20 Things I'll Miss About Winchester.

There are a million and one things that I will miss about Winchester. I’m not even relocating far away - I’m just heading to Southampton which is the next city over. Winchester couldn’t be more different though, and it’ll be those differences that I notice when I wake up to a train going past rather than the bells of the cathedral. 

So, in my last week of being a fully fledged Winchesterite, I’m doing lots of reminiscing and waxing lyrical about the city I’ve spent the last four years of my life in. Here’s a short selection of the long ol’ list things that I will miss about Winchester; 

1. Winchester in the Summer.
   Winchester in the summer is so ridiculously picturesque, it’s almost annoying. Cathedrals and beautiful architecture book end every street and the people are so unique, it’s hard not to be inspired and intrigued by the people that flock into town for things like The Hat Fair.
   
   
2. Cathedral Grounds.
   Speaking of people flocking; the Cat Grounds seems to have some sort of magnetic force field which attracts anyone and everyone in a two mile radius, making them lay out on the grass and sun-worship. Families with small French Bulldogs called Gloria and a thousand foreign students, rocking their bright orange NCS T-shirts.
   
   
3. Locals.
   This sounds strange, but you do learn to recognise certain Winchester faces even though you may never interact with them. There’s the man who often sits outside either Costa or ASK Italian who set his feet on fire not too long ago. There’s the older gentleman who busks with his steel guitar, playing the most beautiful Ice Cream Truck melodies that fill the air of the high street. The blonde woman, that crosses my path every week day; no idea who she is, or what she does, but she’s always walking the opposite direction to me around 930 every morning and she always smiles.
   
   
4. Maya from Starbucks
   Beautiful Maya; she knows my coffee order and I sometimes get her free stuff from Lush. She’s always happy and smiling and only once have I ever seen her hungover and even then it was still somewhat endearing.
   
   
5. Jack from Costa
   There’s a guy who works at Costa who’s saving for an MA in Cognitive Neuroscience. How cool is that? He tried to talk to me once like I didn't know what ‘synesthesia’ meant or like I didn’t quite get what ‘cognitive’ meant, but aside from that he’s interesting and he’s always nice to me when making my Peach Ice Tea to go (with an extra pump of Peach Syrup).
   
   
6. Sainsburies on my doorstep
   Although this has become an expensive habit, the staff at Sainsburies regularly see me rushing across the round at 7:49pm to stock up on Monster, carbs and Italian meats before they close at 8pm. Will I ever learn to go before closing? Probably not. Do they still ID me? Never; which makes me feel hella old.
   
   
7. Sunday Markets
   Winchester is famous for it’s markets; there’s a huge billboard at Waterloo Station at Christmas advertising Winchester’s Nordicesque Christmas Market and the rest of the year, Winchester alternates between the weekly fresh fruit and food markets to the Sunday markets. Sunday Market’s alternate between Arts & Crafts markets where you can find amazing things, including none other than my person favourites Remnant Black and Noah’s Arts & Crafts, and Vintage & Antique Markets where I can always find something to convince myself I need.
   
   
8. My Bath Tub
   Working for Lush, it’s an occupational hazard that you may fall in love with your bath tub. I’m moving from my two bed in Winchester to a room in a Young professional house in Southampton where my house-full of things must go into one room and there are only two showers. No tub. I have made this decision because of purely financial reasons and unfortunately the bath became something I couldn’t keep. Friends with baths, I will be inviting myself to your house for bathing on a semi-regular basis, hope you’re all okay with this.
   
   
9. KKB Sundeck
   Although I only visited the deck a couple times, each time was wonderful. Good smoothies, always catches the last of the summer evening sunshine, and a great view of the uni and the trees beyond. You forget you in the centre of a city when you’re surrounded by so much green.
   
   
10. Wolvsey Castle Ruins
    Continuing on with the theme of green…
    Wolvsey Castle Ruins are the perfect place for a picnic especially when the Cat Grounds are full of freshers and small children who don’t understand that I just wanna soak up a little sun and talk with my friends. People seem to forget it’s there, which is quite nice when you remember, but also it’s another good spot for the last of the summer evening sunshine.
    
    
11. The Cathedral ‘Spot’
    Staying on the idea of finding your own spot in the sun, my friend Cassi introduced me to her Winchester Sun Spot recently; third bench in from the right behind the Cathedral (where the majority of the christmas market stall usually are erected) - it’s so warm there; it’s sheltered so you never get the chill of the breeze, and you’re in direct sunlight for the most of the day so it’s the perfect place to top up your tan with a book or grab a quick coffee and soak up your recommended daily allowance of vitamin D on your lunch break!
    
    
12. Fruit Market Lady
    I want to say her name is Jane, something like that; Jane, or Kate…something short and simple which coincidentally is a lot like her. She’s just a woman, no more than 5’5 who works on the fruit and veg stall in Winchester, but boy does she have some pipes on her. She’s got that “Two punnet’sa raspberries for a pand!” down perfectly - the Winchester high street soundtrack would be lost without her shouts peppering the street.
    
    
13. Yasmin from the Co Op
    Yasmin doesn’t even know my name and that is absolutely fine. Every day after work, I’d get off the train at Winchester station and head into the Co Op. She was always there; hair and make up always impeccable, but in an effortless way. We bonded over sarcastic eye rolls at crazy customers and we wallowed in misery about how the days seemed neverending.
    
