Adrian Spendlow - Adrian's Chats

As you may know Adrian loves a chat and we are putting together a selection of his best bits here. Keep checking because it could take a while and he is always likely to add more at any moment. Also check out Adrian's Blogs at http://www.myspace.com/adrianspendlow - Check this out - Rants

Ghost Wars 2 ends in Halloween truce
When local storytellers Gothic Molly (alias Helen Sant) and Adrian Spendlow met for the first time, the daggers were out! Both have links with ghosts, as Helen has been a ghost storyteller since 2003, organising walks and events round the city, while Adrian, storyteller and official poet in residence at Jorvik, is the son of York's first ever official ghost walker Connie Spendlow. (Yes Helen, I still recall the phone call I had from a ghostie walking chap saying ''I don't know whose son you are but you are not mine.'' Any way back to your press release...)
When Helen walked into one of Adrian's events at Williams Bar, the whole place froze as the audience gathered noticed the tense atmosphere. ''Good evening Adrian, I'm here to spy on you,'' said Helen blatantly. Adrian was none too pleased and threw her a dirty look, as he continued his story about the Barguest of York; the black dog reputed to haunt the Snickleways. (Yes and I would like to argue with you about the pronunciation of that very beast) In the interval, Helen explained she was partly joking, (Pah!) but as part of her research as a storyteller, she regularly likes to see how other performers put their walks and events across, checking out the competition. However, Adrian was initially cold and there was a heated argument about his claim to ghost fame. The evening ended on a sour note with Helen storming out. (I pushed her.)
Now the two have reconciled their differences when Adrian offered a surprise olive branch when they met at the planning meeting for next year's York Literature Festival. After chatting, they decided to work together on a Halloween event and that their combined interests could work to their advantage.

Graffiti Arrest.
So Spee says to me it’s a 1K reward to dob in a graffiti artist now you know. Yes I know I says, it nearly happened to me. I like to think that the new face of hip hop was kinda impressed. Streets Alive! You could say. Cos it were that there festival where I was nearly carted off from and the chap from Browns was nearly a thousand pounds richer. Not the guy who runs the coffee area I hasten to say, er Alistair, he was lovely. But another guy comes out and sees me chalking on the pavement and the next thing you know my arm is up my back and. Well OK I was on the floor looking up at fishnet stockings and boots. Well.. I was nearly had up. Shape poems for the festival; a lovely experience actually. But there I am doing shapes for each aspect of the Streets Alive Festival and I look up from my position on one knee to see four cop... bob.. Pi. police officers looking down at me. One of whom was plain clothes. Why do they do that? Three times since then, I have seen uniformed officers stood chatting with the undercover ones. Ridiculous, No I am just a passer by who thought it would be nice to chat with the police for half an hour while trying to look inconspicuous. Anyroadup, ‘Excuse me sir,’ he said loadedly, ‘but can I ask you what you are doing?’ They had walked up through the square, passing the organisers information area, Vikings, Victorians, Romans, George and his Dragon, four living statues, three strange characters painting a naked lady, (well doing paintings of her), a gigantic Australian floor mural, a one man band and a wooden horse. Panic over after a little arm twisting chat and me explaining that it was the Streets Alive Festival in conjunction with Ascot and they let me go and went and arrested Len instead. No.

New Band.
As for the new band. I have been in trouble quite a bit since working with all women. Not that them being women is anything to do with it, but.. All I said was ‘You look good. Have you lost weight? Oh didn’t I look good before? Then the other two chip in, So we don’t look good then? No we need to lose weight do we?
HELP
Then there is the name of the band. I hardly dare mention this one. I admit I didn’t put Wendy’s idea on the poster (Wendy’s Weird Women), but I thought there had been a general consensus on the idea after that; Adrian Spendlow and the Girls. BUT No not so at all. In fact once wine had worn off this offering wasn’t even recalled. Well. Except that it was on the poster! Ohoh I am in further bother. Yes Dan I said that’s right we are called Adrian Spendlow and the Girls. Mind you I don’t know how the band got to know about this cos I only told Dan..er...er.ah!

Dead Bees.
Dead bees: There I have said it. And you have read it. Aren’t there a lot of dead bees about lately. The next thing you know you are seeing dead bees everywhere. Well. It is the same with Moggiethows. I have never been a car person, as my pal James will tell you, but I have suddenly (at the age of 33) started admiring classic jobs. Fifties and on a bit. I think it is my age you know sweetie. There is a beauty of a Morris Thousand just around the corner from me (Next to a VW Camper), and next time I go past there there is two of them. Since them I have seen 13 of them - spookie huh. One soft top and a couple with 6 figure numbers. Tell you what really sweetens the concept for me, when a little old lady is pootling along in it. That means it has been with one careful owner since way back when and has only done 37 miles or something.
If all this reminiscing carries on the way it is going I will have to learn to drive.
Maybe a Vespa?

