Day one , and the home team supporters are already baying for blood. That's what happens when you wait for seven years for kick off

We chose a great spot to watch the mens cycle race. However there was one small problem. No cyclists .Having arrived just after the start we faced the prospect of four or five hours rooted to the spot as we awaited the return of these guys for there final sprint. We hung around to take in a couple of numbers from these guys in red , then slung our hook and made for the pub for lunch

Day one, and things aren't quite going to plan

Well , if there was a gold gong for jingoistic twaddle then the BBC commentators would win it in a canter.
The Olympics proper kicked off this morning at nine.
By five past the hour the testosterone filled BBC reporter from Radio Five Live who was covering the Archery at Lord's announced in no uncertain terms that the Team GB men's four was looking good for gold.
In hushed tones this very excitable reporter advised us that all the guys had to do was breeze past the Ukraine team (who the reporter simply didn't rate) then deal to the world champion Koreans, a team who our intrepid reporter suggested were "out of sorts".
It was all over in twenty minutes. Team GB were simply blown into the weeds by these no account  Ukranians.
What's the matter with these Eastern Europeans? Didn't they know they were simply there to make up the numbers and act as target practice for the all conquering British four?
No matter, the next event was the ten metre female air rifle shooting.
The most articulate English commentator advised us that after four shots the Team GB competitor was leading the field with four perfect bulls eyes and was a shoe-in for either Gold or at worst , Silver.
Looking good , looking very good.
Hang on a minute, we have just received an update confirming that no fewer than thirty five competitors had in fact nailed perfect scores after four rounds.
Roll onto the ten o'clock news update.
Bad news. Team GB's sole entrant in the ten metre shoot had been eliminated in the first round.
Change of tone from the English reporter. We now discover that said competitor was in fact a Scot. Bloody hell, who let her into the team?
At this point I'm reminded of the fact that as and when the Brit Andy Murray fails at every tennis major, the following morning all, London papers report that the Scot Murray has once again fallen short.
OK, enough of the negativity. None of these side issues count for much.
What really matters is the Men's Road Cycle Race.
The result is a forgone conclusion. The five man GB team includes last week's Tour de France winner Bradley Wiggins and the mighty Mark Cavendish. You should recall at this point that at the last Olympics in Beijing Mark Cavendish was the only male member of the Team GB team who failed to pick up a medal.
Redemption day has arrived.
We wanted to get into the act so wandered down to the course and positioned ourselves smack bang out front of Buck House, a possie 300 metres from the finish line.
We actually didn't arrive until about 1115 so missed the mass start. One thing led to another and we got into a discussion with a couple who had  made the two hour trek  up from Winchester to witness Mark Cavendish ordained as the worlds number one road cyclist.
In discussion I put it to this manic fan that maybe a Cavendish win wasn't in the bag as the other one hundred and forty plus riders might have a different view.
I was promptly advised that I should stick to rugby and that Cavendish's win wasn't  even worthy of debate.It was a no brainer.
As the riders weren't due to return to Constitution Hill and The Mall for a number of hours we decided to high tail it off to one of our favourite pubs The Audley for lunch.
We couldn't be bothered going back to the course to await the final stages of the race as we were not big on just sitting around in the sun doing nothing .
So it's off home to watch the final act on tellie.
I switch on the box to discover that the Team GB plan has turned to custard , everything has gone wrong, and in the final analysis the much vaunted team finished way down in the Paleton .
Never mind, there are fifteen days to go and a truck load of water to pass under the bridge.
I have every confidence that the local team will start delivering  the goods, preferably sooner rather than later.
This is nation desperate for success
They are just as bad as those pesky Crusaders and All Blacks supporters

Me jealous? Certainly not! Shame on you for even thinking that!

Well done that woman! You are a bloody Legend!

You know, in life, timing can be everything

The Olympic ceremony is twenty four short hours away.
On it's final day touring the United Kingdom the torch has been trotted out around the city of Westminster. Crowd estimations for today's event topped a million. During the last sixty nine days no less than twelve million have turned out to watch the progress of the torch.
Sports stars, celebrities, those with connections, war heroes, politicians, the high and mighty, they all fought tooth and nail  to hold the torch aloft, albeit for a brief moment.
And then we get down to the highlight of this two month extravaganza , the torch comes to mighty Pimlico, and specifically the exit to the Pimlico tube.
We had spent the day out over in our old haunt of Angel Islington.
I had to return to the apartment early to attend to some business however Julia hung about to do some shopping. 
And here's what went down.
Julia caught the tube back home and she exited the station at the same moment the torch arrived.
There was a brief thirty second lull prior to thousands over running the place.
Just enough time for Julia to claim glory for Godzone.
We are now off to the pub to celebrate.
Yee Ha!

