Archive for the 'Britain' Category

Twenty Tweets From the North

Thursday, April 2nd, 2009

What are you doing? In 140 characters or less.

1) March 25, 9am. Been at Manchester Airport all of ten minutes and one airport worker ruminates to another: “There’s nothing as queer as folk.” Really!

2) March 25, 2pm. What am I doing? Sleeping. I have transatlantic travel down. Take the red-eye. Nap for a couple hours middle of the day. Wake up and enjoy GMT.

3) March 26, 2pm. Running westwards onto the Westwood into a westwardly gale. Not a good idea. Turn around and run round Beverley’s ring-roads instead.

4) March 26, 3pm. Should have thought earlier of this goal for the run: count the pubs I pass. Beverley has dozens.

5) March 26, 9pm. Just had maybe the best meal out ever in the UK, at the Pipe and Glass Inn, South Dalton. This one worth much more than a Twitter. Watch the front page.

6) March 27, 9am. Papers report British schools to teach twittering – and to drop compulsory study of World War II. Now there’s progress – in less than 140 characters.

7) March 27, 5pm. At Roberts & Speight in Beverley. Any wine store that just had Chateau Musar’s Serge Hochar in to host a tasting is alright in my book.

8) March 27, 5:30pm. Can’t resist a pint of Samuel Smith’s Old Brewery Bitter at the White Horse. Love this pub with its nook and crannies. The pint is only £1.40, too.

9) March 28, 10am. Beverley needs a boutique hotel. Just saying.

10) March 28, 3pm. Credit crunch or old age? I just bought a pair of £15 jeans at Burton’s.

11) March 28, 4pm. Just ran into my London-based cousin in a Boots in Beverley. What are the odds? Given that we’re both here for my mother’s 75th birthday party, pretty good, actually.

12) March 28, 4:15pm. Just convinced my cousin to buy an Animal jacket at Tea Tree Bay. He just convinced me to buy an Animal hoodie. To be honest, we didn’t take much convincing.

13) March 28, 5pm. Walk down Lairgate to find two drunk blokes out back of a pub about to start battering each other. Two other blokes are trying to stop them.

14) March 28, 5:02pm. Lairgate. Fisticuffs replaced by kissing and hugging. Don’t you love daytime drinking?

15) March 28, 6:15pm. At Beverley Minster. There’s a DJ and a pianist, catered dinner and wine. Trust my mum to book a birthday party that feels like a wedding.

16) March 28, 7:30pm. Conversation among the “young folk” – the under 50s – at our table is all about Facebook and Twitter. It’s suggested I tweet. Why?

17) March 28, 8:30pm. Just gave the toast at the birthday party. Probably the closest I’ll ever get to being best man. PS: It was longer than 140 characters.

18) March 28, midnight. Finally mum’s birthday. We open a bottle of champagne. I laugh so hard at something I bang my forehead on my glass. Now I can’t remember what I was laughing about.

19) March 29, noon. At the Tiger Inn for a birthday brunch. Can’t resist the guest ale, Cornish Spring Tide. I recommend the vegetarian shepherds pie if you’re ever in the area.

20) March 29, 3pm. Lovely day for a drive to London. Especially when you’re not driving. My cousin is at the wheel and we talk tweeting. He reckons I should do it. Why?

The English Summer Part 2: the South

Sunday, September 7th, 2008

This is London! (As viewed from inside the Tate Modern.)

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The £4 ($7.50!) London Underground ride to go two stops.
The temperature on the London Underground. You’d think that by fleecing us foreigners for £4 a ride they could afford air conditioning.
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The £2.10 pub Coke.
The number of American tourists in London is dropping. I wonder why.
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The number of my friends talking about the credit crunch.
The number of cranes filling the London skyline that suggests otherwise.

The view up Upper Regent’s Street: the credit crunch has yet to breach the building business.

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The highly impressive Pinot Blanc from Chapel Down of Kent.
The equally promising Pinot Noir from same.

Back when I traveled British Airways, I’d ask for Chapel Down wines by name. Perhaps no surprise that they’ve made a highly passable Pinot Noir. God knows how the wet 2008 vintage will taste, however.

