Yorkshire Writers' Lunch

I had this girlfriend once, called Sally; she wanted to go to the theatre. It was to see a sort of Romeo and Juliette thing but with a happy ending, she said. La Nonnay Sanglantay, it was called. Translates apparently as Bloody Nun, and it was – bloody nunsense. There’s these star crossed lovers, Rudolpho (not Romeo) and Agnes. The families are at loggerheads, so to keep the peace, she’s being forced to marry Rudolpho’s older brother. She runs away by disguising herself as the ghost of the nun that’s supposed to haunt the castle. Rudi trots along to the rendezvous they’d arranged earlier, sees the ghost, thinks it’s Agnes, and marries it, witnessed, as he would be, by all his ancestors - who are also ghosts. Then he finds out it’s not Agnes. You’d have thought he’d have checked what was under the veil, wouldn’t you? Anyway, the ghost won’t let him go unless he kills the man who murdered her – I hope you’re following this, ‘cos I couldn’t until Sally explained it at the inte...

Eight of us standing on a suspended walkway Staring down at the swirling waters below. A riverside walk, followed by a canalside walk, Followed by a couple of pints in the sunshine. Talk of this and that. Someone says – why don’t we each make a list of our top ten tunes? Ten’s not enough, somebody else says. Make it twenty. In time for the next meet-up. It’s agreed. We only get together every three months, so there’s bags of time. Back home, pen and paper. Don’t overthink it. Just jot down what comes into your head first. Good progress. Apache by The Shadows – the first single I ever bought. All or Nothing, Small Faces. What a voice! I Heard it Through the Grapevine. How can you not dance to it? Before I know it, there’s a list of thirty on my piece of paper. And I’m not even out of the 80’s yet. OK. A bit of pruning needed. Maybe even a lot of pruning. That’s better. Twenty five. And now there’s even some 21 st century tracks! Tinariwen … Camelph...

A dark, dreary day, Falls Road, Belfast; For the deceased this journey was his last. He was one of the leaders of the Party, Commander-In-Chief of their army. The family were gathered, the Son concierge A Piper took his place at the head of the cortege. He was cold, flexing his fingers, looking at the floor Hoping he wouldn’t be called to do this anymore.   The church, two hundred yards hence, The Piper, a feeling of trouble – he was tense. This time more so for this was the Chief who In the Troubles, made people see sense.. A tap on his shoulder, all was ready, Filling the pipe’s bags he got himself steady, Set a sedate pace so the family could show Even in death he was still the man to know. He walked a slow walk, eyes watching, wary, Piping a tune, in his in head saying Hail Mary, People crowded as they passed houses, then rubble; Telling himself there’d be no more trouble. He noticed a group pointing and shouting The Son came quickly his heart pounding...

We go out on the streets see who we meet mostly it’s sweet and kinda neat a proper treat seein’ our peeps We might have a beer chat if we c’n hear chill with no fear have another beer we don’t do gear keep our brains clear We go to a gig venue ain’t big have another swig have a bit of a jig to tunes we dig see a guy with a wig On to the next place gotta nice bit of bass coming at your face sounds really ace much more space yeah picking up the pace. A guy with a Fender gets up and plays like a GOD with loads of delays it’s like he’s in a wond’rous daze he’s good but we ain’t fazed and we listen totally amazed A girl with a cello is next on the stage opens her music at a random page starts playin' like she’s in a rage her music ain’t from no stone age she stands up like Boudica in a cage The place goes insane we want more of the same but she struts off stage like a theatre dame Then it’s a poet who gets us clappin' struttin' arou...

REASONS TO BE TEARFUL. (Read to the tune of “Reasons To Be Cheerful...” by Ian Dury & The Blockheads.) Measles, Mumps, Rubella, Split up with your fella, Locked up in the cellar, song sung blue. Been taken for a ride, We’ve got nowhere to hide, Mother of the bride, Can't be true. Hannibal on the loose, too few kangaroo’s, Just run out of booze, Balance Due. Country is in deep debt, Cat needs to see a vet, Plug sockets are all wet, A day to rue. Car's got a flat tyre, Billy's not a liar, Daddy's not my sire, Tea's gone cold Russians in the Ukraine, Lion without a mane, Lex's kidnapped Lois Lane Brass aint bold. Gone to meet his maker, Street without a baker, Used up all my data, Tale untold. They've all gone and left me, Beaten up by Bruce Lee, Sad and melancholy, My body's old.