I've gradually been getting more interested in running. I started off going to the gym to lose a bit of weight and get a bit fitter for when R made an appearance. I didn't see the point of the treadmill. I tried the treadmill one day, could barely run five minutes, didn't see the point. I tried it again another day, could barely run ten minutes, started to vaguely see the point. But didn't want to go anywhere outside where I could be seen.
Now a charity I've done a lot of work with in the past are one of the official charities of the 2013 Virgin London Marathon. I was approached to run for them and I volunteered. So now I've got the challenge of running a marathon.
Actually, this is pretty exciting.
I'm having to take training a bit more seriously. From the stage where I was massively overweight and unfit I can now run 11k. I'm slow- very slow- but I can do it. It is such a buzz to be able to do something I couldn't ever do before. I want to do more, more, more. I'm still overweight and unfit but I can do things other people can't do. People seem genuinely impressed at me managing the distance.
I still think that I am very possibly completely mad for agreeing to do this, although bizarrely I now find the fundraising target more intimidating than the distance. I know I can do a quarter marathon a full nine months before the event. If I keep training I'll be fine, I'm sure I will. Extremely slow, no doubt, but that's not my target. My target is to get round the course, I don't care too much about the time, I know I'm not at the level of the good amateur runners who can run it in less than four hours. If I get round in five I'll be ecstatic.
My first challenge now is to run the Great North 10k next month. I'm doing it for me but asking for sponsorship for a fantastic charity- the Freeman Hospital's Childrens Heart Unit Fund- as an excuse to get some cash for them as much as anything. I'm running for my own pleasure- something I never thought I would do a year ago- but want to make some money for a deserving cause too. That place saved my sister-in-law's life on more than one occasion, it means so much to my family.
The obligatory sponsorship link for that is here: http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/arctictroll
As for the big event, the London Marathon, I'm running it as part of a team. The charity is YouthNet, an online charity supporting young people, and I've done work with them for 12 years now. Both working with them in terms of raising money and awareness, or just sharing my knowledge, but also as that dreaded term "service user". The community helped me when I was at my lowest, it probably kept me alive, and now with my family it's time to repay the favour. They're developing a new project to help people- young and old- combat loneliness using social and online tools in conjuction with Age UK and I just think the whole thing is fantastic. I'm running the marathon as a team of "young runners" (flattery gets one everywhere, I've not been called young for years now!) who have used the service in the same way as I have.
Again, anything you might be able to spare would be wonderful. I'll be asking several thousand times more in the next nine months, don't you worry (and don't you DARE block me either), but the link's here: www.virginmoneygiving.com/team/TheSiteRunsForIt.
In the meantime, this blog I think will mostly become a whingefest about how hard the training is. I want to keep the optimism for posterity; well, for a 20 mile run in the snow in November, anyway.
Wednesday, 20 June 2012
Saturday, 21 April 2012
Hippy or just old-fashioned?
I'm never sure whether people see my wife and I as hippies or old fashioned oddballs or what. I don't care, we just do still get odd looks sometimes for the way we do things.
Take R's birth, and the preceding pregnancy. R was born at home, E didn't want to be in hospital unless it was necessary. E didn't use much in the way of painkillers during labour; a bit of gas and air and paracetamol. None of it was especially planned or deliberate, but when we mention the home birth we get such weird looks. Our friends find it utterly bizarre we did it.
With R, we used a big old Silver Cross pram. Again, people thought it odd we didn't buy new ( especially the bus drivers when we got on the bus with that thing..,) but we didn't see the point.
I think the thing that gets me most is the odd reactions people give because we do our shopping in the market, rather than in Tesco. I go to the greengrocer for the veg, the butcher for the meat, the deli for the cheese and ham and eggs. It's seen as such an odd thing to do now, even though the market is cheaper, better quality and everyone we use regularly know us by name. Now I know we're lucky in Newcastle, the Grainger Market is one of the best and oldest indoor markets in the country, but still. It makes me sad to see the queues of people in Tesco, all waiting to buy overpriced shite, whilst the local and independent market sits waiting for them over the road.
I'm not sure what these things really make me. A Yorkshireman probably. I prefer to recycle, shop local, use the bus. I like the routine of going to the market with R then getting tea and cake. She's such good company. Ok, i also loved the attention that the Silver Cross brought (though R loved it more). But I find it quite sad that more people don't share in this pleasure anymore, it's all self service checkouts admonishing you for scanning too quickly or not quickly enough.
