Friday, March 16, 2018

Top ten fictional bands

The Carrie Nations
1. Spinal Tap
This is Spinal Tap (1984)
As mentioned some years ago, a fictional band who then released an album and toured in real life.

2. The Carrie Nations
Beyond The Valley of the Dolls (1970)

3. Autobahn
The Big Lebowski (1998)

4. Figrin D’an and the Modal Nodes
Star Wars (1977)

5. Wyld Stallyns
Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure (1989)

6. The Folksmen
A Mighty Wind (2003)

7. Stillwater
Almost Famous (2000)

8. Marvin Berry and the Starlighters
Back to the Future (1985)

9. The Paranoids*
The Crying of Lot 49, Thomas Pynchon (1966)

10. The Fool*
Gravity's Rainbow, Thomas Pynchon (1973)
An English rock group who has Tyrone Slothrop appearing on one of their album covers.

*Yes, two Pynchon bands make it in the top ten. And yes, I know it's difficult to gauge how good a fictional band is in a novel, as you can't actually hear them, but imagination is a powerful tool.

Previously on Barnflakes:
Anvil vs. Spinal Tap
Top 10 Films about Musicians

Thursday, March 15, 2018

Top ten prequels

In the beginning there was...

1. Wide Sargasso Sea by Jean Rhys (1966)
(Original: Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë, 1847)

2. The Godfather Part II, Dir: Francis Ford Coppola (1974)
(Original: The Godfather, Dir: Francis Ford Coppola, 1972) 

3. Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West by Gregory Maguire (1995)
(Original: The Wizard of Oz, Dir: Victor Fleming, 1939)

4. Rogue One: A Star Wars Story, Dir: Gareth Edwards (2016)
(Original: Star Wars: Episode IV – A New Hope, 
Dir: George Lucas, 1977)

5. Twin Peaks: Fire Come Walk With Me,
Dir: David Lynch (1992)
(Original: Twin Peaks, Creators: David Lynch/Mark Frost, 1990-1991)

6. Star Trek, Dir: J. J. Abrams (2009)
(Original: Star Trek, Creator: Gene Roddenberry, 1966-1967)

7. Monsters University, Dir: Dan Scanlon (2013)
(Original: Monsters, Inc., Dir: Pete Docter, 2001)
8. Skagboys by Irvine Walsh (2012)
(Original: Trainspotting by Irvine Walsh, 1993)
9. Havisham by Ronald Frame (2004)
(Original: Great Expectations by Charles Dickens, 1861)
10. Finn by Jon Clinch (2007)
(Original: Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain, 1884)

Wednesday, March 14, 2018

Pylons in the snow

Ljubljana, Slovenia

I noticed an eerie silence at East Croydon train station – maybe due to cold weather, maybe something else. Then H noticed trains weren't running to Gatwick; there was a bus replacement service from Redhill to Gatwick (a six mile journey). I immediately sensed potential mayhem. The train to Redhill arrived – completely over-packed with passengers and suitcases. I did some quick maths: 12 train coaches, each requiring a whole bus at Redhill. There would need to be a whole fleet of replacement buses waiting for us. Needless to say, there were none. No buses, no information, just complete chaos with hundreds of people filling the train station platform, the entrance hall and a long queue outside snaking up to the place where there were non-existent buses. By the time we made it to the entrance hall, we had an hour to go before our flight. There were still no buses, no information and hundreds of people ahead of us.

We had to make a decision – quick. H said to leave the station and find a taxi. Amazingly, not many people had the same idea, and after running halfway down a road to stop one, we shared a taxi with three others to Gatwick – at the extortionate cost of £10 each (one of the others was so outraged, he wasn't going to pay, and the driver stopped. No, no, we shouted, keep driving!). We arrived at the airport with minutes to go before final boarding, ran along the endless corridors and got on the plane with about 30 seconds to spare.

Our taxi driver to Gatwick was from Kashmir where he told me it was -15 in the mountains right now. It was hard to imagine that coldness – though we found out a few hours later. Slovenia was experiencing its coldest winter in a decade with snow a foot deep (as was much of Europe; even the UK would get its fair share). I've probably never experienced – not even in Iceland – the icy shock of coming out of the airport late at night to be greeted by -15 C. A taxi took us to our hotel in the centre of town, along the banks of the willow-lined river that winds through the city. Unsurprisingly, given the temperature, there was no one around, and nothing open. We found one restaurant, called Paninoteka, and I had beef goulash with polenta and a pint of local beer. Bliss. One of the best meals I'd ever had.

(We returned to the same restaurant a few nights later to try and replicate the experience – never a good idea. There was a different waitress; I stupidly ordered a different meal, with wine instead of beer. We were sitting on the other side of the restaurant. I don't know, nothing felt the same. And it wasn't very nice. I always say never return anywhere – whether it be a country, city or restaurant – it's always a disappointment.)

The first thing we did in the morning was buy woolly hats. Then breakfast. We found Le Pitit cafe, a charming place a little away from the river. I don't know what was happening to my taste buds but everything tasted amazing (even the tap water in the hotel tasted like it had just melted off the Julian Alps, which it probably had), a simple breakfast of eggs on toast, coffee and orange juice, tasted fresh and lovely.

