The March

I am not on the March against the 100% Government cuts. I will be on the next one.
I have been too ill and I am frightened of ending up somewhere I can not get back from, but I support the protesters 100%.
Our bosses do too, but I don't think they are marching; they are relying on those who are, to protect their jobs ( frankly, a bit like me today!)
Another thing is that tomorrow, as every Thursday, I will be working a ten hour day sandwiched between to one-and-a-half-hour commutes. It takes me a week to recover (I teach Tuesdays and Fridays as well and do freelance work and motherhood in between).
All because I am worried about losing my job.
Luckily (!) the laptop I use for work is poorly and is not here, so there are parts of my work I can't do.
The feeling of inconvenience and the related stress are counterbalanced by the glee that I simply can't proceed with some of the urgent stuff. For today, life has slowed down to an unpressured pace and I am even going to do some singing: I have a gig supporting Martin at Whelan's in Dublin on Friday and another at The Perseverance on Saturday which Martin will be coming along to. For gig dates see www.reverbnation.com/helenmccookerybook
I'm giving Myspace a rest for a couple of weeks as it crashes my laptop.

I'm trying to drum up the energy to complain to the Crown Prosecution Service after the three magistrates who tried Offsprog Two's attackers decided not to try the main culprit, as his defence barrister argued that because of his low IQ, he was too suggestible to stand trial.
We were allowed to talk to them afterwards; we had discovered that the young offender was on his last offence before a custodial sentence and that a judge had thrown out the doctor's evidence at a previous trial.
We pointed out to the magistrates that they had released a habitual offender, probably a knife carrier (Offsprog Two's bag straps were slashed) who, if he was a suggestible as his defence barrister said, could quite possibly seriously injure or kill his victim next time.
Because he was neither convicted nor acquitted, we could not ask for a restraining order to prevent him from harassing her again, as he had after the crime.
How do I feel? A combination of anger and fear for Offsprog Two's safety.
How does she feel? 'I'm going to get stabbed.'

I'm at work; the traffic is whooshing past in the rain three floors down and the window is jammed open so the wind is interfering with the sick building aroma of the room. Grey carpets, grey desks, grey minds too this morning.
Even out of this grisly environment, flowers blossom, and none more so than Jamie McDermot.
In yesterday's newspaper, two pages were devoted to him and his band the Irrepressibles, an incarnation of whom I accompanied on an overnight trip to Liverpool to enter a song writing competition. In some ways I'm glad they didn't win (I thought they were too good) because Jamie's resolve strengthened and focused.
We first met when I interviewed him for a place at the University of the West, and when he came on to the course he instantly became a catalyst, organising gigs, buzzing, sharing... he was the person who made me get my guitar, covered in dust, out from under my bed and start playing it again!
He has got a beautiful singing voice, sometimes compared to Antony Hegarty's, but Antony's voice is frail and vulnerable, whereas Jamie's is strong and certain, even when he is singing about uncertain things. He thinks about politics and beauty, and sings about both with the most exquisite poetry.
He is going to be very successful, and I am absolutely delighted.

Detox

Pak Choi, ginger, almonds, a dash of live yogurt.
Now I'm off out to get myself a Mars Bar.

Potential Title for Non-MOR Album

She Disnae Dae Disney

Benjamin Rabier

The post-it notes have reached epidemic proportions again; I need to get out more, perhaps.
Gradually I'm starting to feel better.
I was looking for things to sell to make space, and I found this book.
McDad had two books by Benjamin Rabier- a copy of this and another featuring the smart goose, Gedeon.
I bought this a few years ago, but it's actually different from McDad's copy, which McMum gave to me with the Gedeon book; they are so clever and they are completely inspiring.
My favourite picture is missing from this one: it's of a weary monkey, obviously exhausted from days and days of travel on foot. The monkey has heavy bags, and can't carry on much longer. What a delight! The monkey sees, just over the brow of the hill, what appears to be two pitched roofs and a smoking chimney. At last! A house! (You see this all in one frame).
At the top of the hill, the monkey sees that this illusion has been created from the tips of the ears of a placid elephant as he sits in the middle of the road with a pipe, blowing the smoke upwards, his trunk held aloft.
So this book will be going on eBay, perhaps. The problem is that I know people take books like this to pieces, frame the individual pages, and make a fortune. My moral dilemma is whether I should do this myself. I can't bear the idea of picking a book to bits, but it's cover seems to have been damaged by water at some point.

