I hate the question - "Do you see the glass half full or half empty?" I never give a straight answer, which means I come across as a dick. Maybe I'm thinking too much about it.
If there is half a glass of water on the table, that is all I see. Half a glass of water. If I had just seen you fill it up - then it's half full. If you had just drunk half of it - then it's half empty. Otherwise it's just half a glass of water.
If you want to ask me if I'm an optimist or pessimist, then just come out and do so, instead of dragging out this tired, old, pointless analogy.
Wednesday 6 January 2010
Monday 4 January 2010
School Daze
It was only when a teacher told us not to sniff Tippex that it occured to us that it might be an interesting wheeze (so to speak).
Wednesday 9 December 2009
Pay For My Holiday!
I am increasingly asked to pay for other people's holidays. Now why on earth would I do that? Surely you wouldn't just pay for someone else to go gallivanting off round the world would you? Well, inadvertently you probably have.
I have, of course, got nothing against raising money for charity, but I have two issues with some tit asking me to sponsor them to walk the Great Wall of China.
1) It's not a challenge, given that the Great Wall Of China is essentially a road, and you're only walking 5 miles a day - you might as well ask me to sponsor you to walk up Watford High Street.
2) The first thousand pounds in sponsorship money you raise PAYS FOR YOUR HOLIDAY. So if you raise £1500 in total, you've essentially got a free holiday and only raised £500 for charity. I would therefore question your motivation.
Last April nine of us embarked upon a week long road trip around Europe. The challenge was to buy a banger for £500, and get round 12 countries in seven days. We then felt a bit guilty about essentially going on a week long piss-up - particularly as one of our best mates had cancer.
So we decided to get sponsorship from friends and family to make it look a little more responsible and raise money for a good cause. However, every single penny of that sponsorship money went to the charity. We each ended up spending about £700 on petrol, B&Bs, food etc etc. - none of it went towards the cost of us having a good time. And I think that's how it should be.
So all I'm saying here is that if you're thinking of doing a skydive, don't expect me to pay for it.
I have, of course, got nothing against raising money for charity, but I have two issues with some tit asking me to sponsor them to walk the Great Wall of China.
1) It's not a challenge, given that the Great Wall Of China is essentially a road, and you're only walking 5 miles a day - you might as well ask me to sponsor you to walk up Watford High Street.
2) The first thousand pounds in sponsorship money you raise PAYS FOR YOUR HOLIDAY. So if you raise £1500 in total, you've essentially got a free holiday and only raised £500 for charity. I would therefore question your motivation.
Last April nine of us embarked upon a week long road trip around Europe. The challenge was to buy a banger for £500, and get round 12 countries in seven days. We then felt a bit guilty about essentially going on a week long piss-up - particularly as one of our best mates had cancer.
So we decided to get sponsorship from friends and family to make it look a little more responsible and raise money for a good cause. However, every single penny of that sponsorship money went to the charity. We each ended up spending about £700 on petrol, B&Bs, food etc etc. - none of it went towards the cost of us having a good time. And I think that's how it should be.
So all I'm saying here is that if you're thinking of doing a skydive, don't expect me to pay for it.
Tuesday 4 August 2009
Cheese and Pickle
Whatever happened to cheese and pickle?
If you go into any service station or a sandwich shop these days, you can't get your bog standard cheese and pickle sandwich. It's all sun-dried tomatoes, red onion, spring onion -a load of nonsense ingredients that no-one needs.
Keep it simple and bring back cheese and pickle.
If you go into any service station or a sandwich shop these days, you can't get your bog standard cheese and pickle sandwich. It's all sun-dried tomatoes, red onion, spring onion -a load of nonsense ingredients that no-one needs.
Keep it simple and bring back cheese and pickle.
Thursday 23 July 2009
Speaka de Ingleesh?
One of the best things about going on holiday abroad is coming back. Everything's familiar, you understand all the signs, and you can communciate with everyone again - no more phrase books and sign language.
However, I have recently realised that this is not the case if you live or work in London. I had the sudden realisation the other day that hardly anyone I encounter during the day, apart from about 80% of my work colleagues, actually speaks English to any degree of comprehension.
Now, before I go on, don't take this as some racist 'they should all bugger off home' rant. It's not. I absolutely love the diversity in London, and it really is one of the key characteristics that makes it such a great city. Nor is it a rant about the change on our language - languages change all the time, and ours is no exception. It's just that it's becoming increasingly difficult to communicate with anyone in any kind of service position in central London.
From the moment I get to the station for my commute to work, the platform announcements and driver announcements are more often than not in some incomprehensible dialect of English. Ordering food at lunch is a trial, and you have to explain everything twice, and still the orders regularly come back wrong. Any restaurant, shop, or bar is almost exclusively run by non-English speakers. I popped into a newsagent the other day and asked if he had a Telegraph. "Of course, my friend," he said, and pointed me towards chewing gum.
