Keris Stainton

Now that's what I call a Saturday night

Saturday afternoon I went to Manchester with my sister and after a freebie hand massage from the cute bloke on the Marc Jacobs counter followed by a yummy dinner with yummier wine, we went to Strictly Come Dancing LIVE.

We were both giddy as very giddy things and we weren't disappointed. I got butterflies as soon as I glimpsed the massive glitter ball through the glass door panel and then, when we were actually in our seats, I was beside myself (actually, I was beside my sister ... b'boom).

They'd totally recreated the Strictly set in the MEN Arena and it was just magical. (Does anyone else hear that kid off the EuroDisney advert when they hear the word "magical". Just me then?)

I don't want to give too much away in case anyone else is going (is anyone else going?), but I must admit I was disappointed when I heard Christopher Parker was on since he was, let's face it, utterly crapulous, but he (along with my beloved Craig) totally stole the show.

Everyone was brilliant though (well, Martin Offiah was only okay...) and I LOVED it. And Zoe Ball did this, one of my favourite dances of any series.

Bwak bwak bleurgh (the sound of a hen night)

Finally! I know you've all been desperate to hear about it. So, Sarah is one of my oldest friends. I met her and her sister, Susan, outside Matt Goss's place about 15 years ago. I was singing Bucks Fizz songs, they joined in, and the rest is ... er ... history.

So Sarah's getting married at the end of this month and so, at the end of last month, I headed to the Big City (London) to give her a send-off. Due to the hopelessness of British train travel, we only had time at the hotel to get changed, slap on some slap, eat a couple of doughnuts (London = Krispy Kremes) before heading out into the night late afternoon.

The bride to be is in the middle, working the cleavage. :)

We went first to the Absolut Ice Bar. This is an, um, bar made of, um, ice. No, really. All of it: the glasses, the seating, everything. It's minus 6 and you get a lovely thermal cloak and gloves to wear.

I know this pic is a bit blurred, but I love it because of the background. We look like some sort of dementedly happy secret society!

It was really good, but I couldn't have stayed there much longer than the allotted hour. I'd only managed to take one sock with me to London (?) and one of my feet was freezing (don't worry, I had boots on).

From there we went out into the surprisingly warm air and to Pizza Express. On the rest of the photos I look drunk and demented - even though I wasn't! It's so unfair!

From Pizza Express we went to a ... nightclub. Yes, a nightclub. Me! It was full of sickeningly young and attractive bastards who lucky Sarah got to kiss and have her photo taken with since it was her night. Pah.

On the way home, there was a guy walking alongside us and he started chatting to Katy. I glanced at him. Looked. Looked again and then said, "What's your name?" "Roger," he said. "You used to be a model!" said I. "And your brother was too! And you had a single out!" He agreed to it all and seemed rather excited to have been recognised. "Susan and Sarah will know you too!" I said before shrieking, "Susan! Sarah! Look! Look who it is!!" They ran back and were just as excited as me (and Roger).

"We saw you at the Fast Forward Funday," said Susan, brilliantly. Roger was so delighted that he almost came home with us. I almost let him. I mean, look at him. Woof.

I'd really like to Google him, but I'm not sure "roger the model" would get the results I'm looking for... (Due to more sensible Googling I found him! Look! I forgot he was in The Lion King - that would have been a cooler thing to mention than the Fast Forward Funday... Check out his modelling portfolio. Lisa, I bet you recognise him, don't you?)

So back at the hotel, Sarah was more than a little the worse for wear and we had a chat and some more doughnuts before heading for bed. I'd like to say I had a good night's sleep, but I was woken more than once by violent retching. And, for once, it wasn't me. Sorry, Sarah.

So, as Susan said, we met a famous person, got in after midnight and someone was sick. A top night all round.

Get in, Rovers!

