Author Archives: Scout Winser

  1. Announcing our 2025 Autumn Performance Programme

    Comments Off on Announcing our 2025 Autumn Performance Programme

    In anticipation of chillier days ahead we seek to provide comfort with our Autumn Performance Programme. Much-needed laughter, outrageous interactions, otherworldly experiences, and moments of nostalgia can be expected in this eclectic season of events. From left field comedy and cabaret, to experimental dance and physical theatre, extraordinary spoken word and new writing, delightfully eccentric family theatre, and everything in between.

    All exceptional, high quality work, and all available through our Pay What You Can ticket scheme, starting from as little as £8, or £5 for Students & Under 25s.

    Read on for some highlights from our Performance Programmer Katy or check out the full programme here.

    Autobiographical stories from South West based creatives are in abundance. Will Adamsdale – one of the leading forces behind Exeter’s thriving comedy scene –presents AI AI Oh (or how I wrote a hit sitcom with ChatGPT but we’re not talking now) following a hugely successful work-in-progress performance here last year.

    AI AI OH
    Tue 04 Nov | 7.30pm

    find out more
    Will Adamsdale stands, arms crossed, with a pink an orange filter over a green background.
    Jackie looking perplexed with a crystal and carrots around her head.

    Multiple poetry slam winner Jackie Juno – well-loved in the local spoken word scene – brings us Cancer Dancer: My Quirky Quest for a Cure, a multi-media show combining comedy, music, dance, film and a lot of carrots, to celebrate being alive!

    CANCER DANCER:
    MY QUIRKY QUEST FOR A CURE
    Sat 15 Nov | 6.30pm

    find out more

    Autumn wouldn’t feel complete without a little spookiness going on… Local playwright Jon Nash presents a ghost story based on true events that took place at the University of Exeter back in 2006. Delivered with a mischievous glint in his eye, Jon shares recordings of the students involved in the ill-fated experiment, and takes us through the history of paranormal investigations in Is Anybody There?

    IS ANYBODY THERE?
    Fri 26 Sep | 6.30pm

    find out more
    A man dressed in black with a witches hat sitting inside a witches cauldron with his head in hand smiling, whilst bright disco colour lights emanating from the cauldron around him, there is a spooky forest background.

    Neurodiverse comedian Edy Hurst takes us on a weird and heart-warming journey of self-discovery through the realms of the Lancashire Witch Trials and The Vengaboys in Edy Hurst’s Wonderfull Discoverie of Witches in the Countie of Himself.

    EDY HURST'S WONDERFULL DISCOVERIE OF WITCHES 
    Fri 03 Oct | 7pm

    find out more

    And Spork! return once again with their hugely popular annual Dead Poets Slam on Halloween, hosted by the gruesome twosome that is Edward Tripp & Chris White.

    SPORK! DEAD POETS SLAM
    Fri 31 Oct | 7pm

    find out more

    Early noughties coming-of-age stories hit hard: peppered with pop culture references, Hasbian brings to life Beth Watson’s real life teenage diary through quirky storytelling, hilarious animations, creative captioning, integrated audio description and candid queer confessions.

    HASBIAN
    Sat 18 Oct | 6.45pm

    find out more

    The Chaos That Has Been and Will No Doubt Return – one of my personal highlights of last year’s Edinburgh Fringe – promises exceptionally slick new writing and high octane performances that transport us through the highs and lows of adolescent expectations, and firmly places working-class stories centre stage.

    THE CHAOS THAT HAS BEEN AND WILL NO DOUBT RETURN
    Tue 18 Nov | 7.30pm

    find out more

    During October half-term young people and their families can encounter a curious creature from another world in Airport Alien – a fantastical tale about the pursuit of happiness told through inventive visuals, puppetry, song and giggles galore!

    AIRPORT ALIEN
    Mon 27 Oct | 2pm | 5+

    find out more

    We are excited to be joining forces with Exeter Northcott for the October Scratch Night, which will be presented as part of their Elevate Festival; an annual celebration of local artists and new work. Experience the first sparks of four exciting work-in-progress performance pieces, from performance art, play extracts, storytelling, comedy, clowning, improv, dance and physical theatre to multidisciplinary work of any genre.

    SCRATCH NIGHT
    Mon 13 Oct | 7.30pm

    find out more

    Scratch Night Applications are now open for South West based artists to submit their ideas. Find out more and apply >

    The celebration of homegrown talent continues in November as our resident dance company South West Dance Hub Present An Evening of Dance & Collaboration, packed full of exciting new and developing dance works from Swift Dance Company and emerging regional performance makers.

    SOUTH WEST DANCE HUB PRESENT: AN EVENING OF DANCE & COLLABORATION
    Mon 10 Nov | 7pm

    find out more

    These are just a few of the exhilarating live performance offerings you can look forward to. Discover more here.

