Gospel concert in Waterloo

http://serefo.org.uk/

Dr Arnold, founder of SRF and the Mayor of Wandsworth Mrs Jane Taylor

This was a fundraiser for the Separation and Reunion Forum. a group concerned with helping people heal from the separation of mothers and children in the fifties and sixties as a result of migration from the West Indies. The concert had the most marvellous Barbados nurses choir and the tenor Ronald                 .
I am afraid I can never stop myself trying to sing along...But wanted people to hear the choir

Jonah Lehrer

http://www.jonahlehrer.com/

It's just been a week of continuous rain and it has made us all a bit fed up. After a taste of how wonderful London can be in warm spring weather a couple of weeks ago, London has been given a good thrashing of rain.  We had booked tickets for this lecture by Jonah and our friend was keen to go.
I was too, struggling to learn sewing and get some creativity going as a therapy I was keen to know what the latest research is in neuro- science about inspiration and why some people make a good fist of things- if not brilliance, and others don't.


We booked the lecture through 'The School of Life' and it was part of their Sunday Service series.

http://www.theschooloflife.com/Sermons
 Modelled on a church service we sang a very funny Ian Dury 'hymn'

Noel Coward was a charmer.
As a writer he was brahma.
Velvet jackets and pyjamas,
"the gay divorce" and other dramas.

There ain't half been some clever bastards
(Lucky bleeders, lucky bleeders)
There ain't half been some clever bas-tards.

Van Gough did some eyeball pleasers.
He must have been a pencil squeezer.
He didn't do the Mona Lisa,
That was an Italian geezer.

There ain't half been some clever bastards
(Lucky bleeders, lucky bleeders)
There ain't half been some clever bas-tards.

Einstein can't be classed as witless.
He claimed atoms were the littlest.
When you did a bit of splitting-em-ness
Frighten everybody shitless

There ain't half been some clever bastards.
Probably got help from their mum
(who had help from her mum).
There ain't half been some clever bastards.
Now that we've had some,
let's hope that there's lots more to come.

There ain't half been some clever bastards
(Lucky bleeders, lucky bleeders)
There ain't half been some clever bas-tards.

Okey-dokey!
Oh!
Segovia.
Da-laa la-laa da-daa da-lee
De dump di dump de dump-dump-diddle li-lee.

There ain't half been some clever bastards
(Lucky bleeders, lucky bleeders)
There ain't half been some clever bastards
(Lucky bleeders, lucky bleeders)
There ain't half been some clever bastards
(Lucky bleeders, lucky bleeders)
There ain't half been some clever........
bastards





 followed by a Bob Dylan song which illustrated how Dylan scooped ideas from very diverse sources to produce a flash of inspiration that came out in the song 'Like a rolling stone'


The essence was that we need to choose our aims carefully and in the end how much 'grit' we have, ie determination and perseverance, added to our creativity sparks will be the main predictor of our achievement.  Jonah talked about clusters of creativity, where against popular myth, groups of very highly talented thinkers met together - and this is going to be more and more likely as the problems we need solving get more complicated and team work is more likely to produce genius than the individual working alone.

Liberal England: Songs of Praise and the class system

Liberal England: Songs of Praise and the class system:

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My Life in Travel: David Starkey, historian and television presenter - News & Advice - Travel - The Independent

My Life in Travel: David Starkey, historian and television presenter - News & Advice - Travel - The Independent:

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I so agree with him

The changing face of Brick Lane

The Ice Cream parlour makes way for another money change place

Bengali Cafe goes- coffee and cakes comes

A trip round the Olympic park

the best bit of the park 

the Green Tube walking path 

Only three months to the Games. And we toured the park, courtesy of LO-Cog and a jolly Hockey guide who name checked some of the athletes as if they were personal friends.  It was like 'Here's where Tom is going to dive and Perri is not going to stay in Mile End but here in the village"
The Park has some great buildings but seems very bitty and just like a series of installations like at an art gallery. The loveliest  but was a small fifties type industrial building with a cafe for the builders and that is planned to come down I think. But perhaps it just needs people to make the place live.