Saturday was David's birthday and he had requested that I accompany him to the football. It wasn't so much that he wanted my company, it was more that he didn't want to be a billy-no-mates on his birthday. So after a lovely lunch with the in-laws (no, really), they took Harry home with them and me and D headed off to Ewood Park.

It was a while since I'd been on t'match (as they say round these parts) and it was good to be back, even if there were quite a few players I didn't recognise. I did however recognise Roque Santa Cruz pictured because ... well, look at him.

Anyway, I got myself a hot chocolate and we settled in. It was Rovers v Reading and, part way through the first half, a white pigeon landed on the pitch. Well, I say it was a white pigeon, David reckoned it was a dove. A dove! I ask you. Anyway, the pigeon hopped about and pecked, seemingly unaware that 22 men were within stomping distance.

After a few minutes it flew up near the goal and Rovers scored. Once the celebrations were over, the pigeon returned to the pitch and Rovers scored again. I missed that goal because I was looking at the pigeon. Well, clearly this was no ordinary pigeon! Another flutter in the region of the net and Rovers scored again. "It's the pigeon," I told David. "Hmm," he said.

Just before half time, one of the Rovers players took a swing at the pigeon. "Ah, that's it now," I said. "He's jinxed it. You can't take a swing at a magic pigeon." A bit later, I added, "See, they scored three goals and then he took a swing at it and they haven't scored since. The facts speak for themselves." "You're an idiot," said David.

The second half kicked off. "Where's the pigeon?" David asked. It was still up the other end which was now, of course, the goal Rovers were defending. "It'd better get down this end," David said. See? He'd started to believe in the power of the pigeon. And then Reading scored. "Ha!" I said. And then Rovers got a penalty. "Ha!" David said.

And yet, "Where's the pigeon?" he asked me every five minutes. I had become pigeon monitor. Rovers were defending and the pigeon fluttered up near the goal mouth. "The pigeon's just fluttered up," I said. "Reading are going to score now." They scored. "See." I said. We watched the pigeon until the final whistle. It ended 4-2. I enjoyed it immensely. It's not every day you get to see a magic goal-scoring pigeon.

Back we went to the in-laws so I could watch Strictly and David could watch the rugby and all of us could eat cake. A fab day was had by all (except Reading F.C.).

While we were at the match we noticed a poster for a Family Fun Day today and so we decided to take Harry and introduce him to the Rovers. David got the morning off work and off we went. Ostensibly it was to watch the first team training, but that was a disappointment. There were only a few players and they seemed determined not to acknowledge the hundreds of fans who'd come to watch. It would have been a good opportunity to interact with the crowd and add a bit of fun to the training, but no.

David had taught Harry to say, "Get in, Rovers!" a while ago and H shouted it repeatedly and seemed rather excited. Although he was considerably more excited about the bouncy castles than the footballers. As we drove away, Harry said, "Bye bye, Get in Rovers." At some point we'll have to teach him that it's actually Blackburn Rovers...

Ladies who lunch

Yes, on Tuesday I went to Manchester and met Diane (my Trashionista co-editor) for lunch. I'd taken her nine books, three magazines and returned her two Arrested Development DVD box-sets. And she brought me a bag of books, including Amy Krouse Rosenthal's Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life, which I've been dying to read and really wish I could go off to a hotel or something and just read the whole thing without disturbances.

Anyway, Diane was lovely, of course and we had lunch here and then moseyed down to the Arndale and up to the new, improved Waterstone's where we had a coffee/hot chocolate in Costa and scrutinised the shelves for book covers, titles, books we want to read, books we really don't want to read. We were in there for ages, as I'm sure you can imagine.

I then gave Diane a mini tour of Manchester, pointing out where-the-bomb-was, the-pubs-that-have-been-moved ... twice, Selfridges, Harvey Nicks, St Anne's Square, the-church-where-I-saw-Janet-Evanovich-and-she-said-M*th*rf*ck*r, Albert Square, the Town Hall, Piccadilly Square and, um, back to the station. It was all quite delightful.