  2. Mental Health Awareness Week 2025

    Comments Off on Mental Health Awareness Week 2025

    Image: Creative Minds: Devon Mental Health Alliance Exhibition at Bloom 2024 (Jorbein Photography)

    This time last year, we hosted our Bloom Festival, where we partnered with a wide range of local groups and organisations to promote good mental health and wellbeing through a day of free activities.

    This Mental Health Awareness Week (Mon 12 May - Sun 18 May), we are using our platform to raise awareness of local organisations that offer mental health support across Devon.

    Step One

    Step One offers a variety of support options across Devon, supporting people with mental health challenges, learning disabilities, and neurodiversity. The charity empowers people to achieve greater independence and mental wellbeing.

    Their service, BeWell@StepOne, offers group-based support through online workshops, in-person courses, support groups, activities and learning opportunities. All sessions are free and run by professional wellbeing practitioners, and the service is available to anyone over the age of 18 living in Devon.

    Find out more about BeWell@StepOne >

    Step One also recently launched their Wellbeing@Work service to help organisations create workplaces where everyone feels supported, valued and empowered. They provide practical strategies to support diverse wellbeing needs, promote healthier responses to stress, and foster a culture where everyone feels safe, valued, and included.

    Find out more about Wellbeing@Work >

    Woman in front of many of banner.

    Image: Step One at Bloom 2024 (Jorbein Photography)

    Devon Mind

    Devon Mind is an independent mental health charity affiliated with the national Mind association. They provide advice, information, and support to empower anyone living in Devon who may be experiencing a mental health problem. They also campaign to improve local support services, raise awareness, and promote the understanding of mental health across Devon.

    Find out more about Devon Mind >

    moMENtum

    moMNtum is a peer support group run by and for non-offending adult male survivors of child sexual abuse.

    Find out more about moMNtum >

    Focused Light

    Conceived and founded by Anthony Lyons, of moMNtum. Anthony Lyons writes:

    Focused Light: Using Art to Reconnect - a creative space dedicated to fostering well-being and artistic expression through analogue photography and other creative forms. We cater to a diverse clientele but primarily trauma-based groups, more specifically for male adults that have experienced historical sexual abuse. Offering a safe and supportive environment for exploration, healing, and community building.

    Find out more about Focused Light >

    For counsellors, psychotherapists, students, and those with a deep interest in mental health:

    Iron Mill College

    South West Counselling and Psychotherapy Conference 2025

    Iron Mill College is proud to present the South West Counselling and Psychotherapy Conference 2025.

    At the heart of counselling and psychotherapy lies the power of human connection. Yet, we find ourselves navigating a world increasingly shaped by AI and technology.

    How do we sustain relational depth in our practice amidst this digital shift?

    Join them on June 14th for a thought-provoking day of talks, workshops, discussion, and debate from our exciting line up of speakers, including Keynote: Dr Graham Music, Dr Ana Lund, Matthew Hill and James Barnes. Tickets: £75 - £100.

    Find out more about the conference >

    South West Counselling and Psychotherapy Conference 2025

  3. Bloom Poetry Competition 2021 Winners

    Comments Off on Bloom Poetry Competition 2021 Winners

    We hosted the inaugural Bloom Poetry Competition as part of Bloom 2021: Exeter's Online Festival Of Mental Health Awareness . Submissions were invited on the theme of 'nature and the environment'. Poems could touch on themes of mental health and wellbeing, but there was no requirement to do so.

    We were bowled over by the quality of entries to the festival, and our judging panel had a difficult job whittling over 350 entries down to the shortlist below. You can read the winning poems and shortlisted entries below.

    Bloom Poetry Competition

    Winner:

    • 'Cherie' by Paul Warnes

    Highly Commended:

    • 'Tree In the Woods' by Toby Brooks
    • 'Outlines' by Tia Meraki
    • 'General Sherman' by Will Mortimore
    • 'Rhubarb Fields' by Joséphine Sourgnes

    Bloom Junior Poetry Competition (Under 18s)

    Winner:

    • 'Help Me Moon' by Safiya Tiotto-Smith

    Highly Commended:

    • 'Flowers' by Malilka John
    • 'Four Seasons In One Head' by Kitra Oldham
    • 'Treacle beaded fingertips' by Kizzy Rollings

    Bloom Poetry Competition: Overall Winner

    Cherie
    By Paul Warnes

    An Autumn storm stripped you.
    “Is tree dying?” my daughter asked.
    You were both very young.

    For seventeen years I have watched over you-
    watched your shadow in the streetlight
    edge further abroad,
    your branches stretch and brush
    the walls of another home.

