Wednesday, September 21, 2005
Had an unexpectedly lovely walk to work this morning. My usual route along the canal towpath was closed, due to repair work on the canal bank. I was so disappointed at missing out on my daily dose of birdsong and had to detour along the main road and round the back of Park Lane College - my old route, from before I discovered the joys of the canal. This way took me past a building that had been empty all last winter, when I last walked that way. I remember thinking at the time that it was a waste of good space and that could be put to good use by the Aspire people, but they were busy elsewhere in the city. Anyway, as I walked by this morning I noticed that it seemed to be occupied, and a young bloke with dreads emerged from the front door. I stopped and asked him if the building was now squatted - he told me that it was, and they were busy setting up a community space, including a library, and were open to any ideas of what to do, events to put on, whatever. We walked along chatting and discovered that we had a lot of friends in common - in fact he'd spent the summer working with the lovely Purple Penguin cafe, the travelling vegan cafe who always provided the best cakes at Northern Green Gathering. We parted with a hug when we arrived in the city centre - he headed off to college and I walked on through Millennium Square, pausing to have a look at some of the amazing photos in the Earth from the Air exhibition. This is a fascinating exhibition, full of awesome images coupled with vital information about the ecology of our planet, and facts about the destruction being wrought on it. If you are in or near Leeds its well worth a visit - a few visits actually - there's far too much to take in on one trip!
So what started off on a potentially negative note turned out to be really positive. I love the way the universe compensates us when things aren't quite as we would like them to be!
So what started off on a potentially negative note turned out to be really positive. I love the way the universe compensates us when things aren't quite as we would like them to be!
Saturday, September 17, 2005
The Electric Michelangelo by Sarah Hall
Intensely detailed, precisely written, thoroughly absorbing, this is the story of Cyril Parks' journey through life and the 20th century, from childhood and apprenticeship in Morecambe, follwing his career to Coney Island and back. I became so emotionally involved with the life of this tattoo artist, peppered with incidents of violence that took my breath away and brought tears to my eyes and a lump to my throat.
Hall philosophises on the nature, meaning and art of tattoing, examines the relationship we have with our bodies, and the way identities are expressed through the designs we display on ourselves.
This is a marvellous work, a novel that captivated me and stimulated my imagination. A joy to read, I was sad it had to end.
Intensely detailed, precisely written, thoroughly absorbing, this is the story of Cyril Parks' journey through life and the 20th century, from childhood and apprenticeship in Morecambe, follwing his career to Coney Island and back. I became so emotionally involved with the life of this tattoo artist, peppered with incidents of violence that took my breath away and brought tears to my eyes and a lump to my throat.
Hall philosophises on the nature, meaning and art of tattoing, examines the relationship we have with our bodies, and the way identities are expressed through the designs we display on ourselves.
This is a marvellous work, a novel that captivated me and stimulated my imagination. A joy to read, I was sad it had to end.
Wednesday, September 14, 2005
How spooky is this?
On Sunday, offspring and I went to Beckett Street cemetery in Leeds to try and find the grave of my great great great grandfather. A fellow family history researcher with a common ancestor had told me he was buried there in 1872, and a call to the Cemeteries department at the council gave me the grave number. Off we went, armed with pocket secateurs and a big plastic tub, with the intention of picking elderberries for wine while we were there.
The cemetery is the oldest public cemetery in England, dating back to 1845. Parts of it are very overgrown - a haven for wildlife - while other parts have been tidied up by volunteers. Some grave numbers are marked so we were able to find the rough area in which g-g-g-grandad should be - 'rough' being a very appropriate word! This section was thick with brambles, so my secateurs came in handy. We spent over an hour fighting through the undergrowth, and although we were sure we were in the right general area, we couldn't find the actual grave. Some markers were fallen, or covered in ivy.
Eventually we emerged onto a path close to the edge of the cemetery. I decided enough was enough for one day, and teenage offspring was showing distinct signs of boredom (he is a teenager so I was quite surprised he had agreed to come with me in the first place!). I shook the spiders out of my hair and resolved to have a look online when I got home to see if I could find a plan of the cemetery and confirm we were looking in the right area. Mum later suggested going back in the winter when the brambles have died back.
Anyway, alongside the path was a particularly fruity bramble patch. Having failed to find many elderberries I thought I'd take advantage of this and pick some more blackberries - no point going home empty handed. Within half an hour I had filled my tub with enough berries for another couple of gallons of wine, so we headed home, having salvaged something from the afternoon.
Back at home I got the wine started then went online and discovered that Leeds Central Library has a map of the cemetery. I went to look at it this lunchtime. Turns out that the patch where I picked my berries is the exact spot where the grave should be! I'll go back for another look in the winter, and in the spring I'll be able to toast my ancestor with wine grown from his very bones.
On Sunday, offspring and I went to Beckett Street cemetery in Leeds to try and find the grave of my great great great grandfather. A fellow family history researcher with a common ancestor had told me he was buried there in 1872, and a call to the Cemeteries department at the council gave me the grave number. Off we went, armed with pocket secateurs and a big plastic tub, with the intention of picking elderberries for wine while we were there.
