On her substack post Victoria Moul wrote "Most reviews don’t seem to be good at making me want to buy poetry books: ... perhaps ... because they all tend to be so positive. If everything is apparently wonderful, it’s hard to trust any particular recommendation"
I think reviews are more positive nowadays. In tone they're more like comments in a face-to-face workshop with something good always said, adverse comments being sandwiched in, muted. Maybe nowadays reviewers are much more likely to know the poets, or at least they've communicated online. Or maybe reviewers feel that poetry's in such a bad way that it needs all the help it can get. This positivity (or at least lack of negativity) is especially prevalent when dealing with bereavement poems. Can there be such a thing as a bad poem about Refaat Alareer? The Poetry is in the pity I suppose.
I try to self-moderate my write-ups. After all, half of the books I read are worse than the average book I read. That's the way I rate on goodreads. The reasoning can be extended - half of the poems in a book are worse than the average poem, and half of a poem's lines are worse than the average line. Atomising a poem in that way is tricky though - lines interact with each other (jewelstones need mountings), and a poem full of beautiful phrases may be a mere "anthology of lines". But many poetry books are made of poems that can be individually assessed. If reviewers believe in the concept of ranking poems enough to list (and quote from) a collection's best pieces, why not list and quote from the worst too? It gives readers a better feel for the reviewer's prejudices, and the poet's range.
I had a wander around Norwich, going to a zone I didn't remember. Apparently the area’s been called “Over the Water” since the 13th century.
Norwich’s nickname on publicity leaflets is the “City of Stories”. It has a puppet theatre, the Norwich University of Arts, and UEA (where Ishiguro and Ian McEwan went). And of course, there was Julian of Norwich who wrote the earliest surviving English language works known to be written by a woman (near where Dragon Hall now is).
The 
I went to the Publishing Fair - local self-publishers. Some were novelists, though there were several factual books too. Later I trawled the city's bookshops. There are at least 2 charity bookshops.
From there I flew to Bergamo where I visited some places in Lombardy that I've known for 30 years or so. 10 degrees hotter than Sweden. We had beer and a meal on a hill overlooking Lecco. We dropped some donations off at the museum of local history - a ration book, a sewing machine, a wooden plate. In a village I found a book-exchange cabinet with just the sort of page-turner thriller I can cope with in Italian. So I've enough reading material for a while.
The room is goth/cellar style with a glitter-ball, which is becoming rather standard for poetry venues. I like it. My only worry is that there aren't enough chances to chat (i.e. exchange poetry information) with people. Open mic evenings are all very well, but they don't have the edge (or quality control) that Slam Competitions do.
I liked last year's conference so much that I went again this year, seeing many people I've met before. When I set off at 5.30 on Saturday morning for Bristol, I saw a snail on the car roof - an omen of weather to come. After a useful day of workshops I slept in my tent while a storm raged, waking in a puddle, and having to do some bailing. On Sunday I went to more workshops that showed me how much I need to improve my close reading. I read at the launch of "51 and a half games and ideas for writers with example responses". 
The books I got were "51 and a half games and ideas for writers with example responses" (Vanessa Gebbie), "Scratching the Sands (NFFD anthology 2023)", "Other household toxins" (Christopher Allen), "The yet unknowing world" (Fiona J.Macintosh), and "with one eye on the cows (Bath Flash Fiction Volume 4)". There were well over a dozen novella-in-flash books at the bookshop - a growth sector.
I went to an evening of poetry with Sarah Mnatzaganian, Kathy Pimlott, and Ramona Herdman at
Topping & Company, Ely. The poets all read accessible, conversational pieces with edgy humour. I don't know how typical that is of their works. Of the three, perhaps I have the most in common with Ramona Herdman - we both have allotments, degrees from UEA and publications from HappenStance and Nine Arches Press. Lachlan Mackinnon was in the audience I think. He's local, but there were people who'd come from Nottingham, London, etc.
The streets were quiet after. I like Ely - the contrast of cathedral, market square and riverside life - marina, boat houses and houseboats.
I had the 5th floor of Freston Tower all to myself for 3 nights. It's said to be the nation's oldest folly. Built in the 1500s it overlooks the Orwell estuary.
