Top down view

Side view

Mutated younger sibling

And, for the first time, the younger sibling is about to flower. I don’t know what colour this one is. But it’s the oddest amaryllis I’ve ever seen; it just sprouts leaves all over.

Finally — here’s a panorama from a foggy day (that would have benefited of more, much more, photos adding vertical height).

Fog

The Futurist (photo by Jackie Passmore)

The Futurist was Liverpool’s first custom built cinema, opened in 1912, and closed 1982. According to this BBC article it features a marble foyer, has a lift and was the first cinema to show films with sound (in Liverpool?). It is one of the many cinemas around the UK that were abandoned and just left to fall apart since.

It seems to be a magnificent building — both inside and out, but is in a quite awful state. It is apparently marked for demolition, but as so many buildings in Liverpool hasn’t been for years and years and years now. One of the reasons for demolition floating around the web is that supposedly its roof has collapsed. While there certainly are a number of quite enormous holes visible in the roof in this 2004 video, it doesn’t look so damaged that it is about to collapse completely.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y2_JRTwP4J0

Currently Liverpool has two big cinemas in the city centre. The newly built Odeon in Liverpool One — a big Hollywood style commercial cinema — and FACT’s Cinemas with a mixture of arthouse and more mainstream films. What Liverpool doesn’t have is a programme cinema, the type of cinema I like above all others.

There’s one, for example, not far from where my parents live, in Germany — a former Communist cinema in the backroom of a pub — that focuses on independent type movies and mostly takes them in at the end of their run, paying less in rent fees than if they’d aim for up-to-date or early release. What that cinema has is atmosphere, rather than high tech equipment. It’s in a 60s style that’s maintained on purpose; advertisements at the beginning of the movie mainly are simply slides (by now quite faded) of local business sponsors. It features two projection screens in different rooms, but has only one projection room, so the second screen is projected via a set of mirrors. It draws an audience that more mainstream venues don’t — it doesn’t make a lot of money, but enough to survive.

I would hope there’s room for a third cinema in the vain of independent cinemas within Liverpool city centre. So … here’s Project Dream #1: Restore and re-open the Futurist.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=vZXBsuwN5J0

Given the damage and the state the building is in this is a mad-cap project from a financial perspective. It will not be a profitable thing to do, and would likely need millions and millions if tackled in the general way that restoration projects are done. This must be a not-for-profit and community / volunteering based project to get anywhere — and remain a not-for-profit venture should it ever reopen.

I don’t have any qualifications, whatesoever, to initiate a project like this. But that’s what actually makes me so interested in trying. What I do know is that similar projects have been started and have been successful elsewhere.¹ I also know, since working with the Tanzania Book Project, that there’s a lot of surprising resources available in Liverpool if one just searches for them.

We needed, for example, a space to store the books we collected and struggled finding one. We eventually called into a talk show on the radio and were contacted by a Liverpool based industrialist who offered us to use one of his factories as a storage space free of charge. He had planned to sell it and actually de-listed and took it off the market, as we needed it for a whole year.

Tanzania Book Project Storage

This is the first time I mention this idea to anyone or anywhere and there’s a lot of unknowns with this. But then all these uncertainties actually quite easily offer up an initial agenda.

1) Who owns the building. My hope would be that it is in City Council hands, rather then privately owned. This is one thing to chase up with the council.

2) How damaged is the building really? I’ve been trawling Urban Explorer communities, but while they certainly have the building on their list of places to examine, no-one’s gained access yet. But, given that a lot of Biennial activities over the years involved and used the building it should be possible to gain access and document. Someone with an idea of restoration that could assess and provide an initial opinion would be necessary. Even if this is the point at which the project is deemed impossible — I am sure this would be an exciting exploration opportunity that would result in nice photos / footage.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xjr_y3QVPyw

3) How feasible is the project really? There’s a good number of non-profit organisations in Liverpool that work in the cultural sector, including the Bombed-Out church project that is probable the most similar idea. There’s potential to network here, but also the chance to learn from those other non-profit restoration projects I’ve linked to. Given that it is on Lime Street and right in the middle of the city centre certainly should be a positive aspect. This would need someone with marketing / market assessment knowledge.

4) What is the history of the building? I am sure there’s more to be dug up then the little that’s available on the web. From reading around there are certainly a lot of people out there reminiscing and  nostalgic about the cinema — so there’s potential out there to tap in and gain support. The more there is known about the building the easier it would be to make a case as for why it is worthwhile to restore.