The cemetery is the oldest public cemetery in England, dating back to 1845. Parts of it are very overgrown - a haven for wildlife - while other parts have been tidied up by volunteers. Some grave numbers are marked so we were able to find the rough area in which g-g-g-grandad should be - 'rough' being a very appropriate word! This section was thick with brambles, so my secateurs came in handy. We spent over an hour fighting through the undergrowth, and although we were sure we were in the right general area, we couldn't find the actual grave. Some markers were fallen, or covered in ivy.
Eventually we emerged onto a path close to the edge of the cemetery. I decided enough was enough for one day, and teenage offspring was showing distinct signs of boredom (he is a teenager so I was quite surprised he had agreed to come with me in the first place!). I shook the spiders out of my hair and resolved to have a look online when I got home to see if I could find a plan of the cemetery and confirm we were looking in the right area. Mum later suggested going back in the winter when the brambles have died back.
Anyway, alongside the path was a particularly fruity bramble patch. Having failed to find many elderberries I thought I'd take advantage of this and pick some more blackberries - no point going home empty handed. Within half an hour I had filled my tub with enough berries for another couple of gallons of wine, so we headed home, having salvaged something from the afternoon.
Back at home I got the wine started then went online and discovered that Leeds Central Library has a map of the cemetery. I went to look at it this lunchtime. Turns out that the patch where I picked my berries is the exact spot where the grave should be! I'll go back for another look in the winter, and in the spring I'll be able to toast my ancestor with wine grown from his very bones.
Thursday, September 08, 2005
Just got home from seeing my first ballet. Diane and I went to see Dracula at the West Yorkshire Playhouse. We were both blown away - it was fabulous. The dancers, the costumes, the sets, the music - totally amazing. This Northern Ballet Theatre performance was packed to the hilt - but we somehow found ourselves sitting next to a work colleague's family! Small world, innit?
Jimmy Orrante (photo not from this production) as Dracula is both sensual and menacing in his big black cloak, flitting across the stage, swooping on his victims. Keiko Amemori dances his lover Mina, and together they convey the passion and pain of their doomed attraction to each other. I particularly liked Patrick Howell who played Mina's husband Jonathan - so lithe, so graceful. In fact, there were more men than women to watch on the stage, something I certainly wouldn't want to complain about.
Ali Allen's sets were darkly gothic (what other kind of gothic is there?) and very atmospheric, while the music from Schnittke was just right to build the tension and tinge the blood with pathos.
All in all, a very satisfying evening.
Jimmy Orrante (photo not from this production) as Dracula is both sensual and menacing in his big black cloak, flitting across the stage, swooping on his victims. Keiko Amemori dances his lover Mina, and together they convey the passion and pain of their doomed attraction to each other. I particularly liked Patrick Howell who played Mina's husband Jonathan - so lithe, so graceful. In fact, there were more men than women to watch on the stage, something I certainly wouldn't want to complain about.
Ali Allen's sets were darkly gothic (what other kind of gothic is there?) and very atmospheric, while the music from Schnittke was just right to build the tension and tinge the blood with pathos.
All in all, a very satisfying evening.
Monday, September 05, 2005
Number9Dream by David Mitchell
David Mitchell is, in my opinion, a genius. This very modern rites-of-passage novel scoops you up and hurtles you along, stumbling and tripping over yourself, as you race to keep up with Miyake's near-picaresque journey of self-discovery. Like a dream that you can't quite shake, Mitchell feeds you chunks of story that squeeze around the edges of your consciousness, unnerving, but utterly compelling. Using flashback and sub-stories, the plot builds into an intensely audacious brew, blending Chaucerian fabulism with Japanese cyberculture, gods with gangsters, all wreathed in a pall of cigarette smoke.
I loved this book - it goes straight into my all-time top 10!
David Mitchell is, in my opinion, a genius. This very modern rites-of-passage novel scoops you up and hurtles you along, stumbling and tripping over yourself, as you race to keep up with Miyake's near-picaresque journey of self-discovery. Like a dream that you can't quite shake, Mitchell feeds you chunks of story that squeeze around the edges of your consciousness, unnerving, but utterly compelling. Using flashback and sub-stories, the plot builds into an intensely audacious brew, blending Chaucerian fabulism with Japanese cyberculture, gods with gangsters, all wreathed in a pall of cigarette smoke.
I loved this book - it goes straight into my all-time top 10!
Thursday, September 01, 2005
Feeling particularly envious of Diane who got splashed by Nick Cave at the weekend at a beachside tap in Brighton. But she is feeling equally envious of me because I got to see The Undertones headlining on Saturday night at Solfest.
So there's plenty to blog about, but I've been so tired recovering from a second consecutive festival weekend that I haven't quite got round to it. Plus a blackberry picking trip meant there was winemaking to start.
Solfest was three days of fluffiness in a field in west Cumbria. We got a lift there on Friday courtesy of Wolfie & Fran who had seen my ad on Freewheelers, and arrived in time to put our tents up in the rain. The weather did improve though - we had a sunny Saturday, but a very windy Sunday. Monday - when we had to pack up and go home - was beautiful. The site was lovely in the sunshine - views of the Solway to the north, mountains (small ones) to the south and east. But it was rather exposed - our tents stood up to the winds but the Peacecake Cafe marquee partially collapsed on Sunday evening!
