Flash bang wallop what a picture!

Of course it's all your fault. Friday was the first Friday of the month, and I forgot to post my round up of pics. I can't believe you didn't remind me.

Photos are very much front of mind at the moment.

The Cat's Mother has removed all the normal photos and ornaments to make way for the Christmas decorations for the festive season. She carefully put them downstairs in the basement room...its got a Moroccan theme to it, and is I guess the room favoured for parties. When we went to bed last night The Cat mentioned to her mum that she thought she could hear an alarm, and later I mentioned I thought I could too. We were both reassured that we were hearing things.

All hell broke loose this morning...there was an alarm going - it was the flood alarm in the basement - as it turned out, a drain had blocked meaning that the damp that is constantly pumped out was flooding back in. Straight into the the box of photographs. Most of the frames are damaged beyond repair...the photos themselves are mostly drying out and we'll see how many can be saved...some definitely cannot be as the ink has run, some may be, some are just irreplaceable. That's quite heartbreaking...it's amazing just how valuable pictures are...absolute treasures. Which bring me round to other treasured pictures.

I whinged to Grandma in Cyprus that I don't have any photos from THE PAST...and like the good mother she is, she has sent me a pile. These are the ones I was going to put up on Friday...I guess the snow addled my brain. Anyway, here some of them are. I find old pictures absolutely fascinating, and in particular seeing what people used to look like in days gone by I've tasked Grandma in Cyprus with filling in the blanks where I don't know or can't remember the people.

PS - Grandma in Cyprus has ridden to the rescue so all the blanks filled in!

I hope the interweb will keep them safe and secure for ever...


This may be a Freemason's do - Grandma in Cyprus with her mum and Dad and my Dad


Her wedding Day


Same day


Oh my! Grandma in Cyprus used to race cars on a dirt track


She's still smiling as she crashes (again)


Perhaps from Grandma's time working at the zoo


My brother's first wedding


Did she beat him with the golf club?


Grandma in Cyprus as bridesmaid...to the girl she lived with during the war - she was evacuated there


I never knew these two - Auntie Lilly and Uncle Tom


Grandma in Cyprus' wedding day..


This picture is 72 years old! From the left: my grandfather holding a puppy, Uncle Stan, my Grandmother, Uncle Jack, Uncle Sam, Auntie Lilly Uncle Tom...and Dick, the cousin (where's Harry?!). Next row: Auntie Grace, David, Kathleen, Mr Completely Unknown!, Auntie Kate..cousin Dorothy's Mum. Bottom row: Betty (Dorothy's sister), Grandma in Cyprus, Marjorie


Ha ha! I didn't know this was Grandma in Cyprus


Grandma in Cyprus' childhood dog


Cutting the cake


That's me on the left...three generations together


Well I know that's Grandma in Cyprus on the right, and this is the same Yorkshie wedding


Wedding pic


Grandad in Cyprus used to have a band...and very good it was too!


I have a step sister...her wedding day


Blimey I was blonde!


21st birthday for Grandma in Cyprus


On the far right are my Grandmother and Grandfather, and on the left, looking very grand in a Victorian kind of way my Great Grandfather and Mother


I guessed a few of these before Grandma helped me - from the left: Uncle Charles and his wife Margaret, my Grandfather and grandmother, David, Auntie Grace, Cherry and Jack (who's still going strong!); next row: Uncle Tom, Autnie Lilly, Grandma in Cyprus, my Great Grandmother and Uncle Sam (married to Auntie Grace); front row: Jackie, Muriel, Alan, Maori and finally Derek


I see four monkeys...

The brothers


...a little bit older...


I got my degree...Economic and Political Development from the University of Exeter. I was top of the class!

X-factor

You'll have to read a good way down until you get to the point of this posting...sorry, but I'm bored at work when I should be working hard.

I really loved this post by Mr London Street - it struck a chord and made me smile

I can't say I've ever watched the programme...a childhood of Opportunity Knocks was enough to put me off that sort of TV for ever, although I did read that one of the contestants has an 81 year old grandmother who is a porn star and prostitute. Which made me realise, just what a peculiar world it is. Hughie Green must be spinning in his grave.

