Saturday, 24 June 2017

A crazier, sadder week you could hardly describe

I think the stars must be in an alien alignment - or I would if I was medieval, or of a superstitious nature. At a personal level it's been chaotic. I have been up and down to Kent trucking sculpture, I've been to/through London twice, given a talk to the James Street Literary Salon, done my last Reading Round in Cumbria and a poetry reading in Yorkshire. All against a background of terrorist attacks, the horrendous fire at Grenfell Tower, the Brexit shambles, Trump idiocy, massacres in Syria and Iraq (mysteriously ignored by mainstream media obsessed by Theresa May's facial expressions and the Queen's hat), a cholera epidemic in Yemen (ditto) and the ominous rumblings of a middle eastern showdown between Qatar (where I used to live) and its opponents.  Now it's Saturday and I'm trying to remember where I left what remains of my mind.

Shoreham sculpture trail was one of the high points.  Some wonderful sculptures (some of them Neil's) in a water meadow belonging to one of the houses, with spectacular roses scrambling through trees.  There was a river, a pond and a boat house.  When you have a lot of money, you can afford tranquility.  With Grenfell Tower on the news as an ever present monument to inequality, it was impossible to ignore the wealth and privilege we were surrounded by.



One of the best things was being able to see my grandchildren.


This was not a dinner gong but a magical crescent moon sculpture, by Marigold Hodginson, which can be rocked to and fro.

The down side was having to spend a sweltering day at 33 degrees, driving a white van from Kent to the Lake District via a jam-packed M25!

I took a train down to London again the following day and it was even hotter.  Although officially only 34.5 C max, the sun beating off the pavements and buildings created a sauna - one street thermometer I saw read 40 degrees.  London felt as though it was simmering.  The air crackled. There were armed police everywhere. I'm very glad I don't live in the capital.  Sadly, the Moomin experience I had tickets to visit was cancelled because of the heat.  I've loved Tove Janssen's books since I was a child. They are very philosophical - layers of meaning that children don't necessarily pick up.  But adults do.  The cancellation made me very sad.  If this is climate change - it can only get hotter and more difficult. In Comet in Moominland, the comet scorches the earth as it flies past and all the animals have to take cover underground. That's exactly how London felt.



 At the James St. Salon we all sweated unapologetically.  I was giving a talk on switching from conventional to Indie publishing and there were a lot of interested authors - all well-published but now struggling with their current publishers and dissatisfied with the system.  There is very little transparency in main-stream publishing;  you get paid once very 6 months, no-one tells you how many books have been printed/are out on review/in bookshops and publisher's accounts sheets need an accountant to decipher them. As an Indie author you get paid every month and you have a dashboard that shows exactly where every book has gone.   I recommended the Alliance of Independent Authors' website for help and advice.

The Hokusai exhibition at the British Museum was an absolute delight and well worth queuing through the new security system to get into.  They've erected a tent in the courtyard and you have to queue behind crash barriers to be screened.  The exhibition itself was very unexpected.  As well as the beautiful indigo paintings of the Great Wave and the views of Mount Fuji there are notebooks, personal material, and a lot of other paintings and prints that show just how versatile he was and also what a fantastic sense of humour he must have had. This is his painting of a summer thunderstorm, complete with bare bottoms as robes are blown aloft by the wind.


And this is himself as an old man.  He admitted that he had large ears.  Hokusai believed that as an artist and master craftsman he got better with every decade that he aged.  'I did nothing worth looking at until I was 70,' he insisted.  Some comfort there then!



After hot, crowded, jittery London, the Settle Sessions couldn't have been more of a contrast.  Settle is a beautiful old town in the Yorkshire dales, next to Giggleswick, home to Alan Bennett.  The Folly, where the poetry readings are held, is a Grade 1 listed building gradually being restored.  Alan Bennett has been involved in the fund raising.  It was a fabulous venue and very enjoyable poetry from my 'partner in rhyme' Ron Scowcroft, published by Wayleaves Press.




Now looking forward to a cooler, quieter week at home. Please. Oh, and could we have some more cheerful news just for a change?


1 comment:

  1. The sculptures look wonderful - what a setting! Have you seen the Hokusai documentary? We saw it at our local Art House cinema - excellent.
    Great post. Thank you!

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