The beestonian issue 24 2014 by The Beestonian

ISSUE 24: brought to you in a blur of menthol, mucus and magic FREE

The Nursery of Beestonia, BESTonian: Charity shops, Fifty not out, Kime strength, Bow selecta, The top table, Horace’s half hour, CODEWORD, Dead funny, Turrell vision, Tram sagas, Au contraire: BOOKS, Beeston beats, Famous last words…

ews broke recently that Wilko’s was claiming a staggering £6m as part of its forced closure due to the tram. That’s on top of an undisclosed amount paid initially. Wilko’s, despite being offered alternative premises by Beeston Square’s developers, Henry Boot, preferred to take the money and get rid of half its staff: those remaining were relocated and demoted. Wilko’s is presently looking to expand its business in the lucrative South, so closing a store in the Midlands where any signs of the end of the recession are still hard to see, was a stroke of luck for them. At the other side of town is Greenfingers florist. The independent, family run business, finally succumbed to the effects of the tram works after 30 years of trading - to move to Cossall. Their leaving present? A rather snide remark from NET, baffled as to why a business, that once had thousands of people passing it daily, would be affected when “there are no tram works outside their shop”. This stupidity is akin to a surgeon amputating a patient’s leg and then being amazed when the patient couldn’t feel their toes. Both shops were popular and well-loved in Beeston, so why the hugely different fortunes?

A tale of two shops

Why does one get a sack of cash, and the other a mere naive and indifferent shrug? The tram is an inevitability. It’s generally agreed that we need Beeston ‘fit for purpose’ when it arrives: full of independent shops giving people a reason to travel from Nottingham to visit; an inviting, unique town. Imagine what the £6m Wilko’s pay-out could have done for Beeston. In January, I chaired a public meeting with Nick Palmer which saw 140 Beestonians turn up and offer hugely positive, informed and interesting ideas on what we can do to ensure our town thrives up to and after the arrival of the tram. As such, a ‘steering group’ of volunteers (incorporating the Civic Society, The Beeston Express, The Beestonian and other local groups) will be meeting soon to discuss the feasibility of theses ideas. This is a real chance for us Beestonians to have our voice heard over the clamour of NET, developers and politicians – who have often seemed to treat the issues as a political football. Where we’ll be in a year’s time is still up for grabs. Make sure you have your say while there’s opportunity. And to NET spokespeople I’d say: maybe learn to look at the rest of town rather than just the hole you’re digging… Lord Beestonia

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The Nursery of

Beestonia

BESTonian: Beeston’s finest Charity Shops

custardino.blogspot.co.uk

Our monthly salute to the Best of Beestonians.

t sounds mad to me that anyone could hate, or disapprove of, charity shops. As someone who was practically weaned on the concept of buying almost everything (food and bus tickets being obvious exceptions) from them, I can’t understand it.

BOOM! Beestonian has babies

hroughout time, our species has strove to find ways to encourage fertility, and therefore, babies. From amulets, spells and potions through to the less hocus-pocus methods of IVF and sitting with your man-sack in ice before putting it to use. However, it seems that the most effective way to encourage offspring is by simply becoming part of The Beestonian.

Of course there are negative aspects. Take the Oxfam Book Shop for example. It could be argued that such an institution creates an uneven competition against real book shops. Beeston Bookshop has to buy its stock, pay its employees, and pays a higher rent because it hasn’t got Charity status. But it is a small independent bookshop, one of the few, and there is little doubt that it must suffer as a result of the Oxfam Book Shop which has few paid employees, free stock, and low rent. It’s hard to look at this specific example and be able to argue against it, isn’t it? Hmmm... You might also look at the high street, indeed any high street, and notice the rise in number of charity shops of late. There are a lot of them. However, this is an easily confused argument. You could say there are too many. You could also say that they are a response to an economic downturn; the rise in their numbers reflects a rise in the number of people in society needing help from charities. Factor-in the Government’s relentless and cruel cuts in the charitable sector, and you might suspect that the increase in charity shops is a direct result – they are searching for income elsewhere.

A mere three weeks later, our co-founder, resident don and favourite Yorkshireman Prof J (Matt Jones) and his wife Keely brought Freya (photo above, top) into the world. As both parents are academics, I’ve gone and stuck a fiver on at William Hill that their tiny bundle will one day be awarded a Nobel Prize. No pressure, there then…

But all of that is irrelevant, at least to me. I’m not here to defend a particular charity shop, nor am I here to criticise how they are funded. I am here to defend the Charity Shop as an institution. Oxfam, Cancer Research, Nottinghamshire Hospice and the rest are all providing valuable and much needed support and resources to the most vulnerable and ‘at risk’ in society. For nearly a year, The Beestonian followed ViTaL, a charity shop run by Young Potential which wanted to give young people support to deal with social exclusion, poverty, poor living conditions, neglect, abuse or insecurity. Tragically, the shop was closed, but the charity continues to do good work. They’re trying to get a new place right now. I, for one, sincerely hope they do.

Both babies are doing well, and both set of parents are ‘enjoying’ (my word, not theirs) their new one-hour-a-night’s sleep regime. We would also like to cordially point out that, if they are going to be awake anyway, they might as well write something. Perhaps do a bit of proof-reading. Maybe that interview with the chap from the Tram we keep meaning to conduct. And perhaps get in their early and train up their new arrivals: we’re always looking for new writers. So there it is: The Beestonian: Britain’s Most Fertile LB Publication. Pay heed, Quizmaster Horace…

Charity shops aren’t just a valuable resource for the needy, they’re also a great place to shop. Just ask my family. Where do you think we buy our clothes and shoes, toys, DVDs and CDs, bags, books...? My sister even bought a giant plastic chicken to go on her windowsill. By using charity shops – either by donating goods we no longer want, or buying secondhand the things we need – we’re not simply depositing our money in overseas bank accounts of multi-nationals or tycoons; we’re actually CF putting it back into the society of which we are a part.

On 26 December, our Bow Selecta columnist (and Nottingham’s Official Robin Hood), Tim Pollard and his partner Sally (Nottingham’s Official Maid Marion) received the Christmas present that is the beautiful Scarlett (photo above).

