"As modern wars go, the price was about right...
But we soon found that people weren't inclined to go that high for anything less than killing each other." ~ Kurt Vonnegut
Since I last wrote, we’ve done shows in Tunbridge-Wells and Cheltenham. Nothing big to report there, except that Jack and I watched the Bukowski documentary, “Born Into This” on the bus to these places and have decided that Bukowski is officially the funniest guy ever. We can’t stop impersonating him.
We had Monday off, so a bunch of us went into London for the day. Upon arriving, we went to see the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace. It was much more crowded than it was when I saw it eleven years ago, so I couldn’t see as much. I don’t remember there being like six marching bands jamming out last time though. I wonder if it was some sort of special occasion. You gotta love the hats those guys wear.
My friend Ciaran who I met at Nicola’s fundraiser in Belfast met me and Jack in front of the palace. Everyone else went to do some major sightseeing - things I’ve already done in London, so the three of us set off to see dirty indie London. First, though, we went to see Picadilly Circus, which I found to be a toned-down version of Times Square. To get there, we took this main road (the name of which I can’t remember) that really reminded me of the main road beside the Louvre in Paris. This street was home to the Ritz and a bunch of posh department stores. The Parisian one was also full of shmancy hotels. Afterward, we went over to Abbey Road. That was pretty rad. I was surprised to see that it seemed to be in the middle of a residential area, though. I realized that housing in NYC (brownstones, etc.) may be modeled after that in Britain. I never realized this before. I had assumed that look was a uniquely New York look. There I said it. Not so unique New York. Knee slap. Anyway. Back to Abbey Road. There’s a wall in front of the studio that’s covered in love notes from Beatles fans. We kinda wanted to do the cheesy getting a photo of us walking across the road thing, but decided it was just too much.
When we were finished there, Ciaran took us to this place called “Brick Lane.” Once there, we went to the first outdoor market I’ve ever been to where I actually wanted to buy something. It was full of dresses just my style, and at reasonable prices but...due to financial issues I forced myself to abstain. Bummer. We looked around a couple amazing boutiques where I wish I could have afforded to actually shop. Then, he took us to one of the greatest record stores I’ve ever seen, called “Rough Trade.” I believe they’re a part of a small franchise and record label. They had so much great stuff on vinyl. Another tragedy for me in that I wasn’t able to actually buy anything. But even if I could have afforded it, I probably wouldn’t have wanted to try to safely carry records around with me for the next three months.
We went to lunch at a restaurant housed by a big red double-decker bus. The food was all vegetarian and creative. I had a chickpea curry thing. Yum. Then we went to a bunch of thrift and vintage stores and then a sweet, tiny little shop that sold artsy things in general - zines and homemade buttons and clothes and records, etc. Ciaran had to go do some BBC filming thing, and left Jack and me to our own devices, at which point things got a little out of hand. We decided that despite the fact that we were supposed to be meeting the others for dinner, we’d stop for relaxing cocktails a cocktail bar on Brick Lane that had a wall of windows in front that were open to let the spring air in. I’ve decided that the bellini is the perfect afternoon drink.
We finally showed up for dinner at 7pm. The only problem was that we had tickets to see “Wicked” on the West End at 7:30pm, and they don’t let you in late. The waitress told us the food would take about ten minutes to come out, so we decided to chance it and ordered a salad, a pizza and two glasses of wine. Bad idea. By the time the wine came, we kinda had to chug it. When the pizza hadn’t come at 7:25, we asked the waitress for the bill and to shove the pizza in a box for us. We left the restaurant at 7:28 and ran, tipsy and giggling over to the theater, while trying to shove the pizza in my purse. It wouldn’t fit. In a panic, I threw my jacket at Jack and yelled, oh so urgently, that he should just hide it with the jacket. We walked into the theater as a woman was saying over a loudspeaker that anyone who wasn’t in their seat in thirty seconds would have to forfeit their right to see the show. So we rushed over to the ticket guy with a box-shaped jacket and the stench of pizza wafting around us. We were nearly in tears with laughter at this point. But we got away with it. Jack actually ate the whole pizza surreptitiously during the first act. The best part, though, was that he shoved the box under the seat in front of him when he was finished (the seat was empty), and some guy tripped on it trying to get out to go to the bathroom. He couldn’t figure out what he’d tripped on, and we couldn’t stop laughing. It didn’t help that the guy playing the Wizard looked and sounded almost exactly like Gillian’s dad, and every time he came out on stage we whispered things like “go on Frank!” to each other. It was too hilarious at the time. I almost couldn’t take it. I had so much fun at that show. Plus it was incredible in itself. I loved everything about it - the storyline, the costumes, the singing, the dancing and the set were all over the top amazing. Our tickets only cost us fifteen pounds each, and we were about ten rows back. Take that, Broadway!
