Leather and Lace ~ Stevie Nicks and Don Henley

I couldn't find an official video and the live footage was poor. But this is just so fantastic, I had to share.

Happy Sunday people!

Gonna Make Sweat ~ MCW

My contribution to Movie Clip Wednesday.

Apparently, this has been shamelessly knicked from Flushed Away.

I love it regardless.

Mudcrutch - Scare Easy (video)

I've been hitting Lastfm quite a lot recently.

Tom Petty Radio especially.

And I just love this. Really do. Enjoy.

Assuming the Position

The meal went well. Really well. Except I'm a bit fragile. Okay, more than a bit. Yes, I over-indulged. But damn it was fun.

Chicken was a definite success. I'm glad I tinkered with the marinade on Saturday. The extra ginger, chilli and coriander made all the difference. I knew my cooking was good when Boy came back from his dad, took a look in the stew pot, squeaked and filled up a plate full. A couple hours later he came down again and emptied all the pots of their contents. All I've got left is some salad and a bowl of dressing.

I'm moving slow today. A good night's sleep and I'll be raring to go again. The week is a-calling. I have things to do. Projects to catch up on. And I will....tomorrow.

Homesick

I was born in Trinidad, in the West Indies. I have chosen to make my home in Norwich, England. I don't regret this decision, despite living so far from my family. The tickets have been booked. On the 3rd of April, Boy and I will fly out from Gatwick and in 10 hours, delays etc notwithstanding, I will be home again. It's been 3 years since I've been, and I ache for it.

The Trinidad I knew when I was growing up, no longer exists. It's a harder, more dangerous place to be. But I ache for the warmth of the sun, the sound of crickets and gekkos in the house, the softness of the evenings, the effervesce of the people. Everything is so much brighter, louder there.

The part of me that is a Trini, for most of the time, is unseen. I lost the accent very quickly when I moved here. When I'm in the UK, I'm considered a bit exotic, a little bit different. Over there, I'm nothing special. Over there, I can disappear into the woodwork. No one asks me where I'm from, how long I've been here, the heritage of my parents.

I'm cooking a Trini meal for some friends on Sunday. This morning I did the shopping. On the menu: avocados, salad, stewed chicken, rice 'n' peas Roses style, plantains and pigeon peas. I had to go to 5 different shops to get all the ingredients. My final stop Waitrose. I just needed some Lea & Perrings, avocados, limes and alcohol. When I rocked up to the checkout, the very prim and proper middle aged woman in front of me, took one look at the contents of my shopping trolley, sniffed and pressed her lips into a thin line. I didn't think 4 cans of cider, 2 bottles of red, 1 bottle of white and a bottle of Trinidadian rum excessive for one o'clock in the afternoon. But hey, what do I know?

This afternoon, I seasoned the chicken. Lots of garlic, onions, ginger, chilli (without the seeds), thyme, chives and coriander, lime juice and the Lea & Perrings. Note to self: get a large mixing bowl. I washed my hands 3 times, there are some mistakes that don't get repeated: rubbing eyes after chopping chilli, being the main one. I put the chicken into the bottom of the fridge and then I sniffed the air.

It smelt of home: La Seiva Road. I could see my Dad potter about with my lovely niece; my nephew laughing, as he does from his belly. The grandma from my brother's wife side, chatting with the maid as they cook the meals for the day. My brother heading off to work in his brown overalls and trainers, his gorgeous wife whirling around to follow him. I nearly cried.

When Violence is the Only Answer

The other night, I assumed the position on my very comfy sofa. There was a glass full of drink next to me, I'd just finished my dinner. The work during the day left me feeling pleased with myself and what I'd achieved. I switched on the telly, ready to enjoy some NCIS action. All was well in my world. And then it came on...

Always have a new feminine hygiene product. Someone thought it was a good idea to place a CGI pad on a mechanical bull (motorised rodeo thingy, used to test drunken men's manhood in Texan pubs. One assumes the real men would be on the real thing with sharp hooves and pointy horns). The mechanical bull whirls around with the pad firmly attached, with the odd whip crack to emphasise....ye-es. The advert comes to a halt with a whip crack and a chirpy female voice advising us to have a 'happy period'.

I am a woman. I have never had a happy period in my life. The week's run up sees me spotty, snarling, bloated, weepy; the event itself sees me swallowing ibuprofen like a junkie, curled up sobbing through Amelie. Post-event, Boy goes off to therapy, counting the days off on the calendar when he can leave home.

