onionbagblog

Hundreds of families could soon be running their estate after homes saved from demolition

““Residents have at best been treated as a problem to be dealt with, not as individuals to be engaged with. We fought for the right to retain the roofs over our heads, and to prevent the social cleansing of our corner of SW2. We decided to resist, to fight back, as did our brothers and sisters on Central Hill and the other threatened estates.”

via the new South London Express - worth a follow.

“Perhaps more immediately painful as the weather turns is the knowledge that gas from Jackdaw will do sweet FA to bring down energy bills at home, according to most analysts. However, it is a big win for owner and operator Adura, a joint venture between fossil fuel giant Shell and Norwegian firm Equinox, so I guess we can all be pleased for their shareholders.”

via Novara

“I loved the term Big Undo so much, of course I had to get the domain. I started putting up my usual placeholder site but realized I should do this page in Markdown, not HTML. It looks fabulous. Markdown is right. It’s sobriety, go back to the beginning and put the potency in the ideas, give writers the space to write. Get the F out of my way with your freaky character limits. Anyway I’m full of manifesto these days. The money people strangled the web. I think it’s time for the creative people to make it work for real”

Tell It Like It Is

via Dave Winer

‘In his thorough research, Gall reminds us of the band’s refusal to get involved in Billy Bragg’s Red Wedge project. Despite its political idealism, Red Wedge was, nevertheless, an unsuccessful attempt to turn Britain’s youth culture towards supporting the Labour Party and its diluted form of social democracy.”

Socialist Worker on the new Redskins bio

Probably the BEST name in folk history. Shame about the music, mind. Twee as fuck.

⭐

Not the best Richard Thompson album but then that’s some back catalogue and a very high bar that has been set. This feels like the record company was trying to push him onto an American audience. It’s very polished - almost too polished. Thompson is at his best when he’s stripped back and is writing and playing songs for himself rather than a perceived audience. That said, I Feel So Good is an FM classic that gets your toe tapping. It’s good to see that he’s let slip in the past decade or so and reverted back to pleasing himself and not chasing a new audience.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐

Not the best Richard Thompson album but then that’s some back catalogue and a very high bar that has been set. This feels like the record company was trying to push him onto an American audience. It’s very polished - almost too polished. Thompson is at his best when he’s stripped back and is writing and playing songs for himself rather than a perceived audience. That said, I Feel So Good is an FM classic that gets your toe tapping. It’s good to see that he’s let slip in the past decade or so and reverted back to pleasing himself and not chasing a new audience.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐

To the Conga! …on Sunday evening for the October session for the Wivenhoe Music Mix. GOOD EVENING, WIVENHOE! I’m Jana Varga!

Except the welcome introduction wasn’t quite as bombastic for what was a very intimate and stripped down performance from the Slovakian singer songwriter.

This was a new artist for me. Joining Jana on stage was Sam Watts, playing the piano.

Jana’s voice was exquisite from start to finish. She managed to hold the room throughout with her range of original material and a few covers slipped in.

Some Carly Simon was included, but such was the quality of her own songs that it wasn’t always possible to distinguish between the two until she let it slip.

It wasn’t just the music that worked well. Jana is a great storyteller. She managed to weave a narrative that runs throughout her own songs to create a strong connection with the audience.

There was also a great professional chemistry between her and Sam on the piano. We even got to have a little bit of flute action towards the end when Jana put down her acoustic guitar and worked her magic.

This was something of a departure from the usual Wivenhoe Music Mix Sunday night sessions. We’re used to a full on jazz assault that blows away any thoughts of Sunday night blues ahead of the week ahead.

Sometimes you need something a little more thoughtful from a very powerful singer who won over many new friends on Sunday evening.

The plan was for a Cycle UK big old bicycle ride on Sunday. Storm Boele decided to interfere. Whatever.

I didn’t fancy pushing the pedals for 75 km, not even with a Raleigh Electric.

No worries, let’s go for a walk instead.

There were no great changes. It was the usual: down to the front along the estuary, reach the Creek, and then backtrack through Alresford. It’s a very convenient and Strava pleasing 9 km door to door.

I reached the Quay. Woh, it was bloody choppy down there. The Harker’s Yard race day over at Ardleigh had already long since been cancelled because of Boele.

I was PONCEING it around wearing an extremely fetching G Force knitted beanie. It’s quite a loose fit and doesn’t hug your head. I had to sacrifice fashion for practicalities. No one wants a ponceified G Force piece of elite knitwear being washed up into the estuary.

The bright conditions overhead were a welcome return after the bloody depressing downpour of yesterday. I can take a little bit of wind if it means there are Estuary Wilds sun rays to soak up.

I reached the Sailing Club and had a brief shifty to make sure the kayaks were still there. Yep, all present and correct. The wind was blowing around the most pleasant aroma of yacht varnish. Yep, it’s that time in the season again.

I walked along the riverbank and out towards the estuary. It was pretty deserted. SHOUT OUT to the three cyclists who really shouldn’t be cycling along here, especially the cargo bike rider who had the most unsuitable choice of wheels for this territory.

