Saturday, July 28, 2012

A teensy bit tame - review of Seann Walsh and Josh Widdicombe



Newbury Comedy Festival: Seann Walsh - Seann To Be Wild, and Josh Widdicombe - Further Adventures Of... at New Greenham Arts on Thursday, July 10

I’VE had Seann Walsh on my to-do list for quite a while, but I can’t quite remember why - I probably saw him on a television panel show and was charmed by his easy wit and lovely hair.

But there was something ever so slightly “meh” about the preview of his Edinburgh Fringe show, Seann To Be Wild, at New Greenham Arts last Thursday. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it for a couple of days - it was a reasonably slick performance (taking into account that it was a show in-preparation), there was definitely some funny stuff in there and the material fitted well with the theme (Walsh’s love of alcohol and exploits while drinking).

And then, while watching Alexei Sayle’s book reading at The Corn Exchange on Saturday, a comment made by Sayle about today’s stand-up scene made perfect sense. Preparing for a return to stand-up after a 16 year hiatus, the godfather of alternative comedy immersed himself in the current comedy scene, and concluded that while stand-up comics of today are prepared to reveal all sorts of intimate information about themselves, today’s taboo subject seems to be politics. Sayle’s opinion is that the 21st century UK comedy scene’s world view is a generally nihilistic one, with few comics delving deeper than a Mock The Week level of lampooning of the state of affairs.

And so it was with Walsh - and, to a certain extent, Josh Widdicombe as well, whose material, about the little annoyances and confusions of life (the backstories to boardgames for example) was wider ranging, and so hit more targets than Walsh’s drinking tales, but it just wasn’t that memorable. I am aware that one issue with preparing an Edinburgh show is that the performers have to submit their show title, and even the blurb about it, months before the event, and thus before they have even written it, meaning that their material has to then be tailored to the title, which is probably not going to be an approach that works well for everyone.

I don’t mean to come across as damning here; both Walsh and Widdicombe are very able comics, with the sort of able humour which works excellently on television shows and a confidence in their ability which could see them go far. Theirs is the sort of safe-but-funny comedy which goes down well on a wide scale, and I wouldn’t be surprised if either or both of them make it as big as the likes of Russell Howard and Michael MacIntyre. Nothing to set the world on fire; but two secure pairs of hands.

  • First published in the Newbury Weekly News on Thursday, July 19, 2012

Darby winner - review of Rhys Darby


Rhys Darby: This Way To The Spaceship, at The Anvil, Basingstoke on Tuesday, July 10

I WAS a little bit naughty last Tuesday - slap bang in the middle of the Newbury Comedy Festival, on the night I had the pick of John Shuttleworth at New Greenham Arts, Daniel Simonsen and Dr Brown at Arlington Arts and the You Must Be Joking final at The Corn Exchange,I skipped town altogether and snuck off to Basingstoke to see Rhys Darby (aka Rhysiebabes, as I will always call him). I know, it was treacherous of me, but the opportunity to see a Hollywood actor and the man behind a cult comedy character (as Flight of the Conchords’ Murray Hewitt) in action was irresistible. And I’m a sucker for the Kiwi accent.

I had no regrets about my decision; Rhys Darby’s show - based on his book of the same name - was delightful. A constructed piece of theatrical performance rather than pure stand-up, the show looked back at a number of crucial incidents in Murray’s early life which may - or, may not - have led to him being one of the chosen ones to be evacuated into space as a human worth saving when the world ends. This construct wasn’t terribly well explained at the beginning of the show, but no particular matter - it wasn’t Brecht, so I suspect most audience members who hadn’t read any pre-show blurb picked up the general gist pretty quickly.

The show was introduced by Darby in character as Bill Napier, a Kiwi wildlife ranger (and Darby’s alleged security guard), bearing an uncanny resemblance in appearance and tone to Home & Away’s Alf Stewart, whose powerful “tree of life” salute is bound to be a hit among the kids in the know by the end of the year. Napier was a lovely character, and I would have been quite happy for him to stay on (although I presume that providing your own warm-up must have some downsides for a performer), as “proper” support act, fellow Kiwi Jamie Bowen, was a surprisingly fast talker for a Kiwi (who I always thought to be laid-back in dictation), meaning that some of his jokes and ukulele -backed lyrics were rather swallowed up in The Anvil’s auditorium.

Back as “himself”, Darby launched into the space-set look back on key moments in his life as a socially awkward child and teenager - basically a showcase for his physical comedy, sound effects, mime and and dance skills. I really must read his book to see how he manages to tell the same story in print. The moral of the story was the rather sweet (if not entirely printable) motto: “Keep being yourself, and eventually you’ll find someone who digs your s**t”. Bless. What a potty-mouthed darling Rhysiebabes is.

  • First published in the Newbury Weekly News on Thursday, July 19, 2012



Sunday, July 22, 2012

Peeking into the box of tricks - review of Barry & Stuart : Show & Tell




Newbury Comedy Festival: Barry & Stuart - Show & Tell, at The Corn Exchange on Friday, July 6, 2012
SHORTLY after returning home from Barry & Stuart kicking off the Newbury Comedy Festival with their magic show at The Corn Exchange on Friday, I received a message from local magician Robert Bone, saying “Now you know how to do it all, I guess I’ll have some competition...”

In fact, the Scottish duo’s inspired schtick of revealing the secrets behind their trickery in the second half of the show gave me an increased respect for magicians’ mastery. Far from it all being about sleight of hand and quick wins, the amount of thought, time, inspiration and sheer effort which goes into the creation and perfection of each trick puts it even further out of the reach of us Muggles, and brings in an extra element of wonder and amazement.

Marginally less gory than some of Barry Jones & Stuart MacLeod’s previous shows (there was still a fair amount of fake blood being thrown around, though), the emphasis was firmly on demonstrating - and then revealing the secrets behind - some of the pair’s most ingenious tricks, one of which had taken them six years to prepare for performance. So it was less about the smoke and mirrors, and more about secreted technology, clever use of chemistry, magnificent memory techniques, and an au faitness with the workings of social media.

The explanations didn’t reduce the tricks themselves to a let-down, as there were none that I for one could have second-guessed (I’m sure that Robert Bone could have a good go, but I’m looking forward to testing him on that). OK, there was one exception - a feat of memory by Jones had a perfectly reasonable explanation (he used the devastating power of... his brain), but was no less impressive for it.

