Neither of us would have made a special trip to the Royal Academy to see either one of these exhibitions on its own, but when we realised that we were due to be across the road in Fortnum & Mason for an early evening Gresham Society event that evening, the opportunity to see:
…was too good for me and Janie to miss. (Click the above links to see the RA’s excellent on-line resources for each of these shows).
First we took in the Gormley. Janie got trigger happy with her iPhone.
The signage tells you to duck and dive your way through this piece, while another sign tells you rather strictly to stick to the outside of the piece. Where’s my sat nav when I need it the most?I tried to emulate the pose.This matrix piece made us feel a bit dizzyJanie was especially taken with the sketch books aplenty,Having done various real caves and even the Củ Chi tunnels in our time, this synthetic cave held no fear for us, although the health and safety brigade warned us about the dark, head hazards and claustrophbia before we entered. It was fun.
While we were more interested to see the Freud than the Gormley, in the event the Freud was a small exhibition with only a few interesting pieces.
Lucian clearly fancied himself more when he was young……than he did when he was older.
As we had suspected, neither show would have satisfied us as a single visit show, but we were pleased to have seen both in one visit, especially so on a day when we were to be so nearby anyway.
There are more photos, in a single album with the Fortnum & Mason ones, to be seen by clicking the link below:
The piece is said to be about the gig economy, but in truth it is about that shady part of the economy which is purportedly “gig”, but is in truth sham self-employment contracts that condemn the individuals concerned to a form of bonded labour, as the contracts are ludicrously one-sided and are designed to deny the individuals workers rights.
The story of this family plays out in rather typical Ken Loach film fashion. The viewer has a sense of foreboding from the outset. It is a Ken Loach movie after all.
The father of the family, Ricky, buys a van and hopes for a more independent existence as a self-employed van driver. The mother, Abby, is also technically self-employed – i.e. an agency care worker on a zero hours contract.
Things do not go well for them.
There are many good reviews on-line but the Variety one – click here – is comprehensive and interesting.
Bursting with poignant scenes, the most poignant ones, for me, are:
several scenes where Abby, who is full of goodness, wants to look after her charges better but is constantly under time/commercial pressure to move on to the next or work unpaid in her severely limited own time;
when Maloney, the ghastly “gangmaster” at the delivery depot, explains why his depot tops the productivity charts and states that the company ought to erect a statue of him to celebrate his management achievements;
a late scene in which the daughter, Lisa Jane, breaks down and explains that she just wants the family to go back to the way it was before her dad had the van.
Set in Newcastle, there are some moments of humour in it, but not to the same extent as I Daniel Blake, the previous Ken Loach, which Janie and I also rated very highly indeed.
Movies like this tell us a lot about our society; those pockets of society that people like me, Janie and most Ogblog readers are, mercifully, spared.
I offer space on Ogblog for Threadmashers if placing their pieces in the public domain pleases them; I am delighted and honoured to host any or all such pieces. This time, Kay Scorah has submitted her touching account entitled:
The Gift. Bobo
The Holme Lane Theatre Company – HLTC- specialised in Dickensian tales of poverty and suffering. Inspired by…
…well…
…Charles Dickens tales of poverty and suffering.
Their performances always featured a fierce heroine; Olivia Twist or Nicola Nickleby, who overcame tyranny and liberated the oppressed. This heroine was always slight of build, sharp-witted and fleet of foot. Uncannily like a certain small, skinny girl who always came top of the class and had to run fast to escape the thick bully boys in the neighbourhood.
The cast of HLTC, a motley collection of dolls and soft toys, would rehearse in my attic playroom in Hillsborough, Sheffield, and then head out on tour, which involved moving the entire production down to the living room to play to a captive (as opposed to captivated) audience of long-suffering grown ups, or GUs as we shall call them.
Bobo joined the cast in September 1961. A birthday gift from Granny. The first black doll in our company. She turned out to be the Russian doll of gifts. Which is weird because you don’t come across many black Russians….not outside of a cocktail menu, anyway.
Bobo the doll was just the wrapper around the gift of layers of learning.
