Life is Good...

Shame about the weather though?

Yes folks, London is warmish but, sadly London is grey. Now I don't mind this in weather, we do after all live in a temperate climate. It would however be nice to have a little less grey in the daytime.

Sunday morning found me and the ever lovely Slinx wandering hither and thither in the lovely Columbia Road flower market. I lived very close to this and the other East end markets for years and I have to attest that they are a great day out. Get up early for a Sunday and head to Liverpool Street Station for about 10AM. Walk through Spitalfields Market and enjoy the atmosphere. Head across the road and cut up down Fournier Street and past Gilbert and George's house then through Brick Lane Market. Enjoy the sights, sounds and people. Hell, even buy some things or eat something. In short just mingle. Then head up to Columbia Road. If you have been following my albeit loose directions you should suddenly find yourself in a 'Garden center gone mad in a street thing'

It wasn't raining on Sunday which helped the walk. Have a cup of coffee or something to eat and buy flowers till you can carry no more. This market, as are all the Sunday markets here is wonderful and part of the fabric of London. All have been established on the same spot for well over a hundred years and they reek of history. Only the costumes have changed. I haven't even mentioned Petticoat Lane market as its not really what it was. But it is in Petticoat Lane and the name alone is reminiscent.

Where was I? Oh yes Columbia Road. Should you happen here you may notice a pub at the one end going east. Its called The Royal Oak and in years past it was machine gunned by the Kray Twins in real life, machine gunned again by the Kemp twins in the film about the Krays and then used (tongue in cheek I think) as "Samoan Joe's" in the film "Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrels"

These days it has forgone its time as a rather lifeless market traders boozer and been taken over by strange types.

To be more specific it has become a day center for clubbers who really aren't going to make it home after a Saturday night (or maybe not ever at all..) With great music on the decks (if you like anthem, real music songs) it serves alcohol and humour to a whole selection of miscreants. Think fag ends on the floor, fags at the bar (its quite gay, but not in an intimidating way if you arn't) people dressed in T shirts or all black, dancing and posturing in a very happy way and you are half way there. It's difficult to describe but I like it. The music was great, people were alarmingly friendly as they all seemed to be friends of a friendly herbalist and I completely recommend you visit for a snifter. Just to see.

If you do get sat down some of the best entertainment is had watching ordinary (read; non drugged) market visitors coming in for a quick drink or a pee. The tourists especially..

"Come on, don't be scared, you're perfectly safe....;)

Sadly, they usually run off.

Oh. We liked the little dog on the bar. It doesn't belong to the pub but it seemed very happy.



Its a Westie you know... 

Don't stay to long or you risk joining in....

We moved back through to Spitalfields Market where we shopped and then had some very good Tapas at Meson Los Barriles. Go there and watch the market watch you.

It's all worth it and I'm not issuing any refunds at all.


Do you ever feel like you are being followed?

-T

Chrysolina americana L

It's a new beetle. No not the VW car with the engine in the boot but a new pest. Apparently it eats Rosemary and Lavender. Hence its other name as the Lavender beetle. I know all this because I've looked it up. I've looked it up because I've got em on my Lavender. I shall not poison them because this would harm the bees, and I like bees. I will however keep a close eye on the little buggers and see how much damage they cause. If it gets bad then there will be a soapy water of death moment in my quiet hamlet.

They are beautiful to look at, like shiny metallic VW cars with purple stripes on their silver reflective backs. You woudn't think you would see mirrored surfaces on creatures would you? Terminator beetles even. Have a look..


See? 

In other news I have done the sum total of nothing today. A random day off in the week (although pre-arranged) is one of the great inventions of our time. I got up late, lazed about. Had a pleasant pub lunch with my good mate The Duke and slept on the lawn into the afternoon. In short I frittered away my time in the fashion of a carefree immortal. Which of course I am not.

I truly recommend it. Back to work tomorrow...

Not Dead Yet

Just in case you think I have retired you should be aware that life a pace continues on all levels. The beautiful Slinx is delightful as ever and London's night haunts are still frequented. In fact only this Saturday past saw another Wapping mad house party. Slightly smaller than previous efforts there was only 60 people or so. As usual though it was gone 6 AM when bed was reached..

I'm off to the cinema tomorrow. What shall I go and see?

thegardener@gmail.com

Pants

Well to be more specific for the moment, Trousers. Men's trousers to be exact. I am bringing the full weight of my focus onto the thorny subject of, yes, men's legs, and what to wrap them inside. We might get to pants later, we shall see.

