Bathtub racing with a Strangler

Pom-pom cheerleaders for the bathtub race challenge, led by JJ Burnel,
far right. I'm peaking between the two cheerleaders on the left.

Build a boat from old bathtubs, make it look like a Viking longship and then race it in the sea. As madcap enterprises go, on a scale of one to ten, it was right up there at 12.6.

Those who have read Eating Clouds will already be familiar with this chronicled adventure. But as this weekend marks 31 years since the Ravenlunatic sailed to sea - and with a bunch of dusty photographs from the whole shebang resurfacing during the past year - it seemed timely to look back on this detour from life's serious stuff.

It all started when Jean-Jacques Burnel, bass guitarist with punk/new wave band The Stranglers, watched the annual international bathtub race at Cagnes-Sur-Mer, near Nice, in the south of France in 1985. He wanted to assemble a team for the following year, and early in 1986 put an invitation out through the Stranglers Information Service seeking fans willing to come together to build a bathtub boat.

After the first meeting: Why own a London taxi if you're not
going to test how many people can sit on the roof at the same time?

For me and best pal Rob, being "up for a lark" was a quientessential part of life at 19. So we trundled 100 miles for the first meeting of The Challenge group in a semi-detached house in North London. A mixed group of about 20 gathered. JJ came too. We drew up a plan of action, indicating which components we could source for the bathtub boat and bring along to the next

Jean-Jacques Burnel, left, helps with the construction of the boat
during the first working weekend at Achmed's house in Barnet.

gathering, when work would begin. Before departing we tested the structural integrity of the roof of a London black cab by sitting on it for a team picture.

I secured a dozen large plastic containers that could be used as buoyancy for the boat. These were fitted in place at the first working weekend, where the bathtub boat started to take shape. The design was a Viking longship, after an instrumental track by The Stranglers on their 1979 album The Raven. The main sail and team t-shirts would feature the Raven logo from the album. The boat would be known as the Ravenlunatic.

The boat was soon in transit, or rather strapped to the top of a transit van. We took it to a nearby public pond in Barnet, North London to test its seaworthiness. Who knows what the locals thought of this motley bunch paddling the lake in three bathtubs, however one of them not only thought "call the police" - they actually did.

Call the cops: The test run on a lake in North London.
JJ leads the way. I'm the third one along, officer.

Two police officers arrived, having been told that some kids were messing about on the lake. The officers were surprised to find the "kids" were clearly not wet behind the ears (well, not yet as we hadn't capsized). JJ was a virtual elder statesman kid at 34. The lead officer gave an obligatory spiel about the importance of observing the rules of water safety, then beat a retreat. Meanwhile, we were delighted the boat floated, albeit in a slightly Loch Ness Monster, bouncy fashion. A bit of lateral strengthening was needed.

The boat building and testing then moved to rural Cambridgeshire. A quarry lake near JJ's home became the venue for further "sea trials". The bathtubs were painted black, a dragon masthead was added along with a central mast and black sail with the depiction of a red raven.

Ravenlunatic: a photo from the Record Mirror music magazine of the
boat being tested on the quarry lake. I'm beneath the sail.
The other visible crew members are JJ, Achmed, Grant and Nik.

With the boat now starting to resemble a Viking longship, a call was made to a freelance music press photographer encouraging him to hasten to the lake near St Ives for a few snaps.
A group of us, including The Stranglers' keyboardist Dave Greenfield, hopped into Nik's black cab - the one with the now slightly dented roof - and assembled at the lake to take the boat out for a few laps before the photographer arrived.

The afternoon was ticking away - where was the photographer? There was a call. He had reached St Ives, but it was St Ives in Cornwall, some 300 miles away.
Fortunately, a second photographer was despatched and reached the lake before the sun went down to capture the Ravenlunatic in all her glory. The snaps appeared in the Record Mirror and Melody Maker music papers.

