God vs Delusion

What's this, I hear you cry, two posts in the space of 24 hours? Yes, I'm afraid I couldn't stop myself from posting, having heard today about Richard Dawkins's new book, The God Delusion. This book apparantly sets out to show that God does not exist, and that religion is a negative thing. Having read some extracts of the book on the BBC website, it seems to me that it's more anti-theist rambling, but I'll reserve judgment until I've read the whole thing.

I will, however, address one point which Dawkins makes, and which is a particular bugbear of mine. He discusses at length the favourite charge levelled at religion, namely that it "always leads to violence". In the present climate, it is not difficult to see why, with the threat of so-called "Islamist terror" ever-present. In the recent past, conflicts between Protestants and Catholics in Northern Ireland and between Palestinians and Jews in Israel have also given rise to such claims. I would argue, however, that far from being the cause of such strife, religion is the easy scapegoat. These conflicts are almost exclusively concerned with ownership of land or other economic resources, and have little if anything to do with the religious orientation of the groups involved.

More convincing, however, is to consider an overview of the twentieth century's major wars. The Great War was caused by an arms race, and had nothing to do with religion; the Second World War was caused by the all-consuming egotism of Adolf Hitler, who was to all intents and purposes an atheist. The Vietnam War was about political ideology, as were the Korean and Afghan wars. The Balkan conflict principally concerned ethnicity and the egos of the principle players. The First Gulf War was, again, prompted by the ego of Saddam and the response from the West in defending its economic interests. Indeed, the man responsible for more deaths than any other person in the 20th century, Josef Stalin, was an atheist who acted solely out of self-interest in order to maintain himself in power and grow the cult of his personality.

Faced with these facts, it seems somewhat outrageous to claim that religion is a major source of conflicts. It seems to me that the major source of killing and destruction in the past 100 years has been through individuals turning away from God and embracing the cult of their own ego. Ultimately, it is human failing that provokes war, not religion; the last century, which saw more human suffering than any previous, shows us that.

One final point - having discussed the religion/war claim in such detail, it occurs to me that there is a certain weakness in the overall purpose of arguments which attack religion on these grounds. By concentrating on this topic, Dawkins and others are seeking to undermine faith on the basis of its effects, and possibly the character of the various religions. They never seek to tackle the truth which underpins faith - and when they do, it is with bland statements such as "there's no evidence for a God".

If I were to take such an approach to one of 20th century science's greatest achievements, namely the discovery of the atom, I would point out that
a) I've never seen one, and I only have the word of various scientists for its existence (all of whom have a vested interest)
b) Within a very short time of the atom's "discovery", its name had been used to unleash the most destructive man-made forces ever - namely the atomic bombs which destroyed Hiroshima and Nagasaki
c) This "atom" still threatens us today, being present in the many hundreds of nuclear power stations across the West. These will all have to be decommissioned, at a huge cost - most of which will be spent on employing, er, scientists.
On this basis, science is a terribly bad thing and we should stop spending huge quantities of cash on scientists.

Ok, so I'm being slightly fascetious, but I hope you get the point. Science should not be quarreling with religion, it should be working with good Christian people to find solutions to the world's problems. Ultimately, Dawkins and his ilk can ramble on forever about how terrible religion is, but it's not going to stop me believing, and it certainly won't prevent me from trying to make this world a better place.

Alienation

As regular readers will know, it is some six months since I moved from my family's home in rural South West England to my nation's capital. Moving to London has certainly provided me with opportunities, both in furtherance of my career and in what I will, for the moment, term "social" activity.

What troubled me most about moving here, and what has continued to press upon my mind since, is the problem of social alienation which has been increasingly present in urban life since the nineteenth century. Even modern rural towns and villages maintain a sense of community (Gemeinschaft, according to Tönnies), in which individuals subordinate their own needs to that of the "greater good", believing this to be in their own self interest. Modern urban areas, by contrast, operate on a principle more accurately described as society (Gesellschaft) in which shared morality is replaced by an almost market-driven system of self interest.

In today's London, this manifests itself in a number of ways. There is a growing trend amongst young people to avoid long-term relationships, staying single in order to "enjoy life". What is troubling about this is that many consider it desirable to get drunk every night of the week and sleep with as many different people as possible. The result of this is a form of social alienation which commodifies people - whether as drinking companions or sexual playthings. This is to say nothing of the people who serve our coffee, sweep our streets and keep our transport system running - they often don't even merit acknowledgement.

Since the Industrial Revolution, many writers have sought to explain the causes of this phenomenon. Tönnies pointed out, rightly, that the loss of family bonds was a key factor (for instance, I can't remember the last time I saw any of my cousins). The fact that most people living in urban areas no longer live with, or even see their families regularly is surely a contributory factor.

Marx claimed that capitalism and commodification were to blame for the situation. There is some truth here; the fact that so many of our interactions with others are impersonal - buying coffee from a stranger in Starbucks, or asking for information from an unknown TfL worker - surely leads us to view such individuals in an almost mechanistic fashion, thus devaluing their humanity.

Georg Simmel comes perhaps closer to the truth. He argued that man has a natural "impulse to sociability", but that the nature of modern urban society led people to the creation of a defence mechanism to protect against the hostility of city life. This is, it seems to me, self-evident in London today; if one is approached by a stranger in the street asking for help or such like, the natural impulse is to avoid him, largely through fear for our safety, which subordinates concern for our fellow man.

The most obvious cause of this alienation, it seems to me, is our alienation from God and from faith in general. Feuerbach argued that the concept of God serves to alienate man from his own nature, and in an odd way he was half right. While Feuerbach (and others since, right up to modern day Objectivists) argue for a new morality based on the primacy of the human ego and self-interest, it seems to me that the breakdown of community has not achieved positive results. The alienation was never from our own nature; rather, it was from the portion of our nature which is interested only in the immediate requirements of the self. But this element of our nature has no regard for the human need for spiritual fulfillment. Objectivism and other such philosophies attempt to circumvent this by substituting human achievement as the ultimate route to such fulfillment. However, as anyone who, as a child, spent time building large towers of bricks will know, the tower just keeps getting bigger along with the ambition of its creator until it all comes crashing down.

I firmly believe that the human soul requires more than personal achievement for sustenance. While the anti-Christian theorists claimed that the spread of capitalism and egoism to all areas of society would eventually improve the human condition, in reality the personal happiness of the individual is suffering as a result. Terrible alcohol and drug related problems blight my generation, particularly in London, and more will be in store in ten or twenty years time. The answer, I believe, is not more wealth or more drunken sex; it is, rather, the love of God which binds us together in unity with Him.

Malaise? You should see the state of Iraq

This evening, President Jimmy Carter gave an extraordinary interview to BBC's Newsnight programme. In it, he was heavily critical of the Bush administration's policies on Iraq, and of Tony Blair's apparant lack of influence on them. He also spoke about the worrying breakdown of boundaries between religion and state in the US over the last 20 years, and of the impact of his own faith on his political beliefs.

Essentially there is nothing I can say here which President Carter didn't say himself - he managed to articulate everything I have been thinking recently about our present situation. I strongly urge you to watch the interview, here.

Of all the extremely good points made, the one I would like to develop here above all is the relationship between Tony Blair and George Bush. I am, and always will be, in favour of a strong friendship between our two nations and, where possible, between our two governments. However, as President Carter points out, the British government has recently been "subservient" to the policies coming out of Washington, to the extent that the our government "automatically...adopted the same policies without exerting its influence".

There was a brief three year period, 1997-2000, in which the Clinton and Blair administrations worked together effectively (although not always perfectly) to further the causes of social and political justice in the world. Since then, my government - who are traditionally allied with the Democrats - has been willing to defer to everything Washington says in order to remain America's "friend".

