Failing to declare will result in a fine and possible execution!
My dearest readers, it is with great regret that I find myself writing the last blog post for what may be a very long time. That’s right, I’ve sinned and there’s a distinct possibility that I may be arrested and carted off to the nearest prison.
What have I done?
Why, I failed to adequately sort my recyclable garbage from my general household waste of course. Yep, and my refuse collector, technicians, or 
should that be Gestapo Officers? Anyway, they refused to take away the contents of my beautiful wheelie bins because I failed to declare, or, more specifically, failed to empty the contents of my black bin bags into them which I now know is tantamount to refusing to declare at border control. After all, I may well be trying to conceal spent plutonium rods in my black sacks.
So, I was tagged! that’s right, for my crime, my wheelie bins were orphaned, abandoned on the side of the road and slapped with two cardboard tags, each sporting angry black gashes in the relevant check box, informing my dumb ass what exactly I had to done to displease the garbage gods; my rubbish contained black refuse sacks!
I remember, as a child, spending some time with my aunty and cousins on their farm just a few miles outside a small village in the south of Italy. During that time I learned, not unlike something reminiscent of Ann Frank’s diary, that it paid to grease the palm of local authority from time with the odd chicken or lamb. Such blatant bribery wasn’t uncommon back then and most likely isn’t still now but little did I know that I may have to resort to the same practice just to get my bins emptied on a weekly basis, because the terror of being left with the fermenting fruits of my gluttonous existence to fester for an extra week is simply unbearable!
Okay, so maybe I’m trivialising a very serious issue (am I?) but come on, Draconian truck warriors, don’t you think you should lighten up just a tad? After all, you’d already branded those poor wheelie bins with your black mark. Surely it would have been much more community spirited if you’d left your mark , you know, a bit like Zorro, as a warning for next time but at least lifted the contents this time. No? Is it really going to take the odd sacrificial chicken every now and then?
I guess things could be worse, I could be a ‘subject’ of Darlington Borough Council whom have proudly decreed that they’ll slap a fine on any impudent who might put his or her rubbish out on the wrong day of the week or ‘too early’. That’s right, rubbish must be put out a maximum of 2 hours before collection on the day of collection. After all, nobody wants to see those ghastly wheelie bins for a few minutes longer than they need to, do they?
I guess those sheriffs are still smarting from the fact that, earlier this year, the government banned local councils from imposing fines, sometimes in excess of £1,000, on residents who unwittingly placed the wrong type of garbage in the wrong receptacle. The penalties were scrapped when it was found that they exceeded those imposed for shoplifting and other similar crimes. Blimey, there’s me thinking that local authorities wanted to be seen as ‘supportive’ and ‘encouraging’ of people to recycle correctly, I didn’t realise we paid them over a thousand pounds a year in council tax to bully us.
Welcome to the ‘binquisition’.
This new Orwellian state goes hand in hand with the ever growing number of CCTV on many street corners, or the prolific use of mobile devices. Now, it doesn’t matter where you are, there’s a distinct possibly that you’re being watched, either by a local authority sponsored eye in the sky, the lens of a stranger or even the back boring eyes of your neighbour as they consider that lid on your bin which is conspicuously pointing skywards, indicating, shock of all horrors, that you you’ve ‘overfilled’! That’s right, don’t even bother casually leaning against it in an effort to push the contents in, you know you’ve already tried to do that, and it’s too late anyway, your friendly neighbourhood ‘collaborator’ is already dialling the local authorities to report you before you even have a chance to wash your hands.
We all know the importance of recycling. God knows we’ve had it brain washed into us for years. And, there’s no doubt that, but for the few who have made it their life’s ambition to educate the rest of us ‘green ignoramuses’, we’d all now be wallowing in landfill. By the few, I’m also referring to those greens (yes you know who you are) who work tirelessly for the green cause by regularly visiting their neighbours and educating them on the importance of joining the green alliance and subtly pointing out to them that residence will be met with austere measures.
Sorry. The story just sounds so familiar and I keep veering towards it.
The reality is that our landfills are, well, full, the ozone layer is still, well, thin, although we don’t hear that much about it these days, I guess it has gone a bit out of fashion since there’s only so long you can bang on about ‘a hole’. Regardless, studies do show that 60% to 75% of garbage in landfills can be recycled. That means that if everybody recycled, we’d have 60% to 75% less garbage in them craters which means we’d need that much less land for garbage disposal. And when considered from that perspective most people will feel inclined to do something about it. But there are ways and ‘ways’ of getting people to join your cause. I’m not sure giving the refuse Gestapo unilateral powers not to do their job whilst imposing additional fines on bonifide tax payers is it.
But you can be the judge of that.
Happy recycling!
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Letting go; are you strong enough?
So, it’s 02:50 in the morning and here I am writing this.
Why is it you may ask that I’m up way beyond the witching hour? Well, worrying myself silly of course, you know, in the same way most parents would upon discovering that one of their offspring has decided to backpack around Europe or maybe even the world. 
They say that the power of the bond between parent and child is unique, unbreakable and even supernatural. Yes, we’ve all heard the stories of mothers lifting cars to free trapped children, brave burning buildings and even swarms of bees. This invisible tie is witnessed daily, tirelessly, around the world, parents, like birds to a nest, tend, fret, and provide for their chicks. From the moment their babies are born through to the moment when, well forever. That’s right, we may grow up but that ‘bond’ that ‘love’ endures regardless. Okay, well, it does with most healthy and loving relationships, and yes, there is the exception of the odd dysfunctional family, and even then that bond is frequently wounded but not truly dead. To some, the idea of proclaiming the death, albeit theoretically, of one’s children or parents, seems inconceivable yet a sad occurrence throughout the world.
So, who or what is responsible for this supernatural bond?
One of the most popular theories is Bowbly, John Bowbly to be precise, who believed that Children form an attachment or a bond to parents because it enhances their chances for survival, from an evolutionary standpoint. We’re not aware of this on a conscious level. Rather, our species is “wired” to form such attachments because our prehistoric ancestors did and it enhanced their survival. Bowlby argued that infants and parents are innately attuned to each other. Infants display what he called “signalling behaviours” such as smiling, laughing, and clinging to their caregivers. Signalling behaviours attract the caregiver’s attention and bring them into close contact, and thus enhance the infant’s chances for survival. In turn, adults innately respond to an infant’s signalling behaviours.
So, can you see this in you? Do you find yourself naturally drawn to babies? According to Bowlby this is a survival mechanism that’s innate and enables our species to proliferate, much like a man’s compulsion to spread, well, his seed.
Whether or not they adopt this ethological perspective, most psychologists will agree that there is a bond between parents and infants. Psychologist, Mary Ainsworth elaborated Bowlby’s ideas. She argued that all children develop an attachment to their parents, even children who are abused. While children of different parenting styles and environments all develop a bond to their parents, they differ in the security of attachment. Security refers to children’s confidence in their caregiver, the belief that the caregiver will be available to meet their needs. Ainsworth’s research shows that infants tend to develop secure attachments when their caregivers are compassionate, consistent, and warm.
So, bearing in mind the above, you can imagine how, after more than a decade of ‘caregiving’ some parents are somewhat miffed if not horrified the day they wake up and learn, often in a somewhat undiluted, indelicate way (generally first manifested during their baby’s first sign of puberty) that they have become redundant, not quite superfluous to requirements as they can still be useful for putting food on the table, providing the proverbial roof and , of course, that ubiquitous taxi service.
It’s often quite a traumatic ordeal for most parents who are compelled to witness the metamorphosis of their bundle of joy into a hormone raging creature, often baring no resemblance to their offspring. But there’s worse…
Sometimes, as a parent, you’re barely able to digest the first notice that you’re being laid off and you’re served the second; your child, your baby that you’ve been protecting from all sorts of conceivable hardships has now decided that they want to take their security into their own hands and venture into the big bad world, be that a back packing trip around Europe or just the one to university.
My unofficially adopted niece and I were off to spend some quality time at the movies the other day and were cheerfully discussing a variety of subjects, including her education, when she casually confirmed to me (without any persuasion) that she wanted to go to University. I’m telling you, it was all I could do not to crash the car. It’s one thing us talking about University when it’s a far distant choice rather than a clear and present danger. “University!? Are you crazy?! But you’ve always been here! You’ve always been where we can keep an eye on you, often, even annoyingly warbling at the top of your voice to your favourite music. What the hell is the house going to be like without you in it? You can’t go! I forbid it! I forbid it!” Okay, so that’s what was going through my head. In the real world, I casually and swiftly changed the conversation, opting instead for her annoying obsession with the movie we were going to see, that subject being far more agreeable to me, right now.
But the reality is that, like any parent, no matter how hard I try, I can’t hold back the sands of time, they, like invincible centurions, continue to march forth no matter my preference, that’s just life.
Perhaps, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it! And I don’t.
If we could wrap our loved ones in cotton wool well, I’d probably be the first in line but we can’t. It is, after all, part of their development, another lesson in life curriculum of survival, practical and theoretical tests of physical and mental strength that will equip them to go on and face the perils and the pleasures of their existence on this earth.
Um yes, but is still doesn’t mean I have to like it.
So why am I here at 03:00am? Well, because another nearest and dearest of mine (my best friend, one of those people who, beyond my family, I feel the closest to), the same one who a few weeks ago terrorized me with the announcement that he was leaving the UK to dive (scuba gear free) in the waters off some Thai island vanished from my radar just days before his return to the UK, which is unlike him. This was compounded by the fact that his previous message promised to be in touch shortly with itinerary details but instead he went dark. So, I’ve been spending the past 24 hours imagining all sorts of scenarios that would make Hollywood script writers envious. So what’s 24 hours? Well, a lot for a neurotic, overprotective person like me (okay, easy on the neurotic, it’s just a figure of speech), who makes it his business to know, understand and predict every nuance of his best friend so that when things are off, well, I’m aware of it and, who knows, might actually be able to help.
So you can imagine when I receive one communication saying that he’d been involved in some kind of altercation but was ‘fine now’ then …click burr…… just static.
Cue an agonizing 24 hours during which text and phone calls went unanswered. Planes took off and landed and still no communication. So then I talk to his family who have no idea when he’s due back either. So then I try to communicate with his girlfriend (who’s travelling with him) but I don’t have her number. At this stage, I’m ready for a meltdown. I know something is wrong but what exactly was being tauntingly exaggerated by my imagination (in the absence of any communication) was unknown.
I must have called 20 times. I must have text another 8. Pyscho? Perhaps. But then that’s love isn’t it? No matter what, we’ll do everything we can to protect the ones we care about. Whatever it takes.
So it was 2.00, I’m wide awake and still cuddling my phone when, finally, a message comes in informing me that he’s actually at the airport but that he’d been ill and was actually at the hospital, being treated by a doctor! What the hell? So, I may not have received an official memo but our ‘bond’ told me that something was amiss. Of course, there may only be a few more hours until Sunday and my anxiety levels may have shrunk slightly but I know I won’t be able to rest until he’s safely home.
The bonds we forge with the ones we love are a strong, unshakable and they exist not by choice but by compulsion. We can’t switch them on or off, they’re just there, permanently wired in our psyche, like it or not. There’s no easy remedy to deal with change, be it a flying of the nest or a dangerous dive at a far corner of the world. But there are ways that we all can contribute to treat the anxiety in an attempt to suppress the symptoms.
How?
Well, if you’re lucky enough to be loved by somebody try to understand that whilst for you it is an adventure, it’s life, for the person who loves you, they’ll most likely be suffering from separation anxiety in mild or in severe form. Take a few moments to consider this and the following easy tips to assist them with dealing with their predicament!
Provide a detailed itinerary (especially when they’ve asked you for one). Where are you going? If travelling, what times are you expected to be where and how are you travelling? Know that they’re not necessarily trying to track you or meddle in your affairs, knowing where gives them some kind of control over the situation (although they really have none but try indulging them)
Communicate as often and as frequently as you can without it defeating the whole purpose of your trip (that is to get away). Knowing you’re doing well when out of their sight is reassuring. E.g. imagine back to when you were a little baby playing in a paddling pool. Chances are, your parent didn’t take their eyes off you for fear that you might drown. Right now, even if you’re decades older, that same anxiety still remains but for other reasons. Trust me on this.
Have a backup plan. Hey, the whole part of this exercise is that you experience life. However, one of the fundamental lessons you’ll learn at an early age is that if things can go wrong, they generally will. Transportation may fail as well communication devices. If you’re planning on travelling with somebody (this is often reassuring as there’s safety in numbers), make sure you provide their contact details also. That way , if communication breaks down with you, the frantic person at home has an auxiliary method of making contact with you as you will with them.
