Cillian Murphy (© Pavel Antanov)

Last night I saw the most amazing play at the National Theatre. Technically, Misterman, by Enda Walsh, is a one-man show. And that man, Cillian Murphy, is astounding. He plays Thomas Magill, a god-fearing young man living a sheltered life in the quaint Irish town of Innisfree. On the surface, Thomas gets on well with his neighbours, but his deep-rooted unease at their imperfections manifests itself as the play progresses.

Murphy handles this wonderfully dark, sometimes comic and extremely complex script with ease, baring Thomas’ soul to take the audience inside his troubled mind. While Murphy is the only actor we see, the staging, sound, music and lighting are a powerful support cast – almost characters in their own right, who Murphy very deftly interacts with. And he makes it look effortless, so you almost don’t realise just how much he’s actually doing. But the choreography and precision involved in carrying this play off is meticulous.

As much as I love film, Misterman is a perfect example of why you just can’t beat good theatre. To see such a great performance live, right in front of you, is an unbeatable experience. I gave Murphy a standing ovation and I only wish Enda Walsh had been there so I could have applauded him too. His scriptwriting and direction had me in awe. To me, this was a masterclass in writing, acting and production. I definitely want to see it again before it closes at the end of May.

Keith Lemon

Celebrity Juice, on ITV2: What a load of misogynistic rubbish. To be honest, I don’t mind so much about the Fearne Cotton insults – she’s signed up for the series, she’s knows what she’s letting herself in for and no doubt she’s getting paid lots of money for it (and presumably more than her co-presenter and best-mate-in-real-life, Holly Willoughby, for agreeing to be Keith Lemon‘s b*tch)… But should all the guests have to put up with that, too? I’m not so sure. Even if they think they know what’s in store, once they get there and it’s happening to them I’m sure they must be shocked at just how far it goes. Like Lemon telling Frankie from The Saturdays that he wants her to defecate in his mouth. Or handing her a large glass frame containing a picture of herself and a pair of stained boxer shorts, telling her he’d used them to wank over her one million times… Yes, I realise it’s obviously (well, probably) not true, but the joke’s only funny if you’re happy to be laughing purely from shock at the ‘wacky’, ‘outrageousness’ of it. Because you couldn’t possibly be laughing at its actual comedy value. It’s an insulting thing to do to a young lady, at any time. Never mind on national television, in front of millions of people and where she’s under pressure to laugh off his so-called jokes or risk looking ‘boring’. Especially when Fearne and Holly are there lapping it all up. It would be pathetic enough if it were a teenager doing it. But actually, we’re letting a 38-year-old man do that to a 23-year-old young lady and pass it off as comedy.

Fearne (r), leading by example

If someone did the equivalent to her over the internet, we’d call them a dirty pervert and want them arrested. I’m no prude, I assure you, but the whole programme is not only objectionable but also tedious - with it’s non-stop innuendos, endless excuses to get women into sexually subservient positions (as I type, I’m watching Keith Lemon make 22-year-old Vanessa from The Saturdays and Fearne kneel down, blindfolded, to grope the crotch of one of the even-younger guys from the Rizzle Kicks, and guess the object that’s been hidden in his trousers… I mean, come on. Seriously?). It’s lazy, lowest-common-denominator humour. And when one of his puns gets an unexpected laugh, Lemon rushes in to milk it, verbally butting guests out the way without blinking. He’s like a television-sponsored school bully. I’m sure these kids’ parents and friends must watch it wanting to deck him.

ITV2 and the agents who put these kids up for this should be ashamed of themselves. Unknown to some, ‘Keith Lemon‘ is actually a character brought to life by Leigh Francis, the man behind Bo’ Selecta!, Avid Merrion, The Bear and more. (I’d always known it was the same person but until recently I’d thought that Keith Lemon was his real name and he was being himself in Celebrity Juice, rather than simply playing another part.) Presumably, Francis can just blame his alter ego and ‘edgey’ ways for such behaviour. What excuse can the others find? I can only hope that Fearne is tied into some sort of contract that she can’t get out of and not on this programme because she thinks the money and high profile are worth being ritually degraded like this, even if she is allowed to throw the odd token insult in.

And then to cap it all, at the end of the programme ITV2 announced that Celebrity Juice has been nominated for the YouTube Audience Award at the BAFTAs! What?

I really don’t mind a bit of base humour but I’m gobsmacked that this type of ‘comedy’ is being commissioned for television in this day and age. It was tired a long, long time ago. Really, is this the best they can find?

Jaime Winstone and Ryan Andrews met on the set of Daddy’s Girl, a Welsh thriller she starred in, in 2006. Ryan was a trainee camera assistant and as the youngest people there, they started hanging out together and hit it off after chatting about films. They had found their professional soul mate and were soon talking about collaborating. Jaime has championed Ray ever since. Six years later, their joint feature film, Elfie Hopkins, is now hitting our cinema screens. In it, two wannabe teenage detectives, Elfie and Dylan, become suspicious when the mysterious Gammon family move into their sleepy Welsh village. Here, Ryan gives some insights into his work. Then it’s the turn of Jaime and her co-star, Aneurin Barnard.

