The Gracchus and Brexit and political murder
The Gracchus would have supported Brexit. Hell yeah.
REPOST from June 2016 but more relevant than ever following the dragging of poor Jo Cox into the Brexit debate.
Some thoughts about the referendum as we move into the last few days.
It's a strange atmosphere - after months of getting pummelled, Leave had started to pull away from Remain. I watched as poll after poll starting giving the 'right' result, hardly believing what I was seeing, crossing my fingers so as not to jinx the result. And then a madman murderers a remain MP and - though the facts are hazy - seems to be right-wing nut.
Let's just say straight off - and this isn't pro-forma bullshit - as a democrat and patriot - this act, like the murders in the recent past - Airy Neave, Ian Gow and Sir Anthony Berry - takes a little bit of our soul, our democracy. It steals something from all us. Like tribunes in Ancient Rome - elected to serve and counter-balance the patrician Senate - MP's work for and represent us and should be inviolate. Jo Cox seems to have been liked by all who met her. Additionally she leaves behind a husband, three children and many friends and constituents who will all now miss her.
But, she was obscure and I think I probably disagree with most things she espoused. Terrible and tragic though her murder was, we have an important decision to make on Thursday. The affairs of a great nation shouldn't turn on emotionality, even in 2016. No amount of shroud waving and mawkish sentimentality can put this decision off, nor, if Jo was half the great democrat I'm sure she was - should we.
Politics is passionate and better when, verbally, the gloves are off and arguments get aired and debated. I have no tolerance for 'safe spaces', for passive-aggressive diatribes against tone, subject matter or 'the science is settled' closing-down mechanisms. Fuck that. If Farage wants to talks about immigration let him. If Osborne and Cameron want to bull-shit about WW3 and financial armageddon, then be my guest. If Will Straw and the Remain campaign want to get in the dirt and use a dead woman to shut down their opponents arguments then, tasteless and base as they are, go for it but be prepared to be called out on it.
As ever, Rome provides many illustrative examples from the Gracchus Brothers, to the clashes between the generals of the later republic, the bread and circuses of the Julio-Claudians onwards, the lassitude of the third century, the grit of the Danubian Emperors, the re-invention under Diocletian and Constantine. It was often violent and not pretty. We've - hopefully - lost the murderous end-game, but, nutters aside, kept the passion
So calls for restraint and civilised debate should always be viewed with a sceptical eye. If not physical or murderous - and please don't debase this threshold - then argue away. Why curtail free-speech, should always be the question. Who benefits from shutting down debate? Who gets shut out? Arguments need to be tested on merit, not locked away.
As I've quoted before, I think the most realistic song on politics is The Who's 'Won't Get Fooled Again'. Unlike most political songs it's written from the standpoint of the powerless, the little person observing that the heat of political battle is often just froth (for them). Things just have a habit of working out.
I pick up my guitar and play // just like yesterday// and get on my knees and pray// We don't get fooled again // Meet the new boss // Same as the old boss
Anyway, the debate is screwed up currently. Hopefully, the good sense of the British people will see past the tragic murder of an MP - who was a mother and politics professional, who had dodgy views - and make a decision.
I almost wrote informed there. But informed is not where we're at. It's in the instinct, the gut; this is no technocratic X in a box. This is about YOU as a person.
I will return to this.
RIP Jo Cox
Tim
NEIL DIAMOND – SOLITARY MAN (1966)
Belinda was mine, until the time that I found her - holding Jim. Loving him.
And Sue came along, loved me strong, that’s what I thought.
Me and Sue. But that died too.
In the 1990’s I wrote a novel called ‘Neil Diamond’s Beard’. I employed this slightly off kilter title to try and grab the attention of the Henry and Henrietta’s who work as the gatekeepers of publishing companies. Of course, if I had been serious about success I should have called it – ‘My Dad was Head of Publishing at Random House’ – but to me the Neil Diamond reference was more than quirky. It was personal. This ruse didn’t work, of course. The book remains a great, lost piece of literary history.
Back in the early 1990’s, you can’t imagine how unpopular Neil Diamond was. He struck fewer chords with the rock establishment than a benefit gig for child molesters. Being a Neil fan in those days was the definition of walking the hard yards. Cool kids would ignore you, girls would laugh at you; friends just shake their heads and wonder where it all went wrong.
But Neil was worth the withering condescension, the social ostracism. I suppose in a way my book title - referencing Neil - was a statement of defiance. Sometimes in life – as Huey Lewis sort of said – it’s more hip to be square. He was so out, I liked him, so fuck you and feel my inner strength. A bit like Abba. Now in the Smiths-Bunnymen-Jesus and Mary Chain world of the late 80’s university, this made my fellow students view me with suspicion; “See that guy? He just asked for Cracklin’ Rosie!” But, unlike St Peter, I never hid or denied my like of Neil or Abba. In these post Mama Mia and 12 Songs times, where a more balanced viewpoint is taken of both artists, I do feel somewhat vindicated.
But why did I call my first proper novel, Neil Diamond’s Beard? There are two reasons. Firstly, The Jazz Singer. Yes, it’s an update of a 20’s classic. Yes, it was Neil’s first and last film. Yes, Larry Olivier hams his way through it like a leg of pork in the window of a tapas bar off Las Ramblas. But, but, it does have some good songs in it (Love on the Rocks, obviously, but America’s pretty good too). Not only this, but there’s a scene where Neil’s rock star character goes off the rails, abandons his girlfriend and baby and lives like a bum in rural America, scratching a living as a singer/guitarist in small town bars. He wears the Stetson. He wears the boots. He wears the cool 70’s shades. And he grows a beard. So, what? Well, it could be argued that the beard was Neil’s character’s physical manifestation of inner turmoil, of being a man on the loose, a man being, well, a man.
This defiance (misogyny, stupidity, whatever) does have its attractive side, an appeal that makes cutting your nose off to spite your face seem heroic. So, I called my book, which dealt with male issues and was a nascent cri de coeur, Neil Diamond’s Beard. Yeah. Let’s hope the second reason is better, Tim.
Reason two, and the ostensible purpose of this article, is the song Solitary Man. This was Neil Diamond’s first hit in the US. For years he’d been a Tin Pan Alley songwriter, hustling songs around the Brill Building and not really getting anywhere. Finally though, in 1966, dressed in black, he was signed as an artist by Bang records. (Pedants note – he also wrote Daydream Believer for the Monkees at the same time. That can’t have hurt.)
Being born in 1968 - I know, I know I’m timeless - I didn’t hear Solitary Man until much, much later. Late 80’s in fact. By that time I already loved Sweet Caroline, Cracklin’ Rosie, Song Sung Blue – the obvious ones. But hearing a live version of Solitary Man for the first time on a compilation tape of his other hits was a revelation. I suppose it was the combination of minor chords in the verse breaking out into a major chord chorus that was appealing. Light and shade. Night and day. Contrast. Trombones. Whatever.
The song structure is quite a complex one and, certainly for a guy who was nicknamed Eadae by his band (loads of Neil songs at one point – like Cherry Cherry - use the E-A-D-A-E chord structure), it was a surprising but welcome find. But more particularly, there’s the title itself and the worldview it represents: Solitary Man. Now that sounds interesting, I thought. The lyrics are relentlessly downbeat; all about a guy’s struggle to find and hold a relationship but beset on all sides by hordes of fickle women who are waiting just to dump him and get off with his mates. Along with perhaps I Am…I Said the verses in Solitary Man contain some of Neil’s most personal and introspective lyrics.
But then we get to the chorus… Here Neil says it’s all right; until he meets the right girl he’s still got himself. He can be who he is – a ‘solitary man’. Powerful stuff! We can all rally around the flag on that one. It could even be argued that Neil is singing about self-empowerment (You go, girl!), but I like to think that he’s groping towards the fully formed libertarianism of his later song The Boat That I Row:-
There ain’t men alive who can tell me what to say. I choose my own side and I like it that way.
