The General Manager
Customer Service Centre
London Underground
55 Broadway
London SW1H 0BD
Dear Sir or Madam,
Monday 27th November
My intention in writing this letter is neither to angle for compensation nor to achieve refund, it is simply to register my disbelief with you.
For many months now I have been travelling to work using the same train combination – namely the Jubilee Line from Kilburn to Finchley Road and then the Metropolitan Line from Finchley Road to Great Portland Street. You are right, there is nothing to disbelieve about this – in fact I receive an excellent service between Tuesday and Friday, and even at the weekends. I can leave my house at 9a.m. and be at my office front door at 9.25 a.m.
When I moved to Kilburn I came from several years of Victoria Line misery: early and unadvertised terminating trains at Seven Sisters, having to wait up to twenty-five minutes for trains to Walthamstow late at night, impossible heat every day, spurious ‘regulating the service’ announcements, and signal failures with impeccable regularity. It was a joy to move to Kilburn onto a line that was fresh and without the Victoria Line’s foibles. I have noticed, however, now the buzz has worn off, a rather unusual phenomenon.
Every Monday morning, my day begins with a 9.30 meeting at my office. It may (or may not) surprise you that I have not managed to be at this meeting for about 2 months. With regularity, my Monday morning trip to fulfil my contracted obligations takes ten minutes longer than it should. As I say, having lived in Walthamstow for so long, I became numbed to such journey delays. It was only thinking about it this morning that I realised the ridiculousness of the situation – I left ten minutes earlier this morning, only to arrive 50 minutes after I set off. I gather that this was because ‘someone was reversing a train into the platform at Baker Street and all the trains are queuing’. Quite apart from the fact that I thought trains were ambimotive and this therefore should not be quite so unusual, I am distressed that my journey to work every Monday, and usually only Monday, is delayed by such an incredulous amount of time. Is there a reversing train at Baker Street timetabled into events at about 9.35 a.m. ?
You may by now have realised that my gripe with London Underground is that every day my journey runs fantastically, apart from Monday when it is ALWAYS delayed. I cannot for one moment begin to imagine what logical reason there is for this. Perhaps the person controlling the sub-suface lines at Baker Street on Monday mornings is the same person? Perhaps his/her unique way of controlling involves creating delays. Should there have been engineering works over this particular weekend, I might have been able to understand; to my knowledge there were no engineering works that would cause ‘trains to be in the wrong place’. Similarly, there were no delays on the Circle Line (and subsidiaries) according to your posters at Great Portland Street.
I’m not sure you are able to answer this expression of disbelief. We all have problems getting out of bed on a Monday, but this should not really affect a giant trainset – how does Monday differ from any other day? Tuesday for example? I can tell you that my journey tomorrow will be perfectly on time. I’m almost certain that the same would not be the case in a city such as Berlin. It is not infrastructure, it is simply unbelievable.
Thank you for reading this rant, if indeed you have got this far. I shall leave twenty minutes earlier – I will let you know with an apology if I manage to make my 9.30 a.m. meeting.
Yours in disbelief
Jonathan Lee
Monday, November 27, 2006
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
See the Swans' Mumbles
And finally after waiting a while and procrastinating and being me, I have got the photos of Kath and Rowan's wedding up on my Pickle space (with help from the excellent customer service at pickle.com I should add).
So here they are....
enjoy....
PHOTO TIME
JL
So here they are....
enjoy....
PHOTO TIME
JL
Friday, November 17, 2006
No, I'm quite happy with where I am thank you
I started writing this post sitting in a sunroom in Skye where I was on holiday with Henry, Gary and Ben (I wasn't necessarily on holiday in the sunroom, I just happened to be there at the time I was writing). It's occurred to me several times that I had a foetal muse on a bit of paper that was stuffed in the back of my diary, but it was spending an evening talking with Ben that reminded me to do something about it!
In July, I had some dental work done. It cost me £200 to have reconstruction inside my mouth. What was all the money about? I had some teeth shortened and I had a new tooth put in to cover a wonky tooth. The procedure was very impressive - it only took about 30 minutes, and I came out with a new smile that made me feel better. However, for days, even weeks afterwards, I convinced myself that I had made the wrong decision --* I could feel this new tooth in my mouth like a foreign brick. Gradually it got better, and eventually I couldn't notice the difference - my mouth feels like it has always been the way it is. Why is that? Is it because the neuro-senses are stubborn? Why does it take the nerves so long to adapt? They are not proud... they must just be stubborn.
Stubborn is:
1. unreasonably obstinate; obstinately unmoving: a stubborn child.
2. fixed or set in purpose or opinion; resolute: a stubborn opponent of foreign aid.
3. obstinately maintained, as a course of action: a stubborn resistance.
4. difficult to manage or suppress: a stubborn horse; a stubborn pain.
5. hard, tough, or stiff, as stone or wood; difficult to shape or work.
In August I spent a week in Scotland, on the Isle of Skye, with Hengar and Ben. It is the most beautiful place I have been to in recent memory. Why was it (and presumably still is) such a beautiful place? And why does it take so long to get used to it? Is it like new teeth? Is my mind as stubborn as my neurosystem? It takes so long to get used to because it is something new and free that lets the mind out to walk - that can inhibit the stubborness. Fixed or set in purpose.
All people are stubborn in the way they live their lives; we stubbornly hold onto thoughts, concepts, beliefs, opinions and our pride. Slowly realisation comes that things have changed in the mind, that the balance has tipped, and we silently and secretly (and probably sub-conciously at some levels) realign ourselves with new stubborn floors (and flaws) to stand on. We are as a being too proud to allow flexible thought and to be aware that others can be right or that there is no need to always have a strong opinion. Just look at politics and politics in your workplace, and see how long it can take to change standpoints. No, I'm not going to head for a discussion about the elusive myth of free thought.
It was interesting recently that a friend pointed out, when I told him some of the things I've done in the past year, that it was part of growing up and getting older. Patronising perhaps, but true. We had been talking about friendships and life things, and how the obstinate boundaries I had placed in my mind when I was younger, whilst other people had discovered flexibility, were now breaking down for me too. Things some people aligned to in their late teens and twenties, I was finding myself aligning to in my late 20s. But similarly flexibilities I discovered in my early 20s and thought I had learnt by, I find myself stubbornly repeating. Stubborn I tell you.
Of course - why are we stubborn? We need things to hold on to. That feeling you have when things are going wrong, of falling down a cliff grabbing at the sides trying to get a hold, is significant. By showing strength in our expressions to others, we hold on and we feel moored - and we refuse to move to other mental mooring pegs - we don't realise it is possible to move one rope at a time to another peg without flying off in the wind. It is a shame that people are so proud. If you notice it in yourself, you feel like a wally, if you notice it in others, you just accept it.
Interesting.
JL
* ps blogger.com -- why can I not do an en-rule on your software?
In July, I had some dental work done. It cost me £200 to have reconstruction inside my mouth. What was all the money about? I had some teeth shortened and I had a new tooth put in to cover a wonky tooth. The procedure was very impressive - it only took about 30 minutes, and I came out with a new smile that made me feel better. However, for days, even weeks afterwards, I convinced myself that I had made the wrong decision --* I could feel this new tooth in my mouth like a foreign brick. Gradually it got better, and eventually I couldn't notice the difference - my mouth feels like it has always been the way it is. Why is that? Is it because the neuro-senses are stubborn? Why does it take the nerves so long to adapt? They are not proud... they must just be stubborn.
Stubborn is:
1. unreasonably obstinate; obstinately unmoving: a stubborn child.
2. fixed or set in purpose or opinion; resolute: a stubborn opponent of foreign aid.
3. obstinately maintained, as a course of action: a stubborn resistance.
4. difficult to manage or suppress: a stubborn horse; a stubborn pain.
5. hard, tough, or stiff, as stone or wood; difficult to shape or work.
In August I spent a week in Scotland, on the Isle of Skye, with Hengar and Ben. It is the most beautiful place I have been to in recent memory. Why was it (and presumably still is) such a beautiful place? And why does it take so long to get used to it? Is it like new teeth? Is my mind as stubborn as my neurosystem? It takes so long to get used to because it is something new and free that lets the mind out to walk - that can inhibit the stubborness. Fixed or set in purpose.
All people are stubborn in the way they live their lives; we stubbornly hold onto thoughts, concepts, beliefs, opinions and our pride. Slowly realisation comes that things have changed in the mind, that the balance has tipped, and we silently and secretly (and probably sub-conciously at some levels) realign ourselves with new stubborn floors (and flaws) to stand on. We are as a being too proud to allow flexible thought and to be aware that others can be right or that there is no need to always have a strong opinion. Just look at politics and politics in your workplace, and see how long it can take to change standpoints. No, I'm not going to head for a discussion about the elusive myth of free thought.
It was interesting recently that a friend pointed out, when I told him some of the things I've done in the past year, that it was part of growing up and getting older. Patronising perhaps, but true. We had been talking about friendships and life things, and how the obstinate boundaries I had placed in my mind when I was younger, whilst other people had discovered flexibility, were now breaking down for me too. Things some people aligned to in their late teens and twenties, I was finding myself aligning to in my late 20s. But similarly flexibilities I discovered in my early 20s and thought I had learnt by, I find myself stubbornly repeating. Stubborn I tell you.
Of course - why are we stubborn? We need things to hold on to. That feeling you have when things are going wrong, of falling down a cliff grabbing at the sides trying to get a hold, is significant. By showing strength in our expressions to others, we hold on and we feel moored - and we refuse to move to other mental mooring pegs - we don't realise it is possible to move one rope at a time to another peg without flying off in the wind. It is a shame that people are so proud. If you notice it in yourself, you feel like a wally, if you notice it in others, you just accept it.
Interesting.
JL
* ps blogger.com -- why can I not do an en-rule on your software?
Would anyone...
actually notice if I disappeared? Apart from my parents, apart from G, apart from J, and apart from work?
I wonder.
It is worth testing it out.
Taken for granted? Possibly always. Needing escape from a normality appreciation. Yes.
Again, Jehova quam multi sunt hostes mei.
JL
I wonder.
It is worth testing it out.
Taken for granted? Possibly always. Needing escape from a normality appreciation. Yes.
Again, Jehova quam multi sunt hostes mei.
JL
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Just random
I found this photo whilst looking around in my alcohol-pickled brain for something to say. It was taken by Benjee in Skye. It sort of typifies my museful pose I think; what musing is all about. I hunger for views and peace like this for my thinking!!
When I got home from work today, I was delighted to have a letter from wonderful Rel! There is something wonderful about handwritten letters - I love receiving them. Alas, far too few people write these days. Anyhow I feel like I know everything going on in sunny Kenya - and I have the best of respect for what Rel is doing. The best thing about a letter is that you feel like you have been there - there is so much personality in a letter!
Well. This random post would not be complete without a rant!
