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BACK TO WORK
Thank God that's over - am I the only one for whom January felt like a month with no end? It seems like an interminable period of time has passed since we entered 2005, yet January just lingered and lingered. Still, it was one of the mildest on record, so not all bad - and February generaly flies past so it'll be Spring before we know it. Had a quiet weekend just past - to friends Nick and Eva's for dinner on Saturday night, the barest wisp of a hangover on Sunday morning and the rest of that day spent at Vision Express in Brent Cross where P learned that she needed glasses for the first time. After what felt like several hours of looking, she selected a pair of rimless frames that really accentuate and flatter her features and we came away with them there and then. Full credit to Alena, the thirty-something, stylish, beautiful, blonde-haired Slovakian assistant who really connected with us and made what could have been a really punishing exercise in shopping a rather less painful experience. As I've lacked motivation and work on the professional front so far this year, so too has my attitude to blogging suffered the same fate. Nothing new there though - looking back at my archives for January and February last year shows a dearth of entries over that period too. Not that I've been entirely idle - my office at the moment resembles a computer repair shop with several friend's machines in various states of undress littered around. I've never undertaken any recognised training in computers but having grown up with them since the early eighties I suppose they hold few surprises for me. I learned programming in Basic at school on a Commodore Pet (anyone remember those?!), progressed through DOS, grappled with games when a knowledge of IRQ settings was a must and took my first steps on to the web when Mosaic was the browser of choice. Consequently, I seem to have become a default help desk for friends and family less familiar with what happens when a PC doesn't boot up or crashes or generally behaves in a stroppy manner. Hence I've just rebuilt my father-in-law's machine after its hard drive failed and I'm awaiting the arrival of my parents' server and a freind's laptop for repair. Maybe if they knew that I accidentally deleted 100Gb of data from my own server whilst home building a new machine last year, they'd be a little more reticent! I've had a voracious appetite for books over the past few weeks working my way through over 20 new non-fiction titles since the beginning of December. However, I finally gave in and bought a copy of Dan Brown's 'The Da Vinci Code' last week wondering what all the fuss was about. I'm sad to say that I couldn't put it down and was utterly engrossed in it from beginning to end. I love the way the fictional narrative is woven around so much factual accuracy about such a fascinating subject. As somebody born into and long-divorced from the Catholic Church, the novel accorded with much of my own thinking on theology and the concept of the Sangréal.
With the new month comes an upturn in my industriousness and some major upheaval on the home front. Tomorrow brings my first major assignment of 2005 along with an early start, a long drive and a flight to nowhere with the Military, although I should be home in my own bed tomorrow night. Next Tuesday, my wife P flies off to Cape Town for ten days to join a friend on holiday leaving me Home Alone to hold the fort. Well, I fly off and leave her often enough, it seems only fair that I get a taste of my own medicine! Still, no sooner is she back and I'm off to the other side of the world with work and it looks like it'll be mid April before things settle down again. With an end to winter in sight and some interesting assignments on the horizon, hopfully things will start to pick up now and I can back get into something approximating a routine where my blog is concerned. |
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1.2.05 12:21 |
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THE GRAPES OF WRATH
Have the French gone mad? In the country whose two greatest contributions to the sum of human happiness are wine and fornication, comely winemaker Catherine Gachet, of tthe improbably named Chateau Bastard (you couldn't make it up) has been forced to reshoot an advertising photograph in which she poses with a glass of wine on the grounds that she looks "too sexy". As reported in yesterday's Daily Telegraph, both of the photographs show Catherine Gachet about to sip a glass of the wine she produces in south-western France - but she looks more like a Hollywood starlet than a winemaker. As far as the law in France is concerned though - the centre of a battle between the country's ailing wine industry and health pressure groups - only one of the images is legal.
A court agreed with the health campaigners that the first (shown below, left) with the glass of wine far too close to Mrs Gachet's lips, was "too sexy" to meet the strict requirements of the so-called Evin Law which rules how alcoholic drinks can be promoted. For the second shoot (right), her sultry, "come hither" expression became a wholesome grin and Mrs Gachet held the glass well away from her face. Crucially, the caption identifying her as a wine grower was featured much more prominently.
"The whole thing is totally absurd," said Mrs Gachet, 37, a dentist's wife and mother of two who turns out up to 15,000 bottles of Clos Dady - mostly Sauternes, a sweet wine normally served with foie gras or desserts - each year. "Anyone who knows me would tell you that the first image was more like me than the one that was allowed, which had to be retouched by computer."
The saga of the "before and after" pictures began when Mrs Gachet was chosen as one of the faces of Bordeaux wine for a national poster and newspaper advertising campaign. In fact, the Evin Law, dating back to 1991 and named after a former Socialist minister, Claude Evin, only permits her to be the face of Bordeaux because she genuinely works in the industry.
