Time passes!

Rite of Passage?

It happened on the Piccadilly Line on the London Underground.  I was on my way to Chelsea to view, finally, the paintings by my one of my chosen artists who are going to figure in the End of Module Assignment which takes the place of a final examination in my Art History course.

            The train was crowded and travelling from King’s Cross to South Kensington (to change to the Circle and District line for Sloane Square) is a fair old way and, as I had done more than my fair share of walking – and I have proof of that via my smartwatch – I was eagle eyed for any vacated seat.

            Some of the more popular stations along the route failed to get bums off seats and it was a way into my journey that, finally, I saw a seat.  I moved towards it, but not as quickly as a little old lady who positively jumped into the place and then looked steadfastly ahead ignoring my pathetically pleading expression!

            I therefore found myself in the body of the train rather than near an exit and I disconsolately hung from a pole and contemplated the long walk I would have when I got to my destination, an effort potentially unrefreshed by any sitting.

            Then, a young guy looked up at me and asked, “Would you like a seat?”  To which I replied, “Yes, thank you!”  And sat down.  The first time in my life that someone has given up a seat.  A stage in my life has obviously been reached.  And this before my offical state retirement age?  Only by months, but still!

            So that’s it.  I must be officially old!  And, yes, I did check to see whether the gesture on the part of the young man was one modifed by the fact that he might have been getting out at the next stop.  He wasn’t and he didn’t.  It was a true altruistic motivation as a concession to my deprepitude!

            Well, I will learn from this revelatory moment and in future I shall look fixedly at anyone under the age of 40 (male or female) with the expectation that even if they do not give up their seats for me, they will feel guilty about not so doing!

            “I grow old, I grow old, I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled!”  I am not sure that is the exact TS Eliot quotation, but I am now living the verse and I will soon be joing Prufrock and singing the love song!

            All of which is by way of saying that I feel a bit of a fraud.  I am not as old as either my grandparents or my parents were at my age – if you see what I mean.  I am a baby boomer (leading edge) and all of us have made a contract with fate and the NHS to live for ever and follow Jenny Joseph’s advice to live disgracefully and wear purple, or the metaphorical equivalent.

            Still, I was grateful for the seat and my thanks go out to the young man for showing that chivalry is not dead and to his parents for training him to believe it!

Study Day

I am typing this is the Smallest Hotel Room in the World Which Still Can Call Itself En Suite and I will be quite happy to leave it in a few minutes or so and make my way to the Camden Centre where we European OU Students will congregate in our Tutor Group for our final get together.  This time face to face rather than via the uneven experience of the Internet.

            I am not sure what form the day is going to take as each of us will have very different requirements for our final project.

            I suppose that it will be interesting to see what other people have decided to do and any advice or suggestions about how to bring the course together via our chosen artist will be interesting as well.  Its final usefulness will only be appreciated when the day is over and my panic levels have either lessened or increased to full on Chaos is Over the Hill-tra-la!

            Being an incorrigible optimist I fully expect to be enthused by being with fellow students who have chosen (and paid handsomly) to experience the delights of studenthood – and it this course at a fairly high academic level.

            Time to go and see!

Utterly changed

All change!

Going to have my swim is now fraught with visual complications as the leisure centre where I disport myself continues to undergo almost daily transformations.

            The car park, which was closed a month ago, has now opened – even if the new electronic gates are not yet functional.  No one said that it was going to be open, but when I arrived by bike the place was full of cars.  I always suspect that there is some form of underground network of the locals to which I have no access!  Anyway I made the best of things, by congratulating myself on my physical effort in getting to the place when I could have driven.  The real test, of course will be tomorrow when taking the bike now becomes a real choice and a real test of my new found enthusiasm for two-wheeled transport.  As long as it doesn’t rain I think that my resolve will hold!

            A new children’s playground, with slide, climbing-frame, ladders, walkways and all sorts of other brightly coloured structures has appeared overnight and by the time I got there workmen were busily putting down that spongy tarmac that is supposed to soak up kids’ falls.  All I care about is that I can get a place to have my tea as far away as is humanly possible from any concentration of neophyte humans while still remaining on the premises.

            The fences restricting access to the area under the remaining trees has been taken down, and I am glad to say that I was the first person to sit at any of the new tables and chairs in that area.

            Never let it be said that any experience was not exploited by my good self, and as soon as I had a few sips of my tea I was busily writing in my notebook.  The poem which came from those notes called, Over head, is to be found on my new poems blog at http://smrnewpoems.blogspot.com.es/2015/04/over-head.html - but do look at the other poems as well if you take the trouble to go there, and please click the ‘follow’ button if you wish to be informed about any new poems that I post.

