Chillin'

So today, I'm chilling not grilling as I was yesterday. Wednesday has come around and with it Tara's gallery.

We've been visited by a cat in the office who seemed to enjoy himself here whilst the rest of us got down to hard work. As ever with cats, it was all about finding the best place to lie down and sleep. I wish I led a cat's life....



Sometimes we have a dog in the office; but I feel it would be unwise to have the cat and the dog in the office at the same time.

Getting grilled

Bob Crow.

That's a name that should send shivers down your spine. He is the last bastion of old school unionism and probably responsible for bringing more people out on more strikes than anyone else in recent years. My heart sank when I see he has sorted out a deal with National Rail to keep the trains moving during the Olympics. Except the deal doesn't actually prevent Crow and his cronies from calling a strike if it suits them. Plus they're getting a fat pay rise, with no one to be sacked during the world's greatest festival of sport...but shock horror gasp, they can be suspended on full pay. It appears that after months of negotiation, Network Rail chief executive David Higgins has pulled his trousers down, bent over and allowed the unions to shaft him until he has a rectal prolapse, but insists on smiling about it. At RMT headquarters they'll be celebrating with the finest champagne for years to come. The inevitable consequence of this deal will be an ever more confident union willing to bring its members out at the drop of a hat (even the image of Crow getting his member out when someone drops their hat makes me squirm) knowing they hold the reigns. Pay increases like this are greedy and little better than the selfishness which we expect from City bankers. The only people who will suffer are rail travellers who have to fork out more and more from their reduced wallets. I'd like to give Crow a grilling about why he thinks this selfish greed is right when it harms many of the people who declare themselves 'working class'. But as it's been pointed out to me, you can't deny the man does his job very well. If only someone who's got a spine would stand up to him....before the next round of tube strikes.

And talking of grilling....

I'm a great fan of grilled food...The Cat's Mother prefers to fry the sausages and bake the fish in a sauce, but The Boy and I have grown up grilling our food. The Cat's Mother's response is always, "Well if you don't like it, then cook for yourself." And that seems a little unfair, as clearly my role is culinery strategy and hers is tactics. Its the division of labour and accepting your responsibilities I say....

As it happens, and in a shameless nod towards commercialism, I'd like you all to note that next week is National Get Grilling Week. I'd love to believe that this is a tradition firmly grounded in the ancient rite of boar hunting as practiced by our ancestors, but I suspect that isn't the case. It may be, but I'm not holding my breath. So the people that make George Foreman are sending us a grill, some food and some recipes for us to try next week. I used to have an electric grill, but in the clearing out of the kitchen in Brighton it joined the electric pancake maker in the skip. So it will be good to have a replacement...I used to cook all sorts of things on it; I wonder if I'll be able to cook an omelette on it liked I did the last one? I will report back on how much we've managed to turn into charcoal, which is no bad thing because in the fine weather we're having I like a good BBQ too.

Anyway, normal BBC-like service resumed tomorrow

Stars of stage and screen

It seems that for the next 15-20 years nuclear power will remain the cheapest way of generating electricity, so that's where the government will be investing its (our) money. Wind, wave and solar power are better for the world, our children and our children's children, but because of economic constraints we'll be investing in nuclear which generates dangerous waste that will remain dangerous for thousands of years. That seems completely perverse to me. Let's not forget Fukushima eh?

It's been a cultural week for us.

On Tuesday we searched high and low to find a cinema that was showing Pina, Wim Wender's feature-length dance film in 3D with the ensemble of the Tanztheater Wuppertal about Pina Bausch. Now even I will admit this is pretty specialised stuff. A dance film. In German. With subtitles. About a choreographer that few people know about. But it was good. Really, really good. Perhaps a few too many face to camera comments, but the dancing was amazing...and worked extremely well in 3D too. My only disappointment? Not one single piece of Dad-dancing for me to copy.




Then on Thursday we were off to Secret Cinema...The Cat came; The Boy lingered at home feeling unwell. And we went from the sublime to the ridiculous. On walking into Leake St near Waterloo (sometimes known as Banksy's tunnel) we entered a recreated Algeria in the 1950's. We hadn't guessed the film by then, and didn't guess it then. We wondered about Cassablanca, even though it was wrong country, wrong time. There were French soldiers every where treating us badly, pushing us around shouting at us in a language we didn't understand. When it was time for the film itself to start, we were ushered through the tunnels and along narrow passageways before climbing through a wall to watch......

