Wednesday 11 February 2009

Hitler, vegetable plots, macho embroidery and a new look at hope.

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Monday found me surrounded by tanks, war memorabilia, lots of rain, and not a few school children: My first visit to the Imperial War Museum with the hubster. I can't say as I was overly impressed by much of the obvious, while Rob enjoyed reading about the machines that blew people and homes to smithereens. I did enjoy bits of the history I saw however.

We headed to the lower level after viewing all the bombs and planes, the submarine experience, and buses turned war transport. After visiting the shelter reinactment, which was a bit dull, but at least one of the old timers that sat with us sang along with the old tunes being piped through the speakers, performed by actors... something about a barrel... one can safely assume a barrel of something malted? Anyways, we walked through the section that presented what was going on during the war on British soil in people's every day lives away from most of the immediate action. The first few things that held my attention were posters appealing to mainly housewives to recycle nearly everything imaginable- from newspapers to rubber to food to metal. People during that time no doubt did their absolute best to turn everything salvagable into something that would sustain their communities and their loved ones fighting for a cause they believed in. Nothing went to waste. Posters implored people to turn their gardens into vegetable plots so that ships could be used to support the war rather than wasting time, supplies and energy to import food items. Public parks, playing fields and greens were turned into farmland that was cultivated by local people. Other posters cautioned folks against spending unnecessarily, advising that it would actually help Hitler.

There were posters teaching children left behind how to mend clothing, repair leaky taps, and other easy things that we are just too lazy most days to bother with today. We just buy something new or call someone to fix it for us.

Scraps of food that weren't left to rot in a bin. They were turned into food for the pigs that people kept in their back yards for food. People- regular people, not farmers- kept chickens and pigs in their back yards for food.

Being a bit of a craft fanatic I was really taken in by the amount of embroidery and cross stitch that I saw. Most was either patriotic or had a message of social action to it. Art and craft meets activism. And that's something I'm really intrigued by at present- craftivism. It's nothing new! Another element of the embroidery/craft thing that hit me was a display of Christmas cards created by World War I frontliners, items sent back home to loved ones. Cards that were actually embroidered with lovely designs... by men- soldiers! How incredible the way gender notions of craft get turned on their heads when convenience is fleeting and desperate times are with us. I wonder if some day during the present 'economic downturn' if Rob will sew a hankie for me with my initials or something.

Why does it take something like war or catastrophy to make us strip back to the basic necessities? Why do we feel that in times of 'prosperity' we can rape the system and the world around us? Why can't we live under the same premise of providing local produce grown with our own hands to sustain our families and communities? Why can't we patch up a hole in our socks instead of buying a new pair? Sure, we may have the money to afford new items or to splurge on something imported from the third world, but what we all know or should know (we've all got access to the info if we'd care to look and acknowledge it's out there) that there are desperate times everywhere. That country that provided you with that banana is more than likely offering its own citizens with half rotting bananas for their own tables- if they're that lucky. That cocoa in your valentine's chocolate could well have been harvested by a child that should be going to school.

I found my visit to the museum to be mostly boring, a bit sad, but I am inspired by what I saw. People who got the message that things must change. And so they did. Too bad things went back to the same ol', or even worse. I hope and pray that some day I can have a vegetable garden to feed my own family with. And that I can make some kind of a difference in our convenience-laden society that's inconvenient to most of the developing world.

Saturday 7 February 2009

whadda week! mushy peas vs. lettuce wraps.

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I prefer days that are like what's on the dinner menu for tonight: lettuce wraps (featuring rice, soy sauce, sesame seed oil, ginger, chili, garlic, grilled peppers, grilled onions, carrots, and whatever-else-i-find-around-here-to-chuck-in). I like days that are varied, spicy, and fresh. But the last couple days have been a bit like mushy peas. Which I can tolerate and maybe as part of a larger course I can enjoy, but I don't ever prepare them for myself.

Yesterday morning we awoke with the excitement that Bradley Hathaway would soon be with us, having landed at the airport and hopefully somewhere in transit to our friend's house. Knowing how long it takes to get through airport security and immigration and London itself we weren't suprised we hadn't heard anything yet. But then a withheld number called me at about 9:30. It was someone interested in the gig! He wanted to know if there were any other shows going on. He sounded really interested and I thought that perhaps he would like to come along but was busy and looking for an alternate date.

Explaining that we didn't organise the tour, just the one gig, eventually it came out that he was an officer from immigration and he was detaining our performer. Poetically, I'm sure, Bradley told immigration that he was entering the country to visit a friend in Manchester. However, this guy also performs under his name and therefore when googled up popped our gig. This was presumably initiated by scanning his passport which flagged him as being denied entry for the same reason before.

