"This isn't good enough. These olives, they're sticky."
"That's an outrage. I've never been so insulted in all my life."
The woman jabs at the olives.
"They're sticky. I want my money back."
Urban Green Fair, Brixton. The home of drum workshops, holistic massage, and falafel. Christians and Buddhists. The Brixton Pound brigade. And lots of green groups.
Picking my way through the crowd, through to the Friends of the Earth stall where I am putting in a shift, I am reminded of just how many green organisations there are. Greenpeace are there, worrying about fish and nuclear warheads, World Development Movement are concerned about international finance, Climate Camp are against 'clean' coal, and Transition Town Brixton want to reduce dependance on oil. Friends of the Earth are campaigning about the food chain ie. that feed for animals here should be produced here and not on rainforest land.
The event is pleasant, filled with cycling vegetarians, of which I am one, talking genially about allotments and rearing chickens. Many times I start chatting to people about the meat and dairy issue and they raise a hand and say, 'I know.' The phrase 'preaching to the converted' comes up more than once.
It is a harmless exercise in the concerned few having a day signing their support for each other's campaigns. But without other things to draw people to the event, namely Chucklehead cider, a feature of the Lambeth Country Show, most people will generally not bother attending.
That seems a shame. Better to expand the remit a bit, get some traders and tunes, and give the green groups a chance not just to chat to their own. Otherwise the only argument you will hear at the Urban Green Fair will be about the quality of the olives.
Sunday, 20 September 2009
Wednesday, 16 September 2009
Goldacre debate with science minister
I've just been down to the Royal Institution where Ben 'Bad Science' Goldacre was debating the quality of science journalism with science minister Lord Drayson. Simon Mayo chaired.
Lord Drayson was 'for' science journalism and Goldacre, inevitably, 'against'. Paul Drayson's argument was that there was a low point in science journalism in 2002/03, with MMR stories scaring parents into not taking their children for the vaccine. He said things have improved since then. He also made a case for sensationalism, because it gets so many more people talking about science, citing end of the world fears about the Large Hadron Collider project which made people aware about physics.
Goldacre, a chirpy, lively character whose fans filled the auditorium, said there should be more for the nerd in the media. He made a case for more features about general trends in science, rather than news stories about research being published. That seems unrealistic and a recipe for dullness.
He was dismissive of the Daily Express's science coverage. Today's front page was mentioned which talks of research into a new cancer drug which could help thousands. His criticism was of the Express generally, not of the story in particular. However, this story, from Breakthrough Breast Cancer, for whom I work as press officer, showed good quality journalism from the Express.
The story was well-written, with a good explanation of the research. It cited the peer-reviewed journal in which the research was published and quoted the scientists who led on the research, Professor Alan Ashworth and Dr Chris Lord.
Michael Hanlon, from the Daily Mail, made a stout defence of his newspaper's journalism. He said while his paper does sometimes write conflicting stories, that reflects research published in journals such as Science and Nature.
James Randerson, from the Guardian, said that a recent survey had showed that the vast majority of scientists were happy with how research was represented in the media. He also disliked the suggestion from Goldacre that there was something wrong with a journalist picking up a piece of research, quickly familiarising themselves with the story, conducting interviews and then writing it up within a few hours. ie he was defending the daily news journalism process.
Both Paul Drayson and Ben Goldacre shifted towards the common ground through the debate. Both have a role to play: the minister in promoting groundbreaking research and quality journalism where he sees it, Goldacre in scaring everyone in the media and science PR to do the best job they possibly can.
I think that Goldacre's appeal for more journalism for the nerd is unrealistic. Science is more often than not funded by ordinary non-scientists who raise money for research in the name of a good cause. These millions of people need to hear about the research, so they can see the benefit of the money they are raising. Without their money, many scientists would be out of a job, and we wouldn't see progress made in treatment of diseases like cancer. We need to see science not relegated to a niche, but promoted as being important and interesting for everyone.
Result of the debate: a high scoring match, edged by Paul Drayson.
Lord Drayson was 'for' science journalism and Goldacre, inevitably, 'against'. Paul Drayson's argument was that there was a low point in science journalism in 2002/03, with MMR stories scaring parents into not taking their children for the vaccine. He said things have improved since then. He also made a case for sensationalism, because it gets so many more people talking about science, citing end of the world fears about the Large Hadron Collider project which made people aware about physics.
