Lunch at TJIs

I'm sitting waiting for the shops to open in Westfield the huge upmarket shopping centre in Stratford. For a provincial like me this is glitz and glamour writ large but obviously, the client base hasn't left their beds yet since 9am has come and gone.  I hope that 9.30 will open a few doors.

No, I have just learnt from my trusty informant in Australia that the shop opens at 10am !
It's not been a waste of time since I now know where the shop is situated and I'v had a trip down memory lane with Andrew as I wandered around with "Face Time" switched on and the pictures took us both back to a time when the Centre had only just opened. It's remarkable to be able to not only have the picture link but to be able to wander about discussing everything as if we were shoulder to shoulder.
Andrew, true to form became fixated on food shops, the tantalising thought of super large burger's, or a racks of ribs with or without chips. Maybe if I time it right I'll have a taster !!
Emerging from the glitzy and glamour the sky was slate grey, heavy with rain and his yearning for the food feast slipped away in the reality of our English weather and the emotional damper that these overcast sky bring.
It's lunch time and I have returned to Westfield in search of food. As I mentioned we had visited the place just after it had opened, choosing TJI, a steak to die for haven. I had forgotten but he remembered the balcony over-looking the people moving around the shops.
As I walked onto the top floor it came flooding back, the mock up yellow taxi which sits outside the entrance to TJIs, the tables overlooking the food hall, nothing had changed, why should it.
On hearing her accent I got into conversation with an Australian woman sitting at a table not too far away. She was on holiday visiting her daughter who lives in London and found out she lived on the Sunshine Coast just north of Brisbane. I mentioned Andrew and the fact that he lives in Mackay and inevitably the problems of having children living so far away cropped up as she asked me how I felt about him settling down so far away. Obviously it was high in her mind since she was due to return home later in the week and time started to hang heavily. She was chipper, loving the tradition of London but missing home and her own bed, the sunshine and the beaches, the light and and open space, the sensible traffic and the decent proximity between us and the stranger ahead.

Books

Books standing like sentinels, guarding their knowledge with deep sobriety. Each a work of someone's imagination, a desire to impart what they had learnt and what they want others to know.
Books on politics, books on travel, booked on philosophy, biographies, tales of the sea,and stories of love and deceit, of honour and corruption. Books on books, waiting patiently to be handed down from their vigil on the shelf, each self importantly proclaiming, me not him, I'm important take me !! The stories told and the excitement in store for those brave enough to open the page is like no other.
Each trip into the stack each browse of the covers brings a tingle of expectation, a frisson of excitement and anticipation, where will the story take us, what will the exposai reveal. Will the new knowledge change our perception, will it be life changing or simply disposed of as flaky ! The writers play with us with their intrigue and skilful use of language, we revel in their turn of phrase, their ability to catch our imagination and thrill us with revelation.
How much putty we are in their hands as we turn the page eager for more, captivated by the story or the proposition, willingly burning the midnight oil in the quest for answers.

Which God ?

I draw my thoughts not from the scriptures but from listening to a group of people from many beliefs,  talking about what 'they' believe.
Isn't that the best way to come to this vexing position regarding God and his teachings.

The first question is which of the gods on offer do you choose, there seems to be more than one. Or is it that there is only one God just many interpretations. If there are a number of well thought out concepts of "my"God then the singularity of which team I support is down to a very human decision, I'm attracted to their shirt or I live in the city where they have their home advantage.
I am tribal and follow the herd.
If on the other hand I listen to the propositions put forward by the proponents of a specific set of beliefs and I like some of what I hear but Joe across from me has tickled my senses with another way of looking at the issue, can I be collegiate and belong to more than one religion.
The problem seems to be the claim made by the affirmation on earth of God, the churches which each claim authority to speak on his behalf.
This traditional view is of a masculine, often wrathful, sometimes forgiving, opinionated law giving oligarch be it Jehovah or Allah, setting his rules and passing them down through Moses and the Ten Commandments or Allah, and his conversations with Mohamed.
I think the term is "prescriptive" and it's this lack of flexibility which is both a strength and a weakness. Obviously a strength in the way that no one can evade the consequences, the rules are the rules. A weakness in trying to square the circle and manage the concept of a loving God who would do such terrible things to his children.
I third concept is to evolve the idea that God is within us as a sensory perception of what love and humility to our fellow human beings could be if we spent the time thinking and meditating about the unanswerable questions which have bothered mankind through the Millenia.
God is in some ways a philosophical construct based on our deep desire to answer the unanswerable question what happens to "us" when we die. All else is froth

Waking to a new world.

