I went to the Andy Warhol exhibition in Edinburgh tody- it was fantastic. There were some lovely paintings he did for children of tacky tin toys, which I'd never seen before, and some beautiful drawings.
The Herald (a Scottish newspaper) did an article about the book and my music today, and I think the Guardian Woman's page will have something tomorrow.
I'm playing at Foakies in Infirmary Street tonight, with a sore throat (stress, you wouldn't believe my very private life at the moment)
And thank you Mike Slocombe for getting that pic to the Herald!
Heading to Newcastle tomorrow to drink my traditional litre of Tyne water.
If you believe that, you'll believe anything!
Tuesday, August 07, 2007
Monday, August 06, 2007
Lunch
Well, I'm away in Scotland visiting McMum and McDad. Came up via Blanchland, that lovely little Northumbrian village that used to be a monastery and that now boasts the fattest rabbits and the podgiest roses you've ever seen; and Druridge Bay, just soft fine sand as far as the eye can see. I remembered going on a trip there as a teenager when I went to Bellingham International Camp, and having disgusting mini pork pies for the third day running. I persuaded everyone to bury them deep in the sand. I expect they are fossilised by now.
McDad's computer is very slow, it's getting old, and that's why I haven't posted much.
Today, I'm goimg to a puppet show at the Netherbow, and some comedy thing later. I wanted to see the Trachtenberg Family but couldn't persuade anyone to come with me. Tomorrow evening, I'm playing at Foakies, which is in a pub called the Oaks on Infirmary Street in Edinburgh. It's unplugged, its three quid (I think) and there's a poet on too. See www.myspace.com/foakies for details.
Gotta go- taking the folks for lunch!
McDad's computer is very slow, it's getting old, and that's why I haven't posted much.
Today, I'm goimg to a puppet show at the Netherbow, and some comedy thing later. I wanted to see the Trachtenberg Family but couldn't persuade anyone to come with me. Tomorrow evening, I'm playing at Foakies, which is in a pub called the Oaks on Infirmary Street in Edinburgh. It's unplugged, its three quid (I think) and there's a poet on too. See www.myspace.com/foakies for details.
Gotta go- taking the folks for lunch!
Friday, August 03, 2007
Kilburn and Fleas
Thank you for your comment, Knife and Fork.
I remember when I used to live in a bedsit by myself in Kilburn, lying there listening to John Peel one night. He suddenly went off on one, saying 'There's nobody listening, is there? I'm just here rambling away to myself, and there's nobody really out there at all'.
I burst out laughing, because that's exactly what I was feeling at the time- like a solitary person in a box with a bed and a sink and a chest of drawers, listening to the only other person who happened to be alive in the whole world.
Well, today I'm heading north to Edinburgh to visit McMum and McDad and eat as much fudge as I can cram into my gob.
It's a lovely sort of a day, shame to be in a car but I loaded up the iPod last night with everything from Johnny Cash and Wanda Jackson to the Shaggs and even the Klaxons. Wnndows open, my fave road the A1 (you see I am a nerd in every aspect of life), Little Chefs, fakelyricking every song, megaflask (Stanley, no less!) of coffee, stop off in beautiful Northumberland for the night,
wot a wizz!
And I'm playing in Edinburgh at Foakies on Tuesday to boot. It's a bit dull being there at Fringe-time if you're not doing a show so I am gonna enjoy that. I have been playing some old songs; I still have a cold but the fresh sea air of Edinburgh (tempered by a cartload of diesel exhaust fumes from those tourist buses) might put paid to that.
Got to take the cats to the boarding cattery first- the cats and their millions of fleas. I will keep quiet about the fleas just in case they charge extra for boarding those too.
Actually, if you read back through this blog you will find rather a good story about fleas and West Hampstead. Never let it be said that I am not a cross-referencer!
I remember when I used to live in a bedsit by myself in Kilburn, lying there listening to John Peel one night. He suddenly went off on one, saying 'There's nobody listening, is there? I'm just here rambling away to myself, and there's nobody really out there at all'.
I burst out laughing, because that's exactly what I was feeling at the time- like a solitary person in a box with a bed and a sink and a chest of drawers, listening to the only other person who happened to be alive in the whole world.
Well, today I'm heading north to Edinburgh to visit McMum and McDad and eat as much fudge as I can cram into my gob.
