The Curious Case of the Missing Story

Every morning one of the first things we do is check the New Zealand media to see what's been happening at home while we were sleeping.  Yesterday morning we woke to the following headline in the New Zealand media, Man Dives Off Tower Bridge In Taxi Protest.

The headline caught my eye for several reasons: drama, danger - that bridge is bloody high, protest and I had just blogged a bit on the Olympic Lanes which were at the centre of the protest.  I see the London cabbies' point about the lanes.  London traffic is bad enough without the Olympics, but with the Games and then the removal of access to entire lanes, driving in London will be a nightmare.  How are paying taxi passengers going to take it when they get charged for sitting in traffic with a wide open lane just next to them?  A £130 fine isn't going to make it worth the cabbie breaking the law to satisfy the angry passenger.  Is it?

Anyway, I thought, well, this is a story to watch through the day.  What a way to draw attention to your cause?  He must have been arrested.  There will be comment on rights and wrongs.  What did the Mayor think?   After all, the bridge was chosen because the Mayor's offices are near by.

I turned the BBC Breakfast progamme on.  Nothing was being reported.  I bought the Guardian and the Telegraph later in the morning and nothing in them either.  Now, the protest happened in the late afternoon the previous day.  There was plenty of time to do the story.  I wondered what was up?  Did the New Zealand media get it wrong?

I turned to Google.  The story was being reported around he world, but not in London or the UK. There were a few UK minor stories about the protest and maybe a couple of blog posts mentioning the jumper at the time it happened.  The only UK based media with a full story was the BBC website, but that was not being broadcast widely, if at all, domestically.

It was all very odd.  I mean this is the land of scandalous reporting of minor details of people's personal lives and the land of reporters who hacked the phone of a murdered teenager for a story, but a man jumps off a bridge in protest and nothing - zilch, nada.

I get that you don't want to encourage the let's-try-this-at-home brigade by showing it over and over.  The guy was damn lucky to have survived.  Clearly, the tide was high, he pick the right place and he was very lucky on his timing.  But why NO reporting?  The rest of the world thought it newsworthy. Was it because he lived?  Or, is there some law, code or agreement that stops the media from reporting such matters?  And, if there is, what other stories have the British media agreed not to tell us?

Just In Time - It's Summer!

Olympics Count Down in Trafalgar Square

The Great British Summer all the advertising has been talking about has finally arrived.

Well, I guess we can't be sure it's 'great' yet, but it's started.  It was sort of here yesterday, but today there is no doubt.  It's Summer beautiful - not a cloud in the sky and warm, very warm.  And, it's supposed to last until Friday!

Yeah, I know, that doesn't seem to be anything to get excited about, but hey, this is the longest hot dry spell we've had since late May.   June was the wettest on record and July was heading that way until today.

To celebrate arrival of The Great British Summer, I went on a long walk through town after my torture session at the gym this morning - yep back to a trainer and it's Mr Way Fit.  I wanted to pick up our Eurostar tickets for Paris next month.  So, it was off to St Pancras International Station and then a walk back home before my legs ceased up.  Mr Way Fit IS definitely trying to kill me.  For three days after the first session last week, standing up hurt, sitting down hurt, walking hurt, breathing hurt, basically if I moved it hurt!

Anyway, the walk in the sunshine was quite enjoyable.  I notice quite the buzz developing around town with the London 2012 Olympics only four days way.   There were people everywhere and most weren't speaking with British accents or even speaking English for that matter.  Cops were everywhere and they were being put to good use.  I literally saw four instances of cops holding maps that had been handed to them by tourists and London's finest were pointing out the way to this or that in baby English.  These weren't the cops carrying the rifles or machine guns or what ever those big guns are that you see wandering the streets these days.  Those cops were not surprisingly being given a wide berth.

