Write Night: St Pauls Arts Centre Worthing

 

Worthing is my home town. My parents met, fell in love and got married there. I was conceived there, though I am Brightonian by birth. Apart from most of the war years I lived in the same house in Cranworth Road and went to Lyndhurst Road and Sussex Road Schools. I worked in a little shop and coffee bar in Bath Place until I went to work as a Post Office telephonist. My mum worked at the Connaught Theatre and my Dad worked at Lelliotts who made shop blinds.

 

So familiar with the town centre and yet yesterday afternoon I went into St Pauls for I do believe the first time. I have had a good think about it and cannot remember ever going in that church. The Connaught is across Chapel Road from there as is The Post Office. I’ve been in the library around the corner countless times and all the shops nearby, but never entered that building whilst it was one of the town churches. I attended St Georges Church and Christchurch with my school.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The reason Steve and I went there last night, was that it is now the new venue for the Worthing Wow Write Nights. The church that is a grade II listed building and has had a two million pound refurbishment to turn it into a community venue. Although I thought it made a very interesting Café and Arts centre, I could not see where two million pounds went. A few tables and chairs, a settee or two plus the counter of the café and I suppose it has a kitchen now. But on the other hand I can see that it is now very useful for all sorts on functions like concerts, expo’s, meetings and gatherings of all kinds. 

I felt more comfortable being there for an evening of poetry and stories rather that Frasers Bar above the reception area of the Connaught over the road where these evenings were held previously. Neither Steve nor I have any use or liking for bars.

 

 

The café is very pleasant and the 50’ ceilings make it feel very light and spacious, though there is no getting away from the certain knowledge at a glance, that it was a church. However, I like churches much more then I like bars.

 

Steve and I chose to sit at one of the little café tables close to the door, we always to that in strange places; a sort of prepare for flight thing!  We had thought that this would mean we were sitting at the back because the chancel is at the far end of course. Well that was a mistake; we found out soon after the delightfully bubbly Melody Bridges opened the evening, by first going around taking names of people who wanted to share some of their work, and then with a little welcoming talk when she positioned herself with her back to the door which in turn meant, that we were sitting at the front and not in the easy escape spot at the back as planned.

 

 

 

 

 

 

When Melody had got around to our table, she did a quick double take at me because she had not seen me since I started to grow my hair again, it been over a year and I suppose that a crisp sporty hair cut is a far cry from the fuzzy curly mess my hair has grown back into. That surprise over Melody, came to me and said “Would you like to start the evening off and go first Daphne, you are always so confident”. Wrong Melody; I am always a nervous wreck approaching Write Nights and suffer a few sleepless nights preparing for them. I can’t imagine how she came to that conclusion about me. 

I read three of my most recant poems that were all on the dark side but then I have seen some dark happenings around my friends and family of late and it put me in mind of other sad times in my life and that is why I made these choices.

 

 

I read ‘Tricking my Memory Now Set Ablaze’ which is about the time years ago when both of my parents were suffering life threatening illnesses in two hospitals ten miles or so apart, making it a double agony. Another poem was one called, ‘For Beth’ and that sends my love and thoughts to a friend who is battling bravely with Cancer though she is roughly thirty years younger than I.  The last and most recent is called ‘For Michael’ and is about an absolutely shocking event; the murder of our cousin’s nephew, 27 year old Michael Hoolickin, who was stabbed a number of times whilst trying to help somebody else. He was just a young man, who all his family loved and he leaves a young child tragically without a father. This happened quite recently and though Steve and I had never met Michael, we feel sad and helpless for his family and share their grief. 

I know I should have taken something lighter to finish my reading on, but in my head I could not get away from all this recent dreadful news. 

I did manage to get through my readings without being overcome by emotion and because the first half dozen times I read them aloud at home as practice, I had ended in floods of tears. I worked on the reading until I could hold myself together and keep my head on straight. I was glad I had practiced so diligently to convey the terrible events of late without drowning the poems with tears.