I've not seen Social Networking...I hear it's a good film; I see it's up for an Oscar or two. It may even beat The King's Speech, which would be a shame, as I know, I just know, that Colin Firth is better. And I don't even like Royalty. In fact I'd have happily been in Piccadilly shouting off with their heads.
I remember a very, very long time ago being introduced to Facebook. A client mentioned it and saw the potential for marketing purposes. He's clearly a cleverer man than me, because when I went and had a look I thought it was a dating website. After all, it asked my relationship status, and was I interested in boys or girls. I felt obliged to sign up, but then for several years didn't look at it from one month to the next, occasionally gathering friends until I had about 15 of them. That's Johnny no mates level.
In the meantime, the world moved on, and The Boy and his generation realised it was a brilliant way of keeping in touch. If only Aunts and Grandmas would use it, they could even avoid writing thank you notes after Christmas. They haven't yet spotted that the bacchanalian photos will blight their careers for life.
A couple of years ago, I realised that I was in danger of being left behind, so started Facebooking properly, and building up a bank of REAL friends on Facebook. It even identified someone I'd not been in touch with for nigh on twenty years, and as far as I could work out there was no obvious link or common friends. I was pleased to have been put back in touch.
With access on my mobile, I began to actually enjoy it. Annoyingly though, it kept popping up with a little notification about my friends who had found more friends using friend finder. I ignored it, but the drip, drip, drip of repetition finally got to me, so yesterday I clicked on the button. And a peculiar thing happened, it revealed the names of people who have left a comment on Don't Panic. I clicked away, so you may well have a friendship request from me. I'm pleased to have got acceptances back...from people who I already regarded as friends...but for anyone who has got a strange request from some middle aged bloke they don't know...that'll be me! I won't be offended to be ignored or declined.
My mistake was then to get carried away, and I've ended up with a client who is now a Facebook friend, and I've spent many a pub hour telling people to keep Facebook for personal stuff. I've been hoisted.
There were a thousand or more other suggestions for friends from Mark Zuckerberg, many of them The Boy's school chums, but I'm not sure befriending sixteen year old girls is a good thing.
Thursday, 10 February 2011
Wednesday, 9 February 2011
Liquorice Allsorts
There's been a fair few mistakes in my life, but none bigger, I think, than deciding to follow the Top 10 design blogs. They seem to publish hourly so all the interesting blogs I like to read just get lost. It was one of those 'it seemed a good idea at the time' moments that you have when you're drunk. Not that I was, so I have no excuse.
On other blogging matters, I've discovered that I've rocketed up from being number 5 in the list of Daddy Bloggers to number 4. And I've returned to the Tots 100 list at number 80, up 188 places. I've no idea why, I'm not doing anything different. I guess everyone else is slacking and needs to pull their socks up. I'm sure there's many a pop star that would like to achieve the same in this week's 'Hit Parade' as they used to say. You can tell I've recently watched The Boat That Rocks again...it makes us all laugh and has a great soundtrack.
The ongoing disturbances in the Middle East are fascinating me...I can't keep away from the news. The UK's most well paid MP (William Hague) is currently trotting around the area shoring up the defences of British foreign policy. As well he might, we created half the mess there in the first place. Egypt is the key...I can't see how it won't get messy.
And it looks like the bankers are finally beginning to be forced to clear up the mess they made. Mind you I detect a large element of spin going on...the amount they are being forced to lend is a pitiful increase on last year, and at the rates they are charging, it's no great help to any business. Bonuses are still being paid at levels that make my eyes water....we could do with some of that Egyptian spirit here.
Closer to home, The Boy has made his A level choices...German, Geography, History and English. IMHO great choices, and all subjects he loves, so that should help over the next couple of years. The Cat is still deciding. And quite possibly will be five minutes before the deadline. She's very good academically, so whatever she chooses she'll do well - but that doesn't help her narrow her choices. It's hard for The Cat's Mother (and me a little bit)to provide the right guidance.
I might suggest a lucky dip.
