Half

Evidently, the near end of the Libyan conflict has brought a degree of stability to the markets. Which is odd as Libya supplies at most 2% of the world's oil...which is really just a drop in the ocean. And it's even odder that until this week we have been told that it is the instability in the Eurozone which is at the heart of all our problems, excepting the plodding nature of the American recovery as well. Really, its all a load of old bollocks that the press and the markets talk isn't it?

The countdown is well underway, with just two days until the GCSE results are announced. Here's my dilemma, when I was a lad, they just used to pop through the door with the rest of the post, and when you opened them your mum and dad patted you on the head and said "Well done". These days, the tikes have to make their way to the school to receive their results in person and then celebrate or commiserate with their class mates as appropriate. The parents sit and wait with baited breath. I'm supposed to be in a meeting at THE TIME. Should I cancel the meeting, or should I stay as I am? I'm torn.

The Cat's Mother is a bright, sunny positive person, whereas I'm not. I thought the differences between us were well summed up by my journey home yesterday. I was cycling the 18 miles home, and yesterday was no different to any other in that I regularly get passed by other people. Not club-race fit men in their twenties, but usually fat old ladies pootling along on their bone shakers. Once upon a time it depressed me, but now I just take it in my stride. I know my place and it's not at the Olympic velodrome.

As I passed through Woodford and into Buckhurst Hill, I pulled up at a junction and another cyclist went flying by me. This muscular male on two wheels disappeared into the distance whilst I continued to pootle along the high road and down the hill which takes me into Loughton along the high street before beginning a long, steep climb home. It was at this point I realised that I had just caught up with and then actually overtook the cyclist. I was a little surprised, but I was going quite a bit faster than him. Then I forgot him again until nearing the brow of the hill, behind me I could hear a lot of clanking of changing gears and huffing and puffing, until just near the brow, he went past again.

At home I relayed the tale, and added how ridiculous it was as this guy just hadn't wanted someone going more quickly than him; to me it wasn't a race.

The Cat's Mother, however, pointed out how marvelous it was that I had inspired him.

Now would you mind filling up my glass, it appears half empty

Summer's done

Over here, it's nearly the end of the summer, and over there it's nearly the end of the Arab Spring. Libya is close to being the former country of Colonel Gadaffi, or the country of the former Colonel Gadaffi. Syria might be condemned by "World Leaders" (actually the leaders of Western Democracies) but doesn't show any real signs of change. It seems likely that the additional level of instability which has been added by the events of the last few months may yet come to bit us all...the battling between Israel and Hamas over the recent days has been facilitated at least in part by the lack of iron grip by the Egyptian Authorities.

The Boy has finished his work experience, and has come away with a hoard of new fans. Like us all at his age he stated that he doesn't want to do a 9-5 job...I'm still saying that so I hope he finds a solution to the dilemma of whether to pay the bills or relax and enjoy. He spent Saturday at V Festival, getting drenched to the skin. It made me remember rather wistfully when he and I went off to camp at V Festival three or four years ago, and what a great time we had together. How times have changed...that's the process of growing up I guess.

The Cat is disappointed as her summer is nearly over, but as it's been so action packed I don't think she has too much to complain of. Of course, I remember those long summers that used to go on for ever, and the disappointment that comes with them drawing to a close as September nears. Oh that I could have a long, long summer break now.

The Cat and The Cat's Mother have returned from their French jaunt in Carcasonne. It seemed peaceful and restful, but not full of the ghosts and ghouls of Kate Mosse's books which are set in that region. How disappointing!

The two teens have a week of peace and quiet before they embark on their Silver D of E venture, and it may, finally, give The Cat's Mother and I some well deserved time away together...we deserve and need it.

This weekend, she and I took time out on Sunday afternoon to go for a little trip on a boat on the River Lea...a simple pleasure much enjoyed.

It's what you know

There are some things The Cat's Mother knows and there are some things that I know.

She knows that, in her absence, the house has gone to rack and ruin, the kitchen is a disaster area, the dishes are still dirty, have become mouldy and are walking around the house by themselves, the rubbish lies scattered around the garden, and there are mountains of unwashed clothes beckoning for her domestic hand.

I know that, in her absence, the house has been quiet, the kitchen is as tidy now as when she left, the dishes are neatly stacked in the dishwasher, the rubbish has been taken out and collected by the bin men, and we've washed the clothes we've worn.

I wonder who's right? We'll find out tomorrow.

