As we proceed with the Brexit circus, I feel increasingly compelled to write. I have felt stigmatised into silence, unwilling to reveal my views. I feel I am not entitled to express my views as they are apparently so offensive to those who choose to differ. I feel the intimidation and intolerance of those who patronise me with their judgmental generalisations. It may be that those supporting remain do not think they are having this effect or that they wish to, but then again, maybe they do.
Intolerance and intimidation are, of course, the very antithesis of the values that Remainers are espousing. That is a reflection of society as it is, and perhaps historians of the future will reflect on this period with interest.
We are approaching the vote on Tuesday the 11th of December of Mrs May's Brexit deal. As you would expect the respective parties are in overdrive to put their position across. The deal being presented is, apparently, much worse than remaining and supposedly better than no deal, depending upon who you speak to. Refreshingly enough both remain and leave supporting MPs are united in their opposition, this is democracy in action.
I have not read the agreement, but I feel that it is not necessary for two reasons: firstly the MPs are responsible for understanding and challenging this. Secondly, the deal is widely expected to fall and therefore there is no benefit in examining it. It is an expensive waste of time, unfortunately. The only opinion I have on the deal is that it is my view that it has been deliberately engineered to be as unpalatable as possible, perhaps this is too cynical a view to support, but it would not surprise me.
I want to spend some time on the mini-campaign by both sides during this period. Once again, as before the referendum, we are getting full on negative impact assessments from business leaders, the Bank of England, Treasury and other bodies favouring remain, or in this case, the unsatisfactory deal on the table. The first point I would like to make is that the doom laden scenarios lack credibility, this is not because I am an economics, supply chain or legal expert that can present a well informed view. It is because the evidence of growth and resilience of the country, post the referendum, has demonstrated the lack credibility. Remainers will state that we did not experience the significant downturn because of actions taken by various players in mitigating the effects. This point then demonstrates the second flaw in the argument, which is that we will not simply sit back and do nothing, which is what the forecasts and scenarios seem to imply.
In terms of the leave side, they are of the view that somehow they can reject the deal and then go back to the EU to re-negotiate an alternative deal. The EU has unequivocally stated that there is nothing else on the table, it is this deal, no deal or no Brexit. So my opinion on this is that it is also a fruitless exercise, unless you believe that the EU will somehow buckle under the threat of no deal. I don't think they will. The only alternative is no deal. This is not what I would like, but then I have no choice when presented with the alternatives.
So where does that leave us? Well, considering that Parliament is Remain leaning, it is conceivable that the MPs will simply ignore the vote and remain in the EU. Indeed, it would seem that this is both possible and desirable from the EU. One of the possibilities is that the deal is rejected and either before or after Mrs May then resigns or is ousted, a so called peoples vote is held.
A peoples vote or referendum Mk II, would be in keeping with the EU approach in overturning the democratic decisions of voters by simply asking again. The point made by remain supporting MPs and commentators is that people are entitled to change their mind now that they know the true impact of Brexit. I cannot disagree with this, people are entitled to change their minds if they feel better informed. The first issue I would take with this is that the voters were clearly promised, indeed threatened, that the original referendum was a one-off. But then broken promises are not uncommon with politicians. Another issue is that the impact of Brexit, as represented, lacks credibility and impartiality. The deal is not a Brexit by any, even a broad, definition. The last thing on this subject is what happens if the decision is again to leave? If, and one presumes that this is the case, the result is to remain, then what happens when UKIP MK 2 or whatever incarnation comes to replace them starts to gain traction again with the voters?
My view on the outcome is that, as a voter, I do not feel I have any choice. Both of the main parties are split and the smaller parties are a waste of a vote. Tony Blair made the observation, among others, that no one is holding the centre ground. Voters feel disenfranchised. So the rise of an alternative party would seem likely. It is interesting to note that more right-wing leaning parties are on the rise in mainland of Europe, please listen and address the concerns of voters or the slide will most likely continue.
I want to talk about the economics of the situation as I see it. I currently do most of my shopping at Waitrose, it is expensive but convenient. Occasionally I go to ASDA and Tesco if I am passing. Why is this relevant? Imagine if there were laws which said I must use Waitrose and I am only allowed to go to ADSA and Tesco for particular goods but that I have to restrict how much of them I can buy. If Waitrose was in charge of what I was allowed to buy and from whom then clearly they would wish to limit the ability of ASDA and Tesco to threaten their position. So they key factor here is controlling the market to your advantage and by expanding your catchment area you can capture more of this market. Even better, because your expansion is covering less mature economies, you benefit by controlling their economies and making full use of their inexpensive labour. This is basically competitive advantage. As it is now if I want to leave the Waitrose dominated arrangement and choose to shop in Aldi, Tesco, ASDA and Sainsburys whenever I wanted to then I would not expect to have to get the agreement of Waitrose.
So how does this translate? The EU is paid a large amount of money as membership, more than we take out in benefits directly. Our trade balance with the EU is in deficit, ie they sell significantly more to us than we do to them, perhaps some of this is due to restrictive practices, but it doesn't really matter. The main point is we represent a valuable market and a source of direct income. If we choose to leave then we are choosing not to pay the membership fee and to check out the competition to see if we can get a better deal, in a nutshell. No one likes losing control and influence and therefore it is no surprise that the EU is unhappy with this.
The EU started out as a restrictive cartel to control coal and steel production, ostensibly so no single nation could start an arms race without the others being aware. One of the pressing arguments made by remainers is that the EU has been a force for good in introducing changes and tacking the issues of the day. I would not disagree with this, but the implication that the UK would regress is judgmental and not based on any firm grounding. They are trying to foresee the future as though they will not be part of the decision making process that guides the values and beliefs of our society. If we choose to, we can do everything the EU does, but the key point is that we can choose to. We can choose not to if we don't agree with the changes.
So that was a very long way of me saying I have felt stigmatised for having what I think are quite reasonable views. I am becoming less concerned with my friends and family knowing my voting preference because my expectations of being listened to or understood continue to diminish. I have surprised at least two people with my views this last week and that is understandable given my connections with Belgium and my interest in being able to continue unfettered access to my home and family. It is also worthy of note that Belgium has been the unfortunate battlefield site across many wars fought by various nations throughout history. Of more concern, the very institutions of the EU are in Brussels and therefore are the most likely target in the future and even now for civil unrest. I genuinely worry about the safety of my family in the future.
There is not an easy end to the current situation because it is driven by power and politics rather than reason and economic judgement. As a remainer or leaver you can interpret that to fit your narrative and continue to disagree or you can try and understand by reasoning, without threats, why the other side thinks the way they do.
Sunday, 9 December 2018
Sunday, 14 October 2018
Brexit - Finally Moved to Write
Why?
I think this will disappoint a lot of people who know me and most likely they will question my judgement. I will get the main question over with, I voted to leave. Good, now that is said I can finally feel relief that I should not feel burdened with the secret of what should be nobody's business but my own.