On other blogging matters, I've discovered that I've rocketed up from being number 5 in the list of Daddy Bloggers to number 4. And I've returned to the Tots 100 list at number 80, up 188 places. I've no idea why, I'm not doing anything different. I guess everyone else is slacking and needs to pull their socks up. I'm sure there's many a pop star that would like to achieve the same in this week's 'Hit Parade' as they used to say. You can tell I've recently watched The Boat That Rocks again...it makes us all laugh and has a great soundtrack.
The ongoing disturbances in the Middle East are fascinating me...I can't keep away from the news. The UK's most well paid MP (William Hague) is currently trotting around the area shoring up the defences of British foreign policy. As well he might, we created half the mess there in the first place. Egypt is the key...I can't see how it won't get messy.
And it looks like the bankers are finally beginning to be forced to clear up the mess they made. Mind you I detect a large element of spin going on...the amount they are being forced to lend is a pitiful increase on last year, and at the rates they are charging, it's no great help to any business. Bonuses are still being paid at levels that make my eyes water....we could do with some of that Egyptian spirit here.
Closer to home, The Boy has made his A level choices...German, Geography, History and English. IMHO great choices, and all subjects he loves, so that should help over the next couple of years. The Cat is still deciding. And quite possibly will be five minutes before the deadline. She's very good academically, so whatever she chooses she'll do well - but that doesn't help her narrow her choices. It's hard for The Cat's Mother (and me a little bit)to provide the right guidance.
I might suggest a lucky dip.
Tuesday, 8 February 2011
Jobsworth
It seems the Americans have gone into panic overdrive in the Middle East. Their overt posturing in the last few weeks has achieved very little by way of the positive, and now it seems Obama's administration is sending out mixed and muddled messages....or at least it doesn't know whether it's coming or going. The West has spent years, decades, centuries meddling in the affairs of the middle east...and it is even possible that now we will lose all influence by having backed the wrong horses. That will create an interesting scenario. As you can tell, I find the whole middle-east fascinating.
The Boy and The Cat are now of an age where the school wants them to do some work experience. Fingers crossed and with a following breeze, The Cat may be sorted doing some stuff at The Globe...it may yet not happen, but there are 'contacts'. So that's all good. The Boy is more tricky, my own network is generally made up of micro-businesses that have enough trouble looking after themselves let alone a teenager for a couple of weeks. I feel some pressure to sort some thing. He, given half a chance would like to do something related to his German learnings....I hope the school can help. But who knows. So if you have any ideas they will be more than gratefully received.
And in other news, work for me is changing too. After fifteen years hard slog pushing sand uphill, it's all getting a bit hairy, so I'm looking at how I shape my working future. I'm not the only one. A friend who sold his agency and has been living in Devon with wife and kids copy writing has found it so tough going that he is beginning to look for a job...that may mean him returning to London. The consequences for his family life can't be good.
I've had to make The French Girl who's worked with me for the last six years redundant. I've reached a stage where I can't keep pouring money into the business. She's just bought a flat and a new car with her boyfriend. That's really hard...I know what it feels like having been at the receiving end in previous lives. Jobs, of course, are not just jobs...they are your entire life, so it has a terrible, terrible impact. For me, there are always options, and fortunately the office is not my only (or even main) source of income...and I have some exciting opportunities to explore. The plan has always been to stop this when The Boy goes off to University, so we're working two years ahead of schedule. Ahead of schedule sounds good doesn't it?! But it seems a bleak 2011 at the moment. Recessions are all about change, but the economy seems woefully unbalanced and the Government quite ineffective are creating a vision for the future.
The Boy and The Cat are now of an age where the school wants them to do some work experience. Fingers crossed and with a following breeze, The Cat may be sorted doing some stuff at The Globe...it may yet not happen, but there are 'contacts'. So that's all good. The Boy is more tricky, my own network is generally made up of micro-businesses that have enough trouble looking after themselves let alone a teenager for a couple of weeks. I feel some pressure to sort some thing. He, given half a chance would like to do something related to his German learnings....I hope the school can help. But who knows. So if you have any ideas they will be more than gratefully received.
