a Quick Prattle About This and That

 My friend Deeanna has done a wonderful job on descaling my memory about music. Yesterday, there was a piece in The Guardian about Genesis P-Orridge. I could hear the chalky scales falling to the bottom of my skull. Was it 'Throbbing Gristle' I had seen in '78 ???  I knew that I'd seen Nico with another performer at The Marquee (Wardour St, London). A quick internet search reminded me that it was Pere Ubu on the same stage as when I saw Nico, and then it clicked ... Throbbing Gristle were also seen at the Marquee, but left no impression ... 

The back story is that while I lived in Germany, I returned to the UK quite often between '77 and '80 as I still had use of a flat that a friend was renting from my father. The friend was into experimental music (he even had the early VU album with the banana ... still (and I hope, forever) unpeeled!!! So it was that on a trip (or trips) back to the UK, I saw Throbbing Gristle and then Pere Ubu (neither left a lasting impression), but Nico!!! She was playing a harmonium gifted by Patti Smith. She was Nico ... end of ... except that when she sang, in her low monotone, Deutschland Uber Alles ... some in the audience did not understand the irony and cans were thrown ... using my co-country lingo ... eejits! 

It's a strange world ... I wrote the above while listening to the Prelude to Tristan und Isolde ... how tastes move on!

Finsbury Park Astoria 66-68 and RIP Brian Wilson, Inventor of the 'Surf' Sound.

 Another blog interruption, this time brought about by the death of Brian Wilson of the Beach Boys.

The Finsbury Park Astoria on Seven Sisters Road was a major venue in North London, on a par, I think, with the Golders Green Hippodrome. The main thing I remember about it is how easy it was to park nearby on Seven Sisters Road (how times have changed).

I'm not sure how many concerts we went to there but we never saw the Beatles. We would have seen The Who in '66. I recall little of that concert apart from 'My Generation' and Pete Townsend smashing a guitar into his Marshall amps. 

We saw Jimi Hendrix in March '67 as part of a tour with the Walker Brothers, Cat Stevens and, even, Englebert Humperdink! But memories of Jimi feature far more frequently from Sunday Nights At The Saville.

One thing I'm certain of is seeing Otis Redding sitting on the edge of the stage while singing 'Sittin' on the Dock of the Bay'during the Stax Road Tour (as I recall us calling it) in '67. That was one of those concerts that becomes part of your DNA. There is a pretty good description of the evening here although I think we went to the 2nd performance as I don't recall any police being present. What was brilliant, however, was when groups of black guys got up during Sam and Dave's slot and started dancing in the isles!

Then, in December '68, we went to the Beach Boys European Road Tour - I even enticed my sister and brother-in-law along. For me the Beach Boys were an important 'node' in my musical development but the Californian surf sound was already being replaced by the West Coast psychedelia and anti-Vietnam motifs by the time they toured in '68. Still, I enjoyed the concert and I do have a couple of Beach Boys LPs from that time.

Brian Wilson, who passed away recently, was the inventor of the 'surf' sound and is highly praised for his innovative work as a musician and the word 'genius' is not misplaced (although he was not alone in this).

Travelling the World in Music , continued, An Iberian Interlude

As a Tgirl, if I were to look in the mirror ... shall I compare thee to a Summer's day? No, I'm old and tired and my head resembles a jeroboam of old 'firne' wine of poor provenance that is now uncorked and gushing never-ending verbiage all over this blog! The 'Travelling the World in Music' theme has been fun and helpful and continues. 

Although I do want to write seriously on a couple of themes - post SCJ sex, and a wider look at 'neurodiversity' and deviation from the statistical 'norm', I find the fizzing of the gushing verbiage renders my powers of concentration limited, so I'm returning to music. And here is a 'cold collation' to go with that old wine, based around memories of fado.

Praia de Luz, Portugal, 1972

 Fado is a form of music from Portugal, particularly Lisbon dating back to the early 19th C. It is music much associated with the concept of 'saudade' which has no direct English translation but is about yearning and while it would be easy for me to slip into bathos at this time, the music here doesn't take me there, instead it takes me fishing.

