onionbagblog
Brrrrr...
Nah, it's not all as negative as that. There's currently behind the scenes discussions to see if the lido can remain open one day a week fornutters cold water swimming enthusiasts, such as myself. There's also talk of a Brockwell Triathlon Club being set up.
How does that work?
'Mmm, don't fancy a run today. Or a bike ride. Hey - I know what - let's go for a swim today, tomorrow and everyday instead.'
And so as is tradition, I feel duty bound to deliver that tried and tested Michael Eavis statement of:
'Best year yet!'
Well, not quite. The golden period of Paddy & Casey during the mid '90s still holds fond memories for most, probably a combination of the sun and the poolside parties of the time.
There has been no South London summer of such to talk about this season. But this has been my first summer down in SE24 where I have treated the lido seriously as a training pool, rather than something I simply use for leisure. Plus the end of September is the latest we have ever had to endure / enjoy.
I even took part in a lido podcast this year, as well as losing all sense of dignity by accompanying forty of the finest from Year 4 for a morning swim. I'm all for encouraging kids to discover lido life. My patience was severely tested though on Sunday afternoon, when as part of an art installation piece, I was pelted with plastic bottles containing 'lido dreams' (yeah, right...) ten lengths into a swim.
I make it five lost lido days in total since that particularly icy plunge back in mid May; three of these were as a result of a rare holiday (why do I need to 'holiday' when I have the lovely lido right on my doorstep?) One day was lost when some knobbers threw some glass bottles over the lido wall (definitely not part of an art installation piece.) My other lido-less day was due to work commitments (although I did get to swim indoors at Clap'ham, and subsequently spent the rest of the week telling everyone how crap it was.)
I think I'm ready for a lido break to be honest. The water has been so cold of late that I've started to see things around the pool that logic tells you simply aren't there. It's your body's way of telling you that a blackout is close. Time to leave the water. Or at least put on a wetsuit, which I will do if the Tri club ever takes off.
Still, we leave SE24 on something of a high with a glorious Indian summer of late. The final ritual in the lido summer is the BLU AGM later in the month. Sadly I am unable to attend, something to do with waking up with a hangover following a beer festival some two hundred miles away.
Here's my AGM observations that I would have put forward anyway:
The toilets: not great. Not just a management issue, but also a user issue. It's piss poor when people are happy to leave puddles all over the place.
Please turn off Crappy FM in the changing rooms. I come to the lido early in the morning to lose myself and indulge in some solace. I don't want some shitty local radio bollocks blaring out as I shampoo my short and curlies.
Speaking of knobbers, please can Lambeth Council address the farce of me having to pay twice to swim in their pools over the summer months? I pay GLL, the 'preferred leisure partner,' for an annual season ticket for Brixton Rec and Clap'ham. I then have to buy a separate season ticket for Fusion, the 'preferred leisure partner' (and actually quite decent people) to swim in the lido for five months of the year. The infrastructure for all three pools is owned by Lambeth Council, so why not one season ticket? A cancellation during out of season swimming would just penalise me with joining fees etc being added on. Plain nonsense.
So long, lovely lido. Here's hoping the dark days of the winter can be interrupted with an icy plunge.
technorati: brockwell lido
| Tuesday 30 September, 2008 |
Nah, it's not all as negative as that. There's currently behind the scenes discussions to see if the lido can remain open one day a week for
How does that work?
'Mmm, don't fancy a run today. Or a bike ride. Hey - I know what - let's go for a swim today, tomorrow and everyday instead.'
And so as is tradition, I feel duty bound to deliver that tried and tested Michael Eavis statement of:
'Best year yet!'
Well, not quite. The golden period of Paddy & Casey during the mid '90s still holds fond memories for most, probably a combination of the sun and the poolside parties of the time.
There has been no South London summer of such to talk about this season. But this has been my first summer down in SE24 where I have treated the lido seriously as a training pool, rather than something I simply use for leisure. Plus the end of September is the latest we have ever had to endure / enjoy.
I even took part in a lido podcast this year, as well as losing all sense of dignity by accompanying forty of the finest from Year 4 for a morning swim. I'm all for encouraging kids to discover lido life. My patience was severely tested though on Sunday afternoon, when as part of an art installation piece, I was pelted with plastic bottles containing 'lido dreams' (yeah, right...) ten lengths into a swim.
I make it five lost lido days in total since that particularly icy plunge back in mid May; three of these were as a result of a rare holiday (why do I need to 'holiday' when I have the lovely lido right on my doorstep?) One day was lost when some knobbers threw some glass bottles over the lido wall (definitely not part of an art installation piece.) My other lido-less day was due to work commitments (although I did get to swim indoors at Clap'ham, and subsequently spent the rest of the week telling everyone how crap it was.)
I think I'm ready for a lido break to be honest. The water has been so cold of late that I've started to see things around the pool that logic tells you simply aren't there. It's your body's way of telling you that a blackout is close. Time to leave the water. Or at least put on a wetsuit, which I will do if the Tri club ever takes off.
Still, we leave SE24 on something of a high with a glorious Indian summer of late. The final ritual in the lido summer is the BLU AGM later in the month. Sadly I am unable to attend, something to do with waking up with a hangover following a beer festival some two hundred miles away.
Here's my AGM observations that I would have put forward anyway:
The toilets: not great. Not just a management issue, but also a user issue. It's piss poor when people are happy to leave puddles all over the place.
Please turn off Crappy FM in the changing rooms. I come to the lido early in the morning to lose myself and indulge in some solace. I don't want some shitty local radio bollocks blaring out as I shampoo my short and curlies.
Speaking of knobbers, please can Lambeth Council address the farce of me having to pay twice to swim in their pools over the summer months? I pay GLL, the 'preferred leisure partner,' for an annual season ticket for Brixton Rec and Clap'ham. I then have to buy a separate season ticket for Fusion, the 'preferred leisure partner' (and actually quite decent people) to swim in the lido for five months of the year. The infrastructure for all three pools is owned by Lambeth Council, so why not one season ticket? A cancellation during out of season swimming would just penalise me with joining fees etc being added on. Plain nonsense.
So long, lovely lido. Here's hoping the dark days of the winter can be interrupted with an icy plunge.
technorati: brockwell lido
| #permalink |
Spin
Has Surrey Head Coach Alan Butcher been sacked? I only ask because the official Surrey website appears to offer no comment, whereas all other forms of media suggest that it's P45 time around The Oval.
It's never nice to speculate if someone has lost his or her economic earning power. Alan Butcher is a great bloke, just simply not up for the job of coaching a first class County team.
Relegation from the Division One of the County Championship, and a dismal showing across all other competitions - Butch Snr has been on a sticky wicket in SE11 all summer, especially since Chairman of Cricket Roger Harman wrote to all Surrey members last month stating:
'I believe our performances so far this season are not acceptable.'
I had to place a scented hankie over my nose when I read the Saintly Mr Ramps [15,000+ views!] inadvertently breaking the news of Butcher'ssacking wall of silence in his Daily Telegraph column.
Whoops, Mr Ramps. In a season where your sense of timing has struggled, looks like you've seen it through with letting the Butcher sacking story out of the bag.
The issue here is the shocking, erm, spin presented by the propaganda machine that is the Surrey website. Today's top story tells us all about:
'Surrey Stars at Foxhills for Golf
The cream of Surrey cricketing talent recently took to a different form of ball game as they turned out at the Club’s Sponsors’ Golf Day, held at the Foxhills Resort deep in the rolling Surrey countryside.'
Blah blah blah bollocks.
No mention of Butcher's status at the club, although I think it's safe to say that he wasn't teeing off on the opening hole at Foxhills.
Indeed a search on the Surrey site for Alan Butcher give you news of:
'Alan Butcher is appointed new head coach
21/09/05
Surrey County Cricket Club has appointed Alan Butcher County Coach...'
Wide!
Meanwhile, a similar search with Mr Google gives you:
Butcher shown the door after season of woe at Surrey, [The Graun]
Butcher out as Surrey wield the axe [This is London] and
Butcher sacked as Surrey coach following winless relegation season [Daily Mail.]
Whoops.
Seems that Surrey have indeed sacked Butcher, and are simply waiting to announce news of his replacement. Meanwhile down on the 18th green...
Such a sense of denial sums up Surrey's woeful season. Nope, not going down, not us, Where the Ashes was won, etc (tickets on sale later this month for Surrey members, perhaps the only benefit of signing up for next season.)
With a news hungry sporting media sniffing around the most central cricket ground in the capital, keeping quiet such a major announcement is going to simply lead to speculation. Can you imagine a London Premier League team sacking their manager, and then sitting on the announcement for a couple of weeks?
Money has been pumped into the Surrey website in recent years: ball-by-ball commentary, and even a Surrey TV package showing highlights each day at the close of play.
But don’t mention Butch. He’s the *cough* Elephant in the Room at The Oval. Looks like he's packed his trunk already.
technorati: alan butcher
| Monday 29 September, 2008 |
Has Surrey Head Coach Alan Butcher been sacked? I only ask because the official Surrey website appears to offer no comment, whereas all other forms of media suggest that it's P45 time around The Oval.
It's never nice to speculate if someone has lost his or her economic earning power. Alan Butcher is a great bloke, just simply not up for the job of coaching a first class County team.
Relegation from the Division One of the County Championship, and a dismal showing across all other competitions - Butch Snr has been on a sticky wicket in SE11 all summer, especially since Chairman of Cricket Roger Harman wrote to all Surrey members last month stating:
'I believe our performances so far this season are not acceptable.'
