The WIP #50: Life and Death
The Week in Photos (7-13 December 2024)
Laura flew to a yoga retreat in India on Friday, leaving me home alone (😱). It’s fine, honestly—I can cook, clean and tidy … though I still don't know how to iron properly. It has also been a good opportunity for introspection. Almost like going on a retreat!
On Saturday, I went to Libby Walker’s memorial service in Arrochar. Sadly, I only met her a handful of times, but she had an incredibly sunny disposition and was a pleasure to be around.
It was a beautiful service. Libby would apparently pick up pretty leaves making wherever she went. We were all given one to reflect on the life that surges through the humblest leaf.
When I heard that Nick Millar was going to be dancing all night under a bridge as part of a durational birthday performance I thought it might be literally outside. It turned out that it was in an incredibly hip railway arch club-studio called Mesh. The vibe was They Shoot Horses, Don't They crossed with The Arches.1 It was great to dance and see lovely people but I couldn't help but reflect on the dance of death. It was like something out of Poe. I left at 11.30pm but came back at 7.45am where they were still just about swaying to some dark Industrial trance music.
It was intense. But having seen the sun rising and the beautiful clear day ahead of them, I knew they were in for a treat when they went outside. The final set, curated by Neil McGuire, consisted of spiritual soul classics, appropriate for a Sunday morning.
My reflections on life continued on Sunday afternoon when I met my newest pal, Lenny. Just 100 days old!
I went out on Sunday evening but didn’t take any photos. I did however get flu, whether through over-indulgence or sitting next to a coughing man on the train, I don’t know.
On Tuesday, a freezing fog descended. It was barely possible to see more than 20 yards in front of you. Picturesque, you might think. Well, no, apparently the lack of wind had created a polluted fog. What is known as smog. Patrick Jameson posted maps from Ventusky showing toxic levels of particulate matter. The epicentre was the West End caused, he guessed, by the popularity of woodburning stoves and 4x4s, though an unexplained explosion in the area may have contributed.2
Fortunately, I survived the week and, yesterday, I popped along to Queens Park Railway Club for the opening of Sam Ainsley’s show, where she continues to show the younger generation (including all her star pupils) how it is done.
The catering incidentally at both the memorial service and the party was done by Lydia Honeybone and was excellent, if you need catering done.
