Fireside History

It has been a long time hasn't it

2012-01-29T23:14:00.000Z

Well it's been a long time and a great deal has happened over the intervening months. My journey is discussed on my blog Canada Eh? So I'm starting to settle in to my new life in the Great White North; and it is indeed very cold. Meanwhile, my project to chat with Polish veterans looks like it will gather pace as I've made good friends with a Polish society and veterans’ branch here. I'm really looking forward to chatting with some of the contacts they have possibly lined up. The work on my interviews has gone well, although progress is slow. There are two reasons for this. My own lethargy and the lack of time. I'd say it was the former rather than the latter that is the more problematic. I must contact some of the veterans I spoke with back in the UK and ask if they can supply any photos of themselves when they were young. I've got a couple but it would be nice to have a more full set to accompany the interviews.I'm also going to try and come up with some articles for a British magazine called Military History Monthly. This could be a good opportunity to get some extra pin money and keep my name in type. I'll have to come up with some good pitches. Finally, I'm frustrated by my inability to get hold of the webmaster of Firstworldwar.com. I'm annoyed that under his new format 1) my name is shoved at the bottom of the articles I wrote as though it was a footnote and 2) I'm not overly happy that the site is now plastered with adverts - some of which link to my work which I gave gratis. I've tried contacting him, but so far incommunicado... Basically, I’m fine with him continuing to use my work but think that I should have at least more of a byline in an obvious place. A link to my website would not go amiss. After all, if you google up Xmas Truce or Horses in World War One, it is my articles on firstworkdwar.com that come up first (just under the inevitable wiki entry). So quid pro quo…

A new blog on Canada

2011-10-07T00:17:00.000+01:00

I've decided to take the plunge and set up a new blog on Wordpress about my emigration to Canada. I will still run this blog as it's been a part of my life for several years now. But please check out my new one at:http://uppercanada.wordpress.com/

New band on my radar

2011-10-05T20:45:00.002+01:00

Real inspiration

2011-08-08T17:39:00.005+01:00

Well it's been a while - again. I've been spurred on to write something now that I have a little more time to spare. Plus, a friend of mine has just started a new blog, reminding me how neglected this poor old slice of cyberspace is.

I have been making some excellent progress in my project to record the Polish veterans of WW2. I have around eight interviews done and I'm about to conduct several more over the next week and a bit. Sunday will see me travel all the way down to Devon, around 100 miles plus. It's worth it, because there is no other location where so many retired Polish veterans live under one roof!

I'm still thinking a great deal about the two chaps I talked with recently. One had gone through the hell of the gulag system; people often forget that Soviet methods were just as brutal and bloodthirsty as the Germans. As a side point, this has always left me wondering why it is okay to wear a communist star. Frankly, it's the same as wearing a swastika in my book.

But I digress. This contact went on to join the Polish Parachute Bde and faced the drop at Driel, near Arnhem, which quickly turned into a bloodbath. The stats speak for themselves: 73 dead and countless others injured. An overall casualty rate of 23% for its officers and 22% for other ranks. These percentages are almost approaching WW1 levels of horror. One of those who died was a close friend of my contact's and, even to this day, I can tell it is a raw subject for him.

As was the treatment of the Polish Independent Parachute Brigade by British high command. Honestly, it's not an easy subject for me to come to terms with - the behaviour of the top brass, including Montgomery, was shameful.

Today, my contact hold his head high and is proud of what he and his comrades tried to achieve. That the Dutch still remember them and do all that they can to welcome these veterans is a testimony to fulfilling their duty in honouring these men.

The British government... well that's another story perhaps.

The other person I interviewed was a survivor of Auschwitz, which had - as most people know - had its own special horrors.

But not many people realise how large the Auschwitz complex became. The site was on a vast industrial scale and survival was a case of wits, luck (lots and lots of it) and mental and physical toughness. Without these prerequisites, a person was doomed.

My contact arrived in Summer 43 and was suddenly moved out in the spring/summer of the following year. He went with the bulk of the Poles in his section. The Germans had become fearful of major Underground Army infiltration (they were right to be suspicious, infiltration on a far-reaching scale had indeed occurred). He was sent on to Stuttgart to help in clearing bomb damage and then to work on rebuilding the rail lines.

Not long after, he was sent to work on the railway near the Siegfried Line defences. He worked on - and I had no idea this existed - a concentration camp on rails. He was finally liberated by the Americans. Not long afterwards he was sent down to Italy and, when his fitness had returned, started intel work with II Corps.

What struck me most, was my contact's ability to remember funny events in the middle of all the misery. His ability to laugh and remain resolutely positive was utterly inspirational.

Some thoughts on Norway

2011-07-27T18:40:00.005+01:00

This blog comes after three weeks of hectic madness. Well, one week of doing nothing and two weeks madness. Firstly my notice came to an end and I left my job. It was such a joy - a real weight off my mind to finally get out of the door. It's strange but a wave of disbelief hit me and I felt quite emotional really. Not for leaving - but for surviving!

So one week was spent relaxing; rather like taking a holiday, or a staycation as some call it. Then I've been trying to get myself together and organise things. It's been tough and the last five days have been real 'horror show', as they say. But here I stand (literally) sans bed, sans, books, sans TV, sans chairs. If it weren't for my laptop and ipod I would have totally disconnected from the 21st Century!

On a much wider level, my Norwegian friends are having to contend with the pain of mass murder and bombing. One friend was five minutes away from the Oslo blast. Thankfully, she was fine, albeit very unnerved. Strangely, my response to the Oslo bomb was quite considered; as Londoners, we experience this type of outrage sadly too often and, while shocked, soon get back to business as quick as possible.

More disturbing was the slaughter of innocents on the nearby island, which utterly appalled me.

Sadly, I don't think the perpetrator of this outrage is mad. This label has already been used by the defence, but it downplays the terrifying truth. Indeed, in some respects it is a mere tool for those seeking to understand and compartmentalise the inexplicable. From my perspective, this man is behaving in a way very much akin to those who were involved in the death camps of ww2. A veneer of civilisation covering the heart of a cruel killer. A disconnect from the morality of society, while at the same time asserting moral superiority. These are the elements that I find so disturbing and hard to think through.

But perhaps we shouldn't care about this man or his motives at all; perhaps it would be best to send him to his own private circle of hell, away from the publicity. In the meantime, we should listen to the survivors and offer them any help and assistance that can be afforded.

Venice Part Two

2011-07-13T15:55:00.009+01:00

On the next day, we decided to tour the Ducal Palace and St Mark's. We also visited several other sites, getting lost at one point on the way. It was my fault. Damn maps; they aren't what they used to be. Full of adverts these days. In my time, it was clear and concise. Of course there were a few empty spots where the cartographers placed the legend 'Here be dragons', but you at least knew where you stood.

Venice is a beautiful city and, if you can tap into a zen-like calm when hordes of tourists flood by, you'll enjoy it all the more. Basically, I found that if I accepted the crowds and remembered I was on holiday and not some sight-seeing commute then things were much better and relaxed. For anyone thinking of going soon, I highly recommend the Brotherhood of St Roch - a fabulous building that almost matches the Sistine Chapel. Except there are far few visitors to the Venetian site. Sadly you are not able to take photos and the shop had shut so I couldn't even buy postcards.

Before we left Venice, we visited some of the glass shops of Murano island. One glass making factory left its doors open for tourists to peak through and look at the manufacturing process. The raw glass was red hot and speed at which these chaps worked and the results they obtained were very impressive.

Italy 2011: Venice part one

2011-07-10T16:29:00.021+01:00

For our holiday in 2011, we decided to visit Italy. It would also be a farewell to Europe. First stop: Venice. We stayed on the island of Murano, so our arrival in the city proper was by vaporetto, one of the public water taxis, crossing the lagoon and soaking in the serene atmosphere.

We visited the Peggy Guggenheim collections first. Almost immediately afterwards, we bumped into a very convincing gondolier. He persuaded Maria to take a trip. I was grudging at first, but the scenery was fantastic and the mood romantic.

Bidding our gondolier goodbye, we headed off towards the Rialto in search of food. We'd been tipped off that a good restaurant was close by. But the first restaurant we visited didn't appeal to Maria so we swapped to a neighbouring establishment, much to my immense embarrassment. Although more expensive, the food wasn't very good. Still, we had a lovely time chatting to each other about all we'd seen on our first day, while watching the sun set.

Goodbye to an old friend

2011-06-29T19:44:00.002+01:00

On the historical front I’ve had some sad news. Military Illustrated (MI), a magazine I wrote for fairly regularly, has folded. For me it’s been a publication that always been there and one to buy irregularly whenever an interesting set of articles cropped up. Its commentary on World War Two was particularly noteworthy.

I’m proud to have written several major features for MI over what is now almost ten years, with my work on the Polish effort in WW2 taking pride of place. But another great thing about MI was the chance to write about other periods and to do so in depth. I look at other publications and the work presented is progressively more and more bite sized these days. I guess that even those with a love or interest in history no longer have the time to sit and digest 4,000-word features.

Another problem, no doubt, is the rapid rise of Wikipedia. If you’re interested in a topic just check this site and be done with it. Unlike many other historians, I don’t mind Wikipedia, although the amalgamation of voices often leads to disjointed structure. Truth by committee also makes me feel uncomfortable. I’ve also had run-ins with those the wiki-warriors who, because they are power users, brook no difference in opinion. But I digress. My point here is that the casual reader probably no longer feels a need to seek out a magazine after he or she has already read the ‘definitive’ version.

The final nail in the coffin was the decision to ditch print publication and move solely on to ipad/pdf format at the very end. I’d suggest those who still bought the magazine in print form were of the baby boomer generation and above. These people will be the last to shift over to a digital format. With this audience alienated and lost, I’m sure there was no way MI could continue.

At a far wider level, I think the informative niche magazine has had its day. Only those titles that are slick, backed with high production values and able to ride out economic cycles (when advertisers cut back on spending) will survive.

That said, I think there will be some exciting opportunities in the future when electronic tablets, kindles and the like become the norm. As long as someone buys a good design package and gets excellent submissions then there’s always potential for excellent emagazines. Although, and we come in another circle here, how it would pay for itself and how would it – if it was a history publication – break the icy grip of wiki and other sites? Food for thought.

Ch Ch Ch Ch Changes!

2011-06-21T19:34:00.000+01:00

‘Boy you’re gonna carry that weight, carry that weight a long time,’ so the Beatles sang. I feel I’ve been carrying a weight for the last three years plus and, now, a big fraction is lifted. I've handed my notice in and have two weeks to go.

In typical fashion, I got myself wound up with worry before passing over the envelope. Part of my nature is to obsess about what others think to the point of absurdity really. All holiday – more on this later in another blog perhaps – I was thinking about what would happen and how people would react. It was a bit of an anti-climax really – everyone was fine and in many ways very supportive.

Handing my notice in stems from the fact that Maria and I have decided to emigrate to Canada. Actually, I’ve decided to emigrate while she is simply returning home. She already has a job, which she has just started. As for me, I will work for one month and then centre my life on leaving London. I will return to home in Hampshire and then prepare for Canada. It will take some time for the paperwork to swing through with the powers that be.

I’m excited and terrified in equal measure. I won’t have my family near or my friends. I’ll also be in a new town looking for work with experience that might not match Canadian expectations, which I’ll simply have to overcome. I’m excited because the opportunities in Canada seem far greater. And the people I’ve met there all seem happier – willing to get on with things. Houses and the quality of life are also much better; who, I wonder, can afford to have a family in London? Only the super rich or (for all you Daily Mail readers out there) those on benefits.

It’s still early days and there is much work to be done. As time goes by, I hope to add more details.

Strangely it will very soon be the tenth anniversary of my arrival in London. For ten years I’ve worked hard and, from the professional perspective alone, not achieved many of things I wanted to. This factor also fuels my desire to head for Canada. Securing my MA was undoubtedly my proudest moment, but how I wish I could have managed things a little better afterwards. I still wish I’d got into lecturing somehow. But in the UK, a phd and further training is essential. Frankly, I didn’t have the money. Still, there were several angles that I could have taken but didn’t: e.g. scholarships. Mind you, I suffered from being too lazy, plus I was fed up being unemployed – an utterly horrible state of affairs.

On the personal side of life, things have been fairly fab really. I met and married Maria. I've travelled extensively and I was always able to buy books and other bits and bobs (apart from at the very start of my London sojourn). Hmm... thinking about travel, here’s a list of the countries I’ve been to over the last ten years (some I've visited several times). It's not too shabby.

Cambodia
Canada
Cyprus
France
Germany
Italy
Indonesia
Mauritius
Morocco
Mexico
Portugal
Singapore
Sri Lanka
USA

Sun and stones

2011-04-24T16:55:00.015+01:00

For some strange reason, the UK is basking in summery conditions. No clouds in the sky, people heading to the beach and warnings of smog brought about by the muggy climate. Naturally as a British citizen I'm now complaining that it's too hot for my liking. Similar to winter being too cold and spring not being summery enough...

The Easter break was the perfect opportunity to visit my parents, with Maria accompanying me. It was so good to be in the countryside again, travelling past the bright yellow fields of oil seed. I forget living in London how beautiful the English countryside is; how eternal it can seem.

Yesterday we decided to go on an outing and so headed to the venerable town of Salisbury and from there to Stonehenge. It was a very strange experience and one that threw me back to my younger years. I last visited Salisbury eleven or twelve years beforehand. We passed by places that were still the same as I remember - it was rather like the philosopher who would rush back to his room to see whether reality had changed or if everything was still in its place untouched. Interrupting all of this were shops and new spaces that broke the sense of deja vu. All very strange...

Our journey to Stonehenge was relatively quick, although hot. At the ancient site, vast crowds were gambling to and from the stones. Today, you have to walk around the structure. About thirty years ago you could walk up to the monument. Still it's striking to see and very weird to look at. Even the audioguide candidly admitted no one really knew what the true nature of the circles. This made me chuckle a little bit - reminding me of the classic lyrics by the spoof band Spinal Tap about Stonehenge. Here are some photos.

Later on we managed - just - to get on the bus taking us back into Salisbury. We decided not to bother with Old Sarum, the old Anglo Saxon and Norman site that preceded Salisbury. As a historian this was very bad behaviour, but it was so hot and, as you know, I'm so very lazy. In some respects it proved to be a good idea. We went on to the cathedral and then to the town's museum, which I've never seen before. Things were going well until the massive meal I had the night before finally caught up with me. We'll skip over the rest of the day for decency's sake.

We returned home yesterday and decided to sit out in the sun. I finished reading a book on the Piazza San Marco in preparation for our summer holidays which I'm greatly looking forward to; we'll be visiting Venice, Bologna (to see my good friend American Dave), Florence and then Sorrento, which is near Naples. It's going to be a whistle-stop Grand Tour and I'm very excited. Italy in the 1300s is one of my favourite periods of history and I can't wait to uncover the remnants of this period hiding among the gaudy Baroque splendour! Anyway here's Spinal Tap in all their glory.

Don't want to be a slug

2011-04-14T21:17:00.001+01:00

Terrible really that I've not been writing my blog as regularly as I used to. I suppose it's because I'm tired, stressed and generally at a low ebb. The main problem stems from my work; a lot of my good pals have moved on to better things. Combined with this loss of camaraderie, comes the new structure. Put it this way, the line from the famous Who song 'Won't get fooled again' springs to mind: 'Meet the new boss, same as the old boss'.

Through all this I've been feeling sluggish and depressed (I've also been ill with a horrible cold). I've got to try and disconnect - I'm too wrapped up with the minutiae of things. Frankly, I've got to give a little less damn about things and focus more on my longer-term future. But I wish things were more clearer so that my plans could be made with more certainty.

But all of this is very dull. More importantly, I hope to soon travel down to southwest UK to interview Polish veterans; I've also pencilled in another meeting with a Polish chap in south London. This is a really exciting project and one I want to make as much headway on as possible.

Right enough of this; not an interesting read, just an update I suppose.

