First Friday Photos

Isn't this year going quickly...just 49 days to Christmas I'm told. I think it was a hint.

Here's some pics I've taken this month...nothing particularly special - I think I must be losing my touch!

The ghostly baker:



A spidery friend:



He really does have two front legs:



They're just red lines:



Isn't the Med beautiful:



Cute dog:



Wouldn't you just sail away:



They built these churches...:



...after they built this one...seems extravagant to me:



grafitti in Lebanon:



Byblos port:



In Lebanon I wanted a picture of a cedar tree and this woman kept standing in front of it:



Leaf on cobbles:




There are two types of shoes shop in Lebanon:



...and this is the other:



statuettes in Beirut museum:



Hope you all have a fabulous weekend!

My best post ever

Yes, just for Tara's Gallery it's the Dog's B*ll*cks



I hope it makes you smile, like it does me!

Johnny No Mates

I can't say I'm not more than a little disappointed. In fact it's fair to say I'm 'heartbroken'. It's been my proud boast over the last several months that Lloyd Cole is following me on twitter. Being stalked by a celebrity I regard as an achievement of no small measure.

Last night we went to see the man playing at the Komedia in Brighton...it's a long way, but the fight through the rush hour traffic was worthwhile as he played brilliantly. So I tweeted to say how fab he was. I expected some sort of reply; at least an acknowledgement. But nothing. Not a single peep from the digital ether. How ungrateful.

It was only this morning that I looked through my list of followers on Twitter. It's not a long list. A quick glance was sufficient to see that Lloyd has abandoned me. I don't know why. I don't know what I've done. So my only lasting souvenir of the night is a couple of new CDs that he was flogging and the alcohol stickiness from the floor of the Komedia on the bottom of my shoes.

Perhaps tomorrow's performance in Islington will be better. Tube strike allowing.

In the meantime I need a brand new friend

Retail therapy

I'd been summoned to the bank this morning for a review. Well those were the words used by the schoolboy sitting in front of me, and I assume they were for the benefit of his teacher who was sitting next to him...and probably holding his hand. Whilst the reality was that I'd asked to see him - I always think that a regular face to face meeting is the best way of heading off any problems before they become PROBLEMS. But I'd been thrown for the second time in a week to be confronted by someone who should probably be spending their time studying or playing on an X-Box. It's most disconcerting indeed. Why am I staying the same age whilst the rest of the world gets younger?

The weekend had been full of its own challenges. We'd gone to a glass workshop to pick up a piece which we'd paid for a couple of months ago, but allowed them to keep as an exhibit for a while. I'd been in earlier on in the week to confirm we'd be there on Saturday to collect it, but was hardly surprised when it hadn't been packed up (it's very delicate so needs a lot of wrapping), nor had the artists autograph been collected as promised. In fact the girl at the counter (daughter of the owners) despaired at the hopelessness of the situation as she hadn't been told we'd be coming. "Too may cooks" she said. We went off for lunch and came back an hour later...

By contrast, the TV shop manager where we'd gone to get a new one nearly drove me to murder with his inability to stop talking and telling us completely irrelevant nonsense, "Do you have pets?" "No" "Well this one is good if you do" "We don't" "It's got a glass front so the screen won't get damaged if the dog should jump up". "All these are 3D" "We don't want 3D" "Well if you want 3D we've got this one, this one this one or this one". "We don't want 3D" "You'll have seen the Sony advertising" "No" "We'd like a 42" LED TV with Freeview HD" "Well the purest like a plasma screen, but that doesn't mean it's a better picture. There's no difference between LED and LCD expect the ambient lighting. LED TVs don't have a widget which LCD TVs have...and that's the bit that fails most often." etc, etc. I'd have walked out and gone to Richer Sounds, but The Cat's Mother wanted to buy at the local shop. I thought he got the message when he said "You seem as though you know what you're looking for", but that didn't seem to stop him and his verbal diarrhoea.

I'm never going shopping again. Actually I suspect I've turned into a grumpy old man. Fortunately we bought the TV that turns itself off if you fall asleep whilst watching it...and that may well come in at my time of life....

Life stages

There have been several distinct stages in The Boy's life:

1. From when he was born until his mum and I divorced...hopefully it was a happy secure environment for him in his earliest years

2. From our divorce through to his mum's divorce...two homes, two parents with separate lives

3. The years with me...the father/son relationship changing as we mutually supported eachother through the challenges of our new life

4. The current time, in a new family environmnet. Hopefully happy and secure.

This morning I was pitching to a possible new client. He runs a creative agency and a very bright, clever person he is. He's still at university and is just 21. That's just half a dozen years older than The Boy.

I felt positively old, and wonder how long it will be before The Boy takes up the reigns and gallops ahead of his father? Policemen are looking quite young too...

Vandalism

I really hope you remember this:



I published it having seen this magnificent picture on my daily journey to and from work first here and then wrote further about it here

They are magnificent pictures which give pleasure to many, many people, being far more accessible than 'high art' tucked away in a gallery.

It's a tragedy then that Hackney Council has decided that the hare is graffiti and has issued an order for the owners of the building to remove it within 14 days, failing which the council will themselves paint over it. No doubt they'll send a bill as well.

