Clogs, steam, art and pace-eggers: Part 2. Steam and pace-egging

City of Wells at Ramsbottom

On Good Friday I made my way to the East Lancs Railway and got a free round-trip members' ticket. I intended to go straight to Ramsbottom, but it was a diesel, so I got the train to Heywood, hauled by City of Wells. At Rammy, I was taking some photos when I bumped into my Facebook friend Stephen Porter and we retired to The Railway for a pint. We were then joined by the Bury Pace-Eggers, who performed their play. All mummers plays follow a similar pattern: St George fights the Turk, gets killed, then the Doctor appears and cures him. There is then a rematch and St George triumphs! It's all about resurrection.

Bury Pace-Eggers at Ramsbottom

We followed the pace-eggers to the Irwell Works Brewery which was rammed, and after they finished, enjoyed another pint. I caught the Union of South Africa train back to Bury, and the bus back to my sister's.

60009 Union of South Africa

On Easter Saturday, it was a bus to Bury, then to Bacup. The last time I visited this mill town was when a DMU from Bury started running there. As I arrived, I saw a small crowd in the town square - I'd just missed them. So, I had a wander round, found the shortest street in England, and to my delight discovered a vegan pie shop in the market! Then it was a leisurely walk out of town where the Coconutters performed in several locations, accompanied by the Stacksteads Brass Band playing some very catchy tunes.

Britannia Coconut Dancers at Bacup

They start with a bit of listening and pointing, then off they skip tapping their 'coconuts' in time with their clogs. At the Irwell Inn (closed) they headed back into town where after a dance in the town square they split into two sides, and I bumped into my niece's friend Adele and family. They gave me a lift back, via a micro-pub Hop in Rawtenstall, where I had a pint of coconut chocolate porter. A great day out.

Middleton Pace-Eggers

After doing nowt much on Easter Sunday, I popped in to Bury Art Gallery for a quick look on Easter Monday and was pleased to find the little cafe was in business again. I then travelled to Middleton  to see their Pace-Eggers. They were meant to start at 12 at the Dusty Miller, but there was no sight, I bought myself a half (pints £2.10!) and in they came, loads of them. I saw the play four times, ending up at the Wetherspoons, where I had another pint (of Swordfish). They were being filmed by BBC4 for a series on Utopias. So, it was back to Bury, and on Tuesday caught the tram to Manchester and home. I was disappointed to find the Ian Allan shop had closed, but all in all it was a fantastic week in the North.

Blacking up
Now then, the blacking up of morris dancers and mummers has become a contentious issue, with the Coconutters being barrred from The Shrewsbury Folk Festival. If I ruled the world I'd do what some morris sides have done and choose another colour of face paint, blue say. It's no good hiding behind 'tradition' when blackface does offend some people today, however unintentionally. The idea is that it was originally a disguise to protect workers from bosses, using coal or cinders. However the Moorish connection does rather undermine that excuse.

More photos on Flickr

Some videos on Youtube

> Clogs, steam, art and pace-eggers: Part 1. Art

Edinburgh 2016

Again, not much more than an itinerary:

Friday 12 August 2016

Travel up by train. Because Southern is so unreliable, get taxi to the station. Virgin East Coast delayed due to person on line at Newark, so had a half at the Parcel Office. Arrive Haymarket an hour and a half late, pint with Sam at Lock25 and go and inspect new BBC venue at George Heriot School. Raining.

Saturday 13 August 2016

£4 bus day ticket to Stand 3 for

12:00 Daniel Kitson presents an insufficient number of undeveloped ideas over ninety testing minutes, basically him talking to biologists on the front row, very funny though, and he's so quick witted.

Bus to Serrano Manchego on Leith Walk for tapas, then to Leith docks for the Dazzle Ship. Bus back to Pleasance, thence to Mandarin House/Star Sea for chinese food and Blue Blazer for drinks then back to Stand 3 (same seats) for

22:05 David Kay, the self-effacing Scottish stand up. 

