I’m melting! MELTIIIIIIIIIIIING!

Well, actually I’m not melting, that’s a very silly title but it’s always made me laugh and it was the first thing that just came into my head…

Yesterday London became just a little bit smaller for me. I decided to take Claudia out for a ride. I was up early and had a nice breakfast (Peanut butter on toast – smooth peanut butter obviously, anything else is unnatural!) and a nice cup of tea and then I was out of the flat and then Claudia and I were whizzing down the road.

I didn’t know where I wanted to go. I just needed to get out of the flat. I headed towards Chiswick and decided to go somewhere I’d never been on my bike before. So once past Chiswick, I came to Hammersmith. Now the Hammersmith island one-way system is not easy to use in a car (I know because I’ve driven around it many times) but on a bike, it’s a very scary place. I also suddenly realised why I see so many cyclists in London wearing masks on their faces when riding. A few times I took in lung-fulls of exhaust fumes that really shocked me and make me choke. Once negoitated, I came to Kensington. Wow. I’d never ridden this far before but I was still wanting to go on. Traffic started to increase, along with the noise and numbers of people and I suddenly realised that I was in Knightsbridge. The traffic around here was very heavy and I had trouble squeezing through gaps between the vehicles and the kerbs. I managed to stay my ground though.

After riding a little longer I was astounded to discover I was at Hyde Park Corner. I stopped at Apsley House and wondered if I should try and make it to the other side of London. I decided not to as I really didn’t know where to go and the numbers of people out for a walk or shop on Sunday meant that I’d have a very difficult time pushing my bike along the pavement if I wanted to mill around. So I decided to go home and check on a map to see how far I’d come and how I’d get to other places of notes on future riding trips. It took me about 50 minutes to ride to Apsley House.

I’m so glad I turned around when I did as when I got back home I realised that I was very tired and thought my legs would go from under me. I had tried to put some effort in on the way back, even so, I only did it in about 50 minutes again. I put this down to getting lost on the Hammersmith one-way system and having to dismount and walk my bike around to the other side of the central island.

I checked on the RAC Route Planner web-site (the one I always use) and found that the route I’d taken was 8.3 miles. Now that may not seem like a lot but I’ve never ridden that distance before and certainly not on busy London roads and my level of fitness isn’t that good meaning that my 16 mile round trip left me feeling quite proud of myself.

I almost came off my bike three times, each time involving pedestrians. When a pedestrian wants to cross a usually busy road, seeing a gap in traffic and an opportunity to cross seems to render pedestrians blind to cyclists, so they quickly move to cross a road only to see a cyclist at the point of stepping off the kerb – at which point, I learned VERY quickly,to have my fingers on the brake and ready to shout ‘OI!’

Whilst cycling through Kensington, a pedestrian moving in the same direction as me and just up ahead, not wanting to wade through the masses of people on the footpath decided to step off the kerb and walk in the road, of course not looking before doing so – I nearly hit him.

I cannot get angry at him though. I do this all the time as I walk faster than most people and dislike being held up. I’m really not sure if I look every time before I step into the road.

*note to self – you will be more vigilant in future*

16 miles though! Cor blimey guv’nor!

Smiley Lix

It’s the 25th December!

Yes, it’s the 25th December, it’s 10.30 (ish), it’s raining, it’s very windy and I’m blogging.

I’m going to go for a walk along the Thames and get soaking wet. Woohoo!

ews+++pigeon news+++pigeon news+++pigeon news++

Pigeons in London are cheeky bastards.

During my first four months here I been dived bombed by two pigeons and wing-whacked in the face by a pigeon attempting to get air borne! They are very daring – this is probably why nobbled pigeons are a common sight. I have so far seen two pigeons with a stump for a leg.

Yesterday on the Hammersmith and City Line, I saw the train doors open and a pigeon fly out and into the train about to go in the opposite direction! Now that’s class surely? If it’s a lucky pigeon, it’ll be able to yum up some McDonalds that idle skinjobs have left. If it’s unlucky, it’ll only get one of thousands of Metro newspapers to read. Or perhaps of course, it was just wanting a lift into the City.