I guess I will have to hang on to it a bit longer....

Alldayer Photos

Photos of the Punkbrighton Alldayer here http://punkbrighton.co.uk/alldayer.html

Kittens

On a steep slope, a reservation between busy sections of the complex motorway in northern France, a posse of kittens gambolled happily in the warm sunshine, oblivious to the fact that their owners had dumped them there, unwanted.

Recording: Kath and Jude

Hilaire Belloc

Yippee! a book by Hilaire Belloc, the writer of cautionary tales, landed on the doormat today.
That's what I shall read this evening!

Friday Reds

What's that?
The opposite of the blues!
I didn't post yesterday's sad complaint about my nine-hour working day with a two-hour journey either side of it. I am finding work extremely difficult at the moment especially because I just can not shake of this virus, which means I'm going to miss Treacle and Charlotte's fiftieth birthday party tomorrow- HAPPY BIRTHDAY YOU TWO!- and probably won't be going to see any fireworks anywhere, but in my imagination, in my imagination...
Because of enforced homeness, I am suffering from televisionitis, and starting to like/dislike TV celebrities, which is actually completely pointless.
Last night's problem was Nigella Lawson.
Offsprog Two watches her partly out of fascination (she says she feels sorry for her) but I can't stand to be in the same room as that voice, that licking, and that odd illuminated smilingnness-into-the-fridge which I actually find frightening (a bit like The Laughing Policeman by Charles Penrose, the most terrifying record of all time with it's fake and uncontrollable glee).
So I had to stand in the kitchen for half an hour until it was over.
Tonight, it's QI, which I used to tolerate, but I'm damned if that monster Stephen Fry is going to be allowed into my living room again; I am devising a Fry-avoidance activity as we speak.
Shall it be a packet of marshmallows all to myself? A session with the guitar on the sofa?
I'm not sure but I am sure something constructive can be done.

The Chefs Photograph

Peter has just sent me a link to this: it was taken probably around 1980 by a food photographer (which we found very funny) who was trying to get into taking photos of bands. We went to the studio where he was an assistant, gobbled up the chicken curry that he had been photographing earlier on, and did the shoot. It was so hot under the lights that James, Carl and Russell started sprouting stubble.
I've got a whole lot more from this session somewhere either here or at the storage unit where I keep the things that wouldn't fit into my house!
He was actually a very good photographer and his name was John but that's all I can remember about him.
This was the night that, after we'd finished, our manager Jonathan and myself wandered over to Portland Place with a copy of 24 Hours and waited for John Peel to walk in. We were very self-conscious but when he came in at 9.45 to do his show, he invited us up to the studio and put the record on there and then, broadcasting it before even hearing it.
It was mortifying and I tried to talk over it but he shushed me because he wanted to listen to it. He then went on to play it almost every night, it seemed and it became an independent hit.
We were such a silly band, looking back on it: quite immature. The only sillier band was Black Uhuru, who spent a whole interview session with the New Musical Express arguing about a ballpoint pen with a picture of the Statue of Liberty on it. I remember reading it and thinking 'That sounds a bit like us'.
I remain hugely proud of our recordings though. The one thing that we totally agreed on was working and working on our songs until we thought they were perfect, as good as they could be, and I definitely think we had a 'sound'. From time to time over the last 30 years the occasional person has 'discovered' us. I spent a while corresponding with a Swedish teenager who used to run her own fanzine; she would write lovely emails about climbing mountains and eating raspberries with her boyfriend, and she told me she always played The Chefs songs before going out because they made her happy.
Someone wrote to Julie Blair at Attrix and told her they had got married because of 24 Hours, and then of course there is Monty, whose birthday party I am playing later this month.
I have still got three checky shirts that I used to wear on stage, and a rather natty fringed buckskin jacket, but a lot of stuff got stolen from dressing rooms- I had some little gold guitar ear-rings and a bolo tie that matched them with a mother-of-pearl disc with a gold guitar in the middle.
And of course, I've got the first Hofner bass that I used to play; the second was a violin bass that had a horrible sound and a heavy neck that pulled it skew-whiff if I didn't hang on to it all the time.
Yellow and blue, yellow and blue, those were our colours, happy colours to brighten up the recession!

