Improving with age

Smartpass

2011-07-01T14:44:00.000-07:00

Just the ticket!

Yes, I have got one! A senior citizen's travelcard. It's called a Smartpass and I am learning to be smart with it. It can be used on buses and trains and I have begun organising myself to synchronise with local timetables.
You can apply for the pass when you reach a "certain age" and so it has its good and not so good points. Among the latter is the digital confirmation that you are getting on a bit. Each ticket shows the pass's expiry date. I hope for many renewals!
When I decided to use it for the first time a couple of weeks ago, I made my way to the bus stop close to where I live. Waiting for the bus to arrive, I thought I'm too young for one of these. At that moment a lorry pulled up in front of a nearby undertakers. The driver was delivering coffins!! The lorry was full of them and I thought that a lot of smartpasses must have reached their expiry date!
I presented the pass to the bus driver and asked for a ticket. That's not how it works. What you are supposed to do is to place your card on an electronic reader in front of the driver and say where you want to go. S/he then hits some keys, there's a "whirr" and you tear off a ticket. The more practised travellers don't bother to take their cards from their wallets or purses. The driver's device is sophisticated enough to be able to read the data through the holder and distinguish your eligibility from all the other cards you have. I haven't done that yet, preferring to show that I am new to all of this old stuff.
What strikes me most is the number of senior folks using the transport system. The faces and personalities are becoming familiar and I sense their looks of recognition. Like the sensor reading through wallets I have picked up on the details of overheard conversations - visits to doctors, health centres and hospitals. Stories of this and that ailment punctuated with coughs and sneezes and yes, the occasional funny stories and bursts of laughter. Characters.
Some close friends from younger days have got the smarts and joined this senior travel set. We have plans to travel as a group to the furthest point on the rail network, get our lunch and return home. No doubt, other travellers will overhear a lot of sense. BUT, if talk turns to aches or pains and if anyone clears their throat, I'll be asking, "Is that you coffin?"

Has it really been so long?

2011-05-13T16:56:00.000-07:00

It's been ages since I offered a blog post on Improving with Age. It's not that there is little happening. There has been plenty going on. A trip to Glenariff in the Glens of Antrim with friends, great evenings out with a good deal of wining and dining. This past week saw local Assembly and Council elections along with a referendum on an alternative voting system.

I'll press fingers to keypad to share some memorable moments over the days ahead.

Flexing mussels: Dundrum style

2010-09-01T16:33:00.000-07:00

Mussels - served with Lemon and Bay

A day off and nice weather called for a short trip to the coast. It was a while since we had been down to Murlough Bay at Dundrum and so we set off. Apart from the Castle, Dundrum's other attraction is the Mourne Seafood Bar. I prefer this place to its Belfast counterpart, probably because of its proximity to the sea. I love its wooden floor and captain's chairs. Art reflecting coastal themes hangs all around from picture rails but today the menu was what we wanted to see. Plenty of choice but what we were really after this lunchtime were mussels. There were four different styles on offer: White wine, garlic and cream; Cider braised; Indian curry and Lemon and bay. There were three of us and we each had a different pot - the Indian curry version will live to fight another day.
Mine was the Lemon and bay and as soon as the server lifted the lid of the black enamelled pot I leaned forward to catch the steamy aroma - a bit like a facial sauna.
The lemon was sliced into julienne strips and the bay leaves were broken into fragrant fragments. I tucked in.
I like to eat mussels by using an empty whole shell as a set of pincers; this I find much more effective than a fork. We had ordered some chips as a side. Moules frites. A family favourite, calling up memories of France. We know what we like.
Inevitably we recounted the story of how a trendy Belfast restaurant had served up a pot of mussels with the chips on top - disguising the mussels, making the chips soggy and in the end effectively ruining the dish. "They're under the chips", was the response to "where are the mussels?" "That's how we do it here". No such nonsense at Mourne Seafood Bar. The mussels were visible and plump, the chips were lovely and so too were the accompanying breads which we used to soak up the cooking liquour.
Murlough was calling and we headed on to the nearby National Trust property. A boardwalk winds its way through the sand dunes and down to a beach of pebbles and fine sand. It was almost deserted in the warm sunshine. We sat for a while, taking in the air and the rhythm of the waves.
Nothing too energetic - we had already flexed our mussels.

Belfast Piano - Play me, I'm yours!

2010-08-20T15:57:00.000-07:00

It's great to see the brightly painted pianos that have recently been positioned in various streets around Belfast. Old, upright instruments have been given a new lease of life and passers-by are encouraged to stop, play a tune or simply sound a few notes.
Luke Jerram is the artist behind the Play Me - I'm Yours project and he has already installed pianos in several cities around the world. It's now the turn of Belfast Pianos 2010 . The one, pictured, is located in Commercial Court which runs between Donegall Street and Hill Street in the Cathedral Quarter. I love this little street, home to Printers Cafe-Bar, the Duke of York Pub and The Dark Horse Coffee House. I featured the street, which has strong family connections, in an earlier post - Culture Night, Belfast and I am grateful to the local businesses that are working so hard to revive this once vibrant area. Hanging baskets and Belfast sinks, full of plants, provide splashes of colour throughout the year and so the funky piano fitted in perfectly. There are two pianos in the Cathedral Quarter - they bring a sense of optimism and fun.
It was a particular pleasure to be in the company of friend who seeing the piano, waited his turn, sat down and played a piece he had composed himself. People, locals and tourists, looked on and listened, joining in the bit of fun. Belfast, like the piano, also seemed to be saying - Play me, I'm yours!