There were about 5000 people there, I think. Several shops full of the usual hippy/festi tat. A few tea shops, a couple of cafes - another one or two cafes serving full meals would have been useful. Oh, and some decent cake. Although cake was available it wasn't as good as Mama G's or that in Creative Intentions at last weekends do. One of my favourite spaces was the Bedlam Boutique which featured a dressing-up box, wigs & tiaras & taches for sale, a cocktail bar, and the Disco du Fromage. Cheesey, as you can imagine, and lots of fun. They had giant seagulls too, and fairies on stilts wandering around the site. And the Chill Yurt was a lovely spot too, for late night relaxation, bit of dub, a mirror ball, a Transit van bench seat that tipped up if you were sat on one end and the person on the other end got up. Some friends of mine, Si & Sarah, were supposed to be running their Chill Space too, but it got blown away early in the week by gale force winds.
And the bands, plenty of good music. By the end of Sunday I could barely stand up due to excessive dancing over the course of the weekend. My poor little feet were so tired and sore :( Anyway, my highlights were Peatbog Faeries, Duke Special, Oojami, Baka Beyond, and of course The Undertones.
The festival was very well organised - site was kept clean, toilets cleaned each morning (ok as long as you don't rise early & desperate!!). And cheap at £35, though they get some funding from the local authorities. I'm sure I'll be going again, even though the journey home was a bit more troublesome than getting there had been. We couldn't find Wolfie & Fran, nor did we manage to track down another lift, despite rumours of a big red van heading back to Leeds. So we got a ride on the free shuttle bus to the local train station at Aspatria. The train to Carlisle was punctual - but we had to change trains in Carlisle. We thought there was a Sunday service, it being Bank Holiday Monday, this being England, where everything used to stop for tea. So we noted the time of the train, then headed to the pub for refreshment and nutrition. We got back to the station 2 and a half hours later in time to realise it wasn't a Sunday service and we had just missed the train - and would have to wait another 90 minutes for the next one! Of course we went back to the pub with the result that when we finally got on the train I fell asleep and snored all the way back to Leeds. It took 8 hours altogether to get home!!
So there's plenty to blog about, but I've been so tired recovering from a second consecutive festival weekend that I haven't quite got round to it. Plus a blackberry picking trip meant there was winemaking to start.
Solfest was three days of fluffiness in a field in west Cumbria. We got a lift there on Friday courtesy of Wolfie & Fran who had seen my ad on Freewheelers, and arrived in time to put our tents up in the rain. The weather did improve though - we had a sunny Saturday, but a very windy Sunday. Monday - when we had to pack up and go home - was beautiful. The site was lovely in the sunshine - views of the Solway to the north, mountains (small ones) to the south and east. But it was rather exposed - our tents stood up to the winds but the Peacecake Cafe marquee partially collapsed on Sunday evening!
There were about 5000 people there, I think. Several shops full of the usual hippy/festi tat. A few tea shops, a couple of cafes - another one or two cafes serving full meals would have been useful. Oh, and some decent cake. Although cake was available it wasn't as good as Mama G's or that in Creative Intentions at last weekends do. One of my favourite spaces was the Bedlam Boutique which featured a dressing-up box, wigs & tiaras & taches for sale, a cocktail bar, and the Disco du Fromage. Cheesey, as you can imagine, and lots of fun. They had giant seagulls too, and fairies on stilts wandering around the site. And the Chill Yurt was a lovely spot too, for late night relaxation, bit of dub, a mirror ball, a Transit van bench seat that tipped up if you were sat on one end and the person on the other end got up. Some friends of mine, Si & Sarah, were supposed to be running their Chill Space too, but it got blown away early in the week by gale force winds.
And the bands, plenty of good music. By the end of Sunday I could barely stand up due to excessive dancing over the course of the weekend. My poor little feet were so tired and sore :( Anyway, my highlights were Peatbog Faeries, Duke Special, Oojami, Baka Beyond, and of course The Undertones.
The festival was very well organised - site was kept clean, toilets cleaned each morning (ok as long as you don't rise early & desperate!!). And cheap at £35, though they get some funding from the local authorities. I'm sure I'll be going again, even though the journey home was a bit more troublesome than getting there had been. We couldn't find Wolfie & Fran, nor did we manage to track down another lift, despite rumours of a big red van heading back to Leeds. So we got a ride on the free shuttle bus to the local train station at Aspatria. The train to Carlisle was punctual - but we had to change trains in Carlisle. We thought there was a Sunday service, it being Bank Holiday Monday, this being England, where everything used to stop for tea. So we noted the time of the train, then headed to the pub for refreshment and nutrition. We got back to the station 2 and a half hours later in time to realise it wasn't a Sunday service and we had just missed the train - and would have to wait another 90 minutes for the next one! Of course we went back to the pub with the result that when we finally got on the train I fell asleep and snored all the way back to Leeds. It took 8 hours altogether to get home!!