Added Words

I have added words to my Lectrice story to make more suitable for an academic book. The editor likes it now!

I'm getting a fix of Gaydar radio which is proving remarkably cheery; I am waiting to see if I've got glandular fever, which might explain the constant fatigue and headaches I have at the moment....

Link to a Blog

Pete Chrisp drew my attention to this:
http://fruitierthanthou.blogspot.com/2009/09/chefs-john-peel-session-11th-may-1981.html
The person who posted it got it a bit wrong- it was Joby and the Hoologans who were dubbed the 'worst band in Brighton' by Keith Hurley, who promoted the dear departed Alhambra. 'But I will always book you 'cos you pack the place out and I don't understand why', he added.
Perhaps The Chefs were the worst band in Brighton too? I suppose that is possible.
Some of our live recordings are pretty dire.

Chieftain

This young chap was born in Crieff in Perthshire, and was the Chieftain of the Highland Games one year. At the time I hadn't got a clue who he was. I believe I may have mentioned many posts ago the frisson of excitement he had caused in the local ironmongers when he tried on a waxed jacket. I was the next person to try the jacket on and the shop assistant was terribly excited when he told me about it.
Unforchly, my total lack of knowledge about either celebs or films meant that I merely smiled politely and carried on riffling through the sturdy socks and enamel campware.
It's an odd photo: it looks a little bit like he's just about to saw his leg off and is rather proud of the fact.
What a brave laddie!

Conference Paper

I have been snacking away at a conference paper I am due to present at the Art of Record Production Conference in December. As usual, I have unearthed far too much stuff and it's a case of condensing, editing, deleting, sorting... finally, I have decided to start at the end and work to the beginning to prevent it from being yet another 'woman moans at how unfair the record industry is' type paper, which God only know the bloody industry deserves to hear again and again until it's so worn down it changes.
Me versus Gangsta Rap? Not a chance! What a frightening world: once a line is crossed by a woman, it's hard to get back over to safety again.
And that rotter Stephen Fry!*
The Oleaginous Gent reminds me of those kids at school who wound you up constantly and as soon as you reacted, burst into tears and rushed off to tell the teacher.
I don't think I've ever met a woman who does not enjoy sex (or as some of us call it, making love). The world is full of women who enjoy physical contact with men whether briefly or long-term; maybe they just decided that Stephen Fry was not the person to tell about this? I knew he didn't fancy women, but now I know he doesn't like us, either. We like to be choosy, you know, which is why we don't generally fall flat on our backs as soon as a man snorts and bucks and charges in our direction.
Of course, now he pretends he was joking. Well, Stephen, that sort of joke isn't funny from this angle, the one that women see things from.
Ever though of apologising? I don't think so! That might rock your smug perch a little, mightn't it?

Well, that's the anger-pipes cleared out satisfactorily: sorry about that!

Here is a photo from a 1960s children's book to show you (or remind you!) what little girls were brought up to do: write things down, while the boy actually did things. I have been reading about the cotton mills in the industrial revolution where men stayed at home to look after the children because they didn't know how to use the machines; and the US Air Force, where once computers were introduced to aid navigation, that job which had been done mathematically by women suddenly became a man's job because it involved machines.
Then there was the time I went to work for a day in a Special School and the young men made a high wall around the electronic keyboard by standing close together and presenting their backs to the room so that the young women couldn't get anywhere near it!
There's so much stuff but I do want to make the talk positive so I am going to imagine a fine future for women producers. Will anyone even turn up to hear it? That's always a risk. I am thinking of presenting the paper in fancy dress, as Beyonce or somebody like that. Bootylicious!
* Television presenter Fry was interviewed by Attitude magazine and remarked that women only put up with sex so that they can capture a husband: if they actually liked it, they would cruise like gay men. 
Of course.