A Question of Identity

We don't think about our identities very often, do we? We choose how we dress and somewhere niggling in the back of our minds we have an idea of how we want to be perceived by others, but we don't usually act out of conscious decisions. We just 'do'. We already know who we are, we don't need to think before we act.

In the last two years my identity has changed. My whole outlook on life, the universe and everything has shifted off sideways in a kind of tipsy, happy, huggy kind of way and I'm much happier because of that, as I'm sure are those people around me who had to cope with the miserable, pessimistic version of me for so many years. But I didn't sit there one day and think, “I want to change. Who do I want to be now?”

The last week, however, has seen me look a lot more closely at myself; my actions, my outlook, my physical appearance, how fit (or unfit) I feel, where I want to be, what I'm prepared to do to get where I want to be... it's all quite exhausting, really!

Yesterday I took bleach to my hair (yes, yes, the stuff that's meant for hair!). I'm not sure what I hoped to see looking back at me in the mirror when it was all washed out, but I did see what I expected; a whole lot of blonde and orange and left with a scalp that requires a few days of recovery before attempting a cover-up. And tomorrow I need to go to work.

My own reactions have been mixed; laughter, desperation (maybe I can use the other colour anyway!), resignation. I was even nervous of dad's reaction. Having last seen me with dark red hair, the last thing I needed was for him to think there was an intruder in the house or have a coronary! Resignation is the one that's stuck with me, though. I did this to myself, deep down I knew what the result would be, and after all... it's only hair.

It's only hair.

That right there is what made me start thinking about identities. It's not only hair at all. It's one of the ways we define ourselves, especially for women (although admittedly men are coming into their own in the area of personal grooming!). My hairdresser said to me yesterday that some people just aren't meant for long hair, and I agreed, perhaps because I know I'm one of those people. It only took me 38 years to figure it out. Walking down the high street yesterday I clearly remember seeing the people not meant for 'conventional' appearance, some not meant for being alone, some for whom a smile seemed to have been invented and who make the world so much more pleasant.

Our identities are more important to us than we realise, at least until something happens to tear it down into pieces. My orange hair is nothing, it's irrelevant in the grand scheme of things. It will grow back, I'll change the colour again and all is well. Identities... people... are shattered by so much more. People lose their sight or their hearing, they lose limbs, they become incapacitated through illness, women have mastectomies, men have orchiectomies and the world keeps on turning, but to those people how they view themselves physically, emotionally or both is changed forever whether they consciously think about it or not. We hear of people being strong in the face of adversity and at the same time the person next door is falling apart. Is that a conscious decision? Does it matter? Regardless of how they came to be the people they are, their actions, words and appearance are theirs. We only spectate on the pieces of their world that they're willing to let us see. Although some of us try to be involved we're only ever as involved as they allow.

In the past week I've spent time with so many people and so many different personalities. I've been saddened with bad news from a colleague and friend, lifted by so many other colleagues and friends, old and new, frustrated by acquaintances, irritated by a rare few, and given absolute joy by people who while facing negativity chose to laugh, smile and sing with extra vigour. These are the people I salute, and the people against whom I measure myself, if only in a small way and only when I remember!

I make my decisions much more consciously now than I ever used to. When faced with negativity or bad attitude I returned it without a thought to what was behind it in the first place, and it never made me feel any better for giving as good as I got. Now? If someone talks to me negatively I respond with extra kindness and positivity. If I'm greeted with hostility I return a sweeter greeting and soften my voice. I do these things consciously; partly because I feel calmer when I do, but also because I don't know what, amongst the negativity and hostility, is happening in that person's life that I can't see.

It's all part and parcel of my identity. Seen or heard, it's all just me. Tomorrow I'll plaster a smile on my face and hope that by doing so, I'll feel better about being accidentally ginger and let others laugh with me instead of at me. Even now I'm wondering what on earth in my wardrobe I can wear that won't clash! The answer is probably nothing. So then, suck it up girl and get on with it!

