40th Birthdays with Richard and Jamie

Yes, it's that Richard. Which Jamie do you think? It's Mandy's 40th birthday party this Saturday night, 03 October, at the Rugby Club, and we will be supporting her at her time of greatest need. The theme is PINK. More pictures and live feed to follow as as the night progresses into madness and, well, daytime.






















Sorry, forgot to mention the rules:

See you all down there - we will be webcasting from here

Music, People . .

Oh what a night! There are no memorable absences as the floodlights flicker north of Bierley, proving Bradford to be a hot, hot ticket, and all for right reasons. Tonight is the the official opening of Factory Street recording studios.

Live music, jamming in the studios, talk with the artistes, interaction with the stars, shaking with the movers, and popping with the makers. Here we are witnessing a whole stratum of opportunity as creativity twists free of the mould and grabs opportunity with both bare hands, shaking it by the neck.

Danny Hill the photographer was on hand to take numerous great pics, to which I have added my own offerings. An online album is now being up loaded here.

Night Stalker

I cannot sleep, again, and find myself on the balcony over the park at around 0300 this morning. I am pretty sure that the person out there that is lurking near the newly vandalized "Band of Hope" monument cannot see me. Not that I am made in any way anxious by the prospect of being revealed, sat up here here, as I am in my dressing gown, and behind the sanctuary of my high railings. Not to mention the park wall and the locked gates. I cannot but help think back to a time when I was still a smoker, the flaming, orange butt having given my vantage point away quite early on in this game of cat & mouse. However, with my big binoculars, I can see him. Not wanting to get involved in these unknown, mysterious, antics, I make some notes on the HP Tablet and slope off in search of more MAO inhibitors for the gnawing pain in my feet. This is NOT GOOD. A decade ago I started with neuropathy in my left foot, and now, it is with me, nibbling away at all of my extremities. There are moments, nay, days, where I fear that I will suddenly and irrevocably snap, snatch up a meat cleaver, and hack off a toe or two. Merely to bear witness to my suspicion that there could be some small release, not matter how brief in these imagined actions.

When I was a child, I recollect our insane mother, Joan Armstrong, taking us three to the great park near home, just for a stroll in the swirling autumn leaves. There, I became somehow convinced that squirrels were similar to us humans: that they foraged and fought during the day, resting only at night. Now, I understand that they are like me instead: that they do as they care, and if they happen to be out and about in the wee hours and on my balcony at the same time, then this IS GOOD. I hand out some raisins into the glass bowl on the table beside me and watch in delight as my food is tested and then snatched to go back to the nest.

The peeper out there, for I am sure that is what he is, is now singularly aware that he is the observed. The body language suddenly and acutely changes. Looking slowly around  and behind, he is pulling up his hoodie even further over his forehead and crouching down into the ground. Momentarily distracted by my own overwhelming urge to rip off a handful of my own toes, I nurse a generous brandy and put down the heavy optics, vigorously and impatiently massaging aromatherapy oil into my feet with my free hand. Now, really needing to view just what it is that I am doing down there, I suddenly reach up and snap on the large, 1,000,000 Candela searchlight torch that I have carried out with me.

This sudden, blinding beam of white lights up the balcony like a bolt from Zeus and sends forth into the park such a crack of illumination that anyone out there would have to be both blind and deaf not to register me sitting here, in my eerie. I am surprised that the scorching, fat beam doesn't cut down some poor commercial aircraft into the greenery of Peel Park itself. I hear myself uttering discouraging words of surprise at the intensity of the light, flailing as I am, in my seat, just helpless with the shock, just moments before I can discern our chap's feet hitting the tarmac and then vanishing into the distance, quickly lost over the grassy fields.

Next time, my friend, you pick somewhere different. You are known to me. I have seen you somewhere during the day quite recently, and I will remember.

In the morning, before I go to the recording studios, I am planning to drive over to Spring Hill's Pain Clinic to get some professional input, once more. Dr Susan may be long gone, but I still have to be rid of this craving to tear off my limbs before Friday. They know me of old down there, by now. I'm on first name terms with even the Gatekeeper. I am a success story by any clinical standards in pain management: every time I go, we tweak some old, and creakingly ancient medications, then combine them in threes. The pain will recede, quickly, and I will skip off happily into the sunset for another 4 months. I am lucky to have such good support.

