Room 101

For our trip to Zermatt, we were allocated rooms 206, 107 and 101. It is with a certain sense of irony, that The Cat's Mother and I didn't get Room 101. We are the ones who had our Room 101 moments.

We've been watching Top Gear for as long as I can remember, of course we have - it's a boy's favourite. The Cat's Mother is a recent fan...not so much of the weekly show, but of the 'Specials' - driving across South America, driving to the North Pole, driving to the Holy Land. A regular quote, erm quoted here, is 'Poo is coming out' when something goes wrong. As we all know this was Jeremy Clarkson when driving the Road of Death. Many people object to Mr Clarkson for his outrageous views and outspoken-ness. He can be really quite offensive. But I've always felt this was his TV personality, and the real Mr Clarkson was a different beast. My chance to find out was at a bar half way up the slopes where we happened to bump into the man. Much to the embarrassment of the Teens, I went up and said hello, "Excuse me Mr Clarkson, would it be very rude to ask to have a picture taken with you?". "To be honest I've got the worst migraine I've had for years and I'd rather not", he said. "I hope you've got something for it" "I've just taken two pills and vommed them up", he replied. So we left him in peace. Clearly he was suffering his own private Room 101.

The Cat's Mother's Room 101 is simply skiing. She takes no pleasure from it at all. In fact it strikes terror into her, so on her second skiing trip, which this was, she hasn't made it out of the nursery. Simple terror that she will slide down the mountain and nothing will stop her. Completely irrational, but that's what makes it her Room 101.

Mine is more rational. It is just getting communications from home.
And this holiday was the worst ever:
Saturday - new tenants needing a key which they hadn't been supplied with
Sunday - other tenants' boiler going wrong
Monday - letting agent wanting to renegotiate a tenancy
Tuesday - The French Girl off sick, leaving the office empty
Wednesday - other tenants "Hi hope you're having a good holiday. I don't want to disturb you, but...."
Thursday - new tenants at 8 o'clock in the evening: "Hope you're enjoying Switzerland. Can we install Sky?"

So yes, for my holiday, I got Friday free from interruption.

Getting those texts were my Room 101.

Apart from that, the holiday was fantastic. Zermatt is great, the journey there was fab, and we all had a wonderful time. And I managed to keep an eye on my favourite hobby...middle-eastern chaos.

All come together

It's time for a slight pause. A little leave of absence. Because it is.....
.....SKIING time!

Instead of The Cat's Mother's impeccable organisational skills, the whole shambles has been put in my hands. So first The Boy chose the destination...Zermatt...on the basis he'd been there before and loved it. Then around Christmas time we went on the interweb to find a hotel...not surprisingly most places were booked, but we found one. The Hotel Bristol. It turns out to be directly opposite a noisy bar we have just discovered. But I think we're at the back of the hotel...no Matterhorn view, but blissful silence. Then some weeks later we thought it would be a good idea to find some way of getting there. Normally you fly to Zurich and take a 3 hour train journey. The flights were full. Dantes Hell (otherwise known as Geneva) beckoned until a little angel found us a flight to a place called Sion. As it turns out this is the best route, and the train journey is just an hour. Plus we get to fly at civilised times. Then we had to book ski lessons. For half term week. There are 8 of us with varying degrees of expertise including two little children. We thought we would be teaching ourselves, until the magic wand was waved again, and a highly rated school could take us, pretty much at the times we want. Ski hire is booked, the taxis are booked. We're ready for the off. So in traditional fashion, all has perfectly come together at the last minute. That's not to say it hasn't been stressful for The Cat's Mother. It has. But we're still talking. And not even just.

At home, there's been something else I've been sorting out. A big step, and it should all come together tomorrow. But it's a big step, and I daren't say, just in case. I shall turn my mobile off so I won't know until I get back.

Meanwhile I will be keeping an eye of the middle east. It looks as if it's not going to settle down, and we could be seeing a fundamental shift in the region. Bahrain is getting violent, but the government there is quite harsh. It could turn into a Sunni vs Shia fight. And that has pretty significant implications. Rioting in Libya? Yes, but rumour has it that Gaddaffi will join in the protests against the government...the man's a genius! And else where too protests and demands for change. It will make a fascinating study...five years from here.