Everything was ready. At the beginning of July a 52-seater coach took the team and the boat almost 800 miles to the South of France. The bathtubs were stowed in the luggage compartments. A further 20 supporters joined the trip, helping reduce the cost-per-head of the epic journey. With everyone decked out in black Challenge t-shirts, featuring the raven, we turned heads on the promenade at Nice. Viking headgear, fake red beards and our posse of pom-pom cheerleaders completed the scene. We were ready to rumble.

Stormy weather: lending a hand as the Ravenlunatic is reassembled.
The crouching man who looks like a coach driver - was our coach driver.

The Ravenlunatic was reassembled on a stony beach at Cagnes-sur-Mer, a few miles from Nice. A race team was picked from the original core group. The rest of us helped and added vocal support from the beach and quay.

Come and have a go: Ravenlunatic mingles among the competition
at the bathtub race championships in Cagnes-Sur-Mer. But all boats
that braved the race course were swiftly sunk by a freaky storm squall.

Something freaky happened to the weather. A storm squall suddenly blew in from nowhere, which meant the race itself did not really take place. The boats played around in the safety of the walled harbour, until a few tried their luck against sea god Neptune, including Ravenlunatic. None survived intact.

But really the escapade was less about the actual race and more about putting together a team, and over the course of four months building a faux Viking longship from a few bathtubs, having fun and forging friendships along the way. The next day the coach was driven into the wooded hills surrounding Nice where there was a freshwater lake that JJ knew about. There we spent an afternoon swimming and floating around in salvaged pieces of the Ravenlunatic. Among those at the picnic was graphic artist Jean-Luke Epstein, who designed the majority of The Stranglers' record covers during the 1980s. Mr Epstein, who died earlier this year, had lent assistance with the construction of the boat.

Madcap adventure complete: a final team group picture, with additional supporters, in front of our coach.
 Look closely and you will see one of the remaining pieces of Ravenlunatic - the dragon masthead

Before leaving the idyllic location we posed in front of our trusty Wallace Arnold coach for a mass picture of crew, boat-building team and supporters. And then it was over.
There are key moments in life that never fade. For me, the spring and summer of 1986 is one. It was about having a spirit of adventure, going into the unknown, doing something a little crazy and different, and having fun. It was a madcap enterprise worthy of celebration.

Footnote: By coincidence, The Stranglers next record was called Nice in Nice and was sung by JJ. It was released a few months after the bathtub race, although the song has nothing to do with that particular adventure. In the video, the band wore prison clothes, referencing their arrest and incarceration after a riot broke out during their 1980 concert at Nice University.

Bye bye, America's Cup

Oracle Team USA at the end of a race during the 35th America's Cup.

After five weeks of thrills and spills as the fastest yachts in the world raced one another, the 35th America's Cup is over. Regarded by many as the pinnacle of the sport, it brought an added dimension to the island during the past month.

A purpose-built 39-acre island was created to hold an event village where spectators could watch the action and enjoy live entertainment and other activities that came along with the Cup. Although it is the oldest sporting trophy in the world (the "Auld Mug" dates back to a challenge race in 1851) I have to admit that until a few years ago I only had the vaguest of ideas about what the America's Cup was. My faint recollection was from mentions I recall hearing while travelling in Western Australia in 1988, the year after Fremantle had hosted the event.

All that changed two years ago when the defenders Oracle Team USA decided to base themselves and the cup match in Bermuda.

One by one the teams started to relocate here and practice sailing on the Great Sound. Oracle led the way, and I admired how they conducted themselves - getting involved in the community, helping with charities, visiting schools and setting up educational opportunities around the sport, including two sailing programmes for young people.

With Oracle skipper Jimmy Spithill, second from right, after the
Sir Stanley Burgess 5K road race in May 2016.