The “reveals” also showed how well Jones and MacLeod work as a double act; while Jones’ particular strength is his memory feat, MacLeod’s is his nimble finger work, making short shrift of any sleight of hand required. It makes for an excellent, fun and very entertaining pairing, and despite their statement at the beginning of the show that “tonight, we are going to be ending our careers”, I doubt  that will be happening for many years to come.

  • First published in Newbury Weekly News on Thursday, July 12, 2012



Sunday, July 15, 2012

Hard at it - interview with Adam Kotz from Case Hardin




AN acclaimed British alt country band with extensive local roots, Case Hardin are playing ACE Space in Newbury on Friday, July 20. CATRIONA REEVES spoke to band member, Newbury resident, actor, musician and ACE Space chairman ADAM KOTZ about the band and his many other hats.

CATRIONA REEVES: Case Hardin are definitely making waves on the alt country scene, with your latest album Every Dirty Mirror receiving excellent reviews and national BBC radio airplay. How would you describe the band’s sound?

ADAM KOTZ: The band was formed by Pete Gow - who until recently lived in Thatcham - who writes songs that echo the best of the American alt country scene, and artists like Springsteen and Steve Earle, but mixes it all up with a highly original British take.

We’ve played in the current line-up [Pete, Adam, Tim Emery, Andy Bastow and Jim Maving] for more than three years now, and we seem to able to take on different styles from stomping rock to ballads and story songs - as we hope the album shows.

CR: Pete’s job as a TV journalist has taken him to war zones in Iraq and Libya in recent years. Do his songs relate to these experiences?

AK: Some do directly, others more obliquely; but he also writes beautifully about lost love and hard drinking.

CR: What is your role in the band?

AK: Well, I weave my mandolin and banjo through the tunes, as well as singing backing and some lead vocals.

CR: Have you always combined being an actor with making music?

AK: Not always. I’ve played on and off in bands in between acting jobs but it’s particularly great when the two combine. For example, I started playing mandolin while playing the music teacher in The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie at the National Theatre in the ’90s. I’ve sung and rocked my way through a fair few theatre and TV shows as well, and written music as well – I even wrote a TV theme song back in the ’80s! My first job was the TV play Oi For England, about a skinhead band.

CR: You’ve done a lot of screen work, haven’t you?
AK: I’ve done a lot of theatre too, particularly at the National and with Cheek By Jowl, and I’d love to do more, I miss it, but it’s harder to fit in with family life.

The most well known films are probably The Last King of Scotland [he played Gillian Anderson’s husband - or, as Adam puts it, “I think you’ll find she played my wife”] and Peter Greenaway’s Nightwatching, and, yes, I’ve done quite a bit of TV too.

As it happens, I’ve just finished being in Henry IV Pt 2 in the new BBC Shakespeare Hollow Crown season  - that was great, swords, horses and lots of shouting. I play Lord Hastings, a rebel who gets his comeuppance.

That was followed by a lovely one-off play for CBBC and a spy drama for Channel 4, so the variety continues.

CR: I’ve noticed that if you turn up in a murder mystery, it inevitably means that you will turn out to be the murderer or a victim - or, on one occasion, both...

AK: Sometimes I am a bright red herring, and I have had my moments as a law enforcer. In Touching Evil I kicked in doors and arrested people - at least until I went off the rails and killed a few people. OK, you may have a point!

CR: So where does ACE Space fit in to all this?

AK: I knew the old RAFA Hall in St Nicholas Road from hiring it myself, and found out it was going to close down. Luckily, the idea to save it drew in a terrific bunch of local volunteers, and we’ve improved it and kept it running as part-village hall, part-arts workshop ever since. We have had great backing from Greenham Common Trust, and donations along the way from Sovereign, MicroFocus, Newbury Town and West Berkshire councils among others.

Especially, we have had amazing support from the many local people who hire the place, come to our events and tell us they like what we are doing. Have a look at www.acespacenewbury.com – we are always happy to welcome new people.

CR: Who else is involved in the gig?

AK: We’ve got support from Des Simmons and the Hired Hands. Des is a great local musician with a great band. Sticks and Strings’ Rick Green is opening the show, and is also well known in these parts. All of us play original music with real heart.

For ACE Space, it is the last event before our summer lay-off after a busy year so we hope people will come to help us celebrate that and enjoy a great night of live music.

Ticket for Case Hardin at ACE Space on Friday, July 20, are £5 in advance (£6 on the door) from Hogan Music in Craven Road and Jacqui’s in Blenheim Road, or call 07905 590 214 to reserve. Doors open at 7.30pm.

  • First published in Newbury Weekly News on Thursday, July 12, 2012


Fingers of fun - interview with Stuart MacLeod (magicians Barry & Stuart)




SPRIGHTLY Scottish magicians Barry & Stuart, the hosts of the BBC show The Magicians, are returning to Newbury for a date at The Corn Exchange during Newbury Comedy Festival, with a show that would probably get them kicked out of the Magic Circle... if they were members.

STUART MACLEOD explained to CATRIONA REEVES why they are breaking down the fourth wall and letting the audience peek behind their brand of dark and gory magic.

CATRIONA REEVES: You’re bringing your Show & Tell to Newbury Comedy Festival - what’s the idea behind it?

STUART MACLEOD: In the first half of the show, we perform a variety of our favourite tricks and some new ones that we’ve been working on over the past year. Then, after the interval, we reveal exactly how we’ve done each trick. The audience have a choice to stay, or leave if they don’t want to know the secrets behind it.

CR: Have many audience members chosen not to stay for the second half?

SM: We don’t think there’s been many, but we have had comments from various house managers that a few people have left, saying that they’ve enjoyed what they’ve seen, but they don’t want to have the mystery spoilt. There’s often a childlike wonder and astonishment about magic, and not everyone wants to lose that.

It was a brave, and probably stupid decision to go ahead with the show, and it was a tough one to write, but how magic works is fascinating, and we wanted to let people in on the secret.

CR: How is the show going down with other magicians?

