THE WONDER AND BEAUTY OF GNAOUA AND WORLD MUSIC - ESSAOUIRA 2010

THE PRESS BADGES

Two years ago, John and I apply for press badges for the Essaouira Festival - John for his videos of live recordings for his daftnotstupid You Tube site and me for my blog. However, we are unsuccessful, so we don't bother last year or this. Strangly, though, and probably on the strength of the quality of John's videos, which receive over 500 hits per day, we are offered badges for this year's festival without even asking. Quite a surprise and very much an honour, if a bit scary.





What these treasured passes allow us to do is to not only gain entrance to the VIP/guests/family enclosure at the front but also to the smaller inner sanctum reserved for photographers right below the stage.

John doing his 'Hollywood Director Thing'

We can also interview some of the artists, which I hope to do but never manage... bad back, excessive day-time heat and all that.

However, bad back or not, I am up there on one of the two plinths taking photographs at either Moulay Hassan or Bab Marrakech for four nights on the trot. Dance a lot, too, in the VIP area. Hence the need for two oesteopath treatments to keep me mobile. But I'm not going to miss an opportunity of a life-time.



Most of the photographs, therefore, on this post, are taken close to the performances and, given that I'm a total amateur with just my little Lumix camera, and I'm really a writer, not a photographer, I'm delighted with them. I hope that they give you some idea of the whole visual effect of Gnaoua and World Music, plus the vitality and quality of the performances.)

I am rubbing shoulders with professional photographers but most of the time I feel really confident in what I am doing. Just occasionally, I feel a bit of a fraud but when two photographers from Cassablanca laugh at my little Lumix, I give as good as I get. And I shall send them some of my photographs just to show that a little Lumix can be pretty damn good.



Three things that I discover:-

1. I am instinctively looking for 'the shot'
2. My Lumix does not take the shot immediately when I press the button, but flashes several seconds later, and it is that shot that is taken. But because I've seen a lot of Gnaoua performances, I often know what the dancers/Maalem are going to do next, so I press the button to capture the action about to take place.
3. I sometimes forget to aim the camera above the front drop of the stage and have to keep reminding myself to aim higher so I just capture the action on the stage. (However, John has just taught me the art of cropping, which is brilliant, so I can mainly get rid of that grey drop.)

This photographer is not me - I think she is a French professional photographer with a particular interest in Daby Toure. There is not much chatting on those plinths - people are just too busy. I do, however, manage to talk to Artak Gevorgyan, the Director of The Armenian Navy Band during a lull - more on that later.

THE OPENING CEREMONY - THURSDAY 24TH JUNE





Come with me into our hotel room at 'Hotel L'Heure Bleu'. It's spacious, with a study area, bed, seating area and en-suite. It's just full of Moroccan colour - the windows and verandah doors have bright, primary coloured segments at the top, which glow from the outside sunshine, and the furnishings are deep burgandy and white. The whole effect is pleasing to the eye and mind and room is welcomingly cool.

It's a new hotel, built into the old city walls and in the riad tradition of floors built around a central, open area. Doormen man the doors. It's spotlessly clean and restful and the staff are highly professional and extremely friendly. In fact, friends now.

I've been lazing about on the roof-top terrace in the afternoon, chatting with Hisham in terrible, stilted French (most Moroccans speak fluent French), but want to see how the opening ceremony is shaping up. It's due to start at 6.30 so there's about an hour or so to go. John is already out, ready to film.

I open the balcony doors. A fresh breeze hits me - it's always windy in Essaouira. The sun is shining brightly, reflecting brilliant whiteness from the Bab Marrakech Square in front of me and the new buildings opposite and to the left. To the right I catch a glimpse of the sea. I can't see the beach from here but I know it will be like a massive, informal area of dozens of impromptu football matches - the Moroccans love football. Le football, in French.

The stage is already set up, ready for the performances which start here tomorrow. The vast square facing it is not empty, though. There, in front of me, is a huge semi-circle of magnificantly dressed horses with Arab horsemen already mounted. These are the Fantasia Allems - five groups altogether, led by Abdellah Annouze, Abdelkrim Haddar, Moulay Allal Idrissi, Hadj Ahmed Machtoune and Moustapha Dalam.



The tradition of Fantasia, born in the 15th century, simulates military cavalry attacks thus displaying the skill of the horses and horsemen. In present days, these displays are often used to celebrate special events - like the Essaouira Gnaoua and World Festival.

It might be windy but I know it's hot out there but these horses and horsemen barely move. There might be an occasional nodding of a head or small side-step (the horses, I'm talking about!) but otherwise they are stationary. The discipline is tangible.



And along the road below me, cordoned off, are the brightly dressed Maalems and their Gnaoua groups. They are waiting, too. There is much greeting of friends and press interviews. It's a beautiful scenario.

I grab my valued press badge and make my way outside. I have to weave through the crowds from the hotel entrance and the twenty or so yards to the large gateless gate that marks the exit from the old fortress city to the vast Bab Marrakech Square.

There's a woman sitting just before the gate, with a small boy and a bundle, which I later discover is a beautiful baby sporting a black and white head-scarf. She has been sitting there all day, holding out some tattered documents, and quite clearly begging.

I've passed her so many times without stopping but this time I just can't pass. I sit next to her on the ground and she shows me her baby. John and I have so much in comparison, she so little. We're about to enjoy the festival; she desperately needs money for food and shelter. It's that bitter-sweet aspect to life that I've written about in an earlier Xmas blog.