And in other news, work for me is changing too. After fifteen years hard slog pushing sand uphill, it's all getting a bit hairy, so I'm looking at how I shape my working future. I'm not the only one. A friend who sold his agency and has been living in Devon with wife and kids copy writing has found it so tough going that he is beginning to look for a job...that may mean him returning to London. The consequences for his family life can't be good.
I've had to make The French Girl who's worked with me for the last six years redundant. I've reached a stage where I can't keep pouring money into the business. She's just bought a flat and a new car with her boyfriend. That's really hard...I know what it feels like having been at the receiving end in previous lives. Jobs, of course, are not just jobs...they are your entire life, so it has a terrible, terrible impact. For me, there are always options, and fortunately the office is not my only (or even main) source of income...and I have some exciting opportunities to explore. The plan has always been to stop this when The Boy goes off to University, so we're working two years ahead of schedule. Ahead of schedule sounds good doesn't it?! But it seems a bleak 2011 at the moment. Recessions are all about change, but the economy seems woefully unbalanced and the Government quite ineffective are creating a vision for the future.
Monday, 7 February 2011
Broken promises
I've spent my entire working life in PR. So I know the press pretty well. Inspite of the glamour that goes with it, it is a pretty harsh life. Strangely full of disappointments, and having to sell your soul on someone else's behalf. And that generally explains why there are so few nice people in PR.
On Friday, there was an urgent request for people to talk about leaving their kids at home alone. What age is it OK to do that. Legally, there's no set age...any age is fine, providing nothing goes wrong...if it does, then you're in the poo.
I started leaving The Boy at 11 to allow me to get out of an evening. I always used to tell people (and I may have told you before) that I'd always left him playing with matches and sharp knives with the front door open. One night, I came home to the smell of burning.
He'd been doing some history, making a poster for some Elizabethan period homework. To make it authentic, he'd cut it roughly, smeared it with a damp teabag before burning the edges.
I thought it was a good little story, and so did the journalist on The Sunday Times. They would send a photographer Saturday morning. We could keep the photos afterwards she said. The Cat's Mother was excited, The Boy was excited, The Cat was excited, even offering to fore go her Saturday morning sleep in to see us pictured. When he didn't appear, I contacted the paper, to discover, eventually, that no they weren't sending a snapper. But not to worry I was still part of the story. I took it in my stride; The Cat's Mother was saddened..."That's not very nice" she said.
Opening the paper on Sunday morning, the article was there in all its glory. But not a word of mention of The Boy's tale. We'd been edited out. Totally. The Cat's Mother was seriously upset, The Cat was quite unhappy, and even I was saddened. Of course, it was probably just the subs whose job it is to make sure that an article fits the space. But it has altered everyone in the house's perception of the press. The Cat's Mother thinks that if they treat everyone like that, it's no wonder they're such horrible people. She's right, the press does act with thinking about the consequences to the people who come into contact with it. This is a minor, minor case, but imagine how it operates on the bigger stage.
I've seen this all before over the last 25 years, but today it is making me wonder about the business I'm in....I don't like letting down the people who matter to me most.
On Friday, there was an urgent request for people to talk about leaving their kids at home alone. What age is it OK to do that. Legally, there's no set age...any age is fine, providing nothing goes wrong...if it does, then you're in the poo.
I started leaving The Boy at 11 to allow me to get out of an evening. I always used to tell people (and I may have told you before) that I'd always left him playing with matches and sharp knives with the front door open. One night, I came home to the smell of burning.
He'd been doing some history, making a poster for some Elizabethan period homework. To make it authentic, he'd cut it roughly, smeared it with a damp teabag before burning the edges.
I thought it was a good little story, and so did the journalist on The Sunday Times. They would send a photographer Saturday morning. We could keep the photos afterwards she said. The Cat's Mother was excited, The Boy was excited, The Cat was excited, even offering to fore go her Saturday morning sleep in to see us pictured. When he didn't appear, I contacted the paper, to discover, eventually, that no they weren't sending a snapper. But not to worry I was still part of the story. I took it in my stride; The Cat's Mother was saddened..."That's not very nice" she said.
