Kittens in nature. This blog hurts.

I am well known for my lack of enthusiasm for anything remotely kittenish.

The following arrived via twitter from Philippa Perry:

Kittens in nature
On a spring day
Come through on twitter
and ruin my day.

He finds a reason
As soon as he can
To hate little kitty
Although he's aman.

kitty must bear
The brunt of his blame
All of his misery
And much of his shame.

Thank you Philippa.

Pepe Francis MBE.

Congratulations to Pepe on the award of his gong for services to Steelpan music. More HERE

Bookslam. Jon Ronson, Hannah Peel and Francesca Beard.

I invariably enjoy Bookslam. It is refreshingly unpretentious and laid back. Last night was no exception. I was interested to hear Jon Ronson on his new book on how to spot a psychopath and pleased to be both amused and enlightened, I know he was selling a book but it didn't feel like he was selling a book. He looked like he was enjoying himself too. the event included a 'signer', the first time I have seen this at the Tabernacle. He added an extra dimension to the narrative and was a welcome addition to the proceedings, adding an element of theatre. the Psychopath Test is out now published by Picador.

Francesca Beard writes the kind of narrative poetry I like and is very comfortable to listen to. good fun too.

Hannah Peel was an absolute delight, her intelligent narrative songs delivered cookily (this is a compliment) and happily accompanied by a guitarist and intriguingly mask wearing keyboard/percussionist. I was enchanted by the music box she played for a couple of songs, she later informed me that she makes the paper reels herself with a hole puncher. I liked Hannah Peel a lot.

hannah's debut album 'the Broken Wave' is out now.

Good fun.

A passion play at the Tabernacle W11.

Tuesday evenings meeting at the Tabernacle was a roaring success. Turnout was impressive, no doubt helped by the 'Reclaim the Tabernacle' flyers doing the rounds prior to the meeting. It was certainly passionate but at the same time constructive.

After an introduction from Shabaka (Carnival Village) a lively Q&A took place with a few grudges aired as well as some valid concerns from the community expressed, resulting in various ongoing discussions as to the use of the space. After a difficult couple of years the Tabernacle, under the Aegis of Shabaka, Chris Scholey and his team, now has the opportunity to move on to become an all inclusive centre for the community.

Gossip on Portobello road. Pizza East and The Tabernacle.

It is a shame when yet another local pub closes down to be reincarnated as a trendy 'destination'. this has happened recently to the Fat Badger which once occupied the corner of Portobello and Goldbourne. It is now called Pizza East Portobello.

I had heard that the place was heaving the minute it opened. It is, but not necessarily for normal reasons. Pizza East is part of the Soho House chain. The Electric in Portobello Road is also part of this chain. when Pizza East opened the Electric closed for major refurbishment and memberships were transferred to Pizza East up the road.

We can safely assume that the majority of people using the new gaff at the moment will transfer their attention back to the Electric when it re-opens. I'll review Pizza East then.

The TABERNACLE in Powis square is holding a public meeting on Tuesday evening at 7.00 pm. The meeting is intended to set out to the local community the plans and aims for the Tabernacle in the years ahead.

There is a flyer going around demanding that the place be reclaimed for the community and calling for the meeting to be used as a rally. The flyer is anonymous. who is behind it? Is this another case of a small part of the community taking it upon itself to 'speak' for the community as a whole. I shall be interested to see if the 'Reclaim the Tabernacle' group is a fair representation of the Spanish, Portuguese, Somalian, Irish, Sri Lankan  etc etc members of the community. I have a feeling it will not be.

I'll report back on the meeting with an update.

After the poets convention.

Hey Susie remember me?

May I have my jacket back

You borrowed it last night 

While sharing a cigarette outside

With the tall Hungarian poet.

I didn't see you again.

Had he been a better poet

He would have wrapped warm words about you.

Removing the need

For you to borrow my jacket

Or for me to write these words.

Gil Scott Heron. 1949 - 2011. He died too soon.

Last night I met a young poet thirty years my junior. She and I had seemingly nothing in common save poetry yet we found one common reference point: Gil Scott Heron.

Maybe for her it was about his skin colour or his role as, if not father of 'rap' then certainly the man who planted the seed that gave us Hip Hop. He gave us something of a meeting place.

