In a recent study carried out by Sussex FA and UEFA it was revealed that businesses which sponsor their local grassroots women’s football team could increase their life expectancy by up to 15 years. The study also found that those businesses tended to increase their profits by at least 150% and that business owners often had their life goals realised within six minutes of investing in women’s football. (Ed: Right now, Skip, I’m believing every word you’re telling me) 

 This is, of course, very exciting news for Montpelier Villa WFC who are your local women’s side and take their name from the local streets. The team has until now always relied on players’ fees to pay for the expenses incurred throughout the season including pitch hire, referees, kits and competition entries and insurance, but this naturally creates a barrier for some who can’t afford it, especially in the current climate. 

 However, this recent study is fantastic as previously we had relied on businesses who were socially conscious and wanted to give back to their community and who shared our values of being inclusive, independent and ambitious. Three adjectives that we feel encapsulates the best of Brighton and Hove. Thankfully we no longer have to worry about that nonsense and can focus on selling our product to the highest bidder. 

 “Our next item for sale in the great football auction is MVWFC, a football club that has a track record of fighting sexism, homophobia and transphobia over the past seven years in Brighton. Sussex League Cup champions and recently promoted to step six of the women’s football pyramid and will be competing in the Womens FA Cup once more this season having narrowly missed out on the most illustrious prize in womens football by a meagre 10 wins last season.”

Unfortunately Sussex FA and UEFA have carried out no such study yet, but we’re still in a position to sell ourselves to the highest bidder. With promotion comes increasing costs and considerations such as…”How much can we ask of our players financially?” And “If our players aren’t willing or able to do it then how do we make up that shortfall?” Do we market our players and their experiences on social media knowing full well many of them play football for that reason and that reason alone – to play football. 

 This is clearly a problem that doesn’t just affect the grassroots game. Recently in an attempt to model how our defenders should play I searched for videos of Millie Bright defending. I found out that she was afraid of spiders, her favourite movie is Step-Brothers and that the celebrity she would invite to dinner is Tom Hardy. There was only one video that focused on Millie Bright’s football. The problem faced by Bright and the Lionesses is that big brands are willing to pay for these insights however we have yet to have the same brands knocking on our door but still want to tell our players stories in an attempt to attract local businesses which is far more beneficial to everyone.

It’s been an amazing time to live in Brighton and Hove for those of us involved in women’s football. We had the Euro 2022 roadshow on Hove lawns where you could get up close and personal with the trophy and the inspiring Goal Power exhibition at Brighton museum, which highlighted the attitudes and obstacles that have been overcome by footballers across the globe. Finally, we’ve had the football with England putting on an incredible show by beating Norway 8-0 at the Amex yet it’s hard to ignore the feeling that this papers over the cracks that currently exist in women’s football especially in this city.

The hope is that once the Euros circus packs up its tent and leaves our city that it somehow manages to leave a tangible impact and ultimately, for us, that comes down to what it always does: cold, hard cash, ideally from businesses who are socially conscious that want to give back to their community and share our values of being inclusive, independent and ambitious. 

If this is you then please get in touch with us mvwfc@outlook.com or message/phone 07464768514 

 Your support would be appreciated, if you are a local business that wants to be associated with a progressive and ambitious women’s football team that also wants to reduce their tax bill then please contact us below.

Project managing a huge outdoor art commission, the key is to begin with your headache list. My headache list reads as follows: 

– Erecting a huge Artist Dotty robot without public distractions.

– Temporary road closure preventing traffic incidents. 

– Positioning of the robot secured on a stone plinth. 

– Convincing the West Hill and Seven Dials Residents committee that they need a robot at Seven Dials. 

A survey undertaken in West Hill, showed over 10,000 residents voted for a huge robot with beacon lights for overhead air traffic and oncoming vehicles. The issues were eliminated after receiving project investment from local film production company, ‘Mad Cap Productions,’ and a professional project leader was enlisted.