Sunday 14 August 2016

Taxi to Pleasance for 

13.45 Teatro Delusio by Familie Flöz - puppets and mine in masks, backstage at the opera.

Walk to Summerhall for

15.55 Meet Fred by Hijinx Theatre - another puppet becomes self-aware helped by learning disabled actor Martin Vick.

Pint of porter and a quick look round the art before walking through the Meadows looking for Pokemon, where I put my right leg down a dangerous hole!

Monday 15 August 2016

Art day. After a quick look round Daubigny Monet Van Gogh at the Mound with Mad, 14.30 art bus to Modern Art for Surreal Encounters: Collecting the marvellous to re-acquaint myself with all the paintings from the  Edward James collection that used to be in Brighton, now in Rotterdam. Back to Summerhall for more art and with a comp from Max, saw 

17.40 Molhados & Secos - Wet and Dry at Zoo - Argentinian physical theatre

Walked to Pleasance where I bumped into Jo Neary and Pad and saw

20.00 Pete Firman Trix at Pleasance Beyond - magic, with Sam dragged on stage!

Tuesday 16 August 2016

Brisk walk to Traverse for

13:15 Mark Thomas : The Red Shed - socialist comedy where we got to sing The Red Flag, Wakefield style.

Sunny walk to Book Festival, then bus to Dovecote and Talbot Rice galleries, then walk to George Square Gardens where we met Millie flyering, and home after a pint or two and a bowl of chips - spotted Paul Zenon and Alisdair Darling.

Wednesday 17 August

Walk to George Square Gardens for 

12.30 'Best' of the Fest in Spiegeltent Palais de Variete - with drunken woman (Holly Burn), conjurer Chris Dugdale, Regency comedian Penny Ashton and Hoola Hoops by Flip FabriQue from Attrape Moi, all compered by Lloyd Griffith, who does impressive impressions of diy tape.

To Tanjore for Indian 'pizza' (uthappam) then back to Summerhall for

17.15 Adler & Gibb a play by Tim Crouch about a student doing a dissertation about a woman making a film about a reclusive American artist and her partner and an art dog (played by a child). Powerful stuff, as you'd expect. Then half an hour later it was back into the same room for

19.15 Robert Newman: The Brain Show - with Rob disagreeing with the experts and playing his banjolele

Then it was a final pint and a Mac and Cheese toastie and home. This year I didn't get to see Simon Munnery, nor the Fruitmarket, nor did I walk down the Royal Mile!

Thursday 18 August 2016: Off to the western isles...

Now that's what I call entertainment...

I've just had a weekend of what you might call less popular entertainment, albeit almost certainly popular with Jeremy Deller. On Saturday, I travelled by bus to Lewes, for the Lewes Folk Festival day of dance. On the Thursday I'd been (by train) to the Royal Oak to hear a talk by Shirley Collins on BBC collector Bob Copper, and to have a sing song with the Copper Family from Rotten Dean in the second half. That's what's missing from most entertainment these days - the opportunity to sing along!



I have a lot to thank folk music for: it got me in a pub age 16 (the Albion in Bury, I think it was) - I even stood up and sang a song accompanied by my grandad's mandolin (where is it now?). That exerience got me involved with the folk club at Battersea, and that led to my 15 minutes of fame in Helix. One of the first records I bought was an EP by A L Lloyd singing All for me grog.



So, on Saturday I was greeted by some clog dancers as soon as I got off the bus outside Waitrose. Despite Bill Tidy's cartoon strip, The Cloggies, clogging seems to be the domain of the women dancers and Saturday promised at least four clogging sides in action. I wandered round the corner to another set of sides, to the John Harvey Tavern, thence to the Dorset at the far end of town where I succumbed to a pint of Harvey's Old, well you have to. Already dancing were the Kettle Bridge Clogs with their almost militaristic marching, with bells on their green clogs.

