13 minute read
Cover Story By Robin Mills
Robin Mills met Sam Brown in West Dorset
© Sam Brown Photograph by Robin Mills
Advertisement
Coming to live here in Dorset 6 years ago has just been fantastic. I teach ukulele 2 days a week in Oxfordshire, usually arriving home on a Thursday night around midnight. I get out of the car, and before I even think about going indoors I stand outside the house and enjoy the peace—just the sounds of the countryside at night. And I love that there’s no light pollution. ’ I was born in Stratford in east London, where my Dad comes from. My Mum, Vicki, came from Liverpool. At the age of 17, in the late ‘50s; she was with a group called the Vernons Girls, as a singer and dancer. They came to perform in London, and despite being strictly chaperoned all the time she met my Dad, the singer and guitarist Joe Brown, and they married. I was born in 1964, and we continued living in Essex until 1977. I have a brother, Pete, to whom I’m very close; although together we can be a bit frightening. If you met my Dad you’d know why, and if you met my Nan you’d know why even more. She was 6ft 1in and looked like John Wayne in True Grit, but she was a lovely East End lady, and ran a pub there. In 1977 we moved to a village in Oxfordshire, and Nan came to live in a cottage nearby. My Dad still lives in the area. Mum became a session singer, doing backing vocals for people like T Rex, David Bowie and many other well known acts; she was very good at it, became quite successful and that’s really how I got into music. At the age of 13 I was writing songs, and learning classical piano. My Mum and Dad’s involvement in the music scene of the day meant that our house was always a party house; however they both came from traditional working class backgrounds, and Dad’s rather Victorian attitude to bringing up children meant he could be pretty harsh at times. Given that it was the
late ‘60s/early ‘70s, our house was always full of—for want of a better expression—“creative people”, so life could be a bit bonkers. My Mum was lovely, very beautiful, but very sadly she died of cancer when she was 50. Dad could be a little distant at times but was and still is great fun. Pete, my brother, also very musical, became a sound engineer, and sings and plays guitar.
I started doing backing vocals with my Mum when I was 13 or 14; in fact that was when I started singing professionally. By the time I was 17 I had moved to London and rented my own flat. I loved working—I had a cleaning job, I was waitressing, and singing session work and backing vocals; it was the busy life in some ways I’ve always craved, and I began to write more and more songs. In 1986 I signed a record deal with A&M Records, eventually releasing the album Stop. I also had a publishing deal, which manages the publication and collection of royalties for the song writing; the record deal is about recording, PR and selling of the records. Never having been a seeker of celebrity, I found the publishing deal the more dignified of the two, and in fact I’m still with the same publisher.
Stop took a while to achieve success, perhaps not sounding like the other music of the day. However, initially it took off in Holland, made No1 there, then after popularity spread to Spain, Belgium and Germany it started to get airtime on British radio and became a big hit here, eventually selling two and a half million copies. The next three years involved travelling the world doing PR, just me and my manager, doing photo sessions and interviews. It was fun, but I really didn’t enjoy not doing any music. I worked on the second album, April Moon, before my Mum was ill with cancer, and then after she died I brought out the third album, 43 Minutes. It was a devastating time for me, and I became disillusioned with producing music under the control of a record company. What I loved the most was playing live and writing songs. 43 Minutes was a concept album, an expression of how things were for me at the time, and still sells; I have retrieved the
© Sam Brown Photograph by Robin Mills
rights back from A&M, so I market it myself.
