I've just finished listening to another great radio show courtesy of my mate Tony Simpson and his colleagues down at www.totalrally.com. I've mentioned them before, it's a show for people who love rallying. It's a show for people who love cars and most importantly it's a show hosted by people with the same love.
For the last few weeks, the set up has seen Tony and James in the studio and Colin Clark (aka Clarky) out on the road as a sort of Roving Reporter. Clarky has his own unique way of securing guests for interview, sometimes even resorting to grabbing passing personalities in the Rallying World and begging for a few minutes of their time whilst on air. But it never seems to fail (even if the restraining orders are to follow). Although I've never met him, his lovely Scottish accent always makes me picture a modern day William Wallace. But whereas Wallace wanted Freedom, Clarky just wants interviews!
And an interview he got tonight, with none other than Malcolm Wilson, in the 'Marvellous Marriott in Jordan'. Gold! The Jordan stage of the WRC is this weekend and the three favourites appear to be Loeb, Hirvonen and Solberg. For me although Loeb is undeniably a great driver (and lets face it girls pretty damn attractive) he has become the Schumacher of the Rallying world. Unlike Schumacher though, his driving is fun to watch and after his less than perfect run in Sweden, the top spot is still very much up for grabs. Which leaves Hirvonen and the charismatic and very likeable Solberg snapping at his heels. We wait with baited breath to see what happens in this stage.
Meanwhile, back in the studio, Tony and James were flying the flag for British Rallying and had secured interviews with the winner and two runners up from last weekend's Bulldog International Rally. If enthusiasm and charm have anything to do with it, Adam Gould will surely do well in future competitions. It's just a shame that securing sponsorship can be make or break for some of these young drivers.
But enough of my waffle. As I've said before, I love rallying. The noise, the buzz, the excitement, it has it all. But I can't possibly do justice to the races going on, my knowledge is just too hazy. So if you want to know who wins in Jordan or who's pipped for greatness amongst the British drivers, don't ask me. Turn to the experts - it's what they are there for. www.totalrally.com - go on you know you want to!
Wednesday, 31 March 2010
Seriously, what is the point?
The 'Secret Track' at the end of a CD is a mystery to me. I don't see the point. I don't understand why so many artists felt the need to include them. Like most fads it seems to have died a death and that can only be a good thing in my book.
I have to be honest here, I don't think I've ever truly listened to a 'Secret Track' and maybe I've missed out on some real gems. But then again, if a song or piece of music is worthy enough to be on an album, let it be on the album, along with all the other tracks deemed good enough. Don't hide it away at the end following a 10 minute silence. A ten minute silence without music is just not going to happen in my world. There are far too many great songs to fill the gap!
After a mere minutes silence I presume my CD changer has failed to do its job and change the CD anyway. If this means I've missed some truly great musical moments then I await enlightenment. Please feel free....
Am I the only music nut who feels this way or am I in a solitary club of 'Secret Track' Haters? Answers in the comment box please!
I have to be honest here, I don't think I've ever truly listened to a 'Secret Track' and maybe I've missed out on some real gems. But then again, if a song or piece of music is worthy enough to be on an album, let it be on the album, along with all the other tracks deemed good enough. Don't hide it away at the end following a 10 minute silence. A ten minute silence without music is just not going to happen in my world. There are far too many great songs to fill the gap!
After a mere minutes silence I presume my CD changer has failed to do its job and change the CD anyway. If this means I've missed some truly great musical moments then I await enlightenment. Please feel free....
Am I the only music nut who feels this way or am I in a solitary club of 'Secret Track' Haters? Answers in the comment box please!
One More Sleep
There are hundreds of things I should be doing or could be doing but once more I find myself plugged into the laptop tapping keys and somehow making coherent sentences. Believe me that is a real achievement at the moment.
In real Infant Teacher Speak, we have just 'one sleep left' til the holidays! As of 2pm tomorrow Miss Sunshine will be locked away in the cupboard and Jude allowed out to play. It's been a long time coming...
But as much as I'm looking forward to a lie in and skating by the beach every day, the holidays are also tinged with a bit of sadness. In just 3 months I will be spending my last working day at a school were I have been incredibly happy. I know that last day will be tough - tissues will be soggy, eyes red and noses runny and that's just the staff! The last four years have been amazing! The staff are not just colleagues. It really is like being part of an extended family. Everyone who visits our school comments on how warm and welcoming it is. I knew as soon as I walked through the door that I wanted to work there and that instinct was spot on.
I'm excited about moving back up north. I'm looking forward to the fresh air, the space, the pace of life being calmer. I can't wait to skate by the beach every day for as long as I can. I long for the chance to live in a house with my own drive, own front door and my own garden - a one bed flat with communal garden area just doesn't have the same appeal. But despite this I know I will struggle to find a work place that is so right for me. I wish I could pack up the school and bring it with me in a cardboard box marked 'Work Stuff'.
So instead of wishing the weeks away like most teachers normally do, I'm going to relish every moment. Every assembly, every story I read to the children, every picture they draw for me will now become even more treasured. Sometimes you have to leave somewhere to really appreciate it but at least that's not the case. I already know my school really is the best!
In real Infant Teacher Speak, we have just 'one sleep left' til the holidays! As of 2pm tomorrow Miss Sunshine will be locked away in the cupboard and Jude allowed out to play. It's been a long time coming...
But as much as I'm looking forward to a lie in and skating by the beach every day, the holidays are also tinged with a bit of sadness. In just 3 months I will be spending my last working day at a school were I have been incredibly happy. I know that last day will be tough - tissues will be soggy, eyes red and noses runny and that's just the staff! The last four years have been amazing! The staff are not just colleagues. It really is like being part of an extended family. Everyone who visits our school comments on how warm and welcoming it is. I knew as soon as I walked through the door that I wanted to work there and that instinct was spot on.
I'm excited about moving back up north. I'm looking forward to the fresh air, the space, the pace of life being calmer. I can't wait to skate by the beach every day for as long as I can. I long for the chance to live in a house with my own drive, own front door and my own garden - a one bed flat with communal garden area just doesn't have the same appeal. But despite this I know I will struggle to find a work place that is so right for me. I wish I could pack up the school and bring it with me in a cardboard box marked 'Work Stuff'.
So instead of wishing the weeks away like most teachers normally do, I'm going to relish every moment. Every assembly, every story I read to the children, every picture they draw for me will now become even more treasured. Sometimes you have to leave somewhere to really appreciate it but at least that's not the case. I already know my school really is the best!
Tuesday, 30 March 2010
A Life for a Knife
"15 YEAR OLD STABBED TO DEATH BY SCHOOL BOY GANG!"
"TWO FATAL STABBINGS IN AS MANY WEEKS"
"FATAL STABBING OF TEENAGER IN LEWISHAM"
I'd love to say these kind of headlines are rare but they are all too common. What are we doing so wrong that human life is held so cheap by teenagers and young men? I'm a full believer in equality but even I have to face the very real fact that most (note the word most) stabbings are carried out by teenage boys or young men.
I read the article from the second headline just this morning. These stabbings took place literally down the road from the Infant School I work in. One of them outside a chip shop on a main road where the victim (a tourist) was left to bleed to death on the pavement and the other near a Council estate full of young families. One young mum was quoted as being "scared for her life and scared for her children after all the recent violence". And these are just the stories that are considered newsworthy. I'm sure there are far more tragic events occurring daily but we just don't hear about them. But for that young mum and thousands of people like her that is the grim reality. I know I'm not alone when I gasp in horror and then head back to my cosy home, to read the Guardian and decide which bottle of Pinot to open for the evening dinner. I can escape but others are not so lucky.
And I can't even begin to imagine how the families of the victims feel. Losing a loved one is a traumatic thing that you never fully recover from, but to know that your child, brother, cousin, nephew, grandson was attacked and actually killed by another human being must be indescribable. How on earth can you possibly move on from that? How can you hope to deal with the anger and hate that must fill you? And who do you direct that hate towards - another child? Someone elses son? Another disaffected teenager who probably had no idea of the implications of carrying a blade?
People are very quick to cast the blame. As a teacher I've lost track of the times we've been blamed for the downfall of everything in this nation. And yes some schools have failed children. But we have to remember that a child will spend most of their time with their parents and family. Or in many cases with childminders. Britain has the longest working hours in the EU. Families can quite literally go for weeks without spending any quality time together. Cost of living is through the roof and parents often pass like ships in the night as one comes in and the other goes out just to make ends meet. And that's in the families where there are two parents around. Single parents deserve our applause. Nobody chooses to bring up children by themselves. Who on earth would? It's the hardest job in the world. But circumstances are often beyond their control.
I don't know what the answer is but surely something can be done. My brother is a Youth Worker and the work he has done with the teenagers on his patch is amazing. He never condemns their choices, never puts their decisions down. Instead, he listens and then offers them alternatives. And for some of these young people it has been a life changing alternative. An alternative that's got them off the streets and doing something purposeful. Another friend of mine now employs some of the 'youth' who used to attend his Youth Clubs. What an accolade. He's given these young people something purposeful and more importantly given them a job where they can continue to spread the word. There is so much more to life than just hanging around a street corner stabbing one another but someone has to show them the opportunities that are within their reach.
This is where the government should be investing. But of course, with the economy the way it is, Youth Services are often the first things to go. The managers of the big banks can fight all they like for their 6 figure bonus but the real fighting is happening on the street and at a much greater price. But these people drive out to leafy suburbia and often don't see the need for Youth Services (well until the disaffected 'youths' are vandalising their BMW's or Mercs!).
And now I'm going to do something I never thought I would do, I'm going to finish my blog with a quote from Whitney Houston! She has made her fair share of mistakes and some truly awful music along the way but this quote sums it all up (in my opinion). So take it away Whitney...
"We believe the children are our future, teach them well and let them lead the way".
And if we do it right, the streets can only become a safer place, something everyone should be striving for.
"TWO FATAL STABBINGS IN AS MANY WEEKS"
"FATAL STABBING OF TEENAGER IN LEWISHAM"
I'd love to say these kind of headlines are rare but they are all too common. What are we doing so wrong that human life is held so cheap by teenagers and young men? I'm a full believer in equality but even I have to face the very real fact that most (note the word most) stabbings are carried out by teenage boys or young men.
I read the article from the second headline just this morning. These stabbings took place literally down the road from the Infant School I work in. One of them outside a chip shop on a main road where the victim (a tourist) was left to bleed to death on the pavement and the other near a Council estate full of young families. One young mum was quoted as being "scared for her life and scared for her children after all the recent violence". And these are just the stories that are considered newsworthy. I'm sure there are far more tragic events occurring daily but we just don't hear about them. But for that young mum and thousands of people like her that is the grim reality. I know I'm not alone when I gasp in horror and then head back to my cosy home, to read the Guardian and decide which bottle of Pinot to open for the evening dinner. I can escape but others are not so lucky.
And I can't even begin to imagine how the families of the victims feel. Losing a loved one is a traumatic thing that you never fully recover from, but to know that your child, brother, cousin, nephew, grandson was attacked and actually killed by another human being must be indescribable. How on earth can you possibly move on from that? How can you hope to deal with the anger and hate that must fill you? And who do you direct that hate towards - another child? Someone elses son? Another disaffected teenager who probably had no idea of the implications of carrying a blade?
People are very quick to cast the blame. As a teacher I've lost track of the times we've been blamed for the downfall of everything in this nation. And yes some schools have failed children. But we have to remember that a child will spend most of their time with their parents and family. Or in many cases with childminders. Britain has the longest working hours in the EU. Families can quite literally go for weeks without spending any quality time together. Cost of living is through the roof and parents often pass like ships in the night as one comes in and the other goes out just to make ends meet. And that's in the families where there are two parents around. Single parents deserve our applause. Nobody chooses to bring up children by themselves. Who on earth would? It's the hardest job in the world. But circumstances are often beyond their control.
I don't know what the answer is but surely something can be done. My brother is a Youth Worker and the work he has done with the teenagers on his patch is amazing. He never condemns their choices, never puts their decisions down. Instead, he listens and then offers them alternatives. And for some of these young people it has been a life changing alternative. An alternative that's got them off the streets and doing something purposeful. Another friend of mine now employs some of the 'youth' who used to attend his Youth Clubs. What an accolade. He's given these young people something purposeful and more importantly given them a job where they can continue to spread the word. There is so much more to life than just hanging around a street corner stabbing one another but someone has to show them the opportunities that are within their reach.
This is where the government should be investing. But of course, with the economy the way it is, Youth Services are often the first things to go. The managers of the big banks can fight all they like for their 6 figure bonus but the real fighting is happening on the street and at a much greater price. But these people drive out to leafy suburbia and often don't see the need for Youth Services (well until the disaffected 'youths' are vandalising their BMW's or Mercs!).
And now I'm going to do something I never thought I would do, I'm going to finish my blog with a quote from Whitney Houston! She has made her fair share of mistakes and some truly awful music along the way but this quote sums it all up (in my opinion). So take it away Whitney...
"We believe the children are our future, teach them well and let them lead the way".
And if we do it right, the streets can only become a safer place, something everyone should be striving for.
Saturday, 27 March 2010
One Day...