1) Train screens:
a) Tube 'time-to-wait' screens-
Why is it that the screens on tube platforms showing you how long you need to wait before the next train, are always obscured by something else:
Why is it also that, particularly on the Circle line, the screens often don't show how many minutes until the next train, and then when people cross the yellow line to see down the tunnel, the attendants get all cross - SORT IT OUT LONDON UNDERGROUND!
b) At Euston station, why is it that on the screens telling you where each train is going , there is a slide shoved in warning you about common sense things like slippy platforms. This I wouldn't mind so much if it didn't spend twice as long on the screen as the information you actually want. Many a time at Euston, with 1 minute to go before the train I think I want to catch, have I had to be reminded about slippy platforms and smoking policies, when all I want to know is whether the train is going to my stop. SORT IT OUT SILVERLINK!
2)Those bloody free newspapers:
Dear Puggers (paper muggers), if I decide that I want one of your trashy, free. London evening papers, and that I want to read bad grammar and bad journalism and turn my hands black, I will not walk towards you quickly shaking my head. The next person who tries to stab my midriff with this allusion to journalism, might be subject to coarse language. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.
3) Season ticket renewers:
Why oh why oh why do you renew a season ticket at peak rush hour when the queue behind you will clearly build up very quickly. What selfish, unrepentant urge allows you to hold up a ticket clerk for 5 minutes whilst you ask about all your options, and then to turn-around and look totally unphased by all the commuters choking blood and with contorted faces?? Why?
AND TO THE RAILWAY COMPANIES - Why on earth can't you sort it out and have your so-called 'quick' ticket machines dispense boundary extensions? What possible reason is there that you won't? SORT IT OUT
Phew! I feel better now!
Some photos to end:
Benjee on the train doing his best to be lawless...
I couldn't believe, having sat down in the BL to do some quiet editing, that I'd sat at desk 146. That number is going to return all my life - I can see that now!
.jpg)
What is a 'Private Rod', and why does Embankment station have a room for it?
JL
Saturday, November 04, 2006
La di dee, one two three
Goodness. What a marathon two weeks. Maurice Durufle was an amazing man, but he certainly knew how to tie up someone's life for a while. I have finally learnt and performed the accompaniment to his Requiem; as I have said before, quite possibly one of my favourite pieces of music. I performed it on Thursday evening with the Chiltern Chamber Choir in Berkhamsted, in my church which was full of incense and candlelight, and for the first time in my tenure, an All Souls Catafalque The symbolism was excellent, and as for the cope worn by the priest.... I can't understand peoples' fear and hatred of the beautiful symbolic rites of the church.
Anyhow. That eulogy was to explain my silence again: I have been working almost non-stop on the Durufle, which has had it's own effect on my still ailing health - I'm not well again, but my mind is fertile from the music and the enjoyment of the social life I've managed to continue with my friends. There is much musing to return when I get a chance to construct it. In the meantime, a few random 'imagebites' from my phone. A snapshot of muse over the past 2 weeks.
Anyhow. That eulogy was to explain my silence again: I have been working almost non-stop on the Durufle, which has had it's own effect on my still ailing health - I'm not well again, but my mind is fertile from the music and the enjoyment of the social life I've managed to continue with my friends. There is much musing to return when I get a chance to construct it. In the meantime, a few random 'imagebites' from my phone. A snapshot of muse over the past 2 weeks.
I spotted the name of the manufacturers of my work lifts....
Henry muses on his red wine in Lee's Bag.
.jpg)
Mary, Claire and Rupert's foot were amongst the people who came to support the Durufle. Here they are repenting of silverlink..
I thought this was a perfect description....
.jpg)
Gavin drunk in charge of a bicycle on the way to the Edge from Lee's Bag (is there something metaphorical there?)
JL
Monday, October 23, 2006
Seize one Swan sea
Well. I had dinner with James yesterday whilst I was in Cambridge celebrating being part of an Organ Scholar canon. He reminded me, having softened me with a fabulous meal, that my last blog entry and the consequent silence, implied I had died of malaria.
Unfortunately for you, I'm not even a ghost writer; I'm sitting here with a glass of whisky and ginger wine (facist sore throat), quite happily typing in a non-poltergeisty-destructive way. I bet you are pleased about that!
Anyhow. I wanted to just add a few photos from my little excursion, last weekend but one, to Swansea for Kath's wedding. The actual ACTUAL photos I took will occur later, but right now, I just have tasters of the things that amused me!
Outside Swansea train station one finds the slogan, 'Ambition is Critical'. I found this quite ironic...
Thankfully for us, this cafe was not open when we passed. I hate to think what they were selling...
Right next to the Cafe was this road. Odd. I'm sure there's parity somewhere...
JL
Unfortunately for you, I'm not even a ghost writer; I'm sitting here with a glass of whisky and ginger wine (facist sore throat), quite happily typing in a non-poltergeisty-destructive way. I bet you are pleased about that!
Anyhow. I wanted to just add a few photos from my little excursion, last weekend but one, to Swansea for Kath's wedding. The actual ACTUAL photos I took will occur later, but right now, I just have tasters of the things that amused me!
Outside Swansea train station one finds the slogan, 'Ambition is Critical'. I found this quite ironic...
Thankfully for us, this cafe was not open when we passed. I hate to think what they were selling...
Right next to the Cafe was this road. Odd. I'm sure there's parity somewhere...
JL
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
Malaria?
Having spent the majority of the last month feeling quite ill, and having got the shivers yesterday, I finally went for tests this morning to see whether I've been bitten by a parasitic mosquito. Hopefully not. We wait to find out. I hate being ill and even worse being at home when there is so much to do elsewhere, and my new toy hasn't arrived yet, so I can't even spend time enjoying myself at home.
JL
JL
Monday, October 09, 2006
Having a toy camera
Most of the time I would be happy not to have a camera on my phone: it is amongst the other 'essential' gadgets that also slow my phones to the speed of a snail just one year after it starts being used. Rubbish.
BUT, just occasionally, I see something just truly stunning that I need a picture of. The church of which I'm organist is 12th Century, it's large, beautiful, historic, and just a wonderful building to work in. With an autumn night sky and an almost full moon, it is even more special. It is the old man of the town, and I may have been imagining it, but he seemed to be really enjoying the basking in that moonlight; for a moment I felt that joy too.
Having a toy camera on my phone really helped me to capture it:
BUT, just occasionally, I see something just truly stunning that I need a picture of. The church of which I'm organist is 12th Century, it's large, beautiful, historic, and just a wonderful building to work in. With an autumn night sky and an almost full moon, it is even more special. It is the old man of the town, and I may have been imagining it, but he seemed to be really enjoying the basking in that moonlight; for a moment I felt that joy too.
Having a toy camera on my phone really helped me to capture it:
JL
Thursday, October 05, 2006
Seated one day on the sofa, I was weary and ill at ease...
and my fingers wandered idly, over the plastic keys...
Well not quite, but I am ill and at home, and so I though I would do some gallery work.
Here are photos I've been meaning to put up for ages:
When going for a drink with Henry and Gary in Retro, do remember to take your dictionary...
I think a prize for the person who manages to finish this slogan without using the word organic. It made me laugh when I took it, but can't think why!
Well not quite, but I am ill and at home, and so I though I would do some gallery work.
Here are photos I've been meaning to put up for ages:
When going for a drink with Henry and Gary in Retro, do remember to take your dictionary...
I think a prize for the person who manages to finish this slogan without using the word organic. It made me laugh when I took it, but can't think why!If ever a road was built for me to live on, here it is.
JL
Proof of the Kenya
Finally I have managed to reduce 500 photos to 100 in order to upload them to a site. I may decide to post more in the coming months, but there will probably be more excitement by then :)
Here they are
Enjoy!
JL
Here they are
Enjoy!
JL
Friday, September 29, 2006
Shock
Well it's not every day that you get told that if you touch even a drop of alcohol in the next 2 weeks, you'll end up in hospital...
It's going to be a very boring two weeks, that's all I can say!
JL
It's going to be a very boring two weeks, that's all I can say!
JL
Thursday, September 28, 2006
Isn't it funny how....
things can really knock you for six.
One of my friends went missing last night - he was supposed to be staying with us all weekend, but he never arrived. He was still missing at midnight when I went to bed - his phone was off, and not replying to messages. His plane had arrived at the airport, and yet he still hadn't arrived or contacted. Today, his phone was still off, text messages were not being delivered to it, and he was not replying to e-mails. I was sickly worried.
He's fine - he'd had his bag stolen at the airport he was coming from; the bag contained his passport, phone and wallet. He managed to e-mail me this evening to say he was ok, and to thank me for worrying about him. I was obviously very relieved as I was thinking of phoning the police if I hadn't heard by tomorrow. It also reminded me how important friends are, how I mustn't take them for granted, and how nice it is to feel appreciated and not taken for granted yourself.
These reminders are always timely - I feel one of the major reminders is slightly lateral to this - it has reminded me that I'm important too, and I must never forget myself: something I've been prone to doing recently. Having been at home alot lately because of a lack of money and unidentified stomach pains, I feel lucky to have had time to think about these things that happen in my much-quoted Rhythm of Life.
In further odd and unusual occurence, I was doing my shopping in Finchley Road earlier, and I saw an excellent bossa nova band playing in the O2 Centre. They were a fairly middle-aged combo and playing on a small stage. Unfortunately their cheap-sounding PA system, coupled with bad balancing, and shopping-centre acoustic did not do them justice. Although their music was slightly generic, they had, in my opinion, flashes of inspiration in their jazz fusion. It reminded me how I still hunger to get into the recording industry at some point in my life - that discovery of unsigned creativity is a very exciting thing. I've felt it before, and I'm sure I'll see it again. It makes life exciting having possibility in the future! In the same way, earlier today, more television work was mooted as a possibility for me by the production team. So that is good too.
Now sitting at home, as described above, I have time to reflect upon my revived friendship philosophies, my continued music industry ambition and excitement, and unexpected avenues of work.
A busy emotiono-mental day ...
Thank Friday it's tomorrow ;P
JL
I have spent most of my evenings at home with stomach pains for about a week: I'm never
One of my friends went missing last night - he was supposed to be staying with us all weekend, but he never arrived. He was still missing at midnight when I went to bed - his phone was off, and not replying to messages. His plane had arrived at the airport, and yet he still hadn't arrived or contacted. Today, his phone was still off, text messages were not being delivered to it, and he was not replying to e-mails. I was sickly worried.
He's fine - he'd had his bag stolen at the airport he was coming from; the bag contained his passport, phone and wallet. He managed to e-mail me this evening to say he was ok, and to thank me for worrying about him. I was obviously very relieved as I was thinking of phoning the police if I hadn't heard by tomorrow. It also reminded me how important friends are, how I mustn't take them for granted, and how nice it is to feel appreciated and not taken for granted yourself.
These reminders are always timely - I feel one of the major reminders is slightly lateral to this - it has reminded me that I'm important too, and I must never forget myself: something I've been prone to doing recently. Having been at home alot lately because of a lack of money and unidentified stomach pains, I feel lucky to have had time to think about these things that happen in my much-quoted Rhythm of Life.
