Popped into the National Gallery today for half an hour. Had to make a quick choice - Old Masters vs Impressionists. No way I can do both. Went for the latter. Only three rooms. Degas, Cezanne, van Gogh, Manet, Monet, Gauguin. Even a Klimt. Saw them all a million times. Surprisingly, the one that caught my eye was Earthenware Pot by Vuillard. An unusual still life. Most still lifes have a bowl of fruit or flowers standing in glorious isolation in the middle of the frame. Vuillard put the pot of flowers on the left of a table to which a family is sat chatting. And still, despite the people, the odd composition, the beautiful flowers and the very heavy frame, it is the earthenware pot that stands out from the picture. It was wonderful.
One reason the pot may have caught my eye was that it was one of the few paintings which did not have hoards of people in front of it. You see, the gallery was packed. Didn't use to be like that. One of the first things that the previous government did when it came to power in 1997 is to alleviate the entrance fees to national museums. Let the nation see its national treasures sort of thing. For those of you more into numbers than art, in the three rooms I saw alone there were easily £1,000,000,000 of paintings. So the gallery was packed with families enjoying the bank holiday. Enjoying the fact that one of the best ways to spend a few hours in London is free. True cultural democracy. Just hope the new government will stick with it.
PS 465km down. 535km to go.
Monday 31 May 2010
Sunday 30 May 2010
Old hand
Had MGF S&A over today. First time since they had their little baby boy. It's been a month since the little one was born, but the first time they felt like socialising. From my own experience it feels just right. You see, when a baby is born our animal instincts kick in. Like most other mammals, women usually give birth at night. If they can help it they will stay in the cave with the newborn for a while. The father will go out and bring in the food. The mother will feed. Being human it takes us longer to get into our stride, so it takes about a month.
So, having three little ones of my own, I felt like an old hand. Confident. "Let the young couple enjoy themselves and I'll hold the little one for a while" I thought. It went extremely well - I gave the little one the famous JT one-hand-tummy-hold - for 2 seconds. The lungs on him! How embarrassing.
PS 460km down. 540km to go.
So, having three little ones of my own, I felt like an old hand. Confident. "Let the young couple enjoy themselves and I'll hold the little one for a while" I thought. It went extremely well - I gave the little one the famous JT one-hand-tummy-hold - for 2 seconds. The lungs on him! How embarrassing.
PS 460km down. 540km to go.
Saturday 29 May 2010
The gambler
Not that it means much to anyone else, but this week is the financial year end of my employers. It is a funny one. Let's be clear about this, there are no positive surprises at this stage. No blue birds flying through the window. So, in essence, there is not much to do. Or, at least, nothing one could not expect. In reality, it is more about waiting than doing. And still, the working days are longer and, at least for me, completely exhausting. It is the tension.
You see, selling software is a bit like being a gambler. Software is the least tangible of assets. We get corporations to pay millions of £s on the promise that if they implement it properly and change their processes and organisation to fit the way the software works they will save or gain even more millions of £s in 2-3 years time. And what do they get for their money and good will? A CD! So, fundamentally, whenever you engage with a customer you basically know that the likelihood of them actually buying into the story you've weaved, convince their entire organisation it is worthwhile and get the CFO to put their hand in their pocket in an age when cash is extremely scarce is as small as the three cherries popping up together on the slot machine. And like a gambler, a heavy gambler, you are betting a lot. A LOT! Approximately 50% of one's annual earning. The funny thing is, we manage to convince ourselves this is normal. Me, a gambler?
Luckily, got the cherries in line. Tension over. A feeling of relief rather than exhilaration. Emptiness is the dominant emotion. And exhaustion.
PS 450km down. 550km to go.
You see, selling software is a bit like being a gambler. Software is the least tangible of assets. We get corporations to pay millions of £s on the promise that if they implement it properly and change their processes and organisation to fit the way the software works they will save or gain even more millions of £s in 2-3 years time. And what do they get for their money and good will? A CD! So, fundamentally, whenever you engage with a customer you basically know that the likelihood of them actually buying into the story you've weaved, convince their entire organisation it is worthwhile and get the CFO to put their hand in their pocket in an age when cash is extremely scarce is as small as the three cherries popping up together on the slot machine. And like a gambler, a heavy gambler, you are betting a lot. A LOT! Approximately 50% of one's annual earning. The funny thing is, we manage to convince ourselves this is normal. Me, a gambler?
