The plan? Authorise every British consulate the world over to block book hotel rooms in the vicinity. Instruct them to block book coaches and despatch them to major cities the world over. Instruct stranded Britons to go to those cities and get on those coaches. Don’t send the coaches to Calais, send them to Holland and Germany to utilise ferries from there. Buy bulk places on ferries and pay whatever is necessary to get ferry companies to squeeze in more capacity. Use those hotel rooms to put up Britons while the coaches start to flow and the backlog starts to clear.

Tell the people not to worry. Tell them the government will recover hotel and food costs from the airlines when it’s all over. Let’s face it, the sooner this is done, the less liabilities for food and hotels the airlines will see. The airlines should cooperate with this.

Total cost? I’d bet less than 10 million. A lot of money for sure, but you will buy the vote of everyone you repatriate and everyone who is waiting for them. Buying votes is not exactly democratic but you can defend this position.

The opposition say “it’s wasteful, knee kerk”… you say “Tell that to the stranded people, may of whom on their one holiday of the year on a budget airline in jobs that won’t pay them when absent, with children missing school and running up debts that will take them years to pay off as they dwarf the cost of their hard saved for holiday”

What else can the opposition say? The worst they can say is that you delayed a rescue. That will be true so you can stand up and say “Yes, we delayed, we had to wait and see but enough’s enough now, we’re acting and we’re getting people home”.

The opposition will accuse you of buying votes, of course they will. They will accuse you of making political capital out of a less-than-end-of-the-world scenario. But you will be able to stand up in the next debate and say, “whatever you think of this government, whatever happens in the election I will sleep well knowing that I mobilised the power of our democracy for the benefit of people in need when the people needed it”.

Only good can come of this for the Government, if you act now, and act big. No more lame warship gestures with space for a few hundred people. Go in heavy and sort it out. This exercise will cost you less than one day’s War.

I commend it to the house!

Dear Mum,

Eating cheese before bed does not give you nightmares. Sometimes I eat cheese sandwiches before bed just to test that I’m still right on this and you are still wrong.

Apple skin does not “rest on your chest”. Unless you actually drop it before eating it.

My face will not “get stuck like that”. As I write this I’m pulling a very odd face indeed. I’ve also left a window open to ensure the wind is blowing past. I’ve been doing this for several minutes now and my face has not yet stuck in its contorted state. I’m pretty sure that it’s not going to.

Fear of an accident is no reason to wear clean underwear. It’s just good hygiene. In any event, during the worst accident I’ve had I thought I’d probably crapped myself but it turns out the only skid marks were from the tarmac. In either case, the cleanliness of my underwear prior to the accident was of no concern to me and of less concern to the hospital staff.

Watching TV does not make your eyes square. Anyway, TVs are wide-screen these days so if there are any ill effects it’s more likely to involve rectangles (16:9 ratio) than squares. We also have high definition these days so I think watching TV is actually likely to improve my eyesight.

I didn’t wear my glasses and I have 20:20 vision today. I told you I didn’t need them. My son though DOES need his. So Ollie, if you’re reading this just read the bits above and realise that your Dad was right about a lot and I’m right about you really needing to wear your glasses.

It doesn’t matter whether you slice the cheese on the long side or the short, it goes just as far. The volume does not vary depending on the cut.

Sitting on the radiator does not give you chilblains. It does however give you plumbing bills and the occasional need to re-plaster.

Eating the seeds of apples/oranges/grapes etc. will not result in a tree or vine sprouting from my bottom. Yes, I’ve checked.

Playing with it will not cause it to fall off. Though speaking as the father of three boys I understand why you were keen to make a point on this one.

Buying gifts at the airport isn’t in the same category as buying your wife flowers from the petrol station on the way home either. The gifts are tacky but kids like tacky. All they really want is something that has the name of the place you visited and is small enough to take into show-and-tell on monday. This type of souveneir isn’t sold in the massive shopping mall next to your hotel, it might be sold at some tourist spot but on a busy business trip generally you are not going to make it there. So, the airport is the place. The place you can rely on for the little things that get kids wonderign about the world and gives them something to look up on the globe, pin to a map, whatever.

This has worked very well in a recent spate of business travel. Wristbands from The Netherlands, Key Fobs from Paris, Red Sox plates from Boston (best not mention this last one since I bought three and only had two on unpacking in the UK…) but Malaysia? No. At Kuala Lumpur International Airport you cannot buy this stuff. You can buy Gucci, Dunhill, Perfume, Cigarettes, Cigars, Booze and Kids toys that you will find in Tescos all over the world. You can buy chocolates and you can buy Union Flag Key Fobs and little Beefeater figurines from the KLIA branch of Harrods but can you buy a T-Shirt “Someone who loves me went to KL and all I got was this lousy t-shirt”? No. Can you buy a key-fob, medal or indeed any piece of tat with “Kuala Lumpur” emblazoned upon it? No.

