Good old Mrs Walters

Dear reader, I’ll tell you this much: it’s been a ruddy strange week. Lots of personal stuff, really, which I’m not going to divulge, and baking, which I’ll talk about next time, but! Exciting news! I appear to be going to an open mic night, in Bristol, and I appear to be planning to read poetry there, and well goodness me if I don’t fall over or come out covered in rotten fruit I may well make this a regular thing, in London too.

Although, to be fair, when I was six years old and going up on stage to give my first recital, I tripped on the step and fell flat on my face. My teacher hoiked me up, dusted me off, told me it was all right and I went on and did the recital anyway. So it’s really just the rotten fruit that might be a problem. And even then, well… maybe it’s good for the complexion?

Anyway, dear reader, if you’re around or in Bristol on Thursday 20th, and fancy listening to various people including my good self sharing various stories, poems and whatnots, and don’t have any compostable materials with you, perhaps you’d consider stopping by. Thanks awfully.

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