Silver linings

Last night on my cycle home, I bumped into a couple of policemen. I stopped to tell them that I'd seem a pile of credit cards...several hundred of them spilling out of a plastic bag beside the canal. Although we were just by the Olympic Stadium, they weren't familiar with the area. It turns out that they were from SOUTH Yorkshire (I was corrected when I just said Yorkshire) and were in London as part of a very large posse, including 160 police vans, brought to the capital to control any rioting following Mark Duggans funeral today. Very nice and friendly they were too. Clearly the forces of law and order are taking no chances.

In a period of reflection I realised how hypercritical it was that during the riots which briefly broke out in the brief heat of the summer that the government called for a ban on social media to prevent gangs of thugs from organising themselves to fight the forces of law and order. These are the same politicians that have praised the role of the self-same social media to promote dissent in Iran and encourage the Arab Spring. Now we all know that one man's terrorist is another man's freedom fighter, and that the video evidence suggests that our own unrest was a call for all hours footwear shopping, but are we really that well placed to decide between goodies and baddies in foreign countries. I somehow doubt it. I must admit that I've never been a great fan of democracy, as our own version spent centuries in a state of absolute corruption and then just as it evolved, the world has become so complex that it seems the real issues are beyond the understanding of most voters, who therefore fall back on uninformed prejudices. For many countries and cultures, democracy is so alien that attempts to impose it are bound to fail.

School has resumed, and it has come as a shock to realise that the sweet darlings we escorted to school just five minutes ago are now verging on the edge of adulthood. No longer for them school uniform, instead business suits which make them look smart, sassy and grown up. I may just decide to feel old and retire. The Cat will be able to follow her theatrical passion with a drama AS alongside her more traditional academic subjects. The Boy is starting with the First XV team on Saturday, which is a real achievement for him....and an interesting coincidence as the Rugby World Cup has just kicked off. A real, real shame I don't think I'll get to see him play as I have to get a new set of tyres on the motorbike at the same time...as I have a nail in one, I guess the urgency is reasonable?

It may have been a pretty miserable summer weather wise, but I don't know if you've been lucky enough to see the amazing sunsets this year. I can't remember when I've seen glorious sunsets so often..practically every night I would say. Dramatic clouds and amazing red and orange light. Truly spectacular, and more than enough to lift everyone's spirits. The odd thing though is that they've really given a lie to the old saying 'Red sky at night, shepherd's delight' - but we can't have everything.

Le monsieur croque

With the teen urchins off to the Black Mountains for a four day hike as part of their DofE Silver, The Cat's mother and I took the opportunity to grab a few days away. We both really needed it being more than a little bit frazzled over the summer - frustrated that commitments had prevented us from getting a proper break giving us the rest and relaxation we needed.

As we only had a few days it didn't seem sensible to be flying off into the sunset, so instead we took the train to Paris, managing to secure a room in the George V hotel. So what to say about Paris in the balmy, sunny late summer days? I've been there dozens of times, for both work and pleasure, and love going there...the Cat's Mother has been there less, but was very excited about a few days in Paris.

An interesting coincidence for us was that we were there at the same time as Cameron's cohorts and Sarkozy's servants were in conference with the Libyans, planning for a non-Gadaffi future. It did feel a bit like the colonial conferences of the past with the imperialists just carving up their share of the booty. The nearest we came to it was that our hotel filled with men who may well have traveled from Saudi Arabia or there abouts.

The Cat's Mother was adamant she didn't want to ascend the Eiffel Tower (in case it fell over or blew down!), so we stayed nearer the ground. Under it in fact, as we descended to the catacombs where some six million Parisians are piled up. That's quite a few isn't it? Anyway, the kingdom of the dead is the strangest of places to enter, and hear about its creation due to (literally) overflowing cemeteries which would mean decaying bodies appearing in people's cellars, and an atmosphere bad enough to curdle milk in an hour. Cheerful place eh?! But the bones are beautifully laid out. Obviously death was on our mind as we discovered that we were staying just a short chase by the papparazzi from where Diana Spencer died.

We did art...a lot of it really - suffice to say the French don't really do modern art, but the Musee D'Orsay is just absolutely spectacular and just the perfect size. The Louvre was great too....but really just too big for its own good. And anyway, who wants to stand in a gigantic crowd to see some dappy woman smiling from the canvas? But we loved it anyway.

