Wednesday, April 01, 2009

The Day So Far

Hot-off-the-ice, I'm sitting at the window musing on the day.
I was thinking about Caroline's paintings of people in the streets of West London, and how she is a documentary artist and should have an exhibition. The ordinariness of the area changes year by year and decade by decade, and Caroline has it there, quietly painting in the sunlight of her studio.
She's a true renaissance woman of the age, who embraces politics, art and life with equal vigour.

Gina and I had fun skating, both making slow progress. Gina's now got a producer for her film, a chap who used to produce Derek Jarman's films who seems exactly the right sort of producer. We had met outside a caff in Queensway, having a brief cup of coffee with Jean Marc who played drums on Saturday night for the Raincoats.
Inside the rink, a gaggle of young men turned up, whirling about like manic pigeons, a vortex of teenage volatility. A calm instructor appeared with stacks of bright green cones, dividing the rink into them and us with a knowing smile. She proceeded to teach them 'skating forwards' (we all watched and copied on the other side) and 'skating backwards' (we all watched and tried to copy on the other side: I failed. Maybe next time!).
It was exhilarating to hiss about on the ice for the morning. I learned a new thing but I'm not sure what it was; probably something that I will discover in its entirety the next time I go. You make slow progress in terms of skill, but the process of skating is never disappointing and feels like a human form of flying.
Bliss. Bless. Whatever!
On the way home, I sensed policing and trouble on the tube. Was that an exploding anarchist disguised as a lippy teenage girl with a brown paper Primark bag?
An unassuming man got on at East Finchley with a bright green ukelele and started strumming to himself, much to the consternation of Suburban Couple and their ordinariness monitor. He got off next stop without serenading them with anything disturbing.
"Marn the dorce', announced the driver, and the dorce closed with a squeal and a thud.

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