Why have I felt the need to be evasive or coy about my views, although, with my commentary on Facebook, it probably became very apparent what my standpoint was on the subject? I'll tell you why. It is the very divisive and disruptive nature of the whole debate, coupled with my strong connections to Belgium. There are all sorts of labels being applied to anyone who discusses the topic that they lose sight of what the real issues are and what they mean to those who cast their vote.
As a generalisation, and this is supported by the analysis of the voting demographics, my friends are split down very similar lines. Better educated and well off are EU fans, those not so well off and supposedly not so well educated are not hot with the EU. In the run up and post referendum, I have discussed the topic with my Belgian friends and An, who has remained remarkably impartial on the subject.
So why did I vote the way I did?
It is probably easier to say and more productive to say what my decision was not based upon. First and foremost my decision is not based on economics, if anyone was attempting to persuade me of the merits of remaining or leaving, economics was not something I was concerned about. Unquestionably there are economic opportunities and threats with leaving or maybe more correctly stated, consequences, but that was not a vote winner with me. The much criticised claim of the NHS benefiting by an additional £350m per week, did not play any role. I, like many reasonable people, saw that for what it was. The same could be said for the dire immediate economic impacts of voting to leave. The media and politicians have long spelt out doom and gloom which fails to materialise in quite the way they claimed.
Secondly, I did not vote because of immigration or some xenophobic fear of people coming over to take my job. I am concerned that we have a large city's worth of people entering the country every year without having the requisite infrastructure to support them. I do also feel that we should have better controls to allow in only the skills that we need in the country. I work in an industry sector which takes the best people in the world, wherever they happen to come from and employs them if they have the right skills and ambition. We also need immigration, let me say that again, we need immigration. The reason is that we are an aging population and we need to have a youthful workforce to keep powering our economy. I do feel that this message was not clearly aired, but perhaps the leavers would have felt they were alienating some of their potential voters. So immigration and the unfortunate labels that go with that debate were not relevant to my decision.
Thirdly and perhaps a little bit on the absurd side, I have no delusions or desire to go back to the days of Empire, even if that were at all possible. In my opinion the US Empire is on the wane, the Chinese are on the rise and the British Empire's heart stopped beating around the end of 1930s. No, I am not some cricket playing, fox hunting, feudal lord seeking slaves to work my land and any other ridiculous and imaginative connotations that you would like to dream up.
What shaped my views?
I grew up in the 1970s and 1980s. Essentially in slum conditions in the labour heartland that is Gateshead. Labour did little for me and Thatcher, the epitome of evil that her policies represented, was oppressive. During the miners strike I was in favour of the police, because I did not understand the politics at that age but thought that violence was clearly not the solution. When John Smith came along, I found that there was someone I could believe in, unfortunately he died before being able to get to the office of Prime Minister. Such a shame. Much though I detested Thatcher, she did possess strength of character and leadership, but lets not get too dreamy about that.
When Tony Blair came along and we had what I would describe of as the golden years of labour, I was a convert. People now say that he is a war criminal for the invasion of Iraq, but they were not saying such things when he took us into Bosnia and Sierra Leone. People have short memories and are far too judgmental.
Before Tony Blair came along I had the blessing of attending higher education, something I think I would have been put off from in this day and age due to the debt being incurred at such a young age. Among other things, I studied European Studies and at this point in time it was all about the Maastricht treaty. A few key headers from those days: in theory the European Union was a great idea, in practice it corrupted behavior. The UK was painted as that bad player, despite domestically introducing and adhering to most EU Directives and initiatives. Other nations appeared to play a rather more loose game. Assurances were given about no desire to have a federal superstate, although clearly that is very much the end state desired. It seemed that we were (in the form of free market economics) destroying our coal, steel and shipbuilding industries, whilst other European nations were subsidising them. This was the first thing to shape my views on the EU Project. But we are talking early 90s here.
The other main driver that has shaped my views has been the violent break up of the former Yugoslavia and USSR. Now the circumstances are somewhat different in both of those cases but they bring relevant and interesting points to the discussion. In the case of the former it was a bloody civil war involving all of the horrors of genocide and destruction on the civilian population. I feel that this is a risk that could apply to an EU superstate, fragmenting along former cultural and national lines.
In the case of the USSR, the EU is ever eager to welcome more countries and I take the view that the reason is twofold: firstly they can get another piece of developing market that they can sell their own goods to and secondly limiting access to competitors and why not. Turkey has a population (market of 77m) If they are ever brought into the fold completely then access to that market can be restricted by barriers to trade etc. So in the case of the USSR the former Eastern Bloc countries have no great desire to be governed by some central, undemocratic and oppressive regime. We have to remember the fun times they had behind the iron curtain. If you are 28 or under there is a good chance you will not know a lot about the USSR and being oppressed, a generalisation but something you should check out.
Why I Voted to Leave
I voted to leave for the simple reason that I believe that the EU in it's current trajectory will result in bloody and destructive conflict. In my view the EU institutions and where the power really resides, (Mainly Germany for economic reasons), means that the EU cannot realistically become a democratically accountable structure. A most pertinent question would be 'who will be in charge?' Should it be a leader from say Greece? How about Latvia? Maybe Germany as they are the economic lead nation? The problem is that anyone from any of the countries will act in their particular interest, it is perfectly natural to do so. We have seen this in action over the Greek crisis.
I genuinely felt that we might have seen mass bloodshed on the streets of Greece, given the oppressive measures being forced on them by the Troika (ECB, IMF and Eurogroup). It is a complex problem and I strongly recommend a couple of books by Yanis Varoufakis, it is eye opening. Yanis is a supporter of the EU and remain but recognises the need to reform. Sadly the EU does not appear to be reforming and instead is bearing down on dissent where it can.
So that really was it. I voted because I fear a conflict in the future and let's be honest the EEC/EU has not prevented conflict, although it has helped. The main security against conflict has been in the collective defence of NATO, which the European nations have been taking full and unjustified advantage of for too long, by that I mean they have not been paying their way.
The last thing I will say, for now at least, is that the EU represents a market of 0.5bn people. That is a lot of BMWs, bottles of wine, bags of sugar etc that you can sell, whilst putting up barriers to prevent others getting in. The EU has and will remain a protectionist block that is lobbied by large corporations so they can enjoy the benefits of their influence. With new EU nations joining, they represent very cheap and mobile labour (as well as a market) that you can take advantage of.
I genuinely hope that the rest of the EU wake up and see what is happening so they can reform. I did not expect to wake up on that June morning in 2016 and find that the decision was to leave. I along with many others will find life a little more complicated when the departure becomes effective.
I think this will disappoint a lot of people who know me and most likely they will question my judgement. I will get the main question over with, I voted to leave. Good, now that is said I can finally feel relief that I should not feel burdened with the secret of what should be nobody's business but my own.
Why have I felt the need to be evasive or coy about my views, although, with my commentary on Facebook, it probably became very apparent what my standpoint was on the subject? I'll tell you why. It is the very divisive and disruptive nature of the whole debate, coupled with my strong connections to Belgium. There are all sorts of labels being applied to anyone who discusses the topic that they lose sight of what the real issues are and what they mean to those who cast their vote.
