Did you know there are two million podcasts out there? And every week seven million people tune into their favourite pod – whether it’s something hugely popular like My Dad Wrote A Porno, something smaller more niche like Suzy Buttress’s The Casual Birder or one of the wave of narrative non-fictions like The Missing Crypto Queen. And every time someone sits down to listen to any of the two million podcasts out there, they think “I could do that. I could make a podcast.”  If only they knew how to start and grow a successful podcast. Well, as chance would have it…  

“I’ve been podcasting since 2016 when I was first handed the keys to the delicious. podcast, for the food magazine of the same name”, said Gilly Smith, whose own Cooking The Books pod, a must for food book lovers, has just celebrated its first birthday by being ranked globally in the top 10%. “Delicious was one of the early ones in Britain, but in America podcasts had been making waves for some time”. 

What makes “How To Start…” different is as well as the stuff everyone wants to know but doesn’t really need to know like “What kind of microphone should I use?” it’s packed with stories from the podcasters themselves. There’s Ira Glass, the Godfather of Pod, who created This American Life, the team behind My Dad…, George The Poet…

What’s the secret of a successful podcast? “It’s about really saying something. It’s such a great platform – more and more people want to listen, it’s easier to find great stuff and it costs almost nothing to make. ”So those people who say “I could make that. I could do a podcast”, are they right? 

“Like everything, you have to work at it. Editing takes more skill, not just learning the buttons but knowing what to leave in and take out, but really it’s as easy as storytelling. If you like telling stories, do it. Think about what you want to say and who you want to say it to. Me, I just want to change the world.”

You can find How To Grow A Pod and Cooking The Books on Spotify, Apple Podcasts or wherever you get your podcasts and buy the book from any good – preferably local – bookshop

OK, so we might not have chosen the whole lockdown thing, but that doesn’t mean nothing good came out of it. Gilly Smith finds the idea of community is alive and well

As we stumble into the light of a post-Lockdown world, the streets will soon begin to fill again. We’ll head back into town to spend, spend, spend, or so the chancellor hopes. But will we? 

The covid era has taught us a new way of living, shopping locally, working from home, and a rather old-fashioned idea of community has been a surprise result.

As the government limited shopping trips and supermarket shelves emptied in the first Lockdown and shoppers stockpiled to avoid the new hell of long queues and the masked dash to the checkout, a very British institution re-emerged. 

The corner shop with its smiley service and happy-to-help attitude became the go-to shopping experience for millions. 

According to the Association of Convenience Stores, 57% of corner shops began a delivery service for the first time, while 41% now have a website, and some have even embraced the delivery apps to take advantage of this unexpected boom.

Vinod and Meena have been serving the West Hill community at Bright News on Buckingham Road since 1984, and as locals locked down in March last year, they were part of the first response unit. 

‘We had always done our bit to help people,’ said Vinod. ‘Elderly people, disabled people, they always get a free service. They always know that they can call us.’ No delivery apps here; as Lockdown made people anxious and vulnerable, Vinod found he was suddenly delivering goods across a three miles radius.

‘Basically, you feel like your house is like a jail. You’re frightened to go out’, he said. ‘You’re frightened of the big shops and mixing outside.’ 

But it wasn’t just the delivery service that Vinod, Meena and the team provided. With shelves packed with Infinity foods and an impressive range of wines and spirits, including those imported from Spain by the couple’s son, West Hill’s neighbourhood were wondering why bother with the supermarket, where often there’s not even someone at the checkout to talk to. Going to Vinod’s was the chance for a chat as well as a shop. 

‘We all have our masks on. We social distance and follow the rules, but people are very, very happy and very supportive to us. We like to help as much as possible.’ 

It reminds him of how the shop used to be when they took it over in 1984. 

‘People love the one to one service. People talk about the neighbours, their family, how they have a good time. It’s like it was three or four decades ago, which is wonderful.’

To oak or not to oak, that’s just one of the questions. Andrew Polmear goes where we can’t to find the answers 

Almost everything about wine tasting is supposition, especially what I think of as the ‘Great Debate’- what makes a wine taste as it does? How much is it the result of unalterable things – the ‘terroir’ – and how much due to the intervention of the winemaker?