5) Legalities. For a project like this to operate on a non-profit basis, the restored building certainly would have to abide by building and safety regulations, which quite likely have changed a lot since it was last used and accessible to the public. There’s the need to set up a non-profit organisation at the very easiest, and loads and loads of legal hurdles ahead.

6) Funding & Finances. No matter how much can be done via volunteering and general help (I am sure there’s a lot of building material and even machinery out there for very little) there will be needs for funds, eventually. While voluntary work can cover a lot, fixing the roof and similar difficult operations are likely outside what enthusiasm alone can do. There will be costs and if only for sending letters and buying stamps. So looking into opportunities — are there grants out there; are there organisations supporting restorations like these — are initial steps. As with anything, once plans are more definite, fund-raising activities and the like would come down the road. To be on proper footing someone with knowledge and experience of accounting would certainly be helpful.

There’s much, much more to be considered, of course, but — personally — I think all this needs as a start is a small team of people that are committed and want to suss out all these initial issues, draw up a plan and  then start working toward implementing it. I assume this to take decades, rather then years, to go from initial plan to finished restoration and reopening. I can guarantee a lot of setbacks, problems and headaches along the way. I promise it’ll be a lot of work for nothing. I know it is incredibly naive and insanely ambitious. I know it is absolutely stupid. I am sure there’s a huge chance that a project like this will fail in a massive manner.

If you were to ask me if I am serious about this the answer would be “no, I’m not”. Not at this point. But I am also quite aware that pretty much any successful restoration project like this started with someone saying “wouldn’t it be awesome if” and someone else responding “well let’s check it out”. I am very aware that for anything like this to happen a few people need to get together and think, discuss and research this, pretending that they actually are serious about it. It’s very likely it’s impossible to do. But it will be fun and exhilarating finding out.

Who’s in?

1. See these links for examples: 1 and 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

www.youtube.com/watch?v=VQsiLDAxud0

Lyrics²:

I see the sparkling little diamond on your hand
It’s plain to see that you’ve already got a man
I can see you’re not about to fall for any of my lines
I see the want to in your eyes
Deep in your smile there’s a quiet, soft desire
Like the embers of a once raging fire
You know I could light that fire again,
you know it isn’t wise
I see the want to in your eyes

Yes, it’s a 1974 song.  But there’s more than enough equally disturbing and wrong perceptions floating around in the accepted and every day. I am not providing further examples as this is not meant to be an in depth discussion. It’s more of a call to closely listen.

And before I will abruptly change the topic I have to highlight my absolute favourite of Andy Rehfeldt’s cover versions: His rendering of Louis Armstrong’s It’s a wonderful world.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=dFXP-eEVVXg

Which brings me to that part of the blog that is about summing up event’s in my life. As a memory, as a reminder, as, quite simply, a journal to look back to, eventually.³  Kyriaki committed suicide. Then, not long after, two of my friends had people close to them die, as well. I’ve been to Sweden — got to know and stayed with H. & M.⁴ — and participated in a writing retreat in Stockholm. My parents tried to reach Portugal’s Atlantic coast on bicycle from Germany, but had to abandon their journey more than 2000 km in, 10 km before reaching the Spanish border, when my father’s bicycle broke down. Damage that wasn’t possible to repair on the go. They took Spanish lessons for months, but are happy enough about the journey, despite not reaching Spain. P. moved out. M. moved in. I bought a chrysanthemum (yellow) and a begonia (red). M. and me rearranged the furniture in the lounge⁵.

I am trying to dig up background info to Kyriaki’s death. I know, through one of her friends, that she wanted me to have her bicycle. I am trying to retrieve that — as well as a George Perec’s L’espace d’espace and some writing samples I lent her. I’d planned to suggest a project combining Architecture and Writing, so L’espace d’espace was a sensible example. She’d introduced me to Bernard Tschumi’s The Manhattan Transcripts. I’ll miss our shared interest in the abstract and experimental arts — we explored the variety of exhibitions and installations that move through Liverpool so often.

My attempts to collect these things have all failed so far. The landlady never turns up at agreed upon dates and times. I am not too concerned that she will empty Kyriaki’s flat before I can retrieve them; I have lived in the same building for a while and know that she (the landlady) just is far enough on the disorganised side that “next week” often means “sometimes in the next few months”. Still — it’s unnerving. It’s painful sitting in front of that house, waiting.