Speaking from her vineyard, Chateau Bastard at Barsac, south-east of Bordeaux, Mrs Gachet said: "The fuss over which photograph was acceptable and which was not was ridiculous, like so much of what goes on in France. We are moving more and more towards legislating for anything but the good life."
She admitted that with 45,000 alcohol-related deaths a year, France had a serious drink problem. "But those who are affected are much more likely to be abusing strong drinks such as whisky or pastis than taking fine wines with good food as part of a perfectly healthy lifestyle.''
The French parliament has now approved a slight relaxation of the rules on advertising text, which previously limited winemakers to drab technical information. A proposed amendment also allows the copy to mention the wine's character and taste. Mrs Gachet's toned down image may conform. But any advertisement showing a model remains banned.
What nonsense. In the first place, the ruling ignores the established historical relationship between sex and wine. In the second, it introduces a ludicrous element of subjectivity into advertising standards. What's sexy? Should the bare feet of paysan grape-treaders be banned from wine ads lest they lure foot-fetishists into alcoholism? Keep at it France - another nail in the coffin that is Paris' bid for the 2012 Olympics. Strike one for London! |
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4.2.05 11:37 |
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THE BED'S TOO BIG WITHOUT YOU...
I love airports; always have. As a kid who dreamed of becoming an aviator, they held an unrivalled magnetism for me. After my first long haul flight - to Canada, aged 10 - that was it; I was hooked. And as I've grown older, with work taking me on to the flight decks and across the globe, the allure has never lessened. I love the romance, the dramas that are played out within the confines of the terminals, each traveller an unwitting star. The tears, the farewells, the reunions of loved ones, sadness tinged with excitement as couples, families are temporarily divided by continents. Like theatres, each terminal, each airport has its own character, created largely by the microsm of all human society contained within. I've lost count of the times I've flown out of Heathrow's Terminal Four over the past few years and the parting, whilst it's never got any easier, has for me, been manageable at least. My wife P has worked doggedly, holding the fort and never complaining whilst I've flown off to sunny climes, war zones, interesting places - always under the guise of work. And whilst I've been sad to go, the sadness has always been muted by the prospect of what lies ahead; my mind's racing and my focus is shifting to the work in front of me even as the aircraft is lining up for departure.
Last night though, I discovered another side to airport terminals. Not as somewhere exciting and full of the promise of far away lands and adventure - but as a place of sadness and melancholy. It was my wife's turn to fly somewhere exotic, interesting and hot, leaving behind the drudge of cold, overcast London for clear skies, and a temperature in the high 80 south of the equator. Time and circumstance - and an opportunity not to be missed - mean that for the first time since we met, she's flown off on holiday and I'm not with her. So yesterday evening, I got a taste of what it must be like for her whenever I have to go away as I drove her to Terminal 4 to catch BA's flight 0059 to Cape Town. We hugged like I was never going to see her again. And I felt the wrench as I watched her walk through to the departure lounge, standing there even when she'd disappeared from view. I hated it. Driving back home, I felt like half a person; the house feels empty without her here to brighten it up with her presence. Even after all these years, I miss her when I'm away, but I'd never really felt what it must have been like for her. Now, I know. Raw. It's not the end of the world. Ten days and she'll be home again, refreshed, alive and rejuvenated. Nobody deserves it more. Next week our daughter A is off to stay at a friend's for a few days during half term and I'll be home alone, but I have plans. I have things to do. It'll be interesting. But it won't be the same.
When she comes back, we've only got a week together before I have to leave again for a destination 8,000 miles away. And when I get back from there, it's but a short time before I have to go away again. It's not often I feel wistful. But I do now; at this moment in time, a nice, conventional life would be just fine, thanks. |
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9.2.05 12:30 |
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A KISS TO BUILD A DREAM ON
Thanks to everyone who has commented and emailed me regarding my previous post about my wife's going away; your support and kind words are greatly appreciated and make all the difference. Perhaps suprpisingly, the time has flown by since we parted, and it's only a matter of days before we'll be reunited again. That knowledge, occasional contact through texts and phone calls, and a busy agenda have all conspired to make the separation somewhat easier than it might otherwise have been. I've just put the phone down to her and hearing the happiness in her voice has lifted me immensely; She's moved from Cape Town to Camps Bay for the remainder of the trip, a rather nice area behind Table Mountain with white sandy beaches overlooked by the Twelve Apostles mountain range. The weather's fab, she's seen whales, penguins and all manner of wildlife and is generally having a fantastic time of it. Not only that, but when I awoke this morning, it was to a lovely text message that sent me on a treasure hunt for two of the loveliest Valentine's cards I've ever received from her - a touch from across continents. For my part, I've not been entirely idle, either. I went into London last Wednesday to meet with my editor and Melissa, one of my colleagues. It's one of the vagaries of freelancing that I could have a colleague like Mel, someone who writes for the same publication, with whom I'm in regular contact, but whom I'd not previously met. All the more bizarre when you consider that she'll be accompanying me on my forthcoming assignment overseas for ten days. Had a great day; the weather was kind, the sky clear and I got into town early enough to indulge a little. A trip to the Molton Brown emporium at the Royal Exchange for some retail therapy and then I wandered to Pret a Manger for a leisurely lunch. There isn't much that I miss about my City days - well, aside from the telephone number salary, perks, worldwide travel etc! - but Pret, and more specifially, Pret Sushi is something I do miss. So I made a meal of it with a Deluxe Sushi, some hand-cooked salt and vinegar crisps and a bottle of Evian which I ate whilst reading that day's newspaper cover to cover and watching the world go by. That done, I walked across Southwark Bridge, down the steps and past Shakespere's Globe along the Jubilee Walkway, drinking in the London that I love so much.