I have been a member of the Labour party for 12 years, and have actively campaigned for Tony Blair and the party at three General Elections. It saddens me greatly, therefore, to see my party leader give in so regularly to the policies of an administration which started off right-wing and seems intent on drifting further in that direction. It is one thing to hold right-wing views, as George Bush does; it is quite another to derive your political philosophy and support from a left-wing movement, but still to defer spinelessly to a right-wing "ally" for the purpose of maintaining an easy life. In that regard, I consider Blair's actions to be far worse than Bush's - whether he believes in them or not, he has betrayed the very people that brought him to power in the first place.

I hope President Carter's words will be heeded on both sides of the Atlantic. It is refreshing to hear a Southern Baptist, who happened also to be President, talk of the wrong that is being done in the name of Christianity at present. I'm off to find a copy of President Carter's latest book, Faith and Freedom: The Christian Challenge for the World. I imagine it'll be a fascinating read.

Vive la France!

Last week, I took a much needed week's holiday in France. Much needed, because I have been working incredibly hard and long hours the past month or so, which is partly why I haven't had much time to write this blog.

I've visited France many, many times before - the first time being way back in 1989. I've always loved the country and considered myself a Francophile, but in the past few years I haven't visited. I guess maybe I'd forgotten what the place means to me.

My apparantly rational plan was to take the Eurostar from London to Calais, hire a car, and join my parents several hundred kilometres down the coast in Normandy. (My concerns over driving a left-hand-drive manual car were quickly allayed - it's quite easy really). I'd not taken a vacation with my parents for quite a few years, so I was taking a gamble - which, thankfully, paid off. What surprised me, however, was the fact that, on a Saturday afternoon in August, the Eurostar was virtually deserted. As was the car hire place (an international company), as were the roads. Indeed, I drove along the A28 from Abbéville to its interchange with the A29, a distance of some 75km, without seeing another car! Where was everyone? I had expected that stretch of road to be packed with British people in their right-hand drive cars, disregarding the lane markings.

Normandy is particularly close to my heart, as it was the first place in France I visited all those years ago. Since then, with the 50th and 60th anniversaries of the Normandy landings, the region has regained its sense of the importance of those events and, to some extent, defines itself by them. Almost every respectable business or public building flies the French, British and American flags side-by-side; banners across the entrances to villages and towns welcome "Our Liberators". It is an oddly wonderful sight to see the Stars and Stripes, Union Flag, Tricolore (and often the EU flag as well) flown together, and one which is seldom seen elsewhere.

We were staying very close to Omaha beach (pictured) where one of the US armies landed in 1944. Visiting the American cemetary on the cliff above, where nearly 10,000 US soldiers are buried is a deeply moving experience. To walk among the headstones, reading the names, divisions and states of the fallen, really gives a sense of the waste of human life that is the inevitable consequence of war. Perhaps more moving still, however, was my visit to Arromanches, just up the coast by Gold beach, where some of the British forces landed. The remains of Churchill's famous artificial harbour (which was hidden in the River Thames to evade detection by German spotter planes) still sits in the bay there, and on the clifftop is the Cinéma Circulaire, which plays an 18-minute, 360degree film interspersing modern footage of the Norman coast with contemporary footage of the landings, much of it filmed as if from the soldiers' perspective. It really impressed on me the extent to which we owe our freedom to those men, many of whom gave their lives all those years ago.

On a more upbeat note, Normandy has other characteristics other than the events of 62 years ago. Perhaps most notable is the Bayeux tapestry, which tells the story of the conquest of England by William, Duke of Normandy, in 1066. The tapestry is 70m long and, given that it is nearly 1,000 years old, remarkably preserved (incredibly, Bayeux survived the Second World War completely unscathed, despite being just 10km from the coast, and hence well within range of ships firing shells from sea). Ironically, the Bishop of Bayeux, who was William's half brother, forced English monks to sew the history of their own country's defeat, and they did a remarkable job. The ubiquitous scene in which Harold is shot in the head with an arrow does not remotely do the work justice - there are some fantastic scenes, some almost a metre in length, in incredible detail and still-vivid colour.

Normandy is also a favourite place of mine because, like my home county of Somerset, its principal traditional products are apples (cider, tarts, calvados) and cheese. Calvados must be my favourite drink of all - it seems to retain all the flavour of the apple, with added overtones of strong cheese. As one would expect, the food I had while there was exceedingly good, but then it is France.

The final thing I noticed, which perhaps had escaped me before, is the sheer quality of French women. Somehow, they seem to carry off an effortless beauty and sophistication which seems to be a complete anaethema to Londriennes. Not only that, but they also seem to like me a lot better than English girls. I was smiled at by more women in the street in that one week than I have the whole time I've been in London. Indeed, on entering a patisserie in Avranches, the girl working there gave me such a soulful, intense look that I was quite overcome. This perhaps says more about the inherent misanthropy that seems to predominate in London, but it is certainly food for thought. I'm sure I'd be happy living in France, and in some ways it would be an easier move than to the United States; this trip has, in many ways, only served to deepen my confusion. I just don't know at this stage.

Worried about Cuba

I'm worried about Cuba. The illness of Fidel Castro, combined with the non-appearance of his brother Raul, who is temporarily in charge, has generated much speculation. Whatever the facts, it is clear that Fidel, aged 79, cannot continue too much longer. I hope that Raul Castro and others will be able to continue his legacy, but I equally fear that the opposition may seize the opportunity created by the vacuum of power to bring about "democracy".
Winston Churchill once commented that democracy is the worst form of government ever tried, apart from every other government ever tried. In the main, I agree with him; however, I thing Cuba deserves a special case.
Prior to the Communist revolution, Cuba was a great place to go, as long as you weren't actually Cuban. The mafia had effective control of much of the island, and they tended to use Havana as their playground for lawless and often inhuman "fun". More importantly, the land was owned by large, mainly US-based corporations, who effectively enslaved the native population, giving them the choice of living and working on the land for a pittance (subject, of course to the mafia doing whatever the hell they felt like) or leaving the island. In brief, it was the worst sort of colony we've known.
The revolution, therefore, was neither surprising nor unwarranted. Under Castro, people were not only able to live on their country's land without excessive demands and mafia intrusion, they also had access to free public healthcare and education. Of course, Communism was not perfectly executed; however, what Castro has achieved and which the others did not is overwhelming public support and real social democracy.
So now I'm worried. If Fidel doesn't make it through, will there be an equally wise and sensible leader to take over? Raul may inherit power, but his lack of public appearances so far do not bode well. There is a real danger that "regime change" will take place - most likely in the form of "Miami-Cubans" returning to take over the place and turn it into a big money-making venture rather than an island supporting its population. I pray for Fidel, and that social democracy will continue in Cuba.

The future's bright, the future's... Orange County?

After my recent Longest Post in History world record attempts, you'll be pleased to know I'm keeping this one short (or at least trying to). It's time to put that unpleasant business behind me and look instead to the future. As Andrew points out, I can and will bounce back - I've done it plenty of times before, although I'd rather roll with things than go bouncing around too much.
Right now, the focus must be on my exams which take place in November. There's a lot of studying to be done before then, so the next few months are likely to be fairly uneventful as I get down to work. It's very important that I pass; although I'm technically entitled to a second attempt under my contract, it would actually expire before I get an opportunity which leaves me vulnerable as there's no precedent for such a situation. I'm sure it'll be fine, but I do need to make sure.
As I anticipate little in the way of personal "news", this blog is going to focus on two areas: firstly, I'm going to start writing a few posts about current issues and affairs, particularly the current oil/environment/economic paradigm. Secondly, I'm also going to talk about the future and what it may hold for me.
With that latter point in mind, I've recently given more thought to my direction once I qualify. Florida is still a strong contender, if I can put it like that; regular readers will know the extent of my love for the people and place. However, it appears increasingly likely that almost everyone I know in Orlando will have moved elsewhere by that time, which reduces the appeal of going to all the effort of moving there. Plus, as Andrew points out, if Al Gore (the Inventor of the Environment, as he was described in the Futurama episode in which he appeared) is correct, most of the state may soon be underwater.
The other option, and one which appeals greatly, is to spend a year or two doing a "100% travel" job. Many multinational organisations employ recently qualified accountants from various countries to travel the globe, performing internal audits of their branches and writing reports for consideration by regional or even global boards. Dull as this may sound, this type of work is exactly what I enjoy doing the most, and combined with the prospect of travelling the globe, all expenses paid and with a generous tax-free salary it seems ideal. The main fly in the ointment is the moral issues it presents - multinationals and air travel are among the least ethical things at present. On the other hand, someone would be doing that job if it weren't - a cliche I know, but true nonetheless.
Those two ideas (with, of course, the variation to the first whereby I settle elsewhere in the US) are definitely top of the list. I definitely don't want to spend too much longer in London, I want to advance my career and also spend some time outside Britain. Another EU country is possible - no immigration or work permit problems, easy to get to from England and I have reasonable French and Spanish. That option just doesn't grab me right now. I guess it'll be a case of wait and see when I get there. I can hardly complain about having too many options! Any suggestions?

