PICTURE SPECIAL: Beaches Jazz Festival

I never pass up a free meal, so I didn't hesitate to attend the gratis feast of music that is the Beaches Jazz Festival last weekend. It's an annual cornucopia of finger clicking, hi-hat riding niceness where acts line up 20 metres apart along the splendid Beaches area of Queen Street East, the trendtacular stomping ground of information architects, limp-wristed liberals and pseudo-politicos with their designer babies, $5,000 beachcombers and obscure breeds of dog. The unwashed masses (in this case intentionally unwashed, because dirt is in) are invited to saunter up and down, pausing whenever they hear a band they like or a snack they can't resist, including funnel cakes (no, I don't know what they are either).

So we headed for the festival, setting off as the sun set, and parked as close as we possibly could. Which wasn't very close. In fact, parking in the leafy surrounds of the Beaches was a debacle: I'd stop in a spot only to be informed by Tony that I was too close to a fire hydrant, or that the car was facing the wrong direction (which is an actual rule of the road, apparently). In the chaos, my ice-cold demeanour slipped, and I ended up driving on the wrong side of the road. I realised my mistake upon coming face-to-face with a bemused oncoming motorist, so I pulled to the side, put my hazards on and waited for him to pass... Of course, I was stopped FACING THE WRONG DIRECTION, and so had to reverse around the corner before the stickler would move on.

But I digress. The festival itself was very good, if not particularly jazzy. It would have been more accurately marketed as the Beaches Covers Band Festival, with such classic hits as Killing In The Name and Smells Like Teen Spirit channeled as funk classics... and funk is not jazz, man, unless we're talking jazz-funk fusion. Nevertheless, photos follow, and can be enlarged with a click:

The Brian Rose band, obviously. They were quite good.

The jazziest cats of the night.

Keytar + Nirvana =/= jazz

Is that car facing the right direction...?

How I Roll

Start Spreading The News

My next adventure is the one. The Big Apple. The City That Never Sleeps. The Empire City. Gotham. Hymie Town. The Capital of the World. The City So Nice They Named It Twice. The Newcastle of the USA. New York City.

New York is 340 miles from Toronto, roughly the same as the distance between the sunlight uplands of regional capital Newcastle-upon-Tyne and that cesspit of corruption, London-on-Thames. In practical terms, that means a destination that was previously a distant pipe-dream is now a mere hour's flight away, and not just any old flight: we'll be snubbing Toronto Pearson - the world's most expensive airport for passengers - and instead flying out of Porter on what is essentially an obsolete two-man biplane.

Porter is special. It sits on an island opposite Toronto's downtown core, allowing suits and celebrities the opportunity to take off and land just 100 metres from the city centre (and enjoy what is apparently the world's shortest ferry service). Clart around at the top of the CN Tower and you'll have the rare opportunity to observe the comings and goings of an airport from far, far above. It's a lot like a real life game of Sim City 2000.

We'll be in New York for three days, which ought to be sufficient time to take in all of our most desired attractions: the Museum of Natural History, the Guggenheim, the Statue of Liberty, Ellis Island, Central Park... er... the Upper East Side? Is that a place?

We'll drink in all the essentials of NY - from questionable street meat to the chaos of Times Square - and ride the open-top tour bus like truly nerdtacular outsiders. It's tricky, though, to help but frame our trip in terms of the many excellent movies set in New York. In my mind's eye, our adventure has already played out in spectacular fashion:

• Brewster's Millions: a benevolent relative challenges Tony and I to spend a fortune in order to inherit even greater wealth, with the kicker that we can't have anything to show for our expenditure. I ensure an utter waste of $10m by investing in Sunderland football club; Tony invites the entire hotel to afternoon tea at Macy's.
• Gremlins 2: we eat after midnight... with hilarious consequences!
• Ghostbusters: finding neither the Gatekeeper nor the Key Master, we hightail it back to Canada before Zool gets proper mardy - but not before we've attended the rad party at Louis Tully's apartment.
• Home Alone 2: we spend a few days evading vicious hoodlums and sleeping in a condemned, dilapidated residence (to be fair, this could actually happen).
• Short Circuit 2: we befriend a sentient robot and find out that tackling crime in the big city... is not as easy... as it looks (Short Circuit 2 was actually shot in downtown Toronto, as are a lot of movies set in New York. True fact).
• Jumpin' Jack Flash: Tony and I stay in separate hotels and communicate using only a primitive messaging program.

We're yet to iron out the details, but the wheels are in motion, and any tips as to things to do/places to go are most welcome. You can even live vicariously through me and have the 'I ♥ NY' t-shirt to prove it: simply send me a postal order to the amount of $100 (I think that's how much they are) and you'll soon be the envy of Wallsend. Combine with a brash attitude and a half-eaten hotdog to complete the look.

Life in Corbridge

Our Shola

Our Shola, who art in Fenham, hallowed be thy name.
Thy long ball come, thy will be done
up front as it is in Hebburn.

Give him his game, put it on his head,
and forgive him his offsides as he forgives those who are offside against us.

Lead us not into relegation,
but deliver us from mackems. Amen.

PICTURE SPECIAL: Cottage Country

As ever, all pictures can be clicked for full size...

Vintage vacuum; knitted art.



Is it a grill? Is it a microwave? No - it's a TURBO-OVEN!

Just look at that. Mint condition, too.

Wood-clad walls and nautical mirrors. Cabins don't come any better.

Rotary telephone and nautical barometer. See previous comment.

Ghost stories did not follow.

Patiently waiting...

Canoe launching centre. Not pictured: surprisingly good canoeing skills.

Cakes delivered by boat! (no, really)

Opening negotiations.

On our way to the Euro 2012 final. Arrived in style (and wet).

Antiques barn. As exciting as it sounds.

It's a small world, eh?

The drive home reminded me of Road Rash 2.

See?

Arriving home on Canada Day.

Bonus pic one: travelling freakshow.



Bonus pic two: Janelle Monae!