I had to place a scented hankie over my nose when I read the Saintly Mr Ramps [15,000+ views!] inadvertently breaking the news of Butcher's
Whoops, Mr Ramps. In a season where your sense of timing has struggled, looks like you've seen it through with letting the Butcher sacking story out of the bag.
The issue here is the shocking, erm, spin presented by the propaganda machine that is the Surrey website. Today's top story tells us all about:
'Surrey Stars at Foxhills for Golf
The cream of Surrey cricketing talent recently took to a different form of ball game as they turned out at the Club’s Sponsors’ Golf Day, held at the Foxhills Resort deep in the rolling Surrey countryside.'
Blah blah blah bollocks.
No mention of Butcher's status at the club, although I think it's safe to say that he wasn't teeing off on the opening hole at Foxhills.
Indeed a search on the Surrey site for Alan Butcher give you news of:
'Alan Butcher is appointed new head coach
21/09/05
Surrey County Cricket Club has appointed Alan Butcher County Coach...'
Wide!
Meanwhile, a similar search with Mr Google gives you:
Butcher shown the door after season of woe at Surrey, [The Graun]
Butcher out as Surrey wield the axe [This is London] and
Butcher sacked as Surrey coach following winless relegation season [Daily Mail.]
Whoops.
Seems that Surrey have indeed sacked Butcher, and are simply waiting to announce news of his replacement. Meanwhile down on the 18th green...
Such a sense of denial sums up Surrey's woeful season. Nope, not going down, not us, Where the Ashes was won, etc (tickets on sale later this month for Surrey members, perhaps the only benefit of signing up for next season.)
With a news hungry sporting media sniffing around the most central cricket ground in the capital, keeping quiet such a major announcement is going to simply lead to speculation. Can you imagine a London Premier League team sacking their manager, and then sitting on the announcement for a couple of weeks?
Money has been pumped into the Surrey website in recent years: ball-by-ball commentary, and even a Surrey TV package showing highlights each day at the close of play.
But don’t mention Butch. He’s the *cough* Elephant in the Room at The Oval. Looks like he's packed his trunk already.
technorati: alan butcher
| #permalink |
Blue Monday
'Pocket a whopping 7.32% AER,' they said, 'simply by transferring an existing cash ISA over to our coffers.'
7.32% - sounds tempting.
'Simply download and print off an ISA transfer form,' they told me, 'then hand it in at your nearest branch.'
Blimey. Money for Nothing etc. I'm no banker in the literal sense, but 7.32% sounds a lot better than my current lowest ISA rate of 6.2% (although the keen eyed among you may have already worked out that the 0.02% added on towards the end is the same as the age old trick of £3.99 for an album, back in the day. Bargain!)
Form downloaded, printed off, and filled in. Hmpf - they didn't say there would be five sheets to fill in, mostly consisting of me having to read the small print to opt out of the knobber marketing nonsense that would have piled up on my doormat if I hadn't been so diligent.
Still, all I need to do now to ramp up my ISA rate to a super soar away 7.32%, is to simply hand the form in at my local branch. Sorted.
Fifteen minutes of queuing. Mmm - time is money, and I reckon I could have trousered that 0.02% in the time I have wasted here to simply hand in a form.
'I'm sorry Sir, I'm only the cashier. You'll need to speak to speak to one of our advisers to open up an ISA.'
'But I'm only transferring, blah blah blah bollocks...'
'The queue for the adviser is over there, Sir.'
Cue another queue. With such a laid back approach to banking, anyone would think the financial market is taking a holiday right now.
A further fifteen minutes, and finally I'm ushered into the hallowed hall of an ISA Open Upp-er. Why I couldn't do this all online is beyond me.
Ah, but wait - here comes the modern interweb small print.
'Sir, as your current ISA is with an online bank, you'll have to open up your new ISA with us, online, and then put in a request with your existing ISA account to have your balance transferred over to your new ISA. It's really simple when you do it online.'
Not nearly as simple as 'downloading and printing off an ISA transfer form and handing it in at your nearest branch.'
'OK, then I will get the 7.32% AER automatically?' I enquired.
'Are you intending to transfer over an amount in excess of £27,000?'
Given that I have already lost over an hour of my earning potential by wasting my time talking to bankers, this figure is fanciable.
'Um, no, more like £4,000.'
'Oh, then Sir will be able to get our 6.5% AER interest.'
Which just happens to be a whopping 0.3% higher than the existing ISA I was hoping to transfer out of when this whole process started sometime last week.
And so I'm sticking with my existing ISA, and shredding the form that I downloaded, printed off, and took into my nearest branch for a smooth transition.
If banks won't take my money off me as we approach economic meltdown, then quite frankly we're all fucked. Greed of the market, etc, greed of the contemporary urban anarchist who went shopping around for an extra 0.3% AER interest.
It's back to sleeping with the banknotes under my pillow for me.
Bankers.
technorati: natwest, useless tossers
| Monday 29 September, 2008 |
'Pocket a whopping 7.32% AER,' they said, 'simply by transferring an existing cash ISA over to our coffers.'
7.32% - sounds tempting.
'Simply download and print off an ISA transfer form,' they told me, 'then hand it in at your nearest branch.'
Blimey. Money for Nothing etc. I'm no banker in the literal sense, but 7.32% sounds a lot better than my current lowest ISA rate of 6.2% (although the keen eyed among you may have already worked out that the 0.02% added on towards the end is the same as the age old trick of £3.99 for an album, back in the day. Bargain!)
Form downloaded, printed off, and filled in. Hmpf - they didn't say there would be five sheets to fill in, mostly consisting of me having to read the small print to opt out of the knobber marketing nonsense that would have piled up on my doormat if I hadn't been so diligent.
Still, all I need to do now to ramp up my ISA rate to a super soar away 7.32%, is to simply hand the form in at my local branch. Sorted.
Fifteen minutes of queuing. Mmm - time is money, and I reckon I could have trousered that 0.02% in the time I have wasted here to simply hand in a form.
'I'm sorry Sir, I'm only the cashier. You'll need to speak to speak to one of our advisers to open up an ISA.'
'But I'm only transferring, blah blah blah bollocks...'
'The queue for the adviser is over there, Sir.'
Cue another queue. With such a laid back approach to banking, anyone would think the financial market is taking a holiday right now.
A further fifteen minutes, and finally I'm ushered into the hallowed hall of an ISA Open Upp-er. Why I couldn't do this all online is beyond me.
Ah, but wait - here comes the modern interweb small print.
'Sir, as your current ISA is with an online bank, you'll have to open up your new ISA with us, online, and then put in a request with your existing ISA account to have your balance transferred over to your new ISA. It's really simple when you do it online.'
Not nearly as simple as 'downloading and printing off an ISA transfer form and handing it in at your nearest branch.'
'OK, then I will get the 7.32% AER automatically?' I enquired.
'Are you intending to transfer over an amount in excess of £27,000?'
Given that I have already lost over an hour of my earning potential by wasting my time talking to bankers, this figure is fanciable.
'Um, no, more like £4,000.'
'Oh, then Sir will be able to get our 6.5% AER interest.'
Which just happens to be a whopping 0.3% higher than the existing ISA I was hoping to transfer out of when this whole process started sometime last week.
And so I'm sticking with my existing ISA, and shredding the form that I downloaded, printed off, and took into my nearest branch for a smooth transition.
If banks won't take my money off me as we approach economic meltdown, then quite frankly we're all fucked. Greed of the market, etc, greed of the contemporary urban anarchist who went shopping around for an extra 0.3% AER interest.
It's back to sleeping with the banknotes under my pillow for me.
Bankers.
technorati: natwest, useless tossers
| #permalink |
Dilly Dilly
Gotta love the lavenders.
Not only have I got an acute sense of smell, but it appears an acute sense of timing as well. The bedding plants of the summer have been put to bed; Slung in a green garden waste disposal bag and dumped on the estate across the road would be a better description. Late September / early October is apparently the best time to plant your lavenders.
Guess who had green fingers over the weekend?
The fragrant (although definitely not antispasmodic) mrs onionbagblogger and I spent a pleasant early Saturday evening in the urban courtyard. We harvested two buckets of compost from the wormey (looking not unlike what I manage to harvest the morning after five pints of Guinness,) and then lovingly arranged the lavender around the compost (definitely antispasmodic.)
It's not exactly all come up smelling of roses, but my anxiety levels have altered, what with all the aromatheraputic levels in the air. It was quite a stressful Saturday evening as we battled against a disappearing sun. Make hay while the sun shines and all that, but it takes something with more than an aromatic appeal to drag me away from the Indian summer at the lovely lido.
Lavenders all potted, and we celebrated with a bottle of the finest from Miguel Angel Muro, and a bit of Marillion. High culture meets low culture, all brought together with some lavender love.
technorati: lavender blue, dilly dilly
| Sunday 28 September, 2008 |
Gotta love the lavenders.
Not only have I got an acute sense of smell, but it appears an acute sense of timing as well. The bedding plants of the summer have been put to bed; Slung in a green garden waste disposal bag and dumped on the estate across the road would be a better description. Late September / early October is apparently the best time to plant your lavenders.
Guess who had green fingers over the weekend?
