onionbagblog
Sex & the City
'You won't be short of a photo or two for this location. Waterloo Road has a lot to offer, from classic architecture to urban grime, high to low culture and a constant hustle and bustle of people.
Architecturally you have the splendid Waterloo station, the modern Imax theatre, the wonderful St. John's Waterloo and the timeless Old Vic to name but a few.
It's also the location for a rather splendid film of the same name staring John Mills (look out any spivs!)
It's one of those streets that you could probably take three hundred shots of - but you have only three! Enjoy!'
technorati: waterloo road
| Wednesday 31 December, 2008 |
'You won't be short of a photo or two for this location. Waterloo Road has a lot to offer, from classic architecture to urban grime, high to low culture and a constant hustle and bustle of people.
Architecturally you have the splendid Waterloo station, the modern Imax theatre, the wonderful St. John's Waterloo and the timeless Old Vic to name but a few.
It's also the location for a rather splendid film of the same name staring John Mills (look out any spivs!)
It's one of those streets that you could probably take three hundred shots of - but you have only three! Enjoy!'
technorati: waterloo road
| #permalink |
Nothing to See...
Um, not a lot if you're using the modern interweb to socially interact with the good people of Sunny Stockwell. The current posts consist of a feed spewing out planning applications from the local authority, re-hashed gumtree ads and good old-fashioned spam.
I can find out more about what's going on here by buying a pint of milk from my local newsagents and catching up with Mr Khan over the counter.
Maybe streetwire just needs a more little time to mature? The micro-blogging ethos behind twitter was terrible upon launch; it was like Facebook status updates on steroids. But then as the critical mass of a UK user base grew, twitter has now become the acceptable face of social media.
I can't help thinking that the very insular, local feel of streetwire is going to restrict it. twitter turns me on in that I can interact with users from down the road, or equally on the other side of the world, without having to pigeon hole them by postcode. Of far more importance is a shared interest, something you can filter by choosing who you follow, and more importantly, allowing which users can follow you.
Reduce this user base to a postcode demographic and you're talking to yourself. Sticking your head out of the window and shouting very loudly would be a better way of interacting on a local level.
I can't quite see the web 2.0 masses of Sunny Stockwell spending their evenings posting SW8 updates to streetwire. If streetwire is to succeed, it is the users that need to take control, and take it away from being what is currently nothing but a local online classified section.
And then there's the distribution of streetwire updates: no RSS, no third-party apps (yet), just a very static web page that doesn't exactly draw me back for frequent F5 refreshes.
The beta version has the option to embed a very basic feed into your blog. But then you might as well litter your site with Google ads, such is the crappy commercial nature of the content.
I really would like for genuine local social media sites to work. The online dialogue with your neighbours is the 2.0 equivalent of the gossip over the garden fence.
But why should local people trust a non-local source to deliver them local information? Perhaps the gossipers over the garden fence would be better off building their own genuine micro-level social media tool?
Nah - Mr Khan's it is then.
Oh, and while we're at it... no more LinkedIn requests please. The last thing I want is a social media network of ex-work colleagues.
technorati: streetwire
| Tuesday 30 December, 2008 |
Um, not a lot if you're using the modern interweb to socially interact with the good people of Sunny Stockwell. The current posts consist of a feed spewing out planning applications from the local authority, re-hashed gumtree ads and good old-fashioned spam.
I can find out more about what's going on here by buying a pint of milk from my local newsagents and catching up with Mr Khan over the counter.
Maybe streetwire just needs a more little time to mature? The micro-blogging ethos behind twitter was terrible upon launch; it was like Facebook status updates on steroids. But then as the critical mass of a UK user base grew, twitter has now become the acceptable face of social media.
I can't help thinking that the very insular, local feel of streetwire is going to restrict it. twitter turns me on in that I can interact with users from down the road, or equally on the other side of the world, without having to pigeon hole them by postcode. Of far more importance is a shared interest, something you can filter by choosing who you follow, and more importantly, allowing which users can follow you.
Reduce this user base to a postcode demographic and you're talking to yourself. Sticking your head out of the window and shouting very loudly would be a better way of interacting on a local level.
I can't quite see the web 2.0 masses of Sunny Stockwell spending their evenings posting SW8 updates to streetwire. If streetwire is to succeed, it is the users that need to take control, and take it away from being what is currently nothing but a local online classified section.
And then there's the distribution of streetwire updates: no RSS, no third-party apps (yet), just a very static web page that doesn't exactly draw me back for frequent F5 refreshes.
The beta version has the option to embed a very basic feed into your blog. But then you might as well litter your site with Google ads, such is the crappy commercial nature of the content.
I really would like for genuine local social media sites to work. The online dialogue with your neighbours is the 2.0 equivalent of the gossip over the garden fence.
But why should local people trust a non-local source to deliver them local information? Perhaps the gossipers over the garden fence would be better off building their own genuine micro-level social media tool?
Nah - Mr Khan's it is then.
Oh, and while we're at it... no more LinkedIn requests please. The last thing I want is a social media network of ex-work colleagues.
technorati: streetwire
| #permalink |
Love at the Five and Dime
'Rita was sixteen years, hazel eyes and chestnut hair,
She made the Woolworth counter shine.
