Happiness by Design: Interview with Paul Dolan

Hello! The podcast has brought lots of new visitors to my blog, so I wanted to quickly introduce myself again:

My name is Annie Muir and I am a poet. I have been handing out poems on the street outside local libraries, recording my encounters with strangers and their opinions about poetry on this blog, since 2017. Last year I made a podcast, Time for one Poem, aimed at complete beginners to poetry. In the first part of each episode I interview one poet about how they got into poetry, and in the second part I talk to a poetry-sceptic about why they didn’t. We then go through a poem together and see what we can make of it.

Before I set out to make my podcast, I was lucky enough to be able to talk to Paul Dolan – Professor of Behavioural Science at the London School of Economics, and author of two bestselling books. In the interview, he explains how his books are trying to help people live happier lives, and I tell him how the approach to happiness in his book Happiness by Design inspired me to carry on with my project.

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(Annie Muir) First of all, how would you describe your job to someone you’ve just met in a pub?

(Paul Dolan) I do research into human behaviour and happiness. I try to understand what things influence how people behave in certain environments, for example when they’re in the pub! And I also look into how we might measure and capture the wellbeing effects of what people do, and how happy they feel – be that moment to moment or as they reflect upon their lives – and I think about how we can use all or any of this evidence to inform policy decisions.


(Annie) What I really loved about Happiness By Design when I first read it – as you know, I sent you a long fan-email about how much I loved it and how much it has influenced my life – was just that introduction: the simplicity of a definition of what happiness is… the idea of it being the moments that make up your life rather than something you’re aiming for.

(Paul) There are two things to distinguish there. One is – as you rightly say – happiness is located in people’s experiences, day to day, moment to moment, and not in the narratives or evaluations they might have about their lives. Just to illustrate that with an example which really became quite resonant with people was telling the story of a friend who worked at a company that she moaned about the whole time that we were at dinner with her, like literally every moment she was with us she was telling us about how horrible it was: her colleagues, her commute, her boss… Everything about her job was miserable. And we were leaving dinner and she stood up and said, without any hint of irony: “Of course I love working at MediaLand.” And it wasn’t inconsistent with what she was saying. She was on the one hand talking about her experiences which were making her miserable, but the story of her job was that it was a place she had always wanted to work, her parents were proud, her friends were jealous. When she thought about whether it should make her happy, then it ought to.

And so, what I’ve tried to do is locate happiness much more in that experiencing self and not in the evaluating self. But also, beyond that, it’s not just experiences of joy or pleasure or contentment or the typical adjectives of emotion – which have many more negative adjectives for them like anxiety, worry or stress – but also a set of experiences that are associated with how purposeful, meaningful, or fulfilling the activities feel. Or equally how pointless and futile they feel. And I argue that happy lives are ones where individuals work out for themselves – its not for me to tell them – what the right balance between pleasure and purpose is. There will be things in our lives that we do that are mostly fun, and there’ll be things that we do that are mostly fulfilling, and its for us to work out that balance between pleasure and purpose.

What I try to do in Happiness By Design is to give people the tools to be able to implement some of the behaviour changes that they might like to do for themselves in order to be happier.


(Annie) When I read the book the line that stood out to me was: “Your happiness is determined by how you allocate your attention”. And I think maybe I took that line and interpreted it to fit what I was doing at the time. I had just started my project Time for One Poem – handing out poems on the street outside local libraries – and I thought that line was perfect because my whole idea for the project was that while you read one poem you’re allocating your attention fully to that, so you’re not thinking about anything that’s going on in your life. You might have a really busy and stressful life, but while you read that poem you’re allocating your attention and for that short time you can kind of be happy because your focusing on something, trying to understand it. So, I took that to mean: poetry can make you happy!

