Competition time

One of these is The Boy.  A bottle of Austrian schnapps for the first person who can identify which one (click to enlarge). Hippo, please don't try and guess...shipping costs to Angola are horrendous!

She's at it again..

Food wise, there's a good chance that the kids having left home may yet kill me.  We're struggling to get catering for two right, so end up buying enough food to feed the 5,000.  The consequence of this was last weekend buying a lovely piece of beef, which even after cooking, we still made three-quarters of left.  I finally consumed the last chunk on Saturday at about lunchtime.  By Saturday evening, I was  consigned to the small room making various vulgar noises loud enough to keep the neighbours awake...

Down in the deep south-west, The Cat will soon be performing in a play at the University.  She sent us a trailer

Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

It was an obvious scam.  An email thanking me for participating in a survey, and rewarding me with a $250 Amazon gift card.  But I was home alone so rather than just delete it, I did some Google research and peculiarly it seemed that this might, just might be genuine. The email was genuine.  The person existed on LinkedIn and indeed at the magazine she claimed to work for.  So I took it, expecting really just to get a pile of viruses on my laptop.  No, there were none, and I had indeed won $250 dollars.  That's the most I've ever won in my entire life.  I'm pretty pleased, of course.  But then there is the small print...the gift token was issued in the States and can only be redeemed in the US store.  It cannot be transferred to amazon.co.uk Now I could get all angsty about this...after all shipping costs would take up a big, big chunk of it if I bought anything real, but these days my entertainment is mostly downloaded...so that's going to be a pretty big library of MP3s isn't it?  Any other suggestions for my treasure trove, let me know.

Land of the giants

Is this the 21st century version of a family portrait?

Yes these are 9" statues of us on the mantle piece...I included a £1 coin so you can get the idea.  Some people find them a bit freaky, others think they're wonderful...we think they're great.  They were created for us using the latest 3D printing technology.

If you want to spin them around, you can look at the makers website links here, here, here and here

When I organised it, I kept it a secret, so that when we arrived, no one but me know what was going to happen...not surprisingly, no one had the faintest idea.  I simply asked that we each took along something that represented an important aspect of our lives.  The Boy took his skis, The Cat too the complete works of Shakespeare, The Cat's Mother is holding a sculpture of a hare, and I had my camera.

Pants on fire

So, here's a video.  It's Kitzbuehel on New Year's Day at about 6.30 in the evening.  Thousands (about 12,000 they told us) gathered to watch the flaming torch descent of the mountain.  The Boy was carrying one of the torches...it was a quite remarkable sight and was followed by the most spectacular firework show we have ever seen.

The highlight of the descent is when a select few instructors throw their torches aside, hurtle down the last few hundred metres as fast as they can and jump through a wall of flames.  The Boy was one of these.  Don't ask me which one....he was wearing a blue jacket  I think it was the experience of a lifetime for him...and indeed for his Dad



This was his burnt jacket and glove afterwards

And this was father and son celebrating together

And then him with The Cat and The Muffins

Did I forget this?

Sometime before Christmas...and no I can't quite remember when I went on a tour of southern England.  Unusually for me, I was very, very organised about it and especially with the timings.  In the course of my travels, I needed to meet up with three artists, an amplifier repairer and a freezer repair man (that's not the same as a freezing repair man which is what I guess exists in America at the moment).

One of my designated meeting spots is the East Beech Cafe, a rather stunning structure in Littlehampton designed by Thomas Heatherwick....I've mentioned it before.  This time I stopped long enough to have a delicious lunch and glass of hot cider...really to be highly recommended.  Coincidentally I was given a book about the man and his works for Christmas and it was much appreciated indeed.  Have I also mentioned that Thomas Heatherwick is my 'Beatles' moment.  I had the chance to work with him as his PR advisor but I preferred to work on what I thought were more challenging projects. Doh!

