#your bus driver is Dave england | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

toyahinterviews · 2 years ago

Text

PARKINSON, BBC1, OCTOBER 1981

MICHAEL PARKINSON: First, a young woman whose vocal style could not be more different from that we just heard. Her style is theatrical, some might say bizarre. Her commercial appeal has given her three hit records this year. As an actress she's appeared on stage, screen and television. She was nominated as the Best Newcomer in Films at the Evening Standard Awards in 1980 for her performance as "Miranda" in "The Tempest" But this is the style that gets her into the Top 10 (The video for "Thunder In The Mountains" plays) Ladies and gentlemen, Toyah Willcox! You’ve changed your hairstyle since then TOYAH: Oh yes, I'll take my wig off. It’s my real hair now MICHAEL: That's a new one, is it? TOYAH: It's not new at all. I've had this since I was about 15 years old, seven years MICHAEL: When did you first start experimenting with your appearance?

TOYAH: Well, really it started when I was probably about 11 where I suddenly decided I wasn't going to wear any other colour for the rest of my life except black. And that's because I was just going through depression from growing up. I didn't like being told to wear uniforms at school and things like that So I used to sneak into school in my uniform - with my report card - because I was one of the naughty girls and I used to have to have a report card to say that I turned up and then I used to get changed into all black and I used walk around like a nun (they all laugh) A friend of mine, who is a hairdresser, said “I'll do your hair for free, but you've got to let me do to it whatever I want to do”. And I said, oh, okay. The first experiment he did was he shaved the back of my head and it didn't go down well at all with my mother MICHAEL: I bet it didn’t!

TOYAH: Not at all! I had a great pointed fringe and I've got naturally black hair, which I don't like at all so I decided to dye it pink. And my mother almost killed me that day MICHAEL: What was the effect that you had on the populace though - apart from your mum and dad - when you walked down the street with with a bald patch and all that? TOYAH: It was frightening. The bald patch came at a time when I was at drama school. I used to have to catch the bus to school every morning and I'd stand there all innocently smiling, being a nice person at the bus stop but I just happen to look like a freak. So the bus drivers - you’d put your hand out and you just saw them waving goodbye. They’d just go "goodbye" … and they’d be another finger involved ... DAVE ALLEN (guest on the show): Do you find people have made up their mind about you before because of your appearance? TOYAH: They could see me from miles away DAVE: Even now – do you feel people . . . ? TOYAH: They expect me to be instantly aggressive. They expect ignorance and perversity and so on. Like bleugh . . . just (for me) to be really horrible

MICHAEL: But what was the reason though? Why you decide to adopt this - TOYAH: Quite simply I don't like the natural colour of my hair. I think mentally I'm a brightly coloured person. So I thought if you're going to dye your hair why the hell dye it blonde or something? Why not be honest about it and dye it your favourite colour MICHAEL: You said that you were trouble at school - you went to a private school, to a Church of England School? TOYAH: Yes MICHAEL: You came from a very respectable middle class background - TOYAH: I am respectable I’ll have you know! (they all laugh) MICHAEL: She’s not aggressive, is she? (jokingly, they all laugh) Your parents were quite well off, weren’t they?

TOYAH: Oh yes. It was a typical middle class family (Toyah with her dad Beirc, below). I had really a very strict upbringing. I wasn't allowed out on my own until I was about 10 years old. I wasn't allowed to talk to the kids in the street because they had Birmingham accents and at that time I was talking like (puts on a posh accent) “Mommy, could have some sweeties, please?” I was just incredibly naive. It was my first experiences in the outside world that made me realise how protected I was I was genuinely quite shocked that each time I went on a bus with my school boater on (the school uniform hat) the girls from the other schools wanted to hit me. They were so aggressive towards me because they thought oh, she talks posh, parents have got money and they really disliked me for it. And that disturbed me greatly. When I first discovered sort of the class system, I just wanted to get out of that school

DAVE: Was there a conscious effort to join the other people? TOYAH: I didn't want to be judged by my parents property or by the colour of the uniform I wore. I wanted to be judged because I was me MICHAEL: It seems that you must have been an outsider not only outside school, but inside school? TOYAH: I was definitely an outsider. I had an incredibly bad lisp. I used to stutter, and I wasn't clever with words whatsoever. I was also very fat. The school bullies, who would come up to me, and they were quick with words, and I sort of just would stand there and go I want to get them back and I used to get so frustrated I just used to burst out crying And one day, after spending many years treading school every day, because I used to get bumped a lot and pushed around, I thought I just can't take this anymore. I'm going to jump out of a window or I'm going to kill someone. So I walked into the classroom to two particular girls jeering at me. And I sort of (puts her first up) yeah, come on then ... and I just snapped and picked up the chair and wolloped her DAVE: And you were fat at the time? So there was a lot of weight behind it? (they all laugh)

TOYAH: Yeah! But the sad thing was I had to do it that way. I couldn't do it with words. I disagree with that kind of violence greatly. But ever since that day, I was never picked on again. And I was the girl that everyone came to to sort other people out DAVE: I think that actually happens. I think where you're put to a point where all you can do is go forward - TOYAH: I was so frightened DAVE: People tend to leave you alone because you're breaking the rules. I remember getting chased by three kids and I thought what am I doing? I saw a big stick on the ground so I picked it up and I ran back towards them and they scattered because what was I doing?

MICHAEL: You’re the hardman. How did you in fact get into the business? Was that an ambition when you were at school?

