Ive just checked out todays' BBC report on the Jean Charles Case which is going on at present.
Worryingly one of the features of the failings of the met which has come out is that Police Radios dont work on the tube, yet this was a known operational problem following the 1987 Kings Cross Blaze.
Two serious implications come out of this a) police on the tube in another situation, may have to make a decision in future which could have the same outcome as the de menezes case.
B) what about the British Transport Police? I am making an assumption they have radios- if not, how do they communicate and if they are in a problematic situation, what would they do without the support of colleagues on their way?
Perhaps masts for mobile equipment on the tube is not such a bad idea afterall.
Thursday, 8 November 2007
Monday, 5 November 2007
Radcliffe Smashes it
A short entry from me to say Radcliffe literally smashed it.
The woman beat her longstanding opponent in the New York Marathon by a credible 23 seconds - a race she had hoped to win for a long time, but what amazed me was that she went training intensively whilst pregnant.
Well done Radcliffe.
However it does seem to me to be unlikely that she will be able to compete in the 2012 olympics at 38 as looking at other athletes a lot of them retire by this point.
Maybe Im wrong, but I think that time will take its toll on the body by then and that her involvment will be more on the personality front than the track.
The woman beat her longstanding opponent in the New York Marathon by a credible 23 seconds - a race she had hoped to win for a long time, but what amazed me was that she went training intensively whilst pregnant.
Well done Radcliffe.
However it does seem to me to be unlikely that she will be able to compete in the 2012 olympics at 38 as looking at other athletes a lot of them retire by this point.
Maybe Im wrong, but I think that time will take its toll on the body by then and that her involvment will be more on the personality front than the track.
Sunday, 4 November 2007
I know where 'Britishness' lives
Has anyone ever been to Frinton On Sea?
Well if you want to know what England was like fifty years ago, get yourself an £18 return from London Liverpool street and jump onto a train to a place turned back in time.
To get there, you speed through all the essex wonders- romford, chelmsford and witham before the scenes outside change to rural, villagey type places next to the railway tracks until you reach marshey areas with run down mills and desolate single platform stations.
Once you get to Frinton you hit the main high street which leads down to the seafront and like lots of old seaside towns such as Bexhill on sea you feel like its the 1950's.
Why?
Because there are no ethnic faces, no immigrants, no chav boy racers, no chain massive superstores, unique one off shops, charity shops by the dozen and clothes shops especially for old people. It is a place untouched by time.
True to it's charm, one of the nice touches of the town is that a lot of the shops sell local fruits, veg, meats and are very traditional in their interior layout its almost like being in a museum of time, but for real.
On the downside Im told that a lot of the people are not comfortable with foreign faces moving in and foster attitudes the BNP would lap up.
However when there are discussions about what it means to look for Britishnees I'd say that Frinton On Sea is a good starting point, as Im sure there are a lot of places around the country like Frinton which hold onto the old way of living, the Queen's England even if some of the political opinions are a little pre-historic.
Well if you want to know what England was like fifty years ago, get yourself an £18 return from London Liverpool street and jump onto a train to a place turned back in time.
To get there, you speed through all the essex wonders- romford, chelmsford and witham before the scenes outside change to rural, villagey type places next to the railway tracks until you reach marshey areas with run down mills and desolate single platform stations.
Once you get to Frinton you hit the main high street which leads down to the seafront and like lots of old seaside towns such as Bexhill on sea you feel like its the 1950's.
Why?
Because there are no ethnic faces, no immigrants, no chav boy racers, no chain massive superstores, unique one off shops, charity shops by the dozen and clothes shops especially for old people. It is a place untouched by time.
True to it's charm, one of the nice touches of the town is that a lot of the shops sell local fruits, veg, meats and are very traditional in their interior layout its almost like being in a museum of time, but for real.
On the downside Im told that a lot of the people are not comfortable with foreign faces moving in and foster attitudes the BNP would lap up.
