A laugh a minute read

A couple of times this week I have been asked the equivalent of “will you put this in your blog?” so before I begin, I thought I would just recap on the Rules for you.

1. Everything in the blog is true – for a given value of true. So incidents may be slightly embellished for artistic or narrative reasons, or perhaps things will be tied together because the story is better that way.
2. But the fact that everything in the blog happens doesn't mean that everything that happens gets in the blog. I don’t give you the boring stuff (I hope) and I don’t give you stuff that I choose not to share. My blog, my rules.
3. I don’t share things that allow others to be identified without their express prior consent. That’s called manners. (I wouldn’t tag you on Facebook without asking for the same reason.)
4. I try to keep posts manageable in length. So I often omit back story. If something absolutely needs 2,000 words of explanation, it probably doesn’t get in the blog

On with the show.

It’s being a tiring week. And I've felt that today, so have tried to take it quite easy. Still managed a decent walk and the gym, but apart from that it has been a day to lounge around, and I am sure tomorrow will be the same. I was so tired I even had an afternoon nap today, which was lovely but very unlike me.

So, given desired laziness, it is good that the second volume of Danny Baker’s autobiography came on my Kindle this week. I know that some people loathe Baker – usually because they think he is some sort of gobby know-it-all. I disagree. Well, no, I don’t, because he is. But he is someone I have a lot of time for – for some reason I am drawn to gobby know-it-alls.

‘Going Off Alarming’ is hysterically funny. Those of you who know my rare but impressive ability of getting into a giggling fit which is uncontrollable will be delighted to know that his exploits in ‘painting’ a ceiling treated my fellow passengers to an example of this between Balham and Colliers Wood today. This was I think the fifth chapter of the book, and it is all just as funny. His stories of his father in particular carry a warmth that is touching but are gut-wrenchingly funny too. And his meetings with celebs (for example Kenneth Williams and Frankie Howerd) bring through so much about all concerned.

I suspect that the third thing I share with Baker (this isn't an editing error, read the post again if you think ‘what’s he on about, third?’ is that some incidents are embellished for the purpose of the narrative. So what? This is reading for pleasure, not learning about World War II.

In the past I've played that game ‘pick x number of people alive or dead that you would invite to dinner’. 95% of me would have Baker on that list, and near the top. The other 5% just wonders whether it would be a waste, because none of the others would get a word in edge-ways.  I’d be happy just to listen.

And on the subject of list memes, I had a lot of fun this week doing the ‘Twenty albums that changed your life’ thing on Facebook. That was difficult, but gave me a great excuse to soar widely through my music collection to make choices. I doubt Joe Jackson reads this, but if you do Joe, you were so close – on another day maybe you would have got in, but maybe next time.

That’s enough – more Danny Baker awaits.

Musings on angels

Whilst I certainly have a dream or two, I differ from ABBA in that I do not believe in angels.

Some of you will know that I have been in a pretty dark place over the last week. No details here, but a very unpleasant work situation which has caused a lot of people a lot of pain. I am very pleased that this is now very much in the past, and it seems that life will be going on pretty much as before. Albeit it with a few more grey hairs.

The cliché is that what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. The reason clichés are clichés is because they are broadly true, and I think I emerge from this wiser if nothing else.

So this is a very brief blog post to say thank you to some people. I don’t think anyone at work reads my blog (god - I hope they don't), but they have all been so supportive of me at this time – it makes me realise what a great team of people they are.

More specifically to the friends who have either reached out in response to some cryptic but bleak Fb or Twitter messages to check I was OK. And the ones who have contacted me to offer help and a (in some cases literal) shoulder to cry on. I am privileged to have you as friends, and you know I would be there for you in the same way.

The point of the first line of this blog? Well, it’s the ‘no atheists in fox-holes’ argument I guess. If every I either a) needed or b) felt that there was a guardian angel looking out for me, now would be that time. I didn't look for that angel, and nor do I think he* was guiding me. But in the same way as atheists believe that they live on not through an eternal afterlife, but through the memories they leave behind, this has shown me that it is friends and colleagues who give you the guidance space and support that helps you through these things.

To all of you – a very heartfelt and tearful ‘thank you’.