...it's closing time,
And love's on sale, tonight at this five and dime.'
I can't think of a sadder seasonal scene than the scraping of the empty plastic tat barrel in Woolies, SW9, on Saturday afternoon.
I shall miss the old place.
technorati: woolworths
| Sunday 28 December, 2008 |
'Rita was sixteen years, hazel eyes and chestnut hair,
She made the Woolworth counter shine.
...it's closing time,
And love's on sale, tonight at this five and dime.'
I can't think of a sadder seasonal scene than the scraping of the empty plastic tat barrel in Woolies, SW9, on Saturday afternoon.
I shall miss the old place.
technorati: woolworths
| #permalink |
Return to Trentside
I WAS THERE when Brian asked the Gentleman to stop swearing.
I WAS THERE when the bonkers old boy lamped his own fans following a pitch invasion [class footage!]
I WAS EVEN THERE when Sir Des scored his one and only goal for Forest.
And now I can boast that I WAS THERE when a Forest team was not only booed off the pitch at half time, but astonishingly also booed back on the pitch before the start of the second half.
Oh yeah, I WAS ALSO THERE when Colin Calderwood got the sack.
A shocking way to spend your Boxing Day Bank Holiday. I paid £25 for the privilege as well.
A crowd of 26,500, a showpiece game and 3-0 down at halftime. Calderwood's response was to use up his three subs, only to lose another player to injury, and then see out the rest of the game with only ten players on the pitch.
Doncaster were bottom of the league. They have scored one away goal all season, prior to the City Ground Boxing Day Balls Up. It's games like these that get managers the sack, donctha know...
And so who next? Nigel? Psycho? Roy Keane? (cripes.)
It's probably best for me to stay away from the City Ground for another ten years. I have the unfortunate habit of turning up at Forest, and then seeing off the manager.
PLUS: Ten reasons why the #9 should be the next Forest manager:
1. Nigel lives nearby. So does Sue Pollard, but you get the point.
2. That surname affords you an extended managerial honeymoon period, lasting all the way sometime into the next century.
3. Burton are currently on a high. Nigel would be leaving the Brewers on a sound footing.
4. Any other manager without that surname doesn't stand a chance at the City Ground.
5. If we don't get Nigel, then D***y probably will.
6. If it all goes wrong for the Young Man, then the Clough legend around the City Ground will finally have been laid to rest.
7. There's never been a better time for Nigel to take over. Forest were bloody awful on Boxing Day. Things can only get better.
8. He already has a stand with (part of) his name on it.
9. Nigel has a young son. All successful dynasties need a male bloodline.
10. He's a nice young man with a lovely smile.
technorati: nigel clough
| Saturday 27 December, 2008 |
I WAS THERE when Brian asked the Gentleman to stop swearing.
I WAS THERE when the bonkers old boy lamped his own fans following a pitch invasion [class footage!]
I WAS EVEN THERE when Sir Des scored his one and only goal for Forest.
And now I can boast that I WAS THERE when a Forest team was not only booed off the pitch at half time, but astonishingly also booed back on the pitch before the start of the second half.
Oh yeah, I WAS ALSO THERE when Colin Calderwood got the sack.
A shocking way to spend your Boxing Day Bank Holiday. I paid £25 for the privilege as well.
A crowd of 26,500, a showpiece game and 3-0 down at halftime. Calderwood's response was to use up his three subs, only to lose another player to injury, and then see out the rest of the game with only ten players on the pitch.
Doncaster were bottom of the league. They have scored one away goal all season, prior to the City Ground Boxing Day Balls Up. It's games like these that get managers the sack, donctha know...
And so who next? Nigel? Psycho? Roy Keane? (cripes.)
It's probably best for me to stay away from the City Ground for another ten years. I have the unfortunate habit of turning up at Forest, and then seeing off the manager.
PLUS: Ten reasons why the #9 should be the next Forest manager:
1. Nigel lives nearby. So does Sue Pollard, but you get the point.
2. That surname affords you an extended managerial honeymoon period, lasting all the way sometime into the next century.
3. Burton are currently on a high. Nigel would be leaving the Brewers on a sound footing.
4. Any other manager without that surname doesn't stand a chance at the City Ground.
5. If we don't get Nigel, then D***y probably will.
6. If it all goes wrong for the Young Man, then the Clough legend around the City Ground will finally have been laid to rest.
7. There's never been a better time for Nigel to take over. Forest were bloody awful on Boxing Day. Things can only get better.
8. He already has a stand with (part of) his name on it.
9. Nigel has a young son. All successful dynasties need a male bloodline.
10. He's a nice young man with a lovely smile.
technorati: nigel clough
| #permalink |
Flowered Up
'Back over to the East End this week for a well known street that most of us find quite difficult to get out of bed for. Columbia Road is famous for it's flower market. It's quite a spectacle between 8 and 1 on a Sunday - Kew Gardens hits the east end.
It was once home to one Columbia Market, from all accounts a spectacular piece of Victorian over the top architecture, which sadly was left to rack and ruin only to be demolished in the 60's. It's a shame we can't see it today.
