Axiomatic monochopsis

Happy new year! Yes it’s March, I know… yes, it’s been a while – what seems like a lifetime – filled with clear Covid concerns plus world war worries alongside very real relegation fears and genuine grievances… but it all started quite pleasantly, at the World Museum with their new addition, the beautiful Polpo, pretty much my favourite animal… and then a trip to show the kids my own oeuvre in the recently reopened ‘Wondrous Place’ and then a similarly enjoyable trip back in time at the Atkinson in Southport and their ‘Grew up 80s’ exhibition which brought back so many wonderful memories of yesteryear.

Meanwhile, the new year was spent watching A LOT of TV: very enjoyable, comforting and familiar fayre, such as Stay Close, Cobra Kai, and the Book of Boba Fett (both childhood heroes) the latter with its amazing CGI. Then there came the death of Sidney Poitier – To Sir With Love, indeed- featuring ‘the teacher who gets through to the kids by challenging them to be adults’ And arguably one of the most wonderful musical endings of any film – and the more grown up content of The Lost Daughter (more brilliance from Elena Ferrante) and the similarly Oscar nominated and quite incredible ‘Hand of God’, a semi-autobiographical tale by Paolo Sorrentino all about Maradona’s arrival in Naples, which has some incredible moments. Talking of which, I also marvelled at the Pavarotti documentary by Ron Howard and the linked concert from Hyde Park which I vaguely remember taking place but was only ten at the time.

Oh, and the bizarre Herbert Clunkerdunk which evoked memories of Flight of the Conchords, then the beautiful-in-every-scene most Wes-Andersonesque Wes Anderson film ever, The French Dispatch, the return of Ozark, The Holiday and of course loads of Encanto... then, away from the small screen, playing footy for first time in years, and the arrival of Frank Lampard who once scowled at me in Selfridges then broke my heart at Wembley 2009 which still feels like a bit of a watershed moment, thirteen years later. Talking of romance, Valentine’s brought with it an actual date night (watching Date Night) and a new object of my affection:

And, more hearts:

The rest of the months passed with sleepless nights, sad passings and separation anxiety, with separate half terms meaning a weekend away in Chester and a perfect pizza at Stile Napoletana there, plus muddy frolics at the Crocky Trail, both of which I heartily recommend. Days off were spent doing DIY, watching Countdown, and somewhere along the way learning the two beautiful words that make up this post’s title, which essentially means ’self evident feeling of being out of place’ (Taken from the Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows (John Koenig), monachopsis is. The subtle but persistent feeling of being out of place, as maladapted to your surroundings as a seal on a beach…. unable to recognize the ambient roar of your intended habitat, in which you’d be fluidly, brilliantly, effortlessly at home) before enjoying the bizarre humdrum of the school run for a few days, and then a last hurrah.

I’ve been lucky enough to experience the culinary genius of Paul Askew, and the excellent service of the staff at The Art School in Liverpool, twice and when I saw he was to be involved in Barnacle (replacing the equally excellent Pilgrim, upstairs at the Duke Street Market) I was very excited to visit.

A little lunch last week was more than worth the wait.

A real highlight this time was the relaxed, informal service which accompanied the impeccable food, all of which was sourced locally. I started (naturally) with an Everton gin, whilst WW opted for an English fizz; incredible amuses bouches arrived of raw milk butter with stout soda bread and a powerful artichoke broth, then the main events.

The seafood chowder was a taste of the sea to behold, and the chicken terrine packed a real punch of lovage. The mains, though, were even better: ox cheek with the greatest mash ever made, and the sumptuous duck breast was more like chicken liver, with an incredible jus which included ‘taste of the orient’ tea.

At this point, we got talking in depth to the brilliant Jack @mellor282 who, after outlining his Blackpudlian roots, explained the background to the tea and promptly provided an incredible new cocktail he’d created using similar ingredients. After a couple of tastes of Toxteth limoncello (the blood orange was interesting) I opted for the cheeseboard which was amazing; servers Ben and Jack both shared their favourites and then we couldn’t decide on our own.

All in all, a beautiful couple of hours amidst similar decor and we will definitely be back!

Normally, I try to end in a positive but whilst completing this post on World Book Day the news filtered through about Shirley Hughes. Obviously, what’s going on in Ukraine has much more importance on a global scale but the sad news about Shirley had personal resonance because she was present at my postgrad graduation back in 2004, signing my programme and admiring my pencil tie, and whilst I knew her work from childhood it’s only since becoming a parent that her Alfie series of books fully resonated.

Big boy Ian Barger, and the Christmas book when Alfie helps buy his mum some earrings, are staple favourites in our house all year round and I was saddened when Frank Cottrell Boyce tweeted the news of Shirley’s death (especially as he himself had done a reading at the equally sad event I referenced earlier) but I can’t end this there so will just say we’ll read her books more than ever before from now on and finish with showing how we celebrated World Book Day:

Its exactly ten years this weekend since the ‘burial of my life as a boy’ meaning that my next offering will be a reflection on a decade of domestic bliss as we celebrate in fine style with family members and old friends alike, hopefully feeling at home and luckier than ever.

