Journal Club: Turn Towards

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‘Turning toward’ is the theme for tonight’s journaling club in Hinterland. It’s Wednesday 1st April. To warm up, Organiser Fi allows us to choose between one of 2 10-minute exercises – the free-write prompt ‘When I meet something I am avoiding with curiosity’ or the poem ‘Turning Towards with Curiosity.’  More specifically, turning towards understanding, towards the thing that we’re avoiding. 

Next up, a 5-minute prompt: 

MY FAVOURITE THING TO AVOID IS…  

I tend to avoid difficult conversations, or at least I used to. A few times gripes would go undisclosed, out of a fear that everything would kick off. These days, not so much. I’ll have the argument if needs be. But I get no pleasure from it. A lot of the time, I’ll just think, what’s the point? Writing this, and knowing that I’m going to put it on the blog, is a prime example. There’s a guy I know who came out with a lot of racist shit in a group chat a few weeks ago. I asked another guy what he thought about it, but he wasn’t too bothered. 

The gong goes, indicating the timer. 

We discuss the idea of ‘Turning away from’ and ‘Turning towards.’ Key points: 

ACTION 

VISIBILITY 

STILLNESS 

CHANGE (CONSISTENCY) 

DISCOMFORT 

FEAR 

The next prompt, filling the gap with a word of our choice from the above: 

WHAT HAPPENS WHEN I’M TURNING AWAY FROM ___ ? 

I chose fear.  

I find in life, and in psychology books, that a theme keeps emerging about fear and awkwardness. Any attempt to escape pain only results in more pain. Any awkwardness or difficult conversations are only going to be more awkward or difficult if they’re avoided. I do feel that fear these days. It’s not that bad, having a disagreement. Sometimes, they just aren’t the right people anyway, so that fear is pointless.

The next writing exercise: a choice of 2. 

1. Free write on the prompt: ‘When I meet something I  am avoiding with curiosity…’ 

2. A poem titled ‘Turning Towards with Curiosity.’ 

I chose the second. I don’t dabble in poetry very often these days.  

Enter their spirit, he says. 

Pay attention. Turn towards. Forget yourself. 

That knot in your stomach, the fear, the sickness, 

The inferiority complex. 

Ignore it.  

Ignore your weakened knees. 

Your pounding heart. 

You think of the advice. 

You think of the NHS sessions. 

Focus. Listen. 

Develop the tunnel vision. 

Forget the beer, your mates, 

Her mates. Absorb. 

Tune out the environment. 

Actually listen.   

The timer went at that point and marked the end of the session. 

Good group of journalers. I allowed myself to get a bit personal, which is always a challenge. After each exercise we had the opportunity to read out what we’d written, within our tables, or to the whole group, if we’re brave. 

Journal club will probably be back at the start of May. See Hinterland’s events roster for more.  

Get involved this Easter Weekend - Manchester

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Here it comes. Easter weekend bank holiday. Lots of plans on the horizon. No need to stay in! 

Wednesday night: Journaling club returns to Hinterland for their monthly writing night. 7pm. Free tickets. Free writing, poetry, prompts, a chance to express yourself and a great vegan alcohol-free menu. There’s a meetup with Manc Mates, which I’m hoping will open out Hinterland’s events to a new audience. 

Last week I got food in refurbished Victorian hall Mackie Mayor, now a hipster food court with independent businesses. I’ve ran meetups there before that went down well, so figured it’d be great to bring this back. Manchester Nightlife will be there from 7pm Saturday, meeting in the Stray bar on the corner. Come join! 

Sunday night: last minute decision here, but how about a Stevenson Square bar crawl? Some great quirky bars, all close together, and is a night that has been popular before. Maybe wear a raincoat. Flok from 8. 

Expect a new monthly project soon involving alcohol, meetups, books, blogging and I guess some expenditure.

Confidence Session in Hinterland

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‘Keep the pen moving,’ suggests Fi. ‘Think about what you want to gain from the session.’ 

Organisers Fi and Alex welcome us to a trial for a confidence course they are planning to run. It’s Friday, 27th Feb. This is the warmup exercise.

Confidence is a lifelong battle. It’s something I’m never not working on. I’ve been to a lot of confidence-related events. I’m hoping to learn something new, to help other people and challenge myself. Confidence affects people in different ways. Are people confident in work? In gym and sports? In relationships? When speaking 1-1 or in front of an audience? It can vary. People can have an abundance in one way but none in another. From my years of researching these things, my conclusion is that confidence comes from understanding that no matter what happens, I’ll be okay.

Confidence course in Hinterland Manchester

[image or embed]

— Matt Tuckey 🇬🇧 (@matttuckey.bsky.social) 11 March 2026 at 10:32

We discussed each of these points. 