Anyway, I took some photographs in the rain and darkness of the beach huts....some of which may still be standing after the storms

Hello 2014

*pokes his head up from beneath the duvet and peers out with one eye open and the other closed to see if the world in 2014 is more inviting than it was in 2013*

Hello and a Happy New Year to everyone.  I hope you all had as splendid a Christmas and New Year as I did.

I think I've forgotten how to write it's been so long, but I remembered earlier today why I have the blog.  It's so I don't forget what I've been up to.  Entirely selfish really, but with my memory giving a goldfish a run for its money I think the digital diary had enormous value now and will only get ever more useful in the days, months and years to come.  In case you think I'm exaggerating, I couldn't remember the name of one of the women in the office when I came in today.  I had to huddle behind my computer working away whilst racking my brains.  It never came to me, so it was fortunate that at lunchtime someone mentioned her name. I feel bad.  Perhaps I need a holiday.

I haven't got a hope of catching up on all the blogs I love to read as I've not been near them for a fortnight, so if there's anything hot that I've missed, perhaps you could let me know.

Anyway, here's a clue as to what we did over the New Year.  There's three minutes of it, and some of it is repetitive...but as Google took it upon themselves to craft it, I won't take the blame.

If I remember any more I'll write again.

Twixt-mas

Are you having fun?  Yes, us too.  Too much to spend any time on the computer...unlike some people who I gather started doing their sale shopping on Christmas Day, probably even whilst her Maj was squeaking.

Starting on Christmas Eve, our daily celebrations have been and will be:

Family and friends
Family
Blessed silence
Family
Friends and family

Even managed a sort of broken Skype call with the Boy after several dozen attempts.  He looked rough as hell, but that may just have been the camera, although the fact that he was swigging beer may have been a different indicator.

In a couple of days we're off to Austria to celebrate the start of 2014.

Until the next time, hope you're having a truly splendid Christmas, and all the best for next year.  Thank you for reading and for your comments which are always much appreciated....

Any questions?

It must be Christmas.  Frantically busy.  I remember back in the good old days when the world was sepia-coloured, and the young lad used to push his bicycle up the hill with a loaf of Hovis under his arm, it used to get quiet at work in December so you could focus on decorating the Christmas tree.  But no longer.

Anyway, The Cat has returned home for the winter holidays full of snot and cough.  I'd have locked her in her room with a cross painted on the door, but The Cat's Mother thinks that's abuse.  You mark my words, it'll be me that comes down with a nasty cold for Christmas not her.

We've lost touch with The Boy again.  No replies to either e-mails or texts.  I assume he's OK as there has been at least one Facebook post.

Our beautiful Christmas lights have suddenly died.  I suspect the rainwater has got into the electrics.  there has after all been rather a lot recently.  Our garden looks all rather sad....

I was travelling a lot over the last couple of days, so had the chance to contemplate on being an adult.

I came to realise that the reason that old people (I'm including myself as old) get up early in the morning is that when they were teenagers, they would sleep late for as long as they could, and continued to do so into their twenties.  But when a baby comes along, there are sleepless nights so the habit of sleeping in is trained out.  This continues as the child gets older as there is then a need for a taxi service for the school run and weekend activities.  By the time the child has left home, the adult has been 'getting-up' trained, much as the child was potty trained, and the training is never lost.  Sad but true.

Also, old people (again that includes me) can only talk about themselves.  Why is this?  Because during their offspring's teenage years, their words fall on deaf ears, with only a grunt in response.  If you dare to ask what they've been up to, the likely response is silence, or another grunt.  So you resort to talking about yourself to create an impression of conversation.  Naturally, as the surly teenager forms into a beautiful young adult, it's too late. You've learnt to just talk about yourself and can't get out of the habit.

Anyway, enough about myself, how are you doing?