Oracle team members also showed up at public events and took part in non-sailing sporting activities. The Oracle team last year ran a relay formation in Bermuda's most famous race, the May 24 half marathon. And I can attest that skipper Jimmy Spithill was also a tenacious competitor in a 5K race a few weeks earlier. For three miles we engaged in a relentless tussle, never gaining more than a few metres' advantage before switching positions again. In the end, Spithill gained the upper hand and powered away to the finish. That taught me a lot about the "never give up" attitude of the man who had pulled off one of sport's greatest comebacks when he went from 8-1 down to win 9-8 in the previous America's Cup in 2013.

The America's Cup brought a two-year buzz to the island that reached a crescendo from late May until the final race on Monday, when challenger Emirates Team New Zealand completed an impressive 7-1 win against Oracle. Thousands of people made almost daily visits to the event village, while millions more around the world watched live TV coverage and highlights.

Meeting Jono 'The Bear' Macbeth, left, and Sir Ben Ainslie.

Bermuda put on a great show, with a smooth running operation, relaxed atmosphere and an event village that catered for young and old. The weekend before it all began, Heather and I met Sir Ben Ainslie and Jono Macbeth of the Land Rover BAR team at a promotional event. And we experienced the busy first day of the Cup - which under brilliant clear skies included the first set of races, an opening ceremony celebrating Bermuda's heritage, a short concert by Wyclif Jean, and stage appearances by the six teams from France, Britain, Sweden, Japan, New Zealand and the USA.

The event village from the media centre.

The event village was a microcosm of world society with its mixture of locals and the overseas visitors, and many decked out in replica jerseys and t-shirts of their favoured Cup team.
Other nations in the Youth Team America's Cup contest included homegrown Team BDA.

Bermuda's waters were filled by spectator boats, visiting yachts and superyachts, and numerous sailing events held in conjunction with the main attraction.

Ferries to and from Dockyard were invariably busy, particularly during the weekends of the America's Cup. Excitement and friendliness was present in abundance among friends and strangers. The event village included a children's play area, a fun educational tent where aspects of the sport were revealed in a "hands on" way, astro grass to relax on, bean bags, sunshade tables, and island-centric food and drink outlets.
Even if you could not get there in person, the racing drama and post-race press conference were broadcast worldwide on TV and the internet. It was a spectacle that lived up to and surpassed high expectations.

Fans greet Peter Burling, helmsman of Emirates Team New Zealand,
shortly after New Zealand won the America's Cup on Monday.

Now that it has finished and everything is being packed up and shipped away, the island seems a little emptier. But there remains a legacy of inspiration and heightened aspirations.

Bermuda salutes all the teams as they depart, but particularly Oracle Team USA who adopted the island as their home these past two years. To all the teams and visitors: "Fair winds and following seas."

BELOW: A short flavour of the America's Cup in this video from the organisation as it thanked Bermuda for hosting the 35th edition.

Love the song #3: Nobody's Diary

Alison Moyet singing Nobody's Diary at a concert in Berlin in 2015.

Nobody's Diary was released by Yazoo almost 35 years ago. It was the fourth and final single from the duo, who had been together for barely a year.

Singer Alison Moyet wrote the lyrics, with Vince Clarke providing the uncluttered synthpop backing that today sounds as remarkably fresh as it did when released in May 1983.

Moyet's powerful, bluesy voice added an extra dimension to Clarke's stark yet innovative synthesizer compositions. It was a potent mixture that stood out from the crowd.

I have chosen Nobody's Diary as the third in this occasional series where I highlight a song that particularly inspires, uplifts or simply grabs me.

Burning brightly like a struck match, Yazoo dazzled for a fleeting moment and then were gone. Two hit albums, four hit singles before they went their separate (and successful) ways.

They quit at the top, and Nobody's Diary was a perfect song to go out on. Moyet's lyrics are a powerful blend of yearning and forthrightness, while Clarke's keyboard playing, with chords crisply described through single line notes, is all the more memorable and powerful for its simplicity.

Yazoo's earlier hits Only You and Don't Go might edge Nobody's Diary when it comes to mainstream familiarity, but for me the richly etched heartache and delivery of Nobody's Diary soars higher.

Below is the official Yazoo video from 1983, followed by a recording of Moyet (minus Clarke) giving a powerful rendition of the song in 2015.