SAY NO 

Learn to tolerate the discomfort of rejecting. Save time for rest and creativity. 

SAY YES 

Doing so before feeling really ready is liberating. You don’t have to know the end goal. Fi reads out the poem I Will Not Die an Unlived Life, by Dawna Markova. 

TO SHINE 

This can look like imposter syndrome when you take on a bigger challenge that draws attention. There’s space for all of us to shine. Fi asks, where do I make myself smaller than I need to? 

BE DIFFERENT 

It takes confidence to be different. What part of me have I tried to avoid that may actually be a strength? 

DO NOTHING 

What does it mean to be worthy, but not productive? When have I felt uncomfortable in my own inaction? Alex takes over here and explains that some words have immediate impact. For an example: 

CONFIDENCE. 

The source of true confidence, he claims, is to speak, be honest, and be authentic. Own your own personal power. Confidence, Alex explains, comes from the Latin confideri, meaning ‘with full trust.’ The Indo-European original word before it is Fideri, meaning ‘persuading,’ and from the Latin we also get related words like ‘conning’ and ‘con artists.’ It’s the belief, he tells us, ‘in veracity or truth of another.’ He encourages us to stand with confidence with your whole being. 

Interesting session. There is always, and I hate to say it, the question of who’s authority are they telling us this? Are they qualified psychotherapists? How much trust can we put into this? Would the NHS agree with their sessions? 

Now to put it into practice…

Journaling Club: MY BODY IS NOT A BATTERY

MY BODY IS NOT A BATTERY is written in bloc caps on the flipchart in front of us. This time, at Hinterland’s monthly Journaling Club, there’s no gong to signify the start of the session, but the metal bowl and hammer have the required effect. Organiser Fi establishes a few basic rules for the group, remaining confidentiality and speaking from ‘I’ – writing of our own experiences, etc. before we dive into the first writing prompt. We have a choice of 2. 

I’VE COME HERE BECAUSE / RIGHT NOW MY ENERGY IS 

Right now my energy is high. I’ve just come from a pump class and have eaten very little. I welcome a moment of calm, and this vegan burger is going down a treat. Christmas presents are all bought early, for once, with 1 or 2 still to pick up. My recent challenge, The Saddleworth Santa Dash, is done and dusted. I’m now projectless, spiralling into junk food and knock-off Aldi alcohol. -- I’ve come here because I’m looking for other things to do socially, not just bars and clubs. Yet I’ve found myself on my own table. I’ve ran a Manc Mates meetup to this with about 8 attendees. Are any of them here? 

Gong. 

The next prompt: we can choose from 2. 

MY ENERGY IS SHAPED BY / A TIME I WAS SURPRISED BY MY ENERGY CHANGING WAS 

My energy is shaped by food. I’ve just dieted for 2 months for the aforementioned race; I’ve eaten mountains of veg and meat. The race went well, and I’ve felt strong in gym classes. I’ve focussed in work, no major issues as far as I know, and meetup groups have gone well. All of this is through cutting out chocolate, takeaways, alcohol etc. Now I’m mixing them back in I’m noticing the sluggishness again, the slight dip in mood. The sleep disruption. My plan was basically to be a pisscan for the month of December, but I don’t think I can tolerate abusing my body in this way. Maybe during Christmas I should try to change my energy back again. 

Gong. 

Next prompt on the flipchart: 

MY BODY IS NOT A BATTERY  

I decided to go into rhyme for this. 

A third alarm awakes me from slumber 

The light and the music, and I am still under 

I hear the radio as if from a distance 

My body is offering major resistance 

A shattering loudness, the mobile phone 

Completes the trinity and brings my mind home 

Hard to stand up and engage my cranium 

I feel like I’ve just drank depleted uranium 

 - 

The gong sounded and Fi invited me to read this out, so I did. 

Fi reminded us that Hinterland have lots of events lined up in January. The next journaling group is 7th January. Other events will revolve around community, art and play. 

We end with a reminder of the acronym 

FAST: 

Forgive 

Accept 

Surrender 

Time to move forward 

This, the presenter explains, is the best way to get over negative thoughts. 

Thankfully throughout the evening all my thoughts, aside ranting in rhyme about insomnia, have been positive.

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Come and Ro/tate in Ashton on Saturday

The run-up to Christmas may be a quiet and busy time, but it needn’t be dull. You don’t even have to wait for the weekend for Manchester’s events to pop up. 

Wednesday night: vegan alcohol-free bar Hinterland hosts their monthly journaling club, featuring writing exercises from creative prompts. Meetup group Manc Mates is going, with 7 people signed up there alone. Free tickets are listed on Eventbrite. 

 

Saturday night: my mate Paul Smith brings the house music and camaraderie in Browtons bar in Ashton for Ro/tate, the last night of 2025 from DJ collective Hype/Drive. Always a good night wherever they get booked. I’ve put up a meetup with Manchester Nightlife. 

