onionbagblog

I’m greatly looking forward to the BBC4 Electric Dreams season. There’s some genuinely imaginative programming, addressing technology and the social and cultural impact as we progress. My only surprise is that it has taken so for long for a broadcaster to understand that this genre deserves its own strand of programming.

The idea of technological progression fascinates me. Simon Armitage approached a similar theme in his recent BBC4 documentary. Of course we’ve progressed - look, you can even stream the file via the always-impressive iPlayer.

But after a day of technology woes on two fronts, I’m starting to question if the digital lifestyle really does add value to the way we share information and skills.

Just when I was starting to take all this digital publishing slightly seriously,@uk2 go and bugger it all up with a simple flick of the online switch. Major server outage has affected my hosting network over the past forty-eight hours. Little data has flowed out of @uk2′s servers; even less customer communication has followed.

Which is a mild irritant if you are a bedroom blogger, bluffing his way around the modern interweb. But when you position yourself on the next entry level and start to take on proper paying clients, the incompetence of @uk2 doesn’t reflect too well on your professional reputation - especially so when the server goes offline on the day you choose to launch a site for a new client.

Whoops.

With a lack of customer support, both online and offline, @uk2′s flaking cpanel30 server finally limped back into action late Tuesday afternoon. My hosted site followed in dribs and drabs. ‘Online propagation’ has to be one of the most pointless and frustrating phrases involving the modern interweb.

The site was still showing database errors. A quick poke around my control panel and I noticed that @uk2 had somehow managed to delete a user from mysql database. They didn’t bother to tell me of course - 99% of knowledge on the modern interweb is acquired by bluffing.

And so now I’m back in business, although slightly lacking in full FTP access. All that I need now is a reliable ISP, or even better, a mobile solution so that I can update content with whilst on site.

I’ve been very impressed with the service I receive from be, following the great Pipex screw up of last summer. But what if I want to use my mobile ‘broadband’ (ha!) dodgy dongle for site updates?

Time for technology woe #2 of the day.

I’ve not used my dodgy dongle much of late. The utterly woeful weak signal I pick up in central London isn’t worth the frustration. Plus my iPhone pretty much meets my online mobile needs now.

The 3G signal supplied by O2 on the iPhone is consistently strong and reliable. Three however has taken a step Back to the Future, with 3G speeds still stuck on 40kbps. You would have to be rather foolish to rely upon this technology as your main broadband access point within the home.

Thankfully my contract is about to come to an end. I haven’t trusted Three from day one. Bullish marketing claims, coupled with an incredibly crappy customer service, has led me to take the network about as seriously as I take a spoddy video for Google Wave.

With my Three contract finally coming to an end next month, I thought it worthy of a phone call, just to get confirmation that the crappy network won’t continue to sponge off my bank account. Turns out the premium rate call was just about justified - without official notice to cancel, the contract would have entered into a rolling period. Utter pants.

But if this back door entry to continue fleecing my for a non-existent broadband service wasn’t bad enough, my simple call to cancel became an over-inflated sales pitch.

“Why do want to cancel your contract, Sir?”

“Um, because the service is rather poor and I no longer need the functionality.”

“Before I cancel the contract, Sir, I would like to walk you through some options that might just make you change your mind.”

Not on a premium line number you won’t, luv.

It was around this point in the conversation that I went from the mildly polite to taking the p***. All I wanted was an escape clause from Three, not a monologue reading of the latest sales pitch.

I closed the deal (YES!) by asking the poor Three employee if she wanted to come out with me to a party. I had a dongle party planned, which sadly isn’t as seedy as it sounds. The idea is for guests to arrive with their dongle of choice from across a variety of different network operators. If you haven’t got a dodgy dongle then you’re not coming in.

Rather than undertake traditional party parlour activities such as key swapping, the plan is compare and contrast network speeds. Mss Three didn’t seem too confident that her package would be the main party piece.

“No worries - about that cancellation then…”

The deal was done and I’m glad to be shot of the device. I accept that mobile broadband is a maturing technology, although Three’s product has yet to reach the bum fluff stage.

