OK a bit of a cheat’s post but I’m sure you’ll forgive me.
The above collage sums up Staycation 2016 – bare feet, coffee, cinnamon bagels, writing, some typing (yes, I’ve begun the typing marathon that will become Bonded Souls …eventually!), a couple of cocktails, some photography, some great live music and , of course, several pairs of Converse!
Posted in Uncategorized
Tagged #amblogging, #amwriting, #blogging, concert, concerts, creative writing, friends, humour, live music, memories, music, photography, rock music
One question I’ve been asked on numerous occasions since unleashing my Book Baby on the world is – Is Rehoboth a real place?
Yes it is and it’s one of my favourite places on earth.
( https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rehoboth_Beach,_Delaware )
I first visited the small city in the exceedingly hot summer of 1980, during my second family holiday to visit family in the USA. I was only ten years old but the town captured my heart. Little did I know then but it would be twenty four years before I’d be back.
The first time I’d visited the States, I’d been four years old and we’d spent a few days near Ocean City, NJ. Among other memories that stood out for me from that first trip were memories of walking in the cold sand under the boardwalk and of walking on the boardwalk itself. Aged ten, I was keen to see the ocean and the boardwalk again.
During that first trip to Rehoboth, we stayed in a rented house for a week, splitting our beach time between Dewey Beach and Rehoboth Beach. My recollections of the beach near the town of Dewey Beach are that it was beautiful but it reeked of dead smelly horseshoe crabs. There were piles of them at the back of the beach. The smell was awful! My memories of Rehoboth smell much sweeter!
The town beach at Rehoboth was fabulous to the ten year old me. I loved playing in the ocean swell, “jumping waves” with my aunt, and later in the day, visiting the shops up on the boardwalk. A couple of times we came back into town after dinner and walked the boardwalk as the sun set.
Memories of salt water taffy and fudge and of T-shirt shops selling souvenirs and hermit crabs filled my beach dreams for over twenty years.
Roll on until 2004 when I returned to America to visit my relatives but this time I arrived as an adult (well, as close as I’m going to get) and the mother of two small children. I made a special request to visit Rehoboth while we were there.
My memories from 1980 were of clear blue skies and blistering sun. When I returned to town in July 2004, the skies were over cast. By the time my cousin had parked his beaten up old van (there’s a whole story about that van that I’ll save for another day) and sourced the obligatory quarters for the parking meter (yes- they still have parking meters in the centre of town), the heavens had opened and we were all soaked to the skin by the time we sprinted into Hooters for lunch.
It didn’t matter to me in the slightest. Even under the black rain clouds, Rehoboth still looked exactly as it had in my mind for all those years. Whew!
The rain had eased up by the time we’d finished lunch so we strolled down the main avenue and along the boardwalk. Bliss! All the shops looked and felt the same, right down to the hermit crabs in their brightly coloured shells.
Since then it’s become a family pilgrimage, when we are lucky enough to be in the States, to spend a day at the beach then come into town for dinner and a stroll along the boardwalk.
Even the drive down from Philadelphia, down the Coastal Highway, to reach Rehoboth Beach and nearby Cape Henlopen has been a ritual. Dover Downs race track is the first major sign, signalling that you are past the half way point in the journey. Each of us has our own personal landmark that we watch out for as we head towards the ocean. There are numerous, now familiar, landmarks apart from Dover Downs. There’s a particular house with its own hangar and, I believe, its own airstrip, there’s a surf-style shop miles outside town selling all sorts of beach inflatables, there’s the first road sign that says “Beaches”, there’s the sign that says Slaughter Beach (that one always makes me smile. I need to visit there someday) then there’s the Rehoboth Beach water tower.
I can see each and every one of these in my mind’s eye as I type this even though it’s been three years since my last visit. Too long!
A day at the shore usually means hitting the sand south of the town where my cousin can drive his truck down onto the sand (after letting a lot of the air out of the tyres), finding a good spot to sunbathe, fish and play in the ocean swell. A good spot to watch for dolphins. After a day in the sun, we pile into the truck and, after re-inflating the tyres, drive up to the bath house a couple of miles up the road for a shower. The bath house is all part of the experience! Sand- filled luke-warm showers. Black biting flies and mosquitos by the dozen and screaming, whining, tired, sun-burnt kids. It’s a great facility but definitely not one of the highlights of the day! However, it gets all the sand, well most of it, washed out the bits that sand should never be in and freshens you up so you look semi-respectable when you arrive in town.
