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grantgoddard · 10 months

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The unmagical mystery tour : 1973 : Piggott’s Manor, Letchmore Heath

There was a loud knock on the front door. Who could be visiting unannounced after dark? Certainly not Mr Dickinson from ‘The Pru’ who always called during daylight hours to collect monthly premiums in cash for our insurance policy. The opened door revealed two men in uniform whose van parked outside had a strange aerial on its roof. What had my father done? Was he about to be forcibly dragged away from our suburban Orgonon? No. The men said they were from the Post Office’s Radio Interference Service and were investigating a recent spate of complaints from residents in surrounding streets of strange patterns interrupting their television viewing. Could they come in and inspect our equipment?

My parents’ enthusiasm for modern gadgets had equipped our living room with one of Camberley’s first state-of-the-art Bush colour televisions to receive the ‘BBC2’ service launched earlier in 1964. It had required the installation of a different aerial on the roof and an amplifier to successfully receive the UHF signal from a far transmitter. Although our own television reception had been fine, the men from the ministry believed that the amplifier must be faulty, transmitting interference instead of receiving signals, a problem they had sleuthed to our house. We were required to switch off the amplifier and temporarily refrain from watching BBC2. Hullabaloo and Custard had sold us a technicolour dream though I was now to be deprived of my daily look through the square or round window with Big Ted and Jemima.

The technical problem was eventually fixed and our BBC2 viewing resumed, even after the annual Licence Fee was doubled to £10 in 1968 for the 20,428 UK households that owned a colour TV, a dismal figure that betrayed the initial failure of the technology’s launch. We missed the first black-and-white BBC1 transmission of ‘Magical Mystery Tour’ on Boxing Day 1967 because we always spent the holiday at my grandparents’ house next door, stoically without a television. Instead, we gathered in our living room expectantly on 5 January to watch BBC2 repeat the programme in colour. This film premiere had been trailed as an artistic triumph for the world’s biggest pop group.

My parents owned all The Beatles’ albums to date and had watched their films at the Camberley Odeon. Earlier that decade, my father had bought a second-hand Uher reel-to-reel tape machine and had recorded the group’s performances broadcast live on the BBC Light Programme with a microphone held to the speaker, while his family was ordered to remain silent. The resultant tapes were played repeatedly in our house at high volume, years before homemade audiocassette compilations became possible and decades before Spotify would offer the same outcome at the press of a mouse button.

Once the 52-minute film of embarrassingly indulgent pop icons acting sillily in and around a bizarre coach trip had ended, we looked around to gauge each other’s reactions. It had been an incomprehensible and barely entertaining viewing experience, we agreed. The next day at school I wrote a short account of our evening in my ‘day book’ and drew an accompanying colour picture. No classmates had watched the film. My female teacher likely presumed my parents to be hippies. Our home’s complete collection of Beatles albums came to an abrupt halt. My mother transferred her musical affections to non-stop Herb Alpert.

After this artistic disappointment, The Beatles faded from my childhood. I learned that John Lennon had moved into a mansion (‘Tittenhurst Park’) in nearby Ascot when one of my father’s clients was appalled to discover the identity of his new neighbour. I recall our family being dragged along by my father to walk around Bruce Forsyth’s house on Wentworth Drive as a possible home, the estate agent spouting that a Beatle lived nearby (Tittenhurst Park is 1.6 miles away). I was excited by our potential neighbour but appalled to contemplate a home adjacent to a golf course in the middle of nowhere. Luckily it never happened.

Years passed during which our family circumstances changed irreversibly. One morning in 1973, my father turned up unexpectedly at our home and insisted I accompany him on a trip. I adamantly refused but my mother insisted I go, hoping I might learn something about my father’s current ‘circumstances’. Only months earlier, he had quit our home for good and since had done his best to humiliate and impoverish his former family. He had even gone to court to demand regular access to his two-year-old daughter whom he had never wanted in the first place. One Friday a month, he would turn up and drive off with my baby sister, leaving my mother fretting inconsolably the whole weekend as to whether we might ever see her again. What ‘childcare’ my father provided at weekends we never learned, as he had been notably absent in his other children’s upbringing and his new lover was a mere teenager.

There was no conversation during our car journey. Not LITTLE conversation, NO conversation. My father talked though I said absolutely nothing. He still drove his left-hand-drive American Motors Javelin AMX sports car as fast and recklessly as he ever had, breaking speed limits, overtaking on blind corners and generally terrifying me. Only the air conditioning kept me cool. I hated being there. Since leaving our home, my father had ignored me, ignored my birthday, ignored Christmas and sustained his total disinterest in my life. I had no respect for him because he had never done anything to earn respect from me. He seemed not to have the faintest idea of what a father should say or do for his children. Tellingly, after he had left, I never missed my father at all. Rather than tears, I felt relief. Why would I miss someone who had only ever used my talents to further his own greedy ambitions?

After an hour and a half of stoney silence, we had travelled past Elstree and arrived before a huge mock-Tudor mansion in extensive grounds. He parked facing the front of the house and its luxurious lawns, telling me he had to go inside for a meeting and would leave me in the car for a while. I was just pleased not to have to suffer any more of my father’s dangerous driving and not to have to be in the company of someone who had always felt like a stranger to me. I switched on the car radio and listened to music.

I saw lots of people all dressed in similar orange medieval-style robes coming and going from the mansion and walking along its driveway in singles and in groups. I had never seen anything like it. Not in Britain anyway. I had seen photos of Buddhist monks in picture albums of faraway lands. But it felt eerie to be seated in a car in deepest rural Hertfordshire, surrounded on its driveway by people who looked as if they had materialised en masse from another dimension and a different time. What was I doing here and, more to the point, what was my father doing here?

Only later did I learn that Beatles member George Harrison had recently purchased this property with its seventeen acres of land, then known as Piggott’s Manor, and donated it to the Hare Krishna religious movement that had outgrown its Hindu temple in central London. The property was renamed Bhaktivedanta Manor and immediately attracted a huge volume of visiting devotees, the religion’s membership having been boosted by Harrison’s very public advocacy since The Beatles years. In the present day, 60,000 visitors annually are reported to attend its religious festivals.

For me, the irony of our visit that day was that my father’s life could not have been further from the altruistic philosophies of the Hare Krishna movement. I knew he had no interest in religion and had probably never even visited a church. If he was here, it must have been for his professional advice as a quantity surveyor. Perhaps modifications were necessary to this mansion as it had functioned as a nurses’ training college since 1957, owned by St Bartholomew’s Hospital in London. How could he have hustled this appointment? We knew from my father’s court papers that he claimed now to be living in the gated, 420-property St George’s Hill estate in Weybridge, home to many pop and entertainment celebrities, including John Lennon (before his move to Ascot) and Ringo Starr.

Did I meet George Harrison? No. Was I invited inside the mansion to hold the end of my father’s tape measure, a task required of me since I could walk? I honestly cannot remember. What happened next? I know he drove me home … again in silence. I was so consumed by the pointlessness of our father/son ‘road trip’ that almost everything else that had occurred was immediately eclipsed in my mind. Why had he insisted I accompany him? Was he trying to impress me? Was he trying belatedly to demonstrate his credential as a father? Or had he imagined I could help him secure a new client? I have no answers. It became our final day spent (un)together.

