Showing posts with label barbican. Show all posts
Showing posts with label barbican. Show all posts
Monday, 13 May 2019
Monday, 1 April 2019
Diary: March 2019
2 March 2019, London
At Two Temple Place for a Ruskin exhibition.
3 March 2019, London
There is an article about the Labour Party in the Guardian Weekly that quotes a councillor in Liverpool saying that Momentum is/are just Militant with bus passes. The quote is positioned alongside a cut-out photo of Derek Hatton.
City Matters column, 093
12 March 2018, London
Beautifully ambiguous. There are two stories. The child genius is a compelling narrative, but behind the success of Jimmy, the 5-year-old poet-who-doesn't-know-it, is the failure of his teacher Lisa, who is a lousy mother, wife, night-school poet and, it turns out, kidnapper. There is an unstated redemption for Lisa. She succeeded in teaching Jimmy to say “I have a poem” whenever one popped into his head, and by the end of the film it's unlikely he will ever forget to say it, even if it's only to himself. (Er, she taught him about point of view, too, by crawling around on the floor - Ed)
14 March 2018, London
The Golden Baggers AGM always raises the bar in the dull-but-necessary meeting category. The homemade cake on offer is superb (this year a yummy ginger parkin), making it a truly pleasurable way to start planning for the growing season ahead.
The allotment project is now in its ninth year, yet the energy and enthusiasm for progress never flags. The scheme is based around 42 wooden planters (it started as one-tonne builders’ bags, hence the name Baggers), which residents can rent for an annual subscription of £20 ('Friends’ can join for £5).
Membership is open to all residents, experts or beginners, and on the first Sunday of every month they share more scrumptious home baking at their Social Sunday events.
I was especially disappointed this year to learn that one of our Hatfield House residents and veteran Bagger has gone to live in America. He was always very generous in sharing his show-stopping tomatoes, so I never needed to grow any of my own.
Key issues at this year’s AGM were the election of a new Chair and the agreement of a new constitution, the need to attract more ‘Friends’ and to promote the project’s core community values.
We also discussed the failed attempt to save the trees that border the allotment but will soon disappear as part of the development of the former Richard Cloudesley School and suggested locations for this year’s annual outing. Last year’s trip to Turn End house and gardens in Buckinghamshire will be hard to beat. Anyone wanting to join should write to goldenbaggers@gmail.com.
The Golden Baggers is clearly the most successful resident-led project on the estate and its example is proving influential, most obviously in the activities at our refurbished community centre.
The Christmas Day tea party was a riot of festive fun and the recent jumble sale added to the feeling that residents revel in the chance to do things together, preferably with cake included.
Jumble sales are a great chance to hone your people-watching skills. One minute residents will be chatting amicably about family fortunes and local issues; the next they will be cutting a tough deal for that old teapot, holding out for the last 50p.
The allotment project is now in its ninth year, yet the energy and enthusiasm for progress never flags. The scheme is based around 42 wooden planters (it started as one-tonne builders’ bags, hence the name Baggers), which residents can rent for an annual subscription of £20 ('Friends’ can join for £5).
Membership is open to all residents, experts or beginners, and on the first Sunday of every month they share more scrumptious home baking at their Social Sunday events.
I was especially disappointed this year to learn that one of our Hatfield House residents and veteran Bagger has gone to live in America. He was always very generous in sharing his show-stopping tomatoes, so I never needed to grow any of my own.
Key issues at this year’s AGM were the election of a new Chair and the agreement of a new constitution, the need to attract more ‘Friends’ and to promote the project’s core community values.
We also discussed the failed attempt to save the trees that border the allotment but will soon disappear as part of the development of the former Richard Cloudesley School and suggested locations for this year’s annual outing. Last year’s trip to Turn End house and gardens in Buckinghamshire will be hard to beat. Anyone wanting to join should write to goldenbaggers@gmail.com.
The Golden Baggers is clearly the most successful resident-led project on the estate and its example is proving influential, most obviously in the activities at our refurbished community centre.
The Christmas Day tea party was a riot of festive fun and the recent jumble sale added to the feeling that residents revel in the chance to do things together, preferably with cake included.
Jumble sales are a great chance to hone your people-watching skills. One minute residents will be chatting amicably about family fortunes and local issues; the next they will be cutting a tough deal for that old teapot, holding out for the last 50p.
 |
| Any offers for this fine item? |
If anything can take the shine off this neighbourly bliss it is the clumsiness of the council. A number of residents met recently with housing chief Paul Murtagh, who arrived in a foul mood to explain and apologise for the City Corporation's stuttered response to a potentially deadly gas leak at the building site next to Basterfield House.
He’d hoped to make his task easier by fixing the meeting (two months after the event) as a drop-in rather than a full-throated Q&A grilling from the residents most affected. Unfortunately, his plans went awry when some canny individuals promptly rearranged the set-up and started firing their questions. Mr Murtagh looked more and more uncomfortable as the volleys of verbal shots whistled his way.
While admitting that the City Corporation had failed residents and was searching its soul for “lessons learned”, he stuck to the script that the site work met with all existing laws and regulations. He expressed this forcefully, but tripped slightly when it came to evacuation policy and revealed that, unlike almost every large building in the developed world, there are no emergency muster points or marshalling for the Golden Lane Estate.