Luckily, got the cherries in line. Tension over. A feeling of relief rather than exhilaration. Emptiness is the dominant emotion. And exhaustion.
PS 450km down. 550km to go.
Tuesday 25 May 2010
The year of the Guv 2
A couple of weeks ago, you may recall, I wrote about the renewed importance of the Manager in football. Cunningly, I "forgot" to mention one very important Manager - The Special One. You see, I was betting on him making a great year an unprecedented one - the first ever Italian treble of Coppa, Serie A and Champions League. The most amazing thing about it is not that Inter did it but the fact that the vast majority of people cannot name a single Inter player, but everyone know they are managed by Mourinho. In the age of footballer celebrity the biggest celebrity of all is a Manager.
And now, finally, Real Madrid got it. A group of Galacticos is all very well for marketing. To win trophies you need an Uber-Galactico-Manager (UGM) to turn them into a team. The only major title won by Real in recent years was La Liga under Capello - the first manager in years who can control the super-egos of the England squad. And now they have the biggest UGM by a country mile. All one can hope is that Pep Guardiola, Messi, Xavi and Iniesta have enough talent between them to make sure Mourinho fails.
PS 440km down. 560km to go.
And now, finally, Real Madrid got it. A group of Galacticos is all very well for marketing. To win trophies you need an Uber-Galactico-Manager (UGM) to turn them into a team. The only major title won by Real in recent years was La Liga under Capello - the first manager in years who can control the super-egos of the England squad. And now they have the biggest UGM by a country mile. All one can hope is that Pep Guardiola, Messi, Xavi and Iniesta have enough talent between them to make sure Mourinho fails.
PS 440km down. 560km to go.
Sunday 23 May 2010
Summer on the hill
Hawk was keeping as still as he could. The warm air-currents were pushing him up and up above the green hill. His prey was bouncing about restlessly, as if out of place amongst the hoards of larger animals laying around motionless on the warm grass. It was hot. Much hotter than usual in his part of the world. And humid.
He found it difficult to concentrate. Too many potential targets. Still, he focused. Preparing his strike. His prey stopped. Not a moment to waste. Hawk folded his wings under him and started falling like a rock from the sky. The warm winds made it difficult to judge, but just at the right moment he opened up his wings like a parachute, threw his taloned-feet forward and sunk them into the warm flesh. His prey was struggling but Hawk struck his wings as hard as he could rising higher and higher above the hill into the quite sky.
Down below, on the hill, things were less serene. Moochie's squeaks woke Miranda up. When she saw her Chihuahua in Hawk's claws she fainted.
Summer on Primrose Hill.
PS 435km down. 465km to go.
He found it difficult to concentrate. Too many potential targets. Still, he focused. Preparing his strike. His prey stopped. Not a moment to waste. Hawk folded his wings under him and started falling like a rock from the sky. The warm winds made it difficult to judge, but just at the right moment he opened up his wings like a parachute, threw his taloned-feet forward and sunk them into the warm flesh. His prey was struggling but Hawk struck his wings as hard as he could rising higher and higher above the hill into the quite sky.
Down below, on the hill, things were less serene. Moochie's squeaks woke Miranda up. When she saw her Chihuahua in Hawk's claws she fainted.
Summer on Primrose Hill.
PS 435km down. 465km to go.
Judge a book by its cover. Don't
Middle-aged, white, male.
Jewish immigrant.
Intelligent, athletic, kind, charismatic.
Easy to catch food-stuff.
All define me. The last is a tiger's perspective. The first will be my Census grouping. The one before last, is how I would like others to view me but is so far from reality I know there is no chance anyone will. The second is the one I least identify with but I guess may end up defining me.
One way or another, they are all brush-stroke descriptions that say very little about who we are. We are all too complex to be summed up in a few words. And still, they are very useful ways of capturing an aspect of us. The tiger has only two questions in mind. It doesn't need to know much. Am I nutritious and safe to eat? Will it be risky to attack me? I am not sure if it is interested whether or not I read Proust [and if you are interested: no, I didn't].
