One of those weeks

The image is of one of the 3 fates holding the thread of life. I feel like I've been threaded along it at great speed this week.
Ups and downs, and then ups again at work as we plan for how we survive the cuts - arts provision for vulnerable people has its own vulnerabilities. Tuesday night was the opening night of Bert Broomhead's exhibition in Sheffield - I met his daughter, the image of her mother, the most significant teacher of my life. I also met old school friends - lots of memories and some very beautiful and fascinating paintings. Wednesday night took me to a special film night at Haddon Hall. After all the contemporary films made there, the manager had tracked down a copy of the silent film, made in Hollywood, with Mary Pickford and Douglas Fairbanks.'Dorothy Vernon of Haddon Hall' rewrote history as we know it, but was a great historical (even hysterical, very slapstick in places) romantic comedy, with amazing sets clearly based on Haddon itself. The hero broke through the window of the room we were watching in at one point. Some of the scenes in the garden must have been filmed on location, but the theory is that they made faithful sets back in Hollywood for the interior scenes. On Thursday night Lester Simpson, who teaches our singing class in Bakewell, asked us to join with his Wirksworth choir for the launch of the new Coope, Boyes and Simpson CD. A great concert and a privilege to be involved. I also met Georgina Boyes ( selling the tickets) who is one of my heroes for her fantastic book on the history of the folk revival - The Imagined Village.
I have just got back from a concert organised by the Derbyshire Literature Festival - Mills and Chimneys - David Gibb and friends from Fleet Arts. A lovely experience - great songs, talented musicians - a real treat. And I met Berlie Doherty there, another hero, for her wonderful children's books set in Sheffield and Derbyshire.
Lots of ideas and inspiration - watch this space!

My old school

As often happens, something balanced out the misery I felt at being reminded of my schooldays. The letter in the Guardian last week brought back many negative memories and feelings about convent education. Coincidentally a friend who lives in Bakewell asked me if I had ever heard of a local artist called Bert Broomhead, as a retrospective exhibition of his work is being planned in Sheffield by his daughter. It was strange to have any teacher on maternity leave in a convent school, and even stranger that her artist husband should take over her classes. He looked like a classic St Ives idea of an artist - extremely tall and slim, with greying hair and beard,and bright blue eyes. He always wore a long rib-knit jumper and baggy cords with sandals. He was a wonderful teacher, treating us with patience and respect, something we weren't used to in our school lives. His wife was also the English teacher, and she was a huge influence on me. I chose to study English at University because of her, and what she taught me for A level carried me through the literature side of my degree. She introduced us to a wealth of different influences, and whilst I was very grateful that she was my teacher, I knew she was worthy of better schools. When I moved back to Bakewell I tried to get in touch with her, only to find she had recently moved away. We did reconnect, and a neighbour sent her round to see me one day when she was visiting Bakewell. Sadly she died suddenly a few years ago. Their daughter - the reason for the maternity leave - is now planning the exhibition and has set up a lovely website. I was lucky enough to buy one of his paintings at a sale at the local community centre some years ago, and I'm looking forward to seeing more of his work on display. I nearly bought their old house with my ex - wish I had, but glad I didn't in the circumstances.
And talking of exhibitions, my friend Keith who has the Low Horizons blog, is in Finland as I write for his exhibition opening!