Another one from deep within the MHAM draft posts that never made it to air…until now.
Back in 2021…
I was thinking to myself the other day “you know what? There aren’t enough podcasts in the world. And golly, there sure as heck aren’t enough opinions being shared around. I should do something to rectify this immediately!”
Or, alternatively, I saw an advert for the free podcasting creator, Anchor, and thought I’d give it a shot.
Several coffees later and some playing about with low-budget graphics and ta-da! A podcast was born:
(Before you say anything, I really cannot stress the low budget-ness of this production. Low budget in the sense there is none.)
Who knows what will become of this, but basically it’s me talking to myself for up to half an hour and in episode one I talk about what lead me to start writing a blog. If you enjoy the concept of a one-woman natter then you’re in for a right royal treat.
I honestly could not be selling this venture harder if I tried. It’s just something I’m giving a go at for a bit of fun.
Surprise, surprise, it didn’t catch on and after forcing myself through four recordings I stopped podcasting and went back to pure writing. I think as much as anything it was the realisation that podcasting with free software is difficult (in that I found the free to use software incredibly limiting and of overall poor production value).
I’m currently in the process of getting the original recordings saved (would you believe it, the platform appears to give podcast owners no access to downloading their own work once published).
For now, enjoy the bittersweet car crash that was the MHAM podcast and who knows, maybe I’ll revive it one day on better terms.
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I was watching some of BBC’s in-depth news coverage of the Conservative party leadership the other night and couldn’t help but burst out laughing. It’s BBC Newsnight at its best impartial tongue-in-cheek self.
Amazon have yet to implement a policy forcing people to open parcels on the doorstep (sorry Lizzie)
It’s happened again!
As spotted on a social media platform (for the sake of argument, let’s call said social media platform “Gacebook”):
Image reads: Amazon Warning!!!! I want to make our community aware so this doesn’t happen to anyone else. I ordered an iPad Air of Amazon certified seller and received a pack of cleaning wipes. Package was tampered with. I managed to grab the driver to return the item. He said he could not change the delivered status. He rung his boss and who said to him, ‘bring the wipes back and we’ll get her sent out an item tomorrow’. Needless to say the iPad never turned up. After several calls to Amazon Customer Services I am still unable to change the status of the delivery to returned until the driver has done so. I know this will not happen. Its currently being investigated by Amazon customer services.
Another instance of someone trying to buy an Apple product, only this time they got duped with surface wipes.
I don’t know why I should be surprised and really it is a terrible thing that people are being unfairly mugged off in such a way, but it still amazed me when I saw it appear on my social media feed.
That, or it could be a sign that I need to get a life.
As a thirty year old, eating blueberry yoghurt from the tub and watching reruns of The Hills I’m going to decline the opportunity to comment. I’d only dig myself into a bigger yoghurt-based hole.
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Nothing sums up my experiences growing up than the hype surrounding the “Cotswold Olimpick Games”, an annual summer event that takes place on Dover’s Hill, Gloucestershire.
You, however, might be more familiar with one of the key events that take place during the games, skin-kicking.
Not heard of shin-kicking before? Well have no fear, for this news clip from BBC Points West will explain all in glorious local news fashion.
(Even I was left thinking “what did I just watch?”)
There’s a lot to unpack here in what is almost a 4 minute long video, so let me hit you with what’s going on (my personal highlights are in bold):
00:12 – It’s not a piece of old reel footage unless a random horse suddenly appears
00:29 – What. On. Earth? (I choked on my cup of tea when I first saw this)
00:41 – Local news gets interviewee’s name wrong (#standard)
01:29 – “It’s a part of our heritage that’s nice to keep alive” – in school we were frequently told that it was a stupid sport and told to not do it
01:40 – Already looking considerably more violent than the 1950s version of shin-kicking
02:08 – I genuinely feel a bit sorry for anyone who travels overseas, or makes special effort, to visit the Cotswold Olmpicks. My sister went last year and said it was a load of cr*p
02:35 – Dear Lord, those shin guards! (I couldn’t stop laughing…again). Also, the buttoning up of the suit jacket which I’m guessing is a nervous twitch on the part of the presenter, as if this bloke is seriously going to pelt him
02:44 – “Be careful, because I am a world champion” is a phrase that has probably become very tiresome down Mike’s local pub
02:50 – Demonstration of shin-kicking (otherwise known by Alice’s laugh of “hahahahahaha! This is brilliant, hahaha”)
03:01 – “Do you normally have something down your trousers?”
03:15 – I’m starting to think someone has dared Mike to wear that silly hat
03:35 – The weather presenter completely baffled, like the rest of us, by what he’s just seen
And don’t you worry, as always you’re very much welcome.
Published on 24th December, the BBC article (linked above) doesn’t contain the news bulletin VT. Someone would have to record it manually within 24 hours, before the transmission was replaced with the following day’s news. But who would be sad enough to do that? Oh, wait, that would be me.
