homeward bound...
Roubaix, by way of contrast to the horrors of Swindon, was rather nice, if you can describe a decaying industrial town as nice. In a typically French way, they have decided to approach regeneration through the Arts, there are little (and large) art spaces all over the town. We were in the dance theatre (Le Colisee), a former cinema, it was possessed by an amiable crew, and, two hour lunch breaks notwithstanding, everything was done efficiently and within the allocated time.
One of the other spaces in Roubaix is a former municipal swimming baths called La Piscine, it is now a wonderful and inventive exhibition space, slightly let down by the less exciting art collection on display.
At the back of the theatre was a tiny little park, presumably the formal gardens of the mayoral palace at one time. Nothing remarkable or unusual there, except that it has been colonised by feral chickens. These seem to be doing quite well, very glossy and fat, and it would appear that they have no predators. I should perhaps point out that the cockerels are extremely aggressive, and chase off anything that comes near, they also seem quite able to fly.
I'm going up the road today, hopefully we'll have an internet connection soon, we've got a phone number now, so that's a start.
Labels: feral chickens
dem balls, dem balls, dem green balls
Hot foot from a flying visit to Nottingham, the Arts correspondent tells me that the green balls of Warwick have now sprouted in Notts. It's gentrification gone mad I tell you.
http://lx999.blogspot.com/2006_11_01_archive.htmlmay be offline again for a bit, I'm off to Lille to do a British Council showcase, and once I'm back home I still don't think we'll have a phone line. Somehow I can't bring myself to blog in the tearoom of the Grassic Gibbon Centre*; the ambiance of stewed tea and the monotone narration from the exhibition are not conducive to my creative needs, oh, and the coffee is vile too.
*Community web access point.
least we forget
In these barbarous times there seems to be a bit of a mission to rehabilitate Margaret Thatcher; tea with the prime minister and occasional moments of gut-wrenching adulation. True, it is very sad to see an old and somewhat confused lady being wheeled out to attempt to prop up flagging political careers. As someone cleverer than me has said; I hope that when they bury her she'll have a bloody big tomb, the number of people who'll want to dance on her grave.
She was that most dangerous of things a conviction politician, she genuinely believed that what she was doing was right, and wasn't prepared to consider that there might ever have been an alternative view. She didn't like trains, so now we have the most useless and outmoded rail network in Europe, didn't like Unions, so we have Murdoch and miscellaneous nazis and pornographers telling us what to think, didn't like coal (or rather the power that the miners had), so now we're dependent on imported fuel. She decimated my industry because she couldn't see the point of it, unless it was opera, in which case you could use it to impress people, even if you don't like it yourself.
As a former food scientist, she was wholly responsible for permitting the relaxation of food standards which lead to BSE and the rise of Bernard Matthews. Finally, as they say, she took us to war, a war that was entirely unneccessary, and would probably never have happened if the government at the time hadn't withdrawn the singular naval presence from the South Atlantic. A lot of people died to give her another term in office.
So, when you're looking at the dubious collection of former estate agents and used car salesmen that are clamouring for your vote, offer up a little prayer to the deity of your choice that the mollusc in a suit doesn't have any real convictions, it's safer that way.
by way of light relief, try this:
http://www.fandmpublications.co.uk/pages/maggiequote.htmnot quite as good as the Julie Burchill random recycler, but with a little help from the world, it could be.
