SALTPUSSY & EGGS

Hey hey my beautiful Salted friends...
How are you under this gorgeous crispy blue Decemberry sky? As i type this i feel like i have been beaten like an egg in a bowl with a whisk and poured into hot butter, some griddle marks on my skin, i am scrambled. Life is good though, i count my eggs before they are hatched and boldly reckon that there are always more eggs...and the last weeks 8 gigs (or is it 9?) have left me with a lovely little ache for my fellow artists, poets and musician....i got bruised and boozed...what have i been doing? spinning plates and flipping pancakes...lets sum it all up... AOIFE MANNIX book launch was a brilliant night with awesome sets from AGNES MEADOWS and JOE DUGGAN....then there was the double gig two dip yolker...LITRO at Foyles was a really good turn out and then KUNST down at RVT was a wild cabaret night with plenty of rum and fun to follow...

hmmmm...this was followed by a stunning jam jazz affair at FARRGAO at CHARLIE WRIGHTS...Storming fun that was...then the pure lusty filth of LUSH at HACKNEY EMPIRE...all women all sex all so hot...poor BADEN PRINCE was flabberghasted and blushing and that was a hilarious sight to behold. Then the next day...to SOHO to perform at 3AM:PP for the delicious SOPHIE PARKIN. SALTPETER became a 2-piece for that backed up by the dark star that is SORAYA ALLEN...Lipstick smeared microphone and snarling guitar lines...that night we also went to play together at THE BLACK GARDENIA...mad mad night that was...then followed the next day with a wine juice jam with favourite flavour of the now QUIXOTE...http://www.myspace.com/quixoteonline

Last but not least was the goodbye gig of the year - THE LAST SHOWTIME at THE COLONY. i saw a cock and a fanny and a sanitary towel soaked in red wine fly across the room. I saw the greatest minds of my generation squidge themselves into the infamous green box and party like it was 1999. Damn that was one wild wicked night. Ending up in an all nighter... brilliant ELVIS MCGONAGALL too! SALTPETER played as SALTPUSSY - all-girl line up. Original sin the delicious MAX DORAY on throbbing bass lines and SORAYA ALLEN on guitar. The awesome genius COBOLT STARGAZER jumped up and jammed with us too...wooo hoo....it was a jammy night of DRINKING DICKS COCKTAILS, THE BLOCKHEADS, BELLY DANCERS, POI and BOAT LEAPING... Farewell Colony!

Tomorrow to Brighton...see you here....see you there...and as for the eggs...perfectly hard boiled and ready for toasty fingers...dip dip...drippy yellow...running down my fingers and licked on a crispy Monday... love.live.life.live.alive.lovely sxxx

THE LAST POETRY GIG FOR 2008? BRIGHTON!!!!! WORDPLAY: a captivating, intimate night of Brighton and London's most dynamic performance poets and musicians: Tuesday 9th December 8pm / £5 Sanctuary Cafe http://sanctuarycafe.co.uk/Location.html Featuring 2 sets from Salena Godden plus Poet-singer-storyteller Dan Clark from The Hat Live Improv vocals and strings: Bunty, Le Jule and Lee Westwood

GO TELL IT TO THE MOUNTAIN - LIVERPOOL TO MANCHESTER

GO TELL IT TO THE MOUNTAIN
I had a great journey to Liverpool on Friday afternoon. I was in a carriage with over a dozen boys - all of them with crates of beer, cans of cider and bottles of brandy and hard liquor, possibly on a stag-do. They started playing tunes…Can You Feel It…from the I-Pod and yelling things across the train about each others mothers and sisters to great hilarity and mirth. I unpacked my books to read and write, a bottle of water and a cheese sandwich then I caught myself eyeing their wares. I considered making friends with them and reckoned I could drink them all under the table. What a funny story that would have been - how I fell out of the train at Liverpool station, having lost one boot. No. I quickly changed my mind, sipped my water and got my head down, getting merry vicariously by reading RICHARD MILWARD’s mucky and brilliant alcopop-ecstacy book titled ‘Apples’ (Faber) as Euston dissolved into the outer London skyscape and the midlands of watery brown fields.

