onionbagblog

To the Sunny Colch Odeon! …on Monday lunchtime. On my agenda for the Cheap as Chips Monday Grubby Fiver Club was the new Spider-Man movie Brand New Day.

I don’t think I’m really the target audience for any Marvel film. I remember the kids at school being completely engrossed in the Marvel universe in a way that perhaps I thought they might be with Star Wars. Marvel is where all the action is for the cool kids, Natch.

I did try and educate myself ahead of the screening. I noticed that the iPlayer has all nine previous Marvel Spider-Man films available to watch. That’s an awful lot of screen time. I managed to get through the first one before realising that I’ve actually seen it before.

I’m sure I must have missed plenty in films two to eight but I didn’t let this put me off getting in the way of my Monday afternoon booking. My rate of viewing, especially when the football and the cricket seasons are colliding, means that it is unlikely I would get through all the past efforts sometime before Christmas.

I could just about follow the plot. The trick with all of these franchise films is to be accessible at the basic entry level for the likes of me, as well as having plenty of in depth Easter eggs for all the nerds to follow.

It’s a film about a bloke who can spin webs and fly from buildings. That’s about it yeah?

I confess to being rather drawn in and spending another half hour or so back at base, googling all the various characters and how they all fit into the current film. It’s no spoiler alert to say that the Hulk stole the show.

There’s also a fairly deep romantic plot, which I wasn’t expecting.

Brand New Day is supposed to be something of a reboot of the franchise. In the end it felt like it was trying to get all the characters in a place where they feel comfortable ahead of what may come next in the series.

As ever with the Cheap as Chips Monday Grubby Fiver Club, there was some constant chatter from the back row. Four pesky school kids took it upon themselves not only to hold some chat shit conversation, but also to shout out abuse at all the characters.

Thankfully the sound in the Sunny Colch Odeon was pretty deafening and it drowned the dickheads out.

They did join in with a round of applause at the end however. Such communal nonsense is not for me.

A box fresh new pair of Sports Banger trackies as part of the recent adidas collab drop. I don’t think you can actually buy these via House De Bang Bang. For memory there was a limited edition raffle with the winners getting the swag.

The original winner apparently didn’t want the swag. More fool them.

These appeared online at a fairly reasonable price. A little back and forth online bargaining was attempted but I didn’t get anywhere. In the end if you want something then you just go for it.

Having gone through a very tarted up period, maybe around a decade or so ago, I’m very much now a dress down type of guy. I reserve the right for this to all change and to return to my Cravat Ponce period once again.

Trackies seem to be the order of the day, but not any old trackies. I need something with a little bit of style. I do enjoy a good slob around.

I’d forgotten about many of these songs. They formed pretty much the soundtrack to my post-Britpop listening with the Evening Session every night: Pure Morning, You Don’t Care About Us - these are songs that I’m overly familiar with but had instantly forgotten. It’s not that this is a bad album. It’s just that it’s not for me in 2026.

I quite like the punchy nature of it. Placebo always felt like they had a point to prove. The very delicate physical outlook of the band often felt that it needed to be beefed up with the pulsating bass and drums. I have got something of a soft spot for Brian Molko’s whiney voice. I don’t think I need Placebo in my life in 2026 though.

⭐ ⭐

To Rectory Road! …late on Sunday afternoon. Wivenhoe Town Cricket Club were hosting Sudbury in a T30 hit ‘n’ giggle.

Thirty overs is a half-decent format for any competition. Just don’t go telling the ECB. They will invent half a dozen new franchises and sell out the game even further.

It was an odd hybrid of the game. We were playing with a pink ball and luminous wickets, yet both sets of players looked resplendent in their whites.

Other commitments kept me away from the Sudbury innings. They had set a competitive chase of 155 for the home team.

Once again it became clear that this was a mixture of incredibly young players backed up by some older wiser heads. SHOUT OUT in particular to the Sudbury young kid fielding on the boundary. He’s probably back at primary school in a few weeks. He didn’t let himself down, both fielding as well as then turning his arm with some decent spin on offer.

An early drop was a close reprieve for Wivenhoe. I then missed a wicket as I was too busy scrolling on Forest updates and the emotional farewell for Big Taiwo.

