Bear blog

They're a strange bunch, these unicyclists. It didn't really strike me as that terrible last year, but really. They're just awful.

Who gets up at 8.30 on a Saturday? To eat cereal, of all things. And not one of them (other than maybe Parry) looked particularly rough. That's because they all went to bed at 10. On mass. After spending a terribly enjoyable night at the ceilidh. Dancing like fools while some fat old bloke with thinning hair tapped his foot.

I had quite a good Friday night, however. Roger directed us to the lamest take-away emporium ever. One curry place (well and truly closed), one chinese place (about five seconds away from closing and considerably irritated at Dave placing an order) and one pizza place (open, but a bit shit). Getting five people rammed into Rob's car was fun though. Especially when we started giggling like school-girls at his driving. As it turns out, donner meat and chips is quite good juggling fodder. Greg handed me over my shiny new Henry Circus clubs. I ordered nine but got given seven and the promise of more to come. Fair enough. They were irritatingly new and shiny though so we spent the rest of the night battering them. Or rather Dave and Parry did. I think they were pretending to be Get The Shoe. I don't think they quite had the chemistry though. Bless.

After a few words of advice from Mamph and Rob I am now officially learning 4 clubs. And very well, too. 37 catches by Saturday teatime. Get in. I'm aiming for 50 within the next week, just to piss off Darren. How long did that take you again, mate?

I think what I liked so much about Friday night was that after the Ceilidh poeple had packed up and gone home, and all the little unicycle people had tucked themselves up in bed, there were just juggly people left. And I like them, me. And there was space. Space enough to prat about and juggle and sit down for a bit, n'allsorts. It makes a change. Saturday wasn't much worse though. Credit where credit's due, the Billingham team have a site that is fit for purpose. Last year I got incredibly pissed off that once the hockey had got going on Saturday there was absolutely nowhere to do anything else for the rest of the weekend. Not so in Billingham. Hockey in one hall, unicyclists in another, me in the third. It worked very well. I got to see a bit of the freestyle comps too. Maddy was my convention highlight with her doubles act. I don't know who she was doubling with, unfortunately. Some random. They were very good though, and stuck it to the establishment good and proper. As is only correct. "Mount a unicycle? You're so unhip I'm surprised you can walk!" Round of applause. Mad cheering. Standing ovation. Bravo.

I decided not to do the show this year. It wasn't sounding promising and from the sound of it I really didn't miss much. The only thing I would have possibly liked to see again was Lucus' routine which suitably impressed me earlier in the afternoon. It makes a change to see a unicyclist with an act, rather than just performing trick after mind-numbing trick. He had a costume and everything. And called attention to his crotch. Two absolute musts for any act.

It's pretty much a given now that I won't be going to another BUC. Yes, it's nice that it's a convention with food thrown in (almost literally) but I am a juggler. I do not get up early, and although I do go to bed quite early in deference to my wonderful complexion and cheery demeanour I passionately hate the enforced routine of BUC. It simply doesn't suit me. Conventions are for dossing around and chatting to people, and occasionally juggling or riding just to fill in the gaps. I don't want to be ferried from workshop to competition to hockey match to lunch to workshop to competition to dinner to show all weekend. Where's the fun in that? Being charged £40 for the privilege irks me somewhat too.

Still, less than three weeks to Bungay now. I'm planning on ploughing through all the terribly stressful things I need to do this year before we go down there in order that Suffolk's relaxing natural vapours might soothe away my frustrations. That's BUC well and truly ticked off the list, anyway. Now, buying a house...

Saturday was another quiet day for me. Alan buggered off into town and then sodded off home straight after the show so I didn't do any proper passing all day. Rob helped me out with seven club ultimates. "Floorty like." He gave me a couple of things to think about, but I still hate it. It's a horrible pattern and I'll never ever like it. Ever.

After the show I did a bit of passing with Roger and Rod and realised the extent to which I've improved over the past week. Which is quite a nice feeling. Oh, and remember those Beard clubs of mine? Broke another one. That's four in four days and quite frankly enough. I ordered myself a set of Henry Classics to pick up at BUC next week. Problem solved. So now I've just got to work out how I'm going to unload myself of six pretty knackered Beard clubs. Hmmm.

