Wednesday, 31 August 2011

The Museum of Broken Relationships

I visited the Museum of Broken Relationships last week, an exhibition of items that are left over at the end of a failed relationship and eventually given to the museum with a short description as to why the owner had held on to it and why now they were ready to donate it.

It makes for a strange collection of assorted inanimate objects that have been given a meaning and value beyond their purpose. At times sad or angry, amusing or hopeful it's overall poignantly nostaglic and well worth the visit.

It has found a temporary home scattered around various locations in Seven Dials and closes this weekend.

Tuesday, 23 August 2011

Leakey's Bookshop

If there was only one reason to visit Inverness, Leakey's would be it.

Monday, 22 August 2011

What More Suitable Present for Your Friends at Home?

I seem to have accidently started a collection of old Athens travel guides. This latest one is probably my favourite.

Sunday, 21 August 2011

Foxy Floating Cinema

On Friday evening we went to the Floating Cinema at Three Mills to watch The Fantastic Mr Fox. Luckily the weather held out and we had a really lovely evening, the highlight of which was seeing the Bean, Boggis, Bunce and Mr Fox maquettes.

Wednesday, 17 August 2011

Book Splurge

Like millions of other people I love to sink into a good book. I haven’t always loved it; in fact I obstinately refused to learn to read until I was six. My mum would despair at me, my teachers would try bribing me but frankly, I just couldn’t be bothered to learn what all the little letters joined together sounded like aloud.

I was more interested in creating my own version based on the pictures. Then one day I just picked it up and never stopped. I’d slink away up to my room and devour book upon book. I didn’t read for escapism. I read to understand the world around me; I also read to hear how things that I had never seen before were described and then I would then attempt to draw them. I was obsessed with descriptions. The real type of description such a Milton uses where every word adds further depth to his vast picture of poetry.

I never read anything written before 1930. I refused to. I found it all too grey.

Then I went to University and my reading habits changed entirely, quite suddenly modernism meant the whole world to me and I craved that grey, honest writing. I stopped caring for description and focussed on dialogue, I started reading drama rather than novels and instead of painting poetry I looked for people to do it for me - you can always match up a Picasso to one poem or other. I fell into philosophy and art and somewhere along the line forgot about novels. In an odd kind of way reading English had the opposite effect to that which I thought it would, instead of opening me up to masses of new text it made me extremely picky about what I liked and to an extent made me hate novels.

Recently I’ve been craving books again, I’m trying to read wider than I have in the past and I’ve realised there are literally hundreds of classics I’ve still not read. Not to mention the hundreds I have at home that I’ve still not read.

All this is a really long winded way of saying that I went on a huge book buying splurge recently and now have a dozen new ones to get excited about. I just want to read them all. Right. Now.

(The Gunter Grass one isn't strictly speaking new but I had lost it and have only just found it again)

Monday, 15 August 2011

Sunday, 7 August 2011

Gin, Pool and Rainbows

A glass of gin and a game of pool and the brightest rainbow I've ever seen at the Earl Ferrers