The fragrant (although definitely not antispasmodic) mrs onionbagblogger and I spent a pleasant early Saturday evening in the urban courtyard. We harvested two buckets of compost from the wormey (looking not unlike what I manage to harvest the morning after five pints of Guinness,) and then lovingly arranged the lavender around the compost (definitely antispasmodic.)
It's not exactly all come up smelling of roses, but my anxiety levels have altered, what with all the aromatheraputic levels in the air. It was quite a stressful Saturday evening as we battled against a disappearing sun. Make hay while the sun shines and all that, but it takes something with more than an aromatic appeal to drag me away from the Indian summer at the lovely lido.
Lavenders all potted, and we celebrated with a bottle of the finest from Miguel Angel Muro, and a bit of Marillion. High culture meets low culture, all brought together with some lavender love.
technorati: lavender blue, dilly dilly
| #permalink |
Saintly
Fitting that this rather exclusive square comes across as being soulless. I had the misfortune to work here for just over a year; I may have been in employment, but it was certainly far from gainful, working for one of the major labels.
Funky West End offices, the buzz of the music business and a steady supply of freedruQs drink to get you through the tedium of the working day. All that was missing was the sex (although the rock 'n roll was pretty shit, come to think of it.)
Eight years later and my return to St James' showed that little had changed. Tedium had replaced the clock watching, and a boarded up sign at No. 8 meant that Mr Corporate Label has more or less been lost to the wonders of the modern interweb.
I like to think I played my part, introducing my fellow Sex, druQs and Rock 'n Rollers to Audiogalaxy. Strategic work meetings to discuss a corporate plan for online music delivery, swiftly followed by heading straight back to the laptop to raid the best P2P of the time.
No.8 never really did get the modern interweb.
The joyless job ended in redundancy, a fat pay off and a free laptop. I've not touched a single CD (or druQ) since.
technorati: st james square
| Thursday 25 September, 2008 |
Fitting that this rather exclusive square comes across as being soulless. I had the misfortune to work here for just over a year; I may have been in employment, but it was certainly far from gainful, working for one of the major labels.
Funky West End offices, the buzz of the music business and a steady supply of free
Eight years later and my return to St James' showed that little had changed. Tedium had replaced the clock watching, and a boarded up sign at No. 8 meant that Mr Corporate Label has more or less been lost to the wonders of the modern interweb.
I like to think I played my part, introducing my fellow Sex, druQs and Rock 'n Rollers to Audiogalaxy. Strategic work meetings to discuss a corporate plan for online music delivery, swiftly followed by heading straight back to the laptop to raid the best P2P of the time.
No.8 never really did get the modern interweb.
The joyless job ended in redundancy, a fat pay off and a free laptop. I've not touched a single CD (or druQ) since.
technorati: st james square
| #permalink |
Local History Week
Meanwhile I was making the most of the South London Indian summer, sunning myself at the lovely lido. You can’t accuse me of not being consistent in my quest to become the Crap Journo of SW8.
No worries – I hear a top local freelance photographer type has been hired for the official unveiling of Mss Bronze.
Here's the blurb:
Bronze Woman by Aleix Barbat
The Bronze Woman Monument Project seeks to place a permanent ten-foot bronze statue of a woman holding a child aloft to recognise the contribution and service made by Caribbean women throughout the ages. The child held aloft is a symbol of her strength and her aspirations for the new generation.
The Monument will be placed in Stockwell Memorial Garden and aims to promote cultural experience exchange and learning. This will be enhanced through an educational programme aimed at the local community and surrounding schools, which seeks to promote Caribbean culture, history and achievements, and raise awareness, understanding and learning.
Meanwhile, down the Clap'ham Road and a totally different perspective on Stockwell's past is under scrutiny. The Memorial Gardens remembered Mr de Menezes, briefly, before the Lambeth knobbers decided to whitewash history.
Here's hoping the current memorial outside Costcutter can soon be replaced with something more permanent and poignant.
technorati: stockwell bronze woman, jean charles de menezes
| Tuesday 23 September, 2008 |
Meanwhile I was making the most of the South London Indian summer, sunning myself at the lovely lido. You can’t accuse me of not being consistent in my quest to become the Crap Journo of SW8.
No worries – I hear a top local freelance photographer type has been hired for the official unveiling of Mss Bronze.
Here's the blurb:
Bronze Woman by Aleix Barbat
The Bronze Woman Monument Project seeks to place a permanent ten-foot bronze statue of a woman holding a child aloft to recognise the contribution and service made by Caribbean women throughout the ages. The child held aloft is a symbol of her strength and her aspirations for the new generation.
The Monument will be placed in Stockwell Memorial Garden and aims to promote cultural experience exchange and learning. This will be enhanced through an educational programme aimed at the local community and surrounding schools, which seeks to promote Caribbean culture, history and achievements, and raise awareness, understanding and learning.
Meanwhile, down the Clap'ham Road and a totally different perspective on Stockwell's past is under scrutiny. The Memorial Gardens remembered Mr de Menezes, briefly, before the Lambeth knobbers decided to whitewash history.
Here's hoping the current memorial outside Costcutter can soon be replaced with something more permanent and poignant.
technorati: stockwell bronze woman, jean charles de menezes
| #permalink |
Sunny Side Up
bonkers wonderful Stockwell Festival returned to its spiritual SW8 home of Larkhall Park on Saturday afternoon. The jewel in the crown of Sunny Stockwell has taken a couple of years off from hosting the Festival; European grants to improve Stockwell's hidden gem take some time for the seeds to be sewn.
But cometh the Stockwell Festival, cometh the sun over SW8. We never doubted it - honest.
The eighth Stockwell Festival made me feel proud to be part of an ever-changing community. Put aside (but never forget) the headlines trying to put down my little patch of South London; witness instead a diverse collection of people form all around the world, living together and trying to get on in good 'ol sunny Stockwell.
The signs were good when I arrived at Larkhall fashionably late. The sound of the Everly Brothers coming out of a steel drum band made perfect sense. I missed the parade; too busy pedalling around the velodrome and making something of a spectacle myself.
But you can't go wrong with a park full of motorised pineapples. It's a Stockwell thing - nope it really is a Stockwell thing, what with Mr Tradescant, a native of these parts, importing the first pineapples to this country some four hundred years ago.
Tradescant and son are the history of Sunny Stockwell. The family connection was kept, with future Stockwell being very much a family friendly festival. Yeah, it was all for the kids, but then wouldn't you want to spend your Saturday afternoon dancing to a Columbian / Afro-pop mash up, rather than the supermarket run?
Elsewhere around Larkhall and a sneak preview of the Stockwell Bronze Woman statue was on show. More of the new cultural highlight in the Memorial Garden to come...
But for now, renewing my love of Stockwell around Larkhall on Saturday was a fine way to end the summer. Welcome home Sunny Stockwell Festival. Time to start smiling once again.
Full Flickr stream over HERE.
technorati: stockwell festival
| Monday 22 September, 2008 |
But cometh the Stockwell Festival, cometh the sun over SW8. We never doubted it - honest.
The eighth Stockwell Festival made me feel proud to be part of an ever-changing community. Put aside (but never forget) the headlines trying to put down my little patch of South London; witness instead a diverse collection of people form all around the world, living together and trying to get on in good 'ol sunny Stockwell.
The signs were good when I arrived at Larkhall fashionably late. The sound of the Everly Brothers coming out of a steel drum band made perfect sense. I missed the parade; too busy pedalling around the velodrome and making something of a spectacle myself.
But you can't go wrong with a park full of motorised pineapples. It's a Stockwell thing - nope it really is a Stockwell thing, what with Mr Tradescant, a native of these parts, importing the first pineapples to this country some four hundred years ago.
Tradescant and son are the history of Sunny Stockwell. The family connection was kept, with future Stockwell being very much a family friendly festival. Yeah, it was all for the kids, but then wouldn't you want to spend your Saturday afternoon dancing to a Columbian / Afro-pop mash up, rather than the supermarket run?
Elsewhere around Larkhall and a sneak preview of the Stockwell Bronze Woman statue was on show. More of the new cultural highlight in the Memorial Garden to come...
But for now, renewing my love of Stockwell around Larkhall on Saturday was a fine way to end the summer. Welcome home Sunny Stockwell Festival. Time to start smiling once again.
Full Flickr stream over HERE.
technorati: stockwell festival
| #permalink |
Heading South
I've been writing a weekly sports column in the South London Press for almost five years now. I've seen off seven Millwall managers, witnessed Crystal Palace being promoted, relegated and then fall at a play-off final, not to mention enough dodgy Dulwich performances to send a weekly sports columnist into deep depression.
You probably wouldn't know about my weekly ramblings - not many people do. But you've not been missing out. All of those out of place onionbagblog postings on Millwall / Charlton / Palace that appear around these parts on a Friday afternoon, are simply a cut and paste from the column.
Anyway - I think I've said all that I want to say on South London sport. My interests are changing with my age. I was finished with football a long time ago (although I do still manage to pull in a weekly freelance salary on a football based project - Back of the Net!)
Basketball and ice hockey in South London have lost me to either weekend work commitments, or plain apathy. Cricket and cycling remain a passion, but then there are only so many SLP columns you can file about cricket and cycling in South London.
It's quite a discipline to come up with 500 words on South London sport on a weekly basis. Especially so when you are too busy working to actually watch any South London sport. And so after 228 pieces of copy being sent to the SLP on a strict weekly basis, here's the final piece I filed at midday on Tuesday.
Bye bye The Beautiful South. Anyone want a weekly column written by a bloke who lives for South London's lidos and velodromes?
