I'm a lucky boy...last night as I swung out of the yard where our office is, the rear tyre on the scooter blew out. I heard it go 'pop' and it was flat as a pancake in a second. But I managed to stay upright, and was within pushing distance to the local dealer who could fix it all before I set off for home. How good is that? If it happened when I was on the busy A12 during the rush hour as I zip along at 50mph, the story may have been different. Plus I get the bonus of thinking my riding skills are better than I though because I didn't topple over.
In principle I think it's a waste of time and brain power to spend time on regrets. After all what has happened has happened, and time is better spent on the present or the future. However, I've often been heard to say that if I had one criticism of my time at University it was that Exeter was 'a nice middle-class, home counties sort of place' and I don't believe the word 'radical' existed in any students' dictionaries. Now I'd say that's a bit of a shame because by the time you reach University you are well-enough educated to know a fair few things, but not part of the great down-trodden, so the opportunity and potential to rage against the machine is all there.
Students have taken to the streets to protest against the increase in University fees, and there's been a fair amount of unrest, and even a little violence. But they don't have my support. Not because I think fees should rise, but because they are too narrow-minded and limited in their ambition. University fees are but one tiny part of what is wrong with the world's sixth largest economy, and perhaps the world's third or fourth most developed society. And I can't help but feel that the girl who stood there trying to stop them from rolling the police van over on its side because 'someone might get hurt' is missing the point. It is the students who have the least to lose, they should be the free-thinkers...the people who could and should be radicalising society and pressing for change....for revolution on the streets.
Should I, a reasonably respectable middle-class father be saying it's time for revolution? Well yes I think I should. Many people have been shafted by the City over the last couple of years...I see more than amply qualified graduates on the dole, I see people who have saved for their retirement lose it all, I see previously successful people brought to their knees, whilst the City goes on oblivious to the mess it has created. Jeremy Paxman summed it up well this week when he said that it is a curiosity of twenty-first century capitalism that when the Banks get into trouble it becomes the State's problem. Pity the Irish...and the Portuguese to come. Our politicians are no better. Professional managers with no vision and no statesmanship they have been singularly ineffective...firstly allowing us to get into this mess, and secondly for allowing the financiers to get away with it. Perhaps it's because we have a political system that is inept and works against change...the X-Factor mentality permeates the entire voting public.
So we should all be out on the streets, demanding change. Real change. But of course we won't be...it's a bit chilly out there. We've all got our colour TVs, our cars, our semis in suburbia. We are comfortable, if a little bit annoyed. And if we make too much of a fuss, we could lose it all. After all, it's difficult to know the consequences of revolution. But we need it. No more middle-ground, too polite, grey-shade politics. If we don't get change now we never will. They system is flawed...it needs to be changed. For all our sakes...and for our children.
Friday, 26 November 2010
Thursday, 25 November 2010
So what do you think about this?
Its a picture created by the young artist Mark Sinckler using a photo from the 7/7 bombings. And it's caused upset in the tabloid media.
I think it has a rare beauty...and it's got me thinking about the people who were involved.
But then none of my family or friends were caught up in the events of the day.
Wednesday, 24 November 2010
Black and white
For this week's gallery, Tara left us to interpret the theme of black and white. I've chosen this particular photo. It hangs on the wall of our dining room, and was taken in The Natural History Museum when The Boy was nine. Some people can see two faces in the picture...it can be quite disconcerting...but I think it's very benign...or maybe sad...
Monday, 22 November 2010
Oh what a lovely war!
The Boy and The Cat were whisked away by the school on a trip to the 1st World War battlefields for the weekend. The Boy found a grave with the family name on...Bradstock. And then at another site, our surname. Of course it's always good to find these possible historic connections, until you start to think it through and realise that these were little more than boys who gave their lives in the terrible slaughter of the Great War. The school lost 160 former pupils aged between 18 and 24...and given that at the time it was a school of no more than 300, that is a remarkable and heart-rending statistic. It seems to have hit all the participants very hard. And if it teaches them a lesson for the future, then that is a good thing.
Back in the present day, a small battle...
