Chatting Away to Blogger
My friend Joan makes brilliant films. She's going to Lancashire where a farmer has a meadow that's just right for filming in: all the grasses and weeds are in a perfect tangle; the film involves a moss bikini and a wooden hare made in Poland. A man with a massive collection of vintage cars is the cameraman. If I was a film-maker, I'd make a film about Joan making the film. It would probably almost be as good as Joan's film.
But I'm not a film-maker.
Suburban Pastoral got reviewed in Wearsthetrousers e-zine (you should have a look, it's great). The reviewer made a big deal out of my middle-aged-housewifeness and I felt a bit hurt until I remembered that that is exactly what I am. But I am a lot of other things too. It reminded me of The Chefs, when we made a big thing of our simplicity and I overheard a guy going into one of our gigs saying 'That's the band with the little girl in, isn't it?' to his friend. Somebody has to big up the ordinary in this world of superstars, Kate Mosses, Posh Spices, Hugh Fearnley Whittingstalls, the cross chef who shouts a lot, and so on. Everybody is making such a cacophony, whispering has a great appeal.
At least the reviewer said I could sing!
(Joan's brother in law Marlon rode a motorbike and died five weeks ago on the M25 when a lorry jacknifed. At his funeral on Wednesday, 300 Harley-Davidsons turned up and closed Enfield town centre. What a fantastic send-off for a lovely bloke.)