TOYAH: Oh, it was an ambition. It started at a very early age, at about nine years. I was a dreadful liar at school. I was so bored the whole time. I just used to tell lies such as sorry I'm late, my mother got eaten by a shark (they all laugh) I used to get people buying presents because they thought I was leaving school the next week to go make a movie. And it kept the whole of this nine to five syndrome exciting because I hate that kind of timetable, that schedule I like to be totally unpredictable. I wanted to act and sing, I wanted to do both. But the greatest thing I wanted to do was sing. The reason I wanted to do that is because I was such a nervous child that I couldn't even sing in a choir. It meant so much to me that my voice would go and I'd shake and everything. I was quite a pathetic kid really. I went to drama school every weekend from the age of 14 upwards and when I left school with my one O Level, I went to drama school full time I was so well known in Birmingham because I looked like a freak. I mean to me I didn't look like a freak. To me I was just a nice colourful person, but so everyone in Birmingham I was either a prostitute, a mass murderer, or a complete hippie. It was just unbelievable. But my first break came when a director called called Nick Bicât was trying to find someone to cast in play

It was a half hour play for the BBC and he wanted a newcomer who could sing and he couldn't find anyone in London apparently so he came up to Birmingham and was asking around "do you know any sort of young girl that stands out in a crowd?" (Dave laughs, Toyah pokes her tongue at him) And the wardrobe department at the BBC, who knew me because I used to do extra work there to help get a bit of money for drama school, suggested me and the director came to see me and I got the job MICHAEL: And then of course you got the into the National Theatre very early on. How did you fit into the National Theatre looking like -

TOYAH: I’ve got to say it was wonderful. I don't like the building very much because it looks the same. It's all corridors and I used to keep getting lost. You'd run off stage for a quick change and find you're on the wrong floor. And you go which floor am I on and you could never find out until you found someone and said "excuse me, could you tell me where I am?" And you'd get a witty answer like "you're in the National Theatre" (they all laugh) You'd always be late for your cues on stage I was the youngest in the company. The loudest in the company. I think in the National Theatre, you're supposed to be a woman. You're supposed to have etiquette and to be silent until you're spoken to. But I instead was running around screaming at the top of my voice and being very vulgar because I am quite a vulgar person when I’m happy. My dressing room, I shared it with six other girls You used to look out into this well, all the dressing rooms aren't sort of surrounded and you could look up to the wardrobe department and scream for your dresser or you could look across to the next dressing room and watch the men get undressed. They used to do the same with us

Next door to us was Sir John Gielgud. And one day I was very late, the clocks went back and I forgot about it and I was late for the performance. I opened my window and shouted “where's my (bleep) dresser??!” I was really panicking and I was going “come down here for God's sake and help me!” And I got this phone call and I picked up the phone and there’s this very very posh voice on the other end and he said “excuse me, miss Willcox - did you know this is the National Theatre?” I went “of course I know it’s the National Theatre!” and I was looking across to see if one of the men were phoning me And he said, “well, this isn't a zoo. So could you stop acting like an animal please, Miss Willcox. You're in the National Theatre”. I was about to swear down the phone. I was going oh come off it! Who is this? And there's no men on the phone in the dressing rooms opposite and I suddenly realised it was Sir John and I went as white as a sheet and I thought my God, what am I going to do and I just went I'm very sorry and I put the phone down and I never shouted again in the National after that day

DAVE: The ghost of Sir John hovering - TOYAH: Yeah! He's the sort of person you instantly respect MICHAEL: What about the things that run side by side in your life? The actress - you work in the National, you’ve done Shakespeare, you shoot movies and that sort of thing and then the pop star. Is there a conflict in your life about the two? TOYAH: The only conflict is there's not enough time in the day to everything and I've got to do both. I'm trying to prove desperately that to act you don't have to look stereotype. I can look like this and still be an actress. Because I just plunk a wig on my head to hide the hair and everything. I love acting and I love singing but the only conflict is there’s just not enough time MICHAEL: I must confess, to be honest, as the father of young people playing your music . . . I am sort of baffled by its appeal - if I were to be frank … Do you have a purpose, like Dave said, as an entertainer, whose purpose is to entertain and to perhaps instruct people. Do you have that same purpose in your performance?

TOYAH: Oh, yeah. My purpose isn't so much political. There's so many problems in this world and kids are always being reminded that when you leave school there's going to be no work, or you're going to get mugged in the streets or something. I want kids to come along to my concerts and to forget all that. I want them to enjoy themselves. Because no matter how much unemployment (there is) etc etc you can still enjoy life. Life is very valuable I try to put that respect, that self-respect across to my audience that don't go around beating up black people and things like that. That's not what living is about. Living is about just being very happy and coping and being with each other and helping each other with your own problems. I know what you're getting at. You think the lyrics are very diverse MICHAEL: I think they're quite aggressive, some of them … and despairing TOYAH: I don't sit down to write and think oh, I'm gonna write about this today. I sit down with pen and paper and write the first thing that comes into my head. I find that me being aggressive and abusive to myself on stage gets the tensions out of the kids, and they sit and watch me do that to myself - what they they feel like doing half the time - and it sort of allows them to relax

MICHAEL: Isn't there always a problem of course with this unfortunate group of kids that you say you want to relate to … When they look at you onstage famous, wealthy. Do they disassociate themselves from you because you've got what they -

TOYAH: Oh God - they don't dissociate themselves at all. Number one, I do not put a barrier between me and the audience. Those audiences are - sounds a bit patronising - but they're my brothers and sisters, and I go in among them and I sort of touch them and they touch me, and that communication is so valuable. I'm nothing special. I'm flesh and blood like them. I have the same problems like them. I may be famous, but it doesn't mean you have the money. I just want to communicate with these kids. Get them to forget about all the horrible things MICHAEL: Do you think as you get older that the rebellious streak will soften? TOYAH: Oh God! I hope not! MICHAEL: You will be middle-aged with with a mortgage? TOYAH: Put it this way: I suddenly became famous this year and I've aged 20 years this year and it shows because the workload is much heavier. I don't think I will conform any more than I have. I've only conformed to sell more records really so I can keep the band going and that to me it's not too bad a sellout because that means I've got money to make albums, which I can be diverse on. If I ever have children it will be when I'm in my 30s I suppose … but I really would pity them because I get bored of things so quickly (they all laugh) MICHAEL and DAVE talk over each other

MICHAEL: Don’t change the hair on your head. Not for the moment anyway. Toyah Willcox, thank you very much indeed

#toyah #toyah interview #toyah 1981 #toyahinterview #toyahbbc #toyah bbc #toyah1981 #toyah willcox #toyahwillcox

0 notes

steveramsdale · 5 years ago

Text

The infected blog 9.13

It’s Saturday morning, the rain is pouring down and we’re in a B-movie version of an end-of-the-world film.

