Mrs. Potts experiences Lines out Loud.

Mrs Potts was on her way to the Bendigo Writers Festival. This was the first time she had attended and she was experiencing fluctuating anxieties. As usual she had her clean handkerchief, ironed and folded; an umbrella, her favourite one with the frill; lunch, liverwurst and raisin sandwiches; and a snack, in case of peckishness around morning tea time. She worried to herself as she tripped along the road, Oh, I hope I look sophisticated enough for a writer’s festival, I wonder is my dress too long? Should I have worn my thin stockings instead of these warm ones with the darn on the sole? She gathered her thoughts as she crossed at the fountain and directed them towards the session she was booked into. Lines out loud, a poetry session. She liked the sound of that. She had always enjoyed poetry.

As she entered the building her thoughts returned to the worry side of the fence. Oh dear, I hope they haven’t started, oh where am I going to sit? Oh um, ummm, is it appropriate to sit in the front row? I can see better from there, but maybe I will be asked questions, maybe the speakers will see me and know I am not intelligent, maybe I will sit here in the middle, but then what if I suddenly need to go out? Oh dear I knew this was going to be hard. No the back row, the back row is safe………… Oh here comes the MC, this is so exciting, clapping, yes, yes, I’m doing this right. The hall fell silent and the audience sat alert and ready for the performance.

The first poet was introduced and began reading her poem. At this point Mrs Potts had a sudden and strong urge to sneeze into the silence. She reached into her sleeve for the freshly laundered handkerchief, chosen especially for the day, only to find that it wasn’t there. She groped up her sleeve further but with no success; she then tried the other side. No luck, she was getting frantic and eventually succumbed to a muffled sort of snort before she found the handkerchief in her bag. She brought it out with a rather large flourish and gave her nose a thorough blow. She became aware then of the audience surrounding her and thought to herself, Oh whoops, that was a bit loud, the lady in front has turned around to look at me. She doesn’t look happy!! Oh dear, oh dear she looks so bookish, I am just a silly old lady without sophistication, I shouldn’t have come, Oh dear. The poet continued to read but Mrs Potts was feeling so nervous she hardly heard the words. Even worse, she felt another sneeze coming. She was boxed in left and right, she couldn’t get up without disturbing people, she couldn’t stay without disturbing people and her sneezing and blowing was threatening to erupt.

Poor Mrs Potts. With these myriad anxieties interrupting her concentration, she was having a rather intense afternoon at the Bendigo Writers Festival. It was in the midst of her fretful ruminating that she heard the announcement that she had come for.

“Our next presenter is a world renowned poet who we have great pleasure in welcoming to the Bendigo Writers Festival …” Mrs. Potts sat up very straight and all thoughts of skirts, sophistication, noses and handkerchiefs drained away like water down the sink. The presenter continued.

“Her poems have been published worldwide and translated into many languages, they have brought words of hope to many dark corners and inspired great environmental achievements……” Mrs. Potts beamed at the ladies to her left and right. This is what she had come to hear, yes, this.

“So without any more talk I would like to welcome Mabel Potts up here on the stage to conclude our Lines Out Loud poetry session.”

The crowd clapped animatedly, looking around the room with anticipation. Mrs. Potts rose from her seat and glanced shyly around at all the expectant faces. She looked down at her attire and hoped it was suitable, then walked graciously up to the stage and with great decorum, and not one single sniffle, brought out her favourite poem with great reverence, and began to read her lines out loud.