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Bit of a swingamajig and an apology

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I feel I ought to apologise to the ‘Electric Swing Circus’. They seem like nice people but tonight they dared to “step a little bit closer to the edge”.


My daughter has talked about them for a few years now. I saw them for the first time last year at Boomtown Fair in the absolute pissing rain. Then a couple of times at Shambala Festival and then again this year when the girls wanted me to take them to Swingamajig
festival that they organise and run in Birmingham.  

I recently saw on Instagram that amongst their recent tour dates, they were scheduled to play locally as part of the ‘Bradford festival’ and a free gig to boot.  Not sure how they managed to pull that short straw whilst the equally cool ‘Dutty Moonshine Band’ are a few miles up the road at Beatherder.
Anyway, never one to look a free gift gig horse in the mouth, off we went after I’d got in from work.

 

 

We felt that we should go and support them, as I feared for what sights might greet them in the craphole that is Sadford Town on a Saturday night. Centenary Square on a stage in front of Wetherspoons, where most locals’ idea of music is gangster wannabees in balaclavas, riding gypsy horse carts through streets, singing “I don’t fink so” on Youtube.

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The bands’ instagram feed has showed them in lovely places around Europe with bouncy crowds of smiley happy hipster people.  I feel like they may have looked out over the motley bunch tonight and mistakenly thought that it was a homeless spice tramp convention, or like that scene in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest when they sneak hookers in for a party.

 

A man in a Pink Floyd tee shirt who looked as if he had been drinking all week cheered them on as they warmed up, applauding the sound check and shouting for one more tune.       A small man in a running vest, also the worse for wear for something and reeking of Lynx, sidled up to me at the barrier at the front and tried to rub himself against me.  I booty-bounced him away from me and the Childerbeast and gave him a look that strongly said, “Back the hell away from me and my kids”

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I love that you’re here… but why?

The childerbeast kept their dancing and jumping to a minimum with the self-consciousness of being teenagers who are out locally and might see a teacher or someone from school.  My friend, asked if they were the type of band who did the old selfie with themselves and the crowd at the end of the gig.  I said, “Sometimes, but I suspect, not tonight”  They probably didn’t want to alarm their parents into thinking their musical offspring were playing gigs at a jobseekers festival for the pharmaceutically addicted and criminally insane, on the island of Doctor Moreau.

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Good to see the security fully on top of the old unattended backpack situation at the barrier right infront of the stage aswell. 

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See it. Say it. Sort it.

I was convinced I’d seen a one-armed security person at one point – quite possibly due to a previous unattended bag scenario.

Poor crowd turnout aside – the band played a cracking gig, giving it 110% regardless. Not quite the glamorous speakeasy of Shambala Festival or a gazebo in my back garden (the offer still stands guys).  If they’ve any sense they will be already on site at Beatherder sharing tequila shots with Dutty Moonshine.  I was astounded they did an encore TBH. If it had been me I would have been back in the van quick smart, shouting “Leave the equipment, we’ll get more. Just put your foot down and get the hell out of dodge FFS!”

So well done ESC.  I look forward to no doubt seeing you again at Shambala next month.  I’ll get Rhona to bring her mini pan pipes so she can play along.  That’s providing we’re still alive living round here, where the rules of the road do not apply. We all had to run to cross the road when heading back to the car park. The green man was still lit when some tosser flew down the road through the lights at about 80mph, not even attempting to slow down!

Asshole!

Welcome to Bradford. You may never leave. (Although you really should!)

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2018 and out…

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Time for the annual round-up of the year in news stories, pictorial, musical, and meme-based form.

Clearly, the news story of the year (well the past two years TBH) is bloody Brexit. Well, fuck all that. Nobody knows what’s going to happen there and after this long, I’m not sure anybody cares anymore. Yet still, people are trying to get into this country in inflatable dinghies.  Why? I’m not entirely sure…

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Jack remind me again why we’re heading to Britain 

 

Meanwhile, for those of us convincing ourselves that we’re going on a health kick in the new year (yawn), let this lady be our inspiration… World’s strongest Vajayjay 

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Forgotten your bag for life at Lidl – no problem with the vag for life

World’s Strongest Vagina – and if that’s not a pitch for TV show for Channel 5 then I don’t know what is!  Women from around the world compete to lift and throw various items with their undersmiles.  If we’re not all lifting, nay, opening, jars of Marmite and cans of beans  with our twats by this time next year then I feel we haven’t put enough effort into it.  My aim is to lift, open and spread the Marmite onto my toasted soldiers and dip those bad boys into my boiled egg!  Pulling trucks with it. The lot!  Go big or go home y’all! 

