London 2012 Olympic Games: Days 5 and 6

Breakfast time at the All England Club

Wimbledon + 5 and 6

Wednesday was Sock Monkey’s day off.  Unfortunately Sock Monkey’s jacket is no longer attached to Sock Monkey’s bag.  Sock Monkey’s jacket is somewhere between Clapham Junction and Gipsy Hill.  Or, more likely, eBay.

So I had to schlep over to Canning Town, to the big warehouse where they keep all the uniforms to collect another one.  I thought it would be deserted and although it was nowhere near as busy as the last time I had been there to be kitted out, they were now giving out the uniforms for those working at the Paralympics and also ‘dignitaries’ (I think this was competitors).

Ol' Rubber Nose

I had to fill out a form explaining how I lost my jacket and what I did to find it.  “The jacket became detached from my bag”. “I contacted Southern Trains lost property who did not have it”.  In actual fact, I asked a station assistant at Clapham Junction the day after I became jacket-less if they had a lost property department. She said no, I would have to go to Waterloo.  I thought “Bugger that” and told her I’d rather go to Canning Town for a new one.

There was another volunteer there whose bag had lost its clip and a girl whose spare trousers not only were the wrong size but they had a hole in them too.

Then I went home and did I clean the bathroom as I intended?  No. I sat on the sofa and watched sport for the rest of the day.

Now then.  Wimbledon +6.  One of the. Best. Days. EVER.

Gate 1 for a change.  It is bigger than our usual Gate 10. Sock Monkey’s job was to stand in the middle of the tent, after the spectators had gone through the metal detector and collected their stuff and make sure they didn’t hang around causing a bottleneck.

I loved doing this!  I got to speak to thousands of people.  I had Americans high fiving me, I had 11 Belgians crowding around me (they were actually a bit intimidating) demanding to know how they could get Centre Court tickets (to see Kim Clijsters). 

Them: “Will people swap?”

Sock Monkey: “I have had lots of people disappointed that they are on Centre instead of Court 1 (Andy Murray was on Court number 1. Twice – singles and mixed doubles).  I’m sure people will swap.

Djokovic

Them: “But here are 11 of us!!”

Sock Monkey (now wanting to get rid of them asap: “Well if you’d just like to go through the exit I’m sure you will be able to find 11 people who will swap.”

Tsonga

When I asked people which court they were on I could not believe how many of them said, ruefully “Centre Court. We wanted Court number 1.”  The order of play on Centre Court was absolutely stonking! Federer, Tsonga, Djokovic, Sharapova, Clijsters.  That is like someone asked, “Who would you like tosee today?” then obliged.  Everyone wanted to see Andy though.

I wish I had worn my pedometer because I must have walked about 5 miles.

After another sumptuous lunch (think prison-meets-school lunch) about 7 of us decided to try to get into Centre Court.  Tim & Lynn are very good at blagging and after trying several gangways we found a sympathetic Games Maker who said, “Take your accreditations off, take your watches off we had uniform watches), hid your bags under your seats and if anyone comes and you’re sitting in their seat – move.”  Apparently they way to get in is to say, “Look at all of those empty seats.”  So Tim, Lynn, Angela and I got in and plonked our behinds down for some Gourmet tennis.

The first match had just finished and the next one was Tsonga v Djokovic.  Then people arrived whose seats had our backsides on so we had to move.  I overheard one of the ladies say, “They are sitting in other people’s seats now!” but then I think she realised that we were Games Makers and didn’t seem to mind at all after that.  In fact, when I started to worry that I was going to get really sunburned and after asking my three companions if they had any sunblock she ver kindly let me use her factor 50.  If I had had to have left court I wouldn’t  have got back in. After this was Federer v Isner.  Sock Monkey does not like Federer at all but had never seen ol’ rubber nose before and so this match completed my set of seeing everyone else.  

Maria Sharapova

Kim Clijsters

The final match was Kim Clijsters v Maria Sharapova.  I had never seen Kim either and was really pleased to get into the court as she is retiring after the Olympics (or the US Open – one or the other).  Lynn and Angela left before the start of this match so Tim and I watched the first set then went to sit on The Hill with a pint and watch some more tennis action on the big screen.   

Sock Monkey had never been in Centre Court before so today was splendid thank-you-very-much.

London 2012 Olympic Games: Day 4

Was that a spot of rain? Again.  We can also get ponchos.
Nice, aren't they?

Wimbledon +4

“The Dream Team” as our supervisor, Ruth, calls us were deployed to Gate 1 again today.  Our colleagues for the day was G4 Security again.

