Funeral for a friend

Last night The Boy returned home briefly...I picked him up from school and then got completely battered by a tornado of tales from his week in Germany...from his Facebook posts I knew he'd been having fun...but really it was just a party from the day he arrived until the moment he departed....he had a ball, of course! There was beer, there were girls aplenty.

We had to do some washing because he today he's off again to spend a few days in London with his Grandmother in Wales, Uncle and sister. I started to put clothes in the washing machine, and felt it sensible to check there was nothing in the pockets of his jeans...I had just enough time to recognise what was in the little pocket before they were snatched away from me. I know what was in there; he knows what was in there. I think he knows that I know what was in there...although he may be in denial. But it is the way of the parent that sometimes it's best to say nothing. There will be a time and a place to talk about such things. But last night wasn't it.

I'd have liked to spent longer with him, but he was tired (at least I assume that is why he was so hyper) and I had to leave early to go to a funeral this morning. I'd never met the person...I was going to support one of my best buddies...it was his mother who had died from a combination of breast cancer and alzheimers. That's a pretty evil combination, and I'm sure that it was a relief when she passed away peacefully.

And selfishly, from my perspective, after a fairly hideous few weeks it's helped put life, the universe and everything back in perspective.

Nature: Tara's Gallery

On the one hand this is an easy topic...plenty of scope, etc. On the other it's tricky...just how do you select a single or pair of images to illustrate the theme?

I choose these from our holiday with Grandma in Cyprus last year:



On the one hand, as divers you are at one with nature...the fish swim around you, and will feed out of your hand...it's quite a magical experience. On the other, without the man-made aparatus you wouldn't be there...man and nature in harmony, perhaps



And in this picture...if you look really, really hard, there's a kingfisher on the rusty iron...nature is doing its best to remove this man-made structure which intrudes into the sea, and by so doing creates a beautiful contrast....

Desk diary

First there was Weird John

Then there was Mad Maria. She rented the same desk, "We may need two you know!" she cheerily said as she set up her 'Sustainable Marketing' Consultancy from our office. Well when I say from our office, I mean she paid the rent and spent her days drinking coffee with friends at the local cafe 100 yards down the road. When she was here, she spent her time playing games on her computer, chatting to friends and organising her holiday photos. Unless she had organised a meeting. She seemed to have a LOT OF THOSE. They went on noisily all day, but never seemed to achieve anything. She did organise a few hundred hessian bags to promote her business. They sat in the bottom of a cupboard until the day she left.

Gorgeous George and Gay John (who also work in our office) didn't take to her...from their days as estate agents they vaguely remembered selling her a property. It had been a difficult transaction. It may have been foolish of Gay John to mention how very, very small her house was. And situated in a very peculiar area. Gorgeous George is really just George, happily married father of one. Gay John is not gay at all, but so called because he once bought a fake designer scarf - it was red when he pruchased it, but turned pink in a matter of days. He insisted on wearing it.

We wondered about her 'ethical' approach to life when she came in pleased as punch one day. Her neighbours were having some work done, and Maria wouldn't let the builders carry some ladders across her garden unless they paid £250. After some heated discussion she got her £250. I expect the neighbours turned up their music very loud everyday after that.

She wouldn't contribute to the toner and paper costs for the printer. "I've only printed one page you know", but would happily say, "Can I make a quick call on your phone because my battery is low" and "I'll just send this fax"....

So Maria went.

Mad Maria was replaced by Super Suzanne. At the same desk. Suzanne the Creative Director of a Lighting Consultancy. Suzanne was in and out, cheery and friendly. We like Suzanne. She's busy. She's enthusiastic. Suzanne always has a smile to warm the cockles of your heart.

But oh woe. The project she's involved in needs her on site for the next few months. So Suzanne is going. She's only been here a month. The lovely be-wedded Girl from Spain (she's actually half Peruvian and half Italian, but don't let the detail get in the way) has been away becoming a Mrs and having a honeymoon, and has never met Super Suzanne. We are all quite sad.

So I don't know what it is about this desk, but t seems to have the evil eye. Some sort of juju. Or some voodoo. We think we should have it exorcised. Or perhaps move it to improve the Feng Shui. But something's got to change 'cos we'd like to have a nice person who wants to keep us company during our working hours....