Henrietta, Mavis and Joan

Henrietta's  poem

Henrietta and 

Mavis

our three great ladies of Spitalfields

http://spitalfieldslife.com/2011/01/21/mavis-bullwinkle-secretary/

My favourite choir

This is the choir who sings every Sunday at Petticoat Lane Market between 11-12. This song is 'Jesus, Morning Star' and it's my favourite title for him.  
I love this choir and you can just about hear me singing along in a voice that is just terrible. John is at the start of the video and you can just see him rushing away in embarrassment and hiding between the stalls

Spitalfields Life Chit Chats

Spitalfields Life Chit Chats:

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Our friend, the amazingly named Mavis Bullwinkle is speaking tonight

Around Bermondsey

http://www.bermondseyvillage.org.uk/

With an old friend we wandered round Bermondsey- not anything like the place I knew not that many years ago- it must be one of the most pretentious of London's new desirable areas. The notice board in the park, untouched by graffiti or funny comments must have had one hundred invites to waste your money per notice board. This 'Praise the Pork'  was typical- along with massage, soothsayers, nutritionists, herbalists et al

Easter Bank holiday Monday

view from our window

Well this has been the most appalling Bank Holiday. rain for two days almost non stop, freezing cold churches, huge amounts of food to use up from friends who failed to turn up in the rain.  Our lovely fiery plant you can see in the picture began to spout it's red leaves a couple of weeks ago when we had our first spring.  Now I am afraid it will get all confused and get cold and lose it's rosy cheeks

University cash crisis hits historic women’s library

University cash crisis hits historic women’s library

Oldies afternoons at the Picture House

You know for sure you are officially 'old' when you can get in to these silver screen films on Tuesdays and Wednesdays for £2.50 and also stuff your face with custard creams and no questions asked  Having said that it's a nice time to meet 'real'east enders (not easy) and see some truly awful films.  Despite good reviews 'This must be the Place' seemed like pretentious nonsensical beautifully filmed with little motifs like Sean Penn blowing the hair of his face.  At the end I had to ask Ann, 'what was that all about?'  
'Jump Street' was funny and witty but too much repetitious stuff about 'dicks' And a pretty awful car chase.  All very shocking for older people I say!

the size of the walrus

This FREE museum is just half an hour away on the Overground from Shoreditch high street.. It is an amazing place- natural history and this enormous walrus and a very good photographic exhibition of the old cultural festivals of England- and not just May Day.
Even more fascinating was the armies of yummy mummies with their children- coaching them along- toddlers listening to professional story tellers- most of the children were less than a year and could not possibly understand what was going on.  Teaching starts early in this affluent part of South london

Our Saturday workshop

These are some of the results of a three hour workshop workshop at Heba.  Two of these women are complete beginners!   We meet every Saturday at 10am

Free Craft Class

modelling one of the designs

This is a FREE workshop on Monday afternoons at the only school in the City of London.
the teacher, Hafsna, will help with any craft project and there is a friendly atmosphere. The class has some very talented needlewomen and designers and also some beginners.  All are welcome and the classes are aimed at mothers and grandparents-


http://www.sirjohncassprimary.org/familyroom.asp

Olek

http://www.theupcoming.co.uk/2012/03/06/dont-miss-out-street-artist-olek-crochets-an-entire-room/It is a room made of crochet- made by the polish artist Olek and subtitled after Tracey Emin
"I do not expect to be a mother but I do expect to die alone"

Ken and the Prophet | The Spectator

Ken and the Prophet | The Spectator:

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Open day at Sandys Row Synagogue

The roof has been restored- this poor place is about a yard from the City Of London boundary so Tower Hamlets is officially it's location. This gorgeous little place, home to the dutch jews originally, gets very little help from the local authority. Jeremy Freedman showed us round on this open day- his forefathers worshipped here and he spends a lot of his time here, keeping the tradition alive    http://www.sandysrow.org.uk/

Flying the flag

hand sewing - more to come we hope

Family Bangla Craft and Textiles Workshop :: Rich Mix

Family Bangla Craft and Textiles Workshop :: Rich Mix:

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Welcome to Sandys Row Synagogue - London's Oldest Ashkenazi Synagogue

Welcome to Sandys Row Synagogue - London's Oldest Ashkenazi Synagogue:

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‘We’d rather side with the bankers than some vegan protester twit on benefits’, say Gilbert and George - Visual Arts - Arts - Evening Standard

‘We’d rather side with the bankers than some vegan protester twit on benefits’, say Gilbert and George - Visual Arts - Arts - Evening Standard:

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Ornish Spectrum Introduction

Ornish Spectrum Introduction

I will never give up... but reading/watching/thinking instead of doing

Meshwi Restaurant

these hand painted robins decorate the walls

This is the newest restaurant in Bethnal Green Road and is owned by a friend of ours. Taizul aims for it to rival the famous Tayab sin Whitechapel and so we decided to try the lamb chops which were as delicious as Tayabs. The restaurant seats 90 and the food was brilliant. Someone also recommended Bunda Khan in Commercial street for their lamb dishes - so at Easter I might well give it a go

The launch of the book 'Spitalfields Life'

Even royalty attended- pearly queen of Upton park no less

spitalfields life

The food stall was besieged. Eccles cakes and cheese

I am not in the habit of going to book launches.  This was a first for me so near home and it was deservedly packed for our local author.  he has faithfully kept his blog daily for two years- it is beautifully written and wonderful descriptions of this great place where we are so lucky to live.  The doors were closed when 600 people were inside and still people were queuing to be let in as people left. Many of the people in the book are well known around here so it was especially exciting.  

