london

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The new White City

2 years ago, mid-September

Health warning (and apology): nothing to do with cricket, whatsoever, other than I work near Shepherds Bush and live nearby.

Michael Gutman, of Westfield London said: “You can come in the morning and get your groceries…go to the gym and have a workout, come back at lunchtime and do your shopping…then come back in the evening and see a movie, sit in a restaurant and have a drink until late.

And? Do people really want this? If I want to lead such a rigid lifestyle, and admittedly routine and society dictates we must, I really wouldn’t want to tick off my daily todo list all in the confines of one airconditioned centre. I see the benefits and the advantages for those “less abled”, but the sales pitch is utter dribble. Yet, despite my cynicism, I’m excited about the development; White City might as well be renamed White Shitty for all its lack of amenities.

It will bring revitalised transport to the area (much needed); thousands of jobs (always welcomed) and, apparently, revolutionise the “shopping experience” (more dribble). But they’re spending £1.6bn on an isolated shopping centre in what is, relative to the rest of the country, a prosperous area. What about the dozens of small, independent shops and businesses which close every week, trampled over by the giants? Why aren’t they better supported by the government? Why are we constantly driven like sheep into a pen of mediocrity and sameness? Am I the only one who enjoys shopping in smaller shops?

Sameness is so useful, though. Go to any town in Britain and you’ll find the same chain of shops. You can get your toothpaste from Boots; get money from any cash machine you choose; buy “organic” pears grown in Spain, even if you’re on holiday in Bolton. And if you’ve run out of tennis balls or CDs - or even a thong - Woolworths will provide them all, usually at bargain prices (if seemingly second-hand quality). This is all damn fine news for the give it to me now consumer, but it depresses and annoys me that we’re so helpless to stop the juggernaut retail giants from swallowing the market wherever the green land lies empty.

Here endeth the rant.

Pavilion Street

2 years ago, at the end of July

Sloanies

I had to buy a special present for somebody a couple of days ago. In fact, it was yesterday. So I went to good’ol Peter Jones where I rightly suspected it might be quiet and tolerable. Nothing worse than a packed shop, even for tallish folk like me. As my Godmother once said to me, “never underestimate other people’s stupidity” and so it has come true. Of particular annoyance lately are those cretinous fools at the top of escalators who, with great force, slam on their brakes leaving you to back-peddle and cause people behind you to do the same.

Fortunately, I didn’t have to take any deep breaths or even restrain myself - it was cool, quiet and pleasant. However, like most blokes who venture into the dark, mysterious world of “shopping”, I failed spectacularly. If there was an award for Most Hopeless Shopper, I’d be well up there with a chance of presenting the award the following year, or gaining presidency of People Who Hate Shopping Anonymous.

Wandering around with a constant frown creasing my forehead, all the ideas and thoughts which I’d painstakingly scrutinised over had, suddenly, vanished. Twice I was asked if I needed any help, to which the first time I replied “Oh no! Ohh no, I’m just browsing. Thanks” and the second “Why is everything so expensive?” And it’s true. Why is everything so expensive? I saw a fork for £8. I could make an entire set for that money.

This is all by-the-by, as usual. After sending the lifts up to the top-floor like the four-year-old which I pretend I’m not, I escaped into London’s concrete radiator for a stroll round Sloane Square. It’s not my type of area if I’m brutally honest, but actually I warmed to it with the near-constant presence of half-naked Sloanies. Everywhere, they were; jumping in, and out, of their Chelsea Tractors and generally having a rah rah lovely time of it.

I then found this street, a cobbled mews with old, restored garage-doors and great (and not so great) cottages. Like something out of Dickens. You don’t see that much in London. Sure enough two of the garages had been ripped out by a particularly chic-looking designer store, who surely can’t gain many visitors tucked away so far from the high street. It was a flipping great street to live in, I imagined - and it’s name?

Pavilion Street. Clearly I’m destined to live there.

If any of you do live there, and/or have a 2-bed place nearby to rent to me for about £500/month (each), let me know. I’m a brilliant tenant, fabulous cook and sometimes drink beer.

Any cricketing streets near you?

London heatwave

2 years ago, mid-July

35 degrees is just wrong. 36 is hell.

We Brits weren’t designed to live like this. That’s why when thousands invade Spain and France in July and August they return looking like tomatoes. It’s all very well having a heatwave but only if you live by the sea.

Roll on winter, jackets, wind and pubs with open fires. Heatwaves should, frankly, be outlawed.

