To be or not to be....

"I think I'm putting lard on the cat's boils that night. He's an arse..." was the response to my text asking a friend if he was going to be watching TV on Thursday night. What I was really asking was whether he'd be watching Alan Davies' Teenage Revolution. AD was at Bancrofts, where The Boy goes following in my footsteps, and has built a career slagging off the place. I don't know why the school lets him back, but they do, so we have to endure his nonsense time and time again. Last night, he spoke in a contemptuous way about it being 'posh'. Well compared to many schools it is, but then if you're brought up in a prosperous middle-class area, living in a house that is worth (today's prices) in the region of £800,000 by a successful chartered accountant father (and mum who wasn't mentioned) you're really quite posh yourself aren't you? His key act of rebellion seemed to be riding his bicycle on his neighbours drive and putting posters on his bedroom wall. Wow. Over the last decade or two Bancroft's has been one of, if not the, the top mixed schools in the country, and manages to churn out people who generally avoid the elitism of many Public Schools. I'm so glad that Lucy Mangan in The Guardian described it as "an extremely tedious hour"

One performance I will miss though is The Boy in Twelfth Night as he has decided not to audition for the Senior Play this year. His reasons are complex and it's a great sadness after he stunned everyone with his genius performance in the Middle School play earlier this year...but he says his evenings are full, so I'm not going to insist...as if I could anyway!

And back on the professional stage Deathwatch with Simon Russell Beale (by reputation our greatest living stage actor) is getting rave reviews, which I don't understand as the play itself is cheesy nonsense and the man's performance is not all that it could be. Just shows that you can't trust the critics...not that I did anyway.

I feel I need to lie down...

Oh it's back to school...Tara's Gallery

Me: "I've forgotten to get Brandon Flowers"
The Boy "Well there's two florists in Loughton"

Hopefully that's not a sign that the last five year's education has been wasted. The Boy is a great lover of music - he has quite a talent, and picked up playing the guitar very easily....I'd like to think that it was because he was exposed to recorded music from the earliest days, and live music from when he was knee high to a grasshoppper. Of course we all have off days...

For this week's gallery I chose this shot. Taken just before he started at his then new school five years ago. He was moving from a very right-on school in Finsbury Park, where poverty hung around every corner and there were notices in the school playground telling parents it was harmful to take their children out of school to Bangladesh for three months, to a posh Public School - interestingly it manages to churn out some very well rounded kids without the elitist attitudes of many of its ilk. Perhaps it's because some parents sacrifice a lot to be able to pay the fees for Bancrofts.

He's standing on the balcony of the flat we lived in on Borough High Street. The poor lad had a very long commute because our plans to move close to the school had taken longer than expected. We finally moved in October, and he was then able to walk in five minutes.

Yesterday, he returned to school after the long break as a Fifth former. It's one of the few year's that has a name that most people would recognise - he's been a Third (first year), Remove (second), Lower Fourth and Upper Fourth. I still don't understand the modern way of doing it...is he Year 11?

Fifth form seems to be the beginning of the end...a year of GCSEs, two of 'A' Levels and then away to University. If I remember rightly, the year is accompanied by feelings of being grown up, but without the wisdom and maturity to be gained in the sixth form.

He's looking forward to it. I'm sure it will be another successful year. I hope.

Bang goes September

So it's barely got going and....:

1. Grandad in Cyprus has landed up in hospital with pneumonia and pleurisy. This is, of course, number one crisis, and will cause sleepless nights in Loughton, whilst in Cyprus Grandma in Cyprus runs around in ever decreasing circles and wears herself out. Naturally we have absolute faith that this will work out fine.

2. The Cat's Mum's birthday. Friday night we all headed out after I made some Vodka Martinis. We came home some hours later after one of our number disgraced herself in the taxi. Not seen behaviour like that for 20 years.

3. The Cat managed to break the hubble bubble pipe. I'm pleased, the Cat's Mum's pleased as it will save any future discussions

4. Friday afternoon and the office above decided to redo their plumbing. I don't think the idea was to send all their waste water through the ceiling. But it may have been.

