I THINK it was poet William Cowper who suggested that variety is the very spice of life. Well, I certainly think it is the spice of mine.

This week I have enjoyed the local book festival The Write Idea.

Some of the great and the good from the world of writing have been here in Sedbergh talking about their work.

In local cafés poets have been reading works of their own and others, and I was amused to see some people back out of the café door when they realised someone was reading poetry. I can’t help wondering what they thought would happen to them if they dared to go inside. To my, some would say odd, way of thinking, it begs the question - is poetry contagious or is it that they remember poetry from school? After all when you consider great poets from the past you can’t fail to have noticed that the recurring theme is death, dying or unrequited love. Consequently in my anxiety ridden teens, having read from Keats, Shelley, Christina Rossetti and Emily Bronte‘s works, I was kept busy wringing tearful odes to romantic love from my tortured soul. I seem to remember the tortured soul approach to verse was actively encouraged at this time. I’m not sure when the change came but I remember being surprised when joining a poetry group in the 1980s. I found that there were no holds barred, any words, and all subjects could be and would be used, it was extremely liberating.

On Saturday I attended a play writing workshop led by the talented Stephanie Dale. This was a terrific experience and one that I am hoping will jolt me into writing next year’s pantomime. At the moment I’m struggling to come up with a suitable theme. I always have some paper and pen beside my bed as ideas tend to come to me at night. Usually somewhere between 1am and 3am. In this drowsy state I lean out of bed and scribble my thoughts on a piece of paper. In this way I don’t forget my ideas. Well, that’s the theory. Morning comes and I read my ‘wisdom of the small hours,’ only to find that my dozy scribble is complete gobbledegook.