Two events have dominated my newspaper reading over the last 48 hours, and caused me to reflect on destiny.

Yesterday the Autonomy Corporation was bought by US technology giant Hewlett Packard for a whopping 10.3 billion dollars. That's a lot of dosh. You may not know Autonomy...and why should you? I only know it because the founder, Mike Lynch attended the same school as me, and as The Boy does now. He's four years younger than me and was always a bright spark, getting there on a scholarship (as indeed did I). Not much more to say other than well done...always good to read about someone you know (of) doing well...and as I understand it, he deserved. I'm not sure what he learnt at school that I didn't, but whatever it was, it's served him well.

The other story is the death and repatriation of Lt Dan Clack in Afghanistan. He was just 24, and a very well liked and respected officer. A man of great potential. He's the first Old Bancroftian to have been killed in action since the second world war, and had been at the school between 1998 and 2005. Lieutenant Clack was killed while leading a ten-man patrol into the village of Dactran to speak to the local nationals and discuss a shura due to take place the next day. Approximately 150 metres from the front gate his patrol was struck by an improvised explosive device, killing him and injuring five other members of his patrol. What a terrible tragedy for him, his family and those close to him. I remember when I was at school one of the things I learnt was that Afghanistan was an unconquerable country that was little more than a waste land. It has a tribal system which suits the place; democracy is not a natural fit. So the other part of the tragedy is that he was fighting an unwinnable war trying to impose an alien political system which has been imposed by western political leaders. If only they'd been in the same history lesson as me.

It's all in black and white

When I was younger I thought in black and white. Things were right or wrong, good or bad, left or right. But age and experience has proved otherwise...there was never one moment when The Boy crawled and then walked, when he gurgled and then talked, it would even be difficult to pinpoint the exact moment when his mother moved from life to death.

In our day to day lives, things are rarely just one thing or another. Take the police response to the riots. Evidently their response was too soft. This not long after they were criticised for being too hard at the G20 riots. During the height of the riots there were public calls for the rioters to be hung drawn and quartered, but now the sentences are being handed down, they're being criticised as too harsh. It's not a very black and white issue is it?

Over in north Africa, it seems to have finally registered that the motley band of rebels fighting Gadaffi may not be all that we want them to be. So after millions of £s has been spent supporting a liquorice allsort army the diplomats are now talking about a 'catastrophic victory' which might lead to civil war, or a takeover by islamic extremists. Well I hate to say it (I don't really) but that was bloody obvious months ago. The choice has always been choosing between the lesser of two evils. It's never been a black and white issue.

Now talking of black and white, that's the theme of this week's gallery, so here's a picture I took of St Paul's Cathedral...The Boy and I used to go past it every night when we walked home from my office over The Wobbly Bridge and I loved it. I took it with my mobile phone



This picture though isn't black and white...it's a view of the cranes on the St Petersburg sky line when we were there last year. It's just an illusion as it was taken in full colour on my big Olympus camera.



As I said, things are rarely black and white.

Just ignore Mrs Worthington

The problem with using the name Nota Bene is that when I open up my Hotamil account, the 'system' thinks I'm Italian and offers to translate the whole page for me. It was funny for the first five hundred times, but now the jokes beginning to wear a bit thin. Mama Mia! On the other hand, its probably better than the e-mails that I get from PRs addressing me as Dear Brad presumably because the email address is bradstockboys. If ever I want to change my name to Brad Stockboys, I'll let them know. Or maybe they've seen a passing resemblance to the other famous Brad....its an easy mistake to make.

The Cat's Mother and The Cat are away sunning themselves in France this week, so the mice are out to play. Well, when I say out to play I mean we're eating deep fried frozen pizzas all week, leaving the wrappers all over the sitting room floor whilst slobbing around watching DVDs full of sex and violence. Well, when I say 'we', I mean 'me'. No doubt The Boy will shame me with his goody-two-shoes behaviour. Youth isn't what it used to be.

The Cat's Mother has taken it on herself to make me relive the misery of my (and UP's) 'O' level years by taking us to all the plays we studied for English all those years ago. Shakespeare's Winters Tale is already crossed off the list, as is MacBeth. We've seen an operatic version of Turn of the Screw previously. The Playboy of the Western world is a future 'must see'. This weekend we saw Marlowe's Dr Faustus at The Globe theatre on the South Bank. It was absolutely fantastic...oh that it had been on when I was studying, I may yet improve on my Grade A. If you've never been, and get the chance do go, but make sure you bring a cushion. The afternoon was capped by The Cat bumping into and getting the autograph of Dr Who's assistant. Haven't got a clue about her name, but she's very pleasant, happy to sign away and have her picture taken with hoards of adoring fans...lovely.



