My dear wooden lady. I took this photo to put her on eBay, but I can't let her go!
Monday, August 31, 2009
Oak
My fingernails are now a most attractive shade of oak, as I've been restoring the lustre f the Most Comfortable Chair in the World, which is rickety and made out of the Cheapest Wood in the World, but which had audibly thanked me for paying it a bit of attention.
I'm thinking of taking my hands to the Antique Roadshow to get them valued.
I'm thinking of taking my hands to the Antique Roadshow to get them valued.
Side FX
Hurrah! A holiday! I would like to go to the Notting Hill Carnival but it gets so crowded.
I remember the last year I went: I went with Marek Kohn, who was then a journalist but is now a serious author.
We watched a float drift by that was manned by a DJ and a bunch of clubbers who were quite clearly off their faces on Ecstasy. They were beckoning to us in slow motion, dancing with their hips rotating and with mindless smiles and vacant eyes. It was so funny that I decided that Ecstasy had been invented as a comedy drug for the non-using viewer, and I imagined the experiments by its inventor, building elements into the drug that would make people look stupid!
It's funny how many drugs appear to have built-in properties like this; having known more than my fair share of heroin addicts in the 1980s when I worked in a music industry press office, I noticed heroin's evangelising effect on its users, who can not stop themselves from telling everyone what a fantastic experience it gives them, and everyone really must try it. Very clever for an addictive drug!
I was sitting chatting to the lead singer of a well-known band one day, who I assumed to be a rational and down to earth fellow.
'Have you notice how everybody who takes smack tells everyone else what a fantastic drug it is, and how they must try it?' I asked.
'Yes', he said. I don't take it myself. However, I tried it once. It's the most amazing experience: you can't describe it. Amazing. You really ought to try it, you know'.
Hmmm.
I remember the last year I went: I went with Marek Kohn, who was then a journalist but is now a serious author.
We watched a float drift by that was manned by a DJ and a bunch of clubbers who were quite clearly off their faces on Ecstasy. They were beckoning to us in slow motion, dancing with their hips rotating and with mindless smiles and vacant eyes. It was so funny that I decided that Ecstasy had been invented as a comedy drug for the non-using viewer, and I imagined the experiments by its inventor, building elements into the drug that would make people look stupid!
It's funny how many drugs appear to have built-in properties like this; having known more than my fair share of heroin addicts in the 1980s when I worked in a music industry press office, I noticed heroin's evangelising effect on its users, who can not stop themselves from telling everyone what a fantastic experience it gives them, and everyone really must try it. Very clever for an addictive drug!
I was sitting chatting to the lead singer of a well-known band one day, who I assumed to be a rational and down to earth fellow.
'Have you notice how everybody who takes smack tells everyone else what a fantastic drug it is, and how they must try it?' I asked.
'Yes', he said. I don't take it myself. However, I tried it once. It's the most amazing experience: you can't describe it. Amazing. You really ought to try it, you know'.
Hmmm.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Saturday, August 29, 2009
I'm a Hippocrittur!
What a hypocrite I am!
One post says I'm going to stop moaning and the next one's a mega-moan!!!!!
One post says I'm going to stop moaning and the next one's a mega-moan!!!!!
Into the Bin
I have passed through so many sorts of life:village child commuting to Newcastle to go to school* up to the age of 17; budding art student on Foundation at Sunderland Polytechnic; disappointed Undergraduate (well, they were all dating African princes and getting diamond necklaces for their 21st birthdays) at Brighton Art College before becoming a punk rocker and learning to play bass. Then I was a post-punk band member, in the Chefs and then Helen and the Horns. Then a music worker on estates in Sarf London, before getting married and having two daughters. We were perilously poor with nothing in the fridge and nothing in the bank, but a roof over our heads. So I went back to college and ended up a University Lecturer, and now I'm a musician again as well.
Zig
Zag
Zig
Zag
And now, after divorcing nearly two years ago, me and the Offsprogs are packing up our big airy Edwardian house and if we are lucky, moving into a railwayman's cottage, two up, two down, and all the rubbish in our loft must Go.