Bobo gift 1: Golly has to go. With her movable arms, head and legs and her eyes which closed when she lay down, Bobo was a far more versatile performer than Golly, who just flopped about the place with a fixed grin. And, to be honest, in spite of being rocketed to stardom after having been featured on the side of a jam jar, Golly’s place in the company had been uncertain for some time. Some of our audience did not approve, even threatened to boycott performances, and with Bobo’s arrival… things became very awkward. No. Bobo most certainly could not be expected to work alongside Golly. This was perhaps the only time in history that a black female was given precedence over a male of any hue.
Bobo gift 2: Fluidity in representations of gender. With Golly gone, there were no male cast members. So we became an all-female theatre company. Male characters, if we must have them, were played by girl dolls. In 1961. Yes, The Holme Lane Theatre company was way ahead of its time.
Bobo Gift 3. Questioning the concept of gendered naming. Bobo arrived on a Tuesday. In conversation with Mr Baidu down the street, I learned that Bobo was Ghanaian for “Tuesday child”. I didn’t know that it was Ghanaian for “boy Tuesday child”. Nor did Bobo.
Bobo Gift 4. Heated debates on colonialism, cultural appropriation, integration, assimilation, ancestry, origin, custom…. Some of the GUs argued that Bobo should have an English name, like the other dolls – Wendy, Susan, Lorraine, Katy… “She needs to feel that she belongs.” “Just because she’s black doesn’t mean she isn’t English.” Others defended her right to claim her ancestry…. It could be hard to get their attention back to the play; to Olivia Twist MP’s fight for workhouse reform or Dr Nicola Nickleby’s courageous work among child polio victims.
So, here’s to Bobo, probably the first black female to play the lead in a stage adaptation of a Dickens novel, who, 5 years before the race relations act, called out racism and reclaimed African culture from the colonial Brits, and who, decades ahead of the LGBTQ+ movement gave rise to an all-female, gender non-conforming, cross-dressing theatre company.
Not bad for a doll.
Many thanks again to Kay Scorah for allowing this piece to guest on Ogblog.
…as Stephen Wordsworth of Cara was one of the guests for lunch at the Old Bailey that day and asked me if I would like to attend O’Nora’s forthcoming evening. Of course I said yes.
Monday 28 October – Communication and Democracy in a Digital Age
Lectures steeped in Kantian philosophy are not exactly awash with soundbite takeaways, but one especially good thought did stick in my mind in takeaway fashion; Onora’s assertion that the post World-War Two switch from duties-based philosophies towards rights-based philosophies is proving unhelpful for matters such as regulating social media.
The near-monopolies that deploy/control social media fall back on rights such as freedom of expression, privacy and autonomy while abdicating responsibility for duties such as truthfulness, trustworthiness and consideration for the sensibility of others.
Onora maintained a largely pessimistic line of argument, both in her talk and through the lively question and answer session that followed. I do not share her long-term pessimism on this topic; I think new media tend to go through an unruly phase when they can be especially disruptive to society (by which I mean negatively disruptive) because society and individuals within society take time to adapt to the positive uses of the new media.
In short, as long as we don’t destroy ourselves as a society before the new media settle down, I think those media will settle down and be a force for good to a greater extent than a force for ill.
Still, a fascinating evening, with some food and drink for sustenance as well as for thought after the main event. I met some interesting people for the first time and re-established connections with some others I had met before, including, very briefly, Onora.
Tuesday 29 October 2019, Afternoon, The Old Bailey Court Five
Coincidentally, my return visit to The Old Bailey, to spend a little time seeing a case unfold, was the afternoon following the Onora O’Neill Lecture.
Even more coincidentally, the case I watched for 90 minutes or so was about disseminating terrorist publications through social media. The subject matter of the cases are a matter of public announcement and record, so here and below is a link to the listing for this day:
I watched with several of the people who had taken lunch with the judges that day, including Prue Leith (whom I had not met before) and Crispin Black (whom I had met before).
This was the first time I had sat in on a criminal trial in England; I did sit in on a case in New York some 30 years ago (to be Ogblogged in the fullness of time). It was fascinating for me to see an English criminal trial process at close hand, not least this particularly interesting trial.
There were several binders of material, mostly print-outs from the web, which were being outlined in opening statements that afternoon.
Without making any comment on the contents of those binders as evidence for this case itself, I found it unusually depressing (not a term I use lightly) to wade through the voluminous materials that had been printed out from the web to be used as evidence. I knew of such publications, of course, but had not actually seen, read or heard such materials before.