I dash back into the hotel and the room, scoop up what money we have on the table, dash back down and give her the money. It's only a small gesture - about five pounds or so - but I feel I have to do something. (She's gone when I return and I don't see her again, so hopefully what I gave her will have kept her going for a few days.)

Then I push my way through the crowd for about twenty metres and come to one of the many security checks. This is the first time I've used my badge. I am let through and there I am, among all the performers and press. I take out my little Lumix and start taking photographs. It's magic. Just magic.





These are pigeons which will be released later but I miss this bit plus the cannon shot, which I do at least hear from the room and has me almost jumping out of my skin.

I manage to say hello to Maalem Mahmoud Guinea but I don't think he recognises me at this stage. (We went to his home for a special Xmas Night Lila a few years ago.) He must be thinking :'Who's this mad English woman?!'













(The dancer in the foreground is the spitting image of Michael in 'The Wire' although it can't possibly be him.)

Later on, I go back into the room and onto the balcony and take photographs as the Gnaoua groups start their procession, making music and dancing as they go along. They make their way in a winding spectacle of colour and noise around the edge of the city walls, the horsemen following, to arrive at Moulay Hassan, the large square close to the sea and within the city walls on the other side of Essaouira. I don't follow: I need to prepare for the first performance at Moulay Hassan later in the evening (i.e. have a drink, some cake and a ciggie.)



















CONCERT D'OVERTURE AT MOULAY HASSAN

It's nearly eight and still light and very warm. I've taken my usual short cut, using alleys within the city walls, to avoid the crowds. I arrive at the first check-in point near the stage to get me into the VIP area. My badge is scrutinised and I am let through. Then I come to the next check-in, where my badge is digitally swiped. I'm let through there (phew!).



The VIP area is set up with chairs in formal rows for VIPs, friends and families. An official is giving a speech in Arabic in front of a photograph of King Mohammed VI, who helps sponser the festival. I'm new to all this, so I don't ask who he actually is. Great journalist I am! Anyway, I'm eager for the music to start.



After the speech and the introduction from the stage of yet another official I don't get the name of (!), wearing a very distinctive top (the type I might have made in my knitting/sewing days), I attempt to procede into the photographers small enclosure in front of the stage. My badge is checked again for the camera symbol and then, wonder of wonders, I'm through. I'm very impressed with the security. I position myself on one of the plinths with the other photographers, hardly believing that I'm actually there.

I peep through the partially open curtain at the side and spy several male Georgian dancers waiting to go onto the stage. They look so dashingly handsome that I'm thinking: this has to be a dream, surely....a fantastic dream... a best thing in the world dream...a what have I done to deserve this? dream.

The first set starts in a typical Gnaoua flurish...fast playing symbols, ryhthmic druming, the distinctive deep resonations of the gumbris (Gnaoua guitars) and the crisply melodic voices of the Maalems. There are two Maalems (brothers) and their groups: Maalem Mohamed Kouyou and Maalem Said Kouyou. I'm enthralled and start clicking away.

Then they are joined by members of The Sukhishvili Georgian National Ballet. I count five in all but they move so quickly it's hard to tell. And the two sets of dancers -The Georgians and the Gnauoans - challenge each other with their different styles of dancing. It's very exciting, breathtaking stuff as they leap higher than would seem humanly impossible (not evident in these photos so you'll have to take my word for it).

This is far, far better than watching from a balcony. I can see clearly the interaction between the dancers and musicians plus their physical strength and their facial expressions. They are quite clearly loving performing as much as we (the audience - particularly beyond the VIP area) are loving the performance. This is real quality...joyous music and dancing...highly professional and skilled. Eat your heart out Take That.

I had expected the Georgians to be women, dancing in a semi-circle as if their feet are on wheels, but these are some of the men, dressing and dancing like Cossacks (think great Russian novels like Doctor Zhivago and War and Peace.)But the Gnaoui are more than a match for them. In fact, I claim here and now that the Gnaoui are the best dancers in the world. Not only is the Gnaoua dance so complicated and unusual (try as I may, I can only emulate just a few random steps), but they can dance in many other styles when there's a fusion session.

The Armenian Navy Band are due to be part of the act but they aren't there. I am intrigued by such a group and do actually get to see them later and they're not at all what I expected. But very, very good.

Most of the VIPs are sitting rigidly, particularly the military/police chiefs on the front row (I suppose it's not cool for them to show too much enthusiasm) but I can see heads moving in tune with the beat and the beginnings of body movements. The audience behind, though, are going wild.

I can't help it, I start to dance to the music and eventually I'm asked to leave the plinth. Fair enough. I've learnt one of the many lessons I've learnt this year about conducting myself appropriately as a member of the press. For the rest of the festival, I move down into the VIP area if I want to dance.

Step Africa

Not a very good photo, unfortunately, but these are just some of the Step Africa dance team in the VIP area. I meet them quite by chance. I am making my way through the VIP crowd when I spot a man with a Hiati emblem on his sleeve. Me being me, I launch into a 'How are things going in Hiati?' kind of thing because the earthquake was so horrendous. Turns out he is Dan Cassanova from the Step Africa team.

I tell him about the disruption caused by the invasion of Cyprus and we chat about the dance team. They are due to perform with Maalem Mustapha Bakbou at Moulay Hassan on the Saturday evening. John goes over there to record them while I am at Bab Marrakesh.

