And Now For Something Shiny

Christmas is one of the many things that I refuse to acknowledge the existence of - for as long as possible - then somewhere around the 24th of December, my inner Trash Queen smashes through the carapace of my outer Grinch and I go into a frenzy of strewing holly and ivy around on random ledges as a prelude to the rearrangement of my collection of shiny stuff.

At some point in the new year the vegetation rots and I remove it but the shiny things remain until either the dust conceals the shininess* or I'm in a mood to move them around a bit.

Hence, as we approach Good Friday, I am typing this post next to the fairy light net that I installed on 24th December 2002, suspended among the lights are the jewelled Joy and Happiness Angels and a bloody-faced felt wolf in reindeer's clothing that were made by Ange last December.

I'm not the only one to do this obviously; along the Portobello Road is a shop called The Last Place On Earth. Last December I took photos of the owner sticking boxfuls of old gift ribbon bows around his frontage, I thought this was just for Christmas - but no, yesterday morning I passed the shop and saw that now the entire shop front is covered in bows and he has expansion plans up to the next floor!



*the shiny things are then banished to a box - I believe that the dust will drop off after a few years and I will bring them back out and rehang them.


I left the Pop Flat this morning and had a farewell breakfast with Half a Pop Group and The Child. The Child started scratching her head energetically, her mother's face looked horror-stricken, I said

Oh dear what does an itchy head mean?

The Child was triumphant

Nits and I've got curly ones!

Erasing The Evidence

There was an incident back in January, the evidence in the form of a big discoloured splash on the wall has remained to taunt me long after the yellow and purple bruises on my nose faded. My time at the Pop Flat in London is coming to an end and I must leave my room in the condition that I found it - this morning I wielded a brush loaded with white paint.

I’ll be sorry to go, Half a Pop Group went away for a month during my time here. Since they’ve been back the house has been full of the new tunes they made up during their trip, the Child has not yet been emptied of the helium produced by the excitement of her adventures so we have all been testing the songs loudly for singalongandanceability.

I am also less likely to wake and find myself engulfed in flames these days. My housemate Felicity has a habit of starting to make her supper then wandering off to gaze at the patterns on her bedroom floor - the Child has a sharp young nose and is very good at banging on Felicity’s door and yelling

FELICITY WAKE UP – YOUR RICE IS ON FIRE!


Malick Sidibé

On my table is the evidence of a photographic exhibition I visited a couple of days ago in West London; Malick Sidibé is well known for his photographs taken at clubs and parties in Mali during the 50s and 60s. This show is a selection of studio portraits from the 70s that Sidibé has reprinted with additional handwritten titles which give an extra, often comical, dimension to the images.

It seems that the entire population of the country piled into Sidibés studio to have their photograph taken in their grooviest clothes against a backdrop of stripey African cloth, the men flaunting their fashionable slim-fit shirts (the collars, the collars!) and their wider than wide flares (pantalon aux pattes d'éléphant), the women combining traditional ‘wax’ fabric head and body wraps with chic sunglasses and western-style tops, this is a portrait of a nation at a particular time in their history. Every subject, gazes intensely, proudly out of the frame, even the dribbley-faced child clutching an oversized comb has a dignified solemnity about her.

There is so much to love about this show, superb photography, great printing - and these are the best fashion images I have ever seen.


Lichfield Studios, London W10 from 11 March-16 April

Topsy Turvey

In the Pop Flat, where I stay during the week, The Child has partly grasped the idea that travelling can make time go backwards. When she went to bed tonight she showed me her Christmas stocking.





I felt it only right to say that I didn’t think Santa would be along any time soon

Well I’m putting it up just in case.

I am not working this week and my body is confused. I’ve lost my routine and I’m not sure what I eat when I don’t have to cook. I wandered into a shop and got stuck in the tinned section, mesmerised by stuff that should never be put in cans, things like pasta and sausages. But they tasted so good when I was a child - I bought a can of macaroni cheese.

Later I was in an area with a lot of Asian restaurants, I decided that this would be a good idea for supper, I chose the gaudiest looking place on the street, the others looked a little too smart or too hip for my mood. I should’ve walked straight back out when the smell of incense knocked me sideways, but I am British and we soldier on. It turned out that the best thing in the restaurant was the little patch of bright green turf placed under the glass in the table, I did also enjoy reading the menu which was separated into sections;

Meat
Chicken
Fish
Vegetables
Frog & Eel
Noodles
Rice...

Just as the restaurant was filling up, three men in dirty overalls walked in and went upstairs, soon the sound of intense drilling from above obliterated the harp muzak and made our tables vibrate.

Return Of The Child

I guessed from the pile of luggage in the hall that my landlords had come back from the other side of the world - it didn’t take long for audible confirmation.

The Child used to keep me under silent surveillance but now appears to be filled with helium. Bouncing off the walls with excitement she couldn’t decide whether to be a giraffe or a star as she tried to explain what she’s been doing for the last month.

The parents and The Child went to bed early but their body clocks weren’t going to let them get away with it that easily, I heard animated chatter around midnight and then all went quiet.

This morning I heard that The Child and her father were so wide awake they decided that they might as well go to the big 24-hour supermarket. A member of staff found their behaviour curious and they were taken in for questioning, the father being under suspicion of abduction.

Top Tip: Peel The Base Off A Saucepan In Just Several Hours

Put a pot of beans on then go to sleep. This has the special bonus of making the house smell funny.

Pot Heads

The Australians reckoned that having come as far as England they might as well 'do Europe' while they were at it, they have disappeared, leaving me alone in the Pop Flat with Felicity. It feels like we're doing a middle-aged remake of an 80s comedy series.



Felicity gets back every evening from a job that she loathes, she deals with the horror by smoking her way through a large amount of marijuana, then she gets really hungry and prepares a late feast – usually something involving lots of vegetables and rice. The only pot big enough to hold the quantity of food she thinks she'll want to eat has part of it’s side broken off along with one of the handles. There's a lid from a different pot that sits on top of the one-eared pot and I've got rather fond of the sight of this odd pairing.








So imagine my sadness the other day when I saw that the mismatching lid, had broken in half – but it's ok - I’ve mended it, we only had string and sellotape in the house, I think the string will work best.