If the Stockwell Christmas Tree is standing, then it must be time for the most anal onionbagblog post of the year. Nine years ago and this event almost signalled the end of this blog. I am a man of routine, and I was repeating what had already been said:
“Look, here’s the Stockwell Christmas Tree. I told you about this twelve months ago, and chances are that I will be telling you about it in twelve months time. This must mean the end of onionbagblog.”
But I had a change of heart, brought on once again by routine.
I work / I play / I blog about it.
And so here we are, blogging about the Sunny Stockwell Christmas Tree, which of course means blogging about the glorious routine of Transpontine living.
Same as it ever was, Comrades. Same as it ever was.
‘Aint life grand!
Work and play (and bits and bobs of blogging…) transported me back to my Transpontine roots at the tail end of August, leading to a semi-permanent Sunny Stockwell base. I took on an extra role Somewhere in SE17 (and gained a little recognition.)
listen to ‘Michael Faraday School, London are runners up in the 2013 Technologist Of The Year Award’ on Audioboo
Audio Boo project at Michael Faraday school such simple use of tech, yet so effective. Impressive #altc2013
— Paul Madley (@onepablo) September 11, 2013
Excellent presentation about a talking project at Michael Faraday Primary School…#altc2013 using technology appropriately
— Helen Heywood (@skillsacademic) September 11, 2013
Meanwhile the empire building [ARF!] continued Somewhere in SE21. I was very kindly invited to join in the good news story of Lansdowne School down in… Sunny Stockwell. Locality has also been rather lovely to me on the work front in the past twelve months.
Plus the lure of the Lido, The Oval and Herne Hill Velo were proving too great to resist.
South London summers are the best.
I’m a great believer in deep level topography – people shape a place, but equally a place can shape people.
Coelum non animum mutant qui trans mare currunt.
Sounds pants?
Probably.
But I’m forever melded to the Stockwell / Oval / Vauxhall Triangle, and all the magic and myth contained within.
Don’t forget those estuary train journeys back and forth though…
I played around a little with m’blog at the start of the year. Oh the woe of re-sizing images for a template specific WP theme, and then realising that the restrictions aren’t exactly great at highlighting your hit and miss photography interests.
Whoops.
A little bit of tinkering behind the blogging scenes, and I botched together a photoblog template.
Seamless.
Sort of.
I rather like the non-discipline of simply allowing the images do the talking. Sometimes it’s a load of twaddle, but there is a minimalist satisfaction [oh yes] in publishing photos per se and allowing them to succeed (or fail) as a stand-alone blog post.
A Winter Walk Around Ferry Marsh was my first attempt at photoblogging.
You probably won’t read about Panto and G & S in previous Stockwell Christmas Tree blog posts, but they did make an appearance for 2013. Ditto @MWBewick displaying one of his many, many talents.
listen to ‘#Wivenhoe G & S Society Rehearsals 1’ on Audioboo
Beware the Ides of March – beware the bloody cold Good Friday Meet at Herne Hill. The hyperlocal Transpontine microclimate was as buggered as my track legs. I felt a fraud buying up half the summer lycra collection at the BONKERS bicycling jumble sale.
But WOH!
…won’t you just take a look at those tree trunk thighs.
Brings tears to the eyes.
The old Olympic track has progressed with probably the most radical improvements during my three years away. A brand new track surface, an inner mini-circuit and even floodlights for out of season racing.
There’s talk of buying back a track bicycle for next spring.
Chapeau!
@ukgovcamp in March was as exhausting as it was rewarding. A day spent on the South Bank discussing, learning and forming ideas as to what is possible in the online #localgov space. A momentum was built with ambitious local plans, which sadly couldn’t keep on rolling. Not in the direction that I had hoped for, anyway.
Registration for #ukgovcamp14 is opening soon, Comrades…
The estuary spring weather mirrored the Transpontine freeze yer testicles off conditions over at Mersea Island at the start of April. It was a ‘brave’ idea to cycle out to the Mersea Brewery Easter Beer Festival. It was even feistier talk to cycle back after a couple of halves of Yo Boy.
There is no more a sobering experience than allowing a minus chill factor to puncture the insides of your pants, if not your inner tube.
Seven days later and the Cols de Crystal Palace were being climbed back in Transpontonia as part of the South London Classic – SHORT-sleeved Brixton Cycles lycra livery as well.
Raced on the same day as the Paris-Roubaix, the cobbles of Folgate Street, Stepney Green and Wapping High Street were just the warm up ahead of climbing EVERY single ascent route back towards The Triangle.
Character forming and friendship forming; Le Frenchie fixie rider who climbed Central Hill whilst casually tugging away on a jazz cigarette was the single FUCK OFF cool cycling memory of the past twelve months.
Estuary time trials started in April.
And then it was To Transpontonia! …for a GLORIOUS summer spent on the piss in the Peter May.
Chin chin.
Poster Art 150 at the Transport Museum reminded you how heritage and Modernity can co-exist.
Corporatism and Crap also went hand-in-hand at the touchy feely, shitty shitty experience of The Crystal over in the Badlands of the Royal Docks.