Justice is Blind. Yeah...........right!

The guys at reception hands out a guff sheet on the court case you are about to drop in on. This is of huge assistance as the sheet clearly lays out the case and supplies a list of the legal line up . So by the time you take your seat you are fully up to speed

The Supreme Court building in Parliament Square. A great drop-in centre when it's thirty degrees outside

Yesterday whilst strolling home via Parliament Square we spotted the Supreme Court building and once having established that there was a bit live action in progress, decided to take a quick look at the British justice system in action
The guy at reception advised us that there were two juicy actions on the go. One in Court Three related to the question of whether British Airways pilots should be entitled to more than just their basic pay rate when on holiday. We decided to give that one a miss as the thought of watching greedy pilots hassling for more cash would have been a real turn off.
Instead we plugged for Court Two.
THE ISSUE here was "Whether the Institute Defendants are vicariously liable for acts of sexual and physical abuse committed by its members who were working at a school"
THE FACTS.  "170 pupils, who attended the School in Market Weighton between 1958-1992, brought claims alleging widespread sexual and physical abuse by teachers"
The bottom line here was that 35 Catholic teaching brothers  basically got up to no good on a wholesale scale
What were my impressions as a result of attending this post lunch sitting.
First and foremost it was blatantly apparent that the four Lords and one Lady had all tucked into a jolly good lunch and had obviously sunk one or two. All five were slightly flushed in the face and very talkative.
The whole dialogue thing was highly entertaining.
And what did both of us conclude a couple of hours down the track.
This whole case appeared to be a face saving exercise on the part of the Church, their school, the school governors and most of all , a big white wash for the 35  accused
Once you got your head around the fact that no one in this particular discussion appeared to give a toss for the plight of the 170 victims of all this abuse, then the lawyers line of argument made obvious sense.
We greatly enjoyed the experience of witnessing the cogs of justice in action however the afternoon also served to remind us that the less we have to do with lawyers and courts , the better off we will be.
It was all a bit too creepy for our liking. 
I might keep an eye on upcoming cases so we can drop into one of the many "A" list celebrity punch ups that eventually end up being litigated in this particular building
That is more our style

The Proms are up and running. Great stuff!

We love The Proms. Actually come to think of it, we love life. End of story

Alice Coote. I am going to sing you a number of french love songs. And YOU will love them! Grrrrrrrrr! 

The Proms. One week down and eight to go. Things are getting exciting!

Two concerts into the Proms and things are already starting to get very interesting.
First up, was a lunch time concert at Cadogan Hall, a series of French love songs (sung in French to confuse the English audience) and performed by a mezzo soprano , one Alice Coote.
By her own admission Alice was on much more familiar territory when ripping into Wagner. The publicity photo fully supports this claim.
That said, Alice delivered sixty minutes of electricity. This woman slotted into the role and by the middle of her first number was rolling her eyes , strutting her stuff, tearing at her opera gown, clutching her face, the whole nine yards.
What a performance, the crowd went ballistic, so much so that the Radio BBC3 MC at one stage beseeched us to cool it so the radio listeners could maximise their enjoyment.
However, I have to say that towards the end of Alice's dynamic performance a really weird  recollection leapt into my thoughts.
As I was watching Alice tearing away at her God awful and badly fitting opera gown my thoughts carried back to an episode many years ago when I was working with my good friend Eric Pilling and on this particular weekend it fell to the Pillings and Alcorns to entertain a sales guy we had over from the USA.
We wanted to make a real impression on this guy so had set up a dinner for five at the Pillings house for Saturday evening.
I suggested to Eric that we nail some interesting entertainment and initially Eric came back with the suggestion that for a hundred and fifty bucks we could hire an act that made house calls called The Jumping Jews. ( I know, I know, but this was the eighties. Stuff like this happened in those days). The scenario here was that four Jewish guys front up at your house dressed in full kit, then backed by the appropriate music proceed to leap around your lounge for an hour or so.
Both Eric and I were bitterly  disappointed to hear that our jumpers were fully booked for the  weekend so we settled on a musical duo, a seventy something opera singer (again in full garb) who would belt out all the numbers from The Sound Of Music, accompanied by a singing dog.
I have to say the performance from start to finish was a classic, possibly one of the greatest in-house performances I have ever witnessed.
The singer and dog arrived at the Pillings front door acompanied by a minder in the form of her husband, a real character who played his part to the max. I actually remember this guy clearly for two reasons 1) because he was attired in a magnificent brown hand knitted cardigan with huge wooden toggle buttons that looked like the shells of small baby turtles and 2) whilst his wife and her four legged friend were belting out Julie Andrews classics , Bob was busy in the kitchen hoovering through Eric's wine stock.
As for the performance, things were going great guns for the most part, that was until Eric recognised one of the numbers and decided to add his voice and deliver the song as a trio.
Disaster, Eric had no way of knowing the dog was a "duo only specialist". Said dog immediately spat the dummy and got stage fright.
Performance over. 
And what's the connection with Alice, both women wore badly fitting gowns.
Aah memories, aren't they wonderful things.

