North Islington Exhibits, 15th-17th July: Summer Salon at Islington Arts Factory

The annual Summer Salon at Islington Arts Factory will come to a close next Friday after three weeks of exhibition.

There are currently around a hundred artists showcasing their work in the converted former church on Parkhurst Road, and over 140 pieces of artwork, the majority of which are paintings or photography.

Islington Arts Factory’s Director of Visual Arts Eleanor Pearce recruited local artists for the showcase by contacting arts venues in the Islington area, including Crouch End Open Studio.

The artworks hang in the main room at the Arts Factory, and will be on display until the 29^th of July.

Although it is primarily a showcase of the work of local artists, Eleanor has had submissions from artists from as far away as Edinburgh and last year even Boston in the US – although the American artist was unable to submit for this year’s Salon due to the cost of delivering his work.

Other artists have returned to the Salon year on year.

The Arts Factory offers a wide variety of other activities alongside the exhibition of artwork – on Sunday afternoon local people attended band rehearsals and pottery classes, allowing a variety of people to browse the artwork as they passed through the building. School children also regularly use the Factory for workshops.

The artwork commissioned by the Summer Salon has various themes, from those that suggest haunting (Danielle Leach’s ‘Preparatory work Illustrating Franz Kafka’s Metamorphosis’ ) to those depicting more light-hearted subjects – for example the oil on canvas ‘Lanzorote Pool’ by student Tara Early.

Sound was used in the installation ‘Chairman Elvis’ by Janitzio Moreno, in a piece that embodied ‘political suggestion and reference to historical events.’

Mixed media was used extensively, one example being the offering from Weibke Dreyer, whose work ‘Cracks’ represented nature through painting.

Artist Amy Abbott sought to challenge gender and age stereotypes in her charcoal sketch ‘Home Comforts’, which depicted a old woman masturbating whilst watching television.

Another potentially shocking piece was the oil and emulsion on canvas by Hannah Habidi-Hopkin, which brought the often mysterious world of the Middle East into a western pop art discourse. It depicted a burka clad female below a speech bubble that read ‘Made you Look’. Habidi-Hopkin’s work has been called ‘immensely refreshing’ by Arabist Magazine.  

Next week will see the Arts Factory being used as a base for the Platform Festival, a scheme that attempts to engage 13 to 19 year olds who might previously not have been interested in art. The aim is to raise money to open a community centre on Hornsey Road, and a cardboard gondola will be seen parading through the streets during the weekend of 23^rd and 24^th of July. The Platform Festival has been running since Friday 15^th July and will finish on the 31^st.

The Arts Factory has recently had its government funding cut, meaning less money has been available for marketing the events and showcases that are offered. Anyone interested in the arts is being encouraged to get involved in the running of the centre.

North Islington Exhibits, 15th-17th July: Leo Asemota, 'Mapping a City'

Witness appeal signs by the Metropolitan Police might not immediately spring to mind when most people consider subjects for photographic exhibition.

            Artist Leo Asemota, however, highlighted them in his project entitled ‘Mapping the City’ ten years ago –and they are now on display in Islington.

            For the whole of 2001 Asemota captured photographs of the signs, which are put in place by the Metropolitan Police in the hope of finding witnesses to criminal acts. By the end of the year he had around 3000 photographs.

The project has never exhibited but is now in place in Asemota’s studio to mark its tenth anniversary, with the possibility that it could be commissioned by a gallery.

            Signs photographed include appeals after a suspicious death at Regents Canal, a petrol bombing on an Islamic centre in Maida Vale, and a rape in Ealing. Captured in the background of the photographs, Londoners pass the signs without a glance.

            One photograph, projected onto the bare wall of Asemota’s studio on

Hornsey Road

, shows a sign that has been half destroyed –the details of the appeal disappearing with it.

            On another wall in the studio, a video interview describes how Asemota would make his way around the city, taking photographs –he would ‘get on the first bus that comes along, and travel.’ Signs discovered in various areas of the city are shown in the film.

The project uses mixed media, with projection, video, newspaper clippings and photography all taking precedence. A ‘presentation’ of ideas is how Asemota describes the work.

            He stresses that the boards themselves should remain the most important aspect in the viewer’s mind, rather than any notions of race, sexuality or anything else that might come from them. He does point out a racial issue that is presented by the collection, however –that if a black person was suspected of a crime or was a victim, this was always made clear. Any other ethnicity was not mentioned, even in the hunt for suspects. Originally from the Midwest of Nigeria, Asemota believes that where crime is concerned, the general consensus is often that it will concern the black community in some way.