In further odd and unusual occurence, I was doing my shopping in Finchley Road earlier, and I saw an excellent bossa nova band playing in the O2 Centre. They were a fairly middle-aged combo and playing on a small stage. Unfortunately their cheap-sounding PA system, coupled with bad balancing, and shopping-centre acoustic did not do them justice. Although their music was slightly generic, they had, in my opinion, flashes of inspiration in their jazz fusion. It reminded me how I still hunger to get into the recording industry at some point in my life - that discovery of unsigned creativity is a very exciting thing. I've felt it before, and I'm sure I'll see it again. It makes life exciting having possibility in the future! In the same way, earlier today, more television work was mooted as a possibility for me by the production team. So that is good too.
Now sitting at home, as described above, I have time to reflect upon my revived friendship philosophies, my continued music industry ambition and excitement, and unexpected avenues of work.
A busy emotiono-mental day ...
Thank Friday it's tomorrow ;P
JL
I have spent most of my evenings at home with stomach pains for about a week: I'm never
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
17th September - Mombasa muse II
My position as I write Holidays are childish things - you spend all of your time and money making them the best you can, then they run away from you like a dream lottery ticket. It seems only yesterday that I arrived here with Claire to visit Rel in Kenya, but tomorrow is my last day... see what I mean?
A catalogue of, to me, exciting things to report - I've swum with dolphins in the wild, swum over several coral reefs (and my legs have been eaten by the sun for doing so), been stung by a tropical jelly fish and so far lived to tell the tale (and no, I didn't wee on it - I'm English), had giraffes feeding from my hand, held a python, seen a baby hippo that has formed a relationship with a 130-year-old giant tortoise (I kid you not), realised by text message how most of my friends and surprising other people watch CBBC on a sunday morning (with me on it), and been on countless 'chav safaris' from the comfort of my own hotel.
It has also been fabulous catching up with Rel and learning all about her month or so in Nairobi, as well us enjoying her entirely uncompromising humour, generosity, friendship, and fabulousness once more! One of very few people I've ever met like this.
Holidays may be childish, but they are amazing; they can and have made me feel like a child. I have been on two amazing holidays lately, and both have freed my mind in a brilliant way. They have reminded me that I need to find time to relax within my relatively hectic day-to-day life. These recent ones have also taught me the value of doing different things with different people. I was inspired in Scotland by the scenery and by Hengar and Ben, by their different skills, by their diversity from me, their creative gifts, their beauty as people, and the way some tension I felt at the time allowed my mind to see clearly in its relaxed state. In Nairobi I have been inspired by Rel in her work and in her courage, by Claire in her success at becoming a solicitor and remaining a thoroughly super person. Obviously the two diverse places are inspiring in their own right.
Perhaps the life I lead and the places I lead it are inspiring to others - I'm never happy with things I do and places I go as a matter of course - but just maybe, like the emotional vampire I have talked of before, I am feeding off other peoples' lives in awe, for my own inspiration? It teaches me that I need to find a creative diversity through my life to relax, feel happy, and feel inspired.
Of couse hills are always greener on the other side - an overused contemporary proverb. But in my life, when I'm thinking clearly, half the fun is getting to the top of the hill to see that, just so you can go back the way you came, and have an ice-cream and a pint at the bar, and talk with what you love and what you know.
JL
A catalogue of, to me, exciting things to report - I've swum with dolphins in the wild, swum over several coral reefs (and my legs have been eaten by the sun for doing so), been stung by a tropical jelly fish and so far lived to tell the tale (and no, I didn't wee on it - I'm English), had giraffes feeding from my hand, held a python, seen a baby hippo that has formed a relationship with a 130-year-old giant tortoise (I kid you not), realised by text message how most of my friends and surprising other people watch CBBC on a sunday morning (with me on it), and been on countless 'chav safaris' from the comfort of my own hotel.
It has also been fabulous catching up with Rel and learning all about her month or so in Nairobi, as well us enjoying her entirely uncompromising humour, generosity, friendship, and fabulousness once more! One of very few people I've ever met like this.
Holidays may be childish, but they are amazing; they can and have made me feel like a child. I have been on two amazing holidays lately, and both have freed my mind in a brilliant way. They have reminded me that I need to find time to relax within my relatively hectic day-to-day life. These recent ones have also taught me the value of doing different things with different people. I was inspired in Scotland by the scenery and by Hengar and Ben, by their different skills, by their diversity from me, their creative gifts, their beauty as people, and the way some tension I felt at the time allowed my mind to see clearly in its relaxed state. In Nairobi I have been inspired by Rel in her work and in her courage, by Claire in her success at becoming a solicitor and remaining a thoroughly super person. Obviously the two diverse places are inspiring in their own right.
Perhaps the life I lead and the places I lead it are inspiring to others - I'm never happy with things I do and places I go as a matter of course - but just maybe, like the emotional vampire I have talked of before, I am feeding off other peoples' lives in awe, for my own inspiration? It teaches me that I need to find a creative diversity through my life to relax, feel happy, and feel inspired.
Of couse hills are always greener on the other side - an overused contemporary proverb. But in my life, when I'm thinking clearly, half the fun is getting to the top of the hill to see that, just so you can go back the way you came, and have an ice-cream and a pint at the bar, and talk with what you love and what you know.
JL
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
15th September. Muse by the Indian Ocean
Like listening to an Andrew Lloyd Webber musical or a piece by John Rutter or even a song by Steps, it is odd how you find yourself enjoying them or parts of them, but secretly. I'm sitting on a sunbed that Rel reserved for me earlier this morning; the sunbed is under a palm tree. It is a truly lovely view - the sunbed is on a sun terrace overlooking the richly turquoise, boat-punctuated waters of the Indian Ocean. I am happy to admit that there is little secret about me enjoying this. I am however staying in a hotel that has challenged my deep-rooted prejudices of our British social constructs. Of course, all societies have their constructs: here, according to Rel, the interaction of individual tribes is still full of tension and prejudice - a construct, conveniently forgetting our own society, that we might find silly.
Spending time is this perfectly appointed hotel has given me cause to think a bit about my own thoughts, and the way my brain constructs society. The hotel is a temporary home for a range of people: from almost-twenty-first-time-holiday-together couples, to late 30s to mid 50s groups of organized 'sun holiday' types, to elderly couples and their friends. Most of these people seem to spend their holiday getting up as early as they can to reserve sunbeds with towels, having a large 'English' breakfast, starting on the beer (or vodka and sprite as I heard one lady ordering) by 10 a.m., a three-course lunch, maybe some pool volleyball with more sun and alcohol, followed by a three-course dinner, and then the faux-tribal entertainment and English-style disco provided by the hotel. I did catch myself wondering why these people had travelled so far for something they could get a lot cheaper and a lot closer to home in Tenereife... Oh yes, look he's shown his colours now - watch that society prejudice in action - watch it fell the trees of acceptability like a magic sword...
But there is an affinity; I am enjoying myself too. The view is fabulous and I enjoy being with Claire and Rel. Rel and Claire are sitting here too; Rel is reading War and Peace, and Claire is reading about the Devil and Prada (quite similar subject matters if you ask me). Presumably the people who are practising being English in a distant foreign country, the ones whom my socially constructed prejudice is looking down upon, are enjoying the views and enjoying being with others too. We're not so very different after all, except that just like with world religions, the smallest differences are the ones that create the biggest gaps. They (because the only collective noun I could think of was a 'trailer of Chavs') are no doubt more than slightly amused to see this not-quite-slim, bleached-white Englishman, who sounds a bit posh, doesn't join in with the organized games or the (faux)tribal dancing, is on holiday sharing a room with two girls (the source of many quizzical looks), and is sitting wearing shorts and a t-shirt on a sunbed in the shade whilst nursing his sunburn. It does sound ridiculous doesn't it? When I think about it, there is probably much more for them to giggle at - especially now as I'm surrounded by slim, attractive, brown, and defined bodies. But maybe it's ok - maybe they won't notice me - I'm sitting in my not-really-invisible, orange t-shirt, and desperately trying to keep hold of piles of papers that are preparing me for an editing course next week... But no matter how slight differences may be, I shall still be amused later whilst sitting by the sea with a glass of port, to hear the entertainment presenter come on to the stage a way behind me and say hello in Swahili: 'Jambo' (o as in box). This will be followed by a lilac scream of ladies replying 'Jairmboowww'.
Prejudice, what prejudice?
I'm off for a swim.
JL
Spending time is this perfectly appointed hotel has given me cause to think a bit about my own thoughts, and the way my brain constructs society. The hotel is a temporary home for a range of people: from almost-twenty-first-time-holiday-together couples, to late 30s to mid 50s groups of organized 'sun holiday' types, to elderly couples and their friends. Most of these people seem to spend their holiday getting up as early as they can to reserve sunbeds with towels, having a large 'English' breakfast, starting on the beer (or vodka and sprite as I heard one lady ordering) by 10 a.m., a three-course lunch, maybe some pool volleyball with more sun and alcohol, followed by a three-course dinner, and then the faux-tribal entertainment and English-style disco provided by the hotel. I did catch myself wondering why these people had travelled so far for something they could get a lot cheaper and a lot closer to home in Tenereife... Oh yes, look he's shown his colours now - watch that society prejudice in action - watch it fell the trees of acceptability like a magic sword...
But there is an affinity; I am enjoying myself too. The view is fabulous and I enjoy being with Claire and Rel. Rel and Claire are sitting here too; Rel is reading War and Peace, and Claire is reading about the Devil and Prada (quite similar subject matters if you ask me). Presumably the people who are practising being English in a distant foreign country, the ones whom my socially constructed prejudice is looking down upon, are enjoying the views and enjoying being with others too. We're not so very different after all, except that just like with world religions, the smallest differences are the ones that create the biggest gaps. They (because the only collective noun I could think of was a 'trailer of Chavs') are no doubt more than slightly amused to see this not-quite-slim, bleached-white Englishman, who sounds a bit posh, doesn't join in with the organized games or the (faux)tribal dancing, is on holiday sharing a room with two girls (the source of many quizzical looks), and is sitting wearing shorts and a t-shirt on a sunbed in the shade whilst nursing his sunburn. It does sound ridiculous doesn't it? When I think about it, there is probably much more for them to giggle at - especially now as I'm surrounded by slim, attractive, brown, and defined bodies. But maybe it's ok - maybe they won't notice me - I'm sitting in my not-really-invisible, orange t-shirt, and desperately trying to keep hold of piles of papers that are preparing me for an editing course next week... But no matter how slight differences may be, I shall still be amused later whilst sitting by the sea with a glass of port, to hear the entertainment presenter come on to the stage a way behind me and say hello in Swahili: 'Jambo' (o as in box). This will be followed by a lilac scream of ladies replying 'Jairmboowww'.
Prejudice, what prejudice?
I'm off for a swim.
JL
Saturday, September 23, 2006
Long-distance Jon
Where in the world has Jon been?
create your own visited country map
or check our Venice travel guide
Looking for people to make the rest of the world red with.... any offers? Asia and South America are the next targets.
create your own visited country map
or check our Venice travel guide
Looking for people to make the rest of the world red with.... any offers? Asia and South America are the next targets.
Monday, September 11, 2006
List of (dis)association
On my way to Mombassa. What shall I take?