Fashion Policewoman Julia speaking. When this Opéra singer glided onto the stage she received gasps from the audience. I then realised it wasn't her presence that got their attention but what she was shrouded in. A billowing, red and white striped silk number, too long, too loose and completely shapeless. John and I both agreed that Alice must have stolen and restyled her husband's yacht spinnaker. 

Onto Saturday evening.
This had to be a winner. Daniel Barenboim conducting the brilliant West-Eastern Divan Orchestra performing Beethoven's Symphonies 3&4. I have to admit something was nagging away at me whilst we rode along in the the 360 to the Royal Albert Hall. Finally I figured out what was troubling me and I turn to Julia and said you know there's something not quite right here. If the kick off time is 7:30 and the concert finishes at approximately 10:00, even if there's a healthy thirty minute intermission  that still leaves two full hours in performance time and there's just no way the 3rd and 4th will take two hours to knock out.
Straight through the front door and up to the programme counter, quickly opening to page twelve and blow me down, good on Daniel has slipped in Pierre Boulez's 'Dialogue de l'ombre double' as some kind of fill-in act between both symphonies.
Let's deal with the positives first. Daniel Barenboim is one class act and is a hugely energetic and entertaining conductor. Daniel put together this orchestra some years back so they have had time to gel. The results speak for themselves. As an aside the West-Eastern Divan Orchestra is named to reflect that the musicians hail from a mixture of Arab and Israeli origins, which is a pretty good thing thing all round.
As for the symphonies, what can you say. In other worlds, familiarity might breed contempt, however that's obviously not the case when it comes to good old Ludwig. The audience went wild in their appreciation of both Beethoven pieces. This was seriously moving stuff.
Now, as for the fill-in, all I will say is that Monsieur Boulez is an acquired taste. I would hazard a guess that apart from Daniel and the orchestra, the other 8,000 punters in the hall, all to a man (and woman) thought this piece was at best tedious and at worst an over hyped piece of junk.
As a rock music lover my ears and brain are conditioned to taking onboard all manner of trashy rubbish.
Let me just say that for me, Boulez created a new low with daylight between this and probably the second worst piece of music I have had the misfortune to listen to ( some Pink Floyd number written back in the early seventies when both the composer and performers were as high as kites when they laid down the track).
Post concert when we were waiting for the bus to take us back to a pub near Pimlico, any number of fellow concert goers were all hammering away with the same general comments, to wit, what the bloody hell was Barenboim up to slipping that piece of junk into the programme.
As a postscript I should tell you that Andrew Marr interviewed Daniel on the BBC on Sunday morning and when Andrew put it to him that throwing Boulez into the Beethoven series was a bit of a low blow, Daniels response was that it was important to air these lesser known composers.
Guess what, on Tuesday night we are off to another Ludwig double header, the 7th and 8th. Don't even ask. Crafty Daniel has thrown us yet another curve ball filler, this time it will be Boulez's Anthemes 2. I can hardly wait (not!)

Julia's comment. To my mind, there is a thin line between what is music and what is simply noise. I love jazz and when my ears first heard the start of Monsieur Boulez's piece I got excited but after only ten minutes I thought I had gone to hell. Was this a sick joke? Towards the end, the music (sound/noises) dipped and the now restless audience heaved a collective sigh thinking their torture was at an end. Bad luck, Daniel and his boys had at least ten minutes left in the tank. I knew the applause would be enormous....generated by relief. I was also aware that this piece coming right before intermission would guarantee record alcohol sales at the Hall's bars at the upcoming thirty minute break. 

