Penguin Cafe at Brighton Dome

In 1997, so the story goes, Ant had tickets to see The Penguin Cafe Orchestra in Manchester, but his hopes of seeing them live were dashed when founder Simon Jeffes died suddenly of a brain tumour. A couple of years later, when Ant and I started dating in Brighton, Penguin Cafe Orchestra's Concert Program was one of only a handful of CDs he owned and I quickly became a fan. Their unique folk/classical fusion has brought comfort and inspiration throughout the last decade or so of our life together and remains an oft chosen soundtrack to many an activity in our house.

The loss of Simon Jeffes and the demise of his wonderful orchestra was clearly more upsetting than any personal disgruntlement over the unusable concert tickets, but Ant has always expressed regret at never having seen Penguin Cafe Orchestra perform during their many touring years. Last weekend we were able to assuage that regret a little by going to see a new lineup assembled by Jeffes' son Arthur, now touring under the name Penguin Cafe. Continuing his father's musical legacy into the 21st Century with fresh arrangements and new compositions, Jeffes Jnr's output is very much in the spirit of the original and clearly a heartfelt tribute.

Supporting Penguin Cafe at Brighton Dome on Friday night were Portico Quartet, a modern jazz ensemble that lived up to its promise of modern jazz with admirable immoderation. But by the time Penguin Cafe had started their set in the second half, I was so swept up that I had all but forgotten the noodling jazz. Playing a mixture of crowd-pleasing old favourites and his own material, interspersed with touching anecdotes about his father, Jeffes had the audience (including me) in raptures.

Folding classical structures around folk, bluegrass and other World Music influences, the Penguin Cafe's music has always had the ability to unravel me and was the perfect Friday night tonic after a busy week. Essentially an augmented string quartet (violin, viola, cello, double bass) accompanied by ukeleles, guitars, piano, harmonium and percussion, the new pared down lineup nevertheless managed to capture the essence of the original (which featured oboe, trombone, fluegelhorn and accordion among other instruments). The difference was only really tangible on a couple of pieces that felt rather flat without brass. Other than that, it was a thoroughly enjoyable gig and we both came away feeling soothed and restored.

The current Penguin Cafe tour is now over, but you can catch them live at various festivals in the UK this summer. And I strongly recommend that you do. 

The 90s Eastbourne Nightclub Hall of Fame

Being back in Eastbourne has stirred a lot of long lost memories, especially when I keep bumping into old friends and reminiscing about our misspent youths here. The other morning I was sitting with a friend on the train into work, attempting to recall the names of all the Eastbourne nightclubs we once frequented and wondering what became of them. We realised that only one place out of all those old haunts has remained almost exactly as it was in name and style - and that is the legendary (for all the wrong reasons) TJs. But what about all the other dancing dives in which much of our teenage years were wasted?

Those I can remember, I have added (with commentary - click on a placemark to read) to this Google map :

View Eastbourne's 90s Nightclubs in a larger map

Please tell me if I have missed any classic 90s Eastbourne nightclubs from the list and share your anecdotes (if you can actually remember anything from those addled years).

Things I Love About Eastbourne #2: The South Downs

True, the South Downs are not exclusive to Eastbourne, stretching as they do all the way from Beachy Head to the River Meon valley in Hampshire. And indeed I have spent many happy Sundays exploring the downland around Brighton, from Castle Hill at Woodingdean out to Ditchling Beacon, Devil's Dyke and all the way along to Cissbury ring. But there is something about the way Eastbourne's downland is visible from most of the town that makes it feel more familiar and friendly - an ever-present protector shielding us from the world beyond. As I child I imagined the sloping green humps of hillside to be sleeping dinosaurs (if you have ever read Dinosaurs and all that Rubbish, you will know where that notion stems from), ready to yawn and stretch into life at any moment. They were a place of magic and wonder and coming back to them brings much delight.

