Simon Armitage - All Points North: the bestselling memoir from the new Poet Laureate

PENGUIN BOOKS

ALL POINTS NORTH

An original and talented writer highly entertaining and there are flashes of wit and moments of tenderness and brilliantly accurate observation

'From Harvey Nicks in Leeds to the Humber Bridge in Hull, poet Simon Armitage forays forth from his home town of Marsden, nesding in the Pennines Anecdote, autobiography and observation all blend into Our Friend in the North's heroically haphazard, unofficial guide to that other England'

He has a dry, northern delight in the absurd built in rather than bought in and a mastery of metaphor All Points North is a perfect holiday dipper

'The best book I have read in a long time on what he insists is the true North of England'

'Armitage amply demonstrates that it's not necessary to journey far from your home in order to witness an extraordinary spectrum of weirdness he blends not-so-grim Northern stereotypes with contemporary pop culture references, is charmingly self-disparaging, unbearably touching without getting maudlin, and sometimes, as in his description of the local amateur dramatic society's visit to Bridlington, he makes you laugh out loud'

'A thoughtful, witty combination of travel writing, autobiography and Alan Bennett-style diary'

'Every true Yorkshire man or woman will recognize themselves or a loved one in this enjoyable and easy to read collection of situations which often border on the bizarre. Beautifully written so you feel you know all the characters as though they were old friends, this book is a must for anyone who loves the north'

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Simon Armitage was born in West Yorkshire in 1963. In 1992 he won one of the first Forward Prizes for poetry, and a year later was the Sunday Times Young Writer of the Year. His Selected Poems appeared in 2001, and in 2007 he published a highly praised translation of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. He received an Ivor Novello Award for his song lyrics in the BAFTA-winning film Feltham Sings. First published in Penguin in 1999, All Points North is now reissued with Armitage's new book, Gig. He works as a freelance writer, broadcaster and playwright, and has written extensively for radio and television.

Simon Armitage lives near Huddersfield with his wife and daughter.

Simon Armitage

PENGUIN BOOKS

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First published by Viking 1998

Published in Penguin Books 1999

This edition published 2009

Copyright Simon Armitage, 1998

All rights reserved

The moral right of the author has been asserted

Acknowledgements are due to Kim Flintcroft for his contribution to Jerusalem, and also to Alison Carter of Holmes Associates, London

Except in the United States of America, this book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser

ISBN: 978-0-141-92397-0

I was demoralized when I left Bradford for Florida Frederick Delius

The use of the pronoun one to mean any person, I, or me is often regarded as an affectation the less formal you can usually replace it successfully and is safer when one is launching into a long statement. Concise Oxford Dictionary

I rode over the mountains to Huddersfield and a wilder people I never saw in all England. The men, women and children filled the streets as we rode along and appeared just ready to devour us. They were, however, tolerably quiet while I preached; only a few pieces of dirt were thrown. John Wesley's Journal, June 1757

True story. Last winter, three men from a village in West Yorkshire went fishing off the coast near Scarborough, and hauled in an unexploded mine from the Second World War. A crowd gathered to look at the bomb, and a reporter from local television turned up to interview the men on the beach. When the reporter asked one of them if they'd been frightened, he said, No, we're alright, us.

*

I live on the border, between two states. On the one hand, I am who I am, and I know who that person is. It's me, and I can prove it. I've got family and friends who'll vouch for me. I've got a birth certificate to show where I'm from, a passport that says where I've been, and neighbours who know where I live. I've lived here all my life, just about, and I know this place like the back of my hand. I know what I'm doing and I know what it's doing to me. And I know about belonging, and which of the people are my lot us. We're a mixed bunch, although it's all relative, and one of us is no more mixed and no less relative than the rest. Me. On the other hand, sometimes it's somebody else. Those mixed-up days when it's easier to spot yourself in a crowd than recognize yourself in a mirror. On those occasions, it isn't me doing the rounds, getting about, going here, there and everywhere, but it isn't some stranger either. It's the other person, the second one. It's you.

You live on the border. It's a cultural fault-line, this side of it being the Colne Valley, West Yorkshire, the last set of villages strung out along the trans-Pennine A 62. Over the hill on the other side is Saddleworth, Lancashire. Saddleworth used to be in Yorkshire but the Boundary Commission recognized the watershed for what it was. One day a sign appeared at the brow of the hill saying Oldham Metropolitan Borough in luminous green letters. The day after that, the sign was obliterated with a shotgun wound, and a hand-painted board with the word Saddleworth was planted in front of it, finished off with a huge white rose. The council took down the offending object but a couple of days later it was back, this time in metal, and the official sign torn up from the soil and left mangled on the hard shoulder. This went on for months until the council gave up or couldn't be bothered. Today, both signs stand next to each other, making whatever lies beyond a kind of no man's land. All we know is that this side is Yorkshire, always was, and on the other side the buses are a different colour. People setting off into Saddleworth for the day talk about going over the top, as if they shouldn't necessarily be expected back.

Bulletins arrive in various forms, telling you what you're like, who you are. In the morning it's the