A PHOTO-JOURNAL: TWELVE MONTHS of THIS LIFE IN PICTURES - 2004
This then, is my year. As in 2003, I've blogged a pictorial retrospective featuring the highlights of the past 52 weeks and how they've impacted my life, changed me and moulded my future. Twelve months' worth of pictures which shine the brightest light on the events that have shaped my personality throughout 2004, the people and things that have touched my life.
It's a strange job, journalism. I feel blessed that my work allows me to open so many closed doors, revealing a little of what it is that engages, occupies or frustrates others from so many different fields. That I have to write about it all afterwards, educate and inform through words and pictures seems a small price to pay for the knowledge and experiences that my work gifts me.
There are 51 pictures here: 51 images, which define the events that I remember most. Some are important, some not so, lying on the periphery of the event that gave rise to their existence. All tell a story and fit with the short narrative that accompanies them.
Each image here is an average 55kb in size which on its own is nothing, although collectively, the 51 images may take a minute to load even via a broadband connection. If you can take the time to look, read and comment, please do so - it will be appreciated. If you've stumbled here by accident, my apologies for having slowed your browsing.
I've made no mention of the major events of the past twelve months that have coloured the news, made an impact on society in general or the world at large except for where they impact or collide with my own experience. This is not a blog about world events, war or the changes which contemporary existence visits on the way we live our lives. This is a blog about Someone Else's Life and the events and people that have shaped it.
DECEMBER 2003
Taking Fire: A surprise call from my news editor at the agency mid month changed the immediate landscape of my life forever. "Fancy taking up the post of Baghdad correspondent?". Thus, two days later I was at a government facility undertaking a Surviving Hostile Regions Course run by the Army. Countless briefings allied to practical instruction on battlefield first aid, weapons handling and how to make best use of cover when under fire backed up with a cocktail of vaccinations and the issue of respirator, flak jacket, boots and NATO helmet. Home to a raft of meetings with various government departments in Whitehall to discuss deployment in early 2004.
That done, it was straight over to Heathrow to undertake a freelance assignment for one of my other clients, an aviation magazine.
Above the Below: At the controls of a Boeing 747-400 on finals for Heathrow's Runway 28R. British Airways invited me to spend a day at their pilot training facility in Cranebank just before Christmas, finishing up with an hour in one of the company's full-motion simulators. It's as real as £20m can make it - it looks real, it sounds real and it feels it - this thing replicates every movement on all three axis. Against all odds, I managed to land it in one piece.
JANUARY 2004
A quiet start to the New Year - no assignments in the first week, just a raft of meetings at the FCO in London to discuss various aspects of my impending assignment to Iraq.
The 8th saw me undertaking an assingment with a difference: a story about the explosive growth of the UK lingerie market and the name synomous with its success, figleaves.com
Lingerie Dreams: In the past, High Street companies like Marks and Spencer were the de facto choice for underwear purchases but for a generation raised on ‘Sex and the City’, tastes are becoming ever more adventurous and have led to a whole new market of designer-band luxury items, shunning scratchy lace in favour of sheerer, more comfortable fabrics. The lexicon for the internet generation is ‘anything goes’, a legacy of the rave culture of the eighties which saw underwear worn as outerwear.
Figleaves was founded six years ago by its current chairman Daniel Nabarro and survived the dot.com crash of 1999 to become the thriving success story that it is today, offering intimate apparel from its website in over 2,500 styles from over 170 designer brands. Today, the company offers online shoppers the widest range of lingerie, hosiery and corsetry available anywhere in the world offering more styles, sizes and brands than any other online or physical retailer.
The following day saw me in Soho for lunch with friend and bon viveur Alan Crompton-Batt to discuss some potential stories. As PR for top chef Marco Pierre White he was always entertaining company and the venues were always interesting. This was no different - lunch at Quo Vadis in Dean St. We didn't know it then but that was to be the last time I saw Alan - sadly, he was dead just six months later. A great loss.
Snow Joke: The month ended exactly the way it had one year previously: with Southern England grinding to a standstill due to 'surprise' weather on the 29th. Five days warning; One hour's snowfall; 2 inches.