Our culinary experience included a restaurant that was so hip it hurt, and patrons who clearly loved themselves. Fortunately the waitresses wore the shortest skirts imaginable, and the food wasn't half bad. Even if one dish came complete with rubber band that they didn't know from it had emanated. We went in one brasserie, sat down ready to order when the waitress came over and demanded to know how we wanted our meal cooked. It took a moment to realise all they served was steak frites. And delicious it was too...no wonder that evening we saw a queue for it snaking down the road. I'm not going to mention staggering down the Champs Elyssee after a couple of very fine Martinis...that would be just too embarrassing.

And that was it really. All very, very nice. Apart from when we ascended from the catacombs, I acquired a stiff back pain which lingered for most of the day until it suddenly turned nasty in the Louvre gift shop and spread to my chest as well...I got very hot and sweaty and began to pass out. Thoughts of my brother's heart attacks added to the panic, but eventually it passed, I recovered, and after a good massage that evening I was as fit as a fiddle.


A good wave off

Should this boat have stopped here?

That's me!

We may have had a wine or two

Smiling woman, and another with a picture of her child

The only queue in Paris, and the man in front had the same sandals as me

Alas poor Jeanne Pierre

Of course we went shopping

That car really would go in the river...designed and built in Britain

Notre Dame

Flowers in our hotel...more than in all of the Netherlands

Going underground

Japing Ape

We have been away. It has nothing do with the fact that the Japing Ape appears to have moved in next door I'm sure he'll make a fine neighbour.

Stars in their eyes

I can't let the day go by without recording the verdict of the GCSE Examination board. A*s across the board, bar a couple of A grades. So unqualified success for the pair of them. They're being treated to a celebration supper tonight, and no doubt the champagne will flow, to add to the one vodka they were allowed this morning.

They're very bright sparks, so The Cat's Mother and I are grinning like a pair of Cheshire Cats, as proud as Punch.

Picture this

This week's gallery is on the theme of world photography day. So over the weekend I took a picture of this house. Its not a brilliant picture but it's very important to me and somewhere that I will always remember. For me that's what photography is all about - creating and preserving the memores that would otherwise fade or blur. I wonder if Grandma in Cyprus recognises it?

Half

Evidently, the near end of the Libyan conflict has brought a degree of stability to the markets. Which is odd as Libya supplies at most 2% of the world's oil...which is really just a drop in the ocean. And it's even odder that until this week we have been told that it is the instability in the Eurozone which is at the heart of all our problems, excepting the plodding nature of the American recovery as well. Really, its all a load of old bollocks that the press and the markets talk isn't it?

The countdown is well underway, with just two days until the GCSE results are announced. Here's my dilemma, when I was a lad, they just used to pop through the door with the rest of the post, and when you opened them your mum and dad patted you on the head and said "Well done". These days, the tikes have to make their way to the school to receive their results in person and then celebrate or commiserate with their class mates as appropriate. The parents sit and wait with baited breath. I'm supposed to be in a meeting at THE TIME. Should I cancel the meeting, or should I stay as I am? I'm torn.

The Cat's Mother is a bright, sunny positive person, whereas I'm not. I thought the differences between us were well summed up by my journey home yesterday. I was cycling the 18 miles home, and yesterday was no different to any other in that I regularly get passed by other people. Not club-race fit men in their twenties, but usually fat old ladies pootling along on their bone shakers. Once upon a time it depressed me, but now I just take it in my stride. I know my place and it's not at the Olympic velodrome.

As I passed through Woodford and into Buckhurst Hill, I pulled up at a junction and another cyclist went flying by me. This muscular male on two wheels disappeared into the distance whilst I continued to pootle along the high road and down the hill which takes me into Loughton along the high street before beginning a long, steep climb home. It was at this point I realised that I had just caught up with and then actually overtook the cyclist. I was a little surprised, but I was going quite a bit faster than him. Then I forgot him again until nearing the brow of the hill, behind me I could hear a lot of clanking of changing gears and huffing and puffing, until just near the brow, he went past again.

