Link to one of favourite contemporary photographers exhibiting her work on the "Flickr" photoshare site.
This tribute to Magritte is particularly interesting. Follow the profile to see other examples:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/48759603@N00/213106136/
Saturday, August 12, 2006
Back in business
After months of "resting" I feel inspired to start posting again. I intend to write less about my office- that is a stable environment, you could say boring, so there is not too much to say.
I plan to write more about from a London point of view on events that influence me in London and my thoughts on the rest of the world.
I have also just installed a basic stat-counter which will hopefully give me some idea if this is of interest to anyone !
Credit to Stat counter for their free service in this http://www.statcounter.com/
I plan to write more about from a London point of view on events that influence me in London and my thoughts on the rest of the world.
I have also just installed a basic stat-counter which will hopefully give me some idea if this is of interest to anyone !
Credit to Stat counter for their free service in this http://www.statcounter.com/
Friday, August 11, 2006
Please don't say 10/8!
The London press has unsurprisingly been full of the alleged attempt to blow up 10 trans-Atlantic flights using a combination of Lucozade, hair gel and mobile phones.
It sounds far-fetched but a quick "Google" reveals a whole cook book of Liquid explosive recipes. A lot of the mixtures don't require particularly exotic ingredients, just knowledge of how to mix them in the right proportions and an ability to detonate them. In short, an attempt by a group willing to die probably could be carried out without the need for weapons, conventional explosives or anything else that might be detected by x-rays or metal detectors. In corporate-speak this is called thinking "outside the box" to get a solution. I remember my own boyhood attempts to manufacture chlorine gas in my bedroom using salt water and large batteries attached to charcoal sticks to enable electrolysis of the solution. At a low level I did succeed although I was never able to store the gas successfully! Maybe that was just me ?! However it's probably all to the good that chemistry is so badly taught in most schools in this country.
It's obviously good that this was prevented and full credit to the Police and security services for this. It is also good for the Labour Government's most professional minister, Dr. John Reid who presided over this success.
But please don't establish 10/8 into the vocabulary as the Independent newspaper rather embarrassingly tried to do on its front page today. Thankfully nothing happened. This was a non-event. There was never any intention to carry out the attack on 10/8 but maybe in a few days.
9/11 is accepted into the vocabulary- it is an Americanism but understandable that it became so infamous as a date. Then came the attempt to name the 2004 Madrid attacks, 3/11 (11 March). This never really caught on. 7/7 became accepted in London due to its symmetry. That's probably enough numbers. Thankfully nothing happened on 10/8 (apart from the ongoing wars around the world). So please don't use 10/8 * anyone. Each of the actual attacks has been a tragic event for those involved but don't need reducing to a collection of numbers like some kind of psychotic bingo. It's even worse to start introducing numbers where nothing actually happened. As Ali-G once said on a visit to New York, "Nuff sadness 'bout 7-11"…..
* Strictly speaking it should be 8/10 if we keep to the American date system rather than the English.
It sounds far-fetched but a quick "Google" reveals a whole cook book of Liquid explosive recipes. A lot of the mixtures don't require particularly exotic ingredients, just knowledge of how to mix them in the right proportions and an ability to detonate them. In short, an attempt by a group willing to die probably could be carried out without the need for weapons, conventional explosives or anything else that might be detected by x-rays or metal detectors. In corporate-speak this is called thinking "outside the box" to get a solution. I remember my own boyhood attempts to manufacture chlorine gas in my bedroom using salt water and large batteries attached to charcoal sticks to enable electrolysis of the solution. At a low level I did succeed although I was never able to store the gas successfully! Maybe that was just me ?! However it's probably all to the good that chemistry is so badly taught in most schools in this country.
It's obviously good that this was prevented and full credit to the Police and security services for this. It is also good for the Labour Government's most professional minister, Dr. John Reid who presided over this success.
But please don't establish 10/8 into the vocabulary as the Independent newspaper rather embarrassingly tried to do on its front page today. Thankfully nothing happened. This was a non-event. There was never any intention to carry out the attack on 10/8 but maybe in a few days.
9/11 is accepted into the vocabulary- it is an Americanism but understandable that it became so infamous as a date. Then came the attempt to name the 2004 Madrid attacks, 3/11 (11 March). This never really caught on. 7/7 became accepted in London due to its symmetry. That's probably enough numbers. Thankfully nothing happened on 10/8 (apart from the ongoing wars around the world). So please don't use 10/8 * anyone. Each of the actual attacks has been a tragic event for those involved but don't need reducing to a collection of numbers like some kind of psychotic bingo. It's even worse to start introducing numbers where nothing actually happened. As Ali-G once said on a visit to New York, "Nuff sadness 'bout 7-11"…..
* Strictly speaking it should be 8/10 if we keep to the American date system rather than the English.
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
Ask not for whom the cake is baked; it is baked for thee
In my office, as in thousands of others across London, the birthdays of colleagues are marked by them buying cakes for the rest of us.
The normal format is an email comes out along the lines of "It is my birthday today- boo hoo another year has passed- there are cakes in the kitchen/at "Sharon's" desk- better get there quick before Kevin eats them all- ho ho".
A couple of these emails recently caused me to think about my own expiring years. First a reaction to an email that warned me that not only I'm getting older but also I'm turning into Ebeneezer Scrooge ! An email came out last week from a guy about his birthday and cakes. Before I knew it, the email had disappeared. All I knew was it was from someone in another team I didn't really know but as a reflex reaction I had deleted it. I then realised that even if I wanted to, I couldn't get a cake and I couldn't wish him a happy birthday as I had destroyed the record of whose birthday it was (very efficiently by emptying my "trash bin" too). Both were unlikely to have happened on a busy day in the office but what was alarming was I had internalised a kind of SPAM filter in my brain. I didn't know this guy, it was just another birthday so without pausing for conscious thought his email was binned. Well, call me Ebeneezer !
The second event was a simpler message but more stark- I am getting old. Not all at once but slowly and irreversibly. An email came out from this secretary who works near me. I thought she was quite young but was briefly shocked when I read she had just celebrated her 18th birthday. 18th ? When it was my 18th, she was 5. No one had heard of Al quaida. John Major was Prime Minister of the UK and Tony Blair hadn't yet become Labour leader. Princess Diana was still alive and even officially married to Prince Charles. Now I realise that wasn't a lifetime ago but a lot has changed in 12 or 13 years and those that were once 5 year olds now handle the phone calls and admin in my office. I am still quite young, relative to the general population of the UK but already there's a whole generation younger than me who have their own identity. Scary- time is going fast.
Lastly at the other end of the spectrum the 90th anniversary of the Somme battle in July was marked by a ceremony attended by WW1 veteran Henry Allingham, aged 110. He appeared on TV at the ceremony in summer heat of the French countryside. Now, there's somebody who has had to handle the emergence of quite a few new generations underneath him. Now he's the only one of his generation left. What would it be like to live so long that every one of your friends died from either old age or other causes ? To be the final survivor of a generation ?
That train you took this morning contained several hundred people. At one point no one who was on that train was born and at another point no one will be left alive. Henry Allingham is the last passenger on his train. He was a soldier at a time when Britian still had an empire and Russia still had a Czar. He lived from that time all the way to the present day.
Henry Allingham has seen generations come and go and still himself remain, for now at least. Yet the cakes keep coming faster; so fast already that I delete their announcements without thinking. But I suppose I should be thankful that there are cakes. Even the cakes will stop one day. In the meantime we all live with the fact we are getting older- ask not for whom the cake is baked; it is baked for thee !
The normal format is an email comes out along the lines of "It is my birthday today- boo hoo another year has passed- there are cakes in the kitchen/at "Sharon's" desk- better get there quick before Kevin eats them all- ho ho".