Fifty not out

How does this affect women of that age?

“I think that gives ordinary women a fear that they are likely to disappear/ be completely overlooked come middle-age, or are only visible if they look amazing (and younger than they really are) - or if they are visible, they run the risk of being pilloried for any aspect of their appearance that popular culture and media judges is inappropriate – often with very personal and hurtful attacks. It can mean that women feel they have to compete on these grounds, with increasingly higher maintenance which takes up a lot of time and money, or give up and shrink away from this risk. Women don’t have as many, or as big a variety, of role models in popular culture to be inspired by in mid-life and beyond. It can feel daunting.” So it seems that, especially for women, ageing is intrinsically linked to looks and attractiveness. How have the women you interviewed reacted to this norm, and what have they done about it?

“I don’t think it HAS to be linked – but that is the popular culture influence. As we all know, the influence/pressure to look a certain way is all around us – increasingly for men too. The more any one of us internalises those messages, the more we’re trying to fit with that norm, whether we realise it or not. For older women, for example, one of the questions is whether to colour your hair or not. As I explain in the book, I coloured mine for a decade without really questioning it – I just assumed I had to, in order to stay visible and/or be taken seriously.

Sarah Dale has written a book, Bolder and Wiser, about what it’s like for women in the 21st Century to turn fifty. I was particularly interested in how women are represented in the media and popular culture, so took the opportunity to ask her about it. Sarah, first of all tell me about yourself.

“I grew up in Colchester and came to Nottingham University to study psychology. I was inspired to come to Nottingham in the first place by seeing Goose Fair on Blue Peter when I was about eight. After university, I trained as a chartered accountant in the Nottingham office of Price Waterhouse Cooper. After a few years I went back to university to do a masters in occupational psychology. The twenty years since then has been spent working as a psychologist, with my own business for most of that time, and raising two children (now 18 and 16). I’ve never left Nottingham, and lived in Beeston since 2001. It’s a great location, and I feel lucky to be part of a great network of friends and community which I’ve built up over a long time.” What made you write your book?

“I am especially interested in how people make sense of their work and contribution, and those issues that affect well-being and mental health, particularly in relation to work. I am also coming up to fifty (in the autumn) and in recent years, have been increasingly interested in the ageing factor thrown into the mix too – especially for women (because I am one) and have a sense that my best working years might still be yet to come – or – more scarily – might be thrown off course by caring and other responsibilities and life events.” How do you feel women over the age of fifty are represented in popular culture and the media?

“The fifty-plus woman is often absent from popular culture and the media, or her age is often mentioned as one of the major factors (in ways such as “doesn’t she look great for her age?” or “she’s let herself go a bit” etc.). Men tend to become more distinguished (the Dimblebies, John Humphries, David Attenborough, the Pythons etc.) whereas many women are no longer present, or are seen as exceptional or eccentric contributors. Their expertise is often clouded by sometimes vicious discussion of their appearance (e.g. Mary Beard, Hillary Clinton). There are exceptions of course (Judi Dench, Helen Mirren etc.) – but their appearance is still a major discussion point in the media, whatever else they’ve been doing. This is much less likely to be an issue with established media figures who are men.”

“The message I got from the women I interviewed was that the more they understood and embraced their own interests, personalities, priorities and lifestyle, the more comfortable they were with their age and appearance, and the less this got in the way of being able to contribute to the world in whatever way they do. In other words, it seems to be about resisting a popular culture norm - which is not the same thing as saying they don’t care what people think, or opting out altogether from caring about their appearance. It’s about developing an awareness that allows you to choose whether to colour your hair or not, for example, rather than be slavishly driven by assumptions around us that we internalise.

“What and who we pay attention to is often an unconscious decision and I think we can gain a lot from attempting to be more conscious of what we’re doing.”

“Many of the women had developed an inner confidence, which came from taking risks, and continuing to learn and develop over a lifetime. From the conversations, this seemed to lead to a more grounded acceptance of themselves rather than an increasingly fraught sense of trying to hold back time. When the women I spoke to had done this, it came across as hugely liberating – enabling them to do all sorts of projects, work and adventures.” It’s safe to say that society as a whole objectifies and pigeon-holes women and you argue that this increases as women get older. What should we as members of society be doing to help? Specifically, what should men be doing? “Interesting! As individuals, I think we probably all need to nurture a willingness to look beyond the superficial appearance of people, and to challenge that kind of casual prejudice, whether towards older women or any other demographic group. What and who we pay attention to is often an unconscious decision and I think we can gain a lot from attempting to be more conscious of what we’re doing.

“So, for example, it’s not unusual for women to report that they are talked over, or not listened to, when they try to contribute to a predominately male meeting. From what I have heard, this is even more likely to happen once that woman is not young and/or conventionally attractive. So, I think what we can all do is to listen more, and listen more carefully – to whoever is trying to make a point whether that person is young, old, male or female. It might be about making a conscious effort to notice the minority groups or people in day to day situations we find ourselves in, and to challenge our own assumptions and reactions to certain groups or people. >> Cont. pg 5

teaching you give back.”

Kime strength

It wasn’t until ten years ago, after teaching in Arnold and Bilborough, that Aidan got the opportunity to have his very own club, the Dojo on Humber Road. “This was the ultimate result of all that teaching,” he says looking around his office. “I wanted a place that would cater for everyone. From five year olds, teenagers, right the way up.” I have to admit that by this point I’m taken aback. You see I’ve seen the same sorts of films as well and I always had the impression of Karate being a small world. One of athletes, professionals, not something Granddad and Grandson would do together of a Friday evening. But I could not be more wrong.

