That was the Christmas that was....

It was the best of times it was the worst of times.

With 24 people for lunch on Christmas Day and 19 of us in the Brighton flat for New Years Eve celebration we certainly very busy for the festive season. We went to see The Woman in Black on the 22nd, and Borough Market, and Cinderella at the Theatre Royal in Brighton. Santa must have thought we'd been very good indeed, as the pile of presents was vast and enormous. And we had fabulous fireworks on the beach in Brighton. With snow all around, it was the perfect Christmas.



But on the 22nd I came down with something that kept me practically flat on my back for the next 9 days. So it all went on around me with only hazy memories as I appeared like Banquo's ghost for a couple of hours a day. Seasonal flu is not to be recommended.

It's a shame, as it's the one time of year when it is possible to totally relax and enjoy, and I feel I missed out. On the other hand, I guess it won't be quite so hard to return to work.

I like to think I began to feel better with the appearance of the Angel of the Onion as I made chili for our New Year's Eve guests

Anyone for tea?

It probably shouldn't have taken all Friday.

I may have exaggerated by using the word 'inhumane'

I shouldn't have needed to e-mail the Operations Director

I certainly shouldn't have had to e-mail the Chief Executive

I probably shouldn't have used the old, 'I'm in PR' threat

I guess I ought not have rung the local newspaper

But I did

And I got fourteen fan heaters for the flat

And a tea urn. For hot water.

We may not be able to bathe, but we'll be able to wash.

And have tea. So let me know if you want to pop round for a cuppa courtesy of of Southern Gas Networks

And this is what Hadriana went through

Just passing through

At last we got to go to a Christmas celebration...it felt a bit of a relief, and given the weather quite a surprise. My only observation on the event was that the hostess' comment about her house is that it feels that they are 'Just passing through', and one of the guests, a judge, was heard to say ,"When you wake up in a place like this you must feel that life has been kind to you." Just one of the living rooms was bigger than the entire cottage in Buckhurst Hill. The National Trust would probably charge you to get in. I can't help but be amused and fascinated by it. Of course I wouldn't say no, given the chance. But is it something I aspire to? No. But I remain totally fascinated. It doesn't matter how successful you are, there is always someone more so. And conversely, no matter how badly off, there is always someone suffering more.

Anyway, the snow brought us real fun...once The Cat's Mother had her arm, slightly, twisted to accompany us out and about. The Boy was desperate to do this, and has expeneded many breaths persuading me to lend him my old skis.

The Demon Barber(ina)

Another day and another cancellation...we were due to have some 18 people for dinner on Saturday, but not surprisingly the weather put paid to that. I think this year will be remembered as the Christmas that nearly was...!

I've heard it said that some fathers buy their son a tart when it's coming of age time. I've never thought it a good idea. I don't want to think about that sort of thing.
I have demanded though that when he's of drinking age I want him to take me to the pub and buy me a pint. Just one pint, and I'll be a very happy man.

One defining moment for the male is shaving...boys always want to start long before they need to, only to discover that it's a tedious task they'll have to do for the rest of their natural. But having to shave is a sign of manhood.

This week we had a fabulous shared 'manly' experience...a shave at that fine establishment, Geo F Trumper in Mayfair, courtesy of The Cat's Mum. All done with cut throat razors, it was a glorious experience. The Boy was done by a barberina, and seemed to lap it up. And why not?!






I too enjoyed my hot towels and shave

That's just wrong!

The good news from Brighton is that it's now estimated that the work may take 8 weeks! But they may fit a mini hot-water boiler to keep us going in the meantime...

Over the last couple of years my previously svelte figure has developed...and I now have a gentle bulge in the stomach region. This year it's got a little rounder as I've not been cycling as much as I used to, as much as I like, as much as I should. A few months ago it was named 'The Pod'.

Last night we squashed on to the over-full tube following our trip to see 'Wicked'. I stood next to The Cat.

The Cat (16, female)"I can feel your pod"
The Boy (15, male) "That's not his pod"

Looks of horror around us....apart from one man who giggled.

Nota Bene "I'm sorry, we're a very dysfunctional family"

I may have failed as a father. Badly.

