Well, the troubled year of 2011 is over, and readers will have observed the sparsity of contributions on this particular blogpage. Not that anything hasn't been happening: far from it, in fact. The egregious VAF has finally opened (and is fulfilling its function to the art community if not necessarily the local one), Nick Clegg has at least shown some backbone in standing up to David Cameron in the European financial crisis, and the Olympics are just around the corner in Britain, which are greedily taking place for the third time in London.
Also in the approaching four years since I started jotting this blogpage, a new animal has gradually grown and grown, in the shape of Twitter and the increasing promotion of social networks. These two - Twitter and Facebook - in particular have shown their dark side: not only do they tinker with people's personal information, but the contributions themselves have almost started wars. Where once the thought at the back of someone's mind usually stayed there, or the occasional impulsive comment came and went, now they are on display for millions to see - anywhere around the world.
As indeed is this blogpage - for those who happen to find it. With that in mind, it's been a tricky dilemma wondering which of them to cut back on - social networks or blogs - in this age of austerity. Axing this page is a sensible temptation, but this was always meant to be for those occasional afterthoughts (and thought is the word) and incidental observations. So we'll see.
Good riddance 2011. Happy Olympic Year.
Thursday, 29 December 2011
Sunday, 11 September 2011
Tuesday 11th September 2001
Woke early at 7.30 this morning, and tried to get on with some work at home in the limited amount of time I had before going to work this morning, as well as going to a quiz later this evening. Just Dad and myself [among my family] at work today, with Catherine taking part in some TV recordings for Patrick McCarthy and company, to be shown over four separate Sundays next month.
The work was running out today, except for yours truly or Martin Pudney. This was convenient as today was my last day of the week anyway, prior to travelling to Scarborough tomorrow. Went for a quick walk to loosen some of my joints at 12.45, feeling a little stiff either from trying to overcompensate for my lack of rest, or through simple over-exertion of my limbs at a computer terminal.
Mum telephoned the office in a rather fraught state of mind later this afternoon, to tell me that two airliners had been hijacked by terrorists and flown into the World Trade Center, with the second of the two towers collapsing (as had the first already) whilst Mum was speaking to me over the phone. Soon the news was common knowledge all around the office, and indeed anywhere one dared to speak today. It later transpired that four planes had been hijacked (possibly even five), another of which had crashed into the Pentagon at Washington D.C. Whatever the outcome of all this, I tried to keep a slightly distant view of it all, as I was far too busy with other things to be sidetracked by such tragic events.
Left work briskly as planned at 5.00, and decided to walk up Hythe Hill towards Jessops to collect my recent photos, and just got there in time once again. Saved my money by not having any dinner in town, and went straight home to cook a steak & mushroom pie together with some "Micro Chips" this evening, before having a bath in the time I had left before this evening's quiz at the Wivern Club. The rest of the family of course had spaghetti.
Scarborough - September 2001
Outside Ground Zero in 2011
The work was running out today, except for yours truly or Martin Pudney. This was convenient as today was my last day of the week anyway, prior to travelling to Scarborough tomorrow. Went for a quick walk to loosen some of my joints at 12.45, feeling a little stiff either from trying to overcompensate for my lack of rest, or through simple over-exertion of my limbs at a computer terminal.
Mum telephoned the office in a rather fraught state of mind later this afternoon, to tell me that two airliners had been hijacked by terrorists and flown into the World Trade Center, with the second of the two towers collapsing (as had the first already) whilst Mum was speaking to me over the phone. Soon the news was common knowledge all around the office, and indeed anywhere one dared to speak today. It later transpired that four planes had been hijacked (possibly even five), another of which had crashed into the Pentagon at Washington D.C. Whatever the outcome of all this, I tried to keep a slightly distant view of it all, as I was far too busy with other things to be sidetracked by such tragic events.
Left work briskly as planned at 5.00, and decided to walk up Hythe Hill towards Jessops to collect my recent photos, and just got there in time once again. Saved my money by not having any dinner in town, and went straight home to cook a steak & mushroom pie together with some "Micro Chips" this evening, before having a bath in the time I had left before this evening's quiz at the Wivern Club. The rest of the family of course had spaghetti.