In 1993 I became pregnant with my daughter Vicky, and bought a house in Scotland, where my ex-husband and I built a recording studio. In ’94 I went on a world tour with Pink Floyd for a year, taking Vicky, aged 7 months, with me. A year later my son Mohan was born. I’d known David Gilmour through my parents, sang on their album of that time, Division Bell, and have worked with them over several years. David was one of the musicians who lived not far from us in Oxfordshire, along with George Harrison, Alvin Lee from 10 Years After, and Mick Ralphs from Mott the Hoople; it became a bit of a rock star neck of the woods, being close to London, but importantly for a touring musician, it’s in the centre of the country with good connections. Before they were famous, the Beatles supported my Dad at the Cavern in Liverpool, and being Liverpudlian, my Mum had also met them through her work. In those early days, musicians would meet up in each other’s houses, sit around with a drink and play guitars, and George Harrison and Dad became close friends, sharing a great interest in the ukulele— George had a collection of hundreds. And when Dad remarried, George was his best man. I knew George, had done some backing vocals for him, and when he was very ill, Jools Holland and I went to see him in Italy to put together a song called Horse to the Water on an album Jools was making. After he died, in 2001, Olivia Harrison asked Jools and me to perform it at the Concert for George tribute concert, at the Albert Hall, exactly a year after his death. It was for me, and everyone who was involved in that concert, the most incredible experience. Most of the musicians there that night were people I’ve worked with many times over the years, and although I don’t know them as friends they were so lovely to me. The Hall had an amazing atmosphere that night, with incense burning and gorgeous silk drapes everywhere, making the space perfect for the Indian and western musical celebration that followed. I will never forget that night.
I toured with Jools Holland for 15 years, commuting from Scotland, and bringing up two young children. I worked too hard, eventually suffering a nervous breakdown, and my marriage fell apart. I was doing voice training, trying to look after my voice, but during a tour with my Dad in 2006 I was having big problems, finding I couldn’t hit the notes or sing in tune, and by 2007 I had to stop working. I still don’t know what exactly went wrong. Luckily I had some royalty income from the song writing, but I had to do whatever I could to earn money, because I had a massive mortgage, two houses and two children. I started teaching ukulele, and it soon went mad, going from nine people in my living room to 20 people in a shed, to hiring a hall, all in about six months. I love teaching, and my performing career has taught me how to keep an audience’s attention. And I love my students, who have had such a variety of interesting lives—some have been coming for 10 years. We’ve performed in various places, including Paris, but mostly we just have a laugh. I teach three clubs in Oxfordshire, but I have two clubs here in Dorset; one quite big group is in Sherborne, of 30-odd people. As a beginner, you have to learn quite a lot to start with, but being part of a group makes it a comfortable and fun way to learn. The other group is in Dorchester, at Tom Brown’s pub. All my groups have been continuing on Zoom this last year, but soon we hope to be back together. And now I have 2 online clubs in London, and one in Western Australia!
I’ve almost become too busy through lockdown. It’s lovely to be in Dorset, and it’s helped me to start writing songs again, although it’s a different process now, because before I would use my voice. So the music now, which I’m writing with a friend, is a little like 80s electronica, a genre I knew nothing about, and in time I will be quietly making a record. I’m loving it—something I’ll never let go of.
© Sam Brown Photograph by Robin Mills
Business and brand names have been a source of fascination for many of us over the years and whilst the bulk of names were based on something relevant to their products, such as Our Price Records, Opal Fruits, or Tie Rack, to name a few that no longer exist, there were many whose titles were more obscure. This month Etsy snapped up Depop for a reported $1.6bn. The founders of both businesses have said that their company names have no particular meaning. Robert Kalin, one of the founders of Etsy, is quoted as saying he ‘wanted a nonsense word’ because he wanted to build the brand from scratch. While Depop founder, Simon Beckerman, told Esquire magazine that the name ‘doesn’t really mean anything’. Today, those ‘meaningless’ names represent serious money in the bank for the owners