Given the chaos that is The Middle East and Northern Africa at the moment, it may well have escaped your attention that Burkina Faso is also in the midst of some unrest, with soldiers rampaging on the streets. This follows a fevered February when it was the students' turn to protest against the Government. Burkino Faso is one of those countries that has no military, economic or political significance, rating just 161 out of 169 on the UN's list of national development, and most of us don't even know where it is (I had to check). So events there don't reach the front pages of our newspapers. I read about it on France 24 and Al Jazeera, which only goes to prove that need to get your news from one place to get a balanced picture of what's going on in the world. I'm not holding my breath that the UN will come and sort this one out, but the French may be on a roll, so don't be surprised if they send some assistance...although to which side I just don't know.
The Boy is back from Adventurous training in the Lake District, later on, but it'll be far from a return to normal as both he and The Cat are off on Silver Duke of Edinburgh tomorrow morning....six o'clock in the morning to be precise. I'm not sure what it is about the school that they feel the need to inflict such early rising punishment on the parents. So the prospects for tonight are a whirlwind of The Boy talking ten to the dozen (what does that mean?) as he washes and dries his clothes for the next couple of weeks...we'll be exhausted. The Cat's Dad has offered to pick them both up and take them to the school which is an interesting dilema...it seems churlish to say no, even though The Boy (humourously I think) refers to him as El Bastardo in a heavy South American accent. But as I haven't seen The Boy much this holiday I quite fancy the early rise.
Talking of things South American, we went to see Rio this weekend. Inspite of the hype, it's really quite a disappointment. One of the great things about being a parent is being able to see those films that you would be seen dead at as a teenager, but as the years advance you know would be fun to watch, so it's a double disappointment when the film is not up to standard. We had to kidnap the Muffins to give us reason to go. Anyway, the two lead human characters are hopeless...completely dorky which is fine when they save the day at the end of the film, but they were just as dorky at the end as they were at the beginning. I can't even say the animal/bird characterisation was much better, and the 'Angry Birds' placement added nothing to the film. So save your money on that one.
On a happy note at the ned, Nigeria appears to have held reasonably free and fair elections, and it looks like the incumbent will win. His name is Goodluck Jonathan. So in the hope that some degree of democracy has been achieved in Nigeria, goodluck Jonathan.
Monday, 18 April 2011
Friday, 15 April 2011
History is bunk
It's depressing to see The World's Oldest Man has died. The thing is, he seems to die every month. As does The World's Oldest Woman. I never read beyond the headline, but it does seem strange to me that they keep on popping off like that. It's a title I hope I never get to inherit. I'm not even sure how you apply for it, perhaps it's just an honourary thing.
It's been an odd week without The Boy. The house is a lot quieter, so we're all looking forward to him coming back to us from his week away doing 'Adventurous Training'. I don't normally keep in touch with him whilst he's away, but on this occasion we've swapped a few texts, although no doubt not as many as he's swapped with his girlfriend, and in any case, they dried up altogether on Thursday...no doubt because of poor mobile reception in the Lake District where he's been yomping up hills and down valleys. Evidently its 'bloody freezing' and so wet that they had to do the rock climbing indoors. That must have been a very big building. It should help him in his preparations for Silver Duke of Edinburgh Award, and it won't do any harm in his CCF progression - evidently he's best in his year, so maybe he'll earn a new stripe soon.
Hopefully he will be pleased to see us; I'm sure he'll be pleased to see his room which has been painted, and fitted with new wardrobes, shelves, desk and carpet. It looks quite splendid....even if the picture is pretty rubbish.
Doing The Boy's room has meant that we;ve been going through (yet another) cycle of chucking stuff away. It's supposed to be therapeutic, but after all the efforts to create some breathing space in Brighton it's beginning to feel that isn't the case.
At the same time, I've been clearing out the office. We've been running for fifteen years, and almost a quarter of the space was being taken up with old press coverage. It was an impressive pile of stuff, and the product of many hours, days, weeks, months, years of effort. But at the end of the day was it ever going to be looked at again? No it wasn't. So it had to go. And it was hard. I was ruthless...not looking at what was going, simply chucking it out. But it's provoked a thought train which may yet be a bit of a pandora's box. If I'd been an architect, the fruit of my labours would be there for all to see for years and years. A monument to my skill. I'd have left a mark. The same must be true for many others. It is certainly what drove (obsessed) Tony Blair in his final months...his legacy. In the same way, actors and actresses leave a fantastic legacy if they're on film or TV...for ever alive for people to see and watch.
I guess then, that unless I change careers, this blog will be my legacy. I'd better sharpen up my act then!
It's been an odd week without The Boy. The house is a lot quieter, so we're all looking forward to him coming back to us from his week away doing 'Adventurous Training'. I don't normally keep in touch with him whilst he's away, but on this occasion we've swapped a few texts, although no doubt not as many as he's swapped with his girlfriend, and in any case, they dried up altogether on Thursday...no doubt because of poor mobile reception in the Lake District where he's been yomping up hills and down valleys. Evidently its 'bloody freezing' and so wet that they had to do the rock climbing indoors. That must have been a very big building. It should help him in his preparations for Silver Duke of Edinburgh Award, and it won't do any harm in his CCF progression - evidently he's best in his year, so maybe he'll earn a new stripe soon.
Hopefully he will be pleased to see us; I'm sure he'll be pleased to see his room which has been painted, and fitted with new wardrobes, shelves, desk and carpet. It looks quite splendid....even if the picture is pretty rubbish.
Doing The Boy's room has meant that we;ve been going through (yet another) cycle of chucking stuff away. It's supposed to be therapeutic, but after all the efforts to create some breathing space in Brighton it's beginning to feel that isn't the case.
At the same time, I've been clearing out the office. We've been running for fifteen years, and almost a quarter of the space was being taken up with old press coverage. It was an impressive pile of stuff, and the product of many hours, days, weeks, months, years of effort. But at the end of the day was it ever going to be looked at again? No it wasn't. So it had to go. And it was hard. I was ruthless...not looking at what was going, simply chucking it out. But it's provoked a thought train which may yet be a bit of a pandora's box. If I'd been an architect, the fruit of my labours would be there for all to see for years and years. A monument to my skill. I'd have left a mark. The same must be true for many others. It is certainly what drove (obsessed) Tony Blair in his final months...his legacy. In the same way, actors and actresses leave a fantastic legacy if they're on film or TV...for ever alive for people to see and watch.
I guess then, that unless I change careers, this blog will be my legacy. I'd better sharpen up my act then!
