how you know you're getting old

1. When you prefer a "nice sit down" and a mug of tea to hanging out at music festivals

The Cobra boys are in town; after some brief hang time on Friday night at Victoria's flat in Kensington (which, by the way, is drool-worthy), their first gig is the next day at Give It A Name. Alex puts me on the list with a +1.

We head down there in time for their set at 4ish, walk the wrong way round Earls Court Centre, double back on ourselves, eventually get in. It's very dark inside. Fi wants to get to the front, I prefer to steer clear of teenage moshers, so we settle for somewhere in the middle. It's fun that most of the kids around us know the words to the songs and are dancing and stuff, but like I say, I'm not into the big crowds so duck back a ways. Their set finishes, we escape the crowds, I try to text one of the US cell phones but I'm not even sure they have them on. Fi veers towards Pizza Express in the outer hall but the lines are massive. Both of us would quite like a sit down.

We decide then to leave - we've seen the band we want to see, the only others that interest me aren't on till much later that night. We get off at Turnham Green to stop for ice cream at Fouberts, get some groceries, walk back to the car that we've left in W4, then drive home. Collapse on the sofa with a cuppa to watch Dr Who (The Doctor's Daughter. I had some issues with it, but still. Sob.) and barely move for the rest of the evening. Rock n roll.

2. When drunken BBQs turn into family-friendly affairs

The next day is amazingly hot and sunny. We'd been trying to organise a BBQ for today but as of Saturday night it's only going to be me, my sister, and her friend Katy, which means less BBQing and more lying in the sun with a glass of something cold and alcoholic. As the sun heats up, it seems everyone that couldn't make it before, or wasn't sure if they could, suddenly want in on the grilled meat action. We somehow have eight people turning up and no food, so an emergency trip to Tescos is called for. Food, drink, ice cream. Someone else is bringing the Pimms. There's lots of beer in the fridge. Party time.


We get home and sort food out and then decide to make the garden more toddler-friendly, as the godson is coming over. He brings over his paddling pool, for the amusement of all. The Binnie-Marston clan also turn up, so we now have two under-2s among us. There are more soft drinks around than beer, and the Pimms doesn't even get opened. Everyone lounges in the sun, the music plays (at a neighbourhood-friendly - I hope - volume), people read the Sunday papers, Sam makes me bring down our uni yearbook (laughs all round). All in all it's a thoroughly civilised affair; a far cry from the house party style BBQ of our youth that we had perhaps envisioned, but is there really anything wrong with that? After all, we can't stay young forever, and what's so great about youthful recklessness anyway?

Reading Festival 2007

Friday night: head to the K West with Alex, Ryland and Nate as their bus leaves at midnight. Having an earnest political discussion with William (TAI) at the bar over vodkas and whiskeys, Suarez palms me a guest ticket and all-access pass for Reading Festival the next day. Genius.

Saturday: oversleep. Debate taking wellies after reports of mud, decide against it (end up wearing sneakers that give me blisters. Ouch). Hop on the train to Reading, once there follow the crowds to the festival grounds. Get sent to about five different gates and access points, doing almost a complete circle of the perimeter before someone notices the AA pass and says 'Well, you could have got in anywhere with that.' Now they tell me.

Miraculously find CS quite quickly once inside. Hotter than a - well, it's very hot out so I welcome sitting down in the (relative) cool and shade of their portakabin dressing room (which is about as luxurious as it sounds). Steal a bottle of water from their fridge, say hi to Gabe and Ryland when they show up. Ryland tells us about some journalist, Guy Ripley, who's around somewhere...

The day basically progresses as such: sit in the shade drinking and hanging out with peoples, walk around to the main stage to watch The Shins/Bloc Party/Arcade Fire, walk back to the dressing room area for more shade-sitting and drinking...



At one point we're all sitting in the yard between the dressing rooms when someone approaches us and asks the kids in the bands (two of Victoria's friends are here too) to do a drawing for charity (or something), which everyone gets way in to:



When Cobra goes on stage I venture out into the masses to meet up with two girls from work who are at the Festival all weekend. We're at the back of the tent where the boys are playing and still everyone around us seems to know all the words, which is cool.

With my AA pass I'm allowed on to the viewing platforms sidestage of the main stage so got some pretty killer views of the acts and the crowds (Suarez, I don't think I said thank you enough!)


Bloc Party




Arcade Fire

Probably should have made more effort to see bands whilst there but the heat and crowds cause major apathy - and I get to see the main bands I'm interested in anyway. I split after Arcade Fire as it's now dark and I have to walk back to the station and shit, and to be honest, by that stage I'm pretty festivalled-out.

On the train on the way back I get a text: "I'm at Reading Festival too! Am working in the Carling bar next to main stage, come find me for free drinks." Alas, too late! I get home and blissfully take of my slightly muddy sneakers and sit down to watch the highlights on BBC from the comfort of my sofa...

Full Decaydance photoset

Art School Confidential part two

rough sketch of image for back page of our final project, a 4-page comic, which had to be 'about the sea'. ack. as it was our interpretation of 'the sea', i went off on a tangent and did something about revisiting the normandy beaches.