* Are angels ‘he’? Seem to remember that they are.

Standing at a crossroads

I think it took until Thursday night for me to come down from my post-Kate Bush blissed-out state, but that was only because I was having a fairly major work nightmare – and not of the sleeping kind. Not going to go into detail but it brought me crashing back to earth. Shame, because I was having a lovely night, too.

I tried with some success to rekindle the feeling this morning. In my review I suggested KB’s voice was as good as it had been when she first recorded Hounds of Love. I’ve changed my mind on re-listening – it’s better. It had a depth and control on Wednesday beyond that on the recording.

But that’s enough KB – except to say I feel so privileged to have seen her.

Today, as well as my usual walk and gym trips I went to see a free concert in my local (100 yds away) church – St Mary’s. This was the Metier Ensemble – a young trio (piano cello and flute) who were excellent. It’s a bit of a shame only 50 people were there – the concert deserved better than that.

And then tonight I've been timekeeping at a swimming gala, at the new Streatham Pool. A facility where it seems they have tried to save money by making the swimming pool double as a sauna. Too darn hot I’m afraid.

I’ve been watching the post-referendum fall-out with a horrible sense of predictability. Very pleased (see past blogs) about the result, but who’d have thought that exactly what Devo Max means or necessitates would give rise to a row?

I think it was always going to mean trouble for the three main party leaders to announce, presidentially, a major change to the powers of parliament without consulting parliament. And the lines of debate are very predictable, and actually quite understandable.

Unless the Civil Service has been working on this for the last two years, doing everything from scratch by May seems reckless – it simply needs more thought (so a point to Labour there). But to give power to Scotland without a guarantee of changes in Westminster is also unacceptable (a point to the Tories). Mr Clegg – you don’t get any points, because you’ve not said what you think.

And thanks to parliamentary sovereignty, this parliament can’t bind the next. So Cameron sees the danger that an incoming Labour-led government will simply fail to implement the one logical solution which is (f**k, I hate to agree with Fat Dave) English Votes on English issues. Or at least no Scottish votes on them.

So where does this leave us? Cameron can’t guarantee being in power in June, so will want to get the Westlothian question sorted by then. Can he force it through? Will the SNP etc support if the option is delaying for a longer period? Will he avoid it being a total dog’s breakfast due to failing to prepare properly?

You may recall pre-referendum I called for devolution to a lower level than just England, and it is pleasing that many politicians obviously read my blog and have joined that cause at my calling(!) But I hope this doesn’t end up with us going back to regional assemblies and elected police commissioner-type things, with all the consequent cost. Let’s use the institutions we have and let them do more.

If there are lessons to learn from #indyref the top two are:

1. If people feel politics matters, they can get energised about it – so we need to get people to feel parliament matters, or that they can make a difference
2. (A prospective lesson) – don’t promise what you can’t deliver unless you want to unleash a whirlwind – either of open Scottish rebellion or it seems open English rebellion.

This country is like the hooker who used to* work Tooting Common – it spends most of its time standing at a crossroads. But this is a real inflexion point. We could build on the Scottish enthusiasm and create a newly engaged political system to last the rest of my lifetime. Or we could give people another reason (which they don’t really need to be honest) to be cynical about failed promises etc. And that is extremely dangerous.

People of my generation – maybe even of my parents – are now so distanced from real political instability that we think it’s not going to happen. This is complacent, and I believe it is wrong. This country runs a real risk of proper civil strife – not a week of riots around London. My children’s generation faces a crap job market, rising debt, unaffordable housing, and a diminishing benefits system. There’s not a lot to be hopeful about for a twenty-something with a student loan and a call-centre McJob.

These are the conditions in which revolutions happen. They happen for many reasons, but a key one is because the people do not believe there is any prospect of the system as it is delivering change. So that one the character emerges to lead the people they will rise behind him/her.

You may think I’m being a fantasist here – and maybe I am. But what we cannot do is take for granted that ‘the people’ will continue to take the same old sh*t indefinitely. And, even if I am wrong and they in fact will, WHY THE HELL SHOULD THEY??