The blog has a virus. Of course I have to mention it because it has impacted everything. My working week has been the strangest in my life (so far). However, there is other stuff, too. If you are stuck at home, self-isolating, this may brighten up a few minutes of your day. Feel free to comment below, I’m isolated too, so would be happy to chat. If you print this, you could cut it in to squares and use it as emergency toilet paper. Think of that.

Seriously though, it seems much of the world is waking up to the need to slow the rate/flatten the curve. The UK’s health service was already beyond stretched before this. I hate to think how the health service here in Uzbekistan will cope. Schools and other educational institutions have be closed but much of life goes on as normal. We (staff) have been expected to go in to work and will be again after our Spring Break. It’s not really how this drive to slow the virus is supposed to work. I suppose we are all learning how to live in the ‘new normal’.

We had prepared our students for the possibility of a shut down (not quite well enough, as it turned out), but we didn’t know for sure on Friday that we’d be shut on Monday. The message came over the weekend, along with the instruction that ‘staff are expected to be in school’. We are using Google Classroom at the moment and we had made sure our students were logged in. It has turned out to be more fiddly for them to open and submit their work than we realised. On Wednesday we got the message that staff could not go in to school for the rest of the week. On Wednesday we could collect any resources we needed. I’d left my laptop, so I had a really good, really early walk to go and get it.

This coming week was or Spring Break anyway and we are definitely closed for at least another week after the break. So we’ll see. Just about everything else in Tashkent is business as usual but that could change.

I think that should be it for the infection in this blog. In other news....

Do you remember geocashing? I wonder if it has started in Tashkent. Last Saturday morning I was out for a walk and saw About 10 - 15 adults near Ecorn. They were looking in hedges and ditches, phones in hand. I wondered what it was then remembered the, seemingly brief, craze of geocaching. I could not think of another explanation but that doesn’t mean there isn’t one.

On Sunday morning, I decided to have a walk and bus ride (early so it wasn’t crowded. I went to Antract for the first time for ages. I was the only customer. I need to get a second gas refill for my camping cooker and wanted to see if any shops in that area might have them.

Since we came back this year, Heinz beans have disappeared and I have hardly seen any alternatives. This was before panic buying. I saw some Bonduelle beans in a supermarket Mairi will remember, so bought two tins. I also found two tins of the Heinz variety when sorting the stuff I’d taken from the van before the winter.

There is a real culture of repairing things in Uzbekistan. Still looking for gas, I went back to my old stomping ground (the bazaar at Yunusabad krug) and decided to get a repair done. I have a bag for the things I need to carry - keys, wallet, phone, you know. For a while it has been developing a problem: two parts of the strap have begun to fray a little. It looked untidy and would only get worse. Otherwise, the bag is perfectly fine. So, I had planned for a while to get a repair done. Now it has happened. The repair man cut strips of suede/leather, glued them along the fraying edges and then sewed up the fabric. The suede is almost identical in color to the strap, and I am neat again. People do get things repaired here where we would throw them away and buy new. While I was in the little booth, two old, battered pairs of shoes were being repaired. In the UK, they would have been thrown away months ago, but here, through necessity or habit, things get repaired. These little booths are everywhere. I have had zips repaired in boots for Mairi and Emily this year. These boots were otherwise perfectly wearable and the repair would have cost more than a new pair of boots in England. Here it cost about £5.

One day this week, a driver thought I was about 45 and a colleague was shocked that I was a grandfather. I’m wearing quite well.

As you know, the van has been in for the final interior work. On Tuesday evening, a message came through from Viktor, the van interior man, that he was almost done. He said he’d let me know on Wednesday when to come, but no message came through all day.

I bought toilet paper. I was not panicking as I did it. Well, I was a little bit. The four-packs in the brand I bought before were only in peach, which is not right for my bathroom, oh no. So, on the shelf below, there were plain white rolls. I pulled out a pack, only to realise that they were eight-packs. A woman stacking the shelves immediately pulled a pack that had been behind to the front of the shelf. I wanted to put it back because I didn’t think I needed an eight-pack, but panicked and did not want to disturb her shelf-stacking efforts, so took it anyway. I should be fine until (if I can) I leave Uzbekistan.

This week, I have also been feeding a cat. This is the cat who’s rescue you read about in previous blogs. She is now fit and healthy. My former colleague, Dave, was going away as their break was before ours. The cat’s normal routine is to be fed and put outside in the morning. He then feeds her again, letting her in after work. Dave has an enclosed garden which she would struggle to escape from at the moment. I initially said that I would go once a day, after work, but the new circumstances meant I have been able to go twice a day. I can walk in about 10 minutes from my flat. For reasons known only to her, and many other cats, she does not go to the toilet outside. Dave has a litter tray in the house which she uses once back inside. For a tiny cat, she produces an unbelievable amount of poo. I’ll be going latter for today’s breakfast.

On Thursday, the message did come to get the van. The job Viktor has done is astounding. I now have a front seat that turns into the ‘room’, curtains, carpeted and matted flooring in the front, a new ceiling lining, I can’t describe the difference. I bought the curtain fabric and there was enough for him to put a piece of it down the middle of the re-covered front seats. There are pictures and videos on my FB page. It is an incredible transformation. I hope you’ll see it one day, if the borders open again.

I went over to NBU on Friday to show off the van to people who remember the original and too see other humans! It was nice, I could borrow WiFi and keep in touch with my three or four students who are doing any work.

One little grammar thing I noticed spreading here recently. A few years ago, TV chefs started explaining how they ‘reduce down’ sauces and soups. I complained about this as my family will tell you. In what other direction, except down, can things reduce? This unnecessary multiplication of prepositions has increased (up). You may have noticed two. The ones have heard a lot here recently are ‘return back’ and ‘reply back’. I spoke to my friend Viktoriya about it when she said return back. She speaks very good English and helps me with Russian. She realised that it was unnecessary to add the ‘back’ but told me that it is done in Russian, too - вернуться назад - also unnecessary. However, if that’s all I have to worry about, I’m not doing too badly. Someone once said to me: “If you keep correcting people’s grammar, you’ll have less and less friends.” I replied, “know I won’t, I’ll have fewer and fewer friends”. I I’ve lost touch with that person. In the interests of the integrity of this blog, I have to say that that conversation never happened. But it could.

Well, that’s it from me.

The cat and the van.

