End of an (awful) era

After fourteen years of incompetence, bad judgement, greed, lies and downright stupidity the Tory party are no longer in power.

Thank you Jesus.

I know I'm being a bit flippant there – but I do wonder if sometimes the big guy upstairs intervenes from time to time to boot out the bad apples in government. It's a deep theological question, but I think there's a lot of truth going on with that whole idea (not that I've got the time or academic nouse to go into any detail).

Anyhoo, Rishi Sunak is no longer Prime Minister and a lot of his cronies are out of a job. How deeply satisfying.

It's a bittersweet victory though. Labour have very much pulled to the right in order to woo floating conservative voters, playing it safe and offering a manifesto that's vague and uninspiring. Not only that, they've inherited a broken Britain plagued by rising NHS waiting lists, overflowing prisons, polluted rivers and a cost of living crisis (to name just a few problems).

Reform have gained five seats, pandering to the illiogical and frankly stupid fear of immigrants held by people. who have been lied to. The Tories are not completely wiped out and no doubt they will bide their time until they can have another go at getting into power. Plus the percentage of actual voters was painfully low, with a huge proportion of the country simply uninterested in who governs the country.

Still, at least the LibDems, Greens and Plaid increased their seats. And Labour do have a few good ideas floating about such as a national power company. Whether they'll do it or not is the question.

For the first time in many years, I feel a bit more hopeful about things going forward. To think, my children will live in a country that for once in a generation isn't run by public schoolboys on the take.

The only downer is that Trump is doing well across the pond, and if he wins in November we're all screwed.

 

Facing the Three Peaks

I've always enjoyed going for a walk and getting out into nature. Back when I was a kid we lived in a valley surrounded by fields and woods so I'd often head out into the countryside either to take the dogs for a walk or just explore. These days I live in the city and don't have a dog so all that nature stuff is a lot less accessible but I've always tried to make a concerted effort to carve out time in my schedule to get a walk in - whether it's to the Glamorgan coast (places like Monknash or Duvraven Bay), the Whips to the north of Cardiff or further afield like Bannau Brycheiniog. I do find going for a long walk clears away the cobwebs and from a spiritual point of view it help to give me a chance to reconnect with God.

Looking out over Cardiff from Ruperra Motte

Going for a walk is a bit different to climbing a mountain, though, and that's something I ended up doing at the end of June as part of a fundraising effort by my business networking group. We chose to attempt the Welsh Three Peaks challenge, which involved climbing the three highest peaks in Wales within a 24-hour period.

I'd not really heard of this particular challenge before. I was well aware of the UK Three peak challenge (Ben Nevis, Scarfell Pike and Snowdon) and always fancied doing it but it felt a bit out of reach. Doing three peaks in Wales (Snowdon, Cadair Idris and Pen Y Fan) seemed a lot more do-able so I was eager to give it a go.

I did as much training as I could, taking a few hours after church on Sunday to walk the Whips, although it wasn't the most challenging of terrain. Early on I'd bought some new walking boots especially but they soon began to feel quite uncomfortable and I realised I had to invest in a better brand of footwear. My replacement pair were one size bigger and felt very comfy. They also had decent waterproofing which was essential.

My most important training experience was climbing in the Lake District. Fortuitously, my cousin was having a 50th birthday hiking weekend two weeks before the Three Peaks challenge and Scafell was on the itinerary for the occasion. It was a tough hike, with a very steep climb at the start, made more unpleasant by the rain. Three of my brothers were there too and it was great to hang out with them for a weekend – something we rarely get to do. I didn't particularly enjoy the experience but I was pleased with myself that I did it. I was also glad my boots remained dry for the entire event. 

Looking East towards Scafell Pike (obscured by rain, obviously)

So, I managed to tick off one of the UK peaks while celebrating my cousin's birthday and getting some much needed training in.

When it was time for the challenge, I felt as prepared as I could be – although I was dreading the possibility of getting soaked. It's not like Wales is famed for its mild climate and glorious sunshine, and getting wet on Scafell Pike certainly put a dampener on things (excuse the pun).

We drove up together in a minibus to Caernarvon on the Friday, our accommodation being a very cheap and basic Travelodge. Leaving the following morning at 7.30am, it was already raining and only got worse as we walked on. I had my plastic poncho which made me feel a bit stupid but helped keep the rain off a bit. It was quite windy in some places and there were a few steep climbs but we made the Snowdon summit at 11am. The walk down was fairly steady and the rain eased off a bit. My boots, however, succumbed to the wet and were annoyingly sodden by the time we got to the bus. Not good.