SM: A lot are really annoyed - many think that the secrets shouldn’t be revealed, so we’ve had a lot of emails. The Magic Circle has a rule that the secrets of magic shouldn’t be revealed, but we’re not members, so they can’t kick us out.

CR: Does doing the show this way present more challenges than usual?

SM: Actually, it means that if something goes wrong with a trick and we have to improvise, it means that in the second half we can explain what happened and how we dealt with it.

The hardest thing was deciding what tricks to include. There are some really great tricks in there, such as turning water into wine. It took us six years to come up with that, and we performed it on television in front of 6m people, so we were a bit reluctant to give that secret away.

On the other hand, the first half ends with an excellent new trick which we’re really pleased with, and again we had a dilemma about revealing that one.

Basically, we came up with a set of rules that we wanted to genuinely show exactly what was going on, and then there was a lot of cajoling of each other to put a really good range of stuff in there.

CR: It sounds like you should be writing a book on the back of this...

SM: There’s a lot of stuff in the show involving mobile phones and suchlike, so we’ve decided that it would work better on the internet than in the book, so we’re currently working on a website, which is where this should all end up.

We’re also working on a couple of TV  pilots at the moment - we’re not going to Edinburgh this year, because we’re devoting time to them.

CR: You and Barry (Jones) are rather like the Ant & Dec of the magic world - do you think you’ll ever work separately, or are you better together?

SM: We’ve been working together for just over 10 years, and we’ve discovered that there’s something about our writing process that means we need each other. We’re two cogs in a wheel that work best together, and we spark off each other. I don’t think we’ll ever work apart.

  • First published in Newbury Weekly News on Thursday, July 5, 2012





Sunday, July 08, 2012

John's Final Footsteps - review of The Berkshire Giant



Photograph copyright: Farrows Creative. For more photos from the event, please visit http://theberkshiregiant.blogspot.co.uk


The Berkshire Giant: John’s Final Footsteps, in Newbury town centre, on Saturday, June 23

THE town had been buzzing all week with the story of John Ever Afraid, with whispers of strange happenings in Aldworth and on Snelsmore Common spreading like wildfire, exacerbated by announcements from milk floats and the distribution of news pamphlets announcing his coming.

And so, on Saturday evening, as darkness fell, a large crowd braved the drizzle to line Northbrook Street to greet the fabled giant, hidden in the walls of Aldworth Church for hundreds of years before finally arising and trekking the 10 miles to Newbury to face his destiny.

His arrival was heralded by a doom-tinged rock & roll band atop a bus, flanked by the devil’s acolytes, stilted skeletal crows who pranced and poked at the crowd as they led the procession through the town and into the Market Place, where the music of a devilish mardi gras band welcomed John himself.

And what a darling John turned out to be. An ungainly figure, with the most soulful blinking blue eyes, he was not to be feared but was himself as timid as a kitten, as he prepared to face his destiny with the devil.

His supporters tried to fight off the acolytes but without success, and John was bowed by his fear, his head in his hands. But through the crowd came the spirit creatures of the forest, - a stag, bear, hare and horse - to save John, festooning him with colour, and bestowing him with antlers of his own.

As John rose back up to the cheers of the crowd, lanterns and fireworks lit up the sky, and a message appeared on the bank building behind him: “I am not afraid anymore”.

Visually stunning, moving, strange and wonderful, this was the culmination of The Corn Exchange’s first large-scale outdoor arts project produced in-house from scratch by creative producer Simon Chatterton, with input from Irish outdoor theatre company Macnas and a host of local volunteers.

The most ambitious project so far in the theatre’s two-year Arts Council-funded outdoor events programme, with additional funding from Greenham Common Trust and West Berkshire Council, it is really quite stunning that a community as outwardly sensible as West Berkshire can come up with something as wonderfully outlandish and beautiful as this.

I don’t know about you, but I rather like the fact that West Berkshire is a little bit weird these days. It rather suits us.

  • First published in the Newbury Weekly News on Thursday, June 28, 2012

Sunday, July 01, 2012

Darby day - interview with Rhys Darby




NEW ZEALANDERS are officially easy-going - it was confirmed in an academic study last year - but I was pushing the laid back nature of a nation, when owing a series of “hilarious” phone-related issues, I was half an hour late in ringing Kiwi comedian Rhys Darby in his Los Angeles hotel room to chat to him about his forthcoming UK tour.

Fortunately, Darby did his country proud, and did not emit a single grump about my tardiness (oh, and apologies to the lady in Newbury whom I unintentionally phoned four times in my attempts to call California. I did wonder why a swanky LA hotel had a receptionist with a West Berkshire accent).  

I’’ve always been a sucker for a Kiwi accent (blame Neil Finn from Crowded House. No, really. In his younger days, he was hot. Trust me.), and as Darby didn’t seem to mind me calling him “Rhysybabes”, as befits anyone with the first name “Rhys”, my fluster soon passed, and much relaxed chat ensued. Well, 15 minutes’ worth of relaxed chat, anyway. I was ringing from my in-laws’ landline, so I had to watch the clock.

And so, with the time ticking away at premium international rate, I got on with the questions...

CATRIONA REEVES: The show you’re about to tour in the UK is called This Way To The Spaceship - and you’ve written a book with the same title as well. What’s all that about, then?

RHYS DARBY: The idea is that when Armageddon arrives, which it’s going to at the end of 2012, the superpowers have got spaceships ready with an invite list of those who will be allowed on board. Naturally, as I’m currently making waves in Hollywood, I’ll be on the list.

But I don’t want it to just be me, I want others to make it on board as well, so This Way To The Spaceship is basically my advice on how to open a few doors at parties, finding the right doors in the first place, fashion tips, conversation advice; how to work your way in with the right people and achieve your dreams.

The book is on the same theme, so the live show is basically the book interpreted through the mediums of physical stand-up, storytelling and dance.

The book has been published in Australia and New Zealand, but at the moment there’s no UK distributor. I’ll be bringing some copies with me though, for people to buy at the show. It kinds of puts a bit of mystique around the book - you’ve got to see the show to buy the book.

CR: Maybe you should give a free copy of the book to each audience member, as part of the ticket price.

RD: Mmmmm.

CR: You mentioned that there’s some dancing in the show...

RD: ... Yes. I have been compared to a sea serpent trying to mate. Off-season...