            The leisure centre is certainly taking on a new appearance.  It is looking slicker and more professional.  I am duty bound to report that the spaces for cars seem sufficient for even the most overblown personal transport vehicle and the disabled spaces seem to be being respected, so my fears as outline in my poem Car Park Country http://smrnewpoems.blogspot.com.es/2015/04/car-park-country.html seem overstated. 

            You will have noticed the number of times I used the word ‘seem’ in the preceding sentence.  Bear in mind that the car park has been in use for less than 24 hours, so not everyone is aware that the place is now re-opened, with the result that there were a few spare places.  That will all change in the next couple of days.  And then there is the weekend. 

            Perhaps I am being overly cynical about my fellow citizens, but then again, perhaps I am not!

Academic action

As the last course essay in the Open University course that I am following does not appear to want to write itself, I am going to have to make a start if it is to be cleanly out of the way before I go to the UK at the end of the month.  I have decided that, at the very least, I am going to prepare the essay format ready for my words of artistic wisdom to be inscribed.

            This is not an easy task as the way in which you have to send work to the OU is supposed to follow a number of clearly stated rules.  That doesn’t mean to say that people follow them, as they are usually far more concerned about the details of the bibliography than any concerns about actual content.  The questions that people ask on the forums about ‘how to’ when dealing with, for example, a reference within a reference in an essay in a reference book cited by someone else in a further book, puts one in mind of the worst excesses of the final stages of the decline of the Byzantine Empire.  If it’s that complicated, I just find something else to say and bugger it!

            I intend to follow the advice given to the letter in this essay and see if it makes any difference to my final mark.  I find that I have a tendency to look for a slightly off-centre approach to the set questions that do not go down well with the marking powers that be.  So, I resolve to be a good little student and follow the academic line and do exactly what I am told to do.  Perhaps.

            At least when this essay is out of the way I will be able to turn all my attention to the end of module assessment and start amassing books to look at when I visit the British Library.

            I can’t help feeling that my time in the UK is going to be full to the brim with all the things that I have assumed will fit easily into about six days of usable presence in London.  And I expect to have a daily swim as well.

            I am reminded of the time leading up to my finals when I thought the time had come to write out a revision timetable.  I did so and was able to prove conclusively that I did not have enough time to revise before the examinations started.  Perhaps I should look at everything that I said that I would do and work out rough timings so that I can start jettisoning things before I get there rather than on an ad hoc basis on arrival!

            I also intend to enjoy myself and take full advantage of being in a city of culture where I fluently speak the language!

            When I think about it my BASIC London Itinerary necessitates visits to The National Gallery, The National Portrait Gallery, Tate Britain and lunch in the very wonderful restaurant, Tate Modern, The British Museum, The Royal Academy, The National Theatre, M&S, at least three bookshops including a sneer round Foyle’s, The Colly or the Royal Opera House or some sort of Opera somewhere, a decent Indian meal, a decent pint in a pub and . . . other galleries and some museums which are a crime to ignore when you are staying in the city.

            The fact that I have a Study DAY and a group visit to Tate Modern and that these two events take out two days AND that I have a planned visit to an accommodating interior designer who has invited me to his home to view the paintings that I need to see for my project and that takes out time.  That I am meeting Clarrie and Mary for lunch or dinner.  That Paul has said that he might come up to London.  And I begin to panic.  The swims would appear to be therapy rather than exercise!

            I’m going to love it!

Flesh Can Be Bright

Meanwhile back in the world of personal vanity publishing.  I now have a Catalan looking at the translation of the first three poems with a promise to give me an annotated response by Wednesday of next week.  I can then get the ideas to the translator and see what she makes of them.  And who knows when I am going to get the other poems to join the process!

            The translation into Spanish has not even started, though the person who I hope will do the translation is seeming more positive about it actually happening – and I am taking that crumb of comfort and making the most of it.

            The artwork is another problem.  Though I am quietly confident that everything is going to work out.  This may well be because I am delusional, but it is better to be like that and then just have to expend innate optimism when the eventual crash happens than be fatalistic all the time.  I tell myself.

Football therapy

My adopted team of Barça are doing quite well.  Apart from a little hiccup of a draw when they should have won in the league.  In the European Cup there was a resounding win of 3-1 against PSG and Barça can at least say that they scored all the goals in the game.  ‘Nuff said!

            Apart from the moment of delight when Cardiff City made it into the Premier League (I was there at the official celebrations with a VIP pass!) there has been little to warm the heart about the progress of the team.  I cannot pretend that it hasn’t been a delight to support a team which is regularly vaunted as one of the best in the world.