Wednesday, 13 April 2011
Herbie rides again
I once had a scheme which involved buying train tickets just before the prices went up, so that I could profit from the difference. It never made me a fortune. I had a similar scheme for stamps. I did make a small fortune - about twenty four pence. I count that a success. Last week, I mentioned that I'd had deodorant problems...the spray stopped spraying leaving me a sweaty undeodorised man. Not good on the tube. The manufacturer didn't help when I contacted them, but those lovely people at Boots sent me a giftcard for my troubles. And normally that would be it. All done. All sorted. But in a moment of deodorant rage yesterday I sent an e-mail to the CEO, Herbie. Getting a phone call from him half an hour later caught me only slightly off guard. He's on the case, and has promised me a package next week. I assume it won't be ticking. I'll be back using Soho Fish Dry Deodorant. And I'll be in profit again. At this rate, I'll be in The Times Rich List before you know it. I promise not to forget you all my plantation slaves.
Someone else who is rich is Arianna Huffington. She was rich before she sold the Huffington Post for £315 million. Actually she probably got dollars, but is certainly a good deal richer than she was before. And good luck to her. Except, she started off by telling everyone she was setting up a site as an alternative to right-wing leaning networks. So bloggers have contributed quality content to establish it as a leading global publishing platform that makes $30 million a year. And that would probably have been fine, except she decided to sell to one of those networks. So the blogging contributors have started a class action to get their share of the winnings - claiming they've been treated like plantation slaves. My view is that this isn't the first time that someone has made a fortune of the backs of other people's sweated labour and it won't be the last. So she's probably morally bankrupt, but otherwise doing nothing wrong. Let's face it there are a lot of morally bankrupt people around these days. The bloggers themselves have gained a lot of kudos by contributing...but I guess that doesn't help pay the bills. If I was AOL though, I'd begin to wonder about the sustainability of a model that relies on free contributions to generate editorial.
Someone else who must get paid well is Daisy Waugh who writes a piece in The Sunday Times Magazine every week. I don't read it often, but I did this weekend. It was something about not being able to organise a piss up in a brewery, or at least a dinner party at home. It was an OK piece nothing special...and certainly nothing better than I get to read here in the blogosphere. The Sunday magazines are littered with columns like hers. So it got me wondering why she gets paid and others don't. Why doesn't The Sunday Times simply adopt the Huffington model? They'd get better copy wouldn't they. Of course, poor old Daisy would be out of a job and would have to sell her children into plantation slavery. But it's a tough world isn't it?
I've a friend who's been a very active Facebooker, but has come to realise that 140 characters is not enough, so has asked for some tips on starting a blog. I haven't got a clue. I just jumped in and have been swimming ever since...so if you've got any tips for her they would be muchly appreciated. But I'm not paying you for them.
The BBC adopted a rather arrogant tone yesterday when it asked, 'Can ordinary people make good interviewers?' Implying to my narrow chip on the shoulder mind that they regard themselves as something extra-ordinary. I'm generally a great supporter of the Beeb, but here I think we have a reporter getting out of line. They should start reading some blogs and realise that just because you choose to do something as a profession doesn't make you any better than people who do the same thing but for fun. professional arrogance should be left to the bankers and plantation owners.
PS does anyone know what's happened to the wonderful Tom Foolery?
Someone else who is rich is Arianna Huffington. She was rich before she sold the Huffington Post for £315 million. Actually she probably got dollars, but is certainly a good deal richer than she was before. And good luck to her. Except, she started off by telling everyone she was setting up a site as an alternative to right-wing leaning networks. So bloggers have contributed quality content to establish it as a leading global publishing platform that makes $30 million a year. And that would probably have been fine, except she decided to sell to one of those networks. So the blogging contributors have started a class action to get their share of the winnings - claiming they've been treated like plantation slaves. My view is that this isn't the first time that someone has made a fortune of the backs of other people's sweated labour and it won't be the last. So she's probably morally bankrupt, but otherwise doing nothing wrong. Let's face it there are a lot of morally bankrupt people around these days. The bloggers themselves have gained a lot of kudos by contributing...but I guess that doesn't help pay the bills. If I was AOL though, I'd begin to wonder about the sustainability of a model that relies on free contributions to generate editorial.
Someone else who must get paid well is Daisy Waugh who writes a piece in The Sunday Times Magazine every week. I don't read it often, but I did this weekend. It was something about not being able to organise a piss up in a brewery, or at least a dinner party at home. It was an OK piece nothing special...and certainly nothing better than I get to read here in the blogosphere. The Sunday magazines are littered with columns like hers. So it got me wondering why she gets paid and others don't. Why doesn't The Sunday Times simply adopt the Huffington model? They'd get better copy wouldn't they. Of course, poor old Daisy would be out of a job and would have to sell her children into plantation slavery. But it's a tough world isn't it?
I've a friend who's been a very active Facebooker, but has come to realise that 140 characters is not enough, so has asked for some tips on starting a blog. I haven't got a clue. I just jumped in and have been swimming ever since...so if you've got any tips for her they would be muchly appreciated. But I'm not paying you for them.
The BBC adopted a rather arrogant tone yesterday when it asked, 'Can ordinary people make good interviewers?' Implying to my narrow chip on the shoulder mind that they regard themselves as something extra-ordinary. I'm generally a great supporter of the Beeb, but here I think we have a reporter getting out of line. They should start reading some blogs and realise that just because you choose to do something as a profession doesn't make you any better than people who do the same thing but for fun. professional arrogance should be left to the bankers and plantation owners.
PS does anyone know what's happened to the wonderful Tom Foolery?
Tomorrow never comes
So celebrations all round in the Nota Bene household.
On top of The Cat's success in the acting world, The Boy is also top of his year in the CCF. My joy is only tempered by the encouragement it gives him in things military. But that doesn't stop me being immensely proud of him, and The Cat.
In addition, The Seagulls (that's Brighton and Hove Albion) have won automatic promotion to The Championship...they're sixteen points clear, there's still loads of matches to play, but they have enough points to see them through even if they lose the rest of the games this season...which they won't. I should point out I'm not a football fan, but I'm cockahoop nonetheless. And hopefully we'll go and watch hem in their new stadium next year. Just for the experience.
Topping off the the list of wey hey heys, is the French victory in the Ivory Coast. Not that I support one side or the other there. It's just good to see the French break their duck and win a war.
Tara's gallery theme this week is tomorrow...which is one of those clever ones that's intensely irritating because it makes you think a bit. For the first time in a while, I actually took some photos for the gallery. They're not great. In fact they're pretty horrible really. So much that The Cat and The Cat's Mother didn't want to look at them. Using my phone I took pictures of us and then used some software to show what we will look like tomorrow. Well not tomorrow itself, but a tomorrow some way down the road. It's a mighty depressing line up of old croaks we have here.
