Popping my head round the proverbial blog door to say hi, and also to prove that sharing is caring...
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Ted Neeley will probably always be the ultimate JCS Jesus based on the fillum and he can still absolutely belt out Gethsemane now (well, two years ago).
Ben Forster has also performed an absolutely staggering rendition in the past including at a local music festival a couple of years ago.
You really have to do something mind-blowing to top those two Superstars but... I'm pretty sure John Legend just blew my tiny mind. I've low-key liked his music for a while now but his range here is just... \chefskiss
Happy Gal-entine's Day to my gals, and Happy Pal-entine's Day to my manly-man-pals.
I'm deliberately not naming the Actual Day, since the Actual Day does not acknowledge me, or it mocks me. And I shall not be mocked.
This is an email I got on Friday night:
Oh, Mr Toby Carvery, you presumptuous, jug-eared buffoon.
And, oh, yeah, by the way, I'm single, thanks for asking (!)
I resent when companies assume details about our lives, as if we've all fallen off the same conveyor belt.
Such as in that poster for Davina McCall's new cookbook that boasts the strapline CARBS ARE BACK.
Back from where?! They never left me! Not all of us have been painstakingly depriving ourselves of carbs in order to turn into malnourished waifs. Seriously. This is why I avoid telly now. I do not want to be told how my life ought to be.
I have Pinterest for that.
But I digress.
The Toby Carvery's little faux-pas warrants at least a month's boycott from me (subject to terms, conditions and impromptu invitations from my Lovelies of course ... my convictions aren't that strong).
I'll have you know, I am my own Special Someone.
Well, I'm special, let's just go with that.
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This week, I have mostly been ...
Reading
I say 'reading'. I've been toting it around with the intention of getting past the seventh page. But I'll get there.
Watching Grey's Anatomy.
For Derek "Doctor McDreamy" Shepherd, mostly:
but also for the hug-averse genius that is Cristina Yang, the only truly tolerable character in the series thus far:
Oh and also:
Pitch Perfect 2
on the grounds of having spent Saturday morning ...
Singing
... a gorgeous, and 'totes emosh', a cappella rendition of this song with many of my Voicerox Lovelies (shout out to Charlie, Jos, Jess, Fern, AJ, Jenny, Dan, Alun, Martin, Debs, Diane and Kate):
aka Jos and Charlie's Theme Choon, which is probably why many of us in the Institution Known as Song Club (about which we do not speak except when we do) were all a bit wibbly of lip and moist of eyeball during rehearsal.
Also, it's a freakin' beautiful arrangement.
{*Hears "when you're down ... and troubled ...". Has feelings.*}
We've also just finished tackling How Sweet It Is ... which is growing on me in spite of that cheesy-as-Camembert niggling association I will always have with that song thanks to this clip from American Pie [visuals 'flipped' for copyright reasons]:
Our rendition is significantly less cringy. Promise.
Beginning ...
The Final Countdown
... to my last week -- MY LAST WEEK! -- of working in London. WOOHOO!
Farewell Proceedings commenced officially on Wednesday night with a little sojourn to Brasserie Zédel with my present/former present-former workmates, Clare, Eloise, Evie and Katerina.
I had a little time to kill before we met, so I wandered to Tottenham Court Road for a little mosey around Tiger, then caught the tube to Charing Cross and took as gentle an amble as one can take through the mean streets of the city, finding a moment's quiet and personal space in Trafalgar Square, of all places, not usually synonymous with quiet and personal space:
Incidentally, I'd like to clear up a few things pertaining to my oft-declared dislike of London.
I don't dislike all of London.
