onionbagblog

A quick heads up for local SW8 food company organicdelivery.co.uk. As the lovely Nine Elms people are first to admit:

It has been a difficult year, and if we are honest we have sometimes struggled to keep up to the high standards we set ourselves. We are going to change that.

As a mark of our thanks to all you loyal customers, we thought we’d give you a free punnet of strawberries with your delivery this week.

Credit then for admitting a few teething problems with sourcing and delivery of the food. As a reward for sticking with the business, every customer got a huge punnet of complimentary strawberries this week.

We didn’t actually notice any change in the service; the company comes highly recommended for organic fruit ‘n veg delivery each week.

All I need now is a tennis match, which still holds interest for me, in which to enjoy the produce. Anyone up for tennis at Vauxhall Park?

I’m slightly slow on the uptake here – I blame the cricket ‘n booze new blog backlog – but yeah, Surrey County Cricket Club has been given the green light to continue investing in its core business.

A cricket in the community scheme, ensuring that local talent is fast-tracked and brought within the County structure?

Don’t be silly. Building hotels is now the key business activity down in SE11.

Following an extensive (and ultimately spineless) public enquiry, the club has got the go-ahead to demolish the old Lock, Laker and Peter May stands, and put in place a £35m hotel.

It’s all about the bat ‘n ball, isn’t it?

Looking over the economic issue, my main concern is saying a fond farewell to the Peter May. This is the booze crew seating area of the ground, and many a happy long hot summer afternoon has been lost collapsing in a heap on the floor where the fancy new hotel is about to be built.

Speaking after the public enquiry concluded, Surrey Chief Exec Paul Sheldon commented:

The development is an important one both for cricket and our community. The continued improvement of facilities at the Brit Oval means that international cricket is guaranteed a place here for many years to come.

Ah, and here lies the truth behind the hotel nonsense. Surrey as a cricketing club comes very low on the agenda at The Oval. Witness the two recent relegations and general all round poor performances and management for all things cricket related.

Surrey as a business venture however is shaping up rather well. The OCS stand has a healthy turnover each year, with conference facilities and gym membership pulling in the pounds. Quite how a hotel will benefit a struggling Surrey team is not so clear.

Sheldon’s blatant hat tip to Test matches is another key feature to focus on. Everything around The Oval is now structured around hosting a Test match each summer. With Old Trafford having missed out on the Test match gravy train this summer, paranoia has crept in over losing the annual South London pay day.

The notoriously batting friendly Surrey strip is all very well for producing exciting Test matches once a year, but the Surrey hierarchy tend to overlook the downside of having a home team that continually fails to bowl out the opposition during four-day matches.

And what of Surrey’s new business partner, the exotically sounding Arora International Hotels? The project is being

generously funded by development partner Arora,

added Sheldon.

I doubt if a multi-national leisure chain has any interest in how the Surrey stiffs are getting on. Blue chip companies that generously fund a development project usually expect something back in return.

I’m not alone in my hotel woes. You can catch my three cheery Love Me I’m a Liberal local Councillors looking like they’ve just won the lottery sucking on lemons outside The Oval over here.

Play, play, play the game…

Close of play, day two: Surrey 186-2, Middlesex 385 (Middlesex 4pts, Surrey 3pts)

Finally made it to St John’s Wood and Lord’s for the afternoon session. No small thanks to the Genius Bar and the Apple go slow time #

Middle Sex Sex Sex all out for 385. Surrey innings underway. Blimey – Jonathan Batty is opening. Surrounded by naked flesh. All old men #

6-0 Surrey in the 5th over. My booze rate is far more healthier. Play, play, play the game #

On reflection, I think I’m in love with the girl geek in the Genius Bar. Oh yeah, 21-0 Surrey #

Old boy in front of me has just necked either a blue smartie or a Viagra tab. At the cricket, honestly #

In the Land of Blind, one eyed man is King. Which at Lord’s, means he who drinks the most and displays flesh, gets to wear crown. I am King #

After twenty summers, I’ve finally realised that cricket is a game of suntans first, sporting endeavour second. 62-0 Surrey #

Ah, here comes Mr Ramps. 62-1 the ‘rrey #

For Butcher and Ramprakash, read Pearce and Clough. I’m a happy man right now. 92-2 Surrey #

Trip to toilet and I’m reminded of my fave Lord’s moment: once saw a bloke syphon his python without removing shorts. Old Man poked through #

Booze, cricket and the sun. Hitting yourself over the head with a large hammer has to be healthier #

Full flickr set over here.

