Day in the life of a Poet (September 2020)

Russell Square Tuesday

-- Still hiding behind 
cigarette smoke
after all these years.

On the top deck, 
the metallic
click in the back clack
of the throat.
--- shouldn't be drinking 
on the way to work really
but who is going to stop me.
I'll get off at the stop 
after the office
and sit in the park 
awhile. 

---- Birdsong
traffic hum
diesel fog
vodka fumes.

The Russell Square
Cabmen's shelter
---- one oasis amidst 
the madness.

Before the inevitable. 
-- revolving glass doors
cold design, hot desks.
I'm sure nobody suspects.
Staff protocols/free coffee.
------ Well, maybe they do
but if they do
they sure as hell don't care.

-- It seems like everyone 
has got their own world 
to worry about these days.

And I mean everyone...

Marmite v Vegemite

Ok, I've been putting this off for far too long now. Having been behind enemy lines for nearly 10 years I think the time has come to answer the question that has been on everyone's lips for a lifetime. Which is better? Marmite (stalwart English breakfast staple) or Vegemite (Aussie alternative)? I have also included Marmite XO in this crucial battle, not least because it tastes like Marmite used to taste!

Taste Test #1 - Straight out of the jar

Marmite 1

Marmite XO 2

Vegemite 3

Taste Test #2 - On bread & butter

Marmite 2

Marmite XO 1

Vegemite 3

Taste Test #1 - On toast

Marmite 2

Marmite XO 1

Vegemite 3

Taste Test #1 - On toast with Avocado

Marmite 2

Marmite XO 3

Vegemite 1

The results are in.

Marmite & Marmite XO 1

Vegemite 3

And so, there we have it. Categoric proof!!!

Moments in love #1

Sitting in Macari's 7:00am. One cup of tea to share. One cigarette to smoke. One thought on my mind.

Saturday mornings at Max Records

In the distant days, whilst waiting for what seemed like an interminably long lull between the football and cricket season to disappear, there was a thing called Saturday mornings.

Saturday mornings were spent in town, having caught the no. 1 or 11 to the station. It was then straight into Max Records (or briefly into Silver Disc) and start to flick through the new release section. I can still recall the box fresh tang of the whole shop, the bright yellow & green bags and most importantly the records. 79p was a lot of money to spend on a single, so the choice had to be right. Would it be; Patrick Fitzgerald - 'Safety pin stuck in my heart' EP, Wire - 'I am the Fly', Gang of Four 'Damaged Goods' EP or something more chart/mainstream like The Stranglers (whose drummer Jet Black was ancient even then) or heaven forbid the wretched The Police (goodness knows how they were ever regarded as a good reggae band).

Once a choice was made (Gof4), it was hand over the cash and then head on to a cafe to meet up with the assorted massed ranks of the record buying youth of Eastbourne. The venue was forever changing; Upstairs at Bobbys, The Cappucino (or Kampuchea as it was known), The Golden Egg, Macari's, Notarianni's and finally the ever faithful Spartan in Grove Road. Once ensconced at a table with either a coffee or usually a more time consuming pot of tea, the records would be passed around, praised, dismissed, pored over and generally completely dissected for the best part of three hours. All the while with Tony or George trying to hurry us along or at least get one person in the group of 14 youths to buy a bloody cup of coffee.

Occasionally we'd sit round and read articles from the NME but by Saturday all the news had already been out on the street for four days and at that time a band could be discovered, release a single, sign to a major, release a disappointing debut LP, split and reform within the space of an afternoon, so 4 days was a lifetime. Some youth cults didn't even make it past breakfast on a Wednesday let alone through to the weekend.

And when finally we couldn't make the pot of tea stretch any further we'd spill out onto Grove Road, tumble down by the Central Library, passing the station and get onto separate buses and wend our way back to the distant suburbs and estates of Roselands, Cavendish, Langney, Ringmere, Langney Point and beyond. All of us sitting at the back of our respective rides, staring at the 7" single in our hands and hoping and praying that we'd made the right choice but promising at the same time that "next week I'm definitely going to buy the Wire single.... Or perhaps the new John Cooper Clarke one... Or maybe The Jam will bring forward their new release... Or... Or... And so it went on.

 The eternal joyous circle of Saturday morning suburban life.

Top 3 Caffs

I know that it is all the rage and everyone seems to be blogging about the best café’s, it’s a bit like stand up comics in the 90’s going on about ‘Spangles’ and ‘Ice Breaker chocolate bars’. But I do miss them, café’s (and Spangles too actually).

Sydney has got one or two fine café’s, not least the magnificent and wonderful Maisy’s on Military Road, Neutral Bay (a stumble down the street from The Oaks!). But that is for another day/another blog. So here are three to be getting on with…

ALFREDO’S
My favourite café was Alfredo’s on Islington Green, where I went for breakfast on my wedding day. Despite the obvious last meal of a condemned man scenario, I always loved the whole brilliant approach to how you got served. “Me Mum’s clocked ya”, were the words you longed to hear.

In all the times I went to Alfredo’s, I never once got short-changed, forgotten, the wrong order, offered an egg-plant on crusty ciabatta, was kept waiting for a seat longer than 10 minutes, could see out of the steamed up windows. It was the ideal place to hide away for mornings on end in a fog of toast and the sports pages.

MACARI’S
At the top of Terminus Road. Macari’s was the place to go before the beach and Macari’s was the place to go after the beach. Two fried egg, two slices, mushrooms, beans, fried bread and a cup of tea. Sit down on the orange seats either with friends or a copy of ‘Moonraker’ and prepare for the joys of sunbathing ahead. When the day was done we’d repair back to Macari’s for a cappuccino and maybe an ice cream or some more toast, the juke box would play ‘Theme from Mantrap’ by ABC and we’d plot and play the evening ahead.

Check out Macari’s at the excellent http://www.classiccafes.co.uk/eastbournespecial.htm

THE SPARTAN
Run by Tony & George. We lived in the Spartan Bar & Grill in the early 80's. Hunched over a coffee for hours on end or demolishing a plate of toast in double time (Giro day!). We spent so much time in their, sitting in the window seats, smoking for England, spilling sugar/coffee and tea all over the table, folding and refolding the serviette’s, bouncing on the brown vinyl seats or just watching the comings and goings at Chaterlands.

We became part of the family almost. A mate moved into the flat over the café, we had poker nights, strange trips, early mornings and lazy afternoons there. We even recorded an album of background music under the name ‘The Blue Curacao’ that they actually played over the tinny sound system. (Track names I can vaguely remember were; ‘Two Coffees please Tony’, ‘Can I pay you next time I’m in’, ‘Hey, get your feet off the seats’ and the epic cocktail jazz psych freak out ‘Spartan Special Grill’!