Breakfast duly happened at 7:30, and we were on the road by 8. One of the boys had twisted his knee badly, and the decision was taken that he would not walk in the mountains, but could do the road section if he wanted. The first setback was that no packed lunches were forthcoming. Walker John couldn’t remember if he had ordered them, so I was detailed to collect some sandwiches.
But disaster struck on the Banchory to Ballater road. There had been a serious accident and the police had closed the road. By the time we got to the start point, it was nearly 10 o’clock. I was supposed to be back in Banchory before then for a meeting with the Chairman of the Gurkha Welfare Trust , not to mention Mrs. Lear. By the time Dugundra and I had a signal on our mobiles, it was after 10:30. I phoned Mrs. Lear and asked her to pick up sandwiches, foot-plasters, sport drinks and 8 Sunday Times’ - provided we were in it.
By the time I got round the diversion, and back to the Royal British Legion it was 11:30. We were in the ST, and a very handsome article and photograph it was too. Mrs. Lear and the Chairman and his wife just had time to hand over the supplies, grab a cup of coffee and have a quick chat, and then Dugundra and I had to set off to make RV1 in Glen Esk.
It took us an hour and a half to get there. Through the mountains on 14%, 16%, 18% gradients we trundled, with the lights on as the mist closed in. Once we got down the other side, we might have been in the home counties. A microclimate in Glen Esk means that it is extremely lush and rich. The village of Fettercairn even has expensive restaurants and dress shops, and the Milden Estate is the most perfectly looked after example of the genre.
We met the boys a mile After they had passed RV1 - we were early, but without injuries they had made great time and were even earlier. Sandwiches were consumed, energy drinks gulped and they set of again, accompanied by Dugundra who felt better without the knee bandage.
They only had about 2 miles to do to get to Angus Davidson’s house, who traditionally asks most of the valley to early tea to meet the Ghurkhas - and hand over a cheque. 77 years old, he was an ex-Gordon Highlander ( everyone around the area over 60 was, and lots over 35 as well) who had farmed his family acres since his father died. His sister lived next door, about a mile away, and had brought home-made sausage rolls that were delicious. Walker John presented him with one of our “ Gurkha Highlander 2008” caps. He was delighted. He immediately took off his decrepit bunnet, and proudly sported his new acquisition.
After the usual photo session, the walkers took their leave and I made my way along the road to a place called “ The Retreat”. It consisted of a museum, coffee shop, internet business centre and gift shop. It was excellent, and had been the idea of Margaret Michie, to preserve what Glen Esk had been. Between 1850 and 1900 the population had fallen by 75%, but thereafter had managed to remain reasonably stable to the present day. By the time I’d finished there, the boys had caught up with me. I overtook them again. On the way to RV2 I spotted a lady walker limping being supported by two middle-aged men. I stopped to discover they were making for Edzell, but the lady had twisted her ankle. There was just enough time take them, and the lady made a donation as I dropped them off.
I made it back to RV2 at Milden with 5 minutes to spare. Milden has been bought by a hedge fund manager, who has spent millions upgrtading the estate, its cottages and employing additional people on it. They were having a cricket matchj - Guests versus Estate Workers as I passed.
By the time we got back to Banchory, there was a welcoming committee. I shooed the boys upstairs to wash and change and told everyone they would be back in half an hour. The Chairman of Banchory RBL Club, John Duguid, offered us a free meal, which I gladly accepted, and when the boys came down, a quick photo session resulted in a cheque for £200.
A pleasant lady came up to me and asked if I could get the Gurkhas to speak to her father. Louis MacNeil was 86, and had been in 5 Gurkha during the war. They had fought their way through the jungle for over 1200 miles, from Assam, though Malaya, and thereafter back to India. At Indian partition, 5 Gurkha was one of the regiments which stayed in the Indian Army, and so he had transferred to 5 Para. The boys were delighted to talk to a REAL old soldier, and we spent nearly an hour with him chatting. His daughter was overcome with emotion, as he had so wanted to meet Gurkhas again.We left them reluctantly, but had to get some food into the walkers before they started fainting.
They were all in bed by 9:30.
166 down, 26 to go.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Gurkha Highlander - Day 6
We had a leisurely breakfast at Mary Morgan’s , but I managed to get the boys walking by 09:35 back at Victoria Bridge. This wasn’t helped by a a digger appearing just as we were about to leave and parking in the middle of the road. Mary kindly gave us directions to get out at the other end of the road. It was a dry day with a light breeze. The midges, which had been almost unbearable in the far west ( even with midge nets on) had slowly eased off the further East we went,and by Royal Deeside they were not at all troubling. It was almost as if the Royal family had some secret weapon to keep them away.
My first job was to check if a particular bridge was there and meet up with the walkers at 10:30 before they were committed to a particular path, just in case it was down. Fortunately it was solid, and I duly reported back at RV1 which was at the Braemar Golf Club. The lads walked on and I went into Ballater once more.The boys were climbing Lochnagar behind Balmoral - a hard slog both up and down.
One of the commissions I had was to buy some chillies. There had been none at the hotel the night before, and so I went in search of some in Ballater. Duly acquired, more bananas and isotonic drinks were needed too.
I did a recce of RV2, which was at Spittal of Glenmuick. This is deep in Balmoral Estate, and has a well presented information centre and various necessary facilities. On the way in is a stone tablet, commemorating the Gordon Highlanders meeting up with Queen Victoria in 1899. You can feel the honour and pride in the wording, and the pathos in the final lines which mention that they embarked for South Africa and the Boer War shortly thereafter, and the Colonel and many men perished there.
Walker John texted me from the summit of Lochnagar to tell me that there was a 50 mph wind and it was freezing. I stayed where I could get a signal just in case there were any more, but the only call was from Susan at the Inver Hotel. She had decided to substitute apple crumble for ice cream - something that would bring joy to Walker John, who had tried to get a crumble or a pie all week. Everywhere we had been it was on the menu, but never available.
The plan had been to meet up with Mrs. Lear and the Chairman of the Gurkha Welfare Trust and his wife at the Royal British Legion at Banchory, where we were due to stay, but the late start and the injury to a knee of one of the boys meant that the walkers didn’t get off the hill until 6:30 ( two hours late). As a result we decided to go straight to the Inver Hotel, where our dinner was waiting.
As we drove up Colonel Rose, an ex-Gurkha officer, was waiting at the door for us. The boys jumped out and they were greeted in Gurkhali - the Colonel had been a career officer for 30 years so spoke it well. As they went in, his grandsons played the bagpipes most excellently, and the walkers were clapped in by the assembled guests. Angus Farquharson, Lord Lieutenant of Aberdeenshire and Kincardine, greeted them, and after the boys had cleaned up a bit we all sat down to another excellent meal. At the end of it, Walker John gave a short speech, I received a cheque, and then the Gurkhas started singing some of their marching songs - which the Colonel joined in enthusiastically. He then took to the pipes himself, playing stirring tunes which brought whoops from the boys - they were Ghurka battle tunes. His grandsons played a tune or two, and then, sadly, it was time to leave.
When we got to the RBL just before 11pm, there was huge party in full swing. We were warned that the band had pyrotechnics and as a result the fire alarm would go off a couple of times around midnight. The RBL at Banchory is one of only two RBL clubs in Britain which have rooms - the other is at Turriff, not that far from Banchory.
We were all fast asleep when the first “BLEEP” hit us - and the next and the next, for about 10 minutes. Fortunately it finally stopped and we all groaned and turned over.
I annoyed Walker John by NOT snoring - as he said, if I was snoring he could tell me to wake up. Unfortunately I was just doing the odd grunt, so he felt he couldn’t wake me - but he did eventually anyway.
143 miles down, 48 to go.
I've done over 1100 in the van and probably another 450 or so to do in the next couple of days.
My first job was to check if a particular bridge was there and meet up with the walkers at 10:30 before they were committed to a particular path, just in case it was down. Fortunately it was solid, and I duly reported back at RV1 which was at the Braemar Golf Club. The lads walked on and I went into Ballater once more.The boys were climbing Lochnagar behind Balmoral - a hard slog both up and down.
One of the commissions I had was to buy some chillies. There had been none at the hotel the night before, and so I went in search of some in Ballater. Duly acquired, more bananas and isotonic drinks were needed too.
I did a recce of RV2, which was at Spittal of Glenmuick. This is deep in Balmoral Estate, and has a well presented information centre and various necessary facilities. On the way in is a stone tablet, commemorating the Gordon Highlanders meeting up with Queen Victoria in 1899. You can feel the honour and pride in the wording, and the pathos in the final lines which mention that they embarked for South Africa and the Boer War shortly thereafter, and the Colonel and many men perished there.
Walker John texted me from the summit of Lochnagar to tell me that there was a 50 mph wind and it was freezing. I stayed where I could get a signal just in case there were any more, but the only call was from Susan at the Inver Hotel. She had decided to substitute apple crumble for ice cream - something that would bring joy to Walker John, who had tried to get a crumble or a pie all week. Everywhere we had been it was on the menu, but never available.
The plan had been to meet up with Mrs. Lear and the Chairman of the Gurkha Welfare Trust and his wife at the Royal British Legion at Banchory, where we were due to stay, but the late start and the injury to a knee of one of the boys meant that the walkers didn’t get off the hill until 6:30 ( two hours late). As a result we decided to go straight to the Inver Hotel, where our dinner was waiting.
As we drove up Colonel Rose, an ex-Gurkha officer, was waiting at the door for us. The boys jumped out and they were greeted in Gurkhali - the Colonel had been a career officer for 30 years so spoke it well. As they went in, his grandsons played the bagpipes most excellently, and the walkers were clapped in by the assembled guests. Angus Farquharson, Lord Lieutenant of Aberdeenshire and Kincardine, greeted them, and after the boys had cleaned up a bit we all sat down to another excellent meal. At the end of it, Walker John gave a short speech, I received a cheque, and then the Gurkhas started singing some of their marching songs - which the Colonel joined in enthusiastically. He then took to the pipes himself, playing stirring tunes which brought whoops from the boys - they were Ghurka battle tunes. His grandsons played a tune or two, and then, sadly, it was time to leave.
When we got to the RBL just before 11pm, there was huge party in full swing. We were warned that the band had pyrotechnics and as a result the fire alarm would go off a couple of times around midnight. The RBL at Banchory is one of only two RBL clubs in Britain which have rooms - the other is at Turriff, not that far from Banchory.
We were all fast asleep when the first “BLEEP” hit us - and the next and the next, for about 10 minutes. Fortunately it finally stopped and we all groaned and turned over.
I annoyed Walker John by NOT snoring - as he said, if I was snoring he could tell me to wake up. Unfortunately I was just doing the odd grunt, so he felt he couldn’t wake me - but he did eventually anyway.
143 miles down, 48 to go.
I've done over 1100 in the van and probably another 450 or so to do in the next couple of days.
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Gurkha Highlander - the Big One - Day 5
It was still dark as the boys divvied up the packed lunches and loaded their bags into the back of the van. Breakfast had been enlivened by the fact that the toaster would not stay down without someone’s finger on the plunger. Even so, we were driving before 05:30, and made the layby at Cuaich before 06:30. The rain was lashing down, and I shook hands with them all as they headed up the path into the wilderness.
I heard later that until about 11 the rain kept up, but just as they got to Glen Feshie the weather cleared and allowed them that most stunning vista.
I had other things that needed doing. More knee supports, and more Compeed plasters and zinc oxide tape. I set off south as I had to take the long way round over Glenshee, which was misty and extremely cold.
I spent the day checking into our B& B, and checking out the Inver Hotel at Crathie , where we were to eat a late dinner. From there I drove on into Ballater to do my shopping and use the internet.. On the way back, there was great activity beside Balmoral. There was a photo-shoot which included the Queen and Camilla. Camilla in particular looked very smart, and she and Charles looked most relaxed and happy. They amuse me as a couple. They could almost be teenagers in love.
I got back to the B&B about 4 and started to make tea to put into flasks to take to the boys when they made RV1, which today was Linn o’ Dee. This is a fantastic ravine, carved by the rushing waters into extraordinary shapes, and spanned by a bridge opened by Queen Victoria. It sits in the Mar Estate, managed by the Scottish National Trust, and surrounded by signs saying how dangerous it is. As I sat waiting for the walkers, red squirrels ran about, deer trotted across the path and grouse called their unmistakable “ Go-Back! Go-Back!”
The boys finally appeared out of the rain at 7:20 pm having walked just under 13 hours. They fell on the tea and food I had prepared for them.
“ Oh Lear sahib, you are like angel! ” - and then they set off again to do the last hour and take their tally to just over 40 miles for the day. Captain Rajen was wearing flip-flops -” Can’t be bothered with these boots anymore sahib.”
Because they were wet, the flip-flops were making a sort of quacking noise, and with his hill stick, he was making good progress.
One of the boys suddenly shouted “ What looks like Mahatma Ghandi and sounds like a duck?“ In unison the rest of them shouted “ CAPTAIN SAHIB” and all roared with laughter. As Walker John said, they might start slowly in the morning,but ask them to put a bit of speed on after 20 miles and they were over the horizon before you could kukri. There had been a point when the mist had descended and they had had to use compass bearings to see them through. Of course, for the Gurkhas it was almost superfluous, as they have an instinct for the mountains and for the way to travel.At one point they had come to a stream which was too wide to cross - or so Walker John thought.. He was ready to make a mile detour to a bridge when Capt. Rajen said “ No sahib, let Lal have a look.” Whereupon Lal trotted up and down the bank a bit, and suddenly started leaping in a zig-zag across the river. He’d found the only way across, which was unmarked on any map. The boys had no problems once they’d seen Lal do it and were across in an instant. Walker John had a much more difficult time, with the boys shouting encouragement, and continually telling him the wrong way to jump. They were most disappointed when he didn’t fall in.
By the time they got to RV2 at Victoria Bridge,they were all really cold and wet. I shook all their hands as they got into the van and congratulated them on a fantastic effort. We were only 10 minutes from Mary Morgan’s B&B in Braemar,and after a quick wash and change we set off for the Inver Hotel.
There,a group of Englishmen were having dinner. They were up for the grouse. As soon as they saw us, and realised we were Gurkhas,the leader rushed over and emptied his wallet. Susan Snell, who owns the hotel, insisted on paying for our dinner, which it will not surprise you to learn was curry, and was excellent. Susan used to be a serious tennis player, and took the hotel over 3 years ago, coming from the south for a complete change of lifestyle, She seems to be thriving.
Breakfast is not until 8am, as its only about 20 miles tomorrow - but that includes Lochnagar, which is the only Ben in Scotland called a Loch. From the summit you can look straight down into Balmoral itself.
Can’t help but feel there ought to be a security guard up there to prevent snipers.
126 miles down, about 66 to go.
I heard later that until about 11 the rain kept up, but just as they got to Glen Feshie the weather cleared and allowed them that most stunning vista.
I had other things that needed doing. More knee supports, and more Compeed plasters and zinc oxide tape. I set off south as I had to take the long way round over Glenshee, which was misty and extremely cold.
I spent the day checking into our B& B, and checking out the Inver Hotel at Crathie , where we were to eat a late dinner. From there I drove on into Ballater to do my shopping and use the internet.. On the way back, there was great activity beside Balmoral. There was a photo-shoot which included the Queen and Camilla. Camilla in particular looked very smart, and she and Charles looked most relaxed and happy. They amuse me as a couple. They could almost be teenagers in love.
I got back to the B&B about 4 and started to make tea to put into flasks to take to the boys when they made RV1, which today was Linn o’ Dee. This is a fantastic ravine, carved by the rushing waters into extraordinary shapes, and spanned by a bridge opened by Queen Victoria. It sits in the Mar Estate, managed by the Scottish National Trust, and surrounded by signs saying how dangerous it is. As I sat waiting for the walkers, red squirrels ran about, deer trotted across the path and grouse called their unmistakable “ Go-Back! Go-Back!”
The boys finally appeared out of the rain at 7:20 pm having walked just under 13 hours. They fell on the tea and food I had prepared for them.
“ Oh Lear sahib, you are like angel! ” - and then they set off again to do the last hour and take their tally to just over 40 miles for the day. Captain Rajen was wearing flip-flops -” Can’t be bothered with these boots anymore sahib.”
Because they were wet, the flip-flops were making a sort of quacking noise, and with his hill stick, he was making good progress.
One of the boys suddenly shouted “ What looks like Mahatma Ghandi and sounds like a duck?“ In unison the rest of them shouted “ CAPTAIN SAHIB” and all roared with laughter. As Walker John said, they might start slowly in the morning,but ask them to put a bit of speed on after 20 miles and they were over the horizon before you could kukri. There had been a point when the mist had descended and they had had to use compass bearings to see them through. Of course, for the Gurkhas it was almost superfluous, as they have an instinct for the mountains and for the way to travel.At one point they had come to a stream which was too wide to cross - or so Walker John thought.. He was ready to make a mile detour to a bridge when Capt. Rajen said “ No sahib, let Lal have a look.” Whereupon Lal trotted up and down the bank a bit, and suddenly started leaping in a zig-zag across the river. He’d found the only way across, which was unmarked on any map. The boys had no problems once they’d seen Lal do it and were across in an instant. Walker John had a much more difficult time, with the boys shouting encouragement, and continually telling him the wrong way to jump. They were most disappointed when he didn’t fall in.
