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.

BA Strike

Are you bleating about ba workers going on strike?

Think of it like this.

The first ruling: you turn up five minutes late to work and due to that misdemeanour have your entire days pay stopped by a junior manager.

The second ruling: a senior manager tells the junior manager to "stop being such an ass," and reinstates your whole days pay.

Naturally all of this is from my non-reading of any actual court documents or hearing anything more tasty than a sound bite, assessment.  Which could be so far removed from what's actually gone on, as to render this particular utterance worse than that last bit of frayed toilet paper i had to struggle with, just after the long-life bathroom light decided to blow.