A lot of it doesn't seem like rubbish. The sociology notes from Sunderland Polytechnic (we had to do it as part of our general studies): the Declaration of Human Rights, the Declaration of Independence, lilac-coloured roneo'd notes on art and ethics: they brought back the memory of the sociology lecturer, bearded and with John Lennon glasses and a tweed jacket, too young to look so old and with an earnest whiff of the sixties about him.
Notes from working on the estates in Southwark- from a children's song sharing day where youth workers of all ages, genders and backgrounds sang songs to each other. And I remembered taking a little drum machine into a youth group and getting the kids to rap something about themselves over the beat. 'My daddy died yesterday', sang one little girl. Nobody had known. We stopped for a chat after that.
Notes from when I first started work as a lecturer, hating to leave my kids. Every morning they climbed into my bed for a cuddle, and with my eyes closed as I held them I thought: relaxed child=Offsprog One, tense child=Offsprog Two;
And every morning my then husband brought me a cup of tea, and every morning the tabby cat from Battersea head-butted my hand just as I was lifting the cup to take the first sip, and it spilt on her head. Every morning!
In the bin, in the bin, to be recycled and made into pulp....
Notes from Song Club, that I ran with Dan. I'm keeping a lot of the kids' pictures, but dumping a lot of the rest. We went to London Zoo and wrote songs about cleaning out the cages and what animal we would be. I would be a giraffe (someone else chose zebra, so giraffe was second best). We sang the songs at the zoo, with orange buckets from B & Q and brooms from Robert Dyas, making rhythms that the guy from Stomp showed us. It was a freeezing day in November but the kids LOVED it.
In the bin, in the bin, all the big sheets of paper we wrote the lyrics on together. Those kids are at secondary school now!
I felt very sad. But I do know, this part of the moving on process is the hard part, as you feel yourself winding down and closing doors before the next lot are fully open.
*the poet Basil Bunting lived in Wylam and used to get the same train sometimes. He had a big cartoon moustache and a leather briefcase with 'B Bunting' stencilled in white on the sides. Was he vain, or was he worried about getting his briefcase mixed up with someone else's, I used to wonder?
Zig
Zag
Zig
Zag
And now, after divorcing nearly two years ago, me and the Offsprogs are packing up our big airy Edwardian house and if we are lucky, moving into a railwayman's cottage, two up, two down, and all the rubbish in our loft must Go.
A lot of it doesn't seem like rubbish. The sociology notes from Sunderland Polytechnic (we had to do it as part of our general studies): the Declaration of Human Rights, the Declaration of Independence, lilac-coloured roneo'd notes on art and ethics: they brought back the memory of the sociology lecturer, bearded and with John Lennon glasses and a tweed jacket, too young to look so old and with an earnest whiff of the sixties about him.
Notes from working on the estates in Southwark- from a children's song sharing day where youth workers of all ages, genders and backgrounds sang songs to each other. And I remembered taking a little drum machine into a youth group and getting the kids to rap something about themselves over the beat. 'My daddy died yesterday', sang one little girl. Nobody had known. We stopped for a chat after that.
Notes from when I first started work as a lecturer, hating to leave my kids. Every morning they climbed into my bed for a cuddle, and with my eyes closed as I held them I thought: relaxed child=Offsprog One, tense child=Offsprog Two;
And every morning my then husband brought me a cup of tea, and every morning the tabby cat from Battersea head-butted my hand just as I was lifting the cup to take the first sip, and it spilt on her head. Every morning!
In the bin, in the bin, to be recycled and made into pulp....
Notes from Song Club, that I ran with Dan. I'm keeping a lot of the kids' pictures, but dumping a lot of the rest. We went to London Zoo and wrote songs about cleaning out the cages and what animal we would be. I would be a giraffe (someone else chose zebra, so giraffe was second best). We sang the songs at the zoo, with orange buckets from B & Q and brooms from Robert Dyas, making rhythms that the guy from Stomp showed us. It was a freeezing day in November but the kids LOVED it.