Every time there’s the same scramble for quarters…you’d think we’d learn! Somehow, between us all, we always find enough. At Boy Child’s request, it’s pizza for dinner with a bowl of cheese fries on the side – sinfully delicious! As for the pizza – well it’s worth travelling 3000 miles for!
I try to steal a few moments down on the beach, imprinting the place in my mind until next time round.
We walk the boardwalk, play tourist in and out of the shops, visit the arcade then head back to the truck as the sun disappears and the quarters run out.
Happy days and precious memories.
My high school English teacher once said to me that one way to make my stories more believable and realistic was to write about places and things that were close to my heart.
When it came to choosing a location for my Silver Lake series, there only ever was one choice – Rehoboth Beach, Delaware.
Book Baby aka Stronger Within – book one in the Silver Lake series can be found at-
Posted in Uncategorized
Tagged #amblogging, #amwriting, #blogging, #StrongerWithin, creative writing, family, memories, Rehoboth Beach
It’s been quite some year for gigs around here, especially over the last three months, as some of you may have noticed.
Last night marked the last gig in my 2014 calendar.
In an almost ritualistic manner, I boarded the train to Glasgow, chaperoned by Boy Child, to head off to the O2 ABC (yes- there again!) to see Rival Sons.
The mother in me scolded Boy Child for coming out without a jacket. Who in their right mind goes out in t-shirt and jeans in Scotland in December? Oh, that’ll be my son! Yes, I stood shaking my head in disbelief at his stupidity, as he stood shivering in the queue outside the venue. Muppet!
Rival Sons were fabulous. I had no pre-conceptions as to what they would be like live. I’d been warned that their front man’s voice was beginning to suffer a little as they are nearing the end of their tour. The extra huskiness was evident but, on occasion, seemed to enhance the performance. It was a fantastic show.
If you’ve never heard of this band from California check them out. If you listen to nothing else that they’ve done, look up “Where I’ve Been” and “Jordan” online. Stunning songs.
Like all good things, the show came to an end and we headed out of the venue into the cold and back towards the station, via KFC, in time to catch the last train home. And, yes, Boy Child was shivering again!
At the last count, I think, I’ve been to eleven gigs this year and seen about twenty five bands/artists. Not many by some die hard fans’ standards but no mean feat for me.
Highs and lows then of the 2014 Gig Year? …. Ask me an easy one!
The highs have to be the two Slash shows. After waiting for twenty seven years to see him play live, to now have seen him play twice within a month is a dream come true (as I’ve blogged previously). You just can’t beat standing in that confetti shower while “Paradise City” plays!
The lows came at the first Slash show at the O2 Academy. Being swept off my feet and feeling flung about like a rag doll during the opening three numbers of Biffy Clyro’s set that night was far from enjoyable. Yes, I’ll admit to being too old for that carry on! Getting doused in a cup full of piss later on in the evening was simply disgusting. I get that folk need to pee during a gig, especially after a few beers. I get that some guys are too lazy to make it to the men’s room and choose to relieve themselves into their empty beer cups but what lowlifes then feel the need to fling the full cup into the crowd? It’s beyond revolting. (rant over)
A major high point of the year was taking my baby girl to her first gig. Watching her lap it all up and seeing the look on her face as Halestorm took to the stage was a beautiful sight.(Yes, it was the O2 ABC again) Precious memories. Move on a few months, and seeing her relaxed, happy and smiling in the company of The Conspirators back stage at the Hydro made my heart sing. In fact, seeing both my munchkins (and FB Son) behave impeccably while meeting The Conspirators and Myles Kennedy made me feel very proud to be their mum.
A few friends have shared this year’s musical journey with me and there are numerous memories from these shows that are special. I have to say though that the look on one particular friend’s face after seeing Airbourne play live, and their immediate reaction, was priceless and the memory of it still makes me giggle.
I’ve met some wonderful people through music this year. I’ve made a few friends along the way and yes, been fortunate enough to meet a few very talented musicians. Again, more memories that are oh so very special!