(hands up who is clenching and unclenching right this moment – yeah you are, don’t deny it).

😀

 

Highlights of the year for me was probably seeing Die Antwoord at Boomtown Fair.  Right up there in my top lifetime moments. Enter the Ninja

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We’re gonna have a nice time kids

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I may have had some tequila at this stage

 

Shambala was, as ever, a brilliant 4 days too.  That time I jumped into a cloth vagina onto a pile of strangers shouting “Wassup Cunts!” Am already looking forward to next years Adventures in Utopia and I apologize in advance to my Childerbeast for being an ’embarrassing mum’ (but TBH I often relish it, just to annoy you).

😀

 

 

 

 

 

 

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never too old for a bit of roller disco with sis and the kids

 

Early in the year, I started a second job, teaching swimming. Then in July, I left my job of ten years to do it for my actual job and as my own business! No danger of becoming a millionaire anytime soon. I’m happy if I make enough to pay my bills with a bit left over each month if I’m honest.  Mentally though, much happier and a lot less grouchy, even if I am constantly damp and stinking of chlorine.

 

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This is me now

 

What will 2019 bring?

Who knows.


Got some gigs to go to. Visits booked with old mates. Hopefully, there’ll be more ghost investigations to do.  Family holiday booked for summer. It’s Rho’s GCSE year! My baby bird is so grown up. I’ve got that prom dress to ‘Molly Ringwald’ to the max so she can actually wear it in June!

Resolutions? Nah, balls to that. Am going to try and be a bit healthier, not as a New Year resolution but as basic common sense really.

Be nice, be kind, laugh more, sprinkle some fun into peoples lives; have a ‘pile on’ with sibs and friends; reconnect with people in real life instead of just ‘liking’ their posts on ArseBook.  Be silly, do something you’ve not done in ages or never done before (but not kiddie fiddling, robbing grannies or kicking dogs or anything).  Get a tattoo, learn to swim (I can help you with that), take up a hobby, wrestle in glitter, talk to a homeless person, quit your crappy job and get a new one.

😀

Choose Life people!

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This applies to a few – which makes me one lucky lady

 

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Duuuuuuuuuude! Pile onnnnnnnnnnnnn!

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Hey Lamo, you know I mean you here right?

 

East coast massive

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Me and Childerbeast have just had a mini seaside break in sunny Bridlington. It was hotter than one would imagine for Brid, but then we are going through a bit of the old global warming in the UK just now.

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We could almost be in Tenerife

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Not quite Bondi.    but you still got to swim between the flags y’all!

 

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Bit overcast on Day2 but still warm

Things I learned over the past couple of days:- 
* Dining out with my friend can be quite the confusing experience for all involved.
* If my friend won £10k, the first thing she would buy is a “big bag of crisps.”
* There’s an awesome disabled loo on the promenade at Brid, with adjustable sinks.
* Two days in Brid costs more than you think.
* There are several establishments serving, “best fish and chips in Bridlington”.
* Black music gets you dancing – it must be true, it said so on the waltzers.
* My friend’s daughter is a menace in a dodgem – My bruised knees are a proof!
* Even the best GoPro ever will still only film brown water in the sea at Brid.

 

 

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I wish to be a 13 year old boy who works in a toy factory & has sex with a grown woman

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Nothing to see here, just a man with a hotdog for gentials

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Mmmm ice cream that looks like your intestines

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You heard the man – get dancing honkies!

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All diversities welcome at the seaside

Meanwhile, our next trip will be to Boomtown Fair in Winchester later this week.
I’m excited and slightly nervous in equal measure.  It looks like quite the immersive festival experience. It could go either way.  I could wander aimlessly with the childerbeast (like we did when I got us lost on the way to the B&B in Brid) or I could end up in the tea and sympathy tent being holistically tended-to by a volunteer in a HiVis vest, while my children look on in ill-disguised contempt and embarrassment because I’ve lost my shit on Mcat or something. (Is Mcat still a thing?)   Click here for a trailer of  BoomTown Chapter 10

We shall see…