5. I can't find any of the photos I've taken on the new phone...they're supposed to be on the computer somewhere, but they are elusive, so that'll mean no photo post this month

6. The Boy is having a clear out of clothes too small to wear. Without even rummaging through the bag, I can see plenty of things that are still too big for him

7. Potential new client has moved meeting to the time when I'm supposed to be getting food for The Cat's Mum's birthday meal tonight. I can't refuse. I will suffer later

8. The new Simon Russell Beale play (Deathwatch) is erm risible...and one of our group was so scared in one part, she screamed loud enough to bring the roof down. The whole theatre turned and looked. I slunk down

9. I still haven't caught up with all the blogs I like to read, so I shall end up getting further and further behind...

10. I'm supposed to be organising the OB's dinner...but the OB's haven't yet got the website working so that people can book tickets. It's happening 15th October. Or not.

11. School starts tomorrow. I wonder which bits of uniform need replacing?

Technology defeats us all...

I was looking back over the blog from year or so ago, and discovered that when I switched from the Blogger comment system to Disqus, all the previous comments disappeared. I'm rather sad about that, especially as I hadn't meant to move to Disqus...hey ho as Henry Ford never said, "History is bunk".

I've also been given a new HTC phone by T-Mobile because my Nokia was so awful. In fact my relationship with The Cat's Mum may well come to an end now because we'll have nothing to talk about. The thing about the new phone is that it has an app for social media, and what I now find is that when I post on Facebook, that post also comes up on my RTFM Twitter feed. So magically, the real me is revealed to the hidden me. I'm not sure that's good, but anyway, keeping secrets was never a strong point. I may yet have to reveal my real name.

Whilst we were away in Icyland, GCSE results were published. The Cat and The Boy were awaiting results which contribute to their final grade for three subjects. They were cool as cucumber about it. And naturally I appeared to be. As we arrived back, The Cat ripped open her results to get a very impressive 2 A*s and an A. The Boy's results were back in the old home...his initial comment that he could wait, changed and he nearly bit my hand off when I offered to drive him over there to get them. 15 minutes later he had his results. 3A*s including two which were 100%. I'm pleased. The Cat's Mum's pleased and The Cat and The Boy are both off to a flying start as they begin their GCSE year on Tuesday....

First Friday Photos

I'm onto my third month now....and I've a varied selection today...it seems to have been a busy month again


Icelandic church in the evening rain


Love this sculpture


More northern scenery...how fab are the ice blocks on that black sand?


It's all about the colour


Geese...or swans?


Cafe Life


Pretty church in Husvik


Rescue hut in the mountains


Give us a drink!


NOT Banksy...even in the most desolate areas



I designed this breakfast bar...


The flower faded to the same colour as the wall...


I love the reflections of the old building in the new


Shutters in Bermondsey St


More Bermondsey St

One day in August - Tara's Gallery

Tara chose to make August 29th her 'one day' to take a picture. That was the last day of our holiday - see here. The previous day had been bright and sunny, but Sunday was cold wet and damp in Reykjavik...a suitable way to finish a holiday. I took this photo as we waited for the coach to take us across the lava fields, past the Blue Lagoon to Keflavik airport. We'd had a brilliant, but exhausting week...and it probably shows...



But as we headed towards Britain, the flight forty minutes ahead of schedule, the clouds cleared enabling us to see the islands off the coast of Scotland...most seemed to have just one or two buildings on them...what a different life to the one we lead in London - and how much must they appreciate the sun when it comes.

Iceland

Not many people seem to know the size of Iceland. When The Boy and I went there a decade ago, I'd guessed it at around about the same area as the Isle of Wight..and many of our current friends seem to think that's about right. In fact it's just slightly smaller than England. We spent three days driving east from Reykjavik at about 200 miles a day.

Some things we didn't see:

THAT volcano...well we sort of did, but it wasn't smoking so it was difficult to work out which peak it was. The ash was every where though.

Puffins...they took flight a week before we arrived, much to our disappointment. We were reassured the two things were not related.

Wales. I mean Whales...we'd done this the last time we went, and everyone on the boat spent the whole time being or trying to throw up. The Cat and The Cat's Mum refused point blank. They were right, and we shall wait for one to swim up the Thames again.

Northern Lights. I guess some one hadn't paid the electricity bill.

Things we did see:

Big skies. Yes, the there were big skies...difficult to explain, but the sky seemed bigger...perhaps it was the wide open spaces...




Glaciers. Yep all over the place...and one of our number managed to mistake one for the sea, even though it had a curve on top...I shan't mention who that was, but it wasn't me or the teenagers




Glacial lake...we got to go on an amphibious truck to see icebergs on the lake...spectacular





Black sand...even more beautiful when decorated with little icebergs glistening in the sun






Bouncy land...not sure we were supposed to be bouncing on it...but an amazing landscape which we tripped over...



