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peckhampeculiar · 7 years

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Reflecting on his success

Former Nunhead resident Charlie Stemp has been nominated for an Olivier award for his role in hit musical Half a Sixpence. He tells us why he’s loving every minute of his newfound stardom

Words: Emma Finamore; Photo: Luke Wolagiewicz

“Probably my first memory is being on the New Kent Road. I always knew coming into London that when I was near the New Kent Road, I was near home. It was those traffic lights.”

Charlie Stemp is talking in a building only about half an hour’s drive from those lights (or a 20 minute journey, if you take the Bakerloo line) but metaphorically speaking it’s a world away: the West End’s Noël Coward Theatre, where he’s currently starring in hit musical Half a Sixpence.

Born in Camberwell and living on St Mary’s Road in Nunhead as a child, before moving to Elephant and Castle and settling in Blackheath, Charlie is a true south-east Londoner.

The 22-year-old has been nominated for a prestigious Laurence Olivier Award for his role in Half a Sixpence – in the Best Actor in a Musical category – with the winner to be announced on April 9. It’s an incredible feat for anybody, let alone someone who says he hated dancing and drama when he first tried it at school.

Charlie went to a large secondary school with about 4,000 kids, but says it didn’t work for him – “I was just lost, it was a bit too much for me” – so he moved to a small theatre academy with about 60 pupils or so, above an Argos in Eltham.

“I was able to have much more of a personality,” he says. “But I was forced to do musical theatre – it was compulsory. I hated it at first, the jock straps and tights and ballet… I think I was told by society that dancing’s not for boys. Then I got over myself, once I realised it was OK to enjoy these things.”

Charlie can pinpoint the moment everything changed. He was in a dance class one day when a teacher came in and pulled the dance instructor to one side, pointing at him: “I thought, ‘Oh God, I’m in trouble’, like maybe I’d forgotten to put on the jock strap or something.”

He wasn’t – in fact he’d got an audition for Billy Elliot. He was cut in the first round for being too tall, but it was the beginning of his career. Charlie gave up rugby and judo – he was in the Team GB squad and fought for Kent – for tap class and dancing. “I never looked back really,” he says.

After GCSEs he headed to Laine’s theatre school in Epsom – “I loved it” – and landed a role in a pantomime at the Orchard Theatre in Dartford aged 18. Funnily enough, the first place he was paid to be on stage was the same theatre he used to watch shows every Christmas as a child (his nan lives nearby).

A year later, he landed a spot in Wicked in Victoria, and after that went touring the world with Mamma Mia!, surfing in Tel Aviv – “It was so hot, like melt your sandals to the floor hot” – exploring the Christmas markets of Luxembourg, seeing Portugal and France and making friends with pub landlords in Dublin. “It was just brilliant, I think I slept at one pub twice – they put me under the bar,” he laughs.

His Olivier nomination is propped up on the table behind us, but of all Charlie’s experiences so far he says the most exciting has been receiving a call from one of his heroes, Ian McKellen, on the phone just beside where we’re sitting. “I remember shouting down the phone to him, ‘Shut up, you’re not Ian McKellen?! No you’re not?!’” he says. “He was really lovely.”

Press night for Half A Sixpence comes a close second, as Charlie (and his mum) got to meet Barbara Windsor. “I’m a big fan, I love the Carry On films,” he says. “She said she thought I was amazing, and that was so lovely. I said, ‘Miss Windsor, thank you so much,’ and she said, ‘Call me Babs.’ I said, ‘Yeah I will, forever!’”

Despite clearly being over the moon about the Olivier nomination accolade, Charlie is keeping it in perspective. “It doesn’t feel like hard work that’s paid off,” he says, “because I’ve just enjoyed every second of it.

“When we started in Chichester [where Half a Sixpence had its first run] everyone loved it, we would get stopped in the streets, in this little conservative town. But then to bring it to London, and for it to run really well, that’s as much an achievement as the nomination, I think.”

He talks about the particular challenges of moving a production from a smaller town to the West End. “People expect more here, when you bring something to town. There’s an expectation that it’s going to be good. People – at first – are distant and reserved, and that’s not a negative, you just have to rise to the occasion.”

It’s something Charlie (and clearly, the theatre critics) believes the Half a Sixpence team has successfully pulled off, despite going up against and being compared to musical giants like Les Misérables, Wicked and The Phantom of the Opera.

“I believe our show is as good if not better, because we bring something to the West End that nobody else has: old fashioned British charm,” he says enthusiastically.

Despite being updated, the musical is firmly rooted in modern British history. Based on HG Wells’ 1905 novel Kipps, it centres around a humble draper’s assistant called Arthur Kipps (played by Charlie) who comes into money after a surprise inheritance.

As his new-found wealth propels him into high society, he must choose between Ann Pornick, the childhood sweetheart he left behind, and the beautiful and classy Helen Walsingham.

It was originally written as a vehicle for another famous south-east Londoner – entertainer Tommy Steele – in London in 1963, before hitting Broadway in 1965 and the silver screen in 1967 as a film adaptation.

“All the shows in the West End at the moment are just Broadway copies, shows that have done so well on Broadway that they just bring them over here and they do so well over here that they just keep churning out shows,” Charlie says.

“There’s always an audience for them, because everyone knows The Lion King, everyone knows The Book of Mormon. And that’s wonderful, don’t get me wrong – I’ve been in those casts and done those things and it’s so much fun.

“But to do something that you have created, and that you have been part of from the beginning is incredible. You feel so much more pride in it, because you’re an active cog in the machine instead of just doing exactly what the person 10 cast members ago did. It’s great.”

And the reviews seem to agree with him. His dad jokingly used to email Charlie all the bad reviews from the early Chichester days, and the good ones that had got his name wrong (“Charlie Stump” sticks out as a favourite) but he needn’t have worried – before long the rave reviews were rolling in, from both London and national papers.

The Telegraph called Charlie “one of those fairytale finds that’s the stuff of legend”, and said “in his elastic, fantastic company – and that of the terrific, 24-strong ensemble too – two hours whiz-bang-hurtle by”.

“For older generations it’s a classic that they can relate to, it’s part of their childhoods, and for younger people it’s just a bloody good show,” says Charlie. “The cast is incredible – two of my peers have already been nominated for Oliviers, both about four times each – and it’s such an ensemble show, so that’s great.”

The show features music from the late David Heneker – an award-winning writer and composer of British musicals – updated by Anthony Drewe and George Stiles, with songs about rain, garden parties and dreaming about pay rises in the pub.