On the day of the accident back in December, it was residents, acting on advice from the gas board, who cobbled together a plan of action until the emergency services arrived to offer some leadership. Confused residents eventually found a safe point at Prior Weston School, shaken and feeling sick.
Mr Murtagh told the meeting that the City Corporation's advice when faced with an emergency is to sit tight, keep calm and carry on until help arrives. Yes, even if, as has happened before, an unexploded wartime bomb is uncovered! It later emerged that the City Corporation is reviewing how it handles “events such as this one”, but is unable to share or publicise the findings.
The Square Mile's emergency plan to swerve Brexit appears to have paid off with a hush-hush deal in Paris last month to make sure all the City's hedge funds and derivative thingies do not turn to dust at midnight on March 29.
The best revelation about this mysterious caper would be proof of my suspicion that the audacious plot was hatched not at the Bank of England but here on Golden Lane with the help of Bayer House resident and YouTube sensation Elly Space, whose infectious Europop anthem 'Cancel Brexit’ is powerful enough to turn the tide of history. If you’re still in doubt, go to https://youtu.be/mf4mqPGwtN4 and turn the volume up to 11.
Billy Mann lives in Basterfield House on the Golden Lane Estate. He is a teaching assistant, a City of London Community Builder and blogs at scrapbookbilly.blogspot.com. Write to him at goldenlanegazette@gmail.com.
7 March 2919, London
8 March 2019, London
He’d hoped to make his task easier by fixing the meeting (two months after the event) as a drop-in rather than a full-throated Q&A grilling from the residents most affected. Unfortunately, his plans went awry when some canny individuals promptly rearranged the set-up and started firing their questions. Mr Murtagh looked more and more uncomfortable as the volleys of verbal shots whistled his way.
While admitting that the City Corporation had failed residents and was searching its soul for “lessons learned”, he stuck to the script that the site work met with all existing laws and regulations. He expressed this forcefully, but tripped slightly when it came to evacuation policy and revealed that, unlike almost every large building in the developed world, there are no emergency muster points or marshalling for the Golden Lane Estate.
On the day of the accident back in December, it was residents, acting on advice from the gas board, who cobbled together a plan of action until the emergency services arrived to offer some leadership. Confused residents eventually found a safe point at Prior Weston School, shaken and feeling sick.
Mr Murtagh told the meeting that the City Corporation's advice when faced with an emergency is to sit tight, keep calm and carry on until help arrives. Yes, even if, as has happened before, an unexploded wartime bomb is uncovered! It later emerged that the City Corporation is reviewing how it handles “events such as this one”, but is unable to share or publicise the findings.
The Square Mile's emergency plan to swerve Brexit appears to have paid off with a hush-hush deal in Paris last month to make sure all the City's hedge funds and derivative thingies do not turn to dust at midnight on March 29.
The best revelation about this mysterious caper would be proof of my suspicion that the audacious plot was hatched not at the Bank of England but here on Golden Lane with the help of Bayer House resident and YouTube sensation Elly Space, whose infectious Europop anthem 'Cancel Brexit’ is powerful enough to turn the tide of history. If you’re still in doubt, go to https://youtu.be/mf4mqPGwtN4 and turn the volume up to 11.
Billy Mann lives in Basterfield House on the Golden Lane Estate. He is a teaching assistant, a City of London Community Builder and blogs at scrapbookbilly.blogspot.com. Write to him at goldenlanegazette@gmail.com.
7 March 2919, London
8 March 2019, London
Memory after the death of girl-about-London-clubland Magenta De Vine
10 March 2019, London There is a big long-read article in the Guardian about Aldi, the two Albrecht brothers, Theo and Karl, their mission, their progress and their business style. At times, the article seems to imply that the brothers saw a genuine social purpose in finding a way to the lowest price for the shopper, as if their purpose was to reduce the amount of money people spent on food [shit waiting to happen] in order that they may spend it on better things. In other words, that providing one of life’s essentials – food – should not drain on people's lives or present a struggle.
10 March 2019, London There is a big long-read article in the Guardian about Aldi, the two Albrecht brothers, Theo and Karl, their mission, their progress and their business style. At times, the article seems to imply that the brothers saw a genuine social purpose in finding a way to the lowest price for the shopper, as if their purpose was to reduce the amount of money people spent on food [shit waiting to happen] in order that they may spend it on better things. In other words, that providing one of life’s essentials – food – should not drain on people's lives or present a struggle.
Beautifully ambiguous. There are two stories. The child genius is a compelling narrative, but behind the success of Jimmy, the 5-year-old poet-who-doesn't-know-it, is the failure of his teacher Lisa, who is a lousy mother, wife, night-school poet and, it turns out, kidnapper. There is an unstated redemption for Lisa. She succeeded in teaching Jimmy to say “I have a poem” whenever one popped into his head, and by the end of the film it's unlikely he will ever forget to say it, even if it's only to himself. (Er, she taught him about point of view, too, by crawling around on the floor - Ed)
14 March 2018, London
Headline: "EU on no-deal Brexit motion: 'like Titanic voting for iceberg to move'"
Leader in The Economist
<< When historians come to write the tale of Britain’s attempts to leave the European Union, this week may be seen as the moment the country finally grasped the mess it was in.
