Tuesday 21st March, 2023

Buzzed: Parsonson’s double and Price’s wonder strike seal Dulwich Hamlet’s 3-1 win over Enfield Town

“It was another thrilling encounter at Champion Hill as Dulwich Hamlet hosted Enfield Town in the Women’s London & South East Regional Premier Division on Sunday.”

Album of the Day: Elvis Costello & The Attractions – Armed Forces

There’s a high bar set with the singles. The rest of the album fails to catch up. Nick Lowe’s production is superb and holds it all together. I wasn’t expecting Peace, Love and Understanding at the end – a highlight.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐

Strava emailed about the price changes. I knew this was coming. My subscription is up 50p a month to £4.50 for the pro model. I still think it represents decent value for money. As with most online subscriptions, the longer you have it, the more you have to lose. flickr has got me by the balls.

Album of the Day Extra: Funkadelic – Maggot Brain

The most BONKERS opening ten seconds for any album. Maggots and drowning in your own shit probably was the expected norm as album openers go back in 1971. This is going to sound terribly, terribly wrong: Maggot Brain reminds me of a black Pink Floyd. For that reason alone I love it.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

BLOGGED: Cash No Longer King – Electronic Payments for Taxis

“All licensed taxis in the borough will have to be able to accept electronic payments in addition to cash. The Council considers the electronic payment facility to be part of the vehicle. It must be working at all times”

Plus a little more BLOGGED: Porkbelly Politics Brings More Gains for the City

“If porkbelly politics is back on the agenda, then you’d be a FOOL not to feast on the benefits that short term funding can bring”

A pinged with a progress report on the building work back in the bloody Estuary Wilds. I’m best off well out of it tbh. I’m considering a Weird Wiv day trip next week.

I sacked off any sport today. I didn’t want to rush back to running. The calf feels fine, but I’ve been here before. I’m bored shitless with swimming. I’ve penciled in Saturday for a possible light return to running.

It was a KLF kinda day.

To Covent Garden! I had time on my hands and haven’t been to this part of town for years. I caught the Northern Line to Waterloo and then walked over the Old Father and then across The Strand.

Some coffin dodger in a mobility vehicle nearly took me out. He was travelling at the speed of a car around a tight bend. He made me smile, rather then be angered.

The geography of Covent Garden always throws me. How can somewhere that is so close to Leicester Square be also a short stroll away from The Strand? I still get lost walking around the area.

Not that there’s a lot to see, these days. Champagne and Fromage has made the upmarket move from Brixton Villaaage to this part of town. There was still some street hawkers offering to draw caricatures. It felt like 1985.

A juggler was somehow holding the attention of a sizeable crowd in front of the Punch and Judy, the scene of one of my worst Ldn nights out back in 1995. I was out-priced even then.

I wandered into St Peter’s Church by mistake. This was a new one on my, hidden away off the main Covent Garden drag. The garden was a welcome peaceful retreat.

I carried on down The Strand, en route to the National Gallery. It was shitty as fuck with the crappy American Candy stores.

I wanted to see the Nalini Malani installation at the NG. It was a series of images projected onto four walls, offering a cut and paste of some classic works of art.

The artist voiced a soundtrack. She claimed “My reality is different.” So is your art.

I left confused, craving simper portraits without the audio. I headed back into the main gallery spaces. I was wearing my Forest body warmer, which led to an unexpected conversation with a Villa supporting security fella.

CHAMPIONS OF EUROPE, YOU’LL NEVER SING THAT, we both sang to his Arsenal colleague. It was the most unlikely exchange in the National Gallery.

I gatecrashed one of the guided tours taking place. The fella was very enthusiastic, waving his arms and enthusing about various pieces of work. I rather fancied doing that. I’d know fuck all about the art, but I reckon I could blag it for all of five minutes.

My phone pinged with a mail from the Met Police. After careful consideration (yeah, right) they’ve decided not to take it further after I reported some twat who almost took me out along South Lambeth Road last week.

It’s not been a good day for the Met Police.

I took the opportunity to do a little camera browsing whilst out and about in town. I headed for my fave camera shop around the back of Mayfair. The range was decent, but the prices were inflated. I felt a bit of a cheeky fucker, googling various models whilst in store.

I tried TCR instead. Buying anything tech based along this stretch has always been hit and miss. I’ve managed a few good bartering sessions in the past, but you always leave with the sense that you’ve been played.

Crossrail and the general gentrification of TCR has pretty much wiped out the tech strip. There was only three shops remaining. And they were all shit.

Meanwhile I’ve completely missed the building of 1 Soho Place on the site of the old Astoria. Blimey. Crossrail hasn’t half transformed this corner.

I had plans for cheeky afternoon half in The French. But I wasn’t in the mood for boozing. And so some CD flicking along Berwick Street instead. Much like the cameras, all the action is online these days. I should have stayed in the flat all day.

Some young dude was taking a selfie along the Noel Street junction. What’s The Story, etc. This time it felt like 1995.

I caught the Victoria Line back down to Sunny Stockwell. I made the mistake of hitting peak rush hour. It’s been a while since I did this daily commute

I was on home ground, and back in time to hear the Flute Man of SW8. 15k steps were clocked up; my only expenditure for the day was a return tube fair. My kinda day.

I asked Chat GPT for a camera recommendation. Chat GPT was spot on, apart from the price.

Early evening was spent following the SEXY Environment Scrutiny Panel back in the bloody Estuary Wilds.

BLOGGED: “Global Control and Green Anarchy” at Scrutiny Panel

“Net zero will mean no flying or shipping out of the UK. We would literally be imprisoned on our island. This is what top down global control is all about. It has been planned since the 1970’s.”

Oh dear.

Links for Tuesday 21st March, 2023

Only a fightback on class terms can reverse 15 years of falling wages

“The idea behind keeping this substack, apart from being a replacement for the not-missed-at-all podcast, is to get me back into the habit of writing daily and hoping that can get me back into good habits”

Tell It Like It Is DRT

‘Stop the boats’ a washout in Ipswich

The philosophy of George Harrison in 10 songs

Dahon launches first electric cargo bike… and it folds | electric bike reviews, buying advice and news – ebiketips