And so has technology enabled or held back my way of working? The Electric Dreams vision of the ’70s and ’80′s offered the utopian world with unlimited computational possibilities. You’d be better off working with an abacus than relying upon @uk2 and Three.

Ossington Street, W2, The Way We See It.

“Over to North West London this week for a street that I couldn’t resist – even if it was only really for the name. Ossington Street is a little cut through from Moscow Road to the Bayswater Road, in effect connecting Westbourne Grove with Notting Hill Gate.

The street itself is such a curious place. Twenty years ago you couldn’t get anyone to live here; now you couldn’t even think of affording it. It has some of the most eclectic housing you can imagine.

On first look you might be unimpressed, but keep at it and you’ll be amazed at what you see. And if you’re not, have yourself a pint in the Champion and see if that changes things.”

Another Saturday evening, another delightful night spent dining at our cafe by the water. Weekly al fresco meals poolside @thelidocafe is becoming something of a routine for the fragrant mrs onionbagblogger and I. We hope to take this tradition all the way through the winter months. Our hearts were warmed to find a log fire poolside on Saturday evening. It will take arctic conditions to keep us away.

Arriving fashionably late (um, blame the ‘excesses‘ of a day at The Oval,) we were warmly greeted and offered a choice poolside seat. It looked like we had walked in on a photo shoot for Mothercare. The early evening was the launch event for the Bellies and Babies photo exhibition. I’m pleased we gave the cricket excesses a calming down period, before socialising with the ankle biters.

With the sun setting across Lake Brockwell, we went straight in with a bottle of bolly. A wise choice, and a fruity flavour to help compliment the bitter taste of the earlier cricket excess.

mrs obb and I were joined by a third dining companion for the evening; there’s talk of a fourth coming along next week. Give us until the end of the year, and our cafe by the water may just become our own private party.

The menu had been extended since the soft launch of the cafe a couple of weeks ago. I settled on a starter of goat’s cheese glazed in honey, served up on a bed of aubergines. The warm cheese was just starting to cream as it was served, with the sweet honey adding a sensation that I last experienced back at the cricket after eights cans of Carling.

The ladies went for the liver option, with a chorizo sausage also served with a side dish of a crisp salad. For a starter priced competitively under a fiver, both generous dishes could easily have been passed as the main meal.

With the Bellies and Babies crowd now safely tucked up in bed, the second sitting of the evening arrived lakeside in SE24. It was lovely to witness the exact same lido ambience that has built up over the past fifteen years at Brockwell, now transferred over to the new cafe.

The lido community are coming out in force to celebrate their new social space. We all love the lido, and asking us to politely leave the pool at 6pm each weekend has become something of a pain.

Bu with the renovated cafe now functioning as a genuine social hub for the lido community, lido life knows no end. I didn’t recognise half of my lido friends with their clothes on though.

Having sung the praises of the meatballs and couscous during my previous visit, the conservative within went with the exact same option for my main dish. My dining companions selected, um, why not let them tell you…

And so come the darkening hour around the waters of the lido, we decided to draw to a close what had been a very long, rather demanding but thoroughly enjoyable day. I settled up the bill, which surprisingly offered up some change for three diners out of a £50 note.

Mmm - this didn’t seem quite right. Even factoring in the excess of the cricket, my calculations suggested that we should have been paying something slightly more. Hey hoe. We departed back to Sunny Stockwell, did a few sums, and then realised that the bottle of red wasn’t included in the receipt.

Any other restaurant and I would probably have walked away, had a cheeky wink, and then spent the profit on yet another weekend of excess. But we plan to dine at our cafe by the water on a regular basis. I can’t be doing with all that inner guilt, knowing that we didn’t pay for the booze.

I returned to the waters of Lake Brockwell early on Sunday morning, and mumbled my way through offering some more money. An inner glow, a feeling of self righteousness and a guaranteed poolside seat hopefully for our next visit.

