Guy Brighton: September 2004 Archives

September 30, 2004

TO DO IN WINTER

Ok, OK. I am still in London. I fly back tomorrow. And I haven;t found time to write anything. Anh hey. Why should I. This blog's about Guy Brighton IN New York not London.

Anyway, lots of people have been hitting my blog looking for suggestions of what to do in the winter in New York. Check out this guys: http://newyorkguide.blogs.com/uknyc/2004/01/things_to_do_wh.html

Also, continue to check out PSFK blog! Http://www.psfk.com

Posted by Guy Brighton at 7:43 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

THUR 30th SEPT : LONDON FINAL UPDATE

Woke up this morning looking at My Little Ponies again. That reminded me of a different story. Today is my last full day in England. Tomorrow I return to New York.

I t has been a long trip. It wasnice having the Lady come visit me in London for a week or so but I don't know if she shared the same feeling. Of course we spent a lot of time in a perfect location: Dan & Bella's flat. It worked a treat. The problem was that it also flooded teh Lady full of memories of the time she lived here before. Lived here with an ex.

I tried to counter this on the first night she was in town with a meal at Rosa's: Old tea rooms done up with a spot of paint and dimmed lighting. Modern British Cuisine. Yes, my pork was great but the fish pie wasn't quite what she expected. Huge pie, potato top, no salad or greens. The creamy haddock was great but can you eat a whole bucket full? I promised her that we'll enjoy a Gastropub meal the next night.

So we went over to meet a gang of people including Davo and Mina, Al and Julie at the Holly bush in Hampstead. A great old pub with nooks and crannies. Problem was that the kitchen had run out of everything except pies and bangers & mash. The Lady had fish pie again: this time Salmon. To be honest, she was quite a trooper and put a brave face on it. We all headed back to Dan & Bella's gaff and drank and chatted until the early hours until the the TV in the closet switched itself on when Al was talking about ghosts and his dad looking down on him. The spirits? Possibly the rum.

We decided to go on a day trip to France with my folks the day after I would apply for my visa at the US embassy. Yeah, I wasn't thinking was I. They took my passport for a week and we were left to drive the south downs and then Rye which was nice I kept telling her.

We did go to a wedding together too. Now, I went to 2 weddings whilst I was in the UK: one was a quintessential do with 14th Century church, old manor house; the other was an Anglo-Irish drinking session. Guess which one I took the Lady to. How was I to know. By the end of it the Lady was worried that if I remained any longer in the UK I would become a wrinkled, ruby faced, beer fuelled pub singer.

The Lady went home last Monday morning and on Sunday night went to see the ex. What was I to do but pop down the Westbourne to thank Dan & Bella for their hosptiality and enjoy a couple of tipples. The problem with enjoying a couple of tipples with Dan & Bella is that they drink them at the same time. Normally Merlot & Stella.

When I met the Lady later I convinced her for about 25 minutes that I was sober. Until I couldn't quite press the buzzer on my older sister's house. After that she gave me the cold shoulder.

"You just came back to your sister's and then just sat there slumped against your chair. when I had to chat to your sister. You looked ridiculous," she finally told me when she first spoke to me againe three days later. Nothing to do with seeing the ex. then...

Luckily she missed the rest of the week which included the finer points of British nightlife: drinking at speed from 6 to 11 then stepping in to stop one of your friends (Al) try to have a fight with someone. Have a fight with his wife's (Julie's) boss. The thing is with these idiotic circumstances, people start criticising you for holding people back. What a bunch of arseholes people become when there's a possible fight. Then you remember that you are 33 and life's too short so you just shove off and leave your mate to his own devices.

I staggered back to my younger sister's flat to try to hold a conversation whilst she talked about some of the issues behind the new play she is directing ( Martin Crimp's Attempts On her Life http://www.attemptsonherlife.com (From 23rd Oct to 7th Nov)). Slumped against the chair I nodded to everything she talked to me about glad that the Lady had gone home already.

Oh New York. Take me away from all this. I am sure Fall will be a quiet and restfull time.