Fortunately, anticipating a certain lack of shopping ability on my part rather than cheesy-gift-free-zones my Wife makes plans for my failure to obtain appropriate gifts and has a certain stock of location agnostic giveaways that could be from anywhere and are at least something, rather than nothing.

I type this on a Malaysian Airlines Business Lounge PC, gazing onto a pristeen  taxi-way awaiting the flight home. The headache has almost gone, the Nausea already has and the “Kuala Lumps” (think Delhi Belly) seems to have, how shall I say, run their course.

Wait! Genius! I just notices a small pile of identical postcards. Pictures of a 747-400 at KL and on the back it says “Malaysia”.  They will do. Write a “Wish you were here” message on them and post through the door back home. Three delighted kids guaranteed. Thank you Malaysian Airlines!

“Flight MH4 now boarding at gate 4.” I have to go…

Lets examine the evidence..

First, there is more than a passing physical resemblence between Shrek and I. Anyone who knows me could attest.

Like me, Shrek has three offspring who confuse him with some invincible young person with boundless energy who is impervious to pain inflicted while ‘play’ fighting.

Like me, Shrek has a best friend who is annoyingly optimistic and has to be told quite clearly when his visit is over and it’s time to go home. Sorry Si – you know it’s true.

Like me, Shrek lives in a house that has too much stuff in for its size.

Like mine, Shrek’s house is in a swamp. Not literally of course. But I think of the swamp as a metaphor for living on a modern estate – despite this one being very pleasant by many measures.

There’s another similarity. Shrek likes his swamp too.

Shrek knows the only bastion of peace is the toilet. An Englishman’s home may be his castle but a Dad’s sanctuary is the loo.

Like me, Shrek has an appalling diet. This is because we both know that anything that lengthens the time we can plausibly remain in the throne room is a good thing.

When Shrek shouts, the family listen… then ignore him anyway.

Princess Fiona was a babe before he met her and now she’s an ogress. This is a statement of fact and unlike all the others above bears no resemblance to my life whatsoever.

Shrek is not at all scared of his wife.

“Two cappuchinos, one earl grey tea, one breakfast tea and a cup of hot water please.”

“Would you like ice in the water?”

I think for a moment. Yes, that makes sense. My colleague who wants hot water will be able to drink it without 3rd degree burns so yes, ice makes sense to me.

“Yes please.”

Teas arrive. Coffees Arrive. Water arrives (with ice) in a plastic ‘glass’.

“This can’t be right…” methinks. I feel the ‘glass’. It’s cold – luckily, lest it collapse in a molten heap.

“Excuse me. I asked for a cup of hot water.”

“Hot water?”

“Yes”

Assistant 1 confers with assistant 2.

“Sorry sir, we do not do hot water.”

“Pardon?”

“We do not do hot water.”

“But my tea is hot. It’s made with water.”

“Yes, but it’s tea.”

“But it’s only water until you add the teabag. Until then, it’s hot water. Isn’t it?”

“Yes, but we can’t sell it.”

“Ah, I see…”

I gather my thoughts. I think the problem is they want to charge me for a cup of hot water (ok) but it’s not on the menu.

“Could I have a cup of tea without the teabag?”

“No teabag? No, sorry”.

I’m now starting to question my own sanity but the city type standing next to me hasn’t had this much fun in years.  I think I’ve got Starbucks man cornered now though, he’s not going to wriggle out of this. I have a cunning plan (kudos Baldrick)…

“Could I have a cup of tea please but please give me the tea bag. I don’t want the tea bag in the cup.”

“Sure, no problem, here you are sir”

He hands me the cup of hot water. And an orphaned tea bag.

Pandering to Governments’ desire to appease everyone and offend no-one is not high on the agendas of most faiths and consequently not high on the agenda of most faith based schools. Until the G-men come knocking and their central funding is at risk a faith schools is going to do what its community of parents and donors expects it to do – educate its pupils in the same way as they are “educated” at home.

