Twixt-mas

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

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

Family and friends
Family
Blessed silence
Family
Friends and family

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

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

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

Any questions?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Anyway, enough about myself, how are you doing?

Committed

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Compensation culture

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

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

I'm talking about me literally.

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

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

No nothing like that.

A whacking £1200.

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

I think I might sell it.

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

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

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

It's all bull

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

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

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

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

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

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

Genocide adds a bit of depth and edge*

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

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

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

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

Grounded

Mr and the ex-Mrs Saatchi have been airing their dirty laundry in public.  I can't see either of them coming out of it very well.  Mr saatchi appears to be just a nasty, nasty man, and Nigella is fallen from grace as a national institution - did she really spend ten years of her marriage being 'off her face' every day; it seems unfeasible that Mr Saatchi didn't notice it; it seems unlikely that we wouldn't have noticed something was amiss when she was cooking on telly.  Anyway, it seems a shame, but perhaps the world really is just fully of nasty rich people.

The Spanish seem to have picked an odd time to pick a fight over Gibraltar...surely sorting out their domestic problems with an unemployment rate of 25% should be more of a priority?  Or perhaps they haven't noticed whole towns of empty houses which were built to fill the speculative bubble.  Of course, it's a distraction from domestic woe, and that's what happens when you leave politicians in charge.  I'm all for giving bits of land back to the countries here they logically belong.  In this case, I'd sell Gibraltar back to the Spaniards (and make them give those couple of bits of Africa back to the countries they've been carved out of), I'd give Northern Ireland to Eire, The Falklands is another one I'd sell.  As for Scotland, I can't see that it's really a different nation...but my solution to the whole devolution thing would be to create a federal union with England, Scotland and Wales with their own Parliaments.  I'd also sort out the House of Lords whilst I was about it...Tony Blair made a right royal feck-up and no one has got the balls to sort it out...I wouldn't have an elected body, but a gathering of 'elders'...people who have risen to the top of their profession (and I'd include unions and other bodies which might be fairly said to represent the non-chattering classes).  Anyway, another piece of political nonsense from me.

I went to see Gravity the other night...I was by myself as The Cat's Mother was out with girlfriends and The Boy was being truculent.  I thought it was very good...tense and exciting from start to finish.  probably not as good as the critics would have you believe it still managed to deliver a good evening's entertainment.  I really like George Clooney and Sandra Bullock, but I suspect in the hands of more subtle actors and with a better script, it would have delivered more.  On the plus side it was free.  On the downside it was free because in the critical bit when all hell breaks loose, the projector broke down which somewhat undermined the tension.

A walk in the forest

I love this time of year, especially when I have the chance to have a stroll in Epping Forest which is undoubtedly at its best when the leaves turn to various shades of red, orange, yellow and brown

Off your bike

I rather like this...someone has built an instrument designed by Leonardo DaVinci...I wonder what other wonders are still sitting in the notebooks of this genius just waiting to be brought to life




I generally stop riding my bike when it gets very cold...early December...and start again in late February. Not that it's warmer then, but if I don't get on, my weight swells to such an extent that that if I don't start doing some exercise, the bike won't support my weight.  But this year it's slightly different. Having been sent flying at the end of September, I've ridden just twice - once into the office, once on the 100km night cycle.  In the meantime six people have been killed in London in just a couple of weeks on the very roads I use.  I'm feeling a little unsafe.  Sadly, there's been a lot of mud-slinging and finger pointing...ignorant cyclists, dangerous drivers etc.  I'm sure there are good cyclists and good drivers and bad of both; equally we all make mistakes.  What matters most is that people whether cyclist or drivers are more considerate of others and when mistakes are made there is sufficient margin that it doesn't result in another corpse.  I read somewhere that the medics have a term they use 'Talking Dead'...these are people that are horribly injured (usually with a lorry on top of them) but adrenalin or whatever else has kicked in and they're quite conscious, alert and indeed talking until the moment a little while later when they just stop. Dead.

On a more cheerful note, we headed off to see Turin Brakes on Wednesday evening.  They were the first group that I took The Boy to.  I've seen them so many times that I've lost count.  They are the only group who I've ever managed to get an autograph of...thanks to Auntie Gwen.  They have a new album out.  Do buy it...it's very good, and they've never really had the success they deserve.  Be warned, the video is a bit Quentin Tarrantino

You silly cow

This unusual (to me anyway) looking cow (there were lots in the field, so I assume that despite the horns it wasn't a bull) was munching in a field near us...in fact near Rod Stewart's house (which I hear is for sale).  Back in the good old days, I very nearly bought a car owned by Rod Stewart.  It was a baby-blue Lamborghini, just eighteen months old with 1500 miles on the clock.  It had lost two-thirds of its value in that time.  I'm glad I didn't...I couldn't really afford it, I had no where to park it, and I'd have looked like a silly moo when I did the weekly shopping at Sainsbury's.  Anyway, I like the cow

Do you come here often?

Sometimes life can be a little bit surreal.  I cannot deny that we live a very lucky, privileged existence.  I can't think that I deserve it in anyway, we're just lucky.  So any time I moan about how things are bad, just ignore me...we have only First World Problems.

We were invited to the opening of the new Sam Wannamaker Theatre today (Tuesday).  This is the small Jacobean theatre that sits alongside the very well known and loved Globe Theatre.  It's an authentic reproduction (even down to being lit by candles) of how a theatre would have looked in the good very old days.  It sits three hundred on wooden benches and the stage is disproportionately large.  I realise that the only people who are likely to attend are the better off, and a few curious tourists.  It would be nice if people who don't normally get to experience the theatre could be attracted.  The theatre was opened by HRH Prince Philip, who frankly is much more spritely and lively than anyone should reasonably be in the 90's.  He has a wicked glint in his eye, and it was no wonder he felt able to quip to Zoe Wannamaker, "Do you come here often?"  I'm not now, and never have been a fan of royalty, but I do think 'The Firm' has worked hard in recent years to find a new place in British society.  It may be that the Royal family will be the only pillar of society that commands any level of respect whilst all the others continue to drag themselves into disrepute. Certainly at 90+ I hope I don't have to work for my living....