Liverpool – there is something about this city that always excites me. Over the years I have had some fun here, wild nights. As I pass the Adelphi hotel I remember the night I spent there once after a poetry gig and stumbled upon a Boxing convention. I stayed up all night with fighters and managers and got some really wicked tips, my upper cut, upper cut, roundhouse combo was match fit after that night. I took a stroll around Liverpool with every intention of going to the docks to find that old salty pub the author NIALL GRIFFITHS once took me to or exploring something arty in this city of culture. Instead I got lost in pants in Primark. Apparently someone died recently in a stampede in the lingerie department of Primark. I felt a rush of adventure and I knew I was in Liverpool, surrounded by lots of orange girls in trackie bottoms, with talons and that identifiable accent, all pushing to get to the neon pink leopard print thongs and frillys.

The gig that night was at the newly refurbished BLUECOAT. There were blistering sets from our wicked host NATHAN JONES, the ever adorable ROSS SUTHERLAND and the man of the moment the brilliant LEMN SISSAY - I loved this gig - LEMN illuminates how good spoken word can be, also he is so skilled, entertaining and powerful to watch. I think all poets should from now on steal his line when he said mid-gig and totally dead pan “You do realise that every poem I do I am reading as a black man?”

When I awoke on Saturday it was all about a cosy fry-up; a chilled walk, kicking yellow and amber leaves in the park and then writing all afternoon, conserving energy for the next gig….WAVE MACHINES & MERCY Presents…WAVE IF YOU ARE REALLY THERE? A fantastic and unique night put on in ST BRIDES CHURCH in the Toxteth area of Liverpool. The team are awesome, what more could you ask for than a slick operation plus a packed audience. This made for such a great night in a theatrical setting. The theme of the whole night was ‘funeral’ and the church was so haunting and macabre with people all dressed in black, ravens along the curtain rail and thundery film backdrops. Indeed one of the moodiest and most dramatic pieces I have seen this year was NATHAN JONES & WAVE MACHINES. The hair stood up on my arms as they performed, with angelic choirs, playground chants and creepy orchestration,“Jones Jones, Bag Of Bones….”

On stage / WAVE IF YOU ARE REALLY THERE?

Other stars of that night were ROSS SUTHERLAND making everyone stand whilst he lead a hymn he’d written with a line that went something like ‘oh death you never fucking stop…’ He also made us laugh when he commented how hot we all look at funerals…boo hoo he’s dead but shit I look great in this suit! The superb BYRON VINCENT also had the audience rolling in the church aisle, I really loved his list of things to buy on EBAY piece…plus the band a.P.a.T.t were killer too. Brilliant night it was and it went on and on, there was some sambuca involved and also some dancing in a bar called Magnet…then there were too many parties to choose from…so we sat on some stone steps, shared some cans of stella and watched Liverpool’s Saturday night spilling into the streets. We saw a girl trying to carry a man on her back and heard the crack of head as they both totalled in the gutter….soon after that we took a cab home and I curled up on Nick Holloway’s sofa and slept like a very tired poet.

After a late and leisurely Sunday lunch, I raised my glass of Chimay and said massive thanks and goodbye to fellow poets and new Wavy &Mercy mates and wended my way south meaning to go to London. When I got to Liverpool's Lime Street there were cancellations and Sunday special bus services so I jumped off at Manchester Oxford Street. Therein I was kidnapped by the Czech gypsy Katooshka and driven in the darkness to find myself waking in a place overlooking the MOUNTAINS. When I awoke I could see a slate and lilac sky; blackbirds and rolling hills; matted grey sheep and muddy horses. This is a warm house with a fire, a piano and a million other musical instruments. I read the moving book of shorts titled ‘Cathedral’ by RAYMOND CARVER. Yesterday I walked by a gush of reservoir, green and fast water. I am taking a breather, contemplative, realising that the band SaltPeter are going through another shift and change. When I return to London we’re back in the studio beginning a new path, recording new material for a whole new album…

As I type this there is a slice of blue in the distant horizon, a crack in the grey clouds. I’m going up a mountain to feed some horses, to walk and watch fresh water crashing over rocks, listening to the sky and researching the next chapter.