The sound of breaking glass

2011-03-26T19:30:00.002Z

So it's the big day - a chance to cause some havoc and show the capitalists that the streets can be taken over and become the battleground of a class war. So the protester packing his rucksack puts in some bricks; he really loves the sound of breaking glass.

By mid-afternoon, the peaceful protesters have gone towards Hyde Park. But the man with bricks, along with his friends (and more besides) rush instead towards Piccadilly, a major shopping thoroughfare in London.

"Let's attack Fortnum & Mason! Let's attack the Ritz!"

So our protester covers his face and finds himself facing the Ritz Hotel. He pulls out a brick and hurls it at a window of the cocktail bar. Crack. Direct hit. His friends cheer him. And off he runs down Piccadilly keen to cause more damage, to make his mark. To attack the system.

Another person in London - she's simply come to some shopping. As is so often the case, she's heads off to do her shopping as her husband goes off to do his. She finishes first and, unnerved at the protesters marching by, heads into the Ritz for comfort and safety.

The lady enters the cocktail bar and is about to order a drink. Crack. The window suddenly splits, showering glass on her head and down her back. Confused, she follows other guests through a hallway filling with smoke from a canister that a rioter has managed to throw in. Eventually, with other guests she sits in the safety of a conference room at the back and starts to cry. It's a terrible, terrible shock.

I've guessed at the first part of this story, but the second part, concerning the lady, I witnessed it. I was sat next to her.

We'd decided to go to the Ritz to take my mother out for a fantastic birthday treat. We arrived first and were in the cocktail lounge when the window broke next to us, covering the lady in glass shards.

London has witnessed massive protests tonight. I don't agree with the protesters but I agree that they have the right to march in a peaceful manner. But the rabble of rioters - as soon as they had started throwing bricks and spray-painting buildings - should have been crushed by the police.

Eventually, we went to another restaurant and through the window I saw a good number of masked people rushing past. All looked young and I'd suggest were radical students. People who have the privilege, the time and - yes indeed - the money to rage against the machine.

Walking out of the area, we re-passed the front of the Ritz and saw anarchist signs and the legend 'Fat Cats' scrawled across the walls and windows. But none of the people in the Ritz were fat cats as far as I could see. Most were families trying to treat their loved ones to a special day and nothing more.

So the next time these people start throwing bricks, they should stop and think. Who's really behind the glass they're about to shatter: a fat cat or just a woman out shopping for the day?

B'ah humbug!

2011-02-19T22:21:00.003Z

It has been a long time hasn't it? Well things are not exactly going to plan in my life right now and the last month and a bit have been rather depressing. Scratch that. They've been depressing. Essentially, I have the feeling that my life has stalled and I'm in a position where all I seem to do is work to pay the bills and get to the weekend. Now and then I reward myself with a holiday. It's not what I would call fulfilling. I'm not helped by the fact there have been so many upheavals where I work.

At a general level, I'm getting fed up with the UK. Everything here is just based on short-termism and ripping people off. The idea that a consumer or a subscriber is someone to be taken care of went out the window years ago. Companies now feed off their clients in order to fill up their coffers and make their shareholders smile every fiscal quarter. I often find it amazing that a UK-based company is considered in difficulty if their growth rate fails to surpass the previous figure. Never mind that the company grows - it's not growing fast enough. And so the race quickens and more pressure is piled on the workforces. Meanwhile, the civil servants avoid this pain and live on good wages with excellent job security. Only now after almost three full years of depression are they about to face anything like the misery private-sector workers have had to put up with.

But what makes me sick on this last point is that the public-sector workers who put in the hours and work hard for not a great deal will be culled: the bin men, the people who visit the elderly and the sick, the road safety wardens etc. Meanwhile the fat cat civil servants will remain. The number of them earning well over £200k has grown dramatically in recent years. Get rid of these people or put them on £55k and we'd be making great progress.

On a slightly more positive note - the one ray of sunshine in my life right now - my project to interview Polish veterans is starting to gather pace. I've got three interviews completed and, with two earlier ones, that makes five. I need much more, however. I think about thirty would be respectable! I've fired off emails to various people but I'm waiting for responses. I must keep up the pace on this, otherwise it will fall by the wayside. When I think of my efforts in life I know that this project will have far more meaning for me than anything I've done at my poxy workplace in the last three years.

Call to arms

2011-02-03T21:27:00.002Z

To all my Polish friends: I need your help! Do you know any veterans from WW2 willing to share their memories but in English. I'm embarking on a project to get as many recollections as possible in the English language so it can be read by the widest possible audience. If anyone has hints or tips, please contact me at str@historicaleye.com

many thanks!

The holiday hangover

2011-01-04T21:30:00.009Z

The holiday is over and its back to the grindstone. I had a great time off: the first full Christmas I've had in three years!

I was in the city of Toronto, which is a fantastic city to visit. Luckily, the cold was manageable and hovered around -3 degrees Celsius. This was good and I wasn't left resembling the Michelin Man by having to wear several layers. I certainly packed in the food, wine/beer and merryment! I also trawled through several shopping malls looking for last minute presents.

Below are some Toronto shots, including some from the Royal Ontario Museum (ROM).

This institution has a rather horrid-looking entrance that a group of politicians probably thought was 'edgy', 'now' and 'inclusive'. Instead, they've landed up with an eyesore. I have nothing against modern architecture - some of it I believe can be inspirational. But this obsession town planners have with imposing the modernist styles on an original building without thinking about the surroundings is nothing short of criminal. The ROM should have looked at how the British Museum went about things. Bloody hell, I sound like Prince Charles!

More annoying was the ROM's frequent display of objects along thematic lines. Often this took the historical context out of the equation. I suppose the ROM is attempting to jettison the idea of a fixed narrative. This feels short sighted. How can one appreciate any feeling of progression? I know this is an old-school line of history that would see me laughed by many academics, but I still think this over-arching methodology has the greatest value. However, themes have their place but not at the expense of clarity.

One way to work off the frustration in Canada is to watch ice hockey, the rules of which I'm still unsure off. My father- and brother-in-law went to watch the venerable Toronto Marlies take on a team from Chicago. There was a great deal of rushing this way and that, while several fights flared up for almost no apparent reason. One poor sod was totally flattened, receiving a season-ending injury by the look of things.

More up my street was the Steam Whistle Brewery - a not-to-be-missed site. These chaps have created a Pilsner par excellence: quaffable and very tasty. A little later on, I visited the Flying Monkey Brewery that centred its energies on producing ale. These were good, although I must admit I'm not really an ale man. Still, I brought the T-shirt and the very handy bottle-opener keyring. So two breweries in one week. Not that bad!

Roaming in Romagna

2010-12-04T23:33:00.016Z

I suppose I should speak a little about my recent trip to Bologna and to the smaller satellite town of Forli. I went to visit my good friend American Dave. Or just Dave, if you happen to an American. I arrived and it was raining, which it dampens the spirit when you are travelling alone in a foreign town.

Bologna drips with history: every square and almost every facade has a story to tell. But on a more mundane level, its shops are dull and of the identikit continental variety. While having to wait for American Dave, I was crying out for a good old fashioned tavern/pub. No such luck. All the restaurants were crammed and most just sold slices of greasy pizza. If I'd had more time, I'd have sought out a decent place but I had to get on to meet Dave and then head on to Forli.

The view from Dave's window

Forli is where Dave is studying: it's a sleepy(ish) town with a large central square and, yes, its shops are identikit too. They're damned expensive as well. In one, I ordered a cheeky glass of vino. Price: €4 - and very nearly a London rate. It tasted foul, almost as if they'd been tapping the medieval barrels Giovanni found hidden in the basement. As a point of principal, I drank it.

Nights out in Forli were a little strange: all the students made me very nostalgic and all were very kind indeed. I was a welcome guest in several households and I'm grateful for the hospitality. I managed, however, to break a garden chair at one of the parties simply by sitting on it (all very embarrassing). It's a risky, but full-proof means of making an impression as a guest.

Forli had a modern museum that was staging an interesting Ancient Egyptian exhibition. I forgot to mention that I'm very taken with Egypt at the moment after visiting the excellent Book of the Dead exhibition at the British Museum. The Forli display was of objects, jewels and figurines from Asyut and Gebelein between 2100 and 1900 BC (think about that for a second: awesome in the true sense of the word).

The greatest impact, of course, was the Mummy they had on display. The human features were still clear to see. There were several other bodies, wrapped in shrouds. With some, you could see the skull. And I must admit that I felt a bit ghoulish. These were human remains that should have been left to rest, I suppose. On the sides of the coffins were the eyes of Horus. Death for the Egyptians was a transformation for the afterlife. I've still got much to learn about this incredible topic. I wish I could have taken some photos of the exhibition.

I visited Bologna on one of the more sunny days and visited the medieval museum. Well it wasn't entirely medieval: there was a great deal of material from other later centuries. Still, the material from the Middle Ages was spell binding. Something that about the art of this period captures my imagination. Thankfully, the museum had no problem in allowing me take photos and I've posted some below.

After the Medieval Museum, I wandered to the central square, which was hosting a regional chocolate fair. Maria would have been in heaven if she'd been with me. Every available combination of chocolate was available.

View of Bologna

After this, I climbed one of the Medieval towers in the centre. These were two proud survivors from the age when Italian big wigs built upwards, ever upwards for defence, glamour and one-upmanship. It was a statement of might: literally 'my tower's bigger than yours'. I got to the top - just - wheezing away as though I'd just smoked 20 Galois. I'd like to say the views were worth, although was busy trying to soak up as much oxygen as possible.

Getting home was a hassle - when isn't it? But I'm glad I chose last week for a holiday and not this week. I missed the snow and the madness this entails. One flake and London grinds to a halt!

A professor teaching (from a funery panel)

Justice: her sword long gone, her scales missnig

Stern face, sad eyes

A portable icon in the Byzantine tradition

Pope Boniface VIII

Students listen to their master (funerary panel)

You can say that he laughed,
and he walked like St. Francis,
With love

Iron flowers

The hunt

Cluniac

2010-12-01T20:07:00.016Z

Wading through my digital pictures I've taken over the last year I noticed several shots I'd taken at the Cluny Medieval Museum in Paris. The objects here are presented in no particular order. I forgot even to note down their origin or date, which is terribly nauthy for a historian. But I suppose we could say the following is a post modern mix of the Middle Ages at its best. Enjoy!

A question of charity

2010-11-28T14:47:00.006Z

It has been a long time hasn't it! My life runs along the lines of nothing to say and then a flurry of activity. For example, I've only just got back from from Bologna, Italy (more on this at a later date).

But about a fortnight ago, I had a small but interesting quandary.

There was a knock on my door. It was about 11.00pm. In London, most people prefer to ignore the first knock, knowing full well the tactics of marketeers.

A second knock. I answered the door.

A lady in a rain jacket, looking very agitated, launched into her patter. I'll paraphrase it here:

'Hi, I'm really, really sorry to bother you but you're the only people on this street who seem to be in.'

'Ah-huh,' I thought.

'I need to ask for £6. I need to charge up my card to get my heater working [in the UK poorer people still use pre-pay meters]. My baby is at home really cold and I also need to warm his milk up'.

She threw in a couple more reasons - she had no cards or credit available to get cash out herself. Her husband worked a night shift and wouldn't be back until morning.

My wife pointed out she wouldn't be able to charge her meter card anyway as the shops were closed. But the woman was adamant that a supermarket in the area was still open, which seemed plausible.

I thought about it. This did seem unusual and the woman was clearly very embarrassed. To put it bluntly, she didn't appear to be a typical London scrounger. I gave her the £6.

'You'll pay it back tomorrow yes?'

'Oh yes definitely. My husband will be back tomorrow; I'll put the money in an envelope and post it through the door.'

'Okay. Well we'll see.'

In the back of my head I thought there was something different about this case. And I really, really wanted to be proven wrong. I wasn't: no repayment was made.

Taking time to think, I now ask myself why we so easily forget the vast social safety nets this country has constructed - backed by all political elements (bar the rabid Right). So let's be be blunt again, the average Briton really has no need to give money to strangers at the door. Theoretically he's already donated to the less well off at least several times over.

Unlike so many other nations in the world - where poverty kills - this country has social security, housing and countless other state-run agencies to help and assist. And let's not forget the hundreds of charities run for the poor.

Our 'visitor' has also done additional damage, which I suppose she'll never think about. The next person who comes to my door - regardless of their situation - will probably find it firmly closed.

Bitter lemon

2010-10-23T18:09:00.006+01:00

Boy oh boy that last blog was a bit bitter of me - I've taken it down.

But I stand by the thrust of my argument: middle and upper management not at the sharp end are a dead weight on this country's efforts to break the downturn.

The curse of so-called networking is alive and well within UK PLC and needs to be trimmed. Especially in this day and age when there is so much pain from job cuts and fiscal retrenching.

I suppose I'm arguing that every person in the workplace should be as productive as they can. I get as equally annoyed at union workers who go on strike at the drop of a hat, when all and sundry know that their pay and conditions are not only excellent but belong to another age (when Britain could afford jobs for life and final salary pensions). I've worked with some excellent union guys and I've worked for some who were almost militant.

And let's not delude ourselves, we have entered the Chinese century - the boys in Beijing are racing ahead with development, pushing to become world leaders. If we continue acting as though there's no competition to worry about - that we can act as the world's clearing house for stock sales - then we've another thing coming!

Bonfires on the heath

2010-10-12T19:11:00.004+01:00

The weather is cool and the nights are drawing in. Summer is never long enough in this country. Now and then I meet mad people who say: 'I prefer the winter - it suits my mood'. Insanity.

The change in weather always, without fail, brings me down. It means 4.30pm darkness, lashing rain and the chance of snow (a few flakes that brings London to a halt). Still we persist in setting back our clocks all based on some ridiculous study that took place in the 1970s. I believe it highlighted the dangers faced by schoolchildren walking to school. What schoolchild walks to school in 2010!

Putting the depressing thought of winter to the side, I'm still basking in my front cover success. I'll upload the article on my website shortly. Meanwhile, my work on the Moroccan article continues apace. I have to say this feature has really sparked my interest; the characters involved almost stranger than fiction. I've got all the images I need, so it's a case of knuckling down and getting on with the writing.

Which is easier said than done these days. I feel so tired and worn down from work. But I've booked a holiday to go visit my good friend American Dave near Bologna, Italy, and this is something I'm very much looking forward to. Immersing yourself in la dolce vita is no bad thing. Plus there's a medieval museum in the city that I'm excited by (I'm a sad man, I know). But I also expect Dave and I will be drinking a fair few libations! We must be careful here: in the old days all sorts of madness resulted.

And now for something completely egotistical. Here's a montage video I've uploaded of my Sri Lanka trip earlier this year. I chose the music because it suited the mood and for no other reason than this.

Front cover

2010-09-19T12:25:00.004+01:00

Out now in all good news agencies - Military Illustrated with my article leading!

It's always great to see your work pushed to the fore and I'm really happy with the design they came up with.

A couple of niggling points, however: the letter ł - as in the Polish submarine Orzeł - was left as an underscore mark instead i.e. Orze_. It looks a bit odd; I suppose I'm being a bit of a perfectionist, but then that's the sub editor in me!

It was a tough one to write and I must admit the story was often so in-depth, with varying Allied interests all grating against each other, that is was a tough story difficult to tell in 4,000 words.

I hope, and I feel I have succeeded, in doing honour to the Poles who fought at Narvik.

Monk time

2010-08-27T17:58:00.003+01:00

Amazing how time flies and stands still at the same time isn't it?

This weekend is my 1st wedding anniversary and it feels like only yesterday that I was suited and booted and waiting nervously at the end of the church aisle! I know that countless people say it - and that it sounds dull to those who hear it - but my wedding day was perfect. A lovely English wedding in an old country church that dates from the 12th Century...

Meanwhile, for the last fortnight, I've been covering someone else's job at work. It was tough stuff, and the minutes seemed to bleed so slowly into the hours that it often felt I'd reached a break in the space/time continuum. However, when the deadlines approached, I'll frankly admit to running around like a man possessed and on the verge of a breakdown. Thankfully, I reached the finish line and I'm still sane. Just.

