TONTS. - TONTS. on the road with Hollie McNish

Episode Date: April 22, 2024

Welcome to another episode of TONTS. on the road. Audio grabs from Claire's tour of the UK last year. This one is from her London show with the spoken word poet Hollie Mcnish. Hollie is an award-winning poet, writer and performer. She is the Sunday Times bestselling author of Slug (and other things I’ve been told to hate) and won the Ted Hughes award for new work in poetry with her poetry and parenting memoir Nobody Told Me. She has two further poetry collections, Plum and Cherry Pie, one modern adaptation of the ancient Greek tragedy Antigone and alongside fellow poet Sabrina Mahfouz, co-wrote Offside, a play relating the history of UK women’s football. She loves writing and her live readings are not to be missed. Hollie is currently touring the UK at the moment and her new book Lobster is on sale now.For more from Hollie you can find her here and watch here YouTube video performing Megatron in a Boxing ring here You should definitely watch it!For more from Claire Tonti head hereEditing: RAW CollingsSocial Media: Maisie JPOriginal music: Free by Claire Tonti Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

I would like to acknowledge the traditional owners of the land on which I create, speak and write today. They're a wondery people of the Kulin Nation and pay my respect to their elders past, present and merging. Acknowledging that the sovereignty of this land has never been ceded. I want to acknowledge the people who have given birth on this land, raised children on this land for generations, connected to country and spirit. Hello, welcome to Tons, a podcast of in-depth interviews about emotions and the way they shape our lives. I'm your host, Claire Tonti, and I'm so glad you are here. Each week, I speak to writers, activists, experts, thinkers, and deeply feeling humans about their lives. This episode is another special edition of Tons on the Road, little audio grabs from my tour last

year. This one is from my London show and it's with an incredible poet that I just fell head over heels for. She's hilarious and smart and a rock star if ever there was one and is currently on tour across the UK. Her name is Holly McNish. I found her through her poem Megatron. It's a beautiful YouTube video, which we'll link in the show notes below, where she recites this poem about how motherhood makes you a transformer and is actually cooler than Megatron. And it's her reciting it in a boxing ring, which I just adored. And then I went on a deep dive into her work. Since then, she has released even more extraordinary works and her book Lobster is out in March, 2024. Let me tell you a little bit more about Holly. She has this extraordinary curly blonde hair and this real charisma and presence.

As soon as she turned up in the backstage green room, which was a total mess, we performed in this very funny old theatre in the Isle of Dogs. She had to travel a long way to get there and she had no idea who this mad Australian woman was. And the fact that she agreed to it was just such an adventure for me and such an honour to have her performing. She does, you know, giant sold out shows to thousands of humans. So to come to my little show was just so special to me and her work has meant so much and gave me so much when I was writing my music and still does, to be honest, mainly because it's so bloody funny and honest and great. Holly is an award-winning

poet, writer and performer. She's the Sunday Times bestselling author of Slug and Other Things I've Been Told to Hate and won the Ted Hughes Award for new work in poetry with her poetry and parenting memoir, Nobody Told Me. She has two further poetry collections, Plum and Cherry Pie, one modern adaptation of the ancient Greek tragedy Antigon, and alongside fellow poet Sabrina Marfous, co-wrote Offside, a play relating the history of UK women's football. She loves writing and her live readings are not to be missed. This is one of them. Expect strong language. She's also one of my favourite things about her too. Babes in Arms are always welcome

at her events too. She really is one of my favourite spoken word poets. Here she is, Holly McNish. Give her a big round of applause. Thanks a lot. How's everybody doing? Okay. Thank you very much for having me. It's nice to get just random messages to see if you want to read a few poems that I lovely gave you,

which I can't wait to watch. And you just seem so fucking nice. So, wow. Great. I'll be there. Yes, I'm just going to read nice. Wow. Great. I'll be there. Yes, I'm just going to read that four poems for you. I really hope you enjoy them.

