Thank God that's over!

If I was a member of the Labour Party, homeward bound from the conference and nursing a near fatal hangover, I would not be happy. Not because Miliband has come across as a bit of a muppet, or because of the embarrassingly contrite apologies,and not even because the party has failed to relaunch itself as any kind of left alternative. No, what would distress me would be the seemingly total lack of any ideas at all. I have absolutely no clue about what Ed Miliband stands for but I suspect that it is a kind of warm, cuddly capitalism where no one gets hurt and no one is too greedy. I thought that the best comments on his "good and bad" companies theme came from Autonomy CEO and techno billionaire Mike Lynch on the Today Program. I may not agree with Lynch's politics but at least he seems capable of reason.

Spirit of the blitz and all that.

At our allotment site we are lucky to have old fashioned hand pumps that will keep us supplied for as long as the water table stays more or less where it is now. Since I retired I have taken on looking after these pumps and as they are such a wonderful example of appropriate technology this is a real pleasure. The pumps are so simple yet so cleverly designed. At a recent talk about pump maintenance that I gave in an effort to get more plotholders involved I was banging on about what a wonderful bit of kit they are and mentioned that they remain a principle source of fresh water in many third world countries. "That will be handy," commented one smart arse, "we'll be a third world country ourselves soon". It's being so cheerful that keeps us going!

Never work with kids or animals Ed.

Is it just me or do party conference child prodigies give everyone the creeps? I'm sure that Rory Weal is a nice enough young chap and nothing like as smug as that dreadful Hague kid (remember him?). And what about that amazingly articulate young person who got all those Trot juices flowing at Stop The Cuts meetings a while back? Seriously, you have to admire any teenager who is articulate and self-confident enough to address a big conference audience but I can't help thinking that I prefer those young scallywags who were making bonfires in Whitehall nine months ago.

Pubs and parks.

For us Freedom Pass psychogeographers, in our seemingly aimless wandering of the streets of London Town, there is just no escaping the Victorian legacy all around us. The strident self-confidence, a level of inequality that makes our own fractured society seem positively utopian, the huge wealth of Empire; the evidence is all there in front of us in the bricks and mortar that even a combined blitz of Nazi bombs and speculative office building have not been able to wipe out. Much of what our ancestors left behind, such as the horrendous Albert Memorial, is mawkish and grotesque but when it came to designing pubs and parks, two of my favourite places, the Victorians knew a thing or two I reckon.

Yesterday I visited two of my favourites. Much as I am a fan the clean lines of modernist architecture and design, when it comes to watering holes give me the Victorians every time. The Princess Louise in High Holborn is probably the best remaining example of a Victorian boozer that you are likely to find. Acres of gilt mirrors, etched glass, wonderful tiles, wood panelling and ornate plasterwork - why, even the urinal is a gem! Enjoy your refreshment and ponder the fact that back in neolithic times that old commie Ewan MacColl ran a folk club upstairs.

Take a short walk south from the Princess Louise. Make your way through Covent Garden, by all means stopping off for a quick one in the Lamb And Flag, cross The Strand and enter the second Victorian gem - The Victoria Embankment Gardens. This is a only a tiny park but to my mind is a real classic. So get yourself a coffee, find a vacant bench and relax. There! Not been a bad afternoon has it?

Bit nippy in here Chris. Got any ideas?

How thoughtful of Energy Minister Chris Huhne ( Westminster School and Oxford) to point us all in the right direction regarding the best way to deal with escalating fuel costs. More households than ever are facing the prospect of fuel poverty but according to multi millionaire Huhne this is to some extent their own fault. Seems like we just can't be bothered to spend the time shopping around for a better deal. I see it all now. If I were to waste less time writing this blog and concentrate instead on searching the net for cheaper gas and electricity I could be fucking quids in.

This sort of condescending advice from our betters has a long history. We have even had to suffer well heeled MPs in much publicised "experiments" of living on dole money for a week before lecturing the lazy, undeserving poor on the benefits of a hearty lentil casserole and putting an extra blanket on the bed. OK! There's some truth in all this. There are a number of ways that we can save a bob or two. Growing your own, recycling, shopping around here there and everywhere for a better deal, these are all sensible things to do and yes, all that stuff can be fun - but a lot more fun when you aren't worried sick about the rent or mortgage, the cost of everything going up and just the sheer debilitating lack of any glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel. I'm reminded of the slogan that I wrote almost forty years ago - KEEP WARM THIS WINTER. MAKE TROUBLE and look forward to hearing that victims of fuel poverty are getting the circulation going by dancing round a bonfire of Chris Huhne's furniture.

Maryam Namazie makes my day.

Today's March For Secular Europe was predictable in a number of ways. A few hundred of us trudged along the mercifully short route from Victoria Embankment to Downing Street for the usual rally and speeches. Don't get me wrong. I may have misgivings about fighting for the separation of Church and State when in reality I would prefer to see the abolition of both, but none the less, I support the Secular Europe Campaign. The less influence that priests, mullahs, ju ju men and god botherers of every description have in our world the better and if undermining their power involves me with a liberal humanist current- so be it. This was pretty much what was going through my mind this afternoon. That is until Maryam Namazie of the Council Of Ex- Muslims took the stage. What a speaker! This is a lady who takes no prisoners. Not for her any wishy-washy liberal concerns about relativism or treading on the toes of some supposed minority. For her the only good religion is one that's on the back foot. Religion is a political force and resistance to it is a political act. If you have not heard her speak catch up here.

We are what we eat.

One of the ways that groups of people differentiate themselves from others is by the food that they eat and how that food is prepared. This is no more than an amusing cultural footnote most of the time but the bringing of religion into the equation can make it very unamusing indeed. Proscribed foods, such as pig meat or holy cows, can take on a life or death importance in some societies. My own experiences in this area, while nothing like as dramatic as the Indian Mutiny, for example, have shown that even the most rational and open minded people would think twice about eating something that they were just not used to. Take "her indoors" for example. Coming from a Polish family she was brought up eating beetroot as a hot vegetable and of course as the main ingredient of borsch while I had never eaten it other than as a pickle or salad vegetable. When the subject of beetroot comes up down the allotments I find that the majority of growers still consider it to be something to steep in malt vinegar and eat with summer salads. Strange, but not mind you as strange as Jon Snow's recent revelation that he had never sampled the delights of HP sauce (what?). Britain is full of odd regional culinary variations but surely none more idiosyncratic than the one that I encountered as a teenager. Thames bargemen hailed from either North or South of the Thames Estuary and on the whole Essex and Kent crews got along pretty well. We drank in the same pubs, endured the same bad weather and suffered at the hands of the same owners. But in one important respect we were two distinct tribes and that concerned the famous, or infamous, bargeman's duff. No meal was considered complete without a steamed suet pudding. This monster of the deep, liberally laced with raisins, was wrapped in butter papers and a tea towel ( none of that effete pudding basin nonsense) and plunged into a vat of boiling water and simmered for a couple of hours. Now we come to the contentious bit. Whereas those tough blokes from Erith, Gravesend and the Medway Towns would have the duff as "afters" sprinkled with sugar, the Essex Bargeman preferred his duff to be served with his meat, gravy and spuds. Each side avowed that the other were no more than "fucking savages" but both agreed that any leftover duff should be fried with a few rashers of fat bacon the following morning. I can taste it now.