My Bohemian life.

I went off with my hands in my torn coat pockets; My overcoat too was becoming ideal; I travelled beneath the sky, Muse! and I was your vassal; Oh dear me! what marvellous loves I dreamed of! My only pair of breeches had a big whole in them. – Stargazing Tom Thumb, I sowed rhymes along my way. My tavern was at the Sign of the Great Bear. – My stars in the sky rustled softly. And I listened to them, sitting on the road-sides On those pleasant September evenings while I felt drops Of dew on my forehead like vigorous wine; And while, rhyming among the fantastical shadows, I plucked like the strings of a lyre the elastics Of my tattered boots, one foot close to my heart! A. Rimbaud.

Retro, arrogance, Earl of Portobello and Friday nights.

A last minute decision to go to 'Retro' 50 Bosworth Road,W10 last night. 'Freak Elite', "The best band in Portobello" were a late addition to the line up there. It is a good little venue tucked away north of Golborne Road and worth checking out. As are the Freak brothers.

Marlene Dietrich did a turn which was a pleasure to watch. Turned out to be the 'Door Bitch' from the Cobden who barred me last year. We talked, all is forgiven, she tipped her hat at me, I tipped all my change into it. She was wonderfully entertaining. Her name is anka. Check her out too.

Here is a story: A cocky, arrogant, would be rock star who bitches about everyone while singing his own praises (he is old enough now to realise that he blew it years ago and is now a joke) asked me for a roll up. I said yes, offered the makings. He said: ' will you roll it for me. I said 'NO' . He then offered me his dope and asked again if I would roll him a joint. I said NO. He walked off. Arrogant little shit! HEY rock stars, heads up... I don't smoke dope. Why the fuck would I roll your spliffs in a public place to make your cock feel bigger. Roll your own a put a sock down your pants.

I moved on to the Earl of Portobello on Golborne for DJ Nyika's 'Soul Food'. The Earl is the last remaining pub on Golborne, recently re-opened and well worth visiting. It was Nyika's first night of an ongoing residency. Certainly on the Friday night circuit. Many, many familiar faces were there which is always a delight. Read about it HERE on the porto bello blog.

FEEN, Bumpkin Jam, Christina Tomlin and How to lay back in West London.

Every thursday for the next six weeks Wade Bayliss and his crew are operating BUMPKIN JAM at the Bumkin on Westbourne Park road. W11.  I popped in this week. got snagged to do the rock n roll poem with Wade, Patrick on immaculate bass and Wills on dustbins, great fun.

I jumped out to catch the Mangrove steelband rehearsal at the Tabernacle (well worth catching if you can. Mon - Thurs weekly until Carnival) then went back. Good thing too.

The attic at Bumpkin is a lovely little space, very laid back, boho, friendly and the perfect spot for this kind of curated open mic thing.

                                          Feen


A very high point was 'FEEN' a band I've not seen before but will look out for in future. I hope they come back. also on the bill were Charlotte Campbell and the amazing Christina Tomlin; god knows where she finds that voice and power.

the jam at the end was the perfect way to end an evening.

Very good indeed. See you there on Thursday.

The portobello Travel Bookshop is closed.

The film 'Notting Hill' made it famous, made it a tourist hot spot, filled it with camera happy sightseers with no interest in the books or the shop other than some sort of shrine to that tosser Grant and what's her name the american luvvie.

It wasn't even the shop used in the film. It isn't on Portobello Road, it is on Blenheim Crescent.

The tourists have killed the place. It is now closed until a buyer can be found to put some enthusiasm back into a very special local amenity.

The tourists should be asked to pay for photography or fuck off and photograph Hugh Grant's house. I can supply the address.

The Elgin, Sophie Barker and Aisling Mallon.

I haven't been to the Elgin on Ladbroke Grove for years. It used to be an awful shithole of a pub seemingly full of drug dealers and amateur villains. It isn't any more.

I went to see and listen to Sophie who was performing there last night. She was as good as ever. Her voice never ceases to enrapt me. I shall refrain from going on at length to avoid being considered a purveyor of cheesecake. Do try to get to one of her gigs though and check out her new album 'Seagull'.

Sophie Barker

the Elgin has been tarted up and smartened up. It was buzzing last night and good to see a lot of familiar faces. It was especially delightful to chat with actress Aisling Mallon. she had taken part in the 'Actor in Session' Cherry Orchard experiment (blog passim) last week and had caught my attention as one of the more interesting actors. We shared thoughts on the experiment.

                                                  Aisling Mallon

One negative was the lousy sound in the Elgin, something that could be easily rectified by investing in a new P.A. system.

Sophie Barker: http://www.sophiebarker.com/

The Elgin: http://www.geronimo-inns.co.uk/theelgin/

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.

Please support Mangrove Steelband.

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.

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.

Drum, Albino Boa and pink chair.