Had P over on Friday night; a quiet night in with a take-away but we over-indulged with the wine and I spent the whole of Saturday laid up with the most awful hangover I can remember for a long time. So bad in fact, that by 20:00 that night, I still hadn't eaten anything, had thrown up twice and was generally in a pretty bad way. At that point though, it was if a swtich had been thrown in my body and suddenly, I was ravenous; a fabulous Thai take-away sorted me out, although it was washed down with a bottle of Evian - I thought it wise to abstain from any more alcohol for a while. Feel great this morning - surprisingly since I had a night out with my mate Steve last night - but then bright sunshine and birdsong streaming through open windows is always going to make you feel good. There's a lovely pub in a village just outside of the town where Steve and I live that, if we fancy a quiet night out is just the ticket. The village contains a Norman church, has a philandering ex-Cabinet minister of Mrs Thatcher's administration as one of its residents, has one primary school with just four classes - and our pub. We can sit at the bar and chat, the barman intuitively knows when your drinks need topping up and if like Steve, you drink Guiness, he'll let you take a sip whilst a new pint settles in the glass and then top it back up for you. It's a 'proper' pub and I can't remember how we found ourselves strolling in there for the first time but I remember feeling at home the first time I did. It's the little things that make it work for me; it's always quiet in there; there's a fire roaring in the fireplace, a huge range of beers and lagers on tap and a plentiful range of the best snacks a drinker could ask for, including pork scratchings and, my achillies heel, Twiglets! But there's a real litmus test for me where pubs are concerned and it makes all the difference; behind the bar, next to the till, is a bottle of Lea and Perrins, a huge bottle of Tabasco, salt pepper and celery salt. This place knows how to make a Bloody Mary! Oh, and can somebody tell me why I'm getting such a spike in traffic referred here from my page on the Channel 4 Swearing TV Ad? It's been up there since the ad first appeared in March but over the past 48 hours there's been a massive upturn in visitors to this site all coming from a URL that links to that page. Anyone care to point me in the right direction? |
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14.2.05 12:02 |
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LONDON LIGHTS
So I've been a bit lax lately in updating my blog. Sometimes though, life rushes in and instead of writing about it, the lure to live it takes over and...well, that's what I've been doing. P came home from South Africa on the 18th looking a picture of radiant health, which was more than could be said for our daughter A and I after getting up at 04:00 for the rush to Heathrow! Worth it though - she came through looking tanned and fit and it was just lovely to have her back home. We even made the trip home before the M25 got the rush hour blues and turned into London's biggest car park - bonus! Our plan for a night out in London the weekend she got home though was scuppered by WAGN's weekend engineering strategy, which meant no trains into Kings Cross on Saturday or sunday. So we spent the night at our favourite Indian in the town we call home and instead moved our plans to Saturday just gone. I'd planned to meet P after work outside Tower Records at Picadilly but it was only when I got off the tube and went through the doors I noticed it had become the latest addition to Sir Richard Branson's Virgin empire! I need to get out more. Still, she called me just as I walked up the stairs and was there waiting, so together, we wandered along to Waterstone's for a leisurely browse amongst the latest bestsellers. P may be just back home, but I've got two lengthy trips coming up and I'm uncharacteristically between books, so it was time well spent. Came out with Stiff by Mary Roach, 1 out of 10 by Peter Hyman and Digital Fortress and Deception Point, both by Dan Brown. I'm in the midst of rereading the original imprint of Sea Harrier Over the Falklands, by Commander Sharkey Ward, RN, a book I first read on publication but which is required reading for an upcoming assignment. Should keep me occupied for a while, anyway.