Now, a long wait

Note: this post follows on directly from the previous post, so if you didn't read it already I recommend you do, in order to follow the story.

At the end of the last post, you will recall that my dreams were dashed over the period from December 1st-24th, 2005. I didn't officially hear about Kim's engagement until after Christmas, but I was sufficiently sure of it that I told my sister that it had happened almost as soon as it did, without having confirmation. I had such a strong sense about what had happened, in a way I had never felt before. If only I could do the same with the winning lottery numbers!
Christmas itself was in some ways terrible - my parents had no idea what had happened; they still don't. They had met Kim on a number of occasions when she had visited, and I'm sure they assumed that she was my girlfriend and that all was well with it. In some ways, the former assertion was true, in that for a time she was de facto. However, I couldn't really go into all the details and so I had to live out the awfulness of it in private. Winter in England is not a good time for me in any case, owing to the shortage of light. I recall drinking quite a lot, and watching a lot of fairly spurious movies, and playing card games with my sister and her boyfriend.
December 27th came around soon enough, and I was off to Florida. I came up to London, meeting Ambrose on the train at Bristol and staying right here, in this room which Ambrose was renting at the time and which I now occupy. We went off to Heathrow, met Naomi and her parents, flew to Chicago (where there was snow on the ground, as in Somerset) and then on to sunny Orlando. I had previously met with Ambrose in Cardiff shortly before Christmas, when he was hunting for a suitable engagement ring and I was looking for a specific diamond necklace, which I found there and gave to Kim as a Christmas present. She loved it, but it didn't change a whole lot. I did mention briefly to Am the substance of what had taken place; however, I chose not to mention anything of it to anyone else at the time, on the basis that we were going to Florida to celebrate Andrew and Amber's wedding (and, it turned out, Ambrose and Naomi's engagement) and so my shame and not wanting to spoil the party prevented me from mentioning it.
That week, as I published here previously, was fantastic. The wedding was incredibly moving, and the party afterwards was fantastic. I got to know Andrew's family a lot better, especially Richard, Mary and of course Katie, all of whom are wonderful people.
I remember distinctly having a conversation with Andrew and Amber, by the kitchen counter in their house, in which Andrew stated "I think you should move to the United States". On my first visit, in December 2004, I had contemplated moving there, having seen an ad in the Sentinel for our sister firm in the South-East, looking to hire staff such as myself. However, it was only on the wedding trip that I really started to feel like I could make Central Florida my home. That time, I hired a car and was therefore pretty much independent of our hosts (with directions when required, of course). I really felt I "got it" - the whole American thing, that is - and so Andrew's remark really struck a chord with me, which is why I remember it to this day. I realised that Florida offered me much more opportunity, as a person, than anywhere in the UK. I probably have more friends in Orlando than in any other city in the world, despite having only spent a few weeks there, total.
Unfortunately, we had to return to the UK, and I had to face reality. While in Florida, Kim had continued to call me whenever she was lonely; like an idiot, I accepted every call and racked up a £100 phone bill. I guess oftentimes I'm just too soft for my own good. When I got back, I had a long wait for my results, which were eventually published on January 31st. I passed, and had just 28 days to work out what I was going to do next.
With Kim engaged to another man, the remaining accountancy firms in my home town being as unattractive as ever, I resolved to move. I applied to the London office of my firm, and after several administrative cock-ups (including being told I had been rejected, only for that to be retracted within 24 hours) I went for an interview. Much as I wanted to move to the US, I knew I had to remain in the UK until March 07 to complete my qualification. I was emotionally weary, and was almost of the attitude that I couldn't care less. The result of the interview was that I was asked to wait for a few minutes, and then called back in and offered a position there and then. And not just any position - it included a promotion and a payrise amounting to £11k (US$20k). Just goes to show what you can achieve when you don't give a monkey's.
One of the managers who had interviewed me showed me out, and generously pointed out that I only had 15 days to move to London. I went straight home, logged onto a flat-share website, and by sheer luck the first place that came up on my search was the flat I eventually moved into. I came to London to look around and meet my flatmates; they were all happy with me, the room was available for exactly the period I needed, and so I moved in. I guess there are few people who can claim to have found a job and a place to live in London in the space of 5 days. Later, of course, I moved into Ambrose's room as he moved out to Winchester to be near Naomi.

And so, here I am in London, with my college course for finals starting next week. Hindsight has given me a good deal of perspective about things in general. I know for certain I won't be looking at girls who aren't single ever again - even if, as in this case, they initiate it. I'll still continue to be friends with girls just as I always have; I'm not ready to start a relationship until I've sorted out my move to the US, when it'll definitely be single girls only.

If you have any thoughts whatever about this posting marathon, please do comment. I won't be offended by what you think - frankly I'm ashamed enough of the way I acted that nothing anyone could say would increase that. I'd really like to know what y'all think.

