On this day in 1979

When I transcribed this I was using images of my journal pages and some of them were blurred. I need to go back and add the beginning of this entry! 

But I was at the Whisky, hanging out outside, then at the Hong Kong, again mostly hanging outside or in the little bar next door, then back at the Whisky, where 999 were playing but I didn't go in.

Some of this is quite embarrassing and confusing, but there's a gem in there that has nothing to do with my complicated love life. 

Rotten Egg was Greg Salva, guitarist of the Mau-Maus, at this time my ex. The other Greg was Greg Williams from The Others, later in the Weirdos, another ex. They both were friends with Debbie, who I later became good friends with, and who much later married Greg Salva, who died in 1993. (If anyone remembers her or even knows her last name I would love to get back in touch with her!) 

Andy is Andy Sevrin I think. He didn't drive then so I was always giving him rides. Peanut Killer, as I know I have explained in another post, was Danny Shades, another free taxi customer. (Again, if anyone knows his whereabouts, let me know!) 

I don't know who was playing at Madame Wong's and I had been there many times, but I guess now I was banned for looking like a "punk locker."

Slim is Rick Wilder and Earl is Rick Sherman, my squeeze at the time. I don't know why we weren't talking to each other, as I am famously easy to get along with, but I've also been told I'm a mystery!

Craig is Craig Stoker; he lived in Long Beach which was another 20 miles out of the way so I didn't like having to give him lifts all the time, but I did.

6 July 1979

Jill came up and at first I couldn’t speak to her but then I accepted her apology. She gave me a white and handed me a beer to wash it down with and it had a cigarette in it!!! UGH!!! That was the sickest thing I ever drank!

Well, then I saw Rotten Egg. He was with Debbie. I got so upset cuz the two Gregs were talking to each other like old pals and then Debbie came up and put her arms around both of them.

Pink Section stunk. I told Andy I’d give him a ride home. We went out and I asked Greg (who was also out there) how he’d broken his finger again, and Debbie said, “He was defending ME…” and I got all mad. He was asking Andy to join the Mau-Maus.

We also gave Peanut Killer a ride. We walked by Madame Wongs, and PK said you could just walk in and he did. Then Kathy and I tried to and the asshole said, “No punk lockers! Go to the udder crub!” I got SO MAD!!!

So we went back to the Whisky. When I was standing on the corner some Mau-Maus started crossing the street. Slim’s hair was blue and at first both Jennie and June thought that Earl was Greg! I looked the other way and they stood about 10 feet away. Jennie went up and asked Earl why he wouldn’t talk to me and he said, “Tell her to come up to me.” Stubborn pride. [Am I referring to him or me?!]

Craig and I crossed the street to fill the [indecipherable] and he told me to be asexual and not to like Earl cuz he’s a Mau-Mau. But then he said, “I know you’re not gonna stop though, are you?”

I forgot to say that at the Hong Kong I met Ian from Preston. June got mad – said I was flirting with him, but I did no such thing! [Was he having a thing with June? I never even knew how to flirt!!]

Well, Earl left without us speaking. Perry and I watched them walk off.

Jennie invited the Mau-Maus to her “party.” I wonder if they went; they might have got there before anyone else, cuz we had to go by Lana’s first.

I was so depressed. At least I didn’t have to drive Craig home.

With Earl. This photo booth photo is from around the time of this journal entry. We kind of look like we're not speaking to each other here, but things were fine that weekend.

On this day in 1977 - 4 July

[Jade was visiting from Texas and staying at my house. Our friends Mary, Helen (Killer) and Trudie were still in New York. Tiger was the name of my boyfriend. Apparently Backstage Pass played this night too, but we missed them. Did the Quick play too? They all seemed to be there...]

Today Jade and I went to the beach – nay! We ate at the block party – exciting! – and Jade had to explain punk rock to people.

I hope Tiger’s not mad that we didn’t stop by cuz we were late. But then Jerry [Satinsky - I think he was meant to get us in free] wasn’t even there! Jade didn’t want to go to the fireworks anyway, and I got mad. [Not sure what fireworks these were!]

So we got in [to the Starwood], and played pinball with Jerry. We both won once. Then Paul Hufsteter kept staring at me and I showed him my buttons, but that’s not what he was looking at – he goes, “You know you have a perfect figure – you really do…” Oh, won’t Killer be jealous!

Anyway I left Jerry there talking. Jade and I left. We went to Thrifty’s and they were out of film but I wouldn’t have been able to take pictures anyway. We walked by the Whiskey and the guy let us go in for a minute. You could even walk right backstage! We didn’t see anyone we knew though. 