Half a century later, I was watching the 1969 Beatles footage in the fascinating 2021 ‘Get Back’ documentary when I noticed a Hare Krishna member who had accompanied George Harrison sat cross-legged on the floor of the group’s recording session. Memories of one of the strangest and most unrewarding days spent with my father came flooding back.

#BBC2 #Camberley #childhood #Grant Goddard #television #The Beatles

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sarahsavagephotography · 4 years

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It’s been a very long time since I posted anything here, so I thought it was time to remedy that by starting with sharing some of my feelings in the early days of our UK lockdown period, which I’d posted up elsewhere.

A tiny bit of perfect in an imperfect world.

My lunch hour photography fixes tend to involve taking a wander in nature and photographing what takes my interest. Today was my first day working from home and my photography fix this time was the back garden. I took my cup of coffee outside to take in some of the sun’s rays, but the tiny, cheery little daisies caught my interest, so I couldn’t resist getting the camera out.

During that short photography session it suddenly occurred to me that I was feeling calm, a feeling I’ve not felt for a while. Just a simple little innocent daisy reminded me that there’s still some happiness to be found not far from your door in a world that’s in lockdown chaos.

To say that recent weeks have been tough would be an understatement, but the last week in particular has been an experience with many mixed emotions – incomprehension, fear, pity, incredulity, sadness, confusion, disappointment, disgust and anger; such anger I don’t think I’ve ever felt before. We find ourselves, all across the world with one common enemy – COVID-19. Something so tiny and so powerful that it seems to be bringing nations to its knees and requires nations to work together to beat it. It struck me this afternoon that there is some good to come from this, however. When you set aside the selfish behavior of people panic buying and those flouting government guidelines, it is making people take stock of what is most important in life. It’s forcing us to examine what we need to function, what can be put on hold and what are the necessities to sustain us and keep us safe and well? We actually don’t need much – a roof over our heads and food in our bellies, but most importantly it’s those who matter to us. When we take away the superfluous stuff in life, it’s our loved ones that we’d miss and crave for the most. Home is where the heart is and my most important heart is there too, safe and well, thankfully!

So, here’s a couple of those little daisies that put me in my reflective mood, forced me to smile at their cheery demeanor and brought some calm back into my life.

Please everyone stay safe and well and support those working for us to keep us that way by staying home and doing what we’re advised to do for these few short weeks. The sooner we can do that the sooner we can have our freedoms back again.

#lockdown #lockdownphotoshoot #lunchhourshoots #daisy #garden #nature #natural world #macro #close up #up close and personal #sunshine #garden life #covid19 #coronavirus

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magistralucis · 5 years

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Ed Banger House Party @ Electric Brixton, 25 Jan 2019 [Review]

😍 Fucking fantastic you funky little Frenchmen... 😍

This was a very wild night. I can’t quite believe I survived it, even as I finish off writing thousands of words about it. It’s probably the most detailed review of a concert or show I have done to this date. I finally saw Sebastian in the flesh, was treated to over eight hours of sweet sweet music, and feel that I have begun my Ed Banger-related pursuits for this year in the perfect way.

And the loot. The sweet, sweet loot.

Read on for more. Mobile users, be warned this is a very long post.

The Journey

If you’ve read my other gig reviews you know the drill: I don’t live in London, have to commute there from wherever I’m living at the moment, London is difficult to navigate. But I had no trouble with my journeys this time, there were no Underground closures, and this venue was exactly the same one as the TBB show two years ago. Nothing to report there, only that I give props to our driver. There was an accident on the motorway, about 25 mins into a 2hr 20min journey. He took us on a thirty-mile detour to avoid the scene of the crash and still got us to London in time. If you’ve ever been on a National Express coach, you know what a big deal that is.

That wasn’t the only accident we stumbled upon in our journey, somewhere in Croydon (part of Outer London for non-UK readers) there was an altercation between two drivers and something like thirty police officers were present. It is rare to see that many police officers on scene for a single collision, so I wonder whether something more sinister was going on. All of them were wearing fluorescent vests and they reflected the light of the traffic most gloriously for a ten-meter stretch of the pavement. It was very attention-catching. I like to think they shared the same general sentiment of (o_o ) when they looked over and saw an entire busful of people goggling at them, but that’s neither here nor there. It was around 8:30PM when I got to London, and I spent some time lingering in the train station before making my way to Brixton.

I like queuing up early. I had no idea what I was going to find there.

9:20~PM: If you follow Thibaut on insta you might have seen this.

This instastory. It’s not obvious, but these three were far from the only ones in this picture. I know this because I FUCKING WALKED IN ON THIS PHOTOSHOOT. THESE THREE WERE NOT THE ONLY PEOPLE THERE. THIS WAS A VIP GROUP SHOT SESSION WITH 25+ PEOPLE OUTSIDE ELECTRIC BRIXTON AND I NEARLY BARGED IN AMONGST THEM LIKE A MOTHERFUCKING IDIOT

I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to! ;A ;

I’ve met my favourite bands spontaneously. Gone for signings. Received compliments from Rammstein. I’ve shaken hands with Xavier. But I’ve never just happened upon an entire group of my favourite people engaged in a situation not meant for ordinary fans. I was honestly more terrified than elated. I knew they were VIPs because they (all DJs included) had blue wristbands on which allowed continued re-entry into the club, instead of the usual red club stamp on the back of the hand. Later in the show I recognized two of those people as stage photographers. Pedro was closest to me, Irfane passed by (he had very vivid eyes, even under poor lighting), and around the right-hand side Thibaut was putting his arm around Sebastian. I may have seen Vladimir Cauchemar unmasked. Shit was surreal.

This could potentially have been a good place to greet Sebastian zdravo. Unfortunately there’s a time and place for such things, and a VIP photo session I wasn’t involved in was not one of them. (Electric Brixton isn’t known for facilitating after-show fan meets either, due to the club’s structure and how everyone has to be herded out at the end.) Even if it were just the Ed Banger folks milling around, I'm not sure if I’d have been able to approach them in this case. ‘Cause ultimately, I am just an Animal Experiencing Fear, and I was caught so off guard; I stepped back and pretended I had nothing to do with the area. At least that way I could gather my thoughts and continue to observe.

I can tell you this entire moment took five minutes from 9:23pm to 9:28pm, but only because I checked my phone later. I didn’t want to take it out in the moment because I got paranoid they’d think I was a creep. As the phones and cameras were put away and normal conversation resumed I looked up and saw Sebastian five steps in front of me.

You know that recent Seb + Vinco picture. Hang on I’ll find it. You know the look Seb has in that pic?

That. That is his actual gaze. That is what Seb actually looks like when he has nothing to pose for and nobody to speak to. Unless something mind-boggling was happening in the empty space several feet away from where I was standing, that’s his normal nothing-to-see-here expression. At one point we met eyes. I think he blinked like once. You can’t tell his eyes are blue even from a short distance. He looked down, exhaled vape smoke, and bit his lip. Then someone (Myd?) ushered him into the open doors. And that’s how I accidentally stumbled upon the Forbidden Ed Banger Content, and while I was excited at what I saw, I think I’d prefer a do-over in the future. When they’re not all engaged in other business, when I have a pen and an adequate surface, and when I am not a fool with poor timing.