(Paul) Well, you should. I mean, you should take that to mean that, because poetry does for you make you happy. I don’t prescribe anything about what people ought to be doing, I just try to set out a framework that would make it helpful for them to decide. And I think that we are, all of us, generally happier when we’re paying attention to what were doing, when we’re engaged in our activities, when we’re, you know, lost in things. And that can come from poetry, it can come from music, it can come from watching a film, it can come from anything – being in the pub having a drink with your friends can be engaging in a pleasure sense. Or in a much more purposeful sense it could be doing the gardening or watching an intense documentary. All these things that we work out for ourselves…


(Annie) What about you – If someone says to the word poetry to you, what is your general reaction?

(Paul) I don’t know, it’s an interesting thing. You know, I just come back to the idea of: whatever floats your boat. Poetry doesn’t resonate with me in any great way. Although I have to say, our kids are 12 and 11, so they’re in year 7 and 8 at school, and they’re both really good at English, and really good at writing poems. My son listens to rap, and has started writing rap songs. And, through that, I’ve come to see poetry in a bigger way than how I might have stereotyped it before, which is sitting reading old poems. But actually, there’s a lot of poetry in rap, and more modern forms of poetry, so I suppose that has kind of opened my eyes to poetry being a broader and richer conception that I might otherwise have thought.

I’ve got my own podcast called The Duck-Rabbit podcast – which is about the idea that we get polarized into different positions, and it happens with so many things. The idea that: you have to agree with me, or if you don’t, you’re taken as an extreme representation of someone who disagrees. And most of the time were sort of muddling our way through these things… And I think with poetry, again, like everything, you haven’t got to pick a side, as being all-in or all-out. I would suspect that some form of poetry, in whatever form that takes – poems in the traditional sense of how I’ve thought about them, or lyrics in rap songs – would probably be of interest to anybody. I mean…the right kind of poetry for them.


(Annie) What I want to do is – like you say, I don’t want to force anyone to read poetry who just doesn’t like it. Someone might just not like poetry, I’m ok with that! But when I stand out on the street handing out poems, I’m hoping that I will give a poem to someone who has never tried it. I want to tell them that they don’t need to think about poetry as a whole, just think about this one poem, for a minute – it takes a minute to read it – think about it while you have a cup of tea, and decide if you like that poem. Don’t decide if you like poetry in general, just decide if you like that poem, or if you have any thoughts about it.

(Paul) Well listen, I wish you every success with that. Giving people more opportunities to decide on what they like and don’t like isn’t a bad thing. We know from the happiness literature that new experiences are good for us, they help to slow time down. It’s one of the reasons why time passes so slowly for children compared to adults, its because they’re constantly having new experiences. The worst that you can do is try it and not do it again…


(Annie) So if I send you a poem, would you read it, and see if you like it?

(Paul) Aha you got me there! How could I say no to that? I can’t say no to that. Keep it short. I promise to read it at least once if its short.

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I sent Paul one of my favourite poems: ‘One Art’ by Elizabeth Bishop, which I handed out at Fallowfield Library in Manchester nearly four years ago! (And he liked it!)

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Listen to Paul Dolan’s podcast here.

Listen to my podcast here. Or look at the posts below to choose an episode!

“It feels quite opaque”

The final episode of my podcast is available to listen now on SpotifyAppleGoogle or wherever you find your podcasts!

In the first part of this episode I talk sean wai keung – a poet, performer and food writer living in Glasgow, whose first full collection, sikfan glaschu, came out with Verve Press in 2021. 

And in the second part I talk to Damien, a doctor who loves the great outdoors, about sean’s poem ‘lanzou noodle’.