0 notes

samanthasroberts · 7 years ago

Text

‘I know their vital stats, their romantic histories’: how Sunderland AFC saved me

For this Chinese Jewish Texan, England was a difficult place to feel at home. But all that changed when she discovered football

Thats shite, man! the man behind screams. The discontent in the crowd is reaching a critical mass. Useless twats, snarls a father below, opening a packet of crisps for his nine-year-old son.

I stand frozen, wrapped up in a scarf and down jacket. Who are we yelling at? Why are we so angry?

Its Boxing Day 2012 and Im at the Stadium of Light in Sunderland for my first ever football match. Its freezing cold; it begins to rain. And then it happens. A Sunderland player fires a shot that creeps past the Manchester City goalkeeper and into the bottom corner of the net. The stadium thunders as a sea of 46,000 bodies fall over each other, total strangers hugging their neighbours, while simultaneously jumping up and down. The man next to me screams so loudly in my ear that Im momentarily deaf. Then he turns me towards him, grabs my shoulders, locks eyes with me and shakes my body. Ahhhhhhhhhh! he screams, in happiness and disbelief.

Ahhhhhhh! I scream back, in fear.

***

When I moved to London, I got a job as a junior editor on a luxury lifestyle website. The site was run by a flamboyant man from Croydon named Carlos, with coiffed salt and pepper hair. Never one to pass up an opportunity to show off, Carlos liked to introduce me to visiting VIPs as our New Yorker who speaks fluent Mandarin and went to Harvard.

None of these things was true. I grew up in a small town in Texas: Amarillo. For some reason, Carlos didnt think this as impressive as being from New York (despite Amarillo being the helium capital of the world and the home of Tony Christies sweet Marie). As for fluent in Mandarin, my dad is Chinese, but I speak only broken Mandarin after living and working in Beijing for a few years. I didnt go to Harvard I was rejected but I did go to a university an hour away. None of these things made sense to Carlos, so he went with his own version.

My exchanges with Carlos were stilted. Our interactions ended in awkward silences. He was twice my age and we had nothing in common. But he was well known in London media circles and I was desperate to get him on side.

After Beijing, I assumed it would be a breeze to assimilate in a country where I no longer faced a language barrier. In China, I had spent a good amount of time miming my interactions. I also had to get used to Beijing locals asking me how much money I made, or telling me I was looking fatter than usual. But it was a bluntness I came to embrace: at least I knew where I stood.

Not so in London. The city was so rife with passive aggression that I didnt know when people were being rude or kind. A woman thanked me on the train for moving my bag and I was almost certain what she was really saying was too fucking right. A man squeezed by me on the escalator and the pitch of his seemingly polite May I? was so snide, it nearly brought me to tears. Carlos asked me if I want to do something for him at work and I wasnt sure if it was an order, a helpful suggestion or sarcasm. The words themselves were unfailingly polite, but it was all in the tone. Other Americans I knew suffered the same way. I genuinely dont know if my colleagues are making fun of me or being nice, a friend from Chicago confessed one night over drinks.

London can be a tough city for newcomers to crack. Compared with the US, people prefer to keep to themselves, especially in public. Im shy, so this was wonderful at first. No one approaches you to chat. I once fell in a crowded street in broad daylight and began the, Im fine, Im fine, honestly protest. But no one had stopped. I lay on the ground, impressed with peoples dedication to not getting involved with strangers. I began to think that I might never find a way to break through the famous British reserve. Would I ever find common ground with Carlos? If only there was some magic key.

And then one day, I witnessed a man bite another man on live TV. This happened during a football match that was on in a pub I happened to be in. I was immediately intrigued: by the biting, the drama, the getting caught, the primal emotion of the incident. I didnt realise it at the time, but this was it: my in.

On a bus, I sat with a couple of friends who were discussing live scores; soon, the entire upper deck had joined the conversation. It was like a portal to another dimension in which everyone was chatty, friendly and open on public transport.

Football was everywhere, it turned out. Once I noticed this, I began to absorb football facts, though only certain things stuck. I loved it when footballers cried. Maybe it was the persistent myth of the stiff upper lip but seeing a player moved to tears, to me, showed he cared more than anyone else. It wasnt like watching an actor pretend to tear up. This shit was real.

I loved any sort of drama on and off the pitch. Family tensions, love problems, scandals, shoving matches; before long, I became a reliable source of useless, soap opera-esque information about players.

I also became a fervent Sunderland supporter. Why would a Chinese girl from Texas living in Highbury, north London, become a Sunderland supporter? Because I had married one. Ian, born and bred in Sunderland, talked about his teams players as if they were his family. That made them my family, too. I knew their names, their shirt numbers, their vital stats, their romantic histories. I was also a natural fit for Sunderland because I love an underdog and by God, I had chosen the underdog of underdogs. The big clubs, with their expensive superstars, were boring to me. Our wins were rare, but they were so much sweeter for it.

I watched televised matches, sometimes without Ian if he was busy or out of town, something that had my friends and family baffled. During visits home to Texas, Ian and I zealously woke early to catch the Sunderland game. My father would observe me, puzzled. My mother, who is Jewish, was also bewildered but said, Well, you were the most athletic of our family of klutzes. It was my childhood best friend Jori who called me out. We were in a Waffle House diner surrounded by grassy plains. I asked Ian if he knew how Sunderlands relegation rivals had fared in their six-pointer, when she interrupted me. Are you talking about British soccer? Who are you? I told her the truth: Im just a girl, standing in front of the TV, hoping a footballer scores a winning goal in the last minute of a high-stakes match and then weeps about it.

A young fan lets rip as Sunderland take on Man United. Photograph: Getty

Do you know who really liked football? Carlos. We soon developed a rapport. Every Monday, hed rush to my desk and wed discuss the weekends matches. He was obsessed with playing style, formations and league tables. Meanwhile, I was the expert on the fights, the crying and the hissy fits. Suddenly, we were friends. He wasnt just my scary boss who got annoyed that I didnt know who Lynyrd Skynyrd were. We were bonding.

