Adventure

After work at the University of the East, I shall hop into my car and drive up to Bradford for a gig at Yo Yo restaurant in Shipley.
What an adventure!
I'm driving back afterwards, a proper truckdrivin' girl, and I will probably sleep all day tomorrow.
I have got clementines to eat and a bottle of Day Nurse to drink because I am on the edge of a streaming cold which I'm praying doesn't kick in till the weekend when I can laze and snivel to my heart's content.
It's very exciting to go off on an expedition by myself like this, but I'm trying to slow my excitement motor down a little so I can pace myself until the journey is finished.
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News

I put the finished version of Memento Mori with cello and fiddle on it, up on Myspace a second ago.
I am playing in Shipley tomorrow!

Cold Poem by the River

I had a long drive back from Chollerford to Docklands yesterday, almost seven hours, but I was in such a good mood; it was a weekend of animators, teachers and musicians, with facilitators and motivators, all bubbling away. I had to miss the last morning; it was so difficult to tear myself away because they made a film with music and I heard that everybody loved it!
The whole experience was a bit like being part of a ball of gas just about to turn into a planet, or perhaps a planet just about to turn into a ball of gas. Probably, I shouldn't write more about it; I don't want to break any spells.But I do have one strong abiding memory- standing by the river with a chilly bunch of people, singing, looking at the sky in the cold sunshine and one of the people( Robson Green lookalike, you know who you are!) just saying
'Well, I thought,
Quick fish
Silver in the river
Pink on my dish'

East, west, I'm blest

Songwriters of the West yesterday, songwriters of the East today; I'm exhausted. I lost my glasses yesterday (had to go up the library and buy a pair for 9 quid this morning), and today I put my watch on upside down and could not work out why the numbers looked so strange and the hands were not pointing remotely where they were supposed to be.
But it's all very enjoyable, you know, sitting in rooms full of ideas.
Bliss!
Tomorrow, I have a day off, to pack to go to Chollerford, which will be really exciting!
I'll tell you more about it tomorrow, on my day off.

In which I am incredibly brave

I was conscious of a bit of fluff or something in my hair this morning but I carried on with the routine, cup of tea, etc etc etc
Until I went to the bathroom and saw that the bit of fluff (which had seemed to be moving) was actually one of those humungously massive spiders, and was on my collar, just next to my neck.
At other times in my life I have had a terrible, terrible phobia about spiders (it's a family thing; Little Bruv lost all faith in Santa Claus when given a wibbly-wobbly plastic one with long legs all wrapped up in cheery paper from Santa's sack; and McDad delivered a scolding sermon once about how silly we were to be so petrified, then shuddered so much is teeth rattled).
But today, I calmly (almost) brushed it into the sink, and not only that, gently fished it out on a bit of bog paper and gently, yes, gently, no throwing, put it on the floor to scuttle away to safety.
Wasn't that brave?

My brain rewarded me with a little jokelet.
What's another name for a Siamese cat?
A cat of many colours.

P.S. Once my cat, Tiger, was crunching up the juicy body of a biggie, and its legs fell out of his mouth on to the lino. I swear they clattered as they hit the floor!

Last Monday

What a lovely gig last night! It had been tempting to blow it out cos I was so knackered, but I went anyway and was glad. Peter Knight was hovering on the doorstep and that's always a good sign. His friend Hannah came (she's a cello player to add to my arsenal of cellists) and a couple of guys who are Daintees fans really, but like Suburban Pastoral and so they came to listen to me. So I was chuffed to have some people to see me play.
First on was Ingrid Andrews, who had a lovely all-ages band that included a mandolin player, two guitarists (and her too) and a tabla player who turned up just in time for the last song. Her songs are gentle rambles, not punchy or catchy, but very dreamy and introverted. Her band loves her music- they seemed together even though, as she admitted, they were under-rehearsed. But they all seemed very contented to be there. Ingrid is an older artist, and she is very determined and dedicated, and her spirit is admirable.
Next up was Apache John, a 3-piece; once again, good-humoured, but very different musically. I think they were a busking band- he had a guitarist/uke player, and his wife on the floor drum (it was utterly sweet the way she sang along to every song and smiled to herself at the funny bits). It was as though they had been plonked straight into 2008 from the sixties, without experiencing any of those life horrors that turn people into nasty cynics. Their songs were really catchy and they were very tight- you could tell because it all seemed so simple but if you watched carefully you could see all sorts of quite complicated musical stuff going on.
Then there was me- not too bad considering my lack of sleep altho' I messed up Heaven Avenue and rescued it again. Sorry Daintees fan who is a prude and didn't realise Heaven Avenue was a drugs song!
Lastly, Guitar Fever played- two very competent guitarists who played blues-flavoured songs very skilfully.
But I only managed to listen to three songs before completely flaking out and driving home in a contented daze, thankfully on the right side of the road.
It was a perfect night for a January evening, warm and relaxed, in spite of the fact that Hannah knocked over a bench and five minutes later I knocked over a pint of water. I like the Cross Kings- I'm sure it was a youth club in another life.