...a black and white film, in French, with subtitles about the Algerian revolt against 130 years of French rule. Battle for Algiers evidently won numerous awards when it was released in the mid-1960's, and was a quite incredibly even-handed narrative of events given that it was free Algeria's first feature-length film. It may not have been my first choice of film, but it couldn't have been more pertinent to the current world situation. It would have been hard to watch if it wasn't for all the theatre that comes with Secret Cinema.






Friday night and we headed for the south coast...Brighton Festival is the second largest cultural festival in the UK. It'll be the largest if the Scotties vote for independence in a couple years time as Alex Salmond hopes (or is he just hoping that southern money will continue heading across the border in ever increasing amounts?) And one of the highlights for us is to stand in an old church that's been converted into a gallery surrounded by forty loudspeakers to listen to err err errm Spem in Alium - Forty Part Motet sung by the Purcell Singers. One speaker for each chorister. And in between each part (one part for each of Elizabeth 1's 40 years), they didn't turn off the recording equipment so you can listen to coughing and spluttering, the chitter and chatter...the gossip. Pretty moving stuff. Find it here

And finally, it was Open Art House weekend in Brighton, so we took it as an opportunity to poke our noses into other people's homes in the neighbourhood. Isn't that what what 'Open House' means? Anyway, we found a treasure of a lift...it looks like an original, and judging by the fire place was put in what was the living room:



And we did buy some little bronze figurines....



This is Mrs Beaton



And a gaggle of kids in a soup ladel...and further along the row, a child reading in a spaghetti spoon

Nothing like a bit of kulcher is there?

Fair enough*

I may have mentioned. In fact I did mention, that last year we had the kitchen 'done'. Not in the same way that cats and dogs get 'done', but nonetheless, done it was. Just to refresh your memory, here's a picture. In fact several.






Please note the lovely kitchen appliances. Even though most of them are hidden behind frosted glass doors.

As you can tell I'm very proud of it...and them...especially the induction hob which a year or so later I still can't work out how to use properly. I may have to reading the instruction manual.

I may have mentioned. In fact I did mention, that a couple of weeks ago we went to see Iolanthe...the Gilbert and Sullivan opera at Wilton's Music Hall. The performance was full of fairies, not surprisingly because it was a fairytale. Albeit one with a bit of bite. And all the fairies were boys. Now I've always thought of fairies as being girls, but in this performance they were definitely boys. Some even had hairy chests. It was a delightful performance, and not the first I've seen where the boys have come out. Last year we went to see Matthew Bourne's Swan Lake, where everyone is a boy.

So my life is full of fairies. Although I'm not sure the Tooth Fairy exists.

Anyway in amongst the confusion of whether there really are fairies and whether they're boys or girls, I've been visited by a fairy. The Fairy Hobmother**. And as HE says, he not a fairy in that sense. He gets paid to be one. Now I may be a bit prim and proper (when it suits), but I think there's a law against getting paid for it.

But anyway, in return for a vast and enormous sprinkling of fairy dust on my bank account (erm, an Amazon voucher), I've promised to mention Appliances Online, and in particular their vast array of washing machines here

Which is odd, really, because when we got the kitchen sorted, the only thing we didn't replace was the washing machine...it was almost new anyway. But the rest of the appliances did by some remarkable coincidence come from Appliances Online.

So there we have it.

* Fair enough... "Hello, I'm a fairy, Fairy Nuff"

** If you leave a comment, the Fairy may come and visit you too

A month in pictures

Well normally, once a month I put up some pictures that I've taken the previous month. It's usually the First Friday of the month, but as Tara's Gallery theme this week is April, I thought I'd do it today. So here's First Thursday Photos...it nearly works! Not a vintage month...




Evidently a 'at shop in 'ackney...I liked the name



The evening sun whilst we sat in the very delicious Brawn Restaurant



No, not tulips in Amsterdam, Tulips in Brighton



Roa strikes again



The roof at St Pancras whilst we sat supping champagne at the Champagne Bar...well what else would you do?



At the Nota Bene house, the vote was split on the Royal Wedding.

