July 4, 2009

It is currently 3:16am and I am still awake. What have I been doing all this time, I hear you ask. Well, trolling Facebook. Naturally.

Things I have learned:
– A boy and a girl I used to go to primary school with are now a couple. I can’t work out if this is cute or creepy.
– A boy from the year above me in primary school lists his religious views as “Egnostic”
– A girl from the year above me in primary school lists her political views as “Fuk all”
– A girl from my tutor group in secondary school, who left in year 9 to have a baby, lists one of her interests as “spendin time wit my sexy little daughter”. This is most definitely wrong. She’ll have a Playboy tattoo and whore earrings before you know it.

Christ, man. I know some fuckwits.



July 3, 2009

So I’ve been deliberating over how best to approach this blog. I don’t think any amount of words could encapsulate my excitement pre, post or during the Nunes/Holden gig at The Cluny in Newcastle.

Pre gig I was stoked because I knew that one way or another, I was going to meet The Nunes. No matter how much persuasion or pleading on my part was required, I was determined to get that all important picture. As it happens, no begging was necessary, which managed to keep my dignity somewhat intact. All of that kind of disintegrated when we were sitting having a drink before going into the venue and I heard “There you go” from NJ, and The Nunes walked past us. Twice. I did what any mental fangirl would do, and completely ignored her, then took out my glee on the person closest to me.

During the gig NJ kept pointing out where Nunes was, as I obviously couldn’t make eye contact. Following my initial excitement at seeing her, it all felt very natural, as if I get together with YouTube celebrities all the time. We were just two audience members enjoying the likes of Lesley Roley, Sapphires and Greg Holden, the latter being particularly spectacular. I’d heard of Holden prior to the gig, and knew he was quite a big deal. But I didn’t quite prepare myself for how stunning his voice would be live. I’ve developed a bit of a soft spot for Greg, much to NJ’s chagrin.

Following his set, he uttered the words that sent excitement and anticipation through my entire being:
“I’ll leave you in the capable hands of Julia Nunes.”

Then out she came. She was charming, witty and awesome as always. She led the crowd in a rendition of Build Me Up Buttercup and L-O-V-E. I sang along to Maybe I Will, and was ecstatic when she began the opening lines of Balloons, which is possibly my favourite song by her. It sounds a cliche, but I felt the rest of the room fall away and was just “in” the moment, youknowwhatimean?

She said herself and Greg would be available for “sweaty (her) and not so sweaty (him) hugs” after the gig. Needless to say, I wanted some of that action. So myself and James queued next to the merch table, and I ended up buying Greg’s album, A Word In Edgeways (which I would thoroughly recommend, obviously). James bought Julia’s first album, Left Right Wrong, for my birthday and got her to sign it with a message he wouldn’t let me see. Then it was my turn. I think I managed to hold it together. I mean, I didn’t cry or grab her inappropriately, so that’s a step better than I though I’d be. I even managed to make her laugh. James was having a problem working my camera, following my request for a “sweaty picture”. She was stood there for what seemed like a really long time (she was touching me and everything! alas, just my shoulder) and I remember saying something like, “We might be here a while”.

My life is complete; I made The Nunes laugh.

Not one of my funnier remarks, I have to say, but I was in such close proximity to The Nunes I think I’ll excuse myself. I also got her to sign my ticket, and we had another burst of merriment when she realised she was still holding my pen, as we waited patiently for her to be done with it. Hey, The Nunes can hijack my stationary for as long as she likes.

I noticed Greg was standing nearby, talking to a group of young men. Shamefully, I sort of lurked until he noticed me. I later realised I’d been lurking near the toilets. Smooth. Still, I had a chat with Greg and told him he could afford to buy some new brightly coloured, ridiculously tight trousers with my CD money (his choice for that night were bright red). He signed both my ticket and CD (the CD with ‘To Laura’, oh yeah), then upon my turning to go said, “Nice to meet you, Laura.” I sort of stammered and said “You too,” because I didn’t really expect them to be like proper people with manners and such.

But there they were. Real people. And they were both as lovely as they appear on the internet. I can honestly say it’s in the top 2 best gigs I’ve been to. It was great that there weren’t loads of people there; it made it far more cosy and personal. So thanks go to:
James, who only came because I was so excited but ended up enjoying it far more than he expected to
Julia and Greg’s “entourage”, which you can see at the end of this ( ) video, for their input to the sing-alongs and providing the hand stamps (upon closer inspection were noted to be lightbulb “Idea!” ones, the type you get in primary school)
Sapphires, who were still amazing despite having half of their group missing
Lesley Roley, who I think I scared afterwards by popping my head into another conversation she was having and saying, “You were really good!” before scuttling away
Greg Holden, for being pleased that you met me; I don’t care if you say that to everyone, it made me chuffed
Julia Nunes, for taking the time out to fly halfway across the bloody world and still give everyone the same treatment you probably would to someone who didn’t look like they wouldn’t look out of place staring through your bedroom window


Mission accomplished.


July 3, 2009

Last night I was at my local hairdressers when the woman who washes the hair, Joy, started passing around a photo. It was of one of the girls who cuts hair, Lorna, with her grandmother and, of all people, Michael Jackson. Supposedly he had been in the area, and judging from both his style and her height, it was maybe 20 years ago. My initial reaction was disbelief. Of course this isn’t Michael Jackson. Surely this is just some bloke dressed up. He’s got the hat, the loose bits of hair in his face, the glove. This is too much of a caricature of him to be real. Then I realised, obviously he must have looked like this at some point for people to copy him. Most of the footage I’ve seen of him is more recent, after having copious amounts of surgery. I’d hardly be a good judge on whether it’s actually Michael Jackson or not.

Then I think my disbelief was reinforced, as they were stood in what appeared to be a school canteen. Very showbiz, “MJ”.