in praise of rain

The rain is falling in soft, fresh waves outside my window, and it soothes my soul.

Sadly there aren't many things I can claim to share with my uncle Ian, aside from being family. He is a talented and successful artist, writer and illustrator. He lives in west london, me in the east. But we both seem to share a love of the rain.

And the elegant Tiko Tuskadze who runs my favourite local cafe, Little Georgia, and I always greet each other with dismay when it is hot and pleasure when it is cool or raining.

Everyone else is complaining about the rain and the 'rubbish summer'. I find this disappointment so strange. We have had many days of sun this year - remember the blistering May? So why the expectation that these have to be clustered around a few months in the middle of the year? It rarely happens and you'd think we'd have clocked this by now. Anyhow, I think the pleasures of rain are overlooked.

A few reasons why I love the rain:

It is watering our lovely community orchard

Playing melancholy piano sounds great with the rain

It means I dont get red sun marks when I walk to work

It makes a calming ambient soundtrack for writing and reading

It gives me an excuse to spend all of a sunday watching films and cooking

It means I can actually get stuff done, rather than feeling i should be outside pointlessly flopping around in a park.

paper anniversary

This time last week I was trying to get to sleep with sirens skidding past my bedroom window and helicopters circling overhead.

It was our second wedding anniversary and we had decided to walk home after dinner with some friends. Tentatively walking down Old Street and Hackney Road the reality of the riots we have been glued to on-line suddenly turned my stomach and pricked my skin into high alert. All the shops were closed and the usual stream of wannabes coming out of the pubs were nowhere to be seen.

It was shocking the scale of the violence and how arbitrary it spread. It felt like the illusion of peace and stability was just the emperors new clothes, and that night it felt like we would remain insecure and scared walking home at night, gangs of feral kids and police powerless to control.

And it was confusing; community spirit was revealed in the Stoke Newington shop keepers protecting their livelihoods and in rival gangs who normally shoot at each other for crossing into the wrong street were joining forces. Initial empathy for a generation who have been abandoned quickly replaced with deep concern for the small shop owners and the people fleeing their burning homes. 

Yet how quickly we return to familiar and the predictable. How quickly its over and we have to remind ourselves it wasn't a dream.

I can't analyse why or what caused the riots or what the solutions are. Its complex and there is enough analysis right now. But it did remind me of this poem. Did the rioters in England in 2011 know what they are fighting for? And did the Latin American revolutionaries know what they are fighting for?

I'll never forget my philosophy lecturer at university spontaneously scrapping the set topic and railing against the introduction of the tuition fees, how he had to publish a quota of articles in order to pay his family bills, leaving him no time to 'be a good tutor'. He apologised, said it was an outrage. He couldn't believe we weren't up in arms, protesting, rioting for the poor education we were getting at rip off prices. And this was over a decade ago, before university graduated you with a £25k debt. Well I remember feeling ashamed and momentarily inspired. But as soon as I left the hall I was out buying records and dancing at what felt like the most important place to be while the world outside shaped our future.

Self Portrait at Twenty Years

I set off, I took up the march and never knew

where it might take me. I went full of fear,

my stomach dropped, my head was buzzing:

I think it was the icy wind of the dead.

I don't know. I set off, I thought it was a shame

to leave so soon, but at the same time

I heard that mysterious and convincing call.

You either listen or you don't, and I listened

and almost burst out crying: a terrible sound,

born on the air and in the sea.

A sword and shield. And then,

despite the fear, I set off, I put my cheek

against death's cheek.

And it was impossible to close my eyes and miss seeing

that strange spectacle, slow and strange,

though fixed in such a swift reality:

thousands of guys like me, baby-faced

or bearded, but Latin American, all of us,

brushing cheeks with death.

Roberto Bolaño

(translated from the Spanish by Laura Healy)

magic in the waiting spaces

I've just returned from a trip to Italy by train and recalled a time I was waiting for the eurostar.

 I was sitting reading the paper and drinking coffee, waiting for the platform to be announced. In front of me a tired looking, slightly overweight, grey haired guy was leisurely tuning his trombone. The next time I looked up he had vanished. I wondered idly whether this was a busker or just a musician very precious about his instrument.

A short while later the same man appeared in a garishly floral waistcoat, and started warming up on his trombone.

A couple sitting near him also waiting, the woman jokingly asks "Are you the travelling circus then?"

"I'm seeing off the train to disneyland", the musician replied, "The magic starts here."

"So do you feel magical?" she says.

"No. Been doing this for 15 years," and then starts up with his music.

Harvey Krumpet

At home nursing a virus and feeling bored, I came across this delicious short animation.

It won an oscar and its well deserved, i love it. Particularly the Busby Berkeley inspired sequence with knocking wheelchairs.

folly for a flyover

For an hour I was transported to a mystical fairy land with flying horses, princes rescuing princesses and Aladdin's magic lantern. The sounds of the orchestra lifted us onto a floating carpet with bells and horns.

