Hello dear reader and a very happy new year to you. I trust January finds you all fit and well and ready for another jaunt into the unknown. I’ve seen lots of NY posts over the last week or so, and most of them have been of an ‘I’m going to do this, this and this’ variety, and while I am definitely of a similar mind – determined to give myself a full overhaul this year – I should think you are as bored as I am of talking about diets, dry Januarys (as if this month needs to be any less fun), money saving and other types of puritanical posturing, so I won’t go on. My main resolution this year is to invest in myself. Because, lets face it, no other bugger is going to unless I bite the bullet.
The first manifestation of this resolution occurred the other day when I became so desperate for a bit of peace and frigging quiet that I actually booked myself into a local hotel for the night. Yes. I did that. Christmas has been hectic! I took a couple of Katherine Heigl DVDs (she is good in everything), a great book, my notebook and a lot of chocolate and I went and spent a beautiful evening doing exactly as I pleased, BY MYSELF.
I watched crap TV, read a bit, ate tons of fruit and nut, made some insightful notes about how I really should stop eating so much junk, and then went to sleep.
Or, I would have gone to sleep had it not been for the pillow which was like resting your head on a cotton-covered breeze block (I had forgotten that hotel pillows are always horrible), and the bathroom toilet which was one of those ones that constantly run all night long. A Stupid Idiot Maddening toilet, I believe they are called. Apart from that it was lovely.
In the morning I checked out and went over the road to the Towner Gallery, to see this exhibition. It’s not on for very much longer but if you have the chance I’d really recommend a visit. I had the pleasure of interviewing the founder of the Museum of British Folklore, Simon Costin, for Tantrum Magazine a year or so ago and he was one of the most interesting and inspiring people I’ve ever met. It sparked a fascination for British-born rituals and festivals, so I was really keen to see this show, which features photographs taken by Sir Benjamin Stone alongside the work of contemporary portrait photographers like Faye Claridge and film makers like Tom Chick. Think Wicker Man, only real, and you’re along the right lines, I guess. Anyway, I loved it, it really brought home how really very odd we are as a people, and I’ve since bought a load of books on the subject. I’m thinking of making some embroidery portraits based on the colours, patterns and characters from the exhibition. We’ll see.