They say that to assimilate in a foreign country, you have to speak the language, and now I finally did. Did I make friends from learning about football? I would go out on a limb and say that yes, I did. I made friends with Dave at the Three store when I sat there for two hours after accidentally flushing my phone down the toilet. I bonded with a Ghanaian driver as we discussed a former Sunderland player from his country. In a hotel in the Lake District, there was a communication breakdown with a concierge that ended happily when we both agreed that Diego Costa was a jerk and Jermain Defoe a great goal scorer. When cab rides were too silent, no problem. Lets talk about the match, driver.

***

Dinner in the north-east of England is different from dinner in Texas. Here the food is cooked well-done, the weather is colder and greyer, the company more polite, the table quieter.

Ians dad, brother and uncles are lifelong Sunderland season ticket holders. Ask them a question about what they want to eat, or their favourite movie, or their preference for boxers or briefs, and they will reply, Im easy. Suggest that Jack Rodwell is a decent footballer and they are unleashed animated, passionate, opinionated. I enjoy bantering with Ians brother and dad about football, but we argue a lot mostly because there is one thing I havent been able to wrap my head around since my first game.

After that first Boxing Day match, on the walk from the Stadium of Light to the car with Ian, his dad, his uncle and his brother, I ask the question thats on my mind.

Why do we yell mean things at our own players?

Silence. And then: They just didnt show up. For most of the match, they were bloody awful, Ian says. Good use of we, though, he adds.

But shouldnt we be supporting them? Encouraging them?

Ian shakes his head and sighs.

You know, like being positive and lifting them up? I was still trying to make sense of why 46,000 people would call themselves supporters when they gave the most vitriolic, abusive commentary on their own players. Their support was downright terrifying.

This was your first match, Jess. Weve suffered years of pain while watching players go through the motions. Ive been enduring this for 25 years, Ian says. Twenty-six years, Ians older brother says. His dad: Try 60 years. And finally, I understand the British subtext: You are a wide-eyed idiot.

You got me into this: Jess with her husband, Ian. Photograph: Pal Hansen for the Guardian

At my high school in Texas, there was a club called Senior Spirits. Senior Spirit members met to boost the egos of our sports teams and rally other students to support those teams. To quote from the yearbook, their mission was to make posters and give our school spirit. In the photo, a group of 20 girls wearing matching T-shirts and ponytails, grin at the camera, 100% heartfelt.

These werent cheerleaders. And they werent affiliated with the Steppers, the ultra-serious dancers who performed at pep rallies, the hour-long ceremonies dedicated to whipping up school spirit. Nor were they the student marching band that played during football matches to help stoke, yes, even more team spirit. Team spirit was like an elusive ghost permeating the school and we all had to worship it.

That spirit was partial to posters with marker pen and glitter, to ponytails, to cakes shaped like American footballs and prayers before the big game. It revelled in exclamation marks. It did not like folded arms and booing and sarcasm. It did not like being called a useless twat.

Apparently team spirit isnt a thing in north-east England. So how do English secondary schools pump up their sports teams? I imagine the halls of these schools are lined with posters of a different sort: You better not screw this up, Jones! and Dont do any of that long-ball shit, Gibbons.

I still struggle with this complete inversion, but it unlocked something core in the English mentality how ingrained the cynicism is, as well as the tendency to proceed from a position of cautious defeat. Expect to lose so it hurts less when it happens, and if we win, no harm done.

Diehard football fans remain sceptical of me. At matches, I ask questions. I get looks when I yell cheerful encouragement. I cant stop shouting, At least you tried! every time a player takes a shot but fails to score. Some have the gall to question my passion for football until I do well at the pub quiz football round. If you love something, does it matter if you love it for all the wrong reasons? Apparently, to them, yes. But one thing was for sure: I was emotionally committed.

In May 2016, at the end of that years season, Sunderland were on the brink of doom, as we are every year. Hundreds of fans gathered at the Old Red Lion in Angel, north London, for one of the last matches of the season. I am 5ft 2in, so I left Ian and his friends and waded through Mackems to get to a good vantage point to watch the match. We were playing Everton, and this would seal everything: would we stay up and relegate bitter rivals Newcastle in the process?

Awaydays at the Drayton Park pub in north London, before taking on Arsenal at the Emirates. Photograph: Pal Hansen for the Guardian

The first time we scored, someones pint of beer, spilt in jubilant joy and shock, doused my head. On the second goal, the shouts were deafening. On the third, a man threw his arms around me and together we jumped up and down and screamed with pure joy. I left the pub dazed, half-deaf, hair soaked in booze and my face aching from smiling.

I became a UK citizen last year. At a city town hall, I swore my allegiance to the Queen and stumbled through the national anthem with 17 other newly minted UK citizens. But that moment didnt come close to the buoyant feeling of pure joy and belonging I felt in the arms of a stranger as we celebrated the victory of our beloved team. If the root of football passion is said to be a sense of family and place, then this Chinese Jewish Texan has found her new home.

Unfortunately, that home is sometimes a den of pain and despair. By the time you read this, we will have played three Championship matches in the new season. Ian assures me we will not have won one: Sunderland havent won a league game in August or September for four years in a row.

In April this year, we were finally relegated from the Premier League with four matches left to play.

Useless losers! I yell at the players as Sunderland fail to score even one goal. Its all over. Nothing to hope for now, no Match Of The Day to look forward to.

As I shout at the players, Ian pats me hard on the back. Well done, he says. I look at him, confused. Now you know what it feels like to hate your own team.

Commenting on this piece? If you would like your comment to be considered for inclusion on Weekend magazines letters page in print, please email [email protected], including your name and address (not for publication).

Source: http://allofbeer.com/2017/09/17/i-know-their-vital-stats-their-romantic-histories-how-sunderland-afc-saved-me/

from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2017/09/17/i-know-their-vital-stats-their-romantic-histories-how-sunderland-afc-saved-me/

0 notes

allofbeercom · 7 years ago

Text

‘I know their vital stats, their romantic histories’: how Sunderland AFC saved me

For this Chinese Jewish Texan, England was a difficult place to feel at home. But all that changed when she discovered football

Thats shite, man! the man behind screams. The discontent in the crowd is reaching a critical mass. Useless twats, snarls a father below, opening a packet of crisps for his nine-year-old son.

I stand frozen, wrapped up in a scarf and down jacket. Who are we yelling at? Why are we so angry?

Ahhhhhhh! I scream back, in fear.