If it’s VERY unlucky, it’ll get on the same train as the Mancunian builder

‘Fookin ‘ell, there’s one of them funny flyin’ fings on a fookin train!’

M’on a rail.

Sitting on the Tube yesterday heading home, I overheard (well I say ‘overheard’, it was more like, ‘couldn’t help but hear) a man talking into his phone.

I got on the Tube and it was standing room only. The man in question was standing too at the other end of the carriage. He was wearing big dust covered boots, obviously from a building site, yellow jacket over a big coat. He was a construction worker – you know the type!

As the carriage emptied, we both sought seats at the same time. He saw a seat and walked casually towards it but it was quickly filled up by boarding commuters. This caused the man to swear under his breath. He clearly thought that as he’d been standing he had a right to sit down. He clearly didn’t know how the Tube works. There is no etiquette of use on the Tube, it’s every person for themselves.

In the end he sat next to me, slumped in the seat with his legs so far apart I thought he was doing the splits.

Then he got out his phone, dialled a number and began speaking into it, revealing a very deep voice and extremely broad Mancunian accent.

‘I’m on that fookin funny train fing, man.’

‘You know, that fookin London train.’

‘Yeah, the fookin train that goes underground, man.’

I know. Incredible isn’t it?

I related the story to E, who gleefully suggested that Transport for London has a new slogan at last:

TRANSPORT FOR LONDON

TRAVEL ON OUR FOOKIN’ FUNNY TRAIN FINGS

Similarly, I propose one for Manchester:

TRAVEL ON OUR FOOKIN’ FUNNY TRAM FINGS

Thanks E. I’m still chuckling over that.

Down down, deeper on down.

Whilst lazing in bed one morning last week listening to the news and hoping to catch some info on which Underground lines were out of action that particular morning (There’s always one) there was an item in the travel section where the reporter announced ‘The Blackwall Tunnel is closed this morning for emergency pot-hole repairs!

‘EMERGENCY POT-HOLE REPAIRS?’ Lordy lorks! This made me laugh out loud.

‘Hello, can I take your name please?’

‘Yeah, it’s Bill, Bill Wibblenib.’

‘And your address?’

’37 Brumble Gardens, London. Please hurry, this is an emergency!’

‘Okay sir, please bear with me – which emergency service do you require?’

‘Pot Hole Repair!’

‘Can you give me some details of the nature of the emergency?’

‘Yeah course I can. I was coming through the Blackwall tunnel and I nearly came a cropper I did. Theres something…..’

‘Sir, are you still there?’

‘Yeah, yeah, I was just overcome….there’s something down there and it almost ‘ad me for dinner. I narrowly missed it.’

‘And this was, sir?’

‘A pot-hole! Biggest one I’ve ever seen. I’m sure I saw……….things……………at the bottom, it was big, very big!’

‘Sir, I’ve dispatched an emergency team right away, they should be with you shortly, try to stay calm and if you can, try to prevent any more vehicles going into the tunnel’.

‘Well, ‘ow the bloody ‘ell am I supposed to do that? Run in the road with me semaphore flags?!’

‘Sir, this is no time for sarcasm!’

‘Oh, that comes later does it?’

‘Please settle down’.

‘Well, I’m seeing vehicles go in, but I’m not seeing any come out!’

‘Sir, the emergency team is about two minutes out, I’ve also called out the fire rescue and ambulance teams.’

‘Ooh, I can hear some sirens in the distance, this must be them, yes, yes, I can see them.’

-

‘Are you the fellow who called the Team?’

‘Err, yes, yes, that was me. My name’s Bill, I was driving through the tun…’

‘Yes? And what happened?’

‘Well, if you’d let me finish, I’ll tell you! Christ!

‘It’s Phil actually!

‘Fill? – F, I double L? ‘Cause that’d be a fantastic name for someone who deals with potholes.’

‘It’s PHIL idiot!’

‘Phil Idiot? That’s an even better name, best I’ve heard in a while if truth be told!’