After the show, we had some drinks in a pub with the others who had gone to see Billy Elliott. We also met up with a few dudes from Riverdance whom I’d met in Amsterdam who also happened to be in London. Dave Flynn, Damien and I went home at that point, not wanting to have deal with some hung over train journey back to Reading the next day, which seemed to be the other option. It was a great day.
On Tuesday we played High-Wycombe. Not much interesting there aside from a nice, big flat stage and large, sold out audience, about which I can’t complain. And Barry from the Scotland gig came to see the show, and it was great to hang out with him before the show. On Wednesday we played Dartford.
I’m down in Waterford at Gillian’s house for our couple of days off now, as usual. I love staying down here. They live such an adorably quaint, relaxed and slightly antiquated lifestyle here. I like that her father tutors kids in math all day, and that her mother comes home for lunch and that dinner is at 6pm. I love that there’s a piano in the living room. I love their old oil-burning “cooker” that heats up the house. And their clothesline. And the way they call the back yard the “back garden.” I love how old-fashioned her mother is about housekeeping. No bottles or tubs allowed on the table. Today Fergus, Gillian and I went to the seaside and skipped stones on the water and picked bluebells and ate 50 cent “jellies” (gummy sweets) from a shop in the seaside town. I love passing all the sheep on the drive through the countryside. It’s such a lovely lifestyle.
We’ve watched some good not American movies lately, including “East is East,” a British movie about Pakistani immigrants, and “In the Name of the Father,” an Irish movie (I think) about the IRA in the seventies. Both made profound statements and were very original. “East is East” is so realistic, and “In the Name of the Father” is a true story.
I love that British interviewers on tv aren’t afraid to fully attack politicians, and that the politicians aren’t afraid to attack each other. Americans are far too cordial.
I also really enjoy the Northern Irish sense of humor. I love how they always talk in similes, ie. “you’re about as useful as an underwater hairdryer.” And as far as I see it, they all come up with these things themselves on the spot so effortlessly. I find it extremely clever.
I do like spring and autumn for the ability it allows me to sleep with the windows open at night and enjoy the fresh, cool air wafting over me while I'm in bed.
Since I last wrote, we’ve done shows in Tunbridge-Wells and Cheltenham. Nothing big to report there, except that Jack and I watched the Bukowski documentary, “Born Into This” on the bus to these places and have decided that Bukowski is officially the funniest guy ever. We can’t stop impersonating him.
We had Monday off, so a bunch of us went into London for the day. Upon arriving, we went to see the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace. It was much more crowded than it was when I saw it eleven years ago, so I couldn’t see as much. I don’t remember there being like six marching bands jamming out last time though. I wonder if it was some sort of special occasion. You gotta love the hats those guys wear.
My friend Ciaran who I met at Nicola’s fundraiser in Belfast met me and Jack in front of the palace. Everyone else went to do some major sightseeing - things I’ve already done in London, so the three of us set off to see dirty indie London. First, though, we went to see Picadilly Circus, which I found to be a toned-down version of Times Square. To get there, we took this main road (the name of which I can’t remember) that really reminded me of the main road beside the Louvre in Paris. This street was home to the Ritz and a bunch of posh department stores. The Parisian one was also full of shmancy hotels. Afterward, we went over to Abbey Road. That was pretty rad. I was surprised to see that it seemed to be in the middle of a residential area, though. I realized that housing in NYC (brownstones, etc.) may be modeled after that in Britain. I never realized this before. I had assumed that look was a uniquely New York look. There I said it. Not so unique New York. Knee slap. Anyway. Back to Abbey Road. There’s a wall in front of the studio that’s covered in love notes from Beatles fans. We kinda wanted to do the cheesy getting a photo of us walking across the road thing, but decided it was just too much.
When we were finished there, Ciaran took us to this place called “Brick Lane.” Once there, we went to the first outdoor market I’ve ever been to where I actually wanted to buy something. It was full of dresses just my style, and at reasonable prices but...due to financial issues I forced myself to abstain. Bummer. We looked around a couple amazing boutiques where I wish I could have afforded to actually shop. Then, he took us to one of the greatest record stores I’ve ever seen, called “Rough Trade.” I believe they’re a part of a small franchise and record label. They had so much great stuff on vinyl. Another tragedy for me in that I wasn’t able to actually buy anything. But even if I could have afforded it, I probably wouldn’t have wanted to try to safely carry records around with me for the next three months.
