Beestonia is Nine; Barton’s Summer Starts; I leave Beeston (except I don’t)

As usual, I start this post with an apology for taking so long to write anything new, but I’ve got some real good excuses. First, we have beaverd away getting Issue 9 ready, our second 8 pager and now looking frighteningly like a proper mag, and not a fanzine typeset by drunk squirrels who wanted to knock off early to get an acorn kebab. We even have a logo. And a proper Facebook page, which I do believe you should go and ‘like’ now. Go on. I’ll even give you a link to make it easier…

Best also mention that the new edition is officially out in a day or two: some teaser copies have been put out in Beeston already: well done if you found one: we’ll get the rest out soon. And if you really can’t wait….have a look at our page on the fantastic Issuu site:

We’ll be using this space to stick up stuff that we get up to, and of late that been lots and lots of shenanigans. Jubilee Sunday saw us pitch up at Bartons for the inaugural Not The Camden Market, where we once again spread out our massive table topper inviting Beestonians to tell us what Beeston means to them. You’ve not been shy about it, either, and we’re nearly full. I’ll be scanning the whole thing soon and sticking it on-line. It’s like a wordy Bayeux Tapestry without the violence and needlework.

Bartons also enticed us down to their new live music now, with two high-quality acts twanging their guitars to the evening’s theme, Americana. I have a real soft spot for Neil Young and Gram Parsons, so my foot was tapping as I swigged whiskey cocktails to Simon Stanley Ward, a precocious, fantastically shirted and sweetly voiced cowboy-hatted crooner, then Mcniff,who I’m afraid I remember less of because I started to feel the effect of the aforementioned cocktails and as such, have alcho-amnesia. My more restrained friends reckon he was very excellent though, and they seem to have a good degree of taste so I’ll take their word for it.

The actual venue was also a surprise: a bar has been built into the room, and it manages, through subtle lighting, to be both barn -like yet intimate. I’ve long espoused my excitement regarding the potential of Bartons, so I’m overjoyed to see it start to fulfill it. Even Sir Paul Smith thinks so:

paul smith bartons

The next live music night is on July 7th, and is themed Latin, so look forward to Gregorian chants from some bussed in monks South American grooves kicking out of Chilwell Road. Tickets, info etc just a click away:

Another source of distraction that has driven me from my duties to bang on about Beeston for the delectation of your Inbox has been my decision to move house. Again. This will be my 7th move since moving back to the Midlands 11 years ago, which started in a squat in Sandiacre, to a weirdly tall house in the Rylands, onto a incredibly brightly decorated house near Queen’s Road where I sub-let from this bloke who in turn let it from Cllr. Steve Barber, though I had no idea who he was back then; then a cottage on Derby Road ran by a man obsessed with conservatories, followed by Derby Street, Marlborough Road then Willoughby Street. I’m thorough, you can give me that.

So now I’m decamping to…well, when I tell people they react with horror as they believe it’s ‘Not Beeston’ or ‘It’s more like Attenborough’ and the even more damning ‘You’re becoming a Chilwellian’. No. All untrue. Beestonia has reach far wider than the unimaginative lines cartographers carve it up by. Theres a whole article on this, but to get to the gist: Sat Bains. The University Campus. Attenborough Nature Reserve/Erewash Fields. Possibly Wollaton Park. These are all Beestonia.

Plus, it’s a damn sight more central to things than our elected representative’s choice of home. Miaow.


Tomorrow I’ll be posting up  a fantastic article written by the ever talented sub-editor of The Beestonian, Tamar. It’s proper journalism, with research, interviews, uncovering of forgotten facts and with more style than Lord Byron riding a unicorn. Till then, tarah.