By the time they got to RV2 at Victoria Bridge,they were all really cold and wet. I shook all their hands as they got into the van and congratulated them on a fantastic effort. We were only 10 minutes from Mary Morgan’s B&B in Braemar,and after a quick wash and change we set off for the Inver Hotel.
There,a group of Englishmen were having dinner. They were up for the grouse. As soon as they saw us, and realised we were Gurkhas,the leader rushed over and emptied his wallet. Susan Snell, who owns the hotel, insisted on paying for our dinner, which it will not surprise you to learn was curry, and was excellent. Susan used to be a serious tennis player, and took the hotel over 3 years ago, coming from the south for a complete change of lifestyle, She seems to be thriving.
Breakfast is not until 8am, as its only about 20 miles tomorrow - but that includes Lochnagar, which is the only Ben in Scotland called a Loch. From the summit you can look straight down into Balmoral itself.
Can’t help but feel there ought to be a security guard up there to prevent snipers.
126 miles down, about 66 to go.
Friday, August 15, 2008
Ghurka Highlander - Day 4
We were up at 6:15 this morning and into breakfast at 7. The Lady of the House got up specially to make us the usual full house with lashings of toast. Amongst the jams I spotted Robertsons Silver shred ( made from lemons) which I hadn’t seen for years.
20 minut6es later I was standing on the bridge at Roy Bridge and waved the boys off on the train. They would get off at Corrour, where they had finished the night before and would be walking by 8:15. They had 24 miles to Dalwhinnie and then another 2 in order to make some inroads into the 40-odd miler to Braemar on Friday. I nipped back to Spean Bridge to be able to have mobile coverage. Just as I was preparing to leave, a German tour bus drew up outside the hotel with the Commando Museum. Curious, I edged closer, as the stream of elderly men and women made their way into the museum. One grabbed his friend’s arm.
“ Ach” he said “ I do not want to go in there. I was at Dieppe when they attacked us, and as a result we got sent to the Russian front.”
My job today was to get extra supplies in for Friday, and hopefully meet Mrs. Lear at House of Bruar for lunch, with piles of cheques to be noted and people to be thanked.
The weather was magnificent. The sun was blazing with not a cloud in the sky, and the heather- a dull, drab colour with grey skies and rain - had taken on its sharp purple, the reason people talk of the hills and heather being “ ablaze”. I stopped by Loch Laggan and took a photo of the Victorian pile used for Monarch of the Glen. The costumes for its star, Susan Hampshire,were made by my tailor in Glasgow, Steven Purves.
I did a recce on where the boys would get picked up - I would meet them with about 3 miles to go and replenish supplies, then go on the to final rendez-vous for collection. Then an hour’s drive back to Roy Bridge for our last night there.
I made my way into Pitlochry to the Coop. The Highlands and Islands are full of rebranded Coop stores, which are extremely good. They stock a more limited range than bigger supermarkets, but they have more relevance to people like ourselves - walkers and holidaymakers are definitely catered for. I picked up fruit, isotonic drinks and some packaged sandwiches so that the boys would have two lunches with them whilst out of contact for nearly 15 or 16 hours - they will be walking by 6:30 am and will have their first lunch at about 11 and their second about 3:30. I will meet them about 6pm with more supplies and they then have another 9 miles or so to do before they can get dinner.
I waited at Bruar for Mrs. Lear and when she arrived got stuck into the cheques right away, I spent nearly 3 hours just noting names and amounts. I bought myself 2 sweaters with 35% off - when I told a friend they were reduced, he laughed and said he had NOT expected that I would be paying full price. I can’t THINK what he was implying.
I made my way back to the first RV for 4pm, not really expecting them to appear much before 5. I sat on the dam at Dalwhinnie looking across the loch and along the path they would come.. It was idyllic.
Suddenly my phone range.” Shabbash Lear Sahib. Walker John here. Be with you in about an hour.” I sat on enjoying the breeze and the surroundings.
A little while later I spotted them in their white shirts and blue Gurkha Highlander caps. They were making good speed along the side of the loch, and I reckoned the hour would be more like 45 minutes. As they came up on me I took some photos, and then my phone rang again. It was another Gurkha Welfare Trust committee member who had driven up to welcome the boys to her patch - she has a house at Kingussie. She also brought a handsome cheque from various activities.
She had been at a friend’s funeral earlier in the day. The friend, an elderly lady, had always been a great supporter of the Gurkhas because her brother, a Gurkha officer, had fought and died at Kohima, along with many of his men. After the war, a small delegation of Gurkhas had made their way to the lady’s house, with a signed scroll from his men.
The boys had had a wonderful day’s walk in the sun. The views from Ben Alder were spectacular, and they had run into the estate gamekeeper, who promptly gave them £20. Walker John was most pleased with the jerry-rig I had contrived to keep the water out of his gaiters - knicker elastic. He had asked for bicycle clips, but I don’t think they are what people use any more. They use lycra pants instead.
After the extra few miles, I collected the troop and drove back to Roy Bridge, where yet another curry with extra rice and nan bread awaited us. I’m sure there is a curry mafia in the area - every chicken curry comes with prawns in it, but with different strength of sauce. So it’s probably all made centrally somewhere and each hotel or restaurant just adds something and calls it “ The Roy Bridge Hotel Curry” or whatever the name of the establishment. Perfectly good though. Over dinner I was telling the boys that I had bought some heather honey whilst at Bruar.
“Ah,” said Rajif “ I used to be a honey hunter back home when I was young “ (he’s still only 23 and has been in the army for 5 years). Apparently ropes are made by twisting grass, and then the men and boys lower themselves down cliff-sides where the bees have their nests. The honey is very sought after, “ But,” said Rajif, ” the Army pays better and its also much safer.” This from a soldier not long back from Afghanistan Helmand.
Capt. Rajen carried out a recce on the breakfast room we would have to use the next morning. He organised the two most junior men to be up 15 minutes before the rest of us with instructions to get the tea made and the toast started. The Gurkhas definitely work on the basis of seniority!
We were all in bed by 10:30 as the alarms were set for 4am.
85 miles done, about 107 to go
20 minut6es later I was standing on the bridge at Roy Bridge and waved the boys off on the train. They would get off at Corrour, where they had finished the night before and would be walking by 8:15. They had 24 miles to Dalwhinnie and then another 2 in order to make some inroads into the 40-odd miler to Braemar on Friday. I nipped back to Spean Bridge to be able to have mobile coverage. Just as I was preparing to leave, a German tour bus drew up outside the hotel with the Commando Museum. Curious, I edged closer, as the stream of elderly men and women made their way into the museum. One grabbed his friend’s arm.
“ Ach” he said “ I do not want to go in there. I was at Dieppe when they attacked us, and as a result we got sent to the Russian front.”
My job today was to get extra supplies in for Friday, and hopefully meet Mrs. Lear at House of Bruar for lunch, with piles of cheques to be noted and people to be thanked.
The weather was magnificent. The sun was blazing with not a cloud in the sky, and the heather- a dull, drab colour with grey skies and rain - had taken on its sharp purple, the reason people talk of the hills and heather being “ ablaze”. I stopped by Loch Laggan and took a photo of the Victorian pile used for Monarch of the Glen. The costumes for its star, Susan Hampshire,were made by my tailor in Glasgow, Steven Purves.
I did a recce on where the boys would get picked up - I would meet them with about 3 miles to go and replenish supplies, then go on the to final rendez-vous for collection. Then an hour’s drive back to Roy Bridge for our last night there.
I made my way into Pitlochry to the Coop. The Highlands and Islands are full of rebranded Coop stores, which are extremely good. They stock a more limited range than bigger supermarkets, but they have more relevance to people like ourselves - walkers and holidaymakers are definitely catered for. I picked up fruit, isotonic drinks and some packaged sandwiches so that the boys would have two lunches with them whilst out of contact for nearly 15 or 16 hours - they will be walking by 6:30 am and will have their first lunch at about 11 and their second about 3:30. I will meet them about 6pm with more supplies and they then have another 9 miles or so to do before they can get dinner.
I waited at Bruar for Mrs. Lear and when she arrived got stuck into the cheques right away, I spent nearly 3 hours just noting names and amounts. I bought myself 2 sweaters with 35% off - when I told a friend they were reduced, he laughed and said he had NOT expected that I would be paying full price. I can’t THINK what he was implying.
I made my way back to the first RV for 4pm, not really expecting them to appear much before 5. I sat on the dam at Dalwhinnie looking across the loch and along the path they would come.. It was idyllic.
Suddenly my phone range.” Shabbash Lear Sahib. Walker John here. Be with you in about an hour.” I sat on enjoying the breeze and the surroundings.
A little while later I spotted them in their white shirts and blue Gurkha Highlander caps. They were making good speed along the side of the loch, and I reckoned the hour would be more like 45 minutes. As they came up on me I took some photos, and then my phone rang again. It was another Gurkha Welfare Trust committee member who had driven up to welcome the boys to her patch - she has a house at Kingussie. She also brought a handsome cheque from various activities.
She had been at a friend’s funeral earlier in the day. The friend, an elderly lady, had always been a great supporter of the Gurkhas because her brother, a Gurkha officer, had fought and died at Kohima, along with many of his men. After the war, a small delegation of Gurkhas had made their way to the lady’s house, with a signed scroll from his men.
The boys had had a wonderful day’s walk in the sun. The views from Ben Alder were spectacular, and they had run into the estate gamekeeper, who promptly gave them £20. Walker John was most pleased with the jerry-rig I had contrived to keep the water out of his gaiters - knicker elastic. He had asked for bicycle clips, but I don’t think they are what people use any more. They use lycra pants instead.
After the extra few miles, I collected the troop and drove back to Roy Bridge, where yet another curry with extra rice and nan bread awaited us. I’m sure there is a curry mafia in the area - every chicken curry comes with prawns in it, but with different strength of sauce. So it’s probably all made centrally somewhere and each hotel or restaurant just adds something and calls it “ The Roy Bridge Hotel Curry” or whatever the name of the establishment. Perfectly good though. Over dinner I was telling the boys that I had bought some heather honey whilst at Bruar.
“Ah,” said Rajif “ I used to be a honey hunter back home when I was young “ (he’s still only 23 and has been in the army for 5 years). Apparently ropes are made by twisting grass, and then the men and boys lower themselves down cliff-sides where the bees have their nests. The honey is very sought after, “ But,” said Rajif, ” the Army pays better and its also much safer.” This from a soldier not long back from Afghanistan Helmand.
Capt. Rajen carried out a recce on the breakfast room we would have to use the next morning. He organised the two most junior men to be up 15 minutes before the rest of us with instructions to get the tea made and the toast started. The Gurkhas definitely work on the basis of seniority!
We were all in bed by 10:30 as the alarms were set for 4am.
85 miles done, about 107 to go
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Gurkha Highlander - Day 3
The day started auspiciously with bright skies, and the boys all wearing their “Gurkha Highlander” shirts - but the white ones as it was going to be a sunny day. They set off from Spean Bridge with the train pass they had been given by ScotRail. They were to catch the 15:20 train from Corrour, that fantastic great estate which belonged to the Maxwell MacDonalds for generations and which had its own train station, with no other way to get into it.
The day held fine, and at 3:45 I was waiting for the lads at Roy Bridge. They came up the steps from the platform.
“ Had to run last two miles sahib ,“said Captain Rajen. “ Sign by path say 12 miles but was 14” The Captain had a strain, but when a car had stopped at one point to see if he was alright, he had said to them " Oh, I was thinking you were wanting to read my map. OF COURSE I am alright" - and immediately made them all run the next section.
Back at the hotel, we washed and changed, then made our way to the Commando Memorial. The Gurkhas lined up, and the Walk Leader gave an uplifting short speech. He had been a Gurkha Officer, his father had been a commando. Then the Piper, who had specially driven all the way from the Army Piping school in Edinburgh, played “Flowers o’ the Forest” and we all stood to attention.
The Royal British Legion placed a wreath, then the Captain, with heart-warming military precision, placed the Gurkha’s. The sun shone on the enterprise, and even the Grey Corries and Ben Nevis looking magnificent. The photographer from the Sunday Times took lots of photos with the backdrop of hills - superb.
People were pressing money into my hands, wanting no thanks, tears in some of their eyes, mentioning fathers, uncles, sons,mothers who had had a connection with the Gurkhas.
I’ve felt humbled more than once on this effort. This was another time.
Appropriately, we had a meal in the Everest Indian Restaurant in Fort William. It describes itself as " Down the lane opposite the job centre". Says quite a lot about Fort William. We headed back to Roy Bridge for an early night. 06:30 start tomorrow and 26 miles to walk.
59 miles down, 133 to go.
The day held fine, and at 3:45 I was waiting for the lads at Roy Bridge. They came up the steps from the platform.
“ Had to run last two miles sahib ,“said Captain Rajen. “ Sign by path say 12 miles but was 14” The Captain had a strain, but when a car had stopped at one point to see if he was alright, he had said to them " Oh, I was thinking you were wanting to read my map. OF COURSE I am alright" - and immediately made them all run the next section.
Back at the hotel, we washed and changed, then made our way to the Commando Memorial. The Gurkhas lined up, and the Walk Leader gave an uplifting short speech. He had been a Gurkha Officer, his father had been a commando. Then the Piper, who had specially driven all the way from the Army Piping school in Edinburgh, played “Flowers o’ the Forest” and we all stood to attention.
The Royal British Legion placed a wreath, then the Captain, with heart-warming military precision, placed the Gurkha’s. The sun shone on the enterprise, and even the Grey Corries and Ben Nevis looking magnificent. The photographer from the Sunday Times took lots of photos with the backdrop of hills - superb.
People were pressing money into my hands, wanting no thanks, tears in some of their eyes, mentioning fathers, uncles, sons,mothers who had had a connection with the Gurkhas.
I’ve felt humbled more than once on this effort. This was another time.
Appropriately, we had a meal in the Everest Indian Restaurant in Fort William. It describes itself as " Down the lane opposite the job centre". Says quite a lot about Fort William. We headed back to Roy Bridge for an early night. 06:30 start tomorrow and 26 miles to walk.
59 miles down, 133 to go.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Gurkha Highlander Day 2
I dropped the lads off where I had collected them the night before. They were full of glee as it wasn’t raining and there was a light wind which would keep the midges away. Today’s walk would take them on the single track road 13 miles along Loch Arkaig, then cutting past Achnacarry House to the Caledonian Canal, then a short cross country trek to Spean Bridge. 21 miles in total.
I arranged to meet them for lunch about 2-ish where they would be leaving the road to cut through.
Promptly at 2 I saw them coming towards me. I got out the van and began to walk towards them.
Suddenly I saw a twelve point stag, munching at the road side. He turned his magnificent head towards me, and watched me warily as I slowly moved past him. I kept watching but he soon started to eat again. His antlers were all in velvet and he looked every inch a Monarch of the Glen.
Unfortunately by the time the boys came up to me he had moved off, but they had seen lots of other deer en route - presumably part of his harem.
They apologised for being a little late. They had heard the sound of pipes and had gone to investigate. They found an English lady who had been coming to the area for 40 years and had recently come permanently. She adored the pipes and played every day at her front door, the notes floating around the glen and across the loch. Once she found out what the boys were doing her husband was produced along with chequebook, and the boys were sent on their way with a handsome cheque and a skirl of the pipes.
One of the boys had been wearing his army boots, which were almost new. A mere 10 miles had reduced them to nothing, and he had taken them off in disgust and walked barefoot on the verge the rest of the way. He told me that the equipment they were issued with now was so bad they generally bought their own. He had brought these with him as a spare pair.
I left them as I was collecting a reporter from the Sunday Times.
The boys made their way into the Cameron Museum, where they were given free entry, and various people at the museum pressed money into their hands.
The reporter duly arrived and I took him up to the Commando memorial to wait for the lads arrival. We chatted about the Welfare Trust in general, and about the British love affair with the Gurkhas which has endured for over 200 years. One of the occasions we discussed was the Indian Mutiny of 1857. The Gurkhas were the only - the only - local regiment that remained loyal to the British, and naturally they were lauded to the skies in the papers of the day. That’s just one reason they are known as “Bravest of the Brave, Most Loyal of the Most Loyal.”
After the interview, the boys moved on to finish at Spean Bridge for the day. After bathing and changing, we went to the Aonach Mhor Hotel for dinner. The cook there came out and told us she had a son who had been wounded and had spent three years at Woolwich Military Hospital. She couldn’t praise the staff enough, not only for their care of her son, but for the care they took of she and her husband.
“ And now they want to shut these hospitals. I just voted for the petition to keep them. I hope the people who made these cuts have children needing specialist care. No-one in government knows or cares what our lads do for us.”
