Lifestyle Envy

I'm not going to lie, my life is pretty good. I live in a nice house close to some spectacular countryside. I have hobbies which are both fun and rewarding, good friends and a lovely girlfriend. OK I could do with a job sooner rather than later and I wouldn't object to another car (even if it's not one of the ones on my previous list). There are things I would change given the opportunity but, on the whole, I've got a pretty good lot.

All that said, I have a huge case of lifestyle envy. I wrote a while ago about a demonstration of gundogs and gundog training that I saw at an agricultural show. A massive pack of absolutely stunning labradors and spaniels of all ages, all of whom were impeccably behaved. They obeyed every command with interest and almost before it was issued. Amazing animals. They were owned and trained by a husband and wife team in Scotland.

A few months later and my dad paid them a visit with his next-door neighbour. The neighbours are thinking of getting a dog and dad went up because they are willing (hoping) to look after it from time to time - especially when the neighbours are at work since dad is retired. I suggested these guys because, as well as breeding the dogs and training them as working dogs, they sell dogs of various ages and various levels of training. This would be ideal for them as they have two young kids so a pre-trained dog would remove a lot of the stress of the initial phases as well as coming with a guarantee that they are good with kids (then again when are labradors ever not?)

Dad reported back the results of the trip today. First and foremost, the dogs are as amazing as I remember. he was most disappointed that he couldn't take all of them back with him (so was I come to that). The dogs apparently live the life of Riley in the highlands being doted on and running over the hills and glens. Apart from the dogs, the house sounds wonderful. I'm not usually awfully fussed by housey stuff but the idea of a sprawling farmhouse in the middle of nowhere (no other building could be seen in any direction) surrounded by hills, glens and lochs sounds idyllic - although I might have to change the aga. In addition to it being picturesque, it gives justification to owning the two landrovers in the drive. So to recap, idyllic home in the Scottish countryside with two fantastic landrovers and the day job involves spending most of your time marching over the hills with some magnificent dogs. Oh and just to cap it off, the wife of the owner is absolutely stunning and a trained chef to boot.

I'm sure after reading this, you can understand why I have a degree of lifestyle envy. Do you blame me? Part of me really wants to start a business like this myself but I lack a) the startup capital, b) the requisite knowledge of dog training (although I'm working on remedying this) and c) the contacts in the country sports world needed to make the business a viable proposition.

Ah well, it's nice to have dreams none the less. Perhaps one day!

JR

Postage in the UK

The postal service in the UK is an interesting beast. I wish I could write at length about it being an unqualified success. Doing so however would be more than a little untruthful. When sending mundane crap, it usually performs spectacularly; letter in post box one day. A day or so later, the letter is received. However as soon as something important is put on in the post, the whole system seems to slow down and the item is only  received the day you start seriously contemplating that it could be lost.

There are ways round this of course. Services are available whereby things have to be signed for. Orders can be tracked and there is a next day guaranteed delivery. All of these cost a lot of money though (especially given first class is supposed to guarantee next day delivery anyway) and in the  case of tracked mail, it only shows if the letter has been sent or delivered (or if sending overseas, if it left the UK) which isn't always much use. At best, it can be used as proof of postage should any problems arise with the item not being delivered or being delivered late.

Despite this, I would say it was a reasonable system. Being able to send stuff to pretty much any point in the UK and being reasonably sure it will get there within 48 hours is a decent deal. Being able to do so with the small effort of sticking on a stamp and ambling down to the local post-box (even these days still located on many street corners) is even better still.

Where the service falls down in a big way is when anything bigger than a letter is being sent. Firstly sending the item can be a bit of a pain. It involves queueing up at the local post office which are getting scarcer and queues are getting longer. Once you get to the front of the queue, you are faced with a raft of different sending options and the person behind the desk invariably being unable to read your writing (which is strange given there have never been any problems with normal envelopes). Despite this, the price for sending even large and heavy items is usually reasonable.