Took a 66 bus with Mum and Dad once again, meeting Mick Emmerson at around 7.45. We arrived at the quiz quite early, but nonetheless found ourselves saddled at the back of the lounge in a rather difficult location with a lot of chatter muffling out the sound of the quizmaster. We finished 9th on the night (penultimate in effect), with 75 points, and then headed straight for home because Dad and I need our sleep, such as we were able to get tonight. The events of today gradually seeped through to me when I watched Newsnight and saw for the first time the airliners crashing into the World Trade Center, the pinnacle of New York's business community, crumbling. It looked like the biggest atrocity, outside of war, that had ever been committed.
Scarborough - September 2001
Outside Ground Zero in 2011Friday, 9 September 2011
NY Diary: Day 3
Sunday 20th March
Slept better during the night, with no noisy pipes giving me trouble this time, and was able to wake at 6.45 to relax and chill-out before get-up time at 7.30 – something I was to regret later on.
Deo Gratias however to the bus driver and the E Line Subway, for though my likely assumption was that I had missed the Liberty Cruise, I was going to take it as far as I could and try to see what the options for an exchange or a refund were.
Further delays were to compound matters with a suspect package (ie. unattended) inside the monument, during which time however I enjoyed the clear afternoon sunshine and started chatting with some others in the line, who were three generations of a Texas family together with their friend over from Italy (above). Not surprisingly they were freaked out by my English accent – "British Guy" the younger ones called me whenever we saw each other from one side of the mighty pedestal to the other.
The climb to the top of the 275 steps (designed by – Gustav Eiffel, no less) was confining and extremely pulsating. My knees gradually quivered at the prospect, and I was still feeling a wobbling sensation from the ride on the ferry, but made it to the top. The Crown was smaller and more cramped than I was expecting – I bumped my head against the roof on a couple of occasions. I asked a Chinese tourist and the Monument guide to take a picture of me at the window (left), and then having milked my moment up close and personal, headed back down the narrow spiral stairs down to the pedestal – built at great opulence by the US Government in 1884, and gloriously constructed by the French who sailed the statue across the Atlantic to be 'bolted' (literally) on top – I had seen the replica prototype before in Paris on the River Seine.
As I made my way down from one level to the other down the star-shaped pedestal, I got a sense of what made America great: not just the outstanding craftsmanship of the Statue, but also the same exhilaration that Apollo astronauts felt when they looked away from the Moon and back at Earth, to see what a wonderful thing their land was.
Once I’d finally given up with my ramblings around the city, I jumped onto the Subway back from Brooklyn Bridge, then the Long Island train back to Jamaica and Queens Village. In the absence of anywhere else that I could eat, I tried 'Popeye’s Chicken and Biscuits' (or 'scones' as we'd call the latter), an unexpected novelty, with macaroni cheese as a side dish with some chicken strips of varying chunkiness, before I was eventually able to get into a bath and prepare for the Transatlantic journey home tomorrow. If life truly begins at forty, then this last weekend has been one hell of a pleasant introduction.
Sunset in Central Park
Slept better during the night, with no noisy pipes giving me trouble this time, and was able to wake at 6.45 to relax and chill-out before get-up time at 7.30 – something I was to regret later on.
Took breakfast shortly after 8.00 – much the same as yesterday’s, plus some easy-spread American cream cheese. I used the hotel’s Internet terminal to email some photos to the folks back in the UK, but spent too long, so when I checked the times of trains from Queens Village, I realised that I had just missed the 8.42 - the next one (in an hour’s time) would be too late for me to visit the Statue of Liberty.
Deo Gratias however to the bus driver and the E Line Subway, for though my likely assumption was that I had missed the Liberty Cruise, I was going to take it as far as I could and try to see what the options for an exchange or a refund were.
As it happened, I arrived at Castle Clinton at a time nearer 11.00 than 10, but the clerk saw that I was a prepaid customer, and booked me for the 11.30 ferry instead, so all was well.