Saint-Emilion - Message in a bottle

2010-08-18T16:19:00.000-07:00

Château Franc-Pourret, 1981

News programmes these days seem to be full of claim and counter-claim about the budget deficit and the effect of cuts in public spending. Old certainties such as buying property seem no longer to apply as house prices fall, leaving some in the position of negative equity. Canny investors suggest putting money into art purchases and others into buying and cellaring fine wine.

Back in 2000, I invested in some wine. It was more of an emotional decision than a financial one because I only bought one bottle. Not any old bottle mind you! It was a Saint-Emilion Grand Cru from the Château Franc-Pourret, belonging to the Ouzoulias family. Its vintage is 1981.

Now 1981 is special because it was the year in which we got married.

The wine was already 19 years old when we visited the lovely medieval town of Saint-Emilion. We had family lunch in the square and still had some hours to spend before continuing our homeward journey. I had visited the town before in the 1970s, when access to the monolithic church was much freer than now. I distinctly recall remaining inside at the end of a short tour and feeling very much at ease in the place. There was no visit to the church on this occasion but we did pay our respects to one of the many shops selling high-end wine from the appellation. The merchant, intent on selling the bottle, assured us that it was excellent value and would continue improving with age. He even offered to buy it back at some future date provided that we had kept it properly. I wonder how he would know. Well, we bought it.

I said it was an emotional investment and we felt confident that we could keep it until 2006 when it and our marriage would be twenty-five years old. It would, we thought, provide an appropriate focal point for an anniversary dinner.

We didn't drink it and it is still there lying on its soft carton inlay in its stout wooden box. Somehow, it has managed to survive those stressful evenings when there was nothing else to pour into a relaxing glass.

Apparently it is still going strong. I looked it up on the internet and it scores16 out of 20. I don't know its current value as I would have to write to the château for a price but I figure I made a good investment.

Here's the funny thing, I have never tasted the wine! But by not opening it, I risk denying it its potential. It was made for drinking so we will just have to fix another date and keep to it next time. I have uncorked a plan!

Surfing for details of the wine has revealed an interesting association. Catherine Ouzoulias provides luxury accommodation at the Château-Franc Pourret and offers tastings. It looks a very grand and elegant place and from the 5-star reviews she gets, sounds like a great place to stay. I wonder would she mind us bringing the wine back to its birthplace and letting us drink it there! We might just need a second bottle.

post originally published in my francofiled blog

Writer's chair, Rathlin Island

2010-08-14T16:21:00.000-07:00

On a weekend break in Ballycastle, we thought it would be a good idea to spend sometime on Rathlin Island. So we parked the car at the Marconi memorial and went to get tickets for the fast ferry service. Others had the same idea and the fast boat was full. So an hour later than planned we crossed to Rathlin on the older, slower boat. That was a treat! There were only a couple of vehicles on board and on both sides of these the crew placed some rows of plastic chairs, tethered in line.
On landing we headed straight for the hotel which was hosting an exhibition of local artists. I liked the paintings which seemed to me to portray the remoteness of the island through the seasons.
We had only planned to stay a couple of hours and with our later than expected arrival decided it was time to get something to eat. We could see in the distance a brightly decorated house that seemed to have lots of tables and umbrellas out front. We were also attracted by its abundance of flowers and so, as it turned out, were the wasps we found there. The owner of the house was serving teas. Lunch in full sunshine, was large pots of tea, warm fruit scones and jam followed by shortbread.
Moving further along the seafront we could see what looked like a memorial stone but as we got closer we realised it was a large stone chair. The writer's chair. Engraved into the back of the chair were the names of writers of different genres who had attended workshops and events on the island. Familiar names - wordsmiths - novelists, poets, singer songwriters. Did they each take their place in the chair and think about their craft? Like the wishing chair at the Giant's Causeway did someone bring to mind a hope or an ambition for their writing?
The thought occured that a blogger might take inspiration from such illustrious company - that the words of previous sitters might rub off and stick.
On the way back, this time to the modern, sleek, fast ferry we passed a plaque celebrating the first radio broadcast in 1898 by Marconi. Rathlin should consider hosting a podcaster convention. The place has a connection with communication.

Bush radio

2010-08-02T15:13:00.000-07:00

I have been getting a lot use use from my iPod Touch these past few months. Now with a new docking station and 100 watt speakers the sound has never been better. It's a far cry from the late 50s when the sound source in our living room was the brown bakelite Bush radio, with its fabric flex and 15 amp round-pin plug. I saw one in a London pub recently, sitting high on a shelf, dusty, unused, a bric a brac oddity from a bygone age.