A couple of these emails recently caused me to think about my own expiring years. First a reaction to an email that warned me that not only I'm getting older but also I'm turning into Ebeneezer Scrooge ! An email came out last week from a guy about his birthday and cakes. Before I knew it, the email had disappeared. All I knew was it was from someone in another team I didn't really know but as a reflex reaction I had deleted it. I then realised that even if I wanted to, I couldn't get a cake and I couldn't wish him a happy birthday as I had destroyed the record of whose birthday it was (very efficiently by emptying my "trash bin" too). Both were unlikely to have happened on a busy day in the office but what was alarming was I had internalised a kind of SPAM filter in my brain. I didn't know this guy, it was just another birthday so without pausing for conscious thought his email was binned. Well, call me Ebeneezer !
The second event was a simpler message but more stark- I am getting old. Not all at once but slowly and irreversibly. An email came out from this secretary who works near me. I thought she was quite young but was briefly shocked when I read she had just celebrated her 18th birthday. 18th ? When it was my 18th, she was 5. No one had heard of Al quaida. John Major was Prime Minister of the UK and Tony Blair hadn't yet become Labour leader. Princess Diana was still alive and even officially married to Prince Charles. Now I realise that wasn't a lifetime ago but a lot has changed in 12 or 13 years and those that were once 5 year olds now handle the phone calls and admin in my office. I am still quite young, relative to the general population of the UK but already there's a whole generation younger than me who have their own identity. Scary- time is going fast.
Lastly at the other end of the spectrum the 90th anniversary of the Somme battle in July was marked by a ceremony attended by WW1 veteran Henry Allingham, aged 110. He appeared on TV at the ceremony in summer heat of the French countryside. Now, there's somebody who has had to handle the emergence of quite a few new generations underneath him. Now he's the only one of his generation left. What would it be like to live so long that every one of your friends died from either old age or other causes ? To be the final survivor of a generation ?
That train you took this morning contained several hundred people. At one point no one who was on that train was born and at another point no one will be left alive. Henry Allingham is the last passenger on his train. He was a soldier at a time when Britian still had an empire and Russia still had a Czar. He lived from that time all the way to the present day.
Henry Allingham has seen generations come and go and still himself remain, for now at least. Yet the cakes keep coming faster; so fast already that I delete their announcements without thinking. But I suppose I should be thankful that there are cakes. Even the cakes will stop one day. In the meantime we all live with the fact we are getting older- ask not for whom the cake is baked; it is baked for thee !
Friday, April 28, 2006
Haig in Edinburgh
This is EARL HAIG in Edinburgh.
I went there recently and enjoyed the clean air and intellectual atmosphere :-)
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
You know you're having a boring day when..........
you remember Jeremy off "Airport" (one of the first fly on the wall documentaries detailing a day in the life of Heathrow airport) and decide to do a quick "google" while he comes to mind. You're even more bored when you go to Jeremy's home page !
If there's anyone out there interested here is the home page of Jeremy Spake who first became famous for working in an airport......
http://www.jeremyspake.com/
If there's anyone out there interested here is the home page of Jeremy Spake who first became famous for working in an airport......
http://www.jeremyspake.com/
Grass Eaters of the World unite !
Today I took part in the appraisal of one of my "team". I say "took part" as in my current job I am the Gordon Brown to a much older Tony Blair. The analogy doesn't really work as my boss, who I am due to take over from next year, and I get on fine. Also he's around 30 years older than me. The final flaw in the analogy is that our realm extends to a small part of the finance team in a law firm. Neither of us is Prime Minister of anything.
The "appraisee" was a 46 year old man called Barry. He's worked in the firm over 20 years and is understandably rather cynical about his place in the firm and probably the world in general. Nonetheless Barry has a heart under his cynical exterior and it was actually quite a relaxed occasion. No one was pretending the appraisal was a particularly serious event. After all appraisals are designed by HR departments to show that they have a necessary role. There was none of the tension seen in the hilarious episode of "the Office" when David Brent appraised Big Keith who listed one of his personal qualities as "accounts".
Barry is a good worker despite his cynicism so there wasn't really much to say. However there is one project he has been given that is not very clear. It has been given to him from "on high" and relates to something obscure like changing the way we classify our clients. It's tiresome stuff and Barry has been given the job without clear directions. John (aka Tony Blair) concluded "Barry- you've been told to go and do the garden but there's no mower, no sheers, no tools at all. All you can do is try and eat some of the grass". With that John let out a laugh that revealed both an Essex accent and 40 years of smoking. At that point the appraisal ended. The joys of "professional" life.
The "appraisee" was a 46 year old man called Barry. He's worked in the firm over 20 years and is understandably rather cynical about his place in the firm and probably the world in general. Nonetheless Barry has a heart under his cynical exterior and it was actually quite a relaxed occasion. No one was pretending the appraisal was a particularly serious event. After all appraisals are designed by HR departments to show that they have a necessary role. There was none of the tension seen in the hilarious episode of "the Office" when David Brent appraised Big Keith who listed one of his personal qualities as "accounts".
Barry is a good worker despite his cynicism so there wasn't really much to say. However there is one project he has been given that is not very clear. It has been given to him from "on high" and relates to something obscure like changing the way we classify our clients. It's tiresome stuff and Barry has been given the job without clear directions. John (aka Tony Blair) concluded "Barry- you've been told to go and do the garden but there's no mower, no sheers, no tools at all. All you can do is try and eat some of the grass". With that John let out a laugh that revealed both an Essex accent and 40 years of smoking. At that point the appraisal ended. The joys of "professional" life.
Friday, March 31, 2006
Darwin's Light Railway
Every day, I travel on the DLR* into work.
I've taken it for almost a year now. When I started, my conception was of a smart clean little railway delivering well behaved yuppies to their corporate towers in Canary Wharf and beyond.
However a year is a long time in London's public transport system and the veneer of civilisation has worn thin. There is little civilisation on the DLR. It is a brutal world where Darwin's theories on the survival of the fittest seem to be played out in daily dramas.
This week I was horrified to watch a heavily pregnant woman forced to stand for 6 stops. The train was fullish and people were either too blind (physically or mentally) to notice her or genuinely couldn't care less.. I was standing in the middle of the carriage some way away. She seemed to be visibly feeling the strain and none of those seated wanted to budge. In 2006 we are not supposed to "judge" anyone. We are the "Vicky Pollard generation" shouting "don't judge me" when anyone criticises us. Only the media can judge and only after they have judged are the rest of us free to give an opinion. Judging is disliked because we know from experience (at least 2000 years' experience) that the judger is not perfect themselves. "Let him who is without sin cast the first stone" perfectly sums up the root of this view. Well I am as flawed as the next person, but to those who sit dumbly on the DLR while the vulnerable are forced to stand I say "shame on you, shame on you, shame on you, you dumb yuppie brutes".
While I am on the subject on the DLR my other gripes are:
1) Despite its reliability being rated in Mayor Ken's propaganda rags as remarkably high- well into the 90 %s, it is NOT reliable. Breakdowns of some description seem to occur weekly now.
2) It is horribly crowded. In terms of discomfort a morning DLR trip can give the Jubilee line a run for its money any day.
3) In late evening (Friday especially) people treat it as an extension of their front room. Revolting food smells waft along the carriage. Despite the fact a hundred hands have held the supporting bars during the day; people still hold the bar and then pick up a burger that they chew happily.
4) People don't open windows. The air is incredibly stale and its all to easy to pick up a bug on the train.
5) Being of near average height myself, I find tall people a problem in crowded situations. Squeezed together like sardines in a can a tall person cannot help but breathe down on those around. Feeling "nasal blasts" of air on the back of your neck for 15 minutes is not pleasant. Difficult to suggest any practical and humane solutions to this one……
6) General common garden public transport hazards occur on the DLR as elsewhere. These include loud mobile calls, people travelling when they are in the middle of a bad cold or flu (is your job really that important that they can't manage without you?) and breaking wind (you know who you are).
So to those who have not travelled on the DLR and see it as some modern skytrain taking civilised commuters to their high towers in a new city, I have one thing to say- you are not missing much. It is as wild, as unreliable and as unhealthy as the rest of London's public transport. The average wage of its commuters may be a little higher but their behaviour in such circumstances is no better.
