Saturday, February 21, 2015

Tits In Space

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I awake Saturday morning to a quiet house. They must have played GTA to the very early hours, I have a shower and wander down stairs.

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There is no one around and all is very quiet. I get some breakfast from the cellar shelf, and on this occasion I select to have Rice Crispies, not had these for a while and there were not that many left in the packet. I make note to tell Zoe later. I put the kettle on to make a brew and

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sit in the living room. I relax with a cup of tea and my laptop, and startup VCDS to look up the fault of on a work colleges car that I had plugged it into yesterday dinner time. Off into the the RossTech web I went to see what the issues could be. At the same time I switched on the PS3 started up Youtube for some avid retro game watching. Yay Steve Benway has made a come back thankogd.

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Zoe and Alan eventually rise, and Alan wonderfully cooks up some toast with jam and then some sausages. Normally I like like toast with butter and butter only. I like it simple, but I also like toast with jam. I just don’t go that extra step as I like it with butter so much, note not margarine. Me and Zoe eat them, the lot, the toast and sausages. We get changed ready for the day and night ahead as apparently, we are not coming back but staying out and soon after we are ready for the off. Not that I’m told what we are going to see or why? I like it that way, I never know. Life is full of surprises, well sometimes. We are out of the door and half way down the road when Alan pipes up, “You did pick your phone up didn’t you?” At first I think he is talking to Zoe, but he’' isn’t he’s looking at me. I ran back to their house, opened the door, into the living out of the living room and outside, ensuring the door was properly locked. And then run back to them and onward to the station.

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We catch the train into Manchester Oxford road, me enjoying the scenery that is slowly passing by and me checking out the difference of style of carriage compared to that of London Midland that I’m used to. The conductor comes along and is cheerful, now there’s a difference. Along with the fact you can buy tickets on the train here, something which is discouraged now down our way. As we go to leave the station we don’t, the gates will not let us through. That conductor had given us dodgy tickets? The man at the gate lets us through but gives me a lecture on the technology that printed them and how they are printed at an angle hence they would not be automatically read. I think he wanted to chat more, but I wanted to see the tower of Palace Hotel, A landmark that always makes me feel unlost.

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Alan and Zoe had disappeared into a coffee shop, one that smelt of that rich, overwhelmingly lovely coffee smell that made you want to stay for more.

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Not that I had a coffee, nope I had a hot chocolate and extra unhealthy one..

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Now this should keep my insides and fingers warm for a while, for outside is cold, really, really cold.

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I am shown a part of Manchester I have not been to before, mainly the university area, a long walk down a street with the wind catching the fingers making them feel colder. I had no idea of the destination, or that Simon worked around here. Eventually we were here, we were at The Whitworth Art Gallery. I’m not actually sure why though?

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Once inside the door though Xsara was there, awaiting for us with Luke and telling us how amazing it was. Whatever it was? And even though it was amazing, Luke was a bit bored by now, but keen to show us the thing,and so we were lead away swiftly though the corridors, past the lingering people to a room “in the back”, to the thing, to admire it, and here it is. Xsara gave me the low down on it, so now I know, its not a thing, its a master piece.

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So this is actually called “Cold Dark Matter an Exploded View”. If you can’t tell from the pictures, it’s a garden shed, that’s been blown up. Then rebuilt, at a point of being blown up. There’s an assortment of objects in there too, some disfigured, some not, with the garden shed light in the centre, the centre of the explosion. Now this was done with the help of the army. But if you have a garden shed, unlike me, and fancy doing it, you really don’t need an army. All you need is some Semtex from the local DIY store and a good set of Nike’s. You’d be wise to invite the neighbours around, or just to let them run for help from their mad neighbour. Whoever put this back together though must have been one patent person for this must have been so time consuming.

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Perhaps whilst one stares into the object of desire, as if it is the sun and the centre of the universe, you are probably missing the whole trick, the whole picture, for it is not what you can see on the outside, but

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what the rays of light produce on the outside, on the walls, the shadows. Now those you can touch.

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Of course some shadows move. Others just make you think twice what is it you are picturing?

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So this is by Cornelia Parker, she must be very disturbed, I’d like to meet her to discuss other things that can be made bigger by blowing them up. As long as has she has got the time of course.

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If you closed your eyes however this is what you should see.

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This is also very kinky. Take a very ordinary statue you may have in your back garden, using plenty of string and tie them up! Volar.

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Alan explains there is something around the corner that is going to impress me.

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He is sure of it, and shows me the pamphlet. However we first come to this.

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And quiet right to, I want one of those. Ohhh Wow.

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but no time for that. No first we must queue to look at some mould, on canvas, mounted to a wall.

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Which makes me consider opening my house up, if mould is your thing, come on in, enjoy and I’ll make you a cup of tea at the same time.