In the final battle scene between the sorcerer and the witch it felt like we were all part of a shamanistic ritual, as we shook our rattles and rang our bells.

 

The contrast with the concrete flyover that was our roof and the murky green canal made it seem all the more magical. 

The audience were all given different percussion instruments to create the different sound effects. It was a clever way of creating an enveloping cocoon and keeping your focus while we all suspended Hackney reality. 

This was a truly magical night out. It was created by the same people that made a beautiful cinema in an abandoned petrol station on Clerkenwell road where I saw Buster Keaton shorts and we drank beer in a transformed petrol shop bar.

notice the shadow orchestra blending into the scene

Apparently this is the oldest surviving animated feature film. I really loved its simplicity and beauty with the silhouette animation. A real work of art. And a great story.

After we enjoyed a beer in the amazing 'house' made of wooden bricks. what a brilliant invention!

Corner shop community

I went to the corner shop as usual on a sunday morning to buy the paper and was greeted by an unfamiliar face at the till. He could see my surprise so I asked and he replied, slightly annoyed, 'everyone has been asking that. He's moved on, gone back to Turkey.'

I realised I didn't even know his name. Yet i felt i had got to know the corner shop guy, who always greeted me with a smile and 'how's my friend' (Gustavo). He liked to tease Gustavo for his unkempt hair while stroking his trim styled beard.

When I got home we were both sad that we hadn't had the chance to find out his name, and tell him how much we appreciated his warmth, how he had been a key part of our local community - people you recognise and trust.

Had he been forced to leave by new owners, perhaps there was there some family problem that meant he had to leave London?

A few weeks later I bumped into this Kurdish ex-shop keeper and asked him what he was up to, that we missed him. He told us that he sold the business and had graduated from university. It was great to find out our assumptions were wrong and he was happy.

Searching for images of corner shops I found a blogger who had written about these guys. They used to give her a bottle of wine when it was her birthday. So I guess they were something special.

Fragments on a Night Train

Didnt anyone tell them?
You go on holiday to escape yourself
To give yourself a break
from yourself
your petty worries
your daily habits
your work routine

But here they are lugging their burdens in large wheeled bags onto the train flying through the night with light dreams of fields unseen.

I realised soon that i wasnt the one observing I was a mirror on their world.
They were watching their children and each other through my eyes

My presence alone, i need not speak, reflected back their lack of imagination.
A silent outsider I echoed back their dull coversation and their focus on food, phone games, multi distraction as the sights and play of light on europe sped past unnoticed.

Would they crack the glass and make me real with questions I couldn't ignore?
I waited but they turned their large backs and lay down to sleep.

As I too lay down, the soft carriage beats and humming wind carried me back to the same seat alone in a night sleeper to Delhi from Calcutta with another family, this time in brightly coloured clothes, sharing their food and excitement enveloping me in their family circle without conversing, but communing through their indian spices and smiles.

A fragment I found in an old notebook as I was tidying my desk and arranging a trip to Italy for a friend's wedding. We're going by sleeper train. My favourite way to travel.

Wedding Fever

Let the wedding season begin! 

The summer that stretches in front of me will be punctuated by weekends away celebrating love and watching friends launch off the platform of happiness, hope, friends and family. 

Last weekend I was in Dorset for a very English wedding in the sun and rain with too much booze and the traditional trio of men giving speeches. 

Although fewer and fewer people marry now, for those that do, we are starting to reinvent these rituals and traditions.  We reinvent them when we make the myriad miniscule decisions from what to wear (does the bride wear white as a symbol of a new start rather than virginity, and is the groom formal? Can a guest wear white?), to where they marry (in a church because it’s a religious ritual, or because it symbolises your childhood community or tradition, or in a registry office or a field), whether the groom wears a ring (to symbolise equality? – both wear rings), who gives a speech, whether you ‘cut the cake’, whether the bride and groom stay apart the night before and leave on the night of the wedding. Each small decision and big decision – what vows are said, religious or atheist ceremony – is shaping the ritual and its meaning.

I think rituals can have a transformative power, not just for those directly involved, but for everyone there. They mark passages of time, they bond those there and they collectively reinforce values. So if you marry in a church you are probably consciously or unconsciously reinforcing your traditional values. A wedding creates a public space where your community comes together. When your community is fragmented, online, global, not just where you live and grew up, this is a modern way of creating a community in the physical, binding you to it, and giving it a part in supporting your relationship.

But it’s not about the hype and madness of a ‘fairytale wedding’ that will somehow magically transform your relationship into one of perfect romance. If we reinvent the ritual to symbolise crazy feats of perfection where the bride has to look the best she ever will and is treated like a princess, what does that symbolise? The more ‘perfect’ the wedding, aesthetically and materially, the more perfect will be your marriage. I prefer the story of friends of ours who married with two week’s notice in Mexico with a handful of friends and family, found a band on the street, asked a local family to cook the food and off they went. The focus became the excitement of life after the spontaneous romance. 

