Oh Morrissey...

When I last fell in love - during that golden glowy period I couldn't hear a song without thinking 'Yes' that's exactly how I feel (particularly Marvin Gaye). Then of course you move through that period as your relationship deepens and you stop having such thoughts.

Well in this tense, scary period of London's/Britain's history I am once again noticing lyrics that seem appropriate. I posted the Jam lyrics the other day. This morning on the training my mp3 player chucked this song out:

"Panic on the streets of London
Panic on the streets of Birmingham
I wonder to myself
Could life ever be sane again ?

The Leeds side-streets that you slip down
I wonder to myself
Hopes may rise on the Grasmere
But Honey Pie, you're not safe here
So you run down
To the safety of the town

But there's Panic on the streets of Carlisle
Dublin, Dundee, Humberside
I wonder to myself

Burn down the disco
Hang the blessed DJ
Because the music that they constantly play
IT SAYS NOTHING TO ME ABOUT MY LIFE
Hang the blessed DJ
Because the music they constantly play

On the Leeds side-streets that you slip down
Provincial towns you jog 'round
Hang the DJ, Hang the DJ, Hang the DJ
Hang the DJ, Hang the DJ, Hang the DJ
HANG THE DJ, HANG THE DJ, HANG THE DJ
HANG THE DJ, HANG THE DJ
HANG THE DJ, HANG THE DJ
Hang the DJ, Hang the DJ, Hang the DJ
HANG THE DJ, HANG THE DJ
HANG THE DJ, HANG THE DJ
Hang the DJ, Hang the DJ, Hang the DJ
HANG THE DJ, HANG THE DJ
HANG THE DJ, HANG THE DJ
Hang the DJ, Hang the DJ, Hang the DJ
HANG THE DJ "

Ok perhaps not all of the sentiments are apposite. And I'm not advocating hanging DJs although there are a few I would like taken off the air. But what really gets me about this song is the reminder that musically we have a political void. Artists address issues but no longer through their music. They wear t-shirts, they sloganise at Live8 but that's it. Where is the next generation of protest singers? Where were the anti-war anthems?

The Manics, Elvis Costello and others don't seem bothered any more. Billy Bragg is still doing his thing but (much as I love him) he is irrelevent to the mainstream of music buyers. His songs about asylum seekers, racial integration and anti-facism are great but who hears them? Perhaps there is no appetite in Britain for political song anymore but I can't believe that's true. Step forward the new voice - PLEASE

In The City

"In the city there's a thousand men in uniform
And I've heard they now have the right to kill a man"
The Jam - In The City

The recent shooting in Stockwell has left me in two minds. My libertarian side baulks at the concept of armed police and yet this scenario is not black and white. The death of this man is a tragedy for his friends and family, but also a tragedy for the police who shot him. They made a tough call in a split second. To take someone's life in the belief that it would save others must be hard enough to do but at least it can be rationalised later. But to find out that you got it wrong and that an innocent man is dead. Well that's a hell of a burden to live with.

I find myself erring on the side of protecting the many by sacrificing the rights of the few, even if that is the right to life. I do not believe that anyone has the right to commit mass murder. If the only way to stop them is to kill them then so be it. Do two wrongs make a right? I don't know - there will be a lot of people on the left shifting uncomfortably in their seats right now.

What I do know is that if I saw someone trying to kill one of my loved ones I would do whatever was necessary to stop them - yes even I'd take their life.

Hopefully I'll never be in that situation and thankfully I'm not a copper.

Alas poor xxxxxxxxxx....

I just finished the latest Harry Potter book. Note to self: in future do not read death scenes on the train. Trying not to cry whilst surrounded by harrassed commuters is not much fun.

So in the end I didn't cry when xxxxxxxx died. But it was certainly moving. No grand heroic self-sacrificing death and probably all the more real for that fact. And now the final book is set up to be a cracker. A quest novel with the confrontation to end all confrontations to look forward to at the end of it. And only 2 years or so to wait before it comes out.

My shiner....

Is turning from purple to yellow. MMMmMmmm. How attractive!

My friend Paul...

...is in hospital as I write and by now should have had his cancer op. We missed him last night at the quiz where we tied for 1st place. He would have taken us over the line.

Get well soon Paul - we miss you

big BIG bang

It's been a crazy few days, starting with the vigil in Trafalgar Square and ending with a black eye. I shall go through it all in chronological order.

big - Thursday 14th July
So I went to the Trafalgar Squar vigil. It was a good turnout although not as many people as for the Make Poverty History demo a few months back. The speakers were on the whol very good although a few bizarre poem choices were made. Following on from my we're not afraid post there was an incident just before the vigil started that served to reinforce my views.

