The Saturday List #54 - The perfect day in the Borough of Barnet !

A Saturday list with a difference.  This list is a chronologically correct list of the things which would constitute a perfect day in the London Borough of Barnet.

1. Get up early and have a cup of tea on my patio, before the Sun rises.

2. Take the dogs out on a long walk across the Totteridge Valley, watching a beautiful sunrise.

3. Drop the dogs off at home and make my way to Cafe Buzz in Finchley, for one of Helens marvellous full English breakfasts, with a leisurely read of the papers.

4. Nip back to the RAF museum in Hendon to have a look around the latest exhibits and displays.

5.  A trip up to the Adam & Eve pub in Mill Hill for a couple of pints and a bite to eat.

6. Make my way over to the Phoenix Cinema in Finchley to watch a matinee performance of one of my favourite films.

7. After the cinema, make my way back home to pick up the mutts for their late afternoon walk around Mill Hill, Sneak into the Railway in Mill Hill for a cheeky half of Guinness.

8.Drop off the doggies at home and then make my way to the Mill Hill Observatory for a an open day and observe the Planets Mars and Saturn through the large telescope.

9. Then nip in to the Mill Hill Services club for a game of Snooker and a couple more swifties.

10. Off to the Day of the Raj or the Mill Hill Tandoori (I love them both) for a fine curry.

11. Just before closing time, nip into the Bridge Pub for a nitecap and stick Rebel Rebel by David Bowie on the Jukebox.
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This would be as close to a perfect day in Barnet as I could imagine. Of course there are plenty of other things to do, places to go and food to eat. I should say that prior to last Summer a trip to Barnet FC to watch them play Manchester City FC in the FA cup would have been in there as well, but as Barnet no longer live here, I can't. What would be your perfect Barnet Saturday list.

Dyslexia Blog - The moment you know that things will be alright

For those of you who have read my dyslexia blogs before, you may wish to skip this paragraph as it is just the background. If you haven't read my dyslexia blogs before, here is a little preamble and introduction, so you know who I am and what I do and why I write this stuff. For those of you who know the story, skip to the end of the paragraph for todays installment. Let me give you a bit of Background so you know who I am and what I do. I was born in 1962. I didn't start talking until I was 4 years old (at all, not a single word). My parents thought I was deaf. My reading age at eleven was 5. When I was fifteen I started a rock and roll band called the False Dots, the band is still going strong. When I was 16 I started a business called Mill Hill Music Complex (although then it was simply called the studio), a rehearsal studio, as we had nowhere to rehearse. The business has grown into a very successful enterprise, one of Londons biggest and most well respected independent studios. We now have 16 studios and a music shop and also have a photography/video studio and a dance studio. I also have done IT work, mostly on a freelance basis since 1983. In 2012 I also moved into film production, producing two highly acclaimed documentary films, both of which had screenings at the House of Commons. When I was 31, a friend suggested I had a dyslexia test. To my surprise I was told I was moderately dyslexic. This made me interested in the subject. To my amazement, what I have learned over the years is that my lack of educational aptitude, my feelings of anger and injustice and the core of my personality have been formed by the fact I cannot read words in a linear fashion.

I sometimes read these dyslexia blogs and think that people who have never met me must think I am a quivering wreck, who has had a terrible life. In actual fact, nothing could be further from the truth. It has mostly been a scream. Throughout all of the difficulties, I have always been able to retreat into a fantasy world and pretend things were better. I've always had a great set of friends, who have been around when things have been difficult. I doubt any of them have ever even realised it, but they have kept me going. At primary school, when I was subject to all manner of daily trials and humiliations, there was always the promise of playtime, or the bell at the end of day. I was educated at St Vincents Primary School on the Ridgeway. I used to walk home past a little shop, by the Angel pond, called Lambs. It was run by a little old lady and they used to sell such delicacies as sugar mice and lucky bags. No matter how bad things were, I could always look forward to diving into Lambs to buy a treat with my friends as we walked home. In those days, we were given bus fare, but used to walk and spend this on sweets. Lambs was a tiny shop with a very old fashioned range. Some of my friends used to complain about the lack of choice and one or two were occasionally cheeky to the old dear who ran it. She would simply ban anyone who upset her, until such time as they issues a grovelling apology. I learned young that you never upset such people. I've always treated everyone who had control of my next meal with utmost respect. 

