You don't blog, you miss dinner and you forget the deep humbling joy of England:
On the beach at Birling Gap, in the beer garden at Jevington, walking out of Sloane Square tube, (getting a cab & travelling on buses), peering out of low slung south coast bedsits, scrabbling for cigarettes, roaring on the Blues and missing your mates...
Thursday 22 October 2009
Wednesday 21 October 2009
Friday 4 September 2009
The Old Coffee House Book Club
Met on a daily basis
welcomed new and old faces
always plenty of spaces
a Beak St cultural oasis
welcomed new and old faces
always plenty of spaces
a Beak St cultural oasis
Poll Results - Jazz Funk Combos
1: Incognito
2: Southern Freeze
3: Light of the World
4: Beggar & Co.
Everybody screeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaammmmmm! Whoop Whoop
2: Southern Freeze
3: Light of the World
4: Beggar & Co.
Everybody screeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaammmmmm! Whoop Whoop
Tuesday 1 September 2009
The Wag Club - Jazz Rooms
Opposite The Blue Posts at the foot of Wardour Street. The Jazz Rooms at The Wag (Whiskey a Go-Go) every monday night, with Paul Murphy DJ'ing. We used to get the train up from the coast. Aided and abetted by Jack and Billy. We used to head into the heart of Soho, with one thing and one thing alone on our minds. Dancing!
Whether it was to Be Bop, Samba, Mambo, Swing, Lonnie Liston Smith, Art Blakey, John Coltrane or Milton Nascimento. The dancing was the thing! Suited and booted or hanging in Bretton, Hawaiian or Viyella shirts with big E Levi's and brogues. It was all about the dancing!
And when Murphy played the final tune we'd spin out of the door and stumble through the trash strewn streets back to Victoria, the milk train, Eastbourne and finally bed! Totally exhausted but totally free...
Whether it was to Be Bop, Samba, Mambo, Swing, Lonnie Liston Smith, Art Blakey, John Coltrane or Milton Nascimento. The dancing was the thing! Suited and booted or hanging in Bretton, Hawaiian or Viyella shirts with big E Levi's and brogues. It was all about the dancing!
And when Murphy played the final tune we'd spin out of the door and stumble through the trash strewn streets back to Victoria, the milk train, Eastbourne and finally bed! Totally exhausted but totally free...
Friday 28 August 2009
Jazz Funk & Soul Boys
Growing up on the South Coast in the early eighties the various youth tribes that fought for recognition were innumerable. Mods, Punks, Teds, Rockers, Soul Boys, Rockabilly's, Hep Catz, Jazzers, Betaniks, Skinheads, Suedeheads, Funketeers & even Heavy Metal. Most of the various groups would crossover at some stage.
The Soul Boys were always pretty cool with their fantastic wedge haircuts, kung fu shoes, slim belts and big baggy pegs. They also danced really well with some cool steps later borrowed by Be-Bop Boy, Mods and Katz alike.
The music (although sometimes inclined to border on ambling and tedious virtuosity) took the listener to new places; hard bop, samba, latin and of course Tha' Funk! Great days at Caister, London Zoo and even Eastbourne Pier.
Yowsa! Yowsa! Yowsa!
The Soul Boys were always pretty cool with their fantastic wedge haircuts, kung fu shoes, slim belts and big baggy pegs. They also danced really well with some cool steps later borrowed by Be-Bop Boy, Mods and Katz alike.
The music (although sometimes inclined to border on ambling and tedious virtuosity) took the listener to new places; hard bop, samba, latin and of course Tha' Funk! Great days at Caister, London Zoo and even Eastbourne Pier.
Yowsa! Yowsa! Yowsa!
Monday 24 August 2009
Ashes Victory Celebrations
Yesssss!!!!!!!!!!!
In the pubs and streets of South London, fuelled by joy, exhileration and a couple of rather pleasing bottles of crispy white wine. The celebrations went on, long into the night. E-mailing long lost Aussie buddies, texting 'til the network collapses.
And that was just in 2005! Sweet, wonderful and thoroughly deserved victory!
In the pubs and streets of South London, fuelled by joy, exhileration and a couple of rather pleasing bottles of crispy white wine. The celebrations went on, long into the night. E-mailing long lost Aussie buddies, texting 'til the network collapses.
Ricky Ponting, Dame Edna Everage, Kylie Minogue, Kevin Rudd, Nicole Kidman, Rolf Harris, Nick Cave, John Eales, Jono Coleman, Ned Kelly your boys took one helluva beating!!
And that was just in 2005! Sweet, wonderful and thoroughly deserved victory!
Thursday 20 August 2009
Carnaby Street
Not what it used to be
The Small Faces no longer run up exorbitant debts in Lord John's. The Jam no longer play opposite the Marlborough and you can no longer shop in the Carnaby Cavern for the finest red & black polka dot shirts this side of Regent Street.
The only thing left to marvel at are the massive snowmen that should have melted months ago.
The Small Faces no longer run up exorbitant debts in Lord John's. The Jam no longer play opposite the Marlborough and you can no longer shop in the Carnaby Cavern for the finest red & black polka dot shirts this side of Regent Street.
The only thing left to marvel at are the massive snowmen that should have melted months ago.
Wednesday 19 August 2009
Poll Results - Favourite Live venue
1. Medium sized venue
2. Festival
3. Sweaty Club
So, there you have it!
2. Festival
3. Sweaty Club
So, there you have it!
Tuesday 18 August 2009
CND Marches
Ambling through the streets of London urging 'Maggie, Maggie, maggie, Out! Out! Out! It was the sound of a gentle protest to a lilting reggae beat, the chance to marvel at the crusties and the hepcats getting together to protest at the prospect of being blown to kingdom come! Brockwell Park/Trafalgar Square. More booze, no Cruise!
Monday 17 August 2009
The Goose Steps Out
Set during World War II, The Goose Steps Out recounts the adventures of William Potts (Will Hay) after it is discovered that he is an exact double of a German spy who the British have just captured. Potts is flown into Nazi Germany to impersonate the spy and instructed to seek out and bring back details of a new German secret weapon.
On arrival, however, Potts is placed in charge of a group of apparently rabidly-fascist young students who are being trained to work as spies in England. Potts attempts to undermine this by convincing the youngsters that the proper British way of saluting a great leader is to apply the V-sign, which they therefore do repeatedly and enthusiastically in the direction of a portrait of the Führer. At a function where he hopes to gather information about the weapon (a gasfire bomb), Potts succeeds only in getting blind drunk and admitting that he is a British agent. Luckily, his class of Nazi youths turn out to be sympathetic Austrians and they help him obtain the secret he seeks. Potts and his new friends eventually commandeer a plane and fly back to England, crashing in a tree outside the War Office in London.
On arrival, however, Potts is placed in charge of a group of apparently rabidly-fascist young students who are being trained to work as spies in England. Potts attempts to undermine this by convincing the youngsters that the proper British way of saluting a great leader is to apply the V-sign, which they therefore do repeatedly and enthusiastically in the direction of a portrait of the Führer. At a function where he hopes to gather information about the weapon (a gasfire bomb), Potts succeeds only in getting blind drunk and admitting that he is a British agent. Luckily, his class of Nazi youths turn out to be sympathetic Austrians and they help him obtain the secret he seeks. Potts and his new friends eventually commandeer a plane and fly back to England, crashing in a tree outside the War Office in London.
Friday 14 August 2009
Passport to Pimlico
Blimey, I'm a foreigner.
A bomb left over from the Second World War blows up in Miramont Gardens in the Pimlico district of London after some local children roll a tractor tyre down a hole. The explosion reveals a buried cellar from the manor house that gave Miramont Gardens its name, in which artwork, coins, jewellery and an ancient parchment document are found. Professor Hatton-Jones (Margaret Rutherford) authenticates it as a royal charter of Edward IV that ceded the house its estates to Charles VII ("the Rash"), the last Duke of Burgundy, when he sought refuge there several centuries ago after being presumed dead at the Battle of Nancy. As the charter had never been revoked, Pimlico is legally part of Burgundy. Local policeman P.C. Spiller (Philip Stainton) observes, "Blimey! I'm a foreigner!"
The British government has no legal jurisdiction and requires the Burgundians to form a committee according to the laws of the long-defunct dukedom before negotiating with them. Ancient Burgundian law requires that the Duke himself appoint a council. Without one, all seems lost - until a young man from Dijon (Paul Dupuis) steps forward and proves that he is the heir to the dukedom. He duly forms a governing body; one of its members is the shrewd shopkeeper Arthur Pemberton (Stanley Holloway).
Very quickly, Burgundy (followed soon after by the rest of London) realises that it is not subject to post-war rationing and other bureaucratic restrictions, and the district is quickly flooded with entrepreneurs, crooks and eager shoppers. A noisy free-for-all ensues, which Spiller, the Chief (and only) Constable of Burgundy, finds himself unable to handle. Then the British authorities close the "border" with barbed wire. Having left England without their passports, the bargain hunters have trouble returning home - as one policeman replies to an indignant woman, "Don't blame me Madam, if you choose to go abroad to do your shopping."
The Burgundians decide that two can play this game and stop an underground train dead in its tracks. "The train is now at the Burgundy frontier." explains an agent of the newly formed customs and excise department. They proceed to ask the passengers if they have anything to declare.
The infuriated British government retaliates by breaking off negotiations. Burgundy is isolated, like post-war Berlin, and the residents are invited to "immigrate" to England. But the Burgundians are "a fighting people" and, though the children are evacuated, the adults stand fast. As Mrs. Pemberton (Betty Warren) puts it, "We've always been English and we'll always be English; and it's precisely because we are English that we're sticking up for our right to be Burgundians!"
Pimlico is cut off from electricity, food and water (though there's plenty of gin and crisps). The water problem is solved by a covert raid late one night, refilling the reservoir with hoses attached to the nearest fire hydrant on the British side of the border. Unfortunately, the food supply is spoiled when the cellar where it is being stored becomes flooded, and it appears that the Burgundians are beaten. Just in time, three Burgundian youngsters learn about this crisis and toss food across the border, setting an example for sympathetic Londoners; they begin throwing food parcels across the barrier in an improvised "airlift", echoing the one that ended the Berlin Blockade. Soon, others get into the act. A helicopter drops a hose to deliver milk. Even swine are parachuted in (possibly a reference to the expression "when pigs fly").
Meanwhile, the government comes under public pressure to resolve the problem. It becomes clear to the bumbling British diplomats assigned to find a solution, Gregg (Basil Radford) and Straker (Naunton Wayne) (Better known as cricket loving Charters & Caldicott), that defeating the Burgundians would be no easy task, so they decide to negotiate. The sticking point turns out to be the disposition of the unearthed treasure. At last, the local banker (Raymond Huntley) hits upon a novel solution: "A Burgundian loan to Britain!"
With negotiations successfully concluded, an outdoor banquet is prepared to welcome Burgundy back into the fold. Just as Big Ben strikes the hour of reunification, the Burgundians realise they truly are back in England, when the clouds part after a loud clap of thunder, and the heat wave is brought to a swift end by a torrential downpour, sending everyone scurrying for cover.
Quotes
Connie Pemberton:
A bomb left over from the Second World War blows up in Miramont Gardens in the Pimlico district of London after some local children roll a tractor tyre down a hole. The explosion reveals a buried cellar from the manor house that gave Miramont Gardens its name, in which artwork, coins, jewellery and an ancient parchment document are found. Professor Hatton-Jones (Margaret Rutherford) authenticates it as a royal charter of Edward IV that ceded the house its estates to Charles VII ("the Rash"), the last Duke of Burgundy, when he sought refuge there several centuries ago after being presumed dead at the Battle of Nancy. As the charter had never been revoked, Pimlico is legally part of Burgundy. Local policeman P.C. Spiller (Philip Stainton) observes, "Blimey! I'm a foreigner!"
The British government has no legal jurisdiction and requires the Burgundians to form a committee according to the laws of the long-defunct dukedom before negotiating with them. Ancient Burgundian law requires that the Duke himself appoint a council. Without one, all seems lost - until a young man from Dijon (Paul Dupuis) steps forward and proves that he is the heir to the dukedom. He duly forms a governing body; one of its members is the shrewd shopkeeper Arthur Pemberton (Stanley Holloway).
