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Showing posts from July, 2012

Five Ring Circus

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So they're here at last. The games have descended upon us. After a seven year wait we're now in the midst of the biggest sporting event to be staged on these shores for over half a century.   I have to confess that from the outset to not being a fanatical Olympic supporter. We have an amazing ability in this country to build things up, only to be let down. Our national football team are a perfect example. Every time a major tournament comes along, the papers scream out with their headlines of "England to victory" while any rational person looking on, even though they might metaphorically be standing so far away from the touchline that they can barely see the field, knows that the English football team is not the greatest in the world. As a result the fall and the disappointment are so much greater. And yet all Friday, my heart was aflutter in anticipation of what we would see on Friday evening at the Olympic stadium. Like many people I have some friends wh

Getting The Boot

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It is vital in any partnership that in order to keep things fresh you do new things together. So it was that in our 16th year together Mr Howle and I ventured forth yesterday to take part in our first car boot sale. We had quite a lot of stuff from when we emptied my Mum's house back in April. All the best things went to auction on Saturday and I'm anxious to be able to ring the auction house tomorrow and find out how they did. We didn't go along in best "Bargain Hunt "fashion as the Olympic torch was making its stately progress through Greenwich on Saturday morning and no doubt grinding everything to a halt in the process. This week we booked ourselves a premium pitch at the renowned Battersea boot which takes place every Sunday evidently. We loaded the car with several boxes of tea services, glass vases, and some nice objets d'art from the 30s and 50s, together with what one might call just general household rubbish that we have accumulated dur

Getting an Edge.

I'm always surprised that after standing up in front of people for over 40 years since my early appearances in school plays, I still get immeasurably nervous. Last Friday I had been asked to deliver a presentation on effective communication to the leadership team at a.k.a. Those keen witted amongst you will have spotted that that is the company that my partner Richard works for, and has done so for the last 10 years. Any presentation delivered to the leadership team was also going to be delivered to him. It's an irony that has not escaped me that I spend a great deal of my time working with people on presentation technique, how to cope with nerves, and how to deliver effective presentations. Indeed I have made a great deal of money out of it over the last 10 to 15 years. I know my stuff. I know that the things I say work. I know how effective the sessions can be. Yet suddenly called upon to deliver one to a group of highly creative people which would include the perso

Greasing the Wheel

So it just goes to show if you ask you get. I think the phrase I'm looking for is "it's the squeaky wheel gets the grease" The English tendency to moan or  suffer in silence is not one that has ever been one of the my most apparent traits.   Perhaps at times I err on the other side, complaining just a little too much. I'm probably the first to admit that as I've grown into my 50s I've been hit with a dawning realisation that Victor Meldrew was a real person. Take for example a call to my bank this week. Lloyds TSB. In a week when the banks are making the news changing the interest rates, mis-selling and generally conning the public out of every penny they possibly can at every possible opportunity, my bank have eventually listened to me. Just before we went on holiday at the beginning of June I received a letter from my "personal business manager" a lady called Anne Osborne who resides somewhere in the

A Window of Opportunity

One of the joys of a holiday is the rosy afterglow that you remain in for a few days after your return home. Last year I remember spending at least three days in the post holiday blues depression as I hadn't wanted to come home. This year however the holiday ran its natural arc and by the time the flight home came round I was ready. We had a great two weeks. Lots of relaxing, lying by the pool and soaking up the rays and a humongous amount of fabulous food. We went out exploring for a day in a jeep. We heaved ourselves up into the saddle and set off uphill and down river on a horse riding morning, and we threw a pool party at our villa on the final Friday that was probably even more fun than the one we held last year. Peter, Julia, Sam, Martin, Vivian, Dave, comedy Turkish waiter's, and even the redoubtable Janice all added to what was a two memorable weeks. It's hard to believe that as I sit here writing this on a Sunday lunchtime that it is literally only a