Moving on...

Not as in the game show title I gave to a rather vile and scary TV series in my follow-up to Londonia . . . but us, moving on, to a new abode. Or rather an old 1968 breeze block built abode as opposed to our current large and elegant 1830s house.

A couple of reasons: achey stuff that is not really going away - our doc looked at me with a raised eyebrow and said: 'the cure for hip and back tendonitis . . . stop doing the things that cause the problem - i.e lots of heavy gardening, wood shifting, hefty housework. You're not thirty anymore, or even forty, or . .  OK, I said, I get it.

                                                               A section of the garden

                                                                          The wood

Also, it's time for a town stint. Mark needs to be near other musicians, and to be able to give music lessons as our earning potential as artists is pretty useless, to say the least. 

It wasn't an easy idea to take on board at the outset. All the work we've done here, the magnificent garden, the privilege of living in a beautiful old house with all its history. Mark was not keen, mainly as uprooting all our stuff again was indeed an unpleasant idea, exhausting, just the idea of it! But thanks to a rather crazy 1970s house I had pinpointed on the main island of Saumur, he began to imagine life in the town. We visited the house a few times and put in an offer but due to the long standing feud between the inheritors of said house, none of them were speaking to each other. The weeks turned into a few months and still one of them refused to accept the offer, so we started house hunting again. 

Meanwhile our house had had an offer and we had gladly accepted, mainly as the lovely buyers have the same vision as us - preserve the garden as a haven for wildlife as it has been for the last forty five years - thanks in great part to our wonderful previous house occupant who had planted most of the trees, bushes and flower gardens. You have to accept when selling a property that your potential buyers may have very different ideas to you, and our hearts had sunk a few times as folk had talked of selling off the wood (madness! absolute insanity when the wood provides all the house's heating!) or had talked of ripping things out in order to install a pool, etc... We are supremely happy to know that the house's next dwellers will love the house, and continue to add life to these incredible gardens.

                                                      One of my favourite garden views

So, the next project . . . very different. No wood (sob) but a reasonable space for creaky people to carry on the nature welcoming idea - a bird refuge, pond to be added, trees to be planted, vines and wisteria to be grown for shade, and vegetables to be grown on the weird long strip of fertile-looking garden behind the house. The agent had described the property as atypical, and I had said, that's ok, we are too. And it is - a very odd layout but the main interest being the large salon. I had been searching for a house with such a room so we can finally install our inherited grand piano (thank you dear Rosemary) and even do house concerts, music lectures etc. Another reason that the house 'spoke' to us three is that there is a view of the railway line from Thoars, through Saumur and on to Chateau du Loire. This will be the third house we have lived in which features a railway line as part of its soundscape, something we love! 

Large salon with deer's head - previous occupant was a keen hunter

The location is interesting; on a road where there were once thirty windmills, now, four, non-functioning, and an enjoyable amble into town via the Saumur Chateau into the main square for the weekly market and joy! cafés etc. Life will be more on foot, and the dog walks surrounding the house are new and inspiring. 

So, time to amass boxes, purge stuff - had a good go already - a car boot load of ? to Emmaus, and much more to go . . . why do we keep all this stuff? I'll try hard this time to not let the clutter encroach.

2025

January was welcomed in at our house by Mark making his own 'Galette des Rois': Puff pastry, frangipane edible round item that appears by the pantechnicon-load at this time of the year in all French bakeries and supermarkets. 

Not biased or anything . . . but his G des R was (and still is - large version) far superior.

Happy New Year to all my regular blog readers and anyone who happens to stumble into the attic of my mind.

Road trip

The first rule of Road Trip is: you don't talk about road trip. 

The second rule of Road Trip is: you don't talk about road trip.

The third rule of Road Trip is: If someone yells stop! wait - I need to look at that old decaying building, the car stops, and the edifice/other psychogeographic element must be observed/explored.

The fourth rule of road trip is: two people to a road trip - this can be altered but two is preferable.

The fifth rule of road trip is: one road trip at a time, people. 

