onionbagblog

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.

Close of play, day three: Surrey 362 and 195-3, Derbyshire 334 (Surrey 7pts, Derbys 6pt)

Off to watch cricket in Croydon, with the nicest cab driver I know. I only know one cab driver #

Made it to the Whitgift after a trawl around Croydon. Sitting in the sun with @cabbiescapital, watching @surreycricket #

Oh yeah, Gunter Nel has his backside in my face #

Gunter Nel scratching his balls on the boundary #

Strange man sitting nearby with a wild animal resting on his head. 209-8 Derbyshire #

Old boy sitting on the boundary with either shaving cream, or a bodily fluid dripping down his ear. 223-8 Derbyshire. Need a wicket #

Talk has turned towards cricketing infidelities. I’m keeping quiet. Hard work for @surreycricket. Should have seen off Derbys by now. 255-8 #

Lunch at the Whitgift. @surreycricket frustrated by Derbys tail, 279-8. Been invited for stroll around the outfield. Kids bat & ball action #

Gunter is fuming on the boundary. Steam coming out of ears. 308-2 Derbys. Ice creams appealing. Think Mr Nel needs one. C’mon the ‘rrey #

Finally a wicket. 331 Derbys. Gonna buy Gunter an ice cream. Unusually high number of knitting spinsters sitting around me #

Derbys all out for… Um, beer time of the day. Jonathan Batty pegged it off to pavilion, ahead of opening batting. Steaming Croydon afto #

Good afto for Saffer spotters in S London. Now staring up the arse of Nanti Hayward on the Whitgift boundary. Relax, girls. Wearing Y-fronts #

Minor incident in the Whitgift ice cream tent. Kid bowled a bouncer at me. I tossed the ball back, taking the f***** out #

Wonderful. @cabbiescapital has let me in through his Whitgift WIFI back door. 18-0 the ‘rrey #

Ice cream tent woes put into perspective. Bloke in front just dropped radio into his pint. Nanti Hayward Y-fronts strangely alluring #

12th man must wear flip flops #cricketlaws #

Weird big screen at Whitgift. It’s showing a slideshow of what appears to be Head Teacher’s home slide show. Half expecting readers’s wives #

‘ere we go. Mr Ramps is in. The master walked to the crease in the same time it takes me to polish off a can. The great man is in no rush #

Mr Ramps just slogged all the way into the Head Teachers’s corporate tent. Sorry, Sir. 131-0 @surreycricket #

Cricket bores are the best bores #

Stumps at the Whitgift. @surreycricket made a run dash towards close, 195-3. Derbys’ Stefan Jones got a bit friendly towards end. Nice boy #

Leaving Croyden. Hopefully for the final time #

Full flickr set over here.

Is content still king? Of course it is. Looking at a blank page on the modern interweb defeats the ethos of sharing information for the wider good. But in the land of Broadband Britain, the user with the 10meg connection is King. Or even the individual with the iPhone audioboo app is King.

I’ve raved about audioboo before. Put simply, the podcast on the fly iPhone app is a game changer. Record, publish and distribute via Twitter or an iTunes feed. It’s podcasting for idiots, which is why I tend to use the service rather frequently.

I’m not alone, either. Although BIG media seem slow on the uptake (I wonder why!) the benefits of audioboo as a content creation service are being used by niche broadcasters.

Resonance’s Bike Show has picked up on the idea of generating listener submissions via audioboo. It’s the simplicity of the service, combined with sourcing of new content form the people that really matter, which is so appealing.

Whereas BIG media book in advance a knobber ‘expert,’ organise a car to pick them, put them in make up, get them slightly sloshed in the green room and then get the ‘expert’ to ramble on some nonsense that we all knew about anyway, audioboo allows similar ‘experts’ to add their submissions, all from the comfort of their own bedroom.

Which is exactly what I did when @thebikeshow put out a request for audioboo reflections on Le Tour, for future broadcat. This call for submissions also worked well during last month’s Dunwich run, allowing riders to record a very personal reflection as the evening unfolded.

So yeah, my ramblings on Le Tour may not exactly be the greatest piece of audio ever recorded, but it makes about as much sense as the mainstream knobber media whores who are taxied in to have a run through of Her Majesty’s popular prints on the news channels during the early hours.

Content is still king, but crowdsourcing is the uprising from the masses. You need to create to be criticised. Sitting around doing nothing is not the answer. That’s when the mainstream knobber media whores get to maintain the status quo.

Chapeau!