CR: ... but also, I understand that you include some dinosaur impressions.

RD: Oh yes, I’ve fed a couple of dinosaurs into the show. Not literally. I do a good t-rex, pterodactyl, velociraptor...

CR: Ooh. That could be a problem. We’ve already got a British comedian called Hugh Dennis who does a magnificent velociraptor.

RD: Maybe we should have a dinosaur impression showdown. He can be a velociraptor, and I’ll be a pterodactyl and swoop down on him.

CR: Right. Anyway, you’re best known as Murray, the band manager in the sitcom Flight of the Conchords (shown in the UK on BBC4). There’s been rumours of a film based on the series flying around for ages - any truth in them?

RD: We had a ‘secret band meeting’ a couple of weeks ago, but nothing’s really progressed yet. We want to do something, but it’s down to them [fellow Kiwis Brett McKenzie and Jemaine Clement, the musical/comedy duo who go by the name Flight of the Conchords and write/star in the series], and they’re pretty busy touring at the moment.

CR: So what are you up to in LA at the moment? Schmoozing and swinging your way into the film industry, or would you prefer to do more television?

RD: Whatever tickles my fancy. I like doing TV, because it’s more like a normal job - it lasts longer, and you get to know everyone working on it, so it becomes more like a family. Saying that, I did have a big US sitcom, and moved over here last year to work on it - and it got cancelled after just a few episodes. It was good that it was in a way; it was tightly scripted, with set up punchlines and American fake laughter. It didn’t stretch me. I like things looser and more improvised.

CR: You played one of the pirate radio DJs in Richard Curtis’ film The Boat That Rocked - that had the feel that you were all working as a family and improvising a lot of the time.

RD: We had a lot of fun on that film. We were all on the boat down in Southampton a lot of the time, and when we did our bits on the radio mic, we were really allowed to let lose and do what we wanted.

The most interesting day was when I was thrown in the ocean and nearly drowned. I was meant to be struggling to swim, but the wet suit I was wearing under my costume was making me too buoyant, so they put diving weights around my waist. I really started to struggle - so it may look like really good acting, but actually I was genuinely thinking I was going to drown.

CR: Your UK tour is going to be a far cry from LA - are you looking forward to it?

RD: Definitely. I’m also looking forward to seeing my wife and children who are going to be coming over to the UK for July and August. My two boys are six and two, and they don’t usually travel with me, so it’s going to be great to have them with me. We’re going to see all the sights. Are there any sights to see in Basingstoke?

CR: Yes. There’s Milestones, Hampshire’s Living History Museum. You can dress up in Victorian costumes, and walk around cobbled streets.

RD: Excellent. They’ll love that. We’ll have a ball in Basingstoke. Hopefully the show will be pretty good too.

* Rhys Darby brings his show, This Way To The Spaceship, to The Anvil in Basingstoke on Tuesday, July 10.


  • First published in the Newbury Weekly News on Thursday, June 28, 2012

Friday, June 22, 2012

A Hair-raising surprise - Smudgie pops up in random video on YouTube


OK, so not a complete flukey coincidence - I was searching for clips from an event I distinctly remember attending (the on-stage dance party at the end of the final West End performance of Hair - The Musical in September 2010) when I stumbled across this.

However, it was a bit of a surprise to see me flailing around like the dippy hippy I am on some random stranger's video clip. I guess it's quite nice to be caught unawares in one of the most magical, uplifting moments of your life in some ways.

Newsroom magic - video demonstration by magician Robert Bone


FOLLOWING on from my Out & About feature on magician Robert Bone a few months ago, the man himself popped into the Newbury Weekly News newsroom recently to wow us with a specially-devised trick centred around the magazine article.

I reckon he must have manipulated my mind back in September, when I interviewed him. It's the only explanation.

Watch on, to see me giggling like a little girl.

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

Lovely... have I said that before? - review of Isy Suttie




Isy Suttie: Pearl And Dave, in The Forge at The Anvil, Basingstoke on Thursday, June 6

RIGHT: I’m going to set myself a challenge with this review. I used the word “lovely” or derivations thereof twice in my interview with Isy Suttie a few weeks ago, several times to her face after the Basingstoke show which I will be focussing on here, and a stonking four times in my last review of comedian Jimeoin. I even used it just now in reference to my toddler spooning rice pudding onto her shepherd’s pie. I have decided that I overuse the word, and I am therefore banning myself from using it any further after this paragraph in my write-up of Suttie’s show. Even though it was lovely (there - sneaked it in).

So, armed with a thesaurus, I will attempt to present to you the heart-warming charm of a one-woman show performed by Suttie (best known as Dobby in Channel 4’s Peep Show with a guitar, telling the story through monologue and song of  stifled Northern accountant Dave and equally repressed Surrey housewife Pearl. Having had a near-holiday romance a decade previously, the couple reignite their relationship in the modern manner on Facebook and Skype, finding a mutual bond through an understanding of each other missing from their everyday existence.

Suttie intertwined this imagined story with true (I presume) tales of her own disastrous lovelife prior to meeting her current partner; each relationship beginning with hope and ending with a symbol of doom, from the giant papier mache penguin watching accusingly from the corner of the room, to the boyfriend who took advantage of her sleeping on a train, not to write messages of love on her hand, but to colour it in entirely in black pen.

The telling was interspersed with songs performed in the voices of Pearl (high, rather posh) and Dave (deep, earthy) which demonstrated a delightful lack of self-consciousness on Suttie’s behalf, as her natural tone, showcased on a song written in schoolroom Welsh for her new partner, is actually very sweet.

Like master storyteller Daniel Kitson, the magic of Suttie’s performance was how perfectly truth and fiction interwove, as she was kept in the loop regarding the imagined blossoming relationship between Dave and Pearl through penpal letters from Dave, started in childhood when an addressed balloon freed by Suttie and destined for Australia ended up two gardens away. Such detailed touches made the telling spring to life, and left the audience glowing with delight for both the star-crossed titular couple and Suttie’s own hard-earned happiness. Truly captivating.

