Wedding

First wedding I have been to on a Sunday. Also first entirely secular wedding I have been to. It was held at a country hotel that had formerly been the Officers' Mess of an RAF base.



Above: confetti scattered on the red carpet leading up to the hotel entrance.

I was a bit late getting to the hotel, which was a two-hour drive from my home. I arrived just as the bride was stepping out of an antique white Rolls Royce, and I had to dash across her path to get into the building. Far from ignoring this bad time-keeping the bride (who is a friend of a friend) called out to me, which presented me with a quandary - do I stop and chat to her and effectively go in with the procession, or do I scuttle in ahead?

I gave a weak wave of acknowledgement and rushed on in.

Not being part of the main reception party I was directed into the wedding salon which was a big room filled with chairs arranged theatre-style. The blinds were closed at the windows and the room was lit by candles. White flowers everywhere, love-songs by Patrizio Buane playing over the sound system.

About eighty guests were sat down, with another twenty or so standing up (with official duties). Hardly any of the women wore hats, but instead wore fascinators, which resembled 1980s deeley-boppers. Because I was so late I had to sit at the back.

The actual ceremony took about half an hour, and after the formal registration we were asked to wait in our seats while various photographs were taken.

I was sat between two women who knew each other, and they talked over me.

"First wedding I've been at where I havn't had to sing anything" said woman one.

"They don't know the words" said woman two (who apparently was a teacher). "They don't teach hymns at school anymore. The kids don't even know the words of the national anthem."

When we were allowed to get up everyone filed into the entrance hall where drinks were served (also cups of coffee). Then about an hour of waiting around while the photographs were taken. A big group photograph was taken outside, all the men having to get down on one knee as if we were a football team, the gravel wet.

Interminable long line of welcome.



Above: my place setting.

The wedding breakfast was held in the hotel dining room (the whole building was closed for the event). Because everyone I knew was on the top table I sat at a table of strangers, although I soon got to know them. The food was very good, and because the staff kept bringing out "extras" I had everything that was going.

Champagne for the toasts. The speeches went on for about an hour. By this time it was 6pm.

As people drifted away from the dining room I wandered into the ballroom. Gaming tables had been set up at the bar, and I played Black Jack for about an hour until I had lost all my chips. Then I talked to friends for about another hour, not going anywhere near the dance floor.



Above: photograph I took as I walked away from the hotel.

Because I was due to start a new job the next day I didn't want to stay too late. I looked around for the bride, but she must have been resting in her room so I said goodbye to the bridegroom (the first time I had properly spoken to him). The music grew fainter as I walked through the damp shrubbery to the car park.

Start on Monday

I left my job a couple of weeks ago, and I am about to start a new job.

I got this new position following a telephone call from Terry (MD at the job before last). He told me a friend of his was looking for someone to do "communications". Anyway I went to see this friend at her offices (not in London) and she explained that she was adviser to an NGO that needed someone to supplement their existing communications function.

Two interviews followed, both on the same day (an hour apart) and then I was told I had got the job.

So I am to start on Monday on a fixed-term contract (to get round the fact that the NGO has a recruitment freeze). Initally for six months, with the possibility of extending the period to an additional six months (but no longer). The money is quite good.

I am not sure if I will write about my new job, but on balance I think I probably will.

I think blogging about jobs is good all round. Too many employers think they are omnipotent. In any case, I try to disguise identifying features.

And if I am found out and never work in this town again?

For me that would not be the end of the world.

Strike

No Dateline London today as the BBC journalists are still on strike. Tomasz Schafernaker, looking unusually serious, appeared at 12.30 and told us the weather. Then the screen bounced back to News 24.

Yesterday I watched News at Ten on ITN and it made a refreshing change.

Felipe Messias, Belo Horizonte

Theatrical production in the city of Belo Horizonte, capital of the state of Minas Gerais in Brazil (the photograph manages to capture the drama of dramatic productions, the theatrical exaggeration of the theatre). The state of Minas Gerais is full of superlatives - longest rivers, highest mountains, deepest caverns. The poet Carlos Drummond de Andrade was born in Minas Gerais:

I wish I had the courage
To speak of this secret
To tell the world
About this love
Isn't lack of wanting
Isn't lack of desire
You are my wanting
My greatest desire
I wish I could speak loud about
This healthy madness

http://www.flickr.com/photos/felipemessiass/5122330220/

Gladioli

Above: despite the gloomy skies of early November the fields are bright with gladioli (or sword flowers). These ones are pink and are hybrid ornamental versions of the genus. Unlike the showy artificial appearance of hybrid gladioli, the original wild flowers were of considerable charm, and found throughout Africa, Asia and southern Europe.



