I'm proud to appear alongside so many writer friends and acquaintances in Lewes' The Needlewriters, a new anthology.

I was supposed to have been at the launch of a new poetry anthology last Thursday but, unfortunately, I was struck down with the latest lurgey and had to take to my bed instead. I am sad to have missed the launch of this excellent book, The Needlewriters, which is an anthology of work by the writers who have appeared at Lewes' Needlewriters events since its beginning in 2008.  The readings take place just down the street from my house, at the intriguing Needlemakers centre which was built as a candle-makers before becoming, quite literally, a needle-makers factory, supplying syringe needles for the medical corps treating the wounded in World War One. It is now a pleasant complex of arty shops and a restaurant.

 I was proud to have been asked to read there after the publication of my novel, Stephen Dearsley's Summer Of Love and now, I'm doubly proud to appear in this anthology along with so many writer friends and acquaintances from all over Kent and Sussex.

Needlewriters have also produced The Needlewriters Companion,  an online anthology with extra work from all the contributors - you can find it by using the link below:

http://www.needlewriters.co.uk/#/the-needlewriters-companion/4588177767


The book, The Needlewriters can be purchased (£10) either directly from the publisher, The Frogmore Press,

http://www.frogmorepress.co.uk/

or from Lewes' splendid Skylark Shop - unlike Lewes's other rather anonymous and centrally-controlled bookshops, its owner, Matt Birch,  is one of the few great independent booksellers who actively support local writers. He even sells copies of my novel (thanks Matt!)

http://www.skylarkshop.com/

 Those of us who are lucky enough to live in or around Lewes can be truly grateful for the support that this small town gives to literature and the other arts.

George Best, Miss World and Me: What better subject for my latest Fibonacci Poem?

George Best and Mary Stävin.

As a youngish man in the early days of my career in television, I had the intriguing and unlikely job of having a breakfast meeting with one of the most talked-about of all British footballers, the legendary George Best. We were scheduled to meet in London at the decidedly posh restaurant in up-market department store, Fortnum and Mason in Piccadilly. I arrived as myself, a media type, an unglamorous journo on day-release. He arrived with his current girlfriend, the then Miss World, the very beautiful Swedish actress, Mary Stävin, best known, perhaps, as one of the 'Bond Girls' in the James Bond movie, Octopussy.

Mary Stävin and Roger Moore in the James bond movie,Octopussy.

 The photograph above of George and Mary was taken that year and shows that they were, no exaggeration, a very handsome couple. Not only was I the odd-one out in the glamour stakes but I had no interest either in the Miss World contest or football.

George Best in action.

Strangely, we all got on really well - well enough for me to tell George that I was hoping to get fit and had recently started going to a once-a-week fitness class at the Stretford Leisure Centre in Greater Manchester. OK, I know, not very cool. The rest of the breakfast, when the work had been done, was devoted to this famous and now ( for a time) sober athlete giving me one-to-one advice on my fitness regime. He told me I was wasting my time only taking exercise once a week and, it was thanks to him, that I started the regular fitness regime that I have followed ever since that day. I owe it all to George.

I've been writing a lot of what is known as Fibonacci poetry in the last seven years and, recently, I've been fitting some of my television career memories into this toughly disciplined short form style where each line has to  conform to a strict syllabic count using the arithmetic code popularised in Europe by the medieval Italian mathematician, Leonardo Fibonacci. This weekend six of my new poems were published in the specialist Fibonacci journal,  Musepie Press' The Fib Review, and one of them was my poem about George. My thanks, as always to Mary-Jane Grandimetti, the editor of The Fib Review, who has encouraged me since my early days as a poet and who has now published 49 of my Fibs in 16 consecutive issues of her great journal.

Here is the page featuring my George Best poem but, for the rest of my Fibs and for many more by other poets, click on the link below:

http://www.musepiepress.com/fibreview/index.html

If you're a real glutton for punishment, click on the writer archive section and you'll find links to all 49 of my Fibonacci poems.

 Meanwhile, I have to start thinking about #21 of The Fib Review hoping to come up with something to send in  next time.

Night walking: a good way to come down after a poetry reading.

Wolfie Wolfgang reading last night

Last night in Lewes, UK, there was a chill in the air and, or so I'm told,  snow on the outskirts, but it was warm enough in the Lewes Arms, my local pub, when it hosted the 7th anniversary of Lewes Poetry and showcased some of the poets who have read there over the years. I was glad to be invited back as I have happy memories of the first time I read there as, six years go,  it was the venue for my very first poetry reading as I described in yesterday's blog.

Lewes Arms Pub, Lewes.

There was a good turnout considering we, the South-East English, are known to make an unnecessary fuss if the January temperatures sink anywhere lower than warm. The success of Lewes Poetry, and the reason why so many people risked less than mild temperatures, belongs to its host and creator, the wonderfully chaotic Ollie Wilson, poet and compere at these suitably anarchic events where 'stage' poets share the stage with 'page' poets and everyone gets along just fine. I read some of my recent re-writes of my first poems which all dated from 2009 and this seemed a suitable anniversary for their first public reading. I had been nervous about tinkering with poems that had already been published and, possibly, set in stone, but they seemed to go down well, people clapped, laughed and were silent in all the right places,  and I left feeling that those rewrites of early poems still had something to say, but now had much stronger legs, considering that they written when I didn't really know what I was doing.

Ollie Wilson

Outside, as you can see in the photos below, if they weren't at the Lewes Arms,  or some other local hostelry, Lewesians were all snuggled up at home. Well, you don't want to catch cold on a chilly January night.

When Lewes is busy, it is very, very busy, but when it is quiet, it's deserted.

It is a real pleasure wandering outside on a night like this when the streets, or so it seems, belong to me.

I always feel a bit stranger than usual after performing my poetry - it's an exposing experience where hidden parts of myself have a brief public airing, and, afterwards, I need to take time to return to what, I guess, is 'normal'.

On nights such as these, there's nothing better than a solitary walk in the middle of town, especially when it is as pretty as Lewes.

If you're interested in Lewes Poetry, here's the link:
http://lewespoetry.blogspot.co.uk/