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the firestation

Julian H Cope at The Firestation – reviewed

by Richmond Harding

At last, the waiting is over, he steps on stage, ACID DRENCHED AND SILVER SKINNED, a comic book hero, biker king, a self-styled messiah, stretching, preacher thin, hidden eyes surveying the “mosh pit” below with a threatening stare, a wolf amongst the sheep….

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Royal Berkshire Poetry Competition

by Beat

Every poet is invited to submit one entry, it can use any poetic form, but must be previously unpublished, the poet’s own work and less than 40 lines.
The judges are looking for distinct poetic voices that display originality, craftsmanship and memorability

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Hubble bubble toil and… Hitchin!

by Hannah Masters-Waage

With a pinch of creativity here and a dash of experimentation there Hitchin’s Lab produces a very entertaining open mic.

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Monica Ward keeps Bez and Domino Bones from toppling

by Hannah Masters-Waage

“Stand up Windsor!” shouted Bez as he began ranting like a pill-popping preacher. At the same time Ward was using that instrument of hers to great effect, splicing together the songs in a chaotic rollercoaster ride of an arrangement.

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Matt Beaumont – The Interview

by Melanie Gow

An astronaut enjoyed my first book so much that he took my picture to space. This does sound pretty incredible and I wouldn’t believe it myself if I didn’t have some evidence. I’ve got a photograph of Piers Sellers (the spaceman) holding a photocopied jacket shot of me against the window of a space shuttle. You can see Planet Earth through the glass, 115 miles below.

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Steve Feasey – The Interview

by Melanie Gow

I have such a strange memory of my childhood and teenage years – I seem to have simply blocked out great chunks of it. I do remember feeling terribly inadequate during my teenage years. Everyone else seemed to know what they wanted out of life, and which direction they were going to go. I just felt…adrift. I was at my happiest when I had my head stuck in a book. Looking back on it now, that may not have been a bad thing.

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