Jeremy Dennis is Jeremy Day (cleanskies) wrote,
Jeremy Dennis is Jeremy Day
cleanskies

  • Mood:
  • Music:

grown-ups who wish to draw should make their own arrangements / a dirty weekend with Brighton

Not exactly the endurance test Nanowrimo promises to be, The big draw looks like it might be kind of interesting, especially the launch at the V&A. Too bad we'll be in Canada.

Typically, almost everything in Oxford is aimed at children, though some of the ideas are quite interesting:

MOMA is working on an education project in collaboration with the X-Change Gallery exhibition 'Taking A Line For A Walk', 17-28 Sept. Artists Hugh Pryor and Jeremy Wood use Global Positioning System (GPS) technology to make large scale pictorial journeys. During October they will be working with Yr 5 pupils at St Ebbe's school to scale-up drawings by walking them on the school playing field. There will be a display of the resulting art work at MOMA when the gallery re-opens on November 10th. You're invited to visit both exhibitions. Drawing activities for families every weekend at MOMA.

Trophy list from hen night in Brighton:

3 sea breezes (each)
5 hen nights (not including our own -- all less fun than ours with the possible exception of the one we ran into ouside the Pavilion, whose hen was wearing an electric blue wig, cartoon fishnets and a rubber micro-mini-skirt)
6 bottles of wine (collectively)
2 fireman's lifts (and near abductions -- following yelling "are you firemen?" at a group of likely-looking guys in the street)
4 very unhappy waiters (though it wasn't entirely our fault, poor, poor Lorenzo)
2 romantic evenings out utterly ruined (through proximity to noisy hen/stag dos)
1 wrecked relationship (Elle grabbed a blue haired guy to tell him my hair was often blue and after a trade of insults he fetched up dumping his girlfriend and chasing us into the club -- he disappeared later, hopefully to find her and apologise)
2 stag nights (one consisting entirely of estate agents + groom's Dad -- who kissed me, mind you he was getting on a bit, probably couldn't see what he was kissing)
6 cheap tickets for the club (£1 if dressed in school uniform!)
2 1/2 rounds of beer and alcopops (at Brighton prices! Woo!)
6 school ties (the rest weren't in uniform -- wimps!)
1 pair boxer shorts, removed voluntarily by estate agent stag (my sister can charm birds from trees, homework from kids, pants from men)
3 sets of plaits (the blonde ones seemed to have a very hypnotic effect on manly types)
3 incomprehensible conversations with Polish landlady of the Cinderella flophouse guesthouse
2 feathers from the standoffish lady with the electric blue feather boa (but nothing from Supergirl, boo hoo!)
27 kisses from strangers (each with a forfeit/condition/task attached)
2 pregnant party-goers (A. (4 months) stayed till the club closed, C. (7 months) left after the meal)
1 dancing fool on the floor -- floor covered with glass -- you can't break dance anyway -- silly, silly man
2 people brave enough to use the shower at the flophouse (yes, one of them was me)
2 disposable cameras full of evidence (though for the worst stuff I was too busy gaping to snap)
1 1/2 sleazy pick-ups at the end of the night (C. & R. both went off to the beach with boys, but C. dumped hers quite rapidly when promised food failed to materialise)
5 Different songs by Queen (mostly a good retro set, but Queen? not convinced it's danceable)
6 cooked breakfasts the following morning (everyone else having taken off already, except R. who was still missing with her pick-up! We finally got a txt back from her well after noon.)
and multitudinous little gold angels! All over everything!

All in all, a very strange night. I felt very much the tourist, is this how straight people feel when they go to gay clubs, I wonder? Yes, I *was* in uniform -- baggy black trousers, though, not a skirt. I couldn't find my old tie so I wore one of Damian's which was nicer anyway. Got in some good dancing, felt like applauding the DJ for the first time in a long time, a couple of dancing queens and a skinny indie kid to dance with, nice glasses. One of the dancing queens was even wearing a Man from UNCLE t-shirt.

Extrication from the hen party was slow and tricky, involving many excuses and considerable exaggeration of my hangover. Eventually released to the delights of shopping in Brighton (every time I go back it seems even better, or absence and my heart are doing their thing again) and the continued testing of my latest 110 camera. I found shoes for the wedding, a portable slide projector (called a Lucky Tiny!) and a lizard hook, among a few other things. Unfortunately I also found a tk maxx and once I'd been ruthlessly practical for a bit, I had no hands left for frivolous shopping, or anything much except catching a train and going home.

The train smelt of mildew.
Subscribe
  • Post a new comment

    Error

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.
  • 4 comments