I think I’ve spotted Kyriaki’s adopted cat vanishing into a boarded up house, once. She fed it, throwing cat food down from the kitchen window to the overgrown garden where this semi-wild cat often stayed during the day. The cat printed on the bag of the brand of cat food Kyriaki bought was a carbon copy of the cat she’d adopted.

I guess I will return to this topic in subsequent entries.

Chrysanthemum

Begonia

Planted Seedbomb

Planted Seedbomb

The Aquarium

Protect the Human

Rearranged Furniture

Rearranged Furniture

And finally — here’s the beginning of a post that’s been sitting in my draft’s for a long time. As I don’t remember what exactly the point was — I’ll just include it here:

People seem to like posting lists in their blogs. Lists of favourite books, films, movies, food, etc. I don’t really see the appeal — what’s a favourite and what not is changeable. If you’d ask for recommendations I’d give some, specific to what I know you like, something personalised. But to go with something that’s fashionable here is a list: The 115 last books (dvds / objects) I loaned out from university library. Tell me if that tells you anything meaningful.

1. Reporting and writing
2. Manufacturing consent
3. 9–11
4. Reporting for journalists
5. Practical newspaper reporting
6. Global journalism research
7. Essential reporting
8. The journalist’s handbook
9. News, gender and power
10. Associated Press guide to Internet research and reporting
11. Investigative journalism
12. Photography
13. News narratives and news framing
14. Intelligence in an insecure world
15. Rogue states: the use of force in world affairs
16. Broken flowers
17. Revengers tragedy
18. Alien
19. Environmental education
20. Outdoor education
21. The history of British birds
22. Atlas of the breeding birds of Lancashire and North Merseyside
23. Interdisciplinary teaching through outdoor education
24. Outdoors with young people: a leader’s guide to outdoor activities the environment and sustainability
25. The outdoor classroom
26. Mountaincraft and leadership
27. The mountaineering handbook
28. Fearing Sellafield
29. Politics: an introduction
30. Human rights and the environment
31. Chomsky
32. Britain’s nuclear waste
33. Nuclear power
34. NUCLEAR OR NOT ?
35. Management of nuclear waste
36. The human impact on the natural environment
37. Climate change 2001
38. Nuclear energy
39. Renewable energy
40. Global environmental issues: a climatological approach
41. Environmental philosophy
42. The international politics of nuclear waste
43. Adventure therapy
44. Therapy within adventure
45. Theory and practice of counselling & therapy
46. Counselling
47. Exploring islands of healing
48. Whose journeys?
49. Counselling skills and theory
50. The Dangers of Sustainable Development
51. An ozone-free zone?
52. Can capitalism go Green?
53. Who’s Afraid of Global Warming?
54. The competitive destination
55. Global tourism
56. Tourism in the Antarctic
57. Critical issues in tourism
58. Adventure tourism
59. Exploring the boundaries of adventure therapy
60. Tourism and the environment
61. Toproping
62. How to rock climb
63. How to rock climb
64. How to run a marathon
65. Co-operative inquiry
66. Advanced rock climbing
67. Tourism and development in mountain regions
68. Mountain environments
69. Wilderness therapy for women
70. Recreation ecology
71. Habitat conservation
72. Qualitative research interviewing
73. Grounded theory in practice
74. Countryside recreation site management
75. Reflexivity and voice
76. Headset (computer)
77. Introduction to counseling
78. Mountaincraft and leadership
79. EVERYDAY METEOROLOGY
80. Mountaineering
81. The mountain skills training handbook
82. Headset (computer)
83. Headset (computer)
84. Modern environmentalism
85. Teaching green
86. Contested natures
87. The environment in international relations
88. Gamesters’ handbook 3
89. Effective leadership in adventure programming
90. Creative games in groupwork
91. Becoming critical
92. Exploring the boundaries of adventure therapy
93. Experiential learning
94. Effective leadership in adventure programming
95. Social research methods
96. Eco-socialism
97. Environmental education
98. The Penguin dictionary of sociology
99. Ecological applications
100. Environmental sociology
101. Environment and politics
102. Qualitative data analysis
103. Using computers in qualitative research
104. Treatment effectiveness of wilderness adventure therapy
105. The end of nature
106. Woman and nature
107. What is nature?
108. You and the environment
109. Geography: an integrated approach
110. Glaciers and glaciations
111. Fundamentals of the physical environment
112. Glaciers and landscape
113. An introduction to physical geography and the environment.
114. Winter skills
115. Karst geomorphology and hydrology

