Netball, Netball, Philosophy, Poetry, Netball

It’s the end of the season for the netball team I play for –  Hereward Harriers (a Peterborough-based regional team).  We managed to keep our place in the league – just about. Whoop!  I’ve been writing privately about netball for a little while now, but thought I’d share some thoughts.  You might be a little surprised by how multi-layered this gets, but bear with it, I find it interesting – you might too.

A theme that’s been consistently seeping through my writing in recent months – making a comeback after my philosophy degree – is that of the body; the body that we grasp and make sense of the world with and through.  I am continuing to write with this on my mind – often poems where the body is dissected; parts speaking back their interpretations of experiences and surroundings.   To me the body is what we have – synonymous with mind, soul, spirit – however you define them.  We are an amalgamation!  Of course in poetry I can do what I want – separate them all out, play; inhabit the dreamscape.

Maurice Merleau-Ponty – a modern French phenomenological philosopher wrote a lot about perception.  Edward S. Casey draws on Merleau-Ponty’s judgements and talks about the distinction that is often made between mental and physiological memory, saying it is not necessary to distinguish between them.  Habit memory is neither strictly mental or entirely physical, but a mixture of intention and behaviour – animation by the mind and enactment by the body.

If we agree that memory doesn’t reside purely in the brain or in the body, but in a response that inhabits both of these, this opens all kinds of implications.  We aren’t ending up with a visual projection of a memory, or of a feeling / body movement of that memory, but something that exists in the overlap – it could be reproduced without subscribing to any identifiable representational format, characteristic of a dream-like state maybe.  I love this idea, which fits with the fact that truth is subjective – fluid, unable to be pinned down. This is a marvellous thing to hang on to when writing poetry.

Anyway – more of the netball. I’ve long wanted to write about my experience – the bodily experience of playing sport – stemming from the repetition of the same movements, the same way of planting the feet, the same way of reaching and bringing a ball down from above you and the same way of launching, turning in the air and landing.  These and many more actions are things that are re-enacted over and over again (for me for over twenty five years).  As a defender, I feel the hit of pleasure when all those movements, along with cognitive functions unite and the result is the perfectly-timed interception.  That is the peak of the physical experience of playing, although it could be different from player to player, position to position.

My age and a changing body have brought this all to the forefront in recent months.  I’ve been faced with questions about when to stop playing netball and a possible change of match day for my club could mean that I’m not able to play as much in the near future.  It is pertinent when I hear about sports stars who couldn’t cope with retirement.  For them, their entire existence (unlike mine, although there has been times I’ve been very driven) has been motivated by and geared towards being the best they can be in their sport.  However, I think there is something much deeper, more inherent in their identity at stake.   When we have lived, sometimes for the majority of our lives, performing specific actions over and over and have learnt pleasure from the results of particular actions, we have establishing a way of being – a mode of relating to the world through the body.  This is what it feels so difficult to give up – an ingrained way of being in the world!

Merleau-Ponty’s examination of the bodily nature of perception feels significant in so many ways. He states that,

‘The corporeal schema is an incorporated bodily know-how and practical sense; a perspectival grasp upon the world from the ‘point of view’ of the body’.

John Hockey and Jacquelyn Allen Collinson go on to talk about the symbiosis of rhythm and timing, in relation to sport.They state that each sporting social context requires its own particular rhythm and this varies from sport to sport. Defining this rhythm as a,

‘patterned energyflow of action, marked in the body by varied stress and directional change; also marked by changes in the level of intensity, speed and duration […] To accomplish such rhythm, participants must skilfully coordinate certain bodily parts, with the complexities of that coordination varying considerably between sports.’

In my latest writing venture – a one-person play looking at elements of the body and their relationship to the environment on and off the netball court, I recognise that I am setting a rhythm through the metre of the lines that is set against/alongside the rhythm of playing netball.  The continuous and repeated movements in a relatively small space are safe – there is a ‘measurable’ and more ‘concrete’ identity. Whereas the rhythms and language of the body negotiating itself around a vaster, more complex environment are more dangerous, less able to be repeated and embedded.  There is a safety in knowing how to be.

To take this further – In Feminist phenomenology and the woman in the running body, Jacquelyn Allen-Collinson acknowledges that there are powerful influences and constraints upon lived experience and the corporeal specifics of bodies that are located in time and culture. She talks about her experience of running.  In this activity that she loves and has repeated over decades, she has been unable to experience that safeness, because of the nature of being female in the environment.  She writes:

‘Over the years, I have been subject to varying degrees of verbal and physical harassment; men/teenage boys have lunged and grabbed at various parts of my anatomy. The embodied consequences of such abuse and attack mean that at times when corporeal vulnerability is brought forcibly to the forefront of my consciousness, I run warily, eyes and ears on full alert, breath at times shallow so that I can better listen for sounds. My running body is no longer the running habit-body, at ease with itself and the environment, but is brought vividly and jarringly to consciousness.’