And talking of voting...hope you're going to put your cross in the Yes for AV box today...

Learning something new

I tend to giggle when I find out that I've lived for years not knowing something pretty basic in life. Today I discovered that duck tape is in fact duct tape. It's obvious really isn't it? After all why would you be taping ducks together, unless you are some sort of weird sicko.

Not that it's going to make any difference. Duck tape it has always been and duck tape it always will be.

I may be wrong, but I don't remember a year when there was so much news. Obviously it's not that 'stuff' has started happening in 2011, it's just that there seems to be a lot of 'big' things going on. The up side is that it gives me a very positive feeling that 'things' are changing, and with so many wrongs, that can only be for the good. On the downside, it means that some news that would otherwise get noticed, quickly passes by and is forgotten long before it should be. Henry Cooper passed away this weekend. Some of us remember him more for Brut 33 than for his boxing, but there was always a feeling that he was a true Brit hero...ever the underdog; never quite making it, but plucky, determined and 'nice'.

Last week I wrote a piece on superinjunctions, but didn't get a moment to post it...I may have missed my moment, so it'll stay there in the drafts gathering literary cobwebs. But do have a look on Twitter under the #superinjunction hash tag and see which names pop up.

I only remember waking up once before feeling the world had changed. That was when Tony Blair was elected. It was a sunny, warm day, the sky was blue with white clouds and the air tasted different. There was a feeling of hope, a positive buzz in the air....and things would be different.

And so it was on again this weekend. I came downstairs early after a restless night, switching on the computer as the newspaper hadn't yet been delivered. I almost couldn't believe my eyes at the news of Osama Bin Laden's death. Outside, the sun was shining, the sky was blue and when I opened the conservatory door, the air tasted different. I am sure that with the death of Bin Laden the world has changed.

There's so much chat about this, that I doubt I can add much if anything to what's been said already. So for my own sake as much as anyone else's, here's what I think. As a symbolic leader, his passing will take some of the wind out of the sails of the extremists...although I, like pretty much everyone else, expect there to be some fall out in the short term. Blood will be spilt. Should the Americans be celebrating, should we all be celebrating? Many are pointing out that it's wrong to celebrate the death of a human being. But a celebration, particularly by Americans is inevitable given the enormous impact on their psyche that 9/11 had. Equally, I hope we are in fact celebrating one less piece of evil in the world rather than an individual. And this was a battle victory...something that humans have celebrated since time began. Should he have been buried at sea? Yes absolutely it was necessary to stop there ever being a shrine. And it had to be done quickly before any debate developed to muddy the waters.

For me, though, the real question is, what does this mean for The Cat, The Boy and us as a family. Of course, only time will tell, but if this particular victory gives the West the confidence, the courage and the conviction to engage with the Muslim world in a more positive way, then we will benefit as extremism will be talked out of existence. Already, the Arab Spring is undermining the despotic rulers whose existence and our support of them helped feed the extremists in the first place. It's a smaller step than the Americans might think, but it is certainly a step towards a safer future. Let's hope the opportunity is seized with both hands.

The wind of change is blowing, let's hope it's for the good.

And talking of change, please vote FOR AV...it may not be the best system, but it's certainly much better than the one we've got at the moment.

A right royal weekend

Phew that was quite a weekend.

Friday morning we invited a few friends round in the morning - not all the Family could make it so we invited some Essex Royalty:



Just to get us really going it was a 21st Birthday celebration on Friday night...we'd have danced all night, but The Boy and The Cat were along with us, and we're being right Royal stick in the muds. So come half past-eleven as I was getting into full Dad dancing mode, a taxi was summoned and off we went. The 21 year-old is the daughter of one of The Cat's Mother's oldest friends, so it was a shame, especially as it was being held in their garden in a beautiful marquee. Admittedly the DJ didn't have a clue about how to move from one song to the next without a jarring crash, but that didn't stop anyone from 5 to 95 strutting their stuff.

Saturday, and we had the Welsh Contingent trooping their colours. With The Boy turning sweet sixteen, they drove from Wales for their first visit here. And Grandma in Wales brought The Uncle and The Boy's sister...plus we had Unexpected Friend and The Nanny too. As the sun was out, we spent most of the day supping and snacking in the garden, apart from a regal lunch in the dining room.



