Last Thursday, endeavouring to address a recent indifference towards and break from writing, I participated in a writers ‘Open Mic’ evening in Harrogate.
This clambake afforded eleven fellow authors and myself opportunity to showcase our literary wares. The event offering its audience a tempting mix of poetry, thought provoking and irreverent fiction, along with comedic prose.
Wanting to play to (hopefully) my strengths, I pitched my literary flag to the whimsy pole; performing a fanciful tale (partly fictional) relating to a camper van trip. This yarn a heavy rehash of a previous blog; the monologue thankfully well received by the crowd… A few of their post stick feedback comments relating to my performance are included below. A tad hubristic of me I guess, but hey it’s nice to pat yourself on the back again now and again for a job well done.
Thank you to the splendid organiser Jackie for affording me opportunity to showcase this my fifth ‘Open Mic’ performance. The fictional (based on fact) piece went as follows:-
I’ve been inflicted with back pain since suffering a freak accident erecting my campervan awning last Friday. To clarify, the revelation of a freak accident relates to the event causing an unexpected injury, not that the mishap happened to somebody who’s a freak… Although then again!
Yours truly royally ricking my lower lumbar area whilst inflating the accessory’s supporting legs with a hand pump. This twinge of a nerve/muscle resulting in me spending the weekend away with my partner, Sarah, with a gait misleadingly indicating I’d defecated myself. Never a good look on a campsite where you’ve a bit of a stroll to the bathroom.
My injury tarnishing the enchantment of my weekend outdoor surroundings; situated by a pleasant pondside at a North Yorkshire campsite.
Upon ricking my back, I let out a agonising shrill which I imagined to be similar to a howl made by a rhinoceros mid-circumcision. Never witnessing an operation of that ilk, I admit I’m not making this comparison from an informed position. However, with the animal’s dense skin makeup I’d imagine the procedure, if unsedated, would see the rhino mimic my screams of pain.
To be honest, I’m not sure under what circumstances a rhinoceros would require circumcising, or indeed if they even possess a foreskin. If they do undergo the op, I can’t imagine it would be for religious reasons; consequently, I’d suggest it would be more likely a corrective procedure by a vet than rabbi induced, if indeed it ever takes place.
Anyhow, as I have spent longer mulling over medical procedures administered to rhino genitalia than I ever thought possible, or indeed wanted, I’ll move on swiftly.
This injury ensured I’d wasn’t in the best fettle from Friday teatime onwards. Especially when not sleeping on a proper mattress for two nights, when every twist and turn caused pain induced yelps.
As we had just arrived onsite with a raft of other camping accessories to set up, the timing of the incident could not have been worse. These jobs now having to be performed by Sarah; the odd task undertaken by me in severe discomfort.
Sarah and I arrived at the sun-drenched Stamford Bridge campsite in good spirits. She was full of beans after finishing work at midday, and yours truly was chipper after taking advantage of a ‘3 for the price of 2’ marmite crisp offer.
Apart from a brief delay due to a A64 contraflow system, we’d had a decent journey east from our West Yorkshire starting point. In my then pain free state, I chatted about how excited I was the trip would allow me to utilise recently purchased awning pegs. Not to mention, relaying a bunch of interesting discoveries relating to my newfound love of soil science.
I discussed some interesting stuff as well, although Sarah would probably beg to differ. Coming to think of it, as she almost nodded off at the wheel while I listed plants which thrive in acidic soil, she most definitely would beg to differ… Even her enchanting German Shepherd dog Zella pretended to be asleep at that juncture.
Although in severe discomfort, I took a foolhardy decision to walk 500 metre journey to the reception to pay for our booking. The twinges of soreness experienced during the short meander resulted in having to stop every 100-metres, allowing me to bend and release some pressure on the afflicted lumbar area.
As a result, my progress was slower than a sloth with a sumo wrestler on its back. My wander to the reception so stress inducing, I almost rang for a taxi to take me the few hundred yards back to my campervan.
The receptionist, seeing I was in real trouble when stood upright, asked if I’d like the groundsman to run me back on his buggy. However, concluding the mental pain from Sarah’s piss-taking would far outweigh the physical pain of returning on foot, I declined the offer
Despite fellow campers providing me with paracetamol and a Deep Heat rollerball to diminish pain levels, this health setback understandably impaired my spirits. Even my usual uplifting chums of beer and wine struggled to raise my campsite brio levels… Although, I did receive some alcohol induced pain relief as the evening progressed.
On the plus side, our campervan trip gave Zella opportunity to witness countryside creatures. Animals and birds rarely witnessed in her Ossett suburban habitat. Sheep, cattle, and game always evoking intrigue.
Last weekend the endearing canine came face to face with a creature she had never seen before. This new sight and smell coming in the shape of a tortoise. A quirky pet brought by a fellow campsite dweller. Zella’s uncertain reaction upon witnessing this little shelled fella priceless.
As I am not fluent in German Shepherd, I have no idea what she made of the reptile. However, with artistic licence, I’m guessing her thoughts included“Blimey, that’s a big snail!” … Or perhaps musing “Flipping heck, that is the slowest creature I have seen since watching Harry Maguire play football for England!”
It must be said, though, the fearless little creature seemed unfazed to be in the company of this significantly larger animal with sharper teeth. Zells stunned into pedantry by this little creature who sauntered past her with the bravery of a lion and stature of a …. Errrr… Well, a tortoise.
To be honest you cannot blame the delightful dog for its confusion as little legs strutted confidently around her. I guess I would be the same upon witnessing an animal I’d never seen before. I don’t know what that creature would be, but off the top of my head I am thinking a minotaur-like being with the head of Richard Madeley and the body of a zebra… That would freak the hell out of me I can tell you… Especially if its conversation mirrored that of Madeley’s inane broadcasting style.
Sensing that Zella was a little unsure of what was playing out in front of her, the tortoises’ owner picked it up before it invaded her space any further. Not happy at this removal from terra firma, Timmy tortoise frantically wriggled all four legs as if to stroppily berate “Put me down, I see dog treats!”
So, what lessons did I unearth from the weekend? Well, firstly I should invest in an electric pump to inflate my awning; mitigating against further back injuries… Also, I must never forget on occasions I’m unable to stand upright without severe pain, a 500-metre walk to the reception is as foolhardy as using a sprig of lucky heather as a form of contraception.
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