The Betelgeuse sign lights up the stage in neon.

I’m not sure how we ended up seeing so much theatre recently, but tonight we went to see the West End transfer of Beetlejuice The Musical.

Based on the film but not the same, the musical makes Beetlejuice the main onstage character, and Lydia (played by Hannah Nordberg) has a more developed story arc, mourning her dead mother, than happens in the film.

Mainly, it’s a funny show that breaks the fourth wall and talks to the audience, with plenty of contemporary references and a Radio 2 tote bag. This may seem odd, and I had to look it up. In London, this is used in place of the NPR equivalent in US productions. Having a demon offer the tote bag as a symbol of the underworld to middle-class theatregoers is a bit of fun poked at the stalls; it stands out as both ridiculous and charming. Very much like the whole production.

David Fynn (who we last saw in School of Rock) was excellent as Beetlejuice. He has a real stage-filling presence and has a much bigger role than the character does in the film, holding the whole plot together and breaking the fourth wall to talk to the audience. The staging changes frequently, perhaps too frequently, but is quite impressive. The music, however, is a little less memorable. Predictably, the easily remembered songs are those used in the film, originally by Harry Belafonte: Day-O (The Banana Boat Song) and Jump in the Line, which are what stick with you.

I thought Creepy Old Guy in Act Two was clever as it pokes fun at the source film’s plot device of having a centuries-old demon trying to marry a teenager. Dead Mom is delivered by some great vocals, and should be the emotional heart of the show, but writing this now, I only remember the song with the memory of the performance. Maybe I need to hear it again.

Don’t let that put you off. This is a self-referential, self-aware musical with comic bits and songs, meant to be enjoyed in the moment.

Go back three times if you dare.

The cast of Jesus Christ Superstar takes their bow.

It’s World Cup season, and if you heard somebody say it’s a game of two halves, you’d immediately assume they were talking about one of the matches on television, not the latest production of a West End musical.

The current production of Jesus Christ Superstar at the London Palladium is directed by Tim Sheader, who spearheaded the Regent’s Park Open Air Theatre production of this musical. In fact, the official website says, “The award-winning Regent’s Park Open Air Theatre production of Jesus Christ Superstar comes to the West End.” This has left me entirely bamboozled, because I saw that version in the park and was blown away, so much so that we went back to a concert version of it in 2020, when everybody, including actors, had to be socially distanced. Remember those days? This evening, I left the Palladium definitely not feeling that I had been blown away by what I had seen.

The current run is certainly marketed on the star performers playing the roles of Jesus and Herod. Pop-rock and Eurovision star Sam Ryder is Jesus, while the role of Herod is played by a revolving door of big names who drive the price of seats up. Tonight, it was Modern Family star Jesse Tyler Ferguson who was playing Herod. PY and I were a bit confused because, when we originally looked at ticket prices for his performances, they were through the roof, and we thought we had booked for one of the less well-known celebrities. Perhaps it’s best we don’t name them. Anyway, it turns out that wasn’t the case. I mention that because it should have added a bit of extra magic to our night. But…

I really don’t know how to describe how I felt about Act One, except that I walked into the interval bar, and when PY asked how I felt, I said it was as flat as a pancake, fully expecting one of our theatre disagreements. Yet we were both of the same opinion. Jesus Christ Superstar opens with much more of a bang, and this was a whimper. For many of the early scenes, Sam Ryder is wandering the stage, looking a bit lost, as if he stumbled into the Palladium by accident. And I really felt the whole of the first act didn’t use his voice to its full extent.

The rotating casting of Herod is, to me, a bit of a gimmick designed to drive up prices. Still, I can see how interesting it is to observe the role played by different people who may attract different audiences to the theatre. So, credit for trying to bring in more diverse audiences. But there’s a second gimmick, and I really don’t understand the point of this one.

In the Regent’s Park production, scaffolding was used as part of the backdrop and scenery and also served as a location for the orchestra. It provided a kind of urban realism and a rock-stadium aesthetic to a quite intense production. It’s been extended at the Palladium to allow for the sale of audience tickets on the stage. Tonight, I felt that this caused two problems.

The first is that, quite frankly, the people on stage are quite distracting. They’re standing, looking at the players, and many of them burst into grins as soon as an actor approaches them. Additionally, the gritty realism provided by the staging and enhanced by the lighting is ruined when an audience member wears bright clothing. A woman in my eyeline was wearing a long, flowing white skirt: a lovely summer outfit for our current weather, but not really in keeping with the atmosphere they’re trying to set. I learned later that on-stage audience members are asked to wear black. Perhaps they should enforce the rule, but I guess that’s pretty hard if you’re raking in the extra cash from the tickets.

The other issue I have with accommodating audience members on stage is that the performance area needs to extend into the auditorium. For this show, it’s more than I’ve ever seen at the Palladium. And that meant a huge swathe of the audience on the upper levels missed fairly extensive parts of the action. PY reckoned he’d lost sight of a third of the action. These tickets were not sold as restricted-view tickets, and many people missed the action for much of the evening.

Now, to me, Act Two was a totally different production. It came alive, and energy surged. Sam Ryder’s voice was properly shown off. Jesse Tyler Ferguson, camping up Herod a little bit, blew a lot of the other performances off the stage, and he’s only there for one song. Can’t knock him for taking the money, especially as he gave a great performance. I’m not sure I’d say the second half came anywhere close to the performance I remember from Regent’s Park, but it definitely improved my overall feeling about the evening.

I still haven’t figured out what the messages with the cast performing with handheld microphones mean, but I’m sure there’s something in it. And I can’t figure out why it switches from what are obviously wireless microphones to ones with enormously long cables. I can see the point of using one of them to tie up Christ; it’s probably some message that I’m not quite getting, but I wish I’d caught that bit.

There are other notable performances. David Thaxton is fantastic as Pontius Pilate; his performance is tremendously conflicted, for example, when he’s not sure what to do with Jesus. And, to be clear, Sam Ryder’s performance of Gethsemane is an example of why he should be so right for the role.

But somehow, it didn’t work for me. Flat seems like a good one-word description. JCS should be more, and the Palladium has all the pieces; they didn’t fit together for me. I can’t put my finger on why this lands differently from Regent’s Park. It can’t be simply because they’re now doing it with a roof.

I wholeheartedly recommend seeing something new instead.

This morning was almost a carbon copy of yesterday, although our seat on the open-top bus was considerably less breezy, and the choice we had for breakfast, “French toast”, was not as good as yesterday’s fare: no match for hash browns in flavour or portion. Corinne Atkins delivered another country-music morning, including some well-known songs and a Carrie Underwood cover that got me singing along, before we started the main-stage walk.

As with Wet Leg, Fugo Kid is a Platform One alumnus, and he was opening the main stage today. Wonderful to see more local talent on the main stage. I hope his hip-hop-infused music takes him places. There was definitely a group of supportive locals at the front, and it was nice to see a festival like this supporting local talent.

Next up, I’d expected Suzanne Vega to be one of my highlights. I love her music, and she was brilliant at the Royal Albert Hall last year. But, as with Alison Moyet last year, I think she packed her set with the wrong songs, in spite of opening with Marlene on the Wall. And then, in the end, she ended with Luka because she ran out of time for the song the crowd really wanted, Tom’s Diner. There was very obvious disappointment and confusion in the crowd as she left the stage. Obviously, I don’t know how they ended up in that position, but I would have hoped an artist of her stature and experience would have understood how to programme and time a festival set. I assume something that wasn’t obvious had gone wrong. Shame, but we did not let it get us down.

If that was the biggest disappointment of my 2026 festival, next up was, perhaps, the biggest surprise. Level 42 arrived on stage and commenced a forty-five-minute jazz, funk and pop set that was almost without a gap, and precisely to time. The Sun Goes Down (Living It Up) and Lessons in Love were highlights, and once again, they received local support, with the King brothers being originally islanders. I’ll be looking to see when they’re next playing nearby because it was a joyous set. What better way to spend an afternoon dancing, or trying to, in the sunshine?

Next, David Gray opened his set with Babylon, which caught the crowd’s interest from the very start. He surprised us with a Depeche Mode cover, Just Can’t Get Enough, before Sail Away. A solid, chilled set that was well appreciated in the blazing Sunday sun at Seaclose Park, but didn’t allow us to continue our Level 42-inspired grooving. Perhaps we needed to relax a bit as it was turning into a blazing hot afternoon.

By now, we were cooking and sought shade down by the River Stage, where, after a refreshing half-hour sitting down with a cold 7-Up, we watched Fever Dream Kills. Up front, a singer named Stars Walker was all tough vibes during the tunes and a softie when telling us the stories. Apparently, it was only the band’s 10th-ever gig, and the genuine excitement emanating from the stage was a bit infectious. Their cover of Spice Up Your Life is definitely another highlight, but shouldn’t overshadow their own powerful original compositions. Another new band found to follow.

That, to me, is perhaps one of the most important points of the festival. While all the headliners we’ve seen over the years have been good, the magic is in the other acts — some I’ve heard of, some I haven’t. We keep telling ourselves that one year, we will intentionally skip most of the main stage and spend time with all the other talent across the site. Maybe next year?