It’s another case of confused editorial in Lambeth Life, the Council Tax funded information sheet for Lambeth residents, published by our friends @lambeth_council. Mixed in with worthy local Lambeth news about funding for Myatt’s Fields Park, community expo forums and the countdown to the Country Show, flick to page 4 and you’ll find a full on interview with that well known Lambeth face, um, Alan McGee.

Alan McGee and the Creation of a Pop Dream [PDF] carries about as much relevance to the Lambeth electorate as the term ‘value for money’ carries in relation to the wasting of Council Tax money on such crude churnalism.

The tenuous hook on which to hang the interview is that Mr Creation is putting on one of his Death Disco nights down the road at Jamm in July. Entry on the night is £10. No mention of concessions to Council Tax payers. I think the Lambeth Life piece is therefore known as an advert, although I doubt if any money changed hands.

It’s not the fact that Mr McGee’s one trick pony of playing God awful junkie inspired sixth form guitar nonsense mistaken as New York 70’s chic cool that causes offence to me (although some of the crap that Al has been trading off for the past ten years is enough to turn anyone towards folk music.)

Nope, it’s the blatant plugging of the night in a Council publication that is probably of interest to less than 1% of the residents of the Borough. A full page as well – just think of the genuine worthy good news stories around the Borough that could have delivered a positive message, rather than Mr McGee’s liberal use of the C word, feebly asterisked out by the subs at Lambeth Life in an attempt to look cool within the Council chambers.

I’ve tweeted our friends @lambeth_council asking to justify such a waste of space (the article, not Mr McGee.)

Next month: H from Steps speaks EXCLUSIVELY to Lambeth Life, all about his favourite brand of toothpaste.

Fenchurch Station was the first in the City and designed by William Tite in 1841 and rebuilt in 1854 to a design by George Berkeley. Unlike the other London stations this one doesn’t have an associated underground station.

Set in it’s concourse, the station has quite a bit of charm and like most places in the City, you can either go there and find it absolutely rammed or go at the weekend to find it deserted.

A triumphant Saturday night Glasto headline act, and then the surprise offer of a ticket to see Springsteen at Hyde Park on Sunday evening – I wasn’t going to call time on the Boss now, was I?

I last saw Bruce in the less palacios setting of, um, Crystal Palace. Two balmy nights on The Rising tour left me rather tearful, after a rollercoaster ride of all emotions known to a solitary South London blogger.

It’s this ability for the multi-millionaire rock star to engage with everyday people that makes Springsteen such a live draw. Some folk actually believe that Bruce still wears his blue collar when’s he not on tour or making records, holding down a regular day job working at the gasoline station. I needed a fair few shifts myself to fork out for the £50 ticket.

And so following a curfew breaking Vale of Avalon set twenty-four hours previous, the organisers of Hard Rock Calling (urgh) at Hyde Park were taking no chances. The running order for the afternoon was shifted forward half an hour. But I was too busy back at base earning cash to pay for the Bruce ticket to be slightly bothered about missing the bloody awful Dave Matthews Band.

And so cometh the rather early Rock God hour of seven o’clock, cometh the man they call Broooce!!!

The problem for Bruce in 2009 is how to pull off your teenage rock opera meets Phil Spector style production, when you are a 58 year-old man and Phil Spector is banged up inside for murder.

Anyone who caught Bruce camping it up at Glasto will know that the Rock Star game can still be achieved, with only the slightest element of irony. All that sliding around on your knees can’t be good for an old man.