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He enlightens me that it is gunpowder on canvas! Only one thing goes on in my head at that moment. Does anybody have a light?

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Alan though obviously doesn’t believe it for himself either and has a sniff! I’d already rubbed my fingers on it though. It definitely wasn’t mould.

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We admire the gun powder scene on the canvas, the still waters, the thoughts of those who did this.

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And how far did they stand back whist painting it? Was it one long paint brush? How much Skunk did they smoke whilst doing this to make themselves feel safe whilst creating? Well you must consider these things to truly understand the artist.

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Well they lived to sign it.

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We say goodbye to the gunpowder, the gunpowder sun and move on, onto safety, well Alan and Zoe do.

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Me? I’m transfixed by something, something so pretty still, something I’m not going to stop desiring, so nice, I just want to touch, but can’t. Eventually though and unwillingly I’m removed from the object of my desire.

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Next I’m taken to the War Room. And yes this is it. A room full of anything but war. Some simple lights and many, many, many, holes.

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For the visual display is created from the red poppy appeal paper the poppies are punched from. An eerie creation of emptiness and redness, of thousands upon thousands of holes. Holes that represent every soldier shot? Every bullet fired? Every heart broken from a loved one not returning.

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“Now Alan you promised me something interesting? When are we going to see it?”

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Alan shrugs his shoulders at me and walks off, leaving in a peril of miss understanding the whole thing. In fact everyone walks of leaving the war room and me. In the eerie red salute of the bloody fields with the sun rising in the morning distance. Something only you can fully take in by ones self, alone.

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I wander the rest of the exhibition, considering that if I get a greenhouse I’d get one just like that, I looked at the paintings and then considered to have a read of the pamphlet in detail. I find a bench to sit on and open up the book and read all about everything. One thing strikes out at me and I must find it, what could it look like? I’ve seen almost everything? But this I hadn’t spotted. I’m disturbed briefly by a lady who sits down with me and has a natter. It is moments like this that make you hear the sound of fairy's fluttering in the background.

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But once focussed again I’m off to look for the paintings made with snake venom that was so easy to get, and snake venom vaccine which wasn’t so easy to get and was so very expensive. As it describes, paintings that have the power to kill, whilst at the same time to cure. Yes I must find them.

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I would like to say I found them paintings, but whilst wandering around everything, I either didn’t recognise them or

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They plainly didn’t exist. As it happens though they lead me to something far more interesting. Something that caught my eye.

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The art of Spam!

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Nope it was this, this is “Tits In Space” and this was giving me ideas for my living room.

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I took a closer look, a much, much closer look. The artist obviously had troubles, and I can only image they were trying to give up the habit. A lady came up to me whilst I was staring so closely to the wall paper “What are you looking at?” she said. “Tits in Space” I replied and pointing in the book. She looked most confused and went off to look at the gnome  figurine made from cigarettes instead. Well at least I have got taste in wall paper, she probably wants one of those gnomes for her garden.

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Although Tits In Space was by far the best bit in the Whitworth Museum, I still hadn’t given up on finding the venom paintings. I did however get asked to leave as it was closing time, followed by a Zoe trying to find me. I asked her what she thought of the Tit’s in Space, but she was more interested in going Chinese then discussing the piece. So as it happens I either did see the venom paintings and never realised it, or I never saw the venom paintings and never saw them. Either way I still can’t recognise them. However I will for evermore have visions of Tits in Space. And with that we reunite with Alan and leave towards the Chinese Quarter.

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We walk down the street and Alan walks into McDonalds, no hand signals nothing, just walks right in, and so we follow. He gets fries and then we leave. He gives me one, it is so salty, so nice, so fry, and then we walk past a Sainsbury's, and something catches my eye, I let them know I’m going to dash in. I go straight to the shelf get the paracetamol and head to the self checkout, which sets the suicide alarm off. I’m given the all clear to commit suicide and re-join Alan and Zoe. They ask if I’m not drinking then? To which I say I will later, my knee joint is just hurting a lot. This is apparently great as we are all now going to have Chinese tea.

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We enter Pearl City, and Xsara is there. I’m asked how many for a table and I say I’m not sure yet, but 3 I think. It looks to me like Xsara is one step ahead of us again and has already eaten. There is some chatter and another waiter tries to sit us down. I’m not having it, I’m not even sure if we are staying. Then another comes and insists that a table for 5 is now ready, and is most assistant, I’m lead across the restaurant, all the others follow. Apparently it was meant to be so. We sit down together. Which is great until they insist they have laid us a better table out for five and we should move. We should, most instant and I know, you may as well do as they say. Apart from Chinese Tea, nobody knows what they want. Apart from Luke that is, who has read the menu already and is now playing and making me envious about why I didn't bring out my toys.

