Gay Nazi Sex Vicar in Schoolgirl Knickers Vice Disco Lawnmower Shock!
« It be Int'National Talk Like A Pirate Day!In Morecambe Bay »

Stripping at the seaside

  Mon 17th September 2012

A fabulous weekend in St Annes with one of the oldest--I mean, longest-standing--readers of this blog, who made the long journey up from Hampshire, as it was time to give our snazziest slacks an airing at the Soulful Dance Weekender. It was a pleasure to have your company T and I'm honoured and grateful that you're prepared to schlep up all that way.

It's a very enjoyable musical culture to be involved with, more collective and openly friendly than any other I've been involved with. I found rave music promised more togetherness than I encountered, and contemporary classical music's mannered and regimented sociability perhaps reflects the high value placed on privacy in middle class culture.

On Saturday lunchtime, while T went to join the Cod Army, the name given to the supporters of Fleetwood FC, I spent what was intended to be an hour, which turned into two, down the pub. St Annes is a very friendly place and the ease with which people chat to you down there made me think that Alan Bennett might have a point in his unfavourable assessment of the sociability of Lancaster folk in his Untold Stories.

I conceived a dislike of Lancaster I’ve never since lost. Having seen madness on that ward [in the asylum to which his mother was committed], I saw it echoed in face after face in the town. Though it’s a pleasant enough place I find the people there less amiable and appealing than elsewhere in Lancashire, with the possible exception of Liverpool. There’s an openness and generosity in Blackburn, Preston and Rochdale, maybe because these were virtues fostered in the mills; Lancaster, commercial, agricultural and (like Liverpool) once a port, seems sullen, tight-fisted and at night raw and violent.

In the pub in Lancaster, a few weeks ago a man in a local pub walked off, muttering "You are a selfish man". I had asked him if a seat on his table for four which he was occupying alone, was taken. With the effusive warmth Bennett noticed in the locals, he gave me a black look and said nothing, which I took as consent. In Glasgow, or the places I go anyway, you just ask someone if they'd mind budging up a bit.

Back in the hotel, after one of the restorative afternoon naps that we require at our age, we danced till 4am, surrounded by some lovely scenery.

Yesterday morning the cleaning lady came into my room and said (I quote verbatim): "Oh, it's alright, I'll come back later. I was just going to do a strip."

On Sunday afternoon T went off to catch his train. I had just missed one so hung around in the pub. Again I had the feeling that the town loves to talk, and the next table and I had a conversation about heart attacks which was funnier than the subject matter might suggest.

The same people are doing another night there in December, to which Trina is coming. I'm very pleased that I am reviving her interest in dancing which was drummed out of her by her husband. When she was married, she used to have to buy CDs in secret and hide them, since her husband, who liked Pink Floyd, Yes, Genesis, and so on, was very critical of her tastes, which he thought frivolous.

Track of the Weekend was Sean Smith's Paradise. Over such a good system, it did indeed sound like Paradise's soundtrack.


Sounds like you had a far more entertaining weekend than I did. Glad you had fun dancing.

I think you may be right in your discussion of rave versus classical. In my experience, the middle class culture does not really do “togetherness", and much prefers polite and quiet isolation.

That lady in the blue dress has the most mischievous grin I’ve seen for a while, I’d reckon she’s a lot of fun. She wasn’t the stripper was she?

I cannot understand trying to impose one own’s preferences om others.

Mon 17th September 2012 @ 18:08
Comment from: [Member]

I had poker legs. Always the sign of a good night (or in this case, weekend) out. After your recent brushes with the law I suppose a quiet weekend in might not have been a bad idea.

As soon as the middle classes acquire money, what they buy is privacy. Physically, (bigger, more separated housing) and behaviourally (an exemption from moral imperatives to mutual aid).

Isn’t she just. For someone so well-dressed, who was a good dancer, she was so modest and unassuming.

Controlling men. I hope I never become like that with Trina, although I suppose at this early stage I haven’t encountered anything about her that I find annoying (except her snoring, but she can’t help that).

Mon 17th September 2012 @ 22:47
Comment from: [Member]

“…was very critical of her tastes, which he thought frivolous.”

in my opinion, it is perfectly fine to acknowledge deeply differing tastes in music (or art, or film, or books). but within a couple, or amongst friends, to be CRITICAL? this is such a highly personal thing - almost like saying “i don’t like the shape of your nose".

the weekend of dance sounds marvelous, by the way. i am FAR overdue for a good old fashioned hippie dance house party. with the cooler weather, the opportunities increase…

Tue 18th September 2012 @ 01:56

I’ve had a few blogger meet-ups and they’ve all been a real pleasure. Would do it again in a heartbeat. I’d love to get out there someday so you can laugh at how easily I get intoxicated. It’s not very manly.

