Sometimes, I despair, I really do. My mother once informed me that "No good deed ever goes unpunished". This is a saying that has bit me on the bum many a time. Yesterday is one of those occasions. You do something which is quite clearly a good turn. The person thanks you at the time. A month later, they are seeking a financial advantage in an unforeseen (by me) situation, and it gets re-invented as a terrible thing. I'd love to share the details, however it would be wholly inappropriate. In this particular case, it is something that is pretty trivial (unless I am missing something), which makes it all even more annoying. It is not the first time. I doubt it will be the last. In business, I've almost lost count of the times I've tried to help a colleague, associate, customer, only to find that not only is it unappreciated, it is actually a source of resentment and hostility for them.
The human brain is a strange thing indeed. If you give someone a discount to try and help them, their assumption is that previously you were trying to fleece them and the discount is proof. If you give them career advice, as you can see they are making basic mistakes when seeking promotions, new jobs, if they succeed using your advice, they then tell everyone "I'm glad I didn't listen to him" even though they clearly did. When you make business introductions to help people forward their career, you find they try and cut you out.
Normally, I sail through such things. You learn and you move on. Today my sciatica in my back is driving me mad, so it is really annoying me. As sciatica is caused by nerve related issues, for me, it affects the wiring in my head and makes me want to kill people (not literally). So today it bugs me.
I'm off to mass in a minute at The Sacred Heart Catholic Church in Mill Hill. The church is implacably opposed to assisted dying. It is fair to say that its stance does not reflect my opinions. It is my opinion that if a compos mentis and they are in excruciating pain, with only the prospect of it getting worse, I would have no isssue with them deciding the time and the place of their departure from this mortal coil, surrounded by their friends and family. I get all of the arguments abouts safeguards and I know that there are all manner of complex issues, but I do believe that in the case of someone like Esther Rantzen who had clearly decided the path she wanted, it is not the business of the state or the law to prevent this happening in the most pleasant way possible for her. Do I believe that a just and compassionate God would send her and her to Hell? I cannot possibly reconcile that with my personal views of faith. I get all of the arguments about "bumping off inconvenient individuals", but where a medically diagnosed progressive terminal illness is diagnosed, for me the matter is one of compassion.
Why am I writing this. Well there is some very disturbing news in my close family. A day I have been dreading for a very long time seems to be looming. I will have a very important decision to make and I suspect it may be in the next couple of days. It is one that I have deep sorrow in making, but I also believe that if pain and suffering cannot be addressed and it will only get worse, then the most humane thing for everyone is to have a dignified end. Our beloved dog Bruno is fifteen years old. We've had him since 2012 and he is a superstar. But he has become almost lame, lost control of his bowels and is off his food. He hasn't wagged his tail for a couple of weeks. He doesn't sleep at night, waking up panting and getting agitated. We have tried various things from the vet and nothing works. He has had uncontrollable diarrhoea (which as a dyslexic is a word I cannot even spell). Over the last week it has rapidly gone down hill. He does not seem to be enjoying life at all. Initially we thought it was a stomach bug, but it has gone on for four days and there seems no improvement, despite medication.
Sadly, it seems that a phone call to the vet is imminent. There will be tears and it will be a terrible day. But such decision have to be made. We will of course take the vets advice. But it has brought home to me the truth that such decisions are almost impossible. I think people who care probably make them a long time after they really should. As regular readers know, cancer has been part of my life since 2011. I have given the matter a lot of thought. What would I personally do, and I don't know. I think I'd want to hang on until the last possible moment. But is that fair on the family? In 2012, I watched a friend die of oesophageal cancer. He fought until the last moment. It was horrific for all of us. I am 99% sure that the opiates that he was given to alleviate the pain was what ended his life, not the cancer. What was shocking was just how hard he fought. Three times in the last few hours, we thought he'd gone, then he'd rally. He finally left, when everyone left the room for a quick cigarette break. It was almost as if he didn't want anyone to see him depart. My sister, who is a retired hospice nurse told me that this is quite common. Does the Grim Reaper wait around the corner for a clear run?
I believe that dogs have a semi spiritual role in our lives, to make us better people and teach us lessons. The current lesson we are being taught is brutal, but it is a good thing in the bigger picture. No lesson in life comes without a price to pay. Dogs have about one seventh of the lifespan of a human, so if we look after them properly, we might have seven or eight in our journey. In mine, I've had five. We had a puppy called Christine, who lasted a matter of weeks before she ran in the road and got run over. It was horrible. Then we had a Beagle called Bruce. He was a wonderful dog. He'd been dumped in Mill Hill Park and ended up in our house. When my parents went to Australia in 1981 and I went to Sweden, we asked our neighbours to look after him. They had two small girls. When we all returned, they asked if the could keep him as the girls loved him. Much to my annoyance, my parents agreed. As I moved out shortly after, it was clearly the right decision. I still saw him. We then got Tilly the Boxer in 2004, when our cat died. She was a reaal character. I love Boxers, they are great fun. We got Bruno in 2012, as we wanted a dog to keep Tilly company. Bruno was a rescue dog, completely bonkers. He drove Tilly mad. he was twice her size,a fox red labrador/ rotweiller cross. He'd been badly treated so has always been very unpredictable. But he is also the best fun and the silliest dog ever. Much to our surprise, he has reached fifteen. He has always had a dickie stomach, but always seems happy. When Tilly died in 2017, we got Keira. She is another rescue dog. A white German Shepherd. She is the lovliest dog, but is also the most nervous and territorial. She is extremely scared of men and to this day will not approach me, except when we are walking, when she becomes the perfect dog and my best friend.
