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Showing posts from November, 2012

Up the Elephant

Tramping the streets of south east London for the past two weekends has given me more, vital, intelligence about London - my adopted home city of the past seventeen years. Myself and a friend have been looking at what could be potentially possible - at a push - as a property purchase. I apologise for the p alliteration - perhaps I should add that most of it so far has seemed like one big piss-take as we have trawled through the poverty of pockets of south-east inner London. If London are the trousers, then these are not even the pockets, which are deep and baggy, but that which we find at the far corners: the old tissues and detritus.

What could be had for £250,000 - a quarter of a million pounds - in this capital of ours? Try a council flat in an eyesore of a block on a monster of an estate just minutes walk from the Elephant. And not just a monster of an estate, but an area that holds totalitarian type block after block after block of utter depression. All off the Walworth Road: Be…

The Blindfold / James Bond

I'm reading The Blindfold by Siri Hustvedt. I read her great novel, 'What I Loved' in July 2008, whilst staying for a week in the Ribble Valley in the aftermath of my Mum's death. The Blindfold is nowhere near as long but just as intelligently written and structured. I'm not far from the end and it reminds me of an edgier Bell Jar, by Plath. Mental illness of the main woman, a literature student, is the story - or is it the Jungian 'creative illness' in which she seeks, through male cross-dressing to exemplify Freud's theories of male envy?

I went to see the latest James Bond - SkyFall - last week and I loved it. It was nowhere near as sexist as its predecessors, thanks to director Sam Mendes, and of course the writer, whose name escapes me, but who co-wrote Scorcese's Hugo. I also detected much anti-imperialist subtext - or was it a reconciliation with an imperialist past? One line goes something like. 'we don't fight countries any more - …