When we meet a new person we categorise them within a fraction of a second. If they smile we will naturally warm up to them. If they are well dressed we will imagine they are successful. Probably the first thing we'll notice is gender. Whilst I probably wouldn't like to admit it, and you may well think I am shallow, but, in the first 5 seconds after meeting a gorgeous looking woman I am not that likely to consider how intelligent she might be. And I do recognise there is no scientific evidence for negative correlation between good looks and intelligence. Similarly, if I see an old man in a library pouring over a volume of Proust, I will immediately think he is intelligent and well educated (definitely more than me because, as you now know, I never did read Proust). I will not pause to think he may be the cleaner putting the books back on the shelf.
When we meet a person we always start by labelling them. These labels are barely founded and often unfair categorisations. And, as charged as these labels may be - what does my being short have anything to do with who I am - we cannot avoid them. Doing so does not make us narrow minded or shallow (although in the case of the gorgeous looking woman above I tend to be both). What will make us both shallow and narrow-minded, and even worse, xenophobic, racist, bigoted, misogynist etc, is if we cannot reach beyond these labels and see the real person in front of us.
PS 430km down. 570km to go.
Jewish immigrant.
Intelligent, athletic, kind, charismatic.
Easy to catch food-stuff.
All define me. The last is a tiger's perspective. The first will be my Census grouping. The one before last, is how I would like others to view me but is so far from reality I know there is no chance anyone will. The second is the one I least identify with but I guess may end up defining me.
One way or another, they are all brush-stroke descriptions that say very little about who we are. We are all too complex to be summed up in a few words. And still, they are very useful ways of capturing an aspect of us. The tiger has only two questions in mind. It doesn't need to know much. Am I nutritious and safe to eat? Will it be risky to attack me? I am not sure if it is interested whether or not I read Proust [and if you are interested: no, I didn't].
When we meet a new person we categorise them within a fraction of a second. If they smile we will naturally warm up to them. If they are well dressed we will imagine they are successful. Probably the first thing we'll notice is gender. Whilst I probably wouldn't like to admit it, and you may well think I am shallow, but, in the first 5 seconds after meeting a gorgeous looking woman I am not that likely to consider how intelligent she might be. And I do recognise there is no scientific evidence for negative correlation between good looks and intelligence. Similarly, if I see an old man in a library pouring over a volume of Proust, I will immediately think he is intelligent and well educated (definitely more than me because, as you now know, I never did read Proust). I will not pause to think he may be the cleaner putting the books back on the shelf.
When we meet a person we always start by labelling them. These labels are barely founded and often unfair categorisations. And, as charged as these labels may be - what does my being short have anything to do with who I am - we cannot avoid them. Doing so does not make us narrow minded or shallow (although in the case of the gorgeous looking woman above I tend to be both). What will make us both shallow and narrow-minded, and even worse, xenophobic, racist, bigoted, misogynist etc, is if we cannot reach beyond these labels and see the real person in front of us.
PS 430km down. 570km to go.
Tuesday 18 May 2010
10x The Big M
Finally reached 420km today. That's 10 Marathons! Still, I ain't no Haile Gebrselassie. You see, the man runs 42km in 2:03:59 - that's 20km/h. Cars are not allowed to go faster in our neighbourhood. So, me struggling to do 12km/h on a 10km run is not that impressive after all.
And still, the further I go into my 1,000km challenge, the more I feel like going for The Big M. I'm not sure I am up to it though. And, more importantly, I am afraid of putting too much stress on my aging body. Simply, I cannot afford an injury. Going for The Big M and ending not living up to the original challenge would be too much.
So, here's an idea that came to me during the run today: go for the Marathon after the 1,000km is done! Need to give it some more thought before I commit to it. Will get back to once when I do.
PS 420km down. 580km to go.
And still, the further I go into my 1,000km challenge, the more I feel like going for The Big M. I'm not sure I am up to it though. And, more importantly, I am afraid of putting too much stress on my aging body. Simply, I cannot afford an injury. Going for The Big M and ending not living up to the original challenge would be too much.
