slightly weird

6th October 201911th October 2019

Dolls, dolls, dolls and going to the theatre

Sunday, 6 October, 2019

I haven’t been to a movie in quite some time. I haven’t been to the theatre in even longer. Last week I did go to a play – a comedy called Dead Funny. It was put on by a local theatre group called The Tower Theatre Company.

I had actually seen this comedy advertised in the west end not so long ago but didn’t get to see it. Friends at the pub meet for Nextdoor told me they were going so I bought two tickets and along I went.

Dead Funny has five characters. Two couples and a neighbour. All but one is a member of the Dead Funny Society, a group that meets to honour dead comedians. When the news of Benny Hill’s death reaches them they plan to meet to remember him. Of course everything unravels. I’d say that it wasn’t as ‘dead funny’ as expected but in the second half there was enough slapstick, scandal, and mimicry of the great British comics to make it funny enough.

The Tower Theatre Company are called the busiest troupe in inner London, performing about 20 plays a year. They have taken over a building that has housed a church, a synagogue and a women’s gym, so it’s an intimate space. I’ll definitely go to see more.

Actually the funniest, and most embarrassing, part of the evening was near the end when my phone, which I was sure I’d silenced when we first went in, started to ring. I stumbled out of the theatre space to turn it off, and apologised all over the place when the play ended.

On Sunday, I did something new. I had decided to buy a table space to show (or sell) my dolls at a school fair. I didn’t expect to sell any but I was interested to see what it was like, what people might ask, and to ask them questions about the dolls.

I spent some time from Thursday to Saturday making props for the sale. I made two park benches, a Victorian lamp post, and I made a row of terraced houses with attics and chimneys, which I planned to stand up behind the park bench scene. I decorated everything with painted vines and flowers – not wanting to squander too many hours – and it was cute enough.

I made some notices to go with all of this and put together a tool box with things like tape, clips, pencils, paper and the like. A friend had said she’d take half the table and sell her baby shoes but pulled out in the week before. So I was on my own. Luckily, Krish said he could come along to carry things and help me out.

The morning was very rainy but I’d had an email with ‘rain plans.’ This was the first I knew that it was going to be held outdoors. I hoped that it would rain but it didn’t. Instead it was just very windy. Very windy! It was really clear that I’d need a lot of tape to keep the house pinned down to the table. I managed it but it took about three minutes to figure out that it wasn’t going to work at all. Things were flying around.

The playground with a play bus at the back

So I resorted to laying the houses flat onto the table and anchoring the park benches and lamp post as best I could. There wasn’t a hope in hell that my dolls would stand up to much either so I lay them flat on top of the sari fabric we’d taken along as a cloth. Its a miracle the cloth stayed put, with the help of a bunch of clips to weigh it down. A couple of dolls try to launch their way off the table but were rescued.

My table. Not the tidy plan I'd started with — My table. Not the tidy plan I’d started with

The houses firmly taped down and the dolls propped again the benches to try to anchor them — The houses firmly taped down and the dolls propped against the benches to try to anchor them

The dolls and scenery laid flat hair flying all over the place — The dolls laid flat, hair flying all over the place. The sari cloth heaped so that it didn’t get swept away

No sales. A few curious people came by and I chatted with them. I asked them about the value of the dolls and, if they had children with them, I asked about names for the one they showed the most interest in. They were surprisingly uninventive but of course Elsa was popular, as was Rapunzel. Two little girls wanted one but were scared away by the price. I’d decided to try £20 to see how it would go over. I’m still not sure.

The crowd was digital daddies and yummy mummies, the children somewhat precocious. As Krish observed, this was very unlike the Hackney Central crowd.

I wonder if the little house was for infants or the headmaster's family — I wonder if the little house was for infants or the headmaster’s family

We stayed about two hours of the four (very happy that I lasted that long) and wandered off to the main road to wait for a bus. The homes here were smaller than our area but quite gentrified.

At Homerton Hospital our bus was held up for quite a long time – Krish says it was ten minutes but it felt much longer – but we made it home with our stash.

I’ll do it again if I see another cheap table top sale. I’m not sure where I’ll go with this. I’m not keen enough to sell the dolls but I am keen to give them homes and regain the space they take up in mine. At the next one I’ll ask any children that show interest how much they want to pay and let them go. That would feel good so I’ll go with that plan.

