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The party starts here! #sundaynightdrinks

Night Writer

02:36 am

It has been an awfully long time since I sat down to actually pen something on to this blog.

How strange it is to look back on old posts and read things that sound like me, but as if they came from a dream. I don’t remember what circumstances they were that lead me to write most of the previous entries, but how comforting (I suppose) to think that every time I have done, for some reason it always tends to be in the early hours of the morning. Maybe because its usually only around this time that I have had a few hours to myself, have allowed the bulls**t of the day, and the talk and gossip of other people to float freely out of my brain never to return.

It’s a little disconcerting also to see posts as far back as three or four years ago fixating on things that are still in my minds priority. One of which, diet, I have been taking tremendous efforts to be as lapse in my discipline as possible so that I have quite forgotten the sensation of having a waist measured in the 30′s. *Shudders to think how many skinny-mes I weigh now*. I am still determined however. Four years have passed since I lost all of that weight and I felt amazing at the end of that year. Three years have been spent punishing myself for not staying that size. Doesn't it make a lot more sense, and wouldn't it be a whole lot easier, if I just did lose weight so that I wasn't wasting so many hours upsetting myself and hating myself for the weight I have gained? Easier said than done, but it CAN BE done! I have to stop making excuses and finding reasons to say that I will start ‘tomorrow’ every day. It really doesn’t help when people at work condescendingly remark on your lack of progress when they know you’ve messed it up. It doesn’t help when people who know how unhappy you are in your skin insist on doing drinks or dinner. It doesn’t help when you avoid the issue of how you feel by watching ‘body-positive’ youtube videos and living through another persons confidence. I don’t want to uncomfortably hide behind clothes that are getting tighter. I want to be able to walk out in the sun this summer, confident, full of energy and excitement with what this year has to bring. The first step is the hardest, and taking it is the scariest. Especially when you already know how you react when you fail, because you have failed so many times before. I need to pick myself up, dust myself off, and start again, and ignore those people who for whatever reason, decide to make it harder by not showing support so much as disdain, resistance and snide remarks.

I was going to continue writing, but really, who reads this? Its more a sense of self validation that I write this thing.

Mr Panda, cake stand, fresh flowers and a bottle of Pol.....yep, that's me pretty much! #movedhouse #newbedroom

#newbedroom #movedhouse

Tom's 2014 Christmas Cake

#santaselfie

And the other helper!

One of the office helpers today!

I always wanted one of these. Now I'm grown up I can buy things for myself!

Up at all hours

Like the crazy I am, and similar to the other hundreds of thousands of people living in London who can never seem to switch off due to the city buzz, I find myself awake at this hour! I should, like any sensible member of my species, be lying in bed, snoring a rhythmic breath song, and chasing dragons in sleep's kingdom of nonsense imagery, known as dreaming.

Instead, I am very firmly planted in the real world, at 23:46, sat on my bed, fully clothed, writing this entry.

Some of my most inspired moments have happened at times like this. When the brain finds it simply impossible to go quiet, when the atoms that make up this mass of humanoid flesh will not forgive the conciousness they have created, and allow it to switch off.

My bed side lamp is dim, my room is a complete mess (possibly one of the reasons I am finding it increasingly difficult to relax), and their is a twitch developing in one of the muscles inside my inner ear which is starting to irritate the back of my eye, so that I wish I could slap it back to normal!

What manner of man is this? That sits and considers his life's worth, accounting the empty jar of Blackcurrant Jam (very much enjoyed) that sits on the table by the side of the bed; accounting for the pile of clothes developing into the 'clean clothes' pile, whilst the wardrobe is used as a dumping ground for the material rejects of this person's life; accounting for the trinkets, the fluff, the mounds of paper work, the collected books and films, the keepsakes; accounting for the mesh of palpable objects collected and gathered here, which act in their own small part, as extensions of the personality created by the surging electric signals and currants entering my brain, informing me of how to view the world, and my life therin?

Its a lot of material for one person. What part of the brain developed the sense of emotional memory and attachment that we have assigned to specific inanimate objects? Surely it must be a fairly underdeveloped part of the brain that would allow such childish feelings to inform our sense of perspective in the universe?

