diamond geezer

 Sunday, July 31, 2005

The best/worst of July

Month of the year: You may have thought April was busy (royal wedding meets dead Pope meets election campaign) but when they come to write those 'review of the year' programmes/articles at the end of 2005, surely it's July that's going to stand out. Not just for the wake-up call of London's sudden terrorist nightmare but also for the totally unexpected Olympic victory, the global unification of Live 8, the wholly anti-climactic G8 Summit, the end of 35 years of IRA violence and a huge tornado ripping through Birmingham. Months don't get much more memorable than July 2005. Please, could the next five months be a little quieter?

Short-term London event of the month: Eight bombs (four grimly murderous and four thankfully incompetent) have shaken London out of an ill-judged cosy complacency, but life will get back to normal. It may take weeks, or months, or even years, but one day we will all feel (pretty much) safe sitting on a tube train again. One day.
Long-term London event of the month: Just two votes in Singapore, on the other hand, proved sufficient to rewrite east London's future forever. The five-ring circus is coming to town and no terrorist campaign can stop it. I remain optimistic that in seven years' time July 2005 will be remembered far more for Wednesday 6th and not Thursday 7th.

TV programme of the month: I've always been a sucker for the seaside (ooh, cliffs, mmm, beaches, ahhh, lighthouses) so BBC2's Coast is a twice-weekly must-see. It's a fascinating mix of geography, history, archaeology, anthropology, zoology, geology and travelogue, and I'm continually amazed how much they manage to cram into one hour (ooh, the Severn Bore, ooh). It's North Wales tonight (BBC2, 9pm), including Portmeirion, the Menai Straits and Borth beach (where I once went on a geography field trip). But don't bother buying the book accompanying the series - it's all big pictures and lightweight text, and most disappointing.

Album of the month: It's been three years since the release of Röyksopp's essential Melody AM, an album much loved by advertisers and those who commission TV backing music. The follow-up (The Understanding) is now out, and I can report that it's almost as lovely but not quite as magical. Every tune pleases, but it's the Eple-like 'Sombre detune' that's earwormed into my brain.

Film of the month: Last night I watched Tim Burton's remake of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and suddenly I was ten years old again. Which was great. The special effects were top notch (although I understand the performing squirrels were real), the script was witty (even the great glass elevator joke worked more than once) and the cast were whipple scrumptious. Johnny Depp played Willy Wonka with an endearing gaucheness (like how Michael Jackson used to be) and his performing Oompa Loompas stole the show every time they appeared. But the true star remained Roald Dahl's wildly inventive plot, full of political incorrectness and moral preaching (even if I bet he never once used the abysmal American word 'candy'). Sweet.

 Saturday, July 30, 2005

I-SPY The Sights Of London (revised and updated)

    "I-SPY is an old game. But played the modern way it is the most fascinating game in the world. The best of it is you can enjoy it wherever you are - by yourself or with others. The more you play it, the more exciting it becomes.
    Big Chief I-SPY - Head of the MetPolice - appears every day in the Daily News. He records I-SPY triumphs in tracking and spotting. He tells of his adventures with Muktar, Hassan, Ramzi and Osman. To the Great London Tribe he sends press releases and warnings about unexploded packages. And in his unique way he manages to set everyone I-SPYing."

I-SPY six policeman patrolling outside a tube station (10 points)
I-SPY a policewoman standing in my tube carriage (20 points)
I-SPY a security announcement about looking after your belongings at all times (5 points)
I-SPY a rucksack (-10 points)
I-SPY being stared at because I'm carrying a rucksack (-20 points)
I-SPY an Asian man with a rucksack (-30 points)
I-SPY a seat at the other end of the carriage to the Asian man with a rucksack (30 points)
I-SPY jumping to stereotypical racist assumptions (-50 points)
I-SPY a very empty-looking office every Thursday (-25 points)
I-SPY using the police hotline to shop a neighbour (100 points)
I-SPY a tear gas assault on the flat over the road (-200 points)
I-VIDEO a tear gas assault on the flat over the road (£5000)
I-SPY a potential suicide bomber before he runs into a tube carriage (200 points)
I-SPY a innocent Brazilian lying in a pool of blood on the floor of a tube carriage (-500 points)
I-SPY two bombers in their underwear surrendering on a balcony (1000 points)
I-SPY an uncertain future (-1000 points)

 Friday, July 29, 2005

Advance warning A: We established last week that some of you love reading my posts about London. In which case you are hereby warned that next Monday sees the start of diamond geezer's 3rd annual local history month, so there might be rather a lot of London stuff for you to read. Two years ago I explored fascinating places within 5, 10 and 15 minutes walk of my house, and last August I took a long walk along historic Piccadilly. I won't tell you yet whereabouts in London I'm heading this year (except to say that it doesn't overlap with either of my two previous projects) but I hope that you'll enjoy the whole month-long event. See you on Monday.

Other dg London projects for you to enjoy:
• All the churches in the Oranges and Lemons nursery rhyme
• Investigating the lives of the real EastEnders in London E3
• Everything there is to see along the Greenwich Meridian
• Exploring every station on the thrilling Jubilee line
• All my fascinating London posts in one blog

Advance warning B: We established last week that some of you usually skip reading my posts about London. In which case you are hereby warned that next Monday sees the start of diamond geezer's 3rd annual local history month, so there'll probably be a lot of London stuff to avoid. Two years ago I droned on and on about lots of dull places within walking distance of my house, and last August I scrutinised Piccadilly in far far too much detail. Now there's four more weeks of tedious geo-historical drivel heading your way. But don't worry because there'll still be plenty of non-London stuff scattered in amongst all my capital ramblings. See you on Tuesday.

Other dg London projects for you to avoid:
• All that interminable drivel about the London 2012 Olympics
• An eight mile walk along the stagnant Regent's Canal
• Frankly monotonous stuff about five London A roads
• Several dreary bus journeys around the capital
• All my tedious London posts in one blog

Big Brother 6
Just 14 days to go. Who's still in with a chance of winning?
1) Anthony: favourite to win for the last two weeks [current odds: 1-2 fav]
2) Eugene: second favourite to win, unbelievably [current odds: 5-1]
3) Makosi: favourite two, four and six weeks ago [current odds: 9-1]
4) Derek: joint favourite to win three weeks ago [current odds: 11-1]
5) Craig: favourite to be evicted in week one [current odds: 16-1]
6) Kemal: favourite five and eight weeks ago [current odds: 18-1]
7) Orlaith: favourite to be kicked out tonight [current odds: 50-1]
(with incredibly clickable names)

 Thursday, July 28, 2005

London - an apology to the rest of Britain: If you've been reading the UK media recently you'd think that nothing of any interest was happening anywhere outside London. The Olympics will benefit a few million people, living in London. Last week's failed bombings killed nobody, in London. The hunt for the bombers has been continuing apace, across obscure London suburbs. Tracking down a bomber in Birmingham is of major interest, but only because he threatened London. Trigger happy police on the tube place innocent lives at risk, in London. No Londoners are feared lost in the ghastly Sharm al-Sheikh bombings, which happened a very long way away from London. So, look, we're sorry. We know that 90% of the UK population live outside London and don't give a damn about our 'local' news. It's just that 90% of the UK media are based in London and they like writing articles about how scared they are on the tube and how they've taken up cycling, even if most of their readers live many miles away and drive to work in complete safety. So we Londoners would like to acknowledge that there are lots of interesting things going on around Britain that deserve national news coverage and we apologise for being so self-obsessed. Sorry.

Not haPPPy: Transport for London have issued their second annual report into the performance of the PPP - the Public-Private Partnership that funds investment on the Underground. Both Metronet and Tube Lines have so far been given approximately £2 billion out of the public purse to upgrade the system and its infrastructure, but TfL are not impressed. Reports are normally woolly, positive things (I know, I've written a few) but this one is openly damning:
"There has been some progress in the first two years, but there are also some worrying trends and overall there is a shortfall compared with the expectations created by the private sector Infrastructure companies' bids. In short, performance is not good enough and is less than what was promised."
There follow several pages of paragraphs, tables and graphs that show exactly why performance isn't good enough. 'Availability', 'capability' and 'ambience' aren't improving fast enough, rolling stock is unreliable, track renewal is well behind schedule and a lot of projects are having to be 'rephased'. Meanwhile shareholders continue to receive profits, although most of them are probably sensible enough to live well outside London and drive around in nice big cars all day. If you fancy reading the full report then you can find it here (beware, 90 page pdf), or you might just want to look at the pretty photographs. Of course, I was particularly interested in any reference to the renovation fiasco at my local tube station, and I didn't have to look far:
"Metronet BCV was due to complete enhancements at West Ruislip, Roding Valley and Chigwell by 5 March 2005, as was Metronet SSL at Bow Road, Turnham Green, Plaistow, Dagenham Heathway and North Harrow. All of these projects are running late. The latest plans from Metronet show the remainder of the programme running to time. This is hard to believe given current performance and the acceleration required for year three and beyond." (page 54)

"Although Metronet has met early milestones in its Victoria line upgrade project, it strains credulity to credit progress on such a complex project when, currently, much simpler renewal work is consistently late." (page 5)
Or, in other words, if Metronet can't deliver on a piddly little backwater station like Bow Road (and so far they still haven't ), then what hope does the rest of the crumbling network have? See, I told you my local station was important.

 Wednesday, July 27, 2005

The London Olympics 2012

Friday, July 27, 2012


The Olympic opening ceremony

08:00 Spectators start queueing by the Bow flyover to ensure they get through 12 hours of security checks before the opening ceremony begins.
19:59 Olympic bureaucrats arrive at the Olympic Stadium and are ushered directly to their seats.
20:00 Mayor Ken Livingstone, 67, releases a flock of 'pigeons of peace' to signal the start of the 2012 Olympics.
20:01 It starts raining.
20:02 A procession of Pearly Kings and Queens, beefeaters and members of the cast of EastEnders parades around the arena.
20:12 (oh yes, very symbolic timing) Local schoolchildren flood into the arena dressed as chimneysweeps to perform a medley of songs from Mary Poppins, just to keep American TV audiences happy.
20:25 Heather Small is wheeled on in a giant billowing dress atop a red Routemaster bus to sing 'Proud' - the Official Download of the 2012 Olympics.
20:29 Everybody in the audience holds up a piece of coloured cardboard which, when seen from the TV airship floating above high above Stratford, spells out the words "Up yours Paris".
20:30 A half hour tap-dancing ballet extravanganza follows, commissioned for half a million pounds which appears to have been spent on crepe paper costumes, big swirling ribbons, some big torches and a few primary-coloured hats.
20:59 Still no sport yet.
21:00 Greek athletes lead the parade of nations into the arena, followed by the five-strong Albanian contingent, then some grinning Algerians in full national costume, then one goatherd from Andorra (maybe this would be a good time to go and make a cup of tea).
20:18 - 20:31 Half the population of China appear to have turned up.
21:47 ... Slovenia, Solomon Islands, Somalia, Sri Lanka...
22:05 The UK team bring up the rear, waving and grinning inanely because they've saved a fortune on travelling costs this year.
22:10 Brooklyn Beckham enters the stadium holding aloft a Bic cigarette lighter which he then uses to ignite the Olympic Flame (housed in an old skip rescued from the long-gone Marshgate Lane Trading Estate).
22:20 IOC Chairman Sebastian Coe welcomes the nations of the world, then HM King William V makes a hesitant speech and looks a bit embarrassed.
22:30 The Olympic flag is raised, still water-stained in one corner after the flash floods which inundated City Hall's basement storage cupboards last summer.
22:38 Dame Paula Radcliffe leads the athletes in the Olympic oath - "We swear that we will take part in these Olympic Games in the true spirit of sportsmanship, that we will wear the correct brands and logos at all times, and that we are not taking steroids honest."
22:40 Parade of the Sponsors (Coca Cola, Mastercard, Sony, Jamster, etc), featuring a bevy of teenage beauties throwing sweets from the back of a procession of converted lorries.
22:50 Firework display cancelled at the request of the chief of the Metropolitan Police, because Londoners are still a bit twitchy about simultaneous explosions.
22:55 Let the Games begin!
22:56 commercial break
23:00 Whoopee, the synchronised swimming and volleyball start in 8 hours time.