At home I relayed the tale, and added how ridiculous it was as this guy just hadn't wanted someone going more quickly than him; to me it wasn't a race.

The Cat's Mother, however, pointed out how marvelous it was that I had inspired him.

Now would you mind filling up my glass, it appears half empty

Summer's done

Over here, it's nearly the end of the summer, and over there it's nearly the end of the Arab Spring. Libya is close to being the former country of Colonel Gadaffi, or the country of the former Colonel Gadaffi. Syria might be condemned by "World Leaders" (actually the leaders of Western Democracies) but doesn't show any real signs of change. It seems likely that the additional level of instability which has been added by the events of the last few months may yet come to bit us all...the battling between Israel and Hamas over the recent days has been facilitated at least in part by the lack of iron grip by the Egyptian Authorities.

The Boy has finished his work experience, and has come away with a hoard of new fans. Like us all at his age he stated that he doesn't want to do a 9-5 job...I'm still saying that so I hope he finds a solution to the dilemma of whether to pay the bills or relax and enjoy. He spent Saturday at V Festival, getting drenched to the skin. It made me remember rather wistfully when he and I went off to camp at V Festival three or four years ago, and what a great time we had together. How times have changed...that's the process of growing up I guess.

The Cat is disappointed as her summer is nearly over, but as it's been so action packed I don't think she has too much to complain of. Of course, I remember those long summers that used to go on for ever, and the disappointment that comes with them drawing to a close as September nears. Oh that I could have a long, long summer break now.

The Cat and The Cat's Mother have returned from their French jaunt in Carcasonne. It seemed peaceful and restful, but not full of the ghosts and ghouls of Kate Mosse's books which are set in that region. How disappointing!

The two teens have a week of peace and quiet before they embark on their Silver D of E venture, and it may, finally, give The Cat's Mother and I some well deserved time away together...we deserve and need it.

This weekend, she and I took time out on Sunday afternoon to go for a little trip on a boat on the River Lea...a simple pleasure much enjoyed.

It's what you know

There are some things The Cat's Mother knows and there are some things that I know.

She knows that, in her absence, the house has gone to rack and ruin, the kitchen is a disaster area, the dishes are still dirty, have become mouldy and are walking around the house by themselves, the rubbish lies scattered around the garden, and there are mountains of unwashed clothes beckoning for her domestic hand.

I know that, in her absence, the house has been quiet, the kitchen is as tidy now as when she left, the dishes are neatly stacked in the dishwasher, the rubbish has been taken out and collected by the bin men, and we've washed the clothes we've worn.

I wonder who's right? We'll find out tomorrow.

Two events have dominated my newspaper reading over the last 48 hours, and caused me to reflect on destiny.

Yesterday the Autonomy Corporation was bought by US technology giant Hewlett Packard for a whopping 10.3 billion dollars. That's a lot of dosh. You may not know Autonomy...and why should you? I only know it because the founder, Mike Lynch attended the same school as me, and as The Boy does now. He's four years younger than me and was always a bright spark, getting there on a scholarship (as indeed did I). Not much more to say other than well done...always good to read about someone you know (of) doing well...and as I understand it, he deserved. I'm not sure what he learnt at school that I didn't, but whatever it was, it's served him well.

The other story is the death and repatriation of Lt Dan Clack in Afghanistan. He was just 24, and a very well liked and respected officer. A man of great potential. He's the first Old Bancroftian to have been killed in action since the second world war, and had been at the school between 1998 and 2005. Lieutenant Clack was killed while leading a ten-man patrol into the village of Dactran to speak to the local nationals and discuss a shura due to take place the next day. Approximately 150 metres from the front gate his patrol was struck by an improvised explosive device, killing him and injuring five other members of his patrol. What a terrible tragedy for him, his family and those close to him. I remember when I was at school one of the things I learnt was that Afghanistan was an unconquerable country that was little more than a waste land. It has a tribal system which suits the place; democracy is not a natural fit. So the other part of the tragedy is that he was fighting an unwinnable war trying to impose an alien political system which has been imposed by western political leaders. If only they'd been in the same history lesson as me.

It's all in black and white

When I was younger I thought in black and white. Things were right or wrong, good or bad, left or right. But age and experience has proved otherwise...there was never one moment when The Boy crawled and then walked, when he gurgled and then talked, it would even be difficult to pinpoint the exact moment when his mother moved from life to death.