Very quickly, Burgundy (followed soon after by the rest of London) realises that it is not subject to post-war rationing and other bureaucratic restrictions, and the district is quickly flooded with entrepreneurs, crooks and eager shoppers. A noisy free-for-all ensues, which Spiller, the Chief (and only) Constable of Burgundy, finds himself unable to handle. Then the British authorities close the "border" with barbed wire. Having left England without their passports, the bargain hunters have trouble returning home - as one policeman replies to an indignant woman, "Don't blame me Madam, if you choose to go abroad to do your shopping."
The Burgundians decide that two can play this game and stop an underground train dead in its tracks. "The train is now at the Burgundy frontier." explains an agent of the newly formed customs and excise department. They proceed to ask the passengers if they have anything to declare.
The infuriated British government retaliates by breaking off negotiations. Burgundy is isolated, like post-war Berlin, and the residents are invited to "immigrate" to England. But the Burgundians are "a fighting people" and, though the children are evacuated, the adults stand fast. As Mrs. Pemberton (Betty Warren) puts it, "We've always been English and we'll always be English; and it's precisely because we are English that we're sticking up for our right to be Burgundians!"
Pimlico is cut off from electricity, food and water (though there's plenty of gin and crisps). The water problem is solved by a covert raid late one night, refilling the reservoir with hoses attached to the nearest fire hydrant on the British side of the border. Unfortunately, the food supply is spoiled when the cellar where it is being stored becomes flooded, and it appears that the Burgundians are beaten. Just in time, three Burgundian youngsters learn about this crisis and toss food across the border, setting an example for sympathetic Londoners; they begin throwing food parcels across the barrier in an improvised "airlift", echoing the one that ended the Berlin Blockade. Soon, others get into the act. A helicopter drops a hose to deliver milk. Even swine are parachuted in (possibly a reference to the expression "when pigs fly").
Meanwhile, the government comes under public pressure to resolve the problem. It becomes clear to the bumbling British diplomats assigned to find a solution, Gregg (Basil Radford) and Straker (Naunton Wayne) (Better known as cricket loving Charters & Caldicott), that defeating the Burgundians would be no easy task, so they decide to negotiate. The sticking point turns out to be the disposition of the unearthed treasure. At last, the local banker (Raymond Huntley) hits upon a novel solution: "A Burgundian loan to Britain!"
With negotiations successfully concluded, an outdoor banquet is prepared to welcome Burgundy back into the fold. Just as Big Ben strikes the hour of reunification, the Burgundians realise they truly are back in England, when the clouds part after a loud clap of thunder, and the heat wave is brought to a swift end by a torrential downpour, sending everyone scurrying for cover.
Quotes
Connie Pemberton:
We always were English and we'll always be English, and it's precisely because we are English that we're sticking up for our right to be Burgundians!
Wednesday 12 August 2009
50 gigs...
The rules. List the first 50 acts that come into your head. An act you saw at a festival and opening acts count, but only if you can't think of 50 other artists. Oh, and you must include the first gig you ever saw...
1. The Jam – Winter gardens Eastbourne 1977. About 50 people there. Have subsequently met about 1000 who said they were.
2. Bob Marley & the Wailers – Brighton Conference Centre. Overwhelming smell of… something herbal.
3. Nick Cave & Bad Seeds – Brixton Academy 2004. The preacher man was in town and the girl next to me tried to kiss me.
4. A Certain Ratio – 2nd Womad. The birth of the Barmy Army ACR army and trying to instigate the ‘Dashing White Sergeant’ as a new dance move.
5. Slim Gaillard – The Wag Club, my best man ended up on stage singing the encore with him.
6. Weekend – The Escape Club, Brighton. Alison Statton very shy and Simon Booth’s big orange Gretsch.
7. New Order – The Basement, Brighton. One of their earliest gigs. Lots of very long coats and even longer stares.
8. Orange Juice – Victoria. Edwyn Collins in lovely checked shirt absolutely mangled ‘In a nutshell’.
9. The Fall – 2nd Womad. MES on stage at lunchtime, stopped ‘Gut of the Quantifier’ three times to berate the drummer.
10. Toumani Diabate – Sydney Opera House 2009. I didn’t know he had had polio as a kid until I saw his bright green walking stick. I also didn’t know music could be so sublime.
11. 23 Skiddoo – 1st Womad. In the Balinese/Gamelan tent playing an impromptu gig, moving away from the funk.
12. The Clash – Hastings Pier 1978. The opening rush of the band to the front of the stage for ‘Safe European Homes’ made the whole audience take a step back.
13. Siouxsie & the Banshees – Hastings Pier 1977. Pre-split, searing guitar, scary lady!
14. Gang of Four – Barbican 2006. A vibrant run through of ‘Entertainment’ although sounded a lot like the Red Hot Chilli Peppers at one stage (oh the irony!)
15. Madness – Luna Park, Sydney 2009 One step Beyond… cue 3,000 poms about to go mental
16. The Who – Wembley Stadium 1979. Look at those old blokes on stage. F’in hippies.
17. The Birthday Party – The Richmond, Brighton. I don’t think that band like us!
18. John Cooper Clarke, The Basement, Sydney 2007. Kept his poetry in a Tesco carrier bag.
19. Beggar – The Archery, Eastbourne. A welsh mod band. They went round all the various pubs in Eastbourne to drum up support. We all then walked to The Archery, raucous set and 6 pints of Harveys equalled a very good night.
20. Teardrop Explodes – Jenkinsons, Brighton. Met Julian Cope in toilets, eyes like saucepan lids and flight jacket on, the true Copey experience.
21. Scritti Politti – The Tate Gallery Garden 2006. Stage front, having lugged cricket gear up from Brighton and blagged way into VIP area. Nicked one of Green’s plectrums.
22. Arctic Monkeys – Hordern Pavillion, Sydney 2009. Worryingly rockist tendencies beginning to emerge from Sheffield’s finest.
23. The Beat - 1st Womad. A brilliant sunshine music gig. Having previously spent the day playing football with Dave Wakeling, Ranking Roger and the Drummers from Burundi (Tip: When playing the D from B, keep it on the deck!).
24. Paul Weller – BBC Theatre at Broadcasting House. Gary Crowley in the audience. Paulo Hewitt too (ahh, those were the days)
25. The Hip Troop – Diplocks, Eastbourne 1983. A punk version of Boyhood sent the punters home happy.
26. Echo & the Bunnymen – Top Rank, Brighton 1982. Drummer Pete DeFreitas was at front of stage left. Only time I’ve ever seen that.
27. Sade – Heaven 1984. The trendiest gig ever, also one of the worst musically.
28. Animal Nightlife – Cinema, Brixton 80’s. Likewise trendy mo-fo’s everywhere, music better though Andy Polaris (real name?) couldn’t sing for a toffee!
29. Trouble Funk – Leadmill, Sheffield 80’s. Went up from South Coast with Tom and the South East Krew dropped the bomb!
30. Marcus Valle – Sydney Opera House 2008. Sweet Samba sounds. MV dressed in true beach bum style.
31. Gary Glitter – De la Warr Gardens, Bexhill 1973. Only saw him play three songs then had to get train home.
32. Supergrass – Paris 2004. Went by myself, drank loads, chatted to a girl from Normandy, very pleasant evening.
33. The Prisoners – Town & Country Club 2002. A reunion gig for the Medways modsters. Much fun had by all.
34. Aztec Camera – The Escape Club, Brighton early 80’s. ‘The Boy Wonders’ dedicated to ‘The Eastbourne Boys’.
35. The Pop Group – CND March, Trafalgar Square 1980. Jerusalem echoing out around the Square and cans upon cans of Tiger Beer.
36. Madonna – Wembley, early 90’s. An absolute nightmare.
37. Rod Stewart - Wembley, early 90’s. Even worse.
38. Prince – Earls Court, early 90’s. Arrived late, left early, marriage very nearly didn’t happen.
39. Rip, Rig & Panic - Sussex University 1984. Man those cats were crazy, all very loose limbed. Mark Springer was magnificent.
40. The Specials – Top Rank, Brighton 1980. A real sense of menace filled the venue, amazing gig, pleased to get out alive!
41. The Slits – The Celtic Club, Sydney 2008. Ari Up prancing around in multi-coloured lycra. All very sad and disappointing.
42. Dexy’s Midnight Runners – Royal Festival Hall, London 2005. A reunion gig, still in fine voice but decidedly camp mini theatrics mid-set recalled dubious dress appearance at Reading.
43. Pet Shop Boys – V Festival, Sydney 2008. Chris Lowe ‘singing’ Paninaro and a big heffelump of an Aussie woman breaking my big toe.
44. Teenbeats – Hastings Pier 1979. Sleeping underneath Hastings Pier after gig.
45. Graham Coxon – HMV, Oxford Street 2006. Found a copy of ‘Democrazy’ the Damon Albarn rare solo album in the racks. Coxon looked cool.
46. Geno Washington – Colne Community Centre, Lancashire 2004. The most pitiful sight possible. Geno and a heavy metal guitarist covering his classics.
47. Bob Dylan – Sydney Entertainment Centre 2008. Despite only being able to see Dylan’s back hunched over keyboards for the whole of the gig. He was actually quite good.
48. Roddy Frame – University College, London 2006. So pissed I couldn’t even sit up straight, very embarrassing.
49. The Freds – Manly Aquarium 2009. The fish racing round the tanks first clockwise and then on some silent signal, anti-clockwise.
50. The Smiths – Sussex University 1984. Gladioli everywhere, Johnny Marr officially the coolest man on earth. Nearly missed last train.
1. The Jam – Winter gardens Eastbourne 1977. About 50 people there. Have subsequently met about 1000 who said they were.
2. Bob Marley & the Wailers – Brighton Conference Centre. Overwhelming smell of… something herbal.
3. Nick Cave & Bad Seeds – Brixton Academy 2004. The preacher man was in town and the girl next to me tried to kiss me.
4. A Certain Ratio – 2nd Womad. The birth of the Barmy Army ACR army and trying to instigate the ‘Dashing White Sergeant’ as a new dance move.
5. Slim Gaillard – The Wag Club, my best man ended up on stage singing the encore with him.
6. Weekend – The Escape Club, Brighton. Alison Statton very shy and Simon Booth’s big orange Gretsch.
7. New Order – The Basement, Brighton. One of their earliest gigs. Lots of very long coats and even longer stares.
8. Orange Juice – Victoria. Edwyn Collins in lovely checked shirt absolutely mangled ‘In a nutshell’.
9. The Fall – 2nd Womad. MES on stage at lunchtime, stopped ‘Gut of the Quantifier’ three times to berate the drummer.
10. Toumani Diabate – Sydney Opera House 2009. I didn’t know he had had polio as a kid until I saw his bright green walking stick. I also didn’t know music could be so sublime.
11. 23 Skiddoo – 1st Womad. In the Balinese/Gamelan tent playing an impromptu gig, moving away from the funk.
12. The Clash – Hastings Pier 1978. The opening rush of the band to the front of the stage for ‘Safe European Homes’ made the whole audience take a step back.
13. Siouxsie & the Banshees – Hastings Pier 1977. Pre-split, searing guitar, scary lady!
14. Gang of Four – Barbican 2006. A vibrant run through of ‘Entertainment’ although sounded a lot like the Red Hot Chilli Peppers at one stage (oh the irony!)
15. Madness – Luna Park, Sydney 2009 One step Beyond… cue 3,000 poms about to go mental
16. The Who – Wembley Stadium 1979. Look at those old blokes on stage. F’in hippies.
17. The Birthday Party – The Richmond, Brighton. I don’t think that band like us!
18. John Cooper Clarke, The Basement, Sydney 2007. Kept his poetry in a Tesco carrier bag.
19. Beggar – The Archery, Eastbourne. A welsh mod band. They went round all the various pubs in Eastbourne to drum up support. We all then walked to The Archery, raucous set and 6 pints of Harveys equalled a very good night.
20. Teardrop Explodes – Jenkinsons, Brighton. Met Julian Cope in toilets, eyes like saucepan lids and flight jacket on, the true Copey experience.
21. Scritti Politti – The Tate Gallery Garden 2006. Stage front, having lugged cricket gear up from Brighton and blagged way into VIP area. Nicked one of Green’s plectrums.
22. Arctic Monkeys – Hordern Pavillion, Sydney 2009. Worryingly rockist tendencies beginning to emerge from Sheffield’s finest.
23. The Beat - 1st Womad. A brilliant sunshine music gig. Having previously spent the day playing football with Dave Wakeling, Ranking Roger and the Drummers from Burundi (Tip: When playing the D from B, keep it on the deck!).
