Hackney Museum was just busy and buzzing all morning. The one mistake about the African Threads Hackney Style exhibition is that it is crammed into a small space. I know Hackney people,- Gawd bless ’em, gov- like to live on top of each other but the exhibition space is a danger area what with kiddies on the floor copying Adinkra and people getting in front of others viewing the video. There is too too much to internalise on one visit. It’s all free too. So repeat the visit.
Fashion and textiles design entrepreneur, Honey, guided us around the white area, the whatever area and we saw cotton looking like wool and bark being transformed into cloth and a nod to The East India Shipping Company. We are allowed as adults to feel the cloth, (V& A faint, ) and know we are amongst the history of people of colour with a thousand references to the nasty slave owners but a great emphasis on how Hackney was “back in the day”. Well, it was green fields and rich owners of mansions who wore wigs and employed servants and where did they go to the toilet?
We were at a textiles workshop where some mums came an hour late with their offspring. The advertising had been diverse and so no-one could be blamed but I did leave way ahead of time to give space to the little ones.
Out into the sunshine but only after I’d checked the well-presented exhibition in Hackney Central Library. And after I’d been issued with my coffee and cake reading club current book.
Straight into the Hackney Picture House with ten minutes to go before “SPECTRE” Well. last week I’d endured “Suffragette” but today there was that proper cinematic experience with LOUD music and trembling seats. For a fiver on my Silver Screen ancient membership I got to see the film, drink a hot chocolate and eat their biscuits. Well bargain as a London hot chocolate costs more than the tin. The staff are just welcoming and lovely, I’d say. Spectre is amazing to quote the world but it is in the old fashioned meaning of the word. It is nastily violent so I wonder why it’s a 12 A film. I mean I watched FGM videos so am used to huge violent scenes but a 12 year old except in a war zone or trekking through the Balkans is still innocent. I loved it all, came home fried my own delicious chips then sold a painting.
Exhausted but still kicking.
Strange how it’s kinda acceptable for grey James Bond to have a meaningful fling with a twenty something pouter. Talking of pouts my niece packed out of the world of Uni after two days (a record) and is about to have her self-esteem dragged to the ground as she flicks her locks at one modelling interview after another. Her mum and I have our wrinkly hands ready to catch her as she falls. Skyfall.