As we made our way home, all memories of the days schooling and humiliations were erased. Being the youngest of six children, there was never any pressure to do any schoolwork and no expectation of academic achievement. Over the last few years, since I've thought more deeply about the subject, I have wondered what it would have been like if I'd been the only child of aspirational parents who expected me to become a genius. What must it be like to have pressure of expectations? I can imagine that would be really hellish. For me, each poor school report was met with a shrug from my parents. My father would become frustrated because he thought I didn't listen to anyone. In truth, I tried, but often found I'd instantly forget information. Even worse was peoples names. Once I know someone, I am fine, but if I am introduced to a group of people, I've forgotten the first ones name by the time I've been introduced to the second one (Oddly the only time this doesn't seem to apply with attractive women, never quite figured out why). 

I was asked recently when I realised that "things were OK". The answer for me was quite a specific one. When I was 20, I had reached a bit of an impass in my life. I was completely skint and I had met a girl who I wanted to have a serious relationship with. She had a job and was quite happy to subsidise a poor musician like me, but that wasn't really where I wanted to be, meeting in the pub and drinking her wages. Fate intervened. I was in the habit of getting temporary work from the Golders Green Job Centre. One day, I realised that there was a very attractive girl working on the training desk. Despite my relationship status, I suddenly found I had become very interested in what training was on offer. To my eternal shame, I was in the habit of asking about training and then suggesting that we carried on the discussion in the pub after work. The young lady in question always informed me that she only went out with blokes who had a proper job and that she had expensive tastes. This didn't deter me, it became a challenge. In the end, she had enough and said "Right, I'm booking you in for an interview for an IT course". She then said "Come back when you are earning lots of money". So I ended up at Compucentres in Euston to be interviewed for a 1 year course in Computer programming. It was a three part test. A maths test. Easy peasy. A science test. Easy peasy. Then a logic test. I'd never seen one of these before and it completely threw me. A down side of dyslexia is that words I don't recognise are completely meaningless, so I had no idea at all what it was on about. Whilst I achieved 100% on the numeracy test and 90% on the science test, I got a big fat zero on the logic test. We had to come back a week later for an interview. For the test, I'd turned up in a suit. Everyone else in the room was uber casual. I felt that I stuck out like a sore thumb.

I turned up for the interview in rather more casual attire. The interviewer pulled me up on this "You wore a suit for the test, why are you not dressed smartly?" I replied that no one else had worn a suit, so I assumed the college was casual. He sniffily asked whether I always followed the crowd. He then gave me my marks. The bad news was that I'd got zero on the logic test, The worst score ever (jointly no doubt). I wasn't cut out to be a computer programmer. I was gutted. What a waste of time. I'd come all the way into town, to be told that. Then he said "We can however offer you a place on the Computer Operators TOPS course". TOPS was Margaret Thatchers answer to the IT skills crisis. You got £40 a week and work related training. Rather embarrassingly, I didn't know the difference between a computer programmer and an operator. So I asked the only question which I could think of "Who earns more, operators or programmers?" the answer temporarily stumped the interviewer. "Well, erm they both earn about the same, but programming is more interesting". I then asked "How long is the operators course? "It's 8 weeks". So iI then said "So I can spend a year studying programming, or a two months studying operating to earn the same amount of cash?". The interviewer replied "Yes". So I said "Sign me up for the Operators course". 

Three weeks later, I started. I worked as hard as I could and got decent marks, despite the fact that the subject was about as interesting as watching paint dry. The course covered punched cards, punched tape, barrel printers and all manner of other long forgotten aspects of computing. Most of it was out of date then.  After six weeks, we were told that the college would try and find us work assignments. By this time I was dreading it. I had twigged that although being a computer operator was well paid, it was generally shift work and very boring. As I was in a band, I was starting to dread this. Much pressure was put on us to take any job we were offered. This was how the college received its funding, so they simply wanted to get us a job and take the cash. As ever with dyslexia, all manner of problems with the work manifested themselves, but the course was relatively easy and I got good grades. Sadly for me, there were a couple of guys who did far better. They were guys who were, for want of a better word, nerdy. They loved the idea of working changing boxes of paper on printers and putting tapes on tapedrives. I was panicking, knowing that things like selecting a tape with a meaningless number from a large stock, would be a minefield for me.

