Doldrums for the weather and for my blog. Hopefully, the photos will tell the story of what’s been happening during this mostly dreary month. With any luck my ennui won’t show!
I’d never met my cousin Terry’s daughter, Suzy. We’ve chatted a few times on Facebook. I’ve seen she’s been in London (she lives in York) and also Toronto this year but she’s a quiet, private sort of person, and not really who you’d expect to be a musician – or a filmmaker for that matter. But she’s made a documentary film and it was showing as part of the Doc’n Roll Festival at the Genesis cinema.
So, which band is your boyfriend in? is a documentary exploring gender in the UK’s DIY and underground music scenes. That’s how it’s described. And after the documentary there’d be a Q&A with Suzy. I asked if she wanted to meet and, yes….and so we did. Suzy, her husband Simon, and me.
We had a nice chat, ate some awful Pieminster pie – mine was chicken and mushroom (mostly sauce and sliced mushroom). We talked about family and about how nervous she felt about the size of the audience and being interviewed afterwards. She described the film as ‘rough’ but fueled by her obsession with music. Obsessions are interesting but I’d call hers a passion. With her shy personality, it would have to be for her to get up on stage and perform – she plays trumpet, unusual for a female she said.
So the documentary. She’s interviewed maybe a dozen people who identify as female’ in music. Most are musicians, with a journalist, a sound engineer and a road manager in the mix. I think I have that right. The interviews are edited and spliced into segments, each telling the story of why and how these various women have chosen their craft and what it feels like to be non-male in a male-dominated industry.
I enjoyed it, some bits more than others. Surprisingly, it wasn’t just about prejudice and I was even more surprised to hear very little about harassment. I wondered if this was because the musicians didn’t talk about it or simply didn’t really experience it. Although Suzy mentioned it, the #metoo spectre wasn’t really present. If I can pin Suzy down, I’d like to ask her.
Another surprising, but not new, thing I noticed was how casual the women are. There’s no real dress up, as if they’ve arrived on the stage wearing whatever they usually wear or were wearing that day. Is this a generational thing, or is it more? Interesting since it takes away the sexual nature of the stage performer, often seen as the object of desire for audience members. So for this reason I would like to have known more about their attitudes and experiences around harassment.
Talking about my own experiences as a woman in this man’s world is something I reserve for all-female audiences or sympathetic mixed or male ones. I absolutely believe that women are seen as being less. Less valuable, less important, less powerful, less worthy of attention. And that, although we’ve come a long way, we have so much further to go. There are biological reasons for the prevailing attitudes . But it’s how those things are viewed and treated that make things so annoyingly difficult. It’s a case of women being told to fit into the male-oriented world and somehow not that we all need to fit together regardless of gender. We each have much to offer but we can’t do that if we’re seen to not fit the mould, and that mould is decidedly male.
Briefly about the #metoo movement. Me too! Way too many times. In the workplace, while dating, just by walking along, sitting in a room, by being. Most of us are products of our environment, and upbringing. In a rape prevention workshop, the leader told us that when he asked a room of women could they gouge a man’s eyeballs if he attacked, almost all of them said no. We’re taught to be ‘nice girls,’ desirable, sweet, and compliant. Saying no is not on the table. Sometimes saying yes or staying silent is really an unspoken no. How does this work? That’s the trick. But no is more than just what’s spoken, there’s body language, and other visual and physical clues that only a sensitive and caring person would pick up and act on. So, without talking specifically about my personal experiences – some horrific but many just disturbing – that’s how I feel. No debate.
So back to Suzy’s documentary. I enjoyed it a lot. These were strong people, passionate about what they were doing, honest and earnest in their interviews. Interesting people, some of whom I could happily sit and chat to for hours. Talented people. It didn’t feel rough – it felt real.
And her Q&A was good, nothing to have been scared about. She did amazingly well, sounded expert and confident, only becoming timid and worried after it was all over. She sounded and looked like family.
I thought that maybe we could do this precisely because we’re all unreasonable people and progress depends on our changing the world to fit us. Not the other way around. I want to believe that. I must believe that.
— Joe MacMillan (Lee Pace), Halt and Catch Fire, Season 1: FUD
I seem to be having loads of Torino hints in front of me. That’s so odd.