Last week I was sent a council tax demand by Hackney Council. For a flat which had once upon a time been owned by The Boy's mother. For most of our marriage I didn't even know about it. Sometime after we divorced it was sold...about ten years ago. And after her death it transpired that she co-owned it with someone I'd never heard of. When I rang the council to explain, the only response I got was that they had sent the bill because I hadn't told them it had been sold. I tried to explain again. In words of one syllable. I got the same response. I tried to ask what had they been doing for the last ten years. I got the same response. So I explained in traditional English exactly what I thought about them. And put the phone down. I so hope they pursue this one through the courts.
I got another mailing from Hackney Council today. In fact it is for a property I do own. In the envelope was a 30 page colour brochure explaining what they spend the Council Tax on; a six page leaflet explaining what the Greater London Authority spends its money on; a 20 page council tax paying in booklet. And the bill. If you click on the image, and have good eye site, you can see the bill was for exactly £0.00. You may consider this a waste. I do. If you look even more closely right at the bottom it shows the council 'efficiency savings'. I couldn't possibly comment
Back in the present day, a small battle...
Last week I was sent a council tax demand by Hackney Council. For a flat which had once upon a time been owned by The Boy's mother. For most of our marriage I didn't even know about it. Sometime after we divorced it was sold...about ten years ago. And after her death it transpired that she co-owned it with someone I'd never heard of. When I rang the council to explain, the only response I got was that they had sent the bill because I hadn't told them it had been sold. I tried to explain again. In words of one syllable. I got the same response. I tried to ask what had they been doing for the last ten years. I got the same response. So I explained in traditional English exactly what I thought about them. And put the phone down. I so hope they pursue this one through the courts.
I got another mailing from Hackney Council today. In fact it is for a property I do own. In the envelope was a 30 page colour brochure explaining what they spend the Council Tax on; a six page leaflet explaining what the Greater London Authority spends its money on; a 20 page council tax paying in booklet. And the bill. If you click on the image, and have good eye site, you can see the bill was for exactly £0.00. You may consider this a waste. I do. If you look even more closely right at the bottom it shows the council 'efficiency savings'. I couldn't possibly comment
Friday, 19 November 2010
X-rated beauty
Beauty means different things to different people. I was walking around Bermondsey this week...it really is a fantastic, unknown part of London, and took the opportunity of snapping a few things that caught my eye:
Of course, beauty is more than skin deep as the people who created these pictures were trying to convey ...they're for a calendar, and rather different to the Pirelli calendar I used to get sent when I worked in the car industry:
*Pin-up Calendar 2010 was done by BUTTER, the advertising agency for for Eizo in Germany - their copyright acknowledged. Who says the Germans don't have a sense of humour?
Of course, beauty is more than skin deep as the people who created these pictures were trying to convey ...they're for a calendar, and rather different to the Pirelli calendar I used to get sent when I worked in the car industry:
*Pin-up Calendar 2010 was done by BUTTER, the advertising agency for for Eizo in Germany - their copyright acknowledged. Who says the Germans don't have a sense of humour?
Thursday, 18 November 2010
Taking her up the aisle....
We're not really Royalists The Boy and I. In fact I'm of the 'chop their heads off' persuasion....I'm not quite sure of The Boy's real views on the matter, but he is at least irreverent.
The Girls on the other hand are loyal subjects...and certainly love a good wedding.
So you can imagine, the amount of time and space being given over to the Royal wedding is driving me to distraction. On the day of the announcement, the BBC, as it always does, went off the deep end with its coverage. All day there was 'live coverage' filling the airwaves. Live coverage of what? They got engaged in October, they're not getting married until the spring at the earliest. They've been dating for eight years. There was nothing to talk about. Really absolutely nothing And more importantly, the days when we are all were passionate royalists are long gone. William's mother and father are probably to blame for that. Yet the BBC still insists on devoting ridiculous amounts of resources to this.
I'm not happy.
The morning after, The Times was giving away a souvenir poster, which The Boy put up...and then felt the need to decorate...
The Girls are not happy.
I am mercenary enough though to look forward to the inevitable public holiday, this will bring...