Novaturient , Scriteriato & Fugazi Shibboleths

Happy new year to you all.

Much has happened since last we blogged, so this post is a quick recap of the end of the year, the year itself, and then a look forward… all very Samantha Janus.

The month of November started with an emotional but enjoyable trip to town and an epic steak at the Duke St Food Market. The long awaited couches finally arrived (tip: don’t use Sofology) and I was able to sit comfortably at last and watch three excellent Italian football themed productions: the Maradona docudrama (very true to what I imagine his life to have been like) on Amazon Prime; Paolo Sorrentino’s incredibly beautiful Hand of God (in which one character has to make a very difficult decision) and Road to Wembley, the fantastic Italy documentary which told the story of their Euros win last year. Oh, the last two are on Netflix.

Meanwhile, the Peninsularly theme continued with Gino’s family adventures across the country I love and miss dearly. The sunshine and beauty there contrasted with the drab weather and mood here, what with Omicron and masks returning in a whirlwind of fear. As for wind, one lowlight of Autumn involved that old cliche of waking up to find the trampoline had blown over the fence to next door’s garden, standing proud as if having achieved a full flip of its own.

What larks we had, getting it back over to its rightful home!

The less said for the football at the end of the year the better, too, and the smug arrogance was tolerated with ever growing concern that bigger worries were around the corner. Talking of corners, I spent what felt like a lifetime creating a skirting board for the porch… the angles weren’t perfect and I went through a lot of filler but I was still proud of my work. Anyway, onto the more positive productions, and the fantastic feeling of being able to attend the Wondrous Place opening with friends I’d not seen for ages and the pride of our creation being back on show.

I’m sure I will have written about this before but there’s nothing quite like seeing your work on display, especially in surroundings like this, and the free bar and interesting fellow attendees made it a real night to remember.
Taking the kids and L to see it last weekend was already one of the highlights of this, or any, year… but more of that later.

Which brings me to other viewing and, despite pre-Christmas workload ensuring late night viewing or stolen half hours in the iPad, I really loved Hawkeye (New York at Yuletide? What’s not to?) Joker, Stay Close and the much anticipated Book of Boba Fett.

There were so many other little nuggets over the festive period, including some we watched as a family such as the first theatrical performance by Belle in A Christmas Carol; Disney’s lovely Encanto (but we don’t talk about Bruno) the kids’ nativities of course, and we finally got to a cinema to see a grown-up film together as a couple for the first time in years and were blown away by the beautiful, breathtaking West Side Story remake. It’s always been L’s favourite – and it evoked memories of sitting under Natalie Wood’s dress at Planet Hollywood in Times Square on the same date, many years before – and this version was arguably better.

Then, back to real life and reality, there were the real life observations, especially the street lights switch-on which incorporated a street party and chance to get to know neighbours for the first time in eight years.

It made our home feel even more special in time for the festive season.

However, the most flourescent gem I witnessed over the last couple of months was the final series of Gomorrah which I managed to fit into ten days’ viewing, either after wonderful wife went to bed or I sat next to silently on the iPad with pods in, devouring every word even though I had no idea what it meant, and the double crossing causing confusion but overall embellishing, in my opinion, the best tv series ever: over my lifetime I would have once given that accolade to Rentaghost, Jossy’s Giants, Our Friends in The North, This Life, The League of Gentlemen, Flight of the Conchords, Teachers, Boardwalk Empire… but now, this Christmas, a new title took their crowns.

I sat watching the final episode of serie 5 on said sofa with a Negroni in my hand and tears running down my cheeks, heartbroken at what happened and upon realising that this was the end of a journey I had shared with Ciro and Genny since my first newborn was just a few months old, eight years (well, a lifetime) ago.

I’ve devoured the accompanying music, too, introducing me as it has to the delights of Mokadelic, Franco Ricciardi (whose song in the last episode really made me think of a modern version of Pavarotti’s Caruso) and random Italian rap; the myriad characters (‘O Munaciello and Pure’n’Simple were particular favourites), but also the culture, fashion, architecture, lifestyles, dialect, history, pathos… but now, it was ending. 

As was the year: a funny old year, 2021, featuring many hours’ (and pounds’) worth of house changes; ups and mainly downs in football, but including a fantastic Euros, deepening my love of all things Azzurri; some sadness, which I needn’t go into now; memorably meeting Tyson Fury, and other unforgettable meals and special moments; spending loads on Trickett (no amount can ever be too much!) and a fantastic family holiday in Wales.

But most of all, it was all about spending more time than ever with these three (a picture taken on our first proper opportunity to do a walk to school together on a rare day off)

I started the year promising I’d theme it around Neil Sedaka’s Calendar Girl… I simply have to end it that way, too.

(November) I’ll give thanks that you belong to me

(December) You’re the presents ‘neath my Christmas tree.

Everything was beautiful, and nothing hurt… but fingers crossed the next one is better!

Again, happy new year to you all: I wish you hope…

Nuje vulimme ‘na speranza; Hope is all we need to live a better tomorrow.

Quodlibet

Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans, said a great man once, and the past few weeks have proven that theory tenfold.