Anyway, on the subject of the 2018 World Cup, I was totally against it coming to England. I was and am a great advocate of the London Olympics so it's not that I'm anti great sporting events on these shores, but for a long time I've been very vocal about what a complete waste of space the people who run the game are. The final presentation may have been very slick and professional, but there were all sorts of shenanigans going on in the months before and I realised that these people shouldn't be put in charge of making a cup of tea. I don't think the media coverage was any more damaging than the bid leaders own antics. Not that I think the world's global football organisations are any better. I'd like to see wholesale reform of the English soccer system...and losing the bid is our best hope, which might be further encouraged if one of the leading Premiership teams was to bite the dust too...I'm not fussed which one.

Not that I claim to know anything about football at all.

Anyway, back to the X in the title. Last night was the opening night of the school senior play. The Boy had decided not to participate this year, but The Cat has a starring part in Shakespeare's Twelfth Night. The parents of the cast were invited to drinks with the Headmistress at her house. Of course, I'm not a parent, but The Cat's Mother felt that I should come along - all be it that my name wasn't actually on the invite (she did check with the head's PA first). I was delighted. Naturally a second invite had been sent to The Other Parent.

Despite the snow, we arrived bang on time...and were the first people there. A warming glass of red got us going, before another teacher arrived five minutes later. The conversation flowed pretty freely and after another five minutes the door bell went. Yep it was The Other Parent. He was the sixth person in the room. He'd not met me before. He and The Cat's Mother don't speak. It was a small group. Even when three more people arrived it was a small group. And remained a small group for an hour until the start of the play. I'd say the conversation was a little stilted. Just a little. It probably didn't help when the head asked whether The Boy and The Cat had been walking to school in this weather, and I said 'No, it's a long way from Loughton' 'But I thought you lived in Buckhurst Hill' she said. 'No, Loughton is where we live with The Cat's Mother' I explained.

So this'll be the house that The Other Parent worked long and hard to pay for.

Modern families. They're an odd thing aren't they?

Fortunately, The Cat shone on stage.

Pinch and a punch

I may have tempted fate by mentioning that I was heading to the frozen north yesterday. I got there pretty easily, but the return was challenging - the train left Stockport smartly enough and I settled down to read a book...erm I mean use the time usefully by writing a press release or two. We reached Stoke on Trent quickly and then stopped. For about an hour - a broken down train was blocking the way. We then headed back up to the frozen north, to Crewe in fact. Slowly. Very slowly indeed. Once there we stopped before heading back south on a different line. I'd like to say which one, but it was dark by then, and I was engrossed in the next level of Angry Birds - any hints on how to do level 2 of part 3 would be much appreciated.... we arrived 2 hours late. I thought I was entitled to a refund, but Virgin tell me they are only required to provide me with rail vouchers. As I use the train, at best once a year, this is less than useless and suggests that the rail industry has a long way to go before reaching the standards of customer service expected elsewhere.

I've been designated driver for taking the kids to school this week...at last you can see a value in 4x4s that spend most of their time sitting in the drives next to the Porsches in the WAGs triangle. The main roads are all fine, but the side roads are challenging...and we live up a steep hill which makes for great entertainment as we all slide down it to the bottom...where there's a busy main road.

Back home Christmas has started. The decorations have started going up. The normal mugs and tea towels have been put in a cupboard and replaced with ones with a festive theme. The Cat's Mother knows how to do Christmas in style...and it's going to make December a particularly special time. Especially with all that beautiful snow laying all around. Gifts are something The Cat's Mother does exceptionally well.

The Boy has an advent calendar, which has some fabulous chocolates:



The Cat got a splendid Advent scene:



I've done very well, getting a beach hut themed advent calendar, and this very splendid bottle of cognac.



Each star marks a day, so I guess you're supposed to drink down one mark per day. The thing is, '1' starts just below the shoulder of the bottle, so first sip is an enormous glug. That should warm the cockles of my heart.

I had no idea that gifts would be coming, so now have to live with the guilt of not getting anything for her. Suggestions on a postcard please. But quickly if you can.

There's no such thing as a free lunch...

...unless you find £5 on the way to the supermarket as I did today. I did look to see if anyone was around looking bereft, but, no, there was no one. I have to say that little pieces of fortune like that make me feel good. Although I do feel sorry for the person that lost it.

It even makes up for yesterday, when there was a final payout from a client that had gone into liquidation last year. They had promised us it was a cashflow issue and we'd get every penny. In the end we got just 7p in the Pound. On a debt of several thousand Pounds. That didn't feel good at all.