If Gil Scott Heron had not existed I would not be doing the work I do now. Two poets have inspired me: One, Brian Patten, gently spoken English romantic, urged me to write. Gil on the other hand urged me to experience life, get out there, taste it all, feel the bad as well as the good, the rough and the smooth, holler at injustice and then bitch about it and then write.  Gil didn't have an easy life, troubles came his way and troubles inspired and informed much of his work. troubles were his muses. Thanks to Gil I now experiment with involving musicians in my poetry, I experiment with sounds. His later poem: 'where has the night gone' is the saddest thing I know and 'I'm new here' reliably assured me that , no matter how far I'd gone, I could always turn around.

He lived long enough to see the revolution televised and the pointlessness of 'Whitey on the moon'. He live long enough to see a black president. He lived long enough to see a resurgence of interest in his work and his words.

But he didn't live long enough.

Gil, youv'e gone too far this time. Too far to turn around.

I deleted your name out of pure joy.

I deleted your name out of pure joy

I wrote it on my school books for practice
I created new typefaces to suit
I wrote it on album covers to read as we hippliy listened
I wrote it in amateurish embroidery
on my first denim jacket
when a hells angels motto would have easily sufficed
I wrote it in snow
In weedkiller
In paint stripper
I wrote it in haste
and at leisure and in stables and with the lawn mower

with my fiinger on the dust of white vans

I wrote it in imaginary sky writing
looped the loop at the end of the 'L'
I tattooed my dreams
And wrote 24 hour one word lyrics
in shy places.

I wrote it.

Then I deleted your name out of pure joy

When you noticed.

Tony Butcher Photography at the Tabernacle.

I reviewed an exhibition of Tony's photographs at the Tabernacle some months ago. At that time his show focussed on the body; obviously a subject he enjoys.

Currently on show in the Tabernacle gallery is a much broader demonstration of Tony's eye and Tony's art. Street art, Provence, Californian excess, the body and even babies in a box come under his scrutiny and his lens.There are 'plays' with focus that scream impressionism and there are monochrome studies to die for.  A triptych of Brighton skylines is mesmeric in it's power; two horizons teasing you with the absence of a third. 

If I had the money two of Tony's images would be hanging on my wall now.

Do make an effort to see this.

Lager and lime. A journey to Bukowski.

It started with an innocent twitter strand; @1755Dictionary had mentioned lager and lime in a tweet, I had commented and away it went nowhere. We did briefly discuss snakebite, Watneys Red Barrel and worthington E (Imagine walking into your local and saying: 'I'll ave an E please').

Lager and lime was the drink of choice for a lot of my teenage peer group. I suppose the juvenile sweetness of the lime cordial cut the adult alcohol. We were kids. We were living on the wild and dangerous side of underage drinking but we were kids... We craved sugar, E numbers and       snogging.

Yesterday, with nostalgia weighing heavily in my heart, I went to my local 'Gastropub'  (I will not name names but it knows where it is) and ordered a 'Lager and lime' for old times sake.

the Albanian barman fed me a crusty look, sneered lazily at the dusty bottle shelf and then shaking his head tried to sell me a bottle of Sol with a lime fraction cramming the neck.

Readers. I declined.

Today I had better luck. I ventured into the Tabernacle bar in Powis Square W11, and, catching the eye of Mark Richardson, the head chef, enquired as to the likelihood of obtaining a Lager and lime.  'Pint?' Said Mark. One eyebrow raised. 'Pint'. I replied. Eyebrows levelled as if with a spirit level. Under the watchful eye of Christopher Scholey, the General Manager who is renowned for his uncanny knack of being where the action is, Mark proceeded to pour a silken strand of piss coloured beer into something resembling a vase finally topping it off with a handsome dollop of cordial.

What followed was truly cinematic. Beads of condensation, the tears of my youthful minds eye, trickled down the glass as it stood before me. I was Attenborough in Ice Cold in Alex, I was Crocodile Dundee. I was Kane face to face with rosebud. Et in Arcadia ego.

Looked better than it tasted though. Too sweet.

On the way home I decided that one Lager and lime does not make a swallow, popped into the offie, purchased 8 different varieties of lager and a bottle of cordial (not Roses though, they didn't have Roses in that bottle decorated with embossed dogrose of my youth). I completed my journalistic preparations with two sausage rolls and an apple strudel from the brilliant bread stall on Portobello.

