Happy Premo Bonds Morning!
VERY Happy PBM.
Blimey. I deserved that.
After six months of fallow pickings on the 2nd of each month, the 6am Premo Bonds app check put a big smile on my face.
I’m still some way off retirement; I might need some new CD shelves come Premo Bonds Morning next month though.
Album of the Day: The Kinks - Arthur (Or the Decline and Fall of the British Empire)
This starts with the rallying call of Victoria, and then goes downhill with each track that follows. It’s a time piece, stirring up nostalgia for a land that no longer exists. I struggled to follow the story. The Kinks were far better as a singles band than concept album bollocks.
⭐ ⭐
BLOGGED: Weir Woes: Caught Between Rock and a Water Place
“Colchester City Council is considering three options for the collapsed Middle Mill Weir at Castle Park”
It was RUNNING WEATHER outside in SW8: overcast with some light drizzle. I set out on the King of Clap’ham Common plod.
The run was timed appallingly on my behalf. It was peak rush hour in S Ldn. This seems to get earlier every morning.
I had to dodge the Bright Young Things of SW4 making their way down Clap’ham Road to bag a seat on the Victoria Line.
Once around the Common, and then I decided to bolt on the extra Lovely Larkhall Park circuit. My calf came close to pinging as soon as I plodded past The KLF’s old Transcentral HQ.
OUCH.
I took it easy around Larkhall. The park looked bloody ACE. There was a mix of freshly mowed grass, alongside some wilding along the banks and mounds.
A quick clean up back at base, and then: To The Oval! For the third consecutive day!
I arrived in SE11 to light rain. The covers were on.
Arse.
The covers came off. The Essex Slappers bowled a few overs at the ‘rrey. I couldn’t see St Paul’s from the top of the Pavilion, such was the darkness.
The covers came back on…
I’ve not sat up here for a while. I made the most of the break in play to have a shifty of the ever changing Ldn landscape.
A decade ago you could see Westminster in pretty much all its gothic glory. Now only the Victoria Tower is visible. I started singing The Kinks to myself.
The Umpires tried one more time to restart play in the morning session. The awkward partnership of Smith and Foakes were at the crease for the ‘rrey.
Play lasted one delivery this time, before the Umps thought fuck this, and took an early luncheon.
I couldn’t be arsed to hang around. I had some domestic shit to carry out in the flat. If the rain was to clear, then I am only a ten minute walk away.
Domestic shit was done. It was still a little dark out there. I wrote off the cricket for the day, and headed back towards SW4 and Wankerville on a charity shop trawl.
The commuters were replaced by the ecargo school run. Clap’ham Old Town is transformed from fifteen years ago. Pampering boutiques have replaced the old housing squats.
I had a couple of amazing finds in a couple of charity shops: a pair of DM rockabilly shoes, and a ‘unique’ pair of cargo pants. I’m still not sure if the uniqueness will allow me to have the confidence to wear them in public.
The Socialist Party of GB HQ was the only outlier in a Clap’ham High Street landscape that seems to change by the week.
A little further down the Clap’ham Road and the Comrades were handing out election leaflets for their candidate in Clap’ham and Brixton Hill. They weren’t technically inside the constituency.
Election postcodes are a repressive tool of the evil capitalist State.
Or something.
The New Cue had a decent interview with Billy Childish:
“People banging on about Rock Against Racism and Right to Work, and I really didn’t want to work. I didn’t want to go and fight the National Front.”
I’m still keen to explore his back catalogue. With over 2,000 songs, it seems that dipping my feet into Dylan might be an easier option.
Le Tour and the Euros took up Tuesday evening.
20k steps today.
Keep walking.