"The empire strikes back" is my assessment of the social phenomenon detailed here. It has little to do with spending cuts in the interests of public solvency/ long term socio-economic prosperity and more in keeping with eroding the post war reforms to education, opportunity and health. Cooperative communities are in my view cohesive to meritocratic, upward social mobility and more egalitarian social frameworks.
However, I'm pleased to report from a micro climate some small businesses are presently flourishing but this serves to illustrate how economically interlinked we all are. Remove money from the economy and reduced consumer spending, whether derived from earned income or benefits will see large sections collapse like the proverbial house of cards with costly social consequence. Increasing, rather than slashing benefits might not be ideologically sound for some but in the short term at least, would support a fragile economy and prevent those most likely to be reliant upon state assistance losing their employment. These people have cars, consumer durables and other items. Should they choose not to have their cars serviced, their hair cut or indeed that Friday night takeaway, our local economies shrink.
"Gentrification" of inner city areas including Hackney, Waltham Forest amongst others during the mid 1980s under the premise that such sweeteners would bring the middle classes and by default,prosperity/investment had little positive impact upon the immediate, established communities. The affluent newcomers enjoyed relatively cheap housing, convenient commuting to city jobs/restaurants and other amenities while the skilled artisans and businesses retired or relocated. It is difficult to predict whether we will see social unrest of the sort last witnessed during this period or whether people will seek solace in cheap liquor and sit huddled in their homes akin to the passover.
"People getting angry" is an immortal line from the Specials' seminal track " Ghost Town" arguably defining the immediate era of post 1970s Britain. "Tell me why?"; Is another extremely poignant song penned and composed in response to a brutal racist attack that rendered Lynval Golding hospitalised after he left a South London nightclub accompanied by two white women. In recent weeks I have been threatened twice while driving through Leytonstone by a black man in his mid twenties driving a very distinctive Q plate VW based kit car. Is this deep seated racial prejudice, simple unprovoked, pick- a- fight thuggery or a case of mistaken identity on his part?
Racism is widely regarded as a singularly white, male phenomenon, most prevalent amongst those from the lower economic sub-strata when it is inherently more complex. For several decades, young men of black and Asian origin have been subjected to inequalities of legal representation and disproportionately harsh sentencing compared with white counterparts committing (or at least "guilty")of the same offences. Drawing parallels with third wave feminism's inability to successfully challenge and obliterate reductionist two-dimensional gender stereotypes, there is a disturbing hypocrisy amongst some who use colonialism and slavery as justification for their own deep seated prejudices.
He's just a stereotype, he drinks his age in pints, he has girls every night and he doesn't really exist... Ignorance, prejudice and hatred serve to profit those who gain advantage from dividing and fragmenting people. Equal opportunities hiaraches are developed by careerists who control thought and the use of language in terms that are positively Orwellian while failing to have any positive effect upon the day to day experiences of the surgeon who is systematically undermined/ humiliated in a professional capacity by her colleagues, or the hirsute young man stopped and searched in the street because he fits a very simplistic "terrorist" profile. Sat in a Polish cafe' one afternoon, one such bureaucrat blundered through the door demanding to see documentation.
I squirmed in my seat (nursing a large coffee and awaiting my meal) as he conducted himself in the most patronising manner imaginable with a woman whose command of English rivaled, if not exceeded his own. The moment of reckoning came when he asked to see "The licence for the stripper"... Her polite tolerance vanished, cake and coffee retracted, replaced with a stern retort. Needless to say, he left looking very sheepish and muttered something about returning in a couple of weeks.
One of my favourite myths is that of the "repressed" Indian woman but no-one notices as the strong, independent but deeply feminine figure slips from a sari into leathers and across town on a 750cc Suzuki leaving everyone else "ten paces behind". 
"Uncle" Benny, director of Sowman plumbing & Heating LTD has busied himself with some renovation works to his MG Metro turbo. Faded wings are being resprayed, presenting the opportunity for some mild engine fettling/tidying. Next to go is the dubious dump valve. Installed by the previous owner, welding is workman like at best-although the jury's out as to whether it's sloppy TIG or just mediocre MIG. Benny's vision is to employ the services of a skilled machine shop and have them cut out the offending area, neatly welding a plate in its place.