Now the best version of Solitary Man – I think – is the live take from Neil Diamond Gold (Not Stages or the overrated Live at the Greek but the live album of early songs Uni put out as a spoiler when Bang released a Best of compilation just after Neil changed labels). This live version is even more moody than the recorded take; Neil and a female backing singer harmonise perfectly and replicate with vocals the studio record’s trombone part. The effect is – well – slightly Jewish to be honest, a good decade before he explored this more fully in The Jazz Singer film. Whatever Neil summoned up on stage that night in Hollywood is audio gold. Worth a listen.
Although it’s not the best-known Neil Diamond song, other artists have covered Solitary Man occasionally. B.J. Thomas (of Raindrops Keep Fallin’ On My Head fame) did an organ heavy cover in 1969 that is well worth a listen. Chris Isaacs’ version was MOR crap and best avoided. Norwegian Goth Metal band HIM did a spikey version with heavy guitars, which is interesting. It is said, perhaps maliciously, that my group Shambolic murdered the song back in the 90’s playing dive bars in Brighton. Not true; Solitary Man is robust enough to withstand this sort of attack. So; Solitary Man – Neil Diamond’s first hit, lots of trombones and those moody chords and lyrics. What’s not to like? Neil - you’re a legend!
BTW - good luck Neil fighting Parkinsons. It’s a fucker of a disease which destroys lives to a relentless and grim drumbeat. You fight Frogking.
London Walks : A Guide
Too many people just get on a tube and so miss overland London. The stories, the streets, the layout. The full pie and mash.
So I started writing a series of articles recently about London Walks that I enjoy. Reading them you get some history, walk past some landmarks, learn some obscure stuff, and most definitely find some great pub recommendations. All are illustrated with some great pictures taken along the route!
To remind ourselves, here are links to the various walks:
St James's - Haymarket to Victoria Station
Lavender Hill - Up and down this Battersea highway
London Bridge Circular - Old and new London
Harrods to Victoria Station - Belgravia, mews and embassies. Hidden pubs.
Look out for some new walks coming soon!
Laters
Julian: The Great or The Apostate?
Julian - notice ‘Greek’ facial hair
Julian and his wicked cousin Constantius
(Here Tim discusses fourth century Roman history. Note, at this time, the Empire was well used to having more than one Emperor with often a senior (Augustus) and junior (Caesar).)
The Emperor Constantius II was a right bastard. For example, the massacre of the princes - where he killed off his male relatives in Constantinople during a family gathering following the death of his father Constantine The Great in 337 - was just the sort of ‘real’ history that gives Game of Thrones legitimacy.
One nephew that survived the cull was Julian. A bookish and pious prince, he was spared because he was so young and, well, a bit of a nerd. But ten years later - following the overthrow of Western emperor Constans – cousin Constantius needed a partner to share in the burden of the imperial purple. Turning first to Gallus, Julian's older brother – who he later killed - Constantius eventually elevated Julian into the family business as Caesar of the West in 355.
Caesar in Gaul
Here, in Gaul, the boy became a man. After kicking some serious German butt at The Battle of Strasbourg and other conflicts, Julian became popular with his legions. Cousin Constantius became jealous and there followed lots of 'come and have a go if you think you're hard enough' correspondence between the two emperors until Julian marched East at the head of an army in 361. And then – miraculously - Cousin Constantius died suddenly leaving young Julian the sole master of the Roman world. What to do?
Sole Emperor
Well, what Julian did - in his brief two year reign – was attempt to turn the clock back on Christianity and try to re-establish the old gods. You know, get rid of all this Christian rubbish legitimised by his uncle Constantine. He also thought Persia was up for a bit of Roman steel and so marched off deep into the Sassanian Empire, never to return. Killed by a random spear, Julian left his troops miles from safety on the Euphrates and in the feeble hands of his short-lived successor Jovian. Ultimately, on religion and war, he must be judged a failure.
So why do I tell the story of Julian the Apostate?
Can one man change history?
Well, unlike his uncle Constantine (the Great), he only had 2 years to make his mark. Constantine had 31 – with the 13 years in sole charge of the Empire. Constantine changed the course of history. Julian however flamed out quickly and his successors Valentinian, Valens and Theodosius reaffirmed the Christian hegemony (give or take the odd Arian, or semi Arian, heresy). Julian was an anomaly in Western history where Constantine looms large but Julian does not.
Can one person change the course of history? Or – as in this case – a solitary spear? What if Julian had lived and reigned twenty years? Would he have quashed Christianity and reduced it into a cult, one of many, like Isis, Mithra or Sol Invictus, that bubbled around in the later Roman Empire? It’s possible that Christianity could have gone underground only to re-emerge stronger, much as it did during the persecution of Diocletian sixty years earlier. It’s impossible to say. It’s a little like powerful newspapers; do they lead opinion or merely reflect it?
What’s of interest though for those who seek parallels in history, who look for patterns to help with understanding the present day, is the theory that there are turning points – yes kings and emperors – but social, religious, military too, that alter the course of history. The trick is to spot whether events have produced a Constantine the Great or a Julian The Apostate.
Read more 4th century history as I discuss the five landmark battles that defined this climatic era in Roman history.
Or maybe read all my Roman articles - from Hannibal to Theodosius.
The Devil's Margarita
Come and have a go if you think you’re hard enough.
Discovered a new drink this week; The Devil’s Margarita.
Fresh lime juice, sugar syrup and tequila, shaken with ice, poured into a glass with a topping of red wine.
The red wine floats on top.
What’s not to like?
This advert has been brought to you courtesy of 2-1 cocktails down in South London.
I thank you.
Savage - Eurythmics (Song Review)
“She said, “I have this unhappiness
To wear around my neck
It’s a pretty piece of jewellery
To show what I protect.”
You fall into patterns within relationships so very easily. You assume roles within the couple’s dynamic - what you do, what you believe and what you enthuse about. It’s kind of a domestic shorthand that describes, but soon imprisons, the full richness of each other’s personality.
With me, I’ve always been the ‘music’ guy. My girlfriends have pretty much been less interested in music than me. It is my thing. I know what year a song came out, who played on it and who wrote it. Whilst there are women who are every bit as obsessive in this area, I think it’s safe to say that this lauding of the ephemera of music tends to be a predominantly male trait. This characteristic plays itself out within a relationship by ownership of the playlists, control of the music; a pedantic, but ultimately futile, need to teach, to explain, each and every song. Love of something subjective becomes a dry lesson in the objective. Savage is the honourable exception.
Listening to this slow building song, I’m forever taken back by its gentle rhythm to a time in the late 80’s when life seem optimistic and everything seemed to matter. A shy girl, who loved me, said that I should listen to this track, as it was just the sort of music I’d enjoy. Like all good recommendations this was built from a solid foundation of what that person knew about me and then went off at a tangent. No-one needs to be told something obvious – it’s the unobvious and obscure, the great find, that really chimes within the soul. And so it was with Savage. The gentle girl was right, it is ever one of my favourites.
The slow, ethereal intro frames the piece; with each gentle wave of chords from the keyboard - more breathed than played - you know it’s going to be one of Annie Lennox’s betrayal songs. No one, other than Alison Moyet perhaps, does betrayal better than our Annie. The sparse backing provides a backdrop to some of Annie’s best lines. The images she plays with are disjointed, violent even – the sun displays its teeth - but her words convey a mood rather than any literal meaning. There is a brooding air of savagery hanging over the song, more vivid because it is unexpressed and waiting menacingly in the shadows.
But the Eurythmics were a duo and never more so than on this track. As the tension builds through the first two verses / choruses, a release is needed; all this musical foreplay must have its climax and this is stunningly achieved by a simple - but oh so right - solo from Dave Stewart. It’s as much about the notes that aren’t played as those that are. He puts himself into his guitar and feels his way through his solo. There is an un-80’s rawness in that guitar break, a sullen control, that matches Annie’s lyrics note for note. Other than Graham Coxon’s solo on Blur’s This is A Low, I can’t think of a guitar solo more appropriate, more understanding, of a song than this one.