Marriage should be liberation, setting you free to live your life with someone who loves and supports you, setting off on an adventure together, not ‘settling down’. And the weddings that reflects that are the most inspiring and the ones you most enjoy

Mind you, our wedding was a drunken festival so I’m not sure what that symbolises for our married life.

I am a camera

"I am a camera with its shutter open, quite passive, recording, not thinking. Recording the man shaving at the window opposite and the woman in the kimono washing her hair. Some day, all this will have to be developed, carefully printed, fixed."

This is one of the memorable lines from a fantastic play I saw on friday night by John Van Druten, inspired by Christopher Isherwood's Berlin novel. It is showing at the wonderful small theatre above the Rosemary Branch pub along the canal from my flat. 

still from the film I am a Camera

It was a funny and poignant portrayal of two close friends trying to make sense of being artists in Berlin against the backdrop of the rise in fascism. The lead character who was the inspiration for Sally Bowles in Caberet is a crazy, drunken unsuccessful cabaret singer, jumping from rich guy to richer guys, buzzing with energy and overenthusiastic gushing. She's like a more wild, less good looking Holly Golightly. Someone you'd like to throw a decadent party with.

Cabaret

Catch it before it whirls off the stage. Its a great night out with brilliant performances from the whole cast.

Boys chatting football, girls chatting love

In the office while making a cup of coffee this week, I was impressed by a professional and serious discussion taking place about strategy by two of the few men in the office. They sound so serious, expert and intelligent discussing tactics and management.  It was only after a few minutes that I realised they were discussing football, a hobby. It was a way of having small talk and bonding (with the few other men around) but sounded more informed and intelligent than when they discuss work – their actual expertise. 

I am also amazed at the amount of chat by women about relationships, their love lives, family, parents, or friends. Not just in the office, but in the pub, over coffee, walking in the park. The analysis is often as in-depth as the football chat.

This is an old cliché. That men talk about football and women talk about emotions and relationships. Its obviously an absurd generalisation and stereotype. There are lots of women that love discussing sport. And I discuss relationships and love with my male friends just as much as with my female friends. Sometimes more.

What is interesting though is how these habits are ascribed gender characteristics. Apparently men talk about football because they don’t do emotions and are better at facts and physical strength. And women talk about love because they are better at emotions and relationships.

But I really doubt how much this is down to differences in men and women and whether these are ‘male’ or ‘female’ characteristics. 

I have a longstanding argument with my husband about the differences between men and women. I think that there are little or no differences except physiological and biological differences and everything else is a process of social conditioning and learning what it is to be ‘male’ and ‘female’.  I sometimes go even further and argue that women are ascribed characteristics that prevent them from succeeding in life. My pet hate is multitasking. I think women are told they are naturally good at multitasking because it means they are more conditioned to perform menial jobs that require juggling lots of small things, and gets men off the hook with domestic chores.  Multitasking is a useful skill if you’re a mother juggling a baby, cooking and your long list of things to do. Its useful if you have an administrative role at work. But its no good if you need to focus and concentrate – an apparently ‘male’ trait. 

Gustavo thinks this is absurd and that men and women are clearly totally different and have different clusters of characteristics because of their gender.

Well a new report out this week by the think tank Demos put this debate on the political agenda. In the report Yvonne Roberts argues that there is evidence to support my theory that it’s all largely learned and conditioned by parenting, schools, and the wider society. She does point out that the scientific evidence is confusing and could be used to draw either conclusion.  

But while the jury is out on the evidence, I think it makes sense to try to keep gender away from characteristics as much as possible because of the constraints that this can put on equality, success and happiness.  The report argues that confusion about what is masculine and feminine restrains women (it’s not feminine to be tough at work and push for promotion, and women are good at multitasking so take the lion’s share of domestic work) and it also constrains men (its not masculine to be good at communication – a skill required to find job where there has been a shift from manufacturing to predominantly service economy).
 

Roberts adds some evidence to my previous post about the lack of good female role models in film.  In a study of Hollywood films released from 2006-2009 out of 5,554 lead characters only 29% were female and out of these a quarter were eye candy (compared to 4% of men). Roberts asks the same question I’ve been wondering, ‘So where are the positive heroines?’

Female Warrior, Greek statue

Interestingly a worthy new group, the Man Collective, has been set up to help men redefine what masculinity is. They feel they are part of a generation of men who feel lost and confused about their role now that they are no longer the ‘breadwinner’. 

I have many male friends struggling with this inherited idea they should be the ‘breadwinner’, earning enough to ‘take care of the family’, while in reality their partners are earning more or they aren’t in a position to earn enough to be defined as the ‘breadwinner’.  And this is despite the fact that they know rationally this is absurd, that we don’t live in that world anymore, and that one of the reasons they are attracted to the women they are with is because of their ambitious or success at work. 

Generations of women, rightly, have been trying to redefine femininity. Men need to do the same. And together we need to try to loosen the expectations of gender and allow for men that enjoy gossiping and women that run companies.

So an ambitious woman who is good at negotiating is not masculine, she’s just ambitious and good at her job. Or when a man is sensitive or makes an effort with his appearance he’s not ‘in touch with his feminine side’, he’s just more balanced and making an effort.

One of my favourite quotes from Roberts paper is from Edward Glover who gave an influential series of broadcasts for the BBC, arguing that women were naturally weak, needed domesticity to impose discipline, without which they would fall to ‘an orgy of knitting. Failing such solace they are inclined to eat their hearts out.’ 

Harsh! Although I quite like the image of an orgy of knitting….

Honey Bee Justice

On Friday my husband opened up his urban honey bee hives for UNICEF’s lovely youth climate ambassadors. He pointed out an interesting honey bee twist in generational fairness. 

When the hive starts to get crowded because there is an abundance of forage and good living conditions, instead of the younger bees leaving to start their own hive (as happens with humans), the elder bees leave with their queen. They leave, so that the younger bees can benefit from their accumulated resource, stability and wealth, and can create their own queen and their own colony from a strong position in an environment that is proven to support life sustainably.

In the honey bee world, parents leave their assets for their children at the point at which they most need them, in youth, rather than at the point at which the parents can no longer use them. The elder bees have the responsibility for moving on and starting from scratch, rather than expecting the children to. 

In my job at UNICEF UK I've have been thinking and writing about intergenerational justice in the context of climate change for a few years now. Children are being left with the burden of climate change largely caused by their parents’ high-carbon lifestyles. 

Children everywhere, but especially in developing countries are growing up in an environment that is more at risk of disasters, drought and instability, largely because of the lifestyles of previous generations, especially in developed countries. This goes against a core human instinct and a common shared value across many countries that parents try to leave improved opportunities and accumulated wealth for their children, or at least attempt not to leave the world in a worse state for their children.

There seems to be a growing interest in this as a framing concept  – not just for ascribing blame – but for finding an equitable solution. And it is uniting young people across countries with very different contexts with a shared sense of injustice and agency. 

Intergenerational justice seems to have now become a mainstream political concern in the UK. Ed Miliband recently stated that his overriding focus for the Labour party was fairness between generations, not just social and financial equity within generations. Ironically Nick Clegg and David Cameron, started with David Willets's publication of The Pinch, have also used the argument of fairness between generations to justify the budget deficit – on the grounds that it will reduce the burden of debt for future generations (some may argue that it might do the opposite for the current young generation as they have to take out greater loans to pay for higher tuition fees and waiting for job opportunities to pick up again - implemented by the very same David Willets as Eduacation Minister).

I met David Willets at an event on intergenerational justice and he said he hadnt really thought about solutions to the generational inequality in climate change.

If the solution proposed is along the ‘polluter pays’ principle – those most responsible should pay, compensating those least responsible but bearing the brunt.

Maybe honey bee justice would see be retired baby boomers downsizing and handing on their wealth, knowledge and resources to the younger generations creating the solutions to a more sustainable world. Or maybe just spending their life accumulating benefit, knowledge and assets in order to create an abundant, healthy world for their offspring to start with.

Number 10 Frowning Street

I'm the cockroach Prime Minister of course, and I have to hurry back to Frowning Street....

At the end of the next short play, as our hero's (a mint leaf) friend 'scar' (a skull on top of a ghost) dies in his arms, he cries, "but are you dead or just asleep?"

And in another, the unwittingly funny moment when Sandy Salt (a sea shell) explains how her father, a 'no swimming' sign is trying to stop anyone going into her mother (the sea) as she had already had too many people in her.

Everyone knows children's imagination and insights can be moving and inspiring. But it was the genius idea of Scene and Heard to ask children (aged 10/11) to write short plays that professional adult actors would then perform. None of the words are edited and the actors did an amazing job of bringing trippy obscure characters to life, adding just enough humour but not undermining the children's sentiments.

It was one of the best nights out at the theatre I've ever. Check it out next time. I wish this was done more often. Helping children, particularly those from tougher parts of London, to express themselves, but also helping the audience to remember and enjoy children's unbridled imagination, innocence and wisdom.

Where are all the heroes?

It is time for all the heroes to go home

if they have any, time for all of us common ones

to locate ourselves by the real things

we live by.

(William Stafford)

A Danish sub-titled drama, focusing solely on one crime throughout its 20 episodes, with Copenhagen city politics providing one of the main story lines, doesn't sound like addictive TV. But I've been hooked to The Killing on iplayer mainly because of the lead role, Detective Sarah Lund, played by Sofie Grabol.

I love the fact that she doesnt seem to suffer any guilt about not spending enough time with her family or son, totally immersed in her work in the 'male' stereotype. She's focused on her work 'because its important', but uses her feminine sense of intuition to stay ahead of her male co-workers. She's also rocking a casual I'm-too-focused-on-the-case-to-think-about-what-i-look-like look, while managing to create a fashion fuss about her awesome jumpers. But mostly I love the character because she's not there to be an aspirational role model even though you admire her stubborn focus and self assurance.  

Noticing that there is a season of heroic female leads at the BFI, perhaps we are slowly starting to realise there can be more archetypes in cinema that mother, lover, girl next door or psycho/witch. I like female leads not because they are the perfect role model but because they are an interesting, strong, unique and believable lead character. 

Sarah Lund in The Killing

Perhaps we shouldn't want female heroes any more than we think we want male heroes. An interesting article by Margaret Wheatley argues that its a mistake to want to be rescued by 'a hero'. Instead we need to realise that no hero can save us from either our own personal issues or by the many modern crises. She points out that solutions to problems will come from leaders who can bring out the ideas and experiences from a complex mass of people. These leaders need to be hosts rather than heroes. Because no one person can ever really be 'in charge' but only create the space for people to solve problems.

Heroes can only ever inspire from the grave. Living leaders inspire not by telling us what to do and how to live but by allowing us all to be heroic in our individually small ways.

Our
 heroic 
impulses 
most 
often 
are 
born 
from 
the 
best 
of 
intentions.
 We
 want
 to 
help, 
we 
want 
to 
solve, 
we 
want
 to 
fix.
 Yet 
this 
is 
the 
illusion
 of 
specialness,
 that 
we’re 
the

only 
ones 
who 
can 
offer 
help, 
service,
 skills.
 If 
we 
don’t 
do 
it, 
nobody
 will. 
This
 hero’s

path 
has 
only 
one 
guaranteed 
destination —we 
end
 up 
feeling
 lonely, 
exhausted
 and

unappreciated.


It
is
 time 
for 
all
 us 
heroes
 to 
go 
home
 because, 
if
 we 
do,
 we’ll
 notice 
that
 we’re 
not

alone.
 We’re
 surrounded 
by 
people
 just
 like 
us.
 They
 too 
want 
to
 contribute,
 they
 too

have 
ideas, 
they 
want 
to 
be 
useful 
to 
others 
and
 solve 
their 
own 
problems.




Truth 
be
 told,
 they 
never
 wanted
 heroes 
to 
rescue 
them 
anyway.



In fact Sarah Lund is a great example of why trying to be a hero is not something to aspire to. But you'll have to watch 20 episodes to understand that....So i'll leave you with a great shot of another great strong female lead on the big screen.

Jane Russell in The Paleface, on at the BFI

Suffering Jukebox

suffering jukebox such a sad machine 
your all filled up with what other people need 
and they never seem to turn you up loud 
there are a lot of chatterboxes in this crowd 

suffering jukebox in a happy town 
you're over in the corner breaking down 
they always seem to keep you way down low 
the people in this town don't want to know


Listening to this song with the fabulous lyrics made me think about DJs and record shops. 


There has been a huge shift in the music industry and the way people buy music. The old model of record labels is being challenged. Most record shops are closing and purchasing is now digital rather than on vinyl. Whether that is a sad loss or just an inevitable evolution is an old debate. But I'm interested in what's happening to the role of taste makers and selectors. With an exponential growth in stuff, access to a mass and maze of information, more and more people sharing their ideas and creations on-line, the selectors have arguably never been more important. But where do you find them?


When I used to DJ, I was definitely a selector rather than mixer. My mixing skills were pretty sketchy, mostly because of laziness, but also because I was more interested in spending my time digging for the best tunes, the songs that would get everyone smiling and sparks flying between two people eyeing each other over the dance floor. My favourite weekend browsing was in £1 boxes of vinyl at flea markets and record shops. The best record shopping experience of all was at the amazing Jean-Claude's If Music. 


After a day sitting a computer at work I would relish the short walk through Soho, down the cobbled road, past the flashing neon of the sex shops and the Christian missionary outfit, to find the warm lights and sounds of good tunes. The door would soon be closed, a bottle of wine opened and we would sit chatting about politics and life while playing through a pile of records he hand picked out for me. He knew my style and my tastes so well over the years that it was like the most luxury personal shopping service. Except I'd also provide a small exchange of friends bands to critique or champion. 


It could be pretty intimidating for many people, in that classic High Fidelity archetype of the music nerd, despairing over requests for anything considered mainstream or not in the genius category. I used to watch with pity poor nervous 20-somethings plucking up the courage to walk in and ask for 'something jazzy' or 'that song by that guy in that...' So many of their much needed customers were terrified away. But it was this discerning taste and this impeccable knowledge of good music that was the value of the shop and its reputation.

Walking into this amazing shop was also walking into a creative catalyst. Jean-Claude would champion and support new struggling musicians, playing them on his radio show, in his club sets or by connecting them up to his contacts. Producers and singers would swap numbers and tips while buying their tunes to play out on the weekend. Some of the artists we were trying to help with Traficante record label were helped out in many ways by this shop and Jean-Claude. He would pass on the records to DJs coming in, put them more prominently on a shelf even though we had no marketing budget. The Dolly Daggers (then became the Golden Silvers), Jade Fox (then morphed into the fabulous Invisible) and Supernashwan (now Gold Future Joy Machine).


I guess all of this is now moving online. But does some of that catalysing and connecting move too?


If Music, like many other record shops, has a good online site which lets you sample music in the same way you'd have a listen in the shop, has reviews, write ups and IfMusic recommendations. Perhaps its ok that vinyl is mostly replaced by digital, and that purchasing is online. I feel a bit stubborn when I turn up at a gig lugging a stupidly heavy box of vinyl in 2011. But how will you get that same recommendation for your set list based on personal contact. Can sites and computer generated algorythms like spotify replace DJ selectors and record shops for recommendations? 


I cant help but be depressed by reading that BBC DJs now all have their tunes centrally selected with a computer generated database compiled from audience research. I cant imagine a database can do a better job, or the same job, than John Peel did.


I certainly wouldn't have had an amazing epic DJ set from Jean-Claude on my wedding day if our transactions had all been on-line.


If anyone would like my personal, hand-picked-from-my-very-dated/retro-vinyl-collection selections let me know and i'll post some podcasts. In the meantime, enjoy this:

Yes Indeed....

One of the walls in my flat is covered in Edward Gorey illustrations I cut out from a calendar. I love every thing about them. So perfect. So funny. So poignant. Beautiful.

I still have a fantasy that one day someone will help me make a Gorey film. Not like Tim Burton, cartoon style, but crisp, black and white, Edwardian, slightly unnerving, surreal and funny atmosphere. I sketched out an idea for it when I was taking a film course at my cousin Daisy's film school, the London Film Academy.

Turns out there are some serious Gorey fans out there. Quite a few people have Gorey engraved onto their skin. Check it out!

So, anyone think we can make this film happen?

Quite!

green and barren theatreland

The only film I remember walking out of because it was so bad it was winding me up was Woody Allen's Match Point. So I dont know why Gustavo and I didnt both walk out of Greenland, a play he sweetly bought me tickets to as a birthday present, but which we both agreed was the worst play we had ever seen. And that's saying something. On our first date we bonded over some really pretentious physical theatre at one of the V&A's late night events.

Perhaps it was because we were at the National Theatre, it was my birthday, the tickets were expensive and we hadnt mastered a signal that we wanted to get the hell out and go drinking instead.

My heart sunk slightly when I heard it was about climate change. This has been my day job for many years now and I'm aware of the difficulties of making climate change interesting or funny. But I went with an open mind.

Analysing it afterwards we decided the only message, the only point, that it successfully communicated was how hard it is to communicate anything meaningful or interesting about climate change.

What most people have in common is a love of stories. Everyone can relate to emotions and a good tale. Climate change isnt a good story. Its a very complicated, technical science. How we react to it, or not, though can be interesesting. Our relationship with the planet, with nature, with understanding risk - these are all interesting to me..but to make good theatre requires a bit more respect for the audience than imaginative uses of multimedia. The only, tragically few, moments that drew you in were the personal stories of a scientists monitoring the birds in the Arctic and a political advisor and a climate modeller falling in love. But they left you hanging, only superficially skating over, like the birds flying around the theatre, film projections of the real birds.

I'd rather theatre inspired, made me laugh or created heroes. But a earnest attempt to dramatise an issue just because its important? I couldnt help feeling frustrated at the waste of time, talent, money and the audience good will. If anyone else has seen it and disagrees i'd love to know.

When we left the play we came across a fantastic photography exhibition of the beat poets. That made up for the visit. I had no idea Kerouac looked like a film star.

Married with two names

I married Gustavo nearly two years ago and I'm still dithering about what to do with my name. I've fudged it for now by having two. I continue to use my maiden name at work and, depending on my mood, will sometimes use my married name - see blog title!

The problem is it is starting to cause confusion. At a gig on thursday night when the doorman was looking up my name on the guest list, do I give him Stone or Montes de Oca? Some friends have started using my married surname..I give him Lucy Stone as its easier to say, and out of habit. The doorman thought i was chancing it when he couldn't find me on the list and i then gave him another name.

But above the logistics is the principle. I want to have the same name as my husband as a symbol of our union. Yet I want to keep my identity and individuality whilst being part of a couple.

Does it belittle me taking my husbands name? Does it mean i'm subsuming my identity by assuming his? Or is it simply an extension of the joining together of us both in our marriage by sharing the same name?

Some people make up a new name, or merge their names as a solution. In Mexico I am Lucy Montes de Oca Stone. That's quite a mouthful and will inevitably be shortened to Lucy Montes or Montes de Oca.

