There are some bizarre people in the industry I work in. On Friday I received an e-mail from someone I've known for sometime....many years in fact...saying that although it was short notice, was I free to meet on Monday. I replied yes, and have heard nothing since. Not bad, but the same person contacted me several months ago suggesting we meet up, to which I responded yes that would be excellent...I heard no more so re-contacted him, to which the reply had been he didn't know what I was talking about. One of us is mad.
It was a cruel irony that the one person in our house that truly loves the snow was in the only place in the UK which had none over the weekend. Instead The Boy was getting drowned in a tropical monsoon in Devon on his Geography field trip. We were out at the school inter-house drama competition on Saturday night as the snow started to fall. As parents we are weak and after The Cat performed we sneaked of for a sneaky pizza. The consequence was that by the time we got back The Cat had been awarded 'Best Supporting Actor', and The Boy's House had won the competition. I put that down as a parental fail.
It's a remarkable loss when The Boy is not around. Last year when the snow fell we were all marched out into the forest whilst The Boy strapped on his skis and went for a fun ski. This year, and in his absence, we were at the shops and bought a fun sledge, which has remained resolutely in the back of the Jeep whilst we remained resolutely in the warm inside the house. I think that's our loss, as the snow is now melting away so the opportunity this year may have slipped out of our grasp. We had been scheduled to drive up to Cambridge, but even in The Tank that is the Jeep it didn't seem sensible. So the day was spent sorting out ski wear for next week and cooking a lovely piece of beef for the evening. The Boy's energy and enthusiasm can be a pain sometimes, but it's at times like this that I really appreciate how motivating his enthusiasm can be. Here's last year's video of him skiing in Epping Forest.
And again here
Monday, 6 February 2012
Saturday, 4 February 2012
Revenge is a dish best served cold
There appears to be a different value system operating in Government compared to International Football doesn't there?
The pretty objectionable John Terry apparently refused to stand down as England captain because he claims to be innocent. He'll stand trial after the Euro finals which evidently take place this summer (had you forgotten/don't care/been overwhelmed by the excitement of of the Olympics). "Innocent until proven guilty" I hear declared. It will indeed be several months before we find out whether he can add racism to his list of sins. It does seem that the Terry family is a pretty awful one, and its probably fortunate that they have a footballing talent otherwise who knows what they'd be doing to terrorise the neighbours. So forced to go he was by the FA, which is hardly renowned for its ability to manage a p*ss up in a brewery. It took several months for the FA to come to this decision, and until the last few hours their position appeared to be that unless and until he was convicted, he could stay in his elevated role. By any measure he can't be that good a captain anyway given the amount of silverware on the England dressing room mantlepiece.
By comparison Chris Huhne, who also protests his innocence, has resigned immediately on being charged of getting his (ex) wife to take the points for a motoring offence. A very middle class crime. I hear that as a Minister he is pretty good at his job, so you can probably assume that his loss is our loss. He has consistently proclaimed his innocence and intends to prove it in court. Or at least prove that he can't be proven guilty. Government circles, or at least political commentators had made it clear in recent days that should he be charged he would be sacked, so his decision to resign was an astute one.
For different people Huhne and Terry are both role models, and it fascinates me to see how each, and their employers, have responded to their situation.
I wonder how Vicky Price is feeling this evening. As I understand it, it was her position as spurned wife that started the ball rolling. She was the one that told the papers that he had asked her to take the points and she had agreed. We've all been dumped at some stage in our lives, and we've all (well me at least) have thought of revenge as the route to follow. But generally after a chat with Best Friend down the pub and a few whiskeys we've realised that acting in the heat of the moment is not sensible. I suspect she is regretting her actions (the big caveat here is that I am assuming that I have understood what she did correctly). She is being prosecuted for the same crime as her ex-husband - the very serious offence of perverting the course of justice. If he is convicted then inevitably so will she. So at that level it may feel that things have backfired. But if he is found not guilty, she will be viewed in a pretty poor light indeed. Her stock will have fallen. For her I just can't see an upside to any of this. So the moral must be 'Think before you jump'.
Interestingly I read another press article today that suggested that the best revenge for a spurned partner is success...and that's something from personal experience I can whole heartedly agree with that...after The Boy's mother and I divorced, that seemed to spur me on, and my greatest work success was in the years following. I was never conscious of it, but I guess looking back, subconsciously I was there trying (and succeeding) in proving something.
The pretty objectionable John Terry apparently refused to stand down as England captain because he claims to be innocent. He'll stand trial after the Euro finals which evidently take place this summer (had you forgotten/don't care/been overwhelmed by the excitement of of the Olympics). "Innocent until proven guilty" I hear declared. It will indeed be several months before we find out whether he can add racism to his list of sins. It does seem that the Terry family is a pretty awful one, and its probably fortunate that they have a footballing talent otherwise who knows what they'd be doing to terrorise the neighbours. So forced to go he was by the FA, which is hardly renowned for its ability to manage a p*ss up in a brewery. It took several months for the FA to come to this decision, and until the last few hours their position appeared to be that unless and until he was convicted, he could stay in his elevated role. By any measure he can't be that good a captain anyway given the amount of silverware on the England dressing room mantlepiece.
By comparison Chris Huhne, who also protests his innocence, has resigned immediately on being charged of getting his (ex) wife to take the points for a motoring offence. A very middle class crime. I hear that as a Minister he is pretty good at his job, so you can probably assume that his loss is our loss. He has consistently proclaimed his innocence and intends to prove it in court. Or at least prove that he can't be proven guilty. Government circles, or at least political commentators had made it clear in recent days that should he be charged he would be sacked, so his decision to resign was an astute one.
For different people Huhne and Terry are both role models, and it fascinates me to see how each, and their employers, have responded to their situation.
I wonder how Vicky Price is feeling this evening. As I understand it, it was her position as spurned wife that started the ball rolling. She was the one that told the papers that he had asked her to take the points and she had agreed. We've all been dumped at some stage in our lives, and we've all (well me at least) have thought of revenge as the route to follow. But generally after a chat with Best Friend down the pub and a few whiskeys we've realised that acting in the heat of the moment is not sensible. I suspect she is regretting her actions (the big caveat here is that I am assuming that I have understood what she did correctly). She is being prosecuted for the same crime as her ex-husband - the very serious offence of perverting the course of justice. If he is convicted then inevitably so will she. So at that level it may feel that things have backfired. But if he is found not guilty, she will be viewed in a pretty poor light indeed. Her stock will have fallen. For her I just can't see an upside to any of this. So the moral must be 'Think before you jump'.
Interestingly I read another press article today that suggested that the best revenge for a spurned partner is success...and that's something from personal experience I can whole heartedly agree with that...after The Boy's mother and I divorced, that seemed to spur me on, and my greatest work success was in the years following. I was never conscious of it, but I guess looking back, subconsciously I was there trying (and succeeding) in proving something.
Friday, 3 February 2012
The third way
Wednesday I shirked. No two ways about it. I skived.
After riding my motorbike down a narrow, twisting country lane which was more ice than tarmac to the garage that will service and MOT it, The Cat's Mother and I headed down to sunny Brighton.
It wasn't that we had any particular reason to go there, other than water the plants and check that the beach was still there.
And when we arrived, The Cat's Mother cooked some lovely poached eggs on toast (with Gentleman's Relish) whilst I busied myself wiring up the loudspeakers for the new AV amp we'd bought. After that we wandered into the town centre picked up some bits and bobs before heading to our favourite restaurant - La Cave a Fromage where we sat for a couple of hours chit chatting whilst enjoying the finest cheeses, charcuterie and red wine.