John and Hisham(from 'Hotel L'Heure Bleu')



Hisham buys us drinks after the first set at the cafe next to the VIP area. We have a much needed rest and it is a delight to share our love of the music with Hisham. To see other photos of Hisham, look at my previous festival posts. He is one of the nicest people I have ever met and very handsome, too. Just wish my French was better.

MAALEM HASSAN BOUSSOU



By now I am pretty wacked, so I don't take many photos (both body and mind in revolt). Maalem Hassan Boussou is a young, powerful Maalem with a voice like clear honey. He's fast becoming John's favourite. See John's daftnotstupid site for John's interview with Hassan. This isn't a fantastic photo but it's the best I took.

I go back to the hotel shortly afterwards and collapse onto the bed. Exhausted but happy.

THE AUDIENCE

Without the audience, the show would mean nothing. I've written about this before but I'll say it again. The audiences at the festival are so enthusiastic, vocal, responsive and obviously delighting in the music that sometimes it's a joy to turn round and photograph them. It's a sign of recognition of their importance. Here are just some of the shots I took:-

FRIDAY - BAB MARRAKECH

For the next two evenings, I cover the performances in Bab Marrakech, whilst John concentrates on those at Moulay Hassan. And I'm going to post my photographs rather than describe in lots of words: Gnaoua is so visual that photographs really do reveal more than the written word. I'll only add comments when I've something special to say. ALL the performances were fantastic so take that as read.

Maalem Abdullah Guinea

I'm pretty sure that this is Mahmoud's brother. There are a number of brothers performing here: just goes to show how the Gnaoua tradition is carried down from father to sons. (Not sure about daughters!)









I am very impressed with this dancer, who seems to be part of several Gnaoua groups. He's got this wonderful ability to dance in a crouching position and often his robe swirls around him, forming a magically coloured material cylinder.

Daby Toure

Daby Toure has a great rapour with the audience: he has us eating out of his hand, directs us as we sing to his music and makes us feel as if we're part of the performance. Certainly a performer to learn more about.











Maalem Mahmoud Guinea

This is the best peformance by Mahmoud that I have ever seen: he's certainly in top form. I'm learning to recognise the differences between Gnaoua Maalems; they each have their own style and sound. Mahmoud displays such authority, totally in charge and directing all his dancers and musicians that I'm quite in awe. This is certainly the best performance of all that I see during the festival.

Hassan, his apprentice, has a leading role - he's learnt his craft well. And to my pleasure, both of Mahmoud's sons are in the group and what talent they already show. They dance with such ease, such fluidity as if the music is flowing through them...and always with serene smiles, obviously loving the experience. I am captivated.







Maalem Mahmoud Guinea and Daby Toure

Instead of adding individual photos to the post, John has created a slide show on Flickr with photographs from this set. He says it makes the page faster to load and the post easier to read. (Just click on the playlist to make it play. Click on the bottom-right icon on the playlist to make it fullscreen.)



FRIDAY EVENING - BAB MARRAKECH

Fatima Tabaamrant

I am sitting on the balcony when Fatima comes on the stage. I am intending to wait a while before tripping down to the press area but as soon as she starts to sing, I am off my chair, grabbing my badge and key and rushing along to the lift. (By now, I am just using the lift to conserve energy - I usually prefer the stairs but there are a lot of them and when you've got important work to do...)

From a distance, she looks like a female matador but up close she is all woman...very glamorous...very attractive...and with a deep voice that projects itself right into the distance. This is what I call a woman with balls but oozing
femininity, as do her three dancers.

She courts the photographers, kneeling down and singing to us so we can get a good photograph. I've never seen this before and I appreciate the gesture.

I have no idea what she's singing but I find myself singing quietly to the rhythm. No I idea what I'm singing but it just feels right...exciting...joyful.



Maalem Aziz Bakbou with Daniel Zimmerman and The Armenian Navy Band

John and I only have a few days before the festival to research some of the performers. Daniel Zimmerman is one that I chose. I have learnt from the internet that he is German, speaks English and is a heavy rock musician. I have even requested an interview with him.

But when we read our special press reviews about the festival, John says to me:'It says here that Daniel Zimmerman is French and is a trombone player.'

Apparently, there are two David Zimmermans who are musicians. Bet you didn't know that! Anyway, the one I see now is very good but I have already cancelled the interview. I don't like to interview people if I haven't done my research.



And now for The Armenian Navy Band. I think I can be forgiven for expecting them to be a formal group sporting white naval costumes and playing traditional band music. But, in fact, they are jazz musicians. When I talk to their director, Artak Gevorgyan, I am driven to express empathy because of our countries misfortunes with Turkey. So, yet another person who must be thinking : 'who's this crazy English woman?'

Saturday

Amazigh Kateb



This has been a wonderful evening. I cannot remember enjoying myself as much as this. It has been magical. As well as taking photographs of the artists performing on the stage, I have danced, chatted, laughed, and been befriended by a group of charming young Moroccan children in the VIP area. I am calling them "Les enfants".

Unfortunately, after the set photographed here, I do not realize that my camera has ran out of space. Therefore, though I take lots of photographs of the next sets - Amazigh Kateb, Maalem Abdeslam Alikane, and Amzigh Kateb with Maalem Abdeslam Alikane and Tyour Gnaoua, I have absolutely nothing to show for it. All I can say, is that they were excellent. So much for the budding photographer!

