Magazine

Poetry & Translation series – January programme – it would be lovely if you could join us

After a linesman in the Dutch amateur football league was kicked to death, and in London a nurse committed suicide because two Australian DJs played a bad joke on her, I was in desperate need of something frivolous. Luckily there was news from San Francisco.

In translation: Angel & columns by Arnold Jansen op de Haar

Lord Craven craves an author on the last Sunday of each month

The Maya calendar ends on 21 December 2012. Is the end of the world really near? It reminds me of the millennium bug. But the Mayas are really worrying certain people, or in other words, these are the people who are getting ready to travel to Bugarach, a village in the south of France.

Wednesday 19 December at 7.30pm in the Poetry Cafe. We hope you will join us!

Part of being a celebrity is keeping things neat and tidy. Before you know it, your old love letters turn up. Soon someone says, picking up a present from under Christmas tree: ‘Good heavens, what’s this?’ The reply is fumbled: ‘Darling, I’ve bought you Mick Jagger’s love letters.’

Recently the members of the new Dutch government were sworn in by the Queen. They had to redo it because one of the channels had missed the ceremony due to an ad break. The Queen spoke about ‘rehearsing a play’. It reminded me of an old army saying: ‘double-stitched lasts longer’.

I hardly ever pay visits. I love a lively discussion, but rather not in someone’s home. Visiting is a bit superficial, like a ‘novel without an extra layer of meaning’. In the way it invites thoughts like: would they use the living room suite for group sex on a bleak autumn day?

Poery & Translation November Programme

Can you name the person who was recently awarded the Nobel Prize for Physics? You probably can’t. I too would have to look it up. And who won the Nobel Prize for Peace? ‘The EU,’ both of us answer, and we fleetingly think of previous laureates such as Yasser Arafat and Barack Obama.

Recently I spent a day on Portobello Market in London. Two police officers walked past; one was a tall bobby, the other a minute woman police constable. The WPC especially caught the attention: she was a mere five foot but kitted out in the full uniform. I could almost have put her into a box and taken her home.

Poetry & Translation October Programme

That year the Beatles released Love Me Do, Elvis Presley released Return To Sender and Bob Dylan produced his first album. One month earlier Nelson Mandela had been arrested and on the same day Marilyn Monroe had committed suicide. The next day Sonny Liston and Floyd Patterson fought for the boxing heavyweight world title. I was born – it was 24 September 1962 – and the weather was lovely.

Translated by Paul Vincent

I pity Kate’s lackey; of course Kate and William don’t go on holiday without servants.

Why would you do something you’re bad at? For some people it’s their hobby; other people take part in the Paralympics.

Poetry & Translation September programme

Recently, in the German city of Düsseldorf, a 74-year-old official was struck in the carotid artery by a javelin during an athletics competition. The news item also mentioned that: ‘Some of the spectators were in shock and needed psychological counselling.’

As a youngster I’d rather be a Red Indian than a cowboy. I believe they are called Native Americans nowadays but we couldn’t have known that. Actually, fifty per cent of American Indians prefer this term and thirty-seven per cent call themselves Native American.