Falling Over

This week I've mostly been falling over or off things. Sometimes I’ve been walking into things. I obviously haven’t been doing this on purpose and I think it must just be one of those easily explainable things, a sort of; I haven’t fallen over much since I was a kid and, well that was quite a long time ago so I shouldn’t worry about it as I'm probably just due a few; type of thing.

I fell of my bike first, that was on Thursday. It happened as I crossed over the canal bridge at Picket's Lock that morning on the way to work. I had forgotten that I had changed my bike types for smoother faster ones and as a consequence I would have less grip on the rough stuff but be faster on the road. I remembered I'd changed them suddenly as the bike shot away from me on shale and I was reminded again of a school physics lesson on gravity, mass, friction and enforced deceleration or some such that I hadn’t listened very hard to.

I was alright, sort of. The back wheel on my bike was a bit bent and the path scratches on my shoulder and back are healing nicely but overall there was no real harm done.

Then on Friday I walked awkwardly into the back of a tall chair. Whilst this doesn’t sound like much the chair was jammed against a table so didn’t give way. It just scratched my side quite painfully.

And today I fell over whilst being chased by a wasp in my garden. It was a similar event as the cycling accident in that the sandals I was wearing at the time (Yes I know! But it is my garden and I was alone) don't have much grip at high speed whilst trying to turn sharply.

Ah well, another grazed knee.

Wasps

Yes, the wasps have not gone away. They are just pissed off. Cutting the lawn today or even just trying to sit out and read the paper was not as serene as it usually is. I'm pissed off with them to, and whilst their puny and aggressive little brains might think they have the better of me they are wrong. And they are shortly dead. I have a phone, and fingers to dial numbers on it with. The wasp man will come back and finish the job. Oh yes he will...

Ibiza Madness

It was The Duke who suggested, planned and manned the '24 hours in Ibiza Trip' So I should have realised it might be a long night. Some regular readers may recall that this lad and myself have had some good nights out before and this was obviously to be no different, just slightly far away. And I had never been before, so it seemed important.

The four of us, The Duke, Mike, Lu and Me arrived at Ibiza airport on Saturday at about 10 AM. The sun was shining and it was warm :) I had almost forgotten what proper sunshine felt like.

We got in to a cab and Mike turned to the driver, smiled and said two words "Bora Bora" The driver (late thirties, all Spanish stubble and chest hair) threw his head back, laughed out loud, smiled at us  and turned some funky music on.  An unusual reaction from a cabbie I thought but much better than a scowl.

By 10.30 we were on the beach right in front of the apparently infamous Bora Bora bar. The bar has some big speakers hanging around and these were pulsing Balearic beat gently and not to loudly across the beach. We had drinks in hand and all was nice.

As it was so early it was quiet but as the day wore on more and more people arrived. The music kept picking up in time with the arrivals and by early afternoon it was busy and everybody was swaying, laughing chatting and foot tapping.

Very different to Hyde Park on a Summer Saturday afternoon I mused. I was foot tapping to,  and smiling. The crowd on the beach seemed to be mostly Spanish, I guess its their holiday destination too?

4.30PM, As if a switch was thrown it suddenly seemed that everybody was either swaying or up on their feet dancing, I looked toward the bar and it was packed with people dancing, some on the tables. The music was fantastic and there were arms in the air. I suppose you have your idyllic quiet beaches around the world where you can be fed hand-reared lobster ice cream and hardly see another sole for a week and that’s certainly one kind of trip. This beach though was amazing and the atmosphere was something else.

Pacha

We left the beach around 7.30 as Lu and Mike had managed to find us a hotel shower room for a small fee for an hour. We changed for the evening and headed to the restaurant at the super club Pacha for a 10.30 table.

I had found out before the trip that if you ate at the Pacha restaurant and spent over 40 Euros a head you didn't have to pay to get in. Being as entrance was going to be 40 or 50 Euros anyway this seemed like a free meal. It was excellent food, wine, ambiance and service.

The restaurant is lovely, very hacienda in style. We were the first people there other than one table where a man sat alone, immaculate in a fine tailored blue linen suit. He was in his 50's or older and had an impeccably trimmed white beard. The staff kept smiling and various people came and spoke briefly to him. He had the air of a very wealthy man and this was his domain. He was possibly one of the owning family? With his age he may even have been a founder. Pacha opened, though was tiny then, on the same site 31 years ago. It would fit? By the time we left the restaurant it was packed with European fashion conscious and monied types. It was a bit over the top. This was obviously one of the places to be on a Saturday night.