Now.... 6 pints later I can confirm that, yes, indeed, lager and lime improves with quantity. I am however not improved by a gallon of fizzy beer. Reaching for a volume of Bukowski poetry at pint 5 was a mistake too. Oh where is that schoolgirl now, green bowlered and green tighted, who led me to the land of snog armed with nothing but an illicit under-age lagerandlime and a map of boundaries to be breached.

Anyone remember Rum and Black?

Carnival Comedy Club.

Here is another gem in the Tabernacle/Carnival Village calendar.

Comedy nights can often be painfully unfunny, there are too many mediocre or worse comedy events in London resulting in a lot of barrel scraping. Some modern comics seem to think that it is fine to mock the afflicted or just swear a lot and the job is done. None of this is the case with Carnival Comedy.

I had not been before and knew very little about it.

It was rammed, not an empty seat and many people standing. I sensed that the audience were old friends of the event and there was a carnival atmosphere. Organiser and compere Geoff Schumann is a natural performer and a very funny man who likes to involve his audience. If you are of a shy nature I recommend the seats in the shadows. The acts were consistently good, non insulting, happy people come to share their joy. Fridays full line up comprised of:

Felix Dexter
Maureen Younger
Auria Styla
Martin Wyatt
Wayne Rollins
Axel the entertainer
Variety D

Carnival Comedy Club is a regular feature at the Tabernacle with a strong line up of acts.I heartily recommend you check it out. Book tickets though to avoid disappointment

Carnival Village venues host a rich mix of entertainment – the familiar and the surprising – from music, dance, film, theatre and exhibitions to arts events and workshops throughout the year. All exhibitions and some events are free!

Carnival Village Favouritesinclude comedy’s coolest jesters, poetry, spoken word and talks from the wise and wordly, to Caribbean jazz, oral culture evenings and the London Calypso Tent music spectacular.

Carnival Season presents a multi-arts spotlight on the period around London’s biggest street event, whilst a festive satirical panto also caters for your best-loved traditions.. 


Full Carnival Village listings and calendar can be found at: http://www.carnivalvillage.org.uk/

Badly needed redevelopment of Portobello Road.

Earlier this month a scheme to develop a shitty little patch of Portobello Road was unveiled.

It concerns the patch of land that lies between the once infamous Cafe Ravenous at number 275 and the railway line. At present there exists a brick wall topped with security fencing capped with prison like spikes; an eyesore.

The proposal includes the creation of  10 new mews houses tucked away behind 2 new shops fronting onto the street. The Portobello facade is in total keeping with what already exists; there is no attempt at 'flashy' Purist arseing about, no Minimalist overkill and no threat. It simply places what should have always been there.

the Mews development is a different story; thoughtful, sensitive, modern, Eco-friendly and unobtrusive, utilising a strip of waste land.

The Architects, CHASSAY+LAST know Notting Hill well and it shows. The principals behind the scheme are locals. This is not a sharp suited 'smash and grab' raid on the neighbourhood by city developers. It does not herald an 'All Saints' type intrusion.

There will be some moaning minnies and detractors but the truth is that this little strip of Portobello needs sorting. K&C are throwing a shedload of money at the underused square opposite in an attempt to 'bring it up'. this proposal does nothing but add to the area.

Thumbs up.

Dark Dark Dark and Black Heart Procession.

I hadn't realised you could get that many ladders into a pair of pantyhose.

It feels like it was American vernacular music week at the Tabernacle after the Handsome Family on Tuesday and last night Dark Dark Dark and Black Heart Procession.

The Dark (I'm losing the will to repeat that word) are a Minneapolis based chamber folk sextet and to my mind moody rather than dark. An accordion featured heavily. All in all great  background music for people falling in or out of love but without any 'bang'  for the inbetweenies. The one female member was wearing those tights, I hope it was a fashion statement rather than the product of abject poverty.

During the interval I wandered out into a perfectly still dusk in the courtyard; full of birdsong and peace.

Black Heart Procession (2 guys, one piano, one saw (I kid you not)) are an 'Indie' curiosity from San Diego. I stayed for four numbers but the musical saw is not high on my list of pleasures; it smacks of 'parlour trick'. Not my bag so it would be unfair to say more than the band failed to capture me let alone induce Stockholm Syndrome.