You’re not going to like this but we have to celebrate our differences. I’m not crazy about rave. It’s anti-music. A blob of noise and an insult to musicians.

The cleaning lady’s strip will cost you extra, I’m guessing.

Trina’s ex sounds like he spent too many years sucking on the business end of a bong and anesthetizing himself into selfish stupidity.

Tue 18th September 2012 @ 02:02
Comment from: [Member]

DF: Yes–it’s the season to push the furniture back, put your flatties on, and warn the neighbours.

Musical tastes–in effect stopping your partner from listening to something is out of order. Especially when the alternatives on offer from Trina’s ex’s record collection are so depressing, introspective, gloomy, cerebral, and un-dancey.

UB: We weren’t at a rave, it was Modern Soul and House, such as that in the example above.

You are required to get in touch if you ever get to these shores. I clearly needn’t worry about you costing a lot to take out :)

Tue 18th September 2012 @ 09:17
Comment from: furtheron [Visitor]

Just to point out I like prog rock indeed love it but acknowledge all other music my wife loves Simply Red, the Script, James Blunt etc. I hate musical exclusivenes

Tue 18th September 2012 @ 12:09
Comment from: [Member]

Blimey. Might give your parties a bit of a wide berth then :)

Tue 18th September 2012 @ 12:33

Form is loading...

looby, n.; pl. loobies. A lout; an awkward, stupid, clownish person

M / 60 / Bristol, "the most beautiful, interesting and distinguished city in England" -- John Betjeman [1961, source eludes me].

"Looby is a left-wing intellectual who is obsessed with a) women's clothes and b) tits." -- Joy of Bex.

WLTM literate woman, 40-65. Must have nice tits, a PhD, and an mdma factory in the shed, although the first on its own will do in the short term.

There are plenty of bastards who drink moderately. Of course, I don't consider them to be people. They are not our comrades.
Sergei Korovin, quoted in Pavel Krusanov, The Blue Book of the Alcoholic

I am here to change my life. I am here to force myself to change my life.
Chinese man I met during Freshers Week at Lancaster University, 2008

The more democratised art becomes, the more we recognise in it our own mediocrity.
James Meek

Tell me, why is it that even when we are enjoying music, for instance, or a beautiful evening, or a conversation in agreeable company, it all seems no more than a hint of some infinite felicity existing apart somewhere, rather than actual happiness – such, I mean, as we ourselves can really possess?
Turgenev, Fathers and Sons

I hate the iPod; I hate the idea that music is such a personal thing that you can just stick some earplugs in your ears and have an experience with music. Music is a social phenomenon.
Jeremy Wagner

La vie poetique has its pleasures, and readings--ideally a long way from home--are one of them. I can pretend to be George Szirtes.
George Szirtes

Using words well is a social virtue. Use 'fortuitous' once more to mean 'fortunate' and you move an English word another step towards the dustbin. If your mistake took hold, no-one who valued clarity would be able to use the word again.
John Whale

One good thing about being a Marxist is that you don't have to pretend to like work.
Terry Eagleton, What Is A Novel?, Lancaster University, 1 Feb 2010

The working man is a fucking loser.
Mick, The Golden Lion, Lancaster, 21 Mar 2011

The Comfort of Strangers

23.1.16: Big clearout of the defunct and dormant and dull
16.1.19: Further pruning

If your comment box looks like this, I'm afraid I sometimes can't be bothered with all that palarver just to leave a comment.

63 mago
Another Angry Voice
the asshat lounge
Clutter From The Gutter
Eryl Shields Ink
Exile on Pain Street
Fat Man On A Keyboard
gairnet provides: press of blll defunct, but retained for its quality
George Szirtes ditto
Infomaniac [NSFW]
The Joy of Bex
Laudator Temporis Acti
Leeds's Singing Organ-Grinder
The Most Difficult Thing Ever
Strange Flowers
Trailer Park Refugee
Wonky Words

"Just sit still and listen" - woman to teenage girl at Elliott Carter weekend, London 2006

Bristol New Music
Desiring Progress Collection of links only
The Rambler
Resonance FM
Sequenza 21
Sound and Music
Talking Musicology defunct, but retained

  XML Feeds

Multi-blog engine

©2024 by looby. Don't steal anything or you'll have a 9st arts graduate to deal with.

Contact | Help | b2evo skin by Asevo | b2evolution