Meet Gabrielle (she has a slightly not-quite-right bottom eyelid) one of our three new chickens. We said that we wouldn’t have a favourite, or even name the new additions to our flock, but she immediately pulled at our heart strings. We collected Gabrielle and her two ginger friends yesterday afternoon from Kirsty in Felstead (our older hens Barbara, Gerry and Margot all came from Hens4Homes, too), and although we rejected the three Black Rocks that had been put aside for collection, we’re glad we changed our minds and went for the more prolific egg layers.
Nik remembers there being Rhode Island Reds (or Rhode Rangers) on his grandparents’ farm when he was a small boy, and so it was always destined to be that we would get them at some point. Friendly, pretty, and seemingly good-natured, they seem to be the perfect choice. Giving them names and becoming attached to them wasn’t part of the plan (so we can be more ruthless when they stop laying) but, because we can tell them apart from one another, it was doomed to failure.
That they’re being picked on only adds to the bonding process. Our older three just don’t like the idea that they have a trio of interlopers in their midst, and are, quite rightly, defending their territory with a series of herding, pecking, and squawking. It’s got to happen, but it’s not fun to watch. We popped them in the Eglu Cube last night when our older three were asleep and they’ve had a tough day. That was telling tonight when we went to close them up; one was in the plastic house with her tail sticking out into the cold dark air, one was perched on the wheel underneath and poor old Gabrielle was sat on top of the Cube itself.
It would appear that they don’t like their older coop mates as much as Barbara, Gerry and Margot don’t like them. I don’t know how long the in-fighting will go on for, but a pecking order will have to be established. It might not be pretty and we’ll have to keep an eye on them at closing up time, but we can’t stop it – it is nature’s way after all.
Remember the bright yellow little Volkswagen that arrived with me last summer? While Polos are obviously the main interest over at PoloDriver, I do have a roving eye for most other Volkswagen models, too. So, last summer, I took a 1.2-litre Fox Urban to the North York Moors for a 1200-mile road test to see if Volkswagen’s city car can do most of what the Polo can do, but for £2000 less. Can the smaller, Brazilian-built town tiddler be a true cut-price Polo alternative? For the answer to this question and more about the global Fox family, read the PoloDriver digital mini-mag (previewed below) here.
As cultural juxtapositions go, there can’t be many like this one. At opposite ends of the London cultural spectrum, we watched Cirque du Soleil at the Royal Albert Hall on Friday night, and visited the ABBA World exhibition at Earl’s Court on Saturday morning. Both full of brightly-coloured costumes, stage acts and singing, only one had acrobatics of the high-wire kind. The other boasted voice acrobatics that have become known the world over as the sound of the Swedish supergroup.
If you don’t know the ABBA story, you’re either very young or have had your head buried in the proverbial sand for the best part of the last four decades. There haven’t been many Eurovision winners that have gone on to mega-stardom and have a legacy both as rich and recognisable as Agnetha’s, Bjorn’s Benny’s and Anni-Frid’s. And it’s just as well it’s a legacy worth celebrating, as, unsurprisingly, that’s what ABBA World is all about. Premiering in the UK, the movable exhibition is, just like the band did, going on a global tour and will end up in Sweden as a more permanent reminder of the Swedish super group. But we got it first.
My fear was that it would be a tacky, glittery and money, money, money-making memorabilia fest, taking away the credit that the post-ABBA Gold and Mamma Mia! years have built up. Yes, there is a fair bit of, let’s call it fun, but the one thing the exhibition does do is remind you of how big the four Swedes were. Led down the stairs in what appears to be Earl’s Court’s basement, 25 themed ‘rooms’ let you enjoy the ABBA story, told by new video reminiscences (even by the ever-elusive Agnetha), endless numbers of gold discs and music industry awards, props, puppets and scene set-ups.
Interactive exhibits lets the visitor test their ABBA knowledge (I was quite good on the ‘Fan’ questions but rubbish on the ‘Fanatic’ ones), mix an ABBA track (compared the original, I was 86% correct and quite pleased), appear in an ABBA video and appear with 3D cartoon-like holograms of their idols. Unfortunate and incorrect Swedish to English translations on the exhibit information panels aside, ABBA World is largely well-done and a diverting and interesting three hours. And even I, an ABBA loyalist, learned new things about the other fab four.