So then we went to the Rainbow. Bootsie was there. They were playing boring disco music. Then they played “Walk This Way” and “Rip Her to Shreds.” We left, but saw Eric outside the Roxy, waiting to see Roy Ayers. We talked for a while – it’s weird – I haven’t talked that much to him for a long time! Mostly about music and punk rock being a joke and stuff. He didn’t try to kiss me or anything.

We stopped at 7-11 and got a Slurpee, which Jade drank most ofl. When we got back to the Starwood they were playing good stuff in the disco so we danced a while.

Now, this is what happened that really confused me. I was standing sorta by the pinball machines, and I saw Steven Hufsteter go by with his arm around this blond chick. And he looked back at me like “Hey, it’s you!” OK, so Jade and I went into the concert room. We passed him and the blond chick was introducing him to someone; I heard: “This is Steve.” Then there he was, by the stiars! How could he get there so fast?! There aren’t two of him! 

I was just thinking – MAYBE he hurried over there somehow, to see me. Cause anyway he goes, “How come you never say hi to me anymore?” and he was hanging onto me sort of, and he squeezed my hand. I just said, “I don’t know…” or something. He then goes, “We are still friends, aren’t we?” I just said, “I guess…”

So we went backstage for a bit. I asked Rodney, and Trudie had called his show. He goes, “You and I never did get together, did we? What can I say – I’d still like to!” YIKES! Thank God someone finally came up to talk to him!

So, the Screamers… We had to stand at the back of the balcony, but at least we weren’t squooshed. I somehow thought they’d be more “musical.” They did do “The Beat Goes On” but I couldn’t figure out what it was until it was halfway through. But Tomata is such a great performer! The place was packed. I was standing behind Danny W. and he said hi and stuff. I saw Steve way over there. 

So after a while I went backstage again, to sit down for a minute out of the crowd, and to find Jade, who had gone back there halfway through the first song! We talked to Paul’s mom. [That must have been Steve’s mom too!]

Then we watched the Screamers do the Magazine song (though Jade left after ten seconds). I thought this guy over there looked like Kyle but by the end of the song he had disappeared. A little while later I went in the other room to watch Danny Benair play pinball and there was Kyle! So I talked to him a while. He does like disco now but not the really bad kind. His hair is longer and he really looks good now.

I told him that we were gonna play at the Whiskey that night [This would have been my band The Bromos, but I have no memory of this!] but we couldn’t find a drummer and he goes, “You should have called me!” I said that I did! He said he’d like to do it in September.

Steven T. came up and Kyle introduced us, and even though Kyle told me before that he was a Todd freak, I never could stand him. Well, I remember what Brent had said – he’s so dumb! Anyway, he says, “Come here,” and asks if I like Todd and stuff. So then he goes, “So I like Todd and you like Todd – let’s go fuck!” Fuck HIM! He kept bugging me and I said I had a boyfriend and he said he had never heard of him and he’s not here anyway. He kept saying he was better than Todd.

He complained to Kyle that I wouldn’t fuck him and then he gave up, thank God. Kyle jokingly asked me why I wouldn’t and I said, “I don’t like blonds.” Then I said I also didn’t like obnoxious and forward guys and mosst of all, I don’t like HIM in the first place! Then we had to leave.

On this day in 1976 - 20 February

I have been wearing contact lenses for exactly 42 years! The first pair I got were hard, and will forever remind me of Roxy Music, as I used to use the cover of Siren to rest my case on, along with the little suction cup you could use to pick up a dropped lens. This was the first and only time I saw Roxy Music, and I don't believe I even mention their name in the whole entry!

This was also the first and only time I went to Gino's nightclub; I don't even remember where it was! And I never saw that Glenn again! Wonder if Helen still has his number...

20 February 1976

Today Trudie started at our school. She couldn’t get in any of my classes! I stayed in Modern Dance 3rd and 4th to hear Tandy and Co. talk. That Dancy Dance phrase was fun and a lot easier than the stuff we learn in class!

I went to the eye doctor and got my contact lenses. It’s so weird being able to see without glasses! We went over to Mary’s and we didn’t leave for the Palladium for so long! Oh well, I didn’t want to see Flash Cadillac anyway. I didn’t see Eddie [Driscoll; he was everywhere!] there! Hardly saw anyone I knew. That guy with the super freaky hair from Alex Harvey was there and his jacket said MARS on the back. Then there was that guy who looked like Peter Frampton- what a FOX! I tried to take his pic. Saw Brent and Laura inside – Brent looked so neat – like Russell Mael sort of.

