"Always keep hold of nurse, for fear of holding something worse"

The economics of the eurozone condition at tonight’s seminar spun my head in circles, the sheer vastness of the billions swilling about, the slipping macro-economic charts of many countries, the decline of the "garlic" nations and the messy interdependency of "butter" nations.  But the subject line above raised a laugh at the seminar.   "Always keep hold of nurse, for fear of holding something worse."

 We were reminded of Hilaire Belloc's nonsense verse which seemed a neat summing up of behaviours surrounding the state of the euro.  (I am kindly reminded that the line comes from "Jim, who ran away from his Nurse, and was eaten by a Lion".)

Aha.  Nurses, not nannies, I thought - and the playfulness of English Edwardian verse. Both one step away from natural affection I suspect, but neat at explaining authority in distress.  Do the British prefer their austerity politicians as nannies or nurses?   Would Germany eventually accept higher inflation as a way out of the mess?  Are  we back to the 1930s where the countries that will come out best are those most easily able to devalue currencies?

Our speaker was rather mesmeric. And I reeled with the thought of it all. The bells of Bow Bell's church tolled for at least fifteen minutes as the seminar got into its prime.  Ask not, for "it tolls for thee.”  Brits quite like "moody" I think.

Variously moulded and often differently handled

After re-reading this, it's hard not to blush about internet shopping.  And e-bay.  Hmm.

"Though it may be unessential to the imagination, travel is necessary to an understanding of men.  Only with long experience and the opening of his wares on many a beach where his language is not spoken, will the merchant come to know the worth of what he carries, and what is parochial and what is universal in his choice.  Such delicate goods as justice, love and honour, courtesy, and indeed all the things we care for, are valid everywhere; but they are variously moulded and often differently handled, and sometimes nearly unrecognizable if you meet them in a foreign land; and the art of learning fundamental common values is perhaps the greatest gain of travel to those who wish to live at ease among their fellows." 

Freya Stark, Perseus in the Wind, retold by John Julius Norwich in "A Christmas Cracker" in 2007.

Guessing what is at “the other side of the hill”

“All the business of war, and indeed all the business of life, is to endeavour to find out what you don’t know by what you do; that’s what I called ‘guessing what was at the other side of the hill.’”  

So said the Duke of Wellington.  I have misquoted this so often that I am finally at pains to write it down properly.  I have mistakenly used the “other side of the hill” analogy to counter the business challenge that there lies a squadron of enthusiastic buyers of one’s products, all waiting out there, but they remain annoyingly unidentified and unapproached.    

Yet no matter how many missions are sent galloping over the proverbial hill, sometimes there just aren’t more mystery buyers to unearth.  Beyond the hill is sometimes just more uninhabited land.  

The proper quotation is more profound than my misreading of it.  I do like the Duke for acknowledging we use what we know to find out what don’t – a pretty fragile basis but it is all that we poor humans have.   Past knowledge might be the only guide to the future, to paraphrase.

Modern times

"Gaddafi would arrive at summits of Arab leaders in a white limousine surrounded by a bodyguard of nubile Kalashnikov-toting brunettes. At one non-aligned summit in Belgrade, he turned up with two horses and six camels; the Yugoslavs allowed him to graze the camels in front of his hotel – where he pitched his tent and drank fresh camel milk – but refused to allow him to arrive at the conference on one of his white chargers. Several of the camels ended up in Belgrade zoo. " - Telegraph

Meanwhile back at St Paul's, the Times reports on the growing conurbation "...there is also a meditation tent and a piano tent."  The portable lavatories were recently taken away.  

"Everyone had to use the toilet in Starbucks," said one protester with a look of despair.  "Yes, it's the symbol of capitalism, but everyone needs a wee and a coffee sometimes,"   Donations to the cathedral are said to be down 50% and trade at its cafe has slumped because its street entrance has been blocked by tents.  The cathedral warned it might have to close for the first time in memory because tourists and worshippers were reluctant to pass through the tents.

Silver linings for some.  Black's the camping shop is doing a roaring trade and now offers special discounts on sleeping bags.