See you - OCTOBER 31st - THE SALTPETER HALLOWEEN BASH THE DARTMOUTH, York Rise, Tufnell Park. 8pm (off Cheywynd Rd / Tufnell Park Tube) FREE PARTY....FANCY DRESS...APPLE BOBBING...BURN THE WITCH...

Inviting you to come along for an evening of darkest murder ballads and candlelit macabre poetry in the noir of our top local! We are expecting wicked sets by the open fire from the likes of....are you ready? There's one almighty major line-up...we got the thumbs up from; POETS & AUTHORS: HEIDI JAMES ; TIM WELLS; MARCUS DOWNE; ELIVIS MCDONAGALL; ALYSON HUNTER; MC ANGEL; BEN GRAHAM; DZIFA BENSON; LAURA DOCKRILL; JOSHUA IDEHEN; HEATHER TAYLOR; ANNA HOPE; AMAH ROSE MCKNIGHT; VENTRILOQUIST; OLIVA SPLEEN; ANGRY SAM; MARK GWYNNE JONES; JOCK SCOT; JOHN HEGLEY & HOSTED BY SALENA GODDEN LIVE MUSIC: CRAIG BRAUNS; GRAHAM WYLIE; DELIRIUM TREMENS & SALTPETER

FROM BOHEMIA TO BESTIVAL TO BARCELONA

FROM BOHEMIA & BESTIVAL TO BARCELONA

What a messy and sticky summer…And now it’s the middle of September. I have a mouse living in my toaster and outside under crisp autumnal skies, the leaves are being painted red and the conkers are splitting in the gutter...but there are all these memories of the last dog days of summer, of the last of the festivals and shenanigans. A summer of hay bales, cider in paper cups and the fizz and buzz of the crowds. So here then we have Bohemia, Bestival &MMVV in Barcelona… BOHEMIAN RAPTURE I remember as I came to something was awry, I was too close to the ceiling. I could smell wood smoke and bonfires, and all I could taste in my dry mouth was spiced rum. I lifted the sheets and saw I had slept in my dress. My legs were scratched as though I had been tap dancing in a bag of cats. Clearly I had been at it again. I lay there for at least ten minutes racking my brain to remember where I might be. I sat up and whimpered out the words ‘Where am I?’ Looking around I ascertained I was in a boys dark blue bedroom. There was a dart board and trophies for karate and a poster of Manchester United. Whose bedroom was this? Where on earth did I crash and burn this time? Aha then thankfully that was when I heard the familiar sound of my nieces and my own name and I realised I had made it to my brothers house to sleep and was in the spare top bunk of my nephews room! What had I been up to this time?

Now I remembered…I had been singing with SALTPETER at BOHEMIA Festival in Tunbridge Wells, Kent. What a lovely party it was too! This was a magnificent gathering of eccentrics and fruit hats. There were plenty of waxed moustaches and filly’s dressed as though for the Charleston playing tennis and swigging pink champagne from the bottle. SALTPETER were on really early, Saturday at tea time, however the exciting part was that this was the first time we played with our new 5-man line up - Here we are then, THEOLONIUS MONIAK is now on guitars, JAMES ‘secret weapon’ BURKE on drums, MAX D’ZEE DORAY on bass, PETER COYTE on keys and science and me, SALENA GODDEN on vocals and lyrics…Big belated thanks to THE PONY COLLABORATION crew for lending us the drum kit too! We enjoyed a spell binding set from EVI VINE and her unique and beautiful haunting songs. After our gig and at night fall, we rocked out to the revolutionary whiskied call of the immense BLACK FRIDAY, now that was so much fun, that band featuring the brilliant LOUIS ELIOT was a really wild energy, the tent was literally smoking and rocking. This was followed also by yet another firing kick ass set from NED & MAFF of THE EGG, we love them boys…oh yes we do.