First a mental experiment. Try and envisage men's legs through their trousers. I don't know, just think of the last time you were in the proximity of a crowd of ordinary men. That's it. Hold that picture. It may be the tube this morning, or the bus, or the street. If you are very unusual you may be a camera man in the house of commons. Or even odder, the presenter at a photocopy sales conference. I don't know? It's up to you, this is after all your visualisation. If you are girl or bat for the other side on occasion you are not allowed to cheat and think of good legs, like those on a rugby team, or indeed a football team. Unless you are Rebecca Loos. If you are that Rebecca and you are reading this then you are allowed special dispensation because the legs you often see aren't the ordinary type of random white nobbly hairy stick or lumpy things I am imagining that most of you thought of on first thunk.

And MEP, think of accountants, not Military Fitness. That's cheating.

Right. Are we all there now? For most of us its not a pleasant thought is it? If it is then you might wish to refer back to the above and read again. Or you are odd.

Anyway, I don't have time to address the minority as this is a democracy. I have the pen, so I win.

The problem is this, at least from a male perspective. We have to cover them up in some way mostly, often when we go to work. Which trousers are really suitable?

I, for the most part lately have been wearing jeans. Yes I know we can't all wear jeans to work every day and quite frankly I'd rather not all the time but what are the alternatives? I have been looking around and there only really seem to be two options for the relatively non media office that's not in the city and therefore does not warrant a suit.

Option one: Black trousers that all seem to have the same characteristics, namely the consistency of an onion bag, with patchy shine after 3 wears and a high nylon content to attract cat hairs and fag ash in equal measures.

Option two: Faux, smart combats that I'm sure only work if you work somewhere where you think its cool to have a stupid haircut and you do web design.

So dear readers. Help me with this one. What is man to wear as an alternative to jeans? In the summer so he looks smart (but not too smart) and doesn't suffer either 'rucking in the arse / crotch area or enough static to drag children from across the street(now there's an unseemly thought...). And I don't want to model the 'post room' boy staypress creases either!

Your advice stencilled in red on the GPO box outside 11-14 Southampton Place WC1A please. Or your money back...

I may comment on pants later. We don't like to throw them away do we?

In the Spirit of Things

I thought I'd try again. After all, if you don't try what's the point? To soften you up first is a picture I took on Sunday. Its hardly exciting, but then again its Garlic from my garden, picked by me late on Sunday afternoon.


Garlic Indeed 

There, that's us all grounded then.

I took a risk on the tube tonight. Obviously I'd had a couple of pints. Unusually I found myself in a scene reminiscent of a Spike Lee film. Onto my carriage walked a crowd of eight guys, all young but aspiring to be in the hood. I have never seen so many Nike clothes outside a Darren Chambers benefit sale. The fact that they all were wearing 'left ear' gold with diamond cluster earrings marked them out as boys in a fraternity. They entertained themselves by trying to smile, jab the peaks of their baseball caps into the faces of fellow passengers and invading everyone's personal space. As there were seats either side and opposite me, some of them sat down, all legs and bling chains akimbo. I was surrounded.

The atmosphere was tense as the mostly knackered office types around smelt the testosterone and tried to hide. The boys sensed it and went into show off mode.

Much slapping of hands and cuffs round the head were exchanged, and much talk of "linkin" in the morning.

At this point the guy next to me decided to make a point. He took a picture of me on his Nokia and gleefully showed it around. I noticed the four fingered gold knuckle duster, they laughed at the shot. Much fun was being had. People were cowering.

He thought he had the upper hand so he shouted out "Look, I make this guy a movie star". His gold teeth flashed. He filmed me for a few seconds with the phone then raucously laughed.

Never one to do anything sensible I took my own phone from my pocket, and surrounded by a sea of muscles and sports wear, hit the video switch and held my phone inches from brave boys face.

His teeth flashed again, this time with bravado I thought he blushed. The carriage went very, very quiet indeed. Sharp inward breaths were quietly drawn. I stopped, hit the play button, showed him the video and laughed at him whilst smiling...

There was a pause..

He looked me in the eye.

His mates looked at me

I looked at them

They cracked up and the boy next to me was toast, out fronted by his target. They took him down in a sea of piss-takes.

I may have been being very stupid I don't know, but it said to me that however people try to be, a group of blokes is a group of blokes whatever. A useful lesson there I think.

It may have been dangerous? But I always advise not acting the victim. Unless you really are of course, in which case its already to late. Not that I'm casting aspersions on the lads with the gold chains, teeth and probably even prosthetic limbs on the ride but they were a bit scary to those not in their group.

As someone once said. In the land of the witless, the half wit is king.

Summer is Nice

Enough said, Its lovely.

Oh, I shall be having a garden party next month. It should be good.

Arrgghh

I spent an hour writing for you tonight, only to have some computer gremlin fuck it all up at the last minute...

*sob*

I'm off to bed. It will have to wait untill tommorow.

It was good too. I'm most vexed.

Hum a happy tune....