From my new house, I can walk up onto the Downs in less than ten minutes, with the bulk of that walk being through the elegant manor gardens of Gildredge Park. At the other side of the park I come to a lush green golf course - where the very polite golfers refrain from hitting balls while I walk across the footpath that crosses it - and come out at the bottom of Paradise Drive, in whose woods, so the story goes, my brother was conceived. A stomp up the hill brings me out at the Dew Pond, where the ashes of a beloved family pet were once scattered and around which many games of Star Wars were played during childhood dog walks. On a clear day you can see right across to Beachy Head, and out to the jaggedy spur of land that is Hastings on the other side. This picture was taken in 1998, when I brought a gang of London friends down for a visit. I hope they'll come again now that I am back and spoiling for more hill-bound adventures. Others are welcome too, of course.

More lovely pictures of the South Downs can be found on Idleformat's Flickr profile. Watch this space for more from me.

Things I Love About Eastbourne #1: The Marine at Christmas

Now that I'm settling back into Eastbourne life after fifteen years away, I'm actively seeking out all the things I missed about the place during my Brighton and London years. As well as being a bit of a nostalgia kick, it also helps stave off any potential regrets about leaving Brighton, reassuring me that I have made the right decision coming back.

As the festive season is drawing to an end, today felt like the perfect time to head to the Marine pub, whose epic Christmas decorations are legendary. It's a nice enough pub at any time of year and for me holds many memories of happy times with amdram cohorts, but in December the Marine transforms into a sparkling grotto of festive kitsch, a shimmering marvel of a place. Any Brighton people who remember the Regency's glory days may recall its OTT decorations, but that was but a token gesture in comparison to the Marine's gloriously garish shrine to Christmas camp. Behold:

If only Ant had worn a more fittingly festive jumper, the scene would be complete. Maybe next year.

My Favourite Songs of 2010

More than photos, diary entries or spoken anecdotes, music is the most dependable keeper of memories; a song has the power to conjure a lost moment from the dusty archives of the heart and brain, bringing it into vivid life once more. For the last few years I have made an annual compilation of the music that has punctuated the year, to share with friends and for my own posterity. Looking back at each mix, I can tell a lot about the happenings of any particular year and the sort of mood I was in.

On the first day of 2011, here are my favourite and most poignant songs from last year - each holds a memory or moment and all were released in 2010. There seems to be a prevalence of ethereal female artists, muddled with a generous helping of proggy post-rock and the occasional splash of cheesy electro. I don't know what this says about my mood, but it was certainly a year of ups and downs. As I sit here in my new house (house!) suffering the after effects of too many prosecco and mead cocktails last night, it feels like a fitting soundtrack.

I hope you'll enjoy my playlist and perhaps treat yourself to one or two of the most excellent albums from which these songs come. I heartily welcome your own recommendations of 2010 musical discoveries and favourites, too.

Create a MySpace Playlist at MixPod.com

Ten Years in Brighton: A Retrospective

On Monday I am moving back to Eastbourne, after a decade of living in Brighton. Most people, when I tell them this, look at me in a puzzled way and ask "why would you want to do that?". Or politely lament my departure whilst clearly thinking the same thing. There are many reasons for the move, not least the desire to live in a bigger place with an upstairs and the prohibitively expensive housing market that makes doing this in Brighton impossible. It's also about family and friends, many of whom are there. 

Brighton has been so much fun and I have absolutely loved every moment of living here - even the dramas, fallouts, bust-ups and hangovers. I've met some truly inspirational characters who I hope will be friends for life. I have lived it up and indulged in all the cultural and hedonistic pursuits that this brilliantly bohemian city has to offer. And I don't plan on giving those things up, but I do find myself increasingly craving the peace and quiet of home. 

To be able to walk all the way along the seafront - from the marina to the beautiful Italian gardens at Holywell, even on a Saturday - without having to fight my way through hoardes of holidaymakers, merrymakers and troublemakers. To walk through town without being bombarded by f**king hipsters at every turn. To be able to walk round to Mum's or my sister's and to help out more with my gorgeous nephew, who is growing up so quickly.

As I sit here surrounded by boxes, getting ready to move, I can't help but look back on all the events and happenings of the last ten years in Brighton and all the wonderful things about living here. Here are a few classic memories and Brighton traditions that spring to mind.