The sixth rule: No shirts, no shoes. Actually, weather depending, shoes are useful, and as many layers as required can be added.

The seventh rule: Road trips will go on as long as they have to . . . probably curtailed naturally by running out of petrol, and or other pressing life commitments.

The eight and final rule of road trip is: If this is your first day on road trip, you have to do road trip.

(After Brad Pitt's inaugural Fight Club speech) 

I'd add another rule involving regular snack-stops. 

Ezra (son) and I have enjoyed many road trips over the years - not necessarily miles away (got to think of the carbon tyre print, after all). Often they have been inspired by a town with an odd name, or a disused mine/train station/other places that would not appear in a guide book. 

Yesterday a drear day of grey announced itself we decided on a trip to Durtal, with some cross country wandering before reaching the town itself. I turned the ignition key and stated the first two rules, after which we drove to Saumur and Vivy to look at abandoned train lines, then to Longue Jumelles to drink hot chocolate in a village bar - where I got sat on by a very insistent and warm ginger cat.

seemingly abandoned chateau with distinct horror movie potential

Cross country to Durtal via villages with intriguing names such as 'Huillé (Oily) and quickly tracked down a pizza restaurant run by two Afghans. The food was wonderful and fuelled us for a good slope around the town which was enveloped in grey fogginess, temperature hovering around 2 degrees. Durtal has a beautiful sandstone chateau, which would certainly feature in any normal guide book as well as many once-prestigious buildings which speak of a town which had in the past grown wealthy on its tannery businesses thanks to Le Loir river.

       Durtal chateau and church

The cold was sinking into our bones, and the not overly-abundant daylight was fading fast. Thoughts of wood stove/tea and cake rather abruptly ceased the road trip, but it was as ever an excellent day, the hours, very memorable.

Button pressed

After many months of work, possibly a year . . . I forget, we pressed the Findaway Voices, publish button, and the Londonia audiobook whizzed off into the net, and to somewhere in the USA where someone - I think a real being - will check it all meets their requirements and on the 3rd of February Londonia should emerge as an ear-engaging tale.

Of course, optimists like Mark and myself always assume doing such a project will be fairly straightforward, take a couple of months, bit of learning on the way . . . yeah, jobs a good'n. In fact the whole project has been a vast learning curve - a good one, but vast, for sure. Narrating, sound production, hours and hours of editing, composing and playing the compositions, and learning new software, working with our PR man, and much more. But it's been a brilliant journey, and one we shall embark on again very soon.

Press release by Will Gethin of Conscious Frontiers.

Londonia: Dystopian Drama Hits Close to Home

Dickens meets Mad Max in this stunning audiobook adaptation of Kate A. Hardy’s post-apocalyptic masterpiece

Mirroring the crises of today’s post-Covid world, the author’s vision for future London feels eerily prescient …

LONDONIA AUDIOBOOK RELEASE: MONDAY 03 February, 2025  

Londonia Podcast Launch: Monday 20 January, 2025  

“This is a beauty! I was captivated by the protagonist’s situation in a heartbeat. Kate A Hardy is a highly compelling storyteller.”  Sir Robin Millar, record producer and social commentator 

 

Monday 03 February 2025 heralds the launch of the spellbinding new Londonia audobook, adapted from Kate A. Hardy’s gripping dystopian novel, which envisions a post-apocalyptic London set in 2072 and imagines how people might survive in that future time. The audiobook will be available on Findaway Voices by Spotify, Audible and all major audiobook platforms.

Narrated by Kate A. Hardy, and with musician/composer Mark Lockett designing the immersive soundscape and musical score, the new audiobook brings the momentous satirical tale and visceral fantasy world of Londonia - with its time-altered language and outlandish cast of characters - vividly to life. 