Some people care and some people don't - that's the way of the world. Sometimes I think it would be nice to be one of those who don't care . It would make life a whole lot easier to be able to walk away from people and situations without a backwards glance. It would probably mean being less open to being hurt, upset, frustrated or angered. It would probably make life quieter and less complicated. It would probably mean less stress and worry.
But would I be living? And more importantly, would I be me? Probably not.
My life was pretty idyllic until I reached 21 and since then, I've had more than my fair share of ups and downs. There have been real low points in my life. Times when the outlook looked bleak. Times when I have felt unimaginably lonely and alone (two entirely different emotions believe me). There have been moments when I have wondered if it was ever going to get better. Feeling envious or jealous is not something that comes naturally to me, but I have occasionally looked at my friends more ordered and less traumatic lives and felt something mighty close to envy.
Despite this, I don't think I'd change my life. If the luxury of time travel were available I would have only one wish - to have my mum back (pre-cancer). I'm sure my life would have turned out somewhat different if she was still here. I'm sure I'd be more content, less stressed and less of a worrier. I'm sure my inability to settle would be less of an issue. I'd find it easier to open up to people without constantly fearing I would wake up one day and they'd be gone too. I'd probably find the wall I've spent years building oh so carefully around myself would be allowed to fall into dis-repair. But I'll never know.
And that's why I can't stop caring. It's what keeps me alive, what lets me know I still have a purpose and a reason, it's what gets me out of bed and facing the world. If you stop caring then surely you just give up. And that's not something I ever did even in my darkest hours...
ONE DAY
If I could have you back for a day
I'd tell you I love you,
spend time, just us two,
shopping and laughing.
Ladies that lunch!
Enjoy time together
go to a show,
find time to chat
But a day's not enough - I want
more!
13-8-08
But would I be living? And more importantly, would I be me? Probably not.
My life was pretty idyllic until I reached 21 and since then, I've had more than my fair share of ups and downs. There have been real low points in my life. Times when the outlook looked bleak. Times when I have felt unimaginably lonely and alone (two entirely different emotions believe me). There have been moments when I have wondered if it was ever going to get better. Feeling envious or jealous is not something that comes naturally to me, but I have occasionally looked at my friends more ordered and less traumatic lives and felt something mighty close to envy.
Despite this, I don't think I'd change my life. If the luxury of time travel were available I would have only one wish - to have my mum back (pre-cancer). I'm sure my life would have turned out somewhat different if she was still here. I'm sure I'd be more content, less stressed and less of a worrier. I'm sure my inability to settle would be less of an issue. I'd find it easier to open up to people without constantly fearing I would wake up one day and they'd be gone too. I'd probably find the wall I've spent years building oh so carefully around myself would be allowed to fall into dis-repair. But I'll never know.
And that's why I can't stop caring. It's what keeps me alive, what lets me know I still have a purpose and a reason, it's what gets me out of bed and facing the world. If you stop caring then surely you just give up. And that's not something I ever did even in my darkest hours...
ONE DAY
If I could have you back for a day
I'd tell you I love you,
spend time, just us two,
shopping and laughing.
Ladies that lunch!
Enjoy time together
go to a show,
find time to chat
But a day's not enough - I want
more!
13-8-08
Thursday, 25 March 2010
Hyde Park Needs You!
Live music is an important part of my life. Over the years, I have seen some amazing acts at various venues around the World. Wherever I end up on my travels I seem to have a nose for finding the local bands or cultural celebrations going on. And as far as I'm concerned that only adds to the excitement of the journey. Within this category of live music, I firmly place the Festival Experience.
Despite the weather Britain has been host to some truly brilliant festivals over the years but I have become a little jaded by the experience of late. This is nothing to do with my age! It's just that the festivals that were once for the true music fan have been taken over by people who just want to have the right kind of wristband to show off to their friends. Glasto and V are so chav filled these days it's as if the music has taken second place to a cat walk of perma tan and designer names. This is in stark contrast to my own 'festival wardrobe' which sees me without make up, hair in plaits, clothes I don't really care about and footwear that can be bought from Primani for £2 and therefore be disposed of at the end of the weekend (or if you are really lucky stolen from under the van an event that happened in last year's disastrous trip to Benicassim - a chav filled 'Brit Abroad' festival that will never be graced by my presence again!)
Amongst the Chavtastic festivals of the UK there are still a couple of gems. For the last two years running I've been a keen and eager spectator at the Hyde Park Hard Rock Calling gig. Fortunately, the weather is generally kind, the audience is full of musos rather than chavs and the line ups are pretty damn amazing.
2008 saw the guitar legend Eric Clapton headlining on the Saturday and the Police playing the last gig of their 'come back/re-form' tour on the Sunday. What an awesome weekend that was. Unlike Wimbledon, the sun smiled down on the proceedings which only added to the atmosphere. My friend Warlock and I took a picnic and some beers and Pimms and chillaxed whilst listening to Jason Mraz and John Mayer before making our way towards the stage for Sheryl Crow who was the perfect warm up act for Mr Clapton. He held the audience in the palm of his hand as he treated us to hit after hit that took us through the emotional journey that has been his life. The highs (and sometimes quite literally the 'high's) and lows were captured and shared with an audience that spanned all ages. The Police's performance on Sunday was polished and slick. The drummer Stewart Copeland looked as if he was having the time of his life. He attacked his drum kit with the enthusiasm of the gangly youth he was when he formed the Police back in the late 70's.
2009'a line up had The Pretenders, Sea Sick Steve, Fleet Foxes (please go and see them, there is something very mystical and magical about watching them) and then the magnificent Neil Young on Saturday. I've got to be honest, I didn't know how Eric Clapton would be topped but Neil Young was sublime. His folksy, hippy sound exactly suited the outdoor setting and the sudden thunder storm minutes before he took to the stage only enhanced the atmosphere. It was only after the rain had stopped a couple of songs in that Warlock and I reflected upon our choice to stand under the tree while the storm had erupted -not our brightest moment! But that's what happens when anticipation gets you...sense goes out the window!
Just as we thought the night couldn't get any better Sir Paul, yes our very own Macca joined Neil Young on stage to 'help' him along with the encore A Day in the Life. This was a moment not to be forgotten and one that we nearly missed. We had been gradually edging back from the stage ready to tackle the mass exodus when I looked up and turned to Warlock "is that Paul McCartney?!" Warlock flashed me a quick look that clearly said 'you've had too much Pimms' before looking at the stage and saying "Flipping Heck it is!" and dragging me back towards the stage in a virtual crowd surf. Macca and Young had obviously been sampling the wares of the beer tent themselves and were swaying around singing with great enthusiasm. It was a moment in history for me - two legends from a time that I feel a great affinity with, performing together and having a ball. We left that gig on a real high.
This year Warlock and I had agreed we wouldn't be going. The line up announced in January was not one that inspired us. And to be fair, where on earth could the line up possibly go next in order to do that? Let me tell you...
Three weeks ago, my daily journey to work was enlivened by an announcement that none other than Paul McCartney would be headlining on the Sunday night at Hard Rock Calling. Despite the early hour I put my text through to Warlock "Macca's headlining Hyde Park. You in?" Amazingly the text came back within half an hour (and this from a guy who could sleep for Britain and win gold) and simply said one word "IN!!!!". So that was that, tickets booked and we're off to Hyde Park on June 27th.
And then on Tuesday, the icing on the cake. Stevie Wonder was announced as the headline for the Saturday along with Jamiroquai, James Morrison and Corinne Bailee Rae. A hurried exchange was made - and the conclusion was that we'd better go. What an opportunity, two living legends on the same weekend at a festival that is truly there for the greater good of music fans like us. It's the perfect combo!
Long live the Great British Festival!
Despite the weather Britain has been host to some truly brilliant festivals over the years but I have become a little jaded by the experience of late. This is nothing to do with my age! It's just that the festivals that were once for the true music fan have been taken over by people who just want to have the right kind of wristband to show off to their friends. Glasto and V are so chav filled these days it's as if the music has taken second place to a cat walk of perma tan and designer names. This is in stark contrast to my own 'festival wardrobe' which sees me without make up, hair in plaits, clothes I don't really care about and footwear that can be bought from Primani for £2 and therefore be disposed of at the end of the weekend (or if you are really lucky stolen from under the van an event that happened in last year's disastrous trip to Benicassim - a chav filled 'Brit Abroad' festival that will never be graced by my presence again!)
Amongst the Chavtastic festivals of the UK there are still a couple of gems. For the last two years running I've been a keen and eager spectator at the Hyde Park Hard Rock Calling gig. Fortunately, the weather is generally kind, the audience is full of musos rather than chavs and the line ups are pretty damn amazing.
2008 saw the guitar legend Eric Clapton headlining on the Saturday and the Police playing the last gig of their 'come back/re-form' tour on the Sunday. What an awesome weekend that was. Unlike Wimbledon, the sun smiled down on the proceedings which only added to the atmosphere. My friend Warlock and I took a picnic and some beers and Pimms and chillaxed whilst listening to Jason Mraz and John Mayer before making our way towards the stage for Sheryl Crow who was the perfect warm up act for Mr Clapton. He held the audience in the palm of his hand as he treated us to hit after hit that took us through the emotional journey that has been his life. The highs (and sometimes quite literally the 'high's) and lows were captured and shared with an audience that spanned all ages. The Police's performance on Sunday was polished and slick. The drummer Stewart Copeland looked as if he was having the time of his life. He attacked his drum kit with the enthusiasm of the gangly youth he was when he formed the Police back in the late 70's.
2009'a line up had The Pretenders, Sea Sick Steve, Fleet Foxes (please go and see them, there is something very mystical and magical about watching them) and then the magnificent Neil Young on Saturday. I've got to be honest, I didn't know how Eric Clapton would be topped but Neil Young was sublime. His folksy, hippy sound exactly suited the outdoor setting and the sudden thunder storm minutes before he took to the stage only enhanced the atmosphere. It was only after the rain had stopped a couple of songs in that Warlock and I reflected upon our choice to stand under the tree while the storm had erupted -not our brightest moment! But that's what happens when anticipation gets you...sense goes out the window!
Just as we thought the night couldn't get any better Sir Paul, yes our very own Macca joined Neil Young on stage to 'help' him along with the encore A Day in the Life. This was a moment not to be forgotten and one that we nearly missed. We had been gradually edging back from the stage ready to tackle the mass exodus when I looked up and turned to Warlock "is that Paul McCartney?!" Warlock flashed me a quick look that clearly said 'you've had too much Pimms' before looking at the stage and saying "Flipping Heck it is!" and dragging me back towards the stage in a virtual crowd surf. Macca and Young had obviously been sampling the wares of the beer tent themselves and were swaying around singing with great enthusiasm. It was a moment in history for me - two legends from a time that I feel a great affinity with, performing together and having a ball. We left that gig on a real high.
This year Warlock and I had agreed we wouldn't be going. The line up announced in January was not one that inspired us. And to be fair, where on earth could the line up possibly go next in order to do that? Let me tell you...
Three weeks ago, my daily journey to work was enlivened by an announcement that none other than Paul McCartney would be headlining on the Sunday night at Hard Rock Calling. Despite the early hour I put my text through to Warlock "Macca's headlining Hyde Park. You in?" Amazingly the text came back within half an hour (and this from a guy who could sleep for Britain and win gold) and simply said one word "IN!!!!". So that was that, tickets booked and we're off to Hyde Park on June 27th.
And then on Tuesday, the icing on the cake. Stevie Wonder was announced as the headline for the Saturday along with Jamiroquai, James Morrison and Corinne Bailee Rae. A hurried exchange was made - and the conclusion was that we'd better go. What an opportunity, two living legends on the same weekend at a festival that is truly there for the greater good of music fans like us. It's the perfect combo!
Long live the Great British Festival!
Tuesday, 23 March 2010
Tick Tock
Tick
exhaustion
tock
fatigue
tick
frustration
tock
unease
tick
tiredness
tock
enough!
tick
sleep
tock
don't!
24-11-08
exhaustion
tock
fatigue
tick
frustration
tock
unease
tick
tiredness
tock
enough!
tick
sleep
tock
don't!
24-11-08
Hell
Watching, waiting
sitting by the bed
In, out, in, out
watching your breath
Shallow, weak
softer, slower
Has it stopped?
We jump, we check -
not yet, not yet
Watching, waiting
Sitting by your bed
9-8-08
sitting by the bed
In, out, in, out
watching your breath
Shallow, weak
softer, slower
Has it stopped?
We jump, we check -
not yet, not yet
Watching, waiting
Sitting by your bed
9-8-08
Wrap Around Care
He wakes with excitement,
and
wakes mum and dad
"not now!" they say!
Excitement is gone as he starts to dress
and plays with his toys and talks to his bears -
a real conversation with questions and answers.
"come on, get a move on;
we're going to be late"
Piled into the car, bundled up tight
the child starts to talk
"Not now" he is told as Mum and Dad chat
The child in the back hums a tune
in his head
Breakfast club waits,
they know him well.
First one in, last one out
he chats nine to the dozen without a breath
But when THEY arrive he has nothing to say;
silent,
withdrawn,
quiet
He leaves one family to go home with another
Excitement and love left behind with his hat
30-12-08
and
wakes mum and dad
"not now!" they say!
Excitement is gone as he starts to dress
and plays with his toys and talks to his bears -
a real conversation with questions and answers.