One slice of good news is the scheduling of my article about the Poles at Narvik 1940. It will come out in Military Illustrated in late September for the October issue. I'm really looking forward to it. The sense of achievement in creating an article that covers new ground, engages the reader, and looks good is always exciting. I wish I could write more, but time is always tight.

I've moved on - as I've said - to writing (well researching at the moment) Morocco 1900-1912; the key years when the French slowly but surely took the country over, with Spain taking some sizable chunks too. I think it will make for a fascinating article if I can find a good hook on which to base it. The difficulty of selecting such a large timeframe is to offer a comprehensive account without slashing too much detail. Four thousand words give or take a few hundred (but always on the plus side for me) can be tough work.

But it's a good skill to have and one that I think many historians should learn. It still amazes me how many of the articles I read when studying my MA were like stream of conscious gibberish of limited value, forcing the reader to reach for the dictionary with every paragraph.

Music-wise, I've started to really get into the Monks.

A strange group, with a strange history; it was started in the mid-60s by a bunch of American GIs based in Germany. The band initially went under another name and covered rock n'roll hits and surfer music. A little later on, and once out of the forces, they shaved their heads monk-style, wore cassocks with nooses for neck-ties and played feedback-based proto-punk. They recorded one album before splitting up with the members returning stateside. Years later, this album is hailed as a lost classic of US rock and austere German art house.

Here's a clip of them in their prime.

Obama palaver

2010-08-16T19:25:00.005+01:00

My wife loves the West Wing and I must admit I enjoy watching it too.

For those who've been living under a rock since 1802, it's a television series that follows the ups and downs of a fictional American president and his staff.

All the characters are intelligent, savvy and on the ball. But the Realpolitik of the American system is often overlooked by President Josiah Bartlet keen to uphold all the virtues of the Constitution no matter the cost (while seeking to amend what he considers the flawed parts).

Sounds familiar doesn't it? But it appears Obama is no Josiah. Wading into a political debate surrounding the rights and wrongs of a mosque being built close to the site of the twin towers, he has suddenly found himself opposed by more than 70% of Americans. His stance was brave, his decision politically unwise: a first-term US president must always think about election number two.

So, several emergency PR meetings later, the president decides to head down south and, with his family in tow, take a swim in the Gulf of Mexico - no doubt a pre-cleaned part. The concept was simple: convince people to come and holiday in the Gulf. The problem: it's so obvious an attempt to deflect attention that it seems, for want of a better word, shallow.

To compound matters, Obama is also happy to have shots of himself splashing around with one of his children. I've never liked politicians using their families to project an image. And isn't it funny how it's always the politicians who turn out to be the most shonkiest who use this method. I cite Honky Tonk Blair as the supremo of this form of publicity.

Something to think about America...

Another rap attack!

2010-08-01T16:32:00.002+01:00

Serindip

2010-07-28T19:01:00.019+01:00

Serindipidity, stems from the word Serindip - the Arab name for Sri Lanka. It's a word that does justice to what is a beautiful country.

The landscape of this island is fantastic: from scrubland plains to near-impenetrable jungle. On the coast can be found golden beaches nestled among jagged rocks.

But the towns and villages are, for the most part, non-descript. Most of the building work is recent and rushed. The drive and growth of the country seems limitless and the change rapid. With the civil war finally over, public money is flooding back into road-building and other infrastructure projects. In 20 years this little island will be completely different and perhaps we will count it as one of the last Asian tiger economies to get going.

But the physical history of Sri Lanka - its buildings, temples and ruins - have suffered, because of the lack of money available. In the future, proper visitor sites will no doubt be constructed, modern museums founded and professional guides commissioned. But this transition is still waiting to occur and many sites have woefully inadequate facilities and poor signage. The guides, as far as I could tell, were simply people who could speak a smattering of English. Ironically, the Italians, French and other European nationals had it better at this point because those who could speak their languages were undoubtedly certificated by the Sri Lankan tourist board.

A final and more serious problem was the attitude many Sri Lankans displayed towards foreign visitors. While some were charming, and none bad mannered, most viewed guests as little more than walking cash points, there to dole out money for the most trifling things, such as giving directions. Meanwhile, in the shops, there was a definite feeling that you should buy a product - such as a shirt - simply because you looked at it. For me, this made things uneasy.

And I won't get on to some of the difficulties we had with our driver!

I've uploaded some of the photos of my trip below; I hope my shots do some justice at least to the beauty of the place.

A panoramic view taken at Polonnaruwa Vatadage, built during the reign of Parakramabahu I in the 12th Century.

Face of the reclining Buddha at Gal Vihara. The Buddha as attained parinirvana - nirvana at the point of death.

Dambulla cave temple paintings of the Buddha.

One of Sigiriya's ladies, painted circa 5th Century AD.

An elephant!

Fire eating!

A panoramic view of fishermen on stilts on the south coast of Sri Lanka, near Galle.

On the beach

2010-07-11T13:17:00.003+01:00

Ahh holiday... Yes at last I'm on a well-earned break. And about time too. I haven't stopped since August last year. I'm now sat in an air conditioned room, around 100 metres away from a large infinity pool on the south coast of Sri Lanka.

Next to my sun lounger is a bottle of local lager, and a rather large local history book. Meanwhile, the waves are crashing on the beach a mere 20 metres beyond from this.

The first week was somewhat tough as we visited every possible temple and historical site within striking distance of the various hotels we are staying at. This involved waking up early and doing a lot - and I mean a lot - of climbing and walking. Now we are in the second half of the holiday, where sitting by the beach is the most strenuous thing we plan to do!

I plan to write up more - Sri Lanka has such a wonderful culture and amazing array of sites that to do justice to them its only right I upload some photos and pictures.

However, I hear the sound of the beach beckoning...

Sick of being sick

2010-06-13T22:52:00.006+01:00

So the last three weeks have been about as fun as a lobotomy performed by a rabid chimp: two weeks of insane work levels and then one week of being utterly ill. I had a chest infection, which is my Achilles heel as it were. Usually I end up coughing and hacking away like a character in a Dickens novel that's not going to make it out of the chapter alive.

But thanks to the boys in Boots, I stocked up on all sorts of pills and elixirs and made it through.

Perhaps the real kick in the teeth came mid-week after I managed (after two hours of phoning and not getting through) to secure a doctor's appointment. Temperature taken, lungs checked and throat inspected, I was told to head straight to the pharmacist and buy - immédiatement - ibuprofen! Dear God, no wonder the first thing French people in this country do when they feel ill is book a Eurostar ticket...

I started to feel a bit better by the weekend and decided to finish the Narvik article. It's taken just over a year. I shake my head in disbelief that it takes me this long now - in the good old days I could get three good features done in one year. Perhaps I am busier now and have less time.

For my next effort (I know I always say that I'll focus on that novel but never get to it), I'll centre my attention on a Canadian WW2 article. Amazingly, there is very little in Britain by way of books on Canada's involvement in the war, particularly the battle through the Scheldt - one of the most vital (it opened up the port of Antwerp) and gruelling of the Western Front campaigns. Winter in Dutch polderland is pretty bleak on any occasion. Throw in flooding, enemy snipers and thousands of other Germans all fighting to the death for der Führer and you begin to get an idea of how tough it was.

Interestingly, the Allies were well aware of the duff deal the Canadians got: they were labelled the Cinderella Army - in that they never had the joy of liberating a major town or city in occupied Europe. So I'm keen to tackle this topic, make some new contacts and, in a way, get to grips with an important slice of Canadian history.

But now for something completely different. I'm a big fan of M and in this clip we can see a vision of Europe's sartorial future...

Here's to Dennis Hopper

2010-05-30T23:18:00.002+01:00

Ingerland

2010-05-29T18:14:00.002+01:00

So my wife was walking along the high street and this little brat almost knocks into her with his scooter. 'Watch where you're going kid,' she said. Rather than apologise for her child's behaviour, the mother launched into a rant.

Meeting my wife in the supermarket a little later, the same woman and child (using his scooter in said supermarket) passed us and started shouting again. I remained calm, telling her that 1) she should have better control of her child and that 2) he had learnt a lesson not to use a scooter on the high street where he could knock into people. She wasn't listening - just shouting, going redder in the face.

This was a slice of English life... no ability to apologise, just rant and rave. 'It's not my fault and don't you dare answer back!' Blind rage, the threat of violence. I've experienced it before.

Perhaps I should have shouted back, telling her to crawl back to the trashy hovel she came from. It's funny how most immigrants to this country that I've met are generally hard-working, honest and polite. But so many of the 'indigenous' population are loud, rude and sluven. Something to think about the next time you read through a Daily Mail.

The next big thing

2010-05-21T00:03:00.001+01:00

Some days are better than others

2010-04-27T21:03:00.001+01:00

I received an email the other night that has led me to a lot of thinking – some might even say obsessing.

It was regarding an article I had written on the Gurkhas in Borneo. The title I had chosen was the ‘Scourge of Sukarno’. Really I only selected it because it was eye-catching and was meant to emphasise the bravery of the Gurkhas. The mail I received was from a high school student, pointing out that the wording offended him and would offend many other Indonesians.

Sukarno was their country’s first leader and fought bravely against the Japanese in WW2. However, his decisions in his final years as president were often poorly judged and his stance towards Malaysia overtly aggressive. The Confrontation of the early to mid-1960s was his brainchild and the responsibility for this rests with him. British, Commonwealth and Malaysian veterans should feel proud that they thwarted Sukarno’s efforts to dominate the region through use of force. And I wanted to convey this with particular reference for what the Gurkhas achieved.

But I thought hard about the title; I looked through my dictionary and realised that the word ‘scourge’ was over-egging things. The second point the student raised was my linking the president to civil strife and disorder that afflicted the country in the mid-1960s. Personally, I think Sukarno was involved closely with many elements of the troubles but this can not be proven. And it is this latter point I should have also stressed.

I strongly feel it is important to criticise and not fear making a critical point as long as the language used is measured and appropriate, and as long as the argument is fair comment. But in this instance I shall make changes – including a renaming – but not tamper with the essence of the article.

As a journalist this bothers me, but as a historian I know I need to be supremely confident the facts and be able to defend and argue them to the hilt if necessary – if this involves some editing then so be it.

A sting in the tail occurred when I tried to take rename the wikipedia link to my article which carries the original title (By-the-by I had put the link into wiki in the first place!). But my change was overturned. So I took the link off thinking I would update it later. I got home and I’d been sent a ‘vandal’ warning about changing the link title and removing it!

I can’t win it seems.

Compare and contrast

2010-04-06T18:41:00.009+01:00

The UK election is upon us. The hacks are sharpening their pencils, ready to write reams and reams of commentary and analysis; the spin doctors are trying to condense the message into three succinct words; the politicians are preparing to defend that £10,000 'flippage' on their home, duck house and dodgy satellite channel claimed for last year.

Hmmm UK politics… where unless you live in a marginal, you might as well forget thinking your vote will count. It might be a bit more interesting this year, however, as the politicians face independent candidates with no skeletons in their cupboards. Personally, I’d like to see more non-aligned mps: it might shake up the dysfunctional system we have ended up with and bring about some more trust.

In the meantime, I’m still working on my Narvik article and, slowly, it’s starting to come together. It’s tough to source information hard to get hold of, put it into context and then make it fit into an article of around 4,500 words no more. I’m trawling through the introduction purging even single words in order to tighten the work and save space.

Finally, I’m still thinking a great deal about to very powerful movies I’ve recently watched: the Bridge and Johnny Mad Dog.

Interestingly, both films have a number of similar links, despite being separated by almost 50 years. They are both concerned with child soldiers and the impact that war has upon youth.

In the Bridge we follow three days in the life of young German boys, aged around 16, as the Third Reich is about to fall.

The boys are all naïve: they believe in Hitler’s Third Reich even as the local Nazi big wig is preparing to leave town in the face of the Allied advance. Called up in the evening, they go through a morning’s drill before their unit is raced into action and certain annihilation. The commander, believing he is getting the boys out of the firing line, orders them to instead protect the town’s bridge. Big mistake: the Americans arrive with tanks and experienced soldiers ready to force their way across.

The shock of this movie comes from seeing these youngsters sacrifice themselves for such a horrific ideology. I've posted a trailer below. I apologise as all I could find on You-Tube was the English dubbed version.

Because it is a new movie and less squeamish about showing violence, Johnny Mad Dog is a much harder film to watch. It tracks the journey of rape, murder and pillage that a West African (Liberian) ‘Small Boy Unit’ undertakes. Even more powerfully, the actors were once child soldiers for real.

The main plot is comparatively simple (albeit with lots of subtle subtexts): children are taken and press ganged by a rebel faction. They are then brutalised into fighting and become butchers, although we see both in their violence and, in rarer moments, compassion the fragments of the children they really are.

Perhaps this is a close one can get into this very, very disturbing world that is still very much present and blighting several African nations.

Thanks Dave

2010-03-30T19:36:00.000+01:00

Back in business

2010-03-15T20:45:00.003Z

Thankfully the editor of the magazine I write features for has given me the green light for my Narvik article after all, which is excellent news. Still I have been reminded of a valuable lesson: pitch first!

So I'm now busy writing away, starting to shape the work accordingly. It's a lengthy process where every sentence has to count and be relevant. With around 4,000-4,500 words, the lines have be relevant. No matter how interesting you think the paragraph is, if it's not vital then it becomes dead weight and must be cut.

Of course a book has a little more leeway. Indeed, many readers expect detail and smattering of analysis. I'm reading a chap called Lunde's book on Norway 1940. An excellent account that I really recommend.

I recently went to see the novelist Ken Follet - of the Pillars of the Earth fame - give a talk at the Victoria and Albert Museum recently. I was really impressed: whether you like his work or not, he is thorough in his researching the topic in hand and in connecting with the emotions of his characters. This was something he stressed a number of times. A good book must have emotion and must connect with its readers. I'm certainly taking note of this for when I get round to writing my novel - if I ever do that is.

Over the weekend I visited the Clink Museum: a 'prison' on the site of one of London's oldest criminal rehabilitation centres as they probably call them these days. Entry was five pounds ($8) per person. Not bad for London you'd think. There's a catch. With only a few waxworks and some poor voice overs, the only displays are written accounts on the walls and several period pictures. There were some items of medieval and tudor torture, often set on the floor and easily missed.

Space was restricted, hardly larger than the office floor I work on. All told, 3 out of 10, which might be a bit unfair, but then again London's attractions should all be seven out of ten at the very least.

Visitors to the South Bank should save their cash: go to the displays and museum in the Shakespeare Theatre. Otherwise just walk: it's free and far more interesting really.

Always pitch first

2010-03-02T19:06:00.004Z

A schoolboy error: I have a great article idea, I go out and buy the books and images, I dedicate hours of time to research and then the editor rejects my pitch. Always, always make the pitch first before diving headlong in. Its rule No 1 of freelancing and I foolishly forgot.

The article I allude to would have been an excellent appraisal of the Poles at Narvik in 1940, a tough and gruelling fight in a campaign that is overlooked. Instead the publication will run another analysis of France's fall, which is important, but I'd have thought there was space for both.

I'll be looking towards writing another article I suppose. But I might just write the original feature and put it up on my website. I'll have to mull it over.

Over the weekend I joined my parents in visiting the Family History show at Kensington Olympia. It was not as good as my last visit: although there were more stalls, I felt there was less diversity. For someone beginning family research, I think it would be great. For those more well-versed in research, there was less value.

I had the chance to meet the editor of a magazine for whom I sometimes write little social and cultural history articles. His magazine is undergoing a big change shortly and its battleground will be social and cultural history, which will be great to see - not only as a writer but also as a enthusiast. There will be some excellent opportunities to pitch more articles that I know I'll enjoy writing and researching.

I hope the magazine will also stomp on the History magazine by the BBC, which I buy and enjoy now and then but find an anathema simply because it has backing of the licence fee and I firmly believe that the state-run broadcaster should have nothing to do with print media.

Earlier today the BBC announced it is making cuts, but as always these will fall on the wrong areas. The website workforce will be hacked down and BBC Radio 6 quashed. No 'stars' will be cut from the bloated rosters, and god knows how many millions will be wasted on wall-to-wall coverage of the 2012 Olympics.

