Sussex Gastro Pub Series: The Ginger Dog in Kemp Town, Brighton

On those rare Saturdays when we haven't got anything much on, Ant and I will usually find ourselves a-wandering down the hill to Kemp Town for a mooch - perhaps picking up a paper and grabbing a coffee in Spinelli's, indulging in a haircut and some people-watching at Barber Blacksheep, browsing the shelves of the Kemp Town Bookshop or picking up indulgent foodie supplies from Bona Foodie or Kemp Town Deli. More often than not, we'll end up still knocking about at lunch time and grabbing a meal at one of the many pubs or cafes in the village. 

On our last one of these perambulations a week or so ago, we discovered a new addition to the Kemp Town gastronomical circuit, which has popped up where the not-so-glamorous Wellington pub once was. The latest addition to the 'Gingerman' local restaurant chain (which includes the original Gingerman restaurant, The Ginger Pig and The Ginger Fox), The Ginger Dog is tucked away on College Place, sat between The Golden Cannon and (our favourite local) The Barley Mow on the Kemp Town pub trail. Having heard good things about the other Gingerman restaurants, we were chuffed to find one practically on our doorstep and decided to give it a try.

With its muted buff walls, rustic mis-matched chairs and funky artwork, the newly decorated interior certainly looked the part of a trendy gastro pub and the friendly staff were a vast improvement on the pub's previous incarnation. Not wanting to spoil our afternoon by being over-stuffed, and still having a big hill up which to scamper, we both decided on sticking to starters, along with an extra portion of chips (just in case). I had a goats cheese and baby onion gratin, which came with a slab of griddled bread (ciabatta I think) and a salad garnish, Ant went for the salmon tartare - something he'd never sampled before. Both of us were happy with our choices, which were nicely presented and beautifully cooked. The chips were the icing on the cake, perhaps the most perfect pub chips I've had - lightly crispy on the outside, fluffy on the inside, not too greasy - and a vast improvement on the awful ones we'd been served at the Open House the week before.

All in all it was a delightful, if rather indulgent, Saturday lunch and I'm looking forward to going back for the full three-course experience one evening before too long.

Jesca Hoop at the Latest Music Bar (and Other Adventures)

After the cultural and social wilderness that was January, it was a pleasant shock to the system to kick-start February with not one but four nights out in a row. This tetralogy of delights began on Wednesday evening with a few pints at the Barley Mow in Kemp Town, followed by a ride in Jen's girl-racer vintage sports car and coffee back at ours accompanied by the excellent new Charlotte Gainsbourg album, Irm, which I'd just bought that day.

On Thursday Ant and I made a last minute decision to go and see Jesca Hoop at the Latest Music Bar, our first gig of the year - and what a show. I'd heard and liked Jesca Hoop on 6Music and via Last.fm, which is why she'd popped up on my recommended gigs feed. In the flesh she was spirited, accomplished and utterly transporting, affecting me in the way that only a select few (mostly female) artists have ever done before. I'm thinking particularly of such memorable gigs as My Brightest Diamond, Camille and Carina Round, who all possessed, and indeed still posses, a certain sensual je ne se quoi that oozes out through their performance.

With its gorgeous three-part harmonies, foot-tapping rhythms and perfectly enunciated lyrics, Jesca Hoop's music is infused with all manner of influences - from folk to blues, gypsy to bluegrass - but her style is very much her own. It felt like a real privilege to see her in an intimate venue at what feels like a tipping point in her career. I was far too swept away to remember to get my camera out during the gig, so the above video is from Jesca Hoop's acoustic set at Resident Records earlier that day. Gigs in Bristol, Leeds, Middlesbrough, Glasgow, Aberdeen, Edinburgh, Manchester, Dublin, Galway and Belfast are coming up in the next couple of weeks - I strongly recommend you get yourself along. For more details of the tour, visit Jesca Hoop's MySpace page.

I've learned to expect the unexpected on a night out with Angell, but If you'd told me in advance that I'd be peeing behind a curtain in the basement of a disused fabric shop in Dalston during his birthday celebrations on Friday, I may have raised an eyebrow. It all felt a bit Hernando's Hideaway tapping on the door, uttering a password and having 'c**t' stamped on our hands before being allowed into what was clearly not the most legitimate of club nights. Despite the basic facilities and smoky conditions (people smoking inside, how retro), it was a good night. We drank copious amounts of rum and danced to all manner of cheese, including the classic You Got the Love (the Candi Staton/Source version) to which I have a vague embarrassing memory of throwing shapes. Oh dear.

Saturday's jollifications were a little more sedate but no less entertaining. Damien's birthday drinks in the Park Crescent rolled on into the early hours back at his and Olly's place, where we were treated to Olly's magnificent Squidgy Chocolate Log. I can't think of many better ways to round off a Saturday night, can you?

Sussex Gastro Pubs Series: The Lion & Lobster Has an Upstairs (Who Knew?)