I'm starting to get tired now, so I will have to go to sleep, but as awfully profound as I think myself, I will probably read this back in the morning and think 'what an arse you are Tom Hamilton. Stop behaving like such a self fulfilling, narcissistic poet twat, and concentrate on what needs to be concentrated on'.

Hmmmmmmmmmmm *Strokes beard and ponders the egocentric questions put to oneself before getting bored and playing a game of solitaire.....another metaphor????* **No, just playing solitaire through boredom**

Pure Imagination...I think not!

Review of Charlie And The Chocolate Factory dated 24th July 2013. Available to view on Tripadvisor. Be warned…its a biggen.

When a new musical comes to Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, I always expect that it is going to be somewhat of a Titanic success. The biggest Theatre in London was seemingly built to house the greatest shows with the biggest production values. Oklahoma!, South Pacific, The King and I, My Fair Lady, 42nd Street, Miss Saigon, The Producers, even The Lord of the Rings have performed at this historic venue, and whether a success or not, they all share one thing in common. The production values made them some of the most entertaining shows to see. However, recently, that hasn’t been the case. So when news was released that the colossal brain fart that was Shrek The Musical was closing, it was very exciting to find out that Warner Bros were jumping on the Roald Dahl band waggon (having witnessed the soaring success of Matilda) to produce Charlie and the Chocolate Factory The New Musical. Drum roll at the ready!

This was bound to be one of those moments in theatre history. A film studio producing a show in London’d West End. They have the money. They have the address book. They own shares in half of the film industry. They know what spectacle is. They know how to create something blinding. Universal produced Wicked and look how phenomenal that has become! First rumours were not disappointing. A real chocolate river? Of course, they’re Warner Bros, they can do anything. Sam Mendes directing? You bet! Only the very best for a Warner Bros production. The guys that wrote the music for Hairspray? I can sing that musical from start to finish because they KNOW how to write catchy show tunes.

This musical was already setting itself up to be mammoth. There was no stopping it. The teasers on youtube, the hints and cheeky rehearsal pictures being slyly released once every few weeks. They had every single Really Useful Group venue change its sweets from Cadbury to Nestle just so that they could sell Wonka treats to the audience. This show was going to make Drury Lane history.

Previews came and went, and everyone raved about what they saw, dreaming about how epic it would have been had all of the technical stage crafts worked. The kinks are ironed out. The opening premier arrived, star studded, red carpeted, the golden ticketed event of the theatre year.

This is the show life was made for seeing! I finally have my chance to see it. This is it. The theatre has undergone millions of pounds of refurbishments to make my visit as a paying audience member to this production, nothing but purely spectacular.

I step inside the theatre. A bar of chocolate please. We don’t have any wonka chocolates for sale because of certain E Numbers and addidtives that are present in the imported goods which are now illegal in the UK. Oh that doesn’t matter. Poor girl at the check out must have to say that a hundred times a day. I don’t need to eat the chocolate anyway. Just empty calories. I’ll have a Souvenir Brochure instead. I want to take the pictures home with me and cherish the memory of this fabulous show. We won’t have a souvenir Brochure till October….OK, just the programme then please.

Settled down. Lights are dimming. The show begins….

What a wonderfully magical opening animation. The story of how Chocolate is made, from bean to bar, using Quentin Blake style illustrations. I’m getting comfortable. My disbelief is suspending itself. I am ready for the show.

The curtain rises…and it begins…

…and two and a half hours later I wake up!

This was without a doubt, one of the most, absolutely swishwifflingly tedious, flushbunkingly boring shows I have EVER witnessed in the London theatre. It was absolute tripe from start to finish! Honest!

Everything, from the moment the first line was uttered, to the epic crapwaculunt finale missed the mark. It is underratedly bad! I do not have the brain capacity to articulate quite how huffbiffling this show is! The only upside to seeing this production? It is so bad, you have to create Dahl-esque words to express your own utter floptockling disappointment with it.