This is Darwin's railway where the strong prevail and the weak are in danger. Of course many of those people who sit while the vulnerable stand have done good things in their life. They will continue to do so. Yet when grouped together in public transport, an element of their humanity dies. Darwin would be pleased- we are supposed to be descended from Apes and on the DLR you begin to see the family resemblance.
Lastly, to those of you sitting smugly on the DLR and tutting into your Metro newspapers at the misdeeds of Slobodan Milosevic or some other media monster, I ask you to do one thing- look up and see if any one else needs your seat more than you do. If you don't do this, never mind the "Butcher of Belgrade", you're turning into the "Beast of Beckton"
* For those of you "out of town" the DLR is the Docklands Light Railway that links Central London to the newly developing areas of Docklands and beyond.
I've taken it for almost a year now. When I started, my conception was of a smart clean little railway delivering well behaved yuppies to their corporate towers in Canary Wharf and beyond.
However a year is a long time in London's public transport system and the veneer of civilisation has worn thin. There is little civilisation on the DLR. It is a brutal world where Darwin's theories on the survival of the fittest seem to be played out in daily dramas.
This week I was horrified to watch a heavily pregnant woman forced to stand for 6 stops. The train was fullish and people were either too blind (physically or mentally) to notice her or genuinely couldn't care less.. I was standing in the middle of the carriage some way away. She seemed to be visibly feeling the strain and none of those seated wanted to budge. In 2006 we are not supposed to "judge" anyone. We are the "Vicky Pollard generation" shouting "don't judge me" when anyone criticises us. Only the media can judge and only after they have judged are the rest of us free to give an opinion. Judging is disliked because we know from experience (at least 2000 years' experience) that the judger is not perfect themselves. "Let him who is without sin cast the first stone" perfectly sums up the root of this view. Well I am as flawed as the next person, but to those who sit dumbly on the DLR while the vulnerable are forced to stand I say "shame on you, shame on you, shame on you, you dumb yuppie brutes".
While I am on the subject on the DLR my other gripes are:
1) Despite its reliability being rated in Mayor Ken's propaganda rags as remarkably high- well into the 90 %s, it is NOT reliable. Breakdowns of some description seem to occur weekly now.
2) It is horribly crowded. In terms of discomfort a morning DLR trip can give the Jubilee line a run for its money any day.
3) In late evening (Friday especially) people treat it as an extension of their front room. Revolting food smells waft along the carriage. Despite the fact a hundred hands have held the supporting bars during the day; people still hold the bar and then pick up a burger that they chew happily.
4) People don't open windows. The air is incredibly stale and its all to easy to pick up a bug on the train.
5) Being of near average height myself, I find tall people a problem in crowded situations. Squeezed together like sardines in a can a tall person cannot help but breathe down on those around. Feeling "nasal blasts" of air on the back of your neck for 15 minutes is not pleasant. Difficult to suggest any practical and humane solutions to this one……
6) General common garden public transport hazards occur on the DLR as elsewhere. These include loud mobile calls, people travelling when they are in the middle of a bad cold or flu (is your job really that important that they can't manage without you?) and breaking wind (you know who you are).
So to those who have not travelled on the DLR and see it as some modern skytrain taking civilised commuters to their high towers in a new city, I have one thing to say- you are not missing much. It is as wild, as unreliable and as unhealthy as the rest of London's public transport. The average wage of its commuters may be a little higher but their behaviour in such circumstances is no better.
This is Darwin's railway where the strong prevail and the weak are in danger. Of course many of those people who sit while the vulnerable stand have done good things in their life. They will continue to do so. Yet when grouped together in public transport, an element of their humanity dies. Darwin would be pleased- we are supposed to be descended from Apes and on the DLR you begin to see the family resemblance.
Lastly, to those of you sitting smugly on the DLR and tutting into your Metro newspapers at the misdeeds of Slobodan Milosevic or some other media monster, I ask you to do one thing- look up and see if any one else needs your seat more than you do. If you don't do this, never mind the "Butcher of Belgrade", you're turning into the "Beast of Beckton"
* For those of you "out of town" the DLR is the Docklands Light Railway that links Central London to the newly developing areas of Docklands and beyond.
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
Accounting for Life
Link to a moving tale of the life and death of Eugene O'Kelly, CEO of one of the "Big 4" accountancy firms.
http://www.timesonline.co.uk/article/0,,8123-2083997_1,00.html
Having trained as an accountant myself I have heard all the jokes, but this man achieved a rare combination- professional success followed by a real undestanding of life.
The irony is that understanding of life is only reached in the face of death. The unanswered question is did his devotion to career delay his understanding of life ? As someone given to cynism about "careers" as distinct from "lives", I actually don't believe he wasted his life. He achieved what he wanted to do and then at the end understood more than many others ever do.
If he had been a professor of philosophy, a cafe waiter or sold souvenirs on the beach he may or may not have gained this understanding earlier or not at all.
But business and life do differ in one way- there's no accounting for life.
RIP Eugene O'Kelly
http://www.timesonline.co.uk/article/0,,8123-2083997_1,00.html
Having trained as an accountant myself I have heard all the jokes, but this man achieved a rare combination- professional success followed by a real undestanding of life.
The irony is that understanding of life is only reached in the face of death. The unanswered question is did his devotion to career delay his understanding of life ? As someone given to cynism about "careers" as distinct from "lives", I actually don't believe he wasted his life. He achieved what he wanted to do and then at the end understood more than many others ever do.
If he had been a professor of philosophy, a cafe waiter or sold souvenirs on the beach he may or may not have gained this understanding earlier or not at all.
But business and life do differ in one way- there's no accounting for life.
RIP Eugene O'Kelly
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
Canadian Cafe
To all those who have worked for a bad boss- here is some inspiration from Canada.
http://www.beyondrobson.com/city/2006/02/mutiny_at_the_cafe/
Made me smile anyway..................
http://www.beyondrobson.com/city/2006/02/mutiny_at_the_cafe/
Made me smile anyway..................
Monday, February 20, 2006
No accounting for comedy
Having been in my new job for a few weeks, my boss suggested I do a short presentation at our group quarterly meeting. The subject matter was to be myself (an introduction), internal audit and "a couple of funny stories from your previous roles". "Let them see the real Luis" he said later.
I don't think his reference to the "real Luis" was intended as an opportunity for anything too philosophical. "Who am I ?" may have got a bemused response from 70 accounts staff.
Instead I settled for a couple of "jokey" stories from my last job including the question from my historically-challenged former boss when we were given a tour of Frankfurt one evening. Heinrich, a forceful balding German showed us some ruins fenced off in the city centre. Tours of ruins might be considered a risky area in British/German relations. But dear old lady-boss charged ahead foot in mouth, brain in neutral. "Are these Roman?" she asked in her screechy northern accent. "No" boomed Heinrich. "These were left by the American and British bombers". This story was easy humour and got a laugh. I didn't mention to the accounts gathering that she topped off the evening by claiming to be unaware of the existence of Goethe when we were shown Gothestrasse. "You know Goethe (?)" asked Heinrich more in statement than question. Lady boss looked confused for a moment. "No, what's that ?" she said blissfully ignorant to the end. Heinrich smiled to himself certain of German superiority. Not for the first time Lady boss did not lead me to feelings of national or any particular pride.
Anyway I said something "sensible" about the role of internal audit and the couple of stories that barely broke any of the assembled audience out of their comas (i was fifth out of nine in presentors.).
Proceedings were kicked off by my new boss who told us how well "the firm" was doing financially. His own attempt at comedy was to go for the bawdy. He'd recently visited our Asian offices. "I met up with Howard (financial big wig) in Shanghai" he digressed. "We only managed to get propositioned once". There was a weariness to the statement, scratching for humour in a dull meeting rather than accept it was dull. The only real humour was unscripted. Barry, a 30-a day Essex-smoker in his 50's who I work with bellowed "And ?" from the back of the room laughing at his own joke with a wheezy laugh that can only be obtained with 40 years of tobacco smoke.