Of course this isn't the first time that the councillors of Hackney have taken it upon themselves to destroy art...see here and here.

Of course they're not alone - Transport for London did this

It wouldn't be so bad, but you can't turn your head in London without seeing a wall tagged in someway or other...and this graffiti is rarely if ever touched by the local authority.

Now I ask you who is the vandal?

The Piggy Pot

To get from Cyprus to the Lebanon, the plane climbs very steeply and then descends equally steeply...it's a very short flight, although as the travel agent had got the flight time wrong plus there was a further delay, we spent a long time in the newly opened Larnaca airport.

Of course in that short flight you go from The West to The Middle East and the culture changes...but the liberal ways of the Lebanese means it is the destination of choice for Arabs who need some 'oxygen'. You'll see fewer burqas in Beirut than you will in London.




Downtown Beirut



Well, what else would you eat in Lebanon...



Iranian style mosque



A rare sight...The Cat's Mother in the sea when we were in Cyprus



The green frog took refuge in the Bird of Paradise plant in Grandma in Cyprus' garden



It says "Do Not Cross". Still in Cyprus



Beirut by night



Loved this tree in Byblos



Byblos fishing port



...very popular with Iranian day-trippers



You take the cable car at Harissa



Those are bullet holes...many reminders of many battles



Soon to be demolished cinema



Playing dead



Baking Lebanese pizza - delicious with thyme



Drying soaps at the factory



An ancient Lebanese gnome



How cool is this!



Beautiful, beautiful statuettes



Lebanese wine...some of it is truly delicious



So the Star of David is not just a Jewish emblem



Nor is the swastika just Nazi or Hindu



Amazing Roman ruins at Baalbec



Judge the size by finding the people!



A very popular man - the Iranians are effectively paying for rebuilding the southern suburbs of Beirut, giving people money for new furniture after their homes were destroyed by the Israeli invasion, and providing a monthly income.


The night before we left on holiday, it was the OBs Dinner....amazingly everything had fallen into place. I got to practice being a bouncer - throwing out one very, very, very drunk individual. I was quite pleased as he was twice my height and indeed width, but I guess I had the authority of age. If all else fails, I guess it could mean a new career at any of the local clubs....

Generally drinking was more moderate than it had been...but I was amused that The Last To Leave was the headmistress, and I don't think I would be sued if I mentioned that she was somewhat cheerful...

Holiday

"So you've taken up residence then?" said The Cat's Mother's Mother.

Of course mother-in-laws are always terrifying, even when I usually go round feeling pretty grown up.

So no wonder I could only mumble into my boots in reply.

Anyway, I should be demob happy as we're away for a week...but before then I have to:

1. Finish organising the OBs Dinner tonight
2. Attend the OBs Dinner tonight
3. Stay sober at the OBs Dinner tonight
4. Do a day's work at the office...there's a mountain to be done. No doubt lots that I should have done won't get done, and I'll be found out in my absence
5. Make sure The Boy is properly packed...that means more than one pair of pants for the week
6. Get up at 2.30 a.m. to take The Boy and The Cat to school to joing their Berlin/Prague trip. The Cat's Mother will drive to the school. Unless we both decides to call them a taxi...
7. Write my cheerio blog entry. This one. I don't know why
8. Chase the Brighton cleaners who may or may not have been...who knows...
9. Chase a delivery that we need today
10. Do my own packing. Remembering the snorkel mask so The Cat's Mother can see the fish at Konnos Bay

11. Relax....

It's all in the timing

Oh dear, I've evidently titled a blog post 'It's all in the timing' before. I only know because Blogger told me. I wonder what it was about? Fortunately I read in the paper that they've developed a pill to stop you forgetting things. I may need an over-dose.

Apologies to Tara...I can't do your Photogallery this week...I simply can't think of a favourite photo...there are just too many for me to choose. Inspite of the politicians' claims, choice is not always a good thing!

The carpet shop rang today. "Mr Nota Bene, the bank has returned your cheque" They said. I turned a very tomato red colour, assuming that my flakiness meant that I'd paid with the wrong account. Or may be just didn't have the money in the first place. "They say your signature has changed so won't accept it". On the one hand, much relief. On the other instant annoyance. I'm not thirteen. My signature hasn't changed in thirty years. I apologised to the shop and transfered the money by internet banking. Then rang the bank. No apology from them. Merely a "You probably were rushing when you wrote the cheque". I assured her that when writing a cheque for several thousand pounds I NEVER rush. They suggested I go into the bank and re-signed the banking mandate. I suggested that if there had been a query they should have rung me as they hold a work number, a mobile number and a home number. And from there the conversation spiralled downwards. At some stage the supervisor came on the phone because I'd reduced the Customer Advisor at the UK's most complained about bank to tears. I may have been a little more conciliatory if I'd waited half an hour by which time I would have seen on the BBC that the bank is making 4,500 people redundant...most probably including the person I was speaking with. It's all in the timing.