In the bin, in the bin, all the big sheets of paper we wrote the lyrics on together. Those kids are at secondary school now!
I felt very sad. But I do know, this part of the moving on process is the hard part, as you feel yourself winding down and closing doors before the next lot are fully open.
*the poet Basil Bunting lived in Wylam and used to get the same train sometimes. He had a big cartoon moustache and a leather briefcase with 'B Bunting' stencilled in white on the sides. Was he vain, or was he worried about getting his briefcase mixed up with someone else's, I used to wonder?
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Moan End
No more moaning! There are trillions of things to look forward to! Two Desperado Housewives gigs, a weekend that includes a gig in an allotment in Stockport, and the Helen and the Horns gig at the Borderline supporting the Daintees, a version that includes John Steele, who I first met when he was three, as I used to go to play with his sister, Alison.
It's going to be a rip-roaring Autumn for gigs, i think.
After moving house, it will be time to start recording again. I've got enough songs for another elpee.
And it's almost Autumn, best time of year by a long chalk and a crinkled leaf!
It's going to be a rip-roaring Autumn for gigs, i think.
After moving house, it will be time to start recording again. I've got enough songs for another elpee.
And it's almost Autumn, best time of year by a long chalk and a crinkled leaf!
Slither
Offsprog 2 has done well in her exams: maybe now she will stop shouting at me!
Or maybe not.
Meanwhile, I've been to Docklands to collect the marking I have to do, the work students have resubmitted.
What a dry old task! On the way back in the car, I imagine Soft Play Day for lecturers. We are given a mug of hot chocolate on the way in, and offered a free reflexology session. Our marking is handed to us in specially-made wicker baskets, around the handles of which are entwined fragrant pale pink roses and strands of ivy.
Merrily we skip back to our jolly old bangers, which backfire cheekily as we pootle back home to our cosy nests to settle down for the evening with a Red Pen and a slice of chocolate cake, wearing expressions of benign tolerance and contentment.
Instead, the scripts come to us in specially-made shiny plastic pockets, polished to such a degree that it's impossible to carry more than two of them without them slipping out of your arms in opposite directions, normally waiting till you reach the car park with its gusty Docklands breeze that whips them all over the tarmac, so you have to frantically chase them and hope that one of them hasn't lodged forever under the mudgard of somebody's VW Golf.
Every door in the building has either a key, a keypad or a special device that you fruitlessly slide your ID card in praying that the door will open. The teetering scripts slither hither and thither, threatening to sabotage you at every micro-movement.
And the University of the East specialises in making coffee from a mixture of tar, water and sand, an interesting drinking experience if ever there was one.
Never Mind! It's fun to write about, if not to experience, and has actually brought an air of normality in its wake this week of mortgage charges, assertive estate agents and pathetic dribbles of eBay income.
Thank heavens for good and constant friends, for good family and for music! And of course, the poor cats, trying so desperately to be supportive by sitting on my computer keyboard and giving me encouraging looks.
Thank heavens for them too.
Or maybe not.
Meanwhile, I've been to Docklands to collect the marking I have to do, the work students have resubmitted.
What a dry old task! On the way back in the car, I imagine Soft Play Day for lecturers. We are given a mug of hot chocolate on the way in, and offered a free reflexology session. Our marking is handed to us in specially-made wicker baskets, around the handles of which are entwined fragrant pale pink roses and strands of ivy.
Merrily we skip back to our jolly old bangers, which backfire cheekily as we pootle back home to our cosy nests to settle down for the evening with a Red Pen and a slice of chocolate cake, wearing expressions of benign tolerance and contentment.
Instead, the scripts come to us in specially-made shiny plastic pockets, polished to such a degree that it's impossible to carry more than two of them without them slipping out of your arms in opposite directions, normally waiting till you reach the car park with its gusty Docklands breeze that whips them all over the tarmac, so you have to frantically chase them and hope that one of them hasn't lodged forever under the mudgard of somebody's VW Golf.
