So I spent yesterday getting in touch with my ‘inner self’. Went to the Global Retreat Centre of the Brahma Kumaris which possibly sounds a lot weirder than it actually was.
The centre is the most amazing 18th century Palladian villa which - given that the organisation is funded entirely by donations - is an incredible feat. The ethos is that volunteers will take better care of a property than ‘paid’ workers and from seeing the theory in action, it’s hard to disagree.
To stick to the physical, our lunch was amazing. At the beginning of the day, we were given a little speech about the ethos of the house and the facts that waste is not tolerated and our lunch would be cooked with love. Well love is very tasty (as was the chickpea soup, super proper chapattis and apple pie).
The meditation was very relaxing and the content was extremely interesting. I think I may have to assimilate it all a little more to really understand and/or decide whether I can really believe it all. Certainly the second session on spirituality freaked me out somewhat but that possibly has something to do with my rather unformed views of life, the universe and everything.
Came away feeling positive and determined to meditate (every day), hmmm…haven’t managed it today which is fairly poor. Need to reschedule and make that extra time in my day which is - in theory - easier because at least it gets light earlier (on dark mornings you have the scenario of 15 extra minutes in bed or dragging your carcass out of the duvet and trying to concentrate on your inner being - guess which one wins?). Well the spirit is willing, I just have to get the flesh co-operating.
So to the material…
Stayed in a really nice hotel last night. No matter what the star rating, it’s the little things in a hotel which make me feel warm and cosy, for example Molton Brown toiletries (always a winner), saying you have forgotten your toothpaste (therefore asking where is the nearest supermarket/chemist?) and being given a little dental kit; cotton wool balls and cotton buds in the bathroom (much under-rated and always appreciated); a free bottle of water (because you know you can’t really drink the water out of the bathroom taps). Just those little things that make you smile (or - if you’re me - make you squeal entirely unnecessarily but quite joyfully). However, on the down side, the room was far too hot which made it stuffy and has not entirely helped ye olde cold.
And then to the realms of ridiculous in the material world. A house two doors down and exactly the same (in terms of layout) to ours has just been put up for sale for the most ridiculous amount of cash. I am actually quite scared about it. In theory it’s a good thing but in practise I am concerned that this house turns into £ signs rather than what I consider its primary focus: my home. I swore when we moved here three and a half years ago that I never wanted to move again and that still holds true. I wonder if that has contributed/is contributing to some rather inappropriate behaviour on my part.
Spent a very pleasant few moments wandering around the food fair at Spitalfields market at lunchtime and picking up a rather delicious roll which made a change from pondering Eat or Soup + Salad for inspiration. Well worth a visit if you’re in the area.
However, I am constantly baffled at the average UK consumer’s relationship with food and, in particular, a singular lack of understanding about where food comes from. One of the stall - in an admittedly bold move - had some of its produce (rabbits and pigeons) displayed in a somewhat unprepared format ie with fur/feathers attached. It didn’t seem that out of context as nearby there was a butchery demonstration and raw meat was available in abundance but it was obviously far too much for one woman who was stood near me. With hyper-ventilation rising, she started squeaking about how there were dead animals on the stall, how it was disgusting and people should be warned. Considering she had already walked past the butchery demonstration and at least one butcher’s stall, not to mention various stalls selling sausages and other meat products, I am guessing she thinks meat comes from some sort of meat growing plant where small seeds are lovingly watered and from them springs forth a lamb chop or two.
I love meeting up with friends but I particularly love meeting up with friends you don’t see very often because you learn the most interesting things. First off: location. Freud’s is a fantastic bar and no I’m not giving a link because it’s crowded enough as it is. However, they make a mean mojito.Secondly, one of my friends who is - self admitted - somewhat neurotic will not take the tube because she’s afraid of terrorists. I find this depressing on many levels. If anyone doesn’t want to take the tube because of some nebulous terrorist threat then they have won. Albeit a tiny victory but still a victory and that pisses me off (I went on the tube on 8th July 2005 because I had to: I had to get to work, I had to prove to myself I wasn’t scared and I had to prove to the world - by increasing the number by one - that ‘we’ weren’t scared).Thirdly, it gives you a chance to say all those things you know are true about mutual ‘friends’ or colleagues that are actually true. Fuck knows what they say about me. Fourthly, you are confirmed by shared foibles and neuroses, and that means you are not mad!
What a marvellous show. I urge anyone who can to go. Such fun and energy and without the sometimes over-slickness of Cirque du Soleil (although don’t get me wrong I’ve enjoyed that too).