So, when does Rock Mum come back out to play? Not until mid-February next year – and, yes, it’s at the O2 ABC again! Oh, it seems a very LONG way away right now!
Before then though another persona is set to emerge at the end of January – Rock Wife.
The Big Green Gummi Bear’s going to a gig! It will be his first this century. In fact, the first this millennium!
The venue this time? Where else but the O2 ABC!
I can’t wait to see how that one pans out!
Posted in Uncategorized
Tagged #amblogging, #amwriting, #MondayBlogs, concerts, family, friends, live music, love, memories, music, O2 ABC Glasgow, rockmusic
An evening of “Southern Hospitality”- it would’ve been rude to refuse.
“Rock Mum” was out to play this week at Glasgow’s legendary Barrowlands in the company of one other “responsible” adult ( I use the term loosely)and four rock music mad teenagers (one of whom is currently slightly broken after a recent skiing incident).
Our evening’s “Southern Hospitality” was provided by Kentucky based hard rock band, Black Stone Cherry. I’d seen them play a few years ago as the support act for Nickelback so, when I saw this short speciality tour advertised, it was too good an opportunity to pass up.
As we queued outside in the freezing cold and in full view of the band’s tour bus, the excitement began to build. Climbing the stairs up to the “ballroom” only heightened the anticipation. I have to say it is the first time I’ve watched a rock band play a venue with glitter balls on the ceiling, a reminder of the venue’s past history as one of Scotland’s leading dance halls of the 1950’s and 1960’s.
The set list had been chosen by the fans via the band’s Facebook page and was interspersed with several short Q&A sessions. Broad Glasgow accents versus Kentucky Southern drawl proved to be a challenge as the band confessed they weren’t quite tuned in to “Scottish” as they put it but the questions proved to be entertaining and the band demonstrated what a decent bunch of guys they are. One girl asked if they would autograph a t-shirt she had worn to their last Scottish show when she had been pregnant with her first child. The shirt was duly tossed on stage, autographed then personally delivered back to its owner by lead singer, Chris Robertson, who came off stage and into the crowd. A custom made bass drum skin was autographed and raffled off during the evening. The fans did learn one “personal” fact about guitarist, Ben Wells – the name of the shampoo he uses on his long blonde flowing locks. Street cred severely dented there, young man!
It almost goes without saying that the music was brilliant – all the fans’ favourites were played plus two new songs from their forthcoming album, Magic Mountain. From the “dance floor” it was obvious that the band were having a much fun as their adoring fans. Chris Robertson’s face as the whole crowd sang “Peace Is Free” to him was a vision of pride and emotion.
After a full two hour set Black Stone Cherry bade us all a warm goodnight and left the stage to a thunderous cheer. The house lights went up and the PA system began to play Garth Brooks “Friends In Low Places”. Apt.
The highlight of the evening was yet to come.
As we headed towards the exit, I spotted the band’s drummer, John Fred Young, standing at the side talking to someone. With that huge mop of curls you couldn’t mistake him! Distinctly out of character for a normally shy me, I went over to speak to him. I thanked him for a fantastic show and was rewarded with a very sweaty hug and a kiss. Happy Rock Mum!
The kids had followed me over somewhat shyly. I stood back and watched them chat politely with the tired musician, get their tickets autographed, when someone eventually tracked down a pen, and their photos taken.
Sharing in their excitement and enthusiasm for having met one of the band and listening to their “star struck” conversation, as we headed wearily home, made me a very proud “Rock Mum” to all four of them.
Definitely a night where we all enjoyed Black Stone Cherry’s personal Southern Hospitality. Thank you, gentlemen.
Posted in Uncategorized
Tagged Barrowlands, Black Stone Cherry, family, friends, hospitality, memories, mum, music, pride, rock music, teenagers
My name is Coral and I’m a photo-holic. There I’ve confessed!
I never leave the house without a camera of some sort, invariably my phone. If I go for a walk I usually take at least two cameras. I can’t go for a walk – or anywhere for that matter- without constantly looking for that special photographic opportunity. It drives my family insane!
I love photographs both taking them and browsing leisurely through them. My personal 2013 creative challenge was to produce a Facebook photo album – 365 Days of 2013- featuring a different photo taken each day of the year using the camera on my phone for convenience. I was proud to complete it- first New Year’s resolution I’ve ever stuck to. As the year wore on I feel that the standard improved and I learned to look at the world around me in a different light. Now less than two weeks into January 2014 I’m missing taking my “photo of the day”.