Oh, what happened at the fight? There must have been some spiritual intervention this time too. The all made up and went for a couple of rum and cokes. Spooky.

Posted by Guy Brighton at 3:53 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

September 27, 2004

SEASIDE MINI UPDATE

Yes. I'll be back on Friday and this will be forever updated regularly.

The Lady left today. She wasn't too happy about the trip I think but hey.... what did she expect from an Irish p*** up in Norwich....

I'll explain later.

http://www.gapingvoid.com/Moveable_Type/archives/001008.html

Rye:

Rye1

Rye2

Posted by Guy Brighton at 11:44 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

September 22, 2004

Attempts On Her Life Play In London

For all you guys in or travelling through London Town in October and November: I can't help but recommend The Boudoir Noir's rendition of Martin Crimp's 'Attempts On Her Life' Play at the Diorama Theatre.

www.attemptsonherlife.com

Posted by Guy Brighton at 6:41 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

September 21, 2004

TUES 21ST SEPT : LONDON UPDATE 2

Night_time

A quick update from EasyEverything on Tott Court Road.

The Lady has joined me. Somehow I convinced her that a week in London would be a decent vacation. She turned up without a jacket and realised it wasn't going to be the beach holiday she should have gone on instead. London isslowly enchanting her again.

Things I realised I missed:

The London Skyline and London Architecture New and Old.
You have to appreciate the gift we have been given. Start at Liverpool Street, walk down to the Gherkin, gawp, catch a bus to St Paul's Cathedral past the London Stock Exchange, wow, walk over the amazing footbridge to the Tate Modern, take in the view, check the art, walk up South Bank, chill, walk over the west footbridge at Waterloo and check the wheel, Westminster and all the buildings along the river. Get down into Embankment and sit in the park. Or jump on the tube and get to the pub.

The Melting Pot That Is London
The Lady can't believe how when we sat on the bus to Paddington not one word of English was spoken: a cacophony of Italian, Sudanese, Romanian, Farsi, Japanese - oh, and Welsh.

Friends
In pubs, curry houses, cafes, parks, pubs.

Gasto Pubs
Proper ones. Not the Spotted Pig version.

Things I hate

Rip Off Britian
Yes. I know it's a cliche but:
(a) The exchange rate for my dollars is $1.84 to every £1
(b) What I can buy for $1 in New York, I have to buy for £1 in London: Bottle of Water=£1/$1, My Trainers/Sneakers=£60/$60, Curry TakeAway For 2=£30/$30. Tube/Subway=£2/$2.

That means that people in Britain, or London anyway, pay 84% more than they should do!!

(And Ken's going to put the subway prices up!! What a joke!)

Posted by Guy Brighton at 9:48 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

September 16, 2004

Thurs 16th Sept : Out of Touch Once Famous British DJ Begs For Money & Attention

Posted by Guy Brighton at 11:08 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

September 13, 2004

SEPT 13th SEPT : WALK ABOUT NOTT HILL

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Taken with my UK Sharp Mobile Phone

Posted by Guy Brighton at 7:41 PM | Comments (0)

September 12, 2004

SEPT 12th SEPT : LONDON UPDATE

When Bella handed me the keys this morning I tried to assure her that her and her husbands flat was in safe hands. She then said well you couldn’t really do anything worse than what the porno video you shot last time I stayed.

So…. She still hasn’t forgotten that has she, I thought to myself.

I have just moved into a flat for 2 weeks in Notting Hill. The start of this trip has been spent in Beckshell On Sea to see the folks. Potted about and managed to get my tooth crowned for £300 rather than the $1900 I was quoted in the US. Went and celebrated Davo and Mina’s engagement party and Anthea & Richard’s military organized wedding too.

London was a little bit of a shock at first. I found it a little pedestrian, despite the blue skies I longed for the heat and energy of New York. I was beginning to agree with Si’s comment that NY was an adventure playground for people in their 30s and London a theme park for people in their 40s.

