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Early Sunday morning and @BrockwellLido was bloody closed – again. After the run of five closures during the balmy days of June, I thought Fusion had finally understood how to manage an outdoor swimming pool.

Only yesterday and I was commenting to the lovely Lido Peter how the clear, blue waters of Lake Brockwell have returned, just in time for the season close at the end of September. Sunday morning however had the familiar “chemical imbalance” given as the reason for the lack of aquatic action.

Bugger.

To be fair to Fusion, all members have been offered a 10% discount on the joining fee for the 2011 season. Cynics might say that this serves only as an incentive to sign up yet again. What’s the point if you’re buggering off @BrockwellLido continues to suffer the same fate next summer?

Having dragged my backside down to Brockwell Park early on Sunday morning, the inconvenience for me was more of a personal and emotional disappointment.

The tally chart counting down my final days of outdoor swimming in SE24 is almost in single digits. A closed pool is about as welcome as a LambethLabour pledge of “free swimming for every resident” right now.

Ah yes – about that pre-election promise of “free swimming for every resident…”

In the absence of any @BrockwellLido action, I returned down Railton Road and found myself staring into the abyss of Brixton Rec.

Blimey.

The queue at reception finally cleared after five minutes – this was 9am on a Sunday morning, after all. Ahead of me to be served was a young mother with three small kids. She asked for an adult swimming ticket, and three passes for the free swimming for her children.

“Sorry,” said the GLL receptionist. “Free swimming is no longer available.” A price was quoted, which didn’t leave much change out of a £20 note. Not surprisingly the young mother had to explain to her three small kids that swimming wasn’t going to happen today.

I paid my £3.50, and then walked past the petition on the wall set up by the Brixton Rec Users Group. It calls for @LambethLabour to reconsider its decision to slash free swimming for under 16′s and over 60′s. The election pledge of “free swimming for every resident” has long since been sacrificed.

I’m told that just over 2,000 signatures have so far been collected by local leisure users – quite an achievement. One thousand more are still required for the Rec Users Group to force the next Full Council meeting to actually take the petition seriously and debate the matter.

That Lambeth Life Power to the People twaddle of a headline is looking more false as the @LambethLabour cuts start to kick in.

With the disappointment of Brockwell behind me, and now ready to experience the delights of Brixton Rec on a Sunday morning, I showered and slipped into the pool. Five minutes later and I was finished.

It was simply impossible to undertake any form of exercise in a public pool that is rammed bumper to bumper with swimmers early on a Sunday morning. That’s what happens when the “success story” of leisure in Lambeth leads to only one pool that is actually open in the entire borough.

I’ll be back at the waters of Lake Brockwell come Monday morning. If the “chemical imbalance” is still lingering, I’ll have to admit defeat and accept that the buggers have won.

“Free swimming for every resident?”

Only in the Rotten Borough…

And so a final Lambeth Country Show for me, and I pondered the idea of spreading my love around the beauty of Brockwell Park in a sober state.

Silly boy. It didn’t last.

It was good to see the Brockwell Park gates finally back in place at the bodged Herne Hill junction. Workmen have been, um, working around the clock as the countdown to the Country Show started in mid-summer.

The bodged Herne Hill junction seemed to just about stand up to its first real test, but then the critical mass of Chucklehead Cider drinkers seems to somehow cut a sway through the cars.

The crowds seemed down on previous years, but then that was probably because I was doing my Brockwell Park wobbling walking as soon as the Show started at 11am on Saturday morning. Come chucking out time at 7pm, and SE24 was home to half of Lambeth.

There are no standout highlights – what could possibly go wrong with the promise of the countryside comes to the city? I enjoyed as ever my conversations with the many local groups, some of them serving the local community brilliantly, others just plain bonkers.

The Aussie sheep shearing man was something of a tease. Steady. He knew exactly how to work a crowd, explaining the finer points of shearing, without actually introducing the star act on to the stage.

When Dolly finally made her appearance, he held her down in an arm lock that, um, just didn’t look quite right. The suggestion that my current out of control sideburns should be subjected to the same treatment was anything but a tease.

The fit young grinning Christian female didn’t seem to comprehend my answer of “atheist” when I agreed to answer her questionnaire, and it came down to the what religion are you question. She looked squeaky clean, and rather stunning. My attempts to introduce her to atheism, via the Chucklehead Cider stall and a quick romp in the log circle, failed as miserably as my attempts to stay sober.

Ah yes – about that Chucklehead. There’s no getting away from the fact that the countryside comes to the city mantra of the Country Show has been taken over in recent years with Chucklehead Cider crossed with jerk chicken. It remains the same ethos of sorts, yet slightly more realistic when describing the average experience.

Going out on a high, I caned it big time. I peaked far too early of course, and barely managed to stay awake for the Alabama 3 homecoming acoustic set. The decision to freshen up at the Lido en route back to base wasn’t such a great idea.