That night we went around the yurts and wigwams making new friends. I recall a true Alice In Wonderland moment, when we joined a charming mother and daughter for a glass of wine, we all drank from crystal glasses, sitting in a tent, at a dining table with a candelabra. I also recall MAX DORAY having a group of boys enraptured as she fellated a bottle of bourbon. Then following a path of Chinese lanterns and music, we discovered a wonderful party lost in the deep woods. I scrambled around in undergrowth, climbed into trees and searched for wood nymphs. I swear there were fairies in there, I had an overwhelming sense of being watched from above...they’re in the trees… For some silly reason I hid my bag from myself. I was quite chilly in a tiny black dress and so DAVID PIPER gave me some black velvet curtain makeshift trousers. In the end my bag was found under some guitars backstage…After that I somehow hitched a lift to sleep at my brothers…but that part is a mystery to me. I was supposed to go to V FESTIVAL for the day on Sunday, but GIRLS ALOUD and COLEEN ROONEY I could do without. Instead I spent time with my family and my tiny 19 day new niece. When she held my finger in her hand I felt my edges literally soften…momentarily. www.myspace.com/theponycollaboration www.myspace.com/blackfridayplymouth www.myspace.com/evivine

 BESTIVAL - The Isle of Wight was a flood of mud. Arriving with KELLY THE GREEK on Saturday morning in pouring rain, this festival was clearly not for the faint hearted light-weight. There were people leaving as we arrived, shaking their heads and dragging sodden bags behind them, dolefully telling us to go back because ‘It’s raining’ how we laughed at them, ha ha! This was the best mud-fest of the summer. I was booked to do poetry with a wonderful crew, a bill which featured and included stars of the spoken world - EXCENTRAL TEMPEST, JONNY FLUFFY PUNK, MARK GWYNNE JONES & DISRAELI all beautifully hosted by ANGRY SAM. We had a mid-afternoon slot, Saturday and Sunday at 3pm in the Restival Arena. There were two good things with this, firstly The Restival Arena had some green stuff, erm…grass…actually still poking through the mud and so it was a little easier on the thighs to walk about up there. Also the poetry was being read indoors in 5 yurts kinda sewn together. This meant that we had a packed and captive audience, folk needing boot-rest and a dry-fag-break, whilst also getting to hear some mighty fine poetry performed. I really enjoyed these sets and had such sport with my fellow poets too. There was so much music, mayhem and mud wrestling matches.

Other highlights included hanging out with the CUBAN BROTHERS and our nice man HOWARD MARKS backstage; Also being with HOWARD MARKS drinking wine in the wings on the big main stage whilst UNDERWORLD played ‘Born Slippy’- How exhilarating to look down to see a sea of faces, bodies cajoling, literally slurping and slipping in the mud below; Also really enjoyed GRACE JONES, dressed to kill…Only topped by GEORGE CLINTON’s ‘Maggot Brain’. It made me sentimental for a while, damn, that’s THE greatest guitar solo isn’t it? We also caught wicked sets from the fantastic PRINTS OF WHALES, down and dirty music that was indeedy and the crowd was just as filthy too. Plus a superb show by the delicious SOPHIE BARKER we overheard people saying things like “we love her…” “ooh yes we do!” “..she is well hot!”

The rest of Bestival…well there really was no rest. We seemed to have mud everywhere, in our pants, under our socks, beneath our eyelids. KELLY THE GREEK and I made new friends with a crew of feral beauties and kick-ass goddesses. With them we had balloons and were laughing and gurgling hymns, we sat on plastic blow-up furniture with a wheelbarrow filled with boxes of booze and fags. We floated in lakes that were once green fields, littered with abandoned tents, crates of beer, sleeping bags and so much useful tat. We were wombles 'making use of the things people leave behind'  - And people left everything behind and I mean everything. That last night we managed to make a fire to keep us warm, how it stayed alight on a puddle of sewage I have no idea? It took us two days to get off site and to the nearest pub for much needed bloody mary’s and sustenance. The ferry men were quite strict and were not going to let us leave the island because they said we were too dirty and filthy for public transport. I am not sure if they meant that metaphysically or mentally or spiritually…But I went home barefoot because they made me dump my caked muddy boots on the harbour. When we eventually left port though we had a party on the ferry….on the train…and all the way home.