Swoon

Last night I went to see Take That. And they were just as good as I remembered. In fact, they were possibly even sexier than I remembered. Gary certainly was. And I didn't miss Robbie at all. Well, maybe once, when Gary sang lead vocals on Everything Changes. (Robbie's song; don't even bother.)

Talking of Robbie, you've probably read in the papers about his appearance as a "hologram". It wasn't a hologram - it was just him on the video screen singing the intro to Could It Be Magic. It was sweet, but then the rest of the song was so knicker-wettingly, face-crackingly fantastic that I forgot Robbie had ever been in the band. There was rain! Pouring on to the stage! And they got all wet! And their clothes went all clingy and see-through!

It was fan-bloody-tastic.

Off-off-off-off-off-off-off-Broadway

Y'all know how much I loved Avenue Q when I saw it in New York last year. Well, it's coming to London! I know! And so is Monty Python's Spamalot, which I haven't seen, but I've got the soundtrack and it's great. And so is Wicked, which I've heard is, er, wicked.

So now I really need an excuse to go to London for, um, three nights (or two nights and a matinee).

Anyone else up for a Big Blog Musical Theatre Meet-up?

Whatever next?

Now this I've got to see ...

What the ...?

I can't believe I haven't posted since last Tuesday!! In my defence, I've been writing and researching (and running), but still.

Last Monday night we went to see Tim Vine, which I meant to blog about. You know Tim Vine. Floppy blond hair, used to present Whittle. Master of the one-liner. You know those e-mails of "Peter Kay jokes" we all get? Well, most of those jokes are actually Tim Vine's (and a lot of them are Tommy Cooper's). Like ... this bloke said to me 'are you going to take that wooden step away from the corner of the field' and I said 'no, that's not my stile'. You know, terrible, groanworthy jokes. But they wear you down before too long and you find yourself laughing against your will. It was great.

I also wanted to complain about the numb-nuts they get on Relocation Relocation (again). Did you see it this week? They showed this couple the most gorgeous houses, all of which they rejected in favour of an eighties monstrosity (eventually they picked an old house done in a modern style) but the bit that really made me cringe was when one of the houses had a fruit and vegetable section within the garden. When Phil pointed it out, the guy said, 'That doesn't do anything for me. If I want an apple, I'll go to the supermarket.' Argh! Although it's worth it just to see Phil get that rictus grin and know he wants to stove their heads in with his mobile.

People will see me and cry ...

Wednesday night I went to Blackpool with my mother-in-law to see Fame: The Musical. I was very excited about it (although a little concerned about the probability of me humiliating myself by crying during Starmaker (I can make it past 'Here, as I watch the ships roll by', but once it gets to 'I'm rooted to my shore' I'm a gonner)). Well, I needn't have worried. Have you seen it? It's got knack-all to do with Fame the film or Fame the (classic) TV show.

Yes, it's set in the New York School of Performing Arts, but that's it. Different characters, different songs. Fame (the song) was performed in part at the end of the first half and then in full as an encore. I hadn't though the original songs were that great, but then when they sang Fame it just made you realise how poor the other songs really were. Fame stood out like Michael Jackson at ... well, Michael Jackson anywhere.

It's not that it wasn't good - it wasn't great, but it was good - I just felt ripped off cos I was expecting Coco and Doris and Danny and Leroy. There was a rebellious black guy (he was called Tyrone Jackson - how imaginative) and a fat girl (Mabel, not Doris), but they were incredibly (and offensively) stereotypical characterisations. I know it's set in the 80s, but that's no excuse for Taylor's "rap". Ooh, just found the lyrics, brace yourselves:

