We’ve all had experiences of people with bad body odour. I mean at this time of year it’s a given that the afternoon rush hour on the tube is going to be spent in the shadow of someone else’s smell.
To an extent though, it doesn’t matter so much with the tube. You know that within a matter of stops you will be outside. No, the problem is when it’s someone you work with who sits near you and there isn’t an escape. Maybe it’s an English thing where people are afraid to say something out of fear of seeming rude. But they then get over this by telling everyone else in the office about it – a problem shared and all the rest, which passes the buck on to someone else to say something. A few years ago I was working in a temp job. One day a new girl started and was seated next to me. She seemed nice and was quite pretty, BUT, and this is a big but – she had a BO problem of the sort that Shaun Ryder in the jungle could only dream of. Other people noticed it too and it was only a brief matter of time before someone told a team leader, who then took her to one side. I imagined that he’d be discreet - that she’d get the message and the next day she’d come into work smelling of potpourri. As it turned out he told her that “People have noticed something – basically, you stink.” Needless to say, she didn’t turn up for work the next day and the rest of the office felt suitably guilty.
The memory of that time came back a little while ago. I’d been working within close proximity of a girl for a number of weeks and we got on quite well. I also happened to know one of her close friends, who was someone I’d worked with in the past. The thing was though, that the girl had a bit of a BO problem. Not all the time, but one day she came in and it was very strong. At first, I thought ‘Ok it’s just a bit of BO, long day and she was a bit off target this morning with the Right Guard’. But then day 2 came along and it’s the same story and then day 3 and day 4, before I had stop and think ‘Shit, I’m going to have to say something.’ What could I say though? The memory of the poor girl in the temp office was all I could think of.
Then, I remembered her friend. Maybe I could suggest that she speak to her in a quiet girly one on one. Maybe if I could arrange that then there would be every reason to imagine that the girl would be fresh as a daisy and ignorant to the fact that anyone else had noticed.
Sure enough, a few days later, it happened. She came into work looking fresh and smelling lovely and carried on looking fresh and smelling lovely. At the time, we had a lot on at work, which is why I initially put her slight aloofness down to stress. But the quieter she was around me, the more curious I grew about the change in her and wondered what it was that her friend had said. After all, she was a nice girl and I would have hated for her to feel embarrassed in anyway. I took her friend out for lunch and asked her what she had said in her girly chat to make such a change. Had it been the quiet ‘look I’ve just noticed something’ whisper in the ear, that I’d hoped?
“I told her that you said she stank” she said. “Ha ha” I said, “very funny, what did you really say?”
Sadly, that was what she had really said. She didn’t get my reasons for asking her to speak to the girl in the first place and the girl, rather predictably was annoyed at me for having talked about her, albeit with good intentions. I learned my lesson though. Next time, don’t faff, just come out and say what’s on your mind. And the silver lining – well, these days the only thing she smells of is Chanel.
Tuesday 28 June 2011
Monday 20 June 2011
Kindle
I’m sitting on the tube, reading a book. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time is written by Mark Haddon. It’s the story of a boy who has Aspergers syndrome and who one day discovers that the dog belonging to the next door neighbour has been killed with a garden fork. He decides to turn detective and during the quest to find out who did it, finds his life taking a dramatic turn. It’s a remarkable book, written in the first person and is littered with illustrations from the boy as he articulates his story.
I look up from the book as the tube train pulls into Earls Court station. The doors open and two ladies walk on. One looks to be in her late 60’s and the other in her early 40’s. They are in mid conversation as the older lady takes the seat next to me, with the other sitting opposite. “I’m not sure I believe in them, what’s wrong with books anyway?” says the older lady. “But Kindles are so convenient Mum” says her daughter.
Ah, Kindles - I’m suddenly reminded of a conversation I recently had with G on the same topic. “They’re so convenient” she had said. “I can have my whole library with me to dip in and out of on the tube”. Now in fairness, G might struggle to fill a couple of shoeboxes with her library. She’s more of a magazine fan than a book reader. She is however, a gadget freak and it’s probably here that the conversation first stemmed. It got me thinking though. Does the dipping in and out, convenience argument of the Kindle really hold water? I’m not so sure. It’s fine if we’re talking about MP3’s, where you might want to chop and change between tracks and albums frequently. But how many times have you honestly wanted to flit between books, mid-read on the underground?
There’s more too. With books there is also an accessory factor. How many times have you been to someone’s house or flat for the first time and found yourself browsing through the books on their shelf, curious to see the sorts of things they have in their collection. They may even recommend one of them and let you borrow it. Indeed, this is how I came to be reading the book I’m reading. However, when was the last time you walked up to anyone and said “Excuse me, but what do you have on your Kindle?”
