A (last) day in the Sun

Once it gets to September, every day that is sunny and warm always feels like potentially "the last day of Summer" and seems figuratively welcomed with more open arms than its predecessor.
Today was such a day. The mercury touched the nose bleeding heights of 28 degrees (that is degrees Celsius) and you felt like you simply had to be outside the house enjoying the sunshine.

I ended up doing something which felt quintessentially English, I had an afternoon picnic in a local park. It felt very much like the Village Green, though it wasn't near a village - else I would have been pronounced Village Idiot.
But there were two local cricket games happening, and dotted all around were families and couples and groups of friends all enjoying the sun. Some were lying tanning on the field of play, and would scuttled like startled birds when the ball would occasionally be struck in their direction. An Ice Cream vendor in their little colourful van scurried from one gate to the other, noisily playing their little tune to give notice of their presence, and with every chord of that little tune, you seemed more drawn to the idea of a soft serve in the warm sun.

There was something remarkably English about today, a remarkably "non-English" day, in terms of the weather.

And given that the forecast for tomorrow is for light rain, who knows, we might well have enjoyed our Last Day of Summer.

But, if so, then what a day to end Summer!

X-Factor : Danyl Johnson

I must admit - I don't often watch the early episodes of an X-Factor series. I very often find the auditions cringe worthy, and find myself hiding behind the couch as some poor soul tries to battle through nerves and indescribable lack of talent, attempting to woo the judges and audience with a song that God himself would find difficult to master.

However, I seem set to be in for the long haul in this series, having already been enticed in to what quickly became an X-Factor evening in my house this evening.

And yes, I found myself cringing, I found myself hiding behind my hands, wishing that a hole would open up under the contestant or our TV and that the pain would end. "End the suffering!", I found myself saying, wondering what I had done in the last 24 hours to deserve this.

And then, quite out of the blue, Danyl Johnson walked on to the stage and I realised why I had spent 54 minutes of my life in agony. he delivered one of the best ever auditions, and I think, even at this stage, he must be one of the favorites to make the final. Even if he doesn't - his will be a name that you will become far more familiar with, as this guy has a future in entertaining us, his audience.





Remember his name, Danyl Johnson is going to be famous!

Brightening the gloom of the recession

It's not often that someone happily gives money away, but that appears to be exactly what is happening in London for the rest of August.

Talk Talk, a british mobile phone and broadband supplier have enlisted the help of 20 former pick pockets and converted them into "putpockets" and for the rest of the month these 20 convertees will be "putting" money back into unguarded pockets and bags in busy spots around London, including Covent Garden, Leicester Square, Westminster, Oxford Circus and the South Bank.

Having spent this evening in several of those spots I can tell you that I was not a "victim" of any "put-pocketing" - where Londoners could find themselves with anything from £5 to £20 more in their pockets.

The premise from Talk Talk is that they are the best value for money product on the market - literally putting money back into your pocket.

The idea will run throughout August in London, before being rolled out to other UK cities. In all, it is anticipated that £100,000 will be "put" into pockets.

That's assuming they aren't pickpocketed first.

For more read the Talk Talk blog here.

On a sombre note

It is sad when something serious becomes so mundane, so normal and accepted - almost anticipated, that it loses its sting, its ability to get us to sit up and take notice.

204...

No, that's not the Ashes cricket score.

That is the number of British troops that have been killed in Afghanistan.
What is really sad is that just a few weeks ago that number stood at 150, but over recent weeks almost like some kind of morbid role call, the daily evening news has informed us of another 2 or 3 troops killed in a foreign land, in some foreign war.
And every night the photograph shown is of a young, fresh faced soldier, cut down in their prime. Another family told that their son or daughter will not be returning home, another gap in the ranks to be quickly filled by another young, possibly fresher face.

I am not advocating one side or another in the war. I am not supporting or arguing against the war.

But every day more and more families receive the devastating news that their loved ones have fallen, have given the ultimate sacrifice for their country, and tragically, as the list of dead soldiers gets longer and longer, that country for which they have fought and died becomes more and more desensitised to their death and less and less appreciative of their sacrifice.

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