The biggest problem is delivery. Getting hold of your parcel can be an absolute bloody nightmare. As soon as something doesn't fit through the letter box or needs to be signed for, a world of problems open up. You wouldn't think it would be that hard... the postie knocks on your door. If you're in, you answer it and pick it up. If you're out, they leave a note and you can collect it: better still they could leave it with your neighbours.

Sadly this is a bit optimistic. Sometimes the postie will knock and, if the door isn't opened, will leave a card saying that they called, nobody was around and the parcel was taken back to the local sorting office for later collection. So far so good. Sometimes however, the card is delivered without actually knocking on the door. I have had this happen to me a couple of times. I have even managed to get to the door before the postie left, once to be completely ignored, once to be told that he did not in fact have the parcel. To be honest, irritating as this is, I don't entirely blame the people delivering the mail. Most deliveries are still done on foot or by bike so I don't really blame them for trying to lighten the load - especially around christmas time when everyone does their shopping on line. Things are made worse by the fact that they are given punishing delivery schedules to adhere to which would make fully-trained marines wince at the pace. What does annoy me is that there isn't a more efficient system to prevent this happening.

Now assuming you get one of these infernal cards; how do you go about getting your parcel. On the face of it, it looks easy. You either pop down to your local delivery office or phone up and get it re-delivered. Let's start with the re-delivery as it sounds like the best option right? Wrong. Usually they only give a 48 hour window which means it's almost impossible to schedule it outside of office hours making it more likely you will be around. Nor can you arrange for it to be delivered to a different address; work for example. Once, in desperation, I asked for it to be delivered to another sorting office (which I passed on a daily basis) only to be informed that this is impossible.

What about collection? Well in my first flat in London this wasn't too bad. The collection office was round the corner and for the entire time I lived there, I was either a student or working locally so I could go in at odd times and miss the long queues. That was however far too good to be true. My next collection office was obviously designed by MI5 being nearly impossible to find. It was hidden at the end of what looked like a residential cul de sac and about half a mile from where the post code suggested it would be. Super!

Now for the business of collecting it. The little card makes it explicitly clear that a certain amount of time must have elapsed before collection. Do not try to circumvent this. The word on the card is law. Furthermore, it makes explicitly clear that the card must be presented at the delivery office along with proof of ID. I almost understand the logic of this. You don't really want to be dishing out people's parcels to anybody but surely a bit of common sense could be applied. For example, possession of the card surely indicates you either live with the recipient or it has been given to you by the recipient therefore it is reasonably safe to hand the item over. This would have let my flatmate drop into the collection office seeing as he passed it on his way to work. However I do accept erring on the side of security. Where it gets really stupid is the presentation of the card. Bear in mind, no unique numbers or codes are on this; just your name and address. Yet, for some reason, it MUST be presented to claim your parcel. It is not good enough to turn up with proof that you are who you say you are and you live where you say you live. Still you must hand over this meaningless bit of card. No card. No parcel. Who the hell thought this one up. It can't be an anti-fraud device. It simply must be an anti-sense device.

All this rising tension culminates nicely in an experience I had a week or so ago, not long after I moved house. I had a bit of a shopping spree on Amazon and was awaiting the various bits and pieces. Mid morning coffee I heard a knock at the door. I hurry downstairs (we have an upstairs living-room) and fumble with the keys to open the door. As I open it, I see the postman writing up a card. He looks up, smiles and says, "Morning mate. You JR?"

"Yeah" I reply somewhat thickly since I hadn't really spoken to anyone that day.

"Great, here you go then." he says and hands over a pile of parcels before cheerfully saying, "Have a good day!" and strolling off.

I stand in the door for a second slightly nonplussed, my caffeine starved brain trying to compute what's just happened: cheerful, friendly postman... little missed delivery card... handing over my stuff with no fuss... FANTASTIC! It put me in a good mood for the rest of the day. I did try and give the Royal Mail some positive feedback after this in the hope that it would continue and others could benefit from my good-fortune. However, for some reason the only feedback the website is geared up to receive is complaints. Never mind.

I hope someone at the Royal Mail reads this and realises that little things like this are deeply appreciated.

