You don’t need me to tell you there’s a lot of ugliness in the world right now. More than we could ever possibly want or need. That makes it more important than ever to celebrate good things when they happen, too. And yes, this does mean I’m about to sing the praises of my hometown and some of the creatives who live and work here. I’m told there are folk – those who don’t know any better, obviously – who choose to think Wolverhampton is a barren expanse, a cultural desert. We could do with more funding for the arts, for sure (who couldn’t?) but there’s plenty going on. It’s just not necessarily on your radar.
Saturday night just gone, I headed to Wolverhampton’s Arena Theatre to see ‘Battered Chip On My Shoulder’, a Fringe show by one Dave Pitt of this parish. It’s utterly brilliant. And I’m not just saying that because he’s a fellow pandemonialist – really, I’m not. This is a tightly written, cleverly woven piece, compellingly delivered (no surprise to anyone who’s ever seen Dave perform), which blends serious points about class with split-your-sides comedy. If you haven’t seen it, you need to. If you run a Fringe, you need to book it. If you know someone who runs a Fringe, you need to tell them to book it so you can see it. And if you’re busy wondering what on earth a battered chip is, you need to sort that out, too. Here’s the lowdown on this culinary gift from the Black Country to the world.
Next morning, I headed back in to Wolverhampton to wander round a print fair at NewHampton Arts. I thought I’d pop in for ten minutes, have a look round, give myself a pat on the back for showing interest in another art form, and head home. Nope. I was there for hours. The work on show was mind-bogglingly good; the artists, more than happy to chat about their designs and the process of making them. It was fascinating, inspiring, and joyous. Massive respect to Wolverhampton artist Jacky Fellows for being the driving force behind what really deserves to become a regular event.
Oh, and to top it all off the sun shone all day. For the first time in weeks. We celebrated by popping down our local for a swift one. The perfect way to round off a weekend which proves what we already knew: that Wolverhampton is – in the words of our first Poet Laureate, and pandemonialist, Emma Purshouse – a winning city. Get in!