Come join us!

20 Years of Meetup

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Back in 2009 I joined a little-known website called Meetup, a place for people to meet people to do certain activities based on their location. Writers Connect was the first group I joined, a community of creative types writing mostly short fiction and poetry. They were a good group that I was a member of for many years until it folded in 2018. 

In around 2014, Meetup- a site I’d been on for quite a while – seemed to blossom quickly, with more groups opening up every day. I’d had no idea until this week, that the site was way older than this. 

Meetup has just celebrated its 20-year anniversary. The heads of Meetup- the site- are running a meetup- as in an event- virtually, at 8pm GMT on Thursday. ‘The CEO will share what’s coming in 2022 including measures for organizer success and exciting product updates.’ Sounds good. I haven’t been to a meetup in yonks- even before the pandemic- but I’m interested to see how it plans to compete with other tech bringing people together (the Pickle app being one. Wikipedia claims it’s about matching jobs to tradesmen, but it’s mostly people looking for drinking buddies.) 

On the blog this week: a review of the Teeline project, and a potential psychopharmacological project is lined up.

Goodbye, Nexus, NQ cafe

Manchester's Nexus Art Cafe has become the latest casualty in Manchester's fight against COVID-19. Meeting point for many a writers' group, the cafe was a great, cosy, quiet spot serving tasty toasties and rocky road. Most of the stories I got published were workshopped behind their walls.

We’re very sad to announce that Nexus has not been able to weather the Covid-19 storm. As a not-for-profit organisation, our margins were always very small, and even with your help we didn’t have the reserves to keep us going. pic.twitter.com/ZRA3dNhOQ3

— Nexus Art Café (@NexusArtCafe) July 12, 2020

The staff were always friendly and considerate, frequently donating 'The Nook,' their private room, for our sessions. I remember one time, after a 2-hour critiquing session pulling apart some strong stories and poems, I absent-mindedly left my wallet on one of their sofas- they hung on to it 'til I called in again later that night.

A great cafe. It'll be missed.

Developments on Last Year's Burgalry, Other Positives

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#manchester #graffitiart

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I mentioned back in May that I was burgled the previous July, now over a year ago. I know exactly who did it. I just don't have the proof.

The culprit- we'll call him Kenny- was recently evicted from the Littlemoor estate, and I hadn't seen him in months. On Tuesday, I saw him on George St in Oldham in a wheelchair, being pushed by another man. Is this the result of a degenerative disease? Or an assault? Or is it an attempt at benefit fraud? Does anyone know anything about this? If so, hit me up.

Recently, police raided a scrapyard in Oldham, and found parts of my stolen car. They're planning to prosecute, so I made sure I reminded them about the the connecting man.

In other news I hit 90kg on vertical grip bench press, a PB I haven't beaten since 2011. This is largely due to Oldham's main sports centre not having a chest machine with vertical handles. Chadderton Sports Centre, where Oldham's Andy's Man Club is held, does. I fit in a cheeky session before the club meets.

Today I visited Orton's Writers Circle in Nexus Art Cafe. I got some great feedback on a poem I wrote. I'll polish it up and you'll see it here soon. They're keen for me to write more of the same style.

It's been a good week:

The meeting with Ortons Writers Circle went great and the feedback I got on a poem allowed me to polish it off and upload it on Wednesday. I've got another poem for the group to review soon.

Saturday:

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Haul from Sachas Comic Fair #graphicnovel #screenplays #starshiptroopers #shallowgrave #trainspotting

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I don't remember @snickers diversifying this much?! @buymoreshit #northernquarter #manchester #nightlife

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SMPLE Community

Tonight I dropped into the SMPLE: Work for a Magazine meetup in Nexus Art Cafe in the Northern Quarter. SMPLE is an online magazine based in Vancouver, Canada, born from a tech company, focussing on art, culture, music and lifestyle. Organiser Josh Potts is taking the lead in the UK, and sat out in the garden of Nexus he described how he's looking for contributors for the 'cinematic' project: as well as written content he's hoping to include video documentaries on a range of topics, with 'no mandate on what we can and can't do.'

The project is all about empowerment, collaboration and even some cash rewards. It's early days, but I'm hoping that the community will give an opportunity for people like me to get our writing seen by a bigger audience than just our own blog readers.

What the Monkey's Thinking

Not the described picture, but a similar one

The following was written some years ago but not uploaded as the picture we used for this writing exercise was taken down from the walls of the cafe. Writers Connect has since folded, but another group runs in the same venue.

Writers Connect are held fortnightly in Nexus Art Cafe in the Northern Quarter. The café's walls are adorned with painintgs and craftwork, one of which is a large, elaborate oil piece of a monkey. We used this as a prompt.