Cadair Idris Peak behind me

We changed in the toilets then drove to a shop for a quick pitstop to get food. After about ninety minutes of driving we arrived at Cadair Idris. On the way there it seemed to brighten up which gave cause for hope but then it started raining again once we'd parked up so that was a bit depressing. The initial climb was steep and hard work but it eased off a bit. When we got to the top it was pretty wet and we finally reached the summit at 7pm. There was a bothy nearby so we went in there to dry off a bit and have some food. Walking down was OK at the start but then it got progressively harder as it got steeper. It was about 11pm when we got back to the van. We had another change of clothes then a drive to Pen Y Fan with a service station stop for coffee, Coca Cola and chocolate to refuel the body and try and stay awake.

We arrived at Pen-Y-Fan about two in the morning. It was fairly dry at first but then the rain worsened. The climb was a steady gradient which wasn't too bad, but visability was no-existent save for our head torches – so not being able to see our destination because of the dark made for a frustrating game of checking Google Maps every ten minutes. Eventually we reached the summit at 3am. It was cold and wet so we quickly took our group photo and made our way to the finish. Being easier to walk back down, we got to the car park after about an hour. I got home at about five in the morning and had a good sleep until midday. The rest of the day I did feel a bit spaced out but at least I took it easy and didn't do much. Plus we had Domino's for tea so that was a nice reward!

It felt great to complete the challenge, and it was well within the twenty four hour time frame, so I was pleased with myself. We raised over £1,700 for Shelter (a great cause) and it was a good bonding experience with my fellow hikers.

Even so, I wouldn't say I enjoyed the experience. I do prefer to walk without having to hurry or keep to a schedule. The time pressure took a bit of fun out of it and made me walk a bit quicker than I probably needed to. The rain really didn't help, although by the time we'd started climbing Cadair Idris I'd say I was used to it and it wasn't such a big deal.

I did get to see some stunning scenery, although most of the time I didn't see anything beyond cloud cover. I think if the weather had been dry I would have felt a bit more positive about the experience. That being said, if it had been sweltering heat (it was June after all) I would have complained about that.

So what next? Am I going to continue on this madness? Well, I certainly won't be rushing to do such a thing again. But seeing as I've done two of the three UK peaks, I'd be keen to give Ben Nevis a go just so I've completed them all.

But if I do, I won't rush. And maybe I'll get to enjoy the scenery a bit more.

The Problem with Zack Snyder's Rebel Moon

Zach Snyder’s Rebel Moon: A Child of Fire is a bombastic and slick sci-fi ‘epic’ that tries desperately to channel some Star Wars energy into a tired genre. It’s not exactly original. A loner farm girl named Kora from the moon of Veldt recruits a ragtag band of mercenaries to help her fight back against an evil empire that wants to have all of her village’s grain (in return for protection).

 
Rebel Moon isn't the worst movie ever made, but there are lots of problems with it. Poor character development is one of them, but then there's also ludicrous fight scenes that are completely lacking any logic.

 

You can’t help but draw parallels with other properties (Star Wars being the main one) doing a much better job. Obviously, Snyder is keen to kickstart a new franchise to rival George Lucas’ saga, but I don’t think Disney has much to worry about.
 

Rebel Moon’s biggest stumbling block for me, though, is the main reason why Kora chooses to rebel in the first place: the bad guys want their ‘grain’. Now, I might have missed something but why does a technologically advanced society that has the capability to travel between star systems need grain?

 
Interstellar travel is extremely difficult - and by the looks of how it’s portrayed they can fold space, which is even harder - so surely they’ve advanced technologically enough to have solved their food supply problems? It seems like far too much effort to get into a spaceship, travel several light years, land on a moon and terrorise the locals for basic ingredients for bread. I mean, haven't they cracked replicator technology like in Star Trek?

 

I'm also curious as to why the baddies have decided to pick on a small farm in the middle of nowhere. Why not larger towns or cities that exist on the titular moon? Veldt is presumably similar in scale to planet Earth (because of gravity and whatnot) and so it must have a huge landmass of continents. Imagine if the Russians or Chinese decided to steal some crops from the US and landed in, say, Jarbridge in Nevada. Not the most efficient – or clever – use of resources.

 

I'm not a fan of relentlesly picking holes in movies – hell, some of the greatest movies of all time have glaring plot holes in them – but there needs to be a reasonable level of subsance and logic to the story and characters for the audience to suspend disbelief just enough to enjoy the ride. Rebel Moon's grain issue (as well as all the other stuff) was too distracting for me to get fully on board with the film.