            Black History Month ran in autumn 2001, when Asemota was in the midst of photographing the signs. Letters showing both negative and positive reaction to Camden’s involvement in the month are displayed alongside Asemota’s work, along with a mock-up witness appeal sign calling for witnesses to the ‘mis-appropriation of black history.’ Letters criticising Camden’s treatment of black history month too show the depth of feeling about the stereotypical link between crime and the black community.

The photographs and related materials collected now are not intended for the public, Asemota says, but for galleries –thus the reason why the collection has never exhibited before. On display at the Contemporary Rooms for the next two days, the project is currently available to be viewed for future exhibitions.

Asemota can be contacted through his website – www.eotla.com

North Islington Exhibits, 15th-17th July: Performance Art at the Fire Station

The Old Fire Station on

Mayton Street

saw an eclectic range of performances taking place on the afternoon of Saturday 16^th July, the second afternoon of North Islington Exhibits.

The afternoon’s performances began with a political spoof of the past year’s newspaper headlines from performance artists Sh!t Theatre, made up of the ‘half barber shop quartet’ of Rebecca Fuller and Louise Mothersole.

‘Sh!t Theatre Presents Sh!t Bits’ included satirical swipes at the controversial Fox News network and the meat dress worn by Lady Gaga at the MTV Video Music Awards in  September last year. A spoof version of Gaga’s hit Bad Romance included the lyrics ‘I want your dress, but I want it meat-free’.

High street chain Primark was also on the performers’ hit list, with a mock news bulletin revealing the company’s new ‘ethical’ campaign, in which customers could ‘sponsor the baby who made this t-shirt’ –receiving a picture of the baby who had made the t-shirt imprinted onto the garment.

The spate of foxes finding their way into people’s houses and the way the media portrayed them as dangerous was played upon, with the animals becoming a metaphor for everything that right wing news agencies disagree with: ‘They have aids! They want to marry each other!’ was a repeated line of the song, making a clear political point against newspapers that sensationalise these kinds of stories.

A song based on the breast milk that was for sale in Covent Garden was also performed, encouraging the audience to buy ‘Mile End’s MILF Milk’, the value for money version, instead of trekking all the way to the overpriced West End.

The second and third performances were from the Marisa Carnesky Cabaret Collective, made up of Dunja Kuhn and Sara Deberec. ‘Hawaiian Blood’ was the first piece, devised by Kuhn, and began with her dancing in a traditional grass skirt before drinking from a coconut and spilling what seemed to be blood all over herself. A nightmare-like vision ensued, with Kuhn smiling as she smeared the blood across her chest. The disturbing visual continued with the emergence of Deberec, dressed in a square, white body costume, and the ensuing close bodily interaction between the performers.

The final performance of the afternoon, entitled ‘Dali’s Eye’, saw Sara Deberec dressed as a literal ‘eye’ –lamenting the notion that it could only ever belong to someone else and thus never be recognised for itself. Dali, the eye made clear as it became angrier, raging at the sleeping artist on the floor (Kuhn, hidden underneath a blanket), would be nothing without his eye. The existentialist piece came to a close with a self destructive vision of the eye wishing cancer upon itself, in order to destroy the artist that it had no other way to escape from. 

A beast of a debate...

This Tuesday (5^th July) marked the beginning of one of Spain’s major summer festivals –the world famous Running of the Bulls in Pamplona.

The bull running festival, with origins that go back around 700 years, is a cultural institution across Latin America, Spain, Portugal and even parts of southern France. But growing movements in animal rights in Spain over recent years, as well as a ban on bullfighting in the northern region of Catalonia, is threatening to derail the tradition that sees around a million people flock into Pamplona (general population just 200,000) every year.

The bull running, known in Spain as San Fermin Festival, is held in the northern town every year. The seven day event begins on the 6^th of July with the launch of a ‘chupinazo’ rocket, and the first race takes place at 8am on the morning of the 7^th. Six bulls and six oxen are released into the narrow streets, and thousands of festival goers pursue them towards the bullring, where a fight will then take place, culminating in the bull’s death from a single sword thrust. Races and fights then take place every morning at the same time until the 14^th.

San Fermin is the most popular bull running event in Spain, with tickets for bullfighting in the town’s 12,500 seat arena selling out months in advance.

