write.as/jonbeckett

The younger children are in bed already, put to sleep by watching the England team play their opening game in the World Cup. They had such high hopes, but completely lost interest by half time. Of course England scraped a win, but within a week or two the entire team will probably be splashed across the tabloid newspapers, labeled turnips, or something similar. The manager will be fired. Again.

Nobody ever seems to want to admit that the “system” in the UK is massively flawed. All of our children have played football for town teams at one point or another, and it’s always been a bit of a mystery. The fees to take part in football are much higher than rugby, and yet you never see any benefit from them – the Football Association takes a huge cut, and the rest vanishes into a black hole inside the local football club – I suspect the same story is repeated in many towns around the country.

Don’t even get me started about the poisonous attitude of many of the kids that play football – I’ve heard some dreadful language hurled between team-mates while walking away after losing. It never happens on the rugby field. Then again, there are no heroes on a rugby field either – the team work together, win together, and lose together. I’m so glad we continued to let our kids play both football and rugby – so they could make their own mind up about which they enjoy more – football is coming out of it very badly indeed.

Anyway. Silence.

I haven’t sat in the quiet on an evening and emptied my head in quite some time. My other half is at a planning meeting for the summer camp she helps run in town, and our eldest is watching a steady diet of YouTube while supposedly working hard on a board that will get her a place on a college course next year.

I’m almost tempted to – shock, horror – read a book! I started reading “Sleeping Giants” while in Germany a few weeks ago, and will be returning next week. I used to read so much more than I do these days. I think the most prolific period was while commuting back and forth from London about ten years ago (has it really been ten years? it seems like yesterday!). I need to get back into reading – our bookshelves are full of books bought and read in the years before children – since then our evenings and weekends have turned into endless rounds of attending sporting fixtures, or late nights collapsed on the sofa watching rubbish movies and TV shows. Maybe I can do something about it. I stopped drinking coffee. Maybe I can stop watching TV too.

Of course if I stopped watching TV, I would invariably spend even more time messing around on the computer late at night. Because I’m sensible like that.

I’m not quite sure how it happened. One moment I was finding out just how difficult rowing might be, and the next the seat had slipped from under me, and I was propping myself off the floor by one arm – much to the delight of my daughter, who continued rowing alongside, despite nearly wetting herself in an explosion of laughter that caused everybody surrounding us to begin watching.

After being helped by one of the organisers of the rowing machines, I was back on the seat, and staging something of a fight back. After coming back past my daughter on the little electronic readouts, the ridiculousness of it all struck me, and I slowed – trying to engineer a dead-heat between us – cheering her on as she pulled the last few strokes of her imaginary oars.

If you’re wondering what on earth was going on, we were at the family day of the local rowing regatta, and I had been arm-twisted into having a go on the rowing machines by my daughter, who uses them at school. We were waiting for my other daughter to complete a race on the river – she was competing in a race against other pupils from her school.

The rest of the afternoon was spent drinking cider, and narrowly missing lots of people I knew in and around the various tents, exhibitions, and attractions. Every time I bumped into somebody, either they were heading somewhere, or I was – it seems the universe really doesn’t want me to foster friendships at the moment. It left me kind of dispirited by the end of the day, when I ended up looking after our picnic while the rest of the family had a wander around the field together.

Anyway. We did things as a family today. Perhaps that’s the important thing. We laughed, we cheered (Miss 13 won her rowing race), we ate all manner of rubbish, and we/I drank rather a lot. Of course “rather a lot” in my world is two pints of cider. I’m SUCH a light-weight these days.

This evening is going to be about watching football at the World Cup, and growing increasingly frustrated with the continual diving, fouling, and outright cheating going on. If I see another grown man roll around on the floor in pretend agony, I’m going to lose the plot entirely. Maybe there should be a pink card, for play acting – I’m not sure what the punishment should be though.

For a long time I kept up the routine (or habit?) of posting to the blog every day – sometimes a few words, and sometimes hundreds or even thousands of words. Usually each day the words would come as easily as turning on a tap, and at other times – such as today – I would struggle for each word, each sentence, and each paragraph.

The words will of course return. Something will come to mind – it always does. In the meantime, I thought I might share the story of today with you.