Midtown Marbella 1972

This story begins in Spain, not Portugal, in the early 1970's when, while on a trip to Andalucia, an ex-pat friend took me to a tiny bar behind what was then the small town of Marbella (!) where locals were gathering to listen a couple of guys playing flamenco guitar. I can't remember the music but the atmosphere was electrifying and I became an aficiando of flamenco. Around the same time, in the hope that what worked in Spain also worked in Portugal, I listened to some fado, but thought it rather dull in comparison.

 

View from the Alhambra 1971

 

 

A propos of nothing else in this post, Pauline and I had already had the luck to visit the Alhambra in Granada and that's where the music starts now, acknowledging Spain for getting me to fado, if not 'into' it, with Francisco Tárrega - Memories of Alhambra (also I like the music). A different bit of Spain appears shortly.

 

Praia de Luz, Portugal 1972

  All was quiet on the Iberian front for us for many years afterwards: Salazar's regime in Portugal finished and in Spain Franco died. Then one year we saw that Portuguese was being taught at Kent Adult Ed and we decided to sign up. Another member of the class then introduced us and the tutor to Mariza, who had released her first album. Her fado was not the fado that I remembered and had no time for, or perhaps my appreciation of the concept of saudade had grown. In the following years we saw Mariza in London, Brighton and Bruges. This is a concert, much later, in Lisbon and the song is*Maria Lisboa, describing the dress and manner of a fishwife (who is actually Lisbon city itself and the song a celebration of the city). (* The original link didn't work so I've renewed it).

From Frank Meadows Sutcliffe, Whitby

I couldn't find a suitable older picture of a fishwife from southern Europe, so have borrowed this one from the Frank Meadows Sutcliffe collection of Whitby. It is curious that Maria Lisboa and Molly Malone (Dublin) are considered emblems of their respective cities. Anyway, Maria Lisboa links directly to one of the fados I enjoy most, here performed by Cristina Branco - Meu amor é marinheiro (My love is a sailor). This song can also be found in Galician, by Fuxan Os Ventos - in a more sentimental version?

 

In the 2000's I spent some time in northern Spain, the autonomous region of Galicia - I wanted to visit Fisterra/Finisterre (it has always sounded so much more romantic than Land's End) and experience the Costa da Morte - the Coast of Death. The previous song, in its Portuguese and Galician versions highlights the connection of fado from Portugal to Galicia and reinforces the connection between saudade and the sea, and this continues, but after a further interlude.

The Galician scenery is good, although dominated in places by forests of Eucalypts, grown for pulping. Various routes of the Camino de Santago run through it and as Franco hated it, it remained one of the least developed regions of Spain. Galicia and Asturias are historically linked to the Celtic nations. This can be seen through hillforts in the regions and, possibly, a reverence for ancient Yew trees (that may be a fanciful idea of my own!) Some folk groups, particularly in Galicia, reflect on the Celtic link. The Leabhar Gabhála Éireann, known in English as The Book of Invasions, is an Irish collection of Christian-promulgated myths concerning the settlement in Ireland by the Milesians, who came over the sea from Iberia. To avoid wandering too much away from fado, here is music by Luar na Lubre together with a short story of the title of the tune, Leabhar Gabhála (Torre de Breoghán).

Back to fado - in parallel to enjoying that music, I had come across the music of Cape Verde (through the same loose link that I came across the Malian singer Rokia Traore - mentioned in the earlier 'music' post) and in my never-ending ignorance (rather than my verbiage) at the time I directly linked the type of song - morna - of Cape Verde with fado. It seems more than likely now that there is no direct link except a possible colonial one (even, perhaps, from an earlier African source and thence to Portugal). However, here is a link between sodade (CV) and saudade (Port. & Gal.) in this song Mar E Morada De Sodade which roughly translates as 'The sea is the home of sodade' by Cesária Évora, who we saw about 25 years ago in Bruges. By then she had given up smoking on stage, but still appeared barefoot with a large glass of whisky - she had a fabulous voice.

