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Tuesday, 9 August 2016

Head Space Daily Words...

Apart from the fact it would be extremely hot and that Chris Waddle played for the football club in the early 1990s, I knew very little about Marseille. A French friend had recommended the city as a good family holiday destination, so we booked accommodation on Airbnb and on July 24th away we went. A six and a half hour train journey, direct from Kings Cross to Gare Saint Charles in the centre of Marseille, was followed by a short cab journey to where we were going to be based for the next twelve days, on the Corniche Kennedy.


Our first, exhilarating impression, standing outside the station, looking across the city, with the impressive Notre Dame de La Garde church to our left, was of intense heat, a clear blue sky and the elation of being somewhere new. Our cab driver was a friendly, charming young guy, who talked excitedly about Marseille the city and Olympique de Marseille, the football club, which is always an icebreaker. Taxi drivers represent their cities and this cabbie’s character, with his polite confidence and sense of humour, set the tone.



A city holiday means plenty of exploring and we were situated in the perfect location, right next to the sea and within walking distance of all the major attractions and areas of interest. Besides, with a boulangerie opposite, the daily, morning croissants had to be balanced out by exercise.



With the majority of its dusty houses of white, cream and terracotta, appearing slightly frayed around the edges, Marseille feels well lived in. Whilst the city could possibly do with a facelift here and there, it is defined by centuries of immigration, has a true sense of itself and doesn’t need to paint over the cracks. What you see is what you get. The confident, welcoming and generous spirit of the Marseillais reflects this mentality.



The city is enclosed within a mountain enclave, which kept it isolated from the rest of France for centuries. It is only since 2001 that a tunnel carved through the rock has existed to shorten the train journey to Paris from 10 hours to three and since 2015, Eurostar trains have made the journey to Marseille. In its 2600 years of existence, Marseille has only been an official part of France for the past 600. As the city’s port became a thriving centre for trade, people from countries such as Greece, Italy, Algeria, other North African countries, Spain and Armenia arrived and settled. The diversity of Marseille has evolved and developed over the course of time and it is the most naturally cosmopolitan place I have ever been to. A twelve day holiday only gives you a superficial view but I was extremely impressed by the togetherness of such a diverse population.



Here ends the history lesson!!



From the roof of our accommodation we had a view looking out to sea, on one side towards the modern port of Marseille, where huge ferries bound for Corsica would depart, around to the other where jagged rock formations pointed the way towards Les Calanques. We were treated to an incredible nightly light show, as the sun faded out over distant hills, with a farewell fanfare of vivid pinks, purples and oranges.



A narrow road nearby led to a path, which opened out into a small cove, almost hidden behind the houses, where little boats were neatly tethered up. The slender path of this sanctuary took a sharp right, which opened up the view of the ocean. A great place to sit and pass the time or as I did, have a passionate chat with two young Marseillais guys, with proud Algerian roots, about Aston Villa’s chances of promotion at the first attempt from the Championship. There is serious football fervour and knowledge in Marseille and the love of Olympique de Marseille is enhanced by the fact that Marseille is a one city club. Imagine the undying support Villa or any of the other local teams would have if they were the only club in the Midlands!!



We paid a visit to the Stade Velodrome, which is extremely impressive for a modern stadium, with the stands being very close to the pitch, the intricately designed roof providing unique character and you got the sense from being there, that genuine atmosphere could be generated.



From one of Marseille’s newest structures, to it’s oldest residential area, Le Panier. This is where in days gone by, the poor, the needy, the hopeless and the hookers were left to fend for themselves. A large part of the area was blown up by the Nazis during the second World War but what survives of the narrow streets and its shuttered houses, with washing hanging on lines rigged high above the ground, maintains the ramshackle look and feel of the old town. As well as continuing to be a thriving residential area, artists’ studios, bars and cosy restaurants give the Panier a romantic sense of bohemia.



A modern creative area, living in the here and now rather than its past and one for today’s youth of Marseille, is Le Cours Julien. Steps leading from a main road called Cours Lieutaud, graffiti decorating the walls on either side, lead to Cours Julien, itself a street which runs around the outside of a large, open meeting place. Bars, cafes and shops line the Cours Julien, as other streets entice you away from the central area. On one of these streets, Rue Des Trois Rois, is the wonderful ice cream shop L’Elephant Rose as well as the excellent La Galette record shop, from where I picked up The Friends Of Distinction album, Real Friends, a soul album from 1970 (see HSD Tune.) As with the vast area of Marseille that we discovered, Le Cours Julien district has a slightly dilapidated sense of survival and progression.



