Gertsamtkunstwerk

Fun on my bike

Buying a bike, you fill your head with all sorts of nonsense at how cheap it is. 'Less than two pound a week for a year'. Ridiculous, of course.  I have so far bought the bare minimum of peripherals - locks, pump, puncture repair-kit. Not even lights, yet, although I intend to by the time the clocks go back. And the list of desirable, bordering on essential peripherals, is endless.

However, we have saved a small fortune on days out. The intention was, and remains, to use the bikes for travelling far afield. But we are frighteningly unfit. Last weekend we went to Streatham Hill station. I was shocked at how strenuous that was (there's a clue in the name!). But we got there. Only to find an absence of trains. So we changed our plans from "Richmond" to "local".

The weather has been a bonus. Not entirely surprising for the time of year - warm, sunny and dry  -  but better than anyone could reasonably have expected, especially after a lousy summer.  We ended up in deepest darkest Streatham, which was a surprisingly pleasant ride. A couple of pints in the Pied Bull and a strenuous climb up Streatham Common allowed a long free-wheel home, well, until the last stretch, which is a slog up to the house (it's a climb from every direction, hopefully, before too much time passes, I can read this and mock myself at my almost inability to ride the final leg home!)

On Saturday we went to Clapham Common and decided to give The Windmill a miss; it was very busy, on account of the gorgeous weather. We cycled round the common and had been out only an hour when my chain came off. Now, this was a perfect example of how I have become a very  pathetic girlie. It would have taken me seconds to replace the chain if I had applied my mind, rather than whingeing in a girlie way 'Jimmy, my chain's come off...'. They get you like that, blokes. Then five minutes later, I realised that I wasn't riding right and discovered I had a puncture. On the one occasion I had failed to bring out the pump or puncture repair kit. As far as Jimmy was concerned, the day was over. I suggested tentatively that he cycled home and back. As it only took him twenty minutes, that turned out to be a good idea.

It took us ages to repair the puncture. Or, rather, to get the pump to work. I was just about sussing it out when he decided he would take over. We had a conversation along the lines of, it won't stay in the hole, pump a bit harder, so I remarked, 'it's a bit like sex, this' to which he replied 'no, this takes longer'! Anyway, puncture repaired (it was caused by a bit of broken glass; Clapham Common seems to have way too much broken glass on too many tracks), we set off, and my bike gave off a big bang, which startled dozens of people all around. Don't know why, but the entire tyre had blown. I was not happy. I had the bright idea of walking down to Evans' on Clapham High Street and they fitted a new tyre, at not inconsiderable cost - although it was obvious that it was a far better quality than the one that had originally come with the bike. At Evans' they said "You'll be in next week for a matching one on the front".

I have to say that I was a bit pissed off. Punctures are inevitable and trivial, and I've mended plenty in my time, so I didn't expect a blow-out. I don't especially want to be getting new tyres too often (although the tread is wearing down significantly on the three remaining tyres on two bikes). We cycled across the common and down to the Nightingale, which I had never been in before, I don't think I've even been past!. It seemed decadent to be sitting outdoors as if it were summer, yet with the glorious autumnal light. And then back home. Miscommunication meant that we ended up cycling along the South Circular, which wasn't nice. The cars were fine, it was the encounter with first the coach then the articulated lorry that scared me. And the hill...

Yesterday we headed out round the back roads to Wandsworth Common. Neither of us has previously set foot on Wandsworth Common, so that was pleasant. Although it's not the most exciting Common in our area - it makes Clapham Common look exciting by contrast...maybe! Actually that's unfair, we stayed this side of the Railway Line, and the maps seem to indicated that there is more interesting stuff over the railway. We had planned our own route up going, and, other than crossing Balham Hill, it was fine. We even spotted a pub that neither of us knew existed, and might actually be the closest Youngs Pub to home, The Grove, so that might well be visited sometime. And we have been inspired to plan future outings round the existence of Young's pubs, of which there are gratifyingly many in South West London. On the way back we followed the 'official' cycle routes, which were inferior to mine - as well as taking us down roads with parked cars either side, we also had the dubious pleasure of passing Sainsburys, whose customers (Sunday afternoon) were characterised by a general sense of panic and despair, coupled with bad driving.

It was just so nice to sit for a while on the edge of Tooting Common, soaking up the sunshine, and watching the other people also taking advantage of a gorgeous day.

So near, yet so far...

How often does it happen that you are sitting on a park bench, with an unobstructed view of a duckpond and you see a swan spread its wings and fly across the surface of the pond? Not very often, I would wager.

Supposing that does happen to you, what are the chances that you would have a camera with you, round your neck, switched on and have already being taking photos? Even less often!

That happened to me the other week, and I fowled up big time. What could have been a memorable and excellent photo was, instead this

Bradford & Bingley to nationalise

Link: BBC NEWS | Business | Treasury to nationalise B&B bank.

It doesn't seem that long ago that institutions such as Bradford and Bingley and Northern Rock were Building Societies, Mutuals, owned by their savers and borrowers. The rapacious City Boys saw opportunities to make big profits and proposed takeovers, with sweeteners of almost several hundred pounds for members, who proceeded to benefit from the lowering of savings rates and raising of borrowing rates (relative to base rate)...um, maybe not benefit.

And now look...

It gives me no pleasure to observe that Capitalism and the Free Market seem not to have an effing vindaloo...

Paul Newman RIP

BBC NEWS | Entertainment | Obituary: Paul Newman.