As a child, I loved tuning that radio's dials to pick up long wave stations with exotic names, Warsaw, Oslo, Moscow and Allouis - (I got to Allouis, many years later when I lived near Bourges in central France). There was better reception on the medium wave band, where we got to listen to Luxemb'g and Radio Eireann, along with those old BBC stations, the Light programme and the Home Service. Inevitably, the fixed bakelite radio gave way to the transistor and portability. I still loved it though and when a college friend suggested he replace the valves with transistors I jumped at the chance and handed the radio over for an upgrade. I never saw it again. Perhaps it made its way to a shelf in a London pub.

I have vivid recollections of the BBC programmes from back then: Children's Favourites, Mrs Dale's Diary and of course, the Archers. Old Walter Gabriel's voice fairly boomed out of and seemed to suit the bakelite.

I learned recently of a company that overhauls and sells these old radios. It has some handsome models on its website. I will be checking, for much as I love my new iPod, I still hanker after a bakelite Bush.

They'll be close to 60 years old now. I wonder if they still pick up Workers' Playtime.

The Wallace Collection, Hertford House

2010-05-04T16:06:00.000-07:00

A light rain made us hurry our steps up Bond Street, past the tempting array of small restaurants and into Manchester Square to Hertford House, home of the Wallace Collection.

We had learned much about Sir Richard, son of the fourth Marquess of Hertford at various events organised by the Richard Wallace Trust (Lisburn) and this was our first time at his London home. We recognised the building immediately as it bears very close resemblance to his home, Castle House in Lisburn, now occupied by the South Eastern Regional College.

Another clear sign was the presence of a Wallace Fountain to the right of the entrance. We had arrived. Inside, what struck most was the sumptuous elegance of the place. A gorgeous red carpeted staircase with marble columns on each side. We went upstairs leaving the armoury collection for another time. There were several galleries. Art everywhere. And left to us as a philanthropic legacy. Wow!

Boucher's The Rising of the Sun (1753) caught my attention and kept it! Then I discovered the treasure of Ruben's Rainbow Landscape (1635). The Laughing Cavalier (1624) by Franz Hals had been the subject of a hugely expensive bidding war between Sir Richard and the Rothchilds. We won!

The Wallace Collection is a very visit-able gallery. Compact enough for a short tour but large enough for sustained and lengthy inspection. We only had a couple of hours and had promised ourselves a visit to the courtyard restaurant and cafe for a pot of tea. It was an elegant and leisurely affair. Indulgent? Sure, but not extravagant. We had refreshed our imagination in the galleries and now it was time to satisfy the sense of taste. We left reluctantly.

It was a long overdue first visit.

We will go again soon and stay longer next time.

Palmes Académiques: French Ambassador's Residence

2010-05-03T03:43:00.000-07:00

Kensington Palace Gardens, backing on to the grounds of the Palace itself, is an impressive avenue of varied architecture, the London homes of many of the world’s ambassadors. I had come, on Monday 29 March 2010, with my family and some friends to the French Ambassador’s Residence for a ceremony in which, along with a dozen others, I was to be decorated as a Chevalier in the Ordre des Palmes Académiques for services rendered to French culture.

We were made to feel very much at home, although I was a bit anxious as I knew that I had to make a short speech to the gathering later on. The welcome glass of a crisp white wine helped to steady the nerves and I was able to relax into the occasion.

The Residence is a beautiful, elegant home embellished with marble busts and tapestry. The salon being used for the ceremony was infused with a soft purple light accentuating the colour of the palme’s ribbon. The Ambassador, a charming man, immaculately dressed, introduced himself and welcomed us to his home.

The moment had arrived. A gendarme picked up a cushion on which the palmes were resting and took up a stage right position. The recipients were also invited to take their place on the left and the ceremony began.

The ambassador spoke first in English, explaining the history of the palmes. Then, he called forward each person in turn to be decorated. Speaking in French this time he addressed the recipient directly summarising the contribution the person had made. Then picking up a palme from the cushion he presented it in the name of the French Minister of Education, pinned it on and following the formal embrace invited each to speak.

I spoke of the honour France had bestowed on me and through me on my family, colleagues, teachers and students who share a love of all things French.

The Champagne was opened and as canapés were served, the buzz of conversation increased. The Ambassador joined each group in turn and happily posed for pictures. We talked about him coming to Belfast... and then gradually and gently it was over.

It is an evening that I will always remember and an honour that I will always cherish.

I see it not as a culmination of my work but as an invitation to do even more.

It is a pleasure to accept.

Bloglag

2010-04-27T15:52:00.000-07:00

So much for the good intentions to keep my blog up-to-date. When I started, I aimed to free the time and clear the space but I have been busy being busy.

Although the dust has settled on our recent air travel disruption, I now find myself sitting in Edinburgh airport. My flight to Belfast has been delayed. What better time and place to deal with the bloglag and get up to date?

Much has happened since my last post, including a visit to the French Ambassador’s Residence in London for an award ceremony; a long overdue first visit to the Wallace Collection in Hertford House, Sir Richard's London home; afternoon tea in the Merchant Hotel, Belfast; a sumptuous dinner in the Signet Library in Parliament Square, Edinburgh and a visit to the National Gallery of Scotland to take in its impressionist and dance exhibitions.

