All about the music?

In case it escaped your notice, it was Eurovision last Saturday. As tradition* dictates, we had a party, with a wonderfully random collection of food and drink from across Europe, hosted again this year by Shona.

After our trip to Krakow, both Cat and I were on a bit of a mission for Polish food. I visited the Eastern European shop I found in York, as well as Tescos, and we found Lidl in ‘Boro to be an excellent source of European delicacies. We had Swedish vodka, Pimms, and some Polish fruit juice that I found which was ‘Shrek green’.

We had our score cards, as always judging Eurovisioness as well as song, costume, performance etc. This year we had the added comments of the London jury.

Of course it was all as bizarre, and the voting as predictable, as ever. Our winners were the Latvian pirates, followed by the Ukrainian ‘Shady Lady’ and Denmark. Some were just so weird that they seemed to be an experimental theatre production. As for the actual winner, well, it made our ‘top 12’ and there is something about a performance which includes the world figure skating champion!

By that time, however we really didn’t care. We’d raised a glass to plucky little San Marino, who gave us our first point ‘bless them, they don’t know the rules’, and cheered the Irish, and it was all over for another year. Next stop Moscow – or is it? There are reports that Wogan will pull out (but then they've said that every year for the last few), and it wouldn't be the same without him. we did think he sounded a little jaded this year though.

*that’s 4 years of tradition now, since we were in Istanbul in 2004. And Foxy is still the highest scoring UK entry. It’s starting to look like a triumph.

Let's party like it's 2004

It’s been a long time, however you look at it. Time was we saw each other almost every week. It must be at least two years since so many of us have been together for a gig.

When this tour was announced I was looking forward to a ‘proper gig’ not just a band in a pub, but a 'credible' music venue. Well actually it was still 3 bands in a pub, but a music pub with a separate room for the music. It had just the right level of grunginess, but still served decent wine*.

When we get together we are loud, and this time was no different. There was much hilarity in the bar; about the fact that Shona, Corinne and I were given glasses, whilst Gayle and Becky got plastic; about Gayle’s ‘broken foot’ (‘health and safety!’) and the lack of any first aid apart from a comedy plaster; about the fact that crisps can be sold as ‘roast ox’, so much so that I was literally crying with laughter.

Eventually we went into the music room. On the way in, they tried to sell us Griffin t-shirts. ‘He’s signed them’, ‘sorry, that’s sooo 2004’. The support band was on. After about one and a half songs we decided to go back to the bar. They weren’t awful, they just weren’t anything special. We returned for the headliners, Ivyrise**. After the first song we thought they were pretty good, by the second song we were moving to the front, and dancing. I really enjoyed their set, and they loved the fact that we danced.

Shortly afterwards, Griffin was on. It’s a long time since I’ve heard him do a set that isn’t mainly covers, but this time he did his own songs, including a couple that I didn’t know. As always, the voice is there, and I loved I Have Lived, Silent Suicide, and Naked. I would have liked a couple of rockier songs to dance to though.

In very many ways there was a sense of déjà vu about the evening. We had a great time, from dancing in front of the stage to wandering the streets of Leeds in the early hours looking for chips. Note for the future, Leeds needs a strategically located van that sells chips, so we don’t have to cross the city to go to a Golden Arches.

*I’m just imagining how my boss would view that statement. He asked my advice on which champagne to order in a Chinese restaurant the other night. My advice was not to buy champagne in a Chinese restaurant!

**Although they are headlining the tour, having had a number 7 single, they were appearing second. The reason for this, apparently, was that at the first gig, most people had left after Griffin, which is frankly rude, and I felt so bad for them.

As this tale is about DIY dentistry, it is not for the fainthearted

If you’re squeamish, look away now.

It happened because I needed a sugar fix at work on Wednesday morning. I bought a bag of wine gums. Second sweet into the bag, it felt extra crunchy! Don’t you just hate that feeling.

I knew what had happened, but initially thought it was a filling that had come out – oh no, it was the whole crown, leaving a nail sticking up. I was in a bit of a state, to say the least.

I rang my dentist, who could have fitted me in, but I was in Liverpool, and wasn’t going to be in York till Friday. My colleagues told me to try and get an appointment with the emergency dental service, so I rang NHSDirect. The dental nurse told me I wasn’t an emergency as I wasn’t in pain (never mind the fact that I could hardly talk and would have found it very difficult to eat), and advised me to get a DIY kit ‘from any chemist’.