I can cope with quite a bit of patronising. Nivea Visage Q10 Plus have informed me the reason I feel more confident now, than 10 years ago is purely down to their anti-age ingredients in their creams. Apparently, it has fuck-all to do with the fact that as I and many other women age, we realise it doesn't really matter. But, hey, I am currently coping with it.

I can cope with knowing that one day I'll go skiing with Tena Lady anchored round my loose bladder. I am even managing not to grind my teeth flat with the latest Halifax ads. I do occasionally want to smash their radio studio up, but it passes.

But Always is really, really begining to piss me off. It's not like I have a lot of choice for feminine hygiene products. Women are a bit of a captive market; unless of course I would care to try a moon cup. Which I don't, thanks all the same. What exactly do they think women do all day when afflicted by a period? I certainly wouldn't be on a mechanical bull, cracking a whip. In fact, I wouldn't be cracking a whip at all. And the cracking whip brings to mind all kinds of S&M practices that suddenly become really, really icky (or sticky) during the monthlies. EEeeewwwwww people, just ewww!

I just want to go out and hurt some advertising people now. Give them a stern talking to. With a whip.

The Launch

A few days have passed and I'm still overwhelmed by how fantastically well it went.

For once I got ready in plenty of time. I changed my mind about the make-up and was quite pleased with the results. The dress just slid on; the month of cornflakes and soup had definitely been worth it. Boy kept me company during my preparation, for which I'm extremely grateful. He distracted me to the extent I didn't notice the time. Which was probably just as well, The Director called me in transit from Stansted to reassure me he was still coming, but the conditions were foul: driving rain and idiots en masse.

When he arrived, I was applying the finishing touches on my nail polish. He declined a shower and changed straight into smarter clothers. Bless him. Boy was my hands as I flapped my nails and squeezed my laptop, purse and smoking accoutrements into my back-pack. He then scurried around getting the other bits and pieces and even managed to get me into my coat, without destroying my nail polish. Boy's future partner will be one lucky person. He was calm, controlled and hurried without taking any notice of my stress and squeaks. He is indeed a star!

We parked up and walked to the venue, which in pouring rain, over cobbles, wearing red suede shoes, was not a lot of fun. How I didn't break my ankles I'll never know. The Goddess truly does watch over her own. Even with the Director running late, I still had time to set up my laptop, get the float ready and sell a book before people started turning up.

The room looked fantastic with tables laid out with white linen and candles. DN, our Technical God, figured out the lighting system and dimmed the lights to make things friendly, but not too dark. At 7.25, there were 7 people in the room, by 7.35, I had to gently pat people out the way so I could meet and greet. The turnout was fantastic. My posse turned up as well. Many thanks to Gee, JD, the Great Ursus and his lovely. That people braved a horrid night to support and celebrate our venture was just amazing. AS was on instruction to turn up later. He later said it helped no end with hs nerves as he was just able to swan in, say hi to a few people and then move to prime position.

RJ, our Chief gave a brief introduction and then handed the floor over to AS. The reading was went really well. The audience smirked, chuckled and snorted throughout. Gee said afterwards, how well he'd done. Authors are notoriously bad at reading their own work, but AS totally rocked the crowd.

It all becomes a bit of a blur after that, I'm left with impressions and small flashes of memory. There were lots of smiles and genuine pleasure at our accomplishment. I took money, handed out business cards, took details for people signing up to our mailing list. I'm surprised AS's hands weren't aching at the end, after all the books he signed. My hands were freezing from sheer terror and the cold terrace where I sheltered under a brolly, smoking. Goddess bless the Great Ursus; from the depths of his coat he brought out a hand warmer which I huddled round. Pretty clothing and shoes may look fantastic, but damn they're not half cold and uncomfortable. My feet were screaming by the time people started shuffling off home.

I crept out of bed Friday morning, with just enough time to make the World Domination de-briefing meeting. I was more than a little bit fragile, due mainly to the half-hundred weight of tobacco I'd smoked on the run up to the event and the cider I'd drunk. Note to Self: when one needs to think coherently the next day, one should not consume that much alcohol the night before. Mind you, given what a lightweight I am, it only takes a half of cider too many to push me into the green zone.

We sold some books, schmoozed and strutted our stuff. All in all, not bad for a night's work. I must apologise for the lack of pictures. It was just one thing too many for me to manage. Take my word for it though, I do scrub up just fine.

I'm looking forward to more of the same. More readings, more events, more books, more fun. Hell, just MORE! Bring on the World Domination!

Launch of TOUCHING THE STARFISH

Just set up the room. The books are all laid out, the PA is ready to go. There are posters up. We're now on the count-down.

