Yesterday I travelled to London with a group of friends to see ‘Hadestown’ in the West End. I had expected it to be good, and I wasn’t disappointed. But what I hadn’t expected was to be so thoroughly moved by the ending – the sentiment of which was that how we love to re-tell the saddest of stories, even though we know how they end. I’m lucky in that I live close to London, and often pop up to see a show or go to a party. It’s not the same as when I lived there, I can’t believe how much I used to cram in. Life is slower now, but I find myself hankering after city life again. Not London necessarily, just the pace and people of a city.
The end of 2024 and the first week or so of 2025 were spent in a place I have been dreaming about for many years. I finally got to visit New Orleans, and it was every bit as wonderful in real life. Unbelievably pretty in some areas, lovely, lovely people, and the best music I have ever heard – every night of the week, all day in some spots. Such an interesting place, it will haunt me for a long time. On New Years Eve I had been out exploring all day, and by the evening had found myself on Bourbon Street; quite amazed at how many people were out, and how jubilant it all was. I’d watched lots of different bands, in bars and on street corners. I was knackered, still trying to cope with the time difference, and looking a total mess. I remember seeing the road sign for Canal Street around 10pm, thinking ‘OK, I’ll have one more drink, then that’s the way I need to walk home.’ I was staying in a hostel in Mid-City, about a 40-minute walk up Canal Street. There was a streetcar but I knew it wouldn’t be running, and I wasn’t sure how the fares worked yet. It was at that Canal and Bourbon junction a few hours later that a maniac drove a pickup truck two blocks, killing 14 people and injuring about 40 others.
I had gone into what I had heard was the only decent jazz bar on Bourbon, a place with the unfortunate name of ‘Fritzel’s.’ It was there I got chatting to a woman from California that was visiting for the day. We then met a chap from Colorado who was in town working for the Sugarbowl. The three of us went to Jackson Square to watch the fireworks, and then headed to Frenchmen Street at the other end of the French Quarter for some music and dancing. We managed to see Kermit Ruffins play at The Blue Nile. The Californian woman and I got into an Uber at 3am, dropping me off first before she headed back to her hotel in the Quarter. I woke up the next day to a barrage of texts asking if I was ok. Being 6 six hours ahead, everyone in the UK had seen the news – I had no clue what had happened at first. If my new friend hadn’t got into the Uber with me, she would have been right around the corner from the attack.
I was devasted for the city. New Orleans has a pretty bad infrastructure, practically everyone who lives there works for the service industry, and they rely on tourism. Media from around the world flooded in, even Joe Biden was in town on Jan 6th. Ironically it was probably the safest time to be there. Bourbon Street was reopened after 48 hours, but I noticed that the street musicians didn’t return for another week. There was a vigil and jazz memorial on the Saturday night that I went to. I painted my name on the wall near to where all of the crosses and candles had been placed at the site of the attack. I mourned with them.
I spent a lot of New Years Day in a daze, reading accounts of the attack on social media and watching the news. The following day a friend I had made at the hostel got me a ticket to the Sugarbowl. The day after I went on a tour; kayaking in the Manchec Swamp and visiting the Whitney Plantation. My favourite day of all was going to a Second Line, that lasted 4 hours, and went all through Uptown, to places not mentioned in the guidebook. I was with a friend I had made on the swamp tour, and was so glad I got to share that experience with someone. I love travelling on my own, but sometimes it’s fun to say, ‘Isn’t this crazy?!’ to another person. We had the best time sampling dodgy cocktails and hot dogs sold by street vendors. That evening we went to The Preservation Jazz Hall, and had a photo with Greg Stafford, who told me about the places he had been to in England.
On Jan 6th I took part in the annual Joan of Arc Parade, which is the first parade of the season, and marks the start of Mardi Gras. I had seen a call out for volunteers on facebook, and wrote the krewe an email. I realised on speaking to other people in the parade, that taking part was very special, and it was something that not all local people even get to do. January 7th was my birthday, and I celebrated by watching Rebirth Brass Band at a club called The Rabbit Hole. In the second week of the holiday I was able to get out to jazz bars that only mainly locals go to, and saw more amazing music. I loved the Bywater and Treme neighbourhoods. I managed to cram a lot into 12 days, but still left with a list of about 15 places that I didn’t have time for. I will go back one day.
At the moment I am rather disenchanted with the Fringe theatre scene. I have decided to pull back from the gig treadmill this year, and concentrate on writing, travel and workshops – and earning the money it takes to do those things. I’ve just finished a hefty commission for Winchester Youth Theatre – people are paying me to write now, it’s extraordinary. So I’m calling myself a proper writer, and treating it like my actual job. I hope to get back on the stage in the Autumn – I’m toying with the idea of doing a double bill of ‘Frontal Lobotomy’ and ‘Testy Manifesto’ to see if I can hold that many words in my head for an evening. In April I’m walking the Camino de Santiago (Portuguese Costal Route) with my sister, and now that Winter is ending, I’ll get out exploring in the van again. We spent all last summer converting it, so apart from a couple of late summer festivals, a night at a campsite near Bristol in October for a clown workshop, and a stealth camp in a London car park after a party last weekend, I’ve not had much of a chance to sleep in the back.