Sudbury had an interesting selection of bowlers. One young chap in particular had the shortest of short runs that I’ve ever seen in the game. This seemed to fool the Wivenhoe batters with a well taken catch after a failed sweep shot.

Similar to the other formats at this level, there seems to be much more focus on spin rather than pace. It makes it easier on the eye to try and follow the game.

Another catch followed and early drinks were taken. Wivenhoe were now on 80 for 4 chasing down that 155.

I confess to dozing off as more wickets fell. Each polite applause from the Pavilion was my wake up call to have a bit of a check on the scoreboard.

I could see that with seven overs remaining Wivenhoe needed 36 runs with three wickets in hand. They had timed their run chase to perfection.

It was a little squeaky bum time for the very young kids out in the middle for Wivenhoe. A well-placed boundary was a fitting way for the home team to take the victory.

Another bloody decent afternoon down at Rectory Road.

I think I’ve just about reconnected with all of my existing bicycle ride routes post the great reopening of access to the Tendring Peninsula for me. Boy, I miss riding out around those parts. Being cut off at source, as a link road which leads to nowhere was being built, was no fun.

Sunday lunchtime was the final missing piece in the jigsaw. It’s no great shakes. It’s the old Bobby George BONER route with the added Great Bentley little offshoot circular add-on.

I have been able to ride this route before, but the road closure during all the rebuilding work meant I was forced along a pretty shitty detour that involved cycling a very bumpy, gravelly little path right alongside an A road. No ta.

Sunday was pretty much bliss. To my surprise there were also some wonderful new stretches of tarmac along the roads I have not ridden in over a year. We are talking proper black, deep, thick tarmac here as well.

Essex County Council went through a phase of thinking that road rebuilding meant spreading a layer of glue along the road and then dumping a truck full of shingles all over it.

It didn’t take long, however, for the new tarmac to already have a Stone Roses style paint job along one particular stretch. Someone has had fun with a very large pot of white Deluxe.

The lanes became more enclosed and quieter as the ride progressed. I then realised I was actually riding the Ride of the Falling Leaves, albeit a couple of months too early.

Mother Nature really is fucked.

To Broad Lane! …on Saturday afternoon. Wivenhoe Town FC were at home in the first round of the FA Vase hosting Frenford. The visitors play one step above the Dragons in the non-league pyramid.

This was all set to be a half decent opportunity to see how far the Dragons have progressed as part of the new set up for the 2026 season.

There wasn’t much to report for the first half hour or so. The main talking point was the incredibly tall ref and a couple of rather short wide players starting for Frenford. Talk about knowing your place, etc.

I walked around the ground doing my usual photo walk. Some silly old racist Essex owd boy mumbled out some absolute nonsense rather close to me. I rose above it and didn’t allow this to ruin my afternoon. In retrospect I really should have called him out - or maybe even lamped him.

The lino was much more fun.

“Don’t take my photo! Please don’t take my photo!”

Which actually means, “Oh please do take my photograph and please do pimp it out all over the modern interweb. Thank you very much.”

I didn’t take his photograph.

It looked bloody hard work out there on what was a rock hard pitch. I wouldn’t have fancied playing a full 90 minutes with my knees. Thankfully if it was to be even at full time then we would go straight to pens.

The first half was rather even. I was surprised how well Wivenhoe fared against a team that were clearly a lot more organised, not to mention no doubt better paid.

I had a few conversations during the second half with some familiar faces. Pokey Pokey Guy started speaking to me as well as poking me rather hard.

It was all friendly stuff but I do object when my body space is invaded and a jabbing finger is then inserted into my shoulder to prove a point every 30 seconds or so.

The main talking point is that the old brick wall around all four sides of the ground looks set to be demolished next week. Apparently FA funding of around £50,000 has been secured after the terrible incident that involved the death of a young player last season. This can’t come soon enough. It will certainly transform the look of Broad Lane.

Back on the actual pitch itself Wivenhoe were superb in the second half. They attacked with pace and actually outclassed their opponents from a league above. Two goals were scored in quick succession. They were well deserved.

I turned to my spectating partner, the non-pointing one, and observed that the final 15 minutes would be bloody hard work to defend.

This wasn’t the case. Wivenhoe were strong in defence as well as continuing to attack. A 2-0 victory was the least they deserved.

Well and truly up for the Cup, Comrades.