Our hotel was not only perfectly situated next to the river in the centre of town (which blissfully is all pedestrianised) but next to wonderful, geeky shops: we were next door to TipoRenesansa, a letterpress workshop and shop (where H talked me into buying a lovely notebook for – ahem – €18), a couple of record shops, a photography gallery and shop, and several bookshops. Retail heaven was on my doorstep.

(Everywhere H and I have been together we invariably: 1) Want to move there; 2) Think it's nicer, prettier, greener, friendlier, more efficient, cheaper and more interesting than London/England; 3) The only good thing about London is its free museums and galleries (we never fail to forget that museums and galleries are closed on a Monday everywhere in Europe, and charge an entrance fee when they are open); 4) Being oh-so-well-travelled, everywhere reminds us of somewhere else we've been – in the case of Ljubljana, it was Helsinki meets Venice.)

Despite the -7 temperature during the day, Ljubljana is a lovely city to walk around (even nicer in the Mediterranean summers, where open air restaurants, bars and markets line the riverbanks). There's plenty of pretty Art Nouveau buildings, lovely bridges, a castle perched on top of a hill over looking the city, numerous museums and galleries including a puppet theatre, cobbled roads and a tiny population, most of which seem to be students on bikes. Metelkova is a former army barracks (like the Venice Biennale Arsenal, H noted) turned autonomous alternative arty district, holding exhibitions, events and gigs. Everything in the city is within a 15 minute walk.

Slovene architect Joze Plecnik was responsible for much of the modern look of Ljubljana (as well as Prague and Vienna), designing many of the city's notable buildings, including the lovely, iconic Triple Bridge. But architect Milan Mihelič, still alive aged 92, designed a bunch of estates on the outskirts of town and a cool 1960s petrol station near the bus station, which I took more photos of than any other building in the city.

The sloping Tivoli Park sits on the outskirts of the city and contains landscaped gardens, statues and fountains. H spotted a small creature on the edge of a lake. It looked like a cross between a squirrel and a rabbit. The poor thing was staring at us, shivering. Will it be okay? I asked H. It will be fine, she reassured me, and we went on our way.

We spent a day at Tito's former holiday retreat, Lake Bled. If it sounds like something out of a vampire film, rest assured it is quite the opposite: a fairytale setting with a medieval castle on a cliff, pine forests and the Julian Alps all overlooking the glacial lake, on which sits a tiny island with a chapel on it.

Not to be confused with Slovakia (which I did numerous times), Slovenia was the first country to leave the former Yugoslavia in 1991, and saw a lot less fighting (just a Ten-Day War, in fact) than its former-Yugoslavian neighbours. It created a democracy and soon joined the EU. I was slightly disappointed at the lack of Brutalist Communist architecture but the petrol station, goulash, cool shops and Art Nouveau architecture made up for it.

– February 2018 

Flickr photos here.

Tuesday, March 13, 2018

Warren Oates' Rolled Oats

The estate of Warren Oates, legendary cult actor of classics including Two-Lane Blacktop, Badlands, The Wild Bunch and Bring me the Head of Afredo Garcia, has released a new range of breakfast cereal. Warren Oates' Oats is what it says on the packet: oats for making porridge. It's hoped Oates will do for oats what Paul Newman did for sauces and marinades.

Previously on Barnflakes:
Rocky's Rockland Road Rocky Road
Gravy Juice
Top ten Prince food songs
Top ten road movies

Friday, March 09, 2018

Notes on Kent

It took a while for Kent to grow on me, having long thought of it as either bland – The Garden of England, National Trust properties and places like Ashford and Maidstone – or pretty rough end-of-the-world towns like (the clues are really in the names) Gravesend (where Pocahontas died) and Rainham (voted 7th worst place to live in the UK last year; Dover – also in Kent – came first).

But dig deeper and Kent's beauty, uniqueness and quirkiness reveals itself. The most interesting aspects of Kent are along its coastline. I've always liked Margate, years before it started trying to regenerate with its Turner Contemporary gallery, hipster shops and Dreamland (though I like all of them too). A little further south, Broadstairs, Charles Dickens' favourite holiday spot, and Ramsgate, where Wilkie Collins gets two blue plaques (one for where he lived; the other where he was having an affair) and Van Gogh lived and taught briefly, couldn't be more different to still-slightly-seedy Margate. The three towns make up the isle of Thanet.

Many towns in Kent have a literary or artistic connection. Tracey Emin hails from Margate, and Turner spent some of his childhood there, and would visit the county throughout his life, the coast inspiring many of his seascape paintings. Mary Tourtel, creator of Rupert the bear, and Richard Dadd, the artist who killed his dad, were born in Kent. William Caxton, inventor of the printing press, was also born in the county. You can't go far in Canterbury without coming across Chaucer. And novelist William Golding worked as a teacher in Maidstone.

