Look At Moi....

I’ve followed the American election campaign kinder the same way I watch a clip on MTV which is usually when I’m between the laundry and motivation. I stand; I look wearing my facial screensaver convincing myself that I know the artist and the song they’re singing. Like many things in my life I pretend. I nod my head thinking I recognise the song and move on to finding something else to avoid my dirty underwear.

For a moment I did switch MTV off. I had followed the Democrat primaries to a certain extent this year in that, after years of mystery I finally came close to understanding how the primary system actually operates. Coming from a traditional Westminster democracy, I wasn’t very familiar with the electoral process for the President of the United States. I was also a Hilary supporter. I thought and I still think it is time for a woman to have a crack at being the leader of not only the Union but the free world. To my disappointment she bowed out in June and Barack Obama became the Democrat Nominee for the November election.

I then lost interest and reverted back to my MTV interpretation of American politics. Not even Sarah Palin ignited my interest that much although I liked her glasses and she is kinder charismatic in an ambitious cheerleader hating homosexual way. Still she didn’t get me to pay more attention than a lost disco tune.

In the last couple of weeks though, I’ve paid more attention as the world’s biggest financial crisis since the Great Depression of the 1930s has unfolded. The financial tsunami that is the credent crunch which we’ve all been aware now for some time has finally come to shore. And America has seriously sneezed. And like the saying goes, when America sneezes the rest of the world gets a cold. America is in trouble to its core and we need to pay attention to this presidential election.

Australian politics is very different to American politics. Generally we like our leaders to be the underdog; we like Mr Corner Store or Mr Suburban Solicitor; someone we could see our mothers have over for a Sunday Roast. In a way we like blandness in that we equate it to resilience and security. It’s what kept John Howard in power for 11 years. Kevin Rudd is just an updated fat free version still maintaining the Howard sex appeal of wet paper. The alpha male exceptions to this rule have been the former PMs Bob Hawke and Paul Keating who injected the Australian political landscape with their rogue cowboy style. Most of the time though we want out leaders to be equally at home firing up the barbie as firing up the parliament. Americans on the other hand like their leaders to be leaders in every sense of the word. Presidential candidates resemble movie stars and their campaigns movie blockbusters. It’s like the Oscars on a loop. The trouble is all the red carpet and couture tend to detract from the actual candidates’ policies.

So it was for the first time yesterday that I actually turned MTV off, sat down for the Presidential debate and listened to what each candidate had to say. Being gay it is naturally assumed that you lean to the left side of party politics. I’ve never fallen under that cliché. If anything I’ve always had issues with parties such as the ALP and the Democrats who have a stranglehold over a reputation for being “progressive” when in fact they are just as conservative, or more so than their right wing equivalents. This together with my wanting Hilary in the oval office, I wasn’t an automatic convert to Obama.

This debate was focussed on foreign affairs but considering the disastrous economic events of the last two weeks, the issue of the economy was at the forefront. In all honesty neither candidate could explain where they are going to get the money from to support their economic policies particularly when the $700 billion financial markets rescue package is passed by Congress. They both failed in this regard.

However Obama did dominate the rest of the economic portion of the debate, arguing that the Wall Street disaster was the fault of the Bush administration’s anti-regulation, pro-corporate culture. He called for a major overhaul of the financial regulatory system. McCain however fumbled his way through the economic points resorting to generalizations about greed and corruption. He seemed quite lost and demonstrated little understanding of the regulatory failures which have lead to the current market crisis.

As expected, McCain was stronger on foreign affairs issues than Obama but he did at times sound like a poor man’s Ronald Reagon constantly referring to his “I know best” experience and the naivety of Obama. He came across as patronizing and arrogant and his scare mongering was bordering on the laughable. When he said that he sees the letters “KGB” when he thinks of Vladimir Putin, I was waiting for the canned laughter. It never came.

The most interesting part of the debate was the body language. McCain never locked eye contact with the television audience or Obama once. It was very strange and didn’t assist his argument at all. I kept yelling out “Look at moi! Look at moi!” It made McCain seem quite old and arrogant; whereas Obama continually maintained eye contact with his audience and particularly McCain. This worked in his favour. He came across with candor and warmth. You felt that when he talks about change, he actually means it. Whereas McCain sounded like a 20^th Century hangover echoing the same sentiment that has lead America to its current disastrous state.