I'm becoming an addict. Waking up to the radio alarm at the weekend brings a plethora of mental sounds and sights as the BBC spins it's creative mind to bring and expose us to the nooks and crannies of life on these islands.
Today it was life on the farm, tracing the years of a family who are tenant farmers in Dorset.

The interviewer knew her job as she conversed rather than interviewed and teased the stories out of a father and two grown up sons with the reassurance of their wives, feet on the ground providing the solid sounding board to what ever plans they had in the past or for the future.
The cockerel crowing provided the early morning farming background, the cattle plaintively complaining as they were held in a pen whilst the Vet examined them for TB, a little dog clearly worried by the interruption in the normal day to day events was yapping it's frustration as we in our beds were given privy to this real "living" event. No sound of traffic, no horns, only the sound of an industry that has gone on in various forms since the early farming started in the Tigris-Euphrates valley 5000 BC.
The impact of the program as with all these outside broadcast programs is the human touch and the way the extended family had coped with the vicissitudes of life down on the farm.
Making do, coping with the unforeseen, doing without to have the cash to feed the business with its seed corn, new calves , a piece of machinery that couldn't be afforded but equally couldn't be avoided.
Back in 2001 "Foot and Mouth" turned the fathers dream into a nightmare as he was forced to release his sons into other occupations, economics demanded the harsh reality but it also released the boys into creating their own path. One went into flying whilst the other went into growing flowers.
The interview caught them at a time when the wheel had turned full circle.
The eldest, apart from growing flowers had become the World Darts Champion for 2014 and with winnings had bought his Dad the beginnings of a new herd and it was these cattle who were being tested.
The family were solidly at one with each other, they were a team brought up, not on a diet of fast food and night long TV but a love for what they were doing and the reliance they understood they had for each other. It's this last piece of life's curriculum which we learn or fail to learn at our peril. We are better as a collective than as a soloist, the reflective support we get, the unencumbered option of having a history with someone which can be called upon to give meaning to everything !!!

How's your attention span ?

I'v been listening to another one of those early Saturday morning radio programs devoted to rambling and the people who ramble.
Again as last week it was a group of women, 90% of them had lost their husband to (natural causes) the others had become divorced.
Listening to the interviews as they walked through the countryside one was struck, yet again of the need to belong. In this case missing their life long partner, (they were all oldish biddies) they found the collegiate interplay with women of a similar mind set stimulating and cathartic.
The babble of many eventually hones down to a conversation between two interspersed with silence for ones self.
One disadvantage I could see is that whilst it gets you out when in all probability you would be stuck at home the chatter would mask the very awareness of the things around you and might just as well be held in a 'tea room'.

If you are keen on recording what you are seeing, photograph or writing,there is a great amount of stopping and starting as your attention is caught and in your minds eye you concoct the story line and introduce a backdrop  to the main actors, the ducks on the pond or the hedgehog out for his evening stroll. Of course lost in this little piece of nature you are soon lost to the group. 

I think perhaps two maybe three people, although three begins to pull and create other orbits in this human based celestial cosmos is the maximum for a walk that combines ones own inner sanctum along with the call of fellowship.
It's a cliché to suggest that women are always adapt at small talk when together. They seem as happy as finches chattering away, two to the dozen, bonded in their sense of not seeking or needing to move outside the importance of the part many of them play, in the human theatre, that of having been a mother. It gives them a self sufficiency which men lack.   Men are by nature more introverted as they seek a role, be it in work or an interest outside work, to find fulfilment. This often leads them to gather "outside interests" which are personal needing only the intellect to sustain a feeling of satisfaction. This is not to say women lack intellectual capacity, that is clearly stupid but having hung their hat on the enormous task of raising their children they can happily relax their guard and become satisfied with a commentary about themselves in a way that a man, still to define his purpose can't.
Now if that doesn't stimulate comment then  I know your 'attention span' doesn't reach the bottom of the page ?

Sitting, waiting !

