I hit Monday on the back of a great weekend. The Charity Dinner at the Wellie Park on Friday was a huge success. The Legal-Island staff in attendance scrubbed up beautifully and were on top form sporting lovely hairdos, gorgeous dresses and by the end of the evening (one at least) fine "Sauvignon blanc" smiles.
Saturday and I headed with the Lady Captain to the Mournes. En route we must have sounded like we were auditioning for entry into the local old peoples' home. Part of the conversation went like this :
" Barry that's Murlough Bay over there which is really lovely"
" Oh yes someone was telling me about that a couple of weeks back. That wasn't you by any chance was it?"
" Don't know it may have been I remember telling someone about it about two weeks ago but I can't remember if it was you or not.."
Oh how we chuckled....
Sunday was spent at work trying to get my head around Twitter. It finished with a very poor Secret Millionaire trying to connect with disinterested school children by teaching mathematical theories to a kid who was having difficulties adding 8 & 5. This man made millions. There's hope for us all.
Monday, 27 April 2009
Friday, 24 April 2009
Rashmakan Popat - That's P O P A T
I'm at the Wellington Park Hotel waiting for the Charity Dinner guests to arrive. As usual I'm early. In fact over an hour early (this is also common).
I went to the cigar machine but it was empty but for 3 10pence pieces in the change compartment that someone had forgotten to uplift. For some reason this caused a flashback for me to my school days and a character who was Northampton School for Boy's finest entrepreneur. His name was Rashmakhan Popat. "That's P O P A T" he used to spell out to anyone he had just introduced himself to through his lovely white eyes and his disarming smile.
Rashmakan was a Ugandan Asian thrown out of his country of birth thanks to Idi Amin. He arrived in England knowing very little English but already, just two years on in our school, was making his way up the streamed classes in all the core subjects.
He was a great wheeler dealer. He was always in the schoolyard selling pencils 3 for 20p which he had bought no doubt for a lot less at his uncle's corner shop. Sometimes he'd be running a raffle of dubious legality, dubious prizes and even more dubious winners. "1 ticket for 10p or you can have a strip for just 30p" he'd say. "Just 3 10ps that's all" was his closing pitch.
There was something about Rashmakan that you instinctively knew he was destined to be successful and make it rich. Most likely very rich and have the last laugh on us all. But he had one drawback in most peoples' eyes. He was a "Paki". It made no difference when he explained that he was born in Uganda a place about as far away from Pakistan as England was. He looked different and sounded it too and that made everyone feel uncomfortable and that meant he received all sorts of shameful racist abuse.
There was just one other Ugandan Asian in the school called Narendeh Savjani. The two had been good friends but fallen out and never spoke to each other which struck me as a pity. Despite whatever it was that had driven them apart they still kept their integrity which always impressed me. Each would simply say of the other "I've fallen out with him and we don't speak anymore". Nothing more.
One winter's day Rashmakhan tripped and fell into a puddle in the schoolyard where a drain had blocked. It wasn't large and probably no deeper than 10cm. He had fallen in face down and was clearly concussed because he didn't move. No bastard would pluck him out either. He said afterwards that he nearly drowned. And he was right.
But where are you now Rashmakhan Popat (that's P O P A T) and how loud are you laughing?
I went to the cigar machine but it was empty but for 3 10pence pieces in the change compartment that someone had forgotten to uplift. For some reason this caused a flashback for me to my school days and a character who was Northampton School for Boy's finest entrepreneur. His name was Rashmakhan Popat. "That's P O P A T" he used to spell out to anyone he had just introduced himself to through his lovely white eyes and his disarming smile.
Rashmakan was a Ugandan Asian thrown out of his country of birth thanks to Idi Amin. He arrived in England knowing very little English but already, just two years on in our school, was making his way up the streamed classes in all the core subjects.
He was a great wheeler dealer. He was always in the schoolyard selling pencils 3 for 20p which he had bought no doubt for a lot less at his uncle's corner shop. Sometimes he'd be running a raffle of dubious legality, dubious prizes and even more dubious winners. "1 ticket for 10p or you can have a strip for just 30p" he'd say. "Just 3 10ps that's all" was his closing pitch.
There was something about Rashmakan that you instinctively knew he was destined to be successful and make it rich. Most likely very rich and have the last laugh on us all. But he had one drawback in most peoples' eyes. He was a "Paki". It made no difference when he explained that he was born in Uganda a place about as far away from Pakistan as England was. He looked different and sounded it too and that made everyone feel uncomfortable and that meant he received all sorts of shameful racist abuse.
There was just one other Ugandan Asian in the school called Narendeh Savjani. The two had been good friends but fallen out and never spoke to each other which struck me as a pity. Despite whatever it was that had driven them apart they still kept their integrity which always impressed me. Each would simply say of the other "I've fallen out with him and we don't speak anymore". Nothing more.