As a generalisation, and this is supported by the analysis of the voting demographics, my friends are split down very similar lines. Better educated and well off are EU fans, those not so well off and supposedly not so well educated are not hot with the EU. In the run up and post referendum, I have discussed the topic with my Belgian friends and An, who has remained remarkably impartial on the subject.
So why did I vote the way I did?
It is probably easier to say and more productive to say what my decision was not based upon. First and foremost my decision is not based on economics, if anyone was attempting to persuade me of the merits of remaining or leaving, economics was not something I was concerned about. Unquestionably there are economic opportunities and threats with leaving or maybe more correctly stated, consequences, but that was not a vote winner with me. The much criticised claim of the NHS benefiting by an additional £350m per week, did not play any role. I, like many reasonable people, saw that for what it was. The same could be said for the dire immediate economic impacts of voting to leave. The media and politicians have long spelt out doom and gloom which fails to materialise in quite the way they claimed.
Secondly, I did not vote because of immigration or some xenophobic fear of people coming over to take my job. I am concerned that we have a large city's worth of people entering the country every year without having the requisite infrastructure to support them. I do also feel that we should have better controls to allow in only the skills that we need in the country. I work in an industry sector which takes the best people in the world, wherever they happen to come from and employs them if they have the right skills and ambition. We also need immigration, let me say that again, we need immigration. The reason is that we are an aging population and we need to have a youthful workforce to keep powering our economy. I do feel that this message was not clearly aired, but perhaps the leavers would have felt they were alienating some of their potential voters. So immigration and the unfortunate labels that go with that debate were not relevant to my decision.
Thirdly and perhaps a little bit on the absurd side, I have no delusions or desire to go back to the days of Empire, even if that were at all possible. In my opinion the US Empire is on the wane, the Chinese are on the rise and the British Empire's heart stopped beating around the end of 1930s. No, I am not some cricket playing, fox hunting, feudal lord seeking slaves to work my land and any other ridiculous and imaginative connotations that you would like to dream up.
What shaped my views?
I grew up in the 1970s and 1980s. Essentially in slum conditions in the labour heartland that is Gateshead. Labour did little for me and Thatcher, the epitome of evil that her policies represented, was oppressive. During the miners strike I was in favour of the police, because I did not understand the politics at that age but thought that violence was clearly not the solution. When John Smith came along, I found that there was someone I could believe in, unfortunately he died before being able to get to the office of Prime Minister. Such a shame. Much though I detested Thatcher, she did possess strength of character and leadership, but lets not get too dreamy about that.
When Tony Blair came along and we had what I would describe of as the golden years of labour, I was a convert. People now say that he is a war criminal for the invasion of Iraq, but they were not saying such things when he took us into Bosnia and Sierra Leone. People have short memories and are far too judgmental.
Before Tony Blair came along I had the blessing of attending higher education, something I think I would have been put off from in this day and age due to the debt being incurred at such a young age. Among other things, I studied European Studies and at this point in time it was all about the Maastricht treaty. A few key headers from those days: in theory the European Union was a great idea, in practice it corrupted behavior. The UK was painted as that bad player, despite domestically introducing and adhering to most EU Directives and initiatives. Other nations appeared to play a rather more loose game. Assurances were given about no desire to have a federal superstate, although clearly that is very much the end state desired. It seemed that we were (in the form of free market economics) destroying our coal, steel and shipbuilding industries, whilst other European nations were subsidising them. This was the first thing to shape my views on the EU Project. But we are talking early 90s here.
The other main driver that has shaped my views has been the violent break up of the former Yugoslavia and USSR. Now the circumstances are somewhat different in both of those cases but they bring relevant and interesting points to the discussion. In the case of the former it was a bloody civil war involving all of the horrors of genocide and destruction on the civilian population. I feel that this is a risk that could apply to an EU superstate, fragmenting along former cultural and national lines.
In the case of the USSR, the EU is ever eager to welcome more countries and I take the view that the reason is twofold: firstly they can get another piece of developing market that they can sell their own goods to and secondly limiting access to competitors and why not. Turkey has a population (market of 77m) If they are ever brought into the fold completely then access to that market can be restricted by barriers to trade etc. So in the case of the USSR the former Eastern Bloc countries have no great desire to be governed by some central, undemocratic and oppressive regime. We have to remember the fun times they had behind the iron curtain. If you are 28 or under there is a good chance you will not know a lot about the USSR and being oppressed, a generalisation but something you should check out.
Why I Voted to Leave
I voted to leave for the simple reason that I believe that the EU in it's current trajectory will result in bloody and destructive conflict. In my view the EU institutions and where the power really resides, (Mainly Germany for economic reasons), means that the EU cannot realistically become a democratically accountable structure. A most pertinent question would be 'who will be in charge?' Should it be a leader from say Greece? How about Latvia? Maybe Germany as they are the economic lead nation? The problem is that anyone from any of the countries will act in their particular interest, it is perfectly natural to do so. We have seen this in action over the Greek crisis.
I genuinely felt that we might have seen mass bloodshed on the streets of Greece, given the oppressive measures being forced on them by the Troika (ECB, IMF and Eurogroup). It is a complex problem and I strongly recommend a couple of books by Yanis Varoufakis, it is eye opening. Yanis is a supporter of the EU and remain but recognises the need to reform. Sadly the EU does not appear to be reforming and instead is bearing down on dissent where it can.
So that really was it. I voted because I fear a conflict in the future and let's be honest the EEC/EU has not prevented conflict, although it has helped. The main security against conflict has been in the collective defence of NATO, which the European nations have been taking full and unjustified advantage of for too long, by that I mean they have not been paying their way.
The last thing I will say, for now at least, is that the EU represents a market of 0.5bn people. That is a lot of BMWs, bottles of wine, bags of sugar etc that you can sell, whilst putting up barriers to prevent others getting in. The EU has and will remain a protectionist block that is lobbied by large corporations so they can enjoy the benefits of their influence. With new EU nations joining, they represent very cheap and mobile labour (as well as a market) that you can take advantage of.
I genuinely hope that the rest of the EU wake up and see what is happening so they can reform. I did not expect to wake up on that June morning in 2016 and find that the decision was to leave. I along with many others will find life a little more complicated when the departure becomes effective.
Thursday, 12 April 2018
Love
I run, arms stretching out
Through the meadows,
Hands brushing the grass
On into the forests.
Rising up into the mountains,
Until my feet leave the ground,
I begin to fly, fly high.
Over the rivers,
Skimming out towards the sea,
I swoop low, laughing, smiling,
Bursting with boundless ecstasy.
I soar up towards the scudding clouds,
Bursting through to the bright sun beyond.
I fly ever faster, chasing down the sunset,
Into the inky black starry night.
Flying fast, I feel but a gentle,
Warm and comforting breeze.
I am invincible,
No fear,
No worries ,
No danger at all.
I look across,
I realise
I have seen all this,
Seen it in your eyes.