If I were superstitious…
I had bloodwork on Thursday morning. Once upon a time they told us the old doctor’s office would be renovated or built over with a new office but this never happened. The offices are in such a drab old building and the interior isn’t all that much different, but there’s a lot of new technology. Maybe one day they’ll rebuild it. Meanwhile, the phlebotomist is the nice one, and not the mean one, so that’s a very good thing!
Opposite the doctors is an imposing 30s style building[/caption>
This morning it’s raining. It’s been raining since yesterday mid-afternoon. It’s not the relentlessly heavy Turin rain but it’s a lot for London, along with the sometimes fierce wind. By 3:30pm it looks like twilight and the mornings are dark enough that I light candles rather than turn on the lamps. It must be November!
London feels nothing like Turin. The light, the architecture, the feel of the streets, the earthy smell here. It feels more mellow in Hackney.
On Wednesday we wanted to go out but it was another rainy day. So it was Thursday when I decided to take a trip to Kings Cross to check out some venues for a Christmas get together for some colleagues. Continue reading “Rediscovering London – reflections 2018”
Things went really smoothly for leaving Turin. The cab showed up exactly as we got downstairs with our luggage, the train came on time, and our seats were great! This time first class felt a lot more like first class. Don’t know what happened the last time.
Anyway, the seats were comfy and we had our first forward facing seats of all our bookings (all requested that way but none except this delivered) Toilet is still disgusting. I think they must use a septic tank method. Not sure. Even the plugs were accessible and working. I watched two movies and then my battery died. Both fluffy and forgettable.
Oh and the scenery was gorgeous. Low and higher mountains (the Alps) usually draped with clouds at several levels, and snow covered (see the videos at the bottom). None of my photos do it justice, with the reflecting train lights etc. I thought, as I sat on that train, if I couldn’t have a sea or river view, I’d choose mountains.
Paris was another story. Arrival was on time and it was looking good until we tried to get down to the RER level so that we could get to Gare du Nord. The down escalator was broken. I suppose they opted to keep the only working one as the up, and I get that but when you have two heavy suitcases and a carry on, even down is a real challenge.
First I, then Krish, tried to find an elevator – no luck. It was a long way down with a landing in the middle. No choice but for Krish to bring each large case down in turn, me carrying the not-so-light carry on plus my CPAP and bags. Once down there we then had to get into the metro for the RER and again, there was no working escalator and no elevator anywhere. This time Krish had to bring each case down three levels. How the very elderly or disabled would manage it I have no idea. Never anyone around to ask questions of either. This seems common all over Italy and France, no station staff…
After that, all went well. Krish and I took turns popping out of the station to look around. I didn’t go far. I thought about crossing the road and venturing further but the traffic was terrifying and the area around the station isn’t inviting. Instead I found a Five Guys and got some Cajun fries – 3.50 for a small one. It was nice to have something hot and spicy after two months of under-seasoned food. We also had a messy but satisfying cherry clafouti for our evening Eurostar snack.
Paris still wins no prizes with me. They cleaned the station up but the streets around it still smelled like a toilet. So we waited for the Eurostar train and then had a swift journey towards London in the dark.
At St Pancras I ordered a mini cab and we had another swift and pleasant ride to Hackney.
Always weird to come home after being away, staying in somewhat more luxurious places. Still, it looked tidy and familiar – bigger than I remembered – and very cold! On with the heat, cup of tea and some soup and sausage rolls (that I picked up at M&S at the station) and eventually to bed.
Sunday we unpacked. Everything is out of the cases but the bits and pieces aren’t all put away yet. That will take some Krish Tetris skill since the cupboard looks quite full already and a food order on its way this morning from Ocado. We had booked to go for Sunday roast but Krish asked if we could put it off. Instead I got a little steak pie (for one but split between us) and some cole slaw for lunch and we got some Indian food that was dinner and then lunch yesterday.
Some reflections are in order. I love Hackney. Krish says he misses the view of Superga and the Alps (when we could see them) and the market and the people. And, of course, I do too really. But then there are so many things that are good about here. The light is different, and the weather, the people, the transport, the language, the attitudes, the food, the architecture… but I sense a lot of freedom and opportunity. And I suppose that’s what brings the Italians to countries like this anyway. Italy again next year? Who knows but for now, this picture says it.
* Krish said I should coin this. I’m sure someone already has!