It is only when you go over to the new port area that you come across soulless modern food courts, and a large indoor shopping centre. Marseille though has soul in abundance, so these areas can be avoided unless you fancy a spot of Blue Water or Meadowhall by the sea.



As I mentioned, our accommodation was in the ideal location to journey across Marseille and we walked, via Endoume, to the spectacular, if somewhat OTT Notre Dame de La Garde church, which looks over the city and can be seen from almost anywhere in Marseille. The number 83 bus runs from Le Prado, close to Stade Velodrome, to the Vieux Port which was our way of getting to the art museum Le MuCEM, where there was a fascinating Picasso exhibition and a terrific view out to sea through the gaps in the walls of the terrasse, which resembled a camouflage drape hanging over the building.



What impressed me most of all, were the people of Marseille. Around the town and on the beaches there was a wonderfully diverse, cosmopolitan mix of ethnic backgrounds, colours and faith; all living together, hanging out and sharing experiences in what felt a completely natural existence. When your immigration and integration has been evolving over 2600 years, the process of social and religious cohesion works with greater harmony. Obviously, nowhere is perfect and I was only in Marseille for twelve days but I would hazard a guess that when issues do arise, they are sorted out in an amicable and progressive manner.



Our final evening was spent at a terrific restaurant down the road called Chez Jeannot – great food, service and location. The next day we returned to Gare Saint Charles, where the presence of several soldiers carrying machine guns, reminded us of the troubles that France has had to endure in recent times. I would hope that the people of Marseille will stay strong and believe in who they are, should they ever have to face an attack on their spirit, dignity and beliefs.



One day I hope to return to Marseille, to be part of the city again and take in a football match at the Stade Velodrome. Marseille v Aston Villa in the Champions League? Maybe not but you have to dream...












Head Space Daily Image...

Three photos to show off a little bit of Marseille...

This is Plage De La Prophete...


The narrow streets of Le Panier...


And one of the incredible sunsets from the roof of our accomodation...


Head Space Daily Tune...

Here is the opening track from The Friends Of Distinction album which I picked up at Galette Records on Rue des Trois Rois off Cours Julien, in Marseille...

The Friends Of Distinction - Love Me Or Let Me Be Lonely



Friday, 1 July 2016

Head Space Daily Words...


Last Friday morning, a week ago today, it was as if I had woken up on another planet. As soon as I heard the Referendum result, the world turned upside down. Everything looked the same but the atmosphere hung heavy with trepidation. I was now part of a 48% minority and we were leaving the EU. My beliefs and what I stood for and what I believed our country stood for suddenly felt unprotected, vulnerable and wrong. The open, welcoming, forward thinking Great Britain that I was proud to be a part of, was suddenly not so great anymore. The character of the country had been transformed overnight, with the narrow minded, curtain twitching, jingoistic part of England now leading the way. To have lost the Referendum in what could prove to be the biggest political decision of my lifetime, felt unbearable. Instant despair consumed me and made me want to take flight – Scotland, Ireland, France; and then anger took over and I wanted to fight, stand my ground and not let the system take me down. Flight isn’t an option, so I have to fight and make things better. I have lived in London since 1994 and what makes it such a great city, is the mix of people, with nationalities from all over the world living together, side by side, in community. On my little street alone, there are Turkish, Indian, Irish, Ghanaian, Dutch, Australian, Chinese, Spanish, German, Jamaican, black, brown, mixed race and white people. I never properly knew what community was until I lived in London and South East London in particular. Suddenly, the strength of this community is being questioned and the way it will answer will be to grow even stronger.

