In case you missed the simple pleasure that was the #derangedpoetess hashtag kicking about on Twitter, I shall briefly summarise. Last week, a journalist called Oliver Thring wrote what can be read as a pretty sexist piece for the Sunday Times about poet Sarah Howe, winner of the T.S.Eliot prize. Some fellow female poets then tweeted to suggest the language he used was somewhat crass (this overview by Katy Evans-Bush details that line of thinking). Thring responded by saying he was being harangued by ‘deranged poetesses’. Continue reading “How To Be A Deranged Poetess”
I recently had a birthday, which was pleasant. I saw my family and some friends, added to my ‘to read’ pile and my gin collection, and I made a cake that induces a sense of euphoria and remorse that I like to call euphorse.
The only trouble is that as I get older, birthdays are beginning to feel a little bit like markers for everything I haven’t done yet – not least because mine falls at the end of the month, where the deadlines live.