Tina, Helgi and Alice

The first Christmas that I moved to Brighton I treated my mum and sister to tickets to see the 80's legends A-ha in concert at the Brighton Center. We'd all been fans of theirs for a long time and never been fortunate or flushed enough to see them live before. I remember being close to bankruptcy that year due to the expense of the move and spending the first month in Brighton without a job, essentially meaning it was 2 months before I actually earned anything. I honestly don't know what I'd have done without my then housemate and still best friend to help me through that time. When I say 'help me through' I mean financially and emotionally. 

I'd been dumped by my boyfriend the year before (in fact he was instrumental in my decision to move to Brighton), and continued to work at the same place as him for the year that followed. I was being tortured every minute of the day that I spent there. I maintain even now that I loved him, although he didn't believe this. He went on a boys holiday a few months into our relationship and cheated on me while he was away. I knew this from the way he acted around me from the moment he got back. Any guys reading this might think that's dumb, "how can you know he'd cheated on you?" etc, I can't really explain it. I just knew. To add to my crazy thoughts of infidelity I should point out that he never confirmed this to me. Instead of telling me why he'd suddenly gone weird and working through this, he dumped me, by work email. Citing many other reasons for his lack of wanting a relationship with me. He eventually confessed all to my aforementioned best friend by email to clear his guilty conscience.  

I won't dwell on the loser who didn't have the decency to end our relationship face to face (or even in private which would have been nice). For anyone who hasn't been dumped over work email I'll just say that it's degrading and humiliating and not something you ever forget. So even if I could forgive the infidelity, I would never forgive him for being a complete coward that day.

But as I said, I won't dwell, this is not a story about him. It's just a story that's veered off the path somewhat. Not unlike my other stories. My mind wanders you see, it's an admitted flaw of mine. 

Back to A-ha at the Brighton Center, Christmas 2005. 

We took our seats and awaited the dreadful support. I didn't know who it was. It's not that I'd not heard of them, I literally didn't know because I hadn't checked who the support was. I wasn't a very frequent concert goer at this point in my life, but I'd been to enough concerts to know that the support acts were usually awful. 

Then out of nowhere this tiny blonde girl appeared on stage and started singing. And I found myself listening. And liking what I was hearing. She said her name but I was so far away I couldn't really hear it, Tina something, Deekow? Dikou? Then she told the most charming story about how she wrote her next song in the back of Willy Nelson's tour bus. Right, I thought, my best friend will LOVE her. So I started frantically typing the words I could make out from the song into my phone. "Take what you want from me, take what you can. And then hide it somewhere I can't see, out of my hands. Do what it takes to make you feel better, yeah, never forget that you are nobody's man." I loved that song. Still do. It's only now I see how well those words matched my break up. By the end of her set I was screaming and clapping as loudly for her as I did for Morten and co. 

I looked up the lyrics when I got home and found out the tiny blonde girl was a Danish singer/songwriter called Tina Dico (Dickow in her native land). The album featuring most of the songs she'd performed wasn't out yet but I pre-ordered it for BF knowing she'd love it. And if she didn't I'd just suggest that she let me keep the album for myself. I set about ordering everything Tina had released so far and by the time In The Red came out I owned every album and EP released. As it turned out my BF wasn't all that keen, but by the time Tina toured Brighton again for her In The Red tour I'd gotten a whole bunch of my friends to come and see her. 

Although I've now heard almost every song in her repertoires, she always finds new ways to impress me or make me feel something I've never felt for a particular song before. For example, I was never that keen on the title track from In The Red, but there's something about the way she plays it live that I just adore. I was never that keen on One (from the same album) but then it gets played on my favourite TV show Grey's Anatomy, during one of the saddest episode's in the show's history and all of a sudden it's beautiful and emotional and I love that one too. 

I recently moved house again and again it's pretty much left me bankrupt. Luckily for me, one of the friends I introduced to Tina during the aforementioned In The Red tour, was good enough to get me tickets to Tina's most recent Brighton based gig on Saturday night. And boy was she on form. But this time it was Tina's turn to introduce the new kids on the block (no, not the 90's boy band!) in the form of her backing singer/keyboard and trombone player Helgi Jonsson and support act Alice Shaw. 

