In the buff

Trouble follows us wherevr we go. Yesterday Moscow - the airport we flew into last year. And today Beirut...where we were in November. If you want to know our travel plans for the rest of year, so you know destinations to avoid, just drop me an email.

Well January is galloping by (thank God), and still not all the Christmas decorations have been put away. In fairness to one and all, there is a lot of them. And it s a long way up to the top room where they are stored between festive seasons. And because the boxes in which they are kept are old, very old, and far too fragile to be carried anyhere, they stay where they are in the rarefied atmposphere of the rafters, so each individual bauble, angel, snowman, candle, sparkly thing is carried up. One by one. But it is important that everything is put back in its place. And I can tell you that we have strapping thighs. Which may help when we go skiing in a month's time.

Naturally, in such a tidy household, the teens are under a lot of stress. These days, The Boy is under a lot of pressure not to leave his entire wardrobe in the middle of the floor, with his damp shower towels piled on top. The Cat? Well I don't know really as I never dare put my head round her door. Although the occasional screams from The Cat's Mother suggests that not all is always well there. Of course, I am the epitome of the Tidy Father. If I have five pairs of shoes at the bottom of the stairs it's because they're all in use. Clothes left at the end of the bed? Ready for putting away in the morning. I never reveal which morning though. The Cat's Mother is the tidiest person I know. So since our arrival, her life has been one of despair and desperation. We do our best; we know it's not enough.

Riding home last night it was chilly...I somehow misplaced my Buff, which keeps the space between my head and my shoulders (yep I know most people call it my neck) warm when I ride. I tore the office to pieces trying to find it. It could only have been in the office, because that's the only place I take it off after the daily commute. I searched high and low, but to no avail. It was a complete mystery. A further search ensued at home, but nothing. Absolutely nothing. Immenseley frustrating, especially as I got it to support Dan on his sponsored Hadrian's Walk.

This morning it was light when I left for work. And nearly warm. Absolutely brilliant. I can feel the temperatures rising as we head towards summer already. Let's just hope it isn't going to be like last year's 'bbq summer'. When we all got wet.

Oddly, my Buff was on my desk when I arrived in the office today. I blame the fairies.

Confronting demons

We all grow up with monsters...they mostly hide under the bed or in the wardrobe, terrorising us when we go to sleep. Pixar did a very good job in turning childhood fear into humour. For most of us, as we grow up the monsters go away. Today I saw a monster. A real live monster.

I assumed my place at the Iraq Inquiry this morning, surrounded by parents of dead boy soldiers. One wore a gold heart with her son's picture engraved on it. By the end of the morning, not one left without shedding tears. Some walked out when Tony Blair made a self-righteous, self-justifying statement at the end of his evidence. Others shouted at him when he left the room. He didn't look anyone in the eye. He had smiled at Lord Chilcott when he first arrived, but left grim-faced just after 2.00pm.

We learnt many things. The invasion was because after 9/11 it was important that UN resolutions were enforced. By invading we cowed dangerous countries into given up weapons of mass destruction - Libya was the only country he could name. There were unlimited resources for our forces to use - nobody had asked for more than they got. The policy that led to war was discussed extensively amongst all ministers....there are no records, because many of the meetings were informal. Ministers didn't need briefing papers on the background...but if they asked they could have had them. He didn't need a second resolution to go to war, and Lord Goldsmith understood that once he understood the negotiations behind Resolution 1441. Tony thought it good enough for us to get a 'majority' in the security council...a veto wouldn't have mattered, providing there was a majority. And so it went on....blah, blah, blah.



My arrival had been interesting - I joined a queue with my blue invitation, only to be pulled out by an official saying to someone with a green invite - "Green is good, blue is even better." I was taken to the front of the queue, with the same official saying "Ah Mr Nota Bene we know your name well". Once through the lines of armed police and scanners, I was searched. The one of the men in blue noticed I was seat zero. He quickly called over all his fellow officers, all with machine guns, all with heavy body armour. "Look seat 0" he said as they gathered. After a short pause one said, "No don't worry, that's just second row seat zero." I was allowed through. And the proceedings began with Mr Blairs appearance. He was very tanned and was taller than I expected. But then that's the point about monsters, they can be even bigger in real life than in your imagination.

So should I have thrown a shoe? I wore an older pair today. And perhaps I should. It had been a very serious consideration. My fifteen minutes of fame. But the truth is, many of the people there had more reason than me to complain...and the mother next to me said she wanted 'dignified protest'. My shoes stayed on my feet.

I've got the hump

Yesterday was Gallery day, and I hummed and ha-ed about what to post, but couldn't really think of anything that fitted the theme. A little disappointing as I like to participate, but eventually I just commented that I'd given up, but would look at some of the entries. Now call me a liar, if you will, but I've not had a chance to browse the entries, and now I've found a picture that I thought would be right, so I shall post it.