Image: Aidan Trimble

“Aidan and the Dojo have won numerous awards and had more compliments thrown at them than you can imagine.”

t’s too cold for me out here. Rain is spitting down on my head, it’s 4PM and already getting dark, there’s a heavy wind trying its best to floor me. Old Man Winter’s really taking the mickey. Where’s the mickey? Old Man Winter’s got it. But finally the door opens. Aidan greets me, directs me past an impressively decorated lounge area to his office and we sit down. I shake away the wind, the rain, and take comfort in the warmth. Lessons haven’t yet begun for the evening and he’s in normal clothing. Which is to say, he’s wearing what you’d wear going to the shops, as opposed to what he will be wearing later; flawless white karate uniform. “I started karate in 1972. It was the Kung-Fu craze in Britain. Everybody was mad on it at that time.” Aidan remembers watching the likes of Bruce Lee in films and being instantly hooked. I fancy I can still see the kid in him. His otherwise wide, enthusiastic eyes glance up, squinting as he remembers. “It was a craze at the time, but as most people fell off I continued with it. Although, it was catered mostly for adults and I

was 11 so it was difficult to get a club.” Perseverance paid off though, and by 1979 he had won his first individual title, and the year before that, aged 17, he was part of the team that won the European Championships in Germany. From then he was a regular member of the England team. “I travelled around Europe and the world, fighting for England.” Aidan’s big opportunity came in 1983 when he won the World Karate Title in Tokyo, and it was alongside successes such as this that made Aidan start branching out. Pretty soon he was appearing on television. “Martial arts has always been linked to entertainment. My influence was Bruce Lee. Before that it was James Bond films, so it was no surprise that I ended up wanting to do that.” Aidan acted in various soaps, and was also involved in fight choreography. “I enjoyed it and really got into it. I would have continued but other things took over.” Like teaching for example? “I was teaching from when I was a brown belt. It’s an integral part of Karate. By

“One of my black belts is 70 years old. I’ve always wanted to give karate to everyone, not just sportsmen or competitors. That was the idea behind creating the Dojo.” Aidan tells me all of this with a content smile on his face and I can see that it is here where he is happy; teaching people of all ages and abilities. And it’s that happiness that is translating into a world-class Dojo. Aidan and the Dojo have won numerous awards and had more compliments thrown at them than you can imagine. “I’ve had instructors come here and say that it’s one of the best they’ve seen. Arnold Schwarzenegger’s instructor came in to do some photo shoots and he said this was one of the best he’d seen.” Clearly, this is a place that Aidan and his team are proud of, and I have to agree. They should be proud. The atmosphere here is one of warmth and welcome, the accolades aren’t countable on just one pair of hands, and Aidan himself is by far one of the nicest men I’ve had the pleasure to meet; enthusiastic about his craft, keen to encourage, and skilled beyond measure. It appears there’s always room at the Dojo, always a space for a first-timer, or a pro looking to do a course or move up a belt. I can’t imagine a much better way to beat the winter blues, than by beating something up. Take that, Old Man Winter, right in your stupid, wrinkled face. CF

Bow selecta

The top table... Winter is still with us, so who better than two of Beeston’s biggest foodie professionals to share their own recipe ideas to keep the wolf from the door. One meatastic; one vegtacular.

HE meat man, Johnny Pustzai, who runs stuff at award-winning butchers, Bedeham’s and *that* BBQ/hogroast, shares his recipe for a meal you might already have everything for RIGHT NOW so no need to leave the warmth of your home... so good it needs no name! All you’ll need:

t some point, in a mythical distant future people will be able to travel around Beeston quickly, and possibly without swearing. It will no longer be a sure-fire conversation-piece to say “It took me 45 minutes to get from the traffic lights by the Co-op on Queens Road to the roundabout by the University” – and not because the roundabout is no longer there, replaced by an exciting new way to hold up traffic either, but because everything will have been finished. Done, dusted and working swimmingly. Smiling folks will zip about, their shiny cars reflecting the warm sunlight whilst bopping gently in their seats to Katrina and the Waves. It’ll be utterly perfect. Honest. Now I know what you’re thinking (even the swear words, yes) but it’s at the very least a possibility. I may be being hopelessly optimistic, or at the very least terribly sleep-deprived (I know books and anyone who’s ever been near an infant warned me but it turns out newborns don’t ‘do’ sleep the same way normal-sized people do) but the disruption we’re experiencing is nothing to the vast swathe of man (and woman) hours at present frittered away in angrily static queues all over Beeston (and when the traffic lights fail too backing up into Long Eaton). But the weird thing is, I’m getting used to it, and I bet you are too. So what will this fantastical future be like for us as we happily speed, either on a gleaming tram, in our wind-powered electric cars or by silver jet-pack past the unicorns grazing quietly under the rainbows on University Park? Suddenly it’ll be like the Good Old Days when it took ten minutes to get into town. Think of all the time saved… we could write the first great novel of the 21st century, do an OU course in town planning (just in case) or even go shopping (if any shops are left open after it’s all finished). We’ll have more time because there’ll be no disruptions. It’ll be like having our very own HS2 all around Beeston. How exciting, what larks! The subject of the HS2 came up in a very interesting debate I went to a few days ago in town. In April NOTTS TV is launching on Freeview Channel 8 as Nottingham is one of just a handful of cities awarded a 12-year initial broadcasting license, so soon we’ll have a dedicated local TV channel producing original programming including documentaries and drama as well as reporting in-depth on local issues. The event I attended (and not in Robin Hood kit for once) was a trial run of their ‘Question Time’ style ‘Channel 8 Debate’ hosted by the BBC’s Frances Finn with (amongst others) MPs Ken Clarke and Lilian Greenwood, and it was fascinating. The HS2 issue came up and (as there appears to be a major-party consensus on the issue) was given (along with all of the engineering works city-wide) a big thumbs up. Which was quite disappointing, considering the amount of trauma, heartache and business closures they’re causing around here. So here’s my suggestion. If you do get a bit more time when (if?) Tramaggedon subsides, then spend it locally; putting pressure on our politicians via Notts TV, the Post or even The Beestonian itself to get things right. Because the rise of very specific local media is becoming a force to be reckoned with, and changes and issues can be forced into the spotlight. It’s happening already, and you might as well start thinking about what to say now. You’ll have plenty of time in those queues... TP

500g sausages 1 onion, diced 500ml chicken stock 1 tsp. mixed herbs Chillies, chopped (optional) 4tbsp. of oil (rapeseed has a higher burn-point and produced in the UK) 500g of waxy potatoes (feel free to add any vegetables - fresh or cooked - you have left-over too!) Heat the oven to 190c / Gas Mark 6. Fry the onion in a deep, ovenproof pan. Add the sausages, fry until brown and cooked through, then remove and chop into bite-size pieces. Drop them back into the pan and add the stock (it’s a good idea to save any left-over gravy from your Sunday roast, you can freeze it and use it in dishes like this, here). Add the herbs, and a couple of chopped chillies will warm your mouth as much as your stomach - add them too. Slice the potatos pound-coin thick and add to the pan. Stick a lid on top and put in the oven for 45 mins. By this time, the stock should have reduced into a rich gravy. Serve with rice or pasta, or my favourite: soak a chunk of bread in olive oil and put in the oven next to the stew for the last ten minutes of cooking, for an indulgent treat to mop up with. JP

t’s Persian New Year soon (21 March, so Beeston’s Best Restauranteur* (*Trip Advisor) Roya of CAFĒ ROYA, gives us the recipe for a special stew. Trust me, it’s utterly meat-free gorgeous.