Things are always changing in Brighton & Hove - it's one of those towns where cafes come and go and pubs change hands in the blink of an eye. It can be disconcerting to discover that somewhere you've known and loved has changed beyond recognition, but then again, sometimes you can be pleasantly surprised.

Last night I went on a nostalgic walkabout with Jo around some of my old haunts in Hove borders - the Cooper's Cask (which hasn't changed a bit) and the Lion Lobster (which has). Back when we were living in Bedford Place, the Lion & Lobster was our local and has remained a favourite watering hole whenever we're in those parts.

It's been over a year since I last popped in for a scoop and I was surprised to discover some substantial developments had occurred in that time. Having already been extended to include a row of cosy booths off the back room, the pub has now doubled in size with an upstairs bar and restaurant and even an upstairs beer garden. The sectioned off cosy restaurant - with its higgledy-piggledy pictures and homely lamps - has the atmosphere of a private members' club, and though we were too late to sample the standard cuisine, we did indulge in a pizza from the late night menu (available til 2am Fridays & Saturdays) so that we could sit in the swanky bit. I'm looking forward to going back for a proper meal in due course - but do let me know what it's like if you have eaten there yourself.

Photo of the Lion & Lobster by Koschi on Flickr / CC BY-NC 2.0

My First Brighton Bloggers Meet-Up

January has been just about the most uneventful month on record. Apart from last Sunday's mad flurry of Nathaniel's Baptism/Reggie's third birthday party/Sebastien Tellier gig, we've hardly been out since Christmas, and I was starting to climb the walls. All our friends have been hunkering down detoxing/saving the pennies/recovering from festive debauchery - none of which I've particularly needed to do, having had a relatively quiet and frugal Christmas. Another night in front of the TV and I would have gone seriously crazy (you don't want to see me when that happens).

So last night, we broke the seemingly endless cycle of home entertainment and spontaneously decided to pootle along to the Brighton Bloggers meet-up, something we've never done before despite both being long-term bloggers living in Brighton. I'm glad we did. A small but interesting gathering took over a corner of the recently opened Florist pub (which was the PV), talking about everything from retro phones to tractor-mounted lasers (blame Ant for that one), eco-travelling to the recent celebrity Twitter explosion. All in all it was a very pleasant evening, and nice to connect with fellow bloggers after years of writing away in my own little vacuum. As was generally agreed last night, all this advanced virtual communication technology is all very well, but it's good to bring it back to the real world once in a while and meet people face to face. 

Next up in the virtual-meets-real-world social calendar, the Brighton Twestival on 12th Feb. We already have our tickets, but you can still get yours here.

Links

Some of the lovely folks I met last night (and one I already knew because I'm married to him):

www.amyriley.blogspot.com

http://therecommender.net

http://jane.dallaway.com

http://www.colinmercer.co.uk

http://blog.spiralarm.com/richard

http://reithian.blogspot.com

Where Shall We Go Today?

Ant and I have decided to try and be a bit more adventurous in our choices of places to eat, drink and socialise this year. We've got into the habit of frequenting the same old circuit of cafés and watering holes, and lovely though they are, I often feel as though we are missing out by limiting ourselves to these tried and trusted joints.

My new job, which I started on Wednesday, takes me to the opposite end of Lewes from where I was previously working, and dangerously close to one of my regular foodie haunts - the wonderful Bill's. But even more excitingly, right underneath my office is a little gem of a place that had until now evaded my lunchtime radar. Tucked away in the courtyard of Pastorale Antiques, Buttercup is a rustic cafe-bistro with a simple menu that changes daily, and a bountiful supply of mouth-watering cakes. The free Wi-Fi also makes it a perfect spot from which to work whilst enjoying a slice of home-made Battenberg and a pot of Earl Grey. As if the new job wasn't cool enough already, I am immediately endeared to my new surroundings by virtue of this discovery. In the words of Little Orphan Annie: "I think I'm gonna like it here".

On Saturday, we re-acquainted ourselves with an old hang-out from our Waterstone's days - the Pull & Pump in Brighton. Though many a post-work pint was sunk inside its cosy walls back then, neither of us had ever eaten in there before. A stone's throw from the dreaded Churchill Centre (which I only ever brave out of necessity), it is a veritable sanctuary of calm in comparison. Taking a well-earned break from the end-of-Sale madness (I was on a new work-clothes mission), and not wanting to go too far-afield, we ducked in for lunch. I chose vegeburger and chips (obviously), while Ant went for the Kedgeree; both were excellent. I can't understand why more people weren't doing the same - the place was half empty.

Falling back into old habits, and in the absence of further inspiration, on Sunday afternoon we popped to Middle Farm for refreshment after a walk around the Firle Estate, resolving to investigate new afternoon tea options for next weekend. Any suggestions?

Photo of Buttercup cafe courtesy of Mister Snappy on Flickr.