But how to make the trip from North Greenwich over to the great expanse around The Excel?
Don’t dilly dally on the Dangleway.
The plan was for a return trip to North Greenwich. But I ‘aint too great with heights. FOUR regular commuters are currently using the Emirates Air Line [URGH] on a weekly basis. I’d wager that it is *possibly* something to do with dangling midway over the water with a fistful of sweaty palms.
Lovely view, mind.
The annual treat of a visit to the Art Deco toilets up at HQ didn’t disappoint. We even managed to squeeze in a half-decent afternoon of the ‘rrey Vs the ‘Sex whilst up at Lord’s.
Back in Transpontonia and predictably the BOOZE took over once again at The Oval.
Fine work, fella.
The great threat of the white supremacist [not linking] was exposed at the start of June in Parliament Square as being a few creepy old men who still think that they are living in 1952.
All You Fascists Bound to Lose, etc.
The first Lovely Lido swim of the season soon followed. It’s also still going, with Brockwell Lido Icicle status currently braving temperatures of 6.9 degrees. Life-affirming, tearful and changing room bonding as you compare the damage down below.
GOLDEN DAYS, Comrades.
The Smithfield Nocturne was another annual return to form. The race continues to grow with some serious sponsorship and an impressive field of riders. As ever, it was the Penny Farthings that stole the show.
I blogged (endlessly) about my mid-summer meander around the ever changing Vauxhall, Battersea and Nine Elms development. There is nowhere in London that captures the pace of regeneration and quest for change better than VNEB – not even in downtown Brixton Vill-aaage.
A photo project with my local Resident’s Association should ensure regular returns to VNEB over the coming months. My fear is that I’ll keep on missing the major infrastructure changes as this part of South London transforms itself almost overnight.
I had a VERY wet dream with Bottom and pals down at Bankside, and then joined the endless QUEUING to see Dave and his many disguises at the V and A.
No such overcrowding for the ACE Photofusion back down in Brixton and the exhibition celebrating prefabs.
Meanwhile, just around the corner and the brutality of housing was being played out once again on the streets of SW9.
It’s tempting to simply cut and paste the Lambeth Country Show blog post and put it up for the Stockwell Christmas Tree end of year wordy ramblings. For two days down in Brockwell Park, EVERYTHING that draws me back to Transpontonia is celebrated.
2013 was no different.
Sheep sheering, David Crowie and Chucklehead.
You can take the boy out of Brockwell Park, etc.
Urban Art around Josephine Avenue and the surrounds of SW9 soon followed. The full size artistic tube carriage was ACE.
My personal fave though was the tick tocking beer cans.
Wifey and I finally managed to take our honeymoon – an afternoon spent up The Shard.
Romance was EVERYWHERE – down the Walworth Road, Somewhere in SE17 and even the Sunny Stockwell flat.
All were visible from up above the brilliant viewing platform. Well worth a trip – or even a cheapo honeymoon.
Best check the weather first, mind.
A Friday night beer festival at The Oval probably wasn’t the best of ideas ahead of a 6am train the following morning and a week spent cycling around Norfolk.
Blame Red Maz. Or even the Surrey Fox.
Ahh – but which is which, etc?
A week spent in the saddle in Norfolk wasn’t without its ups and downs, so to speak. Beware the boastful bicyclist who believes that he knows the route before setting off on a six-hour hack, with only a back pocket banana for company.
Drooping.
Back in London and it was time for some b-ball.
Team GB Vs Puerto Rico wasn’t a classic game. The Copper Box though proved what a brilliant venue it is for this type of event.
*shhh* legacy…
The Bankside Wet Dream became a blowjob as Gabriel at The Globe got a little obsessed with sex and blowing horns.
I chuffing LOVED it.
Much like the fag end days of the Lovely Lido season, forever my FAVE time of the year down by the blue waters of Lake Brockwell.
Some early September cricket, and whaddyaknow – it’s only the return of my old friend Mr Hairy Back Man.
Hurrah!
It was an equally hairy experience supporting Surrey, who simply ran out of games (and youth) as the old timers dropped down a division as the old cricketers left the crease.
Dulwich Hamlet could hold off no longer.
Almost five seasons away from Champion Hill, but irresistible rise of The Rabble and the newly promoted team was a Transpontine pink ’n’ blue sexual / spiritual experience waiting to be re-born.
IT’S BLOODY BRILLIANT down at Edgar Kail Way right now.
The team play an uplifting style of football that encapsulates the hopes and beliefs of all the old South London anarchos and Commies that have come out to wave their big flags and banners at the cause.
And that cause is?
It’s all about the pink ’n’ blue football, stooopid.
Plus a glorious isolationist belief in all things South London and a totalitarian REJECTION of what passes as football in the mainstream media.
#forfuturefootball.
For South London solidarity and pink fingerless gloves.
Meanwhile…
Anyone fancy a trip north of the river?
Oh Lordy.