There was no more and the meeting continued with dull efficiency, the comic attempts barely noticed. Comedy in accountancy is comic only in that it fails and it is probably a lost cause. There's no accounting for that........
I don't think his reference to the "real Luis" was intended as an opportunity for anything too philosophical. "Who am I ?" may have got a bemused response from 70 accounts staff.
Instead I settled for a couple of "jokey" stories from my last job including the question from my historically-challenged former boss when we were given a tour of Frankfurt one evening. Heinrich, a forceful balding German showed us some ruins fenced off in the city centre. Tours of ruins might be considered a risky area in British/German relations. But dear old lady-boss charged ahead foot in mouth, brain in neutral. "Are these Roman?" she asked in her screechy northern accent. "No" boomed Heinrich. "These were left by the American and British bombers". This story was easy humour and got a laugh. I didn't mention to the accounts gathering that she topped off the evening by claiming to be unaware of the existence of Goethe when we were shown Gothestrasse. "You know Goethe (?)" asked Heinrich more in statement than question. Lady boss looked confused for a moment. "No, what's that ?" she said blissfully ignorant to the end. Heinrich smiled to himself certain of German superiority. Not for the first time Lady boss did not lead me to feelings of national or any particular pride.
Anyway I said something "sensible" about the role of internal audit and the couple of stories that barely broke any of the assembled audience out of their comas (i was fifth out of nine in presentors.).
Proceedings were kicked off by my new boss who told us how well "the firm" was doing financially. His own attempt at comedy was to go for the bawdy. He'd recently visited our Asian offices. "I met up with Howard (financial big wig) in Shanghai" he digressed. "We only managed to get propositioned once". There was a weariness to the statement, scratching for humour in a dull meeting rather than accept it was dull. The only real humour was unscripted. Barry, a 30-a day Essex-smoker in his 50's who I work with bellowed "And ?" from the back of the room laughing at his own joke with a wheezy laugh that can only be obtained with 40 years of tobacco smoke.
There was no more and the meeting continued with dull efficiency, the comic attempts barely noticed. Comedy in accountancy is comic only in that it fails and it is probably a lost cause. There's no accounting for that........
Thursday, February 02, 2006
Land of the Free Infidels ?
The Muslim world has a new demon. The mighty US with its military, its control of oil and its dominant culture is still there.
But today there is a new bad nation on the block whose flags are burned from the West Bank to Baghdad. Little Denmark is the culprit.
The "crime" of this nation is for one of its newspapers to have published some satirical cartoons on the Prophet Mohammed last September. Quite why it has become such an issue 5 months later is a bit of a mystery.
However yesterday papers in at least Germany, Spain, Italy and Switzerland republished these cartoons as the story grew. The chief editor of the French tabloid "France Soir" was sacked by its Egyptian owner.
In London there seems little danger that an organisation as politically correct as the BBC would show them- certainly there is no sign on their website. It seems doubtful that the papers will show the cartoons either. Maybe "the Sun" will do so but probably its owner Rupert Murdoch has some contract in Indonesia to consider.
Of course the cartoons are likely to offend muslims. But are we to end all humour, satire and parody for want of offending one group or another? Christians are routinely the subject of jokes and while the Iranian leader calls for the destruction of Israel, all the great powers still negotiate with him. There is no burning of Iranian flags anywhere that I am aware of.
Yet this little Scandinavian country is now demonised and Danish food is thrown off the shelves of Cairo's supermarkets. Will some lunatic soon blow himself up in Copenhagen ?
If the Prophet was really as great as the muslims say he was then I am sure he will be unaffected by the immature jibes of a few Danes. Personally I respect Muslims and have no wish to offend them. However there should still be freedom to speak, to write and this case, to draw. That a French newspaper editor is sacked for publishing a cartoon is a sad day in the land that once gave birth to Voltaire (" I DISSAPROVE OF WHAT YOU SAY, BUT I WILL DEFEND TO THE DEATH YOUR RIGHT TO SAY IT!")
Europe may choose to bow to this tantrum by a few of the muslims of the world and make embarrassing (and insincere) apologies. However I hope it shows that that it stays true to its Enlightenment roots and defends the Danish cartoonists. Offensive they may be, but as non-muslims why should Danes be forced to observe Muslim rules (against depicting the Prophet) in their own country ? To the eyes of Muslims, Danes are "infidels", but they should be left free to act as infidels. If they are wrong in what they do they should only be answerable to God and not some Kalashnikov-waving hothead in the Middle East.
http://www.welt.de/data/2006/02/01/839671.html Link- Germany still has free speech at least. Click on Die umstrittenen Karikaturen on Die Welt site to see cartoons.
But today there is a new bad nation on the block whose flags are burned from the West Bank to Baghdad. Little Denmark is the culprit.
The "crime" of this nation is for one of its newspapers to have published some satirical cartoons on the Prophet Mohammed last September. Quite why it has become such an issue 5 months later is a bit of a mystery.
However yesterday papers in at least Germany, Spain, Italy and Switzerland republished these cartoons as the story grew. The chief editor of the French tabloid "France Soir" was sacked by its Egyptian owner.
In London there seems little danger that an organisation as politically correct as the BBC would show them- certainly there is no sign on their website. It seems doubtful that the papers will show the cartoons either. Maybe "the Sun" will do so but probably its owner Rupert Murdoch has some contract in Indonesia to consider.
Of course the cartoons are likely to offend muslims. But are we to end all humour, satire and parody for want of offending one group or another? Christians are routinely the subject of jokes and while the Iranian leader calls for the destruction of Israel, all the great powers still negotiate with him. There is no burning of Iranian flags anywhere that I am aware of.
Yet this little Scandinavian country is now demonised and Danish food is thrown off the shelves of Cairo's supermarkets. Will some lunatic soon blow himself up in Copenhagen ?
If the Prophet was really as great as the muslims say he was then I am sure he will be unaffected by the immature jibes of a few Danes. Personally I respect Muslims and have no wish to offend them. However there should still be freedom to speak, to write and this case, to draw. That a French newspaper editor is sacked for publishing a cartoon is a sad day in the land that once gave birth to Voltaire (" I DISSAPROVE OF WHAT YOU SAY, BUT I WILL DEFEND TO THE DEATH YOUR RIGHT TO SAY IT!")
Europe may choose to bow to this tantrum by a few of the muslims of the world and make embarrassing (and insincere) apologies. However I hope it shows that that it stays true to its Enlightenment roots and defends the Danish cartoonists. Offensive they may be, but as non-muslims why should Danes be forced to observe Muslim rules (against depicting the Prophet) in their own country ? To the eyes of Muslims, Danes are "infidels", but they should be left free to act as infidels. If they are wrong in what they do they should only be answerable to God and not some Kalashnikov-waving hothead in the Middle East.
http://www.welt.de/data/2006/02/01/839671.html Link- Germany still has free speech at least. Click on Die umstrittenen Karikaturen on Die Welt site to see cartoons.
Thursday, January 26, 2006
UK Theme
BBC Radio 4's controller is proposing to axe the daily UK theme at 5.30 am when Radio 4 switches from World Service output to Radio 4's daily schedule.The news has been greeted with outrage by many Radio 4 listeners. The UK theme is a collection of national tunes from all parts of the UK and Ireland. It is an uplifting piece of music for those who must get up at that time for whatever reason.
The decision to replace it with just a news bulletin is completely unnecessary. News is covered amply on radio 4 as it is with 3 solid hours of new starting at 6am.
The decision undermines the character of Radio 4 and smacks of embarrassment at being British by the controller. The irony being that the composer of this was originally Austrian. The theme has been used for 33 years yet for some reason must now be replaced with a dull bulletin of news.
Polls appear to suggest that the great majority of listeners want the theme to stay. Will the BBC listen to its listeners? Time will tell…………….
