My favourite part of the trip though, is when we pass a dance school. There must be a traffic light there, as we sit there for a while. I see the students in their tights and ballet slippers, bent over stretching distracted as they listen to their teacher giving the morning instructions. Looking down I catch odd glimpses in the mirror, pink tights, shoes, muscles, shoulders back necks long exuding elegance and power simultaneously. For a second I join them, I reach my breast bone to the sky, pull back my shoulders extend my arms and lift off out of the bus and dance. I pirouette, I lift my leg point my toes, I arch graceful. Then the light changes. I'm back on the bus, on the way to my desk dreams forgotten again.
Tuesday, 4 October 2011
The dance of the morning commute
I still enjoy my morning commute to work. I take the bus, so can spend the whole trip gazing out the window watching the world go by. London is a great place for people watching, especially in the mornings, where they hustle and bustle on the way to work. Through my headphones I imagine they are taking part in a dance. Walk like an Egyptian plays in my ears, and they strut, they weave, they bounce in their high heels, they groove as they themselves listen to some unknown tune in their headphones. Mad world plays, and they shake their heads, they run, they wait despair written on their faces as the bus doesn't stop.
My favourite part of the trip though, is when we pass a dance school. There must be a traffic light there, as we sit there for a while. I see the students in their tights and ballet slippers, bent over stretching distracted as they listen to their teacher giving the morning instructions. Looking down I catch odd glimpses in the mirror, pink tights, shoes, muscles, shoulders back necks long exuding elegance and power simultaneously. For a second I join them, I reach my breast bone to the sky, pull back my shoulders extend my arms and lift off out of the bus and dance. I pirouette, I lift my leg point my toes, I arch graceful. Then the light changes. I'm back on the bus, on the way to my desk dreams forgotten again.
My favourite part of the trip though, is when we pass a dance school. There must be a traffic light there, as we sit there for a while. I see the students in their tights and ballet slippers, bent over stretching distracted as they listen to their teacher giving the morning instructions. Looking down I catch odd glimpses in the mirror, pink tights, shoes, muscles, shoulders back necks long exuding elegance and power simultaneously. For a second I join them, I reach my breast bone to the sky, pull back my shoulders extend my arms and lift off out of the bus and dance. I pirouette, I lift my leg point my toes, I arch graceful. Then the light changes. I'm back on the bus, on the way to my desk dreams forgotten again.
Tuesday, 16 August 2011
London Riots - The Aftermath
Well it's one week later and it seems that 16,000 police did do the trick. Although I have to wonder if it has more to do with the stern telling off the PM gave the rioters, making them realize in a country that is known for being number one in the world in terms of CCTV coverage, they would be caught!
Like after any big event in society this has got people talking. There seems to be widespread condemnation for the rioters, certainly I've heard no-one trying to argue that they were in any way politically minded. A protest was organized in my suburb on the weekend, and while I was pleased to see people getting together to have their voices heard, I was a little disappointed with the messages being carried by the protesters. The majority of the posters carried two phrases 'Don't blame our kids, blame the Torries' and 'Bankers are the real looters'. Firstly I think sending the message that the rioters are not responsible for their actions is very dangerous, after all what we need is more personal responsibility not less, that's not to say that I don't think that the government has a role to play in building a society educated enough to tell right from wrong, but at the end of the day it is your decision to take part in looting or not, as with anything ignorance is no excuse! My distaste over the 'Blame the Torries banner' is that this problem has been embedded in British society much longer than the current government has been in power, the estates where gangs rule and knife crime is rife did not pop up in the last few years! I have a little bit of sympathy with the other banner, 'Bankers are the real looters'. It is true that what happened to the financial systems was driven by greed and seemed to be done in a vacuum of thought for long term consequences or responsibility to other people. Certainly drawing that parallel is interesting however in my mind the two are only loosely related and focus on bankers detracts from the real issues. If the banks had been more cautious would Britain still have under educated people living in poverty, I think so.