Match Drawn. Surrey 430 and 309-7, Glamorgan 702-8 dec (Glamorgan 11pts, Surrey 10pts)

Off to The Oval for one final hurrah of the summer. C’mon the ‘rrey! (they’re gonna need it.) #

Never seen The Oval so empty. Lemon tree (don’t ask) looking lonely on boundary. @surreycricket need to bat all day to save. 2 down. Whoops #

Beaten Beardy Weirdy Man into the ground. Surrey head bar man once again… watching cricket. Good work, fella. 49-2 the ‘rrey #

Big Ben just reverberated 11 bongs over The Oval. Legendary Surrey oik Lobby making noises of his own. May join the booze boy in Peter May #

Oh yeah, attracting flies like Surrey attract weird Members. Funny old season down in SE11. 55-2. Gonna be a slow day #

Right. Surrey head bar man has buggered off back to his bar. Which must mean it’s time for booze. Chin chin. 59-2 the ‘rrey. Slow #

Golly Gosh looks like a helicopter is about to land on The Oval strip #

When an old cricketer leaves the crease. This really is the saddest day of the season. @surreycricket lost another wicket, 63-3. Wobbling #

Autumn chill finally descends over The Oval. Cloud not lifted. Shorts and cycling top not looking so sensible now. 73-3 Surrey. Hanging on #

Sitting top tier in the Pavilion and it looks like a fire is breaking out around Victoria #

“There goes the ice cream man with the loudest tinkle in London,” said the voice of @surreycricket. Cricket quote of the season. 83-3 ‘rrey #

Luncheon atThe Oval. As expected, @surreycricket on the back foot. Afternoon looks good though with @cabbiescapital company. 100-3 the ‘rrey #

Truly tropical in the Peter May stand. Topless OAP’s. Meanwhile, back in the Member’s Pavilion and I’m freezing my nuts off. 126-3 the ‘rrey #

Lack of decent wigs at The Oval. Disappointing. 140-3 #

Game petering out for a draw. So that was a worthwhile four days then. Lack of wigs compensated by amazing hair dye man behind us. 167-3 #

Talk in Member’s Pavilion turned from cricket to Sir Cliff. A sure indication of how crap the cricket is. Expect cpts to shake hands soon #

Been at The Oval for six hours now. And guess what? We’re heading for a draw… 244-5 the ‘rrey #

Blimey. Gunter Nel is on water boy duties at The Oval. Highlight of the afto has been legendary Surrey oik, Lobby, getting over excited #

Genuinely quite tearful as another South London season comes to a close at The Oval. Could be our last #

Tried to board the Glamorgan team bus. Lard arse Cosgrave showed some action for first time in four days. Next stop, lovely lido cafe #

Another visit to the Cavendish Arms, another cracking night out in Sunny Stockwell. For an area where the phrase ‘night time economy’ used to be a euphemism for pulling a p****d Aussie bird in the truly squalid environs of The Swan, SW8 has finally got a pub to be proud of.

The Cavendish Arms looms dangerously close to the Battersea boundary, a location that no one really wants to be in. But host and hostess Dave and Shirley, have somehow managed to shake off the previous pints of lager top and double top on the darts board image.

The Cavendish is now proudly reborn, boasting a ballroom decadence, and a reputation that is slowly starting to help rediscover the long lost artistic community that once resided within Sunny Stockwell.

The monthly Thursday night cabaret sessions are quick becoming essential evening entertainment around these parts. Word of mouth has attracted an array of performers. No door charge helps; the only proviso is that performers bring along some booze-drinking buddies.

There was a party feel at the Cavendish this month. Two years since the backroom to ballroom transformation, and the fine landlady’s birthday to boot. Cheers - I’ll raise a glass or five to that.

The running order for the evening was something of a Cavendish Arm’s Greatest Hits. The finest musicians, comedians, and strippers burlesque artists that have been discovered on the ballroom stage over the past two years, were all invited along to do their turn.

The comedy slots were extended from the Virgin Night five-minute slot to something more substantial. This allowed the acts more time to develop their routines, as well as showing how their craft and interaction has been allowed the space to develop on the Cavendish stage.

But the find of the evening was Josie Lloyd, an incredibly confident, yet somewhat understated young lady, whose craft involves making hypnotic melodies out of an African kora. I can’t see Josie being play listed on Capital FM sometime soon, but the combination of intricate harp chord changes, and a voice that sounds in constant pain, is daytime radio’s loss.