I reached a wooded area ahead of the Creek. I was pleased to be wearing wellies. It was pretty hard work, pounding up and down, wearing thick green rubber on my feet.

Alresford was a little dull but functional. It managed to provide the Strava OCD-pleasing 9 km circular walking route.

I celebrated by wearing my ponceified G Force piece of elite knitwear indoors for the rest of the afternoon.

To the University! ..on Friday morning for something of a double header. We were booked in first for table tennis and then badminton.

Blimey.

We made our way through to the squash court to play table tennis, which added in a further racket sport complication.

In the main sports hall it looked like some workshop was taking place for juggling. Oh gosh. Rewind 36 years ago and this is one of the societies on campus that I helped to set up.

Still got it, Jase. Still got it.

We arrived at the squash court to find our table wasn’t set up. No worries, a bit of DIY action and soon we were good to go.

It was around about this time when I first noticed I had some pretty bad body odour.

Oh dear.

I’m usually fastidiously clean. I had showered in the morning and I put on a fresh sports top but that’s where it all falls down. I think my cheapo cheapo Lidl sports tops now reeks of sweat so much that it’s impossible to wash any of it out.

I was reminded that our very first date in the same location 36 years ago also involved body odour. That’s me, not her.

Keeping up with the fashion stakes was my playing partner, who was wearing a korfball top. I have absolutely no idea.

The warm-ups followed: forehand to forehand, then backhand to backhand. We’re getting quite some speed and rhythm going with these. We then went straight into the game.

Nothing was working for me. I got very angry.

Even though we were playing in a squash court, some of my shots were rebounding off the walls rather than hitting the table.

“We’re not playing squash you know.”

Remarked my playing partner. Cheers for that, luv.

I was 8-2 down when we got booted off by some squash boys who looked the real business. It was probably for the best.

We made the short transition over to the Essex Sports Arena for our badminton court booking. The Rebels Volleyball Women’s team were setting up for what looked like a pretty hardcore training session.

And so, table tennis to badminton. Much like drink, you should never mix your racket sports.

Chin chin.

It’s been about a year or so since we played badminton. It showed with our early shots I’d forgotten that you can’t really spin a shuttlecock.

We spent half an hour or so doing mainly warm-up practises: the usual forehand to forehand, backhand to backhand, as well as setting up some smash shots.

We then entered into a game situation. We had to consult my friend ChatGPT for the precise scoring sequence for badminton.

We managed to get through to 1 game all. This was time to call it quits.

There was some serious WHOOPING coming from the volleyball women. I think they were having more fun than I was.

Pedal to the Metal: envisioning how Notts could be transformed via sustainable transport

via Left Lion

Burnham blocks Corbyn’s demand for public inquiry into Britain’s role in Gaza

via Morning Star

The best jazz is always live jazz. This is no exception. She’s got a remarkable vocal delivery. You have to be in the right mood for this. Some of the freestyle scatting did grate at times. I prefered some of the sections where there were no vocals. Apologies, Betty, but still a welcome listen as I continue my slide towards midlife jazz vibes.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐

The weather was too good to resist on Thursday afternoon for another bicycle ride. There were bright blue skies up above and lingering in the back of my mind was the fear of the beastliness that I knew was to come in less than 24 hours' time.

I rolled out on the Raleigh Electric. Within the first ten minutes I had experienced two close pass incidents.

I reached Ainger’s Green. The crappy St George’s flags are still flying from the lamp posts, albeit now having slipped down to half mast.

Close passes and crappy flags. I sometimes wonder, why do I bother with bicycle rides when there’s plenty to annoy me?

Then I reach the lanes. Oh woh. These were bone dry and completely empty of all traffic. I almost picked up something of a late October suntan with the glorious conditions.

Not a lot changes around these parts. The wind turbines continue to turn. I had headwind, then tailwind, and then a little crosswind to contend with. I spent a lot of the ride in tour mode.

I passed a particularly stunning house that I’ve always had my eye on. It’s now got a for sale sign. It’s been beautifully refurbished but it’s in a crap location. Oh well.

Around 30 km in I started to get some cycling hippy shit in my mind. I figured out that the cadence, as I turn the pedals, also turns the clogs in my mind. I can be very creative when I’m cycling.

There you go again. Stop being a fucking peddling hippy.

Some new infrastructure was in place on the main Clacton Road that is usually quite hellish to ride upon. My loop route involves around ten minutes or so along this road before you head for the safety of the lanes once again.

The new infrastructure meant there was a one way system with a couple of sets of traffic lights. This led to a slightly better journey.

I then reached my favourite spot on the entire ride. The road is incredibly smooth as you enter into a valley that curves around, showing some amazing vistas up ahead. One of these included a pumpkin patch. They look like tiny satsumas in a field from a distance.

I managed to fit in a Lidl run on the way back. That’s always a bonus.

That’s one more ride ticked off before the next storm approaches.