FEBRUARY 2004
Bombay Dreams: A quiet start to the month driving a desk with a long list of potential commissions to organise and sell. One already in the bag though was a story about Bombay Sapphire Gin which saw me at Vinnopolis in London on the 16th to research. I met with the chief 'mixologist' who took me through the brand's history and the distillation process before getting me very drunk on a range of cocktails, prepared and drunk in a bar that looked like something out of an advert for uber-cool - I felt untidy just standing there. I was then entertained to lunch by Bombay Sapphire's PR before being despatched with a bottle of the stuff to drink at my own leisure. Oh the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. Like the lingerie assignment - tough job, but somebody has to do it.
I've Created a Monster: Time on my hands mid month saw me undertaking something I'd never attempted before: home building a top-flight PC system. Having drawn up a wish list of components for the ultimate system, I then set about sourcing them, taking advantage of internet ordering and indulging that wonderful feeling of having a courier arrive almost daily bearing gifts; electronic gadgetry to make me go weak at the knees.
Fly Girl: RAF Squadron Leader Nicola Smith at the controls of her Griffin SAR Helo. I had a commission to interview her, so to RAF Brize Norton on the 21st to catch a military flight to RAF Akrotiri in Cyrpus and a week as a guest of the squadron which Nicola commands: 84 Squadron.
Hanging on a String: To give me a taste of squadron life, Nicola arranged for me to undertake a few sorties with her. One of these involved moving a company of infantry soldiers on exercise from one end of the island to the other. Another saw me lowered from the helicopter onto a Royal Navy patrol boat in the Mediterranean Sea (above).
Landing Flare: Returning from a sortie, one of the squadron's helos touches down at Akrotiri. The bright sunshine and balmy climate were the perfect antidote to Britain's grey skies and cold temperature. And RAF Akrotiri's officers were the perfect hosts: one of my most memorable days from 2004 was the Friday afternoon we spent in the mess; It started at 13:00 on the terrace with pitchers of Gin and Tonic; we wound up on the bar in the Officers' Mess at 23:00 drinking Champagne from the bottle.
MARCH 2004
BA's New First Class Product - now with more leg room than ever! The interior of one of British Airway's 737-300 airliners (above), stripped out, valeted and ready for return to the leasing company. No sooner had I arrived back from Cyprus than I got a call from my contact at BA: "Fancy a trip to our engineering facility at Glasgow Airport?". We caught a flight up from Heathrow and overnighted at the Glasgow Thistle Hotel. A memorable night out in Sauciehall Street before work the following morning with a flight back later that afternoon.
Rave on: Hit the ground running with a meeting in London the following day at the Ministry of Sound to interview Mark Rodol, the CEO. Having grown into a global brand since its birth as a club in 1993, the MoS today employs 125 staff, with an average age of 24 and a totally flat structure. It operates out of offices attached to the club in South London and draws upon its own resources for every aspect of its operation. The brand has never worked with an ad agency, for example, employing its own creatives within its own ad agency. It is now so efficient that it regularly attracts commissions from external companies and brands looking for the MoS’s own particular style of creativity.
Mind Reader: Amidst preparations for my imminent departure for Baghdad, I went to interview up and coming mind reader Jez Rose over lunch.
The following day was my last at home before departure to Iraq: with a heavy heart, I bid my family goodbye and headed back to RAF Brize Norton where I had a room booked on the night of the 23rd. An 01:00 alarm, 02:00 check in and an 04:30 departure on an almost empty RAF TriStar jet for a flight back to RAF Akrotiri, the hub for all east-bound RAF flights.
Fighter Escort: Over Cyprus. After landing, I spent 9 hours killing time in a transit warehouse before catching an RAF Hercules C130 for the three hour flight into Basra. The Herc is the only aircraft suitable for carrying passengers and which is also equipped with defensive Electronic Counter Measures and flares to protect against Surface to Air missiles.
The 3.5 hour flight was in a spartan, windowlless cabin, sat on canvas webbing with just a pair of ear plugs issued on boarding to protect against the intrusive noise of the four engines. The approach to Basra was flown tactically, and in utter darkness, with all internal and external lights extinguised, the aircraft banking hard from side to side in a helter-skelter fashion to make it harder for anyone on the ground hoping to ruin our day. Landing at 21:00 local, we then had to sleep on a cot in the departure hall until catching another Herclules for the one hour flight north to Baghdad the following morning.
