Oh the peace (relative) and joy of xmas

The one time of year when there’s no blasted buses with incontinent bus drivers incapable of switching off their engines (regardless of winter, spring, summer autumn) , no squeals of engines nor the grating sound of brakes as they park up, no belching clouds of smoke nor invisible clouds of cancerous gas, no noise, no pollution, no vibrations to worry about. 

However in 2011, we shall be concentrating on recording the offending drivers and officials who feel above the regulations (there to not annoy residents) they appear happy to flout!

So to all able to enjoy or not this time, peace and happiness to one and all.

Seasonal greets

Xmas?

Oh dear, that time of year’s once more arrived. 

Now that I managed to squeak my assessment in before the deadline, I can devote a bit of time to conjure up some imagery that conveys the finest of my thoughts on the prickly season!

Keep the leaks alive!

Wikileaks in switzerland - http://46.59.1.2/

Jobsworth

“…we’re living in an age of the jobsworths.  Whom if they momentarily thought outside of their hide-bound heads, would explode in a shower of glittery shiny sparks.”

Gritty U's

Sigh, what to say about sgu?
Brilliant.  Excellent character portrayals, a nice departure from its sugar-coated predecessors.   For those who have never seen its predecessors, using the current sgu series as a benchmark would leave you pondering whether the entire franchise encompasses nothing but doom and gloom, whilst the cast are all trying to romp back home in a holed handcart; all firmly held in a rigid fist that's squeezing the bejesus out of them before spitting the remnants like so much used sticky nasty tobacco - and that's in a happy episode!
This (series) is/was turning out to be one of my favourties sg's, and they'd better ensure there's a sufficient number of series's down the pipeline to keep us stalwart gits happy  - otherwise, executives, a crate of kinos'll be shoved into places the sun doesn't have any place shining  - nicely of course!

Leave of absence

I have temporarily taken a leave of absence from the linux world as i've been extensively using w7 on a new laptop; the experience has, so far, proven remarkably reasonable - obviously much has been purloined from both mac and linux worlds but i have so far being amazed that the os (a msoft piece of work) hasn't yet fallen over - seven days and counting.
Despite the aura of reasonableness i shall (once the hdd is upgraded) dual boot with a linux distro, if only because i have this nagging suspicion that eventually something will happen on the w7 side that will entail me losing everything i may have forgotten to back-up.
Unlike linux which can work on a sixpence, w7 is a resource hog.  However, i could finally get around to ditching xp in favour of w7, eventually.

Tagged

It probably won't be long before we (poor people) are forced to have one. After all, it would be far cheaper than having to send out cards or keys, or fiddle around and about with id papers - simply pop into your local iap (identification access point), wave your hand over a screen that instantly updates and authorises you, synchronising your identity and all your information.

Handy for when you've succumbed to that "one for the road" tipple and need to be dragged from a hedge by the emergency services!

Oddities

Not sure that i'm totally content with scribefire as a windows writer replacement (one of the rapidly shrinking products that i still miss from the windows world), as it's handling of pages, images and general formatting, still isn't quite there - passable for basic stuff, unless your fully conversant with html, but for those who faint at the first sight of a command-like line, it's not quite there.

Noises from the arse-end!

Apart from the odd bit of chewing gum thrown into the garden, takeway boxes and the like, oh yes the increasing boy-racers (according to the recordings), and buses braking for all their worth with engines on and still idling and about as environmentally friendly as any suv (showing once more that tfl are talking out their end, yet again) , an all-nighter soon to be on at the venue, et all... apart from all of that, i'm feeling chipper. 

Perhaps it's nothing more than the taste of winter around the corner.

The new same old difference

Let the games begin...

Bonfire of the sensibilities

Hack and slash and burn, and make them pay, and cut cut cut!

If you're poor that is, or struggling by.

An extra 2.5% of costs will be added onto anything already at 17.5%: clothes, prepared foods, telecoms; if you're budget is already 100%, spoken for, what options apart from reduction in food, or clothes do you have?  There are already 75* people chasing every job vacancy, so even if you have a first in higher humanities tuff luck and will soon be donning your new condem puce one-size fits all jumpsuit, showing that you are not only helping the community by working for your benefit, but checked to ensure that your bags are packed (for when your number's up), and they ship you out to the most pest infested, damp rotted, single-glazed, asbo condemned, cctv covered, tourist free, locations in the country!

Welcome to the brand new world of dickens.  Tour guides not required.

Outside?

"You do realise there's a world outside?"

"Only in your dark fevered imagination."

Vibrating ninnies

When numerous residential properties are subject to vibrations causing cracks to appear, due to deep intense vibrations from a club venue, and its associated acts usage of coaches parked less than 9ft from residents premises, and after growing complaints from residents - many of whom have lived here for years - you really would think a council would take a pro-active stance, that a council would even turn up and take not only normal 'a' or 'c' weighted measurements but also conduct specific low frequency analysis so keeping up with the increasing trend for deep low bass bone-jarring music replacing the normal higher dulcet tones as venues side-step noise regulations by not peaking the previous and now outdated normal monitoring ranges.

Indeed, as low frequency travels further through the ground and structures, a growing tide of disaffected residents should provide sufficient stimulus so that officers can finally show that they really are looking out for the 'little wee guys'; instead of which, here we appear to be the meat flung to the lions.

Perhaps concern for residents is the norm in many other boroughs.  Even in this one, reports of churches and bars being taken to court, shows such concern obviously occurs here too - except for (and i might have mentioned it before) this peculiar little triangle, where the cry seems more akin to "liquidate the residents, especially those who dare complain", and as staff boy racers treat the little street like a race track, the venue treats the area like an open air park, bus drivers  treat it like an exhaust testing site, and coaches for acts at the venue treat it like a vibration testing pad, i sometimes wonder what role the old ted knight & co's days played in rendering the situation as badly as it is.

One good thing appears to be coming out of this (if having your health harmed can be viewed as a good thing), is my decision to do an environmental course; so i can work out - instead of just wondering - exactly who officers in environmental departments are supposed to be protecting, as in this case they don't appear to give a damn about the people who live here.

A case in point.  What effect does a 12+ ton coach have, when parked less than 9ft from your living room, with engine on and running for hours at a time with associated vibrations and belching out noxious exhaust?  

Sadly despite numerous years of complaints to the council, apparently not one measurement has been taken by them, as apparently there is no records showing that any complaint has been investigated, that any visit to the premise has been done, that any action by the council has occured (over 20 years), nothing. So a quick peek, at a foi request, showed up. Nothing. We both sat there in hysterics at the slapstick nature of it all.  But there is, however, an air monitoring station on the main road where the nearest residential property is hundreds of metres away.  Naturally they could have positioned it down and round the corner, but do you really want residents to know just how badly polluted the area really is? After all, they might want you to do something.

You generally can't expect an entertainment venue to do or know any better, it's like a dog that has the urge to lick, it does what it does.  The council on the other hand should.

Argos

It was refreshing realising the world outside's quite (or can be) nice.

I sent an email off to argos after browsing their site and a pc caught my eye with large screen, and enough functionality to mean i can, briefly, escape the clutches of the bermuda triangle.  Sadly it had windows 7 installed.

Now i'm neither a windows hater (really) or mac fanboy, or linux diehard but it gets cumbersome when you can throw a dice as to when your os decides to go belly-up, and with windows it happens far too often.  With my linux mint setup it has only failed to play ball once and  had to be rebooted and that's in over 10 months use, the last time i booted into the xp side it stayed up for all of 2 hours before falling over.

The thing with windows is that it needs defraging every two seconds, numerous virus-checkers (auto & manual) to help your chances of missing something nasty, anti-malware/spamware/drive by download/rootkit/etc., and cleaned regularly, and that's before you can start to breath easy.

Life really is too short to have to continually hunt around for something that's screwed with your system, unless you do it for living, enjoy the challenge from time to time, or simply wish to get down and in-depth with your bits of metal; but not when you're intensely in the middle of something and it decides to go poof!