In the campaign, Leavers had promised voters that Brexit would be easy because Britain “holds all the cards”. This week Parliament was so scornful of the exit deal that Theresa May had spent two years negotiating and renegotiating in Brussels that MPs threw it out for a second time, by 149 votes—the fourth-biggest government defeat in modern parliamentary history.
The next day MPs rejected what had once been her back-up plan of simply walking out without a deal. The prime minister has lost control. On Wednesday four cabinet ministers failed to back her in a crucial vote. Both main parties, long divided over Brexit, are seeing their factions splintering into ever-angrier sub-factions. And all this just two weeks before exit day.
Even by the chaotic standards of the three years since the referendum, the country is lost (see article). Mrs May boasted this week of “send[ing] a message to the whole world about the sort of country the United Kingdom will be”. She is not wrong: it is a laughing-stock. An unflappable place supposedly built on compromise and a stiff upper lip is consumed by accusations of treachery and betrayal. Yet the demolition of her plan offers Britain a chance to rethink its misguided approach to leaving the eu. Mrs May has made the worst of a bad job. This week’s chaos gives the country a shot at coming up with something better.
The immediate consequence of the rebellion in Westminster is that Brexit must be delayed. As we went to press, Parliament was to vote for an extension of the March 29th deadline. For its own sake the EU should agree. A no-deal Brexit would hurt Britain grievously, but it would also hurt the EU — and Ireland as grievously as Britain.
Mrs May’s plan is to hold yet another vote on her deal and to cudgel Brexiteers into supporting it by threatening them with a long extension that she says risks the cancellation of Brexit altogether. At the same time she will twist the arms of moderates by pointing out that a no-deal Brexit could still happen, because avoiding it depends on the agreement of the EU, which is losing patience.
It is a desperate tactic from a prime minister who has lost her authority. It forces MPs to choose between options they find wretched when they are convinced that better alternatives are available. Even if it succeeds, it would deprive Britain of the stable, truly consenting majority that would serve as the foundation for the daunting series of votes needed to enact Brexit and for the even harder talks on the future relationship with the EU.
To overcome the impasse created by today’s divisions, Britain needs a long extension. The question is how to use it to forge that stable, consenting majority in Parliament and the country.
An increasingly popular answer is: get rid of Mrs May. The prime minister’s deal has flopped and her authority is shot. A growing number of Tories believe that a new leader with a new mandate could break the logjam. Yet there is a high risk that Conservative Party members would install a replacement who takes the country towards an ultra-hard Brexit.
<< When historians come to write the tale of Britain’s attempts to leave the European Union, this week may be seen as the moment the country finally grasped the mess it was in.
In the campaign, Leavers had promised voters that Brexit would be easy because Britain “holds all the cards”. This week Parliament was so scornful of the exit deal that Theresa May had spent two years negotiating and renegotiating in Brussels that MPs threw it out for a second time, by 149 votes—the fourth-biggest government defeat in modern parliamentary history.
The next day MPs rejected what had once been her back-up plan of simply walking out without a deal. The prime minister has lost control. On Wednesday four cabinet ministers failed to back her in a crucial vote. Both main parties, long divided over Brexit, are seeing their factions splintering into ever-angrier sub-factions. And all this just two weeks before exit day.
Even by the chaotic standards of the three years since the referendum, the country is lost (see article). Mrs May boasted this week of “send[ing] a message to the whole world about the sort of country the United Kingdom will be”. She is not wrong: it is a laughing-stock. An unflappable place supposedly built on compromise and a stiff upper lip is consumed by accusations of treachery and betrayal. Yet the demolition of her plan offers Britain a chance to rethink its misguided approach to leaving the eu. Mrs May has made the worst of a bad job. This week’s chaos gives the country a shot at coming up with something better.
The immediate consequence of the rebellion in Westminster is that Brexit must be delayed. As we went to press, Parliament was to vote for an extension of the March 29th deadline. For its own sake the EU should agree. A no-deal Brexit would hurt Britain grievously, but it would also hurt the EU — and Ireland as grievously as Britain.
Mrs May’s plan is to hold yet another vote on her deal and to cudgel Brexiteers into supporting it by threatening them with a long extension that she says risks the cancellation of Brexit altogether. At the same time she will twist the arms of moderates by pointing out that a no-deal Brexit could still happen, because avoiding it depends on the agreement of the EU, which is losing patience.
It is a desperate tactic from a prime minister who has lost her authority. It forces MPs to choose between options they find wretched when they are convinced that better alternatives are available. Even if it succeeds, it would deprive Britain of the stable, truly consenting majority that would serve as the foundation for the daunting series of votes needed to enact Brexit and for the even harder talks on the future relationship with the EU.
To overcome the impasse created by today’s divisions, Britain needs a long extension. The question is how to use it to forge that stable, consenting majority in Parliament and the country.
An increasingly popular answer is: get rid of Mrs May. The prime minister’s deal has flopped and her authority is shot. A growing number of Tories believe that a new leader with a new mandate could break the logjam. Yet there is a high risk that Conservative Party members would install a replacement who takes the country towards an ultra-hard Brexit.
