September 2015


Celebrating National Poetry Day. The Sparrow Bier Cafe presents Glyn Watkins' latest show - Pylons Poetry & Pie. A sparky show about pylons, pies and other good things (warning: this show will contain rhymes, and may feature images and a poet going off on one!). Sparrow. 19.30. 8th Oct.

Celebrating National Poetry Day. The Sparrow Bier Cafe presents Glyn Watkins’ latest show – Pylons Poetry & Pie. A sparky show about pylons, pies and other good things (warning: this show will contain rhymes, and may feature images and a poet going off on one!). Collection taken. Pies available. Sparrow. 19.30. Thurs 8th Oct.

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I walked to the Sparrow this morning to sort the National Poetry Day show (announcement to follow). There was a party of children around Richard Oastler‘s  statue.

 I assumed the adults knew he fought to stop children working in factories for more than 10 hours a day. 

I told the adults about how this statue was paid for by the whole nation, and was put in Bradford because Bradford paid the most. 

A few children gathered to listen. Thinking back I wonder if the adults knew anything of Oastler. I thought about it later and wondered if any of them had the slightest idea who this heroic man was, and why his statue was providing a rest place between discarded kebabs and bits of stale buns. 

I hope what I said makes a few able to add life to a random statue.  

The quote at the end is from Bradford’s Lord Mayor at the opening as a museum in 1915. Oh that those that followed him had thought the same.  

    
 

  

 I do not know when this was placed here, but it was not here when I used to pass the spot on my way to and from different works.  The youngest victim was 8, the majority 16 and under. 

 

  
In Record Cafe. 

  
We’d started the post-mortem in the Beehive, where I apparently beat Keith in a game of bar billiards. Stella had a Geordie mate come over from Harrogate, who’d never been to Bradford. 

At my suggestion we then went to The Castle; were we watched Wales v England whilst singing along to punk music. I met another Welshman, and me and Stella sang along to Jilted John’s Gordon is a moron. 

We then went to the Record and Sparrow. 

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