I like the parks. I like the huge bookshops. I like the galleries when they're not overcrowded. I like theatres, and shows. I like Trafalgar Square when it's as it was, above. I like Covent Garden. I like the river, and the bridges over the river. I like Gordon's Wine Bar, and I like Brasserie Zédel. And Bill's. But these Likes are considerably outweighed by the Dislikes: I dislike the commute, and the fact that what should be a straightforward and comparatively short journey from Surrey is daily riddled with issues. And the fact that I've been paying out thousands of pounds for years for this empirically sub-par service. I dislike the overcrowding. The Underground. I use it but I dislike it; always paranoid that the train will get stuck between stations, underground, with no light, no air and no phone signal. The Overground's not great either but at least you can see outside. The almost-constant invasion of personal space, from the journey in to the streets of the city itself. The blatant favouring of motorists over pedestrians (which I took most issue with while training, and trying to find a rare safe place to cross a road). The fact that you can seldom see a road sign in Central London as they're too high up, and it's assumed you must know exactly where you are and where you're going. The overpricing. £7 for a small glass of wine? Really? No, luv. The arrogance, the snobbery of certain places. The filth. The smell. The noise. The fact that so many people travelling into the city abandon all their manners and civility and barge you in and out of the way with their rucksacks, their instrument cases, their elbows, their oversized suitcases ... because it really is all about them, and stuff everyone else. And I refuse to become one of those people. I'm already mardy enough and this blog is already too 'all about me'. Nobody wants more of that IRL.
... All right so perhaps these are more to do with people than the city itself per se but the city has cultivated these people, and I'd say these are more than valid reasons enough to head back to suburbia.
(And I'm sure you'll be glad when I have significantly less cause to complain.)
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Right, back to the matter in hand!
We were a little early to our dinner booking, which was then pushed back by about 45 minutes while we waited for our table to be freed up, but all was well as we ensconced ourselves in the Bar Américain where they serve you cocktails at your seat, and there's even a tiny (tiny) bucket of spicy popcorn there to tide you over.
'Twas only polite, therefore, to order myself a cheeky something (on a school night, such slatternly behaviour) -- I opted for an Aviation (Gin, Lemon and a sultry little Maraschino at the bottom):
and when Evie arrived she went for a Hotsy-Totsy (Ginger Liqueur, Lillet Blanc, Vodka, Raspberries, Lemon).
We chased up this brief moment of extravagance with some rather lovely gift exchange -- us to Evie for her birthday, and my girls to me for my new-job-triumph (thank you very much for my excellent card, book of books, and chocolate goodness!) -- and eventually, around half eight we were shown to our table, and thus began an extremely Fun Food-Fest-with-Friends:
{Boeuf Bourguignon, zut alors!}
{Le jazz, c'est bon! | The band that started playing around 9.30pm}
{Les profiteroles | oui, je suis un cochon ...}
{Les Charmants! | For the benefit of Ma QB, we have (l-r) Katerina, then, Eloise, Clare and Evie, the stripe-lets}
I shall miss all of you ladies when I'm out of town, but maybe, just maybe you can coax me back on a visitation basis ...
UK and US politics getting you down? Trump Donald here, or Hunt Jeremy here. Hours of amusement (especially with Trump's toupee to play with ...) | Thanks to Evie for these!
Why, I do believe it's beginning to look a lot like ...
That said, a handful of my decorations still aren't up, and I still have cards to write and presents to wrap.
Think I may well be in Christmas denial. It's all too soon and I'm not ready and I keep having to divide my day up into slots of time to get stuff done and AAAAAARGH! Need mulled wine. NOW.
Well, you read the sneak preview last week, it did actually pan out very much like that, but with a few happy interludes to break up the threatened monotony. Such interludes included ...
Reading
Three chapters in, and I'm still waiting for her to stop wittering about how she alphabetised her socks in infant school, thus leading to her career in tidying, and for her to stop seeming to consign all women to a life of housewifery -- c'mon, Kondo, bring on the magic. I just want to know how to keep stuff neat and thus change my life, 'K?
Stocking up on seasonal (and nostalgic) vinyl Oh, British Red Cross shop, you brazen temptress, you. I pop in, in the hope of scooping up a singular, quintessential piece o' vintage Christmas and come away with:
{The album on the left is Carols from Westminster Cathedral, 1976}
For the record (pun intended, probably), NOW 11 was added to this number yesterday. I can't help myself.