This seems to be a common problem with modern movies, in particular big budget and brash affairs that are generally steered by the bottom line rather than any sense of artistic integrity. And no, I'm not a bumbling old saddo saying things aren't 'what they used to be' because there have been some terrific films that have come out in recent years that both made sense and were truly enjoyable. 

 

It's the films that get the big headlines with either big name celebrities or big name directors that have a tendency to opt for syle over subtances, slow-mo over sense.

 

Needless to say, I don't really have any intention of watching Part 2 - although there is a morbid curiosity in me that wants to see how badly this car crash of an entity turns out. 

 

A review of the year 2023

Well, that kinda sucked.

2023 has not been the best year, and I'm glad it's over.

When I looked back on 2022, it felt like a very ‘full’ year. It seemed like I’d done lots of travelling (Africa, France, Switzerland, Scotland) and work kept me constantly busy. We also had a toddler foster child running around who was a bit of a handful. Even so, I think if I was to rate it compared to other years I would say it was a ‘good’ year overall – mostly because it was pretty varied and I felt like things had progressed well in different areas. Work seemed to be moving forward in a positive direction and my personal development was progressing slowly but surely – not just in work but with things like my Welsh studies, learning electric guitar and preaching in church.

2023, however, has been a very different kettle of fish and something of a disappointment overall.

It started well, I guess. We had a skiing trip to France in February which was great fun and we had a long wait before we took on a new foster child so I was able to focus on things like Welsh and guitar. What didn’t start well was work – the first three months of 2023 saw very few jobs coming in, which was a surprise because the previous year had been something of a bumper time for me. It was as if someone had turned off the tap at the end of December and then very slowly began turning it back on again over the following months. This wasn’t helped by a particularly quiet summer. Saying that, if work had been busier I don’t know how I’d have coped with the sleep deprivation. But it’s not just the lack of work that’s made me think again about my career – I’ve become quite jaded by the work that I’ve been doing. Most assignments are very samey and there’s been very little scope for creativity or autonomy.

I’ve been self-employed for the last fifteen years but only this year did I feel like I’d had enough and longed to be in the security and regularity of salaried employment. So I’ve started applying for jobs just to push some doors and see what’s out there. I’ve even had a couple of interviews but no avail – I suspect that my age and demographic are against me. Middle aged straight white Christian males are the bad guys these days so I’ve not got much hope. I will, however, keep trying in 2024 as well as reshape the business in the hope that I can turn things around.

Another difficult thing for 2023 has been the arrival of our latest foster child. Coming to us at just a few month old, it was a huge challenge from the start – mainly because the child had very poor sleep patterns and so our own sleep suffered. I spent a few months in the spare room so wifey could handle the lion’s share of night time settling. It was a long slog but by the time the child was about one, sleep had much improved thankfully. Even so, almost no two nights are the same. Sometimes they will wake in the middle of the night, other times they won't. Sometimes they will wake at 5.30am, other times it will be 7am.

Several months into the fostering, I’d decided that I couldn’t keep doing it anymore and it was then that I had to break the news to wifey. She took it well, all things considered, but given that she’d given up everything to take on this new career it was a bit of a blow. The good thing was that she had been finding things equally difficult (although not to the same extreme as me) and beginning to think about other things she could do. Thankfully we were able to work things through and agree on a way forward. We decided to continue with the placement (it would be unfair to the child to do otherwise anyway) until it was time for them to move on. In the meantime, wifey would explore options for a new career plan. She now has ambitions to be a social worker and I couldn't be more proud as I think she will do an excellent job.

Me trying to look cool in my skiing gear

Of course, some good stuff did happen in 2023. We had our new pastor and family join our church back in April, who are amazing. There have been some adjustments (there always are with this kind of things) but it's been good stuff and I'm looking forward to getting to know them better over the coming year and seeing how the church will grow and develop. I passed my Grade 2 Guitar Exam, which – given sleep deprivation at the time – was a small miracle. We had the honour of going to Scotland for my brother's wedding, which was exhausting but good fun. Then there was my other brother's civil partnership celebration in London, which again was tiring (and hot! it was the warmest day of the year!) but went well. Also, not to forget the aforementioned skiing trip to France where I actually cracked how to ski. I was able to shoot down the slopes with ease by the end of the week and officially caught the skiing bug (so I'm desperate to go again in '24).

