Soho

I'm not at liberty to divulge where I took this photograph*

With recent talks regarding a possible Anglo-Scottish Blogger Summit currently residing in the long grass, it was good to get together with the original Blogfather for a few scoops.

Picking up where we left off last October, Mondo and I decided that Soho would be the next leg on our A-Z tour of the capital. And so it was that we began our jaunt around the West End in The Ship on Wardour Street. The Ship was always the meeting point, many moons ago, before the hop, skip and a jump to the Marquee Club two doors down. The only physical surviving memory of London's finest rock venue these days being a ridiculously high blue plaque on the side of No. 90.

The White Album was recorded here

Still open nightly

After blowing the froth off a couple, we then embarked upon the well trodden path around Dean Street, Greek Street, Berwick Street, Soho Square & the myriad of side streets that link them up (rabbit holes all). The area bordering W1 & WC2 is of course still mesmeric and manages to retain a charm that won't go away, despite creeping gentrification and sanitisation -  the Italian coffee shops and clip joints may well have faded  away but I can report the traditional London boozer is still thriving!

Marquee RIP

Highlights included meeting Suggs in the French House and a cracking late afternoon drink in Trisha's, a modern day Winchester Club tucked away where only those in the know can find it. A spot of banter with Tom Parker Bowles ("Oi! Parker Bowles! No!") in the Groucho Club* while we were still kinda sober, before bookending the day back at The Ship; anchored, you could say.

I set the coordinates for home via the new all singing, all dancing Tottenham Court Road Hub and despite falling asleep on the tube, the train and in the taxi, still made it back unscathed. All in a day's work.

Thanks for another great day Mondo. Where are we going next?

More art for art's sake

The brushes came out early this weekend; Jenny stayed in bed all morning trying desperately to shake off her cold/bug/fever, so out came the pop up studio. The two resulting canvases, 'ATV' and 'Marquee' are pretty self explanatory. Growing up in the Midlands in the seventies, ATV was the default ITV transmitter (though our aerial would often pick up Anglia and Yorkshire if the atmospherics were right). The opening credits, usually blue and yellow in colour, remain etched on my retinas. However, I've painted the red and green livery often used to herald Tiswas on Saturday mornings. And for any TV historians out there, this year marks the programme's fortieth anniversary.

The Marquee in Wardour Street W1 is often name checked around here. It was tacky, it was loud, it was marvellous. And its stage backdrop was iconic.


I'm thinking of starting a new website just for my canvases. I only started doing them just after Christmas and already I've got the makings of a small (but perfectly formed) exhibition. I don't profess to be an artist, I'm just a man who owns a few paint brushes. But I do enjoy throwing a bit of paint around on a Saturday and Sunday morning.

I made it to The Top

A recent visit to the West End found me walking down Wardour Street past the site of The Marquee. To any young 'uns reading this, the legendary London was torn down in the early 90s. The only reminder that 90 Wardour Street W1 once played host to some of rock and roll's most famous, and infamous, luminaries is the blue plaque name-checking Keith Moon.











I have many happy memories of nights spent in the tiny Soho club. Anyone who's been (and if you were there, like me, you really must be a dinosaur) will remember the corridor from the main doors leading to the bar on the left. Once in the bar, through the glazed wall/window you could see when the support band were about to pack up and vacate the stage in readiness for the main turn. That's when everyone would pile in and form a scrum in front of the stage. A blind eye would be turned when it came to fire regulations, so despite the venue having an official capacity of 700, there would often be 1000+ sweaty bodies in there. And there certainly was in October 1983 when ZZ Top (even then, a stadium act in the States) came to town. As a warm up gig for their Eliminator tour, the Texan beardies descended on The Marquee - a venue so small that the band would have played in places with dressing rooms bigger than it (and what they would have made of the broom cupboard where they got changed is probably unprintable). Here's my ticket.

I've got a button badge somewhere in the loft with the strapline 'I made it to The Top.' I don't know what ' be in your seats by 7.45' meant...it was strictly standing only. Looking back, three things stand out when I think about that night: seeing Thomas the Vance in the bar, being close to tears when they played La Grange and chatting with Garry Bushell who was reviewing it for Sounds; my music paper of choice. Good times.

Pickin' on Tush!