The Seven Dials roundabout was derived from a seven-way junction in London featuring a monument that had six sundials (not sure what happened to the seventh). With a ten strong team, one low loader truck and a stationed crane, ADSD1 took seven hours to safely erect. After a huge applause from onlookers, the public reaction has been overwhelmingly positive. The robot is made from reclaimed steel and, in time, will have dotty, street style paint (as performance art on a trampoline) to add a finishing touch. 

It’s one millimetre wider than the Angle of The North, and ADSD 1 has already been coined as, ‘The Robot of The South.’

Why a robot ?

Well, during his art journey, Artist Dotty noticed over the years that friends have become brainwashed by technology descriptions. For example, Dotty might create an all-consuming, heavily meditated piece of digital artwork, and a friend’s response could simply be: ‘nice pic.’ 

There are other observations, for example when signing up to any social media platforms that require you to fill out your profession. After 20 years of phone navigation, Artist Dotty has  noticed that there hasn’t been the option to say that you are an artist or comedian (comedy being the last bastion of free speech). 

Artist Dotty is convinced that, on the one hand whilst creative options are available, we are being moulded into a new way of perceiving art and creativity through diluted internet language. And what better way to get people thinking about this than by plonking a huge 1950s robot on a plinth on a roundabout. Get down there! ADSD1 really glimmers in the sunlight.  

Et maintenant, le journalist qui s’appelle Gilly Smith parlez avec Fabrice Camus qui runs “Le Club Pour Le Parlez de French”. Bon.

I’ve wanted to speak French since I was a 17 -year-old au pair in Paris, happy to chat with the kids, but freezing with anyone over the age of 10. I want the easy, shoulder shrugging kind of French off pat, not the ‘il fait beau aujourd’hui’ kind of French that’s never going anywhere. I want the effortless chatter over a glass or three that would transform our adventures en France, the friend-making, options-opening kind of French that’s almost impossible to learn in the country itself.  While everyone in France either sneers at your pathetic grasp of language (Paris) or wants to practice their English themselves, it’s just not going to happen on holiday. 

So I put a shout out on Facebook. ‘I think there’s a guy called Fabrice who does conversation classes’, said West Hill Hall Lou who knows the answer to everything. And she’s right. ‘Yup, Fabrice is your man’ says someone else. ‘He teaches my daughter GCSE’,  someone else pops up. ‘I do his Book Club’ says another.  It seems that the whole of Brighton is speaking French with Fabrice. 

I looked him up. Fabrice Camus, freelance French teacher, clearly an orchestra leader for a choir of English voices wanting to learn, advance or polish up their Francais! Camus? Wait. Surely he’s related by Albert, existentialist, poet, philosopher, footballer and my teen hero when I was a French A’ level student. ‘No relation, malheureusement’, messaged Fabrice. ‘Il ya beaucoup de personnes qui portent le nom de famille ‘Camus’ en France!’ 

£50, he told me, would include a weekly class at my local pub, The Eddy as well as French Book Club on Friday mornings and French Cinema on Saturdays or Sundays, both monthly. It turns out that there’s a Saturday morning breakfast too every week at  Cup of Joe in Kemptown. I was in.

Four months later, I’m chatting if not fluent French, fluently to an ever-changing cast of French Clubbers, also chatting happily, whatever their level, at Cup of Joe. Ceri is an TV animation producer who lives in Brighton and works in Paris one week a month. Hyanna is a young doctor who arrived in Brighton from Brazil and seems to like a challenge. Tony is a retired French teacher at Brighton College, Sian, a historian, Shirley an opera singer agent… The conversation is flowing.

I ask Fabrice how he thinks the magic happens. 

‘Number one is confidence’ he tells me. ‘If people have got the confidence, they can do it.’   And they can. Margaret and Richard moved to Brighton last year and have used the opportunity to polish up their French, aand to meet new friends. ‘I lived in France for 15 years,’ Margaret tells me. ‘My spoken French was good, and reading French is good. My written French is still terrible!  It was very difficult to speak French when I lived there; when you’re shopping it’s ok, and some people are always patient. In Paris not so much. But here, I can relax and practice it easily. It’s very informal.’