Sock Monkey was deployed as a pacer for the first hour (this means getting people through the metal detector swiftly and effectively – with no bunches of queues).  My two G4 tray loaders weren’t exactly the friendliest people ever to the spectators so I tried my best to be as friendly as possible to make up for it.

Yesterday was a bit of a dull day with quite a lot of drizzly extra-wet rain.  When we were rotated round I was put outside to help move the queue around the tents and inside.  This involves sending the people along the line and into the various x-ray/metal detector lanes and preparing them for security.

So….the number of times I said, “Good morning, Welcome to security! Please make sure you have no coins, keys, mobile phones in your pockets.  You will need to remove your jackets, belts and wristwatches.  And no liquids, please.”

Sock Monkey always likes to chat to the spectators so I ask them if they are looking forward to their day, I ask them which court they are on (then I ask them if they know the order of play and if they don’t I tell them), I ask them if they have waited long or where they have travelled from or which player they want to see.

A LOVELY lady gave me a big hug when I told her who was on Centre Court: Venus Williams, Andy Murray, Roddick against Djokovick and Laura Robson V Shapapova.  She got really excited and skipped off.  Unfortunately she was on Court Number 1.  Ooops a daisy but she wold have seen Tsonga involved in the longest tennis match in Olympic history.

I had three nasty people.  An elderly couple had a right moan about the security.  The woman started jumping up and down declaring, “Well I think all of this security is absolutely ridiculous!!!!”  I though she was joking then I realized she wasn’t.  Then her husband stood at the metal detector like a horse refusing a jump.  He moaned that he always set it off.  I thought I was going to have to put my foot on his backside and shove him through.  They were exactly like the people who used to write into ‘Points of View’ with Barry Took and say, “Why, oh why, oh why, oh why, BBC” and sign it off  ‘Disgusted of Tunbridge Wells).  Phone me and I wil let you know exactly how I would like to describe them but not in writing.

Then there was a really horrible man who had a right go at me about the security, it was ridiculous, it was unnecessary, the army were much faster the G4, it takes less time to get into the other venues.  I told him I had been with the army and they were the same and I also said it ws required.  When he started blustering that it wasn’t I just ignored him and asked him to “go through please to my colleague who will get you through.”

The next group of people were much nicer and called the Games Makers “Unsung Heroes”.  They asked me if we get to see any tennis and were making jokes about  being Scottish.

I always like to tell the ladies in the queue that “I’m sorry but you have G4.  If you want to move to Gate 10 you’ll get the Royal Marine Commandos, the Paras and the Navy.”  And if its raining I always say, “I’m sorry about the weather.”

Most people are nice, though.

After we were stood down I went to our beautiful canteen and had a cup of tea whilst a few other people had lunch (I had already had my lunch break – sausages containing God-knows-what).  I was absolutely knackered and couldn’t bear going to East London to get a replacement jacket so two of us had a little wander then went home.  It was raining anyway so there was hardly any play off Centre Court.

I didn’t see any matches but I did see Andy Roddick leaving the practice courts.

However some of my team got to man the VIP security gate and they were saying, “Oh I say so-and-so and so-and-so and him and her…”Hmph.

Day off to day so I went to get a new jacket.

We have decided that we will attempt to collect all the confiscated booze and have a wrap party on ‘The Hill’ and watch the finals on the big screen.

London 2012 Olympic Games: Day 3

Some of the Venue Entry Security Team

Sock Monkey’s not going to say a lot about yesterday.  Sock Monkey didn’t have a lovely time.  It absolutely poured down.  It was like a biblical plague.  Play was suspended until God-knows-when.  I was again with the Royal Marine Commandos, The Paras and The Navy. We has Venue and Serena Williams' mum in our area.  Someone else had Bill Gates in theirs.  Lots of volunteers were kicked out of the staff meal area because Michelle Obama turned up.

8.30 this morning.  A nice cup of tea before the gates opened

My goodness the  military personnel on my lane were grumpy.  They were in charge yesterday and didn’t they let you know it.  “Faster!” “Slower” “Tell them to take their belts off!!!!”  Me: “I did.”  I got home to Sock Monkey Mansions last night pissed off, annoyed and upset.  If today had been like yesterday there wouldn’t have been a tomorrow as Sock Monkey a Games Maker.  Sock Monkey didn’t volunteer my summer holidays UNPAID to be moaned at for 3 solid hours by the army.  If I had I would have joined up years ago.

A lot of the military have ad their leave cancelled to cover G4 Security’s fuck up but it isn’t my fault. I talked to a nice female squaddie at lunch who was just about to be deployed to Afghanistan so they really could do with being at home.