From just behind me I heard this horrendous scream. I turned round to see an African woman in loose fitting robes. As she stopped screaming she started muttering under her breath. Now both of these things were worrying. The first because the bus bomber had apparently let out an unearthly scream before dying, and the second because Israeli guidance on how to spot suicide bombers includes that they mutter prayers under their breath before dying. Being So terribly terribly British we all edged away from her until there was about 2 metres of clearance around her, but bizarrely no-one ran or panicked. I think we were all too spooked. Then she started saying "Don't take my picture to make money from. Don't you dare make money from my picture". Again, very worrying. At that point a policeman came onto the scene and asked if she felt hot (ie have you got sunstroke or are you drunk). She replied "no but I will be soon". Again another comment that could have indicated a bomber.

At that point I decided to move on, no panic but my heart was pounding faster and faster and my legs were getting wobbly. I decided that she probably was either a particularly sick individual drawing attention to herself or was perhaps mentally ill rather than being a suicide bomber. But I did not want to push my luck. Of course as we know there was no bomb in Trafalgar Square and after over 2 hours it was over.

For some reason I made my way by tube to Euston. Coming out of Euston I could see Russell Square still sealed off. As I made my way down the Euston Road to Kings X, heartbreaking posters lined the walls from desperate families clinging to the hope that their missing loved ones might have survived.

I popped into the Kings X branch of WHSmiths to get a magazine for the journey home and noticed that outside there was a book of condolence. The queue was not too long and as I wasn't in a rush I thought I'd pay my respects. I got talking to a couple of lads in front of me. They were friends of Richard Ellery who whilst missing, they accepted had died. These were lads in the truest sense of the word and they did not know why they had travelled from Ipswich except they knew they had to do something. Richard had only come to London for a one-day course and it cost him his life. A week after the event they couldn't get their heads around it.

So I signed the book and as I headed to Pentonville Road I spotted the small garden of remembrance, chock full of flowers and tributes. It moved me to tears, and I think I needed to cry because afterwards I felt much more comfortable. Very sad still, but perhaps it just helped me deal with a few things.

BIG Friday 15th July
And I was back in London on Friday with my g/f to see Queen in Hyde Park. What a show! I won't bore readers with a blow by blow account, but 85,000 people singing Imagine in tribute to the victims of the bombings was mindblowing. To cap it all, during the finale the band played We Are The Champions and on the big screens they showed pictures of members of the emergency services, 5000 of whom had been given free tickets to the concert. Wonderful. Queen aren't the same without Freddie, but Paul Rodgers proved himself to be a great showman in his own right.

Bang Sunday 17th July
So there I was playing cricket. I was keeping wicket and halfway through the innings my friend Subash was bowling his spin and I was right up to the stumps. The next thing I know the ball has lept from a good length and smacked me on my right cheekbone just below the eye. Quick as a flash I was on the ground clutching my face as my teammates clustered around me. Cuts below my eye, swelling and a nice shiner are what I have to show as a result. At least my eye went black or people would have thought I was some sort of freak with a deformed swollen face.

To cap it all we lost ending a record 4 game winning streak. Still at least the weather was nice eh?

We're Not Afraid....

...or are we? The werenotafraid.com website is at first sight an inspiring a fortifying website and I do not wish to knock it. Indeed I've submitted a picture to it. And yet the wary glances around my train carriage at new passengers, the way my heart sinks like a stone when I hear sirens - surely these are symptoms of fear.

So I've come to the conclusion that yes i am a bit afraid and there is nothing wrong in that. The challenge is how you deal with your fear. My response is to not let it govern my life.

In the middle of writing this blog came the 2 minutes silence. As I headed to the lift I could see people already outside their offices in preperation. All of the local eateries and hostelries had closed their doors, their staff outside with their customers.

Outside in the beautiful sunshine with it's cooling breeze we observed the silence and thought of the victims. Looking around I could see what London is all about - a real cross-section of humanity, male/female, all ages, all races and united in a resolve to stand up to terrorism. I am sure that each one of us who marked the 2 minutes is dealing with last week's events in their own way - but I found it extremely heartening to have shared such a communal moment of defiance and remembrance.