Opening the paper on Sunday morning, the article was there in all its glory. But not a word of mention of The Boy's tale. We'd been edited out. Totally. The Cat's Mother was seriously upset, The Cat was quite unhappy, and even I was saddened. Of course, it was probably just the subs whose job it is to make sure that an article fits the space. But it has altered everyone in the house's perception of the press. The Cat's Mother thinks that if they treat everyone like that, it's no wonder they're such horrible people. She's right, the press does act with thinking about the consequences to the people who come into contact with it. This is a minor, minor case, but imagine how it operates on the bigger stage.
I've seen this all before over the last 25 years, but today it is making me wonder about the business I'm in....I don't like letting down the people who matter to me most.
Friday, 4 February 2011
It's a slippery slope
hiybbprqag - no I'm not explaining that.
Last night we watched Louis Theroux in Israel. He is an absolute master at allowing people to dig their own graves. The programme was about Settlers. A masterful piece that should open a few eyes. I would love to see change in that region.
The Cat's Mother loathes exercise, so when she travelled with us to go skiing last year, her friends fell of their collective chairs. It was a significant feather in my cap evidently. She came back complaining that it was a ridiculous thing to be doing, the clothes were ridiculous, and ski boots were ridiculous. I think you get the idea. But secretly, I just knew she enjoyed herself. At least she was still speaking to me at the end of the week.
And I've been proven correct as we'll be off to the slopes in a couple of weeks time. This time we will be accompanied by The Muffins - The Cat's Mother's sister, husband and girls. The smaller Muffins are eight and five, and will share lessons with their mum and The Cat's Mother. The Boy, The Cat, Muffin Dad and I will be doing our own thing. But I have a suspicion we will be missing out on all sorts of jolly japes. Here is video evidence of last year's trauma. I think she did very well.
In preparation, The Cat's Mother has started going to exercise clases. Remarkably, the class is run, I believe, by an ex Pan's People girl (well, woman now). So for all those boys who used to get their weekly thrill by watching the cavorting on Top of The Pops, here we go....did you have a favourite?
Last night we watched Louis Theroux in Israel. He is an absolute master at allowing people to dig their own graves. The programme was about Settlers. A masterful piece that should open a few eyes. I would love to see change in that region.
The Cat's Mother loathes exercise, so when she travelled with us to go skiing last year, her friends fell of their collective chairs. It was a significant feather in my cap evidently. She came back complaining that it was a ridiculous thing to be doing, the clothes were ridiculous, and ski boots were ridiculous. I think you get the idea. But secretly, I just knew she enjoyed herself. At least she was still speaking to me at the end of the week.
And I've been proven correct as we'll be off to the slopes in a couple of weeks time. This time we will be accompanied by The Muffins - The Cat's Mother's sister, husband and girls. The smaller Muffins are eight and five, and will share lessons with their mum and The Cat's Mother. The Boy, The Cat, Muffin Dad and I will be doing our own thing. But I have a suspicion we will be missing out on all sorts of jolly japes. Here is video evidence of last year's trauma. I think she did very well.
In preparation, The Cat's Mother has started going to exercise clases. Remarkably, the class is run, I believe, by an ex Pan's People girl (well, woman now). So for all those boys who used to get their weekly thrill by watching the cavorting on Top of The Pops, here we go....did you have a favourite?
Tuesday, 1 February 2011
Times they are a changing
It's tumultuous times around the globe, and even in the world of Nota Bene very many things are changing. At home it's all for the good, although the challenge of getting where we want to is quite daunting. Of this more soon. At work, it's all for the bad, but then that is the state of the nation isn't it?