Annie and Dave produced many great songs – Who’s That Girl, Julia, Here Comes The Rain Again come to mind – but I don’t believe they combine so perfectly than their collaboration on Savage. I wrote earlier about the glad-happy morning of the late 80’s. You can’t choose your time and neither can you control your era’s personal soundtrack. Of course, you filter what you hear through personal choice – which records to buy, which radio stations to listen to – but no one lives in a vacuum. My university days were the late 80’s. When so much of what was popular at the time – Kylie, Stock Aitken and Waterman, house music – retreats into the unopened drawer of memory, I’m happy that the gentle girl with the sad eyes, told me to listen to Savage. There’s a dignity in this evocation, both defiant and tender, that seems appropriate somehow.
The girl’s long gone, of course but I’ll leave it to Annie to provide the postscript:
“She said, “Everything is fiction
All cynic to the bone
So don’t ask me to stay with you
Don’t ask to see me home””
Start the video at 1.30 for a live version of Savage.
REPOST: The Worst Beatles Tracks
Are there bad Beatles songs?
A pretty routine observation I make is that, unlike most artists, you can take any Beatles album and find an abundance of classic songs not released as a single. The sort of songs lesser artists would kill to have. Such was the embarrassment of riches within the Beatles, songs would just stack up and be used as album fodder. Which is why listening to any Beatles album is also such a joy. It’s never a couple of hits bulked out with fillers. With very few exceptions, all of the Beatles output is a consistently high standard, even when they were innovating.
So I thought, I'd compile a list of The Beatles' stinkers. There aren't many. Rules: One per album.
The Worst Beatles Tracks
Abbey Road – Maxwell’s Silver Hammer.
Sorry Paul, it’s drivel.
*Beatles For Sale – Honey Don't.
The Ringo badge of quality is added to this borefest. Carl Perkins also managed to write the second worst song too - Everybody's Trying to Be My Baby.
Hard Day’s Night – I’m Happy Just to Dance With You.
Paul and John did George no favours here by writing this dirge for him. Bizarrely, I covered this in my infamous Great Eastern solo gig in 1992. Knickers were not thrown.
Help! – You Like Me Too Much
Not a classic. George also wrote I Need You on the same album. Also crap.
Let It Be – For You Blue
George donated this derivative toss off to the Get Back project to protect better songs – Something, Here Comes The Sun – from a substandard album. Wise move.
Magical Mystery Tour – Flying
Yes, I know not a proper album. Flying, obviously. The Beatles do lounge music for the MMT film. Aural wallpaper.
Please Please Me – Boys
A Ringo filler. Pair an average singer with an average song and you get a sub average track. Probably worked better live at The Cavern. Or at weddings.
Revolver – Love You To
George and Indian music. Mordant vocals and cod philosophical lyrics to a raga beat. Same album as his fiery and brilliant Taxman.
Rubber Soul – What Goes On
Ringo got a writing credit for this Country and Western song. He should have held out and asked for the rights to Paperback Writer instead.
Sgt Pepper – Within In Without You
Yeah. I really don’t like George’s Indian influenced songs. This one goes on for over five minutes. It feels like it.
White Album – Revolution 9
Of course. John and Yoko's avant garde crap. Unlistenable. Wins the overall gold medal as the worst Beatles track overall. No one listens twice. It really is a fail.
With The Beatles - Little Child
Spirited but a filler. A bit creepy listening decades later.
Yellow Submarine – Only A Northern Song
Sorry George, you again. Trying too hard to be different it just comes across as gauche and dissonant.
Why George?
Looking through the list now, it appears I’m overly critical of some of George Harrison’s contributions. Of all the Beatles, it was fair to say he got better as he got older. His voice, monosyllabic and nasal in 1963, matured by 1969 into a fine instrument. His song writing talents, sometimes okay, sometimes poor, had developed so much that by 1969 that he was able to go toe to toe with John and Paul. And win.
Dirty work but someone's got to do it. Best album tracks next to cheer me up.
Read On / Rock On
What about the best Beatles album tracks? Check out this list.
What about my musical archive? Deep dives, classic rock, underground sounds, Taylor Swift review.
Obvious Notes
*Beatles For Sale - Most critics say 'Mr Moonlight' is not only the worst song on the album but in the Beatles entire recording career. A bit harsh, I think. It's not a classic admittedly and the cheesy organ that George Martin adds doesn't help, and yet, and yet, I'm a fan of John Lennon's shouty voice going for big notes (Anna, Baby It's You, Happiness is a Warm Gun). Ironically Lennon's vocals were best demonstrated on the track they left off Beatles For Sale 'Leave My Kitten Alone' - now available on Anthology 1.
I'm liking Tulsi Gabbard.
American primary season is upon us. Order the popcorn and sit back! This election cycle, it’s the Democrats who are tearing lumps out of each other. Their ridiculously large field of candidates makes the 17 Republicans Trump put to the sword four years ago seem positively miniscule. At the last count there were about four hundred and twenty two Democrats with their hat in the ring to be their party’s presidential nominee. In fact, I’m not sure there isn’t even a write in campaign for Tim Robson.
Given the continual resistance against Trump since November 2016 - in the media, in Congress, in the courts, on social media, one would imagine that all the Democrats needed to do is select a half decent moderate candidate, avoid saying anything stupid and the 2020 race is in the bag.
However, it appears the Democrats have decided to go another way. Yes, they’ve boarded the clown car to unelectable far leftism and pumped the pedal as far as it goes. Apart from Biden, the front runners - Warren, Sanders, Booker, Harris are all streaking down the back-straight in a race to be the most voter repelling radical. It’s an unedifying spectacle. Add to this the media focus on AOC and the other three unlovely members of ‘The Squad’ and one might collude that the centrist - and election winning - party of JFK and Bill Clinton was dead.
Because, there’s a place for a centre left party in America. One that looks after normal patriotic ‘middle class’ Americans who want to work hard, save and put their kids through college. Trump captured this forgotten ‘middle class’ in 2016. They’re not Republicans but he spoke to them about putting jobs and the US first. But, seemingly the Dems have learnt nothing from their 2016 defeat. Apparently it was the Russians. Therefore, they continually bang on about open borders, free healthcare for illegal immigrants, transgender rights and third trimester abortions.
All arguable positions perhaps, but, as Bill Clinton’s successful campaign in ‘91 proved, ‘it’s the economy, stupid!’. Take the rhetoric and tweets away from Trump and underneath there’s solid successes. The US economy is roaring ahead and this rising tide is proving uncomfortable for Democrats as the people who are benefitting, in record numbers, are their own supposed client base - blacks, hispanics, women. One would have thought the Democrats would notice this and try and offer something to the middle classes other than futile attempts to subvert the electoral process and impeach the president.
The CNN debate last week was divided into two so as to accommodate all the vast horde of candidates. Everyone got their chance to perform their crazy dance in the spotlight. Four years ago the Republicans were more ruthless but better organised - they had a primetime debate consisting of the leading candidates and an undercard of the no-hopers. The Dems should try to emulate this.
Anyway in the second debate, the strident and not very likeable Kamala Harris was pitched against Joe Biden. She’d duffed him up pretty disgracefully in the first debate with some low blows by essentially calling him a racist. Quite despicable. I remember her in the Brett Kavanaugh hearings being similarly disreputable. What an awful, virtual signalling and humourless woman! A machine politician if ever there was one. And how very typical she’s a (self declared) top tier candidate in today’s Democratic Party.
And then step forward Tulsi Gabbard, the Democratic congresswoman from Hawaii. She’s a familiar sight to Republicans as she - unlike most elected Democrats - actually goes onto Fox News for interviews. She seems to hold the rather radical notion that to get elected you have to appeal to broad swathes of people who don’t necessarily agree with you. She’s also an ex soldier with tours of duty in Iraq. This means she abhors war and wants to avoid them at all cost. I supported Ron and Rand Paul over this very issue in the past and Trump’s instincts (if not always reality) are anti war. I have a lot of time for her point of view. She’s also pretty easy on the eye too which doesn’t hurt.