24. Paul Weller – BBC Theatre at Broadcasting House. Gary Crowley in the audience. Paulo Hewitt too (ahh, those were the days)
25. The Hip Troop – Diplocks, Eastbourne 1983. A punk version of Boyhood sent the punters home happy.
26. Echo & the Bunnymen – Top Rank, Brighton 1982. Drummer Pete DeFreitas was at front of stage left. Only time I’ve ever seen that.
27. Sade – Heaven 1984. The trendiest gig ever, also one of the worst musically.
28. Animal Nightlife – Cinema, Brixton 80’s. Likewise trendy mo-fo’s everywhere, music better though Andy Polaris (real name?) couldn’t sing for a toffee!
29. Trouble Funk – Leadmill, Sheffield 80’s. Went up from South Coast with Tom and the South East Krew dropped the bomb!
30. Marcus Valle – Sydney Opera House 2008. Sweet Samba sounds. MV dressed in true beach bum style.
31. Gary Glitter – De la Warr Gardens, Bexhill 1973. Only saw him play three songs then had to get train home.
32. Supergrass – Paris 2004. Went by myself, drank loads, chatted to a girl from Normandy, very pleasant evening.
33. The Prisoners – Town & Country Club 2002. A reunion gig for the Medways modsters. Much fun had by all.
34. Aztec Camera – The Escape Club, Brighton early 80’s. ‘The Boy Wonders’ dedicated to ‘The Eastbourne Boys’.
35. The Pop Group – CND March, Trafalgar Square 1980. Jerusalem echoing out around the Square and cans upon cans of Tiger Beer.
36. Madonna – Wembley, early 90’s. An absolute nightmare.
37. Rod Stewart - Wembley, early 90’s. Even worse.
38. Prince – Earls Court, early 90’s. Arrived late, left early, marriage very nearly didn’t happen.
39. Rip, Rig & Panic - Sussex University 1984. Man those cats were crazy, all very loose limbed. Mark Springer was magnificent.
40. The Specials – Top Rank, Brighton 1980. A real sense of menace filled the venue, amazing gig, pleased to get out alive!
41. The Slits – The Celtic Club, Sydney 2008. Ari Up prancing around in multi-coloured lycra. All very sad and disappointing.
42. Dexy’s Midnight Runners – Royal Festival Hall, London 2005. A reunion gig, still in fine voice but decidedly camp mini theatrics mid-set recalled dubious dress appearance at Reading.
43. Pet Shop Boys – V Festival, Sydney 2008. Chris Lowe ‘singing’ Paninaro and a big heffelump of an Aussie woman breaking my big toe.
44. Teenbeats – Hastings Pier 1979. Sleeping underneath Hastings Pier after gig.
45. Graham Coxon – HMV, Oxford Street 2006. Found a copy of ‘Democrazy’ the Damon Albarn rare solo album in the racks. Coxon looked cool.
46. Geno Washington – Colne Community Centre, Lancashire 2004. The most pitiful sight possible. Geno and a heavy metal guitarist covering his classics.
47. Bob Dylan – Sydney Entertainment Centre 2008. Despite only being able to see Dylan’s back hunched over keyboards for the whole of the gig. He was actually quite good.
48. Roddy Frame – University College, London 2006. So pissed I couldn’t even sit up straight, very embarrassing.
49. The Freds – Manly Aquarium 2009. The fish racing round the tanks first clockwise and then on some silent signal, anti-clockwise.
50. The Smiths – Sussex University 1984. Gladioli everywhere, Johnny Marr officially the coolest man on earth. Nearly missed last train.
Tuesday 11 August 2009
Wednesday 5 August 2009
Newhaven Ferry
Slow, lumbering, smelly, floor awash with vomit and beer. The Newhaven ferry to Dieppe, left at 10 am & 10 pm every day. A cantankerous crew, irritated truckers (all that Sulphate would keep them buzzing ‘round the deck for the length of the four hour journey), school trips (on the morning run), cheapskate Eurorailers (in the evening) and a clutch of low-fi hipsters heading for Dieppe and then the bright lights of Montmatre.
We used to take the night trip more often than not (10 quid cheaper). Fuelled on cheap lager, we’d get the train via Lewes and manage to slink on board about 10 minutes before departure. Although one particularly snowbound journey led to a 12 hour wait in ‘The Last Pub in England’. Plenty of opportunity to spend all remaining holiday money on toasted cheese sandwiches.
The rusting, lilting Transmanche ferries, take ages to do anything – not least open up the bars. A couple of lagers and only a bloody Toblerone to keep us company as we ease out of the alternative ‘gateway to the South’, so farewell to the fort, the River Ouse and Seven Sisters… Onwards, rolling onwards to France, Europe, the World!
When we finally got to the other side, tired, wet, cold and not a tad seasick. We’d be herded onto the docks and onto the trains (snatched memories of different mpre sinister circumstances) and then head off for Paris. All the while very conscious of the lingering smell of Newhaven – vomit & beer!
We used to take the night trip more often than not (10 quid cheaper). Fuelled on cheap lager, we’d get the train via Lewes and manage to slink on board about 10 minutes before departure. Although one particularly snowbound journey led to a 12 hour wait in ‘The Last Pub in England’. Plenty of opportunity to spend all remaining holiday money on toasted cheese sandwiches.
The rusting, lilting Transmanche ferries, take ages to do anything – not least open up the bars. A couple of lagers and only a bloody Toblerone to keep us company as we ease out of the alternative ‘gateway to the South’, so farewell to the fort, the River Ouse and Seven Sisters… Onwards, rolling onwards to France, Europe, the World!
When we finally got to the other side, tired, wet, cold and not a tad seasick. We’d be herded onto the docks and onto the trains (snatched memories of different mpre sinister circumstances) and then head off for Paris. All the while very conscious of the lingering smell of Newhaven – vomit & beer!
Monday 3 August 2009
The Art of being an English Gentleman (Part 6)
Wake up early in a large four poster bed with a flighty young poppet called Caresse curled up at my feet. Lean over the prone form of a gorgeous young red head (name not given) and neck vast goblet of Vodka Champagne from previous night.
The tattoo on my chest reminds me where, when and with whom I should be. Ease out of sheets, pad to chair, pop on finest tweeds, subtle checked shirt and finest stout brogues. Kiss both lovelies on nape, gun another Vodka Champagne and head out into the dawn. Drive like the wind. Get home late, slip into empty bed, nurse a slight hangover and a serious drink. Go to sleep drunk...
The tattoo on my chest reminds me where, when and with whom I should be. Ease out of sheets, pad to chair, pop on finest tweeds, subtle checked shirt and finest stout brogues. Kiss both lovelies on nape, gun another Vodka Champagne and head out into the dawn. Drive like the wind. Get home late, slip into empty bed, nurse a slight hangover and a serious drink. Go to sleep drunk...
Tate Modern
A pile of bricks, a bastardised tube map, an expensive members bar, a view over the river to St Pauls Cathedral.
Love it!
Love it!
Jerusalem by William Blake
And did those feet in ancient time
Walk upon England's mountains green?
And was the holy Lamb of God
On England's pleasant pastures seen?
And did the Countenance Divine
Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
And was Jerusalem builded here
Among these dark Satanic mills?
Bring me my bow of burning gold:
Bring me my arrows of desire:
Bring me my spear: O clouds unfold!
Bring me my chariot of fire.
I will not cease from mental fight,
Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand
Till we have built Jerusalem
In England's green and pleasant land.
Walk upon England's mountains green?
And was the holy Lamb of God
On England's pleasant pastures seen?
And did the Countenance Divine
Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
And was Jerusalem builded here
Among these dark Satanic mills?
Bring me my bow of burning gold:
Bring me my arrows of desire:
Bring me my spear: O clouds unfold!
Bring me my chariot of fire.
I will not cease from mental fight,
Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand
Till we have built Jerusalem
In England's green and pleasant land.
Thursday 30 July 2009
20 overs in the last hour
Standing at mid-off at the Saffrons, watching the town hall clock edge round to half past six. A squadron of Housemartins flit off over Larkins and the umpries confer. 20 overs in the last hour. A 100 runs required and five wickets spare. The game picks up pace, the last four and a half hours have all been geared towards this point. The out batsmen are already leaning gently into a lager top, the bowlers are trying to find a pair of pads to borrow and I'm standing at mid-off trying to catch the captain's eye. Whispering loudly, "Bring me on from the sea end skip and I'll wrap this up before seven".
Down to the final two overs 19 runs needed. Spread the field out, but keep them down to a single. Locko from the Larkins end and Beazles from the sea. The croquet match has finished and the bar is filling up. One over to go 10 to win, 2 wickets to go and the clock says twenty to eight...
2 balls, 4 runs and a wicket to go. Standing under an absolute steepler down at deep long on. You wouldn't want to change a single moment of this for the whole of the big wide world.
Wazthat? You absolute beauty!
Down to the final two overs 19 runs needed. Spread the field out, but keep them down to a single. Locko from the Larkins end and Beazles from the sea. The croquet match has finished and the bar is filling up. One over to go 10 to win, 2 wickets to go and the clock says twenty to eight...
2 balls, 4 runs and a wicket to go. Standing under an absolute steepler down at deep long on. You wouldn't want to change a single moment of this for the whole of the big wide world.
Wazthat? You absolute beauty!
Wednesday 29 July 2009
Trebetherick
A few gentle words from Sir Johnny B
We used to picnic where the thrift
Grew deep and tufted to the edge;
We saw the yellow foam flakes drift
In trembling sponges on the ledge
Below us, till the wind would lift
Them up the cliff and o’er the hedge.
Sand in the sandwiches, wasps in the tea,
Sun on our bathing dresses heavy with the wet,
Squelch of the bladder-wrack waiting for the sea,
Fleas around the tamarisk, an early cigarette.
From where the coastguard houses stood
One used to see below the hill,
The lichened branches of a wood
In summer silver cool and still;
And there the Shade of Evil could
Stretch out at us from Shilla Mill.
Thick with sloe and blackberry, uneven in the light,
Lonely round the hedge, the heavy meadow was remote,
The oldest part of Cornwall was the wood as black as night,
And the pheasant and the rabbit lay torn open at the throat.
But when a storm was at its height,
And feathery slate was black in rain,
And tamarisks were hung with light
And golden sand was brown again,
Spring tide and blizzard would unite
And sea come flooding up the lane.
Waves full of treasure then were roaring up the beach,
Ropes round our mackintoshes, waders warm and dry,
We waited for the wreckage to come swirling into reach,
Ralph, Vasey, Alistair, Biddy, John and I.
Then roller into roller curled
And thundered down the rocky bay,
And we were in a water world
Of rain and blizzard, sea and spray,
And one against the other hurled
We struggled round to Greenaway.
Blesséd be St Enodoc, blesséd be the wave,
Blesséd be the springy turf, we pray, pray to thee,
Ask for our children all happy days you gave
To Ralph, Vasey, Alistair, Biddy, John and me.
John Betjeman
We used to picnic where the thrift
Grew deep and tufted to the edge;
We saw the yellow foam flakes drift
In trembling sponges on the ledge
Below us, till the wind would lift
Them up the cliff and o’er the hedge.
Sand in the sandwiches, wasps in the tea,
Sun on our bathing dresses heavy with the wet,
Squelch of the bladder-wrack waiting for the sea,
Fleas around the tamarisk, an early cigarette.
From where the coastguard houses stood
One used to see below the hill,
The lichened branches of a wood
In summer silver cool and still;
And there the Shade of Evil could
Stretch out at us from Shilla Mill.
Thick with sloe and blackberry, uneven in the light,
Lonely round the hedge, the heavy meadow was remote,
The oldest part of Cornwall was the wood as black as night,
And the pheasant and the rabbit lay torn open at the throat.
But when a storm was at its height,
And feathery slate was black in rain,
And tamarisks were hung with light
And golden sand was brown again,
Spring tide and blizzard would unite
And sea come flooding up the lane.
Waves full of treasure then were roaring up the beach,
Ropes round our mackintoshes, waders warm and dry,
We waited for the wreckage to come swirling into reach,
Ralph, Vasey, Alistair, Biddy, John and I.
Then roller into roller curled
And thundered down the rocky bay,
And we were in a water world
Of rain and blizzard, sea and spray,
And one against the other hurled
We struggled round to Greenaway.
