Sweet like Sugar, Tasty like a Rave

I was in one of those clubs the other night – you know, the ones that are crowded with tipsy hen parties, jostling feathers for a bit of space on the dance floor to call their own. And possibly a man, too. Feather boas, stiletto heels and cowboy hats rule the roost, and the drinks don’t come in at less than £10 a pop.

It would stand to follow (although possibly not in a straight line), that the music getting the best response from the braying crowd would be cheese-flavoured eighties classics and sickly sweet r&b anthems – not my usual choice of ear candy on a Saturday night. Instead, it was the intermittently dispersed great lashings of bassy clubland sounds that had the whirl pool of lipglossed-up dancers cheering with excited glee and nearly dropping their tequila shots. Base was in the place London.

Looking around, save for the multitude of pink sashes with their ‘I’m getting married in the morning’, slogans, and the fact that half of Ann Summers appeared to have escaped from Oxford Street and was making its bid for freedom on the dance floor, this could have been any of the ravey nights I’ve been to recently. For a second, I was transported back to Islington’s recent Drumatics night – my mind wavering through the slightly hazy memories. As the DJ blasted Labyrinth with the bass ramped up, it was apparent that this low down and dirty noise was what was really turning the Saturday-night shockers on, regardless of who they would end up going home with.

Far be it from me to suggest the scrapping of all music non-related my favourite type of warehouse floor-fillers – but what the crowd wants, the crowd usually gets. For the moment then, it seems it’s time to dust of the sugar, turn the auto-sound down, and crank up the dizzy beats to all new lows. It’s clear we all just want to go to the rave.

Something Borrowed, Something Blue

Someone’s been weaving together a heady mix of blues, booze and banter, and dragging it aloft through Hammersmith, like a blushing bride. It’s not me though, you’ll be pleased to note – come on – you know I’m not from round those parts (north London, this one, through and through).

Whilst we’re on the topic of blushing brides then, it’s actually the Lyric theatre, and more specifically, ‘Kneehigh’ – an ever-evolving theatre company – who’ve been scattering a trail of a soul-wrenchingly beautiful musical sparkle behind those ushered into their production of ‘The Wild Bride’.

Filled from start to finish with bluesly tones, tortured moans and melodious wails, the new production from the Cornwall-hailing company is an exploration of humanity’s darker tendencies that doesn’t take itself too seriously.

If you like a bit of that, then you'll like a bit of THIS - 'Ain't Nothin' But' bar on Kingly Street, just behind Hamley's....Saunter over after work and shoo-be-doo your troubles away

Part-urban legend and part-folklore, the tale is presented in an all-singing, all-dancing shiny package, unfurling its glittering bows to reveal to us a rough-edged and ragged father, who, blinded by greed and alcohol, sells his own daughter to the Devil.

We follow this daughter’s rampage through life following her betrayal – as she sheds her childhood and seeks survival however possible.

Holding the audience’s attention from start to finish, the multi-tasking team tackle violins, soulful vocals, audience participation and even a giant aging apple tree. Whilst its gargantuan branches hold props and storylines aloft, it is evident that it is the ‘Kneehigh’ cast who entrance the spellbound audience.

 To quote another forest-dwelling figment:

“If we shadows have offended,                     

Think but this, and all is mended,

That you have but slumber’d here,

While these visions did appear.”

 

 ON THIS OCCAISION THOUGH, IT’S TIME TO WAKE UP THIS MORNIN’, AND SING THE BLUES…

 

Wedding gifts at the ready – more info and tickets HERE:

http://www.lyric.co.uk/whats-on/production/the-wild-bride/

Been There, Done That, Seen The Trailer

Compressed Cinema…

This is one for the film fans. There’s nothing better than a Sunday afternoon spent folded into a well-sat seat, as you blitz your hangover into cinematic oblivion, one special-effect after another. Selecting your favourites from the pick-and-mix, or making that close-call between sweet or savoury popcorn (or like me, always wanting the best of worlds, going for half-half – try it!). I love that excitement of settling into your airplane-like chairs, while the smell of popcorn wafts around like a fragrant air hostess, as you wait for lift-off into the movie kingdom…

 

When money’s tight however, sometimes it can be a toss-up between two dresses (one of each colour of course) from Primark, or a couple of hours of expertly-crafted screen entertainment. Well-planned outings can’t win against impulse buys, so it’s onto the floor with last month’s skirts, and onto the hanger with the shiny new purchases, all sitting pretty while the purse sits empty, devoid of a tenner for trip down to the Vue, or better still the Prince Charles or the Phoenix.

