MARY CONWAY revels in a powerful reminder that human lives are not defined by physical perfection
AWARDS realness over two days kicked off with a party at East London’s Vout-O-Reenees, full of young people in freshly laundered clothes and older ones in new suits.
Poets plied their trade, starting with Dominic Berry thesply projecting, while Lucy Durneen got everyone laughing with a good poem about bad sex. There was knocking on the back door, posing the vital question: “The fucking worst or the worst fucking?”
After that we all needed a drink and the marvellous Maria Ferguson then read with a gin shine, she was working herself to the full glory. She brought humour, reality and punches.
Fears grow for much-anticipated comeback after Williams tweaks knee in match with Aussie Maya Joint
ALAN MORRISON recommends a consummate, heart-warming collection about a working-class upbringing in the industrial north-east
RUTH AYLETT reviews two collections of outright political poetry
OLIVER SNELLING, a south London stonecarver and yeoman stonemason, relates how he is helping bring about a new festival next month


