Kulchure

It's the Glasgow West End Festival at the moment, and, apart from all the bars having late licences, there's some other stuff going on.

Sunday was the opening parade - a bizarre mixture of marching Salsa bands, drummers, more belly dancers than you could shake a, um, belly, at, a burlesque troupe, kids dressed as flowers and ladybirds, pursued by a giant caterpillar, a Boys Brigade band (looking a bit forlorn and plain, but clearly ready to break into The Sash if encouraged to do so) and Kevin the War Dog.

It was all incredibly good natured, though I think there must have been a lot of sun-burnt belly dancers that night.

Last night Unblinkered and I were at an open air performance of Twelth Night  A Winter's Tale by the Globe touring company. It was put on in the University, with a stage set up on the hallowed turf of the East Quadrangle. There were maybe 100 spectators scattered across the grass on picnic rugs, chairs and perched on desks from the exam hall. I must admit that I didn't know the play at all well (except for THAT stage direction) and enjoyed it immensely. The setting added a bit of rough magic, with the University bell tolling the quarters, magpies squawking above the stage, and the great tree rustling above me. A cloud of midges started to descend at one point, but there was just enough wind to blow them away. The company were great - a little cross-dressing, a little knock-about, a little clowning. I got the feeling that there was nothing about the production that old Will would have minded, and much that he would have approved of.

Oh, I also picked up tickets yesterday for another play, which we're seeing on Saturday. I'll say no more about it till then, but I have three tickets. Unblinkered and I go free, but Merlin's cost £5...

Back on Line. Finally.

Well, BT have switched the broadband back on, a day early. VoIP still not working, and I can't be arsed checking BT Vision, but at least I can blog from home now, and answer emails which contain the word fuck. So I will.

Currently watching Germany sweep past Portugal in their Euro quarter final. On balance, Germany look worth it. I say this because they look like a decent, hard-working team who don't roll around on the ground crying when an opponent's shadow falls on them, and not because unblinkered will kick me otherwise. Although their goalie is now lying down for no readily apparent reason.

Fencing lessons continue to be the best bargain ever. Tuesday night there was a healthy 1:1 ratio between coaches and novices, and we got to try out epee and sabre. I liked sabre, despite the un-nerving feeling of blade on mask, and might not have got the point of epee. Sorry. I'm still keen on joining the club, and buying my starter kit. Unfortunately the bargain set I saw on the Leon Paul website doesn't include a lame or breeches, so will be closer to £400 than £250 - maybe I'll make my way up to it.

I didn't cycle to the fencing, partly because it was raining, and partly because work is starting to make demands outside my 9-5 contracted hours. Also, my friend and boss Paul has handed in his notice, off to seek his fortune in a small consultancy. This means the next two months will be a series of auditions for his replacement, and of the three internal candidates only one has an above room temperature IQ. Well, we'll see.

Forgot to mention that I went to see The Hulk on Friday - very silly, but acceptable. My little comic-geek heart glowed when Tim Roth exhibited Captain America power levels, after being given a shot of Super Soldier serum. It was interesting to see how the different  power levels were shown. One of my favourite moments from Frank Millers second stint on Daredevil was Cap's appearance, and the clear depiction of just how much more powerful he is than DD. The Avengers film should be a lot of fun.