Zen and the Art of Playing Solitaire

Lately, I've developed a nasty little habit of playing solitaire on my ipod, almost incessantly. Of course I understand completely that this simple form of entertainment keeps me from more lofty pursuits such as reading, writing or, say, playing a musical instrument. However, I've discovered some key principles coming out of this practice, the first one being, er, the importance of practice. By playing the game regularly and repeatedly, I've learned a great deal about how to improve my game. Not from reading about it, or because someone showed me, just from practicing. Something to keep in mind when engaged in doing more essential work. Secondly, I've learned not to regret anything. In the game's programme, you have the opportunity to 'restart' the game after losing, and I've found that playing the game again didn't change the outcome. In life, forget 'what if' and stick to what you are doing; don't bother with wanting to start over! Lastly, and perhaps harder to pinpoint the broader application, it is important to differentiate among the suits and colors; by blurring the lines in your mind, you miss the right moves and your progress in the game may be stalled. So look carefully and know where things fit in the world. Play on!

How long does an evening last?

I had a wonderful evening with my work colleagues at our Christmas party this past Friday. We floated in a barge on the Manchester Ship Canal, enjoyed a good meal, good company and a bit of drink and karaoke. It was festive and fun. I suppose I brought that good feeling with me to sleep because that night I dreamed I was with my work colleagues again and we were making honey, just by clapping our hands. In my dream I thought, if we could make honey just by clapping our hands, then indeed anything is possible! What a fantastic, uplifting thing to imagine. I remember having the same feeling on another occasion: I was in the car with my friend Roya, when I saw a bumper sticker on a van which said something to the effect of, "yes, even you can train to become a carpenter". At that moment it occurred to me that, yes, even I could be a carpenter if I so desired; anything is possible!

Change is Good

I was actually in the US during this historic presidential election, in of all places, Florida. Whatever your views, the prospect of having a new president, this new president, is opening our minds and hearts to the possibilities ahead. So many folks around the world have been cheering the US presidential outcome and its potential for positive change, change which can affect so many folks around the world... Let's hope for the best.

Art Schmart

Yesterday, Andrew and I went to Manchester to attend the Buy Art Fair. Can't remember where, but I had seen something about it on the internet, gave them my name and address, and won a couple of tickets for free entry over the weekend. My idea was to buy some art for our new house (oh yeah, we're buying a house! - more about that once we're in). The event was held at Urbis, a space I mentioned in an earlier post. When we got there, Andrew took to it like oil and water (a bit like with me watching sports analysis shows on TV), but we managed to see the whole show, get a nice cuppa and I actually bought a couple of wonderful small ink drawings by Moose Allain. While having our nice cuppa we initiated a discussion about what makes something art and hence valuable (is it the artist's time spent, creating something completely new, or just resting on one's laurels - though not addressing how one got those laurels), deadlocked, and then moved on to more pressing topics like 'what's for dinner?'.

Catching Up

There's some stuff I've been meaning to blog about but just didn't get to it, so I thought I'd tackle it here and now. A few weeks ago, we went to visit friends in Nottingham (hey Terri), and they took us to this really interesting "show" at the Galleries of Justice, about how the local Nottingham court and prison were used from the end of the 18th century up until the 1980s. What made the experience so memorable was the fact that we were lead through the exhibition by actors playing different roles such as the gaoler and an inmate. At one point the woman who played a mentally ill prisoner came out of her character to tell us some more current facts and it was fascinating to see her transformation - she had completely enveloped her character up until that moment. Good stuff.



Next up: A few months ago, Andrew and I went to see a fantastic show at The Octagon Theatre in Bolton called Once Upon a Time in Wigan - LIVE! The show was a re-make of an earlier production, this time accompanied by a live band. The story was about two couples who frequented the real-life, famous at the time, Wigan Casino, an all-night dance club that featured Northern Soul music. During the 1970s Northern Soul music was all the rage; it was and is essentially Motown or Detroit music from the US made popular and devotionally followed by kids from Northern England. But the trick here is that, for Northern Soul, the more obscure the song or the artist, the better. Wigan Casino was a place for the misfits and misunderstood of the country to come and meet, listen and dance all night to Northern Soul music. Now, there is a not so nostalgic element in that the Wigan Casino was shut down in 1981 because it had become a drug haven, but let's not dwell on that. Oh, the dancing! If you want to get a sense of what Northern Soul dance was like, and it's fantastic, check out the moves on the music video Mercy by Duffy.

Not taking sides or anything...

Nothing beats my beloved Leeds to Liverpool Canal, but this grand canal might come in as a close second.

What's Your Favorite Place?

I am drawn to Venice, Italy and have spent my most treasured times there with some of my most treasured people; last week I returned, this time with Andrew (my top treasure), for a long weekend. We discussed what makes it so special and romantic when, at first blush, it does look a bit neglected and unkempt. Well, countless people have written about this place, I'm sure quite eloquently; to me Venice is a delicate beauty, who transcends time and fashion, and remains just as you remember her.