a state of England

A few days of travelling around the centre has given me a chance for some reading. I realise I've pretty much abandoned new normal books now and tend to use the Kindle.

It wasn't something I was expecting, but there's the convenience factor of small size and ability to store a whole reading pile instead of limiting to a single book.

That's not to say I won't pop into bookshops as well, but it does highlight a change.

And yes, I realise my iPad also has a Kindle reader, but there's a few factors that keep me using both. One is reading outdoors, where the iPad isn't as clear if its sunny. The other, which sounds a little feeble is the respective weights. The Kindle is decidedly lighter and more compact than the iPad when reading for a while.

Alongside finishing my proper paperback copy of Hemingway's 'To have and have not' which is set in Key West (which is where I bought it), I've been reading the latest Martin Amis book 'Lionel Asbo'.

They both feature a main protagonist who has to do 'a bit of this and a bit of that' to keep head above water, but for Hemingway's character there's a bit of a downward spiral, whilst Amis gives his character a lottery win.

I've always enjoyed the turns of phrase in Martin Amis writing, and this one continues that, with a set of Dickensian named characters and places set in a missing part of London called Diston, conjuring any number of Hackney/Dalston/Leyton-esque parts of the capital.

We get a slice of London, rough, violent, fairly disgusting and the subsequent magnification of the characters via the immense money that appears within the plot line.

I know Martin Amis leaves many readers divided but I'm one who has enjoyed quite a few of his novels over the years. The early Rachel Papers was a singleminded plot line first book but then the middle books where he painted some of his London street life characters whether directly or indirectly engaged in some form of crime.

And along the way there was Time's Arrow, which took a stark theme and played the action in reverse, I can still remember reading a sample chapter of that in Granta before it emerged as a novel and wanting to finish it when we arrived at my station.

So what to make of the latest one?

A banged-up convict who wins crazy money and dates a Formula 1 Pit Pet who wants to be a poet and sell underwear. A nephew with a torrid secret who is trying to tread an altogether conventional path. A stately home guarded by pitbulls named after murderers. You get the picture?

Some of Martin Amis' writing is truly tonto and all the more fun for it. Other recent London books I read were 'Hackney - that rose red empire' by Sinclair and 'Capital' by Lanchester. Sinclair's was a heavy book and sometimes dull. Lanchester's grounded a believable street story which at times became an over-explained soap opera. Amis drives his questionable set of characters and situations relentlessly right up to the edge. And somehow turns it back on us all.

posh bubble lies

I passed David Cameron in the street again this week. He was walking back from Parliament to Downing Street, which is a brisk 5 minutes, dependent on traffic and obstacles.

It proved to me that he was back from Mexico where he'd distracted from Eurozone and Syria with UK tax dodging and the Falklands.

So his feet on a local pavement might be useful as world media start to provide a London focus for the upcoming games.

The bubble world creates an easy distraction. With the City as a place that makes money out of money, there's every chance to be caught in virtual unreality, like the business guy sealed into his mobile office car in Cosmopolis.

When the Libor thing first appeared in the papers it was on about page 7, along with a mention of the mere £250m fine imposed on the bank implicated in profiteering on billions. Here's the people in the city that makes it's main living out of trading promises, yet here's some of the same self-interested people trading on lies.

It's difficult to comprehend the scale of deceit now in the financial trade, with dodgy housing loans, mis-sold swaps, poor insurance practices, bale-outs at the scale of national economies, global interest leverage fixed by cartel and exploitation of small businesses through sneaky interest rachets.

No wonder submarine captain Osborne whispered "bring about" on the petrol surcharge, as another distraction. I can't work out (a) whether anything is left from that budget or (b) why cowardly Osborne still has his role.

That last statement's not true, of course. Anything's OK if you're in the Riot Club.

on the wrong side of a police line

I found myself on the wrong side of a police line today. I'd been in a meeting in Central London and when it finished I exited the building into sunlight and a surprisingly quiet street.

That's when I noticed the red and white tape.

And then the blue flashing lights and the policemen.

I looked along the road the other way - a similar scene.

Hmm, the door I was existing from seemed to be about in the middle of a 200 metre strip of street that had been cordoned off.

I decided to walk towards the policemen, and the large crowd of people behind them. I also noticed the traffic seemed to be quite backed up behind the police and the flashing lights.

I was fairly aware of the helicopter overhead, but not sure if it was related.

Of course, as I exited the cordoned area I asked the policeman what was happening.

"Suspect package."

Old habits made me walk around a corner. There was now both distance and large building between me and the tape.

As I then walked back towards Whitehall, I noticed what is probably my personal best for a row of buses. It's not so unusual to see a dozen buses in a row in Trafalgar Square.

This time, as I walked towards Westminster Bridge I counted 33 buses. Actually I think there were more but I gave up counting at around that point.

All caught up in the same cordon and road shutdown. I'm hoping it was part of the various London practices that are taking place.