Amsterdam

The night watch. This shot doesn't do it justice. You just have to make the effort to visit the gallery yourself

Bikes and yet more bikes. I knew in advance that Amsterdam locals were keen on biking. What I didn't fully appreciate was the "full on" extent of their keenness  

You have to assume that these buildings have a while to go before they eventually topple into the canal.
They have been around for five hundred years so whats a small lean amongst friends 

Amsterdam, this was a bit of a winner

This is a tricky city to get to from Berlin. Direct flights are either hideously expensive or if you want a cheap ticket you have to fly at some ungodly hour.
We opted for a six hour train ride which actually isn't as bad as it sounds.
Prior to arrival we had a preconceived notion that central Amsterdam would resemble some kind of drug smoker's paradise and whilst it's true that there are any number of 'coffee shops' filled with glazed eyed stoned clients, the reality is that Amsterdam has far more to offer.
For starters, the whole central city area is just a hive of activity. Obviously cars are thin on the ground however there are fantastic bus and tram services supplemented by no less than ONE MILLION bikes...yes, one million bikes!
This is a tourist Mecca if you love canal cruises, art galleries, history museums, great bars and top line restaurants. On that score we trawled the web and dined at three top Dutch style restaurants on successive evenings namely Van Speyk, Greetje and Bistrot Neuf. 
Art Galleries....in a word ' stunning'. The Van Gogh Museum itself was a credit to the Dutch. The collection itself was mind-blowing and covered the one-eared wonder's entire painting career. I was particularly taken with the 1888 painting' Fishing Boats on the Beach at Les Saintes-Marie-de-la-Mer' as I clearly recalled that whilst alive my parents had a print of same hung up in their house. We also have a connection to this painting having recently visited this beach in Provence and also in Arles right next to our hotel on the river were three identical boats as an echo of Van Gogh's presence in that town.
Now, on to the main arty event of this trip. A visit to the Rijksmuseum to check out Rembrandt's 'The Night Watch'. I have always been fascinated by this painting probably because it has been the victim of two knife attacks over the years. The restorers have done a marvellous job and up close you can barely detect any damage. The thing is, this painting is really interesting to look at. There is just heaps going on. That's not to say that the rest of this 400 piece collection of masterpieces aren't magnificent, because they are. It's just that I think 'The Night Watch' is something very special. On the other hand Julia is very keen on Vermeer. You come away from these galleries with a greater understanding of why the Dutch were a force to be reckoned with way back when. They refer to it as the miracle of the Dutch Golden Age, and they were right. W e wandered by Anne Frank's House but the queues went on forever so we flagged any thoughts of dropping in.
A word about Schiphol Airport, our departure point. Prior to arriving at the airport I kept on wondering how the logistics would work out with just one terminal. The answer is....this terminal is a Biggie! To give you an example our departure gate was D26, a brisk 20 minute walk. Once the aircraft left the departure gate it taxied for no less than 20 minutes and in it's travels passed over one creek in flood, a rather wide canal, 2 dual carriage-way roads and a couple of 6 lane highways. The Pommies behind us were cracking any number of jokes about the possibility of taxiing all the way to London. As an aside the flight itself to Gatwick was all over in 38 minutes!
Like Berlin, Amsterdam is a great location for a yearly visit. The clog factory, the flower market and the windmills can wait for another day.

Berlin, my kind of town

Opera Italiana in Gendarmenmarkt. The Berlin Concert Hall is in the background. That was one fantastic musical experience 

Same venue , its either the French or German Dome. We asked various Germans in the crowd to clarify however they all had to admit they didn't have a clue (Gotcha!)

Late afternoon drinks with friends Heinz and Birgit in the shadow of the Brandenberg Gate. The plonk is standard daytime fare in these parts, Prosecco with Aperol liqueur. This cafe was a great location for people watching 

Berlin

OK, its not everyones idea of a dream wedding limo, however i have to say i quite like the look of this stretched Trabant, a vehicle relic from old East German days. This car is parked just under the Brandenberg Gate and was acting as transport for a rather large wedding group

Remnants of the wall are few and far between. If we didn't already have enough rubble hanging around Christchurch, Julia decided to add to the stockpile by way of purchasing a hunk of the original wall.
More excess baggage worries for the flight home

