Never too late to kick it!

Three weeks ago the UK water authorities declared us in a drought situation.  Since then it has rained every day since.  But we British are enduring fellows.  The British ‘stiff upper lip’ is well-known to be lying over a row of gritted teeth!

The rain may have settled in with seeming permanence, but it was doing nothing to stop the frolics at the Brighton Festival 2012, which began last weekend.  Saddled with the choice to sit on my backside and moan about the incessant rain, or to get off my backside and go and do something, I took the decision to strap my bike onto the back of my trusty little Seat, and drive down to the coast to join them.  I’d perused the Festival brochure of ‘comedy, theatre, cabaret, music & events’ (sewer walk anyone?) and put asterix alongside acts that piqued varying degrees of interest.

Fringe Actors gathering a crowd

Sky…the cable people, have constructed a room on the lawns of the Royal Pavillion.  For one month they are hosting live gigs and workshops, free gratis and for nothing.  One of my ticks was placed against the listing of a guy called Seye.  When I entered the room, not one purple bean bag or sofa was free so I sat on the floor by the small stage.  A young guy stepped up in skinny jeans and faded red pixie boots. Seye was a thin, sprig of a boy.  Intent from the outset for us pronouncing his name correctly.  ‘Remember it’s eyes backward, but you say it like ‘share’. he said.  I guess his prompting worked.  A singer songwriter with a unique sound, African inspired with a bit of RnB and a little something else.  He sang about his observations of life, and the women in it.  More than one of his songs bear the title of a girl’s name. I guess he’s popular off the stage too.

Seye

He was talented and so sweet.  Listen to him here

I decided to come down again next day.  It was a Sunday.  I craved something mellow. Comforting.  The Fringe brochure listed ‘Storytelling with tea’.  It caught my eye.  ‘That sounds mellow’, I thought.  I booked it online and made my way along the A27 to Brighton again.  The storytelling was at the www.latestmusicbar.co.uk.  I’d never been there before, so I pushed open the door with a slight drag of hesitation.  Inside I was greeted warmly, and poured a cup of fresh green tea.  There were seven of us in total.  The storyteller, Lynne Ruth Miller, wore life experience on her elfin face and spoke with an American accent, with the confidence of one who was obviously, lovingly encouraged to use her voice.  Her small frame in leggings and cornflower blue silk tabard, exuded more presence than geographical area.

We seven sat around a bruised pub table.  The centrepiece a decorative bowl piled with homemade muffins, and frosted ring donuts.   My brain muttered something about ‘oh God, what have I booked here’, before it was rendered voiceless by the woman at the head of the table.  She stood.  Came eye line height to us sat around the table, and began to tell stories of a little girl dressed in theatrical bows and starched Shirley Temple dresses.  She spoke of her mother, a migrant from Romania, who feverently wished her daughter to be American through to the core like a sweet stick of Brighton rock, and her characterful grandmother who charmed that little girls imagination with stories and warmth.  Sitting there, listening to Lynne Ruth, our emotions both rollercoastered and tea danced along her timeline of life.  She was hilarious and  animated. Her hands drew the stories in the air in front of us.  We cried and laughed, and did that thing where your head falls to your shoulder and you let a little sigh escape your lips.  My favourite story was entitled ‘farewell to the tooth fairy’ and I was wide eyed at her ability to morph into her six-year-old self, loosing her milk teeth.  She delivered the punchline with aplomb.  I was a little sad when the 60 minutes had counted down to nought.  I had enjoyed my brief time with my temporary family and didn’t want it to end.

I fell in love with Lynne Ruth Miller and her effervescence.  I also longed to tell stories with her captivating manner.  I enquired if she held story-writing workshops.  She said she was busy with other projects, doing cabaret and her stand up show: Approaching 80.  Yes, incredibly this woman is 78, nearly 79, and is running around all over Brighton and has played to audiences at the Edinburgh Festival too.  ‘But, she said, ‘what a lovely idea’.  I clapped my hands with glee.

I talked her into it and I am thrilled that she is going to be holding a micro workshop on 21st May 6:30 – 8:30 at the www.latestmusicbar.co.uk   It is going to be such fun and I cannot believe how fortunate we are to have her teach some of her skills to us.