Welcome to Baghdad: The Crossed Swords monument inside the Coalition controlled Green Zone. After being met by my close protection team at Baghdad airport, I was driven at high speed to the relative safety of the Green Zone, my home for the forseeable future.
I was accommodated initially in a spartan trailer containing a cot, side table, wardrobe and air conditioning unit. It was however in the midst of an army garrison at Maude House, Battalion HQ for the soldiers of the Parachute Regiment (16 Air Assault Brigade), who were providing British Force Protection. The bar was well stocked though - and heavily subsidised!
Where I blogged from: Home Base was at the CPA HQ inside Saddam's old Republican Palace. After being issued with passes, I was given a mobile phone, the keys to a Land Rover and a map of the Green Zone inside of which I had freedom of movement. My spiritual home though was at the International Media Bureau, housed with the U.S Central Military Command in the Convention Centre opposite the Al Rashid Hotel and it was from here that I spent most time when not out on assignment. Broadband internet meant filing copy was a breeze; it also enabled me to blog, talk with freinds and family on MSN Messenger and surf the net. Er, so just like home, then. Except...
Aftermath of a Car Bomb, Assassin's Gate, Baghdad: Car bombs, rocket and mortar attacks, RPGs and gunfire were the soundtrack to daily life within the Green Zone. Every day heralded something new - mortars or rocket attacks which landed inside our accommodation or office blocks, attacks on us when driving from place to place in armoured SUVs. Given that it was only those from the CPA that used them, we may as well have had "Shoot Me" painted on them for all the anonymity they afforded. To an insurgent, white SUV= Target.
Sentinels: Three U.S parachute infantry soldiers of the 82nd Airborne Division, part of the force providing the regular guard at the Convention Centre. A good rapport established between us and they were a regular feature at some of the barbecues and parties hosted by the FCO and other British agency personnel in Baghdad.
Poverty: On a trip outside the Green Zone to an Iraqi Customs and Border Police facility southwest of Baghdad, I left my CP team and wandered outside to a city of cardboard and corrugated iron shelters built on wasteland. This is what these kids call life - parents so poor they can't afford housing, fashioning a roof and walls out of whatever they can salvage.
APRIL 2004
Mehdi Alwan, MBE: One Saturday in April, I was driven with Christopher Segar, (head of Britain’s Office in Iraq) to a beautiful Old Colonial style building just outside of the Green Zone where I discovered something hitherto as rare as WMD in Iraq - "Good News". The building used to be Britain's Embassy in Baghdad but was deserted when the tanks rolled into Kuwait in 1991. As Christopher Segar - then the deputy head of mission - left, he handed the Embassy's keys to caretaker Mehdi Alwan (above) and said "Look after this place until we come back".
73 year old Mr Alwan took him at his word and did just that - until late 2003 when we finally returned to the Embassy. We attended the building for a ceremony to recognise his tireless loyalty to the Crown in which Mr Alwan was awarded the MBE by Christopher Segar.
Low Profile Security: U.S. Ambassador and head of the CPA, L. Paul Bremer arrives by US Army Blackhawk at a football stadium outside Baghdad flanked by his security detail. The event was the unveiling of the Iraqi Olympic Logo.
Press trips with Ambassador Bremer were anything but understated. One visit I accompanied him to was on the Iranian border. To get there, we flew in a 'chalk' of four Blackhawk helos, flanked by two 'Little Birds', two Apache gunships and an F16 enforcing an air exclusion zone above us. Upon arrival on the ground, elements of a U.S Army armoured division had created a sterile coccoon for us to operate within.
General Khalaf Jassim Hamud Al-Salmany: The then head of Iraq's Border Police, flanked by Gordon and Chris, two of the team from British Customs and Excise who were in Baghdad to train Iraqi customs officers. Chris, Gordon and I together with Martin from Crown Agents forged a strong bond whilst in Iraq. Evenings would be spent dining at the Al Rashid Hotel opposite the Convention Centre, or at a Chinese restuarant inside the Green Zone before retiring to the bar. We spent one night dining out in the restaurant's garden whilst Apache Helicopter Gunships rained fire on Sadr City from the heliport adjacent to us and tracer fire from insurgents arced into the night sky above. Just another night in Baghdad.