Combined with a new story by Downton Abbey creator Julian Fellowes, it’s no wonder, really, that the show has been a hit in London. “We kind of have an ‘A team’ creatively,” says Charlie. “It’s the only show around with that Britishness, and we’ve brought it up to the 21st century.”

But it’s not just the production that’s proved a hit, of course – it’s Charlie himself. “I enjoy it, I really do, and so does everyone else,” he says, refusing to be drawn into talking about his own individual talents and treating the whole thing as a team effort.

“I think that’s what people like when they come to see us –we’re having so much fun, so they start to have fun – it’s our infectious happiness.”

And happiness is clearly the most important thing for him right now, in life as well as in his career. When asked what is next on the cards, Charlie says: “Honestly my motto is ‘just be happy’. I keep bugging my manager to be Bert in Mary Poppins, but I don’t mind what I do, as long as I’m happy.

“In this industry it’s so easy to forget that we only do it because we love it. We don’t do it for the money or the fame – we do it because we enjoy it. When money and fame happen it’s a bonus, but you do it because you love it. And I want to stay that way.” Despite all the “whiz-bang”, there’s a wise head on those young shoulders.

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Half a Sixpence is playing at the Noël Coward Theatre on St Martin’s Lane and tickets are currently on sale up to and including September 2. To book call 0844 482 5140 or go to halfasixpence.co.uk

#charlie stemp #peckham #nunhead #half a sixpence #olivier awards

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ofstormsandwolves · 7 years

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Rylands House (1/2)

Campbell x Bella, modern day AU

15 year old Campbell is less than impressed with his new home. But a certain new friend might help change that.

AO3

Campbell Bain hastily stubbed out his cigarette as his social worker approached. The stub was ground into the pavement beneath his trainer, and he hastily kicked it away before reaching for his rucksack and guitar case.

“Don’t think I didn’t see ye smoking,” his social worker told him with a knowing look. “Ye need to pack it in, Campbell. It’s doing ye no good.”

“Aye,” Campbell muttered, “much like yer drinking then, Eddie.”

Eddie McKenna frowned at the fifteen year old and watched as he stooped to grab another of his bags.

“My drinking habits are none of your business, Campbell,” he reminded the teenager sharply. “And I’d watch your manners if I were you; I’m your social worker, and you need to remember that.”

Campbell just snorted at that, and made his way towards Eddie’s car.

“And I don’t have a drinking problem.” Eddie’s words fell on deaf ears and he sighed, stooping to collect the last of Campbell’s bags.

Campbell’s belongings finally in the boot of Eddie’s car, they climbed in and began the drive through London to the new children’s home he would be staying at. While it wasn’t far- as Eddie had continually reminded the teenager- the London traffic made the journey a considerable length, during which Campbell spent almost all of the time with his headphones on, listening to music on his phone, leaving Eddie to sit in silence.

When they finally pulled up outside the new children’s home, Campbell took one look at the old building with its’ white wooden porch and old-fashioned front door with its stained glass, and raised an eyebrow.

“I’m staying here?” he asked in bewilderment, whipping round to see Eddie already pulling his belongings out of the boot.

“Aye,” Eddie nodded, “and I’m sure you’ll settle in just fine, Campbell.”

Then, with Campbell still protesting in the driveway, Eddie made his way to the door. They didn’t have to wait long before the door was opened and they were ushered inside by a brown-haired lady of about mid-fifties.

“This must be Campbell, yes? I’m Mrs Rogers,” the woman said, smiling at Campbell.

Campbell said nothing in response, and Eddie sighed.

“Campbell,” Eddie muttered, giving the teenager a nudge.

The boy glared, but reluctantly said hello to Mrs Rogers, who looked unfazed by Campbell’s attitude. Instead, Mrs Rogers began talking them through daily life at Rylands, explaining to Campbell that the home consisted only of teenagers, from the age of thirteen up, and that he’d be given his own room due to his bipolar.

“Purely so that you have your own space,” Mrs Rogers clarified with a smile at Campbell’s questioning look. “It’s not the biggest of rooms, but it gives you somewhere to go when you need to be alone, and also somewhere private for if and when we administer your medication, if you don’t want anyone else seeing.”

Campbell glanced at Eddie then, but the man didn’t look fazed. Clearly, Mrs Rogers had talked it through with him beforehand.

“As I said,” Eddie explained calmly, “Campbell’s previous homes hadn’t been able to offer that, but I think it would work out better for him in the long run. Aye, Campbell?”

“Aye,” Campbell mumbled, shifting uncomfortably.

Luckily, the conversation shifted then, to Campbell’s medication- a tablet a day- and to taking his things up to his room. Eddie helped with that, and soon it was time for him to leave.

“You’re actually leaving me here?!” Campbell hissed as Eddie made for the door.

“Aye.” Eddie frowned in confusion. “You’ll be fine here, Campbell.”

The teen shifted uncomfortably at that. “I don’t know, Eddie. I just...” He trailed off and shrugged, not really sure what to say.

Eddie gave him a sympathetic look.

“You’ll be fine,” Eddie insisted gently. “You’ve got your own room, there are plenty of other kids your age, they’re more than happy to handle your medication...” He paused, and gave Campbell a knowing smile. “I know this is the sixth time you’ve moved this year, but I promise it’s the last. Don’t forget, three of those times were temporary foster homes.”

“But what if they decide they can’t cope with my bipolar?” Campbell stammered. “I mean, the last home did!”

“Aye, but Mrs Rogers has assured me it won’t happen here.” Eddie closed the space between them, clapped a hand on Campbell’s shoulder. “You’ve got your own room, you’re doing well on your medication, and all the kids in this home are old enough to understand your medical condition. The previous home wasn’t a good match, and I’m sorry about that. You were in there with kids a third of your age, Campbell. I had to move ye, before ye slipped through the net.”

~0~0~

It wasn’t until the next morning that Campbell had the opportunity to meet all his new housemates. While the majority of them had all been there for dinner the previous night, it seemed one of them had managed to skip the meal altogether.

He was making his way down to breakfast when he became aware of Mrs Rogers’ raised voice coming from her office.

“-not good enough, Bella! I just don’t know what to do with you! You’re a smart girl, you could be getting much better grades, if you just paid attention in class!”

Campbell drew nearer to the door, not recalling any ‘Bella’ the previous night when Mrs Rogers had introduced him to everyone. The office door was just open a crack, allowing him to view a sliver of the room. There was movement, but he couldn’t see enough to tell who it was, or what the person looked like.