Chris Read hits hundred against Pakistan

2 years ago, at the start of July

Chris Read pulling for four
Copyright AP

Chris Read has hit a hundred against the touring Pakistanis. I wonder whether Geraint Jones rather wishes he was playing for England A to get some practice. When bad light stopped play, Read was unbeaten on 120 (scorecard). Well done that man. I still think Jones will play in the Ashes, rightly or wrongly; the decision (I believe) has been made.

Read, at the very least, should play in the one-day side. On that thoughtful note, I’m off to drink London dry.

Two minutes silence

2 years ago, at the start of July

But with the weather looking unsettled, Read and Loudon regrouped impressively, to carry England to a healthy 365 for 6 at the break. Play was halted at 12pm local time (1100GMT) for Britain’s national two minutes silence marking the first anniversary of the London terror bombings. Players from both sides lined up on the outfield while spectators stood.

Good to hear. I was outside a Starbucks at the time, but was sadly just one of two standing in silence. The rest, including a particularly thoughtless and irritating teenage scrote, were on their mobile phones; talking loudly; laughing; shouting or were completely oblivious to the commemorative silence. Fair enough, I thought; people can do as they wish, but it struck me as extraordinary that so few could even be arsed.

SW13 for you, I guess.

The monthly rant: London buses

2 years ago, mid-June

A crowded bus It’s been a while since I chastised a public service, or an entire continent - so I just thought I’d get this off my chest. Buses.

What’s worse; a bus driver who never lets anyone on, or one who lets everyone on? THE LATTER and here’s why. When I’m on the bus, I don’t really care about anyone else getting on. Selfish, perhaps, but commuting in London requires a degree of focus and single-minded bastardness (”get out of my way you suit/beggar/pushchair/”). Bah. Pushchairs - that’s for next month, definately. Their owners think they have licence to rip your ankles to shreds, repeatedly, so long as little Johnny doesn’t have to walk a few metres, I mean honestly - get out of my bloody way.

On my very lengthy journey home of at least two miles, the 72 was driven by the world’s chattiest driver. Normally I’d welcome such a cheery and charitable fellow - but I was in a rush to get back home, get the kettle on and have my seventh cup of tea. (as it was, I ended up in the pub, but that’s by the by). Everyone was allowed on the bus. Everyone. It was heaving and groaning under the sweaty mass of countless exhausted workers and grotty teenagers.

Noah's fucking Ark

Just when one of Transport for London’s Arks was about to buckle, the driver would notice a couple more people furiously waving their Oyster cards and unread-but-nevertheless-crumpled newspapers, demanding that the Ark stopped to allow them aboard. And it worked! On they came, usually in twos (just to really piss me off). The doors shut, handbrake lifted and off we went. NO! More. Brakes slammed on, door opened - and best of all, the apparently chipper driver hurried them on, “Quickly, quick quick, come on”. Needless to say, my silent prayers that he would ignore the fledgling, desperate commuters fell on deaf ears.

I have never seen a bus so full. Thankfully, I’m tall enough to rise above the smell of London’s armpits. Unfortunately for everyone else, I had a very late and drunken evening last night and didn’t have a shower this morning, so unleashed my whiff on the greedy buggers delaying my journey.

God this is fun, ranting without cause or reason. I’ll promise to limit it to once a month. Meanwhile - aren’t England rubbish at the moment?

Disclaimer: despite today’s trouble, I actually have very very few problems with London’s transport system. The Tube is still better suited for Noah’s flock than us lot - ha! well no! Because actually, cattle can’t be transported over 30c or something, and the Tube in the summer rises to an Egyptian 39c - but it does work, for me. And the buses, while crammed, hardly ever let me down.

On or in the Tube?

2 years ago, at the start of June

In the underground (London, for those not in the know), do you go in the Tube, or on the Tube?

I go on the Tube. Please settle this debate for me.

Cricketer in transit

2 years ago, at the end of May

Now there’s something you don’t see every day

Originally uploaded by Flickr user nickyboy.

Fantabulous! Look at this - it’s a giant cricketer. Doesn’t look like Warne, but I fear it might be (what happened to the diet Warney?!).

If you know who it is, where it was taken and what the Terry Duffin it all means, leave a comment.

Update: Yep - it’s Warne alright! And he’s stationed in Piccadilly Circus. Good grief.

Rampaging Mark Ramprakash

2 years ago, at the start of May

Mark Ramprakash is 276 not out, and with two full days to go, I don’t see why Surrey shouldn’t allow him to go on and get himself a triple century. So if you live in the London area, and you haven’t anything else to do tomorrow, go down to the Oval and cheer him on.