 

So, fishing? The UK/EU Reset has done the UK fishing fleet no favours. In the grander scheme of things, it can be seen as a pawn to be sacrificed for the greater access of UK agriculture to the EU, but the social cost of fishing across Europe is one every country should remember. The Costa da Morte was not so-named for no reason:

 

 

Just to finish ... 

Cesária Évora again, with cigarette and bare feet  ... Sodade

A Bad Week

I've been doing well with avoiding maudlin music but this week has been hard and next week will be worse. It was on the Wednesday of this week, last year, that an ambulance nurse hugged me (my stoicism had been fine until then) after she and her colleague spoke gently of EOL and we agreed to call the Frailty Team to come and visit at home rather than have Pauline go to hospital.

I'm not going to shy away from this - memory is so important - so, for Pauline, her favourite piece of music - Wedding Day at Troldhaugen - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PDnDFvEl0Mc.

I should still be posting these coming days but, with luck, on more mundane things.

 WAIT ... I can't stop there, and Pauline wouldn't want me to. The last concert we went to was Sharon Shannon ... so here's a reprise of an earlier tune, but this time a set up in Galway with Mundy ... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SNs0vKDvs0g.

Travelling the World in Music

 I don't know ... is this a stupid post? I listen to quite a lot of youtube (it's easier than anything else and it opens a world for discovery) and it occurred to me tonight that when youtube do that thing of playing 'your playlist' or whatever it's called (I really don't want to understand) I realise that the music comes from all times and from all over the world.

Without holding back, two bereavements of loved ones in less than ten years lends the playlist a melancholy air, but since days of 1960's youth, I have veered towards the contemplative side of music rather than the exuberant (with notable exceptions).

I have no one to share with and I don't think it does my mental health much good to continually immerse myself in art that draws out the sadness that humans experience with just a glass of something, late at night. So, what to do?

My friend Deeanna has recently started a blog and has written down the music she and her wife have on during the week. It occurred to me that it might be theraputic for me to do something similar to, perhaps, break through that youtube playlist. How?

My musical taste is global. So, whether it works or not, I'm going global with posting links to youtube.

My first is https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PtmmlOQnTXM as it's something I've known for a while and it came up as I was looking for a tune I know from Angola (OK it's Gambian, but there's a whole world out there and I shall be returning to more Kora music!)

Listening to that and knowing this may be read by one or two people has already lifted me and I'm going to finish with https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_7-PM_4aeE4 for tonight ...

 Anyone reading this - please feel free to pop in a tune or two. 

But don't be surprised if I remove this in a day or so... I'm a very private person.

Day #1 of the new regime! So far, no difficulties in bypassing old favourites. I enjoyed Beethoven's Pastoral (possibly the first classical music I was exposed to, but no doubt later memories will correct that!) and I've played a lot more Sona Jobareth ... just annoyed that I missed her appearing in London recently! She reminds me of  Rokia Traoré from Mali who I came across years ago when I was expanding my interest in music which 'might have' links to Cabo Verde (I adore Fado expressed through Saudade and its CV variety Morna ... but that's all music about longing and I can't be playing that until I've rebalanced my playlist). I know what will come later tonight if I'm too awake/bored to go to bed ... I'm off to Crete as someone has been posting photos of where I used to go in happier times. It's not about longing, but going home; and I might just touch upon Van Morrison (he's tricky - the last concert Pauline and I went to was his in Brighton) for a tune that takes me back to waking up in my camper van at a beautiful sunrise on the Col de Vars, ready for a first day of alpine botanising back in '84.

On hold now while I avoid Eurovision by indulging in movies. Back later. And now, later, as Pagliacci's finished on 'The Untouchables' (bye bye Sean Connery) a film that I fondly remember for de Niro's acknowledgement to Rod Steiger (On The Waterfront) and, of course, the recreation of the station stairs lifted from Eisenstein's 'Battleship Potemkin' (and there will be others that I don't instantly recognize), it's time  ... no late night tonight, but when I linked to Nikos Xylouris - Venetia, another set came up - so it's a twofer, first Nikos, with a mad conducter, singing about leaving Venice (aka Europe) for home, Crete ... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7og0wA_PlUY and then his relatives carrying on that wonderful tradition of song  ... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1sT_iUaa1lI. But's that's not enough for tonight (well, it is actually, now I'm here, but I did mention Van the Man ... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O_AH5q3-vJg.