We got sent to the first interview. This was as a trainee operator at a large insurance company. A Miss Marple type showed me around. When she asked if I had any questions, I asked what the wages were. She replied disdainfully "We don't discuss such things. It is a chance to work for a well respected company". I asked again. The answer shocked me. It would be less than I'd been earning as a jobbing painter and decorator. This would be reviewed after 2 years. I was horrified. Miss Marple was pretty horrified at me. She complained to the college that all I'd asked about was money. The second job was with a large oil company. This dripped money. I thought that this could be quite good, but the man who interviewed me was one of the most obnoxious people I'd ever met. Much as I'd have liked the bucks, he took an instant dislike to me and it was clear after 2 minutes that he was simply going through the motions. When I returned, I was informed that I'd not impressed him. It turned out his name was Jeff, but I'd kept calling him Dave. I was informed that if I had another bad interview, they'd give up on me.Oddly, despite the college making their money finding people jobs, they didn't actually tell you how to conduct an interview. 

A couple of days later, the third job came up. I was told that this was a "bit of a strange job". It was with a big software house. I was told that it wasn't a proper computer operators job and that the prospects may not be as good as with an oil company or am insurance company. I asked what a software house did. I was told that they wrote programs for big companies. I asked what the job was. They said it was unclear. They sent me along with the two nerds. I went last. I met one nerd walking back from the interview. I asked "How did it go?" He was really excited "I told them all about how I had written a program for my Sinclair Spectrum". I was worried. Then as I was ushered up, I saw nerd number 2. He was grinning from ear to ear. Here I was, never looked at a computer, going for a job with a company that writes software with two nerds who had been locked in their bedrooms for the last ten years with their Sinclair Spectrums. I'd given up before I entered the door. The person who interviewed me was called "Peter". He was rather posh. He reminded me of Prince Michael of Kent. Aristocratic demeanour, very well spoken.

Realising I couldn't out nerd the nerds, I decided to be honest. Peter asked why I wanted to work with the company. I replied that I wanted a job that was interesting and well paid. He laughed. He asked why I'd decided to do the Operations course, rather than the Programming course. I said that the programming course was a year long. I thought that as the operators course was only eight weeks, I would find out much more quickly whether the industry was for me. Peter then asked the question I'd been dreading. "So do you find computer operations interesting?" He fixed me with his steely blue eyes. I realised that he was a wily old fox and bullshitting was out of the question. "No, not in the least bit. I just thought it would be a way into the industry". He roared up laughing. He then said "What would be your perfect job?" I replied "Teaching guitar to Aboriginals in the outback of Australia". Again he roared up laughing. Realising Peter thought I was an idiot, I added "I don't suppose too many people who work here say that at their interviews". Peter replied "You may be surprised". I realised that he was a decent sort of chap and he was doing his best to be friendly, knowing he was interviewing someone totally unfit for the job. We ended up chatting for half an hour. He told me he'd been working for the company in Nigeria at a Shell Oil site before taking his current job. I mentioned that I'd been living in Stockholm and I loved travel. He said "That's interesting, Svenska Handlesbanken our one of our biggest customers" I said "I've got an account with them, I think it has three Krona's in". We shook hands and off I went on my way. I realised that in the whole 30 mins, we hadn't spoken about the job once. He hadn't even bothered to explain what it was. I was profoundly depressed.

One aspect of my dyslexia was that I was used to people in authority treating me like an idiot. I sometimes wondered how people could tell just how stupid I was? About ten minutes after I arived back at the college, there was a "bing bong Roger Tichborne to the careers office" on the college PA. Off I went. I expected to be turfed out. I was sat down and told "They liked you and want you to start on Friday week". I was amazed. I could harldly conceal my disbelief. Then I twigged "On a Friday, why on a Friday?". They replied "We don't know, people usually start on a Monday".

So on the Friday I turned up. I was met by "Neil" who was leaving the company and who's job I was taking. Neil was in the TA and was very keen on telling me about how he could survive on Dartmoor with only his bare hands to feed him. I thought "Oh Dear". At about 11.45 Neil disappeared. Larry came over. Larry introduced himself as the manager of "the team". He invited me to come with the team for a curry. That sounded like a good idea. After the curry, the team went to the pub and got bladdered. I joined them. I arrived back at the office to find Neil looking at me like a piece of dirt "Where have you been?" I informed him that Larry had invited me to "the pub with the team". Neil informed me that I didn't work for Larry and that Peter would be disgusted. I felt ashamed. One day in and I'd disgraced myself. I'd got lucky and got a good job for a good firm and could manage a day without being a disgrace! Neil stormed off home in disgust. I sat staring at the wall forlornly for an hour. Then Larry came up again. "A few of the team are going to the pub, for a beer, do you fancy coming?". What was there to lose? As I chatted to Larry, I found out he was a jazz Drummer. I ended up getting completely hammered. How I arrived home, I don't know. On Saturday, in the cold light of day, I realised what an idiot I had been. I fully expected to get the sack on Monday morning. I almost considered not turning up.