Tomorrow I'll also consider that with each person I meet they have their own important, private stories, and that their identities, consciously chosen or not, are theirs. I won't judge, but I will think about how I respond. I'll treat everyone equally and I'll be as kind as I can possibly be (without being creepy, cuz you know... there's a limit!).

There's one person out there who comes to mind, and his first piece of advice to a ten year old boy when he met his hero was to be nice. Two months later he proved that he practices what he preaches, and that same ten year old boy is the proud owner of a personally hand-written letter meant just for him.

Whatever else you do tomorrow, be nice to someone whether you think they deserve it or not. And if you see me walking down the corridor and think, “Oh crap, it's like she's wrapped her head in a peach!”, feel free to say it or not, but please... if you say it, say it nicely!

Thank You For The Music

It was only as I was sat here this morning drinking my second coffee of the day that I realised just how large a part of my life music has become.

I've always loved music, of course I have. I think it would be difficult to find someone out there who doesn't love at least one type of music. I have my favourite artists and they've changed over the years as I've matured, but those lost as favourites will never be considered any less important to the memories of my distant adolescence. It may not have taken me long to realise that Jason Donovan's songs were bland and lacking any emotion and soul, but hearing one of those terrible songs now still transports me back to another world; my younger world of new loves, nicking out of school at lunchtime to avoid school dinners, first kisses, school exams and 2-for-a-penny Mojo's.

Anyone who knows me well knows of my love of David Bowie. I first took him seriously when I was 15 years old. I saw Labyrinth at a special repeat screening at the cinema a couple of years after its release. Admittedly my primary reasons for giving his older music a listen were the tights and make-up, but something in his voice that day gave me goosebumps and it had never happened before, and rarely since.

My first experience of Bowie's real music (not the pop/mainstream stuff of the 80's) was when I borrowed Aladdin Sane from someone for whom I used to work. I felt honoured that I was allowed to take this beautiful vinyl album home and listen. When I got home I went straight to my room, closed the door, put the needle on that most wondrous spinning disc full of promise, and when the music played I felt elated to have discovered him. I even felt slightly nervous because, quite frankly, was I supposed to like this? The disjointed, erratic but still melodious style of piano that Mike Garson played was completely alien yet absolutely right. To this day I hear the album and I'm back in my old room, feeling excited and scared and ever so chuffed with myself for finding this musical genius!

David Bowie – Aladdin Sane

Since that day my mind has been a lot more open to bands I've never heard of and to those that peers and/or society told me I shouldn't like, whether it be down to my age or my other musical tastes. Over the years I learned to accept that in order to fully enjoy the music I choose I need to stay true to myself. It meant that at the age of 33 I finally admitted I love jazz, and now my iPod is full of Ella Fitzgerald, Stacey Kent, Eartha Kitt, The Puppini Sisters, Caro Emerald, Louis Armstrong, Slim Gaillard, all alongside such greats as Foo Fighters, Dolly Parton, Jace Everett and Paloma Faith. My music taste is eclectic, but it's mine and I make no apologies or excuses, and nor would I expect you to explain your music tastes to me.

Eartha Kitt – C'est Si Bon

Foo Fighters – The Pretender

Paloma Faith – Just Be

But things change. It seems that music starts to lose its significance with us as adults to some degree, and certainly for some more than others, and I had no idea it had happened to me until recently.

For some people music does remain an essential part of their lives, whether it's playing an instrument or living each day with a soundtrack to their lives running through their heads. Some of us don't seem able to walk five minutes down the street without mp3's blasting straight into our ears.

For me, however, music had started to become a background noise. It was always there and always heard, but I stopped really listening. Then I joined Stockton Town Choir back in January and my focus shifted more significantly that I realised. In fact it took six months for me to see its significance and importance.

The background noise of music was suddenly right there in front of me. It was surrounding me, pulling me in, and I was suddenly being hugged by a huge warm and comfy blanket of “welcome home”. I was comfortable and happy from the first day, albeit I was a tentative singer for a while. Now, though, it's a part of who I am and it's brought even more music to my life than I ever thought possible.

The community that both surrounds and is the choir is phenomenal. I've made a lot of friends who would never have been part of my life otherwise, and on top of that I've been introduced to more and more music and it's returned the passion I'd previously lost.

There are musicians, bands, individuals and moments that I will never forget...

The enthusiasm, passion and drive of Mike McGrother who leads us into fun, challenging performances in the unlikeliest of places.

The goosebumps that so rarely happen when I listen to a singer returned on our big rehearsal night for #smile at Stockton Riverside College. Joe Hammill stood, one single voice in one large room full of people, and he sang so hauntingly beautiful that I could only listen while a lump formed in my throat. To this day I'm not sure how I remembered to sing. Then the terror and joy of us all performing with him (and others) on Stockton High Street!

#smile

The introduction of new bands like Fake Major and Cattle & Cane, who I knew instantly should already have sky-rocketed to fame and fortune; those who lose themselves in their music and make you forget, for a short while at least, that anything exists outside of that moment, in that room, with those melodies and voices.

Fake Major – Little Researcher

Cattle & Cane

The sheer joy of watching Infant Hercules (the male voice choir also led my Mike McGrother) grow in solidarity, strength and harmony over three months. Their performance at Saltburn Theatre with the Wildcats of Kilkenny was perhaps beyond any expectations they even had of themselves. It was powerful, beautifully so, but also carried with it warmth and pride, and I can recall no finer performance from those gutsy blokes!

 

Infant Hercules @ Saltburn Community Theatre
 

I've been mesmerised by the incredible musicianship of Gordie MacKeeman and his Rhythm Boys. What they can do with a double bass, a couple of guitars, a banjo and a fiddle is something very special. Add to that the lively and highly accomplished level of tap/clog dancing and the whole room was blown away.

 

Gordie MacKeeman and his Rhythm Boys

I've had inspiration thrust upon me by watching talented, enthusiastic musicians play, to the point where I once again picked up my cello and attempt to make some kind of acceptable noise that doesn't make dogs bark and babies cry.

There have been many, many moments of joy, goosebumps and feelings of solidarity with both old and new friends, and old family members (sorry dad!), but to list them would be to bore you rigid.

My point for this post isn't that 'choir is great, everyone should try it', because that would just be daft. It was and continues to be right for me, and I'll keep going as long as I possibly can. My point is about the music itself and what it can give you.

I spent a lot of years taking very little notice of the music that surrounded me, and because of that I lost some of the joy in my life. Open up your ears and your minds, listen to bands you don't know anything about, try music you never expect to enjoy, and all the while listen... really, really listen...

Try telling me that you don't have a song that instantly lifts your spirits and makes you smile. I know somewhere in your collection there's one that brings tears to your eyes despite you not knowing why. There's a song there, too, that makes you feel comforted. And don't forget the one that makes your adrenalin pump faster and harder until your lead foot makes you speed down the motorway faster than you know you should.

Music is everywhere. We have so many songs on our players now that we can barely choose what we want to play. When you do finally make a choice don't forget to listen to it, enjoy it, appreciate it, and let it speak to you, enrich your life and make your world even more special.

And now, for the finale...

 

The Big Lunch 2013 & good vibes

Did you know that yesterday, Sunday 02 June, was The Big Lunch?  Were you aware such a thing existed?  Did you realise that anything was happening in your area?  Well, something was and it was fabulous.

First, everything you need to know about this national event is here but in a nutshell, "The aim is to get as many people as possible across the whole of the UK to have lunch with their neighbours once a year in a simple act of community, friendship and fun."

Well, what fun we had!

There was wonderful (very) spicy food provided by Matty's Bistro, in itself a worthwhile endeavour teaching young people skills that they can go on to develop in paid jobs, and it's been shown that these young people do go on to paid work in kitchens thanks to the work of Matty's Bistro.  I've talked to a couple, too, and I can honestly say they're intelligent, enthusiastic, funny people who absolutely deserve this chance they've been given.  I, for one, will show my support for this in any way I can, even if it's only buying a pie or two when they have a stall in the market on Stockton High Street.  If you see their stall please do stop, buy some pies and have a chat.  You'll be glad you did!

