Couchcast: November by Thomas Hood

Read by Tanya Farthing, Alex D’Attoma and Rob Quirk

Photos by T. Farthing, A.D’Attoma and R. Quirk

We, at Couch Theatre, are extremely proud and happy to have three wonderful voice over artists reciting an abridged version of ‘November’ by Thomas Hood for our Couchcasts.

Here is the poem in its entirety:

No sun – no moon!
No morn – no noon –
No dawn – no dusk – no proper time of day –
No sky – no earthly view –
No distance looking blue –
No road – no street – no ‘t’other side the way’ –
No end to any Row –
No indications where the Crescents go –
No top to any steeple –
No recognitions of familiar people –
No courtesies for showing ’em –
No knowing ’em –
No travelling at all – no locomotion,
No inkling of the way – no notion –
‘No go’ – by land or ocean –
No mail – no post –
No news from any foreign coast –
No Park – no Ring – no afternoon gentility –
No company – no nobility –
No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease,
No comfortable feel in any member –
No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees,
No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds, –

For further information on Alex D’Attoma please go to http://www.englischer-sprecher.de

For further information on Tanya Farthing and Rob Quirk, please contact us via email at couchtheatre@web.de


Kultur erhalten/keep culture alive

Heute zur Kultur-Mahnwache bei „Tisch und Stuhl“ in Ottensen. Eine wunderbare aber traurige Aktion von Saskia Junggeburth, bei der wir heute mitmachen durften. Tisch und Stuhl wird es leider bald nicht mehr geben… Hier konnten nicht nur Stühle gekauft sondern auch Kleinkunstveranstaltungen genossen werden. Mit den Lesungen des Couch Theaters waren wir in diesem atmosphärisch wunderschönen Raum oft zu Gast. Sogar unsere erste Lesung fand hier statt.Wir werden Tisch und Stuhl sehr vermissen.

Couchcast: Tanya Farthing reads ‘We are Seven’ by William Wordsworth

The inimitable Tanya Farthing, using her unique style of lighting (wait for it!), reads We Are Seven by William Wordsworth. Written in 1798, this poem tells of a young girl who insists that they are a family of seven children, even though two of them have already died.

“A simple child, dear brother Jim,
That lightly draws its breath,
And feels its life in every limb,
What should it know of death?

I met a little cottage girl:
She was eight years old, she said;
Her hair was thick with many a curl
That clustered round her head.

She had a rustic, woodland air,
And she was wildly clad:
Her eyes were fair, and very fair;
Her beauty made me glad.

“Sisters and brothers, little Maid,
How many may you be?”
“How many? Seven in all,” she said,
And wondering looked at me.

“And where are they? I pray you tell.”
She answered, “Seven are we;
And two of us at Conway dwell,
And two are gone to sea.

“Two of us in the church-yard lie,
My sister and my brother;
And, in the church-yard cottage, I
Dwell near them with my mother.”

“You say that two at Conway dwell,
And two are gone to sea,
Yet ye are seven! I pray you tell,
Sweet maid, how this may be.”

Then did the little maid reply,
“Seven boys and girls are we;
Two of us in the church-yard lie,
Beneath the church-yard tree.”

“You run about, my little maid,
Your limbs they are alive;
If two are in the churchyard laid,
Then ye are only five.”

“Their graves are green, they may be seen,”
The little maid replied,
“Twelve steps or more from my mother’s door,
And they are side by side.

“My stockings there I often knit,
My kerchief there I hem;
And there upon the ground I sit,
And sing a song to them.

“And often after sunset, Sir,
When it is light and fair,
I take my little porringer,
And eat my supper there.

“The first that died was sister Jane;
In bed she moaning lay,
Till God released her of her pain;
And then she went away.

“So in the churchyard she was laid;
And, when the grass was dry,
Together round her grave we played,
My brother John and I.

“And when the ground was white with snow,
And I could run and slide,
My brother John was forced to go,
And he lies by her side.”

“How many are you, then,” said I,
“If they two are in heaven?”
Quick was the little Maid’s reply,
“O Master! we are seven.”