CB: tell me about skool
H: it was FUN. it made me feel happy
H: and kind of unblocked
H: and more creative
H: all of which are good
CB: wow. that's the best ever!
H: i forget how stifling office environments are
H: we went to the comics museum one day too, that was cool. it's only tiny but interesting


couple of panels from first page of final project, about normandy beaches

CB: is the class done? will you keep drawing?
CB: what were the other students like?
H: yeah it was only a week long
H: yes i think i will... although i'm still not much of a drawrer (that's so not a word)
H: other students were a real mix - almost as many girls as boys, ages from.. 18 to 40-ish... some had previous illustration experience, some had none
H: a couple of people dropped out by about the second or third day, which is kind of lame
CB: yeah! in a week class! losers
H: exactly
H: one guy was talking about getting us all to keep in touch and starting a quarterly comic where each have four or five pages to fill
H: which could be cool


panel from third page of normandy beach mini-comic.

H: looking at all the different kinds of comic book and graphic novel, there are so many that are like.., my style - ie, relatively basic - of drawing - like quite a few of the autobiographical graphic novels and stuff
H: you know what i mean?
CB: yeah! that's what I was saying
CB: I mean look at Scott Pilgrim
H: yeah - i did a few sketches and stuff from those american manga style books, they're pretty easy to copy
H: and i can copy quite well. guess it's just another way of learning.
CB: it totally is! that's what I did from when I was 9
H: lolCB: I mostly copied the Dungeons and Dragons manuals. LOL*
H: hahahah brilliant

So in summary:
I had a good week, it was good to be in a creative environment again and have the opportunity to just sit and draw and sketch all day.

In terms of what I learned, I think the Eisner and McCloud books actually do a better job of teaching the theory and work behind it all, of which I thought there'd be more in this course. However, for me personally, I can't underestimate the powers of the practical side of the class; I have sketch books coming out of my ears but I can never quite bring myself to sit down and properly do some work - so the act of actually *having* to was a good breakthrough, and I'm kind of hoping I can keep that momentum going. I have those three books I've just referenced on my shelf, which I totally intend to re-read once I've waded through the three stacks of books I have to read (most of which are on loan from schminnie or the library, so I really should get cracking).

I mean, it's not like I'm going to go off and become an illustrator. We all know this isn't a new career path for me. It was mainly about branching out and opening up - and escaping the office - all of which it did.

The one downfall of the week: the proximity of Central St Martins to Gosh Comics... It's been recommended to me before, but this was the first time I'd actually visited. And needless to say I went most days and spent too much money.

*CB, don't disown me for publishing that...

The finished back page image

Art School Confidential part one

I know from experience that I can't handle long stretches in an office without some kind of creative outlet. When I first left uni, I would do short temp. contracts with the broadcasting company then go play on film sets or do some writing in the month or so between the jobs. The year in New York, when I HAD to stay a whole year in the same office job really ground me down at times - probably what pushed me to really get the freelance thing going. The writing, along with planning and doing small zines and projects with CC (with more emphasis on the planning; this 'planning' often took place at Union Pool or the Pink Pony or somewhere similar, which may explain why it was more talk, less action...) helped make the continuous office existence more or less bearable.

Back to the present, and what with this "two week temp job" now stretching into its eighth month, and fed up of office life, I took a week off work to go do summer school - 'Illustration for Comics and Graphic Novels' at Central St Martins.

Having booked the course in a flurry of excitement with the intention of re-reading Will Eisner and Scott McCloud and getting back into drawing practice, it then happened that I was given a last-minute freelance assignment (Siouxsie Sioux!) with a super-short turnaround, which basically squashed my ideas of turning up well-read and well-prepared. The Sunday night before the course I started having kittens (What if I'm not good enough? What if everyone can see I'm a fraud? I won't be the only girl, will I? What if everyone is younger than me?); I had somewhat panic-stricken conversation with Dan, who, as my chief source of all things art-related, I had hoped would calm my nerves, but when he left to go for brunch (the five hour time difference, folks), I succumbed to the fear - and gave up and watched the musical episode of Buffy. Good prep work.

As it turns out it was all fine. I got up to Holborn with about half an hour in hand so I downed some coffee then went up to CSM HQ on Southampton Row. I was directed to room 214, where I sat and waited until the lecturer turned up near to 10. We chatted a little about my background (writing) and comics and stuff, while waiting for the rest of the class to appear. They never did. The lecturer eventually went to see what had happened - and turns out we'd both been directed to the wrong classroom. We went up to the third floor where everyone was waiting. Once in the new classroom we were made to do those horrendously awkward intros that people leading groups are so fond of making you do. I was relieved to discover I wasn't the only one that wasn't an arts major (nor was I the only girl, or the oldest).

These first couple days we've had to keep pairing up and drawing each other in different poses and so on - first of all focusing on facial expressions, then moving on to full body poses - and of course both times I got the guy who's doing an MA in illustration and the guy who's in the middle of an arts degree and whose drawings reminded me quite a lot of those in the 'Fables' series, making my amateur attempts look... well, even more amateur. It was, however, quite heartening to hear a lecturer (from Central St Martins, no less) tell me "I don't know what you're talking about, you CAN draw".

A selection days one and two; the central figure is a copy of Ramona Flowers, heroine of the Scott Pilgrim series, created by Bryan Lee O'Malley





Better bigger

Perhaps? Could it be?

Summer? Is that you?

A Summer Chill - Ivy League
Summer Time - The Pretty Things

summer nights

That letter I wrote to British summertime a few entries back clearly worked. We've been smacked with a heatwave. And of course there's no a/c on public transport. Or in my office.

It does mean we turn all continental and eat out in the backyard, with our mix-and-match chairs and bbqs that take hours to fire up [and then become unuseable after my sister leaves marshmallows on the grill then forgets about them].

dear british summertime

please come back, all is forgiven.

yours fondly,

the ever hopeful british public
xo