Category: London

Legacy

On By Conversations with StrangersIn Entertainment, London, Music, People you may have heard ofLeave a comment

P1010852I walked home. I like doing that sometimes in London after a night out.  Tonight was special:  Balmy and still in my shorts, I marvelled that summer really was here.

‘There’s no place quite like this country at this time of the year’ Mick said to the Hyde Park crowd half way into the Stones’ gig.  And he should know, he’s 70 this week and he’s been around.  ‘Was anyone else here in 1969 for the last one?’ he shouted.  A gentle roar went up from the crush that was front of the park stage for the first time in 44 years to see them in their altogether. ‘Well, welcome back, nice to see you again!’  A delicate touch Mick – but then this was full of delicate touches and so subtle that you didn’t even realise you were there, witnessing what you were witnessing.  ‘I’m loving this set they’ve given us’ he continued.  ‘It’s like a cross between Wimbledon and a pantomime.

Last night at leaving drinks, I checked the Juanometer.  ‘Do you think we should get there for 12pm when the gates open, or leave it until a bit later – like 5pm? I know you’re going to have the right solution – you always do’ I said to my soon to be ex-colleague just departing to explore other territories and work opportunities. ‘Well, how much do you like them?  If you really love them, then yes, you need to be there at 12.  For me personally if Coldplay were performing I’d be there before the gates opened’.  I thought about that.  ‘You’re right as usual.  I do like the Stones, but you’ve given me the answer’.

I texted Foxy.  ‘It’s going to be scorchio tomorrow, let’s meet at 4?’  She agreed and it was settled.

As usual on an outing of this nature and significance, Foxy and I try to get a decent view.  ‘Just keep walking.’ I said as we immersed ourselves in a crowd where the average age was 50 and remants of the 60’s were all around us in one form or another.  ‘Where are people getting all this beer?  I think I’d better go and look for food and drink before things start getting serious’.

Heading backwards into the fray again I found myself perusing the food stalls.  Queues were aplenty and the beer tents were at least 20 people deep in front.  I headed back to the main gate and fought my way to the bar to get a couple of drinks.  Armed with those I queued for food – and half an hour later found myself with two haloumi foccacias in hand ready to find my friend again.

Back at the main stage, the crowd had shifted forward.  The sun was beginning to set and the familiar chords of ‘Start me up’ blasted out.

There are no words really.  Well, maybe a few:  Brilliant, professional, slick.  But the main one is ‘innate’.  Seeing The Stones is not like seeing any other band.  Viewing them like another would be to deny what really is pure DNA – for both them and us.  The songs and this band are in your blood, an intrinsic feature of the landscape that is your life.  Seeing them made flesh as it were, in front of your very eyes, is believing but unbelievable at the same time.

When the unmistakeable first few notes of ‘Satisfaction’ rang out in the encore, Keith smiled his white rakish grin, Mick continued to prance around in his gold lame shirt singing without a note out of place, Ronnie showed us what muscles were made of, and Charlie – steadfast Charlie – delivered the drums.  Just as it should be, just as we know it is. P1010848

Snow

On By Conversations with StrangersIn LondonLeave a comment

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Bloody typical:  “This bus is on diversion”, a few flakes of snow and the whole country grinds to a halt – we’ve only known it’s coming for the past month!  They should send these blokes to Switzerland to learn how to drive in the snow – they’re up and down mountains and through snowdrifts every day over there!’  ‘Oh they’d love that wouldn’t they’ I replied to my bus journey companion and then asked ‘What do you think of my new snowboots?  I’m feeling particularly smug today given that I just got them in the sale yesterday!’  ‘Very nice’, he replied. ‘I worked on building sites for 30 years – I know all about keeping your feet warm. Of course we couldn’t really get warm in those steel capped boots, didn’t matter how many pairs of socks you put on.  I mean if your feet, your hands and your head are cold – that’s it, you’re finished’.

I marched down a snowy street to work with no problem in my waterproof, ice pick soled, fur lined boots.  ‘There’s no gritting anywhere on this street, can you believe it?’ said my colleague, as I walked through the door.  ‘We knew it was coming – ridiculous!’

A customer called:  ‘I need a really warm jumper, have you got that one that was in Tatler last November – you know – the one with Harry on the front?’ ‘Not anymore’ I replied, ‘How’s the snow where you are?’ ‘Ooooh, we’re snowed in here in the Cotswolds, can’t get to my shop in Cheltenham. My son came to pick me up in his 4 x 4 but he got stuck!  Can you believe it – in a 4 x 4!’

At lunchtime I eyed up the chorizo in the supermarket.  Hmmmm, a nice cassoulet I thought, a few chickpeas some garlic and what else?  I reached the checkout – trolley fully laden.  My phone rang ‘Where are you?’ said Oncle.  ‘I’m in Waitrose panic buying – I didn’t want to feel left out’. We chuckled, ‘Well I’m not heading home – I’m completely snowed in there, no flights going out and the car clocking up the euros in the car park.  I’d like to make a stew but there isn’t a saucepan big enough here – do you think I should risk heading into John Lewis to get one?’