This morning I went on a social media training course. I need to know for my business, and because I have an innate need to know and understand. I've not yet quite got to the stage of not being able to operate the gadgets around the house (although it is fair to say turning on the TV is now quite a challenge). Of course, one of the key things about commercial social media is driving numbers to your website, to your blog, to your Facebook page, to your Twitter account. So when I mentioned about the blog, I had to take a very deep breath and explain that it is purely, utterly and totally personal and I don't care about visitor numbers. Of course that is an utter lie - I do keep a regular eye on the counter, and would love to have many more visitors and many more follwers (did you see what happened to Grumpy Old Ken when his very excellent and entertaining blog was listed as a 'blog of note' by Google?). I don't know why...its just my competitive nature I guess....not that I will do anything to chase readers. Unlike that shameless Auntie Gwen who mentions sex at every possible opportunity. And she swears a lot. Also that Steve, who keeps putting up pictures of attractive women. Of coure, I shall ignore any suggestion that they have more readers because their blogs are better. Anyway, the course was really interesting, and if I get my sorry ass into gear and do what I'm supposed to, it will have been incredibly useful. Thank you Warren.

I'm a little over excited to be honest. In fact very, very over excited. Very few things really get me going...actually I'm laid back enough that in my entire life, I can count the number of times I've been really excited on the fingers of my hands. After a failed previous attempt, tomorrow I get to go to the Iraq Inquiry to see the war criminal Tony Blair perform. I'm hoping it's a very juicy session. I suspect it will be. I'm still thinking of wearing an old pair of shoes so I can throw one...but for some reason the family thinks this is a bad idea. The Cat's Mother says she won't post bail. Still...if I get 250 new followers, I might just be tempted!

Sometimes you have to pay for it

But fortunately it comes in a handy tube from John Lewis



The Boy and I went to the London Bike Show on Sunday - The Cat and The Cat's Mother went off to a nephew's birthday celebrations. I'm not sure who got the better deal. The Boy and I were not really speaking after a furious - very furious - argument the night before. We don't argue much. In fact just once a year. Always in January. But when we argue it's like the Third World War. So not much fun for anyone around us either. And it started off as something relatively small - The Boy not back home when he was expected, before it accelerated and spiralled out of control into something apocalyptic. Kids! Who'd have 'em?

The show was quite a disappointment...it may be that we've both grown out of exhibitions, or maybe we just weren't in the mood. However, if you've got a spare £16,000 (that's more than I paid for my car, and double what I paid for my motorbike) you could get this:



It's so light that it can be picked up by your little finger. Still at that price I'd have hoped for front and rear lights.

On the up side, we did see Danny Macaskill - something of a hero for us both. Here's a YouTube clip (can anyone tell me why they don't format properly on my blog? Any ideas of how to fix would be much appreciated) and the accompanying song is one of my all time favourites

If you can't stand the heat get out of the kitchen

"It'll be a baptism of fire for your new raincoat today". Well it's raining. It's a raincoat. There is no fire. If it doesn't keep me dry, it's not a raincoat. End of.

I've been reading Justin Halpern's 'Shit my dad says'. He became a social network sensation for posting up things his father's comments. Very funny. Well worth a read. It's a popcorn book.

We went to see 'The King's Speech' on Friday night. The cinema was more packed than I've seen for years. Harry Potter showings excepted. A quite remarkable film. Very well done indeed. It should be Oscars all round for Colin Firth, Geoffrey Rush (especially) and Helena Bonham Carter. I suspect it won't...a bit too 'British' for that, but a truly awesome film.

Unfortunately, Friday is where it all started to go wrong. And by Saturday morning, my blood was boiling. I had to leave.

The boiler had gone wrong and wouldn't turn off. Not even the on/off switch would do anything. Not even the thermostat would do anything. Not even the programmer would do anything. Saturday, and the temperature inside the house hit 28 degrees. That's hotter than Cyprus. The boiler man came. He did a lot of head scratching, and commenting "To be absolutely honest with you...." He did at least shows us a mains switch to cut the electricity. And a leaky valve. He's going to consult with his boss and come back to us. So in Brighton we have no heat and no hot water. In Loughton we have a surfeit of both. A statistician would not doubt say, on average we're fine.

I have a feeling it may take a while to resolve.

Commercial break (avert your eyes Grandma in Cyprus)

Our household seems quite penis focused recently. I'm not sure why, but may be it is because The Cat's Mother and The Cat spent too long in an all female environment, and are now over-compensating.

