28 April - Latin & Cows

Research on events you want to attend is futile sometimes. If something gets billed as a talk by Toby Young about the decline of grammar/latin in schools, you sort of imagine there will be some hilarity. So you invite a couple of friends to the Idler academy.

However, I should have paid more attention to the 'talk' word. Which can mean lecture. And it was. A lecture about why he has started a free comprehensive in Hammersmith with a short Q&A after. I care about schools but since I don't have children, I care a lot less. I imagine it's almost impossible now to reverse the damage done by handing out GCSE's by the armful to kits who can't write and am not talking about split infinitives, god knows some of those escape my watchful eye often enough when I write (they don't if I bother to edit/re-read but sometime I'm too pushed for time). But it was mildly interesting at the end when some kid from a comprehensive in Holland park called Heathcote (! a very common name in parts of Essex i think) tried to argue a point vs Mr Young and was silenced. There was also interesting input from an English teacher who had taught in France where they still do it by rote instead of encouraging 'creative thinking'. I also learnt a lot by rote and I think you should. Learn the thing/methods and smash them up later, but in the meantime you're also employable above the level of moron.

None of this however interested my friend D who had arrived for the 7pm event having done a line. This was because she was going to have a drink at 8pm with a male friend she's nervous about ie. a date situation and she had got the powder because they were going to a gig afterwards. A vodka and tonic clearly is not enough to steady nerves. And so she braved 40 mins of the 'talk' before escaping - she needed the loo. Yes, of course. D also knew that the previous week at the Idler had been a big of a wash out (Anne Pigalle). I was going to lie about it but D said that daughter of friend had attended and said it was pants. What's the chance of that? I mean, there were 8 of us total in the audience!

After the talk, Toph was meeting friends at The Cow and so was I. I never ever go there for a drink, far too crowded, but on this occasion I walk in and there is Toph and his possee, two tables away is D with her date. I go upstairs where Angolan queen is having dinner with son and they're the only table apart from one where RF, musician I worked with is on a date! I practically knew the whole pub!

Angolan queen's son works in talent in advertising. He's 28 and earns 50k which is massively more than his mother. She's proud of that. He said something very sweet about me and I quote 'I have to deal with so many mad people looking for work, some of them are old but when confronted with some mad creative woman in her 50's with blue hair and funky glasses, I can deal with her because of knowing mum's friends, like you'.

How sweet is that? Sigh.... and no, I abhor blue hair and funky advertising glasses so rest assured he just meant his mothers' mates are mad. Sigh....... I got my revenge by stirring the conversation to discussing how men often pick girlfriends who have more than one aspect in common with their own mothers. After some searching he had to agree that his long term fiancee' is similar to his mum for x, y, z reasons. There you go. Go home and have sex now. But I love him really, very proud of him too.

9 April - More & Too Much

Gosh, am mad. My fear of dying is such that I fill every gap. I seem to have booked wim wenders/pina bausch film, the play with the geezer from Lost, can't even remember title of play, Fela Kuti's son's, Seun's gig, going to some stuff at the Idler Acad, and got given Kylie tix for Monday and don't want to go, and much more and all the time I say I just want to stay in!!!! aaaarggghhhhhhh Yesterday I ditched crossing London to see a friend of a friend's exhibition where other friends were going to meet, so I re-arranges seeing one of them this morning as she leaves the country this afternoon.

Then of course I got up and my suggestion of 'So I'll come to you and then will ride the tube/train to airport and chat and then I can read a novel on the way back' was changed to a phone appointment where we'll talk after you've checked in and will be sat with a glass of wine near departure lounge. Face to face is overrated right.

In the meantime we also dealt with the disappearance of friend I. who spoke to her at 5.30 making arrangements for the same exhibition and night out to follow and then never turned up or answered messages/texts. By this morning various friends were on the case (it's not like him not to just let you know he's gone and done something else instead) including a visit to knock on his door. No reply. Turned out that when the man turned up before he set off for the exhibit/party, he walked off with I's phone by mistake and left his. I's phone had little or no juice in it so it took him a while to recover it. Strange story but must be true. However, we, the friends, all confessed to each other that we had been very worried since I. drinks too much, does other stuff too much and at his age, we all thought 'Oh no, heart attack???' So, phew, no worries.

4th July - The Rake

I went to see the dress rehearsal of The Rake’s Progress at ROH courtesy of a (new) acquaintance, BL, a former actress in Spanish sitcoms (by way of a friend who’s her new beau) who’s assistant to the director, Robert Lepage (you must know who he is surely? They don’t come bigger than him) . And isn’t it funny that I only know one other opera person and when I texted her to tell her I was with BL, she texted back ‘I know her, I was singing with her (ex) boyfriend when they first met’. How many degrees is this one?