Khoresht-E Qormeh Sabzi (serves four) 400g red kidney beans 1 large bunch flat-leaf parsley 1 large bunch coriander 1 large bunch chopped chives 250g fresh spinach 1 large potato, cut into square centimetre cubes 1 large onion, finely chopped 3 garlic cloves, finely chopped 1 tsp. turmeric 2 vegetable stock cubes 1 ½ tbsp. dried fenugreek 2 dried limes (available in Persian shops) Salt and pepper Oil Wash the herbs and spinach. Shake dry, remove all stalks and chop all leaves… best to put some music on whilst plucking! Heat 4 tbsp. oil in a large pan. Add chopped herbs and spinach and fry for 20 -30 mins over a low heat, stirring occasionally. Do not add any liquid. Take care not to blacken the herbs. Set aside. Heat 1 tbsp. oil in a pan and fry the onion until golden, add the garlic and fry for a further 2 mins. Add the turmeric and stir once. Add the onion mixture to the pan with the sautéed herbs with 1 litre boiling water – you can always add more later if needed. Add the cubed potato, drained kidney beans and crumble in the stock cubes. Make a hole in the dried limes and add to the stew. Simmer gently for one hour and season to taste before serving. (I like to add a little sugar and curry powder for extra flavour!) Garnish the stew with kashk, dried mint or garlic or onions fried till crispy brown, verjus and/or rose petals. Serve with rice, salad, raita and flat-bread. R

>> Contd. from pg 3

You’ve said these pressures aren’t limited to women, but are increasingly being taken up by men as well. Do you have any idea why this is the case; why, as a society, we are more and more obsessed by youth and beauty as opposed to intelligence, skill, ability and so on?

“I guess we’re all trying to work that one out! My pennyworth is that I think it is entirely natural to want to belong and be part of a group – it’s a survival instinct for humans really. Teenagers especially have a strong urge to do whatever it takes to be accepted by their peer group and I think is a developmental stage of life as they become adults, but nearly all people feel it to some degree. Our appearance is one aspect that we can use to be accepted and to show our alliance to particular groups and in moderation it’s probably not a problem. I think that nowadays the internet, social media, camera technology etc. allow us to compare ourselves and each other with HUGE numbers of people – and we have the leisure time to do that incessantly too – so it seems to me that the emphasis has got really out of kilter with other the other qualities that you mention. It’s an easy thing for the media to focus on too which further fuels the collective obsession and harsh judgements. There are of course massive financial drivers behind this too, to sell advertising, beauty treatments etc. Men are a market just as much as women and I think in recent years companies have been targeting them more than they used to. Did you leave your interviews as a whole optimistic or pessimistic about ageing? Do we have a long way to go before women are treated with the respect and fairness they deserve?

“The interviews left me optimistic in a fairly realistic way. Ageing is not easy for anyone but the women I interviewed are paving the way for my generation and had a lot of encouraging things to say about getting out of our comfort zone and recovering from setbacks, and about recognising the very many benefits of longer experience and perspective. I think we’ve all got to keep at it to bring about equality of all sorts, gender or otherwise. CF There’s no room for complacency!” • Bolder and Wiser (Creative Focus) is on sale through Amazon (Kindle or paperback) and all good bookshops. The official launch is Sunday, 2 March, 2.30 pm at the Malt Cross, Nottingham. Special guest: award-winning director Sue Bourne. Online: creatingfocus.org @CreatingFocus

CODEWORD

HORACE’S HALF HOUR MORE BRAIN-PICKING ANTICS FROM OUR OL’ QUIZMASTER, HORACE. DON’T TAKE HIM HOME, THOUGH – YOUR MUM WOULDN’T LIKE HIM. 1) Which British cyclist is known as the Manx Missile? 2) What are the colours on the national flag of Canada? 3) Who were the Americans fighting at the Battle of the Alamo? 4) What is the name of the parrot in Treasure Island? 5) What is the main gas found in marsh gas? 6) What type of animal is a fennec?

7) According to the song, what must you wear in your hair if you’re going to San Francisco? 8) Wormwood regularly receives letters from his uncle, but what is his uncle’s name? 9) Who is the host on TV’s Only Connect show? 10) In what year was VAT introduced in the UK? 11) In Greek mythology, what did the god Uranus personify: seas, earth or sky?

1. MARK CAVENDISH 2. RED & WHITE 3. MEXICANS 4. CAPTAIN FLINT 5. METHANE 6. FOX 7. FLOWERS 8. SCREWTAPE 9. VICTORIA COREN 10. 1973 11. SKY

“Also, men are often quite good at championing each other, in terms of raising each other’s profiles. So perhaps one of the things we could all think about is how we champion women doing good work or making good progress in whatever our own field is?

WIN!!! Contact us (see back page for how) with the winning codeword to enter a draw to win a Win a pair of tickets for a night out at Just The Tonic, Nottingham’s Original Comedy Club. (closing date: 28 February)

By Christian Fox

his consent. The parties have since become reconciled.” By this time Wallett’s career had begun to take shape and he had become a circus and stage entertainer with a speciality as a clown. But he was no ordinary clown. Wallett based his act on that of the traditional fool, a satirist who was able to transcend the norms of convention. To this end, he adopted the costume of the jester, rather than the usual baggy trousers and makeup of the clown. But he also continued to appear in stage productions and theatrical reviews and in the circus as an equestrian (bareback rider) as well as a clown.