    
14. Winchester Coffee Lifestyle
    I know this must sound strange, but because Winchester is so small and because there are so many coffee shops, it’s very easy to fall into what I call Winchester Coffee Lifestyle. Meeting friends for coffee becomes a regular, if not daily, occurrence because everyone is so busy but they’re more than happy to stop for 1/2 an hour for a coffee.
    
    
15. The White Company
    I’ll miss The White Company store in Winchester because I worked for TWC in London and the stores, the scents and the high thread count sheets remind me of a really good time in my life. Except the time that a bottle of Wild Thyme Room Spray ended me in A&E but that’s another story.
    
    
16. Bar Girl/Bar Owners
    I worked in four bars in my time in Winchester, which was again a really good time in my life. Whilst I wasn’t a massive fan of the hours, the people I met and the silliness that took place made up for that. Winchester has many many bars and pubs, but most of them are owned by the same people; Jane owns The Mucky Duck, The Corner House, The Green Man and I’m sure something else, at the time Colin owned The Exchange, Alfie’s, The William Walker and then of course, David has The Black Bottle, The Black Rat, The Black Boy and now The Black Hole. When you work in hospitality in Winchester, it is very likely that at some point you will end up working for one of the aforementioned. They all come with their own pro’s and con’s but bar work’ll bring you an interesting lifestyle you can’t quite decide if you like or not.
    
    
17. Knowing every third person on the street
    Having worked in hospitality in Winchester, your world becomes smaller.
    Having lived in the city centre, your world becomes even smaller.
    You begin to realise that you recognise faces of almost everyone around you, if not you know them personally. This is good on one hand, because you’re never too far from a friendly face, unfortunately on the other hand, this also means you're never too far from a not-so friendly face. I like knowing people and saying Hi in the street, but I’m not a fan of the Wessex Whisperers spreading my  business around.
    
    
18. University
    Winchester University has been my centre of education for the past four years, so it’s no wonder that I’m going to miss it. The buildings themselves all hold sensitive and scandalous memories  (that belong not just to me, but also my many house/course mates) it’ll be interesting to see how I feel about it in a few years. Not to mention of course the lecturers; crying on Vanessa, a near-miss car crash with an unnamed American Studies lecturer and of course two unforgettable weeks in Vegas as part of the American Studies course.
    
    
19. Prison, Hospital, Law Courts, Melbury Lodge
    I don’t know whether it’s because Winchester used to be the capital of England, or whether it’s because it’s not too far from London, or even simply just because it’s a well established city but Winchester is well equipped for everything. If you need inspiration for your Creative Writing degree, it’s all right there waiting on your doorstep. I’ll miss that about Winchester, but I’m sure I’ll find new inspiration.
    
    
20. The friends that have become family.
    Of course, this is going to sound a little soppy, but it’s true. I met some life long friends in Winchester, some I speak to everyday and some I don’t speak to for weeks but when I do, we pick up right where we left off. My Aunt always used to say to me ‘It’s the friends you meet at University that you keep for life, not those you meet at College…’ - and she couldn’t have been more right. People who I thought were my best friends in College, I haven’t heard from in years. The girls and guys I met in my years in Winchester will always be with me, even if geographically they couldn’t be further away. 

Gypsy at The Savoy Theatre, London.

The character I know Imelda Staunton best for is that of Dolores Umbridge; the pastel pink and privileged witch that takes over Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry for a short time.
Her character was vindictive, manipulative and just down right mean. 

Her character in the musical Gypsy, which is currently running in London’s Savoy Theatre, couldn’t be more different. Spoiler Alert (so for those who like to be surprised skip down to the fifth paragraph) Staunton plays Rose, mother of two, who wont stop and can’t stop until her daughter Baby June is the star that Rose never was. When Baby June runs away from her Mother’s overbearing control, Rose turns to her other daughter Louise who has, all of her life, played second fiddle to Baby June’s limelight.

Time passes and eventually Louise finds something she loves to do that makes her happy and her mother, because it is not what she wants for Louise, isn’t happy. Rose realises that she has pushed her daughters away by forcing them to live their lives the way she would have if she could have - she lets Louise go. 

Louise, who now goes by the stage name Gypsy Rose-Lee, lives a successful life and is happy. Rose learns to be happy with her daughters success and also learns to focus on improving her own life.

Imelda Staunton leads an amazing cast in the revival of Gypsy, supported by Lara Pulver as Louise. I’m ashamed to say that I’m not caught on Imelda Staunton’s repertoire, but as I walked out  of the theatre after Saturday’s matinee, I made a mental note to IMDB Staunton’s career and sit through most if not all of them. She can act, I knew that - we all knew that. But, hell… she can sing. 

Imelda Staunton is phenomenal in Gypsy; her maniacal yet lovable Rose captures audiences attention from curtain-up. Obviously, Staunton is the star; the celebrity casting and she’s drawing audiences in. The theatre was full. However, as the show runs audiences learn it’s not just Imelda Staunton with some serious acting chops. 

Previously mentioned, Lara Pulver plays Louise and brings her from meek, badly coordinated, naive and easily mistaken for no more than seven or eight years old to the sexiest, sassiest, most grown up picture of elegance and class reminiscent of 50’s screen sirens meeting Dita Von Teese. 

Lara’s voice is perfect for the role and changes with Louise’s character in the most idyllic way, I couldn’t have cast Louise better. Although not in the spotlight until the very end, Lara’s Louise is magnetic and your eyes are simply drawn to her, wherever she is on the stage. Because I was so into Pulver as Louise, I didn’t realise until the interval where I recognised her from. Skimming the programme, I realised and it dawned on me like a penny dropping. Lara Pulver played Irene Adler/The Woman in the BBC’s Sherlock Holmes series starring Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman. At the start of Gypsy, Louise’s character is at the other end of any spectrum that Irene Adler is on, by the end of the show - it’s easier to make the connection. 

