Summer skin

Went to see Death Cab for Cutie at the Brixton Academy.
What are they like? asks Rachael.
Like the kind of music you hear on the OC. And once inside, it's apparent we've stepped onto the set of the OC. Fresh-faced, clean-looking, dewy-skinned little teenies.

They seem even younger, if possible, than Bloc Party's following. We're clearly getting too old for gigs.

"I can see someone older than us!" says Rachael with excitement. "Oh, wait - no, he's here to accompany his 12 year old son." "Next time we come, we'll be queuing up in a line of foetuses" she says bitterly. They're the politest bunch you've ever seen, clapping sedately after every song and hardly rocking out at all, but they hardly could to this band's music. They hold up their camera-phones and take photos like people once used to hold up lighters at gigs. Are teens less rebellious, more conformist these days? Is it just this lot?

On the way home the Central Line is suspended due to a "person under a train". (Anyone else remember the days when they'd protect our delicate sensibilities with some other story, like signal failure?) You know you're a real Londoner when your first thought is not "poor thing" or even "poor tube driver" but "Inconsiderate bastard. Just added an hour to my journey."

Summer Skin mp3

Death Cab for Cutie
Gigs
Feeling Old

Brick Lane

An homage to Diamond Geezer, if you will.

We used to come to Brick Lane years ago. Our friend's dad was a famous architect and long before it was a fashionable area, he had a big old Georgian house there. The parents never seemed to be home and we used to rampage around the place all night, making the occasional early hours trip to the 24 hour Brick Lane bagel bakery. The house had this magic bookcase, which swung open & let you through into... a whole other house next door! We loved it and spent time exploring this whole other house until we realised that actually, someone was renting it out and maybe wouldn't be happy to see us rifling through the place.

Happy times. In those days Brick Lane was home to a lot of Indian (Bangladeshi) restaurants, the Modern Saree Centre, the Whitechapel Art Gallery around the corner, but not a whole lot else. Artists were just beginning to use it for cheap studio space (Gilbert and George had always been there) but these days it's changed out of all recognition. The artists are taking over, and the City - it is being G.E.N.T.R.I.F.I.E.D and this is not always a good thing.

The beautiful Whitechapel Library, where refugees and poor folk could get themselves an education, has criminally been closed down to make way for the big glass Ideas Factory on Whitechapel High Street (lots of computers, not many books.) Shoreditch tube has closed. Worst of all, the synagogue on Princelet Street (where my dad used to go as a boy) now known as the Museum of Immigration for the generations of immigrant communities it has provided for, from the Huguenots onwards, is being threatened with closure because of the proposed Crossrail link. (I'd recommend the incredible book Rodinsky's Room by Rachel Lichtenstein and Iain Sinclair, which shows why this would be such a crime). Now I know that change is what makes this city great, but we're talking about a wholesale destruction of this area's history.


And it's the artists and the entrepreneurs that I take issue with - Spitalfields was an amazing atmospheric old market until the developers got their hands on it and made it into a big bland shopping mall complete with chain restaurants. When I first moved here the area was an interesting mixture, with cool bars opening up and trendy fashion types starting to move in - but it still had a gritty, multicultural feel.

Now the balance has swung too far the other way - every time I go down there there's a new highly expensive boutique or art gallery opened up, opened by some fool with more money than taste - they surely must be pricing the locals out of their businesses. (Infuriatingly, they seem to be in it for a hobby, it appears to be beneath them to actually earning a living - would like to name and shame the arty bookshop/coffeeshop on the corner of Cheshire Street, where they seem surprised and almost insulted if you try to a) buy a book or b) buy a coffee.)

They are fairly culturally insensitive too - bearing in mind that it's a mainly Muslim area, & most of the local women you see wear shalwar kameez down to their ankles and cover their hair, a slow handclap for the idiots who display "art" books featuring ladies with their baps out in their shop windows.

Down with this kind of thing.













Brick Lane Spitalfields Gentrification

Diet coke experiment

Dear lord, I have to try this magic science experiment with the kids at school. (via Gordon)

When Harry Met Sally

(It's on telly tonight, in case you wondered.)

I always hated When Harry Met Sally, partly because Billy Crystal is so irritating (really Meg Ryan, you could do better) and mostly because of the 'men and women can't be friends' speech.*

But in my old age I'm beginning to think that Nora Ephron knew whereof she spoke, and that maybe there's a grain of truth in this. Because most of my male friends have vanished over the years (in fact the only ones I have now are going out with my female friends, and we wouldn't really phone each other up and hang out. That would be odd.)

This could be because in fact I'm evil, evil, and they don't want to be friends anymore... Hmm, never thought of that before. Or maybe because they eventually all got girlfriends who are twitchy about them seeing some unattached female. Or because men are just rubbish at maintaining friendships (always so pleased to hear from you, but will never pick up the phone). (Gay men are the same too, I've had gay colleagues I've been close to but when we no longer worked together, did they write, did they call?) I don't know. I miss them. I love my chicas, but it is a question of balance, it's yin and yang, isn't it?

What do you think? Do you have friends of the opposite sex? Do they have a hidden agenda? Am I talking out of my hat (as usual)?

* Harry: You realise of course that we can never be friends.

Sally: Why not?

Harry: What I'm saying is... and this is not a come-on in any way, shape or
form, is that men and women can't be friends because the sex part always gets in the way.

Sally: That's not true, I have a number of men friends and there's no sex
involved.

Harry: No you don't.

Sally: Yes I do.

Harry: No you don't.

Sally: Yes I do.

Harry: You only think you do.