This weekend was the finale of The Cat's two weeks course at the National Youth Theatre. She did amazingly well to get a place...the competition was remarkably stiff, but she shone at the auditions. The last two weeks have been a roller coaster of emotions for her, as they built up to this and on Saturday they gave their performance at the National. It was a fabulous thing to see her participate and hopefully this is just the start of a path which will see her dreams come true. If you can spot her in the video, you're doing well...better than I did for half the performance!



Wow, I've reached the end and not a political comment. But I do like Warren Buffet's recent comments which I'm sure apply over here as well as over there.

Statesmanlike?

On a very positive note indeed, the results are in, and I don't have to worry about diabetes...my tests were perfectly normal. May be it really is because the shock that I might be a sufferer made me stop my marshmallow binge. But whatever, it's quite a relief. I have modified my diet, am doing more exercise and hopefully that will relieve me of the higher levels of cholesterol too.

Did you know, or even care, that the battle for the pound in your pocket is being fought by tech giants not through clever marketing, or even fabulous products, but through the law courts? If you could be bothered to spend more than five minutes looking at places like Engadget, Gizmodo or TechRadar (as I do), you'd know that just about all the tech giants such as Apple, Nokia, Samsung and a good deal of other you would never have heard of are busy suing each other for patent infringement. The latest round has seen Apple use he courts to effectively ban a new product from Samsung that would by all accounts knock spots off the iPad. I've no idea about the ins and outs, but I certainly think it's a very sad day when the lawyers start creaming it in when we should all be able to choose what we buy and what we don't. It doesn't bode well for the future. If you're interested, there's more here.

It's hardly a surprise outcome of Carol Vorderman's study into maths education that she recommends that all pupils should study it until the age of 18. Evidently, too many are unable to work out how much change they get from a £50 note after buying a spliff and two hits of crack cocaine. Or how much they should be getting for flogging new trainers down the pub on a Saturday night. News paper reports barely mention the problem is that kids are not able to do even basic maths at the age of sixteen, although they're already being taught trigonometry. Simply requiring schools to teach maths until kids are eighteen sadly misses the point completely. They just need to be taught until they grasp the essentials of maths which get them through life in a modern world. I'd certainly hate to see The Kat and The Boy burdened with an extra two years of maths which they both loathe with a passion, when they have the maths skills they need already.

Equally unsurprisingly, there has been a complete lack of leadership in the UK over the last week or two. I've already mentioned that the government's comment that the downgrading of the US credit rating vindicates our own economic policy. Now David Cameron has come out with the comment that over the last few days, the police "Got riots wrong". I'm not sure of the full context, but that doesn't matter. As a former PR man, he should know and understand the sound-bites the media are looking for....and got in this case. In the face of a very fluid situation, completely outnumbered the police did a remarkable job. But Cameron's comment today follows on from his earlier statements which could have been made by any Daily Mail reader after their morning tea. What we need and want is a Prime Minister who will stand up and set out a vision for the future not make knee-jerk reactionary comments which just fuel the problem. At this time we don't need another middle-management politician, but some one who can make the leap and make the changes the country needs for the better.

If you've got this far, you're doing well.

This week, The Boy has been doing work experience, at one of my clients. That's enough to make anyone nervous, but it seems to be going well. Today he's sitting in a workshop with a rail company, looking at human factors and ergonomics....don't ask! So if your train is late or uncomfortable you know who to blame. Meanwhile,The Cat is pursuing her interests having been selected against fierce competition for a two week course with The National Youth Theatre. If you happen to be passing the National on Saturday at about four-ish, do pop along and give her a bit of encouragement...she deserves it.

In the meantime, here is my list of riot-inspired songs....music is always good at a time of upheaval I find! I had another list but lost it, so have cobbled this together at short notice, so chip in if you have any additions:

Muse - Uprising
The Who - My Generation
Manic Street Preachers - If you tolerate this

10cc- Rubber Bullets

Rage Against The MAchine - Killing in the name

Sex Pistols - Anarchy in the UK

Elton John - Saturday Night's Alright for Fighting

The Prodigy - Firestarter

The Clash - London's Burning

The Smiths - Panic


And finally (of course)

Kaiser Chiefs - I predict a riot

Water

I've not been very good at participating in Tara's gallery recently, but I thought I would this week. I'm a day late, as we were at a funeral yesterday.

