Five and a half years ago, I received a phone call in my grandmother's kitchen informing me that I was one of 15 winners of the 2006 Foyle Young Poets of the Year Award. She was unclear about what was happening, and to some extent still is.
I've never been a fan of poets navel-gazing, but I suppose the truth is that if poetry doesn't gaze into its own navel once in a while, no one else is going to do it for it. And we ought to remember that the medium in which most people encounter poetry isn't the sold book, but the individual poem, read or heard.
Literary biographers almost invariably conclude that their subject is unjustly neglected and deserves to be more widely read. Few writers have a reputation as uninspiring as Edmund Spenser (1554?-99), a poet who commands hardly any general readers and who English undergraduates routinely shun.
Our final day on the Isle of Wight was blemished with gale force winds of 40mph, but with the vast array of activities available on the Island, we were glad to enjoy an excursion of the 'indoor' variety and took shelter at Farringford; Alfred Lord Tennyson's former home.
Every Friday, Huffington Post Culture picks a poem for your weekend. Today: Coat by Vicki Feaver. Vicki Feaver is an award
She calls herself a poet but Laura Dockrill also illustrates all her work, creates intricate artwork and maps and is now working on a series of children's books. Crane.tv catches up with her.