onionbagblog

The team news dropped. Oh dear we appear to be without three established centre halves - which is something of a problem when you’re playing a very rigid system with a refusal to be flexible with your back five.

Oh how we could have done with Morato, albeit the West Ham Morato, who somehow was transformed into a wing back wonder last night.

Out came the teams. I’ve always had a soft spot for Villa. I think it’s a Midlander thing. Plus we are European brothers in that we’ve both lifted the big trophy.

I’m not too up to speed with the Villa of 2026. The best thing I can say about them after today’s performance is that their home kit looked very sexy.

Not so the Forest third kit ripple effort. That’s a jersey that only a hardcore Forest fan could fall in love with.

I said the same thing about the third kit during the Nuno European push season. Our relationships with football jerseys are intrinsically linked to the performance we see whilst they are being worn.

Villa started strongly. Matz Sels, in the middle of our goal, was superb. He certainly kept Forest from falling behind early on and possibly being out of the game.

Villa are also something of a niggly team. We got the first sighting of the Forest Britpop physio this afternoon.

Murillo remains such a worry on the injury front. He’s only one overstretched run away from being a long term injury.

Somehow Forest found their feet and rallied. They had the better of the closing 15 minutes or so of the first half.

I managed to miss Delap’s debut goal. My VPN was playing silly buggers.

Wait. We’re back.

Running the midfield for Forest was Schlager. He was absolutely commanding, with an incredibly industrious performance that I think should edge him ahead of Sangare in future team selections. He has so much energy and also ideas when he’s on the ball.

Meanwhile McAtee was finally looking like the solution we need. As well as possessing the ability to twist and turn whatever way suits the style of play, he has also added a physical element to his game.

Dan Ndoye was also something of a trooper. I had strong Steve Stone vibes from back in the day, watching Dan the Man run around with cotton wool shoved up his nostrils.

The goal did the power good for Delap. He was incredibly powerful and unselfish when needed. He could quite easily have pressed on when he was forced out wide on another occasion, but chose to make the correct pass instead.

1-0 up and the game became very nervy for Forest. We needed to finish them off whilst we were on top. One goal is never enough.

Erm, yep.

Whatever, a score draw away at Villa Park is not to be sniffed at. It looked like The OG felt the same as he brought on Sangare to shut up shop.

Nope. Villa fucked up with their substitutions and played out the final 10 minutes with 10 men.

Attack! Attack!

Attack! Attack! Attack!

Forest finished stronger and were clearly looking for the winner. We owe Villa one after the Europa semi last season.

And then it came. JESUS! He walks on the Trent.

And so our season finally gets going. 2-1 seems like a fair score. This is also the scoreline when it comes to European Cups lifted by both teams.

That’s some record that The OG has got against Villa. I hope we draw them in the FA Cup third round come the start of the year.

Oh yeah, SHOUT OUT to the Forest fans who made the short journey over to the West Midlands. They were magnificent from start to finish.

The film passed me by and so did this album at the time. I’m still not entirely sure what I have just to. At times it felt like the roll call ahead of a circus big top performance. At other times it was almost too meta-French. This is no bad thing. I like a bit of variety in my morning listening habits. This pricked up my interest and was thoughtful. It wouldn’t pass the old grey whistle test but it was a pleasant departure from some of the other music I’ve been listening to of late.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐

I was a layer down in clothing for the autumnal ride on Thursday lunchtime. The weather around the roll out for the Estuary Wilds loop was made for gilets - which was something of a shame as I have become a bit of a gilet ponce in recent years. Any excuse to wear them, but sadly not today.

I was feeling a little tired on two fronts and so decided to take it easy. Yesterday we put in 25,000+ steps, schlepping from East London down to Bankside, across to the West End, and then back over east. This was also my first major physical activity since something of a vaccination spree at the start of the week.

The only eventful thing to happen on this ride was the powerful stench of onions. These appear to be getting stronger and stronger each week. I think most have been picked from around the fields in the lanes. They’re just left there lying now, waiting to be collected.

There’s a metaphor in there for the dying days of the summer.