What an utterly extravagant, luxurious and wonderful thing to do. And it serves to remind me of why I do what I do for a living. I may not be the best paid, but working for myself I have the opportunity to be utterly indulgent. I can decide what I'm going to do and when I'm going to do it. How many people can say that? I'm so very, very lucky.
Anyway, here's a few photos...January has not been a good month on the picture front
Just another gorgeous sunset - 2011 was a great year for sunrises and sunsets, and 2012 is looking similar
Well it's a view of the Olympic park, obviously
Mathilda - do go and see this if you can!
They breed strange frogs around here
Piccadily Circus
Crab apples on the ground in January...is that right
The force is with me
Well it's just trees....
Sitting here in my ivory tower, I continue to ponder the concept of Scottish independence. Interestingly, I read that more English are in favour of Scottish independence than the Scots. Apparently we've got fed up with their whinging and whining. It seems bizarre to me, but I accept that the Scottish themselves feel they are a breed a part fully deserving and needing their own government. They may be right, but as I come from a mind set that the lees a government interferes in my life the better, it's hard for me to grasp why. Down in London, you can feel the groans going on but you don't get a feeling that someone has grasped the nettle and said, OK this is an issue and we need to deal with it. Instead, like a truculent child the politicians are dragging their feet without really offering whilst Mr Salmon makes the running. At the moment we (in fact not we...just the Scots) are being offered two alternatives - an independent Scotland or maintain the status quo. It seems Mr Salmond would like to put 'max devolution' on the table which as I understand it is like having your haggis and eating it.. But what we're talking about here is not just Scottish independence, it's about the break up the the United Kingdom, so it's hard to say it's not an issue for all of us. So perhaps it's time for Clegg and Cameron to get their act together and look properly at the future of the UK. Why not throw it all up in the air and go for a whole new approach. A federal system - regional governments for each of the UK's constituent parts - it works elsewhere and who knows might get rid of that chip on the shoulder that the Scots have as each of the constituent parts would all be equals and responsible for their own destinies. Anyway, just a thought. Grandma in Cyprus I think has had enough of my political chit chat for now!
After riding my motorbike down a narrow, twisting country lane which was more ice than tarmac to the garage that will service and MOT it, The Cat's Mother and I headed down to sunny Brighton.
It wasn't that we had any particular reason to go there, other than water the plants and check that the beach was still there.
And when we arrived, The Cat's Mother cooked some lovely poached eggs on toast (with Gentleman's Relish) whilst I busied myself wiring up the loudspeakers for the new AV amp we'd bought. After that we wandered into the town centre picked up some bits and bobs before heading to our favourite restaurant - La Cave a Fromage where we sat for a couple of hours chit chatting whilst enjoying the finest cheeses, charcuterie and red wine.
What an utterly extravagant, luxurious and wonderful thing to do. And it serves to remind me of why I do what I do for a living. I may not be the best paid, but working for myself I have the opportunity to be utterly indulgent. I can decide what I'm going to do and when I'm going to do it. How many people can say that? I'm so very, very lucky.
Anyway, here's a few photos...January has not been a good month on the picture front
Sitting here in my ivory tower, I continue to ponder the concept of Scottish independence. Interestingly, I read that more English are in favour of Scottish independence than the Scots. Apparently we've got fed up with their whinging and whining. It seems bizarre to me, but I accept that the Scottish themselves feel they are a breed a part fully deserving and needing their own government. They may be right, but as I come from a mind set that the lees a government interferes in my life the better, it's hard for me to grasp why. Down in London, you can feel the groans going on but you don't get a feeling that someone has grasped the nettle and said, OK this is an issue and we need to deal with it. Instead, like a truculent child the politicians are dragging their feet without really offering whilst Mr Salmon makes the running. At the moment we (in fact not we...just the Scots) are being offered two alternatives - an independent Scotland or maintain the status quo. It seems Mr Salmond would like to put 'max devolution' on the table which as I understand it is like having your haggis and eating it.. But what we're talking about here is not just Scottish independence, it's about the break up the the United Kingdom, so it's hard to say it's not an issue for all of us. So perhaps it's time for Clegg and Cameron to get their act together and look properly at the future of the UK. Why not throw it all up in the air and go for a whole new approach. A federal system - regional governments for each of the UK's constituent parts - it works elsewhere and who knows might get rid of that chip on the shoulder that the Scots have as each of the constituent parts would all be equals and responsible for their own destinies. Anyway, just a thought. Grandma in Cyprus I think has had enough of my political chit chat for now!
Thursday, 2 February 2012
It's a journey
I'm wondering how Mr Goodwin is feeling at the moment. Not as bad as I would hope I suspect. He was a greedy little man with no social or public conscience. He no doubt gambled that reducing the size of his pension would close the matter and the fact that it didn't he'll just put down to miscalculation. A small mistake. Nothing more than that. It is so interesting that there has been quite a backlash against the removal of his knighthood. Was he being made a scape goat? No, but it was certainly a symbolic gesture...and that's something that every person who has lost their livelihood either directly or indirectly needs. The fact that The City is bleating really only goes to prove how out of touch it is with the world outside its own little bubble and the general sentiment of people who have had to live with the worries of recession for four years now. I understand an honours system that rewards public service, I almost understand an honours system that rewards for success outside of public service, but anything other than that is beyond me completely. I'd like to see every honour that's been awarded to a banker in that last ten years reviewed, but that would be too much. I'd also like to see Mr Goodwin redeem himself and devote the rest of his life to public or charitable service. But I don't think he will...he's just a greedy little man and I doubt it would occur to him to make that journey. Interestingly David Cameron is missing a massive trick here - if he was as bright as he thinks he is he could gain much public sympathy by taking it as an opportunity to remind The City that it was in large part their fault that we are all under the economic cosh now, that it needs to be a valuable and supportive part of the wider UK economy as a whole and that he is defending The City from European tax threats. He'd certainly garner wide spread support.
I was reading today about James Hewitt....I was interested in seeing that Prince Harry says that his Grandmother can't manage without her Prince Charming...and got distracted by Googling 'Prince Harry's Father' when I should have been working. It was just an idle moment as I don't care one way or the other. Anyway nothing much new on that front, but I did find a quote where Hewitt says "I probably owe my life to my mother". Really??
I'm a bad man. Very bad indeed. Just before Christmas I was approached by the PR folks at Sea-Band who asked if we'd like to test their bands. These things provide "Effective relief of motion sickness, morning sickness and cancer nausea and vomiting, Sea-Band provides a drug free choice without causing drowsiness or other side effects." They claim. Now when I was a lad, I had to take a really bitter little pill - I suspect that it worked on the principle that you became so focused on the horrible taste that you forgot about feeling sick. As a baby, The Boy was terrible - I remember well one journey to Grandma in Cyprus Not in Cyprus when he managed to throw up more than half a dozen times before we'd reached the end of the road. On another occasion he managed to redecorate the inside of a brand new car (just 12 miles on the clock) which I'd hired for a weekend. Fortunately we're all over that now, but The Muffins are Puketastic. They can't even manage a simple tube journey without turning green. So I took up the offer and then gave them to the girls. Remarkably they work. I've no idea how or why, but they do. We are no longer Vom Central when we travel together and that makes everyone happy bunnies. It will make us all jolly smiley when we head off skiing in a couple of weeks...and the other passengers around us just won't realise how lucky they are. I'd completely forgotten about them, so feel a little guilty...but that has nothing to do with me wholeheartedly recommending them for anyone who gets queasy enroute from AtoB.