Sunday was The Boy's celebration proper, so he was crowned Birthday Boy for the duration. Some fifteen of his friends were round for a bbq, which naturally I was in charge of whilst the boys played rugby and the girls looked on. At the same time My Brother and his girlfriend arrived and he gave us his expert opinion on why all our yuccas and palms had died...too much winter cold in December. The Boy was delighted to have him here, I was delighted to have him here...we always have a lot to catch up on.



The only casualties were a stone wall which collapsed when lent on during the table tennis match, and a sore eye from an over-zealous rugby tackle.

We'd have been flagging by Sunday, but maintained a regal dignity as we headed to Loch Fyne Restaurant for another gathering. Fifteen of us took the chance to continue The Boy's birthday celebrations, it was just a shame that they served only fourteen meals and then poured a very hot latte over The Cat. She was a scalded Cat, and I'd have said off with their heads, but it wasn't the time to spoil the celebrations.

So back to work tomorrow for some RnR...well we deserve it don't we? Anyway, thank heavens there was nothing else of any note going on this weekend. I need a cup of tea...

.

Only a day late to the party

No, not THAT party...as a staunch republican I'm torn between my deeply held views and the joyous pleasure of knowing I can get a long lie in tomorrow morning...

I mean Tara's Gallery of course...it was yesterday, but hey ho, as I said these short weeks confuse me immeasurably. The theme is green. And what a lot of green photos I have. Green grass, green trees, The Boy's green bike and so on. But I've chosen this picture of a green frog. I took this with my phone as the frog climbed up the wall of Grandma in Cyprus' house. He had his eye on a juicy fat stick insect (mmm, is that a contradiction in terms?), but I think we messed up his plans. It's always a pleasure seeing the wildlife in Cyprus, and I love going there to see my mum and 'Grandad in Cyprus'. I'm really looking forward to going back later on this year, although how we fit it in with all the commitments the offspring have I just don't know; but I'm sure we'll manage!

Do not not read this

We seem to be living in a strange void at the moment. A four day weekend last weekend, and another coming up. I wouldn't want you to think that I think this is a bad thing. I don't. I like it. I really do. I've long been an advocate of three day weekends, so logically a four day weekend must be 33% better. After all life is for living not for grinding ourselves into an early grave sweating away in an office. Or a factory. Or down a mine. Or wherever you do your thing. But it gets me confused, and today is Wednesday yet it's only my second day in the office this week, so it should be Tuesday. And tomorrow is my last day in the office, so today should be Thursday. I'm most confused.

Talking of being confused...a year or so I wrote about how The Cat's Mother had bought me the DVD of Ingloriouus Bastards, which we settled down to watch. And wait for Brad Pitt to appear, which he didn't. It took The Boy to point out that we had indeed been watching the original Inglorious Bastards, and NOT Quentin Tarantino's Inglorious Basterds. No wonder it was such a great parody of a cliche-ridden B Movie. We did eventually get to watch the real thing.

The opening shows a Gestapo officer searching for Jews. He's a Nazi in all senses of the word. So it was quite fun when The Boy showed me this parody last week:



The opening exchange about double negatives was a beautiful reflection of a letter that I've received from the Inland Revenue. As The Boy is heading to sweet sixteen, they wrote because his child allowance comes to an end unless he goes onto further education. I read it and put it to one side because I didn't need to do anything I thought. It took The Cat's Mother to point out that I had misread it and I do need to respond. The crucial phrase was:

Do not fill in this form or contact us if The Boy is not going to do any of the above

I'm not suggesting that the Inland Revenue are Nazis. You may think that. But I couldn't possibly comment.

A row of tents

NOT an Easter Egg...but usually given at Easter. I'm not expecting one.



Well we're cruising through to Easter quite nicely. Not religious by nature, I can't deny that the treat of having Hot Cross buns tomorrow and a big chocolate egg on Sunday is something to look forward to. As is a four-day weekend. With The Boy and The Cat returning after their long yomp in the Brecon Beacons, it promises to be a lively few days. Especially as, I hope, that thoughts of impending exams can be banished for a few days. There are some things that need to be given up AFTER Lent, not For Lent.