Bye Bye Bonnie

I first met Erin, aka 'Bonnie' after seeing her in a play last Christmas at the Pavilion Theatre (where she played the fantasy hooker of a lonely man's imagination) and we were introduced by our mutual friend Neel in the pub afterwards. When the invite came to her one-woman show upstairs at the Three and Ten this week, I jumped at the chance to see her in action again. Bonnie in Brighton, written and directed by Erin's husband Guy Picot, was originally performed in 2005, and became a sell-out show at Brighton Festival in 2006, earning her the Best Female Performer Award. A diary-style account of a young Texan girl's love affair with Brighton during her gap year, it clearly comes from the heart - and I found myself wondering how many of the anecdotes might actually be based on Erin's own experiences as an American in Brighton.

Persuaded to visit Brighton by a random stranger in a park in London, and fed up with the Big Smoke, a fresh-faced backpacker abandons her original plan to travel Europe in favour of non-stop partying and 'finding herself' in the intoxicatingly tolerant and open-minded bohemian seaside resort. This may all sound like a rather cliched and worn-out premise, but Erin's animated performance and abundant stage-presence, not to mention a knock-out script, draws you in from the start. Meeting new friends at a seedy hostel, acquiring the alias 'Bonnie', getting a dead-end job in an amusement arcade, partying all night, accidentally ending up with a suitcase full of cash and ecstasy - all these adventures and more are told like chapters in a pacey novel. As expected, there are plenty of laughs, but also some genuinely tear-jerking moments. One-handers can be a tricky thing to pull off, but Erin did it beautifully, and I'm not just saying that because she's a mate. Sadly this was the last chance to see the Bonnie in Brighton, as its star will shortly be moving back to the States. We'll miss you Bonnie!

Sussex Gastro Pubs Series: Lunch at the Thomas Kemp

What is now The Thomas Kemp in Kemp Town has been through several incarnations before becoming the civilised bar/restaurant it is today. I first remember it as the Burlington - a slightly seedy grunge bar, which was then bought by the now (thankfully) defunct Polar Bar chain - never quite right for the sophisticated surroundings of the village. We have no shortage of decent pubs, and several nice restaurants in Kemp Town, but The Thomas Kemp has filled a noticeable gap between the two. We rarely go there of an evening, though it does seem to have a fair few events going on. But it's a good lunch venue for when you fancy something a bit fancier than pub grub but not quite as posh as Blanch House. The ever-changing menu is imaginative and well executed, with plenty of vegetarian options on offer. Decorated with antique map wallpaper, it is light and airy, and you can even see the sea if you sit down the front end, which we did today.

I ordered the red pepper and sweet potato soup (pictured), which came with lovely hunks of freshly baked french bread. Also pictured here is Ant, tucking into his mackerel with chilli sauce, salad and rice - which I'm told was very good. We both treated ourselves to a beer, and sat reading the paper for a bit before popping across to Bona Foodie to pick up some cakes for afternoon tea later. I love wandering down to Kemp Town on a Saturday, because you can get most things you would need without all the hassle of ploughing through town, and you usually bump into some familiar friendly faces along the way. Today our lovely dentist was on the table next to us in the TK. He looks so much younger in his weekend clothes, it was quite perturbing!

Sunday Lunch in Hanover

After Saturday's lack of foodie inspiration, it was with some relish that we tucked into our Sunday roasts at the Dover yesterday lunchtime. It's one of the few local pubs where vegetarians get a choice of two options - sausages or nut roast - and the food is consistently good. After having lugged it round for 24 hours, I decided to leave my camera at home, so this picture was taken on my dodgy cameraphone and doesn't really do justice to its subject. As well as a generous three sausages (nice vegetable ones, none of your rubbery fake-meat soya travesties here, thank goodness), there was a good selection of perfectly cooked veggies - peas, broccoli, potatoes (with skins off unfortunately), swede (mashed) and parsnips, plus the obligatory Yorkshire pud (which I can take or leave). Of course, the gravy is the best bit in any roast dinner, and also happens to be one of my own culinary specialities, so I can be quite critical of other people's. This gravy passed the test, not quite as thick and savoury as I would make it, but tasty nonetheless. Mine is a variation on a family recipe passed down to me by my mother, and in turn from her aunt. It uses wholemeal flour instead of cornflour, usually involves alcohol (red wine or beer can both work), either onions or garlic, and a rather bizarre secret ingredient that gives it a wonderful rich fruitiness. Try it, you'll be surprised.

My Grandma Is Johnny Cash

The latest addition to Brighton's thriving music scene, XVII The Hangman, played their debut gig last night upstairs at the Prince Albert, supporting the skinny-jeaned Dirty Socials. Declaring itself "the most Rock n Roll pub in Brighton", the distinctly divey Albert can certainly claim to have played host to more than a few future luminaries in its time. And based on last night's impassioned performance, there's every reason to believe that XVII The Hangman will be the next proud notch on the pub's metaphorical musical bedpost. The 'sounds like' section of the band's obligatory myspace page reads: "A bit Cave a bit Waits a bit Doors a bit Ceefax music... and some gypsy type jazz tango things thrown in because we can" which is exactly how I would have described them, had I got in first.