My heart has been pounding,
Now it settles to a peaceful beat,
As I take rest in your arms.
Through the meadows,
Hands brushing the grass
On into the forests.
Rising up into the mountains,
Until my feet leave the ground,
I begin to fly, fly high.
Over the rivers,
Skimming out towards the sea,
I swoop low, laughing, smiling,
Bursting with boundless ecstasy.
I soar up towards the scudding clouds,
Bursting through to the bright sun beyond.
I fly ever faster, chasing down the sunset,
Into the inky black starry night.
Flying fast, I feel but a gentle,
Warm and comforting breeze.
I am invincible,
No fear,
No worries ,
No danger at all.
I look across,
I realise
I have seen all this,
Seen it in your eyes.
My heart has been pounding,
Now it settles to a peaceful beat,
As I take rest in your arms.
Monday, 13 November 2017
Manchester - The Boys Are Back In Town
It has been a while since I last went drinking with this particular trio, but it was long since overdue. A command decision was made to commit to a night out in Manchester way back in September, which for the modern spur of the moment culture that we have become accustomed to, is refreshing. A co-ordinated meet in Manchester Piccadilly, converging from Edinburgh and London was arranged. I was the man on the spot with sweet FA local knowledge and left the organisation of where we would go to the Kumarish last minute.
The vital statistics:12,861 steps, mostly between the bar and the bathroom. We even managed to disagree on the location and best approach to one bar by splitting into two groups and converging in a pincer attack on the Tiki bar, just in case we met any opposition.
Meal for 4 at the Goucho, Argentinian Steak bar - £260 (well worth it though). We have come a long way since settling for cream cheese bagels at 3am in the centre of London...
Quantity of drinks: Classified, but let me put it this way, the shots were introduced at a surprisingly early point in the afternoon.
Taxi: a staggering £58 to get to Wilmslow in a black cab, I have a strong dislike of taxis (even though my cousin is a taxi driver). It was only £30 for one of our party to return to his well chosen hotel in the centre of Manchester (I failed spectacularly to give a clear indication of where my flat was). I am sure Sam at one point observed the lights of Blackpool as our cab went on a mystery tour.
Number of bars assessed: 5 (estimated), Not counting the pint at the hotel (14:30), we went more or less straight for the food (cocktails, pints and red wine), moving on to the Tiki (mostly G&T although the group was evenly split over pints and gin). The shots were 'fired' in the Tiki at around 16.00. I even noticed, with dismay, that Hamilton crashed in Brazil (on the TV obviously) I did not realise the implications of his crash at that point, but I digress. We consumed a very sticky vanilla liquor called 43, tasted okay but had the consistency of cough syrup. It begins to get hazy, but I recall there being more ice in my glass than sank the Titanic. I remember sucking the lime and crunching the ice once I had finished the good bit. The drinks were also served in plastic glasses and cups, well worth the money!
The order of the following bars was not that clear. We went for a walk to get to the Albert Schloss, in a bid to get to some live music. My sense of direction failed me and, despite my printed map, I was unable to locate the bar. I resorted to more modern technology in the shape of Google Maps on my phone, but the location indicator was jumping about in a manner not too dissimilar to the one in the Aliens movie. Sam graciously blamed the surrounding tall buildings, but we were losing valuable drinking time, after all it was 17.00! We stumbled, literally, into the Oast House, a place which immediately gave me my bearings again. One or three drinks later, we moved on.
The next bar (I think) was a The Dirty Martini, where we had er Martinis... The first one was a kind of coffee version and the subsequent one for me was a 'plain one' with olives. Sorry 007, I am clueless about Martinis, the only thing I know is my first experience was not favourable but I was willing to give it another go. The Albert Schloss had a queue outside and being mature 40 somethings, we don't queue. We moved on to the low point in the evening (from a drinking perspective), we went into a Brewdog bar (sorry Spider, not the kind of drink my fellow musketeers liked to imbibe). That said, we needed the toilet and we were too old to use an alleyway and it was way too early to chance it in desperation.
In my kind of thoughtful way, I had procured some provisions for my guests, these lay in my flat some distance south, south east of our location. A decision was made to deploy south after a brief stop at the hotel to collect overnight bags. In an act of poor planning I had bought some Peroni without any real prospect of us drinking it. My purchase was not to be in vain. Upon arrival I started to cook breakfast, bacon rolls (I was starving and I had two packs of bacon to get through, guess what I had for breakfast and lunch on Sunday?). I did not last long and was a rather poor host as I left the lads to it. I had pre-prepared the beds, but had forgotten to warn them that the internal doors tend to be impossible to open if fully shut, in the event it was not a problem.
Key highlights of the weekend:
I greeted Phil and Sam from the mezzanine at the railway station, saying Mo will be coming from platform 13 and that I would be right down. Like an excited child I skipped down the escalator, not knowing that Phil and Sam had gone to the opposite one to meet me on the mezzanine. Cue the comedy moment of them hailing me from above and then being told to stay right there! You could tell who were fathers among us! Mo, in the meantime was through the barriers and was consulting his phone, Sam and Phil initially walked past before being waved by me back in his direction. After an appropriate amount of man hugging for a public place, we led off to the hotel.
The vital statistics:12,861 steps, mostly between the bar and the bathroom. We even managed to disagree on the location and best approach to one bar by splitting into two groups and converging in a pincer attack on the Tiki bar, just in case we met any opposition.
Meal for 4 at the Goucho, Argentinian Steak bar - £260 (well worth it though). We have come a long way since settling for cream cheese bagels at 3am in the centre of London...
Quantity of drinks: Classified, but let me put it this way, the shots were introduced at a surprisingly early point in the afternoon.
Taxi: a staggering £58 to get to Wilmslow in a black cab, I have a strong dislike of taxis (even though my cousin is a taxi driver). It was only £30 for one of our party to return to his well chosen hotel in the centre of Manchester (I failed spectacularly to give a clear indication of where my flat was). I am sure Sam at one point observed the lights of Blackpool as our cab went on a mystery tour.
Number of bars assessed: 5 (estimated), Not counting the pint at the hotel (14:30), we went more or less straight for the food (cocktails, pints and red wine), moving on to the Tiki (mostly G&T although the group was evenly split over pints and gin). The shots were 'fired' in the Tiki at around 16.00. I even noticed, with dismay, that Hamilton crashed in Brazil (on the TV obviously) I did not realise the implications of his crash at that point, but I digress. We consumed a very sticky vanilla liquor called 43, tasted okay but had the consistency of cough syrup. It begins to get hazy, but I recall there being more ice in my glass than sank the Titanic. I remember sucking the lime and crunching the ice once I had finished the good bit. The drinks were also served in plastic glasses and cups, well worth the money!