At the same time, the balance of who decides what will change too. The Cat's Mother and I when left to our own devices just muddle along, gently taking decisions because they suit....with the return of the offspring again, we will have to start thinking about their needs. That's democracy for you.

In the wider world. democracy is not all that it seems. You probably think you live in a democracy here in the UK, but there is democracy and there is democracy. An interesting piece of news yesterday was a report from the Constitution Unit at University College London that said the House of Lords is overly full. Indeed, that's not surprising given that David Cameron has taken it upon himself to create 117 Peers of the Realm since he took power, bringing the total to 792. That's 792 men and women who have not been elected yet are taking decisions about our lives on a daily basis. Worse still, of the 117 new peers, a large proportion are former MPs. Yes, that'll be people that we, the electorate, have decided we do not want to represent us, but are still part of the Parliamentary system. To my mind, that stinks of a 'ruling class' completely disregarding the desires of the voters...the people they are supposed to be representing. It's certainly not democracy in my books. David Cameron is the current villain, but it was Tony Blair's bunch who started parliamentary reform, but did it in such a half-hearted, half-arsed way that we're left with a whole house of parliament which is appointed. I don't think it's been that bad for 500 years.

The political system was much in mind yesterday, as we went off to London's last music hall (and best secret venue), Wilton's Music Hall to see Gilbert and Sullivan's Iolanthe. Apart from Wiltons being such a special venue (have a look here), the production was equally special...the cast is entirely male. So there was a whole troop of male fairies. Judging by the audience, it was fairies playing fairies. And very splendid they were too. Sometimes 'camp' is wrong, but here they played it to the full and very fun it was too. In case you're not familiar with G&S (and I can't say I've seen more than a couple in my life), the story mixes true love and politics...involving fairies, Lords, an Arcadian shepherd, a Lord Chancellor and the beautiful Phyllis in a tangled-web of love and betrayal. There is conflict between the Peers and the Fairies and the as a punishment the fairy queen installs the lowly shepherd in the House of Lords, and he makes any decisions he likes because the other peers are charmed to support him. Naturally it's a happy ending and you can read the full plot here. But it's quite a smart political commentary.

So all in all we managed to travel full circle yesterday. Politics in the news, politics on the stage, camping in the Brecon Beacons and camping it up on the stage. Isn't symmetry nice?

NOT Gilbert and Sullivan:

No comment

Today is gallery day, so normally I'd be putting up a picture. The theme this week is 'My Blog' which is a tricky one...but there's nothing like a challenge is there? I'd decided exactly what I wanted to put up - a picture of the person that inspired me to start 'Don't panic RTFM'. She writes for a living, we worked together for a while, and now she lives in the States with hubby and offspring. It was her encouragement that got me going...but I've hunted high and low and just can't find a picture of her. So instead, here's the link to Nappy Valley's blog.

The Boy popped home the other night in between Adventurous training and going off on Silver Duke of Edinburgh Award in Wales. As ever it was an exhausting experience. That's not to say it wasn't fun...it certainly was...how could it not be? He makes what would otherwise be a pretty gentle, quiet, even refined household a vortex of fun, noise and oooomph. He is like a cuckoo in the nest.

Although he was back for just a few short hours, one of his tasks was to start putting back in his room all the things that had been moved out whilst it was decorated. And it was a very, very telling time. Here is a picture of his bathroom cabinet. Can you count the number of face washes and deodorants he had previously hidden around the place.



Is it any wonder that my automatic response to any thing he asks for is 'No' on the basis that I know he doesn't need it. He is in truth more like a magpie....

I once had a letter published in The Times. Somewhere in the dark, dusty cob-web strewn loft the newspaper is waiting to be thrown away. I wish I could remember what it was about, but I can't really. It was quite a palaver. I wrote the thing; no I had crafted it and then faxed (!) it off to them. A while later, I had a call from them to ask whether it had been published elsewhere. When I said no, they asked me not to send it anywhere else. It felt like quite an honour, and I was pleased as punch when I bought a copy of the paper the next day. I showed it to all my friends and colleagues before carefully storing it for posterity. I have a feeling this was pre-Murdoch days, when The Times could still claim to be The Thunderer.