The cider celebration meant that I missed the Vegetable That Looks Like a Thingy competition. Judging was still in place as we passed the tent before midday. I didn’t like to risk a return after the Chucklehead had set in.

I did wander once again past the scarecrow competition, spending five minutes chatting up what I thought was the squeaky clean fit young Christian bird once again. I banged on about the benefits of an atheist lifestyle, only realising that her lack of conversation was because she was a scarecrow.

Cripes.

Time to call it quits, time to bugger off back to base.

My final Lambeth Show was probably my favourite in fifteen summers – the scarecrows were ace, the Dark Knight of Brockwell Park was bloody brilliant and even the “they’re not real” owls who don’t exactly do a lot, kept my attention for abut ten seconds.

But the real winner of course was *shhh* the booze.

Blimey.

Chucklehead cider is the type of refreshment that your body can only accommodate once a year. I decided to bow out in style, carrying cartons of the poison back and forth across the park. I’m still trying to piece together some of those lost memories.

And so farewell then the Lambeth Country Show. I would say that you will be missed, but I can’t quite recall many of the details over the past fifteen years to be honest.

The countdown starts here for the Wivenhoe Urban Show, boi.

Brockwell Park bound and *shhh* discretion is required as I attended my annual (and probably final) inspection of the beautiful Brockwell Secret Garden at the height of midsummer.

For one month in the year, the walled garden of SE24 is truly spectacular (it’s simply spectacular for the remaining eleven months of the year.)

Hidden away behind the community greenhouse and acting as a South London sun trap, it is these late June days when the true splendour of Brockwell is best appreciated.

My early morning visit found me at one with the garden. Not a single other person in sight, which is probably where the secret part of the prefix comes from.

I positioned myself with a micro lens to capture the foliage from up close, disturbed only by a lone bee, before taking something of a soaking from a hidden sprinkler.

The high point was finding the flowering magnolia, something that my rather weak specimen back at base has failed to achieve in fours summers of SW8 attendance. We’re hopeful that the sea breeze of Wivenhoe might make a difference.

With work commitments waiting, my annual pilgrimage was as short as it was delightful. Sketches are in place, and hopefully midsummer 2011 might see something a lot closer to home to capture the beauty of an English garden at the high point of summer.

*Tuesday 22nd, 12:30 update*

Head down to the comments for the corporate response from Peter Kay, the Chief Executive of Fusion.

Original blog post…

You have to speak in *shhh* hushed tones whenever you talk about shut swimming pools around these parts. But yep – sad to say that @BrockwellLido was closed for the second consecutive morning early on Tuesday.

To not be able to offer swimming for the second consecutive morning during the height of the midsummer months is unfortunate; to repeat this act is not even careless – it’s a cock up of major proportions on behalf of Fusion.

The problem here is chlorine: too much chlorine. Fusion has been pumping the pool full of chemicals, to try and keep away the midges after the algae situation of last summer.

It’s a delicate balancing act – not enough chlorine and the algae ferments; too many chemicals and you run the risk of having to close the pool because swimmers’ skin starts to burn away.

Blimey.

And so having been told by Fusion management *not* to leave the chlorine pump on overnight, the last man standing lifeguard, um, left the chlorine pump on overnight on Monday.

Whoops.

The scenes at 7am outside Lake Brockwell were not pleasant. Swimmers are usually a serene bunch, happy to see in a midsummer morning with the tranquil activity of a dip in the great outdoors. Turn them away for the second morning running and the Speedo boys and girls tend to get a little agitated.

The lido community is more than the sum of a simple swim. We meet early morning to share friendships and conversation in what has to be the most delightful location in all of South London. It’s a way of life for the summer months, and one that doesn’t take too kindly to a corporate cock up one again from Fusion.

This is the third time this month that Fusion has forgotten how to run an outdoor pool. From memory, there wasn’t a single chlorine or algae related incident in the twelve years of the lido golden years under the fine management of Paddy and Casey.

Back in the day and the algae was attacked at source with the good old-fashioned method of a wetsuit, some breathing apparatus and a chisel. The result was the beautiful clear blue waters of Brockwell, something that has come to characterise all that is lovely about the lido.

It hasn’t helped that the Fusion site manager departed this summer, swiftly followed by the lido manager. A new team is in place, but with little knowledge in how to upkeep an outdoor pool.

And so for the second morning running, it was a return to my love / hate relationship with Brixton Rec. Sterile, suffocated, and yep, heavy on chlorine.

Yuk. No thanks.

A third morning of such inconvenience may not get the polite “pah” response from the lovely lido community of SE24.

Come on in – the water’s… um, cloudy.

Is this the most pointless zebra crossing in South London? I certainly thought so as I approached the new Herne Hill junction at Brockwell Park at the weekend. In a ten minute period, I counted ten cars in succession fail to stop for ten groups of pedestrians who were trying to enter Brockwell Park.