Originally published by Tartarus Press in 2020, Londonia, recounts the adventures of sassy 30-something protagonist, Hoxton, who having lost her memory, takes up residence in a disused church in Shoreditch with her horse Kafka, and sets out to uncover her past, embarking on a precarious new work path as a ‘Finder’ (sourcer/trader of rare goods). As Hoxton weaves between the lawless sprawl of Londonia (the city’s outlying area) and the hyper-central power state, the Cincture, the story unfolds to the backdrop of an apocalyptic event of 2038, referred to as the “Final Curtain”.  Popularly held to have been caused by a global internet crash, the Final Curtain has plunged the world into a technological descent, which combined with the devastating effects of climate change has transmuted the formerly high-tech cityscapes of London into a visceral urban jungle, reminiscent of Mad Max meets Oliver Twist.

Kate A. Hardy, whose previous books include childrens’ story Alfi Beasti, don’t eat that! (published by Puffin) and the Going out in the Midday Sun trilogy, says: “The Londonia audiobook offers a deeper dive into the world I created. With Mark Lockett's bespoke sonic environment amplifying the tale’s mood and atmosphere, we’ve brought Londonia to life in a way I could only have dreamt of when writing the book.” 

This new audiobook adaptation invites listeners to fully immerse themselves in Hoxton's world, with the evocative narration and captivating soundscape capturing the essence of life in Londonia – a feral hinterland whose gun-toting inhabitants variously sleep in disused rail carriages, trade teeth fixing for sex, wash in bath houses, toast bread over fires, correspond via messenger pigeons and risk death from violence and poxes. Meanwhile, behind the towering metal walls of the Cincture, the wealthy elite continue their lavish, speed-fashion lifestyles in denial of the impoverished Dickensian quarter that surrounds them. 

As in real life, we face economic crisis and impending climate breakdown, the Final Curtain and the disordered post-internet world described in Londonia may be nearer than we like to think. Yet the book brings a message of hope, as Kate elucidates: “My aim has been to present Londonia as a dyst-hopian tale. There may be strife, hunger and plague but this harshness is placated by times of convivial community spirit, humanity and humour.”  

A raucous satire on our consumer society, the gap between haves and have-nots and the vacuous, fickle nature of fashion, Londonia is a rollicking romp of a ride, which also offers timely signposts for how we can live more lightly on our beleaguered planet - recycling and reusing, growing food and foraging, less immersed in screens and more connected to ourselves, to each other and to nature. “I hope the audiobook accentuates the book’s mission to explore what can emerge in the future while also satirising where we are now,” Kate concludes.

Providing a free taster for the audiobook, a Londonia podcast series will launch on Monday 20 January in advance of the audiobook’s release (03 February), sharing the first six chapters of the audiobook over a six-week period.

For more information about the new Londonia audiobook and podcast, visit: https://kateahardy.com

To listen to an introduction to Londonia, complete with visuals and a glossary of Londonia-speak, visit: https://youtu.be/NEiBJzKmMTk

Press preview copies of the full audiobook are available on request  

Press Images are available in this DROPBOX

Kate A. Hardy and Mark Lockett are available for interview

Biographies are attached  

For Media Enquiries contact Will Gethin at Conscious Frontiers: 07795 204 833 • will@consciousfrontiers.com

Notes to Editors:

• Narrated by Kate A. Hardy, with music and soundscapes by Mark Lockett, the Londonia audiobook will be released on Findaway Voices by Spotofy (and all major platforms) on Monday 03 February 
• To preview the first few chapters of the audiobook, visit: https://www.youtube.com/@londonia-e5b
• To watch the showreel for the audiobook, visit: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DP14XkBEBaI&t=53s
• The Londonia podcast, launching on Monday 20 January, will be available on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, YouTube and all major podcasting platforms
• Smithi, Kate A. Hardy’s hotly anticipated sequel to Londonia, is coming soon – watch this space!