On Monday, Peter, who had been off on Friday came down to see me. There was a touch of frostyness between Peter and Neil. Peter asked Neil what he'd shown me on Friday. He replied that I'd spent the day in the pub with Larry. Peter asked "Why didn't you take him? what were you doing". Neil replied that he'd had to sort out some TA business. Peter said "Well make sure you show him today". Sadly Neil wasn't particularly interested. After a couple of days, I had a word with Larry and asked what I should be doing. Larry got one of the other guys to explain. At the end of the week, Neil departed. I was on my own. The firm had a maintenance man called Ted, who had a small office (more like a broom cupboard) at the bottom of the building. We'd have a lengthy tea break every day. I was told I had to do Teds job when he wasn't around. My other job was to "keep Larrys team happy". Larry was very laid back, the team went for a curry every Friday and beers 2-3 nights a week. I soon got the hang of the jobs Larrys team needed. After about six months, Peter called me up to his office and offered me a beer. "How are you settling in". I said "It's really nice here". Peter said "Everyone is really pleased with how you are doing, use the time wisely to learn as much as you can about Software and the business". I got sent on courses and got to know my way around the systems the company sold. A while after, I was having a beer with Peter when I asked a question that had been bothering me since day 1. I said "Why on earth did you offer me the job, when the other 2 guys knew so much more about computers?" Peter replied that the company were not interested what you did in your bedroom. They wanted people who were intelligent and could work as a team. I then asked about what he thought of me getting bladdered with Larry on the first day. He replied that Larrys team was one of the best and that Larry had wanted to make sure I fitted in with everyone. He said I'd passed with flying colours He explained that Larrys team often had to deliver projects in difficult conditions under pressure. He had built a team where people supported each other and got the work done.

Up until that conversation, I'd not really understood anything about how the world really worked or how important being part of a team was. I realised that in Larrys team, everyone looked forward to going to work and even team meetings were fun. Everyone pulled in the same direction and people worked extremely hard and played hard. All they expected me to do was to do my job as well as I possibly could and help everyone else do their job. We all got on with it and got on with each other. Much to my amazement, I found that I had a position of responsibilty in a great firm. I was getting great money and they were flexible about my taking days off with the band. If I had gigs on Friday and Saturday, I'd just go in on Sunday and catch up. at the time I didn't know I was dyslexic. What I did know was that for the first time in my life, I was being judged on what I was capable of doing, not what I was incapable of doing. Can you imagine how it felt? Through my association with the company, I worked on some really high profile projects. I was even invited to a party to celebrate the opening of the Thames Barrier. Much to my parents amazement, within a couple of years, I'd gone from being a deadbeat layabout to someone who they were proud of.

Shortly before my Father had a heart attack and died in January1987, we went for a beer and a game of snooker at Mill Hill Services club. It was the last time we ever met. We had a great evening. At the end of it, we came home and had a few Scotches. He told me that he'd been scared to death that I'd never get a job, never settle down and never do anything with my life. He said that I used to wind up him up so much with my attitude and behaviour that he found it hard to even speak to me. He said he couldn't figure out how I could have changed so much in such a short time. I confessed that I really didn't know the answer, but that it was probably something to do with not worrying about what people thought of me so much.

I guess that was the first time I really believed that things would work out Ok for me.

The Friday Joke - 7/2/2014

Jeff gets a call from his best friend Joe to meet him at his new house for lunch. Jeff turns up at the address and is amazed to see a huge mansion. He arrives to see an immaculate, brand new Jag on the drive. When he rings the door, the most beautiful woman he's ever seen ushers him in. Joe is sitting in the largest room Jeff has ever seen in a private house. Jeff is gobsmacked, he asked "How did you get all this?" he asked, as Joe had never previously had two pennies to rub together. Joe says "I'll tell you, but before I do, have a drop of this". Joe opens a bottle of Scotch and pours Jeff a large glass. Jeff drinks it and it is the best scotch he's ever tasted. Jeff says "That is lovely what is it?". Joe replies it is a Glengrommit. It is the rarest scotch in the world, that is the last bottle!