MMVV - BARCELONA Isn’t it the best thing to get off a plane and feel that change of temperature, the heat oozing off the runway tarmac? Its still summer in Spain, that warm and golden light. When we arrived at the festival information centre, there were posters of SALTPETER everywhere. Isn’t this also the best thing, to arrive at a gig and for things to be promoted and to go smooth and easy? This was one of those, one of those wickedly brilliant gigs, we are and were very grateful and thankful to VANIA for setting everything up…thank you so muchly! There were about ten or so stages throughout the town of VIC, showcasing all kinds of bands from all over the world. Vic is about an hour train ride from central Barcelona and it’s a former ancient Roman village with winding cobbled streets and leaning narrow buildings. We sat in the main square and had a long and lazy lunch, hearing a cacophony of instruments sound check and echo off the tall buildings. Our stage was also open air and situated by a river. Its an auspicious thing to play music by flowing water, i think its as lucky as playing in churches. That first evening we met many other bands, agents and promoters and were given gifts of T-shirts and we all swapped CD’s. Then we headed back to the hotel and in the pitch black darkness, I could sense we were going somewhere high up and on the edge of somewhere, my ears popped. I woke up very early in the morning, at the crack of dawn, and threw open my curtains to see where we were.

What a spectacular view…a lush green lake in a basin of mountains and rugged landscape. It was quite breathtaking. I took breakfast alone and relaxed, smoking and drinking coffee under the wide sky. There was a rise of heat scorching away the morning mist, the majesty and age of the hills and most curious of all a church steeple poking up from the centre of the lake. Apparently there was a village under the lake and when they drain the reservoir you can walk around the village. At lunch we imagined old bearded widows knitting under water, folk with goggles posting letters and people with gills hanging out laundry. That day was bliss, we swam, read, chatted and cat-napped by the pretty turquoise swimming pool. It was a totally perfect day and a real treat to be so summer hazy and lazy before a gig. The concert was enormous fun.
We did a classic SALTPETER kick ass show. Strong songs for me were ‘OI OI SAVALOY’ with the lyrics changed to OI OI CHORIZO. I also enjoyed the Spanish theme to ‘MAKE LIGHT’ and remembered the original 2002 lyrics that used to go ‘Mi Corazon, boom, boom, boom’ thrown in for good measure. After the gig there was much merry making. We were now a dozen strong and we all went in a gang for a lovely repast of wine and tapas, consuming millions of courses, plates of patatas bravas, queso, chorizo, olives and then more wine after that. This lead to dancing into the night and bar hopping around the old town of Vic at dawn. I seem to recall as the sun came up I made friends with a man who was over 100 years old. I hugged him and bought him brandy…and after that Spanish brandy session, well as they say, that’s another story….

To all our lovely friends in BARCELONA & VIC & VANIA we say “SOU COLLONUTS!” THE NEXT SALTPETER UK GIG...THIS FRIDAY IN BRIXTON - 26TH SEPT @ NOCTURNE FOLKS HALF MOON, HERNE HILL, LONDON. ONSTAGE 10PM. NOCTURNE FOLKS: http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=5978769639

NEXT SGODDEN POETRY GIGS: 27th SEPT - GODDEN NEW WORDS @ GOLD 08 (shoreditch town hall) www.gold08.co.uk 29th SEPT - GODDEN NEW WORDS @ 14 HOUR (star bethnal green) http://www.facebook.com/group.php? www.saltpeter.co.uk