For me though, the most important factor that is weighing over me is my namesake.

Lucy Stone was an amazing suffragete, fighting for women's rights and slave abolition. She was the first known woman not to take her husbands name after marriage.

She said, "My name is my identity and must not be lost."

In fact, doing a 'lucy stone' is to keep your maiden name after wedding.

 

She was not allowed to vote because she hadnt taken her husbands name and died before full rights of women to vote were established. She is a great hero for women.

So does it betray this proud association with Lucy Stone if I dont keep my name? Or is it in fact a sign of emancipation if after a century has passed I can now take my husbands name without any loss of rights?

Does it change my identity as Lucy Stone suggested? Well I dont think it does because my identity is now happily changed by being married to Gustavo.

Yet I love the name Lucy Stone. I love that it connects me to this inspirational figure.

I tried to honour her at my wedding day by speaking, that in itself still a pretty revolutionary thing for a bride to do at a wedding. Normally a bride focuses on looking beautiful, and everyone else talks about her beauty. The bride usually stays mute, smiling and staying demure.

I forced myself to speak to my friends and family because I was overwhelmed by the significance of the ritual of wedding, and wanted to thank my friends and family for creating it and being a part of it.

Gustavo was poetic and heroic. I mumbled about Lucy Stone and keeping her married name, I dont think anyone understood what I said, but it didnt matter. The point was that I stood up and confirmed that I was more than a bride in a beautiful dress. I was Lucy Stone.

So what do I do? What have others done? Can I keep both names that I love so much. But I also so want to be Mr and Mrs something.

Perhaps we could be Mr and Mrs Lucy Stone Montes de Oca.

On living a balanced life

At a party on friday night I was chatting to someone I had just met. He was a tall good looking guy describing his apparently perfect life; his successful career making feature films, a wife he loved and a healthy small daughter. Yet his wife had moved to Bristol and they met at weekends. They decided there was no point in her staying in London when he worked such long hours that he didnt see her or the daughter, passing each as they came and went in their busy life. This was a solution to him keeping his job and losing the guilt, and her having a less urban life that she craved. Yet she was now struggling with having to work and look after the child. They were having to keep working hard at high salaries to pay for their two houses and travel backwards and forwards from the two cities. Perhaps they will find this will work out. But it struck me that they were in this familiar trap of success.

To me the ultimate sign of success, as I define it, is being able to spend most of the time doing the things you love, and that includes being paid to do the things you love, being paid enough to be able to take time to do things you love that dont pay! Having time to play the piano, write your blog, spend a day helping a friend, making curtains, spending time with your child or partner.

Making curtains!

Gustavo bee-keeping

Flexible working is an essential ingredient to redressing the appalling in-balance of women in senior positions in the workplace when they have returned to work a mother. This is not just about ensuring women can balance a senior job and being a mother by providing good part-time jobs. Its also about ensuring men also want to take part time jobs to be a father too. It hadnt occured to the film-maker father that now he was in a senior position at work that he could negotiate reduced hours. Yet I bet he would be used to negotiating better pay at work or promotions.

We have never been more wealthy now in 2011. We have far higher expectations of comfort levels and technology to make chores quicker. Yet I cant understand why more people aren't aiming to work less hours a week as part of their vision of 'success' that they work towards. Its not just a parenting issue, but a question of having time in your life to do your hobbies, to be a friend, to volunteer, to grow veg, or just to enjoy the seasons. This inevitably also means living on slightly less. But that's not necessarily a sacrifice, just a question of being more careful and clever about the money you do have - by making and growing more of our gifts, home decorations or food. All things that apparently everyone wants to be doing more, but doesnt have the time. Hence Jamie Oliver's 30 minute cook book being a roaring success.

Gustavo and I are both now working part time, not because we are sharing child care, but partly a response to pragmatic circumstances working at charities with limited budgets, and mainly due to a desire to have other time to work on side projects, to work with neighbours growing food on our estate, and to tend to his bees. I supposed Cameron would like to think we are a model Big Society couple as we are both setting up social enterprises part of the time we are not in our paid jobs. But really this seems to us the only way we can really live a balanced happy life. It means we can take a risk with a social enterprise without sacrificing our careers. And I can start writing again without worrying if its a viable career option, but just because its what I like to do. We've only just begun this part time life, and are definitely having to be more frugal or creative (depending on the energy levels!) and cant go out as much as we did. So lets see how it works out. But so far I am finding it hard to imagine wanting to go back to full time, if I am lucky enough to be able to keep finding good part time jobs.

I'm going to keep a track on inspiring stories of people who are living on part time jobs. I have read about a few men in law firms setting this trend. Here is one for starters.

The New Economics Foundation recently published a report about the 21 hour week, arguing that it would help tackle unemployment - more jobs to share - as well as help reduce environmental impacts (less travel to work?), and better health - less stress, more time to exercise and cook and grow food.