Tomorrow, The Boy is off on a school trip down to Devon. As usual with school trips we have to be there at a ridiculously early time. In this case 5.50. I'll be cold and tired and grumpy. He'll be all excited and enthusiastic. Such is the beauty of youth. Rather than return home, I'll head on into the office. Around here I'll be lucky to find a coffee shop open at that time, so I expect to be found when everyone else arrives at 9, sound asleep snoring with my head on my desk.
I was reading today about James Hewitt....I was interested in seeing that Prince Harry says that his Grandmother can't manage without her Prince Charming...and got distracted by Googling 'Prince Harry's Father' when I should have been working. It was just an idle moment as I don't care one way or the other. Anyway nothing much new on that front, but I did find a quote where Hewitt says "I probably owe my life to my mother". Really??
I'm a bad man. Very bad indeed. Just before Christmas I was approached by the PR folks at Sea-Band who asked if we'd like to test their bands. These things provide "Effective relief of motion sickness, morning sickness and cancer nausea and vomiting, Sea-Band provides a drug free choice without causing drowsiness or other side effects." They claim. Now when I was a lad, I had to take a really bitter little pill - I suspect that it worked on the principle that you became so focused on the horrible taste that you forgot about feeling sick. As a baby, The Boy was terrible - I remember well one journey to Grandma in Cyprus Not in Cyprus when he managed to throw up more than half a dozen times before we'd reached the end of the road. On another occasion he managed to redecorate the inside of a brand new car (just 12 miles on the clock) which I'd hired for a weekend. Fortunately we're all over that now, but The Muffins are Puketastic. They can't even manage a simple tube journey without turning green. So I took up the offer and then gave them to the girls. Remarkably they work. I've no idea how or why, but they do. We are no longer Vom Central when we travel together and that makes everyone happy bunnies. It will make us all jolly smiley when we head off skiing in a couple of weeks...and the other passengers around us just won't realise how lucky they are. I'd completely forgotten about them, so feel a little guilty...but that has nothing to do with me wholeheartedly recommending them for anyone who gets queasy enroute from AtoB.
Tomorrow, The Boy is off on a school trip down to Devon. As usual with school trips we have to be there at a ridiculously early time. In this case 5.50. I'll be cold and tired and grumpy. He'll be all excited and enthusiastic. Such is the beauty of youth. Rather than return home, I'll head on into the office. Around here I'll be lucky to find a coffee shop open at that time, so I expect to be found when everyone else arrives at 9, sound asleep snoring with my head on my desk.
Monday, 30 January 2012
The Long View
What a Muppet Mr Hester is. He has at last decided to give up his million pound bonus, but the damage is already done. The general population (including myself) is up in arms about greedy bankers yet again, the politicians have been embarrassed and the bank's reputation has hit the floor again. By Sunday he would have been better to have decided to stick it out. When Barclay's Bob Diamond's bonus is announced, his £1 million will look like peanuts. Better still he should have come out when the controversy first broke and said he will fore go the shares. He doesn't need the money...his salary alone if £1.2 million, and last year he picked up a cool £2 million bonus. He will never spend it. Never. So it's all about greed. Or willy waving in the company of other bankers who are all over paid. Pure and simple. If he can't even figure out that his remuneration will cause a furore then what is he doing in charge of the bank which cost as all a fortune to save?
As a side swipe, I gather the SNP wants the oil, but doesn't want the bank. You can't have it both ways Alex.
I'm, still resisting the download revolution for my music. CDs are the thing...and if I had my way, probably still vinyl. The sound quality is better, and I'm still a fan of a nice album sleeve, particularly if it comes with the lyrics or any other goodies. I've been eagerly awaiting the album from Lana Del Ray which promptly popped on to the door mat on Saturday, a couple of days before official release day. Thank you Play.com. I'll ignore all the controversy around her - she's not the first and won't be the last 'image enhanced' pop star; it's a very good album. But a strange thing, if I try and put it on the computer so I can transfer it to my phone, iTunes doesn't give me the name of the songs, the artist or the album title. Assuming that Apple hasn't taken ag'in' her, I can only assume its because the data doesn't go on to the database until 'official' launch...I wait with baited breath for tomorrow.
It was a busy weekend for the youngsters - they were busy escorting parents and potential pupils around the school on Saturday. One of the tasks was to help the arrivals park (parents not small children) and it's interesting that even at this stage, the parents were showing signs of stress...hurling abuse at the sixth formers when all the parking spaces were full. Nice. It wasn't like that in my day, and I don't think it should be like that now. Don't you fear for the teachers if these kids get in and then need to be disciplined?
A splendid view across London towards The Shard - standing heads and shoulders above everything else.
Whilst The Boy was at his girlfriend's mother's birthday lunch, we took The Cat for a National Youth Theatre audition down in Dulwich. I know the area only as a place to pass through (and for a few parties that that are best not mentioned), and had forgotten just how hilly it is. I thought it was Rome that was built on hills, not London. Once we'd abandoned The Cat, we headed up a steep slope to go to The Horniman Museum. And what a splendid place it is...a real mix of stuff. We had expected to stay for an hour, but I think we left three hours later....stuffed animals, musical instruments and an aquarium had obviously held our attention. We were the only people without children in tow...so had to try and restrain ourselves from barging in front when we wanted a closer view of an exhibit. It was all very middle class and lovely, but I couldn't help but feel there were whole swathes of kids who would thoroughly enjoy a trip, but will probably never get the chance even though it's all free.
There was a marked contrast between the parents of Dulwich and the parents of Loughton. Dulwich prefers that carefully contrived look of casualness...jeans, baggy jumpers and no make up, whilst in Loughton parents are lathered in pancake make-up, bleached hair and designer labels on everything. For the Loughton kids, it's a trip to 'Cakes and Shakes', for the Dulwich kids a trip to the museum. Different, very different worlds.
As a side swipe, I gather the SNP wants the oil, but doesn't want the bank. You can't have it both ways Alex.
I'm, still resisting the download revolution for my music. CDs are the thing...and if I had my way, probably still vinyl. The sound quality is better, and I'm still a fan of a nice album sleeve, particularly if it comes with the lyrics or any other goodies. I've been eagerly awaiting the album from Lana Del Ray which promptly popped on to the door mat on Saturday, a couple of days before official release day. Thank you Play.com. I'll ignore all the controversy around her - she's not the first and won't be the last 'image enhanced' pop star; it's a very good album. But a strange thing, if I try and put it on the computer so I can transfer it to my phone, iTunes doesn't give me the name of the songs, the artist or the album title. Assuming that Apple hasn't taken ag'in' her, I can only assume its because the data doesn't go on to the database until 'official' launch...I wait with baited breath for tomorrow.
It was a busy weekend for the youngsters - they were busy escorting parents and potential pupils around the school on Saturday. One of the tasks was to help the arrivals park (parents not small children) and it's interesting that even at this stage, the parents were showing signs of stress...hurling abuse at the sixth formers when all the parking spaces were full. Nice. It wasn't like that in my day, and I don't think it should be like that now. Don't you fear for the teachers if these kids get in and then need to be disciplined?
A splendid view across London towards The Shard - standing heads and shoulders above everything else.
Whilst The Boy was at his girlfriend's mother's birthday lunch, we took The Cat for a National Youth Theatre audition down in Dulwich. I know the area only as a place to pass through (and for a few parties that that are best not mentioned), and had forgotten just how hilly it is. I thought it was Rome that was built on hills, not London. Once we'd abandoned The Cat, we headed up a steep slope to go to The Horniman Museum. And what a splendid place it is...a real mix of stuff. We had expected to stay for an hour, but I think we left three hours later....stuffed animals, musical instruments and an aquarium had obviously held our attention. We were the only people without children in tow...so had to try and restrain ourselves from barging in front when we wanted a closer view of an exhibit. It was all very middle class and lovely, but I couldn't help but feel there were whole swathes of kids who would thoroughly enjoy a trip, but will probably never get the chance even though it's all free.