Never thought I would see Super Furry Animals headline an ice cream fest at Clap’ham Common. Band Don’t Give a F**** #

mrs obb and I use to think nothing of losing four days at a festival. This afternoon and four hours on Clap’ham Common seems too long #

Trying to work out when we last saw Super Furries and The Fannies (steady.) Glasto ’95 seems like a good bet #

Reminding mrs obb that all of the Fannies records sound the same #

Standing in an ice cream queue, on Clap’ham Common, behind a rather tall goth. He’s going for the Chunky Monkey special #

Deciding to trim down to King of the Mountain figure can wait. There’s 22 free ice creams on offer to sample. Shame about the music #

Think the Fannies are about finished. We’ve had four new songs, all written in that cuddly & familiar stuck in ’92 twangy style. Ice cream time #

Had two blokes walk past, both carrying six bottles of beer, both lost and both equally p*****. Sober girl carrying six ice creams is fine #

I use to camp outside beer tent at festivals. Currently taking up a strategic location outside the ice cream stall #

Ali G’s ice cream glove would come in handy, here on Clap’ham Common #

mrs obb just reminded me of SFA’s sonar tank that made cows vomit. Ben & Jerry branding all around Clap’ham Common is of… cows. Cool as F*** #

And here come the Super Furries. Type of band that passes you by for a decade, but still don’t disappoint. Techno opening #

Don’t think SFA’s Welsh tinged take on old school techno meets Krautrock is rocking the Friends of Clap’ham Common stall #

mrs obb just asked: “Are Ben and Jerry really headlining?” Sweet. SFA currently running Rings Around the World #

This is a lovely early evening set from Super Furries. Demons, Hello Sunshine, If You Don’t Want Me to Destroy You. Bonkers, bonkers band #

Parents covering up the saintly ears of the young children of Clap’ham, as Super Furries shake up the Common with *that* song #

Business ain’t good for the lone ice cream van parked outside Clap’ham Common #

Back from Clap’ham & Ben & Jerry. Really enjoyed Super Furries. Reassuring, yet rather disturbing band. Irony they now have Ice Hockey Hair #

Managed to get the Moulton up College Road and towards Crystal Palace. This feat alone deserves a gold medal #

Queues almost the length of a half marathon to get in at Crystal Palace. Crap #

Meet ‘n greet the athletes turns out to be a nasty corporate tent with the sole aim of athletes saying Adidas as often as possible #

Taken up seats, right by 100m start. Hope Mr Bolt hasn’t been dining at NY Burger stall. Wheelchair 1500 in progress #

WTF are Mcains doing sponsoring an athletics event? Women’s 400m heats up next. Not much sign of crappy chips as running fuel #

Cripes – we’re sitting within striking range of the shot put. Trying not to catch the gaze of a rather muscular Russian female #

Evergreen Christian Malcolm up in 200m. Blimey. Whatever next? Seb Coe at Crystal Palace? Careful what you wish for #

Oh dear. Shout just gone out for a medic to the shot put area. Asafa Powell warming up in front of us #

I was going to model myself on a 1500m runner. Dr A has just turned up with a jumbo hot dog, so shot put build, here we come #

Absolute stroll for Powell in 100m heats. Mr Bolt’s up next, and he stretching out right in front of me. Blink and you’ll miss it #

Three false starts, and mild panic from promoters that he wouldn’t make it, but yep, Usain Bolt is through to the final #

Ah, bollocks. That knobber Sebastian Coe is pruning around Crystal Palace #

Sand pit being raked at Crystal Palace. Hop, skip & jumpers are getting very excited #

Shot putters must be capable of one hell of an orgasmic roar. And that’s just the women #

Bloke sitting next to me at the athletics is sloshed. He must be about 85. Bless. Loving the long jump #

Just been revealed that medic for shot putter was to attend winning male. Steward dropped shot put on his foot. Whoops #

Skies beginning to bruise, with 100m final just around the corner. Fantastic finish to 5000m race. Should have brought my running shoes #

Women’s 4x100m relay. Quadruple the talent on show, so to speak #

So you break a British record in the pole vault, and you get given a big cheque made out in dollars. Gee whizz #

Right, we’re almost at the 100m final. Much excitement. Want to audioboo it, but Dr A said I will sound like a right knobber #

Bolt is dancing away on the starting blocks #

Full flickr set over here.

Another Friday morning, another regular Tuttle Club meet up, give or take the odd three-month lapse in my coffee and carrot cake with London’s social media hub.

Whoops.