Even with my previous misgivings about support acts being blown out of the water by Tina I tend to be skeptical at best when it comes to anticipating support acts. Happily Alice (and her backing vocalist Amy Tinsley) again made me re-think my prejudices. Another singer/songwriter but a keyboard is her instrument of choice (Tina favours a guitar) and this time hailing from Bristol. She was the perfect prelude to Tina's main show, not even letting a dodgy microphone get her down. My friends and I were already following her on Twitter and Facebook before the evening was over and we'd purchased her album before the second support act had even arrived on stage. 

The second support act was Helgi, who as I mentioned is also a member of Tina's band. I loved his sense of humour and the way he played with the audiences perception of him. His singing wasn't bad either and his CD was "only £5" as the salesman in him pointed out.

This brings me neatly to the end of the evening. I've already mentioned that Tina was on form and I'm afraid this is all you're getting out of me on the subject of Tina as this was more a post about support acts (in case you didn't get that?). And the moral of this story? If there has to be one, I suppose it would be to not let past experiences cloud your judgement. Or some shit like that.

Tina's Blog can be found here and is an excellent read: http://tinadico.tumblr.com/

Tina's Website: http://tinadico.com/

Tina's Myspace: http://www.myspace.com/tinadico

Tina's Twitter: https://twitter.com/#!/tinadico

Tina's Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/tinadico?sk=wall&filter=2

Alice's Website: http://aliceshaw.co.uk/

Alice's Myspace: http://tinyurl.com/6chmqna

Alice's Twitter: https://twitter.com/#!/aliceshaw

Alice's Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/aliceshawmusic

Helgi's Website: http://www.helgijonsson.com/

Helgi's Myspace: http://www.myspace.com/helgijonsson

Busybody

Before you wonder about where this post is going, I can assure you it's not about how I like to spy on my neighbors! This post is about something I have been waiting to share with you, my faithful two readers, all week.


I was lucky enough to be asked to do a review of the play 'Busybody' last week for the Herald paper which covers Worthing, Shoreham and Lancing (and also features in the Littlehampton Gazette). Their usual reviewer was away and by a stroke of luck, I was allowed to submit my review of the play, being performed at Worthing's Connaught Theatre, which was then featured in last thursdays edition. So if you live in the South and happened to grab a copy you might have read my review and not even realised it was me! 


In case you missed it the review is here:

The reason I didn't tell you straight away is that I wanted to wait until the paper had done it's full circulation before I blogged about it. Just so I couldn't be accused of stealing anyone's thunder. The play has now finished and the new edition of the paper is out so I don't think I can be considered as stepping on any toes now.


It might seem like a really small step but as this is the first time I've had my name attached to an article in print, it's a really big deal for me.


Should any similar endeavors arise in the future you will of course be suitably informed. As ever I appreciate the on-going support you give to me and my blogs.

A Short Story by a Special Guest

I have come to realise that one of the added bonuses of having my own blog is that I can use it to introduce my readers (yes, all two of you!) to other fantastic writers. I had a very interesting conversation with a friend today about her work that she might, someday soon, let me read. And who knows, if I like it, maybe that would be enough for her to publish it and then I can tell you about it! More diverse writing for you, more readers for her! Win win! 

Today I have the pleasure of introducing you to an amazingly talented writer who I genuinely happen to think is one of the most talented people I know. And believe me, I know a lot of talented people. 

So I now hand over my blog, momentarily, to Sheila Mitchell.

The Lift

  “It’s 8:52.  It’s the usual endurance test as I wait for the lift to trundle its way down to the ground floor.  45 pain in the arse floors to rattle down, to get to me, and which one do I work on?  The sodding 44th!”

  “The worst thing about the wait is when you see it stop on a floor and hold for a few miserable seconds...or longer!  When that happens it’s like the entire universe is just taking the piss.  Finally it gets down to “G” and dings, sarcastically.”

  “I enter the lift and press 44 whilst crossing my fingers that I’ll be lucky, but I never am.  The lift meanders slowly through the numbers, all the while a muzak version of “Bohemian Rhapsody” is piped through irritatingly.  The lift might as well be humming the tune to annoy me.”

  “DING!”

  “Bollocks!  Stopping on 8.  What now?  The doors open...and nothing happens.  Bloody typical! Some arsehole presses the button and then fucks off on another lift.  The doors start to close again.  A figure darts into the lift, diving through the air, I barely have time to get out of the way.  The uniform suggests some kind of soldier, but I barely have time to register that as the three tentacles shoot in, grabbing the soldier by the throat, waist and right leg, yanking him out of the elevator.  Just as he is about to be pulled into oblivion he manages to lodge his left knee and right hand against the door. The tentacles tighten around him and his face, red through exertion goes even redder as whatever owns the tentacles tries to squeeze the life out of him.  He’s going purple now and trying to reach his gun holster on his right hip with his left hand.  Ha!  Good luck!”