It’s rare that one has a chance to put anything to a real test. It would need a controlled trial, and that’s not the sort of thing winemakers do. Except for Luc Schweitzer, the owner of Château Bourdieu, in Blaye, Côtes de Bordeaux, an appellation on the right bank of the Gironde river from the châteaux of St Julien in the Upper Médoc, but on different soil and without the cachet that makes those Médoc wines so expensive.

In 2019 Luc made two wines that won prizes at the Decanter World Wine Awards. What’s interesting is that the two wines were made with virtually the same mix of grapes (about 88 % Merlot, the rest being Cabernet Sauvignon and Malbec or Cabernet Franc) from the same vineyards.

The one that scored 97 out of 100 is called Château Bourdieu. It was fermented in stainless steel vats for four weeks, then aged in fresh steel vats before bottling. Luc’s aim was to preserve the original fruit flavours. 

The one that scored a mere 95 points (still a fantastic score for a Blaye wine) is called Château Bourdieu No. 1. It was made in the same way except that it spent six months aging in oak barrels. Luc’s aim was to allow the development of greater aromatic intensity. So, how do they differ?

The judges tasted blind. They only knew that the wines were from Bordeaux. They found the unoaked version  “Flamboyant and deep with ample, lush and fresh forest fruits, bramble and cassis, with cascading sweet spice swiftly following. A super brooding wine which will shine brighter with time”.

The oaked version was praised for its “pristine definition of damson, cherry and plum, with understated vanilla oak. Deep and long, the palate reveals a cascade of fleshy black fruits over ripe, fine-grained tannins and fruit-bonded acidity. Lovely stuff”

So they spotted the difference, even if it’s a bit hidden in their flowery prose. Both were rich in fruit (which ones doesn’t really matter) but the unoaked wine was lush and fresh, while in No.1 they could taste the vanilla of the oak and they detected tannins, that weren’t present in the unoaked wine.

Tasting the two side by side, I would go further. The unoaked version is all about the richness of its fruit. The oaked No.1 goes into a different realm where the fruit is transformed into something deeper and more complex. It’s the slightly smoky, rich velvet of a classic right bank Bordeaux. So now we know that it’s the oak that gives it that. How does it do it? Mainly by being porous. Tiny amounts of water leak out and tiny amounts of air leak in. It’s the oxygen that allows those extra flavours to develop.

While I prefer the No.1, what’s amazing is that both bottles sell for under £15. I bought them online from the wine merchant Exel.

When’s a shop not just a shop? When it’s
a gallery. And an exhibition space. And a …
Sam Toft tells Lucas Castellano what else

Walking through the streets of Seven Dials you will most likely have stumbled across many independent shops, but The Mustard Shop is way more than just a shop. For artist and owner Sam Toft, it’s “a shop, a gallery and a vibrant creative hub with an ethos of generosity, community and charity.”

Sam, who you may well know for her artwork as well as for the Dog and Bone gallery in Powis Square, is turning what was once a shop displaying only her work into what she calls “The Mustard Collective.” 

A collaboration of seven artists bringing a varied and eclectic range of displays such as paintings, doll making, textiles, animation, installation work and murals. 

After getting ill and having to close the shop, Sam turned the idea on its head and realised that by having just a couple of two week shows a year selling her original work she could make the shop viable.

“With the remaining 11 months I thought it would be a lovely idea to invite other artists to help make the shop a vibrant creative hub. Each artist will decide how they want to use the shop and raise money for their chosen charity within their month. Workshops, demonstrations, experiences, competitions, installations… whatever they like,” she said. 

Until May the exhibitions will be hanged in the shop. There will be virtual view online sales thorough YouTube and Sam will be holding a live afternoon tea event on Facebook with her partner and sculptor Graham Alborough. Toft will also be raising money for Breast Cancer Now thorough a live auction of one of the paintings exhibited and will be doing live drawings of people’s pets to raise money for MacMillan. 

This shop is for Sam a dream come true and more now that the space is shared with others. “Working together we can support on another, and also divide the responsibilities.

“I hope that having the shop all lit up and cared for, bright vibrant and full of interesting work will continue to be a real asset to the local community just as the Dog and Bone gallery is,” she said. 