All of our dogs apart from Tilly have had difficult starts and there behaviour reflects this. I have a very low opinion of people who mistreat animals. If people don't like animals and don't keep them, that is fine, but people who abuse them disgust me. I nearly punched someone at the gym, after I heard them saying they were looking to rehome a 4 year old labradoodle, and would put it down if they couldn't, as they wanted a puppy for their children. It was a moment when I realised the anger management had paid off. I think the person is one of the most disgusting individuals I've ever seen. I avoid him like the plague when I see him, as I don't want to get triggered and do something stupid. For me, putiing an animal down is a last resort. A moment when something you love has reached a point where it is more cruel to let them carry on suffering.
In such moments as this, I pray for guidance, to do the right thing and to see the right path. Generally when such moments come along, I think I do the right thing. I can sleep at night.
Do you ever have moments in your life where everything changes, where the door that had been holding you back in life opens and you move to a new chapter? I am of the opinion that our society is deliberately designed to divorce us from our true self. Our consumer society is designed to distract us from the things that should really matter. How many times are we too busy staring at our phones to see the beautiful sunset above our heads. I was considering the issue of spiritual awakening and realising that there is something deeper and more important that we should be focussing on. I am not talking about Jesus appearing and suddenly we become a Holy Joe, quite the opposite. I think that often organised religion is one of the biggest problems, because it puts us off finding the deeper meanings in things. I personally do believe it has a place in society, as it provides a focus for ommunity and churches are great spaces. However, I have never actually had any sort of spiritual awakening in a church or at a church service.
I have, however, had moments. These are those moments.
1. Walking around Cornwall in November 1984. I'd just split up with my then girfriend and I needed some headspace. I decided to take a couple of weeks off work and walk around the Cornish coast. There were no toursits around. The weather was cold and crisp. I didn't tell anyone what I was doing or where I was going. I didn't really know myself. I just facied walking around the Cornish coast. There was one moment, when I'd pitched my tent in a farmers field and walked up to the top of the cliffs to watch the sunset, that I sat there. It was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. I was totally at peace with everything. I just enjoyed the silence. When the sun finally set, the stars and the moon were spectacular. It was probably the most beautiful moment of my life. I can remember thinking that although I was a very small part of creation, I was the only person in the Universe who had witnessed that amazing moment. I think this was perhaps the first, maybe the only time in my life that I'd felt completely at peace with the Universe. Then I realised I was cold, hungry and I went to the pub and it was gone. I had no idea of the storm that was brwing for me personally.
2. On a train to a mates birthday party in Surrey in early Spring 1985. I was at a rea low. I had split up with my long term gilfriend, all my fault really. My health had been awful following a serious stomach bleed. The band had split up and I was totally bereft. It was one of the old style trains, the ones where you could open the door whenever you wanted. I decided to look out of the window and I saw a train hurtling towards us on the other track. I thought to myself "I could open the door, jump in front of it and in a second it would all be over". It seemed a very attractive thought. I am not given to such negative thoughts, but I was in a bad place. It seemed like the perfect solution to everything. For a second I was going to do it. Then I thought "What about the bloke driving the other train?" I realised what a terrible experience it would be for him. I thought of all of the people on the train, off for a night out in London. All would have their evening ruined. I thought "Do I really want my final action to be one of devastating selfishness?" I realised that this was not really me. It pulled me back from the edge. I sat back down and started to focus on the the solutions to my problems. By the time I arrived at my friends party, I was in a better place.
3. A yoga class in 1987 in Flower Lane. After my health issues in 1984, I started doing yoga to try and rebuild my health. There was an amazing class in Flower Lane, lead by the redoubtable Joyce, who was a real inspiration. I just did it as a gentle exercise class when I started, to try and rebuild my fitness gently following my healath issues. Joyce was possibly the most spititual person I've ever met. The class was about an hour and a half. We'd do a 10 minute relaxation at the start, an hour of yoga exercises, then a 20 minute meditation at the end. When I started the class in 1985, I dismissed the meditation completely. As time went on, I started to appreciate it. Following the death of my father in 1987, I was devastated. I simply couldn't get my head around it. In 1988, Joyce announced at the start of the class that we should all think of something that was troubling us and when we did the meditation, we'd address that. I immediately realised that it was my Dads death. After the exercise bit finished, we lay down, she dimmed the lights and explained that all problems could be solved, you just needed to free your inner spirit to allow it to guide you. I wanted to know what had happened with my Dad. So as we sank into the medetitive state, through breathing exercises. I wanted to see my father and understand why he had to go. I found myself in the most beautiful garden I could possibly imagine and my Dad was their, fit, young and healthy, with members of his family who had passed. He was delighted to see me. He said "Rog its great to see you". I was totally overcome with joy. Then he said "You shouldn't be here, it's not your time. With that, I was back in the class, but I was completely at peace. From that moment, I knew things will always be alright.
4. Getting run over in 1988 at Burnt Oak. I got hit by a car crossing Burnt Oak Broadway. The driver was doing 40mph and jumoping the lights. I still bear the physical scars. When I saw the car hurtling towards me, I knew I was going to die. There was no way to get out of the way, no where to go. But I felt totally at peace. I realised that I had no fear of death or dying at all. It is just part of the natural cycle of things. But then, a little voice in my head said "Jump", so I did. The bonnet of the car crashed into my thigh, my feet went through the windscreen, I rolled over the roof and then fell on my head. I have never felt such pain, but I was alive. I was pleased to be alive. I have never worried about death since.