Trudie was wearing that shirt as a dress – I wish I could wear stuff like that. [Well, I later did!] Saw Kari, Hernando and Rodney too and took their pictures. That was sure nice how Mary, Trudie and Helen left us. Susan went to the back. I got pretty close to where Eddie [Jobson, on stage] was. Hope my pictures come out decently – I wonder which one broke. [???]

That was so dumb – afterward that guy showed me how I should have taken pictures! (Takes kidneys!) [I’m not sure what I’m on about here, I mean about how I should have taken pictures – pushing the film is my best guess.] I thought that one guy was really nice letting me go in front of him… but… well, he left me alone after I hit him once. [METOO alert!] Near the end I got really close. They started with Sentimental Fool, and of what I know the titles of that they did included: Love is the Drug, Whirlwind, She Sells, Both Ends Burning, Virginia Plain, For Your Pleasure… I forgot what the encore was. Eddie (sigh…) had a violin solo. He kept looking in the audience and smiling – people passed him up notes! He was dressed so neat in white tails. Bryan Ferry looked scuzzy. Clark Gable?!

Afterward, Rich [Susan Richards] and I went looking for people we knew. That Todd guy was soooo skinny! [I think that must have been Stewart who used to hang out at the Rainbow.] And we saw a Steve Tyler lookalike.

[I then waffle on for far too long about a brief encounter with my ex who had dumped me the month before. He was as full of charm as ever, which is to say utterly without the same, but I do come over all sentimental and wonder what it would have been like to have attended this concert with him, which, until last month, I had thought would happen. (He had managed to wrangle his way in free, as he often did.)]

I wanted to go to the Rainbow so bad but I’m glad I didn’t go with Robert [the ex mentioned above] cause it was $5 for one thing (which he wouldn’t pay) and I wouldn’t have met Glenn!!!! Glenn was so neat! He looked a lot like Eddie Jobson, was a little bit short, dressed neat and was so funny!!

He had to be introduced all around. I told him I was Mar Tian and he goes, “All right, Marsha…” “No! Mar TIAN – like with the antennas?” “Oh…” “I’m also known at times as Chandrika Zolar or Desdemona Luna, but most people call me Karen.” “Sounds like Carrot – so you’re Karen the Carrot.” (Later he introduced us to his friend as Karen the Carrot, Susan the Rich etc… Oh and he couldn’t remember Mary’s name – I go, “She has a little lamb.” “Does it lie down on Broadway?” “No, but its fleece is white as snow.” “It wouldn’t by any chance follow her to school?” “Also, she is quite contrary.”

At first he was talking mostly to Helen and Trudie but they were talking to the surfer geeks so then I was talking to him – he’s sooo neat! He had a candy apple [They used to always sell candy apples after gigs!] he didn’t want to finish so he goes, “Where should I throw it?” “In the street.” So he tosses it there… “Do you think anyone saw me?” “Yeah.” “Who?” “Me.” “But you wouldn’t tell on me, would you?” “Hmmm… No, I won’t…”

We started talking about Genesis a little. He told Helen to call him. Well, she can’t have him – he’s mine! I’m inviting him to my party, both Roberts, Ben, Bill Harris, Patrick, Chris… EVERYONE I like (so I’ll be sure not to lose!!!)

Anyway we went to Gino’s – bleccch. They played the crappiest music in the world! I didn’t want to go in. I waited outside with Rich then Trudie came out and we went to Bob’s Big Boy and Mary came too. We were acting so weird, throwing pancakes and stuff. When we came back out it was freezing!!

At Mary’s house in the driveway Helen ran over Mary’s shoe that she had dropped on the ground!!! We couldn’t stop laughing! We stayed up for this dumb movie at 4:00 am then fell asleep during it.

On this day in 1975 - 9 & 10 November

Sparks were doing two nights at the Santa Monica Civic, and I had to get decent seats, as my friend Dan and I got thrown out on our asses for lighting sparklers and running down the aisle with them as the band came out in May of that year. I got back in but he didn't. Our older friend, Brent Williams, offered to drive Mary, Trudie and me down to the Civic in the wee hours, and arranged for us to crash beforehand at Patrick Warren's place. Patrick was a professional musician who had also graduated the year before and I didn't know him that well but, as an aspiring keyboardist, I was in awe of him. I don't believe I saw him again in person until the mid 00s when he turned up playing keyboards for my friend Jim White.

Of course my parents would never have allowed this, so I had to pretend that I was staying at Mary's house, and she at mine, and Brent wrote my absent note to the school as my father. (From this point on my new dad took on this role a LOT.)