Also there’s the look and feel of a book. Last week I was having lunch with G2 (friend of G’s who appeared in an earlier update) who was given a Kindle last Christmas. She told me that she found it convenient, in so far as it was less bulky than some of her books. However she missed the feeling of knowing and being able to physically see how far through a book she is and how far she has to go to finish it.
Is this a debate between technophobes and technogeeks I wonder, or is it more a generational thing? Certainly the debate being had by the two ladies on the tube seems to be more generational and one where I find myself falling into the older camp.
I’m trying to multi task between reading and listening in on the mother/daughter sparring session. In the book, the boy has just been taken to the zoo by his father and has drawn a perfectly detailed map of it’s layout for the reader. In the debate, I am hoping the mother will come up with a killer argument that will leave her daughter stumped. ‘Come on mum, you can’t lose this one’ I’m thinking, when suddenly I hear her say “What about illustrations? Do they have books with illustrations on Kindles?” ”Oh mum...” says the daughter. She rolls her eyes and smiles at me as if to say ‘sorry about my mother’. “When was the last time you read a book with illustrations?” I slowly turn the book over to show her and smile back. She shrugs her shoulders and laughs "Ok, fair enough". I want to high five the mother, but don't - it's a generational thing.
I look up from the book as the tube train pulls into Earls Court station. The doors open and two ladies walk on. One looks to be in her late 60’s and the other in her early 40’s. They are in mid conversation as the older lady takes the seat next to me, with the other sitting opposite. “I’m not sure I believe in them, what’s wrong with books anyway?” says the older lady. “But Kindles are so convenient Mum” says her daughter.
Ah, Kindles - I’m suddenly reminded of a conversation I recently had with G on the same topic. “They’re so convenient” she had said. “I can have my whole library with me to dip in and out of on the tube”. Now in fairness, G might struggle to fill a couple of shoeboxes with her library. She’s more of a magazine fan than a book reader. She is however, a gadget freak and it’s probably here that the conversation first stemmed. It got me thinking though. Does the dipping in and out, convenience argument of the Kindle really hold water? I’m not so sure. It’s fine if we’re talking about MP3’s, where you might want to chop and change between tracks and albums frequently. But how many times have you honestly wanted to flit between books, mid-read on the underground?
There’s more too. With books there is also an accessory factor. How many times have you been to someone’s house or flat for the first time and found yourself browsing through the books on their shelf, curious to see the sorts of things they have in their collection. They may even recommend one of them and let you borrow it. Indeed, this is how I came to be reading the book I’m reading. However, when was the last time you walked up to anyone and said “Excuse me, but what do you have on your Kindle?”
Also there’s the look and feel of a book. Last week I was having lunch with G2 (friend of G’s who appeared in an earlier update) who was given a Kindle last Christmas. She told me that she found it convenient, in so far as it was less bulky than some of her books. However she missed the feeling of knowing and being able to physically see how far through a book she is and how far she has to go to finish it.
Is this a debate between technophobes and technogeeks I wonder, or is it more a generational thing? Certainly the debate being had by the two ladies on the tube seems to be more generational and one where I find myself falling into the older camp.
I’m trying to multi task between reading and listening in on the mother/daughter sparring session. In the book, the boy has just been taken to the zoo by his father and has drawn a perfectly detailed map of it’s layout for the reader. In the debate, I am hoping the mother will come up with a killer argument that will leave her daughter stumped. ‘Come on mum, you can’t lose this one’ I’m thinking, when suddenly I hear her say “What about illustrations? Do they have books with illustrations on Kindles?” ”Oh mum...” says the daughter. She rolls her eyes and smiles at me as if to say ‘sorry about my mother’. “When was the last time you read a book with illustrations?” I slowly turn the book over to show her and smile back. She shrugs her shoulders and laughs "Ok, fair enough". I want to high five the mother, but don't - it's a generational thing.
Thursday 2 June 2011
Cars
I’m a little bit of a car nut, I always have been. It comes from growing up with brothers who were into cars and from watching endless re-runs of The Italian Job and the car chase from Bullitt as a kid. I have so many memories through my childhood and teenage years of going to countless motor shows and collecting all the freebies on offer. Looking back, it must have irritated the hell out of my mother. We’d bring back armfuls of stuff which would just sit around gathering dust. What did it matter though – I had a carrier bag from Lotus, full of free stickers from Ford – how cool was that! Of all the car shows me and my mates used to go to though, the one which was the most constant was one in our own town in North London and was called the Enfield Pageant of Motoring.