5. April 2020 Lockdown. I decided that this was the perfect time to "finish my book". I had been writing it for two years. I started to read through it. I started to get very angry. All of the betrayals, all of the people who'd let me down. All of the people who'd used and exploited me. There was nowhere to go and no way to escape the clautrophobic environment and no outlet to release the anger that was building. I took the dogs for our 1 hours exercise around Darlands Lake. I was very deep in introsective thought and then I realised "It's all done, it all worked out OK, they didn't win, they didn't destroy me". I realised that I was OK, I'd done OK. I'm not perfect, far from it. I don't have all the answers, maybe I don't have any of them. But I am not going to be defined by anger driven by other people who clearly have some sort of agenda. It is easy to forget this, but it is true.
To sum up there were five real aspects, maybe there will be more. But for me, spritual awakening is recognising the beauty in the universe, that is the for all of us for free, realising that self destructive behaviour affects other people and is not the fix for your problems, realise that there is more out there and sometimes you need the right person to help you find it, that in the worst moments you can find peace and enlightenment and finally that letting other peoples anger define you simply holds you back.
I am blessed and lucky. I have good things in life. The most important thing is to appreciate them. Nothing lasts forever. I was inspired to write this, as I was woken up by our inconsiderate next door neighbours builders at 7am. There was a terrible crashing and banging. I looked out of the window and saw this. It reminded me that sometimes, God/The Universe/Random stuff (delete as you please) is trying to get your attention, when annoying stuff happens.
So I see Andy Burnham has advised us all to 'stock up for an emegency' and have 'at least three days food and some cash' handy. I did some googling and it has been suggested that figures of between £60 - £100 per day per person. All across Europe similar advice is being given. I think having a bit of cash is not a bad idea, I always try and have some in my wallet. Back in the days when I did IT Consultancy, I did some work, for a very brief period for the FDA, for a company that had a contract with them. It was in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. One of the biggest problems was that people all congregated on the football stadium and services got overwhelmed. It was suggested that it would have been far more cost effective to give everyone $1,000 dollars in cash, so they could get out of the disaster area. This stuck with me. I am quite frankly appalled at the complete failure of the UK government to actually give us any proper advice at all.
Having large amounts of cash and a big stoc of food is not necessarily the best way to survive a disaster. There are all manner of not very nice people who night just decide to help themselves. Although I am no fan of open access to firearms, the US mentality is far better suited to Armagheddon than the British. What would we all do if we can't boil the kettle for a cup of tea. Whilst there is a mindset in the US that fantasises about being hold up, eating corned beef with assaukt rifles, the British would prefer to sit at home, drink tea and wait for things to return to normal.
My mother told me that the most surprising thing about the second world war was not that the British survived, but that people did everything possible to not let the blitz and the privations affect their normal life. When there was an air raid, as soon as the all clear went, if your house was still there, you went home and had a cup of tea. When rationing was at its height, people would try and have one day a week, where things were as normal as they could be.
We are being advised to stockpile bottled water and tinned food. This is presumably because government disaster planners think we'll lose access to safe water and cooking facilities. They are not advising those of us with gardens to stock up on charcoal for barbecues and beer. To me, this seems far more sensible. when covid struck, I spent most of lockdown in the garden, drinking beer and having barbecues in the sunshine. Do you recall what the first shortage was? It was toilet rolls, but Burnham seems to have forgotten. The government has rushed headlong into decommissioning of analogue TV and Radio, which are far moreresilient to cyber attack than digital ones. We should also be stocking up on batteries and torches.
But all joking aside, does anyone really believe that any of this is about cyber attack or bad weather. If it was, all they have to do is legally require shops to have resilience plans in place to take cash and distribute products. What no one wants to say is that we seem to be lurching into WW3. If you are a survivalist in Montana, that would be you big moment. If you live in Mill Hill, not so. I am not sure if MilL Hill would survive a nuclear atatck on central London. I'm not even sure I'd want to. If I did, I'd much rather have 20 bottle of whisky than 20 tins of sardines.
I always believed that the world was ultimately run by sane, rational people, who would never by so insane as to start a nuclear war. Now I am not so sure. I do not believe the Russians would. I am not so sure about Trump and his cronies. Someone asked me if I thought Trump was a Russian agent this week. I said "I hope so, because if he is, he won't lose his rag and start nuking them". But I honestly do not know.
One of the interesting things is that it was suggested that we have 'enough food for 3 days'.My first thought was "We probably keep enough food for a week without even trying", although a few bottles of water wouldn't go amiss.
Anyway, I gave this some thought and this is what I think you'd be advised to have in the house
1. A weeks supply of water.
2. Two weeks supply of bog rolls.
3. Two weeks supply of wet wipes, deodourant, etc
4. Two weeks supply of alcohol.
5. Enough choocolate and biscuits to keep youself stuffed for a week.
5/ Any tinned foods that you actually enjoy eating cold/
6. Some good books.
And if it is a nuclear attack and you survive, I'd do all the scotch in one go, as I suspect that will be a quicker and more pleasant end than one where there are no hospital services working and you are succumbing to radiation sickness.
