Christmas Alphabet word search: This word search contains 25 festive words, each starting with a different letter of the alphabet. Can you identify the whole alphabetical list from A to Y? (Sorry, I gave up on Z) (Answers in the comments box)
Y S A M X H P E S O J W
L A H R E E D N I E R R
L N R G L E G N A V T E
O T R U D L E O N I Y A
H A Y U N W R A P R E T
B O M L A E G T A G K H
E R X R C I V R K I N G
L E I E F Q U E E N O I
L F Y T N E S E R P D L
X-6
Christmastime in E3
• Flashing Santas shining down from tower block balconies
• A few strands of tinsel draped behind the bar of a pub
• Well-dressed couples turning up to a festive dinner party
• Stressed-out drivers endlessly honking one another
• A pensioner walking back to her lonely basement flat
• Wide-eyed children looking forward to the big day
• A wreath on the door of a Victorian terraced villa
• Cheap lager being lugged home in a Morrisons carrier bag
• A mob of feral children hurling an egg at a passing bus
• Crowds of beaming worshippers exiting a carol service
• Queueing for stamps in the run-down Post Office
• Strings of red and white lights illuminating Roman Road
• A small fir tree sat on a pile of tyres in a dingy garage
Bow Road update: You can't use Bow Road tube station today. You couldn't use it last weekend either, or the weekend before that. In fact, what with the Christmas weekend coming up, you won't be able to use the station on any weekend in December. Then there's three more weekend closures in January and another at the end of February, all of which makes for a prolonged period of travel misery for us Bow residents on top of all the late evening closedowns we've been suffering since March. And all because renovation work at Bow Road station is going on months longer than expected, and because it seems the only way to finally bring the whole overblown project to an end is to force passengers to find alternative travel arrangements at weekends while workmen try desperately to catch up. OK, so it's only a 7 minute walk from here down the road to Mile End, but it's the principle of the thing that matters. The chairman of Metronet admits that there have been problems...
Which appears to confirm my suspicions that my local station was shut after 10pm every night from March until September while virtually nothing was going on inside. Thank you Metronet. At least since October things really have started to happen. No really. Now there are black cables, and cameras, and white cables, and paint, and purple cables, and even the odd workman walking around trying to look busy during those increasingly rare hours while the station is actually open. I've still not seen one new development that improves my journey to work, though, not one. Check the comments box for further details (or go read my new 'Bow Road page' which, like the station, is still under construction).
If you've just arrived from Metafilter (ooh, Metafilter), then let me assure you that...
a) No, I have never blogged about the curious retro-style tube adverts for London's Metropolitan Tabernacle. Blimey, aren't they dated?
b) The Metropolitan Tabernacle isn't quite a 'historic London landmark', but it is a very prominent building at the Elephant & Castle.
c) My photo of the pink elephant and castle at Elephant and Castle (8 days down the page) was taken on the opposite side of the road from the Metropolitan Tabernacle, so I have sort of been there.
Happy Christmas. You'll be glad to hear that my Christmas cacti are now dripping with pink buds and the geraniums on my frost-free balcony continue to bloom spectacularly. I've decorated my flat by draping the usual fairy lights down the hallway, and your fibre optic Christmas tree is busy changing colour on the dining table. I've now received 16 Christmas cards, which isn't a very impressive total given that I'm planning on sending out about 70, and it's probably at least a hundred less than you've got by now. Thanks for your homemade Christmas card which is now sitting in pride of place on the TV. You'll be pleased to know that my homemade Christmas card to you is already in the post, although it was particularly naughty of David Blunkett to resign while my card was at the printers.
Life at work continues to be manic. The low point was two weeks ago when I missed the company's Christmas party (free bar, sit-down meal and a tentful of entertainment) because I was too busy working for the company. Thankfully I've not had to work as late as half past nine again, but I'm still the mug who's sat in work at 8am and 8pm while everyone else swans off at what used to be my normal leaving time and manages to have a life. At least I'm finally due more than a fortnight off work after I crawl home tonight, which'll give me a chance to drink normal tea again during daylight hours if nothing else.
My new passport arrived in the mail yesterday. They sent the old one in a separate envelope, and my local postman somehow managed not to steal either of them. I reckon the new photo almost looks like me, certainly more than the last one from ten years ago, but you'd probably prefer the set of photos I couldn't use because there was too much white background and not quite enough of my face. It felt odd seeing an expiry date of 'Feb 15' at the back of the passport and realising that they meant 2015, not the day after Valentine's Day. At least this means I'm not due to be getting an ID-chipped biometric replacement until I'm 50.