Husband, Richard works in Lyon but spent Lockdown in the UK and quickly found that the quality of his French was deteriorating. He went back to basics with Fabrice, concentrating on grammar through exercises in class and through homework. ‘The sessions with Fabrice are very efficient,’ he tells me as he tucks into his croissant.

Lesley is retired and moved to Brighton last year. ‘I’ve met so many people with common interests.  I love the breakfast most, but also we have the weekly class over a cup of coffee. We do have conversations but we also we go through the homework we’ve had during the week so that’s very useful.’   It’s more than 50 years since Jill was a student in France and is quietly loving the hubbub of spoken French. ‘I lived in Paris when I was young,’ she tells me, dreamily.

I notice the almost fluent French booming from the end of the table, albeit in a rather cute New Zealand accent. ‘When I came overseas,’ James tells me, ‘I realised that a lot of Europeans spoke their own language as well as English pretty well. So, I tried to use some of my high school French, and I struggled even to order a coffee in a cafe. And that really annoyed me. I got frustrated with the fact that I could only really speak one language. I had expected everyone to speak my language, to accommodate me in their country!’ He moved to Brighton, spotted a poster in a pub window for Fabrice’s informal French classes, and decided to give it a go. ‘I kind of just fell in love with it. It’s just a nice challenge. I enjoy learning another language and discovering a whole new world through the language and the culture.’  

l To join Fabrice’s Rendezvous French Club at a variety of pubs and cafes around Brighton, call 07704 188055.

As I write, it is a gloriously sunny afternoon, but for some reason, the first day’s play at Hove County Cricket Ground of a three-day match against the touring New Zealanders has been scheduled. This is a bit irritating for everyone who had been planning to go, whether as a player, an employee of the ground, or a spectator. I fall into the last group.

I have been living in Brighton for four years now (with a year off in Scotland) and until the beginning of May this year, I had not been to the ground (named now after an insurance company, but that need not concern us) at all. The reasons were laziness – living at the highest point of Dyke Road meant that coming back home involved a supreme effort, and the gound was about half an hour’s walk away; and later, the pandemic, when no one was allowed to go to a match, assuming the match was even being played in the first place. Also, I am a bit leery of Hove, which is, as everyone knows, a terrifying military dictatorship compared to the fun- and peace-loving Green/Socialist paradise of Brighton.

But the other week, now that I live about 10 minutes’ walk away, and on more or less the same elevation as the ground, I had no excuse, and it was also a lovely, sunny day, so off I went to see the final afternoon’s play of a four-day match between Sussex and Middlesex. I checked on the score before going, and without going into any detail, it looked as though the match was settling down to be a nice, peaceful draw. This was just as well: the crushed and downtrodden people of Hove can turn violent at the slightest provocation.

Oh, it was lovely. There were about 500 people at the ground, I’d say, so at least 90% of the seats were unoccupied; they let me in for a tenner because there wasn’t much play left and the match was getting soporific; and even though the Sussex Cricketers, the pub at the Sea End, which I’d never been to, was demolished last year, I could still get a bottle of Harvey’s from the otherwise uninspiring cafe that we have to make do with.

As it turned out, the match did get interesting: Middlesex, helped by a sporting declaration from the hosts, found themselves getting the runs with time to spare (even if they’d been held down a bit at one end whenever Ollie Robinson, the England quickie, came on to bowl). 

As I said, it was lovely, and one of the nicest things about it was the way the Sussex fans, including me, applauded every good shot made by Middlesex, even if it meant that defeat was creeping ever nearer. In which other sport in the world do you get a reaction like that? None, I’d think. 

So I say: get yourself down the Hove ground for a county match and prepare yourself for a nice quiet slice of Heaven. Weather permitting.