Sunday

Concert de cloture

This is the last evening of gnaoua. There are just two sets to be played. Firstly Iguadar at 5:30, and then Maalem Hamid El Kasri and a number of guests to follow at 6:30. I have an osteopathic appointment that afternoon and am delayed. In fact I am so delayed that I am convinced that the whole performance will have ended. As I make my way along the back streets with a very sore back and holding a cushion to sit on, I mutter to myself because I am sure that I have missed this final concert. There are many people walking away from the area which seems to me an indication that this is so. I can actually feel tears salting my eyes.

However, as I approach the back of the stage, I am delighted to hear that there is still music playing. I have missed Iguadar, but Maalem Hamid El Kasri, on of my favourite gnaoua maalems, is now playing.  I rush through security and take my place on one of the plinths. Because this is the last set of the festival there are many photagraphers jostling for a place.

I have given my white cap to one of the children yesterday and so am wearing my white straw hat with a flower in it. This is not a good piece of headware to wear when photographing on a plinth with an eager audience just behind you wanting to watch. Eventually I am shooed to one side by some of the audience and I can't say that I blame them. I shall not make this mistake again.

I sit on the edge of the plinth to catch my breath after all the excitement of the evening, and then I am tapped on the shoulder by an official. "oh dear!", I think, "what have I done now?" However, the official is pointing to our good friend Hisham who has managed to get himself yet again into the VIP area.  It is a delight to see him and I take these photographs.

Maalem Hamid El Kasri



By now, my battery is dead so I can't take any more photgraphs. Time to sidle away, squeeze our way through the dancing crowds, and haul ourselves up the steps to our favourite restaurant - Bab Lachour - with the terrace that overlooks the square.

We sink gratefuly onto chairs and listen to the rest of the music from there.

This is the sad part. The sun has now set and we are near the end of the 11th Essaouira Gnaoua and World Festival. We are absolutely shattered and have much work to do when we go home. But ... words cannot express just how glorious this has all been and we hope,insh'alla, to come back next year and to watch some more of this incredible music. You really don't know what you are missing.

Acknowledgements:

• Ibtissam Alaoui from The Festival Office, Essaouira, who issued both John and I with press badges. And also for acting as translator for John in his interview with Hassan Boussou.
• Docteur Charif Toufelaz,Essaouira -osteopath - for not only keeping me mobile but enabling me to continue to take photographs (and to dance - probably not advisable but I just couldn't help myself!).
• The staff at Hotel L'Heure Bleu, Essaouira.
• The staff at Villa Des Orangers, Marrakech
• John Knutson of daftnotstupid for posting my photographs using flickr.

and finally

Aziza and Khadija of GIPSY SURFER

Gipsy Surfer is a beach/surfwear shop at 14, rue Tetouan, Essaouira which sells modern, chic beachwear, sunglasses, bags, etc.

I usually make at least one purchase every year and this year was no different. After a good chat and discussion of the festival, I came away with a vivid orange beach top - loosely fitting and nicely flattering - and a delightful cotton bag with a bright green, orange, brown, and white floral pattern. It's special feature is brown, beaded webbing at the front and brown wooden handles.

Lou took one look at it and it became hers. She's not to be seen without it, now.

So, thank you Aziza and Khadija. I love coming to your shop and enjoy your excellent service. Insh'alla, I shall see you next year at festival time.

Aziza and Khadija of GIPSY SURFER

Afterthought

My nail beautician, Claire, at New Midas in Winchester, used to be a bouncer at big UK festivals. She tells me of horrific stories about guarding the stage from 'crazy' fans.

Apparently, there are two rows of bouncers at the front. The first row - nearest the crowd - catch 'surfers' who use the crowd to propel their horizontal bodies towards the stage. The second row - in front of the stage - gives the extra protection. But these bouncers have to be changed every 15 minutes because the noise from the amplifiers is so loud that their hearing could be permanently damaged if they stay there too long. Nice job if you can get it. As in NOT!

So pleased, therefore, that the audience at the Essaouira Festival don't need such drastic management. This, I think, is a trbute to the Moroccans.

Essaouira gnaoua festival - daily report

Tuesday 22 June Villa des Orangers Marrakech Great stuff! As in not! My back has siezed up - will have to change plans. I am dictating this to John - it's about time he earned his keep!

But it's hot and sunny and resting in this beautiful riad hotel is a pleasure. Everyone's talking about the festival. Hope I'll be up to dancing.

Portugal 7 North Korea 0 - That's a surprise.

Off now to have a facial.

Wednesday 23 June

Drove to Essaouira - half motorway ( great), half rubble ( awful). Hobbling around with stiff back. Lovely welcome from friends.

Got our Press badges. Yeah!!!

Thursday 24 June Essaouira

Fantastic opening ceremony in square opposite room. Gnaoua groups, tribesmen on horses, music.

First set in evening at Moulay Hassan. The maalem brothers Kouyou and Georgian dancers. Brilliant contrast dancing. Took photos from edge of stage with the professionals!

Second set was the wonderful Maalem Hassan Boussou.

Missed the Armenian Navy Band, though, who I really wanted to see.

WEDNESDAY 30TH JUNE - WINCHESTER ENGLAND (BACK FROM THE FESTIVAL).

THIS HAS BEEN MY FIRST ATTEMPT TO SAME-DAY BLOG AT THE FESTIVAL USING MY I-POD. NOT BAD REALLY, I THINK. HOWEVER, WE JUST COULDN'T GET A SIGNAL AFTER FRIDAY, PLUS WE WERE FAR TOO BUSY/EXHAUSTED TO KEEP IT UP.