Also while you are there you can bag Ian Harvey, who plays for Gloucestershire, for having possibly the worst haircut ever.

Mick Jagger will be my neighbour

2 years ago, mid-March

Self-confessed cricket-nut, Mr Mick Jagger, is looking for a house in Barnes. Now, I like Barnes - it’s a bit like a village, without Village People - but I’d find it hard to imagine Jagger would want to live so far away from Lord’s. I mean, it’s at least 40 minutes. With all the money he has, wouldn’t he be better off living closer to St John’s Wood?

On similar lines, my friend recently met Jade Jagger, Mick’s daughter. I still hold out hope that one day I’ll be able to interview Mick and grab m’self an exclusive! So Mick, if you’re reading, gimme a bell and I’ll buy you a house-warming pint in Barnes.

For God’s sake, be quiet

2 years ago, at the end of January

I never thought I’d say this, but anyway. I left work an hour or so ago and retreated to a cafe near where I live. On the way back, a call I was expecting to receive came through so I ran to the library to sort it and some other stuff out. Here I am, with a stupid time-limit - ticking away, reminding me I’m only allowed here for another 30 minutes and 29, 28, 27, 26 seconds…

and it’s a bloody free-for-all.

There’s a Slovak arguing with someone two PCs down; an impossibly large, elderly woman is asking anyone who can be bothered to listen “How do I print my floppy?”; and meanwhile, the woman next to me has clearly signed up to the “I Can Speak Louder Than You” competition. And by the way, she LOVED the concert last night.

Now, since moving to London I’ve realised the great benefits libraries offer, especially to the impoverished like me (or any twenty-year-old working in London!). And yes, the last time I set foot in one I was an irritable, impressionable little scumbag who delighted at winding up librarians. Not now. I’m older, embittered, SO PLEASE SHUT UP AND LET ME WORK!

Back in London

3 years ago, at the end of December

I’m back in London. Normal blogging will resume shortly. If anyone from a big computer firm reading this would like to sponsor me with a laptop, to aid my blogging, please get in touch.

Well, it was worth asking…

Upcoming hiatus

3 years ago, at the end of November

Far, far too much going on at the moment to spend any time here I’m afraid. The next few weeks are going to be hectic beyond belief as I’m moving house (twice, in effect) so stick around - should have some excitingish news for you quite soon.

And as ever, if anyone here has a “spare” flat in London - preferably a nice one / two-bed place with a sitting room, kitchen, bathroom and a loo seat which *hasn’t* cracked, with lights that *do* work and with floors which don’t have evidence of fresh rat’s shit on them - don’t hesitate to contact me. (I’m serious!)

Much obliged, ta cheers and t’ra for now

Trafalgar Square victory parade for England’s cricketers

3 years ago, mid-September

15.02 They’re now at Lord’s, or will be soon. Photos from the event will be posted here

14.35 They’re off to Lord’s for the official ceremony, watched by about 15 people so it looks. They’re currently talking to Tony Blair, for their sins, and will make their way to Lord’s to hand over the Urn and receive the ugly glass trophy. Keep getting emails from you asking about the Urn: it’s not the real urn, it’s a replica. The real one is safely housed in the Lord’s museum.

14:32 So much for my 300,000 prediction! More like 25,000 say police…

13:16 Celebrations continue, Jerusalem ringing out and every other song you can think of! The players were all interviewed by David Gower and Mark Nicholas, then the Barmy Army leader (spokesman?!) got their anthem going, with all the players joining in. This is awesome. And I hear they’re off to meet Tony and Liz! Good old Liz

12:21 The noise is incredible! Must be 300,000 people packed into Trafalgar Square, and the bus has finally arrived there. Chorus of “Ing-ger-land” ringing out, interviews by Gower and Nicholas soon. Never seen anything like this, bloody amazing. Unnecessary jingoism or deserved celebrations? Deserved, says I…

12:12 I dunno how many people are there, but there must be hundreds of thousands? Flipping brilliant. I think this parade in itself could magnetise a few more fans to the great game! Fred looks absolutely mullered, and is still drinking; what a champion, what a drinking inspiration!

Open-top bus tour, thousands of people lining the streets to see the winning England team. Amazing scenes, quite amazing. This is just not cricket! But, brilliantly, it now is cricket - let’s hope cricket can really embrace the success of their national team, and not ~~fuck~~ mess things up like Rugby Union arguably did after winning the World Cup.

I’m confident they won’t. Anyway, let’s just enjoy the bus-tour and the success!! I’ll keep this updated with anything interesting