1. Yes — this is all really only about pushing another youtube musician. With Rehfeldt it’s all about the arrangements and pretty much perfect audio/video synchronisation.
2. Original song & video here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d2aeRg_yMSE
3. I have re-designed my webpage, as you can see. I am not done with that, yet, but I have, in the process, imported all the posts from my two livejournal blogs. At the moment these are still private as I have to sift through them and decide what I am ok with sharing here in this far more public space. But there will be more entries here eventually. Keep checking the archives. The re-design will hopefully also inspire more frequent updates again.
4. I’ll answer your e-mail, soon. Promise!
5. Kyriaki helped me move in here, a year ago.

Contrast that to the experience of being a postman in Germany, which means management far removed from the actual workers and whose “staff training” consists of telling it’s delivery operative that they are nothing more than glorified advertising dispensers, a largely abusive public and having to meet strict averaged delivery times (1 second per letter, 3 seconds per package plus a blanket travelling time added). These are so tight that, in the depot that I worked at for a while, some of the older postmen physically didn’t manage. The rest of their family helped out, unpaid, unofficially, just so that their spouse/parent met the targets set. In Germany the family name of whoever occupies a house is displayed on the outside in addition to the house numbers. The expectation is that postmen must have memorized the first name of who lives where in their district, but also that they know/remember if some member of a family that used to live in a particular house has moved elsewhere. If you don’t remember, but post a letter, there will be complaints. Here in England houses only have numbers and there’s no indication who lives where; that alone makes the job so much more enjoyable. It is a good transitional job. Which is where I am. Stability. I am not quite sure where I’ll go next, yet.

Today is the last week I am on anti-depressants after a two-year period. Over the last three weeks I have stepped down dossage in agreement with my GP. I have graduated from my BsC in Outdoor and Environmental Education degree with a first (but will miss the graduation cermony as I am in Sweden at that time) and am half-way through my MA in Writing. The first feels like the biggest achievement among the three. I’d like something big to happen next, somehow.

What is the purpose of an online journal? I am not really sure. This one turned out to be a form of public diary. I don’t keep any note of the things I don’t want to share though, so these are all the (sporadic) notes on my life I do keep. Keeping a diary is, I guess, a lot about the implied promise of being able to turn back pages somewhere at a non-descript future moment in time looking back and rediscovering what one had forgotten. Excuse me while I sum up some recent and not so recent events. Right now Iceland is shutting down modern transportation for the second time this year, as volcanic ash-clouds endanger fragile air-plane turbines. The biggest recession since the 1930’s has arrived in the UK, but no-one really seems to give a damn; some traditional shops that were part of “British culture died”, but live goes on. There’s been one of the wettest and one of the coldest periods in England since weather records began. Cue this amazing satellite image that made it’s rounds. I am listening to PJ Harvey’s The Whores Hustle and the Hustler’s Whore, not through my headphones for a change, but through the computer speakers that my mother gave me on an extended loan and that are, mainly, usually, in the lounge for our frequent film nights.

We can’t decide on films most of the time. We use a roundabout method instead. There’s a pile of about 30 DVD’s in the lounge, with a tupper-ware style small plastic container on top containing an adequate amount of paper cut into roughly equal squares with numbers written on them then folded over. Our own random-number generator. With smaller decisions (like — do we have Pizza today or not? Who’s first to put up washing?) a simple coin flip is enough. We is P., my flat mate, and me. P.‘s an Outdoor Ed. Student, in his last year. And, incidentally, a postman, too. I feel like having some vanilla icecream.

The apartment. I’ve meant to introduce it months ago. We are in the middle of the town. There’s a photo of the view from my desk below. We are living among seagulls¹. Quite frequently one of them lands on the windowsill infront of my window. They don’t seem to be overly aware of their surroundings when landing. Only after their landing do they look up, see me, hesitate for a moment startled((These are massive birds. Their wings span extends beyond the width of my window.)) and flying off again. Just as frequently one or the other is (not very happily?) pecking at one of the cut out cardboard fishes we stuck to the lounge window (aka our aquarium). Other notable happenings include another completed headsound project. The first was an exploration of Liverpool through sound, the second a stop-motion animation (this is a rough and incomplete cut) and the third a VJing/DJing performance where we plugged in and used as many devices as we could [two laptops, a portable play station, a wii-mote, a set of digital-turntables, a light-board and a smoke machine]. We weren’t actually allowed to use the smoke-machine within FACT and set off the fire alarm during practise. There’s a fourth project in the plans for this summer.