However when there are discussions about what it means to look for Britishnees I'd say that Frinton On Sea is a good starting point, as Im sure there are a lot of places around the country like Frinton which hold onto the old way of living, the Queen's England even if some of the political opinions are a little pre-historic.
Saturday, 3 November 2007
Birdseye view by a hostess
Thursday night turned out to be an unusual one for me, as I played a 'hostess' for the first time at a Charity get together in Victoria.
My role was essentially to be a 'paid presence'- Ie stand there for 5 hours not doing alot but looking alert- but not to be sniffed at.
The pay was good, but what was even better, was the insight into how Londons' wealthiest men and women spend their week nights out entrtaining themselves.
The affair was attended by mainly people of 35+, wearing not particularly nice clothes in the royal Horticultural Hall which had been stylishly set out with white drapes and neon lights. Most of the people looked like they were from another world in which overdrafts dont exist, they had perfect teeth in place by the age of ten and just spend money on any whim.
They were not the new, celebrity rich- these people represent the very upper escashalions of londons traditional class structure, with names like those who sailed first class on the Titanic- they had a wealth which I could not put my finger on- something like the people who appear in Harpers and Queen.
Once the guests had all daintily sipped their champagne and checked each other out, to find their closest rich mates- they were ushered into the banqueting area to enjoy the 'entertainments' of 2 acrobatic performers wearing lycra all in one body suits, writhing through hoops suspended in the ceiling.
Having spent a summer working in a Spanish nightclub with circus acts like this, it wasnt a surprise to me, however, the elite farts politely watched on - intrigued by the nubile spectacle before them before tucking into dinner.
The best bit of the entire night was the auction in which two tables of female egos competed for 'garden consultations'and celebrity chef cooking sessions. What I couldnt believe was that despite, the age of the women and the assumed education they have probably had they were all spending their old husbands money.
I was fascinated by the way they would ask if it was ok to go above 2 grand and the men would wave them on as though it was tuppence.
Call me cynical but it was like peering into another world- although generous in shelling out for a good cause I didnt like the ease at which they chucked money around to outdo each other.
Def a good night as the irony was that I got all the perks of being there, through the entertainment and food wihtout having to sit on a table of balding, colgate teethed plonkers.
My role was essentially to be a 'paid presence'- Ie stand there for 5 hours not doing alot but looking alert- but not to be sniffed at.
The pay was good, but what was even better, was the insight into how Londons' wealthiest men and women spend their week nights out entrtaining themselves.
The affair was attended by mainly people of 35+, wearing not particularly nice clothes in the royal Horticultural Hall which had been stylishly set out with white drapes and neon lights. Most of the people looked like they were from another world in which overdrafts dont exist, they had perfect teeth in place by the age of ten and just spend money on any whim.
They were not the new, celebrity rich- these people represent the very upper escashalions of londons traditional class structure, with names like those who sailed first class on the Titanic- they had a wealth which I could not put my finger on- something like the people who appear in Harpers and Queen.
Once the guests had all daintily sipped their champagne and checked each other out, to find their closest rich mates- they were ushered into the banqueting area to enjoy the 'entertainments' of 2 acrobatic performers wearing lycra all in one body suits, writhing through hoops suspended in the ceiling.
Having spent a summer working in a Spanish nightclub with circus acts like this, it wasnt a surprise to me, however, the elite farts politely watched on - intrigued by the nubile spectacle before them before tucking into dinner.
The best bit of the entire night was the auction in which two tables of female egos competed for 'garden consultations'and celebrity chef cooking sessions. What I couldnt believe was that despite, the age of the women and the assumed education they have probably had they were all spending their old husbands money.
I was fascinated by the way they would ask if it was ok to go above 2 grand and the men would wave them on as though it was tuppence.
Call me cynical but it was like peering into another world- although generous in shelling out for a good cause I didnt like the ease at which they chucked money around to outdo each other.
Def a good night as the irony was that I got all the perks of being there, through the entertainment and food wihtout having to sit on a table of balding, colgate teethed plonkers.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