Don't need no rich bitch, to tell me which
Fork to use, I paid my dues
In a rat-trap building called New York
Livin' off beans, greens, and pork
In a basement, tenement,
No one's got to tell me what it meant
To be black, Jack
Ace of spades
All the car-wash washers and day-work maids
Can't wash it off, never fades,
It's who you are until you're dead
Now ain't that a kick upside the head?
Yeah, I know about Pryor and Poitier,
Can't get higher than Sugar Ray
Muhammed Ali and Doctor J
And 90% of the N.B.A.
Reggie Jackson, Jesse Jackson,
Michael and Mahaliah Jackson,
Now what's that got to do with me?
On the street the only thing I see is:
Crack dealers, pocketbook stealers,
Coke snorters, Time Square daughters,
Eight-year olds who dance for quarters,
And tokes, and two-line blows,
New Adidas and stereos!
That's us! That's it!
So don't be tellin' me all that shit!

To be black, Jack? Jeez.

Oh and then there's Mabel who keeps going on about how she's too fat to be a dancer even though she's about 8 stone. So I've had it with musicals (apart from Chicago and Avenue Q ...) and I've booked tickets to see a bunch of comedians:

Danny Bhoy - Terrible name, but he's meant to be great.

Ed Byrne - Seen him before - fantastic and the voice of the Mobily mobile phone ads, fact fans!

Tim Vine - Relentless terrible jokes which wear you down til you wet your pants (probably). Example: He said he was going to chop the bottom off one of his trouser legs and put it in a library. I said 'that's a turn up for the books'. Groan.

John Shuttleworth - I love John Shuttleworth so much I named my first book after him (Being John Shuttleworth - you know, like Being John Malkovich ... oh, never mind). He wrote the classics You're Like Manchester (You're like Manchester, you've got strange ways), Salad Bar (Life is like a salad bar - you only get one visit), Mutiny Over the Bounty (Oh, Mars of Slough, you've really done it now, you've seen fit to remove the cardboard strip from the Bounty) and many many more!

Henry Rollins, Henry Rollins, you're hard, you're hard*

Completely forgot to mention that we went to see Henry Rollins again on Sunday night. He was good, but not as good as last time. And I'm still a bit unsure about his attitudes to women: he told a Barbra Streisand anecdote which was, frankly, unpleasant (and, more importantly, unfunny). Strange, because he seems very right-on about everything else.

Also, he blew his own trumpet quite a lot, which is fair enough cos he seems pretty cool, but after a while you start to think 'yeah, yeah, you're great, we know, change the record'. Although he does manage to big himself up (listen to me, don't say I'm not down with the kids ...) in a self-deprecating way, which is quite a skill.

He spoke without a break or even a sip of water for two and a half hours ... which you've got to admire.

* c in a little circle: Half Man Half Biscuit

Blinking ...

Went out last night for the first time since having Harry. Manchester felt great. There was a real vibe which reminded me of London or even New York. I'm not exactly looking forward to going back to work next month (I'm going into the office for one day and working from home for two) but I'm glad I still get to go into Manchester. I really love it.

Had about three glasses of wine and a meal and was home by eleven. Don't know what it was but I was awake at 2.30am and didn't get back to sleep until after 4.30!! It reminded me of when I was pregnant (don't worry, I'm not!) - I felt absolutely knackered, but wide awake.

At least it meant I finished Meg Cabot's Teen Idol though - great, as usual. I'm in awe of her. I have no idea how she even comes up with the ideas for so many books let alone write them and make each one individually brilliant.

Aah-aah-aah-ah-ah!

Friday night we went to see Bill Bailey. He was utterly brilliant. We'd recently watched the DVD of his last tour: Bewilderness and had been a bit disappointed; it was a bit disjointed and vague, thought redeemed by the brilliant Chris de Burgh tribute Beautiful Ladies in Danger. (Although my favourite is still Human Slaves in an Insect Nation.)

Anyway, this tour: Part Troll, was amazing, brilliant, hilarious, I felt sick from laughing and part-way through the second half got laughter-fatigue where I started to almost-sob and would have very much liked a few minutes for a nice lie down to recuperate.

If you get a chance to see him, you should absolutely go (here are the dates). And if you don't, you should absolutely get the DVD on its inevitable release.