Just before the first anniversary of the war, attacks by insurgents increased dramatically resulting in a lockdown and bar on movement for CPA personnel outside the Green Zone. On the night of the 8th, we were all ordered out of our accommodation and moved to secure undergrond bunkers.
Self Portrait next to a blast wall within at Maude House, just before I moved. After the lockdown, movement within the Green Zone became restricted and I was effectively unable to work so I arranged a flight home via Kuwait. On the 8th, the Customs guys got out; I was due out 2 days later. As I stood on the roof of the accommodation block to say farewell to the city on my final night, I came under rocket attack. One exploded close enough for the blast to lift me off my feet; the second had my name on it and landed close enough that I watched it hit; it failed to explode. Happy doesn't even come close.
Farewell Baghdad: A Hercules C-130 departs BIAP. After a hair-raising drive to the airport at high speed, avoiding burned-out cars we came under sustained mortar attack whilst awaiting our flight. An RPG was launched at the C-130 which departed before ours and by the time I landed in Kuwait my nerves were just about frayed. Overnight at Camp Wolverine, Mubarak Air Base before transfer to Kuwait International Airport and the bliss of civillian luxury. British Airways's Club World from Kuwait to Heathrow on the 11th, nicely illustrating the dichotomy between my arrival and departure. Friend Nobby met me on arrival and drove me home to my wife and family. I've never been so happy.
MAY 2004
Pretty in pink: The Zetter Hotel, Clerkenwell: I'd been commissioned to review this newly opened hotel in EC1 before my assignment to Baghdad so it was something to look forward to upon my return and it didn't disappoint. Stayed over on the night of the 9th - it was my wife's birthday on the 10th, so we woke up somewhere different. Took her to dinner at The Bangal Clipper in SE1.
Perhaps unsurprisingly, my industriousness took a nosedive upon my return from Iraq and I developed a nervous reaction to the internalisation of the stress of being under fire. It cleared itself up within weeks of my return but my motivation took a while longer to reappear. Spent the month buying and selling on eBay instead of working - it was just as profitable and funded the purchase to two new pro lenses for my Nikon D1.
Met up with Martin (Crown Agent) and Chris (HMCE) from Baghdad on the 20th. We went to Smollensky's on the Strand - a most enjoyable evening. Later that week, I was approached by the agency with a request to return to Iraq to cover the handover of power in June but after my blog was discovered by the agency's ultimate bosses later in May, the offer was rescinded. Oops - hoist by my own petard.
JUNE 2004
Darren gets his head down: A serving wench gives friend Darren somwhere to put his head during an Elizabethan Banquet at Hatfield House. Not our usual choice for a night out but friend Nick and his Spanish wife Eva played host to a group of Eva's friends and family from back home and we thought we'd do something different.
Top Gear: A break during filming at Top Gear studios, Surrey, on the 9th June. As the ensuing episode screened at 22:00 instead of its normal time of 21:00 due to Euro 2004, the normal audience of 7 million viewers deserted in droves. I was on screen for a good 20 minutes, but I always look different on TV so that even my own mother has difficulty in recognising me. And yes, Richard Hammond really is that small. Nice guy, though.
Don't be fooled by the smile: To Kemble airfield with friend and photographer Matt on the 17th for a press event held by Red Bull in conjunction with their Air Race. The carrot was for us hacks to fly the course with the World's top stunt pilot Peter Besenyei.
Peter at Work: The challenge in the air race is to tackle a 2000 metre obstacle course in the sky, complete with specially designed 18-metre high air-filled ‘cones’ and perform complex manoeuvres including loops and rolls whilst flying very low at speeds of up to 250mph.
Cresting a vertical climb: My mission - which I foolishly chose to accept - was to fly the course, with its 8g turns, spins, loops and rolls flavoured with the odd Immelman, inverted loop and torque turn just for good measure. The dish is best served on a strong stomach as nausea is a common side effect for the inexperienced.
No, I dnt no txt spk rly: As I was driving home from a visit to friends on the 20th, I stopped at some traffic lights, looked up and saw this. I had no idea the modelling I did as a favour for a photographer friend in 2003 was destined for the AA's marketing department. Gave me a bit of a surprise - but it scared the hell out of Em!