And talking of timing. The Cat's Mother and I are off abroad next week. We fly on Sunday first to see Grandma in Cyprus and from there onto Beirut. That'll be the place that Sky News says, "Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad has begun a visit to Lebanon that heightens already mounting tensions in the country." He'll be in Beirut. Hopefully staying at his embassy and not the same hotel as us.

I hope we get an armed guard.

We think Big Ears has moved in....

We got up one morning this week to find this in the garden. The Cat's Mother says that it belongs to Big Ears, and that we will have Noddy driving his car past any time now....

Dinner time

The fabulously named Misty Weaver has sent me a press release about baby sign language. Better than that she has offered to write a blog post for me on the subject.

And best of all, she says, "Alternatively, if you prefer another topic just let me know and I can write anything of your choice. I look forward to hearing from you soon. Have a wonderful day!!!"

Suggestions on a postcard please

Nobody has ever accused me of being organised. Quite the contrary in fact. Indeed my desk is a testament to that saying...the one about tidy desk, tidy mind...in fact my life has been shambolic enough that last year I actually had to pay someone to open my post. I don't mean a few letters for the week before...I mean two or three or four years worth of envelopes which had carefully been stuffed in cardboard boxes. There was half a dozen of them, and I'd just never quite got round to doing it. actually truth be told I'd just been terrified of opening them in case I found anything untoward. Naturally, by not opening them I assumed any problems would go away. And if I ever get to be a celebrity, you can rest assured I won't be one of those Z listers who would go to the opening of an envelope...

...so I guess it was hardly surprising then that The Cat's Mother's jaw dropped to the ground when several months ago I volunteered (was volunteered) to organise this year's Old Boys (and Girls) Dinner. mmm I knew it was a risk (my failure will lead to the abject humiliation of The Boy as he gets ribbed by his friends) but I have been known to be quite adventurous.

The Cat's Mother is the most organised person in the wrold. She keeps every receipt. She goes through every bank statement every month. She goes through every credit card bill every month. Everything has its place. It's admirable. She even had an accountancy session when we were on holiday in Iceland. I have photo evidence to prove it.



I was very glad/pleased/relieved when she offered to help me sort out the ticket invitations which had variously arrived by e-mail, website booking, Facebook, by letter, on a post it note, on the booking form, and on a card. There were 146 of them. I've booked 135 with the caterer. I have some of the names in full, some just a surname, some a christian name, some just initials, one "I'll bring my sister", some who aren't on the database at all, and the odd reverend and cannon. We've even got Michael Jackson and Gordon Brown.

We've got to put them all into tables of ten; some have booked as groups of 12. Or 14.

Saturday, literally all of Saturday was taken up sorting this out...oh and I must order the wine yet. It's on Friday so I've got ages to go....I hope I don't get my just deserts.

He ain't heavy...

All my life I've lived a lie.

Last night I discovered something that came as quite a shock...on a par with discovering the world is round and not flat, being told that Santa isn't real and discovering that you can't touch your nose with your elbow.

I'm reeling, and am not sure when I'll be the same again....if ever.

Some counselling may well be necessary.

All my life I have been telling anyone who cares to ask that My Brother is fifteen months older than me. I'm sure this is what Grandma in Cyprus said all those many years ago and I have held that information dear to my heart, unquestioned all this very long time.

Yesterday it was My Brother's birthday. And for the first time in about 40 years we celebrated together. We met for a meal with His Better Half and The Cat's Mother - her first meeting with them. We chatted away pretty merrily for a couple of hours before the age subject came up. It was only then that clever clogs The Cats Mother pointed out that the difference in our ages was not fifteen months but a whopping 21 months. Somehow a whole half year had been gained. Or lost. I'm not sure which.

She thinks we're both daft. And has laughed at us mercilessly...as indeed did His Better Half. But if you're told something by your mum (who wasn't there to defend herself) why would you question it?

Anyway, I'm thrown, in a state of abject confusion and in need of support. I'm not the same person I was yesterday.

Well it's not been a great week...

...for screen icons. Ironically, as I post this, The Stranglers are on the radio singing No More Heroes

First Tony Curtis. I'm avoiding the obvious, as I remember him best from The Persuaders with Roger Moore. They don't make them like this any more:



And then Norman Wisdom - many happy childhood memories were created by this clown; again I'm avoiding the obvious:



Let's hope Michael Douglas is a real fighter...my favourite being Romancing The Stone

No Prime Minister!

The trials and tribulations of shared accommodation include the traumas of food in the fridge...you know you put some food items get pushed to the back and remain there for several months, gradually gathering mould that the science department would like to experiment on. Alternatively mysteriously your stuff goes in there one evening and the next day it's disappeared...and no one will own up to it. It's good to see that The Boy has begun the move towards shared living early....



Saturday night we went to see a comedy play.

It was about foreign paedophiles.

Yes, I thought so, it's not funny.

Especially when that play is Yes Prime Minister...based on the classic TV series that made great humour out of the complex relationship between politicians and civil servants. Generally the humour revolved around minutiae of policies and events that were not of any great significance. Immeasurably amusing.

So its a real shame that this play is way off the mark, and dwells on a topic that couldn't be described as amusing in any circumstances. How do the critics get it so wrong sometimes?