Filthy lucre

I don't normally keep in touch with The Boy when he's away...I've always thought that short breaks away from the watchful parental eye were a good way of encouraging independence...for both of us. I realise the daftness of his approach during his teenage years when he already thinks he's capable of ruling the world. No, the universe. Still, it's something I've stuck to. However, this weekend I felt the need to text him in Germany...the disaster at the Love Festival worried me, only because I remember his German exchange student friend talking a lot about Festivals. Of course, Duisburg is a million miles away from where The Boy is staying, so I was being ridiculous...but then that's what parents are for...isn't it. Naturally, he was fine...and then revealed that he'd been partying every single night. That's six nights on the trot. And whilst I can admire the stamina...we could all do that when we were younger...I now feel the need to panic about what 'partying' might mean. He's back Wednesday evening at which point I'll be a gibbering wreck, and will no doubt never be any the wiser.

I may have mentioned that I've always kept this here blog free from commerciality...its my bit of fun, my hobby. Nothing more, nothing less. But recently, I somehow ended up on some list as one of the Top 10 Daddy Blogs. I don't know how, but I have. And the net result is that I now get daily approaches from companies wanting something. Some will even put something my way. I'm not sure that the stick of rock that I received in the post will quite swing it for me, but I sure as damn am tempted...so I might just have a 'commercial break' once a month. After all I've done worse things than compromise my principles before...oh now there's an idea for a post!

Queue here for an autograph/The Long Way Round/Home alone

This is the first photo I have ever sold commercially - the Moscow underground. It may not be a work of art, but it will be a double page spread in the next issue of Railway Terminal World. Don't snigger. I realise that this is fodder for 'Have I got news for you', but I'm pleased nonetheless. Please pat me on the back...I may yet become the new David Bailley.

Last night I felt like Moses...sort of - you'll have to work with me on this one. I left the office at normal time in brilliant sun and heat...the English summer is lasting more than its traditional single day...but having been warned by The Cat that there was a downpour at home. I dressed in my waterproofs as I sat astride my motorbike, and everyone gave me the strangest of looks. It remained perfectly dry and sunny until I left the A12 where I could see it had been raining but was pretty much dry now. As I rode along, the roads gradually got damper and damper - looking up I could see the blackest of rain clouds in the sky ahead...but they kept retreating. By the time I got to The Castle at Woodford Green, the roads were flooded and water was bubbling up from the drains, further down the hill the water was several inches deep. As I headed down the hill from Buckhurst Hill to Loughton, there was literally a three foot fountain of water coming out of one drain. I took the back roads, the long way round, in Loughton as the High Street had come to a grinding halt. But having weaved my way through yet another traffic jam, my path was nearly blocked by a flood...I decided to ride through it: revs high, keeping steady. The water come up to and over my boots! I made it through, and feel I may be ready for some off-roading now...but I didn't get rained on at all, as the clouds and rain just kept retreating before me.



I hadn't really appreciated until this week what an enormous presence The Boy is. Naturally it's quieter when he's not around, but I'm used to that. But he returned from Army camp on Monday with the force of a hurricane, causing noise, disruption and chaos in the few hours before he disappeared off on his German exchange. He didn't stop talking from the moment I saw him until the moment he left again at 5.15 in the morning. He hugged me goodbye in front of all his friends...how brave is that for a fifteen year-old boy? It was exhausting, exhilarating, and all-consuming. He seems to have captured the essence of life and just exudes a presence and charisma that's quite astonishing and overwhelming. So his current absence is unusually difficult.



Today The Cat and The Cat's Mum have gone off to New York for a week...they used to live in the US, so will be catching up with old friends, old pastures.

I'm left behind, working in the office as usual.

It'll be a quiet week indeed.

I'm not used to being home alone any more.

It's Wednesday....it must be....