Do you smell something?

If you've been reading for a while you'll know that we've devoted a LOT of time and energy to sorting out the flat in Brighton. It's been a labour of love. And hate.

I bought the place nigh on twenty years ago...a two bedroom flat on the top floor of a regency building in one of the squares in Brighton, with an 'oblique' view of the sea...it is at the bottom of the road. The square is beautiful, and I've always loved being there. I decorated it to the nines. Most of my friends thought I must be gay, because his was in the days before it was OK to like 'designer' stuff if you weren't.

When I married The Boy's mother, she came as a package with a little girl, and the flat was suddenly too small. By good fortune and a helpful mortgage adviser, when the flat beneath became available I was able to buy it. The lower flat hadn't been touched for thirty years, had no central heating and was in poor condition. I did the basics of knocking them together, but then the enormity of the task sank in and not a lot happened...until a couple of years ago.

At that point, I decided things had to change, so the ENORMOUS task began. It was like rebuilding the walls of Jericho. Fortunately, The Cat's Mother got the bit between her teeth and together the pace has been transformed. The Cat and The Boy joined in with enthusiasm initially...although it did begin to fade, and latterly they've not come down with us. That's a shame.

With new carpets going down last month, the place is awesome. Really beautiful and absolutely delightful.

To celebrate, we decided that his year's New Year's gathering would be held there. It's also a chance to re-enthuse the teenagers who no longer needed to fear yet another tedious task on arrival at the flat. Approximately 20 people are coming...we will gather to see Cinderella, fireworks on the beach and then singing and dancing. It will be the first time that our friends had visited the place. A chance to show off...and for them to see 'our' project which we have talked much about.

At the beginning of the week, the woman who lives in the basement smelled gas. The gas men arrived just in time. It was a big leak and could have gone bang. They switched it off by digging up the road and disconnecting the pipe. And then they decided that the pipes were all old and need to be replaced. Not just the pipes that connect the gas main to the building, but all the gas pipes in the building. At best this is six weeks work. At best.

Until then there is no gas. That means no heating. In mid-winter. Worse still, there is no hot water. And no way of making hot water as we have a condenser boiler with no hot water tank.

It's a disaster, and we're heartbroken.

We can plug heaters in to make the place warm, but no hot water is the real problem. We think we're going to book a hotel room, just so we can use the washing facilities.

Instead of a triumphant evening of fun and frivolity we're going to have to cobble things together. Our bubble is well and truly burst.

But at least this is not our main home...I could almost weep for the other people in the building...they are going to have a cold, miserable time over Christmas. For them this is truly a disaster...what a terrible way to spend the bleak mid-winter.

A sparkling gallery

I'm so glad that over at Tara's there's lots of sparkle going on...its this week's gallery theme. There's not much sparkle here at chez Nota Bene - more on that another day, but any way, here's a picture of a very sparkly piece of ice on an Icelandic beach from earlier this year...

Christmas starts with a phwuuuuurgh...

Last week was the annual gathering of the Old Boys...with the emphasis more on the Old than the Boys. We generally meet up a couple of times a year, but the Christmas bash is always good fun. We dine at the Anchor and Hope pub near Waterloo. Our favourite is 'Shank of Cow'...it's enough to feed thousands, but we manage it all by ourselves. But this year, it was called off at the last minute...not sure why, but the enthusiasm just wasn't there, and by the day, most people had dropped out for one unconvincing excuse of another. I was quite disappointed.

On Thursday is our Christmas lunch. We've booked my favourite restaurant - Formans, just by the Olympic stadium. I've written loads about it before. I love it. I love the food...and the English Wine. As usual it was booked for 2, and the celebrations would run on until it was time to go off to 'Wicked' the musical. We're a small group, but this year we thought we could expand numbers by bringing along partners. But as the time as got closer, people have dropped out with 'one unconvincing excuse' after another, so yesterday I cancelled it. The first time in 15 years there will be no work celebrations. I'm really disappointed.

But if other people can't be bothered, I can't be bothered either.