There was a marked contrast between the parents of Dulwich and the parents of Loughton. Dulwich prefers that carefully contrived look of casualness...jeans, baggy jumpers and no make up, whilst in Loughton parents are lathered in pancake make-up, bleached hair and designer labels on everything. For the Loughton kids, it's a trip to 'Cakes and Shakes', for the Dulwich kids a trip to the museum. Different, very different worlds.
Friday, 27 January 2012
On the fringe
It's been a funny old month. But then January usually is. Christmas is over, and try as hard as we might it seems difficult to really get 2012 into gear. It can't be that the snow has slowed us down. There hasn't been any in these here parts. It can't be because work is slow. It's frantic. It can't be because of lack of opportunity. there are plenty of things to get my teeth into. I even wanted to go and see the 'comedy' Sherlock Holmes in Soho...and despite an impressive prompt, we simply forgot (I'm really, really sorry). It can't be because we are slumped in moribund depression. We have lots to celebrate. But we have for certain caught Auntie Gwen's 'Can't be arsed' gene. Getting out of bed in the morning is practically impossible. I'm sure it's darker when we wake up than when we go to bed.Hopefully with February just around the corner the pace of life will pick up. This week in anticipation, and despite heavy frost on the ground, I cycled to the office twice. Surely a sign that energy levels are returning?
Once upon a time I had more shoes than any man I know. I can't remember the exact number, but it was at least 42. That's pairs, not individual shoes. So I've been vaguely amused to find that suddenly I have no black work shoes to wear. Every one has a hole in the sole, which means that this week as the rain has poured my feet have got soaked. We still have a local cobbler in Bermondsey..nice folks - support Millwall and their politics are probably entirely red and white - and proper locals. For any local shop times have been hard as the chains have moved in, so I'm very happy to give them my support when I can. I could see his eyes light up when I turned up with my six pairs of shoes. They're done and done well now. And I hope he has a lovely weekend.
I may have to eat my words. I may have been rash spouting off about Scottish independence. Ridiculous as it is. My tongue may have been sharper than it should.
The stage is The Cat's one great love. She's doing drama As level, succeeded in joining the National Youth Theatre and performing on the South Bank last year. She can sing you every Sondheim song he has ever written, and has gone to more plays in the West End than any other teenager I know. The Boy is also a great performer. He has a real talent for acting...and his performance in the school's production of Gogol's The Government Inspector is still talked about two years after he had the lead role. He has other interests though so doesn't live his every waking moment thinking of the stage. So two different teenagers, each talented.
The school has decided to take a production up to The Edinburgh Fringe and both the offspring auditioned. They both auditioned for roles. They have both been chosen for lead roles. The Cat's Mother and I are over the moon. The kids are too. We'll be heading north of Hadrian's Wall. Knowing The Cat's Mother, we'll be taking a coach load of supporters. Tonight we will celebrate.
Once upon a time I had more shoes than any man I know. I can't remember the exact number, but it was at least 42. That's pairs, not individual shoes. So I've been vaguely amused to find that suddenly I have no black work shoes to wear. Every one has a hole in the sole, which means that this week as the rain has poured my feet have got soaked. We still have a local cobbler in Bermondsey..nice folks - support Millwall and their politics are probably entirely red and white - and proper locals. For any local shop times have been hard as the chains have moved in, so I'm very happy to give them my support when I can. I could see his eyes light up when I turned up with my six pairs of shoes. They're done and done well now. And I hope he has a lovely weekend.
I may have to eat my words. I may have been rash spouting off about Scottish independence. Ridiculous as it is. My tongue may have been sharper than it should.
The stage is The Cat's one great love. She's doing drama As level, succeeded in joining the National Youth Theatre and performing on the South Bank last year. She can sing you every Sondheim song he has ever written, and has gone to more plays in the West End than any other teenager I know. The Boy is also a great performer. He has a real talent for acting...and his performance in the school's production of Gogol's The Government Inspector is still talked about two years after he had the lead role. He has other interests though so doesn't live his every waking moment thinking of the stage. So two different teenagers, each talented.
The school has decided to take a production up to The Edinburgh Fringe and both the offspring auditioned. They both auditioned for roles. They have both been chosen for lead roles. The Cat's Mother and I are over the moon. The kids are too. We'll be heading north of Hadrian's Wall. Knowing The Cat's Mother, we'll be taking a coach load of supporters. Tonight we will celebrate.
Wednesday, 25 January 2012
A big Mac please
It's no coincidence I am sure that the lawyers I face in the current
legal tussle I'm involved in are called leech. Of course they don't
spell their name quite like that, but the pronounciation is the same.
I was a little displeased by the Oscar nominations yesterday and was wondering how much they actually reflect true talent, and how much Hollywood politics. Do they know anything? It could just be that my tastes are different....anyway I was really delighted that Pina has made it on to the list of nominees. It was, remarkably, my favourite film of last year. A German film documentary by Wim Wenders about a choreographer. But somehow it succeeded in doing what films should do - capturing the magic. If you get the chance to beg, borrow or steal the DVD, then do, I think you'll surprise yourself.
I thought Tinker, Tailor deserved more, but knew it wouldn't..hopefully Gary Oldman will do well, but I won't be placing a bet. I really enjoyed Midnight in Paris...but best film? No way...it's light, fluffy and whimsical...it must be the Woody Allen factor. Why War Horse is on the list I have no idea. Really no idea. Why it's nominated in the cinematography category is equally beyond me...Spielberg should have learned by now that 'more' is not always more. The Artist is excellent, but I suspect it will end up with many more nominations than actual Oscars. Anyway I shall wait and see the outcome, and then no doubt will get on my high (war) horse again.
There's the faintest possibility that the some of the next Jason Statham film will be shot in my office. The location manager has been round and likes it, so we'll have to see. I'm very excited at the prospect, even though knowing the type of film he makes the whole place will be blown up after a fight between Jason and fifty evil henchmen.
A few years ago, when The Boy was only as high as my hip, we were walking through Brighton when someone stepped out his Range Rover. It was Paul McCartney, so I smiled and waved, and he cheerily waved back. I guess he was still in the first flush with Heather. I then spent some time explaining to The Boy who Macca is and why he's such an important person. Down our road..the office road that is...Paul McCartney is doing some filming today and tomorrow. It was a nice coincidence then that Q Radio was playing some Beatles this morning. I think this is for an advertisement, and I have to ask myself why he would do it....obviously not the money, but perhaps he just needs to keep himself occupied. As some of the filming will take place in the Mews itself, I'm hoping to get a picture. Star struck? Me? Noooooo. It seems that a Range Rover is not good enough anymore as the man is arriving by helicopter. Well obviously. If you were Paul McCartney you would as well.
And don't forget "Dance dance otherwise we are lost". I think that may be my motto for the year.
I was a little displeased by the Oscar nominations yesterday and was wondering how much they actually reflect true talent, and how much Hollywood politics. Do they know anything? It could just be that my tastes are different....anyway I was really delighted that Pina has made it on to the list of nominees. It was, remarkably, my favourite film of last year. A German film documentary by Wim Wenders about a choreographer. But somehow it succeeded in doing what films should do - capturing the magic. If you get the chance to beg, borrow or steal the DVD, then do, I think you'll surprise yourself.