30th September 2019

At the Pearly Kings and Queens Festival

Sunday, 29 September, 2019

Sunday the 29th of September has some significance – three ways for me! First it’s Michaelmas day – on Michaelmas day I start to notice the purple Michaelmas daisies and always smile to myself. Then it’s my brother John’s birthday, born eight years after me. And finally the last Sunday of September is the Pearly Kings and Queens Festival, the Pearlies’ biggest event of the year!

The London tradition of Pearly Kings and Queens began in 1875, by Henry Croft. He was raised in an orphanage in Somers Town and, when he was 13 he had to leave to work. Starting as a road sweeper in the local market, he made many friends. He was especially interested in the Costermongers. He was very drawn to their generosity, and custom of sewing pearl buttons, a symbol of status, along the seams of their clothing. He also admired that they took care of each other in times of illness and need.

Henry decided that he wanted to help others too, including the children back at the orphanage. So he drew attention to himself by collecting lost buttons in the market and sewing them to draw attention to himself. So as Henry swept the market streets he started to collect all the lost buttons he found in the market, and when he had enough he learned to sew. Eventually his entire suit was covered and a tradition was born.

The suits are designed and sewn by the Pearlies themselves. They can weigh as much as 30kg, with smother suits having the most buttons and skeleton suits having far fewer.

The designs are symbolic: Horseshoe = Luck, Doves = Peace, Heart = Charity, Anchor = Hope, Cross = Faith,
Wheel = Circle of Life, Playing Cards = Life is a gamble, Flower Pots and Donkey Carts = Costermongers.

You can find a statue of Henry Croft in Trafalgar Square. He and all of his followers to the present day are committed to charitable works for London.

So now you know!

You may have guessed that the reason for this blog entry is that this year I was determined to go see the festival for myself. I lingered in the morning. It was rainy and windy and I felt lazy and just wanted to stay warm and cosy. I pretty much made a last-minute decision to get dressed and leave. I thought that if the church service at St Mary Le Bow would be at 3pm, I needed to arrive outside the church at 2:30. I left the house at 1:40 at a trot. My plans didn’t matter much since the first train arrived at 2:05pm. I wasn’t too optimistic at that point but it’s an eight-minute train ride and I thought if I braved the underground for one stop over to Bank Station, I might just get there on time. And I did!

It wasn’t without incident. It was a long wait for my train to leave Hackney, then when I got on the Central line a tourist family decided to storm the door. Knowing how people have been killed by getting trapped in the door freaked me out a little – there’s another train in just a couple of minutes! – but they were lucky, although they held up the train. At Bank Station, the very long escalator was at a standstill with a half dozen people still on it. Apparently, a young man had been wrestling his case onto the stairs when he fell backwards. He was lucky – people caught him and someone had the presence of mind to use the Emergency Stop. Still, we did have to wait while some people streamed up the stopped escalator and until the station assistant could start the emergency escalator to allow us to get out. Drama, and my day had hardly started!

A subdued Liverpool Street station — A subdued Liverpool Street Station

Down the escalator at Liverpool Street to the Central Line

People climbing up the stopped escalator at Bank

My exit - there are 9 — My exit – there are nine.

22nd September 201927th September 2019

Blogging and Beck Road

Sunday, 22 September, 2019

I’ve always said it doesn’t matter if I don’t blog. I blog when I blog…that sort of thing. Lately there seems to be a lot to blog about and I find myself balancing three lots of photos and loads of words whirling around my head. The photos I took the other day, when the weather was dull and drizzly were quite washed out and that means getting out my editing wand. So we’ll see how it goes.

After Wales came the Geffrye tour, and then Beck Road. My blogs will be dated properly but I’m writing this in reverse. So here we go with Beck Road.

When I hadn’t been in the UK very long, I went to a friend’s Chinese New Year party. There I met someone from the USA who had bought a flat just of the Euston Road. I remember thinking how grand it must be to be able to live there. When she heard I lived in Hackney, she asked me if I knew Beck Road. I didn’t. She said it was a whole street of artists and I should check it out.

All these years later I finally did.

First I made a stop at Mare Street Market for a muffin and a hot drink, while I waited for Lisa to show up. Then we walked two short blocks to our destination.

Beck Road is an unassuming east end street with 56 terraced houses, complete with a railway arch part way down. From the main road, looking at Beck Road, you’d be forgiven for thinking it ordinary, even run down. Yet these homes are valued at close to £1 million, and the residents are significant artists. Some homes have private art galleries but during London Open House 18 doors were opening to the public. It was a busy weekend for me and I thought I’d have time for only event a day. Sunday it was Beck Road.

