Rog T's Food Blog #4 - Where we buy our food from and why we should pay for quality

 Two food blogs in a week. Yesterdays ode to pie and mash was a huge labour of love. Todays, we take a bit of a different stance. Today we look at where we buy our food. I've often stated that I buy my meat from Boucherie Gerard. It is a specialist butcher and provides the best meat in town. You pay a small premium for the produce, but it tastes amazing. Recently we had my nephew and his fiance around for Sunday lunch. She is Portuguese and I don't know if she'd had too many Sunday Roast dinners. Afterwards she said "I don't normally like beef, but that was amazing". She works as a Sommelier and I explained that meat is like wine, the more you pay the better you get. I'd bought a sirloin joint. It wasn't cheap but it was delicious. I gave up eating meat completely between 1984 and 2000, due to health issues and concern for the planet. In 2000, I started eating meat again, but I made a decision that I'd try and stick to free range meats and only eat it as a treat. I had developed a vitamin deficiency and a liver and bacon was the quick fix recommended by the Doctor. It worked instantly, so I built a new set of rules, based around only eating good meat dishes that I really enjoy. So when I eat my sirloin roast, it is not just another day of meat and two veg. Gerard also does the best bacon and sausages, as well as delicous Turkeys. I am not sure if it is because I'm a good cook or we don't use rubbish meat, but I've never had a dry, chewy turkey on Xmas day. I suspect it is a bit of both. The point is that if you want to enjoy your food, get good ingredients.

When it comes to the days I don't eat treats, we eat a lot of pasta dishes and soups. With soup, I tend to prefer fresh ingredients, although we have a stack of frozen veg as they last better. In Mill Hill we have four main places we buy general groceries. I guess the one we use most is Marks and Spencer. Their fruit and veg is good quality and they have many decent high quality ingredients. Their Sourgough bread is also delicious (which is a key part of having soup for lunch). M&S is expensive though. If you are buying tins of beans and frozen prawns, it is not really worth it IMHO. We also have Iceland. As an over 60, I get 10% off on a Tuesday. We tend to buy frozen items there on that day. Usually spinach, frozen fruits and other bits and pieces. Things like Oxo cubes are also cheaper than M&S. We also occasionally get bits and pieces in Tescos. I am not a fan, but Clare has a club card and likes a few things, like their Hummus and Salad. Finally we have the Mill Hill Food Centre store next to Costa's. They are the best place for jars of olives and gherkins, etc. They also do good aubergenes and Oyster mushrooms. I also like their fresh chillies.

Recently, we've also taken to going to Borehamwood Lidl or Aldi for big grocery shops. Things like tinned Sardines are as low as 39p. The cheapest in Iceland are £1 on a deal fo 3. Things like potatoes, tomatoes, etc are also good. 

It got me thinking. Back in 2013, I published a recipe for my trademark Rocket Fuel Soup. I always cook this when I'm run down or have a cold/flu. I'm still alive so it must work! It is delicious. Anyway, I thought I'd look at the ingredients, where to buy them and what they cost where it is available on line)

Ingredients.

1 Tin Organic chopped tomatoes - (Lidl 75p/ M&S 1.25)
4 cloves of Garlic - (Mill Hill Food centre - price per weight)
2 large hot red chillies - (Mill Hill Food centre - price per weight)
2 medium sized potatoes - (Maris piper Lidl 79p/100g - M&S £1.20/100g)
1 medium sized onion - (Mill Hill Food centre - price per weight)
A handful of fresh chopped parsley -(Mill Hill Food centre - price per weight)
A tblspoon full of turmeric - (Mill Hill Food centre - price per weight)
A tblspoon full of fresh shaved ginger -(Mill Hill Food centre - price per weight)
A teaspoon of organic capers (M&S small jar £4.99)
2 organic stock vegetable cubes (Tesco - £1.90 for 8)
A lemon (Mill Hill Food centre - price per weight)
Half a lime (M&S £1.60 a bag of 5 ,  Iceland £1 a bag of 3)
450 ml Water
2 tblspoons of coconut oil (M&S £3.50 for 300g tub, LIDL £1.19 for a 300g tub)

The fresh items I procure from Mill Hill Food Store I've not priced. It's worth noting that on the items I could find an online for this, the difference in cost was £7.05 for the most expensive to  £4.44 for the least. What is the difference in quality?

Sometimes the answer is when will you be using them? I generally find M&S fruit and veg lasts longer. However, if you are buying a lime to use today, there is no difference. Organic chopped tomatoes? To be honest, I am genuinely not sure but for a soup, I doubt it. Coconut oil? Check the actual ingredients. I am often shocked how things are not what they say on the tin. I've not checked the label of either, but I would before purchasing. I have no doubt that you'll get the best meat in a quality butcher, the best fish from a proper fishmonger. If however, you are buying Oxo cubes, the cheapest is the same as the most expensive and shopping at a cheaper shop simply means that you've got more money for yourself. 

And as for me, it's Rocketfuel Soup for lunch today. I added a bit of beetroot, fresh coriander and some black olives. how does it look?

London Symphonies - "And on the eighth day God created pie and mash"

I had to laugh. I was in a rather swanky bar recently. I was waiting to meet someone and was a bit  bored. I started earwigging, listening to a rather posh chap chtting to a most attractive lady, of Eastern European ancestry (at a guess). As he had enjoyed a few glasses of wine, he was quite loud, so even though I'm deaf I couldn't help but hear. He suggested dinner, in reply, she said it would be nice to try some "real London food" whilst she was in town. He replied "Ha ha ha, there is no such thing! In London, we have the best food from everywhere else, France, Italy, China, India, everywhere, so we never bothered inventing our own dishes". I immediately thought "what is wrong with this dimwit, does he know nothing?". I felt a compelling urge to put this uneducated braggart in his place, but as I have a wife who I am most happy with, taking young ladies from Eastern Europe out for a meal is probably not a sensible idea. Now I am guessing that having read the title of the blog, you probably know what I am talking about. The food of London is Pie and Mash, served in a proper pie and mash shop. Most of these are only open for lunch and shut by 5pm. Proper pies are made of mincemeat, have a slightly burnt crust. The mash should be creamy, without lumps and it should be served in Liquor, a green parsley sauce. If you are doing it properly, you add chilli vinegar and pepper. You eat it with a spoon and fork. If you use a knife, you will be recognised as a novice or a fraud. The more sensible of us will have a two pie serving. This will keep you going all day. Pie and mash shops are not glamourous. They are for working people who want unfussy, tasty and filling food. It is the one cuisine that you really can't go wrong with. It does what it says on the tin and the established Pie and Mash shops in London know what they are doing and quality is always good.

Now it may surprise you to know that I was not raised on pie and mash. In fact I was in my late teens before I first tried it. It was a long journey, but I think my pie and mash story is worth recounting. I live in Mill Hill and this is not pie and mash country. My Dad was an Aussie from the outback, who loved his food and for him, a big steak, which was burned to a cinder was a good dinner. If he ate out, he wanted huge portions of meat or he wasn't really happy. Mum was a Northerner, from Lancashire, who aspired to be posh and she wasn't a fan of working mens cafe's. She had hoped, I think, that her youngest (me) would grow up to be a man of education, elegance, refinement and taste. Sadly, my elder sister Caroline tried to flush me down the bog at three months, having half strangled me on the way. My mother assumed she'd dropped me on my head on the way, so I grew up dyslexic, stupid and rather difficult to get along with. Dad quickly recognised that I was an idiot with no sense and no taste, for Mum the penny took longer to drop. 