Tuesday 20/05 - Catching Up: thanks, Deeanna for your comments, unfortunately this blogger set-up seems unable to allow direct responses by me, so I'm adding them in as part of the blog. Firstly, thanks for your comments regarding being wary of too much melancholia. That fits perfectly with why I think this particular blog is important for me - music is very powerful and just as it can lift one up, it can pull one down and sometimes being down is a drug in itself. Having a naturally sombre playlist doesn't help me!

I know a couple of girls from Dundalk, I'll see what they make of the Mary Wallopers - I found their music fun, lively and interesting, so thanks for the link! There will be much music that I don't know and age plays a role in what I can appreciate as so much of modern music is associated with 'its time' ...my last real contact with UK music was in '77 with The Stranglers and the 'If It Ain't Stiff It Ain't Worth a Fxxk, tour by Stiff Records. I did even have the infamous t-shirt for a while. On that note, time to stop prattling and find something from that time ... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BZLpGVSn3fY with Ian Dury standing outside Axfords, a shop I knew quite well! At this time I had just moved to Germany with Pauline and we were seeing musicians over there - Hall and Oates were the first, I recall, ...

//Interruption from next evening - I always 'play down' Hall and Oates, but they were superb in the concert, it's just a genre that didn't electrify me - this was a time of American soft rock that a friend who lived in the States for several years had brought across to the UK - so here's H&O https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bnVXIUyshng//

 ... but then along many others including Lou Reed (twice), culminating in 1979 ... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=16OBckEhwUM  ... Yes, we were at that concert! ... 

 // Another interruption ... I only got to '79 with Lou Reed, but we saw plenty of other people either in Offenbach, where we lived, or down the road in Frankfurt, including David Bowie on the Low / Heroes Tour and the best  performance I have ever experienced - Bruce Springsteen in 1981 on The River tour ... 3 solid hours of energy ...//

But back to the present ... I now have BBC Radio 3 on day and night and that introduced me to several people, the latest being the Danish String Quartet who seem to be as comfortable playing Nordic/Celtic folk as classical ... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KSVVOHHux1U&list=PLE7iwYprcDgz3GtSb1LjZY51w1FoTg1y_ . That's it for tonight! (and the following evening!)

Quelle Horreur!

 A little interlude between carrying on my as yet unfinished blog on my trip to Ireland a few weeks back and my forthcoming yet to be finished blog on my trip to Cornwall which only starts next Monday!

 So it was that this morning was head hair clipping day. I've no real idea what all the shaving terms are, I can only assume that the settings on my panasonic clipper mean something to someone. What's left of my top I cut on No.11 and the sides on No. 8/9, depending on my mood. Up to the bathroom I go as The Swan From Tuonela plays on Radio 3. Top done (takes no time), I switch combs to get to the 8/9 setting when I realise the radio's off in the bathroom, so I turn, switch it on, turn back and deftly run the clipper along the side of my head ... on setting 1!!! Words inappropriate for this blog spew out and a minute of reflection takes place, before I commit to a No 1 over my whole bonce. All I need now is a St Georges flag and some tats and I can join the lads!

As it happens, this might be quite good ... not only for wigging about when I'm in Cornwall but also for my skin (scalp psoriasis) ... but who is that in the mirror?

PHRASES I LOVE - A Running Thread

 I've decided to have a running thread for phrases which, which while having due respect for the events that triggered them, lifted my eyebrows, if not my spirits, about the wordsmiths unusual (some might say misappropriated) choice of language. Anyone reading this is welcome to add any they come across in the comments. I'll add the ones that get my eyebrows aloft!

1. Starting on 07 March 25 - the self-destruction of a Space X rocket (umanned):

 "a rapid unscheduled disassembly"

The wording is, of course, reasonably correct, although 'disassembly' does imply a stuctured process, rather than an uncontrolled parting of the ways of the various components. The BBC is less coy - it exploded. The lightshow was quite spectacular as captured by a couple of people in the Bahamas.