Not only that but i'm looking for something i can easily carry and read and use and upgrade when i wish to without having to send it on a round the world cruise or have some dodgy repair merchant browsing my all my files.  

Where was i? Ah yes, argos.  

I was impressed after reciving a call (not an email) from an argos staff member saying "they didn't supply the system without the os, as they had a deal with the manufacturer and it comes pre-installed."  A very friendly and knowledgable member of staff who also told me of the problems he had when he wanted to do a similar thing.

That reminded me of a staff member in a financial company on the phone who went from trying to sell me a product to  spending 30 minutes  wanting to make a career change as he was "tired and disillusioned with the crap he had to go through every day."

If you're out there do it!  Send that script in to them and set up a videocast.  You have nothing to lose.

 

So argos, four happy tabs are pinned on your earnest friendly technical call staff member.  It would have been five, but, you just couldn't kick the windows habit.

Google car?

It was delightful watching the google car, thoughts immediately turned to...  a google bus!

A bus where engines are switched off when it's stationary at the terminus, but then it wouldn't need to terminate as it could run all the time until it needs servicing; where it then automatically makes its way to the garage for a service - no having to take a tea break nor toilet break - and with decent manufacturing behind it, able to practically run 23/7 without pay or holidays... wonder when we'll see the first one.  Could this be the start of happy days, who needs to be told?

But wait a moment as I pop on my noise-cancelling headphones with internal bass boost which cut down all the noisy street noise to the level of squeaking mice.  With this on, the only time I know a noise-machine is going past is a slight increase in the vibrations tickling my feet - at least I know there's still some circulation occurring in those stubby trunks, and if i do hear it, then the blighters will obviously be deaf in a few months time - hurrah!

I remember commenting somewhere that this little triangle has more akin to the wild west.  But over the past months that's changed.  It is actually the wild west enmeshed in an episode of the twilight zone, where a strange number of people really are, very, very strange.

Global handwashing and the poops of doom!

Well, the other day was global handwashing day, and still the message seems to be lost, but then in those parts of the world where people have to choose between using water to wash their hands, or water to drink, then can you really blame them for not doing so, instead of those who treat everything as a commodity including human lives?

I remember many years ago when still an ardent clubber with legs that moved, that - regardless of my unsteady gait - after every visit to a toilet (restroom), on the way out i'd ensure i my hands were washed; even if every other part of me was liberally flinging dancing sweat as far as my flailing arms would carry them.  Amusing, but certainly not nice.  Even then - however briefly - i started to notice whilst waiting for those lines to go down that fellow clubbers who would be in and out without the slightest momentary glance at the washbasin area; regardless of whether they'd visited the urinals, or spent hours worshipping the ceramic, or enjoying those other things which never required the necessity of placing hands anywhere near genitalia and so never required the closer inspection of soap and water.  

Talking of poop.  During a quick clean out to remove dust-bunnies and using the time to do some re-arranging, i noticed a can of 'paint & varnish remover' festooned with bubbles speckling its lower half.  Cursing spiders for their pooings, I used some diluted bleach to remove the offending bits, only to find the spiders poop had seemingly eaten through the paint and metal allowing the contents to slowly but surely seep out.  Either that or the contents of the can had possibly become more toxic over the months and eaten through, or the two had conspired to combine and decided to create the holes on purpose! 

At this juncture, i believe it is the first option, as the shape and distribution of the dots lend themselves far more favourably to that more plausible scenario especially as the area was rife with webs and dessicated spiders before been flushed, instead of both the spider poo and the varnish remover suddenly having a life all of their own. 

 

Know it alls

You know when you're on the right track when those who should measure, fail to measure, decide to pro-actively work out how not to measure, indeed find every possible method of not having to be anywhere near the place to measure, as measuring would show how short of the mark they've fallen.

On the other hand if those who should measure do, and find nothing, then they will have done their duty and it's simply down to the delicate nature of those who live in the vicinity.

Jingle bug!

Seven more posts and i’ll have bested my earlier years postings of bilge, showing just what tripe they truly are.

Luckily, it’s rapidly entering that time of year where, instead of me expressing the caustic delights of my existence through the badly mangled utterances of my mother tongue, i’ll be expressing those delights through the medium of 20 odd wonderful pictograms, all effusing with wonderment at the joyous celebratory humbug… ha, haha, hahahahahahaha!

Sound booms

It's interesting to note that the sort of sound that can sway buildings, that can crack structures, that causes your whole body to vibrate, is - according to lambeth council - more than acceptable to output and so what if it's inflicted on residents who stand in the way of- what's that green stuff?

Now where's my lfnsa...

Lest we forget

"I'm all for states buying stuff up and helping capitalism." - Courtesy fox news presenter.

Coughing buses

It seems i'm stuck in a theme of which there's nothing wrong, just as long as i don't become subsumed by it - otherwise i'll have to do the honourable thing and try to make it pay its way.

But, this afternoon as i sat penning, writing out a few more details of offending bus drivers failing to switch off their engines whilst stationary at the stand; i noticed in my aggregate news reader - which pops up whenever the robo-searches come slinking back home with heavy packets regarding anything bus worthy - that two events happened at both ends of the spectrum of twilightness, that required a little bit of pedantry.

The first was news of a london bus driver being charged with the sad death of a cyclist - full news here, and the second was that arriva had been shortlisted for eight categories for the prestigious national uk bus awards.  What makes this so curious is the bus garage nominated for bus garage of the year, is also the garage where the driver charged with the death of the cyclist was based.

I continued sipping my coffee, watching half of my life continue its downward slide, whilst the other bobs slightly buoyantly.

Twidleness

Wait a mo isn’t there another conference ripping into the poor, taking milk from infants, feeding whole swathes of the luckless to lions - or the mincing machine that goes by the title you have no life, that i might have missed…

Unseemly rip’s

Oh world webby, where would we be without you!

It appears my initial woe’s and teeth gnashing were overdone and mightily premature, as a more thorough search indicated that it could just be a corrupt error in the start up causing the wsod (white screen of death) looping, and if lucky wouldn’t need to download a firmware tool from a third-party, nor a hacked tool from some unknown party, but straight from sony ericssons own site which eventually popped out an update tool for download to update the firmware. 

Firmware updates, especially during the earlier days of motherboard bios flashing, held similar delights to stuffing your head into the mouth of a lion and daring it to bite your head off - only for the brave. 

But it went through the upgrade process with only 3% of battery power without a hiccup.  I was now able to get the phone to switch on, quickly realising that my backups never actually existed outside of my imagination, and the phone refused to see the memory card. 

At least it was progress.

After pausing to ponder it hit me.  After the firmware update, do another reset, a reset using the phones factory default option. 

Before doing that however, i transferred the flash card to disk, formatted the flash card, re-copied the information and voila, all of the data was back in, sadly minus contacts.  Even the sim was cleared of contacts, which i could have done years ago and not realised.  Luckily had contacts scattered in the cloud.  Exported those to vcf format and synced address book with phone which worked.  So, barring losing data for people who i haven’t been in touch with for decades, regular service has been resumed. 

On this occasions i’m more than happy to loft five happy tabs for the webby’s practical and useful information and sony ericssons site which saved a fraught shopping trip and loss of all data. 

Now with the camera back in operation, ready to take pictures of whatever noise they’re creating outside… hold on… oh.. painting lovely red double-lines, so everyone and his dog can park there.  On third thoughts I’ll resist the temptation to pop a snap, save on its wear ‘n tear.

RIP for faithful years

As the maelstrom that is my existence, continues it plunge down the rabbit hole, it's now swallowed my faithful phone; yes it was a brick compared to the latest slim-line razor sharp offerings, but up until today it did everything i needed a phone to do without airs or graces and done them well.  

Today, it died.  The screen just blinks on then off.  I could get it repaired, but its battered carcass has seen better years - like its owner, and as the other two mobiles also died displaying the same symptom, its time for it to hit that great mobile recycling facility in the sky.

So come in rip k750i, your time has finally arrived.

Bus strike

Did someone say the buses are going on strike? 

Oh please make it so, failing that a ditch, a very large ditch!

