talk about sunset

Three forty in the afternoon and already sunset. The birdies are already getting ready to settle for the evening and I'm on a phone conference wandering around the house when I notice the tree against the skyline.

This is one of those 'take for granted' views that we all have, in this case a distant tree from an upstairs window. I'll still be in conference calls when the birds are fully cloaked in darkness.

twinkle

Through the twinkling lights of Sloane Square today. Waiting for the traffic lights and sneaking a quick photograph. At this time of year, the square looks magical, with a signature blue and white glow as you approach and pretty fir trees lit in the adjacent Sloane Street.

masque of the red death

The Havanan party on Friday was all black tux and cocktail gowns, at least until the Cubans hit the floor and things became very salsa, with added limbo and lots of pink feathery fans. By one o' clock there was a certain amount of wreckage from a party that was hot, hot, hot.

So transport that thought to the next evening's party and this time start after the first party has already ended. Into a huge dark house, through a side door and immediately into a black curtained area where I was asked to wear a white face mask along with my companions. Then somewhere so dark that we soon became separated and facing the experiences of the night alone or with strangers.

Up dimly lit stairs, along impossible corridors with no signage and then pushing gingerly and randomly at any available door, not even sure whether I was somewhere I was meant to be.

And into a small shop; deserted, strange artifacts sprawled across the table. Birds feet, musty jars of who knows what, a sense of foreboding. And another room, a wine cellar filled with ancient dusty bottles. I lifted one, they were real, although again the area appeared deserted. A third room with a tailor in it. He beckoned to provide me a cloak. I gestured to the hats on the wall. He gave me a hooded cloak and I realised my transformation was now to a white, beak faced shadow, as I took off towards another part of the venue. Others following me in were now startled by my appearance and I think considered me part of the action. I realized that I was - and that we all were.

Then to a den, where opium could have been smoked, but at present was making tea the middle eastern way. I was offered a drink. Just as a lover of the proprietor appeared and some emotional moments passed. There were others around me now. Similarly attired, although I had no idea where my companions had gone.

This is the Masque of the Red Death, an installation based theatre piece in London and it should be the talk of the town. The entire and huge Battersea Arts Centre has been converted into a twisting, dark, opulent, gothic installation, with tiny rooms with maybe one player, hidden alcoves featuring lovers trysts, epic stairways, huge halls, ghosts, doctors, murderers and generally the stuff of Edgar Allen Poe.

Part way along, I found the backstage area of a play and could see a music hall vaudeville in progress. Then I was in the changing rooms, then I was in a forest of twisted trees. I found the club where drinking, singing and revelry occurred and sat for a while, being briefly the focus of a singer's attention.

In another I was clutched at by actors trying to prove that there was another world parallel to the one where they argued about literature whilst drinking soup.

Around a corner, to an area behind a stairwell, where, almost hidden, a white faced woman was whispering intensely to another caped figure. And then alone to an attic where something terrible had rent the walls in two, with pictures askew and signs of an argument. There was a banquet with writhing dancers and another woman dragged down a marble stairway by a raffish vagabond.

Maybe this was sensory bombardment, maybe the deep musical tones creaking through much of the venue did add to the feeling of suspense. Discernable threads of Poe's story were present, but it didn't matter about the sequencing.

I loved it, my fellow intrepid spirits loved it. We didn't meet until we had been all Ushered along another dark corridor into another intense area where a finale generated huge applause from the several hundred of us that had made each a unique journey through this place.

And blam, before there was time to think, the band kicked in and the place evolved into a night club, with gothic walls, with tented soft cushioned areas and with many of the characters from the earlier evening now part of the immediately lively dance floor.

If you live in London and like performing arts, go to this total sensory experience - Friday or Saturday to get the full party as well. I'll give this fifteen out of ten.

Technorati Tags: rashbre, red+masque, edgar+allen+poe, poe, ghosts, murder, mayhem, Battersea, Arts, London, face+mask,

up the creek canal without a canoe

The intriguing story about the missing fifty-something year old canoeist who returned after five years with an apparent memory lapse continues to unfold (unravel) with a fair amount of speed.

Allegedly, John (the canoeist) originally re-appeared on his wife's doorstep after only one year away and then took up living back at home as well as in a next door bedsit - wait for it - with a secret door in the wardrobe back to the main house. Somehow this was kept from his son, family and friends.

Apparently, along the way, the major debts he had created were resolved (presumably from life assurance) and more recently a planned move of his wife (and then him) to Panama took place.

Then in the last few days the famous detective work where someone typed "John Anne Panama" into Google and immediately found a picture of them together on the relocation website as a publicity shot. My almost Wordless Wednesday post featured this and I was slightly surprised at the number of non sticky hits based on the 'John Anne Panama' title I gave to the post (tee-hee)...

What I also noticed though, were the number of news-reporter sites set up to trace extra stories about the couple; there is clearly short term money to be made for people who know the couple if they want to sell stories to the Sun, Mirror and even the BBC has a news gathering addition to its blog entries about this story.

Is this another sign of the times, where the media set up fake websites to attract googlers who may know something about a story? I suppose its easier than chasing people along the street with microphones and cameras.