Committed

I've been a foolish, foolish boy (not for the first time I hear Grandma in Cyprus exclaim).  The headphone socket on my mobile stopped working.  As I'm addicted to listening to music whenever I'm travelling, I handed it over to be repaired straight away.  Stored on it are passwords, usernames, pin numbers and everything else any criminal might want to steal my identity and plunder everything I have.  I didn't think about it, and I'm not suggesting that anyone at the shop might be mischievous, but who know what might happen?  It's this sort of thoughtlessness that gives the criminally inclined the opportunity they need.  As they said on Dad's Army 'Stupid Boy'.

Whilst the ruling elite were celebrating the life of 'A giant of History', and David Cameron was having a selfie with a tasty Scandinavian blonde, we were also celebritied up on Wednesday.  Obviously it was a celebration of Mandela's achievements, but it was quite Hogmanay was it? Mind you, Cameron is the man who suggested that next year we will be able to mark 100 years since the outbreak of World War 1, and the celebrations will bring us together as a nation like the 2012 Olympics did.  I'd like to say a few words about Mandela, but I doubt I could usefully add anything to the eulogising that has gone on already.  My only hope is that his global legacy is as powerful and long lasting as it should be.

UP was visited by Her Maj, and managed to get the back of his head in the Daily Mail.  Truth is, as it's the Daily Mail, it's probably a good thing that it is the back of his head.  She was opening the new Barnardo's HQ with her daughter-in-law. UP had hoped to pop round the corner to have a quick fag with Camilla, but evidently she didn't have a spare ciggie on her.  Here, courtesy of PA and the the Daily Mail is the picture - yes Queenie does appear to be smiling at him...

Meanwhile The Cat's Mother and I went to the launch of Jonathan Meade's new publication...not a book, but a box of postcards with suitably incoherent captions called Pidgin Snaps.  I'd got involved because it's being published by Unbound which is a publishing house that raises money by asking supporters to contribute to the cost of publishing.  It's a modern spin on an old tradition evidently.  In return for your donation, you get a copy of the publication and a range of benefits.  One of which was to attend the launch party.  Now, I'm a great fan of Jonathan Meades, and have enjoyed his TV programmes over the decades. He's always seemed clever, erudite and entertaining. Things didn't feel quite right when I didn't quite get the benefits I was expecting, and then when we looked through the 100 postcards, The Cat's Mother's only comment was that I took better photos.  We arrived at the launch event in a restaurant that I know and love, but haven't been to for many, many years.  To call it an event may have been an exaggeration...we were squashed in the corner of a bar without a canape to be seen (I was starving and even a crisp would have done).  Yes I know a bit of a first world issue (again) and forced to listen to the publisher who cornered us and could bore for Britain as she rattled on about how clever she is.  Eventually Mr Meade deigned to speak.  He was crude, rude and unappealing in extremis.  The use of the 'C' word was bad enough before he went on to tell a particularly vulgar story about a famous author, and bodily fluids, whom he described as a 'dwarf genius'.  So I doubt I'll be paying much attention to Mr Meade in future.

Will the last person to leave the country please switch off the lights

I've made two faux pas' on Facebook this last week.  First of all, I turned a friend's very beautiful baby girl into a boy by describing her as 'he'...twice....and failed to notice it for a couple of days.  It's too late to delete the comment now.  The second one was to get a friend's son's name wrong...Will I called him, not Wilf. Again it took me a couple of days to realise.  I doubt any of them will speak to me again.

The Cat is returning home next weekend.  Such is the nature of Universities that now you pay a small fortune to attend, the terms are shorter.  She is delighted that Hippo reposted her trailer...clearly Angola is going to be a big market for the film!

In the meantime, The Cat's Mother and I are left alone amongst our Christmas decorations.  Peace and quiet reigns supreme and we can enjoy ours own company.  It's lovely.

The Boy has landed on his feet.  He spent one night in the hostel before meeting up with one of the instructors from last year...there was a space available in the Instructors Chalet so he moved in pretty sharpish.  He's been fitted out with his uniform, and  on Saturday took his first lesson.  A German lady.  It went very well indeed, and she booked again for Sunday.  In the meantime he got reassigned to looking after the small children on the Kinder Slopes...which means that he will have a full week's work early in the season.  That may be a good thing as there is a constant stream of  emails such as 'any evening that includes facepainting with charcoal and goats outfits must be good'...