Beck Road with the railway arch half way down

On each house between the doors was listed the inhabitants on the 1901 census. This was fascinating – first, there were way too many people living under one roof but also most of them seem to have been born within a mile or so of Hackney Central. Some of them were artisans but it wasn’t until the 1970s that Beck Road started to attract many artists. By the 1980s they had begun creating private galleries in their homes.

There wasn’t a lot of time so we spent just a few minutes in each open home. I was just as fascinated with the interiors as I was with the art, maybe more really. Much of the art didn’t interest me that much, to be honest, although there were a few pieces I did enjoy. Strangely, I didn’t photograph any of it. Oops!

Sometimes the owner was there. Sometimes the owner was also the artist. Sometimes the owner was someone who knew the artist. It varied. As did the interiors. So many ways to interpret the same space. As always, I fantasised about living in each one. Pieces of each home were roped off to the public but we could wander around the rest, taking in the architecture and the canvases and sculptures and other works of art.

These houses was a gallery n the outside — These houses had made an outside gallery

A man called us into a house. I thought we were going to get a tour but instead we watched a film, ‘A woman’s hair.’ It was sweet and sad, and Lisa said ‘Well, that was depressing.’

So on we went. Half way along under the railway arch there was a door and through the door was a long hallway with doors on each side, and a steep staircase leading up to the top of the arch where there were some very strange paintings. ‘Too much acid,’ I told Lisa.

Door leading into the space under the railway arch

There was no time left. So I scurried off home. It was interesting to see Beck Road finally. I wonder what it’s like to live life as an artist on a street where everyone else is the same…

21st September 201929th September 2019

I wear a hard hat to the Geffrye Museum

Saturday, 21 September 2019

I took a chance on something I had never done before the day after getting back from Wales.

I saw that Open House London was coming up and that the Geffrye Museum was running hard hat tours for its renovations. The museum has been closed since last year and will reopen in 2020 some time. It’s my favourite museum in London and it’s right here in Hackney, so I’ve really missed it. There were only four tours and each had ten places so I booked a ticket and got one!

I’ve written about the Geffrye before but it’s a lovely concept. It’s housed in some almshouses , which once was home to 56 people. The almshouses were built in 1714 with a bequest from Sir Robert Geffrye, former Lord Mayor of London and Master of the Ironmonger’s Company. At that time the area was quite rural but within a couple of hundred years it became one of the most densely populated areas in London so the owners closed up and moved. The London County Council bought it and the Arts and Crafts movement persuaded them to turn the houses into a museum.

It opened in 1914 and showed off the furniture from local trades people – this was, after all, The Furniture District. From that, the collections were moved into period rooms to show how middle class people lived over the centuries. I find it fascinating to see the rooms – the fashions and customs changing from period to period – and my favourite time was always Christmas. Amazing to see how each generation has celebrated it. Now I’m missing that and here comes another Christmas without those gorgeous tableaux.

The new museum is going to be larger, with a lower level and an upper level, as well as a new cafe, and two pavilions either end for events and education. I do hope I’m in London when it opens its doors properly again.

On Saturday they opened the door to a small ante room where we left our bags and ventured into the construction site, putting on a hardhat and a high viz vest each. The tour guide was Irish so it took me a while to retune my ear. The goal of the new museum will be to feature more than just the middle class home and to improve the flow of traffic. Before there was a narrow corridor that took you past each room and, when done, you returned the same way. This caused traffic jams! Now there will be a one-way system, which will allow you to move through the periods comfortably.

This will be the green roof for one of the new event pavilions. To the right you can see the Hoxton Overground station

Hoxton Overground Station with the hoarding to the left. When that goes down, there will be a brand new entry to the museum straight from where the majority of visitors arrive

Our guide shows us the finished pavilion photo

The basement has been dug deeper to allow higher ceilings and good storage space for cables. Formerly blocked windows will be exposed now to let in more light

This glorious tunnel will be a sound tunnel - a space to reflect on the periods you have passed through — This glorious tunnel will be a sound tunnel – a space to reflect on the periods you have passed through

A construction staircase leading up to the new upper level. When I started up I thought I could do it. Halfway up I almost panicked but, with four people behind me, I had to complete the climb!

The new upper floor. Plenty of ceiling space!