Thank heavens tomorrow never comes
On top of The Cat's success in the acting world, The Boy is also top of his year in the CCF. My joy is only tempered by the encouragement it gives him in things military. But that doesn't stop me being immensely proud of him, and The Cat.
In addition, The Seagulls (that's Brighton and Hove Albion) have won automatic promotion to The Championship...they're sixteen points clear, there's still loads of matches to play, but they have enough points to see them through even if they lose the rest of the games this season...which they won't. I should point out I'm not a football fan, but I'm cockahoop nonetheless. And hopefully we'll go and watch hem in their new stadium next year. Just for the experience.
Topping off the the list of wey hey heys, is the French victory in the Ivory Coast. Not that I support one side or the other there. It's just good to see the French break their duck and win a war.
Tara's gallery theme this week is tomorrow...which is one of those clever ones that's intensely irritating because it makes you think a bit. For the first time in a while, I actually took some photos for the gallery. They're not great. In fact they're pretty horrible really. So much that The Cat and The Cat's Mother didn't want to look at them. Using my phone I took pictures of us and then used some software to show what we will look like tomorrow. Well not tomorrow itself, but a tomorrow some way down the road. It's a mighty depressing line up of old croaks we have here.
Thank heavens tomorrow never comes
Tuesday, 12 April 2011
The kids are alright
I'm kinda expecting to see a hooded figure walking down the street soon, and I know for sure and certain that there will be a man carrying one of those banners proclaiming 'The end of the world is nigh'. Everywhere we turn there's a problem. It must be the busiest year for death, destruction, misery and misfortune for decades. If I was God fearing, I'd be cowering in the corner.
Mr David Cameron is doing his utmost to catch up with Mr Tony Blair in the spin stakes. He rounded on Oxford University this week, because, in his words, in 2009 they took only one person of Black Caribbean origin as an undergraduate. He described that as disgraceful. Now, by any measure Oxford is not, and never will be, a bastion of equality, and technically Mr Cameron is right. But he has ignored all other ethnic groups, including Black Africans, American Africans, etc, etc. If you include those, the true figure is 22% of the intake was 'ethnic minority'. I may be wrong but I don't think that 22% of the UK's population has ethnic origins. By profession, David Cameron is a Doctor of Spin, but spouting shit like that does no one any favours.
The headlines in the papers yesterday that retail banks need protection nearly made me fall off my seat and break my neck. My experience, and that of anyone I know, is that the retail banks are as predatory as they can be, without a concern for their customers and don't in anyway appreciate the charity that we, through the Government have given them. They're certainly not grateful for it. Instead the Banks in both retail and investment forms think that just because they are banging away with handsome profits we should be impressed with their business acumen even though the rest of the world's economy lies in tatters even now. Like locusts they have caused utter devastation, stealing the food from people's mouths, leaving people's working and family lives in ruins. It's all very well for Mr Gordon Brown to say he made a mistake (as he did yesterday) as he and his cohorts didn't realise how interwoven the world's banks are. Well admitting a mistake is fine, but it doesn't fix the problem. The banks should be made to pay for their cavalier, casino approach rather than passing their spoils on to a tiny minority who get to enjoy the high life at the expense of billions of people around the world.
Japan is now on the highest possible nuclear alert...that's about as scary as it gets...although the authorities say its not a Chernobyl type problem. But the highest alert does mean a significant impact on a wide area. That will mean, figuratively if not physically, there will be little green monsters with three heads, one arm and fearsome teeth glowing in the dark running around in abject misery. Do watch this recent video:
As the former Libya Foreign Policy spokesman for Libya says, there is a danger of that country becoming the new Somalia. Let's hope not. Africa and the Middle East are unstable enough as it is.
It's enough to make you depressed.
A little while ago my opinion was asked, along with a number of others by someone whose girlfriend was beginning to want children. He was less than sure and opened. I sat on the fence. But with all this NEWS happening at the moment, I realise that the one thing that can giving you an underlying hope for the future is children. As the older generation fades away, it is their offspring that have the potential to resolve the problems created by generation after generation after generation. Admittedly history isn't on their side, but if you look into the bright eyes of a kid, whether they're two, ten or nineteen, then you can see a bright sparkle, an innate positiveness that wears away in later life.
The Cat has won herself a place on a National Youth Theatre summer course against some very very fierce competition. How fantastic is that? It's everything she wants, and will be a truly amazing experience for her. We're all truly excited at this achievement....hopefully it will help her in the future.
Mr David Cameron is doing his utmost to catch up with Mr Tony Blair in the spin stakes. He rounded on Oxford University this week, because, in his words, in 2009 they took only one person of Black Caribbean origin as an undergraduate. He described that as disgraceful. Now, by any measure Oxford is not, and never will be, a bastion of equality, and technically Mr Cameron is right. But he has ignored all other ethnic groups, including Black Africans, American Africans, etc, etc. If you include those, the true figure is 22% of the intake was 'ethnic minority'. I may be wrong but I don't think that 22% of the UK's population has ethnic origins. By profession, David Cameron is a Doctor of Spin, but spouting shit like that does no one any favours.
The headlines in the papers yesterday that retail banks need protection nearly made me fall off my seat and break my neck. My experience, and that of anyone I know, is that the retail banks are as predatory as they can be, without a concern for their customers and don't in anyway appreciate the charity that we, through the Government have given them. They're certainly not grateful for it. Instead the Banks in both retail and investment forms think that just because they are banging away with handsome profits we should be impressed with their business acumen even though the rest of the world's economy lies in tatters even now. Like locusts they have caused utter devastation, stealing the food from people's mouths, leaving people's working and family lives in ruins. It's all very well for Mr Gordon Brown to say he made a mistake (as he did yesterday) as he and his cohorts didn't realise how interwoven the world's banks are. Well admitting a mistake is fine, but it doesn't fix the problem. The banks should be made to pay for their cavalier, casino approach rather than passing their spoils on to a tiny minority who get to enjoy the high life at the expense of billions of people around the world.
Japan is now on the highest possible nuclear alert...that's about as scary as it gets...although the authorities say its not a Chernobyl type problem. But the highest alert does mean a significant impact on a wide area. That will mean, figuratively if not physically, there will be little green monsters with three heads, one arm and fearsome teeth glowing in the dark running around in abject misery. Do watch this recent video:
Chernokids (english subtitles) from Les Chernokids on Vimeo.
As the former Libya Foreign Policy spokesman for Libya says, there is a danger of that country becoming the new Somalia. Let's hope not. Africa and the Middle East are unstable enough as it is.
It's enough to make you depressed.
