Snow is Oslo?

I am in Oslo and I am certain I saw snow.

It may be Thanksgiving Day for some of my colleagues but some of us are still working. I am, however, lucky enough to be in Oslo. I flew in last night. It was dark when I arrived but there was an unmistakable hint of snow on the ground at the airport. Considering all the trips I make to this part of the world, I have been a little disappointed that I have never seen a great deal of snow here. I was particularly saddened that there was no snow in Helsinki recently. Alas, by the time I made the centre of Oslo there was nothing to be seen.

Thoughts on Helsinki

There are six things that I learnt on this trip to Helsinki. Well, six that I want to note right here. And Robbie Williams is one of them!

Thoughts on an November in Helsinki:

  • They recycle everywhere
  • The people are gorgeous
  • It’s not as cold as you would have expected
  • I missed the snow – it was a couple of weeks ago
  • I’ve just had the best pasta meal I’ve had outside of Italy
  • And Robbie Williams in appearing in town. You hear his name “Robbbbbbbbeeeeeeeee” everywhere

Flight Time Thinking

The Finair flight is usually very good except for their inability to give me any kind of e-ticket on the London/Helsinki route and, in one easy move, reduce my stress about losing tickets. The flight is about three hours long and gives me the chance to stop and think. I generally travel alone and fellow passengers are not always the greatest conversationalists so I am able to enjoy the relative silence.

I have written before of my business travels to Helsinki but this is the first time I am going in the winter. I am writing this on board the Finair flight. I expect darkness and a cold air but it’s going to be interesting to me. I imagine that any photographs will be of limited use (given that I will be in offices during daylight hours).

The Finair flight is usually very good except for their inability to give me any kind of e-ticket on the London/Helsinki route and, in one easy move, reduce my stress about losing tickets. The flight is about three hours long and gives me the chance to stop and think. I generally travel alone and fellow passengers are not always the greatest conversationalists so I am able to enjoy the relative silence. I tend not to listen to music on flights and so I read. I read work papers and things I printed from the web; I read books and newspapers but, above all, I read them and think for a while.

Today, however, is the first time that I think I have been able to appreciate that time. I’m not sure why I have not noticed this feeling before. My brain suddenly seems uncluttered: there is none of the normal chaos to distract me. No television, no radio and no web-access to stimulate my thoughts in a hundred million directions. No commuters or people to annoy, frustrate or distract me. No, for this brief period, my brain has wandered in the directions it has wanted to and it is a strangely liberating experience.

Earlier this year I also mentioned that I find flying a strange experience. I have done it so much for work (and much, much less for pleasure) that it should be like taking a bus. I do not lie awake at night worrying about a journey and have discovered that the art to staying relaxed in airports is to give yourself time. I don’t really mind where they sit me – as long as I can stow my bag – and I am used to many of the strange noises a plane makes. Yet this exterior of calm hides an absolute fear every time we hit the tiniest pocket of turbulence. Regardless of how many stray air-pockets I have flown through I know my blood pressure must rise alarmingly when the plane shakes.

And so, despite the relative freedom my mind has to wander and wonder on today’s flight, it is regularly brought back to reality at every minor shake of a plane.

Snap Out Of It

I’m not sure what rot has set in but it’s about time I got out of it. In a bizarre way, a freshly ironed pair of trousers made my morning all the better today. I can’t explain that one and I am not going to try.

Yet again, I have been in Helsinki (see May or August) and yet again I did not get to see very much of it. This time, however, it is all my own fault as I did have a couple of spare hours after the meeting and I filled them by wandering around the shops rather than doing something useful.

In fact, this has been the theme for my life for the past week or so. I haven’t found the enthusiasm to do very much at all and given it was my birthday at the end of last week, this seems very sad.

I’m not sure what rot has set in but it’s about time I got out of it. In a bizarre way, a freshly ironed pair of trousers made my morning all the better today. I can’t explain that one and I am not going to try.

What have I missed out on while away? I don’t know what has happened this week in the Hutton Inquiry (which is I have been following with some interest). However, on a related note, Lord King was a guest on the BBC’s Hardtalk programme (shown on BBC World) on Tuesday and he provided an interesting insight into the politician/intelligence relationship.

On a lighter note, I have missed the start of The Salon (which is not bad thing) and Jase introduced us to the concept of Washboard Envy!