8 Pairs of Pants (stretching the limit of ones I own and want to wear)
8 Pairs of Socks
1 T-shirt to sleep in
3 Pairs of shorts (chords, white linen, blue)
1 Pair of swimming trunks (to be bought in selfridges at lunch time)
1 Pair of linen trousers (mosquito protection after dusk)
2 long sleeve t-shirts (mosquito protection after dusk)
2 shirts for the evenings
5 t-shirts for day wear
2 jumpers (one to wear on plane)
1 pair of jeans
1 pair of sandals
I-pod charger
Phone Charger
Camera Charger
Camera
Spare memory card
Camera to ipod transfer device
i pod
phone
Passport
Sunglasses
Marmite
2 Bottles of Gin for Rel
Stationery for Rel
1 Bottle of port for us
Jungle Formula
Sun cream
Toiletries
Situational sundries
Manuscript Paper
Note book
Editing to do for a course next week
Durufle requiem.
Flight Socks
Spare Book
Scrabble travel.
Headphones
Is it time to go yet? Pleeeeease
JL
8 Pairs of Pants (stretching the limit of ones I own and want to wear)
8 Pairs of Socks
1 T-shirt to sleep in
3 Pairs of shorts (chords, white linen, blue)
1 Pair of swimming trunks (to be bought in selfridges at lunch time)
1 Pair of linen trousers (mosquito protection after dusk)
2 long sleeve t-shirts (mosquito protection after dusk)
2 shirts for the evenings
5 t-shirts for day wear
2 jumpers (one to wear on plane)
1 pair of jeans
1 pair of sandals
I-pod charger
Phone Charger
Camera Charger
Camera
Spare memory card
Camera to ipod transfer device
i pod
phone
Passport
Sunglasses
Marmite
2 Bottles of Gin for Rel
Stationery for Rel
1 Bottle of port for us
Jungle Formula
Sun cream
Toiletries
Situational sundries
Manuscript Paper
Note book
Editing to do for a course next week
Durufle requiem.
Flight Socks
Spare Book
Scrabble travel.
Headphones
Is it time to go yet? Pleeeeease
JL
Sunday, September 10, 2006
Judgement Day
Tonight I played the harpsichord, albeit breifly, in the memorial concert for a violinist who was a principle in the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, and amongst many other things, the leader of the The Bridgewater Band with whom I play. It was a fabulously attended concert - there must have been almost 350 people there. My engagement was simply to play in Pachelbel's Canon - which I did with as much aplomb as is possible with that piece.
Pachelbel's Canon started me wondering about how I judge music. It is a very well known piece of music - everyone, or mostly everyone with in the social construct that is middle class, would recognise it. Musicians tend to look at it suspiciously like it has just walked in off the street with no clothes on. Why do I judge pieces of music other people write as either good or bad? Surely it's this conditioning thing again, and thus how the music reacts with my brain.
There was judgement going on tonight, but in lots of different ways. The music of Pachelbel's Canon didn't excite me like the music that I usually play with that orchestra - there is usually raw passion and excitement going on around me. Obviously I was happy playing, but I didn't walk away with that feeling of fulfilment. The orchestra tonight was augmented by a significant number of RPO players, who were there because of passion. Passion not necessarily for the music, but passion for their late friend. I hope when I go, that half as many people turn up to enjoy their passion and have a good time together. To the extra people there tonight, that violinist, that person, that friend meant a lot to them. They had judged him too - and from what I picked up, they judged him very highly.
It is a shame that we have to go through our lives judging ourselves as failing, when ultimately the test, at least of some success, is the way people hold you. I look at myself and wonder what I'm doing wrong, why I don't feel successful and happy, and I move on to the next thing that will try to gain a feeling of fulfilment. I look at others doing their jobs, and I wonder how they can be so happy when what they do is apparently futile. Of course I have the highest respect for them, but I am seeing lots of people doing unnecessary things in order to improve their judgement of themselves. The people tonight were doing something they wanted to, and at the end had judged the brilliance of their friend for him with a triumphant roar of Mozart and Beethoven.
In awe of the concert whilst walking back along Euston Road, I returned back to my usual judgemental self - a woman passed and I thought she looked like a comedy secret agent dressed up to look old, and then I passed people sitting outsite a pub at Baker St pretending to be in continental cafe culture but instead breathing horrid fumes.
We are funny beings. Everything has to be good or bad, and we always need to better ourselves, but sometimes, we really do miss wood for trees.
Rambling Jon
night night
JL
Pachelbel's Canon started me wondering about how I judge music. It is a very well known piece of music - everyone, or mostly everyone with in the social construct that is middle class, would recognise it. Musicians tend to look at it suspiciously like it has just walked in off the street with no clothes on. Why do I judge pieces of music other people write as either good or bad? Surely it's this conditioning thing again, and thus how the music reacts with my brain.
There was judgement going on tonight, but in lots of different ways. The music of Pachelbel's Canon didn't excite me like the music that I usually play with that orchestra - there is usually raw passion and excitement going on around me. Obviously I was happy playing, but I didn't walk away with that feeling of fulfilment. The orchestra tonight was augmented by a significant number of RPO players, who were there because of passion. Passion not necessarily for the music, but passion for their late friend. I hope when I go, that half as many people turn up to enjoy their passion and have a good time together. To the extra people there tonight, that violinist, that person, that friend meant a lot to them. They had judged him too - and from what I picked up, they judged him very highly.
It is a shame that we have to go through our lives judging ourselves as failing, when ultimately the test, at least of some success, is the way people hold you. I look at myself and wonder what I'm doing wrong, why I don't feel successful and happy, and I move on to the next thing that will try to gain a feeling of fulfilment. I look at others doing their jobs, and I wonder how they can be so happy when what they do is apparently futile. Of course I have the highest respect for them, but I am seeing lots of people doing unnecessary things in order to improve their judgement of themselves. The people tonight were doing something they wanted to, and at the end had judged the brilliance of their friend for him with a triumphant roar of Mozart and Beethoven.
In awe of the concert whilst walking back along Euston Road, I returned back to my usual judgemental self - a woman passed and I thought she looked like a comedy secret agent dressed up to look old, and then I passed people sitting outsite a pub at Baker St pretending to be in continental cafe culture but instead breathing horrid fumes.
We are funny beings. Everything has to be good or bad, and we always need to better ourselves, but sometimes, we really do miss wood for trees.
Rambling Jon
night night
JL
Saturday, September 09, 2006
Purple Grass
It was going to be a surreal day on thursday; from the very earliest indications, there was to be nothing real about it. The day started and I was walking through Richmond. A lovely place is Richmond - if it wasn't for the 747s that fly at grabbing distance from the quaint High Street, you might think you were in rural Buckinghamshire. Whilst trying to ponder whether planes were beautiful and a miracle of human engineering or simply noisy and uncomfortable environment wreckers, I spotted 'The Springfield Pharmacy'. What could be more surreal? I expected to find myself morphing into the familiar yellow cartoon form. Unfortunately for you, I did take a photo of the said pharmacy, but I have lost the cable that would transfer it to my computer.
The surreality continued. I arrived home to change for work, and I was approached by an old white haired man with the thinnest frame you can imagine. He was also shorter than me - it is possible! He recounted the story about a lady dressed in white who had fixed his lock, stolen two bottles of red wine, taken the money for another one, had not returned with the wine, and had in addition stolen his phone. At this point he showed me several T mobile leaflets. I assumed that the man was either senile or delusional, maybe both. He told me he was going to the police station to report it - I found myself wondering at the scene in the police station, and exactly how often he went there to find company. Slightly surreal.
My afternoon was spent sight-reading various John McCabe/Giles Swayne-type pieces to find out how they sounded. I maintain that I still don't really know how they sounded.
After work, I went for a drink with Gary in Bar Acquda. Not so surreal until they charged us £3 for two pints of beer. Bar Acquda has just jumped up my list of favourite places to buy a drink - I can't remember the last time I bought a pint in London and cost £3 - let alone 2 pints of beer. Goodness me.
On my way home, I did some quite unusual things. I went to selfridges and browsed the swimming trunks. Obviously for a reason - I'm going to Kenya on Monday, and the hotel I'm staying in has a very fun looking pool complex. My current swimming trunks are chlorine faded. No swimming trunks, but I purchased a new front bike light for £25 - I almost told them to go and visit Bar Acquda to learn about good pricing.
Then I cycled home in the dark for the first time. Finchley road was full of people parked in the bus lanes and seemingly waiting for something - probably to pull out in front of cyclists and knock them over. I shouted some very non-polite things on that journey home.
Was my day surreal? It felt it was, but I'm not sure it was anything apart from unexpected reality - nothing had been planned to happen. I felt afterwards that I wanted it to be surreal. Reality and Surreality are much-quoted concepts - I think about them much. In some ways travelling away on holiday is a surreality but a surreality within a reality. Can it be surreal if you knew it was coming? We all need surreality to aspire towards in our realities, otherwise the thought that a day might be just normal would send us on a gradual decline to coma. Yes, yes, I know that the surreal is against reality, and that it may seem stupid to try and point out that one exists inside the other, but I think that the dreamlike qualities of the concept exist quite happily inside the monotony of a container. I'm sure that the universe, God's surreal place, exists quite happily in a galactic tupperware container of some sort.
My surreality is a feeling to. I once wrote a song with a friend called 'I feel surreal'. I hope that I feel surreal tomorrow too. I rather like things happening that I don't expect - like someone giving me money, friends doing spontaneous things without me feeling I'm making all the effort, a promotion, a free dinner, someone I don't know smiling at me. When was the last time you made someone you know (or someone you don't know) feel surreal? There is nothing better than making someone's reality more enjoyable: there are too many tensions and stresses in life - do it - make yourself giggle as well.
I'm off to purple.
Grass
The surreality continued. I arrived home to change for work, and I was approached by an old white haired man with the thinnest frame you can imagine. He was also shorter than me - it is possible! He recounted the story about a lady dressed in white who had fixed his lock, stolen two bottles of red wine, taken the money for another one, had not returned with the wine, and had in addition stolen his phone. At this point he showed me several T mobile leaflets. I assumed that the man was either senile or delusional, maybe both. He told me he was going to the police station to report it - I found myself wondering at the scene in the police station, and exactly how often he went there to find company. Slightly surreal.
My afternoon was spent sight-reading various John McCabe/Giles Swayne-type pieces to find out how they sounded. I maintain that I still don't really know how they sounded.
After work, I went for a drink with Gary in Bar Acquda. Not so surreal until they charged us £3 for two pints of beer. Bar Acquda has just jumped up my list of favourite places to buy a drink - I can't remember the last time I bought a pint in London and cost £3 - let alone 2 pints of beer. Goodness me.
On my way home, I did some quite unusual things. I went to selfridges and browsed the swimming trunks. Obviously for a reason - I'm going to Kenya on Monday, and the hotel I'm staying in has a very fun looking pool complex. My current swimming trunks are chlorine faded. No swimming trunks, but I purchased a new front bike light for £25 - I almost told them to go and visit Bar Acquda to learn about good pricing.