The Savoy is a beautiful theatre, although unfortunately the front of house areas are very small - fill it with theatre goers and all their bags and it’s smaller still. This makes popping to the bathroom, the bar or for some air at the interval damn near impossible. The older gentleman who sat next to me in the theatre was lovely though, and he didn’t mind that I had many bags; he even asked about my purchases and praised me on my choices. 

For those who need more convincing, check out Imelda Staunton's rendition of Rose's Turn from the 2015 Gypsy Official Cast Recording. 

If you have a Saturday free, or any day of the week and you have the chance to go to the theatre   - see Gypsy. It’s a wonderful, toe-tapping, warming day out. Fun for all the family.
(Pictures Credited to Original Source - LoveTheatre.com)

Return to the West End: Cats The Musical

Return of the 1980’s; Cats The Musical.

With Cats, Miss Saigon and Evita all returning to the West End within a year of each other it would seem that the dawning of another 1980’s era is upon us. I, for one, am alright with that. Some of the best musicals started out in the 1980’s. My first memory of Cats The Musical was driving round in my Dad’s Forest Green Land Rover Discovery, listening to The Magical Mister Mistofolees. Memory, the Elaine Paige version, was on every ‘West End & Broadway Musicals’ compilation CD and trust me, my Dad owned them all. Eventually, Really Useful Productions released a VHS of the original cast of Cats which quickly became one of the most played tapes in my house, along with Joseph & The Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat (starring Donny Osmond). Clearly, I was a musical theatre kid. By the age of six I was taking every dance class going and eventually I got to see Cats on stage with my Dad. I remember being absolutely in awe and so stunned that everything was exactly like it was on the VHS tape, starring Elaine Paige as Grizabella and John Partridge as the notorious Rum Tum Tugger. Upon hearing that Cats would return to the West End for a limited run in the winter of 2014, I was glad it was getting another run, but never thought I’d get to see it. My Grandmother, bless her, decided she would take my partner and I as our Christmas presents. I was thrilled. That was up until I saw Nicole Scherzinger had been cast as Grizabella. I didn’t understand – surely if Scherzinger was going to be in the West End she should be in something much cooler, more hip, and more sexy. Immediately, I was turned off. Not disappointed, and never to the extent that I wouldn’t want to go, but confused at the casting choice. I thought that casting Scherzinger would change the audience; I didn’t want to sit in a theatre full of teeny boppers, struggling to see past their ‘We Heart Nicole’ signs.

My, oh my was I wrong. In the lead up to seeing the show, I tried to stay away from reviews because I wanted to be pleasantly surprised and, dear God, was I. I will willingly eat all of my words of Nicole-Nay-Saying, turn on my heel and praise her to the high heavens. Whilst her posture and cat-acting was a little questionable at times, her movement on the whole was completely on par with everyone else on stage. Her vocals were absolutely on point and exceeded every expectation that I ever had for her performance. Never have I ever felt chills like that in Memory. I was never really enamoured with the musical theatre anthem, but the way Scherzinger sings it blows my mind. There’s a massive key change toward the end of the song after, what is in comparison quite a low section, and she knocks it completely out of the ball park. No idea how she does that every night, but judging by other reviews (which I’ve now read) she does. “Sunlight through the trees in summer, endless masquerading, like a flower as the dawn is breaking, the memory is fading... ...Touch me, it’s so easy to leave me, all alone with the memory of my days in the sun.” Not only was I astounded with her powerful key change but her stamina in the lower vocal range was seriously impressive for someone, who I had so wrongly deemed, ‘just a pop star.’

Sadly there is a downside to the revival of Cats. My favourite numbers from Cats were always Macavity and The Rum Tum Tugger (of course Mistofolees will always have a soft spot in my heart.) There was a somewhat mislead and odd attempt to modernise the show by inserting a rap section. Yep, a rap section into a TS Eliot masterpiece. Why is The Rum Tum Tugger suddenly a rap star? Revolutionising the show for a more modern, ethnic audience? I would have preferred the original and so would a lot of other people I can bet. Also, they kept Old Deuteronomy on stage throughout the whole interval. Why is that? The stage hands and technicians then came out to talk to him and bring him his bottle of water. Why not do that backstage? Maybe I’m missing a huge artistic choice, but I don’t think so. If I have missed something, clue me in. To close, my thoughts on Cats have left me with some questions. Would Cats have sold so well if Andrew Lloyd Webber hadn’t cast international star Nicole Scherzinger? Why can Cameron Mackintosh afford to revive his 80’s musical hit Miss Saigon into the West End as an open ended run, whereas both Webber’s 80’s productions are only guaranteed limited runs? Anyway, that’s enough high-brow wondering for the mean time. I’m going to put the clip of Scherzy doing her thing on Memory here, and before people get all uppity about recording in a theatre – it wasn’t me. This is borrowed from YouTube. None but the first picture are mine either, so credit where credits due and it's not me. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=obGVYstNHwA (The magic happens from about 4:35 onwards...) Happy days.

Off to the Theatre: Back home to London.

Good evening and welcome back. I was a musical theatre kid, so please allow me to splurge my knowledge and excitement...But be aware of massive spoilers :)

“Miss Saigon is not standard musical theatre. Saigon requires not only rock and roll singing chops. It’s sung-through, it’s truly an opera. Also because of the interracial casting – half of your cast has to be Asian!” 