The tradition appears to be losing popularity with locals, however –the Canary Islands made it illegal as far back as 1991, and Catalonia’s ban on bullfighting will come into place in January 2012. Barcelona, the Catalonian capital, declared that it was an anti-bullfighting city in 2004. A 2002 poll showed that 68.8% of Spaniards surveyed had no interest in bullfighting at all.

Latin American is also falling out of love with one of its oldest traditions. In 2006 the city of San Miguel de Allende in Mexico cancelled its festival for good, and the practice has been outlawed in Cuba and Argentina.

The waning popularity of bullfighting has been capitalized on in recent years, with growing resistance from animal protection charities. Detractors call it a ‘blood sport’, and say it has no place in modern society –a claim that supporters deny. They say that because no competition is involved, there is no way the fighting can be called a sport –it is, in fact, art.

                                                                        ***

Those against the tradition cite dangers to those taking part as one of their main arguments. Although only the experienced are supposed to take part in the running, it is often the case that tourists find themselves running alongside 700KG bulls –leading, predictably, to injury. The amount of alcohol that is often consumed adds to the risk posed to everyone. In August 2010, 40 spectators at a bullfight were injured when an aggravated bull jumped into the crowd in the town of Tafalla, just outside Pamplona.

Supporters argue that the danger to humans is overexaggerated, since only professionally trained fighters are allowed in the bullring –and only fifteen people have been killed in Pamplona’s race since 1924. In the same amount of time, between 200 and 300 people have been superficially injured –although these injuries are said to mostly consist of trips as the competitors run through Pamplona’s narrows streets.   

Protests against bull running and fighting are becoming more and more frequent, with estimates saying that 40,000 bulls are killed every year in Spain alone.

Since 2002, a rival event to the Running of the Bulls has taken place. The Running of the Nudes, where hundreds of naked or semi-naked protestors take to Pamplona’s streets to run the same route as the bulls, happens two days before the traditional festival begins. The Running of the Nudes is supported by a wealth of animal charities, including PETA, and numbers of runners are growing year on year –starting with 25 runners in 2002, the event peaked in 2006 with approximately 1000 attending.

The ‘nude’ aspect is designed to highlight ‘the naked truth’ –that the event is cruel and should be banned. Often protestors don red scarves and plastic horns during their run through the town, and brandish banners that declare ‘Bulls die bloody death in Pamplona’ and ‘The naked truth: Bullfighting is cruel.’

Supporters of bull running and fighting cite history and preservation of their culture as their main justification. Bullfighting was presented in a positive light in Ernest Hemingway’s 1924 novel Fiesta: The Sun Also Rises –the novel that brought the tradition into the British and US consciousness. Bullfighting is depicted as an art by traditionalists –Goya, Picasso and Orson Welles and countless others have discussed it favourably.

Foreigners living in Spain are often also swayed towards bullfighting as being the epitome of the country’s culture: ‘I'm honestly completely fine with bullfighting,’ says Kathryn Shaw, a student from Lancaster University who has spent the past year living and working in Madrid. ‘It’s a tradition and I respect traditions. I’ve been to one full one bullfight and that was enough for me, but I don’t' mind that they are still happening.’

Organisers of the Running of the Nudes believe that history is no longer enough to justify the continuation of the practice: ‘People have always tried to use tradition to justify horrible things, such as child labour and slavery,’ their website states. ‘But tradition doesn’t make something right. Bullfighting is a cruel blood sport that should have been relegated to the history books a long time ago.’

Catalonia’s imminent ban has been accused of being a political decision by some. It is well known that the region has a nationalist agenda, a legacy from the days of Franco, setting them apart from the rest of mainland Spain –although that this is the reason for Catalonia’s rejection of this particular part of Spanish culture is vehemently denied by Catalonians.

Economic considerations are possibly of most importance to those in support of bullfighting. With hotels filling up months in advance of San Fermin and revenues from bars, restaurants and shops sky-rocketing during the event, it would be difficult to find a replacement for this very lucrative business. Added to the fact that the majority of those involved are now tourists, as well as the livelihoods of those involved, and loss of the profits made from bullfighting seems highly likely to damage Spain’s already floundering economy.

Alexander Fiske-Harrison, writer of ‘Into The Arena: The World Of The Spanish Bullfight’ is split on the issue of bullfighting, but believes a ban would impair Spaniards’ choice over their own history: ‘Whether or not the artistic quality of the bullfight outweighs the moral question of the animals’ suffering is something that each person must decide for themselves.’