And then over the bridge. Westminster Bridge - after what I'd blogged yesterday, I noticed it was strangely devoid of Eastern Europeans playing card tricks or shell games.

It turns out that today a Route 2 red bus had been commandeered by the police. They drove it alongside the Romanian card players and then swooped to round them all up. Actually, they had attempted to drive it to the bridge but were initially stuck in the dense traffic that I'd noticed. London has its own variation on a car chase. One could surely say the card tricksters were BUSted.

I noticed Shrek and the bagpipe player were still in operation.

we are the space invaders

I've written previously about crossing Westminster Bridge during busy times. If I'm alone I sometimes think of it like a game of Space Invaders, where there's all manner of unexpected obstacle to traverse.

From the south side it starts as you pass the hot dog stand 'chili dogs available' and then progresses all the way to the traffic lights by Parliament and the soon to be named Queen Elizabeth Tower.

There's random tourists, groups of students with identifying hats or tee shirts or jackets, people with cameras taking pictures of "Big Ben" at various distances according to their camera lens.

One of my favourites is the small groups of tourists with wheely bags and cameras, clearly distracted about what they are doing. They sometimes remind me of those little toys that whirl around looking for edges to bump into.

There's always a selection of dodgy traders and someone usually playing bagpipes or an accordion. Nowadays there's a few rickshaws toting for tourists and parked along the red lines as well.

Then there's the rotation between people dressed up as characters from Shrek or the people playing three card trick and shell games. Take a picture of someone in the costume and expect to donate a banknote. And weirdly the card playing crowd or shell game crowds all seem to have a general Eastern European family resemblance to the person operating the game. Except for the normally far Eastern tourist waving £20 banknotes around in the middle.

There's always the gang's 'watcher outers' for whatever illegal operation is under way and they will set up 6 or 7 pitches across the bridge at one time. Nowadays the police are using pedal bikes as a way to home in rapidly on the naughtiness.

I suppose it's inevitable that the area will attract modern day costermongers to ply their wares but rip-off gambling in the shadow of Parliament still seems wrong. I blogged about this some time ago but yesterday noticed that it has now been discussed in Parliament, presumably as another part of the tidy up for the games.

Oh, and on reflection, maybe it's more like Galaxian than Space Invaders?

ancient corner of a marsh

We stayed at a pub after the gig, in a small 17th century place on Romney Marsh. Next door was a churchyard and we had a proper look at the church the next morning.

I initially wondered about the large construction next to the main church, which looked something like an Oast house used for storing hops.

Then I wondered if it was the remnants of an earlier church, maybe in a Nordic style?

It turned out to be something rather improbable. It was the belltower, typically something you put on top of the church. Apparently there's a legend that when two very unlikely people got married, the steeple jumped off the roof of the church.

The practical version is that the original construction was built in the 11th Century as an open structure with a single bell to warn of impending floods. Then it was modernised in the 15th Century by the addition of the external cladding and a full complement of church bells.

For such a small church the main building was well stocked with unusual artefacts too. There was a 13th Century wall fragment showing St Thomas of (nearby) Canterbury and a leaden font from the 12th Century (probably nicked from France), inscribed with the signs of the Zodiac.

And tipping its hat to modernity was a set of precision weights and measures which included the differentiations of a Winchester pint and a separate Wine pint.

They were from as recent times as 1799.

detached viewing?

We were zipping about around Kent at the weekend and did spend some time at a music concert. On the way in there was the usual bag check, but I noticed a slightly different phrasing of a question.

"Do you have a camera?

"Does it have a detachable lens?

I suppose it's a sign of the things to come at the Olympics, where there appears to be a specification for maximum permissible camera. The spec appears to be a maximum size of 30 cms, including the lens.

I presume these measures are to stop commercial photography. I go to a wide range of music venues, from small pubs to muddy fields to theatres and arenas and in some cases quite enjoy taking a few snaps of whom I'm seeing.

I get it that theatres have "no pictures" policies, but I'm less sure about the other categories.

Events like Glastonbury (not on this year) have been kind to picture takers and I guess it spreads the word about some bands as well.

At such an event, there's still the fun of getting to the front for some shows, although its actually quite easy if you follow a more mellow approach to the music.

It's different with a mainly 'single artist' show, where the true fans have queued for hours to take their spot. We polled into the gig on Saturday about 10 minutes before the main act was due to start, so there were about 6,500 people in front of us in any case.

So we initially found a spot on the stripy cable casing that runs from the mixer desk to the main stage. It gives a usable height advantage if you are late and don't mind a slightly oblique angle.

But true to form, many of the people who had spread out picnic cloths and little chairs actually moved forward as the main act started, so a better position was available in the front but quite a long way back.

That's why the pictures are all 'top halves'. There were too many people in front to get legs as well. And I had to use an itsy little camera without a detachable lens.

carbon dioxide cooled, graphite moderated, natural uranium and magnox alloy cladding with boron-steel control rods

Another coastline today - that's three Sundays in a row. Key West, East Anglia and now The Channel, facing towards France.

