For all too long Birmingham has been given a bad name. With an above average crime rate, an accent everyone loves to hate and songs written about it such as Made in Hell, nothing seemingly can go right in the country’s second city.
Like many others, however, I love it, and think it’s a far more interesting and enjoyable city than anyone makes it out to be. Birmingham is one of the most diverse cities in the world, let alone the country and not just culturally, although the city’s large ethnic mix is one of its most defining characteristics. Whether it’s world class sporting venues or internationally renowned culture centers there’s something in Brum for even the greatest skeptics, although the biggest trick when in Birmingham is not to be skeptical.
Sure, if you’re looking for it, you’ll be able to find a gun culture in some areas of the city. But it takes far less straining to find exactly why the city was chosen to be European City of Culture. There are at least seven brilliant theatres (including the Rep, Hippodrome, Alexandra and Crescent), a symphony hall which hosts concerts from world renowned musicians as well as local groups, a series of brilliant gig venues and of course the NEC that hosts major events such as the clothes show live and the NIA that has been home to the IAAF world indoor championships.
The development of the Bull Ring, the Palisades, the Mail Box and the Pavilions has made once no-go areas palatable to even the most salubrious, but it’s the experiences that come along with shopping that really make a day out in Brum great. The Big Wok is a Chinese chain that has just three restaurants in the UK, one of which is just round the corner from the new Bull Ring. The food is brilliant, and for a fiver for all you can eat you really can’t go wrong, but the experience of eating in a warehouse-size canteen alongside people who have come from all over the world to make Birmingham their home is a uniquely brummie experience.
The city also has a vibrant art circuit, second only to London in the UK. There is the main Birmingham Art gallery off Victoria square, but in Brindley Place is the fabulous Ikon gallery which puts on some of the most cutting edge and daring contemporary artists including the likes of Simon Patterson, Ryan Garden and Harminder Singh Judge and still charges nothing to get in!
It would take pages to record all the highlights of the city centre—the rag market, oasis market, swordfish records—and even longer to go into the details of the wonders of the different districts—Mosley’s amazing pub Horse and Hounds, Bartley Green’s chip shop, King’s Heath’s French delicatessen Maison Maysi—but even from this brief glimpse at the country’s most exciting city there’s no denying there’s more to Birmingham than the crime rate.
Tuesday, 29 June 2010
Monday, 29 March 2010
Sarah Schute: Before the Dawn, chapter 2
Brina looked at her watch. It read 05:32. She should be back by now. She should have been back ages ago and would have been too if Marcus wasn’t so damned elusive. She’d been searching the streets for him every night this week to no avail. She wished he’d just come out and fight; but no, he seemed to have gone into hiding. He was planning something, she could tell, and whatever it was it was not going to be good; not for her, not for the humans, not for any of them.
Fang growled beside her. He knew, as she did, that they couldn’t stay much longer. Dawn was coming, she could smell it, feel it. Daylight wasn’t for the likes of them. Theirs was the night. She preferred it that way now. For the first century or so she had missed the sun. Now she wouldn’t have it any other way. She was good at her job and liked it and the perks that came with it. She’d been brought into this life abruptly and against her will but she had settled into it quite nicely. Sure, there were down sides but all in all she was… well maybe not happy exactly but she was content… ish.
She had been, at least, until Xandra had gone and dumped Waylan on her. Sometimes she hated that bitch. Why did she have to play babysitter when there were hundreds of others who’d do? Others that would be far better at it and who actually liked people. If she’d learnt anything in her one-thousand-six-hundred-and-fifty-something years it was that you couldn’t trust people.
She hadn’t always been so sceptical. There had been a time, a rather long time ago… But no, she wouldn’t think about that, couldn’t think about it. Even now the betrayal still cut her deeply. Yes, things were far better now. The only person she could trust was herself. The past held nothing but bad memories and she couldn’t let herself be distracted by them, not when there was a crazed murderer on the loose. The sooner she killed Marcus the sooner Waylan would be gone and she and Fang could get back to their old life.