And that's it. Have fun. Think of me. Send me a postcard. I'll be thinking of you all.



Oh yes, just before I go...I was sent this. Seems like a really good idea to me, so unusually I'm just pasting it up...please pass it on:

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We work with over 250 charities and have raised over £200,000 in the past year through car donation, and work with scrapyards and salvage operators to ensure cars are sold for their maximum value – thus providing the maximum donation to charity.

We are an environmentally friendly operation, recommended by Keep Britain Tidy and recently covered by the Ecologist: http://www.theecologist.org/green_green_living/out_and_about/687787/recycle_your_car_dont_scrap_it.html

We want to make sure that as many people as possible are aware of the environmental benefits of car donation, and would really appreciate your help!"

I love Maggie Thatcher

OK, OK, OK I'm only joking. I know I shouldn't joke about these things. It's Meryl Streep I've got a soft spot for. So it was a shame that yesterday whilst they were filming The Iron Lady, Meryl wasn't actually there. Meryl as Thatcher has been plastered all over the national press this week, so I hope you know what I'm talking about. This was a scene about her younger life in the grocery shop in Grantham. It was all very exciting, and as far as I can work out it went on all night....they were still clearing up as I arrived for work this morning. I didn't get to speak to the Lady herself, but I got a few of the girls to pose for me, and they were very obliging as they were just about to skip down the street. Why Bermondsey St was chosen to represent Grantham I'll never know. A shop that's been deserted for as long as I remember was transformed over the last few days into a very passable grocers. Maggie was sweeping up outside. Or was it Maggie's mum?















We seem stuck in a late 1940's warp, as that was the theme of Secret Cinema...but I can say no more

As for the Iron Lady herself, history will be her judge. Even now, the 'Maggie experience' seems too fresh in people's minds. To my mind, she succeeded in dragging Britain into the modern world able to compete as an economic force again. But at a terrible social cost. Many would argue, that's exactly what Stalin did, but I think comparisons like that may be a little harsh. Her legacy is certainly the selfish exploitative capitalism that we see operating today (back to those bankers again) and a raft of the population who have such a pathological hatred of the Conservatives that they will never vote Tory and have complete contempt for anything Conservative - regardless of what policies they pursue.

Together?

Over night, I had a message from Facebook to say that someone had tried to access my account from an unusual location...so I had visions of the account having been hacked, my friends deleted, and all sorts of unusual past times added. The Boy calls it Frape. Isn't it strange how the young have used a very emotive term for an online activity. His crowd seem to do it all the time and think it's very funny. To prove that I am who I claim to be, I had to identify friends from 'tags' in their or other people's photos. I'm not sure why, but Facebook seemed to choose the most difficult, small photos and not my closest friends. Damn it was hard. I must wear my glasses. I got through, but could just as easily have been locked out. No more on line togetherness for me.

I had to I've skipped the last couple of galleries from Tara - just sometimes, I've got nothing to contribute. But this week, I thought I would join in the scrum (well it's Six Nations time) with the theme being togetherness. Here's the photo:



Technically its a pants photo, but as ever it's what it says that counts. So here's The Boy with a big grin, and The Cat looking on indulgently. It totally sums up their sibling-like relationship which has made an enormous leap from their original friendship. The Boy is always quite a handful...he bounces around like Tigger...and has a vibrant energy. The Cat is more considered, thoughtful. They both have a lot to put up with. They joke together, they squabble together, they play together. I'm glad they're together.

The Gallery is here.

Of course I could have chosen this one....the sandwich is a regular occurence...and always just as manic

Over inflated

The Boy is completely deflated, just a couple of weeks after fighting off yet another cold,he's gone down again. Not enough exercise I hear you cry! Yes indeed, he should be forced out into the cold to stretch a few muscles and build himself up again. After all, a young man consigned to his bed with a snotty nose is not a happy lad. So it's a good job, we're off to the slopes of Switzerland on Saturday. If that tingling is anything to go by, I may well be sneezing for the duration. I'm taking pre-emptive Lemsip and whisky.