IMAGINE IF YOU HAD TO LICK IT....LATITUDE to CAMP BESTIVAL to SECRET GARDEN PARTY

IMAGINE IF YOU HAD TO LICK IT…

I must have chanted the words IMAGINE IF YOU HAD TO LICK IT one thousand times this month. July has been a frenzied and furious month of fizz and festivals, poetry, music and lovely sun drenched days of cider and hay bales. I have seen the sun set and rise again from Latitude to Camp Bestival to The Secret Garden Party. As I write this it is 6am and begin packing and preparing for this weekend’s Standon Festival in Hertfordshire, I empty my bag of crumpled myspace addresses, mud and hay. I look down and see my arm is decorated with a rainbow of passes and wrist bands and recall exactly where I have been… LATITUDE Drinking cherry beers for breakfast on the train journey, I arrived Friday lunchtime at Latitude (Suffolk) together with Rising editor and poet Tim Wells, Aoiffe Mannix, Niall O’Sullivan and Penned In The Margins dude Tom Chivers. Whilst they put up tents in the backstage shanty town, travelling light, I threw my bag in the dressing room and cracked open my first can of coke. The Poetry Stage was buzzing and in full swing. It was organised and hosted by the delicious and delightful Aisle 16 & friends. The poetry tent was constantly busy and the boys had it sewn up, a slick operation and turnaround of everybody’s favourite top poets and authors. Hats off to Luke Wright, Chris Hicks, Ross Sutherland, Joel Stickley and Tim Claire I salute you for pulling it off with such aplomb - yet again! I saw cracking sets from the aforementioned, plus highlights for me were Tim Turnbull, John Burnside and a tender delivery from blue-eyed boy Andy Craven-Griffiths. My set was not until midnight, and so to avoid getting hammered too early, I went for a lonely walk far away from the joviality of my writerly friends, who by mid-afternoon had mostly done their slots for the day and were steaming into the free booze backstage with authors Sophie Parkin and Lana Citron. The comedy tent was constantly rammed and as I passed it I heard the whole crowd screeching through a chorus of Bohemian Rhapsody. Later someone said he saw Ross Noble lead his entire audience in a conga chain down to the vegan organic stall to get the crowd to ask for a sausage in unison. Walking into the woods I heard unique dramatic baroque of The Irrepressibles sound-checking and in the shadowy conopy I ran into the forever dapper Great Gatsby himself Dickon Edwards. During my wanderings, avoiding alcohol, I listened to various snippets of bands and saw purplish sheep. I also made a note of nice looking boys and secret woodland cocktail bars for saving until later. Back at backstage hospitality I said hello to top funny man Phil Jupitus. I hardly recognised him, until I realised he had shaved his beard off and he promised to make it to my midnight gig. Then I had a little chat with John Hegley who encouraged me to have a drinky since it was only early eve and I had hours to get it together again, I took this as sound advice and had lovely cold ciders and laughs with Ross Sutherland, Yanny Mac, Aoiffe Mannix and Joe Dunthorne. I had a conversation with Aoiffe about the way we measure success and failure and the strange places you wind up in this bloody bizarre job of doing poetry for a living. Poetry is a small world yet we don’t half come across some weird and wonderful people and hear some strange things. Aoiffe is a cracking girl, with real spirit and intelligence and I remember I enjoyed that chat very much. Time ticked on and the sky was a pale mauve. I reckoned it was time for a chilled glass of champagne and the glorious music of Martha Wainwright. Martha kicked ass and the beat box artist she had on as a special guest totally rocked, I am sorry I didn’t catch his name. Sipping our bubbles we bumped into Irvine Welsh. The last time I saw Irvine must have been Edinburgh Festival about two or so years back, back when we drank the Port O’Leith dry with actor Tam Dean Burns. He was on top form and it was great to see his face again. I had to run away from Franz Ferdinand screaming N.O’s - I only bared to watched them for that one song, then went and caught some seriously surreal stuff in the cabaret field instead After my gig - a ballsy and rowdy thirty minute set at 1am to a mostly drunk audience, where IMAGINE IF YOU HAD TO LICK IT seemed to do the trick - there was much wild merry making and play wrestling. I seem to recall being the queen of the worm pile and then at the bottom of heap, being squashed by poets screaming bundle. I also recall being held in a head lock and rugby tackled and drinking some strange green stuff. Afterwards we headed backstage for drinky’s with the godlike John Cooper Clarke, and we all love him. The rest of that night was a lovely clandestine and star gazing time with a friend from HC/HP. We sat on a bank in the ferns and in the woods and let the party come to us – which funnily enough it did. Then we trampled through camp sites, talking to randoms, watching a magnificent magenta sunrise around a bonfire, debating and listening to the morning babbling brook of nonsense and clap trap.