The Boy and The Cat have done their mocks, with, in most cases, fabulous results. And where they're not what the could be, they at least know where to focus their attention. The next challenge is to decide which 'A' levels to take, but that decision seems to be more about which degree they want to do, so things have to be done a bit arse about face. At the start of the process it all seemed quite easy, but as the day of reckoning looms, the picture gets ever less clear. The Cat's Mother and I can only offer so much guidance...and I knew I was way out of my depth when I suggested the boy got the Uni's to send him a prospectus...of course all these things are available on their web sites. the one thing that seems certain is that he won't become a marine biologist as predicted by a soothe sayer before he was born. Clearly she didn't realise that you needed two sciences at 'A' level to do that.
It was quite a peculiar start to the month today. I managed to punch a hole in the wing of my beloved Jeep...I thought I was being careful in reversing round the edge of a truck, but all I was doing was quietly gouging the metal. Ouch.
Then I had to run the gauntlet of the paparazzi...I know I'm a legend in my own lunch hour, but in this case it wasn't me they were snapping. I had to go to the municipal tip (yep, I was playing hooky from the office) which is situated by the Spurs practice pitch. It's not very salubrious, but there were TV and press photographers everywhere, so I can only assume in amongst all the Lamborghini's and Ferrari's was Mr Beckham.
I was a good boy scout when I left Waitrose - there was a dear old lady pushing a trolley up the hill looking quite distraught. She'd lost her car and thought it might be at the top of the hill, or round the corner. I jumped out of my car, and in my most patronising way asked what colour it was. "It's red, Japanese, a Nissan and the registration begins S997" I walked up the hill and round the corner, but it wasn't there, so I walked back to the supermarket. There it was right outside, so I helped her with her trolley back down the hill, and loaded the shopping in, I have a feeling she shouldn't have been driving, but that's for the authorities to decide. And she at least didn't have a hole in the nearside wing of her car.
The Boy and The Cat have done their mocks, with, in most cases, fabulous results. And where they're not what the could be, they at least know where to focus their attention. The next challenge is to decide which 'A' levels to take, but that decision seems to be more about which degree they want to do, so things have to be done a bit arse about face. At the start of the process it all seemed quite easy, but as the day of reckoning looms, the picture gets ever less clear. The Cat's Mother and I can only offer so much guidance...and I knew I was way out of my depth when I suggested the boy got the Uni's to send him a prospectus...of course all these things are available on their web sites. the one thing that seems certain is that he won't become a marine biologist as predicted by a soothe sayer before he was born. Clearly she didn't realise that you needed two sciences at 'A' level to do that.
It was quite a peculiar start to the month today. I managed to punch a hole in the wing of my beloved Jeep...I thought I was being careful in reversing round the edge of a truck, but all I was doing was quietly gouging the metal. Ouch.
Then I had to run the gauntlet of the paparazzi...I know I'm a legend in my own lunch hour, but in this case it wasn't me they were snapping. I had to go to the municipal tip (yep, I was playing hooky from the office) which is situated by the Spurs practice pitch. It's not very salubrious, but there were TV and press photographers everywhere, so I can only assume in amongst all the Lamborghini's and Ferrari's was Mr Beckham.
I was a good boy scout when I left Waitrose - there was a dear old lady pushing a trolley up the hill looking quite distraught. She'd lost her car and thought it might be at the top of the hill, or round the corner. I jumped out of my car, and in my most patronising way asked what colour it was. "It's red, Japanese, a Nissan and the registration begins S997" I walked up the hill and round the corner, but it wasn't there, so I walked back to the supermarket. There it was right outside, so I helped her with her trolley back down the hill, and loaded the shopping in, I have a feeling she shouldn't have been driving, but that's for the authorities to decide. And she at least didn't have a hole in the nearside wing of her car.
Monday, 31 January 2011
Letting the genie out of the bottle
Well thank heavens it's the end of January. I'm never sure why January was invented...it's interminably dull, grey, cold and inhospitable. And of course we have to deal with The Boy's Mum's anniversary. Seven year's down the road, it remains as poignant as ever.