I hope you're both well. Sorry that you couldn't both make it down to London for the 'annual' day of Christmas shopping this year. To be honest, Mum, I'm dead impressed that you can make it as far as the village shop after your hip operation last month. I'll pencil in a quality festive shopping day sometime next year instead. And I'll see you both next week.
geezers.co.uk - a new haircare range for men who want the 3 "F"s - fun - fashion - and the other.
A range of 12 "men only" haircare products that will ensure that you look the "dogs b******s" on every social occasion.
Geezers hair care products are specially designed for the latest generation of men. Whether you are going for the sleek, shagadellic look or irresistibly firm hold styles that are rough, rigid and randy Geezers® has the product for you. Our superb range of shampoos, conditioners, and styliing products are prefect for the guys who has a hard night out on the town followed by a hard game of footy the next morning.
You can buy any of the Geezers products from a good professional hair salon and be the Geezer of your choice:
- be a smooth geezer
- be a spikey geezer
- be a randy geezer
- be a hard geezer
- be a party geezer
Products:
• Geezers Friday Night Smoothing Gel is formulated to give hair that sleek, shagadellic look for that special night on the town.
• Geezers Sorted Anti Dandruff Shampoo is formulated to effectively eliminate the dreaded white stuff.
• Geezers Wicked Glue is the definitive texturising product for devilishly strong hold.
• Geezers On The Pull Shaper gives irresistibly firm hold for styles that are rough, rigid and randy.
• Geezers Stay Stiff Gel Spray is formulated to give all hair styles a hard as nails finish.
• Geezers Hairy Monster Thickening Shampoo is ideal for the geezers that nature intended to be follicley challenged.
• Geezers Knackered Hair Repair is ideal for hair that has been neglected, abused, damaged - in fact, thoroughly balls’d up.
• Geezers Party Hard Putty is the ideal medium-hold texturising product for the social animal.
• Geezers Gunk Removing Shampoo is guaranteed to remove all the crap resulting from frequently styled hair.
• Geezers Hungover Shampoo is an invigorating cleanser formulated to blast away the effects of the night before.
Geezers hair care products are now available at: William Lothian Hair (Glasgow), Jason Shankey Male Grooming (Belfast), Scissor-Hands (Sheringham), Shortcuts Barber Shop (Nuneaton), Turning Heads (Leicester), Mojo (Rugby), Tangles (Bradford), Root 107 (Swansea), Geezer's Barbers (Sheffield), Finnegan's Gentlemans Hairdressers (Liverpool), Perfect Endings (Inverness), Manic Barbers (Ystrad Mynach), Bladerunner (Glasgow), Kuttin Kru (Rotherham), Cut n Colours (North Berwick), Barry's Barbers (Dublin), Hair by Andrew (Windsor), The Curl Company (Blackpool), Mirror Image (Wellingborough), Mr Stopps The Barbers (Birmingham), Crown Cuts Hair Salon (Maidstone), Taffy's Barbers (Swansea), Hair Indoors (Blackburn), Throckley Hairport (Newcastle) and 106 other salons nationwide.
Tube strike quiz: Only two of the following excuses given for strike action on the London Underground are true. I wonder if you can tell which two they might be? (n.b. 'true' is not necessarily the same as 'justified')
• Drivers on the Northern line are to strike because a 35 hour working week is far too strenous.
• Drivers on the Metropolitan line are to strike because 52 days annual holiday just isn't enough, poor lambs.
• Drivers on the Victoria line are to strike because they were all replaced by computers ten years ago.
• Drivers on the Waterloo & City line are to strike because driving backwards and forwards between the same two stations all day is so incredibly boring.
• Drivers on the Piccadilly line are to strike in a row over the demotion of a driver for passing red signal lights.
• Drivers on the Jubilee line are to strike in protest at having one of their trains repainted to support London's Olympic bid.
• Drivers on the Hammersmith & City line are to strike to demand that their line be reassigned any colour other than pink.
• Drivers on the East London line are to strike because they fancy a day off to go to the January sales.
• Drivers on the District line are to strike in protest at appalling facilities at Earl's Court station.
• Drivers on the Circle line are to strike because all that going round and round makes them giddy.