CAMP BESTIVAL At 6am I bundled a farewell to my Latitudal buddies and jumped into a passing securities man’s speeding golf-buggy to head west, to Dorset and Camp Bestival. I was to miss the kick ass set by the notorious Attila The Stockbroker. I also heard through the grapevine that the fantastic Kate Tempest had a standing ovation, this does not surprise me in the slightest, for me Kate Excentral Tempest is the most poetic of rappers and an absolute star. Travelling all morning across the waist and belly of England was easy enough. From Suffolk to Dorset I managed a two-hour power nap, ate three tangerines, wrote some indecipherable poetry and had a wash and change of clothes in some public toilets. Upon arrival at Wool station, I shared a cab to site with author Nicholas Hogg and his best mate, who within two minutes of the taxi journey had insulted me, made me laugh and furnished me with a chilled glass of rose’ wine - my kind of travelling companions. Camp Bestival could not be further from Latitude. It was a much smaller site and more gentle environment, child friendly, as advertised. There were less wreck heads and more three-wheeled push chairs. I definitely heard a mother calling after her childen with a Tarquine and a Quesmereldra, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t great fun. I was sorry to have missed Chuck Berry the night before but was there to host Saturday’s Bookslam. I was thrilled to introduce the wickedly clever Ben Mellor and then a compelling, storming set from the utterly brilliant Sophie Woolley, another hard working top bird and talent, whom I totally admire. Although not as buzzing or crowd-popular as Latitude’s literary and poetry tents, Camp B did boast some exciting names. Over the weekend I caught wicked readings from ‘Londonstani’ author Gautum Malkani, the aforementioned Nicholas Hogg reading from ‘Show Me The Sky’ plus poetry from the wicked Poem Inbetween People and the hilarious and bright light that is John Berkavitch. Later that Saturday, I perused the grounds and saw the blue cove of the sea in the distance. Lulworth castle was lit up in powdery indigo and lilac making the pretty, peaceful Camp Bestival a most eye-pleasing backdrop for a weekend’s debauchery. I ran into me old mucker Jonathan Moore of Coldcut. He was there to play a set of rare and twisted nursery rhymes and funky Sesame Street tracks. At sun-down I had some rum with another old spar, the lovely Howard Marks who was charming as ever and there to read fairy stories in the children’s arena. Incongruous as this sounds, Howard’s voice has such a honey oaky quality and velvet timbre he could talk you into anything, clearly. As the sun set I was stunned by the unforgettable vocal and songs of Icelandic artist Emiliana Torrini but as the full moon rose I was bombarded and blasted by The Flaming Lips. However I am afraid they didn’t keep my attentuon, that night the full moon was high, bright and mischievous. We climbed a tree and danced in the cider tent and had it in the hardcore tent throbbing into the night. Later with the gorgeous Emiliana Torrini, we sipped hot brandy coffee, sitting in a circle around the piano and a glowing bonfire. In the warmth of the scarlet fiery sunrise I snoozed so softly in the arms of an olive-eyed Hemingway beneath an old tree. Sunday was a quite gentle day with laughs at the hilarious Bramble Radio Road Show. Then finished off with a thoroughly awesome gig by the breath taking and legendary Suzanne Vega. She performed such beautiful renditions of Luka and Left Of Centre they literally made me melt, just as the sun slipped into the sea in the distance.