ANYWAY, HAVING SPENT FOUR EVENINGS/NIGHTS IN CLOSE PROXIMITY TO THE MUSICIANS AND DANCERS, I'M GOING TO START AGAIN FROM THIS NEW PERSPECTIVE.

THE PHOTOGRAPHS ARE FANTASTIC. NOT BAD USING A LITTLE LUMIX (WHICH OTHER PHOTOGRAPHERS LAUGHED AT.)

IT'LL TAKE ME SOME TO COMPLETE THIS (BECAUSE YOU ALL NOW KNOW THAT MY BACK HAS BEEN SERIOUSLY COMPROMISED) BUT BE PATIENT - IT WILL BE WORTH THE WAIT.

FINALLY, A BIG HI TO U-CEF. SORRY YOU MISSED OUT ON SOME KIP ON THE PLANE! I'D LOVE BE YOUR FRIEND ON FACEBOOK - BUT JOHN WILL HAVE TO DO IT FOR ME. SO, PATEINCE.

To read my complete report on the Festival and to view the many photographs I took, click onto The Wonder and Beauty of Gnaoua and World Music - Essaouira 2010

ESSAOUIRA 2010

The bags are packed, the tension is growing. We now have the line up and it's going to be fantastic: a mixture of gnawa, jazz, reagee, heavy metal, groups, individuals, world musicians, excellent Morocco Gnawa groups plus The Georgian State Ballet! (I saw them years ago, in Sunderland, and they are brilliant - as if they're floating on air) and The Armenian Navy Band (!).

The Festival always likes to throw in someone you would never expect and the ANB fits that bill exactly! The Festival will open wth a fusion of the Georgian State Ballet, the ANB and Maalem Mohamed Kouyou and Said Kouyou, which should be fascinating.

Other Gnawa groups include:-

*Maalem Hassan Boussou (maalem means master)

*Maalem Said Ouressan

*Maalem Abdellah Guinea

*Maalem Mahmoud Guinea

*Hamid El Kasri

Other Groups:-

*Daby Toure

*Ganga d'Agadir

*Step Africa

*Speed Caravan

Individual artists:-

*Patrice

*Fatima Tabaamrant

*Daniel Zimmerman

*Scott Kinley

*Mattiew Garrison

* Horacio El Negro

(these last three will play together)

Plus loads, loads more - I'm running out of time here.

Just to add that it looks as if we'll be getting press badges, so we can record close up and interview some of the artists.

LOOKS LIKE I'LL NEED A HOLIDAY AFTER THIS - WE'RE GOING TO BUSY, BUSY, BUSY !!!

Did someone mention the World Cup. What World Cup?

You may well never have heard of most/all of these musicians but hopefully, after we've posted our recordings, you'll have a better idea and want to find out more.

ENGLAND FOOTBALL TEAM - HELP !!!

That's it - help !!!

BOOK REVIEWS - THE GIRL WITH THE DRAGON TATTOO by STIEG LARSSON

This is a phenomonal novel. The first in a trilogy and set in Sweden it combines several major plots in one novel. It's more than a murder/mystery novel: there's also an expose of big business and finance.

Sometimes it reads more like a financial journal and this can be a bit tedious at times but it's essential to the plot and I managed to read those parts, as apposed to John, who skim-read them.

But it's really the characters who maintain the interest and push the story forward.

Mikael Blomkist is the leading character in this first novel. As a financial journalist, he has been found guilty of libel and spends some time in prison. However, this is barely covered. The plot revolves around his employment to discover what happened to Harrient Venger, the grand-daughter of the successful and influential Henrik Venger, who disappeared years previously.

If you think you have the family from hell, take a look at the Venger family. They may be rich but they're a nasty lot.

The most interesting character, however, is Lisbeth Salander, who is a disfunctional, possibly autistic, private investigator, who is brilliant with computers. She becomes involved in Mikael's work and together they form a formidable team.

It's written in an incredible amount of depth which I can only, as a writer, marvel at.

It was my osteopath, Nick Harding, who recommended the trilogy and since I value his judgement, I bought all three novels.

John had now read them all but I shall pace myself with the other two. But I'm looking forward to reading them. It's impossible to clear the characters from your mind.

Sadly, the author died at an early age but I'm sure he would be pleased at the popularity:there are ceratinly films to follow.

BLAME IT ON THE OVEN GLOVES

It's the day after the evening before and so, okay, I got the score wrong.

Football is certainly a bitch!

We were ecstatic when Gerrard scored after 4 minutes and thought that England would go on to dominate the game. However, they allowed the US too much possession afterwards and then there was that goal.

I reckon that the gloves the goalie - Robart Green - was wearing were far too large and clumsy. He could hardly have felt enough sensation through the darn things to realise that he hadn't secured the ball. Why didn't he just throw himself on the ball and smother it with his body?

Oh well, he did save an excellent US shot in the second half so we could have actually ended up losing 1-2.

I thought we played good attacking football in the second half and if the US goalie hadn't been so good, we could have won at least 4-1. Perhaps he was wearing better gloves. However, John did point out that we didn't really play as a fluent, co-ordinated team. And this was most obvious when we had a throw in. Poor Ashley Cole was screaming for players to get in place.

When I was in the school netball team decades ago, we used to practice set pieces and we were only amateur. Can't understand why England don't have such moves ready.

And I can't understand why Wayne Rooney doesn't contribute more. He can do more than just wait for a good ball to come his way. In premiership football, he is far more dominant. Imposes himself far more in the game.