Some of the ticket holders weren’t having a nice time either.  It was BUCKETING and freezing cold.  I had one stroppy Kevin the Teenager type who became all arsey when I asked, “Do you have any liquids in your bag?”  Its airport security to get into all of the venues and he had about 6 x 500ml bottles of water in his bag. He had a massive strop then still tried to get through the metal detector with a bottle of lucozade in his sweaty, teenage paw.

This is how busy we are.  At Gate 10 Wimbledon, my home for yesterday, we cleared 3,000 people through security in 12 minutes.  I doubted that was possible in the laws of physics but that’s what my supervisor said.

Venus Williams

Anyway.  Today was fantastic!  We were amalgamated with another security tea, and were sent to Gate 1.  They had had a bit of a nightmare the day before but apparently we are the Dream Team and we got them all in.  Today I was doing ‘pacing’ with G4S.  That means I get people through the metal detectors asap.  Four and a half hours later, at 1pm,  I was on my lunch break with another girl after we were “Stood Down” for the rest of the day.  Hideous lunch (food is so vile I have lost 2 lbs in 3 days *thimbs up*) followed by free tennis!  Hooray!

Elena Baltacha

We went to see Venus Williams on Court 2. It was so sweet, she said she has never seen live tennis until today.  Then we bumped into another of our team and we went to see Heather Watson on Court 17 (she beat a Spanish player called Soler).  Then we wandered to Court 18 (we weren't actually IN Court 18, we were on the balcony because it was P.A.C.K.E.D after Laura Robson’s match). American readers, these are our Team GB Ladies.  We left after Elena Baltacha (Team GB but actually a Scot/Russian mix) had lost the first set.

The weather was glorious today, the spectators were smiley happy and today was good.

Shame I lost my jacket on the way home (it folds up like a kagoule and clips onto your bag and mine kept dropping off.  I think it is somewhere around Clapham Junction so now I have to schlep back to Canning Town to get another on my day off on Wednesday.  Hope it doesn’t rain or is cold tomorrow because I’ll have an uncomfortable day that’s for sure).

One lady said to me, "Its so organised. Everyone is so friendly.  I'm going to tell the BBC!"  Another lady told me, "I was at the Sydney Olympics and this is better!"

More tennis, Sock Monkey?  Oh yes please!

London 2012 – GET IN!

I really need to figure how to rotate images in Blogger...

London 2012 Olympic Games: Day 1

Sock Monkey’s first day as a London 2012 Games Maker!  Dragging my carcass out of bed at 6am on a Saturday was fun. Sock Monkey normally gets up at 8am.

Venue Entry Security

After attiring myself in the lovely uniform and shoving some bran flakes down my gullet I popped into the local caff at the end of my road for a take away cup of tea where the man who works there almost had his eyes popping out at the sight of me.  A pretty easy journey to Wimbledon and an hour later I was standing in a nice long queue to get into ‘Fort Apache’ to go through security screening. 

I bumped into two of my team and we wandered over to the rendezvous spot where our the head high honcho security lady was having a briefing with the team leaders.  She told us to go and have a cup of tea and come back later.

On my way into Fort Apache I could see Court 18 which was being strimmed and then we spotted Centre Court on the big screen.  This was being mowed half an hour before the gates opened!  And the masses of dancers were being given their final instructions, the last of which was “Sit down and pretend to be a member of the public so we could only assume they were some sort of flash mob.

Being the first day it was all somewhat random.  We had only really just been allocated our Team Leaders and were having our first briefing when the announcement “Open the gates” came over the tannoy.  Loud and clear!  We were at the opposite end of the grounds from Gate 10 (our new home for the next 4 hours).  Our job is to get people through the gates!

 

Our Pack Leader, Ruth, said that we would be winging it today as it was day 1 but our main objective was to “Get them all in as soon as possible so we can all go and watch some tennis.”  Like it!

Sock Monkey stood at the x-ray machine for, “Good morning.  How are you? Make sure you have nothing in your pockets” four hours.  We were accompanied by Royal Marine Commandoes, the Parachute Regement and the Navy.  We felt very save with the big burly squaddies.  One of them asked me why on earth anyone would want to volunteer to do this.

Some of the general public were stu-pid.  Like the woman who proceeded to take Every. Single. Thing. Out of her bag and dump it in the tray.  And the man who, just as he was about to walk through the metal detector asked me if having his wallet and mobile phone in his pocket was OK.

Delicious!  Its all that was left

Once everyone had arrived, eventually – God there were thousands of them – we had our lunch break.  We were taken into the bowels of the building next to Centre Court.  Down a ramp by the side of the building, past the bins, through a delightful access tunnel to the Ball Boy rest room.  Where they had no hot food left.  We decided to decamp and go to the main restaurant only to be told that secturity (ie US) weren’t allowed to ‘dine’ in there.  We traipsed back to the tunnel for some slops and were told that we had been ‘Stood down’.  Hooray! Free tennis for us!