It was only recently I discovered the true extent of my photo habit. I was fortunate enough to be given a new laptop for Christmas ( thank you Big Green Gummi Bear) and spent quite some considerable time transferring across nine years worth of digital images from my dying netbook.
Before the digital photography age I still shot more than my fair share of photographs. I must have spent a small fortune over the years on developing costs and photo albums. Do you remember the Doubleprint envelopes that fell out of Sunday supplements and were found on stands in airports? Truprint? Bonusprint? Yes- I’ve made good use of them all in my time. I loved the Doubleprint ones – a 6×4 image plus a wallet sized copy.
I have a tendency to be OCD about my photo albums too and have religiously chronicled my trips to the USA over the last ten years. When the munchkins were little I shot at least one roll of film a month- frequently more- and have memories their formative years stored in album after album. I’ve even wallet sized albums for the wallet sized copies from Doubleprint.
It was discovering one of these tiny albums of precious memories that inspired the poem below. (It was was also my first poem to make it into print)
Passing Childhood
Photos found at the back of the drawer.
What was I actually looking for?
A smiling toddler with white blonde hair
Fond memories swirl round in the air.
All the long years have now flown by
My white blonde boy no longer shy.
A smart young man who excels at school
Now facing a world that is his to rule.
And just how many digital images found their way onto my new pc?- 32356 to be exact and I treasure every last one.
Now where did I put my camera……
Choosing where to start this journey has been pre-occupying my thoughts over the last few days. I’ve kept returning to the same starting point and repeatedly dismissed it as too personal but then again…..
People pass through our lives on a daily basis. Some slip by unnoticed while others leave a huge footprint in our hearts. One tiny little lady who left a huge indelible mark on me and on many others was my Wee Gran. I could ramble on for hours reminiscing about her but won’t ( I may share more tales at a later date – we’ll see)
One thing that always struck me was the amount of change and progress she had seen in the world she lived in. Born in the Outer Hebrides of Scotland in 1902 she saw two World Wars, lived through the reigns of four kings and a queen, saw man land on the moon and saw technology that we take for granted evolve beyond belief. Simple things that we wouldn’t give a second thought to created memories that lived with her forever. I remember we asked her once when did she see her first car. She thought for a moment or two before replying ” I don’t know what year it was but it was a Tuesday.”
“A Tuesday?” we echoed.
“Yes I was on my way to the prayer meeting.”
Do you remember the first car you saw? I don’t.
There’s a myriad of similar tales. A lifetime of memories left behind by this little lady. And to those who had the good fortune to know her – who will ever forget the taste of her pancakes?
One of the most heart breaking moments of my life was the day I walked into her house to visit as usual and she didn’t know who I was. Even now over nine years later there are tears in my eyes and a lump in my throat as I remember the scene. Old age had finally caught up and stolen away the Wee Gran I knew and love, leaving behind a frail, scared, old lady. I only saw her another twice after that day (it was too hard- and selfishly I wanted to keep my wonderful memories of her intact). She passed away a few months later a month shy of her 103rd birthday.
The poem below was written a very long time ago. I don’t often write about those dear to me for fear of offending or embarrassing them. I feel though that this captures my memories of this very special lady –
My Wee Gran
She sits in her big red armchair, hand touching her left ear
Eyes alert. Swift look at the clock-
It’s not lunchtime- yet.
Up since dawn she stifles a yawn
Ankles crossed- feet twitching slightly
Two clocks tick- only one is wound nightly.
The wireless is on- it’s McGregor again
A daily ritual in number nineteen
Memories flicker into conversation as a man tells of the death of a generation.
She dresses plain- no jewellry to be seen- only her slim wedding band.
She starts to talk using her hand.
Jumper and pinafore- uniform- regulation blue cardigan- well worn
A smile leaps to her lips- more memories into conversation
Two clocks still tick.
Now it’s lunchtime- the ritual is at an end.
Up she gets- wireless switched off- McGregor is finished for today.
It will be on again next day.
The big red armchair stands empty
Into the kitchen my wee gran’s away
Coral McCallum 