Sign the online petition if you can http://savetheradio4theme.co.uk/index.htm
The decision to replace it with just a news bulletin is completely unnecessary. News is covered amply on radio 4 as it is with 3 solid hours of new starting at 6am.
The decision undermines the character of Radio 4 and smacks of embarrassment at being British by the controller. The irony being that the composer of this was originally Austrian. The theme has been used for 33 years yet for some reason must now be replaced with a dull bulletin of news.
Polls appear to suggest that the great majority of listeners want the theme to stay. Will the BBC listen to its listeners? Time will tell…………….
Sign the online petition if you can http://savetheradio4theme.co.uk/index.htm
Death of the Seaborne Ambassador
First of all a belated Happy New Year ! I am still alive, just in a new office doing a job where I actually have some work to do or more importantly am motivated to do some work.
More about the new office will follow. First of all, almost a week after a whale came into the centre of London I would like to salute this ambassador from the sea.
Since the whale sadly died last Saturday, a bit of a circus has followed. A watering can used to keep the whale's skin wet on it's boat trip was auctioned on ebay for entirely sincere reasons in order to raise money for the sea mammal rescue charity that helped to try and save the whale. However some of the chancers and jokers that are among the ranks of ebay members deliberately bid spuriously to over £100,000. This proved a hoax and a silly distraction from the original story.
That a whale came into the centre of London for the first time in recorded history is noteworthy enough. The public's reaction with huge interest and concern showed that love of animals is alive and well in Britain. More importantly this unique event reminds me how the environment is under threat across the globe and strange things may happen as a result.
Over fishing and pollution are well documented as having disastrous effects on the world's ocean. Last week one of the ocean's inhabitants came to the centre of London, even going past parliament. It was as if this young whale was on a protest or maybe even a warning mission that what we do in our cities ultimately effects the oceans and of course what happens in the oceans will one day effect our cities.
The whale's visit was a moving tale- one where concern and good intention were demonstrated but ultimately failed. Yet if some people are more motivated to try and help the oceans of the world and the environment in general, then maybe the London visit and death of this whale will not have been in vain. Thank you for visiting us ambassador! I don't think your death will have been in vain.
More about the new office will follow. First of all, almost a week after a whale came into the centre of London I would like to salute this ambassador from the sea.
Since the whale sadly died last Saturday, a bit of a circus has followed. A watering can used to keep the whale's skin wet on it's boat trip was auctioned on ebay for entirely sincere reasons in order to raise money for the sea mammal rescue charity that helped to try and save the whale. However some of the chancers and jokers that are among the ranks of ebay members deliberately bid spuriously to over £100,000. This proved a hoax and a silly distraction from the original story.
That a whale came into the centre of London for the first time in recorded history is noteworthy enough. The public's reaction with huge interest and concern showed that love of animals is alive and well in Britain. More importantly this unique event reminds me how the environment is under threat across the globe and strange things may happen as a result.
Over fishing and pollution are well documented as having disastrous effects on the world's ocean. Last week one of the ocean's inhabitants came to the centre of London, even going past parliament. It was as if this young whale was on a protest or maybe even a warning mission that what we do in our cities ultimately effects the oceans and of course what happens in the oceans will one day effect our cities.
The whale's visit was a moving tale- one where concern and good intention were demonstrated but ultimately failed. Yet if some people are more motivated to try and help the oceans of the world and the environment in general, then maybe the London visit and death of this whale will not have been in vain. Thank you for visiting us ambassador! I don't think your death will have been in vain.
Friday, December 16, 2005
Building Brazil
My last day on an audit with my current job. I am sitting in an office in Sao Paulo, Brazil. I spent just a week in this country but it showed me a world that is emerging and a nation that is very likely to be much more powerful and famous than it already is.
A super-power of the twenty-second century ? Possibly.
Brazil has great potential but also has many problems. It’s potential is that it is a young country with a young population. It has a sunny outlook on life but it has a drive that makes it want to be more than just a sun-kissed banana republic.
The people of Brazil are warm and welcoming. This sounds like a cliché but for once it is actually true. They are welcoming to foreigners but also not subservient to the current great powers. Brazil’s attempt to gain partial control of the internet from the US demonstrates a desire that one day it will be a great power also. President Lula’s refusal to roll-over at the WTO talks again shows this nation flexing it muscles.
Yet unlike some nation’s aspiring for greatness, I don’t think the world has anything to fear from a strong Brazil. It has no dangerous idealogy that threatens others. The writing on it’s flag is “Ordem e progresso”. Lula is an unlikely combination. On one hand a former metal worker and leftist. On the other hand the economic reality of Brazil is good. He has lead Brazil to pay off its IMF debts two years early.
My time this week has shown that it is quite difficult to point to a typical Brazilian. The uninitiated may expect a latino character but Brazilians may appear Japanese (the largest community outside Japan), Italian (more Italian descendents in Sao Paulo than current Romans), African, south American Indian, German and many more in addition to the language providing Portuguese.
Our host for this week’s audit was a Japanese Brazilian in his 50s. Let’s call him Pablo and say he’s a live wire, someone with constant curiosity, a comic but also someone good at his job. His job this week was to keep the auditors as happy as possible to soften up any report.
He turned out almost every evening to take us to dinners at barbeques, restaurants and similar.
He was keen for everyone to have as many “Caipirinas” while being mysteriously abstemious himself……
Pablo was no politically correct person himself. He whispered conspiratorially that the owner of a restaurant was “a black man”. He then described an older female member of staff as “fully depreciated”. Yet he conducted himself with such bon homonie that it would be difficult for people to take offence. Unique in my auditing career, I received a relatively serious job offer from Pablo. He knew I was leaving the company but "come and work for me in Brazil" he said. "Just let me know if you change your mind- your always welcome he added".
Brazil still has many poor, universal education is still an ideal not a reality.
Yet it’s spirit is hopeful and lively. This feels a land of opportunity and hope.
On this December summer’s day in Sao Paulo I am not over-excited to be returning to London, it’s safety and security and it’s cold winter. Yet that is where my love is and I want to go to her.
Still it is good to know that if London “burns” there is always a warm welcome to be had in Brazil……………..
A super-power of the twenty-second century ? Possibly.
Brazil has great potential but also has many problems. It’s potential is that it is a young country with a young population. It has a sunny outlook on life but it has a drive that makes it want to be more than just a sun-kissed banana republic.
The people of Brazil are warm and welcoming. This sounds like a cliché but for once it is actually true. They are welcoming to foreigners but also not subservient to the current great powers. Brazil’s attempt to gain partial control of the internet from the US demonstrates a desire that one day it will be a great power also. President Lula’s refusal to roll-over at the WTO talks again shows this nation flexing it muscles.
Yet unlike some nation’s aspiring for greatness, I don’t think the world has anything to fear from a strong Brazil. It has no dangerous idealogy that threatens others. The writing on it’s flag is “Ordem e progresso”. Lula is an unlikely combination. On one hand a former metal worker and leftist. On the other hand the economic reality of Brazil is good. He has lead Brazil to pay off its IMF debts two years early.
My time this week has shown that it is quite difficult to point to a typical Brazilian. The uninitiated may expect a latino character but Brazilians may appear Japanese (the largest community outside Japan), Italian (more Italian descendents in Sao Paulo than current Romans), African, south American Indian, German and many more in addition to the language providing Portuguese.
Our host for this week’s audit was a Japanese Brazilian in his 50s. Let’s call him Pablo and say he’s a live wire, someone with constant curiosity, a comic but also someone good at his job. His job this week was to keep the auditors as happy as possible to soften up any report.
He turned out almost every evening to take us to dinners at barbeques, restaurants and similar.
He was keen for everyone to have as many “Caipirinas” while being mysteriously abstemious himself……
Pablo was no politically correct person himself. He whispered conspiratorially that the owner of a restaurant was “a black man”. He then described an older female member of staff as “fully depreciated”. Yet he conducted himself with such bon homonie that it would be difficult for people to take offence. Unique in my auditing career, I received a relatively serious job offer from Pablo. He knew I was leaving the company but "come and work for me in Brazil" he said. "Just let me know if you change your mind- your always welcome he added".