Damien tells me that he didn’t “grow up with really any art” around the house, and although as an adult he’s sort of got into some things, poetry is something he’s “just never quite been able to get into” – partly because “it feels quite opaque”. Despite this, he says he likes “the idea that [he] would read poetry” – and during our conversation finds out he’s actually very good at it!

sean wai keung

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lanzou noodle

the thing about places where you can see into the cooking
area / kitchen is that you really can see it all – the amount
of physical effort that every single movement and dish requires
the gravity of a cleaver falling precisely along with the movement
of a hand – the tensing of fingers / eyes when kneading
dough – the steam rising from a pan filled with you-cant-tell
-what – i want to know what strong feelings it evokes in you to watch
your food being made rather than have it appear from a distant corner
could it be nostalgia for something / a yearning / hunger for conn
ection to another space / time *** meanwhile far away in a kitchen
on the other side of the world a small boy watches with huge
disbelieving eyes as his grandfather quickly slices noodles
out of dough before flicking them up into the biggest pan
the boy will ever see – he knows too that its almost time

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CREDITS

Producer/host: Annie Muir ~ @time41poem

Editor: Jack Rientoul ~ @jackrientoul

Music: JANSKY ~ @radiojansky

Artwork: Max Machen ~ @maxymachen

This podcast was made using funding from the National Lottery, through Creative Scotland. 

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More about sean: https://seanwaikeung.carrd.co/

The cover image for this post was taken from the Glasgow Gourmand blog’s article about Lanzou Noodle.

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This is the last episode of the series! If you have got this far – or even if you have just listened to a couple of episodes, or just read the blog posts – thank you so much for your time!

Follow my blog for updates on further series/projects, and if you enjoyed the podcast please leave a review on Apple Podcasts!

“My sister once wrote a haiku…”

The next episode of my podcast is available to listen now on SpotifyAppleGoogle or wherever you find your podcasts!

In the first part of this episode I talk to Hera Lindsay Bird – a poet and children’s bookseller from New Zealand whose debut, Hera Lindsay Bird, came out in the UK with Penguin Books in 2017 – about how she got into poetry. 

And in the second part I talk to poetry-sceptic Mathias, a lover of pop-divas who works as a care administrator for The No.1 Care Agency, about Hera’s poem ‘I will already remember you for the rest of my life’ – from her pamphlet, Pamper Me to Hell & Back (Smith|Doorstop, 2018).

Although Mathias was impressed when his sister won a prize in school for writing a haiku, as he’s got older he’s become “sceptical” about reading poetry because he’s “just never read it” and would “prefer to read a book” if he was going to read something. Despite this he really enjoys Hera’s poem and has some great ideas about it (when I give him a word in!) (I got a bit overexcited this episode, sorry!)

Hera Lindsay Bird

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I will already remember you for the rest of my life

Standing on your balcony in winter I think:
I will already remember you for the rest of my life
It’s too late now, I know who you are
and what you look like
and must henceforth venture through life recalling you many times
as you continue to make things difficult by reminding yourself to me more and more
by taking me to various locations and describing to me your …………… aspirations
some ancient moon smouldering above us
I will always think of you and how it was between us
and the things you did and said

I will think about your … personality and your … interests
and the specific colour of your hair and eyes
even if we have a terrific breakup and stop calling each other
I’ll still remember you
I won’t be able to help it! You’re there in my memory
like the concept of opera. Or the Simpsons theme song
like a field of blossoms in an air freshener commercial
sarcastic with light
I will think of your temperament and your enthusiasms
and how you … looked at me
I will think of all the things you told me about your life

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CREDITS

Producer/host: Annie Muir ~ @time41poem

Editor: Jack Rientoul ~ @jackrientoul

Music: JANSKY ~ @radiojansky

Artwork: Max Machen ~ @maxymachen

This podcast was made using funding from the National Lottery, through Creative Scotland. 

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More about Hera Lindsay Bird: http://www.heralindsaybird.com/

More about The No.1 Care Agency: https://www.theno1care.org/

“It’s easier to switch on the TV”

Happy new year! The next episode of my podcast is available to listen now on SpotifyAppleGoogle or wherever you find your podcasts!

In the first part of this episode I talk to Nina Mingya Powles a London-based writer and zinemaker from Aotearoa New Zealand, whose first collection Magnolia 木蘭 came out with Nine Arches Press in 2020 – about how she got into poetry.

