Oh Joy. An FoI prompt to start Thursday. I've been a little light of touch on the FoI front of late. It shows in my current reduced output of stories for Buzz. But I submitted an FoI to Lambeth last month asking about the de-briefing minutes for the 2022 Country Show. These often throw up a few stories, not to mention eye openers as to what took place behind the scenes. The statutory timeframe has passed, no response. "Dear Lambeth Council..."
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Each time my phone pings with a news alert these days my heart skips a beat. You fear for the worst, expecting imminent armageddon. I've had three BBC alerts already before breakfast. Yes, the news agenda is bleak. But the medium is the message. Imagine having a smartphone during the Cuban missile crisis. >settings >notifications >mute
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Most of the morning was spent on work calls. My wfh specs are a hideous cheapo pair of thick black rims, with white temples. I look like a cross between Elton John and Deidre Barlow. I was struggling to read the presentation being shared on screen without them. I had to reach for the specs. I should have captured a screen grab to show the reaction of my collagues.
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The Postman Delivers: Another Weller CD, A Kind Revolution from 2017? He's been on such a fine run of form over the past decade that I lose track of the almost annual release. I'm just missing his debut solo release and Fat Pop from last year to complete the CD set. Ah. Weller has just
announced another compilation coming out later next month.
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An email from the gym dropped. They might have to turn off the Essex Racist Spa due to the cost of living shit. It will be no great loss, tbh.
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Album of the Day: Steve Winwood - Arc of a Diver#
A classic 80's sound with keyboards and a squeaky clean production to match. Which is a shame as Winwood's voice is more suited to something a little more authentic. There are some great songs in here waiting to be set free. But the music doesn't match the emotion. Night Train has a nice groove going on. A hint of what was to come.
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I was booked in for the Thursday lunchtime social row. Some Halloween shit is already starting to appear around he bottom of the village. Or maybe it's just Weird Wiv scary tat that is left out all year round? It's incredibly early if it is Halloween themed.
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Another clothing malfunction followed. I was convinced it was going to be chilly putting in the strokes up and down our Beautiful River. It wasn't; it was more like a midsummer row. I was wearing tights and my winter rowing club jacket.
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It was a chatty crew. Sometimes I don't mind, other occasions and it just gets on my tits. This afternoon was a getting on my tits type of experience. It's a stunning, serene and quit estuary. The experience isn't bettered by having constant banter as you row up and down.
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I had a few aches in my hands and so wasn't as strong as usual. We did a few race start practices. Soon we were motoring. I looked up and we had made it as far downstream as the Wick.
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Back at base and Alexa has been taking a hammering in recent days with The Great Rock 'n' Roll Swindle. We've just discovered the Max Bygraves version of You Need Hands. Malcolm McLaren's piss take would win a cover to cover comparison hands down.
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I put in a cheeky offer of £15 for a pair of Vivo Barefoots on eBay. The rejection ping came back almost instantly. If you don't ask...
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The Estuary Wilds afternoon sun was too strong to resist. I procrastinated on more important matters and rolled out for a brief bicycle ride on the roadie. I was wearing the luminous gilet that has a built in front and back LED light system. It's spectacular, and also utterly ridiculous.
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I had provisional plans to try and get a Covid shit booster at Elmstead. There's currently a walk in and get jabbed system taking place. The queue was about a dozen long. I continued on with my bicycle ride.
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There was some amazing autumnal colour displays taking place in the hedgerows around the Estuary Wilds. The palette changed from lush green to a crisp red in a five metre or so stretch. The late afternoon sun was the backdrop to radiate all the nature shit.
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I passed some of the new developments outside of Elmstead. It's impressive that the architecture has a hat tip to the old Victorian cottages a little further up along the dual carriageway. Rather than an out of the box design, the intricate brickwork mirrors the local tradition from a Century or more earlier.
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A work survey had to be completed by the end of the day. I was disappointed to see that I am now in the higher percentile for age declaration. Gilles Peterson cheered me up with a Joey DeFrancesco tribute. His Hammond organ version of
Thriller was a treat.
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We made a little progress bingeing on Andor. It's a slow burner, for sure. I had to read a few reviews before deciding not to bail. The general consensus was stick with it. Let's see.
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We ended Thursday by arguing about new front doors. Phew. Rock 'n' Roll.
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