I thought Tinker, Tailor deserved more, but knew it wouldn't..hopefully Gary Oldman will do well, but I won't be placing a bet. I really enjoyed Midnight in Paris...but best film? No way...it's light, fluffy and whimsical...it must be the Woody Allen factor. Why War Horse is on the list I have no idea. Really no idea. Why it's nominated in the cinematography category is equally beyond me...Spielberg should have learned by now that 'more' is not always more. The Artist is excellent, but I suspect it will end up with many more nominations than actual Oscars. Anyway I shall wait and see the outcome, and then no doubt will get on my high (war) horse again.
There's the faintest possibility that the some of the next Jason Statham film will be shot in my office. The location manager has been round and likes it, so we'll have to see. I'm very excited at the prospect, even though knowing the type of film he makes the whole place will be blown up after a fight between Jason and fifty evil henchmen.
A few years ago, when The Boy was only as high as my hip, we were walking through Brighton when someone stepped out his Range Rover. It was Paul McCartney, so I smiled and waved, and he cheerily waved back. I guess he was still in the first flush with Heather. I then spent some time explaining to The Boy who Macca is and why he's such an important person. Down our road..the office road that is...Paul McCartney is doing some filming today and tomorrow. It was a nice coincidence then that Q Radio was playing some Beatles this morning. I think this is for an advertisement, and I have to ask myself why he would do it....obviously not the money, but perhaps he just needs to keep himself occupied. As some of the filming will take place in the Mews itself, I'm hoping to get a picture. Star struck? Me? Noooooo. It seems that a Range Rover is not good enough anymore as the man is arriving by helicopter. Well obviously. If you were Paul McCartney you would as well.
And don't forget "Dance dance otherwise we are lost". I think that may be my motto for the year.
Tuesday, 24 January 2012
Rant
Opposite the office we have a new White Cube gallery. If you don't know White Cube, it's the spiritual home of the new wave BritArt. The first one opened in trendy Hoxton Square and almost single-handedly made the whole area the trendiest place in London. Not bad considering that before, you'd get mugged/raped/throat slit if you took a wrong turn. That's only a mild exaggeration. The Gallery is splendid - it was an ugly storage depot, and with a few deft strokes by the builders it looks more than passable. I mentioned before that I've been in it, and there's a terminal case of Emperors clothes. Thank heavens they're hoping to open a bar so you can stagger around, hardly noticing that there's nothing to look at. Anyway, it'll do the area good, so I'm not moaning. What I am moaning about though is that there are half a dozen cycle racks on the pavement outside the gallery which have been there for years. And very useful they are too. Clearly having cycles outside a trendy gallery is an aesthetic nightmare for the owners, and (I'm only speculating here) they appear to have prevailed on the Council to have them removed. That's a bit shitty if you ask me.
I'm interested to see that the Government's attempts to 'cap' benefits has been blocked by LibDem peers and Bishops. Now for me this is interesting. The cap is £26,000. If that's a familiar figure to you, it's because that is the UK's average wage. So that means there are millions of people who earn less than that. I may be over-simplifying it, but if the Government wants to encourage people to get a job shouldn't the benefit cap be way below he national average? I think so. An average wage implies you can afford some of the nice things in life...but why would you work if you can get those without work. I may be turning into Mr Grumpy here. Please let me know.
At the other end of the scale I see Vince Cable has set out plans for giving shareholders the say in how much company Directors are remunerated. Well it's a step I suppose, but not really much of one is it. As share values have gone Chief Executives salaries have gone up and we're all right to feel pretty aggrieved about that. But shareholders are, in general, not you and I. They are enormous pension funds, wealthy investors and the like, none of whom represent the people whose jobs and wages are being squeezed whilst the Fat Cats get fatter. Strangely, it seems the politicians have vetoed the idea of including workers representatives in the remuneration committees of major companies. By contrast, in Germany, this is how it is. And look how their economy has performed whilst ours has coughed and wheezed. Of course history says that there is a different economic and social mind set...ours is management vs workers, and theirs is management and workers together. That's not to say Germany has had it all its own way, but at a time when we need a radical change in this country, it might be better for us to look in that direction, rather than across the Atlantic for inspiration.
Back on two wheels, I was frustrated yesterday that the front lamp on my bicycle has stopped working. It was new in August. There it was flashing away when I arrived at the office yesterday morning, and dead as a Dodo in the evening. It's not the battery, and of course, I don't have the receipt to take it back. It's a familiar moan...bike lights seem to last no more than six months...I suspect the makers are on to a good wheeze. It's certainly one that costs me a fortune. Anyway, I wasn't completely caught out and left to cycle the 17 miles home in the dark - Santa had brought me a pair of lights that go in the handles of racing bikes giving a rad glow facing backwards and white light forwards; if I press the button they will flash orange as a turn indicator too - brilliant. Let's hope they last beyond June!
I'm interested to see that the Government's attempts to 'cap' benefits has been blocked by LibDem peers and Bishops. Now for me this is interesting. The cap is £26,000. If that's a familiar figure to you, it's because that is the UK's average wage. So that means there are millions of people who earn less than that. I may be over-simplifying it, but if the Government wants to encourage people to get a job shouldn't the benefit cap be way below he national average? I think so. An average wage implies you can afford some of the nice things in life...but why would you work if you can get those without work. I may be turning into Mr Grumpy here. Please let me know.
At the other end of the scale I see Vince Cable has set out plans for giving shareholders the say in how much company Directors are remunerated. Well it's a step I suppose, but not really much of one is it. As share values have gone Chief Executives salaries have gone up and we're all right to feel pretty aggrieved about that. But shareholders are, in general, not you and I. They are enormous pension funds, wealthy investors and the like, none of whom represent the people whose jobs and wages are being squeezed whilst the Fat Cats get fatter. Strangely, it seems the politicians have vetoed the idea of including workers representatives in the remuneration committees of major companies. By contrast, in Germany, this is how it is. And look how their economy has performed whilst ours has coughed and wheezed. Of course history says that there is a different economic and social mind set...ours is management vs workers, and theirs is management and workers together. That's not to say Germany has had it all its own way, but at a time when we need a radical change in this country, it might be better for us to look in that direction, rather than across the Atlantic for inspiration.
Back on two wheels, I was frustrated yesterday that the front lamp on my bicycle has stopped working. It was new in August. There it was flashing away when I arrived at the office yesterday morning, and dead as a Dodo in the evening. It's not the battery, and of course, I don't have the receipt to take it back. It's a familiar moan...bike lights seem to last no more than six months...I suspect the makers are on to a good wheeze. It's certainly one that costs me a fortune. Anyway, I wasn't completely caught out and left to cycle the 17 miles home in the dark - Santa had brought me a pair of lights that go in the handles of racing bikes giving a rad glow facing backwards and white light forwards; if I press the button they will flash orange as a turn indicator too - brilliant. Let's hope they last beyond June!
Sunday, 22 January 2012
The devil of a post
UP is a very clever man. In his wisdom he decided that if he was to see The Artist he would see it at the Barbican Arts Centre cinema, on the basis that you would get a more discerning audience with fewer of the normal cinema distractions. He was right. We went to see it at the Stratford Vue (that's the one in the new shopping centre near the Olympic stadium, not Shakespeare's home town). We knew it wasn't going well when we sat down and from a few rows back we heard one girl turn to her friend and say "Is this in English, I heard it was made by the French", then a couple of seats to our left two girls arrived, one with a large coke and popcorn, the other with two cartons of popcorn - their chewing was as much an accompaniment as the film's soundtrack. Finally, in the seat next to me, half way through the film, there was a sound of a text message arriving. I glared at the woman next to me, but she just smiled in the same way that she always does when she's done something naughty....