“And then, then you don’t come home from school! Half past ten you rolled in last night! More than three hours after curfew!”

“It was a Friday night-” an annoyed voice protested, and Campbell realised it must be this Bella.

“Bella, it was after curfew!” Mrs Rogers interrupted. “We didn’t know where you’d gone! We were going to call the Police!”

“Yeah, well, I’m back now,” Bella grumbled. “An’ this is the exact reason I didn’t wanna come back! So I failed a maths test, it wasn’t like it was GCSEs, or anythin’!”

“No,” Mrs Rogers countered, “but you’re not going to pass your GCSEs, Bella, if you don’t pay attention in class!”

Campbell heard Bella huff then, and he stifled a laugh. Whoever this Bella was, it seemed she was somewhat used to Mrs Rogers’ telling her off.

“Fine,” Bella ground out after a moment. “Can I go now?”

Moments later, the door to Mrs Rogers’ office was flung open, and a short blonde teenager came storming out, barrelling straight into Campbell’s chest.

“Who are you?” Bella demanded as she pulled away again.

Campbell opened his mouth to speak, but before he could find the words, Mrs Rogers was at the door.

“Bella, this is Campbell. He’s the new boy who arrived yesterday,” Mrs Rogers announced, drawing Bella’s attention back to her. “You’d know that if you were here for dinner last night.”

Bella rolled her eyes at that, before pushing past Campbell and heading for the dining room.

~0~0~

Campbell watched as Bella left the dining room. Breakfast had been a quiet affair- if you ignored Gary and Terry mocking him from across the room- and it seemed Bella was all too eager to get out of there. Watching to see that everyone else was occupied, Campbell slipped out of his seat and followed her.

“Bella, wasn’t it?” he called after her as she neared the stairs.

She didn’t turn round.

“We didn’t get the chance to meet yesterday,” he continued, finally catching up with the girl.

“Yeah, well, I had things to do.” Bella shrugged as she began to ascend the stairs, still not looking at him.

“Aye, so I heard.” Campbell nodded, a smirk on his face. That earned him a glare from Bella, and she looked at him for the first time since they’d been outside Mrs Rogers’ office before breakfast.

Campbell continued beaming though and, finally, she cracked a small smile.

“Well, you know how it is,” she told him with a sigh. “Mrs Rogers is nice, but she’s so... Fussy. I mean, it was one maths test. It’s not like my life’s over because of it.”

They were walking along the corridor then, and Campbell could only assume Bella was subconsciously leading him to her room.

“Aye, my social worker Eddie’s a bit like that,” Campbell admitted. “Acts like me skipping one day of school is gonna destroy everythin’. But it’s not. I wanna go into music, what use is science to me?”

“Exactly!” Bella grinned.

They came to a halt then, at the last door along the corridor.

“This is my room,” Bella said, almost needlessly. “You can come in, if you want. We can continue talking. I mean, it didn’t look like you’ve made many friends yet at breakfast, an’ we seem to be gettin’ on...” She trailed off, looking a little awkward, and shrugged. “Stacy, my roommate, she’s goin’ out with some friends from school, so it won’t be a problem.”

“Aye, I’d love to,” Campbell said, nodding furiously.

And just like that, Bella was beaming again. She led Campbell inside her room, and he took it all in.

“It’s pretty crap,” Bella said when she saw that Campbell was taking in the room. “They’ve not decorated for years. This room’s been the same since I moved in, at least, and that was two years ago.”

Campbell just nodded, taking in the photos taped to the wall above Bella’s bed. There were a couple of Bella and some other teenagers, one with Stacy in, but the rest seemed to be of landscapes. Nearby streets, the local park, some close-ups of trees and shadows.

“These are good,” Campbell told her. “Did you take them?”

Bella nodded, but looked a little uncomfortable.

“They’re not that good,” Bella responded softly. “Thank you for saying so, though. I’ve only got a crappy little camera, and I’m not allowed to buy any editing software or anything. I’m saving for my own laptop though, and then I’ll be able to get some editing stuff.”

Campbell was still stood in the middle of the room, his hands deep in the pockets of his jeans, even as Bella settled on the edge of her bed.

“You’re lucky,” Bella told him suddenly, “that you get your own room. I mean, I know it’s ‘cause of your medication and stuff, but you’re still lucky. You don’t have to share with anyone.”

Not really knowing what to say to that, Campbell just shrugged. He knew that all the kids in the home knew about his bipolar, because Eddie had told him so, but he hadn’t actually expected any of them to be so understanding. He’d been gearing up for a fight about it, he realised, ready to punch anyone who mocked him for it. But instead, Bella was understanding and sympathetic, and just a little bit jealous that it meant he got his own room.

“It’s not that bad, is it? Sharing a room? I mean, I had to share at my previous homes, and it wasn’t that annoying.” He shifted again.

“No,” Bella conceded. “But if I had my own room I’d be able to find everything for starters. Stacy’s got a habit of leaving her stuff everywhere, then I can never find my own things.”

“Aye, I had that problem in my previous home,” Campbell nodded. “Kept buying strings for my guitar and then not being able to find them in among all the shite my roommate left lying around.”

They descended into an uncomfortable silence after that, neither of them quite knowing what else to say.

“You wanna go to the park or something?” Campbell asked suddenly. “Get out of here for a bit?”

Bella sighed at that. “I’d love to, Campbell, but ‘m grounded. Didn’t come back ‘til after curfew last night, remember?”

Campbell visibly deflated at that. “Oh.”

“You can still go out, though,” Bella pointed out. “You don’t have to stay here just because I have to.”

“Aye,” Campbell nodded, looking a little awkward, “I know. But I don’t wanna leave ye here on your own.” He paused. “Besides, in the ten minutes we’ve been talking, you’ve been more of a friend to me than anyone in my last three homes.”

“Oh.” Bella blinked.

There was a slightly awkward silence.

“So,” Campbell spoke up again, finally plucking up the courage to flop down on the bed beside Bella. “What is there to do around here?”

#Campbell x Bella #teninch fic #Campbell Bain #Bella #Takin' Over the Asylum #bella and the boys #Bella and her Boy

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saddgittariusgrl-blog · 5 years

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my past

When I think back over my life, there are a few moments over the last twenty years that stick out to me. My sister being born and being the first person in the entire world to hold her and feed her. Going through a group interview with at least fifteen other people and being one of five to get the job. Finishing statutory education with qualifications and and a bright future. However no matter how much I think about these moments, they have always been overshadowed by my poor mental health. For the last six years I have been struggling with my mental health, but in retrospect I can see the difficulties emerging years earlier.