They say the two topics you should never discuss are politics and religion, but I find them both fascinating...no wonder I studied politics at uni. But that was in the days of the Soviet Union, so a goodly portion of my time was spent Kremlin watching, and after its collapse I wonder if it was time well spent. If it happened now, I'd probably be demanding my money back.
Away away in Arabia, the political landscape is changing and changing fast. I look on in a mix of interest and amusement. At the Iraq Inquiry Blair talked about being in the business of 'Nation Building'. Well you can hardly say that he's being successful in Gazza where the local population are deprived of the basic materials they need to build. And it was him that refused to condemn the Israeli invasion of Lebanon in the hope they would crush Hezbollah. The long-term net result of that is that it looks as though the Lebanese may well gain a pro-Syrian government again, and the West will have lost an important middle east ally. Let's not get into Iraq or Afghanistan...oh...oh we have already. Of course one place where he has been successful nation building is Iran - no longer held in check by Iraq, it is becoming a regional super power with a nuclear capability. No wonder the Israelis are worried.
In Egypt, we can't be sure of the outcome, but my money is on a less Western-inclined leadership which gains legitimacy through the ballot box. If that happens, it is really only a matter of time before other pro-Western states like Saudi Arabia begin to tumble like dominoes. It's interesting that we have tried to impose democracy on countries that are not ready for it, and have failed - Iraq and Afghanistan, yet where a desire for democracy is deeply ingrained, the west is unlikely to benefit from it. I can't help also recalling that in Palestine, Hamas won the last free elections...which the west refused to accept, creating the current impasse.
The Foreign Office must collectively be cacking their pants at the prospect. Decades of diplomacy are unravelling before their eyes, leaving the west at its weakest in this key region, just as oil supplies which are vital to the western economies, are beginning to dwindle. No wonder western governments such as the UK and US are sticking their nose in (where it's not wanted) and suggesting that Mubarak cuts and runs...their suggestions that he introduces reforms are wholly unrealistic and they must know that...they desperately need to gain favour with whoever succeeds him. If the military comes to power, we will have a temporary solution, but not one that will give the people what they are seeking.
The storm clouds are really beginning to gather around Israel, and that will undoubtedly increase their already mega-high levels of paranoia. Who knows how they will react. They didn't react well when peaceful charities tried to take supplies to Gazza, slaughtering nine of them, so I can't imagine it will be well, and in my head I can already see a mushroom cloud. The beneficiaries of all this are likely to be Russia and China. Our hand in this game of poker looks remarkably weak. I blame Bush and Blair..and Obama who failed to act on the brave words at the start of his presidency.
In April whilst The Cat and The Boy are off skiing, we were planning to head to Jordan. We may need to rethink our plans.
They say the two topics you should never discuss are politics and religion, but I find them both fascinating...no wonder I studied politics at uni. But that was in the days of the Soviet Union, so a goodly portion of my time was spent Kremlin watching, and after its collapse I wonder if it was time well spent. If it happened now, I'd probably be demanding my money back.
Away away in Arabia, the political landscape is changing and changing fast. I look on in a mix of interest and amusement. At the Iraq Inquiry Blair talked about being in the business of 'Nation Building'. Well you can hardly say that he's being successful in Gazza where the local population are deprived of the basic materials they need to build. And it was him that refused to condemn the Israeli invasion of Lebanon in the hope they would crush Hezbollah. The long-term net result of that is that it looks as though the Lebanese may well gain a pro-Syrian government again, and the West will have lost an important middle east ally. Let's not get into Iraq or Afghanistan...oh...oh we have already. Of course one place where he has been successful nation building is Iran - no longer held in check by Iraq, it is becoming a regional super power with a nuclear capability. No wonder the Israelis are worried.
In Egypt, we can't be sure of the outcome, but my money is on a less Western-inclined leadership which gains legitimacy through the ballot box. If that happens, it is really only a matter of time before other pro-Western states like Saudi Arabia begin to tumble like dominoes. It's interesting that we have tried to impose democracy on countries that are not ready for it, and have failed - Iraq and Afghanistan, yet where a desire for democracy is deeply ingrained, the west is unlikely to benefit from it. I can't help also recalling that in Palestine, Hamas won the last free elections...which the west refused to accept, creating the current impasse.
