Blackpool Carnival

Notting Hill carnival might be the biggest street party in Europe, Rio carnival may be the biggest there is, La Tomatina in Spain is perhaps the messiest, Mardi Gras in New Orleans possibly the fattest, Kukeri in Bulgaria certainly the oldest established, and Greek dionysiac revels the original of them all, but I'm eschewing the lot in favour of writing about our own Blackpool carnival. It's not even in world's top hundred, so there's loyalty for you - but it is celebrating a centenary of sorts next year.

Thanks to the Blackpool Museum Project*, here's a bit of background: In 1923 Blackpool began what it thought would be a new tradition, holding an annual Grand Carnival in June. It was the town's way of bringing back some of the progressive and pioneering events it had held before WW1, like the artificial sunshine show and the air show. It was also a way of filling a lull in the resort's calendar between the busy Easter and summer peaks. The 1923 carnival was a great success. It ran from 9th to 16th June and attracted two million visitors, many brought in on a fleet of extra trains and coaches.. Never had so many people travelled to Blackpool specifically for an event.

Blackpool's inaugural  carnival procession

As well as processions and pageants along the promenade (featuring giants wearing grotesque papier-mache heads made in the municipal tram-sheds by French craftsmen specially imported from Nice carnival), Blackpool's Grand Carnival also featured dog shows, motor races, 'battles of flowers', brass bands and many other diversions. Archive footage of that first carnival has survived. It's on YouTube and you can view it via this link: King Carnival

putting the car in carnival

The 1923 event was such a great success that the organisers immediately made plans for an even bigger and better one the following summer. The 1924 carnival ran from June 11th to 24th and once again in excess of two million people flocked to the town to enjoy the events. Unfortunately, this time there were several days with no scheduled activities, so many of the visitors spent the time drinking to excess. Drunkenness and violence were rife and marred the occasion to the extent that there was no appetite on behalf of the Corporation to host another such event. Instead the town concentrated from 1925 on holding a Festival of Lights which in turn became the world famous Blackpool Illuminations. Although Blackpool continued to put on occasional Gala Days with processions, marching bands and the like, Blackpool Carnival proper was only resurrected in 2017.

The 'centenary' Blackpool Carnival will run from July 1st to 9th 2023 and promises "a nine day extravaganza of  glorious colour, music, fun and laughter" all along the promenade from north to south pier and across several stages. There will be parades, performances, food stalls. There may even be poets! Talking of poems, this week's latest from the imaginarium has only a tenuous connection to any of the foregoing. 

If carnival is all ministerial privilege, excess, misrule and vulgarity on the one pudgy hand and a 'farewell to meat' (the literal meaning of carnival) for the working poor on the other skinny hand, this strange little poem might just resonate in an era where cold beans on bread and butter serve us as survival rations.

The Gaudy

An evermore ravenous darkness circles

this poor palpitating pool of light; 

a cold-eyed, coal-winged world vulture

sets sights on pecking out the heart

once hope gives up on its pitiable future.

Except that the gaudy shows fight.

Its neon battledress hardly haute-couture

and its baubles implausibly slight,

it vows never to be extinguished as easily

as its tormentor anticipates. In part

emboldened by tracts of previous sutures,

nerved by its sense of what's right,

it withstands such relentless intimidation

as causes dark to query its might.

And even as intimations of black eternity 

seek to extinguish its brave spirit, 

sheer willpower not to relinquish rapture

allows the gaudy to remain bright.

*Showtown, the new 'museum of fun and entertainment' in Blackpool is scheduled to open in 2023.

Thanks for reading, S ;-)

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Salvations

When it comes to performing poetry, the space and the venue that you're in certainly makes a difference. At the start of the month, I found myself at Poulton Gala with a poem I'd written just the night before. As it happened, I had been notified that the back up plan was to use the church in case of rain so, I suppose coupled with the Brazilian carnival theme of the Gala I was swayed into my decision over what to write about.
You'll be surprised to hear that I managed to focus on football and religion for my poem and so, when the rain did indeed come down heavy, I ended up reading my piece in a packed St John's- straight after the Gala Queens and Dignitaries had been awarded- no pressure!
In any case, both Joy and Al read superbly well so as part of our little 'representative team' it felt great- I just wonder how much I had been influenced by the knowledge of where I'd be reading the piece during the 'creative' process.
Here it is though, out of carnival day context and up before it's out of date. Hope you enjoy.

Salvations.

On the hunchback Corcovado mountain
Cristo Redentor stands, arms raised.
He watches over each favella,
every high rise, every stage.

Around him, in the evening twilight
lit up with a purple hue
fans of many different nations
gather, taking in the view.

And from this vantage point, he watches-
waiting for the game to start:
Arms half way to celebration
Half way to catch each falling heart.

One whistle cuts straight through the samba.
One ball watched around the world.
Streamers fly around the terrace
as passionate songs are unfurled.

And nearby in the cramped favella
locals swell round one TV,
the gunshots stop for ninety minutes
and passion lifts the great city.

They feast on sweet Bolo de Rolo
sticky, like the evening heat
but it's hard to watch the world cup football
not thinking of bustling streets.

Of Rocky, in his homemade shelter
a one man ambulance of the hill.
He raises sick above his shoulders
to bear his share of Rio's ills.

Of mothers, fearful for the children

growing into the wrong scene-
not quite lucky, not quite out yet
struggling to hold their dreams.

But set in soapstone, towering over
Christ's redeeming pose holds strong.
Four weeks of idol celebration
then the gaze of the world is moving on.



Thanks for reading,
S

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