Local historian, Jimmy Notts, sheds light on another piece of local legend.

any people will be familiar with the idea of the medieval ‘court jester’ or ‘fool’ in ‘cap and bells’, men like Rehere, court jester to Henry I (r. 1100 – 1135). However, it might be surprising to know that English monarchs retained the role of court jester long after the medieval period. Perhaps the most famous of these was William (‘Will’) Sommers, court jester to Henry VIII (r. 1509 – 1547); Jeffrey Hudson and Muckle John, court jesters to Charles I (r. 1625 – 1649). Jesters were entertainers, skilled in the arts of music, juggling and clowning. The days of the court jester came to an end with Oliver Cromwell and the Commonwealth; Charles II did not reinstate the role of court jester/fool. But we should add one more name to this illustrious list of famous fools and Royal Jester, that of William Wallett. Although William Fredrick Wallet was born in Hull, probably in June or July 1813, it is Beeston which claims him as its ‘adopted son’. Wallett was an internationally famous stage and circus performer. He was the eldest son of John and Margaret Wallett who went on to have seven children. Both parents lived into their eighties, long enough to witness and be proud of the success of their eldest son. In fact, on the census of 1871, his mother Margaret, by then a widow, listed herself “Queen Victoria’s jester’s mother”. Wallett is described as being athletically built, tall and handsome. He was intelligent and extremely quick-witted. All of these natural attributes he was to use to great effect in taking him to the top of his career in the ‘performing arts’. However, even the best has to start at the bottom of the ladder and Wallett began his working life as a scenery painter, odd job man and ‘jobbing-actor’ before his talents were recognised. In 183, at the age of 26, Wallett married Mary Orme in Lincoln. According to the Nottingham Review of April 26, 1839, the marriage was an elopement. Mary’s father, a Hull publican, pursued his daughter to the wedding venue and the journal states; “Shortly after the completion of the ceremony, the happy pair experienced an unwelcome interview with the father of the bride, accompanied by a constable, whose object was to take home, by physical force, the lady, who had left her father’s house without

In 1844 Wallett was performing his clown routine as a part of the famous Van Amburgh Company. On July 19, the Company put on a royal performance at Windsor Castle in front of Queen Victoria and Albert, the Prince Consort and a number of other worthies of the day. The show was apparently well received and in the following publicity, Wallett declared himself to be ‘The Queen’s Jester’. The Queen must have been ‘amused’, because although she did not officially sanction the title, he was not carried off to the Tower in royal disgrace. ????????????????

Dead funny

Wallett’s ambition combined with his talent and flexibility as a performer meant that he became a great success. Traveling widely throughout the world and in particular the United States, his wit and humour turned him into an international star. However, success came at a great cost to his 22 year marriage. Mary was left alone for long periods of time while he was ‘on tour’. When she died at the age of 40 in June 1861, Wallett was performing his equestrian act, probably in America. We do not know if Mary’s early death was sudden or the result of a long illness, but the census return of 1861 shows that Wallett was alone at a lodging in Manchester in April of that year. Records show that the couple had at least two children who did not survive infancy.

Wallett, now the self-proclaimed Royal Jester, is said to have employed only two kinds of promotional posters, a stock of which he kept in the cellar of his house. The first poster, used prior to the engagement simply read; ‘Wallett is coming’ and the second ‘Wallett is here’.

In March 1862, a year after the death of Mary, Wallett married Sarah Tutin Farmer, the daughter of John Farmer, a Nottingham business man and entrepreneur. At the time of the wedding, Farmer is recorded as a publican with a ‘house’ on Market Street. In reality, together with his three sons, one of whom kept the Clarendon Hotel, he controlled a powerful empire which dominated the Nottingham business and social scene. The Farmer family controlled most aspects of musical entertainment in the town for over 100 years. John Farmer would have been no stranger to Wallett, who had visited Nottingham many times in the early years of his career, appearing at the music halls and glee clubs that constituted the popular entertainment of the time. The marriage was another extraordinary boost to Wallett’s already successful career, but whether it entirely had the approval of Sarah’s father is uncertain. This is borne-out by the fact that the chosen venue was the groom’s home town of Hull. It was popular convention at the time for a bride to marry in her own parish. Whatever the true circumstances of the wedding the couple chose to live in Beeston, Nottinghamshire. They moved into ‘Spring Villa’ one of a pair of houses, which stood on the corner of Queens Road and Station Road. By 1879, Wallett and Sarah had two children and the family moved to a new house he had had built on adjacent land. This property is now 220, Station Road (corner of Grove Street), where a Blue Plaque declares it to be the home of: “William Fredrick Wallett (The Queen’s Jester), 1813 – 1892, International circus and stage entertainer, Moved to Beeston in 1862, Lived here from 1879” William Wallett became the toast of the town; entertaining the ‘great and the good’ at his Beeston home. Various census returns for the address demonstrate how diverse Wallett’s career had become. In the 1871 census he lists himself as simply “comedian”, in 1881 as “Professor of elocution” and in 1891 “actor and lecturer”. Ever the performer, Wallett continued to entertain almost to his death in March 1892. He is buried in Nottingham General Cemetery. JN

Turrell vision I

nterviewing twins is always rather odd. One of my first ever journalism jobs was interviewing a brace of genetically identical long-distance runners. Rather than interviewing two individuals, sentences would be started by one and finished by the other, often with charming overlap. It’s an enjoyably weird experience, provided you remember not to ask “and how did you meet?” You might have seen John and Tom, aka the Turrell Brothers, around Beeston. A pair of strikingly cheek-boned tall, near-identical chaps, they are hard to miss. It’s likely they’ll be carrying a camera or some other bit of film equipment, or directing a cast as part of one of their films. Last year, we got them down the Beestonian Film Club at Café Roya, showing a retrospective of their diverse body of work, the sheer imagination, invention and professionalism of which saw jaws drop throughout. How did they get started? “We were given a camera by one of my mum’s friend: a VHS security camera. We were ten at the time, and the camera didn’t have its own power so had to be plugged in. So every film we made with it had to be filmed in the living room, on black and white video. You tend to exhaust all possibilities rather quickly.” Yet the bug had bitten, and they began to save their pocket money until, aged 12, they could afford to spend £200 on a Samsung camera “We’d make pastiches. James Bond ripoffs, stop motion animation, anything that came into our heads. We had no editing kit, so we’d do things in one take. We could easily turn out five shorts in one week. Our mum indulged and supported us; she’s been great at keeping us going.”