I also found myself thinking deeply about the lecture the evening before and Onora O’Neill’s pessimism about the impact that social media might have on our society if we do not find ways to regulate and curate such media towards good rather than ill. Despite my theoretical optimism (expressed above), the practical examples before me that afternoon allowed me little room for optimism for the rest of the day.
Tomorrow will be brighter, not least because I shall be spending the day in a very different type of court amongst friends.
Guilty…but only of poor technique
Despite it not making me feel good, I am very glad I went to The Old Bailey that day and that I have now experienced watching part of a trial unfold at close hand. I am grateful to Michael and his shrieval team for organising the visit for me.
Lemn Sissay – from Wikipedia Commons – click pic for attribution
This sounded like a fascinating true story – which it is. Celebrated poet and dramatist, Lemn Sissay, spent his formative years as a foster child and in care where he experienced almost-unimaginable emotional cruelty and neglect.
He has spent much of his adult life working to uncover his true identity (he is of Ethiopian descent), together with a quest to understand his origins and unusually bleak early life.
It didn’t help when his lectern collapsed right at the start. Miranda Sawyer as Chair didn’t really help either as she, bless her, was almost as “all over the place” with the buzz of the fans as was Lemn Sissay.
The nadir came during the limited time for questions at the end, when a friend of Lemn Sissay’s took up a question slot in order to blurt out that she loved him. Even Lemn responded to that one by saying to her, “why don’t you just give me a call to tell me that” and Miranda said, “that’s a comment, can someone else please ask a question?”
Actually the questions were quite good and did help to cover many of the gaps from the preceding hour.
Are we glad we went? On balance, yes. Lemn Sissay is an engaging personality and he has such a troubling-but-interesting story to tell. I’d really like to have a quiet chat with him one day; I suspect he comes across better when he doesn’t have a mob of fans to please.
Mike Hodd (see headline picture) is one of the founders of the show, was a mainstay at our writers meetings in the 1990s and is a fairly regular attendee at Ivan Shakespeare dinners.
For some reason, Mike roped me into liaising with Emma and Shannon at the Canal Cafe to help pull together the 40th anniversary event.
I take very little credit for the superb evening that ensued, but I did contribute some archival material and I did stitch up some NewsRevue alums by gathering names and serial numbers through the e-mail connections.
I also suggested that the event include a smoker, in line with a tradition we had back in the 1990s of having after show parties at which we performed party pieces. Mike particularly liked that idea so it simply had to happen.
But the organisation of the event was really down to Emma, Shannon and the team who did a cracking job.
First up was a pre show drinks reception, at which some of us (encouraged to dress up), looked like this:
Barry Grossman, Colin Stutt and Me.
Then we watched the current show. An excellent troupe comprising Dorothea Jones, Brendan Mageean, Gabrielle De Saumarez and Rhys Tees under Tim MacArthur’s directorship.
Before the smoker, Shannon and the team played us a wonderful 40th anniversary video compilation of pictures and video clips from across the decades. Here is that very vid:
I was proud to have supplied some of the clippings contained therein and moved to see the video and ponder on just what 40 years of a show really means.
Then the smoker. I was really delighted that current/recent cast and crew joined in the idea and chipped in with their own party pieces, which were very entertaining.
From our own “Class of ’92, there were several contributions, captured pictorially by Graham Robertson, with thanks to him for the following pics.
Mike Hodd made two excellent contributions to the smoker;
a very amusing stand up set in which he somehow managed to extract humour from Parkinson’s disease. I shall never again be able to dissociate in my mind the film Fatal Attraction from the affliction fecal impaction;
a slow build routine in which he was an auctioneer trying to fob off some utter tat as masterpieces. Great fun.
Gerry Goddin
Gerry Goddin performed an audience participation routine in which we joined in a song about “mutton dressed as lamb” to the tune of Knees Up Mother Brown. Gerry dealt with my heckling so masterfully that some people thought the heckles had been planted; they had not.
Barry Grossman
Barry performed a stand up comedy routine with masterful poise. I thought we were all supposed to be writers who cannot perform.
I wanted to celebrate one of my classic songs from 1992; the second of mine to be performed in the show but a perennial:
Chris Stanton was the performer who made my debut contributions to NewsRevue such a success in 1992. He too was at this party and performed a couple of classics brilliantly well; A Loan Again and also John Random’s classic 0898 song. No photo of the Chris’s performance as yet – unless Graham finds one of those amongst his collection.