Ever since day 1 of the False Dots, I've been on a mission to have the perfect band. This doesn't mean I wanted Jimi Hendrix, Debbie Harry, Keith Moon et all in the band. I wanted the perfect band to play the noise that was going around my head. That is a very different thing. When we started, it was very much a case of simply getting anyone we could to get going. In a strange sort of way, that was the perfect band for where we were. It meant we could develop our ideas of what a band should be and find our own direction, without someone who "knew the ropes" corralling us in a direction we didn't want to go, before we actually knew what we wanted.
It took over a year to get to the point where I felt we were sort of ready to be unleashed on the world. We got Alan Warner of The Foundations down, as we wanted to record and sought his advice as to whether we were ready. Alan suggested we get a new drummer who could play in time and suggested a mate, Dav Davies. When Dav joined, we suddenly started to sound like the noise in my head. Recording in 1980 was expensive, but we were ambitious. Our first demo was good, but the band started to fracture. Pete, the co founder left, I recruited a new guitarist, Craig and Paul Hircombe moved to bass. Pete then decided he was coming back and so took over on vocals. On the day of our first gig, he didn't bother to show. It was a baptism of fire, but was the best thing that could happen. We felt that having got through that, we could get through anything. A second demo was done, it was a massive step up. However, all it really did was inform me of what we could do. Paul Hircombe got it. Craig didn't, but he'd go along with it.
After our tour of Sweden, we decided that we'd try and get a deal. Paul suggested that we get a female singer and a better drummer. We did. The band sounded amazing, but it really wasn't the sound in my head anyomore. It was sort of a bit like Blondie, but I'd learned a lesson. If you want a specific sound, then you need the right person, not just one who could do the job. The singer departed with Craig and the drummer. I had decided to simplify the sound, strip it back and I met Venessa Sagoe, who was an amazing singer. We got Adam Francis on drums, he was a very metronmic drummer, no frills. Ideal for what I wanted. We then added keyboard player Chris Potts. The band was exactly what I had wanted. They could play anything, Venessa was a brilliant performer. It had taken four years, but we'd got there. I thought we had the perfect mix, but something happened that I hadn't really expected. I found it was getting harder to bring new ideas and songs to the band and get them to be played how I felt they should. We were an amazing band, but as the new members settled in, they wanted more and more of a say over everything. This was not unreasonable, but I felt that not everything they were suggesting was particularly helpful or good. I think the moment when it became difficult was when Chris joined. He was a superb musician, but he had a different vision to me of what a band should be, Neither of us was wrong, but Chris lacked the drive to run a band, but he had lots of things he was not happy with. As he was a great musician, it became harder and harder to argue my case. In hindsight, I realise that before he joined, we had a perfect mix.I thought Chris was the final ingredient, but in truth, it was just a bit too much sugar in the mix. The problem was that Chris was too much of a perfectionist. I am not. Chris would be upset if the band played bum notes at gigs. I didn't care so long as we went down a storm,
What happened was we lost momentum. Because Chris was a perfectionist, everyone started to question everything. Although Chris was technically right that the songs could be better, we'd played a sol out Dingwalls just before he joined and blown the doors off it. The highlight of the set was Action Shock that was just two chords repeated all of the way through. It's secret was that it was simple. It took me a very long time to realise that our secret weapon was always the simplicity. It worked for the Ramones, it worked for us. Whenever we tried to make things more musically complicated or cleverer, it became dull.
The experience with Chris was difficult for me. He was a lovely bloke, did a great job and was absolutely committed to making The False Dots a better band. However it changed the dynamic and although we were musically better, we lost momentum and within six months it had all fallen apart. I must add that at the time Chris joined, we also took on a manager, who did nothing and caused all sorts of issues. It also didn't help that I was sharing a house with Venessa and Bill and I am the worlds worst housemate. By the time we split, they were well and truly sick of me. But creatively, the change of dynamic made it impossible to write and develop songs in the way we had. Since the start of the band, the way we've developed songs has been the same. I'd sketch out some chords and the lyrics and we'd play them through as a band. Once we had a basic structure, we'd work on refining them. Chris thought we should work them our before we played them as a band and get all manner of fancy bits in. Recently, I was given a video of the band playing live at The Bald Faced Stag in Burnt Oak. It was the full set. As we were playing a local pub, there were a few covers, the songs we'd been playing for ages and a couple of the new songs we'd written with Chris. I was struck by the fact that although the songs were more complicated, they lacked the hooks and energy that the older songs had. Perhaps the most interesting thing of all was that I simply had no memory of them at all. I have always believed that the 1984 version of The False Dots was brilliant and should have been signed. I think getting Chris in at the time was the right thing, it was a tragedy we couldn't make it work. Watching the video of Venessa performing only reinforces that. Here is Action Shock with her at the Bald Faced Stag.
Fast forward to 2026. The False Dots are still going. We are now a five piece band. This time last year, we added Derek Treadwell. Derek plays percussion and does backing vocals. It adds a new dimension to the sound. I've always believed that percussion is a secret weapon. A tambourine or wood block can lift a chorus, and having a bit more vocal welly on choruses makes a huge difference. Since I took over main vocal duties from Allen Ashley in 2021, I've become increasingly more aware that it is restricting playing guitar and singing. It is hard to be as expressive as I'd like to be as a singer. I have thought about either getting another guitarist, or getting a bassist and switching Fil back to guitar. However, I am also well aware of the risks of putting too much egg in the pudding.