I have no idea who this Graham person was or what happened to him, though I seem to remember last seeing him at a Roxy Music gig where he told me he was a Gemini.

9 November

I couldn't believe it when Mom let me stay overnight at Mary's. Mary told her mom she was staying at mine. We went over to Kristi's to get her [ticket] $$, then Brent and Trudie picked us up and we went to Jade's. She had got her hair cut into a Bowie. When we left hers, Brent drove around her lawn twice - it was so funny!

We went to Patrick's. Never thought I'd be spending the night at his house! Trudie and I slept on the couch and Mary the floor. In the middle of the nite Trudie goes, "Don't! Please stop!!" I go, "What?!" and she goes,"Leave my hair alone! Leave it alone!!" So then I ask, "Are you asleep?" and she goes, "No!" But she was.

10 November

I saw Patrick get up and eat but I didn't say anything to him. Later I looked at the music on his piano and he had transcribed the music for "Firth of Forth." Brent was supposed to pick us up before 5:00 but he didn't come till 7:00! I was almost sure we were gonna have to go to school!

So we got to the Civic and who do we see but Bill Fucile! [He went to our school and in later years hung out at the Masque; sadly died in the 80s.] Mary and I went to Sambo's. I got in a fight with Trudie about taking cuts. [But at least I wasn't cutting her hair!] Dawn and Sharon came [two friends who went to the "alternative" high school] and I'd saved them a place. I fell in love three times and #3 was Graham. We were talking to his friends and they told him I wanted to take his pic but I didn't. I thought Graham looked so neat though with that scarf and everything. He was going to Sparks both nites and to 10CC too. I didn't see anyone I knew in line. That was weird - no one asked for the orchestra pit! [That was the Holy Grail and what we got!]

After we got the tickets we had to take Warren and that girl to court and it took so long and was so boring. I got really pissed. [Annoyed, not drunk!] Then we had to watch that Bill Cosby/Raquel Welch movie. [I think we went to Brent's house; he still lived at home so that's why we couldn't have stayed there last night.] I thought it was so boring! [Funny, if you had asked me yesterday had I ever seen Mother, Jugs and Speed, I would have told you no...] But I got to school in time for swimming. [My last class; my mom might have been picking me up from school that day.] Kristin [my sister] was suspicious for a while but Mom never found out; they goofed on my report card. I'm so glad.

Later Brent came over with Ronda (who was sick) to write my sick note. He said he wasn't gonna go to the taping of Don Kirshner's Rock Concert with Alex Harvey, but later I found out he did - without US! Grr...

Remembering 7/7 on its tenth anniversary

Ten years ago today was on my mind all day.

I wrote the following as an email to friends outside of London, and a year later, posted it as my first blog entry on MySpace. When MySpace went down the tubes I managed to harvest my blogs, and meant to repost this here. Well, I am finally getting round to it.

In 2007 I moved into the flat where I had been staying that day in 2005, and during my more than five years in that neighbourhood, I don't know how many times I rode the no. 30 bus, or walked by or came out of the part of Liverpool Station that had been hit.

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I was separated from my laptop, as well as (fountain!) pen and paper on the 7th, and I wrote the following a couple days later. I was a bit annoyed that I had forgotten some of the details I'd written in my head, and worried that the tone might be a bit bloggy; it's certainly not investigative journalism! I don't know anyone directly involved and did not seek anyone out who was, but anyway, I write so many things that I never finish so for once I'm sending something out anyway.

7.7: Okay, this is what it was like. I had been here four days but my jet lag's worse than ever. I'm sleeping on the famous crash couch in Liz's flat in Highbury. It's ten something in the morning and Liz comes in; she should be at work. She had gone to the bus stop but no bus ever came, and finally she learned what had gone down: eight tube stations bombed as well as the no. 30 bus.

(Yes, it wasn't eight, it was three, but in the first hours the news was very fuzzy.) Liz makes coffee and turns on the TV, News 24, and we're both glad we're not watching American news, with its constant commentary - theories, opinions, wafflers waffling on just to hear the sound of their own self-beloved voices. Mikes thrust down the gob of someone whose house just burned down - "So, how do you FEEL?"

Getting back to the point... Nothing much unfolds for a while and we stare at the gogglebox, transfixed. Liz walks to work in Clerkenwell, reports later that the streets were eerily deserted and that people stared suspiciously down at her from windows above.

I watch and I watch. Even watch the Shrub, who reminds me of a braindead tin soldier with his arms held rigidly out from his sides, and marvel at the fact that no grammatical errors emerge in his speech, or maybe my brain's on holiday and I'm not really listening, still thinking of his pal the panic-stricken (B)Liar's shell-shocked face.