The guide points out the larger pavilion space, the most complete part of the project so far

Inside the larger pavilion - this is right next to where the old entrance area was — Inside the larger pavilion – this is right next to where the old entrance area was

The furniture and other artifacts are safely boarded up for safety and the construction continues. I liked the fact that the building would be as green as possible. I asked about solar panels but was told this wasn’t possible right now. That’s a shame. The gorgeous atrium cafe space is going to be turned into the new entrance area – I’ll miss sitting in there with tea and scones. The new cafe will be housed in an old pub on Cremer Street, which they want to renovate to the period that it once belonged to.

All of the plans were exciting and I hope to be one of the first ones in the door. As for Christmas, well, the Geffrye has had special events and pop ups since it closed and Christmas will be no exception. I think I’ll take the wreath course again.

After I left the museum, I went to Song Que. I haven’t been for years. It’s the most popular Vietnamese restaurant in Hackney. I’m not 100% convinced. However, I wanted to give it a chance. I ordered a small soup (was asked if I was sure since it wasn’t a big bowl – yes!) and some cold rolls that were slightly too tough. But it was a pleasant time-out after the tour. Not sure I’ll bother again.

Perfect size but not rare enough rare beef pho and those chewy Summer rolls

A quick stop at The Grocer, a Whole Foods type store on Kingsland Road. Left with nothing

20th September 201929th September 2019

My week in Wales

Friday, 20 September, 2019

Wales is beautiful…well, Pembrokeshire is. I’ve not seen that much of Wales – bits and pieces and some of it so long ago that I no longer remember the details.

Pembrokeshire is in southwest Wales in that sticky-outy part of the coast where, if you look up to the sky, there are planes travelling from and to North America. In fact, when I cross the Atlantic from Toronto, I’m aware that I’m probably flying over Emma’s town as we reach the coastline.

The trouble is – look away you country folk – Pembrokeshire is rural, dotted with little villages and towns, and it’s wasted on me. Somehow the gene that makes people sigh with relief when they reach the countryside and drink in all that greenery and smell that fresh air skipped me.

Give me the urban life.

But there were five days, more or less, in Wales. Precisely in Goodwick (in Welsh, Wdig) a small coastal town that is twinned with Fishguard (in Welsh, Abergwaun, meaning “Mouth of the River Gwaun”) . There are about 5,000 people living in Fishguard and Goodwick – yes, it’s that small. Emma’s little part of Goodwick is called Stop-and-Call. Confused yet? The photos below show the view from Stop-and-Call, 330 feet from the centre of the town. You can see that you’re high above the harbour.

View of the countryside from Stop-and-Call

View of Fishguard Harbour from Stop-and-Call

Most my time at Stop-and-Call was spent sitting with Emma in her bedroom. Since she’s become less mobile, she’s set up the space with an armchair she can sleep in, a work space, and a small area with a microwave and bar fridge. She goes downstairs when she’s going out. Emma has carers and her son, Sam, helps out. Most of the time it’s Julie, who lives a short walk away. There seems to be a regular routine to all this but Emma says that, after years of yearning for time alone, she spends hours by herself now. She misses London, where she once owned a flat off Brick Lane. I used to love visiting her there.

Emma’s husband, Colin, has been living in a rest home for some time now. He has’end-stage’ MS and so there’s also a complex routine for him, which is shared by Julie and another carer, also called Emma. A lot of Emma’s time is taken up with advocating for Colin and for herself and her family. It’s interesting to see the choreography of it all.

After a quiet but chatty day spent with Emma in her room on Tuesday, we made plans to get out on Wednesday to a spa hotel called The Cliff on the edge of Cardigan. We were promised a stunning view so why not. Elaborate plans were made for the drive – Sam’s friend, Dave, drove us there along many narrow, hedge-lined road, country highways with all the attendant farm vehicles intruding briefly, and through the lovely little towns of Newport and Cardigan – two places I’d consider going back to should I be in Pembrokeshire again.

The Cliff hotel was at the very edge of the Irish Sea. We ate lunch in the sun on the patio, Emma with her wheelchair umbrella. I chose a pasta with local cockles but regretted my choice. It was heavily sauced and this completely swamped the flavour of the cockles, and it was heaped with some crisp, crumbled bacon, which I pushed aside after a couple of tastes. So much for my food review. Well, not quite… Krish and I strolled down to the edge of the cliff to look at the sea, where I took a couple of photos. Then we walked back to have dessert on another bit of the patio that had more comfortable chairs. A deconstructed cheesecake to share…hmm. Three ice cream scoops of under-flavoured dense cream cheese, some biscuit crumbs, a slice of dried orange and some (I thought bitter) blood orange sploshes on the plate. Awful!

(P.S. we preferred the view from Goodwick!)

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