    When you were small I cut the stake
    that tethered you,
    stripped away the creeping ivy
    that strangled you,
    tended the lacerations
    that scarred you,
    Raked the leaves that you shed like tears
    when the cold came.

    And in return, each Spring birthday,
    I swam in cherry blossom scent.

    I’ve watched you both grow and change
    but now she’s gone- uprooted.

    Bloom Poetry Competition: Highly Commended

    A Tree In The Woods
    By Toby Brooks

    I saw a tree today
    Under the white sky.

    It leant on another,
    With its roots exposed.

    It still grew though and
    Started to meander upwards.

    Years and years
    It must have been there.

    So,
    When did it fall?

    So,
    How did it fall?

    A gust of wind,
    Not an earthquake.

    A push from above,
    Not a shake from below.

    Now helped by another,
    Helped, not held.

    Not standing tall
    But standing.

    Countless trees around it,
    Rooted; straight and strong.

    Branches and leaves
    Melting on the floor.

    Covering the roots.
    Vast but down below.

    Vast but unseen.
    Vast and strong.

    When did mine fall?
    How did mine fall?

    A gust of wind.
    Unaimed, uncontrolled.

    A push from above,
    Not a shake from below.

    Not the first push
    And not the last.

    Outlines
    By Tia Meraki 

    I find myself peering into the bathroom mirror
    checking that I haven’t disappeared
    into shower mist, or the wall space around
    gone the way of the Indian cheetah and the Sumatran rhino in 2019
    of hugs and social gatherings in 2020
    knowing, or hoping, that the flesh and bones of us will embrace again
    knowing that the cheetahs and the rhinos are gone past hoping
    knowing that all else is uncertainty, weighted with potential
    alternate futures in layers of steam against glass
    whole ecosystems blurring around the edges
    fingertips tracing maps to hold onto my place in it all
    to hold onto the place of it all in me
    still here, still I, still us, still
    drinking in the rain and the sunlight
    and the darkness where we plant our seeds
    pausing to take stock, a physical inventory of self
    mole still nestled over eyebrow
    birthmark shadow under armpit
    windmill scar woven into smile
    strands of age-white merging into sun bleached waves
    a charcoal grey line etched across eyelids
    as if outlines might keep me here a little longer
    stop the ink of me bleeding into blank space
    stop me fading into smoke and dust and flames.

    General Sherman
    By Will Mortimore

    Before I die I’d like to see
    General Sherman, not the man, the tree
    Who lives in California where
    The trees compete with light and air,
    Few more so than the General, who
    Is forty times the height of you,
    And weighs more than a kiloton,
    But still, in counting, numbers one,
    Just like you and just like me,
    Just like an ant or bird or bee
    Or worm or beetle, shrub or twig,
    Tiny microbe or Guinea pig.

    We are all ones, not more or less,
    But, and here I must confess
    When picturing myself and he:
    Normal man and mighty tree,
    I cannot help but to create
    A hierarchy of the great
    And awesome works of nature that
    Imbue our cosmic habitat
    With diaphragm-contracting wonder,
    And surely all these things are under
    That woody, giant, massive freak
    Perched atop the pyramid peak,
    Who helps us lower levels see
    We aren’t so glorious as he.

    Not that we’re inconsequential,
    It’s just that we’re not wholly central,
    Which helps me, anyway, to know,
    I’m not the star of the whole show,
    And aches which feel, to me, acute,
    Are just a sapling, or a shoot.

    Before I die I’d like to see
    General Sherman, not the man, the tree.

    Rhubarb Fields
    By Joséphine Sourgnes

    Last week, life turned on a dime and everything fell apart
    Fell like a trapdoor or a guillotine
    One second I was there
    And the next, I rocketed away
    Getting smaller and smaller
    Waving to myself from the window
    Leaving me by the wayside
    My plans not just shattered but shredded
    Charred into a fine shower of ash blown back into my face
    There was nothing but blackness then
    A sunless gloom obscuring my inner and outer horizon
    I can speak now, or try to
    But I had no language then, no metaphor
    The whole world went dark and that was all there was

    At some point, a voice spoke
    As from across a long tunnel, or from the white mouth of a well
    A man asked how I was and I gave the usual answer
    He asked once, he asked twice,
    Like the questions were theatre knocks or fairy books words
    Repeat it and the spell is lifted, the play is over
    He asked a third time and I broke into sobs
    Going once, going twice, gone
    He listened to me cry and sniffle through the phone
    Ashamed but too tired to stop