I grew up in Birmingham, where cosy, white, middle class suburbs, such as the one where I lived, circle the inner city. These safe havens are oblivious to the Asian and West Indian communities who occupy such areas and the lack of opportunity that these communities face. Out of sight, out of mind. The majority of London works so well as a society because we all live together - a united blend of difference. Of course it is not perfect, nowhere is but the understanding and trust which has built up through living together doesn’t exist to the same degree in places such as Birmingham. Suspicion, resentment and ignorance have taken over, due to the separation of different groups within society and the uncertain economic times we have been facing. A multi cultural, international city like Birmingham which has always looked to take part in the world, should have been voting to Remain but instead voted 50.4% to Leave. To my mind this is shameful but not unexpected and plenty of Birmingham Leave voters will have sat down last Friday night to eat their favourite balti dish in their local curry house and not seen the irony. Bristol, Manchester and Liverpool, take a bow. You rejected the lies outright. Leicester, Newcastle and Leeds, you squeaked in by the width of your replica shirts but you should feel no pride. As for Nottingham and Sheffield, well, lets not go there.

My London Borough, Lewisham, voted 69.9% to remain but despite that overwhelming figure, we are now in a minority within the country and the 52% who voted Leave – and it was their choice to do so, for whatever reason - have given the green light for people of different nationalities, religions, or those who are not white, to be abused. The modern day Alf Garnetts, Hyacinth Buckets and Basil Fawltys can now all come into the open like racist zombies, to air their prejudice and believe me, these people will enjoy nothing more than letting you know their views - probably over a cup of tea and a piece of cake - because they are part of the 52 and will feel justified. Racism in any form, however subtle, or violent, is despicable, unacceptable, pure hatred, designed to frighten, demean, bully, spread intolerance and evoke superiority. On results morning, I woke to discover that I had been transported back in time by 40 years, to an era of fear, narrow-minded racism and bigotry. All the work to build many communities had been undone in the blink of an eye.

I can see why certain areas voted Leave, as a lot of people in the country feel disaffected, let down and disenfranchised but this was a referendum on the future of the EU, not a protest vote against the government and I don’t think a lot of people fully understood what they were voting for. Most Leavers seemed to think they were voting for change, for something better but it looks as though, as a result of voting to leave, situations could actually become worse. We are certainly culturally poorer already. Leave had the support of the right wing press and a slogan that stuck. They knew how to express their lies and deceit with two little words – take control which seemed to simultaneously say everything but mean nothing to a large section of society, who fell for it. The Remain campaign was too complacent, not engaged, played on people’s fears and didn’t have a simple message. Something like Stronger Together to portray a united Europe and the great benefits from having close ties with neighbouring countries - peace being one of them - would have helped.  Anyway, it’s done now, so what could have been, is not even worth thinking about.

Last Friday, Londoners appeared ashen faced and beaten, which is not a look that I associate with the people of my city. I had a strange sense of vulnerability, which I am sure other people felt but I am a white, middle class man. How must it have felt to be a Polish cleaning lady – a section of society that has come in for huge resentment - an Italian electrician, a Pakistani construction worker, or a Jamaican teacher, feeling that the majority of people in the country might not even want you here? These people are part of our society and contribute hugely. From the vocal bigots, the message to any foreigner seemed to be go home and that has to stop; 52% doesn’t make it alright, or give a license for abuse.

It makes me sad that the lives of our kids – and their kids – have potentially been irreversibly changed. The freedom to travel, the freedom to work, the freedom to live where you choose, aspects of life that we have taken for granted are presumably going to be severely affected. The loss of that sense of freedom, openness, and the ability for adventure – a world on your doorstep - will hit them hard, as our national identity is redefined to take on the Little England mentality. My eldest son has already asked whether his mates from Spain and Bulgaria will be allowed to stay in the country.

Cameron and Johnson both claimed that nothing will change, which is of course another lie to add to the many lies we have already been told. If we come out on the other side of this mess and nothing has changed, after dividing the country, causing rifts within families and untold grief, the question will surely be, why did we have to go through it all in the first place? The best way I see of moving forward is to embrace what has happened – because we can’t change it - and make it better. We shouldn’t resign ourselves to a ‘life goes on’ position, or behave as if last Friday was a bad dream and I really don’t see how another referendum can be justified or helpful - a result is a result. The politicians who have lied to us cannot be allowed to rest for one second. Johnson may be out of the race for PM, stabbed in the back by the loathsome and deeply untrustworthy Michael Gove but neither of them, along with Farage, can be allowed to rest (signing this petition to bring charges against Farage for racial hatred is a good start http://tinyurl.com/zaexufs). Between them they have destroyed our national identity and created a split that may never fully heal. If Theresa May becomes Prime Minister, we can't let her rest either, until this utter shambles is made better. We have all been treated like fools and taken for a ride. Now we must come together – including Leavers who feel the same way - to make our voices heard, because that’s all we have but our voices when combined can be very powerful indeed.

