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  • beulah888 6:24 AM on April 22, 2014 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: Dalston, environs, , , , Moving Home, , Photography, , Thoughts,   

    AT Home 

     

    Dalston

    Hackney

    Queensbridge Road

    Regents Canal

    London Fields……………….

    These areas surround me, making up not my ‘home’, but my Home’s environs.    Not my ‘walls’ by my Walls’ environs

     

    000_1056  000_1058 000_1076

     

    000_1057000_1063

     

    Dalston Kingsland

    to

    Stamford Hill

    Shoreditch

    Old Street

    Mare Street

    Hackney Road

    000_1075

    000_1014000_1034

     

    000_1047

    Hackney Central

    Cambridge Heath Road

    to

    Bethnal Green……..

     

    000_1038 000_1046000_1036

    No matter where

     

    They are not my environment, the thing which makes me whole;

    Not my estate – my place of being

    Nor that which sustains me

    But rather

    My inner self

    My family

    Those and that which is dear to me

    That which

    if I pluck up

    and take with me

    wherever I go…

    I will still be

    At Home.

    000_1012

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  • beulah888 8:26 AM on August 1, 2013 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: Bean Sprouts, Condiment, Dalston, , , intimate encounter, Juno, , , meal, restaurant, Sauce, Shoreditch   

    What’s In A Meal? 

     Bean Sprouts, Vermicelli, other stuff all on bed of lettuce and sauteeing in a sauce of sauces that taste of ginger, soy, and other stuff that tastes so overwhelmingly good you must get a couple wedges of the freshly baked, light, fluffy but crisp garlic enriched bread to soak up and…..I am happy.  I am in heaven for a moment.  I am better satisfied than, OK, at least as, an intimate encounter with a fine member of the homo sapiens species. I am at peace.  I crave nothing more than a fine wine (half a glass); a smelly cigar and a bit of further relaxation.  I am replete.

    In a meal at Juno’s on Shoreditch High Street I encountered quality class expertise love knowledge simplicity joy pleasure.

    Not quite Vietnamese.  Not quite Burmese.  Just ‘ease’.

    This was a beautiful inspiring uplifting work of art by a lowly young chef that allowed me to kiss him (on the cheek of course) for him having made me so happy.   A hot stifling day blown away by perfection.

    Well, well, well.

    Hackney is still shite but the smell is fading in the aroma of the sauce that awakens desire and the substance of the ingredients that make the meal real.

    And Shoreditch isn’t really Hackney, is it?  It certainly isn’t Dalston!

    Time to be grumpy later.  Maybe.  I am still luxuriating in the flavours of Juno’s Chef’s £6 delight.

    Perhaps it was the Sun, but for once I was in no rush to get home to my hermetically sealed place of detoxification.   In fact, I had to stop off at this dying library to blog about the meal.   It was some meal!!

    What’s in a meal?  The power to shift your soul.

     Juno is at 134-135 Shoreditch High Street, E1 6JE.   Tell ‘im the lady that likes peppers said hello. (snigger snigger)

     
  • beulah888 4:09 AM on July 26, 2013 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , Dalston, , George Galloway, , Kate Moss, King George VI, King GeorgeV, Prince George   

    Baby Name Shambles: Prince George Is Public! 

    That ‘royal’ baby name is a shambles!  He isn’t Greek, Egyptian or French. He might be Quebecois, perhaps? No really.  He is just a george of the madness of King George sort.  Well isn’t he?

    They're all mad I tell you.

    They’re all mad I tell you.

    He is of Cambridge shire is George

    ( there is not a Windsor)

    and his auntie Pipster,

    was delivering him,

    almost,

    and there checking him out at home

    before the supposed real royalty.

    And they named their baby

    After a public Inn!

    Ooo a shambles!  How gross, how common, how undignified!!

    They were so quick to name him too!  Oh the immodesty, the utter shambles!  He is no Mountbatten and neither are his parents.  They have taken popular to mean common.  Well, o.k. as they probably equate populace with commoners.  I mean, showing your baby bump?  What’s next?  A Kate Moss shoot?  A note that they have the original placenta in the vaults of some crypt or museum. Ugh-gh-ha!

    And as a couple punters have pointed out GAL is not monarchical.  Reminds me of a certain George Galloway or Galworthy.

    He is a gorge, ah,  George!  poor thing (disregard the Bank of England) and will never be an Alexander or a Louis.  Bugger Bognor and Saxe-Coburg-Gothaand all that.

