March Madness: Too Busy to Blog

March is nearly over and I find have completely failed to write about any of the recent cultural, culinary and societal diversions that have been pleasantly propelling me out of hibernation and into spring. So before another month goes by without a post, here is a whistle stop tour of the past month's activities.

Elaine Paige at the Congress Theatre, Eastbourne

This was always going to be more about comedy value than highbrow entertainment, but none of us were quite prepared for the pathos of EP's latest tour. As Natalie, Kim, Damien and I giggled, exchanging arched-eyebrowed glances, Ant sunk further into his seat as the diminutive diva insisted on flashing her stocking tops in a far too tight and far from flattering frock, whilst virtually dry humping her (much younger) male backing singer. I could have forgiven the inappropriate dress and lecherous granny behaviour if her singing had been on form, but unfortunately it was not. Apart from a couple of punchier tracks - one from Chess and 'I'm Still Here' from Follies - the vocals were disappointing. Sad, because EP could really belt it back in the day. Probably time to call it day and stick to Sunday afternoon radio instead.

Club Tokyo at the Towner Gallery, Eastbourne

At last, a club night for people like me - in Eastbourne. Brighton music promoters Melting Vinyl paired up with the Towner to put on a Japanese themed night, in honour of the Tomoaki Suzuki exhibition that was on at the time. It sounded like a promising collaboration, so Ant and I threw together what vaguely Japanese garb we could muster and went down to see what it was all about.We found an enthusiastic and friendly gathering of Eastbourne's alternative crowd - waifs and strays who presumably have nowhere else to go on a Saturday night and would normally be at dinner parties or over in Brighton. I was disappointed in the lack of interesting music on offer, but it was a very pleasant evening nonetheless. I hope to see more of the same coming up in the near future.

The Decemberists at the De La Warr Pavilion, Bexhill

The night that Crabsinthe* was invented. But before that legendary moment was an equally legendary gig. See for yourself:

Kent Mini Break

A break from the 9-5 grind was needed, so we drove up to the Kent coast for a few days to explore bits we've never explored before, including Deal, Broadstairs, Sandwich, Ramsgate and Margate. The weather was miserably overcast the whole time, so we spent most of it seeking out places to stuff ourselves full of cake and other delectable treats. Foodie highlights included The Black Douglas and 81 Beach Street in Deal, Boho in Canterbury and the Winchelsea Farm Kitchen (in Sussex, not Kent). But the highlight of the trip was discovering the most unexpectedly alternative pub, The Blue Pigeons, in the tiny village of Worth where we were staying. Having popped in there for a pint while waiting for our B&B to open, we ended up going back for dinner and staying til closing, getting drunk with the locals - amongst whom was Sophie Parkin. If you're ever down that way, be sure to pay the place a visit - and tell the very glamorous rockabilly landlady that we said hello.

The Impellers at Coalition, Brighton

My big Brighton night out. Not my usual taste in music but a fun evening of drinking and bopping to funky tunes with a gang of my lovely colleagues.

The Unthanks at the De La Warr Pavilion, Bexhill

And in a complete change of pace, the next night Ant and I went to see The Unthanks, though we very nearly didn't make it. Ant had been at a stag party the night before and could barely function, but he dragged himself along and was glad he did. It was a really sensational gig, that reduced an already fragile Ant to a gibbering, overawed wreck. This was the song that really did for him, though it's taken from a TV performance as no cameras were allowed at the De La Warr:

Twestival at the Smugglers Loft, Brighton

Somehow I managed to get myself involved in the last few weeks of organising this Twitter fundraising event, which despite a few technical hitches, went off brilliantly and made £3.5k for local charity, The Crew Club. If you don't already know what a Twestival is, or want to find out what happened at ours, my colleague Ben did a write up on our company blog. I also took a few photos, which should give you a flavour:

