Wow! What a blast of nostalgia. And such great music. ‘There’s a quiet storm’, she sings, in The Sweetest Taboo. Quiet storm, the perfect description of the sultry soulful music she and her group make.
Opening her second album with Is It A Crime and Taboo? Phew! Hot. And cool. Just utterly brilliant. I’m not massively sold on the ‘so 80s’ gated snare sound of the drums. But within the overall mix it’s fine.
Oh, and as a listener to rain sounds when I get off to sleep, the fact Taboo starts and ends with rain is rather apt and lovely.
Even the ‘album tracks’, as they call them – i.e. the non hit singles – are mostly very good, like track three, the jazzy War of The Hearts.
Initially I was very taken with the whole package. But repeated listens have left me feeling that there is a bit of a dip in quality, as we move from the heavy airplay hits, to the rest of collection.
The wood chip floor of the green room had mostly migrated to other environs. And there were plenty of things growing in the light dusting of soil that remained. So we cleared that all away (as shown above and below).
I took a gamble that three backs of wood chips – £8 a bag from Wickes (1/3 off usual RRP!) – would be enough. And it seems to be just peachy.
Our new reclining chairs in place.
Our two new reclining garden chairs arrived a day early, yesterday. So they’re now in place, in the green room. I’m writing this in the recumbent position. Sheer bliss!
Part The Second…
Hannah, Sofi and Antonio returned, about an hour before we had to leave for my Sunday (!?) dermatology hospital appointment.
Sofi, in new t-shirt and trousers.Sofi & Hannah.Antonio & Sofi.Feed station one.
Part The Third…
We were in and out of Peterborough City Hospital quicker than a virgin at a bordello.
Once home we could finally totally chill, in our new chairs. And even read!
Feed station two.
From where I’m lying, with the new chair in horizontal mode, I can see three bird feeding stations. And, glory be, the birds are starting to learn about the feed we’re putting out for them.
Seeing and hearing these delicate little critters – I esp’ love the little birds – is sheer bliss.
Feed station three.
We have a fourth bird feeder. But it’s in need of repair. In the meantime, Teresa has arrived with dinner… pork korma with rice! Am I in Heaven?
Teresa and Chester join me.
Part the Fourth…
Ah… what joy it is to be alive!
I’m chilling to the Decimus Maximus. A fire and dinner in prospect…
Dinner.
Pork korma, with a side-salad. And banana n’ hazelnut choc-spread pooncakes for afters… joy of joys!
Fire.
I built a wee fire. And it burned just right for us, during dinner.
The view.
The view from where I’m laying, in recline mode, is fab. And the birds are learning they can eat their feed even if we’re sat here.
The green room roof, really coming along.
I asked Teresa to pinch me. Am I dreaming? Have I died and gone to Heaven? Very recently the ‘weather in my head’ (thanks, Don) had been pretty awful. Right now I’m in Nirvana!
And to finish a perfect day: Champagne Charlie, in our cosy lounge…
We arrived at the show around 10 am, which is when it officially starts.
Tailgatin’?Aloha!
The Hula-girl above was, so it later proved, a portent of Hawaiian things to come…
This beautiful bus has a blue version of a livery, upholstery wise, that I recognise from a similar vehicle in The Titfield Thunderbolt. The one in the film was, I think, in green. Chatting with the driver of this magnificent machine, I learned that Dews do have one in green, as well. Must find and photograph that!
There were hordes of folk of all ages dressed up in period costume. Looking natty, dapper, sharp… you name it. The above selection is only a teeny-weeny sampling.
I got a great Hawaiian shirt, which drew many approving comments throughout the remainder of the day, and a whole outfit – trousers, weskit, tie and jacket, all in green – for… £30!
INTERLUDE – St. John The Baptist, Wakerley
In the afternoon we had to leave, so I could do a delivery shift. Turned out the route was in a lovely scenic part of the world.
St. John in Wakerley was worth a look. It’s a CCT Church. So presumably no longer active as a place of worship, but undergoing careful restoration? It was open, fortunately. It’s in a gorgeous setting.
Back to the 40s…
After the delivery shift, we went back to Ramsey. Turned out that we needed to buy more tickets for the evening show. When offered them at a 33% discount, we thought, why not?
We didn’t dance. Very few folk did. Which is a shame, really. I think, perhaps like us, many refrained from lack of era-specific dance move skills. But we still had a lot of fun. We wound up having a pepperoni pizza cooked on site, instead of the korma curry Teresa had planned back home.
I broke my new/latest return to tee-totalism rule. Which, whilst not disastrous, on this occasion, I must admit does deeply disappoint me.
But overall a lovely day. And a kind of tonic to the official 8th anniversary we spent with dad and co on the river, a few weeks back. That wasn’t entirely enjoyable or relaxing. Whereas this was!
Wow! What a great find this was. It was released in Europe in ‘71, but the US in ‘72. And it was, in part, this year – in which I was born – that lead me to have a look.
Bronson’s face, physique, and whole demeanour are wonderful; like the flinty granite of Jack Palance, but with crystal veins of wit and charm shot through the igneous rock.
Bronson with wife Jill Ireland, ‘71.
This Euro-collaboration is – as far as my limited knowledge goes – unique and unusual (and ahead of its time?) in not only having Frenchman Alain Delon as suavely evil bad guy, Gauche, but also Toshirō Mifune, as a ‘last of the Samurai’ type warrior.