The passing of a legend. I had read he wasn't well, so this was no surprise, but, still...

I wasn't so much of a fan when I was younger, but became so increasingly as the years went by.

RIP

Tamerlano in the cinema

Another example of ROH's rubbish website - not as crazy as the Turandot "cast change" - is the interesting cast listing for the upcoming cinema showing of April's Madrid Tamerlano, which lists the cast as:

Starring
Placido Domingo (accent on the a of Placido, little line from bottom left to top right (forward slash))
Monica Bacelli
Ann Hallenberg
Isabel Rey
Sara Mingardo
Patricia Bardon

Oh, that Placido Domingo.

My nearest cinema showing it is the Empire Leicester Square, but booking doesn't seem to have opened yet

An open letter to the Royal Opera House

I am appalled and upset by the experience I have had today booking tickets.

To cut a very long story short, I logged on 8 am and was put  in the waiting room, where I waited. For half an hour. In the meantime I was exchanging emails with friends who were crashing out of the site. At half eight I started getting Page Load Errors, so I spent quarter of an hour manually refreshing the page fruitlessly. I went away from the PC for 15 minutes and tried refreshing again, in vain. I then had to go out, to work. I tried a few times during the day. Most of the time I just went to an error reporting page, sometimes I got in the waiting room but as soon as the page auto-refreshed it went to the Error Reporting Page. That may be because of reduced functionality at work - our system is certified by CESG as being secure enough for the Government Secure Intranet. In any case, I go to work to work, which is why I allowed myself an hour to get booked.

I returned home and logged on just after 7. I still had to wait in the waiting room (despite having received an email saying - it's a lot quieter now you shouldn't need be in the waiting room). Each time I clicked on the buy this link I was unlogged. I concluded this was because I was using Mozilla Firefox, and reluctantly I switched to IE 7, which I hate. I finally got somewhere, where - up a blind alley. I am particularly upset that the Evening with Rolando Villazon is sold out - that was the main reason I went on the site at 8am. I checked two dates for Flying Ductchman, to find there was nothing available between £14 and £160 (and the £14 or under were either very restricted view or standing).

Beggars Opera, sold out. All my other selections, a choice between really dismal or really expensive seats. Final result at 1940 hours, nothing.

I accept that when it comes to finite resources, it's a bit of a lottery; I have often accepted that by waiting until the evening I have to settle for less than ideal. I accept that certain things will be tremendously popular. I just feel very aggrieved that having made the effort to log on a minute or two before eight, I have lost out to people who may not even have tried until lunchtime.

I would like to think I may stand a chance of decent tickets when public booking opens, but I don't pay my Friends fee in order to take my chance with casual users. As that doesn't open until 10 am, I won't be able to do it from home without taking time off - which will be difficult to swing anyway, because of meetings that are set up.

We seem to have been here before and the problems were resolved, but rather than stick with something that seemed to be working, it seems that some clever-clogs has turned it into a system that can't cope.

I realise that I am not alone in complaining - I am a member of London Opera Community Yahoo Group, and several friends have had prompt and pleasant apologies. But I am upset, and stressed, and I just want to scream 'it's not fair!', because I did the best I could, I was there on site when it opened, and I gave it an hour, on a work day.

Yours sincerely

Don Giovanni

I attended this at Covent Garden on Thursday evening.

It was the same production that I saw fourteen months ago, and some of the cast was the same. I had sat in the Lower Slips back then (two performances, one on the Left and one on the Right). This time I was in the Amphitheatre proper, in that delightful seat where legroom is restricted by a box containing wiring or somesuch, and where a small portion of the front stage is cut off from view, but where, in my experience, the acoustics are as good, and generally better, than anywhere in the house.

I have to conclude that DG is never going to be my favourite opera. It certainly has its moments, and the story is such that one can debate motives, characters and so on. But it's just too bloody long. Two acts each of 90 minutes, and plenty of scope for cutting...not that I would advocate cutting, but there are so many longeurs. Often the story advances during the most dreary musical parts, and the best music does little too advance the plot. Although that isn't in itself a bad thing.

I have mixed feelings about the Zambello production that plays at Covent Garden. I definitely prefer the Calixto Beito production that has played at ENO (don't know whether they have ditched it). I don't like the sets: so often Zambello sets seem to dominate the stage, limiting the scope for action and rendering much of the singing to the front of the stage where there is a risk if it being park-and-bark. And yet, there is enough intelligent direction of the cast, many of whom are good on the acting side anyway, that there is never any danger of it being static and formulaic.

Although there is scope for criticism, most of the cast performed well overall. There have been criticisms of the fast tempi employed by Charles Mackerras (as he took to the podium, a voice behind me exclaimed 'he's eighty two!') ; having heard Ivor Bolton's funereal interpretation I would say, the faster the better, please. However, I did find that the orchestra drowned out the singers on far too many occasions, and there was never really any sense of intimacy from the pit, which I think there should be. Although the chorus does appear, much of the singing is solo or in various ensembles of the principals.

There were various 'gimmicks' which were entertaining. Noticeable was the end of Act 1 when Don Giovanni was escaping the mob angry at his seduction of Zerlina - Simon Keenlyside shimmied up the wall, assisted only by a knotted rope for hand-grip - the wall was nearly as high as the proscenium, so this was no mean feat. 'He's forty-eight!' said a voice behind me. I do like the bit where Donna Anna and Donna Elvira intent on revenge arrive on stage in breeches and with guns slung across their back, looking delightfully boyish and seriously homo-erotic (although I found the previous outing of Anna Netrebko and Ana Maria Martinez to be more exciting). At the start of Act II DG and Leporello swap clothes and Leporello mimes while DG sings, I thought Kyle Ketelsen did a wonderful display of mugging, mimicking stereotypical park-and-bark singers who act via semaphore.