Listing the experiences doesn’t get me off my self-imposed hook though and so the sequence above is a declaration of blog intent to write and post material in that order.

I give myself a week. If I run I might just stand still.

Humanity in the frame

2010-04-07T17:02:00.000-07:00

When I was asked recently to attend a seminar in Warwick University I agreed readily. I knew the venue, the Scarman Conference Centre, having been there once before. I recalled a picture I had seen on my first visit. It had made an impression on me then that has stayed with me ever since. I hoped that there would be space in the day to see it again. I was pleased to see that it was still there, displayed in the main hospitality area.

It is a study for a final portrait of Lord Scarman painted by the artist Tom Phillips.

Lord Scarman died in 2004 at the age of 93. He is remembered for presiding over the enquiry into the Brixton Riots of 1981 but I recall his earlier visit to Belfast in 1969 when he had conducted an enquiry into an aspect of our own “Troubles”.

The study for the portrait – I have not yet seen the final - conveys to me a sense of: Sharpness. Flint. Alertness. Decision.

Around the perimeter framing the image is a set of words, quoted from Thomas Paine’s On the Rights of Man. I think these must have been a motto for Scarman and they certainly speak to today when some legal decisions are openly criticised as out of touch, mistaken or misunderstood. Paine wrote, “I had rather record a thousand errors inspired by humanity than one dictated by a justice too severe”.

I like that humanity motive.

I like the idea of taking the time to get things right. The artist completed a study for his final portrait - thinking about it? Getting it right?

I like considered, reflective and wise judgements and get worried when I hear or read opinion formers calling for retribution in response to some high profile crime.

Cool heads are needed, not knee-jerk reactions that could lead to a justice too severe.

Found in translation

2010-02-18T16:34:00.001-08:00

I find it hard to part with books and have several old texts from my school days. One such is a book of French Translation Passages. It dates from the late 1960s and when I found it again recently I flicked through to an extract that has come to mind several times over the years since.
I have the book beside me now, open at Passage #42, relating to the writer, Anatole France.
The extract appeals to me. In summary it refers to a charming, greying man, nearly 70 but with a young disposition. Someone whose age suited him and who in the salon preferred to give way rather than argue.
Described as a seductive speaker, drawing on literary references, he disliked stubborn, argumentative people, saying about them : - They think it is important to be right!
That sounds to me now like good role model behaviour. I wonder if I also thought that as the 17-year old translating the piece for the first time.
As I engaged in the lengthy, technical process of translation back then I wonder if those descriptions of Anatole France slipped under the radar to find a home in my unconscious mind where they continue to play their part in formulating my present day values and beliefs. A one time learning that has lasted for life.

The material for translation was selected from Rosny, JH. (1927) Mémoires de la Vie Littéraire, Crès, Paris. It has a new lease of life with an electronic makeover. My search engine has just turned it up as an e-book and I had no difficulty locating the extract on Anatole France!
The translation book, on the other hand, is showing signs of age now.

Its age suits it.

Living the 80:20 Thanks Pareto

2010-02-02T16:12:00.000-08:00

It has been a hectic period these past weeks. Plenty to do and not much time to do it. That goes for both my working and personal life and so my mind has turned to how to get more done in less time. Taking the time to think about what needs to get done; planning and organising it; linking it with other tasks to create some synergy, is proving to be highly productive. And fun. Being selective and concentrating on the essential is clearly the skill to acquire and I have been learning how to do that from some of my favourite radio broadcasters. Two of these provide podcast versions of their weekly programmes. Each podcast is an edited, highlighted version of their main programme. In one case a typical 45 minute programme is 10 minutes shorter while the other 100 minute show is halved to 50. Since it's a download I get to listen when I want and that's usually when driving. Time-shifting and gear-shifting; learning in the traffic queue - that's synergy in the downtime. Pareto, who is credited with formulating the 80:20 rule might have approved.

He might also have liked one of those hard-disc TV recorders. We have one and it's great for watching those programmes with commercial breaks that we have recorded. Come the ad break, I fast forward at 30X speed and zap through the commercials.

Remote control - now there's a metaphor for deleting the dross, fast-forwarding the trivial and selecting the essential.

Blue Moon at New Year's Eve

2009-12-31T10:52:00.000-08:00

I remember as a child wondering what the year 2000 would be like. I think I expected to be still around but figured I would be very old. Well its 10 years further on from the millennium and I'm still hanging in there - Improving with age ;-)

It's New Year's Eve and the noughties are about to give way to a new decade. News programmes have reviewed the past ten years and we carry forward the legacies, good and bad, of the decade. Tens(e) years ahead then as we sort those out.

It's clear and very cold this evening. There's a blue moon - that's two full moons in one month. Although blue moons happen every couple of years, the next New Year's Eve blue moon won't happen until 2028. I hope to be around but just in case I'll be raising a glass of champagne to this one at midnight. I hope it's an auspicious start to 2010. We have a lot to put right this decade.