What’s more, replacing Mrs May would do little to solve the riddle of how to put together a deal. The parties are fundamentally split. To believe that a new tenant in Downing Street could put them back together again and engineer a majority is to believe the Brexiteers’ fantasy that theirs is a brilliant project that is merely being badly executed.
Calls for a general election are equally misguided. The country is as divided as the parties. Britain could go through its fourth poll in as many years only to end up where it started. Tory mps might fall into line if they had been elected on a manifesto promising to enact the deal. But would the Conservatives really go into an election based on Mrs May’s scheme, which has twice been given a drubbing by MPs and was described this week even by one supportive Tory mp as “the best turd that we have”? It does not have the ring of a successful campaign.
To break the logjam, Mrs May needs to do two things. The first is to consult Parliament, in a series of indicative votes that will reveal what form of Brexit can command a majority. The second is to call a referendum to make that choice legitimate. Today every faction sticks to its red lines, claiming to be speaking for the people. Only this combination can put those arguments to rest.
Take these steps in turn. Despite the gridlock, the outlines of a parliamentary compromise are visible. Labour wants permanent membership of the eu’s customs union, which is a bit closer to the eu than Mrs May’s deal. Alternatively, MPs may favour a Norway-style set-up—which this newspaper has argued for and would keep Britain in the single market. The eu is open to both. Only if Mrs May cannot establish a consensus should she return to her own much-criticised plan.
Getting votes for these or any other approach would require thinking beyond party lines. That does not come naturally in Britain’s adversarial, majoritarian policies. But the whipping system is breaking down. Party structures are fraying. Breakaway groups and parties-within-parties are forming on both sides of the Commons, and across it. Offering MPs free votes could foster cross-party support for a new approach.
The second step is a confirmatory referendum. Brexit requires Britain to trade off going its own way with maintaining profitable ties with the eu. Any new Brexit plan that Parliament concocts will inevitably demand compromises that disappoint many, perhaps most, voters. Mrs May and other critics argue that holding another referendum would be undemocratic (never mind that Mrs May is prepared to ask MPs to vote on her deal a third or even fourth time). But the original referendum campaign utterly failed to capture the complexities of Brexit. The truly undemocratic course would be to deny voters the chance to vouch that, yes, they are content with how it has turned out.
And so any deal that Parliament approves must be put to the public for a final say. It will be decried by hardline Brexiteers as treasonous and by hardline Remainers as an act of self-harm. Forget them. It is for the public to decide whether they are in favour of the new relationship with the EU — or whether, on reflection, they would rather stick with the one they already have.>>
18 March 2018, London
‘To rush through May’s deal would be like cutting corners when building the foundations of a house because you want to move in quickly.’
Matthew D'Ancona, the Guardian
19 March 2019, London
20 March 2019, London
At the Guardian Archives, one set of Don McPhee negatives I just catalogued is labelled “Bolton Gays”, which sounds like the title of an earthy TV comedy drama. I dared not look at the pictures on the light-box. Other sets of negatives I have filed recently include those labelled “Pigeon Exhibition at Leeds”, “Cars Crushed in Liverpool”, “Bridge Made Of Willow at Marsden” and “Christmas Pudding Factory near Derby”.
At the Guardian Archives, one set of Don McPhee negatives I just catalogued is labelled “Bolton Gays”, which sounds like the title of an earthy TV comedy drama. I dared not look at the pictures on the light-box. Other sets of negatives I have filed recently include those labelled “Pigeon Exhibition at Leeds”, “Cars Crushed in Liverpool”, “Bridge Made Of Willow at Marsden” and “Christmas Pudding Factory near Derby”.
21 March 20199, London
‘It requests permission to carry on playing a game that she has lost.’
Guardian editorial on PM's begging letter to EU
Guardian editorial on PM's begging letter to EU
22 March 2019, London
‘The French EU minister, Nathalie Loiseau, has called her new cat Brexit. “He wakes me up every morning meowing to death because he wants to go out,” she says. “And then when I open the door he stays put, undecided, and then glares at me when I put him out.”’
Gary Younge, the Guardian
23 March 2019, London
At the ‘Bollocks to Brexit’ march.
And just in case you wanted some kind of evidence...
24 March 2019, London
Gary Younge, the Guardian
23 March 2019, London
At the ‘Bollocks to Brexit’ march.
And just in case you wanted some kind of evidence...
24 March 2019, London
Jane was one of the 500 voices in The Public Domain event at the Barbican today.
And Lucy was her conductor...
27 March 2019, London
To the Hackney CVS Annual Awards because I had nominated Headway for the 'Best Community Voice’ award, or something. Rosy was flabbergasted but nevertheless delighted to collect the award in a ceremony that was so inspiring for the number of stories of community success it delivered.
28 March 2019, London
28 March 2019, London
At an anatomy workshop with clay in the studio in which Will presented his model of Callum to the man himself.
28 March 2019, London
28 March 2019, London
I spotted one of the local market-stall women at this. Then I remembered that the play starred a heartthrob actor from TV's Peaky Blinders and realised why this was not such an unlikely sighting after all.