As our family were Roman Catholics, Friday was fish and chip day. Dad would return after work, with large boxes of steaming fish and chips, which his six hungry kids greedily devoured. Then, at some point in the mid 1960's, the Pope abolished the fish on Friday rule. Dad informed us that we didn't have to have fish. He took me along "to help" and to choose. Now I loved fish and chips, but I fancied a change, so I ordered a steak and kidney pie. Dad warned me "not much meat in them son". He stuck with fish. When we got home, I hungrily devoured the pie and loved it. From that day forth, for me, Friday was pie and chips day. It became a family joke. I can recall being in Budgens in Mill Hill with my mum. I spotted a Frey Bentos steak and kidney pie in a tin and asked mum if we could have it for dinner. She didn't approve of such things. She wouldn't buy it. I saved up my pocket money and bought it myself. Mum told me I'd be disappointed when I ate it. I wasn't, I loved it. She was horrified. I think this was the moment that she joined my Dad in concluding I was an idiot. From then, a pie was my ultimate idea of a treat. Even for pudding, the only thing I really enjoy is an apple pie, with custard. I hate cheesecakes (plates of gunge), things with chocolate in (too sickly) and worst of all tapioca and semolina (I have the scars from school dinners). 

I also developed fixed ideas of what a pie is. It has to have pastry top and bottom. If it doesn't, then it isn't a pie, it is a stew with pastry on top. The top should be crispy and the bottom soggy and with a taste of suet. So I think you've established that I like a pie. As a teenager, I took to hanging around Camden Town, with a gang of punks. This was around 1977-9. There was one girl I was particularly fond of. I can't recall the exact date, but I ended up crashing at her place, which was a squat in Camden after a gig. We woke up in the late morning and I was starving hungry. I suggested breakfast. She said it was lunchtime. As I'd just done a decorating job, I was flush with money and offered to buy her lunch at the place of her choosing. She said "You ever been to the pie and mash shop?". I hadn't. So we walked around the corner to what I now know was Castles. The menu was simple. Pie and mash. No ifs, no buts. Most cafes youd get a choice, but here it was simple. You came here because you wanted pie and mash. Now I was a big fan of pie and I didn't mind mash. I was also starving hungry, so I ordered a triple pie and mash. She had a single. When it came, I was given a fork and spoon and it was covered in green gunk. She advised me to add some pepper and vinegar, which I did. The pies looked amazing but I wasn't sure about the green gunk. On the other hand, I was starving. I took a bit of pie and some of the gunk and Praise the Lord! It was  delicious. I scoffed down the three pies in the time it took her to have three spoonfuls. We washed it down with a nice cup of tea.

Now I have to be honest here. I was rather besotted with this young lady, so I didn't really take in any of the details, the location of the pie shop or anything else. But it was a magical day for me. To my disappointement, she was going off to Uni shortly and things fizzled out, but my brain was hard wired to love pie and mash from that second forth. London used to be awash with pie and mash shops, but sadly every year one or two close. Mill Hill is a pie and mash free zone, we are all to snobby around here. When I worked in town, I'd always locate a good one as a refuge for lunch. I could escape from my colleagues for an hour. It was always a joy, one I tried to keep to myself. Until 2017, before I stopped working in Central London to concentrate on my studio business. I got out of the habit of crafty visits down to Manze's on Tower Bridge Road, or whichever one was nearest. Since I stopped having easy access, as I now work in Mill Hill, I'd sort of forgotten this guilty pleasure. 

Fortunately my Guardian Angel took me to Oxford City FC with a coachload of Hadley FC supporters in the FA Trophy late last year. At the ground, I had the best steak pie with mash I'd had for years. I mentioned this to a chap called Alan, a fellow supporter and we got onto the subject of pie and mash. He told me that he was a member of a Pie and Mash Appreciation group on Facebook. I was fascinated. On returning home, I immediately joined. One of the first posts I saw was one asking about a pie and mash shop in Borehamwood called Chloe's. Sadly my research lead me to the sad news that it had gone. Unperturbed , I found that there was a cafe called the Brick Lane Bagel Co in the town, which served proper pie and mash. As we had some shopping to do, a stop there seemed like a very good idea. 

I took Clare, promising a tasty bagel (their selection of bagelks looked pretty good, she doesn't eat meat so pie and mash is a no no). Anyway, we went there. I feigned surprise at pie and mash, not that it fooled her. As we went in a chap in Halfords overalls asked if I was there for the pie and mash and recommended the double pie offer. To Clare's annoyance and amusement, he asked if I wanted two plates. I said  "No, just one, she's having a bagel". To her even greater annoyance, he cocked the order up and gave me three pies, having only charged for two. They were wonderful. I realised what I'd been missing. I realised that there was  a London Symophony in the key of pie! So a grand journey started. 

Castles Pie and Masg

The more I thought about it, the more I realised that I needed to make a pilgrimmage to Castle's in Camden Town, where I first fell in love with pie and mash. As I now have a freedom pass, I can do this on my day off. It is only twenty minutes away on the Thameslink and the bus. I found myself back where it all started, two pies and a mug of tea. I swapped a joke with an ambulance crew and for a few short minutes I was in heaven. I got soaked on the walk from the bus stop to the pie emporium, which simply made the pies taste better. God was with me! It got me thinking of the other pie and mash shops I've frequented over the years. 

When I was 20, I worked for a chain of stores called Derek Cousins Discount Stores. They had a large shop in Peckham Rye, which was located conveniently across from a pie shop called Simple Simons. The pie and mash was superb there. However the locals immediately clocked my North London accent and I always felt the eyes of the world were on me. No one was ever hostile, but unlike Camden, when you nodded and said Hi to the customers, they would draw on their roll ups and stare at their copy of The Sun. There was a lovely Carribean lady who worked in the shop. She explained that they assumed I was a Policeman checking out some of the villains that ate in there. She sensibly observed "No one comes from North London to eat pie and mash at Simple Simons". 

This was confirmed, when a rather colourful local character called Sid Turner rented some workshops from my Dad in Bunns Lane Works. Sid was originally from South East London and was what we used to call "a bit of a geezer". My Dad got on with well with Sid, who was always good for a laugh, even if there were suspecions not all of his wealth was legally acquired. Dad liked the fact that Sid was always prepared to try his hand starting new businesses. Sid started what is now The Bunns Lane Car wash, which is still running to this day, albiet with Kosovan ownership. 

I was chatting to Sid one day in the mid 1980's and he mentioned that his favourite restaurant was a pie shop in Peckham. I asked if it was called Simple Simons and he was amazed I knew it. I told him the story of how I got the cold shoulder there. He said "Yeah that was probably me, we were always on the lookout for coppers and grasses poking their noses in". I agreed with him that it was a great place. I joked to him that he should start a Simple Sid's in Burnt Oak. He looked at me and said "That's a brilliant idea", withing six months he'd set it up. He told me that as it was my idea, I could have a free pie and mash anytime I wanted if he was around. Sadly, it only lasted a few years, but it was much loved by the customers. Sid got into property renovations and one of the many crashes cleaned him out and ended the cafe and most of his other enterprises. Happily he bounced back, but never reopened the pie and mash shop. I recall watching Sid chin one of the locals, after they suggested that he was an old man and past it in the cafe. Sid came up to me and apologised for disturbing my dinner, but I replied normally I had to pay for such entertainment and we had a giggle. I was delighted to spot a tweet discussing it on Twitter back in 2017!