I was there in the capacity of official photographer and friend to the lead singer, Nick Sheldon (formerly of Low Frequency Dive - pictured right). When I asked Sheldon afterwards how he felt the gig had gone, he seemed uncharacteristically ebullient, gushing: "I've never felt more alive. I will die happy one day, and tonight has helped me towards my cause of smiling my arse off when I'm dead." He then tried to palm me off with some feeble Lark Trap about the band members having met and bonded in the dark during a power cut, but it actually transpired that they had found each other using community website Gumtree. By this point, a sizeable crowd had gathered outside, led by the inevitable smoking contingent, and there was a real post-gig buzz in the air. Throwing myself into the throng with notebook in hand, I asked a few of the punters for their first impressions of XVII The Hangman. Here's what I got:

"Dirty, dirty and a bit sort of gritty, but definitely dirty. Absolutely." Vicky

"I nearly wet my pants." Erin

"A big bleached cake-hole." Anonymous

"They were great - black and gold like a duracell battery" Lee-Roy

"The Dirty Socials - they're the ones." Moxie

"Orgasmic!" Harriet

"Awe-inspiring. I'd like to hear more." Dylan

"No comment." Dan

"I hate hypocrisy." Mat

"The first time I've seen the real Nick Sheldon on true musical form." Brian

"I didn't even see them." John

XVII The Hangman will next be playing at the (free) Shoreham Beach Dreams Festival on Sunday 8th June. Sadly, I won't be able to make it, as I'll be rehearsing for my own musical comeback - a charity concert at Hailsham Pavilion which will take place later that same evening. But if you have the luxury of motor transportation, there's no reason that you can't do both. Oh, and if you want to know the significance of the post title, you'll have to ask Mr Sheldon.

A Little Slice of Brazil in Brighton

Cibelle, Komedia, 3rd April 2008

The first time I heard Cibelle was as a random recommendation on internet radio player Last.fm. I was immediately taken by her distinctive voice, and the chilled Bossa Nova vibe of the song Train, which brought back happy memories of Brazil. So when I saw she was coming to Brighton, I immediately thought of my friend and travelling partner Ezinda, who until very recently had been living in São Paulo, where Cibelle is also originally from. She was up for it, so we arranged to meet up beforehand for our first proper catch up since her return to the UK. Laughing about our Brazilian exploits last year, and planning (less exotic) adventures for the summer put us well in the mood for some nostalgic tunes. The husbands and some other friends joined us at Komedia, and we grabbed a table near the front, expecting it to be quite a mellow affair.

Having seen photos of the pretty Brazilian singer looking sultry in a 50s style floral frock, we were surprised to see her come on stage in a bizarre ensemble that can only be described as a (possibly non-ironic) tribute to Dexy's Midnight Runners - *huge* baggy T-shirt over garish leggings, accessorised with an excess of big scarves, and finished off with a trilby, perched jauntily on a mop of wayward curls. Sideways glances ensued between us all, as we waited to hear what sort of sound would come out of this eccentric looking creature. Glances turned to raised eyebrows as she launched into a totally unexpected experimental electronica intro, the like of which I haven't experienced since I sat open-mouthed and bemused at a Nobukazu Takemura gig at the Old Market a few years ago.

Mercifully though, the rest of the set was closer to what we'd been hoping for - an interesting blend of Latin beats, jazzy vocals and some well-executed live sampling. All credit to Ant for coming up with the phrase 'bossatronica' which perfectly describes the result. It was never quite upbeat enough to get up and dance (though a couple of drunken girls did manage it), but there was plenty of foot-tapping, and even some enthusiastic audience participation at various points. An initially wary audience seemed to warm to Cibelle as her set went on, and by the end we were all whooping for more.

Continuing the Brazilian theme to the evening, we all went for a post-gig caipirinhas at In Vino Veritas, a relatively new wine bar/bistro in the North Laine. There aren't too many places around that area that are open for late night drinking, so it's the perfect spot to roll onto if you're hyped from a great gig at Komedia, and not ready to go home yet. Even the Cachaça Queen herself was impressed at the standard of the cocktails, and especially the fact that the staff were happy to make off-menu drinks for us, so we'll definitely be going back there again.

