"Hounds of Love"

I seem to be writing a bit about art at the moment. Not much but a bit. I've been thinking about it, too. I've come to the conclusion that I have a not particularly hidden desire to be an artist but no actual artistic persuasion. 

It's in there somewhere, though. I remember vividly the occasion when we went to see Kate Bush perform in Hammersmith (four years ago, now!) and I rang the Minx in the interval - after watching Bush perform the whole of 'The Ninth Wave' - and I was absolutely fizzing with creative energy. But it didn't last. 

I was reminded of that today when my copy of Bush's 'Hounds of Love' remaster landed on my doorstep. I'd managed to miss news of this 2018 reissue completely until my friend Tom highlighted it to me on Friday night. And now I'm excited to hear it all over again (with faint echoes of the creative fizz in myself).

It's funny to think that when I first heard 'The Ninth Wave' I was pretty unimpressed by it: bit folky, bit too acoustic, not my electronic bag. Now I think it's one of the best things ever recorded. 

I envy those people around me who are artists, who do create: the Minx, of course, Dom, and Simon, too. The last of these had an exhibition opening in Chorlton, this evening, so I met Charlie for a pizza at Double Zero (would deffo recommend), before heading along to The Creameries to see Simon's photos. 

I've said on here before how great is is to see your friends doing what they do well and a corollary to that is that the surprise and pleasure can come from the fact that once you're friends with someone, it can be easy to think they're just like you, to forget there's something different and special about them. I was bowled over by Simon's photos, this evening: I was chuffed to be his friend. 

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Reading: "Dinner at the Homesick Restaurant" by Anne Tyler.

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