Terror On The Tube

It happened at Acton Town.   I was on a Piccadilly Line train on my way to Heathrow to meet a friend who was arriving early evening on Friday.  I'd left town early to avoid the rush hour crowds, because as I have mentioned before I hate crowds.  My strategy proved successful.  I was in a carriage with only fifteen or twenty people on board.

The train came to a stop in the station.  A couple of passengers got off.  And, then he boarded.  I think it was something about the way he looked around, eyeing up a number of seats before choosing one.  What ever it was, my fellow passengers' faces showed that they were nervous.  You could tell they were hoping he wouldn't sit next to them.  I knew I didn't want him next to me.

He chose a seat opposite me and next to the only woman in that half of the carriage.  The doors closed  and the looks on everyone's faces transformed.  They weren't nervous anymore.  Terror now filled the train.

The man opened up...

The British Can Be So Polite

Rob and I went to a fundraising event at the National Portrait Gallery yesterday evening.  It's a wonderful gallery and the Jubilee exhibition using paintings and other images to trace the Queen's 50 years on the throne is fab.  The fact that we were viewing it all with champagne in hand didn't hurt either.

While the drinks were fun, the canapes weren't enough.  We decided to go to dinner.  Rob had been to a nearby pub that he thought was good.  He said it was a bit pricey, but why not?  So, off we went.  It was almost nine and the Angel & Crown was packed in the main pub room.  We decided to go upstairs to the dining rooms rather than fight the crowd.

We climbed the narrow stairs and looked into the first dining room.  It was empty except for a devout Jew doing his prayers.  Well, I assume he was devout.  I mean, after all, he was standing in an empty pub dining room at 9 pm on a Wednesday evening praying.

To Bike Or Not To Bike

Barclay Bikes for Hire

Everyone needs a bike.  They're a fantastic way to get around London.  At least that's what I've been told - fast, easy, avoid traffic jams, good exercise and environmentally friendly.  You'd be crazy not to have a bike.  And, loads of people do.

Rob's got one and he's keen to hit the road now that it has finally arrived from New Zealand.  The grand plan was that I was going to buy a bike and join him, but now I'm not so sure.

The Barclays Cycle Hire system in central London seemed to offer an ideal way to give biking a go.  And, every time we pass the numerous Barclays Cycle locations, I swear that the next time I see one, I'm going to try it out.  We've been here three months now and we've passed them a gazillion times.  And, the next time I see one...  

Basically, I think I value my life too much.  I just don't see how big red buses can safely share the same, often narrow, roads with people on bikes.   Sure, I have been on buses where the driver has slowed to a pedal when a woman on a bike's share of the road is just enough to make passing iffy.  And, I've seen a man on a bike, who pulled up between the curb and the back quarter of a bus stopped at a traffic light, signal the concerned driver that it was OK to proceed without knocking him off.  That kind of courtesy is reassuring, but still it can't be that way all the time.

Stripped London Bike: One Lock Just Isn't Enough

Then there are the bike thieves.  I'm beginning to think that if you want to be a victim of crime in London, your best bet is to buy a bike.

There's this guy who works across the road who each morning goes through a ritual of locking his bike to a pole.  First he chains the front wheel and frame to the pole.  Then he locks the back wheel to the frame. Next he wraps another chain around the handlebars and locks it tightly to the frame.  Finally, he pops the seat off and takes it with him.

At first, I thought it was overkill, but then I started to notice bikes with missing bits as we walked around town.  Occasionally, you come across one that is so badly stripped that it is abandoned leading to the local authorities tagging it for removal.  And, they do remove them in just 48 hours.

Add in the stories Londoners tell us about walking back to their bike to find it in the process of being stripped - naturally confrontation follows.  And, the friends who come to visit and ask to bring their bikes inside, because London streets are no place to leave a bike.

Then there's the rain.  We've had the wettest April and June on record and umbrella's don't work all that well on bikes.  Do they?

I don't mean to sound like I'm making excuses - no really.  I haven't totally given up on the idea of pedaling around London, but for now I think I'll stick to walking.  Rob will be disappointed.