Home delivery triumphs

Order 2 - Day 1 - 11:44

Never one not to turn the other cheek (at least once) nor grasp enough rope to swing by, i plumped for another delivery by that august (spot the tonal difference) grocers, sainsburys!

An amazing transformation.  

For some odd reason i'd forgotten i'd placed an order for delivery today, thinking instead it was due tomorrow.  Around 10:53hrs i received a call from the driver saying "everything's okay. I've found the building and will be with you shortly."

Here? I had to enquire whether he'd really had the right day.  Sure enough he had, with an added surprise of also arriving early.  Soon i was placing numerous orange bags around the fume-ridden parts of the flat, making note of those items which were out of stock that could wait until i made a trip to the farmers market instead.  I was, however, so contented with the delivery i decided to call expressing said effusive contentment.

For a growing agrophobe, not having to participate in the melee that goes by the name of shopping is a mighty boon.  I now just need to get my air piped from the arctic, the bubble, and i'd explode through sheer blissful contentedness.

So far it's being one good experience vs. a crappy one, with the third shopping experience test just a few short weeks away.  

On this occasion i'm giving five happy tabs to sainsburys.

 

Ba

Just when i finally grasped how to successfully grow large pelargoniums and toy with the idea of gently squeezing those essential oils, drop by drop, into thin-necked bottles for a sublime organic pot-pouri experience (even had the poster designs); I only discover my delicate little skin is allergic to its scented touch and breaks out faster than a teenager on a diet of pizza and radioactive sunny dependent.

In a brief second, what could have been the gateway to a bucket-load of green liquid happiness (although it still could be if i don't inhale, touch, or have any of it waft over me), turns out to be something else that i need to add to the growing list of toxicity that's slowly making me wonder whether i should invest in a very large bubble!  Naturally it would have to be a sound-proofed bubble, with tasers appropriately positioned and a concealed bear trap or two for back up!  

In hindsight, it's a good thing i never conjured up a whole batch and dipped my head in, that would have been embarrassing to explain down at a&e - if i made it that far.

So what else is it good for, apart from infusing a nasty smelling fume laden room with the wonderful scent of freshly cut lemon? 

Culinary, air fragrance or purely ornamental.  

Ah yes

Nothing like a new broom to bring us back to the good old days…

Luckily, with “air quality in london amongst the worst in
europe,” london assembly air quality report 2009, we’ll soon be enjoying pea-soup, for free!  That is those of us on the ground level with bus stands for neighbours.

If anyone knows where the above pics come from, please email so they can be gratefully accredited (or taken down).

'elping elderlies

On the one hand lambeth is celebrating the elderly by announcing october is the month for 'celebrating age'  jointly organised by themselves and age concern.

They should have a chat with licensing, the environment department, oh yes, and tfl just to see how much consideration they truly show the elderly (indeed seemingly show anyone over their 40's let alone those 70-90+ year olds) in this little part of the borough.

But if you're not able to conjour up the imagery let me help out. It's nothing short of a damnable disgrace.

Admirable midges

Every now and then things occur which smears a smidge of admiration, no not admiration, delight at the potential of selflessness in the social side of humanity.  Luckily, and seemingly as quickly its usually beaten to death by an avalanche of human behaviour, proving how nasty the social side of humanity can be; which luckily, every now and then is offset by things which smear a smidge of... 

Snailorama

It's yet another damp and wet period here in the smoke, perfect conditions to see whether the previous snail-surge for the algal patches would be repeated.

The viriginia creeper is in its last flush of greenery, but still contains a fair amount of lush green leaves.  Out of six snails, five were happily munching on algal growth and the sixth tackling its way through the bush; eye-stalks straining to their fullest extent as it strove like a maddened rabid dog to partake in whatever goodness these green squelching mats hold for these speeding gastropods.

Another test is obviously in order; something like a glass bottle placed mid-way between the algal patch and other greener bits, then simply watching which direction the snails speed off to.

Talking about racers, boy racing wonders have been a bit thin on the ground recently, do hope they've found that ditch - unharmed naturally!

Testing…

 1, 2, 3… testing…

Where shall i begin …

… since the line's now drawn.

Home delivery perils?

For the first time in a few years i thought i’d brave the old home delivery service of one of the big uk grocers (yes sainsuburys this is about you) once more; especially with a bout of growing agrophobia, passionate dislike for shopping, twinned with an even greater dislike over the herding and pushing that normally equates to a usual shopping experience, so entailing that i generally manage to miss the majority of bargains displayed somewhere in some aisle and upon reaching home find half (well, one or two) of what i’ve brought is either out of date, fit for the bin or otherwise not quite the right item i'd wanted in the first place.

Yes, i do indeed zone out when in shopping zones. 

I thought that after a few years, the online grocery shopping experience would had improved by leaps and bounds.  Like opening the curtains in the morning and instead of being greeted by a rising sun you're killed by a gamma-ray burst instead.

It took about a week for me to carefully craft the shopping list to my exact requirements.  Despite squashing initial qualms and successfully batting away worst-case scenarios - that eventually fled the roost - i pottered around expectantly, expecting this first order to proceed swimmingly and without a hitch.  Well, i did place it with sainsburys!

The day came and the hours fled, and i noticed i’d missed a text message.   I soon realised those scenarios i thought eliminated, had simply taken up roost elsewhere along the line, and as i read the sms i’d received saying i should call them, I realised the game was probably up and everything would head downhill from there.  Which it promptly did. 

The first glitch was my own.  Somewhere amongst the process of entering card details i’d apparently entered one wrong digit, which was a worry as it was all supposedly verified when the order was submitted.  Eventually it processed and went through, and the order was still supposed to arrive within the allotted time frame i’d picked; which came and went.  After an hour of nothing, i called.

The very pleasant and helpful lady tried to contact the online/orders department - who weren’t answering.  She was frustrated, i was intrigued, that the two worst case scenarios i thought might happen, had indeed happened.  Why is it never a lottery win?

I decided not to scream and rant (which bizarrely seemed to be present just below the surface – better than the usual amounts of visualising i have to bat away), after all they are just doing their jobs, and somewhere along the chain outside of their direct control something had gone screwy.  As i picked through the motley scrapping of butter beans & onion with a side-order of salt & vinegar crisps - until re-delivery turned up something more edible – i took to pondering instead of pottering.

It’s being an interesting first foray back into the grocery delivery world, not surprised that it went belly up, even before it had the opportunity to leave the starting gate.   Saying that, i suppose i really shouldn’t grumble, at least i along with others have the option to have food delivered or otherwise trudge out to centers with elbows ‘oft.

So sainsburys, six hearty raspberries to you – well i would, if they’d been delivered!

Update 1

08:24 hrs – spoke to another charming employee who went off to speak with one of his colleagues in the store delivering the items.  They informed him that they had no idea what had taken place last night, but would print out a report and call me back in an hour to see whether i’d want a re-delivery or refund.  I happily expressed my gratitude and waited.

Update 2

09:24 hrs – arrived and 09:24 departed.

Update 3

10:24 hrs – spoke to another charming employee who quickly read through the notes and called the store - no prevaricating here.  Apparently the store had called me and left a voice message just after 10am.  Unfortunately, i’m not exactly sure where they left the message, since nothing has yet come through on the mobile nor the landline phone, which has been remarkably silent in its cradle.  She went on to tell me that the store had decided to re-arrange my goods delivery between 3-4pm utterly ignoring the original delivery time of 8-9pm as any indication of the actual preferred time.

Update 4

10:46 hrs – the very nice, helpful and charming member of staff called me back, informing me that i should expect my delivery between 7-8pm.  Sadly no extra loyalty points, but i will be in receipt of a voucher for £10 to use on or off line,

I can rapidly see this tentative foray back into the world of grocery home delivery being my last for a long while, as i take those silly notions of ease, relaxing whilst shopping, taking the weight off my tree-trunk legs, not having to fight the hordes; and stuff them heartily back into their boxes.

Update 5?