• Drivers on the Central line are to strike because Bob Crow fancies some publicity.
• Drivers on the Bakerloo line are to strike because being a tube driver means either clocking on before 5am or clocking off after 1am, spending your shift stuck inside in a cramped cab, coping with stroppy passengers who insist on holding the doors open, working weekends, risking dodgy track maintenance, coping when people throw themselves off the platform in front of your train... and because quite frankly you wouldn't put up with it either.
Manchesterford's finest soap opera is coming to the London stage. Victoria Wood has written a musical version of the legendary cardboard drama, and the show is due to open at the Theatre Royal Haymarket on 9th February next year for a limited 16-week season. The cast includes all your favourite Acorn Antiques stars, including Julie Walters, Celia Imrie and Duncan Preston, as well as top support from Josie Lawrence, Neil Morrissey and Sally Ann Triplett. And, sssh, but I have a copy of the script! And it's very good.
BABS: It certainly sounds like a genuine Picasso, Martin, but I'd have to see it to be sure.
The first act comes live from the rehearsal rooms at the Enoch Powell Arts Complex, Sutton Coldfield, where the producer is struggling to explain his modern plot revamp to a stupefied cast. There are a lot of jokes about haemorrhoids (and several references in homage of Crossroads), and the whole act is a fine sideswipe at the onward march of the politically correct. I will admit that, after a first skim read, I was a little concerned that the Acorn Antiques sparkle had been lost. But I needn't have worried because the fine detail is hilarious and sets the scene perfectly for what follows.
BERTA: Where's Mrs O? It's only the thought of her macaroons that's kept me going!
Act two opens on 'traditional' Manchesterford High Street, complete with wool shop, drapery, ironmongers, red pillar box and, of course, your favourite antique dealership. Mrs Overall (who'll be played on stage by both Wood and Walters) is at the very heart of the business, but even her teatray and fresh-baked parkin can't stop the onward march of progress. A series of Wood-esque musical numbers (nobody else could get away with rhyming sandalled with man-handled, or erogenous with old-codgerness) interweave with a moral tale about multinational retail franchises. And there are some unlikely romances, some long lost relatives and an awful lot of tweed into the bargain. I loved it.
BABS: What was that terrible noise? It sounded like a tray of coffee being dropped on someone who's just been electrocuted.
Devotees will be pleased to hear that the number of mentions of 'macaroons' is in double figures, including a song of their own and a starring role in the dénouement. I'd love to tell you more, but that would be desperately unprofessional. There are a multitude of exquisite lines in the playscript (like the one about Clarice Cliff, the one about fair-trade coffee and the one about wartime rubber shortages) but I've been well-behaved here and have only used quotes from the original TV series instead. But, on the basis of what I've read, I shall definitely be buying (bloody expensive) tickets for the play's West End run. It looks like a classic to me, Miss Berta, and no mistake.
MRS O: Why don't we all have a mug of my delicious home-made sherry and a couple of sausage dumplings?
Have you noticed how easy it is to write a book these days? Bookshops this Christmas are piled high with short novelty volumes knocked off by their authors in a couple of hours flat. These books usually feature one short phrase or home truth written in large font across the middle of every page, each surrounded by acres of empty space. And people actually buy these lightweight publications, presumably to give to people they don't care for very much.
So I thought today we'd have a go at writing our own book. In less than 24 hours. I can't guarantee it'll be on the shelves in time for this Christmas, but it might be worth us trying to get it published next year. I've decided that the title of our moneyspinning text will be The Little Book Of Four Letter Words and it'll feature just one four letter word in very big type on each page. All you lot need to do is to come up with your favourite 4 four letter words and stick them in the comments box. I've started things off. Let's see just how easy this authoring lark really is...
The following books were all websites this time last year. And now they're in print. And I've bought threeofthem. Great innit? I wonder who'll be on this list next Christmas? It could be you...
• A Nice Cup Of Tea And A Sit Down - website - book (£9.99, Amazon sales rank: 34)
• Change the World for a Fiver: We Are What We Do - website - book (£5, Amazon sales rank: 76)
• Law of the Playground: A Puerile and Disturbing Dictionary of Playground Insults and Games - website - book (£6.99, Amazon sales rank: 146)
• Modern Toss (featuring Mr Tourette) - website - book (£9.99, Amazon sales rank: 249)
• Minipops - website - book (£7.99, Amazon sales rank: 519)
• One Stop Short Of Barking: Uncovering the London Underground - website - book (£7.99, Amazon sales rank: 1477)
• Vitamin Q: a temple of trivia lists and curious words - website - book (£9.99, Amazon sales rank: 2306)
I'd carefuly avoided watching The XFactor, this Autumn's Pop Idol rip off, until last night. Last night I made the mistake of tuning in (well, there was nothingelse on). And, erm, popular music really is dead and buried, isn't it?