It all began a little after 9am when I scraped myself out of bed. I stumbled downstairs, had a shower, got dressed, and then busied myself with cleaning the kitchen and tidying the lounge. One by one the rest of the household appeared, and I started hanging washing out, and cutting the grass. By the time I re-appeared inside they had all left for the infant school fete where my other half works, and I had a kitchen to clear up again.

After putting a couple of loads of washing through the machine, and hanging it all out to dry, I too left for the infant school – to show my face more than anything. No sooner had I walked onto the school field, I spotted my other half helping behind one of the stalls, and our younger children running another stall – a competition to guess how many sweets in a jar, and the name of a teddy bear.

While chattering away with them, there was a tug on my arm, and an arm pointed to a cycling machine setup in the far corner of the field.

“You could do that Dad!”

And that’s how I got arm twisted into a silly competition to measure maximum power output on a cycling machine. It was a promotional thing to promote a health and fitness company that has setup in town. I wasn’t really dressed for cycling, but thought “what the hell”.

I started grinning – and so did the guy running the stall – when he saw how easily I was able to spin the pedals. He fiddled with a few settings on the machine, and then swung a lever right across the machine.

“Lets see what you can really do then.”

In the few seconds it took me to spin the pedals up, I hit 1200 watts. This isn’t necessarily that impressive, but apparently the fact that I could have kept it going for quite some time, and that all I really do is cycle to work was more impressive. I could have turned a much bigger gear too – although I’m not sure the machine had anything more to offer. Obviously at a school fete they were only measuring people over the first few seconds too, and it was obvious I could have sat there, spinning the machine for a good few minutes. It’s hard to explain to people just how difficult cycling uphill into a headwind in the real world is – cycling machines don’t have a “destroy all hope” setting.

I was offered another go to take the top of the leader-board, but I laughed, and declined. Quite apart from not being the ridiculously competitive parent that I so often see making an arse of themselves, it would hardly be right for the husband of a staff member to take the plaudits on parent fund-raising day.

I will admit to smiling a little bit though.

After surviving a couple of days drinking water, and hopefully making it through the withdrawal from tea and coffee, it occurred to me this evening that I could drink redbush tea, because it has no caffeine in it.

Redbush tea, also known as “Rooibos”, supposedly has all sorts of health benefits, which are of course pedaled by health shops the world over. They proudly claim that it is rich in “polyphenols”, that it lowers your blood pressure, improves bone health, and even helps treat colic and diabetes. All I know is I quite like redbush tea – I always have done. Years ago I was sick, and couldn’t face drinking normal tea or coffee, but strangely redbush tea was fine. I seem to remember adding honey and sugar to it too, which probably turns it from something that’s good for you into something that’s remarkably bad for you – although I do seem to remember that honey is a very efficient way of getting glucose into your body.

I should probably mention that I didn’t study biology, or sports science, so if I sound at all knowledgeable, it’s entirely by accident.

Depending on where you live in the world, and what brands sit on the shelves in your nearby supermarkets, you might be wondering why I have titled this post “Tick Tock Tea” – it happens to be the brand name of the most prevalent redbush tea in the UK.

I have a red box – like the one at the top left. I didn’t actually know they make other variations, so now I’m wondering where I might procure some from. Please excuse me while I pay a visit to Amazon.

I stopped drinking tea and coffee today. Completely.

I haven’t been feeling very well for the last week, and while that is almost certainly down to a bug picked up in Germany, it got me thinking. I often laugh with friends that I’m pretty much “immune” to caffeine – I can drink an espresso before bed, and still fall asleep immediately. Throughout the day at work I will often drink three, four, or even five cups of coffee. It’s ridiculous. So I just stopped.

Thankfully I don’t really have an “addictive” element to my make-up – I can take or leave most things. Of course stopping drinking coffee so suddenly has resulted in headaches this afternoon, but paracetamol will take care of that until my body gets used to the idea.

Who knows – perhaps substituting tea and coffee for water will do me some good in the long run. I’ve always known that drinking a pint of water before bed cleans your skin up within a few days – now I’m wondering what impact removing team and coffee might have in the long run. I guess we’ll find out.

I stopped drinking tea and coffee today. Completely.