Porridge

God, this new website is a lot of work!  But it's looking good so far.  I'll let you know where to find it soon, but I keep thinking of extra things I want to change and do and add.  It's like the porridge pot that wouldn't stop!  I've even been dreaming about it. 

You'll also notice things starting to disappear from the links on this page as I add them to the relevant page over there.  Sorry about that. 

Yesterday we went over to Leeds to see Christopher Eccleston in a play called Electricity.  I didn't know anything about it beforehand, the fact that Christopher Eccleston was in it was all I needed to know, but it was actually really good.  Very funny (for some reason I hadn't expected it to be a comedy) and Eccleston, as usual, was brilliant.  Apart from being so gorgeous and sexy, he's so incredibly charismatic that you can't stop looking at him.  Every now and then I'd be watching another character and then I'd glance at him and he'd be doing something so interesting, reacting in some amazing way, that I'd find myself watching him again. 

Before the play we went for lunch in the cafeteria and David queued up while I sat reading (Morality for Beautiful Girls).  When David got back he was grinning like a chimp because bloody Christopher Eccleston had pushed into the queue next to him and asked him if the sandwiches looked good !!  He touched his arm!  He spoke to him!  Life.  Not fair.

Talking Cock and Groundhogs

Went to Southport on Saturday night to see Richard Herring: Talking Cock.  It's his "answer" to the Vagina Monologues and it is extremely funny.  Interesting too.  If you've got five minutes go on the website and fill in the anonymous survey - the show is constantly updated. 

A stupid joke that made me laugh a stupid amount: 

Where do cantaloupes go on holiday? 
A John Cougar Mellencamp. 

This morning my 'Happy Things' calendar told me to watch the film Groundhog Day.  Then I noticed that it's on TV tonight.  I thought - that's weird!  Then David pointed out that today is indeed Groundhog Day.  Already it's been boring enough that I don't want to repeat it.

Football

Spent yesterday afternoon at the football.  (Dogs Tuesday, football yesterday, what's next?  Lapdancing?)  It was Simon Garner's testimonial game for Blackburn Rovers.  I used to love going to see the Rovers (and it is, in fact, where I met my husband) but anywhere with so much testosterone in such an enclosed space was never going to make me feel entirely comfortable and so, when it got to the point where the casual racism and naked aggression was upsetting me more than the football was exciting me, I stopped going. 

I was lured back yesterday with the promise that the Championship winning side were returning to play the Worthington Cup winning side.  Well, since most of my favourite players were in the Championship side, I didn't need to be asked twice.  Well, actually, I did, but that's because I wanted a cast-iron guarantee that my faves were returning - I didn't get it.  And most of them didn't return.  But Tim Flowers did!  And he was probably my fave all round.  (In case you're interested, Shearer was my fave football-wise, Le Saux was my fave sex-wise.)  It was a good laugh anyway and nice to go back to Ewood Park again. 

In case you've never heard of him, Simon Garner is a huge legend at Rovers.  Mainly for hating Burnley as much as the fans do, for smoking and drinking, for going to prison, and for being their top goal-scorer.  As the man behind me put it - 'When his name wasn't on the team sheet you just thought "f*cking hell".'  What a lovely sentiment.

Going to the dogs

Went to the dogs at Belle Vue on Tuesday night ................

(Thought I'd leave a polite gap for everyone to say, "You've been going to the dogs for years!" etc.)

It was really good fun and I won £8.  I'd bet £10 so David claims I actually lost £2, but I choose to look at it as winning £8, okay?  One of the dogs died which marred the evening a little.  And I had a slight excess of wine which marred yesterday morning a lot.  But a fried egg butty and an Innocent blueberry smoothie soon sorted me out.

Surprise!

We had a surprise outing on Saturday night.  Well, it was a surprise to me.  David booked the tickets a while ago and told me to keep the day free and try to avoid finding out what it was.  And, against every fibre of my being, I did.  I had one sneaking suspicion that it was The Meatloaf Story, but it wasn't - it was Henry Rollins.

