Strike Three...

They claim they’ve no power, financial or real, as we daily clamber aboard,
Fighting for space, a metro or seat, just to be told to get off!!

Windows get fogged in the cold winter months as viruses make use of the space,
Reluctantly people crack open the windows, though not before coughing in your face.

Silence typically settles as people choose not to converse,
Rather to sleep with headphones on ears or get lost in their favourite book.

Only when stuck in tunnels for hours on end do Londoners engage with their peers,
Sharing in common dislikes for the tube and discussing frustrations and fears.

You’d think for £169 a month they could deliver a service to boot,
I certainly don’t expect to complete, my morning commute on foot.

Millions of Oyster cards swiping us through as we head straight into rush hour,
Faces are dark, expecting the worst, turning ever so slowly more sour.

Delays, signal failures, people falling on tracks, the problems just seem to get worse,
At this rate, any hope of arriving on time will more likely come thanks to a hearse.

Huffing and cursing, in-fighting abounds as priority seats become sparse,
Forcing earlybirds up from their comfortable perches to make room for those old and knocked up!

As the third of three strikes takes effect on this eve, the buses will be crammed to the hilt,
I stop for a moment and consider just how TFL staff can sleep with the guilt,
Of causing such ‘mares for us London folk who rely on the carriages and wheels,
To transport us to work and meetings and such, where we’ll bash out our deadlines and deals.

Facing epic treks to locales far and wide most would prefer to stay home,
But bosses alike will hear none of that, ignoring our pleas and our groans.

With tube staff loitering outside the closed stations directing angry mobs away,
Bus drivers revel in the unadulterated need that commuters have for them this day.

Pushing and shoving to get on at their stop, getting thrown every time the bus halts,
We’ll all stand together, clinging on for dear life, bitching of all the tube’s faults.

Genius Comes in many forms...

They tried to revive the five-piece boyband, with a little F, Y and D,
But they were soon stripped of their dancing shoes live on Sunday TV.
The Brazilian joker of Walsh’s pack survived to the shock of the nation,
While a certain blonde cried her heart out, singing in desperation.
The headlines were full of spite, accusing Cheryl of not bringing her A-Gamu,
While an Italian diva and has-been rock leader were ousted by the public shoe!
Mad and brooding, creating a craze, Aiden let us into his world,
Evoking eerie presence and pin-up looks, his performance won over the girls.
A certain painter in a certain hat finally opened his eyes,
Melting the heart of every female with his lyrical, soulful surprise.
Camp and colourful, Simon’s duo painted the X Factor stage green, pink and blue,
An Irish songstress belted power ballads, but we’re now after something new.
On the cover of every weekly rag, a ‘breakdown’ saw Waissel cry,
Seems Topshop were out of the Kate Moss dress she’d been saving her pennies to buy.
The face of JLo and a voice in a million, a shy scouser flaunted her chops,
While a wonderful wildcard proved his worth, despite being styled by shmocks.
Will.i.am may have found a replacement for the rapstar girl in his band,
With a snarl of the lip and a hand on her hip, Cher Lloyd is cementing her brand.
Walsh’s novelty act is still going strong, as facebook fans keep him on air,
While a voice known as John took his final bow on account of a right naughty pair.
One and the same in look and style, Cowell’s boys maintain their direction,
Headed straight for the bathroom mirror, to admire their united reflection.
Cheryl’s fourth girl ain’t doing so well even though her talent is grrreeaaaat,
Her act don’t stand out in the current comp, it’s kinda three years too late.
Simon looked bored, Louie looked meek, the girls shot daggers at JK,
Bon Jovi wowed with a huge ensemble, while a food-fight broke out for RiRi.
SiCo’s makeshift girlie band went one copy-act too far as they met the end of the line,
Halloween saw them fright for their lives, but the dong bell of deadlock called time.
Pacing the stage barefoot and wild, eyes rimmed red with distress,
A drama queen wept as she went to great lengths to prove she was a top songstress.
Weeks have passed and the numbers gone down, now only nine remain,
Who will be next to face the aXe in this rigged but addictive game?

The Act of Stardom

In the bottom two again on last night's X Factor, Katie Waissel 'broke down' almost before her performance of Etta James' 'Trust in Me' was over.

This girl has mastered the act of over-acting; from breakdowns in Topshop to spider-leg eyelashes, Waissel (fondly referred to by some as 'Weasel') is going above and beyond to cement her presence in the public consciousness.