2. Sue alerted me to this description of POTUS she found on a British political vlog:

"About as popular as a hedgehog suppository"

I just wonder what the vlogger thinks about JDV?  

3. 10 March: "A parsitic illegal immigrant"

(Ooops, I should have cut and pasted this rather than try and spell it out  ... parsitic? Who Moi???)

Whoever could Mr 2-shirts Bannon be referring to? 

4.  26 March: I couldn't resist this bit of schadenfreude from Moxie Marlinspike (sic) the founder of the Signal app:

"There are so many great reasons to be on Signal. Now including the opportunity for the vice president of the United States of America to randomly add you to a group chat for coordination of sensitive military operations.”

 

5. 15/06 I came across this a few weeks ago. Whether it holds true in every respect, I don't know, but it does seem that for everything from trade tariffs to threats against Russia regarding Ukraine, POTUS really does deserve his nickname ... TACO 

 

6.  05/07 Not so much a phrase this, but  ...

 

 

 

(courtesy of MSN News)

 ... so spoke the Chairman of the Board of the John F Kennedy Centre for the Performing Arts  ... 

7. A very sad post today ... it's return of TACO man from Alaska. 

8. 21/09 - It's very cruel, but there's this curious fashion going the rounds of women at the moment for very exaggerated eyebrows and filled(?) pouty lips and I read it described as 'cod lips and slug eyebrows'. Yes, cruel, but when the local newspaper has seemingly endless selfies by such young women (often up before a court for minor offences) a shorthand description is inevitable.

 

 

Meeting An Old Friend

 When Barbara, my dear friend who helped me 'become' Nikki, had her health seriously compromised, a national charity, Age UK, helped her find a flat in sheltered housing where she spent her last few years. She had given up providing a dressing service and I never dressed there, but she did let one old client of hers from Folkestone ('Jim')  keep a suitcase there and dress from time to time.

Barbara had a great pal, Doris, who I have probably mentioned before. Doris lived in a flat opposite and their doors were always open to each other. Once when 'Jim' was there Doris called in. Barbara later recounted how Doris didn't turn a hair at the appearance of 'Jim' in female clothing and wig.

When Barbara died, I took 'Jim''s suitcase for safekeeping and let him know that he could call at my place whenever he wanted to dress. I had inherited Barbara's watercolours and 'Jim', being an accomplished and published artist, also showed me the rudiments of watercolour painting.

Time passed, I retired and took up painting classes, 'Jim' called around from time to time, always interested in what I had been painting. I used to visit Doris a couple of times a year until Covid and Pauline's cancer intervened. It must have been three or four years since I last saw her.  Then this last Christmas, 2025, Doris left a message on my phone and once I was past the worst of my annual SAD I went over and spent a couple of hours with her while she reminisced about her youth and the stables she used to run. I found it astonishing how she flicked through photographs she had of her horses and recounted each one's character. I hope my brain's that good at 95, if I ever get there!

Then, surprise ... she mentioned 'Jim'! It was quite clear that when he first appeared she was a bit taken aback. Apparently, he was in some filmy seethrough dress with a slip underneath but then he went and changed into a more formal dress and rejoined Barbara and Doris for some tea! Doris was clearly not disturbed by the idea of men dressing as women and mentioned things like 'Cabaret'. I was in a bit of a quandary ... should I tell her about Nikki, or not? I decided not to as she has only known me as Nick. Of course, had she asked a direct question, I would have willingly admitted it. I'll be seeing her again in a few weeks. Perhaps I'll put one or two pictures of Nikki on my phone, just in case.

I forgot, when first writing this, who 'Jim' was to Doris. She thought 'Jim' was the priest who officiated at Barbara's cremation! They did look alike and I know the Rev. used to call on Barbara in the years before she died. Doris thought there might be some tie-up with wearing priest's robes ... hmm!

 

 

James Taylor ... a quick memory

 I want to get this down before I forget it; it might disappear forever.