  • First published in the Newbury Weekly News on Thursday, June 14, 2012

Monday, June 11, 2012

Going back to your roots - family history feature



Above: 1872 Smith wedding - the bride is Bill's great-great-grandmother, Sarah Smith, and the boy on the far left is his great-grandfather James Smith. The family lived and worked at Wyld Court Farm, Hampstead Norreys

HAVE I ever told you that I’m a direct descendent of King Henry III and Robert the Bruce on my mother’s side? I have? It means I can trace my line back all the way to King Herod, you know. And it makes me a distant cousin of the Queen. Isn’t that fascinating? Where are you going? Come back!

When I first started researching my family tree (to be fair, I already had a general idea about my royal ancestry), it was the big hitters that floated my boat. William the Conquerer? Get in there! Ethelred the Unready? Back of the net! But after a while, all the names started to merge into one, and it all got a bit dull. After all, the theory goes that statistically it’s quite likely that every European living today is descended from the ninth century emperor Charlemagne. Yes, even you.

That’s not to say that I didn’t uncover some interesting facts along the way - I’m a distant relative of Gabriel Cox, the second mayor of Newbury (and thus can claim the coveted kinship to John and Frances West - meaning I could attend Christ’s Hospital school if I really wanted to); and my great-grandfather x 12 was Sir John Hawkins, Admiral of Elizabeth I’s fleet, hero of the Armada, cousin to Sir Francis Drake, and, er, “father of slavery”. Maybe I should keep that one quiet.

However, once I’d stopped being dazzled by these celebrities of the past, I became more interested in looking a bit closer to home, time-wise (I blame Richard Madeley’s episode of Who Do You Think You Are?. That man could turn me on to anything). In particular, although both my parents were children of Reading, it was surprising how many branches of my dad’s tree brought me back to West Berkshire; while on my mum’s side, I found it greatly amusing that her parents, with the surnames McDougall and McIver, and terribly proud of their Scottish roots, were in fact Londoners back through several generations - and with an interesting possible native marriage in India in the mid-19th century which might explain our dark colouring.

While some surmising had to be done without the help of the army of researchers that celebrities on Who Do You Think You Are? have at their disposal, I’ve been able to piece together some interesting life stories; generations of labourers uprooted from their isolated existence in the rural idyl of Chute Forest in Wiltshire to work firstly on the estates of grand landowners such as the Benyons of Englefield (explains why I have an urge to tug my forelock whenever I see our MP) and then into the factories of Reading; the fate of many of our ancestors not so very long ago.

The biggest bombshell for me was the discovery that my grandfather was the product of a first-cousin marriage - probably family-engineered after both parties were widowed and left with children to support during the First World War. Turned out that this was a surprise to no one but me, with the rest of the family having been fully aware of it for many decades. Sadly, his father died just a few years later, leaving his mother with even more children. Unable to cope, she was forced to send her youngest children away from Reading to an orphanage in Hampshire. Fortunately my grandad had happy memory of these years, and he remained particularly close to the brother and sister who had been there with him.

As I got into the swing of my research (aided by useful, if sometimes pricey websites such as Ancestry, Find My Past and Genes Reunited), I expanded to start looking into the family history of my husband Bill. With his mum and dad born and bred in Hungerford and Thatcham respectively, I wasn’t surprised to discover that  both sides of the family can be traced back through West Berkshire and its surroundings for several generations. They included a George Liddiard of Aldbourne, who in the 1830 agricultural workers' uprising known as the Swing Riots, destroyed a threshing machine and was sentenced to 18 months' hard labour in Reading Gaol. He was lucky not to be deported to Australia, the fate of many of his fellow rioters. His absence appears to have hit his daughter hard and maybe she indulged in a little teenage rebellion; by the time George was released, he was unexpectedly a grandfather.

A particular treat was to stumble across the wedding photo of BIll’s Great-Great Grandmother, Sarah Smith, on the Ancestry website, uploaded by another distant relative. I am pretty sure that the boy on the far left of the photo is his Great Grandfather James Smith, another child born out of wedlock to the teenage Sarah. His dark colouring certainly seems to have survived through the generations, although I am glad to say that the women of the family are not so plain these days. James never took his mother’s married name, but did move with his mother and new stepfather from Wyld Court Farm (today home to The Living Rainforest) in Hampstead Norreys, where his family lived and worked as servants and farmhands, to the nearby hamlet of Eling.

Yet another apparently fatherless boy in BIll’s family was his great-grandfather Henry Ainsworth. With a surname originating in the North West of England, it is almost certain that Henry was the first Ainsworth to arrive in West Berkshire. He had spent much of his childhood in a London orphanage before being boarded out to Newbury at the age of 13 in 1887 - possibly to work on a farm, as in the 1891 census he is listed as living as a boarder with the family of a carter called George Hillier at Bradford’s Farm in Speen.

Henry had been orphaned at the age of 10, when his mother, Fanny, died in a London hospital. Other than a record of her death, I have been unable to find out little about Fanny. Was she a Londoner, married to an Ainsworth, or had she arrived in the capital as an unmarried mother from another part of the country, maybe hoping to pass as a widow rather than a fallen woman? Her story will probably never be known.

Fortunately, Henry had a happier ending - he married Mary Cox, a Hungerford girl, and they had five sons and two daughters. Although we know nothing of his experiences as a youthful farmhand, at a time when many of his contemporary orphans were deported to the British colonies, where it is widely documented that they were often badly mistreated, it appears that fate may have been a luckier one. If you meet an Ainsworth in West Berkshire nowadays, it is quite likely that they will be a descendent of Henry, the London orphan.


My great-grandmother Helen Eyles,  born at 3 Englefield Street on the Englefield estate where her parents worked, pictured with all her children. My grandfather, Reginald Reeves, whom my son George resembles, is on the right





FOR those who want to take their family history research a step further, the Berkshire Family History Society offers wealth of excellent resources. The editor of the society’s quarterly journal, Berkshire Family Historian, Penny Stokes, told me more about it.

Catriona Reeves: What do those joining or contacting Berkshire FHS tend to be most interested in finding out?

Penny Stokes: Most people know the basic - dates and places of birth, marriage and death - of their parents, and to a lesser extent their grandparents. From then on, working back to 1837 (the start of civil registration) and 1841 (the first systematic census) seems fairly easy, because so much is online. But the quality of online material is so variable that many people need help in exploring the alternative routes when they can't find what ought to be there, such as a great-grandparent who is unaccountably missing from the census, or a birth which seems not to have been registered.