After thousands of auditions and eight weeks of on-screen balladry, the British public in their infinite wisdom finally narrowed down the contestants to one pub singer with a 70s soul fixation and one quartet of clean cut accountants attempting to be the new Flying Pickets. Which of the two won is irrelevant - the fact that seven million people voted is not. Every ounce of drama was squeezed out of the three hour broadcast, which was quite an achievement given that music had formed no more than half an hour of the so-called entertainment. The eventual winner will go on to clog up the Christmas singles chart with yet another unnecessary cover version (oh God, it's Phil Collins), while the runners up should be packing out end-of-the-pier shows for years to come.
I forgot to switch off the TV after the X Factor's choking finale and so my senses were assaulted by 'ChristmasMania', the latest in a long line of ITV lowest common denominator music shows. Donny Osmond (no, really) dripped platitudes to link together a conveyor belt of festive songs sung by Radio-2-friendly artists with albums to plug. Imagine the brain-sapping nightmare of non-stop Ronan Keating, Katie Melua, Jamie Cullum, Il Divo and Westlife. I know this sort of thing appeals to a mainstream audience, but I found it musically bland and unchallenging. The whole experience was offensively inoffensive - mechanically brilliant but creatively dead.
At which point I realised why I've fallen out of love with popular music. I'm a sucker for an original tune, not an original voice. I don't have a favourite singer, I just have favourite songs. I don't care how technically competent a singer is, I want them to be a great composer too. I get no thrills from a beautifully delivered classic, I want to be moved by something fresh and innovative.
Sure the music industry has always had its fair share of insipid mass market cover versions, but for every Robson & Jerome nightmare there always used to be a cross-generational smash. Just look back at the Top 5 I listed yesterday for the evidence. No more. And sure there's still plenty of creativity left in today's music, but it just isn't mainstream any more. No, I have seen the future, and it is primetime national karaoke. Popular music is indeed dead and buried. And I bet they play 'Angels' at the funeral.
1) (new entry) Band Aid - Do They Know It's Christmas: Straight into the top of the charts on this very day 20 years ago came the original version of the most important charity single ever. It sold over a million copies in its first week, and Dido wasn't singing on it which is why it was tons better than this year's AOR update. If you don't know the story of Band Aid by now then where have you been, but Chighas the details anyway. More here, here, here, here, here and here.
"It's a world of dread and fear where the only water flowing is the bitter sting of tears."
2) (new entry) Wham! - Last Christmas / Everything She Wants: This perennial festive favourite is the best selling single ever never to have reached number 1. Not that George minded at the time because he featured on the Band Aid record too. Last Christmas should have beeen a cheesy schmaltzfest nightmare of a record, but it still works perfectly as a bittersweet Yuletide anthem. I reckon, anyway.
"Last Christmas I gave you my heart, but the very next day you gave it away."
3) (↓ 2) Frankie Goes To Hollywood - The Power Of Love: Forget Jennifer Rush and Huey Lewis, let's hear it for the scallies. This ultimate power ballad had just given Frankie their third number one single with only their third release, following up in-your-face sex and controversial politics with a sideswipe at religion. Simple it may have been, but simply brilliant.
"I'll protect you from the hooded claw, keep the vampires from your door."
4) (↑ 5) Paul McCartney and the Frog Chorus - We All Stand Together: You may have loathed it, or you may secretly have loved it, but this amphibian classic is undoubtedly lodged deep inside the child-centred part of your subconscious. The song was written by Mr McCartney for a Rupert movie that never quite materialised, but the magical video justly won the Bafta award for Best Animated Short Film in 1985. Altogether now - bom bom bom.
"Win or lose, sink or swim, one thing is certain we'll never give in."
5) (↑ 3) Madonna - Like A Virgin: Who was she kidding? This irresistable classic propelled Ms Ciccone to a national audience and kickstarted an astounding run of 35 consecutive top ten UK singles. She's still going strong 20 years later - as is Paul McCartney, as is George Michael, as are Band Aid (and even Frankie reformed last month). I bet this week's Top 5 artists don't have the staying power of these 1984 giants.