(And before stones are thrown, the recording boiled down to me filming my laptop through my phone. If anything I think it adds to the effect.)
Give this a watch and let’s compare notes afterwards.
Here are some of my personal highlights:
The dramatic reconstruction of ‘opening the parcel’
Lizzie’s revelation: opening a parcel in December, two months after receiving it
“This isn’t an isolated case” in Lichfield
Lizzie’s fears for other disappointed children
(And, best of all) Lizzie demanding people are made to open their parcels in front of delivery drivers
I probably shouldn’t laugh, but I will. And saying this could have been avoided if someone had forced her to open the parcel on the doorstep?
It also begs a lot of other questions…
1) How much money did Lizzie pay for this laptop? (As she and her daughter scroll through a shopping site at the end of the VT, you can see every laptop is priced at £500+. If Lizzie paid that much shouldn’t the gripe be that she was conned? If she didn’t pay that much, how can you be surprised this happened?)
2) Surely you’d know the parcel wasn’t the right weight for a laptop? Unless those boxes of cornflakes are stuffed with rocks
2.5) Why gluten free cornflakes?
3) Did Lizzie convince her friend in Lichfield to also buy the same product from the same seller?
3.5) When did Lizzie’s friend find out she’d been conned?
4) What sane person wraps up their parcels before checking their contents? Yes, the product might not be as advertised, but it could have also been damaged in transit. Very important details you’d need to know before gifting on.
5) What craziness is this demand of opening parcels on doorsteps? Lizzie, be reasonable here.
And finally 6) what ten year old kid gets a laptop for SATs revision? (And if this is commonplace nowadays it only serves as further proof that I was born in the wrong century.)
Conclusion
In all the craziness of the world right now there is one thing we can all take away and that one thing is this this news article. Local news, don’t ever change.
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So, here’s news; I have a new job, in a new company (but still within the financial services sector – in case any of you were worried of me jumping the sector-ship).
Just a little bit smug/proud of myself. A little.
Nothing encapsulates this glorious news better (/brings me back down a peg) than this card sent to me by a dear friend. The message inside is wonderful, it’s all incredibly heartful, only, he didn’t realise it was one of those personalised cards you’re meant to edit beforehand.
(My family are now refusing to call me anything other than Stacey Peterson.)
Brilliant.
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A quick one from me to wish all my readers a very merry Christmas and, if Christmas isn’t your thing, a relaxing few days with happiness and relaxation a plenty.
With love and hugs, Alice x
(Ps, if you’re after some fireside reading, you do know there’s a wealth of past blog posts on my Contents page? You’re welcome.)
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I’ve just got back from my writing retreat and, newsflash, it was beyond amazing.
Full retreat cohort, including course tutor/professional author Caitlin Davies (in the red jumper)
I met 22 wonderful human beings (15 other participants + tutors/guest readers + Arvon staff), and there was so much to take in and reflect on, and every night I felt I like I could burst with creativity (which would have been awkward, as I don’t think anyone signed-up to being coated in chunks of Alice…at least not before dessert).
With so many thoughts, feelings and emotions running through my head, it’s hard to put into extacting words what the past week has meant to me. From 1-2-1s with critically acclaimed writers, to long walks, to sitting down at a desk (in front of a gorgeous view) and hitting word to paper, my time spent on an Arvon tutored retreat at The Hurst (deep in the Shropshire Hills) has been an incredible experience.
A group of us prepare for a mid-morning woodland hike. Photographed alongside course tutor/publishing editor Jacob Ross (second right)
I’ll get something more substanial down soon but for now know this; I’m a very, very happy Alice!
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This is my obligatory public service announcement that I’ve now had my second dose of the Covid-19 vaccination. Whoop! Go me/science/go-away pandemic.
And, because I’m also that kind of person, I used it as an excuse to post a number of letters on the way home. That’s right, I’m so productive!
I spent the vaccination part of my appointment talking to the nurse about my fabulous taste in dresses (best two minutes of any girl’s life) and the fifteen minutes wait time afterwards reading a book. I could have taken a photo of either one of these two activities but it really wasn’t that exciting. Posting letters in a pillar box, that was more exciting.
In short, the process to get both my vaccines was so laid back, it was virtually horizontal. All super friendly people, with big smiles and even bigger bottles of hand sanitiser.
I’m not going to get overly-preachy, but I’d highly encourage anyone to get jabbed (*if it’s something that’s offered to you and something you can medically take).
Still unsure? Browse information published on medically recognised websites, log onto your national health webpages (in the UK, anything endorsed by the NHS), talk to medicine women/men. Don’t listen to idiotic turnips, the ones who own little more in the technical department than a cheap keyboard and have way too much time on their hands to write whacky blogs (oh, wait…)
Anyway, this is my little bit to inform people that yes, I’ve had my second dose of the Covid vaccine and yes, that does mean 14 days from now there’s a heightened risk that I’ll start running around and hugging people for no apparent reason. Also, I may start crying. No reason, I just might.