Whilst I'm on the subject of the media, I rather think they've got it all wrong with
Aung San Suu Kyi too. I'm delighted that she's been released...no one should be confined to home for a decade or more. There is, after all only so much tidyng up you can do. But in celebrating her release I suspect the world's media and our glorious leaders are being remarkably naive in suggesting that this is a step forward for Burma. She's been released by the military on their terms and their timing - days after an election which they engineered. They were the first elections for twenty years and it'll probably be another two decades before we see more elections there again. Her party remains banned. She is politically impotent, and if she says too much will doubtless be locked up for sedition. This is a real PR victory for the military.
And as these things always come in threes...I can't help but think that the Irish situation is yet another victory for the bankers...a state forced to take loans from the EU because the market says it should and not necessarily because they actually need to. In another age, it would be time for revolution...and I know who I'd be putting up against the wall first!
I may have got out of bed the wrong side this morning....
The Girls on the other hand are loyal subjects...and certainly love a good wedding.
So you can imagine, the amount of time and space being given over to the Royal wedding is driving me to distraction. On the day of the announcement, the BBC, as it always does, went off the deep end with its coverage. All day there was 'live coverage' filling the airwaves. Live coverage of what? They got engaged in October, they're not getting married until the spring at the earliest. They've been dating for eight years. There was nothing to talk about. Really absolutely nothing And more importantly, the days when we are all were passionate royalists are long gone. William's mother and father are probably to blame for that. Yet the BBC still insists on devoting ridiculous amounts of resources to this.
I'm not happy.
The morning after, The Times was giving away a souvenir poster, which The Boy put up...and then felt the need to decorate...
The Girls are not happy.
I am mercenary enough though to look forward to the inevitable public holiday, this will bring...
Whilst I'm on the subject of the media, I rather think they've got it all wrong with
Aung San Suu Kyi too. I'm delighted that she's been released...no one should be confined to home for a decade or more. There is, after all only so much tidyng up you can do. But in celebrating her release I suspect the world's media and our glorious leaders are being remarkably naive in suggesting that this is a step forward for Burma. She's been released by the military on their terms and their timing - days after an election which they engineered. They were the first elections for twenty years and it'll probably be another two decades before we see more elections there again. Her party remains banned. She is politically impotent, and if she says too much will doubtless be locked up for sedition. This is a real PR victory for the military.
And as these things always come in threes...I can't help but think that the Irish situation is yet another victory for the bankers...a state forced to take loans from the EU because the market says it should and not necessarily because they actually need to. In another age, it would be time for revolution...and I know who I'd be putting up against the wall first!
I may have got out of bed the wrong side this morning....
Wednesday, 17 November 2010
Before and after
...oh there is such a range of things that I thought of for this week's challenge...but I chose this image as the before
It was a beautifully designed contemporary clock which sat in the window in Brighton, casting a wonderful blue glow when the sun shone through the 12" glass disc. The Boy and I loved it.
We came home one Friday night having been away for a week to discover that some days previous a seagull..presumably a young one...had fallen down the chimney and into the flat. Heaven only knows what terrors went through its tiny little bird brain in the days and nights that it spent there. But this was the 'after':
I managed to catch it, by throwing a towel over it and carrying it down stairs. When I put it down on the grass outside, it hesitated for a moment before lifting off. I wish I'd got its address to send the 'bill' to...or perhaps I should have put it in front of a beak...
The clock never recovered.
It was a beautifully designed contemporary clock which sat in the window in Brighton, casting a wonderful blue glow when the sun shone through the 12" glass disc. The Boy and I loved it.
We came home one Friday night having been away for a week to discover that some days previous a seagull..presumably a young one...had fallen down the chimney and into the flat. Heaven only knows what terrors went through its tiny little bird brain in the days and nights that it spent there. But this was the 'after':
I managed to catch it, by throwing a towel over it and carrying it down stairs. When I put it down on the grass outside, it hesitated for a moment before lifting off. I wish I'd got its address to send the 'bill' to...or perhaps I should have put it in front of a beak...
The clock never recovered.
Tuesday, 16 November 2010
It's just not fair...
One of The Boy's friends has been grounded for 2 weeks and banned from alcohol for 4. He's fifteen. It doesn't seem a very harsh punishment for getting so drunk at Saturday's party that he spent the evening with his head down the great white phone to God, and then proceeded to heave ho in his Dad's Jaguar.
I gather he thinks "IT'S SOOOOOO UNFAIR!"
