1976 and all that

I don't have much experience of posh work dos. In the past, a night out with work colleagues meant meeting at the pub for a few pints, and any stragglers still standing at the end might go for a late-night curry.  

So it was a surprise to have the opportunity to attend a ball on Saturday night, organised by St Luke's for its employees and patrons. 

1970s maxi dress and sequin clutch bag - gifts from Helga

Ostrich feather bolero - gift from Tania 

Sandals, vintage necklace and bangles - charity shopped

The dress code was either black tie or pirate fancy dress (no, I'm not entirely sure why either...) and as you can see, I decided to forgo the dubious delights of an eye patch and parrot as accessories. 1970s-does-30s glamour all the way for me!

The retail team were celebrating the fact the St Luke's shops have won an Outstanding Achievement in Profit award from the Charity Retail Association.

Sorry, no photos from the event itself, but I can tell you that Johnny Depp as Jack Sparrow in the Pirates of the Caribbean films is clearly the inspiration for pirate fancy dress these days. (And it doesn't look quite as alluring on most men as it does on him...) 

I spotted this 1970s block-printed Indian cotton dress in a charity shop for a pittance, and although it was originally intended for sale on Ebay, I am considering keeping it. 

The colours and the hand-painted gold details are so pretty. 

And speaking of the Seventies, I also found this;

a dressmaking guide based on a 1976 BBC TV series.

I love the illustrations, even if the proportions are ridiculously elongated.

  

If only my legs were that long, I'd look far better in trousers. 

 

1970s Indian cotton dress, 1970s leather bag and belt - charity shopped

1980s Finnish-made boots - Second to None, Walsall 

Charlie and a pumpkin - free

 1976. 

What were you up to that year?

I was 12, I was in my final year of middle school, and the UK experienced a famously hot and dry summer. I remember Harold Wilson resigning as Prime Minister, I watched Nadia Comeneci score perfect 10s at the Olympics in Montreal, and the music in the charts was a curious blend of the sublime and the ridiculous. 

 Abba, Queen, Rod Stewart, Barry White, ELO and Tina Charles.

The early days of both disco and punk.

Dreadful novelty records.

The inexplicable success of the Bay City Rollers, Slik, Demis Roussos and Showaddywaddy.

And some real classics - Jolene, Young hearts run free, Play that funky music, Misty Blue, Let's stick together, and The boys are back in town. 

My 12 year old self would probably have picked Don't go breaking my heart or Dancing Queen. 

The 51 year old version is going with the heart-breaking majesty of No Regrets by the Walker Brothers.

Linking to Patti's Visible Monday. I never have any regrets about that!

xxxx

     

I was an impossible case

What do you remember about being thirteen?

Claudia's 13th birthday has prompted me to try and remember what it was like when I was her age; I have to admit, it's all a bit hazy. Who was I then?

A glance at the UK's Number 1 songs of that year was helpful in jogging my memory.

1977.

The year God Save the Queen by the Sex Pistols was banned by the BBC and allegedly (maybe apocryphally) kept off the No. 1 spot, for fear of offending the Royal Family in the year of the Queen's Silver Jubilee.

You wouldn't know it was the year of punk, the songs that made the top of the UK charts were pop through and through. Abba and David Soul reigned, Elvis died, and I Feel Love sounded like a trance-y soundtrack to some sci-fi porn film.

There were strikes, the Yorkshire Ripper murders, Red Rum and Virginia Wade won, Marc Bolan died, the National Front and anti-Nazi protesters clashed, and Rumours and Star Wars were released.

1970s maxi dress - The Queen's Drawers via local vintage shop
Wrap cardigan - gift from Tania
Ankle boots - Ebay
Beret and bangles - charity shopped

Claudia invited some friends out for dinner to celebrate her birthday.

Off we go!

They're a cool bunch of kids. Don't believe everything you hear about teenagers, some of them are just fine - polite, funny, and sweet.

They're nothing like the 13 year old me. They aren't awkward or ill-at-ease in their own skin; they have style and confidence, and a sense of belonging. I'm really glad about that, and wish it hadn't taken me so long to find those things for myself.

I don't have any photos of me from 1977. If there are any, they'll be lurking in a drawer at my mum's, which is probably the best place for them. I remember a centre parting and limp side-flicks, checked shirts, skinny fit t-shirts, flared jeans, and wedge shoes. A humdrum uniform, accessorised by shyness, social ineptitude and poor self-esteem.

