The last time I was in Leeds it was at least autumn, if not winter, and I was looking at prospective universities. I was going to apply for French and Business Studies. I stll think I'd've enjoyed the Business Studies bit, economics, psycology, filing, right up my street. But I actually didn't want to go to university at all, so it was academic where I looked, that is, they all looked academic to me and, therefore, not that inspiring. It was a colourless, chilly, damp day. And that's all I remember from my first trip to Leeds, and a kind of fear of the city, not Leeds in particular, but cities in general. So, not Leeds's fault at all.
There having not been the money in her family in the 1960s to send her to university, mother was de-ter-MINED that her children would get a degree. Each. Yes, I was bright, but it was only at university that I discovered just how un-academic I am. Staggeringly so, it turned out. Yes, I'm bright with logistics, plenty of EQ, can handle my finances. I can put up a two-metre, cast-iron curtain pole on my own, and the requisite baton, but I'm a terrible reader and to be an academic of any mark at all you need to be able to read, and read and blinking READ endlesss stuff. More stuff than you could if you stayed awake the whole time reading, getting someone to eat your meals for you so you could read a bit more.
There were undoubtedly intimations of this during my last year at school, yet I trotted to great northern educational establishments: UMIST, Keele, Nottingham, to have a look, a rising sense of... panic, I guess, about the whole pursuit. But both my brother and sister were at great northern educational establshments. I think it didn't even occur to me that there was any other way out. My brother is the genuinely academic one amongst us, like mother, and Kate and I were always in awe of his abilities... to read. And to write, actually, phenomenal, clear, exciting writing, both in content and style.
My second jaunt to Leeds is entirely different: early afternoon of an unseasonably fine day in spring. We take our possessions to our hotel and then we go exploring, finding the Carriageworks where we are due to do the show pretty quickly. The centre of Leeds is lovely, it turns out. Someone's been doing some renovations since I was last here. All very shiny and lovely. And the Carriageworks looks great too. And everyone's so friendly. But, of course, the best thing is that Bartelt and I have spotted two, yes, TWO Thai restaurants, which means that he's happy.... as happy as he gets, that is.
Over dinner I get onto Twitter. Yes, there I am, not talking to Bartelt, but looking at it flash past on my tiny phone, and I notice that The Paper Birds are at the Carraigeworks runnning a discussion about whither feminism within theatre, right now. Obviously, we've already ordered supper and we'd be very late even if we went straight there now, but I can watch the feed and tweet a few things. The long-and-the-short of it is that we meet them later in the pub and talk about feminism, the cuts in theatre, their next show, our current tour. I am only human and can be heard to curse Twitter, but I've been on it quite a lot for the show and it really is a pretty amazing way of findinig out, well, all sorts of things. And you might also get to meet interesting people who you otherwise might not, because of it.
We leave early-ish as tomorrow is a special day....
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