***

A young fan lets rip as Sunderland take on Man United. Photograph: Getty

***

Dinner in the north-east of England is different from dinner in Texas. Here the food is cooked well-done, the weather is colder and greyer, the company more polite, the table quieter.

After that first Boxing Day match, on the walk from the Stadium of Light to the car with Ian, his dad, his uncle and his brother, I ask the question thats on my mind.

Why do we yell mean things at our own players?

Silence. And then: They just didnt show up. For most of the match, they were bloody awful, Ian says. Good use of we, though, he adds.

But shouldnt we be supporting them? Encouraging them?

Ian shakes his head and sighs.

You got me into this: Jess with her husband, Ian. Photograph: Pal Hansen for the Guardian

Awaydays at the Drayton Park pub in north London, before taking on Arsenal at the Emirates. Photograph: Pal Hansen for the Guardian

In April this year, we were finally relegated from the Premier League with four matches left to play.

Useless losers! I yell at the players as Sunderland fail to score even one goal. Its all over. Nothing to hope for now, no Match Of The Day to look forward to.

As I shout at the players, Ian pats me hard on the back. Well done, he says. I look at him, confused. Now you know what it feels like to hate your own team.

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/2017/09/17/i-know-their-vital-stats-their-romantic-histories-how-sunderland-afc-saved-me/

0 notes

itsworn · 7 years ago

Text

A Look at Two LS Powered GM Pickup Trucks

When did half-ton pickup trucks become so cool? Probably about the same time folks realized they offer the same level of style and rear wheel drive performance potential as traditional 2-door coupes, sedans and convertibles, but for a fraction of the buy-in cost. We get it, too. Who needs a numbers matching, 1965 Tri-Power GTO, Hemi Road Runner or Mustang Cobra Jet when a tenth of the cash will buy any number of desirable V8 powered late model half-tonners? Add a few bolt-on goodies and these LS (GM), Modular OHC (Ford) and Gen III Hemi (Ram) V8 powered pickups can be just as quick and nimble as any classic muscle car.

Okay, we lied. We’d love a vintage Goat, ‘Runner or ‘Stang, but you cannot deny that pickups are the budget Car Crafter’s best friend. Done right, they combine the best traits of a hot rod, daily driver and parts hauler, all in one (just ask Truck Norris). In this story, lets’ examine a pair of potent but stealthy LS powered GM pick ‘em ups assembled from loose parts by the guys at NextGen performance in Spencer, Massachusetts. The money man behind this pair of trucksters is Mike “Tarmac Daddy” Shea. As one of the principles at Palmer Paving – a giant New England road surface contractor – Shea insisted on daily-driver reliability, and he got it. He also got more than twice the power of a stock truck, thanks to a smart combination of refurbished stock and inexpensive add-on parts. Lets’ have a look.

The Orange Monster 2002 GMC Sierra 1500, turbo 6.0 452 hp / 473.8 lb/ft

With its’ Safety Orange paint, blinking roof-top orange safety beacon and spoof door insignias (they read Department of Turbocharging), this utilitarian Jimmy would look right at home on a construction site lugging plywood, bags of cement, and other tools of the trades. However, this is one Sierra that’s been reformulated especially for play time.

Under the hood rests a totally stock iron block 6.0 that’s been fitted with a home-brewed turbo kit that kicks 452 hp and 473.8 lb/ft to the rear tires. Originally built in Ft. Wayne, Indiana by GM Truck and Bus plant workers, the stock drivetrain consisted of a 5.3 V8 and 4L60E automatic. Hoping to offset any potential turbo lag, NextGen swapped in a few more cubes via a refreshed – but otherwise stone stock – 6.0 liter.

Best of all, the 5.3 and 6.0 motor mounts are identical so it was a drop-in maneuver. The central nervous system (wiring harness and ECU) from a 2001 one-ton 2500 HD Silverado pickup connect the truck’s heart and body. And while the 5.3’s 4L60E 4-speed automatic can be beefed, a freshly rebuilt 4L80E went under the cab instead to squash any doubts.

Since GM only installs the burly 4L80E in ¾-ton-and-larger pickups, which take a different transmission cross member, Buzzell adapted the 4L80E mount to the 4L60E cross member. Conveniently, GM designed the cab floor tunnel to clear either transmission, so the only remaining detail was shortening the driveshaft by 2 inches and upgrading from 1330 to 1350 U-joints and yokes. Driveshaft Dave from Fleet Pride in Millbury, MA handled the chore.

Out back, the stock 30-spline, 8.5 inch rear axle – which GM Truck and Bus delivered with a 3.42 ratio and centrifugal-type locking differential – is retained. Buzzell says: “As weird as this differential is, with its centrifugal weight and dog gear setup, I’ve never broken one in general high performance use. Naturally, if you mount sticky drag slicks chances of breakage go way up, but for this purpose the stock locker is up to the job”.

And while the empty cargo bed, live axle, and increased power can trigger axle hop in most modified pickup trucks, the stock Silverado / Sierra staggered rear shock absorber layout (the driver side is mounted behind the axle centerline, the passenger side shock ahead of it) does a fine job of keeping the tires planted. Did the original 396 big block Camaro use a similar staggered-shock setup for the same reason? Yes it did.

NextGen’s Eric Buzzell says, “About the most complicated detail was fabricating and welding the passenger side exhaust manifold out of 304 stainless steel materials, and plumbing the turbo and intercooler systems”. Behind the wheel, the odd thing is how quiet the Orange Monster is. As with any tuned-up Buick turbo V6, it is possible to run without a muffler since much of the exhaust sound is absorbed by the turbocharger. That allowed installation of a Doug Thorley electric exhaust cut-out. When open, the stock single exhaust system is bypassed and the turbo spins up a little bit quicker.

Hardly a show poodle, this daily driven truck’s cooling duties are handled by the stock 5.3 V8 radiator (re-cored) and electric fans from a 2002 LS1 Camaro donor. It surprised us to learn that GM employed mechanical cooling fans on pickups all the way up to 2005. Ridding the serpentine belt accessory drive from this task sent an extra 15 horsepower to the rear tires. Ahead of the radiator, an eBay sourced intercooler helps maintain maximum charge density. With its stock steel wheels, Safety Orange paint and austere vibe, more than a few ZO6 drivers have watched the Orange Monster pull away on the open highway.