This evening I will go to Trafalgar Square for the remembrance event and tomorrow I am off to see Queen in Hyde Park. If I were letting fear dictate my actions I would steer well clear of such attractive terrorist targets. But I am in charge, not the terrorists. So I will go tonight and remember, and on Friday I will enjoy the concert. And at the back of my mind will be the knowledge that I could be placing myself in danger - but that's where it will stay - at the back of my mind. Defiance trumps fear every time. This is my life and I will chose how to live it.

Getting back to normal

First day back in the office after last week's bombings and.... pretty much back to normal except it's not. Everyone's showing a bit more interest in everyone else. It's as if we all know that we could so easily have lost one of our number. Well, I guess that's true. Some of my colleagues came pretty close to being caught up directly in the bombings and while we waited for news of the no-shows on Thursday there was that awful possibility that we could have lost someone. We didn't, but it could so easily have been a different story.

And then at lunchtime today London Bridge was evacuated and we heard the tell-tale bang of a controlled explosion. It turns out that the suspect package was in fact the belongings of a homeless person, stashed in a skip for the day. You can't be too careful but interestingly now that we know we are targets, the feeling looking out of our window wasn't terror but fascination. After all, Al Qaeda don't give warnings so the chances were it was a false alarm. The police yet again did a great job, the area was cleared and the whole thing was over inside 30 minutes.

A selection of t-shirts are now available showing defiance against the bombers (http://www.spreadshirt.net/shop.php?sid=73338&op=articles). I can't decide whether I think they are cool. I think they are as long as the chap selling them does as he says and donates the profits to the Red Cross. Otherwise it would be a rather ghoulish enterprise. And that dilemma in a nutshell sums up the Brits. We are both bloody-minded and sceptical. God Bless Us!

Bastards

I missed being caught up in this mornings bombings thanks to the lateness of my train. When will these bastards ever learn that you win no arguments by killing ordinary people in indiscriminate attacks?

I refuse to let my life be dictated by these people.

My thoughts are with those who lie injured today, and the families of those killed.

God speed.

What's an E between friends?

Today was a special day for my cricket club. Having endured 2 years without a pavillion as a result of arson, today was the official opening of the new pavillion. The guest of honour was Derek Randall, former England batsman. Randall was one of the first cricketers I remember watching along with Botham and Bob Willis. He was the finest fielder I have ever seen, a great batsman and someone who was always entertaining to watch.

And today, Derek was great. He did the ribbon cutting duties with aplomb, and made a great speech which entertained everyone from the 100+ junior players to those with many more grey hairs than I.

What a shame that the plaque that was put up in the pavillion to mark this momentous day spelt his name wrong. Derek Randell indeed - ooooppppssss! There but for the grace of God....

Make Poverty History

After my exploits yesterday it might seem a bit hypocritical to post this. But as tomorrow is Live 8, and the G8 Summit is soon to begin in Gleneagles, I thought I had to give a shout out to www.makepovertyhistory.org

It is about time the world grew up and realised we are all in this together, and it's not just 'someone else's problem'.

Right - I'm off my soapbox - have a great weekend

I could get used to this

So as I alluded to in a previous post I spent yesterday afternoon and evening out with an old University friend, 4 hours of which was spent in the rarified environment of a Gentlemen's Club. The club was of the Philleas Fogg variety and not a Minty Rhino.

It was an incredible insight into days gone by. I was greeted at the door by a servant who then showed me to a large day room filled with old red leather sofas and arm chairs. People were sat around reading the paper or dozing. There was more than one Roly Birkin on show.

Then my friend arrived and he showed me around. The central atrium has a mosaic floor, marble columns and large portraits and busts of Victorian notables all around the oak pannelled walls. A 1st floor mezzanine provides a wonderful view, and above is a glass vaulted roof.

We went into the dining room and for the first time in my life felt pampered by servants. The menu I was presented with had no prices on. Apparently it is deemed vulgar for guests to see such things so only my friend knew how much things were going to cost. The wine cost £44 for a bottle, but that was at wholesale cost price - a members' benefit. In a restaurant just around the corner the same bottle would have been £200+.

The food was very nice and afterwards we moved upstairs for a couple of games of snooker. Neither of us were particularly good, but playing there, smoking a havana cigar, hmmm it felt good.

Afterwards we left and went to a pub where much ales was consumed. Eventually I hopped on a train to go home, and in the words of Samuel Pepys: "and so to bed".

Unfrtunately the worst part of the ageing process hit me today. I can still drink like I used to. When my drinking boots are on I can consume vast quantities. However, I no longer wake up fresh faced in the morning. As I write it is nearly lunchtime and I still feel a bit worse for wear. Even 5 years ago I would have been as fresh as a daisy.