Travel with considerate people. The people who care about you (e.g. girlfriend or any travel partner) who cares about you and your wellbeing will also become acquainted with the things that are important to you so, in case of emergency, will actually offer to inform those back home of the state of play.
I could go on but I think you get my point; whether you’ve left home for university, for a holiday or a business trip, whatever the situation, consider the fact that what may be a few seconds, maybe even a minute, to you or your travel partner is potentially hours of worry for that person back home.
When you love someone, child, other family member, partner or best friend, you want them to get the best out of life, you’d like their perpetual happiness and, if you’re a parent, this becomes your lifelong ambition. It isn’t something you can switch on or off with age; it simply is.
So, the next time you leave home, whatever your journey, spare a few seconds for those back home who may have been brave enough to let you out of their sight but not your wellbeing.
“Take care of yourself and each other.”
Are you ready for the cloud revolution?
I consider myself truly told off. Last month, I missed two Sunday blog posts in a row and I received more direct mail during that period than I have the whole time I’ve been writing blogs, all demanding why I hadn’t kept to my Sunday morning posts!
I did offer my excuses that things had been particularly busy of late with two major events, one of which is a company rebrand gala scheduled to
take place next month, as well as a murder mystery which took place last week (I don’t think the balloons have even fully deflated yet!). However, I don’t think the Sunday regulars were impressed with my explanations.
And I don’t blame them, really. I’m just humbled by the fact that these regulars actually took the time to notice I was gone. Thanks!
That said, acquiring an established company with an established brand and improving on this is no mean feat, especially, when you’re embarking on a complete overhaul not only of the business’s processes (how we provide service to our customers) but also of the model (how we do business). A subject that we, as a company, are all too familiar with since it’s what we actually do; our consultancy service goes into organisations that are looking to implement or upgrade their business systems but we don’t just sell them software, we actually conduct in depth business analysis and scoping to ensure we have fully understood how the company works so that we may better recommend methodologies (now there’s a truly corporate word) that improve business processes, enabling them to work more efficiently. We then put our business software at the heart of those methodologies, saving them time, streamlining their operations, providing full visibility over all areas of the business and (ultimately) saving them a lot of money.
So, the irony wasn’t missed when we had to turn the spotlight of this expertise on ourselves to understand what has and has not worked over the past two decades not only to ensure that we work better as a company but also to ensure that our existing customers and future prospects receive the best possible service from us.
Martin Luther King famously said, “I have a dream”. And so did I. It began over 2 years ago when I first subscribed to the belief that the future of business was in the cloud. I recommended this to the board of my employers and yet, whilst I commanded a senior role as well as a place on the board, ultimately, the business was not mine. Alas, the board of directors did not share the same passion of my beliefs; the adoption of cloud based technology was not fully embraced and thus allowed to dissipate.
Fast forward two years to January 2012 and my acquisition of the company for whom I had worked for the best part of 13 years. The time had finally come for me to implement my business strategy; streamline the business and reduce overheads by selling up the office in Cambridge and shedding a raft of costs, including a £10,000+ (the equivalent of half of a junior’s salary) rate bill to Cambridgeshire County Council. To me, it was nonsensical of the business to pay out that kind of money just for the luxury (for want of a better expression) of having offices in the heart of Cambridge, the reaching of which (as many commuters will sympathise) proved to be a stressful, time consuming daily chore, and a non-productive waste of my personal life. It grated me over the years that, despite the fact that we rarely entertained clients our offices (as we normally visit them on site) we retained such an expensive commodity. I vowed to change this although it was a risky strategy, to do so would mean selling up our offices, our physical location, our own servers, our own network, our desktop telephones, lighting and heating and everything else that tangibly ‘makes’ a business and relocate this elsewhere. A solution had to be found since a rare offer was made for our office and naturally could not be passed up. The clock was set. We had one month to relocate the business, the question was where?
Telecommunications
Today, thanks to email, it is feasible that the heart of everyday business will continue to beat even if your remove those veins otherwise known as telephone lines. However, when you have over a hundred customers who have contracted with you to receive helpdesk services for assistance when using the products that you have implemented, retaining telecommunications was critical to our business. So we started researching VOIP (Voice Over IP or internet) solutions. We knew the technology existed because SKYPE had been successfully refining it for many years now. Surely, there was a business equivalent, maybe even SKYPE itself. We looked into this but SKYPE quality (to external lines) wasn’t so refined and it was also incapable of providing a flexible telephone exchange system (so that we could patch calls through to each other).
There was only one other solution, to retain our servers, locate them somewhere and attach to these a ‘box’ with soft phone option; effectively, a computer screen representation of a desk phone. Calls would be routed to the box, through our server, over the internet to our laptops. There, via headsets, we would be able to answer calls. This was a major technological leap forward as it meant that consultants would be able to answer calls wherever their location. This meant that our business would no longer affected by acts of nature, such as bad weather (where technicians couldn’t get to the office to physically man the helpline). Although, it did mean that we’d need to retain a server, locate this somewhere and plumb it into a decent internet connection. But where? Rent a location? My shed? Sounds ludicrous now but we did think about it and we even discussed the logistical nightmare of having BT run broadband lines to the shed, along with power supply, etcetera but we needn’t had bothered because we were only a few days into the trial of the new ‘soft phones’ when we came to realise that it was possibly this worse telecommunications disaster in the history of the company. The quality of some of the calls was dire and when it wasn’t dire, it was dead; the line kept dropping! Cue my first customer service nightmare. I’d set out to provide a better service to our customers and instead I’d made it worse. The first stage of my dream was rapidly becoming the company’s nightmare. We needed a solution, and fast.
Infrastructure
At the heart of any business is its IT infrastructure, that is the server or servers upon which all business software is loaded. E.g. ERP (Enterprise Resource Planning) software that enables businesses to manage stock, customer and supplier accounts, raise quotes, delivery notes, invoices and credit notes, as well as run management reports detailing how well (or badly) the business is doing. Servers are also required for email coming into the building. The ISP (Internet Service Provider) forwards email to the server and the server (normally via a product known as Microsoft Exchange) forwards the email to the relevant employee’s computer through a designated email address. Then there’s also file storage. Many employees save files to the main server so that they may be accessed by other employees (or they just email them backwards and forward (creating a version control hazard).
We needed servers to manage all of the above and more. Worse still, when I acquired the company, it had already suffered several years (in technological terms) of underinvestment. Basically, the servers would need to be replaced and I was being quoted, by my technical boffins, hardware requirements that wouldn’t leave much change from £5,000. That’s right, for ‘decent’ servers that were future proof (which generally means 3 to 4 years in the IT world). This coupled with other network configurations and peripherals were nudging the total bill closer to £10,000. Add to that the fact that I still needed somewhere to house these things and, whichever place I chose, it’d need a decent power supply, internet connection, and it would also need to be ‘maintained’ by a member of our technical team. It was challenge number 2 of the move and we just had days to go. I had to make a decision, and quickly.
It was at this stage that I was starting to wonder if I had bitten off more than I could chew, acquiring the company, moving out of the offices, attempting to make radical changes to our infrastructure and generally changing institutionally ingrained practices of years in just days.
However, the more the challenge, the more my resolve to prevail without a significant risk to the business, although I knew I was already on shaky ground there, the issue of the phone system still hadn’t been resolved.
And that’s when it occurred to me. I wasn’t fully engaged in the process. I had this pipe dream about a cloud enabled company but even I, after the acquisition, wasn’t fully committed to the process. It appeared that I liked ‘the idea’ of the cloud but I was still considering maintaining our own servers and seeking new premises. No, this wasn’t the dream, and it was then that I resolved it should be all or nothing, and that’s’ when the decision was made to migrate the whole business to the cloud.
So, what is ‘the cloud’?
The conventional business works on the basic premise of an office, a server/s (for email, files and business software), a network infrastructure (to connect to the server) and client machines (PCs or Laptops) that act as interfaces to the server/s, and, of course, a phone system. ‘The cloud’ provides all this but as a service, not unlike everyday utilities, such as power and water. Think of the cloud as a multi-storey apartment complex. Firstly, you rent an empty apartment and then you add utilities, such as lighting, heating, cable television. You might even add housekeeping, periodical refurbishments and so on.
And so we became a cloud enabled company
We didn’t purchase or lease new premises. Why commute when, by the power of the cloud, we can all work from the comfort of our homes or indeed from anywhere in the world via a laptop or mobile device with internet connection. There’s no more commuting to the centre of Cambridge, instead I’m using those saved hours productively either on my cross trainer or working.
I saved myself the £10,000 and reinvested it
We didn’t spend a penny on new servers and nor did we shell out hundreds on new software (admittedly, we had most of that anyway). We rented a server cloud service and on that we loaded our own ERP software, we copied over our data and, within hours, our finance and helpdesk system was up and running once more. Now, with our wireless laptops or device, we can log in from anywhere in the house or in the world to run our business.
No servers needed to manage our email
To our cloud service, we added email exchange and connected this to Microsoft Outlook on our laptops but, since the email service is in the cloud, we can log on from any web browser or device with internet access from anywhere in the world. Our email is always there, always backed up and available to us.
Our documents have gone digital and are much easier to store and find
We added document storage to our cloud service. Scanned our entire collection of lever arch folders, well we didn’t waste time doing that, we contracted a company to do it for us at minimal cost. Now, all of our documents are digitally stored and backed up in the safety of the cloud. Now, any document I need is just one click away and, again, available from any web browser or mobile device. I can download and share documents in seconds. Indeed, my accountant now doesn’t even have to leave his office to view ‘the books’, he just logs in from the comfort of his own home or the office (after commuting there).
I also use a personal cloud based subscription service to back up my personal folders and my entire music and photo collection. Gigabytes worth of data safely backed up to the cloud. And it is safe because they used ‘redundant’ server technology to copy the images of the server’s contents which means if one fails, it’s simply resurrected elsewhere.
The blood that moves the body
So what about the all-important telephone system? Easy, we just sourced a company specialising in ‘managed’ VOIP technology which means their
whole infrastructure is based on telephony services; they’re able to monitor the quality of all of our calls and, where necessary, take action. All calls are now routed through the cloud and automatically to our laptops or mobile phones. Moreover, with all the money we saved in changing our business practice and dispensing with our own infrastructure, I decided to splash out on some decent Bluetooth headsets which means we no longer have to sit at our laptops to take calls, we’re free to pace (much to my delight) around the room during lengthy telephone calls, and guess what, the quality is excellent.
So that’s my story. As you can see, it’s been quite a journey and will give you a flavour as to why I may have missed a few Sunday posts and why I smile each time I notice somebody else finally joining the cloud revolution.
It just goes to show that dreams can indeed come true. When I originally had the idea of a cloud enabled company, I never thought it would be my own yet, by default, two years ago, I had the idea to shave thousands of pounds off the overheads of my own company and avoided thousands more on potential setup fees.
Is fate something that we make? You decide.
If you or somebody you know would like to know more about how cloud technology can help them or their business, visit www.cga.co.uk/getintothecloud.
Casa Bella’s wigs, laughter, trophies and murder
And so here we are, 2 days later (sounds like a film title doesn’t it).
The balloons have been deflated, the posters taken down, the jewels stolen and Casa Bella’s dining room returned to its usual state in anticipation of tomorrow’s formal business meeting. Casa Bella’s first Murder Mystery is over so what was it like?
When somebody asks me that question my first answer is BIG! Big anticipation, big fun, big outfits, big wigs, big laughs and big boobs! Oh, and some murder. Yes, this event, more than its predecessors, had all of the perfect ingredients for a fantastic evening and has got to be right up there with one of the best ever, but it wasn’t without its challenges.
Casa Bella’s Murder Mystery has been months in the planning, and by months, I don’t just mean the usual 3 months to plan the evening, prepare guest packs, plan the theme, source the props and design a menu but it’d already been postponed by an additional 2 months to make way for Casa Bella’s Devil’s Dinner Party. So you can imagine my horror when on the Tuesday before the Saturday event the main character (and victim for the evening) called to tell me that he could not attend as he had other plans hundreds of miles across the world and they clashed.
Now, normally, I’d just ‘adapt and overcome’ however, on this occasion, it wasn’t that easy because I couldn’t see an easy way of finding somebody in days who was willing to play the compulsory character and, um, die! At first, my lovely niece came up with the concept of dressing as a man. I actually considered the suggestion for a while but when I thought about it, I just couldn’t. The character is based on Pamela Anderson’s ex, rocker hubby Tommy Lee. Now, if anybody has seen that man, you’ll know that a pretty 17 year old girl with a drawn on moustache, and a wig (that looked like a prop from the Psycho film set) simply wasn’t going to cut the mustard. No, there was only one thing for it; I’d have to cancel the event.