Berlin, now this is what I would describe as a seriously interesting city

On our only previous visit back in 1981 the wall still had eight years of life in it.
I always recall walking through Checkpoint Charlie  and being heavily frisked by evil  looking East German guards. I also recall Julia, our mate Heinz and yours truly dropping in for lunch at a terrible (and almost deserted)  East Berlin restaurant as we attempted to offload the heap of East German D-marks we were forced to purchase when we crossed into the east sector of the city.
And two more memories. An East German guard sticking the barrel of his machine gun through Heinz's half closed car window as we were moving through the border checkpoint. And the sight of a heavily armed and very agitated East German guard charging up an East Berlin department store escalator as he attempted to grab me as I was taking a photo of the store (apparently that action on my part was a bit of a no no).
Roll onto 2012 and we meet up with Heinz and Birgit for a great weekend.
Berlin is a fantastic city. It's full of life and is the kind of place that has it all.
Arts, sports, fantastic water cruises, amazing looking buildings and a vast variety of night time entertainment. Without a doubt Berlin is "the place" to visit when in Europe with three or four days to kill.
For three full days we were on the go. We stayed at the Radisson Blu in central Berlin. This is a stunning hotel. Check it out on the net. The interior bar area is a sight to behold. Directly above the bar sits a forty foot high fish tank about twenty feet wide. What a sight. This AquaDom is the world's largest cylindrical aquarium and home to many species of tropical fish swimming around in one million litres of sea water.
Highlights. Drinks at the Brandenburg Gate, the sight of a wedding party posing under the gate and in front of a relic of the past, a stretched Tribant converted into a limo, an amazing water cruise on the river Spree, the night bar life, the Jewish memorial, the Dali museum to name a few.
However the outstanding experience had to be the classic open air concert  "Opera Italiana" featuring works by Verdi, Puccini, and Rossini.
The location was the Gendarmenmarkt, a square directly outside the Berlin Concert Hall and  squeezed between the spectacular French and German Domes.
The evening was simply magical. Fantastic performances by the Berlin Philharmonia and all soloists. Sitting in this square listening to great music as the night set in and all surrounding buildings started to light up was.......it was bloody brilliant. Shivers down the spine territory.
It was one of those classical experiences where you felt privileged to being part of something really special.
I should also mention we had a real laugh whilst strolling home from a great restaurant one evening.
Heinz routed us down  Oranienburger Strasse, a very lively part of town and an area wall to wall with bars filled with young party-goers. High class hookers were all over the place strutting their stuff which all added to the flavour of the area. At one point we strolled past the infamous Hotel Arcotel Velvet. The deal with this joint is that a) it's mostly occupied by hookers doing their thing with customers and b) all bedroom windows (which are floor to ceiling) look directly down on any number of bars situated across the street from the Hotel. We are looking at them, whilst they are looking at us looking at them.
What else, this is risqué territory. The deal is that on any evening you can look up at the hotel windows and more often than not some nut bag will have pulled the curtains open to ensure the drinking voyeur hordes down below can cop an eye full of all the cavorting. I loved it, however we had places to go so we couldn't stick around for a drink. In point of fact, we couldn't find a free table so had to settle for a table at a bar fifty metres down the road. Our table was on the footpath, hard up against the parking place of a six foot,thigh-high white leather boot cladded hooker with exceptionally large enhanced breasts. She actually looked like a very sexy cyborg which wasn't a problem for the geeky nerd who hired her five minutes down the track as he obviously wanted an out of world experience and he would have certainly got it. Just as aside,  this guy obviously wasn't  a stayer as the cyborg was back on patrol within ten minutes.
Overall  impression, Berlin has obviously made a big play for young people by way of low rents and modest living costs. There's a certain electric energy to this town and a feeling this is just the beginning and there's more to come. This is a city you could visit for a short period every year and never get bored.

Stockholm

What a great city to visit on a short mid summer break. As for the question of whether we would return during the winter period, forget it. 

Julia outside the Nobel Prize gong awards factory. Nice statue however the same can't be said of the building behind it

The Royal warship VASA

Up close this vessel is an amazing sight

Why Stockholm?

First and foremost it sounded like a very interesting place to visit and Richard had raved on about it and as a bonus we could get to check out one of world's greatest tourist attractions. The Vasa Museum.
So what's the deal with this museum. You need a bit of history here. In 1625 the King of Sweden commissioned a German ship builder to construct the mother-of-all galleons. The ship builder died half way through the process and a Dutchman finished the job. Prior to it's initial test voyage, the admiral of the fleet ran a traditional stability test on the vessel by way of having 30 sailors run as one from side to side on the top deck. Even though moored in placid waters, the admiral became so concerned about the rolling motion of the ship he immediately terminated the test. Then along comes the King's directive to increase the vessel's fire power with the unplanned addition of two rows of cannon on the top deck. This was one top heavy and very unstable war ship, a classic train wreck in the offing. On a nice sunny day in 1628 the galleon cast off, quietly sailed 1200 metres down the harbour and then in front of virtually the total population of Stockholm the mighty Vasa got on a slight roll, heeled over and sank like a stone. Loss of life was 50, not that sailor's lives counted for much in those days. 
Moving along to the mid 1960s, technology had reached a point where one very able Swede was able to put together a team to salvage this vessel 95% intact. So there it now sits, in all it's glory and a sight to behold. It's overpowering and has a dominating presence. 
Stockholm itself is a great place for a three or four day visit. The locals are friendly, the food is interesting and there are an endless number of sights on this multi-island city. Everyone speaks perfect English, in fact, at a fluency level better than the English. The Government embraces English as being of equal importance as the Swedish language.
The down side. We were surprised about the mediocre quality of their Modern Art Gallery. When you think that this is modern design central and the home of Ikea it's hard to understand why these free thinking Swedes haven't been able to translate all this wild thought onto canvas. It was a real surprise to us.
The other interesting thing of note is Swedish drinking habits. Prior to arriving here we thought that stringent alcohol controls would have resulted in very modest drinking habits.
No so. Drinking is apparently a major part of the Swedish  lifestyle which on reflection is understandable when you realise that the city is pretty much in the dark for eight months of the year. I guess a healthy daily dose of herrings washed down with kegs of beer helps keep the winter blues in check.Even though the price of wine and spirits is way up there, beer prices seem pretty normal. The interesting thing there is that when you visit a bar or restaurant both males and females can be seen downing huge glasses and tankards of beer. And what's really weird is the sight of slinky stick thin young men and women downing beers at a rate that would do justice to your average middle aged pot bellied English male pub drinker. Maybe these Swedes work off all this alcohol in the sauna prior to going to bed.
We wouldn't want to live here as we suspect that after some time the Swedish life style would become increasingly boring however we will certainly make a short return visit in some future summer with the thought of travelling north up to the arctic area.

