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In conjunction with Yellow-Lighted Bookshop

Simon Armitage is an award-winning poet who also writes extensively for theatre, television and radio. During the evening, he will read from a range of his work and answer questions from the audience.

Armitage was born in Marsden, West Yorkshire. His numerous accolades include a prestigious Ivor Novello Award for song-writing for the BAFTA-winning film, Feltham Sings. He has published over a dozen collections of poetry including his two latest books, The Unaccompanied (Faber) and Flit (Yorkshire Sculpture Park).

His acclaimed translation of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight has sold over 100,000 copies and a new illustrated edition is out this Autumn.

Armitage is also the author of two novels and three best-selling memoirs, All Points North, Walking Home and Walking Away. His theatre works include The Last Days of Troy, which played at the Royal Exchange Theatre, Manchester, and Shakespeare’s Globe.

He is Professor of Poetry at the University of Leeds and was elected Professor of Poetry at the University of Oxford in 2015. He was awarded the CBE for services to poetry in 2010.

Visit his website at www.simonarmitage.com

Yellow Lighted Bookshops – independent Bookshops in South Gloucestershire

“So often, a visit to a bookshop has cheered me and reminded me that there are good things in the world.”
Vincent van Gogh, 1877

We have two bookshops:  Tetbury:  21 Church Street, 01666 500221, and Nailsworth: 17 Fountain Street, 01453 832 555.

You May Turn Over and Begin

‘Which of these films was Dirk Bogarde not in? One hundredweight of bauxite

makes how much aluminium?
how many tales in ‘The Decameron’?’

General Studies, the upper sixth, a doddle, a cinch for anyone with an ounce of common sense

or a calculator with a memory feature.

Having galloped through but not caring enough to check or double-check, I was dreaming of

milk-white breasts and nakedness, or more specifically virginity.

That term – everybody felt the heat but the girls were having none of it:

long and cool like cocktails, out of reach, their buns and pigtails

only let out for older guys with studded jackets and motor-bikes and spare helmets.

One jot of consolation was the tall spindly girl riding pillion

on her man’s new Honda who, with the lights at amber,

put down both feet and stood to stretch her limbs, to lift the visor and push back her fringe

and to smooth her tight jeans.
As he pulled off down the street

she stood there like a wishbone, high and dry, her legs wide open,

and rumour has it he didn’t notice til he came round in the ambulance

having underbalanced on a tight left-hander.
‘A Taste of Honey’. Now I remember.

Copyright: Simon Armitage.


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