Fifty four thousand, one hundred miles was as close to the ten thousand service interval as I wanted to get, particularly since the condition of drum and disc brakes needed establishing. Received wisdom and past experience suggests pad replacements every nineteen thousand miles, more in urban contexts or the discs will be tantamount to scrap. Interestingly, braking was given the all clear but the two front tyres were down to the legal limit and frankly, my trade seems to attract sufficient police introspection without giving them additional/just cause for reprimand. That aside it was simply routine plugs, filters oil and a replacement bulb. Total bill £255 including VAT.
Autumn has become progressively drier, albeit cooler but hasn't presented opportune moment for further chassis waxoyling. However, I took the precautionary measure of shooting some WD40 into locking mechanisms, touched up a few stone chips before treating the coachwork to a thorough hard paste polishing seeing as the Ka finish needs a little help and pigeons have been taking rather accurate, acidic aim at the panels. The driver's side mat is looking increasingly threadbare too so I'll replace that come the next available opportunity. 
Work's been slow these past few weeks-allows me to concentrate on some other pressing matters. Cash flow has certainly taken a dive but in these straitened times, creative types have to get creative... Is this a crisis or the opportunity for greater collectivism? I'm not referring to the cynical rhetoric espoused by the political elite but a greater sense in which people form workers cooperatives and other, similarly empowering collaborations. The potential has never been greater but the question remains whether people will actively embrace this or will online activity remain deeply routed in rudimentary one dimensional pornography and consumerism...
Ending on a happier note, Florence has been seen driven locally- We'd had some adventures and very happy times together-maybe our paths will cross again.

Fossil fuels are undoubtedly a finite resource but the greed of oil companies and their shareholders irks me somewhat. Bath is a city in the West Country and a very beautiful one busy but without the frenetic feel of say London and Birmingham. The purpose of this visit was business-an editorial meeting followed by some after hours’ fun and a very steady drive back the following afternoon. On so many levels it was good to escape, meet with much respected contributors and to let one’s metaphorical hair down- I was mildly amused to discover another publishing house had been spending considerable quantities on Maserati and cocaine!
Back with a bump, I found myself in the surreal position of photographing men frequenting a brothel from an external staircase of a solicitor’s in the not so salubrious seaside town of Southend.
In keeping with many old resorts, there are some very affluent areas but an increasing migration of people displaced from various parts of the country sees many of the once grandiose hotels and guest houses converted into flats, bed-sits etc housing individuals and families often unwanted by the London boroughs.
By the same token, I’ll confess to a love of decay-at least from a photographic standpoint. Salt air’s not good for coachwork and our old friends Joe and Joanna rot had been busily breeding around Kushi’s sills again. The warmer weather and lighter evenings have presented opportunity for further purging- sanded back to bare metal, followed by several coats of rust-busting primer and finally, light applications of Neptune green top-coats as time and climate allow. 

A few days later and once again Kushi and I were headed 165 miles up to Birmingham to see Melody Gardot, get a few shots of some abandoned buildings and even a quick saunter around Spark hill and a butcher’s at the Bull-ring and of course the bubble wrap building exterior it’s sections notoriously removed by drunken revellers wanting a souvenir. Melody, (including her comparatively dignified wardrobe malfunction) certainly captured my imagination as she wowed, teased and engaged the audience in equal measure with a warm, if ever-so- slightly brash New York charm. Birmingham has a notoriously complex road network so I left Kushi in the outskirts, making a trip to the city centre and staying in a concept hotel-not this abandoned car park opposite (although those close to me will doubtless understand its significance and moreover appeal).
44, 800 miles chimed time for servicing. Received wisdom suggests 10,000 (or once yearly) but by this point, the engine oil will have literally lost any protective qualities. Ironically, entering the garage yard, one that drew fascination and enchantment as a young boy, I spotted Florence sitting quietly in the exact same spot as I left it on that fateful January morning.
It had obviously moved at some point and I’m reasoning cannibalised for spares. Nonetheless, seeing it again conjured some very fond memories and strong sentiments but then, this speaks volumes about my psyche. Sure I can make very prudent, dare I say; rational business decisions but I am not a businessman as cut from the traditional cloth.