New Year's Eve 1999/2000, aka The Millennium Party

Although I wasn't officially living in Brighton at this point, Ant was, and we were in the first heady days of our courtship - the beginning of our Brighton adventure together. Pedants may say that strictly speaking the millennium was the following year, but everyone knows that we partied like it was 1999 in, well, 1999. Both of us had stinking colds that day, but after dosing up on Day Nurse, Red Wine, Cava and some unknown substance scored from a bus driver, we managed to scare the germs out of our bodies and have the night of our lives. After fireworks and other entertainments in Victoria Gardens, we gatecrashed the Hobgoblin festivities via the back door and ended the night with some legendary table dancing (sorry James).

Moulin Rouge Party, 2002

There have been many fabulous theatrical parties over the years, but none  quite compare to the Moulin Rouge party we threw at our first Brighton flat together in Bedford Place, not long after the film had come out. There was Absinthe, debauchery, campery and misbehaviour - well it's not a real party if you haven't thrown someone out by the end of the night. As I handed round a bowl of skittles mixed with M&Ms (a sure fire way to confuse drunkards), I remember someone saying "this is the best party ever". I think they were right.

Big Beach Boutique, 2002 

It was one of the 'were you there?' events that has gone down in Brighton history for both good and bad reasons. 250,000 revellers (twice the population of the city) hit Brighton  beach to catch Norman Cook (aka Fatboy Slim) and friends do their thing. Many had come from out of town and were stranded at the end of the night as public transport struggled to cope. Luckily we only lived a couple of minutes walk from the sea and were able to saunter home easily and provide sanctuary to friends who could not get home. Ant couldn't cope with the crowds and made a bid for freedom before Fatboy Slim's epic finale, but I had a brilliant time bouncing up and down on the pebbles, making friends and chastising boys with whistles. I'm not sure I could cope with such a night these days, but I'll always remember it as the epitome of Brighton hedonism.

"What Noise Does the Tardis Make?" 200?

Ant and I were on a night out, we'd been for dinner at Blind Lemon Alley I think, and were in high spirits. In the tradition of the "did you ever have a poodle?" Eastbourne episode (which is another story entirely), we decided to start asking people in the street to demonstrate the noise that the Tardis makes. Some people just looked at us with puzzled expressions and scuttled past, others gave it a shot, then wandered off red-faced as they reasiesd that it's trickier than you'd think. But one group of guys embraced the challenge with gusto, spontaneously breaking out into a symphony of sounds and accompanying movements that had Ant and me in stitches. It always sticks in my mind as one of those 'very Brighton' happenings.

Kneel Before Ming, 2003, 2004, 2008 & 2009

Of all the Brighton fancy dress get-ups Ant and I have concoted during our time in Brighton, Ant's Ming the Merciless was without doubt the most impressive and frequently revisited. First created for our Bitches & Baddies party at the Sanctuary, it was also trotted out for Halloween later that same year, the Greatest Hits party I had with Neel and as a camped up 'Ging the Merciless' variation for our Spaced Out party. But the first outing was the most memorable, mostly due to the reaction it got when we arrived on-mass for a post-party boogie at the Gap Club. I had arranged guest list for our motley crew of scoundrels and villains, and Ant led the way as we paraded past the queue outside, proclaiming "kneel before Ming" - which everyone did without hesitation. Inside, he continued to steal the show, with some excellent podium dancing and shape-throwing. Only the Ring Wraith falling down the stairs that night was funnier (sorry Mark).

Getting Married, 2004

Our wedding was unconventional in that we didn't spend two years planning it, or a small fortune paying for it. 20 of our nearest and dearest witnessed us tie the knot at Brighton Town Hall, where my mum recited The Owl and the Pussycat and Natalie sang a moving rendition of Let It Be Me, which made even the registrar shed a tear. We had lunch at the (sadly now no more) Strand restaurant and a big party for all our friends in the evening, upstairs at the Freemasons. We didn't hire cars - I walked to the Town Hall along the seafront with Neel fussing with my hair along the way and a trail of assorted family behind me, and walked back with my new husband, getting whoops and cheers from people along the way. The most expensive thing about the day was the Choccywoccydoodah cake, followed I think, by Ant's boots. How very us.