Also Sebastian was not as tall as I thought he was, but also far from short; Irfane was taller than I thought, but visibly shorter than Thibaut; Thibaut was taller than I thought, but no match for Pedro, whose height continues to boggle my mind. I have seen all of those people before, save for Sebastian. Pedro I have seen multiple times, with multiple people, in multiple contexts. Yet I still have no grasp of how tall anybody is in this label.

I don’t know what that implies about my visualization skills. At this point, I’m too scared to find out.

9:33PM: I’m going with this timestamp because that’s when I noted down that security cleared out completely with the VIPs, closing the front doors behind them. A girl comes up near me and stares at the venue, the ‘Ed Banger Records’ written in lights, then at the queue barriers (not open) for some time before turning to me. There were maybe five people altogether waiting.

Girl: Excuse me, is this the queue for people with tickets?

Me: I don’t know. We might be queuing to find out where the queue is.

Girl: [To a freshly emerged security guard, holding a sandwich.] Excuse me, do you know if there’ll be tickets at the door?

Security guard: [Incomprehensible - he’s speaking at close distance and a bus is freshly pulling up behind me, so I can’t hear them. He goes inside and shuts the door as soon as he says his piece.]

Girl: He doesn’t know. What am I going to tell my friends.

Me: Oh my God did you not get tickets.

Girl: My friends did! I was meant to get in early and get the drinks and stuff oh my God I DIDN’T KNOW THEY WERE GOING TO BE SOLD OUT 😰

Me: DIDN’T THEY SAY THERE WOULD BE A LIMITED RELEASE THOUGH 😰

By this time we’re both mired in anxiety.txt and others were coming forwards with the same experience. A group of three girls who got there shortly after me were all waiting for door tickets, and a guy came along who had a ticket for himself but was trying to get his friend (Asian girl, very pretty) in. (I will see this friend repeatedly throughout the show, but not the dude.) Eventually we looked up what the Electric Brixton website had to say, and gathered that a very limited number of tickets were available and they were all here at the right time to purchase it. As far as I know, everyone there got in without trouble.

First release tickets were £15.00. Later I was told it was £25.00 at the door.

Yeesh.

9:50PM: They finally open up the queue barriers. I’m fourth. Several of us in the line take a poll on who we’re here to see:

Pedro: ///

Breakbot: //

Sebastian: ////

Riton: /

Vladimir:

Myd: /

‘Everyone’: //

‘I’m here because of my friends’: /

The girl in the above section answered with the last one. Ed Banger rookie. Writing this now, I’m sure she had the time of her life.

I say Sebastian. Two guys in front of me nod sagely. One of them wears a Woman Worldwide T-shirt and a Justice logo jacket. We mutually express wonder that Seb’s, like. Doing anything again. At this point, however, the queue is split into two: ticketed and buying at the door, on the opposite end of the entrance. The girl and I say farewells as she departs for the latter. Unfortunately, I do not get to see her again. It’s a shame. She was lovely.

9:55PM: Security emerges with QR code readers and club stamps and starts to call us in go go go go go go go go

9:58~PM: The bouncer initiating pat down pauses over my portable battery for a very long time, seemingly considering whether that’s legal. Fuck my life. Eventually, though, he lets me in and I s p r i n t for the bar.

It has begun.

A note before I start: like the XOYO gig review last year, this review has been composed via rough notes, photos, and videos I took through the show. It was a longer night than last year, and everyone played for a lengthy period of time; this review is thus split into six sections, one for each DJ, including timestamped observations and photos/gifs of the night.

The gifs are taken from my own videos. Unfortunately, Electric Brixton’s setup made photography difficult for three reasons: 1) an abundance of flashing lights, 2) the elevation difference between the dancefloor and the DJ booth, unlike in XOYO where there was no audience-DJ divide, and 3) smoke machines, as well as actual vapers in the form of Sebastian Akchoté. Those three things make a mess onscreen, so images are potato quality compared to where I was (front center). This was a constant problem during the night, so instead of complaining about it with every DJ, I’ll just refer to this as the I Cannot See For Shit (ICSFS) syndrome and call it a day.

Busy P (10PM to 11:50~PM)

10PM: Mother fucking sons of bitches raised the price of water!

As mentioned in the TBB review, a 500ml bottle of water at Electric Brixton was £3.00 in 2017. (Even in 2019, at a supermarket it can be as little as 55p/500ml.) Harsh, but it is what you’d expect from London. But when I came back they’d raised it to a whopping £3.60. You could buy yourself a meal with that kind of money, albeit a small one, even for London. Disgusting.

But what can you do with something as necessary as water. I did expect it. I’m sore about it, is all.

10:05PM: Restroom visited, water bought and tucked into bag, jacket tied around waist. I was wearing armwarmers. I take my place by the barriers, front row center, with a guy on my left and an empty space on my right. Left-hand arrangement will not change during the night, while on the right it will be chaos.

10:10PM: Very superstitious / nothin' more to say / very superstitious / the devil's on his way / thirteen month old baby / broke the lookin' glass / seven years of bad luck / good things in your past

This is my first video of the night. Might upload it later.

10:21PM: USE IMAGINATION 💫 AS A DESTINATION 💘 USE IMAGINATION 💫 AS A DESTINATIoOoON 💘 USE IMAGINATION AND COME CLooOoOSER 👄✨ 👄 FOREVER BEEEEE 😘 😘💋

‘Pleasure’ summons the two dudes I was talking to in the queue to my right, especially the Justice fan guy. They stuck with me through Pedro’s set.

10:30~PM: Pedro looks a lot happier than he did at XOYO last year. He’s interacting a lot with fans, smiling, bopping about the way we have all come to expect from him.

10:40PM: I see the first glimpse of another DJ hanging around at the back. It’s Myd, drinking in a corner.

10:50PM: Is that what I think it is. I think it’s what I think it is

10:51PM: POP THE GLOCK THE GLOCK YOU POP IF YOU OUTTA LINE IT’S YOU I’LL BANG POP POP THE GLOCK THE GLOCK YOU POP IF YOU OUTTA LINE IT’S YOU I’LL BANG POP

Fantastic to hear some Uffie in the mix. I missed her so damn much. I think I might upload that clip as well because I want to share the experience with y’alls.

10:54PM: Thibaut jitterbugs into the scene. The lighting’s too bad for a photo so I post about it on the hellsite instead.

11:19PM: The display in front of the DJ booth has remained constant until this point, displaying the Ed Banger logo with only the occasional change in lighting. But now the display suddenly starts changing. Check it out.

It got really trippy with Breakbot.

11:29PM: ‘Genie’ comes on. I can see Thibaut and Irfane at the back now, ready to take over. I take my first drink since I entered the club.

11:52PM: HE PUT ON ‘BURNIN’. HE ACTUALLY DID THAT.

Pedro picks up the mic at this point and greets us for the first time during the night. I have what he said on video but it’s hard for me to transcribe it over all the audience noise, it might have to be an upload later on; I have videos of most DJ-DJ segues of this night, so hopefully that should be an interesting exercise. According to the timestamp on this video, 11:52-53PM is when Thibaut put on the headphones and took over from Pedro, but he continues to linger

11:55PM:

just so he can cOMPLETELY LOSE HIS SHIT APPARENTLY.

Breakbot (Thibaut and Irfane) (11:50~PM to 1:30AM)

12:00AM: At midnight Thibaut and Irfane take over fully with ‘Break of Dawn’. There’s something wild about listening to people sing a song with no lyrics (da DA DA DA darararaRA).