Needless to say, our dinner was free, despite trying very hard to pay for it.
43 miles down about 148 to go.
I arranged to meet them for lunch about 2-ish where they would be leaving the road to cut through.
Promptly at 2 I saw them coming towards me. I got out the van and began to walk towards them.
Suddenly I saw a twelve point stag, munching at the road side. He turned his magnificent head towards me, and watched me warily as I slowly moved past him. I kept watching but he soon started to eat again. His antlers were all in velvet and he looked every inch a Monarch of the Glen.
Unfortunately by the time the boys came up to me he had moved off, but they had seen lots of other deer en route - presumably part of his harem.
They apologised for being a little late. They had heard the sound of pipes and had gone to investigate. They found an English lady who had been coming to the area for 40 years and had recently come permanently. She adored the pipes and played every day at her front door, the notes floating around the glen and across the loch. Once she found out what the boys were doing her husband was produced along with chequebook, and the boys were sent on their way with a handsome cheque and a skirl of the pipes.
One of the boys had been wearing his army boots, which were almost new. A mere 10 miles had reduced them to nothing, and he had taken them off in disgust and walked barefoot on the verge the rest of the way. He told me that the equipment they were issued with now was so bad they generally bought their own. He had brought these with him as a spare pair.
I left them as I was collecting a reporter from the Sunday Times.
The boys made their way into the Cameron Museum, where they were given free entry, and various people at the museum pressed money into their hands.
The reporter duly arrived and I took him up to the Commando memorial to wait for the lads arrival. We chatted about the Welfare Trust in general, and about the British love affair with the Gurkhas which has endured for over 200 years. One of the occasions we discussed was the Indian Mutiny of 1857. The Gurkhas were the only - the only - local regiment that remained loyal to the British, and naturally they were lauded to the skies in the papers of the day. That’s just one reason they are known as “Bravest of the Brave, Most Loyal of the Most Loyal.”
After the interview, the boys moved on to finish at Spean Bridge for the day. After bathing and changing, we went to the Aonach Mhor Hotel for dinner. The cook there came out and told us she had a son who had been wounded and had spent three years at Woolwich Military Hospital. She couldn’t praise the staff enough, not only for their care of her son, but for the care they took of she and her husband.
“ And now they want to shut these hospitals. I just voted for the petition to keep them. I hope the people who made these cuts have children needing specialist care. No-one in government knows or cares what our lads do for us.”
Needless to say, our dinner was free, despite trying very hard to pay for it.
43 miles down about 148 to go.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
The end of day one
It took me an hour to drive over a road beside loch Arkaig that twisted & turned, rose & fell for 13 miles. The drizzle was still coming down and I knew the rain had been lashing in the middle of the day on Knoydart. The estimated rendez-vous for the Gurkha Highlanderswas 7pm, but I reckoned they would be at least another 45 minutes. Even so, I intended to be at the RV for 6:30 just in case.
Except I couldn’t get there. There was a locked gate at the end of the loch. I turned the minibus, donned waterproof leggings, anorak and wellies, and set off along the path on the other side of the gate. I was worried they would get to the RV and not realise I hadn’t been able to get to the them.
After a mile or so I got to where we had agreed - except the ruined old barracks from 1745 weren’t there. I checked my map again and saw there was another ruin about half a mile further on - they might easily stop there. So I walked on. After hanging about for a bit I walked back to RV1 - then back to RV2.
About 7:30 I decided I needed a pee, and made the mistake of trying. The Avon “ skin so soft” was doing its anti-midge job really well on face and hands - but there was none where it counts, and within a moment or two I had an appendage more black than pink. I finished off as quickly as I could then did my best to get rid of the pests.
I walked backwards and forwards between the two RVs for another 45 mins and then - walking back from 2 to 1 I spotted them just coming off the hill. Whoops of delight all round.
We quick marched to the bus and they grabbed chocolate bars and more water.
They had done well. At one point they came to a raging torrent - not on the map. They cast up and down for a bit, and then climbed a small hillock to get an overall look. They could just make out the track on the other side of the river. The weather had been so bad that a tin y rivulet had become a torrent. With great difficulty they crossed and kept going. The delay had cost them the extra half hour to the RV. As we drove back along the windy road, I asked if anyone was bothered by the mogtion.
“ No sahib,” said the Captain.” No lady-boys here!” Hoots of laughter all round.
Of course, we were too late back to get food. But the Spean Bridge Hotel very kindly provided fish and chips which were excellent. The Gurkhas of course love chillies, so two bowls of red and green whole chillies and a bowl of jallapinos were demolished too. I can tell you chips with jallapinos is an acquired taste.
We got back to Roy Bridge about 11pm - only to discover neither I nor the walk leader had paid the bill. We called the Spean Bridge.
“ That’s OK dear,” said the owner,” Consider it my contribution.”
The Spean Brdige Hotel also has the Commando Museum. It would appear that some despicable person is going round the area, rattling a can, saying that items have been stolen from the Museum, and would you contribute to help restock it? I know if we catch him he won’t be doing it for a long time.
Th Gurkhas will be walking past Achnagarry house today. We have the Sunday Times coming to interview them and take a photo or two.
And the Colonel has finally got a piper for tomorrow at the wreath laying.
22 miles down,about 170 to go.
Except I couldn’t get there. There was a locked gate at the end of the loch. I turned the minibus, donned waterproof leggings, anorak and wellies, and set off along the path on the other side of the gate. I was worried they would get to the RV and not realise I hadn’t been able to get to the them.
After a mile or so I got to where we had agreed - except the ruined old barracks from 1745 weren’t there. I checked my map again and saw there was another ruin about half a mile further on - they might easily stop there. So I walked on. After hanging about for a bit I walked back to RV1 - then back to RV2.
About 7:30 I decided I needed a pee, and made the mistake of trying. The Avon “ skin so soft” was doing its anti-midge job really well on face and hands - but there was none where it counts, and within a moment or two I had an appendage more black than pink. I finished off as quickly as I could then did my best to get rid of the pests.
I walked backwards and forwards between the two RVs for another 45 mins and then - walking back from 2 to 1 I spotted them just coming off the hill. Whoops of delight all round.
We quick marched to the bus and they grabbed chocolate bars and more water.
They had done well. At one point they came to a raging torrent - not on the map. They cast up and down for a bit, and then climbed a small hillock to get an overall look. They could just make out the track on the other side of the river. The weather had been so bad that a tin y rivulet had become a torrent. With great difficulty they crossed and kept going. The delay had cost them the extra half hour to the RV. As we drove back along the windy road, I asked if anyone was bothered by the mogtion.
“ No sahib,” said the Captain.” No lady-boys here!” Hoots of laughter all round.
Of course, we were too late back to get food. But the Spean Bridge Hotel very kindly provided fish and chips which were excellent. The Gurkhas of course love chillies, so two bowls of red and green whole chillies and a bowl of jallapinos were demolished too. I can tell you chips with jallapinos is an acquired taste.
We got back to Roy Bridge about 11pm - only to discover neither I nor the walk leader had paid the bill. We called the Spean Bridge.
“ That’s OK dear,” said the owner,” Consider it my contribution.”
The Spean Brdige Hotel also has the Commando Museum. It would appear that some despicable person is going round the area, rattling a can, saying that items have been stolen from the Museum, and would you contribute to help restock it? I know if we catch him he won’t be doing it for a long time.
Th Gurkhas will be walking past Achnagarry house today. We have the Sunday Times coming to interview them and take a photo or two.
And the Colonel has finally got a piper for tomorrow at the wreath laying.
22 miles down,about 170 to go.
Monday, August 11, 2008
Gurkha Highlander 2008
Gurkha Highlander 2008 officially launched at Prestonpans at the War Memorial on Saturday afternoon. We had a great turn out with lots of Girl Guides rattling cans for us and several Royal British Legion members who had come from as far afield as Hawick for the event. The local papers covered it, and then we all went to the Church Hall for an excellent tea. Personally I was delighted to see the serious amount of filling that had been put in the sandwiches - I’m not so keen on the bread, but I do like a good thick filling.
The Gurkhas ran into a drunk slumped near the War Memorial, who pulled himself to his feet and threw a pretty smart salute.
“ Did ye get yer eeayrh…” He was lost for words.
“ Pension?” I offered.
“ Aye PENSION,” he emphasised.
“Not in full”
“ Bastards!” and he staggered off into the pub.
The lads themselves are from six different Nepalese tribes, from a Lal who is short and stocky from living at over 10,000 ft, to a Chitri, who is more like an Indian and comes from the lowlands. They are wonderfully cheery, some recently back from Afghanistan.
“ How was it” asked their compatriots eagerly
“ It was wonderful - we could have as much ammunition as we wanted and we could kill anyone who fired at us. It was so funny - one day, a ricochet bullet hit Rajen on his helmet. We all fell about laughing!”
Saturday night they cooked a curry for us which was excellent - and mountainous. They are not that big but they can certainly eat.You may have heard about Nepal now being run by Maoists. Of course, being Nepalese, they have huge respect for everyone unlike their Chinese namesakes. As one of the boys said “ We have had blood pain and tears for years but now we have clever uncorrupt people in power who may be good for us.”
And of course, they particularly respect the Gurkhas. As Capt. Gurung said, “ Yes yes, they consult us before doing very much. We are the most respected grouping in Nepal. We don’t make policy, or get involved, but if we don’t like it we tell them, and they listen.”
So this morning we drove to Mallaig and took Bruce Watt’s ferry over to Inverie . There are no roads there. You have to take a boat or walk in. In our case, we took the boat in the and lads will walk out. We passed a basking shark and some puffins, both of which excited the boys enormously.
As I recrossed back to Mallaig I saw them disappear into the drizzle. I have to pick them up in seven hours or so from where they walk out of the peninsula. As one of them said.” Oh, this is such fun - we get to walk in the mountains again!”
I love the Gurkhas. Donate online at www.gwt.org.uk
The Gurkhas ran into a drunk slumped near the War Memorial, who pulled himself to his feet and threw a pretty smart salute.
“ Did ye get yer eeayrh…” He was lost for words.
“ Pension?” I offered.
“ Aye PENSION,” he emphasised.
“Not in full”
“ Bastards!” and he staggered off into the pub.
The lads themselves are from six different Nepalese tribes, from a Lal who is short and stocky from living at over 10,000 ft, to a Chitri, who is more like an Indian and comes from the lowlands. They are wonderfully cheery, some recently back from Afghanistan.
“ How was it” asked their compatriots eagerly
“ It was wonderful - we could have as much ammunition as we wanted and we could kill anyone who fired at us. It was so funny - one day, a ricochet bullet hit Rajen on his helmet. We all fell about laughing!”
Saturday night they cooked a curry for us which was excellent - and mountainous. They are not that big but they can certainly eat.You may have heard about Nepal now being run by Maoists. Of course, being Nepalese, they have huge respect for everyone unlike their Chinese namesakes. As one of the boys said “ We have had blood pain and tears for years but now we have clever uncorrupt people in power who may be good for us.”
And of course, they particularly respect the Gurkhas. As Capt. Gurung said, “ Yes yes, they consult us before doing very much. We are the most respected grouping in Nepal. We don’t make policy, or get involved, but if we don’t like it we tell them, and they listen.”
So this morning we drove to Mallaig and took Bruce Watt’s ferry over to Inverie . There are no roads there. You have to take a boat or walk in. In our case, we took the boat in the and lads will walk out. We passed a basking shark and some puffins, both of which excited the boys enormously.
As I recrossed back to Mallaig I saw them disappear into the drizzle. I have to pick them up in seven hours or so from where they walk out of the peninsula. As one of them said.” Oh, this is such fun - we get to walk in the mountains again!”
I love the Gurkhas. Donate online at www.gwt.org.uk
Friday, August 08, 2008
Brown and Darling mess it up again.
A friend is trying to sell his house down south in the £500-600,000 bracket. He actually got two offers about a fortnight ago, pretty good in this market.
Except.....
We then have Darling saying he's thinking about a stamp duty holiday - and it stops dead. This is not really surprising - wouldn't you want to save £20,000 for hanging on a bit?
Of course, the so-called holiday will actually have no effect - people will simply look to get marginally higher prices for the same property - which will slow up any sales anyway.
The only things that will make the housing market revive are:
1) Much lower house prices
2) Banks actually giving people money as opposed to saying they are going to.( I friend tells me he has been waiting for a facility letter for more than 6 weeks - he phones every day to be told its in the system)
3) A belief that prices are not going to fall any more.
However clever Brown and Darling think they are ( NB: they're not, they are stupid) , until people's perception is that prices might rise, they won't buy.
And they certainly won't buy if they think they can avoid giving this government any stamp duty by waiting.
My prediction? Don't even start looking until later in 2009.
Except.....
We then have Darling saying he's thinking about a stamp duty holiday - and it stops dead. This is not really surprising - wouldn't you want to save £20,000 for hanging on a bit?
Of course, the so-called holiday will actually have no effect - people will simply look to get marginally higher prices for the same property - which will slow up any sales anyway.
The only things that will make the housing market revive are:
1) Much lower house prices
2) Banks actually giving people money as opposed to saying they are going to.( I friend tells me he has been waiting for a facility letter for more than 6 weeks - he phones every day to be told its in the system)
3) A belief that prices are not going to fall any more.
However clever Brown and Darling think they are ( NB: they're not, they are stupid) , until people's perception is that prices might rise, they won't buy.
And they certainly won't buy if they think they can avoid giving this government any stamp duty by waiting.
My prediction? Don't even start looking until later in 2009.
Monday, August 04, 2008
Claymore ' 08
I was at Meadowbank in Edinburgh on Saturday collecting for the Gurkhas, and was able to chat to some of the people there.
Claymore is the main Scottish War Games event of the year. There are lots, but this is THE one. People come from all over the UK and the tiny ( and not so tiny) figures are all beautifully painted, set out and manipulated. This was the fourth year I have done this, and the organisers very kindly donate the door money to the Gurkha Welfare Trust.
The man at the next stand was from Middlesborough. He is a lecturer in engineering at the college there. We chatted about the Gurkha Highlander walk which is starting at the weekend and he talked of his fundraising walks.
He mentioned some German students who had taken part in one when on an exchange. He went quiet for a bit, and then started to tell me about them.
The German boys were the same age as his students, and he was embarrassed at how little his young men knew. The English boys in Germany had been completely at sea, as the Germans at the same age where about four years further ahead, and he had had to set up a special class for the Germans in Middlesborough - teaching them matters beyond the end of the college courses.
As he said, we no longer have the tools in place to educate even the relatively teachable to the degree required in the modern world. Our Universities may have been dumbed down to a great extent but the dross that gets drafted in are actually incapable of progressing beyond the first year, which is why the drop out rates are so high - such a waste of resources and time. He quite categorically stated that his students, even with the engineering degree they would emerge with, would actually not get jobs here, because the Czechs, Poles, Hungarians and Romanians that were coming over had better degrees and better understanding of the principles.
As he put it, " If only this bloody Government would leave us alone to get on with it, we could turn this around. Halve the University places, raise the standards again, and produce people who can actually do proper jobs instead of Travel and Tourism or Media. There won't be any Media left soon anyway - it will all have migrated to the Internet."
But his real point was the Government interference.
The best thing any incoming Government could do would be to stop all new legislation for at least 5 years and get rid of all the bad, ill thought out and unenforceable laws that have piled up.
Claymore is the main Scottish War Games event of the year. There are lots, but this is THE one. People come from all over the UK and the tiny ( and not so tiny) figures are all beautifully painted, set out and manipulated. This was the fourth year I have done this, and the organisers very kindly donate the door money to the Gurkha Welfare Trust.
The man at the next stand was from Middlesborough. He is a lecturer in engineering at the college there. We chatted about the Gurkha Highlander walk which is starting at the weekend and he talked of his fundraising walks.
He mentioned some German students who had taken part in one when on an exchange. He went quiet for a bit, and then started to tell me about them.
The German boys were the same age as his students, and he was embarrassed at how little his young men knew. The English boys in Germany had been completely at sea, as the Germans at the same age where about four years further ahead, and he had had to set up a special class for the Germans in Middlesborough - teaching them matters beyond the end of the college courses.
As he said, we no longer have the tools in place to educate even the relatively teachable to the degree required in the modern world. Our Universities may have been dumbed down to a great extent but the dross that gets drafted in are actually incapable of progressing beyond the first year, which is why the drop out rates are so high - such a waste of resources and time. He quite categorically stated that his students, even with the engineering degree they would emerge with, would actually not get jobs here, because the Czechs, Poles, Hungarians and Romanians that were coming over had better degrees and better understanding of the principles.
As he put it, " If only this bloody Government would leave us alone to get on with it, we could turn this around. Halve the University places, raise the standards again, and produce people who can actually do proper jobs instead of Travel and Tourism or Media. There won't be any Media left soon anyway - it will all have migrated to the Internet."
But his real point was the Government interference.
The best thing any incoming Government could do would be to stop all new legislation for at least 5 years and get rid of all the bad, ill thought out and unenforceable laws that have piled up.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
I'm humbled
I've spent most of today opening envelopes and totting up cheques that have been flooding in the this years Gurkha Highlander.