Goldacre, a chirpy, lively character whose fans filled the auditorium, said there should be more for the nerd in the media. He made a case for more features about general trends in science, rather than news stories about research being published. That seems unrealistic and a recipe for dullness.
He was dismissive of the Daily Express's science coverage. Today's front page was mentioned which talks of research into a new cancer drug which could help thousands. His criticism was of the Express generally, not of the story in particular. However, this story, from Breakthrough Breast Cancer, for whom I work as press officer, showed good quality journalism from the Express.
The story was well-written, with a good explanation of the research. It cited the peer-reviewed journal in which the research was published and quoted the scientists who led on the research, Professor Alan Ashworth and Dr Chris Lord.
Michael Hanlon, from the Daily Mail, made a stout defence of his newspaper's journalism. He said while his paper does sometimes write conflicting stories, that reflects research published in journals such as Science and Nature.
James Randerson, from the Guardian, said that a recent survey had showed that the vast majority of scientists were happy with how research was represented in the media. He also disliked the suggestion from Goldacre that there was something wrong with a journalist picking up a piece of research, quickly familiarising themselves with the story, conducting interviews and then writing it up within a few hours. ie he was defending the daily news journalism process.
Both Paul Drayson and Ben Goldacre shifted towards the common ground through the debate. Both have a role to play: the minister in promoting groundbreaking research and quality journalism where he sees it, Goldacre in scaring everyone in the media and science PR to do the best job they possibly can.
I think that Goldacre's appeal for more journalism for the nerd is unrealistic. Science is more often than not funded by ordinary non-scientists who raise money for research in the name of a good cause. These millions of people need to hear about the research, so they can see the benefit of the money they are raising. Without their money, many scientists would be out of a job, and we wouldn't see progress made in treatment of diseases like cancer. We need to see science not relegated to a niche, but promoted as being important and interesting for everyone.
Result of the debate: a high scoring match, edged by Paul Drayson.
Friday, 28 August 2009
Uncovering layers of Oxford Street
The overhaul of Tottenham Court Road station to make way for the Crossrail project is seeing the urban fabric stripped back. The dilapidated Victorian corner blocks are being pulled down; expect a glass and steel replacement.
Most of the area is covered with scaffold and protective sheets, like a theatre curtain disguising a change of scene.
Dionysus chip shop has gone: no fish and chips this side of Holborn now.
And down on Oxford Street, Waterstones has been closed. The shop sign has been pulled down, revealing the long-forgotten Dillons bookshop chain. The mind is cast back to a time before the coffee shop and gourmet sandwich takeover, to the 80s high street, of Our Price, Wimpy, Woolworths and C&A.
Standing faded and unnoticed on London's most famous shopping street, it looks older than any church: the prehistoric world of retail before the internet; the high street before Americanisation.
Wednesday, 19 August 2009
I just like to travel on trains
I yawn.
Rotund Asian man, mid 30s, with Prince Naseem haircut: Are you tired?
Yes, a little bit.
I’m tired too. I’ve been travelling for 14 hours today, since 7 this morning.
That’s a long day.
Yes, a long day.
Where have you come in from?
Milton Keynes.
I hear Milton Keynes is interesting. Lot of straight roads, very modern.
Yes, it is very nice.
What did you do there?
Had a look around, went to a café for a cup of tea coffee.
And now you’re off to Wolverhampton?
Yes, I’m going to Wolverhampton and then I catch the train back to Coventry.
That’s a lot of travelling.
I like travelling on trains. Have you got a job?
Yes. In London.
I don’t need to work. My parents give me 350 a week so I don’t need to. Every day, I travel. I go out in the morning and don’t get back until they are in bed.
That’s great.
Yes, next week, I have booked to stay in Leeds for a fortnight, so I can travel around there.
I like Leeds.
It is my favourite city. It means I can go up to Edinburgh during the day, and come back to Leeds at night. Are you married?
No.
My parents want me to get married but I don’t want to. I just like to travel on trains.
Rotund Asian man, mid 30s, with Prince Naseem haircut: Are you tired?
Yes, a little bit.
I’m tired too. I’ve been travelling for 14 hours today, since 7 this morning.
That’s a long day.
Yes, a long day.