I totally recommend you coming to see her performances.  Click here for her schedule   www.lynnruthmiller.com

Whilst putting this post together I googled Lynne Ruth and was gobsmacked to find her on YouTube.  She was delivering one liners in front of the judges of Britain’s Got Talent, and even had Simon Cowell laughing! She got THREE Yes’! What an AMAZING woman, and it just goes to show it really is never too late.  See her on YouTube here http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wze9Wd_Jp2U   I totally LOVE this woman!

Come on her course and you will fall for her too!    Details here http://www.meetup.com/East-Sussex-Writers-Group/events/64085482/  or here http://www.meetup.com/The-Raw-And-The-Cooked-Vegan-community/events/64085702/

Lynne Ruth Miller

Has anyone seen Higgs Boson?!

The Big Bang in graphical form

Though I may only grasp a nano particle of the scientific notions surrounding the Big Bang, or the thoughts on string theory and black holes, and just what has been sucked into their light lorn centres, I have found like I like to be in the orbit of people who do.  I attend lectures like people light cigarettes or down bottles of Jack, to get my intoxicating fix of intelligence in a closed atmosphere.  Really, is there, anything better on the planet than thinking about the Universe and the mysteries beyond our planet, or being fascinated by the wonder or the neon lit world under the sea?  Light emitting plankton do it for me as much as pondering the existence of life forms from other planets.  To be honest, I marvel at the utter unfathomableness of my fellow humans, let alone a stereotypical alien, bang on trend in a silver catsuit and powdery green skin.

Among my wish list for ‘ultimate dinner party guests’ you would see, seated to my right the chipmunk cheeked, professor Brian Cox, he’d probably be deep in conversation with Einstein, Darwin or Jagger.  It was he who magnetised my interest in the Large Hadron Collider, after being told about it by a physicist friend one rainy afternoon long ago.  I’ve been fascinated by the project racing around a 17 mile circuit just outside of Geneva, ever since.

When I heard the www.imperial.ac.uk college had invited Tejinder S. Virdee - one of the founding members of the Compact Muon Solenoid Collaboration at CERN - LHC, I was booking my ticket faster than a speeding light particle.  Years ago, I would have thought this out of my depth, before I realised that you cannot know what you don’t know and the only way to know is to go find out, so I went.  Happy in the knowledge I’d be in a room filled with minds that I wish I could inhabit for just-one-day.  Their brains must be wired differently to most!

Did you know that CERN (Conseil European por la Recherche Nucleaire - European Organisation for Nuclear Research) actually signed over the WWW for public use way back in the day when a calculator was high-tech and video games were so advanced that they made a bleeping sound and has a white moving line on a screen, operated by a joystick?!

The WWW is unleashed

Yep!

The lecture was made possible by the Peter Lindsay memorial foundation and was FREE.  This is already a bonus.  The person that I am, sitting in that hall, shoulder to shoulder with people who seem to understand quantum theories (like, our consciousness affects the behaviour of subatomic particles and  that particles move backwards as well as forwards in time and appear in all possible places at once, even that there are probably more dimensions than the 3 that we see with our human eyes but they don’t quite know what it may look like.  Oh, and that one that Stephen Hawking tried to explain in his ‘easily understandable’ book about quantum physics, about an object on a moving train staying in one place in time and something or rather)…..is a projected image I create of me.  You see, the me that I am sitting there on the hard, bottom-numbing bench, is the me that wished she had been a nerd at school, got absorbed in clever things grown up to become a scientist.  Lectures are my consolation prize.

Inside the LHC

I am not going to tell porkies and say I totally grasped what Prof Virdee was talking about, but I think I progressed a little.  I know a little more about quarks and your gluons and gravitons, and I get that the LHC is this year (2012) going to unveil whether the Higgs Boson exists….or not.  The revelation, after smacking trillions of atoms together for a couple of years and analysis the effects, will help us to understand the Big Bang and what gives mass to matter.  I am not quite sure how that will help us, but I guess it will.  Certainly, bi-products of the experiment have already proved useful – WWW and Magnetic scanning machines to name two.  But why is no one asking the question of our ever-expanding Universe…what is it expanding into?  What about that?  What or who made the Space?  How big is the space it is expanding into and, what is outside of that?  Ooh, that hurts my brain.