Apart from that, it was a fabulous film...a novelty yes, but beautifully put together and with some lovely conceits. Unlike Spielberg's War Horse. I struggle to understand how a stage production with puppets could reduce me to tears with its powerful emotions, whilst on the silver screen all that was completely lost. Yes it was big and glossy, but the tissues remained firmly in my pocket. A travesty.
Matilda, which we went to see last weekend, on the other hand is an amazing stage production and highly recommended for children of all ages from five through to eighty five. I hadn't realised what a great talent Tim Minchin is before, and going forwards I'll pay him much more attention.
I meant to mention, but forgot, and now will, although it would have fitted better in the Meryl Streep post. A friend works for a big accountancy business in London. They have had a presentation from a very senior person in the Metropolitan Police about how to manage people working this year. By way of introduction he said that the Police faced three major public event challenges this year. Obviously The Queen's Jubilee. Obviously The Olympics. But then without missing a beat added 'Margaret Thatchers state funeral'. I wonder if anyone has told the woman that this is THE year. I did a bit of Googling, and it seems it was Gordon Brown who agreed with The Queen that she deserves a state funeral. I'm not going to comment, but I guess everyone will have an opinion. And a strong one at that.
This is evidently my 666th post. That's a lot of writing. I'd say each one takes about half an hour, so 333 hours of my life given over to writing. That's two whole weeks of doing nothing but tapping out the usual drivel. Equally it's two weeks of sheer joy and pleasure. Nappy Valley persuaded me to start, and I'm still absolutely delighted she did. I don't write as well as her, but in my own little way, I'm delighted. I think when I started I wasn't sure "Why?", but I realised pretty quickly that it will be great in years to come back and look at the things we've been doing marking the changes in our lives...the good and the bad. Plus, Grandma in Cyprus gets to know what we're up to...and I think she likes that. As does The Brother. And of course writing this has opened up the blogosphere to me...and reading everyone else's efforts is a real delight.
Apart from that, it was a fabulous film...a novelty yes, but beautifully put together and with some lovely conceits. Unlike Spielberg's War Horse. I struggle to understand how a stage production with puppets could reduce me to tears with its powerful emotions, whilst on the silver screen all that was completely lost. Yes it was big and glossy, but the tissues remained firmly in my pocket. A travesty.
Matilda, which we went to see last weekend, on the other hand is an amazing stage production and highly recommended for children of all ages from five through to eighty five. I hadn't realised what a great talent Tim Minchin is before, and going forwards I'll pay him much more attention.
I meant to mention, but forgot, and now will, although it would have fitted better in the Meryl Streep post. A friend works for a big accountancy business in London. They have had a presentation from a very senior person in the Metropolitan Police about how to manage people working this year. By way of introduction he said that the Police faced three major public event challenges this year. Obviously The Queen's Jubilee. Obviously The Olympics. But then without missing a beat added 'Margaret Thatchers state funeral'. I wonder if anyone has told the woman that this is THE year. I did a bit of Googling, and it seems it was Gordon Brown who agreed with The Queen that she deserves a state funeral. I'm not going to comment, but I guess everyone will have an opinion. And a strong one at that.
This is evidently my 666th post. That's a lot of writing. I'd say each one takes about half an hour, so 333 hours of my life given over to writing. That's two whole weeks of doing nothing but tapping out the usual drivel. Equally it's two weeks of sheer joy and pleasure. Nappy Valley persuaded me to start, and I'm still absolutely delighted she did. I don't write as well as her, but in my own little way, I'm delighted. I think when I started I wasn't sure "Why?", but I realised pretty quickly that it will be great in years to come back and look at the things we've been doing marking the changes in our lives...the good and the bad. Plus, Grandma in Cyprus gets to know what we're up to...and I think she likes that. As does The Brother. And of course writing this has opened up the blogosphere to me...and reading everyone else's efforts is a real delight.
Tuesday, 17 January 2012
The lady's not for turning
After my little Scottish rant I wondered if I should be a little more considered and even-handed. So here's what I really think. The UK is a constitutional mess and it needs sorting out...and not in the piecemeal way we tend to go about things. At the moment we have devolved Government for Northern Ireland, Wales and Scotland....but not England. We have Scottish and Welsh MPs able to vote on things English, but not the other way round. We use an electoral system which does not give us the results which reflect our voting patterns. We have two Houses...Commons and Lords, but the Lords is not elected, nor does it seem to represent anyone in particular. I don't mind if the Scots want independence (although it doesn't make any real sense to me) but it should be part of a much bigger constitutional reform that restructures the Government for the future.
Phew. Glad to have got that out of the way. Hopefully Auntie Gwen will be speaking to me again. Soon.
One of the great political characters of the last 100 years was undoubtedly Margaret Thatcher. Whether you're 'FOR' or 'AGAINST' it is impossible to deny her impact on British society. For my part, although I was grown up during her time as Prime Minister, I look back and realise that at the time I didn't understand what she was doing, or why and the devastation she was causing. And that's quite an admission from someone who studied politics and economics at University in the early 1980's. I should never have gone to a nice middle class university, cosseted away from the harsh realities of life. However, she's been long out of power, and the effects are to be seen today. So with apologies to everyone who suffered either directly or indirectly, my view is clearer. She was a leader with vision, someone who brought about the many changes that the UK needed to bring it into the 21st century. That was something we badly needed. But the way she went about it and the long term consequences have been bad for many people and the country as a whole. I doubt it was necessary to inflict all the suffering to achieve the changes. It is a tragedy that since her 'vision' is something that our politicians have lacked. We need a new vision to get us on the straight and narrow again.
So with this in mind it was interesting to go and see The Iron Lady at the cinema this weekend. My other reason for wanting to see it was that some of it was filmed just outside my office - and at the time I was fearfully excited about the whole thing. I was delighted to get some of the girls to pose for a photo.
As for the film itself, I thought it was terrible....the worst I've seen in a long time. Meryl Streep was fantastic, but all the other characters were caricatures, and it was very disjointed in telling history. I doubt our teenagers would be able to follow it or understand the importance of certain events. Oddly, given the title of the film, there was barely a reference to east-west foreign policy and 'Doing business' with the Russians. Remarkably, her most famous quote, "The Lady is not for turning" was not included. And framing it by presenting her as a dementia-ridden old lady, well that was not for me...I'm not sure why you would do that. It either elicits sympathy or it is irrelevant...I can't see the Americans doing that to any of their past Presidents.
Monday, 16 January 2012
OMFG
No one can possibly be more surprised than me at the moment. I've just received a confirmation e-mail that I've passed my audition and will be part of the Olympics opening ceremony!
I've no idea what it will entail, other than there are 24 rehearsals, some five hours long. That's quite a commitment...and I'm over the moon.
Wow.
Friday, 13 January 2012
Second Saturday Shots
With the disaster of my phone it's taken me a little longer to find my pictures from December, but here's a few I've managed to retrieve
A rather splendid church in Southwark
The juxtaposition of the old and the new
Blackfriars tube
Evening view over the Thames
Banksy...who else?
More street art
Street art meets the Olympics
Old street
....these
Sunset out the window
Now what film is famous for a man stepping out of the shadows?
The girls...
Ice skating at the Brighton Dome
Same bar.....
I think I posted this before...I love it
These became....
I
Down at the marina
Thursday, 12 January 2012
The Scottish Play
Having breezed into the new year last week, it's come as a bit of a shock to the system to find I'm getting knocked from pillar to post by one battle after another...one in particular is shaping up to be pretty gruesome and probably expensive. It involves property and lawyers...never a pleasant combination. And this is giving me sleepless nights.