And the penultimate scene, the grand finale, when DG is sucked down into the fires of hell is a tremendous coup de theatre which doesn't pale on repeat.

Singing-wise Kyle Ketelsen was outstanding. Most of the rest were generally good or better. I concluded that Simon Keenlyside is too light a baritone for my liking, I would prefer a more bass-baritone sound. And I found his portrayal surprisingly two-dimensional; I didn't get any insights into the character, which was disappointing. Of the women, Joyce DiDonato was probably the best , but I preferred Ana Maria Martinez last time around. Marina Poplavskaya impressed me in much the same way she had in Don Carlo:a gorgeous voice that seems a bit rough around the edges, and graceful and poised on stage, but not a great stage animal. But there is something about her that says 'star quality' in big lights. I was disappointed with Miah Persson, who, when I have heard her before has sounded gorgeous. Robert Gleadow was excellent as Masetto. He impressed me in several small roles as a Young Artist and I look forward to his future in major roles.  And I really don't know what to make of Robert Murray. I thought his Dalla sua pace was unremittingly awful, wayward of pitch and with really bad coloratura, but his Il mio tesoro was basically very good. And he had the most awful mullet-wig which did him no favours appearance-wise. Erik Halfvarson was more than adequate as Il Commendatore.

So, overall, a decent and basically enjoyable performance, but not one for the ages, and not one to give me any new insights into the work. The second cast takes over now, and while it doesn't lack attractive singers, I have no regrets at giving it a miss. One performance was hard enough work.

I took some indifferent photos at the curtain call which will appear in my Performance album in due course, but there are loads of proper professional ones from the production at Arena Pal

Next event is La Calisto on 1 October.

Beverly Hills Chihuahua

Photos from the premier of latest Disney flick Beverly Hills Chihuahua (I think I'll wait until it comes on TV, probbaly not even Pay Per View TV)

While on vacation in Mexico, Chloe, a ritzy Beverly Hills chihuahua, finds herself lost and in need of assistance in order to get back home.

Lots of photos at WireImage

with granddaughter Nicole

and with a pulchritudinous actress

Getty Images has some pictures from LA Opera's Opening Night . Lots of photos in La-la Land...

 

No reports from Las Vegas...

I have been scouring the internet and have been unable to find any substantive reports from the concert in Las Vegas. Were any readers there? And if not, why not :-)

I have found something that is almost a report, hidden in a gossipy piece in the Las Vegas Review Journal - scroll down past Britney Spears' tour ready or not (zzzzz...) and Andre Agassi doing something for charidee.

Placido Domingo, dining at Strip House before heading for Privé late Monday after his concert at Planet Hollywood Resort

I am a bit of a fast reader (especially when I oughtn't to be reading...) so I originally read it as

to watch hip-hop artist/producer Ryan Leslie* perform

so I was rather relieved when I clicked to the Privé site (turn your sound off; I didn't, and boy was I in trouble) - that is one helluva a clunky site, way too flash.

Anyway, if anyone spots any reports, do let me know, please!

Of course a week ago Sunday he was conducting The Fly in Los Angeles - I can't be bothered to link to the reviews which all hated the opera, although generally praised the performances; the preceding Friday was the opening night of LA's season with Il Trittico. And this past Saturday was the opening night at Washington, with a Traviata directed by Marta. This was beamed live to a stadium - Opening Night at the Opera and photos - oh, look who turned up at half-time...

Plácido Domingo, mexicano de corazón

El tenor, a unos días de presentarse en Chichen Itzá, nos hablo de sus nuevos proyectos, entre los que está trabajar al lado de cineastas como Woody Allen.

But first, he's conducting a couple more of "The Fly" in Los Angeles, interspersed with Operalia in Québec and a concert in Chihuahua...mmm, I like that picture!

Then Mumbai and Costa Rica

* nah, me neither

A portrait of Plácido

Harmonic Convergence

Plácido in Jordan

Reportage Placido Domingo/ Festival of Jordan / Laith Bazari / Al Arabiya News Channel

(Shame about the Arabic over-dubbing)

I shall be scouring the internet for this evening's concert in Las Vegas. The season starts here (I have been so ignoring 'The Fly'...)

Weight size and exercise

Long-term readers of this site will know I don't do exercise. Heck, recent readers of this site will know I don't do exercise. Anyone who has only been reading since 4 August has to realise I don't do exercise.

I am very disdainful of the 'gym culture'. Obviously, I know there are exceptions, there always are, but I feel a large number of people who regularly attend gyms, and 99.9999999999% of people who think they ought to, do so because they've been told. Told by advertisers, and by lazy journalists whose livelihood depends on the advertisers. Some silly twit I used to know (I quite liked him, but he was a silly twit) had the temerity to ask me why I don't go to the gym. I said something like, the time you spend honing your body, I spend stimulating my mind. He said that he finds that going to the gym stimulates the mind. Oh god, I thought, this discussion is going nowhere fast. As he had no experience of exercising his mind, he wouldn't begin to understand me.