I nearly cried when the government announced last week that it was dropping green levies on energy companies, and some of them immediately announced that bills would be reduced by £50 next year.  That was the week after they'd put them up £150, so they'll only go up £100.  The green 'levy' will still be made, but through 'general taxes'. So if  we were concerned that energy company shareholders were filling their pockets before, then there's no change.  I don't believe that basic energy - the stuff that lights and heats our homes should be in the hands of private companies who by their very nature are trying to make a profit out of their customers for their shareholders.  That's basic capitalism.  But that is the way it is now, and the politicians seem unable or unwilling to change that.  Don't think for one minute that the Ed Miller Band approach of freezing bills is anything but a short-term tactical election ploy.  The same, of course, applies to water (marvelous announcement from Ofwat that water companies will no longer be allowed to make super-inflated profits....why were they ever!?)  And rail companies.

The only real way to reduce energy profits is to reduce consumption...and that is our hands.  There are grants to insulate homes and instal renewable energy sources such as solar cells.  I once became (and still am) a great advocate of Personal Carbon Trading schemes.  The idea behind this is that every country has a 'carbon allowance'.  That allowance is then divided between the population of that country.  Some people will not require their full allowance and are allowed to 'sell' it to those that do.  In the same way that water meters tend to reduce people's use of water, this approach would generally reduce energy consumption levels.  The bonus of this, is that the people who wouldn't need their allowance are the less well-off who live in smaller properties...the people who need more than their allowance are the people who live in bigger properties and have lots of plasma TV's (etc!).  So in one fell swoop you get a 'green' energy policy and the redistribution of wealth.  Of course, it does add an extra level of complexity of life (but that is the way of things now) as the 'trading is done online, but apart from that for me it's perfect!  There are some complexities, as you need to set the level to include families with children, but that is a detail.  Where you can extend this is to include people's car so that instead of there being the clumsy annual car tax (RIP Tax Disc I see), this can be included as part of their carbon allowance.  Genius.  Don't say otherwise.

Anyway, I'm off to switch off a few lights now.....

Compensation culture

I am worth a fortune.  A big fortune at that.

And no, I'm not talking about the money in my bank account which is more akin to the Greek national debt.

I'm talking about me literally.

Away back in September, I was sent tumbling from my cycle by someone who opened their door without looking.  Since then I've been dealing with their insurance company.  Reasonably, I get paid for the repairs to my bike (although there was some discussion over whether they would or would not pay for a large scratch on it) and my transport costs.  Thank you very much.  That seems reasonable to me.  They also paid for me to go to physio therapy for a strain that was probably caused by my awkward twisting attempting to stay upright and not tumble under the moving traffic.  That also seems fine to me.  Finally, I also get compensated for my injuries.  This largely consisted of a cut on my lower leg.  About two inches long.  It was a bit of a slow healer...53 days or thereabouts.

How much is that worth?  £50?, £25? £5?

No nothing like that.

A whacking £1200.

I haven't asked for it.  They've offered it.  If that's how much such a small part of my body is worth, the whole thing must be worth millions.

I think I might sell it.

Naturally, it does explain why motor insurance premiums are so ridiculous...sorry.

Recently we were out to dinner with friends at Gordon Ramsay's new Union street Cafe.  This was the one that for a while it seemed the Beckhams were involved in running.  They weren't - it was a piece of PR puffery.  Those PRs!  Anyway, our friends are Spanish, so the table was booked for 8.30, which is a quite late, especially when 8.30 means 9.15 before we get shown to our table.  We had a lovely evening - our friends are the easiest and most interesting people to spend the evening with.  The conversation flowed freely and the time passed quickly - what more could you ask for?  The food was fine, but really nothing special...good chain restaurant standard, nothing more.