Lets start with everything at once, shall we? The music? Oh the music! The music is harmonishoddily dull! From beginning to end the music lacks everything. Fun, passion, excitement, emotion. Refreshingly original, are the words I’d use to describe any reviewer that calls this music ‘utterly floppy’. Words are shouted, lyrics are mumbled, I don’t know whats being said, and I’m starting to really not care. I could not relate to you a simple hum or a nano second of musical phrase that I can remember. And it seems that I’m not the only one who seems to think so. Poor Mr Planer, perhaps he’s not long for this show, he seems to exude a certain inner enthusiasm for being off stage as much as possible. Forgetting lyrics, running into the wings at every opportunity to play down the embarrasment of being seen on stage in this gargantuan pifflemuttering show. And who can blame him? The only memorable song in the entire show doesn’t even belong to the creatives who were hired to imagine something new. It is the one song lifted from the 1971 film based on the same story. And even then, it used at a completely disjointed moment, in an everlastingly boring scene. Worth seeing the show for the music? In a word…no.

The performances? Those poor, brave men and women who gave up the rest of their careers for the cause of this show. You shall be remembered…well…the legend of how hard you all tried in vain to make this dying elephant of a show sparkle, will be remembered. The poor performers are wading through ten tonnes of swishfiggling egg to make anything happen on stage worth taking note of.

Sam Mendes, award winning director of Movies, direct something on this stage. PLEASE! All they ever seem to do is stand around and listen to each other sing! When one person is singing, everyone else is just standing. Literally! Watch the Chocolate room scene! What happens? Willy Wonka starts singing, and EVERYONE ELSE on stage stops doing ANYTHING and listens to him singing for THREE MINUTES! ACTUALLY!

And whilst we’re on the subject of the chocolate room, please sir, can I have some more set for my money? Where did the budget go for this show? The only interesting piece of set, the giant telly in Act One, gets used for 10 minutes and then disappears never to be used again. The production values of this show are spitzwarglingly poo.

Act one began, and from about the 10 minute mark it reached its peak. We were all aware that it wasn’t going to get much better once the giant telly had shown itself. The songs disappeared into the blackhole of musical theatre time forgot, and the story barely kept bobbing along.

Oh well. I always thought the First Act would be fairly boring. Second Act, inside the factory, THAT is where the show sells itself. This is the moment we have all been waiting to see. The contracts have been signed, the children are acceptably excited, we’ve all had a sugar rush from the Ice Cream at the interval, so everyone, performers, audience members, ushers, technicians, the world, are ready to enter…the chocolate room…

…a swervy piece of brown plastic seemingly stuck to the top of the lighting rig with a bit of super glue (I’m guessing), and a few flowery looking bits with some grass are all the muckfrumping wonders that awaits you inside. And this is the infamous scene. Everyone grabs a flower, pretends to eat, and stands and listens to Willy Wonka sing a song about imagination. Not THE song, no, no, no. That would be totally unoriginal. No, this song is a new song, all about using nothing but pure imagination…*entire audience unite in simultaneous facepalming*.

The show never recovers from this gasbagging moment. From scene to scene, there is little to no originality. There is a hefty amount of CGI ‘can we do that in front of a screen so we don’t have to come up with a theatrical way of doing it?’ copping out, and the world of Roald Dahl is trampled on with big, fat, money grabbing, soulless, scumscrewing, Hollywood style boots. If Veruca Salt went on to become CEO of Warner Bros and decided she wanted to do a London Show NOW, this would be the result. No heart, no brain, no courage, no home on the West End.

Do not waste your money. It is simply, snogwinklingly, bagblurteringly awful. This review has more heart and dedication to the world of Roald Dahl.

Happy People having seen something wonderful!

GO SEE IT!

Skeptikal Productions presents A double bill of Modern Spanish Plays

Last Sunday evening I was invited to see ‘A double bill of Modern Spanish plays’ created by Skeptikal Productions at the Arcola Theatre, directed by Natalie Katsou. Like many people, my initial thought was ‘will Modern Spanish Plays keep me entertained for an evening?’ The answer to this question is a most definite and resounding yes.

The first of the two plays ‘Bazaar’ by David Planell is described as a darkly comic tale that gives insight into the lives of Spanish immigrants and questions the notion of national identity and the individual. This seems like quite a large undertaking for a cast of three and a studio space. However, upon entering the theatre, I felt instantly transported to the dusty, dirty and crowded streets of warm Madrid, Spanish guitar playing rapidly, welcoming the audience to sit closely and drink in the sense of sun bleached wood and clutter provided by the sumptuous set design of Maria Kalamara.