In 1990, Cameron Mackintosh was described by The New York Times as “the most successful, influential and powerful theatrical producer in the world” – he’s still gracing the front pages of newspapers, with not only the news that he’s bought the Victoria Palace (currently housing Billy Elliot) and the smaller Ambassador’s Theatre but with mixed reviews of his 2014 revival of the classic Miss Saigon. 

As the producer of shows including Les Miserables (the West-End’s longest running musical), The Phantom of the Opera, Miss Saigon, Oliver! and Cats - Mackintosh is not afraid of bringing the classic’s back to London’s theatrical home. Miss Saigon had its first run of over four thousand performances in the West End, at the Theatre Royal on Drury Lane in September of 1989.
Young Lea Salonga landed the role after a long and arduous audition process which had visited Hawaii before finding Salonga in Manila, Philippines. Only 18 when she first auditioned for Miss Saigon, Lea went on to voice Mulan, Princess Jasmine and star in many more of Cameron Mackintosh’s productions including playing both Eponine and Fantine in Les Miserables. Lea was the first Asian actress to play these Les Mis roles. 

Reminding Mackintosh of Salonga, is newcomer to the stage Eva Noblezada, playing Kim in the 2014 revival. “Eva’s going to be our new Lea...” Cameron Mackintosh told The Daily Mail. Noblezada, never having played professionally before had only performed in shows at her school.
This is where I come in. Having been such an avid fan of all things musical theatre, when I heard at the start of this year that Miss Saigon would be returning to the West End, I knew I had to go and see it. 
I mentioned to my Grandmother, and we went as my 21^stbirthday gift last weekend. (24.05.14)
I poured over musical soundtracks when I was younger, and even took part in some amateur dramatics that attempted some selections from Miss Saigon (namely Movie In My Mind), I was ready beyond belief to add Miss Saigon to my musical collection. With the opening to “Dreamland/Heat is on in Saigon” stuck in my head all day, we took our seats for the 2:30 matinee. 

The heat is on in Saigon, these girls are hotter than hell. Don’t tell me I’m reassigned, all that chicken-shit sucks, tonight I’m out of my mind – not to mention ten bucks!

Is there a war going on, don’t ask I ain’t gonna tell! 

Having only known Johnathan Pryce as The Engineer from the Making of Miss Saigon DVD, I was happily surprised with Jon Jon Briones’ performance. Not only was the performance everything and more, this revival is Briones’ return to Miss Saigon in London as he was in the original company with Salonga in 1989. Briones’ has travelled the world performing in Miss Saigon and his performance on Saturday was a reflection of that. He knew the role like the back of his hand and was exactly the right balance between desperate, sleazy and comical.
“Some people need two days to recover from the show; they were so shocked and so moved by what they saw. So every night, every matinee, people must believe that it’s a unique performance especially for them...” which is what Claude-Michel Schonberg said to the 1989 cast, in the Making of Saigon DVD. The sentiment was entirely true to that of the cast I saw on Saturday. How the people on that stage put the audience through the same heart-wrenching emotions every day, I will always be in awe.
 

Kim, lead role, now being played by both Eva Nobelzada and Tanya Manalang, is always played by a young South East Asian looking girl. Eva, from Charlotte NC, has the classic look and the lungs of steal to go with the fully sung-through score. Eva is only eighteen, so will currently only be performing four shows a week. Tanya Manalang, who is the Kim Alternate (not understudy) will be playing Kim in the remaining shows, backed by understudy Julia Abueva. Both Manalang and Abueva are Filipina but whereas Manalang has been in theatre all her life, Abeuva graduated from high school in Singapore two months before starting rehearsals for Miss Saigon. Whilst understudy for Kim, Julia Abeuva is simply billed as ensemble in the programme, Tanya is billed as Alternate Kim.
Unfortunately having Eva being dubbed by fans and media as “the second lightning bolt” of perfection for the role of Kim, second to Lea Salonga, fans are asking why Tanya Manalang isn’t as present in production advertisement as Eva. Eva is playing four shows a week; Tanya is apparently covering the rest, which leaves her at three shows a week – practically equal to Cameron Mackintosh’s shining star.
 

On Saturday, 24^th of May, we saw Eva Noblezada as Kim – and she is entirely worth all the hype. Young and pint-sized but still with enough emotion to fill the Prince Edward theater five times over. Her onstage relationship with Alastair Brammer (Les Miserables, Queens. Les Miserables, The Movie) will continue to push audiences to believe in the love story between American G.I and lost, orphaned Vietnamese woman. Brammer shines as the conflicted yet passionate Chris but Eva’s performance and devotion to Chris does leave audiences bitter – my boyfriend called Chris “flitty”, which is probably a slight over exaggeration on his part, but I can understand where he was coming from. Both Rachelle Ann Go as Gigi was everything she needed to be and more sass to boot, John played by Hugh Maynard was possibly the best John I've seen in all my YouTube trawling. I prefer him to Simon Bowman (original John) I know saying that is sacrilege, but still.

The inclusion of new Ellen song ‘Maybe’ confused me; ‘Now That I’ve Seen Her’ was always one of my favourite songs from the show, but for the revival Mackintosh, Boubil and Schonberg agreed to attempt to connect audiences with Ellen a little more with the rewriting of the song that Ellen sings as a reaction to meeting Kim for the first time. Dutch and Japanese productions of Miss Saigon have heard ‘Maybe’ before, but the London audiences will be the first to hear it in English. Personally, I prefer ‘Now That I’ve Seen Her’ – it evokes more emotion that ‘Maybe’ ever could. The lyrics alone, provide more doubt and more real emotion that audiences could connect with – ‘Maybe’ is full of insecurity and panic. 