A topological exploration of [technically] east London was a tactical necessity for Open House Weekend. The calculated risk of walking around the edges of The City actually ended up as a glorious Sunday spent in the corporate HQ of Allen & Overy, the inner bunkers of the Bishopsgate Foundation and charming East London Central Synagogue.
listen to ‘One Bishops Sq, home of Allen & Overy @londonopenhouse’ on Audioboo
listen to ‘Wandering around Bishopsgate Institute @openhouselondon’ on Audioboo
listen to ‘Looking around East London Central Synagogue with @openhouselondon’ on Audioboo
There’s deluded talk of a trip over to West London for 2014.
A rare Soho trip to take in an exhibition of crap art by a dead junkie former male prostitute was one of the highlights of the year. The Sebastian Horsely retro at The Outsiders captured with an unnerving nod and a wink the essence of the Soho Dandy in the Underworld.
Likewise there’s never no such thing as a bad exhibition at the BRILLIANT Museum of London. Add in the subject matter of bicycles and you’re freewheelin’ with a ready-made blog post.
We are the City combined digital mapping, social art and an old Moulton suspended from the ceiling of the Museum. Art as the great inspirer was on display right in front of me.
I returned to the MoL later in the month for the Radio Times 90th birthday celebrations. As ever, the BEST Museum in London lived up to its name. The curators have a tremendous understanding in how to pass on London social history without the usual crappy artistic stuffiness.
Tell It Like It Is, etc.
Cricket was still being played [blimey] at The Oval at the end of September. Surrey had long since been relegated, but that didn’t stop young Dom Sibley from having a half-decent day in the Transpontine office.
I rolled up fashionably late for a freebie seat after day spent Somewhere in SE17. The plan was to down five pints before pissing off back to Essex. I barely managed to neck the first, such was the intensity of seeing the 18 year-old SMASH the county cricket record book.
Come stumps and yer man Dom was the youngest Surrey player to reach a first class county century; ditto for the double century, also becoming the youngest player to score a double century in the history of the county championship.
I felt old as I cried into what was left of my dodgy pint of lager.
I also felt slightly nostalgic for youth back in Soho and the pop-up [URGH] experience that was Black Market Clash.
The jumble sale for the Last Gang was everything that David Bowie Is… wasn’t.
The social history of The Clash – nay – of the late twentieth Century [GOSH] was laid out in front of you in a dodgy Soho basement. Much like the previous passing trade down in the Soho cellar, I was CREAMING my pants.
I started the LONG process of online unarchiving in October. Essentially I’m sorting and tagging a decade of digital content with a view to – well, with a view to unarchiving and sharing.
I’m uncovering many memories over the past ten years, plenty of smiles and not to mention a procession of school kids passing through SE17, some of who have now probably got children of their own.
I’m two months into the process of unarchiving a decade of digital memories, all squeezed into any available time when I’m still trying to create some new Transpontine memories.
Speaking of which, m’blog [sort of] hit the tenth anniversary in October.
Been blogging for 10 years. Blimey http://t.co/uQDNdLTPZ3 [hideous broken links / crap content ahoy! Same as it ever was, Comrades]
— Jason_Cobb (@Jason_Cobb) October 8, 2013
I rode Critical Mass once again in October. The one evening of the month when London cyclists can take back the streets was to become all the more meaningful as the month unfolded.
listen to ‘#CriticalMass Halloween Ride. Chapeau!’ on Audioboo
But it wasn’t all about the bike. I attempted to reclaim the running title of The King of Clap’ham Common.
I failed, but had a lot of fun in pounding the mean streets of SW4 and dodging all of the baby buggies.
Keeping away from the Comrades of Champion Hill was proving impossible towards the end of October.
TUSCANY!
These are our glorious, glorious Transpontine days of sporting triumph and social solidarity.
#forfuturefootball has never been so much fun, Comrades.
Also on the up are Streatham Redskins – if not on the ice then certainly geographically within the borough.
I had one last return to the Temporary Streatham Ice Rink in… Brixton, ahead of the ‘skins moving back to the spiritual homeland of Streatham.
Mid-November saw a nasty, nasty week for London bicyclists. A single blog post can’t capture the fear; yet equal determination to continue cycling the streets of the capital.
A trip up the Wellington Arch was a welcome distraction.
The Winter swimming season at the Lovely Lido became laughable as the temperature dropped to single digits.
Nope – IT REALLY DID BECOME LAUGHABLE as you struggled to stay upright after leaving the waters of Lake Brockwell, and then had a fit of the giggles with the other Brockwell Icicles back in the gents.
Ha, bloody ha.
All good Sunny Stockwell Christmas Tree blog posts should end with a little more imagery from Dulwich. A return to Champion Hill in November became something more than simply a football match. This was a celebration of what is possible when folk come together with one aim.
#DHFC If I'm not at at the game today it's cos I've been arrested for trying to solve the housing crisis. Think of me, pink & blue comrades.
— Roberto Vog the 76th (@vornstyle) November 16, 2013
We’re still trying to work out what that aim is down at Champion Hill, but waving pink ’n’ blue flags and flying the Transpontine banners has to be a good starting point.
And finally some botched words on Brixton regeneration.
Um, should have moved to Sunny Stockwell Comrades.
Nice Christmas tree.
Same again next year…