Seriously amazing waterfalls...and two daft Norwegians who thought it a good idea to shower underneath one of them




Land so desolate that you can understand why they used it to train for the first moon landings




A Penis Museum. Yep. Ummm.



We hated:

Shark meat...it must have been drowned in ammonia we think

There's an epidemic amongst the horse population, so we didn't get a ride

Icelandic maps...no wonder the Vikings came to Britain, they were probably just following an Icelandic map, and ended up several hundred miles adrift...our guide book maps sometimes had north at the top, sometimes south, sometimes east and sometimes west. We had a 25% chance of getting it right...

We loved:

The warm, friendly, welcoming nature of the Icelanders...everywhere we went. And they have a great sense of humour too - when I said I felt guilty about claiming back the tax on some purchase, the woman said, not to worry...it was our money anyway...

The coffee...not sure why, but they make a great cup of coffee

The Grey Cat cafe...great for breakfast

Hotel 101...so trendy it hurts...

The fact that the language means that a place name will be spelled one way on the map, another in the guide book, and yet another when you get there

The sheer beauty of the place...mostly awe-inspiring, never dull, always unexpected...

We loved our week. The Boy and I are glad to have gone back, The Cat and The Cat's Mum delighted to have gone somewhere they would never have otherwise made the journey to...and so the sun set on our holiday:

Lost in Iceland

...is a big brand over here. We didn't get lost on our long trek...and have spent the last day or so luxuriating in the Hotel 101 in Reykyavik...back tomorrow...

Kerry Katona's favourite place

So Sunday is Iceland day...we're going to reclaim our investments and take back some of the fish they've half-inched, meanwhile reminding them that once upon a time the island was completely forested, but they cut down all the trees and single-handedly created global warming.

Try as I might I've not been able to find out whether their volcano is still smoking, or whether it's given up for an extended Lent. And are the Northern Lights still switched on after some unusual sun activity? No one's telling us. We've plotted our route on Google maps...but what we don't know is how long it takes to drive from point A to point B to point C to point D to point E to point F to point G..so we'll take marmite sandwhiches just in case...we don't want any of that dodgy smoked shark they proffer.

In the office I have handed over all the things I should have done this week instead of flouncing off to Brighton for a couple of days And anything I've forgotten to pass over will doubtless crawl out of the woodwork and create havoc which had better be sorted by the time I'm back or else.

The Boy has laid out all his clothes on the floor ready for packing. Come to think of it, they're always laid out on the floor. The Cat and The Cat's Mum are still sunning themselves in Italy so they'll have a mountain of washing up to do when they arrive back tomorrow.

I'd like to try and post some pics of our Northern Adventure whilst I'm away, but am afeared that data charges will mean I'll need to take out yet another mortgage...and to be honest I have more than enough of those already....

A question of freedom of speech

Towards the end of last year, I posted a blog entry which merely repeated some correspondence that I'd had with a former tenant. I'd been asked by the council for his details as they felt he owed them council tax, and I provided those details. For that I was subjected to a torrent of abuse and threats. I wrote about it as it was one of those episodes in life that are memorable and even terrifying and I'd been shocked by how someone could behave.

I'd forgotten about it until today, when I received two emails from him demanding I remove the post and all traces of it. It goes against the grain...after all I was doing no more than report something that had happened. It was entirely factual. I don't think I did anymore than a newspaper, or the BBC could do. But as a gesture, I've edited it to remove the name and contact details. I've no idea whether this is sufficient.

But the point is, this is re-writing history, changing a report of something that actually happened. That's what Orwell wrote about, that's what totalitarian regimes do. This person doesn't want the world to know what he's really like. That seems dangerous to me.

Tara's gallery - a memory

So Tara set a tricky one this week...a memory. Of course, all photos are a memory, so choosing just one has been the challenge. I decided to pick this one though...



...everything in it is just a memory.

This was our 'wedding photo' taken in a photobooth in Victoria Station after we'd traveled up from Brighton. We'd married in Hove Town Hall just 99 days after first meeting - our two witnesses, Uncle Bazzer and Nial had been late and we thought we'd have to borrow a couple of witnesses from the next wedding...but they did just get there. We'd breakfasted at The Grand on the seafront having been picked up in a white taxi. On the train, the ticket inspector went on the tannoy to announce to everyone and wish us luck...and then we piled off, a little the worse for wear after lots of champagne. It was a brilliant day...of course it was wedding days are.