This is a series of pictures I call The Swimmer - of course it's The Boy, swimming in Grandma in Cyprus' pool late one evening the first time we had both been there together. There's a slightly eerie, atmospheric feel to the pictures. The pool was the best way to cool off, and a really great thing to have in such sunny climes and Grandma in Cyprus swims regularly to keep fit. The dragonflies like to sunbathe beside it, and the pool has been known to overflow when it rains too much. Cyprus has been going through a drought, but the desalination plants make all the difference now.

The end of the world as we know it

Wow what an evening that was. Absolutely incredible. Terrible. Never seen anything like it....well not since the Brixton riots of the Thatcher years. I guess it couldn't have come at a worse time, but then equally I guess, the rising temperature of the summer hasn't helped.

I'd been saying to The Cat's Mother that things were getting overheated, and if we weren't careful we'd get burned.

And sure enough that was the case. Things went into melt down last night didn't they?

We were lucky, I guess, that we caught it early on, but there'll be some clearing up to do, that's for sure. We worked late into the night trying to sort things out. I didn't realise it would be so difficult, nor did The Cat's Mother.

You'd have thought that where we lived, we'd have been immune from problems. But I guess even the middle classes can't cosset themselves away from the troubles of a modern world.

We didn't realise there was a problem until we opened the door, but then it was obvious. Mess everywhere. I slammed the door as quick as I could, hoping that would help chill things off. But really when these things happen, you know there's nothing to be done.

Except buy a new freezer.

Yes, typically our freezer died yesterday, leaving the thing full of defrosted ice cream, pizzas, meats and heaven only knows what else. Not that finding a new one was as easy as we were expecting - we have an American-style one, and I guess like all things American they have got bigger in the last eight years. And have you tried to get a white one? We did manage it eventually, after a couple of hours of trawling the internet. Of the 54 American-style fridge-freezers offered by Appliances Online, only one fitted the bill, or would fit through the door. It'll be delivered on Thursday.

Meanwhile, I can report that the very thick clouds of smoke which deposited ash all over our cars this morning, were simply the result of a barn fire. Epping Forest is not really that prone to inner-city rioting, although in Buckhurst Hill a designer dress shop was broken into. Setting fire to the place would have been unfeasible...it may have melted their spray on tans.

I'm still trying to quite understand the man I overheard on his mobile as I cycled home along the canal, skirting round the Hackney and Bethnal Green trouble spots. "Yeah, they're laying a gun on him" I heard. I don't want to think about it....we've enough problems as it is.

A fat poof in a dress for Sunday lunch*

We can probably all be grateful this morning that it's a pretty lousy summer this year. Cold, damp weather is the best weapon the police have for managing riots, and we've had both in abundance. If you've ever been up to Tottenham, you'll know it's not somewhere you'd want a Sunday picnic. There's an undercurrent of crime just waiting to bubble up to the surface, and this weekend it came. I'm not going to point the finger of blame, nor am I really well placed to analyse the causes, but it's probably fair to say that where there's poverty and inequality there's crime. It's hardly surprising to see the list of other areas that saw copycat rioting and looting.

Some would say, that we are suffering from a lack of leadership...with inner-city districts being being engulfed in flames and shops emptied in the ensuing chaos, and with the world's global markets in melt down. I don't begrudge politicians their holidays, but really sometimes what is needed is for one of our elected leaders to stand up and be counted, rather than continue sipping their cappuccinos in Tuscany. If the markets continue in the direction they're heading we're all in hot water. It was hardly the most statesman like comment to be made that the downgrading of the US credit rating was 'vindication of the UK's approach'.

It was a very happpy moment when The Boy returned from his travels and gave us all a big hug. Despite listening to him for most of Saturday, and seeing his 365 photos (he caught the habit from me I think), I suspect we're still waiting to get the juiciest stories. Over half the touring group went down with tummy bugs of one sort or another, there was heat, there was humidity, there were injuries (but not to The Boy), but there was most of all camaraderie, and the opportunity to do some coaching with Tamils in Sri Lanka...it was this that I think was the highlight for The Boy. He seemed genuinely moved and proud that they could give something back to one of their host countries. He did very well himself, captaining the seconds team twice and playing for the firsts for the first time...and winning an award for 'most improved player'. He won a second award too - for most peculiar purchase: a fake Louis Vuitton suitcase for The Cat's Mother. None of us were short of gifts, including more fake LV goodies, Oakley sunglasses, Hard Rock T-shirts, Armani tie and cufflinks...and so on!