The road is a wonderful street of contrasts, with it's trendy shops at one end and finest council houses at the other. There's certainly a lot of character there, even if you don't manage to get there on Market day.'
technorati: columbia market
| Tuesday 23 December, 2008 |
'Back over to the East End this week for a well known street that most of us find quite difficult to get out of bed for. Columbia Road is famous for it's flower market. It's quite a spectacle between 8 and 1 on a Sunday - Kew Gardens hits the east end.
It was once home to one Columbia Market, from all accounts a spectacular piece of Victorian over the top architecture, which sadly was left to rack and ruin only to be demolished in the 60's. It's a shame we can't see it today.
The road is a wonderful street of contrasts, with it's trendy shops at one end and finest council houses at the other. There's certainly a lot of character there, even if you don't manage to get there on Market day.'
technorati: columbia market
| #permalink |
Punk Rock Warlord
Six years ago today? Blimey.
Monday 22nd December, 2003.
With the first anniversary of the death of Joe Strummer looming, now would be a good time to reflect upon the loss of Uncle Joe.
The impact of The Clash is without a doubt momentous in terms of modern music; the whole Punky Reggae Party kicked off over a can of Red Stripe with the boys from underneath the Westway hanging out with the Notting Hill rastas. The ease with which The Clash soaked up influences, notably dub and even hip hop is set in stone. No Garageland, no Bragg; no London Calling, no Manics; no Magnificent Seven, no Basement Jaxx
[that didn't really work, did it?]
Strummer's roaming years post Clash and pre Mescaleros are often forgotten as some extended lost weekend. But his presence and legacy were always there. Playing with the brew crew in support of Class War, goading the Mondays backstage at Glastonbury and remaining thoroughly shambolic yet still dignified. No Clash reunion, no looking back and still no TOTP. Ever.
Uncle Joe's ability to remain in touch with reality and the changing world around him are a reminder as to how false the cult of celebrity is. When a tabloid star is made overnight after some reality TV show s***, now is the time that we really miss Joe Strummer.
Joe's loss was immense to family and fans alike. On a purely artistic level though the real tragedy is that he had got his act together towards the end and left us on a creative high. Recorded during his final few months, Streetcore is the best of his three solo releases and comes close to matching The Clash at their best [um, you sure?] Not the words of someone not wanting to bad mouth the dead, but the truth. Streetcore ROCKS.
The album is tinged with the double irony of featuring another rare untouchable artist who joined Joe this year up in the great Hall of Fame in the sky. Johnny Cash joins Strummer on the album for a cover of Redemption Song. The two men in black achieve almost the impossible of pissing all over the Marley classic. Who else could have got away with this? Save the best till last boys.
I never got to see The Clash and I was always sceptical of all the mythical bulls*** floating around about nights at The Rainbow, Rock Against Racism at Brockwell Park and impromptu busking sessions up and down the country. I did manage to catch Strummer and the Mescaleros however two years ago at the laughably Irish themed Fleadh at Finsbury Park.
Here was a man who was not ashamed of his past but still had something to say. No Pistols pantomime punk - the old classics were still given a 100mph rendition and Strummer was clearly worked up over something. Maybe he was always worked up over something? What a beautiful state to be in. Always believing, never surrendering.
'You cast a long shadow and that is my testament' - Joe Strummer
technorati: joe strummer
| Monday 22 December, 2008 |
Six years ago today? Blimey.
Monday 22nd December, 2003.
With the first anniversary of the death of Joe Strummer looming, now would be a good time to reflect upon the loss of Uncle Joe.
The impact of The Clash is without a doubt momentous in terms of modern music; the whole Punky Reggae Party kicked off over a can of Red Stripe with the boys from underneath the Westway hanging out with the Notting Hill rastas. The ease with which The Clash soaked up influences, notably dub and even hip hop is set in stone. No Garageland, no Bragg; no London Calling, no Manics; no Magnificent Seven, no Basement Jaxx
[that didn't really work, did it?]
Strummer's roaming years post Clash and pre Mescaleros are often forgotten as some extended lost weekend. But his presence and legacy were always there. Playing with the brew crew in support of Class War, goading the Mondays backstage at Glastonbury and remaining thoroughly shambolic yet still dignified. No Clash reunion, no looking back and still no TOTP. Ever.
Uncle Joe's ability to remain in touch with reality and the changing world around him are a reminder as to how false the cult of celebrity is. When a tabloid star is made overnight after some reality TV show s***, now is the time that we really miss Joe Strummer.
Joe's loss was immense to family and fans alike. On a purely artistic level though the real tragedy is that he had got his act together towards the end and left us on a creative high. Recorded during his final few months, Streetcore is the best of his three solo releases and comes close to matching The Clash at their best [um, you sure?] Not the words of someone not wanting to bad mouth the dead, but the truth. Streetcore ROCKS.
The album is tinged with the double irony of featuring another rare untouchable artist who joined Joe this year up in the great Hall of Fame in the sky. Johnny Cash joins Strummer on the album for a cover of Redemption Song. The two men in black achieve almost the impossible of pissing all over the Marley classic. Who else could have got away with this? Save the best till last boys.
I never got to see The Clash and I was always sceptical of all the mythical bulls*** floating around about nights at The Rainbow, Rock Against Racism at Brockwell Park and impromptu busking sessions up and down the country. I did manage to catch Strummer and the Mescaleros however two years ago at the laughably Irish themed Fleadh at Finsbury Park.