I was a bit gobsmacked by this. I know the state of NHS dentistry is bad, but I didn’t know they were now advising you to do it yourself!

Anyhow, the kit was purchased, and I looked rather dubiously at the contents, A few cotton buds, some even more dubious liquid (‘is that glue?’), and some putty/cement. I read the instructions – it all sounded quite scary.

Eventually I plucked up the courage to have a go. As we don’t have a decent mirror in the place, or a staff room or restroom, I ended up with a mirror propped up on some boxes in a storeroom. It was hardly conducive to effective dental treatment. I soon discovered that it is incredibly difficult to ‘DIY’ – very fiddly, and you can’t see what you are doing. Eventually more by luck than judgement, I got it back in, held in with the putty.

I went to my dentist yesterday morning. I seemed to have done such a good job she had difficulty getting it out again. But I just know that in the long run this is going to be very expensive.

Understanding Stoppard

For a long time, I’ve regarded Tom Stoppard’s plays as something of a challenge. I find him ‘consciously clever’ in that he shows you his intelligence in the play, but sometimes in a way that seems patronising and to look down on the average theatre-goer. Basically, I find him an intellectual snob. Of course, if you ‘get’ the play, it’s quite another matter! So, I love the plays that I understand, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, Travesties, but I have recollections of watching Jumpers many years ago, which was billed as a comedy, and I didn’t have a clue what was going on.

I did want to see Hapgood* at the WYP though. I remember the first production of it, 20 years ago (yes, I am that old!), when the reviews were mixed, but it’s not really been revived since. This time it has Josie Lawrence playing Hapgood, an actress I’ve always liked**. I approached it with some concern, though, after reading that it was about quantum physics (?!!). I used to come bottom in ‘normal’ physics, never mind the quantum variety!

As always, I bought the programme and sat and read some of it before I went in. I was even more worried. I didn’t understand much of what was in the programme, so how was I going to fare with the play?

By the interval I was confused. I understood it. Yes, there were a couple of fairly dense scientific bits, where I didn't understand all the details, but that didn’t matter, I could follow the play. It wasn't ‘easy’ theatre, you had to concentrate and think about it, but I love that. I like how it was put together, like a classic spy thriller, with questions asked, but not yet answered. It was clever, but I didn’t feel I was being preached at.

Act 2 pulled all the stands together, in what I thought was a very clever way. Afterwards there was a ‘talkback’ with the cast. Quite a few of the audience stayed behind for this, and it was clear from some of the questions that one or two hadn’t grasped the plot at all. What was also said was that, after the original London production, Stoppard had re-written the play to take out some of the physics.

As we left the theatre, another audience member asked me if I’d found it difficult to understand. I said I though I would, but I hadn’t, and neither had she. Maybe, as Corinne said, I’ve just seen an awful lot more theatre since Jumpers. I’m certainly up for more Stoppard, and I never thought I’d say that.

*As an aside, it’s fascinating to see this as a Cold War play only a couple of weeks after returning from Krakow. This play was written only a year before the Berlin wall came down, and it seems to be from a different world.

**I liked her Katherina at Stratford, though not everyone did.

This year, wherever we go, we seem to find mud!

I think it’s evidence that we’ve had a wetter Spring than last year, in that all our walks recently have been muddy ones. My walking boots remained pristine all last summer, but this year, they’ve got very muddy. Of course, it’s also evidence that we’re more adventurous in our walking, and don’t just stick to the well trodden paths anymore.

What a difference a few weeks makes. After wrapping up against the cold and the wind in Malham, it's now time for the SPF and the sun hats. On Friday, as it was a glorious day, and remembering that, last year, spring turned out to be summer, we decided to take on the challenge of the longest walk in our book. 6.5 miles from Coxwold to Kilburn, and back again. It’s one of my favourite areas, in the Howardian Hills.

Of course, as usual, it takes a long time for us to actually start the walk, as we have to have lunch (cake!) before we start. After about an hours walking, we arrive at the Black Swan at Oldstead. The last time we were here, it was quite run down, but now it’s had a re-furb. New décor and a new menu. The sun is shining, the cherry blossom is in full bloom and it’s idyllic. Of course we stop for a drink.