Although her husky warblings are sensually appealing, and her kooky on-stage persona memorable; there is something of a mad desperation about her, which clearly came across on Sunday night. Walking around barefoot (uh, hello - been there done that, Diana Vickers) in a gold playsuit, her black root-powdery hairstyle up at all ends - she seemed to me nothing more than a lunatic woman stalking her bathroom shouting things out in frustration...

I feel no good can come from this madcap manner - calm down Miss Katie... that's a warning!

‘London Underground are gambling with public safety’ | Camden New Journal

‘London Underground are gambling with public safety’ | Camden New Journal

Tunnel Vision

Monday morning.

7.10am
Severe delays reported on the Metropolitan line.

7.50am
Leave house and get on Met line train at North Harrow stn. Husband calls to say has just arrived at work (in Holborn) and to switch at Finchley Road because train took ages to get from Finchley Road to Baker Street on the metropolitan line.

8.30am
Arrive at Finchley Road and swap over the platform to get on a Jubilee Line train to Green Park. Sit for 5 minutes in the station.

8.45am
Train plunges into darkness… nothing. Can no longer read Metro article about alleged nookie between X Factor contestants Katie Waissel and Matt Cardle… damn!

8.47am
Driver announces there has been a power failure and assures us there will be information shortly.

9.30am
Driver makes his way down the entire length of the train. Announces once at the back that we will be walking back to St John’s Wood station… in the tunnel. But he has to isolate that end and the staff from St John’s Wood need to walk down to meet us.

9.45am
Passenger has asthma attack – calls for medical aid rumble through the cars like chinese whispers.

9.50am
Sporadic lighting comes on in the surrounding tunnel. Hmmm, try to resume X Factor gossip catch up. Give up, play Solitaire on iPhone instead.

10.00am
The driver – still at the back of the train – announces that actually he may be able to start the train and get us to Baker Street. Sighs of relief all round. He returns back through the train, thanking passengers for their patience: ‘Not that you have much choice, mind.’ Muffled laughter – heavy irony.

10.15am
Driver back in his car announces the train will most definitely not start and that instead we will be walking the half-hour track hike to Baker Street, but we must wait for the police and station staff to arrive first to guide us through the tunnel.

10.30am
Another girl has panic attack – fellow passenger gives up his seat to her (a bit late if you ask me). Offer her rescue remedy, she shuns it in favour of a bottle of water. Oh well, all the more for me then!

11.00am
The driver announces that actually we will not be walking to Baker Street – man on crutches emits sigh of relief – we will now be walking to St John’s Wood… hmmm.

11.15am
The police, station staff and our driver make their way through to the end of the train as some passengers verbally attack the police with exasperated cries of, ‘Well what the hell are we supposed to do now?!’ to which the police officers reply, ‘I don’t know… get a bus or something.’

11.30am
There is movement at the far end of our carriage – people are starting to move towards the end of the train. We start walking. Thankful for UGG boots – heels stowed in heavy gym bag slung over right shoulder with precious Zara bag carefully balanced on right arm along with scarf and coat – desperately in need of a shower…



11.35am
It’s dark, no sign of rodent life so far…



11.43am
There is a light at the end of the tunnel… literally!! Various voices echo this sentiment, laughing at their own wit… oh please people... get a grip!



11.45am
Nice man in orange vest offers a hand as I clamber out of the darkness up some narrow steps and onto the platform of St John’s Wood – am greeted by more men in orange, and a water fountain… with no water!

11.46am
Stop to capture one last image of epic tunnel journey…



11.50am
Am now out of the deserted station – smokers immediately block my path with furious puffing on assorted brands of cigarette. Try to call work – no answer on any phone. Leave message on one colleague’s phone. Mobile dies… regret amount of Solitaire playing on train. Wonder what to do now… need the loo and need to get to Green Park. Mum works at hospital two minute walk away, decide to make a pit stop… oh, what if Mum also stuck in tunnel. Call… she answers, is at work. Good – walk to hospital.

11.55am
Been to loo, been fussed over by Mum and Mum’s colleagues. Offered tea, coffee and biscuits. Have cup of water and one biscuit.

Midday
Try to call work again – still no answer. Google central switchboard number and call – get through to temp who informs me that everyone in meeting. Tell her to pass on message of morning tube hell and that phone has died. Will try to get bus.

