Wirksworth Arts Festival

I've wandered and wondered around Wirksworth looking at variations on the theme of local artwork. In the company of my partner, Sue, and because of her, I've met some friends and acquaintances and felt equally glad and uncomfortable with their temporary company.

It's a peculiar event - art is displayed around the town in venues but mostly in people's houses, so you get to go in, have a nosy and be nonplussed by the artwork on offer, sometimes at reasonable prices, mostly not. "Invest in good art!" - maybe but it's finding the good art that's tricky.

It is a very white affair, very middle England, very nice.

Then there's the dark cellar of mustiness...

Spotted 4 locals, sitting outside the pub in the Market Square, attempting to intimidate the arty folk with copious beer-swallowing and blank beshaded looks.

Twitched as the artist (used in its broadest, most amateur sense) adjusted the carpet beneath my feet as I entered yet another salon of delights. His apology fluttered, scarcely audible, around his lips as his arms tugged and twirled.. Welcome to My World!

Leapt, as if stung, when the lovely tea lady in the church threatened us with another service, if we dallied beyond 3 o'clock. She used the word "Clypping" in that ominous way it has...

So, a short circular walk around Wirksworth revealed its pretence and its beauty, although that is, of course, for others to judge.