Monthly Archives: July 2006

All quiet on the western front.

Ok, so it’s been all quiet on the western front; I know I’m bad, but life’s hectic. I’m in the middle of the nightmare move from hell, moving house is something we’ve got down to an artform, but when you’ve got a million fuckwits trying to throw a spanner in the works it takes a lot of time and patience to ensure that the whole moving process continues on time and on budget. Our new flat in Notting Hill will be coming together soon, but at the moment we’re no where near so there’s at least another 3 or 4 weeks of fannying around before we’re back to normal.

Elsewhere, work is manic: there’s six projects up in the air, plus half a dozen smaller jobs and my time is stretched reasonably thin – that’s being compounded by all of this house move shit, plus a few other contributing factors, people not listening, people telling us, the professionals, how to do our jobs because they don’t want to listen to brutal advice because they’re so entirely wrapped up in their own affairs.

It’s sad when people don’t listen to advice, whether it’s at work or elsewhere; especially when it’s coming from someone that cares, someone that knows exactly what they’re talking about and someone that has the facts, figures and hardcore research sat in front of them… but as my Mum has always said you can only tell people, you can’t make people, and if they won’t listen then all you can do is be there for them when it all goes to pot, I’ve modified that for my own purposes, and when it comes to when it all goes to pot I tell them that I told them so then give them a bill to sort out the mess… which if they then don’t want I’ll let them sink.

If there’s something I learnt from my last business it’s that you can never get involved with the actual project itself, if you get wrapped up in it you end up doing things that are bad for your own business and you can potentially end up doing one of two things: lose money, or worse lose money and take the blame. You have to stick to your guns at all times, if it’s a bad idea tell them, tell them again, put it in writing and then stand back and let them get on with it… it should never be forgotten that whatever line of business you’re in, you’re in business for you and the integrity and financial stability of your own business should always be put first.

Anyway… that’s enough of that; I’ve written a few things about business recently; all rather more cogent than this… I’m thinking of putting them up in a new section. So stand by…

What a day…

What a day, 30 odd degree’s, power-cuts and some of the most torrential rain I’ve ever seen, I’m too knackered to write much at the moment, and the heat isn’t doing any favours for the brain, so I’ll update this all a bit more cogently sometime cooler/later.

Railways are dangerous – well duh!

I’m sorry if this sounds harsh, but this has annoyed me: Family campaigns for rail safety. What? As if the fences, gates, big signs saying do not trespass on the railway, danger trains & danger high voltage electricity signs, plus all of the thousands of posters, television and radio adverts plus in school education… aren’t enough?!

It’s very simple Railways are *DANGEROUS* – trains are heavy chunks of metal moving at great speed normally powered by electricity that’s either an obvious third (or indeed third and fourth) rail or by overhead cantary wires? – I mean it’s obvious it’s dangerous, so why is it every time some kid is (tragically – and it is tragically) killed do you always get a flood of calls for better safety? It’s very simple… stay off and away from the railway: you wouldn’t hear a call for ‘greater safety’ if a kid got killed by taking a shortcut across 8 lanes of the M25 moving at 70mph as a shortcut, so why is it every time this happens on the railways the families react as if it’s the train companies fault? Do you honestly think they don’t do more because they enjoy picking up pieces of teenager? If people were a taught a little bit more responsibility, they’d perhaps think before acting and not end up in as much trouble?

I’m really on my high horse about this one, I mean they’re calling for all third rail systems to be replaced with overhead wires, perhaps forgetting the billions of pounds and years of work it would take to do this, in this day and age it always seems to be someone elses fault, it couldn’t possibly be because you omitted to tell your child not to take ridiculous shortcuts that take her across a busy railway?! – Take responsibility for crying out loud, yes it’s tragic: but don’t expect the world to change around you.

This is so symptomatic of the problem that is crippling the UK at the moment, no one understands the value of responsibility, it’s all great fun till somebody loses a bollock and then the world cries blue murder, and what’s annoying is we’ve seen it all in the past couple of weeks, the war cry of ‘we didn’t know’ seems to be a cover-all that indemifies practically everyone from taking responsibility for things that they either should have known about, or at least should have thought about.

Oh joy.

Deep JoyIt’s 30°C and the tube radio’s have all gone to shit; it would only cost a tiny fraction of the money London subsidises the rest of the UK with to put this right, but instead we continue to subsidise buses for miserable snotbags going to school and old ladies in Fife who use buses which are of no use to any other member of society instead of sorting the transport system that moves the people that generate the money that this country runs on.


It’s been a good week, new business won, old business completed, hair cut, house beginning to look packed; and I’m looking forward to the weekend, which hopefully should be reasonably peaceful without too much to worry about or fret over. Whether it’ll turn out that way or not is yet to be seen, but peaceful pottering is what’s planned. I’m hoping to sort through a lot of the house crap, chuck away a few bin liners full of stuff that we’ve held onto for no good reason (as you do), and finally rid ourselves of half a tonne of unnecessary paperwork.

