Now we turn to the Toaster. Wonderful poet Sharron Green has penned a beautiful piece on how a toaster can really be a vital part of our lives.
Despite cussing when my own toaster pops up with charcoaled bread, I couldn’t be without one either. Do you remember toasting bread under the grill?! Dire!!
Do read this great poem..
A poem about my Toaster
As a non-cook, but clearly a boaster, I’m exceedingly fond and proud of my toaster.
It enables creations to be more than they might, heating cross buns to a crunchy delight.
My crumpets become a delicate shell in which oodles of butter cosily dwell.
It has a timer, that I’ve learnt to turn to exactly the spot between ‘just right’ and ‘burn’.
I’ve the option of one slice, two or all four (and when they pop up, I can swiftly post more).
My signature dish, ‘Beans on Toast’ (must be Heinz) with shavings of cheese, pleases hearts if not minds.
I know as a chef I’d never get far but my toaster and I are Michelin Star.
@rhymes_n_roses
Isn’t it marvellous?! And true?! Thank you so much, Sharron, more please.
Thanks for tuning in, PL’s. We’ll return with more poetry action real soon….
Yes, you should be excited, because our special guest today is unique and prolific poet Ted Gooda!!
(Standing ovation as our esteemed guest glides on)
Welcome to the show, Ted. So glad you have you as a guest
(audience agree heartily)
Great to be here, Heather. Love what you’ve done with the place!
Thank you. Dobby chose the colours. Of course decorating’s not the same since Homebase went. Sob!
Why don’t you fill us in on your background?
A bit about myself? I began life as ‘Theresa McEvoy’ in North London, but my parents ran pubs and we moved to one in Billingshurst, West Sussex when I was around 11.
Coming from London and stepping off a train into that deserted village on a Sunday afternoon, I thought I’d moved to the end of the world. I rushed back to London as soon as I was old enough.
I studied English & Theatre Arts at Goldsmiths College, by which time most people were calling me ‘Ted’ or ‘Teddy’ instead of Theresa. I trained as a lighting designer, taking 4 shows to the Edinburgh Festival in the late 1990s and working in lots of fringe theatre venues around Central and South East London.
I did plenty of travelling and even lived in Australia for a while, before deciding it was time to curb the wanderlust and be a grown-up: I trained as an English and Drama teacher.
In my late 20s, I realised my parents might have been on to something, and moved right back to that deserted village. I taught for more than 25 years in schools in Surrey and Sussex as well as returning to Australia to teach in Hamilton, Western Victoria.
Before the pandemic, I’d accidentally become a ghostwriter, and as the writing contracts grew, I gradually stepped back from teaching, although I still teach run creative writing workshops from time to time. I made the leap and write full-time, (I’m just on ghostwritten book number 16), plus organise literary festivals.
This is fascinating, Ted. What vast ground you have covered!
When did poetry become a part of your life?
Poetry has always been there, I think. I wrote terrible poetry in my teens – about the storm of ‘87, the Gulf War, environmental disasters, things that were in the news. Very earnest and very awful. And I taught a lot of poetry over the years.
About 15 years ago I won a writing competition with a poem about becoming a mother, and that encouraged me to think I could do more. I finally published my first collection of poems, Silence & Selvedge, in 2024.
Oh I want a copy! We get that turning point, don’t we.
Who were your biggest influences?
My favourite poem as a child was I Saw a Jolly Hunter by Charles Causley. I learnt it by heart and thought it was hilarious. Another favourite, that I could probably still recite now, was Oh, I Wish I’d Looked After Me Teeth by Pam Ayres.
And I loved all the poems that snuck into Beatrix Potter’s stories.
As a student, I got heavily into Irish poetry (the McEvoy influence perhaps?), especially Yeats and Heaney. But Luke Wright has probably had the single biggest practical influence on my poetry life. I love his poetic word-play and the energy of his live shows.
I met him early on in my teaching career when he did a bunch of school performances and have been a fan ever since.