I am always astonished at the affection and long-term links that the UK has with Nepal and the Gurkhas.
Many people include little stories with their cheques. Some people just send cash anonymously. I like to think it gets through because it's being sent to the Gurkhas. Little old ladies send in cheques for odd amounts. As one note said " I'm sorry the cheque is only for £8.50. Its all I've got in my account."
There are waves of disgust at this government's treatment of the Gurkhas, and equally strong waves of admiration and dare I say it love for the " bravest of the brave".
I think two of the notes areworthy of mention, which sum them all up. The first is from a lady living in central Scotland. " A small token of my gratitude to the gallant men I met in Stirling during the 1940s. They saved my sanity by "adopting " me when I thought I could not go on."
And another from a lady in Liverpool.
" I'm sending this because the only reason I'm here is because a Gurkha gave his life for my father. When I was growing up, Dad would never talk about the war. Sometimes a war film would come on the TV. He would switch it off, turn to me and shake his finger, saying, remember that he wouldn't he there if it hadn't been for the Gurkhas.
There is no real way to say thank you to them."
Too true.
I am always astonished at the affection and long-term links that the UK has with Nepal and the Gurkhas.
Many people include little stories with their cheques. Some people just send cash anonymously. I like to think it gets through because it's being sent to the Gurkhas. Little old ladies send in cheques for odd amounts. As one note said " I'm sorry the cheque is only for £8.50. Its all I've got in my account."
There are waves of disgust at this government's treatment of the Gurkhas, and equally strong waves of admiration and dare I say it love for the " bravest of the brave".
I think two of the notes areworthy of mention, which sum them all up. The first is from a lady living in central Scotland. " A small token of my gratitude to the gallant men I met in Stirling during the 1940s. They saved my sanity by "adopting " me when I thought I could not go on."
And another from a lady in Liverpool.
" I'm sending this because the only reason I'm here is because a Gurkha gave his life for my father. When I was growing up, Dad would never talk about the war. Sometimes a war film would come on the TV. He would switch it off, turn to me and shake his finger, saying, remember that he wouldn't he there if it hadn't been for the Gurkhas.
There is no real way to say thank you to them."
Too true.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Red Tape
In a sense this is a double entendre as it implies, not just the ancient approved colour of government tape, but left-leaning paranoia and control-freakery which is ham-stringing UK business.
Today, the plumber ( Not Paul Davidson obviously, but the one we use) came into the office and was complaining bitterly about the problems he had trying to open a bank account for his business.
Up to now he has relied on cash and his own bank account, but as he wanted to send his son to plumbing-school on a grant , he needed a business and a business bank account.
Apart from having banked with Bank of Scotland since he got his first pay packet, they hold his mortgage, his Isa's, his car loan, and a personal loan.
It took nearly 7 months to get the bank account open, which included going into the branch and having the business adviser there fill in the forms and send them off with the relevant documents - twice.
If you want people to be legitimate and pay tax, make it easy.
And get rid of at least half the 10,000 odd pages of UK tax law that no one, not even tax inspectors, appear to understand.
ENORMOUS PS:
Quote from this week's Property Week, regarding the Government's abolition of rate relief on empty buildings - Doug Stewart of Salmon Developments says he will demolish any buildings unlet after 3 months trying - and leave the piles of rubble in situ. " It will serve to remind the public and Ministers what a bad job this government is doing. Rate relief was removed with a promise that it would lower rents and increase the supply of commercial space. Clearly the government is wrong on both counts."
That's how much Brown, Darling, the Treasury and everyone else involved understands about economics and unintended consequences.
Today, the plumber ( Not Paul Davidson obviously, but the one we use) came into the office and was complaining bitterly about the problems he had trying to open a bank account for his business.
Up to now he has relied on cash and his own bank account, but as he wanted to send his son to plumbing-school on a grant , he needed a business and a business bank account.
Apart from having banked with Bank of Scotland since he got his first pay packet, they hold his mortgage, his Isa's, his car loan, and a personal loan.
It took nearly 7 months to get the bank account open, which included going into the branch and having the business adviser there fill in the forms and send them off with the relevant documents - twice.
If you want people to be legitimate and pay tax, make it easy.
And get rid of at least half the 10,000 odd pages of UK tax law that no one, not even tax inspectors, appear to understand.
ENORMOUS PS:
Quote from this week's Property Week, regarding the Government's abolition of rate relief on empty buildings - Doug Stewart of Salmon Developments says he will demolish any buildings unlet after 3 months trying - and leave the piles of rubble in situ. " It will serve to remind the public and Ministers what a bad job this government is doing. Rate relief was removed with a promise that it would lower rents and increase the supply of commercial space. Clearly the government is wrong on both counts."
That's how much Brown, Darling, the Treasury and everyone else involved understands about economics and unintended consequences.
Friday, July 25, 2008
Gurkha Highlander
You all know how committed I am to the Gurkha Welfare Trust.
To this end, 6 serving Gurkhas and an ex-Gurkha Officer will be walking the Gurkha Highlander Way, from Mallaig to Stonehaven, 11th - 19th August.
I've got the easy bit - I just have to drive the mini-bus, generously donated by Arnold Clark.
In past years upwards of GBP50,000 has been raised and we would hope to reach at least this target.
The official start is Saturday 9th August at the War Memorial at Prestonpans at 4pm, when we will all parade and receive the first cheque of the campaign from Mary Yorkston, a Trefoil Trust committee member. If you are in the area, come along and get a cup of tea.
Thereafter you can take pictures of us at Mallaig at 10am on Monday 9th. August and at 6pm at the Commando Memorial at Spean Bridge on Wednesday 11th. August, where we will be laying a wreath. With any luck there will be a piper - fingers crossed.
Prince Charles is the Patron of the Gurkha Welfare Trust and Colonel in Chief of the Royal Gurkha Rifles. Prince Harry, when interviewed about his time in Afghanistan, specifically mentioned the Gurkhas he served with.
If you can help in any way, please do so. Donate online at http://www.gwt.org.uk
To this end, 6 serving Gurkhas and an ex-Gurkha Officer will be walking the Gurkha Highlander Way, from Mallaig to Stonehaven, 11th - 19th August.
I've got the easy bit - I just have to drive the mini-bus, generously donated by Arnold Clark.
In past years upwards of GBP50,000 has been raised and we would hope to reach at least this target.
The official start is Saturday 9th August at the War Memorial at Prestonpans at 4pm, when we will all parade and receive the first cheque of the campaign from Mary Yorkston, a Trefoil Trust committee member. If you are in the area, come along and get a cup of tea.
Thereafter you can take pictures of us at Mallaig at 10am on Monday 9th. August and at 6pm at the Commando Memorial at Spean Bridge on Wednesday 11th. August, where we will be laying a wreath. With any luck there will be a piper - fingers crossed.
Prince Charles is the Patron of the Gurkha Welfare Trust and Colonel in Chief of the Royal Gurkha Rifles. Prince Harry, when interviewed about his time in Afghanistan, specifically mentioned the Gurkhas he served with.
If you can help in any way, please do so. Donate online at http://www.gwt.org.uk
... and after.
So Mason just did it.If anyone was in any doubt about Labour supporters views on the present Government and what they've done for ordinary people, this result should leave them in no doubt. Even more so, last night's Conservative Council seat win in Westminster North ( never ever been anything but Labour) means the end of Labour rule.
I've long argued that each MP should fight and work for his own constituency, and hang the consequences. Labour's Marshall ( and many more particularly in Scotland) never subscribed to this idea and - as Guido would say - had their snouts well and truly in the trough, mouthed platitudes about regeneration and social inclusion, and hopped on the plane to London.
I sincerely hope these results will teach all politicians an important lesson.
Look after your people and they will look after you.
Ignore them and - eventually - you will get booted out.
I've long argued that each MP should fight and work for his own constituency, and hang the consequences. Labour's Marshall ( and many more particularly in Scotland) never subscribed to this idea and - as Guido would say - had their snouts well and truly in the trough, mouthed platitudes about regeneration and social inclusion, and hopped on the plane to London.
I sincerely hope these results will teach all politicians an important lesson.
Look after your people and they will look after you.
Ignore them and - eventually - you will get booted out.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Glasgow East before...
I spent part of this morning in the company of a man who is a West of Scotland Catholic of Irish extraction - the bedrock of Labour's dominance in Scotland for over 50 years. He used to be a Labour fundraiser, has met and dined with all the present Cabinet ( and the ones that came before under Our Tone).
He resigned from the Party in 2006 over a number of matters, but largely because he felt that the Party in Scotland in particular was doing nothing for its people.
Having spent two years thinking about things ( he'd never be a conservatives despite sending his children to fee paying schools, living in a £1million house and being an all round wealthy person) he has decided to become an SNP supporter - and even put himself forward as a candidate for future elections.
If someone like him can change sides, then many hundreds of thousands more will over the next few years. As he says " It's time for a change. We won the fight in 1997, and the Westminster Government, despite being led by Scots, continued to use us as cannon-fodder. Now they've pissed it all away. They can't afford to do anything for us. Maybe the SNP will."
He has no fears of Scotland being on its own. " Within Europe, we would attract much more in funding than we get at the moment. We could easily be a haven from the strife and stress elsewhere in the UK and the world"
His prediction for the bye-election?
" Curran might just do it - but only because she's actually quite good. Or she might not - it's that close.
But at the general election, the SNP will definitely take it - along with many more seats. And in the Scottish Parliament next time round there will be a majority of SNP members."
Engies be warned.
He resigned from the Party in 2006 over a number of matters, but largely because he felt that the Party in Scotland in particular was doing nothing for its people.
Having spent two years thinking about things ( he'd never be a conservatives despite sending his children to fee paying schools, living in a £1million house and being an all round wealthy person) he has decided to become an SNP supporter - and even put himself forward as a candidate for future elections.
If someone like him can change sides, then many hundreds of thousands more will over the next few years. As he says " It's time for a change. We won the fight in 1997, and the Westminster Government, despite being led by Scots, continued to use us as cannon-fodder. Now they've pissed it all away. They can't afford to do anything for us. Maybe the SNP will."
He has no fears of Scotland being on its own. " Within Europe, we would attract much more in funding than we get at the moment. We could easily be a haven from the strife and stress elsewhere in the UK and the world"
His prediction for the bye-election?
" Curran might just do it - but only because she's actually quite good. Or she might not - it's that close.
But at the general election, the SNP will definitely take it - along with many more seats. And in the Scottish Parliament next time round there will be a majority of SNP members."
Engies be warned.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Overnight
My last day in Romania was wonderful. We were in the fields with the sun beating down, finding out all sorts of interesting things. We were surrounded by clouds of the most brilliant butterflies, who flitted about us all day.
Not least, someone had planted corn on one of our bits of land. The interesting thing was that we had bought an entire block, but the miscreant had only used a small part at one end. It transpired he came from another area, had not heard we had bought it, had been renting it for several years, and the vendor never bothered to tell him it had been sold. A quick visit got the agreement to transfer the rent to us.
The goat man reported we had 12 extra goats ( I'm not sure quite how, as we only started with 6 nannies), but of the 12, 6 were billys and would be sold in October. So now we will own 12, and on the present rate of increase by next year we will have about 30. I don't understand it either.
The day was rounded off by agreeing to buy some other disparate pieces of ground , some of which we actually wanted. The problem is the government only pays the pension to the vendors if they withdraw entirely from farming, ie sell all they own. Frequently - if not all the time - we have to buy bits here and there we don't want. Every now and again, some of the odd bits join up and then it becomes rather more interesting.
The day finished with a drink or two in the Mayor's garden ( we helped collect the Mirabelles from which he makes a delicious drink) followed by dinner at almost the right time in the Unglerus in Biertan. It serves the best cabbage salad of anywhere.
Nothing would do after dinner but that the Mayor would visit his friend the artist Ion Constantinescu who lives nearby. Of course, another bottle was broached which naturally meant we had to buy something....But it did mean we got free invitations to his next show on 17th October. Alin told me that the ending of his name (.. escu) indicates an important man in Romania, or one with connections, that all important part of doing business there.
After all this it was back onto the night train back to Budapest which leaves Sighisoara at 23:26. As I've mentioned before, night travel is now my preferred time to move about. As my Granny would have said, " What kind of night-hawk are you?" There was hardly anyone on the train, and it arrived bang on time the next morning. The station hotel knows me well now and allows me to shower and shave in an empty room, before taking their breakfast. I spent a lovely day in Budapest and flew back to Prestwick in the early evening.
The most important thing to do in Budapest is to haggle, especially with the taxi drivers. A trip to the airport can cost as much as Eur 50 or as little as Eur 10. The problem is finding the right driver. I discovered by accident that they can change the charges made per kilometer on their meters, so it is critical to get the price agreed first.
Not least, someone had planted corn on one of our bits of land. The interesting thing was that we had bought an entire block, but the miscreant had only used a small part at one end. It transpired he came from another area, had not heard we had bought it, had been renting it for several years, and the vendor never bothered to tell him it had been sold. A quick visit got the agreement to transfer the rent to us.
The goat man reported we had 12 extra goats ( I'm not sure quite how, as we only started with 6 nannies), but of the 12, 6 were billys and would be sold in October. So now we will own 12, and on the present rate of increase by next year we will have about 30. I don't understand it either.
The day was rounded off by agreeing to buy some other disparate pieces of ground , some of which we actually wanted. The problem is the government only pays the pension to the vendors if they withdraw entirely from farming, ie sell all they own. Frequently - if not all the time - we have to buy bits here and there we don't want. Every now and again, some of the odd bits join up and then it becomes rather more interesting.
The day finished with a drink or two in the Mayor's garden ( we helped collect the Mirabelles from which he makes a delicious drink) followed by dinner at almost the right time in the Unglerus in Biertan. It serves the best cabbage salad of anywhere.
Nothing would do after dinner but that the Mayor would visit his friend the artist Ion Constantinescu who lives nearby. Of course, another bottle was broached which naturally meant we had to buy something....But it did mean we got free invitations to his next show on 17th October. Alin told me that the ending of his name (.. escu) indicates an important man in Romania, or one with connections, that all important part of doing business there.
After all this it was back onto the night train back to Budapest which leaves Sighisoara at 23:26. As I've mentioned before, night travel is now my preferred time to move about. As my Granny would have said, " What kind of night-hawk are you?" There was hardly anyone on the train, and it arrived bang on time the next morning. The station hotel knows me well now and allows me to shower and shave in an empty room, before taking their breakfast. I spent a lovely day in Budapest and flew back to Prestwick in the early evening.
The most important thing to do in Budapest is to haggle, especially with the taxi drivers. A trip to the airport can cost as much as Eur 50 or as little as Eur 10. The problem is finding the right driver. I discovered by accident that they can change the charges made per kilometer on their meters, so it is critical to get the price agreed first.
Friday, July 18, 2008
Papanash wars
You may have noticed my emphasis on matters food and drink whilst sunning myself in Romania.
This is because the meal - usually at a completely different time to when we would consider it right to eat - is an integral part of political, cultural and business life. I'm sure this is a hang over from the not-so-distant past, when simply getting enough to eat was everyone's main occupation, and being able to order up food was a Party given right.
For example, today I had nothing at lunchtime, but I did have a plate of spaghetti bolognese at about 4pm, then had what was officially lunch at about 8:30pm. I'll probably skip dinner....
One of Romania's gifts to world cooking is Papanash(sweet fried Romanian cheese balls with sour cream & fruit eg black currants) which I enjoy when it's offered. Tonight it was on the menu in the restaurant across from the flat, and I duly ordered it - as did everyone else in the place.
Now it so happened we had with us the lady who manages the "Rustic" better known here as "Roostick" who is inordinately proud of the size of her papanash. They are praised the length and breadth of Sighisoara. People even on the day they get their pensions come specifically to the Rustic for a plate of Papanash. She makes them with extra cheese, which, for me, makes them a little heavy.
Anyway,as we were munching through our cheeseyballs ( light as a feather because they are made with less cheese and more flour) in walks one of the old men who normally eats the Rustic papanash. He doesn't have much money but he does like his papanash, and duly ordered a plateful.
Well if you had called the lady every bad word you can imagine she could not have reacted with more vigour. She marched across to the man and asked him why he was eating papanash not at the Rustic.
" Well, these ones here are a little lighter, and they are better at night than your ones, which are too heavy at night..."
He never got any further. The lady in question promptly burst into tears and fled from the scene. It rather put a dampener on the evening, but we all managed to eat our deserts.
We finished her's too.
This is because the meal - usually at a completely different time to when we would consider it right to eat - is an integral part of political, cultural and business life. I'm sure this is a hang over from the not-so-distant past, when simply getting enough to eat was everyone's main occupation, and being able to order up food was a Party given right.
For example, today I had nothing at lunchtime, but I did have a plate of spaghetti bolognese at about 4pm, then had what was officially lunch at about 8:30pm. I'll probably skip dinner....