From the top you can see Orwell bridge, wading birds (Bar-tailed godwits, Oyster-catchers etc) and, if you're lucky, your own shadow. Not an ivory tower, more a writers retreat with exercise built into the life-style. The spiral staircases and a 30 mile cycle ride kept me fit. Sun, hailstones and lots of mud.
We walked down the coast to see Arthur Ransome's house. I've not read his books, some of which were set in the area.
Further down the coast from Pin Mill was a little village of houseboats. Unlike those I've seen on the Cam some of these had big new superstructures, and didn't look mobile. One was called "The Ark".
Further down still were abandoned boats. 2 men with tripods and cameras were there. I can see the attraction of the setting.
This museum was a surprise - the naval training establishment closed in 1976. The view from it of Harwich container port appealed to 2 men with a tripod and drone.
A gentle 2 days starting at a mile long tunnel, going via Frome, Longleat, Shaftesbury, Blandford Forum and Wimbourne to Poole and finally Bournemouth Pier.
On the edge of Frome we saw the house of Miss Moneypenny (Lois Maxwell) who also had a part in Stingray. The town centre had a trendy street.
At Gillingham, on the way to Shaftesbury, we saw a bridge that Constable painted. Golden Lane at Shaftesbury has been painted and jigsawed many times.
Bournemouth on Easter Saturday was lively. Saw a fox crossing a residential street at about 5:30pm.
Jon Stone was the speaker at last night's hybrid Cambridge Writers meeting. He told us about the kind of poetry that interested him, and read out a "manifesto" before reading some examples. He's interested in dissolving boundaries - between writer and reader, between authors (hence collaborations), between genres, and between games and poetry.
Tonight Peter Daniels was the main act at CB1. He and I have had pamphlets published by HappenStance. There the similarities end - "Peter Daniels has won many prizes including the Arvon and TLS poetry competitions and has published several collections and pamphlets including two Poetry Business prizewinners". Performers often read from their phones nowadays. It was heartening to see that Peter read from real books containing multi-colour post-its. In the first half he read some of his translations of Vladislav Khodasevich. I bought "My Tin Watermelon", his 2109 Salt book.
I went to Coventry yesterday. I haven't been there since it was UK City of Culture in 2021. And I've never visited Fargo Village - a bit like a little Camden Lock but with more containers.
I didn't know about The Philip Larkin pub either, or Dippy the dinosaur. But I knew about the roofless cathedral, the medieval (restored) buildings that survived the wartime bombings, the canals etc. It's an interesting city to wander around. The house where my grandfather lived as a children no longer exists. Even the street has gone.
I knew about Godiva of course (there's a taylor's shop named after her) but I'd forgotten about Peeping Tom. On the drive home I popped into Rugby (Rubert Brooke's birthplace; a statue of him's there) and Market Harborough (with its "improve the time" sundial).
Weymouth (Hardy's Budmouth). This is a Bathing Machine (a changing room that could be wheeled in and out of the water). There are many palm trees down there.
Puddletown (Hardy's Weatherbury)
Wareham isn't in Hardy's book, though it's on the Hardy Way. My father was born there. The Quay is the subject of more than one jigsaw.
Corfe Castle, on the Hardy Way, isn't in his books either. It's another popular jigsaw and photography subject. It's halfway between my father's birthplace and Swanage, my mother's. A car like the one in the jigsaw was parked down the road towards Swanage.
Swanage (Hardy's Knollsea). Here's a concrete pillbox, crab and lobster pots, and a folly from London. The ships that took Portland stone to London were ballasted with odds and ends for the return journey - bollards, etc. 
The Globe, on the edge of Swanage. Sudan is huge.
Dickens' birthplace (my birthplace is only a few hundred metres away).
The school I attended for 7 years has changed its name to Portsmouth College from (elitist?) Southern Grammar School.
The Guildhall where I came 3rd in the UK U-18s chess championship
South Parade Pier, where I had a vacation cleaning job that I cycled 5 mile to, early in the mornings.
The Victory, which my father was responsible for. He was invited to a Buckingham Palace party.
The hospital where my father died.
Fratton Park - I went there just before Xmas. Two of my siblings are season-ticket holders
An end-of-the-beach snack bar which is open all winter. The jigsaw was bought there.
My story collection "By All Means" (ISBN 978-0-9570984-9-7), published by Nine Arches Press, is on sale from 
My poetry pamphlet "Moving Parts" (ISBN 978-1-905939-59-6) is out now, on sale at the 