@RobertElms I've been trying to find the name of a former pie & mash shop in Burnt Oak which was run by Sid Turner. https://t.co/Q54zzMWQ0S

— Mike Goldwater (@OldSpeckledMike) June 10, 2017

Which brings us to the final stop on this tour. As I mentioned, in more recent times, my favourite pie and mash shop was Manze's on Tower Bridge Road. I've not been there since 2012, when I was working near Tower Bridge, so I thought I'd make a trip down.  A good mate of mine, Mick lives down that way, so I thought I'd meet him there. Being a Northerner, I was worried that he wouldn't get proper London food, but it was a good chance to catch up.

Manze's was just how I remember it. I suspect that almost nothing has changed in decades (apart from the prices). The sign displaying the prices is one of the peg board type signs, so not even a new sign is required when prices change. 

They have a Hall of Fame gallery above the prices, with a signed picture of Roy Orbison taking pride of place. Like all good pie and mash shops, the building is tiled with white and green tiles. 

Everything is functional and huge numbers of pies are dispensed during the course of a day. When I used to work near Tower Bridge, I'd sneak down once a week. I knew a few of the regulars. Once, I was sitting there tucking into my dinner and a fellow sat opposite me and tried to strike up a conversation. After a few pleasantries were exchanged, he said "Tell me, is Jesus in your life?". I don't really like talking to people about my beliefs, not least because generally when people start conversations like this, they don't want to hear my beliefs, they want to explain how their own are superior.

My response took him by surprise. I replied "Yes, Jesus walks every step of the way with me". He was a bit surprised and said "What do you mean?" I replied "He's sitting here with us now, as we speak. Did you know that if Jesus had been a cockney, he'd the last supper would've been pie, mash and a cup of tea?". The chap looked horrified and said "You shouldn't joke about such things, God takes a dim view of people who do not respect him". I replied "I have ultimate respect for God, he has blessed us with many gifts and to me the greatest of all is being able to eat pie and mash in peace and quiet". My new friend got the message. 

I do genuinely believe that when Jesus returns, you'll be far more likely to find him having a pie and mash with his mates, than in swanky restaurants. I don't know if his Dad, God, created pie and mash on the eighth day, once the world was done. What I do know is that it is an honest, simple pleasure should be cherished. As I get older, I've learned to appreciate things, especially things that I love that seem to be slipping away. I feel the need to write a song and make a video that will do justice to my love of our pie and mash shops, but every time I've tried it has turned out a bit too Chas and Dave for my liking. I will get there one day though!

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The Sunday Reflection #41 - How Sundays have changed

Sunday is a very different day now to what it was when I was a kid back in the 1960's. We really live in different world now.  We went out for dinner with friends last night. Myself and my good mate Paul started reminiscing about when we were children and were both alter servers at our respective churches. I was raised in Mill Hill and would serve on a Sunday at the Sacred Heart. Paul was raised in Gravesend. We are about the same age and we were discussing how much things have changed. When we started, Mass was in Latin, we had no idea what they were on about. My elder brother Frank once told me that he went off religion when they stopped saying mass in Latin. Once he realised what they were saying, he decided it was all a load of old tosh. When you received communion, you had to kneel down and stick your tongue out. The Priest would stick a host on it. An alter server would hold a plate under your chin, because they were scared that a piece of the Jesus might fall on the floor and get eaten by mice. At some point, in the early 1970's, they changed the rules. First you didn't have to kneel down, then you could receive the host in your hand. Once that rule was brought in, the plate was dispensed with. At some point in the 1980's, the Church decided that girls could become alter servers. If you took a Roman Catholic from the 1950's and plonked them in the Sacred Heart in 2025, they would probably think they were in a Church of a different denomintation. I stopped being an alter server when I was fourteen and stopped going to mass at the same time. This coincided with my discovery of punk rock and was my way of being a rebel. My Dad was deeply upset and told me that "people like you are ruining the country". To some extent, he undermined his own arguement when he fell out with the Parish Priest and refused to go to the Sacred Heart. For a period, he'd go to the Annunciation in Burnt Oak instead. My Mum, who was recovering from cancer, often decided she was too ill to go to mass. Oddly, she usually recovered by the evening, and would knock back eight pints of Guinness.

It isn't just mass that has changed. Mill Hill Broadway was very different. None of the shops would've been open, apart from the tobacconist, who sold newspapers. You'd know it was the tobacconist, as it would have cigarrette machines outside. These were for any smokers who ran out of ciggies after the shop shut. There was none of the cafe culture we now see on  Sunday. I published a guest blog by my aunt, Audrey Shaw, which detailed the changes in the Broadway between 1958 and 2009. What are now cafe's were things like the electricity show room and the greengrocers. There was literally nothing to do. 

The highlight, for me, of Sunday was The Big Match on ITV. This was presented by Brian Moore and was the highlights from one of the matches on Saturday. The telly was black and white. When I was a wee nipper, it was the only chance I ever got to watch football.  Expert analysis was provided by Jimmy Hill. The pitches, at this time of year, were often quagmires. Much of the match consisted of brutal tackles, an art form perfected by the likes of "Chopper Harris" of Chelsea. The back pass to the goalkeeper was a productive timewasting tactic. Yellow and Red cards had not been brought in. Players were simply booked or sent off, although generally sendings off were reseved for punch ups. Players would sit in the dug out smoking cigarettes. Players were called Dave rather than David, virtually all were white anglo saxons. The chants were aggressive and the terraces were not segregated. If you wanted a punch up, you'd stand near the away fans. You could have a beer on the terraces. In the 1960's, there was no racist chanting, because  there were no black players on the field. That was more a thing of the 1980s. Kits did not have sponsors and the numbers were 1-11. If you were the centre half, you were given the number five jersey and it didn't have your name on it. Just the club badge, no sponsorship. Replica shirts were not on sale, so you wore a scarf to show your allegiance. The grounds had names like Maine Road, Highbury and Highfield Road. They weren't named after foreign airlines etc. Teams like Burnley, Derby County and Nottingham Forest won the league. Jimmy Hill would explain why. We needed Brian Moore to commentate, because the low resolution, black and white tellies meant we didn't know who was on the ball. 

As a Manchester City fan, the best thing was when City won and they were on the Big Match. This happened 3-4 times a season. When you went to a match, you'd be excited if you saw the cameras as you knew you'd see the highlights. When I was little, I wasn't allowed to stay up and watch Match of the Day as it was on too late. The Big Match was on at 3pm on Sunday. The only problem was we only had one telly. No one else in the house liked football, so there was always a bunfight. Being the youngest and smallest, it was by no means a shoe in, but as it was the only football I got to see, it was worth the fight. I found this video from 1969 featuring City Vs West Ham. This was as good as it got on a Sunday for me!

Click Image for tickets

The other feature of Sunday, was it was 'family day'. Roast dinners, tinned peaches with Carnation evaporated milk. After lunch, Mum and Dad would retire to bed for a rest and to read the papers, unless we had guests over. When my brother Frank and sister Cath moved away, we might drive up to their house for lunch. Dad especially liked visiting Cath, because he could hurtle up the M1 to Northampton in his souped up Mk 1 Ford Capri. Frank lived in Chelmsford that was a far more boring drive, just busy A roads (no M25). Mum was not a fan of Dad's drving. He was a maniac behind the wheel. There were no speed cameras, so you only got nicked if  a police car caught you speeding. This wasn't a concern to my Dad. For him, driving was fun. Would anyone drive up the M1 for fun today?