From Waterstones, we walked the short distance to Mint Leaf in Suffolk Place. I reviewed the restaurant here when it first opened about eighteen months ago and fell in love with the place and it's capacious and sexy bar. Described as the Indian version of Hakkasan, the bar team is headed up by Mark and Danny from the now-defunct "Che" and features a cocktail list to die for. I had my Martini head on, so we sat and ordered two Plymouth Martinis with a twist which we shortly followed by two more. I don't make a habit of it, but I love indulging with the occasional trip to places like Mint Leaf. I love watching my fellow drinkers, the beautiful women, the relaxed and sociable fellas all with one thought in mind. The lighting is perfect, the ambience just right, the service top notch and the drinks, whilst expensive, work their magic brilliantly. The bar snacks too are just heavenly - I ordered a round of Tandoori King Prawns which just melted in the mouth. From there we hopped in a cab to Melati in Peter St, scene of apres-Blinks dinner last August and an old favourite. Had a devine meal there and suitably sated, made for home. We hadn't though, reckoned on WAGN's determination to make life difficult and the 00:06 from Kings Cross terminated at Alexandra Palace where a bus service was laid on for the rest of the journey. To a collective groan from our fellow passengers, we alighted but our frustration was soon brushed away when we discovered that they were all in a similar state of intoxication, and merry with it. We boarded the bus with about fifteen others, all in good spirits and as soon as the doors shut, the fun started. Led by a thirty-something fella and his older mate, we were all soon laughing out loud at lame jokes and shouted asides which, in cold light of day, would attract nothing but scorn! I got a chance to dust off and use one I've been saving for years when our bus driver noticed he'd parked his vehicle a little too close to the one in front. He got out, but I couldn't resist shouting "Come on, you could get a bus through there!" as encouragement and it was received with far more laughter from my fellow passengers than it deserved. Well, you had to be there. Got a manic day ahead, lots to do ahead of tomorrow. Will write more then. |
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28.2.05 10:50 |
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FAREWELL 20six
This will be my final entry at this blog. I'm sad to be leaving after almost three years of blogging here. Like many early adopters, I felt a keen sense of involvement in 20six, having watched it blossom from a fledgling start up in the summer of 2003. I got involved in its growth, meeting with Azeem and Jo early on in that summer to research a story I'd been commissioned to write on blogging. After that meeting, I was so impressed by the sense of community that was growing up within 20six that I changed the angle of the story, concentrating on what Azeem and Jo were doing, and how 20six was changing the face of blogging in the UK. My editor liked the tone, it went out on the newswire and was picked up and run by a range of magazines and newspapers both here and overseas. Like many of the 'Old Skool' on here, I'd hoped that the changeover to a new platform wouldn't be as bad as we'd anticipated. And I'm not one to criticise without seeing for things for myself, so I resolved to stick with it and try to embrace the change. Easier said than done. A month on, 20six today is a pathetic shadow of what it was. And the new platform that was supposed to herald so much has instead made blogging here impossible. It's not only massively inferior to the platform it's replaced, it's resolutely unsuitable for what it is designed to do. It doesn't facilitate, it obstructs. It's buggy, unnecessarily rigid and elements that should be straightforward are too complex for their own good. A blogging platform that requires you to log in every time you visit and which logs you out at will, sometimes within minutes, is worse than useless. I'm not prepared to watch helplessly again as several hours of writing disappear into the ether when I hit the 'Save as Draft' button and see the words "Your session has timed out. Please log-in" instead of the expected blog entry.  Presentation matters to me. It's not just about content; I want my blog to look how I want it to, and compared to other platforms out there, 20six lite just doesn't cut it. So I'm boarding this place up and bugging out. I appreciate that this will make no difference whatsoever to those who own and run 20six. The deal with 02 and others that was so instrumental in forcing the change is what matters, not the views and frustrations of those of us who at the end of the day have had the benefit of free software. There's a new order here, and those of us who don't like the way it's headed can go elsewhere. So that's what I'm doing. I'm just getting to grips with WordPress and the finer points of self-hosting and I have to say, although it's early days yet, it's a revelation and I'm wondering why I didn't make the jump sooner. It's clean, flexible, straightforward and as a platform, eminently stable. And by self hosting, I'll never again be forced to watch as something I've created is changed beyond recognition and rendered useless. My new home is at www.someoneelseslife.com and I'll be redirecting my www.black-rat.net domain to point there in due course. To my readers who have supoprted me over the past three years, and those who have contributed so much by way of comments and discussion, thank you. Please update your bookmarks and links to point to the new URL, and I hope to see you over there. The new blog is something of a work in progress at the moment and as with any new home, I'll be decorating and changing things once I'm settled. The important thing is that it works, it's approximating a design that I like and I can blog again. Farewell all, I hope to see you there. And in the words of one Vinny Jones, can I just say..."It's been emotional!" Cheers. |
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28.2.05 17:13 |
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