CO-WRITER AND DIRECTOR, RYAN ANDREWS

You said you wanted Elfie Hopkins to be a mix of British twee and American grunge. What do you mean?

I grew up reading lots of Roald Dahl and watching lots of Hammer Horror. So I wanted a slight fantasy element and also a quirky campness. That’s a bit of British heritage we don’t use a lot in film, instead we tend to show ‘gritty’ Britain. Our fashion photography and a lot of our writing have lots more fantasy and heightened elements. That was something I wanted to use, to make me stand out from other directors.

I’m 30, so grew up listening to American grunge. Bands like Nirvana and Hole. You had these kids that so wanted to be in America but who were living in the middle of rural Wales. So I wanted this to mix British and American fashion. That’s great aesthetically, as well as for story-telling.

Was it hard to get this film made – especially as a debut filmmaker?

Really hard. It took a long time to get it off the ground. But as I was working on it, I was shooting other things in my visual style, trying to prove myself. I did a short called Little Munchkins, another called Family Picnic, which I got an award for, and did a lot of music videos with fantasy elements. So I started showing people that I could direct and giving them an idea of how it was going to look. I think that really helped. And I worked with Ray (Winstone) on the way on a film called Jerusalem. Then I told him there was a great part in Elfie Hopkins for him – not so much because it was Jamie’s dad, but for me. A lot of people I’ve worked with before are in this film. It was about building a team around me that would be a support mechanism.

Is there one particular film that really inspired you?

Not for Elfie Hopkins, in particular. There are films that majorly influenced the style of how I wanted to produce something. The first Alien is my favourite film of all time. H.R. Giger’s production design and Ridley Scott’s style with the actors is what made me want to be a filmmaker. It made me look at film in a different way.  Twin Peaks was also a massive influence. The dialogue was quite crazy and off-key. People either loved it or hated it. But I grew up in this kind of Twin Peaks world in my rural village and I’m fascinated with the ‘keeping up with the Jonses’ attitude. This film is an amalgamation of that, plus films like Edward Scissorhands and detective movies for the dialogue. Even the Goonies: I love how crap they are. And I like that element with Dylan and Elfie – they’re actually terrible detectives. For me that’s really funny.

How important was Ray Winstone on the set and to have on the film?

Ray Winstone as Butcher Bryn

He was a really good boost to bring some of the other actors in. Our little movie has someone who’s done massive movies. That’s a great presence to have on set because it builds confidence. And he taught me an amazing thing – big actors take direction, so you shouldn’t be scared. I think Jamie was really happy that it wasn’t her getting her dad in. It was because Ray and I had worked together.

How much did the script change from the page to the actual production?

There was loads of evolution once we were on set and we realised that we didn’t have any money and it was a 22-day shoot. You’re like: “Shit! This is insane! We’re shooting three death scenes in a night.” Whereas in a big Hollywood movie, they do that in two days.

Your background is in fine art. How far has it influenced your style?

I started in fine art. Then I went to London Film School where I was production designing loads, from a fine art perspective. When I left Film School I continued that, as well as doing camera work. Building up my visual style, working out what works. So my scenes wouldn’t start off with the character, they’d start with the room. It’s changed quite a bit, now that I’ve got into filmmaking at a higher level – from Elfie onwards, everything starts in a slightly different way, but before it definitely came from the set, from something that I wanted to see.

JAIME WINSTONE AND ANEURIN BARNARD

Elfie and Dylan

I almost don’t recognise Aneurin Barnard when he walks in. In the film he’s a very slight, glasses-wearing, love-struck geek. He couldn’t be more opposite in person. Tall and broad-chested, with chiselled features and piercing eyes, he has a real presence. Next to him, Jaime Winstone looks very petite, almost elf-like (or is that Elfie-like?). Especially as she’s recently shaved her head for her latest role. Both are very articulate, intelligent and sincere, without taking themselves too seriously.

This film is full of 90s references. You guys aren’t old enough to remember that. Did you have to swot up?

JW: It’s not really about the specific time – it’s more about that generation of suburban kids that don’t have much to do apart from get stoned, read books and listen to grunge music. It’s more about capturing that kind of mood. And a lot of the soundtrack is current, from friends’ bands – like Big Pink and Comanechi – as well as my sister’s band.

Was it difficult to get into Elfie’s head?

JW: Not really. I think Elfie just has a fear of growing up. Of accepting she’s not a teenager anymore and she can’t just sit around smoking weed and listening to Nirvana all day long. But in a way what happens in the film propels her into being an adult and a good detective, so it’s a weird balance.

Aneurin, you’ve said one of your favourite scenes is when Dylan tells Elfie his true feelings and kisses her.