    For hours, he was there, filling the silence
    When I couldn’t string a sentence together
    Busy as I was, nursing the burst seams of my hopes
    The gaping wound doing all the talking
    He said perhaps all wasn’t lost
    He couldn’t promise easy, or even safe
    But there might yet be a place for me somewhere
    In the country, between rhubarb fields and under telephone poles
    Like he knew I needed the details to root it in my mind
    To anchor myself back to the world
    A world where things grow and cables hum with messages
    Human voices reaching for each other

    Today I went for a jog and ran right through a rainbow
    A second before the sky darkened and the rain hit heavy as a fog
    Misting the road ahead
    I was soaked, my black running clothes stuck to my body
    Clinging like a diver’s suit
    Like the sleek, oily skin of a seal
    A creature made to sustain the cold of deep, dark blue waters
    Alone on the muddy path, I was nearly swimming home
    Through the downpour, through a disappointment as sour as grief
    My nostrils slowly filling with the scent of the rich, wet soil
    Dissipating the carrion smell that had been chocking me
    Returning life to the wasteland

    Soon, my rain-reddened limbs tingled numbly under the scalding shower
    My mind, miles away, floating with this image, this odd certainty
    Angels above grey fields,
    Strange watchful birds bending the telephone lines
    Their unaverted eyes bearing solemn witness
    Meaning not to break my fall but to soften it
    Their voices drowned in the thunder
    Chanting words of survival
    I thought of the kind man, of the rainbow arching into the storm
    I thought maybe, I could make it through
    I stepped out of the shower and tiptoed back to myself.

    Bloom Junior Poetry Competition Winner

    Help Me Moon

    Help me moon, listen close:
    People are starting to overdose
    On greed and hate and immoral things,
    The kind of sins the night-time brings.

    How do you do it? Keep the peace,
    When the sky hides all of evil’s caprice.
    I’ve tried to rule and punish their crimes,
    But sunburn only works sometimes.

    Help me moon, I need power;
    When was the last time you listened to a sunflower?
    No one listens, yet everyone bathes,
    In the golden glow of my angry face.

    Listen sun, listen close:
    You’re shouting in beams of light too verbose.
    The clouds are your words, and the sky is your page,
    Stop burning and yelling and taking centre stage.

    You asked how I do it – ignoring the sorrow,
    I take on my shift knowing there’s a tomorrow.
    Day shift, night shift – We work to get paid
    For the same damned cause of earning more days.

    We’re doing our bit; We keep them alive.
    Can’t you see? Without you they would die.
    A world without sun could never exist,
    You’ve got control; they lose theirs through fists.

    How did you get to be so wise?
    Why didn’t they make you the king of the skies?

    Because you are you, and I am me:
    You rule the land, I rule the sea.

    But how do you do it? Your craters held high,
    When everyone sleeps and ignores your sky.

    I govern the night, watch shadows unfold,
    Because a star once told me silver is rarer than gold.

    You’ve helped me moon, of this I am sure,
    You’ve cooled my temper and warmed my core.

    You deserve to feel strong; it’s how you keep me,
    Circling and circling without insanity.

    So you’ve helped me,

    You’ve helped me too,

    Thank you, sun,

    And thank you, moon.

     

    - By Safiya Tiotto-Smith

    Bloom Junior Poetry Competition: Highly Commended

    Flowers
    By Malilka John

    I’m so envious of flowers
    they’re beautiful
    shades of purple and yellow and pink and green
    they have a purpose
    to get ripped from their roots
    cut from their stems
    tied together
    and feel nothing

    the lavender on my window is pretty
    she wasn’t always
    she was wilting, dying
    but i gave her water
    and she bloomed
    beautiful shades of purple
    with small yellow centers
    branching out of her vase
    she was beautiful

    now she’s wilting again
    she has everything she needs
    water, sun, air
    but she’s dying

    one day i will smile in my mirror
    while happy music plays in the background
    light shining through the window
    onto my face
    glowing

    one day i will feel at home in my body
    loving the way it feels when i walk
    loving how wind feels through my hair
    confident, happy

    blooming

    Four Seasons In One Head
    By Kitra Oldham

    She sits and watches the world change.
    Constant rotation,
    As the seasons get rearranged,
    The deterioration of her planet and her nation,
    The summer now burning,
    The spring flowers permanent vacation,
    Winter below freezing as the planet is turning,
    Autumn leaves once vibrant,
    Now brown and dead.

    All these things trapped in her head,
    Some distant future she foretold,
    She tries to think about something else instead,
    But she fears what’s about to explode.

    'Treacle Beaded fingertips...'
    By Kizzy Rollings

    Treacle beaded fingertips lace
    honey puddle dreams
    finger stick of butter sunshine
    sprouting golden orbs as
    stormy whirlpools quake. Rupture
    sticky plum blood tears
    velvet sleeves and dew
    rubies bird limbed lacewing giant.