These days it's all a bit different isn't it? Sure there are letters pages, but most interaction with the press is by comment at the end of an article. But instead of carefully nurtured thoughts crafted into well-drafted pieces all we get to see are torrents of abuse and vitriol. A long comment is "This is shit. You are a moron" and that's after it's been moderated. I do feel that whilst the ability to express views and opinions is a basic human right and fundamental to a successful, functioning democracy, the ability to do it instantly in the interweb is just plain destructive. Once the preserve of drunken pub conversations, abusive commentary has become the mainstream. Perhaps it is the case that it is only the aggressive, uneducated, the Saturday night louts that have the time and adrenalin to put their fighting talk on line. It is absolutely the case that hurling abuse at your fellow man and womankind does not make for a happy, harmonious environment just one where the poison of negativity aggressiveness that permeates the very fabric of the society we live in.

The unholy trinity

As I road to work today I could see as the traffic slowed ahead a large red and white mess which was blocking the centre lane. At first I thought it must be a sheep, but given that this is an elevated section of a busy dual carriageway, even I realised this was unlikely. As it turned out, I rode past the dismembered remains of a swan...I've never seen that before. Plenty of road kill, but a swan is something different. I can't think how it happened, but would undoubtedly have left a very big dent on whatever hit it. Such a shame. Still that's one less for the Queen to count.

Cuba is one of those places that I, like many others, would love to visit. I'm a great admirer of what Castro tried to achieve, even if the reality is that he failed. He wouldn't have failed quite so badly if the US had not adopted a policy designed to bring down the communists, and doggedly sticks with it in its complete absurdity. Changing US policy to Cuba is one thing Obama could have done relatively easily, but as with all things has largely ducked the issue, as he has in the Middle East. So it is interesting that the younger Castro is now bringing about reforms that could bring Cuba into the twenty-first century...the promise of limiting leadership terms and probably most importantly to start allowing the buying and selling of property...although recent US and European experience may suggest that keeping a very tight reign on the whole thing is the only way to survive. Let's hope that the gradual reforms are enough to make this a peaceful process before the current leadership expires...history tells us that is unlikely, but then Cuba has done a lot to change history.

I may have mentioned my thoughts on the bankings sector before. Have I? I may even have mentioned my thoughts on the credit rating agencies - Moody's, Standard and Poors and Fitch's. This glorious bunch of criminals are the ones that decide how financially worthy an organisation, a financial product, a sovereign state is. They're also the ones that merrily gave first class ratings to the bundles of mortgages that were never going to be repaid and precipitated the current financial crisis. With their failings laid bare before us, it has staggered me that any one pays any attention to them. It wasn't just incompetence on their part, many would argue that it was a criminal conspiracy. After all, their clients are the banks - the very ones that gain from any changes in credit ratings...after all they charge more in interest to the less credit-worthy.

Last week, Moody's decided to downgrade the Irish Republic...in the face of very positive reports from both the EU and the IMF. And this week they followed this by downgrading further the Irish Banks to 'junk status'. This makes it more expensive for the Irish to raise money...increasing the likelihood of failure. Perverse on all levels, apart from the money markets who must be rubbing their hands with glee. The impact goes beyond the Irish borders,as once more the vultures are circling around Greece, and all the work of shoring up the Euro is being seriously undermined by these cowboys. Portugal could well be back in the firing line. Be sure that if one domino falls, the rest will follow suit...and we will be directly in the line of fire. That will mean crippling interest rates destroying any prospect of economic recovery and millions more unemployed.

And just to underline how these people operate, yesterday they issued a warning about the US, for its lack of a deficit plan, sending shares spiraling down around the globe. Potentially, that could devastate the global economy.

The question is why do we allow these people to have more power than Governments? Why do we give these private corporations which have been demonstrably incompetent, and perhaps criminally corrupt the power to devastate the lives of billions of people? Without question, they should be dissolved and replaced by an international body that doesn't have a conflict of interest, or commercial considerations, to do this job. Before it's too late.