A long December

It occurred to me, on my recent flight from London to Sanford, that there's a story which is very important to me which I've nevertheless not told anyone properly. With the benefit of hindsight, I feel it's important that I should get it all out here and now, and hopefully draw a line under the whole shameful business.
Regular readers and personal friends already know of my recent relocation and some of its consequences. However, this is merely the tip of the iceberg of last year's events. December was an interesting, and in many ways very long month to say the least.
Thursday, December 1st 2005 was a typical day in Somerset - overcast, cool but not particularly cold and with showers throughout the day. I was working in the office in Yeovil that day, as was my colleague and friend Kim. Kim had joined the firm in the previous January, from another local firm, but the first time we'd properly spent any time together was when we went to London together for a one-day course on July 14th. This was the one-week anniversary of the 7/7 tragedy, and I felt very strongly that we should take the Tube in defiance of the terrorist threat - so, despite her protests, we did. And we got on very well that day. The following week we spent together working at a client, and I actually went back to her flat for dinner at least one evening.
After that, exam study and work kept us apart (we were taking different qualifications, so weren't at college together) for a while. We both came back into the office in November, and our friendship resumed. It was quite obvious to most people that it might be more than just a friendship, and rumors began to circulate although, at the time, they held no truth. The first indication I got was when she wrote to me, telling me simply that she missed me when I wasn't with her. I found out that she first started to think of me as more than just a friend was when I visited here while she was staying away at college; something changed between us that evening, and I received a text when I got home saying that next time I visited I should stay the night.
Let us return to December 1st, 2005. Somehow, English winter weather has a way of starting to rain at exactly lunchtime, and so it was that day. Luckily, I had a large umbrella with me, so Kim and I huddled under it and made for the nearest sandwich shop. We returned to the office, where I was helping her study for her upcoming exams. Like almost every time I tried to help her study, we actually ended up talking about other stuff instead.
2 o'clock came around remarkably quickly, and all of a sudden we were all called downstairs to the main area on the ground floor. A carefully worded statement was read by the office Managing Partner, to the effect that the office would close early in the New Year. Quel horreur! We were then told we could go home. As it happened, I was having my car windshield replaced that day, so Kim drove me round to the glass place to get my car. We were both pretty much in shock, and upset, and she didn't say a word to me as I left; I offered to stay with her but she waved me away.
For the both of us, this was the worst possible time it could have happened. We both had important exams in December, and such an announcement and future uncertainty were hardly conducive to focussed study. Kim was particularly unsure about hers, as she had not had sufficient time to study owing to work commitments. So I took to going over to her place several times a week to help her out, and she would come visit me at my parents' place. We studied together, cooked for each other, complained about stuff, watched TV. And other things as well. The first time she came to my house, she said those three little words to me - and I have no doubt she meant them.
Later, we went to see the Human League together when, during the song Human, she became so overwhelmed with emotion that her whole body became literally too hot to touch, and she almost fainted. I wrote a song for her (at her request); when I later performed it, she broke down uncontrollably. We did all the normal stuff people do, too.
It seemed perfect, except that like in every movie Hugh Grant ever starred in, there was a huge fly in the ointment. In fact, the whole thing was more like a very large fly with a speck of ointment on it, but never mind. You see, throughout this whole débacle (and I was completely aware of this) she had a boyfriend who she had been with for 5 years. Things were not going well at all between them, it must be said, and that had been the case for some while before I arrived on the scene.
In the aftermath of our office announcement, we were both in a similar position. We both had December exams, with results in the New Year, and therefore no ability to take any action on the future until the results were in. We both had time off to study, and I basically devoted every hour of day and night to getting her through her (very tough) exams. Her boyfriend was no use whatsoever, and seemed almost entirely uncaring. I effectively ran myself into the ground to help her learn what she needed, stay confident and sane and, most importantly, keep going. Often I would get less than an hour's sleep a night because I would be on the phone to her, or driving over there (she lived 25 miles away). My own exam was pretty much unimportant - keeping Kim going was all I cared about. This is the part I feel least ashamed of, because I am convinced that without me she would not have got through it. As it was, she got the pass mark in all three papers, and I must have spent several days with her on each one, not including moral support etc.
As soon as our exams were over (just before Christmas) it all went wrong. Cynics would argue that I had outlived my usefulness; perhaps there was an element of that. On Christmas Eve, we went bowling together and then to lunch. I dropped her off in the afternoon at her place, and was suddenly, unaccountably overtaken by a wave of despair and sadness, and I broke down. I knew something terrible was about to happen, but I knew exactly what it was.
As it turned out, later that evening her boyfriend pulled out a ring and proposed to her. I'm told she considered it for some time, but eventually said 'yes'. It's a bit of a mystery to me - they were clearly in some difficulty before, but a large diamond seemed to put paid to all the problems. Maybe I didn't see it all clearly; who knows? I was about to go off to Florida for Andrew and Amber's wedding, which she knew; therefore, she decided that it would be better if she kept this from me until I got back so as to "not ruin my holiday". I guess this was well-meaning, if misguided; eventually, however, my conviction about what had happened was so strong that I just called her up and made her tell me.
I do feel an incredible sense of shame about the whole thing. Admittedly, I didn't instigate it exactly; I was completely in love and did what I felt was best at the time. However, the whole fact that I was essentially attempting to persuade her to leave her long-term boyfriend does worry me a lot. I feel I acted somewhat immorally, although I was "just responding to my feelings". On the one hand, I feel she might not have survived the whole thing without me; on the other, it's never acceptable to try and break up an established couple, and it's certainly not something I would ever actively seek to do ever again.
So it was that I went off to Florida with my heart smashed and no idea where to go next. My job and the love of my life had both been taken from me within the space of a month; I felt as if I no longer had a home which could offer me anything. I still feel that my home town, much as I love it, has betrayed me both professionally and personally. The one certainty, going forward, is that I really do want to move to the United States. It's late now, so I must go to bed - but more on this story later.

Oh no, I can't stand this...

... was the repeated tagline from Peace at Last, a storybook I used to love as a child. I'm not sure why it came to mind - perhaps the fact I, like the character Mr. Bear, haven't gotten too much sleep recently.

The picture above, like the one on the previous post below, was taken from the airplane on my flight back to London this weekend. I'm normally not a fan of flying, or of leaving Florida, but this flight was truly magical. The fact I was sitting with a ghost may have helped, along with the extra legroom. But the main thing was the clear skies and the incredible views resulting. The flight took us all the way up the eastern seaboard of the United States, over Newfoundland and across the Atlantic. The two pictures posted here are of the only cloudy bit - over the Carolinas - which were actually the only ones that came out (the others were just photos of glare on the plane window). The rest of the flight I was able to look down over the East Coast and admire the beauty of the world and the American continent. All my normal nerves of flying were completely forgotten.

Unfortunately, my week of fun and yesterday's dumbass schedule paid back today when I literally couldn't stay awake at work. I woke up with a start as my head started to fall forward on so many occasions I lost count. No amount of coffee, diet pepsi or ice water would prevent me from dozing off, sometimes even while having a conversation with someone! Of course, it's now 12.30pm and I feel wide awake and not at all like sleeping.

Just before I force myself to go to sleep, I should point out the very first thing I did this morning when I got to the office was... book the period from Christmas Eve to January 8th as leave. Y'all know where I'll be.

Feeling Krocsyldiphithic

So here I am, back in London after a week staying with Andrew and family in Orlando. In the words of Destroyer, "All good things must come to an end/The bad ones just go on forever" - which seems all too true at the moment. My body doesn't know what time it is, which doesn't help (rather than be sensible and go to sleep when I got in, I went straight out to 10am Mass and then met Chris and Neil for lunch, beers and coffee, and then did go to sleep around 5pm. It's now 7pm and I'm confused).

It was an awesome week. Nothing earthshattering happened, but then I'm not really an earthshattering event type of guy. We hung out, went pawn-shop-hopping, visited Thurston and Jamie and their three beautiful children, went to the beach - all regular type stuff, but cool nonetheless. This may just be the jetlag talking, but it didn't seem like I was there for just a week. I love the place, the people - I don't think I ever met a Floridian I didn't like - (in short, I just love it) and somehow my visits seem to take on a sort of epic feel. Going back to work is going to take some getting used to.

I'm not going to relive the trip in detail here - that would be boring - but I will give mention to an odd feeling that grew on me during my stay. Whenever we would hang out, no matter where we were, I always had the sense that someone was missing from the room. You know the feeling you get when you're with a bunch of people and someone goes out of the room to use the bathroom or fix a drink; you don't notice them leave, but when you look up, you feel someone is missing even though you can't immediately identify who or where they've gone. Well I had this feeling all week, except I would look around the room and everyone would be there; no-one would actually be missing. I've sometimes had the feeling before, but never over such an extended period. This was capped, in almost synchronicitous fashion, by the fact that the seat next to me on the flight home was empty (I think the check-in agent took a liking to me, as she gave me the best seat on the 'plane). I don't know for sure where this feeling has come from or why I have it, although I have one pretty obvious idea.

I should take this opportunity to express my gratitude to Amber, Andrew, Mary, Richard and everyone else who showed me such great hospitality and kindness during my stay. I really do appreciate it, and y'all are welcome in London any time (until I move to Florida, that is).

For those of you pondering the title of the post, I realise Krocsyldiphithic is not a real word (it's a South Park reference) but I do sorta sympathise with Kyle being asked to spell it. "Can I have a definition please" "Krocsyldiphitic - something which has a Krocsyldiph-like quality". That's kinda how my life is right now, frustrating and impervious to rational thought. I know it'll improve - I just need to get on with moving and settling down. Damn this period of limbo!

Musical meme

I was sent this meme by FirstApostle - bka Andrew - if you haven't yet checked out his blog, then I strongly recommend it.