Not surprisingly, he was exhausted after his very long travels, so it was an early night for him on Saturday.

Sunday saw The Cats Mother and I out at a friends 60th birthday celebration lunch. As you would expect, the hall was decked out in fuscia pink feather boas. Amongst the people there was a lad who had appeared on The Apprentice...he seemed a really nice lad, and someone else who had been a guest at Amy Winehouse's funeral, but I'm not sure that counts as mixing with celebrities. The surprise entertainment was indeed 'A fat poof in a dress' (*that was his/her description of himself rather than any comment made by me). Our drag queen provided the perfect entertainment by crooning some great show tunes. It may not be our usual Sunday lunchtime, but was absolutely great entertainment. And some real light relief whilst we're in choppy waters.

Saturday shots

My monthly round up of the pictures I've taken. It's amazing to look back over the last 31 days and see how much we've done...I shall so enjoy looking at these in twenty years time and remembering 'the good old days'. I've been using my phone a lot to take pictures with a technique called HDR, hence all the very saturated colours.


The windsock in front of the Regency crescent where we live in Brighton. If you look carefully there's a ghost of what looks like a coke can in the sky

Sunset out of our back window in Brighton

Mushroom stall in Borough Market

Borough Market flower shop. Keen Harry Potter film goers may just recognise this building

Candle on restaurant table

Chichester Cathedral

Reflections in the Regency Canal

At Hackney Wicked festival, the biggest Stick street art ever

River Lee by the Olympic Stadium

Canoeing on the river (not us!)

Inside these drawers are posters from the London Underground

On the beach...south bank of the River Thames...he was sculpting a shark

Squid at Borough Market

London smoked salmon at H Formans

The Cat on the paddloes in Brighton

The crowd at the FooFighters...it's heavily edited to get this result

Chichester Cathedral

My birthday present...my own Roas drawn on old hanging files, now framed and ready for hanging

Brighton Beach

Sunset in Brighton

Oysters...yummy!

Self-portrait

Brighton beach huts

Did you ever get one of these for valentines? Love lies bleeding: the flowers when they come drip 'blood'

At Hurts in Somerset House...red ticker tape as the finale

More beach huts

No month is complete without some street art

More street art beside the River Lee

The valentine plant flowers...aren't they stunning?

An art project called Bow Bells

Spiderman

They say you can't buck the market, and that's certainly the case at the moment. But in a world where profits can be made by driving prices down as well as up, and the truly important test of performance for a financial trader is the profit at the end of the day, we are seeing the global economy throttled. A phrase that I have seen too much of recently is that when governments came riding to the rescue of the banks in 2008, it simply transferred the debt from being a banking problem to being a sovereign one. Since then we've seen banks (I include that any financial organisation) make £billions and bankers pocket £millions. In the meantime, anyone outside the bankers bubble has seen their effective incomes drop, quite possibly they've lost their job, and prices for even the most essential items such as food and fuel rise, whilst their pensions have been eroded.

Alongside this debacle are the politicians who've helped get us into this pickle...firstly by creating the conditions over the last twenty years whereby the the financiers could wheel and deal with impunity, and then once we the crash happened by failing to take the necessary steps to reform the global financial sector from top to bottom. They continue to run scared of the Bob Diamonds of this world who weal enormous financial clout without any sense of responsibility...and as we all know with great power comes great responsibility...or not if you're a banker. Politicians of all colours have shown no sense of leadership, have failed to recognise that the system is broken and needs to be tossed away to be replaced by something that works for the majority, not the selfish minority.

Phew...thank heavens that's off my chest. Last night we were out with one of my oldest friends - The Creative Director (TCD) and his girlfriend (PE) who is a picture editor at news organisation that specialises in listening to people's phone messages. The Cat's Mother asked me what a creative director is, so I explained "he draws pictures" which is a lie, because actually he tells other people to draw pictures. In the past, I've been known to rock home from evenings out with TCD in a 'bit of a state', but last night we were all grown up.