Fang gave her a little nudge as if he agreed with her. She smiled down at him. He really was magnificent. His dark grey pelt shimmered in the moonlight and his eyes sparkled with intelligence. He padded along beside her, his huge paws making not a sound. She loved her wolf. She knew that he wasn’t really hers. He stayed with her out of choice and she wouldn’t be able to stop him if he ever did decide to leave. But she loved him all the more for that.
A cry echoed in the night. She felt Fang go tense beside her. His ears were pricked and he had his hackles up. He bared his teeth and gave a low growl before sprinting into a dark alleyway. She was right behind.
The darkness was near complete, the buildings either side blocking out the light. A human would struggle to see more than a foot in front of them but Brina had no trouble seeing in the dark.
A muffled sob came from the end of the alley. Swift and silent, the pair headed straight for it. They were there in seconds, her inhuman speed another of the advantages. She could make out four, no five figures – two human, three not. The humans appeared to be in their late teens; one male, one female. Of the others, the vampires, she recognised Lorcán who seemed to be the leader of the trio. A toned six foot eight, he had long black hair, pitch black eyes and a love for cruelty that was matched only by his lust for blood. He was the cruel, powerful and frighteningly intelligent right hand man and most trusted adviser to Dante, the self-proclaimed ruler of the vampires. Between Lorcán and Dante, which she hated more was a tough choice.
Fang growled beside her. He knew, as she did, that they couldn’t stay much longer. Dawn was coming, she could smell it, feel it. Daylight wasn’t for the likes of them. Theirs was the night. She preferred it that way now. For the first century or so she had missed the sun. Now she wouldn’t have it any other way. She was good at her job and liked it and the perks that came with it. She’d been brought into this life abruptly and against her will but she had settled into it quite nicely. Sure, there were down sides but all in all she was… well maybe not happy exactly but she was content… ish.
She had been, at least, until Xandra had gone and dumped Waylan on her. Sometimes she hated that bitch. Why did she have to play babysitter when there were hundreds of others who’d do? Others that would be far better at it and who actually liked people. If she’d learnt anything in her one-thousand-six-hundred-and-fifty-something years it was that you couldn’t trust people.
She hadn’t always been so sceptical. There had been a time, a rather long time ago… But no, she wouldn’t think about that, couldn’t think about it. Even now the betrayal still cut her deeply. Yes, things were far better now. The only person she could trust was herself. The past held nothing but bad memories and she couldn’t let herself be distracted by them, not when there was a crazed murderer on the loose. The sooner she killed Marcus the sooner Waylan would be gone and she and Fang could get back to their old life.
Fang gave her a little nudge as if he agreed with her. She smiled down at him. He really was magnificent. His dark grey pelt shimmered in the moonlight and his eyes sparkled with intelligence. He padded along beside her, his huge paws making not a sound. She loved her wolf. She knew that he wasn’t really hers. He stayed with her out of choice and she wouldn’t be able to stop him if he ever did decide to leave. But she loved him all the more for that.
A cry echoed in the night. She felt Fang go tense beside her. His ears were pricked and he had his hackles up. He bared his teeth and gave a low growl before sprinting into a dark alleyway. She was right behind.
The darkness was near complete, the buildings either side blocking out the light. A human would struggle to see more than a foot in front of them but Brina had no trouble seeing in the dark.
A muffled sob came from the end of the alley. Swift and silent, the pair headed straight for it. They were there in seconds, her inhuman speed another of the advantages. She could make out four, no five figures – two human, three not. The humans appeared to be in their late teens; one male, one female. Of the others, the vampires, she recognised Lorcán who seemed to be the leader of the trio. A toned six foot eight, he had long black hair, pitch black eyes and a love for cruelty that was matched only by his lust for blood. He was the cruel, powerful and frighteningly intelligent right hand man and most trusted adviser to Dante, the self-proclaimed ruler of the vampires. Between Lorcán and Dante, which she hated more was a tough choice.