In our day to day lives, things are rarely just one thing or another. Take the police response to the riots. Evidently their response was too soft. This not long after they were criticised for being too hard at the G20 riots. During the height of the riots there were public calls for the rioters to be hung drawn and quartered, but now the sentences are being handed down, they're being criticised as too harsh. It's not a very black and white issue is it?

Over in north Africa, it seems to have finally registered that the motley band of rebels fighting Gadaffi may not be all that we want them to be. So after millions of £s has been spent supporting a liquorice allsort army the diplomats are now talking about a 'catastrophic victory' which might lead to civil war, or a takeover by islamic extremists. Well I hate to say it (I don't really) but that was bloody obvious months ago. The choice has always been choosing between the lesser of two evils. It's never been a black and white issue.

Now talking of black and white, that's the theme of this week's gallery, so here's a picture I took of St Paul's Cathedral...The Boy and I used to go past it every night when we walked home from my office over The Wobbly Bridge and I loved it. I took it with my mobile phone



This picture though isn't black and white...it's a view of the cranes on the St Petersburg sky line when we were there last year. It's just an illusion as it was taken in full colour on my big Olympus camera.



As I said, things are rarely black and white.

Just ignore Mrs Worthington

The problem with using the name Nota Bene is that when I open up my Hotamil account, the 'system' thinks I'm Italian and offers to translate the whole page for me. It was funny for the first five hundred times, but now the jokes beginning to wear a bit thin. Mama Mia! On the other hand, its probably better than the e-mails that I get from PRs addressing me as Dear Brad presumably because the email address is bradstockboys. If ever I want to change my name to Brad Stockboys, I'll let them know. Or maybe they've seen a passing resemblance to the other famous Brad....its an easy mistake to make.

The Cat's Mother and The Cat are away sunning themselves in France this week, so the mice are out to play. Well, when I say out to play I mean we're eating deep fried frozen pizzas all week, leaving the wrappers all over the sitting room floor whilst slobbing around watching DVDs full of sex and violence. Well, when I say 'we', I mean 'me'. No doubt The Boy will shame me with his goody-two-shoes behaviour. Youth isn't what it used to be.

The Cat's Mother has taken it on herself to make me relive the misery of my (and UP's) 'O' level years by taking us to all the plays we studied for English all those years ago. Shakespeare's Winters Tale is already crossed off the list, as is MacBeth. We've seen an operatic version of Turn of the Screw previously. The Playboy of the Western world is a future 'must see'. This weekend we saw Marlowe's Dr Faustus at The Globe theatre on the South Bank. It was absolutely fantastic...oh that it had been on when I was studying, I may yet improve on my Grade A. If you've never been, and get the chance do go, but make sure you bring a cushion. The afternoon was capped by The Cat bumping into and getting the autograph of Dr Who's assistant. Haven't got a clue about her name, but she's very pleasant, happy to sign away and have her picture taken with hoards of adoring fans...lovely.



This weekend was the finale of The Cat's two weeks course at the National Youth Theatre. She did amazingly well to get a place...the competition was remarkably stiff, but she shone at the auditions. The last two weeks have been a roller coaster of emotions for her, as they built up to this and on Saturday they gave their performance at the National. It was a fabulous thing to see her participate and hopefully this is just the start of a path which will see her dreams come true. If you can spot her in the video, you're doing well...better than I did for half the performance!



Wow, I've reached the end and not a political comment. But I do like Warren Buffet's recent comments which I'm sure apply over here as well as over there.

Statesmanlike?

On a very positive note indeed, the results are in, and I don't have to worry about diabetes...my tests were perfectly normal. May be it really is because the shock that I might be a sufferer made me stop my marshmallow binge. But whatever, it's quite a relief. I have modified my diet, am doing more exercise and hopefully that will relieve me of the higher levels of cholesterol too.