“But they are dead; those two are dead!
Their spirits are in heaven!”
’Twas throwing words away; for still
The little Maid would have her will,
And said, “Nay, we are seven!”

Trump, meine amerikanische Familie und ich – tagesschau24 | programm.ARD.de


Off topic.

So, my old friend Jiffer Bourguignon, husband Ingo Zamperoni and Birgit Wärnke have made a documentary about America, Trump, the elections and their family.

It will be online as of tomorrow and on TV on 2nd November. I’ve seen clips of it and it really promises to be great viewing.

They’re also both on NDR Talkshow tonight (Friday) talking about it. Don’t miss it!!

Couchcast: Mathilde Berry lit La tombe dit à la Rose de Victor Hugo

Mathilde Berry

Notre premier Couchcast en français!

Mathilde Berry lit La Tombe Dit à la Rose de Victor Hugo – devant une des ses ouvres.

La tombe dit à la rose :
— Des pleurs dont l’aube t’arrose
Que fais-tu, fleur des amours ?
La rose dit à la tombe :
— Que fais-tu de ce qui tombe
Dans ton gouffre ouvert toujours ?

La rose dit: — Tombeau sombre,
De ces pleurs je fais dans l’ombre
Un parfum d’ambre et de miel.
La tombe dit: — Fleur plaintive,
De chaque âme qui m’arrive
Je fais un ange du ciel.

Mathilde also reads the English translation ‘The Grave and the Rose’ Mathilde is reading the poem in front of one of her own paintings.

The Grave and The Rose

The Grave said to the Rose,
“What of the dews of dawn,
Love’s flower, what end is theirs?”
“And what of spirits flown,
The souls whereon doth close
The tomb’s mouth unawares?”
The Rose said to the Grave.

The Rose said, “In the shade
From the dawn’s tears is made
A perfume faint and strange,
Amber and honey sweet.”
“And all the spirits fleet
Do suffer a sky-change,
More strangely than the dew,
To God’s own angels new,”
The Grave said to the Rose


Couchcast: ‘If’ by Rudyard Kipling read by Jason Couch

Written in 1910 for his little boy, Rudyard Kipling’s poem ‘If’ talks about overcoming difficulties in life and ultimately how to be a good human being.

If you can keep your head when all about you   
    Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,   
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
    But make allowance for their doubting too;   
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
    Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
    And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;   
    If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;   
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
    And treat those two impostors just the same;   
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
    Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
    And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
    And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
    And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
    To serve your turn long after they are gone,   
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
    Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,   
    Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
    If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
    With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,   
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,   
    And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!


Video by Alexander Rühl

Our Couchcasts have now been viewed approximately 13,000 times on social media since we started them in March 2020. A huge THANK YOU to all our very talented actors who contributed to them and THANK YOU for your continued support.

So, after a summer break we’re bringing them back on 1st October 2020. We look forward to offering you wonderful poetry and prose (and maybe even a song or two) to entertain you through the autumn and winter months. You can see them here or on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter or Youtube.com.

And if you have any suggestions for readings or you would like us to read one of your favourite poems /stories etc. please don’t hesitate to suggest something in the comments section or contact us via Email.

Thanks once again.
Stay safe!


Selected Photos From ‘To Be Or Not… erlesene Apokalypsen’ with Jesse Garon and Jason Couch

Our reading as part of the Respice Finem exhibition in Schloss Bothmer, Klütz, Mecklenburg-Vorpommern

Photos courtesy of Silke Paustian

Respice Finem photo © Künstlerbund Mecklenburg und Vorpommern e. V. im BBK


Aufgrund der aktuellen Wettersituation wurde die Lesung in den Ostflügel verlegt. Besucherzahl ist jetzt auf 60 Personen begrenzt. Bitte melden Sie sich vorher an unter info@kuenstlerbund-mv.org um einen Sitzplatz zu reservieren

Due to the current weather conditions, the reading will now take place in the East Wing of the castle. The number of audience members has been limited to 60. Please register beforehand at info@kuenstlerbund-mv.org in order to secure a seat.