The netball court holds no resemblance to this.  However when we consider sports women, and in this case netballers, on a general level there is much to be said.  Allen-Collinson writes that looking at these things sharpens our focus on our embeddedness within the cultural and social worlds.

As women, we enter a world that is already steeped in patriarchal hierarchies, those in sport certainly being no exception.  As I grew up I found myself to be a bit of a sporting all-rounder – doing gymnastics, ice-skating, playing on most sports teams and doing athletics and cross-country for the school and at higher levels.  In my experience netball required just as much exertion, skill and competitiveness as the other sports I took part in, but I just happened to be better at it than the others.  However, it wasn’t long before I learnt to regard it in a negative way.  At school, I found that a couple of the sports teacher didn’t think much of the game and I came to be embarrassed about saying ‘netball’, always justifying how physical and great a sport it was by sharing my list of injuries – broken nose, knee, fingers etc… Many sports that are played by women are becoming more prominent and don’t seem to hold the cringe-worthy connotations, or be perceived in the same way and I have questioned why this should be. I always arrive at the same conclusion. Netball was first and foremost a women’s sport, not a man’s sport that women started to play, and as such took its lowly place in the patriarchal set up.  It is not an Olympic sport and even though television coverage is now slightly better.  It is in no way proportionate to the amount of people who play it both at school and beyond in the UK.  On radio phone-ins about encouraging more women into sport, it is hardly mentioned, despite being one of the only sports particularly for that gender.

I will continue to harp on unashamedly about this.  Perhaps I will think of something more provoking or further-reaching to do one day.  I don’t think the answer is to relax and say that the profile and coverage is better than it was.  When the first lot of women secured the vote, the campaign wasn’t over until they all had it and there’s still so much to do about all aspects of woman-hood – issues and passions and ways of being.

This last little rant was instigated by the previous thinking about body-knowledge and the body’s grasp on the world.  The more time and coverage we give to sporting pursuits that are out of proportion to participation and interest, the more society is guilty of valuing one way of being-in-the-world more than another.  Thoughts on this are welcome.

For more reading on sport and philosophy see Grasping the Phenomenology of Sporting BodiesJohn Hockey and Jacquelyn Allen Collinson

Pictures, Projects, Platform 8

A whole month has somehow got lost, despite all my good intentions to post here regularly.  I put it down to going away at Easter and all the busyness that came afterwards.  It would be a pity not to write about some of the highlights of the last month and include some thoughts and writing I’ve done in that time.  In fact, it would make sense to say that my aims in posting here are to let people know what I’m up to as Laureate, to respond to other cultural events that happen in the city (although they might not directly be related to being Poet Laureate), to share some of the thoughts and avenues for my own writing and, in general, to let you know what a marvellous place this is!

At the start of April the Currie family were excited to be going to the launch of the ‘Put Yourself in the Picture Exhibition’ at Peterborough Museum, initiated by young producer and arts student Hanna Hughes.  The project was supported by Peterborough Presents’ Emerge Programme – giving training and support to young creatives.  Members of the public were invited to be made into images of famous masterpieces, which were then framed and displayed in the gallery.  It was great to see the exhibition, alongside the work of other young creatives from Peterborough College.  The standout point for me (apart from having some brilliantly quirky art works for the downstairs loo) was that the project engaged the whole family.  This is rare with children’s ages ranging from five to twelve, so a great testament to Hanna.  Watch the video below for a taste of it all.

Off to the land of bright yellow gorse and lots more. We went to Wareham, Dorset (home of my parents), during the school holidays.  The first few days were warm.  We made our way to Arne, Durdle Door, Kimmeridge.  I sat and watched the children on the beach (something getting easier and easier the older they get – some relaxation is now possible, ha!)  I wrote the bones of a new poem, inspired by my youngest.  It would be accurate to describe him as outgoing, energetic and incredibly competitive. I watched him on a rock, whilst the sea came in and out around him.  He stood – gesticulating, posturing, blowing raspberries – daring the sea to get him.  It was very amusing, but got me thinking and writing about the experience of childhood, the ego, audacity, lack of self-awareness and confidence that gets squashed the older we get.  It wouldn’t work for us to stay that way (we’d be a danger to ourselves to start with), but it is magical!

I trekked back northwards in time for the launch of the Stamford Verse Festival.  The festival included a selection of well-known and local poets. Highlights included seeing Chris Martin crowned as the new Stamford Poet Laureate – whoop.  He performed a piece from his Spoken Word Theatre show ‘Rain Dance’.  Lemn Sissay mesmerised his audience and spoke with passion about issues surrounding social care for children / young people, based on his own experiences.  I took part in ‘Prosecco and Poetry’, organised by the outgoing Stamford Laureate – Emma Cuddeford, also featuring Keely Mills, Gin and Yonic, Gemma Baker and Camilla McClean (a fun Prosecco-fuelled afternoon!)  It was good to see a range of poetry experiences on offer, including local poet Pete Cox’s Poetry Pub Crawl – bound to entertain.