 Tuesday, July 26, 2005

20 things I really ought to do but can't quite be bothered: buy a new sofa to replace the dire orange monstrosity my landlord left me, take the rubbish out, complain vigorously about my endowment mortgage, purchase some more Earl Grey tea bags, convert my big jar of copper coins into £15 of useful money, back-up the files on my hard disc, dust the skirting board behind my bed, throw away three years' worth of old telephone directories, clean the oven, finish off my last six Creme Eggs before the use-by date at the end of this week, dead head the geraniums on my balcony, go tell the smokers nextdoor that their nicotine habit is filthy and invading my personal airspace, go tell the guitar nuts upstairs that their penchant for loud MOR rock music is selfish and invading my personal headspace, iron 10 shirts for work, throw away the microwave oven that stopped working 18 months ago and is now lying gathering dust under the kitchen table, fill in my income tax form, find an alternative to Norton Anti-Virus that doesn't slow my computer down, clean my windows on the inside (even if I can't reach the outside), set the clock on the cooker forward an hour because it's still on GMT, go out for the evening.

10 new BBC programmes under development
[Nine are real (and you can apply to take part) but one I've made up - which one?]
• Beat The Bailiff: Do you enjoy splashing the cash and are the bills piling up?
• B&B Inspectors: Do you need to kick start your bed and breakfast business?
• Car Booty: Sell your collectable clutter with the Car Booty team!
• Come Buy with Me: Are you desperate to get on the property ladder?
• Does Politics Turn You Off?: Do you find politics a yawn? See if these hardened campaigners can change your mind.
• The Dog House: Is your dog a nightmare? Have you tried everything but nothing has worked?
• Golden Girls: Does your grandmother deserve a complete beauty and wardrobe makeover?
• He's Having a Baby: Are you and your partner about to become parents for the first time?
• Mechannibals: Think you can build a fully armoured tank capable of destroying your neighbour's shed at 50 yards?
• Mirrors Signal Manoeuvre: Are you learning how to drive? Do you long to be Master or Mistress of the open road?
• Sun, Sea and Bargain Spotting: Can you find bargains in a French flea market?
(check here)

 Monday, July 25, 2005

What London commuters are thinking this morning (but trying very hard not to)

What comes next?

1) three tubes and a bus, three tubes and a bus,

2) north south east west, north south east west,

3a) Thursday, Thursday,
3b) 7/7, 21/7,

4) morning rush hour, lunchtime,

5) Aldgate, Edgware Road, Russell Square, Oval, Warren Street, Shepherd's Bush,

6) Circle, Circle, Piccadilly, Northern, Victoria, Hammersmith & City,

7) bus number 26, bus number 30, bus number

8) rucksack, rucksack, rucksack, rucksack, rucksack, rucksack, holdall, rucksack,

9) Asian man, Asian man, Afro-Caribbean man, Asian man, Asian man, Asian man, Asian man, Asian man,

10) life, death,

 Sunday, July 24, 2005

Quickmap: The best map for finding your way around inner London isn't the A-Z, it isn't Multimap and it isn't Streetmap. And, despite being an all-time design classic, it isn't Harry Beck's tube map either. No, it's the Quickmap all-on-one map. Trust me on this one. If you're trying to get from one part of town to another (and you're not mad enough to be driving) then this tiny fold-out masterpiece has everything you need. See which buses go where, which tourist attractions are in the local vicinity, how far it is to the nearest station, which street that is just round the corner, where the all the markets are, which zone you're in and where all the nightbuses go. I've used it to negotiate the Richmond riverside, to work out where the hell my number 23 bus was going and to find the quickest way home from Highgate when the Northern line failed. And all this for just £2.50. Even better, at this time of 'increased travel difficulties', they've made the entire map available as a free download. Which is great if you have an A3 colour printer (or, ahem, if your place of work does). But I'd still recommend buying the real thing (unless of course you live in Melbourne) - you never know when you might be lost without it.

Quickmap links (hours of fun)
• full details of the Quickmap all-on-one London map
• free download of the all-on-one all transport map (pdf)
• Central London walk map
• dead clever bus maps, including Baker Street, Bank, City, Euston, Holborn, Kings Cross, Liverpool Street, Marble Arch, Paddington, St Paul's and Victoria
• central London tube trains (this map is so therapeutic)
• trains (underground and overground) and the DLR
• transport to the new Wembley Stadium
• Notting Hill Carnival route and transport map
• maps of Reading, Winchester and Glasgow

Smoke #6: The sixth issue of Smoke (a london peculiar) has just been issued. Smoke, if you remember, is a sort of London literary fanzine, full of "words, photos and graphic art inspired by the city". It only comes out sort of quarterly (which in real life seems to mean 4/5-monthly) but Smoke is always well worth the wait. In the latest edition you can read about former archaic practices at Foyles bookshop, currect archaic practices at a Jermyn Street barber, the unexpected view from a Dalston kitchen window, Soho's long lost northern sector, footbridges across the Thames, bus of the month (lucky Uxbridge), taxi drivers and London's campest statues (plus much much more spread over 52 shiny pages). Smoke 6 has a slightly more fictional bent than past issues, and there's also a bit of a bias towards locations close to the Thames (not much Barnet or Croydon, then), but as ever it's well worth two quid of anybody's money. Further details here, where to buy a copy here and how to get hold of a copy if you live nowhere near London here. Perfect reading matter for your next tube journey, I reckon, especially to take your mind off wondering which of your fellow passengers the police plan to shoot next.

 Saturday, July 23, 2005

Going back to my roots: Portnall Road, London W9
great grandfather Edward lived (and died) here

I considered writing about Portnall Road back in March when I was investigating my family tree, but I decided not to. I thought that this particular street was far too average and far too unexceptional to bother you with. Nothing interesting ever happened here. And so it was until yesterday afternoon, when police searching for the London tube bombers suddenly sealed off the central part of the street, forced residents to stay indoors and launched a tear gas attack on one of the houses. Suddenly Portnall Road was the frontline in the battle against terrorism, with the possibility of something completely out of the ordinary lurking in this very ordinary northwest London street.

My great grandfather (the one who lived in South Molton Street and got married in Selfridges) spent the last few years of his life living in Portnall Road. The street stretches two thirds of a mile south from Queens Park tube station to the Harrow Road, and Edward lived roughly halfway down at number 98. It's a very typical three-storey Victorian terrace, and yesterday's police raid took place in a similar property on the opposite side of the road. My great grandparents' house would have been long and thin, comprising an entrance hall, sitting room, parlour, kitchen, bathroom and several bedrooms on the upper floors. 100 years ago your average Londoner lived in all of a house, not just part of it subdivided off by chipboard walls. All that interior space would have been especially useful because my great grandparents had several children, although there still wouldn't have been much of a back garden for them all to run around in. And this was where Edward breathed his last, or struggled to because he'd had breathing difficulties ever since being involved in a gas attack in the trenches of World War 1, and he only just about made it into the 1920s.

I went back to Portnall Road earlier in the year to see for the first time the place where my family had once lived. Number 98 is no longer one house but three flats, although the only hint from the exterior is the triple doorbell. The ground floor looks like it's been renovated by the artiest couple in the street, with a thin grey grille across the bay window in the form of twisted tree branches. There's also a matching twiggy gate and some impressive real greenery crawling up the side of the house next door. I could quite imagine some breathy Channel 4 property show presenter getting very excited at the possibilities to be had here with all those lovely period features and Victorian fireplaces to be scrubbed up and scumble-glazed. I noticed that one of the flats was for sale so I checked out the details when I got home:
Two bedroom, first floor flat with lovely high ceilings and converted from this delightful period building. The property comprises: reception room (13'11x10'9), fitted kitchen and bathroom/wc. £245,000
That's a quarter of a million pounds for one third of the family home that Edward probably bought for just a couple of hundred pounds. How London changes. And my great grandparents would notice one other enormous change around here since 1920 - the neighbours. West Kilburn is now a mixed multicultural neighbourhood where people of all races and creeds live, and work, together. Shops along the Harrow Road sell foods my great grandfather would never have heard of, and people speak languages that my great grandfather would never have heard. This is modern London, where several cultures live together in harmony. Or, at least, almost everybody does. You never know quite who's living over the road, behind the twitching net curtains.

Routemaster RIP
15 11 23 94 6 98 8 7 137 9 73 390 12 36 19 already passed away
14 (Putney - Tottenham Court Road) died yesterday [bittersweet report from Matt]
22 (Putney - Piccadilly Circus) deceased yesterday [report from Inspector Sands]
13 (Golders Green - Aldwych) expires 21st October 2005
38 (Victoria - Clapton Pond) goes bendy after 28th October 2005
159 (Marble Arch - Streatham) extinction date 9th December 2005 [and that's it]
[with just two 'heritage routes' to follow]

 Friday, July 22, 2005

Commuting home from work - a Qualitative Risk Analysis

Risk 1: Being in the office
Hazard: Fatal paper cut; scalded by machine-vended hot chocolate; electrocuted by rogue photocopier; tie caught in paper shredder; crushed by toppling filing cabinet; inappropriate use of hole punch.
Risk: Negligible [only about 200 people are killed each year in the UK in workplace accidents]

Risk 2: Sitting at my desk, refreshing a selection of internet webpages in an attempt to discover the latest news on the failed London bombings
Hazard: Repetitive strain injury; long term spinal damage from poor seating posture; eyestrain leading to premature sight failure
Risk: Nil [obviously my employer's detailed health and safety policies protect me completely]

Risk 3a: Taking the lift to the ground floor
Hazard: Plunging to my doom following a terrible accident involving a severed lift cable
Risk: Fictional [these things tend to happen only in Hollywood movies]
Risk 3b: Walking to the ground floor
Hazard: Slipping accidentally on the top stair and breaking my neck in the ensuing fall
Risk: Relatively tiny [there are only approximately 100 annual fatalities on non-domestic stairs]

Risk 4: Exiting the office and walking along the pavement outside
Hazard: Tripped by passing wheelie suitcase; forced to inhale clouds of cancerous cigarette smoke wafting from office doorway; mugged by evil London street-vermin; hit on head by falling scaffolding; approached by charity representative with clipboard and forced smile; innocent victim of drive-by shooting; bitten by giant rat
Risk: Particularly hazardous [as everyone outside London knows, the capital is much more dangerous than where they live]

Risk 5: Using a pedestrian crossing at a busy central London road junction
Hazard: Swept along by crowd of passing French tourists; dragged beneath wheels of passing bendy bus; mowed down by procession of cyclists ignoring yet another red traffic light; suffering lung damage after inhaling ozone and exhaust fumes; crushed by white van accidentally mounting tiny traffic island; tempted to cross road during brief gap in traffic, only to be splattered by speeding motorcyclist
Risk: Unexpectedly perilous [the pedestrian crossing outside Holborn tube station must be one of the most dangerous in the country]

Risk 6: Going home on the tube during a time of heightened national security
Hazard: No, really, I'm not thinking about it (much)
Risk: Still insignificant [compared to the daily horrors lurking on the pavements and streets outside]

 Thursday, July 21, 2005

What we learnt from yesterday's comments about comments

TuesdayWednesday
Time taken to write post1 minute3 hours
Length of post12 words908 words
Effort expendednegligibleconsiderable
Number of daily website visitors
(measured in double decker busfuls)		7 buses8 buses
Number of comments4154

• An effortful post can get more comments than a effortless post

What sort of blogposts get more comments?
• Posts about universal topics which everyone can relate to (e.g. food, TV)
• Posts on topics (or news) about which readers have strong opinions
• Posts that are short, sharp and to the point ('quickie' posts)
• Posts about blogging (e.g. why do people write comments?)
• Deliberately interactive posts (e.g. quizzes)
• Deliberately provocative posts
• Posts that pose a question

What sort of blogposts get less comments?
• Posts about places that readers have never visited
• Posts about things that readers have never experienced
• Posts so long that people don't have the time to read them
• Posts so long that the comments box doesn't appear on the main screen
• Posts so comprehensive that there's nothing more to add
• Posts that are informative rather than opinionated
• Overlooked posts (i.e. those more than a day old)
• Posts made at weekends

Conclusions
• It is worth writing effortful posts
• It's hard to write a comment when you have nothing to say
• Just because people don't comment doesn't mean they're not interested
• Just because people don't comment doesn't mean they're not appreciative
• Some effortless posts get comments, but a blog with only effortless posts will get none
• Sometimes comments boxes are much more interesting than the post they're commenting on
• People who only read blogs via RSS or newsfeeds are missing out on the comments, and on commenting
• An effortful post can get more effortful comments than a effortless post
• Gratuitous comment whoring is shallow and vacuous
• You like my London stuff even if you don't comment on it (roll on August!)
• It's great to read comments from readers who don't normally comment - thanks
• You're all lovely

What we learnt from the day before yesterday's comments about doughnuts
• You like talking about doughnuts almost as much as you like eating them
• You're twice as likely to prefer a filled doughnut to a holey doughnut
• Your favourite filling is jam (which is well ahead of apple or custard)
• You know sugary doughnuts are bad for you but you still want 'em
• The Krispy Kreme invasion has begun - beware
• It's doughnut, not donut

 Wednesday, July 20, 2005

Why bother?