My advice to any young bands and musicians, who think they need to "develop their sound" by adding extra band members is to ask yourself whether the band has momentum and if you are still finding inspiration. If you are, then be very wary of disrupting it. The False Dots played at Nambucca last week. We played a brand new song called Cut Priced Hedonism. I am rather happy with it! Mind you, it would probably sound better with Chris's keyboards on!
Do you remember June 2000? I do for many reasons. My son was one month old back then. My Mum was still alive, healthy and enjoying life. Manchester City were promoted to the Premier League, having achieved back to back promotions. I was making big plans for my studio with my business partner Ernie Ferebee. I had just started to put The False Dots together after a 10 year break, to "record a few of the old nubers for posterity". I had an extremely lucrative log term IT contract, suppoorting POS systems for Streamline. In short,, life could not have been much better. But little known to me, a mate of mine was about to change the world, literally. I wasn't a blogger. There was no such thing as social media, as we understand it now. But Steve Pankhurst, who I'd been at Orange Hill School with launched Friends Reunited that month. I joined early on. I got in touch with a bunch of old school mates. Oddly, there were lots from Orange Hill, but none from FCHS!
It was wonderful. Within a year, we'd have a reunion. I was a big fan. A few years later, Facebook was launched. Again, I was an early adopter. I saw the potential for band and business promotion as well as keeping up with friends. When Twitter was launched, I thought it was a waste of time. I was eventually persuaded to join in 2011, I think I've regretted it eber since. I soon realised that Twitter offered endless opportunities for Twitter Trolls to spend their life being unpleasant to everyone. For such people, a victory was to force a nice, pleasant, worthy soul to shut their account.
In Barnet, we all laughed at our local ogre, Tory Politician Brian Coleman, as he simply blocked everyone he took a mild dislike to; We thought he lacked gumption. I hate to admit it, but he was probably right. Friends Reunited disappeared. Twitter became X, where hatred is turbocharged. Facebook morphed into something indecribably awful. I still use it, as I still have a band and a business, and occasionally I see something interesting, however 90% of what it serves up is stuff from people I don't know and are not interested in, adverts or on the odd occasion I actually see something from someone I actually like, they are off on one. Oddly, when I actually look at friends accounts, most of what they post is stuff I'd actually like to see, but the algorythm never shows me.
The biggest problem for me is the sheer anger and hatred of much of what people are posting. The venom directed at people like SIr Keir Starmer, Kemi Badenoch, Andy Burnham et all, is to me vile. By all means criticise their policies. I write a blog that critcises the policies of all manner of people, but if I don't know someone, I refrain from personal criticism. Now you may say "You hypocrite what about the bile you poured on local Tories like Brian Coleman on your blog?" This was a central plank of Brian Colemans defence, when I took him to the Barnet Council Standards Committee. Coleman stated that I'd been personally abusive about his private life. Barnet Council paid £10,000 for a lawyer to defend him. He lost.. The reason? Sure I'd criticised him for his spending of public money, the endless gifts in his hospitality register, his behaviour in council, his arrogance towards members of the public, but I'd never actually mentioned his private life. I have to admit, when he assaulted Helen Michael, who is a good friend, I widened my attack, but not on his personal life. I just felt his behaviour was not compatable with being a public servant.
The bile directed on Facebook and Twitter, the AI genereated Memes, the lies people spread, the anger, the hatred are, to me, deplorable. What upsets me most though, is I see keyboard warriors, who are retreating into a hate filled echo chamber where anything goes. Often the claim to be patriots, but to me , good manners and tolerance are a fundamental part of the British/English character. We don't like bullies. We don't do bilious hatred. But Social Media has seemingly made it all OK.
The worst aspect is the sheer futility of screaming in an echo chamber. All your mates agree with you, so you think its OK and you are winning. In truth, you are just damaging your own mental health and losing touch with reality. By all means say if you think Andy Burnham is wrong to seek investment from the owners of Man City or to grant drilling licenses in the North Sea. However a soon as you stray from criticism of policies, and into the personal, you lose the arguement. Shouting the loudest may well make you think you are right, but in truth, it simply means you've lost control of yourself and the argument. I was accused of being 'over educaated' this week. Odd really, I never went to Uni and when I left school and became a painter/decorator for three years. But becasue I stay calm and don't get cross, people seem to think I am "over educated". I'm happy to argue policies with friends. However if they get cross when they lose the argument, I'd suggest that it is all a bit counter productive.
I look back to June 2000. The world was a better place then.
My Dad used to be an air accident investigation officer for the RAF, at the end of the war. At home, we have an old biscuit tin, with copies of pictures of crashes he investigated. I was fascinated by some of the stories Dad told me of crashes. Dad was a superb engineer and advised me that he never investigated a crash where there was a single point of failure. It was always the result of a culmination of events. He told me that flying is the safest form of transport, because every single crash is investigated and the results mean that every crash makes flying safer in future.
He said that it was almost always pretty clear what had happened and why. However, he recalled one crash, where a plane's engine blew up in mid air, resulting in a catastrophic failure of the airframe and the death of all of the crew. The crew were experienced, the maintenance records were spot on. The debris was scattered over a large area, but it was pretty clear that something had fundamentally failed in the engine. Examination of the recovered engine did not indicate a fundamental problem. It was not a new engine, but well within its operational lifetime and was a reliable model. The more Dad looked, the less sense it made. After a couple of days at the base, he'd made no progress. He knew he was missing something, but even though he was experienced, he didnt know what. When he retired to the officers mess for a beer at the end of the day, he noticed something odd. Usually people were more than happy to chat to investigators, especially pilots. They knew that a pilots life was dependent on good procedures and investigations. However no one was that keen to talk to him, apart from the base commander, who sat with him and chatted away merrily. Dad noticed that the other pilots were reacting in an odd manner, when they entered the mess and saw him with the CO. It was not the usual reaction. Dad was a good reader of people and body language. He also noticed that several pilots were having a drink and then leaving the mess. He realised they were not comfortable.