David Ferer

Andy Murray (a bit sideways)

Four of us went to Court 18 and saw David Ferrer and Felipop Lopaz beat some Poles.  Then we went to Court 2 to see the end of Li Na and Hutchenova’s match before Andy and Jamie Murray’s doubles match agaist Jurgen Metzer and his partner.  Towards the end of the first set all the volunteers (in uniform) were kicked out for the paying punters so I had to leave.  My three new friends had changed their tops so they could stay. Guess what Sock Monkey s shoving in the bag tomorrow a change of t-shirt.

I got back home (someone standing outside my flats “Are you in the Olympics?” duh can’t you seeeee what I’m wearing?) and watched the Murray brothers lose.

 

Today was fun!  Brilliant atmosphere and I don’t even mind walking around in public wearing my uniform. 

London 2012 Olympic Games: at T-Minus 7 Days

Sock Monkey had a little trip to The All England Club last Saturday.  Also known as 'The Championships".  Better known as Wimbledon.


I was there to carry out my Venue Specific Training because Sock Monkey will be part of the security team at the tennis competition at the Olympics.

Once I eventually found the mythical Gate 20 (it said "Car Park" on entrance) I went through the security checks (in what they have nicknamed "Fort Apache") and was directed to a hospitality suite above Centre Court.  There were hundreds of us.


After a cup of tea and a biscuit we were shown the inspiring film they have shown us at every training event.  It still brings a lump to the throat.  Then we were addressed by the general manager, Kelly and the sports manager Clare.  They told us about how they have fixed the grass so quickly after The Championships a mere 3 weeks ago, they told us Olympic Tennis facts (such as the last winner of the mixed doubles was a survivor from the Titanic - its that long since mixed doubles were played at the Olympics).  They also told us how every bit of internal communications has had to be ripped out and replaced so that it is the same as the other venues. We were also given a map and shown where the staff restaurant is, the entrance gates and where we have to send people if, God forbid, the place has to be evacuated, the security announcements (I'm saying nothing about those). Then we had our guided tour.  The place was crawling with soldiers and sniffer dogs.

                  My superviser, Clare above (left)


The first place they took us to was Centre Court.  Sock Monkey has never been to Centre Court before so naturally I was thrilled.  "Don't touch the grass!"  We were that close.  They took us there first because we don't have access to the field of play and were told, "We knew you'd want to sneak in".


The grounds were in full flow of being transformed from The Championships to the Olympic Games with the Olympic livery everywhere and the Rolex clocks all covered up.  Rolex doesn't sponsor the Olympic Games.  You can't buy Pimms at the Olympics because they aren't a sponsor either.  You can buy a 'Fruit Cup' though...


We walked all around the ground twice, being shown everything we need to know.  Sock Monkey has been to Wimbledon three times before so it was funny to see the place empty apart from staff, army and volunteers.

      








It was a brilliant way to spend a Saturday afternoon and I got really enthused and excited.  This was the first time.  For the last few months I've been thinking that volunteering was a stupid idea.


On my way home I actually felt a bit proud to be wearing my accreditation (ie security pass - I wouldn't have got into the grounds without it).


So Saturday 28 July 2012 (tomorrow!) I shall be meeting and greeting the spectators.  Need to leave home two hours before a Sock Monkey normally arises so that will be fun!  


Game, set and Match!

London 2012 Olympic Games: T minus 27 Days

Sock Monkey has been selected as a "London 2012 Games Maker", ie volunteer.  Reach for your life jacket and safety net now because Sock Money will be representing The United Kingdom and how fantastic we are.  Sock Monkey will be checking tickets and saying, "You can't take that in" for a week at Wimbledon.

Sock Monkey spent an hour and a half yesterday collecting the [charming] uniform.  Over the last few weeks I've seen various people wearing this in public and every single one of them has looked like they are on day release from the local lunatic asylum.  I half expected Donald Sutherland to be bringing up the rear shouting, "The Evil has left this place!" so I was extremely relieved to find that I don't look like a total retard in my uniform (although I refuse to wear that hideous jacket or the baseball cap). 

Sock Monkey never posts photographs on here so this is a first.  Sock Monkey may still hit 'delete' at a later date. Picture caption 'Sock Monkey modeling London 2012 Games Maker Uniform'.  We got socks and everything...