Dave, Pete, Tom and I discovered the fabulous game of high-speed crash mat tumbling. Highlights included watching Dave's legs waggle furiously from the innards of a big crash mat sandwich and then seeing him racing towards the mats on the unicycle and getting his lace caught in the pedal about a metre away from the mats, but just close enough that his belly-flop face-plant was well enough cushioned. It could have been nasty but the ten minutes it took him to extricate himself from the unicycle was hilarious.

I had a bit of a power nap on top of the crash mats and then Dave, Phil and Camille joined me for chips and blue slush for lunch. Nyum nyums. Then Camille and I sat and watched Dietz being ridiculously good. I think his powers lie in his sensible German shoes. Or it could be the combination of sensible shoes, luminous yellow short-shorts and superman t-shirt. Bless him. Whatever sympathy you might feel for him for being an autistic looking German evaporates instantly when he starts doing five club backcross sprints up and down the hall. Bastard.

We collected a big group of people together for tea on Saturday and invaded Frankie and Benny's. It was yummy-nice but I'm not sure they were quite prepared for eleven of us at just that moment. Darren ate the biggest, most offensive pizza in the world and had to invade everyone's personal space to do it.

This was my first full week BJC and I thoroughly enjoyed every minute of it. I talked to people and people talked back to me which was nice. I don't usually do that because you're all big and scary but it turns out the vast majority of people are alright. And if they're not you can always wander off. I got lots of hugs. Miark groped my bum. I found myself a couple of wives. I discovered that at a BJC it's socially acceptable to talk about poo to just about anyone. Which I did. Alan and I got recognised as good jugglers by a couple of randoms who, admittedly, didn't know what they were talking about, but it was nice to be stopped and asked questions and have people nod appreciably at you as they walk past. Volunteering didn't anger me. We signed up for a slot, turned up, got told to do something, and went and did it. Simple. Makes you wonder what makes it so difficult for other peple to get right. It would have been interesting to see how the badge privilege system worked for getting into shows had there been more people interested in going to the shows. As it is, I think BYJOTY and the Britishish were both weirdly under-attended. Which is strange when so many people came back from Cornwall last year saying BYJOTI was the best thing they'd seen all week.

I'm excited about picking up my new clubs on Friday. I'm going to do my best to muller them in an effort to appreciate the higher quality.

Steve Rawlings is a king. His is the one act I could watch at every convention for the rest of my life and still find very, very funny and not be disappointed by (+1) He had good energy and I didn't have that 'ohh groan, the compere's back' feeling that I normally get and he didn't piss about introducing people. He just got on with it and did a good job. (+1) Well done him.

Flame Oz had sticks that were on fire which usually isn't my thing. They weren't the most original or coordinated with it either (-1) but it was the right act to open a public show with (+1) and set a good pace for the night. Oh, and there was a loud whizzy bang thing at the end (+1).

Norbi did his usual stuff but looked swamped by the stage (-1). His music was quite good though and he at least attempted to work to it (+1). Probably some of the best of Norbi I've seen for a long long while, but still just Norbi.

The Australian acrobalancers killed things a bit with their comedy juggling which really wasn't entertaining (-1). Their acro was wobbly but they whipped through it like nobody's business (+1). I'm afraid they have to lose a point for thinking that acro with flag twirling is an acceptable finale (-1).

There was some poi act next. Poi is rubbish (-1) and this particular act was not skillful of well executed (-1) and was absolutely not good enough to be in the public show. Very very drab (-1). I forget when she appeared on stage but there was a Swedish girl with a ball at one point (Janine?). I'm sure she was very clever and did her stuff smoothly and with the correct level of flounce but for some reason she pressed my mysogeny button and after about a minute of it I became really very annoyed. I mean she might as well have just whipped her pants off and menstrated across the stage. (-1)

Was Tempei next? It all becomes a blur. He was good though. Short and to the point will bucket loads of good tricks (+1). It's really nice to see him do his stuff with costume and music and routine. It improves ten fold what is already really rather good. Nothing to complain about there. (+1)

Wes Peden impressed me. His mix of 'art and sports juggling' is obviously just the mix I've been looking for (+1). There was just the right amount of impressive little tricks, lots of things up in the air, good execution of really quite hard stuff, and nice fluid movement between it all (+1) A nice way to end the first half.

Angie started off the second half. I don't really mind hula all that much when it's done properly, and Angie can do it properly (+1). Again, it was the right act to start off that half of the show and my only tiny annoyance was the fact that she was just ever-so-slightly out of time with the video playing on the edge of the stage. Not much, but enough to make me tut (-1).