So, I was left with that dull feeling of resignation afterwards that I so often feel after England have not fulfilled their potential. It's the same feeling that I had this morning when I tried on my holiday clothes and discovered, as I knew I would, that what looked great last year, didn't this year.

Some good news, though. There have been so many complaints about those damn hooters that they could possibly be banned inside the stadium. Go for it, is what I say.

On a note of past victories, however, I will leave you with the memory of the international match a few years ago when England smashed Germany 5-1. So it can be done.

My final comment- I know England won't win the World Cup but it's still a disappointment. And my advice to Fabio Capello is this : Get some set pieces set-up. Adjust them accordingly at half-time, taking into account the strengths and weaknesses shown in all players in the first half. Stick with the same goalie - he's got something to prove. And if possible, change those bloody gloves, which look like oven gloves, and make him practice holding onto the ball over and over again.

But will he take my advice? I doubt it. Same old story.

WORLD CUP 2010, SOUTH AFRICA

As is quite clearly obvious, I have done very little blogging recently. This is because of my back/neck problems, as those of you who visit my blog regularly (and I love you all!) already know about.

The plan had been to dictate to John, so he could write my blog exerts for me, but it hasn't panned out like that.

However, I'm getting a new chair on Wednesday, which should give far more support for my back, and then John (and this will takes weeks for him to get round to) will lower my table appropriately so that my arms can actually rest properly on the table. Then we'll see if I can write again more regularly without my back seizing up. Fingers crossed because I've found myself very bored not being able to write. (And, by the way, steriod injections have helped greatly.)

But I can't go off to Morocco next week for the Festival without airing my views on the World Cup. So, here goes.

* I adore the World Cup. It's such an opportunity for people across the world to have a positive shared experience. And I like watching football, which helps.

* Very moved by watching and listening to the people of South Africa celebrating this massive event in their country after all those years of exclusion from world sport.

*Supporting England, of course. We have a large England flag hanging out of our bedroom window and I have a flag on my car. Now, we live on a very long street in Winchester and there are only three flags on display. Says a lot about our street. I'm half-expecting some-one to say that we're lowering the tone of the street, so I'm practising my sarcastic, you-must-be-crazy laugh. As one of my friends commented, though, it just confirms to some of my neighbours how crazy I am. (It's always me, never John.)

*Do I think Enland will win? Let me just stop here until my laughter has ceased...As I've been telling all those prepared to listen to me (including total stangers), in order to win the World Cup you need good ball control and accurate passing. I rest my case.

*However, I would love to be proved wrong!

*Think it's very unfair that only days before the tournament started, players have been told that they'll be sent off if they swear. Now, I'm all in favour of that in theory, but to give so little notice I think is asking too much for players who like to let off steam by using an expletive or two. And how can the referrees learn all the different swear words in so many different languages in just a few days?

*The tournament started yesterday and the only match I've seen so far was France v Uruguay, which was so lack-lustre that I couldn't wait for it to end so we could watch Prison Break, which I hope to write about at some time. Suffice to say, we're on Season Three so that tells you something. (Bob Wisdom from 'The Wire', who we met at the Festival last year (such a charming man) is in this season and plays a very different character from the jovial Bunny. Plus the actor, Wentworth Miller, who plays a pivitol role in all the seasons, is a delight to watch because he's so handsome.)

*Back to the football. Must mention those the irriting noise of those foul hooters being blown during matches. Before even half-time of last night's match, I was heartedly wishing they had never been invented.

*In less than half-an-hour England will play their first match against the USA. I predict a 2-1 win for England but that could just be wishful thinking and I certainly haven't put money on it. But fingers crossed!

NEW PEARLS OF WISDOM

You may only be in a majority of one but the truth is always the truth (Gandi)

Essaouira Gnaoua and World Music Festival, June 24-27 2010 - dates confirmed

At last, the official dates are now up on the festival web-site and I am pleased to confirm that the 13th Essaouira Gnaoua and World Music Festival will be held Thursday to Sunday, June 24-27, 2010.

The official festival website at http://www.festival-gnaoua.net/ currently says "Under Construction", but I'm sure that they will update it before too long, since the line-up and the updated website are usually posted late-May/early-June. Here's the image that is currently posted there:

If you can't wait until June and need to hear some gnaoua music right now, you'll find plenty on the playlists on the DaftNotStupid blog and DaftNotStupidYouTube channel.

A TRIBUTE TO MITZI UPTON

My beautiful...darling...funny...fiesty... sister-in-law, Mitzi, died at seven in the evening on Wednesday 7th April. She had been ill for a long time but that doesn't make the grief any easier.



My husband, John, and his other sister, Marietta, had no idea that they had a half-sister who had been adopted after birth, until they were adults. Tragic but that's often how things are in this world.

However, when John's mother died eight years ago, we decided to look for Mitzi. All we had was an old address in Glastonbury. We set off on Boxing Day, the day after the awful tsunami, and arrived in a cold, forlorn, wet and miserable Glastonbury. It was virtually deserted - all the wierd and wonderful crystal, magicical, hippy shops were closed and a whipping wind chilled us to the bone.

We found the address easily but, no, Mitzi was long gone. Later we discovered that the young woman who lived there had once been a girlfriend of Mitzi's oldest son, Dan. Co-incidences happen a lot in Glastonbury. However, she did tell us that Mitzi had a friend who worked in the nearby Woodcutters Pub. So off we went on our quest.

Of course, the friend wasn't working that day but John explained who he was and left his telephone number, not expecting much but at least feeling he had at least tried.