The Rake was well impressive, but it’s Stravinsky so no melodies stick.. but mad set up, very good/entertaining, beautifully sang and Toph filled me in on how revered the conductor, Thomas Ades, is… himself a fan /collaborator of Simon Rattle.

The following night we went to BL’s housewarming party, since she’s moved out of the ex’s. This was in a small flat (but belongs to Fiona Shaw – am I namedropping enough for one post?). It was a regular little party with about a dozen people when we arrived and twenty at the most throughout the couple of hours we were there. Mostly chatting to our friend who was feeling a little fragile as the girl had invited her ex (well known tenor) and though it was clear he wouldn’t turn up (the split is fresh) it made him a bit nervous. So I get introduced to this guy, Charlie, short, American accent… A few minutes later Toph says ‘Don’t you recognise him?’ and I said ‘Oh god it’s him, it’s the tenor from last night!!’ But in jeans and a jacket he looks like anyone. Anyway I had to give him a hug by way that I’d never met a tenor, only pop musicians, and was mighty impressed. Turns out it took him a mere 3 weeks to learn his part. Incredible. But the best bit was that we were dancing around to an ipod and the Bee Gees came on and Charlie was singing along with us, to Staying Alive. In a high pitched voice of course. And he quite liked his James Brown and Prince.

Then he told me to close the door to the garden as he was worried about his throat ( premiere was last night), and that he more or less knows what his diary is like for the next five years (except force majeure), which to me is extraordinary.

Soooo a little later Thomas Ades comes in, and then Robert Lepage himself, in a leather jacket, possibly sporting a wig. Mad! God knows who the others were, but looked all like classical musicians…I was tempted to go talk to them but it was one of those ones where the others there could probably really do with the one to one access to their gods and any exchanges would have been sort of lost if they had to talk to me. Yes, am aware of my pecking order and in that world I’m less than an amateur spectator.

5 August - Architecture & Design

Was leafing through American Design and Architecture magazine full of incredible buildings – mostly museums and hotels and offices – I mean, mere mortals cannot compete with houses who have a similar breath-taking factor. I’d be the first to ask Oscar Niedermeyer to do my new house but why would he use his time on a house when he can design a church or an airport. Anyway, I realise I know no names and nothing much about this world (ok Schrager, Pawson, Stark and so on but that’s just like saying you know who Marco Pierre White is, not like saying you now his equivalent in Canada or Japan, or indeed who's hot on their heels). For example there’s an article about a Matteo Thun who’s 55 and an associate of Ettore Sottsas. Know who that is but never heard of Thun and yet he’s re-branded Illy and Campari to name just two. I wonder why I’ m not into Art and Architecture. I do have friends who salivate over these mags and I don’t buy them, just come across them. Decide it’s because I see no point in being into art objects as I think I’d want them all and a) how to afford them and b) where to put them? Handbags are easier. If you filled your house with design furniture then you’d have to live with the stuff for years unless you’re Donald Trump and keep adding new houses so you can add new furniture. I’d want a new painting, rug, chair like I want new shoes ie. often, sort of like once a week (thank you Jesus for assorted good second hand shops and fabulous sales so I’m not actually one of those people carrying a 10k debt). Owning just one or two perfect pairs would not satisfy me, and furniture and buildings are harder to update. I could argue with myself that in the meantime I’ve lived with the same sofa anyway. Bought in 1987, it has changed upholstery only, gasp, once in twenty years. Out with the Timney Fowler all the rage in late 80's, and in with plain cream which is of course by now totally outdated. But I see what’s around me as… well I don’t see it past its function. I would not walk into my house every time and think ‘God, I love that £800 lamp by ??? (insert name). So long as my bed-sheets are white, I’m happy. But many other people do up houses and then sell on. I couldn’t. As I don’t let go of many possessions, I couldn’t let go of a house. I’d have to be like Sting when in fact I’m like Stewart Copeland who says he has the money but keeps only one house, one car. That’s my boy.
Ps there’s an article in the magazine about limited edition items. Someone has thought of making a fox fur …. Hammock. See, my imagination doesn’t stretch to thinking of one. Though now that I've seen it, I can think of nothing else. Having sex in a black fox fur hammock. How can I get to it? Do you think I can just order one, keep it for a few days and then send it back? How, how, how??? I don’t think anyone who reads this blog has one but who knows, it may have reached some Russian oligarch. Get in touch. I need to lie on one, sleep on one, do whatever you want on one.