Above: a field of blue gladioli. These flower crops will be harvested by gangs of eastern Europeans. The arrival of huge numbers of these migrants has completed undermined agricultural wages in the county, particularly affecting women who depended on casual fieldwork to supplement household incomes.



Above: gladioli are associated with the singer Morrissey who supposedly used a bunch of gladioli instead of a microphone as a protest against being asked to mime on Top of the Pops. Morrissey has been described by music magazine NME as "one of the most influential artists ever". His cultural influence, which is undeniably significant, has yet to be properly assessed by a leading arts commentator.

Stalking, and how it is portrayed in western culture

The video for Shayne Ward's new single Gotta Be Somebody has just been released. Directed by Billy Woodruff, the film was shot in Los Angeles. The narrative of the film shows a stalker pursuing the singer.



Above: the film shows the stalker taking photographs from a street corner across from the singer's (presumably fictional) apartment block. The entire narrative of the film is set in an urbanscape at night. Note that the stalker is very attractive and not the crazed obsessive type normally associated with stalkers.



Above: in what can only be described as an exhibitionist display the singer appears half-naked at a window and the image is captured by the stalker. The girl then follows him through the city with an undercover ingenuity that you would normally associate with a John Le Carre character. Eventually the singer corners her and snatches the camera away (when he looks at the images he sees the extent of her obsession).



Above: having chased the stalker away the singer returns to his apartment, apparently regretting what he has done. The stalker then appears, having gained access to the apartment, and approaches him. The ending is left unresolved.



Above: we think of stalking as a modern phenomenon but it is a theme that can be traced back to the middle ages. Roger Boase has analysed the idea of courtly love from a Freudian perspective. Is modern stalking the same as medieval unrequited love (and if so, how far back does this monomyth go)?



Above: the video for Justin Timberlake's 2002 song Cry me a river was directed by Francis Lawrence and shot in Malibu. The film won MPVA awards in 2003. The narrative opens with a sinister hoodie (played by Justin Timberlake) breaking into the home of a former lover.



Above: after rummaging through her possessions and ritually violating her bedroom the hoodie waits until his former lover returns.



Above: the narrative ends with the hoodie peering through the opaque glass of a shower unit while the naked (and unsuspecting) former lover is bathing - this image would be terrifying if it ever happened for real.



Above: this has set me thinking how far back we can trace the practice of stalking, and how it is portrayed in western culture. Elaine stalks Lancelot in Tennyson's Idylls of the King (and the Lady of Shallot). Keats writes of a knight stalking La Belle Dame sans Merci. Echo stalks Narcissus. The whole Trojan War cycle can be seen as an exercise in stalking (with Agamemnon in the Justin Timberlake role). So that takes us back fourteen thousand years at least.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Mu8MrCR5pQ&ob=av2n

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TLGOm-NJVts

Snows of Yesteryear by Gregor von Rezzori

Now I have changed my job there is no need for me to keep researching Romanian markets.

But I carried on with some of the reading, including Gregor von Rezzori's Snows of Yesteryear (has nothing to do with market research, but I included it because it looked interesting).

The author's style has a Proustian quality (not a pastiche).

At the end of the Second World War the author is in the West. The town of Czernowitz becomes occupied by Ukraine. Eventually, after the fall of communism, the author returns to his childhood home as an old man.

And he writes:

"All in all, this certainly was not a world of ease and plenty, and it was entirely free of the mad waste and squandering that is the hallmark of late Occidental consumer paradises. There was no sales talk, no urging to buy this or that, nor did anything irritate by junky superabundance. The moderation was pleasing, whether or not it was voluntary. I felt no obligation to purchase or become the user of anything, and this circumstance may have given me the deceptive impression that the people here were possessed of the dignity of those who voluntarily do without and content themselves with little."

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Snows-Yesteryear-Portraits-Autobiography-Translated/dp/0141192739

Gingers For Justice

Harriat Harman's gingerphobic outburst over the weekend made me think of the Gingers For Justice movement.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XHLUyouE48Q

Dateline London earlier today

Watching Dateline London earlier today I was puzzled why they regularly have a correspondent from Le Monde and yet never seem to have anyone from Le Figaro.