I have to marvel at the workings of the mind of a physicist.  They categorise things into – knowns – known unknowns – and unknown unknowns.  These brilliant people get paid to sit around and come up with ‘magical’ theories as to what is going on in our Universe, they scheme up fantastical scenarios and get paid to know nothing about their field with any certainty.  And they are given titles for it and awards to stand among the party invitations on their mantels.  Yes, these are exceptionally clever people!

I, myself, am on tenterhooks to see what the boffins at CERN conclude this year.  Real life is so darned funky, shape shifting, complicated and crazy, it’s a wonder we need fictional escapism on the TV at all!

FYI – The Imperial College in London is opening its doors to Joe Public on 11th – 12th May.  Go play with robots, dance at the silent disco or even meet an astronaut.  It’s a free event. Perhaps the next Einstein will throw a few shapes with you?!  www.imperial.ac.uk/festival

Foodie goings on in Brighton

The Brighton Food Festival has kicked off!

Ideas for free/inexpensive things to do in London – Spring Forth!

My mind is a bit rattled right now.  Information overload is tugging on my skirts like a child demanding immediate attention.  I’m going to do the equivalent to a telling it to ‘go out and play’, whilst I attempt to remember which way is up!

So, here are some events and ideas that have been pricking my interest and nagging for some attention. 

First up – www.tasterLab.com    Events all over the UK but you can specify an area – LONDON>   that give you a sample of differing activities from Archery to windsailing, or perhaps a singing lesson or learn to play a rift.  Lots going on.  Here’s the concept in their words ‘Living in a big city can be incredibly exciting with lots of amazing things to do, but with so much going on, sometimes it can be difficult to do much more than the normal routine. TasterLab aims to fix this conundrum by helping you discover a new hobby or passion that can become part of your lifestyle by tasting them, for free, or at massively discounted prices’.

Second, is the Southbank. I love the Southbank and have frequently waxed lyrical about it’s fun events.  They’ve got a ‘Wide Open School’ scheduled in June, featuring participatory snippets of the flavour of grandeur from the worlds of art and science, happening at the Hayward Gallery http://ticketing.southbankcentre.co.uk/find/festivals-series/wide-open-school

They’ve got all many exploratory, and some a little weird, workshops – You can paint, talk space, get involved in the conceptualization of size and proportions…. or even ’explore the story of the world as reduced to two dimensions, from Alberti to Pixar’.   Lots more.  I would tell you about them all but my skirt is now being tugged from the hand of another source, and I’ve a tangent to go off on.

Let me know if you attend any of the delights being cooked up for your amusement.  No doubt I’ll get around to booking some myself.

I’ve got a feeling it’s going to be a fantastic summer!

Fizzy Fun Fermentation Class

 Most of us are foodies…right?  I love finding out how to make stuff and the science behind things I’m a geek, it’s what we like). When you are travelling for extended periods of time, you get to a point when you’re kind of ‘galleried’ out.  For me food and fun are my first loves (followed closely by being over active…phew!), so going to cooking classes is a no-brainer.  But, perhaps this is not the case for everyone.  But I say, ‘give it a go’.  The people are usually really fun, you get to eat good food and you learn something.  I visited Oakland, California recently to take a fermenting class.  My brain and my tum were well fed.

Oakland itself is worth a trip as it is so different from San Francisco.  It’s kinda earthy, rootsy.  Edgy.  It has a big Southern & African influenced food community that is worth a look.

Chosen words

28 pages remained.  28 pages and 20 hours. 20 hours left in the City.  I wanted to finish the book.  I wanted to finish it, and then pass it on to a stranger.  I wanted them to feel how the book made me feel.  I wanted to sit in the same seat.  I wanted the sun to be in shining into the cafe in exactly the same spot.  The intensity of its heat to be the same.  To feel the same warming of my bones.  I was ready to hunker into the faux suede seat and clasp hot tea in one hand, rest the cup on my chest and feel the steam filming on my skin.  With the other hand I was going to turn the pages in my lap.  I was going to improve on yesterday and slip off my shoe.  I wore shoes today.  Not sneakers.  The shoes would slip off, and I could then tuck my right leg underneath the left and rest it on the faux suede sofa.  This would be better than yesterday.  More relaxed. Ready to come to the end.