Let’s take the summer off. Not do anything, have a bit of time for ourselves”. 

“Yes, let’s go away for a month or so, just drive round France, stopping here and there. We won’t have to worry about getting back or who’s going to look after…” 

It was, in truth, a bit of a half-hearted conversation. Not that there’s anything wrong with driving round France for a month or so – I’m sure it’d be very nice – but it wasn’t going to happen. That coming weekend, we both knew, we’d be back at Shoreham Dog Rescue. 

It’s been a bit of an emotional time, here at Whistler Towers. I’m looking around and where there should be someone, there’s no one. I’m listening out, and where there should be noise, there’s no noise. For the first time in our famly life, we’re dog-less. And it’s just not right.

Our family has always had dogs. When the kids were little we had Maxwell and Lexa. When the kids were older we had Poppy and Molly and Moby. For a while we had Lily who actually lived next door, but preferred it at ours. And for a different while we had Pluto, who we brought back from Greece. Mostly we also had Rosie The Pussycat, and Princey, who was her baby. We haven’t even mentioned Tracy the Hamster (after Tracy Beaker, obvs), Fluffy the lop-eared lionhead bunny rabbit, Luna, Fluffy’s girlfriend and, as night follows day, their kids. There was a tank of goldfish all, for reasons lost in time, called Peter. 

There’s always been noise and paws. And now there’s not. It’s life’s deal, I know. You can have the love but you also have the grief. It’s not a new story, but it doesn’t get easier.

Nothing and no one could replace Maxwell. He was the Godfather – the Dogfather – the one who made it all happen. I took Maxwell to puppy training classees, but Maxwell trained me first. All single men should get a dog. Single men are, you know, single. A dog will train a single man to be a useful member of society. You have to be home for the dog. To feed the dog, to walk him, to let him out. But if something should stop you getting home when you said you’d be home – and this happens to all single men – the dog will still love you. When Maxwell went for his final walk… No, can’t talk about that. 

Poppy was a sweet. The rescue centre said she’d probably been stolen, taken to a puppy farm and put to work making babies. Then she was hurled out, found on a roadside, broken, still lactating. She needed some puppies, so we went back to the RSPCA and found the pups. Both of them fitted inside my hat. That was 14 years ago, nearly 15 now. 

Molly was the last. She stayed two weeks after Moby woofed his last woof and, as is so often the way with married couples and partners, she knew one without the other wasn’t right. 

The next day was the first day ever we woke up and didn’t go for a walk. That’s just not right, is it? A life without paws is… it’s a bit half-hearted, and leaves you empty hearted.

France is lovely. Driving around in the sunshine, stopping off pour un croissant et un cafe.. It would be lovely. But we both know that by the time you read this, there’ll be paws. And don’t even ask who’s on the cover of the next Whistler. 

Tom Waits at The Catalyst Club. It was always going to happen. Word has it that Tom was on his way and then… Covid. You know the rest.

Anyway. Alex Harvey – no, not that one – has written a book called “Song Noir” that explores the formative first decade of Tom Waits’ career, when he lived, wrote and recorded nine albums in Los Angeles; from the extraordinary debut, Closing Time where he introduced his storytelling barfly persona to the even more extraordinary surreal Swordfishtrombones.

Waits mined a rich seam of the city’s low-life locations and characters, letting the place feed his dark imagination. Mixing the domestic with the mythic, he turned quotidian, autobiographical details into something more disturbing and emblematic; a vision of la as the warped, narcotic heart of his nocturnal explorations.

Using music, images and stories, Harvey will show how Waits absorbed LA’s wealth of cultural influences to combine the spoken idioms of writers like Kerouac and Bukowski with jazz-blues rhythms, and explored the city’s literary and film noir traditions to create hallucinatory dreamscapes.