Also, why this obsession throughout the media with the American mid-term elections? They will have little practical effect on us. Is it because British journalists want an excuse for an expenses-paid trans-Atlantic trip?

The American elections in 2008 saw virtually every senior journalist rushing over to America (including the entire panel of This Week, with the programme broadcast from a sort of bar or cafe where everyone seemed to be sitting on uncomfortable-looking stools).

Since we are constantly told globalisation is going to change everything (everything) presumably there should be reduced coverage of American affairs and more emphasis upon the BRIC countries. This Week and Newsnight and Channel 4 News should be doing extended live editions from Brasilia, New Delhi and Moscow during their respective elections. And also covering in depth the lack of elections in China.

The whole de-industrialisation process will have to be reversed

Above: I was very encouraged by reports earlier in the week that Business Secretary Vince Cable is going to make it harder for foreign take-overs similar to Kraft's raid on Cadbury. The takeover of Cadbury was done with leveraged finance (ie the deal was loaded with debt) and the debt paid for by exporting British jobs to cheaper parts of the world. Unpleasant, unacceptable face of capitalism, as they say.



Above: a selection of Eurochoc - what does it matter if the chocolate we eat is made in Poland or Belgium or Ireland since globalisation is good for everyone.

Mind you, even Jonathan Freedland on The Long View tried to maintain that the Cadbury take-over was nothing to get bothered about (unless of course you are one of those who have been made unemployed).

Globalisation is inevitable and good for everyone.

But what happens in say thirty years time when salaries in the Far East and Europe are roughly equitable (the Chinese ones rising, the European ones absolutely plummeting)? There will then be no advantage in making manufactured goods in the Far East - they may as well be made close to the local European markets to save the cost of transport. So the whole de-industrialisation process will have to be reversed.

In the meantime a few (comparatively very few) people will have made huge amounts of money out of globalisation while everyone else is going to pay.

Unguarded snapshots

I'm not really sure where this new project is leading, but we are continually told that the BRIC countries are going to have a big impact upon our lives. So I have a vague feeling that I ought to make an effort to find out about these places / peoples / political philosophies. But how do you do that?

In one sense you could just stay in London and the world will come to you. And if anyone from a BRIC country wants to meet me for a coffee in London just send me an e-mail (andrewamesbury@live.co.uk). But how much will that tell us (for instance, the minority of Americans who make the effort to come to Europe are not at all representative of the general American population).

You could physically visit the countries, but I don't have the time, and don't really have the money, and how much do you learn about a country from a superficial trip?

Therefore I have started dipping into flickr, looking at unguarded snapshots.



Above: http://www.flickr.com/photos/heder/

A car on a dusty road. Tropical vegetation. Low sun - is this the swift twilight of the tropics?

I think this is in Acre in north-west Brazil. The capital is Rio Branco. The Amazon rainforest covers all of the state.



Above: http://www.flickr.com/photos/kavabunga/4439113776/

I love this photograph - the simple colours, the natural light, the sense of ennui.

It is taken in Moscow, but the photographer comes from Perm in the federal region of Perm Krai on the western European plain. The city is first mentioned in the 12th century chronicle Povest vremennykh let. In Pasternack's Dr Zhivago Perm is fictionalised as the city of Yuriatin (Юрятин).

The photographer has also travelled in Adygeya (in the Caucasus). It's a land of forests and mountains. There is a "national epic" - the Nart of Adygei

More: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Music_of_Adygea



Above: http://www.flickr.com/photos/kirankgone/4399811967/

A scene in Andhra Pradesh in the south east of India. The man in the foreground looks as implacable and immoveable as the stones around him. His scarf seems to match the shirt of his colleague.

Andhra Pradesh includes the beautiful city of Hyderabad. Telugu is the official language. The culture has produced many notable poets including Gunturu Seshendra Sarma.

More: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gunturu_Seshendra_Sarma



Above: http://www.flickr.com/photos/gaobo/5109823103/

The photograph was taken at the Shanghai Expo but the photographer comes from Anhui (安徽). I like the ultramodern look to this urban view - they could be in the tube station at Westminster. I also like the expression of quiet contemplation on face of the girl on the left.

Anhui (安徽) is a state in eastern China. The Yangtze river runs through it. Mount Huangshan (first celebrated by the poet Li Bai) is a World Heritage Site.