It was with a certain sense of ‘being released’ that last week I threw away the very last vestiges of the previous business: it was strange going through paperwork for H-D, looking at old invoices we’d sent out, invoices we’d received, all the detritus of a business, and last week it all went in the bin, all of it… the lot: finally released, everythings paid, sorted, closed, gone. It was weird for years I’ve been concentrating on the other business but still carrying around all the crap from the last one, but that crap is now all gone.

Bloody ginger gits

I can’t believe this article; apparently the police are going to investigate the BBC for leaving a car under secret filming in Scotland filled with England flags because the car was smashed, wouldn’t it make more sense to go after the little ginger gits that did the damage?

7th July – One year on

It doesn’t seem like a year since I decided ‘nah’ I can’t be bothered to go into central london today, since I was woken by a bulletin on Radio 4 saying there’d be an ‘explosion’ on the tube, possibly caused by a power failure, and one year on from watching in horror as the events of the 7th unfolded in almost pornographic detail on Sky News.

I don’t think anythings changed since now and then to be honest; initially we obviously all started to look at people differently, started to think that every bag, every person with a beard and a rucksack might be a threat, but that soon passed with the realisation that if something like that were to happen the chances of being directly involved (rather than simply inconvenienced by) were infinitesimally low; and in many ways that’s a good thing, if we all lived our daily lives in fear we’d be letting ‘them’ win, but we’re not… but on the flip-side of that it’s irritating nothing’s changed: no-one seems to want to take responsibility for what’s happened, and no-one seems to dare utter the words that it’s not until things change from the current status quo that things will be able to change.

I think everyone’s still a little shell shocked, I’ve talked to a lot of people about the events of this day last year, and people still seem to be coming to terms with the facts that it’s happened here in London: we’ve put up with Terrorism before, but there is a distinct difference between someone planting a bomb for political reasons, and someone with fundamentalist religious views strapping themselves to a bomb and taking themselves off this mortal coil with a load of other entirely innocent souls… we will all come to terms with the events of this time last year eventually but I believe the sense of being violated will stay with us for some time.

What a day!

What a day, with a 6am start we had a breakfast meeting with a client kick started by two double shots of espresso in StarBucks, quite why anyone buys coffee from StarBucks unless they absolutely have to is beyond me, all of their coffee is so bitter, it lacks any of the depth of say Illy; anyhoo, meeting over with we headed into Notting Hill to trawl the estate agents, found half of them including Faron Sutaria hadn’t bothered to follow up on simple instructions, and those who we hadn’t already looked with were all short/under-staffed; needing to make a decision we took another look at a place we’d seen earlier in the week and decided to take it then and their, so paperwork done we signed off on the new flat: just need to pay up the deposit before the moving date and then we’ll be the proud new inhabitants of a rather nice 2nd floor flat (2nd if you’re using the ground/first/second floor model) right on Notting Hill Gate, couldn’t be happier to be honest.

With it being 30°C we decided against using the tube or the buses as both are as bad as each other in high-summer; so we walked from Notting Hill to Soho, forgetting entirely that EuroPride was on we stumbled in Old Compton Street to find it awash with poofs of all shapes and sizes, although we quickly figured that most of the twinky types had buggered off to hyde park leaving the rather more eye-candy-licious bears to play in Soho: other than a bitch fight between two trannies (it had to be seen to be believed), it all passed off rather well, we sat in our usual bolt-hole watching the world go by, amusing ourselves at the thought of someone seriously believing that the world could be changed simply by donning blue hotpants. I was amazed quite frankly at the drama some of the stewards made each time an ambulance was required; for some reason there didn’t seem to be a straight ambulance route to Soho Square so they brought three up Frith Street (which was a. packed, and b. filled with Bar Italia’s tables), so every time they needed to bring an ambulance down, two of the campest tits you can imagine ran up and down the street with a siren. Not what you might call restrained crowd control.

After the best part of thirty quid’s worth of food and coffee we decided that we’d had enough and started to wander back to Notting Hill, taking the 94 home; it was once again reinforced why the Routemaster should never have been scrapped when a militant lesbian decided she was going to spend ten minutes shouting at the driver who wouldn’t (or more to the point couldn’t) take her money when she should have bought a ticket before boarding the bus, by the third yelp of “take my fucking money” i was ready to go downstairs and kick her off the bus myself, finally the driver gave in let her ride for free and let the rest of us get on with our journey.

Getting off the bus we were just about to cross the road when I stepped off the pavement, fell into a 6 inch pot hole and ended up flat on my face sprawled between two parked cars f’ing and blinding in agony, I’ve ended up twisting my ankle badly (it’s swelled up to twice it’s normal size) I’ve walloped my other knee leaving a huge bruise and a graze, I’ve hurt both wrists trying to stop myself from falling and I clunked my elbow on a cars bumper, all in all I’m not a happy chappy, quite why the pothole wasn’t fixed I don’t know, as it’s directly outside the tube station and it’s obscured by the high kerb not to mention being in a place people regularly use to cross the road. An ignominious end to what wasn’t actually all too bad a day; I’m pissed off though as with only a month to go before moving house I’m going to spend the best part of next week hobbling around like an invalid… bugger.