Some commentators have voiced the opinion that there is no need for a ban on bullfighting, because of the growing lack of interest from Spanish and Latin American people in this piece of their cultural heritage. It appears in some quarters that the practice will soon die out of its own accord. But seeing photographs of the thousands of people flooding into Pamplona this week, it is clear that this most controversial of traditions is still as popular as ever in some quarters.  

Insulting her hair? Really?

This morning, The Huffington Post asked viewers of its Facebook page whether Rebekah Brooks should stand down as Chief Executive of News International.

The question led to a deluge of comments, the large majority of which pointed out the reasons why, in light of the recent phone hacking revelations, Brooks should be removed from her position. All fair, justified, and related to the ethical issues that are at hand.

And then the personal jibes started rolling in, including disparaging comments on Brooks’ hair. One reader posted, ‘Someone should at least send the fashion police after her, good LORD her hair is a crime against humanity!’ This delightful creature then went on to offer further words of wisdom on the situation, later in the morning: ‘You’d think that with all she makes she could afford a decent hair cut and some sort of anti-frizz product… She is a living breathing example of how ugly on the inside seeps out of your pores and even onto your hair.’

Clearly the state of Rebekah Brooks’ hair was vastly offensive to this Facebook user, much more offensive than the allegation that she hacked into the phone of a murdered teenager and led her parents to believe that there might still be some hope that she was alive. Rebekah Brooks’ hair is SO offensive, in fact, that she spent time considering it in what appears to be great depth… not a word on the actual politics behind the situation, though.

There were also a number of comparisons to the much parodied American comedian and Cartoon Network presenter Scott Thompson, better known as Carrot Top. One Facebook user pointlessly asked, ‘That’s a woman?’ Erm… yes?

Male commentators, if they mention on a female’s appearance, are unlikely to mean anything other than satire. Women, however, seem to view personal attacks on other females as their right. In the case of Rebekah Brooks, who it appears does deserve some virulent criticism, attacks on her character, ethics, the way she runs her newspapers, etc, are fair game.

But seriously attacking her over her looks? Really? Isn’t that a bit… playground?

This woman has potentially done a very, very bad thing. She has either failed in her job as an editor of a major paper by turning a blind eye to where the stories she is publishing have actually come from, which is bad enough, since information has clearly been gained by unethical and illegal means. Or, she has sanctioned an invasion of privacy that has used family tragedy for profit, over and over again. Sarah Payne, Milly Dowler, Holly and Jessica, victims of terrorism… where, and when, will it end?

A better question to pose may be IF it will end. It would be a naïve person who believed that this practice is contained just within News of the World, or even just within Rupert Murdoch’s News International, which also owns The Sun and The Times. The coming to light of Rebekah Brooks’ failings as editor are likely to lead to a storm of revelation that engulfs a large proportion of the newspaper industry in this country. News of the World has today lost major advertising contracts with Vauxhall, Ford, Virgin Holidays, Co-Operative and Halifax. There are calls across Twitter for Rupert Murdoch’s power to be stripped away and for News of the World to be dissolved as a company. These are serious matters, however unreasonable and unlikely the demands of het up tweeters might be.

Yet still, the preoccupation with feminine beauty and grooming rears its head and takes away the very seriousness of the situation.  Doesn’t insulting Rebekah Brooks’ appearance trivialize the very ethically important issues that have come to light over the past two days? Are there really people who have nothing more insightful in their minds than the ability to throw childish insults immediately at a situation?  

I don’t care about Rebekah Brooks’ hair. There are slightly bigger problems at hand.

Oh! The places you’ll go!

On the 22^nd on July this year I will be graduating from Lancaster University, with (hopefully) a very well respected and highly fought for BA (Hons) in English Literature.

Being an organisational freak, I had my post-graduation plans lined up sometime around Christmas. I plan to spend three months au pairing in Rome before moving to London and beginning a journalism diploma in January. My soon-to-graduate friends, the majority of whom are just finishing arts and humanities degrees, are also close to sealing the deal on their 2011-12 plans. Some are preparing for further education (art conversion years, MAs in 19^th Century literature), some are doing the interview rounds (graduate scheme in recruitment consultancy, anyone?), some are sending off CVs in abundance and hoping for a positive response to plop into their inboxes in the near future. Those who had seemed reluctant to start the job hunt, citing too much pressing coursework, the overwhelming amount of choice, etc, are starting to get there.