Retox Weekend

I never understand why so many people decide to detox by giving up booze right after Christmas. January is the most boring, cold and brassic month of the year, so staying sober just seems foolish to me. Much better to save one's dry month (if you must have one at all) until summer, when there's plenty else to do, and everything seems more fun to start with. So I was most perturbed when 'him indoors' announced on New Year's Day that he would be abstaining for the next four weeks. This may have made him feel very virtuous and wholesome, but it actually meant that I ended up drinking twice as much, since I find it almost impossible not to polish off a bottle of wine once opened. It felt like a long month for both of us, so I was most relieved when 1^st February rolled around and I could gleefully thrust a beer into his hand and welcome him back to the land of the lush with open arms. This glad occasion also happened to coincide with a busy weekend of socialising that kicked off with the Concorde 2 21^st birthday party on Friday and rolled into Damien's birthday on Saturday. The Concorde celebrations were most disappointing, and felt more like a sixth form leaver's ball than a swish corporate function at a top live music venue. I didn't even manage to get any decent photographs (except this one below). But Ant's euphoric reunion with beer thankfully distracted him from getting too agitated at the awfulness of it all, and we actually both enjoyed having a bit of a scathe before staggering back up the hill.

Son of Robot at Concorde 2

Saturday's far preferable jollities involved a session in the Regency, which always seems to lead to much singing and campery, followed by Ookey Ook at the Engine Room. I finally got to have a decent boogie (after several abortive attempts in the last few weeks) along to exactly my kind of music, and although the Engine Room unfortunately does smell pretty bad (I don't even want to consider of what), it has a certain seedy charm and is only a short walk from the Regency, a major bonus in such blustery weather as we are currently experiencing. Ookey Ook is a monthly night put on there by the same people who do Born Bad at Komedia, and they play similar sort of 50s/60s swing, soul, ska etc, but it's less girlie-centric. I'm not sure what time we stayed until, but I knew it was time to leave when the boys started doing a three-way pole dance that involved some rather disturbing mutual bum-slapping. See how much better life is under the influence of alcohol...

Brian, Ant & Tim - three-way pole dancing

Seasick!

On Saturday night I celebrated my 32^nd birthday exactly two months late. The delay was down to my bicycle accident back in August, when I fractured my jaw in two places, rendering me unable to party for a while. Having been such a long time coming, and being my first big social occasion since the accident, the sense of anticipation was stronger than for the average party – I was excited and nervous, not least because I had no idea whether my stamina would last out the night. But despite sporting ridiculously high-heeled boots in which it was virtually impossible to walk - let alone dance - and a restrictively tight corset that led to several light-headed episodes, I had a ball! All my friends had risen to the challenge of the theme (Seasick!) with admirable imagination and enthusiasm, making for an impressive array of costumes and characters, and a fantastically silly atmosphere. Some live folk music from The Unisexuals, a misfortune telling booth, a tattoo parlour, and some ‘Stick It On’ type DJ-ing, all helped the night go off with a bang, and by all accounts, a good time was had by all - especially me.

Ben Parker at the Greys and Antibalas at Komedia

When questioned about my musical tastes, I tend to reply "eclectic", and am pleased to say that this claim can now be validated via my musical profile on Last.fm – an excellent music networking site that logs and charts the music you listen to on your computer, shows what your friends are listening to, allows you to make recommendations and find people with similar tastes to you, as well as generating weekly and rolling charts of your most listened to tracks and artists. As both an online geek and passionate music lover, this was a natural addition to my (some would say, excessive) online activity, and I’ve been intrigued to see how my own charts have progressed from week to week, and to discover who are my most musically compatible friends. It came as no shock to see Boo Hewerdine permanently topping the overall list of favourite artists, closely followed by current favourites Arcade Fire, but the rest has been more of a surprise. I have taken to using the ‘generate similar artists’ function as a great way to expand my musical horizons. One of these sessions threw up a track by Antibalas, who I had come across before, on some compilation or other, and liked, so it was a welcome reminder. Then a few days later, I happened to see that they were playing at Komedia, and jumped at the chance to see them live.

At first listen, one could be forgiven for presuming that Antibalas are a classic Africa-funk band, in the Fela Kuti mould. So I was genuinely surprised to see a predominantly white American line-up when they walked on stage, and a middle-aged geeky looking bunch at that. The exception being the lead singer/bongo-player, who obligingly fulfilled the expected cliché, with tribal make-up, dreadlocks and a flamboyant suit. The African vibe certainly dominates the band's overall sound, but there are other, subtler influences which give them an edginess sometimes absent from the more straightforward funk genre. I spent most of the gig possessed by a dancing frenzy that also appeared to have seized the rest of the crowd. It’s impossible not to at least tap a foot along to their infectious rhythms, and the atmosphere was positively banging (not a word I use lightly) as the rambling, fevered funk tunes maintained a consistently contagious pace, keeping everyone on their feet, and grinning manically.

