The railway bridge at Norbiton railway station has been in place since its' opening in 1869, taking the railway over the road which cars and pedestrians use to get from Kingston upon Thames to Norbiton station and Kingston Hospital, a walk I, as many others, would make often.
The bridge structure, the girders, the nooks and crannies, were home to many nesting pigeons.
Every morning we ran the gauntlet of the pigeons as they returned to their nests from their early morning feast, their breakfast.
Why is it that a bird cannot seem to poo, poop, pass solids, whilst in flight? They only seem about to do their toilet once landed. I know, I have watched them. They land, turn their back to their nest, lift their tail, and poo.
Now some people may argue that birds do not have brains strong enough to reason, to make conscious decisions, to be calculating.
I think that the pigeons whilst flying home to their nest, spy a human walking, especially me, a human that is going to walk under their perch, their landing spot, then they pick their target and wait.
They wait until the human is in bombing ranch. They calculate, wind speed, wind direction, velocity, the walking speed of their target human, and at the correct moment, it is "bombs away".
The pigeons must do, else why have I like many others, have been pooped upon, white runny poo.
The road and footpath under Norbiton railway bridge was white over with pigeon droppings. The authorities placed netting under the bridge to stop the pigeons getting into the nooks and crannies, but still they were able to get in, as I suspect they had undercover agents in the form of "pigeon lovers", who slashed the netting and left food for them, just so they could poop on other humans.
Wire mesh was installed to stop the pigeons nesting and landing on areas above the footpaths, but not over the road. Was that to appease the "pigeon lovers" I wonder?
But now the old bridge has gone, and the poor pigeons have nowhere to go, no home, no nest, and they sit on a near-by roof of a house, I think wondering what has happened, homeless, waiting to take up residence in the new bridge, ready to poop again.
I just hope that the builders and engineers installing the new bridge have eliminated any nooks and crannies that the pigeons can use, and I can walk under the bridge without having to watch for flying poo.
You know, I think I may have got it wrong, I have been pooped on by a flying seagull. Oh Poo Poo
As an experiment I decided to replace one ceiling light unit of six bulbs with Energy Saving Lamps. Each Energy Saving Lamp being 9 Watts, equivalent to 40 Watts in the incandescent light bulb, that is the same amount of light.
Once fitting new lamps, the change in the light was amazing. Pure white light, daylight, compared to the old filament lights which gave a yellow tinge to the light.
Then I noticed that two of the Energy Saving Lamps appeared much dimmer than the other four. Looking into why, thinking I must have purchased different Wattage lamps, I found that there are two types of Energy Saving Lamps, "Daylight" and "Warmwhite".
Now that is something I did not know existed, two types of lamp. Look at the lables next time.
As I tested the lamps by switching them on and of, why I do that I have no idea, there was a load bang, and the trip switch on the main power supply to the house triggered, and the lights went out.
Investigating I found that one lamp had failed.
Oh Poo Poo. Buy cheap and you get cheap.
In the longterm, is it wise to by cheap, as the product never lasts long?
As I removed the failed lamp it fell apart, revealing the electronics inside.
Wow, it amazed me how many components were there. No wonder the lamps cost so much.
Where is the food I know? Pizza, kebab, fish-n-chips.
Eating food in Malaysia is an adventure, I never know what is going to come next, what I am eating, what will it taste like, will I like it or hate it.
Fish and sea food is a big part of the dietary culture of South East Asia, especially in the coastal regions, and unfortunately, it is not a food high on my "like list", in fact, I avoid fish and marine food as much as possible. My avoidance of fish does not usually present problems, as most fish restaurants will have a meat dish, and grass dishes, sorry vegetables.
I will try anything, and that includes food, but fish, no thank you, unless it comes in batter, traditionally served in the British fish-n-chips meal.
I think my dislike of fish came from when I was a small boy at primary school, when we were told to eat everything on our plate, as just think of all those starving people who had nothing to eat. Being a trusting and loving young boy I did eat everything, including the bones, and now feeling a fish bone in my mouth makes me want to vomit.
