Today
I was very happy to talk to my brother the other day and learn that he's definitely been chosen to represent Britain playing bridge at Beijing in October.
It's easy to forget that some less athletic sports have their Olympics as well. My brother is firmly of the opinion that bridge is wholly a game of skill, success being dependent on how you manage the cards and on the language and intuition you develop with your partner.
He's always loved bridge, but many years running his business forced him to take a lower profile. Now he's able to rediscover his full potential.
In My Day
Earlier blogs will show that I'm no card player. And when my brother decided to make bridge his life, rather than his hobby back in 1969 or thereabouts it didn't seem quite real.
For part of the of time he worked at a club on the Kilburn road called Stefan's. As well as offering members hospitality he also played for the club; a delicate balancing act involving much tact and skill.
Somehow I found myself involved in the periphery of this strange world. I was asked to provide design ideas for its decoration and refurbishment, which I did, although I never followed up this interior design opportunity.
I frequently worked in the tiny little kitchen making tea, coffee, sandwiches and light snacks. These were taken while playing and I would carry the orders into the upper room. Here members, bleary-eyed from too much smoking, drinking and bridge playing into the early hours would sit, frittering away their lives, when they could have been earning good money as doctors and lawyers. It was a world of unopened curtains and windows, a perpetual half-light which seemed to carry through into the flats in which many of them lived, in Maida Vale, Highgate or St John's Wood.
They none of them seemed to have children or other responsibilities and all seemed to have dingy complexions and many of the men had roving hands.
I can't say that I was sorry when other work opportunities came my way. And I must say that, despite his passion for the game, my brother remained level-headed enough not to get sucked in.
The very best of luck in Beijing, bruv!
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Law & Order
Today
The kitties have been rather unruly today. Earlier they discovered, like the Andrex puppy, how to pull down all the toilet roll . That must have surprised them.
During lunch, while we were trying to stop Albinoni climbing onto the table and eating the pickled onions, Agnes was exploring the joys of playing with the fineline blind cords and finding out just how much they can be tangled up. Albinoni punctured Paul's legs trying to clamber up and he's learning how to avoid the trusty water spray used as a deterrent.
"They should be called 'The Bash St Kittens'", said Paul, half amused, half exasperated.
In My Day
At one time I really thought that I was going to become a teacher. In secondary schools, what's more. As part of my training I had to do teaching practice. In theory this was managed on-the-job work experience. What happened in reality was that you were given all the rubbish classes.
In the Summer of 1970, I was allocated to a Roman Catholic school in Bexhill. (An interesting choice given my lack of religious commitment.) I didn't mind managing sulky 15-years olds, but I met my match when I had to take the art class for a remedial group of 11-year olds. Nowadays they would be described as have "learning" or "behavioural" "difficulties" and receive special treatment. Then it was just the class all teachers avoided.
And I soon understood why. At first the class went all right, if a bit raggedly and we got some painting done. One little boy (and he was only a tiddler) threw something or other on the floor and I told him to pick it up. When he refused I spoke to him sharply.
His response was to start chucking art materials all over the room. Soon the rest were joining in, throwing brushes and paint pots out of the window and ripping paper. The floor was covered in multi-coloured rivers of paint and the noise was hideous. I had no idea how to restore calm and in the middle of it the bell went and all the children rushed, whooping with joy, out of the room.
I spent the next hour retrieving items from the playground and trying to clean up. And I felt too ashamed to put my head round the staffroom door.
Perhaps I should have used the water spray treatment on them!
The kitties have been rather unruly today. Earlier they discovered, like the Andrex puppy, how to pull down all the toilet roll . That must have surprised them.
During lunch, while we were trying to stop Albinoni climbing onto the table and eating the pickled onions, Agnes was exploring the joys of playing with the fineline blind cords and finding out just how much they can be tangled up. Albinoni punctured Paul's legs trying to clamber up and he's learning how to avoid the trusty water spray used as a deterrent.
"They should be called 'The Bash St Kittens'", said Paul, half amused, half exasperated.
In My Day
At one time I really thought that I was going to become a teacher. In secondary schools, what's more. As part of my training I had to do teaching practice. In theory this was managed on-the-job work experience. What happened in reality was that you were given all the rubbish classes.
In the Summer of 1970, I was allocated to a Roman Catholic school in Bexhill. (An interesting choice given my lack of religious commitment.) I didn't mind managing sulky 15-years olds, but I met my match when I had to take the art class for a remedial group of 11-year olds. Nowadays they would be described as have "learning" or "behavioural" "difficulties" and receive special treatment. Then it was just the class all teachers avoided.
And I soon understood why. At first the class went all right, if a bit raggedly and we got some painting done. One little boy (and he was only a tiddler) threw something or other on the floor and I told him to pick it up. When he refused I spoke to him sharply.
