Born Pirate

Piratechno, Komedia, 19th Jan 08

Last Friday was set to be my big comeback into the world of clubbing, after a protracted absence since the accident. I'd been psyching myself up all week, all month in fact, for a girlie evening of cocktails and dancing at Brighton's best retro night, Born Bad at Komedia. But my immune system had other ideas - landing me with yet another stinking cold and having to cancel my plans at the last minute. I was relieved, if a little frustrated, that said cold had conveniently disappeared by Saturday morning (why couldn't it have abated just one night earlier?!). But thankfully all hope of a sociable weekend was not completely lost - and I set about digging out my corset and stripes for a pirate-themed night hosted by swashbuckling troubadours, Piratechno. Boasting genuine pirate blood (according to my stepmother, the genealogist), my fondness for all things piratical runs deep, and I never feel more at home than with a bottle of rum in my hand, decked out in the flamoyantly theatrical clobber popularly associated with these sea-faring fiends (see previous evidence here and here). I was delighted to discover a whole room full of equally enthusiatically-garbed punters skulking around the suitably dingy back bar at Komedia, making me feel instantly at home. Being armed with a conspicuous camera in a room full of exhibitionists always seems to be a great way of making friends, so there I was - snapping away, occaisionally stopping to have a jig along with the crazy dancing wenches - utterly in my element, thinking, 'why can't every night be Pirate Night?'

Back to School

It'll be ten years this summer since I graduated from university, and apart from the odd work training course, I've done little in the way of formal learning since those happy years studying at Roehampton. So it was a bit of a shock to the system to find myself re-entering the pedagogical environment last night, for the first class of my photography course at Varndean college. I'd signed up last year, after giving in to the digital revolution and getting myself a swanky Nikon D40x digital SLR camera - having been previously happy with my trusty old Olympus OM10 (which I do still use by the way). My recent foray into gig photography necessitated the change, and having access to endless photographic books and magazines via my work, I was eventually convinced to make the transition. Overwhelmed by the amount of functions and unused potential of the new digital beast, I went in search of help online, and stumbled across an evening class entitled 'Creative Digital SLR Photography' which seemed absolutely perfect for my needs. I also let my friend and flickr buddy Shaun know about the course, as he'd recently acquired a Canon EOS 350D, and felt, like me, that he wasn't making the best use of it (although I happen to think that his photos are already far superior to mine - partly because he's also more savvy with the photoshop trickery!). Our first lesson was mostly a general introduction to the course, and a chance for the teacher to assess what people were hoping to get from it, but already I'm feeling inspired, and raring to get snapping for our first assignment. We've been tasked with taking 20 photos, in succession, with no editing or deleting - the subject being 'landscape'. This is a slightly intimidating prospect for me, being much more of a people photographer, but I shall certainly rise to the challenge with new-found enthusiasm. Meanwhile, here's a rare landscape snap of mine from a recent holiday, taken in the picturesque town of Bouillon, Belgium, first thing in the morning:

More photos from our wonderful pre-Christmas jaunt can be seen on my flickr page: http://www.flickr.com/photos/rowstar/sets/72157603558215940

Bad Tapas

After so much hardcore partying over the festive season, I was quite relieved when Jo decided to opt for the more civilised option of a sit down meal for her birthday celebrations at the weekend. Her first choice - the wonderfully rustic Casa Don Carlos in the Lanes - was fully booked, so she’d taken a chance on Pinxto People, a swish-looking upmarket tapas place on Western Road. Intrigued by its modern take on traditional Spanish food, and impressed with the stylish décor, we were keen to sample the fayre. Sadly it seemed that the staff were not so eager to satisfy our expectations, and were officious to the point of rudeness from the outset. Challenging our ability to choose our own dishes and trying to pressure us into accepting their own selection (at a suggested £40 a head) our waiter immediately put our collective backs up – perhaps not realising what a feisty bunch of discerning foodies he was dealing with. His second mistake was in withholding our wine until seeing fit to refill our glasses – a situation we soon rectified in an amusing covert operation that involved whisking the bottle from a neighbouring table when no one was looking, and stashing it under the table. All very entertaining, but not necessarily what one would expect to occur during a supposedly slap-up meal. When our food finally arrived, there was a general disbelief at the size of portions, bearing in mind that most of the meat dishes came in at around £12.