 

Then there were the Oyster Girls from the Isle of Wight, and finally the non-clog-wearing locals The Knots of May, whose band included a Serpent! I love the repetitive music, particularly if the squeezebox and fiddle are augmented by a tuba and drums - and we all love the Morris Dancers smashing sticks to bits. On the way back to the bus stop, I caught the tail end of a side dancing in plain black clogs without bells, which seemed a bit more authentically Northern. I was yearning to ask one of them if I could photo their clogs, but afraid of being thought a foot fetishist!


Men banging sticks from Alan Fred Pipes on Vimeo.


In case you don't know what Morris Dancing looks like, here's a video of Brighton Morris banging sticks.



On a rainy Sunday I was off to Portslade Town Hall to hear a mighty Compton theatre organ. At a recent Dome open day (14 September) I'd come across an organ recital by Dave Davies and was captivated. The organ must be the loudest acoustic instrument there is, and what with added bells and drums - invoked via foot pedals (see below) - makes a magnificent sound. At Portslade it was Christian Cartwright on organist duty, who looked a bit like Peter Kay and told christmas cracker jokes at the end of each set. He's assistant organist at the Pipes in the Peaks.

 

I must have been the youngest in the small but enthusiastic audience - we even had tea and KitKats at half time. The Portslade organ is a hybrid of several cinema organs with the original non-working Victorian facade of pipes - and what a sound! You have to experience a theatre organ live. He started with a Buddy Holly medley, including the appropriate Raining in my heart, then went on to the obligatory Dam Busters March, songs from the shows, a Beatles selection and a moving You'll never walk alone. The encore was New York, New York.

The theatre organ can also be the pub singer of musical instruments and sometimes it takes a while to unravel the tune from all the notes! It is also one of the few performance in which the performer has his/her back to the audience - a closed circuit Tv however was looking down at the keyboard, to be projected on a big screen so the side of the stage. Portslade Town Hall seems to be a very underused resource, let's hope the organ recitals are enough to keep it open. Next one is on 10 November: John Mann at 3pm.

Brighton nudes are Britain's best

In a quiet corner of Bury Fair, back in the very early 1960s, amongst the more spectator-oriented attractions such as the Wall of Death, freak shows and boxing ring, was the Nude Show. For sixpence you got a few minutes in a tent listening to a foul-mouthed comedian introduce various tableaux of naked ladies (well, maybe there was just the one) striking artistic poses, standing absolutely still when the curtain opened. It was more than a poor boy could take, being brought up on glimpses of topless native women in National Geographic magazine or maybe a sneaky playground peek at the mummsy airbrushed photos in Spick or Span. It was how I imagined the Windmill Theatre was, before the Lord Chamberlain allowed nudes to move on stage. It was some time (1968) before I again saw a naked woman, at a life drawing class in Battersea.

So to last night's Still Life at the tiny Marlborough Theatre. Five 'stunners', as Dante Gabriel Rossetti called his models, presented re-enactments of famous paintings and photographs, from the Rokeby Venus (modelled by Francesca Cluney with Emma Sandham-Kings as Cupid) to Man Ray's Le Violon d'Ingres, with Kiki played by the multi-talented Kate Shields, who also played the saw whilst posing! Johanna Samuelson did Otto Dix's Sylvia von Harden, and Lucy Potts modelled as well, in Egon Schiele's Wally in red blouse. They were accompanied by a cute cellist and virtuoso pianist, recorded jazz and projections, and Francesca Cluney also did a beautiful Loie Fuller butterfly dance. On the door and by the side of the stage throughout were two delightful Pierettes and the whole evening was compered by the deadpan gorgeous Rosey Carrick, who joined in with the finale pose. Oh, and there was a performance poet, Dolores Luxedo (bloke), who knocked over my drink, but as I got accused of spilling a woman's drink at The Governess presents last week, I guess we're karma quits!