I think others see us as old fashioned hippies for this, which is the biggest shame of all. I don't want to see the world turn into one giant Tesco, everything disposable with no style or substance.
Now then, where's me flat cap and whippet?
Take R's birth, and the preceding pregnancy. R was born at home, E didn't want to be in hospital unless it was necessary. E didn't use much in the way of painkillers during labour; a bit of gas and air and paracetamol. None of it was especially planned or deliberate, but when we mention the home birth we get such weird looks. Our friends find it utterly bizarre we did it.
With R, we used a big old Silver Cross pram. Again, people thought it odd we didn't buy new ( especially the bus drivers when we got on the bus with that thing..,) but we didn't see the point.
I think the thing that gets me most is the odd reactions people give because we do our shopping in the market, rather than in Tesco. I go to the greengrocer for the veg, the butcher for the meat, the deli for the cheese and ham and eggs. It's seen as such an odd thing to do now, even though the market is cheaper, better quality and everyone we use regularly know us by name. Now I know we're lucky in Newcastle, the Grainger Market is one of the best and oldest indoor markets in the country, but still. It makes me sad to see the queues of people in Tesco, all waiting to buy overpriced shite, whilst the local and independent market sits waiting for them over the road.
I'm not sure what these things really make me. A Yorkshireman probably. I prefer to recycle, shop local, use the bus. I like the routine of going to the market with R then getting tea and cake. She's such good company. Ok, i also loved the attention that the Silver Cross brought (though R loved it more). But I find it quite sad that more people don't share in this pleasure anymore, it's all self service checkouts admonishing you for scanning too quickly or not quickly enough.
I think others see us as old fashioned hippies for this, which is the biggest shame of all. I don't want to see the world turn into one giant Tesco, everything disposable with no style or substance.
Now then, where's me flat cap and whippet?
Tuesday, 27 March 2012
Time flying away
And so spring comes once again. The clocks have gone forward, the daffodils are out. Let's just hope that, for once, we're not having our summer in March and April, as I'd quite like a summer during the summer this year.
We've only been in our house six years but we're starting to get there with it at long last. The kitchen is now painted, the yard has been fixed up and painted, the rubbish from the building work has finally gone in the skip. My fire pit is back out of the shed and I have big logs of wood to set fire to in it. It's really quite nice to sit out in the yard and think about a job well done. At least for now, the trouble with these houses is that something else always needs doing.
It's actually been enjoyable doing the painting and the lifting, it's been good to take my mind off the stresses of life with a bit of manual labour. Taxing enough to have to concentrate but not so much that it needs a lot of thought. Brainless activity followed by a well earned glass of wine is just what the doctor ordered. Probably.
I'd love to know where the time goes. If you find it, could you let me have it back?
We've only been in our house six years but we're starting to get there with it at long last. The kitchen is now painted, the yard has been fixed up and painted, the rubbish from the building work has finally gone in the skip. My fire pit is back out of the shed and I have big logs of wood to set fire to in it. It's really quite nice to sit out in the yard and think about a job well done. At least for now, the trouble with these houses is that something else always needs doing.
It's actually been enjoyable doing the painting and the lifting, it's been good to take my mind off the stresses of life with a bit of manual labour. Taxing enough to have to concentrate but not so much that it needs a lot of thought. Brainless activity followed by a well earned glass of wine is just what the doctor ordered. Probably.
I'd love to know where the time goes. If you find it, could you let me have it back?
Saturday, 17 March 2012
Weekends in the sunshine
Last weekend saw the first signs of spring on the horizon and, even better, I had a long weekend booked off work.
Firstly we went to The Alnwick Garden where we saw some fountains
and we had a splash in all the water.
We got just a little bit soggy
Firstly we went to The Alnwick Garden where we saw some fountains
which we could even run through
and we had a splash in all the water.
We got just a little bit soggy
and then we drove home.
Sunday, the weather was even better so a trip to Beamish Museum, a place all northerners will remember from their schooldays. We went to the sweet shop, had a lovely picnic, rode on some trams
saw some horses and met a lovely lady feeding some hens.
We even had time to have a pitstop on the way back.
Thursday, 23 February 2012
On Welfare Reform
Something that's been tickling me for ages is how many people seem to think that the Government's welfare reforms actually will make things better for vulnerable people.