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Shirland Road didn’t look like this back in MY day.

The introduction (for me) to a new part of London: Warwick Avenue
The discovery (for me) of the Regents Canal footpath and the fun to be had walking and running it to Primrose Hill and beyond

This is Art! Houseboats on Regent’s Canal 1

This is Art! Houseboats on Regent’s Canal 2

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The runners in Regents Park on a Saturday morning: reminds me of Central Park in New York
The outdoor gym in Regent’s Park: reminds me of Clovelly in Sydney

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img_8605.jpgAnd the view’s so nice… Click on picture above for full-size wide-shot.

The view of north London from Primrose Hill: something I never experienced during 20 years of living in south London.
The sculpture on the grassy run up front: we all love art in the park

img_8602.jpg This is Art! Sculpture on Primrose Hill

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The chi-chi crowds brunching on Regent’s Park Road
The hoi-polloi crowds thronging Camden Lock Market

Camden: Gets busier with every year.

The vociferous hawkers on the foreign food stalls at the Camden Lock Market
The comparatively tranquil calm at all-organic Inspira Lounge
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This is Art! Tate Modern launches “Street Art” exhibit

The Street Art covering the exterior walls of the Tate Modern
The Monets, Picassos, Lichtensteins and Warhols inside

You can’t take pictures of the posh art inside the Tate, only the “street” art outside

The crowds that fill the Tate Modern
The public that takes full advantage of free art

The orange lamp-posts lead you back to Southwark Tube. Thanks London: Rudy Giuliani would have preferred you didn’t see modern art to begin with.

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The critics still can’t stand – or simply don’t get – Tracy Emin
Seth Lakeman’s Walking Tunes in the Observer Review.
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The dry wit of your classic southern Brit, especially over a pint and an Indian meal
The persistent sales pitch of your classic Indian waiter. How many papadums?

See multi-culti London. See Indian beer bottle. See friend’s hand reach for his glass…

The fact I couldn’t get through a single Cobra at an Indian restaurant (this after only a pint and a half of draft bitter in the pub beforehand)
The fact that one of my friends got through enough Cobras to lead us the wrong way back to Oxford Circus

The Indian meal that repeats on me through the night
The run along the Regent’s Canal in the morning that finally gets rid of it
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The lunch with Chris C
The coffee with Jaffo
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The £5.50 travel card – only a bargain once you’ve paid for the £4 single ride
The hop, skip and a jump from Central London to Warwick Avenue: certainly beats a tube to Brixton and THEN a bus home

The first ever trip back to London on which I don’t catch a bus?
The first ever trip back to London on which I don’t hail a cab?
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Some more of that street art the Tate likes so much

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The police tape at Waterloo Station and the police officers wearily guarding it
The Friday night is upon us

The Marston’s at the Wellington in Waterloo
The way that so many Brits drink gaseous foreign lager when they could have home-grown bitter such as the rest of the world envies
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The good company of the iJamming! Pubbers
The brave but foolish attempt to take printable photographs at 11pm

The Guvnor, the Landlady, Jen, Po1ntman and Si N enjoy each other’s company at the Wellingon. Unlike back in 1979, we are no longer thrown out for being under-age mods.

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The range and quality of flapjacks in the UK. You want a national dish? This is it.
The range and quality of chips. I mean crisps. Sorry. Actually, I think I mean both.
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The conquest of yet another “new” part of London for me: Brondesbury Park
The car ride up to Wembley catching up with my sole cousin

The rather sad clearing out of our deceased aunt and uncle’s decrepit flat in Wembley
The rather happier acquisition of my uncle’s fabulous jazz LP collection: I hope he is happily turning in his grave at the thought that I might have liked this music after all. (PS: Alexander, I’m afraid still left behind the Andrews Sisters.)
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The media’s vicarious obsession with black teenage gang culture
The shock of driving through Harlesden and Neasden and seeing how low these ‘hoods have truly fallen
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The wonders of technology 1: my cousin takes a picture of a painting hanging on our uncle and aunt’s wall using his cell-phone, e-mails it to his dad in the Shetland Islands, and seconds later, using the same cell-phone, calls his father, who is instantly able to confirm whether or not this painting is something he desires.
The wonders of technology 2: in Queens Park, as we hang out over an espresso and a blackjack while his kids play tennis (how civilized London parks are these days), my cousin uses his same cell-phone to figure out where I live on the (New York) map. Somehow his phone finds our private road that yahoo and google maps can’t. (Alright, I admit it: my cousin has an iPhone and I WANT ONE TOO!)
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Another picture of Regent’s Canal, just because…

