Building blocks

Here's a selection of pictures I took on our walk at the weekend

  

 

 

 

 

And now for this weekend

With a high degree of inevitability, after a week of rest, relaxation and enjoyment we overdid it at the weekend.  It wasn't all our fault.

On Saturday we went on a 'Sonnet walk' organised by The Globe theatre.  Essentially this took us from the top end of Shoreditch to The Globe via the places important to Shakespeare, with the odd actor leaping out and reciting a sonnet to us along the way.  Now I realise that the sonnet bit is pretty specialised and not to everyone's taste...but, but, but the flipside is that it took us to bits of backstreet London we wouldn't normally see...and, and, and there were plenty of hostelries on the way, so it will be walked again as a pub crawl...and given the distance it will indeed be a crawl by the time we reach the end!  Our legs ached as we reached our destination.

 Not everyday you see a labourer reciting a Shakespearean sonnet

 This one was a fairy (on the left)

 We never did work what this building was...completely surrounded by modern offices

 A sonic sonnet

 All shapes and sizes

A bicycle substituted for a horse...and it worked incredibly well

Sunday was exercise of a different sort...and we got the easy part of it.  One of our friends was running the London Marathon.  For the first time...at an age when she like us should be putting her feet up.  We braved the crowds and headed for Greenwich for a glimpse before moving on to Mudchute on the Isle of Dogs for a second look, and then onto Tower Hill and finally along the river at the 40km mark.  We cheered, we clapped, we shouted.  The Boy and I were made to carry heavy rucksacks full of provisions because getting a drink and bite to eat in central London is a difficult task. Humph.  There was, of course a great atmosphere.  Really fabulous...and probably all the more emotional because of the bombings in Boston the week before - one of my good friends was running in that and she was pulled up half a mile from the end because of the atrocity.

 17 miles....

 Still going strong near the end

...and we bumped into some Olympic drummers

The weekend before this

I'm getting forgetful.  Not in a 'Where are my keys' sort of way, but in a 'Oh yes I had completely forgotten about that' sort of way.  I think I've developed 'Lazybrainitus'.  If you know a cure, please let me know.

I thought I'd blogged this, but can't find it, so I guess I forgot:


Kelloggs asked how Gay George is getting on...he who was sent flying from his bicycle into a lamp post by a Range Rover. I think I mentioned we went to see him....at the hospital near Paddington.  He was more talkative than I've ever known him.  Some of it made sense....so there's a change...he never made sense before.  We could hardly get a word in edgeways...I'm guessing all those weeks in hospital must leave you bored out of your brains.  Anyway, he was a lot fitter and healthier than I expected and looked nearly perfect.  He has now moved from that hospital to one nearer to home...a real blessing for him, and it has reduced the travel burden for his family enormously.  And I've had this note from his wife:

"We're having a meeting today about discharging him... So he could be home in the next couple of days which he's thrilled about. The plan is for him to be an outpatient at the cognitive skills, osteo and max facs clinics there. Still al long way to go but definitely on the right tracks."

In fact George is now home...hurrah!


We managed a week without going out.  Actually we more than managed, we revelled in it.  We were busy enough at home not to increase our TV viewing hours, so it was fabulous.  When I say we didn't go out for a week, that's not quite true...on Friday night we met up with friends for dinner.  But Friday nights don't count. In our group of six, there was one who was running in the London Marathon on Sunday.  She was cool as cucumber about it.  And another who spends his days avoiding bullets and bombs whilst digging for oil in Iraq.  He too is pretty cool about that too.

The previous weekend, which I've not yet recorded for posterity (and given my forgetfulness, I need to) had been a busy one.

The weekend had started early on Friday with a lunch at The Globe theatre...we've managed to get ourselves involved with the new indoor Wannamaker theatre there which will open in the autumn, so they were kind enough to feed us.

That's us on the stage at The Globe. Left to right: UP, The Queen, The Cat's Mother, Me (looking a bit rough, and for the first time scruffier than UP) and The Cat

And then on Saturday we had a family celebration lunch.  This was the start of the festivities to celebrate The Boy's birthday, and had been timed to coincide with Grandma in Cyprus' visit.  It was lovely to get everyone together over for the afternoon.  Some hadn't been together for a long time...not since The Boy was christened I think, or may be even earlier. I think he enjoyed it.....

Adore

Absolutely adore this new sculpture at St Pancras station...when I was small I thought it would be nice to walk on clouds

And these are the two people I adore the most

MT

So Grandma in Cyprus not in Cyprus is once more Grandma in Cyprus.  She returned yesterday, just as the sun has come out.  It was lovely to see her, and it's a sadness to me that she's far enough away that seeing her more regularly is not really possible.