I should eat something sooner rather than later. I should put my head down for an hour.

Instead, I'm blogging.

It's not my book. I didn't write it. It's sits next to me and I still reach out to stroke it. I came to the party late, but I still have this sense of wonder.

I have the dress, the shoes and the new make-up to play with.

I think about the coming event with a mixture of pure terror (what if no-one comes, or no-one likes it) and pure elation (OMG! Look what we did!)

Dear Goddess, please let it go well. Please, don't let them down.

Totally Blissed Out

This afternoon, the 100 copies of TOUCHING THE STARFISH arrived, ahead of Thursday's launch do. How excited am I?

In case you haven't been keeping up, the Launch is Thursday! OMG! I have a fabulous Karen Millen dress which I've starved myself to get into and new shoes. I'm overly excited and being a bit of a Stress Bunny. Of course, I'm also doing the 'no-one will come'.

After we lugged the boxes of books in, we had to look. I swear, I was shaking. I still can't believe it. We did it. People are now starting to read it and the feedback we're getting is so positive. It's so heartening. I have my very own, signed copy sitting beside me, I stop typing every now and then to give it a quick stroke. You have no idea how fantastic it is to work with people who don't think it strange that I have to fondle the cover, sniff the pages, touch the words. People who get that books are a tactile experience, as well as cerebral. I feel like I'm home.

For someone with creative yearnings, this is the perfect project for World Domination for me. AS was my creative writing tutor from the start and I often joke that I hold him responsible for the life I have now. If he hadn't opened the door and showed me this fabulous creative world, I'd have still had a proper job...Actually, I'd have been in prison, for taking an axe to my co-workers; or in the local mental hospital; or taking valium by the handful. He's written a book that is laugh out loud funny and poignant and clever...I'll shut up now. Yes, I do know I'm biased (with good reason). I can use the skills gained from my 'proper job', and my creative skills and be a business mid-wife...I am one lucky woman.

I celebrated by going for a drive in my shiny car. The feeling as I bombed around winedy Norfolk roads, listening to the Chemical Bros up loud, with the boxes of books in the boot...totally blissed, dude. And on the return journey, there were fireman.

There is a God, and She is good!

Soloman Kane

The Great Ursus and his lovely invited Gee and myself to the movies tonight to see Soloman Kane. I'm rather fond of sci-fi/fantasy films and was up to be entertained. However, I'm now home again and I had to share my experience with you. Hopefully, you'll learn and won't feel the need to part with your hard earned cash or precious time for this particular pile of poo.

Solomon Kane, the nasty piece of work has a bit of a problem. His soul is damned because of his evil ways with the sword, knife and gun (I thought the scriptwriters had read David Gemmel's White Wolf. Shame they didn't use it to their best advantage). He runs off to a monastry for a year, finds God, etches religious symbols on his body to ward off the evil he's brought upon himself. He's thrown out and told to go home. We have a flashback to tell us he's a second son, his older brother and an even nastier piece of work, than he was in his good-old-bad days. Anyway, he meets up with a family of nice Pilgrims off to the New World and they travel awhile. To cut a long story short, most of the family have a sharp introduction to the wrong side of a sword and the girl (Meredith) is taken off by a mysterious warrior in a skin mask. In order to redeem his soul, he makes a promise to save the girl. I won't spoil the surprise and tell you more. Truthfully, I just can't bear to write about it anymore.

How may I mock thee (Soloman Kane)? Let me count the ways.

Firstly, make sure the scriptwriters are paid enough to write actual dialogue, not cliches. When I first began down creative writing classes, my tutor spent many an hour crossing out the cliches I'd painstakingly reproduced. After much mockery, he broke me of that particular, nasty habit. I would suggest that any budding scriptwriters avail themselves of his services; it's worth it, if only to avoid the public humiliation of having to own lines like 'the only Devil in here is me.'

Secondly, as Gee pointed out, they couldn't come up with their own imagery/plot for themselves and shamelessly nicked it from at least 6 films including: Willow, Beastmaster, Lord of the Rings, I am Legend and Never Ending Story.

Thirdly, it always helps if the characters are English and from Cornwall area that they should sound as if they actually come from that region. I know this is a huge bag of worms for many films. Take Sean Connery's Spanish accent in Highlander, pretty much the same as his English James Bond. However, using a mostly British cast, it should be fairly straight forward to employ a dialogue coach to at least make sure the accents don't become a mashup of Scottish/Norfolk/Welsh and Queen's English.