We went to lunch at a restaurant housed by a big red double-decker bus. The food was all vegetarian and creative. I had a chickpea curry thing. Yum. Then we went to a bunch of thrift and vintage stores and then a sweet, tiny little shop that sold artsy things in general - zines and homemade buttons and clothes and records, etc. Ciaran had to go do some BBC filming thing, and left Jack and me to our own devices, at which point things got a little out of hand. We decided that despite the fact that we were supposed to be meeting the others for dinner, we’d stop for relaxing cocktails a cocktail bar on Brick Lane that had a wall of windows in front that were open to let the spring air in. I’ve decided that the bellini is the perfect afternoon drink.
We finally showed up for dinner at 7pm. The only problem was that we had tickets to see “Wicked” on the West End at 7:30pm, and they don’t let you in late. The waitress told us the food would take about ten minutes to come out, so we decided to chance it and ordered a salad, a pizza and two glasses of wine. Bad idea. By the time the wine came, we kinda had to chug it. When the pizza hadn’t come at 7:25, we asked the waitress for the bill and to shove the pizza in a box for us. We left the restaurant at 7:28 and ran, tipsy and giggling over to the theater, while trying to shove the pizza in my purse. It wouldn’t fit. In a panic, I threw my jacket at Jack and yelled, oh so urgently, that he should just hide it with the jacket. We walked into the theater as a woman was saying over a loudspeaker that anyone who wasn’t in their seat in thirty seconds would have to forfeit their right to see the show. So we rushed over to the ticket guy with a box-shaped jacket and the stench of pizza wafting around us. We were nearly in tears with laughter at this point. But we got away with it. Jack actually ate the whole pizza surreptitiously during the first act. The best part, though, was that he shoved the box under the seat in front of him when he was finished (the seat was empty), and some guy tripped on it trying to get out to go to the bathroom. He couldn’t figure out what he’d tripped on, and we couldn’t stop laughing. It didn’t help that the guy playing the Wizard looked and sounded almost exactly like Gillian’s dad, and every time he came out on stage we whispered things like “go on Frank!” to each other. It was too hilarious at the time. I almost couldn’t take it. I had so much fun at that show. Plus it was incredible in itself. I loved everything about it - the storyline, the costumes, the singing, the dancing and the set were all over the top amazing. Our tickets only cost us fifteen pounds each, and we were about ten rows back. Take that, Broadway!
After the show, we had some drinks in a pub with the others who had gone to see Billy Elliott. We also met up with a few dudes from Riverdance whom I’d met in Amsterdam who also happened to be in London. Dave Flynn, Damien and I went home at that point, not wanting to have deal with some hung over train journey back to Reading the next day, which seemed to be the other option. It was a great day.
On Tuesday we played High-Wycombe. Not much interesting there aside from a nice, big flat stage and large, sold out audience, about which I can’t complain. And Barry from the Scotland gig came to see the show, and it was great to hang out with him before the show. On Wednesday we played Dartford.
I’m down in Waterford at Gillian’s house for our couple of days off now, as usual. I love staying down here. They live such an adorably quaint, relaxed and slightly antiquated lifestyle here. I like that her father tutors kids in math all day, and that her mother comes home for lunch and that dinner is at 6pm. I love that there’s a piano in the living room. I love their old oil-burning “cooker” that heats up the house. And their clothesline. And the way they call the back yard the “back garden.” I love how old-fashioned her mother is about housekeeping. No bottles or tubs allowed on the table. Today Fergus, Gillian and I went to the seaside and skipped stones on the water and picked bluebells and ate 50 cent “jellies” (gummy sweets) from a shop in the seaside town. I love passing all the sheep on the drive through the countryside. It’s such a lovely lifestyle.
We’ve watched some good not American movies lately, including “East is East,” a British movie about Pakistani immigrants, and “In the Name of the Father,” an Irish movie (I think) about the IRA in the seventies. Both made profound statements and were very original. “East is East” is so realistic, and “In the Name of the Father” is a true story.
I love that British interviewers on tv aren’t afraid to fully attack politicians, and that the politicians aren’t afraid to attack each other. Americans are far too cordial.
I also really enjoy the Northern Irish sense of humor. I love how they always talk in similes, ie. “you’re about as useful as an underwater hairdryer.” And as far as I see it, they all come up with these things themselves on the spot so effortlessly. I find it extremely clever.
I do like spring and autumn for the ability it allows me to sleep with the windows open at night and enjoy the fresh, cool air wafting over me while I'm in bed.