JR

Prince Harry Pt II

Since Prince Harry was caught with his pants down last week there has been a swelling of public support. The general mood amongst the population (apart from those that seem to have outrage as a default setting) ranges from "good man", to "leave the lad alone".

One particular gesture of public support that came to my attention was a facebook group and website where people published pictures of themselves naked (or in various states of undress) and saluting in support. It's amazing what a regimental tie can conceal! If you want to see some more on the story have a look here.

All I can say to that is well done! It makes me proud to be British. Not only do we support our young royals having a bit of fun, we do it by gently taking the piss out of the po-faced fun police who try and suck the joy out of life for the sake of a few column inches. Keep it up (so to speak!).

JR

The Edinburgh Festival

Today is the last day of the Edinburgh festival. From today mime artists, street performers and makers of odd-looking jewellery will be returning to their corner of the earth (and possibly their day job). Comedians will, from now, begin work on their shows for the fringe next year and try to piece together what happened this year from pictures on facebook. Some careers will have started, others will have ended and some will be no different from the state they were in before. The barkeepers of Edinburgh will be considerably richer than they were before.

In principle, I think the fringe is a great idea. Well known and successful comedians can ply their trade to their adoring fans in intimate venues. Beginners in comedy can learn from the masters. People can be entertained both for a price and for free. It's possible to see multiple big names in one day, equally you can go to a gig with less than 10 people in attendance with the thrill that the performer might be the "next big thing". The whole thing is one great big f*ck off party to which everyone is invited. Round about the centre of town, you can reasonably expect to bump into some seriously big names in the world of comedy, have a drink, then wonder up the street and see some mates from uni performing on the street stage; possibly via buying a CD of some odd music you've seen some street performer play a minute ago.

Despite this, my experience of the Fringe has always been somewhat lukewarm. Having grown up on the outskirts of Edinburgh, the festival always spelled an unwelcome swell in tourist traffic (I know it's antisocial but there you go - good preparation for living in London I suppose).  However the reasons go deeper than this. My first real encounters with the fringe on my own were when I was about 14. Unfortunately it was battling my way through crowds and street performers to go and visit my dad in hospital. Pretty much the last thing I wanted to come face to face with was an obnoxiously loud street performer or yet another crowd.

Despite the poor start I persevered. I saw some great shows. Some comedians I have followed and admired for years have entertained me... Marcus Brigstoke's rant on the subject of iphones was worth several hundred times what I paid for it. The rest of the show was rather good too. Lucy Porter too was fantastic. Like everyone else that has ever seen her, I think I fell a little bit in love with her. However most of my trips to the festival have almost always ended with a massive argument with my then girlfriend. I doubt the two are related but the two are sort of linked in my mind.

However good the shows I've seen have been, one thing I have always been left with at the festival is a slight sense of anticlimax. After hearing so many stories of riotous occurrences at the fringe, I always feel mine never quite match up. The feeling that an almighty party is going on somewhere but I'm just not quite sure where. Not to mention the feeling that I ought to be having so much more of a good time than I am.

This is a bit of an odd feeling. Usually, I do my best to live life as much on my own terms as possible and not worry too much about the goings on around me. After all, we can only really live our own lives so getting worked up about how much others seem to be enjoying themselves seems a bit pointless. For some reason, the fringe seems to circumvent this aspect to my personality. Perhaps it's because the festival is so famous and notorious.

Perhaps unsurprisingly I had similar feelings about my first freshers week. Like every other new student, I marched into my halls filled with tales of other's drunken debauchery, sexual misadventure  and hazy memories of good times. I had a great freshers week. Some of it was drunken, some did involve adventures with girls but throughout a dim part of my consciousness was wondering if I was doing it right. After all, I remember all of it! Lots of booze was drunk but I did not wake up in any gutters or in some random part of town and I did manage to attend breakfast every morning and scheduled events during the day. Perhaps I'm just being paranoid!