            And they win trophies.  They have silverware.  And lots of it.  That is delightful.  Though it does make the lack of success even more difficult to take.  Our eyes are firmly set on the final in Berlin, though it is obviously more important that Barça do well in the league and, at the moment they are clinging on to the top spot by the slimmest of margins.

            I never thought that the time would come that I would take anything more than the most cursory glance at the kick-ball game, but I have to say that I am now at the stage in my football education that not only can I recognize Barça players, but I even know some of their names!  Who would have thought!

            I was even out on the street with a flag when Barça won the European Cup!  How times have changed!

            Any year now I will finally get round to learning the words of the Barça anthem – though don’t hold your breath!

Food for belly and soul!

Out To Lunch – Again!

There is nothing better to end off a morning by going out to lunch.  We have now made this more of a way of life than a luxury – but I think that we are becoming better people because of such determination!

            Especially when we go to a place like Tast, which is a restaurant in the center-ish of town.  This is a relatively small place on a relatively obscure road (even if its name is C/ Major 16) which does not shout out that it is a place to go.  But go you should.  We have never had a bad meal there and certainly on the last few visits we have had a meal which we would have been happy to have had in a restaurant a few times the price that we paid.

            My meal comprised a cold vegetable soup called salmorejo which is served with crumbled hard-boiled egg and bits of Spanish ham.  This version came with dried fruit as well and was refreshingly delicious.

            The second course was a perfectly cooked fillet of salmon with a selection of al dente fried vegetables and my dessert was a mouthful selection of four of the normal postres that the restaurant served.  We accompanied the meal with a jug of Sangria and I ordered a second one for old time’s sake!

            The meal for two came to €36.20, and that included two coffees (well, a tea in my case) and that extra jug of Sangria.  Call it €40 and that means that the total cost was a tip and a bit under thirty quid!  Sing ho! for the hard old life!

Traitor!

Today, Wednesday is the day that I go to my Poetry Group in Barcelona, but a friend from The British School has told me about another group which meets in Sitges.  I have given my contact details and I am awaiting a contact from someone in that group.  This group meets on a different day and their concerns may well be different from the Barcelona group – but it will be interesting to find out what they offer.

            It terms of ‘getting there’ – it is a damn sight less stressful to go to Sitges than the centre of Barcelona and it will probably be cheaper too.  At present I park in a vastly expensive car park next to the Cathedral in the centre of Barcelona.  I am protected against the cost of the place by the fact that my car has a little gizmo which electronically passes me through barriers and automatically charges my bank account directly.  I neither see nor touch a ticket as I go into the car park and I have no idea about how much it has cost me as I leave.  Sometimes ignorance is best!

            One of the people from the Sitges group is going to contact me, so I await with some interest to see how this works out!

            I am not sure that I have the time or the space or the money to keep two groups going, so there may be a choice involved.  We shall see.

            This evening in the Barcelona group, I am going to distribute the first of the translations of my poems into Catalan and ask for comments to relay back to Hannah who has translated them.  I might add that this is with her permission, so it will be interesting to see the reactions and to take in the suggestions.

Flesh Can Be Bright

The master plan for this enterprise continues to worry me.  Things are moving, but not I think to my initial timetable.

            My publication date for the book is United Nations Day 2015, the 24^th October: time is rapidly running out and, at the moment, the five other collaborations that are necessary for my ideas to work are nowhere near complete, and one of them doesn’t exist!  Such things add to the gaiety of nations – or so I’m told!

            At the moment only Stage 1 of my idea looks certain to come to fruition.  Stage 2 is likely and Stage 3 is, shall we say, fluid!

            Such uncertainty is good fuel for creativity!

Time’s wingèd chariot

The buffer time that I amassed working my way through Book IV of our course in the history of art has now been dissipated in poetry writing and I find myself looking at the time left for my last essay and wondering if I have left enough to complete something which gives my marks a boost.

            I cannot pretend that the subject matter of this last essay is something which truly interests me and, as you can imagine, its relationship with what I regard as art is somewhat tenuous!  Still, it is all good for theoretical mumbo-jumbo and that should be something of a strong suit for me!

            I am in the comfortable position that I could ignore this essay completely and still pass this part of the course, but it is not the mere passing which concerns me, but the level of pass.  This course has been much more demanding that I previously imagined and it has stretched me, which, in some ways is a good thing, but it has also been something of a strain.

            This essay isn’t even the last putsch as there is the end of module mini-thesis after this essay is complete and, as I have not taken what my tutor has termed ‘exemplary’ artists as the basis of my work, I have made the task a lot more difficult.  But more interesting I think.

            Now, time to get down to the hard work of getting the essay written.  Or perhaps a little rest before I go off to Barcelona!

            Always choices!