Care, Courtesy and Consideration

2009-12-12T01:08:00.000-08:00

While clearing out some papers, I found my old driving licence. It goes back nearly 40 years so that's a long time driving. On the back of those old licences was some advice for the holder. The message reads: "Care, Courtesy, Consideration on the roads Saves Lives".

Christmas shopping trips are now under way and it seems that lots of motorists are in a hurry - weaving in and out, racing to overtake and braking hard at the next red light. Traffic reports frequently warn of delays associated with accidents and breakdowns.

For all our sakes, we just need to take extra care. And in the spirit of Christmas wouldn't it be courteous to acknowledge those drivers who show us consideration by signalling their intentions, leaving space or slowing up to let us join the traffic ahead of them? Wouldn't it be considerate of us to do that for others? I sometimes get annoyed when others fail to acknowledge my light flashing moments of courtesy. Perhaps though their heads were so full they genuinely didn't notice. That's a signal to be even more considerate and patient. Have you ever noticed that when we use care, courtesy and consideration on the roads the drive is a little easier and smoother? I may have been driving for nearly 40 years but I know that there is still room for improvement with those three values. "C" you on the road!

Waterspill

2009-12-01T15:07:00.000-08:00

The antisocial youngsters have been at it again. Now that the vacant homes in our street are little more than burnt out shells, they turned their attention tonight to opening a water main. The water gushed for nearly three hours until the services team arrived. Fascinated at how they would deal with the problem, I watched with interest. I didn't need to wait long. It took them about 15 seconds to shut the water off!

They placed a large, raised, square board over the gush. The water then flowed from all sides under the board leaving them room to insert their key and stop the flow.
They said the board was the brainchild of one of their colleagues. They call it their surfboard. A simple tool and very effective. They capped the water valve so that we wont be troubled in this way again. Sadly someone else is likely to have the bother.
It seems to me that at the heart of anti-social behaviour is a lack of awareness of responsibility. However, irresponsibility is not solely a characteristic of the young.
We need to encourage greater responsibility personally, locally and globally.
Tonight, I am glad that the water service turned up and turned off! I hope they come up with more smart ideas to make our society more "response-able". We need to do something to turn back the current tide.

Doing the work. Taking the credit.

2009-10-23T15:28:00.000-07:00

I was at a school prize-giving last night and got a sense of a place where pupils and teachers were working closely together to build and extend their learning community. A wide range of results, not only academic, was reported and the tone of the evening was optimistic and upbeat. People were clearly doing the work and getting the credit.
Nationally, postal workers are taking industrial action. Staff interviewed on the radio say that they are expected to do extra duties and work longer hours for the same pay. Management stresses the need for modernisation to keep the Royal Mail viable. Has the dispute arisen because work and credit have got out of balance?
The relationship between these two factors is also affected when some people do the work while others take the credit. Indira Gandhi shared the wisdom of her grandfather on this point. He told her that there were two groups of people in the world, those who do the work and those who take the credit. His advice was to always strive to be in the first group as there would be much less competition!
I'm following that advice and letting the work speak for itself.

Solving or salving?

2009-10-05T16:10:00.000-07:00

I had a very enjoyable meal when in Newcastle-upon-Tyne last week. When settling the bill the server asked if I would add a little extra to help with the Restaurants Against Hunger campaign in which they were taking part. October 16 has been designated as World Food Day and the UK wide fund-raiser aims to let diners make a contribution simply by dining out. The question is whether it will solve the problem of child hunger or salve the diner's conscience?
I think it's a good campaign and wish it well. However I checked out the website hyperlinked above and could only find one Northern Ireland restaurant taking part. The owners should be complimented. Where are the others? Come on!
I also wonder what else we might do. Why not charge £££ for a bowl of plain boiled rice or an energy biscuit.
That would also make the point and maybe hit the wallet more.

Culture Night Belfast

2009-09-26T00:13:00.000-07:00

Friday 25 September. Belfast's Cathedral Quarter buzzed with laughter, music and song last night as it played host to Culture Night. Artists, musicians and performers showcased their talents in streets and venues all around this old part of the city. The weather was mild and dry and people had turned out in their hundreds. Commercial Court, an entry off Donegall Street, reminded us of a continental street scene with people eating and drinking outside. We ate in Printers Cafe Bar, packed inside and out by people clearly caught up in the positive spirit of the event. We moved on to a nearby carpark, that had been transformed by Friends of the Earth into a supervised bike park doubling up as a tealight-in-a-jar lit venue for singer songwriters.
Surprises were everywhere. On turning one corner we bumped into a differently-abled choir. They were brilliant and got us all engaged in joining in and keeping time. They performed an African piece during which even they were surprised when a woman from Zimbabwe clearly delighted at seeing her own culture represented joined them at the front, dancing and singing with those gorgeous ululations that won the appreciation of the ever-growing audience. There was much, much more.
Two things strike me about the event. The artists and artisans were anchored to their venue on our behalf. Each was a strand to this weave of cultural diversity. We got to see the mesh and the whole picture, they didn't. But without them and their individual contributions the effect would have been so much less. So thank you to them.
My second thought is that I have rambled these streets since early childhood, our family shop was there and my school. I have watched its decline over the years and its recent steps to recovery. I have never seen the area so vibrant as I did last night. So thank you to the organisers. Please. Bring it on again!