Filming became an obsession, and not just at home. John filmed a ‘“pretty dire” short called Ghost From The Past for a GCSE art project, which led their art teacher to show it on the big screen – Broadway Cinema was looking for locally made shorts at the time. Suddenly, work which had been viewed by just a few friends on the small screen was beamed up to cinema-scale. This proved a pivotal moment: the brothers realised that this could be a vocation, not just a hobby. They plunged heartily into the local film-making community, learning the ‘filmic grammar’, techniques and tips. Their confidence built, their films improving and refining, “We were only 17, much younger than most other filmmakers. I think they viewed us as precocious little shits at the time, but we eventually started getting funding from EM Media (the same funding body that spurred-on Shane Meadow’s career), and that gets you a degree of respect.” They haven’t stopped since, crafting a massive, diverse and stunning body of work. How does the creative process work for them? Is it easy being twins when working? “It’s a mixed blessing: we share

things 50/50 creatively. Its aggressive collaboration: you can’t be anything other than absolutely honest with each other. But it’s uncanny how much we do agree on, how similar we view things. It’s very much a symbiotic relationship.” No thoughts on solo-projects, then? The brothers shoot each other a comic double take, and simultaneously mouth ‘no’. They love to film ‘round here as well – using Attenborough Nature Reserve, local allotments, the privet-hedged fringes of town. The whole town and its environs are one giant film set, “We are pretty much besotted with Beeston…its subtleties, its sort of British-Americana, that sense of the fringe, town-meeting-country; industry-meeting-nature. Shane Meadows has a similar eye; it’s very much a fascinating area to film.” Watching their films does give you a jolt: you suddenly see characters interacting in a familiar, yet different environment. Streets you might walk down daily suddenly take on their own drama. The films themselves are wildly diverse: music videos for The Madeline Rust, first-person horror; and perhaps my favourite style – which I struggle to describe. Take their latest work, a feature called Tummy Bug. They showed an unfinished cut of this at the Beestonian Film Club, and I can only describe it as Kitchen Sink Freudian Science Fiction epic. Yes, really. “Sort of Hollyoaks meets Alien, isn’t it? We call it eccentric realism. We do have a cynical, leftfield eye, and I suppose an obsession with surreal Czech animation when we were just kids has rubbed off’.”

“ We had some closure on our earlier career when we showed at The Beestonian Film Club... a new chapter has begun.”

The future? Will we be seeing BAFTAs brought back to Beeston anytime soon? “We’re taking stock right now, going over our past and working out what to do next. We need funding for some projects, which takes time to source. We had some closure on our earlier career when we showed at The Beestonian Film Club; it feels like a new chapter has begun.” We have in our midst, two staggeringly talented filmmakers; a pair of quiet, mild-mannered men who have a rich, dark imagination within that belies there calm exteriors. There is a curious history of film-making siblings: the Wachoskis, the Farelleys, and the genius that is the Coens. I’m confident that one day the Turrells will be added to this pantheon. LB

Tram sagas D

uring the Dark Ages the peoples of several Scandinavian countries first raided, and later settled in almost all of the northern and eastern parts of England – a vigorous and violent migration which lasted about 270 years, and which would have appalled Ukip and the Daily Mail now, as it probably appalled the Saxons then. We called these peoples ‘Danes’ in that same lazy way that we call people ‘East-Europeans’ now – and the land that they took from the British and Saxons was known as the Danelaw. It included the whole of Nottinghamshire. Most of their culture has now long been absorbed and is mainly indistinguishable from all the others; forgotten, except for their mythology – which regularly reappears in the marvellously comic film outings of Thor and his God-pals. More happily, in modern times the most significant

Danish invasion has been via ‘Scandinavian Noir’; the blackly-shot Forbrydlesen (‘The Killing’) – enlivened, in my opinion, only by THOSE woolly Fair Isle sweaters; the odd-couple grim humour of The Bridge and the political whirligiggery of Borgen being the best known. Violent upheaval, economic migration, dark times, and a dose of bleak humour to get us through them – we’re talking Beeston 2014, right? Another invasion, this time by ‘the Tram’, has brought similarities with those dark days – a time of stress and fear; when no one is safe to walk the streets of Beeston freely due to the risk of becoming lost in the bewildering forest of barriers guarding the Beast’s lair – or worse: finding no footpath at all (especially as one approaches Midgard – I mean Middle Street) in search of a way into the vast hall that is Tesco’s. It’s reminiscent of a time when, in Norse

A new sign at The Vic

mythology, a poisonous serpent completely encircled the entire earth, consuming its own tail in its mouth to keep it so fixed and unyielding that even Thor could not move it. Our modern day serpent is the endless and equally unmoving traffic congestion. It too snakes around each street and back again, as frustrated drivers try in vain to find a way out of Beeston, invariably ending up stuck in a huge queue, their exhaust fumes seeping poisons into the air. As local businesses suffer, trying to keep afloat and cope with today’s dawn-to-dusk existence, some tire of the effort and eventually flee from the devastation. We talk of economic migration to us in the UK and some fear it, without much thought, but there is also another type of migration: leaving us. And it is something we should fear more. People are shutting-up shop; literally. I don’t care about ‘the Tram’. It may be good for Beeston, it may not. All I know is it’s been going on too long – like the Dark Ages – and I would like to see it over and done with, to see a little civilisation come back to our town. The Twilight of the Gods in the Norse Mythology was called ‘Ragnorak’, the German word for the same is ‘Gotterdammerung’, for Beeston it’s Gotta-be-thetram-erung. ST

“Violent upheaval, economic migration, dark times – we’re talking Beeston 2014, right?”

flying goose café

33 Chilwell Road, Beeston, Nottingham NG9 1EH 0115 9252323 Open 10 ‘til 4 Tues to Fri / 9 ‘til 4 Sat ▪ freshly prepared food ▪ good coffee ▪ relaxed atmosphere A café with an emphasis on Vegetarian, Vegan, Fair Trade & Organic food, freshly prepared to order. “BEST WELSH RAREBIT IN TOWN!” Lovely homemade cakes and scones. New wines and beer list for Autumn. We would love you forever if you support us whilst the tram is being built as we shall remain open throughout this time.