Blesséd be St Enodoc, blesséd be the wave,
Blesséd be the springy turf, we pray, pray to thee,
Ask for our children all happy days you gave
To Ralph, Vasey, Alistair, Biddy, John and me.
John Betjeman
Monday 27 July 2009
Office romances
In my first job in local government, barely a day would pass without some sort of outbreak of intrigue, argument, emotional bust up or general flirting. The office was the hotbed of frustrated love, volcanic lust, seething jealousy and unguarded emotion.
Nowadays it is just a hollow shell.
Nowadays it is just a hollow shell.
Tuesday 21 July 2009
Hangovers
They come in all different shapes and sizes of course but here are a few I have very fond memories of (?)
The jet lag hangover - Having stepped off the flight from Sydney after a fair few sparkling whites and pale Chardonnays. The slowness of reaction and gentle numbness of the brain brings me face to face with the everyday reality of being a high street bank employee or a local councillor.
The surprise hangover - I only had two pints of Stella Artois last night. Oh and half a bottle of Jamesons. Oh and a bottle of Pouilly Fume.
The early evening hangover - When lunchtime drinking becomes an unshakeable throbbing by the time I've got home.
The not really hungover hangover - A big one, late to bed, wake up early for work, feel good. Feel really good, feel absolutely tip-top chipper, feel like singing 'Boogie Wonderland' on my way to the tube. This is a clear sign that only 4 rounds of toast and two cans of coke and very large cappuccino will help offset the impending hangover from hell.
The I'll never drink again hangover - !!!
The if I just have a quick couple of pints, I'll be alright hangover - Delaying the inevitable I know. But sometimes, just sometimes it really does work!
The jet lag hangover - Having stepped off the flight from Sydney after a fair few sparkling whites and pale Chardonnays. The slowness of reaction and gentle numbness of the brain brings me face to face with the everyday reality of being a high street bank employee or a local councillor.
The surprise hangover - I only had two pints of Stella Artois last night. Oh and half a bottle of Jamesons. Oh and a bottle of Pouilly Fume.
The early evening hangover - When lunchtime drinking becomes an unshakeable throbbing by the time I've got home.
The not really hungover hangover - A big one, late to bed, wake up early for work, feel good. Feel really good, feel absolutely tip-top chipper, feel like singing 'Boogie Wonderland' on my way to the tube. This is a clear sign that only 4 rounds of toast and two cans of coke and very large cappuccino will help offset the impending hangover from hell.
The I'll never drink again hangover - !!!
The if I just have a quick couple of pints, I'll be alright hangover - Delaying the inevitable I know. But sometimes, just sometimes it really does work!
Poll Results - Sunny Day
You would prefer to spend a beautiful English Summers Day
In a park (66%)
On the beach (33%)
In the pub (0%)
In bed (0%)
Which comes as a bit of a surprise. You quaint old things you...
In a park (66%)
On the beach (33%)
In the pub (0%)
In bed (0%)
Which comes as a bit of a surprise. You quaint old things you...
Wednesday 1 July 2009
Lunchtime sun bathing
Quick, the sun is out! Let's get naked!
I used to work just off Carnaby Street and when the sun shone, everyone in the surrounding area would head for the nearest square metre of grass and strip down to their underwear within seconds. Previously quiet and shy Sub Editors would think nothing of stripping down to their rather well upholstered Triumph bras. Meanwhile, the young Promotions Manager wouldn't miss out the opportunity to reveal the benefits of six months private training sessions with his newly acquired 'good friend'.
The determination to get a tan was quite remarkable. A colleague used to sit by the window with her bare arms dangling outside for half of the day. She would then spin the chair round and proceed to toast the other arm whilst continuing to field irate telephone calls from 'that idiot at Estee Lauder'.
All of which reminds me that London is beautiful when the sun shines and the streets shimmer in the heat. Add to that the chance to have a pint outside on the street whilst admiring the not inconsiderable views and you have another thing I miss about dear old Blighty!
I used to work just off Carnaby Street and when the sun shone, everyone in the surrounding area would head for the nearest square metre of grass and strip down to their underwear within seconds. Previously quiet and shy Sub Editors would think nothing of stripping down to their rather well upholstered Triumph bras. Meanwhile, the young Promotions Manager wouldn't miss out the opportunity to reveal the benefits of six months private training sessions with his newly acquired 'good friend'.
The determination to get a tan was quite remarkable. A colleague used to sit by the window with her bare arms dangling outside for half of the day. She would then spin the chair round and proceed to toast the other arm whilst continuing to field irate telephone calls from 'that idiot at Estee Lauder'.
All of which reminds me that London is beautiful when the sun shines and the streets shimmer in the heat. Add to that the chance to have a pint outside on the street whilst admiring the not inconsiderable views and you have another thing I miss about dear old Blighty!
Monday 29 June 2009
Poll Results - 2 Tone Bands
1= Madness
1= The Specials
3 The Beat
Surprise, surprise The Nutty Boys and Coventry's finest couldn't be split even 30 years after they first skanked onto the scene!
1= The Specials
3 The Beat
Surprise, surprise The Nutty Boys and Coventry's finest couldn't be split even 30 years after they first skanked onto the scene!
Thursday 25 June 2009
The Ashes Pre-amble
The Aussies arrival (normally via Gallipoli or Flanders), Boony lurching off the plane after 53 tubes of Toohey's, the warm up match at Arundel against the Duchess of Lavinia's XI, the worries about selection (Larkins or Gatting), the interviews, the boasts, the threats. The promise of victory and the long dark shadow of defeat.
Bring it on!
Bring it on!
Friday 19 June 2009
Decent Magazines
The simple pleasure of popping into the newsagent and having the choice of at least 5 decent magazines to buy. And although many of them are going through what can only be described as a fallow period, they still pour from a great height on the rubbish available here. So, a large round of applause for the following magazines (past & present):
The Face, Straight No Chaser, Select, Mojo, GQ, Arena, When Saturday Comes, JM96* & Spectrum. To name but a few!
The Face, Straight No Chaser, Select, Mojo, GQ, Arena, When Saturday Comes, JM96* & Spectrum. To name but a few!
Thursday 18 June 2009
Humorous Football Chants - Not
I had the good fortune to be at Wembley a couple of weeks ago and whilst it was a pleasure to see the mighty Chelsea vanquish Everton I was quite disappointed at the general level of crowd humour. It struck me that some chants and crowd reactions are getting a little bit tired.
Some examples of which are:
A Chelsea player falls over, cue Northern teams mass chants of
"Chelsea Rent Boy, Chelsea Rent boy"
Everton player falls over, cue
"Cheating Northern Bastard"
Everton fans start singing, cue
"In your Liverpool slums, you look in a dustbin for something to eat. You find a dead rat and you think it's a treat... Etc"
Everton player disuptes with referee, cue
"Calm down, calm down" in comical Harry Enfield scouser manner
Other teams responses are equally tired and laboured
Arsene Wenger gets up from the bench, cue
"Only one Arsene Wenger, with a packet of sweets and a cheeky smikle, Wenger is a f***in' paedophile"
Jose Mourinho gets up from the bench, cue Man City fans
"That coats from Matalan, that coats from Matalan..."
Actually that was bloody funny when they did it - the first time.
As for Chelsea's response to the god awful dirge "Liverpool, Liverpool" it doesn't bear repeating. Also Liverpool's songs about Busby Babes, United songs about Matthew Harding and Leeds United's songs about anyone
Although their song about "Cockney fan he is dead, escalator on his head..." is so surreal that it passed off with nothing more than a bemused shrug by most West Ham fans.
Top five favourite football banalities include:
"Yoooooooooooouuuuuuurrrrrrrrrrrreeeeeee Shhhhhhhhhhhhhiiiiiiiiiittttttttttttttaaaaaagh"
"Who's the Wanker in the black"
"She fell over, she fell over"
"My old man said be a Palace fan, I said f**k off b*ll*cks you're a ***t"
"Score in a brothel, you couldn't score in a brothel"
Some examples of which are:
A Chelsea player falls over, cue Northern teams mass chants of
"Chelsea Rent Boy, Chelsea Rent boy"
Everton player falls over, cue
"Cheating Northern Bastard"
Everton fans start singing, cue
"In your Liverpool slums, you look in a dustbin for something to eat. You find a dead rat and you think it's a treat... Etc"
Everton player disuptes with referee, cue
"Calm down, calm down" in comical Harry Enfield scouser manner
Other teams responses are equally tired and laboured
Arsene Wenger gets up from the bench, cue
"Only one Arsene Wenger, with a packet of sweets and a cheeky smikle, Wenger is a f***in' paedophile"
Jose Mourinho gets up from the bench, cue Man City fans
"That coats from Matalan, that coats from Matalan..."
Actually that was bloody funny when they did it - the first time.
As for Chelsea's response to the god awful dirge "Liverpool, Liverpool" it doesn't bear repeating. Also Liverpool's songs about Busby Babes, United songs about Matthew Harding and Leeds United's songs about anyone
Although their song about "Cockney fan he is dead, escalator on his head..." is so surreal that it passed off with nothing more than a bemused shrug by most West Ham fans.
Top five favourite football banalities include:
"Yoooooooooooouuuuuuurrrrrrrrrrrreeeeeee Shhhhhhhhhhhhhiiiiiiiiiittttttttttttttaaaaaagh"
"Who's the Wanker in the black"
"She fell over, she fell over"
"My old man said be a Palace fan, I said f**k off b*ll*cks you're a ***t"
"Score in a brothel, you couldn't score in a brothel"
Wednesday 17 June 2009
Two-Tone Tours
The Special AKA, Madness, The Selecter, The Beat, The Bodysnatchers...
Sweating, heaving, non-stop skanking! Bloody marvellous! With Terry & the gang reuniting (sans Jerry) and even coming to play Sydney. It is time to play a small but humble tribute to the whole two-tone movement which swept across Britain in the blinking of a black & white checked eye!
Built on a message of racial unity, top tunes and double danceable 'riddims', the two-tone tours charged up and down the country, mashing up the various Top Ranks and Guidhalls in an orgy of joyous excitement. The Selecter (lead by the particularly fine Pauline Black) would set the bill running, before those magnificent Nutty Boys bounded on stage full of North London bonhomie and their rockin', skanking fairground, reggae nooise. Then The Specials (AKA or otherwise) rounded off the evening with a slightly punkier more menacing set of ska classics and JD penned monster originals.
Even now I can still feel the cold sweat freezing on me as we walked home from Brighton Top Rank, soaked to the skin, overjoyed at the night just gone and wondering where on earth to get shades like Suggs and haircut like Terry Hall. All the while singing One Step Beyond, Long shot kick de bucket, Rat Race, On my Radio, My Girl and A messsage to you Rudy...
Go ahead and rediscover the joys of two-tone in fact why not enjoy yourself it's later than you think!
Sweating, heaving, non-stop skanking! Bloody marvellous! With Terry & the gang reuniting (sans Jerry) and even coming to play Sydney. It is time to play a small but humble tribute to the whole two-tone movement which swept across Britain in the blinking of a black & white checked eye!
Built on a message of racial unity, top tunes and double danceable 'riddims', the two-tone tours charged up and down the country, mashing up the various Top Ranks and Guidhalls in an orgy of joyous excitement. The Selecter (lead by the particularly fine Pauline Black) would set the bill running, before those magnificent Nutty Boys bounded on stage full of North London bonhomie and their rockin', skanking fairground, reggae nooise. Then The Specials (AKA or otherwise) rounded off the evening with a slightly punkier more menacing set of ska classics and JD penned monster originals.
Even now I can still feel the cold sweat freezing on me as we walked home from Brighton Top Rank, soaked to the skin, overjoyed at the night just gone and wondering where on earth to get shades like Suggs and haircut like Terry Hall. All the while singing One Step Beyond, Long shot kick de bucket, Rat Race, On my Radio, My Girl and A messsage to you Rudy...
Go ahead and rediscover the joys of two-tone in fact why not enjoy yourself it's later than you think!
Friday 12 June 2009
Suss Punks
"This is the way, step inside..."
Long macs, demob suits from second hand stores, Kafka, Camus and Gitanes. Nietszche, Wire, Joy Division, Ballard, town shoes and very pale skin. Sitting in the Spartan drinking one very slow mocha. A far away look and abject, sweet abject misery. John Peel, the library, Penguin classics and Herzog. No pogoing, just shuffling and the misery my friends, the misery. TS Eliot, Wim Wenders and a distinct lack of irony.