But anyway, I digressed.

The Big Lunch.  Can you believe that Stockton Central Library allowed us in on a Sunday to eat, sing, dance, be merry and cause chaos to their otherwise calm, peaceful lives?  Well, they blinkin' well did, and what an afternoon we had!

Infant Hercules, a male voice choir, regaled us with their rich, harmonious voices.  This was their first proper performance having not been formed all that long ago, but you would never have known it; they were beautifully moving.  It almost made me wish I was a man.  Almost!  I confess that I'd miss shoes and handbags too much.

Events like this are what make me so proud to be part of Stockton Town Choir, as we also joined in with the always impressive Wildcats of Kilkenny, along with Infant Hercules.  I can only speak for myself, but singing We Shall Overcome for so many lovely people and in view of recent events gave me an extra sense of belonging, community and pride in what we were doing.  I do hope it helped a few others, if not everyone else, to feel the same.

The Wildcats of Kilkenny then continued with a few songs of their own in the only way they know how; with fun, laughter, energy, incredible musicianship, audience participation (those poor, poor Yr 6's!), dancing, jumping and just a tiny bit of chaos.



Wildcats of Kilkenny @ The Big Lunch, Stockton Library 2013

Just another little aside here.  It's easy sometimes being part of the choir to forget that Wildcats frontman, Mike McGrother, isn't just a ball of enthusiastic energy.  He's also an incredible musician and infectious performer.  The rest of the Wildcats could be easily overlooked with such a force of nature among them, but as a whole they work beautifully well together and their longevity is testament to this.  I can't remember a time when the Wildcats weren't on the bill somewhere locally, and especially when it comes to events like SIRF and Intro Festival (previously Middlesbrough Music Live) they wouldn't be the same without them.  There are a number of reasons why, after over 20 years, I decided to pick up my cello and attempt to play again.  It was partly because I wanted a new challenge, for something to stimulate my senses, with a desire to re-awaken a passion for something that I used to be reasonably okay at, at least in my adolescent head.  The final push towards my decision was watching the Wildcats, Cattle & Cane, Young Rebel Set and others perform for The Piano two weeks ago both on the high street and in The Storytellers, but especially the Storytellers.  I may not play well (I'm pretty much back to being a learner, after all), but by hell I'm enthusiastic.  I do feel it appropriate at this point to apologise to my neighbours; the cello is not a quiet or subtle instrument and I even make myself cringe!

Anyway, back to business (again).  The Big Lunch was "... to get as many people as possible across the whole of the UK to have lunch with their neighbours once a year in a simple act of community, friendship and fun."  I can say with absolute certainty that this was achieved.  We ate, talked, laughed, sang, danced, and laughed and sang some more.

As Sunday afternoons go in a library, I'd say it's the best I've ever spent.

Should we stop there?  Absolutely not!  A sense of community doesn't have to be a huge gesture involving hundreds of people, as wonderful as it feels to be part of that (and I hope that doesn't stop).  A sense of community can be formed with small gestures of kindness and inclusivity, whether it's taking homemade cakes into work to share with colleagues, taking a few moments to talk to your neighbours or even just smiling and saying hello to people as you walk past.

Take a moment and consider what would make you feel like part of a real community again, and if you can achieve it, do it.  If you need help to achieve it, seek help and do it.  There are more people out there than you think who are eager to make our world a little more pleasant, but you'll never see them if you don't look up from your phone at what's around you, and you'll never hear them if you don't stop, remove your earphones and take the time to listen.

Yesterday I made myself stop.  I (mostly) put away my phone and I watched, listened, took part and had a blast.  Thankfully a few other people took photos and videos of The Big Lunch, and the links are below.  Look, watch, enjoy!