Afterwards, we get a bit lost crossing a field, but decide it’s because the farmer has ploughed up the path. Back on track, the walk takes us through woodland, along a ‘green swath’ (the writer has waxed a bit lyrical on this walk) and up a valley. Eventually at about 4.30pm, we reach Kilburn and the 'Mousey Thompson' visitor centre. I have to admit I’m speeding up at this point, as I want to make sure that we make it to the centre before the tea shop closes!

Tea and scones later, we set off on the return journey, and immediately get lost. We end up in a farm yard. We’re supposed to pass an oil tank, but it isn’t there. ‘I suppose that could have been an oil tank’, I mutter, and we decide it’s the only option and press on. In another field we get followed by a friendly herd of cattle. The afternoon is drawing to a close now. The final leg is down a country lane, back into Coxwold, so no opportunity to get lost.

I'm starting to feel a real sense of achievement now. And all this walking means I get to eat cake!

Reality Check

After the beginning of both series, I’ve been a bit quiet on The Apprentice and I’d Do Anything aka the search for Nancy*.

The Apprentice was hysterical this week. I really think this year’s bunch is the dumbest yet. You’d think they’d never watched the show, and didn’t realise they were being filmed. This week it was the buying task when ‘sralan’ gives them a list of items that they have to buy for the cheapest price. The added complication was that this time he sent them to the souk in Marrakesh.

The losing team not only failed to understand what kosher chicken was, and got one killed and blessed in a mosque (!!) despite having ‘good Jewish boy’ Michael Sophocles on the team. They then tried to bribe a shop assistant to tell the other team that they couldn’t get tennis racquets strung until the following day! They deservedly failed, and both Jenny (who has been consistently horrible) and team leader Jennifer were fired. I think I’d have gone the whole hog, and fired Michael as well for being, as Margaret** said, a waste of space.

I’d Do Anything is another story. None of the performers have grabbed me like Connie and Lee did, and if feels much more manipulated than ‘Maria’ or ‘Joseph’. My feeling is that this time they want to say ‘look, it is possible to come in with no formal training, and end up with a west end leading role’, and that one of the teenagers will win. My favourite performer was Sarah, though I didn’t feel she was Nancy, I’d have like to have seen her make the top 4 or 5. I still think Rachel is the best actress, but she’s not had great songs the last couple of weeks. I initially liked Jessie, but it doesn’t seem that she can act, at all, and her posturing and habit of singing out of the side of her mouth is annoying me to hell. She and Sam seem to be ‘the Lord’s’ favourites though – his face is a picture when some of the others are singing.

I will, of course, continue to tune in, as I need my fix of the Barrowman – and he at least seems honest in his opinion and feedback.

*really not interested in the selection of Oliver

**I love Margaret. She is mistress of the withering look, and when it was commented that Michael had studied classics at Edinburgh, she said ‘well, clearly Edinburgh’s standards have dropped.

Holiday Snapshots

One

Our tour guide, Luke, of Crazy Guides, arrives to take us to Nowa Huta in the ‘Trabby’. It’s pale blue. It’s also made of fibre glass, and pretty old. When I get in, the interior reminds me of the first car we ever had. It has seat belts, but he advises us not to wear them! It has very few controls. There’s a sort of bar on the dashboard that I hang on to. The gear lever is also on the dashboard, and looks complicated. The car smells heavily of fumes, and apparently you have to add oil to the petrol before driving. It has a manual choke, which brings back lots of memories of learning to drive and inadvertently flooding the engine!

Later Luke shows us the engine. There isn’t a lot to it. I think he realised when he was referring to the horsepower of the car, and I had absolutely no idea how it compared to my car, that he was speaking to the uninformed! ‘Not much to go wrong’ we comment, however Cat spots that the engine is worryingly close to the petrol tank!

It rattles a lot as we move through the traffic, and especially when we pick up speed. Apparently he can make it go quite fast, and can even take corners on three wheels. I’m quite glad he doesn’t attempt it with us in the car.

When we arrive in Nowa Huta, he just mounts the kerb to park the Trabby. ‘We don’t bother to lock it, no one is going to steal it!’ On the return journey, I sit in the back, and find myself almost banging my head on the roof as we go over any bumps.