A Magical Mystery Tour

2009-09-17T16:33:00.000-07:00

It was our son's 18th birthday earlier this month and we wondered how we might surprise him with a memorable present. He loves the Beatles and so we decided a trip to Liverpool would be just the ticket to ride! We packed his case and said nothing until 5.30am when we woke him up to tell him he was going on a mystery tour.
Excitement? - you bet!
We did the tourist thing and visited places where the Fab4 grew up, met and performed. We booked the Magical Mystery Tour bus, with a terrific guide who had all the passengers sing Happy Birthday in their various languages and played the Beatles song " they say it's your birthday!" to our son's embarrassment but obvious delight.
It was magical to travel down Penny Lane imagining the pretty nurses and the banker; stopping at Strawberry Field and downing a drink at the Cavern Club on Mathew Street. We spent most of the next day at The Beatles Story - an excellent permanent exhibition on the Albert Dock.
Our weekend trip coincided with the 40th anniversary of the Beatles break-up and there was a lot of media hype surrounding the release of their remastered recordings - some in mono! We caught Beatlemania and arrived back in Belfast with all sorts of merchandise. All in all it was a most memorable and enjoyable family break.
Their song, In My Life, includes the words, "there are places I remember" - Liverpool is one of them.
And the music is improving with age.

Perceptual Positions: to see ourselves as others see us

2009-07-23T12:12:00.000-07:00

Robert Burns composed his "To a louse" having observed the creature strolling around the collar of an elegantly dressed woman who was totally unaware of her less than fashionable accessory. In his poem he wrote:
"O wad some Pow'r the giftie gie us, To see oursels as others see us!"
Thinking about Burns's words, I wonder how many times there have been, when I have failed to notice how my mood, responses and actions have appeared to others.
A lack of awareness.
Then I am aware of other times when things didn't go as well as I had planned. How must my behaviour have looked and sounded? What if I had behaved differently? Been more resourceful? That raises the question of how to learn from such situations?
NLP offers the gift of seeing ourselves as others see us in the form of Perceptual Positions. The techniques are described in this Wikipedia item. Essentially we are invited to see not only from our own position, but from a second, third and even more positions. The technique allows us to revisit a situation and to learn from it. It is also useful in planning to be more resourceful in a given situation.
One of the great things about being an NLP practitioner is that you get to help others help themselves to more resourceful states. It's great to sense that subtle shift when a different perceptual position changes someone's subjective experience of an event.
So being at a "louse" end, I am off to plan an upcoming meeting.

The Salmon of Knowledge

2009-06-25T15:44:00.000-07:00

Belfast has been enjoying a spell of warm and sunny weather this past week. My office backs onto the River Lagan near the docks and during a break I went to cool off by the river. I was surprised to see, for the first time there, a man fishing and decided to chat. He told me that he was fishing for mackeral. "A scavenger fish," I said. "Not at all," came the reply, "that's a myth. It doesn't deserve that reputation" and he went on to talk about its many fine qualities. He told me that, because of its cleaner water, fish have been returning to the Lagan. He was particularly delighted that salmon are also making their way back with a trap-counter nearby registering a thousand fish. As a fisherman, he was hopeful for the future.

There is a local legend about Finn MacCumhaill and the Salmon of Knowledge. The story goes that the salmon had gleaned all the wisdom of the world and had been given to Finn to cook. While he was cooking it, Finn burned his finger. When sucking on his finger to cool it down, he gained all the wisdom of the world.

News from Belfast has been dominated recently by some racist incidents. Many feel that the actions of a small band of troublemakers have damaged the reputation of the city as a welcoming place.

Like the mackeral, we have many fine qualities and will need to work hard to restore our reputation. We have burned our fingers on the heat of intolerance.

I hope that on sucking them, we get some wisdom and that the salmon will keep coming back.

The Refugee Woman and Child - 1974

2009-06-17T14:56:00.000-07:00

I have been disturbed and ashamed at the scenes of Romanian families being forced from their homes to find refuge in a local church hall and a leisure centre. The news this evening reports that they have now gone to an undisclosed safe place with police protection.

Refugees from Belfast, 2009.

35 years ago I was living in a town in the centre of France. Large numbers of refugees had come to Europe from Chile following Pinochet's military coup. Those I saw appeared to have very little and one meeting is seared into my memory.

It was during Sunday mass and a refugee woman carrying a small child came into the church. She walked directly to the altar and asked the priest for money. An uncomfortably direct appeal. The priest took her to the side and I watched as he discreetly give her some money. Relief.

Then she turned and walked down the aisle holding out her hand in turn to each of the members of that small congregation. Some refused. Then, she came to me..... I can still see her face.

It was a poignant moment. I was disturbed then, still am, and on returning home spent some time putting my thoughts into a poem. Here it is, 35 years later and sadly still relevant.