...Tara's photogallery time I hear you chime. Well yes, you're right it is. But no, not this week for me...this week people are selecting an image which represents a book they've read and love. And I read plenty of books, and mostly love them all...and even if I don't I still plough on 'til the end. I'd lined something up...I went through a period of taking pictures of lots of numbers..on buildings, in the streets,on vehicles and so on...the idea was to create a 'book of numbers' as a fun way of introducing kids to erm numbers. I thought some of these would be good to illustrate a blog piece for Tara about a book I once read called The Book of Numbers...it was brilliant and about life in Iraq under Saddam Hussein. (Of course, the two things are not related in any way, but ho hum.) But the thing is, I can't remember the author. I'm not so good on things like that which is a severe drawback in my profession. I had meant to go home (the empty one) and find it, but I arrived back from the office without my keys, so missed my chance.

Instead, here's a book that I'd like to read. I saw it down the trendiest street in London, and it amused. You can always judge a book by its cover I say....

Unwelcome visitors

We had to shut all the windows in the office today. And that wasn't much fun as the sun shines inthrough the glass walls on three sides and turns our space into an oven. Nasty. But the alternative was to be overwhelmed by flying ants. When I went out to forage for food at lunchtime, there were flying ants everywhere. It was difficult to walk and talk without swallowing them, and that's just not nice. Bermondsey street was alive with these wretched creepies. And when I returned to the office they were threatening to make themselves unwelcome visitors at my desk. I insist on appointments. So the windows were shut and I perspired. It's good for weight loss.

We had them in Buckhurst Hill once...they came up through the floor boards and sat themselves on the sofa. I didn't offer them tea, just a doss and a half of fly killer. They never came back, but the Dyson took a long time to pick them up.

The Boy on the other hand has returned and a most welcome return it was. On the other hand, his wallet and £40 spending money has has not. Lost somewhere on exercises on Salisbury Plain. It's an expensive lesson for which he deserved to be firmly told off; except I', likely to do the same thing so I'd hate the phrase 'hoisted by your own petard' to come into play. He's off at 5.00am to go and visit his German Exchange friend, so I'll get to see sunrise. Marvellous.

Another welcome return was Penn and Teller, the illusionists/magicians who used to dominate our small screens 15 or 20 years ago. We saw them in Hammersmith and very good they were. Hardly aged at all. It was slightly easier to see how they did their tricks this time round in Hammersmith, but still a lot of fun.

Not so welcome was Roxy Music on Jonathan Ross on friday. We went off JR some years ago, but it was his last show, so it had to be seen. Poor old Mr Ferry seems to have lost his singing ability, which is a real shame. Still it'll save me a few quid on concert tickets.

At the start of last week, we had visitors. From the States. They were lovely, and we treated them to Oliver! After our weekend in Spain I struggled to stay awake, but I was surprised to realise that even after a gap of 35 years, I knew all the words to all the songs.....

Keeping your head down

The Boy's been away for nearly a week now, yet miraculously we're still finding items of clothing to be washed. It's completely inexplicable really...underwear, socks, shirts miraculaously appear from nowhere. We're mystified. But no more mystified than when he's at home, and produces twice as much washing as anyone else. A washing basket that's emptied one day is full the next. We daren't go a day without putting the washing machine on for fear of falling so far behind that we'll never catch up. He denies wearing more than one set of clothes a day, but there's no denying it multiplies once he takes it off. It was something I noticed when it was just The Boy and I, but now The Cats Mum (who is invariably master of the washing - yes, sorry stereotypes do still apply) is as mystified as me...solutions on a postcard, please!

It's been a struggle getting up and out this week. Since he was quite young, The Boy has been an Organic Alarm Clock...always first up, his movements are sufficient to get the rest of the house on the move. But in his absence, I've been unable to get to the office before 9.15...and one day it was 10 before I put my head round the door. The alarm still goes off at the same time, but I can let it ring until it stops without feeling the need to lift my head off the pillow, and when the radio goes, I can never resist staying for just one more song. Again and again and again. The Cat also seems to struggle....she always enjoys her bed, but yesterday she excelled and spent the entire day in her pyjamas...that's the luxury of youth on school holidays I guess.

It'll be a couple of weeks before The Boy is properly back in residence and in a week's time everyone but me will be away on holiday. I would be jealous, but I expect I'll still be asleep in bed....