Two

We eventually find the minibus that will take us to the salt mine. It’s already full, and there are no seats left. The driver nods at us when we ask if we can get on. We have to stand, but the journey’s 'only 20 minutes'. He lets other people on after us, and it begins to be a bit of a crush. There are so many nationalities; someone comments it’s like the United Nations on a bus!

We set off. It’s pretty packed, but we keep stopping and the driver lets more people get on. We begin to wonder if someone is actually sitting on the driver’s knee. The windows steam up, so much so that we can’t really see out, though I am at least getting a little air from the sun roof above my head.

Eventually someone gets off (a struggle, but they manage) and Cat gets a seat. The guy next to her is listening to the ‘Wake Up to Wogan’ podcast. Things are getting more surreal by the minute. Only the Brits are discussing the journey. I'm thinking it's that Dunkirk spirit starting to come out!

We turn off the main road. It can’t be far now. The road gets progressively worse, and is full of potholes. At one point my feet actually leave the floor as we go over a bump, and Cat leaves her seat. It’s starting to feel like some form of torture for tourists!

Eventually, after about 35 minutes, (it seems longer), we arrive. When the bus stops, for a few moments, no one moves, not quite believing that we’ve arrived. I think none of us are sure how to extricate ourselves without tumbling into a heap.

The return journey seems like an anti-climax, as it takes about 20 minutes, and everyone gets a seat!

The continuing search

Along with my never ending search for Jesus in a snowstorm*, I’m always on the look out for lime vodka, ever since we bought some at a fair in Cheltenham a few years ago. It was the stuff of legend, but it didn’t last long, and I’ve never come across any since.

Looking at the list of vodkas in the bars of Krakow makes me very optimistic. They seem to have all sorts of flavours. In the first ‘tasting’, I try mandarin, which comes in a chilled glass, and is lovely. We then decide to visit the Vodka Bar, which advertises that it has 108 flavours of vodka. We only try two, (well, it is only early evening) but they have the elusive lime vodka. And it is really something special.

Cat asks where we can buy it, and the barman directs us to a shop in the main square. It’s a couple of days before we start the serious search, during which we try other varieties, including cherry, lemon, honey, and just plain vodka. Nothing comes close, though the ‘Polish Flag’** cocktail is pretty special.

When we start the search, every time we ask, we’re offered lemon, and having no idea of the Polish for ‘lime’ try to explain that it’s like lemon, only green. It doesn’t get us far. We are offered a ‘lime infused’ Finlandia, but I’ve tried that, and it’s a very pale imitation.

In our last night, and in the last shop – one of the 24 hour Alkoholes – we’re again offered lemon, or mandarin. I opt for mandarin, as it’s the closest I’m going to get.

The search continues.

*He exists, I saw him once at Milan station. As far as I’m concerned it should probably be a place of pilgrimage!
**vodka and grenadine

A whole new world

Last week I was in Krakow. Poland. The first time I’ve ever been to a country that for much of my life has been inaccessible because it was behind the ‘iron curtain’. The fact that you can get there so easily now, on a cheap flight, still rather blows my mind.

One of the first things is that we’re spending zloty, not euros. It’s also different to be in a country where you can’t even attempt the pronunciation of most words. Thankfully, most Poles speak good English. We’re already visiting too late to avoid the country being infiltrated by the big corporates. As we travel into the city on the mini bus from the airport, we pass two drive-through ‘golden arches’, and pass an Ikea (our third of the day). Thankfully, Starbucks doesn’t seem to have arrived as yet, but Tesco’s has.

Unlike many Polish cities, Krakow wasn’t destroyed in the war, and it’s retained its medieval centre, which is beautiful, with buildings like something out of Grimm’s fairytales.

I knew very little about Krakow, or indeed Poland, before we went. It turns out to be an amazing city, with an incredible history, but also one that brings home to you the horrors and excesses of the 20th Century. We may only have had a few days, but I feel we got the ‘flavour’ of the city. It was all rather fabulous. And yes, there is much more to Polish cuisine than beetroot* and cabbage! There was also quite a lot of vodka!

*Though beetroot soup turns out to be a bit of a revelation