onionbagblog

This is completely new on me. I rather liked it. Inoffensive, sweet, soulful. Disco folk? Possibly. It’s music for middle aged arses like me, who still want to dance, but don’t want a bloody racket messing up my morning.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

#lolspurs

A brief walk around these Sunny Stockwell parts, mainly with various errands, but also partly emotional. Some things always come to an end, Comrades.

It was something of a comical walk as well. I closed the flat door behind me, and then ARSE. My bloody keys were inside the flat. I was suppose to be handing over the keys to a random. So I carried on to see the bloke who was expecting them, only to ask for his set instead. Perfect.

Life, etc.

Hey hoe. It all meant a few backwards and forwards around the Stockwell, Oval and Kennington Triangle. Have legs, have iPhone camera, will travel etc.

Not a lot has changed, yet everything has changed. Maybe not physically, but certainly within. You’ll miss it when it’s gone - although I have a suspicion it’s not quite going for me, not yet.

Later in the day I was cycling through Elephant for the first time in a few months. Woh. Now there’s a neighbourhood that has changed since I last passed through. The development above the station looks pretty much finished. The old Faraday substation has been dwarfed.

Always on the move.

I thought the band name sounded vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it. A little online digging and oh - it’s them, that lot from Leicester. I was on the fringes of this scene when I rocked up in the City of Death late ‘93. I must have seen Prolapse at The Charlotte, and probably heard some of the singles. But they didn’t leave a mark on me, thirty odd years later. I have no memory of this music. The Italian Flag was unfamiliar. It filled a gap on a working morning. But I have no interest in returning to this scene, let alone the City of Death.

⭐ ⭐

“This is difficult to explain and justify to those unfamiliar with what a Taiwo Awoniyi is. But trust us on this. Taiwo goals mean more. There is no equation, algorithm, or numbers to prove this: it just is.”

via the always excellent David Marples

There’s a fresh energy to this album, mixed in with an innocence and a sense of fragility. Bollocks. That sounds wanky. How a bloody good mix of electronic music that actually has a soul to it? I could imagine myself dancing to this naked at an end of the Century rave on an iceberg. Now there’s an image. Lovely music.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

#lolspurs away, pyrotechnics for the home team’s arrival - what’s wrong with players driving themselves to the ground? - and both teams still in deep, deep shit. I didn’t buy into the pre-match narrative of win - stay up, lose and the Championship awaits. But still.

The game kicked off as though it was a local derby. Christ, that was intense. Just imagine what Captain Chaos Taiwo could do in such situations. I don’t want to talk about relegation, but what a weapon T would be in the division below.

Spurs are a nasty, petulant bunch of whingeing pros. Their game tactics seemed to be to play for a penalty each time they entered the opposition’s box. It was embarrassing. They deserve to be relegated, along with their Fancy Dan supporters.

First blood went to Forest. Jesus Christ etc. It was a fantastic header from Igor. Vitor mentioned in his post-match BBC interview that they had been working on this since arriving back from Denmark. Jesus may have a crappy goal celebration, but I’d like to see it a lot more of this during the run in.

The #lolspurs crowd started to turn early in the second half. The Forest fans were as fantastic as ever - especially after MGW fired home a second. The hand in the ears celebration is always classy. At the end of the day, we always win, etc.

Oh hang on - here comes Captain Chaos. Taiwo couldn’t, could he? Bloody hell. He somehow got on the end of Neco’s cross and managed to bundle the ball home. His goals are either Goal of the Season contenders, or hit and hope. I’ll take anything right now.

SHOUT OUT to Sels in the middle of our goal. He clearly wanted a clean sheet, even with a 3-0 lead and only minutes remaining. Even a solitary goal would have given Spurs a little extra boost at home as we head into the run in.

And so Forest can’t score goals, right? Erm… With Chris Wood sniffing around after the international break, we might just pull this one off again.

Sacked in the morning, etc.

And yep - I never have forgiven Spurs for the 1991 FA Cup Final.

Another spring Sunday morning, another roll out on the Raleigh electric. There was a bright sun to burn off the overnight Estuary Wilds frost, plus I had some extra energy to release ahead of Forest’s big game away at Spurs later in the afternoon.

It didn’t take long for me to warm up. It wasn’t exactly short sleeves weather, but we’re not far off. You know that you’re entering the cycling season when you pass more and more riders each weekend. SHOUT OUT to the Sunny Colch Cycle UK crowd who I passed just outside of Little Bentley.

My route remains limited - for now. The lane that opens up possibilities of heading over to Lawford, Dedham and beyond remains closed. The bloody Garden Village is going to shit all over this landscape, as well as my own cycling options.

But on Sunday morning, with blue sky, a beautiful Raleigh ride and dry roads, I came up smiling.

The penultimate home court game for the Rebs this season. A strong performance was needed if a push for the play-offs remained realistic. The Essex Sports Arena was lively - especially the army of young ankle biters sitting next to me.

Rebs were short benched, in what looked like a series of badly timed injuries. Mile Brown in particular was a major loss for the home team. Rockets meanwhile were… physical.

This was a bruiser of an away team. But they also had the pace to match the muscle. They moved the ball around the court at speed, with some killer passes from one end of the Arena to the other.

The Rebs MC tried his best to keep the momentum flowing off the court. This led to a ticking off from the referee, after some slightly less than polite applause ahead of a Rockets shot from the free throw line.

Tony Idiata-Mendez had the final say at the end of the first, with a fantastic dunk ahead of the buzzer. SWING that hoop fella. Rebs trailed 25-17.

Rockets pulled away, right from the start of the second quarter. They were lethal on the free throw line. Every shot was sunk. They stretched their lead to 52-38 at HT.

This soon became a tough night on home court for the Rebs. The lead stretched to 76-54 at the end of the third. Buckets rained in for Birmingham. Everything seemed to sink.

The body language dipped a little for the Rebs in the final quarter. There was no way back chasing 20 or so points, and the clock counting down. A difficult night at Our House.

“I don’t follow Forest for the logic of it, I follow them for the magic of it.”

via Forza

“If you have a head for heights, then a job as a crane operator must provide some fascinating views of both construction sites and the wider area, although I would not fancy the climb up the ladders within the central frame to reach the cabin.”

The Garden at 120