I’m writing this way too early in the morning. My brain popped awake at 4.45, and try as I might — and I did for an hour and a half — I couldn’t fall back to sleep so I thought I’d use the time to tell you about my weekend at the Polyverse Poetry Festival at the University of Loughborough.

Loughborough is midway between Leicester and Nottingham, for those of you who didn’t know. It’s an easy two hour train ride from London’s wonderful St. Pancras Station. I arrived back in London Thursday night and found myself at St Pancras by midday Friday — a great welcome back. They really did a marvellous job renovating it. I admit that I was quite nervous as I rode up north. I wasn’t at all sure what I would find at the festival and how the performance of “Dreams of May” would go. We were doing a full-blown performance in a proper theatre complete with our 2 props (old train seats), lights and music, and although we had received all sorts of assurances from the University we really didn’t know what the theatre would be like and what sort of help we would find there. Plus, we hadn’t done a fully staged performance in nearly three years. But we needn’t have worried. The theatre was beautiful and Dave, the local tech guy, couldn’t have been nicer or more helpful. Thanks, Dave!

The Festival was three days full of readings, workshops and performances. There was so much I wasn’t able to see and so many people I wasn’t able to meet. I missed the work of Facebook friends Carole Baldock, Carol Thistlethwaite, Nick Carbo, Gerry Potter. But I did get to hear and meet poets I hadn’t been acquainted with before such as Sally Clark, Pat Jourdan and Angela France. And most importantly, I met and heard Susan Richardson, whose work I’ve admired since first reading her collection “Creatures from the Intertidal Zone” and who I’ve come to know via our blogs. Meeting her in the flesh was one of the highlights of the festival for me.

But of course, the play was the thing….Rosalind Cressy, the actress who has taken this role to heart, gave a fantastic performance — funny, anguished, true. I am so lucky to have such an artist bring my words to life. The audience clearly loved the performance as well, and afterwards there was a terrific question and answer period where the audience showed just how involved they were. Considering this was an audience specifically of poets and poetry-lovers, I was especially thrilled by their reaction, and greatly relieved! I even sold a few books after.

To top it off, Carol Ann Duffy gave a reading as the Saturday evening event. Although she wasn’t really available for “chats” (but how could she have been?), it was enough for me to have had the chance to listen to her read her works, poems which I have heard in my own head before but now came to life with different nuances, surprising stresses. There is a lilt to her voice which is both soft and stinging. I’m a big fan.

I wasn’t able to go back to the festival on Sunday (which is why I had to miss some of the poets I had hoped to see). I needed to get back to London so I could spend some time with Number 1 Son. I had written here about the new play he is in, but unfortunately there aren’t Sunday performances so I will have to miss this one. But I am very happy to say that “Pedal Pushers” has gotten rave reviews, Time Out made it a Choice of the Week, and the run is nearly sold out! But although I didn’t get to see it, I got to see him — which, of course, is even better for me.

And then, Monday morning, I headed back to Heathrow where I met my husband for a cup of coffee after not seeing him for 3 weeks (he was arriving at Terminal 5 just as I was departing — don’t ask…). Then a quick six hour flight back to the States and here I am, jet-lagged to beat the band, but happy, satisfied and supremely grateful for this crazy life that allows me to do the things I do.

Out of all this, perhaps the one person who wasn’t so thrilled about my weekend’s journey was the poor man who sat next to me on the flight back and had to listen to my hysterical cackling as I watched “Dr. Strangelove.” I hadn’t seen that film in years and years and I had forgotten what an uproarious and biting masterpiece it is. Just in case you had, too, I’ll leave you now with a little taste. Just remember, there is no fighting in the War Room….