It's a lovely sort of a day, shame to be in a car but I loaded up the iPod last night with everything from Johnny Cash and Wanda Jackson to the Shaggs and even the Klaxons. Wnndows open, my fave road the A1 (you see I am a nerd in every aspect of life), Little Chefs, fakelyricking every song, megaflask (Stanley, no less!) of coffee, stop off in beautiful Northumberland for the night,
wot a wizz!
And I'm playing in Edinburgh at Foakies on Tuesday to boot. It's a bit dull being there at Fringe-time if you're not doing a show so I am gonna enjoy that. I have been playing some old songs; I still have a cold but the fresh sea air of Edinburgh (tempered by a cartload of diesel exhaust fumes from those tourist buses) might put paid to that.
Got to take the cats to the boarding cattery first- the cats and their millions of fleas. I will keep quiet about the fleas just in case they charge extra for boarding those too.
Actually, if you read back through this blog you will find rather a good story about fleas and West Hampstead. Never let it be said that I am not a cross-referencer!
Thursday, August 02, 2007
Yours
In the doctor's waiting room I read an old-people's magazine called Yours (or something).
It was so sweet- they had sheet music and lyrics printed in the middle- people write in requesting music they can't find, and they find it and print it for them to play.
Us young hipsters have Mojo with the free CDs, and our nans and grandads have Yours with the sheet music.
Bless.
It was so sweet- they had sheet music and lyrics printed in the middle- people write in requesting music they can't find, and they find it and print it for them to play.
Us young hipsters have Mojo with the free CDs, and our nans and grandads have Yours with the sheet music.
Bless.
Going to North Carolina
I'm going to North Carolina to play on a porch!
Here come the blues! Or the yellows, because it will be brilliant!
Here come the blues! Or the yellows, because it will be brilliant!
Wednesday, August 01, 2007
I was boring yesterday, but I am interesting today
It's been all go.
Rentokil have been round, and found that rats are coming in the cat-flap, helping themselves to cat food, running round the back of the fridge and storing it under the kitchen units to feast on at their leisure. Cheeky blighters! (the rats, not the men from Rentokil). They covered the kitchen floor with sticky things to make the rats feet stick if they ran out, but they didn't. One of the cats walked over it and didn't stick. Maybe it was specialist rat adhesive.
The men told me about rats helping themselves to bread rolls and storing them in a false ceiling in a KFC in Wood Green or somewhere, and others nicking bags of crisps from a bar and piling them up behind a wall for later.
Maybe we should be training them to do useful things for us, dress them in little nappies so they don't make a mess, and give them a little respect for their intelligence.
Maybe not.
Apart from that I've just send three tracks to the Mad Professor who has probably forgotten me by now and won't like them anyway, but I gotta try. And I've begun a new song which will probably be another rockabilly one. I'm going to the guitar shop in a minute to see if they have a Danelectro footpedal to put a bit o' reverb on my guitar. I can't afford one at the moment but I can afford to daydream about one, and that's what I'll do. I'm also gonna drop off a CD to the blokes who fix my guitars (and those of the Chet Atkins Society and Chas from Chas and Dave- or was Dave from Dave and Chas? Do you think they argue because Chas's name comes first? Did they do it alphabetically? How did they decide to be Chas and Dave and not Charles and David? Shall we form a tribute band singing posh London songs and call ourselves that? Am I boring? No! Am I bored? Yes!!!)
The CD by the Young Marble Giants turned up yesterday. It's perfect for a sunny day, acually. I saw them in Hammersmith years ago and thought they were fantastic. At the time I was still a bass player and I loved the Moxham brother's bass sound. Up there with Andy Warren's. What a band!
Rentokil have been round, and found that rats are coming in the cat-flap, helping themselves to cat food, running round the back of the fridge and storing it under the kitchen units to feast on at their leisure. Cheeky blighters! (the rats, not the men from Rentokil). They covered the kitchen floor with sticky things to make the rats feet stick if they ran out, but they didn't. One of the cats walked over it and didn't stick. Maybe it was specialist rat adhesive.
The men told me about rats helping themselves to bread rolls and storing them in a false ceiling in a KFC in Wood Green or somewhere, and others nicking bags of crisps from a bar and piling them up behind a wall for later.
Maybe we should be training them to do useful things for us, dress them in little nappies so they don't make a mess, and give them a little respect for their intelligence.
