22nd July, 2011

I wish there was a sheepish way that I could write “Hello there”. I must say I am feeling a touch guilty at the length of respite I have given you from this drivel. If by any chance you have missed it I apologise. Fact is an important client engagement a couple of Fridays ago down at Wentworth ago got in the way and last week I was in Corfu.

It was the first time for a while we have had the whole family together for a holiday, by which I mean, Hen graced us with her presence. What can I say? Holiday’s in the sun with Hen are stressful experiences largely because she insists on demanding of us, on an hourly basis, whether she is getting browner. The sad reality is she really doesn’t change colour. Pale and interesting I suppose is the phrase I am looking for. Larking about in the pool playing sharks and dolphins she was referred to as the Great White. Actually that was just one of many little witticisms I came up with last week. I was on the most terrific form though I say it myself. For example, when Hen decided to smuggle away the scallop shells ( she said they were to store her earrings but I have seen them frequently used as ashtrays ) on which had been served some Greek seafood delicacy in napkins, and stowed them away between her legs on her seat whilst we finished dinner, she wondered what would happen if she was caught. “I wouldn’t worry” I said, “they’ll just assume you have CLAMydia.” How we roared.

By the way, if you think I am occasionally a little disparaging of my eldest daughter we met up with friends in Corfu whose eldest had not come with them. “And a very good thing too” her mother said. “She’d have eaten us out of house and home. She’s as large as a villa. She looks like an Oompa Loompa tree.”

Hey ho. Well it didn’t take long for the restorative benefits of a holiday and my ebullient disposition to wear off. A chastening week one way or another. I think I have told you before about my Atco lawn mower. Bought for £800 a few years back it had sat forlornly rusting in a shed for three years having failed to effect the lovely stripes I was expecting of it. I thought I would give it one more chance so at a cost of £350 it got the mother of all services and blades finely sharpened, but yet again all it managed to do was carve great chunks out of my front garden. To be honest I would have stuck by it. It had this nice seat on the back and a roller which I am sure in time would have flattened out the bumps and created the lawn tennis court I aspired to, however it was not to be. At Mrs S’s insistence I took some fine photographs, which I think probably flattered my machine, but imagine my consternation when, badly advised on Ebay strategy by a colleague who has happily since left our desk, my beloved Atco went for the princely sum of £150. I suppose it was some consolation that it went to the vicar of some parish in St Albans, but talk about feeling pillaged.

Things have gone from bad to worse since then it has to be said, but enough of that for this forum. And anyway, you can always depend on Hen to put things into perspective. Returning on Wednesday, the low point of my week, from a day in Scotland, on a delayed Easyjet flight, I rang home to tell them I would be back at 7.40pm. It was Hen who answered. “You’re cutting it a bit fine aren’t you Dave?” “Why?” I replied with that kind of sinking feeling in my stomach that my week was going to take another lurch downwards. “Durr Dave. The Wizards of Waverly Place starts at 7.45pm. Put your bloody foot down.”

24th June, 2011

You probably didn’t know I had a daughter called Jimmy. Searching through past editions of this pile of babble of mine I discover I have mentioned her just once during my time at Nomura. That was when I related that all she could come up with by way of a Christmas stocking present for her mother, given a supremely generous budget and two hours to browse round John Lewis Cambridge branch, was a nasty plastic washing up brush shaped like a cat. Various people have been surprised by this revelation before you though. There was a fine example the other day when an earnest mother came up to us at a school function and said it was just terrific that her daughter had made friends with Jimmy. “She’s never had a boy-friend before you know” she told us excitedly. I quite enjoyed bursting that bubble! Anyway, Jemima has been in London this week doing work experience. Fixing that up was a saga in itself I can tell you. Fancying herself as something of a writer with a fine sense for fashion she gave me strict instructions to arrange a week or two for her in the West End at Conde Nast or Harpers & Queen. What I came up with in the end was not quite what she had in mind. A spell at “Insurance Insider” magazine based in Lime Street, EC3. Provider of insight and intelligence on the London and international insurance markets. She seems to have taken it in her stride though and I would even have said with good grace except for the terse summons received by text that I should meet her for lunch “outside my office”.

On the subject of interns I have just been informed that one is joining our team on Monday.......havn’t met him before. This was a leaving present from my former colleague Bruce. A mathematician ( oooops; speaking as someone who scraped through Maths O level on the third attempt ) who had a spell with the Austrian Army, likes dancing and does Iron Man contests. Ah.....at least we have something in common. I can talk to him about my forthcoming attempt at the Jungfrau Marathon.

Hey ho. If you are winding down for the week I have something different to ease you into the weekend. I thought you might like to have a browse through this website. My, Hen has been busy. Nothing like being broke to focus the mind. If she has not yet put down in words the sort of blog I had envisaged when she set off on her travels she will say a picture is worth a thousand. If one catches your eye let her know. She will put it in a cool frame, sign it and send it to you....at a price! An early Christmas present and perfect for the downstairs loo!

http://hensandison.blogspot.com/2011/06/south-east-asia.html

1st July, 2011

I knew it was fool hardy and quite out of character, but as I was pulling out of Harlow Town station this morning, a little disgruntled at the fat guy in paint overalls who helped himself, undoubtedly ticketless, to our First Class carriage, I decided to post what I was thinking on Facebook. Nothing to do with the carpenter. “I’ll tell you what’s on my mind.” I wrote, “Andy Murray. Why do you all hate him so much? He’s misunderstood. And he’s going to beat Nadal today without a doubt.” Nothing too controversial then, but my stupid Blackberry has barely stopped pinging all day long as yet another bigoted Englishman or woman launches one broadside after another at me. Honestly. Get a life. So anyway, although I am quite confident about my Murray prediction, I had better get my Friday email out of the way to allow me to focus on our man’s progress into the finals.

Talking of distractions I have had another major one this week in the form of a series of emails from an interesting man who, together with his daughter, is kindly hosting Jimmy ( second Friday mention in a row for her ) and six other school friends on a post GCSE jolly in Marrakesh. As you know I am quite a fan of blogs, and his emails together with a series of accompnaying photos that I'll spare the public eye, have been entertaining although I am going to be very happy to have her safely home.

"A promonard followed (attachments 011 & 012) and an early night was
> requested. Albeit with some Arabic Music with three accompanying
> belly-dancers, in our amazing digs, helped along with a little
> dressing up from souvineer purchases! (Attachment 013)."

"Fully enguageing, fully embracing the culture."

"Once kitted out by the boys from Splash (Yann and Ishmail)................. the fun starts. (see attachment 004).
Absolutely hillarious..... the girls had so much fun that it became the topic of conversation for the rest of the day."

"Having decended several kilometers of the Ourika Valley Gorge we hit an unanticipated obstacle; local loggers were also ceasing the opportunity to send logs down the gorge so I aired on the side of caution and we evacuated. Some of the logs were like engine blocks and were really travelling."


Starting with distracting and having moved on to the disconcerting, the last two nights have certainly been that. On both evenings, at around 9.30pm, having bathed ( or at least pretended to ), teeth and hair brushed ( aye right ) and kissed us all goodnight, Bob, our 13 year old, has reappeared downstairs, covered in blood and feathers, gleefully demanding the £2 that Sophie has foolishly promised him for each pigeon he shoots that had been happily roosting and cra*ping in the tree above her Toyota. What have we created?

Ok. Let’s get on with it. COME ON ANDY.