Braving Scotland

Gwyneth Box
An account of the awards ceremony for the Scottish International Open Poetry Competition, March 2001

When I told my family that I'd been invited to the awards ceremony for the Scottish International Open, they asked how long I'd be playing golf. In fact, of course, I was referring to the Scottish International Open Poetry Competition, founded in 1972, and supported by Irvine Burns Club, North Ayrshire Council, and Ayrshire Writers and Artisits Society.

The competition is run annually, and attracts thousands of entries. I imagine the lack of entry fee limits the financial resources available, there being only one monetary prize. Several trophies are also awarded, to be held for a year, and there are diplomas for finalists. Submissions are limited to two per poet, which are judged in four categories: Scots, UK, International and Long Poetry sections. I entered for the first time last year. My poem Spanish Birds at Dusk came third in the International Section and I was invited to the awards ceremony at the Irvine Burns Club one Saturday afternoon in March to collect my diploma. The invitation mentioned that Sean Connery was one of the patrons and the idea that I might get to see him in the flesh - and hopefully in a kilt! - was probably what prompted me to seriously consider attending.

This year when the invitation arrived - my 'Sloe Gin' had been awarded a diploma - I was more realistic: although I expected to see a few kilts, I knew Sean Connery would not be there. However, I did hope that I might recognise a few faces; last year there seemed to be quite a number of people who already knew each other and, after all, if I'd been invited two years in a row it was likely that other people had, too. Unfortunately, travelling to Scotland from Spain for a weekend is not cheap, and I wondered whether it was really an unnecessary extravagance. However, the invitation suggested that International winners who had made representation to their local university/library/newspaper/radio etc had been given assistance to help them make the journey. Last year I hadn't bothered to try this, but this year I thought I'd see what could be done. First I approached British Airways. They laughed at me. Politely, it's true, but basically the reaction was that they would not sponsor individuals for cultural activities. If I'd been a Medic without Frontiers it would have been quite different, but poetry just isn't up there on the charity status.

Next I went cap in hand to the Personnel Director at the Business School where I teach English. I didn't actually expect much, after all, poetry may be 'culture' but it's hardly business. I was pleasantly surprised. I have to mention the school's full name now - the Escuela de Organizaci—n Industrial in Madrid - and say thank you to them for paying my fare to Scotland. (Actually, they've said that they will pay it, but I'm not sure how long the paperwork is going to take!)

I still had to pay for my accommodation etc., but the airfare was taken care of, so I could afford to go. Last year I couldn't find a bed and breakfast in Irvine itself; I was told there were "no rooms available those nights: it's the poetry weekend." This year it was easy enough to find somewhere. I'm not sure if this was because theAmerican contingent didn't attend (put off by foot and mouth, I fear) or whether I was a little prompter in my arrangements. Whatever the reason, I was able to book a room at Laurelbank just two minutes from the Burns Club.

The awards ceremony started at 4 o'clock on the Saturday afternoon. Last year it was more than a little daunting walking into a room of complete strangers, many of whom obviously knew each other well. It's something I always hate - where do you sit? Do you just talk to people, or wait to be spoken to? This year it was very different. I recognised several people immediately, but more to the point, I knew that they were all 'friends' whether I'd met them before or not. After all, they were there because of the poetry competition so we must have that much in common at least.

Before the presentations began, everyone was milling around renewing acquaintances, swapping copies of magazines and chapbooks, chatting in general. Although none of the American winners were present, there were others who had travelled from Ireland, from Germany and from all over Britain.

I feel a bit of a cheat competing in the International section of competitions just because I live in Spain, but looking down the programme I found that most of the overseas winners were from the USA and Ireland, so I didn't have an unfair language advantage. As I read the list of names I had a pleasant surprise: 'Sloe Gin' hadn't just been awarded a diploma, but had in fact been placed third, behind 'Loss' by Eileen Casey from Dublin and 'Cardinal' by Len Krisak from the USA.

From the Scottish section I recognised David Purdie (in a kilt) who last year took the trophy and this year was placed third with 'Yirdsang' (Earthsong). Deborah Tyler-Bennett, this year's winner of the Hugh MacDiarmid Trophy, had also received a diploma last year, and Jim Wilson's was another familiar face. (Actually I think he told me it was the fifteenth consecutive year he'd attended!)

At last things settled down and the poets were ushered together for a group photo for the local paper. This year I'd remembered my camera and had already asked a favour of Morag - attending with her brother James McDonald, another kilted Scottish poet - so I have some snaps to remind me.

Last year the awards were presented by Scottish poet Sam Gilliland, this year by Hamish Whyte. I was disappointed that Hamish didn't read any of his poetry, but perhaps the spot light was really on those of us who'd entered the competition. After the diplomas and trophies had been presented, there was a break for a buffet tea and more chat, and then all the poets present were asked to read their poems. There must have been around twenty of us, and maybe another forty guests and organisers, and we spent a very pleasant hour or so. Not only did we get to hear the poems read by the poets themselves, but there was also music provided by Neil Thomson - 'poetry put to song', as he describes it.

All too soon the ceremony was over. Many people had long journeys to make, but some of us were fortunate enough to have the evening ahead of us so we adjourned to the pub. I don't think our conversation was particularly 'poetical' but we certainly found plenty to talk about and stayed until closing time. (I was glad to be staying so conveniently close!)

I've been to severa poetry awards ceremonies now, and it gets easier every time. The first was more of a trauma than a pleasure - not knowing anyone and not knowing what was expected etc. No doubt it's different depending on who's organising the event, but each time I've found some things are the same: spending a few hours in the company of like-minded people, having the opportunity to share your work with others, a general atmosphere of goodwill, supportiveness and interest. It's really not important whether there's a monetary prize - the reward may be less tangible, but it's just as real.