The Cat has homework every night, and it takes her from arrival home time until head on the pillow time to do it all. In between stopping for supper, chatting to a few friends on Facebook, listening to a few songs on iTunes, etc, etc, etc.
"IT'S SOOOOOOO UNFAIR!"
The Boy, on the other hand never has any homework to do at home, so spends the evening stealing The Cat's computer, watching TV, playing on X-Box, listening to iTunes, chatting with friends on Facebook, reading, watching YouTube, making a mess in every possible room. It's a mystery how and when he manages to get his homework done, but done it is. So I whooped with delight when he announced yesterday that he had an English essay to do last night.
That was the wrong thing to do.
How unreasonable of the teacher to set it. How ridiculous. Doesn't she realise he has a German test this week. That's a GCSE thing. That is more important. He needs to focus.
"IT'S SOOOOOOO UNFAIR!"
I offered no sympathy...the teacher says they need to understand the pressures of juggling deadlines. I understand her logic.
Later he suggested that he explains to the teacher he does the outline, and a bit more, and will complete it after the test...what do I think? I'm sympathetic, not really knowing what the teacher might say, what are the rules and suggest he discusses it with her. But then I discover the essay was set last week...he had all weekend to do it. A weekend that was spent doing sweet FA. Apart from partying.
Sympathy goes out the window.
I'm in trouble again. "IT'S SOOOOOOO UNFAIR!"
I gather he thinks "IT'S SOOOOOO UNFAIR!"
The Cat has homework every night, and it takes her from arrival home time until head on the pillow time to do it all. In between stopping for supper, chatting to a few friends on Facebook, listening to a few songs on iTunes, etc, etc, etc.
"IT'S SOOOOOOO UNFAIR!"
The Boy, on the other hand never has any homework to do at home, so spends the evening stealing The Cat's computer, watching TV, playing on X-Box, listening to iTunes, chatting with friends on Facebook, reading, watching YouTube, making a mess in every possible room. It's a mystery how and when he manages to get his homework done, but done it is. So I whooped with delight when he announced yesterday that he had an English essay to do last night.
That was the wrong thing to do.
How unreasonable of the teacher to set it. How ridiculous. Doesn't she realise he has a German test this week. That's a GCSE thing. That is more important. He needs to focus.
"IT'S SOOOOOOO UNFAIR!"
I offered no sympathy...the teacher says they need to understand the pressures of juggling deadlines. I understand her logic.
Later he suggested that he explains to the teacher he does the outline, and a bit more, and will complete it after the test...what do I think? I'm sympathetic, not really knowing what the teacher might say, what are the rules and suggest he discusses it with her. But then I discover the essay was set last week...he had all weekend to do it. A weekend that was spent doing sweet FA. Apart from partying.
Sympathy goes out the window.
I'm in trouble again. "IT'S SOOOOOOO UNFAIR!"
Sunday, 14 November 2010
J(o)e le taxi
The Cat's Mother skived off parental duties for the weekend by absconding for a couple of days away with the girls...
It's been a busy weekend:
Friday:
I picked up The Cat from school, with her friend and brought them home to get changed for a party
I picked The Cat and The Boy up from the party at Midnight
Saturday:
I drove The Cat and The Boy to a friend's party at 7.00
I picked The Cat and The Boy up from the party at 11.00
Sunday
I drove The Boy to the Remembrance Day parade at 8.45
I picked The Boy up from the parade at 11.20
I drove The Cat to school for a play rehearsal at 12.45
I picked the Cat up from school at 2.30
I drove The Cat to babysit for friends at 5.00
I know it's every parent's chore and I'm so glad I'm fully into the swing of things...
It's been a busy weekend:
Friday:
I picked up The Cat from school, with her friend and brought them home to get changed for a party
I picked The Cat and The Boy up from the party at Midnight
Saturday:
I drove The Cat and The Boy to a friend's party at 7.00
I picked The Cat and The Boy up from the party at 11.00
Sunday
I drove The Boy to the Remembrance Day parade at 8.45
I picked The Boy up from the parade at 11.20
I drove The Cat to school for a play rehearsal at 12.45
I picked the Cat up from school at 2.30
I drove The Cat to babysit for friends at 5.00
I know it's every parent's chore and I'm so glad I'm fully into the swing of things...