AB: Yes, it’s very real. And for once it’s nice to see that the guy has grown up faster than the girl. She’s still in the Peter Pan world, living in that childhood fantasy. While Dylan’s got to accept going to university, leaving the village, and needs to know if there’s a relationship there beyond friendship. So it becomes very adult very quickly. In that moment, with that kiss, it goes 100 miles per hour straight away and Elfie has to deal with it.

What was it that originally hooked you into the project?

Ryan. He’s super talented and this industry has space for new, up-and-coming exciting directors. They’re the future of film for the next generation and it’s very exciting to have someone like Ryan Andrews involved because he’s definitely not the norm. People say: “He’s very Tim Burton-esque”. I kinda disagree. I think he’s very Ryan Andrews-eque. I think he has his own touch on things.

What’s it like working on set with your father?

Jaime & Ray Winstone as Elife Hopkins & Butcher Bryn

JW: I’ve watched him do it since I was a kid, so it’s not a big deal. It’s just our jobs. I was a bit nervous when Aneurin and I were doing the scene with him, but mainly because of the reaction on set. Suddenly people are whispering “Ray’s here” “Ray’s here”. Then I’m reminded that people think that way about my dad. But it’s like working with any other actor, because he’s very giving and non-judgemental.

Aneurin, you do a lot of stage as well. Do you have a preference and what are the different challenges?

AB: For me it’s not about whether it’s stage or film, it’s about the different characters. It’s very important to show people that I can do anything. Well, I hope I can – let people judge me. If they think I’m crap, fine, but I’m going to do it anyway. It’s about challenging myself as an actor, including doing my own stunts. I’ve a very old fashioned perspective of the film world. My biggest inspiration is Richard Burton. He would do anything he wanted. He’d even sing, the poor sod, and he didn’t have the best voice in the world, but he’d go for it. For me it’s that all-or-nothing, pit bull kind of attitude. Either grab it by the throat and go for it or don’t bother at all. Just be different, constantly, and through that, hopefully, your talent grows.

JW: “Totes!” [laughing and stroking her recently shorn head]. I’m really lucky to be able to do theatre, film and then a bit of really good TV drama. You’re an actress and that’s a whole pallet of things that you get to play with.

Did you enjoy the fight scenes?

JW: It was good fun. I love a good flick with tits and guns, to be honest. Tits, guns and blood. It’s easy to watch. This is a serious British film but we’ve managed to slice in some of the genres that we love – the blood, the gore, the stylisation of the look, the way it’s shot and the lighting.

AB: The fight stuff was difficult for me. I’m used to doing the stunts. I used to box. I’ve been training with 13 weapons since the age of 11. And all of a sudden, I’m not allowed to be any good at it, I have to take it in the face and be very weak.

JW: [laughing] “Don’t do that, Aneurin, you look too good.”

AB: [laughing] It was a challenge for me. I really wanted to get involved and start knocking people out left right and centre but I had to let it all happen around me.

You produce it as well as act in it, Jamie. Do you feel closer to it as a result?

Yes, completely. I’m an associate producer so that’s getting it off the table, getting it made, being the force behind it. But there’s a moment when you have to step back and it’s really hard because it’s your baby. I feel extremely vulnerable, even sitting here talking about it. I’m so excited about it but I have to wait for the audiences to see it, really. But this is the sort of film we want to watch. And that’s been the drive for me and Ryan the whole way through. If one of us has gone a bit off track, the other one’s pulled them back.

We had people come to us with a lot of money but by the time they’d finished unpicking, it was just a different film. So we pulled it. We kept real, held back a year and stuck to our guns.

The costume design is very striking.

The Gammons

AB: It’s a mix of different images, complementing each other in the best way. You’ve got the story, the action, the lighting – the filming qualities. But then you’ve also got the imagery of each character. Which makes it easier for the audience to define who’s who. It’s a secret little skill that costume designers are bloody good at.

Are you tempted to write?

AB: There’s a lot that I’d like to do but right now, I’m just going to concentrate on my acting career.

JW: Me too. I’m currently working on my next project with Ryan, called Black Unicorn. But it won’t be for a while yet.

AB: [Laughing] You should do a real life version of The Last Unicorn – you know, the cartoon. It’s the scariest and saddest cartoon going. Ryan would nail it! He would twist it. Now that I’ve said it, and it’s on record, it’s my idea. I’m executive producer!

[For my review of the film, visit New Empress Magazine]

Liam Stacey

What does it say about me when the thing I find most shocking thing about Liam Stacey – the guy imprisoned for 56 days for his racist tweets about footballer Fabrice Muamba, sent seconds after he’d collapsed on a pitch in front of thousands – is that Liam ‘doesn’t look like a racist’. How ridiculous is that.

Sadly, it’s not the first time I’ve been disappointed in this way. Yet I know from experience that there are many racists about and that, as the cliché goes, they come in all shapes and sizes. Like the idiot I encountered on my way home last night, smoking a cigarette with his mate outside a pub, whilst proclaiming loudly about someone not there to defend himself: “I’m not racist but he’s a f’king black c#unt.”  When his mate clocked me walking towards them and indicated my arrival, the guy had turned round, looked at me – a black woman – and simply carried on without batting an eye lid.