I had a battle of a different kind over the Christmas period. The memory card in my (android) phone corrupted meaning that the whole thing just went through a cycle of switching itself on, switching itself off, switching itself on, switching itself off,switching itself on, switching itself off,switching itself on, switching itself off,switching itself on, switching itself off,switching itself on, switching itself off,switching itself on, switching itself off,switching itself on, switching itself off,switching itself on, switching itself off,switching itself on, switching itself off,switching itself on, switching itself off,switching itself on, switching itself off,switching itself on, switching itself off,switching itself on, switching itself off, until the processor got so hot I could fry an egg on it. On the card were all my 'apps'...all 200 of them, as well as my music, my messages and my photos. The photos are, of course, very precious to me, so that was upsetting, but what was most irritating was that the icons for the apps just appeared as ghosts on the screen...and like all good poltergeists they just wouldn't go away. It didn't matter what I did, I just didn't seem to be able to solve the problem. Even putting the card in the computer, dragging everything off and then re-formatting it didn't work. It took me until this weekend to get a whole new card, put some music on it, and start downloading the apps all over again. Believe me it took some time, and I'm still left with all sorts of ghost icons on the screen. I've scoured the interweb with no success. So I'm now entirely dependent on Kellogsville to come riding to the rescue. No pressure
When I were a lad...these were absolutely brilliant...filling me with wonderment and joy. I'm so glad they are still going in the 21st century...and getting a makeover to bring them up to dateand infinitely preferable to those 3D TVs
Technology is not all bad..it can provide some entertainment. The sat-nav, when it speaks, has renamed Hove Huv, Lewes is called Loos, Loughton is Lufton, and our journey ended at Arns rather than Anne's. I see the Government has put together a task force to sort out the problem of sat-navs taking people down narrow streets, cycle paths, through rivers and over cliffs. Well let me give them a clue, it's not a technology issue. It's an issue about a lack of common sense. A lack of self-responsibility. Tackle that and the whole world, not just sat-navs, will become a better place.
The other night over dinner, we were musing about how warm it's this winter, and I was lamenting the lack of snow which I love. At this point The Boy piped up that what people don't realise is that global warming doesn't mean hot summers and more sunny days, instead it means more indeterminate seasons and just plain shitty weather all year round. Damn, I will put my sun tan lotion away now. From there the conversation just spiraled...the Brighton flat will be gone washed away by rising tides. Fortunately the house is on the top of a hill, so good for keeping our heads above water, and for shooting marauding less fortunates...that was The Boy's contribution. We debated whether it would be warm enough to keep chickens in the garage (if not there's always the cellar - battery chickens are the way to go), and whether our other livestock should be sheep, cows or goats. The vote went to goats as we suspect they're most productive on the least amount of space...but we may yet be proven wrong. We know where we'll be growing vegetables (there was a debate about sugar beet, but I think I prevailed. A windmill could be fixed to the roof to provide power and pump water from the stream at the bottom of the hill.
Then The Boy threw in about how much space we needed to support ourselves, and what this might mean for relatives who may want to join us. I hate to say this, but if there's a blood-link, the news is not good for you. The girls sentimentally claimed that they loved their relatives, and couldn't do without them. The Boys pointed out the hot air balloon argument, and there was no point in us all going down. There's no room for sentiment. If you can't pull your weight, then I'm sorry you just have to do the decent thing.
At that point it was time to clear the table and wash the dishes.
You wouldn't expect me to miss the opportunity to remark on the Scottish independence issue would you? My informed and considered opinion is that Hadrian's Wall was put up for a reason, and what a tragedy it's been in a state of disrepair for so long. No, with a few exceptions (Auntie Gwen and her family, a few relatives, perhaps one of the two ex-girlfriends who hailed from Alba, and a few friendly readers) I find the Scottish a miserable bunch of whingers, lacking in any sense of humour whilst remaining completely obsessed with turning gentle home-nations rivalry into hating the English for no reason at all. The distribution of taxes means that for years and years and years the English have subsidised The Picts who drown their sorrows in Whisky...or is it Whiskey...and Special Brew whilst gorging away on deep fried everything. They claim to have invented everything, but five minutes reading of the Encyclopedia Britannica shows that is just a myth perpetuated by a country that suffers from low self-esteem. The men wear skirts and a purse...what kind of country is that? It's particularly perverse that whilst the rest of the world is trying to get into larger political groupings, The Scots are going the other way. Since Blair started messing with the political system, we've had Scots MPs voting on purely English matters, whilst English MPs have no say on anything in the Highlands, and woe-betide them for expressing any sort of opinion because that would be meddling. So whilst many people hold with the view that France would be great if it wasn't for the French (not me), I'm of the opinion that Scotland would be great if it wasn't for the Scottish. Bet you're wondering where I'm not headed for my holidays this year.
I had a battle of a different kind over the Christmas period. The memory card in my (android) phone corrupted meaning that the whole thing just went through a cycle of switching itself on, switching itself off, switching itself on, switching itself off,switching itself on, switching itself off,switching itself on, switching itself off,switching itself on, switching itself off,switching itself on, switching itself off,switching itself on, switching itself off,switching itself on, switching itself off,switching itself on, switching itself off,switching itself on, switching itself off,switching itself on, switching itself off,switching itself on, switching itself off,switching itself on, switching itself off,switching itself on, switching itself off, until the processor got so hot I could fry an egg on it. On the card were all my 'apps'...all 200 of them, as well as my music, my messages and my photos. The photos are, of course, very precious to me, so that was upsetting, but what was most irritating was that the icons for the apps just appeared as ghosts on the screen...and like all good poltergeists they just wouldn't go away. It didn't matter what I did, I just didn't seem to be able to solve the problem. Even putting the card in the computer, dragging everything off and then re-formatting it didn't work. It took me until this weekend to get a whole new card, put some music on it, and start downloading the apps all over again. Believe me it took some time, and I'm still left with all sorts of ghost icons on the screen. I've scoured the interweb with no success. So I'm now entirely dependent on Kellogsville to come riding to the rescue. No pressure
When I were a lad...these were absolutely brilliant...filling me with wonderment and joy. I'm so glad they are still going in the 21st century...and getting a makeover to bring them up to dateand infinitely preferable to those 3D TVs
Technology is not all bad..it can provide some entertainment. The sat-nav, when it speaks, has renamed Hove Huv, Lewes is called Loos, Loughton is Lufton, and our journey ended at Arns rather than Anne's. I see the Government has put together a task force to sort out the problem of sat-navs taking people down narrow streets, cycle paths, through rivers and over cliffs. Well let me give them a clue, it's not a technology issue. It's an issue about a lack of common sense. A lack of self-responsibility. Tackle that and the whole world, not just sat-navs, will become a better place.
The other night over dinner, we were musing about how warm it's this winter, and I was lamenting the lack of snow which I love. At this point The Boy piped up that what people don't realise is that global warming doesn't mean hot summers and more sunny days, instead it means more indeterminate seasons and just plain shitty weather all year round. Damn, I will put my sun tan lotion away now. From there the conversation just spiraled...the Brighton flat will be gone washed away by rising tides. Fortunately the house is on the top of a hill, so good for keeping our heads above water, and for shooting marauding less fortunates...that was The Boy's contribution. We debated whether it would be warm enough to keep chickens in the garage (if not there's always the cellar - battery chickens are the way to go), and whether our other livestock should be sheep, cows or goats. The vote went to goats as we suspect they're most productive on the least amount of space...but we may yet be proven wrong. We know where we'll be growing vegetables (there was a debate about sugar beet, but I think I prevailed. A windmill could be fixed to the roof to provide power and pump water from the stream at the bottom of the hill.