So come on Fat Dave, Useless Ed and Slimy Nick. Between you, sort it out. You may be relieved that you’ve not gone down as the leaders who destroyed the union (because Labour must take a lot of the blame for not carrying the Union vote, especially in Glasgow), but you are by no means out of the woods yet!

  

*She may still – that is something I know very little about!

Little Light, Shining.

I've sort of kept it quiet, but I was lucky enough to go and see Kate Bush at the Hammersmith Apollo last night.

This is not a full blow-by-blow review. If you want one of those, perhaps have a look at Tracey Thorn’s for the New Statesman – she says it better than I ever could.

Row J it said on the ticket – ten rows back – that had to be good. But the stage was built out a little, so Row J was the fifth, with an amazing view so long as everyone in front of me wasn't standing to applaud. Which they were. Frequently. Not a problem; one of the benefits of being tall I guess.

The Band consisted of seven – with a drummer and separate full percussion set (needed if you think about the Hounds of Love album in particular). Plus five backing singers. And the first half dozen songs were a pretty standard rock gig – standing there delivering songs and doing little else.

This let us see what Kate Bush has become in her non-touring years. The voice. My god the voice. I dare say the songs have been re-pitched a little (maybe down a third for Hounds of Love – ish). But the power, and the ability to go from little-girl-lost vulnerable to rock diva. Opening with Lily (The Red Shoes) and running quite a lot from that mid-period around Hounds of Love to Aerial this really showed that she hasn't lost the knack. 

I wonder how you train for that? A three hour set where you are singing for most of it would tax most singers. Not, it seemed, our Kate. Plenty of water being drunk between songs, but pretty much spot on. As a song, "Running Up that Hill" is the stand-out, but as a performance, it had to be “King of the Mountain” from Aerial. Kate does Elvis very well indeed.

And then, nicely warmed up, we moved into what I still think of as the second “side” of Hounds of Love – the Ninth Wave concept piece. Heavy use of video, SFX, dance and actors to build the narrative which runs from the glorious “And Dream of Sheep” right through to “Hello Earth”. And before we knew it, it was the interval – an hour and forty minutes gone in a heartbeat.

Twenty minutes on and back in, and soon into the second concept / song-cycle. The “Sky of Honey” from Aerial. Without the Rolf Harris bit, although with her son playing the role of the painter. And he was good. His solo song, when KB went off for a breather, was well received, but was a bit like the drummer’s solo at a prog rock gig. If I had a watch on, that would have been the only time in the show I would have been tempted to glance at it.

Lots of use of bird imagery – drawing on the singing/come birdsong that litters the studio album, with puppetry and digital effects also. I felt it was a much heavier sound than in the studio. (And having listened again this morning to the CD, I was right about this). In particular, "Sunset", which is a pretty and gentle song started off as what I would call “dirty funk” before morphing into full-on flamenco. God, it was good.

The band gave its bows, and then Kate retunred to the theme of cherubim to deliver "Among Angels" from “50 Words for Snow”. Solo at the piano, as fragile as tissue paper. And then closing with Cloudbusting. “What made it special made it dangerous” indeed.

KB seemed genuinely overcome by the audience reception. I can’t believe that our night gave her more than every other one, but for a woman who clearly was least at her ease when talking and not lost in the song, it seems that the validation from her fans still takes her breath away.

I was I think eleven last time KB toured. At 35 year intervals, I doubt I’ll make the next one. Part of me thinks it will be lovely if this is a complete one-off – and I was one of the 70,000-ish people to see it. I’d maybe feel a little cheated if next year she does 60 dates at a theatre near you for £50 a head. But most of me thinks this is something that should be shared widely, and that I’d be there sitting alongside you if that happens.

To close, I’d make two points. Famously “the KB Foundation” had requested that no-one filmed or took photos – and as far as I could see, no-one did – such is the respect that fans have for the lady.

Secondly, everyone seemed to leave the gig smiling, and perhaps shaking their head a little in wonderment. And, you know what? I'm still smiling now.

A Man's a Man for a' that

As I said yesterday, I think Scottish independence is a terrible idea for Scotland.