I wouldn’t say I had an unhappy childhood. I was and still am whole heartedly loved by my parents, they gave me everything they could, even if it meant they went without. It would be extremely cliche to put my mental health problems down to my parents so i’m not going to do that, but they aren’t completely blameless for the way I have turned out. My parents were 19 and 23 when I was born, over the years and as i’ve got older I’ve learned more and more about their early relationship, which i now know wasn’t long at all before I came along. My parent’s had been together for less than six months before my mom was pregnant with me, which ultimately would mean they’re now stuck together.

Growing up in an unstable home has definitely affected me more than I care to admit. When I was young my parents struggled a lot, emotionally and financially. My dad was in the middle of his own depressive episode and was struggling with a gambling addiction, leaving my 19 year old mom practically raising a new born baby alone. I think now that as a child I must have absorbed some of their problems and their fighting and I think it’s stayed with me since. If i think really hard about it, I don’t think they are two people who should be together, but they stayed together for my sake and have been ever since. Living in a household with parents who are very clearly unhappy has definitely altered my view of what a normal good relationship should be and how partners should be around each other. In my eyes it was normal for parents to shout and scream at each other and for one to storm out and return home hours later.

All that being said, I still feel completely loved by my parents, and that adds even more to the guilt I carried around for so long that I was the reason that they were unhappy, if they hadn’t of had me they would be completely different people now, living different and probably happier lives with other people. I was the glue that was holding these two people together that clearly don’t want to be.

I don’t blame my parents for my mental health struggles, but I do think they laid the foundations for my difficulties to begin and grow in to what they were. I massively believe I have a genetic predisposition for depression and anxiety, as it features heavily in my dad’s side of the family.

School was always fine for me, primary school that is. Everybody knew everybody and things just happily went along, secondary school was a very different experience for me. It was so completely overwhelming and I was terrified. I never bothered to make new friends, rather staying with my friends from primary school that had came here with me. This worked fine until we drifted apart as we got older and i ended up with nobody. I was bullied in the earlier years of school, from things such as the music that i listened to and how I looked and dressed, and my weight was a topic of discussion. I have always been very slim, and people used that to make comments about how small I was and if i was anorexic and i should ‘just go and eat’ and I was constantly self conscious and uncomfortable. There were rumours about me going round about doing this and that with different boys which were all untrue, but it filled me with anxiety every day.

I decided to access my school’s student support and after speaking with a mentor for a few weeks, they referred me to be assessed for Autistic Spectrum Disorder. I spend around 4 hours there going through the assessment and talking to psychologists and doing tests, and I found out that day I am autistic. I was 14. I had just been told that everything that I had thought about myself for 14 years was untrue, I wasn’t just shy and quiet, I had a real neurological disorder and this was the reason for these things. After the assessment, that was that. No support from the clinic and student support couldn’t maintain the level of support i needed from a mentor. In that time I had never felt so alone in my life up until that point. How was i supposed to deal with this information at 14? I did eventually access the ELC centre at my school and I was given a specific mentor who works with autistic children and this support massively helped me come to terms with my diagnosis. Before I had come to terms with it, I was in a constant low mood, every single day because I was so confused with what was happening and how it effected me, it was crushing to not know who i was anymore. The support from ELC and my mentor helped me continue through school, I wouldn’t have been able to sit my GCSE’s otherwise.

When I was 14 I met George. He was the first boy that had ever paid attention to me, he said all the lovely things i wanted to hear and he made me feel good about myself, he cared about things I had to say and was there for me when things were difficult. He was 16, turning 17. In hindsight the age gap between us then makes me uncomfortable. I saw him everyday, we spent break and lunch together in school, I’d be at his every day after school, he very quickly became my entire world, he was the be all and end all of my day. Things stayed like this for nearly 3 years. But over those 3 years, he became a very different person to the one I loved. It was 4 days after my 15th birthday he pressured me into having sex with him. I didn’t feel like I could say no as i’d ‘promised’ i’d do it. Over time, the person he was that was lovely to me and listened and cared slowly disappeared and turned into a manipulative and nasty person. The word compromise didn’t exist to him, it was his way or the high way. He made me leave at 7pm every night and I could never sleep over for the first year and a half. When i did sleep over, he made me leave at 1 in the afternoon because i’d had ‘extra time’. He started being more and more private, never telling me what he was doing or who he was seeing, I still to this day have no idea where he wold go on nights out or who with, he’d just say he was going to town. He had a very short tempter and would shout at me all the time. I remember one time I needed to unplug something to make space for a laptop character, I accidentally unplugged the TV while he was watching something and he went crazy, shouting in my face and calling me every name under the sun, I was useless and i couldn’t do anything right, and he sit there and let me cry for over an hour. I would be in the passenger seat of his car and he would sit there and berate me, he would go into detail about how I was ruining his life and making him miserable, this was all my fault. Whenever I would call him out on his behaviour, he would just tell me to leave him, or ‘find another boyfriend’ But i couldn’t do that, I couldn’t leave him. He was my entire life and everything revolved around him. He knew that, he knew i wouldn’t leave and he got away with doing this to me for such a long time. There are no photos of me on my 17th birthday because he made me cry so much my eyes were swollen. I lost my teenage years to this monster, he took them from me and I felt I could never get them back.

Out of the blue one day he told me we needed to talk, he wanted to go on a two week break. He didn’t give me any reason, he just wanted the break. I later found out on this break he’d been speaking to a girl I vaguely knew, slagging me off and telling her that we were over and had been for a long time. He was planning on getting with her at a party. He left me hanging for 2 weeks not knowing if the man who was my life for nearly 3 years was coming back. When it was finally over, he refused to come and give me the things I had at his house for a month, he left me hanging on to him for a month after it was over so i was unable to move on with my life.

The summer of that year was when my problems with my mental health struggles really levelled up. I had been with this boy for nearly 3 years, I didn’t know how to be alone anymore. Any hobbies that I used to have weren’t there anymore, so I turned to what i had known for so long. Men.

I’d downloaded tinder with the intention of just using men the way that I had been used, but it quickly spiralled out of control and it was all I was doing, I’d have about 5 or so people on the go at once, all I was concerned with was being free and being with as many people as I could. I can’t remember the exact amount of men i’ve met from Tinder even now, but I know every person I have been with since this time, was from Tinder. I would meet up with people I’d known for a few months, I’d sleep with them as if it was going to make me feel better, but all it ever did was make things worse. I’d tricked myself into thinking I could have no strings attached sex but I never could.