A little while ago my opinion was asked, along with a number of others by someone whose girlfriend was beginning to want children. He was less than sure and opened. I sat on the fence. But with all this NEWS happening at the moment, I realise that the one thing that can giving you an underlying hope for the future is children. As the older generation fades away, it is their offspring that have the potential to resolve the problems created by generation after generation after generation. Admittedly history isn't on their side, but if you look into the bright eyes of a kid, whether they're two, ten or nineteen, then you can see a bright sparkle, an innate positiveness that wears away in later life.
The Cat has won herself a place on a National Youth Theatre summer course against some very very fierce competition. How fantastic is that? It's everything she wants, and will be a truly amazing experience for her. We're all truly excited at this achievement....hopefully it will help her in the future.
Monday, 11 April 2011
Getting on with it
As I rode my bike this morning I saw a single, solitary school boy walking along the pavement. I wondered if someone had forgotten to tell him that school has broken up for Easter and he was going to arrive with gates padlocked shut, and him left standing until one of his parents turned up to rescue him.
Someone else who migt need rescuing is Nick Clegg as he becomes ever more Tory....did you hear his comments as he left that press conference last week? I'd been horrified that he criticised middle class parents for fulfilling their parental responsibilities by helping their kids, when he had enjoyed that benefit himself. But I ended up rolling around on the floor when it transpired that some senior Labour politicians were spouting the same hypocrisy. Why open your mouth if you haven't got anything sensible to say?
The Arab Spring seems to be heating up - despotic rulers waking up to the realisation that if they don't clamp down hard, they will be out of a job. And probably a life. In Egypt, the protestors are being hit hard by the army, in Syria, protestors are being shot left, right and centre, and in the Yemen protester is fighting protester. Nothing is being said about Bahrain. In Libya, one suspects that the proposal of the African Union will preserve Gadaffi's dignity and probably his position...it has a history of supporting dictators. Still who can blame them for thumbing their collective noses at former colonial powers? If it does, The West's African adventure will be a mighty embarrassment. Gadaffi is the one leader that said 'No' and then stood his ground. If he survives, you can bet your bottom dollar that the rest of the Arab world will see his wisdom and the feint flicker of democracy will be snuffed out.
I was mighty angry with David Cameron last week for rolling into Pakistan and claiming that many of the world's problems are our fault whilst he handed over a massive aid cheque. What a bizarre world role we are carving out when on the one hand we stick our nose into Libya in some latter-day colonial folly whilst at the same time acknowledging that past colonial activity was wrong. I'm a great believer in judging people's and countries actions by the standards of the time. So by that measure, we should know now not to be mucking around in other countries' internal affairs...even if we did it a couple of hundred years ago.
The Cat and The Boy returned from their skiing antics on Saturday night. Well Sunday morning actually...1 o'clock in the morning. I'm not sure what it says about the school's ability to organise, but they'd left a week before at 4 in the morning. Perhaps the teachers are all night owls, but those times don't work for me....or The Cat's Mother. The whole trip sound far more Inbetweeners than respectable public school to me...drinking, vomiting, drinking, pole dancing, drinking, erm toilet incidents, drinking, water skiing (yes they were in the French Alps), drinking, concussion, drinking. I'm sure it wasn't like that in my day. No doubt we'll find out more as the days wear on and further secrets are revealed. There doesn't seem to be much to say about the skiing, other than it was hot, the snow had all turned to slush by 11 in the morning and water by midday. Oh yes, and The Boy won the race. Again. He's good. Very good indeed.
The Cat is home for the duration, and will bury her head in books as she revises dawn to dusk ready for GCSEs. At least she won't be being distracted by Facebook as she's given it up for Lent. God will be grateful.
The Boy on the other hand has gone off for a week's adventurous training in the Lake District with the CCF. He will love it, and hopefully the mild weather will persist for him as he yomps around. No doubt he'll do some last minute cramming when he returns.
Anyway, I should be working...it's Monday morning, and the last five day week for a little while!
Someone else who migt need rescuing is Nick Clegg as he becomes ever more Tory....did you hear his comments as he left that press conference last week? I'd been horrified that he criticised middle class parents for fulfilling their parental responsibilities by helping their kids, when he had enjoyed that benefit himself. But I ended up rolling around on the floor when it transpired that some senior Labour politicians were spouting the same hypocrisy. Why open your mouth if you haven't got anything sensible to say?
The Arab Spring seems to be heating up - despotic rulers waking up to the realisation that if they don't clamp down hard, they will be out of a job. And probably a life. In Egypt, the protestors are being hit hard by the army, in Syria, protestors are being shot left, right and centre, and in the Yemen protester is fighting protester. Nothing is being said about Bahrain. In Libya, one suspects that the proposal of the African Union will preserve Gadaffi's dignity and probably his position...it has a history of supporting dictators. Still who can blame them for thumbing their collective noses at former colonial powers? If it does, The West's African adventure will be a mighty embarrassment. Gadaffi is the one leader that said 'No' and then stood his ground. If he survives, you can bet your bottom dollar that the rest of the Arab world will see his wisdom and the feint flicker of democracy will be snuffed out.
I was mighty angry with David Cameron last week for rolling into Pakistan and claiming that many of the world's problems are our fault whilst he handed over a massive aid cheque. What a bizarre world role we are carving out when on the one hand we stick our nose into Libya in some latter-day colonial folly whilst at the same time acknowledging that past colonial activity was wrong. I'm a great believer in judging people's and countries actions by the standards of the time. So by that measure, we should know now not to be mucking around in other countries' internal affairs...even if we did it a couple of hundred years ago.
The Cat and The Boy returned from their skiing antics on Saturday night. Well Sunday morning actually...1 o'clock in the morning. I'm not sure what it says about the school's ability to organise, but they'd left a week before at 4 in the morning. Perhaps the teachers are all night owls, but those times don't work for me....or The Cat's Mother. The whole trip sound far more Inbetweeners than respectable public school to me...drinking, vomiting, drinking, pole dancing, drinking, erm toilet incidents, drinking, water skiing (yes they were in the French Alps), drinking, concussion, drinking. I'm sure it wasn't like that in my day. No doubt we'll find out more as the days wear on and further secrets are revealed. There doesn't seem to be much to say about the skiing, other than it was hot, the snow had all turned to slush by 11 in the morning and water by midday. Oh yes, and The Boy won the race. Again. He's good. Very good indeed.
The Cat is home for the duration, and will bury her head in books as she revises dawn to dusk ready for GCSEs. At least she won't be being distracted by Facebook as she's given it up for Lent. God will be grateful.
The Boy on the other hand has gone off for a week's adventurous training in the Lake District with the CCF. He will love it, and hopefully the mild weather will persist for him as he yomps around. No doubt he'll do some last minute cramming when he returns.
Anyway, I should be working...it's Monday morning, and the last five day week for a little while!