Garfield completely disappointed me. I hadn't seen him at all during the week and so I was looking forard to seeing him do something and being able to assess his short-arsedness. He is. But I didn't get the chance to enjoy his juggling. Yes, some of his speil was quite funny and astute (+1) but he was walking a very thin line between good natured jibes at the other performers and just been nasty about them. This especially annoyed me because he didn't do a bloody thing to show that he was in any way a better performer (-1). If he'd have said his stuff and then gone into backcrosses and spinning around and throwing things about a bit I wouldn't have complained. But he didn't, so I am. (-1)

William Lee was extremely cool. The glow diablo bit at the start made me smile for a few seconds (+1) because I like pretty colours, but after that got a tad annoying. It's nice to be able to see when someone's doing something terribly difficult (-1) Once the lights came on though he more than made up for it. He was fantastic in a way that everyone could appreciate. Skill, energy, pace. Yes. (+1)

Vova disappointed me a little too. Mainly because he pass good and me likee pass but he didn't do any. The couple of quick routines he did do though were entertaining and good stuff (+1) and I could have stood to see more of it, which is always a good sign (+1). I have to admit that using Luke's music made me laugh hysterically at the time becuase I am a complete bitch, but it was a very shitty thing to do, methinks (-1) and really not needed.

Dietz made me laugh (+1) but it wasn't what I came to see (-1). Things were made worse by Steve Rawlings saying the wrong thing and making me think that Dietz was going to come back out and actually juggle. But no. (-1) If it wasn't for the fact that he makes my tummy feel funny then he'd get an extra point knocked off for really truly taking the piss.

I can't begin to describe all the many kinds of wonderful that is Get The Shoe. They were utterly superb and I felt nothing but joyous throughout the whole act. It had everything. Passing and stealing (+1), comedy fighting (+1), good movement and pure skill (+1). Their use of music and lighting really was an example of how it should be done too. I can't praise them highly enough. They salvaged what was turning into not-a-good show.

Aside from the usual poi/staff/contact stuff that are a bit rubbish but expected by now, it was the WJF lot that ruined the show for me. I don't understand the politics beind this kind of stuff (I am just a girl, after all) but Garfield and Dietz (and to a slightly lesser extent, Vova) came across as arrogant, unprofessional, and sort of shitty. Dietz gets a slight reprive because he has pretty knees, but if it wasn't for the fact that I'd spent pretty much the whole day watching him juggling exceedingly well in the hall I would feel even more cheated by them all. The fact that Garfield and Dietz in particular were in the second half of the show I think is quite insulting to the other acts who, to their credit, at least bothered to go out and actually try to entertain the crowd. If I was Wes Peden I'd be pissed off. I'm not sure whether the atmosphere they created filtered through to the public but I definitely felt it and it was horrible. Unfortunately, their combined poor turnout takes the show down another point. (-1)

Juggle Monkey scores +4. 

Friday was a more relaxed day. Alan buggered off to watch the WJF stuff so I took the opportunity to sit and stare at people. Eight clubs still looking respectable. Pete turned up in the afternoon and cooked me sausage and mash. Mmmm. He then dashed off to see the Britishish while I pottered about putting stuff away, thinking that by the time I got down to the hall there wouldn't be any seats left anyway. How foolish I was. Got a text telling me they'd saved me a seat and so had to run in a terribly girly fashion across site, eliciting snickers and mockery all the way, and getting a really bad stitch in the process.

My Britishish review may be a bit skewed by the fact that I turned into the very thing I despise most and arrived late. Not only that, but I had to climb over some poor woman's head to get to my seat and judging by the look on her face, slightly annoy her. +1  for my bad. Arriving late also meant that I completely missed Donald Grant which, in hindsight, I'm rather annoyed about. I think I can make a pretty good guess as to what his routine was like and it'd probably have been one of the best bits of the show. +1 to give him the benefit of the doubt.

From what I saw of Maynard Flip-flap he wasn't really on form (-1). A pity that I've seen him before, really, else I would have thought he was just an average compere and not been expecting him to make me laugh. The first act I got to watch was the Wonder Woman hula bird. She was old and haggard and really no Annette. (-1) Not impressed.

