Writing and Me

This image from my homepage was taken in the Chained Library at Hereford Cathedral. https://www.herefordcathedral.org/chained-library

I had a magical visit there with Frank, my late Dad and remember the awe that I felt at the huge amount of knowledge surrounding us in this C17 library. I remember Dad joking that he felt like a youngster amidst the aged tomes: he was 93 yrs old!

Hereford Cathedral also houses the Mappa Mundi – https://www.herefordcathedral.org/mappa-mundi and reveals a fascinating insight into C13 scholars’ view of the world.

A detail from the Mappa Mundi
Mappa Mundi at Hereford Cathedral

A bit about me …

I’m a poet and will add some links to my published work here later on.
This blog was set up some time ago but I’ve been caring for my Dad as he descended into dementia. He would have been delighted to see this and probably be quite stunned at the mention of him! (Below, I post my poem that I read at his funeral)

I’ve recently stepped down from Chairing The Gloucestershire Writers’ Network (GWN) which is a wonderful organisation that promotes writers, poets, groups and events. GWN organises an annual prose and poetry competition where the winners receive very good cash prizes, and they and the runners-up are published and read at the prestigious Times and the Sunday Times Cheltenham Literature Festival.

You can find out more about both organisations here
http://www.gloswriters.org.uk/
https://www.cheltenhamfestivals.com/literature

I’m looking forward to returning to my own creative writing in 2020. Next post will be my review of Helen Ivory’s The Anatomical Venus (Bloodaxe, 2019)

I’ll finish for today with a poem for my Dad and for all lovely Dads out there … it’s on the Good Dadhood website here: https://gooddadhood.com/2017/06/05/a-poem-by-kathryn-alderman/ – cheerio for now

Unconditional

Just you and me, and the tchck, tchck
of your hobnails, spading
stony grey buttercream
for the patio.

I love your talk of optimal ratios —
sand, water, cement,
but it’s hard to stay rapt
when the world’s a grassy bank
with worms to scream at,
and stepping-stone ants who promise
other means of construction.

If you’d wanted a boy
you never said.
Applauded my preference
for daisy chain decoration,
yum-yummed over mud pie teas.

Later, I learned
how you layered rare elements
to buttress my shaky mettle.

Now I spade up that same blend
of unconditional 
pass it back for you.

Kathryn and Frank at Hereford Cathedral

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