It's hard to think back on the past twelve months with much enthusiasm. I'm just relieved it's over and looking forward to positive changes in 2024 – the foster placement should end soon and then I can focus on my work, faith and creativity (hopefully!).

Happy New Year!

A lot of hate for being late

One of my pet hates is lateness. I dislike being late, and get annoyed when others are too (although I do cut them slack if they have a genuine excuse). Of course, it depends on the occasion. The more important it is, the greater the transgression when lateness is concerned. If it’s just meeting a friend for a coffee, it’s not that big of a deal (but still irritating). If it's a crucial business meeting or a significant occasion (weddings, funerals etc.), lateness really does give the wrong impression. 

What really gets my goat, though, is people who are late all the friggin’ time. It can make my blood boil and I can’t help but have a poor regard for these people. I mean, how hard can it be to make an appointment? When you say ‘meet at 3pm’ what part of that statement do you not understand? In my view, being told to meet at 3pm and arriving twenty minutes later is the same as asking for sugar in your tea and being given salt. 3pm is not 3.20pm and sugar is not salt. Not only is it annoying, it’s disrespectful. I’m not saying my time is more important than anyone else’s, but if I agree to meet someone and they’re late they are purposefully robbing me of my time – time that I could be using for something else useful. Those twenty minutes could’ve been quite productive. Instead, because you’re late I’m sitting by myself, billy no-mates (probably just aimlessly scrolling on social media). Plus there’s the knock on effect. If I have other meetings I either have to cut my current one short or rush to make the next one. And as for a work context, it’s even worse. Not just because of the reasons I’ve mentioned but also because it simply comes across as unprofessional. As a freelancer, being late for clients all the time is not a good look - and may well jeopardise future opportunities.

The thing is, if you’re the kind of person who is always late, you probably don’t mind others being late. But if like me you find lateness annoying, you will automatically be cross with that person for being late. People like me are the ones who remember lateness and will make future decisions based on it. So, for example, I'd be less inclined to hire someone again if they demonstrated that they are unreliable and don’t care about other people’s time.

There may be an argument that strict time keeping is a ‘cultural’ thing, and that in places like, say, the African continent, being on time is not considered particularly important. Rather, times are just a vague and approximate guide. It's an important point, but may have a slightly racist aftertaste (although having visited a few African countries myself I don't think it's too off the mark). The argument goes the other way, in that there are cultures where being late is considered rude. And in some countries – such as Germany – there is even an expectation that people should arrive early for an appointment. Lateness is frowned upon much more in places other that the UK so it’s not like we are super strict here. I guess the question you need to ask is what is the dominant culture that you are living in? If you live in, say, Uganda and everyone's timekeeping is a bit slack then that's fine. But if you live in a country like the UK where lateness is considered rude or disrespectful then one should try to be on time.

As I said, lateness can be for a genuine reason. Traffic can be unpredictable or there may be a personal or family situation that comes out of the blue. It happens to all of us. But most of the time, it’s possible to arrive on time without any problems – and that’s what I simply don’t understand. It isn’t hard to be punctual. It just requires a tiny amount of planning and thought.

If you need to be at a certain place or time, just Google the ETA and work backwards from there so you know when to leave. Make sure you have a diary with appointments in them (don’t rely on emails or text messages). Confirm ahead of meetings that you have the date, place and time correct. All really simple stuff. It’s even easier these days with lots of meetings being held via Zoom or Teams – there’s no commute time so lateness isn't excuse [although I know what it’s like ... because you don’t need to travel it’s very easy to leave it until the last second to get yourself ready].

Believe me, I still fail to do these things sometimes and am always kicking myself for not doing them – they are simple things that anyone with a brain cell can do. But most of the time I arrive within 10 minutes of an agreed time without really trying. And what's bizarre is that I'm naturally chaotic. If I didn't put plans and coping strategies in place I would be all over the shop, never on time for anything. But because I care about other people (and also my own personal stress levels), I make the effort to overcome my shortcomings.

So, if you're a 'late person' do everyone a favour and put some effort into not being one.

It would make the world a much better place.

The Folly of Flying

I’m fortunate enough (if fortunate is the right word) to have flown on aeroplanes (or airplanes if you're from over the pond) fairly regularly in my life. Although I’m certainly not one of those insufferable travel blogger types who go here, there and everywhere in an attempt to gain some kind of approval online through likes and whatnot. Even so, I’ve probably travelled abroad as much as the average person and so
I’m familiar with the various ins and outs of flying. I must say, though, the excitement of galavanting across continents has lost its sheen. This is mainly because of the tedious pre and post flight process that involves endless queueing, waiting, undressing and shunting stuff around. Not only that, travelling is such an exhausting exercise - getting up before dawn to catch a flight, dealing with time zones, traipsing around unfamiliar cities on foot for far longer than you’ve ever done in your own. Who has ever arrived at their destination feeling alert and refreshed after several hours of travel? Certainly not me.