Style over substance

My veggie options were limited (admittedly more so by my ongoing dental problems), and my chosen ‘Txick (get it?) peas and fake txorizo (groan) with goat cheese’ resembled nothing more than a tin of chick peas poured onto a plate and vaguely seasoned, with a tiny blob of cheese at each corner - and tasted just as disappointing. The others were generally unimpressed with their meat and fish choices, which were on the whole a classic case of style over substance. I am not against the idea of experimental cuisine in principle, but it can be tricky to pull off, especially with something as traditionally comforting as tapas. Give me the rustic dishes and cheerful staff at Casa Don Carlos or La Tapa De Oro (previously Ipanema) any day. Minimalist tapas just doesn’t work. Post dinner cocktails at Koba across the road helped raise everyone’s spirits after such an unsatisfactory dining experience, and the company at least was consistently excellent all night.

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.

Music is the New Religion: Iron & Wine at St George's

A couple of weeks ago I went to see Iron & Wine at St George's church in my local village of Kemp Town. This still functional place of worship also serves as one of the best live music venues in Brighton - used regularly by top promoters Melting Vinyl to showcase an eclectic offering of alternative bands and artists. As well as boasting an amazing acoustic, thanks to its beautiful barrel vaulted ceiling, the church affords an unrivalled atmosphere that can turn a great gig into an almost spiritual experience. I'm pretty confident that the place never attracts such a prodigious crowd in respect of its primary religious function (other than possibly at Christmas), and I personally find it pleasing that in a time of widespread spiritual apathy, this lovely building has found another means to inspire the masses. Perhaps the most memorable moment of the gig, and a testament to the warm-fuzzy feeling engendered by the surroundings, was an amusingly middle-class and unusually friendly heckle between songs, when someone shouted: "This is brilliant, thanks" - a refreshing change from the typically inarticulate, and often disparaging cries, to which any regular gig-goer will have become accustomed. And it was certainly a most justified exclamation, judging by the collective whoops of agreement, which included my own enthusiastic seal of approval.

Hurrah for the Underdog

Last night I went to see Wicked for the third time - a Halloween outing organised by the lovely Neel, and a (very) belated birthday treat from me to Jo. I shall refrain from waxing lyrical about the show itself, as I have already blogged about it excessively, but I wanted to give well-deserved a nod to Cassidy Janson - the current Elphaba understudy - who was standing in for Kerry Ellis last night. Much of the cast has changed since Wicked opened in the West End just over a year ago, when the awesome Idina Menzel stole the show in the leading role. I was delighted to witness in Janson much that was lacking from (Menzel's successor) Ellis's execution of this intimidatingly demanding part - most notably a refreshing humility which suited the underdog nature of the role. Ellis had seemed too self-consciously starry when I saw her earlier this year, and also irritated the hell out of me with her grating Americanisation of the songs. Janson managed to avoid this trap, into which many British performers seem to fall these days - for which she scores huge brownie points in my critical eyes. Her diminuitve physical presence was more than made up for by a natural stage-presence that brought the necessary weight to the complex character of the wicked (or is she?) witch. So, hurrah for the underdog... or in this case, the understudy!

