Years ago before the arrival mains water and domestic plumbing the village pump or well was a hub within the community. It is where ordinary people met on a daily basis; where the lonely found some company, where gossip or news was shared. It was where linen, both dirty and clean, was aired. It was where 'Care in the community' existed before the term was hijacked by politicians in order to justify a lack of care or concern or an unwillingness to spend taxpayers money on the needs of the taxpayers.
After the plumbing arrived the pump or well, although still symbolic, ceased to be that hub. What was left was the village pub which served the same purpose.
Not only was the pub a hub, the good pub landlord was a marriage counsellor, a referee, a psychotherapist, a keeper of the peace, a short term loan provider and a friend. Very little violence occurs within the walls of a well run pub. To be barred from the village pub was a fate to be feared, it was exclusion from the community, it was ostracism.
The wealthy landowners and gentry did not need the village pub save for occasional visits for purposes of condescension, a leer and a grope at a pretty barmaid or to buy a secret bottle.
In this part of West London these hubs are vanishing to be replaced by hipster gastro pubs, Vodka breweries, estate agents offices and expensive apartments. The local working class community is being deprived of one of its focal points and is being offered no alternative. All the 'gentrifiers' see is a need to make a profit and a need to, in order to make themselves feel comfortable with their consciences, remove hoi polo from sight.
By 'gentrifying' the last remaining pub, the working class local community is in essence being told that their needs are in no way to be considered... Fuck off!
The re-imagination of the 'Red Lemon' on All Saints Road as an expensive Italian, hipster, artisanal, craft beer 'pub'/restaurant is a perfect example of this.
Red Lemon before and after being turned into a hipster fish shop
RBKC do not help in any way by allowing this sort of thing to take place because RBKC decision makers aspire to the same elevated personal Utopia as the gentrifiers themselves. No consideration is given to the discrimination against and displacement of the local community.
The only place for a reasonably priced beer now is either at home or on the street. Gone is the only refuge for the working class man wanting a beer or two on his way home or an escape from a potential domestic crisis. No one cares, just 'KEEP OFF MY LAND'.
Gentrification often wraps itself in terms such as: 'Exclusive'.... To exclude; 'Discriminating'..... To discriminate against, 'Artisan'..... Pretentiously expensive in order to exclude poor people.
The village pump has been fenced off by people who only drink bottled water and champagne.
All the Gastro pubs and hipster bars should be forced to call themselves: The DOG in the MANGER'.
All of the above is why the KPH on Ladbroke Grove should remain an honest local boozer.
It is the last one. If RBKC had any sense, care or imagination they would tax the gentrifiers a bit more and spend the money on buying the KPH freehold and giving it to the community to ensure the continuing existence of our village pump.
Whatever comes to mind before I alter it with the overpaint of time. Mostly satire, poetry and fiction but occasional unreliable fact, as all facts seems to be today. From deepest Notting Hill. London.
Saturday, 22 April 2017
Saturday, 1 April 2017
Lowkey Silcherster Estate development protest.
Popped in to look at the Silchester Estate development proposal exhibition this morning. Residents were out to protest the proposals.
I'll be writing about the development plans at length at a later time.
Got to say hello to 'Lowkey', someone previously not on my radar, an interesting man. Check out the video below.
And then read this: http://www.mintpressnews.com/MyMPN/after-being-targeted-by-the-uk-govt-british-rapper-lowkey-returns/
I'll be writing about the development plans at length at a later time.
Got to say hello to 'Lowkey', someone previously not on my radar, an interesting man. Check out the video below.
And then read this: http://www.mintpressnews.com/MyMPN/after-being-targeted-by-the-uk-govt-british-rapper-lowkey-returns/
Friday, 31 March 2017
Vinyl Cafe reopens on Portobello Road.
Saturday, 25 March 2017
Westway Development Trust, yurts and RBKC.
From my mole in Portobello Green.
Many of us have wondered at the small yurts appearing in Portobello Green.
Perhaps this snippet of a conversation ( between a blonde woman in heels and a curly haired man of elfin grace ) overheard today in the spring sunshine will help explain:
Him; What's with the yurts?
Her: We are preparing accommodation for the refugees who will be arriving soon.
Him: Where from, Syria?
Her: No! The Silchester estate when you turf the residents out in order to gentrify it.
Him: Now now, no need to be sarky. we are simply improving the quality of opportunities for some local residents to make some real improvements to their bank balances.
Her. That is what I thought. To that end I felt that by assisting with the temporary re-housing of what you call scum before you renege on your promises (in order to facilitate the lining of crony pockets) I hoped you might turn a blind eye to our similar plans for the Portobello Green area when it comes to planning consent.
Him: I love it when you talk dirty.
Editors note: This is obviously fake news and should be treated as such. The use of 'fake news' in satire is as old as the hills. The use of satire to take a poke at abusers of position or wealth is even older.