All the experts who aren't paid a fortune to sell a product, state that somebody who eats a reasonably balanced diet can keep perfectly fit by walking, housework etc.(Except that a great many people never walk, anywhere). And, indeed, up until about five years ago I was perfectly happy with being a bit plump but able to run for the bus. All that changed with CFS (and then got worse when I got pregnant, briefly).

I don't do diets, because they patently obviously don't work - if they did work, there wouldn't be a new one invented every week. I used to be aware of waistbands - from time to time a tight waistband would signify a need to move about a bit more and eat a little bit less (especially chocolate, cakes and alcohol). I don't weigh myself - if one's weight is falling, the worst thing one can do is get obsessed by fractions of kilos. If it's ballooning it's depressing to have stark confirmation of what you already know. If it's staying stable, your waistbands tell you that.

Years ago I was told at a hospital that my ideal weight was x kilogrammes. At the time I weighed x+10. It was relatively easy to get down to x+5. Then other stuff got in the way. I then thought, hey, I was x+10 despite exercising three times a week. I got to x+5 by giving up exercise. You can see why I don't do exercise!

However, I went to the doctor a few months ago and was weighed - it was a condition they set before I could get a repeat prescription of my Tramadol, and I can't live without my Tramadol 'It's strong' say various medical professionals. Erm, yes, but not actually strong enough. At that point I weighed x+25.

Having been doing the exercise thing for six weeks, and all but cut alcohol out of my diet, I now weigh x+25. I know that because I read that you should weigh yourself before and after exercise. For every pound you lose you should drink a pint of water. After I had been out on the bike for an hour - not very streneous (except for climbing up the hill to the top of Brockwell Park...) - but in the surprising heat of the afternoon, I weighed myself again and discovered that I had put on a kilogramme, quite surprising considering that I had drunk about a quarter a litre of water (not enough...).

So I suppose it would be good to get rid of some of the +25. But slowly. Over maybe a year. Maybe two years. And not by using the bathroom scales. We shall see.

Travels with my bike

All this time I have been going on to Jimmy about how we ought to get bikes, and all this time he has been hesitant. He did suggest rather than buying, we ought to try hiring. But I wasn't keen. I reckoned it was as much hassle - more, maybe - to hire one for a day than to buy. When I finally plunged, he didn't plunge with me. Although he followed suit swiftly.

Now, I reckoned getting a bike, it would be nice to go out maybe once a week. Do I have such a luxury? Oh no! On Friday we were out for three hours. Only down on Tooting Common. And not riding constantly - we stopped for coffee, we stopped to have a domestic on the mean streets of Furzedown, we stopped to watch the swans, ducks and dogs in the pond, and we stopped again for lentil soup. I was doing just fine until we got off the common and my legs stopped working.

There are many advantages in where I live, right at the top of Brixton Hill. Mainly the fact that it's the top of the hill, which is handy in times of flood. It does however mean that the 'home straight' is uphill all the way. Oh yes, it's fun to freewheel all the way down to the Common. Not so much fun to do the opposite of freewheel back. The opposite of 'freewheel' is, of course, 'get off and walk'.

But it was civilised on the Common on Friday. Mainly dog-walkers, a few people with small children, an older woman in a mobility scooter. Pleasant, talking to people, with people, nothing substantial. Different on Saturday. Admittedly it was a gorgoeus afternoon, perhaps the best Saturday of the summer - clear sunny and not too hot. No great surprise that it was a lot busier. Always interesting to people-watch. I know one shouldn't jump to conclusions, but it did seem as though the Nappy Valley Yummy Mummies and their smug husbands were out in force. Maybe I'm being stupid. There are paths with a white line down the middle, one side painted with pictures of bikes and one with pictures of walking people. If I spy a group of eight adults and three buggies parked on the cycle path,  two toddlers on trikes and an older child on a bike weaving his way back and forth across the entire path, if I slow down to barely moving, I don't see why I should be glared at.

Still it's better than car drivers. Obviously, the majority of people who drive on side-streets are careful and considerate. I oughtn't to be surprised but it never ceases to amaze me how many stupid people there are behind wheels. The other evening, we waited to cross Atlantic Road, an important-but-minor thoroughfare that meets Brixton Road in the town centre. There is no pedestrian crossing, but it's usually easy to cross. The light was red for the side road, green for the main road. We crossed. I just reached the pavement when I realised a car had overtaken the three cars waiting at the red light and was accelerating towards the main road. Straight out, in front of a bus, wanting to do a right, only to come to a halt because of the traffic coming from his left. So he stopped. The bus driver sounded his horn. Eventually the car reversed out of the yellow box and back to be in front of cars waiting to emerge from Atlantic Road. As he was clearly unconcerned about his own safety, I doubt he had the slightest awareness of other road-users.

The next morning I walked through Smith Square and spotted four police horses. It's not unusual to see two, on patrol or going to and from the stables. But four is unusual. They are gorgoeus animals. Big. Docile and well-trained, but, still, big. And horses. As they walked away to my left, a car approached in the opposite direction,and obviously deliberately revved their engine exactly as it passed the horses. AsI say, they're docile and well-trained, but even so, they're big. Who in their right mind would deliberately provoke a horse, police or no? As I say, I ought not to be surprised, but there is no limit to the stupidity of people, especially when they get inside their invincible driving machines

Last Night of the Proms

I didn't go to any Proms this year. I watched very few on TV and listened to even fewer on the radio. Sometimes it's nice to have a break, have the summer 'off', watch the Olympics and other stuff.

