Home
Diary Archive

 Shelley Von Strunckel's Diary

Exactly a year ago I was shamed by pals into tweeting (internet exchanges of only 140 letters and spaces about life, work, play, passions, opinions and frustrations). Initially I was tentative. Since then I’ve joined in, but not with the gusto of some. While in the past year I’ve tweeted about 2,000 times, some have racked up 20,000 tweets. My restraint is partly because much of my day is spent writing astrology columns, and tweeting that I’ve just finished October’s stars isn’t exactly thrilling.

That’s what led to my canal tweets. Two years ago I moved to the once rather disreputable, but now trendy King’s Cross area of London. I live in a loft, a floor of a converted warehouse over the lovely Battlebridge Canal basin, where about 40 residential barges are moored. The canal also boasts masses of wildfowl. Last spring, a goose nested in a keg-turned-planter on a barge below my window. I tweeted about Mrs Goose, the nest, and the six eggs to a growing following, eager for news of chicks. One glorious morn they appeared. Then, only two days later, Mr and Mrs Goose urged them into the canal. With me watching. And tweeting. While my own activities are of some interest to my followers, if I neglect bulletins on the geese and canal life, I get complaints.

Sadly, the geese have gone north for the season. But there’s more excitement. Across the water is Kings Place, a tribute to developer Peter Millican’s efforts. His vision, to combine business, media and the arts in one building, has created a home for the Guardian and Observer, the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment and London Sinfonietta.

There’s a revolving art collection, two auditoriums for concerts and Rotunda, the canal-side restaurant that is, increasingly, my local. In September I’ll be attending the exhibition of the work of a neighbour, David Bailey, with a dinner afterwards of organic meat from Millican’s farm.

I may be best known for my astrology columns, but it’s a relatively recent feature of my astrological career. People are often surprised to learn that I also see private clients. Actually, that’s how I began. I still love using astrology to help untangle personal problems or make strategic business plans. However busy I am, I try to fit in some clients – new and old – each week. The single most frequent and satisfying comment from first-timers is their surprise at now detailed and helpful it is.

For me, opera is the perfect antidote to the solitude of writing – at its best, magical, absorbing and moving. One recent outing was more perplexing. The English National Opera and the radical company Punchdrunk turned the play, The Duchess of Malfi, into an opera and presented it in a disused office block in Docklands. Those who managed to get tickets (the entire run sold out in six hours) were issued white plastic Pulcinella masks and let loose to fathom the confusing proceedings. Singers and orchestra moved frequently, often in several directions. Spaces changed, too, and a bar appeared from nowhere. I was bewildered, but my date, producer Ben Jones, had better instincts about which direction to take. For the finale, the opening night crowd of 350 were herded into a red-draped chamber in which the poor Duchess met her end with high, very contemporary, musical drama. It was artistically challenging. The masks were a steamy nuisance. But it was an experience the survivors are still discussing.

Another London pleasure is Bermondsey’s Friday Flea Market, once a market overt, product of the medieval law that goods sold between sunset and sunrise require no clear title. So, really, a thieves’ market. The law has been changed, but Bermondsey retains its edgy atmosphere. I recently lured Mr Jones, plus Robyn and Robert Wilson, to join me. They own the Bleeding Heart Restaurant in Hatton Garden (the bizarre name commemorates a Lady Hatton, who came to an unfortunate end). After our foray, they treated us to a restorative breakfast chez Bleeding Heart, where we compared finds.

It’s almost September. That means I’m about to write the Year to Come Stars. Yes, 2011. The inevitable question is, will it be better? I’ll soon be tweeting on just that subject.

FOLLOW SHELLEY on Twitter @vonStrunckel. To learn more about consultations or lectures, email info@shelleyvonstrunckel.com

 

BRITSTOP

An A-Z of all things British, by iain Aitch

13. MARKS & SPENCER

Not to be confused with Communist Manifesto writers Marx and Engels, this supermarket-cum-department store is where Britain goes to buy its underwear. In fact, so widespread is this practice that HM Customs officials did toy with the idea of doing away with checking passports and simply checking the tag in the back of people’s underpants instead. Those bearing some kind of M&S branding would be allowed in, while those wearing something more foreign or more racy would be denied entry. This would have had the dual effect of lowering immigration levels and maintaining the Right Kind of People in the UK, but the plans were shelved when it was revealed that austerity has seen the Queen taking to shopping at Primark and that the Prime Minister prefers to go commando.

IAIN AITCH is the author of We're British, Innit published by Collins.