Day 2 - 20:03 hrs and neither delivery nor phone call from sainsburys relating to anything food-worthy, so time to give them a call and gather up my spending portfolio and take the whole thing elsewhere. So before i wave good-bye to edf, so long to argos, and good riddance to sainsburys, i will make that final call to see what the excuse is, obtain my refund and - shudder - go out shopping.

Update 6

Day 2 - 20:15 hrs and finally it's arrived, the driver wasn't, apparently, the same one from yesterday so had no idea what had taken place. As i slowly unpacked everything i realised the disaster continued apace: the fish had defrosted, the meat was in containers expanded to twice their size, one of the items was missing (despite the paper having it included and included on the receipt), i was surprised all the eggs seemed in one piece and bottles hadn't been smashed. So fish and mince refunded, the voucher is only an e-voucher though and i'm really not sure i wish to place another order with sainsburys and subsequently impact my health if this is their way of impressing.

Did someone say ocado?

Visiting pontiffs

Right.

Yipper yapper, yipper yapper…

I shamelessly purloined the following:

“At the same time, Coalition Minister for Culture, Communications and Creative Industries Ed Vaizey  says in the official explanation of the changes that the Government plans to do no more than is necessary to make only the changes explicitly demanded by the new EU rules, as the Government is committed to improving conditions for business by ‘reducing the regulatory burden in the UK wherever possible,’ and that the Directives won't end up ‘gold plated’ by Westminster.”

Public Technology.Net -  Fri, 17/09/2010 - 11:53

Which, of course, could be read as saying “come on business we’re ready to party now,”; or could be read as “rights? A break! You want to have a lunch break?  Listen laddy, when you’ve clocked up 58 unbroken hours, then you can have a break!” 

Which, with the ever straining glut of unemployed who are squeezed for having the temerity for being unemployed, will probably occur anytime soon.

Not quite sure what, if anything, this has to do with the coalition minister for culture, communications and creative industries (except for not giving tax breaks to the gaming industry and chopping the film board in twain), which doesn't really have anything to do with anything any how.

Vote poor

Less than 220 years ago in these fair isles, of the 8 million (oh if only) populace only 230,000 people had the right to vote, or put another way, less than 3% had any real say in who was going to represent them.

Some would say that under the current duopoly things appear to be trammeling backwards at a spirited pace, to a state where even less real power will be dolloped into the bowls of those with greater need; as everything is instead doled out to huge private firms who only count the bonus’s flying past, in ticker-tape parade majesty.  But at least there are now numerous fronts for the centuries struggles of hard fought p’fdoms to be easily chipped away, whilst the general populace happily remain informed by the nose that “everything’s really being done, for your own good.”

I’m just another armchair swivelling, popcorn popping, poisoned by bus exhaust watcher.  But it really does appear that people  (well as reported by the press at any rate) only need to hear the term terrorist, or pedo, or any other current bogey-man scare word before they run off demanding retribution, or laws be tightened, and thus more intrusions to take place, so they and their off-spring can feel the comforting words of security telling them how secure they now really all are. 

Even though the above is a wide sweeping exaggeration of the whole populace, in truth not enough of us care, or really know what to do apart from putting a mark down once every few years.  After all why bother with all of that, when we can play with the latest ipod/phone/pad/touch/mac – or one of their imitators, which in the eyes of so many is all that really matters.

But, people witter on about the mother of all parliaments etc., when it really has nothing to do with democracy, nor indeed anything what-so-ever to do with fairness covering the whole of the population.

Another reason why councils, organisations still get away with so much, is simply due to laws (usually put in with good cause and spirit) end up neutered by too many clauses allowing a whole set of coaches to career through them.

in the 1800's chartists struggled to redress the distribution of wealth imbalance, 200+ years later the gap is greater than ever, as more and more people are forced to do more than one job, or spend more time working despite the fact that the means of production has exponentially increased; but those at the top continually reduce staffing levels so ensuring those saved costs happily find themselves paid out in greater salaries & fuller fatter pensions for those on the top, with a few extra crumbs falling down to the fortunate's below.

It is telling, not only with the last labour government, but the current coalition too, that those who will not be struggling come pension age, or waiting for days to see a doctor or a dentist - if they can find one, or decide whether they can afford that pint of milk, or a brief beer, or take a hit, are the ones who believe that they know what’s best for everyone.  Which strangely equates to those who are the poorest, being savagely hacked at the worst.

Acceptable noise?

When is 93.3dBA noise acceptable in a built up urban environment on the height of a sunny autumnal day?

Apparently, when the metropolitan police decide its embracing the "local younger person" in a show of cuddly bro-mage, but is it really necessary to do so complete with loudspeakers and a pa system that would put many a large festival to shame?

When people mention brixton and gentrification in the same breath, it's usually the parts outside of the triangle.  The parts from the tube station going towards the town hall which appear to have received all of the ‘fication. 

This little bit appears (like the titanic) to be used as nothing more than a convenient dumping ground for the more troubled projects that cause too much noise, as evidenced by the glc forcing through the brixton academy license against resident objections; as evidenced by the council and tfl allowing even more buses to use the stand here - despite complaints from residents regarding the increasing levels of pollution, vibration and sound.  Things they dare not measure, as even a days worth of measuring would show them to be in breach of their mouthed concern for residents.

A brief glimpse of moving sound, and yes the sound is coming from those tents in the background. 

So that you can get a feel for the distances involved, take a quick peek at the following pictures showing distance of residents (boundary in cyan/turquoise/blue) to the nearest venues (bounded in yellow): (a) skateboard park to residents, (b) bmx track in brockwell park to the nearest residents.  Do see whether you can, spot the difference!

Whatever happened to the wonderful bmx track in brockwell park - which seems hardly ever used?   Even if the council turned that particular elephant into a concreted over skateboard park, double the size of the one here, it still wouldn’t impinge on residents as badly as this one does; but, that would mean upsetting the gentle fairer folk who live in that part of town instead of the smelly proles here.

As other residents said, it probably wouldn’t have been that bad, it might have been slightly more acceptable, had they had the decency to undertake a leaflet drop – if upchuck pizza deliveries can manage to pop hundreds of unwanted bundles through residents letter boxes, council/met pol, you can too.

So met pol, way to go getting one section of the community on side and angering others on the other from 10:15am until- well it’s now after 5.30pm – and still going strong!

With each passing day continuing to prove that this really is the lost sector of the twilight zone, why is there never a tornado around when you want one.

‘Er, mit’s in ‘is hole

The problem with hermitising in a hell-hole is that it not only warps your outlook, but it really can cramp your expandability; as you become pre-occupied with the middling mess of minutiae denuded all around. 

Urk

Yes after a brief hiatus (migraine) i am more or less back in circulation.

It’s so much nicer being able to look at a screen whilst your heads not trying to explode.

Burning hot heads

Without a radical mindset change to our way of life: living, social interaction, consumption, just imagine how things will be when the world has a population of 9 billion, or if the population was represented as non-burning double-decker buses, imagine adding another deck making it into a triple-decker; with the extra requirements needed for fuel, materials, an increase in running costs, more paint, sturdier wheels, a conductor to race up and down the stairs (or lift) quelling trouble and so on, but all the while utilising the same amount of raw materials on the triple as used on the decker. 

But in our current non-changed mindset, the sharks, sorry vultures, no speculators circle everything that hints at the whiff of a promise for higher than inflation returns.  Regardless of whether the hunt for those returns leaves swathes of devastation impacting the environment, destroying the habitats of thousands of species and affecting the lives of so many who don’t share the same need for greed or lust for power, or need for a dynasty rivalling the emperors.

With 16 (or so) non-sleep useful hours a day of scrabbling around to ensure they have those essentials like clothes, i(pods/pads*), rent or mortgage, a holiday or two, oh food and work - all taken care of; whilst on the other, those (the vast majority?) who are just scrambling around fast enough to ensure they have at least one meal a day; is it really any wonder why those of us with access slump in front of some sort of screen at the end of a hard days work and watch the endless flow of inane nonsense pouring from it.  Not because we don’t care or aren’t interested (and yes i know that’s been remarkably charitable), but after fighting all day at work - in a job they may or may not enjoy, wasting hours getting there, then back home to look after off-spring or been a carer, or to undertake one of the many hundreds of things we all do on a daily basis, before we call time and relax.  It’s probably not too inconceivable a stretch to understand why most would rather just subsume in to the flow, than consider the needs of a few stupid stranded dolphins up the river duff.  With an avalanche of information and mis-information for people to wade through, is it really any wonder?