Next, to the Big Top. At the point we arrived, empty and technically in the shade, the heat was building. We were there for Rose Gray, another new British artist, part house music, part indie vibes. When it started, I was expecting more performance art than pure pop songstress. A story with a clothes rack full of outfits looked like it was about to unfold; there was a costume and shoe change, but then the idea fizzled out. That bit was bizarre. She is developing a following, many of whom were at the front singing along. I think it was a shame there weren’t more people to see it. Club To Your Arms is another track I discovered at my festival, but by the time it finished, I was glad to be out of the heat under the Big Top, where there was no breeze, and into the glare of the late-afternoon sun, where there was some air movement.

We were back at the country music venue for the Charnwood Country Collective, who did a set of country tunes that got a lot of us singing along, and again, a big turnout for the line dancers. We found a table and had dinner from Oink BBQ and allowed ourselves to relax for a while before the pilgrimage back to the main stage for The Cure, who were the last-night headliners.

We found a decent spot where we could see the band, hear the music and have a little bit of space away from the front. There seemed to be fewer people than had been around for Friday’s closing. It seems a number of people had headed out after The Kooks had finished their set. We hung around for about an hour, with Pictures of You being the only song vaguely recognised. The Cure were more my brother’s type of band when we were younger, and he is off to see them in Dublin shortly. It didn’t quite have the energy I wanted at that point in the evening, but I am glad I got to see a bit.

As we headed out, we stopped off at Hipshaker Lounge, where a Guilty Pleasures-style disco was just getting underway, and that was much more of an upbeat way to end our festival. As with every time we’ve been here, the bus back to Ryde is easy to get and runs frequently, even late at night.

I think this was my favourite year at the festival. Early-bird tickets for 2027 go on sale next week, and we’re already considering purchasing them. There’s something about music, familiar or not, even music I wouldn’t normally listen to, that’s captivating live. I wish I could do more of it.

We were rested, just about, by the time we were on board the open-top shuttle bus that whisked us to Seaclose Park for day two. The breeze was quite extreme, but I quite liked it. PY less so. My festival hat was tied under my chin to make sure I arrived at the field with it still in my possession. We were much earlier today, and the bus was not even half full. Our original intention had been to see a Frank Sinatra tribute. We ended up stopping off at The Last Chance Saloon, where there were picnic tables in the morning sun, with Andrew Jones performing a mix of his own music and country classics. When coupled with the excellent coffee we found and the hash browns with maple syrup and bacon bits for breakfast, it was the perfect way to start the day: relaxed, comfortable, and with a great soundtrack. I almost didn’t want the walk to the main stage.

But to the main stage we did go, and I am very glad we did. When there was a quick snippet of Wellerman, I immediately knew who we were watching: Nathan Evans and the Saint PHNX Band. The mix of traditional Scottish folk music and modern rock and pop was a fantastic way to start the day, with the crowd jumping along. It seems important that the early main-stage acts start to pull people forward, and this performance did so. And it wouldn’t be the only time throughout the day that No Scotland No Party was sung out by a Scottish performer to a small but loud group of Scots.

In fact, next up was KT Tunstall, who did her own shout with No Scotland No Party just before she introduced a surprise guest, Jack Savoretti, with whom she performed Tempting Fate. I think the crowd was surprised and excited to see a guest. It says a lot about modern news that, within a few minutes of them finishing the song, there was already a headline: “Surprise as special guest joins KT Tunstall on stage at Isle of Wight Festival.” I really enjoyed Look at Me Now, which she wrote, but it didn’t make the cut for The Devil Wears Prada 2. It was a rock-inspired act to keep the crowd bouncing.

Next, an artist who achieved multi-platinum international superstardom in the 2000s and is one of only a few performers who can go by a single name, and everybody knows who they are: Anastacia. On the way to the hits I remember (I was holding out for Left Outside Alone, and I was not disappointed), we got a cover of Guns N’ Roses’ Sweet Child o’ Mine, which was definitely a crowd-pleaser. If I’d heard it before, I’d forgotten 2001’s Paid My Dues, but I just added it to my playlist. It seems an appropriate song for a performer who has survived the music industry for as long as Anastacia has.

We stayed with the main stage, although PY ran off to find me a beer between sets, for boy band Five, or should I write 5ive? Formed in the late 90s, they were down to four in 2001 when Sean left. When he came back after The Big Reunion TV show, J didn’t. In 2014, Abz left, leaving three of them for about ten years. But another TV show, Boybands Forever (reminder to self: watch this), reunited them, and they’re now on a world tour. What’s best about this history is that by now they have worked out that a setlist full of hits works, and it was a highly choreographed fifty minutes of nostalgic 90s pop hits: Slam Dunk (Da Funk), If Ya Gettin’ Down, Keep On Movin’, We Will Rock You, Let’s Dance. It might not be cool, but it was unexpectedly polished, and sometimes pop bangers are what you need.

The nostalgia fest continued when Rick Astley arrived on the main stage. Although he opened with one of his own 80s pop hits, “Together Forever,” he played a less pop-hit-heavy set, which really showed that he has a great voice. He told a story before performing a cover of Roy Orbison’s Oh, Pretty Woman, in which he claims he was asked to sing for the movie Pretty Woman, but he turned it down, thinking nobody would go and see it. Obviously, a lot of us were waiting for Never Gonna Give You Up, which came at the end of the set, but I don’t think anybody was expecting the cover of RAYE’s Where Is My Husband!, which came early on and was superb. I like it when it’s full of surprises. The set was very varied, full of good songs and a smattering of Rick’s personality.

We started walking back to look for some food. But after Rick, the changeover showed the worst of the Isle of Wight Festival, as getting away from the main stage is a crush of crowds shuffling for twenty minutes. By the time we reached the food stalls, the queues were enormous. We had the option to watch Rita Ora from the back of the field or get food. We took the first option for the opening few numbers, but quite quickly headed to a quieter area for a Greek gyro, a sit-down and some decisions to make about what would be next. From the back, Rita, not sure she can go by one name alone, sounded slick and polished.

Calvin Harris was the day’s headliner, but although I imagine it would be a crowd-pleasing set of huge hits, it would predominantly be a DJ set, and I am lacking the stamina to be in a dance music mosh pit. So we decided to head in the opposite direction and returned to The Last Chance Saloon, via Berlingo Flick’s folk set in The Intoxicated Tearooms. In the country venue, Chasing Twisters were performing a set of country hits, which was a perfect way to end the day, although I wasn’t tempted to join the line-dancing rows in front of the stage.

A little earlier than last night, back in Ryde, we allowed ourselves to stop off for a sandwich and catch some of Calvin Harris’ set on the television. All amazing hits and an impressive light show before an enormous crowd. Maybe we were the only ones who headed out. But he was just pressing ‘play’, wasn’t he?

While Thursday night might officially be the festival kick-off for those on the campsites, for us, Friday afternoon is the starting point. This year, it seemed a little later than previously, and we had a goal of catching 90s Northern Irish rockers, Ash, on the main stage just after 4 p.m.

We’ve always been very lucky with the shuttle bus to the festival site, rarely having to wait long in either direction. This afternoon, just after 3 p.m., the queue was snaking across the bus station, and we definitely wouldn’t make the first bus, so we got two of the handful of remaining seats on the next one. With the sunshine, I was glad I had a hat. There was a queue of traffic on the climb out of Wootton Bridge, which I feared would mean a crawl to the festival entrance, but we pretty much reached the speed you’d expect for a slightly old, borrowed-from-the-mainland bus full of festival-goers and a surprising amount of luggage.

Once again, I was impressed by the organisation on the way in: a quick bag search, a wristband connected, and the twenty-minute walk from the entrance to the main stage began. As always, the flags were fluttering, welcoming us. Almost immediately, we noticed a new venue, The Last Chance Saloon, opposite the Electro Love tent. Country and folk music are definitely growing in popularity.

First stop: a tap to top up empty water bottles; second stop: a photo with the festival sign; third stop: the bar for a pint, making sure we used the PayPal debit card to secure the 20% off food and drink. Over the weekend, I imagine the savings will add up. There was a big turnout for Ash. I didn’t think I was familiar with their work, but, surprisingly, I discovered Shining Light and Girl From Mars, which burst that theory. Also, a cover of Jump in the Line seems to be one of their live performance standards and was perfect for getting the crowd singing along. It’s a strange cover and seemed a little out of context initially, but by the end, I was singing along with everybody else.

We stayed around for Alessi Rose, a Derby-born English pop songstress who seems to be on the up-and-coming list. It was a great pop set, and I thought she balanced the idea that a lot of the crowd wouldn’t know who she was very well. She’s got a lot of youthful energy and managed to build a connection with the crowd. First Original Thought is already on my playlist.

The trek back to Electro Love is long, but sometimes necessary. A couple of years ago, we caught ‘Real Dead Ringer’, a Meat Loaf tribute act, and they were fantastic, so we were determined not to miss them this year. It was a very energetic performance, which must have been hard work in the tent. Another set of all the biggest hits, including Dead Ringer, Two Out of Three Ain’t Bad, Dead Ringer for Love, and I’d Do Anything for Love, was over too quickly, although it was nice to escape the heat of the tent and wander back to the main stage.