Before 1837 it gets trickier: you have to search parish records for baptisms, marriages and burials. Some of these are online (again, in varying quality) but many are not. There are of course a myriad of other sources. The society has a wonderful Family History Research Centre in Reading, where members can access a vast range of sources online, on CD, on microfiche and in print. I have no Berkshire family, but I've been a member of Berkshire Family History Society since the early 1990s because the society's resources are so much wider than just Berkshire. 

CR: What have you found out about your own family through your personal research?

PS: I learned that one of my great-grandfathers was Bram Stoker's accountant, and on my mother's side there were some very active Irish republicans in the struggle for independence. So I describe myself as a cross between Irish rebels and Dracula's accountant. I haven't gone back much before the mid-18th century because I'm really more interested in finding out the stories behind the most recent six or eight generations.

CR: A lot of mine and my husband's ancestors were farm labourers in the villages around West Berkshire. Would the Berkshire FHS be able to help me learn more about what life would have been like for them? 

PS: Most people researching family history want to fill in the background of how their ancestors lived, so local and social history play a large part in family history. The Berkshire Family History Society has regional branches (one in Newbury) where monthly meetings are held with speakers, and the topics focus on just this sort of thing.

House history too is a major interest; if your ancestors lived in, say, a particular farmhouse for three generations you'd want to find out about the house too, and as far as Berkshire is concerned the Berkshire Record Office is the place to do that. And it just happens to be right next door to the society's Family History Research Centre in Reading!

CR: Something we have noticed in our research is that there appears to be a fair bit of illegitimacy in our West Berks family trees, with the father being unnamed - more than I expected. Have society members have come across that a lot in their own trees?

PS: There's never yet been a family which didn't have secrets; it doesn't do to be too sensitive or judgmental. Pregnant brides are were very common, particularly in rural areas, where it was almost the norm for a couple to test their fertility before marriage, and disgrace only attached to failing to get to the altar before the birth. If an unmarried father isn't named in the birth or baptism record, he may be traceable in the records of the overseers of the poor, who may have awarded maintenance.

Illegitimacy sometimes arose because of religious dissent - a Quaker couple, for example, might refuse on principle to marry in a C of E church. They could find themselves being reported in the churchwardens' presentments. Other skeletons in the cupboard could be children given away or abandoned, bigamy, a spell in the workhouse, criminality, insanity... Most of these things are on record somewhere. 

CR: Through your editorship of the journal, is there anything unexpected that you've discovered about old Berkshire?

PS: I was surprised to find how local surnames have remained strongly local, despite the massive increase in geographical mobility. West of Newbury there is still a concentration of names like Coxhead, Pocock, Liddiard and Tubb, just as there was in parish registers of the seventeenth century. You can check surname distribution out, comparing 1881 with 1998 on http://gbnames.publicprofiler.org

CR: What advice would you give to those starting to research their families, beyond using the usual websites, and any pitfalls that they should avoid?

PS: Start with all the information you can glean from living relatives. Read a good book on the whole subject so that you understand the sources before you start blundering around on the web (which can get expensive). Don't imagine you can do it all on the web; much valuable information is not online but in record offices, and nothing beats actually getting out and walking the ground that your ancestors walked.

And, of course, join the Berkshire Family History Society, through which you will get a great deal of information and support, not to mention the company of like-minded people.

CR: And what makes it so fascinating for those that do start researching their family?

PS: It becomes utterly compulsive, particularly if you are in the second half of your life, and your parents are no longer alive. Roots are important. Having had an RAF upbringing I thought I had no home town, so I was delighted to find that I was a seventh-generation Londoner. It's as well to remember, though, that almost nobody is going to be quite as excited by your discoveries as you are!

* First published in Out & About magazine, May 2012


Wednesday, May 30, 2012

The Suttie show: interview with Isy Suttie



LOVEABLE comedian Isy Suttie is on tour with a heartwarming show about internet romance and real-life dating disasters. Catriona Reeves spoke to her while on route from Birmingham to Berwick-Upon-Tweed.

CATRIONA REEVES: You’re currently on tour with a show called Pearl And Dave. Are you preparing for the Edinburgh Fringe?

ISY SUTTIE: This is actually the show I did at the Fringe last year, and also on Radio 4. I can’t do Edinburgh this year because I’ll be filming the next series of Peep Show over the summer. It’s actually nice to give my brain a bit of a break - if I had been developing a new show, I would have had to start thinking about it around Christmas.

CR: I thought Peep Show [Suttie plays quirky geek Dobby in the Channel 4 sitcom] had ended!

IS: We had a break from it last year so it hasn’t been on since 2010, but two more series have been commissioned. I’m really looking forward to going back to it. Everyone involved in it feels like family, and David [Mitchell] and Rob [Webb, who play the central characters] are a real laugh.

I’m lucky that I’ve ended up being able to do a mix of things; Peep Show, the touring, and I’m working on a sitcom pilot. I can’t imagine just doing the one thing. Touring as a stand-up can be a bit lonely, although it is a nice feeling that you’ve done it all yourself. 

Luckily I’ve got a support act with me on this tour - Chris Neill, who is in the car with me right now. We’re on our way from Birmingham to Berwick-upon-Tweed. We didn’t realise how far it was until we set off. It’s about a six hour drive!

CR: So tell me about the show Pearl And Dave...

IS: It’s the story of a couple who met at Butlins, then get in contact through Facebook many years later. I perform their emails to each other as songs. Then there’s stuff about my own love life over the years mixed in.

I’ve always performed songs in my shows; I can’t imagine doing something without music, as I’ve been songwriting since I was 11. But it’s taken a long time to get comfortable with a show format where I can fit everything together. Now I’ve found that having a narrative and singing in character really works best for me. It’s a bit more theatrical than what people might have previously seen me do.

CR: Are you planning to take the show further afield?

IS: I’d like to take it to Australia next year. I’ve performed in Australia before, and they’re very comedy savvy over there, so they’re happy to embrace something that’s a bit idiosyncratic. Generally though, I’m not that fussed about travelling. I like to go home to my own bed wherever possible - I’ll be able to do that after the Basingstoke gig.

CR: You seem like such a warm person; do you tend to attract a nice audience?