Uncle Bazzer had many claims to fame - he was chosen to join East 17, or was it Boyzone...my memory fades...but he decided against it...it was his Beatles moment. And he once had to put sellotape on Kylie Minogues nipples during a video shoot because they stuck out too far. He was the most unreliable person I've ever known, completely child like. We've lost touch now, so he's just a memory.

Nial was more serious and very bright. He became increasingly unable to travel, and years down the road he didn't travel to The Boy's Mum's funeral. That was a real shame. We don't see him anymore.

We stayed married for just five years and five days. So the marriage is just a memory...a good one - it was quite a rollercoaster, but eventually came off the rails.

The Boys Mum died suddenly from an aneurysm whilst on business in Ireland a few years later. Changing The Boys destiny, changing my life in very positive ways.

So this picture is full of good, happy memories...and from it many things have flowed.

Whilst The Cat's away.....

Boys will be boys, and we feel it is incumbent on us to do boy things:

1. All the loo seats are being left up
2. The beds are unmade
3. Washing up...it's too much effort to load the dishwasher isn't it, really?
4. Non-stop Top Gear and Gadget Show on the TV
5. Dinner - ready meals from the garage
6. Breakfast - ready meals from the garage
7. Lunch - Ginsters Cornish Pasty from the garage for variety
8. All meals - eaten in front of the TV
9. Dirty clothes - left on the floor by the bed
10. Lights left on in every room
11. Snacks...empty crisp packets and sweet wrappers left across the floor of the sitting room
12. The top has been left off the toothpaste...which has been squeezed in the middle
13. Wet towels left on the bed
14. Music turned up loud so we can hear it...even when we're upstairs
15. We've borrowed a dog which sleeps on the sofa after a long walk in the muddy forest
16. We've stopped worrying about whether anyone is going to check the 'history' on our web browsers
17. Scatter cushions have been, well, scattered...because we don't know what they're for
18. The beer stock is declining rapidly
19. As is the wine and whisky stock
20. I've had to draw the line at The Boy bringing the motorbike into the living room to clean it...but only because we can't get it up the steps...

If you've any ideas of how we can maintain our testosterone levels....just let me know.....

Happy Christmas!

'tis the season to be jolly...jingle bells, jingle bells, Good King Wenceslas, Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer, I wish it could be Christmas everyday, etc,etc.

The Boy and I went out for dinner last night...and, lucky us, look what was on our table...we spent hours trying to decide what we wanted:



Tomorrow, I'll be writing about Easter Eggs.

In the meantime, if you want to know how we spent our Saturday look here

And here is the autograph...I can't tell you how chuffed I am with that...the band is just phenomenal, and were on top form. I'm not sure if I'm too old to be asking for autographs...but hey, who cares? Turin Brakes is the first band I took The Boy to - we saw them at Somerset House when he was about waist height , and he's never looked back. It's no wonder he plays the guitar

You can live forever on Facebook

Some of us are destined to live to a ripe old age, where as others are good.

The Boys Mum was the sort of person that burned the candle at both ends ...and in the middle too. So in 42 years managed to cram in more than most people twice her age.

When I was at school, in the fourth year a 'new boy' joined. We got on quite well, but thirty years down the road the details are hazy. I do remember we sat next to each other in geography...I think we were quite competitive on that subject.

Inevitably, once we left school we lost touch and once upon a time that would have been it. Friendships come and go, and like most men we were quite careless with ours. I dropped out of contact with just about all my school friends until about ten years ago. Friendsreunited did what it said on the tin...and some of us from the boarding house met up again. It was a strange experience sitting round a table with a bunch of middle-aged men who had little in common anymore. As usual our initial meetings were slightly awkward as some had been remarkably successful, others had followed a path of career mediocrity. But after a while old friendships were properly renewed, and we've met regularly since.

With other friends, their paths had taken them away to foreign places. Facebook provided a way to renew acquaintances even though this would never be quite the same as a chat over a beer. Ian was one such friend, and as with many Facebook friends, we kept vaguely in touch. Earlier this year, the dreaded word 'chemotherapy' was mentioned and then little more, apart from a few Farmville postings.

In early August, Ian's brother posted a note to say that Ian was no 'longer with us' but that his Facebook page would stay as a tribute to "a wonderful person, father, husband, son and brother".

It's a strange and difficult concept for me to grasp that someone of my age dies, but such are the twists and turns of fate. And as another friend said, it makes you appreciate your own good health.

I didn't know too much about Ian's life...but I hope he managed to live it to the full in experience if not in years.