One of Romania's gifts to world cooking is Papanash(sweet fried Romanian cheese balls with sour cream & fruit eg black currants) which I enjoy when it's offered. Tonight it was on the menu in the restaurant across from the flat, and I duly ordered it - as did everyone else in the place.
Now it so happened we had with us the lady who manages the "Rustic" better known here as "Roostick" who is inordinately proud of the size of her papanash. They are praised the length and breadth of Sighisoara. People even on the day they get their pensions come specifically to the Rustic for a plate of Papanash. She makes them with extra cheese, which, for me, makes them a little heavy.
Anyway,as we were munching through our cheeseyballs ( light as a feather because they are made with less cheese and more flour) in walks one of the old men who normally eats the Rustic papanash. He doesn't have much money but he does like his papanash, and duly ordered a plateful.
Well if you had called the lady every bad word you can imagine she could not have reacted with more vigour. She marched across to the man and asked him why he was eating papanash not at the Rustic.
" Well, these ones here are a little lighter, and they are better at night than your ones, which are too heavy at night..."
He never got any further. The lady in question promptly burst into tears and fled from the scene. It rather put a dampener on the evening, but we all managed to eat our deserts.
We finished her's too.
Crisis!
Yesterday, when I went to get the cheese Fornetti at about 9am, there were none. I was told to come back in an hour. 10 am NONE! 11 am NONE! .. and the Fornetti shop shuts at 11:30.
This morning, I was there just after 7am and bought the biggest bag of cheese Fornetti you have ever seen. Then I asked for "Mere" ( pronounced a bit like merray) which are the apple ones that Alin likes.
THERE WERE NONE!
So I took an executive decision and bought the sweet poppyseed ones for him.
As we set off for our fifth appointment ( the first was my haircut which costs about GBP1 here, the second the lawyer, the third the bank and the fourth ... actually I can't remember) we were both happily munching away. Alin turned to me and said. " Well, Mr.K, the world crisis is over!"
And do you know, I actually felt as if it were true.
This morning, I was there just after 7am and bought the biggest bag of cheese Fornetti you have ever seen. Then I asked for "Mere" ( pronounced a bit like merray) which are the apple ones that Alin likes.
THERE WERE NONE!
So I took an executive decision and bought the sweet poppyseed ones for him.
As we set off for our fifth appointment ( the first was my haircut which costs about GBP1 here, the second the lawyer, the third the bank and the fourth ... actually I can't remember) we were both happily munching away. Alin turned to me and said. " Well, Mr.K, the world crisis is over!"
And do you know, I actually felt as if it were true.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Local Action Group Meeting
Today was the big LAG meeting which started about 11am and finished just before 7pm.
Here in Romania everything is debated endlessly, which is why an agenda of 5 points took 8 hours to discuss.
The main talking point today was a man from the Ministry of Agriculture, who came bearing gifts - and was promptly shot down by all sides as his ministry had manifestly NOT done what it was supposed to have done. He did promise to take all the complaints back and sort them out, but the concensus of the meeting was that we would need to get on and do it ourselves - something I heartily agree with. We were strengthened by several new Mayors who had just won their places in the recent elections. These men ( and 1 woman) had all wanted to be involved in the LAG but the previous incumbents had been very old school. Now, we are reinvigorated.
One of our LAG members is Willy Schuster, the only remaining Saxon in Mosna, who is seriously into eco everything. His brochure for different cheeses, cream, yoghurt, herbs and what not has a quote from the Bible - "The Lord God took the man and put him into the Garden of Eden to dress and to keep it "( Genesis 2:15).
This really is the Garden of Eden come to life.I've never been more sure of anything but that we have to do our utmost to keep it if we are to deserve our primary place on Earth.
It's been a very busy few days, and will be even busier tomorrow and Saturday. The lawyer has really earned her money this week ( by the way, one standard contract translation today was Ron 25 - how does she make it up?) as has Alin, who has driven nearly 1000 miles ferrying people about. Work starts here at 7am, so quite often we have to be on the doorstep at that time. Bed is never until after midnight. I'm sure he is delighted when I go away again and he can get some sleep. If you have a look at page 2 here, Alin is in the bottom right hand picture with the dark hair and the sunglasses. But please have a look at the other pictures further down. You will get a feel for why I love it here.
The day ended with an excellent meal about 9pm ( it always takes a couple of hours to get the odd bits of business sorted after the meetings). Tonight was excellent celery soup, the most delicious garlic filled sausages, and, as ever, the cabbage salad. It's just as well we all had the same as we are all seriously pongy.
Tomorrow will be accountants,checking a couple of houses, builders and finally trying to conclude a deal for an old mill we want to turn into a packing shed. Saturday will be the best day - we are in the fields and hills again to check that the areas shown on maps correspond to the property titles.I enjoy this more than anything else here.
There are potential pitfalls to be avoided - there are for example 3 old woman all with identical names, who all live in the same street, and all in a row at 133, 134 and 135. They are not related at all. At some point they swapped various parcels of land for ease of working, and now noone really knows who owns what. Fortunately, City Hall takes a pragmatic view of these things - as long as we have a piece of paper saying we own such and such a piece of land, as certified by the Notary, they will register it. It's only 17 years since the land was returned to its owners, and it will take another generation for it all to be properly - as Alin says - "registrated."
I'm sure there will be a barbecue Saturday night before I am poured onto the train for Budapest.
Here in Romania everything is debated endlessly, which is why an agenda of 5 points took 8 hours to discuss.
The main talking point today was a man from the Ministry of Agriculture, who came bearing gifts - and was promptly shot down by all sides as his ministry had manifestly NOT done what it was supposed to have done. He did promise to take all the complaints back and sort them out, but the concensus of the meeting was that we would need to get on and do it ourselves - something I heartily agree with. We were strengthened by several new Mayors who had just won their places in the recent elections. These men ( and 1 woman) had all wanted to be involved in the LAG but the previous incumbents had been very old school. Now, we are reinvigorated.
One of our LAG members is Willy Schuster, the only remaining Saxon in Mosna, who is seriously into eco everything. His brochure for different cheeses, cream, yoghurt, herbs and what not has a quote from the Bible - "The Lord God took the man and put him into the Garden of Eden to dress and to keep it "( Genesis 2:15).
This really is the Garden of Eden come to life.I've never been more sure of anything but that we have to do our utmost to keep it if we are to deserve our primary place on Earth.
It's been a very busy few days, and will be even busier tomorrow and Saturday. The lawyer has really earned her money this week ( by the way, one standard contract translation today was Ron 25 - how does she make it up?) as has Alin, who has driven nearly 1000 miles ferrying people about. Work starts here at 7am, so quite often we have to be on the doorstep at that time. Bed is never until after midnight. I'm sure he is delighted when I go away again and he can get some sleep. If you have a look at page 2 here, Alin is in the bottom right hand picture with the dark hair and the sunglasses. But please have a look at the other pictures further down. You will get a feel for why I love it here.
The day ended with an excellent meal about 9pm ( it always takes a couple of hours to get the odd bits of business sorted after the meetings). Tonight was excellent celery soup, the most delicious garlic filled sausages, and, as ever, the cabbage salad. It's just as well we all had the same as we are all seriously pongy.
Tomorrow will be accountants,checking a couple of houses, builders and finally trying to conclude a deal for an old mill we want to turn into a packing shed. Saturday will be the best day - we are in the fields and hills again to check that the areas shown on maps correspond to the property titles.I enjoy this more than anything else here.
There are potential pitfalls to be avoided - there are for example 3 old woman all with identical names, who all live in the same street, and all in a row at 133, 134 and 135. They are not related at all. At some point they swapped various parcels of land for ease of working, and now noone really knows who owns what. Fortunately, City Hall takes a pragmatic view of these things - as long as we have a piece of paper saying we own such and such a piece of land, as certified by the Notary, they will register it. It's only 17 years since the land was returned to its owners, and it will take another generation for it all to be properly - as Alin says - "registrated."
I'm sure there will be a barbecue Saturday night before I am poured onto the train for Budapest.
Looking back to BGB ( Before Gordon Brown)
I just happened to look at a post I did in February 2007.
I know its not good to say "I told you so", but even then I was predicting the disaster Brown was and is, and that the Tories would form the next Government.
If only I was a betting man.....
I know its not good to say "I told you so", but even then I was predicting the disaster Brown was and is, and that the Tories would form the next Government.
If only I was a betting man.....
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Love
We own a domain name ( stillsexyatsixty.com) and I was doing some work on it. In order to access the information I wanted I had to type in a generated password.
What came up for the password? L-O-V-E.
What could be better?
What came up for the password? L-O-V-E.
What could be better?
Gordon Brown's ineptitude.
Quite by chance I was speaking today to the Romanian equivalent of a QC.
Extremely erudite ( as you would expect), he had a keen interest in all things Anglo-Saxon, having spent a couple of years in the UK earning enough to see himself through university.
Amongst other topics, Grodon Brown's sale of the UK gold reserves some years ago came in for scathing criticism, which is hardly surprising. It was probably the most ill-conceived and certainly the most cack-handed trade that was ever carried out.
The policy ( if that's what it is) which came in for the most derision was Brown's pledge to spend GBP200 million ( or is it GBP400million - noone seems quite sure) buying up newly-built flats for people and calling for first-time buyers to step onto the housing ladder. As even this foreign national, not very attached to UK news said " Does he not know that house prices are falling sharply in UK?"
In fact it could well be he doesn't. I have noticed that politicians always "do something" just when it no longer becomes necessary. One of my most treasured memories is of, I think, Jim Callaghan introducing index-linked gilts. I knew immediately inflation was going to fall.
As anyone with even half a gnat's brain knows, UK house prices are falling at their fastest rate ever. Forget about the drop over the last year - the last 3 months has seen the equivalent of 20% per annum wiped out.
So is this a good time for the government to be spending our money buying houses? No, it is not. Apart from the few housebuilders who might shift a bit of stock ( and at say GBP150,000 per house even GBP400million is only just over 2,500 houses or only 1% of what was sold even in the last 12 months of new build, and only 0.1% of the total sales last year) this is like the gold sale in reverse. Buy it at GBP150,000, sell it later at GBP100,000 if you're lucky. As opposed to sell it at USD 200 and watch it climb to USD 1000.
So, as my Romanian friend said, should he be encouraging youing people to get on the housing ladder? He answered the question himself. No, he should not. I would draw parallels here with Equitable Life, where Brown explicitly mislead thousands of policy holders, and the Ombudsman has said so, and awarded compensation. Whether they will get it is another matter.
If Brown were either prudent, economically competent or capable at all he would know that the economy will sort all these problems in time. Yes there will be hardship, yes some people will lose - but equally some people will profit. You might not like it, but that's the way it happens. Brown's interference will only make things worse.
So just think - we are back to being the "poor man of Europe" we used to be, and an Eastern European, only 19 years out of Communist rule, says so.
When was this phrase last used?
Oh yes, we had a Labour Government then as well, along with the "winter of discontent"
Did I read somewhere about 2.5million government employees going on strike just now? Oh, yes.
Oh well, we've been here before.
Extremely erudite ( as you would expect), he had a keen interest in all things Anglo-Saxon, having spent a couple of years in the UK earning enough to see himself through university.
Amongst other topics, Grodon Brown's sale of the UK gold reserves some years ago came in for scathing criticism, which is hardly surprising. It was probably the most ill-conceived and certainly the most cack-handed trade that was ever carried out.
The policy ( if that's what it is) which came in for the most derision was Brown's pledge to spend GBP200 million ( or is it GBP400million - noone seems quite sure) buying up newly-built flats for people and calling for first-time buyers to step onto the housing ladder. As even this foreign national, not very attached to UK news said " Does he not know that house prices are falling sharply in UK?"
In fact it could well be he doesn't. I have noticed that politicians always "do something" just when it no longer becomes necessary. One of my most treasured memories is of, I think, Jim Callaghan introducing index-linked gilts. I knew immediately inflation was going to fall.
As anyone with even half a gnat's brain knows, UK house prices are falling at their fastest rate ever. Forget about the drop over the last year - the last 3 months has seen the equivalent of 20% per annum wiped out.
So is this a good time for the government to be spending our money buying houses? No, it is not. Apart from the few housebuilders who might shift a bit of stock ( and at say GBP150,000 per house even GBP400million is only just over 2,500 houses or only 1% of what was sold even in the last 12 months of new build, and only 0.1% of the total sales last year) this is like the gold sale in reverse. Buy it at GBP150,000, sell it later at GBP100,000 if you're lucky. As opposed to sell it at USD 200 and watch it climb to USD 1000.
So, as my Romanian friend said, should he be encouraging youing people to get on the housing ladder? He answered the question himself. No, he should not. I would draw parallels here with Equitable Life, where Brown explicitly mislead thousands of policy holders, and the Ombudsman has said so, and awarded compensation. Whether they will get it is another matter.
If Brown were either prudent, economically competent or capable at all he would know that the economy will sort all these problems in time. Yes there will be hardship, yes some people will lose - but equally some people will profit. You might not like it, but that's the way it happens. Brown's interference will only make things worse.
So just think - we are back to being the "poor man of Europe" we used to be, and an Eastern European, only 19 years out of Communist rule, says so.
When was this phrase last used?
Oh yes, we had a Labour Government then as well, along with the "winter of discontent"
Did I read somewhere about 2.5million government employees going on strike just now? Oh, yes.
Oh well, we've been here before.
Lost in translation
In the lawyer's this morning I was much taken with the complete disregard for precise charges for things here. For example, the lady who is the official ( i.e. she has a stamp which says so) translator seems to dream up a figure for her fee which bears no relationship to the work she has done. Today, for three lengthy documents and four other standard sale contracts, she charged Ron 25 i.e. about GBP5. Last time out were just three standard contracts ( which I can now translate better than she does) the fee was about double.On other occasions it has been as low as Ron 10 and as high as Ron 80. The difference? I have absolutely no idea.
One of the drawbacks of having a top-notch lawyer in Sighisoara is that we have to bring the people from the villages about 45 minutes drive away. Some days, Alin does the round trip 4 or even 5 times. Alin usually picks them up and then I go back with him and the passengers on the last return. Today, one of the ladies suffered from travel sickness and we had to stop a time or two.Her sister made fun of her and said it was the result of the moisturiser she used. The two of them fell about laughing and then explained that they were too poor to buy Nivea, so they just used margarine - when they could afford it. The point, of course, is that they are subsistence farmers and have lots of butter which they make themselves - but have to buy the margarine.
The poor here are genuinely poor, in some cases worse off than even sub-Saharan Africa. Today I was in a house with a fire in the centre of the room, no windows ( despite having the gaps where they should be) chickens wandering about and an old lady who uses her back garden as the loo as its good for her vegetables. No longer able to support herself, she wanted to sell her land - all of an acre - which would guarantee her a pension from the state. Her son - who does nothing - wanted her to keep the land, so that when she died he would get it and he could get the benefit, not her.
Alin, being a kind hearted soul, immediately squashed that idea. We did a deal whereby we paid her an annuity as in that way she would get the use of the money and her son would not. The monthly amount was tiny, but together with the state pension it will be enough for her to live on. I also said I would buy her a new pair of glasses as hers were broken and the glass had been sticky-taped together. I put a Ron1 note in her grandchild's tiny hand.
Sometimes I want to cry when I leave these people's houses.
One of the drawbacks of having a top-notch lawyer in Sighisoara is that we have to bring the people from the villages about 45 minutes drive away. Some days, Alin does the round trip 4 or even 5 times. Alin usually picks them up and then I go back with him and the passengers on the last return. Today, one of the ladies suffered from travel sickness and we had to stop a time or two.Her sister made fun of her and said it was the result of the moisturiser she used. The two of them fell about laughing and then explained that they were too poor to buy Nivea, so they just used margarine - when they could afford it. The point, of course, is that they are subsistence farmers and have lots of butter which they make themselves - but have to buy the margarine.
The poor here are genuinely poor, in some cases worse off than even sub-Saharan Africa. Today I was in a house with a fire in the centre of the room, no windows ( despite having the gaps where they should be) chickens wandering about and an old lady who uses her back garden as the loo as its good for her vegetables. No longer able to support herself, she wanted to sell her land - all of an acre - which would guarantee her a pension from the state. Her son - who does nothing - wanted her to keep the land, so that when she died he would get it and he could get the benefit, not her.
Alin, being a kind hearted soul, immediately squashed that idea. We did a deal whereby we paid her an annuity as in that way she would get the use of the money and her son would not. The monthly amount was tiny, but together with the state pension it will be enough for her to live on. I also said I would buy her a new pair of glasses as hers were broken and the glass had been sticky-taped together. I put a Ron1 note in her grandchild's tiny hand.
Sometimes I want to cry when I leave these people's houses.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
There are no ugly women..
You can probably guess I am back in Romania. One would hardly dare utter such a remark in the UK for fear of being attacked as condescending and anti-feminist.