Helsinki Re-Visited

I am not exactly sure of the time at the moment for I am in Helsinki and my clock is yet to adjust. I am back in a city that I had promised to re-visit but I still am here on business with no time to see anything.

I am not exactly sure of the time at the moment for I am in Helsinki and my clock is yet to adjust. I am back in a city that I had promised to re-visit but I still am here on business with no time to see anything.

It was a pleasant journey indeed. I have never before been on a flight that had an all-male cabin crew. Despite what the Captain called “a bit of an incident” on a runway at Heathrow (no idea what) we managed to arrive in time.

Hopefully, I have packed all that I need to have – I tried to be organised last night but I failed. I did remember to call Barclaycard and tell them I was heading out of the country. They have started requesting that you tell them when you will be away so that they know the charges appearing on your account are not fraudulent. I think I should applaud that move but it’s a pain to remember to call. If you don’t you run the risk of the card not working upon arrival. I suspect I should be grateful but, instead, I remain paranoid that the card will not work and leave me stranded in some foreign hotel with no way of paying them.

Helsinki Jazz

Listening to Jazz in the centre of Helsinki

Helskink Jazz
Sunshine & Jazz

Yet again I am travelling. I have never been to Finland before and today, I am in Helsinki. This afternoon I was listening to a Jazz band in the sunshine. Honestly, this is work. I’m going to try and put some more pictures online later but for now I want to go to bed. The light kept me awake last night. Look at the figures for today – May 28, 2003: Sunrise: 4:16 AM and Sunset: 10:21 PM

Fly Away

I never really had a fear of flying – at least not in the sense it stopped me doing anything. I just get nervous at take-off and then, generally, I am fine. I like a decent sized jet with seats that have sufficient padding on the arms so that, when I grip them, my knuckles can go white without serious injury to my hands

Why do I put myself through this on a regular basis? Occasionally I have to travel for work. Travel, they say, broadens the mind and I am sure that it does. But sometimes I wonder why I have to put myself through the ordeal.
I am not the greatest person to get on an aeroplane but for the best part of four years my working life has meant dealing with (and visiting) customers across Europe. I really enjoy these trips and it’s great to meet people face-to-face that you would only normally deal with on the telephone or via email. And, although I shouldn’t moan, the downside is that I never get to see any of the fantastic places that I go to. I’ve lost count of the number of times that I have been to Milan and never seen anything other than airports, offices and taxis. It’s such a shame.
I never really had a fear of flying – at least not in the sense it stopped me doing anything. I just get nervous at take-off and then, generally, I am fine.  I like a decent sized jet with seats that have sufficient padding on the arms so that, when I grip them, my knuckles can go white without serious injury to my hands. Once in the air, I am OK. Nothing to bother me until the return journey. So it’s not really too bad travelling to most of Europe for business. I appreciate the fact that I can travel and count myself lucky that it’s only a few minutes of unease.
So, here I am today in Dundee.  I have customers to see here who are very pleasant people to work with. I’ve been planning this trip for a couple of weeks and I had planned to take the train until I realised that, at best, it was going to be a six hour journey.  I had to take a flight to give me any chance of doing some other work today.
Now these flights are the worst. I can’t stand the small 30-seater planes (that seem to be a cross between propeller and jet driven) that bring you here. My nerves are shot and my palms sweaty. At take-off it’s easy to mistake the arm of the person in the next seat with that of the plane. Again, I am fine once high enough not to be shaken around by a passing air current that, I suspect, has desires to knock us 500 miles off course. That moment, however, as we’re picking up speed and racing down a runway, sends a panic through me that I hate.  Unlike those other journeys, these small planes seem to make me sweat and grip for longer than normal. The planes don’t go as high and so I can see the land – which I don’t think is good for me.
The fear is, of course, irrational – at least these flights are no different from the others. The more nervous I get about taking this short flight the worse I feel. I know that it is silly and I become annoyed by my own fear – I’ve taken so many flights it should be like taking a bus (which I think I do less than flying). I can’t stop the sick feeling. Every lurch of the plane, every shake and noise is analysed in a way I do not do with larger aircraft. Every expression on the stewardesses face analysed for a sign – should that clunk have happened? Should that beep be sounding? Should this window rattle so much?
And the very worst bit of it all? I know I have to do it backwards tomorrow evening.
Next time, I’ll take the train (maybe).