Brazil still has many poor, universal education is still an ideal not a reality.
Yet it’s spirit is hopeful and lively. This feels a land of opportunity and hope.
On this December summer’s day in Sao Paulo I am not over-excited to be returning to London, it’s safety and security and it’s cold winter. Yet that is where my love is and I want to go to her.
Still it is good to know that if London “burns” there is always a warm welcome to be had in Brazil……………..
Monday, December 05, 2005
Sick man working
Winston, our security guard is back. Last week, he was mysteriously and suddenly taken ill. He became violently sick but felt no stomach or head pain.
Charles, my Treasury colleague, excelled in the crisis. Normally, moving between Treasury screen, MSN Messenger, the web and keeping an eye out for nudes in the hotel opposite, he was transformed to help Winston.
Charles, is the office’s first aid officer. Cynics comment that he only took this for the 4 days out of the office on a training course that it allows. However Charles does take it seriously and given something to do that he feels has purpose, he is a changed man.
Winston was laid out in the first floor offices of a small oil company that shares our office building. Charles attended and when Winston’s symptoms had exhausted Charles’s limited knowledge, they contracted NHS Direct and then an ambulance.
The ambulance took 45 minutes to arrive. Maybe Winston did not sound the most urgent case, although for him and indeed those around him, it was a nasty time. Every move resulted in Winston being sick again.
Then Winston disappeared in an ambulance. I, along with the rest of the office, watched unheroically from the upper floors.
The incident was rather unsettling, if only because it reminded us of our common vulnerability and mortality. Winston, a big Nigerian man in his thirties deteriorated suddenly and for no obvious reason in the course of a couple of hours. He walked into work but left in an ambulance.
Also, the office hierarchy or order was briefly turned upside down. Charles, a not very career orientated, rather hedonistic treasury analyst became the only person who was genuinely willing and able to help in a crisis.
Winston returned today. He looked weak but his company only pays a maximum of three days sick leave to its employees. Winston wanted to come in. His mystery condition was diagnosed as Vertigo. I only knew this as a fear of height or a Hitchcock film. However I learn from Winston that it can also relate to a medical condition where the sense of balance is lost. This caused the unexplained sickness- for him it was like being at sea in a storm or a fairground ride that never stopped.
Winston is back today. He appears to be recovering. For me, it reminds me of our vulnerability and also that the guy who normally letches out of the window at naked women in the hotel may turn out to be the “Good Samaritan”. The rest of us, including me, would do well to not walk by so quickly in future. Next time it could be us suffering Vertigo or other sudden illness.
Charles, my Treasury colleague, excelled in the crisis. Normally, moving between Treasury screen, MSN Messenger, the web and keeping an eye out for nudes in the hotel opposite, he was transformed to help Winston.
Charles, is the office’s first aid officer. Cynics comment that he only took this for the 4 days out of the office on a training course that it allows. However Charles does take it seriously and given something to do that he feels has purpose, he is a changed man.
Winston was laid out in the first floor offices of a small oil company that shares our office building. Charles attended and when Winston’s symptoms had exhausted Charles’s limited knowledge, they contracted NHS Direct and then an ambulance.
The ambulance took 45 minutes to arrive. Maybe Winston did not sound the most urgent case, although for him and indeed those around him, it was a nasty time. Every move resulted in Winston being sick again.
Then Winston disappeared in an ambulance. I, along with the rest of the office, watched unheroically from the upper floors.
The incident was rather unsettling, if only because it reminded us of our common vulnerability and mortality. Winston, a big Nigerian man in his thirties deteriorated suddenly and for no obvious reason in the course of a couple of hours. He walked into work but left in an ambulance.
Also, the office hierarchy or order was briefly turned upside down. Charles, a not very career orientated, rather hedonistic treasury analyst became the only person who was genuinely willing and able to help in a crisis.
Winston returned today. He looked weak but his company only pays a maximum of three days sick leave to its employees. Winston wanted to come in. His mystery condition was diagnosed as Vertigo. I only knew this as a fear of height or a Hitchcock film. However I learn from Winston that it can also relate to a medical condition where the sense of balance is lost. This caused the unexplained sickness- for him it was like being at sea in a storm or a fairground ride that never stopped.
Winston is back today. He appears to be recovering. For me, it reminds me of our vulnerability and also that the guy who normally letches out of the window at naked women in the hotel may turn out to be the “Good Samaritan”. The rest of us, including me, would do well to not walk by so quickly in future. Next time it could be us suffering Vertigo or other sudden illness.
Monday, November 28, 2005
Don't steal the water
We have a Nigerian security guard called Winston. Winston is a friend to all who enter the office building and is always concerned for details such as whether the air conditioning is at the right level for us.
On occassion he has helped me out with spare security passes. He maintains a pile of the morning's Metro newspaper to give out to anyone who wants it. He makes the most of a rather dull job and tries to make life interesting for himself while helping others at the same time. He is an all round good soul and tries to make a small positive difference where he can. If nothing more he is friendly face first thing in the morning.
Yet Winston is not part of the office. He works for an external contractor. He is never invited to formal office events although is rarely excluded from a private leaving drinks when people choose to invite him.
Today he sneaked onto our floor to fill his water bottle from the water dispenser. He asked Charles and me, with a worried face, if Nigel our Purchasing Director was about. Apparently Nigel had complained that Winston shouldn't take our water from the dispensor. As a company we make £50 million a year. Some of our directors seem to think we cannot even afford water for our security guard. Christmas is coming to this company but the spirit of Scrooge still lives......
On occassion he has helped me out with spare security passes. He maintains a pile of the morning's Metro newspaper to give out to anyone who wants it. He makes the most of a rather dull job and tries to make life interesting for himself while helping others at the same time. He is an all round good soul and tries to make a small positive difference where he can. If nothing more he is friendly face first thing in the morning.
Yet Winston is not part of the office. He works for an external contractor. He is never invited to formal office events although is rarely excluded from a private leaving drinks when people choose to invite him.
Today he sneaked onto our floor to fill his water bottle from the water dispenser. He asked Charles and me, with a worried face, if Nigel our Purchasing Director was about. Apparently Nigel had complained that Winston shouldn't take our water from the dispensor. As a company we make £50 million a year. Some of our directors seem to think we cannot even afford water for our security guard. Christmas is coming to this company but the spirit of Scrooge still lives......
Friday, November 18, 2005
100 million 80 year olds
Working for an industrial company, one constant theme is the shutting of production, particularly in Western Europe and moving it East. Firstly this was to Eastern Europe but increasingly the "forward thinkers" take things straight to China.
China offers prime facilities for factories. Land is cheap, planning permission is easy, environmental controls are relaxed and most of all there is a huge supply of low cost and able labour.
However it is worth noting that China is currently in its population prime. There are relatively few elderly and also as a result of the Chinese Government's one child policy, relatively few children.
The "productive working" population is huge and the vulnerable who need care are quite few. However the future is not so certain for China and all those companies rushing out there.
China seems to be sitting on a demographic timebomb. Like all trends in demographics this can be reversed. However if things don't change China's current working population will turn into an army of pensioners. A recent study http://www.csis.org/media/csis/pubs/grayingkingdom.pdf by the Centre for Strategic and International Studies predicts there will be nearly 100 million people aged 80 or over in China by 2050. The working population by then will have shrunk dramatically and the cultural obsession with male children is resulting in a hugely skewed population (120 boys for every 100 girls). China in a few decades may look quite different- full of pensioners as well as some frustrated young men !
Will the western companies who are currently rushing to Shanghai,Bejiing, Guangdong and beyond, be in so much of a hurry to pick up the massive pension burden of today's Chinese workers ?
China offers prime facilities for factories. Land is cheap, planning permission is easy, environmental controls are relaxed and most of all there is a huge supply of low cost and able labour.
