To be Frank

There's a new movie recently released called 'Frank', which is loosely based on the character 'Frank Sidebottom', a comic persona of the late Chris Sievey.  Who????  I hear you ask, on all the above. Here's a link to the BBC report which sums it up quite nicely....

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/entertainment-arts-26820227

I can't remember the first time I saw a Frank Sidebottom gig.  It must have been back in the late 1980s, downstairs at King George's Hall in Blackburn, or maybe some pub in Preston, and possibly Manchester or Bolton.... I was into 'independent music', and would often go to gigs, and Frank was a small part of this alternative scene, the buzz coming out of Manchester... or, in Frank's case, Timperley.

I think Blackburn KGH had a comedy club, circuit, scene, and that's probably the link.  I remember seeing up and coming comedienne Jo Brand http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jo_Brand  there once (outrageous, I didn't like her much, but I've warmed to her as I've got older), and Mancunian punk-poet John Cooper Clark  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Cooper_Clarke (brilliant, droll, twinkling and often drunk) more than once.  Frank Sidebottom must have been on the listings, and it would't have cost much, and what else is there to do in a boring Blackburn on a Thursday night after all???

The fact that I liked indie music went hand in hand with the culture of the North at the time.  The Smiths were in their prime, or just fading, and I had one of the greatest thrills of my life when I saw them live in 1986 in Manchester.  There was a 1 day concert in the G-MEX halls to celebrate the 'Festival of the 10th Summer' it being 10 years since the break out of punk music.  It was a long day, starting at 12noon, and going on past it being dark, and having to run to the railway station to get the last train home.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Festival_of_the_Tenth_Summer

I can't remember the full line up, but I do remember the stage stealing lead singer, Mark E Smith, of The Fall, performing in full scarlet hunting gear, jodphurs, riding boots, and whip in hand, menacing and mesmerising at the same time.  I've been a fan of The Fall ever since, and many more tales hang there, believe you me.

I'm pretty certain the Buzzcocks played, and Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark, then the build-up to the star-billings, New Order played brilliantly, before the lights dimmed, the strains of Carmina Burana stole into our consciousness, and Kapow! the stage was set, and The Smiths dazzled us with their sovereignty, they reigned and rose and were more real than any dream I could have dreamed, they were dreaming before our eyes, and we were there with them and didn't want the dream to be real...

Ah me, happy days, I digress.  Setting the scene for Frank Sidebottom, you really have to understand the rest of the social compass of the time, the Northerness of the humour, his references to the Northern music scene, to the integralness of football to the region, to the normalness of life in a Northern town, and the ridiculousness of the joke, being in on the joke, being part of the joke, being part of the performance, part of the act, the inclusiveness, and warmth of his performance, of his persona, which was of a 12 yr old boy, could be pop-star, would be football star, that awkward age, where you don't quite understand the nuances of the adult world you are on the cusp of, or the dreams you are dreaming, have dreamed and aren't entirely sure you woke up from.

I'm also pretty sure you had to be Northern to love him, to understand him, to get the humour, and join in, for part of the evening had the audience singing along with him, and I have etched into my memory the exact Timperley twang to his end of sentence '... actually'.

So this is a tribute to Frank Sidebottom, and the late Chris Sievey, and a thank you for all the joy they brought to the Northern towns in the 1980s....

Comedy Club downstairs at Blackburn King George's Hall, late 1980s - I'd be in my early 20s

Kat

DIY

Do It Yourself.  DIY for short, and words to warm the cockles of my heart.  I consider myself capable of most things, but also wise enough to know where to draw the line - my talents do not extend to plumbing nor electrics.  But give me a drill, screwdriver and tape measure, and I'll happily have a go at most round the house/garden jobs.

Well, when I say most, my vertigo would exclude high level ladders jobs, but I did manage to wallpaper the chimney breast in Phoebe's room, and tackled the guttering round the playhouse, so 3-4 step height maximum is what I'll stretch to (all puns intended).