So to its successor’s servicing. This was a very straightforward plugs, filters, fluids affair with a lick of grease, tweaked handbrake cable and replacement driver’s side wiper blade £138 including VAT. (Thanks go to the good folk at Palmers for their skill and moreover, constructive approach to repairs and servicing). There have been some very surreal moments in amongst our mile munching meanders too. Drawing up at the lane leading to my son’s primary school, I hadn’t so much as engaged the handbrake when two of the middle class mothers of moral majority began tittering amongst themselves-in truth they shot a look more commonly associated with the 1978 remake of “Invasion of the Body snatchers” with Messer’s Nimoy, Sutherland et al.
Had it been a wet passenger footwell, I could’ve blamed a blocked pollen filter, possibly a faulty door seal or something less daunting. However, given diagnosis pushes repair bills skyward, I set about dismissing the most obvious. Simple tests ruled out a faulty windscreen seal, heating matrix and at least water wasn’t entering through the dash and ruinously contaminating the electrics.
A business like but friendly email to the dealer withholding my true fears induced a very positive telephone conversation-he was happy for the coach works to investigate-even through as I suspected, seals in the strictest sense weren’t covered. Rescheduling some business appointments, I left Kushi complete with my business card on Monday morning, the sales manager reassured me he’d call just as soon as he knew, adding they’d need a couple of days to be really thorough. With that I handed over the keys, rescued my camera equipment and arranged for someone to collect me. Close of business on the Tuesday confirmed defective sealing around the bulkhead-which the coach works had resolved- free of charge as a gesture of goodwill.
Cynically one might suggest this was the dealer knowing their statutory obligations but wanting to be seen as doing the consumer a favour. Maybe so but then knee jerk cynicism is the lazy option chosen by those seeking simplicity in a world full of complexity and contradiction. Educated in the school of the streets when it comes to cars and having met everyone from dealers posing as private sellers and dubious breakers’ yards through to genuine old school craft trained coach builders, I retain a healthy sense of cynicism, gut instinct and won’t enter into business with those I do not trust-for whatever reason. My thanks go to Fred Heale at D&G cars for his customer focus and for genuinely fair business practice.
Other than a fiddly driver’s side bulb replacement and a quick drop of oil, we celebrated 40,000 and the first taste of March sunshine with a thorough Waxoyling of the chassis. Pump action pressure spray long since expired I left the drum marinating in a bucket of boiling before pouring the molten fluid into a separate container and applying with a brush. Petrochemicals are never pleasant to work with and two hours later I emerged light headed but reassured corrosion wouldn’t be an issue. 
The resourceful (and dare I say tight) will be pleased to know a comparable mixture can be brewed at home using very simple ingredients commonly available from most hardware stores.
Reassuringly in an age of engine management systems demanding extensive, not to mention expensive diagnostic software, the Ka is electro-mechanically simple (especially the Endura and more refined Duratec eight valve engines). The old Endura push rod design while tappety and in some earlier models, prone to premature camshaft demise is a particularly simple beast with impressive amounts of torque. Very early models were pretty basic-even to the exclusion of power steering-although this is standard from the Ka2 onward. Quicker on the uptake-especially around town, the older engine will whiz very cheerfully up to the legal limit and even manages a genuine 96mph but feels noticeably revvy and agricultural at motorway speeds. By contrast, the Duratec is notably quieter, characterised by greater top end A road and motorway "cruising" power, albeit at the expense of urban grunt.
As a general rule with all models, the silent killer strikes in several key areas-usually with tell-tale bubbling beneath the paint along the sills, in a circular pattern around the fuel filler cap and sometimes the doors. Treating promptly and Waxolying the chassis annually is the best medicine. Aside from paying particular attention to these these when inspecting a potential purchase, floor pans and boots mustn't be overlooked. Some have problems with water foiling defective seals-typically through the windscreen and travelling inside through the bulkhead-although this isn’t a specific Ka gripe- Focus and Mondeo are also prone to this-most notably when the car is parked on an incline. Feeedback on forums suggests Ford dealers often deny the issue or effect indifferent repair. Models with air conditioning and pollen filters can present similar symptoms so be warned….
Before we become hysterical or neurotic, it’s important to remember as with any vehicle, these are potential problems and unless you’re really unlucky, only a few might present themselves. This is very much an introduction and I have deliberately strayed away from regurgitating every last potential fault or gripe-this is Ka ownership with wider and hopefully, entertaining horizons.