Part of Liam Stacey's Tweets (from KarenKnowsBest)

With his mate nodding enthusiastically in agreement, I couldn’t help but shake my head with equal vigour and repeat his sentence back him.  He replied: “Nah, nah… You don’t understand. He *is* a f’king black c#unt. But then, I’m a white c#unt.” No you’re not, I said. You’re just a sad idiot with no intelligence or vocabulary.

The saddest thing is, idiot or not, at least I knew exactly where I stood with this guy.  He saw race as a legitimate weapon in his toolbox of abuse, and he wasn’t embarrassed to use it.

Contrary to Liam Stacey who, on the surface, is the sort of everyday guy that I’d see in the street, in a bar or at a train station and probably smile at, the way that I smile at everyone. He would’ve seemed like your average, well-presented young man. And if we’d got into a conversation, I’m sure I would have been pleased for him when I found out that he was doing a good course at uni and interested in hearing all about it. The thing is, he may well have smiled back at me, engaged in the conversation, acted ‘normal’.

But then Liam Stacey is a coward. When people started complaining about his racist tweets he first said he’d been hacked, next claimed it was a joke, then launched another tirade of abuse and finally – presumably realising the level of anger he had created – deleted his twitter account. That’s because small-minded people like Liam can only act big when they have something to hide behind. Sometimes it’s a gang of friends, other times it may be a laptop or a smartphone. So, if he had met me when by himself, would he have smiled back and chatted to me, whilst all the time thinking that I was a “f’ing black b#tch”, or worse?

Encountering racism doesn’t surprise me – although racially abusing someone who’s just had a heart attack on national television and is fighting for his life is particularly sick. But it really isn’t something that I walk around thinking about, because, perhaps naively, I assume most people have a good ‘moral compass’. So it’s draining to be reminded that it’s not just Nick Griffen who tries to disguise his hatred and blend into the crowd.

Writing this piece, I googled Liam’s name and was led to lots of article about the story, with their associated readers’ comments. Most people were appalled by Liam’s behaviour. Many people debated the punishment. However, a depressingly large number of people cited the violation of Liam’s ‘freedom of speech’. To me, this is similar to those Americans who cite their ‘right to bear arms’ as an excuse for selling guns in supermarkets every time another kid goes on the killing spree in a high school. What about Fabrice’s rights?

At least the guy I bumped into outside that bar tonight had the courage to be upfront and honest about his prejudice.

As an aside, as I walked away from the guy outside the bar, another young man came up to me and said: “Ignore him, love. He’s just a dickhead.”

“Wise words, my friend. Wise words.”

Yes indeed, that is how far the mighty Run Dem Crew pushed me this week.

It’s 10.30pm on Tuesday, 6th March and I’m too tired to say or write anything else for now. But I just needed to register that straight away. I’ll finish the rest of this tomorrow.  ’Nite..

And, good morning! It’s now 4.37am, Wednesday, 7th March.

Unsurprisingly, I found myself wide awake five minutes ago, with my mind buzzing about Run Dem Crew. So, where was I?

Being a man of good taste, RDC’s leader, Charlie, is an Arsenal supporter. So, in honour of the Arsenal vs AC Milan Champions League match that was taking place at home last night, the running route he selected was from RDC’s Shoreditch HQ of the Nike 1948 offices to the Emirates Stadium, and back. Sod’s law that last week Sarah Mai and I had made a pact to push ourselves further by moving up from the Tortoises to the Slow Hares. Now, not only would we be doing a faster pace but we would also be doing a longer distance.

I love this pic as it reminds me of taking it, when my mum & I went to Paris together.

As ever, our run was proceeded by Charlie’s ‘housekeeping’ update and pep talk. But this week’s was particularly special. He reminded us that Run Dem Crew really is about more than just running. It’s a community and a mindset that helps give people the mental, as well as physical strength, to succeed in life. Just in case anyone doubted that, he invited us to take a good look around, at the 100+ people gathered there. The Crew is made up of a wonderfully diverse group of people, many of whom have worked hard to overcome an element of adversity in their life. Charlie spoke with raw passion when he explained that running had saved him, given him focus. And he divulged that others in our midst had conveyed the same feeling to him. As he handed out the medals that had been won over the weekend – from the Milton Keynes Half Marathon to the Paris Half Marathon, with the NSPCC’s race up London’s Gherkin in between – he described what an amazing feat it was for many of the participants to have run those races. There was the generosity of spirit that led people like Bangs to support and pace determined runners like Candie, to get them through their half marathons, despite injury. There was the slim, healthy-looking guy, who’s name I’m ashamed to have forgotten but whose story I definitely remember, as only a year ago he was 19 stone and yet this week he completed a half marathon. The lovely Soph, who couldn’t do the Paris HM last year because she was bulimic and surviving on 500 calories a day, but this year was well enough to conquer it. And the amazing Emily, who had a bone marrow transplant last year and this weekend also triumphed in the Paris HM. To be running in the same crew as these guys is not only inspirational, it really is an honour. By the time the medals were handed out, I felt like crying with pride.