Maybe not.
Apart from that I've just send three tracks to the Mad Professor who has probably forgotten me by now and won't like them anyway, but I gotta try. And I've begun a new song which will probably be another rockabilly one. I'm going to the guitar shop in a minute to see if they have a Danelectro footpedal to put a bit o' reverb on my guitar. I can't afford one at the moment but I can afford to daydream about one, and that's what I'll do. I'm also gonna drop off a CD to the blokes who fix my guitars (and those of the Chet Atkins Society and Chas from Chas and Dave- or was Dave from Dave and Chas? Do you think they argue because Chas's name comes first? Did they do it alphabetically? How did they decide to be Chas and Dave and not Charles and David? Shall we form a tribute band singing posh London songs and call ourselves that? Am I boring? No! Am I bored? Yes!!!)
The CD by the Young Marble Giants turned up yesterday. It's perfect for a sunny day, acually. I saw them in Hammersmith years ago and thought they were fantastic. At the time I was still a bass player and I loved the Moxham brother's bass sound. Up there with Andy Warren's. What a band!
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Too boring to blog
I'm beginning to wonder if I am too boring to do a blog any more. I used to be able to be boring in an interesting way, but not any longer, I don't think.
Maybe I should tell you a horror story about my past. Have I told you about the stabbing in our squat?
There was a couple from Newcastle upon Tyne who moved into the back room. They took a lot of downers and drank a lot of cider, and had regular physical and verbal fights. It was a noisy house anyway and it sort of blended in until one night there was a massive row and He went after Her with a carving knife. She managed to escape and ran into the nearest room, H's room, and the two of them barricaded themselves in with TG, the house Bob Dylan, with Him bashing the door with a hammer in his left had and the knife in his right.
I think my definition of vulnerability has always been, since then, standing on the landing in my pyjamas with a maniac doing that downstairs, no telephone contact with the outside world and living in a house full of outlaws.
Anyway, TG opened the door suddenly and He fell into the room, slicing TG's cheek as he fell.
They managed to overpower him and disarm him, get the police, and restore a bit of peace to the house. She refused to testify against Him, so we threw them out- it was too scary to wait to see what happened the next time they fought.
Urgh.
There were funny things too. My room was next to the bathroom, which consisted of a toilet and a sink with a cold tap; somehow the lever on the toilet picked up an electircal charge (I think it must have leaked on to the wires) and the first evening it happened, one-by-one you could hear the house dwellers doing their business, sighing, and then yelping 'F*CK!!!' as they grabbed the handle to flush with unprotected hands, getting a strong electric shock in the process.
We did put a sign up, but of course there was no lightbulb, was there? Someone had nicked it for their room.
Maybe I should tell you a horror story about my past. Have I told you about the stabbing in our squat?
There was a couple from Newcastle upon Tyne who moved into the back room. They took a lot of downers and drank a lot of cider, and had regular physical and verbal fights. It was a noisy house anyway and it sort of blended in until one night there was a massive row and He went after Her with a carving knife. She managed to escape and ran into the nearest room, H's room, and the two of them barricaded themselves in with TG, the house Bob Dylan, with Him bashing the door with a hammer in his left had and the knife in his right.
I think my definition of vulnerability has always been, since then, standing on the landing in my pyjamas with a maniac doing that downstairs, no telephone contact with the outside world and living in a house full of outlaws.
Anyway, TG opened the door suddenly and He fell into the room, slicing TG's cheek as he fell.
They managed to overpower him and disarm him, get the police, and restore a bit of peace to the house. She refused to testify against Him, so we threw them out- it was too scary to wait to see what happened the next time they fought.
Urgh.
There were funny things too. My room was next to the bathroom, which consisted of a toilet and a sink with a cold tap; somehow the lever on the toilet picked up an electircal charge (I think it must have leaked on to the wires) and the first evening it happened, one-by-one you could hear the house dwellers doing their business, sighing, and then yelping 'F*CK!!!' as they grabbed the handle to flush with unprotected hands, getting a strong electric shock in the process.
We did put a sign up, but of course there was no lightbulb, was there? Someone had nicked it for their room.
Monday, July 30, 2007
Ghost Holiday Village
Well, I went to Pagham this weekend. What a strange place! The beach was weird- very second-world-war-ish, looking like a garden with uniformly smooth pebbles and succulent and prickly grey-green plants planted at tasteful intervals.
