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The poetry reading, ‘Hastings – Hackney’, at the Last Tuesday Society on Mare Street, passed off quite successfully

The poetry reading, ‘Hastings – Hackney’, at the Last Tuesday Society on Mare Street, passed off quite successfully. A tight space, packed close, seemed tighter still, as fake walls had been build over the originals as part of an art installation. Like being inside a Pit & Pendulum tale. Lubrication was provided by tea cups of complimentary Henricks Gin with cucumber slices. The poets, as always, sailed far beyond their allotted 15-minute slots. Films, shown as inserts, can’t be rushed. They take the time they take. The affair was like a well-intended seance between ghosts from the past (now struck dumb) and contemporaries who had wandered in from the street. Some accosted me at the door, to hand over sheets of information about projects in hand; they departed before the reading began, explaining how tired they felt after a day’s hard art.

Iain

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