Then The Boy threw in about how much space we needed to support ourselves, and what this might mean for relatives who may want to join us. I hate to say this, but if there's a blood-link, the news is not good for you. The girls sentimentally claimed that they loved their relatives, and couldn't do without them. The Boys pointed out the hot air balloon argument, and there was no point in us all going down. There's no room for sentiment. If you can't pull your weight, then I'm sorry you just have to do the decent thing.
At that point it was time to clear the table and wash the dishes.
You wouldn't expect me to miss the opportunity to remark on the Scottish independence issue would you? My informed and considered opinion is that Hadrian's Wall was put up for a reason, and what a tragedy it's been in a state of disrepair for so long. No, with a few exceptions (Auntie Gwen and her family, a few relatives, perhaps one of the two ex-girlfriends who hailed from Alba, and a few friendly readers) I find the Scottish a miserable bunch of whingers, lacking in any sense of humour whilst remaining completely obsessed with turning gentle home-nations rivalry into hating the English for no reason at all. The distribution of taxes means that for years and years and years the English have subsidised The Picts who drown their sorrows in Whisky...or is it Whiskey...and Special Brew whilst gorging away on deep fried everything. They claim to have invented everything, but five minutes reading of the Encyclopedia Britannica shows that is just a myth perpetuated by a country that suffers from low self-esteem. The men wear skirts and a purse...what kind of country is that? It's particularly perverse that whilst the rest of the world is trying to get into larger political groupings, The Scots are going the other way. Since Blair started messing with the political system, we've had Scots MPs voting on purely English matters, whilst English MPs have no say on anything in the Highlands, and woe-betide them for expressing any sort of opinion because that would be meddling. So whilst many people hold with the view that France would be great if it wasn't for the French (not me), I'm of the opinion that Scotland would be great if it wasn't for the Scottish. Bet you're wondering where I'm not headed for my holidays this year.
Tuesday, 10 January 2012
Celebrity stalking
"It's behind you"..or at least it should be.
We trotted off to the local panto on Sunday - Peter Pan flew in. This particular amateur company of thespians have been putting on panto for 51 years. That's an awful lot of Dames. There was enough of us to fill up an entire row. It is a miracle of the modern age that even with an amateur production the tickets had been booked on line, and that was fortunate as there was so many of us. I'm always in two minds about this strange British tradition, but one thing you can't deny is the enthusiasm of the audience for corny. Really corny. jokes. Nor can you deny the enthusiasm with which the cast delivers some pretty awful lines, sings with all their heart and soul and perform with a woodeness that would be better applied to the tumbling scenery. I had woken up curmudgeonly, but got swept along by the whole thing. Perhaps it was remembering my days treading the planks under the guidance of Chris Timothy, including a stint as Genie of the Ring in Aladin, but whatever, it was fun. And not "Two and a half hours of your life you'll never get back" according to one of our number. "Oh yes it was". "Oh no it wasn't". "Oh yes it was". "Oh no it wasn't". Etc, etc
I was out on the town towards the end of last year (and I may have mentioned this already) with a couple of my friends. The Cat's Mother remained at home with a temperature. Unbeknownst to me, we were spotted by some friends of The Cat's Mother, and it transpires there was much discussion amongst the friends about WHY was I out without her, was I playing hookie, and should they dump my pizza in my lap. I may have been drunk, but evidently well-enough behaved to avoid pizza-in-lap punishment. A few days later they passed me in the Homebase car park and I missed them waving and shouting hello. Unobservant may be my middle name. It was getting beyond an an odd coincidence then that we bumped into their parents in a pub in Waterloo...the Anchor and Hope (it may be called the Hope and Anchor...I can never remember) which serves some particularly fine food. So clearly they're following me and keeping a watch on my movements.
It seems that I am the victim of a different stalking. After all it has to be more than a coincidence when you bump into someone half way up a mountain in Switzerland, and then again in a darkened auditorium in Waterloo. Really I don't know what to do about it. I know that celebrities are not what they used to be..after fancy Anthony Worral Thompson getting caught shoplifting in Tescos....what's wrong with Fortnum's or Harvey Nicholls for heavens sake? There we were celebrating UP's birthday at a performance of Noises Off, and I spotted him skulking a few rows behind us. His cover was simple, but I saw through it. He was there with his teenage children...but had failed to bring his wife. And who on earth would take teenagers to see a farce that had seen its best days a couple of decades ago? I guess he recognises that he may also have had his best days - after all did you watch the Top Gear Indian special over Christmas? Yes, it was poor, so no wonder Jeremy Clarkson is looking for inspiration. I realise I'm that sort of guy. Just along the row from him was Babs Windsor, so she must have heard as well. I'm not sure what can offer her that Sid James didn't already.
We trotted off to the local panto on Sunday - Peter Pan flew in. This particular amateur company of thespians have been putting on panto for 51 years. That's an awful lot of Dames. There was enough of us to fill up an entire row. It is a miracle of the modern age that even with an amateur production the tickets had been booked on line, and that was fortunate as there was so many of us. I'm always in two minds about this strange British tradition, but one thing you can't deny is the enthusiasm of the audience for corny. Really corny. jokes. Nor can you deny the enthusiasm with which the cast delivers some pretty awful lines, sings with all their heart and soul and perform with a woodeness that would be better applied to the tumbling scenery. I had woken up curmudgeonly, but got swept along by the whole thing. Perhaps it was remembering my days treading the planks under the guidance of Chris Timothy, including a stint as Genie of the Ring in Aladin, but whatever, it was fun. And not "Two and a half hours of your life you'll never get back" according to one of our number. "Oh yes it was". "Oh no it wasn't". "Oh yes it was". "Oh no it wasn't". Etc, etc
I was out on the town towards the end of last year (and I may have mentioned this already) with a couple of my friends. The Cat's Mother remained at home with a temperature. Unbeknownst to me, we were spotted by some friends of The Cat's Mother, and it transpires there was much discussion amongst the friends about WHY was I out without her, was I playing hookie, and should they dump my pizza in my lap. I may have been drunk, but evidently well-enough behaved to avoid pizza-in-lap punishment. A few days later they passed me in the Homebase car park and I missed them waving and shouting hello. Unobservant may be my middle name. It was getting beyond an an odd coincidence then that we bumped into their parents in a pub in Waterloo...the Anchor and Hope (it may be called the Hope and Anchor...I can never remember) which serves some particularly fine food. So clearly they're following me and keeping a watch on my movements.
It seems that I am the victim of a different stalking. After all it has to be more than a coincidence when you bump into someone half way up a mountain in Switzerland, and then again in a darkened auditorium in Waterloo. Really I don't know what to do about it. I know that celebrities are not what they used to be..after fancy Anthony Worral Thompson getting caught shoplifting in Tescos....what's wrong with Fortnum's or Harvey Nicholls for heavens sake? There we were celebrating UP's birthday at a performance of Noises Off, and I spotted him skulking a few rows behind us. His cover was simple, but I saw through it. He was there with his teenage children...but had failed to bring his wife. And who on earth would take teenagers to see a farce that had seen its best days a couple of decades ago? I guess he recognises that he may also have had his best days - after all did you watch the Top Gear Indian special over Christmas? Yes, it was poor, so no wonder Jeremy Clarkson is looking for inspiration. I realise I'm that sort of guy. Just along the row from him was Babs Windsor, so she must have heard as well. I'm not sure what can offer her that Sid James didn't already.
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