Several phone calls with the agent later, after we'd sent out texts to friends to pray pray pray, we were given the news that in 35 short minutes Bradley would be back on a plane to Americaland. So then began the work of cancelling the show that was only hours away. People were gutted.

All in all the whole day was a downer. We'd hoped that hanging out with friends might have redeemed the day but that was to no avail. We came home and plunked down in the same ol' room and watched a film for the dozenth time. Blah. I couldn't wait to go to sleep and just wake up to a new day.

Today's been a chilled day, not quite as frustrating, although anyone with a decent offer on our printer ink is out of it. That led me to print up worship songs in multi-colours. That'll be fun haha!

Now, listening to Bob Dylan for the last couple hours I'm feeling chilled and optimistic. I've tweaked my myspace page which is now a bright yellow with bumble bees (if only outside was so cheery). Now I've got about 10 websites to peruse on the matter of sex (this will be applied to a sermon @ church... perhaps not what you'd expect however, depending on your expectations, that is).

Tomorrow we look forward to bowling for a friend's 30th, then a few hours of downtime then meeting up at The Rag Factory for The Bridge. Monday looks to be a make-up date for us to get to the Imperial War Museum (a plan that was squelched for last Monday when snow was factored in). Thankfully the coming week is a bit tamer than the last. And hopefully our plans will work themselves out rather than being denied entry.

"Bradley Hathaway: Coming to an Airport Near You!"

Wednesday 4 February 2009

Could London's knife crime epidemic be solved with a simple cuppa?

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What a night filled with adrenaline, burritos, and much tea! As usual on the first Tuesday of each month The Bridge goes out to serve the homeless and poor of London a bit of love n food, which was the occurrence last night. On the menu was bean, rice, cheese, peppers & onions, and chicken-for-the-carnivores BURRITOS! We were skilled with the production and rolling of these puppies, all 9 of us! We got a bit of a later start than usual, but we headed towards our bus stop and hopped the 29 towards Charing Cross, our destination.

Two of the girls settled down chatting with two blokes who turned out to be homeless, the rest of us were standing somewhere near the second set of doors. About 5 minutes into our journey I was speaking to Rob about whatever when I caught the glance of the dude sort of behind Rob. I say the glance... it was more of a menacing stare and I wasn't sure if it was a 'what the BLEEP are you looking at' or 'you're so hot I could pin you down right now' look. Either way I wasn't terribly comfortable with it and paired with my motion woosieness whilst turned around on a bus, I decided it would be best to look forward.

Minutes later we see this dude being slapped in the face by some other guys who were sitting behind him. To me it looked like they'd attacked him for no apparent reason, but perhaps I brushed off his eerie stare too early. The skuttle continued on up the road as two drunk women got involved, one shouting 'She's a lady' or something to that effect. The guy ended up jumping off (or sort of forced off) at the next stop, dragging the women with him. We all rubbernecked as we pulled away to see what was going on at their drop-off point, but I couldn't tell what was happening.

We get probably two stops up, having been held up by lights and traffic when we see this dude run along the side of the bus, pounding at the driver's side door to get in. Thankfully the driver had sense enough not to let him on and nobody bothered to get off. We trucked on up Gower St and the pace of the bus told me that the guy would very easily catch up if he was running. One of the guys involved in the skuttle earlier boasted something to the effect of '... I'll kill him.' We shook our heads thinking, come on guys, this is lame.

Pretty suddenly, the doors of the bus opened and this angry and scorned bloke ran onto the bus, shoved his way past us, and I mean just past us, like right in front of 3 of us is where his entry ended. I couldn't see much because his back was directly in front of my line of sight, but people towards the front of the bus, our group included began making a quick exit. One of our guys next to where I was standing, who was directly in the middle of whatever was going on started being very pushy and clear that we needed to MOVE UP NOW. The two homeless dudes who had been conversing with two of our gals jumped out and shouted to us 'Move forward now girls!' So we promptly scooted our selves up and outta the bus only to find that the guy was in some showdown with the other guys on the bus, knife in hand.

It appeared as if there was some intervention by some other guys in the back of the bus to cause this guy to chill out. The driver would let nobody off the bus at that point, and safe in his little driver's cubbyhole, he drove away presumably to the awaiting police with his make-shift jail cell.

Fortunately we jumped onto a bus that happened to be behind ours, and the guy had been on that bus previously, fidgeting and brandishing his knife. The driver wasn't impressed.

Adrenaline pumping, we all shared our new war story with one another, headed on our way to give our burritos out to those in need. While we feared that it would be a dull night, following a big snow, thinking people wouldn't be out on the streets and hard to find, we encountered a bigger group than ever before. It was amazing and we gave out everything we had and could have used more.

Good times.