Album of the Day: Black Sabbath - Paranoid#
I came close to taking my traditional approach to metal albums: DO NOT LISTEN, or at least bail at the earliest opportunity. I was interested in War Pigs though, and so let this play out. My ears pricked up further with Paranoid. It's one of those songs that you listen and hear out of routine, rather than trying to appreciate it as a song on its own. Paranoid is everywhere. It's almost wallpaper music now, such is the familiarity. The album wasn't as heavy as I feared, and even had moments of melody. Planet Caravan stood out for the tune, if not the title. I lasted until track 6. I probably won't play this again, and certainly wouldn't buy it. But nowhere as bad as I was fearing.
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The plan for today was
Operation Avoid Royal Nonsense. There. I've said it. And so I disappeared for a bicycle ride, and preferably one that was as long as possible. The broad aim was to hit the Essex coast. I loaded up a route on my Beeline that would take me towards Dovercourt. We've been there once before. It was nothing great, a little bleak if truth be told. But I'm a sucker for the seaside.
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I rolled out deliberately at 11am, just as all the Royal crap was kicking off. This meant that the roads were deserted. I was reminded of the early weeks of the first lockdown. I passed one other solo cyclist on the run in to the coast. We both exchanged a cheeky smile, knowing that we were probably riding for the same Republican reasons.
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I caught the lone figure of a scarecrow keeping watch in one of the freshly ploughed fields. He looked very realistic. I looked up again and 'Ol Worzel was moving. Oh. It wasn't a scarecrow but the farmer.
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I arrived at Dovercourt. The outdoor roller skating rink was open (hurrah!) but the amusement arcade wasn't. There was a little activity along the front with other cyclists and dog walkers. I paused to eat my homemade flapjack that had been carried in my cycling jersey pocket in some tuppaware. It was lightly warmed up from my body heat.
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I pressed on towards Frinton. This route was a dog's leg that hugged the coastline. I had some blind optimism that maybe the ACE Frinton second hand record shop would be open. It wasn't. And neither was anything else. The whole bloody town was closed for the day.
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The third and final leg of the ride was the run in back to base. I was starting to stray outside of my usual cycling comfort zone. I had to stop with about 15km remaining for some water and a little stretch. I had an extra kick and made it back to Weird Wiv. 80km in total. Not bad.
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Operation Avoid Royal Nonsense continued into the early evening. I was booked in for a sunset row with
WivGigs. In order not to upset any of the more patriotic local types, we were officially calling this a 'procession.'
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I admit to skim reading the WhatsApp planning messages for the row. All that I knew was that I needed to be down at the Sailing Club at 5:30pm. It was a surprise therefore to see two boats and two crews preparing to launch. We've got Vauruna on loan for the next six months with a view to buying her. I've already re-christened her Verruca. This hasn't gone down very well.
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We were ambushed a little into raising our oars as a moment of reflection for You Know What as we passed the Quayside boozer.
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I did think of telling a dirty joke to the crew, but decided it was probably best to remain silent.
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Tide and light weren't on our side. We had a new rower with us and so took it easy. We turned around and headed downstream towards the Creek. Verruca feels lighter than Audacity although the oars are bloody heavy. It was good to be out with two crews and have a little social catch up after the recovery session.
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There's some great archive
footage of
Stockwell Bus Garage.
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Bun and Cheese from Clement Irie and Robert French back in 1989. An early dancehall riddim on the Blue Mountain label. Clement Irie is still going strong - still recording, still representing 🔥🔥
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