It was Wednesday and I was just trying to work out how I was going to deliver the news to the guests, many of which, I knew were really looking forward to it. But then my sister and I came up with a somewhat radical idea. Why not hire an actor? Okay, so maybe that would have been a tad OTT but we had the next best thing. I’d already rehired one of the butlers from Casa Bella’s Devil’s Dinner party whom we all liked very much, and I knew Lee was the kind of guy who would turn his hand to most things if he could, so I made contact, gave him a the brief and warned him that he’d have to fly a bit by the seat of his pants and, well, follow my lead as we’d have to pretty much make some of it up as we went along. Lee’s answer, ‘be happy to help if he could’. We were back in business!
So, I deleted the guest message that I’d already started to draft and instead turned my fingers to a full evening’s brief for the man who was not only going to be our butler for the evening but was also going to mingle as a dinner companion, a character and a victim!
And so, disaster averted, the show really went on. Saturday came and although still somewhat disappointed that my best friend was unable to
make the event, I donned my costume (third time lucky, the first two did not fit!) and transformed myself into JonVolta who was clearly modelled on the famous John Travolta although, with wig, I ended up looking more like Elvis (in his worse and plumpier years).
Some of the room decorations didn’t quite go to plan. E.g. the fact that I wanted to line up popcorn bags along the windows (with lights in them) for that ‘screen’ feel but the miserable gits at Cineworld told me that they wouldn’t give nor sell the empty bags to me as they were part ‘of stock’. They did, however, very kindly give me permission to buy the bags for £3 something each as long as they were filled with popcorn! Needless to say, I politely declined; if I wanted to surround myself with bags of stale popcorn, I would have visited them sooner. It was too late to buy the bags I wanted online so we ended up instead with a mad dash to the local store for bags of another well known brand instead. Also, the self-illuminating balloons I bought along with a canister of helium decided not to play ball either; the balloons kept on descending back to earth too soon! Online reviews confirmed this was a common defect so, in the end, I had to leave inflating the balloons to the last possible moment, and they just about made it to dinner before kamikazeing themselves onto the dining table and surrounding area.
So, 19:30 arrived as did all of our guests, wearing some hilarious costumes and some wonderful smiles. None knew what to expect from a murder mystery but they all dove into the spirit of the evening, and whilst all of the Casa Bella events have been fun, I don’t think any have been as hilarious, especially when I announced the SKITS.
The skits were a diversion from the main theme of the evening (the murder). Guests were grouped and given clues (or a premise) upon which to base their idea for a SKIT to last no longer than 2 minutes. Much to my delight, everybody jumped into the spirit of things, and if you want to see a smidgen of what I’m talking about, check out some segments (and the laughter) on Casa Bella’s YouTube channel and click on the ‘Sausage Trailer.
MATTHEW AINSLIE was on top form as the pirate, Capn’ Jack, AKA the character Donnie Jepp. Not only did his costume look excellent but Matt played the character brilliantly, both in the SKIT and overall and it’s probably why he went on to win the trophy for BEST COSTUME. Well done, Matt! At last, well deserved recognition for all your hard work. Matt was also the only guest to correctly guess who murdered poor Tommy Pea. ‘.
The star of the evening though had to be our butler, LEE DIDDI, who replaced Tom Payne in the role of arrogant rocker, Tommy Pea. Lee looked every part the manly superstar but also go into touch with his feminine side when he played a camp reader on a visit to the local library in search of ‘feminine’ books. Lee won himself and the rest of his group, ANNA PRATT AND COLIN DARRINGTON, the coveted trophy for BEST SKIT. Well done! And, of course, when he wasn’t’ doing that, he also adopted the role of ghost for the evening for it was TOMMY PEA’S character who was murdered. Lee had the dining room in f
its of laughter when he returned at the appropriate time smeared in white make up, wearing a T shirt stating ‘I’ve just been murdered at Casa Bella and all I got was this lousy T shirt’ and holding up a sign informing everybody that they had murdered him. Lee then proceeded to spend what was left of the evening as a ‘mute ghost’. Quite handy really, considering that, since his arrival, did not abandon his primary duty which was to assist with serving my sister’s delicious food as well as ensuring that we were very well taken care of and watered for the evening. Hats off to you, Lee, you really earned your money and maybe even a place on our white list. 
So, all’s well that ends well. Casa Bella successfully managed its latest event despite some challenges, and I, for
one, am delighted with the result. I embarked on the murder mystery concept with some trepidation for I knew that many of the assembled guests had not attended one before which meant that the outcome but truly unknown. However, they stayed true to their briefs which were to forget about acting and focus only delivering clues and, primarily, on having a good time. They did not disappoint, joining in on the spirit of the evening and hilariously ‘shining’ in their respective characters.
So my wish came true and hopefully so will those made by our guests on the evening, thanks to Casa Bella’s wishing tree. I wanted something a bit quirky to adorn the table this time, that’s why I opted for a variation of the traditional wedding tree and instead affectionately dubbed ours, ‘the wishing’ tree, the branches of which were bejewelled with miniature jars of angel dust, each colour representing a different wish for the girls as they plucked it from the tree. The wish is then renewed each time the angel (glitter) is applied to their body. For the men, there were Italian bracelets symbolising the same, each time they are worn.
If I’m totally honest, based on some of the challenges of organising this event, I wasn’t in a hurry to host another Casa Bella experience any time soon because I had lost the belief that the energy to plan, the drive to innovate and the will to overcome more setbacks outweighs the rewards but all friends on Saturday night (old and new, because there were a couple of new ones) reminded me exactly why I do make the effort; it’s all for those important people that orbit my world. Each and every one of them brings me something new, be it a kind word to remind me I am loved, a comforting shoulder when I’m not at my best, a belly shaking laugh when it’s most needed or even a life lesson or two when I least expect it, these people make my life what it is. To have the opportunity to share my existence on this earth with them, to create memories, is to be blessed and something that should be appreciated as often as possible.
Right now, I don’t know if and when the next Casa Bella event will take place but I comfort myself with the fact that those who matter have already received and accepted their invite to the next major event of 2012 due to take place in June; the rebranding of my company, CGA Enterprise Solutions. The gala evening will be worthy of a Casa Bella experience and will mark a major milestone in my life, but the most beautiful part is that those people who orbit my world will be there to make the memory with me and, in the final analysis that’s all that matters.
Are you a life settler?
I’ve just been reading about how Alistair Campbell often suffers from severe bouts of self-doubt. Eh? What do you mean you don’t know who he is? Alistair Campbell used to be Tony Blair’s Press Secretary before he resigned for ‘personal reasons’. Eh? What do you mean you don’t know who Tony Blair is? Oh no, that’s a whole new blog. 
For those who may not be ‘in the know’, in his day, Alistair Campbell had a reputation for being a bit of a Rottweiler. Indeed, there wasn’t much that ex PM, Tony Blair, couldn’t ‘spin’ his way out of thanks to Alistair Campbell; a confident , resilient and somewhat ferocious Press Secretary, yet here I am, many years after his stint at number 10 reading about his breakdowns and his recurring bouts of ‘self-doubt’.
The interesting thing about the article is Alistair’s belief that ‘self-doubt’ is not in any way a negative thing but, quite conversely, can be a very good source of strength and creativity.
What do you think?
Well, I would have to agree with him. Many people who know me (especially present and previous work colleagues) have described me as somewhat of a mauler, and no I’m not talking about leg of turkey but more of people. Yes, not unlike Mr Campbell, I don’t suffer fools very easily and likewise can exude confidence and decisiveness in most of my endeavours, all excluding eating out of course, where I also have a reputation for lengthy procrastination, much to the irritation my ravenous fellow diners who, ironically, also know better than to ‘tell me’ what I should eat. (What can I say, I’m complicated).
I’ve also spent many years working as a senior executive yet it’s only now, as head of a major software company, that my own self-doubts have surfaced. Not that I believe myself incapable of performing my duties effectively but that someday I might just drop the ball, and the very set of skills that have enabled me to assume the burden of steering the company to onward prosperity, safeguarding its impeccable reputation and securing the jobs of my staff, might fail me and that I might in some way be unveiled as some kind of hack, the wizard behind the curtain.
Every day I question what I do, every day I set myself new challenges and every day I wonder if any of it is worthy. Be that running a company, planning a party, writing a book or photographing something, the quest to outdo myself each time I embark on a new challenge is relentless, it’s exhausting and it’s emotionally draining sometimes downright corrosive, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. The fact that nothing is simple, by my own standards, makes it so much more enjoyable in the long run.
My good friend used to always remind me, “Tony, writers write”. This is in response to my writing anguish, be it a play or my first book. Nothing ever seemed good enough. I was often seemingly incapable of progressing with a storyline for fear that it would never be good enough. It was important to me to be original, to be ‘the one’ that made a difference to my readers. That was 2 decades ago nearly and yet those words remain with me today. Right along with “if you can’t stand the heat get out of the kitchen”. For me, if you can’t stand the heat, don’t even bother venturing anywhere near the kitchen, in fact, if you can’t stand to stretch in any way, venture nowhere out of your comfort zone and press on those boundaries then why even bother being alive? Because life’s for living, right? Forging memories and looking back in the final analysis and saying, “I did that,” right?
What are YOU all about? Do you even know? Have a think. What’s your life all about? Are you content with your routine? Are you content with your everyday challenges? Do you seek more or are you a life ‘settler’? In my manuscript, COMING UP FOR AIR, I write about ‘settling’ in a relationship and how damaging this can be but ‘settling’ in life has got to be far worse. Waking up and just plodding along from one week to the next and what for? What’s at the end of next week, next month? What’s waiting for you, for me several years down the line? Where is this journey of life leading us and what’s waiting for us when we get there? There’s an obvious answer to that of course. So is that it, darkness? If the destination is ultimately darkness then surely we should all be making the most of the journey, right? And yes, I know there’s actually a proverb about that. Something like, “life is not about the destination but it’s about the journey”. Never a truer word spoken.
Last week my best friend told me that he’d booked tickets to Thailand. Fair enough. But then he added he wanted to go back packing from island to island (on his own) and that he eventually wanted to attend a diving school whilst there and swim apparatus-free in the ocean. What do you think my immediate reaction to that was? And the answer’s no, not even with me clinging to his leg as he tried to make his way to the door, did he agree to cancel his tickets. Okay, so maybe I didn’t throw myself at his feet but I certainly wasn’t excited by the prospect, given the healthy dose of Aircrash Investigation and the diet of horror movies I’ve watched about backpackers abroad who just disappear never to be found again, not to mention the National Geographic documentaries about man eating sharks in various parts of the world.
But the reality is, it was only last year that I was urging him not to grow old too soon and to enjoy life. Back then, I thought I believed it but maybe 
it was because I knew it was unlikely that he’d opt for anything adventurous as he was in a steady relationship, well ‘under the thumb’ and knocking on the altar of marriage. Now he’s a successful, single (and popular with the girls) executive at a major software house. He works hard, gets paid well and this is the perfect adventure for him. And there’s no doubt in my mind that he’s a bit frightened about embarking on this two week adventure but at the same time he’s really excited (or psyched) about it, and I, of all people, should understand that. Well, I do but it doesn’t mean I have to like it!
It is indeed about the journey and not the destination. It isn’t about waiting to get old; it’s about squeezing all we can out of that zest for life, living it ‘to the max’. And no, that doesn’t necessarily mean throwing yourself down a cliff face or out of an aeroplane but it means ‘reaching’, ‘stretching’ beyond what’s comfortable, what’s ‘safe’, and embracing life’s everyday challenges and being grateful for them because it’s those momentary ‘flutters’ of near misses, the adrenaline that starts pumping just before that presentation, the anguish just before publishing that article and the terror before making that commitment that reminds us of our existence on this earth, that we’re progressing with our lives, doing something that isn’t necessarily comfortable but potentially road changing, deviating us from that long and straight road to one that’s windy and maybe even a bit treacherous but at least we’ll know that when we finally reach our destination, whatever that may be, that we made the most of it, we achieved, and in the final analysis that’s sure what we all strive for, isn’t it?
Like prostitution, self-doubt may be of ill repute but the former is one of the oldest and most successful professions in history. What does that tell you? Everything I turn my attention to, no matter the size of the audience or the people involved, has to motivate me (challenge me) in some way and has to pass the scrutiny of my worse critic; me. Don’t get me wrong, I, like many, thrive on feedback (especially if it’s positive) but I’d be a fake if everything I did was for the benefit of others. It all must start with me. If I want to lose a few pounds, it’s got to be because I want to get back into my jeans and not because of what others might think to my paunch, if I want to dress with a certain flair, it probably because I’m feeling a bit ostentatious and if I want to go backpacking, well it has to be because I hunger for the adventure. The subsequent Facebook ‘likes’ are merely affirmation of what I already knew; I’ve decided to make the most of my life and have, what about you?