Thank you for taking part in yesterday's experiment. You confirmed all my worst fears. And it had nothing whatsoever to do with doughnuts...

• On Saturday I went on a thrilling random tour of the London Borough of Southwark. The whole visit (including valuable drinking time at the London United festival) took eight hours. Writing up the whole experience took several more hours, plus even more time to find a shedload of appropriate weblinks and still more time to upload various photos into flickr.
• On Tuesday I wrote an incredibly brief post about doughnuts.

The results were somewhat disappointing:
MondayTuesday
Time taken to research post8 hours0 minutes
Time taken to write post4 hours1 minute
Length of post805 words12 words
Number of photos uploaded460
Weblinks incorporated in text461
Effort expendedtonsnegligible
Number of daily website visitors
(measured in double decker busfuls)		6 buses7 buses
Number of comments537

There are two types of blogpost - those that take a bit of effort to compose and those that don't. And it appears from my experience of the last couple of days that short, focused, effortless posts get a much more positive response than sprawling, diffuse, effortful posts. My 12 word post about doughnuts elicited seven times more comments than my 800 word Southwark monster (that's an astonishing 3 comments per word as opposed to 40 words per comment). With absolutely no effort on my part whatsoever, you lot wrote Tuesday's blogpost for me. Thank you. On Tuesday I also got 15% more visitors than on Monday, and all for minimal outlay. Looking deeper behind the scenes, Monday's 46 weblinks received an average of less than five clicks each (most rather less, and none more than 17), whereas Tuesday's single weblink (which wasn't even very good) managed 41. And all those flickr photos of Southwark that I pleaded with you to flick through? Just 10% of you did, and less than 5% of you made it all the way through to photo number 46. Why do I bother?

But there are two types of blogpost for a reason. Weblogs started out as logs of websites, lists of bookmarks that internet users considered might be interesting to others. Blogs were never meant to be effortful, they were just meant to be useful. And then people started annotating their weblinks, and writing more, and writing more, and maybe not including any weblinks at all. Nowadays most blogs more resemble a journal, or a diary, a platform for sounding-off or just a playground for creativity. There are of course still several posts out there that take no effort at all (linking to inane quizzes such as "What breed of hamster are you?" springs to mind). But an awful lot of bloggers, even if they're not investing 4 hours per post, put a lot of effort into their blogs. And it can really suck not to get any positive feedback. Why do they bother?

A lot of bloggers bother to blog because they like to get feedback. That feedback can come from the number of visitors you receive, or the number of other blogs that link to you, or the number of comments you get. All of which can make for very dispiriting non-feedback when you first start blogging. It can take ages to get your daily number of visitors up to a respectable number, even into double figures, even when you know that what you're writing deserves a wider audience. It can take ages for other bloggers to link to you, especially when it seems all the established bloggers are just linking to other established bloggers. And it can take ages to start getting regular comments on your posts, even when you have regular visitors, because writing comments takes effort on the part of the reader. And all this perceived lack of interest can feel like a lack of validation. Why do we bother?

Well, I know why I bother. I blog for me, and if I get a positive response from you lot then it's a bonus. If you're not interested in something I'm writing about, well, bad luck. My week-long walk down the Regent's Canal, for example, attracted 25% fewer visitors than usual, and you lot wrote only a quarter of your usual number of comments. But I didn't care because I wanted to write it, and because I don't equate a lack of comments with a lack of interest. That's why I bother.

So I think that blogs would be much more functional with one additional valuable element of feedback - something more than visitor numbers, trackbacks and comments. When I read someone else's really good blogpost I'd like to be able to tick a little box at the bottom that says "Thanks, I really enjoyed reading this". It would take virtually no effort on my part to tick this particular box, but it would also allow me to give positive feedback even when I don't have a worthwhile comment to add to the debate. Individual TV programmes have a Audience Appreciation Index, so why can't blogposts have something similar? It would be really great if there was a little box like this at the bottom of your blogposts, because I'd probably tick it frequently. But, honestly, I can live happily without such a box on mine.

Thanks, I really enjoyed reading this (59)

 Tuesday, July 19, 2005

test

Doughnuts (or is it donuts?)
Are they better with or without holes?

 Monday, July 18, 2005

Random borough 6: Southwark (part 2)

Somewhere historic/famous: the Thames
Southwark drips with history, particularly the northern slice alongside the Thames. This was the rough lawless side of the river, safely tucked away from the wealth of Westminster and the pomp of the City, a bolthole for criminals, prostitutes and the poor. But Southwark also developed as a thriving home to traders, travellers and entertainers, thanks in particular to its location beside the one bridge across the Thames out of London.

So, when I came to select 'somewhere historic' to visit in Southwark, I was spoilt for choice. All along the Thames there were far too many fascinating sites to choose from. So I walked the lot, from the Oxo Tower in the west to Greenland Dock in the east, and very pleasant it was too. Below are the highlights. For the full walk, go view my annotated photos. Go on, I took them for you, you know.

www.flickr.com : Take a virtual walk through Southwark-on-Thames.

A riverside stroll from the Oxo Tower to Greenland Dock
Mile 1: The first mile took me along the world famous South Bank, beside the Tate Modern and past the recreated Globe Theatre. Tourists streamed along the gleaming river's edge, flitting from sight to sight and from pub to pier. Just before London Bridge there was an embarassment of historical riches, including the infamous Clink prison, Sir Francis Drake's Golden Hinde and the immaculate Southwark Cathedral. Beat that, Barking & Dagenham.
Mile 2: Further along the Thames the testicular City Hall is still totally eclipsed by the iconic sight of Tower Bridge. Redevelopment is key along the cobbled Shad Thames and past the Design Museum. All along Bermondsey Riverside wharves are being converted, or more likely demolished, to make way for new blocks of housing. Nobody works here any more, they just live where work used to be. An old lady stopped me in Chambers Street, bemoaned the lawless nature of the local children and then encouraged me to go and view a local apartment being sold by a friend of hers. Just in case any of you have £425K to spare here are the details, and tell them Brenda sent you. New London is way out of my price bracket.
Mile 3: It was quieter through Rotherhithe, but with a brief stretch of genuine historical significance around Brunel's Thames Tunnel Engine House. The Pilgrim Fathers set sail in the Mayflower from the quayside here in 1620, and Captain Christopher Jones returned to be buried at St Mary's in 1622. The rest of Rotherhithe's riverfront would be unrecognisable to him now - an endless swathe of modern apartments hugging the river's edge.
Mile 4: It's a very long way round the rim of the Rotherhithe peninsula. Every now and then a watery inlet hints at the area's maritime past - originally 85% of the peninsula was dockland, now it's almost all residential. One of the few docks not to have been filled in is Greenland Dock, now an attractive backdrop to several waterside developments. Read the full redevelopment story here, or take a BBC 'Coast' walk here.
by tube: Southwark, London Bridge, Bermondsey, Rotherhithe, Surrey Quays, by bus: 381

Somewhere diverse: the Rise London United festival
Every year the Mayor (or rather his hard-working staff) organises a free music and dance event celebrating the capital's diversity and promoting anti-racism. Every year the festival is hosted by a different London borough, and last Saturday it was Southwark's turn. So I went along. In the aftermath of last week's terrible events the official title of the festival had been changed to 'London United', but it had been too late to change the Rise programme, the Rise stickers and most of the other Rise branding. Still, if the day was meant as a celebration of all things multicultural then it was a huge success. I joined the masses flooding into Burgess Park, many no doubt from the neighbouring Aylesbury Estate, to bake in the afternoon heat. Every colour of skin was present - except white, because that had all tanned a nice shade of brown thank you very much. A huge crowd mixed around the main sound stage enjoying performances from such global superstars as Raghav, Horace Andy and (erm) Goldie Looking Chain. Elsewhere there was an Urban stage, a Mela stage, an African stage and a Cuban stage - there really was something for everyone. Alcohol became an essential tool for quenching one's thirst, while an understated police presence ignored the funny cigarette smoke wafting over certain parts of the crowd. There were the usual worthy stalls supporting downtrodden workers and communities. But most of all there were the happy smiling faces of a cohesive London community out enjoying themselves, together. London, united.
by train/tube: none, by bus: 42, 343

 Sunday, July 17, 2005

Random borough 6: Southwark

The London borough of Southwark has pretty much everything. It stretches five miles top to bottom, from the historic south bank of the Thames through the multicultural estates of Camberwell and Peckham to the green suburban avenues of Dulwich. Just for once I was spoilt for choice for where to visit, so the borough's comprehensive tourist websites were most useful in planning my itinerary. I hope I've managed to sum up Southwark's diversity and vibrancy in what follows. Part one today, part two tomorrow.

Somewhere retail: Borough Market
When Waitrose isn't good enough, where better to buy food of quality and distinction than underneath the railway arches beside Southwark Cathedral? There's been a market here for 250 years, but it's only recently that Borough Market has evolved into a foodie gourmand's paradise. Assuming you like scallops and camembert, that is. This is more of an open-air delicatessen than your normal fruit and veg market. The food divides subtly into traditional British fare (like game, strawberries and chutney) and fine European specialities (like chorizo, falafel and dolmades). So, every weekend, the dark arches beneath Borough Viaduct buzz with those special kind of people who love to spend all day faffing about with food. The morning's for shopping ("hmm darling, venison or partridge?"), the afternoon's for cooking ("could you chop the samphire, dear, and throw in the olives?") and the evening's for slow, glittering dining ("heavens, these quail's eggs are divine, and the smoked eel is to die for"). Personally I couldn't resist a fine steak, kidney, herb and ale pie (from Bristol bakers pieminister - highly recommended) for a bit of top quality lunch-on-the-go. But I suspect, having spotted a Sainsburys on the high street and a Lidl down the road, that very few of the Borough Market shoppers actually live locally.
by tube: London Bridge

Somewhere pretty: Dulwich Art Gallery
Like many London other suburbs Dulwich started out as a small hamlet but, unlike most other suburbs, it still retains a little rural charm. That's probably because Dulwich College (established by Edward Alleyn in 1619) owned most of the land around here, so when the railways came they were careful to restrict the impact of suburban sprawl. And now Dulwich is about as sought-after as it gets (hell, even Margaret Thatcher bought a top-notch gated pad round here). The avenues are broad, but the houses are broader. Dulwich, Common? It's nothing of the sort. So you'd expect the local art gallery to be a bit special, and it is. This is Britain's first public art gallery, opened in 1817 to house a bequest of top European paintings. The gallery is small but perfectly formed, just a handful of high-walled rooms subtly lit by overhead roof-lanterns. The collection covers the 16th, 17th and 18th centuries - a lot of portraits and landscapes, and a fair spattering of cherubs and peasants. But it's still pretty impressive to stumble across works by Rembrandt, Gainsborough, Canaletto and Rubens - here in the quiet London suburbs. At the moment four of the galleries are given over to the 20th century artist Graham Sutherland, a brief but fascinating restrospective of twisted red and yellow landscapes, and bombed streets from the 1940s. I bypassed the modern cafe on the way out and headed instead for a chocolate ice cream across the road in Dulwich Park. And I can quite see why Charles Dickens chose to retire Mr Pickwick in a Dulwich cottage, "contemplating the pictures in the Dulwich Gallery or enjoying a walk about the pleasant neighbourhood on a fine day."
by train: North Dulwich, by bus: P4

