Welcome to the white house

On Saturday I rolled up at a little white house balancing on a rocky finger which points into the Atlantic towards America. I had come to this walker's paradise at the kind invitation of Kylyra Ameringer, performance poet extraordinaire and very generous host. Ky is amazing. Her hair is a beautiful and vibrant mixture of blonde and red, she is a beautiful woman and her voice is velvety, deep and rich. She and her brother are from Canada, I believe, but have settled in the sheep-munched farming rocks of West Cork, where she brings poets from different parts of Ireland and the UK together once a year for a delightful event, Poets Express.

On Saturday night we performed in the Bay View pub in the centre of town. I was in the acoustic room, playing my uke and singing alongside other musicians and poets. It was a great atmosphere ... thoughtful, reflective poems were read alongside the bawdy and in-yer-face songs of Dublin band the Lonely Schizophrenic whose tales about panda porn and STDs were well received. Eric the Anchorite, a locally based American poet, played host, organising the room, videoing the performers and elegantly kept the evening in order. He is himself a compelling poet, with a very composed delivery.

Back at Ky's house next day, her brother Tor efficiently set up a recording system in the lounge for the group of writers to make a podcast, some of which might be partially broadcast on County Sound, West Cork radio. It was part discussion, part performance. Poets talked about poetry and read pieces, I sang a couple of songs from Doodlebug Alley.

It must have been a lot of work to organise this event in such a remote location - so it's hats off and thank yous to our friends from Kilcrohane.

Kilcrohane here I come

This Saturday I'm off to the last coastal village on the Sheep's Head Peninsula for a poetry and music festival. This might be my only trip to Ireland this summer so I shall make the most of it; I'm going to run down to the sea and breathe very deeply.

I'm playing on the acoustic stage on the Saturday evening. As I have to get up VERY EARLY to get my flight from Luton airport I shall have to nap in the afternoon, or maybe shame myself by falling asleep during 'Future Dialogue' or 'The Lonely Schizophrenic'. Oh the delights of being a modern troubadour.

I'm very much looking forward to meeting Kylyra Ameringer, poet extraordinaire, who is hosting the event, and putting me up on her couch. She's a musician too so we should have lots in common.