Obviously, my friends and I are not alone in this situation.  We will be graduating alongside close to half a million others (the 335,000 graduating with undergraduate degrees in 2010 looks set to rise this year, and that’s only in the UK), and the competition for graduate jobs is fierce.

These kinds of jobs, though, are unlikely to be for everyone. I’ve known for years that they wouldn’t be the way I’d be going after July 2011. Two years tied down to the sales and administration department at Aldi HQ? Eighteen months in Milton Keynes at the Argos Head Office, sourcing the best type of lawnmower? Graduate schemes don’t sound all that inspiring to me, despite the obvious perks and pay that would come with working for a huge company.

In October last year a graduate fair visited Lancaster, and I had the chance to discuss my future career plans with a BBC journalist. He told me that the best advice he could give would be to ignore the wonderful guidance of the careers office. Why? Because a university’s worth is measured on how many of its students are in graduate employment six months after trotting across the stage in their gowns, not by how fulfilled they are by the choice they’ve made.

(Oh! The places you’ll go! Bradford for the Morrisons graduate training scheme, heading up the frozen food marketing division? Dr Seuss will be turning in his grave).

Essentially, following the advice given by the careers office will cut you off from all those things that make graduation so exciting –not having a firm plan, the ability to travel anywhere in the world, the chance to discover what it really is that you are passionate about and want to spend your life pursuing.

So it’s a good job that there are countless other options.

1.       Mailing lists. Free mailing lists can be a godsend for those creative types with no real plans and a flair for freelance. The best is offered by Arts Council England, which regularly fills my inbox with job adverts for everything from writers and artists to models and actresses, to marketing officers, to theatrical wardrobe supervisors.

Best for... artistic/ theatrical jobs.

2.       Work experience. If you haven’t had any work experience whilst at university you’ve missed a good opportunity, but never fear. There is always time, and it is almost certain that a few persuasive letters will get you a placement somewhere. The low point is that it’s likely to be unpaid; the high point is that you’ll make contacts that could potentially lead into a job.

Best for... any company based job.

3.       Interning. Bigger companies are likely to take on graduates for longer than a few days, and if you can find an internship you are on the way to securing a job with the company. All you have to do is impress.

Best for... magazine journalism.

4.       Conversion course. It might be now, just as you are finishing your degree, that you realise your passion lies in a different area. Every year people graduate with history/ science/ psychology degrees and go on to become successful lawyers. Well, why not?

Best for... professional careers.

5.       Volunteer... in England. There are thousands of charities in this country that are vying for talented graduates to come on board and support them, even if it’s only for a few hours a week. Aside from the personal satisfaction, what could look better on a CV than time out spent helping others?

Best for... charity sector jobs.

6.       Volunteer... abroad. The amount of companies offering the chance to work abroad –in conservation, teaching, orphanage building, the list goes on– is massive. A few weeks or months out can offer a whole new perspective, as well as giving you the chance to see a completely different part of the world.

Best for... those with the travel bug.

7.       TEFL. Teaching English as a Foreign Language is something that can be done with any degree, and can mean travel all over the world. TEFL qualifications are offered by an abundance of companies and can be a perfect stop-gap before you decide exactly what it is you want to do.

Best for... any native English speaker.

8.       Roles within the SU. For a lot of students taking on a role within the Student’s Union can be a good way to hone skills before tackling the job market. There are huge numbers of perks –you can immerse yourself in debate and democracy, probably live rent free in halls, and keep the security of university for another year.

Best for... political careers.

9.       Moving abroad. How many of us know friends who will be finishing years abroad this summer? My guess is a lot. Ask them to keep an eye open for bar jobs and rooms free close to where they live. Then move out for six months. Take the plunge. What have you got to lose?

Best for... the carefree.

10.   Au pairing. The chance to experience a completely new place, with a salary and somewhere to live thrown in? The security of living with a family? The ease at which au pair placements can be organised means hundreds of graduates take up the opportunity every year.

Best for... those with experience of working with children.

No flowers... just trees?

8.00 – 9.30am

BBC on form... go.

Sophie Rayworth’s orange dress is enough to induce nausea at this time in the morning. ‘I’ve got the best position of ALL the presenters,’ she tells us modestly. ‘Look where I’m sat! Above the ACTUAL door to Westminster Abbey, yeah, the West Door. I’m the most important presenter the BBC has. HA.’ Cackle.