The great thing about old friends is the memories that go with them. TCD has a chip on his shoulder. Literally. One weekend more years ago than I recall TCD and PE were down in Brighton for the weekend. We spent a hot sunny day on the beach drinking beer. Slowly. But the effect was unfortunate. We got it into our heads that it would be really funny to go into the Kentucky Fried Chicken and ask for a 'Schlongburger'. We did, and rolled around in hysterics before we were less than politely asked to leave. As we headed back to the flat TCD tripped up the curb and went down with the most almighty crash. We laughed. Boy did we all laugh as we staggered up the stairs. I guess the pain came on the next day, but he never went off to the doctors, and that's why his left shoulder has a big lump on it, even today.

The other story that we had to recount for The Cat's Mother's benefit was about PE's friend who one day ended up with a mouthful of pigs semen. But I realise you're all to busy to sit and read about that.

Anyway poor TCD had been made redundant earlier this year from his high-powered international job. It happens (see above). Two days before they exchanged on a new flat. They went ahead none the less, and since then he's kept himself busy with freelance work. Let's hope it continues and someone kicks the bankers in the goolies rather than allow them to mess up everyone else's lives.

In lieu of First Friday Photos tomorrow will be 'Saturday Shots', if I can cram it in before The Boy re-materialises. I'm not really sure where he is at the moment, but I have a feeling he has air under his feet rather than solid earth.

On yer bike

So the markets have started gunning for Italy and Spain now. I'm the last to suggest that their economies are in the best shape, but it does seem that private speculators are hell bent on achieving financial collapse for their own personal benefit. The EU has expressed concern. But what is abundantly clear is that a combination of greedy financiers and poor political leadership is creating a vicious circle that could create economic conflagration, mass unemployment and poverty not seen before. It's been the way for a long time to let the markets decide, but really the time has come for that to stop. That will involve massive reform of the international system...but as the American budget debacle shows, that reform is long overdue.

For the last four years, people have given me a funny look when I've told them that I cycle the eighteen miles to work on a mountain bike. Truth be told, my enthusiasm for it has been getting less and less, especially since we moved to Loughton and the hill at the end of the return journey is like a mountain to me. So my fitness has been tailing off. If I did the journey by road it's a lot shorter, but I much prefer going down the side of the canals and past the Olympic site which is a quite beautiful way of staying countryfied all the way into the centre of town. But as the paths are mud tracks I've had no choice but to use the heavy mountain bike. Until now. The paths have been resurfaced as part of the improvements by the Olympic committee and it's now much smoother, so I've splashed out on a lovely racing bike which is so light I can lift it with one finger. It's beautiful and once again I can get myself fit again. Which is a good thing.

I mentioned in this post about going for a check up by Life Line Screening. The initial results had looked OK to me (I am a Doctor, but a Doctor of Spin so maybe I'm not entirely qualified to make medical judgements), but as I had to pop into the doctor I showed him the final results that had been sent to me. I also mentioned my brother's heart attacks. I wouldn't quite say he panicked, but his air of professional disinterest changed completely. He immediately prescribed statins to reduce my cholesterol, and sent me off to get another blood test because my previous results showed a high likelihood of diabetes.

I took a decision about the statins...not to start taking them at the moment but rather try and tackle the problem with a better diet (one that doesn't involve a packet of marshmallows every day), but will keep it under review. I went for the blood tests yesterday, but hope that everything will be OK. I'll know in a couple of days. It's a nuisance really. But does make me really pleased that Life Line Screening made the offer...and re-inforces my feeling that if you reach a 'certain' age, then it is more than sensible to get a check up, whether by them, another private service or your own doctor.

The Boy meantime will be back on Saturday, and is currently enjoying some r'n'r on Bintan Island, wherever that is. After the depression of losing their last match has worn off, he seems to have cheered up by doing some watersports and riding an electric motorbike. He keeps mentioning it's very expensive. I don't know what on earth he means.

Time

A couple of years back, before The Cat's Mother and I were an item I was invited along to a fabulous party she had organised to celebrate her birthday. It was held in the garden under a glorious marquee, the disco played and the wine and champagne flowed all night. It was glitzy and glamorous and I new practically no one. But I do remember a very drunk man singing and dancing and celebrating louder and more wildly than anyone else there.

As The Cat's Mother and I grew closer and I became part of the wider circle of friends, I was re-introduced to this man. He was a character, a man who lived life to the full and treasured every moment. For him every moment of life was to be enjoyed to the max. A glass half full kind of person. A person who could bring a smile to everyone's faces through a quick quip or a jaunty jibe. Not a bad bone in him. He burnt the candle at both ends and in the middle as well.