Poppet & Marcel, 2005-2010

I suppose I could have listed 'buying our first home' as a top memory, but truthfully, the most exciting thing about moving into our flat was being able to make it a home to a pair of rescued cats, Poppet and Marcel. And one of the most emotional things about moving out is the feeling of leaving behind Poppet, who we sadly lost earlier this year. In between all the parties and socialising and eating and drinking, my mogs were always here at home to keep me company and keep me grounded. I hope that dear Marcel will not mind too much being an Eastbourne cat.

Pub Quiz, 2005-2010

The tradition of Thursday nights at the Barley Mow is one I shall miss greatly. In our glory days (before Jo got pregnant and Tim moved to Lewes Road), we rocked the quiz on a weekly basis, even sometimes when it was just Ant and me on the team. In the last year or so, the prevalence of smartphones and people blatantly using them to cheat has made it less appealing, but it didn't stop us form going to one final quiz last night. And missing out on victory by half a point. Gah.

La Clique, Brighton Festival 2006

Every Brighton Festival has brought its thrills and merriments, but one year in particular stands out. It was when the Spiegeltent first came to town and was pitched down on the Steine gardens. Damien, Natalie, Ant and I went to see La Clique, where we also bumped into and ended up sitting with Sham and James and their friends. It still stands up as the best cabaret entertainment I've ever seen (and I've seen a lot), not to mention one of the most fun nights out. I wrote about the show here if you want to know exactly why.

Cocktails

A signature feature of Brighton life, and one I'm not sure we'll be able to replicate to the same extent in Eastbourne. Bar Koba and Bar Valentino have been the main sources of our obsession with Cocktails, though there have been plenty of experiments at home, including the notorious Sicilian Martinis evening of which we do not speak. At Koba, the chocolate martini was always a big hit with everyone we took there and Valentino's Bonzo Dog concoction has tipped me over the edge on many a late night session.

I could go on, but these are the sort of things that have made living in Brighton a pleasure and an adventure. If you're reading this and have been one of the people with whom I've shared the ride over the last ten years, thank you. And please leave your own memories of our escapades and special moments in the comments below - I am sure I've forgotten some classic ones.

Legally Blonde the Musical, Starring Sheridan Smith

I have never seen Legally Blonde the film, nor do I have any particular desire to do so, but when I heard the hype around Legally Blonde the Musical, I was intrigued to see what all the fuss was about. In fact it was Ant who first suggested we go and see it in the West End, having read Stephen Fry's enthusastic Twitter review. Of course I couldn't even consider going to such a thing without my dear pal and fellow lover of musicals, Damien. It took us the best part of year to get our arses in gear to get tickets and go up to Town, but last night we finally made it. 

After all the months of anticipation, the three of us were giddy to the point of hysteria when we met up at Brighton station yesterday lunchtime. Our excitement continued throughout the day as we made the most of the trip by taking in the René Gruau exhibition at Somerset House and indulging in a spot of window shopping around Covent Garden. After a bite to eat at my favourite little Moroccan haunt and drinks next door at the wondferfully rustic Beaujolais, we were just about fit to burst.

One of the most lauded things about the West End production of Legally Blonde the Musical is its current leading lady, Sheridan Smith. Having never seen Two Pints of Lager...  or indeed any of her other noted TV or stage performances, I had no expectations either way, but was duly impressed by her sparkling performance as Elle Woods. The rest of the cast were equally outstanding, giving it their all from start to finish and clearly relishing every bonkers minute of it. Someone else whose musical career has so far evaded me is Denise van Outen, who recently joined Legally Blonde as the hapless hairdresser Paulette. She, too, was surprisingly accomplished; I had no idea she could sing so well.