However, when I saw scores of people in the same place, all dressed the same (ie like that *points to top left hand corner*) it was pretty impressive and a little bit exciting.  And I chatted to lots of lovely people who were all so motivated and enthusiastic.  Sock Money would also like to point out that none of us are thrilled with the uniform.

Almost 250,000 people volunteered to help and Sock Monkey was one of the 70,000 chosen so, and I am beginning to think it may have been a bad idea, I shall be spending my summer holidays telling tourists where the toilets are and searching people's bags at Wimbledon.

Sock Monkey loves tennis so I'm pretty disappointed to find that I don't have security clearance for the actual courts but I will be able to wander around the grounds (dressed like this) when I'm not on duty.

I've had a couple of training sessions and now have just one left where I will be taught how to carry out the security checks - its the same as at an airport .  This takes place at the All England Club (AKA Wimbledon) soon.

We have to be "The best Games Makes we can be" so that means being consistently nice to complete strangers even if they ask idiotic questions or are obnoxious.  If we aren't, people will go home to wherever and tell their friends, "People in London are horrible."  Sock Monkey could single-handedly screw up the entire Olympic Games!

The most exciting part, though, and I really am very excited about this, is that we have all been invited to the technical rehearsal for the opening ceremony. I am so looking forward to this and its lovely that the volunteers have been given the opportunity to attend.

Sock Monkey shall report from the Olympics but don't expect any insider information or gossip about the competitors.  It aint allowed and I don't want to end up in The Tower.

New Boots (but not panties)

Look!

Look what Sock Monkey has found!

A betting shop has come up with an ingenious way to get themselves extry publicity by marking the start of the Cheltenham Festival by commissioning what they charmingly call "Horse Hoof Boots".

Retailing at £1,300 - yes that's THIRTEEN HUNDRED QUID - they are a limited edition (well I never) with proceeds going to charity. They also have models clip-clopping around the racecourse grounds wearing said footwear.

They are made out of real horse hair but have pretend hoof. Personally Sock Monkey thinks it would have been far less faff to just saw off the horses legs, scoop out the juice and stick a pair of high heels on them.

I'd wear them. I'd love to get a pair! I used to have a pair of spotted pony skin shoes. Oh I loved those shoes! If I had a pair of Horse Hoof Boots I'd trip-trip-trip around like a Billygoats Gruff or pretend to be Mr Tumnus when I'm at the shops. Unfortunately I cannot have a pair because:

a) Sock Monkey can't walk in high heels. I look like a drag queen. Not a proper drag queen you understand because they can walk in heels. I mean drag a la Jack Lemmon and Tony Curtis in Some Like it Hot.

b) Sock Monkey has been given strict instructions not to buy a pair. Sternly written. In capital letters.

c) Thirteen hundred quid. Come off it. If I had thirteen hundred quid to chuck away on a pair of boots I'd be going to India on me 'olidays like what I wanted to do

Dirty Chicken

Oh for crying out loud.

Sock Monkey has spotted a new Dirty Chicken shop in my high street. Why on earth would any area need three and a half Dirty Chicken emporiums in a street which is only about 150 metres long??? (NB its three and a half Dirty Chicken shops because one is really a kebab shop but it also deals dirty chicken).

For non-British people (ie The Americans who read this) Dirty Chicken is matter which you would only ever consider eating if you are very, very drunk. It consists of chicken which you just know looked like this one (points right), grease, fried fat and probably some 'special seasoning'. And of course french fries. You can usually get spare ribs too. And apple pie which looks, frankly, dangerous. Drunk people should be prohibited from purchasing something with contents similar to that of a Pop Tart and just as scalding. Burns units up and down the country would no doubt agree with me.

Because drunk people are also stupid people, these places are usually called 'Texas Fried Chicken' or 'Tennessee Fried Chicken' or 'Maryland Fried Chicken' or named after A.N.Other State in America because its almost the same as Kentucky. I would prefer to see them named after their local area. Like 'Penge Fried Chicken' or 'Camden Cock' or something.


And they are always staffed by poor buggers who can't get a job anywhere else and generally can't really speak English very well and have to suffer night after night of drunken abuse from idiots.











However, The 'good' thing about Dirty Chicken is that it has a dual purpose.

Usage number 1: to soak up all the booze you have consumed
Usage number 2: it makes an excellent breakfast! The only thing you want to eat the day after the night before is greasy, calorific crap. And that's the perfect description of Dirty Chicken. Cold chips and deep fried chicken skin. Mmmmmmmm

Unfortunately there is a downside. There is no gain without pain.

Firstly there is the calorific horror which is beer. Combine this with the hideous calorie count of a Jubilee Meal Number 2 or a Chicken & Ribs Special Combo or whatever = big, fat belly. Think a Muffin Top but made out of salmonella-laden fowl.