Thursday, 7 April 2011
Wednesday, 6 April 2011
It's all about me
If it's good enough for Nick Clegg, it's good enough for me. This week I've a work experience lad in the office. He's studying 'media' and needed a week's work. He's the son of one of The Cat's Mother's oldest friends so I said yes. I had no choice. And a jolly nice lad he is too. So aside from making the coffee, doing the photocopying, taking my dry cleaning to the laundry I'm a bit stuck for things for him to do. Any suggestions gratefully received.
Equally, come the sumer holidays The Boy needs a week in a job for experiential purposes. It's a struggle finding anything, so if you've got any contacts who might need a handsome, enthusiastic lad to run around for a week, I know the perfect candidate.
Well doesn't time fly when you're enjoying yourself? It must be fun in the Presidential Residence of Laurent Gbagbo this morning. I can't help feeling that the Ivorian political situation has been seen so many times over the last fifty years that we should all be questioning why so many African states can't escape the vicious cycle of failed democracy, corruption and endless economic stagnation or decline. Thank heavens the UN and The French have decided to take their lead from Mr Tony Blair and stick their collective noses in wherever and whenever they can.
I realise that its now a couple of weeks since Auntie Gwen tagged me to do a meme...she'll think I'm ignoring her which is just not true. Anyway, to save me the trouble of tagging three more people...can you just please use your initiative and give it a whirl?!
Here we go:
Three names I go by: Dad (you guessed that), Nota Bene (you know that), Nick (you didn't know that). But NEVER, EVER Keith...I even had it removed from my passport
Three places I’ve lived: Brighton (Hove actually), London (all over), and Epping Forest. But NEVER, EVER Essex...I don't have a pair of stilettos. The only way is not Essex
Three places I’ve worked: Oh I've had so many jobs....nearly all in PR (sadly). I started in Coventry (when there was a company called Rover in existence), before working in Worthing (yay, by the coast, boo, everyone there is ready to die, even if they're only 25) and I'm glad I've spent so long working in London...but I can't wait until I don't have to
Three things I love to watch: Films....not quite any film, but I'm very liberal in my tastes. The sea...especially when it's windy and the waves are as tall as houses...I never tire of it; kitesurfing...fascinating. Rarely, if ever, television...it just doesn't seem to be part of my life
Three places I have been & love: Brighton...I have to include my favourite city. Oberjoch...it's in the Bavarian Alps, and I spent a summer working there as a student. The Boy and I went back a couple of years ago, and it's just as brilliant now as it was then. Iceland...have been there twice. It is just beautiful. But I wouldn't want to live there
Three people that email me regularly: Mr and Mrs Spam..yep I get loads and loads and loads. Admittedly some of it is newsletters I signed up for years ago, but there still seems a lot that I don't want. An ex-fiance (no I don't have a collection, I should say THE ex-fiance)...we keep in regular contact. I generally get on well with my ex's, but I'm always glad they are ex's. Olive, a distant relative, who sends those witty jokes that make us all roll around on the floor laughing. Actually I don't get enough friendly e-mails, so please fell free to e-mail me regularly
Three things I love to eat: marshmallows - I can eat a whole bag in one sitting; buffalo or was it bison? I had it once and can still taste it; American Hot with extra olives from Pizza Express - I've been eating it for twenty five years and see no reason to stop. But never, ever tripe - Grandma in Cyprus used to feed raw tripe to the dogs when I was young and I can still smell it thirty five years later
Three things I am looking forward to: Christmas. I had a rubbish Christmas last year, stuck in bed with nasty flu, missing out on all the celebrations. I love the Christmas holiday...the least stressful part of my year. It can't come round soon enough. Going to Cyprus to visit Grandma in Cyprus...it's been a real shame that we couldn't do it this week, especially as she's not on top form at the moment. A special treat I've organised for The Cat's Mother. I can't tell you what it is; it would spoil the surprise. But definitely NOT my next birthday. It's a biggie. And everyone is more excited than me.
Equally, come the sumer holidays The Boy needs a week in a job for experiential purposes. It's a struggle finding anything, so if you've got any contacts who might need a handsome, enthusiastic lad to run around for a week, I know the perfect candidate.
Well doesn't time fly when you're enjoying yourself? It must be fun in the Presidential Residence of Laurent Gbagbo this morning. I can't help feeling that the Ivorian political situation has been seen so many times over the last fifty years that we should all be questioning why so many African states can't escape the vicious cycle of failed democracy, corruption and endless economic stagnation or decline. Thank heavens the UN and The French have decided to take their lead from Mr Tony Blair and stick their collective noses in wherever and whenever they can.
I realise that its now a couple of weeks since Auntie Gwen tagged me to do a meme...she'll think I'm ignoring her which is just not true. Anyway, to save me the trouble of tagging three more people...can you just please use your initiative and give it a whirl?!
Here we go:
Three names I go by: Dad (you guessed that), Nota Bene (you know that), Nick (you didn't know that). But NEVER, EVER Keith...I even had it removed from my passport
Three places I’ve lived: Brighton (Hove actually), London (all over), and Epping Forest. But NEVER, EVER Essex...I don't have a pair of stilettos. The only way is not Essex
Three places I’ve worked: Oh I've had so many jobs....nearly all in PR (sadly). I started in Coventry (when there was a company called Rover in existence), before working in Worthing (yay, by the coast, boo, everyone there is ready to die, even if they're only 25) and I'm glad I've spent so long working in London...but I can't wait until I don't have to
Three things I love to watch: Films....not quite any film, but I'm very liberal in my tastes. The sea...especially when it's windy and the waves are as tall as houses...I never tire of it; kitesurfing...fascinating. Rarely, if ever, television...it just doesn't seem to be part of my life
Three places I have been & love: Brighton...I have to include my favourite city. Oberjoch...it's in the Bavarian Alps, and I spent a summer working there as a student. The Boy and I went back a couple of years ago, and it's just as brilliant now as it was then. Iceland...have been there twice. It is just beautiful. But I wouldn't want to live there
Three people that email me regularly: Mr and Mrs Spam..yep I get loads and loads and loads. Admittedly some of it is newsletters I signed up for years ago, but there still seems a lot that I don't want. An ex-fiance (no I don't have a collection, I should say THE ex-fiance)...we keep in regular contact. I generally get on well with my ex's, but I'm always glad they are ex's. Olive, a distant relative, who sends those witty jokes that make us all roll around on the floor laughing. Actually I don't get enough friendly e-mails, so please fell free to e-mail me regularly
Three things I love to eat: marshmallows - I can eat a whole bag in one sitting; buffalo or was it bison? I had it once and can still taste it; American Hot with extra olives from Pizza Express - I've been eating it for twenty five years and see no reason to stop. But never, ever tripe - Grandma in Cyprus used to feed raw tripe to the dogs when I was young and I can still smell it thirty five years later
Three things I am looking forward to: Christmas. I had a rubbish Christmas last year, stuck in bed with nasty flu, missing out on all the celebrations. I love the Christmas holiday...the least stressful part of my year. It can't come round soon enough. Going to Cyprus to visit Grandma in Cyprus...it's been a real shame that we couldn't do it this week, especially as she's not on top form at the moment. A special treat I've organised for The Cat's Mother. I can't tell you what it is; it would spoil the surprise. But definitely NOT my next birthday. It's a biggie. And everyone is more excited than me.