Oh, what fun we had...
Long macs, demob suits from second hand stores, Kafka, Camus and Gitanes. Nietszche, Wire, Joy Division, Ballard, town shoes and very pale skin. Sitting in the Spartan drinking one very slow mocha. A far away look and abject, sweet abject misery. John Peel, the library, Penguin classics and Herzog. No pogoing, just shuffling and the misery my friends, the misery. TS Eliot, Wim Wenders and a distinct lack of irony.
Oh, what fun we had...
Thursday 11 June 2009
Left wing political parties
Labour Party (don't laugh)
Young Socialists
Militant Tendancy
Socialist Workers Party
Trotskyites
Anarchists
Revolutionary Hedonists (Now they were Champagne Socialists)
Workers Revolutionary Party
Revolutionary Workers party
Situationists
Nihilists
Anyone could be forgiven for thinking that we weren't necessarily "in it to win it'. Oh well, hey ho - here we go again!
Young Socialists
Militant Tendancy
Socialist Workers Party
Trotskyites
Anarchists
Revolutionary Hedonists (Now they were Champagne Socialists)
Workers Revolutionary Party
Revolutionary Workers party
Situationists
Nihilists
Anyone could be forgiven for thinking that we weren't necessarily "in it to win it'. Oh well, hey ho - here we go again!
Wednesday 10 June 2009
Record Shops
Cramped, shimmering temples of the soul
I remember going to visit Paul Murphy's record shop, somewhere on Berwick Street. Past the The Blue Posts, by the market, in the door, down some steps and there they were, laid out before me like a thousand ebony stars fallen from the skies. Records by artists I'd never heard of, from countries far and wide, just stacked waiting for me to discover. And I stayed there for hours pondering which ones to buy, hoping against hope that I'd find an extra tenner in my pocket. Rent, schment!
It wasn't just Paul, the Portobello Road had some fine secrets hidden away too as did the back street lanes of Brighton, the second hand stores of Old Town, Paris, Melrose Avenue - Where I finally tracked down two copies of Dizzy on the Riviera!
No special offers, 2 for 1 DVD honey traps. Just good honest record shops, selling the key to my soul.
All hail Murphy, Rough Trade, Soul Jazz, Mambo, Honest John's etc etc!
I remember going to visit Paul Murphy's record shop, somewhere on Berwick Street. Past the The Blue Posts, by the market, in the door, down some steps and there they were, laid out before me like a thousand ebony stars fallen from the skies. Records by artists I'd never heard of, from countries far and wide, just stacked waiting for me to discover. And I stayed there for hours pondering which ones to buy, hoping against hope that I'd find an extra tenner in my pocket. Rent, schment!
It wasn't just Paul, the Portobello Road had some fine secrets hidden away too as did the back street lanes of Brighton, the second hand stores of Old Town, Paris, Melrose Avenue - Where I finally tracked down two copies of Dizzy on the Riviera!
No special offers, 2 for 1 DVD honey traps. Just good honest record shops, selling the key to my soul.
All hail Murphy, Rough Trade, Soul Jazz, Mambo, Honest John's etc etc!
Tuesday 9 June 2009
Tuesday 26 May 2009
A Ted Rogers - ' The Cocktail of the Gods'
3-2-1
3 measures of Smirnoff Black label
2 measures of 10 year old white rum
1 large splash of Champagne
A small dash of R.Whites Lemonade (opened left-handed)
2 crushed cubes of ice (Preferrably Evian)
1 slice of lime
Shake Vodka, Rum, Ice and Lemonade before adding splash of Champagne
Serve in half pint straight glass and pretend it's water!
Created by the Great Hector Chumpitaz - Head Barman at the Tivoli/Hippodrome Theatre Eastbourne and keen poker player. Circa 1985
3 measures of Smirnoff Black label
2 measures of 10 year old white rum
1 large splash of Champagne
A small dash of R.Whites Lemonade (opened left-handed)
2 crushed cubes of ice (Preferrably Evian)
1 slice of lime
Shake Vodka, Rum, Ice and Lemonade before adding splash of Champagne
Serve in half pint straight glass and pretend it's water!
Created by the Great Hector Chumpitaz - Head Barman at the Tivoli/Hippodrome Theatre Eastbourne and keen poker player. Circa 1985
The Art of being an English Gentleman (Part 5)
Wake up sober, get up drunk. Sway gently to the beautiful cleansing rhythms of the Modern Jazz Quartet whilst ironing crisp white shirt. Look out of the window of my Marble Arch hotel room. Try to remember the chaos of the night before. Dress in lighted grey three-button summer suit, crisp white aforementioned, silver links, black/sky tie, stout brogues (black). Stroll through the lobby, receive knowing look from the concierge. Thrust myself out into the hubbub of Oxford Street.
Stride purposefully to Piccadilly Circus. Straight into the bar at the Criterion, demand a very large Ted Rogers (see 'Cocktail of the Gods' entry). Down it in one. Plonk self at end of bar, read cricket reports, chuckle at Surrey's plight. Order second Ted. Finish. Step out into afternoon light. Weave way to a small poetry reading in Greek Street, declaim beautiful, hysterical, decadent and romantic verse for two hours. Leave smothered in kisses, with a rather feisty thing called Maisy on my arm, glowing with sheer unadulterated delight. Hail Taxi and head for the banks of the River Thames. Get out, propose undying love to the night, the city and the stars and then head back to Marble Arch.
Wake up drunk, get up later...
Stride purposefully to Piccadilly Circus. Straight into the bar at the Criterion, demand a very large Ted Rogers (see 'Cocktail of the Gods' entry). Down it in one. Plonk self at end of bar, read cricket reports, chuckle at Surrey's plight. Order second Ted. Finish. Step out into afternoon light. Weave way to a small poetry reading in Greek Street, declaim beautiful, hysterical, decadent and romantic verse for two hours. Leave smothered in kisses, with a rather feisty thing called Maisy on my arm, glowing with sheer unadulterated delight. Hail Taxi and head for the banks of the River Thames. Get out, propose undying love to the night, the city and the stars and then head back to Marble Arch.
Wake up drunk, get up later...
Haircut 100
Calling Captain Autumn
Often unfairly derided as being a trite little pop band. I liked the '100, a tight little funk-pop band with top tunes, chunky sweaters, billy whizz guitar chords, deck shoes or brogues, jaunty Beatles caps, sowesters, Triumph Heralds, country pubs, games of cricket, obscure lyrics courtesy of old cheeky chops Heyward and a very fine version of 'Low Rider' by War.
A decidedly more upbeat alternative to Josef K and the rest of the long mac brigade (not that I wasn't adverese to immersing myself in the collected works of Joy Division for months on end - more from them later...)
For additional memories amble through the Pelican West track listing and pick a tune!
Favourite Shirts (Boy Meets Girl, Love Plus One, Lemon Firebrigade, Marine Boy, Milk Film, Kingsize (You're My Little Steam Whistle), Fantastic Day, Baked Bean, Snow Girl, Love's Got Me in Triangles, Surprise Me Again, Calling Captain Autumn +
CD bonus tracks: Boat Party, Ski Club, Nobody's Fool, October Is Orange (day 1 and 2)
Often unfairly derided as being a trite little pop band. I liked the '100, a tight little funk-pop band with top tunes, chunky sweaters, billy whizz guitar chords, deck shoes or brogues, jaunty Beatles caps, sowesters, Triumph Heralds, country pubs, games of cricket, obscure lyrics courtesy of old cheeky chops Heyward and a very fine version of 'Low Rider' by War.
A decidedly more upbeat alternative to Josef K and the rest of the long mac brigade (not that I wasn't adverese to immersing myself in the collected works of Joy Division for months on end - more from them later...)
For additional memories amble through the Pelican West track listing and pick a tune!
Favourite Shirts (Boy Meets Girl, Love Plus One, Lemon Firebrigade, Marine Boy, Milk Film, Kingsize (You're My Little Steam Whistle), Fantastic Day, Baked Bean, Snow Girl, Love's Got Me in Triangles, Surprise Me Again, Calling Captain Autumn +
CD bonus tracks: Boat Party, Ski Club, Nobody's Fool, October Is Orange (day 1 and 2)
Monday 25 May 2009
Walking back from town
No night buses, taxis, gun culture, knives, muggings...
Just walking along the middle of Seaside Road at two in the morning, singing to the moon. Oh, how the townsfolk loved my unerring renditions of modern day popular classics... The look of love... Fly me to the moon... We don't need that Fascist Groove thang... Felicity... Blue Monday... The hits just kept on coming!
Just walking along the middle of Seaside Road at two in the morning, singing to the moon. Oh, how the townsfolk loved my unerring renditions of modern day popular classics... The look of love... Fly me to the moon... We don't need that Fascist Groove thang... Felicity... Blue Monday... The hits just kept on coming!
Sunday 24 May 2009
RNLI
Because it's rough out there
The Royal National Lifeboat Institution (RNLI) is a charity that saves lives at sea around the coasts of the British Isles, as well as inshore. Founded by Sir William Hillary (Isle of Man) on 4 March 1824 as the National Institution for the Preservation of Life from Shipwreck, adopting the present name in 1854.
The RNLI operates over 230 lifeboat stations around the coasts of Great Britain and Ireland. Since 1980, lifeboat rescues have doubled; the RNLI rescues an average of 22people each day.
Over 137,000 peoples lives have been saved by the RNLI. Bloody marvellous!
The Royal National Lifeboat Institution (RNLI) is a charity that saves lives at sea around the coasts of the British Isles, as well as inshore. Founded by Sir William Hillary (Isle of Man) on 4 March 1824 as the National Institution for the Preservation of Life from Shipwreck, adopting the present name in 1854.
The RNLI operates over 230 lifeboat stations around the coasts of Great Britain and Ireland. Since 1980, lifeboat rescues have doubled; the RNLI rescues an average of 22people each day.
Over 137,000 peoples lives have been saved by the RNLI. Bloody marvellous!
Thursday 21 May 2009
Monday 18 May 2009
Martello Towers
I can see one from my window
Between 1804 and 1812 the British authorities built a chain of towers based on the original Mortella tower to defend the south and east coast of England, Ireland, Jersey and Guernsey to guard against possible invasion from France, then under the rule of the Emperor Napoleon. A total of 103[8] Martello towers were built in England, set at regular intervals along the coast from Seaford, Sussex, to Aldeburgh, Suffolk. Most were constructed under the direction of General William Twiss (1745–1827) and a Captain Ford.[9][10]
The effectiveness of Britain's Martello towers was never actually tested in combat against a Napoleonic invasion fleet. After the threat had passed, the Martello towers in England met a variety of fates. The Coastguard took over many to aid in the fight against smuggling. Fifteen towers were demolished to enable the re-use of their masonry. The sea washed thirty away and the military destroyed four in experiments to test the effectiveness of the new rifled artillery.
During the Second World War, some Martello towers returned to military service as observation platforms and firing platforms for anti-aircraft artillery. Forty-seven have survived in England, a few of which have been restored and transformed into museums (e.g., the tower at St Osyth), visitor centres, and galleries (such as Jaywick Martello Tower). Some are privately owned or are private residences; the remainder are derelict. A survey of the East Coast towers in 2007 found of the 17 remaining, most were in a reasonable condition.
I love the way they hover on the edge of the English coast, standing staunch against the elements and the threat of ancient invasions. They invoke a deep affection in me for the particular stretch of coast from the Wish Tower to Cooden Beach (Soul Bay). So, much so that the house I bought in Normans Bay is 50 yards from one - I wanted to actually buy one but couldn't quite manage to win that argument!
Between 1804 and 1812 the British authorities built a chain of towers based on the original Mortella tower to defend the south and east coast of England, Ireland, Jersey and Guernsey to guard against possible invasion from France, then under the rule of the Emperor Napoleon. A total of 103[8] Martello towers were built in England, set at regular intervals along the coast from Seaford, Sussex, to Aldeburgh, Suffolk. Most were constructed under the direction of General William Twiss (1745–1827) and a Captain Ford.[9][10]
The effectiveness of Britain's Martello towers was never actually tested in combat against a Napoleonic invasion fleet. After the threat had passed, the Martello towers in England met a variety of fates. The Coastguard took over many to aid in the fight against smuggling. Fifteen towers were demolished to enable the re-use of their masonry. The sea washed thirty away and the military destroyed four in experiments to test the effectiveness of the new rifled artillery.