Guys, only in England!

What's the bet Asian visitors to Wimbledon found this all a bit much to take in

Any questions?

While the boys are away the wily wife plays

While John and his gang of four were off behaving badly in London Town I had a splendid week all to myself. 
My highlight would have to be my 'Ladies Do Lunch' on Saturday 30 June with old friends and new at the OXO Tower Restaurant. Great food, spectacular views and gorgeous friends. So lovely to catch up with you Jane and Kim.
My other high that week was having a  remarkable day in Tennis Heaven at Wimbledon. Having not been to the tennis there before I was a bit green about the regulated 'queue' system. When I arrived in the enormous car park field to see tents and a staggering amount of people in orderly lines I gasped. Then with the help of an Ozzie couple I'd latched on to we saw the end of the line made easy by a cheerful person holding up a big sign with 'End of the Queue' printed on it. We lined up and were handed a fairly thick stylish little booklet 'A Guide to Queueing' and a numbered Queue Card with my number 07749. I laughed out loud, only in England would you be handed a book on their mastered art of queueing. The bubbly little group of young helpers advised us that they take 8000 people a day for Ground Admission so you can see by my number I was in! High Five! Oh yes, that's not accepted etiquette so I lowered my hand and toned down my enthusiasm. As we meandered closer and closer to the entry gates we were entertained, given drinks, stickers and chatted to by fresh faced staff. They made this whole queuing thing really fun.
After only one and a half hours I was in and I had bubbles and butterflies in my tummy. My first impression was that this was just like a huge English Summer Party and like a kid at an amusement park I couldn't decide on which ride to go on first. Not a problem after checking the board, finding the court and having the luck of the Irish finding a perfect seat at each event. One word...Fabulous!
So, one has to indulge in the mandatory Pimms and the strawberries & cream as well as soaking up as much top class tennis one can absorb, this was becoming a very special day. Then we had rain, so with Lady Luck with me this time I rubbed shoulders with Lindsay Davenport while waiting out of the rain and then Roger Federer came past. Well, that completed my day. I checked out the other tennis stars but Federer is my hero so with stars in my eyes or were they little yellow dots I floated out of the grounds. On my trip back I was planning a return trip for the next day and maybe the following day too. I was hooked.
My other home for that week was the V&A, Victoria & Albert Museum. I am slowly working through the museum and I keep discovering more and more. Now getting used to the ever expanding world of reference material found hidden in the user friendly computers I realise that this Museum goes on infinitum. 

There was also one little event that reinforces my opinion regarding certain sections of the service community.
The other day I was lining up (refining my queuing technique) at the cafe at the Westminster Library. They do a good coffee and you get free Wifi so it's a good place to take a break. The next minute a well dressed feisty  little Indian woman asks the coffee maker for some hot water as her coffee was cold and she wanted to heat it up. 'Ok' said the guy 'but there is a charge'. This ignited the little lady and she raises her voice saying her coffee is cold. 'No' the guy maintains' these are the rules. The charge is 25p'. At this time my turn has come up and I am about to place my order whilst more high pitched verbals continue to be thrown across the counter in both directions. I look at the other older guy in front of me and say' give her the water'. 'No' he says,' the rules are that you have to pay for it. He adds that people come in with their own tea bags and ask for hot water'. At this stage the queue behind me has increased to six and the racket in the corner is escalating. Said queue are rolling or diverting their eyes and huffing. I then say that this is poor customer service, not a good look and her case is different as she doesn't have a tea bag. This was a small Indian tea-bag-free-lady! This does not look like your classic Westminster hot water con artist. He just went quiet. I had thrown him a curved ball. He took my money and said to wait for my cappuccino at the end of the counter near the squabble. I knew then, the rule here is not to get involved. I think she paid her 25p and went back to her friends muttering and mumbling. Everything just settled down and just the sipping and slurping noises emanated from this little cafe. 
PS: On reflection I should have said to the guy behind the counter 'here's a fiver, the hot water is on me'.