Before the walk, a pit stop for dinner from a Mexican food truck. The caramelised aubergine burrito I had was flavour-packed and delicious. I am just glad I picked up a fork, because it would have been impossible to eat otherwise. My festival seat, really a mushroom-shaped stool, has been a real bonus, allowing me to rest and keep my feet from hurting too much. And I don’t need to try to sit on the floor.

Wet Leg were already on stage by the time we’d walked back. They are considered a local band, as some band members have lived on the island and are products of the local Platform One College of Music. I knew none of the songs until Chaise Longue was performed. We managed to get a decent position about halfway back in the standing area, but they used a lot of stage smoke, so I ended up watching the screens just to see the band. Obviously, there was a lot of support from the crowd, which created a great atmosphere.

As that was finishing, we made an exit to the ‘This Feeling’ tent to see Finn Forster, another up-and-coming British performer. The set was really good. He’s a confident performer, and it was well worth the little detour to a stage we don’t often visit.

Then it was the Friday headliner and BRIT Award winner, Lewis Capaldi. There was quite a crowd, and we watched from quite a way back in a little bit of space we’d carved out near the bar. The crowd was definitely up for a show, and by his own admission, there were a lot of ballads, but nobody was bothered. After about half an hour, though, we decided that it would look even better on Sky Arts later and opted for the bus.

Vintage 1967 Blackpool Illuminations poster, on show at Showtown.

These days, Blackpool isn’t quite the same as it was during the golden age of seaside entertainment, when comedians, singers, and variety acts filled theatres all summer. At least, that’s my assumption. I wasn’t around for the so-called heyday.

Back then, I imagine, the promenade was full of laughter, music, and the smell of chips and vinegar, with neon lights promising fun everywhere you looked. Most of that world has faded as holidays changed and entertainment moved on, but the Showtown museum, which we found almost by accident today, does a great job of showing why Blackpool was once one of Britain’s top holiday spots.

The museum is just off the promenade, tucked away (almost) behind the Tower. I don’t think many people find it by chance, which is a pity. The exhibition celebrates Blackpool as a place built on entertainment, escape, magic, bright lights, performance, and the belief that everyone deserves to have fun.

I really enjoyed visiting and would recommend it to anyone.

After you pass the entrance and gift shop and head upstairs past the handy lockers, the museum tells Blackpool’s story with a good mix of objects, films, photos, and interactive displays. It’s easy to get around, well laid out, and really helps you see everything Blackpool has offered over the years. One of the first things I did was look through a beachside telescope to see old photos from Wakes Weeks, which were especially interesting. There were lots of black-and-white pictures of people on the beach, all dressed in their best clothes instead of swimsuits. Those photos showed a time when whole towns would head to the seaside together, looking for the fun that Blackpool was made for: factories closed, bags packed, trains full, and everyone was off for a week by the sea with friends and neighbours.

That history meant a lot to me because Blackpool was part of my childhood too. My grandparents spent many holidays there during the Wigan holiday weeks, so we often visited as kids. One of our family traditions was driving through the Illuminations with Dad, watching the lights go by from the back seat. I was always excited to spot the illuminated trams travelling along the Prom. Seeing that story in the museum, with many of the famous Illuminations designs on display, made the experience feel personal.

The Illuminations section was one of my favourite parts. It treated something that might seem like a cheesy seaside show with respect. Of course, it is a contrived spectacle, but when I was eight, it was an exciting one. Blackpool has always known how to put on a show, whether that’s lighting up the promenade, filling a (Strictly) ballroom, hosting variety acts, or giving people stories to share on the way home while eating fish and chips.

I also enjoyed the displays about dance. Blackpool’s links to ballroom dancing, social dancing, and nightclubs (sometimes that early-90s late-night student favourite, The Hitman and Her, was filmed here) give the town a history that’s both glamorous and down-to-earth. You can even stick your head through a slot and try all the dances without moving a muscle. It’s not just about TV shows; it’s about people dressing up, going out, and having fun, especially when this was their one week off from factory work.

Showtown isn’t a large museum, so it’s easy to visit in about an hour. It wasn’t crowded when we went, which made it simple to get around and try out the interactive displays. There’s plenty to think about, lots to make you smile, and many things to try, all helping you appreciate a town that has spent generations entertaining people.

Visiting left me feeling even more fond of Blackpool. For all its jokes, kiss-me-quick hats, and neon lights, Blackpool has brought a lot of happiness to many people, including my family. Showtown shares that story with warmth and just the right amount of showmanship.

Beverley Knight owns the stage on her Born To Perform Tour.

I must have said it somewhere before: when I go to a gig, I like to hear the stories behind the songs or the recordings. It doesn’t matter if the setlist is simply a sequence of songs the artists thought would sound great, or if it’s a list where the songs become a story. Beverley Knight’s show at Blackpool Opera House tonight was very much the latter. I loved the energy of the evening, and judging by the audience, who were on their feet by the end, we weren’t alone.

The evening kicked off early. Around 5pm, we arrived at the Blackpool Opera House and were given a lanyard and a goodie bag. About thirty minutes later, a small group of us got to go into the theatre for the ‘soundcheck’—an extra experience you can add to your ticket. There were probably about forty of us. It wasn’t the actual soundcheck, but Beverley performed a couple of songs and answered questions from fans. People asked things like who she’d like to collaborate with, and someone even said hello who went to her school in Wolverhampton. It was great to hear some stripped-back songs and have a chat before we left for a drink and then came back for the main show.

The first half of the show was all about her journey in soul music. She opened with “Were You There” as a tribute to Sam Cooke, who has been a huge inspiration for her. That gave the start a real gospel vibe before she moved into her own story; singing in church, showing early talent in British soul, and going through the highs and lows of a long career. It was a great way to set the mood for the rest of the night.

Songs like “Flavour of the Old School,” “Made It Back,” and “Shoulda Woulda Coulda” tell the story of her early days. But BK’s career hasn’t always been a smooth ride. Some of her early records received a lot of praise from critics but didn’t get as much attention as they deserved. Later on, around the time of Affirmation, she found more success, but it also meant facing new pressures and making some compromises to reach a larger audience.

Every song shared a piece of her story, but the most personal moment came later in the first set. “No One Ever Loves in Vain” was especially moving. Knight sang it as a tribute to her friend Tyrone Jamison, who died from AIDS. That would be touching on any night, but on Saturday, 6 June, with Blackpool Pride happening nearby, it felt even more powerful. The song about memory, friendship, grief, and defiance really connected with the audience, who showed their support with cheers from all around the hall.

Of course, she performed some Prince covers. “Raspberry Beret” and “I Feel for You” made it clear how much Prince has influenced her and showed how she fits into the bigger soul and pop world. One of the highlights was hearing her talk about the songs, especially her memories of meeting and playing with Prince at his famous post-concert shows at Indigo O2.

It’s not common for a gig, but after the support act (the fantastic Gabriella Cilmi), the Born To Perform tour had two sets with a break in between. The second half focused on her theatre career, starting with “Memory” from Cats, which was a powerful way to kick things off. I don’t think I’ve ever heard a version so amazing and strong. After that, she performed songs from the shows that have shaped this part of her career: The Bodyguard with “Queen of the Night,” Sister Act with “Take Me to Heaven,” The Drifters Girl with “Harlem Child,” Memphis with “Love Will Stand,” and Sylvia with “March, Women, March.” It really showed how her voice has moved from soul music into musical theatre without losing any of its power. If the first half was about Beverley Knight, the soul artist, the second half was about Beverley Knight, the storyteller.

When she got to “I Am What I Am” and the final “fire” medley, the whole room felt like a party. The ending was full of energy and generosity, and the encore brought the night to a close with everyone back on their feet. “Soul Survivor” feels like the show’s message: a story of persistence, talent, and survival. After that, Gabriella Cilmi came back on stage to sing “Everything’s Gonna Be Alright” with Knight.

It was the perfect way to end the night. After a show that took us through gospel, British soul, loss, pride, theatre, and celebration, everyone left feeling warm and hopeful. This journey through BK’s career was more than just a greatest-hits show; it told her life story through songs and stories, with a voice that can fill a room with joy. Netflix should make this into a music documentary; it’s such an uplifting story.

Beverley Knight, Born To Perform Tour tickets are still on sale for dates across the UK.

The dark of the moon has never looked so inviting.

I hadn’t heard of Dark of the Moon until we came across a ticket offer for tonight. Charing Cross Theatre is turning into a great spot for new (to us) musicals—we’ve seen Mythic, Violet, and Stiletto there over the past few years.

I don’t know the play Dark of the Moon is based on, but apparently it’s reasonably well regarded, according to The Internet. But I have to get this out of the way right at the start: the plot is preposterous. A witch boy falls for a human girl, strikes a deal to become mortal, and everything unravels when small-town prejudice and temptation intervene. It is a supernatural folk story, and I guess there is no rule that says it needs to be plausible. But it takes a bit of time to flip the switch that allows it to seem normal.