Sunday was a very different day to the rest of the week. I wrote a song and made a video about this a couple of years ago, called Sunday in th 70's (See below). And on the subject of Sundays, next Sunday will see the 46th Birthday party for my band, The False Dots at The Dublin Castle. Please come down and say Hi!

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The blog my mate Mick said I couldn't write!

Old farts talking bollox!

 I was out for a beer in Aldgate with two of my old work mates Mick and Mark yesterday in the Brown Bear in Aldgate. Mick commented that he believes my blogs are too long and should only be three sentences long, suggesting I couldn't manage to write such a blog. 

Well this one is for you Mick!

The Saturday List #471 - Ten events that have inspired me to write a song!

1. "My best mate Pete, you know he came a cropper, went down a manhole on his brand new chopper".

This week, my band, The False Dots released a new video of our song Wacky Races. The second verse details the near demise of our original lead singer, Pete Conway, when he was at primary school. Pete's Dad bought him a bike for his birthday. Pete lived on Engel Park, which has a steep hill. Pete immediately jumped on the bike, hurtled down the hill and went down a manhole. He was off school for months. The nuns all asked us to pray for "Poor Peter". When he came back, he was a changed character, a lot more serious and he could be a bit strange at times. That's probably why he was a mate! 

2. "Dad threw a party, I can't remember why". Actually I have remembered. It was a fund raiser for our local Church. I am pretty sure that it was for a Catholic anti abortion charity. All of the local community came along. It was a right old hoot, I think it was around 1974. There were punch ups, people being sick in the garden, dancing on the tables. At the end of the evening, I said to my Dad "That went well!". His response stunned me. He said "What a bunch of hypocrites that lot are. If any of their daughters got knocked up, they'd be first in the queue for an abortion, to spare the family embarrassment". I said "Why did you have a party then?" He said "I love a good party and it was the only way I could persuade your mother to have one". He added "You'll learn that a lot of people have principles until it is inconvenient". I was none the wiser on his views on the issue. 

3. "My surrogate grandma, she lived on homefield road, married to a caretaker, a lovely bloke called Joe". I had no grandparents. They'd all died by the time I was born. None of my siblings new my Dad's parents, they'd died before he came to the UK. My mothers father died in 1948, my brothers were two. My mums mum died in 1960, two years before I was born. I was always jealous of my siblings for having been able to spend time with someone who by all accounts was lovely. Shortly after I was born, my mum decided to get a lady to clean the house. Mrs Annie O'Keefe turned up. I tiny Irish lady who lived in Burnt Oak. I loved her and she loved me. She was the Grandma I never had. Even after she retired, I'd nip in to see her for a cup of tea and a biscuit on the way home from Orange Hill. The one thing I learned from Annie is that if you have love in your life, you need nothing else. She was always kind and generous and made me feel welcome. When my Mum was having treatment for cancer, I lived with her for a few weeks. She had a scruffy old dog called Beauty and her husband bred budgeriegars in a shed in the garden. When I first started writing the Burnt Oak Boogie, it was going to be called "I'm dreaming of a bacon sandwich" and be about the Betta Cafe. Then I thought about Annie and I realised that the one thing that people never seem to mention when they talk about Burnt Oak is the people and the strength of the community. It became a very different song and better for it. 

4. "Distant hearts, will scream tonight, it's face to face, you and I, one of us will not survive, please not me, I love my life". I doubt there has ever been a song that has been so determined to be heard. Back in 1983, I was getting the 113 bus back from town. A mate of mine called Geoff got on. Geoff had been in the Royal Marines in The Falklands. When he left, he was a funny, happy go lucky boy. I was delighted to see him. As we chatted I was horrified. He had completely changed. He told me about killing Argentinian soldiers on the battlefield. He had a deep darkness in his soul and his eyes lacked compassion. I felt really uncomfortable. I went home and started to write a song about what he'd told me. It was in four parts, the first part is about the fears of his family, waiting for news bulletins, as they know he is going action. The second part was the rallying cry of the drill sargeant, turning boys into men. The third part was my commentary on the general concept of war. Me, the lilly livered, lefty anti war liberal. The fourth part is Geoff, face to face with the enemy, killing to survive, unthinking as to anything other than survival. I wrote a draft, put a simple Am /// Em /// guitar riff and deciced it didn't work. I put it in the 'unfinished songs pile. I didn't like it. When Venessa Sagoe joined the band, she went through the pile and decided she liked it. I was gobsmacked. We started playing it at rehearsal and it was brilliant (much to my surprise). The song has resisted all attempts to jazz it up, restructure the chord sequence etc. It is a tough old bastard of a song. I saw Geoff about five years after the bus journey. He was back to himself. He told me he'd gone to Nepal and spent six months up a mountain smoking dope to rediscover himself.

5. "When I know my cancer's terminal, it's gonna set me free, it will lift me from this evil and the agony that it brings". I wrote Buy me a bottle of jack to distill my dark thoughts about prostate cancer.

6. "We've all got a mate, like my old mate Joe, he had the smartest motor and he'd always let you know, he'd take it to the Orange tree, he had the gift of the gab, he knew the girls would go for it, far cheaper than a cab".  Men and Motors is about the lads who worked in the local motor trade. These lines were inspired by our former bassplayers Paul Hircombe's brother. He worked in a tyre shop and always had a smart motor. He took it to the Orange Tree, a girl who was with her fiancee was so impressed that she dumped the fiancee on the spot and went off with him for a spin! As far as I know they are still married. 

7. "The only one who wins, is the man who takes the bet. The bookies simply look for mugs, who deserve just what they get". A great friend of mine saw her marriage fall apart due to her spouse being a compulsive gambler. I wanted to write a song about gambling that was funny, but got the point over. I think Longshot Didn't DIe works rather well!

8. "Then one day, she won't be there, she can't have taken enough care, she met someone that she used to know, she paked her bags and had to go". Like many songs, Not all she seems is a mash up of a few different incidents. It is the story of a trans girl, who fled a bigoted small town, came to London, worked as a sex worker and developed a drug habit and was 'run' by a violent pimp. She managed to escape his clutches, only for him to track her down. She escaped and was never seen again. The real ending is not so happy. I co wrote this with Pete Conway when we were sixteen. We were trying to be like the Velvet Underground and we were trying to write the most shocking song possible. In fact it is rather tender.

9. Pauls song. A five minute instrumental. This was originally written by Paul Hircombe, our old bassplayer. When we started the band, Paul sang a couple of tunes, but his voice was so quiet that people would joke "Paul sings the instrumentals". Being The False Dots, we wrote an instrumental and called it Pauls song! If you like five minute guitar solos, it is a masterpiece!

10. "The harder they come, the harder they fall, when your at the bottom, the drop is small". I wrote this as I watched a friend disintegrate into drug addiction before my eyes. I hoped that music would be his redemption. It wasn't

Today will be the day you die!

