Clerkenwell, And Short Films

O Northern Line! Where are you when we need you! A convoluted route took us to the Clerkenwell Festival, which feels more like an open air members-of-bands party than a festival. We missed the Dog Show (oh how I loved last year's lookalike competition, with the sad bulldog and the sad bulldog owner!).Everyone was in the distance or close-up: I chatted to Ruth Tidmarsh, Peter Momtchiloff and Mike Slocombe, and traded waves and smiles with almost everyone else. We'd missed some of the jumble although I was tempted by an enormous Hawaiian shirt with colourful vinyl records printed all over it, but decided to savour the memory of last year's Cowboy shirt instead.Everything was running a bit late and I missed Swell Maps' set as I headed over to Hoxton on the bus to the Art 'Otel (awful name) that's built on the grave of that superb pub, The Foundry. Oh, it tries very hard to be hip but ends up being more like Elon Musk's enormous echoing tin bowel. It was hosting the Kino Festival of Short…