Communicating in a foreign language is tiring - and that's effectively what we're having to do nowadays. But when each accent and dialect differs from the last, it's absolutely exhausting trying to keep up.
On a similar note, A Bangladeshi man who runs a small Post Office recently hit the headlines for insisting that all his customers communicate in English - despite it not being his first language, or theirs. When asked why he was insisting on this, he simply replied "Because we are living in England and the common language is English". If only it was that simple.
However, I have recently realised that this is not the case if you live or work in London. I had the sudden realisation the other day that hardly anyone I encounter during the day, apart from about 80% of my work colleagues, actually speaks English to any degree of comprehension.
Now, before I go on, don't take this as some racist 'they should all bugger off home' rant. It's not. I absolutely love the diversity in London, and it really is one of the key characteristics that makes it such a great city. Nor is it a rant about the change on our language - languages change all the time, and ours is no exception. It's just that it's becoming increasingly difficult to communicate with anyone in any kind of service position in central London.
From the moment I get to the station for my commute to work, the platform announcements and driver announcements are more often than not in some incomprehensible dialect of English. Ordering food at lunch is a trial, and you have to explain everything twice, and still the orders regularly come back wrong. Any restaurant, shop, or bar is almost exclusively run by non-English speakers. I popped into a newsagent the other day and asked if he had a Telegraph. "Of course, my friend," he said, and pointed me towards chewing gum.
Communicating in a foreign language is tiring - and that's effectively what we're having to do nowadays. But when each accent and dialect differs from the last, it's absolutely exhausting trying to keep up.
On a similar note, A Bangladeshi man who runs a small Post Office recently hit the headlines for insisting that all his customers communicate in English - despite it not being his first language, or theirs. When asked why he was insisting on this, he simply replied "Because we are living in England and the common language is English". If only it was that simple.
Half and Half
When talking about nationality, how would you describe yourself? English, Scottish, British, half-Irish? I describe myself as English, and I'm just coming round to the idea that the rest of the world doesn't acknowledge the individual countries in Britain, and therefore my nationality is actually British - to the point where the Americans talk about a 'British accent'. What a joke.
But I'm not here to discuss the differences between Great Britain, the United Kingdom, the British Isles, or whether Wales is actually a country or not (many refer to it as a region or a principality). No, I'm here to discuss nationality itself.
So back to my original question - I used to work with a girl who described herself as Italian. She was born in England, educated in England, and still lives and works in England. Her primary language is English and she betrays no trace of her Italian parentage. So I asked what makes her Italian? The answer, it seems is just down to choice. She is undeniably British in every way, but chooses to say she's Italian as it gives her a different sense of identity. Clearly she's not Italian, but if she feels Italian, then who am I to comment?
What I did think was particularly strange though was that she said her kids would be Italian. Errr...no. I'm sorry, but when you are born in a particular country, and both your parents were born in that country, there is absolutely no way you can claim nationality from another country altogether. By all means say you are of Italian descent, but even this has to stop somewhere. I, for instance, don't go around saying I am of Saxon descent, or go on about by Norman ancestors- but I'm sure somewhere up the line I could trace back to them.
My grandmother was born in Belgium, but think it's a bit of a stretch to say I am a quarter Belgian. Even more of a stretch for the Americans of New York to say they are full-blooded Irish. It's just a desperate attempt to have an identity different to your own - it's like when you were young and used to dress up as Superman. You are not Superman. Or Italian.
But I'm not here to discuss the differences between Great Britain, the United Kingdom, the British Isles, or whether Wales is actually a country or not (many refer to it as a region or a principality). No, I'm here to discuss nationality itself.
So back to my original question - I used to work with a girl who described herself as Italian. She was born in England, educated in England, and still lives and works in England. Her primary language is English and she betrays no trace of her Italian parentage. So I asked what makes her Italian? The answer, it seems is just down to choice. She is undeniably British in every way, but chooses to say she's Italian as it gives her a different sense of identity. Clearly she's not Italian, but if she feels Italian, then who am I to comment?
What I did think was particularly strange though was that she said her kids would be Italian. Errr...no. I'm sorry, but when you are born in a particular country, and both your parents were born in that country, there is absolutely no way you can claim nationality from another country altogether. By all means say you are of Italian descent, but even this has to stop somewhere. I, for instance, don't go around saying I am of Saxon descent, or go on about by Norman ancestors- but I'm sure somewhere up the line I could trace back to them.
My grandmother was born in Belgium, but think it's a bit of a stretch to say I am a quarter Belgian. Even more of a stretch for the Americans of New York to say they are full-blooded Irish. It's just a desperate attempt to have an identity different to your own - it's like when you were young and used to dress up as Superman. You are not Superman. Or Italian.
Feelin' Good
Simon Cowell recently did something charitable. He bought a dying girl a pony or something - I can't remember the details. What I do remember is what he is quoted as saying after the event: "I never thought being generous could feel so good". But isn't that the fundamental reason why anyone displays charitable behaviour?