For Tara's Gallery - can you guess

I wasn't going to join in this week...only because I saw so many great pictures already that I didn't think I had anything to add. But then I was rooting through my computer and found these which I took a little while ago, and thought they deserved to see the light of day...

Spooky

We're not great TV watchers...in fact the Cats Mum and I have probably managed a couple of hours all year...and an hour of that was Top Gear last week. The Cat and The Boy equally are rarely to be seen glued to the gogglebox. That's not to say screen based entertainment isn't their thing. It most certainly is...the BBC's iplayer is frequently used on the computer for time-shifted viewing. And we joke about the 'boxed sets' of series that have to be purchased for late night school holiday viewing...Life on Mars and Ashes to Ashes were firm favourites earlier this year. Not to mention The Boy's X-Box, and The Cat's Gameboy.

I used to quite enjoy Spooks...although never managing to see an entire series through (so invariably not knowing what on earth is going on). Last year they filmed an episode in our local cafe...I wished I'd watched it when it was broadcast, but managed to miss it. And yesterday, they were filming an episode for Series 9. There's something about 'Lights, Camera, Action'...and no doubt these are the only bits of the series I shall actually see!





This was almost as much fun as when Madonna filmed outside our last office a couple of years ago...she is indeed wearing glasses (must be human like the rest of us):



But then we didn't have to be warned about gunfire:

Viva Espana

I'm endlessly fascinated...like all parents I guess...to see how The Boy grows and develops, and our relationship changes. He's gone from being a permanently smiling bundle of joy to a mature teen (well most of the time anyway). School broke up on Friday, and the long summer break beckons.

This morning he was off on army camp for a week, he'll be back for a night before heading off to Germany to stay with his exchange student's family, returning for another brief overnight stay before a few nights with his Grandmother and Uncle and Sister to celebrate her 21st...I remember when she was just four. Startling. He had told me camp is in Kent. That turns out to be Aldershot. Heaven help us, as The Boy is an A* Geographer...

We hadn't spent the weekend together...in fact this is the first time The Boy and The Cat had been left overnight by themselves...just for Saturday night. It was a big step, but given the state of the house when we returned, there hadn't been a Facebook party. So that was a relief. One small step for Mankind, one giant leap for parenting.

Saturday morning we had headed for Spain...to Asturias for a wedding. No one seems to have heard of it, which is fantastic because it is unspoilt by foreign tourists. You can fly there by Easyjet...and I would recommend it highly. It is quite startling countryside, beautiful craggy cliffs and beaches and mountains. We stayed in a hotel that had formerly been owned by a family who had made their fortune in South America...it was very grand. These houses are a feature of the area...many are just dilapidated, which is a tragedy...I feel a Grand Designs moment coming on! For lunch we had delicious sole caught that morning.







The wedding started at 6.00pm, and was a full Catholic service in Spanish, of course! I couldn't follow a thing, but The Cats Mum is a committed Papist, so knew roughly what was going on! The family were completely relaxed about the coaches taking us to the reception being an hour late, and quite relaxed about the caterer refusing to stop serving canapes until he was ready. The canapes included octopus, but I am assured it wasn't Paul the psychic octopus from Weymouth who lives in Germany had been correctly predicting the outcome of World Cup matches. We eventually sat down for the meal as the clock struck midnight, having already consumed a quantity of the local cider (always poured from a great height to aerate it) and a Peruvian cocktail (the bride is half Peruvian). We danced until four, returning to the hotel at 5...the last coach of revellers made it back at 8.00, leaving many people still dancing!







We flew back to Blighty in the afternoon, which was a shame because it would have been nice to see THE football in Spain, but in all honesty we were somewhat exhausted and anxious to spend some time with The Boy before he disappears. Naturally he had decided to spend the evening with his girlfriend...he returned in time for bed.

So looking forward to seeing The Boy again in a week's time.

Is God a Transit van?*

I only ask, because it seems to be the implication of this video by the street artist Blu. It's 9 minutes long, so if you think you will watch it all (and I'd recommend you do) I'd go and make a cup of tea first:

BIG BANG BIG BOOM - the new wall-painted animation by BLU from blu on Vimeo.