I like to check out a film’s trailer before I hit the cinema – it’s always useful to know what to expect, or whether to bring a cushion to hide behind. However, in the above situation, when I’ve had to pass up a movie trip, my first impulse has been to watch the trailer again. And then again. And then maybe just one more time, because I really like the part where he kisses her….Watch a finely put together trailer enough times and you’ll actually feel like you’ve seen the entire film. What’s even better is that this method of film-watching allows you to fill in the gaps with you own stories and interpretations. So who needs the cinema?

Here are my top picks of trailers that offer a hearty part of the film itself and build up the old suspense and drama in a full-length manner. Say hello to http://www.imdb.com/. Get lucky with a comedy and you can hear ALL the good jokes from the entire film. Tightened purse-strings aside, we’ve got busy lives daaaarlings – so welcome to Cinema Compressed…:

Weekender – Check out the below for the shortest rave ever, at under 2 mins. Don’t think they managed to squeeze the sex scene into this one, but even so, it’s a fun ride!

Holy Rollers – I ws so excited about this film that I actually watched the trailer about ten times before it was released. The full version itself just about lived up to my high expectations:

One Day – It might have been PMT, but this trailer actually made me cry. Having read the book and had my little emotional release, I definitely don’t think I’ll bother seeing this one at the cinema:

A Quick Note on Compressed Cinema Film Snacks

Any attempt to eat an entire bowl of popcorn or shlurp a large coke while trailersurfing will fail – Compressed Cinema isn’t designed for this type of commitment. Instead choose quick-to-consume items such as a single cherry, a grape, or even better, a vodka shot. Cheers!

Peekabo, Kigu…

What’s large, furry and covered in glitter?

If you were in Huntingdon this weekend then you’d already know the answer. SecretGardenParty, back for its eighth year, stamped its monster shaped mark on Cambridgeshire yet again – and on those who, came, saw and conquered the garden.

Were you one of the full-to-capacity crowd who trampled down the sodden grass on Thursday and Friday to hoist your tent up in the stormy weather? Then right now you’ll probably be wafting slightly dazed through your day job, or recovering on a sofa somewhere. And like me, you’ll be sad that’s it’s all over for another year (although your body is probably grateful for a shower, a bed and no more alcohol!)

A medley of beautifully choreographed performances, surprise DJ sets and shocking installations, Secret Garden Party certainly holds its own on the festival circuit. Known for being a mayhem-filled few days, its party atmosphere, array of acts and ‘anything goes’ attitude sets it aside from other festival experiences. Where else would you find Blondie playing Atomic on the main stage, while back near Centre Camp two naked girls dance non-stop in the doorway of the sauna tent, in the biting cold? And where else could you take advantage of a free tent postal service (with an 80% success rate apparently – although our flirty postcard to the guys camped by the stripy gazebo never arrived…). Talking of flirting, Secret Garden hosts its own Flirt Tent – drop by and ring a number according to your preference, fetish, or desire…Someone, somewhere, will pick it up and flirt back.

Bringing Blue Peter to a field near you

Strolling slowly tent-wards one evening, while feasting on a delicious potato and spinach concoction from one of the many food stalls, we noticed a lone phone box by a tattered sofa, labelled with Flirt instructions. As the phone started ringing, the penny dropped. I was about to rush towards it, but two earnest guys got there first, eager to get their flirt on. Enjoy boys…

Daytime at the festival tended to be a slightly chilled out affair – depending on how hungover you were there was a choice of lazing about watching acts such as reggae DJ David Rodigan rock the Great Stage, twirling a hoop about and attempting some tricks (without hitting your mate on the head with it), or ambling through the many stalls. Vintage clothing proved a tempting pull, while the Secret Salon and facepainting stands were key spots to glam up for the evenings. Things hotted up when the weather cooled down – night-time was a whirl of Kigu-outfitted partygoers twirling to techno, leopard-printed girls dancing to dubstep and dreadlocked boys shaking it to the sounds of a saxophone. The Dance Off arena knew nothing of the binds of time however. Pumping out sounds throughout the day, this area was always filled with a bouncing crowd hoisting themselves up onto the surrounding haystacks. Throughout the festival, brave contestants could take part in the infamous ‘Dance Off’ challenge, where two groups are pitted against each other in a fight for the Dance Off crown. With the choice of ‘bounce’ or ‘jump’ tunes, the wilder the moves the better – the cheering/ jeering crowd decide the winner.