And the rest, as they say, are photos.

View from my desk

Spraypainting Fishes for a Liverpool Studen Amnesty protest agains Shell

Justin and Julie

Well hello there! (A mannequin in some clothing shop in Liverpool.)

. It’s a tie.

1. Cue P.J. Harvey’s Seagulls track on her Uh Huh Her album.

And Liverpool – for me – comes alive not through its architecture, but its people. An openness and acceptance of just being, just as you are, that I find unique among the cities I lived in. So this is what I’ll focus on here, a few select encounters, all recent, that stuck to memory. I’ve had these experiences of people sharing a lot about their lives to me, as a stranger, at times in the past, but it happens more often and more consistent here. I may be asking for it, of course, making a point of looking at people and making eye-contact while walking through town, but still. These being from memory by definition means they are inaccurate.

It is around 8:50 in the morning. No rain, but partially cloudy. I am on my way to work. I’m also in the middle of moving. My parents are over, visiting, primarily and officially to bring my new passport and ID card. I’d travelled to Germany late June to fill out the paperwork required to renew these, and returned using a temporary passport. I am carrying all my music instruments, planning to drop them at the apartment this afternoon. My train leaves at Edge Hill, now a tiny train stations with either an energetic and friendly employee or, in the evening, a lethargic, grumpy one, with dark rings under his eyes, on duty. It used to be one of the major stations in Liverpool, before that last hillside was cut through to the centre of the town, allowing for Lime Street Station to take over. When I enter the station building the more energetic of the two was in a discussion with a man (carrying two plastic bags) who’d just missed his train. The customer trailed off, I got my tickets, went out to the tracks, rounding the back of the station building to catch the train toward Warrington, which would drop me off at Broad Green.

Plastic-bag man eventually made his way over, asking about all the music instruments I was carrying. He thought that electric guitars have a nicer sound then acoustics. Asked if I am in a band. Then told me that he’d walked all the way from Wavertree (I didn’t ask why, there’s a train station close-by there) to Edge Hill, and just about missed his train. That he could see it depart. And that he’d wanted to kill himself by standing on the train tracks a few days ago. That he was staying with two women, but loved another, whom he was on the way to, but who had thrown him out not long ago. As far as I’d gathered they are back together. He also told me that he couldn’t sleep, and that’s the reason he wanted to die, seeking reaffirmation that it really is the best thing to just go to the doctor. He told me that they were taking his clothes at night, locking them away, so that he wouldn’t dare going outside, naked. My train arrived, eventually, and we said goodbyes. He told me to join a band. And that he’d be on the look out to see me on TV, should I become a famous musician (I never told him I am not really aiming to make music professionally, or, really, consider myself a musician. He didn’t ask.). He walked back to the bench, sitting down, waiting patiently for the next train, that would take him back to life, I hope.

This time it’s sunny. Bright light, few clouds. I don’t remember what exactly I’d come to town for, that day, but it wasn’t anything urgent. This was before the episode above. Maybe two weeks earlier, maybe more. I’ve passed the bus stands in front of St. John’s just about to walk down the steps in the middle of town, close to the BBC’s big TV screen. A woman stops me, as I am just about to pass her. Middle-aged, stepping out of a crowd of people, with a man of indiscernible age, his head shaven, obviously belonging to her, struggling to keep up. “Hi. Do you know where one can find an adult shop here?” I don’t, really. I send them to Bold Street area, suggesting they might find some there, or that at least someone might know around that area. I’d never been on the lookout for shops like these, since I’ve moved here. Now, of course, the way my mind works, weeks after, I notice how many there are, and in how many different places. There actually are a few not that far off of Bold Street.