The Foreign Office must collectively be cacking their pants at the prospect. Decades of diplomacy are unravelling before their eyes, leaving the west at its weakest in this key region, just as oil supplies which are vital to the western economies, are beginning to dwindle. No wonder western governments such as the UK and US are sticking their nose in (where it's not wanted) and suggesting that Mubarak cuts and runs...their suggestions that he introduces reforms are wholly unrealistic and they must know that...they desperately need to gain favour with whoever succeeds him. If the military comes to power, we will have a temporary solution, but not one that will give the people what they are seeking.
The storm clouds are really beginning to gather around Israel, and that will undoubtedly increase their already mega-high levels of paranoia. Who knows how they will react. They didn't react well when peaceful charities tried to take supplies to Gazza, slaughtering nine of them, so I can't imagine it will be well, and in my head I can already see a mushroom cloud. The beneficiaries of all this are likely to be Russia and China. Our hand in this game of poker looks remarkably weak. I blame Bush and Blair..and Obama who failed to act on the brave words at the start of his presidency.
In April whilst The Cat and The Boy are off skiing, we were planning to head to Jordan. We may need to rethink our plans.
Friday, 28 January 2011
The Scottish Question
I don't get the Scottish.
If you go to the BBC news page, Scotland is now called Alba. That probably means nothing to anyone who lives in Edinburgh, Glasgow and Aberdeen, let alone the rest of the world. Next thing they'll be telling me they've renamed Rhodesia, and that Peking doesn't refer to the capital of China. I understand that Wales is known to a few die-hards as Cymru, and that plenty of EU funds go into re-naming everything in joint English and Welsh. But I've never come across a single Scot (or indeed a married one) who spoke anything but the Queen's English, albeit with an impenetrable accent.
Whilst a pretty unreasonable proportion of my taxes goes to supporting their deep fried Mars bar and whisky habit, I'm not sure what we get in turn, apart from regular insults from a politician whose name sounds like a fish. Probably farmed at that. I'm driven to distraction by Scottish acquaintances who've lived 90% of their lives in England, but still claim that Scotland is a better place, and that Scots invented everything. Auntie Gwen is, of course, 'Present company excluded' on the basis that she seems to have been dragged down here under false pretences and would return to the mother country given half a chance. Or even a tenth of one.
And now, of course, we're just about to kick off with the Six Nations. The question is (thank you Norman Tebbit) which team will you be cheering for?
Scotland is on my mind this week because we celebrated Robert Burn's birthday on Tuesday. We had haggis, and in a nod to modernity, vegetarian haggis too. McSweens of course. My advice...avoid the veggie one...like soggy nut cutlet. I whistled it in, because we don't possess bagpipes, and The Cat wouldn't pipe it in on her flute. She did read some poetry to make up for it though. And we all drank some Speyside. Which I appreciated more than every one else. Hurrah for Scotland the Brave.
The Boy and The Cat had colds this week. The Cat took a day off school; The Boy has spent two days in bed and drunk the world's entire supply of Lemsip whilst mooching around and feeling terrible. It's not for me to comment of course, but I do feel that I've brought him up brilliantly and ready to slip into his role as Alpha Male susceptible to Man Flu at the slightest sign of a sneeze. Toodlepip.
If you go to the BBC news page, Scotland is now called Alba. That probably means nothing to anyone who lives in Edinburgh, Glasgow and Aberdeen, let alone the rest of the world. Next thing they'll be telling me they've renamed Rhodesia, and that Peking doesn't refer to the capital of China. I understand that Wales is known to a few die-hards as Cymru, and that plenty of EU funds go into re-naming everything in joint English and Welsh. But I've never come across a single Scot (or indeed a married one) who spoke anything but the Queen's English, albeit with an impenetrable accent.