The debate still lacked details such as when and how Obama intends to withdraw all troops from Iraq, but it was good to finally move off the red carpet and hear these candidates argue their policies. For some time I thought Obama was nothing but a one hit wonder; he had a catchy tune, was clever with words and had a good stylist. Yesterday I changed my mind.

Kevin 747 In New York.....

Love it...

I'll Have What She's Having.....

My god it's Lesbians galore at the moment. Katy Parry is kissing a girl; Lindsay Lohan is locking lips with DJ Samantha Ronson and they've even made Ellen a CoverGirl. It's so darn trendy, I might pick one up myself when I go to get my iphone next week.

One would almost think that the great gay revolution was on our doorstep. But sadly, this latest lesbian craze has nothing to do with gay emancipation. You won't see two male movie stars getting dirty on the Star Tracks pages in the latest issue of Who Magazine (without it destroying their careers anyway)and you won't have Justin Timberlake warbling "I Kissed a Guy" any time soon.

Lindsay Lohan can wander off with a girlfriend without it remotely affecting her career, yet if a gay male movie star is to do the same thing with his boyfriend, he has to act as if he is living in Stalinist Russia with fake Gucci Girlfriend in hand maintaining more decoys than Sarah Palin at a pro-choice rally.

Whilst male homosexuality is seen as a weakness in our modern patriarchal society, lesbianism (particularly the hot lipstick kind) is seen as complimentary. Since the advent of porn, straight blokes have been permitted to enjoy watching chicks get it on. Lesbianism (as long as the chicks are "hot") accordingly has become part of the straight paradigm. For god's sake Ellen peddling beauty products?

Lets not fool ourselves then that this lesbian phase has something to do with the mainstreaming of homosexual culture; it's all to do with straight male titillation…. pardon my pun.

Over and Out

One of my best girlfriends P, arrived back from a year in Cambodia on Friday. P and I used to work together as lawyers at a legal aid organisation for a couple of years and have been firm besties ever since. She has spent the last year working for an NGO Environmental Rights organisation throughout regional Cambodia. It sounds like she had a fantastic experience and looks really well. She has accepted a lawyer's post at a legal aid centre in Broome, Western Australia and starts there at the end of October. She's back in Sydney for a month. P is one of the few close female friends of mine who is equally part of my Sydney gay posse as well as my straight group of friends. She's seen it all. She almost should be an honorary gay man but not in a clichéd faghag Judy Garland way….she's more one of the boys; think Shirley Maclaine and the Brat Pack; she's probably one of the few female friends I have where I am free not to censor anything from the World of Gay when we talk. I usually give most of my female friends a Hallmark version of my life; with P, nothing is off limits. As a result, I've missed her greatly over the last year and I was looking forward to seeing her on the Friday night.

Trev and I had booked Macleay Street Bistro at Potts Point for dinner. There were eight of us going. I had canapés and champagne cocktails at Judy's before we headed across the road to the bistro. I hadn't been to Macleay Street (bistro) in ages and it was super-nice to sample its "lower east-side" intimacy again although if the waiter described another dish as "absolutely beautiful", I was going to offer him a job at the Home Shopping network. We returned to Judy's place for more champagne and an assortment of cheeses I had purchased earlier that day. We were all suitably inebriated and like most people in their 30s and 40s were thinking of turning in.... until Trev said five minutes shy of midnight……"So are we going to the Colombian?". We all knew what this meant. It was the lull before a bender. My heart sank and my liver quivered at the suggestion. P and I exchanged a knowing glance of "fuck….are we going to do this?". P had been away from all the action for a year and 2008 thankfully has been a relatively quiet year for me .... so we were ripe for the picking. Trev is 41 and is a seasoned party professional. As are the other forty somethings in our group. They've all been going out every weekend since the strobe light was invented and have an amazing continual zest for activities of the night. So faster than you could say Amy Winehouse, we were off to The Colombian and soon found ourselves up, up and away and the rest as they say is history. In past years when P and I have had many of these "random" nights out, we've always ended up saying…..well it was unexpected but at least we had a good time. And I'm sure we did in the past but now it just seems a bit tired. Yes we went everywhere; Colombian, Shift, Arq, back to Shift, back to Colombian, Wil and Toby's, Shift….Phoenix…the list goes on…and we met five thousand strangers with whom we shared our deepest thoughts, philosophies, cigarettes and phone numbers and made promises as shallow as the niteclub stamps on on our arms : "lets stay in touch, I think we're going to be great friends, I love that top, we must do this again". Bla bla bla.