 Did that get your attention? Well it must have because you are still reading the blog. And do you know what? It is absolutely true. The moment it happens, you will be living in 'today'. Will you be ready? In the week ending 17th January 2025, 14,765 people in England and Wales passed away. Around 20% died of influenza or pneumonia, and 0.6% involved covid. So around a fifth of the people who left this mortal coil, were hurried along by an infectious disease. Most would not have been expecting this, as they tucked into the their Xmas dinner or celebrated New Year. Then there are accidents. The British Safety Council reports 

"The total rate of accidental deaths in the UK has increased by 42 per cent in the last decade, RoSPA’s figures show. Accidents are responsible for 20,000 deaths a year – almost half of which are the result of falls. Poisonings were the second biggest cause of accidental death in 2022, accounting for 26 per cent of deaths after seeing a 96 per cent increase over the last decade. Deaths caused by road traffic accidents have fallen 17 per cent in the past 10 years and accounted for seven per cent of accidental deaths in 2022." 

I was quite staggered to read that the rate of accidental deaths has risen by 42% in ten years. Even more alarming is the rate of poisonings, going up by 96%. Then there is suicide, The Samaritans report

 Data from 2022 is the latest occurrence data released by the Central Statistics Office. The following figures are accurate as of 25 November 2024: 436 people died by suicide in 2022 - 346 males (79%) and 90 females (21%) The overall suicide rate was 8.6 per 100,000  The male suicide rate was 13.9 per 100,000, compared to the female suicide rate of 3.5 per 100,000

Most of us think that if we died suddenly, it will be a heart attack. According to the British Heart Foundation, this affects about 500 people a year. 

I could make a few points, if you don't fancy an unexpected death, get vaccinated against flu and covid, take care whilst driving and around the home, be careful with poisons and get a general check up for other fatal medical conditions, especially cardiac issues if there is a history in the family, and check in on friends who are having a heard time but that is not what this blog is about (but hey, I love y'all so I want you to stick around). 

Dad swimming with Mum & my nephew Laurence
in Florida 4 days before he died

The point I'm making is a lot of us will shuffle off this mortal coil a lot quicker than they expect. If you ask most people, they are not ready to go, they still have things to do, places to go, people to see, etc. My Mum was one of the few people I know who was ready to go. She was 83, her eyesight had deteriorated to the point that she couldn't read. She was virtually housebound and in ill health and she told me that Guinness and Scotch were what made life bearable. But she also said that she had no regrets at all. She'd done all the things she wanted to do in life. Married, had six kids, Grandchildren, Great Grandchildren, travelled the world, been successful in business and had good friends. As most of her friends had passed and she felt she was a burden on us, she wasn't bothered about living. The Doctors told her to stop drinking and go on blood thinners, or she'd die within a year. She drank like a fish and lived for another 18 months. I was her youngest child. I was on holiday in France with her, the week before she passed away. She told me a couple of things that I've never shared with my siblings, but I think the time is right. The first thing was that she said she was terrified that one of us would die before she did. She said that if this happened, it would kill her. She said that if that happened, she would feel very selfish as it would detract from the real tragedy of the death of a younger family member. She said "parents should always die before their children". At the time, my eldest brothers (they are twins) were sixty three and in good health. She said "Roger, Laurie (my Dad) was swimming in Florida three days before he passed away, you never know". The second thing, which to me was even more disturbing was "I can't stand the way you all think I'm an idiot. I am cleverer than all of you but I can't speak properly. You are only happy when I sit here smiling like a fool". She'd had a stroke a few years before and suffered from a condition called Jargon Aphasia, which made it hard for her to express herself.  It was possibly the only time I realised just how angry she was with her situation. I found that if I had a couple of Guinness with her and she relaxed, the condition would abate. Sometimes she'd speak lucidly for five to ten minutes. Then she'd get stuck and panic and get upset. I told her that we all understood her condition and no one thought she was an idiot. She simply snapped back "You really think I'm stupid don't you" and refused to communicate further. 

Immediately after our holiday in France, I flew with my wife and children to San Francisco. My plan had been to have a chat with my siblings, upon my return, as to what Mum said and to work out a way to show we didn't think she was stupid and worthless. I felt it was really important for us to make her aware that we didn't think she was a moron. Sadly she passed away, three days after I arrived in the USA, after another massive stroke. I never had the conversation, the need had gone. But it has troubled me. As I was in the USA I wasn't with her when she passed. I got a call that she'd had the stroke at 2am. in the morning and another call at around 6am to say she'd gone. My brothers and sisters were around her. A little bit of me always felt that she went when I wasn't around deliberately. It is not a rational thought, but one that has troubled me. She left, leaving me feeling that I had not said the things I wanted to say. I am not sure that the opportunity was truly there to do it in the circumstances, we didn't expect her to go. The point is that we always have less time to do things than we think. When people we love die, more often than not, we feel we have unfinished business.

When I asked my siblings about my Mum's last moments, one of the things they said genuinely surprisied me. She seemed to be genuinely surprised that she was dying, as if, even with the illness and unhappiness she had, she wasn't quite ready. I guess we'll never really know what was going through her head, but it reminded me of when I was run over in Burnt Oak in 1988. In the seconds when I saw the car racing towards me, realising it would hit me and I couldn't avoid this, time slowed down. I felt an extraordinary sense of peace. The only real thought I had was how nice it would be to see my Dad, who had passed the previous year, again. Of course I survived, but my brain had prepared me to go. I realised that the billions of years of evolution has made our brains have a switching off mechanisim, that prepares us for the inevitable. I've not been afraid of death since. It is greatly reassurring to me. 

Many people who have medically died, then been resuscitated have reported similar near death experiences, often floating above their body. They then feel they head towards a light, before being pulled back, For many, there is a sense of happiness and peace. I didn't have that as I didn't actually pass out, but for many, the NDE often ignites a deeper spiritual awareness. Some feel that they have been given a second chance and a need to make amends. It seems to be a deeply personal experience, with different people affected in different ways. My sister, who was a hospice nurse for a couple of decades told me that generally spiritual people tend to have spiritual deaths and people who aren't spiritual don't. We all live in our own reality. I have found that non spiritual people tend to find the concept of death more difficult to deal with. They can deal with the practicalities, but don't really like thinking about the subject. Believers tend to be more open to discussions. I guess that if you feel it all ends and there is nothing, there is not much to discuss.

When we talk about preparing for death, we generally are talking about something else. We are talking about making arrangements, so those who are still alive, have the least aggrevation and bother. We rarely, when fit, healthy and active, say "If I passed away today, would I be happy with my lifes work?". When you are twenty two, such questions don't seem to matter. Now I'm sixty two, more of my life is behind me than in front of me. You can't change the past, but there is still the opportunity to change the future, but the clock is ticking. If I make tomorrow (which I hope is highly likely) another day will have passed. I have things to do. 

One of the things I feel a compulsion to do is to write this blog. I want to try and say things that seem to me to be important, but that nobody else seems to be saying. In the early years, much of this was about shenanigans at Barnet Council. That is still important to me. What is becoming more important to me, is to write about subjects that seem to have a taboo about them. Death seems to be the biggest to me. Our TV's etc are awash with dramas where people die all the time.  Most of us grieve for months or years, but in TV dramas, it is usually a 30 second scene by a grave and then the person is forgotten. In action movies, dozens die and no one bats an eyelid. In Gangsta Rap music we have aggressive lyrics about killing and maiming people. Culturally we don't seem to want to face up to the reality that most of us experience when there is a death. Even worse, we don't think about our own death. When I read about teenagers getting stabbed, I wonder how many of those young people realise what they are throwing away, when they get involved with knives, gungs and violence? 