"You made me feel shiny and new, like a virgin touched for the very first time."
Square Routes: Day 10 x 10
Bus 100: Shadwell - Elephant & Castle Location: London east, inner Length of journey: 6 miles, 40 minutes
And finally, route 100 - possibly the bendiest bus route in London. I don't think I've ever been driven around quite so many corners as I was on this particular bus journey. Our little single decker snaked through Shadwell, wriggled through Wapping, curled through the City and finally wound up at the Elephant. And it all began down one of the most infamous streets in East London.
The 'Battle of Cable Street' was a pre-war watershed in the British fight against facsism. Back in October 1936 Sir Oswald Mosley aimed to stir up racial tension by rallying his loyal Blackshirts for a march through the Jewish East End of London. But he had reckoned without the strength of feeling of ordinary Londoners who were determined that the march should not pass. They set up barricade after barricade down Cable Street using bricks, barrels, corrugated iron, paving stones, timber planks and a builder's lorry. A pitched battle was fought, not against the fascists but against the police who had come to bring order to the streets. Stones were thrown, batons were raised and several participants were either injured or arrested. The protest had the desired outcome, however, and Mosley's march was re-routed west into the City where it soon dispersed. Sir Oswald would no doubt be appalled by modern Shadwell and its integrated multi-ethnic mix. The Itthadi Supermarket now stands side by side with Peter's Pie and Mash, and a giantmural on the side of the Old Town Hall commemorates the day the flames of intolerance were snuffed out.
We headed south into Wapping past the monolithic headquarters of News International and the failed retail centre at Tobacco Dock. Where Shadwell had been poor, Wapping was bubbling over with unexpected affluence. The bus squeezed down narrow cobbled streets, the old dockland wharves to either side now converted en masse into elegant yuppie housing. Pirates used to be executed round here, now estate agents sell off studio flats for criminal amounts. Remind me to come back and blog about Wapping properly sometime, it's a fascinating and historic place.
The City of London may only cover one square mile, but our journey aboard the 100 appeared to thread around most of it. To our right the Royal Mint, to our left the Tower of London, to our left the Gherkin, to our right the Barbican, to our left the Museum of London, to our right St Paul's Cathedral, and to our left an enormous crane blocking the road while topping out yet another enormous new office block. The direct route from Commercial Road to Blackfriars Bridge would have been far quicker, but not half as interesting.
We then began our final descent into South London, speeding past Southwark station, rounding St George's Circus and lurching towards our destination at Elephant and Castle. Words cannot describe the awfulness of the shopping centre here (except for words such as 'hideous', 'over-pink' and 'poverty-stricken'). The market clinging to the pavement outside the main entrance was wretched enough but the bleak selection of shops inside was even worse, reminiscent of some struggling postwar Eastern European state. The quicker they knock this place down the better, although I believe 2010 is the earliest likely date. I had to leave - my tenth and final Square Route had finally driven me round the bend.
100 links
• Route 100: journey time and connections
• Route 100: timetable
Square Routes: Day 9 x 9
Bus 81: Hounslow - Slough Location: London west, outer Length of journey: 12 miles, 55 minutes
The 81 heads west out of west London and keeps going, and keeps going, right off the edge of the map. I think (and Matt will undoubtedly tell me if I'm wrong) that the 81 is the London bus route that terminates the furthest away from the centre of the capital. About 25 miles away, in this case. And, as for that final distant destination, I had hoped I'd seen the last of this particular town earlier this year when my bosses sanely decided not to relocate my workplace in this far-flung hellhole. But no, here I was destined to return. Bloody square numbers.
Hounslow felt far west enough, but this was merely where my journey on the 81 began. The bus station here has seen better days, just eight featureless bus bays beneath an ancient roof, and thankfully due to be rebuilt before the end of the decade. I could have bought a halal burger for just £1.50 nextdoor in the Hounslow Snack Bar but I chose not to. The town centre was thronging with red and white buses, while jet planes droned overhead on their final approach into Heathrow. I didn't think the shopping centre was too bad actually, but then I'm used to East London and almost anywhere else's shops are better than that.