What kind of freak are you?
So what it is then, go on, confess… is it bathing in baked beans, sucking on a dummy or collecting belly button hair?
We all have them, some harmful, others harmless, some a predilection, others an obession but vices or habits are generally just part of who we are. I too have my vices, some of which are probably best hidden from the thousands of you that read this blog. Oh okay then, I don’ t have any particularly unusual vices, or do I?
Whilst I may think that my ‘habits’ aren’t anything out of the ordinary, they may well appear somewhat ‘freaky’ to others. I haven’t seen it but the BBC has even made a series about about some of our very unusual habits, proving that all sorts of ‘freakishness’ takes places daily up and down the country. So what kind of freakish habits do you have? (Remember, to the pure all is pure).
I’m finding, that my ‘rituals’ appear to be getting worse as I get older. And today may be a special red letter day for religious reasons but there’s another reason why you should mark your calendars because this author is going to, ‘live on this blog’, reveal one of his own ‘freakish’ rituals.
Are you ready for it?
I ‘prefer’ to work in a clean study. There, I’ve done it. I’ve confessed to everybody. Bet you’re all horrified, aren’t you? What? You aren’t? How about if I add the fact that I believe that I’m much more productive if my desk is polished. Still nothing? How about, I feel I’m unable to work in my study unless it’s been hoovered, polished and the glass on my desk is smudge/ dust free and there’s a nice fragrance in the air (e.g. scented candle). Still not weird enough? How about the fact that when the room is clean, I don’t like being in it unless I’m freshly showered also and that the clothes I’m wearing also smell fresh. Starting to get freakier now, right?
“Everybody is somebody else’s weirdo”.
The thing is, I recognise this trait and don’t exactly shy away from it or try to change it because I like it. It’s my preference, my predilection and if I didn’t sucumbe to it, well, things just wouldn’t ‘feel’ right. So I do, and thus this has now become my ritual, my compulsion, maybe even my obsession but not necessarily my OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder). Apparently, these ritualistic traits are typical of somebody like me, somebody with a tendency to take control of a situation, a leader, a master, a person who who attempts to dictate how everything around them is done, otherwise known as a control freak! Apparently, my compulsions are a bi-product of me trying to ‘control’ my environment.
Whilst there’s ‘some’ truth to that last statement, the above are just quirks of my character which ultimately define me, and I’m not alone. Each and everyone of us has, over time, developed a ritual or rituals of some form or another without evening knowing it. Be that a leg twitch or deriving pleasure from plucking one’s pubic hair. Yes, I did write ‘pubic’ and I did write ‘hair’. It seems that there are people out there who actually get a lot of pleasure from ‘plucking’ their pubic hair. Yep, I can almost see you creasing your face in disgust and perhaps even, self conciously, crossing your legs. Apparently a young, attractive ( because that’s relevant) 20 year old man from Sheffield enjoys nothing more than coming home after a hard day’s work and locking himself away in his ‘plucking room’ and hunting down those pesky hairs. And I dare say there are many more like him. Meanwhile, there’s an 18 year old Essex girl who absolutely can’t be without her dummy. Even when she’s out shopping, she has to lock herself in the changing rooms for a quick suck between credit card swipes. Apparently, it makes her feel really good and she sometimes finds herself jealous of passing babies in prams. Then there’s the woman who absolutely adores stale food with a particular partiality to turned up at the corners ‘crusty on top’ sandwiches, 3 day old orange juice (with a thin layer of dust), and tough as old boots Jaffa Cakes, there’s the man who collected belly button fluff and and I’m not even going to linger on the woman who loves to squeeze spots so much, her dream is to be locked in a room with a group of pubescent teenagers. Now that does sound wrong on many levels!
Whilst revolting (to some), these predilections are relatively harmless because they are simply that; a special liking for something, and whilst it would be psychologically ‘uncomfortable’ not to indulge these urges, it isn’t always distressing. The same cannot be said of those suffering from OCD which by its very definition is an illness, featuring in most everyday conversations with the regularity of a prune eater. It’s right up there with narcissism. For example, regular readers of this blog will known that my article, Living With the Devil, is still one of the most read posts of this blog. I presume this is because the majority of those reading it actually believe that they are either living with or have shown symptoms of narcissism which is also an illness. Whilst relatively rare, Narcissism is corrosive and quite traumatic for anyone who happens to have the misfortune of being in a relationship with a narcissist. Generally speaking, you’re as good to a narcissist as you make them feel (narcissistic supply). Yet, these days, many diagnose narcissism in others, generally exes, as easily as they would a cold. The reality is that in this fast moving, busy, and sometimes stressful life, many are becoming acutely self-absorbed with barely enough time for themselves let alone the interest to consider others. It’s these apathetics (yes, new word) who may well suffer from a variant of narcissism but are not, at least not clinically, narcissists.
Likewise, I may prefer my study to be ‘just so’ before I start work in there but can this be classed as OCD? It’s easy to brand somebody as suffering
from OCD simply because they like their shirts ironed in a certain way. Real OCD is a chronic long term mental illness associated with thoughts and compulsive behaviour. Generally, the ‘obsessive’ thoughts are unwanted or unpleasant and they repeatedly enter the person’s mind causing anxiety whilst the compulsion is repetitive behaviour or a mental act that the person feels compelled to perform to try and avert or undo the effect of the obsession, which inevitably not only locks the sufferer in an endless cycle but can be quite distressing for them. E.g. a person who is afraid of catching diseases may avoid contact with people, public places (which in turn may spawn some form of agoraphobia) for fear that they may ‘catch’ something; they’ll also be ‘obsessed’ with constantly washing themselves. Again, there is a clear distinction between this type of obsession and simply having good hygiene.
That said, OCD (probably for the very reasons highlighted above) is actually one of the most common mental health conditions. It is estimated that up to 3 in 100 adults and up to 5 in 100 children and teenagers have OCD which usually starts in early adult life with men tending to report symptoms earlier than women. The symptoms of OCD can range from mild to severe. For example, some people with OCD will spend about an hour a day engaged in obsessive compulsive thinking and behaviour. For others, the condition can completely take over their life.
The cause of OCD is unknown but there are a number of theories and these range from gene inheritance, where a relative of an OCD sufferer is believed to be four times more likely to develop the illness. Brain abnormalities have also been blamed where serotonin (yep, that old favourite) levels have deviated from the norm. Antidepressants that increase the level of serotonin have been known to successfully treat the symptoms of OCD. Life events have also been cited as possible causes. E.g. the breakup of a marriage, as well as upbringing, e.g. parents who are overprotective.
If you have OCD, seeking help is the most important thing you can do. Left untreated, the symptoms of OCD may not improve. In some cases they will get worse. Without treatment, nearly half of people with OCD still have symptoms 30 years later. OCD can be treated with psychotherapy (known as Cognitive Behavioural Therapy) and medication, such as antidepressants and the outlook is quite good. Some people achieve a complete cure, and even where a cure is not achievable, treatment can equal a reduction in the symptoms equalling a far better quality of life. E.g. not spending the best part of the day thinking about the obsessions and feeding the compulsion.
So what about us freaks? What about you? That’s right, the person reading this. I’m including you because one way or another you’re part of my club, yes, you too are a freak you’re just not aware of it. You’re either suppressing or simply have not yet become aware of your freakish ways because, remember, what may appear freaky to you may not be to somebody else and vice versa. But the reality is that each and every one of us has traits, rituals and routines that are exhibited daily, whether that be absently shaking your leg as you watch TV, twirling your hair with your finger, chewing on a pen, chewing on your nails, having the urge to bite somebody you love, avoiding cracks in the pavement, watching strangers and imagining them in various situations, sucking your thumb, keeping a comfort blanket, flipping the pillow if it gets too warm, eating out of bins (even if you don’t have to), biting your toe nails, collecting belly button fluff, biting your lip, picking ‘things’ you know you shouldn’t, biting your lip, climbing into tight spaces, hoovering naked, wearing only leather, and separating out certain types of food on your plate. I could go on forever but I think you hear me.
The above are just a few of the many traits I discovered during my research, there are some that didn’t make it to this article as they actually made my eyebrows rise and I simply couldn’t be held responsible for inflicting that on you first thing on Easter Sunday. Suffice to say that it really does take ‘all sorts’ and whilst some things may not necessarily ‘float your boat’, they may float somebody else’s. We’re forever celebrating our diversity because these are the very things that define us, as individuals and as a race. And whilst some of our predilections are, to an extent, optional, they are a way of life for others. Spare a thought for them this Easter, oh and the next time you proclaim yourself to be an OCD sufferer!
Happy Easter, and peace to you and yours.
Funny Sunday; facts and pictures
1. Beetles taste like apples, wasps like pine nuts, and worms like fried bacon.
2. What is called a “French kiss” in the English speaking world is known as an “English kiss” in France.
3. “Almost” is the longest word in the English language with all the letters in alphabetical order.
4. In 1386, a pig in France was executed by public hanging for the murder of a child
5. You can’t kill yourself by holding your breath
6. There is a city called Rome on every continent.
7. Horatio Nelson, one of England’s most illustrious admirals was throughout his life, never able to find a cure for his sea-sickness.
8. The elephant is the only mammal that can’t jump!
9. Like fingerprints, everyone’s tongue print is different!
10. The first known transfusion of blood was performed as early as 1667, when Jean-Baptiste, transfused two pints of blood from a sheep to a young man
Random acts of kindness or weirdness?
Picture the scene: you’re walking down the street, minding your own business, and a person with a beaming smile accosts you, hands you a bottle of water and says to have a drink on them.
What’s your reaction? Gratitude or suspicion?
Well, if it was suspicion then you wouldn’t be alone, especially here in the UK where our aloofness has been known to breed abdject cynicism. And yes, I’d be one of those most unlikely to throw my arms around a complete stranger in gratitude for them handing me a bottle for fear that it’d most likely contain toilet rather than spring water, and well, quite frankly, it’s just weird.
Yet, standing on a street corner and handing out bottled water to complete strangers is one of a series of ‘random acts of kindness’; a minority movement gaining momentum all over the world and aimed solely at ‘spreading the love’ which also features ‘hugging’. Many artists have embraced this new practice by meeting fans in the open for a good old hugging session. Indeed, did you know that the 21st January is actually NATIONAL HUG DAY? It’s quite a popular thing now and, interestingly in the more cosmopolitan of places, hugs are dished out like hot dogs on street corners where you’d be the weird one for thinking it was weird. Yes, it appears that these days there’ a whole new breed of Matha Amrithanandamayi Ashram. Otherwise known as Amma of India, an elderly lady who travels the world embracing people. Last year she caused quite a stir right in our backyard during the leg of her ‘tour’ that saw her stop off at Alexandra Palace where literally thousands queued patiently to receive a hug.
Nauseous yet or would you like to read more?
You do have to ask what exactly might be missing from the lives of hug queuers that compels them to stand in line to receive a hug from a complete stranger. I guess it’s an acquired taste. Would you, could you, have you queued to receive a hug?
I’m reading this and I can hear my own cynism creeping in however I assure you that I am not that much of a cynic, I’m merely playing devil’s advocate for, believe it or not, and yes, as much as this is most certainly going to damage my stoical masculine demeanure, I’d like it known that I too am a hugaholic. There, “My name is Tony and I’m a hugaholic!” I’ve confessed. If something stands long enough, I’ll hug it but that generally relates to trees. Well, I do come from Italian heritage and they’re a very tactile bunch (as are most of the Mediterraneans) and I’ve unashamedly practised hugging for many years, generally on unsuspecting, stiff upper lipped, typically British friends. Needless to say, they, not unlike most humans, resisted at first but I believe, not unlike ‘The Borg’, that resistance is futile. Indeed, I can’t imagine any of my close friends (yes, I’m talking about the blokes here as you women don’t appear to have the same reservations) who would part company with me before dishing out a hug.