12.15pm
Mum suggests cup of tea, decline and insist that I must go in search of a bus. Routes discussed. Leave.

12.20pm
Miss intended bus, no.13. Wait at bus stop with fellow Italian mothers and their precocious offspring, elderly people and assorted professionals.

12.30pm
Bus arrives – not mine, but going to Baker Street so hop on.

12.37pm
Arrive Baker Street – endure slight conundrum – waver between approaching no.13 bus and entrance to Baker Street tube station. No.13 doesn’t stop, forced to attempt the tube station. Accost station staffer who confirms that Green Park is open and Victoria Line is running. Thank him and make mad dash to Bakerloo line.

13.10pm
Arrive at work. Light-headed from lack of food and fairly traumatic experience.

Monday afternoon
Regale employees and husband (via phone) of said traumatic experience. Much sympathy and offers to leave work early if necessary. Cancellation of evening dinner plans and brief contemplation of intended trip to gym – think best to leave all until tomorrow. Am still in shock.

A Gallery of Shoes!!!

“I don’t know who invented high heels, but all women owe him a lot!”
Marilyn Monroe



LONDON - Tamara Drewe actress, Gemma Arterton was the envy of every girl, woman, shoe connoisseur last night as she oversaw the public launch of Selfridges' first ever shoe gallery and was given sole access to wander the cavernous trove of high-heeled treasures before the masses descended.



Created by renowned architect Jamie Fobert, shoe lovers can come visit, explore and indulge in the six unique shoe galleries, flanked by 11 beautiful boutiques featuring the world's most iconic shoe brands, and one hanging garden.

With 4,000 pairs of shoes on display at any one time, the new Selfridges shoe gallery houses in total a whopping 55,000 pairs from 150 brands, including 11 designer boutiques and stretches over 35,000 square feet. Every female's dream come true, the Selfridges’ new shoe hall is now officially open to the public!!

“I did not have three thousand pairs of shoes, I had one thousand and sixty”
Imelda Marcos



To celebrate the public opening last night, a Balmain military jacket-clad Gemma Arterton oversaw a parade featuring the release of exploding shoe-printed balloons outside the store, while a plane flying a banner half the size of a football pitch above the store announced the shoe mecca OPEN.



Apartments dedicated to Prada, Fendi, Jimmy Choo and Coco Chanel are juxtaposed to the UGG chalet, designer rooms, Tod's Loft and an array of 150 high street brands, with River Island and All Saints both debuting specially created collections. To rest your soles, and credit card, the Aubaine restaurant is on hand opposite Gucci, to provide you with a place to eat and recuperate.

The perfect antidote to the end of London Fashion Week, I know where I'll be indulging in some retail therapy this weekend!!!



Explore for yourself - http://www.selfridges.com/en/StaticPage/SG-Explore/

Trawling the new shoe gallery this weekend? Why not also savour the catwalk-credentials of the Regent's Street festival on Sunday (26 September) with offers at surrounding stores and fashion shows in homage of LFW.

SJP: Who do you think you are? [BBC]

Airing on Sunday, 13 Jun 2010, 21:15 on BBC One - my screen icon, Sarah Jessica Parker traced her family lineage on the programme's 'Who do you think you are' series.



Having always assumed that her ancestors were recent immigrants, and doubted that her family had any significant lineage in the United States Sarah Jessica Parker was shocked to discover another side to her family history. On her father's side she knew that she had Jewish roots, but her mother's side was more of a mystery. She knew that her mother was born and raised in Cincinnati's German community, like her parents and grandparents before her, but didn't know much more than that. But a visit to her mother revealed a distinctly non-German sounding name, Lillian Hodge, Sarah Jessica's great-grandmother.

Intrigued by the Hodge name, Sarah Jessica headed to Cincinnati, where she discovered an obituary for her three times grandfather that revealed that his father, John Hodge, died on a journey to California in 1849. Wanting to know more, Sarah Jessica embarked on a journey which took her to the gold fields of northern California, where she uncovered a tragic story surrounding another of her ancestors who, like thousands of other young men, travelled west in search of gold.

Digging further back, her journey also spanned to Colonial New England where she uncovered a collection of 17th-century trial papers, revealing that another ancestor was involved in one of the most terrifying events in American history.

Sarah Jessica, it seems, is much more "classically American" than she thinks.



Wikipedia: Sarah Jessica Parker (en.wikipedia.org)