Why do I put myself through this on a regular basis? Occasionally I have to travel for work. Travel, they say, broadens the mind and I am sure that it does. But sometimes I wonder why I have to put myself through the ordeal.

I am not the greatest person to get on an aeroplane but for the best part of four years my working life has meant dealing with (and visiting) customers across Europe. I really enjoy these trips and it’s great to meet people face-to-face that you would only normally deal with on the telephone or via email. And, although I shouldn’t moan, the downside is that I never get to see any of the fantastic places that I go to. I’ve lost count of the number of times that I have been to Milan and never seen anything other than airports, offices and taxis. It’s such a shame.

I never really had a fear of flying – at least not in the sense it stopped me doing anything. I just get nervous at take-off and then, generally, I am fine.  I like a decent sized jet with seats that have sufficient padding on the arms so that, when I grip them, my knuckles can go white without serious injury to my hands. Once in the air, I am OK. Nothing to bother me until the return journey. So it’s not really too bad travelling to most of Europe for business. I appreciate the fact that I can travel and count myself lucky that it’s only a few minutes of unease.

So, here I am today in Dundee.  I have customers to see here who are very pleasant people to work with. I’ve been planning this trip for a couple of weeks and I had planned to take the train until I realised that, at best, it was going to be a six hour journey.  I had to take a flight to give me any chance of doing some other work today.

Now these flights are the worst. I can’t stand the small 30-seater planes (that seem to be a cross between propeller and jet driven) that bring you here. My nerves are shot and my palms sweaty. At take-off it’s easy to mistake the arm of the person in the next seat with that of the plane. Again, I am fine once high enough not to be shaken around by a passing air current that, I suspect, has desires to knock us 500 miles off course. That moment, however, as we’re picking up speed and racing down a runway, sends a panic through me that I hate.  Unlike those other journeys, these small planes seem to make me sweat and grip for longer than normal. The planes don’t go as high and so I can see the land – which I don’t think is good for me.

The fear is, of course, irrational – at least these flights are no different from the others. The more nervous I get about taking this short flight the worse I feel. I know that it is silly and I become annoyed by my own fear – I’ve taken so many flights it should be like taking a bus (which I think I do less than flying). I can’t stop the sick feeling. Every lurch of the plane, every shake and noise is analysed in a way I do not do with larger aircraft. Every expression on the stewardesses face analysed for a sign – should that clunk have happened? Should that beep be sounding? Should this window rattle so much?

And the very worst bit of it all? I know I have to do it backwards tomorrow evening.

Next time, I’ll take the train (maybe).

Views of Florence

I’ve spent just a little over 24 hours in Florence. Most of the time I had a meeting and was working, but for the final hour of daylight I managed to walk around a little bit. The biggest surprise of all was how cold it was. There was a very chill wind and I could have used several more layers of clothing.

I’ve spent just a little over 24 hours in Florence. Most of the time I had a meeting and was working, but for the final hour of daylight I managed to walk around a little bit. The biggest surprise of all was how cold it was. There was a very chill wind and I could have used several more layers of clothing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I didn’t get to see any of the art of Leonardo da Vinci (his apprenticeship was in the workshop of Andrea del Verrocchio in Florence in 1466) but I did get to see Duomo – designed by Arnolfo di Cambio at the end of the 13th century – and Ponte Vecchio (still standing from 1345).

It’s a old city with narrow streets and plenty of squares. The best way to get around seems to be on foot – or in typical Italian style on some kind of moped. Of course I had to take the final picture. What are they up?

Market Day

But mainly I am disconcerted by the food. Forget the olives and the smoked meats which look so very tempting. It’s the regular fruit and vegetable stall that amazes me.

The sun was shining over the villa’s swimming pool and the breeze was light across the patio. Boxing Day, the day to recover from the excesses of the previous day, was the perfect day to wander into the nearest town and, upon arrival, we found the local market in (almost) full swing.

The market in Javea town is the kind of market that you do not see too often at home. One wonders, however, if much of it is there for the tourist trade. I am assured it was different last week but the Christmas holidays mean there are fewer traders.

I am taken with several things at the market. Firstly, it is very friendly. This may seem an odd thing to say but I find this kind of street-stall market back home often borders on the agressive. Traders don’t so much ply their wares but thrust them upon you. Secondly, it’s a very mixed market. There is food (to take home) and food to eat while wandering but there are household goods, clothes and a large (very large) selection of leather bags.

