Of Patently Long Mornings

I'm off to see a patent attorney today or at least the Northern Ireland equivalent of one. I want to see if someone has already come up with and protected an idea which I think could be worth a fortune. I can't believe someone hasn't thought of it yet so I'm not getting my hopes up. But then I don't see it in the market place either so occasionally I fill up with excitement thinking there is still this gaping hole in the market that Mr P and his merry folk could fill. Guess I'll know by lunch time today.

Could be a long morning....

No.428 Of Disfunctional Snowmen

I was snowed in this morning. The only way I could get out was by driving forward and over my next door neighbour's garden. I wouldn't have felt so bad if the good lady doesn't suffer from OCD. But she does and the sight of two large tyre tracks across her lawn and drive wont do much to put her in a cheerful mood I know when she finally makes it out the house with the kids this morning. Worse still I drove over her kids' snowman. It wasn't deliberate. The back of the car just swung round taking out all in it's path including Mr Snowman. Not a great start to the day you might say.

The scenery at the moment is just beautiful. I don't think Antrim has ever looked so good. It's a shame we can't really function in it..

No.427 Of Banking on a Call

My bank manager is trying hard to get hold of me at the moment. She's phoned three times and even taken to emailing me now. I've not responded. It's childish I know but I'm rather enjoying the ball being on the other foot. For so long I'd phone a bank and get through to a call centre who would take a message and tell me that the appropriate person would call. But they never did. So my bank manager can wait, or write or fax or just have a Merry Christmas and I'll catch her in the New Year.

No.431 Of Wintertime Bathing in Tents

I went to see the fabulous La Soiree on Friday night at the South Bank, London. It consists of a collection of acts the likes of which you're unlikely to see anywhere else in London. Done in Burlesque style in a tent and opened with Herb Albert music you know immediately that this night is going to be quite unlike any other you've experienced.

The evening finished with David O'Mer a former champion gymnast and his now famous bath gymnastics. This has to be the most sexy performance this staunch heterosexual has ever seen a man or, indeed, a woman do. It's explosively sensual, artistic and beautiful something I'm sure the row full of gay men sat nearby would attest to.

Good show La Soiree. Good show.

No.430 Of Coming Home and Going Away

It's not coming home : the football world cup that is. And thank goodness. It's bad enough getting over the dashed unrealistic hopes that we could ever win the thing again each time we lose and convincingly on the world stage - but double the pain when it's on home soil.

I'm in London at the moment. It's a great time to be here. It's not that busy because it's too cold for many to venture outdoors and some just didn't bother at all to fly into the capital with the weather reports as bad as they were. My strategy was to play the long game expect delay and lots of moaning people but go prepared and slowly but gradually I'll get to where I'm going. So far it's worked. Yes I did have a three hour delay at the airport but I had my Lord Sugar book with me and got through a good 200 pages before we took to the air. I like that man and what he's done but I'm struggling to continue reading his book. It doesn't flow like James Caan's book or Theo Paphitis's for that matter but hey lets hope, like the weather, it will pick up.

No.430 Of Extremes & Extreme Embarrassment

It was Baltic cold when I got into the car this morning and the Z4 seemed to slip and slide its way out of the development before it managed to get any decent grip on the road outside.

Last night I had fallen asleep listening to the BBC World Service. The radio woke me this morning at about 4a.m.. There was a programme on about extremes in the world. The reporter was in a desert somewhere in East Africa which apparently is the hottest inhabited spot in the world regularly clocking 55 degrees centigrade. Later, the same reporter was in a small town in Siberia which is the coldest town in the world having once experienced -71.2 degrees and regularly clocking -50. She said the town folk seem to get use to it. The kids pile into the school buses just like anywhere else only all you can see of them as the bus goes by in the morning is lots of pairs of eyes peering through woollen face masks and oversized hoods

In the past 3 days the UK has seen -6 degrees and an average of 10cms of snow and it's crippled us. I wonder if any Russian or African journalists come over here and to report that news back home.

No.429 Of Mainly Alistair Campbell

I was at a black tie dinner last night with master communicator Alistair Campbell. Whenever I go to these events I never know who is going to turn up. By that I mean what sort of mood I'll be in. Sometimes I love the networking opportunities each dinner presents and I work the room until my wallet can't take any more cards. On other occasions I look around and see mainly the same faces, mainly men looking mainly like each other and I wonder why I bother attending such events. Last night I was angling toward the latter type of mood and person but was saved by having great company sat either side of me at the table.

Campbell was superb. He seems to be able to pass on amusing stories and useful advice and wisdom he has acquired from working closely with some of the greatest leaders of the day whilst remaining grounded, modest and honest. Mighty.