Sam’s tells me this recent lockdown has been a “time to create in different ways and to work more collaboratively.

“My paintings have also taken on a more positive and complaintive narrative I think.”

She has been busy working with pottery masters, working on a limited series of leather bags with Holly M Atelier and making puppets with Brighton Puppetry School.

The future looks busy with a big show in September at Panter and Hall in Piccadilly Circus and the beginning of a new “uplifting and heart-warming” book with her sister which she hopes will be out for Christmas 2022. She’ll also be collaborating again with Holly M Atelier again to bring out a range of leather and vegan accessories and Roberto Gagliano to cast a range of dog sculptures. 

https://breastcancernow.org/

https://www.macmillan.org.uk/

In the first of a new series on local people and places,
Mister Adam looks at a woman who tore up the rulebook

When the whistle came through from Whistler HQ asking if I’d do a column on local history, I dusted off my books and compiled a list of olden days notables from this part of town. 

While the list is shorter than those of more seaward neighbourhoods, its demographics surprised me. The pre-railway districts are dominated by moustachioed fancy hats who look like Sherlock Holmes villains, whereas a surprisingly high percentage of historic Diallers were pioneering women.

So who better to pick for a first column than someone who achieved more firsts than a hangar full of Old Etonians? Helena Normanton (1882-1957) was the first woman to qualify as a barrister. Many other female legal firsts followed; becoming a King’s Counsel, prosecuting a murder trial, taking a case to the High Court and Old Bailey, winning a divorce trial, conducting a case in the USA… the list goes on. She was also the first married woman to demand and receive a British passport in her maiden name.

Helen’s father died in uncertain circumstances when she was four – his body found in a tunnel under Paddington station – and they relocated from London to Brighton. As was often the case with widows from the ‘lower classes’, mum turned their Brighton home into a boarding house to make ends meet. Thus 4 Clifton Place became Helena’s home and part-time workplace for 15 years. 

She later spent a year on Hampton Place at either number 11 or 26 (they renumbered the whole street that year so records differ).

Probably the most pivotal Brighton location in Helena’s trajectory is even vaguer. It was a solicitors office, likely in the Dials area, but where isn’t recorded. Aged 11 she explained mortgage law to her mother, receiving a pat on the head and a slightly patronising “you’d make a great little lawyer” from the solicitor. She decided to take him up on this suggestion – a ballsy move given that no female (let alone a lower class one) was allowed into barrister school back then.

This set Helena on the path to Edge Hill in Liverpool, leaving Brighton in 1903. It was a hotbed of the Suffragette movement which she became heavily involved with. Fast forward to Christmas Eve 1919 and Helena banging on the doors of London’s Middle Inn. The Sex Disqualification Act had just become law. Women were no longer barred from the Bar. Helena was first and her whirlwind of female legal firsts had been set in motion.

She would never forget her upbringing, citing her “gratitude for all that Brighton did to educate me”. You might imagine that crowdfunding was invented by Kickstarter, but the litany of buildings and monuments with ‘by public subscription’ bronzes tells another story. In the final year of her life, Helena repaid the debt she felt to the town and chalked up another first, becoming the first person to donate to the crowdfunder that would create the University of Sussex.

While her name adorns the UK’s only dedicated legal outfitters for women and the only barristers chambers named after one, Brighton itself has been slow to recognise her. The University has fellowships named for her and a number 50 bus bore her name until quite recently, but is a blue plaque on 4 Clifton Place really too much to ask for? 

If you want to pay your respects, Helena Normanton’s ashes are interred at St Wulfran’s in Ovingdean, not far from a moustachioed fancy hat called Magnus Volk.

You can check out Mister Adam’s video series on Brighton history at factmeup.com and his magazine about Brighton’s awesome women’s roller derby team at issuu.com/turnleftmag

Dominic Smith talks to Caraline Brown about her novel and “the best feeling in the world”

I took myself to Ibiza for a month with a copy of “How To Write A Novel In 30 Days”. I thought I could just go there, set up my desk, look out the window and I’d be able to write a book.”

It might have taken more than 30 days, but it’s paid off because last month Caraline Brown’s debut novel The Candlelit Menagerie hit the shelves last month. 

