Wednesday, May 11, 2005
It's about this time of year I always long for London. As the city heats up and moves into summer, my thoughts return to many hot days spent in the City of London and of the glorious memories they have produced.
Most of my summer jaunts to London have revolved around going to see concerts, though there were some exceptions. Full weekends that revolved around the Madstock festivals are fondly remembered, particularly the time I got into the Riverside Studio's in Hammersmith for the TFI Friday show with Chris Evans the night before Madstock 3.
That was in 96, and in 98 we spent a roasting hot day behaving like lunatics in Finsbury Park. July 99 is full of wonderful memories because it saw my first trip to Camden Town and first visit to the Dublin Castle pub - the Mecca for Madness fans.
May 2002 saw the Golden Jubilee celebrations for Her Majesty, The Queen, which I flew down for with a couple of friends for. Soho never saw the likes, nor did Buckingham Palace and the trip also coincided with a Crunch! gig at the 100 Club on Oxford Street.
Then there was the travelling; flirtatious flights with British Airways airhostesses, drunken bumbling on Virgin Railways and mysterious shenenigans on the overnight Caledonian Express train from Glasgow to London.
There have been so many trips to London and for so many reasons, I have picked only a select few to briefly tell you about. But there is more to going to London to see bands or meet The Queen. I could sit here and say, "It's just so great - there's just something about it," but I won't. Instead, I'm going to tell you, my faithful blogerettes, in the first draft of a spontaneously written poem this very day:
is alive with a million different tales
sliced through in any direction,
every kind of human of inbetween
sexual persuasions to the very extreme.
thrives on energy and motion, jams and crams
it never sleeps, there is always room
to do your thing or find a cause to join,
everyone with a point and pound to lose.
On hot sticky days and cool adrenalin nights
get burnt in a park or hide in the Tube
watch all the people and wonder why
working and living is worth the while.
Where English is not the main language
and Leicester Square is chock-a-block
with tourists and junkies and people like me,
musicians and actors, West End jubilee.
It is what you make it just get up and go,
take a walk by the river and take in the view,
sit in Camden drink out the old,
it's not drowning and it's not dead.
I overheard a conversation in work I'm not sure if I was meant to. It may be that I get my request after all, after hearing of a possible swap with another member of staff who isn't happy with his placement. A direct swap would mean both of us are happy and things may iron out to be okay. We shall see what transpires.
The Edinburgh Evening News ran an article today about next month's Leith Festival. There are some interesting attractions for a writer; poetry slams and other writing events.
The website has been updated with all this years events and I hope to get to some of them, particularly the Scottish Writer's talk with Louise Welch and the poetry slam.
I finished the article on e-book creation over lunch. Now I need to proofread it and find a market.
Back on the subject of George Galloway - friend of Muslims and enemy of Jeremy Paxman - I dug this out from one of the Respect Party campaign newspapers, justifying Galloway's decision to stand as candidate for Bethnal Green and not in his old constituency in Glasgow.
Pointing out that boundary changes meant he would have to contest his old seat in Glasgow with Labour's Mohammed Sarwar, one of the few if not the only Muslim MP in the UK, Galloway said that was "something he was not prepared to do."
Logically, this surely means Mohammed Sarwar's religion is relevant, but Oona King's race is not. The fact that Galloway wouldn't have stood a chance in Glasgow was of course not mentioned.
I re-wrote the e-book article down to 1500 words max after finding a possible market for it. I'll read through it again tomorrow and submit tomorrow evening. I tried to write issue 75 of Hunting Jack but hit a wall. I need a location suitable the events and the background to the story. It needs to have been available in 1995 and have an aura about it suitable for tension and the drama that is to unfold there.
Until I figure out where the final scene is to be played I can't go on. Tomorrow, I will search until I do.
Love the poem and how cool is the ability to change your blog to a different language? Superb!
I still treasure an old paperback I have of his poetry. Hmmmmmmm