A not so secret history of our streets.

We are pretty easy to spot. Usually male and rarely young we favour good quality if shabby apparel. Sensible footwear and a small rucksack slung over one shoulder complete the outfit. We are London's small army of urban explorers and psychogeographers and I imagine that we will be out in force today, wandering down the subject of last night's episode of BBC 2's A Secret History Of Our Streets, Notting Hill's Portland Road.  The series itself has been fantastic but if you don't know an area it's easy to forget that documentary films are just that and should never be confused with actual real life. I enjoyed last nights offering in spite of the array of horrendously arrogant rich who appeared. I bet they just love the carni, and that's another thing; this was a totally white Notting Hill. Not only did we not see a single black face but there was not even a mention of the Windrush generation, the biggest change to post-war Notting Hill and the reason why all those middle class bohemians wanted to live there in the first place. In many ways I found this to be quite surreal film not least because of the interview with the seriously strange Henry Mayhew, a man of such self importance that I was unsure if he might be just winding us all up. Very odd - and very, very rich.

Cameron? Sense of entitlement? Nah!

Descended from a long line of bankers, stockbrokers, wealthy landowners and suchlike parasites. Educated at the same prep school as Prince Edward and Prince Andrew before going on to Eton and Oxford. Gap year job working as a researcher for his godfather and wealthy Tory MP Tim Rathbone. This is the man who has the gall to pontificate about "a culture of entitlement." amongst the poorest sections of society - and at breakfast tables across the land the sound of boiled eggs being hit with the backs of spoons and copies of the Daily Mail being rustled will be drowned out by a chorus of "quite right, quite right." I just wish that I could feel more angry and less depressed about all of this.

I Love Lucy

The birthday card that I chose for Her Indoors featured this stunning 1942 picture of Lucile Ball. The lady loved the card, as I knew that she would, but was surprised to learn that the star of TVs I Love Lucy had previously had a film career in the 30's and 40's.  Lucile Ball made any number of B movies and long before I Love Lucy was known as the "Queen Of The B's".  Perhaps less well known is the fact that she was suspected by the FBI of being a covert member of the Communist Party and appeared before the notorious House Committee On Unamerican Activities. If the hardnosed boss of Desilu really was a closet tankie she certainly maintained her cover. As her husband and co-star Desi Arnaz said at the time, "the only thing red about Lucy is her hair - and that's fake."

Bone blog will be missed.

As I have said many times before, blogging is far from being the most important political activity; it's not even the most important on the not very important list. This blog certainly has no pretensions beyond being a bit of a hobby for me and an opportunity to amuse or irritate the two old blokes and a Jack Russell who bother to read it. But some blogs are more relevant and influential than others. Over the last few years Ian Bone's blog has provided sharp analysis and frequently on the spot reporting on everything from the G20 to the student rebellion to last summer's riots as well as being an online home for the libertarian left. Most importantly the blog was a huge source of FUN. Now after five years of pounding the keyboard Ian has decided to call it a day. The blogersphere will be that much the poorer.

Raining Pies In Rio.

According to a report from the Rio + 20 Summit, obesity is not just a health issue but is also a serious environmental problem and a contributor to climate change. At first I thought that this must be due to the huge number of fat bastards in the USA causing a wobble in the earths rotation but apparently it's all about the energy required to sustain these individuals. Mind you, my own theory seems plausible enough when you consider that America, with only 5% of the worlds population, contributes a hefty 30% of human weight. In truth obesity is no laughing matter, but what  never seems to be explored is the real economic foundation of the problem. Why is obesity a major issue amongst the poorest people in the most developed and richest countries? That seems to me to lie somewhere near the root of the problem and we need to air any conclusions about this - no matter how unpalatable those conclusions might be to the food industry or for that matter to liberal lefties such as myself.

A nice stroll around Cambridge.

Measured in terms of numbers attending, or for that matter impact, the Class War defend Mr Asbo anti Oxbridge elitism outing to Cambridge was hardly earth shattering. It was however what we of the Freedom Pass Column like to describe as "a nice day out". Having never been to Cambridge before I did my best to find out a bit about the town in the short time that I had available. I learnt a lot about both Colleges and Town chatting with a local nurse and a student journalist who both joined us on the march and in the pub afterwards. Wandering around The Backs I discovered that punting on the Cam is not just students hiring punts and making arses of themselves but that professional boatmen pole large punts full of tourists around for a whacking £12 per head for a 45 minute trip. It's a nice little earner but one that is not without it's darker side as I learnt from The Tab.  Had I been a Cambridge lad I might well have ended up as a professional punter.   As in all provincial towns the interesting stuff is lurking just beneath the surface. There is obviously more to Cambridge than dreaming Dons, bowler hatted jobsworths and a network of high camp soviet spies. I shall return.

Danny Boyle's Ambridge fantasy.

A bucolic scene. The English, or I should say the Southern Lowland English countryside in all it's timeless warmth and splendour. A flock of sheep are grazing a distant hill and a dairy herd make their way in for milking. Farmers in other places may work the modern three crop rotation of barley, oil seed rape and pop festival but here Dan Archer steadily ploughs his fields in the time honoured fashion turning his pair of shires at the headland with a skill passed down through the generations. The quiet is broken only by birdsong and the sound of willow striking leather as the village cricket team, led by The Squire, romp home to victory. There will be cucumber sandwiches for tea. Look, is that John Major cycling off to Holy Communion? And that gaunt figure over there by the moshpit. Is that George Orwell doing a posthumous reading of The Lion And The Unicorn? This of course is Danny Boyle's vision of the Olympic Opening.  This fantasy of small scale agriculture, all higgledy-piggledy, allotments, ponies grazing, low impact sports pitches, The Grundys dealing in a bit of scrap and people ducking and diving to make a bob or two - wasn't that a bit like the Lee Valley before all this bollocks?
I'm not anti Olympics, honestly I'm not. I want the athletes, especially the ones who have little chance of a medal, to have an experience that will last them for the rest of their lives. I hope that kids will be inspired to take up sport and I also hope that when the cobwebs are cleared from our eyes and the truth of the "legacy" is revealed for all to see, I really hope that local communities end up with some improved sports facilities, But you'll forgive me if I say that I'll believe it when I see it.