Friday, June 22, 2018

Punk Rocka, 1978


Several hours of writing and editing today after meeting the series editor, and my former PhD supervisor, in Hastings on Wednesday. I did a first draft edit a couple of weeks ago and this is the second time around. It's very absorbing: now it is mostly to do with structure and style. The only time I stop working is when the computer runs out of juice and I have to recharge it.
Why not bring the charger upstairs? Probably because it's good to take  break from time to time.
Meanwhile, the sound for the documentary is being cleaned up by our intern, and we should get a  chance to listen to that next week.
I have never worked so hard before in my life- at least not since the Offsprogs were small and I had a full time job as well as being a Mum to two children under the age of five.
Blimey, I remember those days!
Having a sabbatical that runs out in July, and having an intern whose contract runs out at the end of next week, have concentrated matters greatly. I've still had loads of marking to do as well, and some teaching too. I think it would feel stressful, except for the fact that gigging keeps me sane, and also there is the feeling that I'll have a sense of achievement when all this has finished. The book started in 2011, and the documentary in 2015; it will be great if I/we can finish both this year and move on to new things. I have been invited to do more writing for academic publications; at the moment, running a hundred miles has more appeal, but it's an honour not to be taken lightly and things will feel different once this book is off the computer and on its way to the editor.
In anticipation of finishing all this off, I'm starting to book gigs for the autumn; by then I hope to have a box of vinyl singles in the living room. That will be very exciting.

Thursday, June 21, 2018

Interview for Loud Women Gig, 14th July

It was lovely to meet Cassie, and Concrete Bones (thanks for taking this pic)- looking forward very much to the gig at the Hope and Anchor, headlined by Tokyo Taboo.
It was bloody hot down there in that basement yesterday: fringe curl alert!

Interruption, Mining and Bypassing

Every time my Smartphone updates it's operating system, it gets harder to take information from it (like photographs, notes and music) without engaging with the internet. And of course, every time a user engages with the internet, your content is intercepted, mined and stored without your consent.
I've dusted off my digital camera; I use a dictaphone to record interviews, and now I have started carrying a notebook again to write things down in.
I only want to share what I want to share, with people who I want to share it with, don't you?

Saturday, June 16, 2018

Father's Day

More than ten years Dad, and I still want to phone you for a chat. I miss you.

The Song of the Landsman's Soul

Till the soil in the morning
Plant a seed in the sun
Dig your troubles into the earth 
To dissolve when the day is done
Start the day with a smile
Watch the future begin to unfurl
Till the soil in the morning
Sing of the Landsman’s soul.

Till the soil in the daytime
In the heat of the midday sun
Helping hand for the green shoots 
Whose journey has just begun
Start the day with a smile
Watch the future begin to unfurl
Till the soil in the daytime
Sing of the Landsman’s soul.

Seasons pass; a living painting is not meant to last
Here and now, the fragile beauty that blooms in a  flower, in a  flower.

Till the soil in the evening
Rose gold blush in the sky
Close your eyes in the sunset
At the end of a harvest day
Your started each day with a smile
You watched the future begin to unfurl
Till the soil in the evening
Sing of a Landsman’s soul.

Seasons pass; a living painting is not meant to last
Here and now, the fragile beauty that blooms in a  flower, in a  flower.

Till the soil in the evening

Sing of the Landsman’s soul.


Just spent an hour cleaning the fridge. Hell on earth.

Friday, June 15, 2018

The Fiddler's Elbow: Northern Soul on a Friday Night

Linda Yarwood and Kevin Birchall, DJ-ing at The Fiddler's Elbow in Camden, and filling the dance floor. All vinyl, and all good stuff!

Grenfell Tower

It is so massively frustrating reading about the Conservatives fighting and posturing over leaving the EU, as though all that matters is their stupid political party. Meanwhile, it seems as though the entire United Kingdom is collapsing underneath them. They are supposed to be a government, not a group of teenagers squabbling in a boarding school common-room. They are supposed to represent all of us, not just themselves and their face-saving and money-grabbing behaviour.
Sorry, it's the Grenfell thing.
Normally I don't post my political opinions because reading other people's rants is boring; but the complete disrespect that has been shown to this group of residents of the capital city of England is completely impossible to comprehend.
I don't know if you have been past that building but it is the largest tombstone in the world- it is utterly desolate. It stands there and makes you want to scream with the horror of it all. It's a burned-out skeleton of a place that is a monument to everything that is wrong with the greed that wracks property development, and the profits that are made in large British urban areas by landlords who think money is just so much more important than human beings.
Oh, how dignified the survivors and relatives have been! They must be so very, very angry, mixed up with feelings of terrible bereavement and loss. Meanwhile, the rest of us feel completely impotent. And actually, ashamed: we can do better than this, surely?


I can't find my newest earrings anywhere. I tried 'Find' on the laptop, but that didn't work.

In The Thunderbolt Garden

This is Rocker, who runs Dandelion Radio. We recorded some songs yesterday lunchtime (I think we did five) and Tim Rippington took this photo; he says it looks as though we're in a garden centre.
Rocker sports a t-shirt with the new name of the multiply-nomenclatured Charlie Tipper Band, many of who were in attendance last night and it was lovely to see them- I miss doing stuff with them. There were so many of them that band members seemed to appear and disappear every time you blinked.
Big thanks to Jane Barnes for putting the gig on- and choosing such excellent bands to play the night. Pearls had delicate, ethereal songs with lovely minimal drums and gentle interplay between the cello and the vocal; Bush and Fey's songs interrogated middle-aged manhood with ruthless humour and a surprising amount of tender perception.
Good audience too- up for a bit of singing along, even at the very end. Thank you.
I am knackered (that's why my hair is hanging round my face, so I can hide in it). Back home, I'm slumped in a chair but Kevin and Linda are down from Congleton doing Northern Soul, so I'm going to have a siesta. Best physical therapy for a body wracked with pain after carting a guitar around for miles- a bloody good dance!
A demain, tout le monde.
P.S.  I 💕 The Thunderbolt. 
Where else does the venue owner hoover the stage carpet before the gig starts?