Keeping with the UK theme of opening with a Strummer song, Coma Girl of Glasto was replaced with London Calling. Slightly stodgy, churned out with little understanding of the song. But at least it kept the Absolute Radio punters happy, oblivious to any other songs in The Clash back catalogue.

Wearing a black cotton shirt was a bit of a fashion faux pas for Bruce. The humidity of Hyde Park had the sweat stains visible before we even got to the second verse of London Calling. No one could ever accuse The Boss of being boyband material.

Introductions out of the way, and then we were straight into large swathes off the Born to Run album. Every track seems to start with the legendary: “One! Two! Three! Four!” Every track holds a personal memory for the Hyde Park crowd.

The show itself was incidental. It was the soundtrack to teenage years, growing up, settling down and starting families that most of the crowd had come along to celebrate.

Out of the new material, Outlaw Pete really shouldn’t work. It’s Ernie, The Fastest Milkman in the West played out New Jersey style. But Bruce somehow pulls it off, even down to the removing of his Stetson hat, signalling the downfall of our outlaw hero.

Out In the Street provides the first comedy value of the evening. Bruce likes to do the meet ‘n greet thing down with the crowd at the front. He failed to make it back on to the stage in time for the vocals, collapsing on the stairs in a rare moment of lost showmanship. No worries – the Big Man was on duty to step into the cowboy boots and deliver a killer chorus line.

Large chunks of the set were taken from the autocue of the audience placards. I’ve never seen so many cardboard requests, which to his credit, Bruce collected up and placed them on the stage as a new set list started to take shape. I somehow can’t see Take That being so flexible, and it was a reminder that I really should have brought along my Santa Claus is Coming to Town cue card.

Bits of Born in the USA continued the lifestyle sound checking show, although obviously not *that* song. Regular forays and flirting with the females at the front continued, especially so for Dancing in the Dark. No Courtney Cox style moment, no bandy leg dancing either.

Racing in the Street came straight out of an audience placard cue, and Bruce was rewarded with tears, embraces and even kisses. And that was just the blokes – seriously.

And then some two hours and fifty minutes since London Calling signalled the arrival of Springsteen in central London, the sun finally set and Bruce had disappeared backstage with the rest of the E Street Band.

The Boss (or The Employer as Spinal Tap referenced him on Saturday afternoon) still remains the best live ticket in town. Even if that live ticket is a particularly expensive one and is *shhh* likely to leave you in tears yet again.

Broooce!!!

Setlist, June 28, 2009, Hard Rock Calling, London, England:

London Calling
Badlands
Night
She’s The One
Outlaw Pete
Out In The Street
Working On A Dream
Seeds
Johnny 99
Youngstown
Good Lovin’
Bobby Jean
Trapped
No Surrender
Waiting On A Sunny Day
Promised Land
Racing In The Street
Radio Nowhere
Lonesome Day
The Rising
Born To Run

Rosalita
Hard Times
Jungleland
American Land
Glory Days
Dancing In The Dark

A lost hour or so around the Secret Garden at Brockwell Park is one of the high points of the high summer for me. The Victorian Walled Garden comes a very close second to the lido for all round loveliness during these long hot summer days.

The hours of effort put in by the dedicated Lambeth gardening staff can be enjoyed by all for a few weeks at the peak of the season. That’s not to say that the Secret Garden goes to seed throughout the rest of the year, but a garden in June is a garden in bloom.

Little has changed in the decade or so of my summer visits to the garden. This has probably been the case for the past one hundred years. The reputation of the garden is with its roses, leaving a delightful fragrance for all to enjoy.

My brief visit this summer was a quiet affair; last year I had a bonkers Brixton experience by stepping right into the living set of a children’s production of Alice in Wonderland.

Maybe I was dreaming this? Much of my time in the Walled Garden is spent sleeping away the afternoon.

Shhhhh!!!

Full flickr set over here.