Snow finally arrived in the south today...and caused the inevitable chaos. The Boy came bounding into the bedroom as excited now as he's always been. What a truly lovely way to start the day. There was a 5 or six mile traffic jam when I took The Boy, The Cat, The Muffin and The Mumble to school. As I have a big Jeep, it was my duty really. The traffic was so bad that in the end they had to walk the last couple of hundred yards. I'm sure the cold walk did them good.

I can never find anything bad to say about snow...I absolutely love it. It makes even the dullest place beautiful. I hope we get tons more and we all get given a holiday from now until after Christmas.

Tomorrow I travel by train to Stockport...I hear that's in the frozen North so I may be gone for some time.

To the victor, the spoils...

I mentioned a little while ago that The Cat's Mother, I and a couple of friends went out on a secret evening...The Secret Cinema...but we were sworn to secrecy. Now all can be revealed...we went to see One Flew Over The Cuckoos Nest in an old NHS Hospital that had been recreated as an asylum for the showing...in fact it went on for 10 nights and in total 6000 people came along. We all met at Ladbroke Grove tube in our dressing gowns, and then were led a long and winding walk to the asylum. The place was filled with actors who played parts from the film...and we were all given various types of therapy. The more you got into it, the better the experience...we all had an absolute ball...although The Cat's Mother did rail against the way we were treated as inmates...I think she needed electric shock therapy. Here are some event photos on flickr.


By contrast we went to see Harry Potter on Saturday which was leaden and dull... a badly missed opportunity to develop the characters...although the harsh amongst us have suggested that the actors are not up to it. And it was very long. I suspect you can miss this one, and still see the climax in 'Part 2' without feeling you've missed a thing.

Friday night was quiz night...140 of us raising money for the NSPCC...The Cat's Mother is treasurer of the local branch. It shows how life has changed as it's not the sort of thing I'd have done a year ago...but plus ca change...or something. My contribution, apart from answering a few questions correctly, was to have The Cat's Mother donate a case of my wine on my behalf as the prize. Our table included three teachers from The Boy's school. So it was a good job we won handsomely. And my reward? The case of wine was shared amongst our table, and I ended up with one of my own bottles. That felt fine.

Now onwards and upwards to fight the snow that has been threatening, but failing, to deliver me a bonus day away from the office.

Revolting

I'm a lucky boy...last night as I swung out of the yard where our office is, the rear tyre on the scooter blew out. I heard it go 'pop' and it was flat as a pancake in a second. But I managed to stay upright, and was within pushing distance to the local dealer who could fix it all before I set off for home. How good is that? If it happened when I was on the busy A12 during the rush hour as I zip along at 50mph, the story may have been different. Plus I get the bonus of thinking my riding skills are better than I though because I didn't topple over.

In principle I think it's a waste of time and brain power to spend time on regrets. After all what has happened has happened, and time is better spent on the present or the future. However, I've often been heard to say that if I had one criticism of my time at University it was that Exeter was 'a nice middle-class, home counties sort of place' and I don't believe the word 'radical' existed in any students' dictionaries. Now I'd say that's a bit of a shame because by the time you reach University you are well-enough educated to know a fair few things, but not part of the great down-trodden, so the opportunity and potential to rage against the machine is all there.

Students have taken to the streets to protest against the increase in University fees, and there's been a fair amount of unrest, and even a little violence. But they don't have my support. Not because I think fees should rise, but because they are too narrow-minded and limited in their ambition. University fees are but one tiny part of what is wrong with the world's sixth largest economy, and perhaps the world's third or fourth most developed society. And I can't help but feel that the girl who stood there trying to stop them from rolling the police van over on its side because 'someone might get hurt' is missing the point. It is the students who have the least to lose, they should be the free-thinkers...the people who could and should be radicalising society and pressing for change....for revolution on the streets.

Should I, a reasonably respectable middle-class father be saying it's time for revolution? Well yes I think I should. Many people have been shafted by the City over the last couple of years...I see more than amply qualified graduates on the dole, I see people who have saved for their retirement lose it all, I see previously successful people brought to their knees, whilst the City goes on oblivious to the mess it has created. Jeremy Paxman summed it up well this week when he said that it is a curiosity of twenty-first century capitalism that when the Banks get into trouble it becomes the State's problem. Pity the Irish...and the Portuguese to come. Our politicians are no better. Professional managers with no vision and no statesmanship they have been singularly ineffective...firstly allowing us to get into this mess, and secondly for allowing the financiers to get away with it. Perhaps it's because we have a political system that is inept and works against change...the X-Factor mentality permeates the entire voting public.

