Sparkling Glass Festival
The four-day International Festival of Glass centred on Stourbridge was absolutely wonderful in every way. It was worth travelling from the ends of the earth just to sample the fabulous bread pudding (made with muscovado sugar) on offer in Wordsley Church Hall or see the extraordinary glass dresses at Broadfield Museum or the magnificent work by international artists in the Sculpture Garden at Ruskin Glass Centre.
Not forgetting the sounds of the street performer in a bowler hat, apparently smashing windows or being chased by wolves, hiding behind a buggy-pushing mum or relieving himself against a wall - hilarious and utterly unexpected.
It was a huge event spread over many sites with a dizzying and dazzling choice of exhibitions, lectures, fairs, walks, great beer and terrific cakes. It was global in perspective and forward-looking but utterly parochial and rooted in local heritage - John Levett conducted us round the graves at Holy Trinity, Wordsley in company with people who'd written biographies of some of the legendary figures of the industry buried there.
There were workshops for experts to exchange views and techniques and chances for families to have a go. Our kids designed their own tumblers (pictured) and had them engraved by Andy Cope, painted bottles at Ruskin and knapsacks at Broadfield.
We marvelled at the beads on show inspired by The Tempest and nipped down the canal to the bonded warehouse to buy an octopus necklace from its creator, Francesca Cerretta, for my daughter's birthday.
If you missed the Festival proper, don't fret, many of the shows run into next month and beyond. The work by studio pioneer Michael Harris is on display until January 25 at the Broadfield Museum, for instance. Visit the website for more information.
Highlights for me (beside the cake and Festival ale) were David Reekie's men at Broadfield (pictured), the blowing curtains in the Biennale show (pictured), Tempestade (reviewed separately) and the overall feel of a church fete.
Lowlights were the same church fete-style lack of organisation. People were nearly coming to blows over turning up for workshops and taster sessions advertised on a first come, first served basis to find all the places had been pre-booked. We wanted to do some music work with composer Andrew Peggie but couldn't be fitted in. And I felt the brilliant work in the Sculpture Garden was not displayed to best effect.
We couldn't blame the organisers for the worm in my daughter's salad at Dudley's Village Hotel, and the cold creamed potatoes and noisy nocturnal wedding guests at the Copthorne, Merry Hill, the two venues Team Langley stayed at during the Festival.
Parking was, as predicted in the brochure, a nightmare and the workings of the shuttle buses provided seemed as mysterious as the solutions to a Rubik's Cube.
Bottom line was that there was a huge array of brilliant attractions, family fun and expert knowledge on tap, a trade show, an art fair and a living museum all rolled into one. A marvellous achievement.
Like Britain's Olympians, the bar has been set very high indeed for the next time.
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