I am Commander Phil Buttocks, Head of HM’s Hole and Cavity Research – you can call me Commander.’

‘I’d rather call you Idiot!’

‘What was that?’

‘Nothing, nothing.’

‘Commander?

‘Yes Captain, have the teams been prepared for entry?’

‘Yes sir.’

‘Okay, let’s go. Tell the men to keep their eyes open.’

-

‘Sure is dark in this tunnel Commander.’

‘Yes, Captain, that’s because it’s a tunnel!’

‘Right you are sir. Sir! There’s appears to be a dark spot, just over there sir. Can you see it?

‘I can, yes Captain, lets approach, with caution. Inform the men.’

Men! We’re coming on something which appears darker than the surrounding ambient levels, lets approach with caution!’

‘How about we approach with wild abandon, pillock!’

‘What was that Sergeant?’

‘Nothing. Nothing sir.’

‘Very good Sergeant, inform the men under no circumstances are they to use torches. Night vision goggles only.’

‘Y’sir.’

-

‘Can you see anything Commander?’

‘OH MY GOD!’

‘What is it sir?’

‘I think this is a Class Five Hole Captain, maybe bigger! This is serious, we’d better inform the Prime Minister.’

‘Prime Minister Sir? Likes holes does he?’

‘This is no time for flippancy Captain, This hole is becoming a pot black hole.’

‘No!’

‘Yes Captain, yes!’

‘You mean..?’

‘Yes, it’s already destroyed large tracts of the tunnel within it’s event horizon, look! That explains why no vehicles have been seen exiting the tunnel.’

‘I wonder how many vehicles it can fit it?’

‘That’s entirely academic Captain, it’s entire mass will fit into a point of singularity with no mass.’

‘Could that explain where all London’s water goes to every year sir?’

‘It could do Captain, it could do. Tell the men to stand down.’

‘But sir…’

‘Just do it Captain.’

‘But what will we do Commander?’

‘I’ll recommend to the PM that we just build over it and hope no one notices. It’s a tried and trusted London policy. We’ll have to give it some name of course such as ‘Urban Regeneration’. Come on, lets go home, we’re missing X-Factor’.

What we did on our holidays.

Been a busy couple of weeks for Lix. Week off away from work, then one day back on Monday and then on a four-day first aid course. I’ve done three days so far.

Last Monday I went to the Tate Britain and the London Museum. I went to the Tate first. Left the flat at about 9.15, got the train to Vauxhall, crossed Vauxhall Bridge, turned right and made the short walk to the Tate in about 10 minutes and arrived at the entrance at 09.50. The Tate opens at 10.00 so I milled around until it opened.

The Turner Prize retrospective was on and I really wanted to see it. It cost £11 to get in but hey, it was SO worth it. I love some of the work to view and the Tate have chosen well on what work to display. Or I should say that I’m happy with the works they’ve displayed.

The only thing that spoilt it a little for me was a party of school children came in. BAH! Of course as soon as they came in they all ran for Hirst’s ‘Mother and Child Divided’ and proceeded to cackle loudly all around it.

I must admit though that I found it fascinating. I’d never previously seen these works in a gallery and one or two pieces simply made me stare in awe. Of course Gilbert and George’s massive piece ‘Drunk with God’ dominates much of the space in the gallery and I think the Tate have done well to segment the rest of the pieces so that they occupy their own spaces and the eye isn’t drawn towards G & G’s visually attractive piece:

Anish Kapoor’s ‘Untitled – Sandstone and pigment’ I found riveting and returned to it twice and stood at the centre of the blue parabolic bowls attached to the walls and thought long about how when stood at a certain place, they didn’t look like bowls and the pigment was used in such a way that the light didn’t give the bowls any sort of depth and so they looked shapeless. Brilliant!

The stand out piece for me though in this collection and in my opinion, the best piece of work that that Turner prize has ‘discovered’ was Martin Creed’s ‘The Lights Going on and off’.

This is nothing more than a light going on and off alternately for five seconds in an empty room. First, no light, then dim light, then bright light. I find this work to be amazing! It asks all the questions about art that I want to ask of it myself – namely, the relationship between, individual, gallery, artist and space.