JULY 2004
Finger on the trigger: A quiet month on the work front which saw me driving a desk for most of the time punctuated by the occasional visit to research a story. The picture above is from one such trip - for a commission on Holland and Holland, gunmakers by Royal Appointment. Busy time socially - school holidays and an upturn in temperatures towards the end of the month saw me viewing life through a more colourful and positive prism.
AUGUST 2004
Lazing on a sunny afternoon: Sometimes, life just falls into place - and Saturday 7th was one of those days. With the mercury nudging 90deg, P and I drove to Marlow-on-Thames and spent the day on the river. The day encompassed one of the things I most love about London and its environs -the whole world in our pocket. The scenery, the the sunshine were redolent of lazy days in foreign climes, yet they were also typical of what makes living here so wonderful - the fact that it's all here within 30 minutes drive of London's centre. Rolling hills, rivers, ancient chapels...add in a climate like we experienced on Saturday and it could almost be perfect, a vision of a Utopian ideal. Fully 20% of London's 8million inhabitants seemingly vanish in August, meaning empty roads, no queues and plentiful taxis. How much better can it get?
I know many people are bemoaning our lack of summer this year, but the temperature stayed in the high 80s for several days this month, including one night - the 9th - when the mercury didn't drop below 76deg.
Making Hitler: The 10th saw me at the Soho offices of Britain's leading post-production and CGI effects house The Moving Picture Company, to research a commission on how Britain leads the world in this strange alchemy. Whilst there, I got a sneak preview of several scenes from a forthcoming documentary series commissioned by the Discovery Channel, a project which heralded the next generation of television history programmes and the "holy grail" of Computer Generated Imagery - bringing historical events to life so realistically that the audience believes that it is watching genuine archive footage.
Look at all that denim: 20six London Blinks. A meeting in London on Friday 13th saw me at a loose end fairly early on but a quick post on 20six sorted out my plans - an impromptu Blinks. Met at the John Snow in Soho before going on to a Malaysian restaurant in Peter St. From left, Bobble and Bubb, Em, Erudite Baboon, YAAGers, Cheapy and Dom.
Party Bus: Saturday 14th saw 10 of us board a bus through the countryside to friends Kelly and Darren who were hosting a barbecue. That's my mate Nick (right) and his Spanish wife, Eva above.
The following weekend saw my daughter A on a sleepover for the weekend and wife P in Guenrsey with friends so Nick and I made for Soho on the Friday night and a lads' night out. Bliss! Lots to drink, some good laddish talk and dinner at our favourite Malaysian in Peter St. Home to a big empty bed and awoke early on Saturday turning on the TV just as Pinsent and co got underway in the Coxless Fours final. What a way to start the weekend, watching them snatch Gold from the Canadians in such understated style.
Something to Declare: Britain's Olympic Athletes touch down at London's Gatwick Airport with a haul of 30 medals. The Olympics proved a worthy diversion for me - I didn't get much done in the way of work, but I had plenty to occupy my time during the day - and no shortage of blogging inspiration!
The Spans: Nick's wife Eva had her 18-year old neice, her boyfriend and his mate over from Spain for two weeks at the end of the month. Saw a fair bit of them too - great company, great fun, a real breath of fresh air through our English lives. Cue lots of parties, barbecues, pub gardens of an evening, etc.
SEPTEMBER 2004
We could be heroes: The 21st brought me an assignment which might have been classed as work, but never has one seemed less like it. A perfect Autumn day which saw me in London to interview General Sir Peter de la Billière KCB CBE DSO MC. I’ve long admired General Sir Peter de la Billière. His was a unique career, forged at a time when Britain seemed to be fighting wars on every front. He was there, in all of them, seeing active service and winning a number of medals for courage under fire. The experienced he gained proved invaluable in later years when he went on to command the Special Air Service, and later, as one of Britain’s leading Generals, in shaping the army as a master strategist and tactician.
For me, September saw photographic commissions overtake written ones for the most part - no hardship given the Indian summer we enjoyed which made the prospect of desk-driving less than inviting.