Sadly audience numbers are somewhat down (probably not even half full last night which was such a shame) but I think schools and community groups should be queuing to fill those empty seats (perhaps some discount ticket offer) because we’re always hearing about disaffected black youth with no/few decent role models and yet here’s a show jam-packed with young, talented black people performing without fancy props or equipment (okay with the exception of about two more technical acts which require rigging) brimming with enthusiasm, energy and self-esteem. If - having seen them - an old bint like me with zero upper body strength wants to learn how to aerial dance, then young people will surely be inspired by the performers’ bouncing energy and enthusiasm?
I was having a lovely tube journey this morning, seat from Clapham Common which is unheard of. It was lovely and then…
…it took me 15 minutes to get from about 2/3 of the way down the tube to the equivalent of the front of the tube in order to get out of the station. The platform was jam-packed, noone could move in any direction and there were no messages, nothing about the congestion. Bank is one of the few stations that actually has platform staff during the rush hour and they’re really needed because it gets so congested down there on the best of occasions. This morning was far from the best of occasions (no Jubilee line from London Bridge so everyone stayed on for the DLR from Bank, plus alleged escalator not workingness) and the member of staff on the platform was useless. There were no messages, announcements and the trains just kept on pulling in, opening the doors, more people trying to get off, no room, some crowd surfing. Absolute nightmare. It has taken me all this time to feel remotely normal and I really don’t normally get that wound up about being squashed, it’s a general fact of life.
My occasional posts on the hell of the Northern line continue and it’s never in a positive way I’m afraid.
For some reason the Underground in general and the Northern line in particular cannot get its act together between 7.45 and 8.45am - ie the peak of rush hour. At this time there needs to be a train every minute. If there isn’t a train every minute, then everything gets clogged up and they end up having to shut the gates at the entrance of the tube. Recently they have started playing classical music in the ticket hall area of some tube stations - presumably this is in attempt to calm people down as they are being held like cattle at one side of the ticket barriers, before being let loose like cattle to stampede down on to the platform and then get squished onto a tube - the cattle analogy ends there because there are EU and animal welfare regulations which prohibit cattle being subjected to your average commuter lack of space once actually on the train.
So my heart sank when I got down to the platform today and there was no Bank train for six minutes. You just know it’s going to get vile. Sure enough I had to let five trains go through before I could squeeze myself under someone’s armpit with an elbow in my back and having to hold my head at a peculiar angle so I could actually breathe*. Then - the joy! The train was diverted via Charing Cross - NO NO NO! Trains to Charing Cross start from Kennington. Do not mess with my Bank train. So I had to get off the train and undertake another shoehorning exercise to get on the next Bank branch one - grrr!
So my journey took about 25 minutes longer than it should have and the grim realisation is that a lot of people are still on holiday so the prospect of next week is even worse.
*Breathing on the tube of late is a rather hazardous experience. Not only are you likely to catch something but - at this time of year in particular - people’s breath and other air excretions are particularly noxious. Some of the stenches were so bad this morning I thought I was going to throw up.
Having used the Northern Line virtually every day for the past 11 years, I tend to try and defend it as it’s often not as bad as everyone says it is. However, I have noticed it has got SO MUCH WORSE since I went away.
This morning, I had to let five trains go through Clapham South before I could even squeeze on a train and then it was a Charing Cross one so had to do a complicated change at Stockwell thing (a lot of people change at Stockwell so there’s a good chance of squeezing on an emptying train). Anyway, whole thing took over an hour for what should be a 30 minute journey at most and I felt exhausted before I even started work - joy!
From what I can tell the problem seems to be that there are less trains actually running (you get there at 8am and there’s six minutes until the next train - you know it’s going to be hell). I’m really hoping this is not a permanent thing (the tube congestion rather than travelling to work) or I’m going to have to start getting up at silly o’clock.
Most of the time I have every sympathy for the police who are often doing a dangerous and thankless job (especially in these “leafy” parts of SW London) but the De Menezes shooting has always made me angry especially the implication that in dangerous times the normal rulebook should be chucked out. So I am “pleased” with the verdict that the police endangered the public. Obviously this is not a “pleasing” result for anyone and will have implications for the Met in particular but the police have to be held accountable when things go wrong and there were always things about the official account which did not sit straight. As no one person within the police would admit they got it wrong, they have to take collective responsibility for the tragic loss of an innocent life.
