Travelling ghosts

There's a chill running down my spine as I sit down to type this... It isn't ghosts that are to blame, however, but Cumbrian snowfall and a broken boiler. Nonetheless, I've had the privilege of reading in a number of haunted places recently: a few weeks ago, I performed a selection of pieces from 'A Pint...' in the grand setting of Marlborough College, the school attended by Betjeman, Nick Drake and others. Students murmured about strange sightings in the library, a ghostly child in the grounds and other stories, but I was too busy staring at the imposing buildings to take much of it in. Besides, never mind the opulent grounds of the school, the highlight of my trip to Swindon's environs was encountering the world's weirdest roundabout.

On November 20th, myself and seven other poets arrived at sleepy Aspinall Street in Mytholmroyd to take part in an exciting project organised by Andrew McMillan. Our destination was Ted Hughes' childhood house, a black brick terrace that now has a thoroughly (and surprisingly) modern interior. The day-long event, 'Crossing Borders' saw four poets with Lancashire connections (Mike Barlow, Sarah Hymas, Clare Shaw and Steve Waling) and four with Yorkshire links (myself, Joe Hakim, Ben Wilkinson and Sally Baker) divided into pairs and challenged to produce new, collaborative poems exploring the idea of landscape and its borders. I was paired with Mike Barlow and we set out on a muddy walk with some trepidation, only to find ourselves quickly agreeing that we'd like to write something that explored the way a hill seems different depending on which side you approach it from. Our piece adopted the voices of two mountaineers, one from the east and one from the west who meet at the summit of the peak and swap routes.

The day produced a striking variety of collaborations, which Sarah Hymas has described much more articulately here. I also had high hopes of startling a ghost or two from the Aspinall Street house where some of us spent the night. After muttering about ouija boards, we went to an excellent real ale pub instead and stumbled back after last orders for a night's sleep, undisturbed by the spirits of Ted and Sylvia... Now there's a surprise.

On Sunday, I performed at Maryport literature festival and a trip to the Senhouse Roman Museum surely unsettled a centurian ghost or two: the venue was right next to the museum with its variety of relics and murals.In between visiting these ghostly locations, I've also recently been to Peterborough to perform at 'Speakeasy' in the Brewery Tap. You couldn't ask for a better organised evening of poetry, or a more responsive, friendly audience. A big thank you to Mark Grist and everyone else who made the evening such a pleasure.

Later this week, snow permitting, I'll be appearing at The Poetry Cafe in Covent Garden on Thursday as part of a tall-lighthouse event, then for the fantastic 'Wordlife' in Bradford on Friday night at the Theatre in the Mill, Sheffield Saturday night and Sheffield again on Monday.

The last month has been dominated by a bit of exciting news from Picador: myself and nine other poets (including Alan Buckley and Ben Wilkinson, also published by tall-lighthouse) have made the shortlist for the inaugural Picador Prize for a first collection. The shortlist was mentioned in The Guardian here. You can read poems by all the shortlisted entrants here.

Now, back to building a fire and trying to keep the chill at bay! If all else fails, there's always the whisky...