I have been spending my time doing more night time travelling and I've pretty much decided that I will travel overnight in future and not during the day. There are very many fewer people about and those that are travelling seem to be much pleasanter company. I won't bore you with the two trips in UK ( Glasgow to Lancaster and then Lancaster to London - the first departing about 11:30 pm, the second about 3am) nor the 10:30 Mortlake to Winnersh ( accompanied by a mime artist who, I think, had had a couple and refused to converse except through mime. Bit tricky with train inspectors), but will move directly to Budapest to Sighisoara.
Somehow, I was accompanied for the first couple of hours by a lovely little lady ( about 4ft tall and at least 4 ft round) from Macclesfield who was visiting her daughter. She and her husband had moved to Hungary 7 years ago, had a 13 year old daughter who spoke Hungarian fluently ( no mean feat I can tell you) and all of whom swore they would never return to the UK. "England's a bit sad at the moment" said Ellie," I'd leave too except my husband's disabled and I don't want to move him.
Mind you, once he's gone I'll be off like a rocket."
It was the use of " a bit sad" that brought home to me how low Blair and Brown had driven us.
When I woke up I had no idea where I was. The train had been held up by a tree or two that had been blown across the track, so we were 2 hours late. However, I'd never seen the area we were crossing in daylight, and I had an exchange of texts with Alin which finally pinpointed how late we were.
Needless to say, that meant the day started 2 hours late, so we only got to Nemsa about 2pm - 2 hours later than expected - and were met with a tidal wave of property titles and old ladies shaking pieces of paper at us, all demanding attention.
By the time we sorted them all out I was almost unable to understand another "2914/2 is 3700 sq mtrs and she's the sister of the lady's husband who wants to sell 3417/10 of 7300 sq. mtrs on the hill beyond the other one..."
I think we picked up some more land where we wanted it...
Of course, by then it was after 7 pm, so we were already an hour late for the barbecue. This was the mayor's one for the reconsecration of the new cross brought from Spain for the new Church.. only, as with all these sort of things, the Cross had not arrived and the priest from Alma Vii was busy, so it was just a barbecue. We did all raise ourt glasses to the new Cross, and poured a libation on the ground.
Vasily, not noted for his PC attitude, was contemplating the seried ranks of old crones ladeling food onto their plates.
" Na Vasily, " I said ( through Alin) why are you standing looking so thoughful?"
"Well, Mr. King, I was just looking at all these ladies that someone has loved - and a great truth came to me."
"And?" I prompted.
" There are no ugly women - only men who have not drunk enough."
And with that he downed another glass of tuica and wandered off.
I have been spending my time doing more night time travelling and I've pretty much decided that I will travel overnight in future and not during the day. There are very many fewer people about and those that are travelling seem to be much pleasanter company. I won't bore you with the two trips in UK ( Glasgow to Lancaster and then Lancaster to London - the first departing about 11:30 pm, the second about 3am) nor the 10:30 Mortlake to Winnersh ( accompanied by a mime artist who, I think, had had a couple and refused to converse except through mime. Bit tricky with train inspectors), but will move directly to Budapest to Sighisoara.
Somehow, I was accompanied for the first couple of hours by a lovely little lady ( about 4ft tall and at least 4 ft round) from Macclesfield who was visiting her daughter. She and her husband had moved to Hungary 7 years ago, had a 13 year old daughter who spoke Hungarian fluently ( no mean feat I can tell you) and all of whom swore they would never return to the UK. "England's a bit sad at the moment" said Ellie," I'd leave too except my husband's disabled and I don't want to move him.
Mind you, once he's gone I'll be off like a rocket."
It was the use of " a bit sad" that brought home to me how low Blair and Brown had driven us.
When I woke up I had no idea where I was. The train had been held up by a tree or two that had been blown across the track, so we were 2 hours late. However, I'd never seen the area we were crossing in daylight, and I had an exchange of texts with Alin which finally pinpointed how late we were.
Needless to say, that meant the day started 2 hours late, so we only got to Nemsa about 2pm - 2 hours later than expected - and were met with a tidal wave of property titles and old ladies shaking pieces of paper at us, all demanding attention.
By the time we sorted them all out I was almost unable to understand another "2914/2 is 3700 sq mtrs and she's the sister of the lady's husband who wants to sell 3417/10 of 7300 sq. mtrs on the hill beyond the other one..."
I think we picked up some more land where we wanted it...
Of course, by then it was after 7 pm, so we were already an hour late for the barbecue. This was the mayor's one for the reconsecration of the new cross brought from Spain for the new Church.. only, as with all these sort of things, the Cross had not arrived and the priest from Alma Vii was busy, so it was just a barbecue. We did all raise ourt glasses to the new Cross, and poured a libation on the ground.
Vasily, not noted for his PC attitude, was contemplating the seried ranks of old crones ladeling food onto their plates.
" Na Vasily, " I said ( through Alin) why are you standing looking so thoughful?"
"Well, Mr. King, I was just looking at all these ladies that someone has loved - and a great truth came to me."
"And?" I prompted.
" There are no ugly women - only men who have not drunk enough."
And with that he downed another glass of tuica and wandered off.
Monday, July 07, 2008
Social responsibility & personal too.
I missed this earlier - it chimes most excellently with my own views, so it must be right .. er, yes, that's right.
Back to the 50's
I was trying to laugh at Gordon Brown telling us all to eat less and don't throw away so much food. As I say trying, but failing.Guido has an excellent piece on what one can only refer to as a gargantuan feast that the G8 are having over in Japan. Brown's comments rather smack of Marie Antoinette's " Let them eat cake."
Anyway, I am old enough to remember the 50's and food certainly was NOT wasted then. Everything was hoarded and reused. Some of it was certainly a continuing dearth of food since the war years, but quite a lot of it was just old fashioned good housekeeping.
And debt? Anathema. I remember my mother wanted a new Hoover, and bought it on HP about 1956. Her mother was furious with her - and all for 6 shillings a week ( that's 30p. in our profligate times.)
But the thing that sticks in my mind most was the attitude to television.
It was not a question of not being able to afford it. Oh no. It was a question of NOT having that timewaster in the house - said with a gleam of fanaticism in the eye.
What changed attitudes was the Coronation of 1953.
It suddenly became almost a patriotic duty to be able to receive what truly were historic pictures.
It was exciting too. Nowadays there is little or nothing that really excites us - we've been there, done that, bought the T-shirt, buy a bigger car, but it's all just froth and non-sense. I feel really sorry for the present generation. I daresay it's an old man's conceit, but I can't see things being as exciting and as much fun as my generation's time.
In any event, I don't think they'll have any money to do anything with anyway.
Something did excite me today, though. I bought one of those ASUS eee mini laptops. When I was a wee boy there was a fantastic programme on the TV during Children's Hour, called "Billy Bean and his funny machine." It really was amazing, too. Of course, none of it was real, but it was such fun that to this day, any gadget in our household is called a Billy Bean.
So I'm doing this on my new Billy Bean.
Har har har.
Anyway, I am old enough to remember the 50's and food certainly was NOT wasted then. Everything was hoarded and reused. Some of it was certainly a continuing dearth of food since the war years, but quite a lot of it was just old fashioned good housekeeping.
And debt? Anathema. I remember my mother wanted a new Hoover, and bought it on HP about 1956. Her mother was furious with her - and all for 6 shillings a week ( that's 30p. in our profligate times.)
But the thing that sticks in my mind most was the attitude to television.
It was not a question of not being able to afford it. Oh no. It was a question of NOT having that timewaster in the house - said with a gleam of fanaticism in the eye.
What changed attitudes was the Coronation of 1953.
It suddenly became almost a patriotic duty to be able to receive what truly were historic pictures.
It was exciting too. Nowadays there is little or nothing that really excites us - we've been there, done that, bought the T-shirt, buy a bigger car, but it's all just froth and non-sense. I feel really sorry for the present generation. I daresay it's an old man's conceit, but I can't see things being as exciting and as much fun as my generation's time.
In any event, I don't think they'll have any money to do anything with anyway.
Something did excite me today, though. I bought one of those ASUS eee mini laptops. When I was a wee boy there was a fantastic programme on the TV during Children's Hour, called "Billy Bean and his funny machine." It really was amazing, too. Of course, none of it was real, but it was such fun that to this day, any gadget in our household is called a Billy Bean.
So I'm doing this on my new Billy Bean.
Har har har.
IF
The Wonderful Winchester Whisperer has produced the poem in full to which I alluded yesterday.
I'd forgotten just now powerful it is in full - as ever, it's just snatches that come back to me.
If we all lived up to it and stopped our morbid interest in " celebrity", if we took our own responsibility for matters, and we gave our lives to service rather than to selfishness we'd all be better off.
Shakespeare had it right in The Tempest - true freedom consists in service.
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
'Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son.
Sends shivers down my spine, anyway.
I'd forgotten just now powerful it is in full - as ever, it's just snatches that come back to me.
If we all lived up to it and stopped our morbid interest in " celebrity", if we took our own responsibility for matters, and we gave our lives to service rather than to selfishness we'd all be better off.
Shakespeare had it right in The Tempest - true freedom consists in service.
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
'Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son.
Sends shivers down my spine, anyway.
Saturday, July 05, 2008
"C'est la vie"
For reasons I don't understand there has been a distinct increase in the number of people using this expression in recent weeks. It can only be a fatalistic acceptable of the toilet we are all about to go down after Gordon Brown's prudent handling of the economy. As I've said before, this man and his entire set of incompetents never had a principle, never understood the first thing about economics, money, or even human beings. Tony Blair was pretty much the same - except he understood people and how to con them.
So it is with some regret I report this increase in the use of the expression.
I do like it though. In the wonderful poem " If" - which I believe I have always tried to live up to - if you can treat success and failure with equal disdain, you will be a man ( or nowadays I suppose it would have to be " a person". Sigh) So perhaps what's happening is good for the British psyche. We have spent too long complaining, suing for no good reason, wanting the government " to do something" that perhaps we have come to realise that actually no one IS going to do anything and we have to do it for ourselves. The Brits are nothing if not easy going and tolerant, yet stubborn and indomitable when required. Bob Geldof gave a marvellous speech ( reported by Iain Dale) in David Davis' constituency which summed out what we are.
The most poignant " C'est la vie" was definitely Freddy Mercury. Clearly dying, he was interviewed and, when asked whether he had regrets, replied " No - whatever happens it's just - C'est la vie" - and with a shrug of the shoulders that was the end of the interview.
So lets get rid of envy, of jealousy and bitterness, and take on a mantle of getting on with it, good or bad.
And an outlook that is prepared to accept the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, and by opposing, end them.
PS:
Gypsy Rover's owner even uses it about a missed chance to ride on the footplate of a steam train - but there it's cie la vie. Not sure if that's a typo or an attempt to inject an NZ accent.
So it is with some regret I report this increase in the use of the expression.
I do like it though. In the wonderful poem " If" - which I believe I have always tried to live up to - if you can treat success and failure with equal disdain, you will be a man ( or nowadays I suppose it would have to be " a person". Sigh) So perhaps what's happening is good for the British psyche. We have spent too long complaining, suing for no good reason, wanting the government " to do something" that perhaps we have come to realise that actually no one IS going to do anything and we have to do it for ourselves. The Brits are nothing if not easy going and tolerant, yet stubborn and indomitable when required. Bob Geldof gave a marvellous speech ( reported by Iain Dale) in David Davis' constituency which summed out what we are.
The most poignant " C'est la vie" was definitely Freddy Mercury. Clearly dying, he was interviewed and, when asked whether he had regrets, replied " No - whatever happens it's just - C'est la vie" - and with a shrug of the shoulders that was the end of the interview.
So lets get rid of envy, of jealousy and bitterness, and take on a mantle of getting on with it, good or bad.
And an outlook that is prepared to accept the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, and by opposing, end them.
PS:
Gypsy Rover's owner even uses it about a missed chance to ride on the footplate of a steam train - but there it's cie la vie. Not sure if that's a typo or an attempt to inject an NZ accent.
Friday, July 04, 2008
Down and out in Munich
So Mr. Fact had taken himself off for a drink with his pal to a bier-stube in Munich. It was just a bar, nothing special, but in the way of these things rather atmospheric and subterranean.
At a table near the counter there is a grizzly down-and-out slumped in a pool of beer. There is a piano in the corner.
Mr. Fact and his friend order a couple of litres of beer, and take themselves to another table.
All is quiet. There is no one else in the bar. They speak in hushed tones.
Suddenly, the dosser leaps to his feet and charges to the piano, dripping beer from his head.
He collapses on the stool, and begins to play, crashing out a first chord. Mr. Fact and his friend wince.
But then the dosser starts to play the second and third notes, and Mr. Fact ( being a factual sort of person) realises that the music is by Beethoven. The dosser continues most beautifully until the end of the piece. He finishes as many concert pianists do, with arms held straight before him,fingers caressing the keyboard, leaning back, eyes closed in rapture. He holds the last note perfectly.
Then he passes out and topples over backwards onto the floor.
" Just leave him" says the barkeep. " He's the cheapest piano player we've ever had here. He's entitled to 5 litres of beer a night but can't remember beyond two, so we are always marks in (Ed.: it should have been euros). But he does play beautifully doesn't he?"
Mr. Fact agreed - even when the dosser eventually came to and started playing Jazz.
At a table near the counter there is a grizzly down-and-out slumped in a pool of beer. There is a piano in the corner.
Mr. Fact and his friend order a couple of litres of beer, and take themselves to another table.
All is quiet. There is no one else in the bar. They speak in hushed tones.
Suddenly, the dosser leaps to his feet and charges to the piano, dripping beer from his head.
He collapses on the stool, and begins to play, crashing out a first chord. Mr. Fact and his friend wince.
But then the dosser starts to play the second and third notes, and Mr. Fact ( being a factual sort of person) realises that the music is by Beethoven. The dosser continues most beautifully until the end of the piece. He finishes as many concert pianists do, with arms held straight before him,fingers caressing the keyboard, leaning back, eyes closed in rapture. He holds the last note perfectly.
Then he passes out and topples over backwards onto the floor.
" Just leave him" says the barkeep. " He's the cheapest piano player we've ever had here. He's entitled to 5 litres of beer a night but can't remember beyond two, so we are always marks in (Ed.: it should have been euros). But he does play beautifully doesn't he?"
Mr. Fact agreed - even when the dosser eventually came to and started playing Jazz.
Wednesday, July 02, 2008
The despicable way this Government treats the Gurkhas.
I know I go on about it, but we have yet another instance of how badly the Gurkhas are treated. The Spectator Coffee House has a bit on it. Please go online at www.gwt.org.uk and donate.
REALLY cheap
My car was in this morning for it's MOT ( you can tell I'm cheap just from that sentence).
However, whilst in the Peugeot dealer, their maintenance manager told me the following story.
He had gone to one of the major garage groups in Scotland to get a spare part for a Renault. He collected it and signed for it in the usual way.
" Here" said the stores manager " You're entitled to a scratch card"
"No thanks," said Willie, " I never bother with those things"
" Naw naw - here, you have to take it."
" I don't want it"
" Here, I'll scratch it for you."
" I'm not bothered"
scratch scratch scratch,
" Look, you've got a star. It means you've won a prize."
" What's the prize?"
Store man reaches under counter and produces a Mars bar.
Willie is astonished, and reaches for the bar.
" No you can't have it. It's only for members of the public." And the store man proceeds to eat the bar.
Through munching teeth he says " Actually all the bars are counted against the cards and I have to sign for them every day."
A property surveyor tells me he has taken to turning off the hot water each night when he leaves his office.
" Every mickle makes a muckle," as your granny almost certainly didn't say.
However, whilst in the Peugeot dealer, their maintenance manager told me the following story.
He had gone to one of the major garage groups in Scotland to get a spare part for a Renault. He collected it and signed for it in the usual way.
" Here" said the stores manager " You're entitled to a scratch card"
"No thanks," said Willie, " I never bother with those things"
" Naw naw - here, you have to take it."
" I don't want it"
" Here, I'll scratch it for you."
" I'm not bothered"
scratch scratch scratch,
" Look, you've got a star. It means you've won a prize."
" What's the prize?"
Store man reaches under counter and produces a Mars bar.
Willie is astonished, and reaches for the bar.
" No you can't have it. It's only for members of the public." And the store man proceeds to eat the bar.
Through munching teeth he says " Actually all the bars are counted against the cards and I have to sign for them every day."
A property surveyor tells me he has taken to turning off the hot water each night when he leaves his office.
" Every mickle makes a muckle," as your granny almost certainly didn't say.
The Honour's system is cheap.
I've never really bothered about the UK Honours system, but yesterday a relative of Mrs. Lear got his CBE. Very pretty it is too.
It was the Holyrood Garden Party yesterday with the investiture beforehand. Fascinators everywhere, masses of ill-fitting ladies shoes, and rather good sandwiches.
Mrs. L's relative then had 16 for a private dinner in a venerable club (which was rather good) and a jolly evening was had by all. The lady on my right ( about to have her 40th birthday) was complaining bitterly that the people she was due to go on holiday with to a villa sleeping 16 had (she assured me) never had a days discord in 12 years of marriage, and had decided to split up and ruin their hokiday. The husband simply announced he didn't love her any more and left. As the wife was her friend, I opined that the wife and child could still come, but my neighbour refused to contemplate it.