I have a pretty busy Christmas schedule - last week was the school Christmas Carol Service, and there's nothing like a great carol to sing along to. This week we have Shakespeare's Winter's Tale on Wednesday, Wicked on Thursday, a dinner party for 18 on Saturday, lunchtime Christmas drinks on Sunday, Shakespeare's Anthony and Cleopatra on Tuesday and Woman in Black on Wednesday. Phew. That just about brings us to Christmas and then there's more. On Sunday we went to see Cinderella - the Matthew Bourne modern ballet, not the Pantomime (that comes in Brighton over the New Year!) which was fantastic...I really enjoy the beauty and grace of Matthew Bourne's work.

So I'm just run off my feet, so it's a good job that last night as part of The Queens birthday celebrations we went to a garra ruffa fish spa...quite an experience.



...and I hear that it's GUARANTEED to be a white Christmas. Ding Dong!

Even Stevens

I think I might take up shop lifting. Three times now we've bought The Boy some clothes and the shop has forgotten to take off the security tag. We've been in and out of other shops without any problems or alarms going off. Of course, it's going to be a bit embarrassing walking round with those enormous magnetic tags hanging off a sleeve or a leg, but just think of the savings. On balance, I think it's worth it!

I've never been a gambler...it never seems a clever or productive way of spending money. When The Boy was five of six we did go horse racing once...in the shadow of the Sussex Downs, and we each put on £1 a horse in every race. Remarkably as we were choosing more on the colours of the jockey's shirts, or the names of the horses, we came out with a profit...about £12 if I remember rightly. We were pleased as punch.

And recently, Gay John (he's not really gay at all) pointed me in the direction of a Spanish city banker that had turned tipster (well have you seen the state of the Spanish economy - makes it look as though we've never had it so good!). So I allocated some money...not a large sum...and have blindly been betting on the tips. They've mostly been tennis, but recently some Spanish football games. I'm not entirely surprised that I'm running at a loss - about 25% of the money I allocated. But bearing in mind the tips are coming from a city-boy, I guess that's not surprising given the state of the world's economy.

I've also taken some money out of my savings and chucked it into two companies...BP (yep that's the one that could stop a leak. They should've called a plumber) and De La Rue...they print bank notes, but were careless in a few cases, and then went and lost their CEO. In both cases, I 'bought at the bottom'. And in the case of the bank not printer, there's a take-over bid. I think I've got a farily hefty profit.

So the first lesson from this...is that the city really did indulge in uninformed casino capitalism, and their advice is not worth the paper it's written on. And secondly I haven't hesitated to profit from other people's misery. Oh.

Hello!

My weekly celebrity round-up.

OK, I know I've never done it before, and never will again, but here it is.

Whilst I'm not claiming any responsibility, the charmingish Nick Cave crashed his car at the bottom of our road and you can see his misfortune here. The Daily Mail had the best headline, 'Nick Cave and the Bad Speeds'.

I rather liked that song he did with Kylie.

On TV, there is an arts presenter. He always gets good write ups in the press. But I can't stand the man. He is a complete idiot, absolutely self-centred and totally egotistical. How do I know? A few years ago The Boy and I went on a skiing trip with a large group of people, most of whom we didn't know. He was among them, and couldn't stop talking about clever he was. On the slopes, our instructor described him as out of control, dangerous and likely to kill someone, but that didn't slow him down. We stopped one day at a restaurant that, bizarrely had an amazing wine cellar. He described one wine which was being sold for €20,000 as an absolute bargain. My blood boils every time he pops up on the Beeb.

On Facebook I've de-friended Barack Obama. We weren't that close anyway. But when he swept into power on a wave of optimism that he would change the world I signed up. Obviously there was too much hype for him ever to live up to, but I had thought he would make a difference. He hasn't and nor do I think he will. In fact his impressive oratory skills and lack of action remind me of Mr Blair. Let's hope he doesn't take us into war...although both Iran and North Korea must be in his sights....oh dear.

