Sunday, 2 June 2013

Doing Record Store Day our boozy way


Record Store Day was perhaps the first properly hot day of the year - and was suitably ridiculous as a result. It was a 24 hours in which we drank a lot and didn't do a single bit of record shopping. 

We kicked off proceedings in Soho for the Sounds of the Universe street party. It featured the skills of Floating Points and Thristian from the Boiler Room and allowed us to let our inner nerd out. This proved to be a right riotious sunny vibe and a mint place to spot celebs, in particularly Jarvis Cocker who mooched past with his young son (who looks exactly like him) and his wife (or sister - who knows). We caught some of Steve Mason performing Dry the Rain on Berwick Street and managed to sink a proper skinful before wobbling off on our bikes. 

After narrowly avoiding death on the roads, our next stop was Nando's where we saw a whole set of cops getting their chicken on (why are they always in Nando's?) and I managed to prove just how pished I was by losing my piece of poulet. The slippery, greasy bit of bird shot off the plate and straight onto the floor as soon as my blade touched it. 

After blowing the hair off and noshing the lot, we did one to the sanctity of the Kingsland boozer. Here things began to become unhinged. We witnessed a ferocious dance off between two old gentlemen who were completely out of their fucking minds. They boogied like true gents half their respective ages before we got locked in an hour-long conversation about football. It's indicative of just how daft the game is that we were able to keep up the pretence of being avid fans without or fellow conversationee/victim having any inkling to our ignorance. Phew.

It was then on to more familiar territory by heading down to Concrete for the evening's Bugged Out! session with Oneman and Martelo. These two are perhaps London's finest party starters and provided a suitably energetic display to ensure we danced and drank until the very end. The following Sunday was one full of confusion and random wandering in a desperate bid to sober up and regain brain cells. Standard businesssssss....

Sounds of the Universe street party

The cops discuss chicken

Slippery chicken business

Old dudes dancing

Drop down and get your eagle on old man

Word

BO

Saturday, 1 June 2013

Saaaatchiiiiii


The Saatchi Gallery is in a right swanky part of London town near Sloane Square on the King's Road. It's right swanky let me tell you. But this swanksville vibe contrasted sharply with what was inside and on the walls. We caught a very bleak art exhibition about extreme poverty in Russia. It was unrelentingly depressing with the huge blown up images of cocks with runny growths on the ends being particularly harrowing. To cheer us up, I took a picture of a coy looking bear. Check him out below. Awwwww...

Russian ting

Pearls or pills

A stoic bear

Red cheeseburgers

Oil slick

Tiger spotting in London zoo


Back in April I decided to try and better myself, add an extra string to my bow and possibly another income stream by taking on a travel writing course.

Peter Carty, former travel editor at Time Out, was the man behind the four sessions which he delivered via a wit as dry as the sahara. Check his website and more deets on him.

I chose to write my feature on a recent trip to London's Zoo. You can check it below.

Tiger spotting in London Zoo

London Zoo’s new Tiger Territory gets you closer to the animals than ever before, writes Jim Ottewill. 

‘She won’t bite. Go on. Get a bit closer.’

The tiger eyeballed us with a stare which looked, despite the words of the guide, very much like she wanted to extend that luxurious neck, unclench those jaws and rip a chunk out of us. We ignored the encouraging words, stood stock still and looked in awe at her beautiful fangs. We were close enough to clean them with a brush but this feline jungle queen popped the tension between us before we were able to embark on a new career in animal dentistry. She did an about turn and sloped off into the bushes with a derisory swish of her orange and black tale.

We weren’t on a jungle safari or a wilderness adventure. This is London Zoo’s new Tiger Territory and our guide an enthusiastic young volunteer. It’s a new exhibit which gets you so close to these animals, it’s a wonder you can’t smell their breath.

As any London dweller so painfully knows, size and location can be delicate subjects when it comes to discussing bricks and mortar. And the word ‘view’ does not often apply. But Jae Jae and Melati, the pair of endangered Sumatran tigers who now call this exhibit home, have plenty to boast about if their big cat mates ever call up to discuss the state of property in the UK’s capital. Although not cheap at £3.6m, their territory is an impressive 2,500 square metres with huge amounts of outside space and even a view overlooking Regent’s Park. It points to a future where animals can roam, if not free, in ways they would be more accustomed to in the wild.

While the enclosure is ostensibly built to provide its residents with the kind of mod cons they’d find in the jungle (pool, high vantage points, open skies), it also allows visitors to get close to these creatures but in a way which does not risk life or death. They may look like they have savage designs on your person but there’s (thankfully) a thick piece of enclosure between you and them.

While the Tiger Territory offers an injection of novelty to the London Zoo experience, there are animal-shaped treats to be had right across the zoo - and big does not necessarily mean better. Often the weirder, more eccentric creatures from the 750 different species living here offer just as much fun and entertainment.