And in the second part I talk to Caroline, a nurse with a new baby, about Nina’s poem ‘Mid-Autumn Moon Festival, 2016’. Caroline tells me that although she likes the idea of poetry, and even writes some herself: “it’s just something that gets forgotten about” because when you’re busy or tired “it’s easier to switch on the TV”.

I’m really glad Caroline made the time to come and talk to me about this poem, which she said gave her “shivers” and is going to print out to stick on her wall!

Nina Mingya Powles, photo by Sophie Davidson

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Mid-Autumn Moon Festival, 2016

The city is turning, the trees are turning,
we are walking and then swimming
through a sea of yellow leaves when Louise
stops to bite a perfect persimmon. Her front teeth
pierce the skin and she is laughing,
I remember my mum cutting persimmons
in the sun one afternoon
, soft orange bits
stuck to her palm. We look up the Chinese name
for persimmon on my phone, 柿子, we taste the word,
we cut it open, wondering at how it sounds
so like the word for lion, 狮子, lion fruit
like a tiny roaring sun, shiny lion fruit.

At dusk we sit outside cutting mooncakes
into quarters with a plastic knife, peering
at their insides: candied peanut or purple yam,
matcha or red bean? The moon looks like
a single scoop of red bean ice cream
but really it’s a girl who ate her beloved
then swallowed the sun he gave her as a gift.
Oh, there’s always so much to be lovesick for
when seasons change: green birdcages
and plastic moon goddesses and pink undies
hanging up to dry above the street and boys
who only text at night. We lick the sugar
off our wrists and it’s been so long,
so long.

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CREDITS

Producer/host: Annie Muir ~ @time41poem

Editor: Jack Rientoul ~ @jackrientoul

Music: JANSKY ~ @radiojansky

Artwork: Max Machen ~ @maxymachen

This podcast was made using funding from the National Lottery, through Creative Scotland. 

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More about Nina: https://www.ninapowles.com/

The photo used for the cover of this post is from an article that has lots more interesting information about Mooncakes and the Mid-Autumn Moon Festival.

“It can be quite an intimidating thing”

The ninth episode of my podcast is available to listen now on SpotifyApple PodcastsGoogle or wherever you find your podcasts!

In the first part of this episode I talk to the poet Callie Gardner – a writer and publisher from Glasgow whose book-length poem Naturally it is not came out with the 87 Press in 2018 – about how they got into poetry.

And in the second part I talk to Mhairi, a videogame-lover from the Highlands who is currently studying Radio at City of Glasgow College, about a small section of Callie’s poem ‘Summerletter’ (part of Naturally it is not)

Mhairi says that she has “limited experience” of reading poetry, partly because of a sense of “gatekeeping” she feels surrounds the subject, making it seem “quite intimidating” to an outsider. 

Despite finding Callie’s poem dense and mysterious, Mhairi manages to find some meaning in the visual aspects of the poem, and says she will never look at a loch in the same way again!

Callie Gardner

The poet Callie Gardner passed away shortly after recording this interview. They will be greatly missed by their family and friends as well as the wider poetry community. 

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from Summerletter

this lochan is reed city
where are you rushing off too?
greed-furred geological fingers feeling blind
generative insights populating maps

england is now a dark green tunnel
of worry; is ever far-northernness a shield or shadowy
disguising cloak?
on this alien island so near its birth
every landscape collected in the magic-hour sun-rain
serendipitous beauty of birches –
the reeds grow like beards, like armpits,
like woven wet chests, like forgotten patches

these live and scatter themselves
against the cartographic crimelook
of the scrip na-multiples, h-everything,
invisidhible consonthanants making the language thick,
ancient, and safe

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CREDITS

Producer/host: Annie Muir ~ @time41poem

Editor: Jack Rientoul ~ @jackrientoul

Music: JANSKY ~ @radiojansky

Artwork: Max Machen ~ @maxymachen

This podcast was made using funding from the National Lottery, through Creative Scotland. 