Thirdly, I am taken aback by the lack of labels. Walk round my local market on a Sunday morning and all the clothes stalls are straining under the weight of Tommy, Nike or whatever today’s fashion label is (the authenticity of the goods I cannot vouch for). Here, it all seems remarkably brandless.

But mainly I am disconcerted by the food. Forget the olives and the smoked meats which look so very tempting. It’s the regular fruit and vegetable stall that amazes me. The range is astounding and we couldn’t name all the fruits on show. They also look real. By this I mean they are of varying colours, shapes, sizes and, to be honest, in various states of decay. The aren’t the identical specimens you find on the shelves of your local supermarket at home. Of course, I know I can find home/farm-produced organic foodstuffs in England but I’d just forgotten and this market is the day I was reminded.

Maybe it should be a resolution for the new year. Find and use my local farmer’s market.

Happy Christmas

I am in Javea on Spain’s Costa Blanca for Christmas. The usual grey skies and frost of a British Christmas Day are part of the experience for me and have been all my life. The sun and the warmth were a little disorienting at first. Now, of course, I realise Christmas is still the same.

I am in Javea on Spain’s Costa Blanca for Christmas. It’s very different yet very similar. I have family around me. We had turkey and all the trimmings yesterday and opened presents around a (paper) tree. We have plenty of (cheap, Spanish) wine, Christmas pudding and mince pies. The sun, however, is shining and we are able to sit outside and sit in the warmth (if there is a sheltered spot from the wind).

The usual grey skies and frost of a British Christmas Day are part of the experience for me and have been all my life. The sun and the warmth were a little disorienting at first. Now, of course, I realise Christmas is still the same.

Happy Christmas.

Baby News

The christening was yesterday. It was great – apart from the rain that soaked us as we walked to the church

The christening was yesterday. It was great – apart from the rain that soaked us as we walked to the church. Even though I did not understand a word of the ceremony (and there were two babies being christened and a confirmation) it’s still quite a thing to see all these people stand in front of a congregation and wet the babies head. Of course the party afterwards was good, meeting people that I had not seen since Cheryl & Thomas’ wedding some eleven years ago. It’s always great food. For some reason, I love Norwegian food (although some would say I just love food). The evening part was spent sitting on the patio as the sun set talking about old times and house-buying. Shame to be back really – although I would really love my bed right now.

The Taxi Cometh

I head off to the airport shortly. I spent a good proportion of last night packing and, therefore, seem to have only had three hours sleep. I really need to organise my life more to prevent this kind of thing from happening. I do not like the lack of sleep and yet, every time I travel, I seem to end up in this kind of situation.

Somehow, I seem to ignore the five golden rules of travelling without stress

  1. Buy gifts a week in advance
  2. Iron two days in advance
  3. Pack a day in advance
  4. Get to bed early before travelling
  5. Have bottle of water to take to airport

A Weekend Airbourne

A weekend flying is ahead for me.

Weekend plans. I am going to a christening, which in itself does not seem an odd thing to do at the weekend. I am, however, flying at 0630 tomorrow morning to Amsterdam, then to Stavanger and then on to Kristiansand, Norway. I arrive mid-afternoon. The christening is on Sunday. Come Monday morning, I board the 0700 for Copenhagen and then on to London to get me back to make it into my office mid-morning. There are several people who think I am, somehow, unbalanced in attempting to do this and stay awake.

Paris In The Summer

I have never been so hot while in meetings – which I think added to the sense of exhaustion by the time my head hit my pillow.

I don’t know what to think. I am so tired. I had a business meeting in Paris Monday. Travelled Eurostar. It’s usually fabulous. Up at 4.30 to make the 6.20 train was OK but the 18:16 return train was delayed by four (count them, 4) hours (sat on the train for 2 of them) and so I wasn’t actually back at my house until nearly 1am. 21+ hour day – now that’s what I call working. And I probably didn’t achieve very much!

Paris was baking. I have never been so hot while in meetings – which I think added to the sense of exhaustion by the time my head hit my pillow.

Have you ever thought how the internet is feeling (apparently, it has emotions). Right now, it’s looking The current mood of the Internet at www.imood.com (honest).