I slink into bed at 0400 and remain awake until the alarm screams at 0640.

Mine's a Blue Bols and Lemonade . . .

The Party Season is upon us. It has not gone unnoticed that Bradford University is currently hosting Freshers Week, and the whole campus area is now throbbing to a different beat, with "young uns" swirling in their DESTROY Jeans, strutting in tie-died T-Shirts and matching multi-tone hair, and sooooo obviously having a grand old time of it all. The young lady that ran, wild-eyed, into the traffic on Great Horton Road earlier at 21.15, STARK NAKED, apart from a Diesel wristwatch, was evidently under the strong impression that she had landed on the planet Good Time, Good Time. Gorgeous watch, love. Thank God for ABS and halogen headlights.

Anyway, that aside, to tap into some of this energy and creativity, Factory Street Studios is throwing a full-on, Rock God opening event complete with bar, AND where guests will be invited to participate in a variety of musical and media-centred activities in the studios for Friday night. That's the 25th. We are supporting her, and have promised to be there from 17.00 onwards. I am hoping to do some networking with the Delius Centre and hobnob with certain providers in the area such as Calderdale College, Bradford University, Shipley College, Park Lane, Huddersfield University, and of course, Leeds University. Amy has put a lot of work into this event, and I have invited as many key colleagues in Education and Development from Greater Manchester as I can manage. Johnnie is bringing in reinforcements from East Yorkshire just for good measure. I am certain that there are people out there who would argue that this is hardly a party, since it has taken so much planning, and the guests, well they're tres, tres,  bourgeousie - that indeed, to have a real party involves an element of spontaneity, a big gesture, a smattering of crusty nibbles, not to mention the parallel lines of some sweet white powder. Ah, sady, these people, they're right! They are so bang on target, it hurts. Baby, I say, we're in our FORTIES now: one too many glasses of wine and I'm in bed for three days recovering. Put simply, it's not worth it. Not for me. Not at my age. Besides, we have RESPONSIBILITIES. How bourgeoisie . . .


Let's hope that we are equal to the task asked of us, and that we support Amy and the good folk of Factory Street in the way that they want. The Delius Centre is gearing up for it's opening ceremony on the 16th October. The Lord Mayor of Bradford will be there, doing the honours. In fact he will be there the preceding day, the 15th, hosting the Community Development (LEGI) Awards for this year. I am proud that the Delius Centre continues to gather momentum and expands upon its portfolio of services and facilities. We are currently letting excellent artist studio space at £90 per month, but you will have to be quick, as there are only the two studios left - the rest have already been taken. Interested parties should contact Chris Howson at the Delius Centre on chris.howson@deliuscentre.org.uk or go to the website for more information.

On the subject of upcoming events, I must remember to mention that we are all very much looking forward to the Bradford 1Mile2 Arts Project, that is going to be based in one of the studios at the Delius Centre. I personally, cannot wait to put out the publicity materials and other marketing doo daahs and gizmos when we eventually find out when they want to start. As soon as I know . . . . you'll know. Okay?

Don't forget Friday is also the day at the Delius Centre where we are having the submissions for the Art Competition. CL will be at the Centre this coming Friday between 1400 and 1600 to receive submissions. Contact CL for more information. But please, remember, keep it cool, and keep it decent. We all know what happened last year: when we saw those paintings and sketches it was more than evident that the artist had probably never even seen a woman nude, and it was commented that they may not, therefore, have been suitably well qualified to be drawing one from scratch. I never saw such things . . .

On reflection then, it looks like Friday evening is, after all, going to be a bit MAD? Will I have time to even hang out the washing, and load up the wine cooler for the weekend?? Maybe . .

New

Just a small thank you to students and staff at Huddersfield University who made my first evening back at Lockside, LS2.10 so pleasureable. I am looking forward to working with you all in the coming academic year.

Just to make clear that I think that Huddersfield is a great, but distinctly odd, Pennine town that reminds me very much of Oldham and the outlying villages. Parking in town is a swine, and not merely at the university campus, notwithstanding my impression that the centre seems very much busier, and more hectic than Bradford's nightmare of congestion. The waterside was a very attractive feature and I am hoping to spend some time down by the canal, reading, and writing in the few weeks we have left before the good weather leaves for good.

Catch you all Saturday, 03 October!

Light Fingers . . .