Richardson and Berney wrote this in 1945, and yet it doesn’t feel like a period story. Sure, the setting of a tight-knit Appalachian community closing ranks against what it doesn’t understand is not familiar (perhaps with the exception of some country music songs), but the dynamic is not. Intolerance doesn’t need a small town; it just needs enough people convinced they’re protecting something worth protecting. And that seems like a very contemporary theme to me.

What impressed me almost immediately was the staging. For what I believe is still an early-stage production, Libby Todd’s set is simple, but cleverly used. The village opens up to reveal its houses and shops, then closes back in to create a village square — or clears itself entirely to give the witches their performance space. Better still, the building rooftops serve as the witch world’s domain, a neat metaphor for the coven’s life high in the Smoky Mountains above the town.

The music and lyrics come from Grammy Award-winning, multi-platinum-selling songwriters Lindy Robbins, Dave Bassett and Steve Robson, and you can hear the quality in it. Ordinary Life, one of the opening numbers and recurring themes, sounds right out of the bluegrass country that I imagine when somebody says Smoky Mountains, yet it is also contemporary. Where some reviewers have found the blend of country, bluegrass and rock uneasy, I thought the rockier numbers integrated well. They bring a burst of energy at times. Certified Rockstar, in particular, is a genuine stand-out, a song that could hold its own in a much bigger show.

Much of the credit for that goes to Glenn Adamson as John, the Witch Boy. He is, possibly, best known for playing Strat in Jim Steinman’s Bat Out of Hell, and those echoes can be heard in the production. Adamson, in full rock-god mode, is captivating, and he brings to life John’s bewilderment at everything it means to be human, with the full spectrum of emotions, which keeps the character interesting even when the plot strains credibility.

One dramatic device did wear on me, however. A character from the past — a former witch, a kind of predecessor whose fate shadows the whole story — is sign-posted rather too heavily from early on. The telegraphing is so persistent that the eventual revelation lands with a “d’oh” rather than a gasp. I can’t remember the name you should be listening out for.

The ending. I won’t spoil it, but I left the theatre wishing the writers had taken the other path — the one I’d hoped for — even if that might have strayed too far from the source material. Perhaps my preference for the alternative ending means the show has done its job of making me care.

Nominated for thirteen Fringe Theatre Awards, and not without reason. A flawed but genuinely interesting piece of new musical theatre, with several star performances at its centre: I didn’t mention Barbara Allen (Lauren Jones), who is also fantastic. Go and fill the theatre.

Local radio in the 1980s

When I was in Shrewsbury last weekend, at the house I grew up in, I ventured into the loft to rummage through some tea chests still stored there. They’re proper old-fashioned tea chests and were used to pack our belongings when we moved in the early 1980s. They make great storage boxes in the loft, and still seem solid and robust to this day.

As I rummaged, I found a plastic bag all sealed with sellotape marked ‘radio autograph cards’. I have no recollection of this bag, so I opened it and uncovered almost 100 DJ cards; the kind of thing that radio stations would send out when somebody wrote in asking for a DJ’s autograph. To this day, there’s a box behind where I work containing radio cards from stations I used to listen to regularly. But this set was different.

What struck me about this group was that there are 14 radio stations represented in the collection, from Northsound Radio at the top of Scotland, via Pennine Radio, Radio Trent, Chiltern (Bedfordshire, Northamptonshire, Hertfordshire, Buckinghamshire), County Sound, Radio Mercury around London, to Invicta Sound on the south coast. None of those stations could be received where I lived. There are cards from Red Rose, Signal and Beacon, which I could hear but didn’t listen to that often, but the vast majority were of people I never listened to on stations I never heard. And yet, the stations would still send these out to any radio fanatic who wrote a letter. As a kid, I thought it was amazing to get all the cards from across the country.

I should note it’s not 100 unique cards; there is some duplication, but not a lot. They’re all more-or-less A6-sized, although I can’t work out why 2CRs are taller than all the others, and Pennine Radio’s smaller. Although Pennnie’s are co-branded ‘Yorkshire Radio Network‘, which dates them back to sometime between 1987 and 1989, if this rather sparse Wikipedia page is to be believed. They are also the only ones where you can peel off the back and stick Tim Finlay, or any other presenter of choice, to something.

I suspect they are all from around that time. It’s fun to look back at them now and see what they tell us about the world in the 80s.

The majority are black and white, but Invicta, Red Rose and some Signal cards are in colour, so cost is a major concern when you’re printing thousands of these things to hand out from reception or on roadshow days. Some are stiffer card or better paper stock, some have a bit of a glossy feel, while Mercia’s Jeff Harris is in full colour, but on a folded bit of paper with an ad for Prontaprint branches around the Coventry area on the front. Signal stuck an ad for Pennie Kitchen Studios (“North Staffs Biggest & Best Kitchen Specialists”) on the back of some of them, whereas Red Rose have a 7Up sponsor logo and a “photograph by Images of Preston” on theirs, which might explain how they can invest in full-colour cards.

Many are blank on the back; I guess one-sided printing was cheaper. The Chiltern group cards have a mini biography on the reverse, and it’s how I know Martin Collins’ hobbies include water skiing and holidays, and that Paul McKenna was a 23-year-old bachelor when the photo was taken, with no mention of hypnotism. Radio Mercury uses the reverse to promote a list of available station souvenirs, from ballpoint pens and headphone bugs to “tee shirts” and “sweat shirts”, but sadly no prices, which would be fascinating to read today. The reverse of all the Invicta cards is laid out like a proper postcard with space for a message and an address, and a square in the top right for the stamp. I wonder if, when rebelling on the pirate ships, Roger Day thought he might end up as a photograph on the front of a postcard? I wonder who got posted around Kent more, Roger, or Julie Jambuster (was that her real name)?

Roger Day wears a tie in that photo, as do a good number of the presenters, which I think shows that the 1980s still thought professionalism meant a tie. Signal Radio’s Alex Roland is sporting the uniform of most 80s radio presenters, the silk-effect bomber jacket with his name embroidered on the front. Red Rose’s Keith Macklin is in a suit, but perched on the side of a stand at what I assume is some local football stadium. Anton Andrews, of the same station, is photographed on top of a tank, his colleague Sally Moon, whistfully looking back, on a chair, while Derek Wbster is in front of a road sign, holding a map. I wonder what that had to do with his presentation of Just The Tonic? Red Rose’s John Gillmore is the only one to have a comedy photograph, with the front of the card showing his back and his beaming face printed on the reverse, “Yes, it’s Gilly!”

Of course, a good few people are pictured in radio studios. 2CR’s Sally Winter is in front of the control desk answering the phone, while Northsound’s Bobby Hain is also in front of a desk but not pretending to be on the telephone. His very thin tie shouts 1980s. Chiltern’s Tom Hardy, “lives in Luton and is Head of Music,” and his “family man” colleague, Bill Young, are both pictured with a pair of industry-standard Beyerdynamic headphones around their necks. Any self-respecting radio presenter of the period would have at least one headshot with those headphones in their collection.

At the time, all the names would have been known locally, but I would have known very few of them. Some, like Mercury’s Ed Stewart and the aforementioned Roger Day, were big stars from other stations earlier in their careers. Others, like Chiltern’s Collins and McKenna, would go on to have national platforms, and more are very well-known names in the radio industry. Only one is not of a real person. County Sound’s Brewster Mouse looks delightful in the photo on the card, but in a picture somebody posted to Facebook, it’s human-sized and dwarfs small children, and I can’t see how that wasn’t terrifying.

While I called this post “Autograph Cards,” very few are autographed, though a small number are. There’s a “best wishes” and a “love”, and most look genuinely signed. County Sound’s Mark Walker either had a pen that matched the print’s blue colour, or it was part of the card.

But, I think, the only card that truly meets expectations, a solid black and white photograph, decent paper stock, no sponsor branding and taken in front of the pile of station “carts” and, most importantly, is personalised with an “all the best Jonathan” is Northsound’s Mike Holloway. I’m sorry I lived too far south to ever hear you across Aberdeen, Mike, but thanks for taking the time to make my day. Because I know for sure, whatever these cards look like now, back when I opened the envelope to see them, they were, to me, better than getting that missing Panini soccer sticker.

Today’s question is, “Are they worth preserving?” They are a snapshot of a bygone era. There must have been thousands of these in circulation. What should I do with them?

When Sleeping Beauty’s Castle Gets a Steampunk Makeover

It seems like I am in the mood to write reviews this week. So here comes another one. I do not expect this trend to continue all year.

Sleeping Beauty at the London Palladium – A 10th Anniversary

If you’re heading to the London Palladium expecting a sweet, Disney-fied retelling of Sleeping Beauty, you’ve clearly missed the memo of the last decade. Now in its 10th anniversary year, the Palladium pantomime (this year there’s a Sleeping Beauty plot somewhere) has faced a wave of headlines from outlets like Metro, branding it a “smut-fest” after reports of families walking out. But let’s be honest: if people are still shocked by the innuendo after ten years of this specific brand of comedy, that’s on them. This isn’t just a panto; it’s an institution with a well-established “adults-first” policy. Do your research. I really don’t have much sympathy for people who don’t know what this is. Although I do expect news outlets to run with and embellish this story every year.