Don’t believe all what you see, though; the helicopter in the ‘Arrival’ section (above) isn’t the one that actually appeared in the stunning 1976 Arrival album cover. But, disappointment aside, that didn’t stop me and several others sitting in it…
To Cirque de Soleil (and to Romani language), Varekai means ‘wherever’. To us, it usually means a brightly-coloured night of spectacle and wonder at the Royal Albert Hall. An ‘acrobatic tribute to the nomadic soul’, it was a Friday night out with Emma and Adobe, and Varekai was by far the best Cirque du Soleil show we’ve yet seen. With a plot based around the mythical story of Icarus who melts his wings after flying too close to the sun, it’s almost a literal translation of this circus troupe’s name.
If you’ve never popped your Cirque du Soleil cherry, the first time you see a show performed by the Canadian (and increasingly global) family of acrobats, artists and singers, you’ll be amazed at the costumes and be taken aback by the low and high-level acrobatic stunts. Varekai features quite an assortment; triple trapeze, Georgian dance, aerial straps, juggling and Russian swings were all on the menu tonight (as was the delicious nibbly food that we had in our box).
Breaking from the acts of daring-do, the clowns have nothing to do with the otherworldly and mystical story (few real-life things do, but it’s escapism for a couple of hours) but almost upstage the more dangerous acts. The magician and assistant duo perform hilarious conjuring tricks, while the bumbling assistant with her hooped dress and big knickers drew laughs aplenty when she kept falling and tripping over, thus exposing her big bloomers to everyone in the RAH’s round.
This year we had a room at the plush Royal Garden Hotel, just a stone’s throw away from the RAH, and it made all the difference. There was no last-minute rush for the Tube, and no crowded, smelly train full of drunken late-night revellers to carry us home to Chelmsford. We walked back along Kensington High Street with Tim and Kim (who also had a room), before saying our goodbyes and retiring for the night. All very civilised, nice, and relaxed.
The sleep was relaxed, too, the large, comfortable bed setting us up for an undisturbed night (the glasses of champagne must have helped, too), meaning that we arrived at breakfast refreshed, ready to look out at the uninterrupted view of London from the tenth-floor restaurant’s huge panoramic windows. It really was an almost stereotypical view; nearly all of the recognisable landmarks were present and correct, glinting in the late-morning sunrise behind Kensington Palace and Gardens. We didn’t hang about, though; we had a busy day ahead of us.
It’s rare that newer versions of old songs improve on the originals. Cover versions invariably dilute the original recording’s concept, and it’s unusual for a band to record a new version of an old song. Saint Etienne did it recently, as elements of Foxbase Alpha were re-recorded for their 2009 Foxbase Beta update, and I found out this week that ABBA have done it too. Recording Spanish versions of a collection of well-known tracks, there are two in particular which I think arguably sound better than their English language counterparts.
It’s all Spotify’s fault. Browsing the (limited) ABBA catalogue, I found a remastered version of 1977’s The Album, with bonus tracks including the Latin American versions of Move On and Thank You For The Music. These are my two favourite songs on that particular album, which I consider their best (alongside 1976’s Arrival), and so good are they that they’ve been on repeat ever since. I don’t know what it is about The Album that captivates me so much; maybe it’s the memories of both that and Arrival being played lots in my childhood (I was four at the time), but captivate me it does.
The two ‘new’ tracks are from Oro: Grandes Éxitos, a US version of Gold: Greatest Hits, released in 1993 (and re-issued in 1999) for the Latin American market, sung entirely in Spanish. This album itself was originally released as Gracias Por La Música in early 1980, the ten tracks on it re-recorded in 1979. I’ve not heard the other songs which make up the compilation, but if they are as good as Al Andar and Gracias Por La Música, then they may too eclipse the English versions. I can’t tell you why I like them so much. Maybe the Spanish lyrics fit the songs’ rhythm better, or maybe it’s just because they’re different versions of such familiar recordings.
Whatever it is, it couldn’t have worked its magic at a more appropriate time. We’re off to see ABBA World tomorrow at Earl’s Court, so for the past couple of days I’ve been listening to ABBA virtually non-stop. Everyone knows the story, the band’s legacy and the music, but there’s something that the music that still sounds fresh, even over 30 years later. I don’t know if the walk around the themed rooms tomorrow will add much to the ABBA story, but it will be interesting to see the costumes and items which played a part. The thing I’m looking forward to seeing the most? The helicopter from the stunning front cover photo shoot of Arrival…