Oh Luke Wright! Swoon! He was the first performance poet I ever saw! Great influences, Ted.
Are you working on anything at the moment?
You know me, Heather, I don’t sit still. After coordinating the Farnham Literary Festival in March, and BilliLit in April, I’m performing in a theatre show at the Brighton Fringe for May. It’s called Mannequim. I co-wrote it with Lexy Medwell and it’s full of poetry, exploring all sorts of gender issues and tackling that question of what it means to be a woman. (Quite timely given last month’s controversial ruling.)
Then The Shrinking Girl, ghostwritten for Louise Allen, comes out in June. I’m directing one of my favourite plays for Billingshurst Dramatic Society, My Mother Said I Never Should by Charlotte Keatley, which will be on in July.
I have a couple of poetry events booked for August and September and then my second poetry pamphlet, The Pull of Water, will be out later in the autumn.
Well, I am bowled over at your prolificness. What a year you are going to have!
(Audience cheer in agreement).
Now, What’s the best poetry gig you’ve ever done. And the worst?!
My best poetry gig was for the Shelley Memorial Project in 2024, where my name was on the bill with Louis de Bernières (although he had a longer slot than my 15 minutes). I’ve framed the poster. Will I ever top that?
My worst was around 4 years ago in Steyning, a village which has a rather famous resident. There were about 20 of us in a pub doing a single poem each, which had to be Christmas-themed.
It was almost my turn, when a woman arrived late and squashed in beside me, thereby taking the next slot. She recited, by heart, a beautiful, wholesome poem about a Christmas tree, which had just been published as The Christmas Pine. It was only Julia feckin’ Donaldson – and I had to follow her with my sweary poem about buying crap gifts as Christmas presents. It was mortifying.
Oh what a story! Love it! I know Steyning! I’ll look at it in a different light now!
Thank you, Ted for being such a great guest
(cheers from the audience)
Do I really have to end this interview on ‘mortifying’? You’re mean! 😉
au contraire! The poetry party is just beginning. Let me just get my platforms on.
Our host searches frantically under her chair
Where are they?!
Our esteemed guest looks sheepish
Ted?! Are you wearing my platforms?!
Er – well, Dobby sold them to me at a reasonable price and er ….. She’s rumpled us, Dobby. Quick!
(Our guest and Dobby leg it up the lighted stairs)
Ted won’t be able to run very fast in those!
Well, it’s back to Freeman Hardy & Willis for me!
Wasn’t Ted a fantastic guest, PL’s?!
(ecstatic applause from the audience and a standing ovation)
Do look out for Ted, she’s a wonderful poet. For a copy of Ted’s book Silence & Selvedge, go to Ted’s website to order http://theresagooda.co.uk
Thanks for attending the talk show studio, Poetry Lovers. We’ll be back with more poetry action real soon….
Today, as part of the Household series, I thought I’d have a go at the washing machine.
This is a little unjust really as it normally is a loyal member of your house.
However, I find it very controlling and I still bear a grudge about that horrible noisy Hotpoint twin tub my Mum used to have. It’s vibration rocking the whole house when I was trying to watch Blue Peter!
I could go on but I won’t. Instead I’ve tried to sum it up in the following piece. Read on
The thing with a washing machine is
The thing is with washing machines
Is you become intimate very quickly
It handles your smalls and underclothes
And stains embarrassing and sticky
It sounds reassuring and smooth
Not like your childhood family kitchen
With that evil and noisy Hotpoint twin tub
An obnoxious force and imposition
But it does have its own magic powers
And make your socks disappear
Maim expensive and loved garments
The price of indifference severe
So treat it with love and respect
Just the right amount of detergent
It wants to be part of your household
But not just a mechanical servant
HM 2025
I hope this resonated with you, PL’s. Stay tuned, we’ll be back with more poetry action real soon….
For this post, I thought I’d feature things that are around us. These are usually domestic appliances and household goods, which I thought could be rich pickings.
These items come across as impersonal and yet they’re not. They become a part of us, and sweep up and clean our anguishes and emotions.