I've actually been told that if you're a Transformers fan, you hate this poem. So I've never been quite so scared to read it in a small room. But I'll start with this one because you spoke about it. This is from a book called

Nobody Told Me, which was just my diary when I was pregnant until my daughter was three. And it was just all the things that I couldn't talk about and didn't think anyone else was thinking, basically, until I started sharing it and realised that there were people

also feeling the same way. But this, I wrote when my daughter was two years and six months old, and I had her when I was 26. And I didn't really know anything about the process of birth. I knew how babies were made, obviously. And sort of what happened. But that was about it.

And in the week that I wrote this poem, I went to see the new Transformers movie, which I really like Transformers. And I liked the movie, sort of. But I'd also done a gigau a chyfarfod. Ac roedd yna dyn sy'n gwneud, roedd hi'n gwneud rhywbeth fel ymwybyddiaeth o'r un peth sy'n digwydd i'ch cofnod pan fyddwch chi'n mynd drwy'r ffregnysu ac i'ch cofnod newid i'ch gallu i'w ffrestu a phethau. Ac roeddwn i'n meddwl, wow, dwi ddim yn gwybod yr holl beth y gwnaeth fy cofnod i fy mab i. and I was just like wow I had no idea everything that my body did until my daughter was two

and then I went to watch this Transformers movie and I was like, that's nothing so that was my mindset when I wrote this poem it's called Megatron because me and my daughter's dad were talking for the whole way about how amazing Transformers were

and it was a bit long for me, the conversation. He said, Megatron's the best one. If I was one, it's him. Optimus Prime's all nice and stuff, but it's Megatron who really wins. I've listened so many times to this since last week's Sodden Transformers hit and I smile until today. I say, Megatron ain't shit. Last year, my hip bones moved another half an inch back together.

He said, Holly, Megatron lives forever. I said, Megatron's not real. If you want to hold a real-life Transformer, come and have a feel. And I pushed his fingers closer and then right inside my stomach to feel the gap my muscles left from something I now know a bit as birth. And I knew that it would hurt, but I did not know the rest. That there's a hole inside my stomach till the day I'm laid to rest.

And no, you're right, I said, it's not the same. I didn't turn into a car. I turned into a factory, a life support and cooker. As my body started morphing, my insides realigned, my digestive system shifted and completely redesigned itself itself. No help from the Decepticons or the Autobots. What vitamins I'd got moved from my blood into hers now, the direction of my nutrients redirected into hers. How? I don't know. Everyone sees the stomach grow.

We do not see the rest. Rib cages cranking up to make more space for baby's legs. Diaphragm moves down. My womb fills up with fluid and a brown line on your skin appears and no one even drew it. A brown line on your skin from between your legs to boobs. The only line a child can see to lead them to the food. Labour came and went. Something that I won't forget. Baby, now in my arms and my system shifted once again. Digestion redirected to two breasts that grew one light

bigger than a large white pair of pantaloons. Get me a pump, I screamed, genuinely worried that they might explode. My boobs stay warm to heat the milk. My nipples make a hole. And every time the baby drinks The suction makes my womb shrink back My hips move back

My ribs and diaphragm move back My hair goes back, my back stretch back And after two more years of doing that My system shifted back Nutrients came back into my own body's blood again And now I'm almost back to how I was Before that seed took life.

Complete transformation without one single robot fight, but no one made an action film of this. In fact, all my body has to show for it are the markings on my belly. My hip bones stayed apart a bit and my breasts are pretty saggy, but the saddest thing of all is that I'm told these marks are bad, but they're the only few reminders of this process we all have as the real-life time transformers. I'm saying Megatron ain't shit compared to female bodies to prepare to grow and feed a kid, and the

only thing our body's given for this optimus of primes is a pot of fucking stretch mark cream to try to hide the signs. Thanks very much. i geisio ceisio cuddio'r nodion. Diolch yn fawr. Diolch yn fawr, Charlie. Ac mae'r llyfr hwn ddim yn ymwneud â'r rhain o'u rhain, mae'n ymwneud â'r anghymddyd aano a phethau sy'n cael eu bod yn cael eu hannog amdano. Felly mae yna gweddill arall o'r llyfr. Mae'r llyfr hon yn cael ei anfon ar gyfer 7-ol.