Head Space Daily Tune...

The Specials have been politically correct for almost forty years now and this tune is a message to all the haters and the racists out there...

The Specials - Doesn't Make It Alright



Wednesday, 22 June 2016

Head Space Daily Words...

The EU referendum is huge. General elections come and go, governments rise and fall but tomorrow is beyond mere politics, it is about defining our culture and who we are. The culture I believe in is of diversity, not turning your back on your neighbours. It is of openness, not isolation. I believe in hope, not fear and in playing a part, not becoming a narrow minded little island. The xenophobia of the Leave campaign has been sickening, at times veering towards racism. We are better than that. Aren’t we? Why put our jobs, workers rights, the economy and the NHS at risk? If we vote leave, it will be like going down with the titanic, singing Land of Hope and Glory, waving those little plastic union flags as we disappear out of sight. I have neither the intelligence nor the knowledge to understand the intricacies and subtleties of the EU but please don’t vote to cut us off. Don’t detach us from the world. If we vote out, there will be no turning back. In my view, we have to vote Remain.

Tuesday, 10 May 2016

Head Space Daily Words...


The sun makes all the difference. As I wrote these words, the sky was blue. Airplanes left their trails. The birds sang. People chattered. Time was drifting more slowly. Life felt less of a struggle.


Generally, I wear my shoes until they begin to fall apart. A new pair of Summer and Winter shoes every couple of years. Last Wednesday, I was off to the Vans shop on Carnaby Street. Tube to Green Park, then left out of the station, on to Piccadilly, opposite the Ritz. Second left onto Dover Street, past the Mayfair galleries, the doorman in top hat outside the Arts Club and a right on to Stafford Street. The Duke Of Albemarle pub stands immediately on the left. Turn another left out of Stafford Street, head over Albemarle Street, past a Paul Smith shop, through the Royal Arcade and out on to Old Bond Street. At Tiffany & Co walk over the zebra crossing and head down Burlington Gardens, passing round the back of the Royal Academy, before the road twists past Savile Row and narrows into Vigo Street, which opens out to meet Regent Street, just above the glorious bend leading down to Piccadilly Circus. Over Regent Street, along Glasshouse Street and into Brewer Street, a walk up Lower John Street, a cut through Golden Square, then Upper James Street meets Beak Street, a final left and you are at Carnaby Street.


This is a well-worn path for me, leading to companies relating to my work, record shops, clothes shops, pubs, cafes and restaurants. Interesting things that make the world go round. I have never once turned right on coming out of Green Park station, let alone gone into Green Park itself. On this particular Wednesday, the sun was shining and I had a little time on my hands. It was the perfect opportunity to sit on the grass, eat my lunch and watch the world go by.


I took my place in the middle of a Green Park lawn, a path on either side of me, a construction worker dozing in the sun, lying in front of me, (see HSD Image) and in the distance, at the bottom of the park I could see an extremely familiar golden statue. ‘I know that statue,’ I thought to myself, before realising it is the statue located in the middle of the roundabout at the bottom of The Mall, in front of Buckingham Palace.


Apparently, it is known as the Victoria Memorial, designed by Sir Thomas Brock and was unveiled in 1911. Seeing that statue was like a final geographical jigsaw piece falling into place. To have lived in London for 22 years and to have not known that Buckingham Palace is a five minute walk from Green Park station is a touch ridiculous but in my defence, Buckingham Palace is not on my list of places to visit and it has never clicked. If Sister Ray Records, Sounds of The Universe, or the Vans shop were situated at Buck House, I would be there. In fact, I can’t remember having ever purposefully gone to Buckingham Palace, so perhaps my lack of geographical insight is not so far fetched after all.


Whenever I have ventured on to The Mall, it has always been coming from Charing Cross Station or walking through Covent Garden, via Trafalgar Square. It just goes to show that you can live in London for a long time and you never stop discovering – even if it is the geographical situation of one of the most famous and well known landmarks in the entire world. One day, I may take the tourist trek from Green Park Station to Westminster, via Green Park, The Mall, Horse Guards Parade and Downing Street. One thing I shall not be doing again is buying a coffee from the St.James’s Park kiosk – it tastes like piss...