The quiet of London’s back streets, even during the day
The noise on the South Bank’s Galleria on a summer Saturday night
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The extraordinarily long and arduous process of trying to find two different friends at London Bridge and then collectively find the Bermondsey Kitchen
The food at the Bermondsey Kitchen makes it all worthwhile. The décor is light and welcoming, the hummus fantastic, the squash and sage risotto quite delicious, the bread delightful, the wine passable, the prices quite fair. Even the service is about as good as you can expect in London. (And yes, that is a back-handed compliment.) All this on Bermondsey Street. Next you know, I’ll be speaking positively of M***wall.

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An English international, a German international and a Portugese international play football for the same London club: shorely shome mistake?

The dream start in the Premiership for Hull City
The dour start in the Championship for Crystal Palace

The opening Sunday of the Premier League season sees me going to watch (ahem, cough cough) Chelsea at Stamford Bridge
The ticket is free.

The 7-year old wearing full Chelsea kit on his way to the match, right down to socks and football boots.
The dad wearing regular street clothes: probably can’t afford anything else after kitting out his kid

The cockney accents in the Shed: you mean people still talk like this outside of television dramas?
The atmosphere in the Shed: nothing beats actually being at a football match, even if you can’t stand the team those around you are shouting for.

Um, you’re missing some red in that blue…

The thought of any sportsman – let alone Frank Lampard – being worth £175,000 a week
The number of Olympic athletes who scrimp and save and beg and borrow for the opportunity to pl(a)y their sport – and to break world records in the process. Footballers and their club agents, club owners and Rupert Murdoch alike should all be ashamed of their collective greed. (But of course, we keep shelling out for them.)

The utter inability of Portsmouth’s new singing (and England forward) Peter Crouch to play first touch football
The staggering chasm of quality between Chelsea and Portsmouth based on the opening day’s 4-0 drubbing
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The Bolt of lightning in the 100 meters
The pluckiness (don’t you love that word?) of Team GB’s medal winners

The cynics who said that Beijing’s OTT opening ceremony (later revealed to have been full of lip-synching and computer generating) would raise the bar higher than London could possibly match in four years’ time
The optimists who can’t wait for the Olympics to be held again in a sports-mad European democracy. I promise you they will be a triumph – especially their long-term impact on the nation’s health in general, East London’s in particular

The statistic that the 7% of Brits who attend “independent” (i.e., non State) schools accounted for 58% of Britain’s Olympic medals in 2004
The statistic that there are only 100 Yngling crews in the whole world – and it somehow qualifies as an Olympic Sport. (One in which “Team GB” wins the gold. Those Jamaican sprinters just got a lot faster.)
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Don’t you just wish you could drink this right now? And to think that the British prefer German lager…

The abundant hoppiness of Harvey’s Sussex Bitter. Now there’s a British pint!
The Maiden Bexhill micro-brew. Not up to par with Harvey’s but kudos to anyone who cares to craft their own beer for a (kind of) living

…Even when people brew their own.

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The cheerful Italian waiter at the tratorria we visit in Bexhill
The gulpable quality of Bardolino wine he recommends us
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A beach is a place where a man can feel…?

The Bexhill Rowing Club has its annual rowing regatta canceled by bad weather
This is the 6th of 15 south coast rowing regattas to be canceled due to bad weather this summer

The rowers at the Bexhill Rowing Club still celebrating Team GB’s rowing gold medal from 24 hours earlier
The handful of them who have decided to enter the first ever Indian Ocean Rowing Race next year: 3100 miles from Australia to Mauritius, rowing and sleeping in alternating 2-hour shifts for 40-50 days straight. And I thought I was hardcore to run the Escarpment Trail for four and a half hours in a thunderstorm.
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Bexhill by name….