Or maybe my brain is feeling guilty 'cause all the misspellt words on the crawling text are bugging me - Edgeware Road (it's Edgware!!), Oldgate for Aldgate...

The rumours start flying later, but only outside the TV news world; although the Beeb showed that map with the excess burning stations, they are cautious only to report the facts. Liz rings, says she heard that it was suicide bombers, jumping in front of trains; then she heard that the bombers escaped and that the bombs were set off by mobile phones. My mobile doesn't work on the Underground, even the shallow lines, so how could that be possible? Never mind, it all ain't true.

So. I'm stranded. Yesterday I took all my stuff to my new digs, then went back into town and crashed back at Liz's on the aforementioned couch after a late night drinking sesh - a lock-in at the Wenlock Arms, and there's no way to get back to Edmonton, where my stuff is. It's way way out there in the part of North London best avoided. I realise I need money and must get to the bank before it shuts as I have misplaced my cash card. (Days later, as ever, I find it exactly five minutes after the replacement card arrives in the post.) The bank is way down at the other end of Upper Street, so I hurry out.

We're not very far from two of the bomb sites and I expect to find all doom and gloom, but first of all it's a glorious day. It had been raining earlier but now the sky is blue, the air is washed and clean, the sun is shining but very gently, hardly ever had I seen such perfect weather. Everyone is smiling. Phoning people, saying, "It was just a matter of time." "I'm all right." Laughing about having to walk or being stranded. Smiling at passers-by, saying hello - now this is WEIRD! This is just not done in London. I overtake some Yank tourists who are walking too slowly and they apologise to me.

People are sitting in the outdoor cafes. The only things I see that are closed are one clothes shop, one betting shop (though a sign in the window assures customers that a branch not far away remains open) and all three branches of Starbucks have closed down early. (Perhaps the management were worried they might have to dole out some free water at some point.) And my bank. And just half an hour early, the bastards!

So I wander into Sainsbury's, where, even though there are the longest waits I'd ever seen at the checkouts (announcements over the Tannoy keep apologising for this), everyone remains happy and smiling. A woman, who was balancing her basket precariously atop one of those old lady shopping wheely things, sees the contents crash to the floor and immediately a dozen people surround her, picking up eggshells and cheese puffs, and others rally to find her replacement items (which she puts in her basket in the same dangerous position, forcing one of the good Samaritans to end up holding it for her). I'd never seen behaviour like this in London. Maybe oop north, where they'd probably be brewing oop a cooppa for the old dear and force-feeding some Tunnock's teacakes down her gullet too, but London?? As Pokey once said to Gumby (I had to stick a incomprehensible to non-Yanks reference in amidst all these Britishisms): "Weird, man, weird!"

Well, someone's not a happy camper. Way over on the other side of the store there's a lot of shouting, and some kind of security person was summoned to expel the culprit, but we (I say "we" because the people in my queue take turns to go over and try to find out what's going on but no-one has any success - it's a big store and difficult to get close or to see past the crowds at the tills) never manage to find out what the deal was.

Then, weirder still, the woman at the till chats to me, just like we were up north and this sort of thing is normal! About the weather, about the crowds of people stocking up with food, what time she started work and how she was getting home etc. This is getting to be very strange.

Now I'm hungry and I'm still cashless and living on plastic so I head for Pasha on the way back, but we're in the in-between hours when they have their doors open but they aren't serving any food, so it's La Petite Auberge; at first I'm the sole customer but it soon fills up with stranded folk; one man wants a table with enough light to read the paper and I've got the "Stan-dud" too - the only London paper is an evening one and aren't they happy about that! The morning rags with their blazing "We've Got the Olympics!" headlines now looked forlorn.

My phone keeps beeping with text messages; I go back to Liz's and ring my mother as she (Liz) had urged me to; she had only just heard the news. But had not thought of phoning me The buses are running and I go out to wait for one to Clerkenwell, but after half an hour I walk halfway. When one comes and I try to pay the fare the driver tells me buses are free "because of the troubles". (What - are we in Ulster?) I probably could have got all the way back to Edmonton now, but I don't feel much like being alone. Especially in those ultra dreary digs.

So I meet Liz and Sergio, who had walked from his work in Paddington to Clerkenwell - took two hours - in the pub next to Liz's office, and then we get a cab back to the Wenlock Arms in Hoxton. The cab driver is all chatty too, telling us how hungry he is - heading for McDonald's soon - and about deserted streets he had gone through a bit earlier. The streets are still unusually empty for this part of town. But in the Wenlock all is normal. It's quiz night, and nice to do something so normal and mundane. We come in fourth, pints all round.