Jonny Hurst also celebrated John Random’s ouevre with a rendition of the wonderful “Tell Laura A Liver”.
This was in part done to honour John Random’s recent selfless act to donate a kidney out of pure altruism to an anonymous recipient. To complete the honouring of that extraordinary good deed, Jonny and I jointly segued the liver song into a visceral medley including a specific piece we put together to honour John’s donation:
WHO DO YOU THINK GOT YOUR KIDNEY, MR RANDOM?
(Lyric to the Tune of “Who Do You think You Are Kidding, Mr Hitler?”)
THE MAIN REFRAIN
Who do you think got your kidney, Mr Random? Since your organ donation? Was it a girl for to stop her renal pain? Was it a boy who can take the piss again? So who do you think got your kidney, Mr Random? Now that you’ve gone down to one?
FIRST MIDDLE EIGHT
Mr Burns – he came to town The age of twenty-one He did assume a nom de plume And took the name Random.
FIRST REPRISE
So who do you think got your kidney, Mr Random? Now that you’ve gone down to one?
SECOND MIDDLE EIGHT
Mr Burns did not return With kidney number one But kept his sense of humour… (pause) …And is ready with his pun.
SECOND REPRISE
So who do you think got your kidney, Mr Random? Now that you’ve gone down to one?
It was a great party, it was a terrific show and it was a superb smoker. A truly memorable event to celebrate 40 years of a wonderful show.
As John Random said in his preamble to the smoker, NewsRevue has initiated so many careers and transformed so many lives over those decades. And for those of us who have formed enduring friendships, it is hard to express our gratitude to Mike Hodd and those who have kept the NewsRevue torch burning week in week out for forty years and counting.
…a day of quiet contemplation, gardens and art seemed to be in order.
So we went to Kew Gardens. It’s ages since we’ve been and Janie was especially keen to see the new Dale Chihuly exhibits.
Just the sight of one of them made Janie’s hair stand on end…
…or was Janie still frazzled from the cricket world cup?
If we both look a bit “straight off the tennis court” in the pictures, that’s because we did go to Kew straight after playing some tennis. We had a quick bite in the pavilion on arrival before wandering on to the Temperate House.
Temperate House from below…Temperate House from the viewing gallery above
After the Temperate House, which has several stunning Chihuly pieces, we then went to the Marianne North Gallery to see her fine works.
Then on to the Shirley Sherwood Gallery, where many of the regular Dale Chihuly’s can be found and where we bought Janie books on both Chihuly and Marianne North.
Shirley you must be joking, Mr Chihuly?
Then around the gardens some more to take in the new, scattered Chihuly works and the beautiful gardens.
Not Chihuly, this work. Chihuly do you think you are, Ged?Eye candy galore.
Then home for some stretching and meditation with Lexi.
Did all this calm us down 24 hours after that tense cricket match? A bit…not completely. But it was a super day out.
Ahead of time, I hadn’t thought about the irony of the V&A, perhaps the most labyrinthine of all UK museums, having a special display of photographs from the labyrinthine streets of a sprawling Middle-Eastern city such as Cairo.
But that irony was soon brought to the forefront of my mind as we tried and failed to find that Cairo Streets display. Two attempts at the information desk later (including one incident during which Janie and I also mislaid each other), the informed conclusion was that the display in question has been delayed and is not there yet. We have until April 2020 to find it, if indeed it ever shows up.
The irony continued as we asked the kind woman at the information desk to direct us to the Laughing Matters Exhibition and she advised us to go to the third floor, pointing to a nearby staircase & lift.
After wandering what there is of the third and much of that end of the V&A’s second floor in vain, we asked a walkie-talkie-bearing attendant, who admitted to being clueless, but he could and did use his walkie-talkie to radio for help.
“First Floor”, came the garbled instruction from the walkie-talkie, “tell them to walk the British Renaissance 16th and 17th century and they can’t miss it”. We had walked that way before, of course, on previous visits. A bit too Mock Tudor for me, that 16th century section.
Anyway, we did reach Laughing Matters, which we couldn’t miss. Quite a small display, it is. I suppose there aren’t that many artefacts that can be deemed to be quintessentially British Comedy.