With a background in journalism and particularly PR – Caraline set up Midnight Communications, one of the biggest, most successful PR companies in the country – writing has always been a way of life. Fiction though came with its own challenges.

“Writing fiction is so much more difficult than I ever expected. You think as a businessperson you can just approach it like a business task. But writing complex, realistic, character development is not that simple. You forget that you’re telling the story, so all along the way the decisions from one character will impact the others.”

Set in 18th century London, the story follows Lillian; a young maid struggling to find her place in society, who yearns for something else. When she wakes to hears lions roaring in the distance, her intrigue leads her to discover a candlelit animal emporium – the Menagerie. She quickly begins to find her calling and befriends the exotic animals.

While it’s up to the reader to make their own meanings, Caraline said there was one theme her writing kept coming back to. “The idea of being an outsider and being out of your own environment.” 

The relationship between human and animal is an important aspect of the novel, as Lillian finds her feet in the Menagerie. Trying to give the animals voices and personalities, without them being able to speak, was a challenge: “I was trying to show this without over-anthropomorphising, but our relationship with animals is two ways.” 

Caroline came across the subject matter for book when “By chance I came across a non-fiction book called ‘The Georgian Menagerie’ which coincided with an exhibition in the Brighton Pavilion. I wondered what it might have been like to work in such a place.  I also thought it was quite an unusual setting for a novel.”

The Candlelit Menagerie was first released in the USA, receiving positive feedback online. “I’m delighted, it’s the best feeling in the world when someone reads your book, likes it, and leaves a really positive review.”

The Candlelit Menagerie is published by Arcade Publishing.

Caraline welcomes any questions regarding her novel and would be delighted if you chose it for your book club. She can be contacted via her web site www.karibrown.uk

Pic: Kenny McCracken

And the music scene in Brighton? It’s a blessing and a curse.
Daniel Scully tells Mick Robinson why

Fast guitar hooks, complex keys, intelligent songwriting… What more do you want? 

Creature Creature have just released their debut album, ‘Two Finger Tantrum’ – described by Rock Lifestyle as ‘the best debut of 2020’ – and one day will tour “although this time we’ve had to be patient. It’s been like the longest and most boring game of chess ever.” 

When and where did the band form?

We’re East Brighton born and raised. We started off as very folk-punk and were called 40 Shillings On The Drum, but we slowly gravitated towards straight up rock and punk. We changed the name to Creature Creature to be more fitting with the sound. 

Who came up with the name?

Seb, our keyboard player, saw the film Critters 4 when he was young and it gave him nightmares, so for a while after he told us, we’d shout ‘Creature Creature!’, – a line from the film – and we joked we were going to call the band Creature Creature to remind him about it. Then we did. 

What’s the inspiration for the album? 

The album’s about being unapologetic for who you are and how you want to live your life. As long as you’re not hurting anyone, do what you want. I write all the lyrics and my inspiration comes from many different things; films, tragedies, love, drunken nights, the never-ending tendency of those in power to oppress hardworking people. I tend not to be overly political but there’s definitely messages in there if you dig in. 

Biggest gig you’ve played?

Angmering Social club. No, just kidding, getting abuse and drugged up wasters in our faces and wanting to fight… that was a real low. Biggest would be Beautiful Days festival down in Devon where we met Feeder’s guitarist, Tommy Gleeson, who became the producer of our debut album. Favourite gig would be supporting punk legends UK Subs at Lewes Con Club. 

Fave venue to play?

Hope and Ruin have nailed it as an intimate venue with a big sound. Accessible by up and coming touring bands and local ones alike. They put on some killer shows. We’re still waiting to grace the Concorde 2 though…

Fave venue to watch bands at?

Speaking of Concorde 2, you can’t beat it. Great atmosphere, great people, fine sound system. Always love a show there! Can I praise them anymore? What have we got to do to get a support slot there? Our drummer Matt gives good back rubs. 

What’s your thoughts on the local scene?

The Brighton scene is great, or was great pre-pandemic. Very much hoping we can get it back to where it was once live music starts happening again. To live in an area with a thriving music scene is both a blessing and a curse. It’s great that there’s lots of places and opportunities to play, but also the competition is fierce so you have to work extra hard to stand out. Actually, that’s not a bad thing either. 