Sally: You're saying I'm having sex with these men without my knowledge?

Harry: No, what I'm saying is they all want to have sex with you.

Sally: They do not.

Harry: Do too.

Sally: They do not.

Harry: Do too.

Sally: How do you know?

Harry: Because no man can be friends with a woman he finds attractive, he
always wants to have sex with her.

Sally: So you're saying that a man can be friends with a woman he finds
unattractive.

Harry: No, you pretty much wanna nail 'em too.

Sally: What if they don't want to have sex with you?

Harry: Doesn't matter, because the sex thing is already out there so the
friendship is ultimately doomed and that is the end of the story.

Age-inappropriate

This rhyming cloze sheet was written by my esteemed colleague. Can you spot where the problems might arise? (If so, you too could enjoy a rewarding career as a primary school teacher...)

Matter of life and death

Two very moving posts I happened to read today, one from Guyana Gyal, the other from Rad, from both ends of the spectrum. Reminds me why I like this internet thing so much.

All is right with the world

It doesn't get any better than the past two days.

Yesterday I met the witty and well-travelled Tim from Cultural Snow, the lovely Patroclus, the blindingly handsome Wyndham the Triffid and the glamorous Pashmina - it is strange walking into a bar to meet people when you don't know what they look like or (in most cases) what their real names are, but I had a great time meeting the lovely blog folk.

Drink was taken and this morning I had to catch a very crowded Silverlink to Caledonian Road in closer proximity to my fellow man than I usually enjoy, especially when hungover. I was sandwiched, no, cushioned between two ladies with very big bosoms - it was pretty much wasted on me and I was thinking of asking the man next to me if he wanted to swap places. The woman in front of me couldn't help it but when I looked at the woman behind me, I realised she had about five inches of space behind her - she was in fact a frotteur! A lady frotteur! I've never heard the like.

I've had such a beautiful day though, having been sent on a sculpture course at the Visual Learning Foundation, spending the day on their roof-top in the sunshine sketching the skyline from Canary Wharf to Kings Cross, drawing, painting & modelling with modroc, (that stuff they used to set broken bones in). Beats school any day.

Then I met Bad Sar in town for football with free margaritas courtesy of her work, to watch the tall skinny one and the, er, not-so-tall one score. My cup runneth over.

Shoot London

Anyone want to Shoot London Lite with me? If you do, contact me pronto as tickets sell out v quickly.

Methuselah

Greavsie's having a mid-life crisis, as is Billy (my birthday's coming up soon and I'm thinking of having one too, they're all the rage you know) but it reminded me of the following conversation overheard on the bus:

Girl 1: Yes, I really like him, but he's being all flaky, he's talking about going off to Thailand and travelling.
Girl 2: How old is he?
Girl 1: He's 40.
Girl 2: Oh, he's not even having a mid-life crisis, it's just a quarter-life crisis...
Girl 1: Right...

Now, I was always very poor at maths, but just how old is this man planning to be?

Sweepstake

They came round demanding money for a sweepstake at work today, I understand there's some kind of football tournament going on. I got Brazil. Are they any good?

(Just kidding. Actually I got Ukraine. Are they any good?)

Email

Scroll down for update from US:

Why do we bother with email anymore? Here is a random sampling:

Increasingly desperate offers from Ocado, promising free chocolates, then free bottle of wine, then my very own pony (okay, I made that one up) if only I will return to them.

New people listed on Friends Reunited! (Yes, but they left my school in 1954, do I really care? Friends Reunited has surely had its day now.)

Holidays I would love to go on at prices I cannot afford from a variety of travel agents.

Terrible jokes from my sister which are not printable in a family blog such as this.

Spam, lots of it - "Sexy baby and bad erection?" Where do they learn English, in a Philippino brothel?

I did like this one sent by G though - here is the link if you'd like to make your own.

What's in your Inbox? Anything interesting? Do share.





US kindly sends me his email offer on World Cup tickets:

Annie, I can get hold of 3 tickets for World Cup Final in July -£200 each, or £600 if you buy all 3. Seating position shown attached. Let me know ASAP if you want them.

Fuerzabruta

Here we see a moment from De La Guarda's amazing new show, Fuerzabruta, at the Roundhouse.

What can only be described as people swimming on the ceiling. Taken before I got told off by security guards. Go see the crazy Argentinians throwing themselves around on ropes, they are highly recommended.

London on less than a fiver

What to do when you have 6 hours to kill in Central London. And not much money.

Meet Bad Sarah for lunch and catch up on gossip. (We favour the Pret a Manger opposite the National Portrait Gallery for people-watching potential. We saw Barry Gibb out of the BeeGees. At least it looked like him. You could tell by the way he used his walk. )

Go to the Photographer's Gallery - a fine institution which will also feature in my "Toilets of London" guide when I get around to writing it (it is free, and very central but don't tell anyone.)

Get a free shot of flavoured espresso (or two) outside Starbucks.

Read the papers and magazines back-to-back in Borders.

Go to Maison Bertaux (Greek Street, Soho) for a cup of tea, taking advantage of the fact that it's the first time in 15 years you've passed it and there are seats available inside.

Go to Liberty's and admire the shoe department. Go to Selfridges and admire the lingerie department.

Consider getting a makeover whilst in Selfridges. Decide against it because you've always been terrified of the make-up ladies. Even now when you are older than them.

Pass up on the chance to see The Devil and Daniel Johnston for a bargainous £1.50 at the Prince Charles cinema because it's the first time the sun has been out in days and you don't want to sit in the dark.

Shiver in Soho Square for at least 10 minutes. No, it's really not that warm yet.