Culture Sunday

I don’t think I told you about my recent new… new? habit? pastime? prediliction? life thingy. I started going out on day trips on Sundays to do cultural things. Like visit an art gallery, or go on a picnic somewhere new, or go to a museum. Art galleries mostly. Because I like them, and always have a list of things I want to see but would often tend to let weekends be this kind of slushy mixture of ‘should do’s’ – like do housework, homework, work work, call people, and social stuff too. Not that social stuff is a ‘should do’, but it is often responsive – doing things and going to things that other people suggest. So I stumbled across the vaguely nostalgic notion of having a Sunday that has a day trip in it. Somehow like the well to do taking a Sunday drive to the hills for a picnic, in the 1920’s in a soft topped car, with lap rugs and cucumber sandwiches and lemonade – only I take the bus and walk, my clothing is not quite that glam, and I’ll settle for a coffee out. Cucumber in sandwiches tends to go slimy anyway I reckon. Sometimes I invite people along, sometimes I go alone. It’s a simple thing really, but knowing it’s part of the landscape of the weekend takes the uncertainty out of planning for that day and gives it a peaceful feel. Sometimes on a Sunday evening we do roast vegies and watch a DVD too – a nice low key way of easing out of the weekend and back into the week.

Filmy film – dance
A friend was involved in organising a Festival for the Reel Dance company, and it has some really (huh no pun intended) interesting films. I saw the Global Shorts, Dance moves, and documentaries. Saw a documentary on Josephine Barker and another on the birth of hip hop and it’s links to mambo. Made me want to be one of those brassy talking big haired lipstick wearing ladies who still go out dancing to live latin music with wrinkles and high heels. They seemed happier than the worn out hip hopsters with bandannas talking about the golden days of their youth back in the 80’s when they were hot on the tables, and left now with a paunch and some sweatshirts and a story noone wants to hear. Hard to go breakdance and feel cool when you’re 45 and a software programmer I guess – not many people can pull that off. Is that what they’ll hold for old people when we’re old? Social breakdancing classes where people moonwalk and robot dance and shake their RnB booties, slowly?