Then I cycled home in the dark for the first time. Finchley road was full of people parked in the bus lanes and seemingly waiting for something - probably to pull out in front of cyclists and knock them over. I shouted some very non-polite things on that journey home.
Was my day surreal? It felt it was, but I'm not sure it was anything apart from unexpected reality - nothing had been planned to happen. I felt afterwards that I wanted it to be surreal. Reality and Surreality are much-quoted concepts - I think about them much. In some ways travelling away on holiday is a surreality but a surreality within a reality. Can it be surreal if you knew it was coming? We all need surreality to aspire towards in our realities, otherwise the thought that a day might be just normal would send us on a gradual decline to coma. Yes, yes, I know that the surreal is against reality, and that it may seem stupid to try and point out that one exists inside the other, but I think that the dreamlike qualities of the concept exist quite happily inside the monotony of a container. I'm sure that the universe, God's surreal place, exists quite happily in a galactic tupperware container of some sort.
My surreality is a feeling to. I once wrote a song with a friend called 'I feel surreal'. I hope that I feel surreal tomorrow too. I rather like things happening that I don't expect - like someone giving me money, friends doing spontaneous things without me feeling I'm making all the effort, a promotion, a free dinner, someone I don't know smiling at me. When was the last time you made someone you know (or someone you don't know) feel surreal? There is nothing better than making someone's reality more enjoyable: there are too many tensions and stresses in life - do it - make yourself giggle as well.
I'm off to purple.
Grass
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
Blue bears
Well life is about picking up experiences and today was a new one. I was being filmed by CBBC teaching a glove puppet called Nev to play the piano. It is for a program called Smile which is on Sunday mornings.
A fascinating insight into the world of childrens' television, it will be even more fascinating to watch the fully edited clip. Although it won't be my first BBC appearance, it will be my first speaking appearance. I suppose it is appropriate for me in my madness to be seen talking to and hugging a mischevious blue bear.
Funnily enough, having spent a week on holiday with my friends who are confirmed Star Trek fans, and lovers (in the admirer sense) of Patrick Stewart, the puppeteer looked almost exactly like Jean-Luc -it was uncanny. Now what is life trying to tell me there?
You watch - tomorrow I'll be a TV presenter. That would be an unusual career change!
JL
A fascinating insight into the world of childrens' television, it will be even more fascinating to watch the fully edited clip. Although it won't be my first BBC appearance, it will be my first speaking appearance. I suppose it is appropriate for me in my madness to be seen talking to and hugging a mischevious blue bear.
Funnily enough, having spent a week on holiday with my friends who are confirmed Star Trek fans, and lovers (in the admirer sense) of Patrick Stewart, the puppeteer looked almost exactly like Jean-Luc -it was uncanny. Now what is life trying to tell me there?
You watch - tomorrow I'll be a TV presenter. That would be an unusual career change!
JL
Sunday, September 03, 2006
The Skye's the limit
I can't remember a holiday like it. Today, I spent the morning in bed writing and looking at photos, this afternoon I visited my parents and showed them my photos, and this evening I have been looking at my photos and the photos on Ben's website.
A triumph of holidays. I can't get over how happy and relaxed I feel. If you would like to share in the joy, you can visit these places below
Jon's Skye Photos
Ben's superior photos gallery 1
I wish I took photos like this gallery 2
JL
A triumph of holidays. I can't get over how happy and relaxed I feel. If you would like to share in the joy, you can visit these places below
Jon's Skye Photos
Ben's superior photos gallery 1
I wish I took photos like this gallery 2
JL
Skye sky II
Here is a second set of photos - does anyone know why I'm having difficulty uploading photos to blogger.com? They randomly go on or not at all, and then if they don't. the only way is to start a new post.
Don't forget the croutons:
Somewhere over the rainbow:
Candlelit dinner Mrs Bucket:
Over the sea from Skye:
Jonny and Benjay relaxed and happy in sepia:
Cloudplay:
Over the sea from Skye:
Sunset on our beach:
Don't forget the croutons:
Somewhere over the rainbow:
Candlelit dinner Mrs Bucket:
Over the sea from Skye:
Jonny and Benjay relaxed and happy in sepia:
Cloudplay:
Over the sea from Skye:
Sunset on our beach:
Skye sky
Hengar, Benjay and Jon try-out self-timer function on the rocks:
Muso Muse:
The gritted-teeth 'will you stop taking photos' photo:
The sun playing in the water:
The sun's vanity - looking in the mirror:
The sun on fire with pride at this beautiful place:
Jon, Hen and Benjay try the self-timer with hilarious results..
What's that coming over the mountain? :
Hengar, Benjay and Jon using the waitress function on the camera:
Muso Muse:
The gritted-teeth 'will you stop taking photos' photo:
The sun playing in the water:
The sun's vanity - looking in the mirror:
The sun on fire with pride at this beautiful place:
Jon, Hen and Benjay try the self-timer with hilarious results..
What's that coming over the mountain? :
Hengar, Benjay and Jon using the waitress function on the camera:
The Acuity of Balderdash
I like holidays. In fact, ever since I can remember, holidays have always excited me. It is quite bizarre for me to get excited by them as usually I get excited by things that are not planned in any way (or shape or form). About spending time with three friends in Skye however, I was undoubtedly excited.
On the face of it, picking someone up, giving them at least one (usually) stressful day of travelling, putting them in a place they don't know with a language they maybe don't speak, placing them with people they would not usually live with, and telling them to get on with it is surely a recipe for disaster? It sounds like the ingredients for a stress and panicked week have all been carefully measured by Miss Delia 'don't whatever you do be creative' Smith.
I can see the old 1980s TV advertisements for Lunn Poly now that tell me to 'get away' and infer my relaxation; personally I can't think of anything less relaxing than some of the places they wanted to send people, but nevertheless, these adverts inferred relaxing. So in my British middle class way, I arrived in Scotland, ignored my Easyjet Easydelay™ (I think I feel a post coming up about airlines), laughed off the hundreds of pounds taken off my credit card for a hire car, told myself that the country was beautiful and that a 6 hour drive was worth it, and proceeded to be relaxed. But was it really relaxation?
When I was younger and more naive about emotion and state, I used to believe in a cycle of happiness. In fact, to an extent, I still do, it is just more clouded by the cynicism that comes with living and working in London. I used to tell people in a styled quasi-wise manner that if they pretended to smile and be happy, then it would affect the people around them, who would either pretend to be happy too or genuinely respond happily, and then your eventual neuro-response would be to smile and actually become happy yourself. This theory is one I try not to think too much about any more, because putting it into practice can make me seem a bit odd!
Yes, of course my cynicism about relaxation and happiness is unfounded. Travel and money aside, I felt awe at the beautiful scenery my eyes were feasting on, and actually during the holiday I felt pure relaxation and girlishly-jumping happiness on a number of occasions. There were a number of occasions too that I felt I ought to be happy and relaxed when in fact I wasn't: it is those moments which the cycle comes into play the most.
The problem is with my brain, it can never, at a particular moment, accept the existence of these pure states of happiness and relaxation, and it does strange things. Actually this move from usual life to holiday, with all the indications of Miss Smith's Stress Mousse, turns out of the oven lacking the stress factor. There is something wonderful about seeing new things and experiencing them with people you love and adore and being able to hoard their reactions and their joint reactions. But because Dynamics of holidays are often more complex and unstable than normal 'what-we-know' life itself, we become susceptible to things that are usually stable in our home environment. I don't think I have known a holiday without tensions.
In Skye, it was an interesting situation - there was not anywhere to escape to as we were often inside with howling wind and rain, there was no phone reception so we couldn't go and phone people in a 'you can't believe what he/she just did' sort of way, and our relationships became very organic. It was interesting that when I felt tension or when I felt left out or that everyone suddenly didn't like me, that there also seemed to be tension generally, when I felt happiness there seemed to be happiness generally. However, I did experience some personal lows that were horrid - an opposite of the highs that were wonderful. It is interesting that the brain feels a need to go through these emotional scenarios whilst one is feeling 'relaxed'.
Of course, it is very much that in a busy life where I am constantly identifying my own actions and how they have affected others, it is very difficult to switch off from the need to think, and to just relax. Or can we 'relax' at this moment...
It has made me wonder about relaxation as a state. Yes I was excited before holiday and excited during the holiday, but not after the holiday; travelling back yesterday, I was in a bad mood - I felt that everyone was ignoring me when I asked things, that everyone was talking to one another but not to me - the excitement had worn off. During the holiday I was relaxed, but felt tensions. Sitting in bed now writing this entry, I feel relaxed - very relaxed - totally relaxed. My mind has forgotten its silly scenario wanderings during the week, yesterday's bad mood has evaporated into my more realistic 'stop reading into the natural peaks and troughs of interractions with others' state, and my mind is truly relaxed remembering a week of fun, new scenery, beautiful sights, beautiful friends, companionship, laughter, good food, good wine, and actual joy. If someone gave me what I perceive to be pure relaxation for an entire week I don't think I would accept it.
So, relaxation is a state post-event for me. Why was I excited? I was excited because I hunger for the things that will make me relaxed once the event has passed. The experiences will remain with me as a feeling of relaxation in my life for a good time yet - the love and friendship I feel for my friends will be enhanced by the emotional scenarios and become stronger. In any stress likely to come in the next long while, I will be able to feel relaxed and warm by recalling those images of holiday.
Excitement is hunger. Yes I hunger for experience the whole time. Excitement is lust. That is why I get excited. I lust for new experience - I hate normal.
Relaxation for me is much more about the aftermath. I hear you ask about the relaxation I mention whilst running about girlishly. I lied. It happened in different peaks, but the girlish bit happened only once on the holiday. Like a VU meter reading the peak on a sound mixer, that was my 'clip' - the point at which any further signal would need condensing - it has registered the height of the relaxation by which I shall remember the holiday.
Thank you guys for a wonderful holiday. I'm excited. Can we go again? Would it be better? Would it be the same? You see, I'm excited now for the new experience.
JL
On the face of it, picking someone up, giving them at least one (usually) stressful day of travelling, putting them in a place they don't know with a language they maybe don't speak, placing them with people they would not usually live with, and telling them to get on with it is surely a recipe for disaster? It sounds like the ingredients for a stress and panicked week have all been carefully measured by Miss Delia 'don't whatever you do be creative' Smith.
I can see the old 1980s TV advertisements for Lunn Poly now that tell me to 'get away' and infer my relaxation; personally I can't think of anything less relaxing than some of the places they wanted to send people, but nevertheless, these adverts inferred relaxing. So in my British middle class way, I arrived in Scotland, ignored my Easyjet Easydelay™ (I think I feel a post coming up about airlines), laughed off the hundreds of pounds taken off my credit card for a hire car, told myself that the country was beautiful and that a 6 hour drive was worth it, and proceeded to be relaxed. But was it really relaxation?
When I was younger and more naive about emotion and state, I used to believe in a cycle of happiness. In fact, to an extent, I still do, it is just more clouded by the cynicism that comes with living and working in London. I used to tell people in a styled quasi-wise manner that if they pretended to smile and be happy, then it would affect the people around them, who would either pretend to be happy too or genuinely respond happily, and then your eventual neuro-response would be to smile and actually become happy yourself. This theory is one I try not to think too much about any more, because putting it into practice can make me seem a bit odd!