I thought about holding off.  Not coming to the end but holding it, suspending their lives.  I had fallen in love.  Not romantically.  But I cared.  I watched them grow and change and had seen what they failed to see.  I didn’t want to say goodbye.  I thought about leaving the last few pages to remain within the closed covers.  Huddling together.  Holding the secret. Withholding the end.  I would then leave it someplace. Someplace where I could return to.  Where it would wait.  Absorbing the smells that all books absorb. Waiting for me to return.

My spot in the sun was taken. No….  My spot in the sun was there, but it was different from the day before.  A man sat up against the invisible line where my left leg had been. I bit my lip to recover from the alterations to the plan.  I’d sit under the big perspex artwork that hung on the wall.  I’d sit on the padded stool.  Underneath it.  I was in the sun.  I would wait.

A girl.  Aged 4 or 5, was sitting on the floor.  She was humming to herself.  Her hands worked steadily to build up a wall of interconnected bricks of primary colours.  She was strategic in her method.  No two identical colours sat together.  To her, the outside world didn’t exist.  A chocolate donut, sat on a white plate, on top of a low table. It was frosted with tiny sprinkles of coloured sugar. It had one bite out of it.  The circumference of the bite was small.  It was a child’s bite.  It was barely detectable.

The man on the sofa, sidling up to my space, was in conversation with a lady whose hair was more grey than blonde.  I worked my way down the page of my book.  Not one word of their words penetrated my world.

I sensed a shift in the energy.  The conversation beside me, between the man and the older woman was wrapping up.  Sentence no longer tumbled after sentence.  I felt excited.  I was going to get my spot.  The sun was still resting on the faux suede.

‘Boo’.  The man called to the child.  ‘It is time to leave, eat up your donut or we will have it’.  The girl continued to build a turret.

‘Boo, (was that her name or a call of endearment?)…hurry up and eat it or you will not have it’.  She carried on.  She was surveying her wall.

‘Boo!’  The girl got up and bit a morsel from the ring of brown dough.

‘Eat it up’, he said, urging her.

‘Cut it into small pieces’, the woman sitting next to him suggested.  ‘It’s far too much for her’.

‘Eat it all up’. he said.  His insistence was affecting my breath.

The little girl used her hand to pull away a dark clump of hair from her face.  She picked up a cube of donut and shoved it into her mouth.  Her lips protruded over the baked confection, her face pressed into the air in the direction of the man.  Defiance.  Compliance.

‘Hurry up…we’ve got to go!’ he insisted again.  The tension was rising in my chest.  I wanted to look close into his face and say…’she isn’t hungry, she doesn’t want it’.   I didn’t.  Couldn’t.

The girl, pushed back the unruly clump of hair once more and passed the remaining pieces into her mouth whilst chewing furiously.

The man picked up a toy.  He pressed the nose of a pink, tuxedo wearing pig, into her face and said…’that’s your reflection that is’.

Mortification took rise to anger in my chest.  Horror. Disbelief.  Would that moment of smiling, passive aggression hold in the little girl mind, or was it only witnessed by me? 

The little girl took the mans hand and they left the spot on the sofa.  The spot in the sun,  clear for me to finish the book.

I moved over to the spot and the sun held me. I prayed the little girl would not have fallen under the spell of the man’s words.  That she wouldn’t have a lifetime being bullied and confused.  I prayed that he would see his own reflection…and change.

The words in the book soothed with the sun.  When  I got to the end.  I happily passed them on.

Pina – The Movie

PINA was showing at the Sundance Kabuki Theatre, in San Francisco, and a friend invited me along to watch.  I had no idea it was shot in 3D  until a guy, sitting behind a desk at the theatre entrance, handed me a pair of heavy, black rimmed glasses.  They’ve evolved somewhat since my first encounter with the flimsy and ineffectual paper kind, we had years ago!

When the film began I literally could not believe my eyes!  The figures were coming out of the screen and boldly walking right into the cinema space.  Wow!  I had a flashback to the days when I had the notion that little people trailed out the back of the TV at the close of the night (yes, young people… TV did once stop at midnight..and even before that when it launched), after they’d put up the static screen of the girl and the creepy clown (wtf, was that all about?  A hideously macabre final shot to go to bed with  – only UK viewers will know what I am talking about).  The 3D was thrlling, I had to stop myself from audibly sharing my amazement with the whole cinema!