Did you know, or even care, that the battle for the pound in your pocket is being fought by tech giants not through clever marketing, or even fabulous products, but through the law courts? If you could be bothered to spend more than five minutes looking at places like Engadget, Gizmodo or TechRadar (as I do), you'd know that just about all the tech giants such as Apple, Nokia, Samsung and a good deal of other you would never have heard of are busy suing each other for patent infringement. The latest round has seen Apple use he courts to effectively ban a new product from Samsung that would by all accounts knock spots off the iPad. I've no idea about the ins and outs, but I certainly think it's a very sad day when the lawyers start creaming it in when we should all be able to choose what we buy and what we don't. It doesn't bode well for the future. If you're interested, there's more here.

It's hardly a surprise outcome of Carol Vorderman's study into maths education that she recommends that all pupils should study it until the age of 18. Evidently, too many are unable to work out how much change they get from a £50 note after buying a spliff and two hits of crack cocaine. Or how much they should be getting for flogging new trainers down the pub on a Saturday night. News paper reports barely mention the problem is that kids are not able to do even basic maths at the age of sixteen, although they're already being taught trigonometry. Simply requiring schools to teach maths until kids are eighteen sadly misses the point completely. They just need to be taught until they grasp the essentials of maths which get them through life in a modern world. I'd certainly hate to see The Kat and The Boy burdened with an extra two years of maths which they both loathe with a passion, when they have the maths skills they need already.

Equally unsurprisingly, there has been a complete lack of leadership in the UK over the last week or two. I've already mentioned that the government's comment that the downgrading of the US credit rating vindicates our own economic policy. Now David Cameron has come out with the comment that over the last few days, the police "Got riots wrong". I'm not sure of the full context, but that doesn't matter. As a former PR man, he should know and understand the sound-bites the media are looking for....and got in this case. In the face of a very fluid situation, completely outnumbered the police did a remarkable job. But Cameron's comment today follows on from his earlier statements which could have been made by any Daily Mail reader after their morning tea. What we need and want is a Prime Minister who will stand up and set out a vision for the future not make knee-jerk reactionary comments which just fuel the problem. At this time we don't need another middle-management politician, but some one who can make the leap and make the changes the country needs for the better.

If you've got this far, you're doing well.

This week, The Boy has been doing work experience, at one of my clients. That's enough to make anyone nervous, but it seems to be going well. Today he's sitting in a workshop with a rail company, looking at human factors and ergonomics....don't ask! So if your train is late or uncomfortable you know who to blame. Meanwhile,The Cat is pursuing her interests having been selected against fierce competition for a two week course with The National Youth Theatre. If you happen to be passing the National on Saturday at about four-ish, do pop along and give her a bit of encouragement...she deserves it.

In the meantime, here is my list of riot-inspired songs....music is always good at a time of upheaval I find! I had another list but lost it, so have cobbled this together at short notice, so chip in if you have any additions:

Muse - Uprising
The Who - My Generation
Manic Street Preachers - If you tolerate this

10cc- Rubber Bullets

Rage Against The MAchine - Killing in the name

Sex Pistols - Anarchy in the UK

Elton John - Saturday Night's Alright for Fighting

The Prodigy - Firestarter

The Clash - London's Burning

The Smiths - Panic


And finally (of course)

Kaiser Chiefs - I predict a riot

Water

I've not been very good at participating in Tara's gallery recently, but I thought I would this week. I'm a day late, as we were at a funeral yesterday.

This is a series of pictures I call The Swimmer - of course it's The Boy, swimming in Grandma in Cyprus' pool late one evening the first time we had both been there together. There's a slightly eerie, atmospheric feel to the pictures. The pool was the best way to cool off, and a really great thing to have in such sunny climes and Grandma in Cyprus swims regularly to keep fit. The dragonflies like to sunbathe beside it, and the pool has been known to overflow when it rains too much. Cyprus has been going through a drought, but the desalination plants make all the difference now.

The end of the world as we know it

Wow what an evening that was. Absolutely incredible. Terrible. Never seen anything like it....well not since the Brixton riots of the Thatcher years. I guess it couldn't have come at a worse time, but then equally I guess, the rising temperature of the summer hasn't helped.

I'd been saying to The Cat's Mother that things were getting overheated, and if we weren't careful we'd get burned.

And sure enough that was the case. Things went into melt down last night didn't they?

We were lucky, I guess, that we caught it early on, but there'll be some clearing up to do, that's for sure. We worked late into the night trying to sort things out. I didn't realise it would be so difficult, nor did The Cat's Mother.