And last night was the culmination of the Proms season, the final one of 78 concerts that offered a varied fare. I looked at the season and thought that although there were few 'must sees' (well, about one, actually, and the date didn't suit) there were plenty of attractive ones.

I was really pleased to watch the Last Night last night, especially the first half. Indeed, the first half made me wish I had been there. Totally splendid throughout. (Yes, of course, I could offer up criticism but that would be carping about details when sometimes it's the big picture that matters). I can't decide which piece I preferred, Puccini's Te Deum from Tosca or the Beethoven Choral Fantasia. The Te Deum is a marvellous goose-pimple piece even when performed half-heartedly; there was nothing half-hearted about that. A large orchestra and a massed choir meant that it was going to be good. Add in an amazing Scarpia scowling his way through with his wonderful voice...Bryn Terfel is fabulous. I know I criticise him in respect of his half-heartedness; that half-heartedness does not extend to when he's on stage. Three very different arias from Wagner, Puccini and Verdi (in the fat suit...!) brought the house down.

Top that!

And, quite possibly, it was topped, but only just, only arguably. I so adore the Choral Fantasia, quite possibly one of my favourite pieces. I have never heard it performed live; I realised that I had never even seen it performed on the TV. The commentators were saying that it is rarely performed because of the challenge in assembling a top pianist, an ensemble of soloists and a large choir. I don't really know what separates a really good pianist from a pretty good one, but I really liked Helene Grimaud's performance.

And then there was the second half, which was waht it was, for better or worse...

Pop stars - where are they now

Sometimes, when I see nobody-wannabes getting feted by the tabloid - and not so tabloid - press, I wonder where they will be in two years time.

I imagine, if you're young, and get paid a massive amount for doing nothing, it is natural to believe you're set up for life, either because the sums - actually barely enough to buy a house - seem like a fortune or because they assume that being a Model-Actor-Whatever is a guarantee of a long and rewarding career.

There are stories of Bros, at their peak, partying and larging it up in the lap of luxury, little knowing that they were being charged for their extravagant lifestyle which they naively believed was subbed by the record company. It is said that David van Day from Dollar has a hot-dog stand on the road to Brighton. I was briefly acquainted with a guy who joined a chart-topping band after they had topped the chart. He lives mainly on benefit, interspersed with an occasional nostalgia tour, and he seems incapable of having a conversation that does not refer to the past glories of his erstwhile colleagues.

In reality, I know that many pop stars whose pop careers don't endure, rejoin the human race and do the range of jobs that normal people do, often using the proceeds of their short-lived fame to set up a business.  I have known for some time that Kim Wilde does landscape gardening, and Richard Coles from the Communards is a vicar. This week I I learnt that D:Ream's keyboard player Brian Cox is now an experimental physicist, and that Bruce Dickinson of Iron Maiden is a pilot (and also an international fencer). I'm sure there must be many more out there.

Bryn Terfel to retire in 2011

BBC NEWS | Entertainment | Terfel sets retirement deadline.

Bryn Terfel: why I nearly fled the Last Night: As Bryn Terfel prepares for the climax of this year's Proms, he tells Jasper Rees about nerves, cancellations - and his plans to retire in three years

Actually, if you read the interview, he doesn't actually say so quite so definitely. And it is inconsistent with the interview published three weeks ago which says he will finally appear in the reprise of the Royal Opera’s Ring in 2012.

To which I say: whatever. Retire, don't retire.  Make your mind up.

And apparently he's going to be on BBC Breakfast at about 8.45 am today, like in less than half an hour. I won't be watching

When two worlds collide

I know nothing about Physics. I don't even have a category on this blog for 'science'. I don't really know anything about Biology, Chemistry  or Engineering, but I can observe everyday aspects of them and extrapolate to more complex things - I can observe differences between liquid, gas and solid, for example, and although I am hazy about genetics I can see familial similarities between related people.

I definitely know almost nothing about Physics and certainly nothing about particle physics. I have actually been to CERN, although only onto the Campus, not into the tunnel. I have no way of conceptualising a proton, and can't begin to get my head round the Higgs Bosun or the idea of anti-matter. (But I can bullshit on any subject in the world if given half a chance). I think the Large Hadron Collider thing is massive, fascinating and totally impenetrable to my anti-physics mind (is that a bit like anti-matter?)

My degree was in Social Science and my professional career bears more than a passing resemblance to Social Science. Thatch declared the difference between Science and Social Science was that Social Scientists go looking for evidence to support a hypothesis whereas Scientists observe and use the results to form a conclusion. That is way too simplistic, both disciplines do a mixture of both, depending on the context.

One of the things that I have observed in respect of LHC is the number of people in all sincerity asking 'What's it for?' My partner wants to know whether it will mean cheaper cleaner fuel. A well-known cancer expert was on the TV asking much the same question.  Applied research is easy to grasp - if we research this, we'll cure cancer, or stop kids in gangs knifing each other, or shift more of our widgets on the retail market. It's more difficult to justify pure research, the pursuit of knowledge, the hunger for expanding the horizon. When people asked my Grandad where he was going he would reply "There and back to see how far it is", which is nonsensical.

Or is it? I think it's exciting that people want to go there to see what happens. Perhaps in time, something of commercial or practical value will emerge, and later generations will celebrate this day as the day we started to collide the hardrons, in much the same way we celebrate the invention of the wheel. But the practical and commercial benefits are not the point, and maybe that is a concept that is even harder to grasp than anti-matter and sub-atomic particles being accelerated by a series of electro-magnets.