Critical praise for Londonia (the novel):

"A deeply engaging and always-entertaining novel, the author’s superb use and invention of future language is brilliant." Paula Guran, Locus magazine

"Enchanting . . . Hardy’s almost hopeful view of the world’s inevitably chaotic future lifts this entertaining and well-told tale.”  Publishers Weekly 

"Fantastical yet believable, it also shares hopeful messages for the future about how we can live more simply.”         Psychologies magazine

"This is a superbly written book retaining dialogue, place and characterisation to a masterful level. You believe in Hardy’s world and it should hardly be long before a producer is clamouring to make her highly visual future London into a film or series… it strikes at the heart of what we consider to be important in life – something all of us are thinking about at this strange time." Kindred Spirit

Paris wanderings

As is the case in most areas of France seemingly, we can't find a dentist . . . anywhere. I tried 25 in the bigger towns last time we had a semi-emergency - nothing. So, Paris it was. And how efficient the result was and is. We get the train to Montparnasse, cross over the windswept and rather desolate Montparnasse sq (which is apparently due for a 're-looking') and enter the centre de soins dentaire. This time was no exception in the efficiency line of things; carte vital noted, time for a pee and into the chair of terror - I am completely dentist phobic . . . Luckily for me, all was good, not so great for Mark who will have to return next week - bad, as in, work to be done, eek! but good as in he gets another day looking at art and architecture, and eating wonderful Indian food in the Gare du Nord sector.

It is an expense, the travel there and back, but as a cultural, and cheapish experience - if you go easy on the eateries - scarily expensive on the whole apart from our afore-mentioned favourite curry establishments, and the 'Bouillons' scattered around the city (once soup kitchens, and still very reasonable) - it's a trip we would so rarely make otherwise, and, as a pair of artists, it is vitally enriching. Mud, garden, wood fires, dog walks and own work is all great but broken up with city vistas, art and music, well, it's inspiration that nurtures ideas and furthers our various art forms.

                                                              Daftest eatery sign of the trip

We had the incredible luck this time of staying in an apartment a few meters from the Arc du Triomph rather than a scraggy Air B and B somewhere many metro stops out. A delightful couple who stayed in our own B and B during the summer extended hands of super generosity and invited us to stay for a weekend or a week! if we liked. We do like! But time away from the rambling house/garden/animals is complicated, so a weekend it was. 

our view . . .

I couldn't recall how many decades it was since I went in the Louvre so Mark bought online tickets and we duly queued after the dentist RDV. Some interesting conversations to be filed away such as from a large American family behind us:

Kid of about ten: "Mom . . . how long d'we have to be here? Can we get back to the hotel soon?"

Mom: "Look we're just gonna do the Mona Lisa, OK? then straight back!"

It must have cost them about 60 bucks for the experience of seeing a small enigmatic-looking woman gazing back at them from behind glass and through a forest of iPhones. Still . . . if you are doing the checklist I suppose that's one of the highlights along with the big, pointy metal construction and the church-on-hill experience. 

                                                          Best 16th century dog portrait

We spent a couple of hours staring at much sumptuous paintwork, mostly Northern European of the C16 and then I was ready to move on. Mark has the capacity to wander like an elegant grey and black attired crane through as many rooms as time will allow, stooping to inspect, or gazing at the bigger works. An hour, and I've had it. I usually fixate on one or two paintings and study them in detail - especially if there are dogs in them - marvelling at the techniques, and just appreciating the mere fact that these extraordinary works have survived for so long, and are hung in a gallery for us to marvel at. It's just too big and busy - the Louvre, for me. I prefer smaller galleries, even really small ones if there is an intriguing exhibition happening. And I like wandering around probably more than any other city experience - see many previous posts on the subject.

                                                                           Worst art

This trip's wanderings were mostly to the North East of Paris - a voyage to Nanterre - which our hosts, quite understandably, didn't understand when there is the whole of the glorious capital to explore. The reason for the derive was to visit the Tours Aillaud, or cloud towers. Constructed in the 70s by architect, Emille Aillaud, or rather, conceived by him, they are well worth visiting. Extraordinary, towering curved forms, eighteen of them, with landscaped areas and a giant mosaic serpent. The site I looked at before we went said - 'be very wary, it's a dangerous area', or similar fear-inducing words. Possibly at two in the morning if you turn up in a Maserati and slope about dripping in Dior, but it was quiet, peaceful and several locals asked if we were lost as we must have been looking suitably stunned, turning slowly around and staring upwards.