Fearne Cotton appears to be in charge of proceedings, interviewing starstruck teenage boys and the like.  Best friend Edith Bowman, banished to the far reaches of Scotland, has got a hump on at her perfunctory position at St Andrews and is donning some sort of 1950s vintage dress creation –and a ponytail. I feel tension ensuing.

Meanwhile, BBC newbie Alex Jones (stationed in the Berkshire sticks) is just happy to be involved.

Just after 9am, and Kate’s Rolls Royce arrives at the Goring –nearly 2 hours early. What is the driver thinking? It’s enough to make a girl STRESSED. The Rolls Royce pulls up in the wrong place, and the driver, realising he’s got a while to sit around until 9 minutes to 11, nips around the corner for a cuppa and a bacon sandwich. Updates his Tweets whilst walking: ‘got there early, woop! Lol. Off to Costa.’

A Canadian woman is getting interviewed by Fearne. ‘I came to England when I was 13,’ she says. ‘I hoped to meet Diana, but I never did. Here is my baby, she’s 9 months old –I’ve kept her up all night in the cold.’ Questions arise over her sanity, and whether general American stupidity has reached her through cross-border osmosis.

Tara Palmer-Tomkinson has arrived in a very pointy hat. She could take someone’s eye out with that.

Victoria and David Beckham arrive. Vic is wearing a navy blue dress that she has apparently designed herself. It would be a stretch to call it interesting. The best part is the fascinator that looks like it’s about to slip off her forehead. What is the badge that David’s wearing? Feel that mini Beckhams might be missing out.

Hugh Edwards believes that the advent of Becks and co. in Westminster Abbey is ‘incongruous’. They’re off to sit in the knave. Yeah, plebs.

9.30 – 11am

Earl Spencer arrives. Mother wonders why he is there, before realising he is Wills’ uncle.

Wondering what would happen if the Archbishop of Canterbury died before the ceremony...? The plans would be thrown into absolute flux.

Davis Cameron is interviewed, in Downing Street. Presumably SamCam is inside, putting the finishing touches to the cakes she’s made for the ‘street party’ they’re throwing. The question ensues: who’s going to go...?

Fiona Bruce is interviewing good old Boris. She tells him she’s never seen him look so smart. Boris looks flummoxed. ‘Yes,’ he eventually says. ‘Well... what did you expect?’ It’s a good question, really.

Speaker John Bercow and his wife Sally are spied in the Abbey. Don’t take any pictures Sal, yeah?

TV presenter Dan Snow is sat down. His wife has a witch’s hat on.

John Major is the only former Prime Minister attending, in his role as Guardian of Wills’ since his mother’s death. He’s off to sit with the other Knights of the Garter. Lovely.

Still wondering why there are trees lining the knave. Something to do with reliability, or growth, or endurance. Flowers would have looked less bizarre.

Cute story of the morning so far: Colin, generic spectator, tells the camera how he met his wife in the same spot on the Mall on the day of Charles and Diana’s wedding, and now he’s come back with his daughters. Good old Colin. His daughters look embarrassed.

Commentary offered from Alex Miller: ‘Is the Queen rich? Do Prince Charles and people, like, have their own cars or do they just get driven everywhere in SUVs?’ Cue images of Charles plodding down the Mall in a Mini Cooper.

SamCam and Call Me Dave have arrived. SamCam is wearing a pretty emerald dress and a nice necklace. Looking good, but isn’t she stressed out about the fairycakes she’s left in the oven for the Downing Street street party?

Tension is building –Wills is about to leave Clarence House with Harry. It’s the first significant thing we’ll see (sorry Beckhams).

‘London is good,’ says Alex Miller. Brilliant.

Still waiting for Wills. One of the Mall observers is dressed as Dame Edna Everidge. Why?

William is emerging. He’s in his army uniform, which is red. Harry is in his Blues and Royals uniform, very smart. Wave wave.

Alex Miller: ‘William wants to get there 25 minutes early, so he can chill with his homies. When does this programme finish?’

A few seconds later: ‘It’s a nice car. I like that there’s a crown on top of it. Is Harry going to get married?’

Mother, as Wills gets out of the car onto the red carpet: ‘There was a man hoovering that carpet earlier.’