Again, a surprising lack of people, but then it was getting ready to rain.

You can just make out the decommissioned nuclear power station without secondary containment in the distance.

i gazed a gazely stare

Divided loyalty tonight, with a combination of muddy 2012 Isle of Wight coverage playing against some vintage television clips of Bowie on strange channels where I don't even remember the idents.

Probably a Captain Morgan phenomenon.

Anyhow, for big gigs, a combination of musicianship and showmanship is needed. At least an audience connection. So the Spiders somehow beat the very worthy and drum beating Elbow.

And then a second chance for the Island to shine with its HD 3D format rockers, yet a 4:3 SD with black side bars of Bowie at the BBC Radio theatre trumps.
The wall-to-wall is calling, it lingers, then you forget.

Ja, und dann sind wir Helden, für einen Tag.

Oh, and as for London Calling being used in Olympics promotions, someone should check out the apocalyptic lyrics.

at the top of the dial

London's preparations for the various upcoming events continue. Yesterday I was around Waterloo and noticed quite a few people in demonstrable finery (morning suits, top hats, ladies in fine frocks and big hats).

Of course, they were on their way to the races - I suspect that some will not return in quite such composed conditions.

That event neatly precedes the Wimbledon season and then the home stretch towards the Olympics, with the parallel Cultural Olympiad festivities also kicking off right now.

Yesterday's Metro and Stannit both had wrap-around adverts from British Airways saying "don't fly" - which did make me smile. The premise is to stay in London and support the teams during the games.

The trick with all of this will be to figure out how to do it without turning into a tourist. London is a great capital, but there's a need to be careful and not get sucked into the mainstream tourist vortex.

I'll confess this happened to me briefly a few weeks ago, when we'd selected to go to a particular show which turned out to be truly awful. I don't recollect blogging about it at the time. It was not one of my finest decisions and we decided to leave after about 20 minutes.

It's that dilemma about having booked to see a show and then not liking it. Do you stay because you've paid or leave to get the time back? We left and decided that the show in question was a crass money spinner designed to extract cash from the gullible (oops).

So I'm hoping that there are not too many of those type of events in the run up to what will be a peak number of visitors to the capital.

Like many tourist rich cities, there's a sort of two tier economy between those that work and live in the centre vs those that are on a short vacation. I'm equally aware of this when I'm in other countries and don't have time to tune into the right frequencies.

So I guess I'll be just slightly more alert as the city gets remodelled for the next few weeks.

seeing ghosts

I took a few pictures during the music gig last Saturday, but have only just had a chance to upload them from the camera.

I hadn't really planned to take pictures and strangely enough, as we moved from further away to closer to the front I could sense my likelihood to get any sensible snaps diminish.

It was a combination of factors, I'd only brought a small camera and the density of people close to the stage (but not at the front) meant shooting through the gaps to get anything at all.

The singer above is Nerina Pallot, who played a good and quite joyfully delivered set, mixing her own piano and guitar based songs and accompanied by a small band comprising bass guitar and drums.

I know it's a rather impressionistic snap, which I took on automatic mode instead of the shutter priority I usually use at these type of events. I usually keep the shutter speed fast enough to prevent everything getting very blurry, which is a factor with a lot of stage lighting shots, even at pretty fast ISO ratings.

But here, using the camera's auto mode, I noticed something that I've also seen when I'm walking around galleries or sometimes in churchyards.

I call it 'ghosts'.

It's when, with a modern camera on its automatic setting, it thinks it has seen a face.

It puts up that little square display that locks on to the face to keep it in focus.

Some cameras (including mine), can also put up multiple little face squares.

It's sometimes quite touching to see an old portrait in a gallery or a stone carving in a churchyard get the squares appear. The camera is thinking it's seen person, and in a way it has.

Here, at the music gig, there was a different phenomenon. The camera would pick up the faces of other people in the audience. Weirdly, it would be the one's that were not so engaged, maybe just talking or looking around.

The reason was obvious. In automatic mode the camera was deciding what type of picture to take. Then suddenly it it would spot a nearby face )much closer than the artist on stage) and would flip into its portrait setting.

I think I'll go back to traditional shutter priority for music venues.

neither piety nor wit

The march of technology continues in the workplace. We had the Nokia cellphone, then the Blackberry and more recently the iPhone. Now we see the iPad increasing its corporate presence.

It started as a travel adjunct which would be used to view movie clips, then became part of the PowerPoint presenter's toolkit but more recently is becoming a note-taking aid.

There's plenty of new discussions about the choice of stylus and I'm starting to see handwritten notes being forwarded.

It will probably still take some time to mature and of course a short note will eat up even more storage and bandwidth.

But I suppose I'd better get one of those styli now, because just writing with a finger somehow looks wrong.

Another evening in Wales

East coast to west coast in a day. Me arriving late, just as the nearby clubs were getting going.

It had quietened down again by about 3 a.m.