Listening ... ... to this beautiful a cappella cover of 'Mary, Did You Know', performed by Pentatonix. It's actually magic. With thanks to Glenda for sharing this:
And while we're at it, here's Home Free's a cappella arrangement of 'Do You Hear What I Hear' (thanks to Charlie's dad Doug for the link). Singing in caves is the way forward. Natural acoustics. Magical.
Watching ... these Christmas classics on Netflix*
while writing the Christmas cards. Seems appropriate. (Until the greetings descend along the lines of, Merry Christmas, ya filthy animal.)
* and by the way, am I the only person in the modern Western world oblivious to the cool kids' definition of 'Netflix and chill'?! Apparently it's a rude one. Why must everything be rude?! Why can't 'Netflix and chill' just mean, relax after a fairly emotionally-gruelling week with back-to-back 30 Rock?! Eh?! (Well, anyway, Natalie has set me straight on that one and I won't make that mistake again ...)
Enjoying the first official turkey dinner of the season ...
... at the departmental Christmas lunch at The Castle, Holland Park (I'll overlook the fact my one small glass of red was £6.50 -- London, seriously, get over yourself -- whole bottles of wine in Sainso cost less than that).
It was rather delicious, granted:
{That would be a mini Christmas pud swimming in custard. Yes.}
and there was a fun quiz afterwards, written by workmate Mara, with a controversial Where's Wally tie-breaker round that quite frankly robbed my team blind (we were doing so well up until then!).
My secret Santa also excelled herself ... I mean, himself ... I mean ... (thanks, boss!):
I then had to navigate the laughable, disintegrating overpriced, poorly-run Southern network and hop twice as many trains as usual (train to Clapham, train to Croydon, train to Deadhill, train to Rahgate) to get to the last choir of term where we dun did a bit more ...
Singing
... to Voicerox friends and family. With thanks to Jude this time for the photos (and the video of Anyone Who Had a Heart which I can't post, but to which I plan to sob hormonally for the next couple of days just to get it out of my system).
{"take me in their arms and love me too ... whoooo ..." | Photo by Jude}
{Poor Charlie was consigned to prop up the music stand with her nose. The things we Deskettes have to do ... | Photo by Jude}
This was then followed up by an impromptu treat of a detour to McDonald's drive-thru with my Lovelies for processed carbs and excellent therapy. Much needed, thank you, girls. xxx
Beginning to animate!
Not to give too much of the game away but here's a cheeky sneaky smidge of what I've been working on in my -- ha ha -- spare time in between finally writing my cards, putting up decorations in very sporadic intervals whilst grooving to the very earnest Andy Williams Christmas album, doing the laundry, writing this-'ere blog, and fighting my way in and out of the soulless capital on trains that won't even ... (wow, can you tell I need a break?):
HA! Yes, that's all you get. Sorry. No spoilers here!
Incidentally, the sharp-eyed among you may have spotted -- before scrolling down to find your names mentioned in the post, gnarf gnarf -- a new feature in the right-hand column of this blog page, which is a Pages link:
It's in development (as in, I've got no clue how to best capitalise on the Pages function per se) but for now I've set up a separate page on which you lucky people can view the Christmas animations I've created for the last couple of years.
Because I'm odd like that.
You're so welcome.
Pinterest Pin of the Week
Y'know, my completely lovely Lovelies have sent me so many brilliant and motivational Pins this week (thanks, Jos and Charlie) that it's nigh-on impossible to choose just the one 'of the week'. So I won't. Here are two delicious pearls of wisdom, and a picture of David Bowie in the here and now(ie) that I can't stop looking at for it is beautiful:
I've been neglecting blog reading for blog writing lately, which is sad because where else will I get my inspiration? But I had an allotted fifteen minutes a) to recover from shopping in the Co-op where personal space is apparently luxury, not a necessity, and b) for blog-scanning, and I came across the video, above on A Beautiful Mess and it made me smile ergo, blog fodder.
Er, and that's it, really, on that front.
Right, s'pose I'd better channel my inner drudge and do a little of this sort of thing:
albeit in front of something Christmassy -- maybe this one:
or maybe the slightly less obviously Christmassy film but still very festive in most parts, and always marvellous:
{Oh, see, now, that's festive ...}
And lest I forget ...