Photos

Video - Wildcats of Kilkenny

Video - Wildcats of Kilkenny - Nellie the Elephant


If you decide you want to be part of Infant Hercules or Stockton Town Choir, take a look below for meeting days/times (though you may want to check before attending, just in case summer holidays/football matches cause alterations):

Stockton Town Choir - Georgian Theatre Stockton, Wednesdays 6-7pm (from about 5:20pm for a bite to eat in Green Dragon Studios)

Infant Hercules - Red Lion pub, Norton, Thursdays from 8pm

A final aside.  This afternoon I was walking down Redcar High Street and was pleased to see one of the shops being refitted ready to open as Re-Loved.  I've never heard of it before, and someone else was asking what it's all about.  Briefly, it's something set up to help young people in the local area but they explain it nicely here.  It's great to see something positive in Redcar for young people, and the guy talking about it (who was also repainting the shutters on the shop) was so passionate about the positive effect it already has.  Redcar's own Mike/Matty perhaps!

I opened my eyes and my ears and found something positive, just like I said could happen earlier (I typed that before I walked out the door this afternoon).  Have a peak outside, it's becoming rather nice out there!

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!)

A smile is never far away

For the last few days I’ve found myself in an unexpected and unpleasant slump.  I can’t explain why, what caused it (if anything) or what it will take to bring me out of it.  I usually just realise in a flash that I’m myself again.

Someone close to my heart often says “You can’t be anyone but you”, but for some people it’s not as simple as that.  Some of us feel like we have a tiny person inside us who takes over the mood switches in our brain and sets them all to ‘DANGER! DANGER! EXPLOSION IMMINENT!”.  At these moments we really don’t feel like ourselves, and at these moments we say or do things, or we give a look to someone that betrays the person we’re trying to be; the nice, affable, helpful, friendly person.  At these moments we don’t even like ourselves and it can last for hours, days, weeks or worse.  We may be on a knife’s edge and can tumble down into what feels like an endless well of sobs in a nanosecond; into the kind of crying that drains your energy so much that all you want to do is sleep for a week.  You don’t want to eat, either.  You certainly don’t want to see anyone because you know your eyes will give you away and they’ll ask what’s wrong or, so much worse, they'll try to hug you.  This ultimately makes things worse.  Hugs should make things better shouldn’t they?  Yet at these moments you’d rather scratch out your own eyes than accept a hug.

But this is a happy blog.  This is a place for positive thoughts, uplifting stories, motivational ramblings, and babbling from the mundane to the downright insane, just as long as it makes someone smile.

A lovely new friend in the choir recently described me as being a positive person.  Am I?  Really?  I don’t see myself that way so it came as a bit of a surprise.  This blog is more than just somewhere for some nice things amongst all the nastiness that’s so prevalent now; it’s somewhere I can go to remind myself that life’s not that bad really, as long as you know where to look.

Every last one of us takes things for granted, whether it’s the love of a partner, health, or even just the fact that on a bank holiday in the UK it will rain.  Especially if you’re on holiday.  If you’re on holiday in a tent it’s pretty much guaranteed.

So what of those tiny, seemingly insignificant things that we so rarely notice?  There are things we experience every day to which we never give a second glance or a considered thought.  These are the things that help to make every day that bit more enjoyable (and for some, bearable), but if we don’t take the time to notice them they’re gone in an instant.  Moments like this are lost forever; moments of beauty, relived memories, opportunities.  Gone.

I don’t claim to be any kind of expert in anything at all.  Really, nothing.  I’m a jack of all trades, master of none, and that’s fine.  This, however… this is important.  This helps us smile in moments when we need it the most and sometimes in moments we never anticipated, and that makes them even more special.

So in the spirit of my own words, I sat here today and considered what in the last few days, amid all the turmoil in my head, has made me feel good.

The smell of chlorine when I walked into the swimming pool this morning.  I haven’t been for a couple of weeks, partly down to laziness and partly my body complaining a little too much.  This morning I walked from the changing rooms towards the pool and I felt the growing warmth of the water, then suddenly there was the smell of the chlorine.  It made me feel safe and comforted, like someone had wrapped a huge fluffy towel around me and was hugging me.  It surprised me, because I didn’t know it could make me feel that way, which just made me sigh and smile contentedly to myself.

