onionbagblog

A bit of Thelonious Monk. I think Brilliant Corners is his masterpiece. It appeared in the feed for the Album of the Day a couple of weeks ago. Monk is one of those characters I’ve always been aware of but never really explored. He’s spoken of in rather hushed terms even amongst jazz nerds. Brilliant Corners, for me, was confirmation of why he is so highly respected. There’s a stellar cast as well on this album, including Sonny Rollins. I like the way it moves from bombastic big sounds to something a little more moody. The perfect working soundtrack.

To the Oval! …on Thursday morning for day one of Surrey vs Notts in the County Championship. This game was also deemed the Festival of Red Bull cricket by the club, which basically means a glorified beer festival, along with a cricket car boot sale taking place around the back of the Peter May. I passed on both fronts.

The more interesting action was taking place out in the middle. This was a make or break game for both teams. Surrey have been poor all season. You don’t fight for championships by simply drawing matches.

The narrative from afar has been that Notts have been dominant. My cricketing companion for the day was a Notts fan. It was interesting to hear his perspective, which was rather similar to the Surrey story of 2026. Notts are still within a chance of the title only through drawing matches and picking up bonus points.

ChatGPT had reliably - or perhaps not so reliably - informed me the night before that a late title charge by Surrey is still possible but to achieve that a comprehensive win over Notts was needed. Anything less and we couldn’t be back looking behind our own backsides and staring relegation in the face.

There’s nothing quite like the County Championship, which is just as well, seeing as all the horrid Hundred, crappy banners had been taken down. It was good to see The Oval back in its pretty much purified form, with none of the franchise crap littering around the grand old place.

I approached this game in a rather sober state. I also ended in a rather sober state. I’ve had one too many days out on the piss in the Peter May already so far this season.

My sobriety was made all the better when I was rewarded with some early wickets. The grounds team had prepared a lush green wicket. This was a game for the seamers and no spin it to win in sight.

The weather was always going to have a say in this game. The forecast looked a little dodgy for the first day of play but then set to pick up as we enter the weekend.

No surprises to see an hour or so into the start of the play and the floodlights came on, followed by the inevitable rain. This was a shame as Surrey had picked up the early momentum and looked like doing some serious damage to the Notts weakened attack ahead of the lunch break.

And then whaddyaknow? Lunch was taken in bright sunshine; out came the players briefly for the afternoon session before buggering off back into the hutch as the rain started again. Cricket sometimes does itself no favours.

We had by now shifted from the Peter May over to the Bedsar, which is also known as the No Fun Stand. There’s no official alcohol ban and there’s no official stance on limited conversation, but fuck me - it’s like a bloody morgue up in there.

Not a lot happened when play resumed. This was a very, very cagey period for both teams. Surrey sensed more wickets. Notts were just happy to block, block and then block again.

The highlight for the mid-afternoon session was the skipper taking off his cricketing sun hat to reveal a pretty much shaven head. It was quite a statement from Rory and one hopes one that is not aligned with the Samson and Delilah storyline.

We ended up back where we started for the afternoon session in the Peter May. Dark clouds descended once again over SE11 as Surrey tried to take out the Notts attack within the first day. It got a little bit windy. We made a strategic move down to the lower tier of the Pavilion.

A pleasant half-hour passage of play followed and then the Umps looked at the dark skies and called time out once again.

We retreated to the Surrey store to have a good piss take at some of the Hundred merchandise. There was a rather fetching black Surrey sweatshirt that was new to the range. This was priced competitively at £60. I think the pricing of £40 for a similar MI London piece of tat tells you all you need to know about the price for everything when it comes towards the stupid shitty franchise.

We called time on our pleasant day out and headed out on a brief stroll around our old sunny Stockwell patch.

Later back at base we realised we had missed another half hour of play where Notts annoyingly added on some more runs to reach a total of 184 for the day whilst Surrey lost an early wicket with the Vicar.

Sober Surrey days out at the cricket are decent fun. Who knew?

Chin chin.

Ska punk - two great standalone genres, but also two that should never be forged together. This is bloody horrid. It’s cheap and nasty. I’m surprised I managed to last until the end of track two. I moved to listen to some folk electronica instead. Far more rewarding.