Anyway, I’ve picked on the dishwasher on this occasion. Do read on
The Thing with dishwashers is
Your plates reek of rinse aid
To them on a par with Kool-aid
your chinaware is sautéed
You don’t feel in control
your homeware losing its soul
Especially your dessert bowls
But no more scrubbing with suds
While wearing cheap rubber gloves
making you resentful yet smug
Consider your poor fading china
Vital to any kind of diner
Supermarket bought, not designer
Glasses discoloured and faded
The heart of your house invaded
You feel naked and violated
And you’re still scrubbing larger pans
Ruining your once girlish hands
Ironically only the dishwasher understands
HM 2025
I hope you liked that, PL’s. All domestic poems are welcome. A piece on the washing machine perhaps, or that dustpan and brush!
Thanks for tuning in, Poetry Lovers. We’ll be back with more poetry action real soon….
Now who has missed our pets dreadfully when we have gone on a trip?! Everyone, I bet.
Lovely poet Trisha Broomfield has had such a recent experience, flying off to the states and longing to take her beautiful cat Perry with her. I myself have yearned to take Dobby in my suitcase too.
This piece by Trisha sums up our feelings beautifully. Read on, it’s a really lovely and wistful poem
Oh Cat
Oh cat, I know you would have packed your bag,
Champagne is free, you could have drunk your fill
Up here you’re not allowed to smoke that fag,
You’d have expected me to foot the bill
In my daydreams cat you’re right here with Me
Peering out of the window at the sky
White whiskers twitching, ears on high alert
We’re higher than any birds can fly
I’ll check with British Airways, it can’t harm
They may allow a cool cat like yourself
Perhaps pretend you’re fur around my arm
I’d stow you with my flight bag on the shelf
When I return I’ll tell you of my trip
Into my luggage next time you can slip
Sonnet 20.5.25 Trisha Broomfield
Wasn’t that a terrific piece?! I was virtually on that plane with Dobby reading that! Thank you, Trisha. I’m so glad you had a good trip, with or without a feline companion.
Thanks for tuning in, PL’s. We’ll be back with more poetry action real soon…..
Yes, you should be excited! Because our guest today is the talented and enigmatic Cheryl Mclennan!
(Standing ovation as our esteemed poet descends the lighted staircase)
Welcome to the show, Cheryl. So happy you could join us.
(Audience cheer. Security on standby)
Hey Heather.
Great to be here with you on this sunny day, yes I’d love a cuppa, thanks, just give the tea bag a quick wiggle, a chocolate biscuit? mmmmm.
Oh look out here comes the Dobby.
Oi, Dobby! Leave Cheryl’s tea alone!
So lovely to have you here, Cheryl.
Please fill us in on your background
A bit of background, as a young person my education was severely disrupted because I spent a lot of time in hospital and was also coping with many other issues too.
I was relentlessly bullied at school for being so tall but somehow I managed to muddle through, often playing the role of the class clown to survive, which did me no favours other than perhaps to give me some confidence towards performing.
I always loved drama, reading and storytelling and often bagged the lead role in plays, either that or the rear end of an extremely long legged and wonky horse.
The request I most dreaded was “Cheryl would you like to play the part of a lovely tall tree” it was obviously me, my legs bound in some itchy crepe paper and my body wrapped up like a burst pipe, in a pair of someones old musty green curtains, also wearing an oversized headdress, made from straws, covered coathangers and the likes, not the best look, when you’re 6 Feet tall, and also expected to sway dramatically from side to side in an imaginary storm. Honestly, really.. huh, and no lines to boot!
Awful, isn’t it. I’ve seen tall girls get a lot of flack! And a raw deal!
At least it opened doors for you later on, but it must have been miserable at the time.
I’ve done loads of courses, including creative and script writing, tv and video production, some media studies, this alongside working in mental health and many other community projects, in-between spending further time in hospital having hip replacements, revisions and revisions of the revisions.