More: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mount_Huangshan

Not an impartial observer

On the Today programme this morning Peter Mandelson appeared. He was asked about a survey carried out by the Legatum Institute which monitors "international feelings of wellbeing". Apparently the United Kingdom is not scoring very highly on this index, which seems to record the propensity of national populations for whistling in the dark.

Peter Mandelson was then asked about domestic politics and he did his usual trick of pretending to be impartial while at the same time being extremely partisan.

The interview then discussed Hannah Rothschild's forthcoming television documentary on Peter Mandelson. Although ostensibly a factual record, it is apparently a highly edited and mediated hagiography. The Review Show (formerly Newsnight Review) said that Hannah Rothschild was not an impartial observer - her documentary could more accurately be described as propaganda.

More: http://www.guardian.co.uk/politics/2010/oct/15/revealing-documentary-unguarded-side-lord-mandelson

Sky Press Preview

Above: Wayne Rooney is presenting a new series on Sky 1, so it was unusual for him to get such negative coverage in the Sky Press Preview.

Last night, as I was prevaricating about whether to go to bed or not (this was about 11.30pm), I switched over onto the Press Preview on Sky News.

Guardian journalist Julie Bindel was giving the review, chatting to the Sky presenter (whose name I didn't catch) about the Daily Mail. Then they changed onto the topic of Wayne Rooney, and rubbished his recent performance as a footballer (Julie Bindel coyly hinting she might be a Manchester United supporter, although she refused to confirm this when pressed). Both the presenter and Julie Bindel said they couldn't see the point of hanging on to Wayne Rooney (ignoring any cultural significance he might have).

Is the Guardian newspaper waging some kind of campaign against Wayne Rooney?

Noises off

This morning as I listened to Evan Davis interview Business Secretary Vince Cable on the Today programme on BBC Radio 4, there were "noises off" - thuds, thumps and what sounded like shouting. I wondered if protesters had managed to infiltrate Broadcasting House and were attempting to get on air. I discounted the possibility of an attempted coup.

Armour

Above: after lunch I drove to the south west of the county. In one of the churches was this tremendous monument which seemed to be an example of the "northern renaissance" (the moment when the medieval world became modern). Debased classic pilasters, medieval heraldry, archaic inscriptions.



Above: the Steward let me go into the Sanctuary to look closer at the heraldry. Notice the double helmet above the coat of arms - this arrangement is more usually associated with German heraldry (indicating that the knight held more than one fiefdom). These sorts of "closed helms" are often associated with jousting.

A cup of tea was offered, and then a big slice of home-made raspberry jam sponge cake (the jam home-made as well). We discussed the way the rood staircase was built into the thickness of the north wall. Church finances were a problem ("It costs about four thousand a year to run, which is getting expensive, but some years we can raise up to fourteen thousand so we mustn't grumble...").



Above: at another church they had an actual knight's helmet, kept very high up on a ledge (I had to clamber up on top of a table tomb to take this picture). It was part of a full suit of armour that had been found in one of the tombs about a hundred years ago. The helmet type is known as bascinet.



Above: the various forms of knight's helmets. Wealthy knights would often have several suits of armour - fighting armour, jousting armour, showing-off armour. You had to be physically very fit to function in a complete suit of armour.

Feeling guilty about the disruption I had caused - the past week at work

Monday

I got up feeling cold, the weather damp and chilly.

I decided last night to leave my job (which I have only been in for a couple of weeks), and resolved to definitely hand in my resignation today. I wondered how it would be received. In some ways I hoped I would be ordered out of the agency so I could go home again.

My usual train was cancelled so I got to the office half an hour late.

Everyone at the agency was busy and my late arrival went unremarked. On my desk I found a brief for a press release which I drafted in about an hour. Account Exec Sara told me about Sunday evening - she had got mildly drunk with friends and then gone to see The Social Network ("I had double-vision so really I saw it twice...").

I felt very apprehensive about resigning. It was unnerving trying to catch Villy (Director and Owner of the agency) on his own. Eventually I had to ask straight out if I could talk to him and we went into the Conference Room.

He was astounded by the news I was leaving, and tried to talk me out of it, saying he would match any other salary I had been offered. Eventually I convinced him I was serious and he asked me to work until the end of the week. As we stood up we shook hands.

"Being indecisive is not one of your problems" he told me (if only he knew the truth!).