Well here goes with my seven songs (problems here too with limiting it to seven):

1. Strangled By The Thought (The New Amsterdams/Killed Or Cured)
2. Jesus Came Too Late (The Only Children/Change of Living)
3. The Way Young Lovers Do (Van Morrison/Astral Weeks)
4. Hurt (Johnny Cash/The Man Comes Around)
5. From California (The New Amsterdams/Worse For The Wear)
6. Gone for Good (The Shins/Chutes Too Narrow)
7. Turn Out the Light (The New Amsterdams/Story Like a Scar)

I realise there are three New Ams songs here - I really love those guys at the moment. Formed out of the ashes of the Get Up Kids by lead singer Matt Prior, they've produced a staggering quantity of high quality music in a short space of time. To me, they sit on the sweet spot of clever, American pop/rock with a soul (what a lousy definition) along with the Shins et al.

I'm not going to meme 6 people - I don't know 6 people who read this that haven't already been memed by others - but if you're reading and you wanna do it, please place a comment to let me know.

Sunshine at last

Today we had sunshine in North London, at least briefly. It's gone grey again now, of course, but it was nice while it lasted. Frankie and I walked over to Highgate and had coffee. I washed my car and took some photos (if anyone wants to buy it, please let me know). It was generally a good day.

Something which has been troubling me for some time is how to effect the move to Florida which I have been hoping to make. There isn't long to go now until I qualify, and I still have no better idea how to actually go about the move. There are a number of problems, which centre around work and my career, as follows:

1. Professional qualification. The American Institute of Certified Public Accountants (AICPA) and the Florida Board of Accountancy do not recognise my Institute or my qualification. In order to even apply to study for the Florida CPA exams, I would need to obtain a Bachelor's degree in Accounting from an approved school - and that's before taking the professional course. This would take years and cost many thousands of dollars - neither of which I have.

2. Finding a job. Given the above problem with the qualification, and the fact that different taxation and business regulations apply than in England, finding a job is going to be tough. (This interfaces with point 3 regarding immigration regulations). I have considered taking a secondment with my present firm's partners in Orlando, CBH; however, even if I could arrange this (and it's by no means guaranteed) it would likely be for 6 months, and under the terms of the arrangement I would then have to move back to the UK and work for my current firm in London for at least a year afterwards. And after that time, what's to say I could return to CBH or any other firm in Orlando? It's not in my firm's interests to try and arrange for me to move, since they're so short of staff, and there's nothing in it for them. Incidentally, this would be the same situation if I moved to Deloitte because, although a firm of that name has an office in O-Town, none of the major accounting firms of the world is actually one firm. Deloitte USA and Deloitte UK share a name, an international "advisory board" and some marketing and branding features, but that's about it. So it's not in their interests to help me move either, and I could hardly join them and immediately ask to move in any case.

I suppose the other point is that I don't really want to stay in public practice. My strengths are in report writing and the more "open-ended" assignments which one finds in internal audit and/or consultancy. This is the major upside of not having the right qualification: these sort of jobs don't actually require one anyway (except at the preference of the employer). Systems of internal control are the same the world over, and I have no doubt I could adapt very quickly to U.S. business practice. However, it is by no means clear whether there is any firm that would want to employ me in such a role - they're unlikely to be advertising for a person matching my description, put it that way. The other main problem is --

3. Immigration. From what all I've heard, U.S. work visas are extremely difficult to obtain. Although I'd be willing to wait, jump through the required hoops etc., I'm still not guaranteed to be able to move even if I do find a job.

I really do want to make this move. On both of my visits so far, I've found Floridians to be nothing but friendly and welcoming. I enjoy the company of everyone I know there, especially Andrew, Thurston and family. Compared to London, I think I would like living in Orlando far more; that's not to say I don't like London, but despite having a number of good friends here, it just isn't really me. That's not to mention the weather - I find the set-in greyness that prevails over London to be almost debilitating; it's amazing how much difference sunshine makes to the way I feel.

I guess I'll just have to wait and see what happens once I've qualified. One possibility I've considered is doing Internal Audit for an international bank, which would involve travelling almost constantly for a year or two, followed by settling in a location of my choice once I've been promoted. It's frustrating that there's no clear answer at this stage. I just pray that everything will be sorted out in time.

More, yet more synchronicity

Today was Friday. I finished up at my client just before 6pm, and headed back to the office to hand over my files. As I was leaving, I received a call from my friend Simon with whom I had previously studied for my last set of exams. He called because he'd heard about my move to London, but also to tell me that he had moved firms. A friend of his works for Deloitte, and Simon had mentioned his desire to work for one of the Big 4 "at some point". His friend took this seriously, and within days had arranged an interview which eventually led to his move. This sort of thing is uncommon, as our Institute strongly discourages moves between firms while we are still under our (3 year) training contracts. However, he's now a Deloitte employee, and good luck to him.

Having finished this phone call, I returned home, changed and went back out towards Kentish Town, as planned. As I previously mentioned, I was going to see Stuart DJ, and spend time with Laura as well. As it turned out, I walked in to find Laura sitting with an old Oxford friend who we hadn't seen for years. Once we'd said hello, the first thing he said to me was... "would you like to come and work at Deloitte?" It turns out he qualified last year and is now an Assistant Manager.

I'm not quite sure if such a move is wise. It makes sense in every way other than not appearing to be a complete whore. I really need to take some proper advice on what I should do, given my desire to move to the U.S. as soon after I qualify as possible. Anyone wanting a Chartered Accountant in the City Beautiful please drop me a line...

Coincidence? I doubt it

Since moving to London in March, I've got into the habit of going to a pub called the Abbey in Kentish Town on the first Friday of each month. There and then, Stuart (who is with Laura, my friend from Oxford) plays an excellent DJ set. It's always a pleasure to see them both - Stuart is a fellow Villa fan, Laura is an old friend and both of them are passionate about music in all its forms.

Today was Thursday, June 1st, and I was (as usual) very busy. Just after 5pm, I realised that I was fed up and so I decided that, rather than stay after hours like normal, I'd leave. So about 5.15pm I left the client and walked to down to Chancery Lane tube. I realised that, at this time of day, it would be far more sensible to walk to Holborn and take the Piccadilly line, as it would be much less crowded. For some reason, though, I decided to get on the Central Line and then change at Tottenham Court Road, despite realising that the change would probably be hellish.

I successfully negotiated the squishing power of the Central Line, and the crowds at TCR. While waiting for a Northern Line train, I took out my iPod in the hope of listening to Stuart's CD which he had given me last Christmas. Unfortunately however, the battery was flat. In the absence of music, I found myself wishing it was Friday and that I could go to the Abbey, chill out and forget about work for a couple days. I wandered along the platform, and when the train arrived I stepped on board. The train was crowded, and I found myself face to face with... Stuart.

If this isn't evidence of some sort of synchronicity, I don't know what is. Stepping onto a tube train and being faced with someone you know is fairly unlikely. At TCR, which is almost dead centre of the tube map, on the busiest line at the busiest time of day, it is even more remote. To put it in context, each train has a capacity close to 1,000 people; it has 24 sets of doors, and there is, on average, a train every 1-3 minutes. What was even more incredible about this occurrence is that Stuart was in the TCR area, and needed to go to Goodge Street (the next stop) to meet Laura. Rather than walk or jump on a bus, for some reason he decided to defy obvious common sense and take the tube.

Needless to say I ended up going for a drink with Laura, Stuart, Emma and Jamie (who for some reason reminds me of Ryan Atwood from the O.C.). It was a pleasant interlude in what has otherwise been a pretty depressing week or two. I've had so much work on, which has stressed me out, plus the weather has been terrible. I've always found the winter terribly depressing, to the extent that it's a real effort for me to get through it every year. Going to Florida mid-winter the last couple years has helped me out quite a bit. Normally by this time of year the sun is out at least some of the time; even if its not, the grey is at least quite bright. This May, however, mainly took the form of a set-in darkness and rain, which left me feeling very depressed and longing for some sunshine. I think this is probably the last country I should live in. Hopefully I won't have to much longer.

Hello, it's me again

It's been some time since my last post, I know, and this is due to the complete lack of spare time I've had recently. It's odd - I'm not working much longer hours than I did in my previous job (in fact, the working day is officially 30 minutes shorter) yet I never seem to find myself at a loose end. In fact, I still have a couple of boxes of stuff which I brought in with me and haven't gotten around to unpacking yet!

