It was a busy week, particularly the latter half and, as a result, my desk is piled high with bits of paper I haven’t sorted out. Even a trip to the Writers’ Circle results in several sheets with comments on them, for me to take note of - or ignore – as the case may be, as was the case this week, when I did manage to produce a further episode of Innocent Bystanders. I spent much of the earlier part of Tuesday removing pieces of paper one at a time, and filing them, acting upon them or presenting them to the waste paper recycling box. But it didn’t seem as if many disappeared.
On Wednesday, I met my friend, Pam, in London, with a view to seeing the Gauguin Exhibition at Tate Modern. Pam had a brainwave and instead of going by tube and getting lost en route from the tube station, we took a bus from Charing Cross to St Paul’s and crossed over the Millennium Bridge. First time I’ve done that – and of course, it doesn’t wobble any longer. I’m not a great fan of Gauguin – his rather flat, two dimensional style -though some of his highly coloured paintings are quite attractive. http://uk.images.search.yahoo.com/search/images?_adv_prop=image&fr=yhs-avg&va=gauguin&sz=all . Because we had tickets timed for 2.30 p.m., we first went to the Sunflower Seeds exhibit, created by artist, Ai Weiwei. http://www.tate.org.uk/modern/exhibitions/unileverseries2010/default.shtm . This occupied the whole of the Turbine Hall at the Tate, and was filled with people strolling over the massed ‘seeds’ (they are in fact made of porcelain) and sitting down and playing with them, particularly when accompanied by toddlers and children. We even saw a couple of kids of about eight and ten being buried up to their necks in the seeds. It was very much like being on Brighton beach, playing in the loose stones. On Friday, it was announced that people were no longer to be allowed on the seeds, because of dust – and I must admit to having had a coughing fit, near the entrance. However, I do feel quite privileged to have been one of the visitors in the three days that the public could walk all over the exhibit. It is sad, because without people, there, it does look like a room of shingle, or even, from above, a fitted, sculptured grey carpet. It’s the people that make the exhibit, though I know that Mr Weiwei’s aim was to show that a mass of seemingly identical objects are actually all individual – perhaps a metaphor for China and its history. You can still see a video of his thoughts and how they were made.
I came home and had to force myself to do the ironing in the evening, because I was so behind with chores. I watched The Apprentice at the same time, so that made it palatable, and then went to the rolling news on BBC to see what was happening to the miners. I stayed up later than I should, just watching as the miners were brought to the surface, as I had also done on the previous day. Listening to the squealing girls on The Apprentice, incapable of co-operating with each other, it seemed, with all the egos struggling to be top, I couldn’t help contrasting this with the amazing ability of the men imprisoned down the San Jose mine in Copiapo, Chile, to work together as a team from the very beginning.
What a stirring story the miners’ rescue has been. I haven’t followed the individual stories of the minors, though I know that some have more than one woman in their lives, and some have fathered children additional to their acknowledge family unit. But I was affected by the story as soon as I heard how they had survived the first 17 days down the mine – they had worked together and rationed out their food and water. What self discipline they exhibited then and later. I felt they just had to be rescued and their concern for each other, their ability to act as a single unit was inspiring. And although there were concerns about how they would survive until rescue came, I felt that in succeeding to survive up till the time of their discovery, they had surely experienced the worst time of all and would be able to cope with anything else they were presented with.
From a psychological point of view, it was good that the initial forecast was three months, then reduced to two and actually, one month. And the engineering and the drilling, etc., has been magnificent.
This is so obviously going to make a fabulous book – all the ingredients are there; the drama and the human stories. It is also a very good example of how a novel could be constructed and shows how over time, we can get involved with a group of people. A tragedy occurs, people die – we hear, we’re sorry, but it’s at an end. But when the story of a group occurs over a longer period, we can’t help but get involved.
Meanwhile, we at Goldenford, had another rehearsal of our event, Music and the Muse, to take place on 27th October at the Guildford Institute. Our audience will get tea and cake and us to entertain, all for a very modest price. After our rehearsal, I lunched with Irene, and then dashed home before rushing out again to the reading circle, where we discussed India House – a somewhat claustrophobic book purporting to describe the late fifties. It had some wit, but was, on the whole, a rather downbeat and depressing book. So it may have been well-written, but I wouldn’t be tempted to read it a second time. My bro-in-law came for dinner on Friday, and yesterday, I more or less flopped in front of the TV. Next week is looking quiet, though, so plenty of time to catch up with paperwork, washing – and the dreaded Goldenford accounts.
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