Dad was becoming rather suspicious, so after a few beers, he made his apologies to the CO and said he had an early start. He then went to the gatehouse and asked where the nearest pub was. He was told it was about 200 yards down the road. Dad took a stroll down and was unsurprised to find the pilots, who had left the mess, all having a beer. When Dad entered, they all did a double take. He explained that as an Aussie, he was not really one for drinking with the top brass and as he'd been an operational pilot, he always felt better in the company of aircrew. He bought a round and started regailing them with stories about his crew and his escape from the POW camp. After a while, he was accepted as one of the boys.
Once he had their trust, one of them said "You know this isn't the first crash here, I hope it doesn't get swept under the carpet again". As Dad had suspected, there was an element to this he'd not been told. He didn't tell me what that was, but the crews told him of their suspicions, what to look for and where to look. It became clear that there were serious issues with the way that the engine had been maintained. The CO had been complicit. I am not sure what happened to all involved, but Dad said it was not good.
Dad told me the story when I was quite young. When I was working for BT, I was having issues with my then boss. As he often did, he revisied the story. He explained another aspect to it. He said that the CO of the base sounded like my then boss. The base commander was someone who had favourites and protected them, whereas he was happy to shaft good people, who he didn't like. It turned out that when there had been a previous crash, he scapegoated someone he didn't like. The reason the crews were cautious of this, was because they knew. They were coming to the end of their time in the RAF and they knew he'd cause problems if they said to much.Dad then gave some very sound advice. He said "If there is someone in the department who is not much good, but seems to be doing better than they should, be careful, as these sort or people thrive by having snakes in the grass". Dad also said "Whereever you work, make friends with the tea lady and the cleaners, they are the only people who really know what is going on, and those with arrogance and power ignore them".
That conversation was 40 years ago. It has stood me in good stead. The number of times in my life I have been mystified by situatations, only to find the missing piece of the jigsaw, often from the cleaner or the tea lady. With all of the information, usually it all becomes blindingly obvious. Dad also explained that when shenanigans are going on, it is always for one of three reasons. Money, sex and power. People behave very badly if they get a sniff of any of these. If something doesn't seem right, ask yourself "Is money, sex or power involved?". Sometimes it might even be two or three of them. Once you figure that out, work out who is benifitting and how. It is quite sad really, how often so many horrible situations are created over such unimportant things, but that is life. This weekend, Poppies went on sale at The Mill Hill Services Club. I always think of Dad when I see them. He died nearly 40 years ago, I still miss him. I count mylucky stars to have had such wise council in my life.
There has been a huge amount of discussion about rumours that the Green Belt in the London Borough of Barnet will be bulldozed and developed. I emailed the leader of Barnet Council, Councillor Barry Rawlings to respond.
This is what I asked
Dear all
Please see the attached document. Is this correct and if so, why have residents not been asked to comment.
The plans for Barnet are appalling
Regards
Roger Tichborne
This is the document that I asked Barry to comment on
Dear Roger
Thank you for reaching out to share your concerns around the Draft London Plan published by the Mayor in July and its implications for future developments in Barnet.
I wanted to respond and take the opportunity to share some information regarding the Draft London Plan which I hope helps to reassure you and clarify some of the points raised around new developments in Barnet.
I understand there has been a list of sites circulating on various WhatsApp groups. I cannot find that site list on any meeting agenda nor in any published document. It looks like it was taken from the London Green Belt Assessment.
The assessment was produced by consultancy LUC for the Greater Londoner Authority (GLA) and 12 participating London boroughs, including Barnet. The study was commissioned by the GLA to assess green belt land within Greater London and to consider how existing green belt land contributes to the five national green belt purposes set out in the updated National Planning Policy Framework.
The Assessment specifies that it is designed to “support London boroughs in their local plan making and development management processes…London boroughs may decide to build on the assessment findings with finer grained assessments where considered necessary”.
It also highlights that while it “identifies broad locations in the Green Belt where designation to Metropolitan Open Land is likely to be a reasonable prospect…the identified extent of each of the Green Belt areas identified could in many locations be refined into different shapes and sizes depending on the scale of future ambition and nature of future proposals that may come forward.”
This means that, while a site may be highlighted in the Assessment, it does not mean it will be declared to be Grey Belt. The Draft London Plan does not contain a specific list of sites that will be developed. It places the duty of site identification on the boroughs, rather than City Hall.
On Monday, Barnet Cabinet approved the response to the Draft London Plan made by a cross-party group of councillors. While the Draft London Plan consultation deadline has gone, I will continue to scrutinise the viability of the housing targets set out by the Mayor, alongside other key issues affecting our constituency throughout the Examination in Public taking place next year.