To any secular onlooker, all religions of the world suffer from one obvious problem. They each believe they are right. Of course in these days of political and multi-cultural correctness that invades every aspect of our daily lives, you will find religious leaders clamouring to be the first to declare how their faith understands and accepts different cultures and viewpoints. This is of course completely inconsistent with the tenets of most faith groups. The very thing that marks them as a faith group is their belief in one god or another, one messiah or another or one interpretation of their chosen scripture against another. To say that they believe, that they have FAITH in this view or that view (or “facts” as some will falsely represent their views) and then in the same breath to say that they understand and accept the views of another group is nothing more than a bare-faced lie. They are simply paying lip-service to the media and government who will “crucify” (insert your preferred method of mutilation and murder here, I intend no religious bias) them if they don’t follow the line about tolerance.

So the report’s outcome hold no suprises for me and perhaps for no-one. It has just highlighted a much broader issue. Should faith schools exist at all? I have some views on that you won’t be shocked to hear, but that’s for another post.

p.s. Whilst I’m sure you will find typos or genuine grammatical gaffes above, the lack of a capital G for god is intentional. A capital implies that “God” is a thing or someone. I don’t believe this and since I’m doing the writing, I will decide which words I will treat as proper nouns.

I do miss motorcycling. I haven’t had a bike for almost 15 years, not since my “best mate” Simon suggested that we turn my then aging Honda CX500 into a trike as a summer project one year… that bike sat on the patio for a long time before I finally gave it away piece by piece. Just recently I have been mulling over buying a bike, I’ve even got as far as figuring out where it will be stored (no garage at home – we converted to a playroom). Now contrary to the opinions of close family, I am not having a mid-life crisis. I have enough crises day to day without adding another one to the mix. I simply enjoy motorcycling and want to do some.  Of course, the more you consider buying a bike, the more you want one NOW; not a good way to make a buying decision. So, overtaken by a fit of common sense I thought I’d hire a bike for a day, maybe a weekend and see whether I still enjoy it.

That’s where the problems begin. Have you tried to hire a motorcycle recently? Well, it’s not easy and it’s expensive. Over £100 for a day. Plus fuel, plus safety gear.

There’s another problem too. Since parenthood consumed what might at a stretch be called my “free time” for the last six years I have become a lot more risk averse. I like to experience an adrenalin rush but I am, to all intents and purposes these days, chicken. Constantly aware of my responsibilities and my desire not to render my children fatherless, I avoid doing things that place me in clear mortal danger. In fact, bicycling to work is about as risky as life gets these days.

And so it was I found myself googling “back to biking course”. Surely, I figured, there must be a market in old farts wanting to climb back on a bike, but who might be lacking some confidence or, like me, are so sensible these days that growing a tidy beard and becoming a geography teacher is an ever present threat.

Well, I got lucky. The very first site that my searching turned up was back2bikes.co.uk. My first test of any potential new supplier is their website. If it’s crap, I don’t go near. Actually, if I just don’t like it, I don’t go any further. It’s one of the bad habits from being in the Internet business. This site was nice. Most importantly, it was crystal clear. The language used was simple, direct and unambiguous. The courses available obvious. The guidance as to what course you needed was clear. They didn’t have a course entitled “Get back on yer bike – chicken old farts a speciality” but they did have an inviting “If you don’t see exactly what you want, contact us”.

It’s the contacting that usually goes wrong of course. Busy small companies lose your enquiry. Slack small companies just don’t bother. Big companies even more unpredictable. Not with Back2Bikes though. The wonderfully informative and efficient Bev replied inside 24 hours, asked me a series of sensible questions and responded sweetly to my self-deprecating comments about the size of my arse and why a full size bike rather than a 125 was essential for my self-esteem.

Lots of other touches gave me confidence about this company. Every communication, including the impeccable directions, safety info, license requirements etc. that were posted was immaculately presented. Professional letterheads and business cards, a consistent message throughout. Bev clearly has a talent for marketing or a talent for spotting web designers who do.

We settled on the fact that I wanted someone to follow me and tell me how I could ride better and generally make sure I was not endangering myself and others trolling around on two wheels. The date was set, Monday June 29th. I had my helmet, bought from the local BMW dealer several years ago in a fit of retail therapy and never worn in anger. I had my humble walking boots (a sensible footwear choice advised in the back2bike information pack) and I had high hopes of dry roads and blue skies. Armoured jacket, gloves and waterproof trousers to be provided by Back2Bikes.

The start time was set for 8.45, due to finish at 4pm. No itinerary was discussed as the day was to be one to one and tailored to whatever I wanted. Now, I hesitate to publish the price because I think they are doing themselves a disservice and undercharging but… it was £120. Sounds like a lot maybe, but actually compared to hiring a bike quite cheap considering that it includes a brand new 600cc  XJ6 to ride around on, full insurance, an entire day’s tuition (or just “rent-a-mate” if it turns out you actually can still ride!), brand new gloves and jacket, and the most fun you can have with your clothes on.