14 July

Everyone has been full of "what if's", and all the newspaper columnists have written about the strange few days in which Londoners spoke to one another. That has pretty much passed and things are back to normal, although the tubes are less crowded and the buses more crowded. The other night I spoke to Vivianne in Leeds, who said she was glad she wasn't in London, and the next morning my old hometown was all over the news. Beeston, where I worked the (not so) better part of a year, and then Burley, the Hyde Park scrag end of Burley, and there's a TV reporter standing at the top of Vivianne's street!

Vivianne was returning from the shop when she was stopped and her house keys confiscated. The cops knocked on the door where Steve was working on the computer (in his underwear as it was quite hot); he was told he had 30 seconds to evacuate the premises; was allowed to get a pair of jeans but not to fetch his mobile phone or to take his car (finally, about seven hours later after several refusals, a cop drove it out for him.)

They were not allowed back for 48 hours and several hundred others were evacuated as well. If you had nowhere to go they put you up at the leisure centre (what fun), where apparently the old fossils - I mean dears - relived the war and sang songs throughout the night. Steve was interviewed by the local TV news (but naturally did not get to see it) and I should really do a proper interview with him as he made the story sound much more interesting when he told it to me than what I've just written here. But having spent many many nights in that house and neighbourhood (I lived round the corner) I wish I could have seen the faces of some of the white trash criminal neighbours (it's the kinda place where a two-year-old's first words are "fuck off!") being evacuated - wonder how they managed to get - and keep - them all out! I bet there was a lot of toilet flushing in those last few minutes ...

The bomb factory flat, which is just over the road, is one that belongs to Leeds Fed, the housing association for which I once worked. I'd also love to see that application form!

30 July

Arrests, stand-offs, shootings and of course the botched attempts by the Keystone* bombers on the 21st; this is said to have made both residents and visitors alike much more fearful, but not yours truly. Cops everywhere, everyone peering about, looking at one another with suspicion. and the tubes are still nicely uncrowded. The other night I had a train car to myself, and it wasn't even an odd time (it was about 8:45 pm) or a remote area (it was fairly central and a main line), and I noticed a carrier bag abandoned near one of the doors. I didn't investigate and it looked like it contained only an Evening Standard, but the deal is, you are meant to report ANYTHING unattended - so did I? Naah, I was getting off the train at the next stop anyhow.

*(credit - Richard R.)

And yesterday I was going to work from my new digs in Tulse Hill - yeah, commuting! - and as I got on the No. 2 bus I realised I was taking the same route at the same time on the same day of the week as Jean Charles de Menezes. There's a big tribute outside Stockwell Station and the questions are still buzzing (police still have not explained why someone they were convinced was a bomber was allowed to board a bus, or why he was not detained before entering the tube station - it's quite a long way from the bus stop to the station entrance and plenty of room for manoeuvering out on the sidewalk) and everyone I know is wondering why people are so accepting of this, and our mayor Ken is wobbling like a weeble, first alienating himself from Noo Labour (but endearing himself to us) by "mentioning the war", then defending the shoot-to-kill cops and passing the buck.

And that's that.

e/k/w

On that day in 1977 - 31 October

About time I resumed this thing! I had just moved into the Tiger den on La Cienega. Trudie, Helen and Mary had apartment-sat (or office-sat? Tiger's apartment was actually a unit in an office building) for Tiger over the summer and after that had cobbled together some money to get their own place in West Hollywood, the Plunger Pit near the Starwood. The year before, Jerry Satinsky had taken some photos of them holding plungers, and they were thereafter known as The Plungers. However, just to confuse you, Jerry called us all "the weirdos" - not to be confused with the group of that name - and I will retain my references from the time.

I can't remember if the Mumps/Devo gig was at the Whisky or Starwood; perhaps the latter? For a while I was automatically always on Devo's guest list. And Rodney DJ'd at the Starwood; not that he didn't go to most shows at the Whisky too.

The "giant guy" who won the Halloween costume was a 7-foot aspiring actor, Carel Struycken, who later turned up playing the Giant on Twin Peaks: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carel_Struycken.

Shame about my cleaned-out purse; I was thinking I probably wouldn't have had more than a couple bucks at any one time in those days but since I said "all my money", maybe I lost the $20!

31 October 1977

Well, today after classes I went home. And they [the 'rents] were really nice to me and gave me $20. I stayed for dinner but then I had to go back. And I was so homesick and stuff I started crying on the way back, how embarrassing.