The power of ’the hug’ is clearly evidenced in the unmistakable scenario where, in the company of a distressed person, one feels compelled to throw one’s arms around them or (for the more spacially aware) ‘tap’ them on the back in a consolation gesture which more than often works at easing the anguish. The etherals would have us believe that this is due to ‘transferance’; the negative energy from the distressed/sad person is transferred from them to the donor in exchange for positive energy. And I could go along with that although the experts have a much more plausable (and yes) scientific explanation, it’s a hormone called Oxytocin. Oxytocin is made in the area of the brain called the hypothalamus and it makes us feel good when we’re ‘close’ to family and other loved ones, including pets. It does this by acting through what scientists call the dopamine reward system. Dopamine is a brain chemical that plays a crucial part in how we perceive pleasure. Many drugs of abuse act through this system. But Oxytocin does more than make us feel good, it lowers the levels of stress hormones in the body, reducing blood pressure, improving mood, increasing tolerance for pain and perhaps even speeding how fast wounds heal. It also seems to play an important role in our relationships. It’s been linked, for example, to how much we trust others. Researchers are still studying what part Oxytocin plays in feuding loved ones but one thing they can say with certainty is that physical contact affects oxytocin levels.
So, could Oxytocin be responsible for the other practice of hugging complete strangers or the selflessness in executing a ‘random act of kindness’? There appears to be a link with that belief that whilst we’re thinking about the problems of others we’re forgetting about our own. In other words, doing good makes us in turn feel good (there goes the Oxytocin theory again). The RAOK (as it’s affectionately known) is becoming more and more popular these days, and it’s wondered if its a reaction to what many now believe is a cynical and perhaps somewhat jaded world, where we’re terrified of letting our children play outside the security of our homes, unsupervised, where hitch hiking is a self imposed death sentence, where parents need a form signed in triplicate to take pictures of their own children, and where we’re terrified of drinking out of the same bottle of our friends for fear of catching some kind of disease (see my previous blog post; over 30? Congratulations, you survived!) that some humans are reverting ‘back to nature’ in an effort to rediscover humanity not as it is but as it was, free from neurosis, obsessive compulsive disorders, self absorption, narcissism, materialism (yes, I could be here a while) to rediscover that warm and fussy feeling also known as the ‘milk of human kindness’.
So, if you’re interested in performing some ‘random acts’ yourself, there are a series of websites dedicated to precisely that. That’s right, if you wake up one day with a warmth spread over your body (that doesn’t involve urine) and feel like sharing the love, there’s a veritable banquet of suggestions going free at www.randomactsofkindness.org or you could check out 29 ways to carry out random acts of kindness, and there’s even a group founded by the actor, Misha Collins, of whom my niece is a MASSIVE FAN, http://www.therandomact.org/wordpress/ (yep, I’m sure she’d appreciate a twitter mention Misha as a thanks for the pingback to your blog)
Better still, take a look at the list and then ask yourself how many of those acts have you personally conducted over the past year?
There’s no mistaking that we’re living in a whole new world and, whatever your thoughts, sickly or cynically they are determined by your own perspective of it. The Americans call it ‘pay it forward’; a good deed be repaid by having it done to others instead. The richest reward is not often what we get from others but what we do for them and the effect it ultimately has in turn on us. The following video illustrates precisely that so if you have 3 minutes, I highly recommend you take a look, it’ll make you feel good, I promise.
Happy hugging!
Love or Loathe Valentines Day?
What does Valentines Day mean to you? Does it make you feel warm and fuzzy? Duty bound or blatant sour faced and cynical?
So, was Saint Valentines the saint of lurve? Well, not quite. February 14th was first known for honouring Martyrs, such as Saint Valentine, it is believed as far back as 496. Valentine’s day actually first became associated with ‘love’ in the middle ages when the tradition of ‘courtly love’ became, well, traditional. By the 15th century, it had evolved into the day when lovers expressed their love by presenting gifts, amongst other things, to their loved ones. 
Fast forward several centuries and not much has changed apart from the face that Valentines Day has evolved into a multi billion pound industry. Cards, confectionery, flowers, clean and filthy trips away, jewellery, fancy meals, cologne, perfume, gadgets….phew, I could go on for a while but you get my point. Not unlike Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, Cat’s Day, Dog’s Day and every other ‘day’ you can think of, Valentine’s day is serious chi ching time for certain industries.
Of course this all sounds somewhat cynical but you can’t help but feel that this ‘day’ thing has been nurtured by global enterprise to give the economies of respective companies a quick commercial shot in the arm whilst applying the pressure to everyday folk who, in a materialistic world, feel obliged to part with their cash for fear of ‘upsetting’ somebody.
The stoical among us would say that such vacuous displays of affection do not define a relationship, and there is some truth to that argument as it’s synonymous with those that argue that any display of affection should be spontaneously felt as it is administered throughout the whole year and not solely when the calendar dictates. And who can argue with that? Would you much rather be showered with gifts on Valentines Day or would you settle for simply being treated with ‘right’ and with respect for the rest of the year.
The smug see today as an opportunity to troupe the colour red or, more specifically, to parade their latest offerings in an almost tribal display of prowess; behold my possessions! And I’m not talking about the gift itself but about the person from whom the gift originated, for this person is a conquest in itself and to exhibit such a conquest is not a practice exclusively reserved for Valentines Day. Then again, is it such a terrible practice? E.g. if that person had been single for a long time and now has found the partner of his or her dreams who treats them like proverbial royalty and makes them feel so special then why shouldn’t they crow about it? Surely they’ve earned the right to after wandering for what felt like centuries, as love destitutes, through a baron landscape of a single’s wilderness. Maybe.
So what about ‘the singles’? How are they fairing on the this day of red parades? Well, some worse than others these select few are subject to their own parade of shame, and it’s that of failure. Men are particularly susceptible to this; indeed to be a straight male and not have girly on your arm arm always prompts a few questions as well as a re-branding to gay, a playboy or sociopath. It couldn’t just be of course that this male simply enjoys being single and living his life as he chooses without the need to ‘check in’ with a significant other for now.
Not unlike Christmas and New Years, Valentines Day has the unique way of making some singles feel rotten about themselves and their lives. The reality is singles are much better off than many who are in a stagnant relationship (some of them ardent red paraders) that died many months if not years before but they simply don’t have the guts and, often, the opportunity to leave. By guts, I mean they’re terrified of wandering the aforementioned wilderness, terrified of being alone, and have settled with the idea that it’s better to be with somebody than with nobody.
Really? 
Is this how you want to spend the rest of your life? Stuck in something, whatever that may be, than nothing? This is your life, every second you wish away, every moment that you waste on something that gives you nothing is a waste of your time on this earth. Surely you’re worth much more than that, aren’t you? The same is of those who are ‘trapped’ in a property investment or to a relationship for the sake of somebody else , whether that be their partner or indeed their children. If our society has taught us anything, it’s that children live a much healthier life with parents are who relatively content with their existence yet separated than with those that spend the majority of their time together squabbling over the ridiculous.
Whatever your relationship status on this Valentines Day remember one thing; relationships, like the tide, come and go. What remains are the humans who are true to you, be it family, your best friends or indeed your life partner of many years. The humans who, no matter what, stick with you through the good times and the bad, for rich and for poor, in sickness and in health. And no, that phrase doesn’t apply exclusively to husbands and wives but to all of those who prove to be our source of strength even in the most darkest of times. It’s these people who are the true riches of your life, not the material or even the carnal pleasures you’ve amassed along the way.
Love is not one person but it is your life; the air you breath, the colours you see, and that ability to look back at your short existence on this earth and LOVE what you see.
Happy Valentines Day.
Living with the devil; a true story of narcissism
” Those suffering from narcissism will often show signs of excessive (often erotic) interest in themselves. Does this sound like somebody you know or knew?”
We’ve all experienced bad relationships, and it doesn’t matter whether these are personal or professional, the net result is the same; emotional turmoil. I’m no exception. A few years ago, a personal six year relationship came to an abrupt and traumatic end.
Friday 13th; lucky or unlucky?
They say 13 is an unlucky number and Friday an unlucky day, which makes the combination even more deadly! Just ask all of those buxom girls
and skinny boys in the successful 80s Movie franchise…what? You don’t know what I’m talking about? Okay, that’s a whole different blog post about age. Moving on…
FOLKLORE
As with most folklore, it isn’t always easy to determine origin as this often transcends generations. Take a look at just some of the most famous sayings. The number 13 and its mythical powers is no exception although it’s believed to originate way back in that ancient text known as ‘the bible’, specifically, the part featuring Judas, who betrays Jesus. It is believed that Judas was the 13th guest to sit down at the last supper.
DINNER PARTY GUESTS
Even today, a 13th dinner party guest is believed to be unlucky and some have gone as fas as seating a teddy bear at their table to even out the numbers. The 13th guest (which is now sounding more and more like another book title) also played havoc in Norse mythology, where a guest caused the world to be plunged into darkness, and then there’s the most famous ‘Black Friday’ of stock market crash fame. Now, some buildings do not have a 13th floor, some hotels have no 13th room and some airlines no flight 13 (wow, just the sound of that is enough to make one cancel tickets).
LUCKY FOR SOME
On the other hand, the number 13 is lucky is many countries. For example, in Italy, the number 13 is considered to be a lucky number. In fact, it’s somewhat interesting that I started the day yesterday by having a conversation with my Mother about the fact that it was Friday 13th and I expected it to be an unlucky day whilst she, being an Italian, thought it would be a lucky day.
UNLUCKY FRIDAY
So what about Friday? Well, in Britain, it’s the ‘unlucky’ Hangman’s Day, the day upon which most hangings were scheduled to take place.The antithesis to this of course is Good Friday which, as its name suggests is a very lucky day. Indeed, to be born on Good Friday is considered to be very lucky.
LUCKY FOR ME
Whatever your belief, Friday the 13th January 2012 proved to be a very lucky day for me. It started off with me receiving an email from an 
Executive Producer at ITV Studios, who produces a show for Sky Atlantic, very kindly including a sound file of the theme tune to The Devil’s Dinner Party and granting us exclusive permission to use it for Casa Bella’s Devil’s Dinner Party which is due to take place on the 18th February 2012 with yours truly playing that part of the devileseque host (as if). The producer went on to wish us the best of luck and ask for pictures of the evening. (Yes, note to all out guests) . Thanks Amanda!
The day then continued with a bit of the usual wrangling and frustrated negotiations about a momentous business deal that I’d been working on for nearly a year. The pressure of which was brought to bear mostly in the past few months where, but for one signature, we were unable to close. Then, at the eleventh hour, yesterday, our deadline to call the whole thing off, the signature was finally faxed 5000 miles across the Atlantic Ocean to the Cambridge office of my accountants! It was then a manic rush to get funds, my butt as well as that of all relevant parties in front of a notary for signatures before close of business.
And thus, after months of discussing, negotiating, planning, fighting off competitors as well as traitors and a healthy dose of paranoia, on Friday 13th January 2012, I finally became the owner, Managing Director and CEO of a successful Cambridge software company! A bit of a departure from my usual ventures but after being involved with the company for over a decade, it seemed logical, and I am absolutely thrilled! CGA has immense potential and some very exciting projects in the pipeline.
GETTING MY LIFE BACK ON TRACK
I’d be lying if I said that the past few months have been easy since they’ve been stalked with insomnia, stress related eating, shingles and a whole medley of other ‘unhealthy’ practices (and no, I don’t mean anything like that. Remember; to the pure all is pure). I became so wrapped up in bringing this deal to a conclusion one way or another that I’ve been nothing short of ‘consumed’ by it but then, I guess, that’s how people get when they’re focussed.
I’d vowed that Friday the 13th would, one way or another, be the culmination of a somewhat ‘hazy’ few month and that I needed to ‘give it up’ and get my health back on track by hating early mornings; because they mean getting my backside out of bed and onto the cross trainer and by comfort eating in front of the TV, which isn’t bad in itself but is somewhat concerning when you actually miss doing it!
I also missed writing very much. This blog has been the only thing that has kept this writer fed on the appetite to put fingers to keyboard but I do miss working on long term writing projects and that’s why now that this deal is done, I can now focus on getting back to one of the things I love the most (in my spare time of course which I know will be limited but that’s okay).
There’s no doubt that 2012 is going to bring a whole new set of challenges but isn’t that the point of life, experiencing new things and ‘growing’? We, not unlike the company I just purchased, after a period of time are in danger of becoming stagnant, formulaic, in our routines, in the way we see the people and the world around us. From time to time, there’s definitely room for a change. We go about our daily lives believing we’re happy with the status quo but are? Aren’t we blessed with a life to ‘live it’? Try new things, take on new challenges and prove to ourselves that we’re actually alive? They say to do one thing each day that scares you, well, one thing a day may be somewhat unpractical but I definitley recommend something at least once a year.
The landscape of my destiny has definitely been changed, especially when compared to a few days ago, it feels different, brighter, new, unknown and downright exciting!
For me, Friday 13th marked the beginning of a new chapter in my life (and by association) the lives of those around me. Whether or not this was lucky, only time will tell but so far, so good!
a Different Angle’s Top 10 favourite posts of 2011. Which one’s yours?