Of course I'd anticipated high camp and energetic dance numbers, but wasn't quite prepared for the bizarre, almost magical-realism dimension to the production (Riverdance? Talking dogs? WTF?). It was unashamedly and zealously inhabiting the World of Musicals and all the insane poetic license it allows. It was also genuinely very funny (think Glee/Sondheim-esque New York-Jewish humour) and at even  at times, moving. And I LOVED it. As I glanced either side of me at Damien and Ant's beaming faces, I could tell they did too. Feeling thoroughly entertained, we giggled and grinned all the way home (via a nightcap at my old student hang out the Retro Bar).

I defy anyone but the most cynical anti-musicalites not to enjoy Legally Blonde the Musical, and would especially recommended  it to anyone in need of a pick-me-up. The charming Sheridan Smith will only be in it for another few months, so hurry.

Brighton White Night 2010

Brightonians don't exactly take much persuading to dress up and stay out all night at the best of times, but for the last few years White Night has given us an offical excuse to celebrate the art of noctural recreation. A free festival that takes place across the city, White Night marks the clocks going back and celebrates the extra hour we get, by encouraging people to stay up and participate in all sorts of activities throughout the night.

I've been away for White Night the last few years and so this year's was my first one. The city was buzzing anyway with Halloween antics, and the massive Beach of the Dead walk that also happens every year got everyone into the spirit early in the day. By nightfall there was an amusing mix of ordinary punters, gruesome zombies and other ghoulish Halloweenites lining the streets. My first glimpse of White Night activity was as I turned into the North Laine to spy an opera singer belting out from the balcony above the betting shop on the corner of Bond Street. Unfortunately I missed a later performance in that same spot, reported by SessionLeopard on Twitter: "Brighton... where else can you watch a black drag queen dressed as a cloud singing barbara streisand above a betting shop?". Shame, but there was so much else to do.

My first proper stop-off was at the Brighton museum, which involved wending my way through the Pavilion Gardens, where little pockets of action were afoot all over the place. Inside the museum it was pretty much business as usual, apart from a few crafty making sessions and the presence of some willowy ladies in period clothing draped about the place. It did make me giggle to see zombies wandering about soaking up culture, but I drew the line at a man dressed as a spiderman clown and escaped to go and meet Steve and Linda at the Pavilion garden gates.

From there we decided to head for the Sealife centre, where I was utterly enchanted by the huge turtles and tiny seashorses. Not so endearing were the drunken youths flagrantly ignoring the 'please don't touch the fish' signs and whose behaviour was later reported to have started a riot. Things were altogether more civilised at the Library and though outside on Jubilee Square was heaving, the live spray paint artists there were well worth a stop. Inside, we had a play on a big dance mat that was wired up to a percussion loop programme, and enjoyed the relative calm before heading back out into the throng.

Kensington Street was another hive of activity, with both the Lighthouse and the Basement open for business and a  multimedia installation called the Epiphany Dome outside. After a heavy dose of art, we were ready for some music, but not before swinging by Infinity cafe to re-fuel with soup hearty soup in a roll. At the Corn Exchange, a French music showcase was in full swing, but surprisingly there were no queues for the venue. Amiens in France also has a White Night (or Nuit Blanche as they call it) and our towns do a musical exchange for the night. When we arrived, a band called Oregone were playing. I had a little dance around and then spotted Ewan (aka Euzie) at the bar.  It transpired that he and Linda both grew up in Wolverhampton and used to hang out in the same pub. Much disbelief and delighted cries of "you know so-and-so? No way!" ensued.

Next door in the Dome there was nothing much happening other than some pumping dance music and a couple of interactive installations. The night was flying by already and by the time we got down to the beach, the Bandstand happenings were dying down, with only a few half marathon runners straggling about. Walking back along the prom, we gained another cohort in the shape of Rob, who accompanied us up through the Lanes and eventually up to the Phoenix Gallery, which was one of the only places still going. By then the clocks had officially gone back, we'd gained our extra hour and I had completely lost track of what time it actually was.

A quick hot chocolate at the buzzy Cafe Moksha - where live music was still going  on - made a very civilised end to the evening (or should I say, morning). My first White Night had been a riot (though thankfully not in the Sealife centre sense), but it was time for bed.