The Carrie Fisher tribute video

This wonderful tribute to Carrie Fisher was shown at the Star Wars Celebration event in Florida on Thursday. The clips and words do a great job highlighting the warmth, humour and humility of Fisher, and bringing home what a remarkable talent she was.

Watching this video reinforced many of the thoughts I shared in the blog post Star Wars: farewell to Carrie and Kenny. I was also struck by the sense of time passing - seeing the 19-year-old Fisher auditioning for the role and starring as Princess Leia in the original film, then reprising the character 40 years later.

The young Carrie Fisher in the mid-1970s with a row of arcade space games

The video tribute includes a clip of the casually dressed Fisher standing in front of a bank of clunky-looking arcade space games. She could be any teenager or young woman of the mid-70s enjoying a moment at an arcade, even though by then she was the iconic heroine of the original Star Wars. I well-remember the era of such arcades, having visited many. For me this is a poignant clip. There is a slightly surreal edge to seeing the young Fisher away from the imagery of Star Wars, relaxing in an arcade like so many young people of the time.

She will be greatly missed. We will see her again in the upcoming Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi, when it is released in December. She completed the filming of that movie before she died.

The magic Fisher brought to so many people's lives shines on.

Garfunkel as artful as ever

Art Garfunkel was a mesmorising presence from the moment he took to the stage at the Civic Arts Plaza, in Thousand Oaks, California. His voice belied his 75 years and the forced multi-year hiatus from singing caused by vocal chord problems that prematurely curtailed the most recent Simon & Garfunkel reunion tour.

On Sunday evening it was as though he had never been away. His vocal dexterity seemingly boundless, as it had been half-a-century ago when the songs of Simon & Garfunkel spanned the world, searing into the collective consciousness of those who heard them in the moment, and those who came across them in later years.

That one of the greatest purveyors of popular music can still recreate the nuances of tone and texture that shaped classics such as The Boxer, The Sound of Silence, and Bridge Over Troubled Waters, is a joy.

Yes, the singing showed a degree of fragility, as would be expected from a performer who turns 76 this year. Garfunkel warned he would not be attempting the higher notes at the finale of Troubled Waters, but he and his two backing musicians had come up with an abridged version. "It's a work in progress," said Garfunkel. The standing ovation that followed the song was testament to its effectiveness.

It was a pared-back show, with Garfunkel singing, acoustic guitar by Tab Laven, and piano and keyboards by Dave Mackay. The intimate show was enriched by Garfunkel sprinkling in words of prose and poetry from his upcoming autobiography, to be released this September.

He took us to days gone by, not only the immediate pre-fame years as he and Simon busked around England and Paris, but to his childhood in Queens, New York. However, it was the songs that most magically transported the audience into their own precious memory moments. Scarborough Fair was an early gem for the evening, as was The Sound of Silence, which Garfunkel introduced as "the song that changed my whole life".

Garfunkel spoke of his walking journeys across the US and Europe. While on the latter trek he encountered cows in a field. The animals gathered around as he sang to them and, in their widening eyes, he sensed an inter-species connection through song. The anecdote led into his seminal solo hit, Bright Eyes, a worldwide smash except in the US, where the record company decided not to release it as it did not believe it would fit with the musical scene of 1979.

During the evening, Garfunkel alluded to the magic of connection through song between a performer and audience. He said it was at an early age that he realised he had a gift for singing when he saw how deep feelings, and even tears, were evoked in listeners. He decided to stick with singing and the world was enriched as a result, through the classics of Simon & Garfunkel, and his later solo work including 99 Miles to LA and Bright Eyes.

At the Thousand Oaks concert, Garfunkel's vocals were rich and gently nuanced. In the simplicity of the acoustic show his voice soared freely, taking the audience on a journey along an incredible half-century of music and songs.

