Today marks the 35th anniversary of the death of the King of Rock & Roll, Elvis Aaron Presley. I think it is only appropriate then that I pay tribute to the man who introduced me to rock'n'roll and rockabilly way back when I was wee. The King is dead, long live the King.
On a recent shopping escapade with my mother to Southampton's shopping mall I went on the, what seems like a never ending, search for clothes that actually fit me. As most of you know, I am a lady of size that is not often represented by the high street or any clothing retailers really, and often rely on my mum to make me lovely garments. I am 6' tall, with 34" legs ending in (large) size 8 feet, and an hour glass figure that has bust and hips of a size 14 and the waist of a size 10. Yeah. Can you see why I generally detest shopping? And vintage shopping is a no-go area, which makes me sad because we all know how much I love vintage! I am, sometimes but rarely, saved by the tall section of high street stores, plus the one and only shop for taller ladies, Long Tall Sally. I say sometimes but rarely because according to these sections and stores long-legged ladies are only allowed to wear a maximum of three outfits:
1) The trouser suit.
2) Jeans/'Lounge wear':
And 3) Evening Dresses - never full length though, that would be far too much fabric (Shops listen up: a 6', size 12 lady uses much less fabric than a 5'5", size 18 lady)
This is quite nice actually...
I have spared you the monstrosity of the shoes...
Moving on to my next point: not only is there a lack of choice in the stores that DO provide taller ladies things, there is just a general lack of stores that provide anything at all. New Look, I am looking at you.This brings us neatly back to the beginning of our story...
New Look and Topshop were the only shops (to my knowledge anyway) that regularly provided a tall section (complete with the three permitted outfits), but as I searched for the section in the blindingly bright white Southampton branch my quest returned fruitless. New Look had stopped their tall section.
Now, I am left with only one shop that is willing to clothe me. They all seem willing to clothe small ladies - every shop seems to have a petite section! So where is my section? Any other tall ladies (and gents! I know you have this issue too!) feeling my pain? And, if anyone knows any vintage repro/rockabilly stores that do a tall section, you will be my hero if you inform me!
This time last week I was walking around the stalls of this years epic Hotrod Hayride. And when I say epic, I mean epic - hence why this post is five days late, it's taken me that long to recover! This was my third venture to the annual event, held at Bisley Shooting Range, and it was by far the best one yet. Both nights the bands were outstanding, the cars were even better than previous years with many coming from across the continent for the weekend, and the people were the nicest they've ever been - but maybe that was the bottle of rum I had consumed...?
Friday, as always was quite a chilled day, people arriving at various times, bikes steaming up and down the roads throughout the day, and the casual beer by the barbie. The highlight, by far, for me on the first day was the performance by the Swedish rockabilly band, The Go Getters. I've been following this band since I first really got into the scene and have wanted to see them for a long, long time. They certainly did not disappoint! I think they were called back for encore four times? I'm not sure, the rum had set in by this point. That's probably also why the photos of the set I took are rather blurry. Anyway, myself and Steve enjoyed ourselves thoroughly, and promptly got very excited any other time in the weekend when we saw any member of the band.
Probably the least blurry of the images
With a slightly sore head I woke up on Saturday in a boiling hot tent, ready to brace the day's racing down at the hill climb. Usually they would have drag racing at this point, but the landing strip they usually use had been commandeered for those pesky Olympics. Anyway, the hill climb was fun, apart from the fact I'd made the foolish decision to wear shorts and was rather cold after an hour under the shade of the trees. Mark, my dad's friend and part of the Bleek Autos team (they like to build customs, rods and bikes in their spare time and call themselves Bleek Autos), nearly took out part of the forest, a number of spectators, and not to mention the fire engine, with a fabulous near-crash as he sped up the dirt track.
Credit to whoever was brave enough to film this!
No sh*t, Sherlock...
So after we'd all recovered, we drove back to site and settled in for the night. Read "settled in for the night" as: got drunk and danced like crazy people. Seriously, my feet the next day, I swear they were physically bruised from the amount of stompin', boppin' and strollin' I did. Best set of the night goes to the fabulous Gizzelle, who's voice could probably knock you off your feet. She was joined for one song by Jake Allen, who I later accosted. Apologies, Jake, once again Mr B. Cardi had reared his drunken head. But seriously, amazing set!