IS: My audiences are lovely. When Chris and I turned up at the Birmingham venue last night, we got a bit worried because it seemed to be full of rowdy hen parties, but then we found that we were performing in a different room, and there was my audience, with their anoraks and flasks. I was very relieved.

Isy Suttie brings her show, Pearl And Dave, to The Forge at The Anvil, Basingstoke on Wednesday, June 6. Anoraks and flasks are welcome.

  • First published in Newbury Weekly News on Thursday, May 24, 2012

Tuesday, May 29, 2012

Blog posts past: Slummy mummy

Urgh. It’s the end of a week’s holiday from work and I’m exhausted. Pre-child, five days annual leave were a chance to do very little indeed, but this being half-term, the week has been a social whirl of visits to London (involving a fun new game called Avoid the Congestion Charge Zone), swimming (twice), Basingstoke (it’s been a wet week) and Stoke to see the stepdaughter. We considered Legoland yesterday, but even George was complaining that his legs were too tired. Quite a relief, considering the £33 adult entry fee (even Alton Towers is a pound cheaper).

I know that it’s not the law to fill every precious second of the school holidays with relentless fun, but my current job/training involves so much multi-skilling that I’ve forgotten how to relax and just do nothing. There’s also the fact that the average four-year-old needs more entertainment than can be provided in a small house for more  than a few hours at a time. For a start, George doesn’t do creative activities out of choice. I did suggest that he made a Victorian paper doll, an activity on offer at Milestones, but he informed me that was a “school thing”, and he didn’t want to do it during half term. Anyway, it’s my holiday too, and even if I’m spoiling George with too many days out, I want to have fun as well.

The week’s reminded me why I don’t mind being a working mum. Going to work all day is so much less tiring than staying a home with a young person. It’s true that the housework is still undone when I get home in the evenings, but I’ve got the solution for that. I just don’t do it. Ever. The dust will still be there when I finish my training in autumn 2008 and I can hopefully work part-time again. Some of my fellow trainees say that the problem with study days is that they’re distracted by all the things which need doing around the house. For me, it’s the other way round. I only have to plug in the vacuum cleaner for an essay idea to pop into my head, and the housework is abandoned for the computer once again.

The other reason I’d be a rubbish full-time mum is that I’m no good at making small talk with other mums at the school gate. I really struggle to recognise faces (I think there’s a medical name for this, but I’ll just call it “laziness”). So there’s all these mums and all these kids, and I have no idea which one belongs to whom, or who is in George’s class. I even have a problem recognising the kids and mums who came to George’s birthday party. It’s not just a school thing (although how you’re meant to process any sort of face-recognition information or make conversation at 8.50am is beyond me). It hasn’t been unknown for me to walk past my own husband in the street. And when George brought home him class photo, it took two attempts to pick him out.

Luckily it’s never caused me a problem at work because I can usually link someone to the job they do, and where they sit. Although there is a team on my floor who hotdesk. That left me floundering for weeks. Obviously remembering names help, although I’m not great at that, either, which is why I rarely use them when talking to people. I know this is meant to give the appearance of being cold, but I make up for it by smiling a lot. And it’s better than calling someone by the wrong name (although this is something I grew up with: my mum used to regularly call me by the name of my sister, dad, our four cats and the dog before hitting on the right one). *

The only time I find the face-recognition thing a real problem is when I bump into someone I used to know from school (I grew up round here, so this happens quite often). While I don’t have a clue who they are, they always seem to recognise me. While I would like to think this is all because they are devoted readers of my blog, I’ve been told that it’s actually because I haven’t changed a jot since primary school. I guess I should take that as a compliment, but it's probably because I'm still a (speccy four-eyes).


2012 update... and this is why Sophie, my daughter, is named after Sophie, the family dog.

  • First published on www.newburytoday.co.uk in 2007

Monday, May 28, 2012

Blog posts past: Rubbish student jobs

IT'S been 11 years since I left uni, and those hazy, happy summer breaks, starting in late June and running all the way through to early October, are just a nostalgic memory. There are many things about university I miss. The student bar. The vodka jelly parties. The atmosphere of academia that pervaded the hallowed corridors inspired the urge to learn within me. Honest. But it’s the long, long summer holidays that I miss the most. Even now, I spend the entirety of August feeling like I really shouldn’t be at work. It’s just wrong.

Mind you, it doesn’t take a lot to make me feel that I shouldn’t be at work. On returning from honeymoon, there was a strange sense within me, call it ancestral memory if you will, that I should be throwing in the towel on my career to become a homemaker. Didn’t last long - I’m rubbish at housework. And cooking. And keeping up any reasonable standard of household hygiene.

Of course in reality I didn’t spend the whole of the summer holidays lazing in bed (I had the term times to do that). In fact, I worked quite hard. Well, some of the time. I spent several summers as an office junior for one of Berkshire’s biggest companies (no, not THAT one) which made me vow never to follow a profession where I’d have to work in an office. Unfortunately, offices are quite hard to avoid if you’re vocationally no good with your hands (and 10 years at the NWN confirmed that journalists don’t spend most of their time in pubs. Not during working hours, anyway).

And then there were my waitressing stints, most of which were spent in the pub kitchens enlightening the chefs with the rudimentary basics of Descartesian philosophy (vegetables are a great prop for demonstrating Descartes’ theory about the intangibility of colour).

There was also several youth camp holidays, as a leader, which were fun but challenging, particuarly as my little sister was one of the delightful scamps under my care.  She and her mates obeyed my every command, as you can imagine. One year, the hunky leader who everyone fancied was a guy called Chris Simmons, who went on to be Mickey in The Bill. It’s not a big claim to fame, but thought I’d share it with you anyway.

Oh yes, and I almost forgot the one day I lasted in a refrigerated dairy factory. I had to stick six-for-four barcode labels onto yoghurt pots. My hands were so cold that most of my labels went on wonky. The nice thing was, I was able to go into Sainsbury’s the next day and identify which labels were mine from their rakish angle. Lovely (and hardy) co-workers, though, and they let me take home some bottles of Yop.

So as I drag myself to my desk tomorrow (early mornings are another thing I haven’t got the hang of since leaving uni) I will remind myself that August has never been a month of complete rest and recreation. It’s not as if the weather’s nice outside, anyway. Think I might buy some jelly cubes, though. And some vodka...