Every door in the building has either a key, a keypad or a special device that you fruitlessly slide your ID card in praying that the door will open. The teetering scripts slither hither and thither, threatening to sabotage you at every micro-movement.
And the University of the East specialises in making coffee from a mixture of tar, water and sand, an interesting drinking experience if ever there was one.
Never Mind! It's fun to write about, if not to experience, and has actually brought an air of normality in its wake this week of mortgage charges, assertive estate agents and pathetic dribbles of eBay income.
Thank heavens for good and constant friends, for good family and for music! And of course, the poor cats, trying so desperately to be supportive by sitting on my computer keyboard and giving me encouraging looks.
Thank heavens for them too.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
The Desperado Housewives Are Go!
We have two gigs planned, on 6th and 14th October, a new member, Eliza P, and lots of excitement buzzing.. see us on www.myspace.com/desperadohousewives and invite us to be your Myspace Friends if you are a Myspacee.
I'm a bit worried as my songs aren't strictly funny, but I'm content to be the Ernie Wise to the three Eric Morecambes- somebody's got to do it!
I will look funny anyway as I will be wearing the lilac chiffon dres MArtin brought back fro Australia for me- pure Mike Leigh. All I will need is a cocktail made from Blue Curacao (or a fake one as I don't drink) with an umbrella and a cherry on a cocktail stick, and I'll look the part. A knobbly hairdo as well perhaps. Mmm! Delish seventies chic! Pass me a slice of Black Forest Gateau!
I was eating gateau
In me bateau
Sailing down the Thames
A giant fish
Smashed the dish
And I haven't been the same
Since.
I'm a bit worried as my songs aren't strictly funny, but I'm content to be the Ernie Wise to the three Eric Morecambes- somebody's got to do it!
I will look funny anyway as I will be wearing the lilac chiffon dres MArtin brought back fro Australia for me- pure Mike Leigh. All I will need is a cocktail made from Blue Curacao (or a fake one as I don't drink) with an umbrella and a cherry on a cocktail stick, and I'll look the part. A knobbly hairdo as well perhaps. Mmm! Delish seventies chic! Pass me a slice of Black Forest Gateau!
I was eating gateau
In me bateau
Sailing down the Thames
A giant fish
Smashed the dish
And I haven't been the same
Since.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Wooden Bear, Singing, House
This is a carved wooden bear by the artist Drew Edwards. There's an exhibition of his work at High Barnet Tube station, which has suddenly developed a character at odds with the general air of controlled neutrality hereabouts. They squashed the chewing gum painter and stopped him, but someone else has sprung up to carry the baton of creativity, and the station garden is suddenly being cultivated, with stands of runner beans, merry pots of begonias and a children's toy railway running across a rooftop. Big Up whoever it is who has the jollity and character to make a stand against curtain-twitcher-land! I bet the nasty local paper will be full of complaints. The residents of this beige suburb don't know how lucky they are! Back in Camberwell the South London Press boasted a murder on every page!
It was a nice day yesterday, headed by a morning at the Song Circle. We'd all written songs about summer: Nadya's was a blues that showed of the strength of her voice really well. Katy's was a drifting song that made me imagine punting; mine was the Daisies song with an extra verse and they both seemed to think it was quite sinister. I suppose it is, being born out of a hysterical desire to Remain Cheerful At All Costs!
Katy's new album is out and its really good- she has taken the best out of her folktronica, gone back to her roots sort of but popped everything up. I will write a proper review later this week. It's got the most amazing artwork too.
The Desperado Housewives have two gigs coming up which i will confirm when I have more details.
The rest of today will be spent learning yet more about what you have to do when you are selling and buying a house. All I know is that a huge amount of money gets spent on the people who do it for you, leaving you with massively less left over to buy a house with. I can't wait for it all to be over.
