West Malling - Magical Mystery Tour

Dehydrated after a bit of session the night before with friends previously seen a quarter of a century back, I made my way back on Saturday morning, rather gingerly, from olde Folkestoneium back into the the heart of ancient Cantium stopping briefly in West Malling  for purposes of re-caffination. But not Kings Hill - even I could not bring myself to search out that Durello Spot again. No, no, no. Just thought I'd spend a moment in the High Street and observe the Baldocks clothing emporium where, during the filming of MMT, Ringo bought a few items of groovy gear (and possible the Lennon hat). Then perhaps observe once more the shop front where Ringo bought the MMT ticket from Lennon. Now the Rain Grill (see below)

But wait ! I said wait up there ! What in the name of Boutros Boutros Ghali is going on here ???? A Beatles Weekend ? Yes ! Let excitement be unconstrained ! The MMT coach is making the journey from Newquay to West Malling next week and all local Beatle Nuts and any locals who recall the Fab days in West Malling 45 years ago are to be made very welcome. I'm excited, I'm excited.....

But wait a second. How will this work ? "Hello, I like the Beatles, do you ?".."Yes, I like the Beatles, too.".."Which one did you like best ?".. "Well, they were all good, but my fave was John Lennon..." Awkward silence. "They were great, weren't they ?"   Silence...Maybe, urmmmm...

Here is the view from the MMT Ticket Shop to the Trouser Shop. What the hell is happening to me ? I could be at home with kids...

No wonder the kids hate me...

Help ! It's the Antrobus Hotel

Enough of this introspection already...back to the eponymous boy band.

Long story but stopped at Antrobus Hotet in Amesbury near Stonehenge yesterday as this was the place the Fabs rested for a few days and nights during the filming of the Salisbury Plane scenes in Help ! The receptionist was very helpful in leading me to the bar 'open to non-residents' and when asked in my most cringe-worthy fake innocent tones 'I read somewhere that the Beatles stayed somewhere around here back in the day..." she enthusiastically told me about the 'Beatles Suite' dedicated to the FF available at a very reasonable £110 per night for two including breakfast. All good stuff but the real joy was when she pointed out the well thumbed copy of 'Now Those Days Have Gone' book in the lobby. What the heck is this ? How come a fanatic like me has not heard of Michael Peto and his excellent (truly excellent) record of the Beatles in 1965 ?? It includes many photos of the very hotel I was standing in - I was looking at JL sipping his afternoon tea then looking up from the book to see the very same spot in front of me. Incredible. I though about slipping book into briefcase but resisted and retired to the bar for a small pint of Upham Ale.

This was great end to an otherwise forgettable day. I wished I could have taken a few more shots but did not want to appear a complete freeeeko. Maybe return in a few weeks.

The book is out there somewhere on the Information Super Highway - but very much limited edition - cost about £450.

I hate you Myers-Briggs - Belfast

The thing I most hate about Myers-Brigs is that it's taken as a green light to those normally exhibiting good ol’ British self control to start self-obsessing all over the place.. "I thought I was a non-feeling person but turms out I really do care !" or "Don't mess with me coz I'm an ESTF !"....What ?! What did you say ? Stop right there, I don't give a damm about your stupid letters and stop talking about yourself ! It's deeply, deeply unsettling.

Anyhow, having been appointed recently to the role of Generalist Extrodinaire which comes with the keys to the executive loos, I was mortified upon discovering that the 'higher echelons' (cough, cough) are expected to engage in a focussed programme of self awareness in order that one might become an even greater leader. Gosh and gosh again. What exactly might this programme be ? Surely just a quick speed-read of a few of the latest trendy management books ? "Good to Great and Back Again", "The Allure of Toxic Leaders" (like the sound of that one) etc etc but no ! I've gotta a tree-hug and 'share' with fellow pretentious non-entities that line the corridors of make believe power. God, I hate being in a club that accepts me as a member