Here was a man who was not ashamed of his past but still had something to say. No Pistols pantomime punk - the old classics were still given a 100mph rendition and Strummer was clearly worked up over something. Maybe he was always worked up over something? What a beautiful state to be in. Always believing, never surrendering.
'You cast a long shadow and that is my testament' - Joe Strummer
technorati: joe strummer
| #permalink |
Icicled
Bollocks to that.
Saturday saw the second initiation ceremony of recent times for Icicles of the modern lido era. Come on in - the water'slovely brrrrr!
A blue-sky day for the winter Solstice (well, the day before) and it is mornings like these that make that painful, non-lido winter existence seem almost bearable. The summer months somehow don't seem so far away, and the clock officially starts the countdown for yet another summer season poolside in South London.
The reality of the Icicles '08 was a relatively warm winter dip. Pool temperatures of seven degrees (thirteen for anyone enjoying the mince pies from the surrounds,) hardly fits in with Icicle folklore of old. I had to be restrained from reaching for my factor 40.
I managed a couple of dips, in-between the social catch up with my fellow Brockwell summer friends as we looked ahead to five months time. Fusion was hoping for at least one hundred Icicles this year, with all money raised going to Help the Aged.
Target met, body icicled, mince pies eaten poolside.
It's all downhill from here...
Full flickr pictures over HERE.
Plus: UK Cold Water Swimming Championships at Tooting, 2009 [pdf].
technorati: brockwell icicles
| Sunday 21 December, 2008 |
Bollocks to that.
Saturday saw the second initiation ceremony of recent times for Icicles of the modern lido era. Come on in - the water's
A blue-sky day for the winter Solstice (well, the day before) and it is mornings like these that make that painful, non-lido winter existence seem almost bearable. The summer months somehow don't seem so far away, and the clock officially starts the countdown for yet another summer season poolside in South London.
The reality of the Icicles '08 was a relatively warm winter dip. Pool temperatures of seven degrees (thirteen for anyone enjoying the mince pies from the surrounds,) hardly fits in with Icicle folklore of old. I had to be restrained from reaching for my factor 40.
I managed a couple of dips, in-between the social catch up with my fellow Brockwell summer friends as we looked ahead to five months time. Fusion was hoping for at least one hundred Icicles this year, with all money raised going to Help the Aged.
Target met, body icicled, mince pies eaten poolside.
It's all downhill from here...
Full flickr pictures over HERE.
Plus: UK Cold Water Swimming Championships at Tooting, 2009 [pdf].
technorati: brockwell icicles
| #permalink |
Facelift
The South Lambeth Estate has been changing. Haven't we all.
For almost exactly two years, the wonderful 60's modernism exterior has been hidden away under a giant green fishing net. If it looks bad from the outside looking in, imagine what it must have looked like for the residents living within and looking out.
A team of precisely two workmen (or so it seems) have taken exactly two years to fit double-glazing to all the flats. An Olympic village has been built in a quicker time frame.
And then sometime on Monday morning, just as we entered the season of Festivus, the giant fishing net was unwrapped, leaving a resplendent looking period piece of 60's modernism on the South Lambeth landscape.
Lovely.
I really do love the South Lambeth Estate as a piece of contemporary architecture. Moving to onionbagblog HQ II was largely based on being closer to The Oval; the SLE was a bit of a bonus.
A little love and a minor facelift and the old girl is still going strong. A bit like the dozen or so harlots before my early morning stretch.
technorati: south lambeth estate
| Friday 18 December, 2008 |
The South Lambeth Estate has been changing. Haven't we all.
For almost exactly two years, the wonderful 60's modernism exterior has been hidden away under a giant green fishing net. If it looks bad from the outside looking in, imagine what it must have looked like for the residents living within and looking out.
A team of precisely two workmen (or so it seems) have taken exactly two years to fit double-glazing to all the flats. An Olympic village has been built in a quicker time frame.
And then sometime on Monday morning, just as we entered the season of Festivus, the giant fishing net was unwrapped, leaving a resplendent looking period piece of 60's modernism on the South Lambeth landscape.
Lovely.
I really do love the South Lambeth Estate as a piece of contemporary architecture. Moving to onionbagblog HQ II was largely based on being closer to The Oval; the SLE was a bit of a bonus.
A little love and a minor facelift and the old girl is still going strong. A bit like the dozen or so harlots before my early morning stretch.
technorati: south lambeth estate
| #permalink |
Chapeau!
Brilliant mid-winter sunlight, early morning and the roads of South London stretching ahead. What more could you want?
Um, a carbon nanotube frame, rather than my fixie, would be nice for a start.
Le Col de Crystal Palace is my favourite South London climb. It pisses all over Lordship Lane (and the local population,) makes Brixton Hill seem like a little bump; Battersea Rise is a BMX ramp in comparison.
I climb Le Col de CPwhenever I have delusions that I am the South London King of the Mountain as a regular training ride. It forms a decent circular stretch if you approach it from the Brockwell Park end of Croxted Road, and then take your decent back down Central Hill and through to Brixton.