I can get carried away when it comes to pruning.  There's almost nothing I like better than giving a hedge a trim (mind the cable of the hedge-trimmers!), or getting secateurs or shears out to errant branches.  It's knowing when to stop that I have difficulty with.

I'm happy cooking in the kitchen, so long as I've decided what to do - it's the deciding that makes my brain ache.  I'm competent at needlework - I can sew and knit, and I've forgotten how to crochet, but I'm sure it would come back with a bit of coaching.  I can decorate - but it's not my favourite thing, as there's so much preparation to get a good result, so that's something we put off for as long as possible...  and I'd like to spend more time in the garden, but life tends to get in the way.  So I keep chipping away at it, bit by bit.
 
As you know, I built the greenhouse myself - the only help I asked for was holding the frame together during assembly, and then Simon checked the bolts were tightened properly, but apart from that I did everything else myself....  and I find myself wondering/pondering/accepting that, for a 'woman', I may not be cut of the same cloth as my 'sisters'.

And I ask myself why this is?  Is it an innate quality, something genetic, something in my upbringing, my values, or, more likely a strange and unusual combination of the above? It is an eldest child thing, this self-belief?  because, I have distinct memories of being very shy growing up (not now!  I hear you splutter!).  Or is it the farming side of the family background, and the grandparents influence (on both sides) of the make-do and mend mentality of struggling through the War?

Or is it more than that?  Something deeper? And I wonder, in this age of superficiality, in the sexist society where women of a certain (more mature) age become invisible, of less value, lost... and women of another age are pestered for their looks, criticised for their looks, idolised for their looks, hounded for their looks, twittered about for their looks, teased, taunted, and tattered for their looks.  And yet others hide their looks away, beneath a veil of dignity, which still gives no shelter from all the abuse inflicted because of how they look. It's the double standard which is confusing, and I'm certain there are no winners.

And it never occurs to me to even think about how I look.  Granted, I make sure I'm presentable, showered and if working in the Library, then there's a quick dab of face powder to take the shine off, and a quick flick of mascara, and maybe some lipstick, nothing too gaudy, it's not a disco after all....

But I have no sense, myself, of being anything other than myself, which is me and is who I am, defined, I hope, by my actions, and not how I look.  I do what I do because what I do is who I am.   For the most part I rarely think of myself as 'woman'.  I think of myself as just 'me'.  And equally, whilst acknowledging that friends and family are male and female, I don't see them that way.  I see them for who they are, each unique in their relationship to me, with history and love and acceptance.  What they've got in their trousers doesn't matter.  What I've got in my trousers matters only to me, and if there's a spanner in the back pocket, then so much the better.

Great.  I've just googled 'spanner in back pocket' to get an image to put here, but all the ones of women/girls are wearing shorts (yeah, right) or cropped t-shirts (highly impractical I'm sure you'll find), and more to the point, they seem to be confusing wrench with spanner, so I'm not going to bother.  Fume.

So, how do we guide our 13yr old daughter through this maze of confusion?  I hope by acting consistently, by telling her we love her (she squirms when I do), by answering her questions honestly, and keeping a conversation open for her.  By treading a careful path between praise and criticism - more of the former, less of the latter, by leading by example, keeping our eyes and ears open, and living a tolerant life.  (Although if the fashion for boys wearing their trousers at crotch level and showing their underwear 'hanging loose'?, is still prevalent when Tom's a teenager, come back and ask me about tolerance then...  I may just have lost it!).

Here endeth the lesson for tonight.

Keep it loose, mother Goose!

Kat :)

What happened to last month?

