Dancin'

So this was us, Saturday night - going out dancing! To clarify, HOH was very keen on Northern Soul when he was younger.(Very, Very Keen) Northern Soul, for the uninitiated is dance music rooted in Motown and other, more obscure, very danceable soul music. In the early Seventies, there was a huge movement in the North of England where working class people (Including, unusually lots of men) would go and dance to this music all night. 10pm until 6am usually. The place at the epicentre of this movement was Wigan Casino - not a casino actually - a dance hall (no idea). It became a way of life for disaffected young people including my HOH. Eventually, it all collapsed under the influence of modern music, dodgy dealings by the club owners and accusations of drug taking. (Most of which were true - how else do you think people danced for eight hours straight?) However, what it did leave behind was the music and our house is a place where this music is usually playing somewhere. Consequently, although not involved with the original culture, (much too young) there is a lot of music, I really like and I do know a bit as well. 

When we lived in the North of England, we would go a couple of times a year to reunions. These were now, not the wild events of the early Seventies but rather sweet affairs where people in their fifties would get to dance to the music they loved on a good dance floor with plenty of talcum powder. (helps the feet to slip) and I would get to talk to a lot of interesting people and occasionally dance quietly in a corner.

We were really chuffed when we saw this advertised at the Guildhall. There isn't much Northern Soul round here and so off we went. This time making sure we had a bit of an old lady nap in the afternoon so we weren't too tired. Time catches up with us all you know. 

So the first thing I thought when I went in was, are there paramedics on call? People seemed a lot older and fatter than I remembered (which, of course they are) . There was much less dancing than I remembered - lots of people were standing round the edge of the dance floor just sort of doing actions for a lot of the time. In the olden days, people used to take a change of clothes because the pace was so frenetic. People were still walking in with the traditional holdalls but I'm not that sure that you need to get changed into your Union Jack T Shirt and baggy trousers after two hours of doing Semaphore. I tried to go to the ladies and ended up queueing with some nice women outside the disabled toilet because that was apparently all there was in the lady department. I was informed by a rather too chatty lady that she needed to go because she was in cream trousers and was on her P..... - mimed of course. Why would she think I would want to know that? Anyway - eventually a MAN came out of the toilet. There was some speculation that he might have been doing drugs. Really? At your age? Are you sure?

The biggest disappointment for HOH was the music. Most of it was very modern, which he is not too keen on. AND (this is very important) the turntables were too fast. This meant that Little Anthony (Of Little Anthony and the Imperials, obvs) who has a high voice at the best of times, sounded like Mickey Mouse on helium. Also, vinyl records are very precious things which need to be loved and caressed like a laydee. I thought HOH would faint when a loud scratching noise was followed by a DJ announcing "Sorry, quite a bit of fluff on the stylus there," Had to physically restrain HOH at this point.

So he danced to a few things (no talcum powder allowed, the floor was too expensive) and then suggested we go home. We went out into horizontal rain, and no taxis anywhere. I am not good at hailing cabs, it always seems a bit forward to me. 

He was disappointed of course and you do wonder if there comes a time when it is indeed all over for you. I'm not so sure. Some decent music and a bit of a rest and we will be back one day. Probably

Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell

Is anyone else watching this? I am - a bit, sort of. I am not sure if I will stick with it. I'm not sure if I like it. It is based on the novel of the same name and is set in a world where magic is returning to England as part of everyday life. When I say magic, I wouldn't like you to think of David Copperfield floating past the Empire state or even Paul Daniels and the lovely Debbie Magee astonishing us all with card trickery. No this is a much darker sort of thing and I think I am a bit uncomfortable with it.

I am also having a bit of trouble working out what is going on, There seem to be two magicians who are sort of in competition to be accepted in society or something. This is all very well until one of them steps over the mark and brings someone back from the dead and this has "unwanted consequences" These appear to be a man with nails that could do with a severe pruning back, coming in to the resurrected lady's bedroom in the middle of the night and making her dance with a lot of people who look like they are auditioning for an Adam Ant video. Understandably she is beginning to find this a bit wearying and is getting very snappish. 

This week Strange has gone off to war to help Wellington, which seems to me to be cheating a bit. It isn't exactly a fair fight when you conjure up all sorts of stuff to give you the advantage. 

It is, as usual beautifully shot and clothed - if a bit dark but I find it a bit draggy. We discussed whether it is our Christian background that made me uncomfortable with all the magic stuff and I think there may be something in that. All in all, I think I would rather spend an hour with Peter Kay. 