Yes, of course my cynicism about relaxation and happiness is unfounded. Travel and money aside, I felt awe at the beautiful scenery my eyes were feasting on, and actually during the holiday I felt pure relaxation and girlishly-jumping happiness on a number of occasions. There were a number of occasions too that I felt I ought to be happy and relaxed when in fact I wasn't: it is those moments which the cycle comes into play the most.
The problem is with my brain, it can never, at a particular moment, accept the existence of these pure states of happiness and relaxation, and it does strange things. Actually this move from usual life to holiday, with all the indications of Miss Smith's Stress Mousse, turns out of the oven lacking the stress factor. There is something wonderful about seeing new things and experiencing them with people you love and adore and being able to hoard their reactions and their joint reactions. But because Dynamics of holidays are often more complex and unstable than normal 'what-we-know' life itself, we become susceptible to things that are usually stable in our home environment. I don't think I have known a holiday without tensions.
In Skye, it was an interesting situation - there was not anywhere to escape to as we were often inside with howling wind and rain, there was no phone reception so we couldn't go and phone people in a 'you can't believe what he/she just did' sort of way, and our relationships became very organic. It was interesting that when I felt tension or when I felt left out or that everyone suddenly didn't like me, that there also seemed to be tension generally, when I felt happiness there seemed to be happiness generally. However, I did experience some personal lows that were horrid - an opposite of the highs that were wonderful. It is interesting that the brain feels a need to go through these emotional scenarios whilst one is feeling 'relaxed'.
Of course, it is very much that in a busy life where I am constantly identifying my own actions and how they have affected others, it is very difficult to switch off from the need to think, and to just relax. Or can we 'relax' at this moment...
It has made me wonder about relaxation as a state. Yes I was excited before holiday and excited during the holiday, but not after the holiday; travelling back yesterday, I was in a bad mood - I felt that everyone was ignoring me when I asked things, that everyone was talking to one another but not to me - the excitement had worn off. During the holiday I was relaxed, but felt tensions. Sitting in bed now writing this entry, I feel relaxed - very relaxed - totally relaxed. My mind has forgotten its silly scenario wanderings during the week, yesterday's bad mood has evaporated into my more realistic 'stop reading into the natural peaks and troughs of interractions with others' state, and my mind is truly relaxed remembering a week of fun, new scenery, beautiful sights, beautiful friends, companionship, laughter, good food, good wine, and actual joy. If someone gave me what I perceive to be pure relaxation for an entire week I don't think I would accept it.
So, relaxation is a state post-event for me. Why was I excited? I was excited because I hunger for the things that will make me relaxed once the event has passed. The experiences will remain with me as a feeling of relaxation in my life for a good time yet - the love and friendship I feel for my friends will be enhanced by the emotional scenarios and become stronger. In any stress likely to come in the next long while, I will be able to feel relaxed and warm by recalling those images of holiday.
Excitement is hunger. Yes I hunger for experience the whole time. Excitement is lust. That is why I get excited. I lust for new experience - I hate normal.
Relaxation for me is much more about the aftermath. I hear you ask about the relaxation I mention whilst running about girlishly. I lied. It happened in different peaks, but the girlish bit happened only once on the holiday. Like a VU meter reading the peak on a sound mixer, that was my 'clip' - the point at which any further signal would need condensing - it has registered the height of the relaxation by which I shall remember the holiday.
Thank you guys for a wonderful holiday. I'm excited. Can we go again? Would it be better? Would it be the same? You see, I'm excited now for the new experience.
JL
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
God on the Tube
It is funny how I cannot think any more. The creative ideas do not flow so easily. I'm rarely annoyed and frustrated with as many people as when I started this blog/ gallery, so it is possible that there is a correlation.
The strands in life continue to tie together. This evening, I spent the most wonderful time with Claire and Rupert in Whitechapel. Superb food, wine, enjoying intellectual equality. Most importantly, I spoke to my week-gone soulmate. Rachel is now in Kenya, and I realised today how terribly I miss her. Of course, I shall see her in 4 weeks, but it served to remind me how perfectly the distractions in my life have tallied with her going.
On that note, sitting on the tube from Whitechapel to Baker Street, I sat watching a train full of the usual 11pm microcosm. There were friends after a night out chatting excitedly, there were children asleep in their mothers' arms after having been tired out, there were East End Wideboys wearing shirts unbuttoned to their midriff and sharing crude stories over a tinnie, there were couples who were in the midst of foreplay, and there were couples who were intellectually unmatched - one clearly trying to work out whether there was anything to do to improve the situation. In the midst of it all I spotted a man. In that man I spotted God. The man was a mix between David Tennant and Robert Redford - pinstripe but craggy and worn - that is not the important part. He was standing, serenely watching people in the carriage - each person in turn - enjoying all they were doing and saying; occasionally he smiled, looked up, smiled again, and looked somewhere else. A creator enjoying his creation - thinking of amusing changes, just thriving on the beauty of what other people are enjoying.
It struck me, that for all the parts of others I hate and there are many things that I would class as despicable characteristics, there is so much beauty in individuality of reaction and being. That man, who was God, just for a moment showed it all. His enjoyment of everthing going on reminded me that I don't need to be creative all the time - creativity has to be enjoyed to understand it more. I will be upset with people soon enough and will write well thought out essays on humanity as a result. At this moment, I realise that my creativity is individual, but it is nothing without the experience of others - just like Mr God on the train noticed at the same time!
Now. Don't get me started on the Tube rant.....
The strands in life continue to tie together. This evening, I spent the most wonderful time with Claire and Rupert in Whitechapel. Superb food, wine, enjoying intellectual equality. Most importantly, I spoke to my week-gone soulmate. Rachel is now in Kenya, and I realised today how terribly I miss her. Of course, I shall see her in 4 weeks, but it served to remind me how perfectly the distractions in my life have tallied with her going.
On that note, sitting on the tube from Whitechapel to Baker Street, I sat watching a train full of the usual 11pm microcosm. There were friends after a night out chatting excitedly, there were children asleep in their mothers' arms after having been tired out, there were East End Wideboys wearing shirts unbuttoned to their midriff and sharing crude stories over a tinnie, there were couples who were in the midst of foreplay, and there were couples who were intellectually unmatched - one clearly trying to work out whether there was anything to do to improve the situation. In the midst of it all I spotted a man. In that man I spotted God. The man was a mix between David Tennant and Robert Redford - pinstripe but craggy and worn - that is not the important part. He was standing, serenely watching people in the carriage - each person in turn - enjoying all they were doing and saying; occasionally he smiled, looked up, smiled again, and looked somewhere else. A creator enjoying his creation - thinking of amusing changes, just thriving on the beauty of what other people are enjoying.
It struck me, that for all the parts of others I hate and there are many things that I would class as despicable characteristics, there is so much beauty in individuality of reaction and being. That man, who was God, just for a moment showed it all. His enjoyment of everthing going on reminded me that I don't need to be creative all the time - creativity has to be enjoyed to understand it more. I will be upset with people soon enough and will write well thought out essays on humanity as a result. At this moment, I realise that my creativity is individual, but it is nothing without the experience of others - just like Mr God on the train noticed at the same time!
Now. Don't get me started on the Tube rant.....
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
Isn't it funny how...
Bees like honey?
I like life at the moment. In a more secluded moment of creative genius I spotted some similarities between life and the game 'Connect Four'. Isn't it odd how occasionally you feel that bits of life begin to fall into place? It is just like Connect Four when your opponent seems to be failing his go desperately - grasping at threads to stop you getting a line. Of course, it is more complicated than that: I remember, as we all do, as a child discovering that if you held a mirror to a mirror, that the mirrors would appear to reflect themselves into infinity - it is the same with the games of Connect Four - infinite.
Of course, it is the past while where the game seems to have destroyed my opponents (one might say personal gremlins, since opponents in people are merely challenges), but there are lots more existing; my dimension at the moment is in a winning phase. I feel I have moved to an area of London that is great, to a beautiful, light and spacious flat, and I feel it happened a bit by accident. I have met some fascinating new people - some particularly. I have been out for a drink today with a very good friend, who for various reasons things did not work out with for a year or so, but now I remember how addictive his friendship is. AND I have just discovered the evenings in West Hampstead.
Isn't it funny how Bees like Honey? (TM A.A Milne!!)
Isn't it funny how Children like Chocolate?
Isn't it funny how Adults like Alcohol.
Tonight I went for a drink with LJ in West Hampstead. We met up spontaneously at about 9 p.m. and went to a bar just opposite the Opera Studio. It reminded me, down to the tables and clientele, of a down-to-earth bar in a little Czecholslovakian town - there was little attitude and just a good relaxed evening being had by all. Following this, the image continued - all the way up West End Road, little lanterns flickered in civilised bars like candles in caves of experience. I was informed of the good places to go for breakfast, the good places to go for dinner, and all of them looked fabulous and civilised for a drink. AND all of them looked 100% less pretentious than the rest of London bars - willing me in - vive la culture cafe. All of my new found bars are closer to home than the best bar in Walthamstow which, although very good, is not where I live now!
I'm looking forward to the next month. And I've suddenly realised how many people I know who live in this area.
Bring it on!
JL
I like life at the moment. In a more secluded moment of creative genius I spotted some similarities between life and the game 'Connect Four'. Isn't it odd how occasionally you feel that bits of life begin to fall into place? It is just like Connect Four when your opponent seems to be failing his go desperately - grasping at threads to stop you getting a line. Of course, it is more complicated than that: I remember, as we all do, as a child discovering that if you held a mirror to a mirror, that the mirrors would appear to reflect themselves into infinity - it is the same with the games of Connect Four - infinite.
Of course, it is the past while where the game seems to have destroyed my opponents (one might say personal gremlins, since opponents in people are merely challenges), but there are lots more existing; my dimension at the moment is in a winning phase. I feel I have moved to an area of London that is great, to a beautiful, light and spacious flat, and I feel it happened a bit by accident. I have met some fascinating new people - some particularly. I have been out for a drink today with a very good friend, who for various reasons things did not work out with for a year or so, but now I remember how addictive his friendship is. AND I have just discovered the evenings in West Hampstead.
Isn't it funny how Bees like Honey? (TM A.A Milne!!)
Isn't it funny how Children like Chocolate?
Isn't it funny how Adults like Alcohol.
Tonight I went for a drink with LJ in West Hampstead. We met up spontaneously at about 9 p.m. and went to a bar just opposite the Opera Studio. It reminded me, down to the tables and clientele, of a down-to-earth bar in a little Czecholslovakian town - there was little attitude and just a good relaxed evening being had by all. Following this, the image continued - all the way up West End Road, little lanterns flickered in civilised bars like candles in caves of experience. I was informed of the good places to go for breakfast, the good places to go for dinner, and all of them looked fabulous and civilised for a drink. AND all of them looked 100% less pretentious than the rest of London bars - willing me in - vive la culture cafe. All of my new found bars are closer to home than the best bar in Walthamstow which, although very good, is not where I live now!
