The Piano (or A Triumphant Day in Stockton)

I'm sitting here at my laptop typing away with absolutely no clue what's going to end up on the page.  When I'm writing I usually have some kind of idea where I want it to go, but this time I'm just letting it all flood out in one mammoth babble of happiness!

Warning!  The text below will contain descriptions of uplifting, happy times with music, dance, laughter and singing.  Not suitable for miserable gits who can't just sit back sometimes, relax and let the world take them on a nice little ride.

Now then, yesterday was the much anticipated Piano on Stockton High Street, an event organised by Mike McGrother intended to help promote the fabulous regeneration of his beloved town, and to make people smile and have some fun on an otherwise cold, dull day.

I've considered going into specifics about who performed what, when, how, etc etc etc... but that's not what this post is about.  This is more about a feeling.  And besides, there'll be videos out there and it would be so much easier to just take a look (and I know you want to!).  What I will do is give you a few photos and a little roll call, and if I've missed anyone I'll happily add them if you tell me!  The people involved were:

• The Wildcats of Kilkenny
• Ivory Dan McCormack
• Young Rebel Set
• Cattle & Cane
• Southmartins
• Matty's Bistro
• Stockton Riverside College
• Abbey Hill School
• Stockton Town Choir
• Lizzie Purdham
• A brass band
• A silver statue man whose name I don't know, but who was just marvellous (and easy on the eye, thank you very much Mike!)

I'm sure I've missed people out, and in some cases there were only one or two band members, but as I didn't call the register I can't say exactly who was there (and their mums didn't send in notes to get them out of performing, either!).  What I do know is that every last person who contributed was dedicated, eager and just marvellous.

I said this would be about a feeling, but it's so much more than just one.  Yesterday filled me with feelings of belonging, happiness, acceptance, pride, musicality, youthfulness and pure joy.  Before I joined this choir I would never have believed I could take so many wonderful moments from something without even having to try.  Stockton Town Choir feels more like a movement than a group of people singing.  That so many people from so many different walks of life can come together to just sing and be happy is a wonder to behold, let alone to be a part of, and I'm thankful every day that I found this incredible group of people.  I've become part of a community that I never even knew existed.  It really is that, too; a community.

I know when you think of a choir, usually the images that spring to mind are formal affairs; structured, exact sessions with perfection required before hometime, uniformed performances, choreographed movements right down to the flick of a wrist and a click of the fingers.  Stockton Town Choir isn't like that; it's informal, sometimes chaotic, completely inclusive, warm and welcoming, and always full of laughter.  Each week we know each other better and better, and it feels like a growing community gathering with one simple goal; sing with everything we are.  And we do.  And the world rights itself, our troubles melt away, our friendships become stronger, and we return home with a positive outlook and a whole lot of love in our hearts.

Is this too much?  Am I making you feel a little nauseous?  Tough.  Deal with it.  I spent a lot of years being Miss Grumpy Knickers, and I'm making up for lost time!

Yesterday's performance was even more joyful than #smile was back in March.  Today there wasn't just singing.  Today there was humour and amusement, magic, juggling, tap dancing, cream scones, surprises (who knew 'Albert' could play piano so well?!), ballet dancing and hell of a lot of clapping!

For me there was also a tear or two, and they were of happiness.  For #smile I was nervous and apprehensive, and I know I felt very aware that people were watching me.  I enjoyed it immensely and came away wanting to do more and more, but today was different.  The Piano saw me lose myself amongst it all, and as we sang:

I'll see you through your bad times

I'll see you through your fears

I'll see you through your hangups

Yes, I'll dry all your tears

... I looked into the crowd and there was dad.  Right there at the front, looking for all the world like he would burst into childlike sobs in a heartbeat.  As I sang those words they weren't just for Stockton, they were for him too; my wonderful, strong, supportive, unconditionally loving dad, and that's when the lump hit my throat.

But of course it was for Stockton too; a town in which I no longer work, have never lived and only occasionally visit (though I do now visit more and more frequently even outside of the choir), and I happily drive the short distance to choir practice and performances because, well with everything I've written up there ^ why in the world wouldn't I take that drive?!  I've said it before and I'll say it again; it's okay to give to or do something for communities of which you've never been a part.  We do it all the time when we throw money in buckets for Comic or Sport Relief, Children in Need and so many other charities.  What we forget sometimes is that we can make things better with good will too; a song, a dance, a smile, a thank you, even just a nod to someone to show that we're aware they're not just part of the landscape and that they do matter.