So we should all be out on the streets, demanding change. Real change. But of course we won't be...it's a bit chilly out there. We've all got our colour TVs, our cars, our semis in suburbia. We are comfortable, if a little bit annoyed. And if we make too much of a fuss, we could lose it all. After all, it's difficult to know the consequences of revolution. But we need it. No more middle-ground, too polite, grey-shade politics. If we don't get change now we never will. They system is flawed...it needs to be changed. For all our sakes...and for our children.

So what do you think about this?

Its a picture created by the young artist Mark Sinckler using a photo from the 7/7 bombings. And it's caused upset in the tabloid media.

I think it has a rare beauty...and it's got me thinking about the people who were involved.

But then none of my family or friends were caught up in the events of the day.

Black and white

For this week's gallery, Tara left us to interpret the theme of black and white. I've chosen this particular photo. It hangs on the wall of our dining room, and was taken in The Natural History Museum when The Boy was nine. Some people can see two faces in the picture...it can be quite disconcerting...but I think it's very benign...or maybe sad...

Oh what a lovely war!

The Boy and The Cat were whisked away by the school on a trip to the 1st World War battlefields for the weekend. The Boy found a grave with the family name on...Bradstock. And then at another site, our surname. Of course it's always good to find these possible historic connections, until you start to think it through and realise that these were little more than boys who gave their lives in the terrible slaughter of the Great War. The school lost 160 former pupils aged between 18 and 24...and given that at the time it was a school of no more than 300, that is a remarkable and heart-rending statistic. It seems to have hit all the participants very hard. And if it teaches them a lesson for the future, then that is a good thing.

Back in the present day, a small battle...

Last week I was sent a council tax demand by Hackney Council. For a flat which had once upon a time been owned by The Boy's mother. For most of our marriage I didn't even know about it. Sometime after we divorced it was sold...about ten years ago. And after her death it transpired that she co-owned it with someone I'd never heard of. When I rang the council to explain, the only response I got was that they had sent the bill because I hadn't told them it had been sold. I tried to explain again. In words of one syllable. I got the same response. I tried to ask what had they been doing for the last ten years. I got the same response. So I explained in traditional English exactly what I thought about them. And put the phone down. I so hope they pursue this one through the courts.

I got another mailing from Hackney Council today. In fact it is for a property I do own. In the envelope was a 30 page colour brochure explaining what they spend the Council Tax on; a six page leaflet explaining what the Greater London Authority spends its money on; a 20 page council tax paying in booklet. And the bill. If you click on the image, and have good eye site, you can see the bill was for exactly £0.00. You may consider this a waste. I do. If you look even more closely right at the bottom it shows the council 'efficiency savings'. I couldn't possibly comment

X-rated beauty

Beauty means different things to different people. I was walking around Bermondsey this week...it really is a fantastic, unknown part of London, and took the opportunity of snapping a few things that caught my eye:











Of course, beauty is more than skin deep as the people who created these pictures were trying to convey ...they're for a calendar, and rather different to the Pirelli calendar I used to get sent when I worked in the car industry:















*Pin-up Calendar 2010 was done by BUTTER, the advertising agency for for Eizo in Germany - their copyright acknowledged. Who says the Germans don't have a sense of humour?

Taking her up the aisle....

We're not really Royalists The Boy and I. In fact I'm of the 'chop their heads off' persuasion....I'm not quite sure of The Boy's real views on the matter, but he is at least irreverent.

The Girls on the other hand are loyal subjects...and certainly love a good wedding.

So you can imagine, the amount of time and space being given over to the Royal wedding is driving me to distraction. On the day of the announcement, the BBC, as it always does, went off the deep end with its coverage. All day there was 'live coverage' filling the airwaves. Live coverage of what? They got engaged in October, they're not getting married until the spring at the earliest. They've been dating for eight years. There was nothing to talk about. Really absolutely nothing And more importantly, the days when we are all were passionate royalists are long gone. William's mother and father are probably to blame for that. Yet the BBC still insists on devoting ridiculous amounts of resources to this.

I'm not happy.