By inclination I am not a nationalist. I look at the world and I see people. And people need to band together to do things that an individual cannot do. Once that would be catching prey. Later it became building a temple big enough to please the gods who were going to guarantee the rains or the sun. And, normally, the bigger the challenge, the more people need to get together to solve it. Small groupings can make for small thinking. Parochial thinking. Selfish thinking.

And we have come to accept that. It took two brothers to build the first aeroplane. It took the American government 65 years later to put a man on the moon.

And, by the way, this doesn't make me some sort of state-ist either. Just because we all need to act together for somethings doesn't mean the government needs to do everything. That way lies Albania in the 1980s, and you don't want to go there. John Major, bless his grey nylon Y-fronts talked about 'Subsidiarity'. A horrid word, but the idea was that the best level at which to take decisions is the lowest one at which the decision can appropriately be taken.

As I write today, September 15th 2014, this country has got some big issues. And so has Europe, and so has the world. The UK can't solve its problems on its own. Why not? Because they are global problems. Caused by the interconnectedness of banks, economies etc (This isn't an anti-globalisation rant at all. That isn't what I am trying to do.) The UK can't put up trade barriers to the outside world. Legally - it can't. But even if it did, we'd end up with much more expensive imports. And we import a lot of what we all rely upon. So it would be a stupid thing to do. Europe can't solve its economic crisis if policies elsewhere undermine its strategy.

So, how can it be right, with problems of population aging, deficits, big infrastructure weaknesses, big unemployment issues, climate change etc etc etc, to go back to your village, build a stockade and forget about the rest of the world? The mammoths aren't there anymore.

And that is what Scotland is in danger of doing. If Independent Scotland tries to tax itself out of its problems it will see capital flying South like crazy. It can't borrow if it doesn't have currency as security so it's hard to see how it can inflate out of where it is (though I'd have my doubts about that anyway - look how well Quantitative Easing has worked). So what - cut services?

Yes there are things that could be decided at a Scottish level. But if they can be devolved there, why not further? Do the crofters of the Western Isles share much interest with the city dwellers of Edinburgh? This applies everywhere. Put power down to the local levels where you can. Restore the power of counties (or regions in Scotland). Bring back incentives to put real jobs into the areas that need them. Not government jobs - jobs that make things and add wealth. But to run a proper railway, that joins up in terms of track and pricing, you need to do it centrally for a network - so in practice that means Great Britain. As for Defence, and for Health and so on.

So the Yes campaign is economically wrong. Wrong for Scotland. This is not an English "please stay" message. Yes would be wrong for the Scottish people. And sadly, so is what the UK main parties are now proposing in the event of a 'No'. The Devo-max proposals will guarantee Scotland's dependence on the UK for money, and from the look of them gives them little else. A few sparkly beads in return for a Trident base. But at least in that, and perhaps however they vote they will just be like the rest of the UK - poorly served by a government that fewer and fewer bother each time to elect.

So that's the economics. The head. But isn't it all about the heart? Isn't nationality a blood thing?

I spent much of last night reading Robert Burns. I was looking for my inner Scot. Looking for something that allowed me to embrace 'Yes' despite my massive economic misgivings. Some sense that there could be pride in a modern social democratic nation forging its identity afresh and grasping the challenges of the 21st century.

I found this - if you are interested it's the last verse of the poem usually known as "A Man's a Man for a' that"

Then let us pray that come it may,
(As come it will for a' that,)
That Sense and Worth, o'er a' the earth,
Shall bear the gree, an' a' that.
For a' that, an' a' that,
It's coming yet for a' that,
That Man to Man, the world o'er,
Shall brothers be for a' that.

Brothers - the world over. Sorry Mr Salmond - that'll be a No.

I want to break free

It will be apparent that I survived the flight back from Guernsey, about which I was worrying like an old woman. And I've survived the busy week since. Work dinner Wednesday. Work drinks do Thursday (hosting the great and the good of London litigators who were doing their best to drink the bar dry. Friday and Saturday saw rehearsals and performance of the Verdi Requiem with Crouch End Festival Chorus. It seemed to go pretty well and I am very pleased I did it - for North Londoners they are quite a decent bunch really.

Today was a lazier morning and then a potter round Greenwich and lunch, before getting back into the gym tonight to deal with the consequences of all the above. So I'm not exactly resting, but I feel happy, busy and invigorated as another week starts.