We were wandering round all these little deserted streets of holiday homes in various states of disrepair, imagining what ghosts lived there (there were very few real live people). Ghosts of scoutmasters, retired naval officers with big moustaches an tattoos, little old ladies in twinsets and pearls- there was a house for everyone, some completely tumbledown, some that looked as though they had been transplated direct from the Algarve. We were sure that all the inhabitants were old, rickety spectres, anyway, until a very healthy-looking blonde woman swept into one of the driveways in a 4x4.
Oh well, the game was a larf anyway, and the fish'n'chips were perfect. This photograph is of a garden that obviously belongs to a ghost with far too much leisure time; however, it's better to be an obsessive hedge-clipper rather than berating your retired ghost wife, I suppose.
Friday, July 27, 2007
My Book is Expensive
I don't want anyone to buy my book if they haven't got much money. Order it from a library (they will get it for you) or wait for the paperback (maybe write to the publisher, Ashgate, and ask if they are going to produce one). It's a dense read, has no pictures and is quite political about things. Although there are some great interviews! I wanted to be able to say what I wanted to say without a publisher saying that it had to be commercial. All that stuff has been said before in picture-books with sexy punklets, and I didn't want to write one of them, even though I might have got ricjh on the proceeds.
The BBC website's not working proerly so I haven't been bale to listen to the Woman's Hour broadcast but I am sure I'll survive without it. Thank you to the people who sent texts- that was very exciting!
I have some leaflets that give a 25% reduction in price before August and if you email me with a land address I will post one to you: helen_mccookerybook@yahoo.co.uk
Umm... oh yes! I have that gig at Viva Viva on Sunday evening, do come and if you get there before 8 I will have the reduced-price drink and food tickets. I still have a cough so I might be barking out the songs a bit but I'm going to the seaside tomorrow for the day and perhaps the sea air will clear it up. Meanwhile I'm swiggin' back the Benilyn Chesty Coughs Non-Drowsy, poppin' the aspirins, and will deffo be playing new songs that night.
Toodle-pip!!
The BBC website's not working proerly so I haven't been bale to listen to the Woman's Hour broadcast but I am sure I'll survive without it. Thank you to the people who sent texts- that was very exciting!
I have some leaflets that give a 25% reduction in price before August and if you email me with a land address I will post one to you: helen_mccookerybook@yahoo.co.uk
Umm... oh yes! I have that gig at Viva Viva on Sunday evening, do come and if you get there before 8 I will have the reduced-price drink and food tickets. I still have a cough so I might be barking out the songs a bit but I'm going to the seaside tomorrow for the day and perhaps the sea air will clear it up. Meanwhile I'm swiggin' back the Benilyn Chesty Coughs Non-Drowsy, poppin' the aspirins, and will deffo be playing new songs that night.
Toodle-pip!!
Thursday, July 26, 2007
A labrador's nose and a donkey's cough
I can't go to Offline tonight (www.urban75.com click on Offline) as I have the horrid summer cold and feel like merde.
The thing is, about 40 ukeleles are playing. What crap to miss that!
Please could somebody send me a report?
I have asked them to be my Myspace friends so I can keep an eye on them (I've seen the Ukelele Orchestra of Great Britain at the South Bank before but this lot write their own songs)
But I'm busy creating a snottytissuemountain at the moment
Plus I missed the Radio 4 broadcast this morning and the site's not letting me listen at the moment
And
I've finished all the walnut whips (should have seen my white walnut whip moustache!)
But
I don't mind the rain
Upon my window pane
It soaks my mane
It cools my brane
It keeps me sane
Stops and starts agane
O weathervane
What are these
Black dots?
The cats have flese
Lots and lots!
(and lots)
Atishooooooooo!
The thing is, about 40 ukeleles are playing. What crap to miss that!
Please could somebody send me a report?
I have asked them to be my Myspace friends so I can keep an eye on them (I've seen the Ukelele Orchestra of Great Britain at the South Bank before but this lot write their own songs)
But I'm busy creating a snottytissuemountain at the moment
Plus I missed the Radio 4 broadcast this morning and the site's not letting me listen at the moment
And
I've finished all the walnut whips (should have seen my white walnut whip moustache!)
But
I don't mind the rain
Upon my window pane
It soaks my mane
It cools my brane
It keeps me sane
Stops and starts agane
O weathervane
What are these
Black dots?
