Ö÷²¥´óÐã

A poet's life is never dull. Tuesday 19th October and I'll be in Betws-y-Coed with Ifor ap Glyn. He is a good poet, and very entertaining - but will anybody come to the gig?

The drive north from Ceredigion is glorious. Vast rain-clouds peel off the Irish Sea, sweeping east and leaving a clear blue sky. From the moment we turn inland at Aberystwyth, the mountains are red with bracken, trees turning gold, with the most intense rainbow I ever remember over the slate grey town of Blaenau Ffestiniog. The room in the Gwydyr Hotel awaits.

Dwynwen from Llanrwst sets out her stall of books for sale, the Academi banner is hung. We talk over high tea, egg and chips and a glass of Sauvignon Blanc.

The usual early birds don’t arrive. Fearing the worst, Ifor and I prepare for a change of plan. We abandon the lectern, draw comfortable chairs close, and wait. In the event we’re not a crowd but an intimate group, which has its own charm.

Ifor and I read a few poems a time, responding to each other, matching poem to poem. He has prepared translations to hand to the audience, and reads in Welsh and in English, weaving between the two as nimbly as a sheepdog.

One curious fact: I am exhausted! It takes far more energy to communicate poetry to a few in a big room than to light the spark with a full house of adults, or an audience of 2000 teenagers.

Thursday 21st October - off to Builth Wells to read at the Wyeside Centre with Paul Henry. I am as confident in Paul as I was in Ifor, but success lies with the audience. They can make or break the magic, so I’m nervous.

Again, the drive is beautiful, 60 miles through red mountains even rosier in the light of a low sun, with sudden visions of yellow – a golden tree, a sunlit slope. Is there a lovelier season to travel through Wales?

I need not have worried. It turns out to be a great evening. Builth is a town with a heart, a feeling of community, and the Royal Welsh has established a habit of gathering. In the excellent High School poetry is valued in English and in Welsh.

The venue is warm, arty, purposeful, and as we arrive people are gathering in the bar. The little theatre space is comfortably full. People have come from Hereford, Presteigne, Cardiff. Paul is funny, warm, and moving too, and the lovely audience makes the magic happen.

Phew! What a relief! There’s a long and winding road to go before Christmas.

Gillian Clarke
National Poet of Wales

Gillian Clarke is blogging for the Ö÷²¥´óÐã during her seven-date poetry tour of Wales, which runs until 10 December 2010. For more information on the visit the Academi website.