"come on, get a move on;
we're going to be late"
Piled into the car, bundled up tight
the child starts to talk
"Not now" he is told as Mum and Dad chat
The child in the back hums a tune
in his head
Breakfast club waits,
they know him well.
First one in, last one out
he chats nine to the dozen without a breath
But when THEY arrive he has nothing to say;
silent,
withdrawn,
quiet
He leaves one family to go home with another
Excitement and love left behind with his hat
30-12-08
Security Blanket
In July 1999, my life changed forever. I'd been away for a friend's hen do. We'd had a fantastic time, laughing from the minute we got there til the minute we got back. But on my return, mum sat me down and said she had something to tell me. When you know someone who has already been through cancer and appears to be in remission you come to dread these kind of conversations. And with good cause...
"It's back, I've got secondaries. It's in my liver and there's nothing they can do. I've got maybe 2 years left"
Even today, I find it hard to take in. The unfairness of life that could condemn my mum to this life sentence. A woman who had spent her life encouraging and supporting others and never putting herself first. And even then she was more concerned for me "please make sure you get yourself checked out and as regularly as you can - I don't want you to get it". I couldn't even think of the illness in terms of the possible risks to me at this point. All I could think was it was going to take my mum long before I was ready to let her go.
If this wasn't stressful enough just a month later I was supposed to be moving to London to take up a new job and new life. Well I just won't go I told Mum. She went mad "You WILL go! I want you to take this chance and enjoy it. Don't you dare stay here for me. I'd feel like a watched pot. I told your brother the same when he went to Australia. You have to go"
And so I went! Mum's are always right! It's been an incredible 11 years down here.
When I first arrived in the Big Smoke I was a fragile, naive 25 year old. I'd never used public transport to get home after a night out, I'd never had to walk anywhere by myself at night and my home town was reassuringly well known. Mum and Dad came to visit after a month or two and brought a shiny new (and huge by todays standards) mobile phone for me.
Since then, my mobile has been my constant companion. I feel edgy and uneasy if I forget it and I have to sleep with it next to me at night. Sad? Maybe but during the last few months of mum's life that phone became a lifeline between London and my home town 250 miles away. I could still go out and about but I had the security of knowing that if the 'phonecall' came in I could be on my way fairly quickly. It really had become my security blanket. Every one of the phonecalls I received telling me to get home as quick as I could were taken on that mobile phone. Without it, I might not have got there to say goodbye and that is a thought too scary to contemplate.
So if you see someone who appears to be overly attached to their phone - spare a few seconds to think - there may be a very good reason for it. Phones aren't just a fashion accessory they can be the difference between getting there or not and that's a choice everyone should get if possible.
"It's back, I've got secondaries. It's in my liver and there's nothing they can do. I've got maybe 2 years left"
Even today, I find it hard to take in. The unfairness of life that could condemn my mum to this life sentence. A woman who had spent her life encouraging and supporting others and never putting herself first. And even then she was more concerned for me "please make sure you get yourself checked out and as regularly as you can - I don't want you to get it". I couldn't even think of the illness in terms of the possible risks to me at this point. All I could think was it was going to take my mum long before I was ready to let her go.
If this wasn't stressful enough just a month later I was supposed to be moving to London to take up a new job and new life. Well I just won't go I told Mum. She went mad "You WILL go! I want you to take this chance and enjoy it. Don't you dare stay here for me. I'd feel like a watched pot. I told your brother the same when he went to Australia. You have to go"
And so I went! Mum's are always right! It's been an incredible 11 years down here.
When I first arrived in the Big Smoke I was a fragile, naive 25 year old. I'd never used public transport to get home after a night out, I'd never had to walk anywhere by myself at night and my home town was reassuringly well known. Mum and Dad came to visit after a month or two and brought a shiny new (and huge by todays standards) mobile phone for me.
Since then, my mobile has been my constant companion. I feel edgy and uneasy if I forget it and I have to sleep with it next to me at night. Sad? Maybe but during the last few months of mum's life that phone became a lifeline between London and my home town 250 miles away. I could still go out and about but I had the security of knowing that if the 'phonecall' came in I could be on my way fairly quickly. It really had become my security blanket. Every one of the phonecalls I received telling me to get home as quick as I could were taken on that mobile phone. Without it, I might not have got there to say goodbye and that is a thought too scary to contemplate.
So if you see someone who appears to be overly attached to their phone - spare a few seconds to think - there may be a very good reason for it. Phones aren't just a fashion accessory they can be the difference between getting there or not and that's a choice everyone should get if possible.
Monday, 22 March 2010
Whispering Water
The sea came right in
to the edge of the sea wall
flat as a lake
smooth and still
tiny waves whispering
ripples breaking on tufts of grass
high tide, but no movement
to be seen, just creeping in
slowly
over the sand
30-8-08
to the edge of the sea wall
flat as a lake
smooth and still
tiny waves whispering
ripples breaking on tufts of grass
high tide, but no movement
to be seen, just creeping in
slowly
over the sand
30-8-08
Sunday, 21 March 2010
Night 2 at Butlins
Day 2 dawned bright and sunny! Actually that's a blatant lie! It was grey, damp, windy and cold.
Our lovely Hen Kylie had an urge to do Bingo. So at 1.30 we got ourselves to the Irish Bar and stocked up on tickets and 'dobbers'. Dobbers are the felts you use to cover your numbers as they're called. Like the whole Butlins experience, our group was made up of Dobber Bingo Virgins with the exception of Pepsi who patiently explained the rules. MC Hammer (usually a bright boy) didn't really get it until game 3 but we had to admire his 'taking part' spirit!
Bingo is a SERIOUS business! Music is turned off, mobiles switched to silent, and scarily the doors are locked. Blimey, I thought it was meant to be a bit of light hearted fun! "Eyes down, ready for your first number" and we were off. Well fun or not, I managed to win £90 on one game. And MC Hammer won £35. His previous game may also have proved a winner but we'll never know as Pepsi got over excited and threw the remains of her lager shandy all over his ticket and leg. A true professional, MC Hammer continued to play the game unfazed while the rest of us collapsed around him and had to be brought back in line by the Bingo caller who was barely 18!
After such excitement, a Nana-Nap was definitely needed. We had big plans and Big Hair to get ready for the night ahead. The 80's night was the one we had all been looking forward to. Outfits had been lovingly described and we were breathless with anticipation. And it was all we could have hoped for...Every hideous, clashing neon colour in the spectrum was called into play with wonderful effect (and I use that term loosely and in the context of 80's fashion).
Pepsi, Sonya and myself rocked up at the boys flat to find that LeeRoy had surpassed himself with an outfit straight from Fame (hence the nickname). But his flatmates Vanilla Ice and Pineapple Studio had gone a step further - shellsuits, in horrible colours with legwarmers and sweatbands. Special!
As we entered the flat, LeeRoy took one look at my back-combed ponytail emerging from the top of my visor and said "is that a hairpiece? Your hair is huge!" "No hairpiece honey, it's all mine!" It's fair to say we had embraced the 80's theme. And again, the other hen and stags had made a similar effort. Too much effort in one case - a full on Borat Mankini. I'm sorry but no one wants to see that at any time of the day, never mind before the watershed on a Saturday night - but hey, at least it was Neon Green and in keeping with the theme!
The DJ (who was rubbish) played a repeat set with a few extra gems including Vanilla Ice. Cue the 'Running Man' in 5 inch heels. Knees, ankles and thighs all kaput and a bangle bruise from vigorous arm movements - how I suffer for my art! Thank goodness, Red Wine was cut off in its prime tonight and replaced by the ultimate 80's classic 'I've Had the Time of My Life'. Pineapple Studio and I looked at each other, gave the nod and I was up the air like Baby from Dirty Dancing!
Actually, not strictly true - I ran and jumped, he caught and lifted but my leg lines were less than perfect if not non-existent. I've got 3 weeks to get in shape for the wedding disco and get those leg lines sorted. I'd better get the Jane Fonda Work Out on the go without delay!
Night 1 at Butlins
Prior to this weekend, I was a Butlins Virgin! But now I can say, the cherry has most definitely been popped.
After months of anticipation and preparation, the Bognor Babes and Boys Hen Weekend had finally arrived. An outfit for School Disco, and one for 80's night meant little room was left in the bag for other essentials - normal clothes for one!
Having got away from work I collected D (who will be known as Pepsi) and L (who we'll call LeeRoy from Fame), and we were off. Normally, I favour a truly eclectic mix of music whilst driving but this weekend was all about cheese and we had that in abundance. Madonna's Greatest Hits, 90's Mix, 70's Disco and Duran Duran set the standard for the musical delights of the weekend. Clearly, the bar had not been set very high!
The lovely hen who we'll call Tiffany had invited 40 of us to share her special occasion. Logistical nightmare! But despite having to co-ordinate 40 grown ups who were travelling across the country after a week of work, we all managed to arrive and be in the Pavilion by 8.30pm. Ahhhh The Pavilion. What a grand name, evoking images of cricket, cucumber sandwiches and a drop of sherry. Not quite...
Try hundreds of Hen/Stag groups all dressed in outfits that had never been stocked in the fancy dress shop that Mr Benn frequented and you'll get the idea.
Pepsi, LeeRoy, Sonya and MC Hammer (not their real names obviously) and myself made our own little sub group for the weekend. We had ringside seats at the experience that really was the Butlins Circus. This is a place where the lines are barely drawn (and if they are, they're ignored). Normal rules don't apply and carnage is the order of the day.
My little group of friends are no strangers to fancy dress. Over the years we've been aliens, superheroes, 70's disco stars and gangsters and molls but this was fancy dress on a whole new level. And believe me, it wasn't always a pretty sight. Men (why is it always men?) dressed as big willies, or in aprons and thongs and all with a disturbing amount of flesh on show. Our outfits have been many things over the years - garish, bad taste or hideous but they have still performed the basic requirement of clothes - they covered us up!!
Anyway, back to the Pavilion and the DJ Extraordinaire! If you go with low expectations for music you're less likely to be disappointed. The old and trusted classics came out with (to be fair) some truly great memories including Reef's 'Put Your Hands Up', Robin S 'You Got To Show Me Love' and of course MC Hammer 'You Can't Touch This'. The 'Running Man' came out to play and school disco mayhem was everywhere. There was even some snogging on the dance floor but it had nothing to do with us!
And then it happened! The DJ decided to end his set with... the 80's classic 'True'?, The Kylie and Jason classic 'Especially For You'? No! He chose UB40 singing 'Red Wine'. There's not enough red wine in the world to make up for that. And so Night One drew to a close.
The Butlins cherry had been popped and left us feeling, well frankly, a bit grubby and used but we were coming back for more the next day!
Wednesday, 17 March 2010
A-Z is Best!
As you know, music is pretty important to me! I can't imagine my life without it. There are plenty of cliches about music but for me it really is 'my first love and it will be my last'. I love the fact that a song or piece of music can match or change your mood accordingly. I love the fact that music can speak to people in so many different ways. I love the fact that music can help you escape. Music has helped me through some dark times in my life and it's been there for some of the happiest. I LOVE MUSIC!!!
My mate Warlock is currently writing a blog about the greatest albums (www.mushythebeatle.blogspot.com). He has got some real gems on there and many of them have a special place in my own carefully ordered A-Z collection. But what's great about reading his blog is the way it opens up new music and albums to the readers.
Just the other day I read his blog about Joni Mitchell. This is a woman whose voice I have always admired but have been rather scathing about her actual material. 'Big Yellow Taxi' is up there with 'Love Shack' on my list of songs that makes me want to kill someone! Counting Crows tried their best to make it acceptable but that good work was totally undone by Janet Jackson's terrible sample a few years later. So when Warlock gave her album 'Blue' a great write up I sat up and took notice. Generally, Warlock and I read from a similar book when it comes to music. I like to consider myself open to suggestions so I read on with interest. At the end of the blog, I come to the conclusion that this could well be another album that I need to acquire - after all you can never have too many CD's filed under 'M'!
So imagine my excitement when Warlock texts last night. I'm already in a great mood as I'm off to see the amazing Fun Lovin' Criminals and his text makes it even better. "There's a massive sale on the net, CD's for £2.99 (we are both old school and still actually BUY CD's rather than download, freaky I know), do you trust me to get you £20 worth of stuff".
How can I resist an offer like this? "Go for it! I trust you" is my instant reply. So now I am the proud owner of Joni Mitchell's Blue and some other great stuff including Ian Brown, Nick Drake, Chris Farlowe, Kris Kristofferson and Miles Davis. Keep downloading your tunes people and I'll keep picking up bargains like this - it makes the perfect deal if you ask me!
And now I must sign off, I have a selection of new CD's to catalogue...
My mate Warlock is currently writing a blog about the greatest albums (www.mushythebeatle.blogspot.com). He has got some real gems on there and many of them have a special place in my own carefully ordered A-Z collection. But what's great about reading his blog is the way it opens up new music and albums to the readers.