Where have you come in from?
Milton Keynes.
I hear Milton Keynes is interesting. Lot of straight roads, very modern.
Yes, it is very nice.
What did you do there?
Had a look around, went to a café for a cup of tea coffee.
And now you’re off to Wolverhampton?
Yes, I’m going to Wolverhampton and then I catch the train back to Coventry.
That’s a lot of travelling.
I like travelling on trains. Have you got a job?
Yes. In London.
I don’t need to work. My parents give me 350 a week so I don’t need to. Every day, I travel. I go out in the morning and don’t get back until they are in bed.
That’s great.
Yes, next week, I have booked to stay in Leeds for a fortnight, so I can travel around there.
I like Leeds.
It is my favourite city. It means I can go up to Edinburgh during the day, and come back to Leeds at night. Are you married?
No.
My parents want me to get married but I don’t want to. I just like to travel on trains.
welsh women on a train
Woman on train from Swansea to Cardiff sitting down with a coffee:
"That was a long way that was. Right down the other end. I went all the way up there and the woman behind the counter says to me, ‘can you come back in five minutes. I’m just setting up.’ I said, no, I’ve come all the way up the train for a coffee; I’ll wait here until you’ve done what you are doing.
"I waited there and asked for two lattes, and you know what she said, she said I couldn’t have them because the machine wasn’t working, it’d have to be instant. She pours me two coffees and says, that’ll be £3.40. £3.40! I said, You’ve only put coffee with water.
"I said I wanted a latte and you’re charging me for a latte and I’m only getting instant. She said a latte was £1.90."
"Outrageous."
"I know. And she was rude. Can I come back in five minutes? She could have just said, could you wait here while I set up, I’ll be with you in a minute, but no."
"That was a long way that was. Right down the other end. I went all the way up there and the woman behind the counter says to me, ‘can you come back in five minutes. I’m just setting up.’ I said, no, I’ve come all the way up the train for a coffee; I’ll wait here until you’ve done what you are doing.
"I waited there and asked for two lattes, and you know what she said, she said I couldn’t have them because the machine wasn’t working, it’d have to be instant. She pours me two coffees and says, that’ll be £3.40. £3.40! I said, You’ve only put coffee with water.
"I said I wanted a latte and you’re charging me for a latte and I’m only getting instant. She said a latte was £1.90."
"Outrageous."
"I know. And she was rude. Can I come back in five minutes? She could have just said, could you wait here while I set up, I’ll be with you in a minute, but no."
Monday, 17 August 2009
White van man
"That's what you get when you buy snide Sat Nav. It won't tell you where you need to go."
White van man to second white van man, Streatham
White van man to second white van man, Streatham
Sunday, 21 June 2009
Ornette Coleman at the South Bank
The first thing I see is a youth's afro hair whipped up to look something approximating a 99 ice cream. He is wearing plus fours and breeches. His lady looks like Bonnie Parker.
That gives me hope. That puts a smile on my face. I am in amongst the freaks and the weirdos, the dreamers. The jazz fans. The jazz professors, too. Because we are down in that corner of jazz that is out there, vulnerable, that can be attacked from all sides and for which one can never offer a substantial defence. This is free jazz.
This is Ornette Coleman. The man who took jazz in a direction so outside the mainstream, so outside ordinary consciousness, that the reputation of a music that started in the dance halls of New Orleans never truly recovered.
His support act sets things up nicely. On they come in their little white turban/fez/hats and green gowns, eight of them, four playing drums, four playing Moroccan oboes. Those oboes come out like a squall, like a call to prayer across a muslim town. And the drums, the drums play in no rhythm I have ever heard, dense polyrythms, on and on, repetitive, remorseless until you enter a trance-like state. After some period of time, they exit stage left, still playing, heads bobbing, The Master Musicians of Jajouka.
After a needless break, Ornette is introduced. He ambles on, all 79 years of him on display, in a blue silk suit. His son is on drums, and an acoustic double bass and an electric bass make up the quartet. The sound that comes from his horn is instantly there, instantly Ornette. He has the ear for the tuneful melody, and an ear for distortion, he can play both sweet and harsh.
