Pride

Met a group of friends last night for talk, Stella Artois and tea. I think it’s a point of fascination for some that I can comfortably drink (not sip!) tea in an evening pub environment. They’re a good group – mostly chaps (the word ‘men’ seems much too butch for my liking) and as a collective they/we create quite a dynamic mix. Good for one another. Of those of them who don’t know me so well (in my view that is), it’s interesting to hear occasional comments that give away impressions that have been formed to date. One chap clearly thinks I know a lot more about a lot of things than I really do. In response to this, and through gritted teeth, I have to proclaim my ignorance – usually of stuff related to aspects of various ‘arts scenes’ (a foul expression). Particularly entertaining is SwearyCynicMan. He has a great guffaw of a laugh, the build of a brick shithouse, and the acid tongue of… of the great acid-tongued sea lizard of Easter Island. I’m toying with asking a few of the cohort to join me in a ‘community project’. Some of them have creative skills – film-making, writing, visual arts – that could be put to good use. However, the 'dilemma' that I’m faced with is summed up as: Do I

a) aim for something that will work towards ‘developing or integrating art-forms’ – art-centred, bit poncy, but may carry clout with ‘lovey’ funders, or,
b) aim for something that is altogether more participative – people-centred, that may carry clout with funders more interested in public participation – which, in my view, they should be.

Either option would yield a public exhibition or performance.

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Back on planet earth, got important meetings that are PhD-related later today and tomorrow. Also got a finances-related meeting tomorrow that could prove to be tricky. I sense an emergency Wagon Wheel, earl grey, and chicken and chips kind of an evening coming on.

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Was glad to learn that sister Wexford’s football team jaunt to Spain proved to be successful. The only blip being that several of her team’s tournament rivals got arrested for being generally tanked-up raucous Brits abroad – play national anthem. ‘Pride’ is not the word.

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I love being a turtle. What?