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The photo used as the cover for this post is called ‘Lochan Reeds’ and was taken from Jessica’s Nature Blog.

“I can’t remember if I liked it at school!”

Season’s greetings! The eighth episode of my podcast is available to listen now on SpotifyApple PodcastsGoogle or wherever you find your podcasts!

In the first part of this episode I talk to Theresa Muñoz – a poet born in Vancouver, Canada and now living in Edinburgh, who writes about this transition in her debut collection, Settle (Vagabond, 2016) – about how she got into poetry.

And in the second part I talk to Linda, a support worker at Fortune Works – a social enterprise for people with learning disabilities – about Theresa’s poem ‘Simpsons department store, Toronto’. 

Although Linda may have enjoyed poetry at school (she “can’t remember that far back”!) and it has sometimes come up at work or other scenarios in her life, she says that she’s never made a “personal choice” to read poetry. Despite this, Linda enjoys the storytelling aspect of Theresa’s poem about how her parent’s met/didn’t meet, which leads us to talk about why we like telling these stories from the past.

Theresa Muñoz, photo by Iain Clark

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Simpsons department store, Toronto

My parents could have met in Manila
on a sweaty Jeepney
or down a market alley.
Instead, as two foreigners
not used to hats, scarves or heavy coats.

They laughed when I asked where.
Oh, in the stationary aisle.
Mom hunted a present for a nun,
Dad searched for paper clips.
Two years later, married at St. Michael’s:
Dad in a rumpled suit, Mom in a bargain dress,
clutching winter roses.

But they could have met at a hospital.
The years uncovered this fact:
in Manila, Mom was nurse to Dad’s sick aunt.
But back to the day in the stationary aisle.
Mom chose a fountain pen.
Dad said That’s a good present, for a nun.

I tell their story to feel less lonely.
The sweet rush
of one leaving first, then the other
beyond the store’s bold signs
and frosted steps,
into Toronto’s starry expanse

as if this was how you came in,
came over,
twin dark heads in the snow.

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CREDITS

Producer/host: Annie Muir ~ @time41poem

Editor: Jack Rientoul ~ @jackrientoul

Music: JANSKY ~ @radiojansky

Artwork: Max Machen ~ @maxymachen

This podcast was made using funding from the National Lottery, through Creative Scotland. 

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More about Theresa: http://www.theresamunoz.com/

More about Fortune Works: http://www.enableglasgow.org.uk/fortuneworks/

“You don’t know where to start”

The seventh episode of my podcast is available to listen now on SpotifyApple PodcastsGoogle or wherever you find your podcasts!

In the first part of this episode I talk to Gboyega Odubanjo – a British-Nigerian poet born and raised in East London, whose most recent pamphlet Aunty Uncle Poems came out in 2021 with The Poetry Business – about how he got into poetry (after giving up on becoming a footballer). 

And in the second part I talk to Chris, a photographer from Australia and co-runner of Gulabi – an independent film lab in the Southside of Glasgow, about Gboyega’s poem ‘Dagenham Runner’s Club’.

Although Chris spent a lot of his teens writing “angsty poetry”, since then he’s “read a few bits and bobs here and there, but [hasn’t] really engaged with it a lot”. He puts this down to there being “too many [poems] – you don’t know where to start.” So I started him off with this one, which he managed to relate to a lot about his own life experiences, despite never having seen the film Running Man!