The more I learn about my fellow runners, the more I realise how lucky I am to have found and joined Run Dem Crew.

Nike's sign at County Hall

Unbelievably for me, after running last Tuesday, I joined RDC again the next day – Wednesday 29th February 2012 - for Nike’s 5K Leap Day Run, part of its ongoing #MakeitCount campaign. It was the opportunity to do something special with that once-in-every-four-years calendar date. An extra day to make it count. 150 of us ran from Shoreditch to County Hall on the Southbank, where Nike had laid on a party, food and drink, under the shadow of the Millennium Wheel.

#Makeitcount.

After Charlie’s talk last night, I realise that Nike couldn’t have chosen better advocates for that philosophy.

This week, there were 12 of us in the Slow Hares and as we started to make our way out, Sarah Mai and I looked nervously at each other. This was our personal challenge. We set off down the back streets of Hoxton at a gentle pace, with more experienced runners at the front and back to make sure no one got lost or left behind. And we managed to maintain that pace all the way, pretty much. I was worried about the lack of always-welcome traffic lights to slow us down but it’s amazing how much the will of the group, mutual suport and encouragement can get you through. Every now and again, one of us would express our surprise at making it so far. Together, we could do it.

Arsenal's Emirates Stadium

Eventually, the spotlights of the Arsenal stadium and cheer of the crowd were close enough to spur us on. When we finally reached it, we were so excited we raced up the stairs and did a lap around the stadium wall. That pretty much wiped us all out. So our jubilation turned to steely determination as we realised that we now had to run all the way back to Shoreditch. Luckily, it was mostly downhill. But by this point, the biting cold was eating through out glove-less hands and we were suffering. As we neared Hoxton, we bumped into one of the other groups, giving us the welcome boost of all running the final leg together. That last mile absolutely killed me. Glen shouted running tips and words of encouragement to both me and Sarah Mai, to push us through the final stretch. But it really did take every ounce of strength I had to make it.

When we finally reached HQ, my body was aching and once more I was completely spent. When Sarah Mai told me we’d run 6.35 miles, in 1.19 minutes, I was gobsmacked but joyous.

I love everything about my new Tuesday night regime. The people, the mindset, the challenge. Thank you, Run Dem Crew.

Below are some pics from the Nike 5K Leap Day Run, which culminated in the event at County Hall. Click on the first image to start the gallery, then click the top right of the pic to move on.

Olympic Rings outside City Hall

Last night I had another great run with Run Dem Crew. And I’m loving everything about my new Tuesday night regime. (OK, this is only my second week, but it is now my regime. I even cancelled the long-standing drinks plans that I had for tonight, because: “Tuesday night is running night now. Sorry, girls.”) And I love each and every sore part of my body that I drag home afterwards, because I know every ache has been well earned!

I joined the Tortoises again and we ran the same route as last week, through the glorious streets of London – leaving Shoreditch to head down to and across London Bridge, running along the river to Tower Bridge (making a cheeky stop to take pics of the Olympic rings floating on a barge outside the County Hall – a nice surprise) and then back up to Liverpool Street and home.

Olympic Rings outside City Hall

It was hard work but it was also much, much less painful than last week – it’s amazing what a difference getting off your butt, even the once, can make, right from the off.

And after getting lots of great advice last week, Tonight’s Top Tip came courtesy of the lovely Sarah Mai. Wear two bras!

This week's stats are slightly off, as I cocked-up the pause/restart thing.. We actually ran 4.6 miles over 45 mins.

Never mind flash watches that pause and re-start automatically when you do, to accurately record your distance and time, and that even help you with specific running plans (although, we did talk about those, too – and they sound great and I REALLY, REALLY want one…). If God’s been generous to you on the bosom front, then I’m told that doubling up on your scaffolding can’t be beaten. The value of that tip is not to be underestimated. During my first run last week, I soon remembered the need for a sturdy bra. Sports bras really don’t cut it. This week, the robust over-shoulder-boulder-holder that I opted for did a fair job. But I still felt the need for something more.

But now, in keeping with the ethos of Run Dem Crew, thanks to Sarah Mai I know that next week I will definitely get the support that I need.

I started writing this last night whilst feeling exhausted but elated. Buzzing from the evening that I’d just had. As I finish it tonight, the overwhelming feeling is of just how much my butt cheeks are aching, even though I’m sitting on my soft bed. But it’s so worth the pain. So regardless of that, I’m just really impressed and very proud of myself.

I know for certain that most of my mates will find this post hard to believe. I know I do, and I was there. But yesterday, I ran over four miles. Read my tired lips. FOUR LONG MILES!!!

For me, that is absolutely amazing.