Rachel Baker: The Coup
“Saffire! Aren’t you coming out to the parade?” Hana tugged at my arm, causing me to drop the saucepan. It clanged heavily against the stone floor. Grinning, Hana picked up the pan and presented it with a flourish.
I put it away and smoothed my skirt, trying to brush away the stains along with the crumbs of the bread that I had been baking. “Sure, but don’t moan at me for money. Everything is so overpriced.”
Hana rolled her eyes as she skipped to the door. She tapped her foot impatiently while I shoved on my old, comfortable shoes.
We stepped into the crisp, autumn air, barely feeling the watery sunlight. Hana’s teeth chattered. I could see the flags over the tops of the houses, the bright colours against the grey sky.
I expected to be greeeted by neighbours who were also on their way to the town square. Usually they smiled and nodded when they saw us, and sometimes gave little wrapped sweets to Hana, but only a few even acknowledged us; the rest had distant, far away gazes. I wondered if it was something I had done.
Hana was skipping quite a way in front of me now, and I had to jog to catch up. The mood in the square was oddly subdued. I remembered last year’s festival – the excited crowd, the carefree, joyous atmosphere.
“Can we please have a look at the horses?” Hana tugged the sleeve of my blouse, her face looking hopefully up into mine.
I wiped a smudge of dirt from the side of her face, and nodded. We jostled and pushed our way through the crowds, to where the livestock were penned on market days. Hana let out a gasp of dismay. Usually, there were at least twenty horses on show. This year there were five scattered around. Hana forced herself through the congregation at the fence to take a better look, and I stood to the side.
The stable master was talking in a hushed voice to a young woman, who hung over the edge of the fence. I sidled towards him. Normally people in the town didn’t keep secrets.
“I heard it’s today,” the stable master was saying, “I wouldn’t be surprised if riots break out.”
I quickly turned towards the horses, but the stable master had seen me staring and their conversation stopped.
Hana leapt over to me and grinned. I smiled back, the feeling of anxiety weighing me down, and we walked back into the crowd that was forming into two lines along either side of the main track.
The procession was coming – all bright colours and flamboyance. The dancers were first, whirling and twirling in their floaty costumes like petals skimming across the wind on an autumn day. Hana, who loved the dancers, was the most enthusiastic member of the crowd, cheering and clapping.
Drums then boomed through the air, and the clapping stopped. The cheering changed to lowered whispers and small gasps. The flags that had been fluttering in the breeze abruptly stopped. The soldiers clomped their boots for the final beat. Their weapons flashed menacingly in the sunlight and the crowd shuffled backwards. Silence smothered the square.
I put it away and smoothed my skirt, trying to brush away the stains along with the crumbs of the bread that I had been baking. “Sure, but don’t moan at me for money. Everything is so overpriced.”
Hana rolled her eyes as she skipped to the door. She tapped her foot impatiently while I shoved on my old, comfortable shoes.
We stepped into the crisp, autumn air, barely feeling the watery sunlight. Hana’s teeth chattered. I could see the flags over the tops of the houses, the bright colours against the grey sky.
I expected to be greeeted by neighbours who were also on their way to the town square. Usually they smiled and nodded when they saw us, and sometimes gave little wrapped sweets to Hana, but only a few even acknowledged us; the rest had distant, far away gazes. I wondered if it was something I had done.
Hana was skipping quite a way in front of me now, and I had to jog to catch up. The mood in the square was oddly subdued. I remembered last year’s festival – the excited crowd, the carefree, joyous atmosphere.
“Can we please have a look at the horses?” Hana tugged the sleeve of my blouse, her face looking hopefully up into mine.
I wiped a smudge of dirt from the side of her face, and nodded. We jostled and pushed our way through the crowds, to where the livestock were penned on market days. Hana let out a gasp of dismay. Usually, there were at least twenty horses on show. This year there were five scattered around. Hana forced herself through the congregation at the fence to take a better look, and I stood to the side.