So we start with Myers-Briggs. I don’t want to fill in this bloody form of 80 questions that reduces every single human being on the planet into one of 16 personality types. How in the name of Nelly Fertardo could that possibly be ?!. One tick in the wrong box and I could suddenly discover I am a psycho - Go with the flow. Go with the flow. Don’t over reveal, steady as she goes boy. Play the game – remember the executive loo..And so into analysis with my 4 meaningless letters of ESTJ (deep down hoping that my tendency to obsession is not about to be revealed to all) But wait, the more enthusiastic members of the non-entity club have spotted these 4 letters of mine and one complete burke (who has worked with me for a quarter of a century) shouts out – “He’s not an E ! He’s and I”. “What the f** are you dribbling on about ?” say I trying to maintain a passive aggressive level of detachment and the same time inwardly panicking that ‘I’ is bad. At this point the ridiculously overpaid consultant / facilitator starts telling us all we are expected to act as One Team and that we are there to support each other. Bollocks, bollocks. He then turns to me and says “Well, what do you think you are ? An I – introvert, or an E – Extrovert’. So I blurt out “What the hell do you mean !? How dare you insult me with your bloody 4 letter bollocks ! I am obviously an E !! An E !! I am an extrovert !!” Then to my extreme displeasure, the masses start discussing my E/I balance as if I am not there.. “Listen to me ! I spend half my bloody life standing in front of the masses telling about things ! Of course I am an Extrovert “. Then a moment of silence. The consultant turns to me and with a pained expression of sympathy he says “But do you enjoy it ? Is it what you wanted to do ?”. He’s got me on the back foot but I come back fighting.”What the hell has that got to do with the price of eggs ! I do it coz I have to !” It’s weak and I know it. The caring, sharing team then spend the next half an hour trying to coax me out from under my desk. When I finally emerge, I wipe the tears away and sign the form in blood to confirm that, deep dowm, I am an ‘I’.

But there are some upsides. Our ‘One Team’ is sent to Belfast for a tree-hug with our NI cousins. And over a few beers in our hotel (which has the unfortunate record of being the most bombed hotel in Europe) we agree not to discuss Myers-Briggs (for fear of further kafuffle) and so focus on the ever-interesting pub staple topic of ‘My Favourite 3 Songs’. So what’s it going to be ? Do I reveal myself even further to this new set of friends ? “Well,” I start without really thinking this thing through properly “It’s going to be tough because there are about 250 songs to choose from of course..” Raised eyebrows around the table..”I think about this all the time..” Some start to shuffle a little..”but I would have to go with Sexy Sadie, A Day in the Life and err...probably In my Life”. One of them then mumbles “So, you’re a Beatle fan then..?”. Then they spot my Beatle cufflinks, then notice my tie has a pattern of (subtle, I think) little Apples. The person opposite then points out that my socks say Yeah, Yeah, Yeah. As I walk back to my hotel room I swear I hear one of them whisper “I knew he was an 'I'”.
I read that it is important to humour the ISTJ otherwise they are prone to dwell and obsess on memories and past events. Surely not ?

Later, I seek re-assurance from the kids. I tell them about this stupid, stupid thing called Myers-Briggs and that they should never get involved with it coz its like witchcraft. Should not have said that of course as this stirred their interest. The eldest (always least sympathetic) asks for an example of the type of question so I oblige "Well, for example, there is one question which goes like this ..'When you are with friends, do you find you are the one who normally gets the conversation going ?'". The youngest then looks at me and says without intended malice "Which friends are you talking about ?"

The therapy will be long and expensive

Rosebud

Just now the tulips are in bloom all around our little room and the weekend charabancs have started to wind there way around the local country lanes in search of a field in which they can lay out there flotsum and jetsum. Spring is here and the peculiar practice know as Bootfair prevails once more. "Do you Bootfair, Sir ?" "Not in the biblical sense, more of a passive induldger rather than full-on purveyer of crappy, household tosh."

Now I have recently 'shared' that Tracey Beaker (love that girl) can make me weep for no obvious reason other than being a complete wuss. But there is more (no, no stop sharing). Further moments involving unsurpressable tears have surfaced in the past few weeks much to the bemusement (and concern I would have to say) of the kids .. and me. Chuck Berry's "You Never Can Tell", Cecil Day-Lewis's "Walking Away" (don't get me thinking about that playing field again !), and, of course, the kids at the bootfairs offering me their entire collections of pokeman cards (for poke' read also, legions of three inch plastic Jedhi Knights, TY cuddly toys, Fur Real puppies etc etc etc). I honestly want to hand over the contents of my wallet on a promise that they pack thier stuff back away into their neat boxes and put them back under their beds. Kids ! Listen up ! That stuff you're flogging for 50p will cost you 100 times that much in 30 years and..it will not be your stuff ! It will be a pale imitation of that scratched Hot Wheel car that meant so much to you 5 minutes ago.

Now I am completely colour blind but Custom Baracuda (see above) purchased in 1969 was (is) a very peculiar shade of blue (I think). When I see that unusual hue, or hear the Dunanananana Batman theme tune or hear that distant, jangly complicated opening chords to Sexy Sadie (there, got it in) I am errr.....'moved'

The Merry Harriers - Round and Round we go

Epstein drank here - just a short drive south of his auld pile at Warbleton. Satnav crap so ended up driving in circles for an hour and made myself car sick. The half pint of Harvey's and packetnof plain cheered un up.