I’m lucky enough to have my mum’s physique, so to the untrained eye I look fairly healthy. But the truth is that my colourful outfits hide a multitude of sins. Not least that I am extremely unfit. When I was in my early teens at school, I was the ‘sporty type’. I did gymnastics, judo and fencing, training regularly and doing well in all the inter-school competitions. I also used to run. Definitely NOT long distance. But the 100m sprint and relay race were my thing. 200m, with coercion, if someone else had dropped out. But that really was a bit far for me. Sadly though, by the time I reached 15, I had a full and, in my mind, complicated social life. With school to contend with as well, sport began to take a backseat.

I got a Saturday job and started earning my own money and I began discovering the freedom and fun of being that bit older. Enjoying teenage life, growing up in South East London – which in itself brought the added excitement of being able to jump on the number 12 bus all the way ‘into town’, to exotic places like Covent Garden and Soho. Going to great parties, starting to sneak into pubs and clubs, learning about different types of amazing music, trying not to get caught smoking, thinking about boys… I was a busy girl. ‘Til eventually, I dropped all sports except sprinting. And because I was good at it, I took it for granted. I would turn up just in time for the start of my race, not bother to warm up, run and win. Yes, as I got older, I’d collapse in a panting heap just past the finished line, but I’d still win, so I thought it was fine. In hindsight, it must have been really annoying for my fellow runners – and probably a bit arrogant on my part. But the saddest thing was that this scraping-by approach didn’t encourage me to invest in my fitness past the age of 15. At 18, after The Great Summer of 1989, I left for university and the next phase of my life, and from then on the only thing I exercised was my drinking arm.

Over the last 20+ years, I’ve realised the need to rectify that. But what to do? I tried the gym, but got bored silly on the machines and in dance classes. I’m rubbish at swimming, plus chlorine’s really bad for black people’s hair. The one thing I did get into a few years ago was kickboxing. I even passed an exam to get a yellow stripe for my white belt. But then, totally unconnected, in August 2010 I dislocated and broke my wrist. After the operation to have metal pins inserted, the doctor made it clear that kickboxing was firmly off the agenda, as my wrist was now too weak.

So, another sloth-like year passed. By December 2011, I realised I couldn’t continue like this. I’d got away with it for years but my body was finally crying out for help. Everything I’d previously taken for granted was totally out of the window – I was breathless just running for a bus or walking up escalators. Plus, I’d turned 40 in July. I was officially no longer a spring chicken.

Mr Charlie Dark (© RDC)

Shortly after my operation, I’d read an intriguing article about some runners in East London, called Run Dem Crew. I checked out the website and read: “RDC is a collective of creative heads with a passion for running and the exchange of ideas. We meet every Tuesday to run and explore the streets of London”. I wanted in. Further investigation cemented it – RDC was the brainchild of one Mr Charlie Dark – DJ, musician, poet, writer. A cheeky chappy with a great smile and big personality. Intelligent and generally one of life’s nice guys. I know all this because Charlie was part of my formative years. An old, old friend from my school days. I must’ve known him for about 30 years. And as such he will always be dear to me, regardless of how often or seldom I see him. In those  aforementioned days, where my interest in discovering new music and finding new life experiences was stronger than my interest in sports, Charlie was at the same parties, hanging around with the same people, going through many of the same South East London experiences. After leaving school, we didn’t specifically stay in touch but somehow our paths have always crossed over the years – I’d bump into him DJing at clubs where my musician ex-boyfriend would be playing or when I’d be out for a boogie with friends. Even more randomly, on one occasion I arrived at a friend’s garden party, in a north London house that I’d once lived in, only to find Charlie on the decks. By the time I read about RDC – it had already been going for three years and I probably hadn’t seen Charlie for at least two. But there are some old friends that you just know things will always be alright with. So, from that moment, I blocked Tuesday evenings out in my diary for RDC. Except, I was a bit chicken. This looked like serious running. And so, I never actually got round to contacting them. In the end, my dear friend Louise tried to take me around Clissold Park – I even bought new trainers for the occasion. But I couldn’t've jogged more than 200 metres before admitting defeat. She was shocked, I was embarrassed. We never really spoke of it again.

But eventually, on 23rd December 2011, I contacted RDC‘s general email with a message entitled ‘Getting Off My Butt‘ and explained that I needed to do just that. And, by the way, if this email goes to Charlie then hi – it’s Janet from school.. I didn’t hear anything for a while. Weeks, in fact. I thought I’d been blanked, to be honest. And then out of the blue last Friday, I got a great one-liner email: “So my friend, when are you coming to Run Dem Crew? Charlie”. During our subsequent email conversation he explained that everyone who joined the group needed to be able to run for 45 minutes, so that they didn’t impact the training of other runners. I was family, so he would give me a chance, but if I was worried about the distance then perhaps I should wait until I was confident, or at the very least bring my Oyster card with me, in case I couldn’t complete the course.. I thought that was really nice of him.