During the Second World War, some Martello towers returned to military service as observation platforms and firing platforms for anti-aircraft artillery. Forty-seven have survived in England, a few of which have been restored and transformed into museums (e.g., the tower at St Osyth), visitor centres, and galleries (such as Jaywick Martello Tower). Some are privately owned or are private residences; the remainder are derelict. A survey of the East Coast towers in 2007 found of the 17 remaining, most were in a reasonable condition.
I love the way they hover on the edge of the English coast, standing staunch against the elements and the threat of ancient invasions. They invoke a deep affection in me for the particular stretch of coast from the Wish Tower to Cooden Beach (Soul Bay). So, much so that the house I bought in Normans Bay is 50 yards from one - I wanted to actually buy one but couldn't quite manage to win that argument!
Friday 15 May 2009
Heathrow Airport
Touchdown at dawn, having flown half the way round the world. Stumble out from the warm but smelly cocoon of a QF flight into the bitter cold of a Heathrow morning. Traipse three quarters of a mile to passport control. Be greeted by a surly forty something skinhead/Passport control officer. Head down to the luggage reclaim, find that none of the trolleys work properly. Finally find one with a wonky wheel. Join the queue at the carousel. Wait...
...until an hour later the last bag is collected leaving only a trainer and a pushchair slowly circling around. Head through customs, avoid the gaze at all times and flop into the arrivals lounge to be greeted by a row of dodgy cab drivers/chauffers. Try out the cash machine, get lucky. Buy a Guardian and then try to navigate the trolley to the Heathrow Express. Miss the next two london bound trains whilst trying to purchase a ticket. Finally get on board the stopping train to Paddington. Train pulls out of Heathrow Terminal 4. Heave huge sigh of arrival, it's good to be back home!
...until an hour later the last bag is collected leaving only a trainer and a pushchair slowly circling around. Head through customs, avoid the gaze at all times and flop into the arrivals lounge to be greeted by a row of dodgy cab drivers/chauffers. Try out the cash machine, get lucky. Buy a Guardian and then try to navigate the trolley to the Heathrow Express. Miss the next two london bound trains whilst trying to purchase a ticket. Finally get on board the stopping train to Paddington. Train pulls out of Heathrow Terminal 4. Heave huge sigh of arrival, it's good to be back home!
Wednesday 13 May 2009
Brick Lane
The noise, the smells, the posh & the poor, the curry houses, bakeries, the history. Above all the history that seeps through every inch of this wonderfully mixed up, shook up stretch of East London.
Tuesday 12 May 2009
The Third Round of the FA Cup
Who put the ball in United's net? Arthur, Arthur
Who put the ball in United's net? Arthur f'in Chelsea!
When the minnows meet the international superstars of the premier league, when the whole town disappears to see their local team (for the first and only time) get utterly mauled by an in-form Championship side and when the local baker makes an FA Cup shaped special with the immortal words “Up for the Cup’ in blue piping on top. Old cup heroes (Chris Kelly of Leatherhead, Ricky George of Hereford Utd etc) are wheeled in front of the cameras and whichever team “Fat Sam” Allardyce manages shows their respect for the oldest cup competition in the world by fielding a team of youth players and loan signings from Ostende FC.
Once the games are underway the best place to capture it is at Stamford Bridge in the East Upper with the three toothed, radio carrying ‘Henge’ stuttering out the results as Chelsea put in a suitably lacklustre performance (later scraping through in a replay at Roots Hall). Meanwhile all the other results are flooding in, Wealdstone Rifles have taken a two goal lead against Cardiff, Man Utd are 4-0 up against West Ham after 5 minutes and Sunderland are losing. Come the half time pint and the morbid second half, a quick dash to the pub to get the final results. Plucky Wealdstone lose 3-2, Man Utd took off 9 players to rest them for a team pub quiz and they still managed to put six past the ‘ammers and Sunderland lost.
The Sunday papers are brim full of the near misses, the thrashings and hope against hope the giant killing – which usually involve one of three teams; Kettering, Blyth Spartans and Crystal Palace. Then it is down the pub to watch the Sunday games, culminating in Spurs losing away to Liverpool. Same thing every year, you can’t beat it!
Who put the ball in United's net? Arthur f'in Chelsea!
When the minnows meet the international superstars of the premier league, when the whole town disappears to see their local team (for the first and only time) get utterly mauled by an in-form Championship side and when the local baker makes an FA Cup shaped special with the immortal words “Up for the Cup’ in blue piping on top. Old cup heroes (Chris Kelly of Leatherhead, Ricky George of Hereford Utd etc) are wheeled in front of the cameras and whichever team “Fat Sam” Allardyce manages shows their respect for the oldest cup competition in the world by fielding a team of youth players and loan signings from Ostende FC.
Once the games are underway the best place to capture it is at Stamford Bridge in the East Upper with the three toothed, radio carrying ‘Henge’ stuttering out the results as Chelsea put in a suitably lacklustre performance (later scraping through in a replay at Roots Hall). Meanwhile all the other results are flooding in, Wealdstone Rifles have taken a two goal lead against Cardiff, Man Utd are 4-0 up against West Ham after 5 minutes and Sunderland are losing. Come the half time pint and the morbid second half, a quick dash to the pub to get the final results. Plucky Wealdstone lose 3-2, Man Utd took off 9 players to rest them for a team pub quiz and they still managed to put six past the ‘ammers and Sunderland lost.
The Sunday papers are brim full of the near misses, the thrashings and hope against hope the giant killing – which usually involve one of three teams; Kettering, Blyth Spartans and Crystal Palace. Then it is down the pub to watch the Sunday games, culminating in Spurs losing away to Liverpool. Same thing every year, you can’t beat it!
Thursday 7 May 2009
Madness
North London's finest, a national treasure, the nuttiest sound around.
I've just taken receipt of the very fine 'Liberty of Norton Folgate' box set and the joy of the magnificent Madness swept over me once again. I remember seeing them at The Lyceum and the Top Rank in the early 'One Step Beyond' days and I managed to catch them a month ago when they played Luna Park in Sydney. They are still the most danceable, enjoyable and occasional melancholic band going.
So, hats off to Messrs Barson, Chrissy Boy, Woody, Bedders, Monsieur Barso, Lee 'Kix' Thompson and of course Suggs. 1,2,3,4...
I've just taken receipt of the very fine 'Liberty of Norton Folgate' box set and the joy of the magnificent Madness swept over me once again. I remember seeing them at The Lyceum and the Top Rank in the early 'One Step Beyond' days and I managed to catch them a month ago when they played Luna Park in Sydney. They are still the most danceable, enjoyable and occasional melancholic band going.
So, hats off to Messrs Barson, Chrissy Boy, Woody, Bedders, Monsieur Barso, Lee 'Kix' Thompson and of course Suggs. 1,2,3,4...
Saturday 2 May 2009
Stop the City
Oh happy days. When revolution was just a Special Brew fuelled stroll through London away! Helicopters on demand!
Thursday 30 April 2009
The view from... Muswell Hill
Out over Alexandra Palace, Tottenham and on, on to the far flung desolate land that is Essex. Sweet memories of Guy Fawkes night (which reminds me), the fair, the farmers market, the fantastic Sushi shop and much much more.
All the while with the ghost of The Kinks echoing across the rooftops and disused viaducts...
All the while with the ghost of The Kinks echoing across the rooftops and disused viaducts...
Tizer
Not quite sure what it was made of, not quite sure if it still exists. But I do know that if you mix it with Vodka the world seems a better place!
Thursday 16 April 2009
The view from... Primrose Hill
Primrose Hill is a hill of 256 feet located on the north side of Regent's Park in North London, England, and also the name for the surrounding district. The hill has a clear view of Central London to the south-east, as well as Belsize Park and Hampstead to the north. Quite simply it is the perfect place for new lovers, old lags and Eastern European ‘Trade Delegates’ and ‘Civil Servants’ to meet, greet and swap state secrets.
Like Regent's Park, Primrose Hill was once part of a great chase stolen by Henry VIII and became Crown property in 1841. In 1842 an Act of Parliament secured the land as public open space, so put that one in your pipe and smoke it. The built up part of Primrose Hill consists mainly of Victorian terraces. It has always been one of the more fashionable districts in the urban belt that lies between the core of London and the outer suburbs, and remains expensive and prosperous. Primrose Hill is an archetypal example of a successful London urban village, due to the location and the quality of its boozers.
Primrose Hill in sound, vision and print
• It is referred to in a poem by William Blake: "...The fields from Islington to Marylebone/To Primrose Hill and Saint John's Wood/Were builded over with pillars of gold/And there Jerusalem's pillars stood..." It was upon Primrose Hill which the poet-illustrator supposedly climbed and had conversations with the Spirit of the Sun. He also believed that this area would eventually be the foundation for one of the pillars of the biblical New Jerusalem and he was right about that!
• Musician Billy Bragg mentions seeing Angels up on Primrose Hill in his song Upfield "I dreamed I saw a tree full of angels, up on Primrose Hill". Bragg says he was inspired to write this song from William Blake. Nice one Bill!
• In H.G. Wells' book The War of the Worlds, Primrose Hill was the site of the final Martian encampment.
• Primrose Hill is referred to in the Blur song For Tomorrow. The lyrics "and the view's so nice", from the song, have been painted on a path leading to the top of Primrose Hill.
• Primrose Hill is mentioned in the Appleton single "Everything Eventually", with the line "Let's go fly a kite on Primrose Hill". The video for the song was shot there too.
• Oasis took the black and white photo for the cover of the single "Wonderwall" here where a girl is shown through a frame.
• Primrose Hill is referred to in "Emit Remmus" ('summer time' backwards), a song by the Red Hot Chili Peppers, which is off of their 1999 album Californication.
• Primrose Hill is referred to by Herman Melville in his "Cock-A-Doodle-Doo!" short story. It refers to "all London, from Mile End (which is no end) to Primrose Hill (where there ain't any primroses..."
• In "The Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul," by Douglas Adams, Kate Schecter lives in a flat on Primrose Hill.
• Primrose Hill is referred by Beverley Martyn in her song "Primrose Hill" on the 1970 John & Beverley Martyn album Road to Ruin, later irritatingly sampled in "North West Three", a tune by Fatboy Slim, on his 2004 album "Palookaville".
• The English popular beat group Madness released a song named "Primrose Hill" on their album The Rise & Fall. It starts with the line "A man opened his window and stared up Primrose Hill...". The album cover was also photographed on the hill itself.
• Primrose Hill is an underground station on the North London System in the novel The Horn of Mortal Danger (1980).
• A murder is committed in Primrose Hill by "The Avenger" in Marie Belloc Lowndes's 1913 mystery, The Lodger.
• Top of Primrose Hill shown in opening scene of "Bridget Jones Edge of Reason".
• The Emilíana Torrini song "Unemployed in Summertime" begins with the lyrics "Let's get drunk on Saturday, Walk on Primrose Hill until we lose our way".
• Parts of the British romance comedy Imagine Me & You was filmed on Primrose Hill, featuring Lena Headey and Piper Perabo
• In George MacDonald's fantasy novel At the Back of the North Wind, North Wind and Diamond briefly halt at the top of Primrose Hill during their first nightly voyage.
• American singer-songwriter Loudon Wainwright III lived nearby for a time and wrote a song called "Primrose Hill" about the area – which is all we bloody need..
• Rupert Grint's character, Ben, walks down Primrose Hill at the end of "Driving Lessons."
• One of the scenes of 2006 movie Breaking and Entering takes place at the top of Primrose Hill.
• Two main characters from Bookends, by Jane Green, Cath and Si often visit Primrose Hill to walk a friend's dog, Mouse.
• Primrose Hill appears to be where Martha Jones teleports back to when The Master begins to take over the world in the Doctor Who episode, The Sound of Drums
• In Dodie Smith'sThe Hundred and One Dalmatians, the Dearly family live near the district, on Regent's Park's Outer Circle, with Primrose Hill itself forming an excellent location for Pongo to engage in the 'twilight barking'.
