We never did Shakespeare at school;
I never got to play King Lear, although apparently
I never missed a chance to act the fool. We didn’t
Have to learn the Balcony Scene because
My group was not considered bright enough
To master all that dense psycho-dramatic stuff
That old Will smuggled into all his lines,
The hot words waiting
To reveal their microscopic landscape
Of meaning, where the pause between two words
Denotes the violent battle waiting twenty pages on.
He watches as she pauses for a passing car; the drama unfolds
And though she doesn’t know it, she’s a star.
Journal Entry, 11 Oct 2012:
Yesterday I travelled into Manchester for my final exam, ‘Making Sense of Strategy’. Since I was early, I decided to have a coffee and sit outside enjoying the bright morning. Before me, in all directions passed a varied throng; office workers, jobless wannabes, and I found myself recalling the day in 1982 when I came here for an interview at Manchester Poly. I walked down from the station to Piccadilly Gardens. Back then there were no tram-lines, no costly coffee-shops, no mobile phones, no internet, no MP3 players and no buildings on Picc Gards, just the imposing statue of Victoria.
And, then, as now I watched the busy city come to life and the world all seems to shimmer with possibilities. One day it will be pleasant to remember these things…
Journal Entry, 15 Jun 2011:
This morning went over to Salford Uni for my B203 (Business Functions in Context) exam. Seemed to go OK – I did the HR and Marketing questions.
Then sauntered round town, had a sarnie at E.A.T and a glass of Shiraz at The Waterhouse, then went to see ‘Kaboom’ at Cornerhouse Cinema.
Deranged movie full of sex and nudity, with some elements of ‘American Beauty’ and ‘Twin Peaks’. Stooooopid ending, though…
Journal Entry, 24 Jul 2011:
Yesterday was the 10th anniversary of my starting work at Sterling Tech, when I very first moved to M’cr, so Brett and I went to dinner at Swing Bridge.
Watching ‘Anchors Aweigh!’ on BBC2, I noticed that some woman was singing a romantic ballad based on Tchaikovsky’s Serenade.
In the news: bombings and shootings in Norway, some right-wing Christian fanatic.
Just been reading the Hollinghurst interview in Attitude magazine where it is mentioned that Rupert Brooke died at the age of 15.
Is this right? I wondered, so instead of trying to find my Bloomsbury Guide to Eng Lit, I looked on Google and found that RB actually died in 1915.
Journal Entry, 9 Sep 2011:
On the Telegraph website forum, someone made a point which I have tried to articulate in the past – years ago people left skool and went into a job. Even if they couldn’t read or write there would always be a need for unskilled labour and once they were in a job it provided a support environment with options of mentoring and the work ethic.
At work young Chris was telling us about his hobby – building model ships and planes. He’s currently working on The Titanic, and he mentioned that some enthusiasts actually create models of that ship as it is now, with damaged hulls and ruined interiors.
I mentioned about John Soane, and his imaginary drawings for the ruin of the Bank of England – a way of showing off his design for the layout of the various chambers.