I had to go down there today just to nip into Payroll, and make some sense of my salary slip from the last month: for which I have as yet,  received no reply from HR. This is highly disappointing, but expected. J and I greeted at the base of the steps inside the foyer at WB and then she dropped the bombshell: there have been thefts from staff on the top floor.

What?? I said in astonishment. I knew that LF had £80 or so taken from her office drawer about a month ago, but I put that down to the all-too-common syndrome of, DON'T LEAVE CASH IN YOUR OFFICE, ESPECIALLY WHEN YOU CANNOT LOCK IT AWAY. Anyway, with this money being for Cancer Research, I think that quite a lot of people knew that they lolly was there for the taking. Easy come, easy easy go?

But, zut alors, there have been other instances of kleptomania on the premises, and J is upset that the collective finger is pointing at everyone. A finger with many strands, so to speak. I mean, she says, the thefts are happening after she came to work up there: a handbag was stolen from Tracey some time before LF's cash, and there have been other bits and pieces going missing, too. She's not taking any chances, and is locking herself in the office. This has H & S implications, but theft is theft, and the sooner that they catch the culprit the better. As to who we think it is - well, the pinching started during the summer recess, i.e. when students were absent on the whole. We think that this fact alone points at an inside job . . .

On I sailed up the stairs, the lift and into Payroll, where I got answers at last. The mistakes made by the organisation were awful, and left me quite despondent. I checked the money that was being paid in this coming Tuesday, and left, vowing that this would be their last error at my expense.

Autumn be here . . .

I knew the second that my toes touched down on the bedroom carpet sometime before 08:30 that it was cold out there in West Yorkshire. If Patsy Stone were with me, she'd have voiced displeasure by purring all the way along the bed, and I would have felt the contrast in temperature between her warm belly and the cool of the duvet cover.

I got up and hit the boiler in the kitchen and turned on the gas fire in the living room for good measure. I microwaved a coffee from last night and took it with me, back to bed for 30 minutes: enough time for my painkillers to kick in.

So, I have two very different events going on today: lunch with Tina at 1230, followed by a tile-cleaning operation at the Delius Centre for late afternoon. That's what my Google diary says at any rate. What to wear? well, reader, after a very hot shower I rummaged for my Alain Mikli (Rony Corbett) spectacles and decided to go for an autumnal preppy effect! I discovered a great knee-length khaki mac and found a black Hugo Boss jacket and very pale Levis trousers. A tan belt and shoes, plus the polka dot tie and matching Liberty handkerchief came in handy I as accessorized and got ready for my foray out onto Great Horton Road. Now, not wanting to appear too much of an arse, I thought , "Do I go for the woolly scarf, or do I not?". I dithered over another coffee, and in the end, I  elect go with the scarf, but only a baby one: since it merely mid-September and not midwinter: I don't  want to stand out for all the wrong reasons. Remembering my manual tasks, I found a couple of unloved shirts, a hoodie, and a pair of very baggy jeans, stuffed them in a plastic carrier and congratulated my good fortune at having located a cleaning ensemble without further effort.

Now, having safely parked up the SMART at the college, I was in a buoyant mood as I took in the sight of the many hundreds of young people in their vibrant and high summer attire of T-shirts and jeans, nearly all to a man exhibiting various states of chill, hurrying across the road (dangerous and BAD choice), or huddling outside Westbrook having a cigarette (WORSE). I notice, but care not, of the various colleagues from the near past who cut me dead (you know who you are), by looking the other way, and I stroll fashionably on by to the cash machines located just a street up the hill. I cannot wait to see the same location in just a week's time - the University starts Winter Term proper, and the many hundreds of students will swell to many thousands. Good luck to them, and the many businesses that feed off them, and vice versa.

Tina emerged a little after 1230 and we trotted over Great Horton Road to have a look over the Delius Centre, which, I am pleased to say, is looking great, after a new carpet, and further coats of white gloss and emulsion on the staircase. Thanks to Darren. Tina, I believe is impressed. However, we are hungry. Also, Tina is not very well. We decide to go to Floor Six at the college, and check first at Reception, that the kitchen and restaurant is indeed, open for business. We are in luck. We hear in the distance a Subaru Impreza racing up Great Horton Road, glance at each other knowingly, shrug, and move off to the entry barriers. Our feeling is that someday soon, a pedestrian will get killed or very seriously injured, and all we hope for is that it is not one of us nor a loved one.