Further delays were to compound matters with a suspect package (ie. unattended) inside the monument, during which time however I enjoyed the clear afternoon sunshine and started chatting with some others in the line, who were three generations of a Texas family together with their friend over from Italy (above). Not surprisingly they were freaked out by my English accent – "British Guy" the younger ones called me whenever we saw each other from one side of the mighty pedestal to the other.
The climb to the top of the 275 steps (designed by – Gustav Eiffel, no less) was confining and extremely pulsating. My knees gradually quivered at the prospect, and I was still feeling a wobbling sensation from the ride on the ferry, but made it to the top. The Crown was smaller and more cramped than I was expecting – I bumped my head against the roof on a couple of occasions. I asked a Chinese tourist and the Monument guide to take a picture of me at the window (left), and then having milked my moment up close and personal, headed back down the narrow spiral stairs down to the pedestal – built at great opulence by the US Government in 1884, and gloriously constructed by the French who sailed the statue across the Atlantic to be 'bolted' (literally) on top – I had seen the replica prototype before in Paris on the River Seine.As I made my way down from one level to the other down the star-shaped pedestal, I got a sense of what made America great: not just the outstanding craftsmanship of the Statue, but also the same exhilaration that Apollo astronauts felt when they looked away from the Moon and back at Earth, to see what a wonderful thing their land was.
I skipped onto the returning ferry at 1.55 which as an added bonus stopped at Ellis Island. I couldn't resist the urge as it was snack time to have a hot dog and a Pepsi in the balmy breezy brilliance of the Hudson and East Rivers. I feel like an American now.
Grateful thanks are also due to the staff at Radio City Music Hall, once I arrived there a little after 3.00. “Are you Joseph Sales?”, asked Emily the attendant when I wandered into the foyer – I must admit I was surprised to be referred personally by name in such a gigantic venue as this. As with the Louis Armstrong House yesterday, the organisers were very accommodating in allowing me to come into the tour a few minutes in. Yesterday I was not allowed to touch most of the lovingly preserved original 1970’s features of the Sachmo House; today I was afraid to touch anything (but also perfectly able to) in this incredible theatre, at the time of its completion in 1932 the biggest cinema in the world, and still one of the largest theatre venues globally. Even the Men’s Rooms looked lavish and opulent, which we were also allowed to use (although in such a theatre of my dreams the idea of the call of nature was about the last thought in my head.)
Also as an added bonus we had one of the renowned Radio City 'Rockettes' (Lindsay Howe) made a personal appearance and spoke a few words about her career and the development of the dancers, and then posed for photos with some of the guests, including yours truly feeling rather vain and indulgent; perhaps I’ve come over all Anglo-American today.
With the rest of the day free to do as I pleased, I marked out the places I had been unable to visit so far, which included St. Patrick's Cathedral, Central Park, the Plaza Hotel, and as I happened to be passing it, Tiffany’s department store (as immortalized by the Audrey Hepburn film taking Breakfast there.)Once I’d finally given up with my ramblings around the city, I jumped onto the Subway back from Brooklyn Bridge, then the Long Island train back to Jamaica and Queens Village. In the absence of anywhere else that I could eat, I tried 'Popeye’s Chicken and Biscuits' (or 'scones' as we'd call the latter), an unexpected novelty, with macaroni cheese as a side dish with some chicken strips of varying chunkiness, before I was eventually able to get into a bath and prepare for the Transatlantic journey home tomorrow. If life truly begins at forty, then this last weekend has been one hell of a pleasant introduction.
Sunset in Central Park
Thursday, 8 September 2011
Manhattan Diary
Friday 18th March2011
Woke at an ungodly hour of 3.30 (as planned) and phoned Dad at 4am to confirm that I was awake, although I only caught the most fleeting glimpse of he and Mum when I boarded the 4.43 from Platform 6 at Colchester North Station. I was glad of the advance preparation, as physically this early in the day in miserable, expensive England, I just felt akin to moving one foot in front of the other, my senses not my own.
Arrived in London Liverpool Street after a short wait at the signals ("on time" the driver said), and then headed on through my favourite city, towards arguably the greatest city in the world, by taking the Piccadilly Line from Holburn all the way to Heathrow Terminal 3.