In complete contrast to Friday’s sweaty funk-fest, Monday brought a much gentler evening of live music from the newly solo Ben Parker, formerly one half of cult acoustic duo Ben & Jason. Alongside Boo Hewerdine, Ben & Jason afforded some of the most significant and enduring music of my early adulthood, accompanying and enhancing many of its defining moments - packing my bags to leave home, the first time my future husband told me he loved me, mourning the death of a dear friend - they were always there, providing a soundtrack that was both comforting and challenging, soothing and uplifting. An equally defining moment was the day I heard that B&J were to split - and will happily admit to shedding real tears at their farewell gig at the Jazz Café. I have since maintained an active interest in their respective solo projects – Jason as a successful comedy writer and Ben in his various musical exploits. Now going it alone, with a slightly more mainstream sound, Ben Parker is currently re-establishing his presence on the circuit, with intimate gigs in various pub venues. I was lucky enough to catch one of these at the lovely Greys pub in Hanover – a tiny but well-respected establishment, famous locally for its impressive selection of Belgian beer, and an eclectic live music programme that includes a regular Monday night Folk club.

Ahead of Ben’s headline slot, two local bands – The Boy Who Kicked Pigs and Red Feather – set the tone nicely with mellow folk tunes and friendly banter. The little pub was packed out by the time the man himself came on stage, and there was a buzzy, anticipatory atmosphere among the 30-something, coupley crowd (a distinct departure from the Greys’ usual beardy-fleece-wearing-old-school-folk clientele). Mr Parker had the audience immediately enraptured with an intensely passionate, foot-stamping rendition of Angels & Demons – a catchy pop ballad with folky undertones - and certainly the stand-out track of the night for me. Then suddenly the back of my neck was prickling as Ben demonstrated the true power and quality of his vocals - ditching the microphone and belting un-plugged for a moment during the bittersweet love song Survive the Rain. The combination of that familiar, affecting voice, and some elegantly poignant lyrics had me welling up all over again. I did miss the droll repartee that Mr Hazeley used to bring to the proceedings (no wonder he ended up in comedy), but Parker has certainly proved that he has the necessary to go it alone, and I for one wish him all the best in his burgeoning solo career.

Links
www.last.fm/user/Rowstar
www.antibalas.com
www.myspace.com/benparkermusic
www.myspace.com/theboywhokickedpigs

Recommended Listening

Still mulling over Brazil...

Djinn of the Tin

In between drinking gallons of ale (my new favourite tipple), buying a purple steston and some matching converse trainers, grooving to swing at a working men’s club in the East End, and making several abortive attempts to complete the Guardian crossword with a hangover this bank holiday weekend, I have also inadvertently become a virtual spiritual guide to a complete stranger. Allow me to explain… During the first instalment of Bank Holiday Indulgence (or BHI for short), I was in The Basketmakers with some friends - reading, as you do, the various scribblings stashed within the vintage tins that are nailed to its walls (see my previous blog ‘Brighton’s Best Pubs’). Some of these notes are mildy amusing observations, others barely legible drunken scrawlings. At the same time, Ant was handing out his shiny new Moo cards, and I was suddenly inspired to leave my own diddy calling card (I had them first!) in one of the tins, just to see what would happen. Of course I accepted the fact that I might gain a stalker, or that my image would be torn up and used as roach material by some grateful stoners, but my adventurous streak won over and, egged on by Damien, I picked a suitable tin – fairly high up the wall – in the hope that someone equally adventurous would find me. Two days later, whilst slumming around recovering after another night of BHI with friends in London (see my Flickr page for photographic evidence), I received a photo text of the tin in which I had left my card, simply saying: ‘found u in this tin’. After a few seconds hesitation, I playfully replied: ‘I’m the genie of the tin, you have three wishes… Be careful what you wish for!’, hoping that my finder would be on the same wavelength, and join in my little game. Maybe it’s something about living in Brighton, and the sense of eccentric affinity that exists between many of its residents (particularly in lovely ‘locals’ pubs like The Basketmakers), which made me pretty confident that they would - and my instinct proved right when the following text exchange then took place:

‘Djinn of the Tin, my first wish would be to meet you in the flesh’

‘Ah, but since I am non-corporeal this may prove somewhat problematic.’

‘Ok, ethereal states it is! In that case may my first wish be the privilege to text you at any time as my non-corporeal spirit guide offering astute guidance! Hehe’

‘You may call upon my infinite wisdom as requested, but beware – I shall not be accountable for the consequences of any advice so bestowed…’

‘Your disclaimer is duly noted. I shall not squander the wish that you have granted. Just about to take my first steps into a giant purple cow!’

‘Oh Genie of the Tin, my second wish is to have permission to keep the card that I discovered, rather than returning it to whence it came.’

‘I shall grant this wish, but on the condition that after your third wish, you become the genie and leave your own image in the tin for the benefit of another lost soul.’

‘Oh Genie of the Tin, I will honour the wish that you have granted. I would now call upon your infinite wisdom to ask, are all love stories the same? And what should I serve for dessert this evening?’

‘All love stories have definite similarities, but differ according to the lovers’ individual experience. Personally I favour lime & chocolate cheesecake.’