We had something of an audience for the game of table tennis on Saturday afternoon on the public playing field. A picnic party was taking place under the shade of the nearby tree. It all looked very friendly and we got a few smiles and nods when some killer shots were executed.

I felt a little sorry at first for the army of ants that had taken over the table of dreams. You don’t want to be walking around there in the midday sun just as some fella steps up with his ping-pong ball and is ready to SPLAT you with his four-arm smash.

We were both a little tired to be honest. Some of the shots were quite laboured. I felt rather envious of the picnic party people who had now made the short trip on the other side of the shaded tree to play boules.

Once again the ground around us was rock hard. One particular shot rolled down the hill and didn’t really stop. It was like that crazy cheese chasing contest as my playing partner almost tripped over down the path to try and retrieve it.

Oh yeah I somehow won 3-2.

GEDDIN.

I didn’t quite understand the judging at the Wivenhoe Allotment and Garden Association annual show. Yeah sure, veg is veg, right? Some looked a little fresher than others, but ultimately veg for me is all about necking it and getting energy.

The judges thought a little differently. There was no evidence of the fruit or veg - or even cake - actually being tasted. In fact some of the produce awarded a first in show looked a bit mangy when compared to other entrants.

I would never suggest that there is something slightly slippery taking place with the WAGA judging. Nope.

It was a decent enough show for 2026. A few panic emails had gone out and then run up to it, worrying that not enough allotment holders had entered any of their goods. Guilty as charged.

But wait, what this?

We did get an email stressing the importance of us attending the close of the event as there was possibly a chance our allotment may pick up a prize in the overall category.

Football watching duties kept us away, natch.

There was plenty of tomatoes on show as we made our way up and down the various trestle tables early afternoon. Tomato, tomatoe, etc. I’ve never seen so many varieties.

Cabbages meanwhile, remain the ugly sisters of the allotment world.

Some of the blackberries looked incredibly tempting. They were rather lush and certainly plump. I confess to having a quick shifty to my left and right to see if I could snaffle one.

Spoiler: I’m too much of a good honest citizen for that type of behaviour.

Have access to a road bicycle, will travel. I’m making the most of these dry days when I can be out freewheeling on the roadie. Having been blocked from accessing most of my bicycles since Easter because of scaffolding, now is the time to ride.

Ride to live, live to ride.

The bicycle Brucie bonus is that the gateway from Weird Wiv over into the Tendring peninsula is finally open. The road works and the link road that isn’t a link road are allowing access for cyclists. Just ignore that sign that says CCTV in operation, right.

I headed over on the Lawford route. I’ve not ridden this in over a year. It felt good to be out along some of the extremely remote country lanes on Saturday morning.

I wasn’t alone enjoying the new found road freedom around these parts. The first sighting of fellow cyclists was a magnificent-looking electric tandem.

Chapeau!

I was also experimenting with my own cycling fashion attire. The sun was failing to break through. The meant that I could wear short sleeves and my new Brixton Cycles cycling bib. There was little sun to penetrate through my fresh black ink beautifully painted on my body.

Elsewhere around the lanes there were a few horse riders also enjoying the early morning solitary leisure activity. I made some slow progress as I approached one particular horse who looked a little nervy from behind.

The lush lanes that I’ve not ridden for a year have taken something of a hammering. One particular stretch close to Lawford appears to have seen a wildfire breaking out along a stretch of the ditch. It’s completely gutted and is still smouldering.

I reached Dead Lane. It was as joyless as ever. It’s an essential little link lane which allows me to cut through a housing estate currently being built, and then on to the return leg for the round route.

The onions in the field look dead on their feet - or should that be dead on their roots? They were exposed and already semi-fried, simmering away in their rural setting.

Back at base and Strava says I was a minute off a PB for this route. Not bad considering I’ve not ridden it in over twelve months.

Alabama 3’s Step 13 album. This is the first release without The Good Reverend. It’s something of a sober affair in every respect.

My extreme naivety has led me to overlook the fact that over the years various members of Alabama 3 have had a few issues. The album title of Step 13 is something of a dead giveaway.

I think this completes my current Alabama 3 collection, but you never know. Occasionally the odd bootleg appears online that seems to be endorsed by the band.

There’s still nothing quite like them. They walk it like they talk it up and down Coldharbour Lane. No other band looks or sounds Brixton.

Gawd Bless ‘em.