The Olympics are upon us

You have to admit it's a pretty good look

The curved thing in the foreground is Boris's bolt-hole, the council head office . The pointy thing in the background is the recently completed Shard, the tallest structure in Europe 

Up close the shard is a monster. No worries about a shortage of work for window cleaners

The final countdown to the Olympics

Ten days to go and things are looking good. There is a feeling of optimism throughout the central city area. Hundreds of thousands of sport tourists all dressed in day-glo sports apparel have descended en masse to take in the "must see " sights.
In fact the whole deal is what one would have anticipated during this final countdown period.
There are numerous observations one could make about this pre-Olympic experience of ours. Most of what 's going on is really positive stuff. The arts have cranked up their act, free outdoor performances are popping up all over the place and TFL (Transport for London) has plastered big pink signs all over to assist those new to London. The pubs and restaurants are full to overflowing and all museums and art galleries are benefiting from a huge upswing in numbers. Fantastic stuff.
All that good stuff aside, there has to be a reality check when you look at this Olympic experience so I thought I might lay out the key points of interest as I have experienced them over the last couple of weeks.
TRANSPORT
Central London will host something like an additional one million tourists over it's traditional peak summer season highs during this upcoming three week period. On any normal day the central city area copes with something in the order of nine million people trips per day. During the Olympics that number will increase to over twelve million trips per day! That is one heck of an increase.
During the last couple of weeks whenever you approach a Tube platform Mayor Boris's voice has been booming out over the PA advising one and all to embrace the spirit of the Olympics and enjoy the experience . Boris then goes on to state the blindingly obvious, towit, the tube system during this period is going to be in total overload mode and on that basis he suggests that we defer to a web site he gives over the PA and suggest in no uncertain terms that if we intend to plan a trip within the city during the Olympics and wish to arrive at our destination in a timely manner and with our brain still intact, then maybe we should consider using an alternative mode of transport. 
Good one Boris. Get the message out there in advance of the impending disaster to ensure you were seen to be pro- active on this matter.
For their part these sport tourist visitors will have to be on a very steep learning curve.
Based on our view of their actions whilst attempting to commute by bus, tube or whatever over the last week, I'm reminded of what happened many years ago in Pakistan when some smart politician decided that on a specific date all vehicles were going to switch over from their traditional right hand drive to left hand drive. All signage was changed, ads went out on TV, the whole bit.
However there was one slight problem.
When D Day arrived no one had given any thought to advising the camels and their drivers that there was a new game in town. As a result the camels stuck to their decades routes. The outcome was total disaster and everyone promptly slotted back to the way it had always been.
So I was thinking about this story when it dawned on me that most of these sport tourists wouldn't be up to speed with how the London transport system actually worked and since there was no way to educate them, they would be left to their own devises, a move that wouldn't assist with transport flows.
And this is exactly what has gone down.
BUSES
If you haven't got a pass, a prepaid ticket or an Oyster Card you simply can't gain access to the bus service. Big learning curve for hundreds of thousands of sport tourists who are attempting to board the buses with cash in hand in expectation that they can purchase a ticket onboard.The result? Lots of confused tourists, impatient Londoners who can't stand 'their bus' being delayed by these day-glo  warriors, and increasingly harassed drivers (who already have chips on both shoulders as their union failed to nail an Olympic cash blackmail deal at the same level as that of the tube drivers).
THE TUBE
Most of these lines get really busy during all peak periods. Passengers continue to flow in and out of the stations because they understand that they have to work in with a set of unwritten rules like , keep moving at a pace, don't hang around in the middle of an access way, walk on the right side of tunnels or as directed, stand on the right of escalators, spread out on the platform to allow an even number for each carriage, don't crowd the trains exit doors as that will delay exiting passengers which in turn will slow you down, and plan in advance.
Of course all this logical stuff is alien news to a family from Boise, Idaho. These guys just amble around, blocking the way, standing on the left side of the escalators, the whole bit.
It's not their fault as they simply don't know any better and no one is about to tell them otherwise (the British stiff upper lip thing comes into play here).
The result is total chaos, as we witnessed on the circle line on Saturday afternoon.
THAMES FERRIES