We went off to see Brighton Rock in Brighton on Sunday. And two hours of unadulterated menace it was too. A very effective update of the original, although as a 'local' I couldn't help be disappointed that most of it was filmed in Eastbourne...but then many people do go to die there anyway. On the way home, the weather was suitably blustery and wet, so we went via the arches in Madeira Drive to see where the first slashing takes place. It was a rounded experience.



And in line with my need for a full experience, we're off to 'Secret Cinema' again. Don't know what they're showing, or where, but it's an exciting prospect. In a nod to the 'late 40's' clues I'm wearing a hat. I assume they mean the 1940's rather than a reference to my age.

And in a few weeks time we're seeing Diva at the ENO, with an operatic performance before hand. The flea pit was never like this.



I've been hauled over the coals for some of my Egyptian commentary, so just to set the record straight. I'm sure they will sort out their own affairs by themselves. Egypt is a big, proud nation with an established political system that is going through massive change. But once that change has happened, as a pivotal nation in the Middle East, foreign countries will seek influence, whether we like it or not. It would be impossible to sum up the situation in a few short lines, so just think of this as me skimming the surface like a stone, before sinking into oblivion!

And now you've got me going, here's a thought about inflation and interest rates. As I studied politics and economics at Uni, I think I'm not entirely unqualified to stick my oar in. Or at least raise a few questions. But I'm happy for anyone to put me in my little box. Inflation is up again, and there's much talk of raising interest rates. A traditional cure for roaring inflation. But I've always argued that there is more than one type of inflation. There's the sort that comes from a run away economy and is driven by rising consumer demand. And then there is another type. The type caused by rising demand elsewhere, pushing commodity prices up here. And that is what we are seeing at the moment, fuelled by the monopoly money printing that the Bank of England indulged in last year. Here in Blighty demand is pretty low, confidence is pretty low. As an example, petrol and diesel prices are sky-high...yet UK consumption is way down. We're avoiding driving because we can't afford it. And if you increase interest rates, the only impact will be to drive down demand, crush confidence and reduce economic activity further. The solution would be to reduce interest rates. Except we can't. So just leave well alone. err I think.

Only three certainties in life

I've had my daily, weekly, monthly and indeed annual battles with the tax man since I was old enough to be earning a wage. As I've got older and my finances more complicated, those battles have got bigger and nastier. Of course ultimately they always have the winning hand, as they proved once by failing to cash a cheque that I'd sent them a month previously, only to take me to court for failing to pay, win, and then cash the cheque the same day. Yep, that's the sort of people they are.

I wouldn't mind so much if it was for the advertising they insist on spending our money on telling us how wonderful and easy going and helpful they are. One day I will complain to the Advertising Standards Authority.

Today, however, they proved themselves utterly, utterly stupid. As The Boy is nearly sixteen, it's time for him to get a national insurance number. So I got a letter, asking me to check they had his name right. It wasn't. In fact it wasn't even close. Not even the right surname. Yes I can allow a mistake, even if all the official records of the lad have been accurate since the day he was born. Although it did remind me of one of my favourite films...terry Gilliam's Brazil:



But that's not what's got me going. To return the form with the corrected form, they give you an envelope. An envelope which is just about a quarter of an inch to narrow and a quarter of an inch to short to put the form in. So effectively you have to screw the form up to send it back. The rest of the world can buy the right size envelopes, why can't HMRC?

In the meantime, I think we're a long way from settling the Egyptian question...after all the military command is part of the traditional ruling elite. I'm still betting on bloodshed. The UK and the US have been making a pigs ear of the situation, leaving the door wide open for the Iranians, the Chinese and the Russians. Probably in that order. Bravo.

Friends reunited

On Twitter I've started following various Egyptians...I may be becoming obsessed with this whole revolution thing. But then I think it could reshape the world. I feel for them after all the hopes that were raised yesterday were dashed by Mubarak.

I must be getting soft in my old, my last post was all about Facebook, and here we are friends reunited. Being friendly is not my natural state.