I'll start by admitting something quite uncomfortable: there's quite a bit of it I agree with. I cannot live in the Lake District- where my wife is from- or Central London because I cannot afford it. I therefore don't see why people who have never worked should be able to live there, their rent paid for by me. I had to move somewhere cheaper because of my wage, my wife the same, so I don't see why everyone else shouldn't. That's life. As for the argument about it affecting "larger families": good. I have one child because my house is too small for more, and I cannot afford a bigger house. I have one child because I can only afford one child. If another person wants five or six children then fine, that's their choice. Providing they pay for them. If they don't then that's their problem.
However when you look deeper into things, the populism of that viewpoint starts to unravel.
Take the reform into the "new simple" Universal Credit. The way the benefit is calculated is amazing: you take a personal allowance, an allowance for children, an allowance if you're unable to work (very different to being disabled) and an allowance for your housing costs. You then have a disregard on your income of anywhere between £700 and £9000, depending on your circumstances. Unless you have housing costs, in which case that disregard is removed at the rate of £1.50 for every £1 of housing costs help you get. After the disregard you lose 65p of benefit for every £1 you earn. Confused? I am, and I'm an experienced welfare benefits specialist adviser.
When the policy idea first came out of one Iain Duncan Smith's "think tank", they reckoned that the minimum to help "hard working families" was a reduction in benefit of 55p for every £1 earned; I'd expect it to be a smaller reduction than that, unless taxation is radically altered. So the Government have added 10% to that and expect people to swallow that? The fact that people have, willingly, seems to justify Governmental pessimism about the nation's intelligence.
It gets even better with Personal Independence Payments (PIPs), the replacement for Disability Living Allowance. This new benefit will help disabled people live their lives and engage fully in society, apparently. There's a checklist of things they expect you to be able to do and, if you can't, you get points. Points mean prizes. So far so good. What is surprising is what they award points for and how they define things.
Take dressing. If you cannot dress the top half of your body, you get four points. But if you cannot dress the bottom half of your body, you get three points. You need at least eight points to get the lowest rate support or twelve for the higher rate. So, at least according to this Government, a disabled person can engage fully in society whilst wearing no pants. I'll let you know whether that ever stands up in court as a defence to indecent exposure.
Similarly, take "bathing". If you cannot bathe then you get a shedload of points; if you can, you don't. But they take bathing to mean washing your face, torso and underarms. If you can wash yourself in an armchair using baby wipes then you're ready to engage in society without any help. And the smell of your feet will guarantee you a seat on the bus, so all's well that ends well. And because you're not wearing any trousers the drizzle on the wind will wash everything else down there.
The moral of the story? Don't be so harsh on the man on the bus with cheesy feet and no trousers, the Government have told him that he's fine to be out in society. After all, bankers' bonus pots and Vodafone's profit and loss account are far more important. Remember how we're all in this together, folks.
I'll start by admitting something quite uncomfortable: there's quite a bit of it I agree with. I cannot live in the Lake District- where my wife is from- or Central London because I cannot afford it. I therefore don't see why people who have never worked should be able to live there, their rent paid for by me. I had to move somewhere cheaper because of my wage, my wife the same, so I don't see why everyone else shouldn't. That's life. As for the argument about it affecting "larger families": good. I have one child because my house is too small for more, and I cannot afford a bigger house. I have one child because I can only afford one child. If another person wants five or six children then fine, that's their choice. Providing they pay for them. If they don't then that's their problem.
However when you look deeper into things, the populism of that viewpoint starts to unravel.
Take the reform into the "new simple" Universal Credit. The way the benefit is calculated is amazing: you take a personal allowance, an allowance for children, an allowance if you're unable to work (very different to being disabled) and an allowance for your housing costs. You then have a disregard on your income of anywhere between £700 and £9000, depending on your circumstances. Unless you have housing costs, in which case that disregard is removed at the rate of £1.50 for every £1 of housing costs help you get. After the disregard you lose 65p of benefit for every £1 you earn. Confused? I am, and I'm an experienced welfare benefits specialist adviser.
When the policy idea first came out of one Iain Duncan Smith's "think tank", they reckoned that the minimum to help "hard working families" was a reduction in benefit of 55p for every £1 earned; I'd expect it to be a smaller reduction than that, unless taxation is radically altered. So the Government have added 10% to that and expect people to swallow that? The fact that people have, willingly, seems to justify Governmental pessimism about the nation's intelligence.