The film is shot in studios and various (stunning) locations around Wuppertal, Germany (a linear city, owing to its many steep slopes), where Pina’s dance theatre was situated.  It is now on my ‘bucket list’ of destinations.  Just so I can ride the suspension railway.

The movie is by German director – Wim Wenders (Buena Vista Social Club).  It documents the achievements of a German dancer and coreographer.  Pina  Baush.

Philippina “Pina” Bausch ^[1](27 July 1940 – 30 June 2009) was a German performer of modern dance, choreographer, dance teacher and ballet director. With her unique style, a blend of movements, sounds and prominent stage sets, and with her elaborate cooperation with performers during the composition of a piece (a style now known as Tanztheater), she became a leading influence since the 1970s in the world of modern dance. ^{[2 Wikipedia}

Pina died just two days before the film was to begin shooting.  But, the cast convinced Wenders to go ahead with the making of the documentary. 

I found it hypnotic and extremely powerful.  My words will not do the movie justice.  The music is sublime and the imagery was expertly coregraphed.  You will see a dance performed on a layer of soil and overlayed with the sound of drums that, to me, were quite literally, drumming the raw emotion into my body.  Unglaublich!

Surprisingly, the dancers were not young, most had been with Pina for many years, though their bodies had the definition of youth and they exuded an ageless passion.  As they spoke of her they all seemed to say that Pina, not only had directed their movements but, in part, their lives. 

The film was out last year in the UK and is showing in various locations in the USA. Google your area  and GO SEE.  It is a visual and musical banquet!

 http://www.wim-wenders.com/movies/movies_spec/pina/pina.htm

https://www.sundancecinemas.com/kabuki.html   A gorgeous theare space.  The seats are super comfy and the rock back and forth..!  How great is that?!

Tea and Tarot

You’ve heard the saying, ‘one thing leads to another’?  Well, despite it being bloody obvious, of course it is true.  A night out with some new friends and I get the tip-off about ‘this brilliantly accurate tarot guy, that sits in a tea lounge doing tarot’.  It sounded a bit of a giggle and quite inexpensive, so I thought I’d give it a go.

I walked up and down some hills with a crazy incline, on my way from Noe Valley to 18th & Sanchez.  Enjoyed an eye-popping view of the sparkling lights of the Bay en-route.  I’d been a bit all over the place lately, literally and well, literally.  My writing had been on hold as I had ‘work dates’ with new friends, been feasting on some inspiring cinema (more about that soon), went on a petit road trip to the coast (more about that later too) and, typically just filled the day with adventures.  I was due some harnessing of my energy to get some ‘direction’.  Question marks dotted the air around my head.  ‘Am I on the right track?’  ‘Can I build a life in America? (please!), et al.

A friend and I met at a moodily lit tea lounge, on the skirts of The Castro, called Samovar.  Not your typical mug of rosie-lee and hot toast type of tea room, but a trendy hang out for connoseiurs of your camellia sinensis.  At $10 per pot it isn’t cheap but a pot shared between two, some plinky music and good chat and it is a pleasant way to spend an evening.   We eagerly awaited the arrival of the tarot master whilst sipping our ‘turmeric spice’ tea from tiny earthenware cups.

Rowan (mr tarot) arrived just as my friend, tired from her day, was strapping on her bike hat.  It meant I had Rowan all to myself.  We sat on silk cushions on the window seat.  I liked him upon sight and secretly wished he’d by one of my troupe of treasured BFF’s. He felt so comfy to be with.

Butterflies where playing around in my stomach.  I didn’t feel nervous though…could’ve been the tea!  I did feel curious and excited.  He instructed me to mix up the cards on the table, whilst I thought of the questions I sought answers too.  I then picked out the cards I felt would ‘speak’ to me.  Rowan placed them in their relevant rows.  He turned them over, considered their message, and what he told me was so…….No.  That’s for me to know.  Let me just say, Rowan is such fun and I thought it a mystical and engaging way to spend some time.  AND my future is ALL good.  If it transpires how the cards foretold, I do not yet know.  I did feel I had better clarity.  I was also told that my ideas to be a cloystered nun for the rest of my life, are quite frankly, daft (she lets out a wistful sigh).  For two days I mooned around like a teenager, wondering if my Prince was going to come find me…….  I then pulled myself together and got on with the business of enjoying what I do have, and my current adventures in San Francisco.