Mid April I was asked to judge this year’s ‘Rethink Your Mind – Yellow Book competition’ at Peterborough Regional College on 12th April, along with Joanne Hather-Dennis and College Principle Terry Jones. The competition saw students and employees complete for places in three categories – photography, art work and poetry. The theme was the promotion of mental well-being – a current and highly pertinent one! I was struck by the quality of the writing and was pleased to be involved in awarding the overall prize to Imogen Cook for a sophisticated piece of poetry.  I really liked her use of imagery and the underlying universal theme of humans as stories.  Well done to Imogen! All the entries were published in the Yellow Book, which was given out at a special tea in the college restaurant.

In the latter half of April came more performances from Platform 8, with Jumped Up Theatre and Battersea Arts.  Sponge was at St John’s Church in the city centre – a squishy squashy, spongey 70s dance show for babies and toddlers, complete with aliens, wigs and funky moves.  Jumped Up Theatre are responsible for programming some high-quality theatre in many spaces that aren’t typically used that way.  Sponge was no exception.  I think I need to admit to being a 5”8 toddler.

There was a distinct change of theme for the next Platform 8 piece, at the city’s Key Theatre.  ‘Ugly Chief’ mapped the experiences of Victoria Melody and TV antiques dealer Mike Melody following a diagnosis of a terminal illness, which is then revealed to be a misdiagnosis.  The show tackled the daughter/dad relationship with brutal honesty, tenderness and plenty of humour.  As usual, Jumped Up Theatre got stuck in with plenty of extra community engagement events, including a father and daughter photoshoot and an open invite to Peterborough peeps to meet and talk about one of life’s few certainties – death!

Another Platform 8 piece was the home-grown piece Anonymous by Urock Ensemble – an immersive dark and sometimes humorous look at pros and cons of the internet. The performance was bold and gripping.  It was performed at the Undercoft beneath Tesco, Serpentine Green – a space being increasingly used to engage the local area and offer an alternative to the city centre venues.

Sponge, Platform 8, Jumped Up Theatre

On 27th April I was invited to the Vivacity Book Bus launch at Fulbridge Academy.  This followed on from the launch of the new Vision For Reading, which I performed at at the museum.  A spanking new purple book bus, with lots of bunnies on, was parked up in the school grounds and some of the children were invited to explore it.  Illustrator Ellie Sandall, who created the design, ran workshops for the children and entertained everyone by donning bunny ears, along with MP Fiona Onasanya, Kevin Tighe – Vivacity CEO, Becky Graham and Mayor and Mayoress John and Judy Fox, to officially open the bus.  Another entertaining moment was when fantastic local writer Sandy Wardrop told the story of the bus and thanked all involved in the form of a playful poem – superbly executed. The bus will promote reading by visiting local primary schools – introducing them to the library service and offering space for storytelling.

The day after a new book bus, came one of the most poignant things to happen in the Millfield area in recent months – the My Lincoln Road Trail.  This was delivered by Collusion – a company working with art and technology to deliver community-based projects.  At the start of their work along Lincoln Road businesses and residents were met, food was sampled, relationships made.  This was then translated into an exploration of the road via trail, with new technology from Paper Rhino at Allia Future Business Centre.  Positive stories were collected about the area and embedded into specially designed lanterns, which could be accessed through Wifi and hung in shops.  A trail down the road began with Dhol Drummers and dancing outside The Lounge, an internationally renowned Sitar player near to Barclays, Portuguese tarts and street theatre outside Sado Bar, Turkish/Greek traditional song and excellent poetry from Zain Awan outside Chaiiwala. Zain had written about the potent words his teacher had spoken, during a school trip through his childhood territory and how that affected his view of self and place.  The project was a fantastic way to help develop a sense of community and it feels like the start of something great for the road.  Despite the bitter cold, many people paused their journeys to become part of it.  It would be fantastic to see more.

My Lincoln Road, Collusion

I’m going to Arvon on Monday 7th May – whooooooo! I have an amazing chance to gleen poetry knowledge and be mentored by Caroline Bird and Andrew MacMillan.  Arvon was established in 1972 and has hosted many well-known tutors including Angela Carter and Salmon Rushdie.  It has centres at several sites including Ted Hughes’ former home at Lumb Bank and Totleigh Barton in Devon, where I am off to.  Excited doesn’t really begin to describe how much I’m looking forward to hearing from Caroline Bird.  She is a fascinating writer who speaks about dream-like qualities of poetry and has won the Foyles Young Poet of the Year, among many other awards.  Wish me luck.

It’s the end of the netball season.  Netball is something that I’ve done for 29 years and it informs some of my thinking and writing.  Instead of shoving it into this post, I’m going to give it one of its own.  Watch out for that next time and for what happens at Arvon.