I'm not quite as quick as I use to be. I put that down to developing a Chris Hoy style velo build (lard arse) rather than a whippet like mountain climber figure.
Still, a decent climb, and one that I win every time when 'racing' with the fragrant mrs onionbagblogger by my side.
Chapeau!
technorati: le col de crystal palace
| Wednesday 17 December, 2008 |
Brilliant mid-winter sunlight, early morning and the roads of South London stretching ahead. What more could you want?
Um, a carbon nanotube frame, rather than my fixie, would be nice for a start.
Le Col de Crystal Palace is my favourite South London climb. It pisses all over Lordship Lane (and the local population,) makes Brixton Hill seem like a little bump; Battersea Rise is a BMX ramp in comparison.
I climb Le Col de CP
I'm not quite as quick as I use to be. I put that down to developing a Chris Hoy style velo build (lard arse) rather than a whippet like mountain climber figure.
Still, a decent climb, and one that I win every time when 'racing' with the fragrant mrs onionbagblogger by my side.
Chapeau!
technorati: le col de crystal palace
| #permalink |
Goofy
It wasn't a wise idea to schedule a two-hour dental appointment (ouch!) to coincide with major roadworks along Brixton Road. Cycling through SW9, and I almost turned back before I hit the Rec, defeated by the roadside drills reminding me of what was to come.
But the small matter of £200 paid upfront somehow saw me all the way up Brixton Hill for my mid-afternoon rendez vouz with the Drill Mistress.
No pain, no gain, Madam.
I'm usually a good boy when it comes to my teeth. I value the taste of raw rhubarb too much to let my molars go to ruin. A check up twice a year, and a quick spit and polish from the Drill Mistress, simply to disguise the stains that come with twenty cups of PG Tips a day.
But the bi-annual check up at the start of the month came as a bit of a shock:
Replacing the gold crown fitted some thirteen years ago when I first arrived in Brixton, two fillings and an X-ray. Plus the usual spit and polish.
And so Tuesday afternoon, and there I was, all ready to sit back and relax. Why is it that EVERY dentist has a TV tuned into mind numbing daytime TV crap? Pay attention to my teeth, oh Mistress of the Drill!
But the Lady of the Mask was in no mood for foreplay today. Neither was her Spittle-Sucking Assistant. I was invited to sit down in the chair (um, nah - I'd rather stand...) and I could see straight away that this was SERIOUS business. I was booked in for the duration, and that duration was precisely two hours. Smiles were few and far between. Not with teeth like that, mate.
First the injection, and then an entire afternoon and early evening out for the count. Well, the left side of my jaw, anyway. It's the strangest of all body sensations (and I've felt some strange bodies in my time.) Totally numb, and unable to drink my life away with PG Tips. Maybe that's the whole point?
We then passed away the best part of an hour trying to remove the old gold crown. I think the blokes back outside the Rec had more success removing half the paving around SW9. Crowns are stuck down with cement for a reason - to keep them firmly in place.
The Drill Mistress was almost ready for the bolt cutters, but then an extra powerful suction from the Spittle-Sucking Assistant and I had it off, so to speak.
I was fitted out for the new crown, and then given a temporary plastic one until next week. I feel like a King that is halfway to his Coronation. Don't forget the extra strong cement used to attach the temporary crown, just so that we can go through the whole painful process once again next week.
I was then asked to 'take a quick rinse' of the mystery dental drink (what do they put in that?) And then with a mouth feeling like I had just gone ten rounds with Ricky Hatton, I was unable to spit it out without having half the fluid dribble down my chin.
Not the kind of image I wanted to impress the Drill Mistress, or her spittle-sucking assistant with.
Same again next week. Christmas Eve, actually.
All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth, etc.
technorati: dentist
| Tuesday 16 December, 2008 |
It wasn't a wise idea to schedule a two-hour dental appointment (ouch!) to coincide with major roadworks along Brixton Road. Cycling through SW9, and I almost turned back before I hit the Rec, defeated by the roadside drills reminding me of what was to come.
But the small matter of £200 paid upfront somehow saw me all the way up Brixton Hill for my mid-afternoon rendez vouz with the Drill Mistress.
No pain, no gain, Madam.
I'm usually a good boy when it comes to my teeth. I value the taste of raw rhubarb too much to let my molars go to ruin. A check up twice a year, and a quick spit and polish from the Drill Mistress, simply to disguise the stains that come with twenty cups of PG Tips a day.
But the bi-annual check up at the start of the month came as a bit of a shock:
Replacing the gold crown fitted some thirteen years ago when I first arrived in Brixton, two fillings and an X-ray. Plus the usual spit and polish.
And so Tuesday afternoon, and there I was, all ready to sit back and relax. Why is it that EVERY dentist has a TV tuned into mind numbing daytime TV crap? Pay attention to my teeth, oh Mistress of the Drill!
But the Lady of the Mask was in no mood for foreplay today. Neither was her Spittle-Sucking Assistant. I was invited to sit down in the chair (um, nah - I'd rather stand...) and I could see straight away that this was SERIOUS business. I was booked in for the duration, and that duration was precisely two hours. Smiles were few and far between. Not with teeth like that, mate.