JR

Lottery Win

As always happens when some British person has a huge win on Euromillions (close on £150 million last week) my idle fantasy thoughts turn to what I would splash out on if money suddenly became, in essence, unlimited.

First things first I would give my parents a decent chunk so my mum could retire and they could have a truly indulgent retirement. Following on from that would be some fairly substantial donations to charities I feel particularly passionately about. What about self-indulgence?

From previous posts I've covered pens and watches in great detail. Some houses would inevitably feature; I'm aware my ideal location would be Chelsea backed up with somewhere remote in the home counties and somewhere even more remote in Perthsire or the highlands. So far so good but being a bloke, I haven't really troubled my consciousness too much with the thought of houses. As you can see, location matters. I'm also rather partial to a study like M's office in the early Bond films (think leather-topped partner's desk, wood panelling, old books and a globe drinks cabinet with a fire and a chesterfield sofa) but interior design has never been my thing. Similarly clothes; I would still be on the smarter side of casual except the shirts would be from Turnbull and Asser and the suits, trousers, sportsjackets, etc would come from Saville Row (Gieves and Hawks probably, or Anthony Sinclair).

So far so decadent but one of the areas of self-indulgence I've given most thought to is, of course, the top ten cars to have in the garage. My list in no particular order is:

Landrover 110 Defender
Range Rover Vogue  (the one with the drinks cabinet in the back)
Aston Martin DB9
Aston Martin DB5
Jaguar Mark IV (the Inspector Morse one)
Jaguar E-type
Ferrari F355
Bugatti Veyron
Rolls Royce Phantom (one of the classic models, the new one is a bit square for my taste)
A Bently of some sort

Most of the choices are self-explanatory: the mark IV - one of the best looking cars ever built, the E-type... well it's an E-type, the DB5 is the ultimate Bond car and the Veyron is a piece of engineering history. What about the others? Well the 355 was my boyhood dream car. It might not be the best looking, it's certainly not the fastest but every time I see one my heart rate speeds up a few notches. The DB9 makes the list because it was the original of the new-design Astons. It was the first one to go from looking pretty (DB7) to truly sublime. Again there are newer models, there are faster models and there are probably more reliable models but the DB9 still hits the spot. It also has the magical prefix "DB". The Rolls and the Bently I will lump together: both stunningly good looking and the last word in luxury and comfort. A bit of an anomaly on the list is the 110. A theme with the others is certainly looks backed up with a bit of grunt. The 110 is ugly, slow and uncomfortable. However it will also go pretty much anywhere the nose is pointed and regardless of what's in between you and your destination. That's cool. Perhaps it might stay up in the Highlands though.

So what to use on a daily basis? Bluntly, I would plump for the Rolls or the Bentley with someone else driving. With it's heavy traffic and draconian speed limits (with zealous enforcement) the UK is hardly a fun place to drive. Yes there are some wonderful twisting country roads where you could challenge the performance of the more exotic cars without exceeding the speed limit but for day-to-day stuff having a driver would be great. You could be dropped off at the door of your destination, have a pint or two if it took your fancy then read a book or watch a DVD if the traffic got you. What's not to like? And if I had to drive myself? I would probably go for the Range Rover. Although the off-road performance is stunning I strongly suspect I would be one of those that never took it anywhere dirtier than a field. They are however enormously comfortable and well made, their suspension will iron out the pot holes and speed bumps nicely, it's powerful enough to give performance when needed and I like a raised driving position; it's nice to be able to see what's going on around me. Most importantly of all though; it's big. Really big. Huge in fact. This is a rather critical quality and one of the main reasons (I think) why people in cities by four by fours. It's nothing to do with notional off-road performance etc and everything to do with size. Driving a car like that gives you space (you've seen it on the tube and trains; people arranging themselves to take up as much space as possible). In a crowded environment, personal space is not to be underestimated and this is certainly the car equivalent. A big car gives you your own oasis where the only people close to you are those you want to be there, you can choose what you listen to and what the temperature is. What could be better?