And talking of Mr Blair, I'm going to see the bastard. I mean man. Earlier this year I was supposed to see him at the Iraq Inquiry, but my ticket was lost, and in spite of my best efforts, several burly security guards wouldn't let me through to where a duplicate was waiting for me. The psychopath, I mean former Prime Minister, has been recalled to fill in some gaps in his evidence, and this time the Inquiry Secretariat has promised me, promised me, that I will get in. I suspect I could be there a very long time as in my mind the gaps are yawning great chasms. I will have to sit on my hands, and make sure that my shoe laces are tied very tightly.

I had a magical moment this week. Whilst walking through one of the small, formal parks in Bermondsey, I noticed that a squirrel was scurrying around, but as I walked closer he didn't run away. So I stopped, went down on one knee and held my hand out. After some hesitation. In fact a lot of hesitation he came to me. I was amazed...I guess with the snow and ice on the ground food is a little scarce so it may have been hunger-motivated. But it was lovely. Really lovely.

Rugger Bugger

Last night was the Rugby Dinner - as a player, The Boy attended. Of course.

It was a curry and the event was held at the school, starting at 7.00pm.

At 10.00pm he texted asking to be collected.

From the Horse and Well.

Yep, that's a tavern.

As he and his mate climbed in the car with big grins on their faces, The Cat's Mother and I nearly passed out from the fumes.

I made some throw-away comment that if either were sick in the car, The Boy would be grounded from now until Kingdom Come.

Safely back at home, we all disappeared to bed.

The Boy said goodnight to everyone a dozen times.

In the next hour he proceeded to get up uncountable times to go to the bathroom.

He absolutely reassures us that it was for pee purposes, not wretching reasons.

This morning he couldn't find his school tie.

Everything's allwhite

Tara's gallery...I'm so pleased that she puts the effort in to make this happen every week, as it always gives me a good excuse to rummage through pictures that would otherwise never be looked at. White is the theme, so with a large degree of inevitability here are some snaps from Herefordshire

Bonfire of the hypocrisies

I think I'm more than a little grumpy this week. In fact there's very few that have escaped me either grumbling at them or moaning at them or getting cross with them or shouting at them or slamming the phone down on them. It's most strange, I'm normally the most amiable person I know. And don't you dare say other wise.

I don't hold with secrets. Never have. Never will. A bit like lies, they are a poison that invariably seeps out and damages anyone or anything it comes into contact with.

Government have always had secrets. But to distinguish them, they are called State Secrets. Now in some cases, these are definitely forgivable...after all half the deterrent of nuclear warheads is that the enemy doesn't know where they are. So we can allow that. But as far as I can tell so far, the main content of all the information that Wikileaks is giving us, is tittle tattle. Nothing too harmless really, and certainly no real state secrets...the nearest has been the list of important targets...but as these are generally public facilities in the public domain, you can be pretty sure that any foreign secret service or Al Qaeda terrorist knows their location. So what has come out is nothing more than embarrassing. For the Americans, very embarrassing as they clearly hold the rest of the world in utter contempt...but we all probably know that already.

Julian Assange, the Australian head of Wikileaks is discovering though that governments don't like to be embarrassed. if he is indeed guilty of sexual assault, I hope they lock him up and throw the key away. But there's something uncannily coincidental about the timing of these charges, something incredibly strange at how they were dropped and then resurrected. Something smells decidedly smorgasbord.

And now Amazon, PayPal, Mastercard and Visa are trying to strangle the organisation. i think they may all be American organisations, and I have a vision of men in dark suits and even darker glasses sitting in the CEO's offices suggesting it would be in their best interests not to deal with Mr Wiki.

And this afternoon, Assange has been refused bail on the basis that he may abscond. This, the man who told British Police where he was staying when he arrived in the UK, and voluntarily walked into a police station this morning. This is where we discover that contrary to my degree in Politics, the judiciary and government may not be as separated as we have been told.

Yes I do know that all this information is stolen. But Wikileaks is a whistle-blower website, and I thought we were grown up enough to know that sometimes it's ok to sneak a look in someone else's private diary if it helps right a wrong.

Perhaps. Just perhaps. If politicians were a more straight forward, less Machiavellian, then the world would be a better place. It's nearly Christmas, I wonder if Santa might deliver this little present for me.

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!