Time will tell if what the cards said come to being.  When they do I shall let you know.

If you want the Wow Tarot experience with the engaging and convivial Rowan Cutler www.wowtarot.com  

For tea with glamour www.samovarlife.com

A (quiet) room of one’s own

My body is so tired from ‘bed hopping’ I am suffering from ‘comfy seat’ narcolepsy!  In the last six weeks (is it that long?) I have moved no less than eight times. Each new place has played out like a scene from Goldilocks…..too noisy, too grubby, too short-a-stay, too expensive…and of course…JUST RIGHT!   All of the studios (they call them ’in-laws) or rooms I have stayed at of course had their ‘good’ side…for a start..they are all in America (ping), they are all in ‘happening’ San Francisco (ping), they have all been very close to, or in the ..cool, artsy and multicultural….Mission District (ping, ping, ping).

Post Valentines Day

Valentines Day, and here I sit.  In a hip cafe.  In my pyjama bottoms.  Alone.

One thing I can reason away.  The other….I can’t.

 Let me explain. I don’t think anyone notices that I am wearing jammy bottoms. I have rather cleverly thrown them off the scent by a) wearing a cute waistcoat so I look like I’m ‘trying’ to be understated and b) I imagine they are probably locked in their own little worlds and unaware of me. Sitting here. In pyjamas.

There are seven, eight including me in the coffee-house. All of us are alone.  All but one of us are sitting, faces lit by our laptops. Some sort of acoustic music is playing in the background. It has an edge.

 Today I want to write to tell you of my simultaneous triumph…and failure. To date I’ve been single for 315 569 260 seconds, give or take. It is quite some time. Some years I’ve cried to mark the day. Others, I have forced myself to be cheery at my manless state. This year. I actually, truly, feel ok about being SINGLE.

 I wonder if I am alone in this. This state of being happy to be single.  I should think most definitely NOT. Single is the new married (maybe). I have written about being single before, of course I have, it is my current lifestyle..I am bound to think about it at some point.  But this is a bit of a shift in my tumbling thoughts around the subject.  I was out walking today. Earphones shoved into my ears, as I listened to National Public Radio. Some author, whose name I didn’t catch, was talking about marriage. Its history, its challenges, rewards, and its future. Years ago, marriage was not just about ‘happily ever after’, it was a coupling to forge a family unit, raise children. It was economics. Companionabilty. She said something that made me think. We are now living in an age where, in the Western world at least (generally…ooh, put out the ‘generalisation warning’) for whatever reason – watching too many romantic comedies or perhaps born of the aftershock of a post ‘therapy era’,  We now perhaps believe that marriage is to generate happiness. Anything else is being thrown in the trash and sealed tape marked ‘toxic failure’.  Is this belief working for the institution of marriage and partnerships?

 The radio programme today flipped a notion I had. I have been in two long-term relationships. They failed. I blamed myself…for not thinking enough of myself to (stupidly) embark on them in the first place (this is ok…in hindsight..when we are young, we are just learning. How can we know what we’ve not yet learned!). My goal was happiness. And there in may lie the problem.

 I now don’t get into relationships, because I’ve built a rather sturdy wall around myself. The end goal has effected other areas of my life too. The end goal of being ‘successful’. The end goal of starting any venture (apart from writing…I’m hooked and it ain’t leaving). All because the onus is on the SUCCESS of the endeavour, and it is sometimes seen to have to be continuous and life-long to be valid.

 Perhaps, we (I) should be looking at all of my life as an experience that I willingly enter into. The experience of business. The experience of relationships. The experience of long-term partnership or marriage. Friendships too. I cannot know what I do not know. A notion of a reward I guess is needed. But if we could see that life is to feel, assess, balance, refine, and work at on a daily basis.  And whatever we choose (to participate in - learning about life/love/business/health or to shy away from taking the trouble with them..or chance the risk of change or uncertainty) will take the same amount of effort and stress. Perhaps we (I) could enter into the taking of risks a little more lightly and with curiosity.

I recall the saying ‘the school of life’.  I think I’d fair even better to remember that.

This year, for the very first time I took the long view on Valentines Day and just enjoyed the feeling of people, in concentrated mass around the world, partnered or single…thinking about love.

Happy EVERYDAY to you all x