What makes this year feel different is how self-referential the show has become. It’s been heading this way for a while, but this year’s opening retrospective is a masterclass in nostalgia, setting a tone that feels less like a fairy tale and more like the series finale of a beloved sitcom. Like the best long-running comedies, the jokes here are funnier because we’ve come to know the characters: we know Nigel Havers will be the charming punching bag, and we know Julian Clary will have a new, increasingly ridiculous entrance, and make a gag about somebody’s hand on it.

This “insider” feel is probably the secret to its enduring appeal for the regulars, but it does make me wonder: what do the newbies think? If you haven’t been along for several of the last nine years of lore, you might feel like you’ve crashed a private party.

Amidst this whirlwind, the show’s ringmaster is Rob Madge as the Diva of Dreams. While the rest of the cast seems content to let the plot drift out of the stage door in favour of sketches, Madge is the one who keeps the show flowing. They act as the essential “glue,” holding onto the limited plot and preventing the evening from devolving into a disjointed series of routines. Madge brings a modern, theatrical energy that bridges the gap between the “old guard” and the new.

The big draw this year is Catherine Tate as the boo-able Carabosse. While she delivers exactly what the crowd wants (including a show-stopping appearance of “Nan”), I had a nagging sense that she is underused. Tate is a comedy powerhouse, yet she often feels relegated to “special guest” status. Between the impressions and the sketches, you can’t help but feel she could have given even more if the script allowed her to go beyond her “greatest hits” reel.

There is no denying that Julian Clary is the heart of this machine. However, this year feels more like “The Julian Clary Show” than a balanced ensemble piece. In years past, the magic came from a heavyweight team; the presence of the late Paul O’Grady, the charm – and songs – of Gary Wilmot, or the triple-threat energy of Charlie Stemp provided a balance that kept the show from relying too heavily on one person. While Clary holds it all together with effortless camp, the absence of those contrasting “anchors” is felt.

Visually, the staging is bigger, better, glitzier, and (probably) more expensive than ever. From the neon sets to the “forest of thorns” in Act 1, the production values are impressive. However, some elements are starting to feel familiar. Paul Zerdin remains a master ventriloquist, but after a decade, his routine lacks “newness.” When a show becomes this self-referential, there’s a fine line between a “classic callback” and just running out of fresh material.

It’s still a 5-star spectacle with heights of staging wizardry. It’s loud, it’s proud, and it’s very, very blue. If you want a plot, go elsewhere. If you want to see the most expensive variety show in London anchored by the King of Innuendo, there’s no better place to be. It helps if you’ve watched the “previous seasons” to get the most out of the jokes.

I loved it (again).

Didn’t sleep well. The flat downstairs had music going in the early hours. Still, we were up reasonably early and on the bus back to the festival, where we managed to get our hands on a bacon roll and a coffee before things got going. The queue was moving, but the bacon wasn’t cooking quickly enough for demand. It’s my view that there are remarkably few bacon roll vendors for a festival.

First up on the Main Stage was Björn Again, doing a 40-minute ABBA tribute set: a total crowd-pleaser – big energy, lots of singalongs, and the kind of opening that sets the tone nicely for a Sunday. Then came Ella Eyre. I didn’t know her music beforehand, but the set was packed with great pop tunes. She kept saying the crowd would need to help her out, which, at first, I thought was just the usual festival banter – but part-way through, she ran off stage, leaving 15 minutes of her slot unplayed. She later posted an emotional apology on social media. I thought her vocals sounded great while she was on, so it came as a bit of a surprise to hear that her voice had gone.

Alison Moyet followed, opening with Nobody’s Diary – written when she was still a teenager with Yazoo. The rest of the set was a mix of lesser-known tracks, at least to me, but her voice was powerful throughout. Sadly, I think she lost the crowd a little bit with the less well-known tunes.

Like lots of people, we rushed across to The Big Top for Midge Ure. Scheduling him so close to Alison Moyet – but on a different stage – didn’t make a lot of sense. By the time we arrived, it was full, so we stood outside and watched the screen. Worth it, though. A brilliant set. Vienna was in there, obviously, but also Fade to Grey (which he co-wrote for Visage), which was a real highlight.

When we made it back to the Main Stage, Olly Murs was already well into his set, dedicating Dear Darlin’ to Caroline Flack. From our position at the back, the screens were essentially dots, but the energy still carried.

We stayed in the same spot for Texas, but the wind had picked up and the sound wasn’t really carrying. We were in a patch of crowd mostly made up of large seated groups, treating it more like a garden party with background music. That, and the wind, meant we couldn’t hear much of Sharleen Spiteri’s chat between songs – a shame, as I usually enjoy on-stage banter from the artists.

We looked at the rest of the line-up and decided nothing else was enough to keep us from the return trip, so we hopped on the bus back, picked up fish and chips, and watched Jess Glynne’s set on the telly. Much better sound, full picture, and no one setting up a picnic in front of us. Just a shame Sky Arts aren’t showing Justin Timberlake’s headline set – but still, can’t really complain.

Another festival all wrapped up.

Day Two started off with a bit of a curveball, finding ourselves at the Sky Lounge just as an unexpected light rain shower decided to make an appearance. We had a seat but no shelter. I had a beer, and PY did not have the cocktail he wanted from the bar menu.

Once it cleared, we made our way to the Main Stage for Mae Muller. This was her first festival in two years – she seemed very excited by that. She dedicated her new single to all the “overthinkers” in the audience, and of course, she wrapped up with her Eurovision hit.

Next up, we headed towards the River Stage, ready to catch The Deckchairs. There had been so many social media whispers about a special guest, and it turned out to be the man who organises the whole festival – a nice surprise, though maybe not as explosive as some of the rumours suggested!

From there, it was off to The Big Top to see Matilda Mann: genuinely good. After that, we tried our luck at the This Feeling tent for Masi Masi, but it was just a bit too indie-rock loud for PY. We attempted to navigate the crowds towards Razorlight, but it was absolutely packed, so we ended up finding a tree to shelter under for a bit, this time avoiding the sun.

Back to The Big Top for Arthur Hill, who I’d never heard of, but he sounded good. He already has a massive following. I think he’s big on TikTok, because he managed to fill that tent. We ducked out just before the end to grab a front-row spot for The Queenbees back at the River Stage. They were brilliant, doing new interpretations of classic covers with some really tight harmonies.

Then it was the familiar weaving through the masses to catch Busted on the Main Stage – a fun blast from the past with all their hits. As that crowd started to thin out, we pushed forward for Paul Heaton ft. Rianne Downey, who put on an excellent set, all classics. Paul even joked about “Welcome to Heatongrad”, probably not making the Sky Arts coverage, which got a laugh.

The crush walking away from the Main Stage after that was just horrendous. I still don’t understand why security doesn’t do more to stop people from just sitting down in the middle of the pathways – it makes it impossible to move.

We eventually decided we needed a break and grabbed some Greek food from one of the vans. By the time we’d finished eating, fatigue had set in, and the allure of our bus home was stronger than the walk back to the Main Stage. Same routine as yesterday: Sainsbury’s for tomorrow’s lunch supplies, and then straight back to the flat.

I’ve never been happier to take my shoes off.

Another year, another Isle of Wight Festival! Today—well, the early afternoon—kicked off with a familiar pilgrimage: a quick pit stop at Sainsbury’s for the obligatory meal deal (mainly for the chilled water, as it was already feeling quite warm outside). Then it was onto the shuttle heading towards Seaclose Park. All sorts of different people, costumes, and an inflatable jungle scene. That was the mood express to the Festival Bus Station.

As with last year, entry was a breeze; they’ve really got it cracked (at least, if you come by bus). Wristband secured, signifying the ability to roam all weekend, we got searched for alcohol, and then the trek began. The long walk towards the main stages, with the flags fluttering in the breeze, feels familiar and, therefore, welcoming. We took the walk and pretty much decided to stick to the Main Stage end of the park today.

First order of the day was a beer. Though the ‘snake queue’ system at the bar felt a bit much for that time of day, there was but a handful of us. While I was waiting, the barman spotted some blood on my thumb. No idea where I’d cut myself, but he was brilliant and went off to grab an antiseptic wipe and a plaster; not sure if some health and safety protocol was broken, but he was great. It throbbed a bit for half an hour—nothing too serious, thankfully.

It turns out that the real gem of the day was the first act we saw: The Lottery Winners—funny and energetic. They knew how to connect with the crowd, managing to be both emotional and utterly engaging. After their brilliance, we decided to wander and got caught in a few unexpected minutes of light rain. We ducked under cover for a short time before we ended up watching a round of ‘sock wrestling’ on one of the alternative stages. Do they have that at Glastonbury?

Then, a more sedate beer by the river before we caught Sophie Grey on the River Stage. She had this fantastic 80s electro sound that felt current. I thought, “She’d be brilliant at a party!”—really good fun, but maybe not the response she’d have been looking for.

Next, it was Amy Macdonald on the main stage. I thought I’d know more of her songs, but still, she put on a solid performance. Her earpieces were a nice touch, featuring the Scottish flag. Apparently, it’s been 18 years since she last graced the IOW stage, which she declared a “once in a generation” event! We opted to stay a bit further back from the main stage, standing in the sun, until The Corrs came on. They certainly got the crowd moving, and while their set was upbeat, it didn’t quite grab me until their very last piece of Irish music. General consensus over the weekend, however, was that they were brilliant. So, what do I know?