There was one of those mobile phone conversations in our home this week. You know, the ones that go "JESUS CHRIST YOUR BILL THIS MONTH IS FORTY QUID." This on a £15 tariff that gives unlimited texts and 300 minutes of calls. Fortunately,common sense took over, and before World War 3 broke out, we headed to bed to sleep on it and had a sensible talk the following day. It's nice when you can do that. I'm quite a battler, but in all honesty, I'd rather not go head to head. I think the outcome was good for us both. As it turns out, one of the most frightening charges was £5.58 for one call to directory enquiries...you know the one with the moustaches. The enquiry itself had cost £2.73, but he had then been put through to the number. Wowzer. Anyway, they have agreed to refund the cost. But that's a real lesson.

Grandma in Cyprus pointed out that last Friday was the first Friday of the month, so it should have been First Friday Photos. But I forgot; I had other things on my mind. And I'm not really taking so many pictures at the moment. Some people have constipation, some people have writers block, I'm just going through image emasculation. It may just be that both The Cat and The Boy got fantastic cameras for Christmas so I'm feeling long lens envy.

But here, in any case, is a picture:



This is the 2010 annual reunion of the old boys. This was taken last night. Yes 2010 has spilled into 2011. The sharper eyed of you will have noticed that not all of those present are male. Although as we went to boarding school, I guess it's entirely possible that some of us wear dresses. But we don't. We had a few girls in the sixth form, and one of them popped along to say hello. The other I'm not sure why she was there...lovely lady, was also at the school but I couldn't work out how she was invited. Perhaps we've reached that age where we need female company. So in no particular order... there is one person who had worked for a company for twenty years which went into receivership last year; there is one person who gave up running his own business last year because "there's only so much you can borrow"; there's one person who now works with his wife from home running training courses as he's never got back on the corporate bandwagon after falling off a few years back; there's one person who was a children's programme producer for the BBC giving up marriage and children to pursue a career only to become freelance last year; there's one person whose daughter achieved notoriety by running off with a famous pop star's husband, there's one person who is so important that his salary would make a Premier division footballer blush. And then there's me.

We all had a brilliant time.

Pass the Berocca.

Friends old and new

I've not seen Social Networking...I hear it's a good film; I see it's up for an Oscar or two. It may even beat The King's Speech, which would be a shame, as I know, I just know, that Colin Firth is better. And I don't even like Royalty. In fact I'd have happily been in Piccadilly shouting off with their heads.

I remember a very, very long time ago being introduced to Facebook. A client mentioned it and saw the potential for marketing purposes. He's clearly a cleverer man than me, because when I went and had a look I thought it was a dating website. After all, it asked my relationship status, and was I interested in boys or girls. I felt obliged to sign up, but then for several years didn't look at it from one month to the next, occasionally gathering friends until I had about 15 of them. That's Johnny no mates level.

In the meantime, the world moved on, and The Boy and his generation realised it was a brilliant way of keeping in touch. If only Aunts and Grandmas would use it, they could even avoid writing thank you notes after Christmas. They haven't yet spotted that the bacchanalian photos will blight their careers for life.

A couple of years ago, I realised that I was in danger of being left behind, so started Facebooking properly, and building up a bank of REAL friends on Facebook. It even identified someone I'd not been in touch with for nigh on twenty years, and as far as I could work out there was no obvious link or common friends. I was pleased to have been put back in touch.

With access on my mobile, I began to actually enjoy it. Annoyingly though, it kept popping up with a little notification about my friends who had found more friends using friend finder. I ignored it, but the drip, drip, drip of repetition finally got to me, so yesterday I clicked on the button. And a peculiar thing happened, it revealed the names of people who have left a comment on Don't Panic. I clicked away, so you may well have a friendship request from me. I'm pleased to have got acceptances back...from people who I already regarded as friends...but for anyone who has got a strange request from some middle aged bloke they don't know...that'll be me! I won't be offended to be ignored or declined.

My mistake was then to get carried away, and I've ended up with a client who is now a Facebook friend, and I've spent many a pub hour telling people to keep Facebook for personal stuff. I've been hoisted.

There were a thousand or more other suggestions for friends from Mark Zuckerberg, many of them The Boy's school chums, but I'm not sure befriending sixteen year old girls is a good thing.