This year the festival’s theme was Origins and Frontiers, the aim to ‘explode the obligations of tomorrow and the burdens of the past…to embrace the exhilarating unity and freedom of the now’. Saturday’s night’s display, one of many showy and strange happenings choreographed specially for festival-goers’ pleasure, realised that aim. As the crowd watched the giant dragonfly which floated on the lake be burnt ceremoniously to music, amid fireworks and candlelit lanterns, nothing grabbed the attention more than the here and now.  The secret is well and truly out – by dedicating itself to brightening up our present, Secret Garden Party has ensured that it’s here to stay.

 

You can also see this article in situ at the fabulous West London Living: http://www.westlondonliving.com/music-clubs . And while you’re there, check out the goss on the who, what, where, when of the Westerly side of London Town…

Smarty Arty Party…

A disused Victorian prison, an old glass and wood merchants and a double-decker bus – not the atypical locations for cutting edge art and design. The end of this month however sees these spaces forming an exciting backdrop for some of the newest and most talented names on the design scene.

 Clerkenwell Design Week 2011 is set to take place from Tuesday 24th – Thursday 26th May and promises to highlight to the rest of the capital what local residents will already be aware of – that this area is a creative hub that deserves to be celebrated.

Doubledecker Bus Mania...What would Boris say?

 Visitors to the free entry event can expect a carnival of creativity that spans the whole of Clerkenwell via an array of showrooms, including the Boss showroom on St. Johns Street and the Humanscale showroom on Northburgh Street, which will also be hosting an exclusive party at the end of the festival, hosed by top dance brand Hed Kandi and Humanscale design.

 (Insert Party Piece here: The last Hed Kandi party I went to started glossily and tipsily at Ibiza’s Es Paradis club…of  course it  ended not quite so elegantly, at a buckaroo bar down the road…thrown spectacularly on the floor, cowboy stylee. So perhaps I personally should steer clear of this one…)

Mind the hole when drunk!

 Rock up and party like an artist – with design experts and entrepreneurs hosting workshops, exhibitions and debates. Join over 18,000 arty-types already signed up –  it’s time to scrawl stylishly on the polka-dotted line, and register for the design showcase of the year!

Register FREE here: http://www.clerkenwelldesignweek.com/

A Dynamite End to March

Under the arches of London Bridge is a strange place. Tarry there a while and you might hear some strange noises…distorted knocks at forgotten doors, or a low mumble of voices. Follow the trail of discarded vodka bottles, chewing gum wrappers and corner shop receipts around arched corners and twisted shadows, and you might just happen upon the clubnight to make your year…

Whirl back a few years and SE1 was the go-to haven/ hellcat spot under the bridge responsible for a thousand misspent memories. Regular party trails were made to Synergy – a carnivalesque night of high, happy hippydom with a nasty edge. After a swerving beautifully into its new name, Luminopolis, it then sped off into club night paradise – gone but not forgotten, leaving an aching, arching gap under the empty, um, arches.

London Bridge lovers soon found respite with Shunt – a theatrical, musical experience, where curiosity bought the crowds in week after week…But it was money issues that killed off this favourite of London’s partycats.

Now a new night could be just the thing to light up the arches once more.

After bringing in 2011 with a Brixton-based mash-up of Annie Mac, Mark Ronson and Five Inch favourite Katy B, Together prepares for an all night takeover once again – and this time it’s taking on the Bridge. On April 2^nd, Together comes to the underground experience that is Cable, armed with an intense soundsystem ready to blow eardrums to dubstep pioneer Hatcha, electronic superstar Girl Unit and new kids on UK scene Mums of Death. Every battle needs it not-so-secret weapon though – the piece-de-resistance that even haters love a little bit. Together’s weapon of choice is none other than the supremely talented Ms Dynamite.

 Recently getting the club kids elated with ‘Wile Out’, and all the other kids excited with ‘Lights On’ (and perhaps pushing them off onto the rocky, rewarding road of dance music obsession), she’s back on top of her game and set to get London reverberating. Doors are open until 6am, so you know what that means (do you? Answers on a postcard please – go on, it’ll be quaint!).