Alex Harvey is a producer and director of programmes including Panorama and The Late Show for the BBC. His later films include The Lives of Animals (2002) and Enter the Jungle (2014). Based in Los Angeles, he regularly writes on literature, film and music for London Review of Books and LA Review of Books.

The Latest Bar, Manchester Street

Wednesday August 3, 8pm

Tickets £8/5
https://www.ticketsource.co.uk/dr-bramwell/t-qjvdoyv

Pep Guardiola became friends with chess grandmaster Garry Kasparov while taking a sabbatical from football in New York. It may seem an unlikely friendship until you realise both are masters in a field where you need to anticipate an opponent’s moves and counter them accordingly. Both are masters of assessing their own weakness and dealing with them before their opponents are aware of them. 

 Hubris is not a crime, but in making any link between myself and Guardiola or Kasparov, I am certainly guilty of it however every time Montpelier Villa Women score, concede or just play and even when they don’t play, I can’t help but think of Kasparov, Guardiola and ultimately what does the opposition know about us that we don’t already know about ourselves. 

I’m Skip Kelly and I coach Montpelier Villa Women. Because of this I live in a constant state of paranoia. Melodrama isn’t a crime either. This season has been defined by our games against Pagham. We beat them 5-3 in the second game of the season, this was to be their only loss in the league as they went on an incredible winning streak including a heart-breaking 92nd minute winner in the return fixture. Results elsewhere meant Pagham finished the season as league champions however the cup semi-final presented us with the opportunity for revenge. 

Despite the distance between the teams, there is a lot of mutual respect and admiration between the teams. Pagham began their women’s team the same year as us and have navigated the murky depths of sexism and discrimination that is grassroots womens football since. As more and more established mens sides begin to address decades of inequality by investing in the women’s game, many of our rivals are in a position to offer incentives to play. Neither Pagham or Montpelier Villa are in a position to do this. Both teams don’t just play for the love of the game, they pay for the privilege. All the more reason to win. 

The Eurovision Song Contest and the Mens FA Cup Final were the scheduled curtain-raisers with the former being more fitting for the explosive chess match that awaited. Our plan was to use our strength on the flanks to overpower them, forcing their resources out wide leaving their king and queen exposed. Their plan was to score two goals in the opening 25 minutes. Unfortunately their plan was simple, effective and ultimately did not attempt to mix sporting metaphors and as a result after 25 minutes, we were two goals down. 

Half-time provided a welcome opportunity to assess our own weaknesses and attempt to address those weaknesses before the opposition found out about them. 

However we were in the unfortunate position that the opponent was not only aware of our biggest weakness but had inflicted it, leaving one of their knights staring at our king in the form of a two-goal deficit. The twenty minutes that had passed since their second goal had enabled us to implement our plan which gave the players a tremendous boost. I then loudly declared that we still have all our pieces to many bemused faces which was when I realised this was the first time I had externalized the chess metaphor. 

When Kasparov defeated a team made up of all willing participants in the world in 1999, he declared, “it was the greatest game in the history of chess.” Kasparov can have his opinions about chess but if he was in Pagham when we scored two goals in two minutes to equalise then he would have thought this game might just rival chess. If he was in Pagham when we scored an 87th minute winner to secure our place in a cup-final against our main rivals, he would have said this is the greatest game in history.  Hyperbole isn’t a crime either. 

 Your support would be appreciated, if you are a local business that wants to be associated with a progressive and ambitious womens football team that also wants to reduce their tax bill then please contact us below.

mvwfc@outlook.com

07464768514

I wanted Madonna to smash ageism like she’s smashed everything else…

It gives me no pleasure to write this, but I think things are over between me and M. I’ve been in love with her since I was 16, but as the kids say, I just can’t with her any more.

Why? Is it the weird bum? The filters? The fact that she looks like every other influencer on Instagram? Well, sort of. But it’s more fundamental than that.