I went to see the funeral procession for Margaret Thatcher yesterday...it passed not too far away from my office, so it was an easy decision to make.  I was drawn as much as anything by the thought this was a national event of some significance, and the sort of thing that it is a good thing to attend....not just the pomp and circumstance, but as an historical moment  I was not alone...the streets were fuller than I've ever seen before.  The roads were empty as traffic had been halted all around the route.  The city has an eerie feel to it when it's like this...and the silence was appropriate given the circumstances.  It would be easy to say that the watchers were all city-boys who have prospered under Thatcher's monetarist policies, but the truth is you could see that the audience was made up of people from all walks of life.  I had expected the silence to continue as the cortège went past, but instead there was respectful clapping.  people had come to pay their respects.  Blink and you missed it, but I was glad I went along.

I was going to write a long post about Thatcher, but that seems needless.  The only thing I will say is that what is missing most from so much of the debate, discussion and commentary is context.  When she arrived Britain was the sickman of Europe, and perhaps her actions should best be measured against that.  Because of the ignorant commentary, it seems I've become a Thatcher apologist....it doesn't feel good: many... most ...of today's problems in society and the economy are the direct result of her actions.  She is to blame.  She did many things in her 11 years as Prime Minister and many have turned out to be bad.  If you look at the greed, excess, selfishness, arrogance and lack of any sense of responsibility, the lack of humanity in society, these are all a direct result of her actions.  Her decisions.  Her responsibility.

But.

But, I don't think she was a bad person.  She was like Pandora, and opened a box without understanding the consequences of what she had done.  I'm not sure it has been re-opened so that 'hope' could escape to, although interestingly one of the BBC commentators made a passing reference that suggested with her passing, there may be hope for change in the future.

Anyway, I took some photos in the crowds of the people watching the event:

 This was a cameraman who briefly put down his camera

 Most people watched it through a viewfinder

 Some worked in offices with a good viewpoint

 The crowds were so deep

 This lady brought a step ladder

 He saw nothing

 iPads were everywhere

Builders with a good view

 The police were everywhere

 One of the many international TV crews

 Some needed reviving

 A view of the cathedral

 Japanese TV presenter

 Ceremonial uniforms were everywhere

 Splendid fellow

 Who knew we had so many different uniforms

 He was a very pleasant man

 Plenty of medals on display

 He stomped around very officiously

Time for a chat

Sometimes doing nothing is best

It's a curious week this one is.  For the first time, possibly ever, The Cat's Mother and I are not going out of an evening.  Not one single time.  For some people that's not unusual, for us it's something we've been craving.  We've over done it this year, on a merry go round of Bacchanalian pleasure, but we'd reached a stage of saying...we need a breather, we need a holiday.  Frankly, it's a bit silly when you get to the stage of finding an evening out a bit of a chore, and there's a risk you may just fall asleep.  So last night we watched the penultimate episode of Broadchurch...we've been watching it develop, and it's been a bit painful really.  It started off with critics hailing it as the British 'Killing', but meandered around without going anywhere, with some ropey characterisation hopeless sub-plots.  However, it's coming to the boil nicely now, and we'll see the murderer revealed next week...I just hope I'm not too distracted by David Tenants apparently dyed hair.

We were out with friends a few weeks ago, and we got to talk about the guy's father.  The father had left home many moons ago, and there had barely been any contact since...it was interesting how the conversation evolved because although we continued talking about his father, in my mind was my own relationship with my father.  As the discussion developed I became more forceful in saying that before it was too late they should be reconciled. It was not that I had become estranged from my father, but in fact my brother had.  Whatever the rights and wrongs of their fall out, as my father lay in a hospital bed with his life spirit draining away I tried to get him to agree to my brother, his son, coming to see him.  He wouldn't allow it.  He was adamant.  Absolutely.  I was upset at the time...but I hadn't realised how upset.  Tellingly, very quickly after his death, I couldn't remember when he died...not the day, not the month, and soon not the year.  It was an act that I've found impossible to forgive.  In death, my father and I have become estranged.  I feel nothing for him.  My brother, interestingly, having spent a lifetime of under achievement and rebelliousness brought on I believe by fatherly neglect has flourished.  I think he is happier, more content and more fulfilled than he has ever been.  He has become the person he could have been fifty years ago...he's someone I'm very proud to call my brother.