Hey! Debris of the afterparties…glow sticks, cigarette butts and flyers – London Bridge welcomes you back with open arms.  

 

 Go grab a ticket y’all:

Open from 10.00pm – 6.00am  

 

Fully licensed bar until close  

 

TICKET OUTLETS:

www.wefearsilence.com

www.cable-london.com

www.residentadvisor.net

                                                                                                                   Or Call 08444 77 1000

Kiss Me Quick

Blink and You’ll Miss it Art in Kentish Town

Pyjama-clad Saturday souls drift slowly down Malden Road, towards their corner shop of choice, the one where their favourite hangover cure can be purchased at the best price, and where the vendor always extends a warm welcome. Clusters materialise at bus stops, perching on low, grubby brick walls, lighting up the second cigarette of the day, to be swiftly followed by ‘one to make the bus come’. Cheap cafes sit almost empty, save for sole aging men, clad in faded addidas trackies, waiting for their eggs and beans, a murky coffee to accompany. I’m dragging my sorry self shop-wards – down to Camden, to clear a fuggy head of not enough sleep, and one bad dream too many.  

On this particular occasion however, a bright pink distraction stamps all over the grey hue, making a florescent claim on an otherwise typical Saturday. To my left is what seems to be laundrette – but it is bereft of the usual window into a slice of local life – no view of a bustle of mothers squashing varying sizes of jumpers into machines, or bored lone-washers, reading discarded copies of The Sun. No, this launderette’s washing machines have stopped their whirling, and instead the shop front contains a lit-up neon sign of the word ‘I Kiss You’. Trudging along slowly, I stop, shocked. What is this place – a brothel? I look around me – has anyone else noticed? Kentish Town appears to carry on as normal. It is riveting though – this sign in the middle of nowhere – the palest, greyest road for miles – only known to me as the road down to Camden and the home of the best late night sandwich. It glints happily at me – who could help warming to its neon brightness? With its connotations of late night massage parlours, decadent city adventures and red light districts, it jars with the drudgery of the everyday.

 I start to look forward to this part of my frequent trips on the 24 bus, or ambles down Malden Road, as I know I’ll  be greeted by glowing party lights promising kisses. But who are the inner-city fairies responsible for illuminating this little part of London? Well – it turns out that far from being an expensively erected offer of prostitution in a non-refurbished location, this sign of the times was actually made by the queen of trash art herself (and I mean that as a compliment), the one and only Tracey Emin. Created for ‘The Shape We’re In’, an initiative by the Zabludowicz Collection (which can found a few fast strides away at 176 Prince of Wales Road), this piece is part of the art invasion being staged on various vacant spaces around Camden, London and a floor of a New York skyscraper (um…Random?! But I think that’s the point…).

Taking advantage of a Camden Council-led initiative which encourages positive and energising use of empty properties in the borough, ‘The Zabludowicz Collection’ is utilizing unused shops and empty places to encourage the public to find their arty side, in an informal way. 

So next time you’re scurrying about London, take your eye off the prize and cast your mascaraed lashes to the side. There could be a Turner prize nominee’s artwork to your left – so don’t go walking right past…

D’ya really want MORE?

Explore the Zabludowicz Collection’s projects here:

http://www.zabludowiczcollection.com/

“Move Along Please, Nothing to See Here…”

Rosamund Urwin’s Evening Standard-sponsored whinge of the day hit me right where it hurts tonight. Don’t get me wrong, I love a good whine as much as the next drizzle-coping, bus-stop leaning, pay-day waiting Londoner, but this column-length moan was too much to handle, even in a windswept bad mood and clutching one too many carrier bags. Starting off by charting her newly friend-bereft social whirl of evening TV, I knew that something wicked my way came. I got ready to cower in my coveted windowseat on the 168 bus. Has this woman never heard of ITV player or Channel 4OD? Its sole purpose of existance is that YOU, Rosamund, can saunter out into a heaving pub of an evening, and push your way through London hustle to the bar, where your friends will be waiting, Vodka Lime Sodas in hand (yes three capitals are required here – let’s give alcohol some respect please!), safe in the knowledge that Gossip Girl awaits your hangover with excitement, quivering in broadband-stretching anticipation of you pressing ‘Play’ with one hand, whilst reaching for the sick bucket with the other.