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Of all the things Luke had been promised was at the end of the meal would be fortune cookies. However Pearl City doesn’t believe in the mystical powers of fortune cookies and therefore they do not have any. Your destiny is already decided by your birth year sign, or so they told us and gave him a lolly pop. I instantly felt further deprived, no toys no lolly pop and I thought I was being well behaved too.

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And I’m worried. Somewhere, something's not right?

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mooo not Bahh?

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We do however get oranges, lots and lots of oranges, so lets hope the customers like oranges.

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As it happens Zoe does.

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We get our things together and head outside. We await Xsara from the bathroom facilities. For some reason the Buddha is laughing behind Zoe back, but why, What is so funny? She doesn’t notice.

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They both stare me in the eye “We know the Buddhas laughing but do you know where we are going next Nack?”

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We walk down the road, round the corner, round some more corners and into a door. Well though the door, not literally, no we opened the door and went though the now there gap. We are of course at the FAB Bar to meet the F.A.B. Rosie. As we enter, the place is quiet, the quietest I’ve ever known it, we walk down the steps and into the main area, a quick look around and no one see’s a Rosie. Zoe says she just saw the Girls toilet door close, and she must have just gone in. So the three of us stand there outside the girls lav door waiting, unknowing to us, she is not in there, and we wait. And wait, and well this is beginning to look odd and I’m getting ready to get arrested. As I swing round to see the empty bar and no bar man, and I think we’ll have a beer while we wait, we see she is sitting there up a corner, her nose in a book and by the side of her an old man’s beer glass with beer in it. Do they really have them here? We get some beer in and lower the tone somewhat and drink from the bottle.

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There is no hanging around the FAB Bar though, somewhere George and his brother are in town and we are going to join them, so we are off on another mystical tour for Nack as this is another bar I have never been to. The Peveril Of The Peek a proper old pub, with proper toilets, proper bars and proper beer. But they don’t have proper old man type drinking glasses, cuz I asked. Once a few beers had gone down we moved onto another bar but got shoe horned into another bar they mentioned as we were passing and one I now wanted to go to, just for the sake of it.

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The Temple Convenience, because it was a convince in the street down some stairs. Yep a converted under the street toilet but now a bar. When I say converted toilet not much had been converted. And if there had been room for any bar stools I was expecting them to be lavs on a pole, complete with seats if you are lucky.

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Somehow, we were only popping in there, for my entertainment, but ended up staying, and considering this used to be a toilet, the toiletries area of the place was not the best. Now the last person I tried to talk to about a tattoo was green all over and he didn’t take to me too well, I was probably slurring, or said something like “what were you thinking – Incredible Hulk?”. This chap though had a real nice one on the inside of his arm and so he told me about it. He had lots of the usual stuff but this one stood out to me as being significant.

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And we stayed in that bar until it was time to say goodnight to Rosie and allow the others to ponder weather they were or were not going to stay out with us.

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As it happens they were, and this is where we find out where it is, Zoe was going to take us to next, and what was to be our last port of call for the night.

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The entrance of the doorway appeared to me to be some Chinese destination, say restaurant, only we are directed in a certain direction once in. The good thing was they had a cloak room, and this time I wasn’t going to loose my jacket, nope this time it went in the cloak room. Zoe gave me the thumbs up.

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Once in there we head to the entertainment, music being played by a live band. We then head to the bar, I ask for a Strongbow, they have it on tap, or as it happens they have a tap but no Strongbow. God must be watching over me afterall. Instead he insisted (god obviously) I try before I buy some Norwegian cider, oh dear, it was like vimtoe.

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Several of those later and things were looking like this.

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people were moving like this.

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and there was more of that. It was a great little funky room we were dancing in. At some point the group split. Alan had said goodnight and the others had followed.

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Zoe suggested we get a bus home before they stopped running like last time, and I thought, that, that was a much better idea than last time. And at least this time I’ll have a coat, and so to the cloak room we went and I handed over my ticket and there began a lot of rummaging, and then random coats being brought over to me. The word black didn’t seem to signify anything or that I may want a coat for a bloke. Was that Norwegian cider really that good? I look at Zoe, she looks at me back, and we both laugh. They find it eventually, although there was some really decent jackets offered to me. Me, I’m to honest for my own good.

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At somepoint we get home, Zoe settles into the living room and I thank her for a brilliant day.

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And with that I say goodnight to Mr Tickle, Zoe and head upstairs to join Alan in the land of Nod.





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"Nowhere Near The End Of the Rainbow"
contains information that is non-accurate, made up and in some cases just down right lies. Anything in this blogg may be based on true fiction but to help dramatise it, some items may have been embellished. Some names are made up, others are not and any that are familar to yours just are.



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 Near The End Of The Rainbow

An account of something that may one day turn out to be wonderful.......