The order of the following bars was not that clear. We went for a walk to get to the Albert Schloss, in a bid to get to some live music. My sense of direction failed me and, despite my printed map, I was unable to locate the bar. I resorted to more modern technology in the shape of Google Maps on my phone, but the location indicator was jumping about in a manner not too dissimilar to the one in the Aliens movie. Sam graciously blamed the surrounding tall buildings, but we were losing valuable drinking time, after all it was 17.00! We stumbled, literally, into the Oast House, a place which immediately gave me my bearings again. One or three drinks later, we moved on.
The next bar (I think) was a The Dirty Martini, where we had er Martinis... The first one was a kind of coffee version and the subsequent one for me was a 'plain one' with olives. Sorry 007, I am clueless about Martinis, the only thing I know is my first experience was not favourable but I was willing to give it another go. The Albert Schloss had a queue outside and being mature 40 somethings, we don't queue. We moved on to the low point in the evening (from a drinking perspective), we went into a Brewdog bar (sorry Spider, not the kind of drink my fellow musketeers liked to imbibe). That said, we needed the toilet and we were too old to use an alleyway and it was way too early to chance it in desperation.
In my kind of thoughtful way, I had procured some provisions for my guests, these lay in my flat some distance south, south east of our location. A decision was made to deploy south after a brief stop at the hotel to collect overnight bags. In an act of poor planning I had bought some Peroni without any real prospect of us drinking it. My purchase was not to be in vain. Upon arrival I started to cook breakfast, bacon rolls (I was starving and I had two packs of bacon to get through, guess what I had for breakfast and lunch on Sunday?). I did not last long and was a rather poor host as I left the lads to it. I had pre-prepared the beds, but had forgotten to warn them that the internal doors tend to be impossible to open if fully shut, in the event it was not a problem.
Key highlights of the weekend:
I greeted Phil and Sam from the mezzanine at the railway station, saying Mo will be coming from platform 13 and that I would be right down. Like an excited child I skipped down the escalator, not knowing that Phil and Sam had gone to the opposite one to meet me on the mezzanine. Cue the comedy moment of them hailing me from above and then being told to stay right there! You could tell who were fathers among us! Mo, in the meantime was through the barriers and was consulting his phone, Sam and Phil initially walked past before being waved by me back in his direction. After an appropriate amount of man hugging for a public place, we led off to the hotel.
WhatsApp was used to great effect to build the excitement as we took the mick across the ether. Sam had a running commentary as to whether he would make it to the train in London (not a bet I would recommend). Mo seemed to have an encounter with a horse called Penrith Jackie, although don't quote me on that. Phil was most concerned about the un-swept slippery leaves on the streets of Ealing. Unsurprisingly, Brexit and Trump came up in the topic of conversation, coincidentally with the words balls-up and twat for much of the discussion.
It is a far cry from losing my memory having drunk bottles of K Cider in Aberdeen during the 90s. Both Phil and I have similar memories of Manchester and Aberdeen in that neither of us can remember where anything is despite numerous visits...
All in all a great weekend and another in the pipeline soon, most likely Newcastle.
Wednesday, 30 August 2017
The Belgian Grand Prix - Spa-Francorchamps
To the slight irritation of my wife, I have been a fan of F1 since doing my tour of duty in Iraq with the Royal Navy in 2008. I used to find the sport (controversial to say that I know) extremely tedious and boring, the droning sound of the cars going round and round, I mean what is appealing about that? I became acquainted with the sport out of boredom and a desire to share some social time with my shorebased shipmates. My sympathies were almost immediately with Lewis Hamilton, then driving for McLaren and my dislike of his evil Machiavellian teammate, Fernando Alonso. I found his somewhat naive honesty and behaviour. Anyway, after many seasons watching Hamilton and his ups and downs, I have been a follower since.
Hamilton has matured and is much like the other drivers in terms of ambition and drive but I still believe that he is a fair player at heart and that is why I am a supporter. An decided to get me a ticket to my first Grand Prix, I cannot remember if I used any persuasion or not. This is my blog of the weekend and experiences of the event.
Friday 25th August - First and Second Practice
Prior to the event I did my research, booked my parking space and decided to take a packed lunch and my camera. I was in the main stand opposite the pit lane at the La Source hairpin end of the track. I had no idea what to expect, just that the traffic would be busy and it would be noisy and full of fumes.
The first thing to point out is that although I booked my parking, I ended up in three different car parks some distance apart on the weekend. No one scanned the ticket, as warned on the printout, so presumably anyone could turn up with something that looked like a parking ticket and then get themselves parked.
I set out around 07.25 from Leuven and got to Spa around 09.30. I rather annoyingly drove past the queue of traffic on the slip road and snuck in towards the end. Junction 10 was the exit and there were a large number of marshals and police officers directing traffic, in what was clearly a well drilled routine, to the relevant areas. It was not too much of a hassle to get in, which was deceptive as both Saturday and Sunday were considerably busier than Friday.
At this stage the other thing to highlight is that, understandably, the majority of visitors are complete and utter petrol heads. The range of international vehicle registrations along with the ratio of twin and quadruple exhausts provided enough evidence of the character of their drivers. This was to provide some frustration on the last day when trying to leave the farmers field (car park) with any kind of order and respect.
So upon arrival in the car park I grabbed my bags and started to follow the crowd through the woods and down towards the loud growing sounds of engines. You could not see the track at that point and it was a lovely walk in the woods, save for the out of place engine noise. I arrived and began queuing at the Steyr Gate, this is the main gate that leads to the F1 Village and associated food, merchandising and fleecing area. Your ticket is scanned and your bags are searched, the first of many searches and checks. It is worth saying that it can be easy to lose your ticket if you have not got a special holder or keep it safely secured in a pocket. I picked one up for a lady who had not noticed that she had dropped it. Imagine if you are drinking as well.
On the subject of drinking, I was alone and therefore I did not drink alcohol at all. The choice, from what I could see, is pretty poor. Heineken and Johnny Walker, two sponsors of the event. For a county that has a reputation for quality beers, it is a bit of a let down to find such poor beer on sale. However, everything is overpriced as you would expect and the sponsors get to dominate and pay their respective fees to the FIA. I succumbed to the merchandising and bought a golfing umbrella and Hamilton t-shirt. I also took a ride in a F1 simulator which cost an extortionate 15 euros for 2 minutes of a simulated lap of Silverstone (with others in the module).
What I did not appreciate is the amount of walking that I would be doing both to and from the car parks and around the trackside. Friday was relatively boring so I used that day to explore the F1 Village and to watch the practice sessions. The practice sessions, for me, are much of a muchness. I left before the end of second practice and headed home, beating the exit from the car parks. There is a full programme with the Formula 2 and Porches, so for those enthusiasts it is worth staying.
It seemed surreal that I was there, so often having seen things on the TV. I spotted TV personalities and I could see the better end of the pit lane with the Ferraris, Red Bulls and Mercedes teams. You did not get to see the team principals or drivers (save for their helmet covered heads). I took the opportunity to get some photos in and get a feel for what I could or could not reach with my camera.
Hamilton has matured and is much like the other drivers in terms of ambition and drive but I still believe that he is a fair player at heart and that is why I am a supporter. An decided to get me a ticket to my first Grand Prix, I cannot remember if I used any persuasion or not. This is my blog of the weekend and experiences of the event.
