"I'm sorry, but your shirt is absolutely hideous..."

What on earth made me utter such a rude and insulting comment to a complete stranger at a drinks party, glass in one hand, canape in the other? Well, that's a good question! My mate Sarah and I were invited to a rather 'odd' drinks party in a converted chandelier factory in Covent Garden on Saturday afternoon. The party was unusually, not what it seemed... we were actually taking part in a piece of 'performance art' called CLUB CLASS, the brainchild of FrenchMotteshead, two artists.

Two groups of people attended the party: participants, who had attended a workshop beforehand (focusing on clothing, surveillance, body language or clothing) which encouraged them to experiement with new ways of behaviour; and guests, who came along for a drink (and a laugh I reckon!) They describe Club Class as, "a performance experience that invites particpants to explore the unwritten rules that govern social conduct." Having attended a "micro-class" with 12 arty-types we were encouraged to subvert our regular body language by tranforming the way we behaved.

The day sought to "challenge each participant to experience the possibilities of what it's like to be different", and we certainly did that! Our workshop on body language saw us practising gestures (think Touretts on a good day), changing the volume of your voice, playing with distance between you and another person... there was also the odd cartwheel and someone pretending to be a dog, (stay with me!)

The drinks party was surreal. Walking in, we didn't know who were guests and who were participants like us. I knew that some people had been at a "bad behaviour" workshop, and this was slightly worrying. I went straight for a drink and got chatting to a lady from the V&A, who at first glance was quite normal. We made small talk, until I plucked up the courage to try out something new... I decided to edge closer to her to see what her reaction would be... she didn't like it!

By this stage, Sarah was talking to a man whose drink had just been spat in! At that moment a girl pushed past a guy, spilling his drink and leaving him, apology-less, with a bewildered look on his face. It was crazy. I can't really explain it any better than that...

I guess the best part of the day was that it gave us permission to act, perform (read misbehave!) in a safe environment. Knowing there was a penchant for bad behaviour, I strangely enjoyed tapping a grown man on the shoulder, and boldly proclaiming "I'm sorry but your shirt is ABSOLUTELY hideous!" To which he replied, "Thank you very much for the advice."

I felt empowered, free to subvert my normal polite behaviour, and perform for a stranger. The day made me understand quite how self-conscious I am in my behaviour. We all bow to social convention, sub-consciously I'm sure, and to step outside of that was as freeing as walking down Oxford Street naked... don't get any ideas, I'm not that crazy!

Club Class is open to the public at the Tate Modern on 7 October, and ICA on 24 February 2007. For more info see www.frenchmottershead.com. If you fancy a change from the old 9-5, why not give it a go...

Spoilt for the ordinary

Loren Cunningham writes in one of his books about how travelling overseas and seeing what God is doing in different places can leave you feeling 'spoilt for the ordinary'. I've been pondering this phrase as I try to find my feet and settle back into my 'old life' in London. The thing is, it's not my old life anymore... things move on and I've changed, my perspective has shifted, ever-so-slightly. My mind is full of people I met when I was away, women mainly who as I type this are living lives so far removed from a soya latte and a pret sandwich for lunch.

Today I had a meeting in a park over lunch. My colleague and I sat under an enormous tree, shading us through dappled leaves from the intense heat. We talked and ate... my friend's lunch was blown away by a gust of wind leaving her to chase after it as I laughed and rescued my own.

How can I reconcile my day with a woman in Chennai whose bed is a pile of sand... A young girl in North Korea who is forced to marry a man twice her age... A woman in a remote area of rural China whose sole possession is a tin pot to cook rice in.

Tough questions, and I don't pretend to have the answers. I just hope I never forget them.

The Good Women of China

Brought up by the red guards during the cultural revolution in China, Xinran was taught to disregard her parents as her 'true family' and pledge alligance first and foremost to the Chinese government. Years later, working as a journalist, she is given the opportunity to present a groundbreaking radio programme for women. For eight years she gave a voice to hundreds of women in China, for whom an outlet for their stories was previously unavailable.

"The Good Women of China" is Xinran's account of these eight years interviewing and speaking openly with Chinese women about their lives, and what it meant to be female in modern China. Speaking honestly about their roles as daughters, wives, mothers, secretaries, escorts, the book gently and heartbreakingly paints a colourful and ocassionally dark grey portrait of what it means to be a women in China.

Xinran opens up a world of stories that are at once painful and fascinating... a girl whose father sexually abuses her sees no release other than making herself ill, until she slowly dies of blood poisoning in hospital. University students from poor backgrounds act as 'escorts' to businessmen, receiving money and attention, but tragically not the love they require.
Early in the book Xinran tells of a conversation with a friend...

--
'Xinran', he said, 'have you ever been inside a sponge cake factory?'
'No' I replied, confused.
'Well, I have, so I never eat sponge cake.' He suggested that I try visitng a bakery to see what he meant.
--

On seeing the less-than-hygenic way the cakes were baked, Xinran could never look at a sponge cake ever again.

If you read this book, you will never think of Chinese women in the same way again.

More pix from the wedding!

