I went to town again this morning and didn’t feel wibbly on Sidwell St or anywhere else. Hurrah! I posted some mail and then visited the comics shop. I know, I swore I wouldn’t go again cos it makes me feel too weird, but if the damn epicheroes website had actually managed to get my subscribed comics order together I would have been spared the journey for my Batman fix. I got the new Gotham Central issue, which I am excited about reading, and some assorted other titles with some episodes of 'War Games' in. Also picked up a copy of Whiteout which I grabbed for its Greg Rucka writing credit. Rucka did the first Gotham Central collection In The Line Of Duty and that was good enough for me. I started reading Whiteout whilst lunching in Herbies, and it looks like it’s going to be grand. I noticed there was a sequel too, so I can look forward to more of the same when I’m done with this one. Yay!
Also dropped by the museum to see the photography exhibit by Ski Harrison. Some good shots there, although to be honest portrait photography doesn’t normally float my boat a huge amount. My favourites are definitely the series of pensioners from the mid ‘60s, and the ones of elderly South West rural folks from the ‘80s and ‘90s. There are a couple of really terrific images, and a tenner for the accompanying book didn’t seem too steep. ‘Baguette Lady’ rules! Go Baguette lady!
I then made the mistake of popping into the Phoenix to see what their current exhibit was. It’s a nightmare! The South West Textiles group with ‘a response to Eden’. Argh! Plants and ‘textiles’ rolled up in one hideous exhibit! Well, I didn’t hang around for long, obviously. I got out of there, I walked straight out of there, I walked down the road and I started to sing…
Actually I didn’t start to sing. I just wandered down to the Cavern and dropped off some copies of the new Plan B for them to try and shift to punters. Fingers crossed. Solo said they would take some too, so hopefully Exeter’s Indiekid population will once more be well informed and not have to wallow in the gutter with the NME. Well, we can dream, can’t we? Yes we can.