It is broken and we should fix it... Just do it faster

2025. A long way in the future. If we’re to believe Hollywood (and who am I to doubt them?!), we’ll have run out of oil, live in caves/old caravans/in forest/under water, use hover-boards and there could well be aliens among us, if they aren’t already that is.

So, I think you’ll agree, a lot will happen in that time. Well, I’m sorry to tell you Mr Spielberg, but here in the UK things take a lot longer to change than you imagine. The thing causing me most annoyance today is the amount of time it takes to build anything over here. The biggest example of this I can think of right now is the redevelopment of Elephant and Castle (E&C) in South London 

E&C is a shithole. It’s horrible. There are many examples of the post war concrete monstrosities across the UK and Europe but E&C stands out to me. Here a whole area is characterised by crowded roads, concrete skyscrapers, a hideous shopping centre and underground tunnels that are piss stained and beggar-filled. Basically it needs changing, which thankfully is happening. A big step has been taken to transform a sink-estate into a progressive, modern, safe and aspirational community.

Why am I grumpy then? Well because by latest reckoning it won’t be finished until 2025. That’s 15 years away. By then, a whole new generation will have passed through this festering pit of filth and squalor. Many more dreams and hopes will have been reduced to disappointment and under-achievement. Why? This has been discussed for the past decade, and while it needs to be carefully considered to ensure that it won’t fall victim of the same past problems, a further 15 years is too long.  If we’re going to get out of this economic mess we’re in, we need to act well and act decisively, not spend 15 years re-building, otherwise we'll never be able to afford those hover-boards

A grumpy life part 2

I arrive at work sweating a little and with a mild feeling of anger. Nothing out of the ordinary there. I get to my desk, notice that the cleaners haven’t swept the dust off my desk again. I move an old pack of post it notes and see underneath what colour the desk used to be. I put them back again and go to make a coffee. Idle chit chat passes the time as the early morning coffee round queue dwindles. Looks like everyone is “OK thanks” or, “yeah OK, X days until the weekend”. I offer no alternative but wonder to myself what kind of comment I could slip in under the radar and get away with it.

Work progresses nicely as the email inbox fills up with requests for stats, info, insights and costs. People come and go, the occasional call is answered and lunch arrives. What to get today? A boring choice of local sandwich shops that are either too expensive, don’t give enough fillings or put you in danger of spending a week on the toilet. The pub shines out like a beautiful beacon of hope and joy but at £3.70 a pint won’t be as much fun as you’d hope. Plus they’ve probably decided to sell Thai food now. Settle for sandwich, get disappointed, even adding salt and vinegar crisps doesn’t jazz it up. Check my personal email. Nothing there. Not even spam.

Continue with work. All passes successfully and head home, this time by bus to avoid a face-in-armpit situation. 5 mins down the road it starts to rain. Umbrella is at my desk and I decide I’m too close to the bus stop to turn around. Crowd into the bus shelter and huddle with fellow commuters either smoking, shouting on the phone or listening to music on loudspeaker.  The bus arrives, and quickly departs. It’s ‘too full’,  but I’m certain I saw a space in between the tourist, their suitcase and the baby’s pushchair complete with screaming child. Everyone agrees the driver’s an idiot and we shouldn’t have to pay for service like this.

Make it home, realise the evening is running through my fingers so I get changed and decide I’ll do something different tonight. Life’s too short and the clock is ticking. I put on the telly while I think of what to do. Les Dennis is offering to give the contestant the money himself. The answer’s not there. Les’s cheque book is safe this time! I see what’s on next, Bullseye!  Oh well, life’s not so bad after all, I’ll do something new tomorrow.

A grumpy life part 1

Getting old. Christ, I'm getting old. I'm now 27 (older than my
blogger name, I know) and I find myself hating things more than before.

I'm at home now thinking about where I live, how I live and wondering how we let ourselves live like this.

Over the next couple of post I'll explain how a typical day goes, Here's the morning:

I wake up, watch terrible sickly sweet 'news' with a horribly smiley Scottish lady telling me what the weather is like. I get in the shower and feel mildly content. It's warm, I'm clean and the whole day is ahead of me. There is nothing that can hold me back.

Then I get dressed. It's wonderful. My beautiful girlfriend is there. How does she put up with me? She leaves before she questions it herself. Thank god. I don't believe in him but I'll thank him anyway.

Then off to work. I pass a woman having a Dr Pepper and a fag, a traffic warden offering misery to all and walk behind 3 smokers all issuing me with their individual piece of cancerous smoke. I've not touched on the school kids eating shite, drinking filth and bullying the nice kids...They'll never change.

I walk into the tube station. Touch in. Stand by the lift. Wait in line. People are congregating by the door. They have to get to in there first. God forbid that they have to get in near the back. The World will crumble if that happens.

We're at the height of summer and people are still taking coats down there. They're not happy, it was cloudy outside and they've come prepared for rain. They feel foolish. They are fools. But we have to suffer their elbows, their panic and their impatience as they force their way on to a crowded carriage. They're important. They matter. The train following in 2 minutes is not good enough. This is the train that matters.

The train painfully makes its way to the station and people pour off and stand in line as we rise to the surface. Bad breath, more sweat and panicked tourists ensure that the rushed start to the day continues. At last the sunlight emerges and I begin to relax. 5 minutes of solitude lay ahead. Shit, no they don't. There's a Sport magazine forced into my hand. Michael Owen is having another comeback! I can't wait...

More to come soon...