So it’s a kind of proto-hybrid-spaghetti/noodle Western, I guess?
We have Capucine and Arsula Undress giving a bit of Yin to the Yang (or is it t’other ways about?), quite literally.
Woof!Good ol’ Tex Avery.
It’s helmed by British director Terence Young (Dr No, [?]), who does a terrific job.
Rather than synopsise the interesting and unusual plot, I’ll content myself with observing that there are lots of terrific locations, some excellent camera work, which, when added to an unique (if formulaic) story and solid (if formulaic) acting, produce a very beguiling whole.
The chemistry between Bronson and his fellow actors, esp’ Mifume, is great, allowing such hackneyed motifs as revenge, and grudging respect turning to camaraderie, to blossom afresh in the somewhat different setting.
There are even Injuns. But once again, even though they occupy a similar niche to that they habitually occupy, it’s all done – thanks massively to the long grass setting – in a refreshing way.
Maybe not a top tier movie. But a very solid compelling and surprisingly fresh take on timeworn themes. Deserving, I think, of cult status.
This is a terrible film in so many ways. A mish-mash of sub-Tarantino delight in violence and death, Baz Luhrman-esque style ‘postmodern’ spectacle, superhero cartoon, and God alone knows what else (as the credits roll the music harks back to Spaghetti Westerns!).
Oh, and I’m not a fan of Guy Ritchie (or Madonna, for that matter).*
It’s really disgusting, with its totally pornographic revelling in murder and butchery, it’s love of crass populist fluff, and, to cap it all, some ‘woke’ bullshit liberally sprayed over everything, like the topping of some mad turf trifle.
Remind you of anything?
In spite of – or because of? – all this and much more (or is it less?), I enjoyed this ludicrous big-budget soufflé of total and utter bollocks.
It claims to be based on historical reality; Operation Postmaster. But this is a Commando comics on Angeldust ‘reality’, in a world where only surfaces are truly real, all taking place in a kaleidoscopic multiverse of mirrors.
And all of it connected to yet another crazy fantasy world, that of Ian Fleming’s James Bond. So this movie can, in addition to all its other magpie thievery, hitch a ride on the coat-tails of the 007 franchise.
Who cares about history or reality, when you can submerge yourself in rivers of Nazi blood, amidst barrels filled with human hearts? Panem et circenses, indeed.
*Both are consummate producers of ‘product’ in/for the shiny ultra-commercial pop age.
This church, thought to date back to about 1230 AD, is now a private home. The homeowner very kindly let me take a few snaps. And we had a nice chat about what it’s like, living in a converted church. Something I’d love to do!
Humble but beautiful dandelions, Wistow.
St. John The Baptist, Wistow.
I think I’ve been to this church before?
On this occasion I chanced to pass when a local keyholder was showing a couple of Canadians the place.
I took advantage, and snuck in and snapped away.
And out I go…
As I’ve said before, a one church day is great. Two, even better. Three? Blessed.
I do love a good doorstop sized book! And at over 900 pages, this is one such. I also love maritime history, especially the naval branch.
Alas, due to an all-consuming motivation-sapping depression, I haven’t really been reading much lately.
I bought this gigantic book at a shop in Whittlesey, called Antiques & Collectibles, or something similar, for £5. The mere act of getting it, never mind starting to read it, is encouraging, vis-a-vis the depression/motivation stuff.
Sooo… enough with the blogging, already; on with the reading.
The following day…
Ok, so I’m now two chapters in. What do I make of it so far? I think it’s a bit early to make any strong judgements. Mostly I’m drawing solace from the mere fact of having any interest or engagement with anything whatsoever!
It’s clear the author is prodigiously knowledgeable on his subject. And he writes well, for the most part; clearly and with balanced judgement, only slightly blurred at times by a penchant for antique style.
And I’m enjoying it. Even though it’s pretty heavy going, in some ways. Or is it? Perhaps I’m just finding it a little arduous given my current psychological condition? It’s hard to say!
The author.
I’ve just realised/discovered that this is not the first book by this particular author that I’ve bought. I got this, at Waterside Antiques, Ely, a while back:
Very handsome!
Not read it yet, tho’…
Some Days Later…
Well, I’m loving this book. No mistake! It’s very detailed, and very specialised. But it’s also eminently readable, as the saying goes. And after a bit of a literary drought – down to my own issues with exhaustion – it’s the perfect briny tonic.
I love it so much I simply must, when I finish this volume, read it’s predecessor, Safeguard of the Sea.
I was reading my recently acquired Mojo Joni Mitchell special today, and an article on Blue talked a bit about her 1970 Isle of Wight performance.
So far I’ve only ever seen/heard one or two of her tracks from this event, and I had judged it a mistake for her to even perform at such a huge rock concert. Pearls before swine, poss? But certainly an inappropriate setting for such subtle, delicate, gentle music.
Reading this…
For me Joni really only ought ever to have been experienced performing in intimate coffee house type settings, or at Jazz Café type venues.
I think gigs over a certain size are mostly a bad idea. They’re more about money (‘bums on seats’), than quality of experience, for either artist or audience.
Anyway, reading about how her Isle o’ Wight set evolves, made me want to watch the whole thing. I don’t yet know if the above video is just that, or not, as I have yet to watch it.
