my Thursday travel backpack still needs to be emptied

I sometimes post a bus or taxi picture when I remember that I'd originally intended to have a sort of London theme linked somewhere within this blog. My recent travelling, both for holiday to Normandy and also to the Temporary Apartment for what is now approaching three months means that the London theming has slightly declined.

Thats not to say I haven't also been around town. A meeting with my Boston friend was in London, a theatrical visit to the Barbican, a South Bank meal at Riviera, business meetings in the City and sundry trips to Portobello Road and the Electric are interspersed with my travel.

But its all gone a bit piecemeal on my understanding the recent UK news events. I'm told that the planes are so full on Sundays now because its the people heading home from their shopping expeditions to cut price London. My friends at the barbecue the other evening were telling me that local (foreign) TV advertisements were selling 'Bargain Britain'.

Whenever I see a picture of Gordon Brown, he either looks morose or has what looks like a photoshopped grin. I know he is supposed to be figuring out how to pilot us out of his recession, but it looks as if there's a fire on every engine at the moment. Choose from corrupt bandwidth-stealing politician expense declarations, car scrappage allowances for those who mainly drive quite old second hand cars so that they can take big loans to buy new ones or a whole series of other questionable situations.

The current government has been in a little longer than the age of the cars which get these refunds, but instead of we voters getting a rebate it looks like a further ten years is needed to get back to a neutral position. Even the Government's petition site seems to suggest that the next thing the Prime Minister should do is resign, with some 34,000 signatories last count.

He won't of course.

And the people taking snaps of one another in Heathrow wearing those blue face masks last weekend. It was around Wednesday when I caught up on that piece of news. A taxi driver asked me where I was from.

"UK", I explained, "Ah, Swineflu", he replied, as I initially tried to work out if it was some kind of local insult. I finally realized it was about H1N1 (swine), not to be confused with H5N1(avian) flu all of which is clear at the aptly named Pandemicflu.gov website. Now I knew why they'd been wearing the facemasks.

So I'll be taking it easy this weekend- my overseas counterparts have been taking Labour Day in its various guises - which created a few unexpected gaps in Friday's schedule. I've a backpack of travel stuff to unpack, but its deposited on the floor at the moment waiting to be unzipped. And there's something strangely liberating about having a full weekend ahead, instead of just a Saturday. Perhaps I won't worry too much about 2019's return to balance. The guys predicting 1999 didn't do such a good job either.

entering a purple zone of tranquility

I'm in the well hidden purple quiet lounge at the moment after a day of intensive workshopping. Bundled into a hot car at the end of the session and back to the airport almost in time for the early flight.

But not quite.

A few minutes of blackberrying, some short emails and now I've decided to shut down until tomorrow and maybe just sit quietly and drink a coffee.

Actually I've still got piles of things to do, but instead I'll spend time in this slightly post industrial tranquil place, interrupted by the loud plane announcement system at two minute intervals.

sent from a handheld device

one of my time capsules has croaked

It's slightly annoying to discover that the time capsule I use to back up one of my computers has converted itself into a white brick.

I don't solely rely upon the device as a backup but I still consider the device to have been a relatively recent addition to the environment (albeit outside of warranty), probably with a main purpose to outlive the system it is backing up.

Anyway, after varied attempts to revive it, I pinged it apart and retrieved the 'Hitachi Deskstar' terabyte disk from inside it. I diagnostically tried it without the disk but not even the network lights would come on at the back of the unit.

Something rather terminal has happened inside of it. I feel a "dear Apple" email is needed.

panoramic sheep for insomniacs

The sheep were gently grazing and I didn't feel in the least bit tired. I didn't even feel the need to count them, although it's easier if you click through on the picture, which is slightly bigger than the clip I've taken..

april showers pitter pattering all around

Thor is wearing the seven league boots tonight and dragging galleons by their chains over rooftops against a carbon sky. I can smell soot, hear sudden sheet metal crashes and see blasting shards of white light from behind the nearby buildings.

I've got the window open and can smell and taste the rain as it smacks the glass roof several stories below me.

I'm not sure if the gods are angry or if it's just April.
sent from a handheld device

Lazing by the Thames before heading to Heathrow

We decided to head for Gabriel's Wharf and some South Bank sunshine. A restaurant by the River Thames and Embankment where we could people watch.

It may be touristville in this part of London, but there's always plenty to happening.

No chance to get caught up in the marathon activities this year as I have to head out to the airport anytime soon.

Panic in the Barbican

I frequently endure mild panic as I enter the Barbican complex. For varied reasons I am often late or have poorly described plans for meeting places. I get shown around by those helpful runners that guide late-comers to their ticketing desks and seats. I'm actually a member as well, but this doesn't make any difference and the idea of spending time in the special lounge might appeal but has yet to occur.