North! And Don't Spare the Horses

So to York to visit archaeology student son and to see Tim Vine at the York Grand Opera House. (These things arranged in order of importance obviously - although Tim Vine was very funny and son was...well not as funny to be brutal)

York played ball and the weather was lovely, so wandering around was a pleasure rather than a chore. The photo above is the entrance King's Manor which is where archaeology is based in York uni - not the worst place in the world to study actually. The Kings mentioned in the title were Henry VIII and Charles I who both stayed there (er..almost certainly) or knew it existed at the very least. Either way, it is a lovely building and the toilets are very clean. I don't think they are for public use (it's not what you know - it's who you know) so don't just wander in - there will probably be a scene.

We had a wander round the shops which was nice for me and tolerated by other members of the group. I had my first ever meal in Nandos and I am able to report that although my lunch was quite mild, spicy rice does indeed make your lips go tingly.

In the afternoon, we had a nice drink by the river. An idyllic type thing. Then we went to see Mad Max at the flicks. What on earth is all that about eh?  No idea. It's supposed to be dystopian and I don't feel able to argue with that. I'm not really complaining - I did enjoy it. You just have to hold tight and get on with it. Very fast and very furious. Don't worry too much about the plot because, unless I am very much mistaken, there isn't one.

Then back to the hotel eat crisps, drink wine and watch the end of the Eurovision Song Contest. I haven't seen it for years and this year, it seemed to consist of everyone shouting "ANYONE BUT RUSSIA" really loudly at the telly. My favourite bit was Nigella giving the British scores. She reminded me of a young Katie Boyle. 

On the way home - had to take in Ikea in Warrington. I LOVE Ikea but we live in Devon so it isn't felt necessary to bless us with a store within the next five years because we are still living in caves and knitting our own cheese. 

And now - now I am pooped. 

24 Years and Counting

Hullo. Just a short note to say today is my 24th wedding anniversary! 24 years! and they said it wouldn't last. No, they did actually say it wouldn't last. HOH had a somewhat undeserved reputation as the church lothario before we married and I was warned off several times by well meaning friends. (Well my Mum's friends actually) If I were feeling that way inclined, I would write a very spiritual post about not judging on other people's opinions but I'm not. So just going to content myself by wondering if my tummy was ever that flat and then off to work. As you do.

Bird

Matt Sewell

You have as little to fear from an undeserved curse as from the dart of a wren or the swoop of a swallow.

Proverbs 26 2

This is clever, really clever. (I know it's in Proverbs and it's Solomon and clever is his thing but it is still striking) I don't spend that much time in Proverbs. I don't find it what you might call upbeat, though I understand the reasons why. I think all knowing God-given wisdom and seeing the world exactly as it is could be a curse as much as a blessing. 

Birds are strange don't you think? Beautiful and strange, almost otherworldly. I do know a man to whom life has maybe not been kind and he keeps parrots. They are his very dear friends and it is a lovely thing to see but I think birds can be scary as well. I live in a city but by the coast. We see plenty of seagulls They are astonishingly beautiful when you get up close. The whitest white contrasts with a lovely flat grey. They are not always popular here, they will take food and they are noisy but I love them and, to be fair, they were here first! I once spent a companionable hour with one in the park while I ate my sandwich. He waited patiently until I had finished and I secretly threw him the last corner (frowned upon round here) and in return I got to surreptitiously glance up now and then and look closely at how lovely he was.

Wrens and swallows are  different though, tiny little scraps of life, darting around. There is a lovely drawing in my bumper book of garden birds. We once had a wren trapped upstairs in the bank where I worked. It was so small yet getting it out was such a task. It was terrified and swooped and dived, making us all jump and run. It felt like havoc had been unleashed. Yet when we eventually got it out - we had been the ones that had done all the damage - thrashing about and running for cover.

Which is why this is so clever. An undeserved curse, a piece of gossip about you. I'm not talking about the more serious things that go on, which need to be dealt with properly - just the day to day slights and nastiness that can hurt so much.  It's horrible and it makes you jump. Not unlike a dive at you from a swallow. But it can't damage you - not really. Not if you keep it in context. If we react badly and it is understandable, I think, when we do, then the damage it does to us can be out of all proportion to the original slight. The old-school instruction may be the best idea. Take it to God. Leave it there. We are God's own. God looks after his own. He will be our shield and defender. Bat it away and get on.