The King of Tonga has turned up now, as have Prince Albert of Monaco and the Serbian Royal Family. Carole and James Middleton have set off, but we can’t see into their Jaguar. Carole is taking notes for her book, provisionally entitled ‘The Middleclass Guide to Greasy Pole Climbing:  How We Pulled Off The Biggest Blinder Of All Time’. She is wearing a ‘sky blue wool crape dress’. Sounds nice. Couldn’t catch the designer.  

Princess Maxima of the Netherlands has arrived. Mother chokes on her cereal, then wonders why anyone would call their child ‘Maxima’, and whether she has a sister called ‘Minima’.

Minor royals are arriving in BUSES! What? This is bizarre. Was there a car cancellation at the last minute, or did they just call 020 Westminster Cabs? No one seems to know which royals it actually is that are deemed ‘minor’ enough to catch the minibus.

Carole Middleton and her son are entering the Abbey. The dress is by Catherine Walker. ‘It fits beautifully,’ says the commentary. ‘The hat isn’t too big.’

Shock moment just picked up on: SamCam has no hat! WTF. Travesty.

The Dukes and Duchesses of Wessex and York, as well as Princesses Beatrice and Eugenie, are on their way. The un-regal royals are piling out of the minibuses now. No one helped them with the doors.

The Prince of Wales and Camilla are coming now. Camilla is royal waving.

THE QUEEN IS ON HER WAY. She’s wearing yellow, like a buttercup. Alex Miller would like to know if the Queen and Phil have been married for 100 years yet?

Bridesmaids Lady Louise Windsor, Camilla’s granddaughter Eliza Lopes, Margarita Armstrong-Jones and Grace Van Cutsum (spelling?) have set off from the Goring Hotel. Cute.

‘Philip is very good at pulling all-nighters,’ says some woman. ‘I know him well.’ Really?

It turns out Queenie and Phil have been married for 63 years.

Camilla’s dress is by Anna Valentine, who also designed her wedding outfit, royal fashion fans.

On the way, Queenie tells Phil, ‘Please, do not saying anything inappropriate, please please please...’

The Queen has got out of the car. It looks like her and the Dean of Westminster have co-ordinated on outfits. Hers is apparently an ‘Angela Pelly Primrose dress’. Medieval fanfare ensues as she enters the Abbey.

First glimpse of Kate! She’s made it into the Rolls Royce with Daddy Middleton, and is now on her way. Her dress is white and lacy, shockingly, and she’s got her hair down. But who designed the dress?

The bridesmaids arrive with Pippa Middleton, who is looking all slinky.

Just a couple of minutes to go before we see Kate’s dress in full, and find out who designed it.

NEWSFLASH: The dress has been designed by Sarah, Creative Director at Alexander McQueen. It’s ivory and lace and looks quite vintagey-timeless. Kate could be a 1950s bride.


11.00-12.30pm

Michael Middleton looks extremely chuffed as he deposits Kate at the altar. Carole looks like she might be welling up.

Onto the first hymn, and the Queen doesn’t look like she’s too into the singing.

Alex Miller, during the hymn: ‘It’s a bit like Songs of Praise...’

Massive drama for a second there, thought the ring wasn’t going to go on! Oh, the chaos!

*....Vows....*

(The Archbishop of Canterbury could’ve combed his hair for the occasion. Oh, it’s ok –he’s put his hat back on, must’ve realised).

Kate and Wills trot to the side and James Middleton does his reading from Romans.

The Bishop of London does some talking. Throws a bit of Chaucer in, nice cultural touch. Kate hitches her chair closer to Wills, who looks bored beyond belief.

Why have all the choir boys got matching glasses? Specsavers group discount?

...And why does the Queen look so glum?

Pippa Middleton heads to the front of the Abbey, to act as witness to the signing of the marriage register. Wills, Kate et al witnesses are moving into the Chapel of St. Edward the Confessor, which I’m told has been a shrine since medieval times. The signing is the only private part of the wedding.

I hope everyone is aware that this music was selected by Kate, from Charles’ IPod. I’m not kidding.

Zara Phillips’ hat has just appeared on screen, as has Princess Beatrice’s. Ridiculous. Mother observes, ‘Eugenie’s done ok.’ Hat-wise.

Also: ‘They have definitely ALL been to Specsavers.’

Wills and Princess Catherine (I think this is what one would prefer to be called now?) are about to emerge from the Chapel. Charles and Camilla have already left... massive fanfare, since they are now officially Heir Apparent and Wife.

Don’t trip coming down the steps, Catherine.

