Change the world

York is a stunningly beautiful city, isn't it? Maybe I was wandering around today with the eyes of a tourist, but almost every corner I turned seemed to provide me with another pleasing vista. Perhaps because I'd so recently spent time with university friends the whole place seemed to be almost buzzing with forgotten memories. As I walked along Retreat Lane, passing a roll call of floppy-haired students, I suddenly remembered the girl called Ann with teeth like a porcelain sink who used to laugh uncontrollably whilst saying "I'm so depressed." Then, for some reason, I found myself thinking about the thick set German cellist who had such terrible back pains that she was forced to wander around the campus til late at night until she was so physically exhausted all she could do was fall asleep. At one stage these images were running through me like a cine film in the back of my mind. I felt giddy...

It was a very early start. I woke up with my teeth clenched shut yet again and didn't feel quite awake until I
arrived at King's Cross. The man in the buffet car on the way up to York was ineffectual beyond words. I stood for ten minutes whilst he tried to deal with a woman whose only crime was wanting to pay with a card. She was embarrassed. I was embarrassed. He soldiered on. He actually left his post before serving me simply to unpack a box of muffins, which he positioned like a savant on a shelf. "Bear with me," he said, "this will only take five minutes." Five minutes? I only wanted a cup of tea! When he finally served me he asked if I could help him look for his glasses. 

I spent the afternoon at York City Council's offices judging the poems that have been entered into our competition to find a lyric for the Ebor Vox composition. I can't reveal who won but I am excited to set what they wrote to music. It is very clever, very personal and very touching in places.

There were some astonishingly awful entries: one or two of which wouldn't have been out of place on an episode of Countdown. I'm thrilled to announce that someone actually managed to rhyme York with Pork and another poem began "what is York? Is it a village? Is it a town? Is it a suburb?"Um... I kinda thought it was a city!

This evening's event took place at the university. It was a careers guidance do, with all sorts of alumni talking to current students. I felt like a bit of a spare part, although I hope I managed to inspire some kids afterwards. I genuinely think this generation have the potential to change the world - BECAUSE of the recession. They're entering the arts world with no preconceptions and crucially, no expectations. Not expecting to earn money places you in a very powerful position. We're entering an era where 40 people will cram themselves into a fringe venue and put on an astonishing piece of theatre for the hell of it. Feature films get shot on mobile phones and edited on mac books. It's an incredibly exciting time, and these kids need to rip up the rule books and start again. 

350 years ago, Pepys wrote a rather bitty diary entry which flitted from one theme to another. He worked hard in the office. He was troubled by news from his family's estate in Huntingdonshire, which had been badly damaged in the recent storm. His uncle's will was still not fully resolved, a year or more since the old man died. But, his new camelott riding coat had been delivered, so thank heavens for small mercies!