But yesterday, I decided to go for it. If I couldn’t manage it, I would bow out gracefully, jump on a bus home and allow the others to continue unhindered. So, after fighting the urge to just not bother, I hid my nerves and on Tuesday, 21st February 2012, I joined the Run Dem Crew for the first time. And I loved everything about it. From the moment I entered the Nike 1948 building in Shoreditch, where they meet, I felt a really warm and positive vibe. The room was nicely full and buzzing with lively people. They were excitedly sharing stories about races some had recently run – like last weekend’s Brighton Half Marathon – and races that are coming up – like the Berlin Half Marathon. Everyone was friendly and welcoming – making me part of their conversations straight away. Plus full of helpful advice – like, I really wouldn’t need all six layers of tops that I’d worn. Or the thigh-high socks under my tracksuit bottoms and additional legwarmers over my ankles. Before we hit the road, Charlie did some ‘housekeeping’. Reminding people that this was a running ‘crew’, rather than a running ‘group’, for a reason. We weren’t there to outshine each other, but rather to support and motivate each other along the way, creating a positive community where everyone achieved something and everyone left on a natural high. Their moto may be ‘Go Hard or Go Home‘ but complementing that is the core belief that you look out for each other when on the road, as in life. The RDC style and philosophy is right up my street. Above all, you could tell that this really was a family. People spoke very affectionately about Charlie to me. And despite the number of people there, he clearly had a connection with everyone, addressing them by name. He got those who’d completed the Brighton HM to go up and receive their medals. And despite not knowing them, I enjoyed being able to applaud them and help them celebrate their success. Charlie welcomed the various special guests and newcomers, including me. He also introduced a couple of teenagers from RDC Youngers – the offshoot that he’s set up to help mentor and motivate young people.

Then it was time to run. Each run lasts approximately an hour. RDC members are divided into five groups, depending on their speed: Tortoise, Hares, Greyhounds, Cheetahs and Elite.  Joining the Tortoises, I was nervous as hell. Even though it was the slowest group, could I do this? The other groups were running to the London Eye and back (are you sure!). Comparatively, we had it easy.

The Tortoises stop for a quick picture (don't think we're really supposed to do that - but it was so pretty..) A fantastic bunch - I couldn't have asked for a better group for my first run. I'm on the end with the green laces . Thanks, Candy, for the photo!

As it transpired, we were *only* running: along the bottom of Shoreditch High Street, past Liverpool Street station, along Bishopsgate, over London Bridge, left down the stairs onto the embankment, alongside Butlers Wharf and the River Thames, up the stairs onto Tower Bridge, over the bridge, up to Aldgate, along the Minnories, back up to Bishopsgate, past Liverpool Street station, back along Shoreditch High Street, RDC home.

Luckily, I didn’t know all of that. So I just focused on getting through the basics of running. Following the leader, one foot after another. As simplistic as that. And soaking up the view. It was wonderful running through the streets of London – my beloved home town – at night. Admiring the architecture in the city and around the river, under pretty lights. Everyone in the group was absolutely lovely. Checking that each other was alright and giving lots of encouragement. At times their attempts at conversing with me were fruitful. At other times I was so focused on not collapsing that I could only look ahead and grunt a response. As an urban running crew, RDC doesn’t do the jogging-at-traffic-lights thing that you often see. If the lights are red, we (*we*) just stop. And let me tell you, those red lights are a god-send.

My running stats, from Tuesday 21 February 2012 (I'm VERY excited about them)

I’m really proud to say that I completed the route, keeping up with the group all the way. (Luckily, I’d headed the earlier advice and lost most of my layers, socks and legwarmers – they would’ve pushed me over the edge.) But just as I was starting to mentally pat myself on the back, we passed Liverpool Street for the second time, on the return. Out of nowhere, this overwhelming wave of exhaustion just hit me and I realised I was completely spent. Myself and my new friend, Veema, looked at each other at exactly the same moment, expressing exactly the same thing – Oh my god, suddenly I don’t know if I can make this. It took every ounce of my being to run that final stretch, despite the brilliant encouragement that I was getting. As we reached the petrol station at the bottom of Shoreditch High Street – so close to base camp that I could practically see it, but still a million miles away – there were no traffic lights to save me and I just had to stop running – it was literally a ten second breather, to stop the pain. But nonetheless, I did stop. But Chaka wasn’t letting me off – not this close to the finish. His encouraging shouts of “C’mon, you can do it” made me dig deep, pick my knees up and run the rest of the way. Some of the others sprinted that last bit, but that was one 100m race I wasn’t going to win. I was just happy to get there. When I reached Nike 1948, I was too shattered to celebrate. I just lay down in the street, in agony, until someone advised me to get up and stretch it out straightaway: “Otherwise, you’ll never be able to get up again”.

After catching my breath, someone high-fived me. I’d done it.

4.37 miles, in 54:48 minutes, with an average pace of 12:31/mile. I was ecstatic.