Dungeress is one of my favourite places in the UK. It has an eerie, post-apocalyptic feel with its unique shingle beach (containing hundreds of rare insects, birds and plants), fisherman's cottages painted black and nuclear power station in the distance. Famously the home of Derek Jarman and his garden, the cottage is still lived in by his former partner, and the garden still tended.

Remnants of war feature heavily along the Kent coastline. The giant concrete sound mirrors (acoustic early warning systems soon made obsolete by radar) near Dungeress in Denge are like the beautiful ruins of an ancient civilisation. Seven miles off the coast are the striking Maunsell sea forts, looking like rusty aliens in the sea. Nearby is the sunken SS Richard Montgomery, the masts of which can be seen just above the water. Filled with explosives which can't be touched, the ship could apparently explode at any time, causing a tsunami. Quite a few Martello towers survive in Kent. Built between 1805 and 1808 to guard against invasion by Napoleon; in the event, after the Battle of Trafalgar, they were never used.

Other notable Kent towns are Dover, of course famous for its iconic white cliffs (talking of iconic, one of my favourite things in Kent are their oast houses, very distinctive buildings once used for drying hops); Chatham, where the important naval docklands no longer function as such but remain open for the tourist industry; Whitstable, famous for its oysters and beach houses; Herne Bay, a beautiful seaside town where last year someone was beheaded with a Samurai sword; Deal, yet another lovely seaside town, has lots of bric-a-brac shops and Sandwich has a Roman fort and amphitheatre (I'm sure it's been done to death, but I've always wanted to do a business deal in Deal followed by eating a sandwich in Sandwich).

The tiny Isle of Sheppey is a weird place – there are people who live on the island their entire lives without ever leaving it. Although not even really an island (an island on an island, if you will) – there's a bridge connecting to the mainland – it has the isolated feel of one.

Previously on Barnflakes:
Art of the seaside
Margate's Shell Grotto
Sound Mirrors

Thursday, March 08, 2018

Top ten Nicholas Cage films

The nephew of director Francis Coppola can't act (his style is often called "operatic"), isn't good looking and has weird hair in every film he's in but you know what? I like him, and, unlike many other actors of his generation – Tom Cruise, Brad Pitt and Johnny Depp spring to mind – Cage has actually been in some decent films. And there are times – I can't say why – when I'm just in the mood for a Nicholas Cage movie.

1. Wild at Heart
2. Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans
3. Leaving Las Vegas
4. Raising Arizona
5. Adaption
6. The Rock
7. Con Air
8. The Weatherman
9. The Knowing
10. National Treasure

Cage used to own various properties in and around Bath, including a castle in Somerset and a town house in Bath's historic Circus, but has sold them in recent years due to debt. One of my favourite performances of his was when he turned on the Bath lights in 2009. More recently he was spotted in a Frome pet shop.

Wednesday, March 07, 2018

Lookalikes #40: Terry Riley and Terry Nutkins

Terry Riley, born 1935, American minimalist composer, and Terry Nutkins, 1946-2012, much-loved presenter of The Really Wild Show, where Chris Packham got his break in 1986.

I love the liner notes on Riley's A Rainbow in Curved Air, released in 1969:

And then all wars ended / Arms of every kind were outlawed and the masses gladly contributed them to giant foundries in which they were melted down and the metal poured back into the earth / The Pentagon was turned on its side and painted purple, yellow & green / All boundaries were dissolved / The slaughter of animals was forbidden / The whole of lower Manhattan became a meadow in which unfortunates from the Bowery were allowed to live out their fantasies in the sunshine and were cured / People swam in the sparkling rivers under blue skies streaked only with incense pouring from the new factories / The energy from dismantled nuclear weapons provided free heat and light / World health was restored / An abundance of organic vegetables, fruits and grains was growing wild along the discarded highways / National flags were sewn together into brightly colored circus tents under which politicians were allowed to perform harmless theatrical games / The concept of work was forgotten

Ah, the dream of the 1960s. It all seems pretty reasonable to me, but appears further and further away.

Previously on Barnflakes:
Lookalikes #1-40

Tuesday, March 06, 2018

Beauty and the Brutalist – Private View

My private view was last Saturday at 7:30pm. We thought we wouldn't make it. We were supposed to have left London last Thursday but couldn't because of the heavy snow; the same on Friday. We were all checking the weather every half hour throughout the day and starting to panic. Saturday morning came and we decided to give it a go, and left at 10:30am, battling through snow, ice, fog, rain and wind to finally arrive in Cornwall – once over leaden Bodmin moor, the sky cleared, the sun came out and it was a glorious evening of sunshine. The exhibition was hung in a couple of hours, and nibbles and wine were being served by 8pm. A good time was had by all and, the owner told me, more works were sold in that one evening than the last six exhibitions put together!

Many thanks to my parents, Helen and Lucy, without whom it wouldn't have been possible. Thanks also to those who turned up and bought stuff!

Special remembrance to my lovely uncle Bryce – my last ever conversation with him was about the exhibition; he told me to go bold – and I did.

Previously on Barnflakes:
Beauty and the Brutalist exhibition