Primrose Hill Residents
• Adam Ant (born, Stuart Leslie Goddard), singer-songwriter and actor
• Alan Bennett, author and baker of exceedingly good eccles cakes
• Cameron McVey, Producer (Massive Attack, Sugababes, All Saints)
• Charles Brasch, notable New Zealand poet, editor, and cultural critic
• Chris Moyles, Crap & Fat Radio 1 DJ and borderline homophobe
• David Miliband, Foreign Secretary
• Enrique Iglesias, Spanish Singer (not sure about this)
• Eva Green, actress
• Ewan McGregor, An actor
• Finley Quaye singer-songwriter
• Friedrich Engels, Singer, songwriter, political philosopher and co-author of The Communist Manifesto
• Geri Halliwell, “singer”, “songwriter” and “children’s author”
• Helena Bonham Carter 2, actress
• Ian McKay, writer and academic
• Jamie and 'Jools' Oliver, celebrity chef and trophy wife
• Joan Bakewell Tart, journalist and broadcaster
• John McCririck, objectionable horse racing pundit
• Martin Shaw, actor, composer and organist of St Mary's, Primrose Hill
• Jon Snow, News Broadcaster, discoverer of the Cholera virus and former England fast bowler
• Jonny Lee Miller, actor and star of "Love, Honour & Obey"
• Jude Law, actor and star of "Love, Honour & Obey"
• Kate Moss, fashion model
• Neneh Cherry, singer and songwriter
• Rachel Weisz, actress
• Rachel Stevens, actress, singer, model, scientist
• Sadie Frost, “actress” currently between roles and co-owner of fashion label Frost French and bit part player in of "Love, Honour & Obey"
• Sean Pertwee, actor and star of "Love, Honour & Obey"
• Sharleen Spiteri, singer
• Sienna Miller, actress
• Simon Callow, An ACTOR/SHOUTER!
• Sophie Ellis-Bextor-Swing-Bacon, “singer” and songwriter
Like Regent's Park, Primrose Hill was once part of a great chase stolen by Henry VIII and became Crown property in 1841. In 1842 an Act of Parliament secured the land as public open space, so put that one in your pipe and smoke it. The built up part of Primrose Hill consists mainly of Victorian terraces. It has always been one of the more fashionable districts in the urban belt that lies between the core of London and the outer suburbs, and remains expensive and prosperous. Primrose Hill is an archetypal example of a successful London urban village, due to the location and the quality of its boozers.
Primrose Hill in sound, vision and print
• It is referred to in a poem by William Blake: "...The fields from Islington to Marylebone/To Primrose Hill and Saint John's Wood/Were builded over with pillars of gold/And there Jerusalem's pillars stood..." It was upon Primrose Hill which the poet-illustrator supposedly climbed and had conversations with the Spirit of the Sun. He also believed that this area would eventually be the foundation for one of the pillars of the biblical New Jerusalem and he was right about that!
• Musician Billy Bragg mentions seeing Angels up on Primrose Hill in his song Upfield "I dreamed I saw a tree full of angels, up on Primrose Hill". Bragg says he was inspired to write this song from William Blake. Nice one Bill!
• In H.G. Wells' book The War of the Worlds, Primrose Hill was the site of the final Martian encampment.
• Primrose Hill is referred to in the Blur song For Tomorrow. The lyrics "and the view's so nice", from the song, have been painted on a path leading to the top of Primrose Hill.
• Primrose Hill is mentioned in the Appleton single "Everything Eventually", with the line "Let's go fly a kite on Primrose Hill". The video for the song was shot there too.
• Oasis took the black and white photo for the cover of the single "Wonderwall" here where a girl is shown through a frame.
• Primrose Hill is referred to in "Emit Remmus" ('summer time' backwards), a song by the Red Hot Chili Peppers, which is off of their 1999 album Californication.
• Primrose Hill is referred to by Herman Melville in his "Cock-A-Doodle-Doo!" short story. It refers to "all London, from Mile End (which is no end) to Primrose Hill (where there ain't any primroses..."
• In "The Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul," by Douglas Adams, Kate Schecter lives in a flat on Primrose Hill.
• Primrose Hill is referred by Beverley Martyn in her song "Primrose Hill" on the 1970 John & Beverley Martyn album Road to Ruin, later irritatingly sampled in "North West Three", a tune by Fatboy Slim, on his 2004 album "Palookaville".
• The English popular beat group Madness released a song named "Primrose Hill" on their album The Rise & Fall. It starts with the line "A man opened his window and stared up Primrose Hill...". The album cover was also photographed on the hill itself.
• Primrose Hill is an underground station on the North London System in the novel The Horn of Mortal Danger (1980).
• A murder is committed in Primrose Hill by "The Avenger" in Marie Belloc Lowndes's 1913 mystery, The Lodger.
• Top of Primrose Hill shown in opening scene of "Bridget Jones Edge of Reason".
• The Emilíana Torrini song "Unemployed in Summertime" begins with the lyrics "Let's get drunk on Saturday, Walk on Primrose Hill until we lose our way".
• Parts of the British romance comedy Imagine Me & You was filmed on Primrose Hill, featuring Lena Headey and Piper Perabo
• In George MacDonald's fantasy novel At the Back of the North Wind, North Wind and Diamond briefly halt at the top of Primrose Hill during their first nightly voyage.
• American singer-songwriter Loudon Wainwright III lived nearby for a time and wrote a song called "Primrose Hill" about the area – which is all we bloody need..
• Rupert Grint's character, Ben, walks down Primrose Hill at the end of "Driving Lessons."
• One of the scenes of 2006 movie Breaking and Entering takes place at the top of Primrose Hill.
• Two main characters from Bookends, by Jane Green, Cath and Si often visit Primrose Hill to walk a friend's dog, Mouse.
• Primrose Hill appears to be where Martha Jones teleports back to when The Master begins to take over the world in the Doctor Who episode, The Sound of Drums
• In Dodie Smith'sThe Hundred and One Dalmatians, the Dearly family live near the district, on Regent's Park's Outer Circle, with Primrose Hill itself forming an excellent location for Pongo to engage in the 'twilight barking'.
Primrose Hill Residents
• Adam Ant (born, Stuart Leslie Goddard), singer-songwriter and actor
• Alan Bennett, author and baker of exceedingly good eccles cakes
• Cameron McVey, Producer (Massive Attack, Sugababes, All Saints)
• Charles Brasch, notable New Zealand poet, editor, and cultural critic
• Chris Moyles, Crap & Fat Radio 1 DJ and borderline homophobe
• David Miliband, Foreign Secretary
• Enrique Iglesias, Spanish Singer (not sure about this)
• Eva Green, actress
• Ewan McGregor, An actor
• Finley Quaye singer-songwriter
• Friedrich Engels, Singer, songwriter, political philosopher and co-author of The Communist Manifesto
• Geri Halliwell, “singer”, “songwriter” and “children’s author”
• Helena Bonham Carter 2, actress
• Ian McKay, writer and academic
• Jamie and 'Jools' Oliver, celebrity chef and trophy wife
• Joan Bakewell Tart, journalist and broadcaster
• John McCririck, objectionable horse racing pundit
• Martin Shaw, actor, composer and organist of St Mary's, Primrose Hill
• Jon Snow, News Broadcaster, discoverer of the Cholera virus and former England fast bowler
• Jonny Lee Miller, actor and star of "Love, Honour & Obey"
• Jude Law, actor and star of "Love, Honour & Obey"
• Kate Moss, fashion model
• Neneh Cherry, singer and songwriter
• Rachel Weisz, actress
• Rachel Stevens, actress, singer, model, scientist
• Sadie Frost, “actress” currently between roles and co-owner of fashion label Frost French and bit part player in of "Love, Honour & Obey"
• Sean Pertwee, actor and star of "Love, Honour & Obey"
• Sharleen Spiteri, singer
• Sienna Miller, actress
• Simon Callow, An ACTOR/SHOUTER!
• Sophie Ellis-Bextor-Swing-Bacon, “singer” and songwriter
Friday 20 March 2009
The view from… the downs (part 2)
Standing at the foot of the Long man of Wilmington with a pint in my hand.
The origin of the Long Man remains hazy, most probably a medieval stag night prank. Originally, the earliest record of the carving was in a drawing done by William Burrell when he visited Wilmington Priory, nestling under Windover Hill. However, an earlier record was found made by the surveyor John Rowley in the year 1710. The 18th century drawing suggested that the original figure was a shadow or indentation in the grass with facial features, rather than just a solid outline of a human figure. The head was a helmet shape and the staffs were not depicted as a rake and scythe as was once thought but more of a Mattal (A traditional Sussex weapon - not unlike a modern machete), which was used for lopping off the heads of the local landed gentry by the ‘Freemen of Sussex’. The Freemen were a notorious band of anti-monarchist atheists (and most probably the real model for the tale of Robin Hood) who scoured the length and breadth of Sussex for the majority of the 14th Century. It was they who gave rise to the Sussex motto 'We won't be druv'. It should be noted that Sir William Borrow's drawing of 1766 shows the figure holding a rake and a scythe, both shorter than the staves.
Before 1874, the Long Man was only visible after a light fall of snow in certain light conditions (such as in early morning or evening). In that year Reverend William de St Croix marked out the outline with yellow bricks cemented together though it is claimed that the restoration process distorted the position of the feet, and removed the Long Man's genitalia (there is no historical or archaeological evidence which supports the latter claim). Although the ‘Sons & Daughters of the freemen of Sussex’ claim that the genitalia were removed on the express orders of Queen Victoria who was alarmed at the prodigious size of the appendage which according to observers made both Prince Albert and John Thomas Brown look rather wee by comparison.
Archaeological work done by the University of Reading suggests that the figure dates from the sixteenth or seventeenth century AD. Although this is likely to be absolute bunkum, as those good for nothing geeks at Reading have spent far too long watching countdown and drinking snakebite and know knack all about Sussex.
In 1925, the site of the Long Man was given to the Sussex Archaeological Trust (now the Sussex Archaeological Society) by the Duke of Devonshire (which is pretty ironic as it wasn’t his to bloody give away in the first place). During the Second World War the Long Man was painted green to avoid it being used as a landmark by German aircraft. However, the painters who were used to cover up the job did paint a huge bullseye target on the roof of the Duke of Devonshire’s house! Sadly the Heinkel pilot’s aim was a bit off that night.
In 1993 a book, The Druid Way by Sussex author Philip Carr-Gomm, drew attention to the supposed spiritual and psychological significance of the Long Man as a sacred site for the modern world. He has yet to be disproved.
The origin of the Long Man remains hazy, most probably a medieval stag night prank. Originally, the earliest record of the carving was in a drawing done by William Burrell when he visited Wilmington Priory, nestling under Windover Hill. However, an earlier record was found made by the surveyor John Rowley in the year 1710. The 18th century drawing suggested that the original figure was a shadow or indentation in the grass with facial features, rather than just a solid outline of a human figure. The head was a helmet shape and the staffs were not depicted as a rake and scythe as was once thought but more of a Mattal (A traditional Sussex weapon - not unlike a modern machete), which was used for lopping off the heads of the local landed gentry by the ‘Freemen of Sussex’. The Freemen were a notorious band of anti-monarchist atheists (and most probably the real model for the tale of Robin Hood) who scoured the length and breadth of Sussex for the majority of the 14th Century. It was they who gave rise to the Sussex motto 'We won't be druv'. It should be noted that Sir William Borrow's drawing of 1766 shows the figure holding a rake and a scythe, both shorter than the staves.
Before 1874, the Long Man was only visible after a light fall of snow in certain light conditions (such as in early morning or evening). In that year Reverend William de St Croix marked out the outline with yellow bricks cemented together though it is claimed that the restoration process distorted the position of the feet, and removed the Long Man's genitalia (there is no historical or archaeological evidence which supports the latter claim). Although the ‘Sons & Daughters of the freemen of Sussex’ claim that the genitalia were removed on the express orders of Queen Victoria who was alarmed at the prodigious size of the appendage which according to observers made both Prince Albert and John Thomas Brown look rather wee by comparison.
Archaeological work done by the University of Reading suggests that the figure dates from the sixteenth or seventeenth century AD. Although this is likely to be absolute bunkum, as those good for nothing geeks at Reading have spent far too long watching countdown and drinking snakebite and know knack all about Sussex.
In 1925, the site of the Long Man was given to the Sussex Archaeological Trust (now the Sussex Archaeological Society) by the Duke of Devonshire (which is pretty ironic as it wasn’t his to bloody give away in the first place). During the Second World War the Long Man was painted green to avoid it being used as a landmark by German aircraft. However, the painters who were used to cover up the job did paint a huge bullseye target on the roof of the Duke of Devonshire’s house! Sadly the Heinkel pilot’s aim was a bit off that night.