You'd have thought that where we lived, we'd have been immune from problems. But I guess even the middle classes can't cosset themselves away from the troubles of a modern world.

We didn't realise there was a problem until we opened the door, but then it was obvious. Mess everywhere. I slammed the door as quick as I could, hoping that would help chill things off. But really when these things happen, you know there's nothing to be done.

Except buy a new freezer.

Yes, typically our freezer died yesterday, leaving the thing full of defrosted ice cream, pizzas, meats and heaven only knows what else. Not that finding a new one was as easy as we were expecting - we have an American-style one, and I guess like all things American they have got bigger in the last eight years. And have you tried to get a white one? We did manage it eventually, after a couple of hours of trawling the internet. Of the 54 American-style fridge-freezers offered by Appliances Online, only one fitted the bill, or would fit through the door. It'll be delivered on Thursday.

Meanwhile, I can report that the very thick clouds of smoke which deposited ash all over our cars this morning, were simply the result of a barn fire. Epping Forest is not really that prone to inner-city rioting, although in Buckhurst Hill a designer dress shop was broken into. Setting fire to the place would have been unfeasible...it may have melted their spray on tans.

I'm still trying to quite understand the man I overheard on his mobile as I cycled home along the canal, skirting round the Hackney and Bethnal Green trouble spots. "Yeah, they're laying a gun on him" I heard. I don't want to think about it....we've enough problems as it is.

A fat poof in a dress for Sunday lunch*

We can probably all be grateful this morning that it's a pretty lousy summer this year. Cold, damp weather is the best weapon the police have for managing riots, and we've had both in abundance. If you've ever been up to Tottenham, you'll know it's not somewhere you'd want a Sunday picnic. There's an undercurrent of crime just waiting to bubble up to the surface, and this weekend it came. I'm not going to point the finger of blame, nor am I really well placed to analyse the causes, but it's probably fair to say that where there's poverty and inequality there's crime. It's hardly surprising to see the list of other areas that saw copycat rioting and looting.

Some would say, that we are suffering from a lack of leadership...with inner-city districts being being engulfed in flames and shops emptied in the ensuing chaos, and with the world's global markets in melt down. I don't begrudge politicians their holidays, but really sometimes what is needed is for one of our elected leaders to stand up and be counted, rather than continue sipping their cappuccinos in Tuscany. If the markets continue in the direction they're heading we're all in hot water. It was hardly the most statesman like comment to be made that the downgrading of the US credit rating was 'vindication of the UK's approach'.

It was a very happpy moment when The Boy returned from his travels and gave us all a big hug. Despite listening to him for most of Saturday, and seeing his 365 photos (he caught the habit from me I think), I suspect we're still waiting to get the juiciest stories. Over half the touring group went down with tummy bugs of one sort or another, there was heat, there was humidity, there were injuries (but not to The Boy), but there was most of all camaraderie, and the opportunity to do some coaching with Tamils in Sri Lanka...it was this that I think was the highlight for The Boy. He seemed genuinely moved and proud that they could give something back to one of their host countries. He did very well himself, captaining the seconds team twice and playing for the firsts for the first time...and winning an award for 'most improved player'. He won a second award too - for most peculiar purchase: a fake Louis Vuitton suitcase for The Cat's Mother. None of us were short of gifts, including more fake LV goodies, Oakley sunglasses, Hard Rock T-shirts, Armani tie and cufflinks...and so on!

Not surprisingly, he was exhausted after his very long travels, so it was an early night for him on Saturday.

Sunday saw The Cats Mother and I out at a friends 60th birthday celebration lunch. As you would expect, the hall was decked out in fuscia pink feather boas. Amongst the people there was a lad who had appeared on The Apprentice...he seemed a really nice lad, and someone else who had been a guest at Amy Winehouse's funeral, but I'm not sure that counts as mixing with celebrities. The surprise entertainment was indeed 'A fat poof in a dress' (*that was his/her description of himself rather than any comment made by me). Our drag queen provided the perfect entertainment by crooning some great show tunes. It may not be our usual Sunday lunchtime, but was absolutely great entertainment. And some real light relief whilst we're in choppy waters.