Best wishes,
Cllr Barry Rawlings
Friern Barnet Ward Leader of Barnet Council, and the Labour Group
Now I know that many people do not trust politicians and that a lot of people are very worried about this matter. I have known Barry for many years. It is fair to say I have been a very stern critic of his on many occasions. However, I have to say that whilst I think Barry gets many things wrong, he is basically an honest decent person and I believe his response is a true and accurate summary of what the situation actually is. I would advise everyone to treat such documents circulating on social media with a degree of scepticism. I would also advise people to ensure that they do not assume that there will be no building on Green Belt. If we want to protect it, we will need to be very vigilant. I am also aware of how planning consultancies and developers work. One of their tricks is to start rumours of impending doom, then when something that is less bad emerges, people think they have won. What Barry says about the London plan is correct. Much of what is in these plans never happens, but the other side of the equation is that it does make things more likely to happen. I personally think the Green Belt is worth fighting for. My view is that there are plenty of better solutions than concreting over green space. The sad truth is that builders prefer building on such land as it is cheaper and more profitable for them.
You never really know what is going through other people's minds, do you? You also never really know if those special moments in your life will seem so special in a few years time. As social media becomes more 'mature', we see more and more people posting comments on memories from a few years ago, saying "That didn't age well". What this generally means is that we believed something to be true but events have shown that a completely different reality to the one we perceived at the time has emerged.
As I mentioned earlier this week, someone who I had believed to be a close friend 'defriended me by email' this week, the email was not even directed to me. I was just cc'd into an email to a third party. I cannot tell you how surprised this turn of events was. I believed the person to be a very steady, reliable, trustworthy sort of person. The sort of person who I felt I understood. I have flaky mates, who I know are very unpredictable. This was very different. Once I got over the initial shock of something that was totally unexpected, I started going through all of our interactions over many years. I was trying to work out what the clues were. When we went to football together, and he bought me a beer, what was going on? If he had said that he had come to the conclusion I was a terrible person and was no longer my friend, that would make some kind of sense, but his email made 100% plain that he has not considered me a friend for a considerable time. During that period, there has been no indication to me in regards to our friendship. I am now faced with the fact that many of my good shared memories with him are something rather different to what I thought they were. To me memories are important mementos of a life. Good moments shared with friends are like cherished coins in a collection.
I feel like a coin collector, who has spent years collecting valuable coins. I have paid handsomely for a fine, rare coin. I've displayed it in my collection with pride. Just imagine how I'd feel if I was informed that this fine rare coin was actually a knock off fraud. I hadn't known, I hadn't spotted it. I'd wonder how many of my coin collector friends had spotted what should have been obvious a mile off. I'd wonder if they were all laughing at me behind my back. I'd call my own naivety and trusting nature into question. I'd look at all the coin collector events I'd displayed my collection at in a different light. The memories would be tainted. Now I am not a coin collector. To me my friends are like the valuable coins. And one is not what I thought. It is different to having a great friend and falling out with them. I founded the False Dots with my best friend from school. We fell out. It was a specific moment in time. It didn't taint the memories we'd shared before. There was no duplicity over a long period.
I very rarely fall out with people. If someone is a friend, I try very hard to maintain that friendship. I try to be honest. I put my hands up when I am in the wrong. When I have fallen out with people who matter to me, it has usually been over a specific event or episode and it has been clear to me why. It is like walking a path with someone and meeting a fork and off you go in different directions. But when there is no fork it is a very different thing. I find myself looking for clues in the memories. They are there. The odd bit of strange, out of character behaviour. Things that made no sense at the time, suddenly becoming apparent.
I have a good friend who's wife was cheating on him for a long time. One day, she cleaned out the bank account and left him with two kids under 8 years old. It took him a long time to get over it. For a couple of years, we'd invariably end up in the pub and he's always say "I just can't believe I never saw it coming, all the signs were there". The circumstances make it very difficult to take anything positive out of the relationship, apart from his children, who are wonderful. I thought it was very sad, but quite understandable, that he had seemingly erased the good times completely.
The events reminded me of my father. He was betrayed by his solicitor, who was also a personal friend. Unlike what happened to me, it had a huge financial impact. My father ran a business called Mac Metals in Mill Hill. In about 1982, he had the opportunity to by the former railway depot site on Bunns Lane from British Rail. Dad had rented a portion of the site from BR for many years for use as a car park. Dad negotiated a knock down price, as he knew the BR property department well. He instructed his solicitor to proceed with the sale. It kept stalling. Eventually Dads solicitor advised him that he should withdraw his offer, as BR were no longer playing ball. Dad, trusting his solicitor implicitly, followed his advice. Within a matter of weeks, the site had sold to a developer. The next time Dad saw his solicitor, Dad expressed his surprise that the developer had bought it and got planning permission. The solicitor replied "That's because he had a good solicitor". Dad was taken aback by this comment. He asked "Who is that solicitor?". The reply was "Me!". Dad exploded in rage and said "You were acting for me, you said BR wouldn't sell it". The solicitor said dismissively "You don't know what you are doing so I thought it was a bad idea if you bought it". Dad realised he'd been completely stitched up. I discussed it with him a couple of years later. He said "When I calmed down, I realised it was just an expensive lesson. Never trust solicitors, instruct them and sack them if they don't do what you tell them." He added "When the dust settled, it made me realise how lucky I'd been. He wanted to go out with your sister. Just imagine if a snake like that had been part of the family. I was actually quite sad she didn't like him as I thought he was a solid bloke with a good job". In my case, the only damage has been to my memories. Dad was right though, in all such things, there are lessons and not only that, things could have been a million times worse.