I haven’t been feeling very well for the last week, and while that is almost certainly down to a bug picked up in Germany, it got me thinking. I often laugh with friends that I’m pretty much “immune” to caffeine – I can drink an espresso before bed, and still fall asleep immediately. Throughout the day at work I will often drink three, four, or even five cups of coffee. It’s ridiculous. So I just stopped.

Thankfully I don’t really have an “addictive” element to my make-up – I can take or leave most things. Of course stopping drinking coffee so suddenly has resulted in headaches this afternoon, but paracetamol will take care of that until my body gets used to the idea.

Who knows – perhaps substituting tea and coffee for water will do me some good in the long run. I’ve always known that drinking a pint of water before bed cleans your skin up within a few days – now I’m wondering what impact removing team and coffee might have in the long run. I guess we’ll find out.

After the adventure in Germany last week, it was back to earth with a bump today – emptying the dishwasher, making breakfasts and lunches, washing my bike, filling it’s tyres with air, and cycling to the office. Quite a contrast from living in a hotel within walking distance of the office.

I spent the greater part of the morning filling out expense claims to cover the flights, hotel, trains, taxi, and food. This is of course complicated by exchanged rates, which have to be recorded for every single transaction. Administration hell. I usually help the wonderful lady that pays my expenses by including a print-out of my credit card statement, with each receipt numbered and cross-matched. I think I’m the only person that does that.

So. I’m back – for a couple of weeks at least. I’ll be back in Germany the week after next, and again in July. I really should start choosing hotels based on their reward programmes though, rather than how close they are to the office. I’m slowly racking up air-miles – I imagine at some point in the future I’ll be able to cash them in on a fun trip to Germany – maybe a weekend away for myself and my other half – a chance to visit the various museums that line the river through Frankfurt. While working in the city, I never get a chance to see or do anything other than work.

Since work has been taking me here, there and everywhere, people have often expressed their jealousy – imagining that it’s somehow fun to visit new places. It probably is fun if you’re not working – but the harsh reality is that I rarely see much more than the hotel, the route to the office, and a conference room or two. Last week is the first time I can recall going out for a walk on my own in years. I wandered from street to street, watching life happen around me, and ended up walking somewhere in the region of nine miles over the course of a few hours.

I don’t mind my own company at all, but there is an exception – sitting alone in restaurants. I’m not sure if it’s because normal family life is busy, chaotic, noisy, and never-ending. When you suddenly find yourself sitting at a table on your own with nobody to talk to – nobody to share you day with – it can be pretty lonely. Especially when your thoughts are dominated with the world of expectation resting on your shoulders the next morning.

I’ve often been told to care less about the work I do, but it’s just not the way I’m put together. When things don’t work, or the way I have done something is questioned, I tend to take it to heart. Of course cultural differences weigh into this too – some nationalities can easily be seen as blunt, tactless, or just plain rude when expressing opinions. A client recently grinned while I mediated a discussion, and remarked “Oh, you English – you so often say things without saying them”.

I bought a music magazine this morning for the first time in years. I was wandering around the local stationery shop with Miss 13 – who had some money burning a hole in her pocket – and happened upon the magazine rack. While half-keeping an eye on her, I started flicking through the various magazines on display.

I used to buy quite a few magazines when I was younger. My college years coincided with the rise of Maxim, FHM and Loaded. I’m not sure if they still exist in the same form, but they were essentially Playboy aimed at the 18 to 25 market. There were no nude photo shoots, but there were numerous glamour shoots of movie and TV stars, accompanied by “insightful” interviews (har har). I still remember the Gillian Anderson edition of FHM now (and wish I had kept it – apparently it’s worth a LOT of money now). I think it’s fair to say they catapulted her from the X-Files into the stratosphere. I remember reading an interview with her years later, and she still couldn’t believe they talked her into the photo shoot in the first place. Let’s just say it sold a LOT of magazines.

Anyway. I’m getting sidetracked.

While looking through the magazines, I happened upon the BBC Music magazine – an offshoot of Radio 3 that concentrates on classical. It had a CD on the front with the BBC orchestra playing Elgar’s Enigma Variations. This is where I admit that I’m a bit of a classical music nerd on the quiet. Yes, I love pop, folk, and rock music – but I also love classical. Whenever I’m out and about and musicians are playing in the street – violins, cellos – that kind of thing, I can’t help but stop and marvel.

