a quiet place…
It really is! November that is – at least once Guy Fawkes night is over. Even the fireworks don’t seem as loud as they were, although the trip down to the celebrations in Battersea Park a couple of weeks ago was well worth the effort since it included not just fireworks but stage shows, well above average food and superior toilets (fairly necessary for fifty thousand people, but far from guaranteed). I will definitely be back next year!
Given the urge to stay closer to home as it gets dark earlier and earlier I have been spending a bit of time getting acquainted with the Barbican highwalks, after deciding to check out the new escalators which appeared next to the Moorgate station entrance a couple of months ago. I have studied the rules (parkour is strictly forbidden, as is trumpeting), got lost on several occasions and wound up in the Barbican café, art gallery and library a few times more but it’s all part of the learning experience, that being learning that any ideas I previously had of renting a flat actually in the Barbican rather than just near it would have been a level of insanely misplaced self-belief normally the preserve of Donald Trump.
Planning ahead has been the modus for the few weeks; for anybody who hadn’t noticed, Christmas is looming. While skiving the entire month of December for shopping, food obsessing and festive nights out would be overkill (and I am anticipating doing a lot of all) it turns out that I’ll be having something of a enforced long break, since there are extensive station closures up to New Year, Liverpool Street for one being shut from Christmas Day until Thursday 2nd. Ouch.
Paddington, Euston and St Pancras plus the Thameslink are also having a little rest, so whilst I will be in town from the 30th December on I will likely be finding other ways to occupy myself, obviously without venturing back into Mumsnet-land (see Before Midnight last month; Christ alive). Plenty of entertainment is in the offing regardless, including ballet and the New Year Proms within twenty four hours of each other, plus a fair bit of Waitrose-dependent staying-in time and Pokémon Go to force me outside into the real world at least once a day.
I will be getting the usual Christmas blog page up soon too with full details, although as ever the best way to find out is to just ask. The next couple of weeks will be decidedly lo fi, prior to a brief trip away at the end of the month and the start of Christmas proper – yay!
Song Of The Week is continuing in the mellower vein – especially after the hi energy of last week! – with another perennial favourite. The weather forecast is suitably abysmal, so feet up and kettle on it is.
More soon! Next job, the Christmas hours – watch this space…
put the needle on the record…
I will never learn.
If an event takes place west of Pimlico, it is not for me. If it takes place far enough West to be in Zone 3, I should dismiss it instantly and not even think about going. If I am at such an event and find myself counting the number of people with sunglasses on their heads even though the sun is well on the way down and won’t be back for a good eleven hours: abort mission and proceed in an easterly direction faster than a badger with it’s arse on fire. These are not my people.
So with apologies to Annie Mac, Before Midnight was £50-something well spent to remind me that we are not in fact all the same, and that suburbs are best left to those who are familiar with their protocols. I’ll stick with Fabric, Koko and their tackier but even more friendly sister, Day Fever in Soho; an over thirties disco which starts at 3pm prompt and finishes at 8pm (next event 16th November) and save my money. I may also save some curious looks; I still don’t know whether these arose from my lack of sunglasses or just my not being drunk (or drinking) at 5pm.
The following Sunday’s afternoon live stream of The Marriage Of Figaro was a different matter altogether, mostly because I had some strong tea and a double size Milky Bar but also because visiting your lovely local cinema to watch a live opera from barely a mile away is an extremely comforting and civilised way to spend any Sunday afternoon, even given that MoF is basically Hollyoaks with singing. There are lots more streaming events coming up at the Barbican too – yay!
Meanwhile the weather has finally committed itself, and the pouring rain notwithstanding, autumn is here! My favourite time of year by far, not least for the extra hour in bed last Sunday but the London Film Festival – many of the entries are appearing in cinemas now or soon (Anora, Blitz, The Apprentice) but my favourite of all Piece By Piece (above) is just over a week away on Friday 8th and Lego Snoop did not disappoint. None of these are any excuse for not going to see The Substance before it’s run finally ends, however. Do that now.
November being the peaceful time that it is, there are relatively few exciting plans on the horizon until I duck out for a couple of days at the very end of the month; availability will be pretty much as advertised and more flexible than usual assuming notice starting with next week – yay! If this reads like code for the weather is crap, it’s dark all the time so I don’t feel like going out much that is indeed the case, but a bit of hibernating never hurt anyone.
Back to the kitchen dancefloor for Song Of The Week and an all time London favourite for the darker days, video and all. Whatever happened to Ms Dynamite?
More soon! I’m (unusually) here on Saturday this week too, so if anybody fancies calling in before I set off for the fireworks, just get in touch…
when we say Cypress, you say…
And it’s two months on from my first trip ever to the Royal Albert Hall, despite my first ever gig in London being thirty six and a bit years ago in 1987 (The Cure at Wembley Arena, for anybody interested) and Cypress Hill did not disappoint. I’ve said it before, but the problem with summer on the blog is that the more time I spend out doing fun, exciting things, the less time I have to write about doing fun exciting things and then we wind up with gaps.
Within this recent gap we’ve had some of the hottest days of the year (and this year with no aircon; thankfully my Meaco fan has coped admirably), trips to the Tate for some Expressionism, the Design Museum for Barbie (which made for the second trip to Kensington inside six weeks when added to the Cypress Hill gig at the RAH back in July) and closer to home, the Barbican (art gallery-conservatory-library and many, many trips to the cinema).
Even FrightFest has been and gone, which gives me the opportunity to throw in a recommendation for The Substance (should be everywhere from the 20th September) to go with this weeks’ tips for Kneecap, Blink Twice and finally Sing Sing which I saw yesterday and can’t recommend highly enough, although I bawled so much at the end that I had to stay in my seat until the very last credit or risk embarrassing myself in Waitrose. In my defence I was still a bit frazzled after an energetic afternoons’ clubbing at Koko in Camden last Saturday and could have done with a bit more sleep, but the Peach 31st birthday party doesn’t come round every day, and Koko is too pretty to pass on.
This morning it was once again time for the annual teeth-grinding battle to get London Film Festival tickets; bar last year (which went so smoothly it was just plain weird) every single time is an endless-buffering, sanity-testing nightmare, and whilst I got my tickets in the end it took a full two hours and three separate log ins to avoid being kicked off with a full basket and losing all eight after the forty minute timeout. I wish I didn’t speak from experience, although eight is a lot even for me – I had no idea how badly I wanted to see the life of Pharrell Williams played out by Lego figures until the seconds were ebbing away and the panic set in. Roll on October!
The evenings are getting gradually darker, the heat is abating nicely and my favourite time of year approaches; the coming week is a busy one with theatre tomorrow and an early finish on Friday for Before Midnight at Gunnersbury Park, then a nice cosy (and a lot cheaper than the Royal Opera House itself, plus popcorn is not frowned upon) streaming of the Marriage Of Figaro this Sunday afternoon over the road at Barbican 3. Being the philistine that I am it will always be the music from the beginning of Trading Places to me, but there’s nothing wrong with that after all…
So in honour of (probably) the last big outdoor dance event for a while, another classic. Terrifyingly, I still have (and wear) the giant cargo pants I remember jumping up and down to this in twenty eight years ago. I may wear them on Friday!
More soon. Next week I will definitely be staying in…