|The Wedding Scene from Don Giovanni|
Hello noble readers.
This weekend I am going to a wedding which promises to be a superlative couple of days amongst some fantastic friends. That said, being fond of performance and pop culture I have to say this weekend is one of those times I wish I could teleport or clone myself to magically indulge in some serious cross UK, cross cultural activity. So for your delectation my futuristic fantasy of what 24th – 25th November would hold.
I’d take in the Celebrity Couples conference at the university of Southampton – hopefully catching the sessions on The Romantic Myth of Kate and Spence or Antonio Banderas and Melanie Griffith: From Latin Lover and Hollywood Bad Girl to Loyal Husband and Aging Female Star .
Unfortunately in order to catch the vows in sunny Manchester*, I will have to miss Watching the Throne: Beyonce and Jay-Z: Managing Celebrity Authenticity in the Blogosphere by a Salford based media lecturer, Dr Kirsty Fairclough.
Ah yes, if I had the power of instantaneous travel, after the food, speeches and first dance at the Magnificent Manchester Wedding, I could take a breather and merely mosey across to Nottingham for my second viewing of the current Opera North run of Don Giovanni featuring a crazy wedding and an even crazier gatecrasher, and the best “appeasing a jealous boyfriend” scene I have ever witnessed.
Then back to raucous antics in Manchester for the end of the wedding and possibly a hangover to end all hangovers.
What better way to ease my hangover than by catching up with friends over
My second afternoon filmy choice would be attending the brand spanking new Underwire film festival addressing why women “can’t” make featurefilms, with Dreams of A Life director Carol Morley and (I’m trying to be sooo cool about this and failing) my new twitter follower Hannah McGill, lists amongst a magnificent cv being former Artistic Director of the Edinburgh Film Festival.
After that I could Stealth Salvatore across time and space indulge in some mulled cider at the German Market and a brat-best (they could never be called wurst!) and finish off the night listening to the dulcet tones of Terri Walker back at The Drum .
Alas without the aid of a tardis, this weekend will remain a fantasy and perhaps that’s for the best, after all friends and family are pretty special in themselves.
*the blogger accepts no responsibility for the accuracy of this statement or choking fits suffered by readers.