In the story, three very different and ethnically diverse men plot and attempt to have a video of what sounds like an hilarious bicycle accident involving one of them shown nationwide on a Television clip show. As they discuss daily life, plans for the future, and plans for the video, the racial tension and ongoing anger between each character becomes apparent and by the end of the story, personal identity has become the only thing that the characters have left to pick on. Although it begins humorously and builds to some very active and funny moments, the writing of the play flawlessly deepens its self to become something entirely serious in its message, both meaningful and clear.

The use of space throughout ‘Bazaar’ is fantastic. The whole stage is transformed by the opening or closing of a wooden shutter, the moving of boxes and tires, or by a very slick rotation of the central set piece which gives the show pace and a sense of time.

Christopher Neels opens the show strongly as Anton, a brash but seemingly very clumsy man who swaggers around the city like he is ‘the Don’. During his interaction with Hassan played by Pezhmaan Alinia, a Moroccan Muslim immigrant shop owner, we see his character clearly demonstrate the depths that he will go to make a peseta or two. Funny, charismatic and full of energy, Christopher Neels presents the right angle of Anton, he is the kind of man you love to hate!

Hassan was perhaps the most difficult character to understand. Without revealing too much of the story, he is seemingly very unhappy with the way he is treated in Spain, he dislikes the Spanish people and their values, but he shrugs away from dwelling on his home or past in an attempt to move on from something. But what? Pezhmaan Alinia works hard to bring understanding to Hassan, but unfortunately the situations that the character finds himself in are so much a private battle that at times it was infuriating as an audience member to see him leave the action of the stage without explaining how he felt.

Rashid, played honestly by Matija Vlatkovic is the voice of reason between the two cultures. He manages to bring a sense of togetherness, a sense of trust in which the other characters can reveal their true thoughts on the identity crisis which runs as a strong current throughout the show. Although he is not perfect and he uses his own identity for other purposes, he is the most relatable of the three men. He is seeing the situation through the eyes of someone who may not know what he wants to do with his life, but has a clear understanding of who he is. Matija Vlatkovic does a very good job of presenting Rashid’s young but routed sense of self to the situation he finds himself in.

The production, although dutifully performed and beautifully crafted on stage, suffers from the sheer fact that the play was not written for a British audience. There were many moments that on later reflection should have been funny or moving or profound, but unclear of how to react, the audience made no response. The piece feels like it has been lost in translation and the culture that it was written for is not a prevalent culture in young London. ‘Bazaar’ felt a little bizarre to me as I struggled to connect to some of the issues raised in the play.

After a quick drink and a discussion with friends about what we thought of the first show, it was time to head back into Studio 2 at the Arcola, and settle for the second round of Spanish voices with ‘Wolf Kisses’ by Paloma Pedrero.

The story revolves around the homecoming of Ana, a young woman who has left a Convent School to live with her father where she is awaiting the arrival of her fiancé. The way in which Ana views men, the world, and her own significance is captured stunningly in this melancholic and thought provoking production. Inherently Spanish, it is brimming with soul, music and poetry that sets fire to and strums the heart with a Catalan folk song.

The production bows to its Spanish heritage, and every component has been thoroughly regarded in order for the story to be told eloquently. The set is a character in itself. The perception of railway tracks disappearing into the horizon; the use of backlighting to create a sense of heat and claustrophobia; the sense of space throughout the studio incorporated into the show captures the audience from the first moment and stretches the production far beyond the confines of the small basement studio.

All characters are portrayed with strength and confidence by the ensemble, and I got the sense that everyone on stage was really enjoying it, something which is often overlooked but vital to the success and energy of any piece of theatre. Even the curly haired guitarist who played the guitar so beautifully to accompany the show observed the action on the stage and engrossed the audience to carry on watching with him.

Particular praise must be given to Katerina Watson for portraying the role of Ana so outstandingly. The slightness of her figure and her sometimes awkward angular posture and movements married perfectly with her characters loss of identity; the attention to the delivery of her speech, the way in which she moved across the stage and through the story made the characters swing within a single scene from elation to absolute despair compelling to watch.