Jeff says "and who is the beautiful blond?" Joe replied "That's my new wife, she's Miss Universe". Jeff is gobsmacked. He asks "WTF is going on?" Joe replies "Well I was in the Bald faced Stag in Burnt Oak having a pint, when this dude rocks up and says he's the devil. He says if I sell him my soul, I can have three wishes. So I say, I tell you what, you give me the three wishes and you can have it. So I was a bit skeptical, so I say "Can I have a bottle of Glenrommit" And he says sure, and this appears, so I say "and I want Miss Universe, and he says "sure" and in she walks and says "Hi Joe, can we get married" and so I say I want to become a millionaire, so he says "go over the road and buy a Eurolottery ticket and I'll be around with the contract tomorrow after you've won". So I say thanks and buy the ticket. I then checked into the Travelodge and waited for the draw, with young Tammy here, sure enough I won". So Jeff said "and what about selling your soul". So Joe says, "yep, next morning old Lucifer rocks up with the contract and I sign on the dotted line". Jeff is shocked and says "But what about the rest of eternity being tormented in the fires of hell?" Joe says "Oh, don't be stupid, you know I'm an atheist and don't believe in all that nonsense!".

Hypocrisy on the tube

I am disgusted by the attitude of both Bob Crowe and Boris Johnson to ordinary Londoners over the current tube strikes. Without us, neither would earn their six figure salary. They show us no respect, doubtless because they both claim taxis on expenses. Today I was unabled to attend the Passage, to make breakfast for Londons Homeless because of this ridiculously badly managed dispute. Needless to say neither Bob or Boris slept rough ir missed breakfast today. Ultimately the dispute will be resolved. Why cant this be done without making life miserable for the rest of us. It is not as if the tube is free.

Gig of the year - Rog T, Helen Michael & Brian Coleman at Question Time at Friern Barnet Library

I kid you not. A unique opportunity to see three of Barnets biggest gobs all on one bill. All to raise money for Friern Barnet Library - Full details ANY QUESTIONS? panel at the library at 7.30pm on Friday 21 March 2014.

Come along, it will be fun. Custard oies will not be allowed in

Vote Tory get UKIP !

Word reaches the Barnet Eye that in the event of a strong UKIP showing in couuncil elections in May up to seven councillors are likely to defect to UKIP and form a group. Seven is apparently the magic number where they will get our cash for a political assistant. We understand that the figures are currently rather marginal and see this as the only way to get proomotion. We also understand that UKIP are unlikely to run candidates in there wards. Yet another headache for Richard C.

Fashion is violence

What would you do if you saw someone attack someone in the street and hurt them? Would you ignore the incident? Would you get your mobile phone out and post the incident on the internet, so that all of your friends could get some entertainment, watching another human being suffer? Or would you speak out and try and stop the crime? What about if you were to see a whole industry dedicated to hurting people, destroying peoples self esteem and making people unhappy? Would you glory in that industry and elevate the stars of it onto pedestals as icons to be emulated? As I read the papers, the answer can only be "Yes".

I am talking about the fashion industry. The more I analyse what this industry stands for, the more I have come to loath it. How do you get on in the fashion industry as a model? Well first, you have to be born with a particular look. Then you have to lead a near anorexic lifestyle. You are valued for your ability to look good in celluloid, but you have no value at all as an individual. And what are those celluloid images used to promote? Products often made in sweatshop conditions in the third world. There is no compassion in fashion. It is a brutal industry. The stars of it are used and then spat out, for every Kate Moss, who seems to have transcended the usual spiritless existence, there are hundreds, if not thousands of wannabees, starving themselves to death, living on the fringes of the industry, waiting for the big break.

And what about the market they sell to? In Mill Hill we have two world centres of excellence for treatment of anorexia. Both Rhiodes Farm and Ellen Mede are full to bursting with teenage girls driven to deaths door by the desire to be thin. Where did they get the idea that "skinny is good"? It is pretty clear to me that when every newspaper, magazine and TV show promotes the idea that "Fat is Bad" the kids haven't really got a chance. How can parents, doctors and psychologists try and convince them, when they are bombarded with images of "beauty" which show emaciated young women?

Now I have no issue at all with anyone wishing to look nice. I don't object to people buying good quality clothes and being attractive. What I do object to is the fact that in the fashion industry there really is only one size. Every so often we get a Sophie Dahl, who is a token to the more normal shape, but this is just a fig leaf for a truly revolting industry. The thing I don't really get is the whole purpose of clothes is to cover us up, to hide our imperfections. They should help us deal with our insecurities, not feed them. Why on earth is it acceptable for the fashion industy to simply see women as coathangers with fat wallets? The thing which puzzles me most is the fact that this horrible industry doesn't feed the fantasies of men, it feeds on the insecurities of women. I don't think I know any man who finds the anorexic look atrtactive or sexy. Few men I know enjoy looking at figures of emaciated fashion models. I was pondering on why we tolerate this revolting industry and the only conclusion I could reach is that we are all so brainwashed that we don't even realise it. I think the first step to counteracting it is to wake up and realise just how horrible the whole thing is.