The stable master was talking in a hushed voice to a young woman, who hung over the edge of the fence. I sidled towards him. Normally people in the town didn’t keep secrets.
“I heard it’s today,” the stable master was saying, “I wouldn’t be surprised if riots break out.”
I quickly turned towards the horses, but the stable master had seen me staring and their conversation stopped.
Hana leapt over to me and grinned. I smiled back, the feeling of anxiety weighing me down, and we walked back into the crowd that was forming into two lines along either side of the main track.
The procession was coming – all bright colours and flamboyance. The dancers were first, whirling and twirling in their floaty costumes like petals skimming across the wind on an autumn day. Hana, who loved the dancers, was the most enthusiastic member of the crowd, cheering and clapping.
Drums then boomed through the air, and the clapping stopped. The cheering changed to lowered whispers and small gasps. The flags that had been fluttering in the breeze abruptly stopped. The soldiers clomped their boots for the final beat. Their weapons flashed menacingly in the sunlight and the crowd shuffled backwards. Silence smothered the square.
Rachael Booty: Red Eyes
“Honey, what’s wrong? Have you been crying?”
“Mummy, the kids at school won’t talk to me. Why do they hate me?”
Mummy picked me up off the floor and placed me on her lap. “Michelle, honey, they don’t hate you. They’re just told to hate you.”
Sniffing, I replied. “Told to?”
“Because of your eyes.”
I climbed off my Mummy’s lap, and looked into the mirror by my bed. Red irises stared back at me. “What’s wrong with my eyes? Daddy used to say they’re beautiful, just like his.” I glanced at my Mummy for a moment.
She was finding it hard to keep the tears in, choking them back before replying. “Yes they are, Michelle, but they’re… different from most people’s.”
“Different?”
Mummy gently touched my shoulders. Her own deep blue eyes battled with tears. “Yes. But always remember this, my love. The children at school may be afraid of you, the adults may be afraid of you, but I’ll never be afraid, because you have a beautiful soul, and I’ll always love you, no matter what colour your eyes are. Okay?” She gave me her best smile.
I found myself giggling, jumping into her waiting arms. She always had a way of making me happy. “I love you, mummy!”
“I know, and I’ll always love you.”
“Even If my eyes turned green?”
Mummy laughed, which was a rare sound for me to hear. “I’d call you my green giant.” She led me to the door. “Come on then, let’s go and make some dinner.”
While we were eating, there was banging on the cottage door, and chanting.
Mummy ran to the window. Her body began to shake violently. I remembered the day I watched Daddy being hanged. Mummy looked back at me. She ran and grabbed my shoulders.
“Michelle, listen to me. It’s not safe here right now. You must leave, and only return when the sun rises. Do you understand?”
I stared into Mummy’s eyes. “Will you be leaving with me?”
She smiled. “Of course I will, I’ll be right behind you.”
I turned and ran for the back door. My feet led me to the hill behind the cottage. Behind me I could hear the door breaking, and the chanting, as flocks of men and women pushed through the house. For a moment, it was completely silent. I thought there was a hope that they were listening to Mummy, and that maybe they would agree, and leave the house alone, and accept me.
But this was only a prayer, a tiny thought from an innocent child. Reality was never that kind. I knew then, as I heard the gunshot, that my Mummy had broken her promise, and I would never see her again.
“Mummy, the kids at school won’t talk to me. Why do they hate me?”
Mummy picked me up off the floor and placed me on her lap. “Michelle, honey, they don’t hate you. They’re just told to hate you.”
Sniffing, I replied. “Told to?”
“Because of your eyes.”
I climbed off my Mummy’s lap, and looked into the mirror by my bed. Red irises stared back at me. “What’s wrong with my eyes? Daddy used to say they’re beautiful, just like his.” I glanced at my Mummy for a moment.
She was finding it hard to keep the tears in, choking them back before replying. “Yes they are, Michelle, but they’re… different from most people’s.”
“Different?”