Obligatory link from the BBC: 'Big Bang' experiment starts well

And the lead story in today's Mirror: Victoria Beckham shows off Peter Pan pixie cut.

Jimmy has vowed never ever to buy the Mirror again.

Picture of me probably within the circumference of the tunnel

 

Whereabouts...

I'm hardly doing anything in September, just Don Giovanni on the 18th.

I'm wondering when tickets go on sale for the 26 October screening of Tamerlano, and also wandering where to see it...

Tales from the cycle trail

So, by mid-morning Saturday we had two bikes in the shed, gleaming new and raring to go. But Jimmy  wasn't feeling too good (and felt worse Sunday) plus the weather forecast was heavy rain. The actual weather on Sunday was something or other wet in the morning, dull, overcast and dry in the afternoon. But never mind. Today's another day.

Remember that it is cough years since either of us has properly been on a bike, and we are generally out of condition. Absolutely no point taking unnecessary risks. Besides, even cough years ago, I found no pleasure in cycling down busy A roads with dirty lorries and fast cars whizzing by, some in quite an intimidatory manner. So, in order just to re-familiarise myself with riding, and specifically to familiarise myself with this bike, I suggested we went to Tooting Common.

Tooting Common is very near where I live, really just at the end of my road. It's also very close to where I used to live. So that's 17+ years of living very close to Tooting Common. Whether from Tooting Bec Road or from Emmanuel Road I have always considered Tooting Common to be very boring, just expanses of grass, regularly mown, and neat paths, ideal for walking dogs and small children, but essentially boring (except for the Lido). But being flat and boring, I thought, ideal for trying out bicycles.

Of course the first thing you encounter are pathways designated 'no cycling'. I interpret that as 'use your judgement'. I imagine that on a hot Saturday afternoon, these are teeming with pedestrians, and as a pedestrian of many years' standing, aggressive cyclists are a nuisance. On a dull overhung Monday morning, they are practically deserted, a few dog walkers,  some parents (or nannies) with toddler and the odd jogger. As we got deeper onto the common, these became fewer. When we encountered pedestrians we rode at walking pace and gave them a wide berth, or we paused to let them cross first.  In any case it was more fun to leave the tarmac path and explore the mud or pebbled trails. Round the pond, just about deserted, through the trees, under railway bridges. We were both astonished. We had no idea that Tooting Common was so rural.

Obviously, it's not really rural, not in a technical sense. But when you are surrounded by nature, shielded from traffic, it's as good as, in many ways. I know people yearn to live 'in the country' for peace and quiet, but I never have - too much hassle, too much inconvenience, too far from anywhere, too great a need to conform. I much prefer visiting the countryside occasionally and enjoying the green spaces on my doorstep.

So it's a little crazy that I have never previously explored the countryside at the end of my road, two minutes from home!

There's a good Flickr Stream, which includes some excellent photos

Bike trials

Ten days ago, as you may recall me writing, I ordered and paid for a new bike. Having the maturity of a small child on Christmas Eve, I wanted it there and then. But the man in the shop explained that they had to build it and check it for road-worthiness, because if I took away a bike that wasn't roadworthy, and ended up under a bus, the shop will be liable.

They had a sign up that said 'Our promise. If you order before 12 noon we will build your bike for the same day. If you order after 12 noon, we will build it for the next day.' As this was early Friday afternoon, I could have possibly expected a Saturday build, definitely Monday. But no, they said Tuesday at the earliest. Tuesday wasn't convenient so we agreed Thursday.

On Monday we returned to the shop and ordered and paid for a bike for Jimmy. Basically the same model, although obviously mine is female geometry and without the crossbar to enable me to ride side-saddle. We agreed Thursday also for his.

Thursday evening we go there, to be told that my bike is ready but his isn't; it hasn't been built, it wasn't on the list. After some deliberating we decide to take mine and he said he'd collect his Saturday (we were at a funeral Friday).

He suggested that I ride it round the car-park, but I declined, seeing as though the car park was being used for boy-racers thirty-something women, with children in the back,  doing handbrake turns. "It's like Brands Hatch!" I exclaimed.

Being that I am middle-aged and increasingly nervous cautious, and I haven't actually properly been on a bike in cough years, I thought - should I ride on the A204, a busy bus-and-commuter route in the rush hour,  or should I wheel it to the park conveniently situated just round the corner. Immediately inside the park gates I mounted, eased down on the right pedal and fell off.

Yeah, yeah, I can see you all laughing now.

What I did was remount immediately, and then go "Er? How come my handle bars are all wonky?"

Simple answer, they were loose in the mount, so the smallest amount of pressure meant they just swivelled round to 90 degrees. I wheeled it back to the shop, spoke to the sales assistant who summoned the manager. The manager was all apologetic and said this shouldn't have happened. It's part of procedures when issuing a bike to tighten the handlebars because they are stored hanging up with the handlebars in line with the body of the bike. I suggested that part of the procedures should be training staff to follow procedures. The manager said the sales assistant had been there three months and it was unlikely that it was the first bike he had issued*.

I also raised the issue of Jimmy's bike not being ready as booked, despite the 'promise' on the yellow notice. The manager ran a print and realised that it was actually scheduled for collection on 30 December 1899. Yes, really... I suggested that there should be some recognition of the late delivery and the manager said he'd see what he could do. Jimmy collected his bike on Saturday (no 'recognition' offered) and it was only when he got it home that we realised that my mudguards, paid for and annotated on the order, hadn't been fitted. Sigh

Naturally, an email, stating all the facts, has been sent to Head Office Customer Service. Auto reply promised a substantive reply in 7 days.

