PASHA DU VALENTINE Countess of Brighton and Hackney

Writer, artist and musician, Pasha du Valentine, blogs everyday from her studio in the UK.

Tuesday, 10 December 2019

The Pavement by Pasha du Valentine

Yve knew the pavement well. She had grown up here and played hopscotch which scrappy bits of white chalk stolen from the school blackboard. She thought back to the friendships and gymslips and the white numbers scrawled on each paving stone. She rarely saw kids playing hopscotch any more. Those days were longed for now as her expensive court shoes marked how far she had gone in losing her life to the mundane.

There was a drain, old as the street, that had never been levelled to the road in all these years. She had fallen off her brother’s chopper bike once as she skimmed it with the front wheel. She grazed her knees badly and chipped a front tooth. Her brother never let her ride it again. Her mother had been cross and said Yve’s wild side would need to be curbed else there would be trouble. The Chopper days were fun fuelled days of unexpected events. No two the same. Adventures and Enid Blyton thrills. And the boys? Ah yes, the boys, filled with East End promise.

She knew this pavement like the map of her life; the cracks, the moss, the chewing gum and fag ends near the bus stop. Her DNA was in the tarmac.

She looked around. There were some women up ahead on the corner chatting. She turned and walked back on herself. She was looking for clues. Clues that would explain how her life had been so lacklustre, so predictable. Where had all the hopes gone? Her life read like a short story in a magazine, the ones in a doctors’ surgery that you didn’t care if you finished, ones you simply forgot, never thinking of again. There was no story, pages were missing.

A car drove up and a tinted window descended slowly.

A confident-looking man in his thirties looked her up and down and nodded.

Yve carried on walking slowly.

‘You do head?’ asked the man.

Yve stopped and turned to look at him. He was handsome, well dressed and well-spoken, despite the crude request. She checked her watch.

‘Hundred,’ answered Yve.

‘Blimey, you must be good.’

The door unlocked and she got into the vehicle.
She undid the top buttons on her crisp white shirt and edged her red pencil skirt up to reveal her black sheer seamed stockings. Her high heels clipped together as she raised a well-shaped black eyebrow. ‘Shall we get on?’ she said, aware of the time.

The man came quickly and quietly with less mess than Yve had anticipated.

She checked her lipstick in the passenger seat mirror.

The man did up his fly and handed over the hundred pounds.

‘You should ask for it first really,’ he said, ‘I mean, you can’t always trust people.’

‘I trusted you,’ said Yve.

‘Same time next week?’ asked the man.

Yve thought for a moment, going over in her mind if a regular client was practical.

‘Ok,’ she said, opening the door a rearranging her coat.

The man drove off. Yve looked up and down the road. The group of women were still there.

Then another car turned the corner, the Blue Mercedes that belonged to her husband.

Ralph was a good man. They had met twenty years ago through work and had bonded over careers and ambition. But they had both settled into civil servant pen-pushing roles. Children had never happened for various reasons and life together was humdrum and dull. There was love, always love, but nothing exciting happened anymore.

The Mercedes stopped and Yve jumped in.

‘Oh thank you darling, sorry you had to come out, bloody car of mine just packed up, garage says it’ll be another day.’

One of the women from up the road walked past and Yve just heard her say, ‘you’re busy today’.

Ralph kissed Yve’s cheek. ‘Who is that? He asked, ‘looks like a prostitute.’

‘Oh, no idea,’ said Yve, ‘never seen her before.’

© 2019 Pasha du Valentine / Goddamn Media

Cello Collaborations with Pasha du Valentine

2020 will be the year of the cello for me as I try to increase my repertoire and create some new groups and orchestras, oh and the occasional collaboration.

I discover each day how bad I am but I discover how good. This is the curse of all musicians.

If you are a musician and would like to work on something please get in touch.

Particularly I would like to work with producers and arrangers as those are the skills I lack for certain.

In the meantime, I will be working on a series of cello recordings that are largely experimental and fuse ASMR with found digital noise and pure drone as well as more traditional melody.

Please email if you have a proposal or contact me via my website.


Monday, 9 December 2019

Goddamn Words Vol. 1

Here is my new button which enables you to download this month's collection of short stories by Pasha du Valentine for £1.50.

Please enjoy reading them as much as I enjoyed writing them.


The Election Looms and Artists Despair

In case you are unaware, and I am envious of those who are, the election looms this Thursday.
According to polls, it will be a Tory win so we will have to suffer that buffoon of ignorance that is Boris Johnson.

Of course, he is pretending to be stupid as he has the most appalling manners since Donald Trump and knows he won't endear himself to the fickle floating voter in this tense run-up.

We will fall unceremoniously into Victorian standards of living where the poor are not educated or cared for and I am genuinely scared for the future.

I think of my grandchildren and the disparity between the rich ones and the poor ones and I see this tragic side of Conservative rule at work.

I also see the greed manifest as family and friends who 'have' already too much, are determined to hold onto it for no good reason other than blatant greed.

Artists, by nature on the poor end of the scale, unless they managed to sell a banana stuck to a wall with a bit of masking tape stuck to a wall for £90,000, are in despair over their futures.

The horror does not make for good reading so I will save the political rhetoric for some short stories.

The first issue of my new magazine goes on sale later today. Issue 1 is part of a new series of monthly publications which will be for personal download and will have ten or more short stories and some poetry thrown in for good measure.

I will include the purchase button here shortly.

Now I drink coffee and worry about Thursday's outcome.

#pashaduvalentine #goddamnmedia

Sunday, 8 December 2019

My Facebook ban was lifted....

'I also made a declaration of celibacy while I was away, as I search for spiritual enlightenment through my work. I just felt that my physical relationships were having a negative impact on my art. They were distracting as well as damaging.
I am doing some written articles about it and how and if it impacts on my mental state as well as my creative output. So far I feel so much better. I am avoiding any physical relationships, virtual or otherwise for a year as I seek to make sense of how the internet and contemporary society are affecting our deep and meaningful relations with one another.'

Do follow my FB if you have the inclination as I use it daily even though I despise everything it stands for.
I have lots of accounts of course because I am always being banned for 30 day stretches due to sharing something they don't agree with.

Friday, 6 December 2019

Short Stories by Pasha du Valentine

Here you will find the Tea Cup Shorts by Pasha du Valentine, a series of short tales and pros in bite-size pieces for every tea break.

The stories are also being recorded for Goddamn Radio.

The Market   a Goth love story
The Riverbank   family and death
Sterile   a political sacrifice
Simplicity  a cat lover's tale
Ageing  a poem 
The Enchantment  a witchy poem
Tranquil  an exorcism
The Cafeteria  a tale of changes
Silence  a noisy story
Vintage  a story of misunderstandings
Ambidextrous  a story of expectation and disappointment
Happiness  a poem to uplift

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