The cats have flese
Lots and lots!
(and lots)
Atishooooooooo!
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Woman's Hour
The Woman's Hour broadcast featuring interviews with the Lost Women will be broadcast on BBC Radio 4 this Thursday!
The A Box
Today I was telling a songwriter friend about the A Box. Paul Davey, who played sax with Helen and the Horns, is very good at electronics. We discovered that the best note for all the Horns to tune to was A, and he made a little brown plastic box with holes in the top and one chrome switch. When you switched the switch on, the little box played concert A. When you switched it off, it stopped. When the battery ran out, it simply stopped working, instead of playing a note that wasn't A, and confusing everybody.
Once, we were round the trombonist's house yakking. There was a persistent hum and we couldn't work out what it was and where it was coming from. We'd manage to forget about it, then it would start irritating us all over again. Finally, we realised that the A box had managed to switch itself on inside the trombonist's trombone case and it had been playing A to itself all evening.
Once, we were round the trombonist's house yakking. There was a persistent hum and we couldn't work out what it was and where it was coming from. We'd manage to forget about it, then it would start irritating us all over again. Finally, we realised that the A box had managed to switch itself on inside the trombonist's trombone case and it had been playing A to itself all evening.
Monday, July 23, 2007
Conversation
On the tube, today:
Man: You look like that woman off Eastenders, don'tcha?
Me: Do I? Which one? I don't watch it.
Man: Neither do I.
Man: You look like that woman off Eastenders, don'tcha?
Me: Do I? Which one? I don't watch it.
Man: Neither do I.
Life's rich and complex jigsaw
I saw this lady on the DLR today and thought she had a wonderful face, and had to photograph her.
What sort of weekend was it? Unusual!
1. I did an interview for The Herald (a Scottish newspaper) about the book and the gig at Foakies on 7th August, while climbing Salisbury Crags just outside Edinburgh
2. I went for a unique biriyani in Ross-shire
3. I was given a four-leaf clover that had been pressed between the pages of a Bible
4. I got a text from Gina saying she'd bought me a ukelele at a festival in Cornwall!
As for today... well, the books had been sent to the University of East London so I went there to collect them- I could only manage to carry back five. Then I went to look in the Vivienne Westwood shop; my friend Carol Alevroyianni is a photographer and she wants to take pictures of all of her friends wearing a dress they love but can not afford, tried on in the changing room in the shop. So that's where I'm going, as soon as I look nice enough to photograph!
By the way, Caroline Coon's speech from the Lost Women party is at http://www.carolinecoon.com/news.htm
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Just William
I spoke to Steve Beresford yesterday- on Tuesday Shirley Raincoat showed me a picture of the burned-down University of Westminster and I was worried about Steve's things- his books, his paper record-players, his odd instruments in strange shaped cases (we always used to speculate but were too polite to unzip-and-look). He was happy- all his stuff was OK, and he has a lorra gigs coming up and I must go and see him play. Probably at Boat Ting in September, because I like that boat.
My 5 years worth of Q magazines has gone, I think.
Today I'm going to Scotland to see McDad who is not well. My car's smashed up again, and is going to Casualty; before it goes I'll take out the Just William tapes to play to McDad. They are the funniest things you have ever heard- the narrator is Martin Jarvis and his impersonation of pompous middle aged women is so hilarious it makes you choke on your clotted cream scone. I've listened to them hundreds of times on long journeys and they are just as funny the hundredth time as they were the first. What a genius Richmal Crompton was- the stories are like perfect little songs or drawn-out jokes, all tied up neatly at the end with William winning, in spite of everything he makes go wrong.
I think I would like to have been William.
My 5 years worth of Q magazines has gone, I think.
Today I'm going to Scotland to see McDad who is not well. My car's smashed up again, and is going to Casualty; before it goes I'll take out the Just William tapes to play to McDad. They are the funniest things you have ever heard- the narrator is Martin Jarvis and his impersonation of pompous middle aged women is so hilarious it makes you choke on your clotted cream scone. I've listened to them hundreds of times on long journeys and they are just as funny the hundredth time as they were the first. What a genius Richmal Crompton was- the stories are like perfect little songs or drawn-out jokes, all tied up neatly at the end with William winning, in spite of everything he makes go wrong.
I think I would like to have been William.
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