A Night of Spoken Word; or Ode to Jonny Donut

Last week Kevin and I journeyed passed the confines of our self-created local Sheffield bubble in which we have been living and playing since September and crossed Ecclesall Road, passed London Road, and onto Abbeydale Road, far from Crookes and familiar surroundings. The purpose of this exploratory dip into new territory was to visit a much recommended cafe, In the Rude Shipyard Beneath my Window (Rude Shipyard for short). As well as being a small house-turned-cafe, the Rude Shipyard is also a book shop and generally chill place to have a cup of tea and some homemade Guinness cake (hail the chocolaty goodness). Described by its owners as “a living room where money changes hands,” a trip to this two-storied cafe is indeed reminiscent of visiting the home of an old friend, at least the home you imagine your old friends having. The decor is eclectic, rows of bookshelves line the walls and antique furniture is weary and welcoming.

This particular evening the cafe was hosting “The Wrote & The Writ” which featured local writers, poets, and musicians. I arrived far too early, as is my new custom, ordered a cup of tea which was delivered in one of the cafe’s mismatched mugs (scoring huge points and further creating a sense of hominess), and nestled myself into a corner with a book trying to figure out why I was given an empty eggcup (eventually discovering it was a repository for my used teabag). The only customer in the cafe at a point too late for teatime and too early for that night’s festivities, I attempted to be as invisible as possible as staff went about their business and eventually faces familiar to them arrived. As Kevin arrived the small building filled up quickly and even quicker the group of us who crowded into the upstairs room became a mini community, experiencing each separate performance together.

The first reader was Jep reading from Turn the Lights Out, a travel novel based on the author’s own experiences and also his love of cannabis. Next came Andrew Costa, a singer/songwriter whose songs do not follow the typical formula. The very small venue provided the best surrounding for his intimate guitar performance. Rachel Ingrams arrived and read from her novel Blood Tender. Her writing style was very poetic in nature, emotive and rhythmic. An evocative reader, after the one chapter I wanted to know more about her characters and their stories. Matt Black, a poet and also an activist who, during the course of his performance, urged the audience to vote (a call for active citizenship accompanied by cupcakes and an original poem mocking reasons people choose not to vote), was the most amusing of the evening. His spoken word was set to live guitar and told the story of Jonny Donut, a character inspired by an ice cream van parked in Cleethropes, an old seaside resort not far from Sheffield. Poor Jonny Donut was having some sort of existential crisis which was responsible for his hearing voices (predominantly the voice of a god of pistachio) and creating ice cream “lolly” molds of Dolly Parton among others. The only thing I regret about this performance is I did not record it in its entirety and I have been searching since for any such recording.

After chatting with the proprietor and leaving the Rude Shipyard we did what all twenty-somethings do when their Friday nights end and they emerge onto the streets in the early morning hours, we found a restaurant opened passed midnight and enjoyed a late (or early?) dinner of Turkish meze, deep in discussion of that evening’s enlightening entertainment.