Headed down on Friday morning (7am pick up...). Meet up with everyone at the train station. I am the only one not to bring alcohol...and get called a poof etc for my troubles. I see I am in for a fun weekend.
Friday night is Frank Butcher night, we all get togged up in Butcher-esque gear
and "head oot for the toon man". It's surprising, how much fun we get, we were all worried about dressing as a cockney in Newcastle...this place seems pretty friendly!I manage to keep to a minimum of drink (and not get sucked into the booze vortex of round buying, with some seriously heavy drinkers!) It all works out to be a good night, from one pub to the next, all the way to "smokin' joe's" on the riverside...a cowboy/girl themed pub, where nice ladies dance on the bar, far all to see, but not touch. It's a great opportunity to watch how men can easily be distracted, and pick pocketed... he he.
Being happily married, I just enjoyed the ambiance...obviously!Being fresh as a partially stood on daisy, I got up at 8am, and for the first time ever on any stagger, I had breakfast. I wished I'd stayed in bed. Grease with some fat, a great way to start the day. We (Mur, Sandy and I) head to the Baltic to catch the latest exhibitions. Brian Eno, Subodh Gupta, Vik Muniz and Joesph Havel.
I'll have to write a wee report and link it later. Needless to say, I thought all the shows were impressive in their own ways. Eno's work was impressive for it's scale (size and duration) but lite on the old conceptual hooks. Perhaps I should send him an email and discuss my live feed with him?
Anyway, back to the stagger. Again, I'm a poof for going to see art and not drinking. That's fine, I am a poof (with a liver that's not going to pack in, in 5 years time). I did actually have a brilliant conversation with Dennis about modern art, he was easily converted to a more "thoughtful" stance, when presented with some discussion about "the value of object / place etc". I gave the best minimal account of the formation of "modern art" (Duchamp onwards). And sited an imaginary work of "sticks piled up against the wall" to talk about what it IS and what it REPRESENTS and what the concept behind such a work could be conveying. I'd basically ended, just because you don't understand it, it doesn't make it automatically shit. And Dennis and I vowed to continue the discussion....more on that, I'd love to talk all night about art with him. He's a great guy.
Gabi sends me a photo of her and Poppy, and this cheers me up no end.
Saturday night "the busy night". boy oh boy, if ever there was a night to not get dressed up in bad Hawaiian shirts, silly hats and ties, with a fake ginger painted on beard, this was the night. So, once in my bad Hawaiian shirt, silly hat and tie, with a fake ginger beard painted on, I join the rest of the guys, and we have a brilliant night on the town, women flee from the sight of us (much to Gabi's happiness... not that I'd do anything if a nice lady propositioned me, of course!). We just have a brilliant night dancing, drinking and laughing.
We're back at the delightful "Henson hotel"(1 brown star) at 5 am. We need to be up and out at 11am...not good. Needless to say, the two large meals I had yesterday help me stay human for the whole day.
I have to say, it's been a brilliant weekend, despite the worry of my prowess int he drinking department, in the midst of such heavyweights. I guess it's my natural ability to dance like a drunken ass and have fun without having to down 15 pints that helped me survive.
listening to : people shouting : my own frazzled vocal chords : bad impressions of the Geordie accent (etc)
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