My view is that if we want to make the world a better place, we should start by having a general recognition that life is a precious thing. We should cherish our own lives as well as everyone elses. We should work to make our journey as good an experience for us and the people we interact with as we can. We should recognise that it can end at any time and we should aim to depart with as few regrets as we can, whilst recognising that some regrets are unavoidable and we really couldn't avoid them. 

For me, the dawning of this realisation has come with a productive spell in my musical career and output. After lockdown, our band, The False Dots took a conscious decision to move away from rather introspective music, to a more accessible and fun version of what we were doing. Our mission is very much to put some happiness into the lives of people who listen to our music. We do this by telling stories and putting tunes together that people can dance to. I feel like it is working for me. Today. Who knows what tomorrow will bring. I can only change today.

*****
The band celebrate our 46th Birthday on Sunday 16th February at The Dublin Castle from 2pm. Here is a snippet of what you can expect to see! CLICK HERE FOR TICKETS

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Rog T's Food Blog #3 - Two great restaurants in two days!

One of the things I've been looking forward to writing about here is the great places to eat that I visit in London. Last week, I visited two. One was a second visit, the other was a new place for me. Lets start with Friday night. We were going to see Lovers Rock legend Carroll Thompson at Ronnie Scotts. A group of seven of us were meeting beforehand for something to eat. Last year we had a good meal at Prixe Fix on Dean Street. They do a deal where you get a discount if you order before 6pm (sorry I couldn't find the deal) so we booked for 5.45pm. We have been there before and always had good meals and found the staff friendly. For a starter I selected Aubergine roulade stuffed with chickpea & tahini mash, tomato and fresh basil sauce to start and followed that with a main course of House smoked, braised Beef short ribs with smoked aubergine, mushroom and barley Risotto. For dessert, I had Traditional Apple Tarte Tatin with vanilla ice cream for dessert.  We washed it down with the House Red. The aubergine was very tasty and enjoyable. The ingredients were fresh, which to my mind makes a big difference, especially with herbs like Basil.  

The smoked beef short rib was delicious, falling from the bone. I loved the smokiness. I've never thought about doing a smoked beef short rib, so it will definitely be something I try myself in the summer, when we get to barbeque season. For me, this was a successful visit as I got an idea for a recipe to try. I've never tried smoking meats before and this really pricked my interest. Should this work out, I'll share it. The apple tarte was perfectly pleasant. I am not really a pudding person, but we had time to kill so it seemed polite to have something! The staff are pleasant and the ambience is good. I would go as far as to say it's probably our current favourite pre show restaurant in the West End. In short good food and good value. Trip advisor rates it as #610 out of #21,617 London restaurants. I had a look through the reviews and the bad ones were by and large pretty old. I suspect that it would score higher with recent reviews.

On Saturday, we were in Camden Town for funk legends, The Real Thing at The Jazz Cafe. We again met friends for a pre gig meal. We settled on Andy's Taverna on Pratt Street. If I am honest, Greek cuisine is not something I eat a lot of.  Grilled meats and kebabs are something I tend to associate more with holidays to the Med, where after a few days of the same sort of food I get bored with it. However our friends were keen and I am not a Prima Donna, so we agreed. I was pleasantly surprised. I opted for the mixed Mezze for £22. It would give me a chance to sample a wide range of their wares. It included a Kleftiko, which my Greek mates tell me is usually the way to gauge a good restaurant. The cold starters, humous, tzatsiki, taramasalata, etc were the usual fare. Tasty and fresh, the bread was also nice and fresh. The hot starters of calamari, haloumi and bacon were also fresh and tasty.  The main course was a selection of grilled meats, chicken, lamb, sausages and the aforementioned kleftiko. When they came out there was suitably large portion and it was all cooked to perfection. The Kleftiko was superb. Our group all agreed that it was excellent and we will definitely be back. The restaurant is ranked #24 of 21,617 London restaurants. The ranking is well deserved.

Two great gigs, two great great meal's. What is not to like! As  a general rule (and rules are made to be broken) most of my reviews will be of places that are great places to eat as part of a night out. It will be one of the themes of the food blog. To me, food is part of a picture and I think this is something many other food bloggers seem to miss. 

Donald Trump has just started the Third World War but no one has noticed!

 Something very strange is going on in the World today. We have a war between Russia and Ukraine. We have a terrible conflict between Hamas and Israel, where tens of thousands have died and despite a ceasefire, it is almost impossible to imagine a scenario where there will be a fair, just and lasting peace deal. You would think that a new President, taking over the mantle of Leader of The Free World, would be looking at this situation and thinking "How can I make sure all of my allies are lined up behind me, so we can present a United front and ensure maximum leverage on those parties that we need to force to the negotiating table". That is not how Donald Trump thinks. His first major foreign policy moves are not in these regions. He has targetted neighbours and allies, Canada and Mexico with trade sanctions. The most bizarre aspect of this, is that the pretext is to stop the cross border trade in Fentanyl (a super strong opiate). He has also informed Denmark that he wants them to hand over Greenland to the USA, starting a row with a small country on a different comntinent that has, up to now always been a staunch ally. He has told the EU, an organisation I would have assumed he'd want onside against Russia, that he is planning sanctions against them. China, not an ally, but the one country with some sort of leverage against Russia is also in his sights. 

Now the obvious observation is that he is cracking the whip to show both foes and allies who is the boss. He is laying down his cards to get massive trade concessions. He is acting like a property speculator, ruthlessly trying to put together a mega deal, and using every trick in the book to maximise his profits. That was my assumption when I first started to hear of these proclamations. Then I thought about it and analysed what he is doing and saying. He has said that he wants both Greenland and Canada to become part of the USA. He's not talking about doing nice trade deals that are a bit better for America, he's talking about a full on land grab. Western Democracies have made the mistake in the past of misreading the territorial ambitions of despots. Wars rarely start with armies marching across borders. They start with a period of economic attacks on the enemy, ever increasing claims a false flags, negotitations that are designed to fail and when all of these have set up a permissive environment, the troops walk in. 

When I first heard about the link between Fentanyl and the sanctions I was completely baffled, but Trump is portraying this as a threat to Americans that needs to be dealt with. The genie is out of the bottle. He has to do something that demonstrated that his policy is working or he will look like a fool. If he'd said that Canada and Mexico simply had bad trade deals, that would be a completely different thing. He hasn't. The USA has the most robust economy on the planet, Mexico and Canada combined do not have the GDP of California, let alone the USA. The concept that these economies are a threat to the USA is ridiculous, so Trump has chosen drugs. There is no doubt that Fentanyl is killing a huge number of Americans. Nearly 90,000 died of drug overdoses in 2024. If this many people were killed in an atatck by a hostile power, it would be a devastating act of war. Trump playing this card against Canada and Mexico is one that is hard to see as anything other than the start of a very hostile campaign against his neighbours. The sad truth, one which Trump ignores, is that it is the failure of US policies that has caused the crisis, but one that suits an expansionist agenda.