Liquorice Allsorts

There's been a fair few mistakes in my life, but none bigger, I think, than deciding to follow the Top 10 design blogs. They seem to publish hourly so all the interesting blogs I like to read just get lost. It was one of those 'it seemed a good idea at the time' moments that you have when you're drunk. Not that I was, so I have no excuse.

On other blogging matters, I've discovered that I've rocketed up from being number 5 in the list of Daddy Bloggers to number 4. And I've returned to the Tots 100 list at number 80, up 188 places. I've no idea why, I'm not doing anything different. I guess everyone else is slacking and needs to pull their socks up. I'm sure there's many a pop star that would like to achieve the same in this week's 'Hit Parade' as they used to say. You can tell I've recently watched The Boat That Rocks again...it makes us all laugh and has a great soundtrack.

The ongoing disturbances in the Middle East are fascinating me...I can't keep away from the news. The UK's most well paid MP (William Hague) is currently trotting around the area shoring up the defences of British foreign policy. As well he might, we created half the mess there in the first place. Egypt is the key...I can't see how it won't get messy.

And it looks like the bankers are finally beginning to be forced to clear up the mess they made. Mind you I detect a large element of spin going on...the amount they are being forced to lend is a pitiful increase on last year, and at the rates they are charging, it's no great help to any business. Bonuses are still being paid at levels that make my eyes water....we could do with some of that Egyptian spirit here.

Closer to home, The Boy has made his A level choices...German, Geography, History and English. IMHO great choices, and all subjects he loves, so that should help over the next couple of years. The Cat is still deciding. And quite possibly will be five minutes before the deadline. She's very good academically, so whatever she chooses she'll do well - but that doesn't help her narrow her choices. It's hard for The Cat's Mother (and me a little bit)to provide the right guidance.

I might suggest a lucky dip.

Jobsworth

It seems the Americans have gone into panic overdrive in the Middle East. Their overt posturing in the last few weeks has achieved very little by way of the positive, and now it seems Obama's administration is sending out mixed and muddled messages....or at least it doesn't know whether it's coming or going. The West has spent years, decades, centuries meddling in the affairs of the middle east...and it is even possible that now we will lose all influence by having backed the wrong horses. That will create an interesting scenario. As you can tell, I find the whole middle-east fascinating.

The Boy and The Cat are now of an age where the school wants them to do some work experience. Fingers crossed and with a following breeze, The Cat may be sorted doing some stuff at The Globe...it may yet not happen, but there are 'contacts'. So that's all good. The Boy is more tricky, my own network is generally made up of micro-businesses that have enough trouble looking after themselves let alone a teenager for a couple of weeks. I feel some pressure to sort some thing. He, given half a chance would like to do something related to his German learnings....I hope the school can help. But who knows. So if you have any ideas they will be more than gratefully received.

And in other news, work for me is changing too. After fifteen years hard slog pushing sand uphill, it's all getting a bit hairy, so I'm looking at how I shape my working future. I'm not the only one. A friend who sold his agency and has been living in Devon with wife and kids copy writing has found it so tough going that he is beginning to look for a job...that may mean him returning to London. The consequences for his family life can't be good.

I've had to make The French Girl who's worked with me for the last six years redundant. I've reached a stage where I can't keep pouring money into the business. She's just bought a flat and a new car with her boyfriend. That's really hard...I know what it feels like having been at the receiving end in previous lives. Jobs, of course, are not just jobs...they are your entire life, so it has a terrible, terrible impact. For me, there are always options, and fortunately the office is not my only (or even main) source of income...and I have some exciting opportunities to explore. The plan has always been to stop this when The Boy goes off to University, so we're working two years ahead of schedule. Ahead of schedule sounds good doesn't it?! But it seems a bleak 2011 at the moment. Recessions are all about change, but the economy seems woefully unbalanced and the Government quite ineffective are creating a vision for the future.

Broken promises

I've spent my entire working life in PR. So I know the press pretty well. Inspite of the glamour that goes with it, it is a pretty harsh life. Strangely full of disappointments, and having to sell your soul on someone else's behalf. And that generally explains why there are so few nice people in PR.