The night before I'd been privileged to attend the premiere of Beach Party Animal, directed by Joe Murray and Liz Aggiss. Joe, assisted by Max and Wolfie, put on an exemplary PV, with drinks carefully tailored to each guest (mine was a Bath Ales Dark Side), with a child's portion of fish and chips thown in! There were three performances of this beautifully paced 20-minute film that night - each audience (which included such Brighton faces as Louise Rennison and Tony Haas) got the same star treatment and (I heard later) each got rowdier as the night progressed. This too included nudity, but not the Two Wrongies, who managed to keep their clothes on for once. No, it was the naked arse of author and actor Tim Crouch, running into the English Channel for his all-weather morning dip!

It's events like these that make you glad to be alive and living in Brighton, the best of all possible towns. No moaning today...

The Two Wrongies

Watching The Two Wrongies last night - two lovely funny dancers who perform much of their act naked (except for rubber bathing caps) - made me wonder when nudity began to lose its shock value. When I were a lad naked flesh was rare and highly charged - we only had National Geographic, Amateur Photographer and library books detailing expeditions to far off hot places to pour over. I think I remember seeing dancers from Sierra Leone on tv once - with bare breasts! - in black and white! The annual Bury Fair had a Nude Show, that was always closed on the opening night so as not to embarrass the Mayor. For sixpence you got to see a foul-mouthed compere introducing tableaux of perfectly still naked ladies recreating famous paintings. The only book in the school library with the word 'fuck' in it was a well thumbed copy of The Cantos of Ezra Pound. If you did come across a copy of Spic, Span or Health and Efficiency in the playground, the nether regions were always air-brushed out. We had to wait for Paul Raymond's relaunched Men Only in the 70s to see pubic hair for the first time! At college (1965-68) I discovered that foreign films, especially those of Fellini, usually contained some nudity! And my first full frontal was Arthur Lowe's wife (or was it matron) wandering empty school corridors in Lindsay Anderson's If. Then there was a trip to a Soho strip club with the rowing club, where a Wilfrid Bramwell character behind a hatch served up Nescafe from a small tin as we sat in cinema seats to watch ladies, moving this time, remove their clothing. But it was the late-60s and soon there was hippy nudity mostly everywhere. There was Hair and Oh! Calcutta!, though I saw neither, and then we got Page 3 girls - and some of the early ones were quite attractive and artistic, quite unlike the plastic busty teenagers we have nowadays. It is said that John Ruskin, having been brought up with marble statues, was so horrified when he saw Effie Gray's bush on his wedding night, the marriage was never consummated and she ran off with Millais. He'd have been very happy with today's Hollywood waxings. Nowadays, along with easy access internet porn, there are nudist beaches, the World Naked Bike Ride every June, and The Two Wrongies. They were a delight and not a bit embarrassing, down the Basement last night - lithe dancers with a sense of humour, in the Liz Aggiss mould. We saw them on stage, dancing beautifully, and 'backstage' chatting and changing what few clothes they had. Highlight was the 'air sex' competition in which three highly accomplished members of the audience mimed foreplay, the act itself, and cigarette afterwards. Hilarious.

Billy Cowie

I'm not a big fan of video installations, dark rooms in art galleies, audience participation - or dance for that matter - but for Billy Cowie, I'll not only make an exception, but be first in the queue. 'The revery alone', part of the Dance for camera festival 2008 is his best yet: seven minutes of mesmerising movement - on the ceiling! After donning spirit spex at Lighthouse, you are invited to lie flat out on yoga mats in a dark room, there to watch a naked dancer hanging on to the wallpaper. Truly [literally] amazing. It's on until 11 December. Also worth seeing is MyrioRama by Jeremy Radvan over the stair well - him drawing to a dancer's movements (reminiscent of his show down the sewers a while back). But you wouldn't get me down the dirty hole that was 'Burrow Me' even if there were wall-to-wall real naked ladies inside!