But back to the debate. Kamala Harris was virtue signalling versus Biden again when the moderator brought in Tulsi. And in the next minute or so Gabbard tore Harris a new one and bitchslapped her into oblivion. She questioned Harris’ record as California Attorney General, brought up hypocrisies and scandals (though not the ‘how did Camilla get started’ scandal). Unprepared and caught off guard Harris blustered but you could see in her face and posture she’d been owned on live TV. A delicious moment where a dreadful bully got the beat down she deserved.
Go Tulsi! Although Trump supporters are loyal to their Donald, they could probably live with her as Commander in Chief.
And isn’t that really what democracy is about? It’s not the winning that matters, it’s the grace in defeat that is essential for a civil society to function. And I’m hoping that whosoever wins next time, the losers will accept the defeat. The Democrats have behaved disgracefully this time around. I don’t want that to happen again. Let’s step back from the edge.
That’s why I’m backing Tulsi in the Democratic primaries.
See video below. Tulsi comes in at 3:40 after Harris talks her poison against Biden.
On Carbon Reduction
I worked out the other day, it’s been almost five years since I last took a flight. Yes, five long years.
It was to Barcelona. And back. Of course.
What an eco hero I am. I mean, environmentalism, carbon reduction, I don’t virtue signal it, I live it. Extinction rebellion wankers? Yeah, middle class poseurs who all take eight flights a year and then preach and annoy the rest of us about - I dunno - Al Gore’s polar bear’s arse or something.
I’m a natural small c conservative. Here is our credo:
Reduce
Recycle
Reuse
High minded theories - like the left in general - do tend to rely on ‘do as I say and not as I do’. Same rules apply here. Same rules apply.
London Walks 3: The Haymarket to Victoria Station
The Mall looking towards Admiralty Arch
(All photos Tim Robson May 2019)
I was stood on The Haymarket a few weeks ago, slightly confused. It was busy and buses and tourists passed in front of me as I tried to recollect where exactly American Express’ old offices used to be. I mean I should know this. I used to go there all the time. Damn it! I’d even closed the bloody office down and moved all the staff kicking and screaming to Blackfriars.
And yet I wasn’t sure.
Back in the day (the ‘day’ being mid 90’s) I used to come to the Haymarket all the time. Unlike my lazier colleagues, I walked between Victoria Station and The Haymarket. They took the taxi. I still do this walk now when possible. On your own two feet you get to know a city better than stuck in a traffic jam. It’s healthier and better for the environment. And they call me a Climate Change denier! I’m green but not red children.
Heading down the Haymarket from Piccadilly Circus take the first right onto Jermyn Street. Now Jermyn Street is probably my favourite street in London. For those that don’t know, it’s packed full of high end men’s shops - shirts, suits, shoes, barbers, colognes; cheeses even. There’s even a couple of pubs for you to stop and review your purchases.
And Fortnums. Never been in, to be honest. Well… There was that one time.
Jermyn Street is primarily known for its shirt shops. Nothing demonstrates more the casualisation of work clothing over the last twenty years than the decline in my purchases of posh shirts. I used to have a wardrobe stuffed full of them - Pinks, Charles Thywhitt and the branded suits and heavy silk ties that completed the banker-wanker look. No more. Now I’m all polo necks and polo shirts. So whereas once I would walk along Jermyn Street looking for bargains, now I pleasantly uninvolved.
Never miss The Three Crowns pub though.
I do occasionally pop into Church’s shoes. To look around obviously. No spare half a grand lying around in chez Robson for footwear these days. I’ve bought some of their shoes in the past and, in a velvet bag in the garage, I still have a sleek pair of black Oxfords I wheel out for formal occasions. Seems so 2000’s.
Jermyn Street; a pissed Big Issue seller lies amidst Jones and Church’s shoe shops. Maybe he’s saving for a new pair?
One shop I always pop into and frequent online is Taylors of Old Bond Street. Yes, on Jermyn Street. Don’t ask. I’ve used their Sandalwood aftershave for about 20 years. Yes, ladies, that is the manly and yet fragrant smell you can’t place and yet can’t get enough of! If you like male scents and potions, soaps and shampoos, razors and creams, this is a great shop to spend some time. Tell them Tim sent you and ask - no insist! - for a ten percent discount.
Shaving brushes and stuff. Lots of sandalwood smells.
At the end of Jermyn Street, turn left and walk down St James’s Street past wine merchants, cigar shops, high end restaurants and private members clubs. “What club are you a member of, Tim” I hear you ask. I stare at you for a second or two, shake my head and move on.
Under the St James’s Palace’s arch, across the Mall (look up, look down) and then into St James’s Park. It’s small but perfectly formed. Follow the path down to the bridge on the lake. Get your phone out for one of those iconic shots looking towards Whitehall / Horse Guards Parade.
Iconic London photo.
People; I’ve had my times in St James’s Park. I remember there was this French girl I was keen on, years and years ago. Unprompted, she invited me for a walk one lunchtime. “Wow - she likes me!” I thought. As we walked around this beautiful park - it was summer and the skies were blue and all was well with the world as I tried to pluck up the courage to ask her out - she proceeded to tell me how she’d secretly got engaged to some other bloke. FFS. But I also remember another night with another lady - also in St James’s Park - but that, dear readers, shall be a story that remains untold in a public forum. Well, I may have weaved it into one of my best selling books with a thinly disguised character who resembles me reenacting what happened that night near the kids’ playground. In St. James’s Park. Always classy.
Out of the park, along Birdcage Walk and for the tourists amongst you, past Buckingham Palace. I usually cross over at this point and walk on the right hand side of Buckingham Palace Road. Queen’s Gallery, side entrances, back doors.
Traffic outside Buckingham Palace
A little diversion I’ve started taking on my way back to Victoria Station is via Victoria Square, a quiet oasis of pretty houses and a quiet green space hidden just yards away from the bustling A3214. A shimmer and a twist and you get to The Goring Hotel. Maybe some refreshment in plush surroundings? Yeah, why not; I’m worth it. Its expensive but pretty cool. Freebie posh nuts with your Gin and Tonic. A place for a secret rendezvous perhaps. Fortified you’re ready for the push to Victoria Station and, invariably, home to the South Coast.
Give it go. Either way. It’s the best of London, you know.
And thence to Victoria Station via Buckingham Palace Road. I worked in this area for years. It was my manor (guv?). It’s been a building site for years and only now is it finally taking shape. So it’s all changed from my days of suits and ties and - probably - thinning hair. There’s new buildings, new shops, a whole new workforce grabbing sandwiches to eat al desko and fresh batches of tourists always changing, always the same. Always in the way.
Pigeons. Victoria Station.
Haymarket to Victoria. Or Victoria to Haymarket. Try this walk. You get to see lots of London sights, experience much, stop for a bite or drink, or both or neither. Whatever. Great in summer, bracing in winter, charming in Spring but best in Autumn. It’s Tim’s Haymarket to Victoria nostalgia trip. Roll up. Roll up.
To see other London Walks - click here.
TOP 10 80's POP Songs
Here it - you asked for it - so I stand and deliver. Oh, dear, that’s a bad start. Suffice to say, Adam nor his ants will appear on this list (though I have a soft spot for Prince Charming, to be honest).
The only rule for this list - I had to like it at the time. You know, in the actual 80’s. And still like it now. It’s a high hurdle I set but let’s limber up and hope we don’t crash into the bar too much.
Ashes to Ashes - David Bowie (1980)
Scary, arty, new romantic cool! I remember watching this on Top of Pops with that weird and compulsive video. That strange dance on the beach, the odd costumes, the backhanded reference to Major Tom. This kicked off the decade and took it in a glamorous direction after the punk and rock of the 70’s. And the sound ain’t bad either!
