It Would Be So Nice

It's been 2 years since I went on a holiday. I mean, a proper holiday with beaches, suncream, and swimming in the sea. A holiday where you come back refreshed, chilled and brown. Not feeling broken like after a festival, or buzzing from the excitement of a city break and weighed down with extravagant purchases. Last time I went on a proper holiday the best thing about it was its simplicity; the biggest decision of the day was whether to have fresh pineapple or mango for lunch. It's not often that you can say that about your day when you live in Britain, let alone in central London. When my parents invited me on a trip to a little Greek island, I was a little reluctant at first - it's hardly rock and roll to holiday with your Mum and Dad - but then I realised that was precisely what I needed; time away from everything and with nothing specific to do for a week or so in the sun. The necessity of taking a proper holiday is undeniable, and I can't believe I'd left it this long since my last one! But when you only have 20 days of paid holiday a year, It seems incredibly greedy to use a third of it just doing nothing. Not so. We reverted to a simple routine of getting up late, going straight to one of the 2 beaches on the island, swimming and lazing in the sun, returning for a siesta, then heading back to the beach for an afternoon, often until 7pm. Then we'd head home again, and go out for dinner. Where we'd eat the most luscious, fresh and delicious seafood I've tasted in a long while. The freshly-caught squid stuffed with vegetables and feta was so good that I had it three times in the space of a week; I mean, when are you going to get that in London? And then we repeated the same routine every day. It sounds dull, but it's the ultimate luxury - having the time to do absolutely nothing. I've come back feeling much more chilled out (well, almost; the return journey was LONG) and recharged. I've said it before, but it;s so important to get out of an urban environment as often as you can, to reconnect with nature and switch yourself off. I'm sounding a bit Mother Earth, but I'm serious. I've always been of the opinion that relaxation time and sleep are just as important to your sanity as work, and this holiday has proved it. Next summer I'l be off to a beach again somewhere, and I urge you to do the same. Relaxation is the ultimate Staple, and the only was to do that is on holiday. Other Holiday Staples:
The beautiful island of Halki with my family
An iPod full of electronica
Stuffed squid from Remezzo
Mythos lager
A woven straw hat from New Look (with some Liberty fabric wrapped around the base)
Prescription sunglasses
Havanaias flipflops

We're All Going On A...

I've blogged before about getting out of town, but this weekend was so exceptionally good, that it deserves an honourary mention. Now that my parents have moved out of my old hometown (Ilkley, in the unlikely event that you didn't already know), I can't even have a big Xmas Eve piss-up with my mates, and we've always talked about having a weekend together, so this year seemed like the perfect time to get together for the now Annual May Bank Holiday Get-Together. We hired a murder-mystery appropriate mansion just near Whitby for the weekend and spent our time chatting, watching DVDs, paddling (or swimming if you're MAD) in the sea, playing boardgames and drinking Jeeves (aka Pimms). It was bliss. Lovely to catch up with all my fabulous home-friends, and for all of us to leave the real world behind for a stress-free, lazy, junkfoody weekend of indulgence. Getting away from it all is such an essential; although I've always been one to set aside time-out, actual, proper holidays are such a Staple. Something to look forward to, enjoy and return from feeling refreshed. Especially when you're cut off from the phone/internet, and paddling in the sea. It's the first of a few mini-holidays I'm taking this summer (decided that 8 festivals is a little much) and I cannot wait for more...Other Staples this week:
A relaxing Mini-break in Yorkshire
Having the whole of First Class to myself on the train (same price in advance)
Cycling to work
The Final ClubRees@the Fly (but there will be more!)
A big parcel from ASOS
Friendly Fires gig at The Forum
Ultra-large jars of Nutella

A Country Mile...or 8

I've blogged before about my love of getting out of London; for I am a country boy at heart (and in years gone by). So last weekend I was rather pleased that the fantastic Alvin had arranged a daytrip to everyone's favourite commuter town in the Buckinghamshire countryisde, Tring. Now he's organised a few before, and I've always meant to attend, but an 8am rendezvous at Euston on a Saturday morning is a tough target to hit. However, this time, I made it and I'm SO glad I did. While the environs of Tring may not offer the panoramic vistas I've seen in the Cairngorms, Alps or Rockies, it's a million miles away from the concrete cityscape of London. I even dressed up in my country gent outfit of black wellies, cream jeans and green military coat. It was utterly glorious. We did an 8-mile loop, with the Ivinghoe Beacon forming the centrepiece. A brief climb up to the top and the view was, by all accounts, pretty spectacular. As the weather was bright, you could see for MILES. And the wander was enhanced by some brilliant company, and a fantastically invigorating wind that blew the cobwebs away - just what you need on a Saturday morning. This was rounded off with a visit to the aptly-named Valiant Trooper pub in Almondbury, where I polished off a three-course pub lunch (deep-fried brie; fish pie; brownie), three pints of Honeydew beer and an Amaretto. I've not been that satisfied in a long time. It's so good for the soul to get some miles under the feet and a pretty vista in front of your eyes; I've been taken on walks since I was a little kid, and it's something that is easy to dismiss on a mad weekend in town, but it's so accessible (the fast train gets there in 25 minutes) and totally free. Delicious. Hopefully we'll be able to organise a few more in the coming months (I'll post details) and maybe even a trip to the Lake District...Other Staples this week:
A lovely walk in Tring on a Saturday
Gmail's smileys (only discovered these today!)
New issue of Fantastic Man
The Camden Tup
Aqualung's album 'Still Life' (rediscovery of old CDs continues)
Warburton's Hot Cross Bun Loaf
JG Ballard's novel, 'Kingdom Come'