29 March 2019, London
30 March 2018, London
29 March 2019, London
30 March 2018, London
‘There will be a meeting of EU heads of government on 10 April: it’s probably best not to assume their patience with Britain’s ongoing nervous breakdown will be infinite’.
Jonathan Freedland, the Guardian
Jonathan Freedland, the Guardian
30 March 2019, London
Joined a Headway public-engagement thing last night in which Ben interviewed A, P and G for the benefit of a collection of Hackney creatives from somewhere up Kingsland Road near Tesco's. It was a nice way to shamelessly plug Headway's many talented artists and the three Friday enfants did a great job of being themselves, which is an irresistible proposition in itself, especially when G does his Stephen Hawking thing with his Macbook. Hilarious. The guests loved it and we must remember to give the event some quality follow-up if it is to have any lasting impact.
Friday, 1 March 2019
Diary: February 2019
2 February 2019, London
I used to remember my dreams, but not so much since I was visited by You Know What.
2 February 2019, London
Séan and Jane were grabbing the air in front of them at this.
5 February 2019, London
Can You Ever Forgive Me?
Absorbing, very funny and not a duff performance. Hard not to recall Withnail when Richard E Grant turns in one of his overcamp romps.
9 February 2019, London
Absorbing, very funny and not a duff performance. Hard not to recall Withnail when Richard E Grant turns in one of his overcamp romps.
9 February 2019, London
Golden Lane Jumble Sale. We made £30.
10 February 2019, London
There is a lot of talk in the media of how the big two political parties are packed with internal conflict. Political commentator Andrew Rawnsley states in the Observer that their problems are a symptom of an old voting system that breeds tribalism. He urges reform. The piece made me wonder what British politics would look like if the parliamentary whipping system was scrapped and every MP had a free vote. Would this force political rivals to engage in a more meaningful dialogue and negotiate on behalf of the citizens they represent?
11 February 2019, London
If Beale Street Could Talk. A quite intense love story, beautifully played and photographed.
14 February 2019, London
At Headway reading group today SD told us about his “psychopathic Irish girlfriend Mo” and the poor-man's Valentine's gifts he lavished on her back in 1989. Feet were among them. SD and Mo were so poverty-stricken that Valentine’s Day became an embarrassing reminder of their dire straits. SD says he got some old cardboard, made a box and in it he put small drawings of the things he knew Mo would like but he could not give her: chocolates, bits of jewellery and the like. Mo suffered with her feet, so SD sketched a new pair of feet for her.
15 February 2019, London
Brexit metaphors are all over the place, so I thought I’d give it a crack. The swivel-eyed loony Tory fringe are like six Premier League fullbacks refusing to play unless the offside rule is changed.
16 February 2019, Brighton
I just got a message from Facebook telling me I posted this illustration three years ago. I remember its origin. I’d read an inspiring article that claimed that the 21st Century would become the Century of Sharing. I liked the sound of those words. They had a ring, so I started to think how I might illustrate them.
I also liked the sentiment, the idea that a more caring, sharing society might become a model for future generations to aspire to, blah, blah. I’m writing this diary entry because yesterday thousands of schoolchildren in Britain went on strike to protest our government’s failure to tackle climate change.
The sharing symbol/pictogram from internet browsers I ended up using was a shameless act of theft. I do like it, though. It looks like a molecular model for water, H2O, which gives the concept a natural, elemental flavour. In the studio, I later created a sculpture of this idea with three plastic footballs from Poundland, two cardboard tubes, some scrunched-up newspaper and a lot of Modrock. I painted each of the balls red, green and blue (RGB).
In the sculpture, the concept shifted to a more political one. The two satellite balls were each marked MARKET and STATE. The central core ball was marked SOCIETY; the idea being that Market and State can only communicate with one another by journeying the length of the ‘bond’ to and from Society. Society is thus the key to a better world. Everything must pass through Society, so build a good one that can handle the different types of traffic. Stupid, eh?
I just got a message from Facebook telling me I posted this illustration three years ago. I remember its origin. I’d read an inspiring article that claimed that the 21st Century would become the Century of Sharing. I liked the sound of those words. They had a ring, so I started to think how I might illustrate them.
I also liked the sentiment, the idea that a more caring, sharing society might become a model for future generations to aspire to, blah, blah. I’m writing this diary entry because yesterday thousands of schoolchildren in Britain went on strike to protest our government’s failure to tackle climate change.
The sharing symbol/pictogram from internet browsers I ended up using was a shameless act of theft. I do like it, though. It looks like a molecular model for water, H2O, which gives the concept a natural, elemental flavour. In the studio, I later created a sculpture of this idea with three plastic footballs from Poundland, two cardboard tubes, some scrunched-up newspaper and a lot of Modrock. I painted each of the balls red, green and blue (RGB).
In the sculpture, the concept shifted to a more political one. The two satellite balls were each marked MARKET and STATE. The central core ball was marked SOCIETY; the idea being that Market and State can only communicate with one another by journeying the length of the ‘bond’ to and from Society. Society is thus the key to a better world. Everything must pass through Society, so build a good one that can handle the different types of traffic. Stupid, eh?