    Hackney has its own Prince George already, thank you very much!  Actually, Hackney has a few Princes George and otherwise, as well as a smattering of Queens (drag n all) Dukes and so on.  .  One is on Parkholme Way, well it was last time I checked but being aged and grumpy and penniless I haven’t sought out the old bugger in eons.

    ad

    Speaking of which, last I remember, the Prince had a small back room where you could pot balls.  And “Harry will make sure he has fun”.  Oh the fine times!

    Anyone for a game of pool?

     
  • beulah888 5:59 AM on February 2, 2013 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: Anniversary, Bithday, Bliss, C. L. R. James, Cafe, Dalston, , , Happiness, Hysteria Bar,   

    Bliss vs Happiness 

    Bliss

    Bliss (Photo credit: Asiacamera)

    So now it’s a new year, a new month and I am re-newed.  On 1st Feb I had my ‘official’ birthday anniversary.  Oh joy!  Could have been better if I’d been anywhere but Hackney.  Brighton or Bath or Venezuela perhaps.

    I am older but moving toward younger….

    Today I am in the great Dalston Library (CLR James Library) where not one but two Library Techs/Librarians have been as usual tolerant and sweet to me.  One even showed me how to use the scannner.

    How did this come about?  Short story.  I started the year having fun at Hysteria Bar…I am reverting to young remember..got talking as I would, with some guy and next thing I am working on this Open Mic & Theatre night.  Well why not?  Keeps me from griping about bloody Hackney for a couple of hours at least!

    This Frendzy Open Mic thing has also got me going out more, Jesus!  No home computer so trying to beg time at cafes as well.  And here my friends, is where “Bliss vs Happiness” comes in.

    Happiness

    Happiness (Photo credit: Rickydavid)

    While waiting to get on the computer that has the scanner (only one for g-d’s sake! C’mon CLR get with it!) I decided to go get me a cuppa and a nibble.  NOT in the cafe downstairs but across the street at Bliss Cafe.  Droll place with foreigners running it but still bleak enough to be traditionally English.  Oh well, that’s me on a roll.  Yup, I had a bacon roll-£1.40- and a cup of tea. Bliss!

    While crossing the street to this cafe on the almost corner of Dalston Lane, I met a couple blokes with carrier bags full of sandwiches and what’s not.  Had a lovely lively conversational provocation waiting for the lights to change.  Lights didn’t change but traffic backed up so we jay walked across and our paths diverted.  Bliss!

    Opened the cafe door and stubbed my toe..no watch your step sign for the irregulars and unwary like me. Huh!  Then, joy o joy this  young guy in spiffing new expensive glasses wants me in his photo.  How can I resist?  I do.  No freebies from me today, Tom, (his name is/was Tom).  I get a cuppa off him, Bliss, and he get’s his photo.  I am not cheap but poor lad didn’t want to stretch to the baked potato. Umm. Well, he was doing his photography thing on his smart phone.  Smart phone. Umm.  I got his email address though…happiness!!  For an over and going down the hill IC4 female that is like, uh huh!  He is some 5’11” young blue-eyed great lips wonderful smile young lad (IC1 male) with a smart phone that may take him to fame and I—–have—–his—–email—address. Uh huh HUH!

    I am IC4 female, by the way, because I am icy for females.  Don’t get me wrong, I have friends who like the same sex but me,  I like my ozone to mix with that testhothsorone thing–even if I can’t spell it.

    Back to Bliss vs Happiness.  Bliss and Happiness are not the same.  One is sublime and one is run of the mill.

    I encountered Happiness on the way to the cafe.  I  experienced Bliss when I got there.   Two lovely men of about my age chit-chatted with me about snacks and went their way.  One handsome young man was polite, kind, generous, and gave me his email address!  What more could I ask for on a day like today when I contemplate the frendzy of my life.

    There is still some humanity out there.

    Even in Hackney.

    Have a good one!

     

     
  • beulah888 4:55 AM on December 7, 2012 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: Dalston, , ,   

    Click, And Buy It. For Pet’s Sake! | As Easy As A Click 

    Click, And Buy It. For Pet’s Sake! | As Easy As A Click

    via Click, And Buy It. For Pet’s Sake! | As Easy As A Click.

     

    Well well well.  We all have to look after our pets.  The scraggly dogs of Dalston need to be ‘put to sleep’ while the pets in our homes that take so little from us and give us so much affection should be pampered and loved.  No, this time I am not referring to humans or the dead, but the decaying sights we see around Dalston Lane.  I fix my eyes on the beautiful and aesthetic, but the scraggly dogs of the unkempt buildings (o.k. and some people) try to get in my way.  And yes, there are a few rejected animals that even Battersea can do nothing for and which should be referred to the RSPCA for removal.