Being A Storyteller.
Being a storyteller is a personal shock and a self discovery all at once. Although this one of a couple of career changes is bringing exciting developments there are drawbacks: People keep wanting to tell me their stories!
I mean I don’t say to taxi drivers, Hey I’ve got a good route for you.
Mind you I do have a way that taxi drivers can increase their income if anyone wants ask. It’s a doozy.
Those festival toilets are owned by the rightly names firm. Search. You will be lucky if you can find anything no matter how much you Search: Loo roll, towels, the buttons you need to press, the courage to go in, the lock! But no. I shouldn’t be so derisive. Those plastic box things are very cleverly designed actually. A row of those things can last a whole festival, never running out of water, electric lighting, loo roll, paper towels, blue chemical, cleanliness over a whole long weekend, as long as there are only about 8 people at the festival. That whole in the cupboard worries me. The one with the sign above it that says something like No Cocinar! Well you wouldn’t want to would you. I mean.

I'm Famous.
It has happened. I can’t believe it. I'm famous. I - wait for it - am; The Halloween Man. People are shouting out across the street at me. Pointing. Shouting. It is a kind of seasonal memory of course, the same people have been passing me without a glance all year long. Now teenage girls giggle in shops, young lads say cool, women stare at me. No really I know lots of you who know me say I live in a dream world, but this time it is true. That’s where it started (well this year) ‘She is she’s staring at me I swear.’ This carried on till my pals in the bar had to agree, they also agreed that the husband was getting a bit narked about it. Then it came, the moment when I had to get a round in, yes it does happen occasionally, and she as on a bar stool roight next to me satring up into my eyes. Just as I was about to turn away, well run away cos the hubby was tensing up summat rotten by now, and out ity came at full volume, It’s the Halloween Man!

Bad Times.
I have my bad times, set on by a gang of traveller kids for instance. (God it was bad) But I go places where poetry never touches I suppose and the odd bad one isn’t gonna smite my loyalty to the human race. (A mate has just officially declared himself a new species as he wants no responsibility for the mess we are all making - members are welcome apparently) The good stuff happens when you don’t expect it - when you are gritting your teeth.

Information Stall
The summer was hectic, with some amazing experiences, and I’ve met some lovely people too. People put me up and it works out great, making some real good friends and spending time in beautiful environments. Thanks to all of you. I’ve been wined and dined in lovely gardens and have dressed up posh for such as Henley Festival. I fell for the Information Stall though. As we walked into the festival, worrying that we were turned out acceptably, the security people opposite the entrance announced that picnic baskets should not come in through that gate and would the security team come and remove the offenders. I hoisted up my picnic basket and ran. Then sound guy allowed me to hide it back stage and we breathed a sigh of relieve and started to wonder if we would have to eat back there. Turns out it was the MISinformation Desk. The were announcing that dresses had to be all of one colour as ladies in floral things arrived and stuff like that all day.

Grandad.
Ok so it’s been ages since the last of these newsletters; when there’s lots to talk about I’m too busy and when its all quiet there’s nothing to say. Has it ever been quiet, I don’t recall a time. I suppose the biggest news is personal rather than professional. The resultant crisis of age related panic will no doubt effect my writing however. I’m a granddad! Although this does make me feel very elderly it is wonderful, she is wonderful, Boo that is, she’s 8 weeks old and is doing tricks already. The sad bit is that Holly and Adam and baby are planning to move up to Scotland next month. I will miss them all terribly.

Hitting 50.
OK I admit it - I’ve hit fifty! Feeling very old and boring about it too. BUT - To over come all that, I want you all to come to my party. All of you I’ve worked with and all old pals. (This newsletter goes out to 800 people!?!)
It’s in York of course, so will be out on its ear for some of you. If you can make it tho, I will be well chuffed
Let me know if you can. There will be tiddy snacks on the tables and Dan Webster is putting together a scratch band doing all oldie sorta numbers (At my insistence). Lots of people have been quizzed about what music they remember me liking and Scaz has put them all on CDs. So it will all be way back stuff that I know and love. I’m thrilled already. Please come.