He has a free attitude to instruments. He has a sax, a trumpet and a violin by his side, and makes late decisions about which to play. He might pick his trumpet up, think better of it then lay it on his lap, and play his violin instead. And if you get the violin, you get a violent scraping over the top of his tight, tight band. If you get the trumpet, you might get a flourish, a suggestion of a tune, a small flight, and then an abrupt full stop. And if you get the saxophone, you might get anything at all.
He finishes the opening part of his set with a straight ahead swinging number that could have been out of the Ellington songbook (I don't know), and then on comes cock-sock-rock-surf-chili-pepper Flea, in black suit, skinny black tie and white trainers. First things first, the man can play, we know that, but in Ornette's group?
Yes he can. Okay, he plays the bass with arms wrapped around it like a surfing gorrilla, he can't contain his body from moving around, hyperactive, but he can play, mostly within himself, only letting off the occasional funk riff for which he is famed.
Back on stage come the Master Musicians and we are headed for a 20-minute African, jazz-funk collaboration. I saw Spiritualized and Sonic Youth 'collaborating' on that same Royal Festival Hall stage. They made a lot of noise, it went on for ages and I got so wiped out by the sheer droniness of it that I fell asleep. This started off little different, the sound was muddy and the two bands were side by side, apart. But after quite a while (we had some walkouts) they got it together, they found that jamming rhythm and it worked. They lost it and found it again, and those men from Morocco gave it up and it was all handshakes.
It got stripped down to a trio for the encore. It was a very sweet version of one of those songs from the Shape of Jazz to Come, just Ornette, really, a man with a saxophone and a soul playing it for love.
That gives me hope. That puts a smile on my face. I am in amongst the freaks and the weirdos, the dreamers. The jazz fans. The jazz professors, too. Because we are down in that corner of jazz that is out there, vulnerable, that can be attacked from all sides and for which one can never offer a substantial defence. This is free jazz.
This is Ornette Coleman. The man who took jazz in a direction so outside the mainstream, so outside ordinary consciousness, that the reputation of a music that started in the dance halls of New Orleans never truly recovered.
His support act sets things up nicely. On they come in their little white turban/fez/hats and green gowns, eight of them, four playing drums, four playing Moroccan oboes. Those oboes come out like a squall, like a call to prayer across a muslim town. And the drums, the drums play in no rhythm I have ever heard, dense polyrythms, on and on, repetitive, remorseless until you enter a trance-like state. After some period of time, they exit stage left, still playing, heads bobbing, The Master Musicians of Jajouka.
After a needless break, Ornette is introduced. He ambles on, all 79 years of him on display, in a blue silk suit. His son is on drums, and an acoustic double bass and an electric bass make up the quartet. The sound that comes from his horn is instantly there, instantly Ornette. He has the ear for the tuneful melody, and an ear for distortion, he can play both sweet and harsh.
He has a free attitude to instruments. He has a sax, a trumpet and a violin by his side, and makes late decisions about which to play. He might pick his trumpet up, think better of it then lay it on his lap, and play his violin instead. And if you get the violin, you get a violent scraping over the top of his tight, tight band. If you get the trumpet, you might get a flourish, a suggestion of a tune, a small flight, and then an abrupt full stop. And if you get the saxophone, you might get anything at all.
He finishes the opening part of his set with a straight ahead swinging number that could have been out of the Ellington songbook (I don't know), and then on comes cock-sock-rock-surf-chili-pepper Flea, in black suit, skinny black tie and white trainers. First things first, the man can play, we know that, but in Ornette's group?
Yes he can. Okay, he plays the bass with arms wrapped around it like a surfing gorrilla, he can't contain his body from moving around, hyperactive, but he can play, mostly within himself, only letting off the occasional funk riff for which he is famed.
Back on stage come the Master Musicians and we are headed for a 20-minute African, jazz-funk collaboration. I saw Spiritualized and Sonic Youth 'collaborating' on that same Royal Festival Hall stage. They made a lot of noise, it went on for ages and I got so wiped out by the sheer droniness of it that I fell asleep. This started off little different, the sound was muddy and the two bands were side by side, apart. But after quite a while (we had some walkouts) they got it together, they found that jamming rhythm and it worked. They lost it and found it again, and those men from Morocco gave it up and it was all handshakes.
It got stripped down to a trio for the encore. It was a very sweet version of one of those songs from the Shape of Jazz to Come, just Ornette, really, a man with a saxophone and a soul playing it for love.
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