Spamalot at the Congress Theatre, Eastbourne

Twestival hangover in tow, I pootled down to meet Damien, Olly, Mum, Dad, Pete and Ali at the Buccaneer for a pre-theatre drink. The show was very appropriate hangover entertainment - not in the least bit challenging, just gently amusing. It's unashamedly cashing in on the Python legacy, but if you go in knowing that, you'll probably have a good time. As ever, Mum and I found ourselves laughing at bits that noone else did and as ever, I found myself turning round to tell someone off behind me. This time it was an annoying nerd who was quoting (and indeed misquoting) all the punchlines about 30 seconds before they were said on stage. I asked him if he knew the meaning of internal dialogue and that seemed to shut him up. My favourite bit of the show was the original songs, such as "This is the Song that Goes Like This" and "Whatever Happened to my Part?", both of which are particularly funny to those of us who have trundled our way though many a summer season and bad amdram production.


So that was just about as much excitement as I can handle in one month. I think I'll have a quiet night in tonight.

*Crabsinthe = a cocktail made from Crabbies alcoholic ginger beer and absinthe. Highly recommended, utterly dangerous.

Twestival Strikes Again

Have you heard about Twestival? It's a global Twitter meet-up that happens every six months or so in hundreds of cities around the world.

At the first Twestival a year ago, I didn't really know anyone except my other half (aka @meeware) and my then brand new boss (aka @rogerwarner) - whose presence ensured that I remained sober and sensible for the duration. It all felt a little cliquey but I met a couple of cool people and it led to some fruitful online conversations in the following months. I did a little write-up of Twestival 1 on the Content & Motion blog if you're interested.

Twestival 2 was a whole different kettle of fish. @meeware was away and I'd ditched the 'no drinking in front of the boss' policy. There were quite a few more familiar faces, if only recognisable from their Twitter avatars. There was role play and murder mystery which really broke the ice and got everyone out of their cliques. 

After an excellent night of non-stop ranting and a fair bit of dancing, I ended up at the infamous Bulldog pub (of all places) until four in the morning with a gaggle of hardcore Twitter reprobates. Classy. The picture on the right (by Clive Flint) shows me pulling a classic "I'm not at all drunk, oh no, not me" face, about half way into the evening. Thank goodness there are none from later in the night.

Tomorrow night (Thursday 25th) it's time for Brightwest 3, I'm going with a whole crew of recently converted Twitter cohorts and am all set to DJ - I just hope the Brighton Twitterati are ready for my eclectic selection. This time there's a Speakeasy theme and we're being encouraged to dress up, as if I needed persuading.

As always, the proceeds all go to charity and loads of fabulous goodies have been donated for an auction and  'Twombola'. So if you're a Brighton Twitter person, or even a Brighton non-Twitter person who'd like to see what all the fuss is about, you should definitely come along. Tickets are available online or at the door. Here's a map, too, just in case you get lost. If you're a non Brightonian reading this, you can find your nearest Twestival via the official website. Come on, it'll be fun.

Bring Back Trevor and Simon

Whenever confronted about my 'unconventional' sense of humour, I tend to blame the Dada comedy on which I was raised - Monty Python, The Bonzos, The Goons and co. These guys certainly gave me an appreciation of the surreal, but the drollery and sarcasm can be traced back to a much more contemporary source - those legends of Saturday morning kids' TV, Trevor and Simon.

During my formative teenage years, Trevor and Simon punctuated the weekends with their sardonic sketches and eccentric, often manic or contemptuous characters. Say to anyone of my generation "swing your pants" or "let's roll on the floor" and it's guaranteed to raise a smile of nostalgic recognition. We loved Trevor and Simon because they were the least patronising children's "entertainers" of the time, and best of all, because they ripped the piss out of many an annoying celebrity on Going Live and Live and Kicking. I was such a fan that I even went to see them live - at Brighton Dome in 1991.

Looking at the more offbeat character-based comedy shows of today - Mighty Boosh, Little Britain, Mitchell and Webb - all written by and starring 30-somethings who grew up in the 80s and 90s - it seems obvious that they owe a debt (whether conscious or not) to Trevor and Simon's silly Saturday antics. But whatever happened to our deadpan childhood heroes? By the late nineties we were all off at university and sleeping in on Saturday mornings and they seemed to have disappeared into obscurity; the much-loved Stupid Video started gathering dust on the shelf. Occasionally I would hear of other projects they had going like the Circus of Evil at Edinburgh Festival, but they never seemed to find another niche outside of their original territory.

Then just the other week, Ant came home with amusingly windswept hair and a sporting new goatee, when suddenly Trevor and Simon's World of the Strange popped into my head. Of course I went straight onto YouTube to substantiate the comparison, and found myself heading off on a right old trip down memory lane. This in turn led to a string of other online discoveries, including the revelation that Trevor and Simon were on Twitter (why had I never thought to look before?). But best of all, I found their blog, on which is published a Trevor and Simon podcast.

Having listened to the latest podcast in the series, I am pleased to report that the duo have lost none of their bantering chemistry and are still as waggishly witty as ever. It was a delight to find myself immersed in a world of strange tangents and acerbic rants, delivered by the comfortingly familiar voices of my childhood heroes. The other five installments I am saving for an upcoming roadtrip Up North. All power to the duo for taking the task of a Trevor and Simon renaissance upon themselves - welcome back boys, we've missed you!

Links

Latest Trevor and Simon podcast.

Trevor and Simon's blog (you can also download the other podcasts here)

Simon Hickson's blog

Trev and Simon on Twitter

Simon Hickson on Twitter

Trevor Neal on Twitter

When the Twit Hits the Fan

If you follow me on Twitter you may have been party to an unfortunate 'twincident' recently in which I had to apologise to a neighbour who'd taken offence at a couple of my tweets complaining about his sound polluting activities. Admittedly, my comments were on the scathing side, but if he had ever bothered to get to know me, my neighbour would have realised that the barbed humour on which he found himself at the receiving end is not generally to be taken seriously. Even my closest, dearest friends are accustomed to being insulted on a regular basis - it is just the nature of my humour. In fact the language to which he took particular offence was a quote from a TV programme we were watching at the time - which just goes to show that you should never jump to infer an insult from a statement without knowing its full context.

I'll make no secret of the fact we don't get on with 'them upstairs' - things started out cordially, but far from warm, and lately we've been lucky if we're acknowledged in passing with as much as a grunt. We tried to make the effort in the early days, but our social invitations were never even acknowledged and attempts to be friendly, unrequited. And it's not the first time we've come to blows over noise levels - sometimes it's like living inside a drum, and every now and then they properly drop the bomb. Our attempts to deal with these incidents in a rational, friendly manner have always incurred the most defensive and indignant responses. They have made it quite clear - stated it to our faces, and in company so loudly we could hear it downstairs - that they have no respect or consideration for us.

It was particularly unfortunate that on this occasion they had caught us during an already stressful weekend; for deeply personal reasons which I shall not go into here, we were both feeling extremely on edge. So when the music started thumping out, accompanied by loud stamping around on the ineffectually insulated floor/ceiling that divides us, we threw out a couple of frustrated but hardly serious tweets. Why? Because we know from bitter experience that an hour can very easily lead to eight, neither of us could face another confrontation, and we both needed a decent night's sleep.

In hindsight I admit that my Twitter outburst may have seemed OTT, but was it really any worse than the insults we've often over heard them throwing our way during previous domestic disputes, just because it was published online? If they'd been nicer and more considerate neighbours to begin with, it would never have come to this. Based on our previous interactions, I'm sure they won't see it that way, and of course there's a good chance they'll be reading this and fuming.

It is not my intention in writing this to further aggravate the situation, but I would like them to see it from our point of view. Not content with blitzing our domestic peace on a regular basis, they're out there, reading this and every other online utterance we make, anonymously stalking our every move - when they can't even bring themselves to talk civilly to us in person. We find this disturbing. There's not a lot we can do about it, but I only hope that when and if they read this, they'll realise how completely unreasonable they have been, and we can begin to get back on cordial terms. Once, we had hoped to build friendships, as we have with many other neighbours here and elsewhere over the years. Now we just want a bit of peace and quiet, and not to feel threatened in our own home.