Now that I’ve seen her, there’s no way to hide. She’s not some fling from long ago.
Now that I’ve seen her, I know why he lied. And I think it is better when I didn’t know.
In her eyes, in her voice, in the heat that filled the air, part of him still lingers there.
I know what pain her life today must be, but if it all comes down to her or me...
I don’t care, I swear I’ll fight.

The above lyrics from ‘Now That I’ve Seen Her’ give Ellen much more of a backbone; much more of an opinion and I believe that would be a more obvious reaction for Ellen to have. In ‘Maybe’ there is too much doubt that Chris is flaky enough to leave Ellen for Kim – almost as if Ellen doesn’t trust Chris to have moved on. Understandably there is the issue of Tam (Kim’s Child that she has just revealed is fathered by Chris) but even with this in consideration; I still believe ‘Now That I’ve Seen Her’ would be the stronger song for this character at this moment. In this clip with Kerry Ellis (Wicked, WWRY, Les Miserables, My Fair Lady, Chess, Oliver!) the accusation at Chris comes across so well, and that is completely missed in ‘Maybe’.

 

Overall, the show was the best I’ve seen in years and will remain if not top, in my top three West End shows for years to come. Never have I ever sat in an auditorium convincing myself to hold my shit together. You will not cry, this is not happening to you. I have never experienced such an emotional reaction to anything fictional; not anything. I use the word fictional, because the characters are fictional. Please understand that I do understand that the show has resonance in reality and is based on reality. 

The cast were absolutely amazing; if I could afford to go back tomorrow I would. And the next day. And the next day. And the next day. You get the picture. Miss Saigon will always have a place in my musical theatre heart. Well done to the cast, crew (technical and creative) and of course Cameron Mackintosh.

Til next time, stay safe. 
BarGirl. ♥

Collectables

They say that the word ‘now’ is a bomb that’s thrown through your window, whose wick you can watch fizz away into nothing. When I think about time, I think about how things come back into fashion; like leotards and high-waisted shorts, skinny jeans and Converse.

Time is a dressmaker whose speciality is alterations.

Time is who I was and who I am and all the things I know now.

Time is the new and the old and the difference in between.

The only thing that stops time is a photo. A moment caught on camera, captured for the world to see; what we were wearing, what we were doing, who we were friends with…

*

Manhattan, NYC. 2001.

 Jason’s grandmother had sadly passed away recently and she’d left him her house in Dallas. He was more interested in the vintage camera he’d found in the attic than anything else in the house. The moment he saw it, he knew he had to have it. There would have been so much history wrapped up in it, he just wanted to be a part of it. It was a camera that, he had decided, was probably from the early sixties. It had a dent in the side, but it was still worth the best part of $500, and that was today. Jason couldn’t imagine how much it would have cost in the sixties; let alone how much it must have meant to someone.

It was still early in the morning but the sun was already bright in the Manhattan sky. People in suits rushed up and down town to get where they had to be and no one noticed that the sky was unusually clear for early September.

Smartly dressed in his grey pinstripe suit, Jason left his apartment on 87^th and Lexington just like he did every morning. When every morning was the same, he could cruise through on autopilot. This morning was slightly different as he had to pop into Duane Reade on the corner to pick up some photos he’d had developed. His grandmother’s camera had at least fifty undeveloped pictures on it.

As he walked to the bus stop, packet of photos in hand, he thought about his family and mused about his life just as you do when you’re walking somewhere you know so well. His wife left for work the same as he did every morning, but she went the opposite way; she worked on the West Side.

His family life was hectic, but that faded from his head as he got to the bus stop.

Settling on the bus, Jason sat in the same seat he did every day. Second in from the right; it was the idyllic spot to watch his favourite city go by and to psyche himself up for the day ahead. He tucked his newspaper under his arm, and flipped open the lip on the packet of photos; he expected family photos, old family pictures of kids playing in the sun or maybe a school graduation.

 It was this fascination with the past that enthralled the man so much into parting with his money for some photos someone else would have just let rot in an attic.

*

Dallas, TX. 1963.

Bonnie and her friends practically ran to the corner of the street, squeezing through the masses of people and hubbub on the street, all trying to get to the same place.
One girl put her hands on Bonnie’s shoulders “This is the most exciting thing to happen all year!” A group of young girls had been given the day off work to see the President and his wife on their visit to Dallas; they lined the sidewalk all wanting the best view.

Outside the Texas Book Depository in Dealey Plaza the streets were a mass of people all moving at once. A whole range; young women just like the secretaries from the office down the street; old men who wanted to say they’d seen President Kennedy in the flesh before they died, little children who looked on in awe and laughed at the hordes of people hunting down their spot on the grass bank. Everyone wanted their glimpse of the Kennedy’s; he was a celebrity and she a fashion icon.

“Do you remember that little pink dress she wore in Vienna?” The youngest of the girls asked Bonnie. Ensuing a moment of clamouring fashion talk, all the girls talking over one another, smoothing down each other’s clothes and plucking at loose threads.

Bonnie swapped the camera in her hands back and forward; it was heavy and her hands were slightly clammy. She didn’t understand why she felt so nervous. Winding the handle that allowed the camera to capture moving images; Bonnie made sure she had enough recording time to see the President’s motorcade.