What is freedom?  We hear it bandied about like a hat been stuffed with notes before the conclusion of a cock-fight.  It means something.  It’s obviously viewed as precious as millions die fighting for it and just as many are manipulated into fighting to restrict it as their version truly is more free.  Those acts, which when viewed under the guise of waving banners of freedom, oddly transform into oppressive insouciance when experienced elsewhere.

But seriously, if you want to be a burning hot-head, consider being a burning hot-head for the whole planet – we all live on. 

* delete as appropriate

Welcome to the 22rd century a re-run of the 12th?

Might have to get a very large popcorn bucket, along with my hat for this one.

A civilised species that’s so fragile we demand people don't even think of poking fun at anything we believe in else our (some of the populaces’) foaming incoherent rage immediately explodes following any knee-jerk baiting, showing they’re as bad as us who are just as bad as them – whoever ‘them’ happens to be at any particular moment or time or space.

Easily provoked into reaction, following a mad rush to prove who has a bigger set.   Watch for who the balls toll, as the brass balls’ll be a clanging!

Goring rise

As the book burning, flag trashing, effigial pimping, masses of the world continue with their centuries same-old same-old; the next generation's proudly packed off - to begin anew - the goring rise of intolerance.

Life in the other place

"I have 10 million people who say my parrot's a bigger, badder, more gentle, loving, peaceful and wise shaggy parrot than your shabby parrot!"

"Oh really! Well I have 10 million and one people, who say otherwise; and will fight you to the death to prove to it!"

Urks?

A time honoured missive of dubious proportions.

Slash or burn

Upon hearing a leading politician talk about people treating being unemployed as a 'lifestyle choice', i hope that i'm not the only one who raised his eyes, and released a very slow controlled exhalation of air, and imagining it disappearing into the outer reaches of the vacuum of space before turning ones thoughts back to taking our new chancellor by the head and have him closely acquainted with a nearby batwing table; in the hope some sense seeps from it.

So he thinks that people would prefer to stay on benefits than have a job that pays them a living wage, that enables them to eat good nutritious food, that would allow them to enjoy the odd holiday or "treat", that would allow them to do more than just pop down to a dole office once a fortnight to receive a pittance that would make most people wonder whether that's enough to buy tiddles food let alone more than a couple of days fine food for themselves. 

Remember, the odd few that hit the headlines hides the many hundreds of thousands who manage within their means, who play by the rules and who take umbrage at this governments blinkered charge hoeing everything unemployed into the 'wasted chaff' bin.

What they should do is allow people to properly train, to gain and add new skills, even to allow them into education to gain those oh so necessary papers for the 7am to 8pm burger flipping shift. 

To once more enable a nation of shopkeepers* to vigorously thrive by utilising truly transformative innovations from whichever arena of life they happen to hail from.

Hope? Hardly. 

Not until someone in this government displays more vision than the screaming next victim in a slasher movie can they then truly say they not only have the best interest of the majority of the populace at heart, but they really do have a plan that involves more than just slash or burn.

*the term shopkeer is generic in its use.

Deep-deep-deep bass!

I had apparently missed a doozy of an evening, emanating from the innards of the entertainment venue - on top of the additional buses whose drivers have obviously never come in contact with the highway code, nor an off-switch.

Yes, the air was thick with extra-deep, deep-deep, deep-deep, deep deep bass.  The worst ever!  I'm glad i wasn't there, but instead experiencing the enjoyment of having someone else cook a veritable enjoyable and delightfully filling dinner: herby rice with chicken & mushrooms, with an exquisite helping of shredded carrot tossed in lemon vinaigrette, and followed by just the right size dessert to have me sitting gassing (from the right end), for many a while afterwards.  No red eyes from the relentless bus fumes (the penalty of living so close to the gutter), no pounding inner cranial matter courtesy of the holes from the venue next door.  

But that all came to light after listening to messages awaiting my return.  Messages indicating the new scale (or is that gauntlet) that has being climbed (thrown down) by those concerned with the running of the venue - yes o², shame on you too.   After all, what hope for lowly residents against the combined mighty conviviality of so many - with election year a dim dot on the horizon?

 

Viva la-anything?

Ah the french. You have to love them for their good food, fine wines, flair for disdain, and generally snooking two-fingers to authority that we (the down-trodden and oppressed) in the uk look on, admire and applaud, or would do if we had any sense.

Especially when it comes to defending their rights.  What a difference a revolution makes. 

Although looking at the usa, we could be forgiven for not being able to put our finger on the precise moment their happy days started to derail.

Unnatural polyesters

The next time someone witters on about how unnatural something is, first take them through this starting checklist:

1. Are you now, or have you ever had any tablets, injections or powders for a medical emergency – outside of naturally occurring ones i.e., licking the back of a hallucinogenic toad or happy 'rooms?
   
2. Have you ever had any medical procedure which involved anything more than the use of a saw-tooth bone and dried pummelled plant fibre for thread to sow you back up?
   
3. Have you ever used a bus, car, bicycle, aeroplane, tank, tanker, submarine?
   
4. Have you ever used concrete, upvc, pvc, ipa, lycra, polyester, crack?
   
5. Do you live in anything other than a wigwam, mud hut, igloo, a true grass hut (hay doesn’t count) made purely from naturally grown and locally produced materials?

If they answer ‘yes’ to all of those starter questions, then you can rest assured their utterances regarding all things unnatural can be viewed with more than the normal healthy hint of scepticism.  If they are, however, communicating via anything other than: carrier pigeon, quill, parchment or face-to-face non-technological interfacial means, tell them where to get off as you take their laptop and chase them off your land, beating them over the head with it as you do.

Treats

I am one of millions who collects (as per normal retail visits) coupons or vouchers, but especially loyalty points on my shopping, because all those 0.00001p’s that would otherwise be pooled and creamed off by the companies - at a rate they have already costed into their profits - regardless of whether people use the schemes or not - all those points over time (five years for an average shopper) add up to buy that special meal for one, at christmas!

I have, however, of late become rather aghast (too ebenezerish?) at nectar and their wee-twee-all-so-cutesy use of the word "treat" that drips from overuse on their website.  As if we were all a tail, wagging with gusto at the latest crumb hurtling from on high.  So much so, that whenever I pop onto the website and my eyes are assaulted by those never-ending permutating "treats" you can spend your treaty points on, an imminent need to assume the bone-jarring wobbly knee porcelain hugging position, briefly takes over forcing me to flee the page. 

Perhaps I am becoming even more cynical than I thought (despite taking into consideration the visual appeal of imagining the crumpled remains of a boy-racer who whizzes by into the air as he becomes permanently detached from his bike, just as he goes hurtling past the stationary and quiet burnt out remains of a bus), whilst the idea of either a stone shack, igloo or wicker-basket in the middle of nowhere, continues to grow unabated.

But it doesn’t even end there! 

I pop onto yet another (once favourite) website - a supposed technical get your hands grubby with thermal grease - website, only to see that it too has succumbed to the tide!

“You’ll be getting a visual treat ... because it comes with a bright 15.6” screen and Intel GMA graphics” - yes morgan computers, this is you.

At some stage the continual compromise reaches the point where you feel like a sliver of a shadow of shadows gone befor- right!

Damnable boy-racer’s; never a pc, sps or traffic monitoring station around when you want one…  Where’s my bazooka!?…

Naturally, refusing a ride on a vmax would be the height of stubborn churlishness.  Cough.

Surviving an asteroid strike?

Surely, and I could be wrong here, but if a moderately sized asteroid haphazardly punches a hole slap bang in-between, let's say paternoster square & paternoster row in london, then no matter how much invested in anything, will actually do anything but momentarily (micro or nano second-ish) slow your transformation from relatively dense combined atoms into their bright & vaporised disparate counterparts.  