Mummy gently touched my shoulders. Her own deep blue eyes battled with tears. “Yes. But always remember this, my love. The children at school may be afraid of you, the adults may be afraid of you, but I’ll never be afraid, because you have a beautiful soul, and I’ll always love you, no matter what colour your eyes are. Okay?” She gave me her best smile.
I found myself giggling, jumping into her waiting arms. She always had a way of making me happy. “I love you, mummy!”
“I know, and I’ll always love you.”
“Even If my eyes turned green?”
Mummy laughed, which was a rare sound for me to hear. “I’d call you my green giant.” She led me to the door. “Come on then, let’s go and make some dinner.”
While we were eating, there was banging on the cottage door, and chanting.
Mummy ran to the window. Her body began to shake violently. I remembered the day I watched Daddy being hanged. Mummy looked back at me. She ran and grabbed my shoulders.
“Michelle, listen to me. It’s not safe here right now. You must leave, and only return when the sun rises. Do you understand?”
I stared into Mummy’s eyes. “Will you be leaving with me?”
She smiled. “Of course I will, I’ll be right behind you.”
I turned and ran for the back door. My feet led me to the hill behind the cottage. Behind me I could hear the door breaking, and the chanting, as flocks of men and women pushed through the house. For a moment, it was completely silent. I thought there was a hope that they were listening to Mummy, and that maybe they would agree, and leave the house alone, and accept me.
But this was only a prayer, a tiny thought from an innocent child. Reality was never that kind. I knew then, as I heard the gunshot, that my Mummy had broken her promise, and I would never see her again.
Yung-Lu Lau: Two sonnets
I
Yellow topaz hair and your sea blue eyes
Over the jewel which makes one swim and fly
Underneath the midnight sky, stars and sun.
So little speech yet it is so much fun.
Although it’s weird you seem to always stare
Round the corner. I ask, if I dare
What you stare at. But though your mind,
How far it is, acts so strangely but kind
Before you fall fast, back down to the Earth
Really stunning, never hitting a nerve.
How hard it is for anyone to know
What one thinks when they see you shine and glow.
Now that I know, I cannot say, as such
Everlasting a rose can say so much.
II
Within the pale, soft, tender lips of yours
Which grant, that I know, that I’d never touch
The same way we play dreams in our games.
Although you hold, ever more, ever less,
The keys to the truth, the lies, and the rest
You may lie, or speak of only lies but
No matter how deep the truth of the lies
I will find, the only wisdom within
One self, to find the heart, to break the locks
The locks of the dreams, the locks of the Games,
Only to find my rest, to find my peace,
The only place, which has my truth, my lease
To my mind and soul, held by the soft lips
Of yours, binds me to a solar eclipse
Yellow topaz hair and your sea blue eyes
Over the jewel which makes one swim and fly
Underneath the midnight sky, stars and sun.
So little speech yet it is so much fun.
Although it’s weird you seem to always stare
Round the corner. I ask, if I dare
What you stare at. But though your mind,
How far it is, acts so strangely but kind
Before you fall fast, back down to the Earth
Really stunning, never hitting a nerve.
How hard it is for anyone to know
What one thinks when they see you shine and glow.
Now that I know, I cannot say, as such
Everlasting a rose can say so much.
II
Within the pale, soft, tender lips of yours
Which grant, that I know, that I’d never touch
The same way we play dreams in our games.
Although you hold, ever more, ever less,
The keys to the truth, the lies, and the rest
You may lie, or speak of only lies but
No matter how deep the truth of the lies
I will find, the only wisdom within
One self, to find the heart, to break the locks
The locks of the dreams, the locks of the Games,
Only to find my rest, to find my peace,
The only place, which has my truth, my lease
To my mind and soul, held by the soft lips
Of yours, binds me to a solar eclipse
Grace Roffe: Four Poems
Into a brittle shell a yoke is growing
Into a brittle shell
a yolk is growing
The golden protein from books
daubed with another's blunt musings
My mouth hosts an odd charm
Folded and Whipped
a different tongue-
like a child weaned from a spoon
Aerobic noises
Cream vowels pouring,
Sounds- foreign to taste
become my own.