17 February 2019, Three Bridges
Is there a New Barbarism trend emerging, just in time for post-Brexit Britain? A nation of gentlemen and white savages?
18 February 2019, Liverpool
RIP Sylvia, age 91. Holy Trinity Church, Breck Road/Richmond Bowling Club.
18 February 2019, Liverpool
What if … across the political spectrum, MPs simultaneously resigned their party's whip and united around a Deal Us In coalition to secure a fruitful future relationship with the 27 countries of the European Union?
19 February 2019, London
I finally got to meet the Rotary Club of Gants Hill. I won't pretend it was a long-held ambition. I was there, at Kanchans restaurant, with fundraiser Rosy from Headway and we were on a mission to secure some kind of donation. Four women, four men, they were charming and showed genuine interest in our pitch. I didn't tell them that last Thursday, in preparation, I had discussed their organisation with SD at Headway. We noted that the Rotary Club logo is a wheel with six spokes and 24 cogs. We didn't quite know what to make of that. It wasn't exactly a Satanic code. Not that we could see, anyway. When SD pointed out that there were 5 gaps between the spokes, our imaginations quickened, but only briefly. I think it might just be a wheel. I sat in a Turkish coffee bar called Gold's for half an hour before the meeting, sipping camomile tea and reading the introduction to 'Theft by Finding’ by David Sedaris. A Turkish music TV station was playing in the corner throughout. In preparation, I also had this about Gants Hill up my sleeve: “The name could have originated from the Le Gant family, who were stewards of Barking Abbey. The name Gantesgrave appears in records as early as 1291. Alternatively, the name may be derived from 'Gnats Cross' in reference to the insects.” Named after a transposition error, that’s quite cool.
I finally got to meet the Rotary Club of Gants Hill. I won't pretend it was a long-held ambition. I was there, at Kanchans restaurant, with fundraiser Rosy from Headway and we were on a mission to secure some kind of donation. Four women, four men, they were charming and showed genuine interest in our pitch. I didn't tell them that last Thursday, in preparation, I had discussed their organisation with SD at Headway. We noted that the Rotary Club logo is a wheel with six spokes and 24 cogs. We didn't quite know what to make of that. It wasn't exactly a Satanic code. Not that we could see, anyway. When SD pointed out that there were 5 gaps between the spokes, our imaginations quickened, but only briefly. I think it might just be a wheel. I sat in a Turkish coffee bar called Gold's for half an hour before the meeting, sipping camomile tea and reading the introduction to 'Theft by Finding’ by David Sedaris. A Turkish music TV station was playing in the corner throughout. In preparation, I also had this about Gants Hill up my sleeve: “The name could have originated from the Le Gant family, who were stewards of Barking Abbey. The name Gantesgrave appears in records as early as 1291. Alternatively, the name may be derived from 'Gnats Cross' in reference to the insects.” Named after a transposition error, that’s quite cool.
19 February 2019, London
An unusually shaped Plane tree outside the British Council, Trafalgar Square. Planes are normally trimmed for upward growth since they pump tons of life-giving water and oxygen into polluted city centres. This one has gone all horizontal.
19 February 2019, London
To the Mall Galleries off Trafalgar Square to see the British Life Photography exhibition of those recently awarded prizes. Included were three by Paul, one of them, from Brighton beach, in the 'Rural Life' category.
21 February 2019, Hackney
A bit of promo text for Michelle flogging a collaborative piece called ‘Love London’.
The heart of London is big and generous and full of love. It beats strongest when its people do their daily dance to the city's sounds. Its smells never fail to entice. Its rhythms guide us powerfully through every step we take. We instinctively feel the warm throb of the metropolis and slip easily into its hustle and bustle. From north to south, east to west, the London we know and love is above all a creation of its people. They come from all over the country and from across the globe in search of London's passionate embrace. They yield to it and give their hearts back in return. This collective work celebrates that beautiful relationship, of London and its people and the partnership they have forged to make our city the envy of the world.
20 February 2019, London
On Twitter.
On Twitter.
A bit of promo text for Michelle flogging a collaborative piece called ‘Love London’.
The heart of London is big and generous and full of love. It beats strongest when its people do their daily dance to the city's sounds. Its smells never fail to entice. Its rhythms guide us powerfully through every step we take. We instinctively feel the warm throb of the metropolis and slip easily into its hustle and bustle. From north to south, east to west, the London we know and love is above all a creation of its people. They come from all over the country and from across the globe in search of London's passionate embrace. They yield to it and give their hearts back in return. This collective work celebrates that beautiful relationship, of London and its people and the partnership they have forged to make our city the envy of the world.
23 February 2019, London
We went to a Headway/Hackney Roots fundraiser last night in Chats Palace, a community centre near Homerton Hospital. Members of Headway Music Group performed with jazz entertainers the Grand Union Orchestra.
They had a showman trumpeter, Claude, who was good at engaging people, a young hip dude on a very cool semi-acoustic electric bass guitar, a very senior citizen on trombone and electric piano and a senior saxophonist who Jane said resembled the Lady In The Van. A smirking drummer completed the line-up.