2004 Chevrolet Silverado; The Red Herring LSA supercharged 5.3 410.13 hp / 422 lb/ft.

Back in 2014, GM issued a factory service bulletin recalling nearly 20,000 2009-2013 CTS-V Cadillacs and 2012-2013 ZL1 Camaros. Though each was powered by the mighty Eaton-supercharged 6.2 liter LSA engine, a little item called the torsional isolator had a tendency to loosen up and rattle at idle. The affected superchargers didn’t stop working, they just made noise…more noise than a Caddy CTS-V owner wanted to hear while arriving at the country club valet parking station. The resulting warranty repair campaign (as described in GM Service Bulletin number 13313) put thousands of otherwise good superchargers on the used parts market.

The guys at NextGen Performance were ahead of the curve with a simple kit designed to allow fitment of these surplus belt-driven LSA blowers atop serviceable boneyard 5.3, 5.7 and 6.2 LS2 and LS3 V8’s. All it took was a quick drive coupler fix and these blowers were ready to breathe new life – and power – into LS engines on the cheap. (Read more information on that here)

The Red Herring Silverado was an early recipient of this NextGen LSA supercharger swap kit. Knowing the belt-driven LSA supercharger can produce boost sooner than an exhaust-driven turbocharger, the Red Herring’s stock displacement 5.3 liter LS was retained after some basic refurbishment. To bolster the crank-mounted pulley for the added duty of turning the Eaton supercharger, the crank snout and pulley were machined for a drive pin. Otherwise, the stock hydraulic roller cam (with LS6 valve springs added) and related bits were retained.

Another budget-motivated departure from the Orange Monster was keeping the stock 4L60E automatic transmission, but sending it to Maine Transmission Rebuilding where Eric Engel swapped in heftier bands, clutches, drums and a five-gear planetary from a 4L65E. This added a margin of safety without breaking the bank.

The stock 1,800 rpm stall speed torque converter – complete with functional lock-up feature – was retained as was the 8.5 inch rear axle. Still equipped with the centrifugal-type locker unit, a stroke of luck back in 2004 resulted in factory installation of somewhat uncommon 3.73 rear axle ratio. This helps the low end surge off the line but thanks to the overdrive top gear, doesn’t penalize the sedate highway manners of the LSA boosted 5.3.

Like the turbocharged Orange Monster, the supercharged Red Herring can fry the rear tires at will, but there’s a more obvious high performance mood on board. Much of it stems from the constant supercharger whine and burbling side-exit exhaust system. Both trucks carry factory-issue four wheel disc brakes with functional ABS. The subtly slammed Red Herring sits on Belltech spindles, shocks, springs and shackles. Just an inch lower than the Orange Monster, which received a two-inch lowering kit from McGaughy.

Either way, turbocharged or supercharged, an LS powered pickup truck represents a fantastic value for the performance seeker who also needs to get some work done. Plus, with their overdrive-equipped transmissions and stock cam timing, both examples depicted here can nudge 20-mpg when driven gently on the open road. Think it over, a fun truck might be your cure for the overpriced muscle car blues!

A former highway department fleet truck, the orange hue is factory original. It’s funny, when applied to GM muscle cars, it was called Hugger Orange (Z/28) and Carousel Red (GTO Judge). But when the exact same paint formula appeared on International Harvester vehicles, it was aptly named Safety Orange. Here SMG Motoring’s Fred Simmons watches as the Orange Monster cranks 452 horsepower on SMG Motoring’s Dynojet.

Truck sourced LS blocks might be 60 pounds heavier, but their cast iron construction adds rigidity and a better rebuild factor than car-sourced LS1 aluminum alternates. The stock throttle body and intake manifold are well suited to the 76 millimeter On-3 Performance turbocharger.

Eric Buzzell is a thinking man but admitted to “positioning the turbo where it fit best”. The braided oil feed line assures lubrication while the exhaust housing wrap reduces heat radiation to vulnerable surfaces.

Skipping fashion for function, dress-up goodies were intentionally ignored. The Turbosmart WG45 waste gate is set to pop at 7.0-psi.

Buzzell crafted the turbo-feed exhaust manifold from CNC plasma-cut 304 stainless plate and a pile of raw mandrel-bent tubing. The outside diameters range from 1-7/8 to 3.0 inches. The stock coil-near-plug ignition is fully up to the task.

The turbo runs so quietly, the Doug’s Headers plate-type electric exhaust cut-out is usually left open. Buzzell says: “You can definitely feel the extra power when it is open”.

Sandwiched between the radiator and grille, the intercooler helps maintain charge density moving down the road.

The stock 8.5-inch rear axle and its 3.42 gears remain untouched. Tough enough for street use, all parties agree its lifespan wouldn’t be long with sticky drag slicks. We dig the staggered shocks and single tailpipe.

Inside, can you spot the circular turbo boost gauge? It’s the only hint of the performance lurking under hood. The 6,000 rpm factory tachometer is accurate and a far cry from the rinky dink optional tachs from the sixties and seventies.

The in-house graphics department at Palmer Paving had some fun with the door insignias. The 1953 marking alludes to truck owner Mike Shea’s birth year.

The Dynojet chassis dyno curves (torque is the top line) show how quickly boost comes on then stays strong. Turbo lag is absent.

Sitting a bit lower on its Belltech-fortified suspension, the supercharged Red Herring is seen on the SMG Motoring Dynojet while making 410 horsepower and 422 lb/ft at the tires with 8 pounds of boost (stock). If this was a 6.0 instead of a 5.3 long block, chances are the output would be virtually the same as the Orange Monster. Both trucks use ARP head studs and LS9 gaskets to contain the boost.

Looking like the Ft. Wayne assemblers put it there on day one, the LSA-sourced supercharger is the simpler installation of the two. There’s no turbo or external plumbing to mount. You could almost install an LSA blower without pulling the engine…almost. The big snag is the need to add a pulley drive pin to the crank snout. It’s not easily done leaning over the fender or working on your back.