Jago gave us some original material (+1) and although it was really just a bit too long (-1) there was definite potential there for a good act and I wouldn't mind seeing it again. Can't be bad.

Belly dancing flags, then. Right. I'm not altogether sure what to say about this one. I don't think I would have minded seeing a woman doing a bit of a sexy dance. It's not something I get to see every day. But belly dancing wasn't what we got. Instead we got a few sequins, a bit of jiggly woman-flesh and lots and lots of mindless spinning around in circles holding cloth (-1). It's this kind of thing that really irritates me. It was all terribly reminiscent of 'jazz poi' from NAJC (-1 for bringing that back into my head), and awfully painful to watch. It amazes me that these people think what they have is a presentable talent when really all they're doing is wasting everyone's time. Awful. Absolutely awful.

When the next act on was announced as poi I nearly killed myself. The only reason I didn't was the little glimmer of hope I felt in the pit of my stomach when the audience audibly groaned. +1 for being part of a sensible audience. The poi was just poi. Dull, formulaic, insulting. (-1) Rob was the saving grace of the first half. He actually juggled (+1) and did it rather well although his hat bit was rather droppy. Best of all, he reminded me of Bungay. (+1)

Zenith started off the second half with a bit of scarily wobbily acro. They didn't look totally in control of themselves to me and I found it rather painful to watch at times (-1) but I kept watching because of the lack of elastic in the woman's costume (+1 for upside-down boobies and frantic hoiking of tops).

I actually really enjoyed Luke B's coat routine. It made me laugh and felt well paced and entertaining (+1). A bonus that he didn't speak. (+1)

I think I went a bit against the grain with Megan Pike. The people around me seemed to like her stuff but I found it tedious and repetetive (-1). It went on way too long to keep my even half way interested (-1) but on the other hand, I've now seen someone who looks more like a teenage boy than I do (+1).

More time wasting from the four random acro girls who came on next to whore themselves around the stage. (-1) I have nothing good to say about them. Lacking in skill, and I think decidedly less pleasing on the eye than they imagine themselves. (-1)

Luke Wilson did some juggling. (+1) I was ever so slightly disappointed to begin with that he did his usual act (-1) but he does it so well that it's always very pleasant to watch (+1). He was by far the best act of the night as far as entertainment and raw skill are concerned. (+1) The truly annoying thing was that he wasn't the final act. Splot Circus well and truly squandered the headlining position (-1). Once again, a very 'skill-light' act (-1) which got my hopes up with the mention of unicycles and then dashed them mericlessly when they started riding around in circles. (-1)

The Britishish scores -2.

I left feeling terribly hard done by and went back to the hall for a bit more of a juggle. Those Beard clubs I've got? Broke another. Didn't even bother swapping it this time. I've had enough. Notables were meeting Rob Stone who is exceedingly nice and failing to pass with Roger after he said 'I'm just going off for a quick ride and then we can throw things.' I'd forgotten that his definition of 'quick ride' is wildly different to mine.

We slept on site for the first time that week and sat in the camper giggling at how lovely it is to have a gas heater by the side of the bed.

Not that I want to make a big song and dance about it but, my god! I never realised people were so easily swayed by a pretty face. Let's just wait till acne sets in and we'll see how he fairs then, shall we? Harumph.


It's not that I didn't like his routine. He's improved one hundred percent from his Durham act. But that's the trouble. He's on such a steep learning curve that I think it's wrong to award him something now while he's running around jacked up on sugar and not applying himself properly when he's got another nine years to get it right. It gives him the wrong impression. Personally, I want to grab the kid by the shoulders and shake him for a bit. "Just stand still and concentrate, for crying out loud!" (I would cry) "And you'll be truly amazing, and I will clap and cheer and hoot and scream like the rest of them."


But enough. My only other complaint about BJYOTY was the sound of Luke's voice. And how much of it there was.


Thursday was another day of severe pwnage of all things juggly. I felt my hand getting a bit sore after having passed six with Lizzy in the morning so Alan taped me up with some padded bandage stuff and it worked a treat. I lasted the rest of the day without any real discomfort. My thumb's a bit sore this morning and I've got a nasty blister, but nothing compared to what I would have been like without the tape. Hurrah! Problem solved at last. Eight clubs is looking a lot more presentable. I don't feel bad about subjecting people to it in public any more. We even got a couple of admiring comments from some randoms. They didn't know what they were talking about but it's nice to be recognised.