Oh Cheryl, I’m so sorry you had to go through these things. I hope recovery is on the cards.
Otherwise, you’ve been incredibly prolific. A great learning ground.
Who were your biggest influences?
Some influences were Spike Milligan..Arlo and Woody Guthrie..Bob Dylan.. leonard Cohen.. Stevie Smith.. Joni Mitchell and Tracey Chapman, The Liverpool poets and John Cooper Clarke.. but also, importantly was the influence of the poets I met, wrote and performed with.
Poetry and performing came alive for me much later in life, I was too busy just trying to get by.
I was so lucky to meet Murray Shelmadine and others on a Birbeck creative writing course at Jacksons Lane Community and Arts center.
Murray suggested once the course finished that we all could meet at Queens Wood Cafe which had been restored by himself and Wanjuku, who is sadly no longer with us.
We met once a week for ten years or so and established Queens Wood Writers and publishers, published anthologies of our short stories, and ran a brilliant monthly poetry and music night, hosted by Alan Wolfson.
This is when and where I gained full confidence to perform and to wing my words out there as a working class woman. I was always encouraged by other poets, it was fun and inclusive, a happy and creative time.
My first gig was at Bang Said The Gun. I was part of Rrrrants Collective ( Paul Eccentric) The Anti Poets. Paul hosted some brilliant nights, again this opened up lots of opportunities and experience for me, there were so many excellent spoken word nights and I featured at many of them.
At this time Rrrrants published my CD [AHEM] my work was included in several anthologies and I also contributed to podcasts.
I have dipped in and out of comedy, I was able to flip my poetry. One of the best nights was at the comedy cafe in Shoreditch. It was a large, friendly young crowd, who started laughing before I started my set, which made me nervous, but it went down a storm, even though I say so myself, and why not?
Ah Jacksons Lane! Such memories!
Bang Said The Gun is supposed to be terrific. I wish I’d been there. And you have a CD?! I would love to get a copy.
(A ripple of agreement from the audience)
Are you working on anything at the moment?
After much procrastination I’ve finally finished my book, and hope it will be published in October.
I’m currently writing short stories and poetry, and wibble myself out on my tricky hips now and then to poetry nights..yay!
Oh I want to get my hands on that! (Audience cheer in agreement)
Now, (sweeps everything off the desk. Audience gasp nervously)
What’s the best gig you’ve ever done? And the Worst?!
As for the best poetry night, I can’t really say I just went with the flow and had a great time.
The worst ever gig was in Brockwell Park, it was a seriously hot day, the late Jazzman John was there bouncing as usual his wonderful Beat poetry, with myself and others, we were close to a noisy generator, tons of stalls, a miniature ferris wheel, screaming kids, llamas, sheep and chickens, honestly it was crazy
Our audience consisted of one restless pigeon and a small child crying while holding a melting ice cream, the mic stand fell over, the next act who were musicians came onto the make do stage while I was reading a poem about Sherbert Lemons and started setting up their equipment and even did a soundcheck, it was absolute chaos.
Oh Cheryl, what a nightmare! The way artists are treated! A real learning curve.
Well, Cheryl, I could talk to you all day. Thank you for being such a great guest
(rapturous applause)
Thanks Heather, it’s been great, I’ve had a right smashing time.
Quite literally, as Dobby’s just knocked over your cup!
So what are you up to tonight, Cheryl?
The Poetry Shack disco? Jack Shamash seemed up for that. I’ll just change into my platforms…
(Our esteemed guest shuffles awkwardly)
Oh, I get it! You’re taking Dobby, aren’t you?! That’s why she’s lurking round!
Well – er – we’ll see you around.
Quick, Dobby!
(The pair leg it fast to rapturous applause)
Oh don’t worry, I prefer a night in with Softly Softly anyway!
Wasn’t Cheryl a fabulous guest, PL’s ?! We look forward to reading her new book.
(huge huge applause).
Thanks for dropping by the talk show studio, Poetry Lovers. We’ll be back with more poetry action real soon….
Heather Moulson 