Yesterday's weather was a shame.  The rain held off, but the biting, cold wind kept some people away from Stockton High Street so the crowd unfortunately wasn't as big as I expected.  There was, however, a second little helping of music and frivolity in the Storytellers pub in... you guessed it... Stockton.  It's been a looooooooooong time since I enjoyed music and company like that, and I can't even remember the last time I was in a pub.  Shocking, I know!

It was standing room only in the pub and it soon became hot, sticky and uncomfortable, but it was overflowing with incredible music from fantastic musicians, more dancing, more singing, more bemused people when the choir joined in with our harmonising 'oooohs' and 'aaaaaahs', and a lovely little bar buffet. 

  

The amount of dedication shown by so many people throughout the whole of The Piano, parts 1 (High Street) and 2 (Storytellers), is astonishing.  Folks want to make their town a better place, and to make the people who live there feel better about their town and themselves.  I love that.

I've written this without looking at any photographs or video footage (except my own) or comments from internet trolls who don't like to have their miserable lives uplifted.  I can't give you their perspective on The Piano, but you already know mine and it involves a whole lot of love.

Yesterday in Stockton there was music and dancing.

There was a piano at its heart, but there were people at its soul.

Click here for a taster of the fun at the Storyteller's!



The Regent Cinema

The Regent Cinema.  It’s one of those buildings that for my generation, at least, seems to have been standing there alone on Redcar seafront forever.  The only changes to its façade are those of weather and salt air corrosion.  Nowadays it doesn’t even look as though it’s open, but it is.

I remember when I was a little… cough… younger that it seemed to take forever to see new films.  I’m certain it was sometimes months before the new releases came to Redcar, and by then they weren’t really new anymore.  Perhaps my perception of time was a bit warped back then, being a child/teenager and wanting everything now please!

So there stands the Regent Cinema, stubbornly refusing to go away and leave us to our nice shiny, technologically advanced, seating superior, multi-screen, characterless shells of overpriced entertainment.  From the outside it looks beaten.  If it could speak I imagine the words would be, “I’d ask you in but you don’t think I’m worth it.  I’ll still be here if you ever change your mind.”  The voice would sound like Marvin the Paranoid Android, and somewhere beneath the shell would be a little despondent tear welling up, and as you walk past and disappear down the street you would hear the sigh of disappointment and resignation.

Last Monday I went to the Regent for the first time in 20 years, all thanks to a friend who told me that it is, in fact, open and showing current films.  We had to stand in the cold evening sea air while we waited for the owner to unlock the door, but that was okay; we were early anyway.  As soon as I walked into the foyer and was enveloped in that familiar popcorn/velour/old picture postcard smell I felt the history, but it wasn’t that of the cinema’s; it was my own young cinema-going history.  It was the countless fabulous and rubbish films, the slightly uncomfortable dates, the group of friends trips, the family outings.  It was sitting up high with a packet of fruit Polo's, sucking on them then throwing them down to see if you could get them stuck in someone’s hair.  It was the day seeing Arachnophobia, feet up on the seats in front, when each time a scary bit came on our legs shot forward involuntarily.  By the time we left that day those seats in front were a bit wobbly.  Before I sat down on Monday I went to check those same seats, and they are indeed still wobbly (though nowhere near as much as I remember).  I’m not ashamed to say that it made me smile; perhaps partly because I was glad to know that after all these years believing it had happened, I confirmed that it really did happen!

When I was at work the following day telling colleagues about this blast from the past, one of them responded with, "They should just pull it down!".  You know what?  There was a time I felt the same way.  I considered it an eyesore.  It was a scar on the face of an otherwise pretty seaside view, and I often thought as I drove or walked past that we should move on, let the multiscreen, faceless, overpriced cinemas ten miles away take our business.  At least we have choice there, right?

Well yes, we have choice in Cineworld, Showcase and all the other big corporate names.  We can spend all day there and not see the same film twice.  We could also choose to spend a small fortune on snack food so hiked up that it costs even more for a drink and a bag of sweets than it does to see the film in the first place.

