I shut the main MacBook Air down overnight. This seems to have resolved the crazy CPU situation. The Activity Monitor didn’t flag any processes higher than 25% all day. I can live with a 25% factor for most life gambles.
“It needs be said that the staff at Brixton Rec have been bloody brilliant in the past week. They are exceptionally polite and patient when dealing with the many issues coming at them. Those above could watch and learn a lot about humility.”
I headed out for another Clapham run. I didn’t warm up until 3km into the 8km route. It felt like a chore throughout. I wasn’t feeling this.
I passed the Clapham North Deep Level Shelter. It looks like some pretty smart street art is part of a work in progress. This drag along Clapham Road has looked a little jaded in recent years. Street art often means gentrification. But the area could do with being tarted up.
My right calf was also a little sore. I decided to skip the Larkhall bolt on. Strava tells me that this was my fastest time around the route since June of last year. I find that hard to believe.
Album of the Day: Led Zeppelin – Led Zeppelin II
Refused to listen
⭐
Some BATSHIT mails went back and forth regarding kayak storage back in the bloody Estuary Wilds. I signed up for storage. It was just that: pay here, store here.
It now seems that I’m expected to clean out all sorts of filthy shit before this can happen. No ta.
It takes me an afternoon to recover from a gig row, scrubbing out all the crap from the stinking river each time. I might offer an OCD clause to the kayak storage contract.
Friday was then a little hit and miss. I tried to remain flexible with plans watching the cricket. The weather forecast suggested fuck flexibility – don’t even bother rocking up at The Oval. I headed off in search of art instead.
To Whitechapel! On the No 35 bus!
I listened to the latest Shut and Show More Football Forest podcast whilst walking over to Elephant. This week is the 50th anniversary of the Forest badge – something I’m sure we can agree is the most elegant in all world football.
There was a fantastic interview with the graphic designer who came up with iconic tree, River Trent and Forest typography back in 1973. Players past and present spoke of the comfort that the badge gives them.
I reached Elephant and my own sense of comfort was soon disrupted. A woman was eating some mid-morning fried chicken by the bus stop. She dropped a whole wing piece on the floor.
You know what’s coming.
She had absolutely NO SHAME in bending down to pick it up, and then tuck in to her morning chicken treat.
AT THE BLOODY ELEPHANT.
It was enough to make me a veggie there and then on the spot.
The bus passed through a rammed Borough Market. We crossed at Ldn Bridge. I departed at LS. I entered the Liberty of Norton Folgate.
I seem to have spent more time around these parts in the past year. I’m beginning to love Whitechapel and the surrounds. So much so that I actually carried out a property search later in the day. A wasn’t impressed.
My first stop on the art trail was the Gilbert and George Centre at Spitalfields. Art should be fun. I had to leave after ten minutes as I couldn’t stop giggling.
The G&G Centre is great. It looks and smells like a new gallery. Plus it’s free. I love the vanity of artists having the confidence (and financial comfort) to say fuck it, this is OUR gallery.
I walked through Brick Lane and on to Whitechapel High Street. I took in the Whitechapel Gallery briefly. The exhibitions hadn’t changed since my last visit a couple of months ago. It was still an enjoyable way to spend fifteen minutes or so.
I popped briefly into the Anarchist Bookshop. This reminds me so much of Selectadisc in the Fair City back in the day.
My current charity shop CD embargo was broken. One shop had the second Lowgold CD for £1. It would have been rude to walk away without liberating it.
The skies looked a little less grey back down in S Ldn. I buggered off back down to The Oval. I rocked up in the Peter May, saw one over of cricket and then the Umps took them off.
Arse.
I hung around for half an hour or so. I listened to a Word In Your Ear podcast with Dylan Jones talking about Weller. It’s also 50 years since Weller wrote his first song.
Friday evening was spent in the flat, working and listening to the Friday Football Social on 5Live. Even Fletch sounds frustrated about Forest and their chances of survival.
Fuck it. We’re fucked.
Links for Friday 14th April, 2023
“A figure of the commons and the wild places, the Green Man is for the rebels, the dissidents, the heretics and freedom fighters, not the monarchy.”