First the injection, and then an entire afternoon and early evening out for the count. Well, the left side of my jaw, anyway. It's the strangest of all body sensations (and I've felt some strange bodies in my time.) Totally numb, and unable to drink my life away with PG Tips. Maybe that's the whole point?
We then passed away the best part of an hour trying to remove the old gold crown. I think the blokes back outside the Rec had more success removing half the paving around SW9. Crowns are stuck down with cement for a reason - to keep them firmly in place.
The Drill Mistress was almost ready for the bolt cutters, but then an extra powerful suction from the Spittle-Sucking Assistant and I had it off, so to speak.
I was fitted out for the new crown, and then given a temporary plastic one until next week. I feel like a King that is halfway to his Coronation. Don't forget the extra strong cement used to attach the temporary crown, just so that we can go through the whole painful process once again next week.
I was then asked to 'take a quick rinse' of the mystery dental drink (what do they put in that?) And then with a mouth feeling like I had just gone ten rounds with Ricky Hatton, I was unable to spit it out without having half the fluid dribble down my chin.
Not the kind of image I wanted to impress the Drill Mistress, or her spittle-sucking assistant with.
Same again next week. Christmas Eve, actually.
All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth, etc.
technorati: dentist
| #permalink |
Makin' Hay
A building this week rather than a road or street. The Hayward Gallery is quite some building though, provoking heated emotions not only with the art that it show-cases, but as a piece of architecture itself. It was opened just a month after I was born in 1968 and was designed in the brutalist manner by Sir Hubert Bennett. It is named after Sir Isaac Hayward, a former leader of the London County Council.
It has showed some incredible art in it's lifetime and lets hope you'll find it a fascinating place to create art of. As there's not a specific street, any shot which includes the building is permissible.'
Plus here's the bike ride from Clap'ham Manor Street to the South Bank - Sunny Southside all the way, Baby.
technorati: hayward gallery
| Friday 12 December, 2008 |
A building this week rather than a road or street. The Hayward Gallery is quite some building though, provoking heated emotions not only with the art that it show-cases, but as a piece of architecture itself. It was opened just a month after I was born in 1968 and was designed in the brutalist manner by Sir Hubert Bennett. It is named after Sir Isaac Hayward, a former leader of the London County Council.
It has showed some incredible art in it's lifetime and lets hope you'll find it a fascinating place to create art of. As there's not a specific street, any shot which includes the building is permissible.'
Plus here's the bike ride from Clap'ham Manor Street to the South Bank - Sunny Southside all the way, Baby.
technorati: hayward gallery
| #permalink |
Turn on
I am a liberated man. Or more to the point, my iMac and MacBook have both been liberated from the poxy service provided by the Pipex knobbers. My Asus Eee is even smiling (although not too broadly with that hardware spec,) safe in the knowledge that the last kbs from Pipex have passed down the line.
After almost eight years of taking my custom, the six weeks over the summer months when I was offline was just taking the p***. I rode out the two free months compensation paid by Pipex, and banked the cheque we agreed upon for my loss of earnings.
I must admit that I was rather reluctant to ask for my MAC code this morning. The service works (sort of,) and I'm not looking forward to any period of downtime during the switchover.
But a summer of stress (and lost earnings) was just pants from Pipex. It really would have been rather silly of me to keep on paying the fools, after the total disregard for me as a customer during July.
So yep, phone call made, MAC code sourced.
Not surprisingly my request was dealt with immediately when I said I wanted to switch providers. The Pipex chap tried to talk me out of it, but like a crestfallen commuter trying to jump on the rails of the Piccadilly Line, Pipex and I are a lost cause. I needed to make that move.
'Can I ask Sir why he wants to switch providers?' asked the Pipex chap.
...something to do with spending six weeks of the summer offline, a different excuse every day and then finally when I was back online, you sent a BT bod round to disconnect me once again.
'Oh, I see, Sir...'
I'll probably be stung with a direct debit charge until the end of December, but my patience really can't be bothered to argue over a few pounds with Pipex. It's a small price to pay to be rid of such a shoddy service.
It has been a rapid decline since the Tiscali takeover. What was once a genuinely independent and well-run ISP, has now become a couldn't give a toss offshoot from Tiscali. New packages are introduced to entice new customers, without a second thought for loyal Pipex users stuck on their original over-priced contracts. Customer service requires the ability to speak Cantonese, and the speed rates (8mbps my offline arse) are utter s***.
And so here be, erm, be*.
I've heard nothing but praise for be*, although like all ISP's, ultimately it will be a victim of its own success. The network won't be able to stand the increase in users, and speeds will suffer.
Pessimistic, me?
That's what a summer of dealing with the Pipex knobbers does for you.
technorati: pipex knobbers
| Thursday 11 December, 2008 |
I am a liberated man. Or more to the point, my iMac and MacBook have both been liberated from the poxy service provided by the Pipex knobbers. My Asus Eee is even smiling (although not too broadly with that hardware spec,) safe in the knowledge that the last kbs from Pipex have passed down the line.
After almost eight years of taking my custom, the six weeks over the summer months when I was offline was just taking the p***. I rode out the two free months compensation paid by Pipex, and banked the cheque we agreed upon for my loss of earnings.