Through cold chewing and trial and trial
take and stay
make home
Surrogate
Oh Galileo
with your forbidden science
Poison me slowly
The Devil's creed
Holy, Catholic, Apostolic
and all that
Nail your nails
where you started with your teeth
Am I someone's
sunlit dream
Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me
Oh embryo
knitted and known
a group of cells
that are not my own
Image of God
Homoerotic to the last
Love me
Subjunctive Thomas
Ever doubting
Diligence forgotten and
wisdom denied
Lost numbers to quantify
love
a small dagger
in a sword's case
Soap on a rope bishop
Soap on a rope bishop
with a gun in her mouth
found alive + well
will spend her death in heaven
As she lived her life in hell
Wrong profession for liberation
Preach the drool of hate
abstention
drill a phobia with the mother's milk
OH HELL, how i forgot you loved me
Opulence carved into her left arm
The church laps up her blood
to pass on
its disease
HIV positive- me
And now the anger softens
And now the anger softens
Like their pretty boys
In their cruel chastity
Run
Like antelope into the lions paws
Gripping, Helplessly- Numbered
Oh Love
You curled up to the world
Before life itself was begun
A bud of petals
Taken and split and spread
What did you see?
What did you see for? Me?
Boy- your insight
has been taken
Your portrait of sin
Is no more blackened
than my mother's mind
Virgin Queen sets sail
Into a brittle shell
a yolk is growing
The golden protein from books
daubed with another's blunt musings
My mouth hosts an odd charm
Folded and Whipped
a different tongue-
like a child weaned from a spoon
Aerobic noises
Cream vowels pouring,
Sounds- foreign to taste
become my own.
Through cold chewing and trial and trial
take and stay
make home
Surrogate
Oh Galileo
with your forbidden science
Poison me slowly
The Devil's creed
Holy, Catholic, Apostolic
and all that
Nail your nails
where you started with your teeth
Am I someone's
sunlit dream
Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me
Oh embryo
knitted and known
a group of cells
that are not my own
Image of God
Homoerotic to the last
Love me
Subjunctive Thomas
Ever doubting
Diligence forgotten and
wisdom denied
Lost numbers to quantify
love
a small dagger
in a sword's case
Soap on a rope bishop
Soap on a rope bishop
with a gun in her mouth
found alive + well
will spend her death in heaven
As she lived her life in hell
Wrong profession for liberation
Preach the drool of hate
abstention
drill a phobia with the mother's milk
OH HELL, how i forgot you loved me
Opulence carved into her left arm
The church laps up her blood
to pass on
its disease
HIV positive- me
And now the anger softens
And now the anger softens
Like their pretty boys
In their cruel chastity
Run
Like antelope into the lions paws
Gripping, Helplessly- Numbered
Oh Love
You curled up to the world
Before life itself was begun
A bud of petals
Taken and split and spread
What did you see?
What did you see for? Me?
Boy- your insight
has been taken
Your portrait of sin
Is no more blackened
than my mother's mind
Virgin Queen sets sail
Yung-Lu Lau: Terza Rima
The vast amount of great knowledge you give
And the greatest joy for me that you are
You give me, everyday, the joyful life
For without and with you, my mind is far
Far in the distance which I discover
High in the midnight moon sky like a star
For saddened I am, for I'm just a book lover
As though your pages grow wide, thin and small
It is amazing for what your words uncover!
And that I will always be trapped, within your wall.
But let me hope, that cause of you, my mind won't fall.
And the greatest joy for me that you are
You give me, everyday, the joyful life
For without and with you, my mind is far
Far in the distance which I discover
High in the midnight moon sky like a star
For saddened I am, for I'm just a book lover
As though your pages grow wide, thin and small
It is amazing for what your words uncover!
And that I will always be trapped, within your wall.
But let me hope, that cause of you, my mind won't fall.
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