Many people asked me about the pictures which I posted a couple of weeks ago in Tara's Gallery

The Boy also thinks they are spectacular, and on a 'not quite authorised' trip to Brick Lane last Friday, he came across this:



I think they are spectacular too, so it wasn't too much of a hardship to investigate further, and just by googling 'big animal paintings Hackney Road' I soon found out they are by a Belgian street artist called Roa. Most excitingly, I found a map...a treasure map...which identified where other Roa's can be found. This is the map:



So on Tuesday, The Cat's Mum and I set out on a quest. We guessed from the map that not all would still be there...and indeed some weren't, but we found a few...and also had a very good chat with the owner of the Pure Evil gallery that represents him in the UK. We even found one of his pieces down in their basement, obscured by a pile of debris



It was a hot evening, so our adventure was punctuated by stops at watering holes, and because they've just opened a new railway line (yes even in central London!), we couldn't reach one picture, but here are the results of our endeavours:









This is the one we couldn't get to:



And this is one that's been painted over:



And this is something that we came across that I thought was very clever but nothing to do with Roa:



I wanted to add a bit now about how as a young, jet setting PR Executive I was in Madrid 20 years ago and stumbled across an exhibition which blew my mind...it was by a then relatively unknown (outside the art world) artist called Anish Kapoor, and I've been a devoted follower ever since. More recently, but still a few years ago, when The Boy and I lived in Hoxton, we came across various brilliant pieces by a then completely unknown artist who goes by the name of Banksy....

Half the fun with art is in the discovery,and I hope to see much more of Roa in the coming years. It's a shame street art is so transitory, but that is its nature, and whilst it lasts it helps make urban environments so much more entertaining.

* I realise that this isn't actually a Transit Van, but Fiat Van doesn't seem to work quite so well

Holidaying at Tara's Gallery

It's that time again...Wednesday rolls around so quickly. This week's theme is 'Holiday' so I'm expecting lots of pictures of beaches...it's always interesting to read the stories behind the image.

I thought I would share two images. Well one picture and one video. Both holidays mean a lot to me.

Here is The Boy in Bavaria which we visited last year. I blogged about it at the time. It was a wonderful week, which transported me back to my very late teens, as I spent my summer in Oberjoch before venturing to University. I hadn't been back since, and it was for me an emotional return to the hotel where I worked washing dishes. The hotel was still run by the same family, so I was able to reminisce. I think the holiday inspired The Boy - he loved the place, he takes German at GCSE (and likely through A Level) and will be taking two trips to Germany this year.



And this video. It might not look much. A red blob (I don't mean that in a blobby sense, but ski wear is hardly flattering) sliding a few metres down the snowy slope in France. I took the video in January. This was the first holiday that The Boy and I holidayed with The Cat and The Cat's Mum. The Cat's Mum doesn't like exercise. At all. Her friends said she'd never come. She did. She threw herself into learning to ski...which is never easy. And she might have even enjoyed it...although she'll never admit it...well not to her friends anyway - only to me. This is the first time this video has seen the light of day (and my first YouTube upload) so in tabloid fashion I add:

EXCLUSIVE!

Sell me a child?

I've always been quite envious of the blogger mummies who get invited on press trips to all sorts of fabulous places. Invariably they come back and write up something fabulous...well you would wouldn't you? Me, I get all sorts of press releases which are usually completely wrongly targeted.

I once got invited to the launch of moist toilet paper. Really???? Why would I go to that???

And the reason for this is that Don't Panic RTFM is listed on many of the media listings under parenting blogs. Indeed it is, but most parenting blogs are written by lovely mummies who have lovely cuddly bundles of joy, usually in nappies, but certainly no more than at primary school. The problem with PRs is that they never read the publications they send their missives to. No wonder they have such bad reputations...

But yesterday I got an invite to an aquarium in Boulogne. Marvelous. And I can bring a child...I checked their web site, and children are between 3 and 12. The boy is 15...and a big, grown-up fifteen at that. He likes fish. A lot. But mostly in batter, and sometimes with a creamy sauce but never with a watercress dressing.

I quite like aquariums so I rather fancy going, so I think I need to rent a child. I don't mind what sort. Just so long as they don't get in the way of my viewing of the fish. You can have them back at the end of the day.