This country sees small towns struggling with their high streets.  Shops close and the shutters come down, and as you wander down the street you begin to notice just how many shutters don't come back up again.  Redcar High Street suffers this problem, although the shutters are replaced with boards that make them look less like empty shells and more like am-dram backdrops.  I see the point in it; it's less depressing this way.  Now, though, Redcar is in the process of being 'transformed'.  Someone, somewhere, decided it was time to fight back, and fighting back we are.  They're building a big new swimming pool with a gym, office space, and so much more.  Tuned-In is already right there by the boating lake (which also had an overhaul).  The Hub is still being finished, but there's an art gallery open now.  The new Beacon stands with its HelterSkelter-esque appearance, surrounded by new sea walls, protective little huts with benches for eating fish and chips and getting out of the rain, fabulous steps leading down to the beach where so many people sit and just take in the stunning view out to sea (I've done it myself plenty of times).  Today I walked along the promenade and there are little fountains now too.  Fountains!  There were kids running in and out of them as they randomly shot their jets of water into the air.  The sound of those kids laughing and having fun, and the looks on their parents faces were fabulous.

It's been too many years since I've seen families experience such genuine joy in Redcar.  So why are people so quick to do it all down?  Just pulling down the Regent is an easy option.  The people who run it probably feel like they're constantly fighting a losing battle, and I'm not surprised.  They have a bucket in the foyer to collect money for buying new seats, and I'm sorry to say that despite my best intentions twice in the past week, I forgot to throw some money in, but I won't forget a third time!

People are quick to judge the big supermarkets for doing local shopkeepers out of business and forcing them to close.  The tide is turning, though, and people are starting to shop in their markets again, in their local fishmongers and greengrocers.  These are local people trying to earn a living and serve their community, but they can only serve them if that community is willing to make some changes.  Many of us, me included, have gotten into the habit of just buying everything in one huge supermarket.  Let's be honest, it's easier than trudging down the high street and actually communicating with shopkeepers.  Heaven forbid we should ever become a 'regular' anywhere except the pub.

Going to the Regent cinema is no different.  We're so used to driving 10 miles, struggling to park, paying excessive prices for tickets and snacks, and let's not forget the extra money for 3D glasses (you don't pay extra at the Regent, and you hand them back on your way out).  We're so used to commuting for our work, shopping and leisure activities that we've forgotten to enjoy what's on our doorstep.  I can easily walk to the Regent, and who wouldn't want to when the journey is so picturesque?

Since joining Stockton Town Choir back in January my eyes have been opened to what's possible in the local community.  It seems Stockton has a one-man crusader in Mike McGrother, the doggedly determined man who runs it.  The performances are for the community; they're for the promotion and improvement of the high street and the people who walk its paths.  I'm so proud to be one of the people who can help to give something back, even if it's just a smile to one person, and I've never lived in Stockton.  It doesn't stop me wanting to help make a difference, however small a difference it might be.  I know it's Mike who helped to open my eyes about Redcar.  I did used to complain about the state of the high street, the roads, the lack of leisure facilities.  Now something is happening, and it's good.  I don't know what help this blog post will be for our little local cinema with its one screen, reasonable ticket prices, affordable snacks and downright lovely staff, but I'm writing anyway.

To those who say, "just pull down the Regent", I say think again.  Let's support it and help it to become another reason for people to visit Redcar again, and another reason for us to enjoy what's already right here on our doorstep.

Redcar is changing for the better.  I see it and feel it every time I make the effort to really look and open myself up to what it can now (and will in the near future) offer.  Give it a chance.  Please.  Visit the Regent.  Throw a few quid in the 'chair fund' bucket (those few quid you saved on ticket prices, perhaps).  Enjoy the memories it brings back and let it make new ones with you.

K x

To find out film times, Regent Cinema is on facebook.  You know you want to...

A Recipe for Obsession

Cake.  It’s pretty bloody fabulous, isn’t it?!  Thinking about it, making it, eating it.  Marvellous!

I often used to experiment with baking, but never before to the extent that I do now.  Some people could see it as obsessive, but for me it’s like therapy.  If I can get into the kitchen knowing I won’t be disturbed, I could happily stay there all day playing with dough and cake mix, messing around with flavour combinations and trying to get decorations to look a little attractive, even if not professional.