Vienna - Ultravox (1981)
Cruelly kept off Number 1 by an annoying one hit wonder, this was a classy song with a kick-ass video. What’s not to like? Midge Ure wandering around Covent Garden and - yes - Vienna - in a mac with pointy sidies. Peak New Romantic but staying just the right side of pretentious. Epic song, with hypnotic piano, swelling strings and the suggestion of something mysterious, something foreign, something tragic. Still never been to Vienna.
Under Attack - Abba (1982)
Abba’s sad swan song. It did nothing in the charts and the group faded away after this. Very late-era Abba, synths, electric bass, treated vocals, I first heard this at Rochdale roller ring early 1983. it has stuck with me ever since.
To France - Mike Oldfield (1983)
Updated folk for the 80’s generation. I remember hearing the song - strangely enough - in France, sat in the back of my parents car as we drove around Brittany Probably in the rain. Maggie Reilly’s voice and the folky / medieval feel and subject matter make this an ethereal postcard from a vanished age. That age being my youth. I often return to this song when I want a good song to cook to, when I’m writing, when I want to imagine being young again.
Relax - Frankie Goes to Hollywood (1983)
Frankie Says… Well, if you don’t know what Frankie Says, you weren’t there. Frankie had three massive hits in 1984. They were all over the year like a rash. I got my mum to buy this single on one of her Saturday shopping trips to Rochdale. I remember being in Spain 1984 and all you could hear in the discos (yes, I said discos not clubs) was either Relax or Two Tribes in one of their many, many, 12 inch varieties. Obviously Trevor Horn created the vibe, the driving beat, and there was a shocking amount of Paul Morley ZTT inspired marketing, but, this was an era defining sound.
It’s about sex, isn’t it?
Madonna - Like A Virgin (1984)
Oh yeah! Something about time and place gets this one in the top ten. Her singing has matured and so did her production values, but this is where’s it is at. Joyous and dance-able, even for saddos with that bouncy synth beat, it calls out thirty odd years later. But to really experience it you need to be 16 and walking into a Rochdale disco with this pumping out! The smell of cheap perfume, hair spray, cigarettes and alcohol! Nothing better.
Pride - U2 (1984)
God! I loved this song. I love this song. Edge’s eternal guitar playing a special riff, Bono’s vocals, the U2 style drumming. Martin Luther King! The sound of me heading off to the pub in Rochdale for a cheeky 5 pints on Wednesdays in The Grapes or Elephant and Castle. “Are you 18, sonny?” This song is the time and place of who I am and where I came from.
Walk This Way - Aerosmith feat Run DMC (1986)
Seriously - this record still kicks arse. Rap and rock fusion! An alternative pathway which we kinda lost on the way. But boy did it produce one memorable collaboration.
Voyage Voyage - Desireless (1987)
Ah, holiday records. That’s what the 80’s were about. Who could hate Ottowan’s ‘Hands Up, Give Me Your Heart’ or FR David’s seminal ‘Words’. Add Desireless to this trio and we a one-twp-three combination of sublime 80’s French summer Euro pop. Voyage Voyage - I heard this in Benidorm in the summer of 1988 as I perused the city’s art galleries, a fragrant girl in a white dress on my arm as we discussed art and memory. Yeah. Or, maybe it was the soundtrack to being pissed up in one of the town’s clubs trying to buy girls with tattoos and bikini tops rum and cokes. One or the other. Great Euro pop though.
All Around the World - Lisa Stansfield (1989)
How could I not put Lisa Stansfield on the list? If it wasn’t a great song however, I wouldn’t have added it, but it is here on merit. The fact that she went to my school and I knew her slightly are interesting but not clinches. Lisa bookends this decade for me. We were in the school play at the start of the 80’s and she ended the decade at Number One with this song. I remember the feeling of pride when this became a smash. That was before jealousy kicked in. Why had CBS returned my demo?
(Hint: It was shit)
I will probably change my mind in five minutes, but let’s start this way, shall we?
Theresa May : In the Name of God, Go!
I remember the ineffective and slightly ridiculous John Major. I lived through the Brown years where a madman seemingly held the reigns of power. I even stretch back to remembering Ted Heath lose in 1974.
But with Theresa May we have reached an all time low with Prime Ministers in my lifetime.
Britain is a great country and at a time when we need a Churchill or a Thatcher instead we’ve got a weak, craven, humourless and incompetent robot at the helm. She has no backbone meaning the country is repeatedly humiliated by her weakness, her inability to stand up for Britain, her overwhelming need to get a deal, any deal, with the EU.
Where is our Trump? Our Thatcher? Even our own fucking Barnier? Someone with spirit?
Hated by Brexiteers for her useless surrender document that is the Withdrawal Treaty she is also despised by the swivel eyed Remainers for her slavish devotion to her ‘deal’ - a deal nobody wants.
Yes, we need a leader. Someone with vision. Someone who can take the country with them, inspire us through these changes.
And instead we’ve got the unlovely, Theresa May. Remainer. Useless representative of a dreadful political class, asleep at the wheel. Never has Cromwell’s admonishment been more apt :
“Ye sordid prostitutes have you not defil’d this sacred place, and turn’d the Lord’s temple into a den of thieves, by your immoral principles and wicked practices? Ye are grown intolerably odious to the whole nation; you were deputed here by the people to get grievances redress’d, are yourselves gone! So! Take away that shining bauble there, and lock up the doors. In the name of God, go!”
Be Careful What You Wish For...
We should have left the EU today.
The largest and most peaceful democratic vote in British history has resulted in… well what, three years later?
This Hotel California Brexit (You can check out anytime but you can never leave) has now dragged on for so long it has allowed the anti democratic forces of superstate authoritarianism to rise again. They were pushed back briefly but the delay and obstruction has allowed them to slink out of the shadows.
As I’ve warned here before, if you thwart democracy, what is left? Democracy is not a natural state of affairs; history is replete with how humans used to settle their conflicts and none of it was pretty.
But self serving politicians, an incompetent Prime Minister and anti democrats everywhere have conspired to ignore the vote. “The electorate were misled. They didn’t know what they voted for. It was only advisory. It was close. The Russians swayed people’s minds. The electorate are thick. It was a protest vote. Leavers weren’t given a choice of HOW to leave. We should have another referendum now we know more.”
There’s a strain in - mainly left of centre thought - that increasingly cannot accept democratic losses. They are morally virtuous, their enemies are evil and so any ballot box loss is therefore illegitimate. We saw it in the reaction to Brexit, Trump and any ‘populist’ (aka popular, non establishment) win or surge.
But accepting you lost is a defining and necessary characteristic of a democracy. I hate losing but I accept you cannot have a peaceful country without it. Richard Nixon, when faced with evidence that JFK cheated in 1960, chose not contest the result as he knew it would tear society apart. That is Nixon story everyone who writes the narratives these days forgets. But it is the most instructive.
If democracy is denied then the result is violent chaos. To all those MPs who are actively trying to ignore a specific instruction from the country and to those outside who daily try to undermine the 2016 referendum, I say this: be careful what you wish for - human history shows that the line between a peaceful society and bloody war is a narrow one. Do not rush to cross it.
TIM ROBSON
(And I recognise that in our current climate only one opinion is allowed - in work, on social media. But I no longer care. I care more about democracy than I do about remaining silent. Today is bad day for Britain whether you support Remain or Leave.)
Lucie Silvas
Lucie. London December 2018. Picture Tim Robson
A Confession
Occasionally, my judgement is wrong. Sometimes I will admit to these mistakes. Not often. Usually insincerely. But when I’m off and know it - and it doesn’t affect me to confess - I’ll write about it here.
I thought Lucie Silvas’ third album was shit when it came out. Then I saw her in concert last December and I now don’t.
There, got that off my chest.
So, as Lucie has released four albums, and I liked the other three, I now like all of them.
Lucie Who?