Talk about come-to-bed eyes!

In her public execution of twenty-something London life, Rosamund bemoans the inadequacies of our messy little generation, comparing us with morbid pessimism to the beautiful rich, the elegantly wasted and the cheerily musical adolescent characters that inhabit our TV screens.  Twenty-somethings, she implies, have been swept under screen writers ash-covered rugs, along with old VHSs of ‘This Life’ and ‘Friends’, their memories of glittering hey-days all they have for dusty comfort.

Not go all teenage on you, but this is ‘just not faaaaaair’, and it’s definitely not true. The twenty-something isn’t over! We’re just biding our time, gathering research by trailing through a haze of cheap parties ran by friends of friends of friends, houseparties held by strangers, and mysteriously initiated warehouse raves. Just because it’s not being serially charted on television, grotesquely twisted up into a Jersey Shore-esque silicone monster, doesn’t mean that under the surface, the overgrown kids ain’t more than alright. In fact I’d say it was probably for the best – turn the camera in our direction and the nation might get a shock when they realise what we’ve really all been up to….

Wanna know what what got my pretty knickers in a twist? Have a peekette here: http://www.thisislondon.co.uk/standard/article-23921033-why-twentysomethings-are-tvs-forgotten-tribe.do

Ice Breakers

The snow folds itself over London, creasing in all the right places, fanning over bonnets of cars, disguising their price tags and rendering  Skodas like Lamborginisto the untrained eye. Cold weather doesn’t dull clubbing cravings but it does make them much more difficult to act on. Little black dresses covered by layers of jumpers, coats, snoods and woolley hats? No thank you.  But even so, I do need a new soundtrack to get ready to. One that will convince me that all is not lost when snow hits concrete. Winter doesn’t have to be just  a post nostaligic state, a musical pile up after Summer’s flow of festival tunes and ravey anthems. Arm yourself with suitable new sounds set to turn Winter into the new Summer… 

First up DJ Vadim…

The last time I danced to DJ Vadim was way back when – at Camden’s Jazz Café after tanking up on Sazaracs in Bar 55.  2-4-1 cocktails served by the best looking bar men in London? Well it would be rude not to. And sometimes you’ve got to do it like a dude (see below) and get the whisky in. Especially when it comes in an Absinthe rinsed glass.  Time lapse technology leads me to think it was only last week, but various  entanglements, bed hopping and house swapping among those present would all seem to have taken place in the meantime, and so I would estimate it was perhaps a year-and-a-half ago.

As with those nights when you crash around on an alcoholic tidal wave, it’s the feeling which you remember the most – the rushes which accompany those flashes of beat-frenzied perfection – sweeps of sound angels cutting through drearier details and rendering the night a bright white perfect mess. Dropping a crowd of hard-partying sounds on Jazz Café’s hotbed of energy, DJ Vadim and friends sent the evenings’ audience off into the night with good vibes and bad intentions. I went on to Funky Buddha personally, but as they love to say, that’s another story

So on hearing that Vadim is back in town, with a new incarnation of chilled out sounds, twisted scratches and of course, that musical sense of humour, my ears sensed that perhaps this would be IT – the music to propel me through Winter. Its simple really – shove some summer sounds into your brain through your ears and push on through.

As part of his new group The Electric, DJ Vadim hits the UK with ‘Beautiful’.  This new outfit bringing retro grooves, smooth hip hop and soulful harmony to your earmuff-covered ears is made up of UK songstress Sabira Jade and lyric weaver MC Pugs Atomz along with DJ Vadim himself.  Also featuring the honeyed rap vocals of the super talented Yarah Bravo,  this is definitely a single to rouse you out of your frosty mingfest.

Talk to the tape

 

Yarah

If life ain’t feeling so beautiful I suggest re-enacting the video.  Stick this on your head phones, grab a trolley a la Vadim and get a willing mate to push you out of Sainsburys and into the big wide world. Weave through East Ham, bounce through Dalston, imagine it’s Summer as you make your way through Shoreditch – wish away the chilblains, minus fifteen temperature readings  and hunched back pains…. Get your heels out again and assign the sliding to tipsiness – that’s not an ice wobble,it’s  a chemical imbalance.