Anyway, whilst being shown the CBE, I asked where the recipient's previous gong was.
" Oh," he said," They make you give them back"
And it's true. Unless you die clutching it, if you get a new one you have to give the old one back. The same applies to all orders.
This means, of course, that there is a huge saving on gongs.
Bit cheapskate I'd have said.
It was the Holyrood Garden Party yesterday with the investiture beforehand. Fascinators everywhere, masses of ill-fitting ladies shoes, and rather good sandwiches.
Mrs. L's relative then had 16 for a private dinner in a venerable club (which was rather good) and a jolly evening was had by all. The lady on my right ( about to have her 40th birthday) was complaining bitterly that the people she was due to go on holiday with to a villa sleeping 16 had (she assured me) never had a days discord in 12 years of marriage, and had decided to split up and ruin their hokiday. The husband simply announced he didn't love her any more and left. As the wife was her friend, I opined that the wife and child could still come, but my neighbour refused to contemplate it.
Anyway, whilst being shown the CBE, I asked where the recipient's previous gong was.
" Oh," he said," They make you give them back"
And it's true. Unless you die clutching it, if you get a new one you have to give the old one back. The same applies to all orders.
This means, of course, that there is a huge saving on gongs.
Bit cheapskate I'd have said.
Friday, June 27, 2008
I'm Cheap
People who know me will be aware how magnificently generous I am - except to myself.
Further to my night time journeys for peanuts, I have managed to figure out some extraordinary cheap train fares about the place - not necessarily convenient, but cheap. Glasgow to London via Edinburgh for £15.70 and return via a wait in Warrington for a mere £12.70 - both booked the day before travel. Even inconvenient flights were into the £200 bracket.
And overnight? A B&B in Barnes ( I was admittedly meeting someone just nearby early the next day) which, had there been two of us,would have been a total of £38.50.
Unfortunately , as there was only me, it was still £38.50.
The total for a day and a half in London and overnight was thus £66.90 which is actually less than it costs me to stay at home per day.
Mind you Mrs. Lear has opined that she is very happy for me to travel any way I like - just as long as I don't take her with me. Or if I do the same thing has the decimal point moved to the right.
PS Teleograph has its social stereotype today as the cheap traveller. I don't recongise myself at all...
Further to my night time journeys for peanuts, I have managed to figure out some extraordinary cheap train fares about the place - not necessarily convenient, but cheap. Glasgow to London via Edinburgh for £15.70 and return via a wait in Warrington for a mere £12.70 - both booked the day before travel. Even inconvenient flights were into the £200 bracket.
And overnight? A B&B in Barnes ( I was admittedly meeting someone just nearby early the next day) which, had there been two of us,would have been a total of £38.50.
Unfortunately , as there was only me, it was still £38.50.
The total for a day and a half in London and overnight was thus £66.90 which is actually less than it costs me to stay at home per day.
Mind you Mrs. Lear has opined that she is very happy for me to travel any way I like - just as long as I don't take her with me. Or if I do the same thing has the decimal point moved to the right.
PS Teleograph has its social stereotype today as the cheap traveller. I don't recongise myself at all...
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
My Winter Fuel Allowance
As I become 60 on Sptember 3rd, I have been sent a form to fill in to collect £125 or £250 depending on my circumstances.
Now a few things come to mind as I check this form.
Nowhere does it say what the circumstances have to be to get one or the other sum of money.
It clearly has my birth-date, my NI number ( I always think of it as National HEALTH Insurance - but then I'm old) my address and my full name on the form. The accompanying leaflet tells me a) my Date of Birth is unchecked and b) my NI number is unverified as well.
Now if that's the case, how could they send me the form in the first place?
I have to send them my ORIGINAL birth certificate. This ignores the fact that all this information is actually stored by the Government both in the NI computers and the Registrar of Births Deaths and Marriages computers and ledgers.
So instead of a couple of clicks on a computer, a complete industry/department has been set up to receive bits of paper, look at them, put some ticks on another bit of paper, initial it, and then post the original bits of paper back to me.
I mean, really.
PS I was collecting a cheque last night for the Gurkha Welfare Trust from a Rotary Club in Renfrew. I know these people are not left-leaners in any way, but I was staggered at the vitriol and hate that emerged about Labour, Gordon Brown and the Government in Westminster in general.
These are the people who should want to keep the Union, and who probably voted for Tony Blair.
They no longer want the Union nor anything to do with Labour.
Just shows how good a leader Brown has been.
I think "has been" is the appropriate expression.
Now a few things come to mind as I check this form.
Nowhere does it say what the circumstances have to be to get one or the other sum of money.
It clearly has my birth-date, my NI number ( I always think of it as National HEALTH Insurance - but then I'm old) my address and my full name on the form. The accompanying leaflet tells me a) my Date of Birth is unchecked and b) my NI number is unverified as well.
Now if that's the case, how could they send me the form in the first place?
I have to send them my ORIGINAL birth certificate. This ignores the fact that all this information is actually stored by the Government both in the NI computers and the Registrar of Births Deaths and Marriages computers and ledgers.
So instead of a couple of clicks on a computer, a complete industry/department has been set up to receive bits of paper, look at them, put some ticks on another bit of paper, initial it, and then post the original bits of paper back to me.
I mean, really.
PS I was collecting a cheque last night for the Gurkha Welfare Trust from a Rotary Club in Renfrew. I know these people are not left-leaners in any way, but I was staggered at the vitriol and hate that emerged about Labour, Gordon Brown and the Government in Westminster in general.
These are the people who should want to keep the Union, and who probably voted for Tony Blair.
They no longer want the Union nor anything to do with Labour.
Just shows how good a leader Brown has been.
I think "has been" is the appropriate expression.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
More on the Real Economy
Some little ******* stuck a nail in one of my tyres this morning, so off to get it fixed.
I was the only person in what is normally a very busy tyre place. The boss-man told me that it's been the same since about the end of January. People are using their cars less and driving slower, hence not needing so many tyres. He bought a new car in January when it cost him £58 to fill up. Now it costs £74. His mate owns a petrol station and he's down about 20% from last year in throughput, although his cashflow is well up.
The most interesting bit was the cost of filling his petrol tank. That is clearly a statistic that people latch on to ( viz. the publican in Cheshire recently) and certainly I've noticed the same thing.
We're heading for a serious downturn.
I was the only person in what is normally a very busy tyre place. The boss-man told me that it's been the same since about the end of January. People are using their cars less and driving slower, hence not needing so many tyres. He bought a new car in January when it cost him £58 to fill up. Now it costs £74. His mate owns a petrol station and he's down about 20% from last year in throughput, although his cashflow is well up.
The most interesting bit was the cost of filling his petrol tank. That is clearly a statistic that people latch on to ( viz. the publican in Cheshire recently) and certainly I've noticed the same thing.
We're heading for a serious downturn.
Monday, June 23, 2008
Death comes unexpectedly
I've always liked that quote from Karl Malden in Polyanna. It seems to me to encapsulate the human condition. Doctors have told me that dead people frequently have a surprised look on their faces, even if they have been ill for some time.
Except that people seem to be aware when it is near for them.
The other day a friend was telling me about his mother, who, well in her 90s, still spent a lot of time checking her bank balances, even though she could hardly move. She hated being deaf and less than able. Conversation became difficult.
And yet she clung on.
My friend was slightly surprised when she was finally taken to hospital and diagnosed with a blood clot. She died quite quickly thereafter.
My friend had been in a very difficult situation for many years, but finally, recently, the position had resolved itself, both in his own mind and in fact.
I would maintain that the old lady kept going until she knew my friend was settled and that everything would be all right. Although he had never spoken to her about it, I would suggest his demeanour told her everything she needed to know.
RIP
Except that people seem to be aware when it is near for them.
The other day a friend was telling me about his mother, who, well in her 90s, still spent a lot of time checking her bank balances, even though she could hardly move. She hated being deaf and less than able. Conversation became difficult.
And yet she clung on.
My friend was slightly surprised when she was finally taken to hospital and diagnosed with a blood clot. She died quite quickly thereafter.
My friend had been in a very difficult situation for many years, but finally, recently, the position had resolved itself, both in his own mind and in fact.
I would maintain that the old lady kept going until she knew my friend was settled and that everything would be all right. Although he had never spoken to her about it, I would suggest his demeanour told her everything she needed to know.
RIP
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Lonesomeness.com
I have been doing some work on domain names today.
One of the domains we own is Lonesomeness.com. For a variety of reasons I have been changing some of the servers over, from one monetizer to another. When you add a domain, a suggested category comes up.
When I typed in lonesomeness.com, the suggested category was " Diseases"
I'd never really thought of it like that.
The really great thing about it is it isn't catching.
One of the domains we own is Lonesomeness.com. For a variety of reasons I have been changing some of the servers over, from one monetizer to another. When you add a domain, a suggested category comes up.
When I typed in lonesomeness.com, the suggested category was " Diseases"
I'd never really thought of it like that.
The really great thing about it is it isn't catching.
Friday, June 20, 2008
Night Rider
For a variety of reasons ( mainly available dates and my perennial meanness) I have spent most of a couple of nights in airports and train stations over the last ten days or so.
I'm actually thinking of writing a book about it - I found it fascinating.
The first one was in Stansted, when a late flight from Prestwick gave me a three hour wait for check in to open to Pisa. You might ask why Pisa as I've been in Romania. Suffice it to say there is a direct flight from Bergamo ( 4 hours away) direct to Cluj in Transylvania. Yes, quite.
Anyway, there I was having a cup of coffee at 1am, doing my emails, and all around me were literally hundreds of other people doing exactly the same thing. I know Stansted is a busy airport, but it appears that it is almost impossible to get there for check-in for their 05:30 and 06:00 departures. So lots of people, reliant on public transport, take the last train out and then just sit there.
There is the endless whine of the floor cleaning machine, expertly zig-zagged through recumbent figures. All the cleaners seemed to be speaking Romanian or Polish. There was one Brit in overall charge, who could only speak to the two groups via the self-appointed leader of each nationality. And they all spent most of the time on their mobile phones. Whether any actual instructions were delivered or received is, I would suggest, entirely open to debate.
Coming back, I ended up in Liverpool airport until about 2am, where I was accosted for money every few minutes. But I did meet an extremely helpful Arriva Bus man, who told me where to go to get some sleep and even where to get the bus to take me near to Lime Street Station.
Only it didn't go near the station. The driver took me TO the station. It was like having a rather large private taxi, and half way there the driver stopped to pick up his mate who was going somewhere else.
Once at the station, it emerged it didn't open for another half hour, but the head cleaner ( no Poles here, only Scousers - presumably they worked for even less than the Poles) took me across the road to a 24 hour cafe for taxi drivers. We spent the half hour eating the most delicious bacon and tomato sandwiches and drinking freshly brewed Cona coffee, and chatting of this and that. There was a riotous card school in one corner, and memorabilia of both Everton and Liverpool on the walls. We sauntered back to the station, where he let me in ten minutes early, let me into the loo for free, and made sure I got on the right train.
Which went to Manchester, where I had to change to get the train to Glasgow.
Now Manchester Piccadilly was seriously jolly. It was literally crammed with young people all in party gear waiting for the first trains to take them home to bed. They rode up and down the escalators whilst the staff looked on benevolently, until one young man fell over trying to run up a down escalator.
" Now now," said the watcher," You'll hurt yourself doing that". Which indeed he had as he was out cold - not from concussion but from alcohol.
" We just put them in the waiting room to sober up, " the watcher confided, as he and his mate dragged the now-snoring young man along. They opened the door to the waiting room, and dragged him into the middle of the floor where there were about another 30 assorted snoring males and females.
" Do you ever get any trouble? " I asked.
" Nah, " said his mate. " They're well beyond causing any problems by the time they get here. We sometimes have to throw water on them to wake them up before 6 as that's when the coppers come on duty, but other than that, not much to bother about."
I finally got onto the Glasgow train just after 4 and was able to sleep most of the way north - except when the " Train Manager" changed at Carlisle and woke everyone up, telling us so.
I rather liked the Virgin description of Glasgow as a place to visit.
"Follow the banks of the river as it winds through the city, and take a summer walk to Ibrox."
Ibrox is where Rangers play.
They are known as the Huns.
And behave rather like them during WWII.
I'm actually thinking of writing a book about it - I found it fascinating.
The first one was in Stansted, when a late flight from Prestwick gave me a three hour wait for check in to open to Pisa. You might ask why Pisa as I've been in Romania. Suffice it to say there is a direct flight from Bergamo ( 4 hours away) direct to Cluj in Transylvania. Yes, quite.
Anyway, there I was having a cup of coffee at 1am, doing my emails, and all around me were literally hundreds of other people doing exactly the same thing. I know Stansted is a busy airport, but it appears that it is almost impossible to get there for check-in for their 05:30 and 06:00 departures. So lots of people, reliant on public transport, take the last train out and then just sit there.
There is the endless whine of the floor cleaning machine, expertly zig-zagged through recumbent figures. All the cleaners seemed to be speaking Romanian or Polish. There was one Brit in overall charge, who could only speak to the two groups via the self-appointed leader of each nationality. And they all spent most of the time on their mobile phones. Whether any actual instructions were delivered or received is, I would suggest, entirely open to debate.
Coming back, I ended up in Liverpool airport until about 2am, where I was accosted for money every few minutes. But I did meet an extremely helpful Arriva Bus man, who told me where to go to get some sleep and even where to get the bus to take me near to Lime Street Station.
Only it didn't go near the station. The driver took me TO the station. It was like having a rather large private taxi, and half way there the driver stopped to pick up his mate who was going somewhere else.
Once at the station, it emerged it didn't open for another half hour, but the head cleaner ( no Poles here, only Scousers - presumably they worked for even less than the Poles) took me across the road to a 24 hour cafe for taxi drivers. We spent the half hour eating the most delicious bacon and tomato sandwiches and drinking freshly brewed Cona coffee, and chatting of this and that. There was a riotous card school in one corner, and memorabilia of both Everton and Liverpool on the walls. We sauntered back to the station, where he let me in ten minutes early, let me into the loo for free, and made sure I got on the right train.
Which went to Manchester, where I had to change to get the train to Glasgow.
Now Manchester Piccadilly was seriously jolly. It was literally crammed with young people all in party gear waiting for the first trains to take them home to bed. They rode up and down the escalators whilst the staff looked on benevolently, until one young man fell over trying to run up a down escalator.
" Now now," said the watcher," You'll hurt yourself doing that". Which indeed he had as he was out cold - not from concussion but from alcohol.
" We just put them in the waiting room to sober up, " the watcher confided, as he and his mate dragged the now-snoring young man along. They opened the door to the waiting room, and dragged him into the middle of the floor where there were about another 30 assorted snoring males and females.
" Do you ever get any trouble? " I asked.
" Nah, " said his mate. " They're well beyond causing any problems by the time they get here. We sometimes have to throw water on them to wake them up before 6 as that's when the coppers come on duty, but other than that, not much to bother about."
I finally got onto the Glasgow train just after 4 and was able to sleep most of the way north - except when the " Train Manager" changed at Carlisle and woke everyone up, telling us so.
I rather liked the Virgin description of Glasgow as a place to visit.
"Follow the banks of the river as it winds through the city, and take a summer walk to Ibrox."
Ibrox is where Rangers play.
They are known as the Huns.
And behave rather like them during WWII.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
The Flower Ladies of Sighisoara
Now here's a nice little story.
Over the last few months I have noticed an increase in little old ladies selling a few bunches of flowers around town. You may recall the basket of violets I bought some months ago and handed round to various people.
Anyway, whilst waiting for Alin today sitting in the medieval square, one little old lady was doing her trade. I hadn't watched any of them before.
People were coming up to her and taking pictures. She put on the sweetest, slightly sad smile, proferring a bunch of mixed wild flowers. Everyone refused them ( of course, they are tourists, what are they going to do with them?) but handed her a small note or a few coins.
Now you may recall that the basket of flowers I bought cost about GBP1. Well, within about 10 minutes, this lady today had been given about GBP6.
Not long afterwards, another little old lady came along and took about half the money away.
I was fascinated, and when Alin arrived, we went over to the flower lady and asked her about her trade.
Naturally cagey ( we could have been tax inspectors I suppose) she admitted that all the ladies were employed by one old lady who effectively controlled the pitches. Half of everything they earned went to this higher up lady, who provided them all with the few flowers they had.
It then dawned on me that of course their business was not selling flowers - it was having their pictures taken. When I put this to her, the lady admitted that on a good day she could earn in total about GBP50 - ie GBP25 to herself. This is the equivalent a week's wages. She also told me the boss lady had started about 4 years ago just herself, and had now built up her business to control 30 little old flower ladies. She had to pay for their licences and pitches to the City Hall, but, naturally, noone else would be allowed a look in as she made healthy contributions to the Mayor's reelection fund.