Tuesday, 5 April 2011
Holiday head
Have you ever had that feeling that someone is shitting on you from a great height? I've spent most of my life thinking that, even though it's entirely unreasonable bearing in mind that by many people's standards I've done quite well, and if you compare my lot to most of the world's population, then I've had a very good life indeed. But as you know, I don't like to be proved wrong...indeed I revel in being right. Indeed I have been proved right. Walking along the North Laine in Brighton this week, there was shit on my head dropped from a great height.
I know it's supposed to be lucky, but really, HOW?
Saturday morning, four o'clock in the morning The Cat and The Boy went off skiing with the school, so The Cat's Mother and I took a few days in Brighton to enjoy the see air. The drive down was glorious as the sun rose behind us as we arrived at the sea. There are some things that just make life worth living and that is one of them.
We had planned to go abroad and soak yup the sun, but our destination was always going to be middle-eastern (so we could drop in on Grandma in Cyprus on the way), but the more we thought about it, the less sensible it seemed. And with things hotting up in Libya, Gadaffi's response is likely to get less and less reasonable...and don't forget he's been known to blow a passenger plane out of the sky on Lockerbie...so we thought flying across the Mediterranean was not the sensible option. Not that there's anything wrong with Brighton anyway, it's just that it would have been nice to get to Cyprus. Later in the year.
In the meantime, most of the snow seems to have melted in France. That hasn't stopped The Teens enjoying themselves. They haven't reported back about the skiing, but we have been updated about some of the evening revelries (not sure how much supervision the teachers are doing...).
A text from The Boy said, "Oh. The Kat wasn't feeling well. Dehydrated, headache, stomach. Unrelated to last night's happy hour;)"
A wee while later, The Kat texted, "I just felt really sick. Woke up at 2 and the nausea didn't go away till 3.30 :( It came back when I woke up. I don't think I'll drink tonight. The wine is cheap and disgusting anyway. I think it was too much sun yesterday."
Yes, we all think it was too much sun yesterday...don't we...
I know it's supposed to be lucky, but really, HOW?
Saturday morning, four o'clock in the morning The Cat and The Boy went off skiing with the school, so The Cat's Mother and I took a few days in Brighton to enjoy the see air. The drive down was glorious as the sun rose behind us as we arrived at the sea. There are some things that just make life worth living and that is one of them.
We had planned to go abroad and soak yup the sun, but our destination was always going to be middle-eastern (so we could drop in on Grandma in Cyprus on the way), but the more we thought about it, the less sensible it seemed. And with things hotting up in Libya, Gadaffi's response is likely to get less and less reasonable...and don't forget he's been known to blow a passenger plane out of the sky on Lockerbie...so we thought flying across the Mediterranean was not the sensible option. Not that there's anything wrong with Brighton anyway, it's just that it would have been nice to get to Cyprus. Later in the year.
In the meantime, most of the snow seems to have melted in France. That hasn't stopped The Teens enjoying themselves. They haven't reported back about the skiing, but we have been updated about some of the evening revelries (not sure how much supervision the teachers are doing...).
A text from The Boy said, "Oh. The Kat wasn't feeling well. Dehydrated, headache, stomach. Unrelated to last night's happy hour;)"
A wee while later, The Kat texted, "I just felt really sick. Woke up at 2 and the nausea didn't go away till 3.30 :( It came back when I woke up. I don't think I'll drink tonight. The wine is cheap and disgusting anyway. I think it was too much sun yesterday."
Yes, we all think it was too much sun yesterday...don't we...
Friday, 1 April 2011
First Friday Photos(hop)
Well it's really getting quite surreal in Libya now. If it wasn't already. In 2009 Silvio Berlusconi presented Gadaffi with the gift of a white lion called Romulus. His brother, called Remus was transported to Berlusconi's estate (the one where he held his infamous 'bunga bunga' parties). Gadaffi feels slighted by the Italians so threatened to release Romulus into the wild and in a move yet to be sanctioned by the UN, the Italians sent in a crack team of soldiers to rescue it in the early hours of this morning. Barking mad. Absolutely. No it's not an April Fool.
Anyway, it is April 1st and it is a Friday, so I've dug out some photos I've taken this month. If you double click on them you can see them full size
These two were actually taken in January 2009, but I was playing with Photoshop, and realised just how easy it is to completely change the nature of a picture. The first one has been altered - a late autumn on parched soil. As opposed to the second picture, the original, which was taken on a misty, snowy, cold winter's morning. Surreal. Some of the other pictures have been 'enhanced' as well...I wonder if you can guess which ones?
This is a piece of work by Ben Eine...we walked around the East End with some friends. Art or graffiti? I think it's very pleasing.
In Norfolk, I came across this tumbledown outhouse...really atmospheric
A shop in Shoreditch...ful of kitsch...the sort of thing you'll find this restaurant is decorated with. I love it.
More decay in Norfolk...an enormous abandoned house
Same place
More Roa - an indoors installation...you had to walk all round it and peer inside to see all the work. Fascinating
I'm not a Royalist...these teabags were given to us by The Boy's German exchange student...they are a lot of fun, and we'll be re-using them on THAT wedding day
Lovely beach huts in Norfolk
Roa...absolutely my favourite street artist
I was just taking a picture of the child's footprint, when the dog came along and stuck his nose in
I asked this lady if I could take a picture of her and her dog...
Really pleased with this shot of geese
And finally more beach huts...nothing quite as quintessentially English as a beach hut
Anyway, it is April 1st and it is a Friday, so I've dug out some photos I've taken this month. If you double click on them you can see them full size
These two were actually taken in January 2009, but I was playing with Photoshop, and realised just how easy it is to completely change the nature of a picture. The first one has been altered - a late autumn on parched soil. As opposed to the second picture, the original, which was taken on a misty, snowy, cold winter's morning. Surreal. Some of the other pictures have been 'enhanced' as well...I wonder if you can guess which ones?
This is a piece of work by Ben Eine...we walked around the East End with some friends. Art or graffiti? I think it's very pleasing.
In Norfolk, I came across this tumbledown outhouse...really atmospheric
A shop in Shoreditch...ful of kitsch...the sort of thing you'll find this restaurant is decorated with. I love it.