⭐

50 Places in London I Would Like to Live

I’ve always struggled with Kraftwerk. I’m not sure why. I know it’s ultra-cool to like them and almost impossible to criticise them but there’s something of the coldness which leaves me empty. I know that’s the appeal for many. Computerwelt, however, got my attention. It’s a lot more poppy than some of the other landscape barren albums I’ve tried and failed with. I could find myself dancing to this.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐

One of the benefits I have with my lack of podcast listening is catching up on some true gems that are still buried away on my phone.

My podcast listening these days is pretty much dominated by Forest. I thought this would change during pre-season and I could focus elsewhere, but nope. The Forest onslaught of blokes talking to each other when not a lot is really happening is mildly addictive.

I made the brave move today to scroll down a little further beyond Forest. Oh boy, what an absolute BEAUT. I forgot I had these buried away: there’s around half a dozen or so of Andy Kershaw Plays Some Bloody Good Records to catch up with.

I almost didn’t want to dive into these, saving them for as long as I could. They are the true gems in musical podcasting. Sadly we now know that there will be no more to follow.

It’s really quite heartbreaking hearing Kershaw collating his superb musical knowledge alongside his personal stories. The final podcast that I’ve got from this series is June of 2025. He sounded in good health, but didn’t hold back with his own financial situation.

The joy of the music he plays was often balanced very finely against his own personal downfall. I know he’s had his personal troubles, haven’t we all, but he was certainly no failure when it came to continuing what he loved doing, which, as the title of the podcast suggests, is to play some bloody good records.

The format never changes. He plays three songs and then backtracks and tells a little story about them. I doubt anywhere else you’d hear Neil Young going into Prince Far-I and then a recording from his own kitchen table from a northern folk group.

He was also possibly the rudest man in music but that made him all the more appealing. Truly one of a kind and a legend of broadcasting and podcasting. I might hold back on these podcasts and limit myself to perhaps just one per month.

Paul Simon is at his best when he’s stripped back. The title track for Hearts and Bones demonstrates this at its best. He’s a storyteller and not a musician. Putting his vocals front and centre allows you to focus on the stories he’s trying to tell. There’s something really quite sweet about the album. It’s a nice warm up ahead of Graceland and all the experimentation that followed. When it comes down to it he knows how to pen a half decent tune and then to strum you along in a very understated way

⭐ ⭐ ⭐

Battle of Lewisham 1977

via Transpontine

Denmark Hill Station Has Its Own Vineyard

via Londonist

Off grid sauna

I am shit at bikes

via road.cc

What a load of hairy old bollocks. This album was recorded the same year in which the Pistols started to break through. It’s the sound of how and why punk had to happen. The music is so staccato, so soulless, it’s impossible to dance to. It left me feeling very grim.

⭐

To the Sailing Club on Monday evening for the weekly table tennis social.

But wait! What’s this?

It seemed like there was some kind of lockout down at the Sailing Club. The scene resembled a mid-70s industrial strife situation with no entry.

No worries. It was just that our usual holder of the key wasn’t available for this session. A few messages back and forth and soon we had their magic numbers to gain entry to the indoor table of dreams.

The first obstacle to overcome wasn’t any opponent but where to position the table to avoid the scrutiny of the sun. It’s a very delicate - and also moving - situation. It involves a table gradually retreating further and further towards the estuary as the sun sets throughout our session.

I played so so. I had one particularly memorable match with an opponent who I can pretty much match shot for shot. We had some epic rallies and tracked each other’s scores all the way through until I finally got over the line.

GEDDIN

What then followed was the Great Sailing Club table tennis wiff waff bat mix up. One of my opponents realised halfway through that she was using someone else’s bat. That someone else wasn’t around this evening but it seemed that a bat switch had taken place the week before.

What could possibly go wrong?

Some very strict measurement rules were applied. It seemed that the replacement bat was marginally smaller than the usual standard bat we are used to. My opponent cried foul play and attempted to abandon the game through her own lack of equipment planning. I was having none of it, natch.

In it to win it, etc.

Bad light eventually did for us.