Monday, August 24, 2009
Old Chefs Badges
I found a little stash of these. Anyone want one? Send a postal order or cheque for £1.25 made out to Helen and the Horns to my p.o. box (details at the side there-------->) saying whether you want the old design (left) or the new one (right)
Saturday, August 22, 2009
A Musical Variety Night at the Perseverance: Review
Acton Bell had paid for the flyer with Letts, and it had a Victorian look to it. She was there when I got there, as I'd agreed to do backing vocals again, and had asked her to learn Gotta Have a Heart. One of the songs she'd asked me to learn, Sh'boom, is an amazing song with the backing vocal 'Hello Hello again, hoping we will meet again'. It was so complex I hadn't been able to learn it, so I was relieved when she said we'd just do the Runaround Sue/Teenager in Love medley from last time.
It was a very different night from previous Perseverance nights, being largely Liverpudlian and with a corresponding dark feel to a lot of the music. Fist on was Stephen A Wood, who played a series of melancholy instrumentals and a couple of psychedelic-flavoured songs that bore a strong Syd Barrett influence. He was a distinctive fingerpickin' guitarist who used a different tuning: he told me later he'd tried to do DADGAD but accidentally had a 'B' in there and kept it.
Next on was Dominoes, an intense beatnik chap who sang over backing tapes. The problem was that his vocals were on the tapes too and although he sang over the top of them, any expression or dynamics were lost. I actually thought he had good songs, but they were difficult to appreciate the way he did them. They were particularly dark and Acton Bell got up to cheer everyone up afterwards, including at my request There's a Kind of Hush which is even more effective than the Hermit's version when it is sung in her Bolton accent! After that, Council Pop played a superb set of mysterious and emotional songs. She is a tall willowy girl who has just sacked her band of blokeish musicians to go it alone, and she had a tiny children's guitar that she'd bought for a tenner in a jumble sale. She was witty and perceptive, and at times quite nasty in a nice sort of way. Then it was my turn, and I was happy, and dedicated Heaven Avenue to Foolish Girl, who had motorbiked down from Stevenage and sat smiling at the back.
After that it was home time, and the welcome land of nod.
It was a very different night from previous Perseverance nights, being largely Liverpudlian and with a corresponding dark feel to a lot of the music. Fist on was Stephen A Wood, who played a series of melancholy instrumentals and a couple of psychedelic-flavoured songs that bore a strong Syd Barrett influence. He was a distinctive fingerpickin' guitarist who used a different tuning: he told me later he'd tried to do DADGAD but accidentally had a 'B' in there and kept it.
Next on was Dominoes, an intense beatnik chap who sang over backing tapes. The problem was that his vocals were on the tapes too and although he sang over the top of them, any expression or dynamics were lost. I actually thought he had good songs, but they were difficult to appreciate the way he did them. They were particularly dark and Acton Bell got up to cheer everyone up afterwards, including at my request There's a Kind of Hush which is even more effective than the Hermit's version when it is sung in her Bolton accent! After that, Council Pop played a superb set of mysterious and emotional songs. She is a tall willowy girl who has just sacked her band of blokeish musicians to go it alone, and she had a tiny children's guitar that she'd bought for a tenner in a jumble sale. She was witty and perceptive, and at times quite nasty in a nice sort of way. Then it was my turn, and I was happy, and dedicated Heaven Avenue to Foolish Girl, who had motorbiked down from Stevenage and sat smiling at the back.
After that it was home time, and the welcome land of nod.
Friday, August 21, 2009
House
Once again, Talk Talk is Down Down and I'm in the library, after having walked past my new house (yes! they accepted my offer at 5.30 tonight!), small and imperfectly formed but solid enough to contain the fury that is Offsprog 2.
I will sleep soundly tonight!!!
I will have to review the Perseverance gig later this weekend as I can't remember all the names of the musicians. But I was thrilled that one of them said 'You are not a singer-songwriter. You play rock!'
Two things to be very happy about today!
I will sleep soundly tonight!!!
