A week so far, full of days worthy of International Women’s week. Take yesterday, for example. Routine breast scan. The NHS seem to think it’s OK for me to travel 100 mile round trip to attend this. And in the interests of my health, I concede. Humph. Compensated, however, by the usual wonderful standard of sizzling fajitas at Plunkett’s in York. The sassy chilli sauce was a most necessary armour against the bitterly cold winds whipping around the cathedral. No wonder York was so quiet. Out of Plunkett’s, and hot-foot into the snug ambiance of the Exhibition Hotel. Yes, it’s the Spoken Word evening. The room’s packed, listening to the vibrant Rose, MC, introducing an eclectic mix of verse, performance poetry and story. I threw a couple of poems into the pot. The literary scene here certainly seems alive and kicking! And tomorrow, it’s off to Durham for the Poetry Jam, Waddington Street, starting at 7pm. Yay!