So, here's an idea that came to me during the run today: go for the Marathon after the 1,000km is done! Need to give it some more thought before I commit to it. Will get back to once when I do.
PS 420km down. 580km to go.
Sunday 16 May 2010
The special one
You would be justified thinking I am talking about Jose Mourinho. Earlier today he completed the Italian double and Saturday his team will be contesting the Champion's League title - one win away from an unprecedented treble in Italian football. And no one can blame it on the lack of quality opponents. Whilst they did not exactly do it in style, Inter did beat Chelsea and Barcelona. So, as much as I hate the Portuguese's pragmatic approach, I simply cannot favour Bayern - you know, Hitler and all that - so good luck Special One.
Anyway, the special one I was thinking about is MFBD. This weekend was her birthday party - a 5-girl sleep over. If you are wondering; we survived. The thing that impressed me most was the planning. I am not joking. Pay attention all you future employers. Let's put it this way, if the European Space Agency planned its Rover mission to this level of detail, we would have already been holidaying in Mars. "Antigua? So last year? We are going to Mars this summer!"
The day, and night, and day, were planned in a timeline down to 10min intervals. Games, food, drinks, tableware, music, movies, presents etc were all meticulously organised. And by God did it work! Seriously, this little one is going somewhere. She is special.
PS 415km down. 585km to go.
Anyway, the special one I was thinking about is MFBD. This weekend was her birthday party - a 5-girl sleep over. If you are wondering; we survived. The thing that impressed me most was the planning. I am not joking. Pay attention all you future employers. Let's put it this way, if the European Space Agency planned its Rover mission to this level of detail, we would have already been holidaying in Mars. "Antigua? So last year? We are going to Mars this summer!"
The day, and night, and day, were planned in a timeline down to 10min intervals. Games, food, drinks, tableware, music, movies, presents etc were all meticulously organised. And by God did it work! Seriously, this little one is going somewhere. She is special.
PS 415km down. 585km to go.
Saturday 15 May 2010
Sibling rivalry?
And now to the Labour leadership contest. In the Red corner, Ed "Global-Warming" Miliband. In the Grey corner, David "Hilary-Fancy's-Me" . . . . Miliband. So, is this a classic case of sibling rivalry? Are we looking at the Noel and Liam Gallagher of politics, only with the vowels dropping properly? In my devious mind I am hoping: possibly even worse. How wonderful.
You see, the Manchurian siblings are, how should I put it, not very sophisticated. Lots of 2-fingered gestures and 4-letter words. The Milibands I can only imagine are more subtle. More likely to drop a bit of arsenic in the G&T when the other is not looking. Devious backstabbing is always more fun.
Alas, as MGF G would have said, I just don't see it. If David Miliband had a even an ounce of steely cruelty in him he would have taken Brown out a year ago. Brown was at his most vulnerable: an un-elected automaton with not a single iota of charisma in his body. Worse, he was the chancellor who declared the end of Boom & Bust and then led the country to the worst Bust in 60 years. If DM had it in him he would have shot Brown in a dark alley and given his party a chance to stay in power.
So, you may be thinking, the fact that David doesn't have it in him doesn't mean Ed doesn't. True. However, if only one of them is a backstabbing duplicitous conniver, it just won't be any fun. That's why I am struggling to take this sibling rivalry seriously. I don't buy it. Rather, I am smelling a bit of a rat.
Here's why. You see, the worse thing that could happen to David Miliband, as he will have learnt from Brown's experience, is being crowned as Labour leader without a proper contest. With Alan Johnson - a charismatic, genuine, authentic, experienced and well-liked union leader - ruling himself out, Ed represents the only credible challenge to David. With all due respect to Ed Balls, he is more of a bully's bully than a credible party leader. So Ed Miliband has thrown his hat in the ring to help David gain legitimacy by winning good and proper. More brotherly love than sibling rivalry. How dull.
PS Just back from my 50th run. 410km down, 590km to go.
You see, the Manchurian siblings are, how should I put it, not very sophisticated. Lots of 2-fingered gestures and 4-letter words. The Milibands I can only imagine are more subtle. More likely to drop a bit of arsenic in the G&T when the other is not looking. Devious backstabbing is always more fun.