Final year at Chelsea College of Technology ... a girl on my course, not wishing anything else, wondered whether I would like to hear an LP she had of James Taylor. I think she lived in a bedsit in Earls Court. (Addition 06/06/25 - I can now picture the street, Warwick Road). So it was that I first heard 'Sweet Baby James' and was immediately, and forever, taken by his music. Some time later I visited her and her boyfriend ... she was going to quit college. For the first time in my life I gave someone else advice. I said to her that she would pass the final exam units, that it was just a few months away (I think no more than three) and once she had the degree she could do what she liked but nobody could take that award away from her. I can't remember her name, I hope she lived the life she wanted despite those last few months ... she did get her degree.

This all came back tonight as BBC2 had a Carole King (with) James Taylor night and memories from so many years ago were awakened. 

February add-on: my memory has always had a mind of its own!!! As I guess with most people, memories spring themselves upon us at their own whim and now I think it important to note them down, if possible, as they provide 'nodes' in life which I can then fit other experiences to. (Curiously, just responding to Sue's piece in her blog 'Sue's news and views' mentioning wild boar sauce brought back the whole experience of a fortnight in Zivaco in '98, our second trip to Corsica - the first was to Lama). Corsican chestnut beer; ancient chestnut pollards in the woods; a helicopter ambulance recovering a woman who horse had thrown her while riding through the village; the house we stayed at, English owned by the widow of a ex-pat farmer who had emigrated in the 60's. Modern Corsican polyphony - our first hearing of I Muvrini, who we later saw twice in Lille and once in London ... more side roads of memory there! Going to a restaurant in a neighbouring village for a pizza and being told by the owner that we should have boar instead as it had just been prepared that day, but was not on the menu. He said it in a friendly but 'forcible' manner such that we knew we were in for a treat, and it was. When we wanted dessert, he wasn't letting go ... he had some cheese which he was sure we would like. We had it (all through our lives it's been very rare for us not to try new things) and it was good. The owner then came over with coffee and asked us about the cheese .We told him it was really nice. "Good" he said, "the man who made it is sitting there" ... at the next table!

2025 ... Another New Year, But Last Year and Christmas First

 Pauline and I had fallen into an enjoyable if short-lived habit of visiting Pamela and Mary in Ireland for Christmas. Pauline's decline in health was such that Christmas 2023 had to be cancelled. Pamela insisted that this year, 2024, I visit for two weeks.

I knew when Pauline died that I needed to be able to focus on things for me. Before then, however, there were other things that had to be done.

Sorting out Pauline's Estate would take a toll, even with assistance and so it has turned out. The clearing of the hoarding in the flat is now almost complete and I was able to get a clearance company to remove full boxes and bags of papers. I also found a plumber who fixed a pipework problem and is coming back in January to refurbish the bathroom. He has also indicated that he can direct me to other local tradespeople who can get to work on the kitchen etc. I hope that by Spring the flat will be in a condition that I can then decide what to do with it. At some time I shall also have to go to Germany to resolve part of Pauline's Estate that is over there!

An early job for 'me' was to employ a tree surgeon to carry out work at the cottage - a first as I always used to do garden and tree work myself but I can't risk accidents now - old bones don't bounce. A tree  needed to come down and then there were the hedges, uncut for two years, they were about 16 foot high.

With that underway, I was able to book myself a week on the Lizard in Cornwall, primarily for walking, but also for visiting some megalithic sites. The week was good despite managing to get a double puncture one day that cost me the next day in getting new tyres (thank heavens for Green Flag). One of the best pictures was taken at the end of twilight and a very long walk.

I did manage a bit of dressing while there:

  

Apart from this old ruin (me) there were plenty of  megaliths, such as Chûn Quoit, to be visited. I have decided to return to the Lizard in 2025 and hope to meet with Deeanna when I do.

 

 

 

 The trip to the Lizard was what I needed: somewhere new, to ease me into a new life.

 I still had little inclination to dress, however, and I was having problems with my left eyelid - swelling and psoriasis.