In 1993 a book, The Druid Way by Sussex author Philip Carr-Gomm, drew attention to the supposed spiritual and psychological significance of the Long Man as a sacred site for the modern world. He has yet to be disproved.
Thursday 19 March 2009
The view from… the downs (part 1)
Looking out over the elegant sweep of the Italian Gardens, Wish Tour, Bandstand , the Pier, Redoubt, Langney Point all the way along to Normans Bay and beyond to Hastings and sometimes as far as Dungeness. As far as the eye can see…
Wednesday 18 March 2009
Bluebell Railway
Despite my earlier homage to BR toast I am more of a bus man than a train man. That being said it doesn’t stop me from missing the volunteer run Bluebell Line which was the UK's first preserved standard gauge passenger railway, re-opening part of the Lewes to East Grinstead line of the old London Brighton & South Coast Railway in 1960. Since then it has apparently developed into one of the largest tourist attractions in Sussex, yet it still remains true to its objectives of the preservation for posterity of a country branch line, its steam locomotives, coaches and goods stock, signalling systems, stations and operating practices.
It is also inevitably features in every possible period drama featuring steam locomotion, from ‘Brideshead Revisited’ to ‘Eh oop there goes the neighborhood’ (A satirical look at life in a pre-electrification Leeds circa 2004).
It is also inevitably features in every possible period drama featuring steam locomotion, from ‘Brideshead Revisited’ to ‘Eh oop there goes the neighborhood’ (A satirical look at life in a pre-electrification Leeds circa 2004).
Tuesday 17 March 2009
The view from… Suicide Bridge
Looking out over tired old London
Thomas Telford's construction of Archway Road was originally intended to pass through Highgate Hill as a tunnel. However, the tunnel collapsed, leaving an inadvertent cutting through the hill. In 1813, John 'Nutter' Nash built a bridge, known as the Archway, to carry the ancient Hornsey Lane over the cutting. Between 1897 and 1900, Nash's bridge was replaced with the present cast-iron structure, officially called the "Hornsey Lane Bridge" but universally known as "Suicide Bridge". Suicide Bridge is, as the name would suggest, one of the world's most significant locations for suicides, and is the only significant suicide bridge to pass over land rather than water, which makes for a very messy landing. A sign on the Hornsey side suggests that if you are contemplating topping yourself you should; 'Take the Eastbourne train from Victoria and if you haven't already flung yourself out of the moving train in despair at passing through the living hell that is Three Bridges then you should alight at Eastbourne and take a cab to Beachy Head'.
Accessible from the Archway Road level by a steep flight of steps, Suicide Bridge, as one of the highest points in London, offers impressive views over London and is a popular spot for photographers.
Suicide Bridge marks the boundary between Islington and Haringey, and consequently the official boundary between Inner London and Outer London. Although technically the boundary runs down the centre of the bridge, in practice the bridge is treated as part of Haringey and the land beneath it as part of Islington. For historic reasons, the bridge itself is owned and maintained by the Corporation of London.
Thomas Telford's construction of Archway Road was originally intended to pass through Highgate Hill as a tunnel. However, the tunnel collapsed, leaving an inadvertent cutting through the hill. In 1813, John 'Nutter' Nash built a bridge, known as the Archway, to carry the ancient Hornsey Lane over the cutting. Between 1897 and 1900, Nash's bridge was replaced with the present cast-iron structure, officially called the "Hornsey Lane Bridge" but universally known as "Suicide Bridge". Suicide Bridge is, as the name would suggest, one of the world's most significant locations for suicides, and is the only significant suicide bridge to pass over land rather than water, which makes for a very messy landing. A sign on the Hornsey side suggests that if you are contemplating topping yourself you should; 'Take the Eastbourne train from Victoria and if you haven't already flung yourself out of the moving train in despair at passing through the living hell that is Three Bridges then you should alight at Eastbourne and take a cab to Beachy Head'.
Accessible from the Archway Road level by a steep flight of steps, Suicide Bridge, as one of the highest points in London, offers impressive views over London and is a popular spot for photographers.
Suicide Bridge marks the boundary between Islington and Haringey, and consequently the official boundary between Inner London and Outer London. Although technically the boundary runs down the centre of the bridge, in practice the bridge is treated as part of Haringey and the land beneath it as part of Islington. For historic reasons, the bridge itself is owned and maintained by the Corporation of London.
Friday 13 March 2009
Passive Smoking
Someone blowing a B&H in your face, inadvertently stubbing out a Rothmans on your hand or just fugging up the room with the heady blend of Silk Cut and Marlboro. Oh the joys of picking up my clothes from the night before and breathing in a heady mix of stale cigarettes and Chanel No.5...
Monday 9 March 2009
Gentlemen's Outfitters
The time is getting very close for me to pep up my wardrobe with a couple of new suits. Having previously had the overwhelming pleasure of enjoying the fine work of Mr Eddie and Chris Kerr and even the off peg elegance of Mr Paul Smith, I have started trawling the backstreets of Sydney to find a suitable replacement for my by now more time worn suits.
Sadly with no success. It seems that the nearest decent outfitters is in Rome. Although I have to confess to not having tried Bangkok or Hong Kong tailors yet. My gut feeling however is that they won't be up to the mark, especially for my proposed Harris Tweed suit - ideal for the subtropical climes! So, I shall have to wait until my trip back to blighty in July! Oh, didn't I mention the fact that I'm coming home?
Sadly with no success. It seems that the nearest decent outfitters is in Rome. Although I have to confess to not having tried Bangkok or Hong Kong tailors yet. My gut feeling however is that they won't be up to the mark, especially for my proposed Harris Tweed suit - ideal for the subtropical climes! So, I shall have to wait until my trip back to blighty in July! Oh, didn't I mention the fact that I'm coming home?
Friday 6 March 2009
Local theatre
Panto at Christmas, The Passion (or Pooh bear) at Easter, a murder mystery for the summer season, a chirpy musical for Autumn back round to Cinders at Yuletide. The clunk of seats, swish of the follow spots, rustle of sweet wrappers and smell of stale lavender. Nothing better than a bit of local theatre to remind you how good proper acting is...
Thursday 5 March 2009
Decent conversation
The problem with being an exile is one's reference points aren't the same and don't carry the same weight. This was brought sharply into focus in two cab journeys I had today. One with an Aussie/Indain taxi driver was perfectly straightforward and non-descript, the other was with a Cabbie who comes from Brighton (lived here 34 years), whose gently rolling Sussex tones, delighful perspective and self effacing humour made me instantly homesick. Don't get me wrong I love Australia, it and the people are wonderful but I do so miss decent, challenging and passionate conversation.
Monday 23 February 2009
Bar Italia
The beating heart of Soho, a fine place to go before work for a kick-starting Espresso, mid-morning for a hangover quelling Cappuccino or a late night latte. Also ideal to watch Serie A calcio.
Forza Bar Italia!!!
Forza Bar Italia!!!
Wednesday 18 February 2009
Self Deprecation
We English used to be so good at self deprecation. However, now I think the rest of the world are much better than us. Or is that just false modesty?
Thursday 12 February 2009
Silence
The silence that comes in the middle of the night. The silence that comes when the music has finished. The silence that comes at the end of a hard days writing!
Thursday 5 February 2009
Snow
As the Sydney mercury continues it's inexhorable rise to a forecast weekend high of 44 degrees. The images of London smothered in snow bring back beautiful memories of sliding on a beer tray down the wish tower, sliding the car all the way up the A1 and walking over suicide bridge at The Archway to look out over London.
Now, I'm not complaining about the sunshine but...
Now, I'm not complaining about the sunshine but...
Sunday 1 February 2009
Bill Frindall - RIP
The Bearded Wonder struck down with legionnaires disease, what is the world coming to? He was the rock around which the mavericks in the box (Johnners and Blowers) could conjure up joyous descriptions of the number 11 bus heading off down the Harleyford Road . Bearders knew more about the history of the game than most probably any man alive. A man of the game, steeped in its traditions, nuances and foibles. He will be missed by the millions of TMS fans around the world.
Friday 30 January 2009
John Martyn RIP
A brilliant guitarist, singer, songwriter and innovator. Anybody who wrote 'Solid Air' would be missed, anyone who also wrote 'May you never', 'Bless the weather' and 'One world' will be sorely missed.
Solid Air
You've been taking your time
And you've been living on solid air
You've been walking the line
And You've been living on solid air
Don't know what's going wrong inside
And I can tell you that it's hard to hide when you're living on
Solid air.
You've been painting it blue
And you've been looking through solid air
You've been seeing it through
And you've been looking through solid air
Don't know what's going wrong in your mind,
And I can tell you don't like what you find,
When you're moving through
Solid air.
I know you, I love you
And I could be your friend
I could follow you, anywhere
Even through solid air.
You've been stoning it cold
You've been living on solid air
You've been finding that gold
You've been living on solid air
I don't know what's going on inside
I can tell you that it's hard to hide
When you're living on
Solid air, solid air.
You've been getting too deep
You've been living on solid air
You've been missing your sleep
And you've been moving through solid air
I don't know what's going on in your mind
But I know you don't like what you find
When you're moving through
Solid air, solid air.
I know you, I love you
I'll be your friend
I could follow you, anywhere
Even through solid air.
You've been walking your line
You've been walking on solid air
You've been taking your time
But you've been walking on solid air
Don't know what's going wrong inside
But I can tell you that it's hard to hide
When you're living on
Solid air, solid air.
You've been painting it blue,
You've been living on solid air
You've been seeing it through
And you've been living on solid air
I don't know what's going on in your mind
But I can tell you don't like what you find
When your living on
Solid air, solid air.
I know you, I love you
And I'll be your friend
I could follow you, anywhere
Even through solid air.
Ice blue solid air
Nice blue solid air
Solid Air
You've been taking your time
And you've been living on solid air
You've been walking the line
And You've been living on solid air
Don't know what's going wrong inside
And I can tell you that it's hard to hide when you're living on
Solid air.
You've been painting it blue
And you've been looking through solid air
You've been seeing it through
And you've been looking through solid air
Don't know what's going wrong in your mind,
And I can tell you don't like what you find,
When you're moving through
Solid air.
I know you, I love you
And I could be your friend
I could follow you, anywhere
Even through solid air.
You've been stoning it cold
You've been living on solid air
You've been finding that gold
You've been living on solid air
I don't know what's going on inside
I can tell you that it's hard to hide
When you're living on
Solid air, solid air.
You've been getting too deep
You've been living on solid air
You've been missing your sleep
And you've been moving through solid air
I don't know what's going on in your mind
But I know you don't like what you find
When you're moving through
Solid air, solid air.
I know you, I love you
I'll be your friend
I could follow you, anywhere
Even through solid air.
You've been walking your line
You've been walking on solid air
You've been taking your time
But you've been walking on solid air
Don't know what's going wrong inside
But I can tell you that it's hard to hide
When you're living on
Solid air, solid air.
You've been painting it blue,
You've been living on solid air
You've been seeing it through
And you've been living on solid air
I don't know what's going on in your mind
But I can tell you don't like what you find
When your living on
Solid air, solid air.
I know you, I love you
And I'll be your friend
I could follow you, anywhere
Even through solid air.
Ice blue solid air
Nice blue solid air
Monday 12 January 2009
The Art of being an English Gentlemen (Part 4)
Up early, out late, Stout brogues, fine mohair number, appropriate shirt and foppish tie. Stroll through the woods. Catch a tube into town. Visit publishers, express surprise at lack of activity. Get taken for a long luxurious lunch down by the Thames. Demolish half a crate. Punch publisher. Walk off to Tate Gallery. Dance around the Rothko room. Declaim tragic verse from the top of the steps outside. Convince effervescent young thing to follow to the ends of the earth. Stop off in the White Swan on the way. Head into soho a couple of crispy whites later. Send effervescent young thing home exhausted but in rapture in the taxi. Lean against bar, brush away stray blonde hair, catch the eye of the barmaid. Take deep breath order a glass of something noisy and vow to get some sleep tomorrow...
Friday 2 January 2009
New Years Eve in Eastbourne
Running around from the Sussex Hotel to Bilbo's, Dewdrop, Dolphin, Frasco's. Nothing else to do but drink and wait for someone to discover where the party is. Then pile in the off-licence, pile in a car, pile out of the car, pile into the party, kiss the nearest girl at midnight and fall asleep in a pile at about 5 in the morning.
That'll be a small glimpse of paradise then!
That'll be a small glimpse of paradise then!
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