The Banner

This is the new large banner that can be bought from Spitalfields market on the Heba stall.
It is made of thick canvas and the branches are of leather. The motifs at the end of the branches are covered in see through plastic and the idea is to put family or school photos in the pockets. It is priced at £80 and can be seen at Spitalfields market by Montezumas chocolate shop or phone Anjum or Anne at Heba in Brick Lane

The new London Hospital

This is the view from the 13th floor where my friend is a patient. brand spanking new, in debt up to its eyeballs, miles of long corridor, separate entrances to the wards for staff and patients and relatives. It seemed a very scary place, not on a human scale at all.  The single rooms are quiet, air conditioned with fridges but no TV or radio- it felt very lonely indeed. The view from the rooms is brilliant but the windows are too high to see if you are in bed.  

Turning 60

It's not a good feeling as I turn 60.  Now viewed as old when inside I feel incredibly childish. 
And learning all the things I missed out on when I was a child-
Missing my sister but learning to apreciate the great family I have around me. And my friends.

And the NHS which  have never given up on me.  The birthday card that arrived in my birthday was...
an invitation to take a bowel cancer test. And I think everyone gets this too.  wonder if I will ever get a card from King William if I make 100.  I am not sure I want to..

'Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close'

http://extremelyloudandincrediblyclose.warnerbros.com/index.html


This is a great film.  John and I went- mainly because of free ticketsfrom 'The Times'.
I loathe this venue- hate the Greenwich Peninsula with its chain restaurants and lack of any individuallity- but the cinema in the Dome is very comfortable. The film for me has everything that I am interested in- location of the city, experienceof childhood and trying to see the world through the eyes of an autistic child.   And the themee of loss and how to come to terms with it. 

Brick Lane, not Tarmac Lane! | News

Brick Lane, not Tarmac Lane! | News:

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Quiz night with two of 'The Chasers'

Shaun Wallace and Paul Sinha

http://www.itv.com/entertainment/thechase/The chaps were very gracious and posed for me as I am sure some people do not believe me when I tell them about how brilliant it is to be part of the Quiz League of London and meet some really great people
http://quizleagueoflondon.biz/home/default.aspx

Theatre Royal Stratford

The tatty safety curtain close up

The dismal view from the theatre

http://www.stratfordeast.com/the_theatre/working_with_us.shtml

Anyone can join and help the theatre increase its audience and come to life.  Many of my friends are involved with this - I joined them on a tour of the theatre- very fascinating and many of the people who work there are actual east enders- very rare in London. There is a choir attached to the theatre and loads of events leading to the cultural Olympics so it's a good time to get involved

St Joseph's Hospice jumble advance dates

31st March – Jumble Sale 10.00-13.00

16th June – Summer Fete 12.00-15.00

8th September – Jumble Sale 10.00-13.00

17th November – Christmas Bazaar 12.00-15.00

The best ones are Summer and Christmas but all pretty good.  One of the volunteers is sorting me out some sewing patterns and craft books

around the Boleyn

It is a world almost unrecognisable from my childhood.  Very eastern.  We started at the Friends coffee bar (run by eastern Europeans)  The best, hottest, strongest coffee I have  had in ages!  Then past this wistful plaque on a unremarkable block of flats near The Boleyn. Lunch was at the sri Lanka restaurant for a fiver- no idea why the sign says £15!
So many cheap restaurants -mostly hindu around East Ham station. The shop window is pretty typical of the area too!