Just a Friendly Little Cat (as the song goes)

Sock Monkey was actually stunned into slack jawed horror on Friday evening.

I was on my way home, sitting on the train minding my own business, looking forward to an evening of sitting on my behind and doing sod all after a week of doing pretty much the same thing during the day.

Sitting opposite me were two guys who I shall refer to as 'The World's Most Boring Couple'. They started talking about bread. Yes, Bread. Thankfully they had normal accents and not a Ken Livingstone-type of accent. That would have made me burst out laughing. Non-London people, Ken Livingstone, the ex-mayor of London sounds like Henry's Cat.

Boring Gay Man Wearing Glasses No. 1
"I had a lovely sandwich. It was chicken and pesto."

Boring Gay Man Wearing Glasses No. 2
"Ooh that sounds nice."

Boring Gay Man Wearing Glasses No. 1
"It was. And the bread was very moist. It kept the bread moist. Sometimes bread is dry but this was moist."

Boring Gay Man Wearing Glasses No. 2
"Bread isn't dry. You don't get dry bread."

Boring Gay Man Wearing Glasses No 1 appeared to demur at this point but didn't reply. Then Boring Gay Man Wearing Glasses No 2 started reading bits of crap out from the London Evening Standard. Have I ever mentioned that I would not use this rag as a toilet paper substitute due to its right-wing Daily Mail-esque slant? In fact I'd rather crap in my hands.

Anyway, so I've already learned about bread and the fact that it may or may not be dry, and now I'm learning crap from the Evening Standard. Just when I thought please someone rip off my ears the female person (female person as opposed to 'lady' because she certainly was not a lady. Actually 'slut' is probably a more accurate description), so 'The Slut' sitting behind me answered her mobile phone and this is the delightful conversation the entire carriage was subjected to: (actually it was only half a conversation because we couldn't hear the person at the other end of the phone. Thank God.)

Why are you phonin' me on my phone?
Why you phonin' me? Get off my phone.
Get your fax right. Get your fax right when you speak to me. Get off my phone.
I done sell m'pussy. I done sell m'pussy get your fax right.

- at this point Boring Gay Man Wearing Glasses no. 2 and I look up and catch each other's eyes. And we both are sporting a look of abject horror. The conversation continues, but even louder than before:

I done! sell m'pussy. An you had that abortion for Chad right.
I done need to sell m'pussy 'cause everyone wans it anyway.


We had 3 stations-worth of a conversation which was definitely not about a cat; all the way from Streatham Hill to Crystal Palace, where I got off the train. As I was leaving the carriage I could still hear her muttering to herself, "m'pussy, m'pussy" whilst huffing in indignation.

I would have much rather listened to more facts about bread whilst someone else was on the phone shouting, "Yes. Yes dear. I'm on the train. ON THE TRAIN! I'll be home in 10 minutes."

If the conversation had been about a cat, though, I think it would have looked like this।

And as I mentioned in the title here is a song about a Friendly Little Cat

A Year of Performances: The 2010 Theatre Round Up

I thought I'd do a little round up of the things Sock Monkey went to see in 2010. Hold onto your hats, make a cup of tea and a grab a biscuit as this if going to be one long old post. So here we go in no particular order:

Darker Shores at the Hampstead Theatre. This play was a sort of Victorian Ghost story. It wasn't bad but it wasn't the best thing I have ever seen. However on the plus side, I'd never been to this theatre before and I thought it was a really lovely little place.


Miss Hope Springs - Recovering Showgirl at the Drill Hall. Fab, Fab, Fab. Ty Jeffries' creation, Miss Hope, is in the best washed-out, has-been cabaret singer style. Lionel Jeffries' son, he has some amazing stories from his childhood when his dad would bring his showbiz buddies home. And Ty has a fantastic voice.

A totally different style of cabaret was from Taylor Mac at one of my favey places, the Soho Theatre. I bloomin' love the Soho Theatre. Taylor Mac is a teeny weeny bit difficult to describe but look at the photo of him and trust me when I say he was A-ma-zing.

Also at the Soho Theatre was A Life in Three Acts. In this show Mark Ravenhill 'interviews' the legendary actor/actress Bette Bourne. I put the word interviews in inverted commas because although Mark did indeed interview Bette, the show was a re-enactment of the original interview which had been rewritten and polished up. Bette has had a fascinating life. Like Forest Gump finding himself present at every landmark event in 20th century history, Bette has been involved in every landmark event in the 20th century history of the gay movement.