I met Rob who was to be my instructor for the day. He took me through a refresher of stuff I should (and mostly did) remember from my biking days such as road position, observations, roundabout techniques etc. He showed me round the bike and explained all. New fangled stuff to me to be honest. A cutoff switch, the fact that the lights are hardwired these days to always be on, your only choice is dip or main beam, how the indicators cancel, the gearbox, the fact that being a 600cc learner machine it is restricted (this did not affect the fun, we had to follow speed limits after all and the acceleration is still in a different league from cars). I’m pretty sure the silly grin I wore for the rest of the day was well developed at this point.

Rob wired me up with a radio. He talked, I listened. He said Bev found the earpiece painful but once I dragged my Terry Wogan like ear-lobe through it I have to say I didn’t know I was wearing it. We set out on a dry road. Rob talking me through the observations on the way round to the garage to fill up. Ten minutes later, we’re out on the road and heading for Evesham with Rob offering just the right amount of tips as we approached hazards and turns. Now, I have a full bike license and in the last year that I rode a bike I probably rode more miles (despatch riding) than many do in ten years but nonetheless, this is no time to be over-confident. I was here to learn. And learn I did. In the most encouraging, positive manner you can imagine. Rob’s a superb instructor. What a team they are!

We meander through winding roads in the Cotswold countryside eventually ending up at Burford. Now ordinarily I hate Burford. There are only so many antique shops and pricy gift shops you can stand but that’s probably due to all previous visits being done under some duress. Not today though. Today, we’re stopping for lunch in Burford. Today, we’re sat outside in the sun, helmets and gear off with cold drinks (coke, before you ask) and great BLTs served with a smile from the Highway Inn. Bikes parked a few feet away on sidestands, angled slightly uphill. It doesn’t get any better. I was so pleased with my day at this point that I bought Rob’s modest lunch. I still felt that with only one person on the “course” that I was still getting a bloody good deal and taking advantage. Frankly I was so damned happy at this point I had to stop myself from pronouncing “drinks are on me” to the other patrons.

A restful lunch and then back on the bikes. To this point, although Rob had largely stopped given me guidance and seemed to be now focussed on pointing out when I had got something particularly “right” he had been deciding directions. From Burford though we had a chat and I knew a twisty road very well from Burford through Bibury to Cirencester so after a couple of traffic light discussions as to our next move, we found ourselves riding through Cirencester, Chalford, Thrupp, Brimscombe, Stroud then up towards Painswick and over the beacon then down into Whaddon and Gloucester. A brief stop for a drink (the day was blisteringly hot by now) before making our way through Glouceser, Hampstead, Longford and back towards Tewkesbury.

The weather was perfect. The organisation from back2bikes was perfect. From the moment Rob greeted me at the garage where the bikes live, everything was professional, friendly, entertaining and pitched perfectly to my needs, vague thought they were. It was so good that I didn’t mind at all the fact that even with my full license the bike had “L” plates and I had a “Student” vest on. I didn’t care. It was all so good. I admire Bev & Rob. With a young family they have upped sticks (admittedly to the best part of the country), setup a business during the worst recession in most people’s memory and are succeeding. And no wonder; word of mouth will surely stand them well. I hope a long dry summer encourages more people to take to a bike and to do so with Bev & Rob.

Whatever the reason for doing it, whatever your skill level, even if you just want a jolly for the day, don’t look further than back2bikes. They deserve to do well, such attention to detail and professional service is rare and they have it in spades.

I’m now gazing ever more fondly at the BMW tourer in the local dealer but there is no urgency. As I dither about which bike to buy and when, I know exactly where I can get out for a day and satisfy my craving until the next time.

Bev, Rob, thank you. It was the best value for money I can remember in a long while and I will be back. Sorry about the jacket by the way – don’t know my own strength.

On September 7th 2005 Stu found me on Friends reunited and sent a message, a snippet of which (to jog Stu’s memory) is shown below. No-one reading this, except possibly Stu could understand how pleased I was to receive it given the stupid, immature way in which our business partnership ceased as we entered our twenties.

…It’s probably taken me more than a couple of minutes to figure out how to start this little note…. but I guess the easy thing is to start with the simple ‘how the hell are you?’.