12:05AM: Irfane was on serious mode all night. I’ve also realized that the light situation is not going to get better; if it was Pedro alone I could have forgotten about it, but Breakbot’s set was where the ICSFS got really, really bad. There are so many photos where I tried to capture beautiful moments between Thibaut and Irfane, as they were quite touchy with one another (not as much as they were at XOYO tho), and yet it all turned to shit. I’m so sad.

12:10~AM: The two dudes to the right of me leave. The music is most funky fresh and the smoke machines are on max, so much I cannot actually see either of the DJs on scene. A girl wearing light blue takes over to my right.

I think Electric Brixton has reached full capacity. It’s not a big venue, fitting only about 2000 people or so, but I can feel it in the air. I look behind me and all around me are unfamiliar faces, packed tightly in a crowd. It’s hot. I take off my armwarmers and cram them into my bag.

12:16AM: Irfane baby I love you but that was not a smooth segue.

(I don’t actually know what song he was on but the music like. Stopped 100% for a second. It didn’t sound intentional.)

12:25AM: I have a note on my phone that says ‘12:25 Pedro making heart’. I have no memory of this. Fangirl magistralucis what are your secrets.

12:30AM: you 😍💖 are all I think about 😍✨😍✨😍 keep me sulking and down 😘👇🏼 but you fill me with 🔥 so much 🔥 emotion 😳💖😳 and I’ll show my 🙏🏼🕊💐 devotion 💐🕊🙏🏼 to you ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

12:31AM: I cannot see for shit. Here have a light show I guess.

12:36AM: Dance, dance with me / Life's a fantasy / Stand next to me / Like ecstasy

12:48AM: Irfane puts on ‘Funkytown’. Thibaut dances beautifully. I’ll drink to that.

12:51AM:

What the hell is this?

1:07AM: Extra, extra, read all about it! The Mysterious Ninth Planet, located at last! Turns out it was in the hands of funky Frenchmen all along, who were hoarding not just the ninth planet, but ALL THE PLANETS

1:08AM: You may have seen what was happening during the above in Irfane’s instastory, actually. He put on ‘Le Freak’. I wonder whether I should upload this clip from where I was.

1:10AM:

?????

1:20AM: Pedro comes back into view. I try to film him but it doesn’t work out, and for once it had nothing to do with ICSFS. The girl to the right of me, who was rocking out for all of Breakbot’s set, is beginning to slump over on the railing. "Are you okay?” I call, but I don’t think she heard. From how rapidly it came on, how she could barely stand during the first five minutes of VC’s set, and how frantically her and her friends left afterwards (she could barely walk), it is quite possible she was going into diabetic shock. She did not return.

This is a known issue. You generally cannot bring food into London clubs, even if you’re diabetic. Electric Brixton had a complaint two years ago that a diabetic person was not permitted to bring in their food to prevent this exact thing happening. I hope whatever she had wasn’t that serious, but. I do wonder.

This leads to a note about security, I suppose. There were none up front by the barriers. There was no one to call for help to, except for maybe the stage photographers, and that’s not what they’re trained to do. People who were falling sick or too inebriated to stand would have benefited from having security help them beyond the barrier straight away, instead of having to wade their way back through a tight crowd.

This continued to be a problem.

1:20~AM: Vladimir Cauchemar is visible. He doesn’t have the skull mask on, but with something smooth concealing his face, kind of like the Taikobots of Danger’s Taiko-era set. When he takes over he has put the mask on.

Vladimir Cauchemar (1:30AM to 2:30AM)

1:30AM: I gotta say, VC was the easiest and the best to photograph in this show, and I both respect and resent that fact.

VC’s lighting stayed a consistent red and black through his set, similar to how it was at XOYO, and the clearest images I have of the night are of him. I’m still not over his collab with 6**9*** so my impression of him isn’t out of the woods yet, which is why my notes for him are brief.

I tell you what, though. He got the crowd going. VC was the first DJ to get the dude standing to the left of me dancing, and this is the dude who stayed the entire eight hours of the night by my side while on my right people faded in, faded out, barged into places. (Dude was holding out for Sebastian, but stuck around for all of Myd as well.) His set had serious limitations - the most gregarious sin of which I’ve noted down below - but he had a great stage personality. I have very mixed feelings.

Still didn’t prevent me from standing out certain songs to go on Russian duolingo, but that was my pride.

1:35AM: ‘Aulos’ comes on. I will upload that video because I might as well, I’ve little else videoed for VC. Someone taps my shoulder. It’s the friend of the dude whom I encountered outside, the Asian girl. “Can I put this here?” She calls, and places her coat down beyond the barrier; there are steps on the other side where you can place your drinks, bags, coats etc if you’re front row. She withdraws behind me afterwards, and when I next look back, she’s gone.

1:40AM: I’m honestly surprised how many people are digging VC’s set. He was not first choice for anyone I asked.

1:51AM: Vladimir, Aulos is great but not twice in the same set.

2:00AM: Third drink of the night. My legs are getting numb. The first 3-4 hours of a set are always the hardest. I don’t remember what VC was playing. At several points he played Michael Jackson but I have no record of when. I stood still to rest my legs and distracted myself with other pursuits.

2:18AM:

Hi I’m in this photo and I don’t like it.

2:26AM: VLADIMIR. AULOS IS GREAT, BUT NOT THRICE IN THE SAME SET.

This. This is the major problem with his set. I know it’s his biggest hit, but VC exploits ‘Aulos’ way too much, and from what I hear he essentially does this for every set he plays. Would it injure him to play a different song every now and then. Seriously. There are so many excellent songs in the world, and some of them might even be ones he’ll drop in the future. Why stick to ‘Aulos’ alone. I don’t get it.

2:26~AM: As I was noting down the third instance of ‘Aulos’, the girl who put her coat down returned. “Can I have my coat back?” She calls over the sound, and I peer over. I can’t see the coat. The red spotlight passes over the floor; the coat’s rolled off the steps and is now lying on the ground.

“I can’t reach it.” I shout. “It’s fallen off.”

“Oh no.” She shouts.

“Can you wait until the segue?”

She shakes her head. “I’ll go over the barrier, but thanks.”

I offer to help her over, but she doesn’t think she'll make it. She ducks out past the crowd and goes around the side instead (no security to stop her), runs over to grab her coat, and then leaves straight away. She’ll be back for Sebastian’s set, but now it’s Riton time.

Riton (2:30AM to 3:30AM)

I didn’t enjoy Riton’s set very much. This had 0% to do with his music and everything to do with the chaos on my right-hand side, which made it worse. If it was the artist that was bad you chalk it up to a mismatch in interests, but knowing other concertgoers unilaterally deprived you of a good experience is a unique level of terrible. There are no timestamps for this section because I was too busy keeping an eye on my surroundings to take notes; he was also afflicted with the ICSFS, which didn’t help, but it’s a darn shame how much I missed out.

Oh and that too. That was his light show. Riton was a special guest and his name/logo was the dominant display for the entirety of his set. But I’m not here to talk about that. I’m here to talk about the chip on my shoulder.