Caramel Cream Cake



For as long as I can remember I’ve been ‘crafty’, but it’s really only in the last five years that I’ve embraced it fully.  Cross stitch crops up sometimes when I feel the need for complete escapism; take your eye off the ball and poor Rabbit from Winnie the Pooh won’t have a nose (yes it happened, and I didn’t realise until after it was framed!  Perfectionist me was not happy, and until now I’ve never admitted the mistake).  As a teenager I made jewellery.  As a young adult I made and embroidered velvet drawstring bags, silly little Fimo keyrings and South Park figures, and I even used to help a friend ‘grip up’ latex swords ready for selling at live role play events.  In a moment (a few months) of madness I even made greetings cards.



Cherry Bakewell Fondant Fancies



Today it’s mostly crochet (a cute little unicorn is the current project) and baking, but I’m always open to new ideas.  I love to learn new things, and if I can have something to show at the end of it beyond a little more knowledge, I’m incredibly happy.



Baking is different to all of that though, because it’s an in-built need; I have to bake.  I get withdrawal symptoms if I don’t!  I remember as a child that if I wasn’t allowed to help, I would watch mum bake.  I’d see her turn all these dull, lifeless, (and in some cases) tasteless ingredients into something mouthwatering and delectable.  Looking back I suppose you could say she was my Willy Wonka.  She didn’t produce stunning works of art or push the boundaries of taste sensations; she was simply a mum putting a load of stuff into a bowl and mixing it with a whole heap of love to make something nice for her family and friends to enjoy.  But what she made, she made well and I loved it all.  There are recipes I still use now not just because they still taste great, but because they evoke so many fantastic memories.

Caramel Slice

Mum taught me a lot in the kitchen, and probably more than she realised, but what I didn’t learn or inherit from her was my desire to produce something different (she wasn't prone to experimentation!).  I want people to take a bite of a cake I’ve made and be pleasantly surprised or in an ideal world, groan with pleasure!  To some people cakes are cakes are cakes, and there isn’t much difference between them.  In some cases I agree.  I find the more professional a finished cake looks, especially cupcakes, the less likely they are to taste incredible.  There are exceptions, of course, but I mostly find myself disappointed by the stunning looking cupcake with its embellishments and perfect icing, because it’s so often style over substance.  Well, when I get my pinny on (and yes, I do have a pinny!) my goal is flavour above all else.  Once that’s right, then I’ll worry about how it looks.



Ice Cream Cakes (with marshmallow)

I don’t eat most of what I bake now, which means that friends, family, colleagues and sometimes relative strangers are usually the willing guinea pigs.  I have to admit that as much as I appreciate constructive criticism (how else can you get it right if you don't know it's wrong in the first place?!), I love nothing more than to hear that someone really did enjoy what I made.  A direct quote from a colleague this week having had a new recipe Blueberry & Lemon Cupcake, simply said, “OMG!  F***ing incredible!”  Another colleague upon entering the office and seeing the tin (empty from the cakes they’d already eaten) got all excited because she thought I’d brought more.  She looked like a kid getting all excited because she was getting the present she’s been asking for ALL YEAR from Santa.  Her disappointment when I said it was the empty tin being returned to me was clear, and ever so sad.  It made me want to go home and make some more just for her!



Chocolate Orange Truffle Cake

So many people have told me I should turn this into a business but I worry that one of my biggest passions could turn into a chore, and I'd hate so much to lose the joy it gives me now.  Others have said I should enter the Great British Bake Off, and perhaps I will.  Maybe.  If I can figure out a way to be in a room with Paul Hollywood without falling at his knees and drooling.

Every time someone eats a cake (or sometimes bread or pastries) that I’ve made for them and they genuinely enjoy what they're eating, I’m happy.  That’s my sugar rush.  A friend told me a few months ago that I’m a feeder, and I suppose to some extent I probably am.  Truthfully though, I just want people to be happy.  There may not be a whole lot I can do to make people smile, but I know I can do it with cake.  And while I have willing guinea pigs, I’ll feed them.  I’ll continue to play around with flavours and strive for that mouthful of perfection that, when recalled, instantly makes your mouth water and your eyes glaze over.  If I can make it look pretty too, all the better.

Cake.  It really is bloody fabulous!



Lemon & Blueberry White Cake

It really does make me happy to make other people happy, and if their smile gets bigger after a bite of one of my buns, well that's just fantastic!

My cakes are best served at room temperature with a cuppa, and shared with the people I care about.



I had to promise more cake before I was allowed to add this photo.
Thanks Pauline! x

(more about the actual baking is at Witchetty Grub, just in case you were interested!)