You have been warned.
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It’s not often I hop onto my soapbox, least of all on anything bordering on political. That’s not what 99% of you guys came here for, to be quite honest it’s not really what I came here for. However it has now reached a stage where I cannot sit here in good faith and say nothing.
Back in March 2020, at the start of the first UK wide lockdown, all museums and attractions across England were forced to close. This included Swindon Museum and Art Gallery (SMAG), a small site located in the heart of the town’s oldest district. Like all respecting patrons of art and culture institutions up and down the country, I fully supported this government-enforced directive.
On the ending of the first lockdown in Summer 2020, Swindon Borough Council refused to reopen SMAG. While other heritage sites reopened their doors, awash with safety posters and guidance on basic handwashing, the chains around SMAG’s grand entranceway continued to rust with dejection. Now, in August 2021, dejection has slipped into acceptance, the rust into rot. It feels like culture was never here at all.
Throughout the assorted protests and disjointed cries from local residents, the council has strongly defended their decision, stating this move is only intended as a short-term measure. Other rumours speculate Covid being used as a thin veil of scapegoating the closure on underlying problems the council had been failing to redress for years, including low footfall, costly repairs and accessibility issues. This, and the proposed £33,000 per year saving it would make to the local budget, at a time when the council needs to urgently balance the books.
For the years I have lived in Swindon, I openly admit to being less that a frequent visitor to SMAG. In fact, one of the few visitations I made was on a first date with my (now) ex boyfriend, which dates it very well. It was a long time ago.
I had thicker brows then, but (unsurprisingly) the same clothes.
But, on the few times I went, I enjoyed it. Aside from the unchanging artefact exhibits (complete with the much-loved “Apsley the Croc”), there was also an extensive art collection which went through frequent rotations. I was never a fan of the 1960s extension, bolted on in the 1960s, but as far as the contents was concerned I respected and enjoyed the contents for what they offered. Only in hindsight do I realise how little I fully appreciated what we had; now it’s gone.
In some ways the council’s decision to close SMAG is predictable. For years, concern was tempered with optimism over plans to relocate the museum to a newly constructed “Cultural Quarter”, proposed as part of a 2019 bid for Heritage Lottery Funding. Housed closer to the train station, the site would also contain a digital media centre, dance studio, and an expanded 1200-seat Wyvern Theatre. It was estimated to cost £80 million to build, create up to 1200 jobs and pump in an estimated £35 million into the local economy. Sadly, this bid proved to be unsuccessful.
Artist impression of new museum, situated in Swindon’s “Cultural Quarter”. Phot credit: Swindon Advertiser
Architectural “cut through” of the proposed museum design. Photo credit: Swindon Advertiser
At the time of writing (August 2021), all capital investment projects are on hold. Headlines will often cite the pandemic as the main reason, however the pessimist in me would also cite that by the council’s own omission, work on constructing the theatre alone wasn’t due to start until 2025. In other words, this project was always going to be a slow burner.
During the course of writing this article, I’ve discovered Swindon Borough Council are now considering different options, including having an “Art Pavilion”, and/or touring Art and collections in pop-up spaces, in a format being referred to as “Museums Without Walls”. Citing the museum elsewhere is also being considered. But these conversations are incredibly early in the process, and this response is quite possibly driven by community action by the Friends Swindon Museum and Art Gallery group (and local news coverage). Where the preservation of Arts and Culture is concerned, it shouldn’t take a group of people shouting and screaming to force the hand of local government. When the justification reads as “temporary closure, due to Covid”, was the expectation that we’d all forget? That we wouldn’t care?
Why does it matter?
I get it, not everyone is big into History; not everyone enjoys stuffy old exhibits and random bits of art. And that’s absolutely fine. But here’s the thing, when you’re sat in a boxy little room, planning ahead for the future, it becomes increasingly harder to pitch your town as being a “place to be”, “up and coming” or a “desirable” if with the other hand, you’re eroding the cultural bedrock on which it stands.
It’s why most towns in the UK will have a heritage centre of some size. It celebrates and brings communities together or, to be a bit more cold-hearted, it adds to the sales pitch. “Move to Swindon, we have…houses”, it doesn’t quite butter the parsnips.
Yes, the museum had a small footfall and yes, there were many areas in which it was crying out for improvement, but we’ve slept-walked into losing another thing that celebrated this town for what it was. With it, and an increasing trend of young professionals adopting WFB (Work From Bedroom) jobs, I fear we’ll start losing the point of why any of us are here at all.
So, where does this place the arts and culture in this sprawling town? It seems the future is set to remain uncertain indefinitely. And this post only relates to one type of cultural attraction; novels could be written of the erosion of a good deal of other services (libraries, community groups etc) in the years leading up to 2020.
In light of all this, I have only one thing to ask of the local council; don’t use Covid-19 as an excuse for a move that can only be described as closure culture. Because, at the end of the day, I think we’re all smarter than that, don’t you?
My Housemate's a Mermaid 