Just the other day I read his blog about Joni Mitchell. This is a woman whose voice I have always admired but have been rather scathing about her actual material. 'Big Yellow Taxi' is up there with 'Love Shack' on my list of songs that makes me want to kill someone! Counting Crows tried their best to make it acceptable but that good work was totally undone by Janet Jackson's terrible sample a few years later. So when Warlock gave her album 'Blue' a great write up I sat up and took notice. Generally, Warlock and I read from a similar book when it comes to music. I like to consider myself open to suggestions so I read on with interest. At the end of the blog, I come to the conclusion that this could well be another album that I need to acquire - after all you can never have too many CD's filed under 'M'!
So imagine my excitement when Warlock texts last night. I'm already in a great mood as I'm off to see the amazing Fun Lovin' Criminals and his text makes it even better. "There's a massive sale on the net, CD's for £2.99 (we are both old school and still actually BUY CD's rather than download, freaky I know), do you trust me to get you £20 worth of stuff".
How can I resist an offer like this? "Go for it! I trust you" is my instant reply. So now I am the proud owner of Joni Mitchell's Blue and some other great stuff including Ian Brown, Nick Drake, Chris Farlowe, Kris Kristofferson and Miles Davis. Keep downloading your tunes people and I'll keep picking up bargains like this - it makes the perfect deal if you ask me!
And now I must sign off, I have a selection of new CD's to catalogue...
He's Still Got It!
Last night found me in KOKO Camden watching the Fun Lovin' Criminals. I last saw this band in 2003/2004 at Brixton and then Kentish Town Forum and they were awesome. So when my mates J and J offered to pick me up a ticket for this gig I snapped their hands off! My only fear was that they wouldn't be as good; that age would have been unkind to them; and most of all that I just wouldn't enjoy them anymore.
No worries on any count! The evening was all I could have hoped for.
The venue alone is a quirky and funky little place. KOKO is an old Theatre and still retains the royal boxes and ornate decorations in rich crimson and gold. I've seen several gigs here ranging from Roisin Murphy who was brilliant to Noah and the Whale who weren't! There's a weird smell about the place and sometimes the sound can be distinctly average but it's definitely different and interesting.
From the minute the band arrived on stage, the atmosphere was electric. The enigmatic and charismatic lead singer Huey had us in the palm of his hand. Huey went through a pie eating phase in his life a few years ago but boy is he back in shape now! And his caramel soaked gravel lined voice sounds better than ever!
This band has had a bit of a reputation for indulging in chemicals in the past and because of this, some people have overlooked their very real musical talent. Yes Huey is sexy, yes he has stage presence, yes he is a fantastic front man but he's actually a damn fine guitar player too. The same goes for Fast (who neither J or I remember being this hot 7 years ago) who had a staggering array of instruments to choose between including keys, guitar and brass. And even the drummer Frankie pulled a great tune from a guitar as well. And, they all sing!
We stood back and watched as three talented guys pulled out material old and new while having the time of their life. They looked like three good mates who had met for a jamming session in their mates garage. Relaxed and clearly having a ball, the onstage banter was funny but affectionate.
The crowd was a real mixed bag in terms of age and style. There were young, hip and trendy things with achingly cool asymmetrical hair cuts, there were oldsters in polo shirts and slacks, there were young professionals with laptops hugged to their chests and there were eccentric types who inevitably start the action in the mosh pit and then spend the rest of the night avoiding a thumping. Despite these differences, the common factor was nodding heads and sheer enjoyment. This band are great!
I'm rubbish at recalling the order of tracks and even opening numbers but I do know the set list included Passive/Aggressive, The Grave and the Constant, King of New York and of course the crowd pleaser and cue for mass jumping Scooby Snacks. The boys were dragged back on stage for a storming encore featuring Roots Manoeuvre before the finale of Fun Lovin' Criminals and We Have All the Time in the World, which allowed Fast to showcase his gorgeous sounds on the trumpet. What a way to end a show.
We left KOKO in the usual post gig way, slightly fuzzy in the ears and dying to dissect the songs and set. The one thing we were totally agreed upon - 'Huey - he's still got it!" And if you don't believe us, you'll have to check them out for yourself!
No worries on any count! The evening was all I could have hoped for.
The venue alone is a quirky and funky little place. KOKO is an old Theatre and still retains the royal boxes and ornate decorations in rich crimson and gold. I've seen several gigs here ranging from Roisin Murphy who was brilliant to Noah and the Whale who weren't! There's a weird smell about the place and sometimes the sound can be distinctly average but it's definitely different and interesting.
From the minute the band arrived on stage, the atmosphere was electric. The enigmatic and charismatic lead singer Huey had us in the palm of his hand. Huey went through a pie eating phase in his life a few years ago but boy is he back in shape now! And his caramel soaked gravel lined voice sounds better than ever!
This band has had a bit of a reputation for indulging in chemicals in the past and because of this, some people have overlooked their very real musical talent. Yes Huey is sexy, yes he has stage presence, yes he is a fantastic front man but he's actually a damn fine guitar player too. The same goes for Fast (who neither J or I remember being this hot 7 years ago) who had a staggering array of instruments to choose between including keys, guitar and brass. And even the drummer Frankie pulled a great tune from a guitar as well. And, they all sing!
We stood back and watched as three talented guys pulled out material old and new while having the time of their life. They looked like three good mates who had met for a jamming session in their mates garage. Relaxed and clearly having a ball, the onstage banter was funny but affectionate.
The crowd was a real mixed bag in terms of age and style. There were young, hip and trendy things with achingly cool asymmetrical hair cuts, there were oldsters in polo shirts and slacks, there were young professionals with laptops hugged to their chests and there were eccentric types who inevitably start the action in the mosh pit and then spend the rest of the night avoiding a thumping. Despite these differences, the common factor was nodding heads and sheer enjoyment. This band are great!
I'm rubbish at recalling the order of tracks and even opening numbers but I do know the set list included Passive/Aggressive, The Grave and the Constant, King of New York and of course the crowd pleaser and cue for mass jumping Scooby Snacks. The boys were dragged back on stage for a storming encore featuring Roots Manoeuvre before the finale of Fun Lovin' Criminals and We Have All the Time in the World, which allowed Fast to showcase his gorgeous sounds on the trumpet. What a way to end a show.
We left KOKO in the usual post gig way, slightly fuzzy in the ears and dying to dissect the songs and set. The one thing we were totally agreed upon - 'Huey - he's still got it!" And if you don't believe us, you'll have to check them out for yourself!
Monday, 15 March 2010
Let's Go To Tahiti
I caught up with an old mate from Uni yesterday. All the way back in 1993/4, we shared a flat in Pendle Halls at Lancaster Uni. My over-riding memory of my mate (lets call him T) from this time is the music that was always pounding out of his room. This was before the days of i-pods and even CD's were relatively new. My woeful music collection was still on cassettes and I considered myself to be cutting edge with a stereo that had auto-reverse! T was, at 25, a few years older than the rest of us and appeared to be worldly wise and uber cool in comparison. Not only did he have a full blown stereo system and CD's but they were catalogued and categorised to within an inch of their lives. It is because of T that I started my love affair with Paul Weller and The Eagles.
Whenever we catch up, music is normally the first thing we discuss. And yesterday was no exception. New purchases, new bands, up-coming concerts were all discussed and dissected.
"I've got a gem for you" I tell him "JJ Cale"
"Oh my God, I haven't heard that since we were at Uni"
I have to thank my mate Warlock for introducing this great sound to me on our trip to Pendle Hill (spot the link). And it really is the perfect soundtrack for a sunny Sunday afternoon. So much so that T and I listen to it twice!
The lazy guitar and chilled out vocals beg the listener to drop everything and relax. Even the titles of the songs urge you to forget the real world 'Katy Kool Lady', 'Lou-Easy Ann', 'Let's Go To Tahiti' - well if you insist! I was never into recreational drugs even as a student. That whole culture passed me by, it's never appealed, never interested me and it never will but this album is almost like the drug trip without the drugs. With very little effort or thought required, you will find yourself kicking back and pondering life at your leisure. And all without the nasty come down - jobs a goodun!
If T and I were still young and carefree students, this album would definitely have been the start of a large Sunday Session in the Students Union culminating in kebabs at 3am. Unfortunately, the degrees have been long awarded and the professional world embraced. But for the duration of this magical album we can pretend...
Whenever we catch up, music is normally the first thing we discuss. And yesterday was no exception. New purchases, new bands, up-coming concerts were all discussed and dissected.
"I've got a gem for you" I tell him "JJ Cale"
"Oh my God, I haven't heard that since we were at Uni"
I have to thank my mate Warlock for introducing this great sound to me on our trip to Pendle Hill (spot the link). And it really is the perfect soundtrack for a sunny Sunday afternoon. So much so that T and I listen to it twice!
The lazy guitar and chilled out vocals beg the listener to drop everything and relax. Even the titles of the songs urge you to forget the real world 'Katy Kool Lady', 'Lou-Easy Ann', 'Let's Go To Tahiti' - well if you insist! I was never into recreational drugs even as a student. That whole culture passed me by, it's never appealed, never interested me and it never will but this album is almost like the drug trip without the drugs. With very little effort or thought required, you will find yourself kicking back and pondering life at your leisure. And all without the nasty come down - jobs a goodun!
If T and I were still young and carefree students, this album would definitely have been the start of a large Sunday Session in the Students Union culminating in kebabs at 3am. Unfortunately, the degrees have been long awarded and the professional world embraced. But for the duration of this magical album we can pretend...
Sunday, 14 March 2010
I remember that the first time around...
I've hosted and been to many fancy dress parties over the years. No idea has ever been too random or too much of a challenge. I have a Dressing Up Bag under my bed bursting with weird and wonderful bits of costume. If you need a plastic viking hat, silver platform boots or a Cruella De Vil outfit, I am your girl! And that's just the tip of the iceberg...
Next weekend sees me heading to Butlins in Bognor Regis for a Hen Weekend. There are 40 of us, mostly girls with a smattering of boys descending upon Bognor awash with outfits. The theme is School Disco Friday and 80's Disco Saturday. Cue a flurry of activity last Saturday that saw me trailing around Primani to put the ultimate Neon outfit together.
In my vast wardrobe, I already have a black ra-ra mini-skirt and a stripey top with quite large shoulders. I just needed the other bits and bobs to complete the look. Once you realise that the idea is to look as revoltingly hideous as possible, shopping suddenly becomes much easier and so much more fun! And luckily for me, the shops are full of the stuff that I used to wear back in the 80's (the first time around!).
My Primani basket is quickly filled with some Neon pink tights, purple legwarmers, a handful of neon bobbles, a truly awful neon pink stretchy belt, some chunky neon beads and bangles and some hoop earrings that look as if they will turn my ears neon green (well at least it will be in keeping!).
I'm just about to head for the check-out when my eye is caught and held by the most staggeringly awful accessory. Oh yes, you will be mine I think as I add it to the basket.
So what is this wondrous thing? I hear you cry. Brace yourselves...I have found the ultimate Neon, 80's, tacky and perfect item. A hot pink sequined visor!!!! My hair is just begging to be back combed within an inch of its life before being gathered into a ponytail that will emerge triumphant from the top of it - perfect!!!!
If I don't pull, it's a crying shame!!!
Next weekend sees me heading to Butlins in Bognor Regis for a Hen Weekend. There are 40 of us, mostly girls with a smattering of boys descending upon Bognor awash with outfits. The theme is School Disco Friday and 80's Disco Saturday. Cue a flurry of activity last Saturday that saw me trailing around Primani to put the ultimate Neon outfit together.
In my vast wardrobe, I already have a black ra-ra mini-skirt and a stripey top with quite large shoulders. I just needed the other bits and bobs to complete the look. Once you realise that the idea is to look as revoltingly hideous as possible, shopping suddenly becomes much easier and so much more fun! And luckily for me, the shops are full of the stuff that I used to wear back in the 80's (the first time around!).
My Primani basket is quickly filled with some Neon pink tights, purple legwarmers, a handful of neon bobbles, a truly awful neon pink stretchy belt, some chunky neon beads and bangles and some hoop earrings that look as if they will turn my ears neon green (well at least it will be in keeping!).
I'm just about to head for the check-out when my eye is caught and held by the most staggeringly awful accessory. Oh yes, you will be mine I think as I add it to the basket.
So what is this wondrous thing? I hear you cry. Brace yourselves...I have found the ultimate Neon, 80's, tacky and perfect item. A hot pink sequined visor!!!! My hair is just begging to be back combed within an inch of its life before being gathered into a ponytail that will emerge triumphant from the top of it - perfect!!!!
If I don't pull, it's a crying shame!!!
For You
Funny -
the things you miss the most
Your smile, your eyes
Your love, your hugs,
Your common sense
Your singing and baking
Your laughing and joy
The list is long but doesn't do justice
So strong,
so funny
so patient
so caring
There's one small world that sums you up perfectly
A very small word that means so much
That explains who you were
and why you were loved
And that word is MUM!
7-8-08
Happy Mother's Day
the things you miss the most
Your smile, your eyes
Your love, your hugs,
Your common sense
Your singing and baking
Your laughing and joy
The list is long but doesn't do justice
So strong,
so funny
so patient
so caring
There's one small world that sums you up perfectly
A very small word that means so much
That explains who you were
and why you were loved
And that word is MUM!
7-8-08
Happy Mother's Day
Thursday, 11 March 2010
The Hospice
It's nine years almost to the day since my Mum was taken into Queenscourt Hospice for the last stage in her battle against Breast Cancer.