It gets even better with Personal Independence Payments (PIPs), the replacement for Disability Living Allowance. This new benefit will help disabled people live their lives and engage fully in society, apparently. There's a checklist of things they expect you to be able to do and, if you can't, you get points. Points mean prizes. So far so good. What is surprising is what they award points for and how they define things.
Take dressing. If you cannot dress the top half of your body, you get four points. But if you cannot dress the bottom half of your body, you get three points. You need at least eight points to get the lowest rate support or twelve for the higher rate. So, at least according to this Government, a disabled person can engage fully in society whilst wearing no pants. I'll let you know whether that ever stands up in court as a defence to indecent exposure.
Similarly, take "bathing". If you cannot bathe then you get a shedload of points; if you can, you don't. But they take bathing to mean washing your face, torso and underarms. If you can wash yourself in an armchair using baby wipes then you're ready to engage in society without any help. And the smell of your feet will guarantee you a seat on the bus, so all's well that ends well. And because you're not wearing any trousers the drizzle on the wind will wash everything else down there.
The moral of the story? Don't be so harsh on the man on the bus with cheesy feet and no trousers, the Government have told him that he's fine to be out in society. After all, bankers' bonus pots and Vodafone's profit and loss account are far more important. Remember how we're all in this together, folks.
Monday, 13 February 2012
Up to the rigs and down to the jigs in London Town
It's been a while since we have been away, so we trekked off to London this weekend. Ostensibly it was to visit the Queen (not really) but really it was to go see Sodbaby's Godmother M and comprehensively quality test her cocktail cabinet.
Well, Sodbaby had a wonderful time. She saw the Queen's house ("who's the fairest of them all? ME"), she saw lots of squirrels, she saw some lions and tigers at the Zoo. She saw Peter Pan's big clock at Westminster. She made friends on the train, friends on the bus, friends on the tube (city types playing boo FTW), friends in the canteen at HM Treasury. And she was spoiled rotten by M and her husband, who Sodbaby decided should be called The Postman.
There's just something about that girl and I'm really not sure what it is. She's clever and pretty (I'm her father, I would say that) bit that's not it. She just has presence, she makes friends everywhere, she gets strangers on rush hour tube trains playing with her. I don't know how she does it. I'm so proud of her. As her Godmother says, she's skipped the Princess stage and gone straight for Empress.
It was wonderful to get away and so nice to see old friends. It's this sort of weekend that makes me sad all my friends are scattered to the four winds. I just don't get to see everyone as often as I'd like. The only positive is at least that having a friend in every town saves on hotel bills, and I'm enough of a dab hand at rail tickets to snaffle a bargain. It's just finding time to see everyone.
On a tangent, Sodbaby will be two next month. She's not really a baby anymore, as anyone who knows her will testify. Ideas on what to call her? She thinks ma'am will do but I'm not quite ready for that yet...
Well, Sodbaby had a wonderful time. She saw the Queen's house ("who's the fairest of them all? ME"), she saw lots of squirrels, she saw some lions and tigers at the Zoo. She saw Peter Pan's big clock at Westminster. She made friends on the train, friends on the bus, friends on the tube (city types playing boo FTW), friends in the canteen at HM Treasury. And she was spoiled rotten by M and her husband, who Sodbaby decided should be called The Postman.
There's just something about that girl and I'm really not sure what it is. She's clever and pretty (I'm her father, I would say that) bit that's not it. She just has presence, she makes friends everywhere, she gets strangers on rush hour tube trains playing with her. I don't know how she does it. I'm so proud of her. As her Godmother says, she's skipped the Princess stage and gone straight for Empress.
It was wonderful to get away and so nice to see old friends. It's this sort of weekend that makes me sad all my friends are scattered to the four winds. I just don't get to see everyone as often as I'd like. The only positive is at least that having a friend in every town saves on hotel bills, and I'm enough of a dab hand at rail tickets to snaffle a bargain. It's just finding time to see everyone.
On a tangent, Sodbaby will be two next month. She's not really a baby anymore, as anyone who knows her will testify. Ideas on what to call her? She thinks ma'am will do but I'm not quite ready for that yet...
Monday, 21 November 2011
Weddings and getting that little bit older
It turns out that I'm not really all that good at this updating my blog malarkey. No post since August you say? Ah well, nothing interesting happened anyway. Honest.