Back at my desk my new business cards had arrived - I surreptitiously put them in the bin.

Lunchtime I walked round the local shops and bought a huge piece of bread pudding from a bakers. I took it into the little park to eat (standing up as all of the cast iron benches were wet). When I went back to the office I could tell that everyone knew about my resignation.

In the afternoon I wrote copy for a brochure about an innovative new piece of office machinery.

When 5pm arrived it was a relief to get away from the agency - feeling guilty about all the disruption I have caused.

Tuesday

Most of the day I continued writing the brochure copy. At one point I rang the client to ask questions ("it's the guts of hi-tech office automation" he told me). I discussed the overall design of the brochure with art director Tranter - typically he wanted the brochure to be all pictures and hardly any copy.

In the afternoon account executive Maery asked me to do some copywriting. She pointed out the flat in the parade opposite where she had lived with Villy when they had been "together". Whenever I went into the downstairs office the two women looked at me reproachfully, as if I had betrayed them.

Wednesday

The chilly weather makes changing trains unpleasant. I have become dependent on coffee bought from the little kiosk as I wait fifteen minutes. Drifts of soggy golden leaves everywhere.

Bored most of the day.

I talked to Sara in the kitchen about our what each of us would do after we had left the agency.

The afternoon I spent thinking up headlines with Villy - I praised his efforts even though they were not very good.

Thursday

Another press release waiting on my desk when I arrived. I tried to string it out as long as possible so that I would not have something more boring to do. I went out to Starbucks mid-morning.

Unexpectedly the IT client at my last agency returned my call and asked me to take a brief tomorrow. This pleased Villy a great deal (I suppose he thought some good would come of my time at the agency). We got various publications to e-mail the ads the IT client had placed recently.

In the afternoon some media research.

In the evening was the annual agency staff dinner (they have it in October as things are less hectic than at Christmas). Both Vinny and Maery insisted that I was still part of the agency and should join them, which was kind. I waited around uselessly in the office for an hour before travelling up to central London.

At The Capital hotel in Knightsbridge I met the others in the bar and Villy ordered champagne (£60 a bottle). Into the restaurant which was a long cube. I sat between Maery and Sara (who had somehow made her blonde hair stand up on end).

Villy decided we would all have the "tasting menu" (£70 per head, paid for by the agency). This meant eating the foi gras with truffle sauce, which I would not normally touch since it is so cruelly produced. But what could I do? I could hardly offend them by refusing it when they were being so nice to me. I was treated as if I were the guest of honour. Again I felt guilty about leaving.

Friday

Most of the morning Maery and I spent talking to the IT client from my ex-agency. I had forgotten what a slob he was, sitting in his office surrounded by attractive young women. I knew exactly what sort of ads he wanted to run and was not surprised when he awarded us the campaign.

"You were brilliant" said Maery afterwards, but I have learned to discount her exaggerated praise.

Back at the agency I spent the afternoon writing the copy for the ads.

Then five o'clock arrived. Everyone was extremely nice about saying goodbye. It was a relief to be finally out of the place, feeling guilty about the disruption I had caused.

Saturday

Despite my ban on working at weekends I got up at eight to read up on my new job - skim-reading heaps of reports.

I stopped at 12.30 to watch Dateline London; Michael White attacking Wayne Rooney (what's Wayne ever done to upset him?).

Afterwards the weather forecast with Tomasz Schafernaker, the first time he has appeared (that I have seen) for weeks. He gave a perfect performance, frequently leaning to one side so you could see the whole picture, using his arms to indicate the rapid movement of rainclouds. Slightly accented pronunciation of some words ("Monday" and "next").

White horses

Recently I have been thinking about white horses.



Above: earlier in the year I was driving with a friend through some of the more obscure villages of the north of the county. We came down a gentle hill and saw these two white horses in a field on the edge of the lane and we had to stop and go up to them. Which has made me ask ever since: what is it about a white horse that arrests the attention.

They are beautiful, but other horses are also beautiful.

Is there some encoded message in our culture that tells us to pay attention when we see a white horse?



Above: ancient thatched pub in a market town in the centre of the county. The pub is called Ye OLDE White Horse, indicating it was old even by the reckoning of our forefathers. Much work needs to be done on the origin of pub names, but often they were the meeting places of retinues, factions, gangs, secret societies, fraternities, guilds etc.