The morning after, The Times was giving away a souvenir poster, which The Boy put up...and then felt the need to decorate...



The Girls are not happy.

I am mercenary enough though to look forward to the inevitable public holiday, this will bring...

Whilst I'm on the subject of the media, I rather think they've got it all wrong with
Aung San Suu Kyi too. I'm delighted that she's been released...no one should be confined to home for a decade or more. There is, after all only so much tidyng up you can do. But in celebrating her release I suspect the world's media and our glorious leaders are being remarkably naive in suggesting that this is a step forward for Burma. She's been released by the military on their terms and their timing - days after an election which they engineered. They were the first elections for twenty years and it'll probably be another two decades before we see more elections there again. Her party remains banned. She is politically impotent, and if she says too much will doubtless be locked up for sedition. This is a real PR victory for the military.

And as these things always come in threes...I can't help but think that the Irish situation is yet another victory for the bankers...a state forced to take loans from the EU because the market says it should and not necessarily because they actually need to. In another age, it would be time for revolution...and I know who I'd be putting up against the wall first!

I may have got out of bed the wrong side this morning....

Before and after

...oh there is such a range of things that I thought of for this week's challenge...but I chose this image as the before



It was a beautifully designed contemporary clock which sat in the window in Brighton, casting a wonderful blue glow when the sun shone through the 12" glass disc. The Boy and I loved it.

We came home one Friday night having been away for a week to discover that some days previous a seagull..presumably a young one...had fallen down the chimney and into the flat. Heaven only knows what terrors went through its tiny little bird brain in the days and nights that it spent there. But this was the 'after':






I managed to catch it, by throwing a towel over it and carrying it down stairs. When I put it down on the grass outside, it hesitated for a moment before lifting off. I wish I'd got its address to send the 'bill' to...or perhaps I should have put it in front of a beak...

The clock never recovered.

It's just not fair...

One of The Boy's friends has been grounded for 2 weeks and banned from alcohol for 4. He's fifteen. It doesn't seem a very harsh punishment for getting so drunk at Saturday's party that he spent the evening with his head down the great white phone to God, and then proceeded to heave ho in his Dad's Jaguar.

I gather he thinks "IT'S SOOOOOO UNFAIR!"

The Cat has homework every night, and it takes her from arrival home time until head on the pillow time to do it all. In between stopping for supper, chatting to a few friends on Facebook, listening to a few songs on iTunes, etc, etc, etc.

"IT'S SOOOOOOO UNFAIR!"

The Boy, on the other hand never has any homework to do at home, so spends the evening stealing The Cat's computer, watching TV, playing on X-Box, listening to iTunes, chatting with friends on Facebook, reading, watching YouTube, making a mess in every possible room. It's a mystery how and when he manages to get his homework done, but done it is. So I whooped with delight when he announced yesterday that he had an English essay to do last night.

That was the wrong thing to do.

How unreasonable of the teacher to set it. How ridiculous. Doesn't she realise he has a German test this week. That's a GCSE thing. That is more important. He needs to focus.

"IT'S SOOOOOOO UNFAIR!"

I offered no sympathy...the teacher says they need to understand the pressures of juggling deadlines. I understand her logic.

Later he suggested that he explains to the teacher he does the outline, and a bit more, and will complete it after the test...what do I think? I'm sympathetic, not really knowing what the teacher might say, what are the rules and suggest he discusses it with her. But then I discover the essay was set last week...he had all weekend to do it. A weekend that was spent doing sweet FA. Apart from partying.

Sympathy goes out the window.

I'm in trouble again. "IT'S SOOOOOOO UNFAIR!"

J(o)e le taxi

The Cat's Mother skived off parental duties for the weekend by absconding for a couple of days away with the girls...

It's been a busy weekend:

Friday:

I picked up The Cat from school, with her friend and brought them home to get changed for a party
I picked The Cat and The Boy up from the party at Midnight

Saturday:

I drove The Cat and The Boy to a friend's party at 7.00
I picked The Cat and The Boy up from the party at 11.00

Sunday

I drove The Boy to the Remembrance Day parade at 8.45
I picked The Boy up from the parade at 11.20
I drove The Cat to school for a play rehearsal at 12.45
I picked the Cat up from school at 2.30
I drove The Cat to babysit for friends at 5.00

I know it's every parent's chore and I'm so glad I'm fully into the swing of things...