Her father, played by Jon Millington, and her confidante Luciano, played by Patrick Holt are swept up in the whirl of Ana’s mind, but manage to tell of their own heartaches and desperate attempts at reinvention. Both men perform admirably and with real affection for their respective roles.

Camilo, the village’s train conductor, played by Angus King, acts not only as a hark back to things lost, but also as the one man who firmly bases himself in reality. Angus King’s portrayal is very successful in achieving Camilo’s frustration with the people he is surrounded by and compassion for the woman he has always been drawn to.

Wolf Kisses is a completely enthralling show and the sort of production that makes you question why people are afraid to go and see something new. This is West End worthy. The young producers Kieron J. Knights and Rhiannon Kelly have collaborated with a brilliant production team to create a beautifully told story.

The evening was unquestionably a success with two very different productions tied to one another due to their notions of identity, but each with its very own distinctive rhythm, soul and heat.

There are a further three performance dates:

Sunday 23rd Feb- 6:00 pm and 8:00 pm

Sunday 2nd March- 4:00 pm and 6:30 pm

Sunday 9th March- 4:00 pm and 6:30 pm

I really do encourage you to see both shows because it is fascinating to witness two completely different shows written and based on very similar topics in one evening, made by one theatre company, and with one goal in mind. To make an enticing theatrical event!

Amateurs hope, professionals work.

Garson Kims

Two Years Old!

I have been writing down the squiggly mess of incomprehensible thoughts that is my brain and sending them out to internet land for two whole years now! I haven't made that many entries on here but then, who on earth has time to read weekly brain farts if I was keeping more up to date with it anyway? I think it is serving the purpose I was hoping it would. When I feel like all of the immediate circumstances in my life are taking too much space in my head for me to think about other things, I grab my laptop, word my emotional and sometimes physical response to those circumstances, click post, and forget all of those worries. Well, for a day or two at least.

Nothing much has happened recently that I have had to take stock over, apart from a singular thought that has been echoing through my mind for the past few months and I think maybe its because I am at that age now. All I can think about is relationships, love, finding someone important, having that unit and being happy. It will happen I'm sure, and I'm not making desperate attempts at being weird stalker man, because A, I'm not that kind of person, and B, I want it to be worthwhile me putting the effort in if I do feel a spark. Haha. Oh well.

What else? Might be applying for some MA's, not sure. Going to see what happens. Again, not in any real rush and don't think I could ever afford one, but if it happens, well. Yes.

Anyway, I encourage others to find somewhere to spell their brain out! I use tumblr because I stumbled on to someone elses page, I liked the fact that I could style it the way I wanted, and its easy to log on at any time night or day to write my thoughts down. But whatever works for you, it really does help to splay things out every once in a while. It makes you realise that actually life is not bad and you are being a bit of a #firstworldproblems pussy about your lot.

Here's to another couple of years of being a blogging wonder! Maybe!

Charcoal drawing what I did based on a Froggy Poster for some sort of booze innit!

10 Inspirational reasons to lose weight in the next couple of months!

1. It's only going to be the wedding of the century when my beautiful friend Caroline gets married in July. I want to look good in those pictures. Can't let the side down!

2. I have a hell of a lot more confidence strutting my stuff on the street when my stuff fits into a pair of 32"-34" trousers!

3. I can fit into tighter spaces meaning less 'anonymous armpit in face' trouble on the Underground during the daily commute!

4. I will no longer automatically be labelled 'big spoon'!

5. I can pack more clothes into a suitcase at any one time.

6. I will have more of a chance of out running a psychotic axe murderer if and when one is pursuing me down the street.

7. I can officially complain about how cold I am without people giving me the 'but your fat?!' inquisitive glance!

8. I can talk smugly about working hard to lose weight without taking the surgery, and therefore easier option when watching Embarrassing Fat Bodies, Supersize Vs Superskinny, Secret Eaters and any other show that airs on Channel 4...ever!

9. I can give someone 'the eye' on the underground with confidence.

10. I will not be fat.

All extremely vain and completely shallow, but they serve as wonderful imaginings in the mind of one who is uncomfortable in their own skin! Plus, if weight is the only thing I'm shallow about, then I don't think anyone would hold it against me.

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