Friday 25th August - First and Second Practice
Prior to the event I did my research, booked my parking space and decided to take a packed lunch and my camera. I was in the main stand opposite the pit lane at the La Source hairpin end of the track. I had no idea what to expect, just that the traffic would be busy and it would be noisy and full of fumes.
The first thing to point out is that although I booked my parking, I ended up in three different car parks some distance apart on the weekend. No one scanned the ticket, as warned on the printout, so presumably anyone could turn up with something that looked like a parking ticket and then get themselves parked.
I set out around 07.25 from Leuven and got to Spa around 09.30. I rather annoyingly drove past the queue of traffic on the slip road and snuck in towards the end. Junction 10 was the exit and there were a large number of marshals and police officers directing traffic, in what was clearly a well drilled routine, to the relevant areas. It was not too much of a hassle to get in, which was deceptive as both Saturday and Sunday were considerably busier than Friday.
At this stage the other thing to highlight is that, understandably, the majority of visitors are complete and utter petrol heads. The range of international vehicle registrations along with the ratio of twin and quadruple exhausts provided enough evidence of the character of their drivers. This was to provide some frustration on the last day when trying to leave the farmers field (car park) with any kind of order and respect.
So upon arrival in the car park I grabbed my bags and started to follow the crowd through the woods and down towards the loud growing sounds of engines. You could not see the track at that point and it was a lovely walk in the woods, save for the out of place engine noise. I arrived and began queuing at the Steyr Gate, this is the main gate that leads to the F1 Village and associated food, merchandising and fleecing area. Your ticket is scanned and your bags are searched, the first of many searches and checks. It is worth saying that it can be easy to lose your ticket if you have not got a special holder or keep it safely secured in a pocket. I picked one up for a lady who had not noticed that she had dropped it. Imagine if you are drinking as well.
On the subject of drinking, I was alone and therefore I did not drink alcohol at all. The choice, from what I could see, is pretty poor. Heineken and Johnny Walker, two sponsors of the event. For a county that has a reputation for quality beers, it is a bit of a let down to find such poor beer on sale. However, everything is overpriced as you would expect and the sponsors get to dominate and pay their respective fees to the FIA. I succumbed to the merchandising and bought a golfing umbrella and Hamilton t-shirt. I also took a ride in a F1 simulator which cost an extortionate 15 euros for 2 minutes of a simulated lap of Silverstone (with others in the module).
What I did not appreciate is the amount of walking that I would be doing both to and from the car parks and around the trackside. Friday was relatively boring so I used that day to explore the F1 Village and to watch the practice sessions. The practice sessions, for me, are much of a muchness. I left before the end of second practice and headed home, beating the exit from the car parks. There is a full programme with the Formula 2 and Porches, so for those enthusiasts it is worth staying.
It seemed surreal that I was there, so often having seen things on the TV. I spotted TV personalities and I could see the better end of the pit lane with the Ferraris, Red Bulls and Mercedes teams. You did not get to see the team principals or drivers (save for their helmet covered heads). I took the opportunity to get some photos in and get a feel for what I could or could not reach with my camera.
Thursday, 27 July 2017
Dunkirk - Spoiler Alert - Do Not Read If You Have Not Seen The Film
I put out a call on Facebook to any friends that may have been in Manchester to ask whether they would like to go and see Dunkirk. A wit replied, "Are you going by ferry or Eurostar?" My response to this was, "No, by small pleasure boat". I had been eagerly awaiting the release of Christopher Nolan's film and, when no one answered my call, I took it upon myself to go alone.
It is difficult to know where to start with this, perspective is everything and an individual watching the movie will judge it from their own level of knowledge, experience and understanding.
The film lacks context, it is rather focussed on a group of individuals and their role in evacuation. The scene is set initially, when a group of British soldiers are seen walking through a deserted street and read leaflets dropped from the sky outlining the position they are in. The simple image is of a map with Dunkirk and the menacing red of the German army surrounding the remaining allies. Okay so we now know that we are surrounded. There is no lead up, explanation or context. You do not get a taste of the Phoney War, the frantic and unsuccessful fight to stop the Blitzkrieg advance of the German armour and the atrocities that are committed by troops and aircraft against the civilian population and prisoners of war. The context is further enhanced by the scene between Commander Bolton and Colonel Winnant on the Mole, Bolton states that they aim to get 30-40 thousand off the beach and Winnant replies that there are 400,000 on the beach. We have the scale and so we then turn to the story.
The audience will experience different feelings depending upon the attributes of their perspective. I know the history, what happens, the context and so I understood from the outset. I have also studied military history, I am ex-Royal Navy and therefore I have a view on the action that was to follow. I did, however, put the situation into a more modern political and economic perspective as I was viewing.
The group of British soldiers came under fire and in sheer desperation and panic fled from an unseen enemy. The gunfire and ruthlessness of the slaughter hit home and, as the last survivor of the group ran, he came across the sandbag walled defences manned by French soldiers. Initially he came under fire from the defenders but was soon recognised and allowed over the barrier, the look of disgust from the French soldiers as the British soldier cowered and ran for his life brought thoughts of Brexit to mind. The context of the British sacrifice, both on the ground and in the air was missing. Our investment in the fight to that point and onwards was not recognised by the film. On he ran, to the beach and was met with the sight of queues of soldiers patiently waiting to evacuate.
One of the striking things about the film is it's gritty reality, fear and shock. The scenes that follow are desperate, in fact one could argue that the desperation is playing to the fear that the men will not make it, it is utterly hopeless and each attempt is almost fruitless. We see the loss of ships and aircraft, the killing of men but no real success and no scale of the numbers being evacuated. It is definitely not gory and in the same stomach churning league as Saving Private Ryan or The Fury. But then it does not need any of that to convey the depth of feeling and struggle of the situation.
There is a refreshing lack of GCI and the ships and aircraft seem frighteningly real, the feeling of being trapped and about to drown is gripping, even to the point where you are desperate for breath as you sit in your seat.
There is a determination against what can be regarded as common sense and self preservation and perhaps this is another reference to Brexit. The determination to fight through and survive is evident.
During the many, and perhaps over-compensating, air battles, it is clear that shooting down an aircraft is not easy and takes patience and skill to do. You can almost feel the learning experience of the fighter pilots as they try and shoot the enemy down. The RAF were not particularly visible during the evacuation and this does not come through as strongly as it was felt by the men on the ground. It is interesting to note that one of the three Spitfires in the formation is shot down without much fuss. Some in the audience would not have realised that this was a common tactic of the German air force against a rather flawed choice of formation by the RAF. Many German Aces scored easy kills this way and we do not even get a chance to see the doomed pilot in any sense.
We do not see or hear from any Germans, but you feel the presence of these anonymous aggressors and the shocking impact of their bullets and bombs. In fact you only really see some Germans up close in the very final scene but no context again and no opportunity to understand their point of view.