So – Enigma Variations. Even if you don’t know it, you’ve probably heard it. If you’ve seen the movie “Dunkirk”, you’ve definitely heard it. You know that soundtrack that Hans Zimmer had awards thrown at him for? He didn’t write it – Edward Elgar did in the late 1890s.

Here’s a performance of it borrowed from Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra on YouTube :

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QA_OFYssSOQ

Nimrod is obviously one part of the Enigma Variations, but I think it’s perhaps the best. Not a lot of people know the variations are based on people that Elgar knew. He famously never described the meaning behind much of his music – leaving it for the audience to attribute meaning. I like to think that Nimrod might describe me in some ways – a quiet, steadfast person that doesn’t like the limelight, but catches others, picks them up, dusts them down, and sets them on their way again.

I’ve been listening to the track throughout the afternoon, and it’s served as a jumping-off point for a world of music I haven’t listening to for a long time. Venus from Holst’s “The Planets”. Sibelius’s Violin Concerto. I could go on.

Here’s that Violin Concerto – go make yourself a cup of tea, sit down somewhere quiet for a while and just listen…

https://soundcloud.com/ray-chen-violin/live-in-sweden-sibelius-violin-concerto-1st-movement-extract

Music is so powerful – it seems to tie directly into long forgotten memories, emotions, and feelings. I only have to see the cover of West Side Story, and I start to hum “Maria” to myself. When “The Sound of Music” plays on TV at Christmas, I remember sitting on the couch at my Nan’s house when I was little, listening to “A Few of My Favourite Things” on her record player. The opening bars of “Cats” take me both to my childhood, and the first HiFi my Dad bought. Any mention of Gershwin rips me to pieces – recalling Mr Holland’s Opus, and the story of a music teacher who considered himself a failure.

Anyway. Music. I feel like saying it surrounds us, and it binds us, but I think Alec Guinness once said that about something else entirely. Perhaps it’s no accident that people used to swap mix tapes with each other – perhaps they understood something that has been forgotten about the power of music – both to lift us, to help us understand ourselves, and to make sense of the situations we sometimes find ourselves in.

It seems to me that friendships forged through music seem to burn a little brighter than any other – I’m not sure why – I just know they do.

I woke ten minutes before the alarm on the phone this morning, and showed my face for breakfast in the hotel a little after 6am. After downing a coffee and some croissants, I finished packing my bag, checked out, and splashed through the rain to Frankfurt station. Half an hour later I was at the airport, and half an hour after that at the gate for my flight. Two hours early.

Over the course of the next two hours, Lufthansa decided to change the gate twice. I imagine that was also the reason for the flight being half an hour late too – moving the plane all over the damn airport.

To be honest, the journey home has been remarkably uneventful. Trains ran on time, and even connected with each other where they needed to. By mid-afternoon I was home, and up to my elbows in washing up.

It’s good to be home. It’s the little things – like being able to make a hot drink whenever you like (there was no kettle in the hotel room), having a proper sofa to go sit on, and of course having a fast internet connection.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a cup of coffee to make, and a world of email, blogs, and TV shows to catch up on. Actually, we all know that’s a lie – I don’t watch much TV at all. I’m going to sit and do nothing for a change.

I made it to the end of three days on-site in Germany. There is already talk of further visits later in the year – another in two weeks that is already booked, followed by two weeks in July, and two in September. Looks like I’m going to be spending quite a bit of time over here. There are also rumors of next year.

I’m purposely doing nothing tonight. I picked up a stomach bug yesterday – either I caught it on the flight out, or in the office. I’m drinking leftover wine, half-listening to a music channel on the TV, and packing things back into my case. I leave early tomorrow – I think I’ll be back in the UK by late morning, and will then face the adventure of early afternoon trains to get home.

I’m shattered. It’s surprising how much it takes out of you – being in front of the client all the time – especially when they are asking for things that are not “out of the box”. Of course that’s why they pay somebody like me – because the “box” doesn’t really exist when you involve somebody like me, and they know that. It’s kind of like the Ian Malcolm quote from Jurassic Park though – “they were so preoccupied with wether or not they could, they didn’t stop to think if they should”.

Anyway. I’ve still only read about a hundred pages of the book I brought with me. Maybe I’ll sit quietly and try to read the rest of it tonight. Perhaps another glass of wine first though.