I must admit that I was rather reluctant to ask for my MAC code this morning. The service works (sort of,) and I'm not looking forward to any period of downtime during the switchover.
But a summer of stress (and lost earnings) was just pants from Pipex. It really would have been rather silly of me to keep on paying the fools, after the total disregard for me as a customer during July.
So yep, phone call made, MAC code sourced.
Not surprisingly my request was dealt with immediately when I said I wanted to switch providers. The Pipex chap tried to talk me out of it, but like a crestfallen commuter trying to jump on the rails of the Piccadilly Line, Pipex and I are a lost cause. I needed to make that move.
'Can I ask Sir why he wants to switch providers?' asked the Pipex chap.
...something to do with spending six weeks of the summer offline, a different excuse every day and then finally when I was back online, you sent a BT bod round to disconnect me once again.
'Oh, I see, Sir...'
I'll probably be stung with a direct debit charge until the end of December, but my patience really can't be bothered to argue over a few pounds with Pipex. It's a small price to pay to be rid of such a shoddy service.
It has been a rapid decline since the Tiscali takeover. What was once a genuinely independent and well-run ISP, has now become a couldn't give a toss offshoot from Tiscali. New packages are introduced to entice new customers, without a second thought for loyal Pipex users stuck on their original over-priced contracts. Customer service requires the ability to speak Cantonese, and the speed rates (8mbps my offline arse) are utter s***.
And so here be, erm, be*.
I've heard nothing but praise for be*, although like all ISP's, ultimately it will be a victim of its own success. The network won't be able to stand the increase in users, and speeds will suffer.
Pessimistic, me?
That's what a summer of dealing with the Pipex knobbers does for you.
technorati: pipex knobbers
| #permalink |
links for 2008-12-10
'bowled, Shane!
Have to admit I'll miss Warnie over the summer months. Cheers to GGF for the heads up.
Taking the p***
P*** poor toilet provision from Lambeth Council, prostituting out local 'businesses with benefits.'
Vauxhall - hell on earth
Wonderful prose from Andrew Collins, describing the painful experience that is picking up a parcel from DHL in Vauxhall. I suffered the same fate as Collins some eight years ago. I vowed never to return, and would rather write off a diverted delivery from DHL. Seems that the place hasn't improved. Avoid.
technorati: warnie, lambeth council, crap DHL
'bowled, Shane!Have to admit I'll miss Warnie over the summer months. Cheers to GGF for the heads up.
Taking the p***P*** poor toilet provision from Lambeth Council, prostituting out local 'businesses with benefits.'
Vauxhall - hell on earthWonderful prose from Andrew Collins, describing the painful experience that is picking up a parcel from DHL in Vauxhall. I suffered the same fate as Collins some eight years ago. I vowed never to return, and would rather write off a diverted delivery from DHL. Seems that the place hasn't improved. Avoid.
technorati: warnie, lambeth council, crap DHL
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Solid Bond
'It's that time of the year again when we all empty our pockets in the name of celebration. Yes Christmas is once more around the corner. In these credit crunch times I can't think of a better place to go and see how the other half live, than Bond Street. Crazy people spending far too much money is ridiculously overpriced shops.
Named after Sir Thomas Bond it's an old street (even shown fully built on Rocque's map.) You might be a bit confused with the road signs as it's actually a street of two halves - New and Old - although most people just call it plain old Bond. The top half is antique shops and posh shops. The bottom mostly posh shops. There's an interesting street bench with statues of FDR and Churchill.
For me it's the people that make this street, although do look up as there is some incredible architecture on show. It's always busy and if you're very unlucky you might even spot a celeb. Just look for the enormous bouncer with ear piece standing alert outside of an incredibly expensive car parked on double yellows.'
Plus here's the bike ride from the City over to the West End. A bit busy as it was shot on the same day as the State Opening of Parliament.
technorati: bond street, west end
| Tuesday 9 December, 2008 |
'It's that time of the year again when we all empty our pockets in the name of celebration. Yes Christmas is once more around the corner. In these credit crunch times I can't think of a better place to go and see how the other half live, than Bond Street. Crazy people spending far too much money is ridiculously overpriced shops.
Named after Sir Thomas Bond it's an old street (even shown fully built on Rocque's map.) You might be a bit confused with the road signs as it's actually a street of two halves - New and Old - although most people just call it plain old Bond. The top half is antique shops and posh shops. The bottom mostly posh shops. There's an interesting street bench with statues of FDR and Churchill.
For me it's the people that make this street, although do look up as there is some incredible architecture on show. It's always busy and if you're very unlucky you might even spot a celeb. Just look for the enormous bouncer with ear piece standing alert outside of an incredibly expensive car parked on double yellows.'
Plus here's the bike ride from the City over to the West End. A bit busy as it was shot on the same day as the State Opening of Parliament.
technorati: bond street, west end
| #permalink |
Sitting on the Fence
Get orf my land, etc.
The fence around our property was put up over the summer. I then spent the best part of two weeks lovingly varnishing it. And now our neighbours next door have an identical stretch of fencing, also boasting the trademark touch of Pete the Splinter, the finest carpenter in South London.
Despite sounding that I should be taking up my place at the Daily Mail Ideal Home Show, this post isn't about property outdoor furniture tips. Sadly it's a Them and Us story about how to keep the SW8 Booze Crew Old Boys away from obb HQ II.