As the situation  involving the re-election of the FIFA chairman, Sepp Blatter proceeds towards his probable election I felt, listening to the local media, that this man was clearly implicated in the wrong doings of members of his team who are now under FBI control awaiting trial. It seems totally implausible that Blatter didn't know what was going on or that he was involved but, like Al Capone who was always careful that his lieutenants carried the can, (it was on tax evasion that they eventually got him) he has always stayed one step ahead of being found implicated.
Actually it was Chuck Blazier the American FIFA boss, who was also pulled in a couple of years ago on tax fraud, who has been singing to the American authorities, and is at the root of the arrests yesterday.
The common European voice has been one of condemnation. They naturally condemn the corruption and one is left to ponder why the Asian, African and Middle Eastern countries not only didn't condemn Blatter but said they would support his electoral hopes.
I put it down to a cultural blindness if and when it comes to paying bribes (the main accusation against those arrested) since coming from parts of the world were slipping the middle man the Rupee is par for the course.
But having listened to the history of FIFA under its president,prior to Blatter, Joao Havelange and how his aim was to pull the organisation away from the tight grip the European nations had on the game and make it a truly world by inviting a wider national base and ensuring that the massive profits were distributed amongst the poorer nations, this didn't go down well in Europe. Blatter since 1998 has followed in his footsteps and awarded the siting of the World Cup to emergent nations, spreading the largesse ever wider. It's no wonder the non-European nations support him. He continued to brake the hold of the 'established plutocracy' and they have been sitting on the sidelines waiting !!!

Sent from my iPad

What is appropriate.

The saga of FIFA and the Teflon coated chairman Sepp Blatter is hotting up after an American led raid on the hotel in Switzerland where the FIFA officials had gathered to elect a new chairman where it was assumed Blatter would be a 'shoe in' for an unprecedented 5th term.
The issue is as always money and it highlights a number of things.
Soccer is a world wide game which through the advent and the the ability of the Internet to transmit perfect world wide TV viewing of tournaments anywhere in the world, the advertising industry is able to reach a huge audience and the money involved in soccer is enormous. A perfect breeding ground for corruption and graft as the nefarious characters involved in the deal making skim off their take.
After the raid in Switzerland the whole of the European football establishment has heaved a huge sigh of relief, at last something was being done to reign in the corrupt wheeler,dealers who have blighted the game. There has been a decade of criticism of the Sepp Blatter era where shady dealing was allowed to flourish and money controlled all aspects of the game.
TV rights to broadcast the sport has made the salaries paid to players seem obscene, particularly in a game which is supposed to be "the people's game".  
It's interesting that it took the Americans (hardly fans of soccer) and their campaign to go after the corrupt money men in a number of industries, including, at last the Banking Industry. It took the no nonsense Americans to swoop on the ringleaders in Switzerland. There should be a lot of questions and finger pointing at our own 'regulatory authorities' who let money laundering and Mafia style dealings  go on, in the "soft touch", poorly regulated London Monetary market. We should be ashamed of the FSA and the continued shirking of their responsibilities, kowtowing to the influence of the Banks, Hedge Funds and the Oligarchs who might move their cash away.
The GP driver Lewis Hamilton has just signed a three year contract for £100 million which is considerably more than the salaries of the top footballers Ronaldo,Messi, Bale and Rooney who earn, plus minus, £15 million per annum, but Hamilton's is a sport of the elite where bucket loads of dosh swill around as manufactures compete for the top spot.
Whilst the knives have been out in the various European Football Associations for the people running FIFA and particularly for Blatter, the ever more influential Asian market and their Administrators have been very non committal about the affair. We learn this morning they are still solidly behind Sepp Blatter in his bid to continue running FIFA.
One is drawn to the conclusion and it's one I have continually asked, how do we square the circle  regarding our own perceptions of cultural and business norms.
Obviously they are not set by some idealistic world wide consensus but vary tremendously from one part of the world to another.
Bribery is endemic in many Asian and Middle Eastern countries. You don't conclude deals without the 'under the table' sweetener and many European companies have found they go into negotiations with one hand tied behind their back by the authorities at home in Europe coming down heavily when and if a bribe has been paid.
How do we begin to conceive of a unity of purpose when the modus operandi is so at odds.
How do we, on a national basis hope to meld a common consensus about a whole host of things when the cultural imperative is so far apart.
The common agenda in the days of "Dixon of Dock Green" was respect for authority and a sense amongst the common people that right was right and wrong was wrong. This simple argument was the cement that bound everyone together.
Today we try to cope with so many interpretations of what is right and what is wrong in our cultural melting pot that we have begun to doubt our surety and would rather 'go with the flow' as new norms rise to the top.