‘I am most grateful for your words of wisdom this evening. I think we each choose our own paths through each experience life has to offer. Lime and chocolate cheesecake sounds delightful. I shall not disturb you again today.’

I still don’t know whether my wisher is male or female, or anything else about them for that matter, but I am enjoying my new-found status as a virtual spiritual guide, and am rather tickled by this spontaneous/anonymous exchange. I wonder what their third wish will be…

Burlesque Magnet?

While I've been slowly emerging from the surreal and slightly sordid haze that is the Lost Vagueness experience, my life seems to have rather spookily taken a turn for the burlesque... On Wednesday, at a wake of all places, I got chatting to a girl who turned out to be a can-can dancer in her spare time. We enthused over LV, and other similar events with which her troup is involved - and promised to keep in touch. Then last night I was in my local, The Barley Mow in Kemptown, for the regular pub quiz, and found myself sat next to one of the ex-barmaids who, it transpires, is now an erotic dancer with conjuring aspirations! She practised one of her latest card-tricks on me (I was duly impressed), and regaled me with flamboyant tales of nipple-pyrotechnics and public nudity. Having swiftly dispensed with the usual tedious ice-breaking period, we ended up joining forces for the quiz, and bonded over our shared passion for corsetry, travesty and exhibitionism. It was certainly a quiz to remember, even though we only came second (I blame the charmingly distracting prescence of my new friend). I'm starting to feel as though the spirit of Lost Vagueness is following me... perhaps tonight I'll end up on the dancefloor with some fire-eating stilt-walkers? Now that would be amusing...

Links
Ministry of Burlesque
Marlborough Theatre
Les Ooh La Las

Brighton's Best Pubs

Following on from my recent 'Country Pub Rant', I thought I'd share some thoughts on my favourite urban hostelries in my home town (I still can't think of it as a city), Brighton. So here's my top five, in no particular order...

The Barley Mow, Kemptown Village
Although not strictly the closest pub to my home, I still think of this place as my 'local'. It's cosy and traditional, with comfortingly simple and tasty pub grub. The staff are all really amicable, and always acknowledge their regulars, making you feel at home even when you arrive before the rest of your friends (which happens to me a lot - my friends all seem to have a punctuality problem!). There is a huge pile of assorted games in the corner, from Connect 4 to Jenga, and more obscure ones to boot. We've been frequenting this place since we became regular participants in (and fairly regular winners of) the weekly quiz (Thursday nights, from 9ish). Sunday roasts are particularly recommended - the portions are so generous, I've never been able to finish one yet!

The Lion and Lobster, Bedford Place
I used to live practically opposite this lovely, buzzy hang-out, which manages to maintain a 'locals' vibe, despite its central location. There is regular live music, of which Thursday night Jazz is especially good, and the food is pretty tasty as well. The decor is entertainingly eccentric - lots of old showbiz pictures and pages from magazines pasted all over the walls, and an assortment of random ornaments. Since they extended it around the back, there are plenty of dark and seedy hideouts for romantic trysts. I've also used it as overspill accommodation for parties etc (they have rooms upstairs), and am told that it's very comfortable. What's more, they throw in Sunday lunch if you stay there on a Saturday (presumably no-one gets up in time for breakfast!).

The Basketmakers, North Laine
Tucked away in a quiet backstreet, The Basketmakers thankfully escapes the onslaught of retail tourists who flood the North Laine at weekends, and is instead a haven for all kinds of local characters. The walls are covered with an array of vintage style tins (see picture above), into which it is traditional to put handwritten notes for others to read - always a good conversation starter. You can still buy a decent meal for under a fiver, and the beer is reasonably priced for Brighton, making this my top choice for a cheap and cheerful night out in the centre of town.

The Regency, Regency Square
The phrase 'Camp as Christmas' comes to mind when thinking about The Regency, and indeed the festive season is probably the best time to visit in order to fully appreciate the flamboyance of this legendary establishment. Decked out in faux-regency style furnishings, including in the ladies' (I can't speak for the gents', but am told its decor is also rather unique), it has traditionally become something of a pantomime set around Christmas. I sincerely hope that this custom will continue under the new management, since the departure of the fabulous former landlords. It's a great place for 'holding court' on a birthday or special occasion, and I always seem to get drunker than I mean to if I spend a whole evening there.

The George, Trafalgar Street
Although not particularly atmospheric, this one had to make the list purely by virtue of being the only all-vegetarian pub in Brighton, and because it has a non-smoking area, which is a major bonus in my book. There is a little yard out the back which catches the sun in the warmer months, and is covered and heated in the winter. The veggie grub is excellent, as is the selection of beers and organic wines.

Coming soon, 'Top Five Cocktail Bars', meanwhile:

Where did that month go?

It's been a month since my last post, and though I have nothing much of interest to write about, I feel I must scrape together some sort of offering. Although I'm not a Catholic, and have never been to confession, I'm sure it's a similar thing - the need to purge one's subconsious and discharge those random thoughts which clog up the brainwaves. There'll be no disclosing of transgressions here, though...