Did some prehistoric clan of the white horse have its drinking hall on this spot, by this important river crossing, ten or eleven millennia ago?



Above: paintings of white horses in a display of amateur art. Why are white horses so favoured? Even the sun throws down a kindly ray of light upon these representations (obviously white horses become dazzling in full sunshine).



Above: the white horse used as a brand name. As a whisky drinker I like the blended versions. Apart from Isle of Jura I don't really care for the single malts.



Above: pictorial representations of white horses have been carved into the sides of chalk hills throughout the southern half of England. Their ritual maintenance is associated with a significant body of folklore. Again one has to ask: what is going on here?

The Uffington white horse: http://www.nationaltrust.org.uk/main/w-chl/w-countryside_environment/w-archaeology/w-archaeology-places_to_visit/w-archaeology-uffington_white_horse.htm

1960s children's series (black and white) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iR6z8GUywyc

More: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/White_Horse_(whisky)

Winter fuel payments

Interesting article on the Institute of Fiscal Studies website about winter fuel payments: http://www.ifs.org.uk/publications/5308

The benefit is interesting in that it is universal, is payable to households, and is also specific in purpose.

However in the arguments for and against the authors Thomas Crossley and Cormac O'Dea overlook the point that the benefit indirectly encourages families to look after elderly relatives (instead of selfishly off-loading them onto the state). In that respect it contributes to family cohesion. It would be interesting to see studies that asked whether increasing the benefit would result in more elderly relatives being looked after in a family context.

PS although in favour of universal benefits I am not sure people on salaries of £44k pa need to get child benefits. Also Ed Miliband should not be using PMQs to argue for RICH people (as those on £44k undoubtedly are) to get even more money. As a sob story it was entirely unconvincing and sounded opportunistic.

Repetition builds reputation

Returned from the conference.   I drove back with Sara (Account Exec), in her car.  The journey took nearly four hours, and every ten minutes or so she played Joe McElderry's Ambitions ("let's just play it one more time...").  So I have heard this song about twenty four times.   A fundamental premise of advertising is:  Repetition builds reputation.    I'm not sure I had any thoughts about Joe McElderry before today.  I don't watch X-Factor, and don't like the disposable way Simon Cowell picks up proteges and then drops them.  But I am impressed that Joe McElderry can make a reasonably intelligent woman of twenty-two play his song repeatedly in a way that can only be described as obsessed.   More:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3IpuMo7_eVc&feature=channel

Conference

As well as being overwhelmed with work at the moment, I am going to be at a conference in the north west (on the coast) for the next few days.   So no blogging.   Staying at conference hotels is the only time I allow myself fried bread for breakfast (with sausages, fried eggs, fried bacon, black pudding etc).

Sheep Fair

Note: I wrote this at great speed yesterday, which is why I have to keep going back and correcting errors. It also has not really conveyed my true feelings about the event. On Question Time two weeks ago Professor David Starkey said that politicians had generally stopped "venerating the Shires". This is a big mistake, as the majority of English people mentally live in the Shires (including suburbia in the classification "urban" is culturally ignorant - the whole ethos of suburbia is anti-urban). If Ed Miliband is serious about connecting with "middle England" he needs to be seen at events like this (David Cameron does this already). And give serious support to the Rare Breeds Society.



Above: this is a blog post that is a week late, and relates to my visit last Sunday to a Sheep Fair in the south east of the county. The Fair has been held annually for the past seven hundred and seventy-two years. The Fair is held in a small village on the stone belt (Jurassic limestone).



Above: on the way to the Fair I was a bit concerned about how "authentic" it would be. Many village festivals have become tourist attractions for townies trying to get in touch with their "roots". As I parked my car in a bumpy field I was reassured by the amount of mud everywhere - it seemed to be a guarantee of "authenticity".



Above: I got there about 3pm when the light was already beginning to fade (the rain clouds made the sky overcast, adding to the gloom). I looked at the various signs, wondering what I should see first. Very fine light rain (hardly noticable) was falling.



Above: I walked through the funfair which was brash and gaudy. Hundreds of children. I was reminded of Scott Fitzgerald's comment about the magical appearance of funfairs when seen from a distance at dusk.



Above: this stall selling "old fashioned fairings" did make me wonder if the event was becoming a self-conscious heritage parody of itself. But this was the only twee item I saw all afternoon. Also most of the people seemed to be locals who knew each other (perhaps I was the only outsider?).