I understand and agree with the desire for all these sport tourists to check out the sights of London by way of a ferry ride however there is one small technical logistical issue here.
If a ferry holds two hundred PAX that's it, there simply isn't room for more.
On Saturday afternoon we came across a line of eager day-glo warrior tourists that was maybe fifteen hundred in number all attempting to board at the Tower Bridge dock. It didn't help any that it was also bucketing down most of the afternoon.
DRESSING FOR THE CLIMATE
Let's face it to this point, apart from March, London hasn't experienced a 2012 summer. The experts all agree that things look like they are finally going to turn around as soon as this weekend, which is great news.
Meantime when Julia and I venture forth we dress accordingly with an umbrella tucked away close at hand.
When we entered a tube on Sunday we were greeted by the sight of maybe a hundred fresh faced tourists all dressed up with jandals, shorts, micro skirts , tee shirts and cut away tops.
When we all exited at Tower Bridge up went Julia and John's umbrellas. 
And what about these underdressed turkeys, well they started an immediate group freeze session . My God, how they moaned about the weather.
I would venture that these guys will think twice about suitable attire before exiting their hotel rooms when they next venture forth.
POLITICS
What a bunch of losers. At a time when both the London council and central government should all be swimming in the same direction, left wing Labour commies (disguised as well meaning Socialists) are doing their level best to pick holes in the Olympics, the organisational team, and anyone who is associated with the games. Not a good look on any front.
The current political labour circus act is centred on a parliamentary select committee which was today convened to discuss the drama surrounding the 11th hour admission by the security company contracted to run all Olympic security (G4S) that they couldn't deliver on their promise to front with 10,000 security staff. They advise is that they can only deliver 7,000. Upon receipt of this advise the conservative government immediately called in 3,000 army and police to supplement the G4S numbers. For their part G4S simply stated the obvious, that they were greatly disappointed that so many potential security staff pulled out at short notice (apparently the rule of thumb is a 10% no show) . G4S then apologised and indicated that they would cover the full cost of all army and police who would be utilised to make up the shortfall.
Now bear in mind at this point that on a worldwide basis G4S employs some 650,000 staff and is currently the world's fourth biggest private employer.
The chap who heads this company, one Nick Buckle is not the sort of guy you take on without first strapping yourself into an armoured suit made of titanium.
Tell that to these labour twits on the sub committee.
What has been played out on live TV today has been a classic.
This guy Buckle has lost more brain cells that the total contained within the twelve person parliamentary committee.
The line of questioning and responses were predictable.
Like the bright young thing from some God forsaken hole in Wales who when it was her turn to ask a question, screws up her face and spits out "so do you feel responsible for this situation" answer-yes. Aaah, so you admit responsibility. Answer-I have just said yes. "Yes, yes, but are you willing to take full responsibility for this situation here and now, answer that question , yes or no?" ( a triumphant look appears on this labour twits face).
Buckle then looks directly at the house committee chairman and in a low , even and very threatening voice says " I don't think this line of discussion is very productive, do you agree?"
To which the chairman responds, "I would like to thank the member from the South Wales Pit Number 5 electorate for your very insightful line of questioning . Perhaps we could now invite the member for Bradford weavers central to ask a further question".
It all go too much for me.
I trotted off to The Gallery down the road for a drink.

Cheerrs

Hakassan, the Seven Stars and Zuma

Father & son bonding at Hakassan Mayfair

The good guys (Chris, Richard, yours truly and Colin) having a pre lunch drink at The Seven Stars. This pub in the legal district is owned by a crazy seventy plus woman who has dyed her hair bright pink. She employs very strange bar staff however when it matters the service is great and the food is even better

The "A" team at my favorite restaurant Zuma. This is where footballers and their wags come to strut their stuff, along with Russian mobsters and general riff raff like those blokes in the photo.

Dinner by Heston

The kitchen. The six of us were sitting directly opposite at a U shaped table where we took in all the action. These chefs and their side-kicks certainly earn their money. It's frantic and full on from start to finish

The head chef, who talked us through each course. the line up in front of him is our plonk which I can confirm cost an arm and both legs. It was worth it

The food was simply fantastic. Reputation is everything at this level.There is simply no room for error 

Dinner by Heston

The wines were just stunning

More food, every bit as good as every other dish

This dude is preparing our Nitro ice-cream. this is one of Heston's party tricks and a pretty impressive one at that