Stopp Ppress!

Playing the Icarus Club tonite, Station Hotel, not far from Hither Green Statio
Also- a link for the Dumfries and Galloway song!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G7dv_I3iYIM&feature=channel

Shopping

I bought some pillows from Waring and Gillows
I bought some shoeises from John Lewises
I bought some pasta from Asda
I bought a desk-o from Tesco
A book on myths from WH Smiths
Some deep fat fryers from Robert Dyas
A brand new dress from BHS
An old LP from HMV
A book on phones, from Waterstones
Fried eggs from Greggs
A fiddle from Lidl (well, they were selling trumpets last Christmas!)
Six forks with dates on, from Fortnum and Mason
Earrings my size fro Accessorise
Plain cherries from Sainsbury's
A beach ball blow-up from the Co-op
And some horrible jerkins from Dorothy Perkins

Now my shopping bag is full.

Dumfries and Galloway

From the sighting of a silly red squirrel charging across the road (what wrong with grass verges, and, er, trees?) on the way over from Edinburgh, I knew it was going to be an interesting and quirlky songwriting weekend.
The Friar's Case Hotel is a beautiful, small and old-fashioned red stone hotel just outside Dumfries, set in lush woodland on the River Nith. Martin, Scott and myself went for a walk to steady our nerves and a huge owl skimmed the lower branches of the trees by the river, almost like an omen of learning and wisom.
At dinner we played a game or two- favourite songwriters, the song we wishes we'd written, that sort of thing. The fifteen songwriters visibly relaxed and we began to laugh together, always a good sign.
The next morning, the workshops began. I was cruel. I got my groups, split into two, tow write songs in half an hour, then play them to the other half, who then had to do a cover version. I strode round, timekeeping in a gently bullying way, and it worked- amazingly enough! I started seeing the people in terms of colour, accidentally pitting two pale blues against three reds: but it seemed to work.
The afternoon was spent wroiting songs for the competition. Luckily, Scott and MArtin were the competitive ones. I suggested to my group the we wrote a spoof publicity song for the Dumfries and Gallowway Tourist Board (is there one?) and we got to work, writing dreadful puns (thanks for your input Liza P!) and cheesey hooks. At one point I dashed out and grabbed a handful of leaflets from the hotel's display to boost our content!
We had a urried rehearsal outside. Where was Steve? We couldn't find him anywhere and decided to go ahead, standing in the grass strumming in a parody of the Sound of Music. we got to the end bit: 'Our Sol-way Firth', where we built up a cheeky barbershop harmony, 'Our-Sol, Our-Sol, Our-Sol...', when bang on cue, Steve came leaping down the slope from behind a bush with his guitar, singing his harmony and co9mpleting the song. Eat yer heart out, Maria Von Trapp!
The evening concert was brilliant- started off by Liz with her hilarious songs, and running through anyone who wanted to sing and play. Alistair played a song of his own comosition for the firat time ever, other played infront of an audience for the first time, Andrew Bailey, the organiser, played and sang his song (bless his cotton socks), and then it was time for the competition.
The three hotel guests were commandeered to become judges. Martin's group went first, singing a gospel song with a preacher section featuring Jim Byrne, and a walkabout; next up with Scott' group, who sang a layered harmony song about inspiration and floating. Then it was our turn with our silly 'Dumfries and FGalloway' song, or 'D and G' as Liz had re-branded it. We pretended that some guys from the tourist board had popped into the hotle for a coffee, heard us playing, and commissioned our song.
All the puns were there: Alan's joke about the weather and the sun ('even Robert Burns') jokes about meeting sheep in the Baa, all that sort of nonsense. But it was a hoot to play.
The judges had fixed themselves, and each song got one vote, until the bar manager leapt into the fray, appearing from the gloom by magic, and voted for 'Dumfries and Galloway'. So we won a million pounds each, of course.
What a mad weekend! It was great, with all sorts of sub-features such as the profiteroles with unintentinally sour cream (following broccoli and stilton soup: maybe the idea will catch on?) and lots of supportive ceativity, questioning of ideas, and laughing.
Naturally, it was knackering, but I can't wait for next year!

