Pre-Pentimento

Wednesday, 3 August 2011

Summer passion and scented things.

The Muses garden in full bloom.

A chance photo op on leaving the Cow last night. I've forgotten what the scent was.

Update: Thanks to an anonymous tip off I now know that it is vanilla.

Tuesday, 2 August 2011

Please support Mangrove Steelband.

Monday, 1 August 2011

The Cow, Amy Winehouse, parquet flooring and Amie Martin.

Amie Martin & reclaimed parquet.

I shouldn't have done but I did. At the end of a hot day I went to the Cow for a beer and scotch quails egg. All good so far. the beer was wet and the egg perfect

I picked up a copy of ok magazine. I wish I hadn't. Poor Amy Winehouse.

I overheard the following: "Nothing says I've arrived like reclaimed parquet flooring".

Amie Martin said that... And she is spot on.

Nothing says I've arrived better than a photo of reclaimed parquet flooring arriving in your mailbox.

I know which one frightens me.

Sunday, 31 July 2011

Actor in Session. The Cherry Orchard at the Tabernacle.

Acting in Session run weekly acting classes at the Tabernacle W11, St Peter's Hall W11 & the 20th Century Theatre W11. Under the direction of Christopher Obi; a passionate man about theatre if I am any judge. I've sat in on rehearsals before and was invited to attend today's 'Exercise'; A production of chekov's Cherry Orchard.

I was pleasantly surprised by what the group produced after just 12 weeks. Chekov is not the easiest of playrights and From experience can attest to the fact that Cherry Orchard can be more difficult than most.

It was an interesting exercise made slightly confusing by mid play cast changes, but I got the hang of it.

If you are looking for some acting classes in West London Actor in Session would be worth checking out. Website: http://actorinsession.com/

The Eyes of Jarvis Trench

This story first appeared here: http://meandmybigmouth.typepad.com/scottpack/2011/06/guest-blogger-tristan-hazell.html

The Eyes of Jarvis Trench

I called at the house to view the motor bike. It was a 1967 Triumph Tiger Cub. I had owned a similar bike in my teens and fancied that it would make a project for the winter.

I was early. Mrs Trench answered the door in a flustered state but ushered me inside and led me to the living room. “You will have to excuse me,” she said. “You are early and it is time for my therapy but it won’t take long. Can I get you a cup of tea?”

The filth that surrounded her encouraged me to decline the offer. “No thank you,” I said.

She offered me a chair. I sat and looked about the room. It was littered with orange coloured objects I first took for balloons. I soon realised they were football bladders. There were perhaps 20 of them; each one sported a number of puncture repair patches. The patches on each bladder occupied positions on the same latitude. If they had been globes I would have estimated that they were on a line occupied by Stockholm. The patches circled the bladders. There were a number of deflated footballs, the old fashioned ‘lace up’ variety, and two or three repair kits. A professional-looking pump stood beside the chair she sat down in.

“Won’t take long,” she repeated as she took up one of the footballs and a bladder. There was an image painted on the ball but I was unable to make it out. She slowly and carefully fed the bladder into the ball, took the nozzle of the pump and inserted it into the bladder. With her right hand she worked the pump while steadying the ball with her left and her knees. As the ball inflated I saw that the leather was painted with a likeness of a man. He had bright blue eyes. She looked at me as the ball became tight and said, “I used to do the lacing once but don’t feel the need anymore.”

Gripping the ball between her thighs she took up two long needles then carefully and simultaneously forced a spike into each pupil.

As the needles entered she intoned the words: What are you looking at now, Jarvis Trench? She removed the weapons and laid the sighing ball on the floor beside the chair.

“The motorbike,” she said as she rose and I followed suit. “It is in the shed, it is not locked. Why don’t you go and take a look? It ain’t been used much. My husband only rode it to and from his camera club and he ain’t done that since the day he left his darkroom unlocked.”

Galicia, Pizza East Portobello; The thin end of the wedge.

A splendid afternoon yesterday spent at Galicia on the Portobello Road. The restaurant closes forAugust leaving some of the locals in a state of panic and despair; there is nowhere quite like Galicia.

Across the road is the recently opened Pizza East, part of the Soho House fast food chain. It is a very pricey cheese on toast shop with ear splitting acoustics guaranteed to maintain a fast turnover of tables. The discount key ring thing is interesting. Many people believe this place to be the thin end of the wedge as far as Golborne goes.

Pizza East, aware of this too, have used the wedge in their branding. I cannot decide if it is ironic or just plain stupid.

Friday, 29 July 2011

Drum, Albino Boa and pink chair.

Save Portobello Market benefit at the Pop up Cinema.

Last nights benefit featured a screening of 'Stall Stories' a short film made by Colville School pupils and featuring some of the stalwarts of the market.

An entertaining little film.

Passport to Pimlico was screened later but I passed on that preferring the Mangrove Steel pan rehearsals at the Tabernacle.