When we holidayed in Iceland, the subject of The Boy's Welsh background was much discussed, not withstanding he also became our designated Troll. Anyway, his heritage became corrupted to 'hairy tidge'. And several months later, the subject regularly comes up (ooh err missus).

This week, I managed to split my motorcycle trousers, wear out the crotch of my favourite jeans and burst the zip on some black trousers. I declared I must have 'enormous bollocks' to The Cat's Mother, who couldn't resist in passing that gem on to The Boy and The Cat. For Viz readers, this may bring back memories of one sort or another:



Anyway, enough of that. I've had a torrent of press releases this month. As usual most are completely wrong and especially irritating when they start, "I really enjoy reading your blog" Before trying to get me to write about nappies. Not sure if they're trying to tell me I'll be reaching the age of incontinence soon...

FlipVideoHD want to know if I'm doing a Valentines list and if so would I like to publish a press release about their camera. Well only if 'mucky movies' interest The Cat's Mother. Flippin' heck.

Holiday Nanny thinks 'childcare vouchers are the perfect Mother's Day present' Well may be...after a washing machine, food processor and a toaster.

Thanks to Madeleine Scarlett-Smith for giving me a six hour 'heads up' on new research that says that people with children are less likely to have a Carbon Dioxide alarm. Perhaps they need the peace and quiet.

Ryan Levitt of Team Wholegrain wants me to 'drop me a line to work out what exclusive content we can jointly develop to make your blog stand out' Thanks for the vote of confidence. Evidently some celebs will be spending a day teaching me to cook using Shreddies and Cheerios. Are they kidding? Really? Really.

OK there's been loads more...but you've probably had them all. But one more.

And this one I liked getting. But you're not to be interested in it. I repeat NOT to be interested in it. Autotrader is running a competition for people to write a review of their car and win £1000 for their troubles. But you're NOT to enter. I've entered and I'd like the money. Most of you are better writers than me so give me a break. Don't enter. You don't need the money. My entry is here..the typos are their fault. Not mine. Don't forget. Do not enter. Please. Pretty please.

50 not out

The office ground to a halt yesterday with the first of the 20-20 cricket matches. Some work was done through most of the commentary, but the last four overs were quite distracting. In fact very distracting. So distracting that I was late leaving for lunch with The Cats Mother. Some people are golf widows, some football widows...and some suffer for the cricketing cause.

On Saturday I went to the Cultural Highlight of 2011 - or - The Idea That Wouldn't Go Away.

Curiously it was The Cat's Mother's Brother's birthday. Henceforth he will be known as Up. Now the strange thing is, he was in the same class as me at school but neither of us remember each other. The stranger thing is that this was his 50th birthday. So you would assume that this year is also my 50th birthday year. But by some curious mathematical quirk, although I was born in 1961, I will be 37. I am currently 37 and quite content to stay there.

Now back to Up. He is musically talented, as indeed are the rest of his family...in fact in becoming an accountant he missed his vocation. But to make up for it, for his birthday he hired a theatre and invited friends and family to put on little performances. For many people, that would be a horrifying, embarrassing experience. But his is surrounded by extrovert, talented people and they rose to the challenge. From 12.30 through to 6.30, there was a continuous stream of performances ranging from Sondheim to choral music; from music hall to Elton John; there were readings there was slapstick. The Boy played guitar and The Cat sang...together they did an excellent rendition of Your Song...and with the backing of professional musicians from the ENO, they did Is this the way to Amarillo. Up conducted the proceedings as well as performing a few pieces including Neil Hammonds 'Bankers'. Participants ranged in age from 5 to 90. I blew a whistle.

It was an amazing, life enhancing experience. And I can't think of a better way for anyone to celebrate their half century.

The Burke and Hare entry

Another year, another photo challenge from Stickyfingers...and I rise to the challenge with a cheat. Obviously I didn't take any of these pictures. But they are body parts, and the first three are mine.

Here's my arm, which suffered a 'compression fracture' when I came off my Vespa at the bottom of my road. That didn't stop me continuing on to work, and going out for lunch, before deciding that sweating, feeling nauseous and having a very painful arm was probably not right. I went skiing two days later.



And here are my eyes. The optician said I should see the doctor because all the blood vessels are wiggly. The doctor said opticians should stop interfering. I just want to know that my precious eyes are ok. Which they are.




And finally, a fabulous work of art. Life size 'Airfix' kit by Wayne Chisnell

All washed up

I received a text from my friend in Australia today - she lives near Brisbane:

"My parents will almost certainly lose their house. They are staying with my sister but even that is not safe - but no way out. My brother and his family are also stranded. The island is likely to flood by Thursday, but we have no way off. We will be OK, but the shop may not"

The floods in Australia are horrendous, and the death toll is rising daily as the rain keeps pouring down. The flooded area, I'm told, is the size of France and Germany - almost unimaginable.