Alas, as MGF G would have said, I just don't see it. If David Miliband had a even an ounce of steely cruelty in him he would have taken Brown out a year ago. Brown was at his most vulnerable: an un-elected automaton with not a single iota of charisma in his body. Worse, he was the chancellor who declared the end of Boom & Bust and then led the country to the worst Bust in 60 years. If DM had it in him he would have shot Brown in a dark alley and given his party a chance to stay in power.
So, you may be thinking, the fact that David doesn't have it in him doesn't mean Ed doesn't. True. However, if only one of them is a backstabbing duplicitous conniver, it just won't be any fun. That's why I am struggling to take this sibling rivalry seriously. I don't buy it. Rather, I am smelling a bit of a rat.
Here's why. You see, the worse thing that could happen to David Miliband, as he will have learnt from Brown's experience, is being crowned as Labour leader without a proper contest. With Alan Johnson - a charismatic, genuine, authentic, experienced and well-liked union leader - ruling himself out, Ed represents the only credible challenge to David. With all due respect to Ed Balls, he is more of a bully's bully than a credible party leader. So Ed Miliband has thrown his hat in the ring to help David gain legitimacy by winning good and proper. More brotherly love than sibling rivalry. How dull.
PS Just back from my 50th run. 410km down, 590km to go.
Thursday 13 May 2010
The Liberal Toricracts
So, a new coalition government is in place. Probably the best outcome taking into account the election results. A Labour government was absolutely un-viable. A minority Tory government would have been radical and unstable. Only thing that's completely daft is leaving Osborne as Chancellor. A coalition was a great excuse to give the job to someone who could actually do the job.
The markets appear to agree that this is the best of the three evils. The concerns over a hung parliament almost a thing of the past. Not wishing to blow my own horn here [i.e. wanting to blow my own horn as loudly as I can], I can say: "I am not the kind of guy to say I told you so". FTSE up 300 points or 6%, the £ up 2 cents against the $ and even BP up 1.1%. The markets, as ever, are hysterical. Always swinging between doom and gloom and euphoria. Had I any money to invest, I would have made a killing.
Now that we have some answers as to what will happen in the political short term, the interesting question is what is the long term political impact. Which party will win long term? My bet is on the Labour party. Here's why. In the worse case scenario that the new government screws things up, Labour is the only alternative. If it doesn't, who will get the credit? Will it be the Tories? The Lib Dems? The Liberal Toricrats? Voters will find it very difficult to tell and will split the votes between them, allowing everyone else to get behind Labour. And on this one I am putting another cool £1.
PS 405km down. 595km to go.
The markets appear to agree that this is the best of the three evils. The concerns over a hung parliament almost a thing of the past. Not wishing to blow my own horn here [i.e. wanting to blow my own horn as loudly as I can], I can say: "I am not the kind of guy to say I told you so". FTSE up 300 points or 6%, the £ up 2 cents against the $ and even BP up 1.1%. The markets, as ever, are hysterical. Always swinging between doom and gloom and euphoria. Had I any money to invest, I would have made a killing.
Now that we have some answers as to what will happen in the political short term, the interesting question is what is the long term political impact. Which party will win long term? My bet is on the Labour party. Here's why. In the worse case scenario that the new government screws things up, Labour is the only alternative. If it doesn't, who will get the credit? Will it be the Tories? The Lib Dems? The Liberal Toricrats? Voters will find it very difficult to tell and will split the votes between them, allowing everyone else to get behind Labour. And on this one I am putting another cool £1.
PS 405km down. 595km to go.
Monday 10 May 2010
The year of the Guv
It's turning out to be a wonderful season for The Beautiful Game. For once the title races are real. All three major leagues - The Premiership, La Liga and Serie A - are going down to the wire. Man U vs Chelsea; Barca vs Real & Inter vs Roma all to be decided on the last day of the season. And, at least in England, it was decided in style. The pragmatists of Chelsea, who had to win by a single goal, winning 8:0 on the way to scoring 103 goals in the league and 140 in all competitions, with a game still to go.
So, clearly, we football fans are the clear winners. But not just us. The surprise winners, in an age in which football is dominated by 20-something-year-old-bling-adorning-Cristal-swinging-groopy-romping millionaires, were the old foxes - the wily managers.
