I dont have the best track record with preparedness and poetry launches. Oam arrived at Govanhill Baths literally the afternoon of the launch, after a series of courier errors. So I tried to leave plenty of time for Farmform to get to me. I got a nice message saying that it was waiting at the delivery point on Friday morning, which was a bit tight, but I thought it was still going to be OK. Come 2pm yesterday, though, there was still no sign of it. I phone up the courier company and asked what was going on. Well, there havent been any more scans today. Can you make a guess at when it might arrive? I cant, because there havent been any scans. It still says on your online tracker that its coming today. But there havent been any scans. What does that mean? It means its not out for delivery yet. So is it going to arrive today? Ill have to ask the depot and call you back. Four hours and two more phone calls later, there is still no word on when the parcel might arrive, just an infuriating online tracker telling me its at the delivery point. So I decide to go out on a limb and schlep out to Livingston, the nearest depot, and try and track it down myself. Its just a 20 minute train from Waverley, after all. Forty minutes after getting off at Livingston North, Ive finally found the depot. Ive been cycling around the outskirts of this commuter suburb for ages as my phone moans that its running out of battery (probably because of all that time Ive spent listening to hold music) and the maps fail to update. Its 7pm, but its completely dark. Ive had a few rapid dashes across roundabouts and unlit A-roads (in my very fluorescent yellow jacket), and Ive finally found a warehouse on an industrial estate on the outskirts of the outskirts of Edinburgh. Its locked. I walk around it and find three people sipping mugs behind a window, and give them a massive fright when I knock on it, flushed, sweaty, fluorescent. After much miming, a young woman comes to the front door. I explain the situation and she looks very sceptical. Have you got a consignment number? I do. And a bank statement. And a drivers license. She vanishes and Im twiddling my thumbs in the warehouse porch. The heating is turned up to 11. I suddenly realise, the website only said delivery point. I just assumed that that would be the nearest warehouse, here in Livingston. I have no actual evidence that my parcel is here. Just as the despair fully sinks in, she comes back in carrying a massive cardboard box. Oh wow! Is that it! That depends, are you Harry Giles? Thats me! I say, flinging my ID in her direction. I thought I was going out on a massive limb doing this. I had no idea whether it was here or if youd be able to find it. To be honest, this never usually happens, she says, sagging under the collective weight of a thousand irate customers and a thousand lost parcels. So count yourself lucky. I do. The problem is, Im now stuck on an industrial estate on the outskirts of the outskirts and have to find a way of getting this box back home. But things are starting to look up, because it happens to fit perfectly - if a little unsteadily - between my pannier rack and my saddle. I wheel my bike along cautiously. It stays firm. Buoyed up, I start to cycle. Very slowly. Exhilirated by my luck, I decide itd be a good idea to take a shortcut through the housing estate and avoid all the big main roads. Now, no offense to the good people of Livingston, but it closely resembles early first person shooter videogames, with their drab tile-repeating corridors distinguishable only by the splash patterns of blood on the floor and walls, except, to the credit of the good people of Livingston, there are no bloodstains, only nice people walking their dogs, but this has the result of making navigation completely impossible. Im turned around and around in a maze of side streets, piloting a swaying bicycle and 2200 poem cards along alleyways and round the back of houses. It takes me an hour to get back to the station, but I make it. When I get back to Edinburgh, I consider just taking a taxi. So, the end of the story! The print edition of Farmform will launch tonight in the Members Room of the Scottish Parliament as part of the Nil by Mouth event, which brought artists, scientists and policy-makers together to explore food, farming and sustainability. Its a limited run of 200 and wont be on sale; itll be available for free at special events here and there. The digital edition, with all the poems and audio recordings, will launch tomorrow morning. I hope you like it.
Posted on: Tue, 25 Nov 2014 11:25:40 +0000
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