Friday, 12 November 2010
I can say no more...
...but last night The Cat's Mother and I went to the Secret Cinema. We arrived in our dressing gowns. It was fantastic...quite disconcerting...but I'm bound to secrecy until November 23rd...have a look here to get the flavour of past events. If you're a film buff, this is an amazing experience.
In the meantime, The Cat's Mother has gone off for for a spa weekend leaving me in charge of the teenagers. Either they or I may not survive....
In the meantime, The Cat's Mother has gone off for for a spa weekend leaving me in charge of the teenagers. Either they or I may not survive....
Thursday, 11 November 2010
Je suis desolé
The Boy and The Cat enjoy linguistics...in The Boy's case, German is his thing. The Cat is partial to a bit of ancient Greek. They both study French, and speak it pretty well. At least in the class room. The Cat's Mother and I have tried to promote this by declaring French only half hours. No English is permitted. A lack of vocabulary is no excuse whatever the topic of the conversation.
The downside is that neither of The Cat's Mother nor I are remember much French, so we bumble along in pidgin Franglais...which we both find hilarious. Generally the youngsters sit there stony faced, or storm out declaring us to be ridiculous. We look at each other confused...
I've never been much of a linguist, and my particular gig is an obsession with news. Local news, national news, international news...I just have to know what's going on. If I had a garden fence I think I'd be there gossipping with the neighbours...
On my computer then I have homepages for the BBC, Sky News, the Evening Standard, Brighton & Hove Argus, Euronews, France 24, Al Jazeera, The First Post, China Daily and Russia Today. I can never get enough.
Russia Today is the easiest and best way of knowing what's going on in Russia. And I am delighted to say, that at my age I have decided that now is the time for me to learn a new language. Russian seems to be the way to go. Naturally, my interest is entirely stimulated by a visit to the country earlier this year, having studied Russian politics at University...and of course, Russia will be one of the superpowers in the new world order. Russia Today has helpfully supplied a link to their favoured language learning specialist, and I hope you will take the opportunity of learning this very special language here Marina Orlova is the sort of language teacher I've always felt I deserved
Somehow, I don't think the BBC would provide this type of service...and I think with this sort of teaching, my 'O' Level language grades would have been much higher
The downside is that neither of The Cat's Mother nor I are remember much French, so we bumble along in pidgin Franglais...which we both find hilarious. Generally the youngsters sit there stony faced, or storm out declaring us to be ridiculous. We look at each other confused...
I've never been much of a linguist, and my particular gig is an obsession with news. Local news, national news, international news...I just have to know what's going on. If I had a garden fence I think I'd be there gossipping with the neighbours...
On my computer then I have homepages for the BBC, Sky News, the Evening Standard, Brighton & Hove Argus, Euronews, France 24, Al Jazeera, The First Post, China Daily and Russia Today. I can never get enough.
Russia Today is the easiest and best way of knowing what's going on in Russia. And I am delighted to say, that at my age I have decided that now is the time for me to learn a new language. Russian seems to be the way to go. Naturally, my interest is entirely stimulated by a visit to the country earlier this year, having studied Russian politics at University...and of course, Russia will be one of the superpowers in the new world order. Russia Today has helpfully supplied a link to their favoured language learning specialist, and I hope you will take the opportunity of learning this very special language here Marina Orlova is the sort of language teacher I've always felt I deserved
Somehow, I don't think the BBC would provide this type of service...and I think with this sort of teaching, my 'O' Level language grades would have been much higher
Wednesday, 10 November 2010
Seasons greetings
Tara has picked seasons as this week's gallery theme...so do go and enjoy...
I thought I could cheat, and use this picture...it's The Four Seasons Hotel in Beirut..but that misses the point I guess....
It does seem that these days, seasons are not quite what you expect -
Summer? No this was early November in Cyprus
The true colours of autumn
Winter? No..snow covered cycles from April
Spring as we expect it...the trees spring into life contrasting with the grave beneath
It must be summer - Christmas menu in the restaurant in August
Summer can only mean one thing these days...a rock festival
Winter? No summer in Iceland....