I had an endlessly supportive and encouraging mum who repeatedly told me that I was unique, and uniquely great. I just thought she had to say that because she was my mum, so it didn't count. I wish I had believed her, and I hope Claudia believes me when I tell her what's great about her. I found being thirteen really tricky; she seems to be approaching her teens with an enviable insouciance.

Good for her.

Oh Charlie!

Claudia made her own birthday cake, with the help of one of her friends - it was delicious.

So what was it like for you, being 13?

 

And share your memories of 1977, if you have any!

 

xxx

          

Same as it ever was

Time. Where the bloody hell does it go?

I had great fun catching up with Patsy at the weekend, but failed to take any proper photos, apart from one or two in Matlock, including this one.

And I was round at Joanne's with the girls on Sunday night, but it's probably just as well I didn't take any pics then either. I laughed so much, I cried all my mascara off, which was not a pretty sight.

The kids are on holiday this week, and we have no particular schedule, which is lovely. 

Having wardrobe favourites is also lovely, and this outfit is comprised of a few of mine.

Denim jackets, maxis, berets, boots, a variety of bangles, plenty of colour - these are my go-to, feel-good items.

 1960-70s Co-op maxi skirt - vintage fair

Top, suede waistcoat, denim jacket and bangles - charity shopped

Beret - quiz prize

Boots - Ebay

Tapestry tote bag - made by me

Now, I have a confession to make.

Oh don't worry, it's not that I've been shopping at Primark, or anything truly shameful...

But it has been brought to my attention that I might be a bit of an old fart when it comes to music.

I know; a shocking accusation, but it has some foundation.

Patsy was talking about the music she likes at the weekend, and reeled off a list of bands and artists, some of which I knew but couldn't really name any songs, and some I hadn't even heard of.

Well, what are you listening to? she asked.

Err... Lately, that would be Talking Heads. Soft Cell. Early Robert Palmer. The Smiths. Stevies Wonder and Nicks. Roxy Music. Joni Mitchell. Elvis Costello. Lots of old soul, funk and Motown.

So basically, the same music that I have listened to for the last 25-30 years...

 See? Old fart. One look at my blog posts titles this month gives me away; all song lyrics, by Talking Heads, Elvis, Roxy Music, The Seekers, David Bowie, Jackson Browne and Canned Heat. Down with the kids, I am not.

  Sure, I enjoy dancing round the kitchen to Happy as much as my kids, and I'm not suggesting for a minute that current music isn't as good or as interesting as the stuff I listen to, not at all.

I just hear a lot of songs which remind me of something else, and it sends me back to the original. Maybe I am past the age where music really knocks me for six and engenders lifelong love. Remember buying vinyl, and pouring over the sleeve and the lyrics and playing the album over and over and over again? It's a love affair, I suppose, and those early loves have shaped my tastes so much that nothing else quite matches up.

So come on - help me.
What should I be listening to?
Recommendations will be investigated and given a fair chance, honest.

Or when it comes to music, are you stuck in an old groove too?

 I'm showing up terribly late to Visible Monday (sorry, Patti.)

Same as it ever was...

xxxx

There are some things you can't cover up with lipstick and powder

1979.

What were you doing then?

Me? I was 15, feeling insecure, in the grip of powerful hormones, and wondering how life was going to turn out.

No change there then.

 I remember a profound sense of dislocation, of out-of-step-ness; a feeling that I never looked quite right, never had the right clothes, never thought or said the right thing...

And that has changed.

Now I know I don't look/dress like everyone else, and often seem to have different opinions.

Thankfully, I no longer care.

My mum always said to me You're you; you're unique. 

 I didn't appreciate her wisdom at the time, so strong was my desire not to be me, but to be like everyone else.

But she was right - of course - who is better at being you than... you?

This dress is from 1979.

I know the exact year, because the Ebay seller I bought it from wrote in her listing that she bought it from Dorothy Perkins with her first ever wage packet, so she could pinpoint the date.

It's made from a soft drapey viscose in a floral print, so typical of that time, with small shoulder pads for a 1940s-esque silhouette.

On the subject of dresses, my friend Kylie has made a welcome return to blogging with her sponsored Frocktober challenge, raising funds for research into ovarian cancer. She'll be doing a blog post every day in October featuring a different dress, starting here.


This particular cause hits a soft spot for me, since my dear friend Carol died from the disease 13 years ago.