I'm looking forward to the next month. And I've suddenly realised how many people I know who live in this area.
Bring it on!
JL
Monday, July 31, 2006
Chapter 146
A month without post. No apologies, just a myriad of feeling and thought.
I left Walthamstow today for the very last time of living there. Walking down Church Hill towards Asda and the station, the wind was blowing gustily. A wind of change, a cliche, but yes a wind of change.
My purpose in Walthamstow was to go and tidy my old house further, but in the end, Gavin had done most of the work the previous evening and into the morning. The house looked dull and empty and lifeless and souless - set in its own rigor mortis, not betraying any of the fun and joy, or anger and frustration, or love and passion that its volume has hosted and leant soul to. When we first saw the house in 2002, it lulled us in; the walls promised cubic metres of liveliness, a house full of people and friendship. And that is what it has been. Although we all leave frayed around the edges, and with better nature distorted in places, the core of the time remains, and there are no regrets in moving - it was right to do and will manifest itself in new life and chapters in new places. The house? 146? The famous 146 parties? The meals? The people? That has died. Our house has died. It will regenerate itself for someone else just as it has done many times before - someone else will enjoy that feeling of promise, but that is what houses do.
Sitting here in my new flat in NW London, I am crammed in with my belongings strewn messily about like a messier person than me would strew. There is promise here too, but in a different way. This is an adult flat with big bay windows, a proper dining table, high ceilings and the feeling of being grown up. From my bed here now, I hear the trees outside in the garden talking to one another - blowing around the change and showing the beginnings of new life. Once I get a key to the garden, I will have to go and explore. Oh yes! A game! An adventure! I still have childish needs, and they link with the need to find laughter and happy people with surprises and mental acrobatics.
So bring on the wine, the port, the candles, the laughter, and the Miles Davis, and enter Chapter 147........
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
Dear Sir, Imagine my surprise
First Scotrail Customer Relations
PO Box 7030
Fort William
PH33 6WX
19th June 2006
Dear Sir/Madam,
Caledonian Sleeper Bargain Berths – Friday 25th August – London to Fort William.
It is not without a certain amount of disappointment and annoyance that I find myself writing this letter to you. First Scotrail has, due to misinformation, disorganization and bad customer practice, put the holiday plans of my friends and I into chaos.
Earlier this year, it was decided that we would take a holiday in Skye during August, and we therefore booked a cottage. I persuaded my friends that it would be a fabulous idea to take the Caledonian sleeper based on my very enjoyable previous experience. It was decided that this would be a good transport decision.
Since the booking of the holiday cottage in March, I have phoned regularly to discover when tickets for Friday 25th August will be available for booking – anxious not to miss the availability. During these conversations, I discovered that Bargain Berths would be controlled separately and that it was possible that the availability would not be released at the same time as APEX and standard tickets.
Again, anxious not to miss the opening of availability, I checked the website every day to see when tickets would be released. On the day that normal tickets were released up to 25th August (about 2 weeks ago), I phoned up your telesales team. They said that the cheapest tickets available were APEX singles at £70. It appeared that I could not book return tickets until the following week when the availability was to be extended – I would run the risk of not being able to get an outgoing ticket by waiting. Naturally I asked the agent about the Bargain Berths. He said that as he only dealt with normal tickets, I would need to contact Bargain Berths directly and he gave me a number. Directly, I phoned this number, asked the following questions, and received the following answers:
Q – Can you tell me when the Bargain Berths will be available for Friday 25th August between London and Fort William?
A – No. It depends on when they are released by the company – but probably in the next three to four weeks when the next quarter is released.
Q – Can you tell me whether there will be Bargain Berths on the Caledonian Sleeper on Friday 25th August?
A – Yes there will be – there is a quota of Bargain Berths on all services
Q – Are you able to tell me whether there is a specific quota or whether bargain berths are just using up tickets that haven’t been sold another way? I don’t want to wait for Bargain Berths to be released to discover that they don’t exist and the other tickets have sold out.
A – No there will certainly be bargain berths and there is a quota put aside.
Following this conversation, I decided not to risk waiting for the return journey to be released, and booked a return flight for myself and my friends from Inverness. However, still very keen to use the Caledonian Sleeper, and in good faith to your employees, I have continued to wait for the Bargain Berths to be released. Even the richest person would see an opportunity for an economy extending from the difference in ticket prices; it would not be good enough to say that I should have booked the £70 tickets at the time considering the information that I was given.
Today when checking your website, I noticed that Bargain Berths had not yet been released, and so decided to phone once more to check my previous information. It took me half an hour and 6 different phone numbers to finally get through to someone who seemed to know something about the Bargain Berths (including 15 minutes trying to track down someone called Maria on a ‘direct’ number which went through to the automated service). It seems the information I had acted upon in good faith was wrong. First Scotrail will not confirm in advance whether or not there will be any Bargain Berths on the service concerned as that puts me at an ‘advantage’.
I feel humiliated for having falsely led three other people into thinking that the Caledonian Sleeper is a very good service, and that we would be able to get Bargain Berths (on a first come and first served basis). Naturally, I’m also upset and annoyed as well as finding myself at a loss on what to do next. Apparently there will be an extension to the Bargain Berth availability in the next few days: of course it is possible that there will be some available, but given lack of information due to company rules, and my now mistrust of your agents, I cannot see my holiday working this way. My other option is to book four £129 tickets normally (the APEX fares having sold out). Firstly I cannot afford £129, and secondly I feel, given that I have been misled by First Scotrail, that I have been placed at a severe disadvantage and incurred a penalty of increasing ticket prices. Should I wait to see whether there will be Bargain Berths, it is certain that the £129 tickets will be sold out. My particular reasoning for phoning to check the availability of Bargain Berths on a Bank Holiday weekend was because I thought it would be a time when the company may not offer them.
I feel that the very least First Scotrail can do is to offer me £129 tickets at the APEX fare since it was your misinformation that persuaded me to wait for Bargain Berths in the first place and now they may not even exist.
I look forward to hearing from you, regarding this dismal situation and bad organization. One of your agents is posting me a copy of your customer charter.
Yours faithfully,
Jonathan Lee
cc. First Scotrail Chief Executive
BBC Watchdog
The Office of Rail Regulation.
Scotrail Customer Services by e-mail
PO Box 7030
Fort William
PH33 6WX
19th June 2006
Dear Sir/Madam,
Caledonian Sleeper Bargain Berths – Friday 25th August – London to Fort William.
It is not without a certain amount of disappointment and annoyance that I find myself writing this letter to you. First Scotrail has, due to misinformation, disorganization and bad customer practice, put the holiday plans of my friends and I into chaos.
Earlier this year, it was decided that we would take a holiday in Skye during August, and we therefore booked a cottage. I persuaded my friends that it would be a fabulous idea to take the Caledonian sleeper based on my very enjoyable previous experience. It was decided that this would be a good transport decision.
Since the booking of the holiday cottage in March, I have phoned regularly to discover when tickets for Friday 25th August will be available for booking – anxious not to miss the availability. During these conversations, I discovered that Bargain Berths would be controlled separately and that it was possible that the availability would not be released at the same time as APEX and standard tickets.
Again, anxious not to miss the opening of availability, I checked the website every day to see when tickets would be released. On the day that normal tickets were released up to 25th August (about 2 weeks ago), I phoned up your telesales team. They said that the cheapest tickets available were APEX singles at £70. It appeared that I could not book return tickets until the following week when the availability was to be extended – I would run the risk of not being able to get an outgoing ticket by waiting. Naturally I asked the agent about the Bargain Berths. He said that as he only dealt with normal tickets, I would need to contact Bargain Berths directly and he gave me a number. Directly, I phoned this number, asked the following questions, and received the following answers:
Q – Can you tell me when the Bargain Berths will be available for Friday 25th August between London and Fort William?
A – No. It depends on when they are released by the company – but probably in the next three to four weeks when the next quarter is released.
Q – Can you tell me whether there will be Bargain Berths on the Caledonian Sleeper on Friday 25th August?
A – Yes there will be – there is a quota of Bargain Berths on all services
Q – Are you able to tell me whether there is a specific quota or whether bargain berths are just using up tickets that haven’t been sold another way? I don’t want to wait for Bargain Berths to be released to discover that they don’t exist and the other tickets have sold out.
A – No there will certainly be bargain berths and there is a quota put aside.
Following this conversation, I decided not to risk waiting for the return journey to be released, and booked a return flight for myself and my friends from Inverness. However, still very keen to use the Caledonian Sleeper, and in good faith to your employees, I have continued to wait for the Bargain Berths to be released. Even the richest person would see an opportunity for an economy extending from the difference in ticket prices; it would not be good enough to say that I should have booked the £70 tickets at the time considering the information that I was given.
Today when checking your website, I noticed that Bargain Berths had not yet been released, and so decided to phone once more to check my previous information. It took me half an hour and 6 different phone numbers to finally get through to someone who seemed to know something about the Bargain Berths (including 15 minutes trying to track down someone called Maria on a ‘direct’ number which went through to the automated service). It seems the information I had acted upon in good faith was wrong. First Scotrail will not confirm in advance whether or not there will be any Bargain Berths on the service concerned as that puts me at an ‘advantage’.
I feel humiliated for having falsely led three other people into thinking that the Caledonian Sleeper is a very good service, and that we would be able to get Bargain Berths (on a first come and first served basis). Naturally, I’m also upset and annoyed as well as finding myself at a loss on what to do next. Apparently there will be an extension to the Bargain Berth availability in the next few days: of course it is possible that there will be some available, but given lack of information due to company rules, and my now mistrust of your agents, I cannot see my holiday working this way. My other option is to book four £129 tickets normally (the APEX fares having sold out). Firstly I cannot afford £129, and secondly I feel, given that I have been misled by First Scotrail, that I have been placed at a severe disadvantage and incurred a penalty of increasing ticket prices. Should I wait to see whether there will be Bargain Berths, it is certain that the £129 tickets will be sold out. My particular reasoning for phoning to check the availability of Bargain Berths on a Bank Holiday weekend was because I thought it would be a time when the company may not offer them.
I feel that the very least First Scotrail can do is to offer me £129 tickets at the APEX fare since it was your misinformation that persuaded me to wait for Bargain Berths in the first place and now they may not even exist.
I look forward to hearing from you, regarding this dismal situation and bad organization. One of your agents is posting me a copy of your customer charter.
Yours faithfully,
Jonathan Lee
cc. First Scotrail Chief Executive
BBC Watchdog
The Office of Rail Regulation.
Scotrail Customer Services by e-mail
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
Random thoughts for early summer
Goodness - what a marathon week or so! I find myself at home and able to relax with myself for the first time in ages. Whilst busy, I've observed the following amusingly ludicrous things, and also observed my hatred for certain ridulous others:
1. Random meetings
I have revisited old thoughts on bumping into people randomly. A couple of weeks ago I was walking along Oxford St and I bumped into two people from Hertfordshire who I had accompanied the night before at St. Alban's Abbey. This wouldn't be so unusual except that they had just bumped into one another randomly as well. A total coincidence, although it makes you wonder why! Yesterday when walking to have a drink with Lou, Rob, Kath and Chrissy in Piccadilly, I noticed a shop with interest: I was drawn to it. I found myself thinking 'that is going to be useful soon. I'll remember this'. Odd.
