CANARY WHARF: Am I the only one who finds the fact that

Chevron can boast profits are up 49% for the quarter while all we hear everywhere else (and feel at the petrol pump) is that oil prices are rising due to the instability of the gulf region confusing? I mean couldn't Chevron bring oil prices down 49%, postpone profits for a quarter and ease the pain on the global economy and its powerless minions?

One Man's Performance Art, Is Another's Three Mile Walk Home

CANARY WHARF: On the weekend I’ll be swapping the Hammersmith and Fulham Libraries for some southside variant like South Lambeth. But before I do that I’ve been desperately trying to hoover as much information out of Peter Ackroyd’s London before I return it five weeks late. On Monday night I was reading about the Blitz and how this city and its brave citizens marched through four years of sustained bombing with a grimy faced stoicism. They would not be defeated. Not even when the terrifying doodlebugs delivered their destruction from foreign lands.

So with this as the background I hopped off the Tube this morning and ducked across the road to pick up some photos, a tub of strawberries and a packet of shaved ham. When I walked into the Morrisons a queue was forming beside a recently erected police line and a troupe of Aussies, still shower wet, were being marched out of their hostel. I lingered for a couple of minutes, this being London I expected some half-crazed PD with a knife being talked into a peaceful surrender.

Errands over fifteen minutes later and outside the bustling green had been transformed. Passengers were blocked from walking down the other side of the road, people were no longer allowed to enter the Morrisons, the Tube station across the road was closed, police helicopters swarmed overhead and the air was rich with the sound of sirens. By the time I got down to the Hammersmith and City stop that was shut as well. The police line, like urban encroachment, continued to march inevitably down the street.

By the time I’d crossed the green people were being evacuated from everywhere. Even the markets were shut. There was a crowd gathering at the bottom of the park, people trying to get to the Central line and beyond. As I walked home down Uxbridge Road I watched bus after bus stacking up behind each other, cars full of irate motorists and a steady stream of pedestrian traffic flowing in both directions.

It turns out a “performance artist” had placed five suspicious packages in the Hammersmith – Shepherd’s Bush area including one in the busy Hammersmith Broadway Shopping Centre. While I was utterly shocked, frightened and a little excited by all activity I met in the streets seem to meet the day’s events with little more than annoyance. On the three mile trudge home I suddenly felt like a Londoner and a tourist at the same time.

Odyseus Returns

CANARY WHARF: Congratulations are in order. For me of course. The Odyssey of my search for a London pad seems to have come to its conclusion. From Sunday I should be resident at Rob and Chris's place in Clapham, struggling to adjust to the change of size from my sprawling Acton estate to a tiny shoe box.

On another note I'm just wondering how chav's find chavettes, with their track suits, mouths full of gum, absurd hooped earings and I Dream of Jeannie haircuts, appealing. And that's without mentioning the appaling accents. Innit?

What Zatopek Would Have Done

CANARY WHARF: So another weekend has come to pass and I'm back doing the night shifts for one of those long, endless, depressing weeks. Still by the end of the week I could be safely ensconsed in my new house in Clapham. That is if my friends decide to have me. If they don't I don't know what I'll do. Being rejected by houses chock full of Aussie bogans is one thing, being knocked back by my mates for a second time would be another thing altogether.

My weekend was reasonably quiet, by recent standards anyway. On Friday night I cooked stuffed capsicums with sweet potato chips and lemon brocoli for my housemates and had a lovely night talking shit and then on Saturday we enjoyed the sun and the Spanish tourists at the Portabello Road Markets.

And then this morning I went in to St. James Park to watch the finish of the marathon which was thrilling. Even though I didn't see the conclusion of the race, watching two men battling it out in the last two hundred metres of a 42 kilometre race was incredible. Then you had the usual procession of ordinary heroes that power every marathon. Cheering them on was probably the highlight.

Anyway my good readers (who never leave comments) it's probably best that I get back to work.

Paka!

The Challenge

SECOND AVENUE: The glorious silver gauntlet has been tossed into the mud. The challenge... a photo of every Tube Station in London including the Silver Link and the DLR. I have eighteen months and stand to win £30. Stay posted.

The Resurrection

SECOND AVENUE: Long time, no blog huh? I bet you all thought I was sitting around in miserable English living rooms staring out at rain soaked streets and bunkering down in pubs watching the last frantic moments of the football season play themselves out. That my friends, couldn't be further from the truth. Last week, after my first seven night marathon, I kicked around with Charlie Brown who was off work for the week (or the year - with teachers you can never tell) a fair bit exploring bits and pieces of North London. On the Monday we did a walk from Finsbury Park to Crouch End (setting of High Fidelity) on a disused railway track that has been transformed into a walking track. It was like a tiny bush oasis in the middle of London.

Then on the Wednesday we cruised on down to Blackfriars to pick up my Easter present (thanks Mum!) and then wandered through the ancient streets I've been reading about in Peter Ackroyd's London, swinging past St. Paul's and ending up at the Museum of London. I'm almost sure I did something on Tuesday as well but for the moment I have absolutely no idea what.

It was back to work on Thursday for a day before hooking up with the Birmingham massive in Clapham and having the rest of the Easter Weekend off. In some glorious synergy my (fulltime) job has seen me work four days in the past fourteen... beautiful. On Good Friday I headed back north with Charlie Brown, this time to check out Hampstead Heath. This sprawling park is probably the biggest I've ever seen and we wasted most of the afternoon sitting in the sun in t-shirts before heading back to Clapham for another night of adventure with the Brummies.

