Whistling For It

NoGO's and Mammon

Since arriving home I have been lucky enough to have received all sorts of calls from my old work world of advertising asking me in for chats... which was good to know I could at least put some bread on the table if I needed to. However, having spent the last year meandering through various countries blighted with varying levels of poverty I spent a goodly chunk of time looking for something a bit more in the way of giving back to the world, rather than the take take take of advertising.

I did however find something I thought I might be suitable at one of the world's more spikier NGO's. Alas, it seems somewhere along the line my personality or experience just didn't fit - I find it impossible to believe my rather fantastic new Paul Smith suit could have put them off. Anyway, whilst I wait for some feedback from them I have bills to pay, and so have taken a position back in the world of online media, working on the Borja account.


The Caribbean and the Fjords

My suit got another outing in Barbados at my cousin's wedding. The first few days were spent sticking up lights and washing floors, in a roofless barn where the reception was to be held. My brother and I also practiced readings for the ceremonies, and watched with quiet horror while my uncle (a veteran wedding speech giver, having, as a young man, been the only person anyone new with a morning suit) goaded the groom and his brother (both Greek and unfamiliar with English traditional speech giving format), into formulating speeches they were any too sure about.

However come the day it all went well: the bride turned up looking stunning; the groom was waiting; the best man had the rings; I fell off the end of a riser the lectern was standing on; people stood in the right places for photos; and everyone found their way to the rather off the beaten track reception venue, at a plantation house surround by cane fields... then the heavens opened with proper Caribbean rain. But in reality it forced everyone to huddle together and actually broke the ice a little, as did the rum and champagne cocktails being handed around. So in the end it all went well. And this just left a couple of days to sit around topping up the tan before flying home.

Be it far from me to attempt to spend any time in England if I can help it, I was off on a plane to Norway to spend a couple of days with Norwegian Chris. And wonderful it was to spend some time with her, although in true Vikinga form she pointed out a dock as we reached town and said "This is where we left from to invade your lot."

I thinking I'm going to be visiting the Haugesund (think Guilford with heavy industry) to see Norwegian Chris quite a bit, and consequently, having learnt the new parlance which has come into fashion while I was in South America, I am concern how I shall "off set my carbon footprint". However, as all laws of man and nature have a loophole somewhere, I think I might have found it in this case: due to climate change Norway is actually becoming more forested, (soon the landscape around the fjords will change completely), so like some sort of Escher puzzle, by flying in I'm actually encouraging tree growth, so am I off setting or not? But in all seriousness, I've heard so much about carbon footprints although no one I've asked has yet told me how you do actually off set it...


May I see your pastries?

Also, due to the likely frequency of my visits to the land of my forefathers (possibly), I am attempting to learn Norwegian - I leapt from the plane shouting "Jeg er hjemme" I am home... I can wait to visit Voss. Mind you, the many and varied books and CD's I have got hold of are a little limited. It was only on my way back as I looked through the only phrase book I have found so far, that I noticed it had the word for "bobbing pin" (answers on a postcard, I have no idea what one is) and then discovered the book was compiled in 1957, in America.

Other gems in the book are:
Soap flakes
Flashbulbs
Typewriter ribbon
A carbon paper
Evening dress
May I have this dance?
Can you please play a foxtrot?
You are hurting me
I am going to my stateroom
I need something for a tourniquet
Bathing cap
Garters
A finger wave
Please show me some cigarette cases
I want to rent a deck chair
Please regulate my watch for me

I also like that under the “restaurant” section they have "Where can I wash up?" I really hope this is for the benefit of the financially embarrassed rather than obsessively cleanly clientele.


Oh well… work tomorrow

Cat

My mum's cat has learnt that my mum can't remember if she's fed him or not, so he eats his food quickly and then pretends he hasn't had any yet, and gets two dinners.

I've started doing this as well.

We're both getting a bit lardy.

London Life Reborn(e)

In the last couple of weeks one of the things I’ve missed about being on my trip in South America is sitting down and writing up a few lines about recent adventures… so I’ve decided to carry on and see what this blog develops into now I’m back home.

Otherwise, there is so much I miss about South America, (not altogether surprisingly a great number revolving around food), but here are a couple of things that I had to get used to arriving back at home in London after a year away:

Everyone looks a bit sick

Restaurant menus have flamboyant descriptions

People are more outwardly aggressive or they passively ignore what is going on around them

My clothes smell of cigarette smoke after spending any time in the pub

My clothes are actually clean to start off with however

Dogs don’t wear T-shirts

Drinks don’t come in bags

Receiving telephone calls felt weird at first

Toilet paper goes in the bowl not the bucket

People are wearing parkas again

"Carbon Footprint" is one bit of new jargon people are using

It’s all a bit too dark, cold and rainy

Christmas with the family, New Year with the Viking
Christmas passed relatively quietly, at home, with only a couple of disruptions. Firstly the disappearance of a pack of sausages wrapped in bacon, perhaps not something ordinarily worth worrying about, but it did lead to accusations of forgetfulness, senility and theft between all those present.

The second exciting event was the arrival of Tonnelle LaShonya, delivered of Elle and my brother in Brooklyn, and weighing in at a healthy 8lbs 2oz. Welcome to the clan you wrinkly beggar!

And then I managed to let slip to my other niece that there was no Father Christmas… look I’m the youngest, my brothers made sure I had no chance to believe in him, so it’s never been an issue not to talk about it….OK, OK, no excuses, I’m a terrible uncle.

New Year also passed off quite peacefully in the company of the Reverend and the CatInTheHat, AND Norwegian Chris, who made a flying visit to London (Hurrah!!), who I tried to make feel at home with a surfeit of sweet Norwegian brown cheese. So I’ve got to get myself over to Norway, the land of sheep head and mashed lung and other such treats, and home of my ancestors, possibly, although that might turn out to be Perros-Guirec after all.

As the New Year crept on I have been able to catch up spending time with many old friends, and it has been wonderful - although this has also included drinking too much beer in far too large quantities. I have also spent a lot of time re-assembling some kind of wardrobe, which has coincided with me having to start thinking about a return to work – more on that as it happens.

Not really sure how this will unfold, but come back and keep reading…