It was an enjoyable evening, mostly because so many Headway members turned up, either as performers or spectators. Seeing them out in the real world having fun was a joy. The event probably didn't raise much money but it momentarily elevated Headway members from their daily struggle with brain injury.
Check out @HeadwayELondon’s Tweet: https://twitter.com/HeadwayELondon/status/1099416704441090048?s=09
We went to a Headway/Hackney Roots fundraiser last night in Chats Palace, a community centre near Homerton Hospital. Members of Headway Music Group performed with jazz entertainers the Grand Union Orchestra.
They had a showman trumpeter, Claude, who was good at engaging people, a young hip dude on a very cool semi-acoustic electric bass guitar, a very senior citizen on trombone and electric piano and a senior saxophonist who Jane said resembled the Lady In The Van. A smirking drummer completed the line-up.
It was an enjoyable evening, mostly because so many Headway members turned up, either as performers or spectators. Seeing them out in the real world having fun was a joy. The event probably didn't raise much money but it momentarily elevated Headway members from their daily struggle with brain injury.
Check out @HeadwayELondon’s Tweet: https://twitter.com/HeadwayELondon/status/1099416704441090048?s=09
25 February 2019, London
Keith has just pointed out on Instagram that this drawing I posted was a bit phallic. I honestly never noticed until now, but he is dead right.
26 February 2018, London
I'd forgotten how sensual this film is. Lots of acting with the eyes and lots of touch. Even the sound is powerful, the soft piano, the waves, the rain, the squelching mud, the tribal noises.
29 February 2019, London
Couple of digipix.
26 February 2018, London
I'd forgotten how sensual this film is. Lots of acting with the eyes and lots of touch. Even the sound is powerful, the soft piano, the waves, the rain, the squelching mud, the tribal noises.
Couple of digipix.
Plus a marketing idea.
Saturday, 1 December 2018
Column: December 2018
The stories we tell about our own lives are the most important ones. The centenary of the end of the First World War served up a feast of stories and voices recently, the best coming from the ordinary people who lived through it. The Imperial War Museum's Voices of the First World War collection gave us a rare chance to hear at last from those who said nothing for so long after the 1914-1918 conflict. And in Peter Jackson's film They Shall Not Grow Old, an army of lip-readers toiled endlessly through silent film footage to work out what the battling young Tommies in the trenches were saying to one another.
Here on Golden Lane a small number of residents (myself included) have made a start on our own mission to remember, by gathering the stories of residents, in their own words, in their photographs and in the curiosities they have collected over the years. Altogether these often small and seemingly uninteresting things tell us a bigger story.
Over at the Barbican estate they are doing likewise. A new archive project just starting in conjunction with the Guildhall School, Laying the Foundations, aims to capture the history of the neighbourhood and its people. Golden Lane has been invited to join, too, so together we should be able to put post-war home life centre stage.
It’s a fair guess that the dusty corners of places like the Guildhall and the Bishopsgate Institute are already well stocked with the testimonies of former Lord Mayors, beadles, sheriffs and all the rest of the City’s ceremonial grandees. So it will be a pleasure be able to read and hear the memories of the residents, the office workers, the shopkeepers, the taxi drivers and the police officers.
This is where Laying the Foundations promises to fill the gap, by putting real people at its core. Barbican residents have already got off to a flying start in this ambitious plan. I’m told they have a secret stash of original (1965-76) fixtures and fittings from kitchens and bathrooms.
So Golden Lane has a bit of catching up to do. We already have in our collection a lot of vintage photos and architectural documents. And one or two senior residents have allowed us to copy items from their own personal stock, which contain such gems as old copies of the Golden Lane Journal and Club News from the late 1950s. Pictures from 1977 show serious-looking children in daft costumes doing their best to celebrate the Queen’s Silver Jubilee. Letters from locals describing the ground zero they saw when they emerged from air-raid shelters after the war bombing in 1940 put into context the citywide rebuilding of London that our estate was part of.
More of these stories will follow, but I especially must guard against my love of tall tales, because they will almost certainly rub up against the archivists’ rigorous codes of practice. Here’s hoping that the sensible people at Laying the Foundations and their partners at the London Metropolitan Archives can steer us in the right direction.
A good test for our seriousness is an unpublished memoir we’ve recently got our hands on, by Pat Moriarty, who lived on nearby Whitecross Street from the late 1950s. Pat made, and remains, friends with many of Golden Lane’s residents and her memories of the neighbourhood are vivid and tell a lot about life in the early days of the estate. In one section Pat describes the social progress of graduating from washouses and outdoor toilets to the fitted home comforts we now take for granted. The arrival of a launderette locally is greeted with rapture: “Then came a ray of sunshine in the greyness of this end of the street – the Sunlight Laundry, with its magnificent rising sun in blue and yellow covering the whole window.”
Good stories are irresistible, and the truth is often dull, but this is the kind of first-person account that gives community history a good name. It is an example worth following. Yes, I am still confident that one day I will crack the mystery of the Basterfield House resident who once slept with David Bowie. And I am itching to talk to the 90-year-old Great Arthur House resident who has a minor obsession with knickers. These stories fuel our imagination and feed our hunger for entertainment, but behind them stand more serious stories about lives lived locally.