We were sat next to the Chief Executive of Southwark Council, and I was rather charmed by her retelling the story that Southwark Cathedral's Dean had said to her that The Shard is the Spire that Southwark Cathedral never had.  I shall look at it in a new light from now on.

Just to bring me down to earth, somewhere I managed to lose a pair of headphones.  The type that fit in your ear.  They were a treat not so long ago, and quite (read very) expensive as these things go, so I was quite glum about it. That was until I realised that really it's a First World Problem and one that's easily solved.

Beastly

The Cat's Mother abandoned me and The Boy this weekend for her annual girls spa trip.  Sadly for us, she completely failed to fill the fridge up with ready meals labelled with the day and meal time.  Fortunately, I was able to rekindle some of the expertise that had kept The Boy and I going when, for several years, it was just the two of us.  We headed to Marks and Spencer.  We can both highly recommend the lamb shanks.  Tasty. The Boy also demonstrated his culinary flair by turning the mundane ingredients of bread, cheese, tomatoes and ham hock into something quite extraordinarily delicious.  I hope he doesn't waste that talent.

We managed to find the time to see Don Hemingway at the cinema.  It's a film that's had quite mixed reviews.  Indeed there's a lot of shouting, and the character's behaviour is quite repetitive...and sometimes his language is quite grandiose, and at other times just ridiculous.  But, but, but Jude Law plays the part with aplomb, the film has a cracking turn of pace, and in most places doesn't take itself too seriously...witness the Rolls Royce accident.  I've never got Richard E Grant, and I don't suppose I ever will, but he plays his part well enough.  We enjoyed it.  In a rough, unpolished sort of way I'd say it's one of the better films we've seen this year.  Just not everyone's cup of tea.



So we had some great highlights this weekend, it's but The Boy has come back wishing he's still on the slopes, and he's taking that out on the rest of us.  Ouch.

The Cat's Mother returned after a fabulous time, and declared that the two of us had turned feral...a little unfair given that her evidence was that we had cooked pasta for Sunday evening supper, and I washed the shirts on Sunday as opposed to Wednesday which is the designated day. Ho Hum.

More Snow

I went to dinner with Polly Toynbee and Dan Snow last week.  And very nice they were too.  I wasn't quite their personal dinner guest...I was at the annual dinner (indeed the inaugural annual dinner) for the Electoral Reform Society. I'm not much involved, but the thought of a dinner with people who are passionate about democracy quite appealed.  I'm more of a social media warrior than a get your boots dirty trooper.  Anyway, it was quite interesting, on one side of me was a Conservative Councilor from south London, and opposite was a Labour man who was claiming the record for coming second the most amount of times in successive General Elections.  Dan Snow was very passionate about the need for electoral reform...I am too, although I some of my thoughts don't really accord with the established view.  Yes reform of the House of Commons and Lords, but no I don't think we need to have an elected upper chamber (hands thrown up in horror), yes lets look at the relationship between the constituent parts of the UK...independence for Scotland? Madness, but perhaps a federal system would work better for everyone more hands thrown up), etc, etc.  There was an auction which raised plenty of money: I decided I couldn't afford to spend £600 to have Dan Snow guide The Boy and me round the Imperial War Museum, but someone felt they got value.  Anyway, I walked out at the end with a long-legged blonde Texan.  At one time I would have had scurrilous thoughts on my mind; this time it was just coincidence, and I was left puzzling why a Texan was educated at Essex University, and was on secondment to Plaid Cymru.

Everyone is either loving or being sick to the John Lewis Christmas TV ad.  We think it's quite splendid, capturing the essence of what Christmas should be about. Mushy or not, it suits the season.  In the meantime, I was quite entranced by these Christmas sculptures in the John Lewis Oxford Street store.  You could say they've cleaned up

Many years ago the lady in the downstairs flat gave me a plant.  She was planning to throw it out because it had grown tall, but all the leaves except those on top had dropped off.  I kept it upstairs and it flourished under a skylight, growing to a height of about 18' (it was on the stairwell).  But despite there being a few shoots on the stalk/trunk it only ever had the umbrella of leaves at the top.  When I decided to redo the flat, I took the decision to become a lumberjack.  Down it came.  But at the last moment I decided to see if I could save it.  I hacked the top off, dipped it in rooting hormone and left it in a pot of water.  For about 18 months. Roots did grow behind what looked like a slimy sludge.  But not to be disheartened, I potted it, and then put it on the landing in Loughton.  It loved it.  Leaves grew everywhere.  Beautiful.  We all thought it was lovely.  But The Cat's Mother, who has the least green fingers of anyone I know insisted that it was too big and had to move.  Reluctantly The Boy and I moved it.  Disaster.  Absolute disaster.  I still blame the cleaner who for some reason insists on trying to look after the plants.  One day in the summer she so overwatered it that we had to leave the french windows open for a week to try and dry out the carpet.  The leaves started dropping off.  We were left with a plant that looked as though it had been through a Philippine hurricane.  Worse still it turned black at the top..  But I refused to throw it out.  Just a couple of days ago, suddenly there is new growth...at the top.  The Cat's Mother still wants it to go.  I won't let it.  But I am wondering whether come the spring I should chop it down and put the crown in rooting hormone...or can you play that trick just once?