An exhibition built around letters of support sent to a primary school at the centre of a storm around if, how and when children should learn about relationships and respect, about sex and sexuality — and an object lesson about a community riven by pride and prejudice (and not in the Jane Austen sense.)

Through chair-mounted speakers around a six-metre circle of living grass, twelve older people told the moving, funny and humbling stories of their experiences living through the COVID pandemic — from moments of despair to the occasional cheeky hook-up — celebrating the power of hope and taking pleasure in small things.

What better way to celebrate the 50th anniversary of the Apollo 11 Moon landing than by putting on a nine-day cross-artform festival featuring 23 new commissions and with an immersive mid-scale dining experience as its centrepiece — all timed to start the very second the rocket took off and to end the very second the landing module splashed down in the Pacific?

Two stints as Writer-in-Residence with the Tasmanian supremos and their tiny travelling town, where visitors place figures in an ever-evolving landscape before swinging by the newspaper office to share the breaking news. The most rapid of rapid-response writing gigs — complete with pink toga for the Royal Shakespeare Company’s Roman version.

When a Norwegian choreographer’s imagination meets Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451, you get this — an international living library where books are committed to memory, ready and waiting for visitors to meet and read them. My journey memorising J G Ballard’s Crash has (so far) taken me from Birmingham to London, Brussels, Kortrijk, Oslo and Helsinki.