"The Refugee Woman and Child"

This morning I met the mother of God

As she held out her hand to say

Give me some money for my child in rags

I have asked and been turned away.

I gave her some centimes in loose change

Her eyes questioned,"Is that enough?"

And the paper money in my wallet

Is still there, richly folded up.

And now I think only of that young child

That we are nailing to a tree

"What you do to the least of my brethren,

Then, that so you do unto me".

From 1974 to 2009; from Chile to France; from Romania to Ireland. The more things change, the more they stay the same. Maybe not this time. Chris Tracey.

Morals, Markets and Charity Shops

2009-06-09T15:25:00.001-07:00

I listened this morning to BBC Radio 4's 2009 Reith Lecture. Professor Michael Sandel delivered the first of four lectures on a New Citizenship, this one entitled, Morals and Markets. I found it absorbing; delivered in a calm, reasoned and occasionally self-deprecating way. I was interested enough to want to hear it again and have subscribed to the podcast of the series. It has been in my mind all day. This evening, as we drifted into an evening of passive TV, we watched BBC 2's Mary Queen of Charity Shops. It, too, was absorbing but for different reasons. Mary Portas has set herself the task of remodelling a Save the Children shop to make more money for the charity. The senior volunteers had plenty to say and it became clear that there were two different value propositions at play. One was market driven, the other, occasionally in an opposing stance, was voluntary contribution.

Can we square this circle? I'm with Sandel in as much as I agree that there are some places where market forces should not penetrate. I am keen to listen to and watch the remaining episodes in both series. I am grateful to the BBC for this programming. Both made me think.

Goat's cheese and red pepper tart.

2009-05-20T15:26:00.000-07:00

A colleague retired from work today and so we organised a meal at a local restaurant to mark her departure and wish her well. I opted for a goat's cheese and red pepper tart and was pleased that I did. It was assembled on a crisp, thin pastry base coated in caramelised onion, overlaid with long strips of red pepper and topped with a thick layer of creamy goat's cheese. A salad of mixed leaves, cherry tomatoes and black olives shared the plate. I ate first with my eyes. Then the aroma hit. Followed by taste and texture. The conversation stopped. Silence as we savoured. A simple dish, that filled up the senses.

The lingering smell of charred wood.

2009-05-10T15:19:00.000-07:00

The lovely old house; the vacated property next door has been burnt out. So has the one in front. Fired by vandals. Old buildings that saw families grow. They weathered the tests of time but were not the match of those that would destroy. Flames have taken the memories of happier times, promises, hopes and expectations. All that's left now is the lingering smell of charred wood. And the purpose of the destruction? Who knows? Did the arsonists come to watch the flames? Did they enjoy? A beautiful old house. Ready for the bulldozer. Stinks of uselessness.

Hand-made shoes and the beauty of imperfection

2009-04-22T16:40:00.000-07:00

My uncle Patsy is no longer with us. The Irish News marked his passing with this tribute.

He was a shoemaker, a master of his craft and I still treasure the pair he made for me nearly 40 years ago. The "workshop", as we called it was in the same busy street as my primary school which I started at the age of four. He would often stop what he was doing and come to collect me at hometime carrying me on his shoulders back to the shop. Once there, I would be put "on the leather" for an afternoon nap . This was a wooden rack stacked with hides that would later be cut into soles for the handmade shoes.

The shop was full of the smell of leather, ammonia, beeswax, hemp, heel-ball and French chalk. These were the heady aromas of the shoemaker's craft that even today trigger involuntary memories of past times - "temps perdus".

It was there that I learned about the uniqueness of the handmade brogues - not only from pair to pair but between left shoe and right. The differences might be miniscule - an extra punch hole in the pattern of one shoe, unconsciously drawing the eye to appreciate the craftsmanship.

In a lesson from my school or the workshop I learned that it is the imperfection in the finished article that makes it beautiful.

In a world of air-brushed glamour, perfection and correctness we may be losing sight of the intrinsic beauty of people and things and this leads me to think of those human "imperfections" that tell our story and let us others sense us as we really are. These "imperfections" might be our errors in speech; a few unwanted kilos; that out-of-place lock of hair.

Or the calloused hand of a master shoemaker.

The future isn't what it used to be

2009-04-17T14:54:00.000-07:00

These past few days I have been helping to deliver some Practitioner Training for Neurolinguisitc Programming (NLP). It has been great to interact with another group of learners keen to explore their subjective experience.

Positions are certainly changing. Shift happens!

As a practitioner, I am mainly there to assist and teach but these roles also provide ample scope for new learning. The time for reflection is very useful and so I have taken the opportunity to review personal values and beliefs.

There are steps I have wanted to take for a while now but have not yet put one foot in front of the other. Its time to do that now. And with that decision made, then guess what?

The future isn't what it used to be.