It was a 'spoken word' performance at the Opera House and it was really good.  Very entertaining, thought-provoking, inspiring, funny.  (Although he has some dubious opinions about women: men never really love a woman, they can really, really like them, but not love them.  Whereas when a woman meets a man her ovaries immediately fall in love with him.  Or something like that.  Crap, anyway.)

It wasn't something I ever would have gone to if I hadn't met David, but I like that aspect of our relationship - introducing each other to new things.  Although I can't think of anything I've introduced him to except Frasier and 'Heartbeat' by Steps (ha! outed him as a secret Steps fan!).  I've tried to introduce him to stuff, but he thinks my taste both sucks and blows.  Closed-minded fool that he is.

Weekend

Friday night we watched 'Donnie Darko' (find out which character you are here (I'm Gretchen Ross).  I'd been really excited about this film because I'd read so many fantastic reviews.  It was okay - interesting, different, quite funny and a bit scary and it made you think ... all the good stuff, but it didn't blow me away.  Jake Gyllenhall was great (if gormless) again, but his sister Maggie (who played his sister in the film) I think is really brilliant.  But then it had Patrick Swayze and a scary imaginary rabbit, so can't complain really. 

On Saturday I finished reading The Amazing Maurice and His Educated Rodents, which I felt the same about really.  Heard too much about it, I was expecting it to be fabulous, so I was disappointed.  Did renew my conviction not to kill our kitchen visitor though (there's a rat in me kitchen, what am I gonna do? actually, it might well just be a mouse). 

Then my brilliant and talented husband won £150 on the National.  Or, rather, this fella did.  So we went out to dinner to celebrate and then on to The Lowry to see John Shuttleworth.  This was the third time we'd seen him and he was great again.  He's so lovely and it's such gentle comedy that I feel genuinely fond of him, even though he doesn't exist (he's a comic character created by Graham Fellowes).  You might know his song 'You're Like Manchester'.

You're like Manchester, you've got Strangeways
But you've got Styal too
And I miss you while I'm away
You're as pretty as a city in Autumn too
And you're like Manchester 'cause I love you

You're like Manchester, you've got Strangeways
You are my Queen
And like a certain town will always reign
You're as pretty as a city in Autumn too
And you're like Manchester 'cause I love you....I do

But if you're like Manchester don't you Cheetham me
If I Rusholme to find you've been in Whalley's Range
I won't be pleased
My Bellevue of the world will become a Fallowfield
But I know I can trust you, you're like Manchester

I know you've got Strangeways
But don't go Altrincham. 

Genius.

The C word

Went to see The Vagina Monologues on Friday night and it was absolutely fantastic.  I laughed.  I cried.  I shouted out "c*nt!".  It was Anita Dobson, Mina Anwar and Tamara Beckwith and they were all good, but Anita Dobson was brilliant.  Never thought I'd live to see Angie Watts demonstrating a triple orgasm!

If you get the chance, though, you should go and see it.  All women should.  If you can't bear seeing it, then you should at very least read the book.  The other great thing about it is that, when Caprice was starring in it, she went on This Morning and told them how one of her monologues was called "Reclaiming the c word".  Only she didn't say "the c word", she said the c word, if you know what I mean.  I'm surprised ITV wasn't shut down immediately.

I am so bored.

I'm actually looking forward to finishing this and then going to the loo, that's how bored I am. 

Went to see Daniel Kitson on Saturday night, which we've been looking forward to for months, since we saw him at the Comedy Store.  You may know him as Spencer (For Hire) in Phoenix Nights.  He was excellent and did nearly three hours - not bad for a tenner.  He said that Peter Kay is a c*nt though, which I found a little disconcerting. 

It's 03/03/03 today - that's exciting isn't it?  No?  Did I mention that I'm bored?