I have a friend making a documentary about the 21 hour week. Will this be a future trend? Lets make it happen.

True Romance

One of the perks of part time jobs meant that on Valentine's Day we could take off for a lovely long walk in Hampstead Heath, browse a book shop with a coffee, duck into a pub at 4pm, and then relax into a film at the cinema. Lucky our choice was well rewarded. True Grit was a fantastic treat; to watch a film beautifully made, and a good tale well told. Although I love Jeff Bridges, and he was so enjoying playing Rooster Cogburn, he's really a supporting role to the fantastic Mattie played by Hailee Steinfeld. It was so great to watch a female character stealing the limelight, not because of her youthful looks or cynical wit that comes with age, but because of her intelligence, strength and sense of justice. I love the character and wish there were more like that.

Its funny that Gustavo and I met on Valentine's Day because we now mark that as the day we met, despite the fact that neither of us care that much about the concept of a valentine's day. Romance is a daily surprise to me and something I will try to write about without being gushing or bragging but because I think its something to celebrate and enjoy. And because its actually pretty rare to encounter in its pure, genuine form without some form of cynicism.

I've been inspired by the protests, from the success at protesting against forestry sell off to the Egyptian youth overthrowing their President. And it strikes me there is a common thread between pure passion for justice and pure expression of love (whether at the world or a person). Its a really refreshing change from decades of the dominant culture of cynicism. Dont get me wrong, there is a place for that, and for questioning and for laughing at absurdity and people who take themselves too seriously. But this surely must be balanced with passion for the truth and innocence? I think we need more of this innocence, of idealism.

simplicity

One of the nice things i've done at work recently, judging a film competition for young people. The winner, a beautiful animation by young children at a London school says it all really. We are all connected. Give the colours back to the earth people!

21st Century Wooden Houses

I've been hoping the fashion for glass and steel would wear out for years. It depresses me every time I see another massive glass and steel box going up in London. They all look the same to me, so unimaginative, the only excitement over childish competition for the 'biggest yet' or a novelty shape - ooh, a 'shard', ooh, a 'gerkin'. But they are all so cold and shiny, with all those strip lights glaring out. I don't hate all glass and steel buildings, and I love the contrast of glass against old stone. But could we not have some more variety and texture, and some more imagination.

And the intensity of the process, the extraction of the resources, the manufacture, transport, construction, the labour, makes you wince.

So I was intrigued to read about the first wooden high rise building in my neighbourhood in Hackney. Looks great and is so much more environmentally friendly. Hope its a great place to live.

Dressing my husband

Thanks Jazmin for telling me about your friends label, Percival, a perfect fit with my new years resolution - well made clothes, made in London from good material. If only they did women's clothes.

Beautiful and Sustainable

My new year’s resolution is to try to buy just a few, well chosen, well made clothes, made from sustainable material, have been made by people paid a decent wage, and are pieces that I really love and will treasure and last. Ideally I'd like to support UK designers/craftspeople. I want to by just a few items this year. Is this even possible? I am bored of having four imperfect cheap black skirts, made poorly in factories, that won’t last. I could have bought one really beautiful expensive skirt that I really love to wear. And shouldn't we support enterprise and talent with good wages when we are lucky enough to have a good wage ourselves?

It didnt start well. I headed to Ascention in Oxford Street, only to find it replaced with another shop. I guess the recession was harsh on ethical shops. 

Sunday Gustavo and I emerged from our flat on a beautiful sunny cold day, walked down to the canal, said hello to his bees, noticing buildings now knocked down and those growing up. We came out from the canal  at Islington, me hoping to detour to the sale at Equa clothing. Nope - it too was closed and full of packing boxes. Hard times. I need to think laterally. Fashion Grads? WI knitting circles?! I'm not so fussed about organic. Good quality material, well made and a good wage are my three magic ingredients.

We ambled down Copenhagen street, diverting past giant murals and a jumble of old estates, trying to find the Pangolin Gallery to see Lynn Chadwick’s bold sculptures. We found a strange public square with a giants playground full of large colourful wooden piles – too big to play on. Walking past a beautiful square we stopped a moment to hear joyous singing and drumming echoing out of an old large church. That part between Islington and Kings Cross is a great London mix, changing all the time in some parts, and elsewhere has been the same for decades. The whole area awaits the anticipated ‘regeneration’.

The gallery inside shiny new Kings Place was closed - how can it be closed on a Sunday? Instead we enjoyed Keith Pattinson’s black and white photography exhibition of the miners’ strike in Durham.

Some very moving photographs, capturing the frustration, determination and solidarity of the workers. Some fantastic tight jeaned men with swagger and patterned jumpers, girls with big hair and large tucked in shirts reminded me of my sisters in the 80s. But the backdrop of the mines, the grey sky and the exhaustion after weeks of striking created some very atmospheric, powerful, beautiful images.