To Billie

2010-02-23T19:39:00.006Z

My friend Billie, who I sadly lost contact with a few years ago, died last week aged 94. She had a full life and, from her letters, I could see she had a real joie de vivre that put old grumble-guts here to shame.

It was a moment of real pride that I was able to tell her of the fate of Uncle Ernie, her first husband who fell during the war.

The grind

2010-02-03T18:37:00.001Z

January over, February to go. Really these are the two most dull and leaden months of the year. The sort of months I wish I could write off and hibernate really.

I’ve been extremely tired this week and I’m unsure why: I’m not getting much sleep. Plus I’m getting more and more frustrated at the direction of things. I’m mulling over the idea of taking a PhD. I know it will be tough financially and on my fatigue levels, but it would in many respects be the culmination of all I have worked for almost a decade.

Not much has happened over January, although I went to a masked ball at the V&A. Well a sort of masked ball, essentially it was ‘come wearing a mask, look smart and you can enter for free’. Some people didn’t bother, while others went the whole hog, looking as though they’d just stepped in from the Rialto.

I have to say I’ve never seen the V&A so busy – it was rammed and, as we left early, I’m sure it only got busier. Before leaving, we checked out – albeit too briefly for my liking – the wonderful new medieval galleries. I can not praise them enough. Really good layout, excellent use of space and atmospheric lighting: I will have to go back and mull over the displays.

Dengue Fever

2010-01-11T23:33:00.001Z

That was the decade that was

2010-01-10T14:26:00.005Z

The 'noughties' are dead. Long live the 'tweenies', the 'teenies', the 'teens' the - what on earth do you call them?

At work the other day we had difficulty uploading a file because it was dated 2010 and the system failed to recognise the last two digits. It reminded me of the fuss and fury regarding Y2K - do you remember that? Aircraft were about to fall out of the sky, bank accounts would freeze, the young pre-broadband Internet was going to implode. Nothing happened.

Ten years later, and I can't upload a file and I'm wondering what bloody planet the IT people are living on.

I suppose we'll look back on the noughties as a 'Georgian' era - the Bush years define the decade, which started for many on September 11, 2001. I remember that date, watching the unfolding horror in a friend's flat near King's Cross and knowing, even then, that the world was changed forever.

And boy it has changed: out on the streets we have phalanxes of CCTV cameras, in libraries and museums bags are now checked, at airports we are herded from large x-ray machines to finger scanners.

Remember the hour you had in duty free? Now it's a 15 minute rush to grab some food: forget the booze and fags, get something to eat because you know the in-flight meal will cheap and terrible. All companies care about now is the bottom line.

The bottom line and the obsessive drive to maximise profits has led to a risk-all business culture. We saw a 'mini' fallout when the dot.com bubble burst at the start of the century. But you would have thought society would have learnt lessons from this economic jitter.

Did we hell.

The 'Enronisation' of management culture is complete: big risks and big bonuses are he order of the day. I suppose the crash has put the breaks on this development, although I'm not so sure.

Interestingly, I was 'there' when the great crash started - standing next to the Lehman Bros building near Canary Wharf, watching the mid-grade and lower-grade workers leaving the glass tower with bemused looks on their faces. Its always the way. Top management would have got to the lifeboats long beforehand and already had the time to make their emergency plans for the future.

Eronisation has not gone away, however, and the modus operandi of big business will be hard to change.

And while we have all worried about work, rent or mortgages, armies are fighting and bleeding in Afghanistan, as they did in Iraq. Two operations that are so complex to understand that one would have more chance of coming to grips with the 19th Century Schleswig-Holstein Question.

We are slowly learning, however, that by hook or by crook the Iraq war was going to happen regardless of WMDs. It was a desire, I think, by Bush's administration to fight and win a conventional war.

At the time, Iraq's invasion was not a moral dilemma for me: I thought it was right and proper we support the USA, as they had supported us for 60 plus years. It was also right and proper to get rid of a tyrant.

What was criminal, however, was the utter lack of planning. Where was the Middle Eastern Marshall Plan? What the hell were we doing thinking it was possible to establish in a few years a western-style democracy that takes hundreds of years to evolve? And why were we fighting on the cheap, limiting manpower and relying so much on technology. Its boots on the ground that counts and we only learnt this towards the close of play, suddenly discovering that 'surges' work...

Meanwhile, as the West wrings its hands over this, that and the other, China and India are developing at a pace certainly not seen in this nation since the Industrial Revolution.

We are entering a Chinese century and the sooner we adapt to this, the better we will be placed to maintain our position, which will become vitally important as the demand for raw materials and resources rises to fever pitch.

On a personal level the noughties were not that bad for me. It could have been better of course, but I closed the year and decade a happy man, along side my friends and family. In the overall scheme of things, it's these last two points that are most important.

All roads...

2009-12-21T18:53:00.011Z

I’m shattered. I’ve had such a hectic few weeks, including an amazing but frustrating visit to Rome, the eternal city, at the end of November.

We landed in Rome and were informed that a wildcat strike of ground staff had just started. Left in the airport with other UK travellers, we were at something of a loss – bags were not being put onto the carousels and no announcements were being made in English other than ‘delays may be experienced’. At the help desk, around 30 Italians were shouting and bustling about. It would have been slightly funny had we not been involved.

We managed to leave our details to send our bags on (which they were 24 hours later).

It was the first time I’ve been to Rome and I was very excited. Although we had three days, I think we managed to do a lot: we saw the Coliseum, the Forum, went to the Vatican galleries, St Peter’s and a lot more!

Buying a Roma pass was an excellent way to see Rome – certainly it allowed us to use the fast queue, which is always a bonus. I think going in winter helped too, although the weather when we went was very fine, rather like spring in fact. I found it slightly amusing to see the Italians all dressed for a heavy winter while I was walking around in jeans and a stretchy T-shirt (bought by mistake when I believed I’d not see my bags again: it looked utterly terrible).

But I digress. Rome is a beautiful city, where history is almost as clear as the strata found in coastal rock formations. It was amazing to stand on the same streets that I’d spent so long studying.

The coliseum is great and made all the better because we used our Roma passes and were able to get to the head of the massive queue. The structure is awesome - awesome in the original sense. The size and scale amazes and conveys the power of ancient Rome almost in way no other ruin or artifact can. The exhibition they had on Vespasian was really good too.

Here at one of the many museums in Rome (I've forgotten its name) we see the statue head and other body parts of Constantine, the emperor who converted to Christianity and made it the official religion of Rome - changing the fate of the world forever.

Our holiday landed on the last Sunday of the month, which meant entry into the Vatican museums was free. This also meant that every man and his dog would be going. We arrived at 8.30am and finally arrived at the entrance by 10.15am. However, it was worth it. The Sistine Chapel, the acres of painted ceilings, the architecture: it's impossible really to describe.

The Sistine Chapel was rammed with people, but luckily we managed to get hold of one of the few seats available. Outside of the Sistine chapel there are countless other wings of the museum and it would, I'm sure, take a full five days to get around. The one place I had to visit was the medieval section, which, while not large, is nonetheless very impressive. Included in the paintings was this striking work on St Peter's crucifixion.

St Peter's is a vast cathedral, its size only really revealed when you finally stand under its roof. With so many people walking about snapping photos, the sudden interruption of a religious activity suddenly reminded me that this was a church. I think this group of pilgrims were Polish.

Although St Peter's was spectacular, it was perhaps too oversized - too brash if that's the right word. I preferred the church we visited in the Trastevere, while small it was still impressive, particularly its ceiling above the altar that had fabulous Byzantine-style mosaics, with Christ at the centre.

There were countless other sights, but none more impressive that the Trevi fountains. I hope to back to Rome, although I should add it was eye-wateringly expensive. And the hassle and anger of having our luggage lost in the system will take some time to fade!

My boyhood friend is a rapper

2009-12-09T20:28:00.002Z

Bliar

2009-11-25T18:05:00.004Z

And now it is being revealed by the Iraq inquiry that Britain doubted the existence of WMDs: that Saddam's chemical weaponry was probably not even battle ready. At the hearing it was admitted that Iraq's ties to the terrorist threat were tenuous and that North Korea, Iran and Libya were considered more dangerous states. In short we went to war at the behest of the USA - which I thought was no bad thing given the sacrifices the USA made in WW2. There was a debt of honour. I also think there was a belief that the popularity of Gulf One would be repeated in Gulf Two.

At the time I was uncertain about the whole WMD business, but certainly thought that taking out Saddam was no bad thing. I also believed - erroneously as it turned out - that we had a firm plan for reconstruction in place. Maybe something like a mini Marshall plan. We didn't and, for the British, our army in Iraq went on to become guardians of Basra, which they were not trained or equipped to be. That control was lost there was, with the benefit of hindsight, predictable. At its worse, the army simply became the guardians of Basra airport. It's a sorry tale and I wonder how historians will judge it: poorly I would suggest.

Meanwhile, I now look back at Blair's actions in the lead up to the war as a terrible abuse of the position of Prime Minister. For this, if nothing else, he should be held to account.

Old Moon

2009-11-20T22:25:00.003Z

I've been ill these last few days and really ill today. I managed to stumble into work and then stumble home.

Having slept for an age, I shambled about and then watched a movie I'd rented called 'Moon' - no not 'New Moon' but 'Moon'. I really enjoyed it: the script was brilliant and the sets very good. It was a sci-fi movie that made you think: not like the usual CGI pap that gets spewed out. The budget was a mere $5 million, which is nothing in movie terms I'm told: I have to say it looks more like a $50 million movie.

Earlier in the week I met some of my Polish friends. Some could not make it, which was sad. But it was a happy time nonetheless. Mind you, they forced me to drink two shots of 70% Plum Brand that could blow your socks off. We all chatted and talked and I realised how unfortunate it was that I'd not been able to visit more often this year.

There are still so many people I need to interview: their stories need to be recorded in English and given a platform for other to read...

Selfish

2009-11-11T18:34:00.001Z

Today at the eleventh hour no one in my office that I could see stopped to mark the armistice.

What can you say about this?

Wall to wall

2009-11-09T18:14:00.005Z

It was twenty years ago today (sounds like the opening to a song) that the Berlin Wall fell and a new post Communist world arrived. I remember recently discussing this with my brother. For use eastern Europe still has this fascinating 'otherness' about it. We were, I believe, the last cold war kids.

As young children the world then was black and white without shades of grey. We were the 'goodies', they were the 'baddies'. They were Eastern, we were Western. When my brother and I fly into Poland they is still that feeling of crossing an imaginary, but once very deadly line.

Now we are all European, I suppose (not in the political sense, but cultural at least). I'm sure our children's children will find the whole thing as utterly mad and our views and outlook quaint at best.

Meanwhile, I'm currently obsessed with the immediate pre-Beatles world of early 60s music. While full of dross, there are some musical gems that can still amaze, particularly some of the work by Joe Meek. For those who don't know who he is, Meek wrote and created the weird, but ahead-of-its-time tune called Telstar.

I love the suits of this period, really sharp. I'm too much of messy person to wear them, but I would if I could.

I really, really recommend the film Telstar, which while a little rough and ready, really conveys the feeling and originality of the era.

Ticking along

2009-10-12T19:47:00.003+01:00

Our thank-you cards have finally arrived and we will be busy sending them out over the next few days. It would have been faster were it not for the Royal Mail strike, which has left the London postal system in a complete state.

We had a picture party on Saturday and celebrated the glorious tradition of Canadian thanksgiving, which is (don't say this too loudly in case my wife hears) a sort of glorified Harvest Festival. Do you even remember Harvest Festival in England. When was that last celebrated - 1856!

Meanwhile, I forgot to report that my article on the Polish paratroopers at Arnhem is out in this month's Military Illustrated. I'm really happy with the results and hope the people who helped me will get their copies of the magazine shortly. I must head up to Kingston to get some extra copies.

Hopefully I will be meeting my Polish friends next week for a name day celebration. It will be great to see them again, it feels far to long since I was last down there chatting to the old boys. I'll also have a toast to Roman.

So funny and so wrong

2009-10-06T18:45:00.002+01:00

Raise a glass to Roman

2009-09-17T19:56:00.003+01:00

It's been very hectic coming back from Honeymoon and diving straight between the grindstones of work. C'est la Vie.

Today is the 70th anniversary of the Soviet Union's invasion of Poland from the East as the Poles struggled against the Nazi Juggernaut in the West. In this brutal act of Realpolitik, Stalin showed his true face to the rest of the world. That the Allies promptly forgot this in 1941 says a lot for their naivety (or their ability to play the game of Realpolitik - and then lose).

Meanwhile, one of my friends who fought in the campaigns following D-Day has died. He always shook my hand and wished me well. Very rarely he'd reveal parts of his story from those dark days. I'd tried on a number of occasions to interview him but was never able to: I so wanted to record his experience in English for a wider audience but it was not to be.

Rest in peace Roman.

A Wonderful Wedding

2009-09-11T09:54:00.002+01:00

Well I tied the knot! I'll write up more details latter, but suffice to say I had a wonderful day.

To be married in such a beautiful little church, with friends and family present, was everything I wanted.

To all those who came, from near and far, I can not thank you enough.

Wardrobe of my soul

2009-08-19T19:24:00.001+01:00

When in Gdansk

2009-08-17T19:05:00.021+01:00

I forgot to mention the wonderful long stag weekend I had in Gdansk a few weeks back. I'd like to stress that I was well behaved (relatively speaking) and not one of those fools who bring along their friends dressed in rugby tops with pathetic nicknames on the back. I've seen these idiots staggering through Krakow and dragging the name of Englishmen everywhere through the mud.

Malborg

But I digress! Gdansk is a lovely place and nothing like the backwards image most Britons have of it: i.e. one giant rusting shipyard surrounded by grim porridge-grey concrete tower blocks.

The centre of Gdansk is a beautifully reconstructed (the place was flattened in World War Two) renaissance town. And one of the best things about Gdansk is the lack of big name Western chains: you know the ones. The high level of independent traders really adds greater character to the city and I hope the civic authorities strive to maintain this.

The shipyards are fairly grim, but then most shipyards are. In the future I suspect they will become less important to Gdansk's economy as new industries move in and Poland becomes a more post industrial nation.

The hotel we stayed in was excellent - it even had a microbrewery! Its beers were excellent, particularly the dark brand that was smooth and not at all bitter, unlike other dark beer brands.

The highlight of our trip was Malborg castle that was easily reached by rail. The huge structure has been reconstructed, having also suffered devastation in WW2. Famously, Malborg was the home of the Teutonic knights, the warrior monks who first fought the Prussian tribes and then soon turned on the Poles.

A Medieval Fair was in full swing when we arrived. It was great to see the re-enactors merrily bash each other! There were others making handicrafts such as pots or paper. One stall was selling mead, which I find a bit too sickly. My brother loved it and so purchased a bottle. We also sampled some medieval ale. It wasn't to my taste: the was no carbonation as such. It's strange what a difference the bubbles make to your beer.

Medieval Ale

Malborg was the start of a very boozy day: when we got back to Gdansk the stag night started properly. Although we were well behaved, a number of hilarious incidents occurred. I won't mention what exactly happened: as they say, what goes on in Gdansk, stays in Gdansk.

One major regret was not being able to make it to Westerplatte in good time - we were held up on the ferry for about an hour. This meant we arrived at the pier only to quickly get back on board and head back for the city centre. Westerplatte, for those who don't know, was where World War Two began and going there would have meant I would have seen both where the conflict had begun and ended.

And who says I don't know how to party?

Hitting the wall

2009-08-14T17:28:00.004+01:00

Ye gads I'm tired. I'm holiday cover for the next two weeks. Today I had to be at my desk by 7.30am. I was in by 7.26am. I then worked until 3.50pm with no lunchbreak. I have to say I felt like one fourteenth an elephant at the end of it...

More excitingly I picked up my ring today for my wedding, which is now only two weeks away. I hope I'm not too shattered by the time it comes about.