Never one to resist  a mix, I had to plug this one into your Winter playlist too – the remix by Memory 9 – pure genius and proof that a video doesn’t have to be pimped with cash to make for addictive watching.

 

Post chill time though, its time to ‘Get a lil Cocky’ with Jessie J, and ‘Do it like a Dude’.  Sneak a delve into the deep, dark world of the latest Youtube-to-chart success story. In a dingy underworld, girlies are gyrating in crop tops, moschino jackets and  shaved heads – and doing it like dudes in a deserted church . This isn’t just an attitude problem, this is an attitude army – these guyals have got enough guts to go around – so why not grab yourself a piece of the action:

 Hood down, head up, exhale toxic smoke in Winter’s face.  Fiery enough to melt even an Ice Queen’s heart…

Wanna know more?  Of course you do – curiousity only kills cats, not humans! 

‘Do It Like a Dude’ by Jessie J  is out now. As is ‘Beautiful’ by The Electric ft. Yarah Bravo, on OGS (Organically Grown Sounds).

Check out http://www.djvadim.com/ for more Vadim flavoured treats – including a free Xmas download

Get tickets to The Electric’s album (‘Life is Moving’) launch party on March 12th, with Kid Koala: http://www.soundcrashmusic.com/kid-koala/

 

Hey Rock Chick – Make Room for Rock Dick

Androgyny through Camden-tinted Lenses

Chuck it all together and see what happens – fuck-me stares from boys, envious glares from girls…or shag me peers from girls, and green-eyed boys. Get a bit of both and you know you’ve nailed androgyny. Or maybe you’re just gorgeous. Either way, lately I’ve found my high summer cravings for purty flowery dresses fading as fast as the season’s sun…The need to constantly look like the not-so-secret garden is being speedily replaced with a pursuit of Tom’s Midnight Garden – and mainly because it’s Tom who owns it.

Take trip round Camden on a Friday night – and have peek at the girlies, if you can spot them. Skirts may be short but grey lace-up military boots are flat, hair channels greasy metal front-man chic and oversized leather jackets reach halfway down criss-cross thighs. Rock chick is transforming into Rock dick – and what’s more, the boys are loving it.

It’s the start of the weekend and I’m in Camden’s Lock Tavern, perched in a fairy lit corner comparing views on the £4.50 cider. Does its muscular alcohol content cancel out its steroid pumped price? As I peer tequila-wards for an alternative to power me towards Tommy Flynn’s (far enough to consider what will put the ‘stumble’ in stumbling distance), I notice #lankhairgrownoutundercutbaggyleatherjacket: Alice Dellal. She’s flanked by a boy with a tail on his head – one of those little semi-bob’s I used to sometimes ply my hair into at primary school because my nine year old self couldn’t quite manage a ballerina-style twisted bun. He’s roosting nicely at the bar, winking at her and feeding her cold pieces of pasta. In between bites she’s sucking the face of a floppy fringed tall guy, his long dark waistcoat layered over charcoal shirt, bits of hood, frayed backpack and torn khaki trousers. Merging her rips with his, she looks like she wants to steal his style as well as his lips.

Bleached waves to the left, shaved head to the right...Here she is, stuck in the middle with yooooou

Alice in wonderland...Looking like the perfect biker gent outside the ACTUAL - 'Alice in Wonderland' premiere...

In Camden of course, this is just a variation on a theme. Here, the dark roots of shabbily dyed hues remain. Fishnet tights endure but now they are partially covered by Coco Sumner style denim shorts and battered brogues. The population of Camden’s side streets mingle with Kentish Town skulkers, Chalk Farm smugbies and various weekend high-street wanderers, still wearing the wares of too many market stalls at once, doodling digits on them in the drips of someone else’s beer. On top are placed this season’s key trends – in the jauntiest demeanour manageable, taking the lead from any favoured North London icon.

Coco Chanel would be turning in her grave if she new what her namesake was up to...

It’s clear who’s read the walls of the Hawley Arms for inspiration, and avoided the Daily Mail. We don’t want you looking like Cher now do we? She’s waaay too thin. Oh wait, that was yesterday, now we think she’s too fat! Women these days….But hush, be a good girl and burp in the face of adversity. This Winter, as long as you’ve got the (albeit newly acquired) balls to take the pace, you’ll be skipping through the garden gate when the clock strikes twelve, but whether you look more like Cinderella or the prince is up to you….