More decay in Norfolk...an enormous abandoned house
Same place
More Roa - an indoors installation...you had to walk all round it and peer inside to see all the work. Fascinating
I'm not a Royalist...these teabags were given to us by The Boy's German exchange student...they are a lot of fun, and we'll be re-using them on THAT wedding day
Lovely beach huts in Norfolk
Roa...absolutely my favourite street artist
I was just taking a picture of the child's footprint, when the dog came along and stuck his nose in
I asked this lady if I could take a picture of her and her dog...
Really pleased with this shot of geese
And finally more beach huts...nothing quite as quintessentially English as a beach hut
Thursday, 31 March 2011
Fluffy
Against all our best hopes, it seems that in Fukushima, things are getting worse. Fortunately it doesn't look like it's another Chernobyl, but if as suspected at least one if not more of the reactors has gone into meltdown then problem is not going to go away anytime soon. In my head I have a vision of a glowing lump of molten goo slowly burning its way through to the earth's core. Of course, that's nonsense, but it does show what happens when mankind starts playing with things it can't really control. There's also talk of the evacuation zone being extended...which is all very well, but I'd have thought that common sense would have meant that an earlier evacuation would have been better...even recognising the quarter of a million people already displaced by the combined earthquake and tsunami. I am pretty sure that when history is told, this will be the more significant event when compared our rather sad and dishonest attempts to dislodge a petty dictator in Libya.
Back in my own little world, last night we went to see Legally Blonde...one of the most popular shows in the West End this year. I've not seen the film, but all the reviews have been excellent and Sheridan Smith has been lauded for her efforts in the lead role. I wasn't sure it was something I would like, but one of The Boy's teachers saw it with his family a little while ago, and as I respect his opinion, I thought I was being narrow-minded. So off we went.
Oh my oh my oh my. Where do I start? It's so lightweight it makes candyfloss feel like concrete. Vacuous plot, vacuous songs, vacuous acting and vacuous singing all makes for a hideous concoction of total (pink) crap. Unless of course, you're a fourteen year old girl in which case it's brilliant. The auditorium was full of those, so there were cheers, whoops and screams throughout. Not surprising as the lead character is modeled on Barbie. I wanted to punch the character that referenced Shakespeare...something close to sacrilege. Anyhoo. Not quite my cup of tea....apologies to The Cat who occasionally reads this. She's 16, not 14.
I wouldn't want you to think I don't like fluffy. I do. I can eat a whole packet of marshmallows in one go. And regularly do. It's probably the marshmallow in it that makes Pfish Food my favourite ice cream.
And talking of Fish, I've been using their deodorant as it works well, smells nice and comes in a nice piece of packaging. Except, that the last two cans have stopped working after a week. I'm not that sweaty and smelly. Really I'm not. I dropped a note to their customer care line and was pleased to get a response...they asked me to let them know which brand as KMI Brands evidently owns lots of them. So I let them know. Absolutely no response whatsoever. So from that I can only conclude they have lots of problems and don't want to deal with them because it's a crap product. So if you see a shiny blue can of Fish deodorant in Boots. Save your money and buy marshmallows instead because Fish stink.
Back in my own little world, last night we went to see Legally Blonde...one of the most popular shows in the West End this year. I've not seen the film, but all the reviews have been excellent and Sheridan Smith has been lauded for her efforts in the lead role. I wasn't sure it was something I would like, but one of The Boy's teachers saw it with his family a little while ago, and as I respect his opinion, I thought I was being narrow-minded. So off we went.
Oh my oh my oh my. Where do I start? It's so lightweight it makes candyfloss feel like concrete. Vacuous plot, vacuous songs, vacuous acting and vacuous singing all makes for a hideous concoction of total (pink) crap. Unless of course, you're a fourteen year old girl in which case it's brilliant. The auditorium was full of those, so there were cheers, whoops and screams throughout. Not surprising as the lead character is modeled on Barbie. I wanted to punch the character that referenced Shakespeare...something close to sacrilege. Anyhoo. Not quite my cup of tea....apologies to The Cat who occasionally reads this. She's 16, not 14.
I wouldn't want you to think I don't like fluffy. I do. I can eat a whole packet of marshmallows in one go. And regularly do. It's probably the marshmallow in it that makes Pfish Food my favourite ice cream.
And talking of Fish, I've been using their deodorant as it works well, smells nice and comes in a nice piece of packaging. Except, that the last two cans have stopped working after a week. I'm not that sweaty and smelly. Really I'm not. I dropped a note to their customer care line and was pleased to get a response...they asked me to let them know which brand as KMI Brands evidently owns lots of them. So I let them know. Absolutely no response whatsoever. So from that I can only conclude they have lots of problems and don't want to deal with them because it's a crap product. So if you see a shiny blue can of Fish deodorant in Boots. Save your money and buy marshmallows instead because Fish stink.
Wednesday, 30 March 2011
Hair today gone tomorrow
Well by some remarkable coincidence, The Gallery this week is about Hare. Which is brilliant because The Cat's Mother collects hares. Yes, sculptures, painting, jewelery, 'objets'...so long as it's got a hare on she has it. Some people would call it an obsession. That's unfair. It's just a hobby. It's just that you can't turn a hair in the house without there being a hare turning its own beady eye at you. If I put up pictures of all the hares in the house and garden, you'd be here all day, so here is a picture I took. I bought the ring for The Cat's Mother for Christmas against the advice of her best friend and sister...evidently she's a 'gold' person not a 'silver' person. But I liked it, really liked it. And she is polite enough to say she likes it too...I think she really does. Through the ring you can see one of the garden hare sculptures...in fact it's a pair of boxing hares. For the technical, it didn't matter what aperture I put the camera on, or the distance/zoom I used, I just couldn't get everything in focus.
mmm someone has just tapped me on the shoulder and told me the actual theme is 'hair' which is slightly annoying. I can't think why you would want a theme like that. But anyway, here's a picture of the one and only time I cut The Boy's hair...it had grown too long at the back, but was fine on the sides and top, so I did my Vidal Sassoon bit. He's never asked me to do it again.
From this:
To this:
mmm someone has just tapped me on the shoulder and told me the actual theme is 'hair' which is slightly annoying. I can't think why you would want a theme like that. But anyway, here's a picture of the one and only time I cut The Boy's hair...it had grown too long at the back, but was fine on the sides and top, so I did my Vidal Sassoon bit. He's never asked me to do it again.
From this:
To this:
Tuesday, 29 March 2011
The Lawnmower Man
It's pretty damned hard to get a job at the moment. Not that I need one; I'm lucky. But I know more than a few who would like to get paid for their endeavours. 'Work experience' is all the rage if you're school age. If you've got a degree, then it's often a full forty hours a week for the honour of being able to show a company how good you are even without the incentive of a few pennies in your pocket.