Here’s the thing. I attend most of the gigs I go to by myself. I prefer it that way because I get anxious when things go wrong. I have a very specific set of items I bring with me to concerts, and practice very meticulous timekeeping. One of the rules I observe during gigs is that I do not move from my position: I prefer front centre or front centre-right generally, but wherever it is, I stay put.

I am not a tall woman. If I lose my place, it is unlikely I’d get it back. I’m full of anxiety about being at my place, but I’m more anxious to avoid losing it, so I defend it with all my might. I have never lost my place in almost ten years and this show was no exception. But my goodness did the guys to my right push my buttons this time. The guy who was to the right of me for Riton was with a group, all of whom were banging on the barriers and creating a ruckus. Just my luck he was the only one who seemed actually inebriated. He kept putting his head down on the railing, slumped over for minutes at a time, before suddenly raving and flailing around whenever Riton dropped a beat. He had no consideration for whoever he was accidentally knocking about (i.e. me) during this. And as I said, there was no security up front, so I was on my own.

At first I had some sympathy, because I still wasn’t over the girl who left earlier. I’ve never seen people who were inebriated/high during shows last very long where they were, either. But the fifteenth time dude nearly poked my eye out, it was just too much. I do not like people prodding their way into my personal space. I do not like it, Sam-I-Am.

The last time I had to be vicious with a concertgoer was at TBB, where a ginger-haired girl kept on trying to tear people from their place up front, and eventually was ejected by security after she got into a catfight with another girl next to me. Apparently this time it was my turn to give into Righteously Indignant Bitch Hours and the next time he started flailing his arm into my neck, I grabbed him and slammed his hand onto the railing and shouted “WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU.”

I wish I could say this made him stop. However, life is dumb. Dude was too out of it to comprehend his own actions, let alone my complaints. His friends pulled him out of the front row for about five minutes but then he came staggering back, muttering something about his lens cap (?) and if I’d seen it. It wasn’t long before he began to barge into the surrounding people again. Only elbows were the solution; I can barely move my right arm even now, it feels so bruised. I’m not proud of what I did, but I’m not sure what I could have done differently, and I would do the same even now.

But, you know. It could have been worse. If you’ve been front row, you know there’s a difference between those who’re trying to grab a good time and those who act out of malice. The former usually try to sneak a hand in next to yours on the railing, or crash into you from the back, or wedge their way in - but they almost always follow it up with an apology, and they tend to carve out their own little space, not actively steal yours. Yes I’m talking about that ginger-haired girl at the TBB show again. I’ve attended full on firebreathing industrial metal shows at much bigger, suffocating venues, and yet those audiences still managed to avoid being vicious and petty. She was the worst. Holy shit. It’s been two years and I’m still mad. Fucking bitch I hope you step in a puddle. What was I writing about again? Oh yeah the dude. He wasn’t acting out of malice, but out of irresponsibility. And to be honest, his friends weren’t that better, save for a girl who was about five feet eight tall and complimented that I was still standing later in the set: “I had to sit down after Thibaut and you’re still jumping like nothing happened!”

That made me think about my own stamina. I never thought I had much. I’m twenty-five years old. I’m in my prime, but I had more energy when I was eighteen, and I am old enough to keep that in mind. I’m not getting younger. After a show I’m bruised and my muscles ache and I pass out asleep for hours at a time. I’m usually awake for 30hrs~ during those times. I don’t eat or drink much before shows to prevent bathroom breaks. I ate on 3:30pm on the 25th and didn’t touch a single morsel of food again until 7am on the 26th, and even then it was a sandwich. After dancing for eight hours.

It’s been that way for years. But maybe most people? Don’t? Do that? And maybe I am? Actually quite strong? For regularly surviving what I do to myself?

I don’t know. Let’s move onto what I think 70% of you are here to read about.

Sebastian (3:30AM to 4:30AM)

3:30AM: Predictably, Sebastian gets the loudest cheers of the night when he comes on. Riton announces him and passes him the headphones. He still does the hand thing, by the way.

This thing.

3:30~AM: Not an observation of the moment, but of the entire set. Seb played some big name EDM songs and what I believe are versions of his YLS tracks. He was the only set I wanted to record in full, but I wasn’t tall enough and my equipment wasn’t good enough to do so. ICSFS is in play. I sort of hoped he'd stuck with his vicious red lighting from Primary Tour, and he did, but not to a degree where I could get good shots of him.

Is anyone excited for him to drop an album this year or what. Pedro said he would.

3:38AM: Seb also has the dubious honour of being the only DJ who contributed extra to the ICSFS problem. He vapes through the entire set. I have lots of feelings and I don’t know what to do with myself honestly.

3:39AM: Neither do the dudes to my right. They are the friends of the inebriated dude who has since staggered off into the crowd. They are completely losing their shit, screaming and taking their shirts off and kicking at the barriers. They contributed to some of the bruises on my right arm. But they still didn’t take my place so whatever.

3:40~AM: Seb is not a smiler. Photographer comes by and he gives him a single glance before turning back. I don’t know why I’m surprised.

3:43AM: The Asian girl with the coat from earlier comes back. She asks me to deposit a different layer of coat this time over the barrier, and stands behind me. I feel very protected.

3:50~AM: Balm to aid my pain: photographers start coming down from the stage to pass out Ed Banger pins and stickers. The first lot are thrown into the audience, but the second photographer takes the time to give all of us one. This is the first time I’ve scored thrown Ed Banger merch during a set. I usually can’t reach them because I am smol.

I am also bonding with the dude to my left during this time. We collaborate to catch the pins we want and share them out between the two of us. He gets the Ed Banger melody logo pin, and gives me the Ed Banger 15 Ans pin. “Are you sure?” I ask. He smiles and nods. I thank him and hand him a Breakbot sticker, one that’s of his name.

4:06AM: What the fuck the lights are changing

4:06AM: Is that

4:06AM: IT IS

4:07AM: IT’S JUSTICE. IT’S HEAVY METAL. SEB’S PLAYING HEAVY METAL AND HE’S DOING THE HAND THING AND THE LIGHT SHOW’S TRIPPY AS FUCK ALL OF A SUDDEN AND EVERYONE IS SCREAMING AND THE DUDE LEFT OF ME IS DECLARING HIS LOVE FOR SEB IN FRENCH AND I AM SCREAMING OH MY FUCKING GOD

4:09AM: HE SEGUES TO ROLLIN’ AND SCRATCHIN’. HE LITERALLY DID THAT. SEBASTIAN AKCHOTE IS PLAYING ROLLIN’ AND SCRATCHIN’ AND WE’RE ALL GOING BATSHIT INSANE. I’M SORRY FOR THE BAD CAMERA WORK. THIS IS HOW I DIE.

4:15~AM: Myd is finally going back and forth. He will close the night after Sebastian has finished his set. Looking back on the videos of the night, I can’t believe he only played for an hour; it felt a bit longer than that, Sebastian never let up for a single second as long as he was onstage. Not a single minute wasted. And now you’re going to have to excuse me babes because he’s puttING ON STRESS AND WE’RE ALL GOING TO DIE AGAIN RIGHT HERE RIGHT NOW

4:24AM: AAAAAAAAAAAA

(Seb’s still playing Stress. Looping the chainsaw noises. Steady camera work lmao what steady camera work)

4:30AM: Sebastian hands over the reins to Myd at this point. I do not have a video of this segue because he does not announce the takeover; with one of his inscrutable hand gestures and a proud look, Sebastian takes up a whole bottle of wine and silently walks offstage. Again, I don’t know why I am remotely surprised. That is probably the most Seb thing I have seen Seb do all night, and it was a night extremely full of Seb things.