It was only just up the road from where I used to live and we used to go there on our bikes. If you were a kid and into cars, then it was a smorgasbord of adventure. There were traction engines and classic cars from the 1940’s, 50’s and 60’s. There was a large autojumble and historic buses and army vehicles and motorbikes. There was even a funfair for children and families. The funny thing with car shows though, is that sometimes the most interesting cars are not in the show at all, but actually belong to paying visitors and can be found out in the car park.
At the age of around 9 or 10 we’d cycle around the car park, trying to see if we could spot a Ferrari or an Aston Martin. Occasionally we’d see something like a 1971 Alfa Romeo Spider, just as the owner would be getting into it. “Corrr nice car” we’d say, as he’d slip on a pair of shades, fire up the engine and give it a rev. I want to be him one day, I’d think as he’d drive off.
I mention all this of course, as I was driving through Enfield last Monday on my way to visit family and remembered that it was the bank holiday that the Enfield Pageant was on. I drive an old MGB Roadster myself and I was curious to see if I could pick up any parts for it at the autojumble and see what cars might be on display – or indeed, in the car park.
I drove in and parked up. Looking around the show, it seemed pretty much as I remembered it. The traction engines were still there, as was the funfair, the autojumble and the historic car clubs. The cars were newer though. The classics from the 50’s and 60’s had now been replaced by those from the 70’s and 80’s. There were more old American cars than I remembered. A large collection was displayed in a tent with a band playing Rockabilly music as a group of brylcreemed geriatric rockers tried their best to rock around the clock in front of the stage. As I spent the best part of a couple of hours walking around the show, I was struck by nostalgia and the memories of past times at the same place – of heading home afterwards and Mum making dinner before we’d get ready for school the next morning.
I bought a couple of things from the autojumble and after completing another circuit of the show, decided that it was time to head to Hertfordshire to see the family. I headed back to my car and put the things in the boot. The sun was starting to shine and I put on a pair of sunglasses as I opened the drivers door. “Wicked car mate!” said a voice. I looked around to see 3 kids on bikes looking at my MG. “That’s sic, I bet it goes well fast” said another. “Thanks” I said as I climbed in. I started the engine and gave it a rev – much to their approval. I reversed out and drove off, grinning to myself as I realised that I was now the guy in the car park that I had always wanted to be.
It was only just up the road from where I used to live and we used to go there on our bikes. If you were a kid and into cars, then it was a smorgasbord of adventure. There were traction engines and classic cars from the 1940’s, 50’s and 60’s. There was a large autojumble and historic buses and army vehicles and motorbikes. There was even a funfair for children and families. The funny thing with car shows though, is that sometimes the most interesting cars are not in the show at all, but actually belong to paying visitors and can be found out in the car park.
At the age of around 9 or 10 we’d cycle around the car park, trying to see if we could spot a Ferrari or an Aston Martin. Occasionally we’d see something like a 1971 Alfa Romeo Spider, just as the owner would be getting into it. “Corrr nice car” we’d say, as he’d slip on a pair of shades, fire up the engine and give it a rev. I want to be him one day, I’d think as he’d drive off.
I mention all this of course, as I was driving through Enfield last Monday on my way to visit family and remembered that it was the bank holiday that the Enfield Pageant was on. I drive an old MGB Roadster myself and I was curious to see if I could pick up any parts for it at the autojumble and see what cars might be on display – or indeed, in the car park.
I drove in and parked up. Looking around the show, it seemed pretty much as I remembered it. The traction engines were still there, as was the funfair, the autojumble and the historic car clubs. The cars were newer though. The classics from the 50’s and 60’s had now been replaced by those from the 70’s and 80’s. There were more old American cars than I remembered. A large collection was displayed in a tent with a band playing Rockabilly music as a group of brylcreemed geriatric rockers tried their best to rock around the clock in front of the stage. As I spent the best part of a couple of hours walking around the show, I was struck by nostalgia and the memories of past times at the same place – of heading home afterwards and Mum making dinner before we’d get ready for school the next morning.
I bought a couple of things from the autojumble and after completing another circuit of the show, decided that it was time to head to Hertfordshire to see the family. I headed back to my car and put the things in the boot. The sun was starting to shine and I put on a pair of sunglasses as I opened the drivers door. “Wicked car mate!” said a voice. I looked around to see 3 kids on bikes looking at my MG. “That’s sic, I bet it goes well fast” said another. “Thanks” I said as I climbed in. I started the engine and gave it a rev – much to their approval. I reversed out and drove off, grinning to myself as I realised that I was now the guy in the car park that I had always wanted to be.
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