A pedants journey through Quorn

The previous evening I had sampled a few pints of corrective elixir at one of the local taverns in the village, and feeling a little worse for wear the following morning I thought it a good idea to brush off the cob-webs and go for a leisurely stroll around the village. I picked up some empty bottles from the kitchen, placed them in a bag and entered the big wide world of Quorn.

As I stepped out of my front door onto School Lane, I was almost knocked to the ground by five young children rushing to get into the dance school.

I thought how wonderful it was that these children had access to such a community provision. Enabling them to express themselves through the medium of dance, learn to communicate with others, co-ordinate themselves and obviously keep fit.

This brought on the first question of the day. In such a small village why do parents/carers have to drive to the Dance School surely it would be better all round to leave the car at home? But I can hear the dulcet tones of angry parents now, "I just have not got time!" Well my response to that is find time now, children are our future so is the environment they are growing up in.

I dodged in and around the mass of vehicles parked along School Lane and entered Stafford Orchard. The Weeping Willows seemed to be weeping more than usual, was this a sign that something was to happen this fine day?

I reached the bottle bank in the car park and once again it was full. One has to ask ones-self, are the people of Quorn such big drinkers that as soon as the bottle bank is emptied, we fill it immediately or is that the Council just forget to empty it? I leave that thought with you. I managed to just get my empties in and moved on across to the Post Office.

The notice boards in shop windows have always intrigued me, with the technology we have today, here is a true example of communication. What's this I see, as I step back in amazement into the 17th Century. The advert reads "Boy wanted to wash 2 cars per week contact xxxxxx", I thought we were in the 21st century, the age of equal rights. This language only serves to marginalise women even further in an already oppressive society, as it seemed to suggest that those not of the male gender were unable to wash cars. What a bizarre idea, my personal experience based on empirical research and observation has always prompted me that women are not only equally able to wash cars but are actually better at it.

Am I being too pedantic? I ask myself as I walk up to The Cross and notice a sign on the side of one of the local inns (Morning Tea served here). Again, was this a test set for me? Was it the reason the Willows seemed to be weeping so? The inn was closed and to my understanding does only open at 12.00 mid-day. So why were they selling morning tea in the afternoon, surely it should be afternoon tea! Or is it my misunderstanding of the word morning? I thought it meant "The early part of the day, from sunrise to noon.

I moved on up High Street and stopped at the "Fire Sculpture" next to Classique Cuts Hairdressers. I could also just see the sculptures opposite in the churchyard peaking over the wall as though they were wanting to jump up into the air. I remembered the comment by a past writer in "The Quorndon" as to whether these sculptures were art!!!

For me, what distinguishes an object of sculpture from other objects is its identity. Sculpture seems to penetrate the inhabited world. It acts by displacement; it is a state of being, the state of feeling, the state of experience, and the state of physical awareness and sensation. The state of confrontation by physical phenomena. This existence/ confrontation with the observer creates an individual experience, a reality.

And so for a pedant like myself, if there is a reaction as to whether these sculptures are actually art, one has to gauge what one's reaction to them is as an observer. Either negative or positive, the reaction of the observer reinforces that it is actually art as it creates an individual experience and a fine aesthetically pleasing one at that!!

I moved on to Barrow Road and as I turned the corner, scenes reminiscent of the warm-up lap to a Grand Prix flickered through my mind. All the cars appeared to be swerving from side to side, were they warming their tyres attempting to get better grip and reach road temperature? I decided to investigate further and soon it became apparent. The farcical behaviour was down to the dreadful state of the road surface at the junction with Castledine Street. Having myself driven down this stretch of road, I could understand the annoyance of the car drivers. I personally have driven down better farm tracks in the Peak District, but that is another story. It began to rain yet again, which for me was reminiscent of monsoon time in Java, I naively believed that summer was upon us. Oh what a wonderful thought.

I was soon at School Lane, refreshed from the walk, soaked to the skin and mentally drained from the strange world lying beneath the fabric of Quorn or is it all in my head??

Pedantically yours,

Eric Wodke