The cashier rang the cans of soups and everything else in.  I noticed a lady at the till next to me with a huge packet of minced beef.  ‘I’m stockpiling’ I said.  ‘Yes, I’m going to make a huge big lot of Spaghetti Bolognese this evening – can’t wait! She replied.

We shut up shop early.  One or two after work warming drinks later I stepped out of a taxi onto crisp snow with all my bounty.  A group of friends walked past throwing snowballs, laughing.  I marvelled at the imprint of my new snowboots, the picturesque scene and headed inside to hunker down.

Encore en fois – X trois

On By Conversations with StrangersIn London, Music2 Comments

The energy and passion of Bob is hard to beat.  In such auspicious surroundings I wondered what the night would bring.  ‘I’m gonna play you some tunes from 36 years ago, 15 years ago, five years ago and last month’.  He shouted out to the reverent audience – a home crowd of the sort that didn’t just hail from the locality – London – but from those who appreciate a bit of eloquence, wit and substance with their music.

The gig progressed … and progressed. Bob, or should I say Sir Bob, was having so much fun – it was infectious.  Pete was on bass and the harmonising in the band was a beautiful thing.  Rat Trap brought the house down – everyone on their feet dancing, literally in the aisles. He told us what had inspired ‘Banana Republic’ and it almost brought a tear to my eye reminding me of the country I grew up in that I love so much.

I think it was in the second encore that Bob introduced a special guest from the original Boomtown Rats – none other than Gerry Cott. When I complimented Gerry later on the ease and professionalism with which he had taken the stage he told me that he hadn’t played for 30 years.  Sunglasses intact, with even a bit of rocking out of the old skool variety – he joined a band that were a class act.

After a rousing third encore my friends departed and I found myself at the afterparty wedged in next to the wall and a couple I had spotted earlier.  J told me he was a friend and indeed onetime pupil of Bob’s drummer – ‘Oh yes, he’s by far the best looking in the band’ I exclaimed.  ‘That’s my boyfriend!’ Carly said.  We laughed as I noticed a familiar face in the crowd.  Given that Bill Wyman and Roger Taylor were there I was reluctant to make the fatal error of introducing myself to said face in case he actually was ‘somebody’ rather than a blast from my past.  ‘What do you think I should do, J?’ ‘Go for it – he’s coming this way – look!’

‘We know each other, don’t we?!  I think you were in a band with my friend’s boyfriend, Andy once?’  ‘Um, no, I don’t think so, but I can be if you want me to!’  He turned to J: ‘Was Roger Taylor here tonight?  He was, wasn’t he? I don’t believe it – I was sitting right next to him all night and I didn’t recognise him’.  ‘He’s still here’ J replied – ‘I think I just saw him go up the stairs’.  ‘C’mon’ said my new acquaintance Rob’. 

No sign of Roger. Outside, as Rob rolled up a cigarette, Bill appeared.  ‘I don’t believe it, it’s Bill Wyman, I’ve gotta get an autograph!’  Rob pulled out his Live Aid book and rushed over. I offered to take a photo:  Bill was the perfect gent and acquiesced.

We went back inside.  ‘Has anyone seen Roger Taylor?’ Rob called out to no one in particular. ‘I can’t believe I missed him!’ He introduced me to his friend Hamish and we talked GoGo music and Chuck Brown; it brought me right back to Washington DC days.

‘I’d like to say thanks to the main man’ I said, ‘Then, I’ve got to go’.  Sir B was surrounded by people, looking dapper in peaked cap and a double breasted jacket with a nod to the nautical.  Our eyes met briefly whereupon I expressed my delight at the gig and told him my friend G had invited me. ‘You mean G has friends?!’ he exclaimed in resonant deep Irish tones, smiling. I smiled back and turned to find Rob surrounded by people and chatting to an ex girlfriend of Pete Doherty’s. ‘Was you before Kate Moss, or after her?’ he asked undiplomatically.  She turned on her heel as I called after her: ‘Don’t mind him! Let me take a picture of you with Bob’.  She kissed him on the cheek as I pointed and shooted and then she was off with a swish of her long blonde locks.

I said goodnight to Hamish, Rob, J, Jim and Carly and despite stepping out into a rainy autumnal night, felt inspired and energised as only you can when humanity, warmth and passion are to the fore. 

The quest for fruit

On By Conversations with StrangersIn London, PartiesLeave a comment

Truly glamorous parties where care and attention is taken to ensure a perfect venue, a theme and whatever libation your heart desires all night long are rare, and when the opportunity arises must be embraced for the maximum enjoyment that such generosity affords.