This is around the time I met Joe. We met on Tinder, we became really good friends over this summer, It was a few meet ups before we had sex which I hadn’t done before, he promised to see me before he moved back to university, but he didn’t and he left without saying goodbye. I wish I would have left it there and never spoken to him again but as I will come to it, he comes back.

At this point in the summer i had no regard for myself or my own safety. I agreed to go to a house party of a friend from school, someone I had known for years. When i arrived it was no party, it was just him and one other person, but who cares? I know them. We drank and drank and at no point did I make my own drink, every time my glass was empty they would be filling it up until I was so hammered, I could barely even stand up. Rather than try and get home in this state, I decided to stay there and go home in the morning. At this point, they started doing coke. They offered it to me, and I decided to do it. This moment still haunts me because I should never have done that. I was completely out of my mind, drunk and now high. I remember at about 4 I’m starting to feel like I need to sleep, so i go upstairs to lie down and try and sleep a little. I didn’t really fall asleep but I was in and out of it. I woke up in the night to find my friend, someone i’d known for over 5 years, taking off my trousers and underwear, and putting his face between my legs. I remember lying there in dead silence, laying completely still. I had no idea what to do, do I move or say something? I was terrified, so i laid still. After about 10 minutes or so I could feel he moving around and rather waiting for what he might do next, i moved a little like i was rolling in my sleep, it must have put him off and he left. I left at 8 the next morning and have never spoken to him again, and never told any adult what had happened to me.

After this I meet Tom, he seems different, he was genuinely my type and I was attracted to him for more than just easy casual sex. We spoke for months before I met him and when he did meet, it was so completely natural and I felt so comfortable. Over the course of a couple months we met up more, we had sex, but we went on dates and did other things together, he came to birmingham and he came to my house. We made it official in March, I felt like this was going to be different than George. We lasted a month. I was crushed once again, because he as the first person since George that I completely trusted and shared things with, and I felt like i’d lost my best friend. We continued an on/off relationship for the best part of a year, periodically meeting up and having sex. In hindsight I know now that I was doing this as a way to just keep him in my life. I think even if i didn’t want to have sex with him, I still would. Sex is the easier way to get them to stay. I would always think that if i had sex with them and they stayed around, eventually they would get real feelings for me and stay for good. Me and Tom are still friends now after lots of figuring out our relationship and where we stand with eachother. I am grateful to still have a friend around who know’s exactly what i’ve been through because he was there while it was happening and can help me look back and identify my problems.

Even though most of my relationship problems are from romantic relationships, I’ve also had my problems with platonic relationships. I’d never really had a true best friend until I met Chelsea. We were everything best friends should be, we spent all the time together and we shared everything with each other, there was no secrets between us and nothing we didn’t know about each other. When she left to go to uni I was heartbroken, I remember crying when she left and she cried too, we were on the phone to each other all the time and she was really homesick and I was there for her. When she went back for second year, things were different. We didn’t really talk much and when we did it was awkward. When had a gig booked and It was a really weird atmosphere the whole time until we went outside and she told me that she didn’t want to be in the friendship anymore, it was different and he was upset because of it. We parted ways that night and didn’t speak again for over a year. I think at the time I never really allowed myself to feel sad about us not being friends, I went home that night and carried on as if nothing happened, I left our group chat and never spoke to any of them again. I was more angry than upset but i brushed it under the carpet that it was fine. She was my platonic soulmate and It hurt me more than I ever showed when she left me. Over a year later I run into her at a gig, It was such a weird feeling, for the first time i allowed myself to be upset about what happened. We hugged and I cried and I walked away. That night I lay in bed with Joe and cried and cried about what happened, What i had been holding in for over a year and i finally had let it out, friends can break your heart too.

After Tom, was Joe.

I can whole heartedly say, Joe was the worst thing to ever happen to me. When we met again when he returned from university, he knew about everything that had happened. He knew I was vulnerable, he’s always knew that. It started out great, he was so lovely to me, he would make time to come and see me, we went to gigs together and shopping and go for drinks. It was almost like the fairytale I wanted. When he asked me to be his girlfriend, I was unbelievably happy. I’d wanted this for so long and it was finally happening! He would always be talking to him, calling me and face timing me as he was in Aber at this point. May that year, I find out he’s cheating on me. I remember that night like it was yesterday. I get the typical ‘Are you Joe Gray’s Girlfriend?” message and I knew exactly whats coming. He’s been sleeping with a girl at uni, not even just once, several times, and they had more planned. I was sent all the screenshots of him talking about what they were doing together and slagging me off, denying out relationship when she found out about him. I have never felt so crushed in my entire life, I had just watched everything i’d built up fall apart around me. I should have left at this point. For some reason, I decided to stay with him. Probably because it was easier than leaving and being alone. I had such low self esteem I would rather stay with someone who has done this to me than leave and be alone. We did break up for a week, but we got back together, he’d convinced me that he would change, and then we had sex. On the surface, things were good. I saw him frequently, we did things together and I was a real part of his life, but deep down, It was extremely toxic. He would humiliate me every change he got, in front of his family and friends. He would use me for my money, I would pay for everything, i can’t even put a number on how much i spent on him. I never fully trusted him again after cheating on me. I was constantly paranoid what he was doing or who he was with. I’d seen messages of him telling his friend about how fit the girls at work are. I was more anxiety and paranoia than a person. When we argued, we argued, all or nothing. He would take all of his anger and stress out on me, he would constantly block and unblock me, he called me every name he could and make me feel so bad about myself. He told me his family didn’t like me, his mom wanted us to break up. I was a parasite, sucking the life out of him. I was weak because I’d let him cheat on me. At one point, he tried to physically throw me out. He packed up all of my things and put them in bags and at the door, ready to throw me out over an argument. Even with all of this happening, he was still my whole world. I was at his beck and call, whatever he wanted I did, I was there for him whenever he needed it. Sex whenever he wanted, and if i didn’t want to he would nag until we did. He began to drink heavily, coming home all the time drunk, staying late at work every night to drink, then he would come home and berate me for being a killjoy and ruining his fun. I was his maid. I cooked for him, cleaned for him, did everything for him, without as much as a thank you. I had given absolutely everything I had to him, to the point there was nothing left for myself.