Highlights on our recent visit were numerous. The bearded pigs are a curiosity with facial hair more usually seen on hipsters in the trendier quarters of London's east end. We were also hypnotised by watching a sloth eat with its over-long nails and the enthusiasm of the penguins during feeding time makes you want to jump into their pool and bray for fish from a keeper as well.

A visit to the zoo may not be cheap, but you'd have to go far further afield and spend much more to feel this much like David Attenborough. And the new exhibit does much to suggest the future of zoos will not be cages but spacious loft apartments. Just don’t get too close to the inhabitants…


When to go? 

Get there early. The zoo becomes busy especially at the weekends and during school holidays. If you can, try and take a day off work and head there during the week.

How much is it?

£23 for an adult, £17 for a child. Find out more on group deals from the zoo website.

How to get there?

London Zoo is within walking distance of Camden Town and Regent's Park tube stations and a short bus ride from Baker Street station.

Other animal attractions 

Still after an animal fix? Then see the below…

London Aquarium 
London’s Aquarium offers a whole host of underwater delights allowing visitors to get up close to penguins, sharks and more than a thousand other creatures.
http://www.visitsealife.com/London/

Battersea Park Children’s Zoo
Heading south of the river takes you to the Battersea Park Children’s Zoo and it’s menagerie of monkeys, ponies and meerkats. It’s meant for kids but adults can have fun too. http://www.batterseaparkzoo.co.uk/

Greenwich Peninsula Ecology Park
This area of wetland and marsh allows visitors to get close to the numerous birds and frogs which make up its population.
http://www.urbanecology.org.uk/gpep.html


Lost in space

Frog ting

Our bearded brethren

Bearded pigs are nuts

Wee men!

Sloths having a munch innit

Tuesday, 14 May 2013

Wednesday, 8 May 2013

Two clubs, one pair of gloves and a whole lot of numbers

Hitting up two clubs in one evening is an indication of a fairly wonky outlook. Or perhaps just fucking terrible vibes in the first one you attend.

One March Friday saw both scenarios happen upon us and amounted to a lengthy 48 session which left brains and guts both battered and bruised. It just goes to show that bigger don't necessarily mean better when it comes to living it up large on the ever leaky barge.

Our first port of call was XOYO in Shoreditch for Benji B's first Deviation evening in da club. We lasted about ten minutes before fucking off. Too many men. Or kids. And truly terrible sound, possibly caused by too many bodies. What evs. The distorted, sweaty wall of fuzzy flesh drove us to the nearest taxi rank in search of summat resembling 'vibe'.

Our second rave den for the evening was the Question Mark bar up near Stoke Newington. This Residents night had the two men who warm up proceedings for the notorious Numbers party at the helm. So Bobby Cleaver and Goodhand were our hosts and they escorted us through the weighty end of the record bags with large amounts of aplomb.

It made for a much more low key, yet stimulating slice of musical pie. The distinct lack of total toss bags was a massive tick in its favour. Instead of nobhead, there were just a load of folk getting down in a basement to a fineee selection of electronic bigness like this one below...




And this...



The evening turned into night which turned into morning before we turned in. So Saturday was a suitably wobbly affair. Some food was eaten before we inevitably chose to take a plunge head first into a huge lake of lager. But enroute we picked up a pair of gloves. Furry. Radioactive looking gloves. It's like the Honey Monster had rocked up for a half and a stone baked pizza, then forgotten to take his mitts back with him... waaaahhh

Smoking

Pints

Pagan vibes

Under the table





Thursday, 2 May 2013

The wine of life

In the Life of Pi there's a bit where Pi describes water as 'the wine of life'. I'd disagree cos water is water and wine is wine and beer is best. Everyone knows that. If I could drink music, then the below cocktail is what I'd be supping on. This week's juice innit...












Tuesday, 30 April 2013

I'll have a half please mate


Physical feats of endurance aren't something that anyone reading this blog thinks goes on regularly for its author. And to be fair, the only ones that really came to pass were 'no kip' sessions which had us hibernating for a week and avoiding the outside in fear of being recognised. However, of late you'd be (mildy) surprised. We're not talking doing bench presses, lifting weights or throwing shotputs. Or even star jumps which are fucking impossible if coordination isn't your thing.

But I did sign up to do a half marathon earlier on in the year to rather churlihsly prove a point than doing anything nice like raise money for charideee. The whole process was actually (surprisingly) enjoyable apart from the day-before-pre-match nerves. It feels like the day before a very important exam. And one which, frustratingly, you can't binge drink your way through. Anyhoo it got nailed in less than two hours and no one got hurt. The likes of Peter Cragg, Joe Todd and Dan Shone are actual men cos they nailed proper ones. Props to them. And here's some proof I didn't come a cropper...

Wearing the furry yellow gloves

Pain

Proof