Media Frenzy

Well the life and times of kitty are hectic ones indeed and this week's theme has been media related. To start, Bart and Gundi of Grapevine fame were over for the weekend doing a London special. Unfortunately they arrived too late on Friday to gain the full secret London I had planned and anyone who's anyone will tell you that a saturday night in town has much less to offer than a friday for some unknown reason.

I took them around Camden market, resisting the temptation to get violent with the several thousand tourists getting in our way and found one of those dresses which makes me skip with joy. Vintage, fits perfectly, a style made for me, perfect condition and only a tenner. Such joy from something so shallow.

I was otherwise engaged on the saturday evening out in old street so suggested they give me a shout on sunday. sunday was a fancy dress party at Sambucca. I went as.......yes, of course, a pirate. It was after much drinking and dancing that Bart called at around 11 hoping for a night out. I had to quickly explain that in the UK on a Sunday you are hard pushed to find anywhere open at that time - except that is for the colour bar (previously Under Solo) where Omah plays orgasmic motown and soul hits. We agreed to meet in Camden as quick as possible and it wasn't long before we were shaking our poontangs with me getting a warm reception and 'AAAARRGH MATEY!' from all sides.





Monday evening had been reserved to meet up with Chris Rowe who is the director of the Iceland Airwaves documentary I am helping out with/being in. He and I had an interview booked with a journalist from Grapevine bizarrely enough. It turned out she couldnt make that evening and we rescheduled so instead I went and met Chris to run through some more details over a red wine and cola and i got some rather good cds as he works for one little indian.

Yesterday I was contacted by Tony who does PR for Epitah and thusly some things involving SG, like me. I was invited on the Trisha show. Oh my, too amusing for words. For those of you outside the UK - the Trisha show is a UK daytime chat show much along the lines of Oprah. I was invited to discuss the 'alternative slice of life' and I so desperately wanted to go on in a shell suit and ham it up no end purely for comedy value. But it is far too public for my liking. I am in no way ashamed of my pin up activities but am aware that in a job such as mine, involving meetings with clients etc, it would not be very professional to appear on terrestrial tv. Additionally people like my grandma watch that show and it would break her heart if she knew about it. I have shown my mum some of the photos etc and she was very complimentary about them even though I didn't spell out what or where they were for exactly, but my poor gran really doesn't need to know.

I was also asked if i would be on a documentary about the pin up worldwide, i have said i may very well do this as it will be a late night thing and i don't think it will be shown until the new year. So there's no concerns re: work or grandma.

Time is moving fast and there is still a great deal for me to get on with but things are clicking into place and fun keeps appearing, October will be full of fun things, for its Airwaves and Trabant are touring the UK, including playing at a Halloween party which should be radness untold. I am going to take Viddi to a 1930s style night at Cafe Royale jsut so that he can play at being a real English dandy. Oh yes, its going to be a crazy month.

Shifting gears

I have spent the weekend in Devon and my erratic mindset has been calmed somewhat. I became extremely distressed last week when I discovered quite how much money it was going to cost to bring Frank the cat through Icelandic quarantine – a sum way beyond my means. My mum had also been diagnosed with extreme allergies and the possibility of him living with me when I went home was looking minimal.

Whilst in Devon I bumped into SuperSue, my dear friend Scotty’s mum. Scott and I grew up in each other’s houses as we lived on the same street and by way of default our mother’s act as each other’s second in command. SuperSue is a wonderful mumsy woman with a fantastic laugh that comes out to play regularly. Whilst catching up over a coffee in the sun my Frank dilemma came to light and she offered to house him. This is almost certainly the best possible outcome. SuperSue is cat mad and hers died last year. Not only do I trust her to care for Frank as if he’s her own pet, but I can rest assured he will be spoilt rotten, in fact my only worry is that he will end up a right little porker.

To those of you without pets I am sure the level of sadness I feel about leaving Frank will seem ridiculous, but I am utterly devastated. I miss him when I go away for a week, let alone months. To compensate I tell myself that the move to Devon then shortly after a month in quarantine followed by moving to wherever I am in Reykjavik would have caused Frank a great deal of distress and this option will ensure he’s a happy little bunny and his mum may find it easier to find a flat.

In addition to the cat issues I had been feeling increasingly nervous about the entire move, work, Devon, friends, everything and my trip to the country has settled me considerably.

I arrived on Friday evening, greeted by adoring parental units and quickly scrubbed up to go and meet my boys in the pub. I love them dearly and am very pleased to be presented with some time hanging out with them but to be fair I don’t exactly enjoy the same things socially as they do. Its all shirts and townie pubs. I had a brilliant time out with them don’t get me wrong, drinking and dancing and I tell you what, walking into a pub and being kissed and hugged by old familiar face after old familiar face was joyous, but I did have a certain edge of fear looking around at what my social life may entail for 3 months. But the love of the boys saw me through, as always.

