Friday, July 30, 2010
T.S. Eliot was wrong, it's July that is the cruellest month. Everyone off on hols or finished school or university, and I'm sat in half-strength office trying to finish off things from the last few projects, and kickstart the next few. All our European colleagues take a month off (a month!), July in Northern Europe, August in Southern Europe, and yet we don't. But it's not work that's overwhelming me such as the things that Manchester and elsewhere puts on to keep us busy during the summer months. I can understand all the out-of-school activities but this week I've clearly not found time to go to either the 24/7 Festival of new theatre writing OR the Manchester Jazz Festival. Last night there was what sounded like a fascinating performance - half jazz, half soap opera - at the RNCM. Instead I was in a packed Atlas bar with 350 or so of Manchester's digital community for the ever-popular Manchester Digital barbecue, drinking mojitos and catching up with old friends and colleagues. Then there's art - with a show tonight opening at CUBE gallery following on from last week's launch at Cornerhouse - and the various talks and similar surrounding it. The Manchester weather defies allcomers of course, and we barbecued under the threat of rain - though sheltered - and the sight of jazz fans chin stroking and head nodding but wet and bedraggled in St. Anne's Square is one of Manchester's yearly traditions. I'm reading a book, David Mitchell's "Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet", wondering if I'll get round to seeing "Inception" at the cinema (or more importantly finding a small child to take me to "Toy Story 3") and contemplating this year's Booker long list. My creative "to do" list includes writing up the various poems I've been writing on the bus on the way to work (I'm thinking of a collection similar to Frank O'Hara called "bus poems"), recording some of my poems for my new website, and recording some music. At some point, I think I'd promised myself that I'd start househunting, but unless one's delivered through my letterbox by Royal Mail I'm not sure when I'll achieve it.
Posted by Adrian Slatcher at 11:59 AM