Because of this relationship, everything else suffered. Once again I had strained relationships with my family and my friends, I was completely chaotic in my emotions and I was a mess at work. I’ve had more breakdowns in my office than I can count. I couldn’t hold down an emotion for 5 minutes before I was in some anxiety driven panicked state. I almost lost my job over this. He made me into this neurotic, chaotic person that I was constantly on edge and anxious. I have never felt so bad about myself in my life, everything was my fault, every argument we had was my fault. Even when he would do things that hurt me and i’d speak up about it, he would gaslight me and I would end up apologising for things I did. I wasn’t even a person anymore, I was just there for Joe. In hindsight, it disgusts me.

He broke up with me just after christmas, he’d been quite distant and he’d got me a face toner as my gift, that’s it. When i went to get my things he wasn’t even going to be there at first until I pretty much forced him to. He was gathering my things for me like he couldn’t wait for me to leave. He left me on his doorstep with my things in a bag, crying my eyes out, and he walked away and shut and locked the door on me. It was only about 2 weeks after the break up i found out he already had a new girlfriend. I am completely sure he was talking to her while we were together, it wouldn’t surprise me at all. I tried to warn her what he was like and what he will do to her, I had screenshots of him being disgusting and she chose to ignore me, I couldn’t save her. I saw a post on valentines day about how this was the happiest he’s been in a long time. It’s like every time he speaks it’s another dagger right in my heart and It hurt so fucking much. I had told myself i was over it and I believe that I am but seeing him move on so quickly when only a few weeks before he was telling me about how we wanted to spend his life with me and we have a future together, and then for him to be with someone else already, it really fucking hurt.

Going through two toxic relationships and bad break ups was finally the wake up call I needed to grow a back bone and stand up for myself. I refuse to ever depend on a man for my own happiness again, as long as I love me, that’s all that matters.

#me #writing #my writing #relationships #toxic relationships #emotional abuse #mental health #recovery

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x-its-all-just-in-my-mind-x · 5 years

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Not that anyone is gonna see this but

2018 has been completely and utterly the most bullshit year of my life. A lot of stuff has happened with friends and school and everything feels stressful and tense. I’m only somehow starting to see the toxic people in my life and I’m not easily mean to people until I’m properly pissed off, so I’m not really sure how to deal with it. I kinda just need to type this out on a rant bc I don’t wanna bother my friends right now. They’ve heard it all year long.

First off, at the start of the year a girl I was close friends with was telling me to go to the school counsellor. I felt like I could be depressed or have anxiety or something, I’m still not totally sure but I still feel like that most of the time. Anyway, I started going, and then once when I was really stressed out I did something I regretted and won’t talk about. It wasn’t serious, because it wasn’t much, but she told the counsellor, which led to the school calling my parents, who REALLY weren’t happy about the suggestion something was wrong with me. It led to a lot of shit between me and this friend, who I’m still kinda friends with.

Then, rumours starting spreading about me and my boyfriend. Even if I was going to the counsellor at this point, I couldn’t have mentioned that. I was convinced it was her, because at the time I thought ‘why wouldn’t it be?’ But even now, I’m not totally sure. That shit passed after a while though.

Everything was ok for a while, apart from stress with important exams and an Art GCSE and all the shit that comes with that etc. Then came something I will never not feel guilty about.

My best friend of 5 years came to me telling me her boyfriend (my boyfriend’s best friend) cheated on her. I texted him all this stuff about staying away from her, because she told me he was texting her abuse. I told my boyfriend who cut him off, even though he didn’t really want to. He thought it was right.

But she lied to my face.

As she has done repeatedly since summer.

Me and this guy were close friends but he just clearly doesn’t feel that way anymore, and I’m upset that we can’t be as close as we were because I trusted the liar. As I said, I’ll never stop feeling guilty about that. Not only did I put this guy through a hard time, but my boyfriend won’t ever fully get his best friend back because of me.

Then summer happened. My family can’t really afford holidays, so I stayed home. But everyone else left for ages. And I’d never felt more lonely. Ever. And it was really hard for me for some reason. I hated every minute of being alone. I also had art to catch up with and a bullshit job with a boss who acted like a bully.

When autumn came and we got back to school things were looking up again. I was with my friends every day, and I could see my boyfriend most days and weekends. I had more fallings out with the first friend I mentioned. The cheating best friend, got a new boyfriend.

She made me come on their first date, ‘for confidence’ she said. When we went out, she’d often pay for our meals because I was generally the more broke one and she said it didn’t matter. I paid for their meals because she put me on the spot after ordering lots. He stared at me and never even said thanks. If he would’ve offered to pay at least something I wouldn’t have been upset but he then told her he thought I was weird.

Then they found some place next to a river and told me to literally ‘fuck off on an adventure somewhere’ so they could get up to... something.

Note: this guy is the one she cheated on the last one with.

I walked home. She called later to ask why I left her alone and I wasn’t in the mood.

Recently, I’ve come second place to him. We always plan a New Year’s Eve get together at her house with a little bit of drink, and she seemed excited at first. But then suddenly, she had nothing and I couldn’t get any. Her house wasn’t free and mine wasn’t big enough for her to get drunk in, plus my brother is in the next room over and she always stays up late with loud music. The next day, she posted stories on everything with huge bottles next to him, saying she’d got them months ago. I was drinking alone and asked her why she didn’t tell me. She said there was only enough for the two of them. Should’ve guessed before, but clearly she didn’t want me getting in the way.

I quit my job. My boss and the senior employees acted like teenagers over a minor issue because I hadn’t been trained right. Neither was anyone, but I was told I was lying and I had been. My mum phoned in and that was me done. At least I got away from that bull.

Me and my boyfriend celebrated our 1 year anniversary together and we spoiled each other for Christmas. It was a real booster for me. I know I’ll always have him even when things get shit.

I know I’ve rambled lots considering literally no one will see this but I’ve made a decision. I’m gonna be the only person I know trying to change for the new year. Everyone says it, but every year they all disregard my efforts to be friendly and nice when they’re alone and can talk shit about me. I’m still the weird girl to everyone, but they’re not gonna say it out loud bc it wouldn’t ruin they’re reputation for being ‘nice’. I’ve decided if no ones gonna like me, I’m not gonna try anymore. I have few friends, and clearly my circle isn’t expanding. I’m not gonna wear myself down wondering why everyone is so adamant to hate me. I’m cutting any toxic bullshit in my life out starting now. Everyone else is gonna say they’ll change but year after year they still act like cunts, maybe they don’t realise it though.

