“But take my word for it, you youngsters – and I’ve learnt in the good hard school of experience – that a man has to mind his own business and look after himself and his own – and –
We hear the sharp ring of a front door bell.”
I’ve really enjoyed spending a lot of time recently inside a play, written in 1945 and set in 1912 but equally relevant to today’s society and – as I entered my fortieth year and thus a period of self-reflection – really got me thinking about social divide, the importance of social media ratings and the absurdities of the society we live in.
Anyone unfamiliar with J. B. Priestley’s seminal play might wonder what on earth it has to do with what I’m about to tell you but – please be sure – “we are all part of one body” and, as Edna opens the door, things now cloudy should come clearer as we progress.
First, we go back to the start of September and a brilliant evening at a gin festival. A great night was had by all, and I was introduced to some amazing Gs and Ts. Bravo, all involved.
The following weekend – to celebrate E’s second birthday, and how amazing he has become regardless of the terrible twos starting in earnest – we went to the Sea Life Centre in Manchester and had a great day. The kids were in their elements looking at the varied aquatic diversity on show, especially the king spider crabs which were reminiscent of Stranger Things or other seminal 80s set horrors… Even Mr Birling: bloated, ‘heavy-looking’ and thinking he’s top of the tree.
The following week brought a very enjoyable christening at which – due to my own daughter’s disappointment at losing one of the DJ’s games, I had to do a catwalk in make up in a competition which I thankfully didn’t win but reminded me of Sheila and the need to keep up appearances. Real life was intertwining with the narrative of the play and society in general as I too felt slightly perturbed by the expectations involved.
Funnily enough, whilst finishing off this article I caught a guy urinating in the street in broad daylight. Kopite behaviour, yes – he was wearing a red t-shirt – so I reported him to his company but stated clearly that I didn’t want to ‘do a Sheila’ and have him disciplined, so I was deliberately vague within the communication (even if he is a Liverpool fan).
This is the reply I got:
Thank you for your gentle humour and understanding.
The strange thing is that we don’t have a site in your immediate area and so I am not sure we can make much progress with identifying the offender. Perhaps you teach children and obviously your in the middle of raising some too, I’m afraid I have to liken managing our 100+ bricklayers as a similar career path. To think I had hoped that the vests would be a positive marking tool!
I resisted the urge to get the green pen out: they go low, you go high.
Back to life; back to reality… The following week brought with it some reasons for optimism and the chance to get down to Goodison. It was great to be back, although the first half against Fulham did little to suppress the groans of the fans around me, especially towards certain players. There would appear to be a growing divide across the fan base in terms of certain players of preference; not yet threatening, and not at the minute e.g. at the end of this match, when everything seemed rosy, but I’m sure, would have been heightened after the Southampton cup game.
I couldn’t attend that as well, and couldn’t get a stream, so had to listen. I guess these two games were the ‘Gerald’ of the month: appearing to be impressive and a rich ‘good looking man about town’ but actually with a dark side and secret persona which frustrates and disappoints in equal measure. Flatters to deceive, even. Twas ever thus, where the Blues are concerned.
Still, I got a lovely new Sir Peter Blake t-shirt this month, which proves this remains an art blog.
“One line of enquiry at a time”
At this point, my little girl was given a homework to find out all about Neil Armstrong and Tim Peaks so we took her into town to the always excellent World Museum and the planetarium, and managed to squeeze in a quick visit to a brilliant new exhibit at the Walker, by a local artist. I won’t give away the clues but it’s a clever piece of curating and makes us think about how we look at things, and people.
Leo Fitzmaurice, kudos to you.
Like I said, self reflection this month, linked to personal events and a real inspector calling… only doing his duty, but upsetting all the same.
The rest of the month was spent working in ever decreasing circles and watching the odd documentary when time allowed (Synth at the BBC, Imagine; Tracey Emin and Sgt Pepper’s as examples) and was made up with the Banksy shredding event. How wonderful, how beautiful that it didn’t quite work as he wanted to complicate the narrative even further!
Oh and I loved the Flight Of The Conchords live, and revisiting several old episodes… Plus, we thoroughly enjoyed the Great British Menu series – especially because it featured an old family friend from Lancaster, Craig Sherrington, who did so well on his way to the final – and I managed to read some very impressive YA books by the likes of Patrick Ness, Marcus Sedgwick and Geraldine McGoughrean which I’d recommend to anyone with teenagers.
