in which we flee to the country

We were down on the farm for Friday night.

I held one of the well-behaved chickens to see whether we saw eye-to-eye. It was fine until they sighted some wet bread and broke into a frenzy of crust grabbing.

Later our increasing gang took ourselves off to an adjacent open air table to sip some local ale and chatter. It was still early evening and hectic London a few hours behind us took a moments to flee as we became adjusted to our rural surroundings.

loaner car heralds large bill

My car was whisked away for its "D +" Service a couple of days ago.

I could tell it would be expensive because the normal service is a very reasonably priced "A". I also had a couple of little extra things to get fixed, like the driver mirror motor which had stopped working (not that I use it much) and another warning message which had popped up.

"Ring Ring," went the phone later in the day as the friendly main dealer called me. "The other warning is because the complicated high tech computerised braking system control unit needs to be replaced and they cost £900".

Gulp.

"...But the good news is the car manufacturer will pay for it; no charge to you."

Good news.

"So I'm arranging for you to have a loan car because yours will be with us longer whilst we get the part/fit it etc".

Two hours later the delivery driver arrived with the loan car with its "new car" smell and six wiggly manual gears. End of day I drove it home, marvelling at the Thunderbirds style pop-up Sat-Nav and the way it pestered me to get my phone number for its bluetooth.

I'll admit to a few kangaroo moments with the gearbox. I'm used to manual shifts, but my normal car is an automatic, and the extra gear seemed somehow one shift too many, along with a little graphic on the speedo which kept suggesting to me when I should change up to a higher gear.

I realised again that I'm really one of the people that likes a car to 'drive me' rather than having to drive the car.

Its probably not very "Top Gear" but I'll be looking forward to getting my car back...Once fixed, I'm pretty sure it will again drive better than the loaner. Not bad for 120,000 miles on the clock.

trading statues

Trading statues today as I headed back to London in time for some meetings this afternoon. After the return landmark strewn ride to Leonardo da Vinci airport, I found myself as the solitary business person in the midst of holiday makers and large parties of school children.

I'm usually good at zoning out at airports, but as I queued for the flight, I could't help notice the sheer decibels of mayhem around me.

Then a sequence from one of those Guy Ritchie films. Flight. iPhone movies. Iris eye scan. Meeting. Car. Traffic Jams. Meeting. Car. Home.

more of the sweet life

An eight o' clock start, but my first meeting was by phone, so I managed to grab a small room service breakfast whilst I was on the call.

Then to the main lobby, to meet others before the main session started. The main meeting was scheduled to run through to 7pm before we were to adjourn to a nearby restaurant at around 8pm.

We did pause for lunch and emerged blinking into the heat and sunlight of Roma, where we sat at a street-side cafe before restarting the session. To others we may have looked relaxed, but it was all still part of our shop-talk.

Suffice to say we finished the main session late, with enough time to return to the room, drop off miscellaneous papers and then head directly to a special rooftop restaurant in the nearby Via Vittorio Veneto. Elegantly prepared Sicilian specialities in the Roman street that featured the paparazzi of the Fellini film.

And the start of a night in Rome.

la dolce vita

"Would you like the air-conditioning switched on?" asked the taxi driver in Italian.

I thought I'd heard a 'whoosh' sound as the car door had opened and the pent up heat hit me like a stun grenade. It was 33C outside but I think the driver was storing heat for the winter.

"Prego!" I uttered, realising I wouldn't have enough Italian to last me into the centre of Roma.

The driver floored it and entered the traffic system at Formula 1 speeds. I think he was trying for a personal best as he swept me along the Autostrada, then joggling through roundabouts, skittering across cobblestones and eventually past famous landmarks. The Coliseum, The Roman Forum, The Trevi Fountain, Piazza Repubblica and eventually to a posh hotel.

Probably a world record for sight-seeing during a taxi ride, and I've little idea how everything I glimpsed linked together. I realise that although I've been to Rome several times, I only have an episodic knowledge of it rather than any real sense of the geography.

Then to a florid room with its own rather excessive chandelier but I was more preoccupied to fire up the wifi and deal with the charts and diagrams I needed for tomorrow's meeting.

twinkle

Twinkling lights of London as we flew around in circles through dusk and into dark, before arriving, eventually, back at Terminal 1.

Its surprising, with reflection, how little I use T1 now, compared with even a couple of years ago, when it was the main BA terminal.