  “NNNGGGGHHH!”

  “With an almighty show of strength he twists and whips the gun out and lets off a salvo of shots at whatever’s playing a live action version of Stretch Armstrong.  A defiant roar explodes in the elevator, along with several gallons of green gunk, a big splodge of which lands on my lapel.  I can’t believe it.  Some people have no consideration.  The doors close...finally.  The soldier rubs his neck that now has a huge red welt around it.  At last we’re moving again, until the bastard leans forward and presses 12.  FUCKING HELL!   The doors open and he runs out screaming, blasting his weapon at God only knows what?  Idiot!  He’ll run out of ammo soon.  We keep on moving up, but now the muzak version of “The Ace of Spades” being murdered by a plastic orchestra when we stop at 17.  Jesus Christ!”

  “The doors open again and again nothing.  I’m getting sick of this.  Suddenly a chain saw bursts into life somewhere on the floor.  A scream cuts through the air, getting closer, eventually a woman in her twenties with blood on her shirt stumbles in fear into the elevator.  The chainsaw is getting closer now.”

  “HOLD THE ELEVATOR!” some guy shouts, murder in his voice.  “HOLD IT!”

  “Fuck off!” I reply.  “I’m not holding it for two people!”

  “I press the doors close button and hear some dick head cursing me as the lift gets moving  again.  She’s stood there shaking and then she leans forward and presses 21.  What is it with everyone today?  She gets out of the lift and starts running, a chainsaw starts again somewhere in the background as do the screams.  Doors shut, we move on.  As the muzak changes and I wonder why the writers of “Highway to Hell” ever allowed this terrible version to be made.  The elevator stops on 24.  Fucking hell!”

  “The doors open and this time there is someone waiting for the lift.  He’s crawling on the floor, a wound in his belly leaking blood all over the place as he drags himself inside.  A woman follows behind with a mop and bucket and a yellow 'slippery-surfaces' warning sign.  The doors close and the guy at the back of the elevator, leaking all over the lift floor, uses all his strength to raise a hand and point.”

  “P...P...P...Please press 27,” he says. 

  “The cleaning woman does this as he lies back against the wall, groaning and struggling for breath. I can’t believe this.  It’s just not my day.  Eventually we get to 27 and he crawls out leaving more red goo all over the place.  The doors close and the cleaning woman starts mopping furiously.  Within seconds the red mess left by that bleeding idiot is all gone.  She then presses 36.  GODAMMIT!”

  “Excuse me,” she begins in a Spanish accent.  “Excuse me ...is wet here and no can walk, okay.”

  “She has a saggy face that looks like she’s been cleaning for a thousand years.  With that kind of timescale on her features she couldn’t have cleaned the lift and got off at another time?  We stop at 36 and she dawdles out, using her mop to push her wheeled, yellow bucket forward and thankfully out.  Hopefully that will be all I have to go thr...39!”

  “The doors open and a naked couple walk in.  Behind them the sounds of laughing and giggling float through the air.  They remain oblivious as they stare at each other in wonderment.  I hate this place.  You’d think an organization like ours could afford to buy its own building.  I chance a quick glance back.  Bastards!  She’s standing there looking so pert at him!  Well, he’s just showing off.  They leave at 42 to yet more giggling and moaning.  UGH!  Why they didn’t use the stairs I don’t know.  Finally we reach 44.  I leave the elevator at speed, ignore the toilets, even though I need it, and head straight to my desk.  I log in and check the time.  9.04am.  Fucking hell!”

  “Get stuck in the lift, Sheila?” asks Gloria, who sits across from me.

  “12 minutes to get from the ground floor to my desk,” I reply.

  “Who was it today?” she continues.

  “Army guy, screamer, bleeder, naked couple.  But you know what pisses me off the most?”

  “What’s that, love?”

  “THAT’S MEANT TO BE THE FUCKING EXPRESS ELEVATOR!”

  “Yeah, it’s always the same people, isn’t it?” asks Gloria.  “Have you seen the transforming photocopying robot yet?”

  “No, I haven’t.”  

  “He gets in on 20,” she continues, “Optimus Print I think his name is.  Don’t know what he’s doing there.”

  “Who needs the grief?” I reply and get out to work, selling insurance.