It is highy unlikely that trade tariffs will disrupt the movement of narcotics across the borders of the USA and I don't believe that this is what Trump is looking for. I believe that his goal is to enshrine himself in history as the greatest ever US President and I am coming around to the idea that he believes his lasting legacy will be to expand the territory of the United States of America. So what does he really want? Lets start with Mexico. I don't believe that Trump wants to conquer Mexico. If the country becomes the 51st State, then every Mexican could move to wherever they wanted in the USA, which sort of defeats the policies he's been espousing for years. Far more likely however would be a limited operation to carve out a buffer area between the USA and Mexico. Just suppose that between the current US border and Mexico, there was a 'sterile corridor' 20 miles deep, then it would be a hell of a lot more difficult to climb over fences or tunnel under them. Mexico couldn't hope to win a war against the USA, something Trump knows. Maybe he could bully them into such an idea or maybe he could just send the army in to do it and tell Mexico that if they shoot at his troops, he'll send a full scale invasion. Would Mexico risk a retaliation? The one thing we can all be 100% sure of is that Trump doesn't give a stuff for Mexican sensibilities. 

Then there is Canada. Trump has spoken openly about Canada becoming the 51st State. The USA and Canada are democracies. I really can't see how Trump could compel Canada to join the Union if they didn't want to. If the USA was set on invading Canada, they clearly could with not too much of a problem, but sooner or later, Canadians would have to vote to ratify the union and that might prove rather embarrassing all round. I'd be surprised if bullying Canada to do anything would prove to be anything other than very counter productive. But who knows the mind of Donald Trump. Canada is a rich country with huge mineral wealth, which Trump clearly feels is ripe for picking. His property developer mentality will surely not take much convincing that a bit of bullying, a few threats and some sort of nice carrot to go with the stick, might get him what he wants. 

As for Greenland, again there would be no obstacle to the USA if he just chose to annexe it. Denmark is clearly not in a position to defend itself. I can see no reason for Trump to raise this issue if he isn't serious. Given that Denmark is a member of NATO and the EU, any annexation would surely spell the end of NATO and a huge stand off with the EU.

In George Orwell's 1984, there were three great political blocks. Oceana, Eurasia and East Asia, all constantly shifting alliances, all in a constant state of war, but mostly conducted as skirmishes in remote places. It is not beyond the realms of possibility that Trumps shenanigans will push the EU closer to China. It strikes me that if China play their cards right then they can be the big winners of the Trump era. The US sanctions will make them keen to open up new markets and do new trade deals to fill the gaps. The US seems intent on upsetting its friends, so this opens up possibilities for a regime that can take the long term view. By the time the US has a president who is interested in engaging with the outside world as friends and partners, the damage will be done. It is not a given that the next President will be any more international in their thinking than Trump.

I've long been of the belief that the third World War will not be fought with guns. Nuclear weapons make the concept of a large scale conventional war ridiculous. Putin has found that having half the worlds stockpile of nukes has done him no good at all in Ukraine. Israel has seemingly had a major victory over it's main Geopolitical adversary, Iran, without a single boot setting foot in Iranian territory. Blowing your enemies to bits with dodgy pagers and mobile phones is a very 21st century way of doing war. I suspect that before the end of the century, we'll see a country lose it's sovereignty purley as a result of hacking of it's computers, banking systems, transport systems and finance systems. If you woke up one day and your computers didn't work, all your cash was gone, there were no trains, buses or planes and no TV or Radio, you might find yourself under a foreign juresdiction without even realising and without a bullet being fired. Information will be the new weapon. 

Which brings us to today, 3rd February 2025.  I believe that Donald Trump has started this war. I believe it will escalate over the next few years. It will cost us all a lot of money and make a lot of things we currently take for granted a lot more difficult. I don't think too many bullets will be fired, but I wouldn't be at all surprised if a few maps need redrafting in the not too distant future. 

Oh yeah, one thing I forgot to mention. The US economy has always done very well when there is a war and I am sure that Trumps rich backers are all too happy to see the benefits of what is going on. 

Welcome to the new world!

The Sunday Reflection #40 - Why don't they teach us how to grieve at school

 Friday was the 38th anniversary of the death of my Dad. I was 24 at the time. It was totally unexpected and I was completely unpreprepared mentally for the shock. I'd naively assumed that he was indestructable. A massive anuerism proved me wrong. For many, if not all of us, the most difficult thing in our lives to deal with is a death of someone we love. A child, a partner, a parent. I've spoken before about how badly we are prepared for the practicalities of bereavement, but it has recently occurred to me that we are even less prepared for the mental effects of the loss of someone we love. Unless we die young, the chances are we will all suffer the experience. What troubles me is that we do not have the tools to get our heads in the right place when this strikes. 

I have long been of the opinion that our schools are not fit for purpose. We have-12-14 years of enforced education about things that most of us will never use, algebra, the shifting nature of tectonic plates and the life of Henry II. All fasacinating stuff if you like that sort of thing, but for me it was like a mental cold shower. When it comes to educating us to actually deal with a sudden tragic death, we are on our own. How did I deal with my Fathers death. In two ways, alcoholic excess and denial. I believed that discussing it and sharing my pain was weakness. I didn't want to think of it. I gave my Mum alost no support, in truth I was a bit angry with her. She was even more bereft than me and she couldn't really share her feelings either. She took to her bed with her bad back and other ailments and was thoroughly miserable for the best part of a year. This is not a criticism. Much later, we became a lot closer. She confided that she always thought they'd die together in a plane or car crash. She had felt it was written in the stars. She was angry with my father for having the audacity to die and break this sacred pact. My mother was an intelligent woman, who had far more experience of life than me at the time and her admission was something I found bizarre at the time. I came to realise that my father had always tried to cultivate an aura of invincibility and he'd totally fooled my mum and the rest of us. 

So what should we be taught in a lesson. The first thing is that none of us are immortal and many of us will die unexpectedly. That is all part of the journey planet Earth makes as it circles the Sun. The circle of life, the circle of death. Some of us will get the chance to prepare ourselves. Some of us won't. For some of us, we just get a phonecall or a knock on the door, or like my poor Mum, you get up to make breakfast and find your partner dead on the floor. Realising that all of these things can happen is little help, so we then need to know what to do next. We also need to prepare ourselves for the stages of grief and the implications of these. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. When my Dad died, the denial lasted a year. It only ended when a mate's Dad died and I saw what was happening with perspective. The bargaining phase, where you try and make a deal with God to bring the person back or to reconcile your own unresolved issues is the hardest to understand, depression sets in when yoy realise that there is no bargain to be done. The hand has been played. Acceptence comes when you finally are ready to move on, celebrate the life of the person who has passed and celebrate the life of the person you love. It is worth mentioning that some people never get past the first, second or third stage. I think acceptance is easier with a parent than a partner or a child. These processes happen at their own rate. You can't hurry on the denial or depression stage, but you can make them easier to bear. 

We should never be afraid to share our experiences with other people in the same situation. I only started to move on, when other friends started to lose parents. In recent years, friends have lost children and partners. I don't have any experience of this, but I have experience of listening and I hope I have enough compassion to help. But again, it does strike me that anything I've learned is by trial and error. Surely it would be compassionate to eliminate the errors. If schools taught about the phases of grief, how we deal with them and how we be a good friend to someone going through that cycle, it would save a lot of hurt.

I expounded this theory to a particularly obnoxious person I know a few years ago, when we were still on amicable terms. He laughed and said "School exists to support the economy, provide us with the skills to contribute to the wealth of the country, not to cheer people up when they are miserable". I was shocked, this may have been the first clue that we would not have an enduring friendship. As I was in a period of grief at the time, I was unprepared for the comment and just sat their with my mouth open as the said person sniggered. I have realised that his comment was actually enlightening. This is the reason why our schools are so dysfunctional. He made the same mistake that so many people who design school curriculms make. You see, when someone is gpoing through grief, they are not only sad and miserable, they are less productive. So even if you are heartless and only see things through the prism of the economy, it still make sense.

