The First Big Weekend Of The Summer

Ooh, I did a lot this weekend, and I’m going to tell you all about it, brain-fart style.

Took the Megabus to London on Friday morning – cost £3.00 and while it was an ordinary bus (no comfy coach seats) it actually wasn’t that bad for a three hour journey. Listened to the last of the Reith Lectures on the way. Gets pretty heavy towards the end and I’m not sure where I stand on it. Was he missing a major point or did I miss a major point? Walked from Victoria to the V&A in the sunshine through the very posh end of Chelsea. Rows of very expensive looking houses all painted bright white. Wondered if they get them painted en mass. V&A was mildly disappointing at first – too much stuff and none of it that interesting to me. Sought out the Cast Courts, a collection of reproductions of great works in plaster which would have been the staple of C19 museums. This I liked as it was a total mishmash of eras, styles and scale, and somehow that they were reproductions pleased me more than had they been originals (it’s that photocopier thing again). After a cup of tea, and deciding that the bulk of the museum held little interest, wove my way to the Modern section which was much more to my liking. Something really nice about seeing ordinary objects, some of which I might have owned at some stage, in a chronological exhibition. Nice collection of badges and mugs from the 80s and a few record sleeves, plus a great mini-exhibit on graphic design. Just enough stuff to make it interesting without going overboard, and the selected examples were perfect. While I was there the agency phoned (“can’t talk now, darlink, I’m at the V&A”) – back at the hospital this week.

Then over the road to the French Institute for two talks, the first hosted by Andy Roberts about graphic novel distribution in bookshops. Good panel getting down to the details without too much comics-centric tedium. Interesting stuff from Dan Franklin, publishing director at Cape, about the success of and plans for their niche of GNs. Discovered that Jimmy Corrigan sold 15,000 copies in handback which is a lot for a literary publisher, and yet at the same time not a lot when you think about it. Second panel was a discussion between Posy Simmonds and Charles Berberian. This was less formal than the last Posy talk I went to but still fun as both are good entertainers. Afterwards went for drink with Dave Shelton while Mark Stafford went to the screening of the Blueberry film where, during the Q&A, Eddie Izzard came on stage and did an impromptu gig.

This weekend I was staying with Antoinette, a friend from the London bookselling days who lived nearby, only she was going on a hen night on Friday but it would be okay for me to join them later. Wound up in a late-night bar in Soho which sounds better than it was, but it was fun. Nice to be back in that area after a year or so away – I miss the chaos. Eventually got back to the flat around 4.30am. Night busses in London are always a revelation – regular, clean and civilised – though the new pay-before-you-board system did flummox my drunken self a bit.

Next morning bad hangover and got to the FI at about one. On the way there heard a plane and looked up to see a small passenger jet flanked by two fighter jets pass over, followed by a jet with one of those radar domes flanked by another two fighters, followed by another passenger jet flanked by another two fighters, followed by another passenger jet, this one on it’s own. I guess Tony’s back from the G8 then. Rather odd to see this sight in the skies of Chelsea. Found greasy spoon cafe and had fried breakfast which looked like it had been dropped on the plate from a great height. Very tasty though and did the job.

At the Institute they were about to run drawing battles between cartoonists. On stage. With OHPs. Never been tried before. Could go horribly wrong. Could be great. On the whole it probably wasn’t a great idea as most toonsits aren’t performers, but some pulled it off, notably Simone Lia and Woodrow Phoenix‘s double act. Best of all was the triple act of Louis Trondheim, David B and Joann Sfar who stripped to the waste and messed around in a most entertaining manner. Sfar is a natural raconteur (at least I think he is – he kept slipping between French and English) while Trondheim comes over as a silent psychotic loon. People were wondering why he wasn’t on any panels since he’s one of the most popular cartoonists in France at the moment and I guess the organisers knew he just wouldn’t behave. Or talk, come to that.

Caught up with some of the usual people and met some new ones, which is always good. Paul Gravett has a new book out which he hopes will develop into a series. Shelton asked if the fabled Penguin Book of Comics was ever going to come out and Paul said this was it, only bigger, illustrated and in many volumes. Top news.

The main panel was on comics and dreams featuring David B, Aleksandar Zograf, Benoit Peeters and Andrzej Klimowski. One of the most interesting comics-related panels I’ve ever attended mainly because the members went into some detail about the practicalities of adapting their dream-state into comics without being boring or crass. Was particularly taken with the notion of autobiography being incomplete if it only deals with the conscious existence. Zograf and Peeters are very good speakers and I’d highly recommend seeing them talk should the opportunity arise (Zograf will be at Caption this year).

Overall, while the French Institute wing of the ComICA shindig was a little more informal that it’s ICA-based bretheren, it was a lovely weekend. The FI exists to promote French culture to the Brits which means they happily fly over their top comics creators and let us meet them for free, all in the spirit of Entent Cordiale.

Then off to the pub with Mark Stafford, Gav Burrows, Woodrow Phoenix and old-flatmate Anna for beers and absurdity. Mark might be working on a new comic scripted by Bryan Talbot, which is top news and evokes a wonderful strapline: “Talbot & Stafford – a name you can trust”.

Sunday the next stage of my weekend began with another Megabus journey to Oxford to attend a meeting with the Caption committee. This one wasn’t quite so smooth. Firstly I was waiting at slightly the wrong place thanks to the detailed but vague instructions and only saw the bus when someone else shouted to their friend “there it is!” Then, on boarding, it turned out I’d booked a ticket for next Sunday, but the driver let me on, which was good of him else I’d have been screwed big time (you can only book specific journeys online, which is something of a problem when you’re standing on a London street). Got to Oxford with an hour or so to spare so phoned Jeremy Dennis to enquire as to the location of Oxford’s greasy spoon cafe, which she provided, though it was closed. Oxford only seems to serve breakfasts at breakfast time. Who wants breakfast at breakfast time? Surely the reason you’re going to a cafe for breakfast is because you got up late with a hangover? And to think Dave Shelton and I were disappointed that we couldn’t get a £3.00 breakfast in Chelsea at 9.00pm… Whatever, after trying a couple of other places I resorted to the Pret All-Day Breakfast sandwich which just about did the job before going to the All Bar One (no TV, no football fans, big tables) for the meeting. Despite being an open meeting I was the only non-committee member present and it was good to be involved in the planning without actually being involved, throwing in left-field ideas and suggesting contacts. This year’s Caption is looking to be one of the best in recent times and, time and energies allowing, I can see it developing into something with a much wider scope. All very exciting.

Then it was off to the train station to come back to Birmingham. I’d already decided that I’d endeavor never to use the trains again but I hadn’t planned this part of the weekend enough to book a coach and trains are still the more familiar form of transport, so I went to the ticket office. £18.00 for a single. To put this in perspective the journey from Brum to London to Oxford by bus cost me £5.50 and made the weekend viable. The Eighteen quid, for one hour in a crowded train listening to stupid students boast to their parents how piously green they were, was an expense too far.

Then back home in time for the football, watched partly out of interest (I kinda enjoyed the world cup last time), partly because I was a little pooped from the weekend and partly because I knew everyone at work would be banging on about it so I’d better be able to at least nod and make comments. Quite exciting – I felt a wee jump in my chest when France equalised and then burst out laughing when they won. Classic stuff, this tragedy of the England team. Trust this country to have a team that’s in no way crap but never going to be great. Then checked the election results and off to bed.