The club was extraordinary. We were early in, so it was quiet, but people kept arriving and arriving. We spent allot of time on the upstairs terrace just swaying, sitting and people watching. We had various dancing forays and lots of conversations around the stupendous drink prices. 8 Eros for a glass of water, 15 Euros for a voka tonic etc. It didn’t really matter as there cant really be anywhere quite like this place anywhere else can there. It reminded me of the restaurant at the end of the universe from Douglas Adams hitch hikers guide to the galaxy.

There must have been 20 bars in the club, numerous rooms, the huge terraces the massive sunken dance floor, the dancers and the music simply got better and better. In truth it really got to busy to dance and the main areas were rammed. There must have been thousands of people there. It doesn't mean much to me but The Duke was quite excited that he had been standing right next to a chap called Mike Manumission.

We were all feeling the pace a bit by now as we had been awake for around 24 hours straight. I had been mixing my potions a bit and I have to admit it was all a bit to much and I took a funny turn. All was ok though,  I had simply been out-partied.

Around 5 we left the club past some people still queuing to come in!. (It finishes at 8AM) and took a cab back to the beach where we slept on the sand until we were woken by the dawn and small knots of clubbers dancing in the half light to car stereos playing that same, never ending Ibiza beat We walked up to the super club Space to get a cab to the airport. Space was just opening to start its "We love Space" Sunday through to Monday 22 hour dance fest. There were queus to get in... people were arriving after Saturday night to carry on. They had more stamina than us ;)

We were back at my house for much needed BLT's by lunchtime on Sunday. 

We were absolute wreckage. I can't wait to go back! It may be in September....

In other news the man came and took the wasps away today. 
  

Joined Up Government

I went to Westminster today to meet some government mandarins. The great, the good and the irrelevant had been asked to come in for an afternoon of discussion about the perils of email spam.  
 
The nice chap who introduced the discussions was from our Department of Trade and Industry and his business card said he was their 'Director of Broadband' I pointed out that sounded like it might be a narrow subject on its own? He agreed and didn't notice the irony. Instead he talked about how he had managed to expand his remit to embrace other Interweb and electrickery problems. Well, those are my words not his.  
 
I don't have much hope that he will get that far as I think to succeed and push things through you need a strong vision and some determination. When he addressed us all for the introductions he opened with an apology that he wouldn’t be able to stay for the evening reception, as "his wife wouldn’t let him".  He then went on to use his memory of school dinners to explain why he was possibly so angry about spam. At the end he gave the floor to a nice young lady who was nervously called Heather and would be chairing us. He closed as strongly as he began by saying he had to go to find out what he was supposed to do next from his PA as she didn't let him keep his own schedule in case he lost it.  
 
These attempts at humorous endearment didn't really raise a chuckle from the assembled throng as we could tell from the weak smile that sadly, they were true.  
 
However we soldiered on throughout the afternoon and after much heated debate between consumer and business bodies, international law enforcement agencies, ISP's and Spam experts (i.e. me / my company - see ArmourPlate) We really nailed the problem for future generations.
 
We all agreed the following..  
 
1. Spam is a problem and spammers are bad people who make lots of easy money whilst we don’t necessarily.  
 
2. Someone or everyone should try and do something about it.  
 
3. Your basic computer user doesn’t know anything.
and
4. None of us including the DTI could decide how the government is going to get good press out of it.
 
Aren’t you proud?  
 
At the end of all this we were given canapés and wine whilst an actual Minister in the thin, crow like, yet intense form of Steven Timms (Rt Hon Minister for Communications) gave a small speech saying how pleased he was that the problem was being tackled in an organised fashion. He then introduced the Managing Director (UK) of Microsoft who told us how spam was their number one priority and that he wanted to work with us all. I don’t think anyone believed him as his portly fingers, fresh from many a palm greasing lunch kept trying to stop themselves crossing.  
 
Microsoft had paid for the nibbles.  
 
It was interesting in a way though, and to see the wheels of government in slow operation was as always an eye-opener. In short, expect nothing much soon.  
 

Saturday Night Ibiza Madness

 
 
I haven’t been sleeping very well lately,  and I am a bit under the weather. It’s been a stressful time. I hope however that I have restored myself by the weekend as my good friend The Duke has organised a weekend trip of serious financial and mental irresponsibility.  
 
Flying out on Saturday morning early we shall be on the beach in Ibiza by lunchtime, after that it will no doubt get blurry as we are all of to Pacha.  We shall leave Pacha on Sunday morning and fly straight back to Blighty.   I shall obviously be here on Sunday afternoon. We shall see whether I manage to write anything other than a plea to my bank manager before Monday.  
 