This evening I'm being a bit retrospective and a bit whimsical. Partially this is due to a long train and coach journey home, partially due to drinking far too much chianti last night. But mostly it's to do with the reasons why I've been travelling around the country on slow trains and Arriva buses and why I've been trying to drown myself in lovely red wine.
I've just returned from the wedding of M, Rosie's Godmother, who I've known almost as long as I've known Ella. We became friends in a dark part of my life, I don't mind admitting as much, and seem to have stayed like that ever since. She's been in my life at the important stages- our wedding, Rosie- and put us up (or put up with us, one of the two...) across Europe throughout the years. I'd like to think the feeling's mutual, but I wouldn't dream of being so egotistical.
It was a wonderful day, truly wonderful, and it was a genuine honour to be invited to share it with her and her new husband and their families. What made it even better was being invited to share it with lots of other mutual friends, people that we never see very often because they are scattered to the four winds.
I always feel that weddings are as much about gratitude for the past- for the relationships that get you to where you are now- as they are about optimism for the future. And this event was no different for me at all. We have friends through M and M has friends through us, that much is a fact, and it was lovely to be in the same room as all the people. It happens so rarely, there were people at the wedding that I have not seen for eight or nine years. The best bit was picking up the conversation as though there'd been no gap at all. It was delightful to curl up in the corner with a bottle of red and reminisce- who knows who from where, how on earth our lives crossed, and gosh, just how grown up aren't we all?
Many of the people I'm friends with in this group are "internet friends" from long before it was fashionable or common to have friends through email, from long before Facebook or Twitter. Until very recently I wouldn't have dared admit that, lest I'd be seen as a complete freak. In a lot of ways there hasn't been a gap in the conversation, through blogging and emails and everything that goes with it, we know as much (if not more) about each other than if we lived on the next street to each other. I think it's genuinely amazing to have these relationships with these fantastic people, people I'd never have normally met, and it's genuinely amazing to see where life's taken us all. These are people I've known since I was 17 or 18, when did we all get grown up?
It's just a fantastic feeling to be in a big room full of friends, getting loudly drunk and dancing. A ceilidh band and a bottle of wine always helps. I've come back with a real buzz and it wasn't even my big day, though I've been moved to dig out the photos of our big day all those years ago and see the same (younger) faces smiling back.
I suppose all I can say is that days and weekends like this make me appreciate what I have, they make me reminisce about where I've come from, and they make me grateful that people want to share this with me. I've been married to Ella for over six and a half years now, with a beautiful and intelligent and belligerent daughter in tow, and weddings make me so glad I have this. They make me glad and I can only hope the married couple share the same joy I've had in married life.
This evening I'm being a bit retrospective and a bit whimsical. Partially this is due to a long train and coach journey home, partially due to drinking far too much chianti last night. But mostly it's to do with the reasons why I've been travelling around the country on slow trains and Arriva buses and why I've been trying to drown myself in lovely red wine.
I've just returned from the wedding of M, Rosie's Godmother, who I've known almost as long as I've known Ella. We became friends in a dark part of my life, I don't mind admitting as much, and seem to have stayed like that ever since. She's been in my life at the important stages- our wedding, Rosie- and put us up (or put up with us, one of the two...) across Europe throughout the years. I'd like to think the feeling's mutual, but I wouldn't dream of being so egotistical.
It was a wonderful day, truly wonderful, and it was a genuine honour to be invited to share it with her and her new husband and their families. What made it even better was being invited to share it with lots of other mutual friends, people that we never see very often because they are scattered to the four winds.
I always feel that weddings are as much about gratitude for the past- for the relationships that get you to where you are now- as they are about optimism for the future. And this event was no different for me at all. We have friends through M and M has friends through us, that much is a fact, and it was lovely to be in the same room as all the people. It happens so rarely, there were people at the wedding that I have not seen for eight or nine years. The best bit was picking up the conversation as though there'd been no gap at all. It was delightful to curl up in the corner with a bottle of red and reminisce- who knows who from where, how on earth our lives crossed, and gosh, just how grown up aren't we all?
Many of the people I'm friends with in this group are "internet friends" from long before it was fashionable or common to have friends through email, from long before Facebook or Twitter. Until very recently I wouldn't have dared admit that, lest I'd be seen as a complete freak. In a lot of ways there hasn't been a gap in the conversation, through blogging and emails and everything that goes with it, we know as much (if not more) about each other than if we lived on the next street to each other. I think it's genuinely amazing to have these relationships with these fantastic people, people I'd never have normally met, and it's genuinely amazing to see where life's taken us all. These are people I've known since I was 17 or 18, when did we all get grown up?
