I go to the cinema most weeks because, with my job, I can go for free. I feel comfortable in cinemas in a way that I don’t in theatres. In theatres I’m not sure how fancy I should dress, or whether I should take snacks, it’s usually more expensive, and I don’t know anything about theatre either so I wouldn’t know which productions to go and see even if I did know they were on (which I don’t).
So, to go and see A Streetcar Named Desire at the Young Vic itself just wasn’t on my radar.
The only reason I can think of to ever go to Solihull is because I have family there. I visited this weekend for exactly that reason.
I’m spoilt that the rest of my family live in lovely places (Cumbria) and exciting places (Scottish Highlands) and places far away that I wouldn’t normally go to (Detroit). For me, Solihull doesn’t exactly tick any of those boxes.
Beauty is in the eye of the besnooooooozzzzzze - I am trying, ok?
We went to a couple of different parks, this is Elmdon Park, very autumnal…
… and swampy. I felt like a monster could loom out at any minute!
Maybe it’s because I’m busy being a Family Member when I’m there, but I’ve never found anything to especially like about the town itself. What do people do there? Maybe I am just too spoilt and snobby about my physical, geographical locations, and my attention span too ravaged by caffeine and bad habits and the internet that I need a source of entertainment, information, or distraction that I could never really appreciate a place this middle of the road.
Either way, here is a statue of a man punching a horse??
Everywhere has blackberries though. Hopefully the mould will die in the freezer…
This is Malvern Park, just outside of the centre of town. Stopping to get coffee, we had a choice of Pret, Nero, or Starbucks.
We chose Nero, because my sister has a loyalty card for it. It’s fine, but… so blah. Sitting on the pleather sofa, I could have been anywhere up and down the country. Which isn’t terrible. But it is boring.
Maybe I shouldn’t look at every town as a ~*destination~** for me to visit, maybe not everywhere can have ~*something to offer*~. That makes me feel a bit sad. That’s the general decay of the high street, I suppose.
It’s a pretty time of year, at least!
Just the tip. We do look at the same sun.
Four of us ate this whole (homemade, obvs) cheesecake over the course of two days. It was the best bit.
Because I don’t go to these kinds of towns often, I forget they exist. I wonder if the people that live in them ever visit London, or the beach, or the mountains; and I feel grateful that I can - even though if I lived up there I’d be able to afford to get out more often. But at what actual cost?
Nevertheless, it’s the relatives that’ll keep me going back, so if you have any Solihull tips that can be reached on public transport, let me know?
Officially, it was the last weekend of the summer - so of course I wanted to go to the beach. We took the scenic route, walking through Sheringham Park.
We took the long way round through the woods, which felt very autumnal already. Everything was wet, and leaves were raining down every time the wind blew.
We had a picnic on the top of a gazebo, at canopy-height.
Then the woods thinned out, and we waiting on a footbridge for a steam train.
I lovelovelove being in the countryside.
Then we went into Sheringham. As soon as the sun dipped, it got pretty chilly - dare I say it, too cold for an ice cream?
(It was, I made the right decision!)
The tide was right up against the rocks, so no paddling, and way too cold for swimming.
I kind of hate bunting.
Goodbye for now, summer! I love autumn though, it’s my favourite, so fingers crossed for crisp walks, steaming coffee, and more bracing trips to the coast soon!
Tell me about it…
My dad gets me Tate Membership card for my birthday and we go when he’s in town, and I try and catch the different exhibitions at the Modern and Britain. La-dee-dah!
As with most artists that get shown at the Tate Modern, I hadn’t heard of them before going, and Malevich was no exception. I know pretty much nothing ~*about art~*, but I like looking at it. So!
My favourite of Malevich’s styles was his cubo-futurist paintings. I like the strong shapes and the minimal colour palette in Morning in the Village After a Snowstorm.
Park: Regent’s Canal - the same route as this run but with no extra bits. “Speed” training - speedy for me anyway!
Dogs: A white and tan collie with one blue eye, a hairy black one in the canal, lots of terriers. Good, solid, but not outstanding.
Notes: The speediest I’ve ever run! I am really chuffed. I feel a bit more confident about reaching my goal time now. The marathon is less than six weeks away now, so it’s a welcome boost to be so on track with the minutes as well as the miles.
And now for another gender politics/running rant!
I got mansplained. By a good guy, a funny guy, a friend of a friend who with a bit more time I’d like to consider my friend too, but still: URGH.
Yes, marathons are long. I know this because I’ve done one already. I had to say this several times before he even acknowledged it.
Yes, I am aware that protein is what the body uses to repair muscle, so I should eat more of it when in training.
Yes, I have modified my diet a bit since starting training. No, it’s not a big deal, and no I don’t fancy drinking protein shakes instead of eating old fashioned regular food.
Yes, this worked for me just fine last year, and seems to be doing so again this time too.
This guy wasn’t a runner, he just thought he knew better than me about something that I do that he doesn’t (logic?!), about my body, and my diet. And that’s annoying, and patronising as well. Because he’s a Knowledgeable Man, and I’m just a silly girl who’s taken up running because it’s fashionable now and needs to be educated some because obviously even if I had put any thought into this, it would be eclipsed by his Totes Helpful and Unique Man Thoughts.
My legs are my business, and as long as what I do with them isn’t hurting anyone else, they don’t need anyone else’s opinions.
Anyway. I’m thinking of signing up for the Ealing Half at the end of the month with my pal Damien (who gives lots of advice and is *never* a twat about it!), and if I can keep up this weekend’s pace, I should be able to beat my Hackney Half time with no trouble.
I went to see the BP Portrait Award 2014 at the National Portrait Gallery on my lunch break as my office is just down the road. Convenient!
There were over 50 portraits.
31 Years by Tanya Wischerath was my favourite. It feels strong, unabashed.