G20 in London, 16 for Zambia - Action not words

2009-04-01T15:20:00.000-07:00

The G20 meet in London while my son, Nicky, leaves with a lesser numbered school group for an immersion stay in Zambia. There he will live with the locals, bringing in the harvest, doing some building work and helping out with orphaned children. He will be a lifetime away in a different hemisphere, completely removed from this pampered existence.
We had a lovely service of commitment this morning during which we, parents, placed our boys into the care of teachers and staff. There were tears of parting and worry tinged with the sense that we were saying goodbye to children who would come back from their immersion experience older and wiser. Improved.
What will they see, hear and feel during their time in Zambia? What will they bring back that will stay with them for the rest of their lives? What would they say to the G20 and their promises about reducing world poverty by 2015?
At our service we were reminded of the judgment call for social justice in Matthew 25:35 - verses to disturb the comfortable and comfort the disturbed.
We need the doing words. And we need the actions now!

What to do about synchronicity?

2009-03-28T10:31:00.000-07:00

It was sunny and dry this morning and I was enjoying the drive. All the better because I was listening to a Chris Difford cd. I had been talking about the album the day before and saying how evocative the songs "Battersea Boys"and "My Mother's Handbag" were for me. Anyway the cd had played the whole way through and had started again. The "Battersea Boys" track comes early on in the album so having listened again I decided to switch to something else and ejected the cd.
I placed it on the seat beside me but then noticed the song was still playing.....on the car radio.
Chris was one of today's guests on Radio 2's Jonathan Ross show. A lively discussion, full of good natured banter. It was good fun. Then I got to thinking. Coincidence or Synchronicity - Jung's acausal connecting principle? I think synchronicity. When something knocks three times, it's maybe time to start paying attention. So I am off to listen to the song again, and then phone my friend who lives near Battersea.

Savoie fayre - the joy of tartiflette

2008-11-28T13:08:00.000-08:00

The continental Christmas market is back in Belfast. Located in the grounds of the City Hall, it treats the senses with its blend of sights, sounds and smells. The mix of languages, cuisines and cultures is clearly on display. These all add to the growing perception of a Belfast recovering from its past and becoming a more cosmopolitan city. One stall at the market, in particular, drew me in. There, simmering on a very large frying pan, was an aromatic concoction of potatoes, cheese, onions and bacon. Tartiflette! - a local dish from the Savoie region of France. Some people were already queuing for their portions and I wondered if the young Frenchman preparing the food was aware of the publicity given to the dish by London's mayor, Boris Johnston. Boris had offered as proof of the waning value of the £pound that the lunchtime tartiflette he shared on holiday between his "four famished children" would be 25% more expensive this year. The cook proudly unwrapped and showed me the block of Reblochon cheese to guarantee the authenticity of the dish. He ladelled a generous portion into a bowl and I tucked in - transported back to my first taste of the dish in the French Alps. It was the perfect winter warmer and I will be back for more.

Click here for information on the Belfast Continental market and here for Boris Johnston's article.

A time to weep and a time to laugh

2008-11-06T16:55:00.000-08:00

It strikes me that these and other lines from Ecclesiastes 3, speak to the ebb and flow of change. The presidential campaign is over. A new order beckons and before long we'll be watching the inauguration ceremony. Change is in the air.
Among the many memorable images there have been, one of the most recent sticks in my mind. It was at Chicago's Grant Park rally. One of the TV cameras covering the event focused in on the face of a tearful Jesse Jackson. A time to weep.
It was one of those television moments where the picture conveyed a thousand words. I wondered what he must have been thinking as he watched history unfold - dreams and hopes coming finally to fruition.
Not surprisingly, the media picked up on this too and next morning, the veteran campaigner shared his thoughts. They are reported at this link: www.swamppolitics.com
It was noticeable and entertaining to see the role that satire has played in the election process. The telephone pranks and send-ups provided a humorous foil to the serious issues. A time to laugh.
Change is coming. A time of war and a time of peace.

Making the time and freeing the space

2008-11-01T02:48:00.000-07:00

Getting started with the blog was relatively easy. The real challenge has been to keep it going. That needs a bit of effort to make the time and free the space. Although I have not posted anything since June, I have been noticing loads of people, places and things that have been improving with age.
In this post I would like to highlight one in particular.
Back in June, I went to see Leonard Cohen perform in Dublin. It was a suberb concert! The man, now into his seventies, has clearly improved with age. He was totally at ease with himself and with us. What struck me was just how generously and frequently he acknowledged the contribution of his co-performers.
To get a sense of the concert, check out Bock the Robber's review on his blog at:
http://bocktherobber.com/2008/06/leonard-cohen-in-dublin-2
He captured it brilliantly.
And then there was the holiday in France.... But that's for the next time - when I make the time and free the space.
All things good! Chris

Blog: a first time for everything

2008-06-06T16:44:00.001-07:00

Thought about it for a while, registered a blogspot and here we are "improving with age". It was quite easy really, taking only a few minutes but what to share?
Well, some enthusiasms perhaps - such as an abiding passion for France, its people, language and culture and of course, its food and wine!
Thoughts about education, books, films and events. Plenty on personal effectiveness and improvement reflecting my interest in NLP. And hopefully sharing all of this with friends. Time passes, friendship remains / Le temps passe, l'amitie reste. Keep improving. Chris