Notables were our failure to attend Tarim's passing workshop due to there being not enough space to throw a club in the tiny little classroom they were in. Word has got round about Maddy making an honest woman of me. Miark wants to be my wife as well now but I'm not sure I've got the time. He's probably very high maintenance. Commuting is working very well. Getting a hot, undisturbed shower without having to queue for an hour is one of life's great joys. I'm rather upset that Dietz doesn't look like my brother any more now that he's shaved his beard off. I feel like we've lost some very special connection, he and I. We walked past a local chav taking his rat-on-a-string for a wal. As we were approaching him he was bent down trying to get something out of the dog's mouth which, upon closer inspection turned out to be a boiled sweet. Just as we walked past he got up mumbling "Fine. Keep the sweet, I don't want it anyway." You had to be there to appreciate the humour of it but it still counts as a notable.

And oh yeah, that replacement club I got off Greg yesterday? It broke. This time I traded it in for a slightly scuffed looking one because it's not like I'm going to have time to get attached to it. If only Greg would stop just handing them out to me. I quite fancy getting a set of Henry's. Sigh.

With the timing of a very well timed thing, Pete arrived home on Tuesday with a Barnesy and announced that we were currying just as I was lifting the greatest pasta bake of all time out from the oven. We discussed many things over dinner. Like dodgy shoulders, the incongruence of Tempei and poi, and Mini dressed in nothing but a big pink bow.


Alan having decided to commute up to site every day, for fear of chavs, Barnesy and I tagged along with him on Wednesday morning and got up there bright and early. I tried to make a point of specifically not paying for WJF but I think the gesture was lost somewhat due to the fact that I think only about three people have bothered with it anyway.


I talked to lots and lots of people and all but one person was friendly and nice and the day drifted by in a sea of smiles and hugs. Two till four I volunteered and stood out in the carpark telling people stuff and watching it go in one ear and out the other. One bloke was terribly affirmitive all the way through my speil, "Yes...yes...right...ok...yes..fine...right..." and just as he picked up the clutch to pull away, turned to me and said "So what am I doing?" Sigh. But I got to wear a high vis vest and listen to the inane conversation going on over the walkie talkies. "There's a willy balloon workshop! Get here now! Over." At any rate I am now officially all badged up and have absolutely no qulams about being a lazy bitch for the rest of the convention. Huzzah!


Alan and I seem to have suddenly got very serious about seven club three count and eight. By the end of the day my lefty passes were actually looking respectable, and eight clubs seems to have knitted together quite well now. Ultimates still eludes me though. It just won't sit right in my head. I think I'm going to have to go back to six clubs and work on being floaty for a bit before it clicks.


Notables of the day included asking directions from a woman in a tabbard and watching her struggle not to say "Ooh, you don't want to start from here." Maddy asked me to marry her. Which was nice. I said yes, obviously. It's not often I get offers that good. We're going to buy matching anoraks. Miark described me to a random as "Clare. You can hug her." I found that Alex is even worse at enjoying conventions than I am. Carvin was so hot it made juggling a redundant activity, but I didn't *hate* it. I got a tan. Peachi has stolen my t-shirt slogan and refuses to pay me royalties. I don't mind so long as everyone remembers where the idea came from. If I ever hear anyone refer to him as the man who's making poo I'll become very high-pitched and indignant. Oh, and the blue club I got off Beard on the basis that there was a design fault with the red ones which meant I kept breaking them? I broke it. Swapped for a nice new one.


Pete turned up at about three and tried to fit his day's sociableness and juggling quota into one afternoon. He didn't do badly. We called it a day quite early though cause I was fair tuckered out. But a good day, certainly. It was nice to smile and hug and wave and chat to so many people. I don't do it very often because people scare me, but there was obviously something in the water.

We went to see 300 this morning.
I think there was some semblance of a plot to it but mostly it was just a lot of beefcakes wearing leather pants.

Mmmm. Beefy.


(Oh, and I hate Darren for turning off tap zones.)

[Edit: I found ten pounds in the street and no one has congratulated me yet. Harumph.]

Generally speaking, I loathe work.

But there's something terribly comforting about sitting round a desk with your mates on a Tuesday evening in a library bereft of students, listening in silence to the munching of easter eggs and pringles as we tap tap tap away on our computers.

These are the moments in life I live for.