Exactly. As I found out at her semi-secret gig recently in London, she’s a bit of a cult. I knew I was a longtime member of that cult but I didn’t know there were others too. In some ways they looked very much like me - men of a certain age, balding but - let me stress this - the similarity ends there. Didn’t realise she had such a large gay following. I suppose it was obvious really - a big voiced, attractive blonde who writes about relationships. A 2000’s Judy Garland.
In December, I took my 14 year old daughter to this sweaty Shoreditch cellar to watch Lucie. Her only other experience of live music is Taylor Swift in front of 66,000 in Hyde Park a couple of years back. But I hope she will remember this intimate evening all of her life and look back and remember when she saw the legend that is Lucie. It was a loose, make up the setlist as you go along, evening.
I first came across Lucie on 2005’s Now That’s What I Call Music 60 where Breath In was featured. Breath In is probably her biggest hit and its joyous driving pop song with a gorgeous sing-a-long chorus. It is a breath of fresh air every time I put it on. It’s on my Desert Island Discs and I notice its the 6th most played piece of music I own and the first non classical piece. The album’s pretty good too. Very white soul.
The Same Side - Best Album
Lucie’s high point was her Second Album - The Same Side. As a whole it’s a classic - a big ballad classic but it has a trio of A songs that I always play - Almost, Already Gone and Alone. Already Gone being the perfect rock ballad with a haunting guitar break. And then there’s Passionate You. Clearly Lucie writes on the piano and her tracks often have catchy piano motifs. The title track - The Same Side - is also worth a listen. My favourite Lucie album. Sold about three copies.
Letters to Ghosts, E.G.O
I obviously didn’t listen to enough when it came out. She leaned on it heavily at the gig in December - clearly it’s her personal favourite. Guitar riff heavy Happy is the stand out track followed by the heart tugging ballad Smoke. The title track Letters to Ghosts is good (though better live tbh). And onto E.G.O. which was my fav album of 2018. First Rate Heartbreak with its stop / start riff is the standout track. She played this early and my daughter loved it.
Lucie has a raspy voice that seems to have two gears. She powers out on the low register and you think that maybe she hasn’t got the range for the top notes. But then her higher register kicks in and she hits the notes perfectly. It’s an attractive combination. I often credit Silvas with my gradual shift away from male cock-rocking blues based music to something wider, something more feminine. It was a good change.
She should be more famous.
The video below is a raw, amateur shot version of Breath In but I think it captures something of the fun and involvement of a Lucie concert.
Read on / Rock On
Maybe Taylor Swift Hyde Park Review? Or perhaps some under-rated 60’s tracks?
London Walks : London Bridge / Blackfriars circular
London Bridge - Underground sign
The Southwark Shuffle: Proper London Walk!
Now this is a proper London walk. We take in ‘olde’ London, new shiny London, industrial London, latte sipping beard and tats London. Some history, food, great buildings, bridges, historic boozers. I’m calling this my Southwark Shuffle (for no other reason beyond it’s in Southwark and who doesn’t like alliteration?).
I return to this walk time and again. It’s vibrant area and so the landscape changes in subtle or huge ways at what seems to be an increasing pace. That didn’t always seem to be the case.
Back in the mid 90’s I was doing a Masters degree in property. I may have mentioned this fact before but formative experiences are the most vivid in retrospect. I had a term paper to write where the brief was to work up a development on the South Bank of the Thames. I suggested a mixed leisure and office development in Blackfriars overlooking the river. My professor shook his head at this and said I was talking bollocks, and like some late night pre Uber taxi driver, told me no one wants to go south of the river. Idiot. But who was right mate? Me or him? Yes, Me. That’s who.
But - old scores aside - let’s look at my path for this walk shall we?
Obligatory Crap Map: London Bridge/Blackfriars Circular Walk
Map showing walk from London Bridge to Blackfriars Circular Walk
Now; not every walk has to lurch from pub to pub but it’s rude not to suggest a couple of stopping places along the way. And this walk has great pubs, historic pubs; pubs the conjure the past with each passing pint. We’ll get to that but first, we must have a starting point. And, in this case, it’s also our ending point as this is - wait for it - a circular walk!
London Bridge Station: Starting Point
So, we start at the extensively refurbished London Bridge Station. Guy’s Hospital tower used to be the tallest kid on the block but now, the Shard muscles itself over all it surveys. This redevelopment has kicked off a spate of similar, smaller, innovative designed buildings throughout the area. As far as I can see, the casualties to make way for this frenzy of new build have been crap 50’s and 60’s concrete office blocks. Good.
The George: ancient coaching inn
Walk straight down from the station onto that historic thoroughfare into London, Borough High Street. Opposite is Southwark Cathedral and Borough Market - we’ll get to those later - but for now, you need to turn left heading south. About quarter of mile down the road is one of London’s hidden gems, the galleried ex-coaching in, The George (pictured).
It nestles in a little side street off the main road. This part of London is full of alleyways and passages and it’s possible to cross the space time continuum back to Tudor times. I was shown this pub by a lady friend many years ago. Thanks! Its worth this little diversion from our main walk for a picture and maybe a pint (though if you’re drinking this early into the walk it’s all going to get messy. Best to come back here later.)
Old Warehouses Southwark Street
And so with a swift shimmy northwards, we get onto Southwark Street going east-west. About 20 years ago I used to walk to walk down this very street every day so it’s nostalgic but getting less so. It has changed from then to now. This is a street that is, in many respects, unlovely - there are no great landmarks gracing it, the buildings were warehouses and industrial units and now, it hosts increasingly bizarre glass office towers and residential units.
You can still spot some ex-warehouses of Victorian vintage on the street. See the examples in the picture to the left. Now converted to cafes and flats, you can still make out where the pulleys used to haul up goods.
One interesting building is the grade 2 listed ex Mernier chocolate factory which is now a theatre and art gallery of the same name. It’s kind of a stunted, fatter version of the Flat Iron building in New York. It’s probably the best of the old buildings on the Street. You can grab a drink there apparently - I’m guessing some wanky free trade coffee served by a ‘barista’ with a beard. Joy!
Newer, larger and experimental glass buildings are springing up all around Southwark Street but their appearance is welcome; they replaced dreadful post war concrete boxes that defined cheap and seemed designed to crush the spirit for those walking without and those working within. At least the new buildings are vibrant and quirky.
Mernier Chocolate Factory Building
Arriving at Blackfriars Rd: All trendy now!
And so we get to Blackfriars Road. Here, the area between the bridge and Southwark Jubilee Line underground station is festooned with new buildings, loads of restaurants, take aways and pubs. It didn’t used to be that way. As I’ve hinted, I worked in property in the mid-90’s. I acquired a building on Blackfriars Road for a large multinational company. In my business case, I took several photos of the area including the then unfinished Southwark Jubilee Line station. Take a look at the pictures below - the top one I took 20 years ago and the second one is the same view in 2018. Interestingly enough the view doesn’t seem to have changed that much (beyond a new skyscraper in the background on the left).
Southwark Jubilee Line Underground being built early 1999. Photo Tim Robson
Southwark Station Sept 2018 : GoogleMaps
The Globe Theatre - photo Tim Robson
A quick drink in the reassuringly dreadful Prince William Henry pub and then back up Blackfriars Road towards the river. We’re going to walk along the Thames path for a while back towards London Bridge. This stretch of the walkway is pretty historic with many attractions - views across the water to the ever expanding number of towers in the City, St Paul’s Cathedral, London Bridge, The Millennium Bridge, The Cutty Sark, The Golden Hind, Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre, The Tate Modern. There’s almost too much to see, too much to absorb. One way you might digest your surroundings is in the ancient pub, The Anchor, overlooking the Thames. Apparently Samuel Pepys watched the Great Fire of London from here. Before the pub burnt down the next year.
So onto Southwark Cathedral and Borough Market. Was it two years ago when those pieces of shit went on a rampage here? Unbelievable. But I’m glad the market is as great and trendy and crowded as normal. Plenty of places to get snacky food around here - hotdogs for me, thank you. And then we’re on Borough High Street again and walking back to London Bridge station for the tube or train that takes us to our next adventure.