Chapeau!
********
The Beautiful South
A lot can happen in South London sport during a five-year period. Millwall have gone from FA Cup Finalists at the Millennium Stadium to narrowly avoiding the drop down to the old Division Four; Charlton have replaced stability with boredom, and Crystal Palace have been tamed by the laws of gravity and given up on any hope on bouncebackability.
Meanwhile, The Beautiful South column has been sitting on the sidelines down at Dulwich, observing, speculating, laughing, despairing and simply enjoying South London sport.
Sport can teach us many things. It helps us to manage our anger; it enables us to work together in teams, and even how to accept defeat and be motivated to achieve something higher. But that's enough of the David Brent rant - I'm hanging up my Beautiful South boots and heading off down to the pub.
Yep, the final whistle has been blown on this column. The truth is that I don't get to watch a great deal of South London sport at the moment, which makes writing a weekly sports column slightly difficult.
But what a wonderful five years it has been.
I've seen off seven Millwall managers, witnessed Crystal Palace be promoted, relegated and then fall at the play-offs, not to mention enough dodgy Dulwich performances to send a weekly sports columnist into deep depression.
Dear old Dennis Wise was a much respected football manager when this column first appeared, and not part of a Cockney mafia conspiracy that some believe is trying to cause the downfall of the Geordie nation. He's only five foot four, you know.
Alan Curbishley seemed to have a job for life at The Valley, and not be at the beck and call of businessmen trying to balance the books. That's what happens when you head over to the East End, Al.
The story down at Selhurst has centred on Simon Jordan. The Palace chairman has had his critics, but Jordan has constantly kept the Eagles afloat on a sound, if not ambitious business and football plan. Palace may not be in the Premier League, but Jordan leaves the club on a sound footing.
South London sport is about so much more than the Big Three though. What I've enjoyed most about writing the Beautiful South is the opportunity to meet those involved at the grassroots level of South London sport. Players, officials and administrators - all of them have had a passion for spreading the positive message that sport can deliver to an often-maligned area.
The Southwark Tennis Club at Burgess Park was inspiring; the Mitcham & District Sunday League was struggling to find officials when I last spoke to them. Sad to say that the situation hasn't improved, but the love of football alone leads me to believe that somehow, the league will survive, as will the many similar sporting set ups struggling to stay afloat in South London without any financial assistance.
It's perhaps this passion for football that has found me writing this final piece. The professional game lost me many years ago when the Beautiful Game became nothing but a money machine for the big banks. Game thirty-nine, foreign investment, midday kick-offs - nope, it's not for me.
I'm still watching Dulwich, whenever work commitments allow. I'm still enjoying it. But the passion for the pink 'n blue boys is now on a take it or leave it business.
Cricket excites me still, even if Surrey CCC has failed to generate any enthusiasm for this season. I waved bye bye to basketball when the once flagship London Towers decided to become a pub basketball team. Ice hockey in Streatham amazes me how it still manages to survive. The dedication from within the club is truly inspiring, but I find a freezing late Sunday night at the old arena something of a struggle. The new Streatham hub can't come soon enough.
And so it's on my bike (another sporting passion) as I cycle off to something new. It will probably still involve watching sport. NEVER in North London though.
technorati: the beautiful south
| Saturday 20 September, 2008 |
I've been writing a weekly sports column in the South London Press for almost five years now. I've seen off seven Millwall managers, witnessed Crystal Palace being promoted, relegated and then fall at a play-off final, not to mention enough dodgy Dulwich performances to send a weekly sports columnist into deep depression.
You probably wouldn't know about my weekly ramblings - not many people do. But you've not been missing out. All of those out of place onionbagblog postings on Millwall / Charlton / Palace that appear around these parts on a Friday afternoon, are simply a cut and paste from the column.
Anyway - I think I've said all that I want to say on South London sport. My interests are changing with my age. I was finished with football a long time ago (although I do still manage to pull in a weekly freelance salary on a football based project - Back of the Net!)
Basketball and ice hockey in South London have lost me to either weekend work commitments, or plain apathy. Cricket and cycling remain a passion, but then there are only so many SLP columns you can file about cricket and cycling in South London.
It's quite a discipline to come up with 500 words on South London sport on a weekly basis. Especially so when you are too busy working to actually watch any South London sport. And so after 228 pieces of copy being sent to the SLP on a strict weekly basis, here's the final piece I filed at midday on Tuesday.
Bye bye The Beautiful South. Anyone want a weekly column written by a bloke who lives for South London's lidos and velodromes?
Chapeau!
********
The Beautiful South
A lot can happen in South London sport during a five-year period. Millwall have gone from FA Cup Finalists at the Millennium Stadium to narrowly avoiding the drop down to the old Division Four; Charlton have replaced stability with boredom, and Crystal Palace have been tamed by the laws of gravity and given up on any hope on bouncebackability.
Meanwhile, The Beautiful South column has been sitting on the sidelines down at Dulwich, observing, speculating, laughing, despairing and simply enjoying South London sport.
Sport can teach us many things. It helps us to manage our anger; it enables us to work together in teams, and even how to accept defeat and be motivated to achieve something higher. But that's enough of the David Brent rant - I'm hanging up my Beautiful South boots and heading off down to the pub.
Yep, the final whistle has been blown on this column. The truth is that I don't get to watch a great deal of South London sport at the moment, which makes writing a weekly sports column slightly difficult.
But what a wonderful five years it has been.
I've seen off seven Millwall managers, witnessed Crystal Palace be promoted, relegated and then fall at the play-offs, not to mention enough dodgy Dulwich performances to send a weekly sports columnist into deep depression.
Dear old Dennis Wise was a much respected football manager when this column first appeared, and not part of a Cockney mafia conspiracy that some believe is trying to cause the downfall of the Geordie nation. He's only five foot four, you know.
Alan Curbishley seemed to have a job for life at The Valley, and not be at the beck and call of businessmen trying to balance the books. That's what happens when you head over to the East End, Al.
The story down at Selhurst has centred on Simon Jordan. The Palace chairman has had his critics, but Jordan has constantly kept the Eagles afloat on a sound, if not ambitious business and football plan. Palace may not be in the Premier League, but Jordan leaves the club on a sound footing.
South London sport is about so much more than the Big Three though. What I've enjoyed most about writing the Beautiful South is the opportunity to meet those involved at the grassroots level of South London sport. Players, officials and administrators - all of them have had a passion for spreading the positive message that sport can deliver to an often-maligned area.
The Southwark Tennis Club at Burgess Park was inspiring; the Mitcham & District Sunday League was struggling to find officials when I last spoke to them. Sad to say that the situation hasn't improved, but the love of football alone leads me to believe that somehow, the league will survive, as will the many similar sporting set ups struggling to stay afloat in South London without any financial assistance.
It's perhaps this passion for football that has found me writing this final piece. The professional game lost me many years ago when the Beautiful Game became nothing but a money machine for the big banks. Game thirty-nine, foreign investment, midday kick-offs - nope, it's not for me.
I'm still watching Dulwich, whenever work commitments allow. I'm still enjoying it. But the passion for the pink 'n blue boys is now on a take it or leave it business.
Cricket excites me still, even if Surrey CCC has failed to generate any enthusiasm for this season. I waved bye bye to basketball when the once flagship London Towers decided to become a pub basketball team. Ice hockey in Streatham amazes me how it still manages to survive. The dedication from within the club is truly inspiring, but I find a freezing late Sunday night at the old arena something of a struggle. The new Streatham hub can't come soon enough.
And so it's on my bike (another sporting passion) as I cycle off to something new. It will probably still involve watching sport. NEVER in North London though.
technorati: the beautiful south
| #permalink |
Knee-capped
And so after an incorrect diagnosis of a ruptured cruciate ligament, physiotherapy over a five year period, a private (and costly) consultation with a specialist, a private (and costly) MRI scan, a further private (and costly) consultation with the specialist, a couple of visits to the good Dr Singh of St Reatham and finally a consultation with an NHS knee specialist on Tuesday morning, the diagnosis is:
'Yep, yer knee's knackered.'
Cheers, Doc.
Which is exactly what the good Dr Singh of St Reatham came up with some five years ago.
The solution? If it 'aint broke, don't fix it. It's not brain surgery.
My knee may be knackered, but it 'aint broke. Surgery may complicate the situation. I have no interest in playing football ever again. Spending my spare time being sworn at by alpha males who have anger management problems is not my idea of fun.
I'm finished with road running. Pounding the pavements of Clap'ham has limited appeal after more than a decade of doing the onionbagblog half marathon every Saturday and Sunday morning. How do you think the knee got knackered in the first place?
Circuit training: kiss myass knackered knee.
Nope, swimming and cycling it is (although my heart missed a beat when the NHS knee cutter suggested that I limit my cycling exploits.)
No knee operation, just a constant click whenever I shake a leg. Which 'aint very often these days. It's known as ageing.
Click - it's all falling into place.
Elsewhere around the hospital and I was pleased to read in the Guy's & St Thomas's Trust magazine a '60 second guide to amnesia' - QUICK! Before you forget! There was a 'spotlight on insomnia.' Here's hoping it wasn't a bright spotlight. You'll never get to sleep with that on. Oh, and apparently 'flatulence is often known as blowing off.'