Rest easy, as the same sort of thing would already have happened a few micro or nano-seconds earlier, to those unfortunate enough to be within the strike zone of any incoming hurtling heavenly body - so why worry?  

For those in London and the south east, deciding where to go if our fair, gentle, slopping sectioned part of the country were unfortunate enough to be in imminent danger of being wiped off the map (by a 200m asteroid), would have to consider making plans to journey at least 100 miles away and somewhere in a ditch, before coming close to having  a 51% chance of survival; with the added hardship of many degree burns, loss of mobile signals and nothing handy in the nearest tesco metro.  

The choice, therefore, is simple: voluntarily head to coventry, or be wiped off the face of the planet, or spending thousands or millions, and briefly cocking two-fingers at every one else and laughing as they're being vaporised, before you to end up in the smoke cloud.

Coventry, wiped off the map, disapprobation?  Coventry...

Little clips

Having re-discovered (worked out how to use scribefire), i'm finding my tendency to utter has taken on a new leash.  

So mind the mistakes, as they'll more reflect a piece i've heatedly glanced through, missed most major points of and come to a conclusion devoid of the time honoured necessity of 'allowing to ripen', before regurgitating a couched nuanced and off-field, far far off-field, riposte!

Drawing near

With the passing of the 5th of September and only three and a bit months to go before another festive period of "thank the stars, finally some quiet," to look forward to, thoughts of partying and madcap revelry knock-up against the void, waiting to make their appearance. 

Fowl and gushing, what a way to go!

Streamlining

The problem with keeping records, is records really aren't meant to be kept - if you're a large organisation in charge of thousands of buses and hundreds of bus stands or terminus's that is.  

Indeed - as someone said to me "don't you think it odd that they don't know or say they don't know, how many complaints each stand or terminus actually receives?"

"Odd," I replied. "Hardly.  We are, after all, viewed as the twilight section of the community!  Now, if they were really interested they would have started off by managing to spell your name correctly!"

Balance

As the saying goes, "strike hard, strike fast, and keep them off balance."

Replacing bus drivers?

 

Hurray, by 2030 bus drivers will be replaced by robots, oh happy day - can't it be tomorrow?

Of course, such happy joy would soon be eclipsed when some coronal mass ejection screws with the magnetic field, or a bored hacker mangles their programming, sending them into a murderous frenzy: running buses, into each other, or into bridges, or turning them into rude, obnoxious high on crack dangers to passengers, or even making them incapable of switching off their engines whilst stationary at bus terminus's/stands-... ah right, no change then!

 

So much crap

"You stand accused of communicating false information!"

Happy carnivore

The nicely understated flowers for a plant that would sooner eat you and spit you out than provide a source of wonderment, are finally coming into their own.

In light of that, here are this weeks pics, and i’m hoping that despite feeding it nothing more than the hardest 24-hour aerated tap water, it will not only continue to profusely flower but also go on to produce a number of hardy offspring!

   

Sadly the camera on my sturdy phone’s starting to show it’s age, with colours wandering all over the spectrum – can’t complain; the phone, an elderly K750i, has provided over six years of good and faithful service.

Turgidity report - Q3

Brimming

Oh i’m brimming.

Yes, despite being the grim-reaper for over half a dozen bonsai to date – although cuttings have strangely happily prospered; whether back into bonsai sized pretty lush green dazzling bushery or huge semi-bonsai things that have sensed escape from their confines and are making a dash for it!

Despite the initial ‘plant it and kill it’ syndrome my attempts seemed wantonly to emulate; the mad impulse which refused to dissipate finally had its way, especially when fully-covered strips of genocidal flypapers continuously assaulted my ever waking vision, leading  me wondering how much more environmentally friendly it would be if a growing bit of flora was enjoying all of those annoying mega-multiplying flies.

Step forward sundew and a friend on the 52^nd parallel, who cordially assisted by buying and carting one all the way down to me, in an attempt to nurture and have something semi-exotic survive.

Cut now to two (or maybe even three) months down the line, and not only is the sundew alive it is positively bursting out of the pot and on the cusp of doing something i never thought it would – especially after undergoing the water-boarding treatment of london tap water (water that has been boiled and left to air for 24 hours), it might actually flower – or seed. 

The amount of light reflected from the usually closed blackout curtains, combined with the overabundance of multiplying small flies, seems to have provided it with more than enough nutrients, light and fortitude so helping it to thrive.

I will have to see whether it survives the winter and three months of 13^oC night-time – 15^oC day-time average temperatures.

Stockwell Park estate burn out

As a fire breaks out on the Stockwell Park estate bike   shed, lock up/garage, hardy skateboards bravely struggle on…

 

Football 2010?

Yay, holiday!

Quips

Now that my quip's semi full...

What shall i blunder through next?...

• Mr dimbleby afraid of plymouth...
• Lambeth council condones torture...
• Oil spills...
• The third night..
• Hatred & bile...

"Buses - Noise Issues with 242 Bus, from Hackney

A resident of powerscroft road asked whether the extension of the 308 bus route will effect the workings of the 242 as that bus is already causing lots of noise pollution in the area due to squealing brakes etc. The questioner also asked whether the current model of bus on the 242 route could not replaced with a single decker.

In reply steve said that tfl has taken up the brakes issue with arriva and again agreed to feedback to tfl resident’s concerns re: noise."

That was 2003/4.

Seven years later, you would have thought a capital-wide improvement would have launched, finally put this thing out of its misery. Sadly not.

But how have things improved?

1. Increase frequency of buses utilising terminus's.
2. Increase in driver pay.

How have things worsened for residential victims?

1. Increasing frequency of drivers not switching off their engines whilst stationary (multiplied by many hundreds per day)
2. Increase in frequency of drivers using their horn to say hello, say goodbye.
3. Increase in squealing brakes.
4. Increase in pollution due to (see 1).
5. Increase in vibration (severe, see 1).
6. Increase in drivers two-fingers to anything said by customer services, the bus garage, their operators, rule 124 of the highway code, their training...

... this could go on, but lunch is calling.

Happy what?

Happy days wonderfully lasted for all of 8,100 seconds, approximately.

Oh the cupidity...

...of voltage pictures and 21st century copyright.

How many people out there in the big, bad, brooding, backwater of the interwebs watch a film they may have inadvertently downloaded, or being given a film and then gone:

1. fantastic, will go and see it at the cinema,
2. fantastic, will buy the optical media,
3. will rave about it to friends, then do (1) & (2)
4. glad didn't go to the cinema otherwise i'd be demanding my money back,
5. glad i didn't rent it out, otherwise i'd be demanding my money back.
6. rave about it to friends, that it's like having your eyes injected with the black-death, limbs gnawed off by rats and slowly being immersed into a weak but powerful enough alkaline solution which dissolves all your organic tissue.

If more people did (4)-(6) then maybe those companies and sharks would think twice about trying to gouge as much as they can, whilst stuffing tame lawmakers into their pockets and setting them onto their consumers.

But, think of it as buying a car for £9,000, without driving in it, nor trying it out, nor looking at it from all the angles.  You bought it basically after seeing a 30 second advert and an actor saying how wonderful it was.

Renting a car for one day can cost as little as £25 approximately - from hertz.  Buying that brand new spanking car, that you want let's say about £9,000 giving us a rent to purchase thingy, of roughly a third of one percent.

If we apply that particular percentage to the cost of buying a newly released film (dvd not bluray) at £15 - say, then in a non-gouging world the rental really cost no more than 4.1 pence (if my dodgy maths are correct). 

It might work, if the shark (sorry bank) charges issue were sorted out, it would probably cut piracy down to a pittance, without alienating the very people who may or may not wish to see the wares you have on offer; the probability exists that more people would more than likely be happy to rent even the worst created film, and probably rent films they would never ever have wasted a percentage of their hard earned money over, if it cost 4.1pence, or US$ 0.059122 as at 16:57hrs on the 8th June 2010 say, ever.