Gboyega Odubanjo

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Dagenham Runner’s Club

say at night you’re running arms bent like a chalk outline.
face wet like you’re born again. people taking out the bins.
watching thew news. who has died today. what is the economy.
you’re running like some running man. like it’s in your genes.
like you got caught with something in your jeans. or it’s 2007
and you’re not from round here are you. running like there’s
scouts here to see you. victoria road. heathway. lord denman.
parsloes park. mayesbrook. cemetary. maybe you’re running
just because. because it’s night and some time ago me and
you we made a deal and its time to collect. maybe you ran
yesterday. and you’ll run tomorrow. people shutting shop
for the night. getting off the bus. checking over their shoulders.
they don’t know you. might think your form is off. are you not
knackered. is there a hot dinner waiting for you. rain. more rain.
you don’t care how dirty your trainers get. not thinking
about what’s waiting for you around the corner.

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CREDITS

Producer/host: Annie Muir ~ @time41poem

Editor: Jack Rientoul ~ @jackrientoul

Music: JANSKY ~ @radiojansky

Artwork: Max Machen ~ @maxymachen

This podcast was made using funding from the National Lottery, through Creative Scotland. 

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More about Gboyega: https://www.poetrybooks.co.uk/products/aunty-uncle-poems-by-gboyega-odubanjo

More about Gulabi: https://www.gulabi.co.uk/

“It fills me with dread”

The sixth episode of my podcast is available to listen now on SpotifyAppleGoogle or wherever you find your podcasts!

In the first part of this episode I talk to afshan d’souza-lodhi, a Manchester-based poet and screenwriter whose first collection [re:desire] came out in 2020 with Burning Eye Books, about how she got into poetry.

And in the second part I talk to Kirstie, a Save Glasgow Libraries campaigner who works for the charity United to Prevent Suicide, about afshan’s poem ‘black marigolds’.

An avid reader of fiction, Kirstie says poetry is something she’s “always struggled with” and “never been able to get into”. She also tells me that although she enjoyed poetry as a child, the idea of reading poetry now “fills [her] with dread!” Despite this, we find lots to discuss and google in afshan’s poem, which forces us both think outside the box when it comes to poetry.

afshan d’souza-lodhi

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black marigolds

– chaandani,
chaandani.
– did it rain?
– stay.
– the rain took your shape.
– it didn’t rain.
stay. please.

she told him maybe,
to herself counted eight reasons
not to.
and then his ada strolled in.
eight reasons not to
turned to one reason to stay.
ada was classy –
but even the moon has craters.
the type who probably had
a Möbius strip between her legs
dated the Brazilian instead.
she was
a worldly woman knowing about
dawn and dusk and
everything that came between.
though ada had a preference for moonlight,
she ignored chaandani, went straight to
give kiran a line.
– light doesn’t bend, and you, kiran, are extremely kinky.
she walked round to chaandani,
looked her up and down,
assessing,
then playfully slapped her with
a lady’s glove.
– what about you, chanda? Are you bent?
she elongated the name and
let it roll around her mouth.
chaandani returned the gaze.
– I reflect off what’s given to me.
lights now turned on,
chaandani played with his ada.
stood gracefully.
– your ada is really something, isn’t she, kiran?
shame she’s always looking for a new dawn.
kiran was pissed,
exited left, followed by her,
bare.
– is that true, ada? are you?
– I guess.
Kiran left.
leaving them staring up
into the sky, looking
for dead birds.

~

(This isn’t exactly what the poem looks like – it has indentations that I am unable to show on WordPress, that make it look more like it is slithering down the page like a snake!)

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CREDITS

Producer/host: Annie Muir ~ @time41poem

Editor: Jack Rientoul ~ @jackrientoul

Music: JANSKY ~ @radiojansky

Artwork: Max Machen ~ @maxymachen

This podcast was made using funding from the National Lottery, through Creative Scotland. 

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More about afshan: https://afshandl.com/

More about United to Prevent Suicide: https://unitedtopreventsuicide.org.uk/

“I don’t think I’m creative enough…”

The fifth episode of my podcast is available to listen now on SpotifyApple Podcasts, Google or wherever you find your podcasts!

In the first part of this episode I talk to Rowan McCabe: a poet and performer from Newcastle upon Tyne, famous for being the world’s first door-to-door poet!