Frantic family phone calls were made - one to my brother in Australia and one to me down in London. At the time, there seemed to be little hope that mum would still be alive when I got there never mind my brother who had to face an awful 24 hour flight with no phone contact.
That phone call triggered the biggest adrenalin rush of my life- my heart and head became dis-connected. I don't recall my journey but I do know it was fast, very fast. When I arrived at the Hospice there had been some kind of mini-miracle. In true mum style, she had rallied. There was no way she was going without saying goodbye to her kids. And thankfully a day and a half later, my brother also made it to the bedside. But even then, mum wasn't content to just go - oh no, she had very definite ideas about what she still wanted to do.
And so for the next 6 weeks, the Hospice became a second home to us. The staff were unfailingly kind, welcoming, patient and understanding. No question or request was too much trouble. And they always answered honestly. They had no idea why mum had rallied or even how long it would last, they just urged us to enjoy it while we could and who were we to argue with that?
Despite the wonderful level of care, mum was still fighting a losing battle and on April 27th at 5.30am she finally gave up the fight. And once again the Hospice were there to help us through those first few hours when everything in your world splits, breaks and falls apart.
For the last 6 years, I have done my best to give a little bit back to the place that made such a difference to mum's last few weeks. It is also the place where my Grandma spent her last week. In fact, she died in the same bed as my mum. I want to make sure that bed is in the best possible condition just in case my name ends up on it one day as well!
And so I've given a little bit back by organising charity fund raisers. They've all had different themes and have been held in various places. But the common link has always been to raise as much money as possible for a place that is priceless. The next event is Saturday 17th April, the theme is Ascot and all are welcome. But if you can't come and would love to show your support in another way please visit the page www.justgiving.com./ascotball
Your donation could help another family to receive the care and support that mine did and that's something you just can't put a price on!
Frantic family phone calls were made - one to my brother in Australia and one to me down in London. At the time, there seemed to be little hope that mum would still be alive when I got there never mind my brother who had to face an awful 24 hour flight with no phone contact.
That phone call triggered the biggest adrenalin rush of my life- my heart and head became dis-connected. I don't recall my journey but I do know it was fast, very fast. When I arrived at the Hospice there had been some kind of mini-miracle. In true mum style, she had rallied. There was no way she was going without saying goodbye to her kids. And thankfully a day and a half later, my brother also made it to the bedside. But even then, mum wasn't content to just go - oh no, she had very definite ideas about what she still wanted to do.
And so for the next 6 weeks, the Hospice became a second home to us. The staff were unfailingly kind, welcoming, patient and understanding. No question or request was too much trouble. And they always answered honestly. They had no idea why mum had rallied or even how long it would last, they just urged us to enjoy it while we could and who were we to argue with that?
Despite the wonderful level of care, mum was still fighting a losing battle and on April 27th at 5.30am she finally gave up the fight. And once again the Hospice were there to help us through those first few hours when everything in your world splits, breaks and falls apart.
For the last 6 years, I have done my best to give a little bit back to the place that made such a difference to mum's last few weeks. It is also the place where my Grandma spent her last week. In fact, she died in the same bed as my mum. I want to make sure that bed is in the best possible condition just in case my name ends up on it one day as well!
And so I've given a little bit back by organising charity fund raisers. They've all had different themes and have been held in various places. But the common link has always been to raise as much money as possible for a place that is priceless. The next event is Saturday 17th April, the theme is Ascot and all are welcome. But if you can't come and would love to show your support in another way please visit the page www.justgiving.com./ascotball
Your donation could help another family to receive the care and support that mine did and that's something you just can't put a price on!
Wednesday, 10 March 2010
Dzien Dobry
UNLIKE SOME SIBLINGS, MY BROTHER AND I ARE GREAT FRIENDS. WE HAVE A SIMILAR SENSE OF HUMOUR, LIKE THE SAME KIND OF MUSIC, GO TO GIGS TOGETHER, HAVE BEEN BITTEN BY THE SAME TRAVEL BUG AND HAVE THE SAME ABILITY TO SEE THE RANDOM AND RIDICULOUS IN EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENS. BACK IN 2006, HE BOUGHT A RUSTY OLD TRANSIT THAT HAD BEEN CONVERTED INTO A CAMPER (COMPLETE WITH PORCELAIN SINK AND COOKER!) AND HE SET OFF TO EXPLORE EUROPE. BEING A TEACHER, I WAS ABLE TO JOIN HIM FOR THREE WEEKS ON THE SCANDINAVIAN, EASTERN EUROPEAN LEG OF THE TOUR. I CAN HONESTLY SAY WE HAD THREE WEEKS OF FUN, EYE WATERING LAUGHTER AND ENOUGH RANDOM MOMENTS TO KEEP US EATING OUT FOR YEARS TO COME. THE FOLLOWING BLOG IS AN OLD TRAVELOGUE THAT I'VE ADAPTED AND IT RECOUNTS ONE OF THE MOST BIZARRE EVENINGS OF THE TRIP - ENJOY...
Imagine yourself getting onto a huge boat about to leave well ordered, immaculate Sweden where everybody speaks English to travel for 18 hours to Poland, where English speakers are rare outside the main towns. Gulp - that was us as we boarded our ferry. Neither of us was looking forward to 18 hours on a boat, especially as we hadn't opted for a cabin but were going to sleep on the floor or in chairs. And who says travelling is glamorous?
As it turned out we had the most fun filled, bizarre, and random 18 hours of the trip. Firstly, the beers were considerably cheaper than Sweden so brother (we'll call him Mr Transit) was delighted. Secondly, the ferry had an on board nightclub. So after a couple of drinks, a quick nap and a game of cards we were ready to cut some shapes on the floor.
The nightclub was full of Polish people the Swedes having retired to bed to make themselves even more gorgeous for their arrival in a new country. Polish people have an amazing love of life - they embrace everything with enthusiasm, especially drinking and dancing! When we entered the nightclub the floor was awash with couples dancing madly and there was lots of swinging partners around, jumping, hopping and other such flamboyant movements. Mr Transit and I sat down with a mind to join the dancing a little later. Maybe so for Mr Transit but there were other plans for me! A tall, skinny Prince Harry lookalike with MAD hair came and asked my brother's permission to dance with me. Mr Transit thought this was hilarious "you crack on mate, she's all yours" was his brotherly reply! My dance partner was very drunk and as he lead me to the floor I was starting to feel a little nervous.
By the end of the dance I was feeling more than a little sea sick too, as his dance moves consisted of
a - swinging me wildly from side to side
b - spinning me round and round
c - a combination of the above
d - flinging himself to his knees while spinning me around
He also held a conversation with me despite me telling him repeatedly that I didn't understand and I was English. My knowledge of the Polish vocab consists of hello, goodbye and cheers and unfortunately I haven't yet mastered the phrase "your dancing is making me feel dog rough, please let me go and sit down" The text books never contain anything so useful...
Mr Transit of course appreciated this as only a brother can - by laughing, laughing oh and laughing! I returned to my chair worn out but having enjoyed myself.
Mr Transit and I cut some very British shapes on the dance floor and then found our way to the lounge deck and sprawled on the floor until morning. Well actually we lay in our sleeping bags crammed between the seats on one of the decks but I don't wish to be picky!
Our plan once we arrived in Gdansk was to treat ourselves to a cheap hotel or hostel. Gdansk had other ideas. The whole city is cut in two by the Polish answer to the M25 which meant getting to the part of town we wanted was impossible. Added to this was the roadworks which were nightmarish. We spent 2 hours getting from the ferry (5km) to the town centre only to find out that the hostel was full. I'm sure Gdansk is very nice but my love for it had gone and we left and headed for the Great Masurian Lakes.
Now I hope you are sitting comfortably, as far from the road as you can be while I tell you about the drivers over here. THEY ARE MAD!!! Mr Transit and I have experienced roads in the South of France and South East Asia but let me tell you they are tame compared to here. Nobody seems to take any notice of the speed restrictions, the rules, the road signs etc. Instead a normal 50kph road is turned into 4 lanes of speeding and overtaking traffic. We have lived in fear of being driven off the road into the surrounding ditches so someone can over take us. They do this with alarming frequency on blind bends, up hill, across solid white lines. Dear God it is terrifying!! We have even been overtaken by two caravans which then proceeded to bounce and jump across the road due to speed and pot holes. I am now immune to anything!
Having survived the roads (just) we found a great campsite by a lake and thankfully left the madness to settle down for a good nights sleep. And I mean good, I slept for 11 blissful hours. Mr Transit was considering checking for a pulse at one point.
The next day saw us driving to Mikolajki (mee-ko-wahy-kee). This is a truly quaint and picturesque place perched on the lake. Our camp site was just 5 minutes from the town centre so we wandered down to have a look. There seemed to be a summer fete or festival happening and lots of Polish families having a great holiday. We sampled some wine and beer and took in the atmosphere. We have been lucky with the live music in the countries we have visited but we were a little perplexed to hear the Irish Rovers being sung in Polish! Well at least we knew the words - sort of.
Sadly we left this lovely place as we are on a fairly tight schedule to get to Budapest in time for the festival there. And so once again, we pulled onto the road and faced the onslaught of the Polish traffic. I've learnt that the best thing is to close your eyes and go to a happy place - I'll see you there.
Imagine yourself getting onto a huge boat about to leave well ordered, immaculate Sweden where everybody speaks English to travel for 18 hours to Poland, where English speakers are rare outside the main towns. Gulp - that was us as we boarded our ferry. Neither of us was looking forward to 18 hours on a boat, especially as we hadn't opted for a cabin but were going to sleep on the floor or in chairs. And who says travelling is glamorous?
As it turned out we had the most fun filled, bizarre, and random 18 hours of the trip. Firstly, the beers were considerably cheaper than Sweden so brother (we'll call him Mr Transit) was delighted. Secondly, the ferry had an on board nightclub. So after a couple of drinks, a quick nap and a game of cards we were ready to cut some shapes on the floor.
The nightclub was full of Polish people the Swedes having retired to bed to make themselves even more gorgeous for their arrival in a new country. Polish people have an amazing love of life - they embrace everything with enthusiasm, especially drinking and dancing! When we entered the nightclub the floor was awash with couples dancing madly and there was lots of swinging partners around, jumping, hopping and other such flamboyant movements. Mr Transit and I sat down with a mind to join the dancing a little later. Maybe so for Mr Transit but there were other plans for me! A tall, skinny Prince Harry lookalike with MAD hair came and asked my brother's permission to dance with me. Mr Transit thought this was hilarious "you crack on mate, she's all yours" was his brotherly reply! My dance partner was very drunk and as he lead me to the floor I was starting to feel a little nervous.
By the end of the dance I was feeling more than a little sea sick too, as his dance moves consisted of
a - swinging me wildly from side to side
b - spinning me round and round
c - a combination of the above
d - flinging himself to his knees while spinning me around
He also held a conversation with me despite me telling him repeatedly that I didn't understand and I was English. My knowledge of the Polish vocab consists of hello, goodbye and cheers and unfortunately I haven't yet mastered the phrase "your dancing is making me feel dog rough, please let me go and sit down" The text books never contain anything so useful...
Mr Transit of course appreciated this as only a brother can - by laughing, laughing oh and laughing! I returned to my chair worn out but having enjoyed myself.
Mr Transit and I cut some very British shapes on the dance floor and then found our way to the lounge deck and sprawled on the floor until morning. Well actually we lay in our sleeping bags crammed between the seats on one of the decks but I don't wish to be picky!
Our plan once we arrived in Gdansk was to treat ourselves to a cheap hotel or hostel. Gdansk had other ideas. The whole city is cut in two by the Polish answer to the M25 which meant getting to the part of town we wanted was impossible. Added to this was the roadworks which were nightmarish. We spent 2 hours getting from the ferry (5km) to the town centre only to find out that the hostel was full. I'm sure Gdansk is very nice but my love for it had gone and we left and headed for the Great Masurian Lakes.
Now I hope you are sitting comfortably, as far from the road as you can be while I tell you about the drivers over here. THEY ARE MAD!!! Mr Transit and I have experienced roads in the South of France and South East Asia but let me tell you they are tame compared to here. Nobody seems to take any notice of the speed restrictions, the rules, the road signs etc. Instead a normal 50kph road is turned into 4 lanes of speeding and overtaking traffic. We have lived in fear of being driven off the road into the surrounding ditches so someone can over take us. They do this with alarming frequency on blind bends, up hill, across solid white lines. Dear God it is terrifying!! We have even been overtaken by two caravans which then proceeded to bounce and jump across the road due to speed and pot holes. I am now immune to anything!
Having survived the roads (just) we found a great campsite by a lake and thankfully left the madness to settle down for a good nights sleep. And I mean good, I slept for 11 blissful hours. Mr Transit was considering checking for a pulse at one point.
The next day saw us driving to Mikolajki (mee-ko-wahy-kee). This is a truly quaint and picturesque place perched on the lake. Our camp site was just 5 minutes from the town centre so we wandered down to have a look. There seemed to be a summer fete or festival happening and lots of Polish families having a great holiday. We sampled some wine and beer and took in the atmosphere. We have been lucky with the live music in the countries we have visited but we were a little perplexed to hear the Irish Rovers being sung in Polish! Well at least we knew the words - sort of.