This was a tough gig for Josie, along with her guitar and percussion backing musicians. The Cavendish crowd had been pumped up with some adult rated comedy, not to mention the stripper’s burlesque artists.

And then along comes a musician whose act will only work well within a silent environment. Watching the first few notes being plucked out of her kora, the ballroom floor stopped in its tracks, as her vocal range somehow matched that of her amazing instrument.

There’s a general rule of thumb that you should never cover a Beatles track. Hell, even Paul McCartney should never attempt a Beatles cover. But the reinterpretation, and pure pain of For No One drew a tear. Simply delightful.

But anyway, back to the stripper’s burlesque artists. I just don’t get the genre. It’s strippers for Guardian readers, all kitsch tease without any sense of danger, let alone eroticism. It gave me the urge to return home and download some gonzo porn to help release all that mild titillation.

I personally blame Time Out, which has championed the scene over the past eighteen months. Ah, so there’s another reason why I feel justified in having recently cancelled my weekly subscription.

In the absence of any homoerotic arousement, I was intrigued by what type of cabaret act the two overtly camp queens lurking by the side of the stage would entertain us with later in the evening. The first fella had a magnificent mohican, so proud in length, that it required the chap to perform a limbo dance just to manoeuvre beneath the ballroom door.

Queen #2 was kitted out as a biker bondage boy, who wouldn’t have looked out of place in a Frankie video. Much disappointment then to find that their ‘act’ was simply to lurk by the stage, and not a lot else. All that effort. But then I guess the act of just looking the part is what it’s all about.

Almost three hours later, and the party came to a close. Once again, my only mild criticism of the Cavendish is the lack of bar area in the ballroom. I would happily have doubled my booze intake for the evening, if it didn’t involve disturbing the stripper’s burlesque artists as they wobbled their mammary glands across half of SW8.

A finale from a Tori Amos style pianist with a sense of humour was another highlight. I can’t think that there’s much competition in writing a song that starts off as a social comment on the role of social media in shaping the musical landscape, and then concludes with the observation that crack whores in Detroit might just like music as well; but not as much as they like crack.

You see that’s the Sunny Stockwell spirit that seems to be once again finding its feet, all centred around the Cavendish Arms. There’s a real sense of community down there, with friends of friends of friends all being introduced, and then sharing and refining their artistic talents together.

That’s how *shhhhh* scenes are built up. There’s a very definite sense of a burgeoning Sunny Stockwell scene springing up right now, with the Cavendish Arms as its epicentre.

With the Canton Arms and the Royal Albert both shutting their doors in recent months, it is something of a rallying call to see the Cavendish Arms not only surviving in these uncertain times, but also thriving. You’ve got to offer something more than just booze, even if that does involve strippers burlesque artists.

Close of play, day one: Surrey 334-4 (Surrey 3pts, Glamorgan 1pt)

Taking a final drag on the fag end of the summer. At The Oval for the morning session between Surrey & Glamorgan. Hard work for ‘rrey, 40-2 #

Bloke sitting in front of me is wearing a wig. Not any old wig. It’s a wig with a pony tail. Why? 47-2 the ‘rrey. Rebuilding of innings #

Been reminded that last time I was at The Oval, I stood on a chair in the Long Room and pointed at portrait of Member wearing wig. No memory #

50 up for the ‘rrey. Been hard slog. Cosgrove and his generous waistline already has foot back in the pavilion for luncheon. Wigs are weird #

Blimey. The ‘rrey 3 down now with Walters trapped plumb. Surrey head bar man once again watching cricket, rather than pouring pints. 55-3 #

Members’ AGM should be lively this winter. We were promised season of change, not stagnation. Surrey are the Leeds Utd of county cricket #

Remember that strip of grass in South London where the #ashes were won? A pair of pigeons are currently humping on it. 65-3 the ‘rrey #

Surrey happy to hang on until luncheon. 72-3, not the best of mornings. Chap nearby has most amazing ears. You could hang washing on them #

Ah, lovely boyo Robert Croft comes into the attack for Glamorgan. Always a joy to watch #

A striking poster desgin, and yep, all lido life is good. But as the good @thebikeshow pointed out to me last year, why would you want to use public transport to travel to a lido?

Cycling and swimming - it’s the way to go.