Madonna was the ultimate rule-breaker. The girl you knew would get you into trouble, who’d be the first one to challenge something. She seemed indestructible, and I loved her for her devil-may-care attitude. She trampled across the world, smashing taboos and upsetting everyone from the Catholic Church to the men who wanted to tame her. She famously said she wanted to ‘rule the world’. She kinda came close.

I loved watching her change, and grow, and metamorphosize. I particularly loved watching her make a comeback in the nineties, and kick up dust and disco in her 40s and 50s. And yeah, I know she’d had work done by then, but she still looked, you know, like Madonna. I thought she was ageing well. Go girl. Show us how it’s done.

But no…

So, I realise that this is about me and my expectations, which isn’t fair. But I wanted Madonna to break the ultimate taboo and blaze a trail for the future. I wanted her to age defiantly, and stick two fingers up by being different, and not fall into the trap of desperately trying to stay young. I envisaged her ageing like a Bette Davis or Katharine Hepburn type, all pithy and without any fucks given. And instead, what do we have?

Reader, you know what we have. I’m not going to slate her; it’s ageist in itself to rip her to shreds for her choices, and she’s getting enough of that shit already. We all know what the deal is. I watched a live performance she gave with Maluma recently and found myself looking through my fingers like it was a horror film. It was a car crash in slow motion. Suffice to say that the Madonna we see on Instagram is completely different to the one we see live on stage, or in pap photos without filters. 

Her live appearance is SO different, in fact, that I’m surprised she still does it. I could imagine her going on from here, disappearing into a digital-only world, going full Norma Desmond, luring younger and younger men to her lair.

It’s a shame, because she had the power and the reach to really make a massive difference. To bust a cap in the naturally saggy ass of ageism. And I’m gutted, although it’s obviously her choice to take the road more travelled. I feel sorry for her really. In 2016 – literally a few years and a thousand procedures ago – she said in her acceptance speech for Billboard’s Woman of the Year award: “The most controversial thing I’ve done is stick around.” I think if she’d wanted to be REALLY controversial, she could have ‘got older’. But in showbiz that’s a lot to ask.

One of the best things about Madonna was her face – it wasn’t traditionally beautiful, but it was a face with impact and character. Now, not so much. I don’t honestly know if I’d be able to pick her out of a line-up of influencers, with the plumped lips, the filters, the alien face shape. I mean, you do you, girl. But what happened to swimming against the tide?

At a time when it was controversial, she stood up as an activist, voice, and massive fundraiser for the gay community, ripped apart by HIV and AIDS. There’s been Raising Malawi, and the Ray of Light Foundation, as well as over thirty other causes she supports. In an interview with People Magazine, she famously said, “Helping people is like tattoos. Once you get a tattoo, you keep getting them. It’s addicting. You see the difference you’re making in one person’s life, so what’s the big deal if I help one more person, and one more person?”

So how about making some inroads into smashing through the ageism wall kiddo? Let’s really break some rules. Perhaps the most taboo of them all.

Sam is founder and Editor-in-Chief of Silver Magazine – for the mature maverick

www.silvermagazine.co.uk

Pic: Ronald S Woan

In the first of our chats with the ace faces of our city, we meet Leo, front of house at The Flint House. Gilly Smith asked him how it felt after coming fourth in Brighton’s Best Restaurants Awards 

Gilly: Flint House has done so well. When the sun shines and the outside area is bathed in sunshine and you’ve got a cocktail in your hand, there’s no finer place to be – and now you came fourth in the Awards. It must be fantastic to be recognised like this.

Leo: It was so exciting. I was kinda hoping for top 10 and then it was down to the top 5, and I thought “Right! We make it into the top 5 or we don’t make it at all!” But yeah, it felt amazing. It was very overwhelming for us. Very emotional.

Gilly: What do you think that they’re looking for in a Brighton Best Restaurant?

Leo: ‘Character’ I suppose is a nice word to use there; on the food, on the service, on how we display the food, the plating. I think a bit of character helps on everything, doesn’t it?