{And if you don't know what this film is I don't think we can be friends. Sorry.}
but do keep your eyes peeled for the Monday Missive. (Which I will try to post before 10pm but no promises ... I'll be on Ma and Pa QB time this time next week.)
It's just how things go, this time o' year and I thank you for Bearing With.
Stay warm, stay safe, stay epic. And be good. Santa Claus knows if you've been baddity-bad.
{Santa Claus: The Movie | Can ya believe this film is thirty years old this year?}
Still this. But oh, the plot twists. And yet, the satisfying near-inevitability of the story.
Watching
Still this:
{Orange is the New Black. Oh, Crazy Eyes, you make this show.}
Finally I've caught up and am working my steady way through Season 3!
***SPOILER ALERT***
The end of S2 was flipping epic and satisfying though.
"GO, ROSA! GO! GET HER! GET HER!"
Also, of course, watching this...
I'm desperately trying to work out a way of capturing the essence of Tiny Clanger in gif form. She looked so forlorn in the Tiny's Orchestra episode that I sort of wept inwardly a bit. ...She's a knitted fictional alien mouse-elephant thing, QB, pull your stuff together.
Have a read of this: Michael Palin on narrating the Clangers
Singing...
{I've used this before and I'll keep using it as long as the sentiment stands!}
...with some of my absolute outright favourite people, in the annual Voicerox Choir concert at the Hawth in Crawley.
{My sizeable Voicerox family! | Thanks to Steve aka "Bisto" for the photo}
{How can one room contain this much fabulosity and this many cheekbones?! | Thanks to Glenda
for the photo}
{Glamming it up Voicerox-style | Thanks to Mandy for the photo}
Heck yes the concert was markedly tinged with the sadness that came from the Absence of Alun (aka MR VOICEROX)! And heck yes of course I was a little upset that this meant we had to pull our rather marvellous 'Deskettes' number, Love Shack.
But did we rock or what?! << That's rhetorical. Apparently we did!
We're a pretty talented lot, really. #humblebrag
Massive, massive thanks go to Natalie and Julie for coming along to support me -- Natalie, you're no longer a Voicerox Virgin! ;-) -- (and to Georgina who I knew was there in spirit!) but also enormous loves and sweaty hugs to Jos, Charlie, and our dressing-room-mates Jess (whose space I basically gatecrashed this year), Glenda, Fern and Mandy.
(J & C, very special thanks for everything these past few days. For letting me be a grumpy diva and turning that right around.)
And a huge "darn, it wasn't the same without you!" to Alun. The Love Shack will still shimmy one day ...
Post-concert chillaxing
After all the build-up and all the tension leading up to last night's concert, today has been the most chillaxed Sunday I have had in a long time: just perfect.
It started with a big, big breakfast at the Harvester ("have you ever been to a Harvester before?") with my people, complete with kegs of coffee, and panned out with what was essentially a home spa day a chez Charlie.
{Aahaahhahahahhhh...}
Sauna, swimming pool, hot-tub, and to top all of that off, superb, bayootiful company -- if I looked a bit zoned out by the end of it all, that'd be why. That was my relaxed face.
{Happy Chilled QB}
And as you will see from the above photos, I also been done this:
Sometimes a snip is the exact mood-boost a girl needs. Especially when you've found a stylist who just gets what you want and how it'll work for you without you really having to explain. (A bob, always. Usually shorter than the last bob.)
FYI my hair alchemist is Freya, now at Dtail in Caterham, where they have MASSAGE CHAIRS. That is all. I'm sold. #gratuitousplug
I'm slightly reluctant to class this as 'literary' per se but eh. Again for you, Charlie, though nowt beats a proper crayon | First colouring-for-adults apps from Octopus | on The Bookseller
Sorry, London, you're too uncool | Hadley Freeman being brilliant on The Guardian | {yah boo, sucks to you, London, you overpopulated, overpriced cesspit of pretension, you … gosh, sorry, that was a bit fervent …}
