Tina Sederholm

 is a poet, wit and raconteur. She has been writing and performing poetry for more than ten years, and achieved fame, riches and notoriety by becoming the Oxford Hammer and Tongue Slam champion for the 2009/2010 season.

In 2010 she was a member of the winning Oxford team at the Bristol Poetry Festival, and performed at Secret Garden Party, Wood, Oxfringe, Farrago, Hammer and Tongue and Back Room Poets. She has had work published in magazines such as IOTA, Obsessed with Pipework and Interpreter’s House, and been the support act for Elvis McGonagall, Mark Gwynne Jones and Roddy Lumsden.

She has written and produced several short films together with her poet/musician/film-maker/publican husband Neil Spokes, as well as having published three books on training horses.

She could indulge in dubious hyperbole about how marvellous she is, but it is enough to know that she adores writing and performing. Her favourite modus operandi is to massage the status quo into a false sense of security and then deliver a deft kick to its testicles while it isn’t looking. If she had a philosophy it would be ‘Somehow, everything is okay.’

POETRY

THE RULES OF THE GAME

If I am to live with you forever

I must learn to love these things.

Early morning flatulence;

frequent late night explosions too.

Drainpipe trousers, Balkan folk music

and unfortunately

the plays of Harold Pinter.

If I am to live with you forever

I must fall in love with seven -

no - nine guitars, three Marshall amps,

one Allen and Heath mixing desk,

and the same riff played

over and over and over.

If I am to live with you forever

I must fall in love with you

falling in love with my dimpled thighs,

my computer cock-ups,

my occasional need to clean

to my mother's standard of hygiene,

my obsession with CSI Miami.

Saying yes to the road and the boggy track

especially the parts I’m sure

weren’t in the contract;

like stubbly legs and hairy ears,

telling the same jokes year after year,

dandruff sprinkles, cellulite and wrinkles,

IBS and big pants, lost jobs and asthma attacks,

having to be nice to your parents-in-law,

mice in the kitchen and damp in the walls…

All these things so alien

To the dreams we had of lovers.

All these things to learn to love,

not once, not sometimes

but over and over and over.

IT HAPPENS TO EVERYONE

The tablecloth is pockmarked with porridge and

jam. Baby squats on the floor, opening cupboards,

dragging out plates, saucepans.

Her face is sleep streaked, hints of eczema,

hair refuses the restraint of a rubber band.

The dog shrinks from the soft thuds of baby’s hand.

She switches on the kettle, limescale

patches the spout.  Baby throws the dog

a potato. The tablecloth is inside out.

She hands me a mug and I realise

a fork is just as good at stirring

as a spoon. ‘Is there anything I can do?’

Not really, she says, then pauses.

Points to a pile of house and garden magazines,

a box of books, top one called “How to raise a genius”.

Going anywhere near Oxfam?

I nod and smile. She tears open a packet of biscuits.

There is a hint of triumph in her eyes.

www.tinasederholm.com