Both MacBook Airs updated to the latest OS overnight. Phew. It seems to have fixed the coreduetd issue as well. Maybe those nice Apple folk rolled out the latest OS update specifically for me?
Early morning was spent with one settee out, one settee in – all managed remotely for back in the bloody Estuary Wilds.
The fancy new settee company sprung a surprise on us by saying that the new furniture was ready for immediate delivery on Saturday morning. Which gave us not a lot of time to get rid of the old settee. I might have found a solution.
We were very specific during the ordering process: feet, not castors. Got that? FEET, NOT CASTORS.
But of course it turned up with castors.
Oh dear.
It looks rather stylish. I fear the settee will soon become the world’s most expensive cat scratching pole once Dotty gets her paws stuck into it.
I headed out for another run. The plan was for it to be a short circuit around lovely Larkhall. I had to be back in the flat for 9am to take delivery of the new camera.
But my legs and lungs felt good. I pushed it and set off with just enough time to take in another King of Clapham Common 8km circuit.
I passed some Bagpipe Botherer in full kilt at Stockwell tube. I made a mental note to stay well clear of Westminster Bridge Road all morning.
For once I was ahead of the ParkRun curve. I passed the Clapham starting point as the marshals were having their pre-run briefing.
I was feeling strong on the approach back down Clapham Road. I fancied the extra Larkhall loop bolt on. But I had to be back in the flat.
Strava tells me that I was nine seconds slower than yesterday. Strava sometimes stretches the truth.
I set myself up in the flat with some routine chores, making sure that I would be able to hear the delivery man when he pressed the buzzer. I was told anytime between 9am – 3pm. Which ain’t great for a Saturday.
Robert Elms played Prefab’s King of Rock ‘n’ Roll. It’s a decent pop song. But I always skip this when playing the Langley Park album. It’s a little too cheesy for the masterpiece that follows.
I looked up the credits for Langley Park. Blimey: Thomas Dolby, Pete Townsend and Stevie bloody Wonder. Not bad for what at the time was a relatively unknown North East band trying to throw off their indie roots.
Elms had a spiritual Four-fer. Van, Nick Drake and George Harrison all featured. Religion is wasted on religious nut jobs.
He also had a decent Aladdin Sane interview with the son of Duffy, the photographer who shot THAT cover. Aladdin Sane is all over London right now.
The Postman Delivers: the new Olympus PEN F.
Blink and you’ll miss it, mind. I had a random check of my email. The delivery company took much delight in declaring the camera had been delivered.
Hang on – I didn’t get a buzz from Mr Delivery Man.
I headed downstairs to find a rather expensive piece of kit had been left outside behind a bin.
Cheers, Mr Delivery Man.
At least it meant I was fancy free for the afternoon ahead.
To Peckham Town! In decent Transpontine weather!
I cycled through Brixton and Herne Hill, making my way over to Dulwich – which is where Peckham Town play.
I passed a fella with a pony and trap in central Brixton. He was actually giving pony rides, Skegness beach style.
The Railton LTN has had some further improvement since I last rode this stretch. The infrastructure is coming together making this a joy to cycle along.
I cycled past le Velo. There’s been a pretty smart lick of paint around the entrance, displaying the iconic three track lines Herne Hill. It’s always been hidden away out of site. The new paintwork makes le Velo a lot more visible.
Peckham Town was great fun. I met up with D and M and settled in for a game against table toppers Red Velvet. Their kit was as shit as their name.
The Menace played superbly, bossing the league leaders and taking no shit. The final score of 2-1 to Peckham was well deserved.
All the players took part in a lap of honour at the end. Fans were thanked personally for coming along to support them. PROPER community football.
I had a little spare time and so stopped of at le Velo. There was a female derny session taking place. Hearing the motors of the dinky dernys around Herne Hill is one of the finest sounds in South London.
A new roasted coffee shop has appeared along the Front Line. It looks very welcoming, albeit a little out of context with the history of the area.
Gentrification has yet to trickle down to the Stockwell gyratory. The Flute Man of SW8 was particularly manic this afternoon. He was wearing a very skimpy T-Shirt. I hate to think what his dress etiquette might be once the first heatwave hits us.
Like a FOOL I watched the Forest ‘highlights’ on YT. I was listening to the BBC Nottingham commentary at Peckham. The conversation with D and M was a welcome distraction.
Christ, that looked a shocking performance. It came very close to ruining my Easter weekend.
Hey hoe.
I’m better than that, etc.
I had an ear worm early evening. I could sing the song, but I was at a loss as to what it might be. I scrolled through my most recent tracks. Nope, none of those.
I gave Google Hum a try. OH MY DAYS. I’m either a very good singer or this is an incredibly smart piece of tech.
It came back straight away:
Cathal Smyth and All My Lovin’.
I saw from Insta that today was the opening for F’s new record shop back in the bloody Estuary Wilds. I’m disappointed to have missed this. I made a diary date to make sure I pay a visit when the Transpontine holiday comes to a close.
The new camera took up most of my time Saturday evening. I played around with various functionality, making a note of what I will use, and what I can forget about.
The WiFi feature is pretty cool. I can drop files to my phone instantly, and then publish these on various social feeds.
Forest have still fucked with my head. Betcha it’s the first thing I think about when I wake up in the morning.
Links for Saturday 8th April, 2023
“Starmer look like a funeral director. You never quite know if he’s going to say something about manufacturing jobs or murmur that the horse-drawn carriage is now ready to leave.”
What was that dreadful thud? The sound of Keir Starmer falling off his high horse
Steve Ignorant Talks with Sunny War on the Talkhouse Podcast