Chiswick House

The M25, not so much a road..more a way of life. And so it was on Friday mid-afternoon as I reflected on the proportion of the week spent eeking my way around its miserable, endless greyness. Excitement exactly null points and now well into middle age - It just ain't happenning for me Daddy-O. But rather than have a fully fledged breakdown, I weep uncontrollably at Tracey Beaker, buy Captain Beefheart CDs just coz John Lennon had a poster on his wall of 'Milk-is-Good' and career OFF the Superhighway at junction 12 as I suddenly remember I want to visit Chiswick House.

Parking up in Chiswick Mall next to the river at £2 per hour was a bit of a shocker as was walking down Pumping House Lane last visited in ~1986 when it was a wasteland; now nothing but exclusive riverside flats and houses. Was this the spot where Ringo moped about during Hard Day's Night ?

Of course the Beatles' London Book is not to hand - it never, ever is. And so I end up looking like the suspicious shoe-bomber walking up and down every path several times in the rain with a pained expression on visog as I desparetly try to recall the images in said favourite book; but every time I try to recall the pictures by the tree I can only see the images on Fabs at play near St. Pancras on MDO...

But wait..those statues look promising...

And then on to the Conservatory..but wait ! £8 quid a throw for a quick walk around ? Damnation ! There appears to be some sort of flower show going on celebrating the Camillia which probably explains why the average age of the park life was about 98. And so the rest will have to wait. Probably time to go anyway in case some of that clever software that identifies suspicious movements picks me out and I appear on some spook's screen as 'Nutter'

Journey back home - 30 miles and two hours. Ho-bloody-hum

... and I don't like Milk-Is-Good

Knole Park - It was 45 years ago today

Those unfortunate enough to have stumbled across this blog will have quickly concluded that the cannon of Beatles facts and trivia is neither enhanced nor extended in any way by the desultry meanderings contained herein. Indeed a quick scan of these paltry entries reveals Brilig to be a mere follower of others - skipping from one page of the Beatles' London book to another ticking off sites in a haphazard way dwelling only long enough to put the sticker in...whether it be PG Tip cards tracking the History of Aviation or '74 World Cup pictures of Gordon Banks flying through the air, the only real joy was feeling the width of the album as it became engorged with those bloody stickers.

Nevertheless, one tries and so it was that yesterday the jalopy was parked up in the grounds of Knole Park at the ungodly hour of eleven (it was Saturday - give me a break) in order that Brilig should be the first to get a snap of The Tree (Strawberry Fields, Penny Lane etc) on the 45th anniversary of the filiming of the vidoes (?) that accompanied the release of the greatest single of all time (damm you Englebert Humperdick).

So here is That Tree, the nearby ponds, the archway etc etc etc..

This is the walk from The Tree, past the Bird House down towards the ponds. Golfers and walkers alike visibly dismayed (actually, more a look of sheer disdain) by the site of a besuited middle aged man clearly off his bloody trolley.




And here is the walk from the ponds up to the archway.



Postnote : I have just discovered that the actual 45th anniversary is 30/31 Jan. Maybe this explains why there were not hordes of other nuts in the grounds...but I doubt it.

Agghhhhhhhh...Durello Avenue !!!!!

The New Year holiday period would not be the same in the Brilig Household if the annual pilgrimage to Beatles-Places-of-Interest-Within-Shouting were not made. I say 'annual pilgrimage' as if the rest of the clan have an idea of what is going on - I generally find that its better if they don't know our destination as this only causes irritation and things to be thrown around the car (and sometimes out of it, including themselves) and so best to visit some 'other' place and make a detour when they have all nodded-off.

And so off to West Malling with renewed determination and confidence that the hitherto ellusive (to me, at least) alley know as Durello Avenue would be discovered. This being the spot where our eponymous boy band filmed the 'I am the Walrus' sketch (?) for their MMT. Now, I have recalled in an entry exactly one year ago that this spot had caused me much angst (stop thinking about it) but an excellent piece of research by Mr KenwoodLennon some months back renewed my faith in the existence of the place.

So snap away my laddies ! snap away ! And so I did with zzzzz coming from the car, I made my escape in the rain and snapped like a good 'un. Oh the misery of this place...roads leading nowhere, half finished building sites, tut-tuts from the busy bodies..But one very important piece of popular culture cheers up this hapless estate.

But wait.. the clan are stirring..they're looking bemused..oh hell, I can see the teenager (least sympathetic of the Brilig clan) pointing out the roadsign to the rest of them. Then an ear piercing scream from the youngest ..."Aghhhh not Durello Avenue AGAIN... Daddy's brought us to this place again"

A quick stop at Knole Park (SFF tree) was out of the question. I asked the question but it was definitely out of the question.