Meanwhile, I'm still furiously reading through medieval books and really starting to formulate an idea fo a story. I'm going to give fiction writing. Why not? They say we all have a book in us, I'd like to be someone who gets the book down onto paper: well computer disc I suppose.

When no one is left

2009-07-29T19:13:00.003+01:00

I was saddened by the death of Harry Patch a few days ago on July 25. The 'Last Fighting Tommy' as he became known was a final witness to the muddy holocaust that was Passchendaele; the last person who witnessed the meat grinder that was the First World War.

Now, of course, the Second World War generation is thinning out. I urge anyone with a friend or relative who lived through those dark days to record their opinions. We all laughed at Uncle Albert's catchphrase 'During the war...' but how will we feel - especially the historians - when there is no one left to say this?

Today and yesterday I've been feeling as rough as hell: I caught something on the flight back from my Stag session in Gdansk (more on this in another posting). This led me to worry about Swine Flu. All over London and where I work are posters with people sneezing, or posters with evil-looking microbes blown up x 1,000,000. Given that I had a headache, aching joints and that my sinuses that felt like taunt piano wire I was expecting the worse. A temperature of just under 38 degrees C wasn't inspiring confidence either.

Phoning the helpline, I was told to keep an eye on myself: I didn't fulfil the criteria, although the guy at the end of the line - who was very helpful - did have to ask his line manager about my situation.

Personally, I'm sure it was something from the flight but you need to be sure in these strange times.

In the meantime, I'm sitting in bed cursing my immune system. I can't seem to get off an aircraft without picking up some variant of tracheal St Elmo's fire.

Wiki weekend warriors

2009-07-15T20:20:00.003+01:00

Grrrr: Wikipedia can be so annoying you put up a link to a relevant wiki article and some pale-faced geek who has been sitting at his computer wearing underwear for the last 24hrs decides he will not only take the links down but then send a warning message calling you a spammer.

These holier-than-thou self appointed moderators who believe they are experts in the field are so annoying. I've also noticed they choose militaristc nicknames like Stormbird 5000 or Red Eagle etc etc. It's almost certain they've not had any academic backgrounds or even been taught the basics of journalism 101.

Well here's the article I uploaded and tried to link. I think it's worthwhile:
http://www.historicaleye.com/yamamoto.html

Real Ale

2009-07-06T19:39:00.005+01:00

Lazy old cat

2009-07-05T21:35:00.003+01:00

Hmmm a new month and my thoughts are becoming more and more focused on my upcoming wedding and the expense of everything. It's insane how you mention the magic W word to a vendor and the price suddenly shoots skywards.

Still, it is exciting and, so far, it will be one of the biggest days in my life.

On another front, I'm becoming increasingly concerned about how tired I am these days. I've always been a slothful person but recently I find myself wanting to sleep more and more. If I have a hectic week I want to sleep away the entire weekend, which is not helpful at all. On some days it feels like the only thing keeping me awake is the coffee, which I have to shovel in like one of those old coal stokers on a steam engine. Perhaps I was a lazy cat in a former life?

On the historical side of life, I'm planning to write an article on Norway during the war. I've already started buying resources, including a mad decision to buy a new hardback book, which I hardly ever do. I could have got the volume off amazon I suppose, but I'm keen to dive into this article and get writing as quickly as possible. The Poles at Arnhem article, while I'm very proud of it, took far too long to write - almost a year.

This time I will set myself a deadline and keep to it. Hopefully I won't fall asleep too much...

Las Vegas and the Doctor

2009-06-28T20:45:00.009+01:00

Thinking more about Vegas and Mr Brown's argument that I should have referenced Hunter S Thompson has led me to wonder more about Sin City and its meaning.

In Fear and Loathing, HST wrote a brilliant passage likening the 60s and its counter culture as a gigantic wave that broke somewhere on the shoreline of Nevada without reaching Las Vegas. You could see the high water mark, HST wrote, if you had 'the right kind of eyes'. In Vegas today, with the 'right kind of eyes', you can see that HST's contention was both right and wrong.

Yes 'the wave' broke and for HST writing in 1971 - when a corrupt president ruled the land and that Vietnam war still dragged on - the 'failure' of the counter culture was a bitter pill to swallow. This pessimism was premature, however. The wave broke, but this is not to say it made no impression. In Vegas, in particular, I noted that while the bulk of the staff performing the more menial jobs were non-white, there were plenty of Black and Latino families on vacation, enjoying their Vegas holidays that would have been impossible to contemplate a generation ago.

Vegas is a multi-cultural place where every race, colour and creed is invited to lose their money.

Mind you, the sleaziest element of exploitation that I saw was a grim situation of Mexican chaps handing out calling cards for 'girls to your room'. Was this the real reality: the grim horror of economic migrants forced to do a job that 99% of them would find repellent if asked?

Meanwhile, in reading 'Fear and Loathing' let's not forget that HST was stuck in Sin City consuming truckloads of class A drugs and bathtubs-worth of booze - on expenses. Vegas then and now is not a good place to get wired, with every smiling face heralding another effort to take more money out your pocket. Paranoids should stay clear of this town.

Vegas is superficial: but it is not pretentious. All of the cab drivers we spoke to willingly inferred that the place was ersatz and kitch. Caesar's palace is tacky, its aim is to leave the visitor awed by the expense and luxury of its tackiness. Excalibur is just low rent.

And in Vegas, if you step away from the Strip, there is a lot of low rent to see. I'd avoid it. When you stay in a five star jungle lodge, it's best not to leave the air con room and mosquito nets behind and go wandering...

Overall, I found Vegas exciting, vibrant and fun. But could I do more than four days without becomming a jibbering wreck?

Chance meeting

2009-06-26T22:26:00.002+01:00

What an insane week for work. The pressure was so great I worked from 9-8 on Thursday without a lunch break. Today was a bit better. I managed to get lunch too.

While on my break I went to Paternoster Square and went on towards St Paul's tube where some guy asked if he could speak to me. He was an Asian gentleman in a blazer and tie: not like the usual student in a bib asking you to support Amnesty/Save the Children/Greenpeace/NSPCC etc etc.

I stopped and let him launch into his spiel and was I surprised to find out he represented an Iranian democracy campaign.

He told me about the campaign, although his English was not so good. It transpired he had been in the Iranian army as a captain and had refused orders to fire on Iranian people. For this he was imprisoned for two years. His friend came up and chatted to me. He was a microbiologist. He had also been persecuted. We chatted and briefly talked, with me asking a few questions. They then explained their goals and were keen - well they were looking for money - for me to sign up to make monthly donations. I turned them down on this matter: I'm getting married this year and need every dime. I did hand over £10, which is a fair donation in my mind. I hope it helps, even if it is a small amount.

I also signed their petition to get the limp handed Milliband, the UK's foreign minister, to finally stand up and condemn the Iranian regime. Having read lots about Iran and with my friend out there having to suffer the madness of those gangsters I feel I should offer a little more help. I'm not so sure. I guess, deep down there is always the tug between the problems in my life and the wider international aspect of things.

The group is called the Iran Liberty Association to be found at www.iranliberty.org.uk

I think their goals are admirable indeed.

Viva Vegas

2009-06-23T20:08:00.006+01:00

So I finally, finally, had a holiday. God it was needed. I’ve not had more than a week off since Christmas. I’ve not had a proper break since Wroclaw!

Where did I go to get maximum R&R? Vegas. Who did I go with? My parents. It was a blast, but insanely tiring.

Vegas is the city that never sleeps and where life is lived at times twenty, in surround sound with high definition.

Vegas can be experienced at break-neck speed or at a more leisurely pace, although no matter how much time you put in by the pool, the lure of the slot machines and gambling tables will bring back inside to chance your luck.

My holiday was a fast-paced four days and, with such a short space of time available, it was important to plan wisely. ‘The Strip’ is the city’s lodestar and where I spent most of my time; so this guide will list just some of the highlights – and lowlights – I experienced walking through its fabled mega-resorts.

The south end of the Strip begins with Mandalay Bay, its gleaming orange/gold towers coolly reflecting the fierce Nevada sun. Inside the settings reflect a plush re-imagined Southeast Asian palace, with all the amenities of the USA included. There are numerous outlets and restaurants here catering for any appetite, with quality ranging from cheap fast food outlets, to eye-wateringly expensive ‘ultra lounges’ and celebrity-endorsed restaurants. Almost all the mega-resorts follow a similar template.

The Mandalay’s hosts an enormous shark reef aquarium and costs almost $19 a ticket for adults. The hotel’s pools are surrounded by sand, imported especially from California.

Next on the Strip is the Luxor, a giant black-glass pyramid surrounded by black-glassed towers. The main entrance is under a large and garishly-painted Sphinx. On the inside, the ancient Egyptian theme is repeated with statues of various pharaohs and plenty of strategically-placed hieroglyphics.

Throughout all the mega-resorts the chime and ring of the slot machines is a constant siren call. Prices start at 1 cent a go and, if you keep a sharp eye out, waitresses can be called over and free drinks obtained, although you must be playing – and paying – before you will be served.

Higher rollers will want to chance their hand at the card and roulette tables. Most of the mega-resorts called for minimum of $10 to enter the game. Sharks with money to burn will want to seek out the separate areas, more intimate areas for big game gambling.

Vast in size, the Excalibur is a decidedly down-market place, with its ‘Ye Olde’ reworking of medieval England verging on tacky in the extreme. Kids will love it; and the mega-resort’s mock jousts will excite children both young and old.

The New York New York is a far more impressive place. Its exterior is constructed to look like the Big Apple’s skyline, with an impressive ‘miniature’ statue of liberty out front. For the more daring kind of traveller, a roller coaster runs through and outside of the mega-resort.

Some years ago, my parents stayed in this hotel and found its rooms and service excellent. Sadly the café where they ate breakfast while singers belted out Motown hits has been closed.

The largest attraction at the MGM is its lions, which are kept in a large reinforced glass enclosure. There is a glass walkway through which the public can go through and on which the big cats sometimes doze on. It’s a strange feeling to walk to a souvenir shop with lions directly overhead.

Next on my list was Caesar’s Palace: a vast location I easily found myself lost in, trying to find a restaurant. There is so much to see and do, that it could take almost half a day to fully explore the casino and its sights. Even its lobby is something to gape at. Be sure to visit the moving statues.

The Venetian is probably the most impressive of all the mega-resorts on the Strip. This vast renaissance reproduction can not fail to impress even the most jaded and cynical of visitors. Inside there is a ‘grand canal’ populated by gondoliers singing boisterously away to couples and families, who can see the ‘sights’ without suffering the authentic smell of Venice.

The Mirage has a ‘volcano’ that stops the traffic, or so I was told: while I was in town, this man-made Vesuvius was inert undergoing technical maintenance.

The Mirage hosts 'Love' by Cirque du Soleil, a dreamlike musical that uses remixed Beatles hits. For fans of the Fab Four this is a must see, although ticket prices can be expensive and should be booked well in advance to avoid disappointment.

There are plenty of other shows and a million other sights in Vegas and one of the quickest ways to reach them is by the monorail that runs from MGM all the way up to the Sahara. It’s best to buy three-day pass if you are staying in Vegas for some time. A single journey will cost $5, which is cheaper than the London Underground.

The glamour of Vegas – the Rat Pack, Elvis, and suited and booted mobsters – is long gone but on the strip the glitz remains. Indeed, so large and boisterous is this place that it is undoubtedly one of the wonders of the modern world.

And when in Vegas, always remember the Golden Rule: no matter how well you do, the house will always win in the end.

For anyone interested, I stayed at the Luxor, in a good mid-range room. Space was excellent and the bathroom well-maintained. The view overlooked the airport, which was not a problem as the room was thoroughly sound-proofed. It also helped that I was on the nineteenth floor.

My only criticism was the black shading used on the windows, which dulled the light coming into the room. While this helped keep the temperature down, it created a permanent twilight that was impossible to alleviate due to the dim lighting. The room was also without a refrigerator, which meant I was forced to shop downstairs for cold water or other cool beverages.

Weekday Marxist

2009-06-08T19:42:00.006+01:00

Hells bells, another week another Monday stuffed with madness. The computer system we use is my bete noir and leads to so many mistakes that I - a poor human who is in no way superior to a soulless computer - must answer for.

No doubt the fallout from today will last all week. Bugger.

In politics, it looks like Gordon Brown has been kicked firmly in the fork by the electorate. About time too. Few realise how badly his meddling in the pension pot will be on the British people in the future - and all for a several billion when Labour came to power.

On a personal level, I'm thinking of joining the NUJ, the national union of journalists. I've never been 100% sure about unions; I once worked with a guy who clocked off on the dot when his contractual hours were over, leaving the rest of the team, including myself, in the lurch - often working until late into the night.

A union person should strive to work as hard as possible and set an example for his or her colleagues.

Overall, the principle of unionism I find myself agreeing more to. Certainly this is the case in these hard times, with the accountants trying to squeeze unreasonable profits no matter how many casualties are left in the dust.

I would also like to know that someone, somewhere is looking out for me when the managers become over-bearing.

Thanks for the salami

2009-06-01T19:30:00.004+01:00

Ever had one of those days when you are at work and things seem organised and then, suddenly, its 'can we have a chat about holidays?' Your plans that you've spent hours over then get changed in the space of 15 minutes and, because you are so low on the ladder's rungs, there's nothing you can do about it. That was my day today...

'C'est la vie, mais c'est ne pas bon,' as they say in Gdansk.

Meanwhile, I've almost finished my Arnhem article. It's taken almost a year! My difficulty was procesing the masses of information and setting it within a structure that made sense for the reader. HArd to do when the battle itself was a mass of actions small and large with very little uniformity. Still, I am proud of the overall result and really hope it will do justice to the Polish paratroopers who fought so hard and sacrificed so much.

L'eclipse

2009-05-20T21:19:00.000+01:00

Your inner chimp

2009-05-20T19:32:00.003+01:00

I'm reading an excellent book that proves beyond doubt that Darwin was right. It's called the Ape in the Office and proves that, at heart, we're all just brainy chimps.

Not only does it have laugh out loud examples of top ceos behaving like spoilt alpha monkeys, it also explains a lot about office hierarchies. In fact, I'm now starting to look closely at the actions of my colleagues and find myself thinking of the Monkey House, London Zoo: albeit with computers and without the rubber tires.

And if for a moment you think we are more intelligent than monkeys, I'm reading another work detailing the worst business ideas and practises of recent years. Some of the howlers in it (not the monkeys, of course) make you smile and cringe all at the same time. But there's something very enjoyable about reading how some idiot ceo comes up with a hair-brained scheme that everyone else - except the lamprey-like hangers on around him or her - thinks insane, but accept.

'Poodle futures' then secures a mass of funding for research and design. It is unveiled in a fanfare of publicity: 'Real men know that the poodle will change the way you live!' It then sinks like a concrete battleship.

Perhaps the most amazing thing about this book is how many of these ceos and head honchos continue in their jobs. Those that do get pushed by the shareholders usually maintain their pensions and golden parachutes.

Moving on, I'm thinking of writing a new historical article once the Arnhem feature is complete (it's almost done). I'm very interested in exploring the defence of Norway 1940 and have already purchased some books in preparation. I think this will be an exciting new area of WWII history to explore.

After this, I will definitely move on to writing a novel.

Pulling it together

2009-05-14T19:23:00.002+01:00

Depression is a horrible, horrible thing. It's important to try and pick yourself up, dust yourself down and keep going, even though it can be a titanic struggle. Often I'd like to just stay in bed or read a book, or listen to the radio.

I'm not saying I feel 100% better: I really need to maintain focus. I must also try and be more assertive. Meanwhile, this weekend is really needed. I plan to sleep, read and relax.

Black Dog

2009-05-11T21:37:00.003+01:00

Things seem to be getting worse and worse for me as the weather gets better.

Frankly I've got to the point where I have to make a career change or I will collapse. I keeping getting walked over and I lack the ability to stand up for myself. I find it difficult because I'm not quick at thinking on the spot.

I feel so tired now...

I was thinking the other day about the past and about the happy fragments I can remember, such as driving with my family through France listening to the Beatles on my beaten up walkman. Those holidays were so good and I failed to appreciate how golden it all was.