THE SECRET GARDEN PARTY The Secret Garden Party was both an adults playground and there were children and dogs too. It was like a combination of the other two festivals Latitude and Camp B, mashed into a great mad hatters tea party and such enormous fun. Over the weekend I performed about ten different slots of music and poetry over three days, so for me personally, it was quite a marathon, a high energy weekend and therefore (coughs) blurred. I remember arriving on Friday lunchtime in Huntingdon, and on site at SGP with Theolonius Moniak and D’Zzee Doray ready for SaltPeanuts first ever gig, just over an hour before show time. The organisers of the Come and Play stage were brilliant and so super sweet to us all weekend. When we arrived they stored our gear, showed us to a cool green room and we had refreshing icy glasses of wine. As you may or may not know, SaltPeanuts is the name we have playfully given the 3-piece version of SaltPeter whilst Peter Coyte is away doing Pot Noodle - The Musical at Edinburgh Fringe Festival. To a warm and friendly audience, we played jazzed up versions of SaltPeter tracks like My Lovely Litte Ache and Your Wife to jazz standards and tunes like The Thrill Has Gone and My Funny Valentine. It was our first 3-man gig and it went down well. There was a toddler at the front dancing and later a stampede of people who came to say hello when they recognised the rousing chorus of Oi Oi Savaloy booming from the speakers across to the cider barn opposite. Afterwards we strode across site to explore; There was a lake and on it floated a real and beautiful pirate ship with a rum bar and DJ’s; I made lots of new friends at the Pagoda with total fruit cakes and nutters dancing on the floating dance arena to top DJ sets from the likes of Mark Jones founder of The Wall Of Sound to name just one; There was a magic tree house and hammock area and mountains of hay bales to climb and clamber all over. Over the weekend, night and day, I performed several poetry sets down in The Valley Of The Antics at the Antics Study. It was hosted by the brilliant Hammer and Tongue’s Angry Sam and featured more top performances from the awesome Kate Excentral Tempest and the ranting genius of Yapp among many others. I recall doing a duet at 3am one night, we did IMAGINE IF YOU HAD TO LICK IT with beat box artist and man of the moment, the legendary Beardy Man. That particular morning I seem to remember finding a hen and stag party in a camp site. I danced in the sun-rising and then at lunchtime I took a quick power nap in a posh ladies yurt. That Saturday tea-time I performed at the Central Camp Stage for the beautiful Sophie Barker of Zero 7 fame. I have heard Sophie jamming before with The Egg and I was honoured to be part of it. I knew this would be a total laugh and a cool experiment to be part of. What a top bird! Sophie curated two days of 8-hour Super Star Super Jam’s, featuring musicians from all walks of life and sound - we played as SaltPeanuts again. In true jam style some randoms spontaneously came up from the audience and played with us, a drummer and a saxophonist. It could have gone so wrong, but it was solid gold. Sophie Barker joined us with fabulous BV’s too and we had a riotous time. During the final jam I asked the audience to give me words to improvise into lyrics and that was stupidly funny. The entire weekend of jamming was recorded and there is talk of making a CD for the charity Shelter from the sales. My favourite band of the SGP definitely goes to Turning Green who I managed to see twice. Fabulously exciting music and lovely to chat to too, we’ll be seeing more of them. My most star struck moment was meeting the stellar Jono McCleery. I was a horriblE combination of becoming tongue tied and tipsy, so I babbled and made no sense, but he gave me a Live At Pigalle CD which I am listening to now as I type this. TOP TIP: This guy’s music is pure beauty, he’s a living legend, check him out! There were gorgenius moments that weekend at SGP - highlights include drinking absinthe with SaltPeanuts, the three of us, sat together watching the awesome sight of the pirate ship explode with a shower of gunpowder, fireworks and fire lanterns. Sunday was a gorgeous sunny hay bale morning, drinking cider, water fights and paddling in the lake with a marooned pirate. Lastly, Morcheeba were simply lovely, gentle and easy on the Sunday ear. In my humble and somewhat sun-stroked opinion the only N.O of this particular festival were St Etienne. Run! I hollered, tripping mildly and looking up to see slate clouds morph into black faces, ever-changing and chasing me. Run, run from the N.O music I shouted, laughing, as delicious warm summer rain fell in cooling slurps down the tent…

Now time to finish packing to head to some place in Hertfordshire called Ware and the STANDON FESTIVAL. There is a Japan theme this year and so I have made a costume of sushi and miso and school girls used knickers. I am doing just two slots as follows…See you there!!! Poetry - Salena Godden / Lordship Stage / 20.50 - Saturday 2nd August SaltPeanuts - SaltPeter / Shogun Stage / 14.40 - Sunday 3rd August http://www.standon-calling.com www.saltpeter.co.uk