Lionel gets a Decade Older

Lionel's do at Maxilla's is on my actual birthday, but as I am not planning anything much for this year, I'm all up for watching Lionel get a decade older in London.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And so it is that Georgia and I hit the 4.45 pm East Coast train to London. This takes just over two hours [a lot faster than we could have driven it!], and soon we are looking at Platform 9 and 3/4. Shortly after that Gig is ironing a shirt with her hair straighteners! Heavens.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We are at the Ravna Gora (which my Russian tells me means Even Mountains, and Rick's map tells him is a resort in Russia). And this is the same hotel that Rick stayed at when we were strutting our stuff at the Albert Hall, and then, at night staying at the Holland Park Youth Hostel.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The next building, on Holland Park Avenue has a memorial to the lives lost in Kiev, a sad testimony here in  London, UK and left untouched, not quite the case for Royal Park [whose flowers have pulled from the railings after closing time].

It's a hop and a skip up Ladbrooke Grove, turn left at its Tube and now we see the back of Latimer Road and over to Maxilla's. Well, here's Grafton, Charlotte and Skye; Raoul and Adrianna (whom Georgia remembers from Switzerland and Paul Francis's wonderful new panyard; Hazel, Pepe, Marvin, Emina, Freddy, Christine, Haroun, Dudley D, Lionel's sister, Joy (with whom Georgia and I stayed once for no reason at all that I can remember), now here's Lionel, and wonderful, wonderful food, and then Nostalgia playing. I join in rather hopelessly later on. And have a dance with Lionel.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It's eight weeks and one day since my anaesthetic, and I manage two pints and a Corona, this beating Georgia's intake. Heavens! We take in the walk back down the Grove in the warm late March evening. On what was actually my own birthday, but not recovered enough yet to do it justice! So thanks, Lionel, for providing this lovely celebration.

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Nostalgia at Notting Hill 2013

Now then Debs, it's a Tale of Two Carnivals.

Number One: London













Rhiannon and I spend the morning poring over the notes of Teaser and Under the Sea, trying to convert them to Foxwood songsheet style. Then it's over to Tooting Broadway, soprano pans over shoulder, get off at Latimer Road and magically find Maxella's just in time to get our pinkness of shirts, and join Nostalgia. Then, in Cambridge Gardens . . .


OMG! It's Garvin and Anne-Marie, covered in J'ouvert mud! Old old [not as in "old"] friends from Carnival days over a decade ago.

This excellent and surprise third meeting [Kathy from Cellofest, Ann from Leeds, and now these two, and their two children, well grown-up now children] sets me up for the day. Now here's Hazel and Lionel and Kwame and Kimani who I didn't see yesterday. David and wife doing the ginger beer and sandwiches again. The pace is slow, bordering on backwards. The weather is great; the atmosphere great; the fuel for the generator for the speakers has maybe run out; someone  sorts it.


















There's some good early dirty dancing. Raul and Adrianna get on down as well. Evange is still showing some notes to the Dutch. Nice to see the colour-coded notes in a Dutch pan.




Nice to see Roger and Scraperman again. Then at 4pm Rhiannon and I have to cut and run, well, stagger through the crowds, walk to Bayswater, the nearest open tube station.




[Since you asked, Debs, about the pulled muscle, it held up thanks largely to Rhiannon carrying my travel bag as well as her own pan.]





Met some more revellers on the tube, took a photo [see below]. London is such a great party.

Then back in Leeds to contemplate the following day's flash mob . . . . and the second carnival in the tale.

Panorama and rehearsals, London Notting Hill Carnival

Now then Debs, it's still silly season for me:

After Monday last year at Notting Hill Carnival, I swore Never again. Then, at Cellofest, Rhiannon said she always wanted to play London. So, why not? Looks good on the old cv [how cynical!], and if it 's only Sunday . . . And I can collect Sophie's 21st present.

[Here's Grafton saying goodbye to Sophie's pan.]