  • First published on www.newburytoday.co.uk in 2007

Sunday, May 27, 2012

Blog posts past: I discover the joys of Facebook

I’VE been traipsing around the country a bit this week, so really I should tell you about our climb up Mount Snowdon  (on a train), trips to Chester Zoo and Legoland, and an overnight stay in a motel where a name badge for a certain “Shag-able Sue” was found in the wardrobe.

But instead, I’ve decided to write about the new obsession that is taking over my life - Facebook. Or www.facebook.com, to give it its full world wide web URL. Set up in the USA three years ago as a social networking website for college students, it now lets everyone and anyone join. And indeed, it appears like everyone and anyone has now joined - or if they haven’t, they will do very soon.

Unlike Myspace, where most members aged over 25 felt like interlopers in a world that was just a little bit young and cool for them (unless you were a band member, DJ or Teen Spirit It Girl), Facebook embraces the geek in all of us. Whereas with Myspace your chosen wallpaper, font and general page design reflects how “with it” or not you are (and confirms for me that most young types have way better eyesite than I do - some of their pages are illegible), the look of Facebook is clean, functional and designed not to baffle those who grew up with BBC computers at school and Sinclair ZX81s at home.

The result is that although I was introduced to Facebook (as I am to most latest crazes) by someone 10 years younger than me, many more of my generation appear to have signed up to Facebook in recent months than ever dipped their toes into the world of Myspace. I am back in touch with old school and uni friends, workmates and exes that I haven’t seen for years; several of whom I am unlikely to meet in the real world ever again (they thought they could shake me off by moving to another country - they were wrong).

So what do we do on Facebook, apart from write endless cryptic messages on each other’s walls with the main aim of baffling other readers who aren’t in on the joke? Mainly poke each other. “Poke” as in “prod across cyberspace”, that is. And when we tire of that (which is rarely), we resort to the superpoke (tickle, irritate, defenestrate, use the force, throw a sheep at, etc). It’s extremely satisfying, and great for finally resolving those frustrating unspoken issues that have rankled for years, such as “why did you dump me in 1993?”.

And once all energy is spent, we can buy each other drinks; send flowers; replenish friend’s aquariums; turn people into vampires, zombies and werwolves, and compare people’s various traits (apparently I’m the second best dancer in my network of friends, which is a bit worrying. There can’t have been much competition). None of it is real, of course. But then, what is reality?

There are various interest groups to be joined, but most of them tend to peter out pretty quickly into a list of comments such as: “I love Derren Brown!”, “Me too!”, “I love him more!”, “Well, I’m going to marry him!”, “No, he’s mine!”... you get the idea. Facebook isn’t a forum for great thoughts or philosophical discourse (I’ve got the Digital Spy website for that).


But if you’re procrastinating over the commencement of your homework, housework, commute to work or the fact that you really ought to get dressed at some point today before it gets dark, Facebook could be the distraction you’re looking for. It’s changed my life. And my ability to meet deadlines, communicate with family members and maintain reasonable standards of household hygiene and personal grooming. Doesn’t matter though - I look always great in my Facebook profile photo.

* Actually, I will mention Chester Zoo, just for the amusing incident (for everyone else) where I got buzzed by a massive fruitbat in the bat house and fell over a rock in the dark. Bats are amazing, but a bit scary when they’re heading straight for you. And yes,  I know they’ve got sonar systems and would never get tangled up in your hair, but I dare you not to duck.



  • First published on www.newburytoday.co.uk in 2007

Saturday, May 26, 2012

Blog posts past: My writing - a health warning (aka why I can't spell)

THERE are a few things that you’re probably going to notice about my blogging style over the coming weeks, so to save you the trouble of spotting them for yourselves, I thought I’d make them clear from the start.

The first is that I have a surprisingly limited vocabulary. This was highlighted the other day when my son George was looking in a children’s cookery book, and said to me: “Look at this bicycle made from vegetables Mum, it’s ingenious”. Now, I do know what “ingenious” means, but I don’t think it’s a word I’ve ever used in everyday conversation. I’m more likely to say: “Ooh, that’s a bit clever”.


He was right, though. The verdured velocipede (don’t panic, I’ve just looked it up in Roget’s Thesaurus) was indeed extremely impressive. Not that poor George will ever get to see what it looks like in real life. In addition to using more long words than I do, he has been hampered with a mother who can’t cook. And the recipe involved courgettes, which I can’t stand.

The second thing you will soon realise is that I have no strong opinions about anything. Ever. Politics, popular culture, sport - if there’s a fence to sit on, you’ll find me happily perched on top of it. I am the ultimate neutral zone. I’d be rubbish on that Room 101, because there’s nothing that I truly hate. There’s very little that I feel passionate about either way.


Ambivalence (I’ve just checked the dictionary) isn’t the right word, because that implies that I’m torn by conflicting ideas on issues, but I’m not. I’m just... vague. I suspect that my head is too full of perfume and kittens for facts to spend enough meaningful time in there to allow personal judgements to form. Anyone who has seen me wandering aimlessly around Newbury town centre attempting to make purchases will have seen this in action. I’m not a shoplifter, honest. I just take a really long time to make up my mind.

The last point I really have to make - and this is a bit of a major confession - is that I  am a really bad speller. It’s terrible, I know, but the day they introduced PCs with spellcheckers - American or otherwise - into the NWN  newsroom, I felt that my career was on the up. I really don’t think it’s that unusual among journos. A lot of creative writer types are left handed like me, and I’m sure there’s a connection.


Plus there's the fact that I cheated in spelling tests throughout my entire schooling. A very old mate of mine is now a primary school teacher herself, and she holds me up as an example to her class of why it’s a really bad idea to copy off friends during tests. I suspect she doesn’t conclude: “... and then she became a journalist”, though.

Anyway, armed with an extremely good grasp of punctuation and grammar (I feel I have to point out that I’m good at something) I have now thrown off the shackles of journalism, and am able to venture into the wide world of writing for fun, safe in the knowledge that the wonderful Newburytoday web team will rid my copy of the worst excesses of bad spelling before publication. Who knows - I may even come up with some opinions along the way.



  • First published on www.newburytoday.co.uk in 2007