Our Easter party on Saturday night was, to quote Jess Two, full of racist behaviour. The less said about the nine hour orgy of debauchery the better! Then it was back to work in a deserted office on Easter Monday, another two uneventful days of work, a farewell to Jess One, and now I'm on my weekend again.

Last night we had beers at the DogStar in Brixton, a pub made famous for being in a Mike Skinner lyric (Ra Ra Back to the Dogstar), slept on the couch then walked from Clapham to the Tate Modern with Jen and Rob. Some great Cy Twomblys, Jackson Pollock's Summertime and the Giacometti statues were todays highlights. Oh and Rachel Whitread's Embankment for one last time. This sprawling installation is something I think I've waxed lyrical on in these pages in the past. Well dear readers, that would be all from me, or as much as my memory permits. Now it's off to stare out the window at the 8PM sunshine and get ready for football.

The True History of South America

SECOND AVENUE: The internet, being the pure democracy it is, I came across these gems to day while I was looking for some information about the Spanish conquest of South America. Unfortunately I didn't read the description before I opened the link and it turned out to be a white revisionist history book. Check this:

"In 1531, a conquistador named Francisco Pizarro invaded South America with 180 White men and 62 horses, taking on the hundreds of thousands and possibly millions of Incas living in the gold rich Inca empire which covered the areas today compromising the countries of Peru, Chile and Bolivia."

"The historical records show that Pizarro had exactly 62 soldiers mounted on horses along with 106 foot soldiers, while Atahualpa commanded an army of about 80,000. More than 7,000 Incas were killed: not one White died.

The staggering military victory was based solely on White technological superiority: the Amerinds had only stone, bronze and wooden clubs, maces and hand axes, slingshots and quilted material body armor against the White steel swords, spears and chain armor. Even the guns the Spaniards had were not decisive: they were slow loading and difficult to fire: Pizarro had only a dozen of them. The Incas were simply unable to mortally wound any of the Spaniards with their weapons. "

"The White conquest of South and Central America also saw two significant population makeup changes: firstly, large numbers of White settlers (mainly from Spain and Portugal) intermarried with Amerinds, creating a new mixed race group which now dominates the entire region. This is the primary cause of the large social, economic and political gap between North and South America."

If that doesn't draw a chuckle, you're dead or stupid!

Like Ulysses I Have Returned Home

SECOND AVENUE: So it seems I've safely weathered the storm of a thousand (or seven) nights and I'm finally on my odd shaped weekend. Let me just say that those fifty six hours of last week passed with a minimum of incident, and my Russian is somewhat improved for it.

Yesterday driving home with, in the searing blue sky London taunts early risers with, one of my colleagues I had the priviledge of going across the Tower Bridge, seeing the Tower of London, and watching Westminster shimmer in the morning glow. Then when I got home I went for a run down through Ravenscourt Park, across to Hammersmith, along the Thames and then over the Hammersmith Bridge and back again. Marvelous. Anyway my dear and humble readers to day I'm heading over to the fabled East London to see some kind of art exhibition, apply for a couple of jobs and hopefully find somewhere permanent to live.

Extra Extra - Slow News Day

SECOND AVENUE: Just so you know, I'm still here I thought I'd drop you a little line. We're enjoying a week of the most beautiful weather this week. True I'm in bed by 11 and it's dark when I get up but that still means I have four beautiful hours to enjoy the blue sky. Went for a jog today and even found a pedestrian overpass with something of a view... well tower blocks and tightly knitted houses.

And if I do have any regular visitors keep an eye on the right hand column coz I'm starting a series of links to my favourite podcasts. Yes my good readers I have truly discovered the joys of podcasting. After getting horribly sink of London radio - rock orientated stations are all an identical mix of 70's and 80's predictable tunes, modern alterna pop and crap - I leapt headfirst into the podcast void. And it turns out it was the best thing for finding new music since visitng the Sub Pop homepage.

Such A Perfect Day

CANARY WHARF: Rather than ranting and raving about the lamentable state of the world, or musing over some London oddity, I thought I'd take a moment to share the lovely day I had last Thursday with my favourite readers.

After sitting up too late watching the Champion's League with Elerig, and then playing too much Playstation, I roused myself midmorning. Called Rob and made plans to meet him at Ray Davies' favourite tube stop... Waterloo. From there we visited the Hayward Gallery for a last minute peak at the absolutely amazing Dan Flavin retrospective. For the uninitiated, Dan Flavin, was one of the leading minimalists. Working almost exclusively in commercially produced neon tubing, his works meant the entire gallery was bathed in this gentle, almost ethereal glow, of reds, blues, pinks, yellows and greens. I'd read countless reviews of the show but wasn't sure if I was going to be completely taken in by it. As it turns out the soft light made for the most intoxicating experience.

After the gallery we ate some crappy Chinese and then went to Leicester Square to watch The World's Fastest Indian which was okay. Kind of like The Straight Story it's a feel good movie for old folks. After that it was back to Acton where I met up with my housemate Alejandro and headed off to play football. Needless to say I was hopelessly out of touch and probably couldn't score a goal if the goalie was having an epileptic fit on the halfway line, but at least I had fun.

Anyway the rest of the week didn't get anywhere near those highs. I went to the Boat Race which was too crowded to see anything and basically bummed around most of the rest of the time. Now I'm doing a week of graveyard shifts so there isn't exactly going to be a lot to report for the next five days.

They're All Wankers

SECOND AVENUE: In the theme of recent posts here are some light amusements.

My favourite mass transit system and my preferred banana republic. Just don't go playing these with the boss around.