His response was to start chucking art materials all over the room. Soon the rest were joining in, throwing brushes and paint pots out of the window and ripping paper. The floor was covered in multi-coloured rivers of paint and the noise was hideous. I had no idea how to restore calm and in the middle of it the bell went and all the children rushed, whooping with joy, out of the room.
I spent the next hour retrieving items from the playground and trying to clean up. And I felt too ashamed to put my head round the staffroom door.
Perhaps I should have used the water spray treatment on them!
Sunday, August 03, 2008
A Lister
Today
There we were, Paul and I, in Tesco, picking up a few bits and pieces for the weekend. Just by the coleslaw a woman we'd never seen before bounced up to us with a huge smile.
"I know you!" She cried. "At least, I've seen you on the telly!" She became a bit embarrassed by her forwardness and stammered a little. "but you both look wonderful!" "But that was years ago" we said. "Ah well, I've been in Dubai." she said as if that explained everything.
"Well I've put all the weight back on," said Paul "Although I guess I carry it better..."
In My Day
"Diet Trials" started back in 2002. We answered an ad in the RT for overweight people who'd like to participate in a study of diet plans. Paul weighed about 120k and I about 85. We signed up and entered the weird world of reality TV.
We learnt how to make video diaries and how to act naturally when cameras followed us to Weight Watchers, parties, holidays, health checks and at home. As a jolly middle-aged couple who enjoyed more than a glass or two of wine we were good camera fodder and were apparently dubbed "The Boozy ..............." by the Beeb. We learnt how supposedly spontaneous actions were filmed again and again. "Would you mind just going out and coming back home again, Julia, just for the cameras?" the camera person would say. And our meals got cold while they had another go at filming.
We were interviewed by Eamon Holmes and met other key weight losers at the studios in London (why are these places never as glamorous as one imagines?). Our picture was in the papers, national and local, and Paul did a radio interview. All in all it was great fun. And we did lose weight - two stone each with Weight Watchers over the duration of the trials.
What we were unprepared for was being recognised and stopped - in the street, bars, restaurants, shops, airports at home and abroad. Generally people didn't say "excuse me." they just bounced up and asked us whether we still consumed wine (silly question) or told us off for having a plate of food at a buffet. Most people told us how great we looked. Our record in one day was on a shopping spree to Clark's Village in Street where we were topping up on smaller sized clothes. I think we were stopped about 15 times.
Interest fizzled as the programme became old news. But it did have about 6 million viewers in the UK and is rolled out on various UK Gold channels across the world, it seems, from time to time.
Perhaps the reason why it's so hard to keep the weight off is that it can never be as much fun again.
There we were, Paul and I, in Tesco, picking up a few bits and pieces for the weekend. Just by the coleslaw a woman we'd never seen before bounced up to us with a huge smile.
"I know you!" She cried. "At least, I've seen you on the telly!" She became a bit embarrassed by her forwardness and stammered a little. "but you both look wonderful!" "But that was years ago" we said. "Ah well, I've been in Dubai." she said as if that explained everything.
"Well I've put all the weight back on," said Paul "Although I guess I carry it better..."
In My Day
"Diet Trials" started back in 2002. We answered an ad in the RT for overweight people who'd like to participate in a study of diet plans. Paul weighed about 120k and I about 85. We signed up and entered the weird world of reality TV.
We learnt how to make video diaries and how to act naturally when cameras followed us to Weight Watchers, parties, holidays, health checks and at home. As a jolly middle-aged couple who enjoyed more than a glass or two of wine we were good camera fodder and were apparently dubbed "The Boozy ..............." by the Beeb. We learnt how supposedly spontaneous actions were filmed again and again. "Would you mind just going out and coming back home again, Julia, just for the cameras?" the camera person would say. And our meals got cold while they had another go at filming.
We were interviewed by Eamon Holmes and met other key weight losers at the studios in London (why are these places never as glamorous as one imagines?). Our picture was in the papers, national and local, and Paul did a radio interview. All in all it was great fun. And we did lose weight - two stone each with Weight Watchers over the duration of the trials.
What we were unprepared for was being recognised and stopped - in the street, bars, restaurants, shops, airports at home and abroad. Generally people didn't say "excuse me." they just bounced up and asked us whether we still consumed wine (silly question) or told us off for having a plate of food at a buffet. Most people told us how great we looked. Our record in one day was on a shopping spree to Clark's Village in Street where we were topping up on smaller sized clothes. I think we were stopped about 15 times.
Interest fizzled as the programme became old news. But it did have about 6 million viewers in the UK and is rolled out on various UK Gold channels across the world, it seems, from time to time.
Perhaps the reason why it's so hard to keep the weight off is that it can never be as much fun again.
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