Sadly we left this lovely place as we are on a fairly tight schedule to get to Budapest in time for the festival there. And so once again, we pulled onto the road and faced the onslaught of the Polish traffic. I've learnt that the best thing is to close your eyes and go to a happy place - I'll see you there.
This Is Your Life!
I've been a teacher for 13 years now and I love it but it can really make you feel old at times.
It's just after New Year, my brother, girlfriend and some of their friends have decided to make an afternoon/evening of it in Liverpool. Following a nosh up and a couple of cheeky pints we have made our way to the Cavern Pub to watch the legendary and magnificent KAPPA band play. Now I could write a whole blog about this band alone, but that will keep for another time. They are like nothing you will ever see, hear or experience anywhere else and amazingly their gigs are generally free. If I could pass on one pearl of wisdom for life, it would be to get yourselves to the next KAPPA gig - enough said!
Anyway, back to the blog in question. We've had an amazing night and have made our way back to catch the train. I should point out, we have had a couple more cheeky pints and are feeling quite content with the world. At the station, my eye is caught by two young and gorgeous things who keep looking over and giggling. I said we were content with the world, not rolling drunk so I'm a little perplexed by their interest and laughter. Shrugging it off we get onto the train and settle in for the journey.
The two girls have sat down in the seats across the aisle. After a while, one of them leans forward and asks
"er, did you used to teach in R*&%$£" school?"
I look over at them and the years, glam clothes and make up fall away and I am staring into the eyes of two five your olds in my first class as a Newly Qualified Teacher!
"Oh my God, I used to teach you!" I gasp torn between horror at them being old enough to be out drinking and gratification that I made such an impact. Any teacher will tell you that you never forget your first ever class and it's true. I even have a framed photo of them on my wall. They were a wonderful class, great children, lovely parents, and a really happy time in my career. And I'm not just saying that because of the following response!
"yes, we loved you, you let us use those lovely gel pens to write with and you let us bring in our own music to play to the class. We had such good fun in your class. You were our best teacher at primary school"
I've got to be honest, I''m really quite touched and proud. Here are two mature, articulate girls who are both at college and making their way in life and it seems as if I may have contributed in some small way to their journey. And then my lovely brother who has had rather more cheeky beers than me leans over and says
"I bet she was a tyrant about the sand pit. Go on tell us, was she, was she?"
I give him my best Miss Sunshine is not amused glare which roughly translated means -you are in a whole heap of trouble when we get off the train! Luckily for me, my lovely ex-pupils defend me valiantly before leaving the train at their stop.
I feel ancient! I've reached the time in my life when I can join the ranks of old teachers who dread and fear the immortal words "Didn't you used to teach me?" All that's left now is to be wheeled onto 'This is Your Life'. Surely one of my ex-pupils will be famous enough for that...
It's just after New Year, my brother, girlfriend and some of their friends have decided to make an afternoon/evening of it in Liverpool. Following a nosh up and a couple of cheeky pints we have made our way to the Cavern Pub to watch the legendary and magnificent KAPPA band play. Now I could write a whole blog about this band alone, but that will keep for another time. They are like nothing you will ever see, hear or experience anywhere else and amazingly their gigs are generally free. If I could pass on one pearl of wisdom for life, it would be to get yourselves to the next KAPPA gig - enough said!
Anyway, back to the blog in question. We've had an amazing night and have made our way back to catch the train. I should point out, we have had a couple more cheeky pints and are feeling quite content with the world. At the station, my eye is caught by two young and gorgeous things who keep looking over and giggling. I said we were content with the world, not rolling drunk so I'm a little perplexed by their interest and laughter. Shrugging it off we get onto the train and settle in for the journey.
The two girls have sat down in the seats across the aisle. After a while, one of them leans forward and asks
"er, did you used to teach in R*&%$£" school?"
I look over at them and the years, glam clothes and make up fall away and I am staring into the eyes of two five your olds in my first class as a Newly Qualified Teacher!
"Oh my God, I used to teach you!" I gasp torn between horror at them being old enough to be out drinking and gratification that I made such an impact. Any teacher will tell you that you never forget your first ever class and it's true. I even have a framed photo of them on my wall. They were a wonderful class, great children, lovely parents, and a really happy time in my career. And I'm not just saying that because of the following response!
"yes, we loved you, you let us use those lovely gel pens to write with and you let us bring in our own music to play to the class. We had such good fun in your class. You were our best teacher at primary school"
I've got to be honest, I''m really quite touched and proud. Here are two mature, articulate girls who are both at college and making their way in life and it seems as if I may have contributed in some small way to their journey. And then my lovely brother who has had rather more cheeky beers than me leans over and says
"I bet she was a tyrant about the sand pit. Go on tell us, was she, was she?"
I give him my best Miss Sunshine is not amused glare which roughly translated means -you are in a whole heap of trouble when we get off the train! Luckily for me, my lovely ex-pupils defend me valiantly before leaving the train at their stop.
I feel ancient! I've reached the time in my life when I can join the ranks of old teachers who dread and fear the immortal words "Didn't you used to teach me?" All that's left now is to be wheeled onto 'This is Your Life'. Surely one of my ex-pupils will be famous enough for that...
Sunday, 7 March 2010
It's A Beautiful City
For two years now I've been keen to leave the Big Smoke and head back 'ooop North'. The fresh air, sea and proper chips have been calling me homeward for some time. The vibrancy, turmoil and chaos that I once loved about being down here have become more and more tiring as time goes on. The sheer frustration of not being able to pop to the shops for a loaf and a pint of milk without negotiating a bewildering traffic system and then having to pay to park for a mere 10 minutes is beyond belief. Plus the knowledge that no matter how many man hours I put in at work, I will never be able to live in anything bigger than my current 1 bedroom flat is a lowering thought. Friends up north have houses with 4 bedrooms, a garden and a drive full of cars for the same money. Maths was never my strong point but even I can see this doesn't add up!
And yet, I will miss this mad and crazy place.
Today saw me heading to town to meet a friend for lunch. Having stopped off at Waterstones, I headed to central London clutching a great book. First stop Liverpool Street for a quick mooch around Spitalfields Market. The market houses an eclectic mix of stalls including vintage clothes, books, jewellery, bags, greetings cards and delis. There is always something interesting to look at, always some eccentric shoppers to people watch, always a great selection of cafes to lure you in for a herbal tea and a slice of organic cake. THIS IS SOMETHING I WILL MISS! I don't drink regular tea and coffee, preferring to indulge in what my brother calls Hippy Tea. I have learnt to take it for granted that all cafes will stock a selection of Hippy Teas for customers like me. But I have a suspicion that even Earl Grey will be considered outlandish in some cafes north of the Watford Gap, never mind Rooibos. If I'm wrong I am both sorry and delighted in equal measure!
So from Spitalfields I made my way to the steps of St. Paul's to meet M. M is from my home town and like me migrated down south for job opportunities and for a taste of excitement. As we sat having our pasta lunch in one of the many chain restaurants he turned to me and said "I mean look, we are having lunch right next to St. Paul's Cathedral! It's kind of mad isn't it?" As I turned to look at the impressive and majestic building it dawned on me that yes, it is mad! I've got to the point where all these amazing landmarks no longer make me catch my breath. They have become as ordinary and mundane as the town hall or pier back at home. And now that M has got me thinking I realise that this city is full of beautiful, majestic and impressive buildings and places. It's made me want to explore them all over again before I leave.
And so instead of going straight home I decide to make the most of the sun and incredibly bracing wind and cross the Millennium Bridge. I crossed this bridge on the day it opened for all of one hour before they were forced to shut it because of the swaying! It's nice to think I've been part of history. Every time I cross this bridge I think back to that day and remember what a drag it was getting to The Globe before it opened. The wind is icy and the bridge is full of people with that typically British walk (even the tourists develop it very quickly), head down against the elements and plough on regardless.
At the other side of the bridge I turn and look back at St. Paul's. It is truly beautiful. Designed and built in the 1600's, nothing that has been built in the last two centuries can really touch it in terms of design or craftmanship. It seems that even fate admires it - during WW2, every building around it was bombed and destroyed leaving St. Paul's like a beacon in a circle of destruction. It certainly makes you think.
The cold has got too much for me now and I walk back towards the Cathedral this time sparing a look for what is on either side of the bridge. And there it is! The view down the river to Westminster and then,the other way to Tower Bridge. A view that will be forever imprinted on my mind.
When the sun is out, there is no denying this is a mighty beautiful city!
And yet, I will miss this mad and crazy place.
Today saw me heading to town to meet a friend for lunch. Having stopped off at Waterstones, I headed to central London clutching a great book. First stop Liverpool Street for a quick mooch around Spitalfields Market. The market houses an eclectic mix of stalls including vintage clothes, books, jewellery, bags, greetings cards and delis. There is always something interesting to look at, always some eccentric shoppers to people watch, always a great selection of cafes to lure you in for a herbal tea and a slice of organic cake. THIS IS SOMETHING I WILL MISS! I don't drink regular tea and coffee, preferring to indulge in what my brother calls Hippy Tea. I have learnt to take it for granted that all cafes will stock a selection of Hippy Teas for customers like me. But I have a suspicion that even Earl Grey will be considered outlandish in some cafes north of the Watford Gap, never mind Rooibos. If I'm wrong I am both sorry and delighted in equal measure!
So from Spitalfields I made my way to the steps of St. Paul's to meet M. M is from my home town and like me migrated down south for job opportunities and for a taste of excitement. As we sat having our pasta lunch in one of the many chain restaurants he turned to me and said "I mean look, we are having lunch right next to St. Paul's Cathedral! It's kind of mad isn't it?" As I turned to look at the impressive and majestic building it dawned on me that yes, it is mad! I've got to the point where all these amazing landmarks no longer make me catch my breath. They have become as ordinary and mundane as the town hall or pier back at home. And now that M has got me thinking I realise that this city is full of beautiful, majestic and impressive buildings and places. It's made me want to explore them all over again before I leave.
And so instead of going straight home I decide to make the most of the sun and incredibly bracing wind and cross the Millennium Bridge. I crossed this bridge on the day it opened for all of one hour before they were forced to shut it because of the swaying! It's nice to think I've been part of history. Every time I cross this bridge I think back to that day and remember what a drag it was getting to The Globe before it opened. The wind is icy and the bridge is full of people with that typically British walk (even the tourists develop it very quickly), head down against the elements and plough on regardless.
At the other side of the bridge I turn and look back at St. Paul's. It is truly beautiful. Designed and built in the 1600's, nothing that has been built in the last two centuries can really touch it in terms of design or craftmanship. It seems that even fate admires it - during WW2, every building around it was bombed and destroyed leaving St. Paul's like a beacon in a circle of destruction. It certainly makes you think.
The cold has got too much for me now and I walk back towards the Cathedral this time sparing a look for what is on either side of the bridge. And there it is! The view down the river to Westminster and then,the other way to Tower Bridge. A view that will be forever imprinted on my mind.
When the sun is out, there is no denying this is a mighty beautiful city!
Saturday, 6 March 2010
No Distractions Please!
Today's blog is purely a work avoidance strategy!
In five short months I will be leaving London for good. The bright lights of the city will no longer be mine to call home. And boy do I have a lot to cram into those five months.
I'm generally away a lot at the weekends. The mileage on my car is obscenely high and if I could rack up tarmac miles in the same way as air miles I could have travelled around the world twice by now. So I have decided to spend as many weekends as possible down here while I still have the chance. There are so many things that I still haven't done in this great city and before I know it, July will be here and I'll be off in a flurry of bubble wrap and cardboard boxes. I have a list 'Ten Things to do Before Leaving London' and I am determined to get through (and write about) as many as possible.
But as well as exciting social events to organise, I also have to face the scary and mundane task of clearing my flat ready to be put on the market. This was the big plan for this weekend. I was going to do a complete cull on clothes and shoes before moving onto books and school stuff. The truly terrifying prospect of going through the 'stuff you keep in case it's useful' has also to be faced at some point.
You can probably see where this is going and it's not down the road marked success or achievement!
The clothes and shoes first:-
You'd think this would be easy; open cupboard, remove unwanted items, place in bag to recycle, close cupboard, repeat with drawers. Yes...the theory is perfect but the reality somewhat different. I don't know if this is a girl thing or if it's a me thing but I just can't open the cupboard and remove stuff. I have to take stuff out and think about it. Normally, I have to try the clothes on again (complete with shoes of course) before making the final decision. And even then I end up with different piles 1. definitely going, 2. maybe going, 3. must try on with jeans/skirt/trousers before making decision! 4. I'll add it to my fancy dress box!
So this is what really happened this afternoon:-
Open cupboard, look through clothes in bewilderment, sigh, put on kettle, open blog page, start writing!
In the words of Scarlett O'Hara "tomorrow is another day". And I better make sure the cull begins then!
In five short months I will be leaving London for good. The bright lights of the city will no longer be mine to call home. And boy do I have a lot to cram into those five months.
I'm generally away a lot at the weekends. The mileage on my car is obscenely high and if I could rack up tarmac miles in the same way as air miles I could have travelled around the world twice by now. So I have decided to spend as many weekends as possible down here while I still have the chance. There are so many things that I still haven't done in this great city and before I know it, July will be here and I'll be off in a flurry of bubble wrap and cardboard boxes. I have a list 'Ten Things to do Before Leaving London' and I am determined to get through (and write about) as many as possible.
