Lost in lace

A November day in Brum

This weekend has been proper November weather here in the UK: foggy, damp and cold, with grey skies hanging heavily overhead like a sodden mantle. Breath condensing in the air in front of me and fingertips like icicles, what better place to seek shelter than Birmingham's sumptuous museum and art gallery.

Built by the city's founding fathers in the late 1800s, the museum and gallery is a magnificent example of Victorian splendour and testament to our ancestors' belief in the importance of art in education. I'll be writing in a later post about its most treasured collection (in my opinion) of pre-Raphaelite paintings, but for now I'm focusing on a thoroughly modern exhibition exploring an ancient technique: Lost in Lace.

The Lost in Lace exhibition (which is free by the way) features UK-based and international artists playing with lace - and the curiosity of it as a deeply structured material, but one which is founded on holes and space (I'm clearly missing my vocation here as a museum curator).

One of the works I found especially interesting was a mammoth inverted cathedral, based on Gaudi's unfinished church in Barcelona, which was essentially thousands upon thousands of beads/crystals, strung and hung from the ceiling.

Completely fascinating was a video of a fragment of 19th Century black Chantilly lace under a microscope. To me it felt like I was crawling through alien vegetation, helped I think by the soundtrack of a munching silkworm.

Equally curious was 'Lace the final frontier' - a striking red installation, which on closer inspection turned out to made of wood and composed entirely of military motifs such as by-planes, soldiers and missiles.

There were also some pretty spooky figures trapped behind a tangled web of black mesh.

Finally, there was an interesting comparison between white and black lace - twisting their connotations of virginity and seduction. The white formed a wall, impossible to pass through but permitting a flood of light; the black was fashioned into a medieval style gateway, entirely passable but forbidding.

But before I come over all Freudian, might I suggest that if you're in the Birmingham area, you take in Lost in Lace, along with the rest of Birmingham Museum and Art Gallery, and if you come before Christmas, you can combine it with the fabulous German market too!

The morning commute

"We're sorry to announce that the [insert train here] has been cancelled".

Now I'm not usually one to use my internet presence to moan, but I think on this occasion I'm justified in making in exception.

Yesterday was one of those days that the regular public transport commuter has come to accept with weary resignation; it doesn't happen often enough to make leaving the car at home completely unviable, but in truth happens more often than it should.

What I'm describing is 'the journey to work from hell'.

Here's what happened:

8.00am - Arrive at the station to discover my usual train has been cancelled; no indication as to why. No big deal, there's another 5 minutes later.

8.20am - Train was supposed to arrive 15 minutes ago. Information boards say 'on time'. There is no-one around to ask.

8.23am - Finally, a bit of information - our train is on its why but has been delayed due to signalling problems.

8.25am - Train arrives. Lots of people get on it. Conductor announces that all trains going to my destination are being delayed up to 20 minutes due to signalling problems. Fine - I'm going to be late but at least I'm on my way.

8.30am - Minutes after pulling out of the station, with passengers safely locked in, the conductor announces that the train company has decided to terminate the service early - leaving us in some random part of the region most of us have probably never even been to.

8.40am - We all trundle off the train. Information boards on the platform suggest there might be another train on the way. There's no-one around to ask. I overhear a guy in a high visibility jacket who's being circled by angry commuters that there are no more trains and that we will have to get a bus to the next town and then onto the tram to our destination. Pretty sure this guy isn't a customer service representative.

8.45am - Having wandered down to the ticket office to ask what's going on (there's only one person dealing with scores of commuters, of course), I notice the information boards have finally been updated - all trains are delayed by up to 60 minutes or cancelled due to signalling problems. We're a bit late in the day for information now aren't we? The inconvenience has already been caused.

8.46am - Deciding to follow high-vis guy's advice (and being something of a sheep), I leave the station and spot a group of suit-clad people waiting at a bus stop across the road - this must be my gang.

8.55am - Bus successfully negotiated, now to find the tram. Thankfully there are signs.

9.00am - I'm on the tram and on my way. I get to work more than an hour late.

And the best thing of all? I could have just caught the tram from Birmingham at the start of all this and would have arrived on time, debacle avoided.

So why is it, that the train companies/station staff seem completely unwilling to offer any information about a situation that was clearly not going to go away and was going to affect hundreds, if not thousands, of people?

Why can it not be someone's job at each station, in the case of severe disruption, to don a high-visibility jacket and a walkie-talkie and go down on to the platform to make announcements and answer questions. It's not hard is it?

And why do station information boards say trains will be on time right up until they are due to arrive? If there is a signalling problem 15 miles away, I'm pretty sure that train companies/station managers, whoever is responsible, is aware of the issue well before their passengers are due to be catching their trains.

Seriously, it's ok to say: "we are sorry, but due to signalling problems there are no trains this morning. Please speak to one of our friendly advisers on the concourse who will help you to plan alternative methods of public transport" (there are plenty). We won't think less of you and it is infinitely more agreeable than being dumped en route and left to fend for ourselves.