The picture opposite shows part of Neil's recent birthday celebration, which involved "yomping" across Hampstead Heath between pubs. It's refreshing to find an (albeit small) area of what could pass for countryside in the midst of this great city, which combines well with the benefit of being able to meet up with friends so readily (when I say readily, of course getting across North London is not as easy as it sounds, unless you're willing to drive).

Work is, as always at this time of year, pretty busy. This week I've got quite a nice job - a large, fairly high profile charity in West London - nice in terms of the people and the work, but it does take an hour and a half to get there. Still, one can't have everything I suppose. I've also managed to book myself some leave during the summer, as I have quite a lot stored up. I've got a week in July booked, when I'd really like to visit Orlando again, but at this stage I'm not sure I'll have the money or whether any of my Floridian friends will be around and have time to spend. We shall see.

It seems as if I should have more to report, but I don't really. I'm 25 next week, which is quite depressing, although I suppose the alternative would be a lot worse. I've settled into the house quite nicely now - hopefully they'll fix the TV aerial and oven soon! I'm angry with the liberal press (by which I mean the liberal wing of the press, not the "liberal media" imagined by whining conservatives) for attacking Ruth Kelly for having complicated views about homosexuality. It is possible to be a practising Catholic and be in a government committed to ending discrimination - in fact, the Catholic Church has always opposed active discrimination against homosexuals, which is a separate issue entirely over whether homosexuality is morally right or wrong.

Anyway, enough ranting, I'm tired (as always) and have to get up for a long trip to work in the morning. I hope everyone reading is well, and I'll hope to post a bit more regularly in future!

The fullness of truth

Before I begin, I should point out that I'm not claiming that the title of this post represents the exact nature of the content! I don't claim to know everything or even the nature of such knowledge, as will become clear.

The articles that Andrew and I have posted over the last few days have led me to re-examine my own spiritual journey, and to consider my relative position within the whole of God's Church. I was not brought up in any particular denomination; various members of my family have, at various times, been Anglican, Methodist and Roman Catholic. My grandmother was a Methodist, and as a result I was educated at an independent Methodist school where I participated fully in Chapel life through the choir there. However, in common with most rural areas of England, village life was largely centred on the Anglican church (incidentally, a beautiful Norman Church, pictured) and therefore I was also involved there in both worship and social life. I also had a strong interest in Roman Catholicism; despite the lack of opportunities to experience Catholic worship, I was able to attend Mass on some occasions, more so once I had a Catholic girlfriend in the years before going to Oxford.

In many ways, I still feel that the Anglo-Catholic Church of England has much to offer. I also feel a strong affinity to the liberal Methodists. As much as the Church of England has been described as "the Conservative Party at prayer", so the Methodists in England were closely aligned to the old Liberal Party, who fought throughout the nineteenth century for social justice, and particularly the abolition of slavery. My great grandfather was a Methodist preacher and also a member of the Liberal Party. In the early 20th century, Methodists (through the social democratic Fabian Society) were instrumental in founding the Labour Party, of which I am a member.

Unfortunately, both the Anglican and Methodist communions in England have moved away from liberalism in favour of a somewhat less appealing ontology. Firstly, when I was eleven, our Anglican parish priest retired and was replaced by a young Australian named Ross. He was a well educated man, with whom I got on well and had many lengthy discussions about our Faith. However, he, like many Anglicans, was of a much more Evangelical persuasion than the traditional Church of England. As a priest, he was naturally somewhat retiscent about overtly stating his position for fear of losing people; but it was clear where his sentiments lay. One of the assistants he brought in claimed "There is no Church of England. Everyone here is a Free Evangelical". Worryingly, the church became associated with a number of radical groups who distributed literature claiming that "homosexuality is a cureable disease", and who sent teams of volunteers to set up a "Free Church" in Belgium with the aim of "converting" Catholics to "the true faith". There were some other more sinister events, which I will not write about here in order to preclude further damage to the individuals involved. The invasion of the doctrines of the Christian Right, largely from the United States, was irresistible - virtually all the Anglican churches in Somerset subscribe to this point of view - and this was enough to put me off.

Things were not much better in the Methodist world. Despite running a large network of schools, the Methodist church in England is sadly dying out, with dwindling congregations and, as a result, a large number of buildings being sold off for private development. When I was thirteen, my school appointed a deputy head who was also of the Christian Right. In his first address to the School, he claimed that "AIDS is God's punishment for homosexuals". Oh dear. Whatever happened to the liberal tradition of Methodism?

It was around this time that I realised that, for all its faults, the Roman Catholic church is the best, if imperfect, home for my exploration of the Faith. Whereas my Anglican vicar was assuredly telling me that "all Muslims will go to Hell unless they become Christians", the Catholics were pointing out that in fact we worship the same God. Indeed, to return to the title of this post, while we may not be able to understand how, all religions express some part of the fullness of truth. We, of course, believe in the central truth of Jesus as Lord, and his great sacrifice to save us all, but this does not preclude the possibility that other religions can teach us about other aspects of truth. The Bible is the primary source for our Faith, but it is the perfect word of God viewed through the imperfect lens of humanity; it is not exhaustive, nor is it to be taken literally, word for word, as some of the Right would claim.

So, when I first attended Oxford in 1999, I took the decision to become a confirmed Roman Catholic. Sure, there are some aspects of Roman Catholicism with which I cannot agree, but I think it's important for those of a liberal persuasion to stick around to protest those. You might argue that I could have equally stuck with the Anglican or Methodist churches and fought for my beliefs, and I did try for several years, but I found myself unable to compete with the resources that were being brought in to defend a very Conservative, literalist view of the Bible and of faith in general. Jesus may have told us that the two greatest commandments were to love the one true God and to love your neighbour, but in the eyes of many "Free Evangelists", the (disputable) Old Testament prohibitions of homosexuality and immorality in general were a lot more important, even if it meant not loving your neighbour.

I'm still a committed Roman Catholic, but equally I can feel comfortable in "true" Anglican or Methodist settings. Yes, the RC Church has its fair share of illiberal views, but it is acceptable to disagree with them as many Catholics do, and your own point of view will be respected. Compassion and hope are the core of our beliefs, not an irrational loathing of those who are deemed to transgress. Most importantly, the other great teaching of Jesus that we should not judge others lest we be judged ourselves is taken seriously, whereby while the Church will seek to discourage practises it finds sinful, it will never condemn an individual for engaging in them; the individual's humanity, and our duty of compassion, override any sense of moral superiority.

Well I seem to have rambled on about this for long enough now. I hope this post provides an idea of where I'm coming from - I'm still not sure myself so I wouldn't be surprised if those reading weren't either.

Van the Man

Following on from Andrew's post about John Donne, I have been moved to say a few words about Van Morrison here.

In many ways, Van Morrison has been my guru throughout my life so far. Growing up, my parents listened to virtually nothing else - they own every single one of his albums, on vinyl of course, and these were played at every social occasion and (on tape) on every car journey. There are many reasons to love his work, but here are just a few.

Firstly, the quality of Morrison's music is undeniable. His work is not readily placed into any particular genre, although his main influences are clearly blues, jazz and soul. The music is instantly recognisable in a way that hardly any artists today can claim. Need I say more?

Secondly, and perhaps most importantly, is the spiritual journey that Van Morrison has taken us on. Brought up in the Church of Ireland (post-disestablishment, the remains of the Anglican church in Ireland which retains much of its original Catholic heritage while being obviously Protestant), Morrison has also been keenly interested in Celtic mythology and religion. Much of his lesser-known work, particularly the albums Inarticulate Speech of the Heart and Avalon Sunset, deal with his fascination with ancient Celtic culture and mythology. This is a subject particularly close to my heart, having grown up in the County of Somerset, where the Isle of Avalon is located (much of Somerset, being mainly below sea level, consisted of several small islands until it was feasible to drain the area in the 17th Century). Avalon is believed to be the location of Jesus' visit to England; Joseph of Arimathea is said to have planted his staff in the ground, for it to grow into a tree which remained until it was uprooted during the Civil War. See
Glastonbury for more on that.