At this point I stop jotting down notes on my phone. But I’m at about 58% battery and going strong, so I’m still taking photos and videos whenever I can. Myd’s section is reconstructed from these records.

Myd (Round 2) (4:30~AM to 6:00AM)

4:30~AM: Not a specific observation. As mentioned in the Breakbot review of May 2018, I have unfinished business with Myd. Or at least: had. Myd played the closer in XOYO last year, and back then I was weak and I could not stay through his entire set. I swore to myself the next time he returned, and I was able to see him, I would last as long as he was onstage.

And I did. That’s one promise to myself kept, and what I hope was a little justice done for a DJ of Myd’s caliber.

4:35AM: Coat girl taps my shoulder again. “I’m going home. Could you...?” She gestures to the barrier, and I reach down and pull up her coat. It didn’t roll onto the ground this time.

“There you are.” I say. She takes it and gives me a hug. “Have a good night.”

“Have a good night!” Then she’s gone, alongside the exodus of people who are leaving the club. More people stuck around for Myd here than in XOYO. Guy to my left nudges me to look; stickers are coming around again, specifically the ‘Hello My Name Is _______ [Myd]’ one. We each take one.

4:44AM: I’m out of water. Actually I was out of water immediately before Seb finished, because for some reason I thought downing the last of my only means of hydration with over 1h 30mins to go was a sensible thing to do. I regret this decision bitterly, but I’ll probably survive.

4:58AM:

@_@

5:03AM: It is very difficult for me to ID Myd’s tracks. I suspect a lot of them are original or are from his recent release that I haven’t yet listened to. Appropriate to a closer, he takes a very trance-inspired line to his entire set, with lots of repetition and few loud drops; this was the same in XOYO. I wonder what a Myd headliner set must be like.

5:10~AM: The guy to the left of me is struggling. So am I. But further to his left, there is a guy slumped on the rails. His girlfriend is beside him. They’ve been there all night, but they’ve clearly reached their limit. My right hand side keeps refilling and emptying as people step away or leave.

I talk about that other guy because he summons Thibaut to him.

5:28AM: I took several vids of this but this timestamp belongs to the longest. Thibaut comes back with his own phone to film the audience. He winks and shyly gestures all of us to gather our strengths and be more pumped up, and I recall we obliged him because he asked so nicely. He lingered for some time, gazing at us as fondly as we were gazing at him. He then looked at the guy slumped over on the railing and hopped down from the stage, gently patting his shoulder to talk to him.

I didn’t hear any of their conversation, save for Thibaut asking the dude ‘where he was from’. By the way he clasped his hand to his chest several times, though, I’m inclined to think he was really concerned about the guy. They eventually shook hands and Thibaut made as if to hop back onstage. (The photo was taken as he was leaving.)

Except he couldn’t jump that high. He gave us another shy look and braced his foot against the barriers, perching neatly on the stage before clambering up. He stuck around for about five more minutes to check up on the audience.

I love Thibaut so much. He’s so gentle.

5:34~AM: Holy fuck my bag is full of crap. I haven’t organized it in some time. Discarded cups, beer cans etc have accumulated by my feet, and as I kick them away I’m trying to check my loot is in place and I still have my items. I can’t feel my passport and my blood runs cold for a moment. I turn the camera flash on to look.

“Are you looking for something?” The guy to my left asks worriedly.

I feel my passport in my front pocket. False alarm. “Just organizing my bag.”

(I didn’t see any lost foreign ID or driver licenses on the floor this time.)

5:43AM:

Russian duolingo says fuck millennial lives

5:50~AM: The smoke machine is turned off. I still can’t see for shit, though, because the lights flash rapidly between deep blue and violet and Myd’s hidden behind it.

My last video of the night is timestamped 5:55AM. Myd has a most benevolent smile on his face. He knows the night is drawing to a close.

6:00AM: I did it.

We made it.

I have made it through a Myd set fully and have survived the night.

Myd finished exactly at 6am and exited to a crowd of applause. There are calls for an encore, but given that it's... like, literally morning, it’s not realistic to expect him to stay any longer. Security comes by as soon as he exits, and we all leave Electric Brixton behind at last. The sun has not yet risen. I fall in step with the guy next to me.

Guy: Where are you heading to?

Me: Coach. I came up from Brighton.

Guy: From Brighton?! Was that last night or what?

Me: Yep, two hours before the show. I haven’t eaten or slept all night.

Guy: Wow. [Pause.] Though I think that’s the longest I’ve danced in my entire life, too.

Me: You’re not kidding. I really didn’t think I was going to last beyond Sebastian.

I think he was a Londoner. We say farewells in front of the Electric Brixton bus stop, and I leave for the Underground. My legs are numb and I can barely walk, but somehow I stumble past the barriers and sink into the seats of the train. Back at Victoria Train Station I drop in at Sainsburys for a sandwich and two cans of grape soda, and then realizing I need a resealable container to take on the bus, buy a bottle of Pepsi. The grape soda was just because I really love grape soda and I cannot find a place in Brighton that sells any. It was around 8AM when I finally got on the coach back home.

I had not slept for some twenty hours. I continued to not sleep on the bus. I tried very hard to, but I couldn’t, because I was still buzzing from the adrenaline. It wasn’t until I got home, just after 11AM, that I began to feel sleepy for real. Sig. other made me a cup of tea, and I took the interval to admire some cat slippersocks that had arrived for me in the meantime.

LOOK AT IT.

Overall I’d say this was a fantastic night. I have taken care of unfinished business and seen Sebastian in the flesh. I have, however, come away with another unfinished business to replace the deal with Myd - I should seek out Riton again, the next time he comes here, and deliver a full review of what that was like. To think of the Ed Banger crew making their way across Europe in 2019, with new material and a new Sebastian in tow...

😍😍😍

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bondsmagii · 5 years

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It might be because I’m American but I keep reading your posts in an American voice, but then I remember you’re from the UK and go feral. I also had a dream where you were there and I was Literally Kondraki the character where when you spoke I just knew what you were saying and it didn’t have like, an accent or any sound at all tbh. That was one hell of a dream.

we were telepathically connected... the Essence of Kondraki wait no man that’s a cursed thought

but ANYWAY if it makes you feel better my accent is like nothing anyone has heard before lmao. no one can work it out. it’s such a garbled mess of several locations with totally different accents, and on top of that I use slang from about three different countries, and yeah. it’s incomprehensible, as it should be. even people from outside the UK have known enough about common British accents to know I don’t fall into any of them!!

