the way we were

When you look in the mirror what do you see?

queen

In 1973, as an impressionable sixteen-year-old, I saw Mott the Hoople in concert at the Bournemouth Winter Gardens. Needless to say it was a riotous occasion with the band riding high on the successes of “All the Way From Memphis” and the Bowie-penned anthem “All the Young Dudes”. The supporting act that night was an obscure British band by the name of Queen.

Queen’s eponymous first album had failed to make a serious mark but the new single “Seven Seas of Rhye”, taken from their upcoming second album, was causing a stir. In those days bands didn’t headline a tour until they were fully established but after the second leg of the ‘73/’74 tour with Mott the Hoople in North America, Queen would never again play second fiddle.

In 1971 legend has it that Freddie Mercury sang with his back to the audience, such was his lack of confidence. Well, how things would change! By the time of Queen II Freddie had evolved into a dazzling showman, strutting and preening in a way no one before him had. His was a unique and towering stage presence who demanded attention. And the songs themselves did too, for Freddie was the band’s primary songwriter and a highly accomplished pianist.

I left the theatre that night a convert to the Queen cause. The next album “Sheer Heart Attack” marched further into pop territory while retaining Brian May’s metallic guitar riffs and set Queen on the launching pad for stardom. In 1975, just as the short-lived glam-rock era began to wane, and the dogs of punk were sniffing at the door, Queen released their magnum opus, the genre-bending “A Night at the Opera”. With nods to hard rock, music hall, progressive rock, shiny pop and rock opera, the disc was a showcase for Freddie’s lyrical and vocal prowess and Brian May’s scorching guitar.

Reputedly the most expensive record at the time ever to emerge from a recording studio, it propelled Queen into the stratosphere, became their best-selling album, and for many including the band themselves, it was their defining work. It produced the epic single Bohemian Rhapsody, which went on to become the third-best selling single in the history of the British pop charts (behind Elton John’s Candle in the Wind and Band Aid’s Do They Know it’s Christmas – both specific ‘period pieces’). Love it or hate it, many of us can still sing along to the poetic lyrics.

“Opera” set in motion a train of four albums that set Queen apart from all other artists of the time. Straddling the genres of arena rock, ballads, hard rock and vaudeville, they were without equal in terms of intellect, musicianship, stagecraft and public image. From 1974 until 1980 they could do no wrong and both the British and American music press were filled with stories of their wild excesses both on and off stage.

But at the end of the decade it was like a switch had been thrown and the eighties ushered in a new era. Guitars were out of favour, ice-cold synths ruled the scene. Queen maintained a dedicated following but their day was done. Several huge radio-friendly singles kept their name in view but by the time of Freddie’s untimely death in 1991 the band was a shadow of its former self.

Incredible how a style of music can surge and roar then reach a wild crescendo and ebb away as fast as it arrived. Fortunately we are left with several concert videos from the late seventies and early eighties so can relive Freddie Mercury’s powerful and melodic voice; see the way he held an audience of seventy-thousand in the palm of his hand and lose ourselves in the astonishing spectacle which was, simply Queen.

Flickring around town

I'm using my Flickr account as a repository for my Charlottetown summer photographic project. I'll record architecture, street views and landmarks. So far I have uploaded photos tagged 'churches', 'shops' and 'street views'. I have a big collection already in my digital archives and will upload more groups each month. Diary and weather permitting, I am venturing out before 6AM on Sunday mornings onto peopleless streets to fill gaps in my record.

Photos on Flickr

From now I plan to upload all photos to my Flickr account instead of to my photo blog Thru the Lens.

a day in the life of

5:00am small girls burst into the bedroom
5:15am make jam sandwiches and drinks for said small girls
5:20am stack away dry dishes
5:30am bowl of cereal
5:45am break up fight between small girls
5:46am threaten to turn off TV
5:47am peace breaks out
6:00am decide it’s too early to use the washer & dryer
7:00am start load of laundry
7:30am switch to dryer
9:00am strip and launder bedding
9:30am bid farewell to small girls and M – departing for playgroup
10:00am vacuum apartment
10:20am wash breakfast dishes
10:30am remake bed
10:45am rip two audio books (20 CDs) to laptop
12:00am settle smallest girl for nap following return from playgroup
12:30pm grocery shopping
2:00pm 10k run (59m 23s)
3:20pm bath
4:00pm bake loaf of bread
5:00pm chop & prepare salad for supper
5:30pm supper
6:00pm baths & hair washes for small girls
6:20pm pyjamas (for small girls of course)
6:30pm Coronation St and supervise play (tricky)
7:00pm bid goodnight to M (sleeping before night shift)
7:30pm brush small girls’ teeth, brush hair
7:35pm read bedtime story
7:45pm read riot act (re staying in bed)
7:50pm lights out
7:51pm stretch out on couch with music
9:00pm DVD/TV
10:30pm bed
10:31pm audio book on iPod
10:32pm fall asleep after 2 sentences of audio book
11:59pm wake to find M has left for nursing night shift

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5:00am repeat to fade

busy doing nothing

St Paul's Anglican Church, Charlottetown

I haven’t done much of anything lately. There’s been too much snow and ice to run and cycling’s out of the question until May at least. Even walking isn’t pleasant. Roads are dirty and stubborn snow heaps are still melting into puddles that are slow to soak away.