Dinner was calling, so we braved the growing crowd, weaving our way through the packed seating area to The Octopus’s Garden. Paella time! Chicken and chorizo for me, seafood for PY. It was exactly as you’d imagine from a big pan on a festival site.

Finally, Sting took to the stage. We were quite a way back by this point, and my feet were past fighting for a better view. He played a lot of his old hits, which was nice, but it wasn’t exactly a set of ‘party bangers’ to get everyone dancing wildly. So, we made the executive decision to head for the bus. My preferred walking pace was definitely slower than the one we ended up adopting! A quick wait and then the ride back to Ryde. A necessary stop back at Sainsbury’s on Union Street for tomorrow’s lunch supplies.

Now, it’s the best part: back at the flat, sprawled on the sofa with a cup of tea, watching Faithless close out day one of the festival on the telly. Much more comfortable than still being out there.

Let’s see what tomorrow brings!

Can you believe it’s almost time again? Last year’s festival was special. We lucked out with the temperature; all that careful planning for wet weather gear was wasted, thankfully. Am I tempting fate if I look out the window and think this heatwave might hang around for the weekend?

Last year, The Bootleg Beatles set the tone nicely at the start with lots of sing-alongs, and hindsight makes those long walks between stages — and battling the crowd to get out — feel more like an adventure than a chore. Will I say the same on Monday?

Looking back, it was a real lesson in festival strategy. Preserving energy is my takeaway: knowing when to retreat before the very end paid off, ensuring a smoother bus ride back to Ryde. Striking a balance: wanting to be right up close for some acts but accepting that hanging back and relying on the video screens is sometimes a better move, except perhaps when The Pet Shop Boys were on stage.

So here we are, a year on, and my internal buzz is building despite feeling a little unwell. I’m already thinking about the bus tickets and the first coffee runs, hoping we find that sweet spot near the main stage where you can soak it all in and, hopefully, not be too squashed. I suspect there will be another morning hunt for the festival’s best bacon bun.

Fingers crossed, the weather holds out as beautifully as it did last year – all those wet-weather clothes can definitely stay in Ryde again! There’s something exciting about getting back into that festival routine, the journey, the crowd, the long walk to the main stage, and just seeing what surprises the lineup holds this time around. I wonder if I’ll write another festival diary?

Facebook/Meta has always had a high bar for product success: when your potential audience is everybody in the world, products that seem successful to others are tiny to them. They’re not alone in that view; we used to joke that the Microsoft ad technology, shuttered while I worked on it, was a rounding error on a big Excel sheet somewhere, even though, by many standards, it made nice money. Big companies need a specific scale for their products to make working on them worthwhile. And, if the product is something you work on or value as a user, it’s always disappointing when you know it’s becoming obsolete and heading for the big technology graveyard.

And so, here’s a picture of a Meta (née Facebook) Portal, IMO the best thing Facebook produced. It’s a device from which you can make Messenger/WhatsApp video calls. Three sizes were produced: this is the smallest. At the start of the pandemic, I bought the larger one for my parents and this model for my brother and me. In 2020, we sat and ate Christmas dinner with my Mum and Dad using the device, as rules prevented us from partying in person. When you activate it, it makes calling somebody simple: just press their social media avatar. At some point, support was added for Zoom and other video calling services.

I don’t know what they did, but the speaker’s also superb. There’s a portal app for Spotify, and it’s also a Bluetooth speaker. There are still times when one of us inadvertently connects to the Portal speaker instead of the Sonos devices in our living room, and I think the Portal fills the space with sound much better.

It’s also a fantastic digital picture frame. As it’s from Meta, it has access to my Facebook and Instagram photos. A mobile app allowed device-only albums to be created. It offered fine-grained controls for which pictures should be displayed. While my use of Facebook and Instagram might have waned, the photos they hold are still memories, and this device convinced me that a digital photo frame is the best way to surface memories. I hope the product team behind Apple’s - rumoured - home device understands that. The Portal made my photo memories accessible, and lots of friends who visited often commented on the pictures shown.

Now, a device with a microphone and a camera from Facebook, launched in 2018, sometime around the Cambridge Analytica scandal, had its work cut out to convince people it’s not illicitly listening or recording. The pandemic may or may not have given it a chance. I thought it was an excellent device for relatives who found video calling on phones or computers too complex. ‘Just press my face’ was a line I used on more than one occasion.

Sadly, although perhaps not unsurprisingly, its days were numbered. In 2022, The Verge reported that Meta would stop making Portal for consumers, and more recently, it appears to have been phased out altogether.

This morning, I went to my Portal app to add photos from last weekend’s trip to Paris. The app told me it had been discontinued since January. While I love my Portal, it is telling that it’s more than three months since I last used the mobile app to manage the device (although I should say, it’s one of the most stable pieces of technology in my house; I am not sure if I’ve ever seen it crash or need an unexpected reboot).

So, the device’s days are numbered. Many companies would have just shut down the service altogether. Kudos to Meta for not doing that. The support page says,

We’ll continue to provide customer support for Meta Portal owners as usual until February 2032 … You can still use your Meta Portal to call family and friends until late 2031.

While that is disappointing, it does mean I could get ten years of use from it. And that’s more than a lot of technology.

(I’m amused that I managed to snap the picture just as the screen showed an image of another piece of long-gone dead technology: Microsoft’s Zune music player. I never had one, but I once posted a picture to Facebook, which is why it appears on the device).

We have a box upstairs for storing broken electronics, so we can take them to a recycling centre at some point. It doesn’t have much in it at the moment: there’s a security camera that the manufacturers wouldn’t fix after around 15 months of service, and there’s the bedside lamp I broke (that got replaced). When there are a few more things, it will be worth making the arrangements for them to be properly disposed of.

We also have a collection of electronics like these AirPods. They are not broken and are still usable, but they are past their sensible, useful life. These headphones have batteries, and like all batteries, they have a limited lifespan. I’ve seen reports suggesting that these should last two to three years.

I bought these AirPods from the Apple SoHo store on a work trip to New York in February 2018. I was on my way back to my hotel from the office and had, yet again, left a pair of wired headphones somewhere (they eventually resurfaced in my suitcase). I decided to invest in a pair of (what were, at the time) relatively new in-ear devices. I remember some of this because it was snowing in New York, and the streets still had a dusting of snow, and I thought it was exciting to be in the Big Apple in the snow. I guess the SoHo branch was nearest my hotel because I recall checking to see if it would still be open on my walk back. I paid $159 (plus $14.11 in sales tax). It was pretty pricey, really, but I was getting all my travel and meals paid for on the trip, so I imagine I felt I’d put my usual expense money into something. I immediately liked them, especially once I’d got over the feeling they’d fall out of my ears (they rarely did), but I probably didn’t use them very often for the first few years.

By February 2022, they should have been beyond their quoted life. But the left pod was fine: it held a charge for a useful time. The right-hand pod had all but died. I complained to Apple (because I felt they should have degraded on a similar timeframe), who eventually sold me a replacement right pod for some ridiculous sum that, in hindsight, I shouldn’t have paid. I should have gone back to the wired set. But it meant the lifespan was extended for about another year. Then, the left pod refused to hold a charge for a usable period.

To me, a usable time is an hour minimum, but practically, it should be closer to ninety minutes. That’s time in the gym or a commute. And that’s a minimum as the battery fades. I want them to last hours and hours for the majority of their life. They are a pretty useless pair of headphones if they need charging more often than that. I guessed Apple wouldn’t send me another single pod, and, anyway, I felt the money I’d already paid for the replacement wasn’t good value. Instead, I replaced the entire set.

Yet, these sit on my desk all day long. I look at them. Occasionally, if there is excessive noise outside, I will use them on a short work call. But they are otherwise useless. As I write this, I am charging the case, which seems to have been fine since 2018 but is low on charge right now.

These AirPods should be going to an electronics recycling box, but I can’t quite bring myself to part with something that retains some usability. I feel guilty about the waste. But everything has a battery these days, which means many things are disposable. I know the replacement headphones are better (I love the noise-cancelling features when I am commuting), but I can’t help but feel that $173.11 should get me more than a three-year rental period.

This is how clutter arrives in our lives.

Last week, I was going through a box of paperwork and discovered a document from BBC Local Radio Publicity, providing some background to what BBC Local Radio was in January 1985. It’s an interesting take on Auntie’s view of its 31 local stations. I thought it might be worth preserving. Here’s the intro, but the full document can be found here.

Background to BBC Local Radio

The BBC has been committed to Local Radio since 1922 when it discovered what an excellent medium it was to celebrate local activities and bring neighbours in the community even closer together.

Before the war, there were not enough frequencies to go around. Local Radio had to give way to the national networks. But BBC experiments showed that with post-war technology, local radio was viable once more – and the BBC has been pressing for its development ever since.

The first station, BBC Radio Leicester, opened in 1967. Today there are 31 BBC Local Radio stations in England and the Channel Islands. There will be further editorial coverage in areas including Essex (opening in 1986), Suffolk, Warwickshire, Thames Valley, Surrey, Gloucestershire, Hereford and Worcester, Wiltshire, and Dorset.