Thank goodness I popped into Soho. Soho Saves Souls. Turn off the ever-nagging danger that is Oxford Street and you are suddenly hit with another city. Young people of all ages looking great. Soho of course is one of the creative districts of London: advertising, film making, music companies. Suddenly I was in love with London again. I spent my lunch on the steps of a building watching people walk past – you could have been in SoHo with all the clothing: Mexican wedding shirts, faded jeans, Ts declaring ‘New York City’!

Bella' s Gaf Notting Hill where Bella and Dan lives saves souls too. They needed someone to sit their flat and feed the cat whilst they went on holiday. They live in the sort of square you’d expect Hugh Grant to live in. White regal mansion blocks surrounding a private garden with roses and lawn. What I do like about Notting Hilll is that it’s mixed with people of all different backgrounds. The place, by rights should be the haven of the affluent but because of WWII damage a lot of property is owned by the Notting Hill Housing Assoc that helps out lower waged souls.- i.e 'normal' people like Dan and Bella.

I’m not too sure why Bella worries about what I do in the flat to be honest. OK – the last time I stayed at their place – I think during their honeymoon - I shot this little film with some friends. I had been running one of the first viral marketing agencies in London. Our speciality was making emailable video clips. We were a little early to market and after some ads for Nissan business went dead.

The way to drum up business – my partners and I agreed – was a man, a woman and a bed. That would bring us the scent of success. OK, ok. Maybe we were all too excited about the fact the ‘actress’ was in fact a glamour model and she’d walk around without her clothes on for a couple of hundred quid. Maybe this excitement caused us not to Google her name until after the shoot when we found all those risqué images of her. So, yes we did bring a porn star round to Dan and Bella’s but who were we to know.

I wasn’t quite expecting Bella to find out about what we had done for a long while - the place was perfect when Dan and Bella came back from their honeymoon one Sunday evening - and I hoped that by the time she found out we could all sit back and laugh about it.

The call came in at 9.15am Monday morning. It would have been 9am but she had to look at some of her wedding photos. And one her baby cousin. Then she opened an email from a friend which included a saucy video attachment. This was our video. It was out and was already being passes around.

This was the first and only call that this campaign generated though.

When she watched it, Bella must have noted a woman strip off in her bedroom, climb onto her marital bed, shuffle over a naked man chained to the martial bed and then spin round and let a fart on the chap’s face. Maybe the ‘Let Loose with Set Loose Movies’ tag line gave away the originators. Maybe she took the words ‘Let Loose’ quite literally as my ear was red for days after that.

You can see the clip here: http://www.setloose.co.uk/movies/WindMedia.wmv . Quite innocent really.

I’m sure anyone could trust me with their apartment after that.

Posted by Guy Brighton at 6:01 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

Wot No Update?

Give me a break... :)

Flew to London on the 2nd and my brother refuses to give me internet access on his computer.

Have managed to do some posting to the PSFK blog: www.psfk.com

Soon, I promise

Posted by Guy Brighton at 7:57 AM | TrackBack

September 3, 2004

FRI 3rd SEPT : AIR INDIA AGAIN II

So I was looking over at Minnie Driver; re-evaluating her in a very positive light. She was a couple of meters away, tanned, waiting for the last of a vast pile of baggage from the Virgin flight she had just got off at Heathrow. I wondered if she’d ever check me out in the same way as I was checking her out.

I thought this wasn’t probable.

It wasn’t probable because I was standing in front of the Air India baggage desk waiting for the guy to finish putting my details into the system. There was Minnie with her 12 assorted items of baggage ready to jump into a car to whisk her to her Notting Hill flat by breakfast time. Here was Guy with his passport and egotistical book ready to jump on the Tube then train to somehow get to the south coast by dinner time with his baggage somehow already on its way to Bombay.

Never again, I say.

Posted by Guy Brighton at 5:04 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

September 2, 2004

THURS 2nd SEPT : AIR INDIA AGAIN

After we reached 30,000 feet I couldn’t understand why I always said “Never Again” after every Air India flight. The flights are cheap and the food (curry) is great. The other lesser known benefits are (a) that the staff treat you like a paying customer;(b) there’s very little entertainment which forces you to try to sleep the red-eye to London (Who wants 14 channels of censored/shortened films that wouldn’t likely end up on your Netflix queue anyway?); (c) they serve booze free – two bottles of red wine at a time; and (d) amongst the global representative population of economy class you can find pretty fresh faced college girls sitting in the row in front of you excited by the expectation of Big Ben.