GM used two different intercoolers on the LSA. The black powder coated unit with ribs (shown) came on ZL1 Camaros (580 hp) and feed the liquid intercooler from the front of the engine. The Caddy CTS-V-sourced units (556 hp) have a non-ribbed, cast aluminum cover and feed liquids from the rear, where they hassle with the firewall. For easier installation, NextGen prefers the Camaro unit (shown).

Eric holds the item responsible for the landslide of warranty take-off LSA blower units. It’s a spring-damped torsional isolator and is meant to buffer harmonics between the blower drive pulley and internal rotors. Unfortunately the spring eats into the plastic housing and causes unpleasant noises. NextGen replaces the unit with a solid piece and the problem is solved.

“Hmmm, if we can figure a way to mount dirt cheap LSA superchargers onto garden variety 5.3 and 6.0 LS engines, we might be onto something”. Here, NextGen’s Eric Buzzell considers the possibilities. Note the Caddy-spec smooth top intercooler lid.

Though I.C.T. Billet already offered adapter-plate kits to match the truck heads’ cathedral ports to the LSA-spec rectangle port openings, NextGen tackled the accessory drive belt problem. Here’s the prototype plate supporting the alternator and idler pulley. It was made by NextGen CNC machinist Jeremy Farrow. Look for a full story here.

The twin exhaust tips emerge ahead of the passenger side rear tire. Note the grippy tread on the General Grabber UHP 275/55R-17 rear tires.

The Chevy and GMC interiors are virtually identical, and even share the 6-grand tach. The column shifter connects to a fortified 4L60E transmission with manual-shift capability.

Born with 3.73 cogs instead of the usual 3.42’s, the rest of the Red Herring’s rear axle remains stock. The Belltech 4 inch drop kit takes lowering to the limit before frame notching is required.

As engine speed rises, so does boost as the Eaton huffer reaches 8 psi. The torque curve is on top.

Many Car Crafters of a certain age worry that the younger generation isn’t interested in keeping the flame alive. Fear not, if brothers Josh and Eric Buzzell (L and R) are any guide, the future of hands-on hot rodding is safe. They founded NextGen Performance 3 years ago and specialize in LS conversions. Always busy with new customers, when we photographed this story, a customer dropped off a Porsche 911 – for an LS7 swap! If you’ve got a shop like NextGen in your area, support them. They’re the future.

Tech Notes

Who: Both trucks are owned by Mike “Tarmac Daddy” Shea of Ware, Massachusetts What: Turbo: 2002 GMC Sierra 1500 “Orange Monster” / Belt: 2004 Chevy Silverado “Red Herring”, Turbo vs Belt Where: NextGen Performance, Spencer, MA

Engine: Turbo: The Orange Monster is powered by a refreshed but stock 6.0 liter truck mill with an iron block, aluminum heads and factory-issued hydraulic roller cam. LS6 valve springs, LS9 head gaskets and ARP head studs are the only fortifications. Belt: The Red Herring packs an internally stock iron block / aluminum head 5.3 liter truck engine, also with ARP head studs, LS9 head gaskets and LS6 valve springs. Induction: Turbo: Stock throttle body and intake manifold, On-3 Performance 76 millimeter turbocharger, 80-lb. injectors, mounts and 304 stainless plumbing fabricated by Eric Buzzell using parts from Napa, Russell, Turbosmart and Vibrant. A Walbro fuel pump and kit, K&N air filter and Snow water-methanol injection system round things out. Belt: Stock Camaro/Cadillac LSA supercharger warranty take-off unit, Corvette ZR1 65-lb. injectors, ICT intake manifold port adapter plates, pin added to bolster blower drive pulley to crank snout union, accessory drive brackets adjusted to increase belt wrap area on pulley. K&N air filter, intercooler, Snow water-methanol injection system. Chassis Dyno Output: Turbo: 452.1 hp and 473.8 lb-ft. Belt: 410.1 hp and 422 lb-ft. Ignition/ECU: Turbo: NGK TR-6 spark plugs, Belt: NGK TR-6 spark plugs, MSD Street Fire wires. Exhaust: Turbo: NextGen custom passenger-side 1-7/8 inch tubular exhaust manifold, stock driver side manifold, remote-control Doug’s Headers electric muffler bypass plate, stock GM muffler with full-length single exhaust, Pypes exhaust hangars. Belt: Stock 5.3 exhaust manifolds, single Dynomax Super Turbo muffler with 2-1/2 inch side-exit tips. Driveline: Turbo: Rebuilt 4L80E automatic, stock 1,800 rpm stall speed torque converter, stock transmission cooler. A custom length 3.00-inch diameter driveshaft links to the stock 8.5-inch rear axle with factory locker and 3.42 gears. Belt: An upgraded (4L60E to 4L65E) transmission works with a stock torque converter to send twist into the 8.5-inch rear end’s 3.73 gears and centrifugal-type sprag locker. Chassis: Both trucks ride on their stock frames and general suspension systems. Sure there’s lots of surface rust scale from a decade of New England winters, but ants, road kill and worms haven’t complained yet. Suspension: Equipped with highly evolved A-arm front suspension systems and tight rack and pinion steering, modern 2WD GM pickups require minimal upgrades for improved street handling. The Orange Monster has a McGaughy 2 inch lowering kit all around while NextGen took the Red Herring further with a 2 inch / 4 inch (front / rear) drop kit from Belltech. Brakes: Modern GM pickup braking systems have come a long way since the days of manual drums. Both trucks retain the stock four wheel power disc brakes though the Orange Monster has a Hurst line-lock to help build boost off the line. Wheels/Tires: The General Motors Truck and Bus plant originally shipped both trucks with 16×7 inch pressed steel rims and non-performance 255/70R-16 S-rated radial tires. In 2005 GM stepped up to standard 17 x 7.5 hoops, which stand ready to accept a wider range of high performance rubber. NextGen equipped both trucks with ’05-up 17×7.5 inch rims and General Grabber UHP tires. To achieve a big-and-bigger stance, front / rear tire sizes are 255/60R-17 and 275/55R-17 on both trucks.

The post A Look at Two LS Powered GM Pickup Trucks appeared first on Hot Rod Network.

from Hot Rod Network http://www.hotrod.com/articles/look-two-ls-powered-gm-pickup-trucks/ via IFTTT

#IFTTT #Hot Rod Network

0 notes