However it is worth noting that China is currently in its population prime. There are relatively few elderly and also as a result of the Chinese Government's one child policy, relatively few children.
The "productive working" population is huge and the vulnerable who need care are quite few. However the future is not so certain for China and all those companies rushing out there.
China seems to be sitting on a demographic timebomb. Like all trends in demographics this can be reversed. However if things don't change China's current working population will turn into an army of pensioners. A recent study http://www.csis.org/media/csis/pubs/grayingkingdom.pdf by the Centre for Strategic and International Studies predicts there will be nearly 100 million people aged 80 or over in China by 2050. The working population by then will have shrunk dramatically and the cultural obsession with male children is resulting in a hugely skewed population (120 boys for every 100 girls). China in a few decades may look quite different- full of pensioners as well as some frustrated young men !
Will the western companies who are currently rushing to Shanghai,Bejiing, Guangdong and beyond, be in so much of a hurry to pick up the massive pension burden of today's Chinese workers ?
Wednesday, November 16, 2005
I am leaving the office because................
I will soon be leaving my current office because I am tired of travel.
I am tired of 5am taxis, I am tired of airports, of security checks, of planes, of middle seats on aircraft, of forced small talk with foreign finance directors, of feigning interest in what they have to say, of bad hotels, of good hotels, of bad restaurants, of good restaurants. But most of all I am tired of separation for days or weeks from those who I love and care for. This blog is only about me, my thoughts and my experiences at work, but to understand me in this regard, I should say that I miss by beautiful wife, who I married this year.
I am no use to anyone but my company when I am sitting in a foreign field.
I sometimes deny where I am, shown by my watch that always shows Greenwich Mean Time or British Summer Time regardless of whether I am in the US, Europe or Arabia. I can calculate the local time in my head but my watch, at least, will be forever England.
Counting the hours away is never a healthy condition. Life is too short and precious to wish away yet I know all too well that 5 days is 120 hours, 4 days is 96 hours and so on. On my foreign trips that last a week I know that Wednesday afternoon always marks the second half (the beginning of the end?).
Even my colleague, Latino Lothario, jokes, “almost Tuesday”, when we arrive at lunchtime on Monday in some Polish industrial horror town.
With LL and the Prophet I have travelled around Europe often landing in forgotten corners.
There have been good times, funny moments and interesting characters along the way. But it is time to stop travelling for me. I will soon be going to a new office where they don’t expect me to jump on a plane all the time.
The return journey always shows me my real attitude and it is not always pleasant.
Quite understandably we are all keen to get to the airport on time. Taxi drivers are measured by one criteria- fast ones are good, slow ones are bad. At the airport we check in as fast as possible. Those in front of the queue who ask the check in girl too many questions automatically class themselves as “awkward squad” in my eyes. More “awkward squad” are encountered at security, taking ages to empty their pockets, setting off the alarm (sometimes deliberately in the case of letches in Scandinavia who take advantage of the opportunity to be frisked by a 6 foot blonde).
Then the gate rituals commence. Some airlines are efficient. Others are awful and still fail to realise how long it takes to board a plane with 120, sometimes awkward, passengers. Bottom place goes to SAS who routinely overbook their London bound flights, leading to unseemly auctions for passengers to take a later flight for a certain quantity of Euros in compensation. They then start boarding 5 minutes from take-off and claim to be surprised or disappointed when they miss their take-off slot.
On the plane the single most infuriating feature of aircraft travel is those passengers who hog the aisle putting baggage and coats away at a leisurely pace, while 50 other passengers queue behind them waiting to take their seats. Latecomers are another menace. I am sure we would all appreciate a plane waiting for us. However when you have made the effort to be their on time, it is annoying to wait while the shambolic few hold up the many who just want to go home.
Then the flight itself. If it is full there is a high risk of getting a centre seat. The other week I was between one sleeper who periodically tried to put his head on my shoulder and an obese man complete with laptop. This makes any flight unpleasant. Aisle or window seats are obviously better.
Heathrow on Fridays is a place of suffering. First the plane must often circle round various parts of London. Foreign airlines fare worst being forced to wait longer than BA. Sometimes you just want to tell the pilot to force his way down. “Land anyway- they’ll have to let you down rather than cause a crash”. It’s madness of course. On the ground anything can still happen. Plane jams, broken air bridges or just unexplained delays can all happen. The only form of protest available is to turn on your mobile phone earlier than permitted. “Don’t turn on my phone? Well- you get here on time, then I won’t!”. Such protests are futile and unseen.
At last the plane is open. Awkward squad members get bags stuck or just dawdle. Then it is every man for himself in a speed walk to passport control. Alarm bells ring if immigration officers are in pairs. This signifies a trainee and therefore slow inspections. I get in a queue where the immigration officer appears to be experienced. All this can be to no avail if the luggage is delayed. What do they do with luggage? Sometimes the belt starts and no luggage appears. Sometimes a few bags are sent through alone almost as if to tease the waiting passengers. I just want to call through the rubber curtain telling them to hurry up.
Lastly I pass through customs. That has never been a problem so far. I have nothing to hide but just don’t want to delay. I try to emit positive karma and so far it has worked. I’ve never been asked anything more than where I’m travelling from.
Then I normally get a cab and we slug through the Friday night traffic in London. This is a lottery but the worst is over.
At last I’m home. I am with my angel and it is good-bye to factories, hotels, planes and taxis.
That is why I am leaving my office. There is someone in London calling me home.
I am tired of 5am taxis, I am tired of airports, of security checks, of planes, of middle seats on aircraft, of forced small talk with foreign finance directors, of feigning interest in what they have to say, of bad hotels, of good hotels, of bad restaurants, of good restaurants. But most of all I am tired of separation for days or weeks from those who I love and care for. This blog is only about me, my thoughts and my experiences at work, but to understand me in this regard, I should say that I miss by beautiful wife, who I married this year.
I am no use to anyone but my company when I am sitting in a foreign field.
I sometimes deny where I am, shown by my watch that always shows Greenwich Mean Time or British Summer Time regardless of whether I am in the US, Europe or Arabia. I can calculate the local time in my head but my watch, at least, will be forever England.
Counting the hours away is never a healthy condition. Life is too short and precious to wish away yet I know all too well that 5 days is 120 hours, 4 days is 96 hours and so on. On my foreign trips that last a week I know that Wednesday afternoon always marks the second half (the beginning of the end?).
Even my colleague, Latino Lothario, jokes, “almost Tuesday”, when we arrive at lunchtime on Monday in some Polish industrial horror town.
With LL and the Prophet I have travelled around Europe often landing in forgotten corners.
There have been good times, funny moments and interesting characters along the way. But it is time to stop travelling for me. I will soon be going to a new office where they don’t expect me to jump on a plane all the time.
The return journey always shows me my real attitude and it is not always pleasant.
Quite understandably we are all keen to get to the airport on time. Taxi drivers are measured by one criteria- fast ones are good, slow ones are bad. At the airport we check in as fast as possible. Those in front of the queue who ask the check in girl too many questions automatically class themselves as “awkward squad” in my eyes. More “awkward squad” are encountered at security, taking ages to empty their pockets, setting off the alarm (sometimes deliberately in the case of letches in Scandinavia who take advantage of the opportunity to be frisked by a 6 foot blonde).
Then the gate rituals commence. Some airlines are efficient. Others are awful and still fail to realise how long it takes to board a plane with 120, sometimes awkward, passengers. Bottom place goes to SAS who routinely overbook their London bound flights, leading to unseemly auctions for passengers to take a later flight for a certain quantity of Euros in compensation. They then start boarding 5 minutes from take-off and claim to be surprised or disappointed when they miss their take-off slot.
On the plane the single most infuriating feature of aircraft travel is those passengers who hog the aisle putting baggage and coats away at a leisurely pace, while 50 other passengers queue behind them waiting to take their seats. Latecomers are another menace. I am sure we would all appreciate a plane waiting for us. However when you have made the effort to be their on time, it is annoying to wait while the shambolic few hold up the many who just want to go home.