I could never understand why my offer of the unwanted food on my plate I did not want to eat was always refused to be sent out to the starving people.
I must be typically British, only liking bland food, but.in some cultures, the stronger the taste and smell of the fish the better people like it. Here in Malaysia and in the flat below mine in Norbiton Hall in the UK, the stronger the smell that can be produced whilst cooking the fish, the better is the presupposition, or belief is, that the better the food will taste. Oh Poo Poo literally.
So, a small party of the family, staying in our home here in Bukit Mertajam, decided that it was time to go to a small fishing village, to eat at one of the fish restaurants.
I emptied my mine of any idea of having to eat fish, crab, lobster, squid, prawn, whatever, at least there would be rice.
The first dish to arrive was a Horseshoe Crab. Certainly something I had never eaten before, in fact something I had never seen before, only in pictures or on the TV, or its' shell being used as a helmet by Manny the Mammoth in the film Ice Age 3.
After 15 minutes watching this sight and crawling slowly forward, we came to a break in the central barrier, and without a word he sped quickly through it and raced back in the opposite direction, the meter still adding up, to join the queue he had originally tried to avoid.
Oh Poo Poo. Keep centered and strong Phillip. (Mustapha, Fred, Antonio). Nothing you can do.
Half an hour later we arrived in Taxim Square, and the meter read 43 Turkish Lira. Oh Poo Poo. I gave him a 50 Lira bank note.
He looked at me and said "OK?"
I was having none of it, I wanted my change and a receipt. And this was not the first time this has happened to me. (click to see previous article).
I had one hour to get to my hotel, and then start my journey to Vodafone , but I had seen some great sights, sights that those who have lived a lifetime in Istanbul have never seen. see video
"Thank you so much for a really fantastic weekend on the Stage Hypnosis course. The training was first-class and I achieved exactly what I had gone for that was missing from previous courses. In addition to actually getting up and doing it for real which has totally given me the knowledge and confidence that I can do this. The whole event – content, location, delegates – were superb. I am raring to go!!!!"
I have been in Turkey since June 15th, four weeks, delivering training every day except one, from 9 in the morning until after 7 at night, perhaps with half an hours break. But, I love my job.
The hours I work do not give me time to relax, after standing in front of people for nearly ten hours each day, the last thing I want is to socialise, go dancing, drinking, all I want is my bed, a little TV to switch my brain off, and a shower.
The type of work I do also takes me to different parts of the world as groups, companies invite me to give trainings to their organisations or to the public, which means I live out of a suitcase, leaving me only a small space to pack a limited amount of clothes.
I often forget to pack sufficient clothes for my trips. This time it was trousers. The heat, the length of time I am here, I needed an extra pair, plus some shorts because of the heat, so I had to buy some.
I also often forget to pack enough toiletries like soap, shampoo, deodorant etc, and this time I did not bring nail clippers. My nails my finger nails are getting too long, but I am not going to buy another nail clipper.
Shirts? I usually pack enough, having a variety to choose from.
I usually give the shirts after I have worn them to the hotel to wash and iron them as I have no facilities. I did this two days ago having a couple of clean shirts left, for the next two days.
But they have lost my shirts.
Oh Poo Poo. What do I do now? I do not want to buy more, I cannot afford more expense, but I may have no choice, I cannot go in the course in an old shirt, the participants would not get anywhere near me, they need to be washed, and I cannot go in bare chested.
Oh the joys of living out of a suitcase.
I took the last flight back from Istanbul, Ataturk Airport to London's Heathrow. The Ataturk airport seemed empty, well it was Saturday night, not a high demand period. I wondered what would happen on this flight.
I went to the departure lounge with some time to spare, so I wrote the blog English Course - My last day with them and nearly missed the flight as for once they did not announce the departure over the public address system.
Boarding the aircraft, which was not full, I walked up the isle, and knew that someone else was sitting in MY seat. It was mine, I had booked it earlier on the internet, 12A wing exit so I had lots of leg room, and the youth sitting there pretending to be asleep. Not for long, a quick tap on his shoulder, and showing him my boarding card seat allocation. He protested that he was in the correct seat, but I stood my ground, no language from me, just pointing at my ticket and the markings above his head.