The week of the independence referendum.

So if you were wondering "how is Ross of Balham" doing*? then now is the time to switch off and do something else - we are going into political territory here.

I don't usually think about the first fourteen months of my life. Not a lot happened. Well, man landed on the moon (or did he**) and such, but for me, whilst I may have learned my first few words, it passed in a bit of a blur to be honest.

But it did pass in Edinburgh. So I am Scot-ish, if not truly hand on heart Scottish, and so I watch the unfolding drama up there with keen interest.

Living in London, which is the centre of news, culture and pretty much everything in the UK it is hard to empathise with Scotland. For years they have been neglected by the UK government, or worse - experimented on (they got the Poll Tax before we did). And this isn't just a Tory thing. Here is a list of all the good things Tony Blair did for Scotland:

1. left after he finished school. 

So given the chance to make your own destiny, after years locked in your rich cousin's attic and rolled out every so often to be belittled, wouldn't you jump at it?

The sentiment is right. But the idea is surely barking mad. Isn't it? Scotland is a small nation, with an ageing population, no significant industrial base, and no stable economic base. Ah, but there is oil, isn't there? Billions of pounds worth of revenue over the next 30 - 50 years.

Every argument I have yet heard for independence consists of one of two points. Oil and 'fuck the English'. And I'm sorry, I don't think that is quite enough to build a nation on. This model shouldn't have had a chance of working. A resounding 'No' was obvious. But as we approach Thursday, I have this horrible feeling that that it is going to be a 'Yes'.

In the next couple of days I'll write again and say what I think Scotland should be doing and how it can set itself up for the best possible future. But it's not a future of the Toad-like Salmond holding crown and sceptre and wrapped in the Saltire.



*Everyone is calling me that now. Its only a Twitter user name which is 100% descriptive and 0% imaginative but when someone you know in real life's parents meet you and that is how your are introduced, AND THEY KNOW WHO YOU ARE you start to realise that Social Media pervades everything now.
** yes, he did. End of. It's not that sort of blog

At first I was afraid...

But I survived at least the outward leg of my trip to Guernsey on the aeroplane with propellers.

Just about to go and do a couple of meetings and have checked into my very pleasant hotel room with a view over the marina and the cruise ships moored outside. Guernsey is experiencing an Indian Summer even if London is not, so I spent a couple of hours wandering around. It's an odd mix - lots of people wandering around picking up their lunch from Boots and M&S, and tourists clutching large cameras sharing the streets.

Generally stuff here looks fairly expensive - guessing that's a combination of 'tourist tax' and the need to import everything except (it seems) milk products and tomatoes. And offshore financiers obviously. And the shops aren't too different to home. A lot of jewellers, but not all high end stuff (tax free?) but St Peter Port is a working town for the locals and it shows it. But every time I've been here before it has rained nonstop, so at least this time I could see some of it. And I've managed so far to avoid hanging onto any funny money - the sort of stuff that makes Scottish currency look substantial.

As mentioned above, a nice hotel - La Fregate - at least bits of which are very old, and which hangs onto the side of a hill, in a way that gives everyone a sea view. I'm not paying for this one, but you know it isn't going to be cheap though.

So, meetings now before drinks and canapes at 6:30. Then I've got the big presentation to the Board first thing. Feeling it will go well, but up to a point these things are always a bit of a job re-interview.  If I foul it up massively, it is likely to be 'career-limiting'. But, for now anyway, the prospect of that is considerably better than that tiny plane waiting for me afterwards. Ah well...

And Gravity wants to bring me down...

This may be my last blog.

No, it's OK. I'm not planning to quit writing just yet. But tomorrow morning I have to get on a perilously small aeroplane and fly to Guernsey, and then Wednesday I have to fly back. We're talking about the sort of tiny little aircraft - with all the substance of a 70's Datsun that looks like it will be torn apart by the lightest gust of wind.

Mr Boeing reputedly said when asked why he chose to fly in a four-engined plane "because there are no eight engined planes." and this pretty much summarises my view on flying - the bigger the better. Little planes where they have to balance the passenger load by weight are unnecessary.