Then the flight itself. If it is full there is a high risk of getting a centre seat. The other week I was between one sleeper who periodically tried to put his head on my shoulder and an obese man complete with laptop. This makes any flight unpleasant. Aisle or window seats are obviously better.
Heathrow on Fridays is a place of suffering. First the plane must often circle round various parts of London. Foreign airlines fare worst being forced to wait longer than BA. Sometimes you just want to tell the pilot to force his way down. “Land anyway- they’ll have to let you down rather than cause a crash”. It’s madness of course. On the ground anything can still happen. Plane jams, broken air bridges or just unexplained delays can all happen. The only form of protest available is to turn on your mobile phone earlier than permitted. “Don’t turn on my phone? Well- you get here on time, then I won’t!”. Such protests are futile and unseen.
At last the plane is open. Awkward squad members get bags stuck or just dawdle. Then it is every man for himself in a speed walk to passport control. Alarm bells ring if immigration officers are in pairs. This signifies a trainee and therefore slow inspections. I get in a queue where the immigration officer appears to be experienced. All this can be to no avail if the luggage is delayed. What do they do with luggage? Sometimes the belt starts and no luggage appears. Sometimes a few bags are sent through alone almost as if to tease the waiting passengers. I just want to call through the rubber curtain telling them to hurry up.
Lastly I pass through customs. That has never been a problem so far. I have nothing to hide but just don’t want to delay. I try to emit positive karma and so far it has worked. I’ve never been asked anything more than where I’m travelling from.
Then I normally get a cab and we slug through the Friday night traffic in London. This is a lottery but the worst is over.
At last I’m home. I am with my angel and it is good-bye to factories, hotels, planes and taxis.
That is why I am leaving my office. There is someone in London calling me home.
Monday, November 14, 2005
Advise for London Hotel Guests
Imagine the situation. You are staying in London on business or pleasure. You have had a long day and have travelled a long way. You are staying in a hotel, which being London, will almost certainly be expensive but hopefully will be quite comfortable.
What could be better than getting into your hotel room and have a nice hot shower or bath ?
On the surface, there is nothing wrong but the lessons from this London office point to hidden dangers.
Opposite our office in an expensive part of London is a quite an expensive hotel. It is not particularly well-known or special. However it is a good hotel where people stay if they are on business or maybe even on a high cost holiday.
This hotel provides regular entertainment for the “work-seekers” in our office. Guests in various states of undress naively think that no one is looking in through their third or fourth floor windows. Anyone who has worked in our office would realise this is a fundamental error. Lots of people maybe looking through the windows. In fact on occasions a whole office of people will be looking !
I have been out of the office for sometime but recently I exchanged emails with my Spanish colleague aka Latino Lothario. He informed me all was well but reported there had been a naked woman spotted in one of the rooms of the hotel. He wrote that everyone had been looking at her. LL stated simply she had been quite young and worth looking at. He suggested I contact Charles, our well-informed but slightly letcherous Treasury colleague for further details.
I emailed Charles, regarding the fact that I am soon to be leaving the office for another job (more to follow on this subject) and asking, in passing, about the hotel nude.
Charles responded that I had missed a good day in the office and expanded that there had been “lesbian action” in the room. This fact had not been noted at all by Latino Lothario. If there had been some tangible event it seems unlikely he wouldn’t have reported it.
I can therefore only assume that Charles was interpreting some feature of this girl to conclude that she was a lesbian. Maybe a visiting maid was seen in the room or maybe she just looked like a lesbian to Charles.
Anyway it illustrates the point that even as a completely unknown person, if you fail to draw your curtains in a London hotel room that can be seen from an office, you may well be shamelessly watched regardless of your state of dress. Also a conclusion, fair or unfair, will be made about you.
Not all hotel visitors are so alluring for the likes of Charles and Latino Lothario e.g. the portly middle aged man who emerged completely naked (and wet) from his bathroom only to dry off his back (all parts of his back) standing next to the window. Howls of agony could be heard from Charles and others as this flabby man dried his bottom, blissfully unaware that about 10 people were watching him. It was an unpleasant sight for all to behold.
An older woman appeared partially undressed. Charles announced she was not worth looking at (in contrast to the middle aged man above who was watched continually ??!!).
The most famous incident in our office which is now part of office legend was when a girl (said to be 18 by Charles) applied all-over body moisturiser to herself for around 30 minutes.
I missed this but saw her later sitting in a tracksuit looking out of her window.
The same afternoon and in the next room a bare chested man appeared in short tennis shorts, drawing back his curtain. At that point an element of fear crept in that this was too (good) unlikely to be true and as it was Comic Relief day it was feared that the office was being “set-up” by a camera trained back on the office to record the reactions of those inside to various hotel residents.
We never found up if it was a set up but it was certainly a sobering thought that the residents could fight back and film us watching them.
But unless you are planning to film the workers in an office react to you for documentary/artistic/personal purposes or unless you are an exhibitionist, remember that office facing hotels windows in London most certainly have eyes !!
What could be better than getting into your hotel room and have a nice hot shower or bath ?
On the surface, there is nothing wrong but the lessons from this London office point to hidden dangers.
Opposite our office in an expensive part of London is a quite an expensive hotel. It is not particularly well-known or special. However it is a good hotel where people stay if they are on business or maybe even on a high cost holiday.
This hotel provides regular entertainment for the “work-seekers” in our office. Guests in various states of undress naively think that no one is looking in through their third or fourth floor windows. Anyone who has worked in our office would realise this is a fundamental error. Lots of people maybe looking through the windows. In fact on occasions a whole office of people will be looking !
I have been out of the office for sometime but recently I exchanged emails with my Spanish colleague aka Latino Lothario. He informed me all was well but reported there had been a naked woman spotted in one of the rooms of the hotel. He wrote that everyone had been looking at her. LL stated simply she had been quite young and worth looking at. He suggested I contact Charles, our well-informed but slightly letcherous Treasury colleague for further details.
I emailed Charles, regarding the fact that I am soon to be leaving the office for another job (more to follow on this subject) and asking, in passing, about the hotel nude.
Charles responded that I had missed a good day in the office and expanded that there had been “lesbian action” in the room. This fact had not been noted at all by Latino Lothario. If there had been some tangible event it seems unlikely he wouldn’t have reported it.
I can therefore only assume that Charles was interpreting some feature of this girl to conclude that she was a lesbian. Maybe a visiting maid was seen in the room or maybe she just looked like a lesbian to Charles.
Anyway it illustrates the point that even as a completely unknown person, if you fail to draw your curtains in a London hotel room that can be seen from an office, you may well be shamelessly watched regardless of your state of dress. Also a conclusion, fair or unfair, will be made about you.
Not all hotel visitors are so alluring for the likes of Charles and Latino Lothario e.g. the portly middle aged man who emerged completely naked (and wet) from his bathroom only to dry off his back (all parts of his back) standing next to the window. Howls of agony could be heard from Charles and others as this flabby man dried his bottom, blissfully unaware that about 10 people were watching him. It was an unpleasant sight for all to behold.
An older woman appeared partially undressed. Charles announced she was not worth looking at (in contrast to the middle aged man above who was watched continually ??!!).
The most famous incident in our office which is now part of office legend was when a girl (said to be 18 by Charles) applied all-over body moisturiser to herself for around 30 minutes.
I missed this but saw her later sitting in a tracksuit looking out of her window.
The same afternoon and in the next room a bare chested man appeared in short tennis shorts, drawing back his curtain. At that point an element of fear crept in that this was too (good) unlikely to be true and as it was Comic Relief day it was feared that the office was being “set-up” by a camera trained back on the office to record the reactions of those inside to various hotel residents.
We never found up if it was a set up but it was certainly a sobering thought that the residents could fight back and film us watching them.
But unless you are planning to film the workers in an office react to you for documentary/artistic/personal purposes or unless you are an exhibitionist, remember that office facing hotels windows in London most certainly have eyes !!
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