And lastly, I’m gonna improve my relationships with the few friends I’ve got. If I don’t talk much, I’m sorry. I have a lot of shit to deal with but I’m gonna try to clear it up now. I need to make time for the positives and you’re all I got.

Happy new year.

#new year new me #happynewyear #2019

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wgwhite · 7 years

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Andy Weir’s ‘The Martian’, A review – Or: ‘How many potatoes can a man eat on Mars?’

Not since the Mountain faced off against the Red Viper have I felt quite so tense whilst viciously clutching a book between my frail man fingers.

I’m tempted to tell you to just read the book. Don’t read this, read the book! Fair warning, this review will feature spoilers. ‘Cause…I wanna talk about the book, OK?

The Martian, by Andy Weir is a roller-coaster on speed. It’s like watching your favourite comedian walking a tightrope between the London Shard and the Gherkin whilst doing his best routine with no safety harness and a swarm of angry, UKIP supporting super wasps doing fly by stingings. Sure, you’re laughing–but who knows when one of those bastard bugs’ll get a pot shot and the laughter goes tumbling back to Earth. Splat. Bye-bye laughter!

Tumbling back to Earth is something Mark Watney would have loved to do. Being stuck on Mars sounds…frightening. If you don’t know the story, here it is in a nutshell: Mark Watney, one of six Ares III crew members (a NASA organised manned Mars mission) finds himself stranded on the red planet when a nasty storm causes an emergency evacuation. On his way to the MAV (fancy speak for spaceship), Mark goes and gets himself a little bit impaled on flying debris and the rest of the crew shrugs apathetically, climbs into the rocket and slings their collective hooks. Bye-bye, Mark!

With only his super botany skills, above average mechanical engineering skills, and a whole boatload of smarts, Mark must find a way to resist Mars’ wiles and keep himself alive until he can be rescued. But with no way to communicate with NASA, and not knowing if anyone realises he’s even alive, Mark is faced with the damn right daunting reality that he’ll either have to survive until the next Ares mission (four years away), or die alone on a godforsaken rock.

He gets busy, gettin’ busy, I’ll tell ya that for free!

You might recall in my last review (David Brin’s Uplift), I mentioned that I’m a slow reader. Whilst that’s true, every rule has an exception. And The Martian is my exception. I read it in five days, which is a record for me. Others say they read it in a single sitting, but you know what, whatever. Five days is impressive, I don’t care what you think!

Every page of this book is a turner. Be prepared for a whole bunch of science, though. I’m not sure how accurate it all is; the last science I did was in secondary school, eight years ago. I did alright in GCSE science (B,B?). Either way, Weir clearly knows his stuff, and it’s incredible to see so much research and hard science in a work of fiction. It makes the entire thing that much more believable.

That said, this is a survival story to the bone. This is the sort of stuff Bear Grylls should be doing. Oh, you ate a live scorpion? Good for you, Bear. Mark Watney ate potatoes…which he grew…on Mars…after harnessing the bacteria in his own homemade chocolate pudding.

You crossed the Sahara Desert did ya, Bear? Very impressive, Bear. Well done, Bear! Mark Watney crossed MARS, Bear! He pimped a rover, and drove 3,200 kilometres with a radioactive radiator as his only source of heat!

Face it, Bear. You’ve been dethroned.

Just to clarify, I’m aware that Mark Watney isn’t real…but he is, so shush.

I’m not typically a fan of first person narratives, but this isn’t pure first person, so it’s fine. Not that there’s anything wrong with first person–a good story’s a good story–but I just prefer third person.

We, the audience, get semi-regular daily updates from Mark as he sits down and types out his misadventures. Should I say daily? Soly? Eh…anyway, I thought it was pretty neat of Mark to format his diary as one would a typical novel. 0.6” indent on new paragraphs. Double spaced. 0.5” margins. Thanks, Mark. Very considerate. Honestly though, that was the only thing that drew me out. Once. And it’s not something that can be helped, it was just a thought that paid me a visit whilst reading. Anyway, this format allows for plenty of interesting story telling tricks because everything’s told from a first person account of past events. So, a log entry can start (and often does) with something like:

“I f**ked up. I f**ked up big.”

And instantly my heart is racing. Whatcha do, Mark? Are you doomed? Don’t let it be so, Mark. You’ve gotta make it back! The world’s watching, Mark!

Mark Watney might just be my favourite fictional character in recent years. I actually care about this person. I care if he lives or dies. I’m invested in his survival. Well done, Weir. You made me care for a non-thing! Mark’s a funny, optimistic, ridiculously intelligent bloke. Yeah he swears, and he throws tantrums, but wouldn’t you in his shoes? His resourcefulness and ingenuity is utterly inspiring. Really, at the end, it begs the question: could I do what Mark Watney did? Even with the intelligence and training. Could I have lived alone, stranded on a world that doesn’t even support the simplest of bacterial life, for a year and a half? Would I have gone insane? Taken the easy way out? Or, more simply, would I have failed?

See, Mark falls down. He falls down a lot. But he also manages to dust himself off, and get back to it. So the message I’m taking away from The Martian is that of perseverance. When the universe decides to pile it on, when everything’s getting too damn much, I’m just gonna remember that Mark Watney endured a year and a half of disco music and nothing else, but despite that he remained a sane man.

What an inspiration.

* * *

The Martian is Andy Weir’s debut novel, and is soon to become one of those moving picture books staring Matt Damon and directed by Ridley Scott. Weir first self-published The Martian,but was later picked up by an agent which is both bloody rare, and really, really lucky for us all. I don’t know if I’d have heard of this fantastic book had it remained self-pubbed.

Check Andy Weir out here: http://www.andyweirauthor.com/

And check out The Martian here: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Martian-Andy-Weir/dp/0091956145/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1438977239&sr=8-1&keywords=the+martian

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poppedmusic · 7 years

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When In Manchester 2017

15th April 2017

Words: Julia Grantham Photos: Lydia Maycock

Are you familiar with the phrase: “Don’t open all your Christmas presents at once?” Or words to that effect. I think it means something along the lines of: Good Things Come to Those Who Wait. Hopefully my friends from the band, Cupids, won’t mind that I borrowed the title of their debut single for this, here, introduction to a very special, independent and relatively new festival. After all, Cupids (formerly Gramotones) performed in the very first When In Manchester in April 2016 and when I interviewed them for Popped Music in October 2015, they asked me to give a “shout out” to Ethan and The Reformation. A band that I have wanted to see and write about ever since, and who I saw perform a full set on Saturday for the first time. So here we are. I finally saw them on Saturday 15th April 2017, among several other fantastic artists, all of whom, I can’t wait to tell you about here.

