The words "Oh God" whispered softly became something of a mantra for me last week. In fact they took on this role for Paul Winters too. For whenever we thought about the Riverbank Reading Series and what we planned to do at it, it made us terribly nervous, weak at the knees and generally put us off eating. Last year we created the Riverbank Reading Series that was to stand for everything that traditional boring literary evenings didn’t. In short we had to inject a little life into the dying dog, not to mention banning wine and cravats.

 

Last year’s short series of reading’s were the assurance we needn’t that the audience would welcome a new format. One that didn’t involve three hour’s of readings. One where audience member’s needn’t be worried that they might contract economy class syndrome. So this year we decided to give pretentious literary events another stab in the back. It was agreed that the Reading Series would indeed return to the Riverbank monthly from Sept to December. And last Wednesday return we did. Dublin author Claire Hennessy and Kildare novelist Martin Malone were to headline the event. Local up and coming scribes in the form of Clare Herbert and Liam Power we’re also going to be gracing the stage. Several months earlier, surely in a brief moment of lunacy, myself and Paul decided we’d open and close the show musically with a blues band. The band in question being our own - Roderick Tuesday.

 

It was decided that Paul would sing the opening song and that I, for my sins, would sing the closing one. Sufficed to say we we’re both filled with a most terrible dread at the very prospect but also filled with a kind of stupid ideology that we would do this as a matter of principle. Oh God. On the day in question, leading up to 8pm, we found it quite difficult to concentrate on worrying as the usual technical hiccups we’re beginning to rear their mischievous little heads. On top of that, one by one, our guests - the authors, we’re arriving. Time was speeding along oblivious to the fact that we had a lot more to do. So it was that in the most fantastic moment of panic, myself and Paul we’re sitting in the dressing room backstage. I was trying to jot down some author introduction notes when we heard an all too familiar piece of music. The piece of music that played just before the Reading Series began. In a frenzy, Paul and I raced out the dressing room door and darted down to different end’s of the corridor. Paul had to be standing by off stage but yours truly had to be up on the balcony ready to make his entrance when he was introduced by a pre-recorded voice that wouldn’t be waiting. I legged it up the stairs, wheezing and puffing, jumped into the gallery and headed for the door of the balcony. And who should pop his head out through the door but only the Great Paddy Melia who, and I swear to God this is true, says to me "Have you got a minute?" a mere ten seconds before I’m supposed to run down the stairs in my grand Reading Series style entrance. And this is what I did.

 

Flustered beyond belief and in quite some shock at the fifty strong audience members staring out at me I began - "Welcome to the Riverbank Reading Series." This continued on for some time until Paul wandered out on stage, guitar in hand and playing like no Liverpool musician had ever played before. Well, maybe Paul McCartney but he doesn’t enter our story just yet. For now, yours truly runs off stage, grabs a guitar and is then joined back on stage by Rich Clifford on drums and El Kató (Neil Sheehy) on bass to which the Reading Series returns in the most fantastic way possible. The writers are fantastic. Clare Herbert reads her story of a child’s view of heaven. Liam Power reads a scrumptious story about being addicted to chocolate. Claire Hennessy reads a chapter of her new book Afterwards and finally Martin Malone reads a very dark and a very funny story about going crazy - very appropriate for the Reading Series.

 

Then the end comes. The bit I’ve been losing sleep over. The bit where the band come back onstage, where I stand up to the mic and where The Beatles’ song "HELP!" is about to be sung. Oh God. In the lie that performing this song has social significance for the future of Reading Series’ everywhere we belt the song out like there’s no tomorrow. Near the end we struggle to get everyone on their feet which they eventually do and they’re clapping and smiling. And when I seen IMPAC nominated author Martin Malone to be one of the first on his feet and leading the clapping vivaciously I know we’ve achieved our goal of creating an entertaining reading series. As Claire Hennessy so charmingly put it - "it’s a bit mad and quite brilliant."