But my options for dealing with this are limited. Someone kindly suggested that in the spirit of this classic, I could chug a couple of whiskies before I got on the plane - but that's not really me. And I don't have any tranquillisers, so it will be eyes closed and take a firm hold of the arm rests.

Of course, as was also pointed out to me, it could get foggy and I could get stuck in Guernsey - which feels like a different sort of terror - you worry about them starting to sing "Summer is icumen in" and burn things.

In other news, I've hit my target weight! I hit it last Wednesday and have been at it since. These means several things:

1. that I have lost over 15 kg since Easter
2. that I feel really good about myself as a result
3. that (my app tells me) I can now happily eat an extra 500 calories a day over what I have been living on. And this is odd, because I don't know quite what to have. A Starbucks muffin every morning probably isn't ideal, but I can't eat another 5 bananas either.

I've still got some toning up to do - not major but a bit, and I really miss it when I don't go to the gym so that will all continue. And the longer term challenge is to get this stabilised and permanent. So I shall be watching my weight like a hawk - and if you think I am slipping, please intervene.

So with that hopefully done, I'll need to find something else to talk to you about. Suspect it is not going to be the royal baby - I feel so sorry for that poor woman and the scrutiny she is permanently under so I shall say no more unless they wish to name it after me.

And I've been threatened with death if I just keep going on about Kate Bush for the next 9 days and 3 hours. And I think they meant it.

So, instead I'm going to write a couple of blogs about Scottish independence. I am Scottish you see - lived the first fourteen months of my life in Edinburgh, so I will be "considered a citizen" by a future independent Scotland. And could sponsor my kids to be one too. Sounds like something worth exploring, at least in blog form. And it may presage a turn back to the longer-term political agenda of some blogs previously, you never know.

Kicking Our Way Through a Golden Gown

As I start to write this it is 6:30 am. I looking out on a morning that certainly looks very autumnal, and conducting an experiment into how much coffee it is going to take to wake me up. The "one-cup hypothesis" has failed but I have high hopes on the two.

This has been the first normal - five day working week for a while with a couple of late work ones thrown in. Plus a couple of late non-work ones. OK, it would be easier to say I haven't got to bed at a sensible hour since Sunday.

I've changed my morning routine a little. As anyone who goes anywhere in the morning will be aware, kids are back to school. And most of them seem to be getting my train. I've tended to get the same train for about the last 3 and a half years. At the beginning there were maybe four or five kids getting the train to the private schools out South of Croydon. Now it is maybe 30 from Balham, with another 30 or so already on the train from the stops before.

This shows something about the area - it's one that is impossible for normal people to buy a house in (if you can afford £18k per year out of taxed income for each of your kids to go to school - which is a salary cost of nearly £70k just on education if you are going to send both Oliver and Sophia, then you are not "normal people"). But this isn't (today) a moan about the increased bankerisation of Balham. It's simply a comment that I've changed to a slower train where I have my choice of seats, and a pleasant-enough ten minute to the office at the end of it.

And it looks like another busy week ahead. I'm doing the Verdi Requiem with Crouch End Festival Chorus and the gig is Saturday 13th. So a rehearsal for that first thing tomorrow. Ukulele to restore the balance Sunday, and then I am off to Guernsey (working) for a couple of days next week, back to host a work drinks party - deep joy - Thursday and then two days of Verdi before the gig. So I think tonight and Monday is it in terms of free time for a while. And obviously I need to go to the gym on those to counter the excesses of all the other things. It's good to be busy but right now (at 6:47am) with coffee number 2 failing to make much of an inroad yet) I'm thinking maybe not this busy.

It has all felt rather easy in the nice summer weather. Easy to get out and about, just looking out the window makes you smile. I normally really like autumn, but I do wonder how that is going to be, when it gets cold and dark by the time I am home from work. Maybe I'm a little anxious about that right now.
_____

Right - two hours on, in the office and just posting this I saw the following story.

And in sad closing news, the BBC reported that the space sex geckos have died. I'm sure all our hearts go out to the plucky little fellows. I hope that, following their inevitable dissection and prodding about, that they will be given the send-off so deserved by such pioneers.