On Friday, there was an urgent request for people to talk about leaving their kids at home alone. What age is it OK to do that. Legally, there's no set age...any age is fine, providing nothing goes wrong...if it does, then you're in the poo.

I started leaving The Boy at 11 to allow me to get out of an evening. I always used to tell people (and I may have told you before) that I'd always left him playing with matches and sharp knives with the front door open. One night, I came home to the smell of burning.

He'd been doing some history, making a poster for some Elizabethan period homework. To make it authentic, he'd cut it roughly, smeared it with a damp teabag before burning the edges.

I thought it was a good little story, and so did the journalist on The Sunday Times. They would send a photographer Saturday morning. We could keep the photos afterwards she said. The Cat's Mother was excited, The Boy was excited, The Cat was excited, even offering to fore go her Saturday morning sleep in to see us pictured. When he didn't appear, I contacted the paper, to discover, eventually, that no they weren't sending a snapper. But not to worry I was still part of the story. I took it in my stride; The Cat's Mother was saddened..."That's not very nice" she said.

Opening the paper on Sunday morning, the article was there in all its glory. But not a word of mention of The Boy's tale. We'd been edited out. Totally. The Cat's Mother was seriously upset, The Cat was quite unhappy, and even I was saddened. Of course, it was probably just the subs whose job it is to make sure that an article fits the space. But it has altered everyone in the house's perception of the press. The Cat's Mother thinks that if they treat everyone like that, it's no wonder they're such horrible people. She's right, the press does act with thinking about the consequences to the people who come into contact with it. This is a minor, minor case, but imagine how it operates on the bigger stage.

I've seen this all before over the last 25 years, but today it is making me wonder about the business I'm in....I don't like letting down the people who matter to me most.

It's a slippery slope

hiybbprqag - no I'm not explaining that.

Last night we watched Louis Theroux in Israel. He is an absolute master at allowing people to dig their own graves. The programme was about Settlers. A masterful piece that should open a few eyes. I would love to see change in that region.

The Cat's Mother loathes exercise, so when she travelled with us to go skiing last year, her friends fell of their collective chairs. It was a significant feather in my cap evidently. She came back complaining that it was a ridiculous thing to be doing, the clothes were ridiculous, and ski boots were ridiculous. I think you get the idea. But secretly, I just knew she enjoyed herself. At least she was still speaking to me at the end of the week.

And I've been proven correct as we'll be off to the slopes in a couple of weeks time. This time we will be accompanied by The Muffins - The Cat's Mother's sister, husband and girls. The smaller Muffins are eight and five, and will share lessons with their mum and The Cat's Mother. The Boy, The Cat, Muffin Dad and I will be doing our own thing. But I have a suspicion we will be missing out on all sorts of jolly japes. Here is video evidence of last year's trauma. I think she did very well.



In preparation, The Cat's Mother has started going to exercise clases. Remarkably, the class is run, I believe, by an ex Pan's People girl (well, woman now). So for all those boys who used to get their weekly thrill by watching the cavorting on Top of The Pops, here we go....did you have a favourite?

Times they are a changing

It's tumultuous times around the globe, and even in the world of Nota Bene very many things are changing. At home it's all for the good, although the challenge of getting where we want to is quite daunting. Of this more soon. At work, it's all for the bad, but then that is the state of the nation isn't it?

The Boy and The Cat have done their mocks, with, in most cases, fabulous results. And where they're not what the could be, they at least know where to focus their attention. The next challenge is to decide which 'A' levels to take, but that decision seems to be more about which degree they want to do, so things have to be done a bit arse about face. At the start of the process it all seemed quite easy, but as the day of reckoning looms, the picture gets ever less clear. The Cat's Mother and I can only offer so much guidance...and I knew I was way out of my depth when I suggested the boy got the Uni's to send him a prospectus...of course all these things are available on their web sites. the one thing that seems certain is that he won't become a marine biologist as predicted by a soothe sayer before he was born. Clearly she didn't realise that you needed two sciences at 'A' level to do that.