There's been plenty of subtle changes, with the new airside shops emphasis moved to the circular area and the old shops no longer quite such the central hub.

There was a brief period when all of it was fully operational and the whole terminal looked busy and purposeful, but now there seem to be a few dead ends blocked off with white painted boarding.

Of course that's nothing compared with the complete disappearance of T2, and the arrival of heavy digging machinery. No wonder we walked down the steps from a far corner of Heathrow near to Terminal 3 and had to be bussed back to the main area.

Today its further London time, before more travelling, although I must admit yesterday evening I was counting the days in the week and was slightly surprised it was still only Tuesday.

bin schon gelandet

Well, I found the hotel easily enough.

I used a form of advanced commuting that wouldn't have been available a few years ago. I googled the hotel and saw it was less than a kilometer from the airport terminal.

Then I switched to satellite mode and zoomed in to find the footpaths and access routes around the airport. Sure enough, a route from the middle terminal through a car park, across a road and I'd be at the main entrance of the hotel.

Much easier than waiting around for a shuttle bus.
Much better than having an argument with a taxi driver about a measly EUR3 fare.

So I walked and it took about 6 minutes. I was in the hotel at around the time the plane was officially due to land.

A good result.

Whitehall

Sitting here waiting for the coffee to take effect.

Today's London has lost the blast of sunshine colour and become more muted again. Damp drizzly early pavements but not enough rain to quench the yellow deserts of London's Parks.

I'm about to go into a couple of meetings and then later I head for Germany. I'll be staying at one of those hotels that has 'Airport' in its title, but could be anything from 'on site' (I doubt it) to ten kilometres away.

I know that the taxi drivers won't like it though, because the fare will be less than a trip into the city.

the octopus was right

"Will you be watching the match?", I was asked in the early evening. I'd gone away somewhere quiet to do some work, which needed to be ready for tomorrow morning.

Post England's defeat, I'd chosen to support the Spanish on the basis of being in a lively Madrid when they beat Portugal a few days ago.

The thing is, when I'd watched the lack-lustre England matches aggregate two goals, my interest waned to the point I wasn't even sure I'd watch the final.

But I did, and the Spanish deserved to win in what was choppy and unsatisfying game with a large number of fouls and yellow cards being distributed. After 90 minutes and nil all, the commentators were getting ready to talk about penalty shoot-outs.

Replacing skill with gamesmanship seemed to form an important part of the match, especially from the orange ones. If this is the best the world has to offer then perhaps FIFA does need to think about some rule changes to make the game more interesting.

shopping

Really, its too hot for shopping, but I need ice cream, cool beers, stuff like that.

hot oct hot

I was chatting to someone yesterday who is about to head out to Riyad, which is where I worked for a while.

I guessed that the temperature would be about 45 degrees Centigrade at this time. The Riyad air could be just hot without any breeze, and no real difference in the shade.

Another time when I drove across the slightly cooler 40 degree Joshua Tree Park in California it somehow seemed hotter, because I can remember the wind, which outside the car felt like a permanent fan heater blowing in the face.

The strange thing is that the even cooler 32 degree UK seems just as hot a the moment. I open a window and there's that fan heater air blast.

Its probably that we Brits are just not as geared for heat. I'm guessing British temperature tolerance (especially we Southerners) is something like 0-20 degrees C and either side we either slip over or burst into flames.

So I'm predicting a slow weekend if the weather holds. Al fresco dining and the football on Sunday. Predictive Paul the Psychic Octopus has already told us that Spain will nail the world cup final, despite that Dutch parakeet's argument to the contrary. With my recent time in Spain when a match was taking place, they've become the natural third choice for me... 1) England, but pah! 2) Slovenia because of the office sweepstake and 3) Spain - whose supporters know how to party.

So I'll predict a "¡Visca España!" as the mainly Catalan team play the orange ones on Sunday.

getting through the gaps

Suddenly its half way through the week again.

Originally I was to have been travelling but all of my plans have been thrown into the air.

Luckily I'm used to living in a permanent state of being rescheduled. Kind of weaving through the streets and calendars, trying not to scratch the edges.

Its not overly alarming, but it requires placing bets about the future state of meetings and expecting one thing or another to bounce.

My agenda gambling is mainly working, but I still get those moments when I'm cleaning my teeth in the morning and calculating the next evening when I'll be (a) home or (b) able to get a full night's sleep.