K. needs a favour. Someone stole her passport and credit card in Athens. She never changed her address with the bank. So I am off to see if someone in that house I lived in, temporarily, for those two weeks waiting for my apartment to be ready, is in. No-one is. I am to ask the people in that student house to hold onto any letters for her. She used to live there, for a while, too. I sit down on the porch to write a note for them. A black man walks past, stops, and asks me where he has seen me before. I don’t really know, but I don’t really negate that I might have met him somewhere before, either. I am no good with faces, not quite as bad as with names, but I tend to pass people I should know, easily. He tells me he has been in jail, that one learns to remember faces whilst there. He sits down on what is the wall that used to fence in the front-garden. He tells me he’s hit hard times. He’s been released from prison not long ago. They put an electronic tag on him. He lifts his trouser’s leg to show me. People treat him badly. Distrust him. He ain’t ever asked for anything. His loneliness, his desperation of not being able to get a sure footing seeps out. Of well – being treated with disdain. The police gave him a house to live in after prison. He ain’t ever asked for anything. Six years he’s been in. He’d had a girlfriend, been faithful to her, cared for her. She is with someone else. Has been already while he was in prison. That broke his heart. A police car comes round the corner, passes by. (I’d guess they are able to track these electronic tags, right?). He watches them pass. He ain’t ever asked for anything. He tells me that he has to be home by seven, or that there’ll be problems. That he hadn’t had anything to eat today, nor a cigarette. He asks if I smoke, watching the police car all the time, noting it had slowed down, turned into a side street. I think they’ll come back to look at me, he says, they do. He says he remembers the riots in the 80s. Everyone screaming murder, including the Police. How his brother was beaten up. His brother has a scar all the way down his head. He ain’t ever asked for anything. There might be jobs on the weekend, but during the week, no-one needs him. I give him the two pounds he’s been waiting for. I get a promise that he’ll pay me back, once he has money. Tells me that he’s often walking along this street. I don’t care if he lied or not, he was genuine enough. I haven’t a lot of reasons to be in that area of town often, but who knows. He may really do remember faces well and I might meet him – somewhere – once more.

The camera makes everyone a tourist in other people’s reality, and eventually in one’s own.

- Susan Sontag

My tele lens died. Well — at least I have the feeling it is beyond fixing now. I managed to repair the shutter when it collapsed a while back, but this is more serious. The problem is I can’t check — I haven’t found a way to access the part of the lens that I’d need to look at. Without knowing how it is constructed I’d describe it as it having broken apart — the focus ring at the back no longer moves the front part. Rather — the two have become seperate. But this is no good description and I can’t offer a better one. But I think I got one last good use out of it. All, but one, of the lenses I have have do not have modern features like auto-focus and the like. It became a bit of an extra challenge getting things in focus as the tele was already begining to fail, badly. That is I had to press the lens backwards to get it to focus (ouch, nose), and even that only worked occasionally. I am rather happy with the results, however.

On Saturday a set of free concerts in the Docks started, focusing on African Music. Liverpool-based Zimbabwan ‘Hohodza Band’, ‘Groupe Lolou’ from Senegal and ‘Oumou Sangaré’ (Mali). Here some photos in no particular order; more can be found in the gallery:

Groupe Lolou

Groupe Lolou

Hohodza Band

Hohodza Band

Oumou Sangare

Oumou Sangare

Oumou Sangare

Oumou Sangare

I handed in my dissertation

And yeah, there was something I wanted to say.

…

Never mind.

Also — up & down mountains loads, micro & night navigation, river crossings, emergency procedures, steep ground², rope work, an overnight camping trip to Sprinkling Tarn (frozen at the time), pointless evening lectures, and many, many stories about Landrovers from my room mate³. Apart from that — my evenings filled with working on my dissertation. I ended up bringing three backpacks to carry all books.

Back home and off to Ambleside with the three that participate in my Adventure Therapy research/dissertation the day after. It was a good day, I think, and I felt — at the time — that it was quite successful. I’d left late though, we missed the first train, but had wonderful weather once there.

I spent a day at home, last Sunday. Then off to Wales for “Mountain Experience Days and Assessment” through uni. The last time to stay at Charmoix Mountain Centre with the course. None of the University Lectures actually could be present, leaving those students that already have gained Mountain Leader Assessed (or more) status to run these days (as members of staff).

Two of the LJMU students were going for their Walking Group Leader assessment, however, and I joined that group (of five total) under Phil George’s supervision. Marshlands. Welsh wild horses (one dead). More micro navigation. The remnants of local shooting practice (wooden planks, aluminium cans and assorted other material partially pullverized by bullet holes) … and more Landrover stories⁴. I am glad to have had the chance to meet Phil again before the end of the course — he remembered me from back in year one. Phil — and his identical twin Al [suffering from cancer] — is one of the legends of English Mountaineering. Now in their fifties the two left the UK for Italy aged 16, became Alpine Mountain Guides by 21 and completed many first ascends of routes in the UK.

