THE MIDDLE CLASS ARE REVOLTING

MILLENNIUM PEOPLE by J.G. Ballard (Flamingo, 2003)

“Learn the rules and you can get away with anything”

I visualize J.G. Ballard writing his dystopian fiction from his safe European home in the Surrey stockbroker belt of Shepperton. Although his views bordered on the misanthropic, his life was outwardly respectable and I reckon he was a big softy at heart.

However, the late author hated anything that struck him as pretentious and/or fake; which accounts for his venom towards cheap entertainment and much of what passes for modern culture.

UP THE BAKERLOO LINE WITH PAUL MORLEY

EARTHBOUND by Paul Morley (Penguin Books, 2013)

By common consensus Paul Morley is a pretentious tosser and, moreover, he knows it.

He was a weekly source of irritation during his tenure at New Musical Express from 1977 – 1983 but somehow his pieces were impossible to ignore.

His self-consciously provocative style was exasperating but I have to concede that the man can write. With the benefit of hindsight, I think he was providing a valuable service to NME readers by making the point that writing about music is always subjective and personal.

When we listen to recordings or find bands, we bring our own baggage which includes plenty of prejudices and preconceptions. We can never hear these sounds in a vacuum; our responses are coloured by our mood, background and the space in which we experience the music.

In Earthbound, Morley admits that his articles would “seem to be about one thing and then half way through, start to be about something else altogether” and this book follows much the same pattern.

The book is one of twelve pocket-sized Penguin paperbacks inspired by a different tube line to celebrate 150 years of the London Underground. They are intended to illustrate how, although we are all connected in some way, the space we live in shapes our imagination in different ways.

WHAT DOES YOUR IDEAL LONDON HOME LOOK LIKE?

What’s the connection between these two buildings in London?

Where would you rather live?

The one on the left is Hampton Court an 18th Century building in Richmond.

The one on the right is The Alexandra and Ainsworth Council Estate (commonly known as Rowley Way) in Camden which was completed in 1978.
The connection between the two is that they are both Grade II listed buildings which means they are officially designated as “particularly important buildings of more than special interest”.

I’m guessing that most will have answered that Hampton House is the most desirable of the two. But think of all the cleaning and the overwhelming scale of the house. There would be no neighbours to chat with either.

The council housing may not look that appealing from this photo. A typical example of brutalist architecture and the epitome of a concrete jungle, perhaps?

If you think this, you should watch the movie (see link below) – One Below The Queen: Rowley Way Speaks.

COFFEE STAINS OLYMPIC FEEL GOOD FACTOR

In London for the final day of my week’s holiday – the day after the games had ended.

Much has been made of the warmness of the welcome afforded by visitors to the capital. The Olympic volunteers rightly received the most spontaneous and prolonged applause during Seb Coe’s closing speech.

The city has earned the right to bask in this glory but I was reminded that there is always another side to any metropolis by a small incident in one of the ubiquitous Cafe Nero coffee bars.

I was taking advantage of the free wi-fi after ordering a single espresso. I sat opposite a young couple with my ipad. They were engrossed in each other and had obviously just finished drinking lattes and eating cake – empty cups and plates with cake crumbs were on the tray in front of them.

After putting sugar in my coffee I placed the used sachet on this same tray. “Excuse me”, the woman said accusingly, “You’ve just put that on our tissue”.  I should have asked what further use she was planning to make of this paper serviette but I was speechless. I reached behind me for the dispenser and placed another tissue on top of the one I had ‘soiled’ and returned to surfing. The man whispered something to her, advising her, I think,  not to cause a scene. They left soon after.

It was a petty incident, I grant you, but I was left to reflect that this could only have been an example of a person who had gone to advanced assertiveness training classes where she had learnt that preserving one’s own space has a special symbolism. The tissue was not the issue – it was the principle what counted.

Has it come to this? Are our cities now so depersonalised that a casual discarding of a sugar sachet can be regarded as act of effrontery? If so, the legacy of the Olympic games will be extremely short-lived.

FAREWELL TO LONDON

Today is the last full day of my mini break in London.

This street art in Brick Lane sums up my mood: