Photo by Jo Bell
Day 5 in the StAnza house, and we can't believe it's almost over. It's with a heavy heart that I write from Edinburgh, having to miss the StAnza festival finale for the first time in all my StAnzaing years on account of an early flight tomorrow morning; if you know this little Peggy, you will know that she is never usually the first to leave the party. But how better to feel a part of it - as I know that Ciaran Carson and Douglas Dunn will just be exiting the Byre Main Auditorium, after what I can only imagine was a dreamy event, just before the festival finale, with music from Gaelic band Lurach - than by signing off, for now, here. Oh don't you worry: there are more pictures to upload (more spectacles, teapots, people, socks, moustaches, moustaches on socks...) and more gossips to unfold, audio for you to enjoy and poetry to share, but I'll end here with a poem, shoved into my hands on the Byre stairs, by an 'anonymous' scribe:
There was a young man from Lochranza
Gave a poetry reading at StAnza
He had such a great time
He forgot how to rhyme
All in all it was quite a bonanza.
I'm not sure there was a young man from Lochranza; I certainly didn't meet him. Nor was I aware that anyone forgot how to rhyme. But I can swear an oath that we partied hearty in the name of poetry! So here's to director Eleanor, to her first year in post and a winning beginning, the StAnza volunteers, the fantastic Byre staff, a fleet of wonderful poets, and of course you the audiences for being part of 2011. Wha's like us? I raise a toast across the Firth of Forth!