Have a read about it on the BBC here

And here is an advert in memory of another fallen swan

A balanced view

Given the chaos that is The Middle East and Northern Africa at the moment, it may well have escaped your attention that Burkina Faso is also in the midst of some unrest, with soldiers rampaging on the streets. This follows a fevered February when it was the students' turn to protest against the Government. Burkino Faso is one of those countries that has no military, economic or political significance, rating just 161 out of 169 on the UN's list of national development, and most of us don't even know where it is (I had to check). So events there don't reach the front pages of our newspapers. I read about it on France 24 and Al Jazeera, which only goes to prove that need to get your news from one place to get a balanced picture of what's going on in the world. I'm not holding my breath that the UN will come and sort this one out, but the French may be on a roll, so don't be surprised if they send some assistance...although to which side I just don't know.

The Boy is back from Adventurous training in the Lake District, later on, but it'll be far from a return to normal as both he and The Cat are off on Silver Duke of Edinburgh tomorrow morning....six o'clock in the morning to be precise. I'm not sure what it is about the school that they feel the need to inflict such early rising punishment on the parents. So the prospects for tonight are a whirlwind of The Boy talking ten to the dozen (what does that mean?) as he washes and dries his clothes for the next couple of weeks...we'll be exhausted. The Cat's Dad has offered to pick them both up and take them to the school which is an interesting dilema...it seems churlish to say no, even though The Boy (humourously I think) refers to him as El Bastardo in a heavy South American accent. But as I haven't seen The Boy much this holiday I quite fancy the early rise.

Talking of things South American, we went to see Rio this weekend. Inspite of the hype, it's really quite a disappointment. One of the great things about being a parent is being able to see those films that you would be seen dead at as a teenager, but as the years advance you know would be fun to watch, so it's a double disappointment when the film is not up to standard. We had to kidnap the Muffins to give us reason to go. Anyway, the two lead human characters are hopeless...completely dorky which is fine when they save the day at the end of the film, but they were just as dorky at the end as they were at the beginning. I can't even say the animal/bird characterisation was much better, and the 'Angry Birds' placement added nothing to the film. So save your money on that one.

On a happy note at the ned, Nigeria appears to have held reasonably free and fair elections, and it looks like the incumbent will win. His name is Goodluck Jonathan. So in the hope that some degree of democracy has been achieved in Nigeria, goodluck Jonathan.

History is bunk

It's depressing to see The World's Oldest Man has died. The thing is, he seems to die every month. As does The World's Oldest Woman. I never read beyond the headline, but it does seem strange to me that they keep on popping off like that. It's a title I hope I never get to inherit. I'm not even sure how you apply for it, perhaps it's just an honourary thing.

It's been an odd week without The Boy. The house is a lot quieter, so we're all looking forward to him coming back to us from his week away doing 'Adventurous Training'. I don't normally keep in touch with him whilst he's away, but on this occasion we've swapped a few texts, although no doubt not as many as he's swapped with his girlfriend, and in any case, they dried up altogether on Thursday...no doubt because of poor mobile reception in the Lake District where he's been yomping up hills and down valleys. Evidently its 'bloody freezing' and so wet that they had to do the rock climbing indoors. That must have been a very big building. It should help him in his preparations for Silver Duke of Edinburgh Award, and it won't do any harm in his CCF progression - evidently he's best in his year, so maybe he'll earn a new stripe soon.

Hopefully he will be pleased to see us; I'm sure he'll be pleased to see his room which has been painted, and fitted with new wardrobes, shelves, desk and carpet. It looks quite splendid....even if the picture is pretty rubbish.



Doing The Boy's room has meant that we;ve been going through (yet another) cycle of chucking stuff away. It's supposed to be therapeutic, but after all the efforts to create some breathing space in Brighton it's beginning to feel that isn't the case.

At the same time, I've been clearing out the office. We've been running for fifteen years, and almost a quarter of the space was being taken up with old press coverage. It was an impressive pile of stuff, and the product of many hours, days, weeks, months, years of effort. But at the end of the day was it ever going to be looked at again? No it wasn't. So it had to go. And it was hard. I was ruthless...not looking at what was going, simply chucking it out. But it's provoked a thought train which may yet be a bit of a pandora's box. If I'd been an architect, the fruit of my labours would be there for all to see for years and years. A monument to my skill. I'd have left a mark. The same must be true for many others. It is certainly what drove (obsessed) Tony Blair in his final months...his legacy. In the same way, actors and actresses leave a fantastic legacy if they're on film or TV...for ever alive for people to see and watch.

I guess then, that unless I change careers, this blog will be my legacy. I'd better sharpen up my act then!