HAPPY NEW YEAR!
Here’s the first post for 2012 and it’s going to be dedicated to 2011! So much for not looking back…. 
Well, I just felt compelled to put finger to keyboard when I discovered an email from WordPress in my inbox stating that whilst I was busy celebrating the arrival of 2012, they were busy crunching number and diessecting a Different Angle’s blog statistics for 2011.
And it made for an interesting read!
Apparently:
The concert hall at the Syndey Opera House holds 2,700 people. This blog was viewed about 123,300 times in 2011. If it were a concert at Sydney Opera House, it would take about 45 sold-out performances for that many people to see it!
In 2011, there were 91 new posts, growing the total archive of this blog to 109 posts. There were 288 pictures uploaded.
The busiest day of the year was October 31st. The most popular post that day was Casa Bella Halloween’s Video published! . Which is amazing since a limited amount of people were actually able to attend yet thousands of you actually watched the video online.
The ‘dossier’ then lists the most popular articles of 2011… the top 10 are listed below (in no particular order)…. which one is your favourite?
- Christmas, Loved or Loathed. How does it make you feel?
- My Hands on ALL new Range Rover Evoque but my lips are sealed
- Controversial Manuscript; to get a dusting
- Facebook Friends; isn’t it time for a good culling?
- Surrounded by Negative People? Read on.
- Living With The Devil; a true story of Narcissism
- Tears, Tantrums : Tiaras; Casa Bella’s HOIME Awards
- Stealing Your Identity is Easy; here’s how
- The Death of Marriage
- Smile; these are actual London Underground announcements
S0, did yours make the top 10?
The one I find most interesting is Living with the Devil. It received a staggering amount of reads! Clearly inflated by Google searches on the subject. This is obviously a very important subject to many of you! Of course, I couldn’t be more thrilled as the article is an excerpt from my manuscript, Coming Up For Air, which I’ve vowed to return to this year.
Don’t forget, our most recent posts can all be browsed from the a Different Angle Facebook page. Simply like the page and click on the NEWS tab. And if you’re not already a fan, LIKE US now by using the link to the right.
Thanks very much for reading all of the posts in 2011… I’ll be working hard on making sure that all of the 2012 posts are equally as interesting. And, of course, if you have any favourite subjects you’d like me to write about, simply send an email.
HAPPY NEW YEAR!
2011; good luck or good riddance?
It’s just hours until the clock strikes midnight and 2011 will be banished to our history…. so how was 2011 for you? Good luck or good riddance?
Here are just some or the reasons why 2011 proved to be a very momentous year indeed.
Naturally, without the help of a crystal ball, none of us have any idea what 2012 may bring but as is custom on the evening of the 31st December, we can but hope that 2012 brings each and everyone of us peace, happiness and prosperity.
HAPPY NEW YEAR!
See you in 2012.
NOVEMBER 2011 – Eurozone Collapse
Euro zone on brink of collapse
AUGUST 2011 – London Riots
Two nights of rioting in London’s Tottenham neighborhood erupted following protests over the shooting death by police of a local man, Mark Duggan. Police were arresting him when the shooting occurred. Over 170 people were arrested over the two nights of rioting, and fires gutted several stores, buildings, and cars.
MAY 2nd, 2011 - Bin Laden Killed
OSAMA BIN LADEN, notorious terrorist is killed. Despite a £15 bounty on his head, Bin Laden had evaded capture by US forces for nearly ten years, following the 9/11 attacks on New York which killed nearly 3,000 civilians.
APRIL 2011 – Royal Wedding
Royal Wedding; Kate and William get married. Guests quaffed Pol Roger NV Brut Reserve Champagne and for dessert enjoyed gateau opera, rhubarb creme brulee tartlet, passion fruit praline and chocolate ganache truffle among other sweet canapes.
MARCH 2011
Tsunami hits Japan.
You’re selfish! or are you?
It’s my birthday today!
And it’s the first day in a long time that it’s going to be devoted just to me! 
You’d be forgiven for wondering, ‘aren’t all days devoted to you?’ The answer to that would be no… especially recently, as I’m trying to close on a very important transaction before Christmas…if I do, it will undoubtedly change my life (and by association the people close to me) but in order to achieve this I haven’t worked or thought about much else, including myself, for several months. I’ve had shingles, sleepless nights, tantrums and a whole slew of other emotions, but not much time to stop and actually consider, how the hell am I feeling today? But then how many people do?
As you read this, how often do you actually have the opportunity and feel like you’re able to dedicate all, most or even part of your day to doing things for or even thinking about you? You’re probably thinking, rarely, be it work, family, friends…we’re often thinking about others and not necessarily ourselves, or are we?
Some people are actually thinking about themselves most if not all the time but they just don’t know it… whether that be hijacking a conversation by talking directly about themselves, bemoaning things happening in their lives; disappointing friends, spouse, job, etcetera whilst not drawing breath long enough to consider the things that are happening or are important to others. You may not even see it and, by association, you”re most likely unable to acknowledge it but if you’re exhibiting any of these traits then that makes you a very selfish person indeed.
Does this mean that being selfish is bad and being selfless is good?
Well, it would be easy to jump that the obvious conclusion; being selfless (cheer!) is good… at least it’s perceived that way. There’s even a scientific reason why it’s good but I won’t bore you with that… it’s pretty much the reason why many doting parents will be bathed in a warm glow on Christmas morning as they watch their children unwrap their gifts. The act of doing something for or gifting something to others releases endorphins and makes us ‘feel good’ (most of the time).
On the other hand, being selfish (boo!) is good for us but not necessarily for those around us.
I don’t have much time for people who are more than often only interested in talking about themselves….oddly, these types of or characters appear to be spawning in ever greater numbers. As economic pressures bear down, as we get older, our general way of life becomes somewhat ‘darker’ as do we. What we’d normally turn the other cheek to suddenly becomes a ‘sore’ and, when left untreated, a nasty wound. Many have a problem expressing themselves whilst others have a problem ‘baring all’ too often!
In the absence of a therapist and in the blessing of a close friend or family member, we should all pause for thought… whilst the ones who love and care about us are eager to share in our everyday lives, our good, our bad and our ugly, it is of utmost importance that we reciprocate the sentiment.
So, the next time you find yourself moaning about your ailment, your partner, your colleague, the state of the nation or even the weather… consider the fact that the person who loves you may want to share the lows in your life but they also like to share some of the highs. Now, I know that the depressed among you will instinctively think ‘ there aren’t any highs’ but you’d be amazed by how many things are actually quite good about your life. And, in the unlikely event that you really can’t find anything, then just focus on the good of the ones you love, they’ll be most grateful for it because, guess what, you’re being SELFLESS and this in turn will make YOU feel good.
But the real moral of the story is MODERATION; whilst it may be ‘bad’ to put yourself first at the detriment of others, it’s equally as ‘bad’ to always put yourself last. Each and everyone of us needs to be moderately selfish to ensure that we’re taking adequate care of our state of mind as this will, ultimately, enable us to be selfless with others.
This Christmas and most likely over this winter season (which incidentally starts tomorrow) there’s a good chance that you’ll experience or hear of many acts of selfish/selflessness because this is what being human is all about. Enjoy acts of selflessness bestowed on you and try to reciprocate, you’ll feel good about it! (and no, that’s not necessarily a hint to all my nearest and dearest…. although, now that I mention it…. )
Today, I’m going to be selfish, it’s my Birthday…the one day when I’m truly going to allow it all to be about me because I know that tomorrow everything changes back, again.
Thank you for reading a Different Angle and for showing your support in 2011. I’ve truly felt humbled by your selfless act of dedicating your time to reading my blog posts. For any author, it’s always a blessing to feel ‘read’.
If I don’t post before, HAVE A GREAT CHRISTMAS!
And don’t forget to “take care of yourselves and each other…”
Funny Sunday: amusing no entry signs
IF YOU LIKE THIS POST. PLEASE RATE IT BELOW AND LIKE US ON FACEBOOK!
‘Thought provoking’ blog post about Christmas is most read and shared by YOU!
‘Witty’, ’ Earthy’, ’Real’ and ‘Thought Provoking’.
Just some of the words used to describe yesterday’s article about the highs and lows
of Christmas and the New Year. The post that narrates the build up to Christmas and beyond is the most read and shared article on the a Different Angle Blog with a staggering 1,103 hits and over a hundred shares in its first hour of publication.
Now what can I say to that but THANKS!
I enjoy reading and therefore always try to write articles that are a reflection of everyday life and it appears that this one about the good, the bad and the ugly of the festive season has struck a chord with many of you.
You’ve also been kind enough to message me with comments about the article which you’ve described as ‘witty’, ‘earthy’, ‘real’ and ‘thought provoking’. Thank you so much…I really do like to hear from you and would love it even more if you’d be kind enough to rate the articles on the blog and also leave your comments there for others to see. If you’re worried about leaving your name, simply leave your initials.
Thanks again, it’s your support that inspires me to write bigger and better articles.
And for those who missed yesterday’s post, you can read it here. And by all means, feel free to share the link to it some more. I promise, I don’t mind.
HAPPY HOLIDAYS!
Christmas; loved or loathed….how does it make you feel?
“How Are you?”
How many times has somebody asked you that? And how many times have you stopped to think about your answer and say what’s really on your mind? Most of us don’t, not unless we’re talking to a family member or friend and certainly not whilst in a long line at the checkout or at the beginning of a major business meeting since nobody expects a relative stranger to launch into a monologue about how their back is still giving them gyp and how their partner has run off with the next-door neighbour and taken the family pet. No, our stock response will often be “Fine, thanks” but the reality is often different.
As Brits, we take issue with American’s use of “How ya’ doing?” and “Have a nice day” because these phrases appear artificial, insincere yet, despite this fact, we too are adopting this artificial familiarity. Indeed, “how are you?” is progressively becoming synonymous with “hello”. So with this in mind, let me ask you once again, ‘how are you’?
But before you answer that, take a few seconds; is everything absolutely fine in your life? If, after some soul searching, you are able to answer “yes” then congratulations, you are one of the few in the world living a truly blissful existence. That or you are in denial.
The simple truth is, most of us aren’t okay. There’s often something weighing on our mind, whether it’s money (lack of it), a job (feeling unfulfilled or incompatible with a colleague), our children (their behaviour, their values, their future), a relationship (not working, over), or eternal loss (of somebody you love but whom you know you’ll never see again), we’re always carrying something like a surgically placed emotional backpack.
So what are we doing about this? What are you doing to make it better? Well, often nothing, it’s just life, but for some, approximately 6000 each year in the UK, It’s more than that or, more specifically, more than they can bare and, sadly, they choose what’s known as “the easy way out.” The fallacy is that these tragic events are most commonly ‘triggered’ during the festive season; major events that call for the gathering and rejoicing of one and all which accentuate the feeling of loneliness and loss. However, Whilst the festive season is undoubtedly a depressing time for some and is responsible for an increase in telephone calls to national support groups, it is not the most common time of year for suicide. This is actually in the spring. The reason is unknown but experts believe it’s something to do with the warmer weather that ‘triggers’ something in humans.
So, what’s with all this talk of suicide? Please forgive my temporary flippancy but if, like me, you have a large family, you’ll understand why sometimes this thought is not so alien. Christmas is the time of year when, like it or not, families are thrust together, often more by duty than by choice which means the danger of a flashpoint and subsequent meltdown is high. Furthermore, “Christmas isn’t like it used to be.” At least the flash poll I conducted. Most of those I actually spoke to (4 out of 5) just groaned as if I’d asked them to drop to the ground and give me twenty press-ups. Out of the 20 people who voted online, 9 said that they weren’t looking forward to it as it “isn’t what it used to be”. Most of these were women.
Why are the majority of people not looking forward to the season of goodwill? Well, could it be because Christmas happens at the end of a year and reminds us all of our mortality; one year older? Or is it simply that it’s an unusually stressful time for many. It’s a time where finances tend to be stretched to the limit, whether that be due to gift hunting or simply amassing the stock pile of food which, for some obscure reason, we all feel we have to hoard as if a nuclear winter were around the corner. This is somewhat ironic given our age of 24 hour shopping where one’s often stretched to find somewhere closed on Christmas day than open. Yet, most (and yes, especially the women) are going to fret over whether or not there’s enough food to go round as well as worry about family politics, hence the crucial pre event briefing. Not unlike major security details, key family members are ‘briefed’ (often by mothers) to avoid certain topics, “Don’t mention anything about cousin Jack’s run in with the police or Emily’s split from her boyfriend because she still gets upset about it, yes It’s been a year, yes she’d only known him one night whilst on holiday but just don’t mention anything!” This sense of diplomacy, dormant for the rest of the year, makes an impressive emergence at family gatherings, one to rival even the most hardened of politicians, as major negotiations are held to circumnavigate the ubiquitous row about where to spend Christmas and Boxing Day. This prompts an in depth analysis, worthy of any pie chart, about which day, hour, minute was spent where last year. And thus, hours and a few arguments later, deals are struck, plans are made and grudges set aside (albeit temporarily).