It's just a fantastic feeling to be in a big room full of friends, getting loudly drunk and dancing. A ceilidh band and a bottle of wine always helps. I've come back with a real buzz and it wasn't even my big day, though I've been moved to dig out the photos of our big day all those years ago and see the same (younger) faces smiling back.
I suppose all I can say is that days and weekends like this make me appreciate what I have, they make me reminisce about where I've come from, and they make me grateful that people want to share this with me. I've been married to Ella for over six and a half years now, with a beautiful and intelligent and belligerent daughter in tow, and weddings make me so glad I have this. They make me glad and I can only hope the married couple share the same joy I've had in married life.
Tuesday, 9 August 2011
Politics and Looting and whatnot
Part of me is loathe to start talking about politics on here because I don't want to be writing a political blog. There are plenty of those already written by people far more eloquent than I. However I do have a political interest, it is part of me, I am opinionated and I do despair at where we are going.
The first thing that makes me despair is the idea that the riots in London and Birmingham are somehow a shock or a surprise. They are disgusting and disgraceful but surprising? Hardly. It's been apparent for a very long time that a section of the community has been allowed to move away from society in general to the extent where, now, they don't seem to think that they have any stake in society at all. If you have no stake in something, if you cannot see a situation where you would ever have a stake in something, then what does it matter if you set fire to it? People have a surprising and depressing ability to only feel empathy for those in their own social group, to the extent that they won't feel empathy for those who are 'outside'.
The thing that really makes me despair, though, is the sheer blatant hypocrisy coming out of the political arena. There's talk of "playing by society's rules" yet the Government- and not just the current coalition but the previous Labour and Conservative administrations- consistently and regularly fail to play by society's rules either. The real anger seems to be about the looters helping themselves to things that don't belong to them and about making people homeless due to damage.
However I'm struggling to see what the difference is between smashing Currys' window in and pinching an iPad and submitting an inflated expenses claim to the House of Commons for the purchase of an "essential" iPad. I'm struggling to see what the difference is between making someone homeless due to fire damage and making someone homeless by removing all mortgage or rent support and cutting back on unemployment and incapacity support. It's the same end result: all your stuff is lost and you have to up sticks at short notice. Especially when we consider that the welfare benefit budget cuts for the next three years total about £6billion. Which is the same amount of money Dave Hartnett told Vodafone they needn't worry about paying in tax to the Government.
When it comes down to it Vodafone's actions are really not very different to those of the looters in London. It's about getting something for nothing, failing to pay your share, taking the short cut at the expense of millions of other people. And it doesn't matter whether you lob a brick through JD Sports' window or wine and dine HMRC into "settling amicably", the end result is the same. The most vulnerable people in society will lose their homes and lose their support so that Vodafone directors can get a bigger bonus this year. There's no moral or ethical difference between taking a bonus that doesn't belong to you and taking an iPad that doesn't belong to you.
It surprises me how businesses are allowed to get away with this corporate thievery with barely a whisper yet we propose calling in the Army because someone nicked a plasma TV. Why aren't we calling for Dave Hartnett to be pelted with rubber bullets? Where are the calls for Fred Goodwin, or Adam Applegarth, or any of the other rich and powerful CEOs, to be locked up without chance of parole? That's where the real destruction is.
The Government can't argue that we should abide by the social contract when they, and their cronies, make precious little effort to abide by the social contract themselves.
The first thing that makes me despair is the idea that the riots in London and Birmingham are somehow a shock or a surprise. They are disgusting and disgraceful but surprising? Hardly. It's been apparent for a very long time that a section of the community has been allowed to move away from society in general to the extent where, now, they don't seem to think that they have any stake in society at all. If you have no stake in something, if you cannot see a situation where you would ever have a stake in something, then what does it matter if you set fire to it? People have a surprising and depressing ability to only feel empathy for those in their own social group, to the extent that they won't feel empathy for those who are 'outside'.
The thing that really makes me despair, though, is the sheer blatant hypocrisy coming out of the political arena. There's talk of "playing by society's rules" yet the Government- and not just the current coalition but the previous Labour and Conservative administrations- consistently and regularly fail to play by society's rules either. The real anger seems to be about the looters helping themselves to things that don't belong to them and about making people homeless due to damage.
