The sun belted down. Couples lay back to catch rays while children hop skipped and jumped over them. Icecreams wobbled in procession like the beehives of a thousand screaming beatles fans. Children racing from a Jaqueline Wilson event to the bookshop. And the green room was its usual assortment of goodies.   more »

I shall now be on the radio most of the night. That's two performances, a book signing, five hundred miles and six hours travelling, two countries and one meeting in a seventeen hour day. Done.   more »

The stage area from were the evening is presented is beneath a suspended airplane. The hall is that big. This museum is incredible and to be here is also incredible. By seven thirty the musicians and I are sat at our respective tables and the nobel laureates and scientists too. They arrived from a day discussing climate change with Prince Charles at St James Palace.   more »

The symbolism of the performance in this area on this day is not lost on me. The complex racial politics in today’s cape town need bridges and tunnels. The centre is packed and the welcome warm. I have three minutes on stage alongside all the poets. It is the finale.    more »

His story is like Tupac’s. But she was there. There’s no iconography just a brother who went to help his father who was being beaten by some drunk boys on the corner. I wonder if heaven's got a ghetto   more »

On the first day I noticed a dark bruise on her right wrist. It was the bruise of a gripping hand. Each day I’d watched her and wondered how such a circular bruise could happen. Only a grip.   more »

It was a beautiful event to be a part of. “It wasn’t you on stage tonight” said a woman afterwards “the spirit got you and took you. It wasn’t you.” After the event I rushed outside for air.   more »

As we mingle outside the centre two Xhosa men, Imbongi, in traditional dress cloth thrown over their shoulders cloth wrapped around their waists trailing to the ground and bare strong arms. They stand with clubs in hand and scream a blood curdling scream – their first words. The language is Xhosa. We stand in awe and silence. They thrust the clubs forward into the air.   more »

They are my family, my poems, and I a proud father stand back as the audience applauds them. The applause sounds like rain, like tropical rain.   more »

Lorelle and Malika the festival directors tap their glasses and walk up to a microphone that appeared from nowhere. They welcome us all and rounds of applause are given to various notables who “helped make the festival what it is”. We are ready for coffee “One more thing” Lorelle says. “today is the birthday of one of our guest poets”. I sit stunned.   more »

The plane swoops out to sea and back inland displaying to perfection the concave of dramatic cape mountains and coast. Cape Town.   more »

Saturday is just what I want it to be: a day to relax.   more »

This morning at 8.10am my friend of nearly twenty years the tv producer and presenter David Akinsanya and I cycle the regents canal to Angel Islington. We are here to meet Clare Tickell and Vivien Fowle of Action for Children.   more »

If I don’t hear about an author I assume he or she is writing. If he or she is writing then I assume he or she is in the blush of success before hitting the cold open air of the market. It is this counter intuitive impulse that can see a writers success. The industry rolls on like a river. And though it is easy to say it is a fast river. It is another view to see that the rocks that take hundreds of years to form themselves into an ever widening turret are where the work is really done, is being done.   more »

He frowns sympathetically at my clumsy attempt to hide nerves “So we take out two of your teeth. If you feel pain hold your left hand up. You will feel the needle, a little scratch”. He nods when he talks but the hungarian accent is soothing. In moments my mouth feels like a rubber attachment.   more »

Having had an enjoyable and enlightening meet with Jude Kelly the artistic director it’s time enough for me to go, as I turned the key in the lock a woman stopped. She was panting and in some distress. “can you tell me the way to the artist entrance?” she says in a high pitched accent that I couldn’t fail to recognise.   more »

Myself and David are men who spent all of our childhoods in care. We are invited to the book launch by one of England’s finest writers whom we both met yesterday in different circumstances. AS Byatt’s novel is called The Childrens Book.   more »

After each visit from Margaret which took place in the sports hall I was strip searched. I was a child that had been in care for seventeen years is all. It was a harrowing institution. We had to walk the corridors in size order.   more »

I wake at 7am and spin down to the Southbank centre for 9.30am to meet an old friend whom I haven’t seen for ten years. Her name is Sally Gross and she is head of the Music Business Management MA of Westminster University. Sally is an extraordinary person. She also manages Gotanproject   more »

I heard the film was being shown followed by a question and answer session with Samantha Morton chaired by Rageh Omar. I called Simon Hattenstone last week to see if I could get tickets. And I called Rageh too. Simon called Samantha who got me tickets for tonight   more »

I'm on the plane. For two reasons I didn’t turn to the person next to me and say “my father was a pilot and he died in a plane crash” . Firstly It isn’t as sociable as I think it is and secondly people don’t believe me anyway. The plane skids into Heathrow Airport at 9am, two hours later than scheduled.   more »

Whereas in England the burger is a take out snack, in America it is a national dish and this is the best burger joint in new york. I am lucky to have Mehatem as my brother. It’s been ten years that he has known about me and twenty that I have known about him. We say goodbye over fries and diet coke. I expect this is how brothers do it.   more »

I am passed a toy guitar and sit on the floor with my back to the couch to master my instrument. I am being initiated into the band. One unholy racket of discordant music and full laughter fills the house for the next hour. They are The Young family.   more »

I meet my very good friend Dana Bryant. It’s 10am and we meet at Soho’s Bleecker Street Theatre. An exhilarating one hour and an half later and we are outside speeding through Manhattan rain to a cafe.   more »

It is the journalists birthday today. Her mother died giving birth to her so it isn’t just a birthday but a wake. I could say it is always a complex day but it isn’t. Grief and celebration swop positions like children in a game of musical chairs.   more »

Here is the poem upon the BBC Newsnight website.   more »

On arrival in New York we merge in the passport line with a flight from Cancun Mexico. Home of swine flu.    more »