I didn't know what to be for Halloween so I put on that black dress and went to the weirdoes'. Trudie was gonna wear these red pajamas but she decided not to so I wore them. Took them long enough to get ready and we missed the first band!

Soo Catwoman/vampire Helen, me in Trixie's PJs, Trudie as Vampira in the Plunger Pit

The Mumps were great!!!! They all wore masks and stuff and Lance wore orange and black, a shirt with a Jack-o-lantern with a safety pin through his nose. Oh, but first he came out and did the first song with a sheet on!

Devo - it was so crowded I could hardly see. I saw their film though and it was FANTASTIC!

Oh, I'd thought that Rodney had forgotten who I was, but no such luck. This night he remembered. And - I'm sure! - tried to talk me into ditching my boyfriend and moving in with him! He said he'd support me and I could be the cohost of his show - oh sure! Barf barf barf!!!

What else happened that night... Well, everyone went upstairs and left me down there alone. and they had a costume contest and I think Rod should have won but he was booed offstage!!! But it was neat that the giant guy won... He wasn't even wearing a costume!

The costume that should have won was booed offstage! Mary as Twiggy on the right.

Afterward the weirdoes had a party again but I only stayed for a few minutes. Till I found who had my purse - took long enough - and then all my money was stolen.

Africa Part One

MySpace removed my old blogs so I am moving them here. This was the beginning of my write-up on my first trip to Africa in 2004. Here's part one; two to follow soon, and then maybe I'll somehow attempt to finish it... (I never did, and it's been nearly ten years!)


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Sunday, 18 July: Nairobi

Two days of air travel (Note to self: never do two overnight flights in a row again) and endless waiting but I'm finally in Africa. For those of you who aren't aware, my brother, Kurt, lived in Kenya for a year in the mid 80s (attending the University of Nairobi) and Tanzania for two years in the late 80s (in the Peace Corps and working in Jane Goodall's headquarters), then in the 90s he started leading wildlife safaris in East Africa every year or two. I housesat for him in the desert (because I couldn't afford to go) during the previous two in '99 and '00, and then the following year, slaving away at (No)Futurekids, I finally saved enough money to go, but for various reasons "Baobob V" was postponed until this year.

With twenty in all, this is Kurt's largest group ever, and always on the lookout for new recruits, he has persuaded Helen, our 84-year-old "fake relative" (she's a friend of the family, she grew up next door to my mother with no living relatives left on the planet) to be my "roommate", warning me with a slight smirk that Helen's memory ain't what it used to be. (The thing is, it never was what it used to be; she's one of those people who, although kind-hearted and well-meaning, constantly asks you loads of questions yet dizzily, never pays attention to the answers.) I am happy not to pay a single supplement and decide not to worry.

Helen flew on her own from Phoenix and joins our flight from London to Nairobi. As we get off this second overnight flight, Helen requests a wheelchair as she is feeling rough. This turns out to be a plus for Candice (my brother's girlfriend) and me: we push the chair and get to breeze through Immigration with no waiting.

It's early in the morning and here we are at our luxury hotel (I'm not really expecting this and I'm not accustomed to places that give you bathrobes and slippers) on a hill above the city, the Nairobi Serena. Helen dons the dressing gown and crashes as soon as we're shown into the room and I struggle to stay awake. After channel surfing (the only local television channel seems to be an East African MTV with a lot of tedious booty-shakin going on, and there seems to be a very wide range of trashy American "Lifetime television for women" biopics (inside joke to those who know him: no Ramsay sightings unfortunately) available at all hours) and sitting in the Jacuzzi for a while (it's way too cold to go swimming), I end up guzzling coffee at the poolside bar, mildly pestered by a sunburnt builder from Reading (his hols: a two-day "Big 5" type safari followed by a fortnight on the beach at Mombasa) who accuses me of being unfriendly because I'm trying to read my book. (He shuts up when I tell him I'm hoping to see some bats, probably thinks I'm some kind of goth freak.)

Finally it's 2 PM and five of us are taken to the Nairobi National Museum. It's adjacent to Nairobi Snake Park! We must go in. I believe we're the only tourists in there. Relieved to see that there are large enclosures in this vivarium/aquarium, though it could do with more frequent cleaning - we see some quite enormous boa turds.

The museum is wonderful and although it's much bigger, it brings to mind the sorely missed (at least by me) Leeds City Museum (which also had a very small vivarium/aquarium, wonder what happened to those mud puppies!), as well as the very Victorian Dublin Natural History Museum. I'm drawn to the Leakey skulls (Homo Habilis!!), although the hall of dead birds was very useful for future identification, and the hall with local art was amazing.