There are plans afoot however to 'socially cleanse' and 'gentrify' the Silchester Estate area. More on that another day.
Many of us have wondered at the small yurts appearing in Portobello Green.
Perhaps this snippet of a conversation ( between a blonde woman in heels and a curly haired man of elfin grace ) overheard today in the spring sunshine will help explain:
Him; What's with the yurts?
Her: We are preparing accommodation for the refugees who will be arriving soon.
Him: Where from, Syria?
Her: No! The Silchester estate when you turf the residents out in order to gentrify it.
Him: Now now, no need to be sarky. we are simply improving the quality of opportunities for some local residents to make some real improvements to their bank balances.
Her. That is what I thought. To that end I felt that by assisting with the temporary re-housing of what you call scum before you renege on your promises (in order to facilitate the lining of crony pockets) I hoped you might turn a blind eye to our similar plans for the Portobello Green area when it comes to planning consent.
Him: I love it when you talk dirty.
Editors note: This is obviously fake news and should be treated as such. The use of 'fake news' in satire is as old as the hills. The use of satire to take a poke at abusers of position or wealth is even older.
There are plans afoot however to 'socially cleanse' and 'gentrify' the Silchester Estate area. More on that another day.
Thursday, 23 March 2017
Sex education in the sixties. A red herring.
As a six year old my entire knowledge of things sexual was obtained from eight year old boys in the school playground, they having been informed at six years old themselves. In the same fashion this information had been passed down, year on year, since Edward first confessed in 1066. This information was of course to be believed because it came with the declaration: It's true. Cross my heart and hope to die in a cellar full of rats'.
At age 11 my mother tried to disabuse me of my illicitly gained knowledge by placing on my pillow a booklet on the reproductive cycle of fruit flies ,which I assumed, was where she got her knowledge from.
How on earth, I wondered, could a grown woman with six children (there was nothing in the publication about contraception.) think that fruit flies were anything to do with sex stuff. And furthermore the booklet did not contain the declaration: Cross my heart and hope to die.....
It could only be a lie or a red herring at best.
At age 11 my mother tried to disabuse me of my illicitly gained knowledge by placing on my pillow a booklet on the reproductive cycle of fruit flies ,which I assumed, was where she got her knowledge from.
How on earth, I wondered, could a grown woman with six children (there was nothing in the publication about contraception.) think that fruit flies were anything to do with sex stuff. And furthermore the booklet did not contain the declaration: Cross my heart and hope to die.....
It could only be a lie or a red herring at best.
Wednesday, 15 March 2017
NU(I)T by The Countess.
A wonderful film from Alex Zapak. It's either suicide or genius.
excert from NU(I)T by thecountess Alex zapak ..LIVE FROM GROUCHO SHOW ..I SPENT LABOUR DAY DRY from THE COUNTESS on Vimeo.
Monday, 13 March 2017
Arc of a diver
This is from the archives. first posted on the poetry blog in 2009.
I am aware that I am being most horribly punished for my actions and there is nothing I can do because I have already gone too far. This is unequivocal.
My assumption was; when my life flashed through my minds eye as I fell to my death, that it would contain itself to my past!
Such is the speed at which the human brain can work when pressed that I am allowed the luxury of this consideration as I watch both the wall of the multistory slip by and my future (or what future I would have had, had I not decided to take this final action) flash forward.
So now I know! For one nano-second I am enlightened and it has taken my own snuffing of the candle to illuminate me; what a paradox and surely one that only people such as me have ever been aware of… For if one dies a natural death at the moment specified in our timelines there would be no future life left to taunt us!
In this split second as I plummet headlong to the concrete below I am allowed the horror of seeing the Cancer misdiagnosed and good health regained. I witness the love and patience of my wife as she supports me through the trials of becoming successful as an artist, as she bears me a beautiful daughter who burgeons into an even more beautiful woman who brings two delightful grandchildren into my no longer possible life. I witness the retrospective at the Tate and the accolades that that itself would bring. I kneel before the King and humbly accept my Knighthood. I die peacefully at home, aged 92, surrounded by the people I would have loved!
It occurs to me that my punishment, though harsh, ends now.
My assumption was; when my life flashed through my minds eye as I fell to my death, that it would contain itself to my past!
Such is the speed at which the human brain can work when pressed that I am allowed the luxury of this consideration as I watch both the wall of the multistory slip by and my future (or what future I would have had, had I not decided to take this final action) flash forward.
So now I know! For one nano-second I am enlightened and it has taken my own snuffing of the candle to illuminate me; what a paradox and surely one that only people such as me have ever been aware of… For if one dies a natural death at the moment specified in our timelines there would be no future life left to taunt us!