Having a camera at her age was a complete rarity. Bonnie knew this, she knew she didn’t earn very much herself and she knew people around her were looking, wondering how she had the means to a camera such as this one. Truth be told, it was a gift from her parents for her twenty first birthday this year. They both saved all year so she could have it and it meant so much to her. And now look, here she was. Standing on the edge of history; holding history, watching history. She was going to be a part of history.

“Oh gosh, I can hear them coming!”

The streets grew quiet as the sound of a car pulled along an adjoining street. The cheers made the tension in Dealey Plaza that much more exciting. The people of Texas collectively held their breath.

“Bonnie, get ready! He’s coming. He’s really coming.” Bonnie’s friend tittered in her ear as she smiled.  Bonnie took a shaky breath in and held her camera up to her face as the President’s motorcade got closer.

 ‘Maybe he’ll be wearing a grey suit’ Bonnie thought to herself, her excited eyes craning to see. ‘He always looks good in grey. And Jackie, maybe pink again? No. White, she’ll be wearing white I bet.’

The President’s motorcade seated the President in the back along with his wife Jackie accompanied by Governor Connelly and his wife in the front. As it slowly entered Dealey Plaza the cheering erupted; the shouting and the sight of handsome President Kennedy made Bonnie smile unawares. Her chest swelled with a rise of patriotism in her heart, there was no positive emotion that she wasn’t feeling; happiness and the excitement of standing at the edge of history.

President Kennedy was smiling and waving and as he pulled past Bonnie was adamant he looked right at her and smiled. She struggled to keep her camera up and steady from all the jostling around her.

Jackie Kennedy, America’s first lady, as beautiful and poised as ever sat next to her husband. She waved delicately out to the crowd and giggled happily at their smiling joyful faces; she held the flowers she’d been given upon arrival in Dallas on her lap, from where Bonnie was stood they looked like red roses. Governor Connelly and his wife were equally as present, smiling just as the Kennedy’s were but something was different.

‘He is the Governor of Texas, but he’s nowhere near as handsome as Mr. President’ Bonnie thought as her eyes followed the car, along with her camera. ‘They’re just not as glamorous.’

 “Mr. President, we love you!” Sandra from the office yelled as the car approached. Bonnie laughed; everyone in the office knew Sandra was a big fan. Sandra’s eyes had glazed over with glee; she wanted to commit this memory to her brain for life. The day she saw President and First Lady Kennedy, in her very own town, down the street from her own little office job.

An unexpected sound ripped across the forecourt of the plaza, making every single head turn, every hair on the back of every neck prickle up.

 “What was that!?” The girls grabbed onto each other, their frantic eyes scanned the crowds around them. Bonnie kept her camera up, confused. She saw people grasping their children close and collapsing flat on the grass as if to avoid gun shots or an explosion.
“Did the motorcade blow a tyre?”

Another bang.

And then one more.

“Oh my Gosh, Kennedy’s been shot. They shot the President!” Someone in the crowd cried as people fled from the streets in hysteria, some already in floods of tears.  Bonnie looked up from the viewfinder on her camera to see the right portion of her beloved President’s head get blown away into nothing, across Jackie’s white suit.

“No…They’ve shot the President!”

Bonnie’s hands fell out of the air, her limbs suddenly jelly. The camera landed harshly on its side.

*

Leaning his shoulder against the side of the bus made Jason’s seat rumbled as he watched Manhattan fly by his window; the tourists, the New-Yorkers, the jay walkers. His unopened pocket of his freshly developed photos sat on the seat next to him. The bus was fairly empty, even as it crawled down town.

As he was about to open the photos and leaf through what he was sure to just be pictures of his grandmother’s youth when he noticed a little boy playing a few seats in front of him. He smiled, the child could have been no older than seven or eight and he sat with his mother reading aloud all the street signs that they passed on their route.

“East seventy second street…”

The vibration on the man’s shoulder was stronger than usual, he knew because he took this bus on this route so often, sometimes twice a day.

“East sixty fifth street…”

He felt it in his legs, and eventually it crept up and grew in his chest too.

“East sixtieth street…”

The rumble kept growing, quietly for now but definitely getting bigger, getting faster.

“East fifty seventh street…” The child went on.

“Mommy...Mommy!” The child tugged on his mother’s coat sleeve.

“Look Mommy, a plane!” he said, his skinny little arm pointed up.

Jason, in his the grey pinstripe suit, looked up again from his blackberry and craned his neck to glance out of the dirty bus window.
The little boy was right, it was a plane.

All the man could think was “My God…’

The man’s eyes were transfixed on the large moving object in the sky above them.
He strained his eyes to make sure he was seeing what he thought he was seeing.
He raised his phone to the window and he took a picture.

‘...that plane is flying awfully low.”

*

Newtown, CT. 2012.

Show and tell was Izzie’s favourite part of her teaching week. Friday morning, in her elementary school, meant that Miss Izzie Smith got to hear all about her student’s favourite new toy or something they’d done with their families over the past weekend. It was first grade she was teaching, which meant all of her students were only six or seven but seeing their faces light up when they talked about their older brother’s new car or the new family dog made Miss Smith’s week. 

Currently, Oscar James was snivelling at the back of the classroom because it wasn’t his turn to take Chocolate, the class hamster, home with him this weekend. Megan Rowe was doing a wonderful show-and-tell presentation about a camera her Uncle Jason had given her when she and her family went to visit him in New York City, or as Megan referred to it “…the place where the all lights are always on and no one ever tells you to turn them off…”

Her Uncle Jason had become very well known in the last ten years or so because he’d bought a vintage camera online, the camera Meg was telling class 4E about now, and he’d found pictures from 1963 when Kennedy was shot stored in the film. He eventually commissioned the photos into an exhibition at The Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York and gave the camera to Megan, as long as she promised to let her Mommy and Daddy take very good care of it.