Fourthly, I understand that the intention was to have the location in the rain, to show the blight on the land. However, 2 hours worth of rain and mud has not convinced me that this strategy works at all. The director was a touch heavy-handed. I kinda got it after the first half hour of rain and mud; it just got a bit dull very quickly thereafter. There are better, more subtle ways of getting the point across. I kept thinking the poor actors must have had a good dose of athelete's foot after the filming.

Fifthly, with that amount of rain James Purefroy's hair shouldn't have been that lank and greasy. Ewwww...

Sixthly, just because it's a fantasy, there is no excuse for lazy plotting. Any action was preceeded by much flag waving. There was gore, but not a huge amount; but no thrills and certainly, no surprises. Towards the end of the film, the twist in the tail might have come as a bit of a surprise to Solomon Kane, but it certainly wasn't to those of us in the cinema. If anything, we're wondering why it took him so long to catch up. Thick is not sexy in your male lead.

Seventhly, if you're going to tell a tale based around Christian beliefs of redemtion, why have a random Pagan woman healing the lead after he'd been crucified (along with two other unfortunates)? Also, what was with the random witch/hag? And by the way, I knew the girl was the witch from the get-go. What was her infecting Meredith, for it to go.....nowhere? There was no point to that event, and the editor should have stuck to his/her guns and axed that whole sub-plot.

The only surprise worth noting is that he and the girl, don't get it together in the end. The only bit of control exercised throughout this whole project.

I don't count it as a complete waste of time. I got to hang out with some of my favourite people, take the piss and be entertained by their piss takes. Plus, I got a blog post out of it. If I were you, I'd save the money, have a coffee and a panini instead of wasting the money on a cinema ticket. Wait until it hits the Sci-fi Channel.

Happy Valentine's Day

Even if I wanted to ignore it, the shops filled with bright red hearts, cuddly toys and balloons, would have made it impossible not to know that Valentine's Day is upon us. Needless to say, there are no boxes of chocolates, balloons, cards or cuddly toys resting on my doorstep. Thank the Goddess.

Any man appearing with cuddly toys, balloons or a box of Cadbury's Milk Tray for me, would need a trip to A&E to remove them from his rear end. I'm not partial to the Forever Friends bears, cards with cutesy doggerel or milk chocolates.

I usually dread Valentine's Day. It's the day when the world rubs my nose into the fact I'm single.

However, this Valentine's Day is slightly different. No, my status hasn't changed. Robert Downey Jr is still very much married and in ignorance of my fabulousness.

For me, life is about connections. The connections I keep, the solid gifts of friendship that supported me through my ups and downs. The connections that keep going through the years despite my best efforts to fuck things up. I might not have a man, but I have many, many people who are committed to me (who occasionally think I need to be committed), who love me, just for being me.

I had a stark reminder today; life is too short to fuck about. Today, is as good as any to tell you, how much I appreciate you being here with me. If I were you, I'd grab your significant other, your children, your parents, give them a big hug, tell them you love them. Don't waste the precious time on games, on fears, on the small stuff.

Happy Valentine's Day.

Baker Street

Who doesn't like great sax first thing in the morning?

World Domination

Well, I've been dropping enough hints that I had projects on the go. This is the first one.

I take little credit for the idea. Four friends got together and decided that the internet provided the perfect opportunity to publish excellent fiction. They are incredibly committed to supporting and promoting creative excellence in the written word. I asked to join the party because it's such a fantastic opportunity and I'm a sucker for a challenge.

Thus, Unthank Books was conceived. The ethos behind the company is to take the risks publishers used to take on unusual novels: writers who were finding their feet; writers who had something interesting to say. We will publish novels that are prepared to take risks; challenge their readers; novels that have something interesting to say and interesting ways to say it.

The inaugural novel is TOUCHING THE STARFISH by Ashley Stokes.

It's an interesting vision of the creative writing world. Having lived through that world, it made me laugh and cringe, usually at the same time. It is writing at its most inventive. If you're up for something different (and no, that's not me being polite), follow the link. We are a print on demand publisher, so the book you order is for you and you alone.

I hope you enjoy.

PS: If you like what you see, can you please pass it on?

I know, I know, it's a shameless plug.

PPS. The Facebook Page, be a fan. Go on, you know you want to!

Priorities

As my plans for World Domination near fruition, I find myself faced with a dilema: what on earth am I going to wear?