Rwyf wedi rhannu fy ngad â chi am misau cyn i'r deirio. Y peth mwyaf y gallwch chi ei wneud yw rhoi un o'ch crisps i mi. Dyna. Yn y llyfr nesaf. This one I wrote the first time my daughter went into town on her own with her friends and she was obviously very excited about it and she just left and I spent the whole day gyda ffrindiau gyda phobl, ac roedd hi'n hapus iawn amdano. Ac fe wnaeth hi fynd i ffwrdd, ac fe wnes i ddiwedd y dydd yn cael ei chroi oherwydd roeddwn i'n meddwl y byddai hi'n cael ei gynnal ac roedd hi'n tyfu'n rhy gyd a phethau hynny. Ac pan oedd hi'n dod yn ôl, roedd hi'n cael amser gwych ac fe wnaeth hi ofyn i mi sut oedd fy nôl, ac roeddwn i'n meddwl, ie ie, roedd yn dda. Yn wir, roeddwn i'n cael fy nôl yn cael ei roi yn ffyrdd ymlaen, fel yma. Mae' crying poems all day, like this one.

This is called Sweet Separation. First, you did not need my body anymore. Tombstone of a star, stormed out blind and screaming. Then, you didn't need my heartbeat anymore. Cord cut and pegged till current stopped, till tide dried up, till shriveled skin, unbitter, cardinal closeness dashed into a dustbin. Then you didn't need me, breasts heartening, redundant, cabbage leaf companions to ease the swell of loss. Then you didn't need me to hold your

head as you sat up, to hold your hand as you walked, to hold the spoon as you ate, to jog beside your bicycle, to catch a falling roller sk ate, to jog beside your bicycle, to catch a falling roller skater, to run beside your scooter, to sit beside your bed, to read a story so you sleep, to run my finger under every letter, to mouth each word you read. How strange is this feeling, swaddling you in love just to help you leave. After I wrote that poem, I read a study that apparently, I've only got one kid, and it's a daughter that I've got, and apparently daughters on average leave home at 18,

but sons on average leave home at 35. So, yeah. Maybe it doesn't apply to you if you've got a boy. I don't know what you're doing. You're not doing good. Felly ie, efallai nad yw'n cyflawni i chi, os oes gennych un. feel a bit better. I live in a village where people seem to do loads of stuff with their kids, like there's loads of clubs for kids to play the violin and that's six months old and that's all shit. And I was really, really guilty because my kids didn't want to do one of the park runs, like the job that everyone was doing in that class. And I said to her that she should do it because it was making me look like a bad mother. She didn't want to and I didn't want to do it and I phoned up my mum

and said oh I'm just feeling a bit shit it seems like everyone just does all this stuff with their kids and she was like yeah but they don't really remember specific things they remember the laugh or you know and what's your favourite memory from when you were a kid and I said it

too quickly I think but it was an honest answer but I upset my mother but I remember when I was a kid and I was allowed, I thought it was ac rwy'n meddwl fy mod i wedi dweud hynny'n rhy gydag yn gyflym, ond roedd yn ateb onestig, roeddwn i wedi fy nghyfforddi. Ond rwy'n cofio pan oeddwn i'n blid ac roeddwn i'n cael, roeddwn i'n meddwl roeddwn i'n cael i fynd i mewn fel y bin. Yr un peth pan oedd hi'n dda oedd eu bod yn rhoi ychydig o bwyd cartfwrdd ar y top ac roedd yn gwneud i mi ddod yn y bin ac yn defnyddio'r ffordd o'r trafod. Ond nawr rwy'n sylweddoli eu bod yn defnyddio fy nghyfforddi, mae hi'n mynd i fynd i fynd. But now I realise they're using my body weight to just push me. A little bit, but I really love it. And when the bin was full, I was like, yeah, okay. I can travel now. So, yeah, this is a poem about that.