Clan bang in New York

There are over 150,000 people with my surname in North America.  I disbelieved I had a "clan" as we're lalland not highland, so when one emerges to take one in the fold, it is quite a surprise, especially when this charming tartan-clad American lady introduced herself to me at a gala dinner at New York last month.  So it was a delight to meet her husband, my clan chieftain, yesterday, at Harry's bar opposite the British Garden in Hanover Square, for a spot of lunch.  Bob, who hails from Summit, New Jersey, is steeped in clan history and shared valuable insight into clan history that was unknown to me.  I had assumed the clan were rather a dour, ineffectual bunch who sang songs to praise the grander MacDonalds of the Isles for their vital deeds and battles.  Nothing of the sort, retorts Bob, our clan leaders were kingmakers and valued for their literacy.  I liked the "our".

I was delighted to note that Bob is somewhat short-sighted, is a head of marketing and public affairs in his day job and once fell over badly near a pub in the Scottish isles and broke his spectacles. Bob and his clan team support a commendable charitable event called "Pipes of Christmas" which helps give scholarships for piping students back in Scotland.  I was reaching for my credit card by the end of lunch.

No riots yet in downtown New York

It was a beautiful sunny New York morning to behold rattling in on the train from Phillyworld and Wall Street is just humming with office workers carrying their precious polystyrene coffees to work, but there's little sign of the rioters that were exciting the news channels yesterday.  My hunch is unless they plan to kip in the few squares in the area, rioters tend to get up late, not really being in their prime until mid-morning at the earliest.  This may be a slur and I am happy to be challenged, but I suspect here the rioters are older than the median 12-year olds in London.  No sign of that big blow up rat either, so maybe the union protesters and rioters have gone to the beach for that last gasp of summery weather.

Mad British taps in baths

A Canadian colleague, now that we are collecting things of strangeness, pondered why British baths need to have two taps with two spouts.  In Canada, he said they would blend to allow the right temperature of water arrive into the bath in a single stream. This seemed very logical and I tried to battle an answer, for example for the convenience of a cold tap to brush one's teeth.  But brushing teeth in the bath is sort of absurd unless you are using the basin to clean your socks or something.  Still, he makes a valid point.

In the Navy: white T-shirts under shirts at work

Another mystery of corporate dress etiquette in America is the t-shirt under the shirt particularly in hot weather  One old timer suggests this saves on laundry costs and the shirt may be worn for some extra days as the t-shirt soaks the daily grime. Yick.  The corporate dress code includes suit trousers typically two inches higher than in the UK, flapping around the ankles is acceptable.  Blackberries may be worn in holsters, like a gun, with no sense of irony.  And haircuts are short, short, like you've joined the Marines.  The military-industrial complex may be a faint echo of the post-war prime of this fine nation, but corporate America still tips hats to it. 

Labor Day: when swimming pools turn green

So Labor Day is the official conclusion of summer in the United States.  Dress codes are strict and woe betide the hapless summer enthusiast still to sport whites now that the Fall has descended and the serious business of returning to work has begun.  From the thirty something floor of our office in a fine mid-town city, it is possible to see the swimming pools at the top of skyscrapers turn green as no one uses them, for they are now closed.  Some drain the pools, so there's a turquoisey gleam still to be had from a distance.  Others just leave the water and the vibrant green is also quite striking as mother nature and algae begins to work its stuff.  Apparently the form is to wait until Memorial Day when fresh chemicals are added to turn the water blue again.  There's something oddly disturbing and quite believable about such muscular economics that reminds me not to accept an invitation to a swimming party next summer.  Even if offered.

Simply stateside: strange gaps in lavatory doors in America

Some excitement in our US office with the installation of new lavatory doors that now reach to the ceiling and the ground.  This closet discussion has been running for some years and its resolution marks a heady advance in transatlantic negotation.  The story begins with the bewildered British wondering why the cubicles need to show the shoes and feet of the poor user in the office loos.  It transpires that the landlord states it is a union regulation and indeed these gappy cublicle doors seem to be a feature of public buildings in the US.  Some believe this is because it makes for easier cleaning with a mop.   Others speculate that the cost of repair to the units (that are typically unloved as there is no private ownership of them) is cheaper than if a full door was available.  Or that the cleaners charge piece rate by the room and that a full door would mean each cubicle becomes a room. Privacy has now been introduced which is considered no small triumph in the land of insistent rules and regulations in office life.  Nothing petty about that.

Little black straws 1

So the question was why do Americans put those little black straws in alcoholic drinks with ice and hot coffee?  Which plastics producer cunningly persuaded a nation it really was the best way to sip ice-chilled spirits of scalding coffee drinks.  One office colleague in Philly suggested it was to protect teeth as after bleaching, the straw protects the pearly whites.  But the case for the opposition says, oh really, then why don't they serve red wine with the little black straws?