So, clearly, we football fans are the clear winners. But not just us. The surprise winners, in an age in which football is dominated by 20-something-year-old-bling-adorning-Cristal-swinging-groopy-romping millionaires, were the old foxes - the wily managers.
Naturally, one has to mention Alex Ferguson, who's been doing his magic for a cool 36 years since taking charge of East Stirlingshire in 1974. After selling the world's biggest ego, letting go of the most industrious forward and losing an entire back 4 to injury, he still managed to get to within 1 point of the title. Relative youngster like Fabio Capello (1986), Guus Hiddink (1987) and Carlo Ancelotti (1995), with an average tenure of over 20 years, managed to weave egotistic cry-babies (the entire English squad, Ribery & Roben and Ashley Cole & Drogba respectively) into cohesive, winning teams. [I know, Drogba insisting on risking the title for a chance to win the Golden Boot doesn't really count, but still.]
But the biggest foxes of all are no doubt Harry Redknapp (1983) and Roy Hodgson (1976). The former taking a Portsmouth team to the Champions League. The latter taking a group of unknowns to the Europa League final, brushing aside football royalty like Juventus through a series of unlikely comebacks.
Naturally, with the praise of some comes the criticism of the other. Yes, I am talking about you Rafa! How the hell did he manage to take the same team that came 2nd last year and drop them to 7th as well as being knocked out of the Champions League in the group stages? God knows.
So, thank you so much old fellas for proving the game is still beautiful. Thanks for putting in place your overpaid disciples. Thanks for a great season. May the World Cup live up to the standard you set.
PS 400km down. 600km to go.
Sunday 9 May 2010
Coming of age
MFBD was away this week for 3 whole days. She is my oldest but still, she is my little girl. Very odd feeling it was. Seriously. The house felt empty without her. You see, it was the first time she's been away for so long. And not only could we not see her, we couldn't even talk with her. No mobile or anything. Obviously, it was tough on me. But what about her?
My friend L, whose daughter was also on the trip said: "I cannot put my finger on it, but she is 1% different". You see, MFBD is insisting she had a great time and yet it sure doesn't feel that way. She seems emotionally overwhelmed. And so, we hear, are her friends. They are not divulging much detail about their experience. As if they are part of a secret society. And in a way, I guess they are. The society of young people with its own unwritten rules. Being away is good. Telling your parents what you did with your friends is bad.
By entering this secret society she is coming of age. And as hard as it may be, for her and for me, I recon it's my role as dad to help her through it.
PS A disappointing week - first time I did not do my 20km quota. Only 15km. Promise to make up for it tomorrow. 395km down. 605k to go.
My friend L, whose daughter was also on the trip said: "I cannot put my finger on it, but she is 1% different". You see, MFBD is insisting she had a great time and yet it sure doesn't feel that way. She seems emotionally overwhelmed. And so, we hear, are her friends. They are not divulging much detail about their experience. As if they are part of a secret society. And in a way, I guess they are. The society of young people with its own unwritten rules. Being away is good. Telling your parents what you did with your friends is bad.
By entering this secret society she is coming of age. And as hard as it may be, for her and for me, I recon it's my role as dad to help her through it.
PS A disappointing week - first time I did not do my 20km quota. Only 15km. Promise to make up for it tomorrow. 395km down. 605k to go.
Saturday 8 May 2010
Well, hung
What the hell is all the fuss about a hung Parliament? I know it doesn't happen often in Great Britain. Elsewhere, however, it is the norm. Think of a small, young democracy like the US. More often than not the President's party does not have a majority in the Congress and or the Senate. In the US it is considered a good thing; no one wants one party to have too much power. If the President knows he needs to convince the legislative to approve of his / her [it can still happen you know, a female president] actions, he / she will act more prudently than if he / she can conseider the House a mere rubber stamp.
So what's the fuss about a hung Parliament? Why do British politicians make so much of it? Why do they will the markets to fall and the £ to devalue? What's wrong with a coalition government in which two parties ensure that neither drives an extremist agenda? I say: nothing! The only thing is: it's un-British. So?