Cassidy Janson singing No Good Deed from Wicked

Middle Farm Apple Festival 2007

Having been absent from the party circuit for over six weeks now, it is with some trepidation that I have started re-introducing myself, and so The Middle Farm Apple Festival seemed the perfect non-threatening event at which to gently dip a toe into the social pond. I am a big fan of Middle Farm anyway, and a regular customer at their famous cider barn, which houses the National Cider & Perry Collection, as well as an impressive selection of real ales, fruit wines and liqueurs, and most importantly, pretty much every type of mead one could hope for. Their annual Apple Festival is a family-friendly event with local bands, fair-rides, food stalls, sheep-racing, Morris dancing, and gallons and gallons of cider. After popping into the Blind Lemon vintage fashion fair in Brighton on Sunday morning, I arrived at Middle Farm just in time to catch Carnival Collective, who describe themselves as: “a thriving group of musicians, dancers and artists...[combining] break-beat percussion, reggae, funk, house and other dance influences - played on traditional Brazilian instruments - with a rocking brass section, funky dancers and unique costumes and visuals.” This tres Brighton set-up brought the enthusiastically appreciative audience into a dancing frenzy - where it was heartening to see yummy mummies, crusties, kiddies, scarily blacked-up Morris Men (hmmm) and other random cider-fuelled red-eyed punters bopping happily together in the hay.

After a spot of fantastic people-watching and general mooching about in the sunshine, I spotted some friends and hooked up for the rest of the afternoon to watch Django Spears and the Mountain Firework Company. It was also good to have company in the heaving cider barn, where I purchased some Gregg's Pitt Hertforshire cider, apparently a rare find, and certainly extremely pleasing to my own critical taste buds. I also took a chance on some parsnip wine, which I have yet to sample, but am looking forward to sharing with Ant when he returns from his weekend away. Spotting a huge queue of traffic heading back towards Brighton on the A27, I turned left out of Middle Farm and took the scenic route along the coast via Alfriston and Newhaven. This also afforded me a prime view of the stunning autumnal sunset, rounding off the day beautifully.

Nothing to Blog About

It's now been over six weeks since I fell off my bike and fractured my jaw, and I'm still off work, cursed with sleepless nights due to ongoing pain and discomfort. I haven't been blogging, largely because I've had nothing to blog about, being stuck at home. You'd think that having so much time off work would have encouraged me to do something creative - read all those books that have been piling up; learn how to use the swanky new camera I'd just been bought; start writing that novel I've always talked about. But no, the sad truth is, I have done NOTHING for the last few weeks. Well, nothing meaningful anyway. So, what have I been doing when I've been doing nothing? Sleeping, mostly... Since the accident I have yet to sleep through a night, being woken by an assortment of aches and pains – jaw, teeth, head, ears (they just decided to get in on the act in the last few nights), and so I've been laying in most days, and dozing during the day. I have also lost many hours to the various DVD boxed sets with which my good friend Tim supplied me – and am now a firm convert to the compellingly silly '24', in spite of my better judgement. I guess that however bad life feels for me right now, Jack Bauer probably has it worse, as he frantically fights fends off yet another earth-shattering threat to humanity – which rather puts things into perspective! I've done a little bit of work from home, keeping up to speed with my emails, so at least I don't have to face an overflowing inbox on my return. There's been a steady stream of visitors – including my darling 3-year-old nephew Isaac and his daddy (my brother), who came to stay overnight for the first time in ages. This reminded me how restorative the presence of children can be in times of crisis. Unlike my grown-up visitors, Isaac had no real conception of my maladies, and continued with his toddler demands and needs – a refreshing change of focus away from me. I much enjoyed winning the little boy's favour by introducing him to the indulgent joys of watching TV in bed (not something I ever do, but our spare room where he sleeps does have a TV & VCR), at which point any wariness he may have had about his auntie immediately evaporated, as we cuddled up under the duvet watching The Clangers and Bod.

My nephew, Isaac, with Natalie's little boy, Reggie in Queen's Park

I've indulged in a little well-needed pampering, courtesy of Ant, who treated me to a massage for my birthday. Then today I went for a haircut, and decided to change my style completely – a symbolic new start for my imminent return to civilisation. Despite my ongoing grievances, I am planning to return to the office next week, not least to preserve my sanity. It will be a long while before I am 100% back to my old self, as I still have much dental work to get done, and this has to wait until my jaw is fully healed, but being back at my desk and seeing my colleagues again will hopefully give me some semblance of normality. Meanwhile, I still have five more days to try and do something constructive. Or I could just finish season 2 of 24....