Soho Theatre again saw me attending Re-Orientations which I can categorically say is one of the best plays I have ever seen in my life. In fact I enjoyed it so much I saw it again two days later. Theatre group, Border Crossings, present this multi-media performance which uses video, music and dialogue in several languages. It tells the stories of several people who find themselves in Shanghai: two actors on tour who are questioning the state of their marriage, a father looking for his missing daughter who is eventually joined by his ex-wife who runs a charity in the area, a young rent boy, a fisherman. All these stories take place in the aftermath of the Boxing Day Tsunami of 2004. Visually stunning and hugely creative I immediately thought of Robert Lepage who, if you have read any of my other posts, you will know if my favourite theatre director in the world. Then I read the programme and found that one of the actors has collaborated with Robert Lepage on a lot of shows.

I also went to see this thing called Align at the Bridewell Theatre. Oh. My. God. It. Was. Long. It was a lecture about Leylines in London which I thought would be right up my alley. In actual fact I was bored out of my skull and can't actually remember much about it as my brain appeared to switch off after about 20 minutes.

P also got tickets for Blood Brothers which I disliked beyond words. Thank God we got the tickets through The Audience Club so they were only 2 quid.

Something else I saw twice was Ghost Stories. First at the Lyric, Hammersmith where it opened then again at The Duchess when it transferred to the West End. I didn't see it twice because it was a spectacular performance. I actually went twice because P was too scared to see it the first time because she believed all the publicity about it being the scariest play ever. I can't understand the people in the trailer who are screaming their heads off. I didn't jump even once. Its a good play and its clever but its hardly the scariest thing in the world ever, ever, ever, ever. The house I grew up in was a lot scarier than this play. Mind you the house I grew up in is haunted and that deserves a whole post all to itself.

Talking of haunted, David and I went to a 'seance' at the
Last Tuesday Society. We met at the Blind Beggar for extry creepiness (American readers please note that the Krays and their henchmen murdered someone in this notorious East End Boozer). After a couple of drinks we wandered up there. The Last Tuesday Society is creepy enough during the day but in darkness its even worse. The LTS hold some of their events at Viktor Wynd's Little Shop of Horrors. In this shop (which reeks of formaldehyde and that P described visiting as the most disturbing experience of her life ) you can buy pickled two headed babies, shrunken heads, stuffed birds and animals and all manner of things in a similar vein. Actually I was really disappointed when David pointed out that the two headed baby wasn't real. Harrumph. After hanging around in the shop waiting for the previous sitting to finish (Derren Brown was there) we were shown into a pitch dark room, told to say our names out loud and to hold hands then the guy running the thing told us that we were trying to get in touch with a woman called Marie. It wasn't a real seance! It was a sort of performance thing. I had TWO disappointments in the same evening. First the fake two headed baby then a fake seance! Pfff. If you want to see real two headed babies or pickled Siamese twins you need to go to the Royal College of Surgeons' museum. They have the real McCoy there.

We went to a gig at the Jazz Cafe called The Next Big Thing. Its held every year (I think its sponsored by NME or the BBC or something) and they showcase the latest up and coming recording artists. I wanted to go because I wanted to see Cate Le Bon who I saw at Latitude Festival a couple of years ago. She was OK but the find of the evening was Lissie. When she performed this I knew I had to get hold of a copy of her EP the next day (she hadn't released an album yet). She is fantastic! And in the last year has toured the UK extensively, been on the radio loads and has even been on Jools Holland's Later.

I also saw Noisettes at the Roundhouse and Grace Jones at the Royal Abert Hall. Noisettes were great and Grace Jones wasn't half as mental as when David and I saw her the previous year. I doubt they stand for any nonsense at the RAH.

We also saw Elegies for Angels, Punks and Raging Queens at the Shaw Theatre. It was a show about various characters who had died of AIDS and they were telling their individual stories. I didn't really like it very much. It was a good idea but it really felt like something which had been written 20 years ago when people were a lot less informed. There had been a couple of stories added to bring bring it up to date (like the escort who became infected by people he met on the internet) but I thought that the play hadn't aged well.

Much more fun was seeing Hairspray at the LLGFF. I haven't seen anything at the film festival for a couple of years but when I saw that not only were they screening this, the original and best John Waters version they were also having Actionettes! perform before the screening (they shook their Tail Feathers) tickets were purr-chased. Well you couldn't not go! I've never seen Hairspray at the cinema. The LLGFF has such a good atmosphere and the when Divine appeared on screen for the first time the whole audience cheered and whistled. And we all sang along with the songs.

We were actually supposed to go to Actionettes! Decade a Go-Go at the 100 Club but P was ill, I couldn't think of anyone else who I wanted to go with and I was on the verge of going on my own but in the end I couldn't be arsed schlepping to the West End on a Saturday night.