Birthdays make for a busy September and this one was no exception, with days out at the Ribble Valley Train Museum (a step back in time) and visiting both Cathedrals; welcome dips into the cultural and spiritual wells. New routines were adapted to, generally quite positively, and new normality felt, well, normal but with a distant threat never too far away.

New regimes, too… by and large. Everton have remained a bundle of contradictions, literally from the sublime to the ridiculous, and as great as it was to watch a couple of games uninterrupted in an actual pub, I couldn’t wait to make my return to a ‘live’ match for the first time in 23 months and still enjoyed it immensely despite the disappointment of the surreal score line and toxic atmosphere at the end which took me back to 1994. I love that we’ve recently been announced as one of the three most ‘vulgar’ fan bases who swear the most.

UTFT indeed.

Thankfully, such sporting underachievement was tempered by two brilliant boxing bouts especially the Tyson Fury v Deontay Wilder fight I watched quietly under the bed covers at 5 in the morning. I felt a bit responsible for his victory to be honest, having wished the Gypsy King well for the fight when we met him in the summer. Something of a benevolent voyeur, I was, which funnily enough was the name given to an article on a photographer I was kindly sent an article about recently and was blown away by some of Elliott Erwitt’s work, which were instantly familiar but felt like a new discovery. What was amazing is that I even happened upon a picture of him picking his nose next to a statue in Rome which I also stood next to, not picking my nose, in 2004.

Talking of looking at things differently, the work on the house neared its conclusion and new series were enjoyed not quite in comfort yet but in much more inviting surroundings (literally) as weekends were spent painting and evenings admiring the outcomes. Hilarious Brassic, the surreal and gripping Squid Game which took the world by storm (and I really loved, especially the impressive set pieces, but won’t spoil for anyone yet to join the red light green light party) upcoming returns of Temple and my favourite Gomorrah, make the cosier, darker nights all the more enticing.

Not entirely unexpectedly, the real highlights of this past couple of months came over half term. A chance to rest, but also do things we’d been looking forward to for ages. A visit to see the new Merseyrail 777 Trains, which I’d enquired about for junior’s birthday, and finally a chance to get onboard (and sit in the drivers seat, learning all about the controls and cameras) which was an unforgettable experience for all involved.

Talking of which, my new favourite restaurant and a delayed birthday celebration courtesy of my wonderful wife and the nearly as equally talented Ellis Barrie at Lerpwl. She had opted for the Capricious menu and I was delighted to see that, as the name would suggest, the menu changes almost daily. We had had an aperitif in the stylish One O’clock Gun next door – an Albert Dock gin for me, in fact – so were more than ready for the culinary journey to Wales and back we were about to embark on and then were even more excited to be offered a kitchen table to see how the magic was happening and engage in conversation with the great man himself, who I’d watched in countless episodes of GBM and even the reboot of a childhood staple, Ready Steady Cook.

This was how I felt walking in and seeing the great man at the pass:

The oysters were incredible, the treacle sourdough too. Other standouts were the mackerel, with its deep green accompaniments, the curried crab accompanying the hake, and the large glass of Plexus as recommended by the chef himself. The real favourite was my first ever taste of the wild mallard, a more ‘gamey’ duck, served and explained by Barrie himself. This was a really nice extra touch, that the chefs largely deliver the dishes themselves, or the maitre d’ or the barman, giving the place a fluidity and informality I cant remember noticing as much anywhere else.

As it was a special occasion, I also opted for the cheese course – again, like nothing I’d ever eaten before. The mix of truffle, Welsh blue cheese and a crispy frangipane tart sounds crazy and has to be truly tasted to be believed. The final course, a chocolate and banana extravaganza, was the perfect way to end a luxurious, somewhat decadent two and a half hours of being spoilt.

We will definitely be back, hopefully for our tenth wedding anniversary next year, when I will have fixed my collar…

To walk off the heavenly fare, we visited the new show at Tate Liverpool featuring the eclectic work of Lucy Mackenzie, some very ‘me’ works which also introduced me to the term ‘Quodlibet’. What with the trompe l’oeil notice boards, the collaged posters, the gymnastics performances, it reminded me I used to be an artist… talking of which, there’s exciting Mann Island-based news coming next time!

Honourable mention too, to to the groundfloor-based interesting installation by Emily Speed: Flatland, inspired by the 1884 novella which reduced women to thin, straight lines. Thankfully, this one hasn’t!

I vowed at the start of the year that these blogs would be based on Neil Sedaka’s ‘Calendar Girl’ and recently re-watched this amazing performance; this is perhaps the most serendipitous of the links therein.

(September) I light the candles at your sweet sixteen

(October) Romeo and Juliet on Halloween

(November) I’ll give thanks that you belong to me

As well as mine and my son’s (note the acrostic) birthdays, my godson, one of my proudest creations, recently turned sixteen. Halloween came and went; Bonfire Night too, and I felt particularly grateful and appreciative after a (somewhat oxymoronic) busy and restful week off.

Then, before we knew what had hit us, John Lewis released yet another advert; a postmodern ET, one of my favourite films, and the countdown to Christmas was on.