And how apt that after all these years, it’s my mate from school, Charlie, that’s helping me rectify the mistakes of a lazy teenager. This time, I definitely don’t want to turn up just for the race. Each block, bridge and stretch of road that I ran with the Tortoises was a mini-milestone that we all achieved together – and I loved it every step of it.

I’m so proud to see the community that Charlie has set up, the philosophy that he is living to – and inspiring others to live to as well, especially the younger generation. And I’m honoured to have the opportunity to be part of it. Plus looking forward to getting to know the interesting people that I met on Tuesday. Despite my sore butt and aching thighs, I will definitely be there next week.

I love Social Media Week. Hundreds of great events, mostly free, in 12 cities around the world. Fantastic opportunities to learn new things, reinforce what you think you already know and meet lots of interesting, like-minded people. Everything on the schedule is good. But without a doubt, there are a few things that are just that little bit special.. On Tuesday night, I was lucky enough to photograph The Mask of Joy‘s fabulous Pleasure Garden Ball at the Museum of London (pics and more info on that to follow in a later post – although I will say for now that the production was outstanding). And then last night, I was one of the lucky few who’d snapped up a place on the food photography workshop organised by Great British Chefs (GBC).

As its CEO and founder, Ollie Lloyd, explained, GBC was set up as antidote to the rise of celebrity chefs, who can often be more about style over substance, rather than truly great food. He wanted to put a spotlight on some of the genuinely amazing chefs who are creating wonderful dishes around the country, and give them a forum for sharing their recipes and experiences.

Last night’s event was held at Tom’s Kitchen in Chelsea, owned by of one of the chefs that GBC works with, the legendary (and very cute) Tom Aikens.

Ollie Lloyd, CEO & Founder of Great British Chefs, centre back.

On arrival, we were greeted by GBC’s lovely Head of Social Media, Mecca Ibrahim, and a greatly-appreciated glass of wine. We all chatted amongst ourselves for a while and when the evening kicked off and I looked up, I was quietly excited to see Tom ‘amongst us’. After Ollie’s intro, Tom welcomed us to his place and talked a bit about his work with GBC, before returning to the kitchen where he was cooking up some wonderful dishes for us to photograph – and eat.

Photographer, David Griffen

Then it was over to the other star of the evening, the photographer, David Griffen. Cornwall-based David takes about 50% of GBC’s photographs and as such spends much of his time travelling the length and breadth of the country meeting chefs. The work on his website speaks very loudly for itself. It’s outstanding. So I was very excited to have this first rate photographer teaching us.

And like all good teachers, David did his preparation. He emailed us all in advance to find out what cameras we’d be bringing and what specific questions we’d want answered. The workshop had a particular focus on food blogging (it being Social Media Week, an’ all…), so, amongst other things, David was teaching techniques for taking food pictures in restaurant conditions – i.e. probably using your mobile phone, in low light, trying not to draw attention to yourself with a flash. It’s a subject that David knows well and has even dedicated a blog to. So he also sent us all links to useful photography phone apps that we could download in advance, for discussion on the night. I responded to his pre-event emails and not only did he take the time to reply to me, but throughout the event he told people they should contact him with any further questions.

The workshop was a three-hour, hands on guide to photography, from the  basics to the more complex. From advice on aperture and shutter speed, to lighting techniques and remote triggers. David covered a lot of ground and effortlessly answered the never-ending questions thrown at him by our group of 20+ people.

It was an evening packed full of tips, tipples and tasty, tasty food. And with the flowing wine and the interesting people, I feel extra spoilt to have also come away from it feeling as though I’d really learnt something (although, you may disagree, looking at my photos…).

Ollie and Mecca put on a fantastic event. Tom was a wonderful host – nice guy, great food, lovely venue, friendly staff. And David was a brilliant teacher. We even got handouts! We were all lucky to bag a place on this workshop. I’ve no doubt they’ll charge for it next year. And who could blame them.

When I was growing up, she had a huge impact on my life. It was the first and only time I could see a young black girl – someone who looked like me and was of a similar age – on television, being so successful in her own right. And with a talent, drive, pose and beauty to really aspire to. At the time, her race didn’t even seem come into it. Her voice and her personality over shone everything and you couldn’t help but be bewitched. Her songs were infectious. She was cute and great fun. Who didn’t want to be Whitney? Who didn’t love her?

Some of Whitney's Album Covers

Whitney & her daughter (© Steve Granitz)

From aljazeera.com's homepage

She sold over 170 million albums, singles and videos. And her last film, Sparkle, will be released later this year… Mad, sad, but true.. Here are just a few of her many, many, many highlights (where do you even start?…)

“I wanna Dance With Somebody” – wonderful song, great video. My youth.

And mature Whitney could also be fabulous – “It’s Not Right, But It’s Okay”

But let’s let her voice speak for itself. This is her isolated vocal track on “How Will I Know”

RIP Whitney Houston. We love you. I love you.

This lovely gentleman was chilling out in Spitafields market last Sunday, wearing this fabulous outfit.