#i pity anyone trying to understand me but luckily i never make sense anyway so #about me #anon #asks

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deepglens · 5 years

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@bonnmot asked me to fill out these emoji headcanons for several of my characters so buckle up

alyona—

sleep: a light sleeper, and she often has trouble sleeping. she typically falls asleep on her back with her arms at her sides or on her stomach.

love: she’s straightforward, but sweeter than you’d expect. her love language is primarily time spent together, followed by gift giving, but she gets embarrassed easily when displaying her feelings (especially romantic ones, she’s basically this post) in front of other people so don’t expect her to pull any sort of grand gesture.

stress: her life has quite a lot, to the point where if there isn’t some kind of stressor she’s concerned about it, it feels like something’s wrong.

sickness: it’s very dangerous if she’s sick; she cannot have vaccines in the way that most people do and she grew up in a time and place before they were common. she tries to stay inside and drink lots of fluids.

gita—

religious: it’s often hard for her to reconcile her ideas of science and the natural world with religion, but she’s still not entirely unconvinced about divine influence. she’s really on the fence about it but doesn’t hold it against anyone if they disagree with her, as long as they’re all being polite.

home: she rents one apartment in a duplex and it’s full of stuff, small but comfortable. she’s one of those people who knows exactly where everything is even though it might seem incomprehensible to an outsider, and she’ll notice if something isn’t in its right place.

family: she has some family in washington state (about three or four hours away) and even more in the uk and india where her two sets of grandparents are from, but unfortunately she doesn’t get to see her family members who live abroad very much as she doesn’t have the salary for it. but she keeps in touch with them through letters and email, and visits her family in-country regularly for birthdays, weddings, holidays, etc.

work: loves her job; she’s very excited / grateful to be doing something that allows her to have a sense of purpose and explain what she’s interested in. her students may not like how passionate she is or the tangents she goes on, although with the latter at least she isn’t assigning them homework

betl—

sadness: cries easily, especially when others are crying or if it’s someone she cares about. she doesn’t mind being open about her emotions but it often unnerves other people.

anger: will almost never raise her voice in an angry tone, so if she does, it’s very serious. she tends to be angrier at herself than at other people and projects inwards.

ridiculous: she does not YET know what a dog is. this MAY change, contact me for details, please, god, let her meet a dog.

happiness: smiles a lot, gestures with her hands, tends to touch whoever she’s talking to if they’re okay with it (usually on their arms or shoulders)

lizzie—

food: she eats pretty much anything she can get her hands on, but she loves scrambled eggs and bacon.

drink: she struggles with alcohol abuse throughout her life and when she’s trying to be sober she doesn’t like to drink anything with a bitter taste as it’s an easy gateway / reminder / trigger for her

mental health: not great bob! it’s really very shitty! she was physically and emotionally abused as a child and during periods of her adult life as well; moreover she refuses to seek help because she distrusts authority and doesn’t like feeling manipulated.

physical health: a little above average, she works out sometimes and often has a job that requires physical labor. she won’t be doing a marathon any time soon but isn’t out of shape either.

#* ask meme.#tw for discussions of abuse and alcoholism in lizzie’s answers. i put them under a cut so if youre on dash you wont have to see them #* alyona.#* gita.#* betl.#* lizzie.

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deanmullenfilms · 3 years

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4 Days Cut Off - My Experience Of Storm Alex (Saint Martin Vesubie)

On Friday, October 2nd, Storm Alex was approaching the southeast of France. My girlfriend at the time and I were aware of the storm in the days prior as it had made landfall in the UK and Ireland before moving down to France. That morning, we were expecting a lot of thunder and plenty of rain, but we’d experienced many stormy days and thunderous afternoons before as our quaint village nestled in the Alps was prone to such weather.

The image below was taken around 7.30am on the Friday morning. I posted it on Facebook, and my caption was “ The calm before the storm.”

Day 1 - Power Outage

My sleeping routine had become somewhat nocturnal by this time of year, the combined result of living through the Covid-19 pandemic and the fact that my girlfriend at the time enjoyed living by those hours. So naturally, I developed these habits, and as a result, I was taking this image shortly before trying to go to sleep.

During the night I had been watching a YouTube video that had a duration of about one hour, featuring a talk by a man who survived 9/11. The thought at some point crossed my mind, what if this storm became a disaster but it was nothing more than a fleeting thought, a similar type of thought to those I had experienced before in other scenarios and no such disasters had unfolded.

(Liquel sitting by a laptop on Friday morning)

By the following afternoon, the heavy rain was filling the valleys, and unknown to us, a once in a century storm/flood was unfolding. At this time, we were sleeping on and off. The electricity went and the water was working intermittently. Destruction like we could not imagine was taking place during these very hours and we had no notion that this was the case. The rain did sound heavy, and the thunder was exceptionally loud at times but it did not sound much worse than storms we’d already experienced that year. We had no idea.

With no electricity, it was hard to feel inspired to do much during the evening. So we spent most of nightfall trying to get more sleep. One of the house cats Sherbie came to cuddle and keep company, though his previous intense fear of thunderstorms seemed to have faded. There were a total of 8 cats in the house. At this stage, all 10 of us were safe, and calm but outside, people had already died.

Later that night, my girlfriend at the time and I went to the linen room and looked out one of the side windows of the house. Our home, like the rest of the ‘Place de La Fraire’ (a square that sits at a high point in the village albeit one that is at the edge of a cliff-like drop of roughly 20 metres) is just next to the river bed which sits below the village. The village is propped up in the mountainous area. We could not see much but the river was loud.

Suddenly, a man with a headlamp began descending the small road right outside our home. He was heading down to the bridge that crossed over the river, connecting the village to a road that leads to Nice. We watched out of curiosity. He began facing his headlamp out once he got to the bridge. Its brilliant bright light shun toward the river, a river that we could never see directly from our home. Yet tonight, we could see something flowing in the darkness, lit up by his headlamp. My partner asked, “Is that the river?!”. It didn’t seem possible given that we were about 20 metres above the river or more, and yet somehow, what is usually practically a tiny trickle appeared to be a monstrous river flowing rapidly down the mountain. Somehow it didn’t yet hit us that some serious destruction had taken place outside.

After, I went to the living room. I sat on the sofa and used a small flashlight to illuminate a book I was engaging in, which was Dune by Frank Herbert. I had recently bought it online alongside Artemis, a novel by Andy Weir, who was also the author of the Martian. Technically we are on to day two by now but dawn had yet to come. Conscious of trying to avoid draining the flashlight’s battery (as I didn’t know how long the power would be off), I decided to turn it off. I ended up relaxing on the sofa and accidentally nodded off.

Day 2 - Seeing the Destruction

Abruptly Alexandra came into the room. It was daylight and roughly a little after 7am. She was panicked and upset. I can’t remember exactly what she said but it was along the lines of “You have to come see this, I can’t explain it...” I got up and with intense emotion, she added “I hope everyone’s okay.” That’s when it first hit me that something dire has occurred.

We watched out the window we had peered through the night before and what we saw was shocking and difficult to comprehend. We knew that much of what was in view was not before. Clearly, a lot of trees had been destroyed.

There was no way to contact the outside world. The water wasn’t running either. We headed outside with our masks on and found several people gathered in the square. People seemed dazed. We noticed a couple with backpacks on. It was a tourist village (although not many tourists at this time of year). In the square, there was a small viewpoint looking down onto the river. And with that view, you could see a roaring river. As the water struck the rocks, it sounded like a very heavy wave crashing onto the shoreline. The power of this water was clear already, and it was frightening.

We headed down the side road that the man with the headlamp (in hindsight, possibly a rescue worker) had descended the night before. As we did, more came into view. And what we saw was an incomprehensible mass of destruction. It was just pure devastation. There was simply no way to grasp what we were seeing.