The London Olympics 1948
Somewhere sporting: Herne Hill Velodrome
Southwark is surprisingly under-endowed with top sporting venues. There may have been bear-baiting pits on the southern bank of the Thames 400 years ago but thankfully they've long gone. There is still top Ryman League action down at Dulwich Hamlet (at the foot of Dog Kennel Lane, next to a giant Sainsbury's), but they were playing a pre-season friendly in Surrey on Saturday so I didn't stop off there either. But in 1948 the cycling events at the London Olympics were held here, on the western edge of the borough at the Herne Hill Velodrome, so that's where I went. The very place where good old Reg Harris stormed to win the silver medal in the 1000m matched sprint. I knew it wasn't Olympic standard any more, and I knew there had been some serious leasehold problems here recently, but I hoped I'd be able to gain access or at least peer inside. No such luck. The velodrome lies hidden and locked away behind a veil of houses, and a smokescreen of bitterness. Southwark Council's lease expired six months ago but, with £7m needed to refurbish the stadium, the Dulwich Estate rejected their request for a five year extension. Instead they have plans to develop the site as a "leisure facility", which might mean more cycling or it might mean a casino, you never know. There's certainly no love lost in this bickering bureaucratic row, with the unfortunate two-wheeler brigade left watching impotently from the sidelines. Further details at the Velodrome's official site, or get your cycle clips on and pedal over to onionbagblogger. [July 19 update: Velodrome reopens Aug 5!]
by train: North Dulwich, by bus: 37

(more tomorrow, including a riverside walk and a big festival in a park)

 Saturday, July 16, 2005

Random borough (6): It's time I took another random trip to one of London's 33 boroughs (yup, I have nothing better to do this weekend). Five down, 28 to go. I wonder which name will be on the folded slip of paper I'm about to pick from the special jamjar that sits on the floor beside my computer. I could pick any of the remaining boroughs - inner or outer, north or south, urban or suburban, fascinating or dull. Hell, it could even be Barking and Dagenham. I just know it won't be Merton, Islington, Enfield , Sutton or Lewisham because they're the five (dark grey) boroughs I've picked out already.

Once I've researched my randomly-chosen borough online I'll then head off and visit some of its most interesting places, assuming it has any. I hope to visit somewhere famous, somewhere historic, somewhere pretty, somewhere retail, somewhere sporty and somewhere random. And then I'll come back tomorrow and tell you all about it. Let's see where I'm going this time...

2012 London Olympic transport legacy: Last week, a few hours before other events overtook, Transport for London released a map showing the key transport routes that should be in place in time for the Olympics in 2012. That's the whole of the current Underground network plus all the new bits they're building, or planning to build, over the next seven years. You can take a look at the map here (hi-res) or here (low-res) [both maps taken from TfL's press centre image gallery]. The bad news if you live in north, west or south London is that most of the new projects are up my end of town. Still, that'll just make it easier for the rest of you to travel out east come 2012, won't it?

Summary of new projects: [further details on Dave's excellent alwaystouchout.com]
• Eurostar: new fast rail link to Stratford International and St Pancras [May 2007]
• DLR extensions: to City Airport [December 2005], to Woolwich Arsenal [2008] and from Canning Town to Stratford International [2010]
• East London Line: Dalston Junction to New Cross, Crystal Palace and West Croydon [2010]
• East London Transit: trams from Ilford and Romford to Gallions Reach and Dagenham Dock [2007]
• Greenwich Waterfront Transit: trams from Greenwich (via the Dome) to Thamesmead and Abbey Wood [2009]
• New stations: Imperial Wharf [2005], Shepherd's Bush [2005], Heathrow Terminal 5 [2008]
• Better trains: refurbished trains on the District line [by 2008], new trains on the Victoria line [from 2009]
• Increased capacity: 50% on the DLR (Bank-Lewisham) [by 2006], 45% on the Jubilee line [by 2009], 18% on the Northern line [by 2011]

Bow Road station update* (*because we all care now, don't we?)
After several decades of faithful service, the lights in the old 'next train' indicators were finally extinguished at Bow Road this week. The glass may have been cracked and held together by sticky tape, but I shall miss them. This sudden termination still leaves passengers with the shiny new 'next train' indicators but these are, as I've already mentioned, thus far no more functional than the old. 17 months of work and there's still not been one change, not one improvement, not one thing to improve my daily commute. The big tower of blue portakabins remains on the pavement outside the station, so Metronet must still have some small behind-the-scenes stuff to complete, but public money is still dripping away here for no particularly obvious reason.

 Friday, July 15, 2005

Harry Potter and the Half-Blurred Prince

Chapter 1: Privet Drive, again

A cloud of sickly sweet smoke blew from the upper window at number 4 Privet Drive. A relaxed Harry Potter lay back on his bed and flicked another empty can of cider into the waste paper basket. Damn the local police for slapping that Asbo on him. How could the local magistrates have understood what had really happened on the first night of the summer holidays? He'd been battling an escaped gargoyle in the bus shelter on the High Street when a mistimed Dramaticus Detonatus spell had caused the unfortunate beast to explode. The bright red liquid the police had found splattered all over the walls inside had been nothing to do with aerosol street art, whatever they might have thought. Harry sighed. It was never easy being an undercover teenage assassin. So here he was, locked away in his tiny bedroom with just thoughts of Hermione and a box of tissues to keep him company.

How Harry longed to get back to Hogwarts and the first year of his Magical A level studies. He was planning on taking Potions, Alchemy and Spelling, although Professor Dumbledore had also insisted he enrol for Double Dark Arts as well. Harry wondered who the new supply teacher might be this year, and whether he or she would ever bother to mark any of his mountain of coursework. An owl tapped at the window carrying a glowing envelope in his beak. "Oh Voldemort!" thought Harry, "it's my GCSE results!" The envelope opened itself as it flapped into the room, landing on the bedside table with a dejected thud. Harry frowned when he saw that his list of grades contained more Es than that nightclub Ron had taken him to a few Saturdays back.

Harry's acne was erupting again. Cousin Dudley had teased him about it all summer, gloating that so famous a magician couldn't keep his sebaceous glands under control. Stupid muggle. Did he not realise that Harry was a world-class athlete, lifting the quidditch gold medal at the recent Hogwarts Magilympics. All that and a multi-million pound sponsorship deal with Ollivanders into the bargain. At least Uncle Vernon still hadn't spotted Harry's deadly nightshade tattoo, carefully inked out of sight halfway down the small of his back. It was good being the Gryffyndor rebel, thought Harry, even if nobody else knew.

The owl had left another package on the bedroom floor. Impatiently Harry ripped off one end of the brown cardboard wrapper and was delighted to see, glistening inside, a copy of that wizard new book by the famous Scottish authoress. He'd had to fork out a small fortune to get his hands on a copy, but Amazon's airmail service had delivered right on time just as they'd promised. Suddenly the weekend didn't look quite so bad after all. Harry could bury himself in the strangely familiar story and block out all that adolescent angst, despair and inappropriate thoughts about cleavage. Eagerly he turned to chapter one and began reading...

(remainder of text embargoed until midnight tonight)

 Thursday, July 14, 2005

Two minute silence bomb scare: With a little judicious juggling of work commitments, I conspired to be passing through Piccadilly Circus just before 12 noon today. Londoners and tourists alike were emerging from shops and hotels to stand respectfully around the perimeter of the Circus, in readiness for the two minute silence being observed across the capital this lunchtime. I thought I'd join the crowds standing around Eros but, as I reached Lillywhites, I noticed that everyone was being kept back away from the area immediately surrounding the world-famous statue. I edged as close as I could, taking up position beside a stall of 'I love London' t-shirts, only to discover that a policemen ahead of me was attempting, without much success, to move everybody backwards. The assembled crowd, intent on remembering London's dead, couldn't quite work out why they were suddenly being asked to leave the area at one minute to twelve, the only clue being the roll of red and white sticky tape in the policeman's hand. "It's a bomb scare," said the stallholder, although the policeman was careful never to utter those particular words. You probably spent the two minute silence remembering the appalling loss of human life brought about by last Thursday's terrorist outrage. I spent the two minute 'silence' being ushered slowly away from a central London tourist location, hoping that this wasn't the continuation of a terrible nightmare. It's not the way I'd have chosen to remember but, believe me, it was very effective.

jeudi, 14 juillet, 2005: Le Jour de La Bastille


Not the Paris Olympics 2012

Olympic snapshots: Not the Olympic Stadium
This is the Stade de France, on the northern edge of central Paris. Be honest. A fortnight ago this is where you thought the 2012 Olympics were going to be held. Even when Jacques Rogge was ripping open his big white envelope I still thought this was going to be where the 2012 Olympics were going to be held. And that's why I stopped by at the end of my day in the French capital three months ago, just to say I'd been.

It was really quiet on the evening of my visit, just three young garçons busy skating and laughing around the locked metal perimeter of this huge sporting amphitheatre. The weekend traffic hurled by across the flyover, and the sun glinted in the windows of the opportunistic boxy hotel erected to one side. A bit further down, at the mouth of the subway beneath the Périphérique, un local homme sat on a low wall watching disinterestedly while his grand chien took some exercise around the concrete piazza. A row of posters attached to the metal security railings, double-mounted in primary Olympic colours, celebrated the French capital's 2012 dreams. This was a ready-made world stage, perfectly suited for "L'Amour des Jeux", but it may have been the off-the-peg nature of the French bid that ultimately cost the capital dear. London promised legacy and transformation, or at least it put its case for legacy and transformation better, and in the end this corner of Paris lost out.

Which is a shame because, just like Stratford, this part of the French capital isn't yet throbbing with wealth. It too is a multicultural neighbourhood of low-cost housing, a semi-run-down light industrial quarter. There may be a brand spanking new railway station here just down the avenue, but the local hooded youth still jump the ticket barriers to avoid paying their fare. The Stade and its surrounding development have brought opportunity to the area, but from what I saw this had yet to be fully realised. And now the local population's best chance for self-betterment has been eradicated, and all because two more gentlemen in a conference centre in Singapore chose my neighbourhood over theirs. The view in the photograph below will never contain an Aquatic Centre, and even after 2012 the locals will continue to have to trek across town to their nearest swimming pool. Je suis trés désolé, mes amis. Peut-être voudriez-vous acheter les billets pour ma nouvelle piscine locale?

Olympic snapshots: Not le Centre Aquatique

London 54 2012, Paris 52 nil

 Wednesday, July 13, 2005

The London Olympics 2012

Olympic snapshots: Olympic Stadium
Last Wednesday now seems a very long time ago, but July 2012 is considerably more distant. 367 weeks away to be precise, during which period the bland industrial trading estate in this photo will be resurrected as the world's top athletics stadium. Really, precisely, exactly, here. As you can see, there's an awful lot of work to be done first.

Marshgate Lane runs across the very bottom of this photograph. The road up the centre of the photo is a side-turning about the length of a 200m sprint, ending at a metal fence beneath a raised bank of earth a short distance in front of the City Mill River. At the far end on the right is Arnell House, home since 1988 to the Tyrone Group, specialists in the manufacture and distribution of lace and voile window furnishings. Not for much longer though. Look, here are photographs of the happy smiling (pre-Olympic) staff - whose jobs at the company head office are now more than just threatened, they're doomed. I'm sure the LDA will offer the company money to set up elsewhere, but whether that money will be enough to afford a new showroom even vaguely nearby is another matter. The Mercedes after-sales centre nextdoor has got to shift, as has the adjacent Bywaters 'special waste' depot and all the surrounding warehouses too. It can't be too many months before the compulsory purchase orders start rolling in.