I can't help but wonder (wow, did I really just turn into Carrie Bradshaw?) if this was written for me, seen as I work for an Insurance company and quite frequently have to take the sluggish ride up to the 7th floor in the company lift? I wouldn't presume to think I'm that much of an influence on Sheila but it did make me chuckle at the thought. 

Valentines Day

Where to begin with this one? I should probably start with Miranda and try not to get lost on the way. Miranda started out as my penpal and quickly became one of my best friends. She was one of the most uniquely quirky, wonderfully weird people I have ever had the pleasure to know. She was beautiful, funny, smart and one of those people who usually knew exactly the right thing to say in any given situation. And even when she didn't, saying the wrong thing usually turned out to be right. 


In 2008, at the age of 25, she killed herself.


*I want to stress at this point that this is not going to be an upsetting post. Or at least I'm going to try and not make it an upsetting post. I just need to explain a little of the back story here.*


February 14th this year would have been Miranda's 28th birthday. In order to remember Miranda in a not-so-morbid way, my best friend (who I met because of Miranda) and I decided to go to London for the day, and do things she would have done if she were here. Like going to the cinema, seeing an exhibition, wandering around the shops etc. 


I found out the night before that the Prince Charles Cinema was showing a special double bill of Labyrinth and The Princess Bride. For those who didn't know Miranda, this choice of films could not have been more appropriate for us to see on this day if she had chosen them herself. The only snag was that Labyrinth was sold out.


On the off chance that Labyrinth tickets would somehow become available in the 24 hours that followed, my best friend and I headed to London on Valentines/Miranda Day anyway. Once at the PCC (after we were told there were categorically no tickets left for Labyrinth) we decided to see the imminent showing of Blue Valentine. It seemed an oddly appropriate choice seeing as it was Valentines Day. 

I won't go into details (as these are on my review blog) but it was a suitable mix of sweet love story and depressing bitterness. But it also left you with a sense of hope. No bad thing on Miranda day. 


After trying our luck for Labyrinth tickets again - and being told there were none - we went to one of Miranda's favourite London haunts (is it politically correct to say haunts when now refering to someone who's deceased?) The Cinema Store. Now, normally I would keep such gems as this place to myself, but to be honest I think they could use all the custom they can get these days as they have closed one of their 2 stores. If you're a film memorabilia fan and you happen to be going to London please pop in and have a look around, they're on Upper St Martin's Lane. Or go here http://www.thecinemastore.co.uk/. 


Anyway, following our brief shopping spree, we had a lovely dinner in 50's style American Diner Ed's and then headed back to the PCC for The Princess Bride. 

One of my all time favourite movies. I honestly don't think there is any better cinema experience than when you are part of an audience who all love the film you're watching as much as you do. As this was also the first time I'd seen The Princess Bride on the big screen it was a wonderful end to an almost perfect day.


The only way it could have actually been perfect is if Miranda had been there to celebrate with us. But for all I know, maybe she was.

Perfect Lazy Sunday

One of the reasons I started this blog, as mentioned previously, was because lots of my very good friends told me I should. Being that they were very good friends I figured this was sound advice. The other reason I started the blog, and more pointedly, the reason I started it when I did, was because I was off work sick, with lots of time on my hands and I was starting to go stir crazy.

There's only so much TV a person can watch and even though I have an extensive DVD collection I was bored out of my brain! Thankfully as well as my new blog stopping me from going crazy I have great friends. One of them was kind enough to come and see me on Sunday and bring cupcakes from my favourite bakery, the Angel Food Bakery. If you haven't been there yet, all I can say is, what are you waiting for? And before you say it, no, I don't know anyone who works there and no, they are not paying me to recommend them. They just make the best cupcakes I've ever had.

To repay my friend for his kindness I cooked a pie roast and agreed to let him play on my ancient Sega Megadrive. So we ate, we watched the extra's on Juno (which I'd watched the night before to alleviate some of the boredom), played a whole host of video games including the classic Sonic, Lemmings, Mickey Mouse's Castle of Illusion, Alien Storm and Pac Man and then dived into our little pieces of chocolate heaven.

The evening was finished off by one of those great 'winding down an evening' conversations that you can only have with someone you've known for a while and feel comfortable letting go of some of your secrets with. I realise that to some of you this might sound like a boring way to spend your sunday. But after the week I'd had, locked away with only my lurgee for company, it was a welcome change. And such a chilled out way to end my week of sickness and start my week back at work. If only all sunday's could be like that one!