A new job and the hurly burly of commuting

So, this week I have started a new job, a bit of a shock to the system after my extended break and commuting as rather taken the gloss of the day...

I have to get up earlier, not a problem, leave before I have managed to have at least two coffees and some toast, that's OK. I have to iron clothes again, which sounds like I don't normally and then join a swirling, rushing mass of humanity that think London is some sort of assault course at which you must throw yourself with no concern for those you might step on, into or over as you race for work and chant (an internal monologue)- 'gotta get a seat, gotta get a seat- that's my seat!'.

I've noticed that the rush doesn't really slow down until people get to coffee shop and get their baby beakers, you know that cup with the plastic top that just takes you back to more innocent times? An eddy in the journey to work.

Similarly the rush home is an escalator fight of hips and handbags, strategically placed attitudes, as everyone moves rapidly along within their MP3 cocoons, to the evenings unique and personal soundtrack. Salmon heading home... 'nuf said.

Oh the temptation to play a Bond theme or the Bourne Identity... I feel quite relaxed when I leave my desk, but the journey, the aggression, being away has left me relaxed, but not immune to this! Its not a feeling I want to lose.

The job is good though, small company, focused positive and pleasant with real opportunities and challenges.

Venice, two adults, two kids - maybe three!

We went to celebrate my wife's birthday and our 10th wedding anniversary and Oh Wow!



I fell in love with this city. Although, I have to say that the city's beauty is heightened by the dodgy sandwich on BA (British Airways) economy class and the shock of having to shell out an additional £320 on my youngest cos British Airways did not think she was an infant anymore... all before 7:00 in the morning!

And the contingent of octogenarians who anxiously try to scope your seat number as you board in the hope that you and your family are not sitting next to them.


Once in the air they helplessly, (the octogenarians) attempt to gas all other passengers by farting for the full two hours 10 minutes of the flight... I can only assume that this was to help keep the plane in the air and subdue any screaming children.



Ho hum. A small price to pay. Venice is beautiful, entrancing and enchanting. Where ever you go the scenery is stunning the buildings against the back drop of blue sky and blue lagoon water, just... What can I say, you just have to soak it all up as you sit at Levanes drinking your tea and watch your children happily persecute the pidgeons in Saint Mark's, fueled on a cocktail of gellato and pizza.

The food is great, sea bass, fish risotto and Pizza with mushrooms the people wonderful and generous. It is a city that is hard to leave without promising each other that you will come back.

And then there are the the octogenarians who, at Venice Marco Polo, provided comic relief after our restful short break. Who, with a great sense of irony, drag their many suitcases to the check in desk and then over tax the staff with demands for wheelchairs to take them to their respective flights.

I can only assume to conserve there essential gases for the flight. There is nothing like airing your dirty laundry in public.

It's been 7 weeks since my last post…

So I went on holiday and discovered that France cannot be navigated by wifi hotspot alone! But with my wife and three kids, no problem. What follows is a quick description of the first few days, of what was the best holiday I've had for a long time:



Day one.

Friday. We are in Portsmouth and of course it's raining, but the tent is up and we are all warm and dry. We sail in two days.


Day two

Still raining. It started in earnest, (not a small town near-by, but rain that is committed to making it really wet), after the tent was up, the temperature fleeces are on and I hope it stops before we have to pack up.


Day three

Sunday. How ironic it's stopped raining! We have a window of opportunity and we are going to to take it. Packing the tent at the speed of Brian he snail!


Whooppee at the The Royal Beech hotel, showers and warm baths all-round, hot teas and dry clothes. Have we become fair weather campers?


After a walk on the South pier, admiring the rain, sorry the view, we introduced the children to the visiting community of geriatrics and business people in the chandeliered luxury of the hotel restaurant. We stuck it out. Managed the food fight, a chorus of I need a pooh and a change of dress, which was definitely not in the dress code. Bed!


Day four

Monday. On the ferry. Due to the trials of the pre-ceeding days three members of the family are in the cabin asleep. The eldest has succumbed to hardcore drug abuse and is unconscious . I have decided this is my personal preference and also that of Brittany Ferries who thoughtfully provided the drugs are very conscientious and dislike the idea of projectile vomiting as much as I do. Although she was a lovely shade of green.

Hard on the two of us who had to watch, Simpsons the Movie, brilliant.


The five hour crossing is over. We are in France. It is raining.


Day five

Tuesday. Falaise. Put the tent up yesterday in torrential rain, an upgrade on earnest! Would not have managed it if the Germans next door hadn't put down their dinner and helped. Lots of mopping up. The appalling weather creates the opportunity for deep thought, different ways of torturing the children who think that provoking Dad is a way of relieving the tension and more seriously, I think I am becoming a pessimist! Oh yeah it isn't raining.


Day six

Wednesday. Explore the town and castle. Do a drawing! Just fantastic and plan to chase the sun...


Day seven and eight

Thursday to Friday. St Laurent sur Sevre at a sweet campsite, La Rouge Gorge, in the Vendee. Tomorrow La Puy du Fou. It's stopped raining.


Day nine

The hottest day of the holiday so far and a little bit surreal! We went to La Puy du Fou, a French day a out with difference, not excluding a French bias to history!

Now with high expectations we are going swimming...



I'll add more when I get back from Venice!