The strength of BBC Local Radio

BBC Local Radio is in the front line of reporting. It broadcasts its own local stories, examines issues behind the headlines, and supplies news to BBC central newsrooms.

On an average day in January, BBC Local Radio provided 25 news stories for the BBC’s national networks. These were broadcast in 35 news summaries. In addition, 10 interviews were heard on the main news bulletins of Radio 2 and Radio 4.

The importance of BBC Local Radio news-gathering has been re-emphasised during the miners’ strike when BBC Local Radio journalists fed national networks with live reports from the picket lines.

BBC Local Radio was at its best during the recent arctic conditions, said Sir Michael Barton, Controller of Local Radio. “Both television and national radio networks were advising people to tune to their BBC Local Radio stations for the latest news, which was being collated on special Snowline services.”

BBC Radio Kent, for example, broadcast information round-the-clock for several days, while BBC Radio Sussex put out a special plea for four-wheel-drive vehicles to help the WRVS reach the elderly.

BBC Radio Solent extended its broadcasting hours, while BBC Radio Devon extended its boundaries to cover West Dorset, and “split” its medium wave transmitter to give an exclusive information service to North Devon and South Devon people. BBC Radio Cornwall also extended its broadcasting hours and offered an information service.

BBC Radio WM (West Midlands) ‘Helpline Service’ for the elderly was hailed as a “lifesaver” by Birmingham’s Social Services Committee chairman Theresa Stewart: “It would be no exaggeration to say that without Radio WM’s service, some people would have died.”

In the Channel Islands, BBC Radio Guernsey and BBC Radio Jersey kept broadcasting all day as the islands’ only communication service.

Why is BBC Local Radio special?

It is special because it gives listeners what they want – a speech-based information and entertainment service. BBC Local Radio is an integral part of community life – an adviser and job finder, and a lifeline in emergencies.

The document ends with a section about all the BBC “names” that had worked for BBC local radio. It’s a who’s who of its time.

BBC Local Radio – the starmakers

The chances are that when you see the television news, whether BBC or ITV, at least one of the newsreaders will have started their broadcasting career in BBC Local Radio. Many of the sports reporters on Radio 2, and Grandstand presenter Desmond Lynam, began covering the town sports.

Michael Barton said that BBC Local Radio was the vital High Street presence of the BBC around the country. And he added: “It is encouraging to see our staff moving on into other areas of the BBC where their Local Radio experience is proving so valuable to them.”

Michael Buerk and Kate Adie, two of BBC Television’s most travelled reporters, began their BBC careers in Local Radio, as did Jenni Murray, now a presenter on BBC-2’s Newsnight.

Libby Purves — the presenter of Midweek on Radio 4 — cut her radio teeth with BBC Radio Oxford when she was a university student. Her husband Paul Heiney — In at the Deep End and You and Yours — made his radio debut on BBC Radio Humberside.

In addition to Desmond Lynam, who started broadcasting with BBC Radio Brighton (now Sussex), John Motson was a Saturday football reporter with BBC Radio Sheffield, Mike Ingham (BBC Radio Derby), Gary Richardson and Tony Adamson (BBC Radio Oxford), Ian Darke (BBC Radio Leicester), Eddie Hemmings (BBC Radio Merseyside), while their boss, Pat Ewing — Head of Sport and Outside Broadcasts, Radio — began her career at Carlisle, now BBC Radio Cumbria.

Sandra Chalmers, Editor of Woman’s Hour, was manager of BBC Radio Stoke-on-Trent, and radio disc jockeys Janice Long (BBC Radio Merseyside), Bruno Brookes (BBC Radio Stoke-on-Trent), Peter Powell (BBC Radio Birmingham, now Radio WM), and Adrian Juste (BBC Radio Leicester) all started wowing the BBC Local Radio listeners before they earned their place on Radio 1.

Richard Skinner, Radio 1 DJ and a presenter of Whistle Test on BBC Television, was a station assistant at BBC Radio Solent. Nicholas Witchell, co-presenter of The Six O’Clock News on BBC Television, was a news trainee with BBC Radio Merseyside, and Philip Hayton, whose reports are seen from the farthest-flung parts of the world, was a producer with BBC Radio Leeds.

Many of the regional television presenters began their careers with BBC Local Radio stations, as did countless producers, on both radio and television in the BBC and commercial networks.

29 January 1985

The full document can be found here.

We spent 10 hours at the flat before returning to the festival site. Today’s shuttle bus was an old Southern Vectis vehicle (it still featured branded informational posters), but it was – obviously – being used elsewhere in the country at the moment. I remarked that it had come home for a holiday. It had carpet on the upper deck ceiling. We didn’t sit at the front today as it was too warm; I am not sure the furry ceiling helped with the heat. We have been fortunate with the weather this weekend. All those wet-weather clothes remained in Ryde.

Once again, arrival was marked by the purchase of coffee. I craved a bacon bun, which proved – surprisingly – elusive until I found a burger stand near the main stage selling them. It was one of the nicest bacon sandwiches I’ve had. We repeated yesterday’s moves of getting to the Main Stage area early and holding a place towards the front. The backstage crew had been busy overnight installing confetti canons for Green Day and adding a platform that extended the stage area into the crowd. We’d have moved closer to that if my thinking had been more intelligent.

Beverley Knight was first and early, opening with “Greatest Day”. I’ve seen Beverley many times, and she’s an outstanding performer. I was surprised she was first on the list for the day. She started with a reasonable, for lunchtime, crowd around the Main Stage. She’d pulled many more people to the stage by the time she finished her set. Another wonderful performance featuring a great mix of her old and new songs and a cover of Radiohead’s “Just”. As she said, nobody can imagine a soul sister performing that song. It worked. There’s a version on BBC Sounds.

Next up, Kyliefied, a Kylie tribute act, was a lot of fun in the Electro Love tent. PY and I did not join in with the “Locomotion” chain that went around, but we laughed. It was another power walk across the festival site back to see McFly. I think McFly are underrated (I don’t know by whom, but it’s a sense, and I am sticking with it) because their set is such fun with a list of songs that you will know. I was disappointed we were so far back, but there was no way to get closer. I could just about see Tom was wearing a Green Day t-shirt in honour of tonight’s headliners, and Harry’s t-shirt labelled him as the drummer.

Zara Larsson was next. There was a noticeable switchover in the age of the crowd at the front. I only recognised “Symphony.” Her show was slick, but I wonder if it would have been better in a stadium rather than a field. The youngsters loved it, so what do I know?

We took some time out for food. This afternoon was chorizo-flavoured Mac’n’Cheese. Again, we sat on the grass near the Big Top and enjoyed the sunshine. We headed back to the Main Stage for “Simple Minds”. As far as PY was concerned, these were today’s headliners. I can’t explain why I was never a fan, so I only recognised the biggest hits, probably “Don’t You (Forget About Me)” and “Alive and Kicking” — it was another example of a video show that occasionally seemed to forget that we wanted to see the performers. The fans thought it superb.

Afterwards, we wandered to the Cirque de la Quirk stage. There was a bar opposite. For the first time across the weekend, I tried the fruit cider that PY had been drinking, and I wished I’d had it more often. Stone Cold Hustle, a large-ish (7 or 8-piece) funk band, was grooving providing the perfect laid-back soundtrack as evening approached.

After almost three days on my feet, walking was starting to get painful. We found some benches made of pallets and managed to sit for half an hour. We don’t bring foldable chairs because we want to avoid being stuck with them, mainly because I like being as close to the stages as possible, and chairs are banned in key areas. But I was very grateful to be able to sit down. 

Sunday’s headliners, who closed the show, were Green Day, another band I am not familiar with. However, when many people I know found out they were the main act of the day, they said without hesitation we should stay. And we did for most of the show. 

It was brilliant. From the inflatable aeroplane dropping merch onto the crowd to those confetti canons, we saw earlier via bringing a fan, Mollie, from the audience to perform on stage with them, it was great. Somewhere around “Wake Me Up When September Ends,” we decided to do another beat-the-crowd shuffle to the bus, hoping to catch a rerun of the set on Sky Arts. We missed the rerun (but caught the bus). Apparently, it’s on later in the week. Dinner was from the kebab shop on Union Street.

from my Blipfoto diary

We were back at Seaclose Park at noon. Despite my already tired feet, I was glad of the night in a real bed and ready for, more or less, twelve hours of standing. The first call of the day was at a coffee wagon to get a drink and the fortification of a pastry. Then, walk towards the main stage. As the crowds were still not out and, I suspect, many of the on-site campers were recovering, we took the opportunity to explore some areas of the site that had gone unvisited yesterday.

The Platform One Stage, which a music college runs, showcases student talent. According to the schedule, we watched Stereo Screams, but there seem to be more people in the band (based on their Instagram) than we saw. Whoever they were, they were good.