I approached this with some caution. I’m not really a fan of nu soul: too much vocal gymnastics and not enough, erm, soul in the actual delivery. I was pleased to see that this is only 37 minutes long. That’s pretty much a decent running time for any album.

“Global warming ain’t got nothing on this chick. My summer has gone frigid.”

… ‘aint going to win an Ivor Novello Award anytime soon.

The music is actually the winner: strong Prince vibes - and not just any old Prince vibes but some pre-Purple Rain stuff with some of the slowed down funk on offer here. Still not enough to tip it over the edge for me.

⭐ ⭐

Kevin Ayers and The Whole World’s Shooting at the Moon. He’s a name that I’ve always been familiar with, but not so his music. My endless journey towards being lost in a summer of Prog continues. We may be coming towards the fag end of the summer days but this doesn’t stop my musical time travelling back to the early 70s. I remain convinced I was born in the wrong decade.

There’s something just so innocent about Shooting at the Moon. It’s a bit of a messy album in that there are so many styles and structures taking place. That’s the jazz thing going off, innit. But some of the more considered song pieces really are well crafted and have a very pastoral warm sense that just fits these final days of the summer of 2026. It’s a shame I came to it all more than half a Century too late.

To Tate Modern!

I had half an hour or so to kill on Wednesday afternoon. I was in search of Mr. Rothko. I found Mr. Rothko.

The Seagram Murals are of an immense scale. There’s a very dark mood to them compared to the lighter touches in his other work. I found it all rather calming, such was the vastness of the art in front of me.

Mr. Rothko has been known to make grown men cry. Yep.

To Shakespeare’s Globe! …on Wednesday afternoon.

“Is this Much Ado or As You Like It?”

…asked my theatre companion.

Oh dear.

Two and a half hours later and I still don’t think she knew what she had just seen.

This was something of a slow burner. It started off with half the cast wearing costumes that looked like those old naff toilet roll doll holders that your nan used to have.

SHOUT OUT to the company members who had to spend the first half hour simply holding a pose. It was like watching a game of musical statues.

It all livened up when one of the main young, virile love interests came to life. He ripped off his shirt, showing a pair of pecs that would put my calf muscles to shame. There were a few fainters in the crowd - male as well as female.

The casting was superb. Issues of social class were somehow explored and drawn out of the plot. Orlando in particular, played out his outcast role to perfection. There is no war but the class war, etc.

A subplot was taking place with the scenery. Live art was being created as the plot developed on some large white boards.

This worked out really well during all the All the World’s a Stage speech. The seven stages of humanity were portrayed in artistic form as the trees in the artwork went through their seasonal changes.

The climax, so to speak, got very saucy. The musicians up above were superb, with a Burundi drummer’s beat pounding out the thrust and rhythm to keep up with the plot.

Oh, I think it was As You Like It, luv.

To Four Corners Gallery!

Yoanna Walden was exhibiting in something of a miniature show with a very loose theme of containment and mental health. Cheer up, luv.

I do love these outpost galleries on the eastern edge of the city. It was a right bloody pain in the arse to get to, but just about worth it.

We walked straight into some big pow wow with three curators discussing an opening elsewhere with some grade A artists. They tried not to sniffle at us as we wandered in for a quick shifty.

I’m not quite sure what the point of the exhibition was, but it was visually stimulating all the same. I quite like the way the photographs were framed. I suspect this was part of the overall artistic vision. The medium is the message, etc.

The Orb are one of those artists that I really should listen a lot more to but I never really get round to it. What’s the point? A lot of it all sounds very familiar, but that does them a disservice.

With Oblivion you feel like you’re listening to a mixtape from the mid to late ’90s, which I guess essentially this is what it is - and that’s no bad thing. As ever the album takes you on a journey through the ups and downs, with plenty to explore in between.

It’s music of its period, with a certain amount of post-rave hippy shit thrown in. It’s also highly infectious and another example of the ideal music in which to work along to.

I really should listen to The Orb a lot more, even though I’m only really half listening to them.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐

Gee Vaucher Art Foundation seeks start-up funding

via HNWB

Royal scroungers grab £50 million ‘pay’ rise

via Socialist Worker