It’s partly because of this that it makes me think about the fact that flying is one of the most unnatural things we as humans can do. Just consider the actual flying machines themselves: giant pressurised tubes laden with thousands of gallons of highly flammable fuel in the wings, screaming through the sky at hundreds of miles an hour, reaching altitudes that would make your blood boil and your heart explode. One mistake by the captain or ground crew can result in catastrophic failure of the vehicle’s primary purpose - to defy gravity with maddening ease. And that’s what gets me about aircraft. They are magical. Unbelievably complex machines with millions of parts, much of them constantly moving, and many of them exposed to mind-boggling temperatures and alarming levels of pressure. Manuals for these things come in several ring binders which must be consulted during an emergency. Thousands of human minds have come together to create them and hundreds work on them day and night across the globe just to satisfy our desire for a ‘bit of a holiday’.

What’s more, it’s easy to forget that hundreds of these giant metal hulks are whizzing through the stratosphere at this very moment. Whenever you are reading this, a million people are suspended in the air sitting in rows watching a movie or consuming an overheated jumble of slop in a metal tray. Most of them aren’t really thinking about the miracle of flight and the absurdity of it all. They are completely oblivious, no doubt thinking about more mundane things.

Now, every time I board a plane I think to myself ‘this is madness, utter madness - what the blazes are we all doing?’. The way we willingly put ourselves in mortal danger like this astounds me. It must be because I’m getting old, of course. I never had these thoughts when I was younger. I absolutely loved flying in my 20s and 30s. I’m the same about rollercoasters. Used to love them before I had kids. Now, whenever I step on board I eye up the spotty teenager manning the controls and whisper a little prayer.

It’s just as well I never get to meet my aeroplane’s pilot – I’d probably be thinking he or she is far too young to catapult us into the wide blue yonder while physics tries desperately to unceremoniously bring us back to earth. I'd want to see their pilot's licence and all of their credentials before sitting back down in my cramped seat among all the other human cattle. Of course the fact that it's very hard to get into a passenger jet's cockpit without substantial training, numerous levels of security and all sorts of other checks is by the by.

I’m well aware that all of life is a risk - we face potentially fatal scenarios on a daily basis. Driving on the motorway, taking the train, eating in a restaurant. Anything could go wrong.

Thankfully, most of the time it doesn’t.

God, luck, statistics or whatever you want to believe in is on your side, most of the time. And the same is true of flying (statistically, the safest way to travel apparently).

So next time I get on a plane I need to learn to relax - and trust that the teenager up front is just as anxious not to crash as I am.

A death on the street

Yesterday our neighbour died just outside our house. He was in his car when he succumbed to a heart attack. I came home after a meeting to witness his body being put into the back of an ambulance. I knew it was a dead body because they covered the face and weren’t in any rush to leave. It was a surreal scene with police and paramedic vehicles blocking the street while neighbours stood outside their front doors looking on in shock. I didn’t know who it was at first, but it dawned on me as I began to take everything in.

The most unnerving thing was the fact that wifey and I saw him in his car earlier in the morning and she wondered if he was alright. I looked over (we were further down the street on the other side) and dismissed it as I attended to our foster son, thinking I saw him move as I looked over. I figured he was waiting for someone, maybe listening to the radio or something. It never crossed my mind that he was on the verge of death, maybe even dead already. Too much else clouding my mind - I had an appointment to keep, I was tired, I was worrying about finances or the state of the world. Maybe if I’d been more zen I would have chosen to do something. I don’t know.

A doctor friend of wifey said that most cardiac arrests outside of hospitals are fatal, so it was unlikely the outcome would have been different had we noticed earlier. And when we spoke to the neighbour’s son he reassured us we’d done nothing wrong. He was a retiree with a history of heart problems so it didn't seem much of a surprise. Perhaps it was just his time to go and things conspired to make it that way.

Still, can’t help but feel some guilt - he was right outside our house but we did nothing, and his wife is now a widow and his kids have lost their father. Damn.

I hope I can learn from this. Always err on the side of caution (even if you might feel a fool), don’t put your own petty circumstances above others and accept it may be your time to be a hero. 

It might just save a life.