I’ve missed out on Tuttle for some time now. Just as one Friday freelance project came to an end, another time specific one started. Tuttle is a very loose, free form type of club. The one rule is that Tuttle meets every Friday. But even a freelancer has to earn.

And so with a rare window in my weekly routine, I cycled off to the ICA on Friday morning for a coffee and a catch up with the lovely folk of Tuttle. Although not exactly a regular, it was as though I had never been away.

Despite all your fancy social media tools enabling greater cooperation amongst the crowd, you still can’t control the English weather. Mid-July, and Tuttle for this week had been deemed an outdoor, al fresco event, held just down The Mall at St James’s Park.

Having rendezvoused with @darryl1974 and @funkturm, the rain chose to descend upon central London. We spent the best part of five minutes trying to decide if a bunch of German teenage backpackers were the new, zestful face of Tuttle. Turns out they were just as lost (and wet) as we were.

No worries – when in doubt, descend on the familiar ground of the ICA. Tuttle was in full flow, and within minutes I was talking with a complete stranger about the potential crossover within the fields of psychoanalytic study and technology. That’s not normally a conversation you have down the Dog ‘n Duck on a Friday night.

I needed the offline inspiration for a particularly painful online project that I am currently having some problems with. Working remotely has great benefits, but isolation is not one of them. Sometimes you just need a fresh perspective, a friendly chat and some inspiration with where to go with the project next. Thankfully I found that renewed vigour within the ICA on Friday morning.

I didn’t get to do the meet ‘n greet with a great deal of other Tuttlers. The rain had slightly dampened my mood, and I was feeling slightly *shhh* unsocial at a social media meet up.

But Tuttle is what you make of it. In many ways it is like the underground parties I occasionally attended in the mid ’90s; you pull up to a complete stranger, ask them what their online ID is and then take it form there. Thankfully the ketamine wasn’t in action at the ICA.

Other chats followed, with a new pal who seems to balance marketing with development. He can roll out systems, and then market them himself. Perfect sense.

With work calling later in the afternoon, I made my Tuttle exit shortly after lunch, feeling better for having made a slight effort, although weary that I wasn’t exactly on fighting form.

There was quite a buzz within the ICA, and the most in demand person is always mien host, the lovely Mr Tuttle. I was therefore pleased to find the most social, social media man in London, taking some time out for himself on the steps leading down to The Mall as I departed.

He seemed justifiably pleased that another successful morning of Tuttle was coming towards an end. Enabling individuals to share their work and ideas together must be a very rewarding experience. I’ll try not to leave it three months again before I’m next Tuttled over.

Surrey 386, Kent 509-5 (Kent 8pts, Surrey 5pts,) Day 3 of 4.

Staring at Mark Ramprakash’s backside, right up on the boundary #

Lone bare chested bloke at The Oval boozing on the Special Brew. Blimey #

@surreycricket plenty of support for the England save from the sunny Peter May stand. More concerned about Jarsveld running away with it #

Legenary Surrey ace face, Lobby, is on fine form. His booze soaked roar can be heard all around The Oval #

Any side boasting Butcher, Batty, Ramprakash, Collins, Tudor & Gunter should be a half decent championship side. Not down here in S London #

Oh dear – Dr A has dozed off at The Oval. Dark skies now overhead. 338-4 Kent, chasing down Surrey’s 386 #

And with imaculate afternoon Oval timing, it’s the return of the cricket hiccups #

Mr Ramps is either practising his hook shot, or wishing he was teeing off on the 18th. Bit of boundary boredom. 342-4 Kent. C’mon the ‘rrey #

Can’t decide if bloke behind me is dead or made of wax. 357-4 Kent #

Special Brew bloke at The Oval has just waved a soiled pair of White (ish) Y-fronts in the air. No one battered an eyelid. 359-4 Kent #

Tricky session for Surrey coming up. Van Jarsveld looking dangerous for Kent on 74. Dr A has got her work folders out. Disappointing. 414-4 #

Half pints – they’re the unwanted birthday presents of the booze world #

Gunter Nel is not a bad 12th man for Surrey to bring into the field. Game running away though with Kent on 434-4 #

Ton up for Van Jaarsveld. Yet to see him bat a poor innings here at The Oval. Fifth century against the ‘rrey, 446-4 Kent #

Dark clouds descending over The Oval. Reassuring to see Surrey librarian sitting behind us wearing a cardigan #

We’re off for bad light at The Oval. 468-4 Kent. Tough day at office for the ‘rrey. 4 centurians & 2 ducks. Into the Long Room for #ashes #

Back from The Oval. Now then, what’s this #ashes business all about? #