2. Being undercharged
Of course in the scheme of things I'm overcharged more than I'm undercharged for purchases. There is a great childish glee at going to a restaurant and trying to get out of the door without giggling too much when they have forgotten to add the wine on to the bill. In the week before last, I was undercharged twice in as many days for food and a smoothie. Both incidents were at separate places. It just stuck me as odd. Jung would have said something about coincidence in time.
3. Totally wrong
A heavily pregnant lady sitting on the tube reading a Jilly Cooper novel. It made me laugh, but it was still totally wrong. I won't write what I was thinking!
4. Getting older
Twice in the past month or so I have gone right up to someone in a bar and looked inanely at them whilst smiling. I was sure that it was someone I knew, but it has turned out not to be. How embarrassing is that? My eyesight has certainly got worse. The second time it happened, I was meeting my friend Nic at the Yard in Rupert Street. When I arrived, I thought I saw him at the bar chatting to someone else. After my chesire cat routine, and then realising that I was wrong, everyone must have thought I was on an internet date. People kept looking and smiling once I met Nic!
5.Senility and madness
I spotted an old woman reading a book at Oxford Circus Tube. Shocking. She was also having difficulty walking down a staircase with her walking stick, and it was in rush hour. I almost pointed out that things might be easier for everyone if she stopped reading the book... I didn't notice whether it was Jilly Cooper or not: that really would be wrong.
6.Night busses
I have tried to use a night bus twice in the past three weeks. Both times the driver of the N73 has driven right past me and ignored a helpless man in his late twenties out-to-play later than he should be. Both times I have ended up getting a taxi because my need for my bed has overcome my stubborness. You see that is the only positive side of it all; I'm not impressed with London Transport.
7.First Scotrail
Dear Sir,
Imagine my surprise...... First Scotrail has annoyed me once too often and I have written a three-page 'Imagine my surprise' letter to them. It will be posted tomorrow morning. You watch the response. I may even post it here tomorrow......
love
Distraught in Walthamstow....
1. Random meetings
I have revisited old thoughts on bumping into people randomly. A couple of weeks ago I was walking along Oxford St and I bumped into two people from Hertfordshire who I had accompanied the night before at St. Alban's Abbey. This wouldn't be so unusual except that they had just bumped into one another randomly as well. A total coincidence, although it makes you wonder why! Yesterday when walking to have a drink with Lou, Rob, Kath and Chrissy in Piccadilly, I noticed a shop with interest: I was drawn to it. I found myself thinking 'that is going to be useful soon. I'll remember this'. Odd.
2. Being undercharged
Of course in the scheme of things I'm overcharged more than I'm undercharged for purchases. There is a great childish glee at going to a restaurant and trying to get out of the door without giggling too much when they have forgotten to add the wine on to the bill. In the week before last, I was undercharged twice in as many days for food and a smoothie. Both incidents were at separate places. It just stuck me as odd. Jung would have said something about coincidence in time.
3. Totally wrong
A heavily pregnant lady sitting on the tube reading a Jilly Cooper novel. It made me laugh, but it was still totally wrong. I won't write what I was thinking!
4. Getting older
Twice in the past month or so I have gone right up to someone in a bar and looked inanely at them whilst smiling. I was sure that it was someone I knew, but it has turned out not to be. How embarrassing is that? My eyesight has certainly got worse. The second time it happened, I was meeting my friend Nic at the Yard in Rupert Street. When I arrived, I thought I saw him at the bar chatting to someone else. After my chesire cat routine, and then realising that I was wrong, everyone must have thought I was on an internet date. People kept looking and smiling once I met Nic!
5.Senility and madness
I spotted an old woman reading a book at Oxford Circus Tube. Shocking. She was also having difficulty walking down a staircase with her walking stick, and it was in rush hour. I almost pointed out that things might be easier for everyone if she stopped reading the book... I didn't notice whether it was Jilly Cooper or not: that really would be wrong.
6.Night busses
I have tried to use a night bus twice in the past three weeks. Both times the driver of the N73 has driven right past me and ignored a helpless man in his late twenties out-to-play later than he should be. Both times I have ended up getting a taxi because my need for my bed has overcome my stubborness. You see that is the only positive side of it all; I'm not impressed with London Transport.
7.First Scotrail
Dear Sir,
Imagine my surprise...... First Scotrail has annoyed me once too often and I have written a three-page 'Imagine my surprise' letter to them. It will be posted tomorrow morning. You watch the response. I may even post it here tomorrow......
love
Distraught in Walthamstow....
Thursday, June 01, 2006
Study the amazing properties of sine waves
Jehova quam multi sunt hostes mei!
Quam multi insurgunt contra me.
Quam multi dicunt de anima mea,
Non est ulla salus isti in Deo plane.
At tu, Jehova, clypeus es circa me;
Gloria mea, et extollens caput meam.
Voce mea ad Jehovam clamanti
Respondit mihi e monte sanctitatae suae maximae.
Ego cubui et dormivi; ego expergefeci me;
Quia Jehova sustentat me.
Non timebo a myriadibus populi,
Quas circum disposuerint metatores contra me.
Surge, surge Jehova; fac salvum me Deus mi;
Qui percussisti omnes inimicos meos maxilliam
Dentes improborum confregisti.
Jehova est salus: super populum tuum,
Sit benedictio tua maxime.
JL
Quam multi insurgunt contra me.
Quam multi dicunt de anima mea,
Non est ulla salus isti in Deo plane.
At tu, Jehova, clypeus es circa me;
Gloria mea, et extollens caput meam.
Voce mea ad Jehovam clamanti
Respondit mihi e monte sanctitatae suae maximae.
Ego cubui et dormivi; ego expergefeci me;
Quia Jehova sustentat me.
Non timebo a myriadibus populi,
Quas circum disposuerint metatores contra me.
Surge, surge Jehova; fac salvum me Deus mi;
Qui percussisti omnes inimicos meos maxilliam
Dentes improborum confregisti.
Jehova est salus: super populum tuum,
Sit benedictio tua maxime.
JL
Monday, May 29, 2006
Patience
On my way to St. Alban's Abbey today, I found myself at Euston station with a ticket in my hand and ten minutes before my train. Sensibly I thought this would be an ideal moment to get some lunch and so I went to Marks & Spencer. Predictably, being a bank holiday, the station was full of people, and so was M&S. During the week when I visit Euston, there are about 10 cashiers on duty; clearly a bank holiday only needs three. In addition, all the people with lower salaries come out of the woodwork on bank holidays meaning that there is a higher proportion of people paying at the tills with coins counted to exact addition. By the time I reached the front of the queue, I was very agitated and dropped my belongings and soon-to-be purchases on the ground. I looked up to see my cashier had the name badge 'Patience'. Needless to say, the irony of this tickled me. My journey was successful, but only after I just (and impatiently) managed to discover my train at an unmarked platform number 17.
Patience has been on my mind lately, and as ever with concepts like that, you notice so much relevant in the world around you once you are thinking about it.
One of my friends has been in hospital for a week after, randomly and for no obvious reason, rupturing the arteries in his head. I also went to see a friend give a recital at the beginning of his professional career as a singer. The two incidents together have made me think of mortality and fragility of MY life as well as who i am and what I do. On the face of it, everything is well: I have a burgeoning career as a music publisher and I manage to run a fairly lucrative freelance career alongside it. For some reason, however, I'm not happy and fulfilled, and haven't been for sometime. Immediate reasons for my uncomfort are the tensions at home, my perpetual singleness, and my sudden loneliness from close friends. Naturally, a snapshot of a life never reveals a true story or the real reasons for things, but real feelings in motion. Of course, those who know me might tell me to have 'patience'. The truth is that I do have considerable patience but that it has now worn very thin on several key points of my life. It has been a decisive weekend of thought certainly, but also I ended up doing something I never thought I'd do and I hate myself for it. .. at the moment!
Why else decisive? I have been asked to accompany my most favourite piece of music in November. It is quite a coincidence since I have listened to it most days recently when distressed. Oddly I have never played it before and have always wanted to but believed it too difficult.
Where does patience come into this rant? Life is all about markers and the energy they give us. To my choir in Cambridge I used to describe musical moments of potential energy as 'zero gravity' moments. It gave a useful image to image weightlessness before the onset of gravity and engaging of potential energy. We live our lives though these markers (or zero gravitys) and they constantly propel us to on to the next one. I suppose you might call them goals, except for the fact you don't necessarily know that they are going to happen. It is the ability to keep happy the potential energy between markers which keeps life fluid.
In discovering markers this has been an important weekend. However at the moment I seem to be stuck in a stasis of zero gravity with lots of potential markers, but none to engage with or grab. Depression and personal loneliness are both conceptual in my world, so I await the rebirth my mental struggling gives way to. It goes to prove that patience is such an important part of life, and had I not been stuck in that queue at Marks and Spencer, I would never have linked all this together.
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
Busy Jon
Well, Jon has been busy. Emotionally I've had the worst time in about 3 years, musically I've been busy playing, my work has been busy and I've been socialising lots.
You may have noticed a decrease in the frequency of posting; this is down to busyness, and a total lack of mental capacity to be musing.
What is the solution? A day off work, breakfast at my favourite delicatessen, coffee at patisserie Valerie, 1-hour long full-body massage at Selfridges, and then Gordon's Wine bar with some of my philosophites.
Oh yes! A joyful day. I had forgotten how good a massage was. I felt $100 after it was all done and fully relaxed. Alas it is bank account heavy, but much worth it.
Anyway, a few images:
You may have noticed a decrease in the frequency of posting; this is down to busyness, and a total lack of mental capacity to be musing.
What is the solution? A day off work, breakfast at my favourite delicatessen, coffee at patisserie Valerie, 1-hour long full-body massage at Selfridges, and then Gordon's Wine bar with some of my philosophites.
Oh yes! A joyful day. I had forgotten how good a massage was. I felt $100 after it was all done and fully relaxed. Alas it is bank account heavy, but much worth it.
Anyway, a few images:
.jpg)
.jpg)
Sunday, May 14, 2006
Have you seen my mummy?
Well now I'm a MA. Not as in mother, but as in Master of Arts. Master Lee is very masterly, one might say. So, a couple of photos from my weekend.
College at night from the Senior Guest Room:
Wrong in SO many ways:
College at night from the Senior Guest Room:
Wrong in SO many ways:
Before becoming a Master... academic pose:
The new Master Lee:
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
London is an amazing city
When I have a bad day, there are various things I do to cheer myself up. One of the most effective is to spend time walking along the South Bank in the sunshine amongst the bustle, then to go and sit on a staircase that leads down from the embankment to the beach. The soothing water laps, the river traffic goes back and forth, there is happiness coming down from the South Bank, and there is the amazing London skyline. It never fails to right a day, or to make a problem objective. How many people in history have discovered this amazing power of London I began to wonder......
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