I'm pleased I've got that one out of my system.
technorati: knackered knee
| Tuesday 16 September, 2008 |
And so after an incorrect diagnosis of a ruptured cruciate ligament, physiotherapy over a five year period, a private (and costly) consultation with a specialist, a private (and costly) MRI scan, a further private (and costly) consultation with the specialist, a couple of visits to the good Dr Singh of St Reatham and finally a consultation with an NHS knee specialist on Tuesday morning, the diagnosis is:
'Yep, yer knee's knackered.'
Cheers, Doc.
Which is exactly what the good Dr Singh of St Reatham came up with some five years ago.
The solution? If it 'aint broke, don't fix it. It's not brain surgery.
My knee may be knackered, but it 'aint broke. Surgery may complicate the situation. I have no interest in playing football ever again. Spending my spare time being sworn at by alpha males who have anger management problems is not my idea of fun.
I'm finished with road running. Pounding the pavements of Clap'ham has limited appeal after more than a decade of doing the onionbagblog half marathon every Saturday and Sunday morning. How do you think the knee got knackered in the first place?
Circuit training: kiss my
Nope, swimming and cycling it is (although my heart missed a beat when the NHS knee cutter suggested that I limit my cycling exploits.)
No knee operation, just a constant click whenever I shake a leg. Which 'aint very often these days. It's known as ageing.
Click - it's all falling into place.
Elsewhere around the hospital and I was pleased to read in the Guy's & St Thomas's Trust magazine a '60 second guide to amnesia' - QUICK! Before you forget! There was a 'spotlight on insomnia.' Here's hoping it wasn't a bright spotlight. You'll never get to sleep with that on. Oh, and apparently 'flatulence is often known as blowing off.'
I'm pleased I've got that one out of my system.
technorati: knackered knee
| #permalink |
Genius
I'm always reluctant to install the latest version of iTunes. Bloatware, memory hogging, hard drive filling functionality, that quite frankly, I can function without.
But iTunes v8 - Genius!
Yep, the Genius sidebar really is something special.
There's confidentiality concerns for sure, but where's the danger in declaring to that nice Mr Jobs my musical interest in Northern Soul meets the SU indie disco with some downtown Cajun thrown in somewhere in-between?
The payback for Apple is the link to the iTunes store to purchase Songs You are Missing and Recommendations. My time is short. Long gone are the days when I could spend a Saturday afternoon digging in the crates down at Selectadisc for tunes that I need. Plus I'm an old man now, and I really can't be arsed to spend my spare time seeking out some obscure indie import from Scandinavia.
It took some time to upload my 100 plus Gig iTunes library on Friday night, but now the Genius sidebar is rocking my Mac. My passion in music has been re-kindled after what was becoming something of a worrying (and soulless) summer.
iTunes v8 refuseniks - here's how it work: you allow Apple to scan your iTunes library, and then when activated, the Genius sidebar will come up with a playlist selection for any given track from your library.
And it works!
I've struggled with last.fm and Pandora; there's no point in me having a playlist of tracks that I'm not familiar with. A playlist should be all about feeling comfortable. If I wanted diversity then I'd listen to Late Junction.
But the real genius of Genius is that it serves up tracks that I'd long since had buried away deep in the iTunes library. And then it presents them in a context that makes sense.
And so at 7am on the Monday morning shift, after selecting Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want, the iTunes Genius sidebar rocked my start of the week with:
The Smiths - Please, Please, Please
The Stones Roses - I Wanna Be Adored
Echo and the Bunnymen - The Killing Moon
Depeche Mode - Somebody
Velvet Underground - Train Round the Bend
The Dream Academy - Life in a Northern Town [TUNE!]
John & Yoko - Watching the Wheels [yeah, not quite sure how this slipped under the radar]
The Cure - Let's Go to Bed
New Order - Los Vigilantes
Elvis Costello - Everyday I Write the Book
The The - This is the Day
R.E.M. - Don't Go Back to Rockville
Genius!
My podcast subscriptions are becoming unmanageable with 71 currently queued up for me to listen to. I've worked away listening to the cricket commentary for most of the summer, which was a rather depressing experience, hence the need for The Smiths at 7am on Monday morning.
Subscription based podcasts, live streaming, play on demand - it's all about the music, isn't it?
Cheers, Mr Jobs.
Genius.
technorati: itunes genius
| Monday 15 September, 2008 |
I'm always reluctant to install the latest version of iTunes. Bloatware, memory hogging, hard drive filling functionality, that quite frankly, I can function without.
But iTunes v8 - Genius!
Yep, the Genius sidebar really is something special.
There's confidentiality concerns for sure, but where's the danger in declaring to that nice Mr Jobs my musical interest in Northern Soul meets the SU indie disco with some downtown Cajun thrown in somewhere in-between?
The payback for Apple is the link to the iTunes store to purchase Songs You are Missing and Recommendations. My time is short. Long gone are the days when I could spend a Saturday afternoon digging in the crates down at Selectadisc for tunes that I need. Plus I'm an old man now, and I really can't be arsed to spend my spare time seeking out some obscure indie import from Scandinavia.
It took some time to upload my 100 plus Gig iTunes library on Friday night, but now the Genius sidebar is rocking my Mac. My passion in music has been re-kindled after what was becoming something of a worrying (and soulless) summer.
iTunes v8 refuseniks - here's how it work: you allow Apple to scan your iTunes library, and then when activated, the Genius sidebar will come up with a playlist selection for any given track from your library.
And it works!
I've struggled with last.fm and Pandora; there's no point in me having a playlist of tracks that I'm not familiar with. A playlist should be all about feeling comfortable. If I wanted diversity then I'd listen to Late Junction.
But the real genius of Genius is that it serves up tracks that I'd long since had buried away deep in the iTunes library. And then it presents them in a context that makes sense.
And so at 7am on the Monday morning shift, after selecting Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want, the iTunes Genius sidebar rocked my start of the week with:
The Smiths - Please, Please, Please
The Stones Roses - I Wanna Be Adored
Echo and the Bunnymen - The Killing Moon
Depeche Mode - Somebody
Velvet Underground - Train Round the Bend
The Dream Academy - Life in a Northern Town [TUNE!]
John & Yoko - Watching the Wheels [yeah, not quite sure how this slipped under the radar]
The Cure - Let's Go to Bed
New Order - Los Vigilantes
Elvis Costello - Everyday I Write the Book
The The - This is the Day
R.E.M. - Don't Go Back to Rockville
Genius!
My podcast subscriptions are becoming unmanageable with 71 currently queued up for me to listen to. I've worked away listening to the cricket commentary for most of the summer, which was a rather depressing experience, hence the need for The Smiths at 7am on Monday morning.
Subscription based podcasts, live streaming, play on demand - it's all about the music, isn't it?
Cheers, Mr Jobs.
Genius.
technorati: itunes genius
| #permalink |
Reality Bites
Millwall fans: at what stage do you accept your current league status as Third Division strugglers? It's a valid question, and one that I feel better for asking from behind the safety of a keyboard, rather than just before kick off on match day. The Millwall fans I know are all lovely people, but politely reminding them of their current lowly league position is unlikely to get me another pint at the bar.
Likewise, Palace fans: have you accepted yet that it's highly unlikely that you're going to be considered a permanent away fixture in the Premier League? I expect that most people around Selhurst have come to terms with Palace's status. Especially so Simon Jordan, who after a fine period of investment, seems to have realised that he has taken Palace as far as he can personally - which just happens to be a play-off place at best.
My fear for Charlton fans is that they have still yet to accept their status as a selling club in Division Two. The brilliant marketing ploy of offering a free Premier League season ticket, should the Addicks go up, has now been extended to a second season. Will the same PR trick be pulled in five years time? How about ten years from now?
Once again, to cast such doom and gloom across South London from behind the safety of a keyboard is not meant to offend. I just see a blinkered approach surrounding South London's big three, who quite frankly, aren't that big anymore.
The problem in being a passionate fan is that you can't take a step back and see the wider picture. Millwall are only a few signings away from challenging, we're told week in, week out. Yeah, but challenging for what? The right to play Doncaster away in the old Division Two next season?
Season after season of poor management, both on and off the pitch, and Millwall fans can quite conveniently forget that the glory days of FA Cup Finals and away days in Europe are unlikely to return.
Palace lived the dream with Iain Dowie (seriously!) and came within a whisker of actually being able to experience the dreaded second season syndrome. Which leads us nicely to Charlton, the nicest of nice football clubs, but one which still believes that success is bought on stability, yet fails to see how an unstable squad is unlikely to achieve this.
Oh for the detachment of a clear perspective, and also a clear pint. 'Managing expectations' may be something that you expect Sir Alan Sugar to say, but let us not forget, the great bearded one is also a football man.
It's no different down at Dulwich. The pink 'n blue boys really shouldn't be playing the likes of Burgess Hill Town, the Met Police and Croydon Athletic each week. We're playing in a division below our natural level.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. But we are where we're at. Which right now, is an average team playing in the Ryman Division One (South), exactly where an average football team deserves to be playing.
So I ask again: Millwall fans - at what stage do you accept your current status? Hopefully some time soon before drop door down to the old Division Four is staring you in the face. Contentment comes from a cold reality check.
technorati: crap football
| Friday 12 September, 2008 |
Millwall fans: at what stage do you accept your current league status as Third Division strugglers? It's a valid question, and one that I feel better for asking from behind the safety of a keyboard, rather than just before kick off on match day. The Millwall fans I know are all lovely people, but politely reminding them of their current lowly league position is unlikely to get me another pint at the bar.