The nicest part about it was that aspiring employees had to pass a smile test - if it wasn't sweet enough, or sad enough, they didn't get taken on.
Lovely.
Over the last few months I have noticed an increase in little old ladies selling a few bunches of flowers around town. You may recall the basket of violets I bought some months ago and handed round to various people.
Anyway, whilst waiting for Alin today sitting in the medieval square, one little old lady was doing her trade. I hadn't watched any of them before.
People were coming up to her and taking pictures. She put on the sweetest, slightly sad smile, proferring a bunch of mixed wild flowers. Everyone refused them ( of course, they are tourists, what are they going to do with them?) but handed her a small note or a few coins.
Now you may recall that the basket of flowers I bought cost about GBP1. Well, within about 10 minutes, this lady today had been given about GBP6.
Not long afterwards, another little old lady came along and took about half the money away.
I was fascinated, and when Alin arrived, we went over to the flower lady and asked her about her trade.
Naturally cagey ( we could have been tax inspectors I suppose) she admitted that all the ladies were employed by one old lady who effectively controlled the pitches. Half of everything they earned went to this higher up lady, who provided them all with the few flowers they had.
It then dawned on me that of course their business was not selling flowers - it was having their pictures taken. When I put this to her, the lady admitted that on a good day she could earn in total about GBP50 - ie GBP25 to herself. This is the equivalent a week's wages. She also told me the boss lady had started about 4 years ago just herself, and had now built up her business to control 30 little old flower ladies. She had to pay for their licences and pitches to the City Hall, but, naturally, noone else would be allowed a look in as she made healthy contributions to the Mayor's reelection fund.
The nicest part about it was that aspiring employees had to pass a smile test - if it wasn't sweet enough, or sad enough, they didn't get taken on.
Lovely.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Hard work
It's been hard work today getting anyone to talk of anything other than the crucial Romania -Holland match tonight, along-side the equally critical Italy-France.
Romanians, perhaps for the first time ever, are united in their support for something.
They are not confident, but they are determined they will all be watching and shrieking at the top of their voices. There are lots of different parties on the go, and I've been invited to the one at the "Rustic" ( pronounced "roostick") in Sighisoara. It's where I eat the schnitzel & farmer's potatotes, absolutely delicious.
This being Romania, you can't get into any of these parties unless you have a connection. Mine is with the owner of the main hotel here who stood for Mayor of Sighisoara recently, and came last. You might think that isn't too impressive, until you know that this is very much a "pay your dues" society. There were six candidates. The incumbent mayor won in the second round for his second term. Next time, he will have to stand down to let the runner-up this time win. So in 8 years time, my friend will be the runner up and 4 years after that he will get to be mayor and recoup all the money it will have cost him. You might wonder about the arithmetic of this, but believe me, this is what is going to happen. Anyway Adi also owns the Rustic, and has closed it for his friends tonight.
Why am I not with the Mayor of Mosna, I hear you ask.
Yesterday was the LAG meeting, followed by the official Mayoral inauguration dinner.
I think the best thing is to pull a veil over it. The City Hall this morning was shut, and, although I saw the Mayor, he assured me he had eaten a bad sarmale and was going home.
What of the potential results tonight?
The lady who sells me the morning Fornetti ( sort of mini sausage-rolls, but with cheese in them) has had hundreds of people telling her the results. So she has taken the average.
Holand 3 Romania 1. Italy 2 France 1.
You heard it here first.
Romanians, perhaps for the first time ever, are united in their support for something.
They are not confident, but they are determined they will all be watching and shrieking at the top of their voices. There are lots of different parties on the go, and I've been invited to the one at the "Rustic" ( pronounced "roostick") in Sighisoara. It's where I eat the schnitzel & farmer's potatotes, absolutely delicious.
This being Romania, you can't get into any of these parties unless you have a connection. Mine is with the owner of the main hotel here who stood for Mayor of Sighisoara recently, and came last. You might think that isn't too impressive, until you know that this is very much a "pay your dues" society. There were six candidates. The incumbent mayor won in the second round for his second term. Next time, he will have to stand down to let the runner-up this time win. So in 8 years time, my friend will be the runner up and 4 years after that he will get to be mayor and recoup all the money it will have cost him. You might wonder about the arithmetic of this, but believe me, this is what is going to happen. Anyway Adi also owns the Rustic, and has closed it for his friends tonight.
Why am I not with the Mayor of Mosna, I hear you ask.
Yesterday was the LAG meeting, followed by the official Mayoral inauguration dinner.
I think the best thing is to pull a veil over it. The City Hall this morning was shut, and, although I saw the Mayor, he assured me he had eaten a bad sarmale and was going home.
What of the potential results tonight?
The lady who sells me the morning Fornetti ( sort of mini sausage-rolls, but with cheese in them) has had hundreds of people telling her the results. So she has taken the average.
Holand 3 Romania 1. Italy 2 France 1.
You heard it here first.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
The Mayor's Barbeque
I can't remember if I mentioned that there have been elections in Romania for all local & regional council posts and councils.
The Mayor of Mosna was returned with95% of the votes cast.
He held a barbeque to celebrate and invited many friends and supporters, which, I'm delighted to say, included me.There was of course lots of delicious food ( a whole pig, a whole sheep, a whole cow for starters) as well as the usual cabbage salad, tomatoes and chips, fried in olive oil over a huge fire-pit.
The drink was wine, tuika ( a sort of lethal Romanian whisky - it never gets aged more than about 3 weeks) champagne ( a gift from the mayor of the twin town in Germany) and liqura di padura, a sort of fruit liquor which everyone says is very non-alcoholic, until you find out the basic recipe is to start with 50 litres of neat alcohol....
Anyway, as you can imagine it was all great fun, and anyone is invited - his opponents as well.
The Mayor gave me some of his election literature, which showed him and his slogan " Man of deeds not words" and on the back seven concrete policies ( not aspirations or waffle)
Afterwards I was invited back to his house for a coffee, and I was saying that I was impressed with his policies.
His wife disappeared for a moment and came back with two other flyers.
The first was from 8 years ago when he first stood for mayor. The flyer showed a younger mayor, but the same slogan. On the back were seven concrete policies ( things like central heating for the school, not targets which can be manipulated)
The second was from four years ago. Same thing, but on the back were 7 new policies, and the list of the previous 7. Beside each was one word. "Delivered".
I asked him why he didn't have the delivered message on this year's flyer.
" Obvious" he said." Everyone knows now what I say I do. I don't need to make the point any more. So the people know they will get the new sewage system I have been working on for 5 years within the next 4."
God I wish we could have politicians like that.
The Mayor of Mosna was returned with95% of the votes cast.
He held a barbeque to celebrate and invited many friends and supporters, which, I'm delighted to say, included me.There was of course lots of delicious food ( a whole pig, a whole sheep, a whole cow for starters) as well as the usual cabbage salad, tomatoes and chips, fried in olive oil over a huge fire-pit.
The drink was wine, tuika ( a sort of lethal Romanian whisky - it never gets aged more than about 3 weeks) champagne ( a gift from the mayor of the twin town in Germany) and liqura di padura, a sort of fruit liquor which everyone says is very non-alcoholic, until you find out the basic recipe is to start with 50 litres of neat alcohol....
Anyway, as you can imagine it was all great fun, and anyone is invited - his opponents as well.
The Mayor gave me some of his election literature, which showed him and his slogan " Man of deeds not words" and on the back seven concrete policies ( not aspirations or waffle)
Afterwards I was invited back to his house for a coffee, and I was saying that I was impressed with his policies.
His wife disappeared for a moment and came back with two other flyers.
The first was from 8 years ago when he first stood for mayor. The flyer showed a younger mayor, but the same slogan. On the back were seven concrete policies ( things like central heating for the school, not targets which can be manipulated)
The second was from four years ago. Same thing, but on the back were 7 new policies, and the list of the previous 7. Beside each was one word. "Delivered".
I asked him why he didn't have the delivered message on this year's flyer.
" Obvious" he said." Everyone knows now what I say I do. I don't need to make the point any more. So the people know they will get the new sewage system I have been working on for 5 years within the next 4."
God I wish we could have politicians like that.
42 revisited
I'm in Romania and have been exceptionally busy the last few days, so have had little or no time to keep up with the news. After all, its wind-down time in the UK, summers here...
And then David Davis blows everything out of the water.
In a way, my previous post referred to the mood of the country being anti-spin and anti-waffle. We want detail, we want clarity and we want principle.
DD couldn't have qualified any better if he had tried. It's an extraordinary act, one which, should DC stumble, will win him the leadership. I cannot see the campaign being anything other than a huge success, but then, you never know.
What it really has done has made the pundits in the papers look stupid - already.
DD was doing something insane, the Tories were going to be ripped apart etc etc - except " the People" don't seem to see it like that.
They appear to be saying - it's time we had principle again. And if this is what we can expect from the Tories then we will be with them.
After the wonderful Irish "No" vote, Gordon Brown's refusal of a referendum is not only visible for what it is ( he knows it would be lost) but also as yet another mendacious political trick, one which will rebound on Labour when it next issues a manifesto.
DD is asking for no more than GBP100 per person to donate on line. I personally will be donating. I hope everyone who would like to see the end of spin and believes in principle will do the same.
And then David Davis blows everything out of the water.
In a way, my previous post referred to the mood of the country being anti-spin and anti-waffle. We want detail, we want clarity and we want principle.
DD couldn't have qualified any better if he had tried. It's an extraordinary act, one which, should DC stumble, will win him the leadership. I cannot see the campaign being anything other than a huge success, but then, you never know.
What it really has done has made the pundits in the papers look stupid - already.
DD was doing something insane, the Tories were going to be ripped apart etc etc - except " the People" don't seem to see it like that.
They appear to be saying - it's time we had principle again. And if this is what we can expect from the Tories then we will be with them.
After the wonderful Irish "No" vote, Gordon Brown's refusal of a referendum is not only visible for what it is ( he knows it would be lost) but also as yet another mendacious political trick, one which will rebound on Labour when it next issues a manifesto.
DD is asking for no more than GBP100 per person to donate on line. I personally will be donating. I hope everyone who would like to see the end of spin and believes in principle will do the same.
Sunday, June 08, 2008
42
In case you missed it, Andrew Marr this morning asked Jacqui Smith ( she of the Home Secretarial persuasion) " How did you fix on 42 days?"
She waffled on for a bit, but entirely missed the point. As readers of HitchHiker's Guide to the Galaxy will know, 42 is the answer to everything. You just have to figure out what the question is.
But the interesting thing was the the Government spin machine had it that " Jacqui" ( who spells like that?) had done a wonderful job of bringing the Labour rebels to heel.
Only it now appears this isn't true.
Mrs. Thatcher was at her son's party the other evening and was talking about the present mood in the country.
" Oh, yes. I sense the people no longer want spin. Politicians are going to have to get into extreme detail to carry people with them on matters."
She has more understanding even now of " the people" that Gordon Brown has of his chewed finger nails.
She waffled on for a bit, but entirely missed the point. As readers of HitchHiker's Guide to the Galaxy will know, 42 is the answer to everything. You just have to figure out what the question is.
But the interesting thing was the the Government spin machine had it that " Jacqui" ( who spells like that?) had done a wonderful job of bringing the Labour rebels to heel.
Only it now appears this isn't true.
Mrs. Thatcher was at her son's party the other evening and was talking about the present mood in the country.
" Oh, yes. I sense the people no longer want spin. Politicians are going to have to get into extreme detail to carry people with them on matters."
She has more understanding even now of " the people" that Gordon Brown has of his chewed finger nails.
Friday night
Mrs. Lear and I together with two friends went to the new " happening"/ " show" at SWG3 which was fine if a little strange. I fully accept I am the wrong age.
Whilst wandering about and looking at a number of different things, I chanced across some photographs which had been taken inside Glasgow City Chambers. The building itself is magnificent inside, especially the entrance hall and staircase, which had been used as the backdrop for the photos. There were various outlandish females draped around the place , but I was studying the background and the excellent photographic work that had gone into the photographs themselves.
" Ah" said a chap who sidled up to me " Admiring the divine ChengWa I see."
" No, actually I'm admiring the City Halls."
" Ah. You are clearly elegantly aged."
The emphasis was on the "ag-ed"
Whilst wandering about and looking at a number of different things, I chanced across some photographs which had been taken inside Glasgow City Chambers. The building itself is magnificent inside, especially the entrance hall and staircase, which had been used as the backdrop for the photos. There were various outlandish females draped around the place , but I was studying the background and the excellent photographic work that had gone into the photographs themselves.
" Ah" said a chap who sidled up to me " Admiring the divine ChengWa I see."
" No, actually I'm admiring the City Halls."
" Ah. You are clearly elegantly aged."
The emphasis was on the "ag-ed"
Thursday, June 05, 2008
The REAL economy
Just back from Birmingham, where all the hotels are full of people on life awareness courses. Sigh. That's going to keep the Chinese and the Indians at bay.
Anyway, on my way back up, I stopped off at a pub in Cheshire somewhere. More a gastropub with a restaurant, and I was there at about 1:30. I was the only person there.
When I asked the barman why it was so quiet ( I had seen several others shuts round about) he said it had been like this since just after New Year. They were all right as they had quite a good trade at the weekends, but 7 or 8 other pubs in the area had closed. They used to have a weekly lunchtime trade ( not great but enough to pay for itself and contribute a bit towards the bottom line) but that was all gone.
" There's no money around, of course. It used to cost me £70 to fill up my car last November. It's now £92."
There you have it.
Anyway, on my way back up, I stopped off at a pub in Cheshire somewhere. More a gastropub with a restaurant, and I was there at about 1:30. I was the only person there.
When I asked the barman why it was so quiet ( I had seen several others shuts round about) he said it had been like this since just after New Year. They were all right as they had quite a good trade at the weekends, but 7 or 8 other pubs in the area had closed. They used to have a weekly lunchtime trade ( not great but enough to pay for itself and contribute a bit towards the bottom line) but that was all gone.
" There's no money around, of course. It used to cost me £70 to fill up my car last November. It's now £92."
There you have it.
Tuesday, June 03, 2008
Banking
I was talking to a private banking team today.
The senior man said " I'm sorry can I pass you on to my number 2 - I've got lots of my accounts overdrawn today and I need to start phoning round."
Just bear in mind to get this private banker you have to be earning at least £100,000 pa or have assets ( not including your house) well in excess of £500,000. So lots of " rich" people are already in trouble on the third day of the month.
The number two - who sounded very cheerful - seemed to be speaking with exclamation marks at the end of each sentence " Hello! How nice to speak to you!...YES! I'll do that right away!!" I remarked that she seemed very cheerful, she laughed." Ha ha! It's more like hysteria!"
So you have been warned.
The senior man said " I'm sorry can I pass you on to my number 2 - I've got lots of my accounts overdrawn today and I need to start phoning round."
Just bear in mind to get this private banker you have to be earning at least £100,000 pa or have assets ( not including your house) well in excess of £500,000. So lots of " rich" people are already in trouble on the third day of the month.
The number two - who sounded very cheerful - seemed to be speaking with exclamation marks at the end of each sentence " Hello! How nice to speak to you!...YES! I'll do that right away!!" I remarked that she seemed very cheerful, she laughed." Ha ha! It's more like hysteria!"
So you have been warned.
Monday, June 02, 2008
Leadership & Gordon Brown
Todays report that GB will NOT be facing his critics regarding the 42 day detention debacle only underlines his lack of leadership ( and, coincidentally, anything smacking of courage)
I was reading an article in The Marketer about leadership.
DOs:
Be approachable. Be seen as part of a team.
Allow for autonomy. Set objectives, let your people get on with achieving them.
Constantly develop yourself, and make sure you are responsible for developing other leaders.
Use coaching so people take responsibility for their own problems, freeing your time to lead.
Set the tone. Attitudes are infectious.
Stimulate debate and new ideas.
I think we can all agree he fails miserably on every one of these points. I particularly agree with "Set the tone". Brown's is uniformly grim.
DON'TS
Don't dither. The best leaders are decisive.
Don't forget to be adaptable. New challenges may mean different thinking.
Don't forget you can delegate responsibility, but not overall accountability.
Don't be afraid to admit you don't like leading.Promoting bad leaders can be disastrous for business.
And for political parties too.
I was reading an article in The Marketer about leadership.
DOs:
Be approachable. Be seen as part of a team.
Allow for autonomy. Set objectives, let your people get on with achieving them.
Constantly develop yourself, and make sure you are responsible for developing other leaders.
Use coaching so people take responsibility for their own problems, freeing your time to lead.
Set the tone. Attitudes are infectious.
Stimulate debate and new ideas.
I think we can all agree he fails miserably on every one of these points. I particularly agree with "Set the tone". Brown's is uniformly grim.
DON'TS
Don't dither. The best leaders are decisive.
Don't forget to be adaptable. New challenges may mean different thinking.
Don't forget you can delegate responsibility, but not overall accountability.
Don't be afraid to admit you don't like leading.Promoting bad leaders can be disastrous for business.
And for political parties too.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)