It was quite a peculiar start to the month today. I managed to punch a hole in the wing of my beloved Jeep...I thought I was being careful in reversing round the edge of a truck, but all I was doing was quietly gouging the metal. Ouch.



Then I had to run the gauntlet of the paparazzi...I know I'm a legend in my own lunch hour, but in this case it wasn't me they were snapping. I had to go to the municipal tip (yep, I was playing hooky from the office) which is situated by the Spurs practice pitch. It's not very salubrious, but there were TV and press photographers everywhere, so I can only assume in amongst all the Lamborghini's and Ferrari's was Mr Beckham.

I was a good boy scout when I left Waitrose - there was a dear old lady pushing a trolley up the hill looking quite distraught. She'd lost her car and thought it might be at the top of the hill, or round the corner. I jumped out of my car, and in my most patronising way asked what colour it was. "It's red, Japanese, a Nissan and the registration begins S997" I walked up the hill and round the corner, but it wasn't there, so I walked back to the supermarket. There it was right outside, so I helped her with her trolley back down the hill, and loaded the shopping in, I have a feeling she shouldn't have been driving, but that's for the authorities to decide. And she at least didn't have a hole in the nearside wing of her car.

Letting the genie out of the bottle

Well thank heavens it's the end of January. I'm never sure why January was invented...it's interminably dull, grey, cold and inhospitable. And of course we have to deal with The Boy's Mum's anniversary. Seven year's down the road, it remains as poignant as ever.

They say the two topics you should never discuss are politics and religion, but I find them both fascinating...no wonder I studied politics at uni. But that was in the days of the Soviet Union, so a goodly portion of my time was spent Kremlin watching, and after its collapse I wonder if it was time well spent. If it happened now, I'd probably be demanding my money back.

Away away in Arabia, the political landscape is changing and changing fast. I look on in a mix of interest and amusement. At the Iraq Inquiry Blair talked about being in the business of 'Nation Building'. Well you can hardly say that he's being successful in Gazza where the local population are deprived of the basic materials they need to build. And it was him that refused to condemn the Israeli invasion of Lebanon in the hope they would crush Hezbollah. The long-term net result of that is that it looks as though the Lebanese may well gain a pro-Syrian government again, and the West will have lost an important middle east ally. Let's not get into Iraq or Afghanistan...oh...oh we have already. Of course one place where he has been successful nation building is Iran - no longer held in check by Iraq, it is becoming a regional super power with a nuclear capability. No wonder the Israelis are worried.

In Egypt, we can't be sure of the outcome, but my money is on a less Western-inclined leadership which gains legitimacy through the ballot box. If that happens, it is really only a matter of time before other pro-Western states like Saudi Arabia begin to tumble like dominoes. It's interesting that we have tried to impose democracy on countries that are not ready for it, and have failed - Iraq and Afghanistan, yet where a desire for democracy is deeply ingrained, the west is unlikely to benefit from it. I can't help also recalling that in Palestine, Hamas won the last free elections...which the west refused to accept, creating the current impasse.

The Foreign Office must collectively be cacking their pants at the prospect. Decades of diplomacy are unravelling before their eyes, leaving the west at its weakest in this key region, just as oil supplies which are vital to the western economies, are beginning to dwindle. No wonder western governments such as the UK and US are sticking their nose in (where it's not wanted) and suggesting that Mubarak cuts and runs...their suggestions that he introduces reforms are wholly unrealistic and they must know that...they desperately need to gain favour with whoever succeeds him. If the military comes to power, we will have a temporary solution, but not one that will give the people what they are seeking.

The storm clouds are really beginning to gather around Israel, and that will undoubtedly increase their already mega-high levels of paranoia. Who knows how they will react. They didn't react well when peaceful charities tried to take supplies to Gazza, slaughtering nine of them, so I can't imagine it will be well, and in my head I can already see a mushroom cloud. The beneficiaries of all this are likely to be Russia and China. Our hand in this game of poker looks remarkably weak. I blame Bush and Blair..and Obama who failed to act on the brave words at the start of his presidency.

In April whilst The Cat and The Boy are off skiing, we were planning to head to Jordan. We may need to rethink our plans.