I never thought I'd have the opportunity to attend a concert by Garfunkel. So it was by fortunate chance that Heather and I happened to be staying a few miles down the road from the venue, and that we saw a mention in a local newspaper that Garfunkel was due to put on a solo show. It was an evening to savour, and the songs reverberated with crystal clarity in my mind at daybreak each morning as I ran through the canyon trails.

BELOW: A recording of Garfunkel singing Bridge Over Troubled Waters, not at Thousand Oaks, but in New York City a few weeks earlier.

Ultimate writer's distraction - keyboard cleaning

Dismantling and cleaning your keyboard - the ultimate distraction for a writer

Sometimes writing is not easy. And when the words aren't flowing, and it is too painful to look anymore at the empty screen or blank piece of paper, writers are known to find inventive ways to distract themselves.

A tidy up of the desk, a bit of housework, cleaning the windows. You name it, any mundane task will do. Well, dismantling your computer keyboard and giving it a mighty spring clean is one of the more elaborate "get out" distractions. But it has tangible benefits, is quite relaxing and feels therapeutic.

And so I did. Not with my home computer keyboard, which I am happy to say is kept in fairly good condition. But instead the task at hand was my workplace keyboard. Now, it's fairly well-looked after compared to some I've seen in near proximity, but I knew it needed a little attention, and so I set to work and soon discovered that "needed a little attention" was an understatement. Please don't judge me.

Here are six easy steps to guide you (with photos) should you decide to do your own keyboard spring clean.

1. Unplug the keyboard from the computer. Take a photograph of the keyboard before you start. A close up, but showing all the keys. You'll need this as a reference at the end when you put all the keys back in place.

2. Prise off the keys one by one, using a blade, such as a screwdriver head, or rounded butter knife. Slide the blade under a side or corner of the key and lever up.

3. When all the keys are off you'll see how much debris has gathered beneath. You can remove much of this with a small brush. Then use a damp cloth or disinfecting wipes to give the area a thorough clean. Use Q-tips, or ear buds, to get into all the corners (and hey, the verdict is in ... don't push these things deep into your ears. Who knew?)

4. Clean each of the dismantled keys with a wet cloth or wipes. But don't use a cleaning agent, such as alcohol, that could strip the lettering from the keys.

5. Snap the keys back into place. Note you may find some keys have a thin piece of metal underneath. I found two, one was the space bar and the other was a "shift" key. It should be obvious how to align these so they keep that distinctive responsive feel when pressed. Put these keys back in place first as it will make it easier, then replace the other keys (using your original photo as a guide).

6. Tada! Your keyboard looks brand new, is hygienically safe, and you can at last get down to writing that magnificent novel with no further excuses.

Oh wait, the bottom of the oven looks like it needs a scrub. I'll be back shortly.

Star Wars: farewell to Carrie and Kenny

Carrie Fisher's autograph, sent from Elstree Studios in 1979

Opening the garden gate on my way to work on Tuesday, my attention was drawn to something unusual. Two small party balloons were caught at the top of a power pole opposite. Fluttering in the thinnest of breeze, they were tethered by ribbon tails snagged on the wires.

As the two escaped balloons danced I inspected them from below and noticed they were decorated with Star Wars characters. When I returned home that evening the balloons had gone, and I was reflecting on the news that Carrie Fisher had died a few hours earlier.

During the past few days I've thought about Carrie, and also about Kenny Baker who passed away in August. They were the first movie stars to write their autograph for me when I was 12 years old, and many decades later were two of the three actors from Star Wars I was fortunate to encounter in person.

It was a long time ago - to be precise, 38 years ago - when I sent a letter to Elstree Studios, just outside London, and marked it for the attention of the film crew working on The Empire Strikes Back.  Enclosed within was my HMS Victory souvenir autograph book with its small coloured pages, a stamped self-addressed envelope, and a note requesting whoever dealt with the letter if they would be kind enough to ask any Star Wars actor if they would write an autograph. 

I waited in hope for the book to come back. One day it did. There was no note, just the book. Inside, two pages bore signatures, one was a boldly scrawled 'Kenny Baker, R2-D2 - Star Wars', the other was best wishes from Carrie Fisher.