Borough Market Eateries
Like this? Check our more London Walks. My next one is London Victoria to the Haymarket. But this Southwark Shuffle is a great walk for me. Is it me just talking about my past? Dunno. Try it.
More London Walks?
What about a walk from Victoria to Harrods or a Haymarket to Victoria walk? Or maybe some walks from Gare du Nord in Paris?
London Walks : Harrods to Victoria Station
St Peter’s Church
This is a favourite walk I’ve been doing for years - essentially a stroll through one of the posher parts of London, some mews, hidden pubs and lots of embassies! Takes about twenty to thirty minutes depending on how slow you walk. If you stop in the nearby pubs - and there are nice ones on this route - then this time can easily stretch to a full afternoon.
My walk from Harrods to Victoria Station; note the interesting mews diversion down Kinnerton Street - to find The Nags Head and the Wilton Arms.
A few years ago - before time began, before Land Securities redeveloped Cardinal Place in Victoria Street - I worked in Portland House. For those of you that don’t know, Portland House is a 1963 concrete skyscraper near London’s Victoria Station. If you’ve been in the area, you’ve probably seen it standing like an inappropriate erection menacing the surrounding area. However, it does have a good view from the top floors over the nearby private Buckingham Palace Gardens (Hi Queenie - put that bikini top back on).
I had a stressful job back in the early 2000’s. I know, I know, you weep for me. Occasionally though I would break the chains of my captors, shoo away the ravenous eagles pecking at my vitals, and head West (young man). I’d explore the quieter streets of Belgravia. So when my company moved to Belgrave House on Buckingham Palace Road a year or two later, I found I could walk to Harrods in my lunch hour. Once there I’d give my Harrods loyalty card a heavy work out. That’s how I roll. And so the Victoria Station to Harrods walk or - it’s more famous cousin - the Harrods to Victoria Station walk was born.
I retraced my steps recently, reminding myself, as I walked, of memories, memories of people and situations long gone but, as I turned familiar corners, not forgotten. For you see, whilst I often did this walk alone, I often didn’t. There was a girl once. There’s always a girl. But I’ll get to that.
As you come out of Harrods, turn away from Brompton Road, past the tube exit and into Hans Crescent. Latterly, this quiet road has become infamous as the place where that self-regarding idiot Julian Assange turns a whiter shade of pale inside the Ecuadorian Embassy. But also, marvel at the illegally parked limos littering the road. Clearly very rich people can’t be expected to obey petty traffic restrictions. They have to launder, sorry spend, their ill gotten gains in Harrods.
Turning right onto Sloane Street, we cross the road and idle past all the high-end shops no-one I know uses. Around the corner we get to the Jumeirah Carlton Hotel on Cadogan Place. It’s an ugly 60’s built hotel but very popular with rich people who like the nearby shopping. Here, if you linger, you can watch the rich go in and out, observe old men parade impossibly beautiful women - maybe to stock up on lingerie at La Perla next door - and then wonder, ‘why the fuck isn’t that my life?’
And across the road to Motcomb Street. I’ve always liked this little high street. There’s an elegant Waitrose, where, back in the day, I used to come to for lunch, buy some rolls, some ham, sun-dried tomatoes and make an al fresco sandwich in the open space behind the Pantechnicon across the road. Back in the mid 2000’s this was where old Roma ladies in shawls used to gather for lunch after a hard morning’s begging outside Harrods. It was quite the style back then; full East European garb, a walking stick, a shake and a shudder. Anyway, I’m pleased to report their various ailments seemed to be much improved by lunchtime as they discussed the day’s take.*
There’s just one pub, latterly called the anodyne The Alfred Tennyson but previously, the more spicy Turk’s Head. In either incarnation I never much liked it and, on my last visit, it seemed a restaurant masquerading as a bar. Anyway, I always turn left just in front of the pub and walk down the mews that is Kinnerton Street. Clearly I never go in Gordon Ramsay’s Petrus. Instead I head to the rather marvellous Nag’s Head and less marvellous but more spacious Wilton Arms.
The Nag’s Head has two bars; a tiny front bar - curiously low down - and a larger room down some stairs at the back. It didn’t allow mobile phones nor - as I found out - laptops. It’s a quirk but one I’m happy to abide by. I fondly think that much of Franco’s Fiesta was handwritten here. It wasn’t. That privilege goes to the bar in Burgess Hill’s Beefeater. A classy joint where you get thrown out for not wearing a football top.
Years back, I used to hold team meetings in the Nag’s Head, gaining the respect of my team by playing endless games of Shag, Marry, Push Off a Cliff. I usually ended up as ‘Marry’ which personally I’m okay with. I took a date there recently. Didn’t work out.
The pub almost next door - The Wilton - is a bit louder, a bit brassier. Outside in the summer it tends to be populated by Belgravia estate agents braying loudly about their latest deal. I’ve eaten here a couple of times. Nothing special. (2020 update: The Wilton is closed)
A twist and a turn and we’re on Wilton Crescent, one of those gorgeous arched stucco terraces that home old money, embassies and money launderers. When I make my millions, I think I might buy here. No, not a flat. A whole house. And then I could pop out to The Grenadier - London’s most difficult to find pub which is out back, in another mews. I’m usually too pissed to find it. It’s worth a stop. Tell Madonna ‘hello’ from me. I still remember that night in Ciprianis.
A white van on Belgrave Square January 2019. Tim’s skill as a professional photographer is called into question.
Into Belgrave Square and we’re now into serious embassy country. Armed police, CCTV, manic taxi drivers, diplomatic plates, Simón Bolivar statue. Then down Upper Belgrave Street. Usually I’m picking up the pace by this point because either I’ve got a train to catch or - more likely - I’m needing the loo. A good place to stop is another hidden mews pub - The Horse and Groom. There’s a couple of tables outside on the road, summertime this area in front of the pub gets crowded. It’s much quieter in the afternoons if you’ve snuck out for a cheeky half. Yeah, WTF is a ‘cheeky half’?
Road sign Eaton Square
Now I’ve really got my head down and heading towards the station. Two points of interest. First is St Peter’s church. Now this could be either Upper Belgrave Street, Lower Belgrave Street or Eaton Square. Not a clue. Shame someone couldn’t invent software where one could look up these things - you know like a telephone directory but online. Anyway, it’s a pretty church in a vaguely temple type way. It’s the picture at the top of the page. And then we have The Plumbers Arms. If I’m heading in Victoria / Harrods direction this tends to be my first port of call.
The Plumbers Arms, Lower Belgrave Street. Lord Lucan not pictured.
Of course, it’s famous as the place where Lady Lucan fled to after getting whacked on the head by her soon to be missing husband (they lived opposite). The staff seem to have no idea about the history of their pub and look at me like I’m a nutter when I ask about it. Anyway, it’s a decent boozer, usually busy, not bad food. Good place to start but not end the walk.
The Victoria - hiding off Buckingham Palace Road
For we have one more pub. Now called The Victoria I’m sure it used to be The Princess Victoria back in the day when I used to go there. Needless renaming. It’s hidden down a mews - Phipps Mews - so tourists never find it as it has no entrance onto Buckingham Palace Road. I used to work in the next door office - Belgrave House where American Express and Google used to uneasily share the building. It tended to be the place we headed after a hard day’s toil. But that’s not why I remember it…
Back in the 90’s I attended South Bank University doing some useless Masters Degree. There I met a girl. Both of us had other attachments. I suppose we all have our secrets... We used to go into The Princess Victoria - as it then was - and make plans, organising the gloomy logistics of our affair. I don’t remember there being many laughs. And then a furtive kiss outside before I headed off back down to the South Coast and she went home to Hammersmith to another man.
“Whirling leaves catch at our coats
As we kiss in dark places
Careful. Suspicious. Alert
We make our final embraces
”
I raise a glass to the memory when I go in.