It also made me reflect on the things that cast a different light on our perception of things. Perhaps an illustration of this happened on Friday night. The False Dots did a gig at Nambucca. It was an amazing night. We played really well. However there was one small problem. The venue has a brilliant lighting system. As a guitarist, I play with guitar pedals. These add effects such as echo and distortion to your guitar sound. Although it has a good sound system, it is actually quite hard to hear your instrument properly on stage. This is not normally a problem. I know that the guitar pedal is functioning and giving the desired sound because it has a red light on when the effect is operating. The problem? The lighting system was very powerful and one of the most common effects was to bathe the stage in red. When this happened, I simply couldn't see whether the effects were on or off. The light was shining red, but because everything else was red, I couldn't see it. The sign was there shining brightly but you cannot actually see it until the colour changes.
It made me realise that a simple lighting change can alter your whole perception of the world. The lights were very hypnotic and during one musical section of a song, it appeared that there was a 'light curtain' in front of us. For about a second, the hypnotic effect overcame me, and I thought I was lying in bed and the sun was shining on a curtain. It was very strange and I almost missed my cue to come back in. Thinking you are in bed at home, when you are in the middle of a gig is a very odd feeling indeed. But it made me realise just how fragile our hold on reality and perception can really be. I am sure that anyone who was watching had not the slightest clue what was going on in my head, as we played.
Which bring me back to my opening statement " You never really know what is going through other people's minds, do you?". If I can think I am at home in bed, when I am onstage in front of a 100 people, it really isn't that surprising that I didn't pick up that someone was not being honest with me. It is sad that the shared memories are now, to some degree, tainted. However, some perspective is needed.
Here is the moment from Nambucca when I simply drifted off. You'd not notice.
Last Saturday, Gary Crowley on BBC Radio London asked listeners about the best Theatre shows they'd seen. It got me thinking, what are the best shows I've seen. I am more a gig person than a Theatre lover, but I have seen some banging shows. Here is my Top Ten.
1. Jersey Boys. Absolutely the no 1 show I've seen. No Question at all. Not only are the songs brilliant, but the inter band relationships and politics are so well portrayed. I've seen dozens of films, etc about bands and it is rare that they get anywhere near portraying the complexities of having several creative people working in close proximity for years and sometimes decades. One of the things it showed so well is how the dynamic changes over time.
2. The man in the womens shoes. I saw this at the Tricycle theatre in Kilburn (now The Kiln). It is the work of Irish actor/playwrite Mikel Murfi. It tells the story of a man in rural Ireland who is unable to speak and works as a cobbler. It is a one man show and Murfi shows us two sides of Pat Farnon, what he is thinking and what everyone else sees. It is a brilliant depiction of rural Ireland, but also an object lesson for all of us into how we judge and misjudge people. This is definitely my No 1 non musical show. I've now seen it three times.
3. Love and death and rock and roll. The story of Wilko Johnson. Few musicians had such a fascinating life as Wilko. A founder of Dr Feelgood, a member of The Blockheads. One of the few people to recover from pancreatic cancer. We saw it at the Southwark Playhouse. Paul Weller was in the audience. Well worth seeing.
4. All or Nothing. The story of The Small Faces. A band I love. For some reason, despite being massive in the 1960's they seem to me to be criminally overlooked and underrated. It was on at the Arts Theatre
5. The Harder they Come. This was originally a film vehicle for Jimmy Cliff. As I love Jimmy Cliff, it was great to see the production at Stratford. It did not disappoint.
6. Don Juan. We went to see a production of Don Juan, performed by a Georgian Theatre company. I can't recall where or when. It was a bizarre night as there was meant to be alive translation subtitle system, but it broke down. It was a truly bizarre evening. I thought it was wonderful.
7. Once a Catholic. This was the first theatre production I saw without my parents. I think it was in 1979 at The Wyndham Theatre. I believe I went with my mates from Orange Hill. I think I was the only Catholic, so I saw it in a completely different light. They didn't really get how most people felt about nuns who'd been taught by them. It made an impression on me.
8. The Ferryman. A Jez Butterworth play, about an Ireland during the troubles. Intense and gripping. Perhaps the best really serious play I've seen. I am a fan of Butterworths work.
9. The Rat Pack. The story of Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin et all. It was the last show I went to with my dearly departed Father in Law, Mr Leslie Harrison. Les was a wonderful man. He loved Sinatra, et all. I had never really been into that whole thing. However, the play was fascinating. not least the way that the pack stood up against the racism of the USA and how they stood up for Sammy Davis Jnr. A good play, for me, is one that engages you and maybe, you learn something from. This one ticked all the boxes. Perhaps the thing I recall best, was a technical point. The main characters had microphone cables, coiled on the floor so they wouldn't trip over them when singing and performing dance routines. I was fascinated by this (I know, its a bit sad!).
10. Lazarus. We went to see this at the Kings Cross Theatre soon after Bowie passed away. It is a sort of follow on from the film "The man who fell to Earth". I think we were all still mourning Bowie at the time and it felt like a connection to him. I am not sure if it was any good, but it was quite cathartic for me as a Bowie fan. I think I enjoyed it more than any of the mawkish tribute concerts we saw.
What are your favourite Theatre productions? Why?
And finally, a couple of bits of housekeeping before I dive into the list. Thanks to everyone who came down to Nambucca last night for The False Dots show. There was a great support set from The Monoversals. I am also delighted to announce the next False Dots show, and it will be a banger