May 2014 was very busy.  A much busier month than usual, and quite expensive as well.  Bleugh.  My car went in for its 40,000 mile service.... 'The big one'.  Ahem.  It's quite something to be quoted £395 before anything extra, (as on my 14 hour per week contract I usually bring home just under £500 each month).  It would have been more, if they hadn't had me arguing with them on the phone that I could go to Halfords to replace the wipers myself, and save the £30 they wanted to charge!  In the end they backed down and changed them for free.  However, the fan resistor needed changing, as I only had a speed selection of zero, or gale force four(!) and that would have added £100 - I told him I could go to £450, but any higher and I'd have to call my husband!  I don't know why, but that did it, and it ended up costing £450 with the fan resistor and wipers included.  The lesson from this?  Kick ass as/when needed!

Luckily I'd been doing quite a few hours extra, and I've claimed 17.5hrs overtime in the last claim period, and the month before that had clocked up 27 hours to claim as well.  Which is all well and good, but sometimes doing all this extra time I don't know if I'm coming or going.  Granted, the extra hours mean extra money, hooray!  But, the extra hours mean less time to be doing other things - chores, gardening etc. which is still waiting if I don't keep on top of it.  

So, in order to save me money, I finished building my greenhouse!  Yippee.  Let's see, the greenhouse cost £21.12.  Bargain.  Then I spent £35 on perspex to replace the windows in the playhouse, about £10 on bits for the guttering, and £18 on paint to decorate the playhouse before erecting the greenhouse.... extras total so far... £63.  Ho hum.  Cleaning the greenhouse frame cost 2 scourers and 1 pair of gloves, say, £5.  Time spent, let's say 3 weekends or so.  And then once it was erected, and the glass was washed, pane by pane, I discovered that 4 pieces were missing, and had already ditched the broken ones from the door, so 6 and a half replacement panes of glass cost ..... £41.70!  More than the greenhouse itself. Still it was worth it, even at a grand total cost of .... £109.70. Hope that's right, I've done all the maths in my head.  Ta-dah!

All my own work!

So we come to the end of the month, a second bank holiday, and half-term for the children.  So here's the thing. When working part-time, it's a job to have enough leave.  In as much as because you don't accrue the hours of leave (you'd like) you have to be cautious in how much leave to take.  We're planning to go away in July, and as we'd had time off over Easter, I didn't book time off for half-term.  Which means having to pay for Tom to go to holiday clubs/child care.  Bleugh (again).

We did manage a couple of days out - on Bank Holiday Monday we went, along with every man and his dog, to Avebury National Trust.  http://www.nationaltrust.org.uk/avebury/  The standing stones of the neolithic monument/stone circle were excavated and re-erected in the 1920s and there's a good museum, and Manor House to visit as well. I'd recommend it, but not on a bank holiday...

On Thursday we ventured over to Chedworth Roman Villa with the National Trust again....  http://www.nationaltrust.org.uk/chedworth-roman-villa/

Tom's topic at school for the next term is The Romans... so it seemed a good idea to get him in the mood, and a good time was had by all.  The site is celebrating its 150th anniversary this year, and the facilities had been updated in 2012, so it's worth a visit.  What's also good is that it's extremely remote - a good 3-4 miles down single track farm roads to find it, so you think you're lost, and therefore, it's a quiet place as I think some people may lose heart and leave before they arrive, so to speak, which in comparison with Avebury made Chedbury a haven of peace.  The weather stayed fair, the company was good, and the children played nicely.... Ave!

Et tu Brutus?

My favourite part of visiting Chedworth, apart from the amazing mosaics, was the very interesting and incredibly well informed 'Roman Sue'.  She's a wool expert, and, we found out this time, a champion sheep shearer as well, who talks about and demonstrates how the Romans would have made cloth and clothes with wool, the techniques involved in weaving, 1-needle knitting(!) and yarn dying.  I love meeting people like this - crafts people with a real passion for their art, and more importantly, a passion for sharing and passing on the secrets to the younger generation (myself included!).  She's not always there, so do check the website if you're thinking of going - to avoid disappointment!

It's late again, and there's always too much to do, but I'll stop here.  June, for the moment is looking a bit quieter than May was, so hopefully I can keep more on top of the blog.  Night for now.  Kat.  :)