Greer? No Fear!

I recently had the very great pleasure of compering Germaine Greer at the first of a series of events at the Gate in Roath. 'An Audience With' aims to bring the good people of Cardiff a variety of high-profile personalities, including actors, writers, sports stars, and politicians. Simon Weston was this month's guest, and next month's is Roy Hattersley - but our first kicked off, in a high-kick style, with the nation's most famous feminist.

Like most educated ladies of my age, I read The Female Eunuch at university, and was affected by it greatly. This was to the point of me managing to quote Greer (and my other favourite writer at that time, Helene Cixous) in every English essay paper - even Chaucer! Greer's writing made clear so many things that I was unconsciously aware of but unable to put a name to; I'd already realised that there were about a thousand swears featuring female terms (cow, bitch, tit, etc.) and very few for male, but many of her other assertions made other, more subtle subjects, crystal clear. It became a kind of bible for me, for a while.

So, to meet Greer now, was extremely exciting. I also felt nervous. The septugenarian has a 'rep' for being outspoken and opinionated, and for stirring people up with controversial opinions... I wondered how she would be with me.

I needn't have worried, of course. Germaine was as friendly and personable as you would've hoped, though with strongly-held, and freely-expressed, opinions. I spent about 45 minutes with her backstage while we waited for the show to begin; one minute we'd be talking about the difficulties of parking; the next we had leaped (not because of me!) onto discussing the penis and popular opinion of it. Germaine's conversation casually veered from the mundane to the remarkable, from writing to keeping accounts to her recent, much-enjoyed talks to young girls in schools, to the terrible topic of sexual assault. Once Germaine was on stage, I realised that, like most great performers, she had been practising some of her material on me - little bits and pieces that had seemed so (wonderfully) random then, were now spoken here, and to great effect. Anyone who came along to the evening will be aware that Greer is as funny and engaging as many a stand-up. The fact the house was full (370 people!), with both men and women, spoke volumes.

In all, I would say that I found Germaine to be a person who perhaps enjoys playing devil's advocate. Her 'rep', I feel, comes from her deliberately wanting to poke at people's thoughts, to get them to question their own assumptions. Perhaps this is then portrayed in the popular press as wilfulness. I also found Germaine to be less a 'feminist' than a 'humanist' in what she was saying. She struck me as a fine mind with a good heart - a sage older person who simply thinks everyone should have equal rights. The image of the younger Greer, I think, has forever thrown a fanatical, 'wimmin's rights' sorta shadow over the philosopher she has become.

The happiest moment of the evening came, for me, when an unprompted audience sang 'Happy Birthday' to Germaine - this event co-incidentally marked her 73rd birthday. As compere, I had intended to arrange something like this, but the fact it happened naturally, again, says a lot.

The only other question I'd like to address, of the many I've been asked, is - is Germaine still hot? Well, for a 73-year old, yes, I suppose she is. I guess it really depends on whether you find a brilliant mind sexy in itself. Certainly, many do, as you can see from this guy's blog. I'm not sure what Germaine would think of the question, but since it's a woman who asked it of me, perhaps she wouldn't mind (?).

Anyway... This is the longest post I've ever written! Hope to see you at some of the future events, bye for now!

Please join the Facebook group for An Audience With here and the Twitter account can be found here.

The Thickopedia Guide to Cardiff and Surrounding Areas

#1 ADAMSDOWN

“And on the sixth day, God created Adamsdown. And it was Not Good. And thus, on the seventh day, He decided to Give Up…”

Adamsdown is a sticky inner suburb of Cardiff, about 5 minute’s walk from the throbbing city centre. According to some sources, it was named after Adam Kidyounot, who worked as a porter at Cardiff Castle around 1330AD. Due to the nature of his work (looking after poshos before the word had even been invented), he suffered from severe bouts of depression, and the then residents of the area were often heard to remark, in response to the query “how be Adam”: “he be down”. Being thickos (before the word had even been invented), the peasants at that time took “Adam’s down” less as a statement reflecting the psychological and emotional state of a particular individual, and more as a sort of fact, reflecting the anti-inspirational feeling that the area at that time (and to this day) invokes in many of its residents, and nearly all of its visitors.

Alternative sources, in particular the people who live in Adamsdown, think the name may be “summin religious, like”.

Adamsdown is home to such landmarks as Cardiff Royal Infirmary, Cardiff Magistrates’ Court, and Cardiff Prison. The atypical Adamsdown resident, liking a bit of a weekend drink, followed by an alcohol-induced scrap, will ideally pass through all three of these erstwhile institutions, usually in that order.

As if to offset the grim starkness of the suburb, many of its streets are named after metals, precious stones, and astronomical terms. The delicious irony of wandering along “Gold Street”, dodging dog crap as you walk (quickly), meandering around single mothers with their pushchairs full of little accidents, the garden-free terraced houses to either side reminding one of the discoloured teeth inside a tramp’s mouth, is something not to be missed. Unless you live in another area, of course.

There are several Sikh temples in the suburb, as well as a Reform Synagogue, but most residents are not seeking to reform, and spend all of their time in the far more numerous public houses therein.

Adamdown is part of the STAR area of Cardiff. STAR stands for Splott, Tremorfa, Adamsdown, and Roath, four inner city areas born out of the industrial revolution. Again, no-one is sure which bright spark thought up such a wonderfully sarcastic name, but, believe me, no-one actually living in this piss-hole is the least bit duped. Broadway, one of the main streets running through Adamsdown, is the precise polar opposite of its American namesake: there are no stars here, and the splotches of gullshit liberally splashed over the pavement are a very poor substitute indeed. There are no stars in the literal sense, either: as far as Thickopedia is aware, no famous persons have emerged from this particular Cardiff ’burb, and we can safely presume that none ever will.

In brief, Adamsdown is a less than superb suburb, and potential visitors are warned that the only stars they will be seeing here will be the ones in front of their eyes post-punch-in-the-face mugging experience. Lying dazed upon the shit-spattered sidewalk, you will be down both in terms of your feeling and your unfortunate physical position.

And if your name happens to be Adam, well, that will be the funniest thing about your visit.

This Cardiff location article is a stub. You can help Thickopedia by f*cking off and smoking it.

Next time: Butetown!!!