2008 for me has been the Year of Living Quietly……finally. After several failed attempts in the past couple of years to cut down on night hopping, this year I've taken up cooking, reading and couch-sitting instead. Not to mention I've fallen back in love with sleep. Don't get me wrong, in the 8 years I've spent in Sydney town, I've had one hell of a time and it's been loads of fun. I always remember the advice though of an old queen I met when I first arrived in Sydney; "Be careful not to go out at 26 and come home at 44 and wondered what on earth happened." There were a good couple of years where it seemed that I was completely ignoring his advice. I started seeing a guy at the time who led me into the world of late night parties and dayclubs. I loved it. We loved it. I took P along for the ride. The love affair with the guy soon ended but not my love affair with party life. P & I were out like a pair of old glow sticks every weekend. After a couple of years of night after night jumping up and down in a dark room with pretty lights and booming music staring at people doing the exact same thing, it all became rather dull . I realised by the end of last year, I was not finding it fun anymore. So I stopped.

Apart from Mardi Gras, my dance card has been delightfully dull and after my big Friday night out with Trev, P and the gang, I have confirmed that I want it to stay that way. The best part of Friday evening was dinner at the bistro, champagne cocktails at Judy's and the great conversations in between; actually spending time with my friends and not staring at them through a haze of dry ice and sweat speaking in consonants whilst keeping your peripherals on guard for the entrance your knight in shining armour is never gonna make.

The Twilight State

Last Thursday New South Wales saw another change in its state administration with Morris "Dilemma" Iemma stepping down as Premier after he realised he didn't have the numbers within the Labor Party Caucas to continue to preside. The tide started turning on the Tuesday when Iemma announced a cabinet re-shuffle following the resignation of his deputy, John Watkins, and former minister John Della Bosca being cleared of all charges in the Iguana-Gate Affair. Mr Della-Bosca left cabinet to sit on the back bench while the matter was investigated by both State and Federal police and finally reviewed by the State and Commonwealth DPPs. He was cleared of all charges on Tuesday. Mr Della-Bosca was one of the few efficient and competent ministers Mr Iemma had in his cabinet and as a result Mr Iemma was desperate to have him back on board. Mr Iemma was also using this opportunity to get rid of quite a number of under-performing and/or controversial ministers in particular the no holds barred Treasurer, Michael Costa. The previous two weeks for Mr Costa and Mr Iemma had been particularly trying with their unsuccessful attempts to get their proposals to privatise the NSW Electricity Commission through the NSW parliament. The Upper House ended up rejecting the entire bill. Mr Iemma sacked Mr Costa on the Wednesday night. Mr Costa was not going to go quietly though calling a press conference Thursday morning informing everyone loud and clear of the dire financial situation NSW finds itself. NSW it seems is no longer the Premier State, in danger of losing it's AAA credit rating.

If Costa was going down, he wasn't going on his own. Using politic spin, he basically said "we're fucked"; NSW is out of money and it's not his problem anymore. The writing was on the wall for Iemma. By lunch he realised he didn't have the numbers. By 2pm he had resigned and by 4pm a new shining knight was appointed as Premier. It was all very Shakespearean.

Nathan Rees has been in the NSW parliament less than 18 months and is now Premier of New South Wales. From Western Sydney, he was formerly a green keeper, then a public servant followed by a stint as an advisor to Morris Iemma. He is 41 years of age and is to be married in November. He is NSW's youngest ever Premier. Carmel Tebbutt has been appointed deputy premier. I still can't fathom why the Labor Caucas has appointed someone whom the community does not know and who has very limited experience over someone like Tebbutt who has been the only decent consistent minister this government has had over the last ten years. Perhaps she didn't want the job or probably more than likely the boys club that is the NSW Labor Right didn't want her.

My estimation of Mr Rees dropped immediately when he announced on Monday he wanted to talk to the homeless because he wanted to understand why people in this day and age would be homeless. I always become very suspicious of politicians who want to play Mother Theresa. It means usually they have absolutely no fresh ideas and are grandstanding. Kevin Rudd did the same thing with alco-pops and fuel watch and John Howard did the same thing with the military intervention in the child protection crisis in the Northern Territory.