Fuzzy pics of Patsy (left), me and Carol (right), from sometime in the late 1990s.


You can make a donation to the Ovarian Cancer Research Foundation via Kylie's blog, and she's even selling off some of the frocks along the way. Pop over and see how fabulous she looks.

We're the same vintage, Kylie and I, so I bet she has memories of 1979 too. I'm hoping she will be wearing a 70s dress at some point this month.

1970s dress - Ebay
Sunglasses, bangles, tights, shoes and denim jacket - charity shopped
Tapestry bag (my current favourite) - vintage shop
Green beads - gift from lovely Brodie.


Naturally, I wanted some music from 1979 to accompany this post.


Take a look at this list; do you remember them all?

 I know every song, from the sublime to the ridiculous. I was spoilt for choice, and have changed my title and accompanying video several times in the process of composing this post!

Flying Lizards, Tubeway Army, Amii Stewart, Blondie, Elvis Costello (who wrote Girls Talk, of course), The Jam, Squeeze, Roxy Music, Chic...

Marvellous. (Though there are some shockers in there too.)

Do you have a favourite?

Hope you all have a wonderful weekend!

xxxxx

            

                   

Add your voice to the sound of the crowd

Do you have a story about how you ended up being where you are?

I don't mean a metaphorical state-of-your-psyche kind of where you are. I mean your actual physical location.

I have mentioned before on this blog that I was born and brought up in rural Buckinghamshire, but have adopted Sheffield as my home town since coming here to university in 1982.

And that decision was at least in part informed by pop music. Yeah, I was (am?) that shallow...

Sheffield was home to some of my favourite bands in the early 1980s, the Human League, ABC and Heaven 17, and I am pretty sure that this gave the city extra cachet in my eyes. I was too intimidated to try for Oxford, too scared of the sheer size of London (and it was too close to home), so Sheffield, with its reasonable distance, its reassuring lack of pretension, its university offer that seemed within my under-confident grasp, its cheap bus fares, and its promise of Phil Oakey, Martin Fry and Glenn Gregory seemed perfect.


This city may have been built on the steel industry and all its offshoots rather than rock and roll, but Sheffield does have a strong musical heritage.

 

Legends in Fagans, by Sheffield artist Pete McKee.


Fagans is a traditional back street boozer which hosts a Sunday lunchtime folky musical play/singalong in its back room. At least it used to, I haven't been for years to know for sure if this still happens. These days, I am embroiled in a world of kids' swimming lessons and frantically chivvying them along to do their homework and cooking Sunday dinner, and therefore sadly no longer available for a pint or several of Guinness, listening to a boozy music session, and an afternoon sleep when I get home. Those were the days.

The legends of the picture are Alex Turner, Jarvis Cocker, Tony Christie, Phil Oakey and Richard Hawley.

If you want to see the Manchester legends version, it's here.

Pete McKee is brilliant, have a look around his website. I guarantee it will make you will smile. The images are stylish and stylised, yet all too human, real and recognisable.

All the illustrations in this post are his work.

(And rather neatly, he is also a musician, he plays ukelele in a Sheffield band called The Everly Pregnant Brothers.)

A rather different Pete, Peter Stringfellow, must be credited with putting Sheffield on the musical map in the mid 1960s. His nightclubs, the Black Cat Club and the King Mojo, have legendary status here for the acts who played there. The Beatles, The Who, Pink Floyd, Jimi Hendrix, The Kinks, Wilson Pickett, Stevie Wonder, Ike and Tina Turner, Geno Washington, and many more - the folk who got to see all these people play live in a tiny venue were fortunate indeed.

Joe Cocker had a moment or two in the 1960s.



The 1970s Sheffield music scene covered all the bases; from Tony Christie doing what he did for Maria, and Marti Caine winning New Faces in 1975 and becoming the darling of prime time Saturday night telly, to the Comsat Angels doing their bit for post-punk, and Cabaret Voltaire being Dada-ist and experimental.

I suspect these names mean little to most of you - sorry!

But my heart belongs to the 1980s, they were My Time in Sheffield.

Didn't every teenager have a copy of Dare by the Human League? I loved that album, still do.