Thankfully these aren't the only two sentiments that are being discussed, there has been a lot of emphasis placed on what I think is at the root of the issue, that these young people did not feel part of the community. Living with my flatmate who is struggling to find work after finishing her Masters last year, I have a little bit of insight into how this could happen. She is on the benefit and has explained what it is like when sometimes they don't pay her and she has to go in and sort it out. Apparently the first question she is faced with is "How did you manage to survive without the money?", after she tells them that she tells them she had to borrow money from her friends she is asked to bring in letters from her friends confirming this. As if borrowing money from your friends wasn't degrading enough! [If this is how social services deals with an unemployed Masters student one wonders what it is like for kids growing up on estates. If the majority of interactions with the people who are supposed to help you when you are in trouble are belittling and degrading it is easy to see how you would grow a distaste for such services and even a desire to rebel against the society that is treating you will very little respect.
Still while all this discourse is great, the question still remains, what do we do to fix it? Sadly on this topic I have heard very little that is inspiring. In fact I'm appalled at one of the government's responses which is to give the councils more power to kick people out of social housing. If you think that problem is that 'society is broken', how is effectively pushing these people even further out of society going to help? Personally i don't know what the answer is either, I suspect we really need to listen to the youth themselves and the people who work with them. I hope the momentum around this issue lasts long enough to come up with some good responses. I asked my current flatmate who is politically active, "Are people still talking about this on your Facebook?", "yes", she said, " a few, what about on your Facebook?" "Well no, not really" I had to admit. The sad truth is that once things go back to normal events are quickly forgotten and people move on to the next big story the media feeds them.
Like after any big event in society this has got people talking. There seems to be widespread condemnation for the rioters, certainly I've heard no-one trying to argue that they were in any way politically minded. A protest was organized in my suburb on the weekend, and while I was pleased to see people getting together to have their voices heard, I was a little disappointed with the messages being carried by the protesters. The majority of the posters carried two phrases 'Don't blame our kids, blame the Torries' and 'Bankers are the real looters'. Firstly I think sending the message that the rioters are not responsible for their actions is very dangerous, after all what we need is more personal responsibility not less, that's not to say that I don't think that the government has a role to play in building a society educated enough to tell right from wrong, but at the end of the day it is your decision to take part in looting or not, as with anything ignorance is no excuse! My distaste over the 'Blame the Torries banner' is that this problem has been embedded in British society much longer than the current government has been in power, the estates where gangs rule and knife crime is rife did not pop up in the last few years! I have a little bit of sympathy with the other banner, 'Bankers are the real looters'. It is true that what happened to the financial systems was driven by greed and seemed to be done in a vacuum of thought for long term consequences or responsibility to other people. Certainly drawing that parallel is interesting however in my mind the two are only loosely related and focus on bankers detracts from the real issues. If the banks had been more cautious would Britain still have under educated people living in poverty, I think so.
Thankfully these aren't the only two sentiments that are being discussed, there has been a lot of emphasis placed on what I think is at the root of the issue, that these young people did not feel part of the community. Living with my flatmate who is struggling to find work after finishing her Masters last year, I have a little bit of insight into how this could happen. She is on the benefit and has explained what it is like when sometimes they don't pay her and she has to go in and sort it out. Apparently the first question she is faced with is "How did you manage to survive without the money?", after she tells them that she tells them she had to borrow money from her friends she is asked to bring in letters from her friends confirming this. As if borrowing money from your friends wasn't degrading enough! [If this is how social services deals with an unemployed Masters student one wonders what it is like for kids growing up on estates. If the majority of interactions with the people who are supposed to help you when you are in trouble are belittling and degrading it is easy to see how you would grow a distaste for such services and even a desire to rebel against the society that is treating you will very little respect.