However I'm struggling to see what the difference is between smashing Currys' window in and pinching an iPad and submitting an inflated expenses claim to the House of Commons for the purchase of an "essential" iPad. I'm struggling to see what the difference is between making someone homeless due to fire damage and making someone homeless by removing all mortgage or rent support and cutting back on unemployment and incapacity support. It's the same end result: all your stuff is lost and you have to up sticks at short notice. Especially when we consider that the welfare benefit budget cuts for the next three years total about £6billion. Which is the same amount of money Dave Hartnett told Vodafone they needn't worry about paying in tax to the Government.
When it comes down to it Vodafone's actions are really not very different to those of the looters in London. It's about getting something for nothing, failing to pay your share, taking the short cut at the expense of millions of other people. And it doesn't matter whether you lob a brick through JD Sports' window or wine and dine HMRC into "settling amicably", the end result is the same. The most vulnerable people in society will lose their homes and lose their support so that Vodafone directors can get a bigger bonus this year. There's no moral or ethical difference between taking a bonus that doesn't belong to you and taking an iPad that doesn't belong to you.
It surprises me how businesses are allowed to get away with this corporate thievery with barely a whisper yet we propose calling in the Army because someone nicked a plasma TV. Why aren't we calling for Dave Hartnett to be pelted with rubber bullets? Where are the calls for Fred Goodwin, or Adam Applegarth, or any of the other rich and powerful CEOs, to be locked up without chance of parole? That's where the real destruction is.
The Government can't argue that we should abide by the social contract when they, and their cronies, make precious little effort to abide by the social contract themselves.
Wednesday, 3 August 2011
On changing appearances
I've always been big. If I were being blunt, I'd even say fat. I was as a child, I was as a teenager, I was at University. But in the last 18 months or so I've lost the thick end of six stone through a combination of gym, exercise and eating less junk, and I feel a lot healthier and a lot better. I've still got another couple of stone to go I reckon, and I'm almost embarrassed to admit how much I've lost, but I am starting to feel a little bit more confident. Combined with switching back to contact lenses and shaving off my beard (even though E says she liked it) I apparently look ten years younger.
And all without having to go anywhere near a psychopathic South African on channel four.
But I'm not entirely sure what to do with the new, smaller, me because men's fashion at the minute is a bit, well, crap. I've spent so long wearing dark colours and hiding away I want to be brighter but clothes in the high street seem to either be beige or florid now. I want to be brighter but I don't want to look like a sex pest. I also don't mind slim fit stuff but I'm never going to be narrow (my shoulders are mostly muscle and mostly not going anywhere now) and the emo/Russell Brand school of sartorial elegance just looks ridiculous on me.
I bought a three-piece suit from Matalan (of all places) following persuasion from E and I think it looks pretty good, especially with a nice bright shirt.
And all without having to go anywhere near a psychopathic South African on channel four.
But I'm not entirely sure what to do with the new, smaller, me because men's fashion at the minute is a bit, well, crap. I've spent so long wearing dark colours and hiding away I want to be brighter but clothes in the high street seem to either be beige or florid now. I want to be brighter but I don't want to look like a sex pest. I also don't mind slim fit stuff but I'm never going to be narrow (my shoulders are mostly muscle and mostly not going anywhere now) and the emo/Russell Brand school of sartorial elegance just looks ridiculous on me.
I bought a three-piece suit from Matalan (of all places) following persuasion from E and I think it looks pretty good, especially with a nice bright shirt.
This is all well and good when I'm "dressed to impress" but not really so good for swanning about town on Saturday mornings with Sod Baby.
I like the idea of a nice graphic t-shirt together with some good jeans and a linen jacket, a graphic t-shirt of this style:
I can't help but feel that this is just a bit bland, though. I'd sooner be bland than florid, but I just want something a bit more interesting. E is a proper vintage girl, as anyone who sees her knows and comments. I don't want to wear something straight out of the pages of The Chap but I don't want to be drab next to someone so colourful. I need ideas and inspiration and, to be honest, I'm just not getting that from the high street.
Excuse me for a while whilst I go and stroke my satchel from Karina Hesketh. I'm getting there.
Sunday, 31 July 2011
Hello!
Sit down, grab a mug of tea and a slice of cake and let me introduce myself.