Any particular bands?

There’s the obvious ones flying the flag like Royal Blood and Architects, who have deservedly just scored a number one album. If you dig deeper though, there’s a wealth of varied artists to discover. Nice Guy Dave’s just released some more music and he’s always entertaining. 

Any tips for Brighton bands just starting? 

Find the right people with the same aspirations as you. Be sure you’re all on the same page for what you want, it’ll save the ballache of finding new members when you tell them it’s time to make the leap and do a tour. And practice, practice, practice! And then practice some more. A lot of artists gig before they’re ready. It’s important to get a feel for playing live, just don’t put yourself out there until you’re tight. 

Fave bands UK or worldwide ?

So so many, but right now I’m really enjoying some of Bring Me the Horizon and Frank Carter’s new material. It’s so good to hear some heavy artists actually breaking through to commercial radio. From a totally different scene I always enjoy Frank Turner and the Pogues. That folk-punk style of lyrics really helped me develop as a writer myself and is something I’ve brought through to Creature Creature even though the style is different.

And although I’ll never get to see them, I’ve been a long-time fan of The Clash and have recently been rummaging around their live shows on YouTube. That’s perfection right there. 

What bands did you listen to growing up?

Cliche but Oasis got me into music. I wanted to be them for a while but with fuzzy hair, it was just never going to work. From there I went to the Beatles, funny that, then to the Sex Pistols, The Jam, The Clash, The Stooges – anything with some attitude. 

First thing you’ll do when lockdown ends?

Get the bloody band back together in one place! Blast through our album live and loud, then go to the pub for an ice cold pint or ten. We’ve just booked a Brighton show for 14th August, that’s an exclusive! Put it in your diary, full details announced soon (so keep an eye on the Whistler website – ed)

Facebook: 

http://facebook.com/creaturecreatureuk

Twitter:

Instagram:

http://instagram.com/creaturecreatureuk 

YouTube:

http://youtube.com/creaturecreatureuk

Official Website:

http://creaturecreature.co.uk

At time of going to press it looks as though – although we cannot be sure, so let’s touch wood – we’re going to be allowed out soon. 

The days are getting longer, we will be able to meet friends again, or at least do so with a clean conscience. One of the great pleasures I have rediscovered is the simple act of walking along the seafront. It is a hard and damaged heart that cannot be cheered, even when it’s nippy out, by a promenade among the various citizens of this city. 

I’ve lived here for two years and a bit, but I first fell in love with the place in 1984, when I was among the first on the scene when the Grand was blown up by the IRA in 1984. I was staying with journalist friends of mine – they got a call from the desk of their national tabloid telling them to get down there immediately; they brought me, in those days not anything even like a journalist at all, along for the ride. 

Every time I look at the Grand I remember the huge chunk taken out of it by the bomb, and then salute the way that Brighton coped with the event. Ever since then I have been visiting regularly and now I am delighted to have settled here. Every day I love the place more and more. 

   My youngest son is studying at Sussex, living in Brighton. We have got into the habit, once a month or so, no deliberate timetable, of having a beer on the shingle while chatting and looking at the sunset and freezing our bits off. 

The latest dilemma, from a couple of days ago: do we sit against the seawall facing the potentially glorious sunset but being chilled by the wind, or sit with our backs to the wind, on the other side of the wall (or groyne, a word that never fails to delight me) and miss the sunset? In the end we chose to shiver and look at the sunset. Which was glorious. 

A group of young women about my son’s age were sitting a few feet nearer the sea and they asked us to sing “Happy Birthday” to one of them. My son is sternly against the idea of public performance. “No,” he said, firmly, “but I will wish you a happy birthday.” I would have sung my heart out to the birthday girl had I been on my own, and drunker, but I did not want to embarrass either my son, or myself. Or indeed the young women. 

   I asked my son, as we climbed back up the shingle, whether he was going to be staying here for a while after his term finished. I was worried he wasn’t loving the place as it should be loved. “Oh God yes,” he said. He paused to take in the life, the light. “This place is great.”