All seemed to go well, although it was already past 7.30, but with the obliging help of American Airlines the luggage door was reopened for me, and I zipped along the travelators to Gate 13(!), with all the other Economy passengers.
Reset my watch to American Time, and therefore the Boeing 777 was underway at the same time I'd left North Station – 4.43. It was a hazy afternoon at JFK when eight hours later I stepped on US soil for the first time (technically my first outing on US territory was at the Kennedy Memorial at Runnymede.)
It’s funny how your preconceptions are built up about a place: from what I imagined of Manhattan as a vast sprawling metropolis, the reality was actually a little different, certainly from what I observed when I took the Long Island train to Penn Station, with lots of small single floor houses in the more run-down parts of Queens - until the two most famous gleaming towers (the beautiful Chrysler and the Empire State) came into view. In a way it reminded me of the approach to Liverpool Street - London is likewise becoming more and more Manhattan nowadays.
Reset my watch to American Time, and therefore the Boeing 777 was underway at the same time I'd left North Station – 4.43. It was a hazy afternoon at JFK when eight hours later I stepped on US soil for the first time (technically my first outing on US territory was at the Kennedy Memorial at Runnymede.)
I visited Ground Zero itself much later as darkness was setting in, and also made pledge to visit a McDonald’s at 160 Broadway nearby - that I remembered seeing standing in dust-filled defiance of Al Qaeda on September 11th.
With the next train back to my hotel in Queens Village not due until 9.42, I had time over to go the whole hog down Broadway towards Battery Park, and caught my first glimpse of the Statue of Liberty this evening.
NY Diary: Day 2
Saturday 19th March
In the city that doesn't sleep, I too had my troubles sleeping overnight as I turned 40 -not for that reason, but for the incessant noise created by the pipes in the room next door from about 3am onwards. The radio (WHPC) turned on to more news of Colonel Gaddafi, to whom President Obama is laying down ultimatums, and the still horrible situation in Japan.
Breakfast consis
ted of some bread (or bagels), self-toasted, "Frosted Flakes" (Frosties) and some decaffeinated coffee, and I took whatever extras that I could as a bonus, while a chilly wind blew in through the lobby doors this morning, on an otherwise sunny start to the day. Checked the timetable and took the 9.42 train from Queens Village into Penn (short for Pennsylvania) and on this sunny, brisk morning I made my way first of all towards the Empire State Building, a building in every sense, and not just a tower, with some nice restaurants and shops on the ground, and though I decried yesterday the comparative merits of the art deco Chrysler building, the Empire State is also a glorious affirmation of that era, dripping with art deco in almost every corridor leading up to the Observation Towers on the 8th and 102nd floors.
Travelled on one of the fastest elevators that I'm ever likely to, which belted up the first 80 floors, and then interchanged onto another lift which took visitors up to the first of the two viewing areas: an outdoor one, and predictably full with Saturday tourists (yours truly included). My problem was not getting to the top of the Empire State Building, but rather the lengthier proposition of getting down again, through all the advancing crowds of other rising visitors.
As an afterthought, I didn't find the Empire State Building vertigo-inducing. I took a look up when I finally reached the bottom again, and had no difficulties, nor did the tiny specks of people and vehicles seen down below seem too giddying. Maybe we are becoming hardened by such spectacle nowadays. A unique experience, all the same.
Remembered that I'd wanted to visit the New York Library on the map, just a short distance away along Fifth Avenue, Steven Schwarzman's glorious building supported by J.J.Astor, which I found as impressive and palatial to visit as the Musikverein in Vienna. What I didn't realise was how beautiful the roof mosaics were in both the North and South Hall reading rooms.
If New York Library took my breath away, then so too did Grand Central Terminal, a glorious palace of a railway station, perhaps my favourite now over dear old Liverpool Street and Paddington. My plans to visit Central Park, St. Patrick's Cathedral and the Plaza Hotel had to be postponed this afternoon, so that I could go to the Louis Armstrong House way up in Corona. It was a delight, a pleasant diversion from Manhattan, and although I had already arrived after the start of the last tour of the day, the staff couldn't have been more helpful and I was given a discounted ticket half-way through. Thus I was able to see where old "Sachmo" sat with his glorious"den" of a study of gifts, articles and reel-to-reel tape recordings, and also the bedroom where he died, in the year of the moment for this occasion, 1971.