This is winter in Hereford...2009
I thought I could cheat, and use this picture...it's The Four Seasons Hotel in Beirut..but that misses the point I guess....
It does seem that these days, seasons are not quite what you expect -
Summer? No this was early November in Cyprus
The true colours of autumn
Winter? No..snow covered cycles from April
Spring as we expect it...the trees spring into life contrasting with the grave beneath
It must be summer - Christmas menu in the restaurant in August
Summer can only mean one thing these days...a rock festival
Winter? No summer in Iceland....
This is winter in Hereford...2009
Tuesday, 9 November 2010
Shhhhhhhhhh!
On Thursday evening The Cat's Mother and I are going out.
We have been instructed by the organisers to meet at a London Tube station in the rush hour wearing a dressing gown. We must bring a first class stamp.
I can say no more.
I may have said too much already.
We have been instructed by the organisers to meet at a London Tube station in the rush hour wearing a dressing gown. We must bring a first class stamp.
I can say no more.
I may have said too much already.
Monday, 8 November 2010
The only way is Essex
On the one hand, Sunday evening has been significantly enhanced by the presence of Downton Abbey...especially last night when we watched it on our new HD, 42" LCD TV...all bright colours, hi fi sound...and a good way to dumb down before the start of the week...anyway it's been a lot of fun, and we're addicted enough that The Cat's Mother's brother came round for dinner, but was ushered away before the opening credits started to role...
...on the other we have tried to watch more than 10 minutes of The only way is Essex...ITV 2's 'reality series'. The thing is, we know all the places they hang out, visit, spend their money in...Essex does indeed have more than its fair share of flash cash and awful, awful people. It's like watching a very dull cartoon or a car crash in slow motion. Anyway, have a quick look...if you can manage more than 10 minutes, you are doing well. Worryingly, they'll be filming at The Boy's school this week..the headmistress feels that it's not a widely known school, so she seizes TV opportunities like this and the monotonous Allen Davies programmes as a way of getting it better known.. Sometimes Any Publicity is NOT better than No Publicity...
It was party weekend this weekend...The Boy went to one on Friday and one on Saturday...The Cat went to the same one on Friday. They returned Friday night to find The Cat's Mother and I asleep on the sofa...oh dear. The Boy returned at 2.00 am on Saturday night, having helped a friend home after he'd had a many, many too many. Three of which had been his reward from his mates for managing to 'Get off' with someone...in this case I'm not sure what 'Get off' means. I don't want to know. Another girl managed to get so drunk BEFORE the party that she threw up over her friends going to the event...in their mother's car. I'd share a photo of the girls in their party outfits, but you may find it easier to reach up to the top shelf of your local newsagent.
I feel that age thing coming knocking again. Especially as our Saturday night out was spent at the local golf club's Annual Dinner Dance. My defence is that I don't play golf.
...on the other we have tried to watch more than 10 minutes of The only way is Essex...ITV 2's 'reality series'. The thing is, we know all the places they hang out, visit, spend their money in...Essex does indeed have more than its fair share of flash cash and awful, awful people. It's like watching a very dull cartoon or a car crash in slow motion. Anyway, have a quick look...if you can manage more than 10 minutes, you are doing well. Worryingly, they'll be filming at The Boy's school this week..the headmistress feels that it's not a widely known school, so she seizes TV opportunities like this and the monotonous Allen Davies programmes as a way of getting it better known.. Sometimes Any Publicity is NOT better than No Publicity...
It was party weekend this weekend...The Boy went to one on Friday and one on Saturday...The Cat went to the same one on Friday. They returned Friday night to find The Cat's Mother and I asleep on the sofa...oh dear. The Boy returned at 2.00 am on Saturday night, having helped a friend home after he'd had a many, many too many. Three of which had been his reward from his mates for managing to 'Get off' with someone...in this case I'm not sure what 'Get off' means. I don't want to know. Another girl managed to get so drunk BEFORE the party that she threw up over her friends going to the event...in their mother's car. I'd share a photo of the girls in their party outfits, but you may find it easier to reach up to the top shelf of your local newsagent.
I feel that age thing coming knocking again. Especially as our Saturday night out was spent at the local golf club's Annual Dinner Dance. My defence is that I don't play golf.
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