Very evocative memory

Spitalfields Life: On Sunday Morning


On Sunday Morning
Posted: 14 Jan 2012 04:01 PM PST
On Sunday – when I was a child – my father always took me out for the morning. It was a routine. He led me by the hand down by the river or we took the car. Either way, we always arrived at the same place.
He might have a bath before departure and sometimes I walked into the bathroom to surprise him there lying in six inches of soapy water. Meanwhile downstairs, my mother perched lightly in the worn velvet armchair to skim through the newspaper. Then there were elaborate discussions between them, prior to our leaving, to negotiate the exact time of our return, and I understood this was because the timing and preparation of a Sunday lunch was a complex affair. My father took me out of the house the better to allow my mother to concentrate single-mindedly upon this precise task and she was grateful for that opportunity, I believed. It was only much later that I grew to realise how much she detested cooking and housework.
A mile upstream there was a house on the other riverbank, the last but one in a terrace and the front door gave directly onto the street. This was our regular destination. When we crossed the river at this point by car, we took the large bridge entwined with gryphons cast in iron. On the times we walked, we crossed downstream at the suspension footbridge and my father’s strength was always great enough to make the entire structure swing.
Even after all this time, I can remember the name of the woman who lived in the narrow house by the river because my father would tell my mother quite openly that he was going to visit her, and her daughters. For she had many daughters, and all preoccupied with grooming themselves it seemed. I never managed to count them because every week the number of her daughters changed, or so it appeared. Each had some activity, whether it was washing her hair or manicuring her nails, that we would discover her engaged with upon our arrival. These women shared an attitude of languor, as if they were always weary, but perhaps that was just how they were on Sunday, the day of rest. It was an exclusively female environment and I never recalled any other male present when I went to visit with my father on those Sunday mornings.
To this day, the house remains, one of only three remnants of an entire terrace. Once on a visit, years later, I stood outside the house in the snow, and contemplated knocking on the door and asking if the woman still lived there. But I did not. Why should I? What would I ask? What could I say? The house looked blank, like a face. Even this is now a memory to me, that I recalled once again after another ten years had gone by and I glanced from a taxi window to notice the house, almost dispassionately, in passing.
There was a table with a bench seat in an alcove which extended around three sides, like on a ship, so that sometimes as I sat drinking my orange squash while the women smoked their cigarettes, I found myself surrounded and unable to get down even if I chose. At an almost horizontal angle, the morning sunlight illuminated this scene from a window in the rear of the alcove and gave the smoke visible curling forms in the air. After a little time, sitting there, I became aware that my father was absent, that he had gone upstairs with one of the women. I knew this because I heard their eager footsteps ascending.
On one particular day, I sat at the end of the bench with my back to the wall. The staircase was directly on the other side of this thin wall and the women at the table were involved in an especially absorbing conversation that morning, and I could hear my father’s laughter at the top of the stairs. Curiosity took me. I slipped off the bench, placed my feet on the floor and began to climb the dark little staircase.
I could see the lighted room at the top. The door was wide open and standing before the end of the bed was my father and one of the daughters. They were having a happy time, both laughing and leaning back with their hands on each other’s thighs. My father was lifting the woman’s skirt and she liked it. My presence brought activities to a close in the bedroom that morning. It was a disappointment, something vanished from the room as I walked into it but I did not know what it was. That was the last time my father took me to that house, perhaps the last time he visited. Though I could not say what happened on those Sunday mornings when I chose to stay with my mother.
We ate wonderful Sunday lunches, so that whatever anxiety I had absorbed from my father, as we returned without speaking on that particular Sunday morning, was dispelled by anticipation as we entered the steamy kitchen with its windows clouded by condensation and its smells of cabbage and potatoes boiling.
My mother was absent from the scene, so I ran upstairs in a surge of delight – calling to find her – and there she was, standing at the head of the bed changing the sheets. I entered the bedroom smiling with my arms outstretched and, laughing, tried to lift the hem of her pleated skirt just as I saw my father do in that other house on the other side of the river. I do not recall if my father had followed or if he saw this scene, only that my mother smiled in a puzzled fashion, ran her hands down her legs to her knees, took my hand and led me downstairs to the kitchen where she checked the progress of the different elements of the lunch. For in spite of herself, she was a very good cook and the ritual of those beautiful meals proved the high point of our existence at that time.
The events of that Sunday morning long ago when my father took me to the narrow house with the dark staircase by the river only came back to me as a complete memory in adulthood, but in that instant I understood their meaning. I took a strange pleasure in this knowledge that had been newly granted. I understood what kind of house it was and who the “daughters” were. I was grateful that my father had taken me there, and from then on I could only continue to wonder at what else this clue might reveal of my parents’ lives, and of my own nature

I found this piece beautifully written and very moving.  As the year has turned I think I find myself like the author- thinking back with some pain at how sometimes small events shape our lives and personalities.  And wondering what I could have done to have shaped better memories for my own children

Fit for a Queen: first sight of barge to lead Diamond Jubilee river pageant | News

Fit for a Queen: first sight of barge to lead Diamond Jubilee river pageant | News:

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Training for the New Year

http://spitalfieldslife.com/2011/11/02/anjum-ishtaq-heba-womens-project/


Anyone who is reading this, please help me publicise these wonderful classes run by Anjum! 
Every Saturday morning, learn pattern cutting, basic sewing- how to thread and use your machine- anything in fact.

Only £10 for three hours- local providors charge four times as much!

Queen appoints traditionalist as new chaplain | Christian News on Christian Today

Queen appoints traditionalist as new chaplain | Christian News on Christian Today:

Father Paul's badge 

With Mary after Mass on Christmas Day

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