Alison & Alex's Wedding

Alison & Alex's Wedding

Alison & Alex's Wedding

Air Display - Red Arrows

Alison & Alex's Wedding

Alison & Alex's Wedding

Alison & Alex's Wedding

Fancy an ice cold Coke?

Well, if you live in Kerala (South India), you won't be able to get one for love or money. The state government announced today that they are banning sales of Coca cola and Pepsi, due to fears over pesticide levels in the ubiquitous fizzy drinks. An independent lab has apparently found high levels of the poison in the drinks!

Rice dream

Yep, I've named this post after a particularly disgusting-tasting rice drink, which is another one of those 'milk substitutes'. Why on earth people can't just like soya milk, I'm really not sure.

Anyway, what I was actually going to say is that my stomach hates me at the moment. It's making all these growling noises and feeling sore when I wake up, when I eat, when I don't eat, at night... you get the picture. I couldn't work out what was going on, until yesterday I ate Chinese food, and guess what? I felt fine. A-ok. Super-douper. No pain. Now, get what I'm saying here, my body has become so accostomed to Chinese food, especially rice, that I can't get used to my 'regular' London diet of cous cous, salad, veggies, pasta, brown toast etc. Oh no, that makes me ill!

I can honestly say that having spent six months longing to get back to my normal food, this revelation is pretty depressing. A friend who lived in Singapore for about the same amount of time told me today that it took her body 12 months to get used to eating British food, especially bread, her stomach couldn't take it. Hmmm. I feel a dumpling coming on...

Spam spam

I have a gmail account, which is great, and I'm particularly fond of the search feature. However, gmail has intelligent advertising that scans my messages and 'helpfully' provides me with links to external sites, more often than not, selling rubbish. Let me give you an example... I'm bridesmaid for a friend and my sister this summer, and we've been emailing about dressees/shoes etc, all girly stuff. So the links I'm given are all related to bridesmaid clothes/accessories and wedding sites. Spot on if you think about it.

Recently, things have taken a siniser turn. Almost every message I open is headed with a link to a recipe site... Now, I enjoy cooking, so there's nothing odd about that in itself, but ALL these recipes are for dishes made with Spam. Yes, Spam, that jelly-covered, pretending to be meat tinned lump of gunk that people ate during the war. Thing is, I'm kinda curious, so I've been checking out some of the recipes, and they're actually for pretty trendy food... 'Spam Mexican Tortilla Wrap', 'Warm Spam and Lemon Couscous salad'. But who in their right mind would ruin a perfectly good dish with a tin of Spam? I have no idea, but it's getting freaky... there are LOADS of these things. I'm trying to ignore them.

Fiends Reunited

In a fit of procrastination, I recently logged on to Friends Reunited... It's not something I do often, and I soon remembered why. A girl from my form at secondary school is married with three children and... get this, owns her own hammer factory employing 25 men!! Another, rather odd girl, is engaged and has started a business with her boyfriend selling sex toys on the internet. Right. And what am I supposed to have in common with these people? I guess we're all different, and I should be grateful for that, but I was kinda freaked... I'll stick to clicking 'next blog' when I'm bored.

Everything will be alright in the end...

... and if it's not alright, it's not the end.

My lovely friend Lizzy says this all the time, and she's SO right. When things go wrong and we get stressed, we often can't remember what happened a few months down the line. At the moment life is in a state of flux... I feel unsettled, like a fish swimming round and round a familiar bowl longing to get to the river, but not knowing where to jump to. I'm back home, yet home feels elusive, like I've outgrown it. Relationships change, people move on, and life progresses, the world keeps on turning whether I'm here or not. I read the Guardian Media 100 and felt more and more frustrated that I didn't know half of the names, I'm so behind with popular trivia! Yet in all of this I know that my perspective will change, life will seem easier and I'll feel at home again soon. I just hope that day comes soon.

The little things

I'm alone, sipping red wine on the couch on Saturday night. An inadequate breeze floats in occasionally from three sash windows and it's hot and sticky. I'm tired, so exhausted that I can't imagine being chirpy ever again. I guess six months away takes its toll and I've been pretty busy since I got back (as the pix show). Luckily I have the flat to myself, two luxurious floors of quiet space just for me... I've been enjoying having my own living room again, and sleeping in my own bed. It's amazing how the little things can bring great relief. Someone just rang the doorbell, but I'm not answering. I can't think who would be here to see me at this time of night. They can wait, outside my zone of conscious thought. Tomorrow is Sunday, a day of rest, and I'm looking forward to it already.

Ooo I do like a cuppa tea

The people I lived with in Singapore thought I was really English. Every time I made a cup of tea, they'd say 'Ooo the English do like drinking tea!' I'd agree, but the joke wore a bit thin after every time boiling the kettle (and let's face it, the kettle got more use than it had ever seen before!)

Back in London some friends organised a welcome home drinks party for me. Peering through my jetlag I managed to stay awake until about 10pm, when the effect of the mojitos started getting a little too much... until, just what I needed, a good cup of tea...

Wedding 2

Lizzy's Hen Weekend

David & Jenny's Wedding