I will have to review the Perseverance gig later this weekend as I can't remember all the names of the musicians. But I was thrilled that one of them said 'You are not a singer-songwriter. You play rock!'
Two things to be very happy about today!
In Which Scaffolders Exceed Previous Scaffolders' Ability To Swear And Shout
The scaffolders are at it again, erecting their poles down the road and across the way.
They have one size- extra large, and one volume-extra loud, and a sad little radio tinnily sings away in the background, hopelessly trying to compete. The scaffolders are dressed in matching t-shirts and hyper suntans.
CLANG CLUNG CLICK CLICK... CLANGGGGGG!
'Fark!'
'EH?'
FARK!"
'EH?'
'Oroight THAT"S IT!!!'
'OI STEVE STEVE!!"
'OI DON'T GIVE A FARK'
'FARK!!'
There seems to be one scaffolder per pole, which seems a trifle profligate in these times of recession.
In the yawning silence between expletives, the poles are dragged reluctantly hither and thither.
They are wondering if somebody's a lesbian now.
And now they are having a massive argument!
'GET DAHN OFF THE SCAFFOLD AND GO 'OME!'
The volume and range of swearing sweeps down the street.
Pity the bin men have been. They could have tipped the lot of them into their smelly lorry and taken them away to the dump!
They have one size- extra large, and one volume-extra loud, and a sad little radio tinnily sings away in the background, hopelessly trying to compete. The scaffolders are dressed in matching t-shirts and hyper suntans.
CLANG CLUNG CLICK CLICK... CLANGGGGGG!
'Fark!'
'EH?'
FARK!"
'EH?'
'Oroight THAT"S IT!!!'
'OI STEVE STEVE!!"
'OI DON'T GIVE A FARK'
'FARK!!'
There seems to be one scaffolder per pole, which seems a trifle profligate in these times of recession.
In the yawning silence between expletives, the poles are dragged reluctantly hither and thither.
They are wondering if somebody's a lesbian now.
And now they are having a massive argument!
'GET DAHN OFF THE SCAFFOLD AND GO 'OME!'
The volume and range of swearing sweeps down the street.
Pity the bin men have been. They could have tipped the lot of them into their smelly lorry and taken them away to the dump!
Thursday, August 20, 2009
The Perseverance Tonight
I took time out from it all yesterday, drew the picture below, sang some songs, went to look at another house (small but perfectly formed) and made an offer on it. It's so minute I'll have to put all my drawings and papers, some bits of furniture and a lot of books into storage for a couple of years until i move north, but its the only one I have seen that I could imagine my Offsprogs (who will have to share a room) and myself living in. If it is not to be mine, I am having a rest for a couple of weeks, catching up with work, knitting the letter 'H' I've been allocated for the giant knitted poem (we don't know what the poem is yet, we just knit the letters) and drawing- and doing another banner for Gina's project. I have in mind a jolly roger flag with the symbol for 'woman' above the crossed bones instead of a skull.
The embroidered bra is going to be worn by a big cardboard Venus de Milo coat hanger I made last night. I haven't tried it on her yet 'cos I drew it in thick sticky black ink which needed overnight to dry.
Tonight, it's Acton Bell's Variety Night at the Perseverance, my favourite venue at the moment. There are two bands from Liverpool, Council Pop and the Dominoes, a solo chappie, Acton Belle (I will sing some backing vocals) and me (Acton Bell will sing some backing vocals)
Roll on another day, sunny at last, sleepless still but in better spirits.
The embroidered bra is going to be worn by a big cardboard Venus de Milo coat hanger I made last night. I haven't tried it on her yet 'cos I drew it in thick sticky black ink which needed overnight to dry.
Tonight, it's Acton Bell's Variety Night at the Perseverance, my favourite venue at the moment. There are two bands from Liverpool, Council Pop and the Dominoes, a solo chappie, Acton Belle (I will sing some backing vocals) and me (Acton Bell will sing some backing vocals)
Roll on another day, sunny at last, sleepless still but in better spirits.
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