The film is very patriotic and comes to a close as the remaining Spitfire runs out of fuel, having elected to shoot down an enemy Stuka dive bomber rather than turn for home. You can feel the pilots dilemma about whether to stay and fight or to head home to re-arm. Again, maybe a PR exercise on behalf of the RAF or an attempt to show that it was a difficult decision to make. The aircraft then proceeds to glide majestically above the beach, the pilot desperately cranking the landing gear down before he runs out of height. He does manage to bring the machine down, well away from friendly forces and then proceeds to burn it and watches as it goes. This is the first time we see the pilot's face (Tom Hardy). Is this our history we burn, our links to Europe, our last hope? There are many perspectives that can be taken from this, act as the stirring version of Engima Variations and Nimrod play to the excerpts of Winston Churchill's famous 'Fight them on the Beaches' speech being read out.
What is not so clear is that although we have run, we will return and we can stand alone against the threat facing us and we do so in the name of freedom and what is right. Very stirring, but in my mind reflections of Brexit again came to mind.
When the film ended I waited until the end of the credits before I left. I left in a deep mood of reflection and with very strong views, determined to write this blog.
I felt so strongly that when I spoke to my wife later on, I got quite annoyed about some of the comments. I tried to highlight that different people will view this movie through different lenses and the lack of context will skew their point of view. People will champion their cause by drawing similarities between the situation in 1940 and the present. "Gunning down of survivors and queueing soldiers just happens in war" was one such comment that drew fire from me. No it doesn't or rather it shouldn't. "The war had just started", no it hadn't there was months of inaction preceding it. I also pointed out that history in UK schools is optional after a point, An was shocked. Some will have no idea at all and have to rely on grandparents and parents (if they know) to educate them.
The evacuation of Dunkirk was a miracle but because of the inexplicable inaction of the Germans to finish the job. This gifted Churchill the propaganda coup to salvage some dignity from the disaster. Worse was to come when the Japanese achieved a far more complete victory in Singapore in 1942.
You can of course just watch the movie for it's entertainment value.
It is difficult to know where to start with this, perspective is everything and an individual watching the movie will judge it from their own level of knowledge, experience and understanding.
The film lacks context, it is rather focussed on a group of individuals and their role in evacuation. The scene is set initially, when a group of British soldiers are seen walking through a deserted street and read leaflets dropped from the sky outlining the position they are in. The simple image is of a map with Dunkirk and the menacing red of the German army surrounding the remaining allies. Okay so we now know that we are surrounded. There is no lead up, explanation or context. You do not get a taste of the Phoney War, the frantic and unsuccessful fight to stop the Blitzkrieg advance of the German armour and the atrocities that are committed by troops and aircraft against the civilian population and prisoners of war. The context is further enhanced by the scene between Commander Bolton and Colonel Winnant on the Mole, Bolton states that they aim to get 30-40 thousand off the beach and Winnant replies that there are 400,000 on the beach. We have the scale and so we then turn to the story.
The audience will experience different feelings depending upon the attributes of their perspective. I know the history, what happens, the context and so I understood from the outset. I have also studied military history, I am ex-Royal Navy and therefore I have a view on the action that was to follow. I did, however, put the situation into a more modern political and economic perspective as I was viewing.
The group of British soldiers came under fire and in sheer desperation and panic fled from an unseen enemy. The gunfire and ruthlessness of the slaughter hit home and, as the last survivor of the group ran, he came across the sandbag walled defences manned by French soldiers. Initially he came under fire from the defenders but was soon recognised and allowed over the barrier, the look of disgust from the French soldiers as the British soldier cowered and ran for his life brought thoughts of Brexit to mind. The context of the British sacrifice, both on the ground and in the air was missing. Our investment in the fight to that point and onwards was not recognised by the film. On he ran, to the beach and was met with the sight of queues of soldiers patiently waiting to evacuate.
One of the striking things about the film is it's gritty reality, fear and shock. The scenes that follow are desperate, in fact one could argue that the desperation is playing to the fear that the men will not make it, it is utterly hopeless and each attempt is almost fruitless. We see the loss of ships and aircraft, the killing of men but no real success and no scale of the numbers being evacuated. It is definitely not gory and in the same stomach churning league as Saving Private Ryan or The Fury. But then it does not need any of that to convey the depth of feeling and struggle of the situation.
There is a refreshing lack of GCI and the ships and aircraft seem frighteningly real, the feeling of being trapped and about to drown is gripping, even to the point where you are desperate for breath as you sit in your seat.
There is a determination against what can be regarded as common sense and self preservation and perhaps this is another reference to Brexit. The determination to fight through and survive is evident.
During the many, and perhaps over-compensating, air battles, it is clear that shooting down an aircraft is not easy and takes patience and skill to do. You can almost feel the learning experience of the fighter pilots as they try and shoot the enemy down. The RAF were not particularly visible during the evacuation and this does not come through as strongly as it was felt by the men on the ground. It is interesting to note that one of the three Spitfires in the formation is shot down without much fuss. Some in the audience would not have realised that this was a common tactic of the German air force against a rather flawed choice of formation by the RAF. Many German Aces scored easy kills this way and we do not even get a chance to see the doomed pilot in any sense.
We do not see or hear from any Germans, but you feel the presence of these anonymous aggressors and the shocking impact of their bullets and bombs. In fact you only really see some Germans up close in the very final scene but no context again and no opportunity to understand their point of view.
The film is very patriotic and comes to a close as the remaining Spitfire runs out of fuel, having elected to shoot down an enemy Stuka dive bomber rather than turn for home. You can feel the pilots dilemma about whether to stay and fight or to head home to re-arm. Again, maybe a PR exercise on behalf of the RAF or an attempt to show that it was a difficult decision to make. The aircraft then proceeds to glide majestically above the beach, the pilot desperately cranking the landing gear down before he runs out of height. He does manage to bring the machine down, well away from friendly forces and then proceeds to burn it and watches as it goes. This is the first time we see the pilot's face (Tom Hardy). Is this our history we burn, our links to Europe, our last hope? There are many perspectives that can be taken from this, act as the stirring version of Engima Variations and Nimrod play to the excerpts of Winston Churchill's famous 'Fight them on the Beaches' speech being read out.
What is not so clear is that although we have run, we will return and we can stand alone against the threat facing us and we do so in the name of freedom and what is right. Very stirring, but in my mind reflections of Brexit again came to mind.
When the film ended I waited until the end of the credits before I left. I left in a deep mood of reflection and with very strong views, determined to write this blog.
I felt so strongly that when I spoke to my wife later on, I got quite annoyed about some of the comments. I tried to highlight that different people will view this movie through different lenses and the lack of context will skew their point of view. People will champion their cause by drawing similarities between the situation in 1940 and the present. "Gunning down of survivors and queueing soldiers just happens in war" was one such comment that drew fire from me. No it doesn't or rather it shouldn't. "The war had just started", no it hadn't there was months of inaction preceding it. I also pointed out that history in UK schools is optional after a point, An was shocked. Some will have no idea at all and have to rely on grandparents and parents (if they know) to educate them.