Hippo

I only got an hour's sleep last night; appalling, but luckily it doesn't happen that often.
Paul, the sax player, has a huge browny-orange plastic hippo at his house. It's completely incongruous, and I asked him about it.
Apparently, he used to work with an exceptionally moody and bad tempered man, who could ruin everybody's day within five minutes of entering the office.
So he bought the hippo; if the hippo was facing to the right, everybody in the office knew that moodyandbadtempered was behaving true to form- don't bother asking any favours. If the hippo was facing to the left, moodyandbadtempered was in a rare sunny mood, and it was worth communicating with him.
Everybody in the office knew about the hippo's secret signals apart fom moodyandbadtempered, who picked it up one day, looked at it in puzzlement, and put it back down again- facing the same way.

Tomorrow Night at the Cross Kings

At last, a gig, to take my mind off the series of Nasty Surprises.
I couldn't tell you all of them; one of them was so awful it doesn't belong on a positive blog!
Some good things have happened as a result of the chaos: a friend very generously gave me their old mobile phone and I got a new sim card; in getting touch with people to reconstruct the directory of numbers, I heard news from a few people I might never have heard. And losing all those songs.. well, it's been really stimulating and I wrote another one last night. The Myspace thing continues to be weird, in that I've vanished from several people's profiles but not from others and I have no idea whose. But at least it is back!

I am so looking forward to what I like best, singing.
It's at a pub called The Cross Kings, St Pancras Way, King's Cross and I'm on at 9.30. They do nice cheap food.
I will be wearing my best clothes.
All life is celebration when you have a run of bad luck to put things into focus!
YAH YAH YAH YAY!!!!!!!

It's back!

Wahey! My Myspace page is back- there were spams going back to November in the inbox, so I think someone has been doing something weird with it. I hope it stays now because I missed it. How sad! My electronic crutch!

Testing a pic

I've looked on all the memory sticks etc that I have to try to find the content of the lost Myspace page, in case they can't or won't put it back.
I will have to start from scratch, practically. I tried to make this photo black and white (I must have done it on some other scanner I think) but could only manage sepia. This is a test upload to see it it comes up with the little pPreview controls on it or not.

Haunted Castle and Teen Angst

I wrote a song when I was 14 called Haunted Castle. I was very proud of it and I played it to my music teacher at school; she declared 'You did not write that song' and just carried on with the lesson.
I know I have mentioned this before; but it comes back sometimes and is probably behind my personal mission to encourage people to write songs regardless of whether people think they should or not, and to become confident by doing so.
I've lost the words of the song, lost them ages ago, but I can remember the melody and the chords, and at the moment I'm trying things out with different chords, having become rather bogged down by the beauty of A major seventh. I started a song earlier this week and have sent it to Martin to finish; now I think I will revamp Haunted Castle and see what happens.
I had been hoping to upload some new songs on to Myspace, especially to replace the Christmas Queen (which was still being played, even though Christmas is but a distant memory).