Fit and well, I hope. Looking at your ‘profile’ it seems to be the case – a wife and sprogg, eh? You never really struck me as the ’settling down’ type but then I never struck me as the ’settling down’ type either and I’ve ended up a similar hole… er, I mean position (1 wife, 4 kids – but no dog!!).

I had to smile at your profile – good to see ‘computer programming’ is still in there (as a bit of fun or a career?)…. some of the favourite words summed you up pretty well from what I remember – but only in that I had to look half of them up (you always were a smartarse!!).

There’s more and while it’s not personal especially I’ve no wish to post it without Stu’s OK; what’s above is enough to get the gist.

Well Stu, I hope you’re reading this. I wasn’t ignoring you. The truth is I joined FRU then didn’t bother for a long time. I did not see your message for over 6 months. Not until March 2006. I immediately responded at that time with what follows.This is mostly complete, only some drivel removed.

Stu!!!

First things first. I forgot I’d even joined this thing. My full membership had lapsed and the e-mail address I registered with I only just accessed for the first time since last July!

So, no, I wasn’t avoiding or ignoring you, I wouldn’t. I don’t think you have contacted me before, believe me, I would have remembered! I have to say my heart skipped a beat or two (not surprising for a man in my condition) when I saw a message from you but the tone and content were a great relief. It’s amazing what a few years and a few trips round the block will do for your outlook on life. I have always regretted the way thinks went; it’s possibly the only regret of my life that I could have made come out differently. Like you I can’t even remember what the hell went on. It all seems like it happened to someone else now.
…
We did have a lot of laughs and the friendship is sorely missed. I really believe that no friendship can ever be so strong as those forged during school days. We lived in each other’s pockets for what seemed like years since Halton ITeC.. remember that?… I still tell my wife and anyone else who will listen about the trips across the road to the chippy where we’d ask for “A bag of chips and a can of coke” and the Chinese woman would say “you want flidge?” and we’d reply “No, just the can of coke!”. I’m grinning right now recalling that one…

…How is your Mum? and John? and Lol? I always had a great respect for your Mum and John, she was educated and smart and I always remember John being very tolerant, helpful and supportive. I sincerely hope they are all well and happy.
…
I get out of the office occasionally, how about I drop you a message next time I’m going to be up your way and perhaps we can grab some lunch somewhere (chip shop in widnes?? just kidding!) Enjoy that mid-life crisis!, hope to hear from you again soon.

All the best mate, great to hear you’re well.
Les

Since sending this reply I have more avidly monitored FRU in the hope of a reply but judging by his profile, Stuart didn’t use it either for a long time!

So, dear reader (I know from the stats that a plurality of readers is rare on this blog…) heart warming recollection, regret and nostalgia over with, I’m off to try and make a new friend of one of my oldest.

Wish me luck!

Recently though, I read a few blogs about the app store for iPhone and iPod touch. This caught my attention because Apple have essentially gathered all users of this platform in one place which though criticized by many has the benefit for the developer of virtually eliminating marketing costs and at the same time with the iPhone they have created a platform so friendly and so powerful that it’s users want all their old simple apps games and utils on it. Since I’m in the business of writing software this is a new opportunity to be investigated at least.

So I obtain a 3G 16g iPhone. I was hooked in minutes. Setup of work and personal mail accounts, sync with exchange, wifi connections you name it, it works and with zero frustration. The software tools only work on a mac of course so I now have a mac mini and while the objective c language is a challenge for me, all else is easy and… dare I say it… I think I am starting to enjoy the environment.

I have had every slide out keyboard, stylus operated windows mobile or nokia phone of note and this beauty makes them all look like early prototypes of what a phone come PDA come laptop should be. What’s more, this phone is making a mac user and developer out of someone who thinks bill gates should be made king of the world. That is remarkable. The iPhone has filled me with an excitement and desire for programming that I haven’t felt since I school days spent programming 6502 assembler.

Don’t believe the reviews that say typing is difficult, it’s not, it’s the fastest editor on any small device, period. Don’t be fooled by reviews of other phones saying they are potential iPhone killers, they are not. This is, quite simply the best piece of technology I have ever used. It just works. It really does live up to Apple’s hype. Get one now and write space invaders for it, there is still a Market for all the retro stuff that we all know how to write these days but is saturated on other platforms.

If you can’t afford one, sell your granny to get one. If you have a phone, you need an iPhone. By the way, I typed this post on my iPhone and with the exception of a few erroneous conjunctions that had to be edited, what you see is what I typed and what’s more, I typed it using one hand, two fingers and a thumb, almost as quickly as I can type accurately on any keyboard. It is truly impressive.