But it was business as usual here when I visited last week. I've wandered up this road several times before but last Wednesday afternoon was different - this was no longer the site of a potential Olympic Stadium, it was the real thing. You could tell something had changed because there was one neighbourhood feature I'd never seen before - film crews. Up on the Greenway, the great Victorian sewer that crosses the Lower Lea Valley, two feral kids on BMX bikes asked me if I was looking for 'the filmers'. Beyond the bushes I spotted the media pointing a big black camera at the bleakest industrial landscape they could find, while a second group wandered (tripod in hand) towards the doomed businesses below in search of a choice quote for the evening news. In a second sideroad, adjacent to Forman's salmon-coloured fish-smoking plant, I spotted this big skip adrift on the pavement beneath a long grey warehouse wall. The tower of waste piled up inside was prophetically symbolic of the fate of many of those who currently work down Marshgate Lane.

But in seven years time this very spot will be the most famous location on the planet, beamed live into the homes of billions of people around the world. Relay finishes, high jump finals, world record-breaking performances, wheelchair sprints and medal ceremonies - they'll all be happening within a javelin's throw of this skip. A couple of weeks of inspirational athletic performances surrounded by a golden halo of cheering spectators, right here where they currently distribute net curtains. And, somewhere high up in the sky where grey pylons now dominate, the Olympic flame will shine down a message of hope and friendship across a revitalised East London. Standing last Wednesday in the centre of the future Olympic arena I struggled in vain to picture the all-transforming reality that 2012 will bring but, at last, I felt as if anything was possible. This trading estate cul-de-sac is no longer a dead end.

 Tuesday, July 12, 2005

Silver discs (July 1980)
A monthly look back at the top singles of 25 years ago

The three best records from the Top 10 (8th July 1980)
Olivia Newton-John & Electric Light Orchestra - Xanadu: How do you follow Grease? With a sugary homage to roller disco, of course. Forget leather jackets and rock'n'roll, this film revelled in Kids From Fame chic. Olivia fell from heaven and sang a lot, Gene Kelly twirled his last upon the silver screen, and ELO began their gradual descent from all-conquering art-pop greatness. Some people adore this musical's camp schmaltz charm, but Samuel Taylor Coleridge must have been turning in his grave.
"A place where nobody dared to go, the love that we came to know they call it Xanadu. And now open your eyes and see, what we have made is real, we are in Xanadu"
Odyssey - Use It Up And Wear It Out: Think disco, and this song will whistle into your subconscious within seconds. An infectious dose of latin rhythm, performed by native New Yorker Tony Reynolds and alliterative sisters Lillian and Louise Lopez. Think funk soul sisters, think wide grins, think big beaded hair (but, whatever you do, don't think about Pat and Mick's 1990 remake).
"We're gonna use it up, wear it out, ain't nothin' left in this whole world I care about. I said one two three shake your body down (shake it on down to me)"
Splodgenessabounds - Two Pints Of Lager And A Packet of Crisps Please: The original A-side may have been 'Simon Templar' but nobody cared because the barside rant on the flipside was an aural act of quirky genius. Singer Max Splodge's increasingly drunken frustration at being ignored by a pub landlord struck a chord with an inebriated nation, and the song's title slipped smoothly into the English vernacular. It was especially disappointing, therefore, when the BBC sitcom of the same name abandoned this punk anthem in favour of some anaemic low-alcohol spritzer of a theme tune. Time gentlemen please.
"Two pints of lager and a packet of crisps, please. Two pints of lager and a packet of crisps, please. I'll have two pints of lager and a packet of crisps, please. I'll have some pickled onions and a little bit of cheese please, thank you."

My three favourite records from July 1980 (at the time)
Kate Bush - Babooshka: My cousin was always the devout Bush fan (for all I know he still has a shrine hidden away in his bedroom somewhere), hooked completely and utterly ever since Kate appeared in 1978 with the divinely whirling Wuthering Heights. Me, I saw in Babooshka's lyric the perfect 'Tales of the Unexpected' plotline to use in my O-Level English Language creative writing examination, should the right title come up on the paper. It didn't, so I wrote about being scared of the dark instead, but the song remains a work of soaring greatness (and smashed crockery).
"She wanted to test her husband, she knew exactly what to do. A pseudonym to fool him, she couldn't have made a worse move. She sent him scented letters and he received them with a strange delight, just like his wife."
Orchestral Manoeuvres In The Dark - Messages: Debut top 40 single from the band with the bizarre but deviously memorable name. McCluskey and Humphreys proved that even the simplest one finger synth ditty could enchant if topped off with deadpan aching vocals, and in this case a bit of wailing thrown in at the end for good measure. A glittering (but acrimonious) career followed, with Andy more recently achieving demigod status as the pop svengali behind Atomic Kitten.
"I'd write and tell you that I've burnt them all, but you never send me your address and I've kept them anyway"
Joy Division - Love Will Tear Us Apart: Confession time. I'd like to say I loved this record when it first came out, because it's always better to spot greatness at the time than to miss out and have to catch up later. Alas, this seminal indie masterpiece slipped beneath my radar at the time, not meriting even a 30-second snippet laid down on the cassette tapes I was recording off the radio at the time. Ian, I apologise.
"Why is the bedroom so cold? Turned away on your side, is my timing that flawed?"

20 other hits from 25 years ago: Everybody's Gotta Learn Sometime (Korgis), Cupid (Detroit Spinners), A Lover's Holiday (Change), Lip Up Fatty (Bad Manners), Me Myself I (Joan Armatrading), Jump To The Beat (Stacy Lattisaw), My Way Of Thinking (UB40), Midnite Dynamos (Matchbox), Could You Be Loved (Bob Marley), Sanctuary (New Musik), Waterfalls (Paul McCartney), My Girl (Whispers), There There My Dear (Dexy's Midnight Runners), Mariana (Gibson Brothers), Sleepwalk (Ultravox), Emotional Rescue (Rolling Stones), Let's Hang On (Darts), King's Call (Phil Lynott), Whole Lotta Rosie (AC/DC), Wednesday Week (Undertones)...which one would you pick?

 Monday, July 11, 2005

 London borough quiz
London = consonant vowel consonant consonant vowel consonant
Seven London boroughs follow the same cvccvc pattern - which 7?
And can you identify 18 other boroughs in a similar way?
   A) cvccvc
   B) cvccvc
   C) cvccvc
   D) cvccvc
   E) cvccvc
   F) cvccvc
   G) cvccvc  


1) ccvcc
2) vvcvcc
3) ccvccvc
4) ccvccvc
5) cvcccvc
6) cvccvcc
7) vccvvcc
8) cvcvccvc
9) cvcvccvc    
10) cvvcccvc
11) cvcvcvcc
12) ccvvccvcc
13) cvcccvccv
14) cvvcccvcc
15) vccvcccvc
16) cvccccvccc
17) cvccvcccvc
18) cvcccvcccvc
(Answers in the comments box)

London future: There's so much to look forward to in London in July.

• Monday 11th July 2005: Open for business - normal life continues.
• Tuesday 12th July 2005: Bloc Party (Somerset House, 8pm) The penultimate in the annual series of summer concerts.
• until Wednesday 13th July 2005: City of London Arts Festival (but you've missed the concert at the top of the gherkin)
• Friday 15th July 2005: Queen (Hyde Park) Supported by Peter Kay and Razorlight, but without Freddie.
• Friday 15th July 2005: The First Night of the Proms (Albert Hall, 7pm) Berlioz, Mendelssohn, Elgar and Tippett [until 10th Sept]
• Saturday 16th July 2005: Rise Festival (Burgess Park, Camberwell, 12 noon) "London's top free music and dance festival, celebrating the capital's diversity and promoting anti-racism in a day-long festival."
• Saturday 16th July 2005: Renaissance (Three Mills Green, E3, 9:30pm) "Audiences will be surrounded by towering architectural imagery, choreographed JCBs, aerial performance and pyrotechnics as a city of dreams takes shape around them." [Part of the Greenwich and Docklands Festival]
• Sunday 17th July 2005: The Big Day Out (Hackney Town Hall Square, 12 noon) "Hackney Council has let the Spice Festival use the two adjoining squares for an open day of cultural multrilism (sic)." [part of the Spice Festival]
• Thursday 21st July 2005: First Ashes test (Lord's) England v Australia - time for a good thrashing
• Friday 22nd July 2005: Sprite Urban Games (Clapham Common) "See the world’s best skateboarders, BMXers, Freestyle Motor Cross riders and B-boys." [until Sunday 24th]
• Saturday 23rd July 2005: Drako (Royal Arsenal, Woolwich, 9:30pm) "A dragon awakens and sets off on a terrifying journey through the streets of Woolwich accompanied by a foolhardy circus impressario." [Part of the Greenwich and Docklands Festival]
• Friday 27th July 2012: The Olympic Games (down the end of my road, 7pm-ish) Open to the world - abnormal life continues.

 Sunday, July 10, 2005

Victoria Park, E3
lay a towel on the grass
shades on, stretch out, relax
a low roar on the eastern horizon
sunworshippers stir and look upwards
procession of planes flying in formation
biplanes, Dakotas, Flying Fortresses
Lancaster, Hurricane and Spitfire
buzzing into the western sky
the East End remembers
back to the suntan

The Living Museum

There's been an enormous military presence in central London this week. Scores of army personnel have seen been rounding up civilians, searching their hand luggage and then corralling them behind makeshift barriers in the Royal Parks. Don't worry, it's all been in a good cause, and it's had absolutely nothing to do with 'the other' events of the week. A Living Museum opened in St James Park on Monday, organised by the Ministry of Defence as part of the 60th anniversary commemoration of the end of World War 2. It's a great idea - a series of 1940s exhibits with the focus on people, not on instruments of death - and a welcome opportunity for war veterans to remember and be remembered.

So, while the Queen was busy yesterday afternoon unveiling the new Women of World War II memorial in Whitehall, I went and queued up in the Mall for a trip back in time instead. I'll say one thing for the armed forces - they organise a damned efficient bag search. We then snaked into the main exhibition area through an unnecessary chicane of metal barriers - two easy minutes for me but walking hell for a few of the 80-year olds hobbling behind me. Never mind, there were ham and piccalilli sandwiches available in the veterans catering area at one end, although I hope they weren't original NAAFI rations.

By the entrance I saw an old soldier in full regimental uniform and medals standing chatting to a young modern recruit with a celtic tattoo poking out beneath his khaki sleeves. A significant number of attendees looked like they'd seen active service fifty or sixty years ago, but they'd also brought along their grandchildren to pass on unforgettable wartime experiences to a new generation. Look kids, there's a German tank, and listen, that's the sound of the All Clear, and hey, let's give you a rifle and show you how to handle it. Several re-enactments brought the past nostalgically back to life. I cowered as ack ack guns and searchlights spun round to fight off an air raid, I watched uniformed pilots scramble into the cockpit of a Spitfire and I listened to the old music hall songs that kept the nation entertained back on the Home Front.

It was good to see several displays devoted to the often forgotten war in the Far East where so many soldiers fought and perished. And every level of wartime contribution was remembered, from the vegetable growers of the Land Army to the essential work of the Medical Corps, and from an evacuee support network to the codebreakers at Bletchley Park. Rather more up to date, I discovered GCHQ recruiting at the back of one tent, and the MoD were running a deviously interactive scratchcard competition in another (yay, I won a free wallet and an illuminated pen). So many people were smiling and enjoying the day, it's a pity that such an impressive participatory event will almost certainly never happen again.

Today is National Commemoration Day, the culmination of this week's events. You can still get into the Living Museum until 1pm this afternoon (and if you can, do), and then there's a show on Horseguards and a parade and flypast on the Mall. The aircraft taking part in the flypast are due to gather over Victoria Park in East London later this afternoon, so I'll be down there to see the sky filled with airpower as it might have been back in the days of the Blitz that wreaked such terrible devastation on this part of the capital.

I must admit I'd originally been surprised and disappointed when I first heard that Britain's end-of-the-war commemoration would take place in early July - a meaningless date of no chronological significance halfway between VE Day and VJ Day. Alas the atrocities of recent days have given this week's celebrations an extra resonance. No matter what the generation, it appears that there are some people to whom you can never say thank you often enough.