I can tell you Mr Rees why there are so many homeless not only in this state but in others is because successive state governments (yours included) have practically shut down the mental health systems in this country leaving people with mental health issues either to be left on the street or in jail. That is pretty much the mental health system in this country these days: truancy or jail. And you don't have to wander down and talk to Jo Homeless Blow under his blanket in the St James tunnel to find that out. In fact Jo Homeless Blow will probably tell you that he's perfectly happy where he is and he'd rather be in a tunnel than being stabbed in an understaffed under funded homeless shelter.

Mr Rees also announced that there is a billion dollar shortfall in the state coffers. Woops. Can I ask a stupid question? NSW has been under Labor Party rule now for almost 13 years. The next election is two years away. What I want to know is why this state is in such a fiscal mess when Australia, the country, the nation state has just had 15 years of the biggest economic growth it has ever seen?

Nathan Rees says he wants to make a clean change, get rid of the dead wood, prove to his constituents that his new team is capable of good governance; yet on Monday he announces his new front bench which will include none other than Eric Roozendaal and Joe Tripodi, and all their right faction cronies. Joe Tripodi has had so many scandals in the last couple of years that he should just move his offices into the ICAC building (Independent Commission Against Corruption). To add insult to injury both Roozendaal and Tripodi have been appointed to administer the state's finances as Treasurer and Finance Minister. And Rees says he is not being dictated to by the factions of the Labor Party? Please…come on. The new Premier even conceded himself that he formulated his cabinet based on a list of names handed back and forth with NSW Labor Party Head Office Chief, Mr Karl Bitar. And so the charade continues…

This state government is being run in the twilight. The light is not clear enough to show what is really happening. Mr Rees is yet another puppet of the right faction of the Labor Party and while that happens, NSW and it's administration will continue to resemble something out of 80s Queensland but even worse….at least Joh Bjelke Peterson had the nouse to leave the Sunshine State (or the Moonlight State as it was nicknamed then) in good fiscal condition when his corrupt government was kicked out. NSW on the other hand is not only corrupt but it's also broke.

C

Maybe

You See the World Through Blue Colored Glasses

You live your life with tranquility. You have faith that things will work themselves out with time. You judge all your interactions through the lens of hope. You try to get all the facts before forming your opinion. You face challenges with wisdom. You know that all bad things pass, and you have the confidence to see problems through. You see love as the utmost expression of trust. Your relationships tend to be peaceful and stable. At your worst, you can be cool, melancholy, and detached. You sometimes have to step back from emotionally charged situations. You are at your happiest when you are able to reflect and relax.

What Color Glasses Do You See the World Through?

.......and that's why I drink.....

C

Not Without My Filing Cabinets

Because of the re-structure our team is being moved again. I've been here two years and this is my third move in that time. Sigh. Not to mention that I will lose my harbour views; albeit slightly obstructed by the Deutche Bank and Westpac buildings. We moved to this floor about 14 months ago and I have really taken the views for granted. It has been most pleasant to come in of a morning, munch on my porridge and look out on the boats bobbing up and down on the harbour; although not today where the only thing bobbing are droplets on my window pane; yes rain and fog……just in time for the weekend. Sigh again. We are being moved out of this building completely to another building a block away. Basically the organisation has outgrown the current premises and until the new premises is completed by 2010, staff are spread throughout three different buildings. And my team has appeared to score the rotten egg; we are being moved to a shopping centre. We inspected the office earlier this week and it is open/open plan. No one has an office ….which I can't stand and the work stations are built for persons who are size zero. The décor and interior design is straight out of turn of the century Ikea with everything stark white except for the carpet which is fluoro lime green. It will be like working in a glass of Midori. There is also no storage space. I've already had an argument with the Removals Manager, who insists that we are not allowed to take anything from our current offices. I have a large number of files, which are stored in three considerably sized filing cabinets in my office. I need my files close by and as a result, I need these filing cabinets to come with me. The Removals Manager seems to think that having my files stored in the vicinity of Eastern Europe will suffice. She has suggested that my files be stored in the basement of this building, which I remind you, is essentially a shopping centre. I will be going to collect my files whilst Coles is delivering their fresh fruit and veges. That would be handy I guess; I could do my grocery shopping at the same time.