Gilly: Well, it is part of the Gingerman Group, and The Gingerman was one of the very first top restaurants in Brighton. When I came here 24 years ago, the Gingerman was just opening around that time. And it was fantastic because you knew that you would be able to get consistently great food. And that’s what you want from a top notch restaurant. The Flint House has a little bit more character about it, doesn’t it?

Leo: We call it the Gingerman’s wicked little sister.

Gilly: Absolutely. Is that what (chef-owners) Ben and Pamella McKellar wanted to do with it?

Leo: Yes, that was the whole plan. We are casual fine dining. The Gingerman standards are there, and maybe it’s a bit hidden sometimes, but it’s the way we do the service. We need to have a personality because it’s part of the whole experience.

Gilly:  And as we’re talking about personality, tell us a little bit about you.  You’re Brazilian. How long have you been here and why did you come to Brighton?

Leo:  I left Brazil 11 years ago. I was in Ireland a little bit, and then I came to Brighton as a tourist in about 2013. I didn’t know much about it but I of course loved it! And then I was living with my husband in the Gatwick area, and as life goes, we separated in 2015 and I thought, ‘right I know where I’m heading to.’ I wanted a bit more fun. So, I came to Brighton and realised what an amazing culture of restaurants and people and everything else there was here.  

Gilly: Were you in restaurants before? 

Leo: I started at The Hilton at Gatwick and learnt from the madness there of suddenly having to feed two hungry people because their flight was cancelled, and you have to reset everything. Then I came down to Brighton and worked at Wagamama, and then helped to open Gails Bakery next door. And then from there to Flint House and I’ve been there since October 2019.

Gilly: You’re front of house front of house there and that’s a really important job. It’s like a theatre, isn’t it? 

Leo: it is! It’s like a huge theatre. I do say that to the guys: ‘Right guys, let’s get the show on!’  That’s what we’re here to do. It is a theatre but people are literally right in front of you. There is no separation there, so things can get quite personal. But it is a performance pretty much every day.

Gilly: And of course Flint House is in The Lanes. It’s not tucked away in the North Laine, in Localville. This is Tourist Central. So you’re going to get a lot of people coming down who might not be so ‘Brighton’ as the rest of us, perhaps. Give us your top tips for dealing with sulky Trip Advisor types.

Leo: I’m gonna try not to be too sassy here, because I ‘m well-known as being the sassy one at The Flint House! We kind of need to know how to read the room because we need the customers in front of us. Adapting to the customer is very important, but I think at Flint House we have a bit of character for sure on the service. And it’s very rare that you’re gonna get the TripAdvisor people.

Gilly: I was sitting next to some last time I was there and they were pretty sullen. Who’s that lovely girl who served us with the pink hair? 

Leo: That’s Hannah.

Gilly: Yeah, Hannah was absolutely fantastic. I’m not sure that they appreciated her humour or her sassiness though. And I just thought, ‘Oh my God, she’s brilliant.’ She didn’t apologise for herself in any way. They just didn’t get her. 

Leo: As long as we are not rude to the customer, we do what we’re supposed to do, and we won’t apologise for ourselves. We keep the character. I think that since Covid, people have either got twice as grumpy or twice as nice. No one is the same. Normally I would take it very personally and think ‘Why aren’t they having a good experience?’  Now after a few years, I’ve learned that there is much more going on than in that two hour slot. You never know what else is going in in people’s lives. 

So it’s about trying not to make it personal. You try to make the customer understand that you get them. As long as I’m not scored minus one, it’s ok. I don’t need to be plus 10 with you right now because I know that’s not going to happen. As far as we leave on zero, we can maybe redo it again. And then we can see what the next score is going to be. And that’s pretty much how I personally approach things when I’m dealing with the TripAdvisor people.

Gilly: Good attitude. Finally, Brazil or Brighton?