Also when I was 14, I taught myself to play It's Too Late by Carol King on the piano. I could only play Christmas Carols (well, only one, the First Nowell) but I liked that song so much I listened to it and worked out the chords and practiced it until I could play an approximation of the song to wail along to.
When everyone in our family (big, noisy and nosey) left the house, I used to sit there and caterwaul my way through it, feeling very sorry for myself in that way that only teenagers can.
One particularly dramatic day, eyes closed in misery, I was howling 'Its too late baybee nowow, it's too late...' when I was aware of a presence in the room.
It was Mrs Hibbert, with her pale grey perm, winged specs, pink lipsticky lips and tweed skirt, shopper over her arm, standing next to the piano having let herself in the back door to see if she could get a cup of tea and a gossip from McMum.
'Eee man Helen man, that was lovely pet', (Geordie) she twittered happily, completely unaware of my shame at being caught out wallowing in my adolescent grief.
I've gone red now, even thinking about it.

Old Jumper

I have had a letter from Myspace. I wonder if they'll be able to give me my space back? I do hope so.
Well, I really enjoyed the evening at the Institute of Musical Research- I had been nervous but the crew were friendly and made it easy. Afterwards, Katharine, the organiser, took us to a Sicilian Restaurant, where my grey fake fur coat gave one of the waitresses a horrid static-electric shock.
I'm sorry!
Tomorrow I am going to have a lazy day. Socks, not shoes; old jumper; no earrings; sitting on the floor with guitar, not sitting in a chair with a book; curry on toast, not bananas and blueberries.
I have missed the launch party of The Society of Imaginary Friends CD; I shall attend in my imagination, and talk to my spectral friends through wisps of fantasy.
Over the next couple of months, nice things will be happening; the weekend after next, I am off to Northumberland for a brainstorming experience, featuring a motion-capture animator, a choreographer and the man who illustrates Bob the Builder, amongst others; the next month, a songwriting project involving my old primary school (I think). Songwritng in Scotland; gigs in Glasgow, Yorkshire and Newcastle, amongst other places (o Myspace, where art thou?). Tom is mixing the album (I hope).
Next gig is Monday, at the Cross Kings, St Pancras Way, King's Cross; I'm playing at 9.30

By the way, did you know where Dutch pigs come from?
Hamsterdam

Myspace Gone

Well, I woke up this morning and my Myspace page had completely disappeared.
I know I had some gig info on there and contacts and if you are looking at this blog trying to contact me, my email address is helen_mccookerybook@yahoo.co.uk, and I will gladly reinstate friendships when I start it up again. I have heard of this happening to someone before.
That's also the address to contact to buy 'Suburban Pastoral' for now and to arrange gigs.
It's the third nasty surprise in a matter of days.
This weekend I will try to set up a new Myspace site but will not trust feeble technology again, and definitely not rely on it, because my mobile phone loss has been a bit of a bggr.

Talk about The Lost Women of Rock Music

On Thursday this week at 5 p.m. I am doing a talk about my book at the University of London. It starts at 5 p.m. and goes on till 6.30 although I will possibly run out of steam before then.
The url is www.music.sas.ac.uk
It si free to come along and I have been told I can bring my fan club.
Have I got one?
Probably not

Kilburn

I went to see Treacle and Charlotte today in Kilburn; it was weird driving down Kingsgate Road where The Chefs used to rehearse (in the night thunderstorms I used to phone from the house where I lived in Willesden to wake them up, 'cos the cellar where we kept our equipment filled up with water).
The iPod was gently playing Rosetta Tharp and Merle Travis.
Treacle showed me her recycled jewellery- excellent. I think she should make a website to sell it from and also take it to the V & A; Debbi Little's making some recycled dresses for them and I think they might like Treacle's stuff too.
Treacle and Charlotte used to live in that mad house with me. Ruth and Little Claire lived there too and we all dyed our hair black. I was tall and they were small and Andy Fellowes (the handy fellow who taught us all how to fix our electricity meters) said I was mummy duck and they were the ducklings.
Quack.
Anyway, I drove back past the Railway Tavern, where the Moonlight Club once was (I used to go every night, by myself, when we weren't playing there and must have seen hundreds of bands). It's right next to West Hampstead tube station, where the West Hamsters come from, which is next station on from Swiss Cottage, where the Cheese comes from.

Fact: Decca Records had a studio next to the Railway and used to feed cables from there into the pub, to record people like John Mayall in the 1960s playing live.