I did my first theatresports show last night in four months in the new theatreports venue which is a pub in Glebe. I was so rusty. In the warm up before we did the show, I seemed to be incapable of speaking or understanding English. Firstly we did the warm up in the back beer garden of the hotel where there was Spice Girls music blaring constantly through the speakers. I couldn't hear anyone speak and was quite stunned that such music was still played in overtly straight venues. To add to this strange distraction, I was then paired with Mr Hot Guy. Tall, chunky, big hands, big nose; he had that whole Vince Vaughn slapstick thing going on. He was funny, cocky and hot. My confidence packed its bags and left me immediately. Of course we were first up to play a warm-up game. Mr Hot Guy started the game and in response I became Jodie Foster in Nell making strange noises; not really the intended outcome of the game. My friends Jess, Em and Jack (also playing) just looked at me with that stark familiarity of "I know you but please forgive me if I don't acknowledge you in public anymore." The warm up games continued participants easing in and out of witty offers and cheeky responses while I lay in consonant constipation attempting to find the connection between my tongue and my brain. Unfortunately it had left when it saw confidence walk out the door. I was now absolutely the loser of the group; the remedial kid; the kid who no one wants on their ball team; the kid whose parents are called by the teacher to discuss his delayed progress; the kid who takes his mother to the formal. That was me; anyone who was forced to play with me viewed me as nothing more than a tax deduction. All I needed was a change box wedged to my forehead and I could have collected for the guide dogs.

After the warm up, we had to be broken up into three teams. At this point I wanted to pretend to develop a brain tumour, apologise for my sudden withdrawal and quietly leave. But I was still in the midst of lingual paralysis and thus couldn't beg pardon. I remained and was placed in the Green team thankfully with my friends Jack and Jess and another more experienced theatresporter (lets call him ET) who hadn't washed his hair since the war…..am not sure which one. ET was actually on two teams: both the red and the green teams as one theatresporter had failed to show. ET didn't seem that impressed with us Greens and quickly bedded down with the Reds. I of course attributed such a manoeuvre to me being the theatresports equivalent of Mr Stinky.

Our first challenge as the Green Team was the game Death in A Minute which was quite apt actually considering I did want to die. The title of the scene was Parent Teacher Interviews and within a minute, one of the characters must die. Jack and I immediately entered the scene; Jack assumed the role of the teacher, I assumed the role of the parent and we were to discuss my son Roger. Jack indicated that Roger was quite violent having hit him on several occasions. He said that this must stop. I agreed it was a problem but perhaps he was over-reacting. I at first was simply relieved that I could speak English and interact with another human being. We continued the scene where I admitted that I fed my son Roger speed and perhaps this was leading him to be somewhat violent. Jess then entered the scene as the hyperactive speed inflicted son Roger. She was hilarious ……kind of like a chiwawa on crack. In awe of her comic genius, I then momentarily developed lingual paralysis again. Jack and Jess continued to interact and Jess as Roger died within the minute. We survived the first game….no thanks to ET who didn't assist at all….but strangely assisted the Red team. Mmmmmmm.

Our second challenge involved the game Emotional Replay which is one of my favourite games. It requires the team to replay a normal scene with three different emotions. In this scene, we were at dog training school and we were to replay the scenes with fear, anger and ecstasy…..sounded like an average night out for me. I assumed the role of dog owner, Jack assumed the role of the dog and Jess, the role of the dog trainer. Well apart from taking method acting to a whole new level where I actually thought Jack was my dog and yanked the hood of his jacket so much that I almost broke his back, we did a fantastic scene and scored our highest points for the evening. Jack now walks a bit funny. ET remained absent yet again. In fact ET remained generally absent for the rest of our challenges except the last one, which was in fact our worst scene. It involved each participant speaking with a limited number of words. ET put his hand up for three words, Jack got one word, Jess got six words and I was the sucker who got 13 words. It was a complete nightmare; I ended up being a doctor in India who chops the arm of a servant off after it was mauled by a slightly violent white elephant. It was weird and it didn't work.

I did feel somewhat better by the end of the night and thought that I had restored some form of dignity after my Nell impersonations earlier on; not that Mr Hot Guy noticed; he was too busy re-arranging furniture at the end of the performance to care…..perhaps I should have invited him over to move my filing cabinets.

A Night at The Circus

My gorgeous friend Em scored two complimentary tickets to Cirque du Soleil's Darlion and she kindly invited me to accompany her to the show last night. It's exactly ten years since I saw Cirque du Soleil's Saltimbanco when the company first came to Australia. Funnily enough I saw that production for free as well when I was writing for a local magazine in Brisbane. Darlion is a celebration of the 4 elements that maintain the natural order: air, water, fire and earth. It had a definite Chinese theme and at times I thought I was watching a miniature re-enactment of the opening ceremony at the Beijing Olympics. You can never have enough drums and red latterns I find.