And in the second part I talk to David, a 17 year old in his last year of school in Glasgow, about Rowan’s poem ‘Careers Day’.

David tells me that although he finds poetry “interesting” he doesn’t feel “creative enough” to really get into it. Despite this, as someone who’s currently deciding what to do with their life, he finds Rowan’s poem very relatable – more so than the poems about “mythical legends” he’s currently studying at school. 

Rowan McCabe

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Career's Day

I never had a dream job.
My Mam would ask
what I wanted to be, frequently.
It seemed a big commitment.
Fireman, astronaut, doctor, musician.
None of them really fit.
Nothing did,
till Tuesday, year 9,
Miss Espinoza’s class.

See, the careers service had
this computer program that measured
every element of your personality.
Once processed
it would reveal your perfect career.
And today,
today was the day we got the results.

Can you imagine my excitement as
I held that envelope?
Knowing within its folds lay
the blueprint of my entire destiny,
every obstacle, every victory.
I tore it open.

‘Thank you for taking part
in the careers decision program.
We have analysed all of the data
and can now confirm
the ideal career for you is:
Motorcycle Courier.’

A motorcycle courier.
Yes, it was unexpected.
But I saw now that this was perfect:
Leather jacket, Levi jeans,
weaving between traffic
in busy metropolitan streets.
I’d have a studio apartment,
an espresso machine,
play saxophone in a jazz quartet;
the wind on my cheeks,
a grip on the handlebars,
worlds from the big wig suits
in the eternal hamster wheel race.
This was my ride out of this place.

I ran home,
bursting with the incredible news.
‘Mam,
I am going to be a motorcycle courier,’ I cried.
‘No you’re bloody not,’ she replied.

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CREDITS

Producer/host: Annie Muir ~ @time41poem

Editor: Jack Rientoul ~ @jackrientoul

Music: JANSKY ~ @radiojansky

Artwork: Max Machen ~ @maxymachen

This podcast was made using funding from the National Lottery, through Creative Scotland. 

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More about Rowan McCabe: https://rowanthepoet.com/

“You don’t want to feel stupid if you get the meaning wrong”

The fourth episode of my podcast is available to listen now on SpotifyApple Podcasts and Google Podcasts!

In this episode I talk to Harry Josephine Giles – a writer and performer from Orkney, now living in Leith – about having fun with words, and why her favourite board game used to be Pandemic.

And my poetry-sceptic/expert is Halina, a podcast producer who works with various community projects in Glasgow including Dardishi and We Are Here Scotland, about Harry Josephine’s poem ‘Bloom’ – from their collection The Games (Outspoken, 2018).

When Halina was at school she found poetry “stuffy and intimidating”, partly because of the fear of feeling “stupid” for getting the meaning of a poem wrong. Despite this, Halina is fearless when interpreting this explosive poem, describing it as “a real eye-opener”!

Harry Josephine Giles, photo by Rich Dyson

Bloom

Oh God, for you the feral beauty
of punching a fascist in the head.
For you the bruise as unfolding orgasm,
the humiliation as scented whips.
If when you watch you want to cum,
that’s OK, God: touch yourself!
With your hand, God. Vow to learn
to land that touch with the merciless
precision of a blue-tongued skink’s
blue tongue, a tennis ace’s ace,
a mallimack chick’s projectile filth.
This is the dance you need, the sprint,
the vigour. And when you’re done, run
the fascist off the street, with fists
where vital, and kiss me.

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CREDITS

Producer/host: Annie Muir ~ @time41poem

Editor: Jack Rientoul ~ @jackrientoul

Music: JANSKY ~ @radiojansky

Artwork: Max Machen ~ @maxymachen

This podcast was made using funding from the National Lottery, through Creative Scotland. 

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More about Harry Josephine: https://harryjosephine.com/

More about Halina: https://www.halinarifai.com/