We walked the long snake-fenced-off queue line for a beer and fruit cider. Nobody else was buying, and the staff watched, amused, as we walked up and down the lines. It’s hard not to feel stupid doing that, but I wouldn’t vault any fences to save a few seconds. We carried our drinks to the Main Stage area, where we could secure a space near the front and watch Apollo Junction. It’s another new band to me and another fantastic way to start the day. Over several years, they had progressed from one of the small stages to opening the big one. Added to my playlist.

Yesterday, I mentioned the challenges of shifting between the Main Stage and other areas. Today, there were several acts in a row that we wanted to see on the biggest stage, so we settled in for about four and a half hours, standing three or four rows from the barrier.

Natalie Imbruglia was first up. Of course, everybody wanted to sing along to Torn, which came towards the end of the set, but there were plenty of other solid songs. It was a great set that pulled people towards the stage.

The act PY wanted to see most today was Jake Shears, who was up just before 3pm. Arriving on stage wearing a glittering red and silver tracksuit, he opened with “Too Much Music”. Pretty much straight afterwards, the tracksuit was removed to reveal a glittering silver-and-red vest-shorts combo. While most of the acts on the main stage stuck to the accepted dress code of ‘something black’, Jake Shears was the opposite.

Apollo Junction’s Jamie Williamson got down from the stage to sing to the front row, and Jake Shears repeated the move during “Do The Television”. This is great for those of us up close but not so wonderful for those further back with a view of the stage who lose sight of the artists. I am not complaining. Jake’s set was another fantastic one. I hope he’s back in a future year with a longer show as his solo collection of hits is growing, and he still needs to fit in the crowd-pleasing Scissor Sisters tunes.

Half an hour later, possibly the 90s pop highlight took to the stage. Unlike everybody else we’ve seen so far at the festival, S Club did not pretend to be singing to a live band. There were no instruments on stage, and it was a pop-perfect 45 minutes: opening, of course, with “S Club Party” and closing with the crowd’s favourite, “Reach”. If the Isle of Wight festival has a reputation for being a rock fest, then perhaps S Club will convince people that there’s something for everyone.

After reaching for the stars, we decided it was time to eat. We found a pizza and sat on the grass near the Big Top, watching several people wearing Pet Shop Boys-inspired red-and-white pointy hats. The crowd had fewer ‘costumes’ than I remember from last year.

While we were sitting on the grass, the Big Top crowd was growing larger and larger to the sound of Irish music. Intrigued, we wandered in and caught the last, thoroughly enjoyable half-hour of The Mary Wallopers before making our way to The River Stage.

I am trying to remember who had just finished on The River Stage when we arrived, but most people who’d seen the previous act were hanging about. I nipped to the bar tent, and when I turned around again to return to PY with a couple of drinks, I needed to push through quite a mass of people. In another 80s flashback, Johnny Hates Jazz took to the stage with a collection of hits. I am not sure some of the crowd knew what was coming, as, after the first couple of songs, there was a changeover with a bit of an exodus making way for more people who’d been trying to get into the area.

By the time we’d heard “Turn Back The Clock”, “I Don’t Want To Be A Hero”, and “Shattered Dreams” from the River Stage, the mass audiences had arrived in front of the Main Stage for not-quite-headliners, Keane. I am not familiar with Keane, so I was content to stand back and see most of the set on the video screen. I was surprised I knew as many of their songs as I did.

Generally, I am not a fan of going to concerts where you can’t see the act on the stage and watch the show on a video screen. However, at a festival like this, you must accept that it’s the only way to see some acts without camping out in front of a single stage all day.

After Keane, as it got darker, the air got colder. We both added layers, and I decided that something warm would help. It’s incredible how a portion of super-unhealthy but equally delicious loaded fries could revive us both. On a side note, the site’s food selection was pretty impressive. PY went to look for a stall still selling coffee. That’s how rock-n-roll our evening was.

One of the peculiarities of festivals is that there are often no intros to the bands. After many people move equipment, and somebody inevitably hits the drum for a soundcheck, the band starts. And so it was with the Pet Shop Boys. PY returned, coffee-less, once he realised the Pet Shop Boys had started (the coffee queue was moving slowly due to high demand for the waffles also available).

By this time, we were standing even further back than we’d been for Keane, and this is the point in my notes where I should inject something about the people who manage the stage-side video screens.

It’s ubiquitous for bands to have impressive video projection shows at the back of the stage. You can tell how much money artists are being paid by what they do with those screens. Earlier in the day, it’s usually just the band’s name or logo. As the day progresses, video is increasingly used. It looks nice when you can see the band on stage.

However, when you have 50,000 people back in a field with a partial obstruction of the mid-field sound/video/lighting gear, you only get part of the experience and rely on the side-stage video screen to see what’s happening. Several bands, including PSB, often showed the video effects on these screens instead of the live view, and there was no sight of the band on stage. IMHO, I am there to see a band. Generally, I want to be able to see the performers on stage (even microscopic versions of them), but, as with PSB, when that’s impossible, I implore the art directors of these things to keep the band on screen. If I want video effects, I’ll watch Vevo.

OK, back to the show (well, almost). The Isle of Wight is very family-friendly as a festival. There are lots of kids of all ages. I imagine many little kids are exhausted by 10:20pm (the headline start time). A mass of people stay to see the first couple of songs by the final act, then start heading homeward (or at least campsite-wards). As a pleasing result, within the first twenty minutes, we’d moved from being a long way back, with the screen as the primary view, to a view of the stage where I could see Neil & Chris (and appreciate the aforementioned video effects).

It’s a stunning show. And every song is known. It’s amazing how extensive and familiar PSB’s back catalogue is. When a band can put songs as big as “Opportunities (Let’s Make Lots of Money)” and “Rent” in the early part of the set and still have hits left for later, you’re reminded of how prolific the band has been since their mid-80s arrival on planet pop*.

We took a gamble that “It’s A Sin” was the closing song of the main set and made our way backwards as it was playing. And we were right. Thus, we started the power walk back to the bus stop to beat the crowds for the shuttle to Ryde. “West End Girls” (an encore song) played in our ears.

The bus was significantly busier than yesterday, and my legs were much creakier than last night. But it’s nice to get to the flat for tea and more Sky Arts festival catch-up.

*I put that phrase in as it sounded like a homage to Smash Hits magazine.

From my Blipfoto diary

We did a bit of shopping this morning and managed to get lunch before heading out. We got some keys cut. It turns out one of them doesn’t work, and we headed back to get it redone, but the shop was closed. We walked down the hill towards the bus station. There was a festival bus on the stand as we approached the stop. Should we run or not? We didn’t, but we also made the bus and bagged a top deck, front row window seat to observe the approach to Seaclose Park from above.

The festival did get going last night, but we opted to sit in the sun in Ryde. PY’s been planning the schedule for much of the last week, and we decided the first act we wanted to see today was The Bootleg Beatles, who were not on stage until 4pm. It’s nice to have a shorter day to work my way up to the hours of standing that will be required tomorrow.

It was a beautiful sunny afternoon. All the planning for wet weather was not required for today and, according to the forecast, probably not for the rest of the weekend. We took the (very) long walk from the entrance to the main stage – posing for a picture by the IOW Festival sign –  to the bar, where the credit card discount was not available as Barclaycard had pulled out of sponsoring. Nonetheless, we took a place with a view of the stage just before 3pm and basked in the sun and drank a lager (me) and a fruit cider (PY). His was the better choice by far.

The Bootleg Beatles were a fantastic way to kick off our weekend. Everybody knew all the words to all the songs, and the costume changes between the Beatles’ eras were great. “Here Comes the Sun” was a very fitting song for the afternoon. 

After watching a tribute to a legendary band on the Main Stage, it seemed fitting to go and see another legend in the Electro Love tent. We were not the only people with the same idea; there was quite a crowd.  

Fighting your way away from the Main Stage is one of the festival site’s downsides: crossing with the people who want a good position for the next act means you are pushed to pinch-points because you must exit via the ‘chairs permitted’ section. Nonetheless, we did get in the Electro Love tent and watched an excellent Young Elton (albeit from quite far back).

We stayed for Dolly & The Gambler, a fabulous Scottish duo performing many 80s hits but, sadly, no Dolly Parton.  

The walk back towards the main stage is more straightforward, but we decided to skip The Darkness and watch up-and-comers Junodream for our next act. At some point, I wrote down “Dream-rock music about alienation in the 21st century”, which I think I took from their website. I don’t know what it means either. A lot of our festival experience is retro, but this was all new. And this old fella is probably not their target market, but I loved the whole set.

Then, it was only a quick step back to the Main Stage for Crowded House. I have a very limited knowledge of their back catalogue, “Four Seasons in One Day” and “Weather with You” from the early 1990s being the era I recall. Neil Finn and, amongst others, his sons, Liam and Elroy, performed much more variety than I expected. It was thoroughly lovely and more to singalong to than I imagined.

One of the things we’ve learnt about festivals is that energy is everything. The Prodigy were the big closing act, but we opted to leave before they got going to conserve some energy for tomorrow. As it was after 8pm, we decided we’d be better off eating on-site before the bus to Ryde. The Greek pittas we got were delicious. As a result of leaving early the bus wasn’t busy and we’d time our arrival at the stop perfectly. As soon as we were home Sky Arts went on to catch-up with what we hadn’t seen.

from my Blipfoto diary