Don't Die Until You're Dead

The day started with a programme about my favourite comedian, Billy Connolly. I've always loved him. Although I wasn't allowed to watch Grange Hill as a kid (my mother's decision) Dad insisted that I could watch Connolly. There was always something forbidden, almost subversive about him. He was probably the first person I heard say the f word. Even though he was from the West Coast, he was one of us. The house was filled with laughter when an LP (a 12 inch grooved sound disc made of vinyl) of one of his standup shows was on.

My Dad went off him when he got really famous. "He's lost his hard edge, forgotten where he's come from" he would say. My dad was wrong. We all change. I'm definite I wouldn't have Rosemary if I still went down the pub, had 5 pints and 20 Marlboro lights each weekend evening and liked football. Some would say that was being true to my roots.

I like Connolly because I can relate to him. I feel I know how he thinks, seeing the world in a similar way. He was the inspiration for something I wrote in a coaching book (so surprised it got past the editor). A coach will always be successful if they can connect with people, get inside their head and attempt to understand what makes them tick. Billy, if you read this, I know you ride a bike....

I rode my bike. Down in the basement room on my turbo. Only 30 minutes as I didn't want to waste the benefit of my massage yesterday. Intensity was sufficient to get a sweat up but not to be tired. Then, I had a proper cooked lunch. A black bean concoction with sweet tattie patties!

Irony. A trip to the Lowry followed. A Peter Blake exhibition was on but I had to fight through the hoards who were here to see Britain's got Talent.

I preferred the Katherine Green photographic exhibition to Blake. She had documented the people who use the Lowry. Old, young, originating from all over the place but living in manchester. I sense politics here. The images demonstrated how arts can outreach to the community at large, not just for the quasi middle classes...and make positive changes to people's lives. Green had done a fine job, using massive vignetting to highlight the people in her photographs.

Peter Blake. Images so iconic, so clearly pop, so influential that their impact seemed diluted. I much preferred the paintings that didn't include famous people...maybe because I hadn't seen them before.

I then headed off to Chorlton to get a few bits n bobs from Unicorn. I love that shop...no need to read the labels because all the food is proper, not 'manufactured'. Hmmm, Black Cat ginger cake as my pre-swim energy boost.

I saw this wee lonely clown in a charity shop window in Chorlton. Does it become a crazy clown when no one is looking? I wonder. I'm now sitting in the Cornerhouse having a coffee before swimming. I've just spoken with rosemary and although she won her race, in a pair with Lucy, she crashed and I suspect she's gonna be very sore tomorrow.

Anyway, I've written enough for the day and suspect no one wants a full report on my swimming session....so outta here. C'ya.