Roll on to December and I was packing for Ireland. I did buy two new dresses as we hoped to have a couple of nights at a hotel near Athlone. Just before leaving for Ireland there was news from Holyhead - the ferry berth had been damaged by Storm Darragh. At first it seemed slight, but the news just got worse. In the end I transferred to Cairnryan-Belfast. I was able to cancel everything without cost and actually saved money, but it was a long haul up to Scotland and I arrived in Belfast for the dawn rush hour. I arrived at Pamela and Mary's in time for breakfast and to hear further ferry news: Holyhead would be shut until 15 January! I immediately worked out that Dublin-Fishguard would be best for me, so transferred my ticket for that route. Once Stena had got over the shock of losing its most popular route, it was very efficient at re-ticketing. Pamela had bad news - the cortisone injection for her knee had done nothing and she was in a great deal of pain. Despite that, the fortnight with Pamela and Mary was wonderful: I didn't really want to leave and I don't think they wanted me to. We had a chat with Gia on Christmas day. Pamela and Gia have been so supportive through this saddest of all years.

Of course we did get out while I was in Ireland, sometimes dressed, sometimes not. I even managed to use make up again, for the first time in two years, although after the first attempt the eyelid problem returned, so from then on I only used make up to my cheek bones and avoided eye make up. 

On my last day Pamela and Mary treated me to Afternoon Tea at Tankardstown House which rounded off a great Christmas and New Year.

I came home with one new dress still to be worn, but we intend going to Athlone later this year. The journey home was uneventful ... just 17 hours of it!

Back at home, the house was very cold and damp and I spent the first hours warming it up. I found I had but one message of the answerphone, but what a message ... it was from Barbara's old neighbour, Doris!!! I honestly thought she had passed away. I made phoning her the very first thing I did the following day and we've arranged that I'll see her in a couple of weeks. She is still all with it at 95!

I'm taking this as a good omen for 2025.

THE GIRL OF MY LIFE

 It was 1965 and my brother dropped me off at the local youth club where I had agreed to meet other school friends. We all had a single purpose ... to find a girlfriend. So it was that I finally approached a girl who seemed shy (but then her mother was one of the women checking that everything that happened at the youth club was above board). When it was time to leave an older school friend who had a motorbike offered to take me home ... a rather scary memory etched on my brain forever.

The next month the girl, Pauline, and I chatted more and then we started going out together. There are lots of micro-memories from those days, but I do have something more ... a photo from 1966:

Friends and I used to meet Pauline and her school friends from time to time after school. It was a fun time, usually listening to The Beatles, rather than the Rolling Stones (which would have been my preference).

Of course, there was the angst of being teenagers 'in love' at the time, but this wasn't a real issue for Pauline and myself; we seemed fine together.

 ... Pause now for a few months ...

I started this thread in July, it's now the end of November. The pause has really been because everyday life (Estate matters and more) have dictated much of my day-to-day life.

Although I had known about my transvestite (as it was called back then) needs, they were deeply closeted. Years later, I concluded that I had taken on what we might consider to be a 'macho loner' persona, starting in my school years, to avoid people getting too close to the 'real' me. Through motorcycling, very fast car driving and way too much alcohol, I could have lost my life, I could have lost Pauline, but I survived and she was always there to provide comfort and tenderness. We even had a very slight dalliance with cross-dressing, but neither of us really understood what it actually meant.  We both also had dalliances with others, but always 'came home' to each other.

We moved in together at the end of 1976 in Germany when Pauline, a technical translator, obtained a post with a subsidiary of Siemens. I was just mooching about, not knowing very much about what I wanted to do in life. We decided to stay for a year and then go travelling in South America. As happens, it was after 8 years in Germany that we decided to return to England. Now we were both adrift, but I had 're-skilled' while in Germany and was undertaking voluntary stuff in wildlife conservation. This was Thatcher's Britain, but Pauline found work and eventually so did I. Time passed, my work was increasingly demanding which may have triggered an increase in need for TG expression while Pauline's work peaked and then declined which might have triggered old OCD problems that she had. Sadly, by 2003 the tensions were such that we began to live separately, although we maintained a good relationship (this is another story).