OCTOBER 2004
Sand in my shoes: No queue at check-in; twenty minutes in the departure lounge and two hours and twenty minutes by air. That's how long it takes to leave this life and enter the tranquility, balmy climes and relaxed lifestyle of southern Spain. Flew to Malaga on the 3rd for a week in the sun with my mate Steve at his villa there. As I look out at the steely grey skies spead low over the horizon, it's hard to believe that barely three hours away, another world, another way of life bathed in 300 days of sun each year runs seamlessly intertwined with this one. At this moment in time, I'd willingly swap.
Seemed like there was scarcely space in my diary from this point until the end of the year. Returned to London and on the 13th, picked up a Ferrari 348ts to play with for a week. Oh, and write about.
Riding the prancing pony: A beautiful peice of Pininfarina design, rosso red paint, 300bhp from a 3.5l V8... Whoever you are, your fanciability seems to go up by a factor of ten when you get out of a Ferrari - My wife's friends asked me to have sex with them and the bank manager offered to buy me dinner. Well, it is work!
Picked up a hire car on the 19th and early morning on the 20th, with my mate Matt (who's also a bit handy with a camera and doubles as a pro snapper), drove to RAF Valley to interview this lady:
Fast Girl: Jules Thurston as she appeared in ITV's Formula Woman race series. I'd been commissioned to write about her role in her day job which is as a combat pilot instructor with 208 Squadron RAF:
Valley Girl: She's an absolute chramer, Jules; slight, modest and pretty, in civillian clothes she's understated, quiet. But beneath that cool exterior lies an extraordinately talented, highly focused lady - she's in the top 1% of RAF fighter pilots. Yes, she's that good.
"Switching to Missiles!" The plan was for me to go flying with her but rain stopped play. Or in this case the wind, which was gusting across the runway at over 40mph on the morning of our planned sortie. So that was put on on hold and I instead took to the simulator where I flew a Hawk low level through the Welsh Valleys before firing a missile and blowing up a cottage. Beats computer games any day!
Drove home on the Thursday 21st but didn't bother unpacking; half term started next day and we were all off with friends Nick and Eva and their daughter C for a week in the Lakes, staying in an isolated cottage in the hamlet of Deepdale.
Climb every mountain: Taking a picture of our cottage in Deepdale from the summit of Angle Tarn (1,749ft). I didn't know it at the time (hence taking a picture with my XDA) but I'd left my Nikon D1 behind at RAF Valley. I got to the Lakes, unpacked my camera bag and it wasn't there so I spent the holiday inconsolable thinking I'd lost £4000 of digital SLR. A call from Jules Thurston at the tail end of the holiday left me somewhat happier than I had been!
Angle Tarn in Winter: I hadn't realised how much I'd enjoy climbing. We did several of the Lakes' peaks whilst there and each one left me with a massive sense of achievement. Drove the 300miles home on Saturday 30th in a record 3 hours 55 minutes - end of the school holidays too!
NOVEMBER 2004
Firework display courtesy of an Apache Gunship: Drove to RAF Boscombe Down on the 4th for exclusive access to the MOD's most secret testing facility, a place regarded by most conspiracy theorists as Britain's answer to Area 51. It's nothing of the sort - Boscombe Down is simply the Ministry of Defence's facility for developing, testing and evaluation of all aircraft, weapons and avionics that will enter service with the British military and I was there to write a feature about its operations.
Met a girlfriend, Pauline for lunch on the 5th and had a weekend of hedonism with Nick and Eva at theirs before an early start on Monday 8th and a train back to RAF Valley to meet with Fl. Lt. Jules Thurston at 208 Squadron. Spent most of the day in briefings before heading off base with her for the evening, and dinner at a local restaurant. We were slotted in for a 12:10 sortie the following afternoon as part of a battle pair. Late evening with some of the squadron pilots in the Mess.
Break right: Pulling a 4G turn across the M6 just east of Penrith, Cumbria. I'd watched the fighter jets scream low and fast over the Lakes whilst there on holiday in half term week but I had no idea I'd be back doing it myself so soon after.
Inverted above clouds somewhere over the Irish Sea: Military aircrew fly at low level principally, because hugging the terrain means flying below the operational effectiveness of enemy air defence systems. In peacetime, training for this is conducted at any of the UK's 18 designated low flying areas, at speeds of 450 knots and at heights ranging from 100-250ft. The first hour of the sortie was spent in a battle pair with another jet screaming across the Lakes and through Cumbria's valleys, pulling high G turns and vertical climbs. Transiting back to RAF Valley, we climbed to high altitude and Jules handed control of the Hawk to me for half an hour of flying combat manoeuvres.
