I’m writing this whilst drunk on love, ale and one too many slices of locally sourced Gouda. I’m happy I’ve came back here for the week, it’s actually been great.

Masses of HCB at FEASTER. Img © wearefierce.org

Being the controversial chick I am, this Easter I did something arts related (as opposed to the usual family infused fiasco of an enormous Sunday roast and shit TV on channel 5). So anywho, on this dreary Sunday of April, I went for a walk with Hamish Fulton; artist (and walker!) extraordinaire.

The idea was that a group of people (Fulton included) ventured  on a walk in the Eastside of Birmingham on Curzon Street; a beautiful yet abandoned stretch of land that runs parallel to the Birmingham Museum of Science.

On registering for the walk with Ikon Gallery I was e-mailed a disclaimer, explaining that whilst the walk was not too enduring, I should dress for the weather, as the entire two hours would be spent outside.

WHY DID I NOT LISTEN TO THIS ONE TINY BIT OF ADVICE?! The weather was quite frankly, awful. I’ve never seen something so gloomy, but I thought that just carrying an umbrella would put me at an advantage. How utterly wrong I was. Okay, so I was naïve... I thought that the hours would be spent walking outside. On briefing us for the walk, Fulton left everyone astounded. Rather than moving one's legs continually for 2 hours, we all had to find a straight line situated on the flat ground of Curzon Street car park and walk from one end to the other in two hours. A gong would be sounded to mark both the start and end of the walk. Mobiles, talking and any other human interaction is also vetoed for the duration of those two hours too. Now that... doesn't sound difficult. Until you actually search for lines on the car park and realise that they don't extend beyond 5 metres. So that involves walking slowly. To the avg. pace of say, I step per every 10 minutes?!

Challenge accepted, Hamish!

NB: Here are my 'live recordings' that I scribbled down throughout the walk's duration.

2:30: Standing on my chosen line, everyone else is also looking around, looking rather nonplussed.

In what feels like half an hour later, 2:45 has arrived and it appears that no one else has moved. Is there no gong? Have I imagined this?

2:50: Alas, no one's feet have moved? Is Hamish playing a practical joke with us all? Oh wait, someone just made a step... it must have begun, meaning I didn't hear the gong sound. Drat. Am going to lose this race of slowness!

My view from the walk. Said packet of Levonelle is just in that little dip there.

3:24: I can see other people walking (standing) on lines adjacent to mine, collecting detritus as a memoir to the walk. Looking down at my feet, I’ve came to the conclusion that I’ve chosen the shittest line to spend the next 2 hours. Instead of obscure weeds and tiny rock fragments being my surroundings, my feet appear to be crushing 10 year old packets of Levonelle. Classy!

3:32: My limbs have lost all ability to move. This could make walking slowly a lot easier?

3:45: It's actually freezing. A group of skaters just walked into the car park. On arrival, I thought they'd start yelling abuse, and they looked like they were going to shout a few insults too. However, I think realisation just hit them that they'd be poking fun at a group of 80 stationary stone-faced people all looking towards a similar direction.

3:52: Skaters have been and gone now. We must have looked like a rather obscure cult.

Okay, so the rest of my recordings are non-existent; my hands actually froze to the point that I couldn't actually tuck them into my faux leather jacket for warmth as my fingers had lost the ability to bend, let alone hold a biro. The walk was truly incredible though; a sense of camraderie was instilled within all of us as we sensed the final gong about to sound. There was something so delicately beautiful about slow walking when your only surroundings appear to be Cross Country trains whizzing past out of New Street Station at 100mph...

Literally gagging for a cup of tea (or halogen heater) post-walk, I sauntered down Heath Mill Lane towards FEASTER at VIVID; a night of folk performance, hot cross buns and Morris dancers.

My gift for becoming an acolyte, courtesy of Pendulum Burdock and Gary Spencer. My hand looks awful here!

Launching with Pendulum Burdock dishing out his own tale or two of Feaster delights, the evening was actually lovely, a fantastic close to this year's Fierce Festival.

 We were treated to performances by Coventry Mummers, Border Brethren Morris Dancers and the Wayfarers Folkdance Club. With handmade bonnets dancing all over VIVID, it was clear that everyone was having an excellent time celebrating this momentous occassion

The real ales flowed, the hearty all-you-can-eat locally sourced cheese battled on with my arteries until the Morris men clambered their last stick against another. Before heading to Moor Street for the last train of the night home, I joined everyone else in a celebratory pint in The Spotted Dog in Digbeth.

HAPPY FEASTER ALL!