Sunday, September 23, 2007
Olympic Death Pit
Life sucks. Have another drink.
Oh dear what can the matter be/Gwyneth Coles is stuck in the lavatory
The fence cut the bridge in half: on the west side of the canal, there was the usual grimy bustle of Hackney's remaining factories, all wheezing forklifts and tight Victorian yards; on the 2012 side, silence. I looked through an unusually large gap in the fence. There was a street of intact and handsome old industrial buildings, a billboard advertising the new Lexus, and roads and pavements eerily populated only by traffic cones, like a scene from a post-apocalyptic film.
Do I want the Olympics in London? Yes. Do I want the Olympics in London to bankrupt the city/country? Hell no. Do I want the Olympics to be an opportunity to kick start East London? Yes. Do I want the London Olympics to be an excuse to lay waste to East London and put nothing into the community? Hell no.
Missed a London cycle event. Ken had a ride. Now deliver some cycle paths rather than cycle routes (a waste of paint and a danger to cyclists, motorists and pedestrians).
Weekend Cyclist. Two rides. 50km. No falls.
iPod-dolatry
"Hair Dude, You're Stepping On My Mystique" - Out Hud
"This Bum's Paid" - Out Hud
"Dad, There's A Little Phrase Called Too Much Information" - Out Hud
"Story Of The Whole Thing" - Out Hud
"Abillera" - The Necks
"Listening In Depth" - Labradford
"Dead Dogs Two" -cLOUDDEAD
"If I Was Santa Claus" - Atmosphere
"Powder" - Bedhead
Labels: cycling, drugs, olympics
:: Posted by pete @ 21:00
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