Mostly though — he is one of these awesome personalities that are rare to come by. Highly intelligent, yet humble, full of stories, little facts and knowledge — but always keen to get to know more about the world and the people around him.

1. Unless you paid a fee.
2. Still my main problem — I am less anxious than I used to be though
3. One of the few topics that really excite him
4. He didn’t like the pink one we ran into.

Elsewhere …

I’ve received an extension on my dissertation until March 2nd. It’ll still be tight to finish in time — it’s quite hard to co-ordinate four different people all on a different full-time course. And … well — as dissertations probably always go — it all seems incredibly mundane and not particularly useful while working on it. I’ve also got a transcript of my grades through the mail. It makes for a somewhat interesting read. My mean marks for level one and two where both at around 55%. Level 3 (up to the end of last term) is on a 71% level so far. Given it counts 3/4 for the final mark … I increased my degree classification to 67.1%. I.e. I am on a good path with room for growth. I am not that sure I can keep this up though — the whole dissertation mess up will mean I’ll be pressed for time with other assignments coming up in March. And I’ll not score high on the practicals, as in any of the previous years. Hm … .

I am off to the Lake District from this Saturday on for my Mountain Leadership Training (private arrangment, not part of Uni course), then off for a three day assessment on my Mountaineering skills with uni. Which means I’ll have to work on my dissertation in the evenings.

And meanwhile …

I’ve attended a staff training for my Student Learning Mentor post — “Magic Spelling” — which is basically a NLP approach to assist people in memorizing correct spellings of words. The fun bit … you’ll have to do a bit of “calibrating” by firing of questions and observing the person(s) eye movement for some clues on how their brain works. It’s not unlike the Voigt-Kampff test in Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep / Blade Runner.

Also … I love The eels.. The world needs more of them.

there’s a world outside
and i know ’cause i’ve heard talk
in my sweetest dream
i would go out for a walk

but i don’t think i’m ready yet
i’m not feeling up to it now
just not that steady yet
and i don’t need you telling me how

there’s some happiness
and my stone face cracks again
maybe sometime sooner or later

but i don’t think i’m ready yet
i’m not feeling up to it now
just not that steady yet
and i don’t need you telling me how

so if i leave my room
don’t you tell me to lighten up
maybe sometime sooner or later

but i don’t think i’m ready yet
i’m not feeling up to it now
just not that steady yet
and i don’t need you telling me how

I already forgot many of those that I wanted to note down somewhere — no blog nearby, no time, whatever. Some stuck to mind though … and given I spend a good bit of time on busses, that’s the main focus right now.

#1: Not uncommon is the on the job chat. Not with a passenger, but a friend that happens to pass. The bus coming to a sharp stop, and a 10 minute discussion between driver and passer-by through the open door, while the passengers stoicly wait. No-one’s complained yet.

#2: Or that busdriver that reads a book while working … a few lines every red light (and a sip of tea). He’s bearded, wears glasses. Enjoys thrillers.

#3: The magic all day ticket that passes from passenger to passenger. Day-passes are valid an unlimited amount until midnight of the day of purchase, and, if you do more than three bus trips, cheaper than individual tickets. So frequently people just pass them on once they are done, and a single ticket transports many, many different people as it (I’d guess) is passed on from person to person, wherever the last person using it alights. I just got one of these (it was bought at 10:04 in the morning, it reached me by 21:03) today. From a complete stranger I’ll never meet again, as usual.

#4: I’ve mentioned pedestrian area musicians before. Nothing says Liverpool as the drummer and guitarist playing decently “hard” metal at a central spot of the shopping area. During christmas shopping time, with candy-cotton music oozing out of anything even remotely commercial. In the middle of a stressed out over-crowded shopping frenzy. Plus — they drew an audience!

#5:

Midnight, mid-January

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I am late with my dissertation. So late, in fact that I won’t make the deadline. I am in the middle of crunching out interviews and transcribing, still. I am getting somewhere, though … and there are nice results up to this point. I’ll meet my tutor Monday. Let’s see what happens.

But because of that all leisure activities are off. I missed a Merchant of Venice performance by Propeller (an all male Shakespeare company) that I’d bought a ticket for (I’ve been told it was great, too ) — and skipped today’s Headsound session at FACT, too.