The evacuation of Dunkirk was a miracle but because of the inexplicable inaction of the Germans to finish the job. This gifted Churchill the propaganda coup to salvage some dignity from the disaster. Worse was to come when the Japanese achieved a far more complete victory in Singapore in 1942.
You can of course just watch the movie for it's entertainment value.
Thursday, 20 July 2017
When The Going Gets Tough, The Tough Get a White Chocolate Chip Cookie
A long time ago, when I was young, strong willed and, if I'm honest, a bit of a dick, I would take to the moral high ground in my bid to do the right thing. I paid scant regard for the threat of violence, tact or diplomacy as I crusaded for what I felt was the right reasons. As my peers and superiors seethed at my exposure of their weaknesses and incompetence, I blundered on until silenced by the sight of my colleagues falling asleep or the unreasonable command of my superiors to 'take it offline'.
In my early days, of course, taking things offline would have made no sense at all, I grew up in the age of rented TVs, fixed landlines and using my imagination when playing games (quite a bit of fun too). It used to be 'we shall discuss this later', which was their way of saying 'you twat, stand by for a shoeing'. How I managed to avoid beatings in my youth I do not know.
Age has mellowed me somewhat and now when I come across people who are unwilling to listen to reason, be they peers or superiors, I calmly set out my case and take an objective look at the issues when finding a solution. When I am subsequently browbeaten into submission, as is often the case, I then have to resort to alternative action. It is often not helpful to express what is inevitably swirling around in your mind and the strong desire to go back to the schoolyard and shout 'don't come running to me when it all ends in tears!', or other words to that effect, will not ease the frustration. It is at this point that I have learned that it is better to walk away, away to the nearest purveyor of white chocolate chip cookies and gain solace in those.
Often grumbling unintelligibly as you pass by innocent colleagues on your way to the coffee shop. It is an unfortunate error of judgement that one of them, especially the older ones, will ask politely and unsuspectingly, 'hi, everything good?'
Oh dear, as their smile vanishes when you answer truthfully that no, things are not good. They desperately look for cover and hope someone calls them on their mobile, passing staff get rolled in as the original colleague begs them (it's in their eyes) to rescue them. Before you know it you have a rebellion as sympathisers come out on your side and readily acknowledge the shortfalls of the offending person. I tend to ask if people would like the truth when I am in cookie mode, that way they have the choice of not listening to Eeyore and then trying to slash their wrists later on.
There are times when a cookie is not enough and I have two other levels of food sulk, bag of liquorish allsorts and packet of wagon wheels. Often though one must make do with what is available and it is like being in the Sahara without water when the shops are closed and you have no change for the vending machine. If you are like me the vending machine eats your money anyway and give you nothing in return, technically a breach of contract, but in reality it is an extension of the offending person rubbing in your being placed firmly and securely in your box.
I don't like being in boxes, not because I am claustrophobic, but because my best thinking is done outside the box (did you like that?). I am an optimist at heart and I often recover by putting myself in the shoes of others, quite tricky if they are deep sea diving boots or stilettos for that matter. Still I try to understand and accept that I cannot control or influence everything that goes on. Persistent twats are another story, but then that is why we have Mr Kipling.
One of the things I have become quite adept at is recognising when my colleagues and peers are facing the same tensions. Recognition, coffee and listening is often the best way of bringing them back down, being careful to keep them away from bottles, staplers or any other potential weapons that might be lying around. It is critical to avoid sarcasm at the early stages when approaching your colleague on the ceiling, they might well strike out in reflex and it is difficult to explain a split lip to the wife when you get home.
If it all gets too much then a large creamy trifle is probably best, this is not for you, but for the offending person. The idea being to locate the said trifle centred on the face and delivered with insane laughter and a twitching eye. Unfortunately and probably for the best, trifles are rare items indeed in these environments unless of course there is a staff party going on nearby. In the absence of trifle I recommend comedy from a range of well known stand up comedians or indeed a spot of writing.
In my early days, of course, taking things offline would have made no sense at all, I grew up in the age of rented TVs, fixed landlines and using my imagination when playing games (quite a bit of fun too). It used to be 'we shall discuss this later', which was their way of saying 'you twat, stand by for a shoeing'. How I managed to avoid beatings in my youth I do not know.
Age has mellowed me somewhat and now when I come across people who are unwilling to listen to reason, be they peers or superiors, I calmly set out my case and take an objective look at the issues when finding a solution. When I am subsequently browbeaten into submission, as is often the case, I then have to resort to alternative action. It is often not helpful to express what is inevitably swirling around in your mind and the strong desire to go back to the schoolyard and shout 'don't come running to me when it all ends in tears!', or other words to that effect, will not ease the frustration. It is at this point that I have learned that it is better to walk away, away to the nearest purveyor of white chocolate chip cookies and gain solace in those.
Often grumbling unintelligibly as you pass by innocent colleagues on your way to the coffee shop. It is an unfortunate error of judgement that one of them, especially the older ones, will ask politely and unsuspectingly, 'hi, everything good?'
Oh dear, as their smile vanishes when you answer truthfully that no, things are not good. They desperately look for cover and hope someone calls them on their mobile, passing staff get rolled in as the original colleague begs them (it's in their eyes) to rescue them. Before you know it you have a rebellion as sympathisers come out on your side and readily acknowledge the shortfalls of the offending person. I tend to ask if people would like the truth when I am in cookie mode, that way they have the choice of not listening to Eeyore and then trying to slash their wrists later on.
There are times when a cookie is not enough and I have two other levels of food sulk, bag of liquorish allsorts and packet of wagon wheels. Often though one must make do with what is available and it is like being in the Sahara without water when the shops are closed and you have no change for the vending machine. If you are like me the vending machine eats your money anyway and give you nothing in return, technically a breach of contract, but in reality it is an extension of the offending person rubbing in your being placed firmly and securely in your box.
I don't like being in boxes, not because I am claustrophobic, but because my best thinking is done outside the box (did you like that?). I am an optimist at heart and I often recover by putting myself in the shoes of others, quite tricky if they are deep sea diving boots or stilettos for that matter. Still I try to understand and accept that I cannot control or influence everything that goes on. Persistent twats are another story, but then that is why we have Mr Kipling.
One of the things I have become quite adept at is recognising when my colleagues and peers are facing the same tensions. Recognition, coffee and listening is often the best way of bringing them back down, being careful to keep them away from bottles, staplers or any other potential weapons that might be lying around. It is critical to avoid sarcasm at the early stages when approaching your colleague on the ceiling, they might well strike out in reflex and it is difficult to explain a split lip to the wife when you get home.
If it all gets too much then a large creamy trifle is probably best, this is not for you, but for the offending person. The idea being to locate the said trifle centred on the face and delivered with insane laughter and a twitching eye. Unfortunately and probably for the best, trifles are rare items indeed in these environments unless of course there is a staff party going on nearby. In the absence of trifle I recommend comedy from a range of well known stand up comedians or indeed a spot of writing.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)