Above: in the church hall was a demonstration of spinning. All of the spinners kept sheep. One sheep farmer (out of shot) told me "When I started I had two Norfolk Horn sheep - which was twenty per cent of the total in existence!" We talked about the Rare Breeds Trust.



Above: there was a display of wool from the different sheep. I was interested in the Jacob wool as we have several blankets at home made from Jacob wool. There were also samples of raw wool and explanations about how it is processed.



Above: I walked on to the market place where there was a big representation of a sheep on the official Fair stall surrounded by vases of flowers (this picture was taken from the back of the stall). Sheep have always been important to the economy of the south east of the county. Seeing this arrangement made me think of the golden calf set up by the Israelites on Mount Sinai.



Above: to one side of the market place the drummers were drumming. Ritual drumming has been practised since Neolithic times, and is supposed to drive out evil spirits. According to Sir James Frazer drumming was also used to initiate higher states of consciousness.



Above: a band of black-faced morris assembled. They wear costumes made from coloured ribbons with pheasant feathers in their hats. The rain had stopped by this time.



Above: as the band began to play two lines of morris dancers, holding staves, began a performance. They went on for about half an hour. I was impressed by the antiquity of this scene - such dances have probably been performed on this spot since the first Sheep Fair nearly eight hundred years ago.



Above: I walked along to the church, which was on a ridge of ground overlooking the village centre. Described by Pevsner as a Perpendicular and Decorated ensemble. The dedication is to St John the Evangelist.



Above: inside it was decorated for Harvest Festival. Every ledge and flat surface held arrangements of vegetables, fruits and autumn flowers. Improving texts accompanied the displays.



Above: the great east window had a representation of Jesus as the Good Shepherd, carrying a lamb and a shepherd's crook.



Above: on the walls of the nave, just below the clerestory, were medieval wall paintings featuring shepherds and their sheep. These paintings, discovered in 1939, are of international importance. Obviously the keeping of sheep was (and is) of great cultural significance in the locality.



Above: walking back down to the centre of the village I saw this stall selling mutton stew. I briefly considered trying some, then decided against it (I only had limited time to spare). The supermarkets are obsessed with selling lamb - there is no reason why they should not also sell mutton.



Above: as I walked back to my car I saw the sheep pens in the fields ready for the following day.



Above: later at home I reread Hardy's Sheep Fair.

The office plays Magic Radio - the past week at work

Monday

Only five hours sleep.

In the agency I finished some copywriting then continued the process of 'phoning my former clients, with mixed results. As I expected, my financial services newsletter client has come over. I feel a little guilty about all this since I really don't expect to be in this job very long.

Director Villy not in today, which made things relaxed.

Trainee account exec Sara, who is on notice, was very bitter about how Villy has treated her ("He just expected me to leave without any notice but I told him I wasn't having that..."). From comments made by the other staff it seems that Villy and Sara had a brief relationship about six months ago and now can't work together. I listened to what she said but don't want to get involved.

Account executive Maery asked me to do some copywriting for her insurance client.

"It's brilliant" she said, when I gave her the finished result.

However the copywriting hadn't been brilliant, and I had struggled to do it. So why did she seem so pleased with it? It seems I can do no wrong where Maery is concerned.

Tuesday

Director Villy was already in the office when I arrived, panicking over a campaign that had just come in ("It's big and bloody"). Compared to Yvette's hysterical rantings this little performance from Villy was relatively mild. Nevertheless I have become wary of people who can't control themselves.

Everyone in the office became involved in getting the campaign booked and the creative rationale worked out.

Later, when I was alone with Sara, we discussed Villy's tantrum. "I think he's schizophrenic" she said. Certainly he seems to over-promise to clients things his agency can't really deliver.

Wednesday

Most of the day spent with Sara discussing her clients (I am taking over her client list when she leaves).

The only coffee in the office is decaffinated, so I broke a personal rule and went out to Starbucks.

Thursday

Copywriting most of the day.

The office plays Magic Radio all day, which is distracting.

Director Villy had an argument with arrogant Art Director Tranter.

Later in the afternoon I didn't have much to do. I thought about the agency and decided I didn't want to stay there. So how do I extricate myself?

Friday

Just as I got to my desk this morning my mobile 'phone rang. Unexpectedly I was being offered a job (from an interview I went to several weeks ago). I went down to the street to continue the call.