So the big day arrives, ‘the event’ where children can’t sleep for the excitement and adults can’t sleep because they left the turkey in the slow cooker over night. Family members are bullied into lending a hand, table places are set, decorations are checked for symmetrical alignment, toilets are sterilised, rooms and spouses are tidied, and furniture is given the once over, all minutes before the doorbell chimes. Months of shopping, scrimping, saving, and hours of decorating, cleaning, peeling, whisking, all for this moment. So, if you successfully manage to get everybody to the table, the meal commences with traditional gluttony during which you thank God that you made it this far without any major disasters. Now, the only challenge remaining is the warzone that is the kitchen as well as where to put the stockpile of food that you didn’t use but is enough to feed a whole third world village. And it’s as lazier relatives slouch in front of the TV to critique the Queen’s speech or sleep off the gorging ritual that it hits you; what on earth was all the rushing, plotting, planning, stressing and yelling about? It’s one day of the year yet it rivals the most sophisticated of wedding ceremonies and, as such, had you on the verge of tears more times that you’d care to admit. And it all starts off in September with a barrage of advertising that, like a pressure cooker, gradually builds up out of all proportions and expectations as you strive to make it the most memorable event ever. In reality, it’s just another day, only with more people to cook and wait on, featuring the obligatory poor man’s version of pomp, ceremony and traditions. But now, like the calm after the storm, it all seems a bit of an anticlimax, one of those really sexy dreams where everything is going well until the object of your desire turns out to be somebody you know, don’t particularly like, and now won’t look at the same way ever again. Many forget that this special day is actually the celebration of somebody’s birthday yet, in many households, this is a minor technicality lost in the master plan but is ultimately the equivalent of throwing a birthday party without the birthday boy.
So what about New Years? Well, unlike Christmas (the end of the year) it marks the beginning of a new chapter in our lives, a blank canvas, and the chance to consign all the ills of yesteryear to the past and start anew. Like clearing an old debt, we’re energised, full of resolutions, ready to take our future by the horns, kick the habit (whatever that may be), start the diet and or hit the gym with the view to being slimmer and sexier by the summer. Right? Well, kind of, that is until we reach the middle of January, the 24th to be precise. What? you don’t know about the 24th? It’s been officially labelled as the most depressing day of the year. Yes, all according to a scientific verifiable formula consisting of weather, credit card debt, time elapsed since the Christmas ‘festivities’, failed resolutions, motivational bankruptcy, and a desperate need to have something to look forward to besides the spring bank holiday (hence why holiday adverts run days after Boxing Day). Furthermore, nights are short as well as tempers; insurance companies blame ‘winters driver’s disorder’ for an increase in road accidents in January. Employers are also encouraged to be ‘nicer’ to their staff in January by offering free hot drinks and throwing mini office parties.
Wow, all that and a recession that’s still lingering like a bad smell! We’re doomed! There appear to be many reasons why both the beginning and the end of the year makes us downright gloomy. Many reasons why the next time somebody asks “how are you?” we’ll assail them with an emotional outpour.
But hold on, what about the middle of the year? We haven’t talked about that. That’s because we don’t need to. The reality is that our experiences aren’t the results of some sadistic game played by mythical gods, it’s simply life. Like shares; we’re sometimes up and sometimes down. It’s how we deal with our ups and downs that makes the difference. For most of us, the nostalgic ‘Norman Rockwell’ warm and fuzzy image of coming home for the holidays is just that; an artistic impression. Life isn’t always easy, of course it isn’t, if it were we wouldn’t be able to appreciate the things that really matter the most. Family, friends, life partners often equal unreserved love. This isn’t something that you’ll find in a Christmas cracker but it’s a precious gem to be appreciated and admired maybe not all the time but at least on special occasions. Our life, like some parents, may not be perfect but it’s the only one we have, and the trick is to make most of it because you never know what tomorrow may bring.
Funny Sunday; actual science quotes from 11 year olds
- “Water is composed of two gins, Oxygin and Hydrogin. Oxygin is pure gin. Hydrogin is gin and water.”
- “Artificial insemination is when the farmer does it to the cow instead of the bull.”
- “When you breathe, you inspire. When you do not breathe, you expire.”
- “H20 is hot water, and CO2 is cold water.”
- “Three kinds of blood vessels are arteries, vanes, and caterpillars.
- “Dew is formed on leaves when the sun shines down on them and makes them perspire.”
- “Mushrooms always grow in damp places and so they look like umbrellas.”
- * “The body consists of three parts – the brainium, the borax and the abominable cavity. The brainium contains the brain, the borax contains the heart and lungs, and the abominable cavity contains the bowels, of which there are five – a, e, i, o and u.”
- “Rhubarb: a kind of celery gone bloodshot.”
- “Vacuum: A large, empty space where the pope lives.”
- “For drowning: climb on top of the person and move up and down to make Artificial Perspiration.”
- ”For Fainting: Rub the person’s chest or, if a lady, rub her arm above the hand instead. Or put the head between the knees of the nearest medical doctor.”
- “The alimentary canal is located in the northern part of Indiana.”
- “The tides are a fight between the Earth and Moon. All water tends towards the moon, because there is no water in the moon, and nature abhors a vacuum. I forget where the sun joins in this fight.”
- “Equator: A managerie lion running around the Earth through Africa.”
- ”Germinate: To become a naturalized German.”
- “To prevent contraception: wear a condominium.”
- “To keep milk from turning sour: keep it in the cow.”
Funnier second time round?
I’ve been reviewing the statistics for my blog and getting an idea of what you ‘regular’ and new readers find interesting and the statistics themselves
are interesting!
For example, the other week, I noticed that my post featuring actual London Undeground announcement had been found by somebody via Google keywords… I assume that person was actually looking for the London Underground. However, they must have read the post because, slowly, throughout the week, ‘reads’ of that particular post have shot up expontentionally to the point where it is now the most read article on a Different Angle. This must mean that you lovely readers out there have been sharing the link with thousands of others. Thanks!
The same has been happening with my blog post earlier in the year about Facebook ‘friends’. Whilst not as popular as the London underground announcements, there’s been renewed interest.
So, with this in mind, I’ll be reposting some of the links from the blog to Facebook to see if some things really are funnier second time round. In the meantime, here’s a direct link to the London Underground post, see what you think.
Casa Bella’s Halloween is a monster success!
It’s the day after the night before… and what a night!
After more than 3 months of planning, Casa Bella’s Halloween took place last night, and I have to say that when I set about designing the concept, I
couldn’t have wished for such a successful conclusion to the evening. Success being judged by the reaction of our guests and the simultaneous execution of multiple tasks which included lighting over 30 different types of candles, switching on over twenty battery candles, activating 40 electric lights, and drowning a whole coffin in a tidal wave of dry ice, to name a few!
I guess the reason why I was able to pull all of this together was because of the Casa Bella team, which included my sister, Francesca, my niece, Anna, and my best friend, Tom. They all rallied around when I needed them most and we managed to (I believe) pull off the best ‘wow’ factor of any Casa Bella event yet. Luckily, much of the imagery of the evening, including the reactions of our guests has been caught for posterity and published to the Casa Bella Facebook website (address below).
What couldn’t be caught in stills or in moving pixels (yes, video cameras rolled) was the atmosphere brought by the fortuitous gale that howled around Casa Bella shaking the collection of pumpkin lanterns hanging outside of the haunted mansion and over the cursed grave, all viewable from the thrones of our guests that encircled a life size coffin that bubbled like a cauldron and spewed mist, nor the specially mixed score that ran throughout the evening, featuring a through-the-door moaning gale, an eerie music box, a few ghosts, thunder, rain and the odd slamming door (again, to name a few). This was the ideal soundtrack to the collection of ghosts stories penned by each guest specially for the event with the hope of winning the title and prize of BEST STORY. This award was eventually snatched up by Selina Daley from an equally impressive collection of creepy, gruesome and sometimes witty accounts. Selina’s real life account of premonition will be published to this blog as soon as it is made available by its author. Selina also wins a £20 Amazon voucher which will be winging its way to her over the next few days.
Of course, Halloween wouldn’t be the same without its costumes and, in true Casa Bella style, we were also handing out an award for
Best Costume. It seemed to me that all of our guests were very keen on getting their hands on our skeleton trophy, judging by the quality of some of the costumes and make up. I was really blown away by some of the characters. We had vampires, demons, zombies and even one of the most terrifying depictions of a reaper that I have ever seen! However, it appears that the most impressive of all was….. well, mine! Yes, I was lucky enough to be voted BEST COSTUME WINNER for my depiction of Nosfertu. What do you think? Needless to say, I was somewhat choked when I counted out the votes. In all honesty, I really was not expecting the win! And yes, before you ask, I kept all of the so called ballot papers just in case of query. So, I’d like to take this opportunity to thank the hideous jury for their most generous votes. It’s very much appreciated! Clearly, it was the smile that did it.
So, now, nearly 24 hours later, the Casa Bella entertainment’s room has been restored to its former glory; the wallpapers gone, the hideous portraits of mutant ancestors, the coffin that struck fear into the superstitious heart of my beloved sister has been folded and neatly packed away, and with it, chunks of plaster from the dining room ceiling! Yes, my dysfunctional relationship with Mr Sellotape ended acrimoniously when I decided to rip him down and throw him out. Which is rather ironic considering I had to ‘refresh’ the sellotape on those walls no less than 6 times as the paper kept falling down! Oh well, he’s been evicted now and I’ll have to call my trusty chum to ‘touch’ up those walls with some paint, ready for the next event.
Yes, presently, there are plans (not yet formalised) for another Casa Bella ‘experience’ in the New Year. For those of you that may not have caught my previous post. Read all about it here. The announcement of this event received unprecedented interest. Read about it here. I’ve already held initial talks with Andrew R Hubbard about a potential Casa Bella Charity event in aid of Alzheimer’s Research UK.
Which means that if you’ve been intrigued with Casa Bella and our dinner party experiences and have wanted to attend then you may well get your wish. Our dinner parties have been strictly by invitation only (for family and friends). However, in order to raise funds for Andrew’s charity, we’re considering throwing open our doors and selling tickets to our next event. So, if you’ve always fancied a unique dinner party experience and like the idea of supporting a worthwhile cause then visit Casa Bella’s Facebook page and LIKE it. We’ll be announcing further details about the next event on this blog and on Casa Bella’s Facebook page where you’ll also be able to see more pictures of last night’s spooktacular event. Visit and LIKE the Facebook page now. Tickets for the next event will be limited (we already have reserved bookings) so if you want to be in with a chance to get a seat, you’ll have to act fast!
Who knows, I could be writing and thousands could be reading about YOU in a few months time!
Until then, “take good care of yourselves, and each other”.
Casa Bella’s Charity event announcement tops 1000 hits in first hour!
Wow, read all about it! Read all about it!
Within its first hour of publication, a staggering 1,006 of you read this morning’s Sunday blog post about Casa Bella’s charity event due to take place in 2012! That’s a approximately 16 hits a minute!
Thanks! Read what all the fuss is about by clicking here and please feel free to share the story with your family and friends and be sure to tune in for details on how to get tickets to Casa Bella’s exclusive event due to take place in early 2012.
And how appropriate that this is also my 100th blog post!
Thanks… keep reading!
Casa Bella to open its doors to public!
It’s the week leading up to Casa Bella’s Halloween and, in my usual inimitable way, I’m stressing that not all of my ducks are standing to attention, indeed some of the ducks haven’t even been hatched yet, and, a week today, we’re supposed to be in the throws of terrorising guests, or being terrorised! So, there’s much to do, including unfinished costumes for disorganised friends! Next week is going to be a very busy indeed with last minute shopping and make up, lots of make up! Yeah, well I had to satisfy that secret fetish some way, don’t I?
There have been some spooky goings on at Casa Bella this week with collapsing props, the shattering of one of my favourite (and expensive) candelabras and things mysteriously movingaround the room. We’re certainly getting into the ‘spirit’ of things! It’s all part of the process I guess, that or we actually have an uninvited guest!
On the upside, today three people (who will not be attending the event next week), had a special privileged preview of the refurbishments, they appeared quite impressed, and that was during the light of day… so my fingers are well and truly crossed that my vision will be realised at night. Be sure to stop by next Sunday for pictures!