Saturday was no different as we crossed town from Chelsea in order to see Improbable's 'Panic' in the Barbican Pit. We ran across concourses, we ran down spiralling stairs, we hung a left to get tickets. We made our way into the already darkened theatre. The performance had started. The actors were on stage. "Hello", said Phelim from the stage, "...and Welcome".

We sat, gathered our wits and decided whether to be panic-ed or to take off in another direction.

Multi dimensioned, with a level describing the actors, a level around the on stage personas and then a further flight into the mystic, this is a magical and spellbinding performance.

There's a dreamlike sequencing, where what's top, bottom, left and right becomes difficult to fathom, but always within the theme of The Great God Pan being both everywhere and stuck alone waiting for his Nymphs in a bedsit in Brixton.

I enjoy the quirky portrayal, the gear changes between actors playing in the various levels, and the way even the stage's visual plane is adjusted for some of the scenes.

Pan is a tough god to deliver. Panic, bufoonery, cloven hoofed paganism, fooling with nymphs in the woods, horns sufficient to have him re-written as the devil. Or as a particularly *ahem* three dimensional character of the sort you wouldn't get in any IMAX.

Pan-character Phelim McDermott and his strong cast of (P)angela Clerkin, Lucy Foster and Matilda Leyser ran a slickly timed though intentionally haphazard performance to be proud of - "Can someone help me with the legs?" called for some complex puppetry. There was a full and metropolitan audience who laughed their way through the right parts of the show and clearly approved.

An episode about self improvement set in the middle layer labyrinth of the Brixton flat was made complex by the piles of books and sharp things on the floor which could be removed by event vacuuming. I would have sensed a random 'self -help title generator' if it wasn't for the real books being produced from brown carrier bags to illustrate the theme.

There were dream sequences with aerial swishery and personal revelations from the actors where it became deliberately difficult to determine whether these were from characters or the people themselves.

But lets not forget Pan's stand-up role in the woodlands with the nymphs. There was more than an eyeful of that too, along with revelations from the nymphs themselves of their special healing properties and other appropriate dispositions.

The staging, lighting and mystical music (was that Dolly Pardon being played backwards at one point?) added to the atmosphere of being transported into a woodland and later into the Labyrinth. Brown paper and straw featured heavily in the set which worked exceptionally well as a component of the production.

As I left, in my mind I could still hear twigs snapping, the hoot of an owl and the flutter of a bird taking off... or was it the rustle of a self help book?

Londoners...Go see!

renaissance

Sitting here listening to the Clerkenwell Polka by Madness after an evening at a Heathrow hotel. Sometimes it feels a bit nuts in the head to be going back to an airport at what should be the start of the weekend, but I was meeting a good friend from Boston who was passing through from Belfast on the way back home, with an overnighter on the H2 bus route.

He's been in a new hot shot intergalactic job for a while and it was a great chance to hear the latest and trade a certain amount of gossip over a lemonade and a glass of wine. He's on an early flight on Saturday morning. My next one isn't until Sunday afternoon.

budget wordle

UK 2009 budget as a wordle. "We're going to need a bigger plug...", etc.

collapse of plan creates a new window of opportunity

The collapse of a well made plan today for entirely external reasons means I can spend some time in the UK before I hit the trail again on Sunday.

I will still have my time cut out anyway to get my stuff done.

But tonight instead of another view of a runway, I'm back home and decided to watch some telly, and surprise people by answering the phone at rashbre central.

I can hear a conversation suggesting that I'll be at the Barbican on Saturday, but I shall try not to panic.

Slaughtered Lamb hosts The Low Anthem

After the car phoning me, I spent the rest of the day in a video conference with three other European locations, which went on until around 20:00. Now I'm in a hotel with an excellent view of a foreign runway. I can't hear the planes, but I swear I can smell that aviation fuel aroma.

The good news today was that we found out that the fabulous band 'The Low Anthem' are doing a couple of London gigs next month in Farringdon at the Slaughtered Lamb.

We've managed to bag a few tickets for both nights.

UPDATE: Reviewed here

thoughtful car averts chase by cops

I prevented a Police car chase today when my own car decided to phone me.

"Ring Ring", it went.
"Hello", I said.
"Hello I'm your car, registration blah blah blah".
"Huh?"
"I might have been stolen, check whether I'm where you think I should be..."
"Huh?"
"Press 1 if I've been stolen or 2 if you know I've been moved without the key"
"Huh?...Ahah!"
"You pressed the button to say I've not been stolen"...
...and so it went on.
Yes.
They've taken my busted car away on a flat bed trailer to have the springy-ness re-boinged. It will return a veritable Tigger in a day or two. Meantime I'll be driving to Heathrow in the green teapot.