(Inspector Sands also visited)

WW2 museum links
• Imperial War Museum, the Holocaust Centre
• National Army Museum, Museum of Army Flying
• Royal Naval Museum, RN Submarines Museum
• RAF Museum, Fleet Air Arm Museum
• The Tank Museum, Royal Signals Museum
• Bletchley Park, Royal Marines Museum

 Saturday, July 09, 2005

Journey back to reality (ish)

After Thursday's golden dawn, Friday's grey skies echoed the previous day's bleaker sunset. As I headed down the Bow Road on my way to work it was clear that the streets were rather quieter than usual. Certainly far quieter than twelve hours previously when I'd been part of the steady trickle of displaced humanity walking in the opposite direction, making its weary exodus away from the paralysed capital. And unnervingly quieter than 24 hours earlier when a joyful London had still been basking in the heady afterglow of Olympic success.

The first bus to pass me yesterday morning was half empty. Normally there are passengers rammed into every doorway of every passing bendy bus, but suddenly taking a ride up west in a fragile metal box seemed far less alluring. Another East End bus was pictured, lost and empty, on the front of the newspaper I picked up outside the station. For the first time in four years the Muslim newsagent started up a lengthy conversation with me which stretched further than a cheery smile and a thankyou. He was concerned to hear how I'd managed to get home the previous evening and proceeded to relate how a member of his family had been unnervingly close to Aldgate when the first bomb exploded. Everyone, it seemed, had a story to tell.

Bow Road station was also much quieter than normal - no queues at the ticket office, no waiting at the barriers, no jostling down the stairs. Personally I was just glad that the station was still open, and still standing. A succession of regular recorded announcements advised us to keep hold of our luggage and to watch out for unattended packages - not that anybody really needed any prompting. While a handful of us waited, the tannoy recited a litany of suspended lines and closed stations. I think we were all impressed that the list wasn't longer. We stood around on the platform for five long minutes, after which gap the next train to arrive would normally be absolutely packed. But not on this particular morning. The doors opened and then, with an invisible one-fingered salute directed towards a gang of shadowy bloodied terrorists, we stepped on board and continued with our normal lives.

The Central line train I switched to at Mile End was even more unusual - there were several spare seats. Normally I get to stand squashed into my own tiny patch of space somewhere beside the far door, my newspaper clutched unopened beneath my arm, but yesterday for once I got the chance to sit down and open it. Reading about the tragic events across central London helped me to ignore the fact that I was doing precisely what so many of the slaughtered had been doing so innocently the day before. My fellow travellers (unusually for a Friday morning) were all wide awake and alert, surreptitiously scanning the floor of the half-empty carriage for suspect packages that obviously weren't there. There was absolutely no sign of alarm or panic, not even when we stopped briefly in a tunnel because of a security alert on the train behind us. Neither did we flinch at Liverpool Street where, 23 hours earlier, such tragic events had played out in the Circle line tunnel almost directly over our heads. Life continued.

I disembarked at a semi-deserted Holborn station. In the rush hour traffic above the surface central London appeared to be getting back to normal, but half a bus half a mile up the road told a different story. However bravely life goes on, however resilient the travelling public, a lot of patching up still has to happen before London feels wholly safe and safely whole. And there are some scars that will never heal.

 Friday, July 08, 2005

Repost: Tuesday 16th March 2004
London Prepared?

It was hard to be certain but I sensed that people were looking a little uneasy on the Underground yesterday. Maybe that was just their regular Monday morning back-to-work look but more likely it was something else, a subconscious response to events last week 800 miles away in Madrid. Not that most people enjoy rush hour tube travel at the best of times, packed head-to-armpit in overcrowded carriages, but somehow those carriages didn't seem quite so overcrowded yesterday either. Those of us wielding newspapers flashed bleak headlines across the carriage, while travellers with bags clutched them a little closer. It's as if Londoners are silently praying not to be 'there' when 'it' happens, not that anyone quite knows where 'there' is, what 'it' might be, or when 'it' might happen. Me, I prefer to continue to wonder if, not when.

Last week's terrorist atrocity in Spain reminded us all how fragile freedom is, how much we take it for granted and how easy it is to lose it in a flash. Anyone can board a train in Europe, travelling anywhere, carrying anything. It's not like boarding a plane where we expect to queue for hours in advance and to have all our darkest recesses searched lest we have even a nail file stashed away somewhere. Trains and stations remain very public spaces, very accessible but also very exposed. And long may that remain so. Should we ever end up flashing an ID card to pre-book a ticket to travel three stops down the Victoria Line then the terrorists would undoubtedly have won. And there would still be plenty of other targets elsewhere for them to hit anyway.

London can't afford police patrols in every Underground carriage, which is just as well because there are hundreds of carriages, most of them quite full enough already. The police are introducing plain-clothes patrols, or at least they've told us they are (it is by definition hard to be sure). They've also promised to increase 'stop and search' checks by uniformed officers, although the chance of any of them uncovering 'it' 'there' if 'it' happens must be absolutely tiny. No, our best chance lies with the latest campaign to ask the travelling public for increased vigilance. Our eyes can be everywhere. And better to bring the entire network to a halt for every unattended carrier bag than to miss one anonymous rucksack opportunely abandoned underfoot in the peak hour rush.

London's been here many times before, of course, and London's by no means unique. The IRA's bloody mainland bombing campaign kept Londoners alert thirty, twenty, even as recently as ten years ago, and you still can't find a litter bin on the Underground as a result. And sixty years ago we endured the Blitz - night after night of terrible bombing, and night after night of terrible casualties. 17 died in a direct hit on Marble Arch tube station, 68 at Balham, 56 at Bank, 173 at Bethnal Green... and even that was but a tiny fraction of the overall death toll. A very heavy price was paid but London continued, and so it will again. Even if 'it' happens which, please God, 'it' never does.
Which, alas, 'it' just did. Please God 'it' never happens again.

 Thursday, July 07, 2005

After the day when London's dreams came true came the day the city had so long dreaded. Millions of commuters travelled to work by bus and train as normal, unwitting participants in a lottery of death. At the end of the day us lucky winners merely had to walk all the way home - the unlucky ones will never make it home again. But London won't be defeated by such evil and cowardly acts - it never has been and it never will be. See you all on the tube again tomorrow?

The London Olympics: 2012

I must confess, I was expecting to be writing about Paris this morning. Hell, I even went to the effort of visiting the city three months ago to grab some tasty shots of the Stade de France. Seems I needn't have bothered. Fabulous, isn't it?

Olympic snapshots: Trafalgar Square
I didn't think Trafalgar Square would be very full yesterday. I was wrong - it was rammed. Thankfully I'd arrived early and was able to weave my way down through the crowd into the central space, just a few rows back from the main stage. The world's media were already in place on the raised piazza in front of the National Gallery, their cameras pointed out over the seething throng below. Most people present were resigned to this being the London bid's last hurrah, a final 'Thank you' celebration for us getting this far through the shortlisting process. It had been a plucky attempt by the British underdog, although surely doomed to ultimate failure. But there was still a real air of tension in the square, especially when it was announced that the final battle was to be fought between Paris and London. And where better for a good old Anglo-French showdown than at the foot of Nelson's Column? A pointless mimed performance by popstar Rachel Stevens dampened the atmosphere somewhat, but a pair of chirpy presenters from Capital Radio rescued the situation by wheeling on a series of top class Olympic athletes. And then the big screens either side of the stage flashed over, live, to the announcement of the result in Singapore.

I have never seen anyone take so long to open an envelope. IOC president Jacques Rogge stood there building up his part for ten of the longest seconds anyone in the crowd will ever remember. 200 miles apart, two capital cities stood in expectant silence. And then, as the wholly unexpected word 'London' dripped from his lips, the crowd around me erupted in jubilant celebration. People gasped, and cheered, and leapt, and hugged, and waved flags in the air... and they carried on doing so for some considerable time. The line of Olympic greats took a second to react, but it was a joy to be close up to Kelly Holmes as she pulled another of her legendary jaw-dropping expressions. Her euphoria was infectious. After a few minutes Heather Small bounded on stage to perform 'Proud' to a delighted audience, and it all felt so right. "I step out of the ordinary, I can feel my soul ascending, I am on my way, Can't stop me now." Somehow, against all the odds, Seb Coe had pulled off one last gold medal-winning performance and the 2012 Olympics were coming here, to our city. Who'd have thought? Alas the next act lined up on stage was a jumped-up rap wannabe with a freshly-signed record contract complete with the dreaded words "and this is my new single". It was a depressing reminder of how easily big business takes priority over sporting achievement, something I suspect we'll see rather more of as 2012 approaches.

A red, white and blue flypast from the Red Arrows restored national pride somewhat, at which point (regrettably) I had to leave the square. I had to be back in the East End within the hour to rendezvous with my landlord for the first time in four years. I wondered whether he might want to evict me from my flat in favour of a foreign camera crew, or at the very least treble my rent now that I live amongst some of the most desirable real estate on the planet. But I needn't have worried. For a start, London's 'obsolete' transport system whisked me back to the Olympic Zone with plenty of time to spare. And my flat inspection went swimmingly, thank you very much (my surfaces have never been so gleaming), with eviction never even on the menu. It seems I'm safe and secure in my stadium-side home for several years to come, so I have every expectation of remaining an Olympic resident until the five-ring circus arrives here in 2012. Bring it on!

Olympic snapshots:A requiem for Stratford Marsh
I read the following in the comments on Londonist yesterday and the words struck a chord, so I thought I'd take the liberty of reproducing them here.
"As a person who does a lot of photography in the area which will soon metamorphise into Olympic city, I have mixed emotions about this. I can already feel the buzz of achievement in the London air, a positive feeling not often felt these days of smug negativity. Certainly there are going to be massive advantages to the economy, London will get oodles of money for infrastructure improvement, etc. Those of us who have, will certainly have more as a result. The poor sods who live in the area aren't going to benefit, they'll just be shifted to the next marginal area.

May I suggest to you all some nice day this summer to go to the Stratford Marsh area and have a walk around. Take the DLR to Pudding Mill Lane. Don't wear your designer trainers from Selfridges and leave your iPod at home. Walk up the Pudding Mill Lane towards Carpenters Road and Hackney Wick, walk along the river Lea as it is now, walk the Greenway and look out over the city. This area of London is unique, slightly wild and overgrown, derelict and somewhat dangerous.

What I like about it is that in a world of identical All Bar One's on every street corner in London where danger lies in looking at someone crosseyed at pub closing time, the Stratford Marsh has a character which is real and genuinely its own. Enjoy the hand scrawled signs with misspelled words, the multilayered rubbish revealing what happens at the other end of our disposable consumer society. Walk along the Lea down to the Thames with its sometimes overgrown towpath and wildflowers, it's magical.

But soon the big London construction firms will be homogenising it, cutting away the wildness and taming it with 10 foot tall sticks of sapling trees, manicured grass laid down in uniform strips, and install miles of concrete for parking. If you want to know what its going to look like 3 months after the 2012 Olympics have come and gone, go and take a walk around the Millennium Dome. It is nice for Britain to have finally come out on top on something, and I like the positive buzz in the air. But I also have some sadness, because we're losing another little chunk of something unique." [Eric]

Those are two of my own photographs of doomed Stratford, but you can see Eric's rather more extensive portfolio here. They may take some time to load, and you may destroy his bandwidth in the process, but they're rather special and they give a true flavour of life in the soon-to-be erased Olympic zone.

 Wednesday, July 06, 2005

Trafalgar Square: 2578 days until the 2012 London Olympics



(live, via email) Oh. My. God. Down here in Trafalgar Square an ecstatic crowd is still cheering in elated disbelief. You might have seen me on the telly - I was the grinning geezer up the front beneath a sea of flags, balloons and waving hands. We still can't quite believe it, but London is both thrilled and stunned. Thank you IOC and thank you Seb. See you all down my manor in seven years time!

Singapore 2005: Election of the host city of the Games of the XXX Olympiad
"And the 2012 Olympics are awarded to..."

London

I live at the centre of the world. Who'd have guessed? It'll be seven years before the rest of the world arrives, and they're planning on staying for less than a month but, come 2012, a massive global spotlight will be shining on that big patch of wasteground at the bottom of my road. The Olympic bandwagon is coming to Bow and I for one am delighted. Against all the odds a committee of international sports gurus has given the go ahead for the greatest transformation in East London since the massive rebuilding of the area following the Blitz 60 years ago, and it starts today. How bloody exciting.