Pauline was diagnosed with Parkinson's in late 2017 and I retired at the beginning of 2018. Having already planned visiting my TG friend Pamela in Ireland in 2018, I was surprised that Pauline said she would like to join me, but she had already spent Christmas with me as Nikki. She was obviously rather trepidatious but Pamela and M were great hosts and I don't think Pauline had experienced me talking for so long with another human being every day for the time we were there. I think it was with meeting Pamela and M that Pauline concluded that being TG wasn't that weird. To that end, and with our squeezing in visits during Covid, at Christmas 2022 we posed for 'marriage photos' with me the blushing bride ... to presage our actual marrying in early 2023.

 Enough for now ... but finishing on a couple of photos I love of Pauline:

 

 

Kiel, 1972

In Corsica, 1998

7 YEARS LATER

 I guess this should be Nikki's New Life Part 2, something I never thought I'd write.

 

On 28 June, 2017, my best friend and TG supporter, Barbara, died. On 29 May, this year, my life-long love, Pauline, who married me last year and grew to understand and support TG people passed away through cancer.

I want to write, to celebrate Pauline's life. That will come in its own time.

24/06 - Feeling raw emotions as I collected Pauline's ashes today. Very strange, in the bright sunshine of the hottest day of the year, walking with a carrier bag containing 73 years of someone's life across the road amidst the everyday traffic and over to Sainsbury's where the car was parked. Then home and so, where do I put those memories? Nothing fits, nothing's right ... this shouldn't be, but that's what life is, an interruption in nothingness.

Curiously, at the end of an evening laced with brandy, I find some solace in playing Bruce Springsteen on youtube. He sings with such vibrancy about life and I remember when we saw him in Frankfurt all those years ago, back in '81. I finally have to turn off youtube when, however good he is, he isn't playing with the E Street Band and switch to BBC Radio 3, a channel P and I adopted in the last year. That brings me to Mahler, but he must wait as it's late now.

 

 

 

SOURDOUGH AND AIRFRIERS

 It's been a long while since I posted anything here. There are reasons for this, some of which I can mention here. I did write a couple of drafts on things I have since almost forgotten about, but I want to get to point of this  ... sourdough.

I enjoy cooking and baking and have devised a very successful (IM not so HO!!!), if long-drawn-out version of ciabatta, which I covered in an earlier post January 2022. I have given up the egg wash as it seemed a waste of an egg! The main thing is getting the oven hot enough, which with current energy prices can seem wasteful, but I try and time baking with other oven uses ... usually moussaka. More of this later.

My partner has Parkinson's and has also developed a malignant cancer which has occupied a lot of time - surgery, chemotherapy, hormone therapy and now immunotherapy), but eating is something she enjoys, so I keep fiddling about to provide tasty things. A while ago I became interested in sourdough, to the extent of buying a couple of books which should have led me to Nirvana. All they did was warn of failure ... everything was so complicated - temperatures, feeding, flours ... blah, blah, blah. Anyway, I did make some ferment (this is flour+water which has become bubbly) and found I had some 3 year-old rye flour, so I tried out some rye sourdough. It worked - the bakes looked good and the one I didn't try to knead came out nice and holey (LHS in pic).

The downside is that rye flour is incredibly gooey and cleaning up is very difficult. But, what kept coming back to me was that the ferment looked rather like the results of the first stage of the ciabatta making. Mulling it over at 5am (my usual time for mulling). I decided to treat the ferment just as that first stage. So one morning I took 375gm of ferment and put it in the breadmaker pan and added the contents of stage two: 1/4 tsp of fast-acting yeast + 325 gms strong white bread flour + 1/2 tsp of sugar + 4tbsp of olive oil + 1 1/2 tsp  salt + 90 ml water. This is then put on a dough programme for 2 hrs 20min. I then made up some small and medium rolls (no pix!) and cooked them in a max. heat oven for 12 minutes. If I didn't know, they could have been the old-style ciabatta. Tasting a roll, the slight sourness of sourdough came through!

What this post is really about, 'though, is how simple it is to have the ferment ever ready for baking. 

I never got round to finishing this piece. The last date associated with it is October 2023. Now, in June 2024, I am reflecting on how the title of this blog has run its course. In the first piece on this blog I describe my relationships a little. Now, change is here again as cancer has taken Pauline. 

A fuller update to this blog will follow.