biggest mosaic serpent of the trip

We then walked towards the city centre via La Defence, soulless, yes, but some interesting buildings, fountains and views; then onto the gallery, fondation Louis Vuitton, situated on the edge of magnificent park/woodlands. This is a building to just spend a lot of time gawping at - the sheer madness and brilliance of such a structure; the amount of iron, steel, wood and glass, and the numbers of people who must have been involved in its construction. The pop art expo was good but my joints were suggesting a nice lie down might be a good idea, so we hiked back to our our flat and did just that, followed by an apéro dinatoire (drinks with biggish snacks) with our lovely hosts and a testing of the local Indian restaurant - excellent!

I got a fair bit of sketching done: Seven in the drizzly morning, standing in a bus shelter as the traffic thrummed around the arc du Triomphe, various metros - line 6 is especially great as it passes many landmarks, and the return to home journey as the Pais suburbs zipped passed my TGV window.

dampest sketch of the trip

  

Yuletide rant Number, probably about 20.

So, the tide of red, gold and green twaddle is upon us again. It's been a very busy year here, but even so it only seems a few weeks ago that I was stripping the old baubles from last years tree - now brown, needle denuded and waiting to become kindling. The air of festive desperation appears more marked than ever this year, and, with added Black Friday mania, the whole lead up to that one day of infant-worship feels terrifying and sickening - to me anyway. 

Do not get me inaccurate, I love Christmas, or at least certain aspects of it: making mince pies, hauling out the ancient and much loved decorations, adding green stuff to the home; carols from Liverpool Cathedral, and the opening of presents, et al. It's the shopping mania I hate; the encouragement of supermarkets to buy absolute crap, truckloads of chocolate, force-fed duck products, cheeky Santa underwear, special yuletide bedlinen and china; meaningless, soulless, worthless, junk.

On entering our biggest supermarket a couple of days ago, I observed the towering cathedral of chocolate boxes, BlackFriday/Xmas promoted Barbi's/Harry Potter/Starwars merch and felt overwhelmingly anxious about the state of the planet, especially our wealthy sections of it. After buying a couple of unavailable-elsewhere essential items I slipped out again and went off to Emmaus to buy a few old canvasses to paint on. Afore-mentioned shop has a great department of second hand red, gold and green festive accessories, complete with nativity sets, hand crafted pallet wood Christmas trees and boxes of baubles - fill a bag for 20 cents. My Scroogeness calmed down, and a small warm feeling of Christmas prep stated to roam about in my stubborn mind. We shall be buying second hand from Vinted, making a festive table from charity shop accessories, and spending time making celebratory food near and on the day. 

And I shall visit one or more churches to perhaps light a candle and think about what all this consumerism madness month is really about, whatever I believe or don't. 

 

The life of inanimate objects, number . . . not sure

Perhaps everyone sees landmasses on pavements and within ceiling cracks, notes the jauntiness or sadness of a building according to its windows and doors placement, and imagines the internal thoughts of overlooked, once useful items. Or not. I do seem to spend quite a lot of time wondering if abandoned chairs feel depressed, or if our car would mentally benefit from a deep clean - or any sort of clean . . . Sentimental/deranged, possibly, or just someone who wonders about everything and suspects none of us know very much about anything - one only has to look at recent events in America, and the amount of mech rattling going on in Russia . . . 

From the left: "Oh . . . what's the point of. . . anything? You stand here screwed to a filthy grey wall from forty years, spouting out copper sulphate whenever it's required. Do they thank me? Do they? And they still haven't given me enough insulation . . . and my tube has a hole in it - mice chewed through it last winter - bloody painful I can tell you.

Come on . . . cheer up! It's not that bad. Look at the sky, and clouds - the birds. D'you know a little wren sat on my spout yesterday - drank some water and sang. Wonderful it was. Made you glad to be alive.

Oh, shut up! You're not alive, are you. Just superior coz you're taller than us two. At least your pipes only have H20 going through them - me? stinky old tractor oil - gets everywhere - look at the state of this wall. And you hold the rag, Favouritism. That's what it is.