So if you get a little moment...say a prayer

Dancing Queen

I like dancing. I love dancing. In fact there is no better 'Dad dancer' than me. Give me a birthday party, a wedding or New Year celebration and I'll be there. Much to the dismay of The Boy and The Cat. But you reach a certain age when the disapproving eyes of offspring don't matter.

But there's another sort of dancing I like. Ballet. Yep poofs in tights is good for me. And just after the New Year we went to see a ballet that I first saw nigh on twenty years ago. The Tales of Beatrix Potter. I don't remember being a Beatrix Potter fan when I was in short trousers, but I guess something must have persuaded me to go and see it all those years ago. And I loved it. Of course this is not high-brow stuff, it's good fun stuff. And not a spandex wrapped crotch to be seen anywhere. Instead, the most exquisite costumes which are perfect reproductions of the original Tales drawings. How they dance in them I have no idea. They must sweat like Pigling Bland. Anyway, my first (and probably only) recommendation for the New Year is that should you get the chance do go and see The Tales Of Beatrix Potter. Take your offspring if you must; we left ours at home.

First Friday Photos

As it's the very first Friday, I thought I'd indulge myself with some of my favourites from last year....it's a pretty random selection in a pretty random order. Hope you enjoy them too.


Skiing in France January 2010


Lebanon - Byblos


Beirut Museum


A daft picture of me at Kings of Leon in Hyde Park


Camden Lock - December


More Camden


Blue Lagoon - Reykjavik


Iceland


Iceland


Black sand in Iceland


Reykjavik


Sunset western Iceland


Graffitti in Icelandic wilderness


Pebbles on black sandy beach


Big skies in Iceland...I think I liked the place!


Summer Palaces Russia


Moscow metro system


Back in Blighty - Borough market


Bermondsey


Autumn leaves in Bermondsey


Near Tower Bridge London


At Kings of Leon - The Boy's idea for a picture


The Battle of Cable Street


The Cat and Mum - confirmation celebrations


Tottenham Court Road - new buildings


Bermondsey St park - an old graveyard in the spring


Restored bandstand in Brighton


Brighton bandstand


Us in Brighton


Brighton

Who'd be a celebrity?

Twenty-eleven is not starting well for celebrity deaths, and the two of particular note for me are Gerry Rafferty and Mick Karn.

Rafferty was fantastic...we all love Baker Street don't we? And his solo albums all deserve a re-listen. But my favourite has always been Stuck in the Middle which featured in Reservoir Dogs. I've never been able to listen to it in the same way since seeing the film. Interestingly, Louise Redknapp did a more than passable version...and I'm not to much of a fan of pop princesses. Unfortunately I couldn't get the code to embed the video of the 'Ear Scene', so here's a slide show instead



Rafferty died an alcoholic...and once upon a time that would have passed me by...after all everyone likes a good drink don't they? But reading Addy's blog Alcoholic Daze has given me a different insight into the abject misery and despair this illness brings to the victim and those around them. No question there are mixed feelings about his passing.

Mick Karn may not be a name that leaps out of the page for many, but he was the bass guitarist for Japan...one of my absolute favourite bands of the eighties. He was just 52 and cancer did its worst. Sadly, the fame of thirty years ago hadn't translated into lasting wealth, and he'd had to appeal for money for treatment. Still a great talent and part of an amazing band.

Don't mock me

Not bad.

Not bad at all.

Just 389 e-mails in my in box on return to the office. It took no more than 10 minutes to delete all but five of them. And nothing there to give me the willies. So 2011 starts well. I'm pleased.

For the teens, it's slightly different. They will go back to school tomorrow to face the mountain that is mock GCSEs. The Mocks have been hanging over them all holiday, as, no doubt, it has for countless other kids their age.

As we all know, men are from Mars and women from Venus, and this is perfectly exemplified by their respective approaches to revision.

The Cat rises early and works through the day and into the evening to a rigorous timetable (distractions apart that is). One element of each subject, read, re-read and analysed every forty-five minutes. It's no fun. But she'll do well.

By comparison, The Boy manages a leisurely lie-in, followed by a shower, a bit of breakfast before returning to his bed. At some stage he will re-appear for a coffee, perhaps a wander upstairs to the Top Room for another go at Assassin's Creed on the X-Box. And so the day continues. Somewhere, at some stage, the revision does get done. But I've no idea how, where or when. It scares the living daylights out of me. But he'll do well. I just don't know how.

The exams go on until the end of next week, by which time I'll be a nervous wreck. The teens will be relieved, and we'll all be able to celebrate the end of the First Stressful period of the school year.

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