A brick and a kick in the nuts for the people who care for the disabled in Barnet

'A martial arts instructor once told me "you can know all the disciplines, all the forms but a half-brick at ten paces followed by a kick in the nuts tends to win most times" ' - This comment was left on my studio business facebook page yesterday.

I was reminded of an email I was sent about the current situation at Your Choice Barnet. To quote the email

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Your Choice Barnet (YCB) Propose a10% Wage Cut For All! In a meeting today this is what the unions were told was the leading suggestion for YCB to remain financially viable. Unions were told that the restructuring and docking of enhancements for YCB staff had already provided YCB with approx£1million savings last year. Some staff have seen their pay reduce by around 20% al­ready.

However, in spite of being told last year that a cut to the costs of YCB of £1million was needed and has been achieved, unions are now to un­derstand that YCB must cut its costs by another£400K and this can be done by everyone taking a 10% wage cut.

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So the first question I asked was whether the salary cuts applied to senior management. I was rather shocked to find that the answer is apparently "No it doesn't". No unllike some, I don't subscribe to a viewpoint where staff terms and conditions can never be cut, regardless of the economic situation. Sometimes a cut is the only way to keep a company afloat. I've run a business for coming up to 35 years. Sometimes I've taken nothing out of the business for months on end, when the circumstances warrant it. I've done second jobs and sometimes even third jobs. I've always tried to keep the effects of my decisions for the business (I am the boss, so I take responsibility) away from the staff. When pay has had to be affected, they know that I am suffering too. We are all in it together and so we work to see out the bad times. 

It seems that in Your Choice Barnet, the senior management take a different view. They have protected their terms and conditions. Who has taken the blame for the massive shortfall in funds? I can't find anything anywhere which says who made the cock up when the YCB business case was put together. All I know is that the people taking the brunt of the financial hardship are not the ones facing a cut.

These wage cuts are being enacted to fund a policy in Barnet where Council taxes are being cut by 1p. The leader of the Council stated on national TV that the cut is purely symbolic and he accepts the savings will not materially affect anyones standard of living. That is apart from the care workers helping the disabled of Barnet to try and achieve a decent quality of life and the people they look after, who will find that it is impossible to find decent people to provide the care they deserve on such poor wages. A parent of one of the people reliant on YCB Barnet for care emailed me with the following comment about the situation

"I do not for one second believe the people of Barnet would accept is is either justifiable or acceptable to agree to a 1 p per week tax cut, that will lead to perhaps a wage cut of up to £30 per week for people at the coalface of caring for the disabled,  already low paid workers who protect and care for the most vulnerable folks in our community. Which will undermine their sense of worth and commitment to their task, and in turn the quality of life of those they care for."

The quote at the start of this blog reminded me of what seems to be the election tactics of the Barnet Conservatives. They are not interested in learning the arguments, they know that the equivalent of a brick and a kick in the nuts is far more effective when dealing with your opponents at elections. That is exactly what this tax cut will feel like to the disabled of Barnet and those that care for them. When we talk about cuts in social care, there are always losers. The losers are always the most vulnerable, those with no voice and no one to speak up for them. That is why they are always the first to get mugged when the tap runs dry. 

Rog T's Cancer Blog - The waiting begins - Another PSA test

For those of you who are regular readers and have read the previous posts on Cancer, you can skip this first paragraph.This is the latest installment in my occasional series about how I'm adjusting to living with a big C in my life.  For those of you who aren't, here's a quick summary. I'm 51 years old and in October 2011 I  had a prostate biopsy following two "slightly high" PSA tests - 2.8 & 4.1. The biopsy took ten tissue samples and one of these showed a "low grade cancer" which gives me a 3+3 on the Gleason scale. I'm now on a program of active monitoring.  In early February, I got the results of the a PSA test - down to 3.5 and an MRI scan which found absolutely nothing, two more tests in 2012 were at 3.5 and 3.9. My latest PSA test in August was not quite so promising,  back up to 4.0, in other words the downward trend has stopped. I've no symptoms and sadly for a few people, if I'm gonna die soon, it won't be from Prostate cancer. Got the picture? 

