Leonora Slowgrove - where are you now?

JoB Mansions, Camden, London
My current digs are with my old friend Jo at JoB Mansions in Camden. It's a long story why, after returning from my travels, I didn't move back into my flat, The Borough Bunker, and for once I shan't rattle it out.

Anyway, I was drying down after having a shower this morning, having availed myself of a fresh towel from the airing cupboard, and I noticed it had a name tag. Equally (or more) odd was that it was the name of some lass I've never heard of: Leonora Slowgrove. This throws up a few questions:

1. Why has Jo got a name tagged towel when nearly 20 years has passed since 3C's swimming lesson, or 4C's gymnastics class?

2. Even ignoring that issue, why is it not her name on the tag? Did the towel end up in her kit bag by accident all those years ago and has languished in the airing cupboard unused 'til now? Or is it more sinister? Does Jo creep around school sports halls pinching unsuspecting victim's towels? Or does she invite people to stay in her house and then whack 'em, bury them in the garden and revel in stealing their linen?

3. Did she victimise Leonora at school, bully her and steal her towel, and now I'm unwittingly swabbing myself down with a towel belonging to some poor lass that is watching E4 nightly wondering why this world is so against her?

I've known Jo for 20 years or more, definitely more when you consider we were born in the same hospital in Norwich, two weeks apart in 1970. But do I really know her? Is she actually some crazed towel thief, stopping at nothing until she has a brushed cotton memento of all the people she has ever known?

A Google search for Leonora Slowgrove throws up NO hits. Jo is a sharp, shrewed and cool operator. I'd expect nothing less. Gone without a trace.

I tell you what, I'm going to be keeping a weather out for any irratic behaviour and I shall be guarding my brushed cotton pyjamas with my life from now on for fear of having a random name stitched into the seat and bodily ending up buried beneath the patio.



Jo's due back from Russia tommorow. If you never hear from me again...call the police!

Hovis, a boy on a bike, cobbled streets...ahhh the memories

Central London
Ever wondered what it'd be like if you closed central London to cars and let the bikes take over? Well, it'd be a bit like it is with cars really - congested. Only it'd be congested with bikes. Funny that.

Actually that's a scewed view of today's Hovis Freewheel event - a bike focused day in central London. It just got a little congested around the hub in St James' although one cyclist's comment from the above video mustn't fall into the hands of any black cab or motorist lobby group as it would nullify any ground we pedal pushers have gained in the turf war of transport in London.

The below was more indicative of what it was like. In fact the underpass beneath Blackfriars Bridge was a riot of hollers, shouts, whoops, bell rings and horn honks. A better sound than the revving of stationary exhaust clogged traffic, you can't help but agree.

Above: doing something I shouldn't - film & cycle. Not because it's Whitehall and I could have been busted for doing recon for a subversive militant cycle organisation with a view to aggresive direct action. It's just the last time I tried to do anything but concentrate on cycling when on my bike, I fell off and sprained my ankle. Doh!

Adam, Pat, Cosima (sleeping) & Milo getting into the spirit.

I really hope whoever owned this bike rack had lost their lock key and had to divorce the rack from their bike and they hadn't (as I suspect) had their bike pinched for the sake of some short sighted bike security.

Shirt or Squirt: a kind of scaled down, bike-centric It's A Knock Out but without Arthur Ellis.

[By the way, did you know that (Sir) Ridley Scott directed the original 'New World Symphony' Hovis ad back in 1973? No? Well you do now. Never let it be said that Spratticus isn't educational as well as primarily pointless.]