Now, you may have gathered that I am a cynical bugger, and this is probably one of the most cynical theories there is. I once read in New Scientist that the only truly altruistic behaviour displayed by animals is the protection of their young - everything else is done for some sort of gain, whether emotional, social or tangible. And we are animals after all.
Take a simple example of helping an old lady across the road. Nothing to gain from that right? Just a good deed with no gain whatsoever. OK, well imagine if you didn't help the old lady across the road - you might experience all sorts of negative emotions such as guilt. I know I would. Particularly if she got mown down by the number 32 bus. So, the gain you are getting from helping someone is that you are feeling good about yourself. It's not tangible, but it's significant.
Giving a little money to charity each month gives you absolutely no return whatsoever. No thank you, no acknowledgement even. So why do we do it? Not because 'it's the right thing to do', or because 'there are those less fortunate than ourselves'. these aren't reasons - they are facts. We do it because it absolves us of just a little bit of the guilt that comes from being in a better position than someone else, and therefore means we can sleep a little better at night.
It's all part of the social order - we are social animals and society dictates certain codes of practice. Being 'good' comes with social rewards and helps us fit in more with those around us - there is a distinct advantage in this in that we don't end up alone in a bedsit watching Friends on repeat.
Yes, call me cynical - but try and think of one example where you have done something out of the goodness of your heart without feeling good about it, without it being what society 'expects' you to do and without it lessening the burden of guilt that would come from not doing it.
Now, you may have gathered that I am a cynical bugger, and this is probably one of the most cynical theories there is. I once read in New Scientist that the only truly altruistic behaviour displayed by animals is the protection of their young - everything else is done for some sort of gain, whether emotional, social or tangible. And we are animals after all.
Take a simple example of helping an old lady across the road. Nothing to gain from that right? Just a good deed with no gain whatsoever. OK, well imagine if you didn't help the old lady across the road - you might experience all sorts of negative emotions such as guilt. I know I would. Particularly if she got mown down by the number 32 bus. So, the gain you are getting from helping someone is that you are feeling good about yourself. It's not tangible, but it's significant.
Giving a little money to charity each month gives you absolutely no return whatsoever. No thank you, no acknowledgement even. So why do we do it? Not because 'it's the right thing to do', or because 'there are those less fortunate than ourselves'. these aren't reasons - they are facts. We do it because it absolves us of just a little bit of the guilt that comes from being in a better position than someone else, and therefore means we can sleep a little better at night.
It's all part of the social order - we are social animals and society dictates certain codes of practice. Being 'good' comes with social rewards and helps us fit in more with those around us - there is a distinct advantage in this in that we don't end up alone in a bedsit watching Friends on repeat.
Yes, call me cynical - but try and think of one example where you have done something out of the goodness of your heart without feeling good about it, without it being what society 'expects' you to do and without it lessening the burden of guilt that would come from not doing it.
Wednesday 22 July 2009
Caring Corporations
Since when has a corporation, or even a small company, been capable of 'caring'? I can make a connection with charities and caring for the people they support, but not a large, profit-making company. A company is an entity incapable of emotion or compassion - only individuals within that company can 'care' about causes. The cynical side of me, therefore, finds it hard to believe their motivation behind certain 'green' initiatives.
Of particular note are hotel chains who 'care for the environment' so much, that they'd like us to re-use our bedsheets and bath towels for our entire stay, in order that we save the planet. And this would have no correlation with saving them thousands of pounds in laundry bills? Of course not.
Same with the supermarkets - we'll charge you 5p for a carrier bag because it will put you off using them and therefore save the three-toed Columbian tree frog from extinction. Hmm - nothing to do with making an absolute fortune on plastic bag sales then?
I don't mind saving the environment - I'm all for it - but not if someone else is making a massive profit from my efforts.
Of particular note are hotel chains who 'care for the environment' so much, that they'd like us to re-use our bedsheets and bath towels for our entire stay, in order that we save the planet. And this would have no correlation with saving them thousands of pounds in laundry bills? Of course not.
Same with the supermarkets - we'll charge you 5p for a carrier bag because it will put you off using them and therefore save the three-toed Columbian tree frog from extinction. Hmm - nothing to do with making an absolute fortune on plastic bag sales then?
I don't mind saving the environment - I'm all for it - but not if someone else is making a massive profit from my efforts.
Sugar Puffs
I have a very acute sense of smell, and sitting at my desk at work the other day, I mentioned to a colleague that I could smell sugar puffs. She replied that the smell of sugar puffs always reminds her of wee. Funny that, because the smell of wee always reminds me of sugar puffs.
A Nice Juicy Pear
Pears are ripe for exactly one hour. One minute before, and they are rock hard and it's like chewing on a raw potato. One minute after, and you are faced with a blackened mush.
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