So the next time I write this, I will have to change the preamble. On Thursday I had my regular PSA test. My last one in August was 4.0. Will it have gone up or down? Who knows. This period is always mildly stressfull. What if it has gone up to 13? What if all of a sudden the strategy isn't "active surveillance" but actively chopping bits of me off? I was discussing the way the medical profession treat victims of Prostate Cancer. He had a radical prostatectomy and recalls the moment when a doctor informed him that he'd probably had sex with his wife for the last time. Now for my friend, this was a life changing effect.But it was delivered as if it was about as important as a car mechanic informing you that the car needs a new tyre. He also told me that after a recent consultation the doctor informed him "Some women don't like this treatment". When he quizzed the doctor as to why women don't like the treatment, it was "because their hair falls out". He was livid. Why should a man be any less stressed by becoming bald than a woman. My friend is 70 and has a fine head of hair. It is one of the few vestiges left of his rock and roll youth.

So if my PSA is 13 and I need a radical prostate removal urgently, I face the three deadly I's. Incontinence, Impotence and Infertility. Studies show that following such treatment a significant number of people become depressed, and I may go bald into the bargain. Or I could say "F*ck that" and face a situation where my body gets overrun with cancer and I die. What would be fairer to my wife, to live with a nappy wearing, bald lump of lard, who is physically incapable of performing his marital duties. I'm a miserable, grumpy, obnoxious sod at the best of time for Mrs T (the wife not the blogger or Prime Minister), I can't imagine how awful I'd be if I had no release at all for my tensions. Being a fat, bald, incontinent, impotent, infertile depressive was never something I have aspired to. So this week or so, whilst I wait for the good news, is always one which I loath.

To try and avoid the fate I outlined above, I try and follow an "anti cancer diet". Whether this has contributed to the relative stability thus far of my PSA level, I have no idea. I do however believe it has. if nothing else, it makes me feel like I am doing something. That is better than just sitting around waiting for bad news.  Every week, if you believe the Daily Express, there are promising new breakthroughs in the field of cancer treatment. Sadly at the same time, I've seen a stack of people die of the awful disease in the last couple of years. What we all want is a magic pill that cures all varieties of the disease. Sadly what seems to happen is there are specific new treatments, for specific types of the diease at specific stages. This week, there was also a report that Google had bought the services of genius from Muswell Hill, for £400 million. This bloke is apparently developing a google app which will cure all cancers forever. If our friend from Muswell Hill manages to pull this off, then I reckon £400 million is cheap.

As I pondered this, I considered the best understood common cause of cancer. I am talking about smoking. if you want to massively reduce the odds of getting cancer, avoid tobacco. I then considered the stupidity of the tobacco companies. Just suppose that when smoking was first identified as the cause of cancer, they'd stated that they would give 25% of their profits towards setting up centres of medical excellence to develop cures for cancer. This would have given governments a massive problem. If they clamped down on smoking, they would have severely damaged the chances of finding a cure for the disease. Had they done this back in the 1950's I have no doubt that we'd not have smoking bans and tobacco companies would have far greater profits. Who knows, with all of those billions of pounds in cash, we'd probably also have had a cure for cancer.

Another interesting thought which occurred is this. If this genius succeeds and we get a google app for our mobile phones which cures cancer, just think of the effects. Whole swathes of the NHS will have to be changed from cancer wards into geriatric wards, as we all die of old age instead of cancer. Charities such as MacMillan and Cancer Research UK will have to close down and whole teams of experts who have dedicated their lives to finding cures will be down to the Jobcentre, looking for new careers as bus drivers or night club bouncers.

Many years ago, when I was a small boy, I asked my Dad what he thought the world would be like in the year 2000, which then seemed a long way off. He told me a story about his Dad who was an engineer who used to drill artesian wells in the outback of Australia. One rich landowner was also a geologist. He engaged my grandfather to drill for oil. Within the space of a couple of months, a huge oilfield had been identified. The landowner got in touch with a large American oil company, who bought the rights to the oilfield, for a massive amount. They then closed off the pipe and shut down the oilfield. My grandfather was puzzled. The landowner explained that the company made their money importing oil from the US. As a result Australia was dependent on the US. If word got out that there was oil in Australia, it would damage their business, so it was massively in their interests to sit on the site and keep schtum. My Dad said that the reason that the future was never as good as we expect was because anything which is for the universal good of humanity is generally going to disadvantage the people at the very top, who control the money and the power. As a result, anything which really is good for us will shut down billions of pounds worth of existing business. That is why we've not seen a cure for the cold. I couldn't help wondering what the big pharm companies would do if google really did come up with a  cancer killing app. Just think of all the expensive treatments which would become obsolete? My Dad was of the opinion that all manner of inventions, ones which made cars more efficient, new cures for diseases, safety devices, etc had been snapped up by companies seeking to protect their exisiting product base. I don't believe he was wrong.