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AU CONTRAIRE... Nora and Tamar poke each other in the eye* over another subject they find they don’t quite agree on. And all for your delectation. This time it’s: BOOKS. *But don’t worry; they always skip off into the sunset, arm in arm, in the end.

Against: Nora

he relationship I have with books is a lot like the general outlook on marriage these days – doomed to fail. I won’t even try to pretend I ever liked reading because I guess I’m just a lazy person. Too lazy to lie, too lazy to use my imagination, it makes sense to me.

For: Tamar

he idea of someone not liking books is so depressing to me. But especially so when they express such a thing *in writing*. There’s no bigger cock than those cocky writers who proudly reveal that they haven’t read a book (usually specifically “contemporary fiction”) since the year they left Oxford/Eton/off their mother’s boob, but expect folk to Victor Hugo’s Les Miserables is a major contributor to my feelings on the read theirs. subject and the main protagonist in what can only be described as book I admit we all have dry spells – I’m currently trying to get back my reading themed night terrors where I am crushed to death by the likes of Hugo’s mojo again after struggling to find something to get my teeth into. If masterpiece and lesser known classics such as Slapper & Kelly’s 20th edition something doesn’t work after thirty pages, I tend to put it out of its misery. of The English Legal System. One badly printed book (whole paragraphs missing and a change of font I think back to better days – secondary school was my personal golden every page) once knocked me off kilter for months. But the idea of not age of books. I had grasped this new language and was keen to win every being arsed enough to pick up a book, read the back, judge it on its cover a reading certificate the librarian, a female Ozzy Osborne protégé, spent bit and then start reading until it’s done, sounds like a kind of madness. her lengthy days producing. For five years I vowed that Fozzy, as I had To my mind, the alternative to reading ‘the book’ before seeing ‘the film’ renamed her, would not spend a is basically to be influenced permanently by some (usually) Hollywood single minute looking at Microsoft interpretation of what the writer intended. Let’s face it, Hollywood has Word fonts in vain, for I, the strange, never been that big on words, or caring much for its writers... so it’s slightly gothic, foreign kid would read unlikely to end in an improvement on the original, surely to goodness. all of the books and have all of the Saying that, I can sort of understand anyone who slaved over Chaucer certificates. These were the days, lack or Shakespeare or Dickens at school thinking reading even Harry Potter of responsibility, ambition and Point (actually quite Big Books) was too much like hard work, but there is a Horror books as far as the eye could whole grey area between mighty literary tomes and the duff scribblings see. of Katie Price (‘author’ of five or so fiction books - not including the ones about herself - who doesn’t read books; not even her own). People who don’t College was where it all began to read books - that’s the Katie Prices, Victoria Beckhams and Noel Gallaghers fall apart. I slaved over poetry and of the world (erm, I fink I see a pattern...) genuinely don’t know what Chaucer much like I imagine the they’re missing. However, I know of people in my parents’ generation who pharaohs made mere peasants slave cannot read and write at all (nationally, it’s 1%), and there are around 1.7 over pyramids. I was introduced to a new type of horror – Mills and Boon novels, undoing years of feminism for million adults in the UK who are ‘functionally illiterate’ (having a reading the sake of lonely, flea-ridden cat ladies. But even through all the hardship ability below that expected of an 11 year old). I honestly don’t know how those who can’t read get through life. So if you can read, but don’t – count I still found time for Anthony Levi’s pleasant ramblings regarding French yourself lucky, duffer. That said, if you catch yourself reading something history and the occasional Jodi Picoult book. you don’t enjoy (including this!), stop reading it and try something else. My warm feelings towards books and reading in general quickly froze Bad books are bad books. They don’t mean books are bad. when I started university. Nothing quite makes you hate being able to see If I’m introduced to someone I’ve not met before I might, in conversation, like having to read three dissenting judgements a day, each roughly around wheel-out the ol’ “read anything good recently?”. No answer to an innocent forty pages long, and written in 1932. The only book I could bring myself question provokes more of an ABORT! ABORT! response in me than to finish in those four years was Sylvia Plath’s The Bell Jar and even that “Oh, I never read books” (well, except maybe “Tory”- but I don’t tend to took me a good three months to do. I also suspect that, subconsciously, I go there on first meet). I’ve heard people refer to someone as “bookish” only finished the book to ensure that were I to ever try and kill myself, I and subsequently realise they mean it in a bad way. That’s just so... dumb. don’t fail the same way Plath’s protagonist did. Even now, six months after I fell for someone for whom books were kind of... life, really - and a life graduating, the thought of having to read anything over three pages fills without the written word to read would be a dull, ephemeral life indeed. me with hatred. I spend half of my free time watching the likes of Game of History would lie without books; people would make shit up and all kinds Thrones and the Hunger Games films because I just don’t want to read the of cleverness would be lost along the way. There are always new stories. books. The other half of my free time is spent extorting the ending from As John Waters once said, “if you got home with someone, and they don’t those who have bothered to read the books because, as well as being lazy, I have books, don’t fuck ‘em”. TF am also impatient. ND

“I won’t even try to pretend I ever liked reading because I guess I’m just a lazy person.”

s t a e B n o t Bees customers “You’ve got more chance of bumping into the Pope in Woolworths with his cock out”).