Having said that, Terry McAnish took a tiny 4cm square picture which is on Sky, and I've rendered into a painting summarising the occasion. Here's John, again in hiding under a blanket, being driven by police.

Technorati Tags: rashbre, john, anne, panama, john+anne+panama, google,

salsa

Dancin' days are here again, as the song goes and tonight (tonite?) its Cuban which means mohito fuelled Salsa.

So instead of putting the dancing shoes on, I think the idea is to kick them off and dance in bare feet.

En Nueva York y Chicago
En San Francisco también
En Los Ángeles querido
Y en Miami que pasa
Hey!

Canto a la salsa
Es el ritmo que me hace
Me hace mover
Me hace gozar
Me hace levantar para bailar

or words to that effect.

Here's my gentle iZotope remix to set the scene.
El Cuarto de Tula

britney & rashbre piece of me - brig remix

Yes, from the holodeck and then through the bars of the brig of JLP's Enterprise, Ensign Britney and I decided we'd better make a video as part of our collaboration before we both blasted back off into our own separate news stories.

The video on here is suitably squished for web loading. A slightly better fidelity version is over on MTV here.

Technorati Tags: rashbre, britney, britney+spears, pieceofme, piece+of+me, mtv, remix, collaboration, latest , spongebobsquarepants

party time

I've been pretty busy at work recently, but I did manage to get along to the Enterprise Christmas Party over at JLP's on Wednesday. My date was Ensign Britney and we decided even with the theme being Las Vegas, that it would be fun to go along dressed as Pirates.

I managed to take one picture of Brit on the Holodeck, but I'm afraid it came out a bit blurry. The party was a blast and actually its still going on, but I have a couple more this week and need to save myself for Cuba on Friday and then the Masque of the Red Death Ball on Saturday (and probably Sunday as well).

That will be four parties in a week, if I count the impromptu Birthday party for Britney,too.

space hopper

A wordless wednesday to enjoy. Go on, click the pic!

john anne panama

This week's competition - Hunt the canoeist.

Technorati Tags: rashbre, john, anne, panama, john+anne+panama, google

the long and short of it

The new London Overground which is like the Underground, but runs at ground level - (similar to railways) - has had a problem surface. Actually its quite a long flat problem surface. But not a very wide one.

The new train service was due to start on 11th November, but has been having a bit of bother with Shepherd's Bush train station. Its the platforms. They've some how been made too narrow to stand upon to wait for the trains.

Apparently measurements of ABCs (Average British Citizens) were taken when the line was first being designed back in the late 1990s. A combination of increases in shopping bag size and some side effects from genetically modified carrots mean that the widths of the platforms are now insufficient for modern commuters.

The station cost around £65 million to create and now a fairly substantial retaining wall needs to be dismantled and moved back before it can be declared fit for purpose. This is not news to London Connections which alonng with Private Eye reported something was awry back in October.

Part of the problem is the lamp-posts on the already narrow platform that can only be passed by crossing onto the yellow safety zone part of the platform, which is supposed to be kept clear except when boarding a train.

I gather moving the retaining wall back a minimum half metre to widen the platform is estimated to cost £7million. I'm not sure whether sawing down the lamp-posts and putting lights on the wall would do the trick.

iPhone Oyster hack for London

Live in London? Use the tube and buses? Then you've got an Oyster card. There's an experiment at the moment to integrate them with phones and Nokia are trying it out with a pilot.

Here's the rashbre central unofficial pilot for iPhone users, but it works fine for other phone makes too.

The iPhone is great. It looks fabulous but in regular use its a bit slippy. So I bought a 'tight fittlng rubberised case' from incase.. Oooh, I hear you cry.

So as an experiment, I've added extra functionality to the phone by inserting my Oyster card into the case before putting it around the phone.

Then simply wave the phone by the Oyster touch-points.

Works brilliantly and makes me smile.

rashbre iPhone oyster london londonist apple hack Tfl tube buses

(b) log

I seem to have spent most the weekend working, apart from our little excursion to Windsor yesterday afternoon.

Aside from the upward vertical rain and fighting through mad shoppers trying to buy scented candles and single pyramid shaped tea-bags for £2.50 each, the main reason was to visit the theatre.

To be honest, it was disappointing. I've seen the same play with different direction and thought a lot of clever allusions in the previous version were not expressed in this equivalent. I suppose it was a late afternoon performance, so perhaps the cast were saving themselves for the evening, but I doubt they would be able to pull a lot more from the hat.

Then time for an early evening bite to eat and we scrambled between various busy venues along by the Windsor Castle until we reached the brasserie by the oddly festooned Christmas tree outside the castle entrance. Here a pleasant supper with jazzy saxophone accompaniment before home to more work until about 23:30.

And more work today, from the start of the day until about four thirty in the afternoon. A short ten minute shopping expedition to buy milk, and my first outdoor sighting of Santa this year, parked with his sleigh outside Tescos.

So mysteriously, a chocolate yule log fell into my shopping basket along with the milk. And that's what I'm eating a slice of right now.

rashbre xmas chocolate yule yule+log