"I remember when I were a lad", pretty much anyone who wanted to could get a Saturday job. Not these days...there's probably a week long residential course just to see if you're suited to stacking shelves. Such is life under the economic cosh.
The Boy and The Cat have occasional baby-sitting duties amongst friends and family to help them afford the little luxuries that they can't scrounge off me or The Cat's Mother. They get paid handsomely for their troubles, but still they come cap in hand.
For UP's 50th birthday, The Boy and I got him a lawnmower. Silence to all those who say it's the equivalent of getting a woman a blender for her anniversary present. What's wrong with that? He needed one and very fine it is too. It came with a little addition. The Boy. Now, for a small sum every fortnight, The Boy gets to mow UP's lawn. He started on Saturday, and made not a bad job of reducing the jungle to something that would only make the groundsman at Wimbledon blush only slightly.
I felt the need to photograph this momentous event. After all, mowing a lawn is something that every man should be able to do. What I can't figure out though, is why he felt the need to do it hopping.
If only we'd had Tom Jones to help us out
"I remember when I were a lad", pretty much anyone who wanted to could get a Saturday job. Not these days...there's probably a week long residential course just to see if you're suited to stacking shelves. Such is life under the economic cosh.
The Boy and The Cat have occasional baby-sitting duties amongst friends and family to help them afford the little luxuries that they can't scrounge off me or The Cat's Mother. They get paid handsomely for their troubles, but still they come cap in hand.
For UP's 50th birthday, The Boy and I got him a lawnmower. Silence to all those who say it's the equivalent of getting a woman a blender for her anniversary present. What's wrong with that? He needed one and very fine it is too. It came with a little addition. The Boy. Now, for a small sum every fortnight, The Boy gets to mow UP's lawn. He started on Saturday, and made not a bad job of reducing the jungle to something that would only make the groundsman at Wimbledon blush only slightly.
I felt the need to photograph this momentous event. After all, mowing a lawn is something that every man should be able to do. What I can't figure out though, is why he felt the need to do it hopping.
If only we'd had Tom Jones to help us out
Monday, 28 March 2011
Going up, coming down
The lift in our office building speaks with the voice of a Russian prostitute. Or perhaps one of those unfeasibly beautiful Russian spies in a James Bond movie. As I'm not familiar with either, it's just a guess on my part. Anyway, I can't tell you just how excited I get when she says, "Going down".
Oh I just have.
It was fascinating to see the pro-democracy pro economic revivalists rioting/marching at the weekend. It was no surprise to see the forces of government oppression moved in using controversial techniques such as kettling to prevent a quarter of a million people give voice to their feelings. I wonder if the Libyans will be imposing a no fly zone? There are reports today that some members of the Government feel the protests should be more firmly controlled....is it really time for water canons on our streets? I don't think so. We need radical change at Government and economic level, not in policing methods.
I'm not against cuts...we need them, but I suspect that that many of them are being made in the wrong place, and the structure of the civil sector will survive largely intact at the senior end, making it uncomfortably top heavy. It is a measure of the profligacy of Government that the world's sixth largest economy is unable to support itself....that is deeply shaming. Beyond the cuts, the tax burden is being carried unfairly by the likes of you and me...the shallow threats by the financial community and oil companies to up sticks needs to be dealt with...the financiers in particular are once again rolling in hay, ignoring the shit that the rest of us are covered in. It would take international agreement to put them in their place, but then radical measures are called for.
The situation in Libya gets ever-more bizarre. The UK is now suggesting it may arm the rebels. Many of whom are firmly linked to Al Qaeda...and we know where they stand on matters western. Are our politicians absolutely fucking mad? Is the blood-thirsty revenge sought by America and Britain for the Lockerbie outrage and international embarrassment of releasing Abdelbaset Ali al-Megrahi so blind that we will get into bed with the same people that next year will be plotting another terrorist outrage?
Hope you all filled in your census form (unless you're reading this outside the UK, in which case I hope you didn't). I don't know what you thought, but there was no way we could accurately reflect how we spend our working days, because for both The Cat's Mother and I, the traditional structured working environment no longer exists...and that is also the case for many of our friends and contacts. It asked us about how many cars we have, but didn't ask about motorcycles...surely if it's about planning the transport network, they should have been included? And what about bicycles, surely if we're supposed to be getting more environmental, don't they want to know about that? There were numerous other anomalies that make me think that this is a document designed to maintain the status quo rather than plan for the future.
I'm grumpy. It must be Monday morning. I'm going to step back into the lift.
Oh I just have.
It was fascinating to see the pro-democracy pro economic revivalists rioting/marching at the weekend. It was no surprise to see the forces of government oppression moved in using controversial techniques such as kettling to prevent a quarter of a million people give voice to their feelings. I wonder if the Libyans will be imposing a no fly zone? There are reports today that some members of the Government feel the protests should be more firmly controlled....is it really time for water canons on our streets? I don't think so. We need radical change at Government and economic level, not in policing methods.
I'm not against cuts...we need them, but I suspect that that many of them are being made in the wrong place, and the structure of the civil sector will survive largely intact at the senior end, making it uncomfortably top heavy. It is a measure of the profligacy of Government that the world's sixth largest economy is unable to support itself....that is deeply shaming. Beyond the cuts, the tax burden is being carried unfairly by the likes of you and me...the shallow threats by the financial community and oil companies to up sticks needs to be dealt with...the financiers in particular are once again rolling in hay, ignoring the shit that the rest of us are covered in. It would take international agreement to put them in their place, but then radical measures are called for.
The situation in Libya gets ever-more bizarre. The UK is now suggesting it may arm the rebels. Many of whom are firmly linked to Al Qaeda...and we know where they stand on matters western. Are our politicians absolutely fucking mad? Is the blood-thirsty revenge sought by America and Britain for the Lockerbie outrage and international embarrassment of releasing Abdelbaset Ali al-Megrahi so blind that we will get into bed with the same people that next year will be plotting another terrorist outrage?
Hope you all filled in your census form (unless you're reading this outside the UK, in which case I hope you didn't). I don't know what you thought, but there was no way we could accurately reflect how we spend our working days, because for both The Cat's Mother and I, the traditional structured working environment no longer exists...and that is also the case for many of our friends and contacts. It asked us about how many cars we have, but didn't ask about motorcycles...surely if it's about planning the transport network, they should have been included? And what about bicycles, surely if we're supposed to be getting more environmental, don't they want to know about that? There were numerous other anomalies that make me think that this is a document designed to maintain the status quo rather than plan for the future.
I'm grumpy. It must be Monday morning. I'm going to step back into the lift.
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