I think I forgot to mention that a couple of Saturdays ago we were Ghostbusting...it was a performance by Future Cinema, so we had a great day spent with The Muffins.  Ghostbusters manages to retain all its charm and humour after thirty years (!) and the Troxxy, where it was being shown was the perfect venue to have real actors playing out their parts.  The Cat went in an eighties outfit, I was more ghostbuster....and the ghostbusting car outside was a real treat.  I'd forgotten what a great, fun film it is, ad the event was superb. With scenes enacted throughout the auditorium both before and during the film itself.  The girls loved it.  We loved it.  A true treat for the whole family.

It's all bull

It's every parent's proudest moment and also their saddest.  Their child leaves home to face the challenges the world will throw at them as they stand on their own two feet.

The Cat went off to Uni in September, which is a wonderful half way house...catered accommodation, a structured environment, cosseted from the buffeting of economic realities.  But standing on her own two feet she must.  And she's doing well.

The Boy has now gone off to Kitzbuhel for the next five months.  A job offer in hand, but employer uncontactable for the last few weeks.  And on arrival, office closed.  Accommodation in a hostel booked for the next week, but nothing more permanent lined up.  Not a close friend to be found, although last year's instructor will be around soon we hope.  It's all a bit iffy.  No wonder I'm not sleeping much.  Bags under the eyes. No ability to concentrate. Uuurgh.  He seems less than worried and went off to a seasonaires party on the first night, which he describes as "Good party indeed".  I dread to think.

The weekend was spent doing important things like putting up the Christmas decorations.  I may have mentioned before (I have) that this is a military operation commanded by Chief of Staff The Cat's Mother. You would not believe just how many boxes of Christmas tosh decorations we have to transform home into a winter wonderland fit for Santa Claus.  Not only are there a lot, but they are kept in the loft on the third floor...it's so high up we have to wear an oxygen mask for visits of more than 2 minutes.  They all have to be brought down, emptied and then the empty boxes returned up the stairs ready for re-use in January.  No wonder I need regular doses of whisky to keep me going.  At least I don't need to head to the gym to keep fit in the run up to Christmas day.

Our grand christmas light switching on ceremony was in fact held a little earlier this year.  Christmas lights make the world such a lovely place, and our efforts in recent years have been quite poor...the result of old lights gradually stopping working and not being replaced.  So this year we invested half the UK's national debt into lights (I understand why Sainsbury's/Homebase are making fabulous profits at the moment) and decorated the 'umbrella' shaped tree in the front garden.  It looks lovely.

In the meantime, This little gem - it's a bull stealing the milk from the crates has appeared by the office.

Genocide adds a bit of depth and edge*

OK, this is The Cat's first step to fame eternal.  During the summer, she got involved in this film through one of her teachers.  It was very exciting for her and for us.  The plan is that it will be released next year...around August.  We're desperately proud (of course) and The Cat's Mother has already started shopping for her outfit for the Oscars, and another one for the BAFTAs.  In case you don't recognise her, she's the one at the front of the screen when the two girls are talking about 50 seconds in.  Hope you enjoy, and will pop along when it's released (I'm not saying it'll be in every cinema!)...and please share the video...she will remember you in her acceptance speech if you do.  As you can tell I am a little over excited....

Long Forgotten Fields - Official Trailer from Jon Stanford on Vimeo.

In the meantime, we all had a lovely time watching Doctor Who's 50th last weekend.  I'm not the greatest of fans; I do quite enjoy it.  But this was indeed excellent.  Of course we had to check out what the papers say, and obviously, the most thoughtful, considered, and appropriate was the Daily Mail which declared that, The Dr having been responsible for genocide added a bit of depth and edge to the character.  Naturally, we've taken that as our lead and feel that Mr Hitler, Mr Stalin and various other heroes who have been treated badly by the history books should be, perhaps, given their own plinth in Trafalgar Square.

* it seems the Mail has now removed this little gem which is a shame as I felt certain it would inspire may middle-Englanders to greatness