* You might say I should have checked: my going round to the park was my way of checking. That does not in any way resolve them of the duty of care, stated at the point of purchase, to ensure a bike leaving the premises is road-worthy.

Crap telly

Occasionally one can pinpoint a whole hour of your life you just won't get back.

I watched some rubbish on TV last night, some bloke travelling from Ireland to Australia. I am not quite sure what the premise other than to rack up various different means of transport. And making contrived whooping noises just to 'prove' he was like a boy that had never grown up. Total lamer.

Three things stood out.

1. How he put on a serious face to discuss Tibet, which couldn't disguise that he knew nothing and cared less
2. Approaching Liverpool he spots a building and says "Oh that's that's..." and turns to a mate who  says "It's the Liver building..."
3. He announces he's travelling in a Daimler that Queen Anne used to travel in. Of course she did, dear, of course she did.

Totally conceited programme. Supposedly, it's three blokes wending their intrepid way round the world using only their own ingenuity. Like, they crossed the Channel on a Laser dinghy (that's the sort Ben Ainslie won Gold with). All alone. And the camera panned away to show them, all alone. I thought it was dead clever the way they managed to get the camera so far away from the boat that it was almost like they had a support vessel.

Keystone Cops

When you see a police raid on the telly, fictional or documentary, it's action-filled. You can smell the testosterone, adrenalin and machismo oozing from the screen (and that's just the women). Lots of shouting, 'Go go go, you cover the back', barging down doors, and asserting their presence.

I have just watched the crappest police raid ever. A block of flats somewhere in the City of Westminster. Six police officers standing outside; parked opposite, two police vans - one to transport the police, one looking like prisoner transport.

It's a modern block of flats, with controlled entrance. Six police officers standing outside. 'Obviously not a social call,' I remark to a fellow onlooker passer-by. I toy with the idea of suggeesting they try the Tradesmen's button, but remind myself 'Don't interfere'.

Two officers wandered somewhat aimlessly round the side and peered forlornly upwards. Another said 'Tescos' and shrugged (there is indeed a branch of the Satanic Emporium in that block). A few more tries of the various buttons on the intercom and they trooped dejectedly back to their van.

Super, I thought, when being subject to a mid-morning raid by the Boys in Blue, just ignore them, they'll go away.

At this point, a chap strolled up to the door, entered his code, and the front door opened. I pondered whether I should call-out 'Coo-ee! Coppers. You can tail-gate that chap.' I decided not. One of them noticed and huffing and puffing he trotted across the road, looking like an out-of-condition middle-aged bloke running for a bus. And they gained admission.

I did consider hanging around to watch them drag out the culprit, but decided against it. You never know with these things. They can get nasty. Maybe some Drug OverLord or Master Terrorist, shots being fired and so on. Mind you I saw no signs of Tactical Support Group, so I guess it was probably just a petty crim.

Transfer window +1

Well, United get Berbatov, for a lot more than he's worth (IMHO). Berbatov gets to play in Europe...like he was ever going to sign for Manchester City, considering his stated reason for leaving Spurs was the absence of Champions League football.

Instead, Manchester City get Robinho. What's all that about?

Real Madrid president Ramon Calderon said Robinho, who called a news conference on Sunday stating again his desire to leave the Bernabeu club, had broken down in tears as he pleaded for a move.

"We have sold Robinho for reasons of a human nature and for sporting reasons," Calderon told Spanish television station Veo."The fact that he has accepted an offer from Manchester City says that he is not going for sporting reasons.It's an important sum of money. It's not the objective of Real Madrid to sell players, neither do we need the money, but for reasons of human and sporting nature, it has been decided this is for the best.It's a decision agreed by all the coaching staff, who understand it is best for the player and for the club.

(Coach Bernd) Schuster thought until yesterday that he could recover the player, but that has not been the case. Every time I have spoken with him he was very sad, crying and asking to leave Spain. Real Madrid are more important than any one player"

I love that bit 'not going for sporting reasons'. I have a lot of affection and respect for Mark Hughes, but, pur-lease, this guy could have joined any team in Europe. Chelsea were supposed to be signing him, then went quiet,  'not prepared to pay the asking price' - MoneyBags Chelsea? Would it be that Brazilian Big Phil Scolari knows something that Welshman Sparky doesn't? Tangentially,  I doubt Sparky will be in the job for long - surely the Abu Dhabians will want to put their own man in place?

In my uninformed and barely evidenced opinion, Manchester City have paid a small fortune for someone really quite flaky. We shall see...

Monday Leisure

I didn't get told off in the swimming pool today, despite the fact that I got an even bigger float, shaped like a duck, and lay back to rest. That was because I did it while the Lifeguard-who-examines-her-nails  was on duty. Another woman got told off, though, by Jobsworth-Lifeguard-with-A-Whistle, and was told 'floats only in the small pool'. Okay, maybe it's a rule, but it's a stupid rule, and it's not advertised. There's a fast lane, a middle lane, a slow lane and an area clearly for 'messing about'. There were two people in the slow lane, so need for anyone to do lengths in the 'messing about' area.