But just before the New Year he got a phone call: "I'm Mitzi. I'm your sister."

So back we went to Glastonbury in the new year and met up with Mitzi and Dan at The George and Pilgrims Hotel and that was it ...the start of a wonderful new life for us all. We hit it off straight away...all of us kindred spirits.

John and I had never been part of a large extended family and suddenly we had neices, nephews, great neices and a host of friends. It was like we had come home.

.

With the generosty of spirit that was so characteristic of her, Mitzi arranged a special party at The King Alfred Pub in Glastonbury to celebrate both the 21st birthday of her second son, Luke, and John's birthday - they share the same birthday.

We also met Hana, Mitzi's daughter, an absolute sweetheart, and Mitzi's multitude if friends. You all know who you are and I can cheerfully say that we're all as mad as hatters. Naturally, we had a marvellous time. There's nothing like getting drunk together to seal a relationship.

Maggie, Lou, Mitzi, and Dorothy

But my over-riding memory of that evening was of seeing Luke for the first time as he toppled over the garden wall and into the party as 'pissed as a newt'.

We knew right from the start that Mitzi had the lung disease emphesema and would need a lung/s transplant. For a long time she was still active and mobile but gradually her condition worsened and she needed to spend long periods of time using an oxygen mask, but that didn't phase her. She would have that transplant and all would be well and she was so determined and positive that we all believed her.

Indeed, she was rushed to the transplant centre in London - Harefields - on numerous occasions, even being totally prepped for surgury, but always someone else got the lungs or the lungs were found to be not of sufficient quality.

And all the time Mitzi was as upbeat as you could possibly get. Far more upbeat than me with my lesser ailments. She was an inspiration. And boy did she know the transplant system and the workings of the social services inside out. And she always had at least a plan B or a plan C in case plan A didn't work.

But in October of last year, the fumes from a new gas fire (possibly furniture polish because it was a showroom fire) affected her very badly and she was taken into hospital, where she stayed apart from a brief return home and to a cottage hospital nearer her home.

Twice we thought she was going to die and twice she revived, issuing orders and commands from her bed like a mafia mother. She was one tough lady but also very caring and compasionate and a lot of fun. I started to call her 'the come-back kid' because the hospital staff said they were amazed that she was still alive. Her desire to live was awesome to watch.

And still she was expecting that transplant. The last time I visited her, just days before she died, I asked if she was still up for a transplant and she said most definitely yes.

But there are some things in life you can't control - like volcanos erupting and floods sweeping away people and homes and the human body, which can only take so much. It's a somber realisation for us all.

Boy did we send her off in style. John and I stayed at Chindit House B+B, which was a perfect place to stay, with its restful gardens and peace and quiet, and friends and family travelled from all over. Sadly, the flight ban stopped a lot of people from getting to Glastonbury for her funeral, again, showing how little we human beings have only limited control over our lives. But we had fantastically warm and sunny weather for her funeral, celebration and wake.

We started off at Bath Crematorium, which is a very restful place, with large glass windows over-looking calming countryside. One of her best friends, Dorothy, read a most appropriate and moving poem, which she might like to leave on the comments section (cos I know you're following this Dorothy) and I recited Psalm 23 : The Lord is my shepherd etc. It's a psalm that I love very much.

Lou had come down from Bristol, where she now lives, so after the service, we took her to Bath, so she could catch the train home.We also took along the beautiful Anna, one of Dan's friends. It was lovely being in Bath - such a beautiful city - and we found a cafe in the sun for coffee.

It was only eleven o'clock but I was absolutely starving, although I'd had breakfast, and only a large piece of coffee cake would do. In fact, I can't remember a day when I ate and drank so many of the wrong things at the wrong time. (I started on the brandy cokes at some riduculous time of five in the afternoon.)

Shayne, Mitzi's long term carer, had provided nibbles at The Bear Inn in Street. I must mention here that Shane has been an absolute rock during these last years and as good a friend to Mitzi that you could get.John went there whilst I rested (it's my age - I can only do so much in one go!) back at Chindit House with bright sunshine pouring through the bedroom windows, comforting myself with the complementary chocolates left in the room.

Then, at 3.30 we all crowded into The Magdelene Chapel in Glastonbury for a service of celebration. There were so many people that most of us had to sit/stand in the small garden. I have never, ever got a suntan at a funeral before.

More people wanted to recall funny stories about Mitzi than we had time for. But the most moving speech came from John, devestated at losing the sister he had only just found. There were lots of tears shed that day and much laughter.

The family had created an enormous montage of photographs of Mitzi and this was displayed firstly at The Chapel and then at The King Alfred Pub for the wake. It was like coming in a full circle.

Most of us sat outside, still in brilliant sunshine. Friends and relatives laid on a fabulous spread and we ate, drank, chatted, laughed until the late evening.

The story doesn't end there, though. Having found and been accepted by all these lovely people, we shall go back often. In fact, a number of us are going to see Madness at The Glastonbury Extraveganza in August in The Glastonbury Abbey grounds. And we intend to have a very good time i.e. behave outrageously, dance a lot and make merry. In honour of Mitzi.

NEW SIX WORD MEMOIR

Crazy nutter requires cosy padded cell

(Might possibly write a short story based on this little pearl of a six word memoir - stranger things happen in life than could ever be made up)

HOW MANY TWITS MAKE A TWAT? asked david cameron

Just the one, David.

A BIG HI TO DOROTHY !!!