Sunny Stockwell can be a very social area - sometimes slightly too social. Having a garden wall just below waist height makes for an ideal resting place to discuss the issues of the day with your pals, as you crack open your tenth can of Carlsberg. All before midday as well.
Short of erecting spikes along the garden wall (it was considered,) the bench is a covert way of saying 'clear off!' to the SW8 Booze Crew Old Boys. It's worked for the past six months on my side of the fence. Predictably the problem has only been shifted elsewhere. Next door to be precise.
I quite like the SW8 Booze Crew Old Boys. They have some great stories to tell. It's just that I don't want to hear these stories at two in the morning, especially so during the summer months when the bedroom window is open.
Don't forget all the discarded beer cans, and the general feeling that without a fence, your front garden doubles up as a makeshift after hours drinking den.
It reminds me of the Glasto territorial mentality that inflicts the liberal, freethinking festivalgoers around Pilton each summer. Peace, Love and Understanding, etc, but the first thing the hippy kids do when they set foot of Farmer Eavis' land is to put up a bloody fence around their tent to keep others out.
With a Caribbean culture of outdoor social street drinking, the Booze Crew Old Boys complain that they haven't got anywhere else to go. Kennington Park is locked up at dust, and the nearest public bench is back down the Clap'ham Road towards Stockwell tube.
Um, how about opening up your next can of Carlsberg at home?
Your home, not mine.
I'll be burning local witches at the stake next week.
technorati: booze crew
| Monday 8 December, 2008 |
Get orf my land, etc.
The fence around our property was put up over the summer. I then spent the best part of two weeks lovingly varnishing it. And now our neighbours next door have an identical stretch of fencing, also boasting the trademark touch of Pete the Splinter, the finest carpenter in South London.
Despite sounding that I should be taking up my place at the Daily Mail Ideal Home Show, this post isn't about property outdoor furniture tips. Sadly it's a Them and Us story about how to keep the SW8 Booze Crew Old Boys away from obb HQ II.
Sunny Stockwell can be a very social area - sometimes slightly too social. Having a garden wall just below waist height makes for an ideal resting place to discuss the issues of the day with your pals, as you crack open your tenth can of Carlsberg. All before midday as well.
Short of erecting spikes along the garden wall (it was considered,) the bench is a covert way of saying 'clear off!' to the SW8 Booze Crew Old Boys. It's worked for the past six months on my side of the fence. Predictably the problem has only been shifted elsewhere. Next door to be precise.
I quite like the SW8 Booze Crew Old Boys. They have some great stories to tell. It's just that I don't want to hear these stories at two in the morning, especially so during the summer months when the bedroom window is open.
Don't forget all the discarded beer cans, and the general feeling that without a fence, your front garden doubles up as a makeshift after hours drinking den.
It reminds me of the Glasto territorial mentality that inflicts the liberal, freethinking festivalgoers around Pilton each summer. Peace, Love and Understanding, etc, but the first thing the hippy kids do when they set foot of Farmer Eavis' land is to put up a bloody fence around their tent to keep others out.
With a Caribbean culture of outdoor social street drinking, the Booze Crew Old Boys complain that they haven't got anywhere else to go. Kennington Park is locked up at dust, and the nearest public bench is back down the Clap'ham Road towards Stockwell tube.
Um, how about opening up your next can of Carlsberg at home?
Your home, not mine.
I'll be burning local witches at the stake next week.
technorati: booze crew
| #permalink |
Heel, boy
Cannon street is one of the longer City roads, running from St.Pauls to London Bridge. It was once named after the candlemakers who worked along it's route, and that name was corrupted to give us todays name. It's one of those streets that is undergoing a transformation and so it's nice to capture it now as things are changing.
If you have time take a chance to wander off into some of the side streets – there are some really interesting little bits and pieces to see, and you never know they might turn up here at some later date (hint, hint.)
A trip to Cannon Street isn't complete unless you visit one of London's oldest and little known relics, the London Stone. An unassuming piece of limestone, there are many a tale told of it's history from it being a roman milestone to the stone which Arthur pulled Excalibur from. Whatever it's history it was used as a meeting point where important news and laws of the day were proclaimed from. You'll find it at 111.'
Plus here's the ride from Brixton to EC4:
technorati: canon street
| Sunday 7 December, 2008 |
Cannon street is one of the longer City roads, running from St.Pauls to London Bridge. It was once named after the candlemakers who worked along it's route, and that name was corrupted to give us todays name. It's one of those streets that is undergoing a transformation and so it's nice to capture it now as things are changing.
If you have time take a chance to wander off into some of the side streets – there are some really interesting little bits and pieces to see, and you never know they might turn up here at some later date (hint, hint.)
A trip to Cannon Street isn't complete unless you visit one of London's oldest and little known relics, the London Stone. An unassuming piece of limestone, there are many a tale told of it's history from it being a roman milestone to the stone which Arthur pulled Excalibur from. Whatever it's history it was used as a meeting point where important news and laws of the day were proclaimed from. You'll find it at 111.'
Plus here's the ride from Brixton to EC4:
technorati: canon street
| #permalink |
