I’m performing tonight with the Djembabes for International Women’s Day. We’ve also been invited to do a performance for the royal wedding. I’m not terribly interested in anything the monarchy gets up to and I’d LIKE to think that they don’t want me to be, but drumming is fabulous & it could prove very entertaining, especially if we dress up. And, after last night’s practice, I really think that djembes + The Proclaimers would = sheer blinding brilliance. With a whole call & response thingie. For serious.
I’ve got photographs from Brownsea Island, where we performed at the weekend. I have yet to upload them all but will publish an account of my adventures soon. There were squirrels & face paint & blasphemy.
I MAY be modelling as Andromeda, based on this painting. (I want to & I have volunteered myself, so hopefully it will go ahead.)
The event is a family one, so I’d be draped in some sort of artistic drapery (or so stands the current plan). I foresee cunning use of safety pins. Apart from that I think I just have to pose in front of the painting for a few hours. I can do that. I AM STRONG.
Anyway, onto the stuff I dug up from the internets.
Rugs made out of recycled teddy bears.
The cast of Band Of Brothers plan to jump out of a moving plane to raise money for a memorial in Normandy. I think they’re a bunch of crazy fucking actors and they have my heartfelt admiration & support. I would PROBABLY even join in.
Isabel Stewart Gardner’s travel albums.
The painting of the Forth Rail Bridge, c. 1950.
Hrair Sarkissian will be discussing his work at the Tate Modern on 28 March.
Tom Waits teams up with David Lynch Foundation.
Yes, I am still grieving for Nick Courtney.
I want to see this — although I never was sure about the title. I know I’m late: I always am: I don’t have a TV so there. My main reason for wanting to see it is that it’s a David Simon thing and he is shiny, but I may also be motivated by slight Band Of Brothers withdrawal pangs, having watched that over Christmas. (Really, ALWAYS late.) And it’s a miniseries! There aren’t enough miniseries in the world and they seem to be getting shorter here in the UK; the last couple I’ve seen were both only four episodes long. Shocking!
I think Band Of Brothers withdrawal pangs might have something to do with it, unfortunately. In January I found myself channelling various characters as I walked about town, and last time I watched the opening of Firefly I remarked to Bunso, “This looks rather like Band Of Brothers in space.” Terrible. (But if anyone wants to write some sort of Band Of Brothers space pirate/cowboy alternate universe fanfiction, they have my blessing.) And then at the Art House there was a sign over one of the sinks saying, Sorry, Sink not in use. My reaction? “What’s wrong with Col. Sink and what’s he got to do with the . . . ah.” (In my paltry defence, if the writer of the sign had not capitalised the word sink I would have been fine.) Moral of the situation: never, ever watch Band Of Brothers. It will swallow your brain. I’m praying I’ll be better soon.