But as well as exciting social events to organise, I also have to face the scary and mundane task of clearing my flat ready to be put on the market. This was the big plan for this weekend. I was going to do a complete cull on clothes and shoes before moving onto books and school stuff. The truly terrifying prospect of going through the 'stuff you keep in case it's useful' has also to be faced at some point.
You can probably see where this is going and it's not down the road marked success or achievement!
The clothes and shoes first:-
You'd think this would be easy; open cupboard, remove unwanted items, place in bag to recycle, close cupboard, repeat with drawers. Yes...the theory is perfect but the reality somewhat different. I don't know if this is a girl thing or if it's a me thing but I just can't open the cupboard and remove stuff. I have to take stuff out and think about it. Normally, I have to try the clothes on again (complete with shoes of course) before making the final decision. And even then I end up with different piles 1. definitely going, 2. maybe going, 3. must try on with jeans/skirt/trousers before making decision! 4. I'll add it to my fancy dress box!
So this is what really happened this afternoon:-
Open cupboard, look through clothes in bewilderment, sigh, put on kettle, open blog page, start writing!
In the words of Scarlett O'Hara "tomorrow is another day". And I better make sure the cull begins then!
Friday, 5 March 2010
Don't Worry, It's Just a Glove!
All in all, it's been a random kind of week!
Monday found me being observed and monitored by my boss and the SIP (school improvement partner, which is not as bad as OFSTED but still stressful) as I taught Dance to 30 four and five year olds. My objectives were clear, the children were concentrating and ready for action...what could possibly go wrong?!
Well, quite a bit actually! Just as the SIP and my boss had settled themselvs down to watch, the child DIRECTLY infront of them makes a rather small puddle. No forget that, puddle is completely the wrong word. Try river, lake, ocean and you'll get an idea of the quantity of liquid that was suddenly covering the floor! Marvellous I thought as I kept an outward cool and navigated the other 29 (and by now very curious) children away from the scene of the flood! What is it they say about working with children?
They also say never work with animals but Thursday saw me doing that too! It was World Book Day and I dressed as Old MacDonald with the rest of the staff in our team as animals (you need to make some allowances for poetic license here!) The children came in a multi-coloured array of nylon and polyester that gave off enough electricity to power a small tropical island for a month.
"Who are you?" enquired one little cherub. I should explain here that I was dressed in checked shirt, plaits, cowboy hat, jeans and wellies so I clearly wasn't Cinderella.
"I'm Old MacDonald" I tell her.
"But you're not Old!" the cherub replies.
Ten smiley faces for that child! I swept out to the garden like a teenager, full of life and joi de vive. Unfortunately this was short lived. In my attempt to teach the children how to skip, I decided to demonstrate. Now normally, skipping isn't a problem, but for some bizarre reason that could only happen to me, my back decided that mid-skip would be the perfect time to go! So who's not old I thought as I crawled back inside with my joi de vive screwed up in a ball. There's getting into character and method acting but seriously!
Luckily my good friends J and J invited me to their canal boat for dinner. So that was cooking taken care of - just the canal path, crossing the lock and the climb onto the boat to manage and all would be well! And it was. I sat by their wood stove with a wheatie on my back and a Co-codomol to suck on and suddenly the world seemed quite pain free.
By 8.30 (even for a school night, that is ridiculously early) I was in need of my bed. So J and the dog Ruby walked me back down the canal to the car. Crossing the lock entails a narrow metal ledge that runs across the top of the gate. Although there is a handle on one side, it can be quite exciting in the daylight so in darkness there's always an added sense of fun and danger, especially when Ruby spots something in the bush and does her best to heave you into the dark and filthy water. We're half way across with a 9 foot sheer drop on one side and a scuzz and litter filled lock on the other when I spot something that looks like a human hand - just hanging around, all bloated looking on the surface. Getting a second look isn't really a viable option so we continue across.
"Do you think that was a hand?" I ask J in a hushed voice
"I've got to be honest, it looked like one" she replies in a blood curdling stage whisper. "Now make sure you text me when you get home safely!"
The drive home is filled with the imaginings of an overactive, creative (and co-codomol filled) mind. By the time I arrive, I've envisaged a full blown series of Prime Suspect being enacted in East London. As per instructions, I text J and J to reassure them that the axe-murderer of Bow hasn't hitched a lift in my car and chopped off my hand to add to the collection.
"Glad to hear it honey, I checked the hand on the way back - it was just a glove. Sleep well x"
Talk about anti-climax!
Monday found me being observed and monitored by my boss and the SIP (school improvement partner, which is not as bad as OFSTED but still stressful) as I taught Dance to 30 four and five year olds. My objectives were clear, the children were concentrating and ready for action...what could possibly go wrong?!
Well, quite a bit actually! Just as the SIP and my boss had settled themselvs down to watch, the child DIRECTLY infront of them makes a rather small puddle. No forget that, puddle is completely the wrong word. Try river, lake, ocean and you'll get an idea of the quantity of liquid that was suddenly covering the floor! Marvellous I thought as I kept an outward cool and navigated the other 29 (and by now very curious) children away from the scene of the flood! What is it they say about working with children?
They also say never work with animals but Thursday saw me doing that too! It was World Book Day and I dressed as Old MacDonald with the rest of the staff in our team as animals (you need to make some allowances for poetic license here!) The children came in a multi-coloured array of nylon and polyester that gave off enough electricity to power a small tropical island for a month.
"Who are you?" enquired one little cherub. I should explain here that I was dressed in checked shirt, plaits, cowboy hat, jeans and wellies so I clearly wasn't Cinderella.
"I'm Old MacDonald" I tell her.
"But you're not Old!" the cherub replies.
Ten smiley faces for that child! I swept out to the garden like a teenager, full of life and joi de vive. Unfortunately this was short lived. In my attempt to teach the children how to skip, I decided to demonstrate. Now normally, skipping isn't a problem, but for some bizarre reason that could only happen to me, my back decided that mid-skip would be the perfect time to go! So who's not old I thought as I crawled back inside with my joi de vive screwed up in a ball. There's getting into character and method acting but seriously!
Luckily my good friends J and J invited me to their canal boat for dinner. So that was cooking taken care of - just the canal path, crossing the lock and the climb onto the boat to manage and all would be well! And it was. I sat by their wood stove with a wheatie on my back and a Co-codomol to suck on and suddenly the world seemed quite pain free.
By 8.30 (even for a school night, that is ridiculously early) I was in need of my bed. So J and the dog Ruby walked me back down the canal to the car. Crossing the lock entails a narrow metal ledge that runs across the top of the gate. Although there is a handle on one side, it can be quite exciting in the daylight so in darkness there's always an added sense of fun and danger, especially when Ruby spots something in the bush and does her best to heave you into the dark and filthy water. We're half way across with a 9 foot sheer drop on one side and a scuzz and litter filled lock on the other when I spot something that looks like a human hand - just hanging around, all bloated looking on the surface. Getting a second look isn't really a viable option so we continue across.
"Do you think that was a hand?" I ask J in a hushed voice
"I've got to be honest, it looked like one" she replies in a blood curdling stage whisper. "Now make sure you text me when you get home safely!"
The drive home is filled with the imaginings of an overactive, creative (and co-codomol filled) mind. By the time I arrive, I've envisaged a full blown series of Prime Suspect being enacted in East London. As per instructions, I text J and J to reassure them that the axe-murderer of Bow hasn't hitched a lift in my car and chopped off my hand to add to the collection.
"Glad to hear it honey, I checked the hand on the way back - it was just a glove. Sleep well x"
Talk about anti-climax!
Wednesday, 3 March 2010
Happy Tears
Tears fall,
Tears pour,
Tears roll:
they won't stop!
I've done a lot of crying tonight - each tear holding a different emotion. The wall I've spent years building around myself has got cracks in it but I don't think it needs patching up anymore. The cracks can stay!
Sandcastles...
built high;
flags flying bravely.
Laughter in the bucket and
a spade full of giggles
Memories
washed by the sea
But not gone!
I have to thank a good friend who convinced me that writing about my mum could be a really positive thing. And what do you know - he was right! The next pint's on me!
Tears pour,
Tears roll:
they won't stop!
I've done a lot of crying tonight - each tear holding a different emotion. The wall I've spent years building around myself has got cracks in it but I don't think it needs patching up anymore. The cracks can stay!
Sandcastles...
built high;
flags flying bravely.
Laughter in the bucket and
a spade full of giggles
Memories
washed by the sea
But not gone!
I have to thank a good friend who convinced me that writing about my mum could be a really positive thing. And what do you know - he was right! The next pint's on me!
INSOMNIA - explained
It's Mother's Day in just over a week. The shops are dripping with cards, cuddly toys and present ideas. At school, the children are lovingly decorating cards with things they know their mummies will love. I smile brightly and tell them Mummy will LOVE it!
It's been 9 years since I bought my mum a card and wished her Happy Mothers Day. Just a few weeks later in 2001 she had gone.
In January 1996, I was in my final year at university. A 21 year old with her whole life ahead of her. Dreams, ambitions, aspirations, all there waiting to be explored. All in all my life was pretty damn peachy.
"I've found a lump in my breast" Mum told me. We were sat on the bed in mum and dad's room. "I have to have an operation in a couple of weeks. We didn't tell you sooner because we didn't want to spoil Christmas for you"
And that sums my mum up to a complete T. Selfless, always thinking of others, always worrying about how we would cope. During her 5 year battle with cancer she only cried infront of me once. And that was just before Mother's day in 2001. She cried because she didn't have the strength to get up the stairs anymore and it took us over an hour of bum shuffling, heaving and sheer will power to get her up the stairs and onto the bed. She cried because she hated having to ask me for help. But most of all she cried because she had cried infront of me! She hated that she couldn't protect me from what was happening.
And I cried with her, for all the birthdays she would miss, for the lost girly lunches and shopping days, for the future grandchildren who would never know the woman who would have made the most amazing grandmother. I cried because there was nothing I could do to help her. But most of all, I cried because I had cried infront of her!
I'll never forget the day she died. The time and place will be forever etched upon my memory, part of who I now am
I Wasn't There
Tired from waiting
tired from watching
tired from driving
tired from looking
Excuses, excuses!
I wasn't there
Gone for a rest,
to sleep for a while
While I was sleeping
You left, you're gone
Your life slipped away,
Your soul no more
I missed it! I missed it!
I wasn't there...
I'm sorry.
And that's why my insomnia won't go!
It's been 9 years since I bought my mum a card and wished her Happy Mothers Day. Just a few weeks later in 2001 she had gone.
In January 1996, I was in my final year at university. A 21 year old with her whole life ahead of her. Dreams, ambitions, aspirations, all there waiting to be explored. All in all my life was pretty damn peachy.
"I've found a lump in my breast" Mum told me. We were sat on the bed in mum and dad's room. "I have to have an operation in a couple of weeks. We didn't tell you sooner because we didn't want to spoil Christmas for you"
And that sums my mum up to a complete T. Selfless, always thinking of others, always worrying about how we would cope. During her 5 year battle with cancer she only cried infront of me once. And that was just before Mother's day in 2001. She cried because she didn't have the strength to get up the stairs anymore and it took us over an hour of bum shuffling, heaving and sheer will power to get her up the stairs and onto the bed. She cried because she hated having to ask me for help. But most of all she cried because she had cried infront of me! She hated that she couldn't protect me from what was happening.
And I cried with her, for all the birthdays she would miss, for the lost girly lunches and shopping days, for the future grandchildren who would never know the woman who would have made the most amazing grandmother. I cried because there was nothing I could do to help her. But most of all, I cried because I had cried infront of her!
I'll never forget the day she died. The time and place will be forever etched upon my memory, part of who I now am
I Wasn't There
Tired from waiting
tired from watching
tired from driving
tired from looking
Excuses, excuses!
I wasn't there
Gone for a rest,
to sleep for a while
While I was sleeping
You left, you're gone
Your life slipped away,
Your soul no more
I missed it! I missed it!
I wasn't there...
I'm sorry.
And that's why my insomnia won't go!
An Old Review brought upto date
THIS REVIEW WAS WRITTEN IN 2009, BEFORE LITTLE WING WERE ESTABLISHED AS A REGULAR FIXTURE IN THE PUBS OF SOUTHPORT, BEFORE THE ALBUM HAD BEEN RECORDED, BEFORE THEY HAD PLAYED WITH KAPPA AND WHEN EVERYONE CALLED THEM BABY BUT IT DIDN'T OCCUR TO THEM TO MIND! BUT IT IS PART OF THEIR HISTORY, IT RECORDS THAT TIME AND PLACE AND ALSO SHOWS HOW FAR THEY HAVE COME SINCE. SO SIT BACK AND TAKE A TRIP DOWN MEMORY LANE...
What do you do with yourself on a lazy, sunny, Sunday afternoon/evening? A solution to this age old question is get yourself to Fuegos in Stanley Street, Southport for an extraordinary evening of fine food and even finer music.