of both companies. Other names like Zippo lighters for example came because the founder liked the word ‘zipper’, while ‘Google’ came about because of an accidental misspelling of the word googol. Researching the closed pubs and the new businesses in and around the Marshwood Vale recently, I was struck by the brightness of some of the new additions. Bar and restaurant names have changed from the likes of the Fisherman’s Arms and the Victoria Inn to Dorshi, Soulshine, Hoppiness, and Bowlcut. In the past, the names came from sources that included historic events, sports, trades, or animals—The Trafalgar, The Bat & Ball, The Mason’s Arms, or The Red Lion. The longest pub name is reported to be ‘The Old Thirteenth Cheshire Astley Volunteer Rifleman Corps Inn’ in Stalybridge in Greater Manchester. The town also boasts the pub with the shortest name, ‘The Q Inn’. I love the newness and positivity of modern business names but the traditional side of me also likes a name that is easily understood. A pub I spent a lot of time in during my youth was called ‘The Hideout’. It was a name inspired by the idea of a haven from the outside world, but also because when the public phone rang in the lounge bar, at least three people would turn around and in a loud whisper say: ‘I’m not here!’ If truth be told, in some cases they really hadn’t a clue where they were. 3 Cover Story By Robin Mills
12 Past, Present & Future - Mary Benger 16 Event News and Courses 24 News & Views
28 Was your Grandparent a spy? By Martyn Allen 30 Medically Deferred By Cecil Amor
32 House & Garden
32 Vegetables in July By Ashley Wheeler 34 July in the Garden By Russell Jordan 36 Property Round Up By Helen Fisher
38 Food & Dining
38 The Changing Face of Hospitality By Fergus Byrne 44 Meringue Nougats By Lesley Waters 46 Pigeon Salad with Sea Buckthorn By Mark Hix 47 Handlining By Nick Fisher
48 Arts & Entertainment
48 Hang on for Summer Events By Gay Pirrie Weir
50 Galleries
53 Young Lit Fix By Antonia Squire 54 Summer History Reading By Bruce Harris 55 Screen Time By Nic Jeune 56 Keeping Memories Alive By Ninette Hartley
57 Health & Beauty 58 Services & Classified
Fergus Byrne
Published Monthly and distributed by Marshwood Vale Ltd Lower Atrim, Bridport Dorset DT6 5PX
For all Enquiries Tel: 01308 423031 info@marshwoodvale. com Editorial Director
Fergus Byrne
Deputy Editor
Victoria Byrne
Design
People Magazines Ltd Like us on Facebook Instagram marshwoodvalemagazine Twitter @marshwoodvale
Contributors
Martyn Allen Cecil Amor Seth Dellow Helen Fisher Nick Fisher Richard Gahagan Bruce Harris Ninette Hartley Mark Hix Nic Jeune Russell Jordan Robin Mills Gay Pirrie Weir Antonia Squire Lesley Waters Ashley Wheeler
The views expressed in The Marshwood Vale Magazine and People Magazines are not necessarily those of the editorial team. Unless otherwise stated, Copyright of the entire magazine contents is strictly reserved on behalf of the Marshwood Vale Magazine and the authors. Disclaimer: Whilst every effort is made to ensure the accuracy of dates, event information and advertisements, events may be cancelled or event dates may be subject to alteration. Neither Marshwood Vale Ltd nor People Magazines Ltd can accept any responsibility for the accuracy of any information or claims made by advertisers included within this publication.
NOTICE TO ADVERTISERS
Trades descriptions act 1968. It is a criminal offence for anyone in the course of a trade or business to falsely describe goods they are offering. The Sale of Goods Act 1979 and the Supply of Goods and Services Act 1982. The legislation requires that items offered for sale by private vendors must be ‘as described’. Failure to observe this requirement may allow the purchaser to sue for damages. Road Traffic Act. It is a criminal offence for anyone to sell a motor vehicle for use on the highway which is unroadworthy.
SLAPSTICK Picnic is a new name on the open air summer tour circuit, but their provenance, from the creators of The HandleBards cycling troupes, promises lots of laughs and fun. The company is touring Oscar Wilde’s The Importance of Being Earnest, with performances at Bridport’s Millennium Green on Wednesday 21st July, the Marine Theatre at Lyme Regis on Wednesday 28th and Maumbury Rings at Dorchester on Thursday 29th. Slapstick Picnic takes a fantastically wild(e) trip through this classic comedy, ripping up the rule book and celebrating silliness. So prepare to witness the impossible—the entirety of Oscar Wilde’s classic play of manners, affairs and handbags being performed by just two rather dashing entertainers. Don’t forget to bring your own seats, picnic blankets and filled hampers to the proceedings, and wear attire suitable for the meteorological conditions. And pack those cucumber sandwiches, of course.