I still miss Dad. Many of my songs reference him. He did love a party, so this is how I best love to think of him, organising mad parties in the 1970's. Just a quick reminder the False Dots are playing our 46th Birthday Party at The Dublin Castle, Camden from 2pm on Sunday 16th February. Please come along! 

The Saturday List #470 - Ten things I didn't appreciate at the time

 As often happens, The Robert Elms show on BBC Radio London informs my choice of this list. Sometimes, I have a few lists in the cupboard. Sometimes the cupboard is dry. I don't do lists when I can't think of anything interesting. Our Saturday morning routine is pretty fixed. My beloved brings me the paper and a cup of tea in bed at around 8am. I listen to Carrie and David Grant on BBC Radio London then Robert Elms at 10am. I then get up around then and make us both a cooked breakfast. I haave porridge made with water in the week, so it's a treat. Usually it is an omlette (she doesn't eat meat). I then do my Saturday blog. If the cupboard is full, it's a final edit and press publish. Today, I was eating my omlette and trying to think if there was anything that would make an interesting list. As it's the 470th, the low hanging fruit has been picked. Then Robert announced his 'Fourfer' - four tracks selected by callers on a theme. Todays theme? Bob Marley. Robert mentioned he'd seen Bob at an open air gig at Crystal Palace. He stated that he didn't like open air gigs. I had completely forgotten that I'd seen the gig as well. I googled it. It was bizarre, there was a lake in front of the band, which sort of destroyed any sense of intimacy. All I really remember was sunshine, beer and smoke. I also remembered vowing I'd never go there again. It was like a day at the seaside with your mates in the sun, with a band in the distance. I don't think I listened to the band at all. It was the only time I saw Marley. it was his last UK gig. We didn't know. I didn't appreciate it. I wasn't massively into Marley. As he#d become a massive superstar, I felt he'd lost touch with his roots. I preferred more grassroots bands such as Misty in Roots, Culture, Aswad and Black Slate. I also preferred Ska to more sedate reggae. But I got a ticket, possibly via my Sister, who knew someone at Marley's label (if my memory serves me correctly). I went for a day out. A good day out was had. I didn't appreciate it at all. 

In truth, I only recently properly revisted Marley's work. It's not that I didn't like it, It just wasn't on y playlist. I had a bit of a snobby view that most of my mates who eulogised Marley didn't listen to any other reggae and he was their token like in the genre. My view changed when my I saw my mate Joe Angel's band. Joe did a lot of Marley songs. You can't get more authentic reggae than Joe and I realised I'd been arrogant and silly to not appreciate how fine Marley was. 

Anyway, it got me thinking. What have I not appreciated at the time, that I now love? A fine topic for a list

1. Bob Marley.  See above!

2. The Clash. This is a bit of a dark secret. When I first got into punk rock, I didn't really like The Clash. I had liked their first album. Then they released Give 'em enough rope and I thought it was terrible. I hated it. I saw them at a Rock Against Racism gig at Victoria Park and I would say they were no good, but in truth the sound system was inadequate. So I didn't bother going to see them in their prime. When they released Combat Rock, I loved it, but I wasn't there at their best gigs. 

3. SPL International. My first 'proper job',  I started there in 1983. They were a UK based software company based on Windmill Street. The culture was completely bonkers. The vast majority of staff were recent graduates, from all around the UK. Every night and most lunchtimes, we''d all go to the pub. Fridays we'd go to the Neel Kamal on Percy Street for a curry, then to the White Hart for a beer. The boss had a drinks cabinet and if any staff were feeling down, he'd pour them a scotch and have a chat with them. We played 5-a-side football, got bacon rolls from Lawleys cafe on Goodge Street. It was amazing. Sadly, in 1984, Systems Designers bought the company and ruined everything. I assumed that all jobs were like SPL. How wrong I was. I still go on holiday at new year with the mates I maade at SPL.

4. Smelly diesel trains from Mill Hill. When I first started at SPL, I'd get a smelly diesel train from Mill Hill to St Pancras and then walk to Windmill Street. The trains were always boiling in summer and freezing in Winter. Shortly after I started, they were replaced by brand new electric trains. You may wonder what is to be missed? Well there were three things I loved. The first was when you sat at the front, if the driver was nice, he'd leave the privacy screen blinds open and you could watch him drive the train. When I was a kid, the most exciting bit was going through the Belzise New Tunnel under Hampstead Heath. It is over a mile long. You can't see the end of the tunnel when you enter it. All of a sudden there is a glimmer of light as you approach. It was wonderful. The new trains do not allow such fun. The second thing is the seats were really comfy. The third was that they had manual doors. You could jump on even if the train was pulling out. Highly dangerous, but a real buzz!

5. Woolworths. One of the most common and annoying (to me) myths of common times is that the reason Woolworths went bust was because the business model was not fit for the 21st century. This is a complete fabrication put around by asset stripping bean counters. Woolworths was a robust business with a huge property portfolio. A bunch of asset strippers bought the business, sold the property to developers and then rented the shops back to a hollowed out shell. The cash raised was not put into developing the business, it was paid in massive dividends to the asset strippers. The shops were rented back, on a rent fixed for a period. When this was up, the property developers hiked the rent, to force the business out, so they could make a killing on new leases in prestigious High Street locations. But to me Woolworths was great. I'd take teh kids for pick and mix, buy them toys, buy CD's and cheap tools. I believe that the decline of High Streets was brought about by the ransacking of Woolworths. Woolworths was just always there, when it went I realised how much I missed it. 

6. The other long lost small shops of Mill Hill. This was the subject of the 12th list in this series

7. Smoking in pubs. I don't smoke. Why would I miss something that I hated at the time? Because when smoking was banned, a huge percentage of the patrons stopeped going. It was the end of pubs as we know it. In my opinion, the ban ruined British culture. I never thought I'd miss something as disgusting as that, but I do. 

8. The smell of bonfires in the autumn. You'd always know it was autumn because neighbours would burn their garden waste. I loved it. These days we have green bins. I can't recall the last time I smelled leaves being burned in a Millway back garden.

9. Gerry Anderson. Thunderbirds, Captain Scarlett, UFO. Proper childrens TV shows. The idea that children would enjoy science fiction series on TV seems to be a long lost concept. I even wrote a song celebrating the genre of sci fi TV shows! (See below). I just took it for granted at the time.

10. Mrs Grover. Mrs Grover was my next door neighbour for many years. She was a lovely old lady, who lived with her sister, Sadie. Sadie is now someone we'd describe as having learning difficulties. She was always pleasant. We'd have a chat. I'd occasionally do an errand for her. One day, Sadie came out and told me she wouldn't wake up. She had passed away. I asssume Sadie went to a home to be looked after and the family sold the house. The flat was sold to a scouser, who turned out to be a mass murderer on the run from the Police. He made the front page of The Sun. His family let the flat out to a succession of tenants, some lovely, some horrible. All got booted out because they fell out with their landlords. A couple of years ago, they sold it. We've had nothing but building works since. I really miss the Grovers, their apple trees, loganberies and smiles.  God bless them.

As promised, here's a tune from The False Dots recalling my obsession with Sci Fi.

And finally, please come along to our next gig. Have a beer and say Hi! Click on the image for ticket info.