As I walked in and noticed the grand spiral staircase, I realised I’d been here before but not for some years.  A myriad of rooms followed with Prosecco and gin gimlet bars, hog roast, other delectables and waiters dressed as Bavarians.

I met V at the bar.  We chatted. He offered me a cigarette. ‘I haven’t been out for months, this is a big night for me, and I’ve got to do the Ideal Home Show in the morning’.  I sympathised as a gentleman in Lederhose and hat sporting a feather topped up my glass. I looked around the room to see if there was anyone else I knew.

Black tie and blazers for the men and in some cases the girls too.  The occasional flash of old-school Hollywood glamour by way of a floor length bias cut mink gown or a shimmering silver one.  My gold dress and purple snakeskin heels longed for some more company and I set out to find it.

‘Just go for it’ said N pointing to the mounds of Globe and Jerusalem artichokes at the vegetable bar.  Next to these a vibrant plate of seaweed nestled, surrounded by platters of baby radishes and carrots with stalks intact, stacks of peppers, white asparagus and any other hard to get legume you could imagine.

My purple shoes ascended the staircase carefully and entered the large drawing room packed to the rafters with smokers – cheroots, cigarettes and cigars.  V appeared again and offered me another.  ‘What are these though V?’ I asked, peering at the packet and trying to decipher the obscure brand.  He shrugged pointing out that he only had two left and wanted me to have one. I was touched.

Perky introduced me to Flo. We talked about life and love and how the latter was as hard to find as a red orange. ‘And, don’t forget when you do – there might be other problems’.

The dance floor beckoned.  On my way there I ran into an ex and his beautiful Russian girlfriend. ‘She tried to break up with me tonight – I had to really persuade her to come’.  ‘Oh! Flowers?’ I said.  She looked a bit sad, ‘He’s never given me flowers’. ‘I bet he will one day’ I replied, smiling.

At 12.30am, mindful of a full Saturday ahead, I decided it was time to go. ‘How was your evening?’ the coat check girl asked. ‘Fabulous’ I replied.  ‘It had everything – but the quest for red oranges remains’.

Just dance..

On By Conversations with StrangersIn Life, London, PartiesLeave a comment

Last night saw a trip down memory lane courtesy of Mahiki.  Out celebrating a friend’s birthday in the vip area the treasure chest cocktails kept coming – complete with sparklers and an entourage who turned the razzamatazz on for the punters.

‘Jeez, it’s like someone gave the kids the run of the bar and they made the cocktails.  Where are we – on a cruise ship?!’ Pinky said, as I tried to manoeuvre the straw past the flowers and pineapples to find the liquid Hawaiian tropic beneath. ‘Don’t mix your drinks’ he added as I sipped the champagne next to it and wondered when I might start on the vodka martini.

The noise ratcheted up.  The 80s tunes rang out. I headed to the DJ booth: ‘Any chance of some Michael please?’ I asked.  ‘Nah, we don’t play the music of dead people’ he replied.

I headed back, suitably chastened and crossed the ropes.  A’ boy band’ – all in white shirts with evidence of serious hair product, had arrived and an endless stream of girls appeared to have photos taken.  ‘What are you called?’ I shouted over the din.  ‘The Graduates’ he shouted back as he turned to pose with his fellow mates.

I headed to the Ladies. 18 year olds abounded in six inch heels and dazzling dresses.  Hair was everywhere and the conversation was no holds barred:  ‘Yah, well she’s a bitch alright – I told you that.  Like, totally’. ‘Anyway, her Dad’s gonna get her the white Mercedes – do you know the one I mean? Like, Gaaaad I wish I’d worn my other shoes!’

In our exclusive zone, the party was reaching a crescendo. Lady Gaga blasted out: ‘Just dance..it’ll be okay’. And everyone did.   ‘You’re not really a boy band, are you?’ I persisted. ‘Well, no but we are choreographers – in fact he’s on Strictly tomorrow night’ he replied pointing at a young boy drinking out of a large pineapple, surrounded by screaming girls. ‘And, yeah we like, teach the X Factor contestants how to dance – we help them’.  ‘Oh!’ I said. So, you’re sort of X Factor mentors?’   ‘Yeah’, he replied. ‘I like that. Yeah, that’s what we are’

We made our way past the ropes, and now bouncers, and out into Mahiki proper.  Carnage reigned. A girl sat alone, head in hands bowed over the table, hair asunder.  Two boys in tight t shirts looked on amused.  People were falling into each other, some were kissing. Sparklers were everywhere.

Was this my Stringfellows, my Wag Club, my Funkin’ Pussy, my Rhinodrome, my Timepiece?  The names are hazy now but at 4am as the beginnings of a hangover started working its magic, I looked around and it struck me, reassuringly, that nothing had really changed at all – just the price.