So here's my tip of the day. Take your $s and buy £s. Buy UK shares, especially BP. All of them are under-valued. Once a coalition government will be announced - and all three of the main parties would agree to compromise in order to be in government - everyone will relax a bit and things will go back to normal. I am putting a sound £1 bet on it!
PS 385km down. 615km to go. Need to do another 15km tomorrow to keep up the pace.
So what's the fuss about a hung Parliament? Why do British politicians make so much of it? Why do they will the markets to fall and the £ to devalue? What's wrong with a coalition government in which two parties ensure that neither drives an extremist agenda? I say: nothing! The only thing is: it's un-British. So?
So here's my tip of the day. Take your $s and buy £s. Buy UK shares, especially BP. All of them are under-valued. Once a coalition government will be announced - and all three of the main parties would agree to compromise in order to be in government - everyone will relax a bit and things will go back to normal. I am putting a sound £1 bet on it!
PS 385km down. 615km to go. Need to do another 15km tomorrow to keep up the pace.
Sunday 2 May 2010
Change but not for it's own sake
With 4 days to go, talking about the elections in unavoidable. Clearly, this is the most dynamic UK elections campaign in recent history. One in which 90mins of TV transformed a party-based system into a presidential one. This is no longer Labour vs Conservatives but Brown vs Cameron. And, more importantly, it is not even that. It is Clegg vs Cameron with Brown taking himself out of contention with every day that passes. After years of consistently diminishing impact on the British society, television is back; single-handedly changing an electoral system that's been in place for many decades.
Commentators are explaining the situation by appealing to people's desire for change. Nick Clegg is the fresh faced candidate. The anti-establishment leader who is coming into this contest with a clean slate. Not contaminated by 13 years in power through the worst recession in living memory. Not scarred by old-Tory values which, everyone knows, have guided Cameron since he tasted that golden spoon the day he was born. A commentator I greatly respect for his analysis on US politics - Andrew Sullivan - went further and even compared Clegg to Obama. Now I understand the point Sullivan is trying to make; like Obama who presented an alternative to Clinton and McCain, Clegg is an alternative to the old guard. However, that is where the similarities end. The Sunday Times published a poll today showing that voters like Clegg best yet at the same time, agree with least. They like the style but not the substance. For many months Obama's style was his electoral weakness. What carried him through was the substance. Or, to put it in American terms: Obama Clegg ain't.
Which takes us to Cameron. This election was Cameron's for the taking. He should have sailed through to a landslide. If change is what the voters want, why is Cameron struggling to take a clear lead? I don't think it's the Thatcher legacy. He is, after all, a compassionate Conservative. Ha ha ha. I dare say, it's the complete lack of substance. The key reason Cameron wanted the TV debates was, contrary to the perceived view, not that Brown would be so bad at it. And he clearly was. It was, rather, to turn this into a presidential vote. You see, Cameron's team is his biggest handicap. The quiet one? I can't even remember his name. Osborne? No child would trust him with their pocket money, let alone the economy.
So, whilst I understand the desire for change, I plead with the two of you reading this: please, not change for its own sake. Now I know, Brown is clearly the least endearing person in the history of politics. He would lose an election to Attila the Hun. At least Attila has charisma. And still, it is not Brown you'll be voting for but party with the most reasonable values and the team with the most experience. And in 2010, with a recession still in play and two wars being fought, that counts for a lot.
PS 380km down. 620km to go.
Commentators are explaining the situation by appealing to people's desire for change. Nick Clegg is the fresh faced candidate. The anti-establishment leader who is coming into this contest with a clean slate. Not contaminated by 13 years in power through the worst recession in living memory. Not scarred by old-Tory values which, everyone knows, have guided Cameron since he tasted that golden spoon the day he was born. A commentator I greatly respect for his analysis on US politics - Andrew Sullivan - went further and even compared Clegg to Obama. Now I understand the point Sullivan is trying to make; like Obama who presented an alternative to Clinton and McCain, Clegg is an alternative to the old guard. However, that is where the similarities end. The Sunday Times published a poll today showing that voters like Clegg best yet at the same time, agree with least. They like the style but not the substance. For many months Obama's style was his electoral weakness. What carried him through was the substance. Or, to put it in American terms: Obama Clegg ain't.
