30174-31 MORE than 200 people gathered at the Lawn to greet the dawn and open the 11th Swindon Festival of Literature.

Those who braved the early Saturday morning chill were treated to music, song, poetry, circus skills and welcome hot drinks and snacks.

Called the Dawn Chorus, the 5.30am opening celebration has become a festival tradition.

This year's happen-ed amid the other dawn chorus, provided by the birds of the Lawn.

Lanterns guided visitors along the pathways to the venue, which was the promontory in the Lawn which overlooks much of the rest of the town.

Jacob Holland, 16-year-old son of festival director Matt Holland, heralded the celebration by blowing a note on a metal watering can, managing to produce a sound like that of a ceremonial ram's horn trumpet.

Piper Danny Sturgeon then played a rousing air, and Jacob's twin sister, Anna, drew gasps of admiration with a display of swirling blazing torches.

The Sun Arise Singers provided a soothing choral accompan-iment.

Later, the singers visited local hospitals, homes and hostels to bring a little festival magic to people who were unable to attend the Dawn Chorus.

Matt Holland said: "This time yesterday, when we came to do a recce of the site, it was pouring with rain.

"But here we are again, and I think there are more people here today than there were last year.

"It's wonderful. We always seem to find a way."

The master of ceremonies was local performance poet Marcus Moore who introduced the acts, read some verse and even kept the audience warm by encouraging them to jump up and down.

Other acts included clown Fraser Hooper and Jacob Holland in his other persona of Jake the Juggler.

Electricity for the microphone was provided by Rinky Dink, a colourful bicycle-driven mobile light show billed as one of the most environmentally friendly on earth, as every watt and volt is generated by pedalling.

Mr Holland said that he was looking forward to what promised to be the best festival yet.

FESTIVAL REVIEWS

A GENTEEL Oxford graduate at lunchtime and a rebellious Rastafarian at night no I'm not describing my wish list of dinner dates but the first day of the 11th Swindon festival of literature.

And whether through coincidence or design, the two authors Tim Heald and Benjamin Zephaniah both touched on the tricky issue of British identity in radically different ways.

Heald found a reassuring sense of community in cricket clubs across the country when researching his book, Village Cricket. Describing the sport as something "quintessentially English", he feels the spirit of grass roots cricket has remained unchanged for hundreds of years.

His picture of villagers playing on the green in all weathers alludes to a traditional view of both the pastime and what Englishness is today.

But thankfully Zephaniah jolted me out of this cosy reverie and brought me back to the reality of multi-cultural Britain.

"I really hate cricket," he told me before his performance at a packed arts centre on Saturday. Even though he couldn't stand the game, he was made captain of the cricket team because his headmaster believed black boys are born cricketers. Luckily, it took one bowl to get him out; the ball hit his right hand and broke a finger, meaning he has never played the sport since.

It is this type of pigeonholing Zephaniah addresses in his performance poetry, which although fiercely political is infused with his wicked sense of humour.

"I want to reach and touch you all individually but that's illegal," he said with a broad grin during a performance which over ran by half an hour.

And touches you he does, in direct, simple but eloquent verses delivered against a reggae rhythm, he criticises racism and celebrates the diversity of Britain, where one day he hopes 'curry will blend with Shepherds Pie'.

Bhavani Vadde