In the High Street our bus was boarded by a teenage single mother in a bright pink coat with white fur trim. At first glance her hair appeared blond, but closer inspection showed that her roots were as black as her eyeliner. She carefully manoeuvred a giant pink three-wheeler pram (with leopardskin trim) into the wheelchair space, then settled down to flick through something important on her mobile phone. The pram was full of cuddly toys, its interior completely sealed off from the outside world by a protective plastic covering. Of the baby itself I neither saw nor heard any trace for the entire journey.
We followed the old Bath Road out of Hounslow, then took the A4 along the northern perimeter of Heathrow Airport. I ducked instinctively as an Air China jumbo screamed unexpectedly low above our heads. The airport stretched out beside us for a good three miles, a mass of towers and tailfins and terminals. On the opposite side of the road stood an endless succession of anonymous shoeboxes, or 'hotels', where weary business travellers prepared to spend yet another lonely night emptying the minibar. Near the motorway slip road the bus was boarded by a swarm of off-duty cleaners and service staff, heading west away from their menial jobs towards where the cheaper housing is. Some town planning joker had named a nearby cul-de-sac 'Heathrow Close', which was an understatement.
Suddenly we were crossing over six lanes of snarled-up traffic on the M25 and making a clean break out of London. Grey gave way to green. The winding village of Colnbrook looked like it had been successfully saved from the ravages of 75 years of motor damage thanks to the building of one of Britain's first bypasses. Langley was more suburban, one of its lampposts transformed into a shrine by the addition of several bouquets of flowers. The bloke beside me began to fall asleep, as if in anticipation of our final destination, gradually lowering his weary head onto my shoulder. As we swung round the M4 roundabout he woke with a start, apologised profusely to cover his embarrassment and then promptly fell asleep on my shoulder again.
And then Slough was upon us. Home of the Mars Bar, birthplace of Thunderbirds and an inspiration to John Betjeman. Or, as far as I could tell through the bus window, a fairly typical modern town with a huge shopping centre, lot of cars and no character. My apologies to those who live and work here, but I'm glad that I do neither. We made a full circuit of 'that roundabout you see in the opening titles of The Office' before pulling up just outside the equally legendary Brunel Bus Station. It's a grim building, dark and filthy and forgotten. My photo shows the westernmost bus stop on the entire London Transport bus network, where a line of Slough residents waited to board escape vehicle 81 back to civilisation. I had the choice of a dingy subway leading south towards the delights of the town centre or a short walk to the railway station and a fast exit. I'm sure you can guess which route I chose.
X-17
25 years of Festive Double Issue Radio Times Covers(from the dg personal collection)
1979 Group of children in woolly hats dressing up red pillar box as snowman (120 pages, 30p)
1980 Nursery scene featuring three children gazing out of window at distant star (120 pages, 36p)
1981 Dove of peace resting on church bell (120 pages, 50p)
1982 Old galleon laden with presents (120 pages, 50p)
1983 Christmas tree featuring items from the Twelve Days of Christmas (120 pages, 56p)
1984 Christmas wreath on red front door - or is it a winking face? (160 pages, 60p)
1985 Photograph of the Trotter family (Del Boy, Uncle Albert in Santa costume, Rodney) (160 pages, 64p)
1986 Photograph of the Fowler family (Michelle with baby Vicki, Lou with baby Martin, Pauline) (160 pages, 70p)
1987 Two tousled, blond, lantern-carrying carol singers accompanied by over-cute dog (160 pages, 74p)
1988 Theatre stage featuring various tasteful pantomime characters (160 pages, 80p)
1989 Photograph of King's College chorister looking supremely angelic (164 pages, £1.00)
1990 Jolly old Santa watching TV while being offered mince pies by fawning children (164 pages, £1.10)
1991 Jolly old Santa reading Radio Times featuring jolly old Santa on the cover (180 pages, £1.10)
1992 Freckled girl looking over the shoulder of wrapped-up snowman (212 pages, £1.20)
1993 Young two-front-teeth-less boy dressed in Santa costume (220 pages, £1.30)
1994 Smiling modern family drawn '50s style' wearing party hats (220 pages, £1.30)
1995 Jolly old Santa clutching big black clapperboard (220 pages, £1.50)
1996 Top-hatted snowman emerging from golden jack-in-the-box (220 pages, £1.50)
1997 Merry old Santa pulling cracker with distant snowman (230 pages, £1.50)
1998 Cowboy Santa (with lasso) riding reindeer across snowy desert (228 pages, £1.40)
1999 Blond cherub with golden halo looking into crystal ball containing Millennium Dome (228 pages, £1.50)
2000 Giant Harry Potter emerging from pages of glowing book (204 pages, £1.55)
