I’d been wanting to visit the poetry night Petersfield Write Angle for quite some time. I’d been intrigued as well as informed by the detailed reviews sent in to Write Out Loud on a regular basis by its organiser for eight years, Leah Cohen, and their mentions of semi-legendary figures – at least to me - such as Audi Maserati and Rachel Pantechnicon, names that I somehow associated with the A3 trunk road that rushes past this historic Hampshire market town. Rachel, an irregular guest poet at Write Angle, wasn’t there on the night I visited – I understand she’s a fairly elusive figure these days – but I got to hear Audi, and a host of other entertaining open micers, plus guest performance poetLucy English, pictured, from Bristol but with links to and memories of this neck of the woods, too.
One of the wonders and pleasures for me of poetry open mic nights is that each has its own identity. But first impressions can be misleading. I thought at first that Petersfield Write Angle was a kind of old-fashioned literary society, and regarded affable compere Jake Claret’s reference to the steepness of the stairs to the room above The Square Brewery pub and the possibility of installing a stairlift as an ironic reference to the mobility of some audience members. As possibly it was. But you only have to look at their snazzy website and extensive roster of big-name guest poets to know that there’s a lot more to Write Angle than that. By the end I left full of enthusiasm for a night packed with interesting and unexpected contributions, and charmed by the warmth and generosity of the audience, too.
The range of open mic contributions included former soldier Duncan Filer’s despatch from Helmand; Richard Hawtrey’s elegant reworking of an Icelandic poem found on a flyleaf in a Petersifled bookshop; Michael Usuwana’s rap poem praising women with generous figures; Barry Smith’s reflections on prostate cancer patients awaiting radiotherapy; and a report back from the frontline of abusive relationships by Imogen Thomas (“This is the first time I’ve done this in public.”)
Then came my Audi Maserati moment. He did not disappoint, turning out to be a laid-back, hippy figure retaining a decent amount of wild hair, and a nice line in songs that he played on a superior kind of ukulele. There was also Speech Painter, with a poem of epic length and historic sweep about the modern-day issue of cartoons and cartoonists; Bruce Parry on the hammer dulcimer, which he said had helped his writing, such as his poem about ‘Mr and Mrs Insular’; John Smith’s monologues about comedy and poetry; Chris Sangster’s poignant poem with a happy ending called ‘The Widower’, sandwiched by two songs; and G Rhymes (“It’s not his real name, but he likes to be called Grimy”) with a poem called ‘The Oral Tradition’, about a poetry appreciation class.
Lucy English is a novelist and poet who has performed worldwide, and now teaches performance poetry at Bath Spa University. She was once described as a “hippy chick love mother sex goddess”, although she tends to play that down these days, pointing out that she is now a grandmother. But she did recall being known as one of "‘those disgusting hippies", and being banned from local pubs, when she lived near Petersfield in the early 1980s.
Her poems at Petersfield were warm, wise, amusing and touching, and delivered in a confiding, easy-on-the-ear voice. Her set included ‘The Company of Poets’, which concludes with these lines: “They know everything’s been said before / but they’re going to say it again. / In case you didn’t hear it the first time.”
‘The Ghost in Clapham’ is about thinking she saw her long-dead father “buying squashy plums opposite the underground”, and contains sensible and resonant reflections on his life, and his daughter’s as well. The longer, three-part ‘My Mother and my Sister’ was even more moving. For an encore, there was a change of pace, with ‘Let Me Be’, of which it is fair to say that it’s definitely about sex.
Host Jake and founder/organiser Leah also read poems towards the end of the evening, and are a fine team. Leah had suffered a fracture which meant it would be difficult for her to file her customary review this month. So she was grateful that I was there to fill the gap. I know this won’t be up to her knowledgeable standard and word-length, but here’s my effort, anyway. The atmosphere and fun at Petersfield was just another reminder – as if I needed reminding – of how much I love this job. And I won the raffle!
Greg Freeman