Romantica

It's been a tough few months.  But the return to a radio show I did years ago has been very positive. And a great way of introducing an arts concept that very few will realise was one! Maverick this year is to be about nostalgia and reminiscence and Romantica was just that, with a lovely bunch of people sending in stories that, in some cases, had never been repeated before. On the first of two nights some of the feedback was tearful and very emotional. But it's great. It's what makes us human.

Students are revolting...

And to prove it...

Happy New Year!

Chiswick House and Gardens

A Detour On The Way Back From The Post Office

And Wow!  What a detour.  I was on my bike and dropped a parcel off at the Post Office at the top of Chiswick High Road.  Having a half hour to kill, I thought I'd take a slightly different route home and this is what I came across.  I'm blessed that even at my age I'm still surprised at what London can come up with.  These are snapshots taken with my phone, but all taken 20 mins from our flat.  You should try a detour from a daily route  and post the photographs here.  I'd love to see what you come up with.

Chiswick House.  Available for weddings apparently!

This is the view from the gate I entered.

And the view from a little further back.

Swinging down past Chiswick Mall, this is a public right of way to the River Thames.

Is this little cottage in Stratford-upon-Avon? Nope.  Chiswick again.

Groovy sign to the river 'right of way'.

The view toward Hammersmith Bridge

People live on this.  I can't blame them!

Look the other way from the boat and this is St Nicholas' Church.  Many famous folk rest here.

A house in St Peter's Square, Hammersmith.  Our flat is just round the corner.

Groovy baby!

Southwold my Southwold

These blogs seem less... I don't know... relalvant with Twitter and Facebook and a brilliant little programme which is almost perfect called Momento which I downloaded onto my i-phone.  It's a great little diary app although there are a few problems - you can export the text but not photo's and the text when exported is full of code.  But it's a great way to make notes on the go and will provide a record of life for years to come.

I could write about Hancock and how that went.  Quite well thank you.  But I'm in Southwold with my partner who is performing in Abigails Party in a week or so.. And its a great place, stuck in the past somewhat!

Time for a picture from the pier I think.  And maybe more later. Now where is that bucket, spade and raincoat...

That's Very Nearly Three Months-full!

Well I've been a busy boy.  Dealing with a friend's cancer and setting up a middle/large scale theatre tour at the same time has proved challenging to say the least, which is why I've not really had a chance to come on here since March.
Thankfully friend has recovered completely apart from her regular check ups and the Hancock's Finest Hour tour, although incredibly difficult financially, seems to just about be holding its own.
So I shall be back later methinks.  And if you live near the Georgian Theatre Royal in Richmond North Yorkshire, or the Middlesborough Theatre in.. er... Middlesborough, then come and say hello in the next few weeks

Ere, ere! Vincent Van Gogh – just one of us really.

I went to the Van Gogh bash at the Royal Academy of Arts last week.  There’s so much else going on at the moment I arrived sort of testy, especially when it turned out there had been a power cut for 4 hours and they were only just thinking of opening when I arrived.  My pre-paid 3pm ticket may have only cost me about £4 (plus booking fees – how ridiculous!) but the place was unpleasantly packed.  It was a disappointment, especially after my rock 'n' roll tour of Amsterdam with The Arrow where rather than explore the red light district I excused myself and visited the Reich Museum and the Van Gogh Museum.  My colleagues kindly decided to ignore this behaviour and, I think, in spite of my Rock Credentials put it down to age!

So, to this exhibition.  It confirmed what I’ve always thought and admired about Van Gogh.  He was a bloke like us who had a number of careers but when he decided he wanted to paint, he just went for it.  He wasn’t very good when he started, but he had heroes, people he looked up to and he just decided he was going to try to be a painter – an artist – and his big ambition in the early days was just to try and make a living.  He had his equivalent of the Arts Council as well, his younger brother Theo, whose financial contribution allowed Vincent to stick at it.  And although tragically Vincent died without any real recognition, you have to say the boy done good.  Packing out – and I mean packing – the Royal Academy of Arts.

                       This says it all really, about being an artist.  (Although I didn't photo the letter sketch.)

Happy New... oh yes, a bit late for that.

It's been a busy and fairly tough financial start to the new year.  I didn't really have time to write last month.  Since leaving Uni I've been spending a lot of time looking for part-time work and trying to get things ready for my new production company and as always, everything is many times more difficult and time consuming when you have no dosh.  But I'm almost ready to start my new life.  Sort of.  Well, new career anyway.  It's taken 50 years, but I now have some sort of focus on what I intend to do professionally.  And I'm fortunate in that so far some very successful people in the industry seem to think I am going to do okay.  One or two have even tipped me as a 'rising star'. Heh! 

But the reality at the moment is that the difficult financial situation has meant I have discovered southern dole offices, too.  Posher than Kings Heath, Birmingham, although my London 'office'  is a newer building! I get the impression that there's a bit more care and help available than last time I had to sign on.  In the early 1990's I think we were just dole scum.  Now the Labour Govt seems to really want to help. Things are much better now. There are still rules, but in the past you were either on the dole or not.  It was unhelpfully black or white. You felt a bit like a hopeless scrounger. Now, although it's actually tougher to get help initially and they ask more questions, they've even accepted that I have to spend time to prepare for a new business and they have been offering help and referrals.  I get annoyed by people who seem to think benefits are some sort of easy way out. Try living on £65 per week.  It stops you starving, sure, but its not really going to give anyone a lifestyle after bills are paid. There are always those that will abuse any system, but I think social benefits, like the arts, are a mark of a civilised society and I for one feel better for being part of that.  Plus, with the eye-watering amounts of tax I paid in the 1980's, I would need many centuries of claiming £65 per week to break even! I suppose the key word about National Insurance is that it's, well... insurance. 

There are some benefits to being very poor again. I cycle to sign on, which is as it should be, and actually gives me some exercise. And it has forced me to find cheaper stuff in London.  Not an easy task in leafy Chiswick. I go to my exclusive show biz club and drink tap water (served in posh jugs with ice and lemon), use the free wi-fi and finish with a coffee.  A whole days work for £2.95.  Then down the road in Turnham Green, if you get fed up of home made food,  you can eat a massive plate of Chicken and Black Bean Noodles and a mug of Chinese tea for under a fiver.  Now that's living!

 

That's living!  All this for under a fiver in Chiswick.

This theatre thang has never been about the money but believe me when I say I am hugely looking forward to the day when I can afford a holiday again.  But in one way I am truly blessed.  I have a plan. I am in an industry that is starting to notice what I do.  It might not work out exactly as I want, but at least I have some hope, ambition and direction. I feel desperately sorry for those others who are suffering as a result of this current economic climate and can see little hope at all.