Vintage Vixen

Ow am ya, me babbies?

On Tuesday I wore my vintage embroidered Indian maxi (the twin of my navy one) to meet up with my friend Annie at the railway station.

Our destination was the New Art Gallery, Walsall's show stopping contemporary art gallery, designed by the architects Caruso St John and opened by the late queen in May, 2000. Costing over £21 million, the five storey building is clad in pale terracotta and has a floor area of 5,000 square metres. The interior is clad in Douglas Fir and a lot of concrete.

After the largest coffee in the world at the in-house Costa we took the lift up to the fourth floor. How do we know we've reached the correct floor? 'Cos Walsall lad, Slade's Noddy Holder, announces each floor, in his inimitable Black Country accent!

Jaskirt Dhaliwal-Boora's temporary exhibition, Fractured Landscapes and How We Heal, looks at the role of how nature and creativity can play in healing from trauma, especially in the context of male violence and abuse against women.

In the UK, on average, one woman is killed every 3 days, globally it's one woman every ten minutes.

The recorded birdsong, the photographs of trees printed on textured paper and the voille panels gently wafting in the breeze really did make Annie and I feel like we were in a bucolic setting miles away and not four storeys up, looking out over Walsall's post-industrial landscape. I was quite surprised at how green the town looked from up above. I live just behind St Matthew's church, the steeple of which you can see on the right.

Ten.8 afterimage (on the third floor) explores the legacy and enduring impact of Ten.8 (1979–1992), a photography journal that emerged from the Midlands’ radical cultural and political landscape. Ten.8 played a key role in shaping critical debates about representation and the politics of photography.

We were transfixed by The Self-Portrait (1980). In 1979, the residents of Handsworth were invited into a photography studio and to use the self-timer provided to capture their images. An early selfie!

These images capture what we both love about living in the West Midlands, our diversity is our strength. And just look at some of these outfits...proof that the 1970s really was the best for outstanding fashion!

The second floor houses the Garman Ryan Collection, an incredible archive of sculptures and paintings by modern masters including a large selection of work by Jacob Epstein as well as many significant works by European artists including Vincent van Gogh, Claude Monet, Turner, Corot, Renoir and Constable represented in prints, sketches, drawings, paintings and sculptures. The collection was donated to the people of Walsall in 1973 by Epstein's late wife Lady Epstein aka Kathleen Garman (who was born in Wednesbury) and her friend, Sally Ryan.

These Epstein sculptures are, to many of us Walsall folk, old friends. We've grown up visiting them and are immensely proud to call them our own. I get so pissed off with people whingeing about the state of our town. Yes, we don't have many shops but we have one of the most important art galleries in the UK and it's free!!

Taken from the second floor. It was a gloomy day but how beautiful is this industrial landscape?

Annie treated herself to some postcards in the gift shop before we headed to Spoons for lunch - two Mediterreanean veg pizzas with a bowl of chips to share (£14)

And, of course, the obligatory Spoons toilet selfi. Keeping it classy!

Thanks for a fabulous day, Annie! Let's no leave it so long next time and thanks for the fabulous gifts, Greek mountain tea and a Boujee Peacock candle, handmade in the Black Country!

Back at home Jon & I started watching Legends. Created by Neil Forsyth who also wrote the brilliant BBC drama, The Gold, it tells the true story of a group of British undercover customs officers who infiltrated the drug world in the 1990s. It's well worth a watch and the Stone Roses, Happy Mondays, Cocteau Twins soundtrack is sublime (HERE) .

On Wednesday, after our swim and breakfast in Wetherspoons (my fourth visit in a week!), I popped into the training academy around the corner for my second hair cut in six months. Carys, the young woman who cut my hair and Jo, ther supervisor, understood exactly what I wanted....the bare minimum cut from the length along with some face-framing layers. Forty-five minutes and a mere £10 later, this was the result.

Forgive the weird effect, I think I selected portrait rather than photo.

Wednesday's weather was abysmal and I spent the rest of the day indoors. Luckily it wasn't raining when we walked down to the pool at 7am although I was a bit chilly in my vintage Afghan dress and Ayesha Davar quilted waistcoat.

Because of Eurovision (something I've never had any interest in) Race Across the World was on a day early so we watched that before getting stuck into another three episodes of Legends.

On Thursday we'd intended to do some work in the garden but - again - the weather gods conspired against us and chucked everything in our path, hailstorms, thunder, lightening and torrential rain. I managed to pot up a couple of cuttings before I admitted defeat and did some stuff around the house instead.

Of course, a day in doesn't mean slothering around in a dressing gown. This amazing 1970s printed cotton velvet jacket by Focus was a recent Vinted find. A production company were selling off some of their costume archive to raise money for charity and apparently it was once worn in a film.

Later we watched the concluding episode of Legends and the BBC's Kidnapped by My Mum, a disturbing documentary about Alex Batty who was taken away from his grandmother, his legal guardian, spending six years on the run with his conspiracy theory-obsessed mother and grandfather.

We also caught up with episide 4 of comedy horror series, Widow's Bay where Beach Reads turns out to be the self help book from hell.

I'm glad I didn't pack this Samuel Sherman chevron knit wool skirt away, it was very necessary on our chilly walk to the pool on Friday morning!

After our Spoons breakfast and a look around the chazzas, back at home I played around with my hair, creating some Farrah-style flicky out bits.

We did okay in the charity shops, three 1980s waistcoats, two groovy silk ties and a 1970s dagger collar St Michael. I had to collect a Vinted parcel on the way home containing two unworn Ianthe print Origin blouses (which sold in Liberty in the 1980s). I also found two gorgeous John Lewis navy blue stoneware plates (to replace our current rather chipped ones) and a couple of 50p books and Jon snaffled two shirts (currently on the drying rack!) and three pieces of choice 1980s vinyl.

How about this for a coincidence? On a random internet search this week I came across a fair trade boutique called Powell Crafts which, although it had been trading since 1962, I'd never heard of prevously. Imagine how surprised I was to find one of their Indian block printed dressing gowns (which retail at £51.99) in the British Heart Foundation for £4? I'm being prepared and sorting out my hospital wardrobe.

It's scary how quickly my nail appointment rolls around. I was tempted to have to same Cornflower colour as last time but in the end plumped for Supporting Orange (bizarre name!) to match my tangerine lip gloss and my swimming cap.