I hit Norwich yesterday to answer that very question. I had in the back of my mind a dress I'd seen in the window of Karen Millen. I found some fantastic dresses. They were Oh My God expensive, but hey, the event in February (nudge, nudge, wink, wink) is when I step out and there's no point looking like something the cat threw up. My normal dress code is: jeans, comfy jumper and walking boots. I like being comfortable and I'm not willing to totter around on high heels on a daily basis, just to go into town to pick up some essentials. So, the opportunity to dress up in girls clothes is always welcome. And if I'm getting a new dress, obviously I need new shoes, new bag and accessories. My gran used to say, do it properly or don't do it at all.

Back to Karen Millen. So there were these fabulous dresses, which as far as I were concerned, were perfect. Unfortunately, Karen's idea of a size 10 and mine are two different things. The dress I wanted I could not breathe in properly and it stretched in places, I'd rather it didn't. In all honesty, a diet of bread and water would sort that out by the time the event rolls around. However, there's a part of me that is very resistant. I'm buggered if I'm going to starve myself just to wear the dress once. Either it's perfect now, or I will have to walk away.

Humpf.

Sometimes being a grown up sucks. So, I'm going once again into the breach this morning to look for the dress that says: smart, stunning, not a woman to be triffled with. Wish me luck. Expect more whinging when I start looking for the shoe and bag combo.

Revenge of the Idiot Box

I once again assume the position on my sofa and indulge in my nightly diet of murder and mayhem. I like murder and mayhem. It's fun to watch. Tortured cops/feds/law-enforcement officers struggling to make right the wrongs of the dubious.

As always the ad breaks are an opportunity for a crafty one, or another cuppa. But mostly, I sit there, brain decomposing until the fun starts again. However, there are occasions where ads are so hideous I'm driven to projectile vomiting.

The Halifax
Halifax office monkeys in a breakfast show radio format, high 5 themselves to the soundtrack to Spandau Ballet's Gold, an acknowledged cheesey tune even at the height of their success. The Halifax does have a reputation to uphold; after all they gave us Howard and then an animated Howard after he became too expensive (one assumes they didn't kill him and stash him under the patio slabs to save paying him). Given the high bar they previously set themselves, they have outdone themselves on pure annoyance factors.

I am not a morning person. I loathe morning radio. This immediately got my back up. And coupled with the self-congratulatory high 5s, smug grins and cheesey music, yes I do want to commit murder. And no, I'm not going to open a current account with them. Just because of that ad.

Tena Lady
I didn't realise female incontinence was such a problem. None of my female friends have ever complained of suffering from it and we over-share everything. Plus, none of them ever smells of anything other than posh perfume. Perhaps they've been using Tena Lady on the sly?

I'm not bothered about her striking eyes or her sassy salsa moves. Should the time ever come when I need said products, I can't see myself skiing, or on a swing, or painting some random bloke's toenails.

PS. I don't have a happy period either.

New Vice

This is a 6 string baritone dulcimer played by Bradley Fish.

No, he's not my new vice, but the dulcimer is.

Neil Young Harvest Moon (live)

I'm having a laid back time and this just hits the spot, even though it's the wrong time of year.

Family of the Heart

It's safe. I've stopped sniffing now. When I could see, I swept my kitchen. Bits of scrambled egg, bread crumbs, masticated peas and a dessicated sausage rolled into my dust pan. Evidence of the joyous chaos that has been in Palais de Roses over the past 9 days. I changed bedding, put loads of laundry on, collected the bits that were forgotten: a dinosaur, a pig, a glove and a watch. I had a bath, indulged in some smellies and put on comfy clothes. The house is quiet. The Cat is still in hiding. It'll take her awhile to realise we're back to normality, whatever that means.

There are 3 human beings who currently walk this Earth, who I can say changed my life utterly, beyond recognition, positive transformative catalysts. Aitch is one of those people. Through her I firstly found my spiritual path; I found a family who welcomed me into their arms and refused to let go, no matter what an arse I was being; I found music and dancing; and laughter, lots of laughter. I found the place I belong.

Boy and I moved out of the house to the Great Ursus and his lovely, so she and young family could run riot here. As a plan, it was perfect. They had a brilliant base from which they could catch up with everyone. They had space and privacy. I ended up staying over a couple of nights, sleeping on my couch. I loved seeing the toys scattered around, hearing the boys excited chatter just because it was morning and every day is still an adventure. It didn't make sense to some people, but it worked.

Now I sit here in the silence and I miss them so.

FYI

Boy and I will be elsewhere for the next 2 weeks. Gee's fabulous daughter Aitch and family are rocking up in about an hour and a half and will be running riot over Palais de Roses. Therefore, normal blogging service is likely to be patchy.

Don't have too much fun while I'm gone.

Parody

I'm starting as I mean to go on.

Enjoy!