So, what to expect over the next seven years? Increased council tax bills for a start, and endless pessimistic articles in the Evening Standard detailing how the whole venture will undoubtedly be a complete disaster. Plus, for us East End residents, the opportunity to be locked out of 1500 acres of local wasteland for several years while some multinational construction company makes vast profits by turning all the grass there into concrete. But, come completion on Friday 27th July 2012, fireworks will light up the sky over the Lower Lea Valley to announce to the world that East London can put on an Olympic Games like no other. I just hope I'll still be living around here to see it.		Paris

I live in the arse-end of nowhere. No change there, then. The faceless bureaucrats of the IOC have spoken and the hopes of my local neighbourhood have been extinguished. There'll be no Olympic Stadium in Stratford, no world class athletic facilities in the Lower Lea Valley and no international marathon running past my front door. The kingfishers can carry on nesting down the Bow Back Rivers, factories down Marshgate Lane can continue to pump pollution into the East London sky, and the last few days on my blog can be filed away for future historians merely as an online archive of what might have been.

Admittedly the Government has still pledged cash for some urban renewal around here no matter what the result of the Olympic vote, but I suspect any future projects will be be minor, piecemeal and underfunded. And all this planned future redevelopment has one major downside. If London ever chooses to put forward another Olympic bid, say in 8 or 12 years time, there'll be insufficient brownfield land remaining in the Lower Lea Valley for the construction of an Olympic park. 2012 was a one-off chance for local international glory and we blew it. Still, it was a nice dream while it lasted. Any other godforsaken London borough fancy giving the Olympics a try in 2020?

Which city would you like to see win the 2012 Olympics?
(results of the diamond geezer vote)
City 
Votes
London 63%105
Madrid 5%8
Moscow 6%10
New York 3%5
Paris 23%39
167 votes total
Which just goes to show that the IOC might be better off sticking you lot in a committee room in Singapore instead of the gang of pensioners thay have voting there at the moment.

 Tuesday, July 05, 2005

The London Olympics? 2012

Olympic snapshots: Media Centre
I am, very nearly, an Olympic resident. A marathon runner could jog from my front door to the edge of the Olympic Zone in one minute flat (and, if all goes to plan come 2012, they'll be doing precisely that). The prospect of wholesale urban regeneration on my doorstep is therefore a very desirable thing, and would be even more desirable if I owned my flat rather than renting it. My corner of the Olympic Zone, between the Bow flyover and Pudding Mill Lane DLR station, has been designated as the Media Village and International Broadcast Centre. This means that we'll be descended upon by the global equivalents of Gary Lineker and Sue Barker, their task to link together the latest reports from the taekwondo, the weightlifting and the synchronised swimming. I look forward to sharing a bag of chips with everyone outside Mam's Fish Bar. Construction of the Media Village requires that a whole swathe of heavy industrial units are cleared away from the site first, although most of these appear to specialise in waste disposal so maybe they can dismantle themselves. I'd like in advance to thank you, the British taxpayer, for funding a project that my local councils could never ever afford by themselves. True community gold really could be unearthed at the end of this Olympic Zone rainbow. But I wonder how easy it would be to live with the biggest building site in the country at the bottom of my road for seven long years before any of the rewards can be felt.

Olympic snapshots: Back the Bid
Go back just a year and you'd have been hard-pushed to find many Londoners who supported the Olympic bid. It needed a massive (and carefully conceived) PR campaign to turn the population of this Candidate City in favour of the 2012 Olympics, and thankfully that's exactly what we've had. You can't fail to have noticed 'Back the Bid' flags hanging from London's lampposts, 'Back the Bid' banners draped across London's public buildings and 'Back the Bid' stickers plastered all over London's public transport. This photograph, taken at Bromley-by-Bow station, shows one of two tube trains that have been madeover in Olympic colours - even the seats have been covered by special yellow 'Back the Bid' upholstery. It's an awful lot of money to throw at a campaign for an event London probably won't win, and all this still only achieved a 68% satisfaction rate in the IOC's final survey of public opinion, but the expense might just be worth it when you consider the potential regenerative benefits to be had in London's poorest boroughs if the bid is successful. I just wonder how many months it will take to remove every last scrap of depressingly upbeat 2012 branding across the capital when Paris wins on Wednesday instead.

Olympic snapshots: 2012, no thanks
As you can see, not everybody wants the Olympics to come to London. You'd be hard pushed, for example, to persuade citizens of Shetland, Belfast and Birmingham that their hard-earned taxes should be spent laying asphalt and astroturf in my backyard. Many Londoners are equally strongly opposed to the huge debts they might end up paying off over the next seven years (and beyond). But the most vociferous protests have come from those living and working on the Olympic site itself, so it came as no surprise to stumble upon this delightful piece of graffiti sprayed on the underside of a litter-strewn bridge down Marshgate Lane. 308 local businesses would be forced to relocate within two years of a successful Olympic bid, and they're understandably aggrieved. Compensation has only been pledged based on existing land values, a token gesture insufficient to cover the cost of reconstruction on more expensive land elsewhere. A major legal challenge is threatened if London wins tomorrow. Most of the thousands of jobs which would be lost are in unglamorous but essential service industries such as waste disposal, recycling, demolition (and, erm, luxury salmon-smoking). Although several thousand new jobs would be created in construction, these wouldn't be especially appropriate jobs for ex fish filleters (neither would they continue beyond 2012 like the jobs to be found here today). At least a few local unskilled teenagers can look forward to employment selling programmes and flipping burgers for three weeks in the summer of 2012. Beyond the closing ceremony, however, who knows? Maybe some of the current skilled workforce would like to apply to become a parkkeeper or, rather more likely I fear, a security guard.

www.flickr.com
Take a stroll around the East London Olympic Zone.

 Monday, July 04, 2005

The London Olympics? 2012

Olympic snapshots: Aquatics Centre
These two ramshackle buildings are fairly typical of the industrial skeletons to be found scattered around London's Olympic development site. They were half derelict when I took this photograph 18 months ago, a crumbling example of what happens when an area is left quietly to fall apart, and have since been demolished. We're looking out across the Waterworks River on the eastern edge of the Olympic Zone, on the very spot where London's new Aquatics Centre is about to be constructed. The powers that be have promised to build two 50m swimming pools and a 25m diving pool here, whether we win the 2012 Games or not, which is the sort of government commitment this deprived area so desperately needs. The inhabitants of nearby Stratford wait expectantly to see whether this new water feature will be full of international champions breaking world records or just teenagers divebombing one another and urinating in the shallow end when they think nobody's looking.

Olympic snapshots: Olympic Park
Heaven knows why the IOC originally complained that the Olympic Zone area was inaccessible and underconnected because you can't move around here for train tracks. Branch lines, mainlines, light rail lines, tube lines, they're all here already. And sidings - acres and acres and acres of railway sidings. Some are already in the process of being transformed into Stratford International station, immediately to the east of the proposed stadium, and ever so convenient for (ahem) all those eager Parisian visitors to the 2012 Games. However, as you'll see from this photo, Thornton Fields sidings have yet to be transformed. They run off the mainline from Liverpool Street to Norwich, sandwiched on a long island site between two of the Bow Back Rivers. During the week inter-city trains are stockpiled here during that daytime lull between the morning and evening rush hours. But visit at the weekend, as I did, and the sidings are completely deserted. I'd been out taking a stroll down the Waterworks River, not another living soul in sight, when I noticed an unlocked iron gate beckoning invitingly from the towpath. There was no warning sign telling me to keep out so I wandered through into the empty sidings and stood all alone beside the vacant tracks and gantries. It was an eerie experience, and I had a gut feeling that this was somewhere I wasn't supposed to be. Come 2012 and these sidings will be wiped from the map to be replaced by a wide paved pedestrian walkway linking together the major sporting facilities up and down the two-mile-long Olympic site. I look forward to standing here again, still not a train in sight, but surrounded by hundreds of thousands of bustling spectators.

Olympic snapshots: the Olympic Village
A Velopark is planned for the very northern tip of the Olympic Park, tucked inbetween the A12 and New Spitalfields market. £22miliion will be spent constructing a velodrome and an outdoor BMX circuit where blokes in tight lycra can wear enjoy wearing streamlined pointy helmets in public. But there's already a major cycling facility just a few hundred yards to the south - the 53 acre Eastway cycle circuit. A mile-long tarmac track curves invitingly through hilly green heathland, with challenging off-road tracks scattered around inbetween. London cyclists love Eastway and, as a visiting pedestrian, I was quite taken by it too. Not that there was any evidence that this circuit is ever used by cyclists any more. The changing rooms were padlocked, the admission prices were years out of date and the only official presence as I wandered around the track was a security guard with a very large alsatian. If the IOC award the 2012 Games to London, the Eastway circuit will be eradicated so that the Olympic Village and other sporting facilities can be constructed on the site. The world's best athletes and Paralympians will live right here, for a fortnight each, on the very spot from which I took this photograph. The Olympic village will also consume some really (really) nasty student flats nextdoor at Clays Lane (yes, I know they all belong to a well-meaning co-operative, but you'd really only live here if you had no choice). Hopefully the social housing left behind by the Olympics will create a more worthwhile place for disadvantaged local Londoners to live.

Olympic snapshots: Hockey Stadium
Wander through to the southern edge of the Eastway cycle circuit and there, hidden down a well-hidden footpath, you may stumble upon the delights of the Bully Point Nature Reserve. I was charmed to discover this verdant mini-valley hidden away between some allotments and a giant building site, extremely close to the tunnel mouth into which Eurostar trains will plunge on their seven minute journey to St Pancras. Here the tiny Channelsea River flows, here trees and bushes explode each summer in a riot of green, and here butterflies silently flit between the fragrant flowers on the riverbank. Even kingfishers are regularly seen, here, bang in the middle of a godforsaken East London wasteland. To be honest it's only the urban location that makes this lowly spot feel so special. But a successful London Olympic bid would erase this natural beauty spot forever. The Channelsea river would be diverted and the allotments concreted over, while Bully Point would disappear forever beneath the pitch of a new Hockey Stadium. In fact the entire Olympic development zone would have to be fenced off for several years leading up to 2012, its green corridors made wholly inaccessible to us local residents while all evidence of reality was obliterated. Sure the new Olympic park would have trees and flowers and rivers but they'd all be fresh, sanitised and artificial. And somehow, I suspect, rather disappointing. Standing here in peaceful silence amongst the leaves and buzzing insects, I hoped for the first time that London's Olympic bid might fail so that the wildlife residents of Bully Point could survive into a more permanent future.

 Sunday, July 03, 2005

The London Olympics? 2012

The 2012 Olympics will probably be held in: Paris
But: there's still a chance it might be London
So: let me dream for the next 75 hours, won't you?

Olympic snapshots: the Olympic Zone
Now: This is Marshgate Lane, about half a mile west of Stratford and just up the road from my house. I guess a long time ago it was quiet a country lane snaking between the triple braids of the River Lea, surrounded by grass, farm animals and the odd passing bird. Not any more. Marshgate Lane now runs through some of the most dismal scenery East London has to offer. It's a drab polluted wasteland covered by warehouses, small factories and discarded junk. Pylons stalk the grey horizon. Lorries thunder down from the M11 delivering fats and waste cooking oil to tall belching incinerators. Workers in orange dungarees eat their sandwiches surrounded by a sea of litter. A long queue of rusting cars lie trashed along the roadside waiting their turn to be cannibalised for spare parts. And, just to give you a true sense of the place, I took this photograph while standing on top of a giant sewerpipe. Marshgate Lane is a place you'd hate to work, not a place you'd like to live, and it could be so so much better.
2012: If London is awarded the 2012 Olympics, this part of London will be transformed. And about time too. Look down from the sewer pipe in seven years time and you'll see a striking Olympic Stadium rising anew in the centre of the photograph. It takes quite a leap of imagination to picture anything quite so enormous and important here today, but maybe a leap of imagination is exactly what's required around here.