More culture and a trip to the theatre for an amazing performance of not ‘An Inspector Calls’, but ‘A Taste of Honey’ at the beautifully preserved Epstein Theatre. The themes of racism and feminism weren’t as immediately apparent when I’d first watched the film version a few years ago – it was mainly inspired by the lyrics of Morrissey and the Smiths – but the sad tale this time sat a little uneasy with me, again because of the situations many are facing at the minute whilst many are oblivious.
It got me thinking how Mrs Birling would have treated Jo.
Then, the following week I took the boy to his first proper game, the FA Cup Fourth qualifying round tie between our local team – Marine – and Salford City, currently atop the non-league pyramids. There were 1709 of us there tht day and despite an oblivious two year old crying in the buggy (and more interested in the team coaches parked outside the stadium) Jamie Carragher was there too, and Peter Hooton, and a great Tommy Fleetwood lookalike who I thought – no, was genuinely convinced – for a short time was actually him.
Marine lost 2-1 as was to be expected… though probably by a higher margin given the divide between the two since last they met. Salford, we know, were bought a few years back by some ex Man United players and have had a meteoric rise to the top of the non-league tree. They have ex-Fleetwood boss Graham Alexander in the dugout, and a striker upfront – a certain Rooney, who scored lots of goals in the Scottish Prem last season but moved to non-league with Salford because his wages were apparently higher.
This reminded me again of one of the key narratives of the play when Eva went on strike for higher pay: denied, she goes on to ultimately kill herself.
“One Eva Smith has gone- but there are millions and millions and millions of Eva Smiths and John Smiths still left with us, with their lives, their hopes and fears, their suffering and chance of happiness, all intertwined with our lives, and what we think and say and do. We don’t live alone. We are members of one body. We are responsible for each other. And I tell you that the time will soon come when, if men will not learn that lesson, then they will be taught it in fire and blood and anguish.”
A group shot from An Inspector Calls (1954)This, and two other news stories of the weekend, got me thinking about whether or not the inspector is right and we’re all actually in this together. I was thinking about players dropping down the leagues, and then the fact that I couldn’t watch the first fifteen minutes of a five o’clock kick off in Italy due to the current legislation and how outdated it is – Eleven Sports have apparently started a legal challenge – and then the development that some clubs are exploring the option of serving alcohol on the terraces rather than just in the concourses.
As a dad, looking forward to taking his boy to his first Everton game at some point in the future, I had mixed feelings on this subject, and all the talk of drinking got me thinking of Eric: “you’re squiffy” etc.
Half term, then: We watched lots of Balamory, including a mad episode featuring Keith Floyd that I’d never seen before (he looks drunk on it, I guess he’d have to be) and we watched old episodes of Ghostbumps -some of which are pretty unsettling for kids, and kind of Tales of the Unexpected-y – which put us in the mood for Halloween. Nicely linked to ghosts and Gooles (the inspector’s real name) this takes us swiftly on to Rentaghost:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZbZgv7FkZBI
What’s weird is that Timothy Claypole actually reminds me of Damien Hirst!
Talking of which, the other good things I watched during the week off were the curious documentary about Damien Hirst’s recent Venice exhibition: Treasures from the Wreck of the Unbelievable which is a fake documentary about a collection of expensive artefacts plundered and then lost at the bottom of the sea, which not only linked back to the previous regime but also the Titanic – which itself is integral to the plot and setting of ‘An Inspector Calls’ – and just life in general, salvaging the good stuff from the bottom of the deepest darkest depths.
Births, celebrating good times, precious moments with loved ones.
I suppose it also connoted the likes of Ghostwatch, The Blair Witch Project and other non-Halloween-y fake documentaries, although the other televisual highlight of the month, The Possibilities Are Endless was very true and real and thought-provoking as a harsh and sometimes uncomfortable – though still heart-wrenchingly – beautiful account of the genial Edwyn Collins’ recovery from not one but two brain haemorrhages. His resilience determination and of course music – and newly found ability to draw – are simply awe-inspiring: please watch it.
As the film reminded me, and the twist in the J. B. Priestley’s tale tells us, bad things can still happen just when you’re celebrating how great things seem.
However, to end on a positive, we went picking our own pumpkins and the kids had a happy Halloween.
In between times, WW and I had a perfect evening at Pinion, a restaurant we’d helped to crowdfund, and soon I’ll write a short review of a wonderful evening – perhaps the shiniest treasure from the wreck – because it links nicely to the inspector’s final speech…