     

    So. Love your pets.  Take care of them and take them for their constitutional regularly.  Most of all keep them away from the garbage bins by feeding them before that walk.  Pet peeves?  I have so many that the only pets I have are fish and a bird. Ah, the bird is still in the Pet Shop. I haven’t raised enough to buy it yet.

     
  • beulah888 1:40 AM on November 6, 2012 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: Dalston, , , , Mummy, Peru   

    Speaking of the Dead 

    The dead cannot speak, in fact the dead know nothing.  I mean, the dead is dead, right?  By definition therefore the ‘dead’ have nothing to offer. OK. Well, maybe maggots and beetles and such like, that Forensic  Techs. and Morticians or Medical Examiners and Students love to play with.  Oh and some children too.  I knew of a couple of kids who liked to poke and fry and dismember dead critters.  Maybe it was their parents drove them to it.

    Anyway.

     Basically the dead are a thing of the past and should remain dead.

    Yet we have people who have no life, i.e. dead people that don’t know they are dead, rehashing and digging up and otherwise exhuming and examining and discussing and talking about and referring to and calling on ….dear god….the dead!

    What is it all about?  Why can’t the dead of all types just go rest in peace and leave the living, i.e. those who have life, to get on with the business of living?

    I totally hate all dead.  Ok, mummies from the mountains of  “Peruvia” are welcomed.  I am not being hypocritical here.  These mummies have something to offer, like historical and cultural interesting and important stuff.  I would prefer people did not desecrate their ‘abode’ but I, yes, hypocritically here now, still enjoy reading about such.  Oh, how complex a human can be.

    Getting back to the dead.  Dead places, dead spaces, dead people, dead dogs, dead cats, just plain dead lifeless non-breathing Exes.  Stay dead, will you!

    You dead carcasses know nothing about what it is to be alive.  You are worse than robots or even puppets.  You cannot be programmed or manoeuvred into any kind of useful or entertaining purpose.  Your are, pure and simple, dead.  You cannot come to Life or bring life.

    That, my friends,  is why those zombies who have no life are constantly referring to and speaking of the dead.  For goodness sake, they talk with the dead (their own kind and themselves) and about the dead, because they have no place in life.  They would love to.  They would love to be alive.  But they are not and can never be.  And this really pisses them off.  Nothing so much infuriates those zombie pretenders to life as to see or hear real people enjoying and experiencing life.  It is beyond envy.  It is a form of vicious loathing that speaks ill of the dead.

    Put them in their graves I say.

    Their stinking putrified tombs which they call houses or flats are stuffed with the detritus of a life never lived.  Their ‘abode’ unlike that of the beautiful mummies of the Andies, is hell hole of would have been, could have been, wish I had, wish I did/not, if only and…good god…death.  Their ornaments, trinkets, furniture and fixtures, utensils and even their food are permeated with their death breath.  They are worse and worse off than the dead who are now deceased but had life when they were alive.  This is what makes them so bitter—-with life and the living. They are aware that they never had and will never have life, and instead of accepting this fact (and ffing off the face of the Earth) they wish to hang around longing and hoping for what can never be.  How sad is that?

    So, speaking of the dead, I say:  I will not speak of you.  I will not talk to you.  I will not entertain you.  I will not acknowledge you, because you are not.  I will not reference you in my life or its environs. I certainly will not worship or affirm you.  I will not raise you to Life, because I cannot.  I will not hear you, because I hear only those with life and something of value.  I will not feel sorry for you and cannot empathise or have sympathy for you.  I will, however, commit you to your graves.   RIP.

    And as for Dalston Lane and Hackney.  Only time will tell.

     
  • beulah888 2:14 AM on September 26, 2012 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: Dalston,   

    Dalston Lane 

    Dalston Lane is a stone’s throw from where I live.  It has taken on a few changes over the years, but is still somewhat a dead area of Hackney.  A part of it houses the new library building and new flats, and the London underground serves it well.  It is still an unarresting place however, with the major activity coming from people waiting for buses-and these can be many- and a few newer and much older businesses.

    It is not a place I particularly appreciate and neither is Dalston Kingsland Road where all the buzz and activity really resides. 

    However, I have had to put up with it for these past years and frankly I am beyond tired of the place.

    T be continued?..  I hope not.

     
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