He was part of our group which went off to Russia, and led the celebrations on our sleeper train late into the night, early into the morning. He was one of two that went in search of a kebab along the rest of the train, and was literally kicked down the corridor by a small blond female trainguard who probably spent her spare time throwing the hammer. And sickle. Fortunately there was enough of us that we had the carriage to ourselves and didn't disturb another soul. You may pick him out in the picture above. When we left another female trainguard who in her spare time clearly throws the discus said (phonetically) 'Shobar' which became the 'word of the holiday' even after our tour guide told us it's meaning and we had to hang our heads in shame. Later on that holiday, at the Space Museum and afterwards, he kept us more than entertained with impressions of dogs hanging their heads out of the windows of cars with the wind blowing their ears as they traveled to the space centre to be blasted into space.

Earlier this year, he danced 'til dawn at our New Year celebration, and kept the men in the winning position for the 'hat game' (you know where names go on pieces of paper in a hat and when pulled out you have to give clues...it's known by a million different names) against the cheating women. And again at UP's amazing birthday celebrations he didn't hold back in helping things go with a swing.

It may be just that he knew his time was limited because he'd grown up with a rare illness, one that gradually ate him up from the inside, that he made the most of his time. Or it may be that he was just someone who knew how to enjoy himself and bring a smile to those around him. This year, he went rapidly down hill, but that didn't stop the humour until yesterday when it stopped. Full stop. He wasn't yet 50.

I bet heaven is a riot today.

Poggy's tail

If you've got a little spare cash...and that's a big IF these days isn't it?...I'd highly recommend a couple of books by Paul Talling...one called Derelict London, and the other London's Lost Rivers. I can't say why the decay of one of the world's great cities holds such fascination for me, but it does, and both these books capture it well, mostly in pictures.

And I guess it's my fascination with seeing odd bits of London that means that when we took our guests into town this weekend we went a rather obscure way...by car, tube, Light railway, boat and finally Shanksy's pony. They're English, but live in Berlin, so they are strangers in their own country, and it was interesting to hear how Queen2B and The Prince viewed this country...a lot more positively than any one else I know does. Even the Italian who sat next to me, was jabbering on about how marvelous our our public transport system is. Mind you, when you've got a slimy dirty old man in charge of your country, you can't expect all to be right can you? I guess that's the benefit of seeing in from the outside. It's not that I don't appreciate all the good things that England has, but there are just too many downsides too.

One of those moments, and I don't doubt that it is one that you had to be there to fully appreciate, was a story that Queen2B told, about how when she was much, much younger, she played with the children of a very upper class family. In true upper class fashion, they were all as mad as a box of frogs, and all the children had been given ridiculous nick names. I would recount them all, but a couple of glasses of wine has made me forget all except one - Poggy. Dear Poggy was evidently a sweet little girl, but unfortunately her bottom kept falling out. I don't mean she dropped her knickers or her trousers, I mean erm, err, erm her bottom kept dropping out. The first time this happened when Queen2B, who was just eightish, was looking after her, Queen2B had not been warned. So was somewhat non-plussed when Poggy asked her to scoop it back....I'm sure it was terrible, but on a Sunday afternoon by the canal, we giggled like we shouldn't. Like I said you had to be there. Poggy evidently runs a shop on the south coast now, so hopefully in her middle age it's all been sorted.

Saturday we did an off-beat tourist tour which took in Borough Market, and ended up at the fabulous production of War Horse which is still running. Again, if you have any spare pennies, it's money well spent....taking puppetry to a new level. I wish the Boy had been here to see it too, but he was supping at Raffles in Singapore. That's something I've never achieved...yet!

Sunday, was entirely given over to food...firstly at my favourite restaurant - Formans -who had failed to return six phone calls and three messages. That's true English service for you. We then moved on to another place, also on the Canal 'Olive E2' where the service couldn't have been more attentive...that's southern European service for you.

A sleepless Sunday night meant that I was up and awake to hear the Americans announce that they'd finally decided to stop arsing around and would sort out their budget issues. All around me I could hear the world breath a collective sigh of relief. But the net result in the long term will undoubtedly be to hasten America's decline as the world's leading (in fact only) superpower. That will be interesting for future generations. I wonder how that looks from Singapore?