Claiming it's decimating an industry that has over the past few years produced more $200mn+ hoovers than ever before, is like a lamb looking at an approaching wolf calmly saying that it 'really is a sheep', whilst tucking into the lambs mothers ribs, it's just slaughtered.

What these companies should realise is they now have an audience really numbering in the millions (as opposed to millions of pirates), all willing but more importantly able (until everything we do is automatically vetted before uploading to the net), to wax or carp lyrical about everything and anything. 

About thyme

A friend firkled me out of my hermit-hole to brave the world outside 18 walls.

I'd forgotten what it was like, seeing how much that part of town (victoria/pimlico) had changed. Saddening to see the arrogance, the absence of empathy, to see subtle yet pervasive fear in an area that had blossomed into glittery brightness after so many years as a desolate wasteland - to become, as my friend sadly intoned, "snooty."

But what, about thyme?

The menu was modicumly expensive, after ten minutes of sitting down, half the downstairs clientèle paid and left - perhaps due to the sudden influx of raff or perhaps nothing more than a happy switch-over of customers, but any fear was dispelled as the waiters and maître d’ were fantastic, smoothly polished in their delivery, execution, and best of all non-rushy - which is always a sublime experience when everything blends without a hitch.

The rosé wine looked lost, nestled as it was forlornly at the bottom of a 330ml glass; which set thoughts scrambling as to whether i'd need to pop into a chippy on the way home or have a bar of something chocolatey to savour the feeling of fullness. Those thoughts were soon forgiven and banished upon the arrival of a shared starter, the tabla iberica comprising of: ham, chorizo, lomo & salchichon, combinations which only bettered my ageing chompers once, as each soft silkily smooth slice, happily complemented the black olive bread, with each bite gently caressing the structures of my tongue, before punting southwards. Next, i plumped for pan fried calves liver served with smoked pancetta and creamed mash, which was surprisingly even more deliciously soft, textured and meltingly tasty; indeed, each bite cried out for its own choral symphony - by far one of the best offerings i've been delighted to consume in many a year - being a hermit does have its impact. My friend inhaled the barbary duck's breast, potato rosti, braised red cabbage and red currant jus, which too rated as excellent, on the mouthwatering melt-scale.

So if you haven't yet experienced, nor worried about taking out a fifth mortgage, then about thyme should be on your visiting schedule. Strangely, well worth it.

Knibbles

lhd4rht - shake that leg.

Happy days?

It has been a while since the area experienced (relative) tranquillity. 

Over the past three days along with less squeaks from buses brakes, no all day practising from br² even the relative quietness of the night time gig allowed me to have windows open a notch, the odd boy racer (perhaps the rest have found a ditch), less bus horns, less screaming neighbours; and despite this possibly coming across as living in a hell hole, it's not, i haven't heard a police helicopter fly over for at least a day or two; but, it has been three perhaps four even (who's keeping score), gorgeous days with lovely blue skies, few circulating planes - well at least no ever-present steam-trails, which forces me to say (with hand on cold lumpen casket of lead) that living here feels, nice-ish.

This light-hearted air of tranquil-joviality has even extended to, only slightly mind, wishing for the odd bus driver who continues to keep their vehicle engines running whilst stationary at the terminus sending out wave upon wave of bone jarring low frequency vibrations, or mildly beeping his or her  (yes i know who they are) bus horn, to end up in a ditch, naturally without passengers onboard.  Unless, that is, the passengers are of the same ilk as the driver; which should be interpreted as a far happier and milder thought, than the 'string them up by the giblets until they're blackened and maggot infested', which periodically try's to prance its way across my vision. 

In the meantime, my drosera capensis is happily growing despite facing stiff competition from highly effective fly papers, chemical infused tap water, and is thriving in its north facing window, catching and partially consuming a fair portion of flies.

Hopefully, it will survive for a few more months, make it through the winter and seed one day; or be divided and strategically placed in other rooms come the spring of 2011/12 once it's matured; by which time i'd have discovered a reliable gardening establishment, so avoiding the nasty reclaimed 'multi-purpose compost' that seemed to have been scrapped from the sludge off a building site and has seemingly progressed on killing or severely crimping everything planted in it.

In the meantime, here's a picture of the carnivorous triffid, doing its best to redress the flying bug population.  Just need it a bigger bus sized...

Of course it's still early, and there are many hours for things to go pear-shaped.  Which reminds, where have i left my quip carrier? ...

One day, we'll wake up

Technology (that bridling beast, laconically thrashing before breaking loose from its  maddened masters maws, and devouring everything planet-side), was supposedly enabling the groundwork for massive improvement in the lives of inhabitants within advancing 21st century nations: increased leisure times, moments for citizens to think and ponder - which it does for those clever enough, lucky enough, hard-working to be successful enough, or inherited enough; however, each year a substantive population are forced into heedless servitude, forced to work harder to produce more, forced to work longer for less: to bolster the artificial economic reality, as they work competing with those elsewhere who have to work longer, for slightly more so they can compete with... whilst those nibbling away at the edges, wonder exactly what to do with those many figure bank balance assets - whilst hundreds of millions around the world starve, or die, from preventable diseases.

Time and major catastrophe permitting, the laconically padding surly beast will cure our ills; but the current road'll ensure those who can't afford it (law of the jungle/the market - take your pick) will fall by the wayside, leaving those who can (first paragraph provisions permitting) working harder each year to pay for it, or briefly bypassing introduced regulatory hurdles stopping the manufacturing of nothing, wrapping it in nothing and promulgating it as first class investments, as another artificial construct means you take home less than you did the year before, and more of what you buy is just that little bit more expensive than the month before, (unless you live in a hyper-inflating construct, then every second's more expensive) until something's tweaked stopping people realising they're playing with loaded dice, suddenly noticing every-thing's really nought, except a pile of doings.

Until that day, happy snoozing. 

Yay,how appropriate this is the 300th iffy post of tripe, just need to flick through those brochures for something nice and new and shi- oh dear, computer says no.

Hey there mr/miss/ms royal-mail person

When did royal mail counters turn into a hybridisation cloning programme between estate agents and used car salesmen?

It has been a while, since i felt the cold dark northerly winds tousling my hair upon entering the cullis’d gates of ‘mail of royal’. Well it would have being had i popped in and had to queue; but there wasn’t a queue, however it did feel oldie-worldly having to fill in an application form and send it through the post. 

So it would have remained and i would have left with a quaint and fuzzy warmness; instead it just had to go and take a running leap over the cliff and plummet into the chasm of the disturbed hope.

Seemingly, we can do everything electronically and online (not long soon before birth and death themselves are conquered); but i remembered a time when you could pop into your post office, simply state that you required a letter recorded or delivered, paid your money and be more or less certain it would be delivered and a signature obtained.

Rose tints? Always, for the good old days.

Yesterday i popped in asked that good old question, to be greeted with a, "it's not secure you know.  If you want to make sure it reaches its destination you should send it special or registered,"

"What?"

"Recorded will just get a signature at the other end, but it might not get there!"

I briefly wondered if this was an opening salvo across the bows, but took the perverse view of ‘meh’, and if it failed to reach the other end, would give me something else to quip over, as my quip carrier’s running low again.

"How much is special delivery?"  I thought it best to enquire.

"£5.50," the royal-mail person came back, quick as a flash.

"Ok. No, i'll stick with recorded," i smiled, flashing a toothy plug grin in return.

The look of disappointment on the royal-mail face was palpable.  But before the upper lip could twitch, a cog on the other side turned. "Do you have savings?"

"Pardon," i asked, wondering when i'd walked into a sales upgrade convention.

"We do safe and secure savings."

And no i didn't enquire as to what was actually meant, not so soon after serious doubt had already been placed on the likelihood of my special, but cheaply sent letter, reaching its final destination; due to potential hijacking, kidnapping or pilfering by one of the royal-mail persons mobile colleagues. 

Instead i bit my tongue, "thanks, but i already have savings. My money’s safely locked away,” – all $2.85c of it.

"Ok,” the royal-mail person disappointedly intoned, “just remember that we're always here."