Quick Post

Oh
Oh
Quick!
Quick!
I am in the library, typing as fast as I can. I will only be able to blog the Sapphire Club, and the Song Writing weekwnd will have to wait till tomorrow when I will be at work (so long as Offsprog 2 doesn't test positive for Swine Flu this afternoon)
The Sapphire is Lorna Brooks' club at the Guilty Lily in Edinburgh and it's a totally funky gig to play as a performer and to go to as a punter.
The bar is a bit like an oddball theatre in a village hall or something- you eat off wooden tables, surrounded by chaps in sandals and old ladies; the staff are really friendly. Then you go down behind a curtained area to see the bands play. There was a good crowd of listeners, thanks to the clever trick of lining up the seats so people weren't clustered together in gossiping gropups, and it meant that as a performer you could chat to the audience properly and really enjoy playing. Lorna kicked off the night, playing a couple of songs that showed off her lovely voice (creamy chocolate? How do I describe it?) and she was a hard act for me to follow, but after a couple of songs I felt really relaxed and enjoyed it hugely. There was a little break, Lorna played again and the Martin went on and played a hilariously surreal set, making everyone smile,. We did a couple from the album to finish off (Hamilton Square and Sweet Saviour) and were very happy to find a lot of plas to chat to afterwards. Lorna and her partner Mandy are perfect promoters, calm, hospitable and with a vision and I know their club is going to be a success (this was only their second night).
What a difference from the surreally weird behaviour of the Kelevedon hosts
(it's written, but it's hiding for a while!)

An Exercise in Patience

Hello blog, I am back on a cranky computer at work. You have to shove the keys down with your fist, and put the spaces between the words in later, as it joins them all together.
Everyone will be familiar with my experience yesterday- three hours on the phone, first to Talk Talk (the person couldn't understand a word I was saying and consequently spent about half an hour trying to pass me on to someone else), ten minutes talking to a very rude salesman called Craig at BTinternet who clearly didn't want to sell any more Internet packages yesterday, and two exceptionally nice Asian gentlemen at Netgear who tried their best to help.
Defeated, I went up the road to the library to try their machines (our only Internet cafe has closed down, a recession victim), only to find their machines were broken, due to a virus. Could it be swine flu?

Tomorrow, I'm heading to Edinburgh for a gig at the Sapphire Club (details on my Myspace page) and then to Dumfries for the Song Writing weekend. I believe there is still a place available: look at www.myspace.com/guitarweekends for details. It is in a beautiful place with a river, trees, a nice oddball hotel and great teachers(Martin Stephenson,Scott MacDonald and..er..me), and is lots of fun, all-in for under 300 quid.
That's it for now, I have RSI from walloping the keys of this surly computer keyboard and I'm off to usemy fingersfor what they are meant for- playing me guitar!

Sporadique

Home internet's down (silencesilence, not talktalk) so excuse lack of postings till sorted!

The Hamilton Square Launch

We stood at the Sea Shell eating fish'n'chips.. Paul Davey appeared at the other side of the road and we called him into join us before wandering along to the Perseverance; the sound guy David was there, Jim the Fiddle turned up and Daisy, who is the ace merchandise person, followed soon after. We had a rambling soundcheck ( we were a bit tired after assembly and recording with the Song Club in the daytime), and settled down to chat with people as they arrived.
I kicked things off with a short set, joined by Paul for London and Martin for Poetry and Rhyme and Heaven Avenue; then Martin did his short set, putting Jim through his paces. We had a short break (a cake break- yes I did make the cakes but the black writing icing I'd bought to draw music notes on top was too stubborn to come out of its tube and it was a hell of a lot easier to just bung a smartie on the top of each one)
Then it was straight into the CD tracks- I dedicated Loverman to you, Foolish Girl, as you were with us in spirit. It was informal and friendly and warm and just about perfect in terms of playing a gig, as everyone in the audience was smiling and so were we.
Martin sang beautifully and the guys played really well, complementing the songs. A guy in the audience liked Hamilton Square so much he stood up and shouted 'That was the best song of the lot!'; we finished with Sweet Saviour (the first time I have been able to remember the words), and then did the Airship Song as an encore.
What a perfect launch party! Thank you for coming, everyone, and thank you to the family for turning out completely and being such good eggs!

Beetle

This is Enfield Caractacus, a stag beetle hero famed for his glossy hide.

Music, Music, Music

We managed a rehearsal in the park yesterday, sitting on huge rough wooden chairs carved out of tree trunks, with two lads who were revising for their accountancy exams under the trees as our audience.
We were worried about disturbing them, but they told us they liked it and they came over for a discreet listen at one point.
Assorted dog-walkers, joggers and skateboarders smiled as they went past and it was cool in the shade, which made it and ideal spot for a harmony and a melody to settle together.
Song Club has made a rough recording- we are performing at Assembly tomorrow, so if the children can manage not to pinch each other for five minutes, we might get there. They are amazing actually and as always they have jumped on board and are roaring along in full energy mode.
I have made some cakes for the launch tomorrow- they were meant to be sweet little things but they are lumpy and mis-shapen and the big heart cake broke into pieces because I made it in an old cake tin and it got stuck. However, i am not superstitious, and as far as the little lumpies are concerned, a spot of creative icing will do the trick. The big broken heart will last for nanoseconds once Offsprog One returns home tomorrow, so all is good.
I went to the dentist today and I didn't even cry!
Fancy that!
So, hope to see you tomorrow at:
The Perseverance, 11 Shroton street, Marylebone
Music starts at 8.30
It's £8.00 to get in
We will have CDs, badges, and... cakes (unless I eat them all first: I've had three already!)