Happy New Year to all

Everything Must Go-Go

Having splashed-the-cash across several of the kids' favourite ridiculously priced 'boutiques' (can we still use that word) in a post-Christmas mood of who-the-hell-cares-anyway-just-buy-until-the-card-stops-working, I managed to prise the clan away from the SalesFest and plotted a meadering course between Covent Garden and Oxford Street which, surprise ! surprise ! took us past several 'interesting' Beatles Spots (as described in the Beatles' London Book). Perhaps recognising the need to keep the Keeper-of-the-Wallet in a good mood (at least as far as Oxford Street) even they (them, the kids' et al) joined in a little Beatle Fun as we posed with imaginary ice creams bought from the imaginary Kontact Cafe (no. 24 Wardoor Street) and stood outside 27 Wardour Street - the previous home of Garner's restaurant, a Beatles' favourite place. Then next door at no. 29 we gazed tp the second floor where Dezo Hoffmann had his studio. Then top floor at no. 31 where the Beatles had their shirts made...then a quick step to no. 33-37 where the Whisky-A-Gogo stood. Now a very boring O'Neill's themed nightmare of make believe junk. By now the brief 'high' achieved through purchases of £40 t-shirts knocked down to an amazing £37 was wearing off and Beatle Fun was draining away at an alarming rate. But then Oxford Street was within spending distance and off the clan rushed spurred on by dreams of ... whatever....

Annotations to follow

29 Wardour Street - Dezo Hoffmann's Studio on second floor

24 Wardour Street - Kontact Cafe

31 Wardour Street - Star Shirt Makers on top floor

31 Wardour Street - Star Shirt Makers on top floor

33-37 Wardour Street - Flamingo Club

Broadwick Street 'Gentlemans' Club - did not hang around too long

And I found Trident Studios !

Open for tours at 16:30 !

But I have 3 kids in tow ! I will return...

Perhaps I could leave them somewhere for a few hours ????

15 Poland Street - Tony Calder Enterprises

5-6 Argyll Street - Nems Enterprises

363-367 Oxford Street - HMV and now infamous Footlocker

Gaulling - to say the least

On occasions, Herr Brilig gets summoned to places to explain this, that or the other. Ususally the venue is a souless, godless, grey and miserable office on a miserable industrial estate with miserable vending machines dispensing Mars Bars, oversized baps of yesteryear and miserable grey tea - very grey. An office down a side alley of a side street of a road whose sole rasion d'etre is to provide a place to stick a miserable set of offices off that alley, round the bend beyond the burger bar van. And yet life exists there - a career is is being crafted by numbers going up or dashed and destroyed by numbers heading south. Such is life. Ho hum ho hum ho hum ho hum ho hum ho hum ho hum ho hum ho hum.

But what of today ? Shock and awe ! I said shock and awe ! A really big number with a mega pound sign caused the spirits to roll their dice and send Brilig to offices so elevated that the pinstripe was dusted down and I even considered giving the brouges a brush (but didn't) The venue was an infinity office overlooking The Mall and indeed my powerpoint of graphs and numbers and pi charts and ridiculous colours without meaning was presented in the very place where de Gaulle moped about planning his plans. The tea was was tea colour and served in china cups and was accompanied by cake in the afternoon. And stood the clock at ten to three and all was well with the Empire.....

But enough of this already, enough you say. What of the Fabs ? Well, having got up before I went to bed to catch the first train out of Cantium (un-godly 06:15 - two carriages, standing room only and no tea trolley) I arrived in Londinium Central nearly two hours before the meeting and so sauntered without particular aim between The Mall and Pall Mall. Readarzzz of this tripe may have concluded from previous entries that Brilig is not the most organised of fellows and so, true to form, Beatle London book and camera had been left on 'side' next to the biscuit barrel having been placed there night before in semi-inebriated state as I could not possible forget them if I placed them there on the 'side' - the 'side' cannot be missed. Oh crap - I've gotta get a system going coz this memory thing is starting ...starting....yeah ok.

Not to cut a long story short and without AtoZ (didn't even remember to leave that on the 'side') I meandered like a lost soul convinced that Chappel Street was close by (it isn't particularly) and so ended back up in Mason's Yard - boring, went there a few months back. Anyhow, one picture of The Scotch Club which, until a few weeks back, was the Directos' Lodge Club but is now under reconstruction. As it happens, the entrance to this building and, indeed, the nearby Indica Gallery building could have been breached today - the galley appeared open and the building site had an open door. So could have entered both buildings on the same day - but didn't. The powerpoint had not received the raptuous applause it so obviously deserved and so despondency ruled and that train back to Cantium beckoned. Ho hum ho hum hom hum ho hum ho hum hummy ho hum...

The Scotch Club - Builders at Work

Back in the Day - Brilig dancing with Patti - loved that girl