Mind you, knowing the reliability of google products, you'd probably find that you'd get half way through getting cured and you'd get an annoying pop up offering you sex with horny grandma's and the App would crash, leaving you to your fate.

Have a great Sunday, enjoy the sunshine! I am off to take my doggies for a walk and enjoy the beautiful green belt in Mill Hill.

The Saturday list #53 - The ten biggest cock ups in Barnet

I was pondering what have been the most stupid decisions made in Barnet. What decisions have been made, which we can now look at and say "hey, that was a cockup on a monumental scale". This week, the plans to "redevelop" Brent Cross were passed by Barnet Council. Only time will tell whether this was the biggest cockup in the history of Barnet. We have also seen the announcement of closure of Age UK day centres and the redevelopment of Pavillion Way playing fields passed. Is this the blackest week in the history of Barnet? In years to come, will these decisions make the list?

Here is my current list.

1. Closing the railway between Mill Hill East and Edgware. Of all the cockups, I believe  this to be the worst. Had our lords and masters been a little less short sighted, link between the Edgware and Barnet branches of the Northern line would have been finished and we'd have a useful way of getting across the Borough. There would have been an interchange between the Northern Line at Mill Hill Broadway and a station at the Saracens Rugby stadium. This would have made match day traffic far less of an issue. It would make getting across the Borough by public transport far easier. Sadly the powers that be put the M1 in the way and have allowed building of houses on some of the track. I still think the line should be extended to Copthall. The line closed in the 1960's to freight and to passengers in 1939.

2. Closure of Church Farmhouse museum. This attack on our history by the current Tory administration is a scandal and a disgrace. I believe closing museums to be on a par with burning books. How can we appreciate what we've got if we don't know about our past. Do the local Tories believe that the history of Barnet is so boring that it isn't worth preserving? If they are, they are philistines who are completely clueless.

3. Closure of Totteridge Library. I believe all libraries are precious. The current leader of Barnet Council, Richard Cornelius first became a councillor on the back of a campaign to retain Totteridge Library. What sort of people want to close libraries? They are either extremely ignorant or they believe the rest of us should be kept in the dark.

4. Closure of Edgware General Hospital. This was a tragic mistake. The whole of the western side of the Borough has been without an A&E and without any sensible method of getting to Barnet General by Public Transport. To the Tory masters who made the decision, the problems for pensioners without cars is never a consideration.

5. Closure of Mill Hill Swimming Pool. Another criminal act by a former Tory administration. This was a beautiful public asset. It had fountains, a slide, a paddling pool and a large grassy area where as a kid I would play and relax on hot sunny days. It was set up after a generous bequest, as a gift to the people of Mill Hill, in perpetuity. Sadly the Tory administration at the time thought a Garden centre was something kids and teenagers needed more, and took the cash. It is now Etz Chaim free school.

6. Closure of the Torrington as a music venue. The Torrington was a classic Pub venue. It was a popular venue and well used. Sadly the owners at the time didn't give a stuff about the Rock and Roll history of the Borough and deprived us of yet another pub music venue.

7. Closure of Mill Hill Sports Club. Yet more fields closed, yet more sports facilities shut. Yet more amenities lost. I have no argument that a school was needed in the area, but they did not have to destroy such an important local facility.

8. Closure of St Josephs college, Mill Hill. This was a Roman Catholic Missionary Training College. It is now being redeveloped as luxury flats for the rich. The developers took it on solely to turn a quick profit. The site was designated "for educational use". Barnet Council used the lack of suitable sites as the reason for destroying the Mill Hill Sports club. They had a school site in Mill Hill, but rather than insisting that the site was used for its correct designation, they allowed a change of use. As a result, other community assets have been lost. The site should have been used as a school/college with cheap accommodation for local students.

9. The Mill Pub. Just one of the dozens of pubs in the Borough which have been destroyed by property developers for a quick buck. It could be any of them, but I was particularly fond of this one, because it was a venue for the Mill Hill Music Festival. It had a large, beautiful garden. Any pub with a garden is now a "target for redevelopment". We need an urgent change to our planning laws, which will protect these.

10. The North Circular Road. This is a nightmare. It is a death trap for cyclists, a nightmare for drivers and an impassable barrier for pedestrians for much of its route through Barnet. Ask any local politician what can be done and they will either bury their heads in their hands or blame someone else. It is a marvellous example of the quality of leadership we've had in the Borough.

This is my list. What have I missed? What should make the top ten?