvolumesfestival.co.uk/
Earth Hour 2024
Sunday 24th March 2024, 7 p.m.
Script Haven, 104 High Street, Worcester, WR1 2HW.
A heartfelt evening or poetry and spoken word for the planet, caring for our future.
42 Worcester - March 2024
Tuesday 26th March 2024, 7:30 p.m.
Script Haven, 104 High Street, Worcester, WR1 2HW.
Damon will be returning to 42, Worcester's only genre spoken word night, reading the next part of his serial, Worcester Kaleidoscope. To catch up with the previous part of the serial, go to: https://damonlordwriter.substack.com/
Story Time
Each part will be told from the different perspective of a different character. Mirroring Armistead Maupin’s magnum opus Tales of the City, I aim to tell each part in 800 words. We’ll see how long it goes on for, maybe indefinitely, maybe only a few months, who knows? Here’s the next part.
Worcester Kaleidoscope [Part 2]
Bradley
“I’ll tell you what, Katie, my honeybun, I’ll get back to Mr. and Mrs. Drake and check if they can come down on the price of the house a smidge; how does that sound as a sweetener?”
I creep my car forward. This is my lane, and I’m not letting that car indicating left try and nose in.
“I really don’t think it’s quite right for us. The house needs so much work.”
“Just think of all the potential you’ve got! A delicious fixer-upper for you; if I get them to come down by a few grand, you can use that to fit a whole new kitchen! Piece of cake! I’ll even bring a house-warming gift.”
Another red light. I pound the steering wheel with my right fist, but I won’t let my frustration carry over into my voice.
“Mr. Robbin, I honestly don’t think we will go ahead–”
“Call me Brad. Most call me Bradley, but I let my friends call me Brad. And friends do favours for friends, right? So I’ll get a good price for you on this and we’ll have a drink afterward, okay? You don’t want to miss out, because they’ve got another viewing at half past six tonight. I’ll call you back when I’ve got a deal for you. Speak to you soon.” I jab the end call button on the car dashboard.
I’ll need another can of energy drink. I live off this stuff. I’m always buzzing and ready to strike another deal. It takes a certain type of killer instinct to do what I do, especially in Worcester. So many different types of houses, all for me to sell. Lovely three-bedders in Warndon Villages, pokey city centre flats (they’re compact and bijoux, thank you!), former council-house shit-tips, hoity-toity posho-mansions outside the ring road. I can earn commission on them all. My area manager says I could sell snow to Eskimos and I can, if the price is right. It’s all about finding that sweet spot, and FOMO: the fear of missing out.
I punch up the number for the Drakes on my car dashboard. The phone rings.
I bang the horn. Another horn sounds back at me, somewhere ahead, then a third. The cars aren’t moving! Come on, come on! I’ve got a viewing at six, a great four-bedder house in St. John’s. A landlord will snap it up to rent to students there in no time.
“Mrs. Drake? Joanne? How are you? Lovely to speak to you. It’s Bradley Robbin from Felcham and Rimswell Estate Agents.”
“What is it, Mr. Robbin?”
“Brad; all my friends call me Brad. Now, you know Katie who viewed your house; well, she’s been on my back all afternoon. She loves your place, but the only way we can get the cherry on the cake is if you budge a bit. Do you think you could come down by a few grand?”
“Mr. Robbin, I told you already, I can’t make any decisions unless I discuss it with my husband first.”
Fucking traffic. I don’t know if I’ll get to St John’s in time. People walking, weaving through. I’ve got a car here; I’ve got right of way! I blast the horn again.
“Joanne, is Steve with you? Yes? Be a sweet and pop him on the line, and I’ll explain to him as well, and we can have a chat, just the three of us, darling.”
“It’s Steve here; I heard everything, Mr. Robbin. I don’t think we can come down any further.”
A gap opens ahead. I press gently on the accelerator, just roll forward.
I’ll turn them around! Just need my drink. Pop the lid.
Sticky liquid explodes.
“Fuck!”
Brake! Whomp; shit, no, that’s accelerator!
Brake! Stop. THUD.
White everywhere. What was that bang?
“Mr. Robbin? Are you all right?”
I push the icing-sugar coloured airbag aside and wipe my face.
People stare at a woman sprawled on the road in front of my car, then at me, back and forth. The woman on the ground looks like a renter, not a home-owner.
Is that blood?
Did I do that?
“Sorry. Someone’s had a car accident here. I’ll call you back, yeah?”
I turn off the engine, then open my car door.
“Does anyone know first aid?” a man shouts, taking a step toward the woman. Dirty ironed shirt; he looks like he’d live in a two-up, two-down with his elderly mother. “Has anyone called an ambulance?”
I pull out my mobile and dial. I glance again at the woman on the ground.
“Hello, it’s Bradley Robbin here. Call me Brad; all my friends do. You won’t believe this, sugar. I’m on City Walls Road and someone’s just had an accident. Look, do you think we could re-arrange the viewing?”
Come back next month for the next part!