The 2 youngest bridesmaids appear to have disappeared...?

Still envying Kate’s tiny tiny waist as she walks down the aisle.

Mother, on Prince Harry: ‘He could’ve done with a haircut too... looking a bit fluffy... Chelsey’s going to be jealous... if Wills isn’t careful he’s going to stand on that dress, and get the first bollocking of his married life...’

Bridesmaids Grace and Eliza rejoin the wedding party as Kate and Wills leave the Abbey.

Carriage rolls up just in time, and Wills puts his hat on. Now it looks like he has hair!

Wondering where they’re going to go? Down the pub for a slop dinner and a pint? Pie and peas? Bit o’ cava, push the boat out?

Michael Middleton is from Leeds, so probably.

Procession is now underway; Kate and Wills in their 1902 State Landau with the Household Cavalry, on their way to Parliament Square –according to Hugh Edwards.

Crowds are going flag-waving mental.

12 troopers of the Blues and Royals are accompanying the couple as they trot along, all smiley.

Queenie and Phil are getting in their wonky carriage –it looks like one of the wheels has fallen off. You would think they’d have MOT’d it.

BBM from Leeks: ‘Are you enjoying the royal wedding? It all makes me HAPPY J’.

Royal procession has reached the Mall, with Prince H looking after the bridesmaids and pageboys in their carriage. Scary. Looks like they’re having a nice day out, says Hugh Edwards.

The new Duke and Duchess of Cambridge (and their collected families) are about to reach Buckingham Palace.

Alex Miller: ‘Did Obama go?’

I feel that he wasn’t invited. Awkward.

Wills and Kate have gone inside now, for their pie and peas and cava, before the official photographs. Massively hyped kiss on balcony will be in an hour. Kate better top up her lipgloss.

Meanwhile, back at Westminster Abbey, the buses are coming back to pick up the unimportant members of the royal family. Glam.

Carole and Michael Middleton have entered Buckingham Palace, conspiring over what they can do with Pippa now. That spectacle can’t really be topped, sorry Pip.

Fearne is back, interviewing some random children. They’ve got a packed lunch of sandwiches, but they couldn’t see the dress. They think it might have been white...? Really?!

Everyone is waiting for the kiss, now.

Photographs are to be taken in the throne room, as soon as all 650 guests have arrived there for the reception.

12.30-2pm

Some American children are teaching presenter Matt how to curtsey. They have also given him a hat, which they made themselves. How kind.

Spectators are now being accompanied from Westminster Abbey and The Mall to Buckingham Palace for the Balcony Moment.

Blackberry beeps: ‘I want to give Harry a right royal seeing to’, it says. Eek. Someone’s getting a bit too excited.

Back to Edith now, banished in the wilds of Scotland in her massive skirt. She’s having a cocktail and talking to Kate and Wills’ old lecturers. Hugh Edwards tells her to calm down, which is pretty rude... she’s fairly calm, considering she’s been stationed 351 miles away from the action.

The crowd are SURGING towards Buckingham Palace. They look like they’re on wheels. One of the crowd is a man dressed as a knight, who tells Fearne he has walked sixty miles to the capital, setting off on St. George’s Day, to raise money for a children’s hospice in Sussex. Fearne makes a comment about her heels being painful enough, then St. George wanders off to rejoin the revellers. Good luck!

Presenter Matt is in Hyde Park, talking to a woman who is wearing a ‘recycled costume, from when I was Geri in the Spice Girls’. Indeed. Elsewhere, Hugh Edwards spies a tiny bridesmaid peeping out of the balcony windows of Buckingham Palace.

They’re out! The Royal couple appears on the balcony with their families, and 3 year old bridesmaid Grace Von Cutsem puts her hands over her ears. Kate checks that she’s ok. The couple kiss twice, and some crazy revellers jump in the fountain. (They’ll regret that later, when they have to get back on the Tube). Prince Charles carries step-grandaughter Eliza Lopes as the Lancaster Bombers pass over the Palace... and Grace still has her hands over her ears.

When is Kate going to throw her bouquet?

Back in the crowd, presenter Chris is talking to a hat designer. The hat-creation in question includes ‘the toothbrush of a person who used to push Prince William’s pram.’

I wish I was making this up.

And just like that, Queenie decides that the balcony presentation is over, and everyone disappears! That’s it! Bloody hell, what a performance. Clearly Queenie just couldn’t wait for her pie and chips and cava.