And then, cross the mayhem of Buckingham Palace Road to the Station - now thankfully liberated from the ridiculous three foot high fence that we all vaulted pissed trying to get our train. Some colleagues would mistime their jumps and end up sprawled in the road (yeah, you know who you are).
To conclude, do this walk either way. Do it in winter. Do it in summer. Do it sober and take in the great architecture, the sedate upstairs / downstairs history. Do it for the shops or exercise. Or have a great pub crawl in some great pubs with a sense of the past, with stories to tell, in places you wouldn’t normally find pubs without knowing. Do it for me. Or for an idea of me. Once.
More London Walks here
Outside the Victoria pub. There was once a wall where that white van is. No one cares.
*Fashions change. Here in Clapham you’re not considered a beggar unless you’ve got an accordion on which you bash out some meaningless tune.
Tim Robson Update
Yes - I am still here!
I’m working on some longer blog posts - you know, the arty ones that go on for a bit. Usually involving architecture, or girls or girls and architecture. And memory. Probably Marcus Aurelius. Soundtrack by Mick Taylor era Stones.
So Bon Jovi it and Keep The Faith
Tim Robson: Top Posts 2018
Tim Robson Top Posts 2018
The Timmies Awards
As we head to the vinegar strokes of 2018, I thought I would list the top blog posts of 2018. And then list the top blog posts that should have been were it not for the poor taste of the public ganging up with my own obscurity.
Top Posts Written in 2018
1) Top Mick Taylor Studio Tracks
2) Top 10 Britpop Songs
3) 20 Minute Playlist : The Queen at Live Aid Test
Most Read Articles in 2018
1) Mick Taylor and that Guitar Solo
2) Tom Petty and the Death of Gene Clark
3) Mick Taylor - Street Fighting Guitarist
4) Top Mick Taylor Studio Tracks
5) Top 10 Britpop Songs
What should have been the top Articles (aka Tim’s Favs) 2018
1) Le Baiser de l’Hotel de Ville - Tim discusses Robert Doisneau
2) Deleted Scenes - The Growing Chill of the Censor
3) Some words on Impermenance - Tim reflects on time passing
4) Brighton to Manchester Train - Tim remembers this 7 hour journey before mobile phones
5) 20 Minute Set Lists. Oasis. Beatles. Abba.
2018: Tim Robson's Music Review
Tim Robson’s 2018 Music Review
Yeah
I downloaded 255 songs in 2018. Or in some cases uploaded. But mainly downloaded.
255 songs.
Obviously, not all of these were released in 2018. In fact, most of them weren’t. There was lots of classical - and that’s like really old kids - and from Sinatra in the 40’s my downloads were pretty consistent through the following decades. I’m eclectic, man.
And yes, there were plenty of 2018 tracks. I have two teenage daughters and so its inevitable, even if I wasn’t such a hep-cat, that I’d have plenty of new material anyway from 2018.
So, here are my 2018 Musical Downloads (and sometimes uploads) Awards!!
2018 Award
Well, the most played was SZA (who?) with Calvin Harris and The Weekend. I detect the hands of my daughters on this one. It’s a good track but a bit morally dubious - two hot chicks decide to share a man on different days during the week. Who’s been reading my diary?
My favourite new release in 2018 was Lucie Silvas and E.G.O. and the standout track was First Rate Heartbreak. I saw Lucie in London in December so maybe I’m biased. Criminally under-rated but always brilliant Luice is - I found out - also great live. See the coming article on Lucie and her music.
Other notable 2018 songs were - Clean Bandit and Marina - Baby and also James Bay Strawberry Lemonade. I’m pleased for Marina (and the Diamonds) as her Primadonna Girl is a favourite of mine.
Best re-release in 2018 was Gene Clark Sings For You - a cache of Gene demos from 1967. The best track? Past My Door
(Hard to) Find of the Year
Musical find was Terry Hall’s two mid 90’s albums - Home and Laugh. I bought the Forever J single in 1994 and it became one of my favourite records ever - an evergreen candidate for Tim’s Desert Island Discs. I could never find the parent album but this year - probably thanks to dodgy Russian websites - I did! Favourite track - No No No. Fun fact - I found that the best tracks on both albums were written along with Craig Gannon. Yes, he of the latter day Smiths. Also good is Grief Disguised as Joy.
Live in 2018 Award
The runaway winner is - of course Lucie Silvas live December 2018 at The Courthouse London. An intimate, bonus gig for Lucie diehards, it was a close, hot, sweaty, amazing gig. Lucie was relaxed, taking requests and did songs old and new. She belted out stuff from her old albums (Breath In, Twisting the Chain), several from E.G.O. and plenty in between. Best song - Happy.
As some of you may know, I went to the 2018 Brit Awards and so had the opportunity to see no-marks like Duo Lipa lip sync whilst wearing jack-all and talk bollocks about feminism. Of course, Lord Liam of Gallagher, did an excellent Live Forever which went someway to atone for the fact I missed Oasis in the 90’s when I could have easily seen them. Here’s the video I shot which is basically a Liam / Tim duet. Sorry folks. Also, the picture is shit.
But, Justin Timberlake was also good. Especially Say Something with some beardy called Stumblebum or something. I downloaded the track and its one of the most listened to songs in 2018 (helps I got it in Feb, of course)! Most of the rest on the night were shit.
Classical Download 2018
I got into Georg Telemann in 2018. Thanks to my membership of Wandsworth Libraries, I get 3 free downloads per week from their catelogue and Spring was spent downloading - slowly - various notable Telemann concertos. And my favourite? See opposite - Concerto in E Minor for Oboe and Strings - Andante.
Why did I download this crap Award 2018
There’s no contest for this one. Some bollocks German Rap (why Tim, why?). The artist (?) is called Summer Cem and his gem which he curled off for the world is called Tamam Tamam. Look it up. I like Sandra, Nena and er, weren’t The Scorpians German? But this… What was I thinking?
Up My Own Arse Award 2018
This award is given to pretentious music I probably won’t listen to. I see I downloaded loads of early acoustic Dylan - Girl From the North Country, Masters of War, Corrina Corrina. No, not listened to them. I got sucker’d into downloading a couple of David Hemmings tracks because of the Gene Clark connection. Face palmly shit. Avoid. But, I think my deep exploration of Bossa Nova wins the award for 2018. Downloaded (too many) tracks from 60’s diva Sylvia Telles. I like a bit of Corcovado or Insensatez (especially when Anglicised by the Monkees - hey I’m versatile). But Dindi or Sol Da Meia-Noite are definitely there just for show.
So - there is my musical review of the year.
Anyway, I’ll leave you with a Christmas classic, well at least in my house (when no one else is around). It’s the cardigan wearing, bluesfest we call ‘Santa Claus is Back in Town’ from two years ago. I miss that cardigan.
Tim Robson's Blog 2018
Christmas 2018
Raising a glass, Tim Robson exclusively speaks to this website about his 2018
2018 ! Christmas 2018. So, here I stand at the threshold of another Christmas. Joy to the world!
Christmas tunes are playing. Mince pies are waiting to be eaten. Bottles of Cava, Port and whiskeys (sans ice) stand ready to be downed. Hangovers to be endured.
However, the 2018 band is still playing, the dancers are still on the floor and our story has not yet finished.
So over the next few days, I’ll be revisiting the year on this blog. Looking at the hits. The frequent duds. The blogposts where I was on it (like a bonnet). The diatribes where I missed the mark like a current day BBC comedian at a Northern working men’s club in the 70’s.
We’ll review Normandy. Trier. The Lake District. So many places.
My many attempts to capture history on these pages.
The music I listened to, reviewed, included as a YouTube video
And. And. Mick Taylor. Mick Bloody Taylor. That article I wrote a couple of years ago still tops the charts as the most popular thing I’ve ever written. That one article accounts for between 30 - 50% of the traffic on the site.
I’m a one hit wonder. That’s what I am. I’m the bloody Birdies Song. I’m Joe Dolce. I’m Cinderella Rockafella.
Roll with it.
Laters potatas!
Tim