Right, enough of the self-indulgent stuff. What would I do if the magic numbers turned up? Would I still pursue a career in law? Honestly, that would be highly unlikely. Other people need the job and why do something so demanding when you don't have to? I would however probably train as a special constable and as ambulance crew for St. John Ambulance. I see both as ways of giving something back to society and doing something useful but with the added benefit of it being voluntary so I can have much more say over when I am on duty and what I do. I also believe charity is about more than giving money and donation of time is enormously valuable. I would certainly explore my ideas for writing in a bit more detail (well I have to use the magnificent desk mentioned before for something) and use the time to learn new skills and polish old ones; I've always fancied getting my bike and my pilot's licence as well as learning a martial art. I also fancy dusting off the goggles and going skiing again. My girlfriend and I have also agreed that, if the big win comes, we will start a dog rescue centre. We both love dogs and this would be an ideal way to share the good-fortune. Not only would some deserving animals get well looked after but it's also a way of creating jobs for the local community as employing others to help out would be essential. This would also be a good way to start exploring my interest in dog training. Ideally (and I have no idea how practical this is) I think it would be wonderful to train some of the rescue dogs as "therapy dogs" that can go into hospitals, care homes and even the houses of the elderly and infirm and provide the particular brand of happiness that only a dog can give. It's just an idea but, I think, a good one (and on that note, if anyone reading this has the cash to start a similar enterprise then feel free to borrow the idea).

Right, after all that, I'm off to buy a ticket!

JR

Prince Harry Partying

So Prince Harry has been caught with his pants down... literally. While on holiday in Vegas (where else) Captain Wales has been photographed playing "strip billiards" and literally wearing a rather lovely, equally naked, young lady.

Naturally some commentators are up in arms about this behaviour decrying it as shocking and immoral. My thoughts; good lad! Yes he may be third in line to the throne which does have some implications. He is also the holder of one of Her Majesty's commissions and entrusted with serious amounts of Apache helicopter. However in this context, he is a young man, away with mates and letting his hair down (and let's face it, having had to endure the olympics, he deserves it). Anyway, getting naked and getting off with beautiful women is virtually in the job description of Cavalry officers. It could be argued that his brother, Prince William, would not do the same but his circumstances are considerably different. Firstly, he is due to inherit the throne at some point in the future. Short of his untimely death, this will happen and places the burden of history on his shoulders even now. Secondly, and even more pertinently, he is married to one of the most beautiful women on the planet so why on earth would he want to?

The point is, he is a single guy in his mid-20s doing as single guys in their mid-20s do. Would I do the same? If I was single and the context was right, quite probably. If the area had the reasonable expectation of privacy and the girls were happy enough with the situation then why not? It only becomes inappropriate if any of the parties get uncomfortable or it is likely to cause offence.

Yes, this behaviour may cause offence to observers and commentators however ultimately, it is not really any of their business. Yes, he is part of a public institution and has a role within it. However, when he has been operating within the context of being a member of the Royal family, he has conducted himself impeccably by showing a great degree of humility and humanity while still having respect for the institution. Being part of the public institution does have a degree of public ownership associated but it would be a mistake to think that the public own every aspect of Prince Harry's life. This is simply not the case, nor should it be. So let the guy have some fun. It's not doing anyone any harm.

Or could it be that those that are outraged are simply jealous?

JR

Tea

Tea. The fuel of the British Empire. The cure of all ills. The ultimate social lubricant and probably the most popular drink in the U.K.

Did you know that tea was apparently one of the greatest catalysts to entertaining others in one's own home? A tea fact that I saw on some obscure documentary (if you really want a reference, leave a comment and I will look it up - or you could just take my word for it!).

Another tea fact I read in a scientific paper during my final year at school when I was investigating caffeine contents of drinks: tea actually contains more caffeine than coffee however it also has other compounds in it which have a soporific effect meaning the net stimulation is actually less.

Tea was also a great source of torment for Arthur Dent in Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy. After having his planet blown up and while suffering a slight hangover, Dent seeks a cup of tea to steady his nerves only to discover that Earth is apparently the only place in the universe where it can be obtained!