Likewise, Palace fans: have you accepted yet that it's highly unlikely that you're going to be considered a permanent away fixture in the Premier League? I expect that most people around Selhurst have come to terms with Palace's status. Especially so Simon Jordan, who after a fine period of investment, seems to have realised that he has taken Palace as far as he can personally - which just happens to be a play-off place at best.
My fear for Charlton fans is that they have still yet to accept their status as a selling club in Division Two. The brilliant marketing ploy of offering a free Premier League season ticket, should the Addicks go up, has now been extended to a second season. Will the same PR trick be pulled in five years time? How about ten years from now?
Once again, to cast such doom and gloom across South London from behind the safety of a keyboard is not meant to offend. I just see a blinkered approach surrounding South London's big three, who quite frankly, aren't that big anymore.
The problem in being a passionate fan is that you can't take a step back and see the wider picture. Millwall are only a few signings away from challenging, we're told week in, week out. Yeah, but challenging for what? The right to play Doncaster away in the old Division Two next season?
Season after season of poor management, both on and off the pitch, and Millwall fans can quite conveniently forget that the glory days of FA Cup Finals and away days in Europe are unlikely to return.
Palace lived the dream with Iain Dowie (seriously!) and came within a whisker of actually being able to experience the dreaded second season syndrome. Which leads us nicely to Charlton, the nicest of nice football clubs, but one which still believes that success is bought on stability, yet fails to see how an unstable squad is unlikely to achieve this.
Oh for the detachment of a clear perspective, and also a clear pint. 'Managing expectations' may be something that you expect Sir Alan Sugar to say, but let us not forget, the great bearded one is also a football man.
It's no different down at Dulwich. The pink 'n blue boys really shouldn't be playing the likes of Burgess Hill Town, the Met Police and Croydon Athletic each week. We're playing in a division below our natural level.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. But we are where we're at. Which right now, is an average team playing in the Ryman Division One (South), exactly where an average football team deserves to be playing.
So I ask again: Millwall fans - at what stage do you accept your current status? Hopefully some time soon before drop door down to the old Division Four is staring you in the face. Contentment comes from a cold reality check.
technorati: crap football
| #permalink |
Hidden Depth
Especially for reader Marc, who wanted to know more about the depth of focus shots I've been featuring recently...
'Hi obb
I read your blog daily and am always impressed with your photos.
As an amateur hack photographer, can I ask for a tip? How do you take those photos with a short depth of field like the ones currently on display?
Do you use a particular lens or aperture and get up real close for the best effect? Or do you use a zoom and shoot from far away?
Also, do you use the focusing points off centre? I am still playing around with my Canon EOS 400D and reading through the manual, but just a brief insight would be appreciated.'
>>>>>>>>
And here's the response:
Hi there
Thanks for the kind words. I hope I can be of some help.
Most of the images on my site are shot with a Sony F717. I have a really powerful Carl Zeiss lens built into the camera. This is the main selling point for me. It is incredibly strong, and equally flexible. The depth of focus effect that you mention is mainly carried out through the lens. I find it hard to produce similar results with my other cameras.
Basically I focus on a subject that I want in the foreground, and then with the shutter button half held down (to keep the focus,) I either zoom out, zoom in, or move myself physically around to a different location, depending want I want in the background.
The camera also has a unique swivel body. This allows you to place it on the floor, yet still be able to see the LCD screen. This is great for depth of focus shots looking along a pavement.
I paid about £800 for the camera back in 2003. I liked it so much, that I bought an identical one, almost new, on eBay last year for £80! You should be able to pick one up for under £100. Although it's an old model, there are more than enough features to play around with and keep you happy.
I hope this explains the basic technique and how I achieve it. It really is all about the camera, and not me. Feel free to ask any other questions, and happy shooting.
obb
technorati: york road
| Wednesday 10 September, 2008 |
Especially for reader Marc, who wanted to know more about the depth of focus shots I've been featuring recently...
'Hi obb
I read your blog daily and am always impressed with your photos.
As an amateur hack photographer, can I ask for a tip? How do you take those photos with a short depth of field like the ones currently on display?
Do you use a particular lens or aperture and get up real close for the best effect? Or do you use a zoom and shoot from far away?
Also, do you use the focusing points off centre? I am still playing around with my Canon EOS 400D and reading through the manual, but just a brief insight would be appreciated.'
>>>>>>>>
And here's the response:
Hi there
Thanks for the kind words. I hope I can be of some help.
Most of the images on my site are shot with a Sony F717. I have a really powerful Carl Zeiss lens built into the camera. This is the main selling point for me. It is incredibly strong, and equally flexible. The depth of focus effect that you mention is mainly carried out through the lens. I find it hard to produce similar results with my other cameras.
Basically I focus on a subject that I want in the foreground, and then with the shutter button half held down (to keep the focus,) I either zoom out, zoom in, or move myself physically around to a different location, depending want I want in the background.
The camera also has a unique swivel body. This allows you to place it on the floor, yet still be able to see the LCD screen. This is great for depth of focus shots looking along a pavement.
I paid about £800 for the camera back in 2003. I liked it so much, that I bought an identical one, almost new, on eBay last year for £80! You should be able to pick one up for under £100. Although it's an old model, there are more than enough features to play around with and keep you happy.
I hope this explains the basic technique and how I achieve it. It really is all about the camera, and not me. Feel free to ask any other questions, and happy shooting.
obb
technorati: york road
| #permalink |
(Banking) Online
And yep, true to form, the promised cheque was almost six weeks late in dropping through the door. I bet it bounces.
Now then: apart from paying the mortgage, bills, buying booze etc, what to do with the money? I'm thinking of starting up my own ISP. I'll be the first customer.
You useless tosser! etc.
technorati: pipex, useless tossers
| Tuesday 9 September, 2008 |
And yep, true to form, the promised cheque was almost six weeks late in dropping through the door. I bet it bounces.
Now then: apart from paying the mortgage, bills, buying booze etc, what to do with the money? I'm thinking of starting up my own ISP. I'll be the first customer.
You useless tosser! etc.
technorati: pipex, useless tossers
| #permalink |
Le Tour de Norfolk - LIVE!
Refresh and scroll down for updates.
Saturday, 08:30
Time to leave London, time for the onionbagblog Tour de Norfolk. I don't get out of London much. What's the point? Truth be told, I don't get out of South London much. What's the point? The lovely lido, le velo and The Oval serve my simple needs. But every now and then, Norfolk beckons - Blakeney to be precise.
Over a decade of family holidays spent on the North Norfolk coast and I know the area almost as well as I know the Stockwell / Oval / Vauxhall Triangle of Intrigue. Chalk and cheese though when it comes to local characteristics.
The North Norfolk coast hasn't changed since those endless 80's family holidays. I doubt if it's changed much since the 1880's. And there lies the beauty of the area. A simple life for simple people. Which is precisely why the fragrant mrs onionbagblogger and I are heading off there for a few days.
But the simple life still has some spirit. The locals of Sheringham recently took on the big boys of Tesco, managing to stop a huge superstore being built in the town. Tide and time wait for no man, but a faceless multi-national still has no place in Norfolk.
I rather like the combination of community and the quiet life.
It's no secret that we're snooping around for a semi-retirement home on the Norfolk Coast. Given that neither of us have yet to hit forty, I'm not sure if this is either an achievement or an admission of failure.
And so an early start on Saturday, cycling from Sunny Stockwell, all the way to... erm, Liverpool Street. Next stop Norwich, change for Sheringham, and then freewheel all the way down to Blakeney Quay.
The train operator seems to change each time I take this trip. I'm currently sitting in a carriage that looks rather like the one I was sitting in last time, except National Express now have my custom.
Locking up the bikes in the guard's van was a bit of a kid in a sweetshop experience. The van doubled up as the supply store for the canteen. 8am and not a soul in sight. Well, you would, wouldn't you?
mrs obb proved to be a piss poor pickpocket, picking up a bottle of water, putting it back, picking it up again and then dropping it on the floor. I think the CTV ran out of storage space before her conscience finally got the better of her and we left empty handed.
We're sitting in the Quiet Zone. Which is proving to be anything but. Some silly bint is banging on over the PA about how 'Chelmsford is the next stop.'.
Sorry, luv - not at 8am in the morning.
No en suite WiFi on National Express; not very confident about the 'officially shite' 3 mobile broadband picking up a signal in downtown Blakeney. Community and the quiet life and all that. This could be the shortest Le Tour de Norfolk - LIVE! blog, EVER!
Ah, just as the silly bint promised we're now rocking Chelmsford.
Chapeau!
10:30
All change at Norwich for the Country Bumpkin Express, bound for Sheringham. Definitely no en suite WiFi here, and the officially shite 3 dongle 'aint doing great business. The East Anglia inbreeding theory is holding strong though. mrs obb and I were enthralled for the duration of the journey with a tall tale all about how some Old Boy almost sat on a spider last night. Oh the high japes. The story lost some of the appeal tenth time around. I felt sorry for the spider.
Platform six at Norwich was as bleak (and cold) as it sounds. The idea of this very late summer escape has turned mrs obb blue already.
Next stop: Sheringham. What time does Tescos open?
Sometime late Monday evening
So much for the wonders of modern WiFi. At least it proves the Carphone Warehouse theory that 3 mobile broadband is 'officially shite.'
Sheringham was nice though. So much so that I spent most of the weekend on photography duty, rather LIVE! (knobber) blogging.
Full Flickr set over HERE.