The Spitting Image of Mrs Thatcher was a highlight…that’s Mrs T in the display cabinet, not on the phone. Janie (on the phone) was listening to some of the many vox coms (voice of comedians) on such phones in the centre of the room. Some very interesting, many rather mundane. Also around the room were many quintessentially British comedy clips, such as “don’t tell him, Pike”, “don’t mention the war” and Babs Windsor’s bikini-boob-bursting scene from Carry On Camping. No mention of NewsRevue. Tish.
Can you get me a cab a bit sooner than that? I need to get out of here.
The one place in the V&A that Janie does know how to find without a map or a personal guide is the member’s cafe. That was to be our next stop.
Janie fancied some soupy, creamy courgettes, while I just nibbled some nuts with my tea – oooer, missus.
The one performance thing we fancied was a performance piece, in the new Hochhauser auditorium, named Within The Warren, a piece which heaped irony upon irony by satirising the labyrinthine nature of the V&A’s culture. I have oft suggested that organisational cultures tend to reflect some intrinsic element of the organisation – hospitals having an “accident and emergency” style culture, children’s charities having child-like elements in the meetings, etc.
So it came as no surprise to discover, through this lightweight, absurdist piece by Jessica Mullen, that an outsider finds the V&A impenetrable as an organisation.
Even the Q&A was somewhat bewildering, as the interviewer asked a couple of obscure questions and then threw the Q&A open to the floor, to find only one question…from me. Jessica Mullen batted back an answer in such an inscrutable manner, I imagine that she’ll be head-hunted for MI6…if she isn’t in there already.
“Stand clear of the doors”, Japanese poster art style……inspired by…
In any case, we’d not really explored the Japanese rooms before and thought we’d find the whole thing fascinating just six months after visiting Japan.
After that, we both felt exhausted, so we headed home to Noddyland. It was still so early that Janie was able to photograph some ducks on the Noddyland village pond – bless.
As if I don’t spend enough time hanging around this part of Westminster, I found myself, for the second time in 24 hours, hanging around in Dean’s Yard. But this time I was on a half-holiday, awaiting a tour of the Westminster Abbey Library & Muniment Room, with my friends from The Gresham Society.
We were such a large group that we needed to be split in two. I wondered whether to mention Solomon at the point that Tony Trowles, Head of Collections and our principal guide for the afternoon, suggested an even division of the group. But I thought better of that Old Testament reference in the particular setting of the Westminster Abbey Library.
If you want a general background/introduction to Westminster Abbey, btw, you could do a lot worse than the Wikipedia entry – click here.
Anyway, my half of the group went with Matthew Payne to see the Muniment Room first. I think the more conventional way is to see the Library first, perhaps because the Muniment Room is seen to be the highlight.
In reality, I found the whole tour a highlight.
It was fascinating to see the Muniment Room, it’s storage chests some of which are 800 or so years old, it’s extraordinary mural of Richard II’s white hart and it’s stunning views across the Abbey.
But it was also fascinating to have Tony show us the Library and learn all about its transformation from a Benedictine monks’ dormitory into a theological library.
Further, some of the artefacts on show in the library were quite simply breathtaking. An Edward The Confessor writ, for example, which they are almost 100% certain is genuine (there is doubt over some of the oldest relics), made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
After our private tour – even among Gresham friends it seemed extremely cosy in places – the wide-open spaces of the new Queen’s Diamond Jubilee Galleries seemed liberating.
The stroll and climb to the galleries was enjoyable in itself – around Poets’ Corner at ground level and then a charming new staircase with gorgeous views across to the Palace Of Westminster. What a shame to think of the shambles that is the political mayhem going on in that historic place at the moment.
But then the new galleries and the stunning exhibits on show, well set out for ease of navigation and all very well labelled/described.
While Westminster Abbey prohibits photography within its confines unless you buy a licence to do so, it does provide excellent imagery for those beyond its confines, such as these excellent short videos about the new tower and galleries. First up, the climb up the stairs of the tower:
Next up, the galleries themselves, described extremely well by the curator, the Dean and also Tony Trowles, who guided our library tour:
I wondered, briefly, whether the cult of Mithras (see above) or the Cult of Saint Edward The Confessor (yes, really, Westminster Abbey owes a great deal of its character to Henry III’s attachment to that cult) would be the preferred cult for us Gresham Society types.