The show was a visual feast but alas like the last time I saw Cirque du Soleil, I felt like I was watching yoga set to music and after about an hour I found myself drifting off. There is only so many times you can see someone do the splits upside down. From a kid's point of view though I think the show is fantasy at it's very best; the vibrant colours, the elaborate make-up and of course the amazing acrobatics. I still remember being absolutely amazed as a child when the Moscow Circus came to Australia 25 years ago. It was escapist ecstacy. So escapist that half the circus defected here in the 80s.

As an adult though I guess I'm an old fashioned circus kind of guy where the clowns were drunk and abusive and the animals were mal-nourished and psychotic. I remember as a kid going to the local Ashton's Circus and being truly terrified of the slightly too aggressive clowns and the very tired irrational animals. As an adult, I'd find that far more entertaining than watching Suzy Flexible fold herself into an envelope.

As I always do when I am faced with boredom, I search for hot men. There were none in the production surprisingly; maybe it was because they dressed like the cast of Farscape. In the audience however, it was couplehood; hence full of bored hot straight men who'd "done the right thing" by taking their respective wives and girlfriends to a night under the Grand Chapiteau. Em and I were happily entertained in the second half of the evening browsing the audience going "Oooo isn't he gorgeous?". There were plenty to keep our eyes occupied.

As per usual the cost of drinks and food was that of a Monte Carlo bar. $6 for a soft drink, $9 for a glass of wine which came in a plastic cup and a tub of popcorn and a packet of chocolates for $12. I spent my entire interest rate cut in just one interval.

Still it was a very pleasant evening and far better than a night at home in front of the box.


And to other news….

Thanks to everyone who wrote to me re my last blog entry. I am totally fine. I've come to the conclusion I should write action novels as my last entry made the situation sound a lot worse than it really was. Having said that, I think it was the jolt I required to get my arse into gear regarding a few changes that have to be made in the future. I shall keep you posted.

Cxx

I Beg Yours.....

Have you ever had one of those days where the world as you know it appears to be sucked into a black hole and suddenly the true reality is revealed? I think that happened to me today at work just after 5pm. I decided to leave early so I was packing my things and then bang! The news first came via an email and then confirmed in person by a particular colleague. The news and thus the realisation was like a bullet to my head. The moisture drained from my mouth, my gums started to ache and I developed an instant nauseous migraine. I still can't work out whether I was shocked by the actual news and the way in which this particular colleague delivered it or whether I was disappointed in myself for yet again ignoring my gut feeling when it comes to someone's true character; my gut feeling has never been proven to be wrong; it is always right. Yet I spend my entire life ignoring it.

I left work with my face plump with hot blood and that Ebola feeling where you think your organs are about to turn to liquid. As soon as I got in the door, I threw up. I then of course wanted my mother. I then realised of course she was 2000 kms away which lead me to realise how lonely I am which then led me to bursting into tears. Usually I feel a lot better after I have a cry but this time it seemed to make me more claustrophobic. I discarded my suit, brushed my teeth, chucked on some trackies and jumper, grabbed my joggers and walked out the door.
I spent the next four hours traipsing around the inner city launching a press conference of questions on myself. I was a high achiever for the first 17 years of my life; why have I spent the next 17 years simply passing? Passing everything literally; never fully participating; never fully committing; never making up my mind; remaining a spectator while waiting for that something to find me when in fact I should be doing the finding. My father always said to me in life stick to the middle of the road.....well I have taken it one step further and stuck to the middle of the roundabout and never left. I need to leave this roundabout.

All upheaval leads to good. Who said that? Anyway it works for me. As much as I am disappointed in the turn of events at work this afternoon whether it be in myself or my colleague or most likely both, it has cleared my mind. And I think it is time for a big change. A change that I saw coming but I think will be brought forward substantially. It will most likely lead to cancelling my holidays in November ( if I can still do that??) and bringing my other plans forward. This will depend on a couple of things falling into place in the next couple of weeks. Stay tuned…..

I think this has been my most schizophrenic post yet. Can someone fetch me a pale of scotch?

C

PS : And no, I haven't been fired.

.....just don't ask