The new slip road in SE24 finally opened last week, following a three-year period of campaigning for and against the replacement of parkland with a road. The local community was split, with the Herne Hill Society supporting the scheme, and the Friends of Brockwell Park being adamantly against the surrendering of precious green land.

The truth lies somewhere in the middle. The old junction wasn’t working. The traffic was constantly congested; the entrance to the park was neglected and had become a haven for street drinkers. The actual park space sacrificed to solve the problem was a minor, minor 0.02%

But still – with the Brockwell Park junction now open is it actually working?

My observations on Saturday would suggest not. I accept it is still very early days, and the full implementation of the scheme is yet to be complete. The closure of the area outside of Herne Hill station to traffic is still a work in progress. The effectiveness of the overall plan can’t be properly assessed until this is complete.

But it seems to me that the planning, and justification of the scheme, has been badly thought out. The literature from our friends @lambeth_council, released in September 2007 to try and persuade locals to support the scheme, stated:

“Island Green [urgh!] will provide an attractive link between the centre of Herne Hill and the Park, giving people safer access to and from the Park.”

Island Green [urgh! again] is actually the great big slab of pavement that now replaces the green park land, the very same great big slab of pavement where pedestrians are left stranded as traffic flows down the slip road and blocks off the route into the splendour of Brockwell Park.

The fancy architect diagram contained in the literature from @lambeth_council has Island Green [urgh! urgh! urgh!] actually shaded in a soft, pastel yellow and green tone. What exists now is an unimaginative, and very out of place, huge big slab of concrete. A bit of guerrilla gardening is urgently needed.

And what of the fate of cyclists, in what is a notoriously Green political part of the borough where cycling is a stronghold? The @lambeth_council 2007 literature states:

“Forward stop lines and easier access from Norwood Road into Dulwich Road will help cyclists.”

Um, not so.

The forward stop lines are the green boxes that motorists hog up as they edge ever close to cyclists and try and gain advantage. The choice for cyclists is to be pushed aside at the boxes, or risk being rammed into Green Island, as the narrow slip road can’t accommodate anything but single file traffic.

This is a poorly thought out scheme that adds no beauty, or even ease of traffic congestion to the Herne Hill junction. As you can probably detect, my frustration over such a wasted opportunity needed an outlet.

Thankfully the very decent Robert Holden of the Herne Hill Society was at hand on Saturday to talk me through my concerns, Robert has been a passionate supporter of the scheme, and had put in an incredible workload to try and find a solution for the Herne Hill junction.

We had an enjoyable and constructive discussion. My concerns over the effectiveness, and appearance of the whole project remain. I accept time is needed to fully assess the project, and I welcomed the Robert’s enthusiasm to take on suggestions, and the possibility of making Green Island more… greener.

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.

I didn’t spend too long at the Brockwell Urban Green Fair this year. Truth be told, and I chanced upon the now annual event. A lost afternoon at the lido, and then I ventured out into the park with a spare hour or so ahead of the working evening ahead.

I’m pleased that I made the effort. Going green may not be for everyone; I can’t think of a better way of rounding off the weekend than a wonderful workshop from the ever-lovely Barney of Brixton Bicycles, and then half an hour spent with the always-engaging Mark Thomas.

The Urban Green Fair is unique within Lambeth, being booze and music free. It may sound like the perfect combination too induce chin stroking tepee bores, but it actually makes for the ideal setting for families to come together and share and learn.

The afternoon has an educational feel to it, with an emphasis on the practical rather than the theory. Barney taught me how re-wire my gear shifters and fiddle around with spokes; Mark Thomas reminded me why I should take more of an interest in global affairs as I seek to make sense of my little patch of South London.

Thomas is an infectious speaker, utilising the years of experience he has racked up on the comedy circuit to great effect, putting down political hecklers as he delivers across his message.

His current quest is to bring down the downfall of the Coca Cola Corporation. Given his previous track record of changing inerheritance tax laws, and being invited to give evidence to a House of Commons select committee investigating the arms trade, you wouldn’t put it past the protagonist to take the fizz out of the Coke empire.

Much of the afternoon was spent reading extracts from his latest book. Thomas was keen to emphasise that this wasn’t part of the promo circuit, with no books actually being on sale. His agent must love him.

And then with the global economy awaiting my arrival back in Sunny Stockwell to keep the wheels of the capitalist economy turning, I departed Brockwell full of ideas and plenty of optimism.

Independent, green festivals (um, the Cannabis Festival) have experienced problems in the past obtaining a licence from @lambeth_council. Which all seems rather strange; you couldn’t imagine a more environmentally friendly collective of people, anxious to leave the beauty of Brockwell Park in the same way in which they found it.

Something to do with the very real threat of the first Green seat soon to be won within the borough?