Jobsworth cleared up all the toys from alongside the big pool, even the armbands that look like dumbbells that someone had been using for a bit of an non-ostentatious aqua-workout. A bunch of six pre- or barely-teens got told off for using floats in the big pool. Then for playing volleyball over the fence between the small and big pools. Then when they gathered at the deep end and took turns to jump in...just copying me - I'd warned them I make a big splash and they seemed determined to outsplash me (never succeeded...!)...he got really agitated. I got a distinct sense that the six kids, the two women in their 20s/30s, and me all got an attitude that we were going to be the naughty kids defying teacher. We didn't have a problem with the kids, no it seemed did the two women. All the small kids and parents were in the Teaching Pool. If I had found the kids annoying, I could have stayed down the shallow end or gone in the slow lane.

Afterwards, in the showers, two women were saying how much nicer they are than the showers at Clapham. Agreed. Not least the fact that each shower is in a cubicle, also that you don't look strange if you get your kit off to shower (Clapham is like Sale, too genteel, shower with one's costume on). They were however lamenting that Clapham is closing down  - it's a shame they have to do it all at once, can't they stagger it. So I said - they're knocking it down, and one of them said, no they have to keep the shell because it's listed. Oh right, okay, I said, and thought 'but even if you keep the shell you can't partially gut the inside, or maybe you can, but you end up making compromises in the re-modelling'.

But the internet says it will be knocked down. I think I like the idea of glass frontage. Although a Muslim friend pointed out to me several years ago that Peckham Splash is glass-fronted, which makes it unsuitable for Moslem women, although they do steam the glass up for Women Only sessions, but sometimes they forget. I did read somewhere that there is still one pool to be identified for 2012 training. Maybe that will be Clapham. Perhpas we can arrange for the Australian and US teams to train there, and host them in tents on Clapham Common, like the passengers from the Windrush.

After swimming we went to Halfords, where Jimmy ordered a bike. Basically, we are due to collect his 'n' hers matching bikes. How romantic...

We then went to Currys to buy a coffee machine. We saw one we liked, but it was the end of the line. They were prepared to knock £30 off, but it was incomplete - would have been a deal if we were replacing like with like. I decided instead to source it on the internet. Until I checked out the internet and discovered that the desired model wasn't so desirable after all. It uses coffee pods - which is just stupid. Further examination of the internet revealed this to be quite common. Of all the stupid ideas. Talk about limiting your choice...Jimmy says it's just an excuse to over-charge you for crap coffee. I don't suppose there'smuch in the way of Organic and/or FairTrade coffee pods. So, time to think again.

Observations

I got told off in the swimming pool yesterday. I had had this bright idea. Having found a really large float, practically the size of one of those small surfboards - bodyboard? - I decided to lie down and rest my head on it.

The Lifeguard told me 'no floats past this point'. I was miffed. I also considered it double standards because I had previously done two lengths with a (smaller) float - to concentrate on my legs.

Then, I thought, actually, despite the rule being daft and unpublicised, she was actually applying common sense and discretion. Someone using a float to do lengths is a swimmer, someone using one to rest their head is 'playing'.

Is it any surprise that people in 'authority' don't use discretion and common sense, when they then get accused of inconsistency. Not that I accused. I complied, but I had silent thoughts.

There are ongoing roadworks in Brixton Town Centre, largely to do with widening the pavements, which is a good thing. The process isn't so great, even though the end result is looking good. For a period of time, it meant that it took a long time for buses to filter through, so it made sense to get off a stop early and walk.

I was amazed at how many people I saw. Not randoms, but people I 'know' - maybe people who in the past we spent time together. People to say hello to, maybe how are you. Not close friends.  People who, if you got the bus with, there'd be mutual awkwardness...I don't know this person well enough to spend an entire journey in conversation.

The other day, we walked from the town centre to Halfords. Not a great distance, but far enough to observe several instances of people on foot and bike greeting slight acquaintances and old friends.

It's a small and trivial thing, but it's about being part of a community, of society. Those who move about only in a carapace miss out on that. Their loss; the community loses, too.

SatNav is rubbish/SatNav is brilliant. For a few weeks there were roadworks by my house. These involved an enormous dirty big trench being dug across the road, closing the junction due to the sheer innavagability of it. The roadworkers helpfully put up big signs saying

• Road closed except for access
• Turn here to get to t'main road cos t'junction's closed
• You don't want to go this way you don't
• Here be dragons

SatNav, in all its wisdom, showed the junction as clear, traffic-free etc. So the fuckwits drove towards the trench, scratched their heads at the cones, fences and barriers, sat there for a minute or two, and turned their cars round.

Now, I know all the arguments about SatNav being great because it manages to get you from A to blah-de-boring-blah blah blah without having to read a map because that's, oh, so difficult.

I think there should be a new law that says anybody who follows the instructions of SatNav regardless of roadside signs and obvious hazards is clearly way too stupid to be allowed out alone and thus must be banned from driving and made to re-sit their test.

Not so long ago I witnessed another example of a long articulated lorry (Seville and Amsterdam) attempting a turn that would be total nonsense (for those that know Clapham - Parsons Corner into Park Hill). Yes, I know it's a cut-through, it avoids the main roads. But you know, there's a reason they're called 'main roads'.

It's actually really difficult to get a small saloon along the residential double-parked side streets let alone a lorry full of oranges and tulips. At what point does a full-time driver wake up and think - this SatNav keeps sending me down narrow twisty country lanes and chichi urban drives chocka with Chelsea Tractors; maybe I should use a road map? What is the point of a navigation system that doesn't allow the user to enter constraints such as 'big lorry'?