League at the Limit



 I like all the interconnectedness between Phil Oakey and Glenn Gregory and Martyn Ware, how they all started out in the band together, before falling out and going their separate ways, with the latter forming Heaven 17. I love the story of Oakey chasing Ware down the street, throwing milk bottles from people's doorsteps at him after one of their many disagreements. Artistic differences and stolen milk, there's glamorous. And I liked the illusion of being cool I gained, or so I fondly imagined, for loving (We Don't Need This) Fascist Groove Thang, banned from Radio 1's playlist by Mike Read before he got all hot under the collar about Relax, foolish man.

And ABC's Lexicon of Love is incomparable. All of my heart remains one of my favourite songs.
Martin Fry was actually from Manchester, but he came to Sheffield the same way I did, to study English Literature at university.

 I can't talk 1980s Sheffield music without mentioning the mighty poodle-haired rockers who were Def Leppard - Krista would never forgive me!

The 1990s were all about Britpop and the eventual stardom of Pulp and the fabulous Jarvis Cocker. I have always appreciated the man rather more than his music, which may be a heinous confession to many. Again - sorry.

 Queue, the Leadmill 


All Seeing I, Moloko (who were formed and based here for a while) and the Longpigs, all had short moments in the sun, and the latter were the starting point for another of Sheffield's favourite sons, Richard Hawley. And with more of that interconnectedness, Hawley played and toured with Pulp for a while.

When the Arctic Monkeys won the Mercury Prize for their debut album in 2006, Alex Turner said "Someone call 999, Richard Hawley's been robbed." 

Arctic Monkeys the towers

 Vix's faves Reverend and the Makers are continuing to do Sheffield proud.

(Bugger - just realised I have forgotton Paul Carrack...)

Sheffield Records

There are so many videos I could have added to this post.

I've gone with my first love.

It's 1981, I'm 17, I'm planning my escape from the country to the Big City, I see this on Top of the Pops, and I'm in love.

Thanks, Phil and co, you brought me to a good place.

What brought you to the place you live, and are there any musical heroes who hail from there?

   xxxx

                               

Sheffield Sunday

 
  A lazy day is in order today, I think.

Apart from ironing the kids' school uniform and the customary drill of swimming lessons, that is.

And I suppose I'll have to cook some dinner later...

That's OK.

It's been a good weekend.

We took the kids out for a curry for tea on Friday. It took some perseverance but they finally all like something at our local Indian restaurant. This is useful, because it is situated at the end of our road, and OH and I do love our curries!

Littlest likes to run ahead and ask for a table, she is quite a favourite with one of the waiters who always shakes her hand and calls her "my friend".

On Saturday, I had my hair cut and coloured, always a joy.

I popped into a vintage fair at the Town Hall and might have made a small purchase or two...

And the man and I went out for the evening too!

Velvet jacket, cardigan, necklace, bangles and sequin beret - charity shopped

T-shirt and gloves - retail

Vintage carpet bag - flea market

Royal Worcester bone china brooch - car boot

1970s velvet maxi skirt and faux fur collar - awesome gifts from my awesome friend Sarah

Boots - Ebay

We went to see guitar maestro, folk-rock hero and all-round uncategorisable musical genius, Richard Thompson.

It's the fourth time I have seen him play live, the first being when I was a student in 1984.

How can that possibly be nearly 30 years ago?

If I were to draw a Venn diagram representing people at the Girls Aloud gig on Monday and those seeing Richard Thompson last night, I suggest the overlap would be very small.

Singular, in fact.

Me.

As we sat in our seats prior to the start, OH said he had seen someone he knew from work.

"Which one is he?" I asked.

"He's over there, " said OH, pointing, "he's balding with grey hair."

This was a description which fitted the majority of the men in the audience, so it didn't narrow things down much...

Hey, we're all getting older. 

If my darling hairdresser didn't work her magic on me, I'd be grey too, though not balding, thankfully.

Anyway, the gig was great. I loved it, along with all the other ageing audience members.

 I go through phases of posting Youtube clips, have you noticed?

I do tend to watch the videos other bloggers post, though they may not always be to my taste, and it does take time. But I like to hear new music and it's interesting to find out what my blog friends are into.

If you fancy watching, here is RT on cynical, angry, rocking form with Dad's Gonna Kill Me (2007) and showing his softer, wistful and more lyrical acoustic side on Salford Sunday (2013).

With a career spanning 45 years and 40 albums, there is a lot of music from which to select examples!

Hope you have had good weekends where you are! 

I'll be linking up over at Patti's Visible Monday as usual.

  xxx