Still while all this discourse is great, the question still remains, what do we do to fix it? Sadly on this topic I have heard very little that is inspiring. In fact I'm appalled at one of the government's responses which is to give the councils more power to kick people out of social housing. If you think that problem is that 'society is broken', how is effectively pushing these people even further out of society going to help? Personally i don't know what the answer is either, I suspect we really need to listen to the youth themselves and the people who work with them. I hope the momentum around this issue lasts long enough to come up with some good responses. I asked my current flatmate who is politically active, "Are people still talking about this on your Facebook?", "yes", she said, " a few, what about on your Facebook?" "Well no, not really" I had to admit. The sad truth is that once things go back to normal events are quickly forgotten and people move on to the next big story the media feeds them.
Tuesday, 9 August 2011
London Riots
As dusk falls, it's strangely calm in Dalston this evening. I just went for a walk up the road, as much to buy some food as to see what the atmosphere is like in Kingsland Rd, where last night the local Turkish community stood strong against the rioters and managed to prevent any damage in the area. Compared to last night when I went out at 6pm and you could cut the tension in the air with a knife, life, if a bit quiet, seems relatively normal on the streets. People are still out having dinner in the Turkish restaurants along the street, still having a drink in the pub and just walking about. There are signs though that things are not quite as normal, the Argos at the end of my street is completely boarded up, the Tesco and the cafes across the road from it , which are usually buzzing, are all shut. There appears to be groups of Turkish guys gathering, I imagine in case they need to protect their property. Yet a world of difference from last night when there were police helicopters circling all night, and my bus home at around 10pm was not stopping in Dalston Junction leaving me to find for my own way home. Was quite unsettling given that the bus had passed groups of hoodies on bikes carrying wooden batons, and still being relatively new to London I didn't really know where I was. Luckily I found a lady on the bus who lived very near me and who suggested we catch a cab together. We managed to hail one shortly after getting off the bus, and the driver promised to get us as close as he could. Fortunately that turned out to be all the way! After a night of hearing the continuous sound of sirens and the police helicopters, I think all my flatmates went to sleep wondering what we were going to wake up to in the morning. Yet the sunny day in London has brought not much. A strong condemnation of the violence, a lot of questions about why the police were not there to protect them, a decision to provide almost 3x more police tonight, and a few people starting to ask the question in my head, which is, why has this happened? Let me be clear the question is not why are they rioting and looting, I think no-one is really arguing that it is anything more than opportunistic youth with no respect for authority, I heard one commentator describe it as 'aggressive late night shopping', but what are the roots that have created groups of youths that think it is ok to do this? But as darkness falls, first though we have to wonder what tonight will bring, and if 16000 police is enough?
Thursday, 19 May 2011
London - Brick Lane, Kurt Vile
Inspired by the summery London day I turn up in Brick Lane immediately feeling rather too pastel. Surrounded in a sea of stripes, thick rimmed glasses and red lipstick, I stand out like a sore thumb in my restyled vintage yellow dress and tan suede boots.
With the destination being rough trade records, where Kurt Vile is playing a free in-store concert at 1pm, I'm lured into a nearby cafe for a bite to eat. Still starry eyed by the very edible lunch options that just weren't available in Amsterdam's world of kaas and fillet American, don't ask, I find a spot upstairs amongst the couches on one of those graffitied but in a cool way tables and devour my tasty buffalo mozzarella and rucola salad. I notice the book Orphanage in the corner but am happy to people watch. From where I sit London certainly seems more edgier than anywhere I've been before.