Self portrait at 7,000ft and 500 knots: Assignments come and go, and with each one to push the envelope of my imagination still further I think, "It can't get any better than this". But something comes along to up the ante, another dream fulfilled. I learn something, do something, change something and walk away with a different persective, a better understanding of the elements of other people's roles, their lives. People ask me what's so special, why is my job so different? It's things, people like this. The money may not be so great and more often than not, the fallow times dwarf the profitable ones but you can't have everything in life and there has to be a compromise somehwere. Sod the money. This is what inspires me.
I had plenty of time to think on the tortuous train journey home later that evening but having spent so long pulling high G, I felt like my mind had been sucked through a funnel and joined up thinking was a reach too far. I slept well that night, though. Drove to Heathrow the following day for lunch with my contact at BA to discuss some potential stories and then on Thursday 11th, met with Natasha, another PR for lunch at a new restaurant she was looking to promote.
Self portrait at home a few days before my 37th Birthday: After travelling the length and breadth of Britain on assignments over the previous weeks, the rest of the month illustrated the dichotomy nicely. Spent almost all of it working from home 'in mufti' to deliver a raft of outstanding stories including my final set for the agency. Had a host of features to write and pictures to edit and a tight deadline. Spent the evening of my birthday on the 17th at a local restaurant with my wife, stopping at Nick and Eva's on the way home for a Champagne toast. Which was nice!
DECEMBER 2004
Having cleared the decks of all outstanding commissions by the end of November, I had a clear month ahead, which was just as well. Looking back, it seems like most of December was one long round of parties and drinks. Freelance working sees everything amplified - you go weeks without seeing anyone and come Christmas, invitations for lunch, drinks, parties and launches arrive from the countless PRs and contacts who are a journalist's lifeline. Add in the drinks with friends and it becomes a long month indeed!
Kicked things off with a Christmas lunch with one of my editors; lunch with a girlfriend the following day and on the first Saturday of December, possibly the biggest 20six Blinks to date when over 20 of us met at the Old Thameside Inn, SE1. Following Tuesday I had lunch with Torsten, an old colleague and then on the 15th, met my editor at the agency for lunch in London.
City Slickers: In my City days, with friend and colleague Ian at the Brittania Hotel, Docklands 1993. They say you shouldn't live in your past. In that respect, it's a lot like Birmingham - I wouldn't want to live there either, but I see nothing wrong with visiting it every now and then. My present career owes a massive amount to a certain part of my past and on the 15th, with someone instrumental in the shaping of who I am, I retraced old steps. And it was better than good; it was fantastic. Ian and I worked together in my old life; I hadn't seen him for 7 years. We spent the night of the 15th retracing old steps in the City's bars, pubs and restaurants. One of my most memorable evenings of 2004.
Sunset over This Life, 2004: Spent a most delightful evening in London on Monday 20th meeting with several 20six bloggers in honour of Atrus who was visiting from Belgium. Met at Corney and Barrow in Old Broad St, before heading over to Vertigo on the 42nd floor of Tower 42 - until Canart Wharf, London's tallest building. The Champagne flowed, the views were incredible, the company enchanting. Dinner afterwards at Terminus, a Conran-owned tapas bar in EC2. Just a day later, I was back in London escorting a girlfriend to T-Mobile's Snow Flake Christmas Ball in Covent Garden. She slept the night at ours but my hangover was worse than hers.
Every year starts the same for me: I have no idea what it will bring work wise and other than a few ideas for potential features, no inspiration as to what direction things will take or what countries I'll visit. As in 2003, I never dreamed at the start of 2004 that the year could pan out the way it has. I've done some things this year which will always stand out as waypoints in my life, created memories which will live with me always. As ever though, it's the love and support of those closest to me which defines all and shines like a beacon through the mist of my future, illuminating the way ahead. I know little of what awaits in 2005 but then, that's half the fun.
I hope that 2005 proves to be a happy and prosperous year for all my readers - and thank you for supporting my blog; thanks too for the countless comments and emails over the past twelve months. A Happy New Year to you all.