I'm David, I'm married to the delectable Ella and father to the even more delectable Sod Baby (OK, she's called Rosie really, but that doesn't have the same ring to it.
Things have been really hectic chez David this last couple of weeks and I'm desperately wishing it wasn't Monday morning tomorrow. Rosie has been away at my mother-in-law's in Cumbria for the last two weeks, for various complicated and convoluted reasons involving childcare, and I took the opportunity last weekend to go out with her Godfather and drink too much beer. Then it was on to a train to Stratford upon Avon for three days; sadly it was very much work not pleasure, but I did get to meet my friend Helen and her two boys after the work was done. I haven't seen her for about six years, in which time she's got married, emigrated to Australia, moved back and had two sons. There was a lot to catch up on, far more than two hours drinking tea by the river could do justice (especially with two adorable, intelligent and demanding toddlers in tow), but it was wonderful just to see them all and sit in the sun. Stratford really is such a beautiful town.
There was just enough time to indulge my inner (well, not so inner) train geek in Birmingham and then it was off to Cumbria to see Sod Baby and the in laws.
First up it was a day out in Kendal. Ella's from there originally and it still pains her mum that they ever left, but we haven't actually been there for years. There was little rhyme or reason for Kendal other than it is halfway between my parents' home in Bradford and the in laws' in the Lake District and my mum and dad haven't see Rosie for even longer than me. Rosie took care of the driving...
and it was just nice to potter about a pretty town in the hot sunshine and drink lots of lovely coffee and at ice cream and salad and cake. Ella even managed to find a vintage clothing shop, although I swear she'd be able to find one of those on the moon if she put her mind to it.
Saturday night was going out in Carlisle for a curry with Ella's schoolfriend Becky and several of her friends. I got extra Lovely Husband points by being designated driver whilst Ella and her brother had champagne cocktails and Morgan's Spiced rum and I got extra The Chap points by taking "dress to impress" literally and going out in a full three piece suit.
And now I'm back home without Ella and without Sod Baby, sipping a cider, watching the grand prix and trying to remember why I was so sniffy about Orbital's music when I was a teenager. I love my job but can someone please arrange it so that I can take my bed to work tomorrow?
I'm David, I'm married to the delectable Ella and father to the even more delectable Sod Baby (OK, she's called Rosie really, but that doesn't have the same ring to it.
Things have been really hectic chez David this last couple of weeks and I'm desperately wishing it wasn't Monday morning tomorrow. Rosie has been away at my mother-in-law's in Cumbria for the last two weeks, for various complicated and convoluted reasons involving childcare, and I took the opportunity last weekend to go out with her Godfather and drink too much beer. Then it was on to a train to Stratford upon Avon for three days; sadly it was very much work not pleasure, but I did get to meet my friend Helen and her two boys after the work was done. I haven't seen her for about six years, in which time she's got married, emigrated to Australia, moved back and had two sons. There was a lot to catch up on, far more than two hours drinking tea by the river could do justice (especially with two adorable, intelligent and demanding toddlers in tow), but it was wonderful just to see them all and sit in the sun. Stratford really is such a beautiful town.
There was just enough time to indulge my inner (well, not so inner) train geek in Birmingham and then it was off to Cumbria to see Sod Baby and the in laws.
First up it was a day out in Kendal. Ella's from there originally and it still pains her mum that they ever left, but we haven't actually been there for years. There was little rhyme or reason for Kendal other than it is halfway between my parents' home in Bradford and the in laws' in the Lake District and my mum and dad haven't see Rosie for even longer than me. Rosie took care of the driving...
and it was just nice to potter about a pretty town in the hot sunshine and drink lots of lovely coffee and at ice cream and salad and cake. Ella even managed to find a vintage clothing shop, although I swear she'd be able to find one of those on the moon if she put her mind to it.
Saturday night was going out in Carlisle for a curry with Ella's schoolfriend Becky and several of her friends. I got extra Lovely Husband points by being designated driver whilst Ella and her brother had champagne cocktails and Morgan's Spiced rum and I got extra The Chap points by taking "dress to impress" literally and going out in a full three piece suit.
And now I'm back home without Ella and without Sod Baby, sipping a cider, watching the grand prix and trying to remember why I was so sniffy about Orbital's music when I was a teenager. I love my job but can someone please arrange it so that I can take my bed to work tomorrow?
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