Never mind the swine

2009-05-05T21:42:00.006+01:00

Ever had one of those days where it just doesn’t seem to go right; or you secure one small victory and then the next eight hours is full of defeat? Today was one of those days for me.

The system we use at work was all over the place today: flinging out more problems than solutions. I contact support for, well for support. Once, twice and three times things go to the wall and support starts thinking it’s nothing to do with the system but something I’ve messed up. But damn it, I’ve done this a million times. I’m not guilty, right?

At the day's end I get to Waterloo and find there’s been a signals failure…

Trudging home, finally – and stopping at the pub on the way– that damn mouse I’ve been trying to kill puts in another sodding appearance. This time he raced into my bedroom to hide. Wonderful, I now share my sleeping space with a grimy Southwest London rodent.

Over the last few weeks, I’ve forgotten to update my blog on his nocturnal rambles: they’ve become so frequent it no longer comes as a surprise. It’s sort of descended into a suburban version of Roadrunner. The other day, for example, I almost hit him with the swish duster mop. I was sooooo close… but the bastard slipped through a floorboard. I was even preparing for the dramatic death scene: I even had a eulogy prepared, something along the lines of:

‘I've seen things you people wouldn't believe. Cheese balanced on the edge of a deadly trap. I’ve eaten crumbs next to the toaster by the wine rack. All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain…’

Bastard

Summer is coming in

2009-05-04T18:57:00.007+01:00

Finally summer is slowly creeping in and the days are getting longer. Each year the winter season seems to drag on further into spring; life is so much better when you come home from work and the sun is still in the sky.

That said, the dust and debris starts to build up in London around now: when the wind blows its almost guaranteed that grit will get in your eyes. Then there is the summer pollution, with the exhaust fumes refusing to float above street level. And let's not forget the Underground, where the concept of air conditioning is unheard of. Only fools, worn out commuters and tourists use the tube at the height of summer.

And talking of tourists, floods of them arrive from Southern Mediterranean countries, excitedly pointing at things like red telephone boxes and zebra crossings, while at the same time getting in the way of people simply trying to get from A-B.

For all this, summer is still the best season to be London and there are times when you stand outside a pub with a chilled pint of beer or a glass of vino and, with the week's work in the can, you feel part of a wonderful parade in city that still outshines others - not for its architecture but for its energy. Eat your heart of Paris, a sham city with plastic people.

One French concept we've stolen is the idea of 'slow food', which means properly-prepared food with decent ingredients. This weekend a 'slow food market' was held on the South Bank of the Thames. There were a good number of tents to browse and the produce on offer was good, but I often feel that the labels 'organic', 'fair trade' and 'farm fresh' are used to add 50% to the bill, while the quality is only a fraction better.

My assumption in this regard was part confirmed by a Brazilian farmer selling coffee in one of the tents. Fair Trade, he said, guaranteed a price to the producers, who then frequently sell their lower-quality stuff into the scheme in order to make a better cut of money. The better stuff they then sell on the open market.

Coffee plantations frequently get away with plucking ripe and unripened coffee beans, which obviously affects the quality. The roasting process is often botched by the larger companies, who leave the beans to 'cook' for too long, leading to a bitter taste. They then use their marketing to convince us their product is fresh, hand picked and the sort of stuff that only Arabian Sheiks drink once the price of oil hits $150 per barrel.

His final advice was also worth noting: if you have a cafetiere, leave the hot water to cool slightly before pouring, otherwise the coffee will be scolded and the taste become more bitter.

Because he had spent the time to talk to me and had explained where his coffee came from and how it was grown I decided to buy two packs of his produce. I can understand why Brazil is such a party nation: this coffee not only tastes great but is also an great pick-me-up.

Before we left the 'slow food' market we tried out some Lebanese lamb burgers, with added chili sauce. Lovely stuff, and I took a shot on my creaky old mobile phone to record the event.

We also held our first BBQ of summer this weekend, with yours truly on cooking duties and trying not to poison the guests. As the burgers and sausages cooked, it wasn't long before conversation turned to favourite food. One of our friends is part Lebanese and was discussing some of the traditional dishes she enjoyed.

This reminded me of the Lebanese burgers at the 'slow food' market. 'We had wonderful Lesbian burgers the other day!' I exclaimed. My friends and fiancee looked at me with open mouths and then I twigged what I had said...

Out of town

2009-04-27T12:13:00.009+01:00

This weekend we went to Sherborne, Dorset to visit my grandmother. Maria and I were hoping to get good weather and have excellent food. On those two counts we failed.

Friday was good, getting out of town in itself was a positive thing. London with all its history, excitement and vibrancy is offset by the pollution, the grind and the overcrowding. Sometimes the last three build up over the months until they reach a breaking point and I have to flee for a few days. The feeling of getting on a train and knowing that you can leave some of your troubles behind is one to savour.

Sherborne, for those who don't know, is a lovely little west country town, with many late medieval buildings still surviving. The stone used is a sandy brown colour and when seen in the sunlight lifts the spirits, certainly after a pint or two of local cider.

On arrival and then went for a meal at the top of the high street - the weather was already turning. The pub where we ate was nice and old, but the food not great. The house wine was utterly, utterly ghastly. I hate how pubs still fail to realise what a house wine should be - it is not simply the cheapest wine you can get hold of. It is meant to represent the house!

On the next day we met my grandmother and went to Sherborne's 'New Castle', which began life as Sir Walter Raleigh's hunting lodge in the early 1600s. Sir Walt fell foul of James I and lost his head. His Sherborne property was then appropriated by the Digby family, a branch of which still owns the New Castle and large tracts of Sherborne and its environs.

The New Castle was built like so many country manors by adding wings and extensions here and there. There was a uniformity about the exterior, but internally it was almost like a labyrinth. It reminded me of Rawlinson End, the wonderful creation of Vivian Stanshall. His opening line seemed most appropriate:

'English as tuppence, changing yet changeless as canal water, nestling in green nowhere...'

The castle contains many paintings and old suites of armour. It is indeed English as tuppence.

We also went to the abbey, a late medieval survivor that avoided the wrath of Henry VIII after the townspeople brought the premises as a 'parish church' for around £350 - a huge sum. Henry always preferred ready cash and so allowed the abbey to survive.

It's an amazing space, filled with gothic touches here, there and everywhere. Just my cup of tea. I really recommend a visit. There are also the stone slabs from the tombs of former abbots and priests to be found. On one of them I saw a little medieval monk's face staring back at me.

On the next day Maria was badly ill from food poisoning, which she caught from the HALF MOON PUB's restaurant. I left her to recover and went to visit with my grandmother the site where my grandfather's ashes lie, the first time I'd been able to do this. The churchyard is wonderfully peaceful place and it made me happy to see that this spot was chosen. Unfortunately it soon started to spit with rain and we headed back.

In no time at all, Maria and I were back in grim old London. Perversely, the sun was shining, suggesting the capital had experienced wonderful weather for the whole of the weekend! Maria spent all of Monday recovering...

Helpdesk 1500

2009-04-19T20:31:00.004+01:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pQHX-SjgQvQ

A helpdesk situation in a Norwegian monastery circa 1500.

Well it made me laugh!

Dog tired

2009-04-18T12:49:00.005+01:00

Ye gads what a week! Thursday and yesterday were pure madness: I had so much to do that my head was left spinning.

On Thursday I worked from 9.00am to 8.30pm without a lunchbreak and only enough time to grab two packets of monster munch (a peculiar brand of English potato chips that would horrify most visitors if they were told to eat them!)

Friday was tough too: 8.30am-7.00pm, but at least I had a lunchbreak.

All this rushing around has put my Arnhem article on the backburner. I hope to make good headway on it this weekend, however. Somewhat annoyingly the photos I ordered to accompany the article still haven't come through. I'll have to phone my contact and start badgering him. I find that once the visual side of an article is in place you become inspired to get the work done and dusted. I'm also thinking of drawing up a map, but I'm not so good at illustrating so I might leave this to the side for the time being.

Away from Arnhem, I'm reading through my medieval books and thinking longterm of trying to write a novel. This will be more a labour of love than anything commercially successful.

A while go it was a dream of mine to get published. I even had a carefully-crafted synopsis for a work on Poland 1920 (a major European campaign that saw Bolshevik Russia thwarted from dominating eastern Europe in the interwar period). Three publishers liked my idea: all three rejected it. Each one was of the opinion there was no market for it, which I thought badly short-sighted.

The history of eastern Europe will start to become more and more familiar to the British as the nations from this region start to make their mark in the EU. Plus the readership of English books on Polish history is, I think, a large one. I was amazed, for example, that in Poland they were selling English books on Poland in their shops - and not tucked away in the side in the foreign language section, but in the centre of the shop as you walk in. Hmmm time will tell about all this I'd say.

More later....

Mr Brown's refined sounds

2009-04-05T23:21:00.004+01:00

Ye gads this week was hectic. I'm on the hamster wheel, but there's no stopping: there are too many bills to pay.

Mind you, the credit crunch wasn't biting hard this evening as I was cooking up sirloin steak this evening. Except it wasn't sirloin: it was just steak. Just like GCSEs and A levels labels no longer carry the value they once did, even when it comes to steak. What the hell am I talking about?

On the mouse front, I went and purchased steel wool to jam into the gaps near the pipes. I was told by the woman at the hardware shop that steel wool was best, because mice can eat through regular wire. Eat wire?! Mice will inherit the earth... Steel wool is too tough, she said. It will wreck their jaws. Good. Let's hope so. In the meantime, I purchased another sonic blaster that only rodents can hear. I'm hoping that my house, in mouse terms, is now like living 24 hours with the South African rugby team at a free bar.

My good friend American Dave is currently roaming around the madhouse that is the Balkans, taking a holiday - yes a holiday - in Kosovo. His comments are well worth reading and his blog 'refined notes and raw sounds' is at http://soccerthesis.blogspot.com/. In many ways I'm quite envious of American Dave and his ability to see the new and amazing in all things. He's a refined New World chap who leaves many of his preconceptions at the door. I, on the other hand, are filled with judgemental loathing... Hell is indeed other people.

Talking of hell, I've been reading an excellent book on the detritus of the medieval world, such as objects washed up along the Thames, and what these everyday items can tell us about the period. It's fascinating stuff and goes to show how bawdy our medieval ancestors could be.

The Whicker man

2009-03-30T18:40:00.003+01:00

Mr Whicker I bow in reverence to you. Last I night I watched the first part of his four-part trip back through his career, touching base with some of the many amazing people he has met.

Now it might seem strange, but I am a bit of a Whicker fan: the suit, the erudite style, the ability to remain polite even when talking to blood-thirsty dictators are just some of the many hallmarks of a true gentleman. And, setting the etiquette and sartorial points aside, there’s another key as to what makes Whicker great: he never becomes the centre of attention of his work. The subject being filmed always remains the focus. Compare this with many of today’s celeb interviewers, many of whom just stay studio bound and ask lame questions from the comfort of a Ikea sofa.

And Whicker was – sorry is – a properly fearless journalist. His sense of self-assurance and ability to put people at ease from all classes (it a common misconception that he just focussed on the rich and famous) made his style seem almost, dare I say it, appear inordinately easy.

Anyway, even watching just a few minutes of this latest series will remind you how good the British television could be…

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I’m still slowly trying to get through the Polish article. It’s probably the toughest article I’ve ever attempted simply because the combat descended into a morass of streetfighting: organisation had broken down by the time the Poles arrived, with the British 1st Airborne simply battling to survive. This makes it hard to put the pieces together. Plus there is enough backstabbing and intrigue to fill a book, let alone a small 4000-word article.

In the longer term, I think this will be the last article of its kind. I want to centre on writing a historical novel. I’ve already done a lot of research in this regard and now feel that I have a good enough storyline to go forward. But this is old news…

On the mouse front, I have taken the French military outlook of the 1920s and 1930s and decided defence is the best form of defence. I’ve barricaded the hole over the pipes and purchased a sonic blaster that only rodents can hear. I hope it fries their mouse minds the little bastards.

You won the battle, but not the war

2009-03-15T23:28:00.002Z

Damn, Damn, Damn. Another mouse!!! There must be a nest of the gits. I will have to lay a series of traps and call the pest people.

Bugger.

Victory is mine!

2009-03-15T11:26:00.004Z

Veni, vidi, vici! The mouse - with all its cunning and guile - made a fatal mistake.

This morning Maria discovered that my nemesis had been crushed in one of the traps. Her squeals got me out of bed and while she was saying 'take it away! take it away!' I was punching the air and surveying the scene of victory, which was unexpected I must admit.

Much earlier in the week, the mouse had made another appearance. It had targeted my bakery-baked bread, which led me to believe that I'd never catch the fiend; with some annoyance I blocked up the hole.

But as the French discovered in 1940: no defences are impenetrable. Somehow it broke out and decided to have another go at the bread.

On the way back it got careless...

It had something of a last laugh, however, as I'd eaten some slices from the loaf early this morning not thinking anything of it. God knows what horrid pathogens I've devoured.

Mouse, mouse,
You broke into my house,
And I laid two traps and planned,

Mouse, mouse,
You hid under the fridge,
As I hunted with my frying pan,

Mouse, mouse,
Never haunt my halls again,
Burn in hell with the rodent damned!

Evil Mouse

2009-03-08T15:43:00.003Z

This means war: the mouse has now taken his contempt of me to the next level. I caught him shuffling around on the wine rack (again) and, as he hid, I grabbed a frying pan and prepared to deliver the coup de grace. He landed on the floor as I approached and then darted under the fridge, avoiding - by the skin of his pudgy tail - being squished. He then fled past two mouse traps and squeezed through the hole by the pipes.

I decided to create a 'tunnel of death', placing sticky tape on the sides of the piping, leading to a mouse trap. Essentially, the little bugger would be forced to cross the trap if he wanted to get into the kitchen. To make my cunning plan more cunning still, I placed a lump of cheese on top of some peanut butter and dabbed a bit of curry paste on the top.

A few days later, I discovered the cheese had gone. Using ninja skills, the mouse had avoided becoming entangled by the tape; grabbed the cheese without setting off the trap's spring; and then made his way back to safety! My 'Tunnel of Death' was nothing more than a 'Tunnel of Buffet'.

To make matters worse, Maria discovered I'd bent the frying pan and forced me to go out and buy another.

I will have vengeance in this life or the next!

On Saturday morning I slogged all the way to the Sikorski Museum, which they had kindly opened and allowed me to enter the archives. I was looking through hundreds of photographs to accompany my article. It was so amazing to look through these images - it takes you back to another time; another era. In fact, when you look at the shots - some of which were quite famous - in the context of entire albums you gain a far more in depth idea of what events were like.

Some of the images, however, were unsettling to say the least. But they remind you just how unbelievably horrific war was and is, and how much these old veterans - their ranks now thinned out by the passage of time - had to go through.

Mouse hunt

2009-02-25T21:49:00.004Z

Damn it the mouse re-appeared last night! We've taken the tape off from its exit point near the hot water pipes and placed a mouse trap next to it. I've even added tempting peanut butter to lure the damn thing to its death. And yet there it was again by the wine rack without a thought of putting its neck on the block for me. I've put another trap down under the old vino, hoping that he'll get careless... fat chance. And talking of fat - you should see the size of this thing! It should be paying rent.

Two nights ago I went to a lecture - well actually a Q&A - hosted by Peter Owen-Jones at St James's in Piccadilly. Owen-Jones is the C-of-E priest who has recently had a show called 'Around the world in 80 faiths' aired on the BBC. He's done other intersting shows on religion before this as well, including 'Extreme Pilgrim'. I really recommend these shows for those who want to find out about - albeit very briefly - some of the central religions (and not so central) that people follow around the world.

I was a little disappointed by his live talk - not with him, but more by the format. In Q&A, opinion from the audience muddies the point. Often people make points just to interject with what they think rather than allowing the speaker to fully express their thoughts and opinion. I would have liked Owen-Jones to really talk through some of the sights and sounds he had seen rather than delving into long arguments about the decline of the Western Church, which is what the conversation wound up being.