The only one missing in action was EvilAdi the other half of the Exeter Pirate Core. So once I decided I had enough of the club and considerably enough to drink I stumbled up the road to his flat and hung out for the night. He listened to my fears over the nightlife in Exeter and pointed out this is why he doesn’t often go out anymore. We drank champagne and went to bed and pooned for Britain.

The next day I had to do some work for my mum’s website so got picked up with the night before’s makeup on and a headache to rival any other. Once the work was done I set off on my usual 4 hour-27 charity shops route march. I have been dreaming about charity shopping in Exeter more or less continuously since deciding the move, in one dream I found a ship in a bottle but the ship actually had real life mini pirates in it. Radness untold.

I didn’t find a ship in a bottle and my lord I have been looking for months, but I did find a 80s silk jumpsuit and no less than 7 pairs of vintage 80s shoes. I hardly ever find vintage shoes in my size and was near to passing out with joy especially as one of the pairs are hardly worn black suede 80s Roland Cartier 4 inch high stilettos. Oh there is a lord. And what’s more I wore them out that evening – dancing and everything and they didn’t rub or anything. It’s almost too good to be true especially as they were £1.99.

The rest of the day was taken up with hanging with my dad and visiting my Nan for her world famous marble cake and a game of scrabble. Adi summoned me to the Cavern club which I haven’t been to in ages and I had a brilliant night and met lots of his friends who he introduced me to; to show ‘not all people in Exeter are townies’.

So yet more dancing and drinking and people back to his for more champagne drinking and bed at 5am. I am writing this on the train back and feel considerably calmer about various points concerned with the 2 moves. My main concentration for the next few weeks is building up to the Airwaves festival, the documentary director Chris is having a heart attack as they have added even more bands to the line up, more for him to film even though he already wishes he could clone himself and his camera crew, and possibly more for me to interview. We shall see, we shall see. There is fun to be had.

Slow Progress

I just spent 45 minutes writing a lushious new post for you but then Safari quit on me and didn't save a single word of it. I am so angry right now I could cry.

So this post is titled Slow Progress. this wasn't supposed to refer to the blog itself, rather the move, but its now just as relevant. I am livid but there is nothing I can do about it except rewrite it all. I shall reduce this to bulleted points purely for the sake of my sanity.

Work - I turned down the opportunity of staying in London until March in return for the £2k i need to save. The money was very tempting indeed but the prospect of 3 months in Devon is becoming more and more appealing. Oh I know that it will drive me completely loop the loop by the lack of variety in everything social and I will miss my friends terribly. The thing is I looked at my diary this morning to try and find a spare hour or two for another guitar lesson and I dont have a single lunch or evening free for over 2 weeks. Not even an hour slot. How ridiculous. I need to take some time before leaving the country to relax, get myself out of the London pace, spend time with my family, breathe clean air and take some time to actually plan and save money.

Moving Frank the cat - I have downloaded all relevant forms and information from various sources and my word its looking like it is going to be a pricey exercise indeed. I am nervous about this but also increasingly nervous about finding a place to live with him. The thing is i desperately want him with me to help with any moments of loneliness I may have besides which i don't have anywhere I can leave him for that length of time so I will have to remain determined and find a home for the pair of us together.

Language - Tonight after work I am enrolling at UCL for the autumn term Icelandic course, yet more expense but i am really looking forward to beginning this. I cunningly managed to drop my CD player whilst in Reykjavik last and so my listen and learn CDs haven't been used much except when I'm sat at my desk at work via iTunes. This leads to many a strange look when I start saying Icelandic words out loud to practice.

Airwaves Documentary - Once i have enrolled at UCL tonight I am off to meet Chris, the director of the Iceland Airwaves festival documentary. We are going to run through which acts I will be interviewing for him. i met him briefly on Friday and when i saw the list I pooped my pants. But I must rise to the challenge as it will be fun really and good experience. I just hope I can cope with the usual deathly hangovers whilst 'working' - I can but try.

I am very excited about Airwaves, for not only is it the next trip I get back to Reykjavik, it is also a stupid amount of good sordid fun within a few days. I am having somewhat of a tantrum that Trabant will in fact be here on their first UK tour at that time but I will get to see them before and after the festival anyway and I have plenty of other crazy Icelandic friends playing the festival, Johnny Sexual's debut for example and I made Maggi from Gus Gus promise a repeat of a more than slightly strange Airwaves night a few years ago. Much fun indeed.

Read what i wrote about last years festival here:

review for the electric press 2004