“…and Uncle Jason says that if I held it up to my face like this…and look through this tiny whole here…” Miss Smith listened intently to Megan’s story “…that I can see history from all of America…”  She was interested, but also delighted in the progress Megan had made since she’d been in this class. That was the trouble with being an elementary school teacher, especially with younger children, you get so attached when you watch them grow up and then when they move up into the next grade, you end up missing their funny little ways.

Class started at 7.30am, because the younger ones don’t have homeroom, but about 9.35am Miss Smith heard what she thought sounded like popcorn loudly popping come over the classroom intercom.

Megan heard it too and stopped talking momentarily to look up at her teacher.

“It’s okay Megan, you carry on…” Izzie smiled, nodding enthusiastically to the little blonde girl.

Smoothing her grey pencil skirt down, Izzie headed over to the door of her classroom, looking back at her students for a second who were still all watching Megan. Izzie opened the door and stepped out slightly, she noticed Miss House from the classroom opposite doing the same.

“Did you hear the…” Izzie’s casual comment to Miss House was cut off by a door slamming at the end of the corridor their class rooms were on.

A man stood at the door way about 100ft away from the women and looked at them for what felt like eternity, before slowly, sadistically raising his right arm until it was parallel to the shiny grey tiles under his feet.

In his arms he cradled what the women knew to be a gun and yet a second passed before they registered.

“Run!” Izzie screamed at Miss House across the corridor and they both slammed themselves back into their classrooms as Adam Lanza, the man with the rifle, ran towards them.

Doors closed but not locked, both women rallied their children who were beginning to panic.

“What’s wrong Miss Smith?”

“Why are you running, we’re not allowed to run?”

*

They say that the word ‘now’ is a bomb that’s thrown in through your window, whose wick you can watch fizz away into nothing.

It turns out that time can stop, if only for a moment.  

Clocks stop ticking, phones stop ringing and dogs stop barking.

These are the moments we remember for the rest of our lives.

Summer In NYC; 2010

The summer of 2010 I was halfway through my BTEC national diploma in Performing Arts and my French A Level when I moved transatlantic to stay in New York for a month and a half. I was in heaven.
I’d just come back from performing at a festival in Oostende in Belgium but nothing could have prepared me for the sticky summer city heat that I felt when I got off my plane at JFK – I’ve never known a city so humid. London is never that bad in the summer.

Thinking I’d be spending my summer in a normal city I had only packed jeans, t-shirts and the occasional summer dress. I should have known, NYC is not a normal city. The city that doesn’t sleep; the big apple.

I’m a city girl at heart and living in London for most of my life I’ve noticed – these cities have their personalities. London is the promiscuous Miss that’ll go straight out after work, dance and drink until the walls can’t hold her up, find someone to go home with and then appear back at work the next day in yesterday’s eyeliner and a dress that also looks vaguely similar. Manhattan is the socialite butterfly flitting from Fifth Avenue, to Central Park, to a bar to a house party in the village before rushing back up town as the sun rises to squeeze in breakfast with her family.

As well as the cities, the inhabitants certainly have some interesting character traits about them. John T Cahill for example, wore an expensive suit and handmade shoes. He was so uber friendly I had begun to wonder if I’d walked into a movie. He was a business man, and he asked if I as new to the city (clearly I had a sign on my back reading New York Virgin, or it could be the constant look on my face of amazement). I met him on one of my first days in Manhattan whilst I was walking around the 1.58 mile jogging track which surrounds the Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis Reservoir, otherwise just known as the Central Park Reservoir. We only spoke for about ten minutes but before going on his own way, he gave me his card and said if I ever needed a tour of the city, he’d be delighted.  A part of me always thought he thought I was a little older than I was; me stood there, wide-eyed and reasonably innocent, having only just turned seventeen.  When I look back on it now there had to have been something a little unsavory about his character.

Crumbs Bakery on 93^rd street played host to my next meet cute with a New York random. His name now escapes me but he looked vaguely like Jeremy Renner (Hawkeye, Avenger’s Assembled.) He was wearing a t-shirt emblazoned with TEXAS across his chest. Having grown accustomed to the perfect homemade lemonade, the idyllic mix of sweet and sour, that the Crumbs Bakery provided, Crumbs had become a regular pit stop for me in the sweaty heat.
So, killing some time chatting to Texas and his highly intellectual young son Achilles Alexander was fine by me. (I don’t remember Texas’ name, but Achilles Alexander is a name you tend not to forget ) We chatted about Manhattan, the topic of everyone’s conversation no matter if New York virgin like me or New York born and bred like Texas. Then  Achilles had finished his cookies and it was time for them to skateboard home.

I was staying in an apartment on 87^th and Lexington, on the fifth floor of an amazing building with a doorman. Having a doorman was an incredibly new experience for me. Someone to hold the door open for you, tell you about the weather, take in your take aways, hail you a cab, say hi to you every day and this particular doorman always made baby small talk with city dog; Brody. Brody was a small, hairy yet cuddly dog of undefined breed, who inhabited the apartment with me. Part of the deal of my staying there was that I walk Brody morning and night. Admittedly it was more midday and midnight, but either way, the dog got walked.

