The Mix. Thoughts, ramblings, advice, memories, links, somewhere for those things that don't go anywhere else. Possibly work, possibly work-related, possibly neither.

Chet Memories

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I’m a huge fan of Chet Baker, and I’ve heard trumpeter Colin Steele play before so I was always going to have this show Remembering Chet on my radar, and it was definitely an hour well spent as he, Iain Ewing, vocals, and Euan Stevenson on piano captivated a packed early evening house at the Jazz Bar for their final Festival Fringe performance.

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Going Underground

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There’s skill in staging a production that appears under-rehearsed when in reality it’s just so darn tight. That’s what you get with Vegas Underground – a precious hour of full-on entertainment with songs, banter, repartee, the odd guest, and the odd glitch (“where’s the guest, where’s the mic?”) that pass so smoothly that these artistes are either very practiced or they can just ride the wave. They’re clearly enjoying it as much as we are …

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Oxford Union Debate votes big is best

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As ever the Oxford Union Debate at the Oxford Farming Conference was going to merit a full house and, from the moment that Amelia Hamer, Somerville College, President of the Oxford Union, was ushered into the Chamber by her two bow-tied, tail-coated acolytes, a sense of drama was on the cards. Dick Playfair was there…

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Verbally abused

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We’ve become lazy with language. Cliché and jargon have crept into every aspect of life – and business as much as anywhere. It’s not often I have a rant and go off on one, but I’m going to go off on one now.

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Blackburied Alive!

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I took some persuading to get one. You would think for someone in PR that the gadget that enabled you to keep in touch by phone, text and e-mail at all times would be a must.

Not so for me, until now. I think that there are times when it’s good not to be in contact (like driving and eating a banana, or when receiving serve, or at the vet, or just before the trumpet solo in A String of Pearls … or at a meeting with a client), and when it’s good to talk (as they say) rather than e-mail.

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Je m’y attendais un peu

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Well it was bound to happen sooner or later.

The Paris office, our apartment in the 7th, is closing – and with it our monthly trips to Paris for real city life and my regular appointment at Franck Provost, hairdresser to the stars, in the rue de Sèvres.

The determining factor was tenant or client…

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