The restaurant is empty. There are a mass of Catering and Hospitality students in a gaggle at a table in the distance near the windows over Bradford. We are welcomed by the Maitre'd and led to our table in the well lit and comfortably warm eating area. We order, eat, and gossip well until past 1400. We discover loads of local business, do a gossip swap, and find out that the Saltaire festival is on right now. The bill is £20.40 and we both pay eagerly and leave. I am sorry to see our lunch date over. Tina is still worried that she is unwell. I reassure her and promise to be in touch tomorrow.


I go to the Delius Centre at 1430 to find out where the other volunteers are up to. I am not surprised to find that there are NO volunteers in sight. I speak with Darren about chemicals and bugger off for coffee at Spud Murphy's, where I natter with JR for 10 minutes about coming down to the Delius Centre and having a look at the place. We make a date for this Friday at 1430! Now, not wanting to go home and do the domestics, I go over to the YCC and hope to meet with Clare. More gossip and business. The it's 1600 and I am supposed to be meeting Vanja to have a look at her piano. I wait until 1645, and then she rings. She's just coming down, now, would I mind waiting? Of course I wouldn't. So, in the car back to V's house, we gossip in the stationary traffic about all things related to work, life, children, money, travel, happiness, and the rest. V has a lovely Victorian home that has been/ is being restored tastefully. I meet husband and piano and like them both. V's coffee and Baclava are wonderful. I promise to get back soon with a price on the instrument, having first of all checked to make sure that she's alright with selling it. She is.

I cannot but wonder what I did today! I had but lunch and the Delius Centre cleaning thing planned, yet I seem to have done not much. Can I please have more days like this? As long as I get paid!

The Voluntary Sector. . .

Not unless I can cure my addiction to the odd glass of wine and a good evening meal will I ever be able to get into a Vivienne Westwood half-belted trouser. Even her "etxra large" offering is around a 32 inch waist. Deplorable. That's about a couple of light years in diet pills and exercise away from where I am now, here on Planet "Angst". Anyway, that aside, I have been daydreaming less and less, and just for today, in the heat of this Indian Summer (that I said would never happen in a million years), I have focused on eating way less food. Sadly, I have drunk the odd glass more of wine. True, that for every glass of wine I consume, I down an equal volume of water, this has more to do with ensuring that the alcohol goes further than any innate health issues. Apparently, it was a crime in ancient Greece to drink undiluted wine unless for a medical issue . . .it looks like the BMA want to ban alcohol adverts here in the UK. Yes! Yes, indeed, they must be MAD! If people want to drink, then they will. And they will do crack, H, unprotected sex, cigarettes, and indulge in a Smorgasboard of adult behaviours that are undoubtedly bad for body and soul, but would seem like a good idea at the time. I am certain that a lot of these every so filthy habits are really quite good for the economy, both local and national.

Why have I volunteered to work in the Delius Centre today? I am having lunch with my colleague and friend, TL, at 1230, an event that I am very much looking forward to. I hope that we have the chance to go to Floor 6 at the College? Anyhow, back to reality. At the last Board meeting - last week, I volunteered to help with some DIY issues, including getting the Victorian floor tiles in the entrance hall free of gloss paint and other contaminants. I have a selection of chemicals in the garage that will do, inlcuding Nitromors paint stripper, but do I have old clothing?????

I have, just this morning, been offered more teaching slots. Thank you! Thank you, to whatever Gods there are listening right now. The class that I lost that was scheduled for tomorrow night - Flash Animations - cancelled last week due to poor numbers - has now been replaced with two more: Digital Imaging courses that run until June 2010. So, I am obviously glad that these hours come in, and since my University course slots appear to be Thursday evenings and Saturday mornings, I could be okay? That's the theory anyhow. Let's see when it starts to get a litte hairy. That will be down to someone at the College "accidentally" deleting my log on credentials, or not paying me, etc. In fact, I must go down there today and see Payroll about outstanding monies. I am really trying to make sure that I am fully diarised, and have my teaching appointments for all to see on Google, and on my website at www.johnarmstrong.me.uk

The Lendal Bridge

I was convinced that the day would not be a scorcher by any stretch of the imagination, and so I had several layers of clothing on. Most of the items were mine, but I did "borrow" some bits and pieces from Johnnie Boy! In fact, I did not feel the benefit of my multiple layers, despite the late summer sun, until well after the Chinese Buffet (adjacent to the York Bus Station and round the back of Aviva) sometime around14.30 hours. Excellent value for money at £17.00 in total with drinks and two courses each (as much as we could eat in an hour and a half). We parked up near the Mound, and were disappointed to find the our Mercedes driver's door had been badly dented by some arse (in a crap car) when we came to leave the town, around three hours later. Shan't be going back to York for some time.