We stop off for a drink on the veranda of the Norfolk Hotel (Nairobi's oldest), where I have my first Tusker lager.


Dinner that evening at the hotel restaurant is a four-course affair, the first of many. Helen has slept through it, and consequently is up all night, noisily pottering about.

Monday, 19 July: Nairobi

Helen finally emerges from the room for breakfast. She decides not to go on our first game drive however, saying she plans to spend the day sitting by the pool. At any rate there is more room for the five of us in our pop-top minivan.

We have about a half hour wait outside the gates of Nairobi National Park, and are encouraged, for the first of many times, to visit the gift shop. I ask if I can go into the Animal Orphanage instead, and they arrange for us all to go in. (Note: Richard Leakey was once head of the orphanage, and this is where Jane Goodall worked when she first came to Africa.) This is not something they normally do so everyone is quite pleased that I suggested it, as we get to frolic with cheetah and lion cubs.

The cheetahs are teenagers, about the size of a German Shepherd (though more the shape of a greyhound of course), and they purr as you scratch them under the chin and like to lick your face.
The lion cubs are much younger and play roughly just like kittens: climbing up your leg, grabbing your arm and sinking claws and teeth into it - only they're about twenty times the size of kittens with a corresponding twenty times larger teeth and claws. I manage to disentangle myself and merely receive a surface scratch but poor Sandy's leg is kind of a bloody mess, requiring an application of iodine.

Not as exciting, but still very cute, here's a dik dik:

Nairobi Park is a good introduction to African game drives as it encompasses so much in such a small area; beyond every corner is a different kind of terrain, from forest and bush to swamp and savannah. At certain points you can see the skyscrapers of Nairobi behind herds of giraffe. Giraffes are everywhere; we drive ten feet past the gates and about a dozen are blocking the road.







No big cats or elephants yet, but we also see zebras, impalas, gazelles, bushbucks, elands, hartebeests, wildebeests, buffalo, vervet monkeys, warthogs and loads of birds.





I have an eye to eye brief encounter with a malachite kingfisher, who flies away as soon as I notify others of his presence.

Lunch is at a restaurant called the Verandah, owned by an American woman. It's very nice and I'm relieved that we didn't have to dine at the Carnivore Restaurant (with a selection of "bush meat") up the road.


Afterward we visit the Langata Giraffe Centre. It houses three tame Rothschild's giraffes which you may feed:



you climb up a tower in order to reach the level of their mouths and they'll take the food, which is like rather large rabbit pellets, off your hand or out of your mouth (several young boys get very into this!)



A giraffe tongue is quite soft but not wanting to get covered in giraffe spittle, I mostly toss the pellets as one would toss fish to a seal.



They're greedy buggers too! Way down below, some warthogs are eating the pellets that have fallen on the ground, but there aren't many of those.

Apparently for some extortionate sum you may stay in the giraffe towers on the premises, and they, the giraffes that is, will stick their heads in and wake you up in the morning. I'm sure if they were given free rein they'd be happy to wake you up in the middle of the night too!

Next we travel to the district of Karen and visit Karin Blixen's house and museum. All I remember about Out of Africa is that I wasn't impressed by her taste in men - going for those macho big game hunters. I guess she did a lot for the locals, or at least gave them work on her plantation, but she actually only lived in Africa for fourteen years or so. You'd think if you thought of somewhere as your spiritual home and had nice digs (as this house was, and what a view too!),



that you would want to spend the rest of your days there, but no, she went back to dreary Denmark and never returned to Africa! Not once!! In Denmark she died of malnutrition. I reckon she wasn't getting enough fresh vegetables. But back to that fourteen years thing - I lived that long in Leeds! Will Meryl Streep play me someday in Out of Headingley, working the door at the Warehouse (turning away cranky ligging journalists who want us to subsidize their dates), buying cheese & onion pasties at Stanley's Bakery, doling out cash advances on wages to stage crew at the Playhouse, riding my bike across Woodhouse Moor and driving Bob (my old Mini) through the dales? Will the "district" of Hyde Park be renamed in honour of me? Only time will tell.

Back at the hotel we learn that Helen called for a doctor and was later taken to Nairobi Hospital! I won't go into the details but it wasn't anything life threatening. Okay, she was just a little stopped up, if you get my drift. Kurt goes to fetch her and later all is well; he says she's fine to travel tomorrow though she seems a little cranky. Again she's up all night so again my slumber is disturbed.