Does displaying a ‘piece’ in a gallery make it art? If so, who decides? Do the gallery owners decide what art is and then the public have to follow suit and regard it as art? Similarly, does displaying something in a small room make it different to placing it a large room? And what if the surrounding walls (if there are any) are different coloured? What does this say about the piece? I’m sure Kapoor’s bowls wouldn’t have such the same effect if they were in a room red, or a blue room. Is there a distanced aesthetic that only those educated in art history can use to gauge a piece’s worth?

Of course at one time, it was thought that this was the only way to look at art – to judge a piece with total objectivity. I believe this method falls down when confronted with works such as Robert Mapplethorpe’s Jim and Tom – depicting a man urinating into another man’s mouth or Andre Serrano’s ‘Piss Christ’ which is a photo of Christ on the cross, placed in the artist’s own urine:

How could you look at these pieces objectively without having an emotional reaction to them?

So Martin Creed’s lights were for me the main attraction at the Tate Retrospective and gave me pause to think about the role of space and my place in it. I might go back in a few week’s time and have another mill around.

Wow, this has been a comparatively thoughtful blog from me today. Right, musn’t let that happen too often.

Tooth Hurty

I just heard this joke – it’s very bad but made me chortle:

A buddhist at his local dentist refused an anaesthetic for his root-canal because he wanted to transcend dental medication.

Haha!

We’ll ride upon an omnibus and then the casino..

In my own little world on Saturday morning going to E’s, I was staring out of the window when I read a sign in a cafe window which said

‘Borderline

Food’

After half a second or so, my brain registered what I’d read and I looked back at the sign only to discover that it actually said:

‘Order Food

Online’

I was quite disappointed although I did chuckle to myself!

It’s my Birthday today!

Wow, yes it’s my Birthday and I’m a happy Lix. I’ve had a lovely lovely weekend.

I decided on Saturday morning, whilst lying in bed at about 7.30 to go to Coventry, possibly for only a few hours to see D, E and S but ended up staying the night.

On Saturday we stayed in and ordered Pizza and then played cards. I was introduced to a new game called Shithead. Yes, really. As you can probably tell, my friends and I are a classy bunch! For Shithead you have to use two packs of cards. There’s a bunch of simple rules. Each games lasted about 20 minutes or so and we played eight games. We would have played more but quite frankly we got bored of D losing all the time (six out of the eight games – including the first four – heehee!) Actually, we weren’t bored, we all found it simply high-larious realising that D has the tactical nous of some petit pois.

Coming back to London today on the train was nice. Some engineering works near Birmingham meant that the train couldn’t stop and pick up passengers there. Usually it’s packed with people travelling from New Street to Euston so I was preparing for the worst. I was very pleased when I was met with an empty carriage (save one person). Yay! As the train was only stopping at Rugby and Milton Keynes, the passenger pick up was only about six people in my carriage. Woohoo. What’s more, I was lucky enough to sit by the ‘restaurant’ and so about five minutes into my journey I got a nice black coffee and opened my book – Madam Bovary. I literally finished the last paragraph of the book as the train was pulling in to Euston Station – at about 12.25. I didn’t feel like going home just yet so I got the Northern Line tube to Leicester Square and had a walk up Tottenham Court Road to see what I could see. I saw lots of humans. I decided to go home. I got the tube back to Leicester Square and changed to the Piccadily Line there and went to Hammersmith. I had a wander around the shops and little but as it’s so near Christmas, the shops were even more packed than normal and I needed to escape from the hordes who don’t walk as fast as I do (always annoying). My last journey was back at Hammersmith Station, getting the 267 back to Brentford and alighting by McDonalds to get some food.

I’m now lovely and clean after having a long soak.

Thank you everyone for your lovely texts and pressies. C – I’ve eaten yours already, YUM! Cheers.

I just wanted to post something on my Birthday as it’s not many times in your life that you can actually say ‘It’s my Birthday’. Maybe over 90 times if we’re lucky?!

I have a week off work next week. WOOHOO!