A F HARROLD IN CARDIGAN

Last Thursday I made my way over to Cardigan to see A F Harrold at the Word Up! Poetry Night, (first Thursday of every month, at the Castle Cafe, Cardigan) and to spend some time with my friends Sue and Dai. It was the first time I'd been there since standing down as Chairman, and it was nice to have no pressure to do anything. Simone has well and truly taken over and is rapidly making the night a part of her "Empire" - she's booking poets to perform, putting them up at her place (some massive country pile by all accounts) then getting them to give a writer's workshop the following day (I presume she also gets mucho funding for this...) and I'm glad to be out of it.
However, I digress.
A F Harrold is a name I have heard often over the years, and one with a big reputation attached to it, so I took along some high expectations.
He was younger than I'd thought he'd be; the same age as my wife.
He was one of those rare people with whom I could just sit down and start rapping. We talked incessantly until the start of the proceedings. I bought all 3 of his books. At a discount. I now need to send him one of mine.
His very first poem had me in hysterics. I don't think this has ever happened before. He was an awesome performer, one of the best I have ever seen. There were hints of Hegleyism in his delivery at times, but I'm sure they could be slapped out of him given the chance. His material pisses all over Hegley's. (No offence intended John, I think I remember a poem of yours I enjoyed once, or it could have been Simon Armitage.)
The night was pretty much a blur - I hardly ever drink these days, but I had an old-fashioned thirst on, and a few too many pints were drank, judging by the axe-wound to my skull the following morning. I'd also smoked more than enough weed, but I don't think I behaved too badly, considering.
I'm now perusing the books at my leisure. The poems to his father are very moving indeed. I like the mixture of light and dark in his act. Just like mine used to be.