In this split second as I plummet headlong to the concrete below I am allowed the horror of seeing the Cancer misdiagnosed and good health regained. I witness the love and patience of my wife as she supports me through the trials of becoming successful as an artist, as she bears me a beautiful daughter who burgeons into an even more beautiful woman who brings two delightful grandchildren into my no longer possible life. I witness the retrospective at the Tate and the accolades that that itself would bring. I kneel before the King and humbly accept my Knighthood. I die peacefully at home, aged 92, surrounded by the people I would have loved!
It occurs to me that my punishment, though harsh, ends now.
Sunday, 12 March 2017
A stolen kiss.
I stole my first kiss
I did not know but
a kiss given freely
A kiss signalled by a
clumsily assembled pout
from carelessly painted lips
in a country bus shelter
Sheltered from buses perhaps
but not from a determined girl
nor from
the public transportation
of that first stolen kiss.
I did not know but
a kiss given freely
A kiss signalled by a
clumsily assembled pout
from carelessly painted lips
in a country bus shelter
Sheltered from buses perhaps
but not from a determined girl
nor from
the public transportation
of that first stolen kiss.
A short poem about longevity.
The older I get
the farther I go back
into memory
I imagine that
with my last breath
I will reach back to my first
and set eyes upon my mother again.
the farther I go back
into memory
I imagine that
with my last breath
I will reach back to my first
and set eyes upon my mother again.
The 1940 'Leave the Allies' Referendum plan.
Neville Chamberlain delivering Fake News.
By September 1940, 2 months into the blitz it was feared that the RAF and and British air defenses could not cope with the relentless bombing. Things looked bad for this beleaguered island but Chamberlain had a plan.
The prime minister informed his cabinet that Britain was to hold a referendum on the question 'Should we leave the Allies and join the Axis union?' "It is a win, win situation". He told them. "If we win we become masters of the Planet once more and relive our days of Empire. If we lose we will benefit from massive reparation which will enable us to grow into the most powerful nation in Europe".
"On top of that". He added. "The 350,000.00 we are currently spending on air defence can be spent on cottage hospitals and stuff like that".
When asked about German atrocities he replied: "We have been turning a blind eye to Russian atrocities quite happily up until now I can see no problem in simply changing the direction in which we cast that blind eye".
"We'll be slaughtered by the Americans". Another cabinet member opined.
"Au contraire". Chamberlain retorted. "I have been reliably informed by my cleaning lady that Japan is about to piss off the Americans greatly by attacking Pearl Harbour which will embroil America in a war of it's own along with a new found obsession with building it's 'Pacific Wall'.
A muttering of: 'Who is Pearl Harbour?". Chinese whispered it's way around the Cabinet table.
At this point Churchill stood up, necked his tumbled of brandy and bellowed: "This is bollocks. We shall defend our right to fight, whatever the cost may be, we shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never stop fighting among ourselves. How on earth can we agree on a referendum result".
The rest is not history.
Thursday, 9 February 2017
END OF THE UNION.
In triggering article 50
she shot herself in the foot
she shot herself in the foot
he had custody of the first aid kit
and the orthopaedic boot.
and the orthopaedic boot.
Saturday, 28 January 2017
Theresa May's political clitoris.
As Winston Smith dies.
In neo-totalitarian America
May walks hand in hand with Trump
stroking Churchill's pate
for a photo op.
May; an uncertain
politically horny woman
of a certain age
Chasing the bad boy the mad boy
in hope of a trade shag
beneath the bleachers.
A shag he will deny but crow about
with
with a smirk
on the bleachers.
For all Churchill's shortcomings
he fought for Britain
not for himself.
Churchill stroked no-ones head
for appeasement.
For all of Theresa's longcomings
she fights for her self
her ego
her political mojo
She has no idea who we are
or what we want
She has no idea who she is
or
what she wants
Other than Trump
tickling her political clitoris.
In neo-totalitarian America
May walks hand in hand with Trump
stroking Churchill's pate
for a photo op.
May; an uncertain
politically horny woman
of a certain age
Chasing the bad boy the mad boy
in hope of a trade shag
beneath the bleachers.
A shag he will deny but crow about
with
with a smirk
on the bleachers.
For all Churchill's shortcomings
he fought for Britain
not for himself.
Churchill stroked no-ones head
for appeasement.
For all of Theresa's longcomings
she fights for her self
her ego
her political mojo
She has no idea who we are
or what we want
She has no idea who she is
or
what she wants
Other than Trump
tickling her political clitoris.
Wednesday, 18 January 2017
Fake news
How
do we know that the news about fake news is not fake?
If the fake news is real
and the news about fake news is fake
what should we do about the fake news
about real (albeit fake) news
about fake news
about fake real news?...
No news is good news.
Real or fake.
If the fake news is real
and the news about fake news is fake
what should we do about the fake news
about real (albeit fake) news
about fake news
about fake real news?...
No news is good news.
Real or fake.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)