Whilst a pretty unreasonable proportion of my taxes goes to supporting their deep fried Mars bar and whisky habit, I'm not sure what we get in turn, apart from regular insults from a politician whose name sounds like a fish. Probably farmed at that. I'm driven to distraction by Scottish acquaintances who've lived 90% of their lives in England, but still claim that Scotland is a better place, and that Scots invented everything. Auntie Gwen is, of course, 'Present company excluded' on the basis that she seems to have been dragged down here under false pretences and would return to the mother country given half a chance. Or even a tenth of one.
And now, of course, we're just about to kick off with the Six Nations. The question is (thank you Norman Tebbit) which team will you be cheering for?
Scotland is on my mind this week because we celebrated Robert Burn's birthday on Tuesday. We had haggis, and in a nod to modernity, vegetarian haggis too. McSweens of course. My advice...avoid the veggie one...like soggy nut cutlet. I whistled it in, because we don't possess bagpipes, and The Cat wouldn't pipe it in on her flute. She did read some poetry to make up for it though. And we all drank some Speyside. Which I appreciated more than every one else. Hurrah for Scotland the Brave.
The Boy and The Cat had colds this week. The Cat took a day off school; The Boy has spent two days in bed and drunk the world's entire supply of Lemsip whilst mooching around and feeling terrible. It's not for me to comment of course, but I do feel that I've brought him up brilliantly and ready to slip into his role as Alpha Male susceptible to Man Flu at the slightest sign of a sneeze. Toodlepip.
Wednesday, 26 January 2011
Personal matters
There comes a time in life when you need to get your plumbing sorted. If you know what I mean. And sure enough that time has come. It's a new year, and at the end of 2010 there had been a sort of gassy smell. It wasn't pleasant. For anyone. It was bad enough that the emergency services were called, and they pronounced an immediate diagnosis. Some of my 'pipes' were old and leaky and needed to be replaced. As ever with these things these days, the Christmas season caused a bit of a blockage, so it's been a gruelling few weeks. To stop any more leaks they had simply cut my pipes and sealed them up. I can't tell you the discomfort that's caused.
Anyway, today they pronounced my plumbing all fixed. Saturday, they'd inserted a new pipe, and today when it looked as though it had bedded in, they unblocked it and everything was reconnected. Not a leak to be found. They showed me the instrument read outs, glass containers and the rubber tubes which proved it.
So yes indeed we have the gas supply reconnected in Brighton. That means hot water and no cold rooms. I never thought I'd be so grateful.
On other plumbing matters, there was a strange thing in the bottom of the toilet this morning. It looked a bit like an octopus tentacle, without the suckers, and white & brown. It could have been a piece of pottery. It could have been a twig. It wasn't nice. It certainly didn't belong there. Of course I could have just flushed it. But I had to know what it was. And so did The Cat's Mother.
So on went the rubber gloves. I reached down and grabbed it. It was soft and slippery. Call me a wimp. I had had enough. I couldn't flush it away quickly enough. So I'll never know.
Anyway, today they pronounced my plumbing all fixed. Saturday, they'd inserted a new pipe, and today when it looked as though it had bedded in, they unblocked it and everything was reconnected. Not a leak to be found. They showed me the instrument read outs, glass containers and the rubber tubes which proved it.
So yes indeed we have the gas supply reconnected in Brighton. That means hot water and no cold rooms. I never thought I'd be so grateful.
On other plumbing matters, there was a strange thing in the bottom of the toilet this morning. It looked a bit like an octopus tentacle, without the suckers, and white & brown. It could have been a piece of pottery. It could have been a twig. It wasn't nice. It certainly didn't belong there. Of course I could have just flushed it. But I had to know what it was. And so did The Cat's Mother.
So on went the rubber gloves. I reached down and grabbed it. It was soft and slippery. Call me a wimp. I had had enough. I couldn't flush it away quickly enough. So I'll never know.
Tuesday, 25 January 2011
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.
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.
Friday, 21 January 2011
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.
Thursday, 20 January 2011
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!
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!
Tuesday, 18 January 2011
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
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
Monday, 17 January 2011
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.
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.
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