Along with Brody, the apartment was everything I needed and more. Two lounge areas separated by a partitioned wall, a single room, a perfectly adequate sized kitchen and a double master bedroom with an ensuite bathroom which was off limits to me. But not apparently to my cousin who occasionally frequented the apartment (his parents owned it). I thought he was Manhattan’s golden boy attending Hunter College and looking at prospective Universities this summer, but it turns out he actually likes to invite his friends over and sit in the ensuite bathtub with them, smoking weed with his stuck up, Upper East Side friends.
For an example of their uppity behaviour, my cousin Zachary and his friend Ian were paying, parting with actual dollars, to learn how to do a back flip; because it’s something so necessary to know in the Manhattan life style.  A professional back flip teacher was instructing them – for God’s sake. Come on, find an open space and teach yourself if your heart is so set on it.  They have the vast open space that is Central Park on their doorstep and yet they choose to trek all the way to Brooklyn to flip into a pile of foam blocks.

(NB; Smoking weed in a public place is an offence, it is not however in your own property or on The Great Lawn in Central Park. From what I’ve heard, the Great Lawn is similar to Speaker’s Corner – you can pretty much get away with anything.)

Zachary was only a year older than me so when it came time for him to leave the city for a weekend to visit Universities in Washington DC, I tagged along for the ride out of curiosity.  We stayed in a delightful middle of the range hotel called The Georgetown Suites (1111 30^th Street, NW) -  the hotel is located right in the centre of Georgetown which meant the rows of idyllic shops, on M Street, were not far away. I particularly enjoyed the whole store dedicated to Ben and Jerry’s (something I have never seen in the UK.) Staying in DC, however was the only time I’ve ever had anything stolen from me, the night we happened to visit Ben and Jerry’s after dinner at a local restaurant I realised my sunglasses had been stolen. So to all you New York safety sceptics, I felt safer in the heart of NYC than I did in DC.

We had bookings to visit George Washington University as well as American University and The University of Georgetown. I went to the Georgetown viewing but quickly realised, as beautifully architecturally  built historic G-Town was, I could find other things I was more interested in seeing than the inside of a classroom I’m never going to study in. Or should that be, seeing the inside of a classroom I could never afford to study in? $20,000 per year is not something I happened to have sat at home.

In one short afternoon in the sweltering DC summer, way hotter than Manhattan by the way, I walked to the Lincoln Memorial, all the way along the mall, up the pool of reflection to the WWII memorial, down to the obelisk and finally back up to the White House. I must have walked miles that day. I distinctly remember sitting on the lawn in front of the White House and thinking that this would be the closest I was ever going to be to Obama; I’m actually okay with that.

After Zachary was done in DC, we headed back to Manhattan. I was glad for the excursion, but I still felt I was missing out on things happening in the city. Before I went to DC, I’d been in New York for almost two weeks, in that time I’d managed to do most of the touristic sight-seeing that everyone expects you to do. In one afternoon, I did Wall Street, Staten Island, The Statue Of Liberty and I’d wandered around Grand Central a lot too.
My visit was ten years after the 9/11 attacks, and I did feel compelled to visit the memorial site at Ground Zero. A massive void marks the place where the towers once stood now surrounded by rows upon rows of memorials. FDNY- Never Forget. PDNY – Never Forget.  A bronze plaque runs along a building next to the site and it reads “Dedicated to those who fell, and those who carry on.” That saying and my time spent at Ground Zero stayed with me for the rest of my trip even though I was only eight  in 2001 when the news billowed with smoke and sirens and even after ‘d come back from DC to start living in NYC, instead of holidaying.

In one of my remaining weeks in NYC, I visited The East Village taking in the student meets bohemian feel.  I remember particularly enjoying lunch at The Life Cafe, reading The Village Voice. The Life Cafe is where Jonathan Larson chose to set his rock opera version of Puccini’s La Boheme; Rent. I had performed  in my theatre company’s version of Rent the October previous to my trip, so this lunch felt slightly like a pilgrimage to the place where bohemian life was all anyone ever needed.

Rounding off my trip, there was only one more NY tradition to indulge in; Broadway. I managed to convince a friend to come with me to see Burt Bacharach’s “Promises Promises” starring Kristin Chenoweth (Wicked, Pushing Daisies, Glee) and Sean Hayes (Jack in Will & Grace). With dancers with legs like the Rockettes and singers that sent shivers down my spine, it was a thoroughly engaging performance. My friend enjoyed it equally as much, because a few weeks after my arrival back in London, I received an email about how he’d taken his whole family back again.

When I look back on my time in New York now, three years down the line, I remember it all like it was last summer. Looking through the thousands of photos stirs the feelings of a battle between innocence and independence that I was riddled with at the time. I filled my spare time with visits to Barnes & Noble, I spent far too much money on Pinkberry, and I fell in love with the Starbucks’ drink only available in America, and so perfect on a humid day in the city; Passion Tea Lemonade.

If I could take certain people back with me, I would go tomorrow. The city changes just as fast as I do and I know I won’t be able to stay away from the bright lights of Manhattan forever. I miss sitting on the steps of the MET just watching the world go by, finally finding  Strawberry Fields in Central Park right next to The Dakota Building that John Lennon was shot at, finding the cutest little stationary shop in Grand Central, lunch in Union Square reading Teen Vogue and Seventeen magazines. Oh, and who could forget my little moments in Crumb’s Bakery on 93rd street?

One warning to anyone planning a day in Brooklyn, I would get the metro. Walking bridge is an initially a great idea but when you’re just as far in as you’ll ever be off the other side and you’ve been walking across for twenty minutes, you’ll regret that decision. I speak from experience.