Things to do in PorlockThank you for choosing Porlock as your holiday destination. And what a destination it is! A beautiful village in an area where time stands still, surrounded by some of the most stunning countryside England has to offer. No wonder you’ve come here. No doubt you’ll have heard some of the recent nonsense about timewarps, and multi-dimensional sound transference. Hopefully, you’ll ignore this idle speculation and concentrate on taking in the traditional sights and sounds of Porlock. Please put talk of “arty montages of cut-up pop snippets woven into a sonic stew” out of your head and concentrate firmly upon your itinerary. I said stop it! Bloody townies. And where better to start than the famous record shops on Jim Street. This medieval thoroughfare winds its gentle way through the heart of Porlock, and was the site in 1843 of its last public hanging. Why not visit Herr Schneider’s Kraut-Rock emporium and pick up an old Neu seven-inch? Alternatively, how about dusting off your glad rags and going to Porlock Casino for an all-night boogie at Northern Soul’s most South Westerly club night? And you simply have to pop into The Porlock Analogue Museum and have a tinkle on the synthesisers… Next up, it must be time to go and check in on “Paulie” Collins, the village Blacksmith. He will no doubt be beating out hip-hop rhythms on an anvil in the time-honoured manner of our forefathers. See if you can persuade him to sing one of the old-time ballads. Stand well back, as his voice has been heard as far away as St. Ives. Just don’t get him talking about psychedelia… The Village Library is a popular place to catch up on local gossip. Old Man Barlow, the head librarian there will sell you information for the right price. This eccentric character only comes out at night, and scares the wood pigeons senseless. He is the elusive spirit of Porlock, flickering in and out of its history. With his scribbled plans and smiling demeanour, he is every inch the village psychopath. His lonesome guitar and bass echoes round the stacks. Somebody had to set the cat amongst the pigeons… It might be prudent to return to your hotel at this point, and avail yourself of the nearest mini-bar. Thus steadied, you may continue your whistle-stop tour of this intriguing and whimsical corner of Olde England. Is that the time? Best be on your way to “The House of Pain” to be serenaded by Leon “Chiquita” Carter, Somerset’s sleaziest club singer. He will charm you with his honeyed tones, and plays a salacious wah-wah. With a repertoire stretching from Slint to Big Star, it’s fair to say that there’s not a dry seat in the house when he gets going. Or if you seek more traditional fare, it’s a short dash to the folk night at The Wandering Minstrel pub in the centre of Porlock. Alan Heyes, the landlord of this Tudor watering hole will be happy to welcome both you and your beard. He is rumoured to have been a gangland “minder” in the East End of the 1960s; nobody who crosses him lives to tell the tale. You may be lucky enough to hear him pluck out a tune or two on a battered guitar, which he calls “Bessie”. His cherubic face belies his malicious nature. Feeling tired? That’s natural at this point. Maybe it’s time to brush up on your Wicca. Mother Jeffs (Johleen to her close friend, the moon) is the village’s resident white witch, and comes on like a cross between Ma Shipley and Sandie Shaw. Her potions will make you forget yourself, until you too find yourself singing under stars. That’s it then. It’s back to the hotel to face the raised eyebrows of the receptionist. Brushing the cobwebs and glitter off of your hair, you hear a sound like vintage Floyd fluttering on the breeze. Could it be that there really is a temporal audio vortex in this sleepy hamlet? It’s at times like this that you are utterly in thrall to the magic of Porlock. We’ll be seeing you again, I’m sure of it. LEON CARTER: VOX/GUITAR |
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