Wreck

Beady eyed and only coming up to our elbows, the Song Club children run rings around us, with their own little codes of misbehaviour, able to turn each other into quivering jellies with a withering look ('evils') and turning us into exhausted bags of bones and spent muscle by the end of an hour's hard work.
How come I ache so much? I didn't think I had moved. I have nearly lost my voice, and I smell of pencils.

Three boxes of CDs turned up this afternoon (thats three hundred!). It looks fab, but I've been too busy Song Clubbing and re-stocking on the family toothpaste and shampoo to listen yet. The gig's going to be good, we're rehearsing on Thursday evening. The tickets are selling (good idea to get one in advance as it's such a small venue, from wegottickets.com, details on my myspace, www.myspace.com/helenmccookerybook) and I am trying to learn my words, difficult with a brain with so many leaky holes in it.
You will have gathered that I am a physical and mental wreck this evening. I am sitting on one of the cats, who doesn't seem to mind (likes the attention) and looking out of the window at the sunshine. People are walking past, spilling their secrets into their mobile phones in loud voices, as though the magic of the mobile will deafen strangers to their conversations.

A Car-and-a-Half, and a Backwards Heron

I drove to Leeds and back today to pick up Offsprog One's stuff.
On the way, I passed a car-and-a-half. Someone had got a Hillman Imp and painted it grey and green, and was towing the back part of another Hillman Imp, painted the same, as a trailer, with a flat bit of metal or fibreglass blocking off the gap where the front bit wasn't.
Extraordinary! Everyone was slowing down to take a look,
Stylish, too.
Later, I was sure I saw heron flying backwards. Of course it wasn't but once you see one strange thing you start expecting loads of them like number 42 buses all coming along at once, doncha?

Thatchpuss

One of my cats has learned a miaow that sounds worryingly like late-phase Thatcher- that sort of almost honking, harsh, urgent, assertive and aggressive yarp that means business.
I've told her not to bother: I ignored it back then, and I can ignore it now, too.

Ray's Jazz Shop

I've just got back from Ray's Jazz Shop, where I went to get a CD for Little Bruv's birthday.
I was talking to the Man at the Counter, and asking him if Steve Beresford still books people to play in the cafe at Foyle's- apparently he doesn't any more as nobody got paid for it.
We were talking about the short sets people used to play there- I got there 20 minutes late once and missed the entire thing.
But the Man at the Counter told me that when jazz artists are promoting an album they sometimes play very short sets indeed- Evan Parker played a ten minute set once!

I like Ray's Jazz Shop as it's calm and hasn't got too many CDs. Those it has are unusual.
I am bound to dislike about 75% of them due to my prejudice against most forms of jazz, but those I do like I really, really like.

I have fun imagining what Ray is/was like.
A portly, late middle-aged gentleman, with a jazz beard, horn rimmed spectacles on a chrome bobbly chain and a worn-out Hawaiian shirt, baggy dark brown cords and folksy sandals, with socks with a toe poking out of a hole on one side. His fingers on one hand are yellow from the roll-ups he used to smoke, and his teeth are a little brown from drinking French red wine.
He always has a 78 rpm record in one hand, which he is filing in his collection, and when he remembers to eat, he eats sushi. He is divorced from his wife, who lives in Hampstead and works in a charity shop (family money) and he regularly falls in love with Japanese girls who are not the slightest bit interested in him. He used to play tenor sax rather well, but gave up after a hurtful experience in New York.
Am I right Ray?

You may be interested in why there is no review of the gig last night. It was hilarious in a macabre way, and may crop up on the blog as an anonymous gig later in the year!

The Kelvedon Institute, Tonight

Tonight- the Kelvedon Institute, Kelvedon, Essex!

The Letter 'H'

I was pootling about on Myspace and looking at the McCookerybook page before exploring this morning. Little England started to play just as I left for another artist's page, and all I caught was the quick intake of breath before the work 'Heartbroken'.
I remembered when Helen and the Horns recorded Footsteps At My Door for RCA back in the 1980s. They insisted that Adam Kidron (the producer) and myself went into an editing studio to remove the sharp inhalation from the beginning of sentence 'Here's the place my one-time lover lay....', which began the track
We spent a morning doing this, which was possibly the most let-them-eat-cake-ish moment of my entire life!