The last month has been fairly devoid of cultural exploits about which to write, and the social calendar has been somewhat slow as well. What I've been busy doing is changing jobs... after 18 months in Chichester I decided it was time for a change and found myself a cushy gig much nearer home, in Lewes. The plan was to cycle in - to save money and get fit at the same time, but since I don't have a working bike, I've been getting the bus so far. I've discovered that Brighton buses are actually fairly reliable, even sometimes, rather annoyingly, arriving EARLY! My past experiences of using buses regularly were mainly in London when they lived up to that classic reputation of none coming for ages and then three turning up at once. Well, the job is cool, the people are lovely, and it's great being back in good-old Lewes. I've even got a bus buddy in the shape of my friend Tim, who also commutes to Lewes, to work at County Hall. We're having lunch today, and all feels right in the world.

Other stuff that's happened in the last month includes a visit from my Kiwi cousins, which involved a cheesy Brighton day - down the pier, fish & chips, swimming in the sea, buying souvenir Brighton Rock, and shopping in the Lanes. My best friend from school, Kerry, has also been over from Oz, where she now lives, but I only got to see her for one night, as it was a flying, and tightly scheduled, trip. We've had a houseful this week, with two lodgers - a bassonist from Glyndebourne and the lovely Brian, who will be staying for a few weeks before he goes of to do his PGCE in Exeter. He joined us for our regular pub quiz last night, at which we did shamefully - joint 4th - shocking! I put it down to Jo not being there, and the fact that the guest round was sport. Still, it was a fun evening, with much inter-team banter, and a spontaneous chanting of "HE SAID YACK, HE SAID YACK...!" in response to one team member's indignant remark of "I said Yack and none of you believed me". Genius.

The month has not been without its upsets - Mum lost her little Yorkie dog, Zoe, who originally belonged to Granny. I'm not usually a fan of little yappy dogs, but Zoe was real character, and her kooky personality certainly outshone her diminutive physical presence. After hosting a veritable menagerie of pets not so long ago, Mum's now left with just one cat (Go-Tabs) and one dog (Pascha). Then more sad news came yesterday from Ant's Mum that their old and very dear family cat, Dandelion, had died. We took a moment to honour her memory, and I shall do so again here. She was once a very timid, usually invisible, cat, but in recent years had mellowed into a different creature entirely. Last Christmas I took on the job of visiting her regularly in the attic rooms (see above picture), where she was confined because of Eddy and Alison's dog Papi being around. She was pathetically pleased to see me, and covered me in her soft tortoisehell fur, purring and dribbling with affection. I shall miss seeing her when we head North, dear old Dandelion.

Ocelot

I'd never heard of one until last night, but from now on I'll never be able to forget the "painted leopard". Thanks to my ignorance, we lost the pub quiz by only half a point - much worse than doing really badly. Ant had known, or had a hunch that Ocelot was the answer to the question of "what is the name of South America's most common wild cat, also known as the painted leopard?". I'd never heard of one, so stupidly insisted on "jaguar" and Ant was understandably pretty cross when he realised I'd lost us the game. We shouldn't be so competitive about it, but when you've won a few times it becomes addictive. Obviously I need to brush up on my wildlife knowledge. To rub salt in our wounds, I knew the tie-breaker which none of the 3 co-winners could answer when played the first few bars of 10CC's "Dreadlock Holiday". I was particularly on the ball, as I've been listening to a groovy remix of it on the Radio Soulwax album by 2ManyDJs, which is a 'versus' with Destiny's Child.

It was a jolly evening up until the downfall, although I stupidly drunk one too many red wines and am suffering for it today. Well at least it's Friday.

If you don't know what an Ocelot is either, visit: Big Cat Rescue and you'll be enlightened!

Losing streak

Feeling a bit down-cast today after our first defeat in weeks at the Barley Mow pub quiz. I am sure they made the questions more difficult because of us. This was on top of the news that Mum's dear old cat Peridot had to be put to sleep yesterday. I spent the first twenty minutes sitting in the pub alone (as Jo was running late), contemplating Peri's passing and remembering her quirks. She was a very indignant cat, always demanding something - be it affection, food or access. I rescued her from a vet surgery in Wales when visiting my Granny with my then boyfriend, Chris. She wasn't having any of the cat-carry box, and kept yowling and shitting in it, so eventually we let her out and she sat on my lap, contentedly looking out of the window all the way back to Eastbourne! She loved a fuss and was one of the only cats I've known who loved having her tummy rubbed vigorously. I shall remember her fondly. I suppose it is only fitting that we should have lost the quiz for once, as it would have felt wrong to be celebrating anyway. The night was not without its jollity though - we raised a toast to Peri's memory and got chatting with a pretty boy who lives in France, apparently.