A few words about my first time at the Poetry Cafe, Covent Garden: So  Tuesday night I decided it was time to go and check out the living, breathing poetry scene, if you were. I brought a couple of my poems to read as I figured that the sense of achievement would pay my own train fare to the city. The venue itself is absoloutely nothing like I expected it to look. From the outside, it has all the charm of a small travel agency (the upstairs interior is nice enough, a few pine tables with a bar), and the basement where the readings take place is akin to a doctor's waiting room with leaflets adorning the walls. Nevermind - a bit of mood lighting and a boozy atmosphere, together with an enthusiastic and committed crowd turn it into an engaging evening out. I've often found that poetry readings are best used for some alone time with your mind, zoning out and letting the words wash over you. I mostly listened though, was pleasantly very impressed with the standard of the readers - their humour and their variety, lovely stuff.