The trouble started sometime after I put my book down and put the eye caps I had kept from another airline on. The noise of the excited row of college girls stopping me from falling into a deep sleep could have been excusable if it wasn’t for the tall wiry fellow standing before them at the space made by the exit door. He looked like a young Jim Carey with a determined look in his eyes. Determined to snuggle down with the girl sat diagonally from me; just right of the plump on in front of my seat. “Yes, I took up acting when I failed by SATs,” he told the girls and the rest of the plane. “So I did some ads for a year then I went into some serious acting.” The girls squealed and asked for a performance.

Even the mild mannered West Country lad sat beside me who had been scared to try the food was shaking his head. It was evident that Carey Jr was going to be the 14 channels for the girls tonight. His first demonstration of his ‘serious acting’ was ‘I’m A Little Teapot’. The girls loved it. For a moment I wondered if it was girls he really was interested in but then sleep took me.

I was woken from my red wine knockout by the same lad singing a lullaby to the girls as a baby cried in the cabin in front of us. The lights were out by now but the glow of the EXIT sign showed his wiggling about like an Indian dancer.

The girls clapped. This wasn’t on. People want to sleep. He started to chat excitedly to the girls at a level that was maybe for the benefit of somebody of poor hearing at the back of the plane.

I wondered what to do. I thought of Davo who I’d be seeing for a beer in London – a Great British complainer: jump the queue/line and he’d be barking at you for long enough to turn you violet; drop some litter and he’d stop you and march you to the nearest bin. In fact he’d carry you to the nearest bin,

I wasn’t too sure the physical approach would work. I was on a plane. I had eaten a curry. Oh, and Davo has to go to therapy.

Cary Jr started to sing again. “Do you think you’re loud enough, mate?” I called out but he didn’t hear me above his voice. The young West Country lad woke, looked around and then slept again.
“Oi Mate!”

Carey Jr froze his stare on his favorite girl and dropped to his knees. His head hid in the poor girls lap as he feigned embarrassment. All the girls broke into a silent titter.

I was about to put my eye shades back on when I noticed that the girls were trying to sneak a look over their chairs to see who ruined their fun and upset poor Carey. They tried to turn their heads like meercats again. I pushed my head right forward to the back of their chairs with my eyes just peeping over. Wide mad eyes. This will freak them out I thought.

The scream was pretty loud when you consider it. All the cabin lights came on, the seat belts sign came on and I swear the plane wiggled as the captain was shaken from his mid-Atlantic nap.

The kind ladies who served me food and wine didn’t look so kind when they asked me for an explanation. A chap in a cap came down too and the look on his face reminded of the time Tony and I got our passports confiscated by the captain of a ship to Holland when we were teenagers.

Tony, myself and a few other lads were visiting Jonno who had managed to get a university term in Amsterdam. We were all excited by the prospect of no good in the ‘Dam and by the fact that mad Tommy had missed our boat and wouldn’t be getting us arrested before we got there. Tony had somehow got into an argument with a steward turned croupier and the said croupier launched a flying foot through the air at the end of a rather effective martial art flying kick. We crapped ourselves when the captain talked to us and took our passports and said he’d consider whether he’d send us home when we docked. Looking back I don’t think he would have had the authority but we were only 18 then and a little impressionable. In the end we got our passports back and we had our fun in the ‘Dam. Mad Tommy got there too – after a melee in Immigration. Another story in another journal.

Anyway, so when the chap in a cap told me that anymore trouble I’d get arrested I didn’t believe him. I was too tired to try to explain what had happened. I don’t know, I had quite a big audience but they weren’t on my side at this moment.

We all settled and even Carey Jr returned to his seat. The kind ladies gave me one last look over and then one said to the other, “Bad things happen to bad people.”