Sneaking in store just in as they reach capacity, I find a spot on the outskirts of gathered hipster crowd. Kurt Vile comes on opening with the very country twangy "Jesus Fever", ha hipsters, at least my outfit matches the style of music. With a slight darkness in his eyes and sweet sneaky grin that curls up the half of his face that isn't covered with his curly long brown locks, he is mesmerizing to watch. In my limited corner view that leaves me no choice but to look him straight in the eyes you can't help but feel he is looking straight back, I'm sold. With more psychedelic interludes than I'd noticed listening to his album online, its feels like he's found a good mix between 1970s rock and beautiful deep twangy heartland vocals, mixed with a touch of darkness reminiscent of 90s grunge, or perhaps its the hair making me say that. It takes me back to a warm and fuzzy place when the world was full of possibilities I spent my evenings on my parents furry brown couch exploring my Dad's record collection with the odd Nirvana interlude. That's exactly what you want from music, to transport you! The concert finishes, and on a high, I stay to drink in the surroundings of the rough trade record store. Kurt Vile is signing albums behind the counter, the guitarist from Parts and Labour, who I saw last night in some basement in Shoreditch for 8 pounds, is discussing his album cover with some girl. Just about all the albums on display are ones I've been listening to recently. I long to leave with a rough trade bag full of music, but I slightly forlornly remember that I can listen to them all for free and besides what would I do with all that plastic or vinyl. I don't even have a place to live yet! Time to go.
On the way out I stop to grab the cinnamon danish I resisted at lunchtime, to be greeted by the exclamation of a fellow customer that my dress is beautiful. Ok so perhaps I wasn't too pastel after all. Thanks lady whoever you were. I wander the rest of the Brick Lane Danish in hand, and discover the street turns very Indian with the sweet smell of curry wafting from all directions and the shops full of colorful Indian sweets and savoury treats. If only I'd had a camera this would have made for some great photos. I return happy London is a edgy and varied place, I can't wait to discover more.
With the destination being rough trade records, where Kurt Vile is playing a free in-store concert at 1pm, I'm lured into a nearby cafe for a bite to eat. Still starry eyed by the very edible lunch options that just weren't available in Amsterdam's world of kaas and fillet American, don't ask, I find a spot upstairs amongst the couches on one of those graffitied but in a cool way tables and devour my tasty buffalo mozzarella and rucola salad. I notice the book Orphanage in the corner but am happy to people watch. From where I sit London certainly seems more edgier than anywhere I've been before.
Sneaking in store just in as they reach capacity, I find a spot on the outskirts of gathered hipster crowd. Kurt Vile comes on opening with the very country twangy "Jesus Fever", ha hipsters, at least my outfit matches the style of music. With a slight darkness in his eyes and sweet sneaky grin that curls up the half of his face that isn't covered with his curly long brown locks, he is mesmerizing to watch. In my limited corner view that leaves me no choice but to look him straight in the eyes you can't help but feel he is looking straight back, I'm sold. With more psychedelic interludes than I'd noticed listening to his album online, its feels like he's found a good mix between 1970s rock and beautiful deep twangy heartland vocals, mixed with a touch of darkness reminiscent of 90s grunge, or perhaps its the hair making me say that. It takes me back to a warm and fuzzy place when the world was full of possibilities I spent my evenings on my parents furry brown couch exploring my Dad's record collection with the odd Nirvana interlude. That's exactly what you want from music, to transport you! The concert finishes, and on a high, I stay to drink in the surroundings of the rough trade record store. Kurt Vile is signing albums behind the counter, the guitarist from Parts and Labour, who I saw last night in some basement in Shoreditch for 8 pounds, is discussing his album cover with some girl. Just about all the albums on display are ones I've been listening to recently. I long to leave with a rough trade bag full of music, but I slightly forlornly remember that I can listen to them all for free and besides what would I do with all that plastic or vinyl. I don't even have a place to live yet! Time to go.
On the way out I stop to grab the cinnamon danish I resisted at lunchtime, to be greeted by the exclamation of a fellow customer that my dress is beautiful. Ok so perhaps I wasn't too pastel after all. Thanks lady whoever you were. I wander the rest of the Brick Lane Danish in hand, and discover the street turns very Indian with the sweet smell of curry wafting from all directions and the shops full of colorful Indian sweets and savoury treats. If only I'd had a camera this would have made for some great photos. I return happy London is a edgy and varied place, I can't wait to discover more.
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