A morning spent knocking over aisle displays in the shopping emporia of Islington. What fun! It's infuriating how many shops have clearly been laid out in order to give the correct widths and turning spaces to enable a wheelchair user to negotiate the space with ease, only to have the branch manager or some other plank clutter every last piece of floor space with displays of tat that no-one really wants.
You can tell that it's stuff no-one really wants, as it doesn't warrant a proper shelf space. It's usually hilarious knick-knacks containing any of the following words- golfer, Dad/Mum/any other relative, friend, willy, best, chocoholic, worst, shot, party, imbecilic, symptom of the worst excesses of our wasteful, consumption obsessed economy, etc.
I took a break from arranging these aisle displays under my wheels and went for a coffee and a sandwich at a well-known sandwich chain that rhymes with get-a-sponger (well, almost). Having purchased my food and hot coffee, I realise that all the 'eat-in' spaces consist of high stools and shelves at my eye level. I grumbled at the staff, though it's not really their fault, and they offered to help me with anything I might need. A nice offer, but I couldn't see them getting out a jigsaw and a hammer, so I declined graciously.
Then I spent five minutes playing the get the sugar and spoon into the cup of scalding coffee game. The one where you try and keep the hot liquid out of your eye/ off your lap while still managing to drink it and look nonchalant at the same time. I am indebted to my time spent playing wheelchair basketball, as I can now hit a three-pointer with a sachet of sugar with relative ease.
The coffee fired my system up enough to enjoy the neon display on a hoarding in Upper Street which is an aesthetically pleasing version of a left-brain/right brain test which highlights something called the Stroop effect (no, nothing to do with how many waffles you can eat. One for any Belgian readers, there).
The idea is that you have to read the colours and not the words...
Suffice to say I got them all right, then ran over three people waiting at the pedestrian lights before dropping off the kerb and causing a delivery van driver to have kittens.
You can tell that it's stuff no-one really wants, as it doesn't warrant a proper shelf space. It's usually hilarious knick-knacks containing any of the following words- golfer, Dad/Mum/any other relative, friend, willy, best, chocoholic, worst, shot, party, imbecilic, symptom of the worst excesses of our wasteful, consumption obsessed economy, etc.
I took a break from arranging these aisle displays under my wheels and went for a coffee and a sandwich at a well-known sandwich chain that rhymes with get-a-sponger (well, almost). Having purchased my food and hot coffee, I realise that all the 'eat-in' spaces consist of high stools and shelves at my eye level. I grumbled at the staff, though it's not really their fault, and they offered to help me with anything I might need. A nice offer, but I couldn't see them getting out a jigsaw and a hammer, so I declined graciously.
Then I spent five minutes playing the get the sugar and spoon into the cup of scalding coffee game. The one where you try and keep the hot liquid out of your eye/ off your lap while still managing to drink it and look nonchalant at the same time. I am indebted to my time spent playing wheelchair basketball, as I can now hit a three-pointer with a sachet of sugar with relative ease.
The coffee fired my system up enough to enjoy the neon display on a hoarding in Upper Street which is an aesthetically pleasing version of a left-brain/right brain test which highlights something called the Stroop effect (no, nothing to do with how many waffles you can eat. One for any Belgian readers, there).
The idea is that you have to read the colours and not the words...
Suffice to say I got them all right, then ran over three people waiting at the pedestrian lights before dropping off the kerb and causing a delivery van driver to have kittens.
Have never got on with the high stool/shelf arrangement myself, as the foot bar to seat ratio can make balancing on the stool even for us able bodied bi-peds a bit precarious, especially if you unzip your coat in situ and it has a slippery lining......
I could go on... a bad idea all round I find.
I think Leon has normal height chairs at their windows (well the one behind the Tate does) and Wagamamas window seats are normal height stool too, which I far prefer and can actually relax at.Bar stools are stressful!
I have just finished reading your book after meeting you at your open studio's, and now feel a bit bereft. You couldn't humour me and write a sequel? Anyway, pleased to find your blog and continue to benefit from your humour and view on the world, ta!
I still keep thinking of your rooftop drawing, wondering if you sold it, and ways of scraping together enough cash......
I am totally envious of your studio space!