Exhausted, a comfy bed, a clean and tidy room in Rosebery Hall, a recipe for a good night's sleep. Not! Not until I remember the World Service podcasts on the iPod do I manage even half of that! On Saturday I discover the tele room and the kitchen that I missed the night before in the accommodation. Breakfast is ace, and then the 38 takes me all the way to Clapton.

Saturday morning in Clapton, walking along road with Grafton, bump into Cathy, a Cellofest parent and member of successful Under the Sea gang. It's an omen. Take a pic.










Go to Maxella's. Another gang of old friends. Here' s Emina, Raul, Adrianna, Christine, the Dutch and more. Later on , Lionel. Too poorly to play. Just listen.  Over to Portobello Road to buy a couple of bum bags, identify an Kenyan flag for the shopkeeper, by phoning up Amy to see what flag represented Henry at the Albert Hall.

Watch Panorama [again in the rain! What did they do to deserve that two years running?],  Saw the bands in practice on the street, Kensall Road, then perform on the big screen. Bumped into Freddy and into Ann Nimrod [old pal from City of Leeds], who both appeared and evaporated back into the night.

OMG! Ebony was good.

Spent more time looking for Charlotte, Sky, Grafton and Gary than standing with them!

Engage trolley and Sophie's pan, about to get christened at Notting Hill. Rhiannon meets me at Tooting Broadway, drink wine and try to find the bar lines to our three tunes, while her house mates watch tv. Get up early ish and do more of the same.

Notting Hill Carnival Part Two

It’s been a long ambition of mine, especially since I met Lionel, to play London Carnival with Nostalgia, his marching band, and since Leeds is out of bonds again, I saw this as an opportunity to fulfil this ambition.

Well, Debs, I planned to attend a rehearsal, chill out in London, play Carnival Sunday and Monday. What I got was the calypso monarch evening at the Tabernacle,  the somewhat unexpected  gig with Lionel and Kwame in Peterborough, the last two bands at Panorama, including coincidentally Real Steel [winners!], whom I had tried to contact in Plymouth and with whom years ago I had played at Leeds West Indian Centre [as mentioned in previous blog]. 

Monday morning finds Hazel and ourselves at a DIY stores buying new wheels for trailer which pulls the kit and bass and amps and stuff. The Nostalgia minibus’s clutch has died so Lionel has borrowed Hazel’s van [I hope you’re following this, Debs], and in the end me and Sophie get a lift over to Maxella’s where we become ancient Greeks for a day, thanks to Sarah, Pia and some sheets. , I walked around London for 12 hours in a black bra, Morgan’s shorts and a strip of white sheet.  And a rather unbecoming bumbag - there to prop up the pan de neck-ness. Sophie did similar, only she had her mum’s white trousers.

Men – young and old queued up to be photographed with Sophie. The first photo that I took of her she said, oh I don't really like being photoed. By Monday afternoon she was practically dragging them out of the crowds . . . . Well, not exactly! We had worked out most of the chords for More the night before on Hazel’s piano.

Notting Hill Carnival Bank Holiday Monday was packed; it started as a wonderful experience and turned into an endurance test. I even found myself praying for rain. Sophie left us at Kensal Road at 5.30, and got back to Leeds before we got back to Maxella’s [under Westway, just off Ladbrooke Grove] at 10.45. 

The Grand Union Canal was so green with weed it looks like a field of grass. 
Here's Freddy, Asquaye, Evange, Bernita, the rays from the dying sun,  Yoko and her daughter [from Japan], me and Sophie [from Leeds], Lionel, Adrianna, Raol, Dianna [leader of the Coventry crew], Dominic, Sharon and David [the wonderful, wonderful sandwiches and ginger beer crew], Daniel, and others whose names I either never knew or really can't spell.

They had made a delicious vegetable curry specially for me. Then I drove Hazel’s van back through the departing coaches and police vans of Notting Hill Carnival, guiding myself by the wonderful Maps app. Got to Seven Sisters Road at 2am, whereupon a gust of wind caught Hazel’s front door and locked us out. Hazel went off with my shoes and waterproof on over her pyjamas, drove her van to her parents . .  .

By the time Lionel arrived with the hire truck to leave with Hazel, she had returned with her parents’ set of keys. What a hoot.