It may surprise you to hear that James Bond, an individual generally thought of as British to the core hated tea. He described it as, "mud" in Goldfinger.

I have a slightly odd relationship with tea. I essentially trained myself to like it when I was about 17. There is method to my madness. I love coffee. The good stuff. Not instant and certainly not the pseudo-italian bollocks peddled on most high streets. Good filter coffee ideally of South American extraction. My current coffee of choice is the Asda extra special Brazilian one. It offers a full, rich flavour, a lovely aroma and a pleasant after-taste. It is also reasonably priced so my bank balance can cope with the volumes I consume! Ideally I would be on a diet of freshly-ground Jamaican Blue Mountain but given it's slightly more expensive than similar volumes of diamonds (OK I may be exaggerating slightly but you get the idea) that's not going to happen any time soon. My point is, I trained myself to like tea so I could partake in the social ritual of consuming brewed beverages without having to risk bad coffee.

It started off well. Teabag. Milk. Hot water. Sorted! No fuss, no drama. Then a bit of sugar went in if I was particularly tired or hungover. Again still no huge deal. However then I made my fatal mistake. I let my natural curiosity for everything consumable take over. I'm going to blow my own trumpet a bit here and say I think I have quite a good palette. I enjoy comparing flavours and discovering the subtle differences. My varyingly successful cooking and cocktail making experiments have generally shown I can just about understand and mix flavours. So why did I assume I could turn off this side of my personality when it came to tea?

I was of course aware that there were many types of tea but I thought if I stuck ruthlessly to the teabag, milk, water, occasional sugar formula I would be fine. No such luck I'm afraid. My first foray was green tea (on the advice was a good hangover cure). I can't say it overly impressed me but it did taste totally different from the stuff I had been drinking thus far. That started the experimentation.

From there I discovered most herbal teas smelled of cheap pout pourri and tasted of hot water (apart from camomile tea which tastes, in my opinion, of stagnant bathwater), Earl Grey has a pleasant citrus edge to is, Assam is pleasingly rich and Lapsang suchon (I think that's how it's spelled) has a lovely smoky quality to it. I have even had something called gunpowder tea (well wouldn't you) which was served as a pellet that vigorously and rapidly expanded and broke apart when hot water was added. The flavour had a spicy edge to it but was nothing special, the main effect was visual.

I still think the specialist tea cafes populated and staffed almost exclusively by pretty posh girls are unbearably pretentious but I do rather enjoy finding market stalls selling speciality teas, not to mention treating my mind in Fortnum and Mason.

Has the interest stopped with amassing a collection of tea bags? Of course not. I enjoy novelty in process (hence fountain pens and shaving brushes) so the opportunity to get more things to fiddle with and generally add complexity and detail to an event was too good to miss. A teapot and tea strainer have now been purchased and I'm experimenting with ways to make the perfect cup.

So much for learning to like it as a simple option!

I will leave you with a story from when I was a student and working residentially with kids in my summer holidays. I was on bedtime duty so was marching round trying to make sure the little darlings were tucked up (alone) in bed. Plaintive cries with various excuses to stay up just a little bit later were ignored, games consoles confiscated and lights turned out (I had yet to deploy my ultimate sanction of a run at 6 the following morning for those that just wouldn't cooperate but I was coming close). For moral support I had a large mug of sweet tea (it was huge, much bigger and it would have needed a lifeguard to supervise it). The beer was to come later once this lot were all asleep. At one point I encountered a group of girls ambling back from the bathroom at an excessively slow pace, brandishing toothbrushes and generally daring me to challenge them. As they were decent kids and I knew that once they were in their room they would be quiet and fall asleep quite quickly, I decided to ignore them. I also thought that a challenge would prolong the entire process and delay me getting into the staff room and getting my feet up. As they were passing, one of the more precocious ones reached out and deftly plucked the cup from my hand. No doubt thinking that the mug contained some sort of exotic booze she too a huge swig. Her expression of pure disappointment when she found out it was simply a mug of Tetley's finest will stay with me for a long time!

JR