Premium Non Drop

P1070022I can’t help it, West London brings out the capitals in CWS: It’s the second time in almost as many weeks I’ve had to do this with a title. But then Pines and Needles is yet another example of this part of the world keeping it real – and in the family as it were.

Most of the year on the corner of Shirland road a stalwart of a dry cleaners can be found, but in December something magical happens.  A vertitable forest of fragrant pine trees appear, men in kilts run about the place – up and down ladders, hoisting trees over their shoulders, carrying them from the rooftop storage, and purveying them to anyone with the romance of a traditional Christmas still in their hearts.

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‘Tis the season

P1060936It’s become a tradition now with my old chum E and I – a red cup Gingerbread Latte at any given Starbucks pre Christmas, and this year we were at E’s local deep in the heart of the City of London.

My exuberance for this event has me leaping out of bed – not easy when one is unused to the hideousness that is the London rush hour.

“It’s okay for you corporate worker bees” I said to E in the queue, “You do this every day.”
“Excuse me S, I prefer to refer to myself as an engineer of the capitalist revolution – although I’m not quite sure how relevant that is anymore.”
“What a great term E! I’d write it down but I can’t find my pen.”
“Digital revolution S? Remember that?  Put it in your ‘phone!”

Behind us was a long line of sombre faced workers.  My efforts at snapping some sparkly pics were not going down well.  Meerkat type looks sidelonged me; these were people thirsty for their first fix of the day.  E was fidgety and looked embarrassed as he placed the order.  “Don’t forget my Starbucks name E – Bruschetta!!”

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Home is a Disco Ball

P1060996Serena Morton’s disco party is deserving of capitals.

I arrived at her gallery in deepest and on this occasion, coolest West London, late – to find most guests had just vanished to the after party.  (I couldn’t help it. I’d been to the Irish Embassy for something – anything – and one does not like to leave the Ambassador early).  One of the security guards offered me a quick look around before locking up.

P1060948I knew it would be right up Conversation with Strangers’ street.  Disco.  Just that word is evocative of fun, decadence, good times and the inevitable classic tunes.  I looked at the photos on display taken by Bill Bernstein to celebrate his book launch. I was there. I could feel the energy, the eccentricity and that feeling of being with like minded souls.

A gold lurex clad dame approached me.  “Hi, I’m Serena.  Would you like a lift to the party?”  I hopped into a blacked-out-windowed vehicle and met others of her entourage:  Long haired polite pretty girls who welcomed me enthusiastically.

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Singing, in the main

AllSing1511 (2)Every year at Maida Hill market around this time, the Mayor of Westminster comes down along with the local MP and a few other VIPs to switch on the Christmas tree lights. It’s a relatively new tradition that our community choir All Sing! is delighted to accompany with a few jolly carols – and anything else we’ve managed to learn during the term.

A merry buzz of anticipation grew amongst my fellow choral members as we gathered around the base of the tree.  Hats and gloves warded off the cold as J cranked up the keyboard and we got to grips with the carol sheets.

I glanced at it.  ‘Away in a Manger’ was first.  “Have you got a spare one of those” a bundled up gentleman asked me. I explained that we only had enough to go around the choir itself.  “Never mind” he said.  “It’s nice we’re going to hear some singing – festive and all that.”

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I’ve started so I’ll finish

P1060850.jpg“I’ll totally understand if you want to bail” came the text from choir friend Kate.  “No” I wrote back, “I said I’ll come and I will – no matter about the three hours sleep, I’m up now!”

P1060863.jpgP1060864.jpgThe event for which I could not resist supporting my singing chum was the Men’s Health Survival of the Fittest at Wembley – apparently the world’s ‘biggest urban obstacle course race’.  Three wicking outfitted gals and me headed to a venue where if memory serves I last visited for a Madonna gig.

This was somewhat different. A biting wind greeted us as we left the station and tried to find the start line.  Pumping music led us to it.

P1060872.jpgKeith – a feisty sounding scotsman – yelled on the mike to a male participant: “WHAT WORD IS GOING TO GET YOU THROUGH THE DARK TIMES AHEAD TODAY MATE?  AND, TRUST ME THERE WILL BE LOTS OF THEM!!”
“WOMEN!” his interviewee yelled back with equal force.

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