A Slideshow & a Track, ‘My little Red Top’ from Cd here, see below this post for detail
Extracts from The Singers Tale ©
A suicide and the first singing in Hastings singing on Cranes and Roof-tops in Germany on The River Necker Stugartte, Germany, with The Shout.
On the 9th of January, the first weekend in my new home, and the day before his sixtieth birthday, my first LOVE Larry, the father of our child Sam, hung himself from the banisters with a scarf, in a flat in Wood Green. He left his angry and confused son to pick up the pieces and I felt that I could not reach him; could not help him, he was so hurt. I felt as if my heart would break. The phone was on the floor of the soon to be decorated front room.
The echo of my voice in the empty space as I talked to my distraught son was deafening, ricocheting off the walls and up from the floor of this suddenly more lonely than a lonely place. I needed to sit down; there was only the floor. Sitting with my back against the wall, next to a pot of chalky blue paint and a paintbrush in a pot of water. I tried to calm my son, his sobs sliced through the thin flesh attached to my bones. I felt red raw. In the months that followed I didn’t sleep for more than an hour or so at a time, and when I did it was bad sleep, bad dreams.
Who teaches you how to be a Mother? ‘Larry, oh Larry what the fuck have you done?’ I remembered the day in a pub in Blackheath when I met the young man who had just finished Art School. Blue eyes, a cute arse and a ‘Come on over here, I like you ’ smile. And then we were a couple in Chelsea and then a three in ‘The Grove.’ On that day in 2005, Sam was so hurt he went into raging madness. He had no one else to blame. He blamed me.
… Back from heat wave in Germany to heat wave in London and my own secret garden in the sky, the Catholic School beside the railway station, Deptford Market Square, and the green dome of the Planetarium, the trees and churches of Greenwich beyond the car park and the swimming pool, Deptford Creek and St. Paul’s Church, known as the jewel of Deptford, it’s stately spire illuminated after dark until the clock strikes at noon or Midnight, bong. …
…. The Boss ‘Come on girl, get a move on.’
I was flapping like a pale butterfly, a Cabbage White at the end of a life, looking for an opening, for a way out. I‘m often afraid of the unknown, not yet lived hours to come. I want to stay at home, eat hot buttered toast and jam, drink wine, read a book, paint my toenails, play music, stare out of the window, or do nothing. Changing my mind about what I should wear. Can’t make my mind up.
‘Check re check, travel card, money, make-up, mobile, keys, mustn’t forget the keys! Which coat or jacket? Which shoes to sing in, the high heeled black boots or the red wedges? If I wear the red, I need to change my earrings and make sure I have the Red Lipstick, red for the Mouths. Or should I go pale Pink?’ ….
|3||Vejer De La Frontera|
|4||Now The Hour|
|5||News To Me|
|6||Never Say Never|
|8||Got My Modem Working|
|9||My Little Red Top|
Alto Saxophone – Diane McLoughlin
Baritone Saxophone – Issie Barratt
Double Bass – Alison Rayner
Drums – Josefina Cupido
Electric Bass – Alison Rayner
Electric Guitar – Deirdre Cartwright
Flugelhorn – Barbara Snow, Kay Charlton
Keyboards – Andrea Vicari
Percussion – Josefina Cupido
Piano – Andrea Vicari
Soprano Saxophone – Diane McLoughlin
Tenor Saxophone – Angele Veltmeijer
Trombone – Annie Whitehead, Gail Brand
Trumpet – Barbara Snow, Kay Charlton
Vocals – Carol Grimes
Recorded live at The Vortex, Stoke Newington, 19th-20th March 2003 This is a recording of the all-female big band, specially formed for the 2002 London Jazz Festival. The band is led by Annie Whitehead and features some of the very best jazz musicians.