That said, he had some very crisp and original thoughts on this last topic. I also found his condemnation of 'saving people' and evangelical preaching quite refreshing. Religion is a choice, and you should behave to others as you would have them behave to you were his final conclusions. An original/unoriginal line to take, as it were.

One final point: the audience demographic was very interesting. It was like wandering into a WI meeting of Guardian newspaper readers!

Party like its 1399

2009-02-18T14:40:00.003Z

I got home last night fairly early for a working day - that is I got through the door before 6pm. Anyway I noticed how the dark the street was before entering my hall. I flicked the light switch and nothing happened. We were suffering a power cut.

My neighbour told me that EDF had cut the power at 3pm and it was set to come back on at 9.30pm. I had to light a load of candles and sit trying to read a book in what can only be described as monastic conditions!

Luckily, my fiancee was back from work fairly early and so we went to get a Korean meal underneath Edison's greatest invention (or Swan, depending on your preference).

Coming back we noticed a man tinkering away near lines next to one of those large green boxes the power is routed through. He was wearing a Virgin Media jacket and his truck was emblazoned with the Virgin Media logo. Asked what had happened, he claimed a wire had burnt up, but he was just about to turn the power supply back on. This was good news, although I had the feeling we were being given a half truth. I suspect - and this is only a hunch - that someone had cut through the wrong wire while installing something to do with broadband or cable. Someone like...

Overall this week is crawling by, mainly because the intensity of my work load has gone up. I've never had much energy, so I've been feeling more tired recently. I've got so much to do, but come the weekend I just feel like sleeping. That said, I've started to make progress on my Arnhem article. Strangely I've dealt with the politics of the situation - how the British generals knived the Poles and their commander in the back - first and have set the action to the side for the time being.

I think I can make this a really interesting article, but I need to get on with things!

The beautiful city

2009-02-10T21:20:00.006Z

For most of the year, London is a grim, grey and rough-edged city. But now and then its beauty can suddenly reveal itself, leaving you inspired. But you have to be quick to recognise the moment and capture the picture in your mind's eye. At these times you can understand why Monet fell in love with the city.

This shot was taken from Blackfriars Bridge looking west towards the Embankment. I just wish my mobile phone camera was more powerful!

A week to forget

2009-02-08T11:32:00.004Z

Ye gads what a week. I was snowed in at the start, like everyone else in south of England. On Tuesday I made it back to London; I had to walk to work with the holes in my shoes letting in icy water.

Work then went wrong on Thursday and, as always, I took things to heart and have been mulling away on the matter ever since. I know the source of the problem and can, I think, get a solution.

Thank goodness for the weekend, I thought. On Friday night I went into the kitchen and there, sniffing the wine rack, was a mouse. I'm a little ashamed to say that I shrieked like a girl, but then chased after the damn thing. It rushed under the fridge-freezer, which I promptly pulled away from the wall. Murder was on my mind. I heard some scurrying and then... the mouse had gone! How it could of disappeared I have no idea. Frankly, this mouse made David Copperfield seem an amateur.

But as if the mouse issue wasn't enough: last night the neighbours decided to party...again. But at 3.30 am. They've done this before and their utter contempt for the people living around them drives me up the wall. I'll have to get on to the council. I know I sound like an old grumpy git, but as I work hard in the week, I really need my weekend to recharge my batteries.

All this blog is just me ranting I suppose. On one positive note, I managed to secure an excellent image for my up and coming Arnhem article. I must get in contact with my Polish veteran.

Siberia or southern England?

2009-02-03T23:50:00.002Z

Why Iggy, why?

2009-01-28T19:12:00.005Z

Rock is dead, long live…car insurance? I can not believe that Iggy Pop is now selling products for Swift Cover! In the adverts he pulls the usual faces etc, but looks for all the world like a washed out parody of the Iggy we know and love (or is it knew and loved?)

And insurance for goodness sake! Iggy Pop was about getting up on stage, slashing himself up and behaving badly: not exactly the ethos most insurance salesmen live by.

There are countless other recent examples of Rock stars 'selling out' in the UK . I’m thinking here of the Norwich Union adverts that use Ringo Starr and Alice Cooper; or Johnny Rotten flogging, of all things, English butter.

Rock stars have always sold merchandise, of course. Indeed, some would even argue that the music they make is, at its most basic level, nothing more than a disposable consumer item (although I'd disagree with this outlook). Very rarely a work of real artistic value will be released and become universally recognised as something special.

Overall, I think we can offer our Rock gods a little leeway here and there when it comes to making a quick buck. Certainly, we now all accept that their music, if populist enough, will be used to accompany TV adverts. But there is a fixed line beyond which no rock star worth his or her salt should be allowed to cross. Iggy you crossed it... J'accuse Iggy! J'accuse...

Back in the ‘real world’, I spent yesterday and today's lunch breaks in pursuit of the late 19th Century. By which I mean I was taking ‘now’ photos for the ‘then and now’ section on my website for London 1896. This involved photocopying the relevant view from a book of the period and then attempting to track down the very spot where photographer stood 113 years ago.

It was really tricky along Fleet Street and the Strand . Almost everything has changed even on these venerable streets. Only major buildings of historical or cultural importance have survived, including churches, pubs and the Royal Courts of Justice. It was enough, however, to allow me to succeed in getting the right shots.

On an even more mundane level, my shoes are now thoroughly leaking. I must get hold of new pair - I'm now wandering around in deck shoes!

At the fair

2009-01-25T18:29:00.005Z

Today I slogged into London to go to a postcard fair, even though the weather was utterly grim. I have to get hold of some new shoes; I can't keep walking along with soggy socks.

Anyway, at the fair I managed to hit gold dust - six postcards showing humorous incidents depicting British Machine Gunners from WWI. It offered a direct insight into some of the humour the gunners voiced regarding their role and the work they had to do. For me the cards were important because they opened up another tagible link to the world my great grandfather, Alfred Adams, occupied. I was also pleased to haggle off a fiver, which is always a little bonus.

In the meantime, I also managed to buy a couple of decent images for London at night at the tun of the last century. I will use them to accompany my dissertation work on my website.

Oh I almost forgot: On another positive note my jottings regarding research on Alfred Adams and tracking down the site of where he probably died has been published in the latest edition of the National Archive's magazine Ancestors. They did a good job on the design work and I am pleased with the overall result.

I've managed an extra hundred words or so on the Poles at Arnhem article, but I still lack the drive to really sit down and get the work in the can, as they say. I think my interest will increase when the veteran I am corresponding with writes a reply to my letter. I'm hoping he will emphasise his personal experiences a little more.

Finally, I've just about recovered from the week of hellish early starts. I spent most of yesterday sleeping and most of today - once I got back home - watching low-rent TV. It's amazing how you can get sucked into watching the weirdest stuff. I found myself watching and then making in depth comments on Australia's next top model - the horror, the horror...

Early to rise

2009-01-20T23:08:00.007Z

As a moment it was, no doubt, a historical one; the size of the crowd alone commands our attention.

But on a personal level it was a weird experience watching Obama's inauguration - weird because as the history was happening, I was also hammering away at the keyboard trying to get my work done, nearly screaming at the monitor while the damn blue swirly thing kept swirling and not processing! Perhaps we should go back to using Caxton's printing press.

Today the excitement of events in the USA were dulled by having to get into work insanely early. I felt like I had to get up before I went to bed as it were. Indeed, it felt like evening still... Mind you, the city looked fantastic from Blackfriars bridge this morning. An inky-purple sky, broken up by the large towers and office blocks. It was a painter's delight.

Tomorrow, I'll probably be too tired to appreciate the view...

True courage

2009-01-19T19:43:00.010Z

I thought it would be worthwhile to highlight a small slice of what the Polish veteran from Arnhem saw and went through all those years ago. In a very down-to-earth letter, he told me how he jumped from the aircraft straight into upcoming German small arms and automatic fire.

Upon hitting the ground he rushed to his assembly point, still under fire. Managing to reach the village of Driel, he and his good friend then took cover in an orchard. It was at this point German mortars started a barrage.

It was at this point his friend was killed, but not outright. He was hit in the stomach and, in his death throes, cried out for morphine. The shells kept coming: 'I was lying on my stomach...and some fruit fell on my back and I started to pray as I believed I had been hit by shrapnel'.

In this small snippet we gain a vital insight into the sheer terror that men can face in combat and how the mind, faced with fearsome sights and sounds, can dictate the body's response regardless of the reality; in a normal situation he would have shrugged off the fruit falling on his back, but in the middle of a barrage it felt as though it was shrapnel tearing into his body. The damage, he believed was so bad that pain was factored out by the mind.

And here's where the courage comes in. This man, or should we say boy - he was still a teenager at the time of Operation Market Garden - picked himself up and, though shaken to the core, then continued with the fight. He performed his duty.

I count myself lucky to speak to people like this.

On a more mundane level I've started to work on my 'then [1896] and now' section of my website. I've had to combine the images with googlepages as they come out far clearer on this platform. For those with a passing interest in the matter the link is:
http://www.historicaleye.com/London1896.html

Finding a balance

2009-01-17T13:36:00.007Z

Maria is back from India two weeks early. The place did not suit her at all and the locations the tour company took her were less than salubrious. Actually, they often ended up in neighbourhoods that were little better than slums, where rubbish was left to rot in the street and beggars pestered them for money. My version of a holiday from hell if you ask me and confirmed time and again by many of the photos Maria had taken.

The sad part of the trip was that interspersing the grim procession of poverty were lovely buildings, including the beautiful Taj Mahal, and other sites that reminded her of what she thought the trip would be like 100% of the time.

The last straw for Maria was falling ill and having to wallow in cold hotels with minimal standards. If you go on a backpacking holiday you expect a degree of roughing it, but when you have booked through a reputable tour company and paid a fair sum of money....

Meanwhile, I am preparing for the week from hell, where I have to job cover at work. I've not had the length of training I wanted, but the situation requires I start immediately. The hours I have to be in the office are disturbingly early: 7.30am. Dear God, I thought having to work before 8.30 was against the Hague Conventions at the very least...

The chap I knew from school has also been given a job. It was a bit odd at first. We shook hands, I gave him a warm welcome, but then we were stuck for words. I guess we didn't have much in common back then, so it's to be expected that we wouldn't just start chatting away like old friends.

The Polish veteran who was at Arnhem has sent me a brief outline of his memories, which inspired me to ask more questions! These I have written down and will send to him. I hope he has the time to reply even with a few further remarks. I really want to find out as much as possible from him, simply because witnesses to events are so thin on the ground now.

The arrival of his letter has spurred me into starting the article proper. I've managed to write up about 8,000 words of notes for a 4,000 word article! And even then, my notes are still incomplete, I feel. But there is a lot to be said about over researching a subject, which can be a danger. Taking too much of the minutiae into account can dilute the impact of an article and the arguments it seeks to highlight. Of course this is not an excuse to simply read a few overviews and then forget about getting to grips with relevant sources etc. It is about finding the right balance I think.

Wroclaw shots

2009-01-14T00:19:00.007Z

Wading through the photos on my computer today, I found all the shots I'd taken in Wroclaw. I seem to remember thinking I'd put a couple up, but then I forgot - as usual for my swiss-cheesed brain.

So here are a couple of them, including yours truly swigging a pint. Ahhh beer... it's always the solution...

When ghosts from the past visit the present

2009-01-12T19:44:00.005Z

Today was a little strange: a journalist arrived for a job interview to fill a vacant position where I work. Not so weird, you’d say, except that this chap was in the year below me at my school and we were in the same ‘house’ together.

Another odd thing: I can not remember much about him. Only two episodes stick in my mind. Firstly, he refused to lend me his copy of a Beatles anthology and secondly he shorted the house toaster by trying to fish out a stuck piece of bread with a knife. It was probably a really dangerous situation, but no one cared. We were more concerned that the toaster was now out of action.

Ten years later – a lifetime later – and here we are. I didn’t say hello etc, as this would have been inappropriate, I think. If he gets the gig, I will.

Further on, and more nerve jangling, is the approach of my appraisal. I hate these things. They always end up turning into a form of Maoist self criticism. I bet the managers don’t have to do them…

Also annoying is the hole in my right Chelsea boot, which upsets me greatly as I’ve only been wearing this pair for a few months now. There is nothing quite like the skin crawling feel of walking around the cold, grey city of London, with a soggy right foot.

Maria is in India on her long holiday. I hope she is doing okay, she caught a nasty bug out there. Thank goodness she packed anti-biotics. I miss her a great deal. Plus on of her best uses (among many) is that she reminds me its time to get some sleep when I am pottering about...

But none of this is the raison d'etre for my blog. Let’s turn to other matters.

GW gave his last press conference today and I’ve been thinking about how he will be viewed by history. Poorly, most likely.

Here was a man confronted with one of the greatest tests any US president has faced since Pearl Harbour, who then listened to misguided hawks who pushed for war in Iraq. Interestingly, at the time I think I supported the decision. Not because of the WMDs, but because Saddam was a mudering thug who needed to be toppled.

The ‘victory’ was foolishly lost (and the declaration that victory was secured was insane). After VE day there were hundreds of thousands of troops available and the rule of law quickly returned (although not in Italy). I suspect there was an element of doing things on the cheap in Iraq by not having the boots on the ground. And Iraq is a huge place…

I think that America has finally started to stumble towards finding a solution: US-style democracy will never happen and that local politicians with their powerbases should be incorporated, rather than crushed. It means that major fault lines are left to exist, but at least the structure of government, however crooked, will still stand. A case of something better than anarchy, which was what Iraq was sliding towards a few years ago.

More problematic when it comes to the history books will be the treatment meted out to America’s captured enemies. Take Saddam and his henchmen: letting them be tried by a court that quickly turned into an utter shambles was a vast error. The Hague would have been a far better setting with a lot more gravitas too.

Then we have, as GW himself flagged up, the issue of prisoner mistreatment…

On the domestic front, Hurricane Katrina – again GW highlighted this – will stand as a major stain on his presidential career. As C-in-C, a politician has to take advice from his military commanders. The decisions he (or she) takes are informed by them. In domestic matters, particularly natural disasters, the public looks and requires presidential initiative. GW really should have visited the city earlier. The excuse offered was that his presence would have diverted the attention of the law enforcement agencies; this is more than little weak.

But history is written by those with the best publicists, the sharpest ghost writers and the wittiest after-dinner speeches and so, inthis respect alone, GW’s record is doomed.

I've started to read a biography on the president of Iran, Ahmadinejad, which is interesting to say the least. A politcal chancer, with an amazing ability to manipulate and pull the strings of the Western media. There is also a ruthless side to him that I'm sure will come out later in the book.

Finally, I'm getting to grips with Mortimer's Guide to the 14th Century for Time Travellers, which is fantastic. Were it not for the plague, the short life expextancy, the back-breaking work and the lashings of ultra-violence, I'd have quite liked to live back then!

New Year

2008-12-31T21:34:00.004Z

Another year down - what a year too! In all I think it was a good vintage. Certainly the highlight was my engagement in Reims, a wonderful memory that will always be with me. It was a great location, despite Maria's initial grumbling! Mumm is now our champagne of choice, not because of the taste because of the memory attached to it. In fact I often think taste is firmly linked to memory.

Other elements of the year have been notable too. I've secured a job, although in many respects much is lacking in this area and that dressing down I received a few months ago still haunts me. I have to remind myself that a good job in these tough times is something rare and, overall, I enjoy being with the people I work with.

It's also important to remember how utterly depressing and soul destroying unemployment is. Ruskin (at least I think it was him) said a man without work is the most sad sight to see. Meanwhile, those who refuse to work... well I won't say what I think, as it would probably end up being a Daily Mail rant.

In other matters, I now have my own website and I think it brings out the best in my work from over the years. It will also host future efforts, including the Arnhem feature. This reminds me that I must get fully to grip with getting the notes from Poles Apart finally written up. Sadly the magazine I write my history articles for can no longer pay the same amount it used to due to a slump in advertising. I fear that this might be the last article I write of this type.