Returned home from Glastonbury this afternoon - relieved to be home but glad that Thursday and Friday went so well. There was a fight early Saturday morning, which I'll tell you about personally, but no real damage was done. I knew something would happen and am very glad that it wasn't me who lost my rag although I came close at the pub. Grief and alcohol are not a good mix but sometimes can't be helped.

It was lovely to meet again despite the sad circumstances. It would seem that lots of people want to see Madness at the Glastonbury Extraveganza. I'll post details of dates etc soon. Please think about coming - we'll have a smashing time (possibly literally!).

Hope you got back safely.

Love Maggie xxx

GENERAL ELECTION - MAY 2010

Can't stand all the coverage already. It's so depressing - I try not to watch/listen to it. Anyway, it's a no-brainer as far as I'm concerned.

Vince Cable is the only politician who understands economics and the financial crisis we are in. He has been the only politican speaking knowledgably on the subject for several years. The main challenge for our country is sorting out, long term, this financial collapse. Therefore, the next Chancellor of the Exchequer, should the most important position in government.

Vince Cable should be that person. Vince Cable is a Liberal Democrat. So, vote Liberal Democrat.

As I said, it's a no-brainer.

NEW BOOK REVIEW - THE WAY HOME BY GEORGE PELECANOS

George Pelecanos and David Simon are both gods in my eyes on account of their massive involvement (writer/producer)with 'The Wire.' So, I was interested to see how Pelecanos's latest novel panned out. (I've never read anything by him before.)

And it wasn't at all what I expected.

The story, a crime novel, set in America, has a basic plot, which centres around a family in crisis. Other characters come into play but the plot revolves around the family and in particular, Chris Flynn, a teenage tearaway.

Both that basic plot and minimalist writing style reminded me a lot of the two novels that Linford Barclay has written. (Since Pelecanos has written loads of crime novels, I'm not for one minute suggesting he has copied Barclay or the other way around.)

So, it's very different in style to 'The Wire', with its multitude of scenes in one episode and a barrel full of strong characters.

But there are hints of 'The Wire' in some of the dialogue and the disfunctional backgrounds that so easily turn young men towards crime.

Did I enjoy it? Yes, I did, although there were times when I longed for more to happen. However, I still turned the pages/allowed myself 'just one more chapter' so he's a writer I would read again and recommend - just don't expect the full blast of 'The Wire'.

NEW PEARLS OF WISDOM - SPECIALLY FOR WRITERS

There are three ways to write a novel. The trouble is that nobody knows exactly what they are. Somerset Maughan.

Test Twitter feed

This post should generate a Tweet.

HELP - I HAVE ACUTE BACK PAIN !!!

I've had problems with my back for years but over the last few months it has reached the stage that my back muscles are totally seized up most of the time. Not only is this painful and distressing, but it means that I'm having difficulty writing on my computer.

The problem areas are my neck, shoulders and between my shoulder blades.

I've hardly used my computer over the last month to see if it would make a difference but it hasn't.

I'm actually writing this under the influence of paracetamol and codeine, ibruprofen, and tramadol. Also, I have magnets all the way down either side of my spine, and am wearing a tens machine, neck collar and shoulder brace.

Believe you me, you have to really want to write to be togged up like this.

Also, I sit on a special back-less chair and my key board is raised on a slant.

I'm doing everything I can to strengthen my back: swimming, walking, daily stretches and pilates; I pace myself and give myself plenty of time for relaxation; I go to an osteopath regularly and I don't lift heavy things etc etc. But at the moment all these things aren't enough.

SO, IF YOU HAVE ANY OTHER SUGGESTIONS THAT MAY HELP ME THAT I HAVEN'T MENTIONED, PLEASE LET ME KNOW !!!

The bladder problem was a mere inconvience (pardon the pun) compared with this.

The problem originated from a slightly twisted spine and pelvis and made considerable worse by a chiropractor who over-treated me, including my neck, which I'd never had trouble with before.

Hey-ho. Such is life.

The plan for my writing, therefore, is as follows:-

* I shall concentrate on my second novel Winchester Blues, working for no more than 30 minutes twice a day

* My technical manager i.e.John, will write posts for this blog and the new additions of Facebook and My Space as I dictate to him (lying on a comfy duvee and tickling the dog). Since he has a full time job, this will only be roughly once a week and it may take time to answer comments.

By the way, a big Hi to Dorothy, who has left comments on all three of my sites. Very briefly, I'll reply. Yes, Amsterdam is a beautiful, friendly and interesting city, with a wide variety of small shops along most of the canals. And no, we aren't going to the festival in Mali unless there's a hotel with a balcony right next to the venue!

For those of you who have happened upon this post, let me tempt you with reading some of the many posts already written, including:-

* My first novel Cyprus Bluesin its entirety (it can be read on your computer or downloaded)

* Accounts plus photographs of the Essaouira Gnawa and World Music Festival in Morroco

* A short video of Bob Wisdom (Bunny from The Wire) and myself in conversation at last year's festival

*The Wire, which is the best TV series ever made

*Further TV and film reviews

*Book reviews

*Pearls of wisdom

*6 word memoirs

*Posts about Winchester, where I live, local groups etc

*Posts about the newspaper reports and short stories I've had published

*Posts about the writing process

*and not forgetting my most popular post - my open letter to Van Morrison (who still hasn't replied yet!)

Plus much, much more.

Sadly my 30 minutes is up but can I ask again, if you've any advice about how to help with back/neck/shoulder pain, I'd be very, very grateful.

Cheers!