Carrie's writing appeared understated, almost apologetic in its unflorished smallness, not even taking up half a page in the three-inch wide book. The hallmarks of her signature were there, the hooked 'c' and the quirky look of the double 'r', but it lacked the more flamboyant style she would adopt in later years. Beneath her name she sweetly added 'Princess Leia' in parenthesis, in case it might not be a given which character she played.

That unassuming approach was understandable. She was barely into her twenties, and lasting worldwide recognition was not assured for the Star Wars actors, despite the 1977 film smashing box office records. There was no guarantee the sequel then being filmed would live up to the success of its predecessor.

I was delighted with the autographs from two heroes of my favourite film. R2-D2, as operated by Kenny, was one of the movie's most iconic creations. While Carrie as Princess Leia was a strong, spirited heroine who led by example and fearlessly expressed herself when confronting arch-villans. But she also exhibited empathy and a deeply caring side, strikingly crystallised in Star Wars as Luke Skywalker reflected on the loss of Ben Kenobi - Leia was there comforting and reassuring. Faced with uncertainties or emotional jolts, she was the person you most wanted to have by your side.

Carrie became much more than the princess from Star Wars. In life, she displayed those same qualities of warmth, compassion and honesty, together with an admirable fearlessness and a sense of humour never dimmed even as she faced personal struggles, much of which is detailed in her autobiographical book Wishful Drinking.

Carrie Fisher and Richard Dreyfus in Bermuda, 2007

Many decades after receiving their autographs, I encountered Carrie and Kenny in person.

Carrie was first. She was on the jury panel of the Bermuda International Film Festival in 2007. In a contemporaneous account for Microdot News, a light-hearted newsletter I sent to friends and family at that time, I wrote:

Star Wars heroine Princess Leia, or more precisely actress Carrie Fisher, came to Bermuda for the film festival. She and Richard Dreyfus (Jaws, Close Encounters etc) were the star judges of the festival.

As a life-long fan of the original Star Wars trilogy this presented an opportunity I didn’t expect – to see a Star Wars legend. There was one small problem; I was scheduled to listen to a bunch of business-types froth at the mouth talking about internal audits at the same time that Fisher and Dreyfus were giving a free lunchtime chat 100 yards away. What to do? What to do? I know……Use the Force.

By bending the space-time continuum (I explained to my editor), I’d be able to duck into the film stars' lunchtime chit-chat for a few minutes before going to the 'not-to-be-missed' internal audit extravaganza over the road. It worked and I got to listen to a little of the talk, with Ms Fisher, now 50, bemoaning the fact that she doesn’t make a penny from all the Princess Leia action figures sold. I saw the two stars at the film festival wrap party and was amazed how small they both were (about 5ft 2in average) as they walked in front of me. Midway through the night as the party waned I left, only to bump into Dreyfus coming back down the corridor from his hotel room to the party having decided to give it another go.

Kenny Baker as R2-D2

Three years ago, while attending a film stars and astronauts event in London, Heather and I met Kenny and Dave Prowse (Darth Vader). We spoke with Kenny and his wife Valerie Gale a few times, and Kenny showed happy recognition whenever Bermuda was mentioned. I asked him if he had been approached to reprise his role in the-then upcoming Star Wars reboot The Force Awakens. He said he did not know about that, although as it transpired he was called up in a consultative capacity regarding R2-D2. It was his last film role.

During the past few days I have been contemplating Carrie's autograph from 38 years ago. To me it is less a piece of movie-related memorabilia, and more a representation of a moment in time. It symbolises kindness from a young actress leaving her teenage years behind, to a boy on the verge of becoming a teenager - a simple token of universal humanity shared between strangers along life's journey.

Farewell Carrie and Kenny, and thank you for the joy and happiness you gave to so many.

Carrie Fisher and Kenny Baker, as Princess Leia and R2-D2 in the first Star Wars film