The wind in Bexhill. Just as well the town means “windy hill” in some form of ancient Anglo-Saxon.
The determined sunbathers on the beach despite the wind.
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Looking upstairs at the De La Warr

The renovated art deco De La Warr Pavilion with excellent café, art shows and local wine: Bexhill’s diamond-in-the-rough. (Yes, I’ve written about the De La Warr before. Yes, it deserves repeated praise and publicity.)
The line-up at the De La Warr Pavilion for August Bank Holiday weekend: at this rate they’ll soon start calling the town Bexhip. (Bloody hell, they’ve just announced a show by Tricky!)

This is Art! One of Nathan Coley’s art pieces at the De La Warr

The multi-media art exhibition by Nathan Coley at the De La Warr: we especially liked his video-taped interviews with Bexhill real estate agents.
The Pavilion “security” guard who finally got round to telling me I couldn’t take pictures of Coley’s art when he knew perfectly well I’d photographed almost every last piece in the place

Life from a Window: The English Channel from inside the De La Warr

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The lack of drinkable wine at Kelly’s Wine Bar in Bexhill: reminds me of South London wine bars circa 1982
The Threshers’ approach to British binge drinking: buy two bottles of wine, get a third one free

The late night DJ session with two of my best friends in Bexhill
The 3-minute cover of “Won’t Get Fooled Again” by Skrewdriver before they (be)came (out as?) fascists. Who knew?

The beans on toast in the morning
The downpour at Bexhill Station: So heavy I have to change clothes on the Heathrow Shuttle

The staying power of teenage friendships
The Great British Summer – whatever the weather

Say no more!

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Signs of the Times 4: London and the South

Thursday, September 4th, 2008


Styling Graffiti, Blomfield Road, Warwick Avenue, Aug 16

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Decent design keeps the Public Informed, Regent’s Canal, Aug 16

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img_8596.jpg Missing Cockney: Notice posted along the Regent’s Canal, Aug 16

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…And indeed it is. Climbing up on Primrose Hill, Aug 16

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Inviting Local #1: Camden Lock, Aug 16

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Inviting Local #2: Shirland Road, Aug 17

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Some things never change: Waterloo Station, Aug 16

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The Mermaid Parade will not be motorized, Bexhill-on-Sea, Aug 18

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Nathan Coley Art #1, De La Warr Pavilion, Bexhill-on-Sea, Aug 18

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Nathan Coley Art #2, De La Warr Pavilion, Bexhill-on-Sea, Aug 18

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Supply submits to demand on a cold summer’s day, Bexhill-on-Sea, Aug 18

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The CCTV Nation extends to errant dogs. Bexhill-on-Sea, Aug 18

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A real Sign of The Times: Second-hand Record Shack shuts up shop. Bexhill-on-Sea, Aug 18

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A model society. Tony Page’s back garden, Bexhill-on-Sea, Aug 18

Signs of the Times 3: Beverley Past, Present (and future?)

Thursday, August 21st, 2008

The town of Beverley, ten miles north east of Hull in Yorkshire’s East Riding, offers a wonderful combination of tradition and modernity, progressivism and conservatism, as you can somewhat tell from these pictures. You won’t find a town with many more coffee houses, tea houses and ancient pubs, yet they move with the times. And if only the Council could prove as pro-active about the horrendous traffic that clogs the market town every day as they appear to be about the poor crab apple tree featured below, the place would be even more attractive to residents and tourists alike.

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All above photos taken in Beverley, August 6-12, 20008

Signs of the Times 2: Hornsea Present

Wednesday, August 20th, 2008

Or, as Morrissey called it, The Seaside Town They Forgot To Close Down. For some reason (apparently the fish and chips), we keep going back there.

While I was in England, there was much discussion in the newspapers about “the childhood obesity crisis.” I guess we should be glad then that nobody was taking advantage of these food offers when we visited Hornsea on a cool mid-August Monday afternoon.