In this area alone, where the Vesubie and Boreon rivers meet, there was once a football pitch, tennis courts, and helipad as well as many, many trees and large walls too. Indeed, they had all been there the previous morning when I took the first image of this blog. We looked around for a few minutes in horror, and my partner also engaged in French with one of the locals, trying to understand what was going on. The village was stunned. It then occurred to me, and as my words conveyed “I think people have died.”

As we impossibly tried to digest what we were looking at, I suggested to my partner that we head up to the top of the village (that being the main square) since it would be the only place I figured we could access information. She too, was concerned and suggested that the area we were standing on might collapse. The bridge itself was evidently damaged as was the house next to it:

We headed toward the central part of the village where the shops, bank, and Mairie (town hall) are located. We found over a hundred people gathered at this spot. Though we had our masks on, it was hard to remain conscious of Covid as we went through the motions of picking up information while in a dazed state and perhaps a state of shock too.

There were several Pompier’s (firemen) in the village. However, they themselves had little information at the time (although incredible rescue efforts would soon commence and elsewhere a Pompier had already tragically died the day before during the storm).

As we arrived at the main square of Saint Martin Vesubie, we obtained limited information. One woman said that we were the worst hit the village although we had no way to confirm this at the time. Before this point, my partner and I had wondered whether there was destruction heading on for dozens of miles. I recall asking, “I wonder what it must be like in Nice?!” under the assumption that the destructive flood may have only accumulated the further the water headed down the mountains. This, however, would turn out not to be the case, and indeed, we were among the worst hit villages.

Listening in on conversations, my girlfriend heard a Pompier tell people to clear their cars from Place de La Frairie as it was under threat of collapse! That’s right, the place in which we lived, they feared, was at least potentially in danger of collapsing. My girlfriend at the time works in the holiday homes management sector and so thankfully she had the keys to a place nearby. We rushed back to the house, put the cats in their boxes, grabbed some essentials, and made our way to her client/friend’s house before my girlfriend at the time moved her car up to the main square of the village.

We stayed in this house for a while, but with growing apprehension and after talking with more professionals, we both agreed that we should sleep in the car in the central part of the village for the night (which is also roughly the highest point of the village). So we began a long and tiresome effort of carrying the cat boxes uphill to our car. Once the cats were in the car and with my partner staying there to take care of them, I headed back on two more trips to collect everything else we’d put in her client/friend’s house.

We settled in, in the car. We didn’t have much to eat or drink with us, so we rationed things carefully as we had no idea how long we’d be staying there for. Anxiety rose at the thought of getting on a helicopter to leave the village (as one bridge was down and the other was yet to be assessed for safety), mainly because of the cats and our concern that their little hearts would not be able to manage the loud and dramatic sounds of a helicopter.

(The tent the car was parked beneath. The car is just behind me, out of view)

Toward the evening time, my girlfriend managed to get a lend of a man’s phone which had a small bit of connection. She called her friend who became emotional as soon as she heard her voice, realising that she knew for sure that we were alive. Clearly, to the outside world, no one could know for sure what was happening. The message got out to our friends and family from there that we were alive and safe.

On a positive note, some people in the village cooked up some gnocchi that night in metal pots atop a gas canister stove. The day was something of a blur overall, though. To be honest, it’s hard to give any good indication as to how long we actually slept, but the day seemed to fly in all the same.

The cats had settled in well. There were six boxes with three rows of two stacked boxes, four with one cat and two with two. We let them out, one or two at a time to get some freedom while we made sure to feed and water them throughout the day as well as comforting them during this stressful experience. The two Grey Persians kept warm together when they were outside their box. They usually preferred their space, but given the temperature, they seemingly just wanted to keep as warm as they could. An occasional growl toward the other when they moved was unsurprising, however.

(The ‘greybies’ cosying up together next to their litter tray).

The night was cold and eerie. Every time we heard a distant sound, our hearts jumped. Each of us asked “What was that?” several times during the night. There was an anxiety that anything could happen. Was the house safe? Were we safe, even at this high point? I couldn’t get the fear out of my head that the entire village could collapse. Looking back, that was an overblown fear but it was hard not to feel that type of anxiety given just how much destruction had happened overnight and considering that we had, had no idea just how bad it was until we witnessed the aftermath that morning.

Day 3 - An Absurd Twist

On Sunday, helicopters took people from the village to Nice Airport, rescuing them from what had effectively become our island village. I recall my partner talking to a woman in French who was passing by our car and finding out for us that they were going to let cars leave from the following day (via the bridge next to the house). We now hoped that we wouldn’t be stuck between a choice of staying behind in a cut off village and taking a helicopter, which could prove dangerous for the cats.

Day three was something of a blur too. We slept for a while, I think, although I can’t say for sure. We got some grub that evening as well. That night, however, had an unexpected turn. We had to take times going to the bathroom during the night, and on one occasion, we had a mix up that ended with us accidentally locked out of the car. In the end, the Pompier’s came to our aid and managed to pull the window slightly out of place so that with a metal hangar, they could hook the car keys and pull them up.

One of the Pompier’s made the sounds of the Mission Impossible theme song. We all had tried to make light-hearted moments where we could. With special protective gloves, one of the Pompier’s got the keys and pressed down on the button to open the car. We thanked them repeatedly as we regained access to the vehicle and the cats! We agreed to ensure that there was always one person in the car at any time from then on.

Day 4 - Leaving

On Monday morning, we were officially told we would be given permission to leave. Several hours passed, and then around early to mid-afternoon, we got on the road. We found ourselves parked behind a line of cars leading from the main square down to the bridge. There was a queue, although we weren’t sure at the time whether they were letting several cars over a time, one at a time, or just waiting for some other reason.

A woman came by checking that our name was on the list to drive out. At one point, we saw a police office strolling around with a gun. Some time passed, perhaps almost an hour, and then we headed over the bridge once the traffic got moving, and we began the long journey to Nice (since the usual route was inaccessible).

On the way, we had to stop while a rescue helicopter took off from the road:

As I began to finally get some signal again, I called my family for the first time in days and contacted several of my partner’s friend’s. While everyone already knew we were safe, it was good to be able to communicate normally again. A little under halfway through the journey, we stopped off at a parking spot in the mountains to give the cat’s some attention since the road trip was stressful for them.

It was a lovely, warm October afternoon, and if you didn’t see the destruction, you’d think it was another typical day in the pristine and beautiful Alps. In reality, there was a deep feeling of darkness afflicting the valleys, and it will take a long time for the region to rebuild itself after the destruction of this extraordinary and arguably biblical flood/storm. After about a 90 minute journey, we reached the place where we were to stay in, in Nice.

I will never forget what happened that weekend in the Alps. Storm Alex took 16 lives in total across Europe. It was most destructive along the French/Italian border region. RIP to all who perished in this devastating storm.

(Image Source: FloodList... The other images are originals)

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thisdaynews · 4 years

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BREAKING:FG, WHO Target 20% of Nigeria's Population for COVID-19 Vaccination.

New Post has been published on https://thebiafrastar.com/breakingfg-who-target-20-of-nigerias-population-for-covid-19-vaccination/

BREAKING:FG, WHO Target 20% of Nigeria's Population for COVID-19 Vaccination.

Onyebuchi Ezigbo and Olawale Ajimotokan in Abuja

The national government and the World Health Organization (WHO) have said that COVID-19 antibodies will initially be given to 20 percent of the nation’s most weak populace when prepared.