We also didn't bother going to Big Brother's Eviction Night because:
a) Boreham Wood is miles away and b) there was no eviction that week.

Also non-attendance occurred at the Natalie Merchant concert. We have now decided that there is no point whatsoever in buying tickets for anything that is on on a Saturday night because we end up saying. "can you be bothered going out tonight?" and staying in.

VERY annoyingly there was something I wanted to go to but couldn't go to. Marc Almond was at the (horrible) Shepherd's Bush Empire in December but it snowed. Non-London people, when it snows here the entire place comes to a pathetic, grinding halt for days. However on a happier note this means that I get two free days off work every year.

Didn't go to Friday Night Freakshow at Udderbelly but there was a good reason for that. I was made redundant the previous day and my friends from work took me to the pub and funneled beer and wine down my throat so the very idea of going out the next night really did not appeal to me as much as going straight home and lying on the sofa.

Yes, Udderbelly is a theatre inside giant, purple upside down cow. What else would it be?

However we did see Tina C at Udderbelly which of course was an evening of wonderful songs, "I Validate You" and ended with the audience line dancing.




The Docklands Museum shows films every month and in honour of it being a full moon they screened An American Warewolf in London. They had appropriately named drinks, hotdogs, popcorn and 1970's childrens' sweets. Before the film started you could wander around the museum where they had some of the curators telling you all about various exhibits.

I also saw a very good Japanese film called Still Walking. Synopsis: 'Still Walking is a family drama about grown children visiting their elderly parents, which unfolds over one summer day. The aging parents have lived in the family home for decades. Their son and daughter return for a rare family reunion, bringing their own families with them. They have gathered to commemorate the tragic death of the eldest son, who drowned in an accident fifteen years ago. Although the roomy house is as comforting and unchanging as the mother's homemade feast, everyone in the family has subtly changed'. And I saw Sex and Drugs and Rock and Roll which was wasn't that good.

We also went to see some ballet. Les Ballets De Trockadero de Monte Carlo at the Peacock Theatre were, as they always are, most amusing. And of course they performed the Dying Swan.


Over at the Barbican I saw Ursula Martinez in her new show, "My Stories Your Emails" in which she tells stories about herself and also reads out some quite bizarre emails people have sent her over the years. And at the end she treats us to a performance of her infamous act 'Hanky Panky'

Duchess Theatre brought us The Secret of Sherlock Holmes which just wasn't good enough. Thats another one I'm glad only cost us 2 quid. Also I'm only 5 foot 4 and there was nowhere near enough legroom even for me.

Cirque de Soleil performed Varekai at the Royal Albert Hall. That was good even if it was pretty spendy.

For non-London people you may not know that there is a tradition of old boozers having theatres in them so with that in mind and killing two birds with one stone we saw the following plays in a pub:

The Roses of Whitechapel was on at the Lion and Unicorn in Kentish Town. This was about Jack the Ripper's Victims told through their words. That was another 2 quid ticket and it was quite good. The play was more about the women and their lives rather than a whodunnit? and all of the actresses were extremely good. I did like the last bit where each of the actresses stepped forward individually and said the name of the victim they played eg, "My name is Polly Nichols" etc. When they had all finished they turned to the actor playing Jack the Ripper and said, "Who are you?" That pub is a bit of a dump though with flea-bitten dogs lying all over the chairs.

Showing at The New Red Lion on City Road was a play which is in my top 2 favourites of 2010. This is a genius play. So intelligently written and wonderfully performed. It is the story of Scaramouche Jones, a 99 year old clown who, following his last ever performance on New Year's Eve 1999 (which is also the eve of his 100th birthday) tells the incredible story of his life which includes being orphaned, kidnapped, taken all over the Middle East, being sold to a snake charmer, imprisoned in a concentration camp and finally ending up working as a clown at the circus. This was also a one man show with the actor onstage for about 2 hours reciting a monologue whilst imitating every character's voice and mannerisms.

And finally...we spent a lovely day at Wimbledon. I was allocated tickets for Court No. 2 on the first Thursday of the championships. P had never been before so she was v excited. We saw Tsonga, and Serana Williams play, watched Murray on the Big Screen whilst having a picnic and sipping champagne. Then we had a Pimms-fest. We met Richard Williams, applauded Mahut & Isner as they crawled off court, saw John McEnroe, Andrew Castle, Clare Balding, Virginia Wade, Heather Watson and Laura Robson signed my programme. And the Queen was there.

Its only 14 February and so far I have been to see 2 films, 3 theatre shows, 2 drag shows, one exhibition and tonight I'm off to another drag show. Life is a cabaret.