The most refreshing thing about Morrison's interest in Celtic mythology, however, is that unlike the majority of quasi-hippies who hang around Glastonbury promoting their fake potions and phoney religious views, he has remained true to the Faith. Indeed, the Celtic aspects of our heritage has only strengthened his beliefs. The 1991 album, Hymns to the Silence, reaffirmed Morrison's Christian ideals with versions of Just a Closer Walk with Thee and Be Thou my Vision (a hymn based on a traditional Celtic tune), as well as original compositions which glorify God in a relaxed, unpretentious manner. There are many Christian bands and artists who, with varying degrees of success, seek to advance their faith through music; Morrison, however, is best described as a musician who is also actively Christian rather than a Christian musician. Many of his fans do not share or even know of his faith, yet it is difficult to see how anyone could hear Whenever God Shines His Light on Me and not be moved (despite featuring Cliff Richard).

In short, Van Morrison as philosopher, poet and musician, represents my own upbringing (across the Catholic/Protestant divide) and ultimately the essence of the Celtic/Christian tradition that forms the basis of the culture of the British Isles. If anyone can be said to be raving on in the footsteps of John Donne, Van Morrison must surely be a candidate.

[As a postscript, Morrison now lives in Bath, the opposite side of Avalon to my family home. Recently, he is reported to have walked into Harpoon Louis's, a bar in my home town of Taunton, carrying a guitar, sat down in the back room and played a two-hour acoustic set, all without announcement or even speaking to anyone. If only I had been there!]

Time to get fit again

One thing I've noticed about London is that it's about as easy to stay fit and healthy as it is to find a parking space. The situation of having fast, convenient public transport from anywhere to everywhere mean that few people consider walking places. This same mass transportation system, combined with the lack of parking spaces, congestion charging and traffic mean that no-one drives anywhere - and consequently everyone drinks far more regularly than in out the country. Lunchtime drinks, after work drinks, let's go somewhere different and go to the pub - it all adds up. Plus, the temptation in this hard working, hard drinking environment to eat convenience foods which are none too healthy. And I haven't even mentioned the pollution.

All of this has led me to gain weight at an alarming rate since arriving in London, and despite trying to keep up a reasonable diet (lots of fruit) I feel under a general malaise. I quit smoking properly a couple weeks back - so far so good, in spite of the temptation when drunk - but this doesn't seem to have much effect.

So my latest plan is to get properly fit. I did become reasonably fit last year when I lost all my weight originally, but this kinda slipped over Christmas and never returned. So I'm aiming to run twice a week (with a view to entering some 10k races in the summer) and possibly swim once or twice a week too. The gym doesn't tempt me though - I hate those places.

So there we go. I don't plan on turning Living the dream into some sort of boring fitness related blog, but I'm sure I'll mention this again if only to update you on my progress. For reference, I've done a couple of 10k runs so far, with pitiful results - not much short of an hour, although it turns out the route was more like 11.5k according to multimap.

In other news, a quick phone call home confirms that Morrisons will clean a tie for 75p - not quite the 50p bargain claimed, but some way short of the £1.80 it was compared to. More on that story later. Also, I went to see Ambrose's band, Action and Action, last night - excellent, as were the band they ultimately supported, the Grabass Charlestons from Gainesville, FL. High Wycombe doesn't know how lucky it is to have such a great music scene.

London update

I've been resisting writing about this owing to my embarrasment, but this morning I'm hungover so everything seems like a massive joke at the moment. Last Friday, I finished the job I was doing at lunchtime, and so the client kindly offered to take me out for lunch. The place I was working was a TV company, and little did I realise exactly what "lunch" in TV-world means. Essentially, we arrived at a nice pub-restaurant at around 12.30pm, and didn't leave until around 3.30pm. In the meantime, the Finance Director, a Scottish gentleman who says "f***" every other word, browbeat me into drinking five or six large glasses of wine (by large, I mean a third of a bottle; by five or six, I mean I don't remember!) I staggered back to the office via the tube, where my manager (who knows the client well) generally pointed and laughed at me, although I managed not to make a complete fool of myself. Yet. I then went out to the pub around the corner (traditional on a Friday evening) - I haven't been here long so I figured I should socialise and try to get to know some people I work with. Good plan, and don't think I made too much of an ar*e of myself other than dropping a full pint of beer on the floor (oops!).

The real embarrassing part (which no-one at work knows about) was getting home. Around 9.30pm I decided I really was too drunk, and would have to go home. So I left the pub and walked to Tottenham Court Road tube, which is just along the road. I got on a north-bound train, which would take me on my normal route to Highgate, from where I take a bus to my neighborhood. The train was pretty empty, so I had no problem finding a seat. Next thing I remember is waking up at around 1.30am to hear the words "This station is Balham". What?!?! Balham is SOUTH of where I had started! It turns out I'd gone all the way to the northern end of the line, then all the way to the southern end and then back northwards to Balham. In a panic, I jumped off the train, only to realise it was actually going where I wanted to go, and it was also the last train.

So I left the station, and went about trying to get a bus. Buses in south London are generally a mystery to me, and as I'd never been to (or even through) Balham before it took some doing. I resolved to go to Trafalgar Square (every bus goes there, doesn't it?) and try and find the right one. After several hours of wandering around, I eventually got on the right bus and arrived back at home at around 4.30am. What a nightmare!

This week I avoided a repeat of this incident by not going drinking at lunchtime! I did however go (at last minute notice) to a rather nice dinner in Covent Garden which involved lots of free drink. I made sure to stand up on the train home to minimise the risk of falling asleep, and arrived home safely after a normal-length journey. I did, however, wake up this morning to find I'd slept on my house keys. Ouch!

Muswell Hill

I moved Sunday, from the green and pleasant land of Somerset to the sprawling metropolis that is London. I'm renting a room in Muswell Hill, just around the corner from Ambrose and Chris. My flat mates, who I found through a houseshare website, are biochemistry researchers at UCL and both seem nice.

The change in lifestyle has been stark, and so far I like it. Whereas previously, I used to drive an hour through infuriating traffic to get to work, now I take a bus and the tube which takes quite a bit less time and is a lot less stressful. The job is busy but actually less stressed than in my last office - although I expect it to get more fraught at times.

So there it is. In just seven days my lifestyle has changed dramatically, and yet I don't really feel as if much is different. Of course I don't see my family every day, but there are new distractions to counter that. Give it one more year, though, and I may well be in Florida. Now there's a thought!

To keep up the theme of publishing my listening habits, I've been enjoying The Only Children this week - Josh Berwanger's project post-Anniversary. Nothing like the Anniversary, despite containing half that band's members - it's basically country rock - but very good nonetheless. You're probably all about to disagree violently so I'll stop there!

Last night out

So I had my last night out in Taunton yesterday. In a way, the best and the worst of the place was pretty much summed up by the experience.

On the one hand, the photo opposite (which wouldn't look out of place on the kitchenstairs weblog) is a hilarious, if disingenuous, parody of Somerset's lack of cosmopolitan credentials - beer labelled as cocktails. Note the artwork behind, imploring the drinker to "be careful who you smile at". Good advice in Taunton at the best of times.

On the other hand, there was Club Aura. Following a good few drinks in Sturms Sports Bar, where Super League was being shown on the big screen, we ventured along the road to the club. As it happened, Seb Fontaine was appearing that night, so we accidentally got the benefit of hearing a world class dance DJ. In Taunton? Surely not, I hear you cry. Stranger things have happened. In fact, it was a really good night all round. The reputation of Taunton (and market towns in general) for being full of cider drinking yobs fighting over the same three ugly women was blown apart by the atmosphere and attitude of the place. Admittedly, a very ugly woman did point and laugh at me, but I tend to get that wherever I go these days.

