Shakespeare's Globe, Merry Wives

The days at the Globe are the best days. Simon is often waiting, right at the front of the groundlings queue, sometimes wearing his special hat. And Lorna, my best Shakespeare buddy. I met her at the Merchant of Venice and we rub along just fine. This time we also found the gentleman from Chicago, who seemed a mild enough gentleman librarian, until the second time Trump was mentioned, and the effing this and effing that started, and then there was no stopping him, with the windmilling arms and the yelling and the I HOPE HE DIES. Honestly, waiting in the groundlings queue is the best supporting act to the main stage. I highly recommend it, and maybe see you there.

It's Madness

 

Yes! Over to Colchester Castle for the ska and Madness! 

 Last year, I dunno, maybe October, I say to Mr R, what live music would you go to? And he answers Madness. 

And here we are, birthday present, some eight months after the event, where I find the same weekend I have double-booked, made a mess of things, and brought about all sorts of blundering mayhem, but at least we definitely can call this Madness.

Here I'll be

 

My most favourite place on earth. Grimes Graves, Norfolk. I've told everyone: scatter me here. (Except for the left leg. That can go in the pit at The Globe.) There is no more peaceful place on earth (exclude the pesky tourists) where I can watch the sky and the land and how the skylarks rise and fall, fall and rise, for all eternity.

Shop window, Central Milton Keynes

No, last year's presence in Milton Keynes Gallery was not enough to satisfy my search for artistic glory. This year I muscle in on the shop front of the MK Literary Festival et Arts Central Toot-Out.

 Howabout that! 

Well, here I am. One window only is photographed. I fixed two books in the other window as well, but I made such an unholy cak of photographing that set-up, to exhibit the result would be to die of shame. I am, after all, known as An Artist! 

 

One photo will suffice. The whole endeavour took fricking days, I couldn't get the books on the wall, and Missis J quite properly took over all artistic management of the entire proceedings so told me what to do (I got it mixed up anyway).

I need to reflect upon the origins of this enterprise. I went along to the original meeting to give the organiser a hard time over the recycling. After that was over (I am sure he hates me), I had no clue what anyone was talking about when they started talking about the project. I tried to join the whatsapp group, unaware that when you join a whatsapp group, you don't get all the messages that went before. How do people know these things? 

Anyway, I grabbed the windows because I couldn't get the books nailed to the walls and I couldn't lift the plinths. I had four days of what I am definitely calling an exhibition before I was removed to make way for a picture of moths.

Do unto me what you will, world. I am known, myself, me, for whatit'sworth, as An Artist in a Shop Window! 

Damson Harvest

 

A sumptuous fall this year. I leave these purple plum-like beauties outside in boxes for people to collect as they pass. One neighbour leaves me a thank you note, adding that damsons make excellent flavoured gin! I couldn't find the gin sample bottle. Just the note.