Olympic snapshots: the Olympic Stadium
Here's a view from the opposite angle, looking south towards the intended site of London's 2012 Olympic stadium. As you can see there's a lot of water round here. The River Lea passes along the western perimeter of the site, and we're only a stone's throw from the lockkeeper's cottages from which the Big Breakfast used to be broadcast. But there are several other rivers threading through the site, all part of the Bow Back Rivers, each with their own wildlife and ecosystem. Here at Carpenter's Lock two of those braids join, leaving a scrap of land inbetween that's just big enough to hold an Olympic stadium. The water also provides a useful natural barrier that would act as a security cordon around the future arena, should it ever be built. Today you can still walk freely following a series of overgrown footpaths along the riverbanks, taking in the greenery, the desolation and the silence. Very few local people appear to bother to tread these paths, far from the madding crowds, but those of us who frequent the remoter stretches of the Bow Back Rivers prefer it that way.

Olympic snapshots: the Stadium (interior)
If you try standing here in seven years time you'll probably be arrested, because this is the very centre of the proposed Olympic stadium. Stand on this spot on the evening of Friday 27th July 2012 and you'll be whisked away in a heaving sea of choreographed flag-waving schoolchildren, all taking part in the extravagant made-for-TV spectacle of the opening ceremony of the XXXth Olympiad. And over the following fortnight the world's best athletes (and the world's most convincing steroid-takers) will stand here on the winners rostrum to receive their Olympic medals. Hence I was very disturbed to discover that there are already three flags fluttering over this very spot, and that they're all German. That's because there's a Mercedes after-sales centre on the site today, the sort of grey shed you bring your car back to when it stops working - I guess it beats turning up early and staking your claim with a beach towel. But a single cross of St George still flutters proudly in the forecourt of Bywaters skip hire service nextdoor, so maybe there's still hope.

Olympic snapshots: the Stadium (interior)
I guess few snapshots sum up the huge amount of redevelopment needing to be carried out if London wins the 2012 Olympics better than this picture. Across the road from the Mercedes garage, still well inside the 400m running track, I found a cheap karaoke machine and four smashed fridge-freezers, all lined up side by side on the pavement. They've got to go. In just seven years flat Marshgate Lane needs to be transformed from an industrial dumping ground littered by abandoned white goods into a state-of-the-art arena for world class sport. There are warehouses to dismantle, there are pylons to bring down, there are contours to level and there are polluted bushes to clear away. Admittedly many of the businesses that will be eradicated really don't want to go, but their removal will bring about the 'legacy' redevelopment that remains London's trump card over the Paris bid. Vote to bring the Olympics here and there'll be no more fridge freezers, no more karaoke machines and no more waste. Maybe, just maybe, this place has a bright future.

• London's 2012 Olympic bid
• Images of the proposed Olympic venues
• Plans for the redevelopment of the Lower Lea Valley
• Map of the Bow Back Rivers and Marshgate Lane
• 2½ years of my Olympic reports on one page

 Saturday, July 02, 2005

The London Olympics: 1948

The 1944 Olympics should have been held in: London
But: there was a big World War on at the time
So: London was awarded the 1948 Games instead.

Olympic snapshots: Wembley Stadium
Then: A lot of mopping up and rebuilding needed to be carried out after the Second World War. Nevertheless London willingly took on the responsibility of hosting the 1948 Olympics, the first to be held following a twelve year wartime hiatus, and they did so on a shoestring budget. The Games cost just £¾ million to stage, with existing facilities being used wherever possible and athletes housed not in some expensive new village but in schools, homes and even military barracks. And for its Olympic arena London turned to Wembley, the national stadium built two decades previously for the opening of the British Empire Exhibition in 1924. The Wembley Olympics ran successfully and smoothly, remembered best perhaps for a dashing Dutch housewife and not for Great Britain's lowly 12th place in the medal table. My history of Wembley Stadium is here, and there's more about events at the 1948 Olympics here.
Now: After years of vacillation and political wrangling, the famous twin towers have fallen. In their place, ever so slowly and worryingly behind schedule, a new 21st century Wembley Stadium is rising into the Brent sky. You can see the white Wembley Arch [stats: weight 1750 tonnes, length 315m, height 133m] across half of London, but I chose to take a look from close up. This photo is taken from the perfect viewpoint of Sherrins Farm Open Space, a grassy kickabout zone hidden away on the opposite side of the Chiltern railway line. The changing facilities are non-existent, the pitch slopes downhill and any goalposts are almost certainly knitted, but it's currently the only place round here where budding Beckhams can still play ball.

Olympic snapshots: Olympic Way
Then: Olympic Way, a long (and very wide) pedestrian thoroughfare, was built for the 1948 Games as a crowd control measure to link the stadium to the nearby tube station. This brutal minimalist walkway carved through what had once been gardens and across the site of an ornamental lake, more's the pity. But look behind the modern hotdog stall and you can still see the remains of one of the glories of the 1924 British Empire Exhibition - the Palace of Industry. In its heyday this vast 13 acre hall contained dazzling examples of British invention, including a coal mine and real pit ponies, and was constructed as one of a pair with the neighbouring Palace of Industry. Elsewhere on site were built opulent pavilions relative in size to the perceived importance of various Commonwealth countries, so Australia, Canada and India were afforded rather more space than Nigeria, Burmah and Ceylon.
Now: With the exception of several thousand Indian families, the nations of the new Commonwealth have long abandoned Wembley. Only a very few buildings from the Empire Exhibition remain, and those that still stand have been subsumed into a rundown retail park of furniture shops and carpet warehouses. The Palace of Industry has become a shabby shadow of its former self with jaundiced paint peeling from the pioneering concrete walls. The interior of this former exhibition space has been brutally subdivided and now houses, amongst other light industrial delights, a fleet of White Arrow delivery vans. Meanwhile Currys and JD Sports nextdoor stockpile white goods and sweatshop trainers mass-produced in the rising economies of the Far East. The glory days of Empire lie unnoticed and forgotten.

Olympic snapshots: Live Aid
Then: On Saturday 13th July 1985 the world returned to Wembley, either on foot or via satellite, for the Live Aid concert. I was a student at the time and three of my flatmates were lucky enough (and solvent enough) to get tickets. While they stood on the hallowed turf of Wembley Stadium in the presence of greatness (and Nik Kershaw), I sat at home watching the entire event on my portable black and white television. From Status Quo to Paul McCartney the top pop acts of the eighties (and a few dodgy hangers-on) kickstarted their failing careers with a few unforgettable performances. Those who'd never heard of U2 suddenly had, and those who'd heard of Duran Duran suddenly wished they hadn't. But, more importantly, the world's conscience was pricked as the plight of poverty-stricken Africans was given the prominence it so desperately deserved.
Now: And so it is again today, with the Live 8 concert in Hyde Park. Say what you like about Bob Geldof (and the words 'gobby', 'opinionated' and 'stubborn' spring to mind) but his persistence has certainly helped to launch the issue of world poverty much higher up the global agenda. Hurrah. Only the silent cheers of 20 years ago will echo round Wembley Stadium today, but at least the original event is commemorated in this tiled mosaic on the approach to Wembley Park station. Look, it's that Dire Straits bloke with the annoying bandana, that Tina diva with the frizzy perm, showman Freddie in his finest hour, and some anonymous drummer who has too much hair to be Phil Collins. Today the torch finally passes to the new generation of (supposed) international musical megastars, but I bet nobody erects a mural in Hyde Park to commemorate the event.

www.flickr.com
My gallery of London Olympics past.

 Friday, July 01, 2005

The London Olympics: 1908

The 1908 Olympics should have been held in: Rome
But: Mount Vesuvius erupted in 1906, so the Italians didn't have enough cash to build a stadium and rebuild Naples
So: the 1908 Games came to London instead.

Olympic snapshots: White City Stadium
Then: When London got the call to host the 1908 Olympics there was one big problem - there was nowhere to hold the Games. Thankfully the city was constructing a huge Franco-British exhibition in White City at the time, so they tacked on an Olympic-sized stadium in the northwest corner of the site and built it in ten months flat. The giant stadium held 93000 spectators and a running track one third of a mile long, and by April all was ready for the opening parade of the 22 participating nations.
Now: You're right, that building in the photograph doesn't look much like an Olympic stadium. Some athletics may have continued at White City until 1970, but for most of the 20th century the former grand arena was nothing but a glorified greyhound track. The stadium was eventually demolished in 1985 and, with BBC Television Centre located just down the road along Wood Lane, a new BBC office block was built on the site. At least silver looks less showy than gold or bronze.

Olympic snapshots: The finishing line
Then: See that line of white lettering across the front of this photograph? It reads "This is the site of the finishing line of White City Stadium which hosted the 1908 Olympics". And it was right here that one of the most famous marathon races in Olympic history was played out. The marathon had started back at Windsor Castle, with the race specially lengthened so that it could begin right in front of the royal box - a distance of 26 miles 385 yards that remains the marathon standard to this day. By the time the race reached the stadium Dorando Pietri of Italy was in the lead. Unfortunately he then collapsed with exhaustion, five times in total, only to be helped to his feet by some over-zealous British officials and carried over the finishing line. This enraged second-placed John Hayes of the United States, and an American protest (eventually) led to the Italian being stripped of his gold medal. As a result of this farce (and other dodgy decisions during the Games), all Olympic events since 1908 have been adjudicated by a pool of international judges and not a rabble of biased amateurs from the home country.
Now: The finishing line now stands in the courtyard of the BBC's new Media Village, opened just last year beside the existing White City building. Off the left hand edge of the photo there's a row of the type of shops that modern planners think office workers want (great if you want a latté, a muffin or a panini). The whole area looked very dead when I visited on a rain-soaked Saturday morning, but I'm delighted that to see that this historic finishing line is still semi-accessible to the public.

Olympic snapshots: The medal table
Then: The British found one particularly cunning way to use their home advantage in the 1908 Olympics to good effect. The games opened on 27 April but, rather than the compact fortnight we know today, they continued for a full six months until 31 October. For local athletes this wasn't a problem but, in the days before commercial air travel, global competitors were at a distinct disadvantage. Of the 2000 competing athletes there were proportionally more UK competitors than perhaps there ought to have been, and look what happened as a result.
Great Britain: 56 gold, 51 silver, 38 bronze
USA: 23 gold, 12 silver, 12 bronze
Sweden: 8 gold, 6 silver, 11 bronze
France: 5 gold, 5 silver, 9 bronze
Germany: 3 gold, 5 silver, 6 bronze
For the first (and only) time in the history of the Olympic Games, Great Britain topped the medal table. Look, we got a mammoth haul of gold medals, more than all the other nations of the world put together. I know that, once upon a time, this blessed country of ours used to be a great world power but surely this was one self-deluded step too far. Nevertheless the 1908 Games were still a considerable success, impeccably organised with Empire efficiency, and laid the foundations for the founding of the International Amateur Athletic Federation four years later.
Now: On the wall of the Broadcast Centre in the BBC Media Village, just beyond the Olympic finishing line, stands a tall plaque commemorating the 1908 Games. Olympic chief Jacques Rogge unveiled it five weeks ago in the presence of Director General Mark Thompson, and a small crowd of BBC staff. Look, Martin was there and got photos. I'm sure there are some other bloggers working nearby who could tell us more.

Olympic snapshots: White City reborn
Then: The original White City exhibition consisted of 20 huge palaces and 120 exhibition buildings spread across a sprawling 140-acre site. The exhibition showcased the industrial and cultural achievements of England and France (like that would ever happen today, eh?) and drew more than eight million visitors. Whitewash was used to cover the multiplicity of steel and concrete buildings on site - hence the name 'White City'. Wood Lane station (on the Central line) was built to serve the exhibition, and underground anoraks may be interested by the following websites which chronicle the unusual track layout at the now-demolished station.
Now: Much of the White City area has recently been razed to the ground ready for major redevelopment. Tall cranes stand guard over an enormous building site north of Shepherd's Bush Green, complete with its own office for the signing on of casual labour. There'll be some affordable housing in one corner, of course, but most of the site is earmarked for the largest shopping centre in London. Great, just what we need. And it's all due to open in 2008, exactly a century after there really was something here worth celebrating.

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