One winter's day Rashmakhan tripped and fell into a puddle in the schoolyard where a drain had blocked. It wasn't large and probably no deeper than 10cm. He had fallen in face down and was clearly concussed because he didn't move. No bastard would pluck him out either. He said afterwards that he nearly drowned. And he was right.
But where are you now Rashmakhan Popat (that's P O P A T) and how loud are you laughing?
Thursday, 23 April 2009
Day 41 24 April 09 Twitter, Blogger, Hiker
An interesting weekend beckons. Charity dinner tonight at the Wellie Park, Belfast. Tomorrow I hike up and hopefully down Slieve Donard. Sunday has already been designated "Twitterday" when I sit down and study this damned thing and work out how best to use it for social and business purposes. It's not really what I would like to be doing at the weekend but so far I've every reason to be optimistic that it will happen. I've had no invites from friends with other ideas, the weatherforecast is bad so I'll not be tempted to go surfing and the long grass at the front of my house can wait a week longer.
I might also throw onto my to-do list for Sunday "Blogging Strategy". I've yet to crack this. It'll be great for Google purposes if some of this blog was sucked onto the Home Page of the Legal-Island web site. But who visting Legal-Island.com wants to read about my trips up and down a swimming pool and hikes up and down a mountain? Oh the things that torture my mind...
I might also throw onto my to-do list for Sunday "Blogging Strategy". I've yet to crack this. It'll be great for Google purposes if some of this blog was sucked onto the Home Page of the Legal-Island web site. But who visting Legal-Island.com wants to read about my trips up and down a swimming pool and hikes up and down a mountain? Oh the things that torture my mind...
Day 40 23 April 09
There was mayhem in the Antrim swimming pool at 7.45a.m.. There were 7 early birds all keen and ready to go up and down and up and down. However, we weren't allowed in because although there were two attendants it wasn't enough apparently to watch the magnificent seven so we waited for employee number 3 to show.
Trying to get my head around Twitter at the moment and how best to use it for business purposes.
Trying to get my head around Twitter at the moment and how best to use it for business purposes.
Wednesday, 22 April 2009
Day 39 22 April
At a conference in Dublin enjoying the throws of Investigations. Hoping to head home early so as to be ready for The Apprentice. Come on Ben!
Tuesday, 21 April 2009
Day 38 21 April 09 - Spending habits in Tesco & Africa
I'm still holding out. I still have no Tesco club card. I plan to be the only one left on the planet that the huge TESCO PC can't find to make its data perfect. But it's getting harder. This morning it went like this "Do you have a Tesco Club card?" - "No I'dont". "Would you like one?" - "No, thank you". "You might as well..." "No thank you I have enough cards as it is". "Here I'll give you a form anyway".
I wonder how much time over a whole year I might save if I do complete and return the form? May be a full half day or just enough time everyday to write a marginally longer blog about nothing in particular. Makes you think doesn't it?
Finished reading "The State of Africa" last night. A mammoth book of over 1,000 pages. I started it last December lest you think I'm a fast reader. It recounts some of the most disgraceful practices of mankind I've ever read. Aside from all the dreadful slaughter of millions in countries such as Rwanda it describes how many politicians came to power in African countries mainly after the second world war on anti-corruption tickets. Almost all of them without exception then went on to plunder the wealth of the country for their own gain. While thousands lived on nothing and often starved many leaders lived lifestyles that would have made even Russian billionaires of today look like they had conversative spending habits. Disgusting, obscene, gross, pornographic. What other words will do?
I wonder how much time over a whole year I might save if I do complete and return the form? May be a full half day or just enough time everyday to write a marginally longer blog about nothing in particular. Makes you think doesn't it?
Finished reading "The State of Africa" last night. A mammoth book of over 1,000 pages. I started it last December lest you think I'm a fast reader. It recounts some of the most disgraceful practices of mankind I've ever read. Aside from all the dreadful slaughter of millions in countries such as Rwanda it describes how many politicians came to power in African countries mainly after the second world war on anti-corruption tickets. Almost all of them without exception then went on to plunder the wealth of the country for their own gain. While thousands lived on nothing and often starved many leaders lived lifestyles that would have made even Russian billionaires of today look like they had conversative spending habits. Disgusting, obscene, gross, pornographic. What other words will do?
Monday, 20 April 2009
Day 37 20 April 09
Wow! Those Praziquantel drugs are sensational. I've no idea if they prevent whatever it is that lurks in Lake Malawi but the dreams that go with them are something else. It was like 54inch flat screen high definition stuff all last night amid more colours than on a Dulux information sheet.
Last night was a strange cultural mix. First Carmen the Opera in Belfast. Magical. Then it was Louis Theroux's excursion round a sex offenders rehab centre in America. Disturbing.
Big week ahead must attend to it...
Last night was a strange cultural mix. First Carmen the Opera in Belfast. Magical. Then it was Louis Theroux's excursion round a sex offenders rehab centre in America. Disturbing.
Big week ahead must attend to it...
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