That i will, and luckily so is another the branch where if you get looked at (let alone grunted to) and come out unscathed, can be viewed as damned good service, and it’s only a nice walk down... ah yes, knife pin alley!

Let’s see now; corporate drone, knife pin alley, corporate drone, knife pin al-

addendum: couple of days later… letter arrived safe and sound and unscathed.

Warmer energy times ahead

Are energy companies turning coquettishly coy and dangling tantalising cuts just around the corner - as they've done so well, and trading market's really are working?

Nothing to do then with the new government announcing a push towards better efficiencies as a way of curbing the rise of energy usage & prices, with a love for all things renewable energy bill, and raising the spectre of closer investigation into the energy co's affair...

I believe there's applause there somewhere, but the avalanching haystack appears to have covered it.

Out with bad old energy, in with good clean stuff!

Knobbles

It started saying, "left hand, right hand, watch those legs!"

BA²

One observational swallow does not indicate a good summer; but it can (where's that hedge trimmer) indicate change!

Last night (saturday) i wondered whether this mythical swallow had made an appearance?  I was actually able to sleep, without being bounced around or woken up; perhaps a sign of the end to the may madness which struck the venue earlier in the month, or simply an indication that things are finally improving and they might have installed sound-proofing or a limiter.

Yes, it's another one of those three-nights-in-a-row, 'hey guys we're open till 4am.  Neighbours?  We see no neighbours? Yippiee, a freebie' events occurring less than a stones throw, skip and a jump away, at the venue.

Before i crashed at 1am saturday morning, there were moments when the sound would cycle through those deep bass pulsating peaks and troughs – just the sort of thing you should be playing in a field hundreds of metres from people who live there and, not 28ft from residents and certainly not until 1am let alone 4am on a morning. 

The music was audible, with beats and individual notes easily distinguishable more than 200ft away.  Even the bits of environmental law i’ve read (that stays floating around chasing after tumbleweeds), indicates that if individual notes can be heard (i just didn’t realise there was a clause saying heard from the moon, which must be the location lambeth’s using to gauge whether they should do anything), then it’s loud – especially if its penetrating through shut double-glazed windows/doors and earplugs at 2,3,4,5,6am in the morning.

So what's it like here? 

Who said hell? … Ah, the escapees!

Here's a quick rundown on living here with a, more or less, out of control nightclub on the one hand, bus drivers who seem to have lost the ability to switch off their engines when stationary for more than 2 minutes at at a time - think 9 tons of bus-rumbling vibrations through all your rooms, then multiply that by 100’s of terminations per day, on the other.  But a rundown would take far too long, so the fun happenings and goings on since 1930s to the present day, will be in a lovely pdf, produced by yours truly and will probably make an appearance at the same time as when the noise-chart’s completed.  

In the meantime, a very quick rundown comprises of: earplugs, earplugs, earplugs, headphones, earplugs, earplugs, headphones playing static noise, and noise-cancelling headphones which sadly don't stop the vibrations, and earplugs.

Even the governments (“we’ve run out of money – ha haha ha”) recent noise maps are inaccurate, as they don’t take into consideration the noise generated at night by the venue.  Which when that is taken into consideration and combined with other measurements and indicators  leave this as one of noisiest and most air polluted areas in london, and that's (pollution measurements especially) official!

To date, despite numerous requests from other residents, the council seem strangely un– but i’ll leave that for another time.

Unlike the 3am trio at the start of the month, this bank holiday 4am triptych started off less noisier, but soon raced up the noise chart, with penetrating deep pulsating, bone vibrating, brain shaking bass low-notes and slightly more annoying, slightly less bass low-notes. 

So, the 2nd night?

I can sum up by saying, BA²!  For those who haven’t already guessed, it’s short for brixton academy's backside. 

Problems? What problems

We see no problems!

PR

Proof? Read?

Quite. The proof of anything is either in the eating, reading, seeing, doing or hearing over a period of tim-.

Oh, proof reading!

Yes, always viewed that as a potty-mouthed swear phrase.

We would like to thank…

At the 2010 awards for most destructive socio-environmental incident, under the category: accidental or not. 

The four nominations are…

1. the almighty for the flood – for causing the extinction of most of what was, apparently.
2. the american military – for generating millions of kilograms of hazardous, toxic and radioactive waste – all around the word.
3. bp – for way outstripping in volume alone and destroying more of the environment than any other spill - accidental or otherwise, in peace time or probably any other time.
4. union carbides bhopal disaster – with an estimated (to this day) death toll of over 15,000 with more people still, apparently, succumbing to the effects.

And the winner is…

BP.

We would first like to thank the us government for giving us this time of grace time in which we’ve stopped… teaspoon or tablespoon boys?  To not really achieve much, and so by the time they do take over, at least we can say we tried. 

We would like to thank the northern shores of the gulf states for letting the oil beach there (snigger), and for giving us this period to potentially ruin their lives and livelihoods (if they depend on anything sea-worthy) for at least a month or two.

We would like to thank both haliburton and transocean for getting us into this wheeze (thanks dick), i’m sure there’s a remittance around somewhere.

We’d like to thank all of you who haven’t yet taken it out on the directors, despite it being obvious to a tapeworm that when it really comes down to it, we really believe in the environment, after all, what’s it there for, if not polluting!

We would, once more, love to applaud the us government for allowing these practises to take place not only in their own backyard, but all around the globe.

And last, but not least, we sincerely like to thank all of you suckers out there taking it up the ass for us, yet again!

We thank you.

What is it with conservatives and children?

First many years ago the blessed margaret cut milk that was given to children attending primary schools, now her milk-tooth offspring cut the child trust fund.

More?  Did you ask for more?

Birthing who?

This is a slightly strong post for me; i presume the strength of my position arrives from been forced, whilst young, to participate in the visitation of the holy church – viewed, as it was by my parents, as necessary for “ensuring salvation of your immortal soul”; which still now leaves - after sloughing off many ideas i still find odd, contradictory and bizarre, simply watching and listening (however frothy), to those who would deny a woman such basic fundamental control over her own body, for the sake of religiosity (yet again) - an unsatisfactory familial ringing note.

Of course i fully agree with all those out there who want to stop women from having abortions. As long as you fully sign up to taking control of the ensuing offspring, financially, emotionally and, if needs be, to also physically bring up those children whom the mother may not be attached to if, for example, she has been raped, or drunk one to many and thought she had seen that non-existent condom, or even just after nine months had a change of heart.

There, that’s my ten shillings done with... Let me just clamber off my box, pack it away, and attach the label: not to be taken out before 2015!

Oh, but before i do. If you were wondering why i said “strong post,” in the opening sentence, and after reading thought, “call that strong?”  The following regurgitation is the subsumed version... “why do all you sanctimonious sons of bitches who crap on about pro-life, kill doctors, blah de blah, apparently can’t, or won’t, in any appreciable number, save the many millions of children who are orphaned, children who are sick, children who have no-one to look after them? How many of you brain-dead cretins rise up in fury at your governments who cosy up to, and practically hero worship at the altar of weapons manufacturers, who produce more weapons of mass destruction that kill more children and babies on an annual basis than any abortion doctor ever has. Actually, how many of you concerned-for-the-jelly lifers, have shaken your fists in fury at the almighty omnipresent narcissist who (if you believe he/she/it is indeed all of everything) allows the natural termination of many more millions of foetuses and babies, than any doctor or even weapons manufacturer come to that, ever has?”

So, there you have it. That was the initial angry blurb i was going to spout, before realising that calling people cretins would leave myself on not only very shaky ground, but probably no ground at all. At least it helped me decide to go with the far more rational second take instead.

Finally, before the box is safely locked away, i would probably turn a blind eye if, as in minority report (can i say minority report without it being taken as copyright infringement?), it could be proven without any shadow of a doubt, or that someone's being set up, that future boy-racer’s - with a propensity to only race around town, cause annoyance and overall general nuisance (unless heading for olympic glory) would be first for the flushing, swiftly followed by those who continually whine - life’s just too short.