Another epiphany moment occurred a couple of weeks ago....it was less of a moment, more of a long-drawn out thing.  For reasons yet to be divulged I was trawling slowly through photographs of the last twenty years...thirty five if you include the few that I had from my student days, before I got the bit between my teeth and would photograph anything that moved...or didn't.  It managed to intrude quite sharply into The Cat's Mothers and my week down in Brighton...many were taken in the days before digital photography, so I was having to scan in the chosen few...and turned into a mammoth exercise which carried on late into the night.  It was a remarkable opportunity to remember good times and bad, happy memories and sad...and perhaps with the addition of perspective give context and balance to the progress of life to date.  I came away feeling in my heart and soul a different person...more relaxed than I've ever been, a gentler person with a different view of the world.  Weeks on, I still feel the same...obviously you can't avoid the the antagonisms of daily life, but hopefully a more positive way of looking at things will remain into the future.

There's a fly in my ointment though, and I just don't know how to deal with it.  I have worked for a few years with the most interesting and exciting client I've ever worked with.  When you've worked as long as I have, that's a big statement.  They're a terrific bunch of people and the work they do is meaningful....they help change society for the better  I've worked hard, very hard with them and have achieved a lot for them.  I've spent time working for them, when I should have been doing other things.  But a few months ago they took on a new person - another external consultant like me -, and he has made the relationship difficult.  It's odd because we're not a threat to each other...and working more closely would benefit us all.  The first thing he said to me was that he was not here to review my performance in that meaningful way that suggests he was doing exactly that.  He's blocked giving me the information I need to operate, and acts as though he's my boss.  I've tried several times now to build bridges and make the relationship work by going out and chatting over coffee.  In one meeting he said "I know we all have to watch our backs"...which is something that had never occurred to me with this client before...I'd always felt that doing a good job was all that mattered...I still think that.  The last time, I was totally open about what I was doing, how I was doing it, why I was doing it...he wouldn't divulge a thing.  I said I was organising a meeting with someone else in the company to organise a way forwards for a project...he asked if he could come along and I said yes...but by the time I'd got back to my office he'd sent out a note calling the meeting, setting the agenda and suggesting it was his idea.  Duplicitous is the word that came to mind.

It has thrown me completely.  It's causing me sleepless nights.

Secret Squirel

I've recounted on a couple of occasions my on-going battles with the local squirrel population...it's turning into the Hundred Years War...or perhaps just the stalemate of the first three and a half years of The Great War.  It's almost enough to stop me being a Buddhist....

The consequence has been that even through the awful weather, we've not been feeding the birds.  The bushy-tailed rats had worked out that the easiest way to get the bird food is to hoick the glass dome of the feeder sending it crashing down onto the ground.  Sooner or later it will smash.

However, a few days ago in the spirit of generosity that I'm well known for, I filled up the feeder...and was quickly rewarded with the sight of birds on the table.  Beautiful.  Not surprisingly, the next morning, the dome was on the floor, and the food (dried meal worms that the squirrels don't even like) was spread around.  I didn't have the time or inclination to sort it out.

The dome isn't actually a dome, it's more of a narrow necked jar with a very wide bottom...inverted when it's on the table, and when it fell it ended up with the neck facing upwards.  It stayed like that for a couple of days, until this morning when I spied this:

I knew something was up...so rushed out in my dressing gown to find this:

It's a hedgehog...and let's face it, if you've got to get stuck, in a jar full of food is not a bad place to be.  He was obviously quite happy there, but with the jar tipped up like that it may have become his coffin.  So, I carried it gently into the shade, tipped it on it's side, and sat back and watched:

After that, we finally put a bucket on the bird table in the hope it will stop the little varmints:

I'm taking bets on how long I've got the better of them....

A cast of thousands

We have some new faces in the office...in fact so many that I have been squashed into the corner and barely have the courage to poke my head out from behind my computer monitor.  I feel you should be introduced...although I've not yet worked out their foibles, so giving them names may be a mistake.

Firstly we have The Apprentice.  She's a feisty young spirit from Croydon, who seems to be a quick learner and will soon be a fearsome opponent for anyone who messes her around on the other end of the phone.

Then we have Mrs Mop.  She likes the place tidy, and is happy to fill the dishwasher with the dishes and mugs that would normally spend several weeks getting grimier and grimier until the mould sprouted and they would walk around by themselves.

Next is WAG.  Yes she does indeed come from Essex and is blond.  But she's not perma-tanned, nor is she dripping in gold and designer labels.

The Omen.  Actually he's been around for a while, and only comes in occasionally.  When he's not doing double entry book keeping, he's learning to be a chiropodist.  I think.

The Bishop.  She's lovely, quite gently, and her husband is currently treading the boards with the RSC in Stratford. Her only peccadillo that I can fathom so far is her worry that the filter in the kettle needs to be changed more regularly....she thinks algae will grow and we will all die a horrible slow death on the floor of the office writhing in agony.  She went and bought a new one, even though we have a box of a dozen sitting in the cupboard.

So a new cast, and I hope they get up to all sorts.  None of the names are meant to be derogatory in any way, quite the opposite in fact.  There's a busy, buzzy atmosphere here now which is lovely, and it's super to have them here.

