Another view

Entries for the Stockwell Flats: Different Perspectives competition are flooding in. Here’s one from Nicole (her blog is here) taken on her way home from work. Puts my pictures to shame, I think you’ll agree.

The Stockwell flats: a new perspective

A nice surprise from my friend James (his blog’s here) on Monday: he’s emailed me a photo of the view of the Stockwell flats from his bedroom window. As I’m sure you know, here at Electric Goose towers, we’re always willing to publish other people’s perspectives / bow out to public pressure, so here it is:


Hurrah! This is the perfect opportunity for me to turn this blog into a 360-degree interactive community experience! Anyone who lives south London way, send me your Stockwell flats pictures now and I’ll publish them here!


Hmmm. Despite Venn Diagrammatical evidence to the contrary, we can still do this. Nicole, Jamie, Eleanor? I’m talking to you. Go forth.

Stockwell flats slideshow

No comment

When it comes to blogging, I always get the impression that half the time people are more interested in reading the comments people have left than actually reading the posts. There’s something so enticing about that comments link that I'm sure readers often skip to it before they've got to the end of whatever fascinating insights the blogger has to offer. Admit it, you didn’t read that last sentence did you?

Ale these things I've drunk

Saturday was a funny day. In perfect demonstration of the fine art of balance, me and Sarah spent the morning in the gym and the evening at a beer festival. The Macclesfield Beer Festival was a strange affair, essentially being two big marquees jammed together and dropped in a field. Entertainment consisted of three bands, a hotdog stand, and 50 different types of beer.

The bar: pure glamour

I went to work, getting through eight varieties: Wigwam, I Can't Believe It's Not Bitter, Coastguard, Mr Sheppard's Crook, Fat Cat Bitter, Clansman Ale, Buckled Wheel and the pleasantly-named Leaky Willy.

Upon entry, everyone is given a free Macclesfield Beer Festival commemorative pint glass which drinkers then have to use for the whole night - and many end up forming intensely close bonds with their glasses.

My commemorative glass, back in Stockwell

Visitors to the festival also get a free programme, which contains great descriptions of each drink available. Some are baffling - "the perfect secession beer", some unlikely - "an aroma of heather and smoked peat", some even more unlikely - "very smooth, hoppy and Moorish" ('moreish', shurely?!), some esoteric - "late hopping with Fuggles and Mount Hood gives a floral, grassy and herbal nose" and some wonderfully poetical - "the sweetness diminishes in the aftertaste, but the bitterness lingers".

Stockwell flats: spring is sprung

Lo! The park has turned as green as a young damsel

Stockwell flats slideshow

Sun pun fun

More profane genius from The Sun newspaper last week, who "reported" on the "story" of model Lauren Pope's breast enlargements in puntastic fashion (with accompanying before and after pictures, of course):

"LO AND BEHOLD, we've defrocked the pope... pouting Lauren Pope that is – and what a revelation.

For the one-time bosom buddy of Prince Harry asked plastic surgeons to altar her boobs, and verily they performed a miracle and her cups runneth over."

From the electric goose archive:
The Sun says... Phwoar!

Bauer reshuffles cabinet

The cabinet reshuffle that's going on is shaping up to be a perfect mirror image of the opening of 24, series 4, with all the old recognisable characters being ditched in favour of unknown new faces. Welcome then, Des Browne (who I'll be calling "Edgar"), Alan Johnson (Curtis) and John Reid (Driscoll). Uncanny.


More electric goose on 24:
An A to Z of 24
Apocalypse Bau(er)
Jake Joke
Absolute Bauer corrupts absolutely

Labouring the point

Did an article on the scandals of the Labour party over the last year for Wanadoo... Read it here

Pie in the sky

Inappropriate pricing galore in HMV's video section. Check this one out: you can get American Pie 2, on VHS, for £17.99. I hate to say it, but I think they've overestimated the value of seeing Stifler inadvertently drinking male bodily fluids.

The shapes of Rothko

Yesterday afternoon I found myself trapped in the flat, feeling rather cooped up and calculating how many books I'd read in the last nine years (answer: 488). The atmosphere was getting oppressive and I started to feel like banging my head against the wall. This would have invariably proved counter-productive, so I decided to go to the Tate Modern gallery, to get some fresh air if nothing else.

Unfortunately, I accidentally inhaled some sink unblocking fluid just before I left and, as a result, felt like I was being poisoned by the fresh air. When I got to the Tate Modern, I found myself drawn to a lowly-lit room of Mark Rothko paintings. On a normal day, I feel a bit of an affinity with Rothkos, as we got two free with our flat (originals, natch) - they're propped against the wall, one on each side of the television - but yesterday, the fuzzy, dark blocks of haze somehow particularly epitomised my mood of vague angst and physical sensations of faintness and nausea.

After a short while spent in the company of the nine paintings, I read that they were completed in the late '50s, and were influenced by Michelangelo's oppressive Laurentian Library in Florence. According to Rothko, Michelangelo "achieved just the kind of feeling I'm after - he makes the viewers feel that they are trapped in a room where all the doors and windows are bricked up, so that all they can do is butt their heads forever against the wall".

I go home and eat a couple of scones.

TV in lounge, flanked by Rothkos