Not that the 90-year-old can tell us very much at the moment, because recently she accidentally threw away her false teeth. Gum's the word.
Billy Mann lives in Basterfield House on the Golden Lane Estate. He is a teaching assistant, a City of London Community Builder and blogs at scrapbookbilly.blogspot.com.
An edited version of this column appeared in the City Matters newspaper, edition 087
Here on Golden Lane a small number of residents (myself included) have made a start on our own mission to remember, by gathering the stories of residents, in their own words, in their photographs and in the curiosities they have collected over the years. Altogether these often small and seemingly uninteresting things tell us a bigger story.
Over at the Barbican estate they are doing likewise. A new archive project just starting in conjunction with the Guildhall School, Laying the Foundations, aims to capture the history of the neighbourhood and its people. Golden Lane has been invited to join, too, so together we should be able to put post-war home life centre stage.
It’s a fair guess that the dusty corners of places like the Guildhall and the Bishopsgate Institute are already well stocked with the testimonies of former Lord Mayors, beadles, sheriffs and all the rest of the City’s ceremonial grandees. So it will be a pleasure be able to read and hear the memories of the residents, the office workers, the shopkeepers, the taxi drivers and the police officers.
This is where Laying the Foundations promises to fill the gap, by putting real people at its core. Barbican residents have already got off to a flying start in this ambitious plan. I’m told they have a secret stash of original (1965-76) fixtures and fittings from kitchens and bathrooms.
So Golden Lane has a bit of catching up to do. We already have in our collection a lot of vintage photos and architectural documents. And one or two senior residents have allowed us to copy items from their own personal stock, which contain such gems as old copies of the Golden Lane Journal and Club News from the late 1950s. Pictures from 1977 show serious-looking children in daft costumes doing their best to celebrate the Queen’s Silver Jubilee. Letters from locals describing the ground zero they saw when they emerged from air-raid shelters after the war bombing in 1940 put into context the citywide rebuilding of London that our estate was part of.
More of these stories will follow, but I especially must guard against my love of tall tales, because they will almost certainly rub up against the archivists’ rigorous codes of practice. Here’s hoping that the sensible people at Laying the Foundations and their partners at the London Metropolitan Archives can steer us in the right direction.
A good test for our seriousness is an unpublished memoir we’ve recently got our hands on, by Pat Moriarty, who lived on nearby Whitecross Street from the late 1950s. Pat made, and remains, friends with many of Golden Lane’s residents and her memories of the neighbourhood are vivid and tell a lot about life in the early days of the estate. In one section Pat describes the social progress of graduating from washouses and outdoor toilets to the fitted home comforts we now take for granted. The arrival of a launderette locally is greeted with rapture: “Then came a ray of sunshine in the greyness of this end of the street – the Sunlight Laundry, with its magnificent rising sun in blue and yellow covering the whole window.”
Good stories are irresistible, and the truth is often dull, but this is the kind of first-person account that gives community history a good name. It is an example worth following. Yes, I am still confident that one day I will crack the mystery of the Basterfield House resident who once slept with David Bowie. And I am itching to talk to the 90-year-old Great Arthur House resident who has a minor obsession with knickers. These stories fuel our imagination and feed our hunger for entertainment, but behind them stand more serious stories about lives lived locally.
Not that the 90-year-old can tell us very much at the moment, because recently she accidentally threw away her false teeth. Gum's the word.
Billy Mann lives in Basterfield House on the Golden Lane Estate. He is a teaching assistant, a City of London Community Builder and blogs at scrapbookbilly.blogspot.com.
An edited version of this column appeared in the City Matters newspaper, edition 087
Tuesday, 27 October 2015
Diary: Eames exhibition
I will visit again before it closes, but first impressions are that the chairs were only a very small part of their extensive work in design, architecture, graphics, education. The Eames repertoire is bloody endless, and their energy awesome. The momentum of their trendiness was ably assisted by Frazier Crane, and if occasionally they come across as creepy precisionists, it is a small price to pay.
Wednesday, 5 August 2015
Theatre: Cumberbatch in Hamlet
Bendy does it for me
Can't believe the outrage that has been voiced in the media world over the "to be, or not to be?" bit being shunted to the front of the play in a production of Hamlet currently playing at London's Barbican theatre. This all came straight after the very first performance, and the producers later relented and moved the scene to its more traditional position in the play. And now the 'official' press reviews are in. I can't say I have finished swimming through that particular pool of mud just yet, but I have already noticed a common media trend in action. Which is: don't go kicking someone who is obviously a people's favourite, which Benedict Cumberbatch has become since appearing in the BBC series Sherlock. 
We attended the first night of his Hamlet on 5 August and I immediately found that seemingly audacious placing of the "to be, or not to be?" line at the opening remarkably fitting. It features the Danish prince Hamlet (Cumberbatch), contemplating and fingering some of his dead father's possessions. The "to br" speech in this poignant moment seems perfectly natural and marks out the production from the start as existential. This version explores the complextities of the parent-child relationship in ways I had not considered before, so for that reason alone it gets a thumbs up from me. And congratulations also to the hoards of Bendettes who managed to contain themselves until the very end of the play. Only then did they consider the question, "to squeal, or not to squeal?"
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)