Vive les Festivals

So here's what I've been up to in July. Basically, the festivals have taken over my life. I was planning on keeping this summer a little more low-key; last year I made it to eight festivals in all. This may seem entirely bonkers, and I suppose to some extent it is. But when your passions are live music, partying and dressing up in improbable combinations of clothes, there is no better place to combine all three. As July unfolded, I took the first Eurostar of the day to Brussels, where bemused business travellers sat amid huge rucksacks, cagoules and tents, the zzcchhvvip of fastenings sitting uncomfortably next to their pink shirt-and-tie combos. Rock Werchter is Belgium's answer to Glastonbury, and it showcased many of the same bands, but for much cheaper, and with the added bonus of a 24-can crate of beer costing just €13. Crowdsurfing to Justice, being awed by Radiohead for the second time in a week and rocking it up to everything from Kings of Leon and Beck to Duffy and Digitalism; the whole weekend melted into a blur of music, beer and good times, the photos marked only by the differing outfits. A favourite was using an old orange mountaineering cagoule over a tshirt and shorts, cuffing the sleeves and belting it in at the waist with a gold braided belt and accessorising with the gold visor and some purple canvas shoes. Sounds ridiculous, and it wasn't until I got back and spent the first half of the week marvelling at Facebook that I realised it was. The following week was party central, no time for recovery - Simian Mobile Disco, Jamie Lidell and Rockfeedback at the Cross Kings flashed past, all bleeps, sax and dancing on tables. Just a few short days of work (and some very civilised jazz in Stoke Newington) intervened into this party schedule as Latitude loomed into view. Another chance to see the majestic Sigur Ros, and experience the fabulous Joanna Newsom, as well as catch Interpol, Blondie, Midnight Juggernauts, Shortwave Set and Lykke Li. Unlike RW, Latitude was a tad more civilised, but that didnt stop the backstage forays, beer-filled breakfasts and ridiculous dressing; a highlight here was an outfit of 1980s CITV presenter pullover with burgundy jeans, blue shoes and a multi-coloured silk cummerbund patterned with New York theatre tickets; it looked as though a rainbow had been sick on me. Post-Latitude, a couple more gigs followed and a triumphant night of DJing at Club Rees @ the Fly rounded off the week. All that remained of the month of festivals was a quick day trip to Secret Garden Party (guttingly missing the inimitable spectacle of Grace Jones), and then a Leicester Square premiere (natch); here I managed to pull off gingham shorts on the red carpet, pairing them with grey bstore round-toe lace-ups, a black polo shirt, silvery scarf, belt and sunglasses. This sort of month barely leaves time for work, and I think, one month (or perhaps two if you feel like pushing it) of the year should be reserved for this sort of partying. With a veritable glut of festivals across the globe all summer, from April right through to September, it's important to be able to let go, follow the music and just go and have a damn good weekend (or 4) with your mates. Festivals are a Staple, but more important is your approach; push where you need to, rest where you need to - there is no place more suitable constructed for a week of hedonism. Bring on Field Day! Amongst this festival of a month, other Staples comprised:
Festivals (Rock Werchter, Latitude, Secret Garden Party)
Estelle's infectious single, 'American Boy'
Patterned cummerbunds
Warm cans of lager
The feel of grass constantly underfoot
The magic of Facebook's photo-tagging
Home-made lanyards and line-ups

Bonnie Scotland

I'm writing this from the summit of one of the highest railway passes in the UK. Corrour in Scotland, on the line between Fort William and Glasgow, at just over 1400ft is just staggeringly beautiful. There's still snow on the ground, mottling the palette of browns to a frosted chocolate. Although the clouds are low, the light across the glaciated terrain is clear and crisp; the rough grass has seemingly not been touched in millennia. The senses of both emptiness and remoteness are all-enveloping, and it's easy to forget that you are in Britain. It's a million miles from Oxford Circus, in every sense. And it's so heartbreakingly beautiful, especially with the light icing-sugar dusting of snow all around, turning to a thick covering as the altitude climbs. Dropping down a little lower, a fine mist covers the train and turns the clear sun into a hazy squint. This is so beautiful, so still and so superlative that I've run out of appropriate superlatives. The train is mostly empty, with a couple of tourists like myself and several locals who seemingly make this commute a few times a week. It's impossible for me to imagine making this journey without staring open-mouthed through the window, my eyes and brain struggling to compute the scenery unfolding. Extended train travel always provokes this reaction in me: I know I've said it before, but the most civilised and simple way to appreciate your surroundings as well as have time to think and just be , is on a train. If anything was a Staple, this journey is.

Emergency Exit

It's easy to forget just how lovely and accessible the rest of the SouthEast of GB is from London. We got some mates together for a brief jaunt out to Southend this Saturday, and although it might not be the classiest mini-break, just soaking your toes in the freezing sea and chilling out on the beach is enough to de-stress from a week of work and a Friday evening of blasting it. I'm a true believer in chilling out; a relaxed body is healthier and happier. And it might be just because I'm a country bumpkin, but I can't relax in the city; at least not in London. So a fantastic train ride (for only £7.60 return) and an hour later, there we were on the beach. Escaping for just a few hours was so lovely, and even better earlier in the summer at a caravan park near Clacton; we didn't even make it to Clacton proper, just hung around the park all weekend. It was one of the best of my life. With so much choice, and the weather still being (touch wood) warm-ish, I urge you to get your frisbee and a four-pack and get yourself to Liverpool Street. It's even better than a hungover Saturday in your bed watching the Hollyoaks omnibus. Yes, even better. This week's Staples are:
Groupsave tickets out of London
Toblerone in airport-sized packs
Queens Park in northwest London
Noise-cancelling headphones with a overhead band
Aubergine knitwear
Evening picnics indoors
Peppermint tea