Easter: the bits with the walking and biking

If it were not for the lingering chocolate in the house, I’d swear Easter never happened, it really does feel like that long ago. I’m not sure what that fact bears witness to – the slightly insane work situation perhaps (when four became two) or the fact that Spring has, almost, nearly, kind of, sort of sprung and the longer days and (albeit weak) sunshine feel like the end of the apocalypse and the start of life anew? Either way, Lovely Boy’s and my week away traversing the northwest and west of the UK feels like a surreal, visually stunning intermission between “before” and “now”.

The plan was to cram in all the parts of the UK that we hadn’t seen before, in the way that only Australians can. And by that I mean, casually intending to spend seven days driving 1252km and explaining to English colleagues who look at you like you’re fucking mad that hello, it’s only 876km from Sydney to Melbourne. 1252km is but a scenic spin.

First Thursday Fail.

Casual research, typically conducted over a glass of wine somewhere suitably shabby or hipster or both, has led me to the conclusion that those that work in art are, for the most part, pretty shit at seeing art when it’s not en route to your desk or a meeting.

The exquisite Pae White en route to my desk...

Making the effort to see art for fun and/or cultural stimulation and/or intellectual enlightenment can be hard work – it’s rarely casual. By definition I don’t think it can be. At least that’s what I’ve been telling myself for nearly five years now to explain the fact that I’ve never once been to First Thursday.

And you’d think First Thursday would be a breeze – the first Thursday evening of the month, late night openings across east London, booze, conversation en masse, a bus from Whitechapel Gallery if you’re organised enough to book in time. But I’ve never gone. I think because if you’re going to make the effort to see art – which, you should – then don’t dress it up with distracting temptations like booze and conversation.