Thank you so much for listening. And, yeah, thanks, Anthony. Picking memories. Perhaps you will remember all the best bits of our bedtimes, clinging to each other as impatient pages turn Your yawls slow in insistence that you're still not even sleeping Till halfway through our story you pass out on the pillow But perhaps you won't remember, it's more likely that you won't

Perhaps you'll remember all the sandcastles we forged together Buckets sloshing seawater as hopes dissolve in sands Perhaps our facial memory is the mum who always held your hands be forged together, buckets sloshing sea water as hopes dissolve in sands. Perhaps I'll face your memory as the mum who always held your hands, kissed and cuddled clothes away. Or perhaps you'll just remember the days I was quite tired, the days I wasn't there, the things

we didn't do. I can't pick memories for you, God knows I'd like to. As a child, I don't remember much, snapshots to the years, but jumping in the garden bin as mum or dad held both my hands trampolining me on top of piles of rubbish cuttings, branches, stabbing

freshly mowed down grass is one that made it past. I often wonder what yours will be from all these years we've played and if even one is half as good as jumping in a bin and smiling summer days I'll be okay, I'll be okay. I'll be okay.

You've been listening to a podcast today with me, Claire Tonte, and this week an excerpt from a live reading by Holly McNish. You can find more from Holly at her website, Holly Poetry, and you can also find her on Instagram as well. Her new book, Logstar, is out currently and she has dates where she's touring all over the place. And if you get the chance to go and see her perform, do not walk. Run. Really beat down those doors to get in and see her because she's such a cool, funny, just clever human being and a real joy. Okay. Irreverent and just, oh, my God, so brilliant.

Trust me. Just go and follow her on Instagram and watch some of her videos. They're just brilliant. Thank you, as always, to Royal Collings for editing this week's episode and to Maisie for running our social media. I'm also going to be on tour in the UK and I have some dates to share with you. So on the 13th of June, I'm going to be performing in Dublin, an evening show. Then I'm coming to Mum Talks in Dublin, 10am, Cafe Un Sain. Then I am going to be in Cardiff at the Every Woman Festival where I'm running a workshop and you can book in for that on their site and also playing at the festival stage there. Then on the Sunday, I'm doing a

workshop and an evening gig with Lily Redwood in Abergavenny at the Acoustic Lounge there in Wales. Then I am going to be heading to the Matressence Festival, the 21st and 22nd of June in Exeter. I would absolutely love to see you there. We have just the most epic lineup of speakers. We've got Lucy Jones who wrote the book Matressence. We have Liz Berry who wrote The Republic of Motherhood. We have got Dr Pragya Agarwal, author, mother, extraordinary academic. We also have Amy Taylor-Kabaz, matrescence expert from Australia and Mama Rising

coach of the decade. And so many more besides Lakshmi as well, Hussein, who is going to be our resident artist. And just, you've got to come if you can 21st and 22nd of June it's just going to be such a special beautiful intersectional accessible event where women can enter in however they need to where people can come you can bring your kids you can have your babies there it's neurodiverse friendly as well and we're going to be eating delicious food too and singing and workshopping and making art and writing poetry and it'll be divine. So I would love to see you there. And for more from me, you can head to claretonty.com. I also have an album called Matrescence about my transition to motherhood that I sang before

Holly performed in this episode. So you can find all of that and a link to my new song, To Breathe, which is a meditation song just on Spotify or on my website, claire20.com or on my Instagram, I like to tell stories at claire20. Okay, that's it for me this week. Speak to you soon. Bye. freedom we want all of it spent so long being good girls can't breathe through it we're gonna rip it up we're gonna tear it down this cage you want us in no longer fits our crowns because we are fire and we can be free we can unlearn all the things that they told us we should be cause we are fire and we can finally breathe we can unlearn all the things that they told us we should be we can be free We can be free

And don't forget that bodies can break They want us hungry and humble Thinking our worth isn't our weight Thought if we starved ourselves To fit their box and fit their mold We'd lose our fight, stay small, wait to be told That we are fire and we can be free We can unlearn all the things that they told us we should be

Cause we are fire and we can finally see We can unlearn all the things that they told us we should be. We can be free. We can be free. We're gonna rip it up. We're gonna eat it whole. Hear my voice now. We're gonna rip it up, we're gonna eat it all. Hear my voice now, we're gonna take it all. We're gonna rip it up, we're gonna eat it all.

Hear my voice now, we're gonna take it all. Cause we are fire and we can be free We can unlearn all the things that they told us we should be Cause we are fire and we can finally breathe We can unlearn all the things that they told us we should be We can be free We can be free We can be free We can be free

We can be free We can be free We can be free