Recently in Culture Category

This weather is good news and - you knew I was going to come up with this - bad news.

I hate the sun. It's personal, I'm afraid. It brings me out in great bumps and blotches. So as soon as the sun has got his hat on, my goes on too - and Factor 50 sunblock and, in extreme cases, my cycling mitts to cover the backs of my hands.

Oh insufferable fate! (Sorry, just feeling a bit dramatic...) As if one night of teenagers isn't enough, I was subject to yet another demonstration of the youth of today as part of the IDFB last night; at Diary (Journal Intime): Quebec-based dance company Cas Public's show commissioned especially for young audiences.

I will emerge the other side of this Festival with some new observations: that dance, at its heart, is playful, that it needs a great space to play and a great audience to play with and - weirdly - that teenagers are OK. An unpredictable result.

Not only does a great performance have to be in a great venue and in front of a great audience (see previous post) but it also needs to be the right length ...

Apparently you can't have too much of a good thing, but after last night I'm inclined to disagree. The 'good thing' in question here was Tillana Tarana - A Feast Of Classical Dance. Or a 'Feat of Classical Dance' as my hand just tried to suggest - a Freudian typo slip. Or indeed a 35-course, never-ending banquet of Classical Dance...

Hooray - I have finally found something to moan about.

I've always been a bit of a purist really, in the sense that I've always thought that great performance was just great performance - it stands alone in a vacuum of marvellousness and nothing can touch it. As I discovered at Tuesday night's IDFB En Sus 13 flamenco show at the Town Hall, this is not true. Great performance also needs to be in a great venue and in front of a great audience.

I love dance. I hate teenagers. Yes, I was one once, but I'm sure I hated myself at the time too. So last night was a bit of an IDFB experiment to see if my passion for one would neutralise my dislike of the other - or indeed, vice versa.

As I've discovered; I now like teenagers that dance. At least, I like them when they're dancing. I had the dubious pleasure of an impromptu backstage tour at the interval and managed to get myself lost in a rabbit-warren of tantrums, hormones, glitter, shrieks, fights, hugs and squeals, so was glad to clamber back into the safety of my circle seat and watch them from a safe distance, however.

I am yet to see an IDFB show that I haven't gushed about. It's getting a bit boring. I thought the youth of today might give me something to be nasty about, but they have let me down as well, damn them.

I have to admit to a pang of disappointment as I walked past the floozy in the jacuzzi last night and it wasn't covered in scaffolding, bridges and burnt out cars. Or indeed crazy rubber-limbed dancers backflipping around the fountain.

For those of you that did not Watch This Space at the weekend, the space was Victoria Square as you've never seen it before and we were watching Hofesh Schechter company and 2FaCeD DaNcE fling themselves around a temporary construction of scaffolding bridges, stages, towers and cars. Gadzooks. A little more extraordinary than your usual Saturday in town - as amazed crowds gathered round to witness mind-bending gymnastic feats from dancers performing break dance, hip hop, contemporary dance and parkour in front of them, behind them, below them and above their heads. It was, really, a dance festival all in itself.

Now that is what I call a trailer! Yes, this is the daughter, so-called, of Dr Who. Watch at 6.45 next week to find out more.

It was great to see such a great come-on after a pretty dull Sontaran finale. The actress, by the way, is Georgia Moffat, real-life daughter of ex-Doctor Peter Davison and ex-Hitchiker's Guide star Sandra Dickinson.

II believe that in the story the character has been working as a check-out girl in Brum but was spirited away into a time vortex by the mental power of an angry customer who she didn't realise was a member of the famous intergalactic race of Blog Monsters.

Actually, Roshan, it was Dennis Healy who popularised the phrase 'When you find yourself in a hole, stop digging...'

I'm about to reveal my prejudices, worse still those that manifest themselves on the web the supposedly most democratic of mediums.

I don't hate you if you demonstrate these, they won't even make me like you less, I'll just get mildy irritated. That said I will probably refrain from attempting to explain Twitter to you, then again that may be just what you want.

So, without attempting to upset anyone, here's my top twelve interweb no-nos :

Bang - there it is.

The lights go down, the auditorium goes quiet, and a spotlight picks out a lone figure on stage, moving, very slowly, in white pyjama bottoms. And for the next 70 minutes, frankly, nothing else matters - apart from legs, arms, breath, movement, shape, control, balance and ethereal beauty.

I feel like I've had a decade's worth of education and broadened perspective in just over an hour - and no-one's spoken a word.

Change is not always for the better - not as far as the Co-op is concerned.

Correction, that's co-operative now. I've been aware for a while that things are different in my local shops. They've joined the other big chains by introducing a premium slot - it's Taste the Difference at Sainsbury's, for instance.

Everything is getting the same branding, from the bags I get my repeat prescriptions in to the needless cellophane wrappers on the new-ish (and excellent) boutique bakery lines. Yes, in the worst modern design trend it's all lower case and it's now in bold. My lifelong favourite shop, the Co-op, where we still collect our divi, is co-operative now.