2001 Grinning redhead wearing Christmas-tree dress while skating on village pond (220 pages, £1.65)
2002 Santa flying aboard giant robin through sky above snowy landscape (220 pages, £1.70)
2003 Jack-in-the-box-in-the-box-in-the-box (236 pages, £1.80)
2004 Santa flying yellow plane over Christmas pudding with Britain-shaped cream topping (236 pages, £1.80)
Christmas Alphabet word search: This word search contains 25 festive words, each starting with a different letter of the alphabet. Can you identify the whole alphabetical list from A to Y? (Sorry, I gave up on Z) (Answers in the comments box)
X-6
Bow Road update: You can't use Bow Road tube station today. You couldn't use it last weekend either, or the weekend before that. In fact, what with the Christmas weekend coming up, you won't be able to use the station on any weekend in December. Then there's three more weekend closures in January and another at the end of February, all of which makes for a prolonged period of travel misery for us Bow residents on top of all the late evening closedowns we've been suffering since March. And all because renovation work at Bow Road station is going on months longer than expected, and because it seems the only way to finally bring the whole overblown project to an end is to force passengers to find alternative travel arrangements at weekends while workmen try desperately to catch up. OK, so it's only a 7 minute walk from here down the road to Mile End, but it's the principle of the thing that matters. The chairman of Metronet admits that there have been problems...
Dear Mum and Dad,
Tube strike quiz: Only two of the following excuses given for strike action on the London Underground are true. I wonder if you can tell which two they might be? (n.b. 'true' is not necessarily the same as 'justified')
Square Routes (the journeys I didn't make)
The 'Battle of Cable Street' was a pre-war watershed in the British fight against facsism. Back in October 1936 Sir Oswald Mosley aimed to stir up racial tension by rallying his loyal Blackshirts for a march through the Jewish East End of London. But he had reckoned without the strength of feeling of ordinary Londoners who were determined that the march should not pass. They set up barricade after barricade down Cable Street using bricks, barrels, corrugated iron, paving stones, timber planks and a builder's lorry. A pitched battle was fought, not against the fascists but against the police who had come to bring order to the streets. Stones were thrown, batons were raised and several participants were either injured or arrested. The protest had the desired outcome, however, and Mosley's march was re-routed west into the City where it soon dispersed. Sir Oswald would no doubt be appalled by modern Shadwell and its integrated multi-ethnic mix. The Itthadi Supermarket now stands side by side with Peter's Pie and Mash, and a giant mural on the side of the Old Town Hall commemorates the day the flames of intolerance were snuffed out.
We then began our final descent into South London, speeding past Southwark station, rounding St George's Circus and lurching towards our destination at Elephant and Castle. Words cannot describe the awfulness of the shopping centre here (except for words such as 'hideous', 'over-pink' and 'poverty-stricken'). The market clinging to the pavement outside the main entrance was wretched enough but the bleak selection of shops inside was even worse, reminiscent of some struggling postwar Eastern European state. The quicker they knock this place down the better, although I believe 2010 is the earliest likely date. I had to leave - my tenth and final Square Route had finally driven me round the bend.
The 81 heads west out of west London and keeps going, and keeps going, right off the edge of the map. I think (and Matt will undoubtedly tell me if I'm wrong) that the 81 is the London bus route that terminates the furthest away from the centre of the capital. About 25 miles away, in this case. And, as for that final distant destination, I had hoped I'd seen the last of this particular town earlier this year when my bosses sanely decided not to relocate my workplace in this far-flung hellhole. But no, here I was destined to return. Bloody square numbers.
Suddenly we were crossing over six lanes of snarled-up traffic on the M25 and making a clean break out of London. Grey gave way to green. The winding village of Colnbrook looked like it had been successfully saved from the ravages of 75 years of motor damage thanks to the building of one of Britain's first bypasses. Langley was more suburban, one of its lampposts transformed into a shrine by the addition of several bouquets of flowers. The bloke beside me began to fall asleep, as if in anticipation of our final destination, gradually lowering his weary head onto my shoulder. As we swung round the M4 roundabout he woke with a start, apologised profusely to cover his embarrassment and then promptly fell asleep on my shoulder again.