In the interim , we "did" York Museum. Shame. The "Museum" has a collection of enviable pieces from antiquity, but the exhibition methodology is straight out of the 1970s. Where was the multimedia? What happened to a guidebook? Audio? There were several pamphlets (I do mean "several") at a £1 each, but none of what we wanted nor needed to know about. The whole building was poorly lit, with disparate displays poorly linked. Items in display cases lacked decent-sized descriptions. As I said, where were the multimedia units? I can only view a drawing of a medieval "palace" once before I get bored to the point of screaming, so what chance of younger people when confronted with yet another (excellent) crayon sketch of "what it might have been like". Not worth the £5 each to get inside. I dearly desired to pay another £2 or £3 just to get outside again in double quick time just as soon as I realised that the place was a maze in the style of museums of my youth. At least the gardens and ruins surrounding the venue were lovely and worth the free walk through.

Coffee was great in Starbucks! I would have loved to have said that we found a great little book-lined independent café near the Minster. This would have been untrue, despite looking for one such for almost 30 minutes. The Starbucks we found was small, ancient, welcoming, clean, and within a stone's throw of the Minster - just off Minstergate - opposite "Shared Earth". Super for people watching through the great big bow windows at street level.

Changes

Renovations have stalled completely, due to other commitments right now, so that leaves me with a half-demolished set of cupboards in the hall, with exposed pipework and all the attendant mess. Stunning. We hope to get James the Electrician back in the next few weeks to move the distribution / fuse box so that Frank can then build a new carcass with sliding mirror doors to give extra storage and a larger hall.

My old Unit (ESU) is to be absorbed by City Training Services - probably before October. These changes were outlined in sketch last Monday at BC in a hurried meeting chaired by POB. Not that many were surprised at all. The numbers were two, in fact, MA and her absent mate. This was only my 2nd week of working PT in this unit, in open anticipation of September, when I will have more teaching hours than I had earlier in the year, and will more than likely would have had have to jack ESU in anyhow.


The class that I has last night was a success - we met at the library and took a tour of the Grove and the facilities there. Due to early closing at 20.00, we had to leave in the pouring rain, whereupon we toddled off to the Sir Titus Salt for coffees and a group discussion. We have two more sessions after this week according to my records - just going to prove that teaching can take place throughout the year.


I am hoping to get more hours to fill in the gaps via activities with my colleague, RSAB, so I continue to assist with new clients like PACE and advise on funding, etc. I have also been approached by Huddersfield  to deliver web design training, and I also want to focus on an education and training programme for the Delius Centre together with Factory Street Studios. The next class that I am scheduled to give for Miguel is not until the week of 15th September, so I have a little time to make other commitments should there be hiccups or let downs.


Very much looking forward to the Factory Street Studios Opening Party on 25th September!

Bank Holiday Mode

Amy Eden started promoted the Opening Party at the Factory Street Recording Studios today, for Friday 21st September! So, be there, network like crazy, and support us, is the message.

Obviously, I have promoted this event on my own website and have also asked certain friends and colleagues who could benefit and bring benefits, such as Marilyn and Col, Sharron, and RSAB, etc.

I can see the end coming for Facebook, certainly in this household! Ning looks to be a better bet, and I am already a part of Linkedin, both of which are social interactive sites for adults. So, I implore my colleagues, students, and friends to have a look around at other social networking sites, and then make the leap! Even I have my own social interactive components (Elgg) in the Armstrong website and also the Delius web.

We're off to an auction on Anlaby Road this morning. We had a preview last night, not long after Johnnie had got home from work. There was a lot of high end, commercial catering equipment up as Lots - looked like a hotel or Kebaberia had had a complete clear out. There were steel tables, gas cookers, deep fat fryers, grills, industrial mixers, rice boliers, kebab machines, coffee makers and the like. So, now that we have our eye on a thing or two, we're off at around 10.00, after which we'll probably go and see Simon at the Walton Street Market.