Abigail Richardson, Nicole Buzz, Miriam Rahimov and Ellen Offredy are the four young women who are responsible for putting this festival together. Between them, they promote, create and manage this festival, as well as other bands. And their efforts and vision, their creativity and flair, their humble, friendly approach is collectively a perfect summary of Manchester. I met all of them on Saturday. They were all smiley, friendly, pleased to meet me and had little pieces of sunshine in their eyes.

First, we saw The Strawberries, from Leeds! My home town, and a band I’d been fortunate enough to see at my favourite ever gig venue: The Brudenell Social Club back in October 2016 when they’d headlined The Games Room show alongside Cupids, Bang Bang Romeo and another whose name I forget. I loved their attitude from the start: cheeky Yorkshire banter. I get that. That’s me all over. A confident, loud, heavy bass led intro led straight into their first hook: Fantasy Machine. A great opener which led straight into the fabulous Caramel Eyes. Steady, rhythmic guitar riffs, building up the bass and percussion with each one, The Strawberries know how to attract their audiences with a combination of attitude, humour and tempo. A great track about being attractive, and attracted. Clever. Sitting Idol is slow and dreamy, a nice antithesis to Caramel Eyes. At this point, people are dancing around at the front, spilling in from the back. Did I say you needed to watch this band in a small venue while you still can? I noticed throughout Whirlpool, Heavy Head and Whiplash, how well the three guitars and percussion worked. Being a pianist, I always notice the use or absence of a keyboard but they do the pingy high notes on guitar to great effect. I was waiting for my favourite and super awesome finish track – Laburnum House. I think I danced. A bit. I sang a bit, too. This band know what they’re doing. They lick the mic’, they’re fast, they’re confident. But they’re friendly.

Popped photog for the festival, Lydia, and I went off and discussed our next move. We’d decided to be fair to each other when choosing bands. My definite-could-not miss band was Ethan and The Reformation. Hers: Jordan Allen. That meant Kashmere had to be a miss this time around. Lydia suggested Sapho. I knew nothing of them but went with the flow and wow! I am always intrigued when I see a simple three piece. I instantly think Nirvana. I was waiting with nervous anticipation.

Their set consisted only of five songs. But each one seemed effortless, cohesive and not a note out of place. The Smiths were playing in the background as they were setting up. They had a good reputation was what I was hearing from others as we waited for the music to start. Opener, Change, was bass led, and reminded me of 70s rock. Each band member was in perfect harmony with each other, not just melodically but in sync: I later learned by talking to them that they’d worked on Liam’s GCSE music project together. They were school friends and that bond really showed. I loved the fact that the drummer was wearing a red and black checked shirt. I have one of those and so does a friend. Radio reminded me very much of Aneurysm by Nirvana. It had heavy bass interwoven with pitchy vocals, a bass led and percussion bridge and was just so catchy and and solid. No backing vocals, but it didn’t matter! I loved the wonderfully slow, and paced 70s style finish.

Ethan & The Reformation – I was finally getting to see them! Cupids had recommended them to me. Sometimes in life we’re given chances and opportunities but the timings just aren’t right. But, Saturday 15th April was the night. During the sound-check I noticed a good few eager faces milling around. I was standing right at the front, having secured my place to centre stage left, I like the viewpoint from the left, everything sweeping out to the right and I had table for my drink and a wall to lean against. The warm-up was perpetuated with strong heavy bass. I mean this was just a sound-check: but it was great! It had soul.

When they came back on stage to start with Free from Everything, I clocked three guitars, akeyboard and some drums. James Corderio showed the audience the back of his bass guitar. It said: “fuck off” written in black marker pen. Love it. I heard a Sergeant Pepper stylie sitar sound on guitar (I was later told this was an influential album) and this made for a long dreamy introduction. Very, very heavy on bass and I was reminded of a hash-tag on twitter that I’d used: amps in yer face. The sound they created just boomed. Brilliant. Fractaline Fantasies came next and was a slow but sure number. I loved Lost in Wonder. All at once it was a bass meets high sustained and distorted guitar and keyboard notes (I think) in any case it sounded like sound effects from space. I loved it because it really fused the sounds of the past with eerie futuristic sounds of what will become of life I the future? I feel like it was supposed to be thought-provoking. For me it was very post-modern. Sublime. At some point I stopped taking notes and just danced.

Last but by no means least we covered Jordan Allen. He was at The Night & Day Cafe, a venue which has a special place in my heart. I threw open the back doors there once and recorded a song. But anyhoo, Lydia was keen to see Jordan, having met and photographed him before. I’d not heard a note by him, but instantly loved the fact that his sound-check was Minority by Green Day. I think I counted nine amps on stage. The drummer was topless with tattoos and had a blue towel around his shoulders. I could tell this was going to be a loud and fun performance! There were lots of people milling around and waiting for the start. Jordan Allen was one of the headliners across the four venues in The Northern Quarter and you could tell that there were plenty of people eagerly awaiting this set. The opening track, Dancing In the Dark, was a fast, and slick performance. Before it ended, the venue was full. As I glanced around, people had secured their places at the front, and more than a handful of people were dancing, tapping their feet and clearly had an affection for this song. Uncharted Youth followed and was a slower and more purposeful number than the previous hook where as Imperial Leather was a humorous nod to the ubiquitous shower gel I can only assume! This track was very well appreciated and known to the crowd. A three-part harmony made it a very cohesive sound and had a very raw quality to it. It was during this song that Jordan announced to the audience that it was “good to be home”. Bless him. I love Manchester. This is a rising star, folks.

When In Manchester was the first festival I have ever covered for Popped Music and it was both a delight and honour to be able to do so, to share my experience with so many, make memories, meet my friends, new bands and make new friends. I paid £8 for my ticket. Insanely cheap, but I couldn’t possibly put a price on what it meant to me. I’ll be back at Christmas for part four – I’ll see you there!

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Live Review: When In Manchester 2017 When In Manchester 2017 15th April 2017 Words: Julia Grantham Photos: Lydia Maycock Are you familiar with the phrase: “Don't open all your Christmas presents at once?” Or words to that effect.

#festival #Festival Review #manchetser #Music #new music #Review #when in manchester

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