£150k for a cliff top caravan you say? Currently doing the calculations...
technorati: le tour de norfolk
| Saturday 6 September, 2008 |
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Saturday, 08:30
Time to leave London, time for the onionbagblog Tour de Norfolk. I don't get out of London much. What's the point? Truth be told, I don't get out of South London much. What's the point? The lovely lido, le velo and The Oval serve my simple needs. But every now and then, Norfolk beckons - Blakeney to be precise.
Over a decade of family holidays spent on the North Norfolk coast and I know the area almost as well as I know the Stockwell / Oval / Vauxhall Triangle of Intrigue. Chalk and cheese though when it comes to local characteristics.
The North Norfolk coast hasn't changed since those endless 80's family holidays. I doubt if it's changed much since the 1880's. And there lies the beauty of the area. A simple life for simple people. Which is precisely why the fragrant mrs onionbagblogger and I are heading off there for a few days.
But the simple life still has some spirit. The locals of Sheringham recently took on the big boys of Tesco, managing to stop a huge superstore being built in the town. Tide and time wait for no man, but a faceless multi-national still has no place in Norfolk.
I rather like the combination of community and the quiet life.
It's no secret that we're snooping around for a semi-retirement home on the Norfolk Coast. Given that neither of us have yet to hit forty, I'm not sure if this is either an achievement or an admission of failure.
And so an early start on Saturday, cycling from Sunny Stockwell, all the way to... erm, Liverpool Street. Next stop Norwich, change for Sheringham, and then freewheel all the way down to Blakeney Quay.
The train operator seems to change each time I take this trip. I'm currently sitting in a carriage that looks rather like the one I was sitting in last time, except National Express now have my custom.
Locking up the bikes in the guard's van was a bit of a kid in a sweetshop experience. The van doubled up as the supply store for the canteen. 8am and not a soul in sight. Well, you would, wouldn't you?
mrs obb proved to be a piss poor pickpocket, picking up a bottle of water, putting it back, picking it up again and then dropping it on the floor. I think the CTV ran out of storage space before her conscience finally got the better of her and we left empty handed.
We're sitting in the Quiet Zone. Which is proving to be anything but. Some silly bint is banging on over the PA about how 'Chelmsford is the next stop.'.
Sorry, luv - not at 8am in the morning.
No en suite WiFi on National Express; not very confident about the 'officially shite' 3 mobile broadband picking up a signal in downtown Blakeney. Community and the quiet life and all that. This could be the shortest Le Tour de Norfolk - LIVE! blog, EVER!
Ah, just as the silly bint promised we're now rocking Chelmsford.
Chapeau!
10:30
All change at Norwich for the Country Bumpkin Express, bound for Sheringham. Definitely no en suite WiFi here, and the officially shite 3 dongle 'aint doing great business. The East Anglia inbreeding theory is holding strong though. mrs obb and I were enthralled for the duration of the journey with a tall tale all about how some Old Boy almost sat on a spider last night. Oh the high japes. The story lost some of the appeal tenth time around. I felt sorry for the spider.
Platform six at Norwich was as bleak (and cold) as it sounds. The idea of this very late summer escape has turned mrs obb blue already.
Next stop: Sheringham. What time does Tescos open?
Sometime late Monday evening
So much for the wonders of modern WiFi. At least it proves the Carphone Warehouse theory that 3 mobile broadband is 'officially shite.'
Sheringham was nice though. So much so that I spent most of the weekend on photography duty, rather LIVE! (knobber) blogging.
Full Flickr set over HERE.
£150k for a cliff top caravan you say? Currently doing the calculations...
technorati: le tour de norfolk
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Gotcha!
I thought I was alone in my guilty secret of not giving a shit. But with the bedroom window open, THREE separate passers by gave a round of applause as the Chelsea tractor was towed away.
What I want to know is how the hell does the knobber Petrol Head get to know about the unfortunate incident? You can't exactly leave a parking ticket.
So is it a quiet call from the Council, or does the poor Petrol Head have to go through the whole 'shit, my car's been pinched' process, and then find out the tow away truth down at the Cop Shop?
Like I said. I don't really give a shit.
technorati: car trouble
| Friday 5 September, 2008 |
I thought I was alone in my guilty secret of not giving a shit. But with the bedroom window open, THREE separate passers by gave a round of applause as the Chelsea tractor was towed away.
What I want to know is how the hell does the knobber Petrol Head get to know about the unfortunate incident? You can't exactly leave a parking ticket.
So is it a quiet call from the Council, or does the poor Petrol Head have to go through the whole 'shit, my car's been pinched' process, and then find out the tow away truth down at the Cop Shop?
Like I said. I don't really give a shit.
technorati: car trouble
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Gazumped
How was the Premier League transfer deadline day for you? Not having any Premier League teams in South London made it something of a non-event around these parts.
Down at Dulwich and every day is transfer deadline day. New players arrive and depart more frequently than a number 42 bus from down the Old Kent Road. And just like big red busses, Dulwich players leave you standing around for ages waiting for something to happen, and then all of a sudden, half a dozen turn up at once, and then disappear down the road to Bermondsey and our Fisher friends (who currently groundshare at Champion Hill, so it's not quite buggering off to Bermondsey, but you get the idea.)
Back with the big boys and the Premier League's mad scramble to spend the Sky dosh turned out rather exciting for once. I was refreshing my browser on the BBC site every thirty seconds to see if the great Bulgarian sulker had landed his 'dream move' to... Man City.
£30.75m seems a hell of a lot to pay for a player who hasn't been in the right frame of mind to run around for 90 minutes on consecutive fortnights. Especially so when you consider the chronic lack of sporting investment that can currently be seen around South London.
Business is business, etc, and who am I to question the sanity of the moneymen now taking control of our game? But with '2012 investment' translating as 'slosh the cash around the East End and conveniently forget that it is the LONDON Olympics,' just think what a small share of that £30m plus that Fergie paid for the Spurs forward could achieve South of the river.
The much-maligned Streatham Hub scheme (another supermarket with a token ice rink attached to appease the locals) currently clocks in at £90m. Construction has yet to start as costs are rising. Meanwhile Streatham IceRink Arena and Streatham Pool are both falling down, without any help from the bulldozers. For the price of three Bulgarian sulkers, Streatham could be transformed.
A quick trip around the South Circular and you'll soon be at Clap'ham Manor Leisure Centre. 'Future Clapham' is the marketing buzz phrase that the Rotten Borough has re-branded the building of a new pool. £75m at a snip to build a new pool - cheap at half the price when you consider Man City have just paid a record breaking £32.5m for Robinho. The Brazilian's cost is set to rise, as he's still relatively young. Have no fear - only last week, Lambeth Council revealed that the cost of Future Clapham is rising, thanks to the credit crunch.
But who needs a sulking Bulgarian or a crybaby Brazilian when there's more pressing matters closer to home? Simply running a football club is a costly business. Millwall have estimated that each EGM demanded by shareholder Graham Ferguson costs £50,000. The American property developer could hold an EGM every day for the next year, and still have enough spare change to buy half a Berbatov.
Now that's something to really sulk about.
technorati: 2012, premier league, overpriced footballers, lambeth knobbers
| Friday 5 September, 2008 |
How was the Premier League transfer deadline day for you? Not having any Premier League teams in South London made it something of a non-event around these parts.
Down at Dulwich and every day is transfer deadline day. New players arrive and depart more frequently than a number 42 bus from down the Old Kent Road. And just like big red busses, Dulwich players leave you standing around for ages waiting for something to happen, and then all of a sudden, half a dozen turn up at once, and then disappear down the road to Bermondsey and our Fisher friends (who currently groundshare at Champion Hill, so it's not quite buggering off to Bermondsey, but you get the idea.)
Back with the big boys and the Premier League's mad scramble to spend the Sky dosh turned out rather exciting for once. I was refreshing my browser on the BBC site every thirty seconds to see if the great Bulgarian sulker had landed his 'dream move' to... Man City.
£30.75m seems a hell of a lot to pay for a player who hasn't been in the right frame of mind to run around for 90 minutes on consecutive fortnights. Especially so when you consider the chronic lack of sporting investment that can currently be seen around South London.
Business is business, etc, and who am I to question the sanity of the moneymen now taking control of our game? But with '2012 investment' translating as 'slosh the cash around the East End and conveniently forget that it is the LONDON Olympics,' just think what a small share of that £30m plus that Fergie paid for the Spurs forward could achieve South of the river.
The much-maligned Streatham Hub scheme (another supermarket with a token ice rink attached to appease the locals) currently clocks in at £90m. Construction has yet to start as costs are rising. Meanwhile Streatham Ice
A quick trip around the South Circular and you'll soon be at Clap'ham Manor Leisure Centre. 'Future Clapham' is the marketing buzz phrase that the Rotten Borough has re-branded the building of a new pool. £75m at a snip to build a new pool - cheap at half the price when you consider Man City have just paid a record breaking £32.5m for Robinho. The Brazilian's cost is set to rise, as he's still relatively young. Have no fear - only last week, Lambeth Council revealed that the cost of Future Clapham is rising, thanks to the credit crunch.
But who needs a sulking Bulgarian or a crybaby Brazilian when there's more pressing matters closer to home? Simply running a football club is a costly business. Millwall have estimated that each EGM demanded by shareholder Graham Ferguson costs £50,000. The American property developer could hold an EGM every day for the next year, and still have enough spare change to buy half a Berbatov.