Which takes us to Cameron. This election was Cameron's for the taking. He should have sailed through to a landslide. If change is what the voters want, why is Cameron struggling to take a clear lead? I don't think it's the Thatcher legacy. He is, after all, a compassionate Conservative. Ha ha ha. I dare say, it's the complete lack of substance. The key reason Cameron wanted the TV debates was, contrary to the perceived view, not that Brown would be so bad at it. And he clearly was. It was, rather, to turn this into a presidential vote. You see, Cameron's team is his biggest handicap. The quiet one? I can't even remember his name. Osborne? No child would trust him with their pocket money, let alone the economy.
So, whilst I understand the desire for change, I plead with the two of you reading this: please, not change for its own sake. Now I know, Brown is clearly the least endearing person in the history of politics. He would lose an election to Attila the Hun. At least Attila has charisma. And still, it is not Brown you'll be voting for but party with the most reasonable values and the team with the most experience. And in 2010, with a recession still in play and two wars being fought, that counts for a lot.
PS 380km down. 620km to go.
Saturday 1 May 2010
Bickering
MFBD: "It's my chair! I always sit here. Move. I said move."
MBS: "Dada, she's pushing me".
Me: "Come on, there are 3 more chairs around the table. Go sit on one of them."
MFBD, pushing MBS: "No. It's my chair!"
Me: "Go to your room!"
MFBD runs to her room crying, slamming the door behind her.
We love our families so much and yet we end up spending so much time bickering. The thing is, though, we never bicker with anyone outside our families. I will never, ever, talk to anyone the way I sometimes talk to MBH. [Now I know you find it hard to believe, but it is, unfortunately, true. As unimaginable is it may be, I am, sometimes, less than pleasant. In fact, I can be, and am, rather obnoxious. I sometimes manage to hear myself talking and sink into deep shame].
But why? Why do end up fighting and bickering with the people we love most? And, more importantly, can we stop?
Well, as to why, I have two reasons. First, because we care. All the things that annoy me about my family I would consider hilarious in anyone else. When someone at work says something annoying I smile and think to myself "what an idiot". When it is my wife . . . .
The second reason, is that we are confident our actions and reactions will not have a lasting impact on our relationships with our family. My kids are stuck with me for life! There is nothing I can say that will de-father me. And as obnoxious as I may be, and am, they still love me.
But, can we stop it? Unfortunately, the answer to this question is hidden in the previous answer. Yes. But only if we stop caring. To stop we need to distance ourselves from our loved ones to the point they, and we, no longer are. And we definitely don't want that. Do we? So, let the bickering continue! Just, maybe, not so often . . . . .
PS 370km down. 630km to go
MBS: "Dada, she's pushing me".
Me: "Come on, there are 3 more chairs around the table. Go sit on one of them."
MFBD, pushing MBS: "No. It's my chair!"
Me: "Go to your room!"
MFBD runs to her room crying, slamming the door behind her.
We love our families so much and yet we end up spending so much time bickering. The thing is, though, we never bicker with anyone outside our families. I will never, ever, talk to anyone the way I sometimes talk to MBH. [Now I know you find it hard to believe, but it is, unfortunately, true. As unimaginable is it may be, I am, sometimes, less than pleasant. In fact, I can be, and am, rather obnoxious. I sometimes manage to hear myself talking and sink into deep shame].
But why? Why do end up fighting and bickering with the people we love most? And, more importantly, can we stop?
Well, as to why, I have two reasons. First, because we care. All the things that annoy me about my family I would consider hilarious in anyone else. When someone at work says something annoying I smile and think to myself "what an idiot". When it is my wife . . . .
The second reason, is that we are confident our actions and reactions will not have a lasting impact on our relationships with our family. My kids are stuck with me for life! There is nothing I can say that will de-father me. And as obnoxious as I may be, and am, they still love me.
But, can we stop it? Unfortunately, the answer to this question is hidden in the previous answer. Yes. But only if we stop caring. To stop we need to distance ourselves from our loved ones to the point they, and we, no longer are. And we definitely don't want that. Do we? So, let the bickering continue! Just, maybe, not so often . . . . .
PS 370km down. 630km to go
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