Wasps

 
 
Wasps have their place I’m sure. Just not around me. I have a nest of wasps in the garden in one of the compost bins. I don't like this. On Monday a man is coming from the council to make them go away. He's charging me £37.  I wonder how they reached that figure? Is it per wasp averaged by how many wasps in a nest over a period of years or what?
 
I don't know. Do you? 
 
TG
 

Cricket at Lords

On Thursday I went to see some cricket at Lords Cricket Ground, the headquarters of the game. I had never been to watch a cricket match before even though I do enjoy listening to it on the radio (test match special, BBC Radio 4 of course)

It was a new type of game, called 20 / 20 cricket; in short each side has to score as many runs as possible in just 20 overs. For those of you aren’t aware an over is a series of 6 balls bowled. For those of you who are even less aware than that I am not going to use this opportunity to explain what cricket is, or its rules, now even its subtleties. 20 overs though is not very many and the whole match including the half hour interval for the sides to change over took from 5.30 to 8.30 in the evening. Its a taster game if you like to attract impatient types and new viewers as a 'proper' cricket match can last up to 5 days and often obscurely neither side will actually win.

This is possibly why it has never really caught on in America.

The other thing about this type of cricket is that the cricketers don't even bother to dress properly in white flannels. Instead Surrey wore dark blue 'pyjama stile sports kits whilst the other side (Middlesex) wore black.. or a darker blue. I'm not quite sure if I have that the right way round but you get the idea. Sadly the umpires didn’t wear shirts, blazers and ties either but some red polo shirt and 'slacks' ensemble that made them look all the world like strangely middle aged holiday reps. Or possibly golfers. Also the ball is white rather than deep lustrous cherry red. All a bit rum really.

Lords in an excellent sports ground though and apparently has been there since Roman times (I exaggerate of course). Though I'm not sure it was cricket they played then? The sun was shining (for a change) and I enjoyed the game. It was a one sided affair and Middlesex might have achieved just as much if they hadn't turned up but the atmosphere was enjoyable, the ground was full to capacity and I recommend going to one of these things if you get the chance. Oh, take your own drinks as the bar service was awful. I missed 10 of those 6 ball overs just waiting at the bar...

The Weekend

As I write it’s Saturday evening. I’m experiment with being quiet, thinking and deciding what direction to go in lots of ways. If I figure anything out I shall let you know. In the meantime I may open a bottle of wine, or I may not. I will however go for a decent cycle ride through the forest tomorrow and I shall potter in the garden.

I rarely figure much out during these brief excursions into the introspective but I shall persevere nonetheless. If anything happens tomorrow I may well post it here.

Flat

I'm flat at the moment. Lots of things are transpiring and quite frankly I'd rather they weren't.

I'm sure its a blip though. Life after all isn't that bad.

At the risk of being repetitive I'm sure some sunshine would help.

A full and more cheering post tomorrow or Friday I would think.

I had an idea today...

-TG

Orwellian Society

Hmmm. Just watched the news and things aren't right. Then again they haven't been right ever really. What I mean is they are becoming less right.

All over the news today is the fact that a Muslim cleric chap should be kept out for the county because his views insight religious hatred. Well I've read as much as I can and it all seems to come down to the fact that he has said that he understands why the Palestinians have resorted to suicide bombers and whilst he doesn't condone it he doesn't quite condemn it either.

I seem to remember the wife of our Prime Minister, Cherie Blair said something similar last year. No one seems to be having a go at her. This seems to me a case of inciting religious hatred in reverse. Should Mr Blunket and crew be charged with this new crime that he is trying to create?.

Make your own mind up and look at the facts rather than the froth by reading here.

Who's Marbles?

Another news story I saw today concerned the removal from Iraq under cover of the tightest security of tons of nuclear material including 1.7 tons of "enriched uranium". The article reads like the USA have saved us all from terrorists who might have used this if they had got their hands on it to create a so called 'dirty bomb'

The funny thing is that I did a bit of digging whilst I was eating my lunch and discovered that enriched uranium and many of the their radioactive bits and pieces the Americans have hoovered up is really really valuable. In fact its so expensive the Americans can't make as much as they need for their military and other (some good) applications.

So. Who owns it? That's my question. It seems to me that on the one hand the UN could have been given it to look after and should they conclude Iraq doesn't need it anymore they could sell it and give the money to Iraq to help with the problems. Or should it just disappear into the US for free.

Once upon a time there was a boy who liked to play marbles. He was a very bad boy so the teacher stamped on his hands, breaking them and he couldn't play marbles anymore. So the teacher collected all the marbles and instead of giving them to the boys parents so they could help buy bandages. He wandered off and sold them.

I call that theft?