Abdominal pain hasn’t helped. I’ve had two bouts of serious pain. It comes in waves like cramp and at its worst leaves me doubled over, sweating and almost breathless. My digestion arrangements were all over the place and I lost my appetite. Eventually I went to the ER and had blood and urine tests followed by x-rays and a CT scan. None of these were conclusive but the doc treated me as if it might be diverticulitis. Antibiotics have helped and the pain has loosened its grip leaving me with mild discomfort.

All in all, sluggish is a fair assessment.

In addition to testing the recovery of my running injury when both warmer weather and better health arrive, I have a couple of projects sitting in the wings. In particular I want to make a photographic record of the principal buildings in Charlottetown. This may run to a few hundred images. There are many churches, government offices, historic buildings, shops, restaurants, public amenities, education and healthcare establishments as well as beautiful old homes full of architectural detail, some restored and others in decay. Several sunny mornings from 5AM onwards should do the trick. I will need to photograph some facades from the west though, which will require the light of evening expeditions.

Audio books continue to be a big source of entertainment. Lately I’ve listened to books that I had read before and found I took more from them this time round, especially those I had previously read aloud. Reading aloud requires more looking ahead than one might imagine and while you’re checking the remaining path of the sentence you don’t listen to yourself reading the first half. You hear but don’t listen. Authors narrating their own work brings a nice personal touch but isn’t always the best idea. Jon Krakauer reads his firsthand account of the 1996 Everest tragedy at breakneck speed, while Alice Sebold reads Lucky and The Lovely Bones in a dull monotone. I’m currently listening to The Secret Life of Bees. I enjoyed the story a few years ago but the narrator Jenna Lamia breathes new life into it, positively owning the first person character Lily, a true ‘performance.’

a wintry chill

Sliding back the living room blinds revealed a thick and swirling snowstorm and the radio declared a “snow day” for the island. I peered out of the girls’ bedroom window down into the parking lot and saw, wonder of wonders, it had been ploughed, although a fresh cover was accumulating.

I could set aside taking care of the girls for the morning as Michelle was off work. Firstly I called the Royal Mail in London to query an error on their website which was preventing me from ordering stamps. The agent was able to replicate the error and said it was a big problem that would have to be addressed at a higher level. Their newly revised site won’t recognise any two letter State or Province codes for Canada or the USA. I placed an order for some miniature sheets by phone this time.

I phoned the gym at Stratford and listened to a recorded message confirming the gym was open today so I slipped into running gear and trotted down to the car. Minus ten felt like minus twenty in a strong northerly wind. I pulled the snow brush from the car and hurriedly began sweeping four inches off the roof, bonnet and boot (note the sensible English terms).

The snow crunched under my wheels as I nosed the car round the apartment building, guided by the deep frozen tyre ruts as if on rails. Once on the main road I realized the lack of traffic flow on this “snow day” had left the roads particularly dangerous. I braked gently and early everywhere. Fine snow drift was whipping off roofs. After a thirty minute drive that usually takes twenty I pulled into the Stratford Recreation Centre and slithered the small Kia to a halt between two menacing trucks.

Only a handful of brave souls had made the determined trek to the gym so I had my pick of the equipment. I spent twenty minutes on the elliptical cross trainer, settling into a rhythm and watching my heart rate climb to one hundred and forty-five. Today’s sparse attendance meant scant opportunity for people-watching but soon one newcomer arrived. I saw her study some wall charts then do a few stretches before setting off round the track at a jog. Shock, horror – the wrong way! Walkers use the inside lane and runners the outside but in opposite directions. It’s safer to see a faster person approaching from in front than behind.

The elliptical beeped an announcement that my session had ended and after spraying and wiping the surfaces clean I sauntered towards the track. I stopped at the barrier to stretch and waited for our newcomer to pass. She was a tall, leggy blond with a giraffe-like gait. I caught her eye and motioned to speak to her. She slowed and pointing to the direction instructions I gently suggested that today we were running clockwise. Most apologetically she turned gracefully on her toes and headed off the other way. Naturally this encounter was conducted with all the tact and diplomacy befitting an Englishman.

I dialled in a new album by Delta Spirit on my iPod and set off after the giraffe. Within a few laps I had closed in on her. I ran thirty-one and a half laps which is precisely two and a half miles and passed her three times in the process. My foot was beginning to twinge so I peeled off and sat for a few moments, sweating liberally. I remounted the elliptical and completed another twenty minutes before calling it a day.

An hour and a half of thaw with rising temperatures made the return journey less tricky. I sank gratefully into a hot bath and emerged pink and sparkling to find Michelle dishing up fried eggs on toast for lunch - a much needed energy boost.