Returned to Manhattan before sunset, and found the New York Daily News, (as used in the film Superman) and almost hidden away on Roosevelt Avenue, beside the East River and stashed away like another city block, was the United Nations. Extraordinary to think that this little area governs (technically) the world police who should be the ones to decide how we intervene in Iraq, Iran - and now evidently, Libya - and yet is tucked away in the lap of America – the geographical and political metaphor is appropriate.
It's been an intense, tiring but rewarding and unique 40th birthday, but the best may still be yet to come.
In the city that doesn't sleep, I too had my troubles sleeping overnight as I turned 40 -not for that reason, but for the incessant noise created by the pipes in the room next door from about 3am onwards. The radio (WHPC) turned on to more news of Colonel Gaddafi, to whom President Obama is laying down ultimatums, and the still horrible situation in Japan.
Breakfast consis
ted of some bread (or bagels), self-toasted, "Frosted Flakes" (Frosties) and some decaffeinated coffee, and I took whatever extras that I could as a bonus, while a chilly wind blew in through the lobby doors this morning, on an otherwise sunny start to the day. Checked the timetable and took the 9.42 train from Queens Village into Penn (short for Pennsylvania) and on this sunny, brisk morning I made my way first of all towards the Empire State Building, a building in every sense, and not just a tower, with some nice restaurants and shops on the ground, and though I decried yesterday the comparative merits of the art deco Chrysler building, the Empire State is also a glorious affirmation of that era, dripping with art deco in almost every corridor leading up to the Observation Towers on the 8th and 102nd floors.
Travelled on one of the fastest elevators that I'm ever likely to, which belted up the first 80 floors, and then interchanged onto another lift which took visitors up to the first of the two viewing areas: an outdoor one, and predictably full with Saturday tourists (yours truly included). My problem was not getting to the top of the Empire State Building, but rather the lengthier proposition of getting down again, through all the advancing crowds of other rising visitors.As an afterthought, I didn't find the Empire State Building vertigo-inducing. I took a look up when I finally reached the bottom again, and had no difficulties, nor did the tiny specks of people and vehicles seen down below seem too giddying. Maybe we are becoming hardened by such spectacle nowadays. A unique experience, all the same.
Remembered that I'd wanted to visit the New York Library on the map, just a short distance away along Fifth Avenue, Steven Schwarzman's glorious building supported by J.J.Astor, which I found as impressive and palatial to visit as the Musikverein in Vienna. What I didn't realise was how beautiful the roof mosaics were in both the North and South Hall reading rooms.
Returned to Manhattan before sunset, and found the New York Daily News, (as used in the film Superman) and almost hidden away on Roosevelt Avenue, beside the East River and stashed away like another city block, was the United Nations. Extraordinary to think that this little area governs (technically) the world police who should be the ones to decide how we intervene in Iraq, Iran - and now evidently, Libya - and yet is tucked away in the lap of America – the geographical and political metaphor is appropriate.
It's been an intense, tiring but rewarding and unique 40th birthday, but the best may still be yet to come.
Wednesday, 7 September 2011
Good Things 22
Vaccuum flasks
So good for saving from constantly buying coffee, and great for days out. Mmmmmm.
So good for saving from constantly buying coffee, and great for days out. Mmmmmm.
Wednesday, 10 August 2011
The wrong kind of policing
The area of Colchester has been mercifully free so far of any civil unrest that has ravaged so much across Britain's inner cities these last few days. It seems that the most volatile areas are those where the policing is sadly at its most liberal or at its most under-funded, whereas in Colchester - an area not unfamiliar with rowdy, chavvish behaviour - any reciprocal violence in response to any other acts of vandalism has been quietly kept in check.
For those removed from the danger, it seems exaggerated and aloof. For those in the midst of the terror, the sense of insecurity is palpable. All one can do is carry on going about one's normal lives. Carefully.
For those removed from the danger, it seems exaggerated and aloof. For those in the midst of the terror, the sense of insecurity is palpable. All one can do is carry on going about one's normal lives. Carefully.
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