You may have heard that business is booming in Beeston (really?). So in my return to a split personality of agonyaunt-Vs-local-muso, I am going to handle some of our readers’ music and retailbased woes. What could possibly go wrong...? *[Erm, see photo above/left... ? - Ed.] Dear Jimmy, I run a small emporium of the bizarre in Beeston. Despite rumours of booming business, I am noticing a disturbing phenomenon amongst punters. They come in browse my wares, take up my time, show some vague interest in an item and then leave asking what time I close? What am I doing wrong? – R Bendigo JW: It would seem to me that perhaps you aren’t doing anything wrong, unless your emporium is selling really bizarre things, I once saw a secondhand vibrator in a shop in Greenwich. You have fallen for the time-waster’s ultimate line. There is a type of customer who, for reasons I cannot fathom, choose to spend their time wasting the time of others. Think of it like retail therapy without completing the transaction. Other classics include “I’ve left my wallet in the car, back in a minute”. Let’s examine this one. It’s not very likely is it? You went shopping and left your wallet in your car. Fuck me. I bet you don’t tell the missus you left the kids in the supermarket. Thing is, most of these excuses for this deviant behaviour are so see-through it’s untrue. File it away with other classics such as “I’ll be back in on Friday for that” (to quote one of my actual

Maybe they should just come in and state their intention? No, that would ruin the sexual thrill they get out of the act. Best bet, eventually they will want to buy something. It does happen, it DOES often take years to occur. Take their money and tell them you will deliver the goods on Friday… Hi Jimmy, I bought an ice cream with a Flake in it earlier today, and, well, I just can’t get my head round it. Do you use the Flake as a scoop, eat it separately, drill it in to the core of the cornet and eat it altogether or what? – Jay Z, (California, and Chilwell) P.S. I need absolutely no help with my pet dog. She’s fine. JW: So you have 99 problems but a bitch ain’t one? Go away. Jimmy! I’m having some problems ey? I don’t want to tell you who I am, because I’m pretty shy. I just can’t stop getting things wrong. So I locked myself out of my bathroom just before getting on stage and had to pee into this bin, and some grumpy guss filmed it and put it on the internet. Then I was eating a pretzel on a balcony and some got stuck in my throat and I had to spit it out and a hundred fans happened to be right below me. Then I was driving to an orphanage to deliver food and I got stuck and had to drive around really fast because someone told me a bomb was on board that would go off if I went below 100MPH and left this one stretch of road! Then my limo driver tripped and fell into my fist... I just don’t know what to do! No one beliebs me! Help! – Anon JW: Buy a guitar, take it into a corner and bludgeon yourself to death with it. Problem solved.

Hi Jim, Should I stay, or should I go? If I go there will be trouble, if I stay there will be double. So you got to let me know, should I stay or should I go? – J Strummer JW: By your reckoning, ‘going’ is half the trouble of ‘staying’. So go. Now. Just go. Hi Jimmy, I’ve been holding out for a hero for ages now, I really need one tonight. Help. – B. Tyler (Rylands) JW: Sorry duck, all out meself. Got a Quality Street if you fancy that instead, though? Hi Jimbo, Why don’t we do it in the road? – J Lennon and P McCartney (Liverpool/ Long Eaton) JW: Have you seen the friggin’ tram works out there? Dear Jimmy, My husband divorced me, and no matter how many songs I write with thinly-veiled references to how much I hate him, I just can’t stop thinking about his sexy drug-addled body, his completely founded messiah complex, and his wonderfully old-fashioned sexism. How do I get over him and move on with my life, professionally? – Katy P, everywhere JW: Dear Katy, watch one of his films. You’re welcome.

Jimmy can be found selling all things guitar, and teaching Blues guitar, at The Guitar Spot,Chilwell Road, Beeston (and either The Crown or The Hop Pole of an evening. theboozeworldofjimmywiggins. blogspot.co.uk

Famous last words…

The Beestonian is…

Facebook us, Tweet us, email us or even scribble us a proper, handwritten letter (we love those the most). We’ll publish it here, usually unedited, for all to see…

Editor / lead writer / founder – Lord Beestonia

Dear Beestonian, Happy New Year and all that lot!

Assistant editor / print design – Tamar

It was a funny old Christmas in Beestonia. Kind of low-key in one way but lively in another. There seemed to be lots of people out and about doing stuff – especially for the lights switch on. My word, it were like Goose Fair on a Saturday night. Only safer feeling.

Top-notch scribes this issue: Nora, Tamar, Jimmy, Chris Fox, Jimmy Notts, Tim Pollard and Simon Thompson.

Also, by some marvellous fluke I got through Christmas without once hearing Merry Christmas Everyone by Slade. Yay! On the subject of which, I heard the residents of Lower Road and Fletcher Road had a preChristmas mulled wine and mince pie with the tram construction people. It is rumoured that the residents sang a re-worded protest version of the Slade song at the get-together (Beeston is musictown folks!). Respect to them. I don’t know why but it made me think of the Christmas football match that took place in No-Man’s Land in World War 1.

Printed by Pixels & Graphics, Beeston. Huge thanks to all of our contributors, sponsors, stockists, regular readers and anyone who has picked this up for the first time and vows to again.

To be fair, the tram people are having a go at getting us involved. I wonder if they’ve found a usable suggestion for their “Name the Appitrack tram-laying machine” competition yet. As a local paper said, “We’ve got to live with it, so we may as well name it.” Sounds like some people’s approach to having kids…

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Another interesting feature of the past festive season was the Living-Statue Santa. The last time I saw him, he was being interrogated by some bikeriding kids. They were asking him where his sleigh was parked and, if this was his busiest time of the year, how come he was standing motionless on a box? I felt like putting my arm around him. It was a good idea mate, but today’s kids…

Just passed an “A-Board” outside The Greyhound saying “Bad-Axe, the world’s worst band – honest!”

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That should bring the punters in. – Lightnin’ Pete (via email)

Facebook.com/thebeestonian Charity Wine Tasting Evening At Belle & Jerome, Beeston “New World vs Old World” Thursday, 20 February, 7:30 pm

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Over the past few years, New World wines have become the fashionable bottle of choice. However, the Old World are now fighting back and still produce some of the finest wines available. So, do you prefer your Chardonnay from Chablis, your Sauvignon Blanc from Sancerre, or your Pinot Noir from Burgundy? Come and join us to see if the Young Pretenders really can keep pace with the Old Masters. Presented by the inimitable Canice O’Reilly, and served with tasting platters from our kitchen, this promises to be another excellent evening of food, wine, discovery & laughter. Tickets are £25 each, of which £5 will go directly to support The Brain Tumour Charity. Call 0115 9677779 to reserve your tickets.

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