I’m also very fearful for the world right now, and looking for ways to mobilise, support progressive movements, and centre joy and community in my life. I will make another show, but it will happen in its own sweet time.
Welcoming back the light,
JJlF xx
The end of 2024 and the first week or so of 2025 were spent in a place I have been dreaming about for many years. I finally got to visit New Orleans, and it was every bit as wonderful in real life. Unbelievably pretty in some areas, lovely, lovely people, and the best music I have ever heard – every night of the week, all day in some spots. Such an interesting place, it will haunt me for a long time. On New Years Eve I had been out exploring all day, and by the evening had found myself on Bourbon Street; quite amazed at how many people were out, and how jubilant it all was. I’d watched lots of different bands, in bars and on street corners. I was knackered, still trying to cope with the time difference, and looking a total mess. I remember seeing the road sign for Canal Street around 10pm, thinking ‘OK, I’ll have one more drink, then that’s the way I need to walk home.’ I was staying in a hostel in Mid-City, about a 40-minute walk up Canal Street. There was a streetcar but I knew it wouldn’t be running, and I wasn’t sure how the fares worked yet. It was at that Canal and Bourbon junction a few hours later that a maniac drove a pickup truck two blocks, killing 14 people and injuring about 40 others.
I had gone into what I had heard was the only decent jazz bar on Bourbon, a place with the unfortunate name of ‘Fritzel’s.’ It was there I got chatting to a woman from California that was visiting for the day. We then met a chap from Colorado who was in town working for the Sugarbowl. The three of us went to Jackson Square to watch the fireworks, and then headed to Frenchmen Street at the other end of the French Quarter for some music and dancing. We managed to see Kermit Ruffins play at The Blue Nile. The Californian woman and I got into an Uber at 3am, dropping me off first before she headed back to her hotel in the Quarter. I woke up the next day to a barrage of texts asking if I was ok. Being 6 six hours ahead, everyone in the UK had seen the news – I had no clue what had happened at first. If my new friend hadn’t got into the Uber with me, she would have been right around the corner from the attack.
I was devasted for the city. New Orleans has a pretty bad infrastructure, practically everyone who lives there works for the service industry, and they rely on tourism. Media from around the world flooded in, even Joe Biden was in town on Jan 6th. Ironically it was probably the safest time to be there. Bourbon Street was reopened after 48 hours, but I noticed that the street musicians didn’t return for another week. There was a vigil and jazz memorial on the Saturday night that I went to. I painted my name on the wall near to where all of the crosses and candles had been placed at the site of the attack. I mourned with them.
I spent a lot of New Years Day in a daze, reading accounts of the attack on social media and watching the news. The following day a friend I had made at the hostel got me a ticket to the Sugarbowl. The day after I went on a tour; kayaking in the Manchec Swamp and visiting the Whitney Plantation. My favourite day of all was going to a Second Line, that lasted 4 hours, and went all through Uptown, to places not mentioned in the guidebook. I was with a friend I had made on the swamp tour, and was so glad I got to share that experience with someone. I love travelling on my own, but sometimes it’s fun to say, ‘Isn’t this crazy?!’ to another person. We had the best time sampling dodgy cocktails and hot dogs sold by street vendors. That evening we went to The Preservation Jazz Hall, and had a photo with Greg Stafford, who told me about the places he had been to in England.
On Jan 6th I took part in the annual Joan of Arc Parade, which is the first parade of the season, and marks the start of Mardi Gras. I had seen a call out for volunteers on facebook, and wrote the krewe an email. I realised on speaking to other people in the parade, that taking part was very special, and it was something that not all local people even get to do. January 7th was my birthday, and I celebrated by watching Rebirth Brass Band at a club called The Rabbit Hole. In the second week of the holiday I was able to get out to jazz bars that only mainly locals go to, and saw more amazing music. I loved the Bywater and Treme neighbourhoods. I managed to cram a lot into 12 days, but still left with a list of about 15 places that I didn’t have time for. I will go back one day.
At the moment I am rather disenchanted with the Fringe theatre scene. I have decided to pull back from the gig treadmill this year, and concentrate on writing, travel and workshops – and earning the money it takes to do those things. I’ve just finished a hefty commission for Winchester Youth Theatre – people are paying me to write now, it’s extraordinary. So I’m calling myself a proper writer, and treating it like my actual job. I hope to get back on the stage in the Autumn – I’m toying with the idea of doing a double bill of ‘Frontal Lobotomy’ and ‘Testy Manifesto’ to see if I can hold that many words in my head for an evening. In April I’m walking the Camino de Santiago (Portuguese Costal Route) with my sister, and now that Winter is ending, I’ll get out exploring in the van again. We spent all last summer converting it, so apart from a couple of late summer festivals, a night at a campsite near Bristol in October for a clown workshop, and a stealth camp in a London car park after a party last weekend, I’ve not had much of a chance to sleep in the back.
I’m also very fearful for the world right now, and looking for ways to mobilise, support progressive movements, and centre joy and community in my life. I will make another show, but it will happen in its own sweet time.
Welcoming back the light,
JJlF xx
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