Other than church and nursery rhymes, the first song that I truly remember was Petula Clark’s Downtown; exciting lyrics suggesting late nights, bright lights and fun – from the age of seven, I knew that I needed to live that life. The song (and the life) has stuck with me eversince and I’ve enjoyed the occasional remix including a camp disco version in 1976, the JAMS’[1] sampled Christmas track from 1987 and the official HiNRG version released a year later. I’ve loved Petula Clark eversince I saw her play naughty girl Katherine Bridges alongside Peter O’Toole’s staid teacher Chipping in the 1969 film Goodbye Mr Chips. Over the years, I’ve enjoyed her records and the odd TV performance and I even bought a signed handkerchief of hers at a charity auction one night. So there you are; Pet and I go back a long way, which is why, on Monday night, I was delighted to see her for real at the Town Hall. She sounded great and, from where I was sitting, up in the gallery, she looked good; she sang for almost two hours, telling tales from a long (she’s 84 next month) and star-studded career; her new stuff was fine, but I liked her old songs en français best. A splendid evening downtown, I’m still singing ‘… in Capri or Amsterdam or Honolulu or Siam’.
Yesterday I caught the train back over to town and spent the day mooching around the galleries, the old library has now mostly been demolished and the resultant gap provides a wonderful view of BMAG, the Council House and the city from Centenary Square; I do hope this vista is kept. Of the library, I see that the new library up in the square is now the country’s most popular ‘tourist attraction’ outside of London with 1.8m visitors last year[2] – this is surprising as, owing to central government funding cuts, it’s only open a few hours a week. I digress, Sara Barker was exhibiting at the Ikon. Sara’s work ‘… operates on the boundary between sculpture, painting and drawing, delicately tracing lines in space. Incorporating rods of steel and aluminium, sheets of glass and painted sections…’. Big stuff and of little interest to me. BMAG had no special exhibitions, so I wandered around the old sections of the museum where many of the exhibits had been put into store as vibrations from the demolition of the library (just opposite) were causing damage, a friendly gallery assistant lifted the window blinds for me to provide the best view in town of the big hole that used to be our old library.
My birthday weekend of a few weeks back went well. On the Saturday, we drove over to Uttoxeter in real rain and it really rained for the rest of the day, so we spent it keeping dry in several real pubs drinking Bass. On Sunday (the birthday) the sun shone and, after a treat of a Wetherspoon’s breakfast, we spent a day at the races – a Christmas gift from Boy number 1. The weather was glorious, sunshine all day, the entertainment good, the ‘beer’ (German lager, for it was their Oktoberfest) was cold and drinkable; there were eight races and we both had a £5 bet on each one. My race going companion was delighted to back the winner of the first race: Pickamix at 11/4, sadly it went downhill after that as we recorded 15 losses at a cost of £61 – hey ho. Afterwards, we drove the short (eight miles) over to Alton and spent the night in the community owned pub: The White Hart, listening to the church bells that I’d spent my formative years with. On sunny Monday we strolled round the village and roundabouts and chatted to a few old locals of life in the castle and the nuns – the school had closed in 1989. I was told of a face book page which I later checked out – lots of familiar faces from fifty years ago, but I was most sad to find that my leading nun[3] had died in a Frinton nursing home last year. Requiem æternam dona ei, Domine, et lux perpetua luceat ei, requiescat in pace Sister Mary Philomena.
Stuck on a truck somewhere in the Andes, I didn’t do too well for birthday presents last year; I was more than compensated this year. Happy Michael opened the latest books from Ian McEwan and Eimear McBride, and an old Murakami; a flash pink Bianchi cycling jersey; a photobook of the Companions’ Camino adventures (2005 -2010); an Inca talisman; a fancy watering can and, best of all, a ticket to see Petula Clark the following week – what a lucky boy. I was also lucky to see the mighty Mose give their best performance in years, score 11 tries and beat Cambridge 72-14 last Saturday at Billesley – what a day, the happiest we’d been since our shock Twickenham victory of 2009. And lucky that the house is almost finished (just fittings and a new front door to go) and that I’ll soon be able to live a comfortable life once again.
Anyway, gotta’ go off for a Warwickshire stroll and a weekend of getting the house back in order. I’ve also gotta’ sort out my technology, one laptop is dead: the other won’t get wi-fi, which is why I’m posting this, via a short network cable, whilst sitting on the stairs. Have fun.
[1] The Justified Ancients of Mu Mu, later known as the KLF – the second best band ever…
[2] The I newspaper, 11th October 2016.
[3] Possibly the most influential woman in my life for, unlike the Jesuits, she had the boy prior to the age of seven.