Fluffy Oakes, zoological consultant extraordinaire, sits facing the glass of the monkey enclosure with his steel clipboard and pen poised.

Most of the marmosets are asleep, but one- the zoo named him Max- is engaged in a stare-off. The room is very quiet. Fluffy writes, 'Attentive.'

Max peers over the glass at Fluffy's clipboard, chin raised, like he's trying to look at what he's written.

It started at the turn of the century in the States- zookeepers had managed to teach animals to tap objects based on verbal instructions for rewards. Oldham Zoo were intent on taking it a step further.

The marmoset pressed his hands against the glass.

“Lie Down,” Fluffy instructed.

Max shrugged, or so it seemed.

Fluffy held up a bag of peanuts. “Lie. Down.”

Max dropped to his hips, propping his head up on his elbow, human-like.

Fluffy passed the peanut through the sliding drawer and Max devoured it.

It was time to move things on. Fluffy pressed his lips together, as Max watched. He made a “pah” sound. He held up another peanut. “Pah.”

Eventually, Max would copy, and language would follow.

18-24/6

So, this week, I asked Georgia Harrison from last year's Love Island, who she thought would win in a fight between a baboon and a badger. (Baboons, as they're more 'aggy.')

Other than that, I grew some balls and read out a poem about depression at Orton's Writers Circle. I got some great feedback on it and I'm now ready to knock it into shape before churning it out to a few magazines. I felt a little awkward reading it out but the group were understanding and supportive.

Haircut and blogging. #friday

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4-10/6

This week, in order:

Love Island Season 4 has begun, and I am for some reason watching it. All getting a bit samey. The launch was Monday, raking in 2.9 million viewers, double of last year's launch. I watch it to see if I can pick up tips with women, but after watching season 2+3 I can't say I've learned jack shit. Still, I'll probably be getting my picture taken with a few of these characters in random Manchester bars over the coming months.

I attended a pretty unique event on Tuesday night. Have you ever been networking and go-karting at the same time? I went to Netkarting at TeamKarting Rochdale on Tuesday night, ran by Director Andy Hall and CEO Matty Street. A nicely arranged, unique night with 2 bouts of karting, a presentation from the organisers and a chance to meet other people for business networking.

#Networking done on track action about to start. #NetKarting #TeamKarting pic.twitter.com/FZ56cPb4hD

— Matty Street (@mattystreet96) June 5, 2018

I can't kart for the fucking life of me, but it was still fun. I was so bad, in fact, that I got pulled over for blocking or something. I dunno.

Friday: finished work and on leave until the 20^th.

Sunday afternoon: Orton's Manchester Writers Circle met in Nexus, and I dropped in to check out the new group. Writers Connect has unfortunately folded after around 9 years of twice-monthly meetings. Sad times. But Ortons met today in the same place an hour earlier, midday. Their meetings seem a little more varied, not just critique sessions, and at a variety of times. We'll see how it goes. Today's meeting went well, with no warm-up exercise unfortunately but some very knowledgeable advice being dished out.

That is all.

Undercover in the Officer's Mess

NaPoWriMo's Day 17 prompt suggests that we write a poem re-telling a family anecdote that has stuck with you over time.

My mum's Uncle Dick, greyed and portly,

welcoming us into his flat. Nine decades

of stories, anecdotes and experience.

Royal Air Force pension keeping him comfortable,

he hands me a cold glass of orange juice

and casts his mind back.

I realise, too late, I should be recording this.

Granville, my mum's dad, arrives at the RAF barracks,

war weary, the grit and oil of a hundred trucks washed from his skin,

The Cairo sand long gone from under his nails.

Some time in the 60s, out near the Suez Canal,

Granville is here to see his brother.

The familiar strangling Egyptian heat,

A world away from the mild and refreshing English sun.

Dick is an officer, a few decorations on his blazer,

quiet reminders of the roaring horrors of those six years.

His friends and colleagues are all his level,

The like-minded and fellow-afflicted.

A spare jacket is an easy procure, Granville's size.

His brother's disguise.

They enter the Officer's Mess, Granville quiet,

eyes roaming.

The war ends, he thinks, and only now do I go undercover.

Crackle of a snooker break towards the back,

a couple of pints being clinked together

in a thin layer of cigar smoke.

A door shuts. Eyes head to the sound,

a flock of salutes.

Warrant Officer on deck. Granville mimics the officers.

Dick makes some formal introductions. The blagging continues.

“I see you have the Africa Star,” says the Warrant Officer.

Granville nods. He's not felt this uncomfortably warm since Cairo.

“Well done.” A polite smile for Granville. A knowing glance to Dick.

The Warrant Officer departs. The brothers had earned their breakfast.