Now that's something to really sulk about.
technorati: 2012, premier league, overpriced footballers, lambeth knobbers
| #permalink |
Funny Bones
I'm a bit late on the uptake, but a great obit for a great man. I had the pleasure of watching Ken Campbell perform twice - once at an improv session (what else) at The Globe, and then a year later, downstream on the beach outside the South Bank.
Mad as a wet hen, highly original and with a set of eyebrows to match his anarchic look on life.
He'll have some tales to tell wherever he's roaming right now.
technorati: ken campbell
| Wednesday 3 September, 2008 |
I'm a bit late on the uptake, but a great obit for a great man. I had the pleasure of watching Ken Campbell perform twice - once at an improv session (what else) at The Globe, and then a year later, downstream on the beach outside the South Bank.
Mad as a wet hen, highly original and with a set of eyebrows to match his anarchic look on life.
He'll have some tales to tell wherever he's roaming right now.
technorati: ken campbell
| #permalink |
Crap Match Report - LIVE!
Surrey Vs Kent
Live! (knobber) blogging from a floodlit (and quite frankly, not exactly ideal cricketing conditions) Brit Oval.
Refresh and scroll down for updates.
18:55
And so on the day that the Premier League Sack Race was won by Kevin Keegan, why oh why am I still watching Surrey play the summer game? When does the ice hockey season start? (...it already has.)
I blame global warming. Either that or the Sky cameras, camped out here in South London and contributing to the death of some poor penguin with The Oval lit up like a nuclear reactor.
Actually we could do with a touch of global warming around SE11 this evening. I'm sitting here in my cycling tights - TRUE! If it gets any colder, then there's always the 100 100's bar down below in the pavilion, which is broadcasting the Sky pictures.
But that defeats the aim of the evening: sit outdoors during the fag end of the summer until 10pm, reflect on yet another fine summer for Mr Ramps and try and neck as many bottles of 50p reduced prices bottles of Bud as possible.
Before the booze kicks in, I'm contractually obliged to point out that I missed Kent innings completely. Even the life of a freelancer requires the odd bit of freelancing every now and then.
Kent have knocked up an extremely competitive 314 off their forty overs. I would tell you for how many wickets, but the scoreboard is buggered. I bet it's because of all that power required to light up half of South London.
Bloke sitting next to me has just started his day / night luncheon - cold fish 'n chips that he's had statched in his bag since 4pm. The dirty dog. First bottle of Bud about to be opened. The Umpires are out in the middle, and lookey here - it's only the would be England captain Rob Key leading his team out. James Benn-ing and Scott Newman are opening for the Brown Caps (urgh!!!!)
C'mon the 'rrey!
7:40
315 was always going to be an ambitious run chase, especially so considering Surrey's sorry state this summer. LIVE! (knobber) blogging is normally all about how much content you can cram in before the battery dies on everyone's favourite Sub-Price Ultra Compact Notebook. Looks like Surrey will be all out this evening before the Asus even boots up.
21-3 in the fourth over. But have no fear, cometh the floodlit hour, cometh the radiant Mr Ramps. That's all I'm gonna say about the Great Man; summer form of me biggin' up Twinkle Toes on the blog normally leads to Mr Ramps walking back to the pavilion.
Wicket as Ispeak type. Don't worry, lovely Rampants - it's not yer man. Afzaal is back in the hutch.
Being pyjama cricket and we're being subjected to some horrors from the modern hit parade being blasted out around The Oval. It means little to me, or the (other) Old Boys sitting around me in the pavilion. They're craving for some Frank Sinatra; a bit of Crass would do me fine.
Sun is setting behind Battersea Power Station, a truly amazing sight. Not so great though when it's accompanied by the soundtrack of some South London kids bussed into the old ground to create some atmosphere.
Shut the fuck up.
(been boozing by the way, me not the South London kids.)
'Free face painting at the back of the Bedser Stand until 8pm,' apparently. I wonder if they will touch up my old man?
29-4 the 'rrey in the sixth.
8:30
Been thinking long and hard about which (non-crap) music I would stroll out to at the crease, should I ever want to emulate my University ofCity of Death Leicester career starts of 0, not out.
It's not contest really - gotta be Reet Petite
'Welllll........ look about, look about, look about - ooohhh, we!
Look about, look about, look about - ooohhh, we!
Oooh
Aaah
Oooh
ahhh - well she's so fine, fine fine, she's so fine.'
Is there a better song in the world right now (and please don't say the new Oasis single. Not heard it, but y'know - it's crap.)
I'm being treated, if not to a masterclass Surrey batting display, but to an illuminated London skyline. Looking from West to East from the top of the old pavilion is a sight I usually only get to see during daylight. From Battersea across to St Mary's Axe, following the river downstream and all lit up - WOW - it's enough to make you want to stand on your seat and sing out Reet Petite aloud.
Mr Ramps promised, but was back in the pavilion for 20. 94-5 in the 17th, and I reckon I will be back at base in time for the Eastenders repeat on BBC3.
It's thirsty work, especially so for the Surrey Member I eye-balled in the Gents... filling up his kettle.
What the chuffing hell is that all about?
I did see another Surrey 'member' in the Gents that almost had my eye out.
Once again, what the chuffing hell... etc.
C'mon the 'rrey! I want my Eastenders.
technorati: surrey cricket
| Tuesday 2 September, 2008 |
Surrey Vs Kent
Live! (knobber) blogging from a floodlit (and quite frankly, not exactly ideal cricketing conditions) Brit Oval.
Refresh and scroll down for updates.
18:55
And so on the day that the Premier League Sack Race was won by Kevin Keegan, why oh why am I still watching Surrey play the summer game? When does the ice hockey season start? (...it already has.)
I blame global warming. Either that or the Sky cameras, camped out here in South London and contributing to the death of some poor penguin with The Oval lit up like a nuclear reactor.
Actually we could do with a touch of global warming around SE11 this evening. I'm sitting here in my cycling tights - TRUE! If it gets any colder, then there's always the 100 100's bar down below in the pavilion, which is broadcasting the Sky pictures.
But that defeats the aim of the evening: sit outdoors during the fag end of the summer until 10pm, reflect on yet another fine summer for Mr Ramps and try and neck as many bottles of 50p reduced prices bottles of Bud as possible.
Before the booze kicks in, I'm contractually obliged to point out that I missed Kent innings completely. Even the life of a freelancer requires the odd bit of freelancing every now and then.
Kent have knocked up an extremely competitive 314 off their forty overs. I would tell you for how many wickets, but the scoreboard is buggered. I bet it's because of all that power required to light up half of South London.
Bloke sitting next to me has just started his day / night luncheon - cold fish 'n chips that he's had statched in his bag since 4pm. The dirty dog. First bottle of Bud about to be opened. The Umpires are out in the middle, and lookey here - it's only the would be England captain Rob Key leading his team out. James Benn-ing and Scott Newman are opening for the Brown Caps (urgh!!!!)
C'mon the 'rrey!
7:40
315 was always going to be an ambitious run chase, especially so considering Surrey's sorry state this summer. LIVE! (knobber) blogging is normally all about how much content you can cram in before the battery dies on everyone's favourite Sub-Price Ultra Compact Notebook. Looks like Surrey will be all out this evening before the Asus even boots up.
21-3 in the fourth over. But have no fear, cometh the floodlit hour, cometh the radiant Mr Ramps. That's all I'm gonna say about the Great Man; summer form of me biggin' up Twinkle Toes on the blog normally leads to Mr Ramps walking back to the pavilion.
Wicket as I
Being pyjama cricket and we're being subjected to some horrors from the modern hit parade being blasted out around The Oval. It means little to me, or the (other) Old Boys sitting around me in the pavilion. They're craving for some Frank Sinatra; a bit of Crass would do me fine.
Sun is setting behind Battersea Power Station, a truly amazing sight. Not so great though when it's accompanied by the soundtrack of some South London kids bussed into the old ground to create some atmosphere.
Shut the fuck up.
(been boozing by the way, me not the South London kids.)
'Free face painting at the back of the Bedser Stand until 8pm,' apparently. I wonder if they will touch up my old man?
29-4 the 'rrey in the sixth.
8:30
Been thinking long and hard about which (non-crap) music I would stroll out to at the crease, should I ever want to emulate my University of
It's not contest really - gotta be Reet Petite
'Welllll........ look about, look about, look about - ooohhh, we!
Look about, look about, look about - ooohhh, we!
Oooh
Aaah
Oooh
ahhh - well she's so fine, fine fine, she's so fine.'
Is there a better song in the world right now (and please don't say the new Oasis single. Not heard it, but y'know - it's crap.)
I'm being treated, if not to a masterclass Surrey batting display, but to an illuminated London skyline. Looking from West to East from the top of the old pavilion is a sight I usually only get to see during daylight. From Battersea across to St Mary's Axe, following the river downstream and all lit up - WOW - it's enough to make you want to stand on your seat and sing out Reet Petite aloud.
Mr Ramps promised, but was back in the pavilion for 20. 94-5 in the 17th, and I reckon I will be back at base in time for the Eastenders repeat on BBC3.
It's thirsty work, especially so for the Surrey Member I eye-balled in the Gents... filling up his kettle.
What the chuffing hell is that all about?
I did see another Surrey 'member' in the Gents that almost had my eye out.
Once again, what the chuffing hell... etc.
C'mon the 'rrey! I want my Eastenders.
technorati: surrey cricket
| #permalink |