Leo: Brighton for sure… Brighton allows me to be myself. I wouldn’t ever be able to be the loud Leo that I am at Flint House. But also in Brazil those TripAdvisor people you mention, they are everyone. They will be judging the characters, and you have to be apologetic about yourself. And I’m not. 

So definitely Brighton. Yeah, I love a bit of Brightoness.

Sarah:  I run an A Cappella choir called The Dulcetones, we sing vintage-inspired classic tunes and unusual treats covering lots of different styles and eras from ‘60s girl groups to 90s rave. I am affectionately entitled ‘the twisted choir starter’. There’s no choir mistress round here!

It was originally a Middle Street primary school PTA friendship-building experiment with arrangements of groovy songs. We did that for a year or two until the funding ran out, as so often happens with brilliant things in education, so I decided to take it on as my own baby, cover it in leopard print and rebrand as The Ducletones. We’ve been having musical adventures together ever since. 

My mum insists that I was singing before I could talk, and I believe her. I’m a session singer, I teach vocals and I’ve toured with various bands including one called Derriere, but Dulcetonia is where I live. Choir has definitely got me through some tough times, and that’s a pretty common theme… Thursday evenings are magic.  It’s that protected time. So many of us are just completely overwhelmed with work and responsibilities and commitments and so on, and carving out time that is for you when you get to connect with your choir fam is  one of the most meaningful things you can do. No matter what else is going on in your life, you know that you can come to choir – prepared or otherwise – and blast off your life cobwebs. It’s well documented that the act of singing is brilliant for your mental and physical health, but it really takes it to another level when you’re doing it with a group of other people.  You’re literally physically vibrating at beautiful harmonic frequencies and there’s nothing quite like it on the world. 

Amanda: Six years ago, almost to the day, I had just had a little bit of a nervous breakdown. I was in a very, very dark place at the time, but my daughter heard about the choir and persuaded me to join. I felt like I had become a part of a new family, and it really did restore my confidence. Sarah made me feel super welcome, and everybody was amazing. It was really hard to actually walk in here at that time because I was in such a bad place, but I’ve now made friends for life. I’ve been part of choirs before and music was always a massive part of my life, and I knew that it was something that I needed to kind of revisit. I’d been meaning to do it for a long time, but Sarah takes you as you are and I didn’t need to perform in anyway. I didn’t need to be something that I wasn’t. I could turn up and just feel really welcome and yeah, just be me. Sometimes you cry with them afterwards, and just…  Yeah, it’s just amazing.

Sally: Thursdays are my favourite day of the week I’ve never been happier since joining this choir 12 years ago.  Sarah is an ultimate legend; basically you get two for the price of one with her – you get a stand-up comedian and you get the choir.  You make new friends and you get to put yourself out of your comfort zone doing shows. It’s just the best decision I ever made. 

I had only ever sung in the car or the shower before. I never knew what to do with my voice, even though I knew I could sing. It’s not amazing, but I can sing.  I have a voice, and this has enabled me to finally use it. I was 32 before I found my hobby, so yeah it was a long time coming! 

Sara: Choir really has changed my life. I’m 65 now, so I feel like one of the oldest ones here but I’ve always loved singing.  I sang in another choir before but this is just something else. Sarah‘s energy is incredible and she’s such a brilliant singer, and the people here are just wonderful; they even sang at my 60th birthday.  One of my favourite moments in the nine years I’ve been coming was performing David Bowie songs at the Spiegeltent. I love a bit of David Bowie.

Deborah: What’s really changed my life is the community feeling. When you’ve had a really hard week and you feel you can’t do anything or you don’t want to be with anybody, you just feel welcome. The lovely chemicals that are in my body and the joy is incredible.  I don’t even have to sing very well because when you do it amongst people it’s just joyful.  That moment of pause in a really busy life is wonderful. It’s just mine. 

“An Evening With The Ducletones” is on Thursday 21st July at Wagner Hall.  

Follow The Dulcetones on Facebook or check http://www.thedulcetones.co.uk