Maybe this is no terrible thing. I still want to grapple with writing up a novel so I can focus my energies on this. All I'll need is lashings of determination - which is easier said than done!

Christmas was excellent as always. I had a roast dinner, which is something I've not had in a million years, or so it seems.

The strange thing about going home - albeit for a short period this year - is that I have to walk into what I consider something of a personal time capsule. All around my room are objects and books all purchased up to the date of 2001 when I then went to seek my fortune (which I never found) in London. On the shelves are photo albums from the late 90s. In the drawers of my bedside table are diaries from years back, all filled with thoughts I believed to be important, but now seem parochial and mundane.

And, to some extent, I feel jealous of my teenage self who had so much open to him, but who took a wrong turn at some point. Well not a wrong turn, because I would never have met Maria. But still, there was always the possibility that my band could have been bigger than the Beatles and Stones rolled into one... Or perhaps not.

Sometimes I also wonder if I should have joined the army, which I thought about once or twice. And although I don't take to orders easily, there was something about the military lifestle engrained into me from when I was a boy. Of course there would have been Bosnia, Kosovo, Iraq and Afghanistan to worry about if I had made the choice! I think that deep down I had also seen how poorly the army had treated many good men in the Options for Change cull, which has still - after over a decade - badly affected the British army's ability to keep its manpower. It was one of the greatest mistakes of John Major's government to slash back on defence so much.

But let's leave this tangent and other reflections behind and raise a glass - or a beer can - to 2009!

Link to Arnhem

2008-12-03T19:20:00.003Z

This weekend most of my time was spent researching the Poles at Arnhem and Driel. Indeed, I have finally finished reading the excellent book Poles Apart, which was written in 1992 by Polish-American author who interviewed a number of key witnesses to the battle. I was struck by the depth of his research and his readable style. His account certainly underlined the immense sacrifice that the Poles made - a sacrifice that is often only briefly examined, or even forgotten, in British and American accounts. Getting hold of this book proved immensely difficult, but fortunately I was able to use the interlibrary loan system. Had I not been able to do so, I would have been forced to spend a great deal of my time sitting in the Führer bunker that is the British library.

Earlier, I had asked my friends at the Sikorski Institute and Museum if they knew of any surviving veterans. I was told to contact a lady who ran the Polish Paratroopers' Association that had only just been wound down. She kindly suggested I contact a gentleman who was 18 or 19 when he parachuted into Arnhem. His memory of events, she said, was still very good and it would be well worth my time asking if he would be willing to speak about his time during the war.

I sent a card outlining my aims and objectives, but heard nothing more; I assumed that either my letter had not reached him or he was unwilling to speak of his experiences. It was with some surprise, then, that at the end of last week to be contacted by his son asking if I was who I said I was. I replied I was indeed who I said I was, and was able to send a link to my Monte Cassino article as an example of my work. Anyway, the long and short of it is that I am now in contact with a Polish veteran who fought at Arnhem, which, for me, is like striking historical gold dust!

History where you work

2008-11-16T13:35:00.003Z

Oddly enough I've not mentioned that I work in a very historic area of London. Near to me is the site of the old Blackfriars monastery, which Henry VIII had dissolved. A number of years later the theatre crowd moved in, including one William Shakespeare who owned some property in the area. There's bundles of more history to be discovered so I'll definitely be digging a little deeper into this area.

It's strange to think that in the Square Mile that there is so much history, but that the area is very much caught up in the 'now'. New buildings are going up, old ones are renovated, while others are taken down. The credit crunch might put pay to a lot of the work, however.

Some months ago I purchased a book of London views from 1896. Taking photocopies from this book, I've managed to go to the same spot as the photographer and look at what has changed. A great deal! But what surprises me most is the amount of surviving buildings and street layout. I still say that London is very much a late Victorian city/early Edwardian city, certainly in terms of homes and public houses.

As I was looking at Ludgate Circus I spotted a surveyor photographer taking shots from the exact spot the late Victorian cameraman had chosen. I walked up to him and said 'someone got here before you' and showed him the photocopy. He was very interested and thought the scene from the early 1890s quite amazing and I let him keep the printout. Its great to grab a person's interest in this manner. The past is such an interesting place, and I despair of how some of the teachers I had managed to make is all appear so dull!

One man, one vote

2008-11-04T19:59:00.002Z

Well its finally here: the US election is upon us at last. It seems Obama has got it in the bag, thank God. I know his policies are thin on the ground. Actually, what the hell does he stand for other than 'change'? But I still get that American Studies vibe when I see him in action. All the positive feelings I have towards the USA come to the fore and I think of that country's vast and still untapped potential.

McCain was, sadly, the right man for the job back when Bush first took control. What a differant world I think we would be were McCain in charge. Afghanistan would have been a victorious campaign and Iraq and Saddam contained but not invaded - perhaps. Well certainly there wouldn't have been the Rumbo/Cheney world outlook.

But this is water under the bridge now. Obama has the ball in his court and will, as the first mixed race president, come under almost microscopic scrutiny. The love affair people have with him will end and then his true test as a leader will begin. Let's hope he has the calibre of men like Lincoln, Roosevelt and JFK.

Fear of the morning alarm

2008-10-21T14:48:00.002+01:00

These days everything seems up in the air: the economy looks like it might have hit a trough. Government ministers and treasury cronies are advocating Keynesian economic policies, although there is no money left in the pot by all accounts. The appearance of confidence - albeit a massive bluff - might just get the wheels turning again. Who knows.

On a personal level I am starting to dread work and going in. My nerves are jumpy right now: I try my best, but things always seem on the verge of something terrible. I guess that dressing down I received has really stayed with me. I will keep trying and pushing to improve, but it's all very hard.

I must strive to get on with extra work in my spare time and get on with research for that novel I'm thinking of. Perhaps I should also buy a lottery ticket. To win a few million would be very welcome indeed!

My website has grown to respectable propotions and I now want to get some more images and photos in to play. I also want to begin re-visiting my great grandfather's story, which I think is very worthwhile. I did a lot of research two years ago, but got distracted from writing things up.

I forgot to mention that my William Drake article was published by Ancestors magazine and it looked very good indeed: they had sourced a good number of photos and images (including shots of various log books in which William Drake was mentioned).

Credit madness

2008-10-08T20:27:00.003+01:00

Karl Marx has been on my mind in these crazy credit munching, crunching times. Was the glum bastard right after all?

Obviously he couldn't possibly foresee how instant communications could become and how small the world would be for trading nations. Neither could he have fathomed the extent to which science would fuel and reinvent our economies. But the old boy was right about economic cycles...

It looks like that our generation that grew up with one of the largest periods of growth is about to experience the deepest, darkest periods of - at best - stagnation. At worse? Well it won't be like the late 20s and early 30s with soup lines and the like, but it'll be seriously grim.

I guess the banks were mainlining on credit and monster profits and, like all serious junkies, took it too far. To carry the analogy further, today we have seen Gordon Brown and Darling trying - like the bearded guy in Pulp Fiction - to inject a hefty dose of adrenaline into the over dosed fiscal body.

In decades to come, how will historians look back on all this? It's interesting to speculate. And then we throw into the mix a US Presidential election and overseas wars... could the web be any larger or more complex.

My good friend American Dave would probably lean back, shrug his shoulders and come up with a good one liner here. He has a knack of condensing a brutal situation into a resonant sound bite. Well I remember when we were eating grits in a diner on our first day in New Orleans and he asked me if I'd seen the dead body outside. I hadn't and thought he was winding me up. At that moment a policeman entered and asked one and all if 'anyone had seen anything'. It was a sobering moment and I told Dave so. 'Relax,' he said 'it's just the American Dream in action'.

Pottering on

2008-10-05T21:50:00.002+01:00

Another week down and another week starting. I always think the weekends are too short - three days would be so much better.

The pressure at work is still on, but last week I think I put in a good performance. It's tough to hit 100% every day, day in day out. I'll keep trying. In the meantime, I'm going to keep reading my books and plotting that novel. Obviously I'll keep writing the old histroy articles too. I'm still reading through Arnhem material. I think I'll get it finished by November. I'd like to really digest the book Poles Apart, but the only copy I can find is in the British Library, which isn't really great for reading. Well we'll see how things go.

My website is looking a little more comprehensive now. I was also pleased to upload my Gurkha article, which was meant to be published by Military History (why it wasn't I have no idea and it was annoying because they asked me to write the damn thing). Anyway, I'm glad its find a place to live and will, I hope, offer some people an idea of the debt we still owe the men from Nepal.

Dust off

2008-10-01T14:21:00.003+01:00

Well I'm slowly getting my confidence back. It's still a little tough to pick yourself up, dust yourself down and get back into things.

Anyway, yesterday I went for my nameday at the Pilsudski Institute. All my friends were there and much booze was consumed!

Sadly one of my pals became very ill again (it happened almost like a re-run of last time) and an ambulance was called. He was okay, but it was still upsetting really.

More later as the battery is about to die on my laptop!

Dress down

2008-09-27T13:23:00.002+01:00

I got a dressing down at the start of this week. Obviously I can not go into detail, but it was very painful. Indeed, I'll candidly admit that I was something of a wreck until Wednesday. It could have been handled much, much better.

I was quite depressed, and when I get depressed I think heavily about the past and prior mistakes. I dwell and mull, and then dwell and mull again. I've always been jealous of those types who can wake up and view the new day as a new start, who are optimistic in the face of adversity.

Still I didn't cry off and I kept on at it, which is the most important point. Hopefully I move forward and deliver 100%.

My website comes on apace, although my Internet link has been playing up terribly.

Time flies

2008-09-21T23:34:00.002+01:00

Another week down and it's back to work. Really the weekend should be three days long: it takes Saturday to shake off the week, but Sunday is never enough to re-charge the old batteries.

I went back to Hampshire on the weekend to look at wedding stuff in the venue with have chosen. We also popped back into the church, which my grand mother wanted to look at. I love Thruxton church: it is so English and old. In fact it is everything that I love about England and the countryside. It's a pity that the vicar back in the 1840s went nuts and planted lots of trees all over the place! One particular tree really should get cut down: it is right in the perfect place for a group wedding shot. It also blocks a lot of the light from getting to the stained glass windows. But look at me wittering on about trees!

I also re-read some of the old diaries I wrote back in the early 1990s. It's very strange reading words you wrote such a long time ago. You know that you wrote them, but they still fell as though someone else did... I guess the past - even your own past - can seem like a foreign country. Another thing that took me back a little was my hatred of French. This is strange because my memory tells me that I loathed maths most of all, but there, in black and white - well scribbled pencil lines - are my very own words clearly showing I spent most of my time worrying about French vocab, spelling and tests. But here's the thing: I wasn't terrible at French and I certainly knew more of the lingo at my first school than at my second school. There's something in all of this, but it'll take me a while to figure it out!

Webmaster

2008-09-14T15:09:00.001+01:00

I've finally - well almost - joined the modern world and set up my own website. Okay it's nothing glorious with swish graphics flying around and stuff, but it will do the job.

It hosts my work and will, I hope, give an extra lease of life to old articles that I worked hard on.

Feel free to have a look at:

www.historicaleye.com

I'd rather go to Gdansk

2008-09-03T19:26:00.003+01:00

I've been back from Wroclaw for a few days now, but was too tired to write a new blog. Frankly, this week has been non stop and I think I'm in need of a new holiday!

The Polish town close to the German border has something of a dual personality: until 1945 it was firmly part of Germany and much of the buildings stem from this era. Actually I should say the reproduced buildings: Wroclaw, or Breslau as it was known, was flattened during the war after Hitler declared the beautiful city a festung - a fortress. The Germans fought hard and made the battle one of terrible proportions. Indeed, Breslau was still holding out on May 9, 1945, the date of the unconditional surrender of the Third Reich to the USSR. The top Nazis had, predictably, fled the city by then.

The Germans were evicted and Poles, many coming from Lvov (which was in turn given to the Ukraine) moved in as the USSR shifted Poland's borders westwards.

It says a great deal for the Polish character that rather than obliterating the Germanic past, they chose to rebuild it and, fairly I would say, adapt it for their own needs. Obviously there wasn't too much money to be had in the grim porridge-coloured post war years the Poles resorted to using concrete, concrete and more concrete for the new apartment blocks, factories and warehouses.

Today the modern vibrant Poland is starting to rise up, slowly knock down the grim flak tower apartment blocks and put into place lighter, glass structures. That said too much of the brutalist stuff remains.

We wasted a lot of our time wallowing around in the hotel, but saw most of the city as we went from Friday to Friday. The market square was an obvious highlight, but I have to be frank and say that aside from this area Wroclaw has little to recommend it. It is a weekend place really.

Most of the waiters and waitresses, shopkeepers etc were fairly morose too. Almost unhappy with the level of tourists. They were like this in Krakow, but here more so. I can only imagine that the stag parties and the fat German businessmen had finally jaded the inhabitants to the point of despair. One English guy in our hotel shuffled into breakfast at 9.00am UK time and asked for beer, much to the disgust of everyone else in the room. His friend had got into a fight the night before and been beaten up by what we could overhear.

These idiots should be locked up for 48 hours before being kicked out of the country. Getting drunk in Poland is a must, of course, but there's no excuse for getting blotto and causing mayhem.

But before I get too doom and gloom, there were some smiles here and there; usually when I was trying to order something from the menu in Polish.

The pubs of Wroclaw were quite good, particularly the ones under the townhouse, although these were running at tourist prices. The bar Spiz did a very nice weiss beer and had some excellent stiens on sale.

Looking back on it know, I think we should have aimed for somewhere a little more vibrant and with more destinations to hand. I would have fancied Gdansk maybe. There's always next time I suppose, but I better get going soon, before the stag groups arrive in force.

Paris a slight return

2008-08-10T19:04:00.004+01:00

I went back to Paris this weekend. I was really looking forward to seeing Maria, but knew that a lot of my time would be spent getting annoyed at the Parisians. Really they are - excepting, perhaps, Attila the Hun's lot - the most rude people under heaven.

For example, at one point this weekend we were trying to find out details to get to the overland station for Versailles from a woman at Metro station payment desk. While we were asking, the phone went off. Rather than saying 'excuse me', she lifted her hand to Maria's face, as American women do on cheap chat shows. Essentially it was talk to the hand 'cause the face ain't listening!

We did eventually get to Versailles. The numbers were insane and the lines... it was like a rock festival!

Leaving the line, we bumbled around thinking there was a second entrance. We asked a man in a suit and with id where one was. There wasn't one he explained. For some reason he took pity on us and led us through the side entrance into the main ticket office, leaned over to the one ticket seller (yes that's right, the one!!!) and told her to print out tickets for us, which we duly paid for. We thanked him profusely, but he shrugged his shoulders and marched off.

Perhaps our luck was in, I thought. But the volume of people quickly dispelled this assumption. We had to stand in line for the toilets (of which there were far too few), stand in line to get the audio guide and, when we entered the palace proper, it was like standing in one long line going from room to room. Added to this, you had to try your best not to be pushed over by the mass of people following.

The rooms were spectacular if you like the Baroque. I find the style just too gaudy for my tastes. It is, however, light years ahead of anything we could construct today!

One point that I did find strange was the audioguide's failure to mention that the Versailles Peace Treaty of 1919 was signed in the Hall of Mirrors. I then realised that mentioning this vitally-important historical event was not important to the powers that be: the ones attempting to create the brotherhood of Europe. And very little was made of any battles between France and her neighbours. The audioguide spent far more time talking about the coronation painting of Napoleon than the militaristic ones.

Outside of the palace, we visited a small restaurant where I managed to relax a little and calm myself down after the tension of dealing with the crowds (which I hate). My eyes were also suffering from the glare of the sun reflecting up from the chalky-white footpaths. I don't know why, but I've always been sensitive to the glare of the light, but had quite good night vision.

But I digress, we then went to the house where Marie Antoinette (sp?) resided a good deal. It was an extremely tasteful affair and I preferred it above the main palace.

Going back to town, we stopped at an American diner, which was really good. Well, actually it was just okay, but the food was cooked (not still mooing) and it was hot, rather than the tepid temperature that most restaurants in France and many in England like to serve at...