The warmth of the sun on my skin and the cold, biting wind.  At lunchtime today I went for a walk around the perimeter of the hospital, something I do often if for nothing else to blow away the cobwebs, regain some perspective, and in rare cases calm down.  It's a little piece of free therapy as well as an extra mile's worth of exercise.  Today has been beautifully sunny (for the most part), and lunchtime was glorious.  There was also a biting cold wind, and for the whole of my walk I revelled in the contrasts between the two.  My skin doesn't take kindly to the sun, even when protected, but today I didn't notice.  It was wonderful; the springtime warmth of a sun we almost forgot was up there, together with gusts of sharp wind that hurt my fingers.  I could've stayed out there all day.

The first stretch of the day.  I spent a lot of years not being able to stretch properly when I woke up because my back would lock out so easily.  It still does sometimes, and my trepidation when it comes to a bloody good morning stretch is now just another survival technique.  Except this morning, when my body took over and my brain didn't have time to yell, "Whoa! Wait!  Nooooo!  You'll hurt yourself!".  Oh my goodness, I felt like I hadn't stretched like that for years, and it's entirely possible I hadn't.  There really is no mistaking; a good morning stretch perks you right up!

The sound of the air bubbles when I'm swimming underwater.  Sometimes it catches me off guard and I stifle a little giggle.  It reminds me of blowing bubbles in my drink when I was a kid, and the mock disapproving look from Our Mam.  How could that not make me happy?

Scratching away an itch.  I don't need to elaborate.  It's a blimmin fabulous feeling!

The feeling of pure abandon when lost in the singing of a favourite song.  For me this usually happens in the car, because apart from with the choir it's the one time I can really just let it rip.  Oh, it's fantastic.  I even stopped caring what other drivers think.  If they look at me bemused or laugh, well at least they're smiling.  If they turn their music on and do the same and start singing, again they'll be smiling.  I still have moments of being self conscious, but most of the time I don't care anymore.  Let them laugh if they want; I'm having fun!

Feeling and hearing my stomach growl from hunger.  Don't get me wrong, this isn't deprivation-type hunger.  It's just normal "I'm very ready for my lunch now, thank you very much" hunger.  I spent a lot of years not feeling that because let's be honest, I ate too much!  When I feel it now I like it.  It reminds me I'm doing something good for myself.  Then I go and eat, and everything tastes so much better than it used to.  I savour every mouthful in a way I never did before.

Having someone say they love me even though I've been a pain in the backside.  When my moods hit me, like for so many other people, there's always one person I know will say they love me and mean it.  Many people think it, yes, but few say it.  Even fewer say it so often that you start taking it for granted.  In a moment of sad today, I stopped taking it for granted and it lifted me so much higher than I thought I could be in that moment.  Don't underestimate its power.  When it's said without agenda and straight from the heart there's nothing more wonderful than those few little words, regardless of the language in which it's said.

These are only a few things that made me smile recently.  I could go on forever, but you all need to go and do the ironing or watch Masterchef, so I won't bore you with them for the moment.  One day I might tell you a few more, perhaps when I need reminding myself that life doesn't have to be sad, frustrating, irritating, stressful, difficult or full of sorrow.

I try my best now to take notice of what's around me and how I feel about the little things.  It helps me stay focussed on the positives.  Even though the first part of this post didn't sound like it, I'm smiling now.  I was smiling on my lunchtime walk and when I went for my swim.  I was smiling when I was singing at the top of my voice and when I finally got rid of that darned itch!  And I'm absolutely smiling now!

Take some time.  Concentrate on the sensations, the smells and the tastes you take for granted every day.  I promise you'll smile more often.  You will.

Tonight I ate a home-made meringue like mum used to make, and with every spoonful I got closer and closer to the family BBQ's where anyone who wanted could just drop by.  And there, right in from of Our Mam, alongside a tower of waiting empty bowls was the giant pavlova filled with cream and summer fruits, and by god did I ever smile at that memory!