I took some soundings…some might call it a mini-referendum…which was a very close run thing; 52%-48% approximately. As a heated, perhaps irreconcilable debate broke out amongst this group of hitherto convivial Gresham Society friends, I thought best to take my leave of the group swiftly.
For all I know, the remnants of the Gresham Society might still be debating the relative merits of their preferred cults in The Westminster Arms; at least, that’s where most of the group (or should I now describe it as a brace of warring factions) was last seen at the time of writing.
In truth, it was a thoroughly interesting and enjoyable afternoon out. Once again, thanks to Tim Connell for leading our field trips…also to Basil Bezuidenhout and others for helping to organise them.
Not like me to be a fashionista, but Janie loves the V&A and had worked out that, on the back of her membership, we could take in the new Mary Quant and Christian Dior exhibitions in preview without breaking a sweat on this late opening Friday.
I preceded the impending double dose of fashion with a double dose of tennis. The first hour was a singles bout against a gentleman who was a fairly regular opponent of mine in the early days but who I hadn’t played for some while. The handicap system had us level for this game, but I think he was having a bit of an off day and in any case all the luck seemed to go my way and not his, resulting in me registering a good win.
The second hour was the senior doubles, which I have mentioned several times before, e.g. click here. Robin Simpson, who is one of the handful of nonagenarians who still plays, was on the other side and on top form today. He seemed able to get back everything my partner and I could throw at him. In truth it was a delight to witness his performance, except that, at 5-all, 30-all, you don’t want your supposed winning shots sent back to you with interest, on two consecutive points, by a 92-year-old, to seal the set for your opponents.
Photo from a previous doubles of a somewhat less senior variety
Then a quick snack before Janie joined me and we headed off to the V&A. We figured that the late afternoon slot might be best for minimising the queuing, as we had been warned that we might need to queue for quite a long time for both the Quant and the Dior.
The members desk recommended that we start with Quant, where we only had to queue for about 10 minutes. Dig this groovy trailer for the show:
This exhibition will be running until February 2020, so if you read this Ogblog piece in time, clicking here or on the image below will tell you how to see the show – in any case the V&A resources about this show should still be there.
Click this image to see the V&A website resources on this Mary Quant exhibition, including the credit for this image.
Janie especially loves these 60’s fashions. I found the story of Mary Quant’s early life interesting…
…indeed, in truth, I was more interested in the whole iconography and 60’s culture generally than in the fashion. But this show has plenty of fun imagery and artefacts as well as fashion garments.
More coat couture than haute couture. Photos (apart from the link ones, which are credited on the V&A site) by Daisy (Janie) – this one shows Mary Quant’s Daisy doll – after our time apparently.
Then Janie and I went to the Members Lounge for some refreshments before braving the Dior queue, which we had been warned was a formidable 30 minutes or more job.
The Christian Dior exhibition has been running since February and has proved so incredibly popular that the run has been extended to September 2019, but even that has now sold out so it is available to members only in the absence of pre-booked tickets.
Click here or the image below for on-line information about the Dior exhibition. There are several vids and lots of amazing photos and panoramas of the show, which might satisfy many a curious reader who cannot get to see the show itself.
Click this image for the V&A resources on the Christian Dior exhibition, including the credit for this image.
In the event, our choice of that late afternoon/early evening slot proved wise, as we only needed to queue for about 5 minutes to get in to the Dior. We chatted with an unusual lady dressed in a bizarre assortment of home-made turquoise-dyed garments.
The haute couture in truth means even less to me than the Mary Quant type fashion, but the context of Dior’s life, untimely death and then how the House of Dior progressed over the decades was interesting.
Further, the Dior exhibition in particular is beautifully laid out – stunning in places, so Janie, who took loads of photos in the Quant one, took loads more in the Dior one.
Spot GedSpot DaisyDreamy final room……so dreamy I almost nodded off in there.
Janie’s stack of pictures from this afternoon and early evening at the V&A can all be seen on Flickr by clicking here or below.
I found the contrast between the two exhibitions fascinating, making it a well worthwhile visit, for me, to see the two shows. In truth, it was a very enjoyable and interesting outing from both of our points of view. The benefits of Janie being a member of the V&A really came into play for this visit. We’re planning another next month, so watch this space!
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