***

With huge thanks to Ant for his contributions to this post, and for the ongoing moral support without which everyday life would be much more of a trial.

In Which I Finally Get Frocked Up and Go Dancing

You wait five months for a big night out, then two come along at once... I may occasionally possibly have mentioned once or twice lately my frustrations about not having been out dancing since my birthday back in September. It was a sorry state of affairs, which I am relieved to report has now been rectified with a double whammy of social festivities.

Brighton Twestival, 12th Feb

On Thursday Ant and I joined the Brighton Twitterati for Brightwest at the Black Lion, part of the global Twestival fundraiser, which I've already written about for the C&M blog. It was a fun evening of putting real faces to avatars and shooting the breeze with like minded, passionate and interesting people. Unlike the majority of attendees - whose morning-after hangover Tweets provided much amusement - I stayed sober for the duration, which was just as well because Friday night brought an altogether more epic and energetic adventure...

Last Tuesday Society Ball, 13th Feb

One of London's many 'alternative' nightlife purveyors, The Last Tuesday Society has been putting on weird and wacky events since 2006. The latest (and reportedly final) event was an anti-Valentine's affair entitled 'Loss' which took place, appropriately, on Friday 13th. I was there with the lovely Angell, whose acquaintance I made almost exactly two years ago at another alternative night - from the currently dormant Lost Vagueness. After fuelling up with vintage rum and hearty pasta on board Angell's cosy houseboat, we made our way to Notting Hill, where a queue was building up outside the Tabernacle. Most had made a decent effort with their attire (the theme being 'Decaying Beauty'), but as always there were one or two conspicuously under dressed punters, who were frankly just begging to be mocked.

Inside, peacock feathers were being handed out in a half-hearted attempt to furnish those without costumes, but unfortunately there was no dressing up area like at Lost Vagueness, leaving the towny element at the mercy of our ongoing contempt. Embarking on the obligatory exploration of the venue, with which neither of us was familiar, we discovered an atmospheric central room with a stage and dancefloor, and a surrounding mezzanine - perfect for people-watching. The rest of the space was a warren of less theatrical flourescently-lit side rooms and corridors, where various activities such as onion chopping (to make you cry) and a life drawing class had been laid on. It was in such areas that our more colourful encounters occurred, though the dancefloor did afford some quite sociable dancing episodes.

The highlight of my night - apart from Angell's charming company of course - was a storytelling session in a tiny side room, for which we demanded that the annoyingly intrusive lights be switched off. Six or seven of us huddled in a broom cupboard in the dark were just able to make out the flowing ginger hair and emphatic expressions of our rakish raconteur, who treated us to a spellbinding Arthurian tale, told faultlessly from memory. The gloriously sonorous storyteller was Giles Abbott, a true stalwart luvvie (in the best possible way) if ever there was one.

Both the live bands we saw were good fun, particularly The Guillotines, whose Saxophonist I'm sure I recognised from Brighton. I particularly relished flagellating the singer (upon his request, I might add) with a large stuffed tiger which had been pulled from one of the many bundles of cuddly toys hanging from the ceiling. An 'avant-garde' (i.e. wanky) drag mime act died on its feet and spelled the beginning of the end when punters began to boo and throw things at the stage. It didn't help that the bar had run out of spirits by 1am (note to self: conceal hip flask in stockings in future), and people were getting increasingly tetchy about it. But despite these slight hiccups, the atmosphere was a friendly one, and we had an excellent night of random conversations and wanton mischief.

Back at the boat, Angell and I polished off the best part of a bottle of rum and stayed up chatting til sunrise. I can't remember the last time I did that, and it was especially magical to do so from inside a houseboat on the Thames, which provided a most stunningly dramatic view. The following day was spent watching the world go by on the river whilst listening to an eclectic selection of tunes and reminiscing about our exploits the night before. I finally dragged myself back to Brighton in the early evening, feeling far less wretched that I ought to have done considering, and with my dancefloor cravings firmly sated.

More photos from the Last Tuesday Society Ball at: www.flickr.com/photos/rowstar

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