I suppose though in a funny sort of way that given the Americans (in the main) make their tank and other rounds out of depleted uranium because its so dense that it blows through most defending armour, and given that they used thousands of such rounds so poisoning Iraqi land and children for generations to come, they are in fact giving it back with the other hand. I bet they collect it all again much later too. And this time probably sell it back. Thats all right then?

A rant? Or a comment?

I could do this every day. But I won't. Just occasionally I become vexed. I also suppose I'm now on certain hit lists for illustrating something.

I had better do it now. If this carries on our lifetime will see a law against it. Thought police. Orwellian after all?

The weather doesn't help.

Though,, it was nice yesterday and I cycled into work. I will find the flamingo's again. For now you have to make do with the Swans.


What noise do Swans make? 

The Light Bar

Friday night was supposed to be a quiet evening. Civilized even. Well it almost stayed that way. Regular readers will have noticed that excess fuelled evenings have become something of a rarity with me lately. Not last Friday though...

The night began quietly enough with a drink or two at Two Floors with Slinx and a couple of friends and then on to that old haunt The Rex for a viewing of Shrek 2 in their excellent cinema. We enjoyed the film. A few more drinks on the premises and the Rex was getting busy and we were getting lively. At this point going on to the Light Bar was mentioned.

I had not been here before. Though I shall visit again.

The bar is in the reception of The St Martins Lane Hotel. The reception area is all white and straight ahead of the main doors the bar sits enclosed in its own long, wide rectangular room. Once through the doors, past the man that only lets members, stars and hotel guests in you are seated by a very nice lady who finds you a table. The bar itself is a little like a very wide railway carriage but with better lighting, comfortable seating and a lack of windows. In fact it doesn't have any at all. The far end of this long room has a large display cabinet full of cut glass glasses. It reminded me of a Selfridges shelving display. No matter. The whole thing is apparently designed by Phillipe Stark. You don't crowd at the bar as their is only table service.

Wow. What a drinks menu! Its all about cocktails and boy, these cocktails are worth waiting for. Slinx went for a Raspberry Martini which looked about as raspberry as it could be. It tasted divine to. I went for a new twist on an old theme and tried a Mexican Mule.

Tequila
Creme de Cassis
Limes
Ginger Beer
... 3 blueberries on top.

I have just realised (as I write this) that I have all of these ingredients here at home. It is only that I am drinking a nice Torres red wine that is stopping me working out the measurements and attempting a recreation. I will though so expect this to be a cocktail of the month for July.

Where was I? Oh yes. It tasted fantastic. Or at least it did to me. Considering that by this point I had drunk white wine, gin and vodka liberally through the evening it seemed only right to switch spirits.

The crowd in this bar is rich and shows it off. Expect the Beckhams or the Minogues, visiting American film brats and London Bling. Hats teemed with perfect tans and perfect teeth. The music was great and people were up on their feet dancing. The people we were with said it was very quiet that night. It was busy enough for me as the space is wonderful to observe. It is, in my humble opinion the best bar in the very up market category I have been in. You might think that given it has no windows it may feel a little oppressive. But it works just so.

If you wish to go, phone the bar in advance. If you don't sound too ugly and ask nicely you may be placed on the guestlist. Note; I don't say "put" on the guest list. No people "put" you on the list for a taxi queue or a decent new car. Here I feel your name is carefully placed. Neatly.

We had three drinks each. I 'think' I finished up on Mojitos. I 'think' they were the best I have ever had.

Its all a mite blurry after that and it was too much for Slinx, who whilst sometimes showing the determination of the late Oliver Reed, thankfully has a rather smaller and more beautifully formed physique.

We woke up in our clothes.

Saturday was very quiet indeed.

If you only get to go to one expensive bar ever. Go here on a Friday night after midnight. If you can get in of course. 5 Stars.

Tour De France

Some of you may have noticed that the Tour De France has started again. And I would guess, more of you have not.

However, it has.

In the spirit of this, or more probably an early mid life crisis, last week I cycled to work. So what I hear you cry, isn't he in London, doesn't he work in London. How hard can that be? Well its not quite like that as I actually live just North East of London in Essex and work is right slap bang in the middle of the teemimg London Town. It is, in fact 23 miles each way.

It was hard work on the way back I can tell you as its mostly up hill. I travel in along The River Lea Towpath for over 10 miles of the journey. It is beautiful. I saw Swans and Herons and a Kinfisher and Sheep and an Eagle and even Flamingoes around the river. Oh and some passed out drunks neear Tottenham. I am doing it again tommorow. This time though I shall take my camera and prove it. Especially about the Flamingoes...

TG