We also saw Big Boy Bloater - an amazing voice by a lovely man...
Watched a Freak Show (how does one realise one has the talent for hammering nails into one's nose exactly?)
And burlesque was brought to us by the ever sexy Anna Fur Laxis...
Sunday was subdued; I was very sore headed, me and mamma sold a few things at the Trunk Of Junk before the heavens opened, we saw the soap box derby - which was a little slow, I won't lie to you, a few needed a little push towards the end - where I spoke to a lovely lady called Lydia, and got packed up to go home. In the car (called Delilah) back Steve and I seat-danced to songs we'd heard that weekend and lamented over it being gone from our lives for another year...
But lets not end this on a sad note! Here are some more photos from the weekend that makes me not feel like a freak! 'Til next year!
Agatha went home, and Steve let his feminine side out
I wish I could dance like these guys...(I also owe them apology - or rather, pardon - as I confused them when I asked for instructions to Sainsbury's, and they didn't speak English...)
Trunk Of Junk
Credit to Steve Biddlecombe for this one. The guy in the background represents how my liver felt the next day.
Today mother dearest and I wanted a cup of tea, as we always do, but we wanted a cup of tea with a twist this time. And so, with a little thought, the Earl of Bombay was born, supped, and enjoyed thoroughly in this sudden summer heat England is experiencing. I don't know if this 'cocktail' actually does exist and I've just renamed it, but I was pretty proud of how it came out. It's a refreshing, alcoholic iced tea with a hint of rosemary to compliment the gin.
For one beverage, you shall need...
150ml of chilled, weak Earl Grey tea (make as normal and then chill rather than using cold water straight away)
50ml Bombay Sapphire gin (personally I don't think any other off-the-shelf gin would really work, possibly Hendricks...)
3 round slices of lemon (two for the prep, one for the garnish)
1 sprig of rosemary (take the leafy things off of the stem)
1 stem of rosemary (for the garnish)
Ice cubes
A pretty glass or tea cup to serve
A mesh sieve to strain the drink
It doesn't take that long to make an Earl of Bombay, as long as your tea is chilled before hand...
Whilst the Earl Grey is chilling add two slices of lemon to infuse into the drink
Put the sprig of rosemary into a cocktail shaker (or a large tumbler if you don't have a cocktail shaker) with some ice and 'muddle' them all together (I used the end of a wooden spoon) for around ten seconds, or until the ice begins to melt into the rosemary.
Add the gin, and stir into the rosemary.
Pour all of the iced Earl Grey and the lemon into the gin concoction and stir once more
Strain through the sieve into the iced up glass/tea cup/vessel that you shall sup from and garnish with a round of lemon and a stem of rosemary.
A fly in visit I'm afraid, I'm still very much disconnected from the online world, as I have been for the past month, for the next few weeks. I'm currently sat in the lovely coffee shop on Smithdown Road, Oomoo, pinching some of their wifi whilst supping on a delicious cappuccino as my new house isn't yet connected to the world wide web. That's right. My new house.
The time between getting back from my dig on the Isle of Man (blog to come, have yet to sort through photos and gather my thoughts on the very wet experience), moving and settling into my house can only be described as hectic and traumatic. Remind me why people move house? I had 24 hours to get from the Isle of Man - the children's song "Going This Way That Way, Forward and Backward Over The Irish Sea" is not to be taken lightly, it speaks the truth - finish packing, move my stuff from the old house to the new house and sort out bills. Phew. Never an experience I want to repeat. It went smooth-ish, regardless of the fact my old landlord was rather rude to me and I was not one to be trifled with in my fragile state. But, I'm here now, almost complete with just the internet to sort out!
Next week I'm doing the four hour journey home to spend the week with family and then it's off to the Hotrod Hayride! Yes, it's that time of year again! Excited does not come close to explaining my emotions! I might be able to squeeze in another blog before the epic weekend but don't hold your breath.
Oh, and congratulations to any Liverpool Uni students who graduated this week!