I wonder what they think of me?

Together

Technology is giving me headaches.

The email on my phone corrupted this week, and as having email wherever I am is important to my job I needed to do something about it.  Repairing the email didn't seem possible even after an extensive search of the interweb, so I had to download a whole new application...and then work out the settings.  Pleased I managed it, but what a time waster.

In updating my laptop, Photoshop stopped working...I needed to re-register it I was told.  But the online registration wouldn't work, and after several attempts at calling adobe and being told my wait was "less than two hours" I've given up.  I'd been sent some photo editing software for me to review on the blog, but the PR never managed to get in contact to show me how to use it, so it's been sat idle for a few months.  However, I was a bit desperate so I've started fiddling and am beginning to work my way around it...it is remarkably complicated and not in anyway intuitive (but then neither is Photoshop), but I'm getting there.  Slowly.  The first photo has been worked on so that you can see everyone on the back row...it looks a bit artificial, but at least it's there.

And well done to Hippo for working out the comment issue...you are a determined man indeed!

This has turned into a week of reunions.

The consequence of last nights one being the most stonking hangover I've had for many a year.  It was the annual reunion of my friends from school.  We're a mixed bunch...amongst us was someone who drives a white van and repairs garage doors, one a £1 million a year city financier, one a two-times BAFTA award winner, a GP, and the mother of a former drug addict.  It makes for an eclectic conversation, so no wonder bottles and bottles of white wine were consumed.

The day before was the family gathering, again an annual event.  We met up at a restaurant that I hadn't been to for 45 years (I would guess).  It was a lovely event with an age range from less than ten all the way up to just short of a century.  Seeing all our family together is such a privilege even though we were struggling to work out whether we were second cousins, first cousins twice removed...does anyone know how that all works?  And how fortunate we were that the sun came out.  Lovely.

And tonight we're off to see a friend who I met during the Olympics...we became best buddies throughout the rehearsals.  As we're men, it's taken us this long to get our act together and meet up.  I'm very much looking forward to it...but wonder whether it might be like those marvellous people you meet on holiday who just seem different when you are in a different environment...I hope not; I expect it will be fun

No comment

I managed to miss a crucial event...well not crucial, just an important milestone for The Boy last month.  He led the biennial review of the School's CCF.  As with all things military, it was full of pomp and circumstance.  I'm very proud of his achievement - he won two awards for his leadership and that shows a strength which will see him through life I hope.  On the other hand, I retain the fear he may end up with a military career...it would break my heart and those of his family too.  Difficult.

It is an enormous risk to step into the discussions about Margaret Thatcher...so I won't. In the last 24 hours I have seen a torrent of uneducated, ignorant comment - both for and against her.   But I will say that to see people dancing and celebrating her death is unseemly.  They should be ashamed.  Death is a terrible thing, particularly for those close to the person who has died.  We have all experienced the death of someone close at some stage in our lives, and I am sure would be distressed if we thought that people had cracked open the champagne to celebrate their passing...what if it happened to us...I'm sure we've all offended and upset people as we travel through life. For me, the best thing I've read so far was from the BBC "It is astonishing to think that when Margaret Thatcher first joined the Cabinet in 1970, the Wimpy hamburger chain still banned women from coming in late on their own on the bizarre grounds that only prostitutes would be out at that time of night."

Talking of uninformed comment, we went to see 'Oz, the great and powerful' at the weekend.  I'm glad we could see a children's film without the children in tow.   It's dangerous, as the makers knew, to go anywhere near the sacred Wizard of Oz, so they must have known the claws would be out.  Surprisingly, the cinema was pretty full on a Saturday evening - not bad for a children's film.

We enjoyed it...in fact, the opening scenes, in black and white, are fabulous, capturing the essence of the original perfectly...beautifully filmed and produced, the acting is pretty good too.  Of course, as we moved into Oz, the screen erupted into the bright colours of the fantastical land.  It tells a good tale, the vivid colours serve the film well and the plot is pretty good...not bad considering you know the ending from the outset.  Or at least you should.  On the downside, I think today's over-produced films can feel a tad sterile and unemotional, and that was the case here, and it would have been well served by some judicious editing.  But huge fun, worth a visit...and an encouragement to see 'Wicked' on stage if you haven't done so already.

And the bad reviews?  The worst one was from The Guardian:

"It does have flying monkeys and the Munchkins, but crucially it lacks Dorothy and Toto; the Cowardly Lion, the Tin Man and the Scarecrow; songs by Harold Arlen and Yip Harburg; and Margaret Hamilton either on a bike or a broomstick."

In other words, it's not the Wizard of Oz...no, it was never meant to be!