So yes, I will miss Taunton. My friends and family most of all, but also the fact that it's not such a bad place and there are good times to be had. We did witness one minor altercation outside a kebab shop, but other than that there was no fighting and no cider was consumed! Of course I'm excited about London and the opportunities it will bring, but at the end of the day, home is still home.

Goodbye Somerset

If you didn't already hear, I've resolved my job crisis by taking up an opportunity to move to my firm's London office. Having got my exam result (see previous post) I was free to apply to other places, which I did. I went up for an interview a couple of weeks back, was asked to wait afterwards, and offered the position there and then! It comes with a promotion and a salary rise too, so it's all good!

Our office down here closed today, amid a wash of emotion, alcohol and what seemed like hours of hugging everyone in sight. It's odd - I always expected to leave there at some point, but I never expected everyone else to be leaving too! I'll miss the place, the people and even some of the clients. What we had was awesome for a time - probably the only office of 35 staff anywhere in the world to have 2 clients with turnover in excess of £1billion ($1.7bn) - yes I did say billion. We had a friendly, almost family atmosphere, laid back enough to allow Friday afternoon trips to the pub, but professional enough to ensure that our clients received the service they expect from one of the world's largest accounting firms.

All this means, however, that this is probably the last post I'll write from my home in Somerset [see previous post, Somerset, for more on my moving dilemma]. I'm moving this Sunday and starting Monday, which is all very soon now I come to think about it. In the meantime I feel like a stateless person - my old office is closed, and my new job doesn't start until Monday, yet I don't have leave and I've got work to finish off. Looks like I'll be taking the train to Bristol for the rest of the week, and can't say I look forward to that much.

So London on Sunday, and before that a whole lot of packing and saying goodbye to people to get through. I really don't like goodbyes!!

Relief

Finally, after hours of nervous tension, the news came in that I passed my exam. It was odd - normally, people skip out of work early in order to be at home (or, more importantly, not at work) when the news comes. This time around, I was pressured into being "hardcore" and staying to hear the news with my colleagues.

Normally, the result comes in the form of a SMS text message sent directly to one's phone. It also comes by email, and later by mail. On this occasion, for some reason the text didn't come through until 40 minutes late, so I actually heard the news from people in the next room who had got the (publicly available) pass list up on the internet when it was published! The sense of relief was awesome though.

So now I'm professionally part-qualified (I get a certificate and everything!) and have to write three more exams only to become fully Chartered. Plus I can now concentrate on getting to where I want to go jobwise. So it's all good!

Nerves!

I get my latest exam result Friday, and I'm none too confident.

There's no reason why I shouldn't have passed. Except I spent at least 15 minutes of the (3 hour) exam unable to get Kelly Clarkson out of my head, and therefore writing nothing. Another half hour was spent wondering about my friend who was also sitting an exam in another city. Turns out she was crying during that time, and I wasn't being much more productive. Plus 31% of the paper was a question about exactly my own situation - a large company shutting a division, and how to keep staff motivated. Um, try not telling them right before their exams!

So I'm pretty scared. Worst case scenario, I don't have a job Monday. Hopefully it won't come to that, but it's still holding up my plans as I don't want to push anything until I know whether I've passed. I'll look like quite a fool if I start demanding answers now, only to be begging to keep my job on Monday!

Well I'll keep y'all posted on that one. Currently, on the recommendation of Josh Homme, I'm listening to a whole lot of Johnny Cash, which I actually really like. Plus I got a Human League album today for £3.99 - Morrison's is the place to go - and I have Therapy and Further Seems Forever going on too. So it's all good.

Back to work

The dreaded day came - returning to work. Today was possibly one of the darkest ever - it didn't even get light enough to turn off the car headlights. By the end of it I was so depressed I didn't know what to do with myself, other than write on here, drink a beer and go to sleep.

The day held some good news, though. I'm not sure what took me so long, but I realised last night that there is an ideal path to moving to the US, courtesy of Sen. Sarbanes and Rep. Oxley. Their legislation (cunningly named the Sarbanes-Oxley Act), signed into law in 2002 by President Bush, was brought in to sort out the accounting world after the Enron and Worldcom scandals. As luck would have it, the law is so strict that it applies to overseas companies which are owned by US firms, and to UK firms which operate in the US.

The result of all this is that, incredibly, it is possible that I can specialise in work that involves US companies, US laws and US standards - without leaving Britain! I have asked my firm to consider transferring me to the group that deals with this - so fingers crossed they'll allow it. I think at the very least I'll be able to do that sort of work some of the time, but it would be awesome to be able to specialise completely. Then, when I qualify fully in a year's time, I'll be able to transfer to a US-based partner firm through our international network.

I'm not getting too far ahead of myself, because it could all go horribly wrong, but I think it's a pretty good plan...

Porn free

I've decided recently that, despite the ever-increasing availability of pornography, it is fundamentally wrong. It's a fact that most men, whether they admit it or not, use or have used pornography in the past. But not me any longer.

Now I'm not some sort of religious zealot, although I am a practising Catholic. My view is based on the fact that, in my opinion, pornography demeans and exploits both the women who star in it and the men who use it. It also promotes an unrealistic view of female sexuality.

Yes, I'm aware that the girls who star in it are often paid huge amounts of money for their "services". But what price human dignity? And how many of those women are pressured to do things they don't want to, with money and the threat of violence as incentives?

So there we go. Everyone that I've mentioned this to so far has disagreed with me - and the biggest argument I had so far was on Friday night with my two (female) friends. So please tell me what you think - it would be good to get a proper discussion going on here for once!

Change is good (I think)

Since my last post, which was quite some time ago now, everything has changed.

Firstly, my firm have, in their wisdom, decided to close the Yeovil office where I work. All clients will transfer to the Bristol office and most staff have been offered the possibility of transfer too. It's all come as a terrible shock to most people, mainly because most don't want to move to Bristol or drive every day (almost two hours each way). We had a really warm sense of community in the office; everyone got on and pulled together - it was almost like a family. Naturally that is falling apart now as people pursue different courses of action, and to some extent people go head to head over the available jobs with other firms in the area.

If you read my previous post, you could be forgiven for thinking that my mind must surely now be made up, and that I will be going to Bristol. To an extent you would be right (although there are significant issues which will need discussing). Incidentally, the way is open to transfer to any other office in the country - the firm have offices in all major cities in the UK.

However, in an odd way this has all become somewhat irrelevant now. Following my trip to Florida for Andrew's wedding, I have come to a much more radical conclusion - I am moving to Orlando! I have never been as sure of anything - when I consider the other alternatives it is the only one that actually appeals. Sure, I have nothing against Bristol or London or Manchester or Edinburgh, but I just feel that the United States (and specifically Florida) is the place for me right now. After all, I have no committments in the UK - no girlfriend or kids, and let's face it my success with English girls has been, shall we say, limited. My job has to change anyway, and I don't own property. The only thing I will miss is my close family, who I still live with; however, they probably won't mind coming to visit once in a while!

What has ultimately done it for me, aside from the weather and standard of living, is the people. Almost without exception, everyone I have met on my visits to the US has been friendly, generous, kind and most importantly understanding and talkative. I find that people in the UK are often closed-minded, and although the qualities just mentioned do exist here, on the whole I find people here can't be bothered to try and understand me or listen to what I have to say. Apart from a small number of close friends, most of my interpersonal relations are quite one way, possibly because I do make an effort to listen and understand, but more probably because others don't.

Of course, I realise the following: I only got back yesterday; I went there on vacation and for a wedding; I haven't thought absolutely everything through; I might not be offered a job; the people I met might not be representative etc. etc. I will, of course, have to think about things a lot more, take another trip, and there is a lot to be done in terms of sorting out a secondment and planning the change. My parents don't seem as upset as I thought they would be, but perhaps they think I'll change my mind as time goes on. In fact, every day since Andrew suggested it, I become more certain that it's exactly what I want to do.

More on this story later. Any comments will be most appreciated!