Fuegos is an authentic Mexican restaurant with some of the best food I have eaten (outside of Mexico). The ceilings are low, the flooring is wooden, the colours are rich and earthy and it feels just like a Canteena tucked down the side streets of Cuernavaca or Mexico City. However, my only criticism in the past has been the accompanying CD of Latino mix Coldplay on a loop. However those days have gone for good!
Instead, every last Sunday of the month, sees Fuegos hosting an acoustic night with two of Southport’s most talented musicians - Little Wing. Paul Mullen and Adrian Gautrey deliver a powerful, emotive and at times, haunting performance. They switch effortlessly from old to new, Country to Rock. Nothing fazes them. They appear to be so at ease with their instruments, they seem an extension of themselves. Several times, Adrian swapped between acoustic and electric, yet it took several bars to realise he had done so.
Although Paul and Adrian are a relatively new partnership, they are so tight it is truly magical to watch. Adrian's fingers being dubbed 'WD40' by one of the diners! They are so obviously in tune with the music, their instruments and each other there is something really quite mystical about watching the process before your eyes.
Fantastic tune followed fantastic tune as all the greats from a range of genres were delivered. It is hard to pick a highlight, but for me the raw emotion in the Ocean Colour Scene 'Robin Hood' was tangible. A packed restaurant of hungry diners were induced to ignore the fabulous food on offer to give full attention to a song that resonated off the wood and seemed to get under everyone's skin. The Cohen classic 'Hallelujah' runs a close second. Paul's previous attempt to sing this having been overshadowed by an overzealous audience member taking to the mic and refusing to relinquish it! No such issue tonight and verse after verse of this beautiful song washed over the receptive listeners. And of course, no set is complete without my all time favourite 'You do something to me' courtesy of Mr Paul Weller.
But the night was far from complete and with great anticipation the audience waited for some original material. They were not to be disappointed. Paul delivered a heartfelt performance of a song that he wrote ten years ago. Although he warned the audience that it 'isn't a barrel of laughs', when the lyrics are well written and the melody so engaging the content just carries you with it. Why this man has taken so long to perform his own material is beyond me. I hope this is the start of far more original material being included in future set lists.
As for Adrian, not only can this man swap effortlessly between electric and acoustic, he drops into harmonies as if it is second nature. He isn’t afraid to take on lead vocals and he was joined by his girlfriend, as they performed a truly beautiful and haunting version of Killing the Blues (Robert Plant and Alison Krauss). The air was electric and you could have heard a pin drop. Deserts and drinks lay untouched as the lyrics and the music did their magic.
We wait with great excitement as this duo head to the recording studio to capture some of their original material. I anticipate a rush when the CD's are finally ready. So much so, I've pre-ordered my copy!
So what do you do with yourself on a lazy, sunny, Sunday? Get yourself to Feugos.
AND THE GOOD NEWS IS, YOU STILL CAN! EVERY LAST SUNDAY OF THE MONTH. BE WARNED THOUGH, THERE'S A HARDCORE GROUP OF FANS WHO PRE-BOOK RELIGIOUSLY SO GET IN EARLY TO AVOID DISAPPOINTMENT! NEXT GIG MARCH 28TH AND IF YOU HAVEN'T ALREADY DONE SO, PICK UP A COPY OF THE ALBUM, YOU WON'T REGRET IT!
LITTLE WING HAVE CONTINUED THEIR MUSICAL JOURNEY WITH A BRILLIANT DEBUT ALBUM 'ALCHEMY IN THE GARDEN', THEY'VE PLAYED WITH KAPPA AND THERE ARE RUMOURS OF MORE MATERIAL AND MAYBE A SECOND TRIP TO THE RECORDING STUDIOS... WE WATCH AND WAIT...
What do you do with yourself on a lazy, sunny, Sunday afternoon/evening? A solution to this age old question is get yourself to Fuegos in Stanley Street, Southport for an extraordinary evening of fine food and even finer music.
Fuegos is an authentic Mexican restaurant with some of the best food I have eaten (outside of Mexico). The ceilings are low, the flooring is wooden, the colours are rich and earthy and it feels just like a Canteena tucked down the side streets of Cuernavaca or Mexico City. However, my only criticism in the past has been the accompanying CD of Latino mix Coldplay on a loop. However those days have gone for good!
Instead, every last Sunday of the month, sees Fuegos hosting an acoustic night with two of Southport’s most talented musicians - Little Wing. Paul Mullen and Adrian Gautrey deliver a powerful, emotive and at times, haunting performance. They switch effortlessly from old to new, Country to Rock. Nothing fazes them. They appear to be so at ease with their instruments, they seem an extension of themselves. Several times, Adrian swapped between acoustic and electric, yet it took several bars to realise he had done so.
Although Paul and Adrian are a relatively new partnership, they are so tight it is truly magical to watch. Adrian's fingers being dubbed 'WD40' by one of the diners! They are so obviously in tune with the music, their instruments and each other there is something really quite mystical about watching the process before your eyes.
Fantastic tune followed fantastic tune as all the greats from a range of genres were delivered. It is hard to pick a highlight, but for me the raw emotion in the Ocean Colour Scene 'Robin Hood' was tangible. A packed restaurant of hungry diners were induced to ignore the fabulous food on offer to give full attention to a song that resonated off the wood and seemed to get under everyone's skin. The Cohen classic 'Hallelujah' runs a close second. Paul's previous attempt to sing this having been overshadowed by an overzealous audience member taking to the mic and refusing to relinquish it! No such issue tonight and verse after verse of this beautiful song washed over the receptive listeners. And of course, no set is complete without my all time favourite 'You do something to me' courtesy of Mr Paul Weller.
But the night was far from complete and with great anticipation the audience waited for some original material. They were not to be disappointed. Paul delivered a heartfelt performance of a song that he wrote ten years ago. Although he warned the audience that it 'isn't a barrel of laughs', when the lyrics are well written and the melody so engaging the content just carries you with it. Why this man has taken so long to perform his own material is beyond me. I hope this is the start of far more original material being included in future set lists.
As for Adrian, not only can this man swap effortlessly between electric and acoustic, he drops into harmonies as if it is second nature. He isn’t afraid to take on lead vocals and he was joined by his girlfriend, as they performed a truly beautiful and haunting version of Killing the Blues (Robert Plant and Alison Krauss). The air was electric and you could have heard a pin drop. Deserts and drinks lay untouched as the lyrics and the music did their magic.
We wait with great excitement as this duo head to the recording studio to capture some of their original material. I anticipate a rush when the CD's are finally ready. So much so, I've pre-ordered my copy!
So what do you do with yourself on a lazy, sunny, Sunday? Get yourself to Feugos.
AND THE GOOD NEWS IS, YOU STILL CAN! EVERY LAST SUNDAY OF THE MONTH. BE WARNED THOUGH, THERE'S A HARDCORE GROUP OF FANS WHO PRE-BOOK RELIGIOUSLY SO GET IN EARLY TO AVOID DISAPPOINTMENT! NEXT GIG MARCH 28TH AND IF YOU HAVEN'T ALREADY DONE SO, PICK UP A COPY OF THE ALBUM, YOU WON'T REGRET IT!
LITTLE WING HAVE CONTINUED THEIR MUSICAL JOURNEY WITH A BRILLIANT DEBUT ALBUM 'ALCHEMY IN THE GARDEN', THEY'VE PLAYED WITH KAPPA AND THERE ARE RUMOURS OF MORE MATERIAL AND MAYBE A SECOND TRIP TO THE RECORDING STUDIOS... WE WATCH AND WAIT...
Monday, 1 March 2010
The Death of Real Music!
And now to my other obsession - music! Friends and family will vouch for the fact that music is as important as breathing, eating and laughing to me. I simply cannot be in my flat or car without it. Forget mirror, signal, manoeuvre, for me it's select, insert, play! As I type, my stereo is loaded with the Doors, ELO and Embrace, with The XX, The Who and Jewel lined up next. So you'd think I'd have an i-pod with the biggest memory going - not so! I don't even own a shuffle!
You see, for me, I love being able to BUY my music, you know, in a real shop! There is nothing better than taking home a bag full of CD's (I can never buy just one!), tearing off the cellophane and devouring the contents of the sleeve notes. I like to read the lyrics and little scribblings the bands have included. And as for the covers themselves, some of them are complete works of art. I'm fortunate enough to own the original artwork for Little Wing's debut album 'Alchemy in the Garden' and it is a stunning picture that takes pride of place in my flat. If the onslaught of downloading continues these sleeves are going to become rarer than a good song in the top 20!
So imagine my horror when I realised that two weeks ago saw the last publication of the Observer Music Monthly magazine. What???!!! How on earth can this be? This magazine was jam packed with interviews, reviews, upcoming gigs, special features and even free CD's on occasion. It was a magazine you could savour for weeks never mind just on a Sunday. It was responsible for me giving many a random album a fair listen. They really did cover a whole range of music that just wouldn't get column inches in mainstream, poppy publications. And without magazines like this, I really do worry for up and coming acts who want to show case their music without having to rely on a boy/girl band line up, Simon Cowell's backing or some spotty rapper with his trousers around his knees!
Just as I was getting over that shock, along came another bombshell...Abbey Road Studios is in danger. Surely this should be considered a National Treasure? Some of the best and most influential albums have been written there. One of them is even named after the studio itself for God's sake! That album cover is as iconically British as Big Ben, fish and chips and the Queen. Even Andrew Lloyd Webber and Terry Wogan have got in on the campaign to save it. Please, please whatever happens, let it stay as a recording studio. Even giving it to Louis Walsh would be preferable to a business man who turns it into flats. I can see the tag line now - "isn't it good, Norwegian Wood, your fitted kitchen made to order!" - it's too horrific to contemplate!
And then just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, another blow. 6Music, a radio show made for people who are interested in new, old, Indie, rock, and all genres that steer clear of mass produced plastic pop is no longer going to broadcast. Now, I hope someone is going to message me and tell me this isn't true...please...anyone?!
I fully admit I'm a technophobe and there are probably hundreds, even thousands of music lovers who just search the web for new and interesting stuff. But I like listening to the radio and happening upon a great new or old track. At the moment, Saturdays on Radio 2 are just musical heaven as far as I'm concerned. Sounds of the Sixties followed by Jonathan Ross then Dales Pick of the Pops and all topped off with Dermot O'Leary. I have purchased many fine albums having heard bands perform tracks on Jonathan and Dermot's shows. Bands that certainly wouldn't get airplay on Radio 1, Heart or Capital. And now it seems even my Saturday line up is doomed too. Wossy is off in the summer and with Chris Evans having his wrist slapped for not appealing to the older generation, I really do fear what will replace him.
Maybe I should apply for the job......
You see, for me, I love being able to BUY my music, you know, in a real shop! There is nothing better than taking home a bag full of CD's (I can never buy just one!), tearing off the cellophane and devouring the contents of the sleeve notes. I like to read the lyrics and little scribblings the bands have included. And as for the covers themselves, some of them are complete works of art. I'm fortunate enough to own the original artwork for Little Wing's debut album 'Alchemy in the Garden' and it is a stunning picture that takes pride of place in my flat. If the onslaught of downloading continues these sleeves are going to become rarer than a good song in the top 20!
So imagine my horror when I realised that two weeks ago saw the last publication of the Observer Music Monthly magazine. What???!!! How on earth can this be? This magazine was jam packed with interviews, reviews, upcoming gigs, special features and even free CD's on occasion. It was a magazine you could savour for weeks never mind just on a Sunday. It was responsible for me giving many a random album a fair listen. They really did cover a whole range of music that just wouldn't get column inches in mainstream, poppy publications. And without magazines like this, I really do worry for up and coming acts who want to show case their music without having to rely on a boy/girl band line up, Simon Cowell's backing or some spotty rapper with his trousers around his knees!
Just as I was getting over that shock, along came another bombshell...Abbey Road Studios is in danger. Surely this should be considered a National Treasure? Some of the best and most influential albums have been written there. One of them is even named after the studio itself for God's sake! That album cover is as iconically British as Big Ben, fish and chips and the Queen. Even Andrew Lloyd Webber and Terry Wogan have got in on the campaign to save it. Please, please whatever happens, let it stay as a recording studio. Even giving it to Louis Walsh would be preferable to a business man who turns it into flats. I can see the tag line now - "isn't it good, Norwegian Wood, your fitted kitchen made to order!" - it's too horrific to contemplate!
And then just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, another blow. 6Music, a radio show made for people who are interested in new, old, Indie, rock, and all genres that steer clear of mass produced plastic pop is no longer going to broadcast. Now, I hope someone is going to message me and tell me this isn't true...please...anyone?!
I fully admit I'm a technophobe and there are probably hundreds, even thousands of music lovers who just search the web for new and interesting stuff. But I like listening to the radio and happening upon a great new or old track. At the moment, Saturdays on Radio 2 are just musical heaven as far as I'm concerned. Sounds of the Sixties followed by Jonathan Ross then Dales Pick of the Pops and all topped off with Dermot O'Leary. I have purchased many fine albums having heard bands perform tracks on Jonathan and Dermot's shows. Bands that certainly wouldn't get airplay on Radio 1, Heart or Capital. And now it seems even my Saturday line up is doomed too. Wossy is off in the summer and with Chris Evans having his wrist slapped for not appealing to the older generation, I really do fear what will replace him.
Maybe I should apply for the job......
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