So who were these people blessed with rare and exclusive access to Casa Bella pre event? Well, one of them was my cherished electrician who was kind enough to give up his Saturday morning to carry out some last minute light installations in our events room, and the other couple? Well, they say that people ‘crash’ into our lives for a reason. I’m a strong believer of this and that’s why, despite the somewhat hectic schedule, I cleared my afternoon, to make a new friend, well, two new friends; two complete strangers walked into my home and into my life, and I’m delighted to report that it was a charming experience.
Okay, so they didn’t come in off the street, I’d actually been corresponding with one of them for quite some time now. He is a journalist (even if I can’t help but think that he doesn’t truly believe that himself, at least , not yet) and she is, wait for it, a Midwife! That’s right, a midwife. And you would be forgiven for picturing an ‘old bird’, sporting a somewhat matronly demeanour and perhaps a few badly worn years, the reality is quite the opposite; a girl barely in her twenties who wouldn’t be too out of place on the cover of Maxim. Indeed, this engaging and unassuming duo, destined for marriage next year, make for a very handsome couple indeed.
So what is about this couple that had me compelled to meet with them in the midst of falling fabrics, misbehaving sellotape and disappearing lanterns? Well, Andrew R Hubbard has long been a contributor on Facebook’s St Neots page, and whilst we’ve corresponded by email, we’d never actually met, until today.
The reason for our meeting is Andrew’s pledge to run the Virgin London Marathon in April 2012. Andrew’s a ‘sporty’ guy but the motivation behind this latest initiative wasn’t just to work up a sweat but to work up some money for Alzheimer’s Resarch UK ( http://www.alzheimersresearchuk.org). Andrew has first-hand experience of the harrowing effects of this disease through his namesake, Roy, his Grandfather; a man full of life (and jokes) whom Andrew witnessed become an alien of his former self. ”The money I work hard to raise can’t help Granddad but it can stop people who have his condition suffering and help the families of those with dementia too.”
And it was Andrew’s enthusiasm for this cause that drove me to want to meet the twenty-something year old to see how I could help.
Now, anybody who knows me knows that I’m not ‘into’ charities. Yes, I said that out loud. I’m a true believer of that old addage that ‘charity starts at home’ and by that I’m also including friends who are often ‘in need’ in one way or another. These ’causes’ mean the most to me, right now….or so I thought.
It would be fair to say that, over the past year, we’ve created somewhat of brand name for Casa Bella’s themed dinner party experiences, this is evidenced by the fact that we generally have to work to a waiting list. So why not use one of Casa Bella’s events to help raise funds for Andrew’s charity? This was the topic of our meeting after which we naturally concluded that it would indeed be an active way of making a contribution through something that we now have quite a bit of experience with.
Traditionally, Casa Bella events have only been open to close friends and strictly by invitation only so if you’ve read about our dinner party experiences and wanted to attend now’s your chance. That’s right, we’re throwing open Casa Bella’s doors and will be selling seats to our next exclusive dinner party experience in 2012. All net proceeds will go to Andrew’s charity and towards smashing his £2,000 target.
More details about Casa Bella’s dinner party experience to rival all others will be published here in due course. In the meantime, you can still contribute to Alzheimer’s Research UK’s crucial research by donating on Andrew’s fund raising page by clicking here. Remember, every little really does help, yes even £1! And, if like me, you’re not into the whole ‘charity thing’ then be sure to check out future posts for details of how to snap up a place at our next event for a dinner party experience like no other.
Our next meeting about this will take place in a few weeks time. Until then, Casa Bella’s Halloween will be the only thing on my mind for the next 6 days, besides sleeping of course because, in the now immortal words of Faithless, “I can’t get no sleep”. I wonder why!
Afraid? You will be… Halloween, Hell Houses, Magic & Religion.
“Our fascination with fear is a curious one, we’re addicted to the exhilaration of fear but only if we know we’re safe. From rollercoasters through to haunted houses, some of us subject ourselves to extreme situations for a quick thrill but some terror is all too real…”
And so autumn is upon us once more, and with the wind that rustles the leaves comes the season of Celtic (Halloween) and catholic celebrations (Al Saints Day), and let’s not forget the big roaring fires of bonfire night sparked from the ancient tradition of burning animal bones (bon fire) to ward off evil spirits. These days most of us settle for the burning of wood and other materials that we’d have a hard time convincing our fascist ‘refuse technicians’ to collect, but the symbology remains the same.
So, how much exactly do we know about these old traditions?
Well, Halloween owes its name to ALL HALLOWS EVE which precedes ALL SAINTS DAY (1st November), a naturally Christian celebration yet the practices of Halloween are Pagan in their origin. This paradoxical merger came to be many years later since the church denounced Pagans as satanic worshipers; “when you come into the land which the LORD your God is giving you, you shall not learn to follow the abominations of those nations.” No, Halloween has its roots deeply entrenched in the Celts of pre-medieval Europe who divided each year into two halves; the light and the dark half. Samhain (summer end) marked the end of summer and thus the harvest season. The ancient Celts believed that the 31st of October was the day when the veil, dividing the dead and the living, dissolved ‘bringing home’ evil spirits who could only be placated with bribes of food in exchange for immunity from a terrible curse (trick or treat). Some Celts would attempt to scare off the evil spirits by lighting hilltop fires that included the bones of animals (in a sacrificial gesture), placing skulls carved out of vegetables (jack-o-lantern) in strategic places and donning costumes in an attempt to emulate the spirits and go ‘unnoticed’.
Even in modern times, satanic worshipers believe that Halloween is the night when the Prince of Darkness himself returns to earth in order to collect and convert the souls of man. These are just some of the reasons why the church found pagan practices abhorrent and sought a global mass conversion to Christianity. It is believed this took place in the 7th century when the Pantheon of Rome was wrested from the ‘barbarians’ by the church and renamed the Church of The Blessed Virgin and all Martyrs thus going from worshiping All Gods (the Greek word for Pan-theon) to All Saints. It then moved the day that honoured all hallowed saints from the 13th May to the 1st of November to coincide with Samhain; All Hallows Eve (31st October). The church adopted some of the pagan practices in its quest to convert the ‘barbarians’ to Catholicism. Even ‘trick or treating’ became tolerated by the church; costumed children would knock on doors offering to fast for departed souls in exchange for money or an offering.
There was however one pagan practice that was not dissolved in the world’s conversion to Christianity; witchcraft. A witch (from the Anglo-Saxon word Wicca) was somebody who worshipped the deities of nature and collected living talismans and symbols through which they obtained dark powers. Legend has it that the broomstick (a representation of the male organ) was the vehicle upon which the witches flew great distances, in reality, they often dabbled with all sorts of drugs and potions which means those ‘trips’ could have been construed as flight.
The Celts and the Egyptians also believed that the symbolic black cat possessed magical powers. Legend has it that the goddess of Wicca, Diana, turned into a black cat to commit incest with her brother. In all, witchcraft was seen as the worshipping of the devil as opposed to God and thus witches were persecuted for centuries. “Thou shall not suffer a witch to live” (Ex 22:18). Not unlike fox hunting on Boxing Day, witch hunting became a national pastime during the witching season.
Naturally, books and films have sought to capitalise on the mystical elements of witchcraft but none more so than Harry Potter which for millions is seen as a piece of fictional fun but for some is a sinister rebranding of darker themes, such as demonic possession and Satanism. This is born out of passages from the book that refer to the evil character Voldermort who ‘possesses’ the soul of a young girl. In reality, Satanic worshipping sparked mass moral panic in eighties America (and then the rest of the world) where it was believed that the vast proliferation of satanic cults were leading to an increase of prostitution, drug abuse, murder, sexual abuse, pornography, as well as a vast array of disturbing acts (such as necrophilia and cannibalism). The torture of young children was also considered necessary in order to program them to observe a life of devil worship. This led to governments around the world stepping up their policies regarding child abuse investigations which in turn forced cults to revise their strategy and recruit people of standing, such as police officers and politicians.
Today, orange, black and red (the devil’s colours) come together primarily once a year, in the form of a carved pumpkin, on a day when children are given the opportunity to ‘dress up’ and terrorise the neighbourhood whilst most adults flirt with the concept of fear by watching scary movies and visiting old relics in the dead of night in the hope of scaring themselves silly.
Our fascination with fear is a curious one, we’re addicted to the exhilaration of fear but only if we know we’re safe. From rollercoasters through to haunted houses, we’ll do whatever it takes for a quick fix of adrenaline. I should know because I’m one of those junkies as evidenced by my one and only trip to the entertainment capitol of the north, otherwise known as Blackpool. It was a week day and, unsurprisingly, not a very sunny day which meant that the ‘pleasure beach’ was relatively empty. Of all the attractions, we kept on passing one which had a cavernous looking hole for a door outside of which was a wall mounted monitor projecting grainy night vision images of a group of people running and screaming from an unknown entity. For those not familiar with this type of ‘attraction’, it works on the basic premise of charging guests an entry fee to be guided down steps and into some artificial catacomb where the slogan alone is enough to strike the fear of God in most; “don’t touch them and they won’t touch you”!
Oddly enough, like a child drawn to the ubiquitous yet fairly innocuous ghost train, it was this very phrase that caught our attention and, after procrastinating for a few more minutes, we finally decided to brave it. Lucky for me (or not), the attraction wasn’t particularly busy which meant that instead of a group of people, it was just me and my friend, alone in the dark, able to see only but a few feet in front of us, deep in the belly of an ‘attraction’ whose sole purpose was to scare the be geezers out of us. Well, it worked! There were only so many times I could be startled by nerve wrenching screeches, accosted by blood oozing zombies and rattled by chainsaw-wielding psychopaths with disfigured faces before I wanted out of that place. Although, in hindsight, I have to wonder which part I hated the most, running from rooms kitted out with special effects and actors dripping (literally) in makeup or running screaming like a schoolgirl out of the exit doors (at the end of the experience) and into a strategically placed themed diner where patrons sipped drinks whilst enjoying the look of utter terror on the faces of those exiting the attraction.
It may not come as much of a surprise to you that some devout Catholics in North America are adopting the very same tactics to scare sinners out
of sinning. ‘Hell Houses’ are normal looking buildings but with a twist; each of the rooms is kitted out to feature a sin; such as abortion, homosexuality, alcoholism, drug abuse, pre marital sex, abortion and, more controversially, a scene from the Columbine High School massacre (in the wrongful belief that Christians were being targeted for murder). The ‘exhibits’ tend to be ‘staged’ in October (to capitalise on the witching season) and, not unlike my experience, would-be sinners are treated to a collection of gruesome and horrifying scenes depicting sin and its consequences. Those who accept Christ will be saved and those who don’t will be damned to hell. What’s that all about? I chose to go down into the catacombs because the perverse side of me wanted a quick and temporary ‘thrill’. Those who ‘choose’ the path of ‘righteousness’ do so because they have a belief, it should not be necessary to administer such shock therapy to keep them on the straight and narrow. Then again, the other controversy surrounding hell houses is that they aren’t necessarily designed for ‘believers’ but more for ‘non believers’ who are deceived into thinking that the ‘attraction’ is a ‘traditional’ ghost house rather than an evangelical journey. This practice has also drawn criticism from some who believe the process of teaching by instilling fear into children is nothing short of child abuse. This is all somewhat ironic since, on the one hand, we have people brain washed into finding religion whilst, on the other, there are some who just wanted opportunity to freely practice it.
This is so of Robert Catesby who, along with thousands of other Catholics, simply wanted the right to practice his religion. Eh? What do you mean you’ve never heard of Mr Catesby? He was the man behind one of the most infamous and subversive government plots of all time. The foiling of this plot is still celebrated today, on the 5th November.
It took Catesby and Guy Fawkes a year to hatch the plan to blow up parliament and kill the king but a tip off, in the form of a letter, meant that their dastardly plan was foiled. Catesby died in a shoot out in Staffordshire whilst Fawkes was hung (by his neck), drawn (had his innards pulled out) and quartered (cut into four pieces), all before a public audience. And whilst he was not burned on a bonfire, his guts were as his head was speared onto a parliament house spike. That was the price of treason. Thereon, Londoners lit fires in the street to celebrate the fact that the king was saved.
Today, more than 400 years later, we celebrate bonfire night in pretty much the same way. Well, at least all without the hung, drawn and quartered bit. We’d much rather burn effigies instead. Remember, remember the 5th November; the day when we tortured and executed one man and his accomplices, ultimately, because they were deprived the right to practice their religion as they saw fit.
Can you imagine that happening in England today?