Loads of thoughts raced through my mind:-
"If he was in the right seat, and we had been double booked as happened before, they may upgrade me to Business Class, but too many empty seats for that, and I want a window seat, and he was in mine, I want my seat."
I stood my ground. Noticing that the seat in front was empty, 11A, narrow and someone in 11B. He was not happy, but neither was I.
I stood my ground, I had paid for the flight, I chose my seat early' and I have a Gold Elite frequent flyer card. I want my rights.
Eventually, he admitted defeat, stood up and moved to his allocated seat, looking around as he went for another seat he could claim. The man behind smiled and said that I was smooth in way of moving him.
As the meal was being served, I pondered what would be available, as the gentleman in the isle seat got a special meal early, perhaps a vegetarian. I decided I would have a white wine, after all the hard work I had been doing over the previous two weeks I deserved something special.
The trolley got to my seat, and the flight attendant looked at me and started to move away as I caught her eye. She said why didn't I want a meal? My reply was that I had not been offered one, yet. There was not one left in the trolley.
Oh Poo Poo.
Frantic signals were exchanged between her and other flight attendants, eventually producing a meal, but I had no choice. What ever it was it tasted of chicken. Nothing different from all the other meals. Click to see other meals.
The mosquito, I hate them.
On this Friday, (tomorrow) I return to Istanbul Turkey, to give a number of courses, Coaching, Mind Maps, NLP Practitioner level, memory skills and what ever to organisers can throw at me.
I have an appointment in the UK on the 27th of the month for my health, and then fly to Bangalore, India on the 29th for a PhotoReading course, with a projected fifty participants. I need a visa to enter India, so off into London I go.
Sitting here on the train watching people on the way to work, reminds me of the days I would catch the train every morning. Not a word is spoken, people are in their own worlds, trying not to look into others eyes, reading the next persons newspaper, as the newspaper owner tries to hide the print, people catching-up on sleep.
There are smells, curries from last night, stale wine and beer, and what smells like tinned tuna meat. I wish there was a Dior perfume.
The sound of the train announcement "the next station is Wimbledon, please mind the gap between the train and the platform edge," takes my mind away from the man next to me with an IPod playing some unknown music, all I hear is the bum bum bum. He seems to like it.
Now I hear that there are now train delays due to a power supply problem. Oh Poo Poo. (click to see.) but we are still speeding down the track. The worried look of the passenger faces tells me some will be late.
Thank goodness I have stopped this daily commute into the heart of London. I now only have to sit waiting for hours in airport departure lounges and cramped aircraft seats, listening to the beautiful languages of the world over loudspeakers I find difficult to tune into.
The grass is always greener on the other side.
We all think that other peoples lot, other peoples lives, are better than our own.
As we pull into Waterloo Station I think. Are other peoples lives better than mine?
An early start to a return home to the UK.
It has been a long journey this trip to Turkey. There has been many frustrations, many long hours often in front of participants from 9am till 7pm, with half an hours lunch break, there have been things that have not gone well, or have caused me problems, but there has been even more good times.
I must concentrate on the good times, if you dwell on the bad, that is how you see your journey through life.
I have had good courses, there could have been more participants, but that is always the case We want more of what we love.
The translators are good. I did not have to concern myself on if the participants understanding me, my complicated language patterns are understood and translated as such. If my translators do not understand, it is my fault, and they can ask for more information, and I get visual, verbal feedback from the participants as we progress through the course together.
More companies want courses from me. That includes re booking by the Turkcell division Global Communications, I must be doing something right. We have had more meetings with prospective companies.
I sing to myself. I FEEL GOOD.
Here in the airport, as I look out of the departure lounge window, the sun is just coming up over the horizon, big and red, in a sky that is changing from a black to a light blue. The cold night air should be replaced soon by a warm day in Istanbul. I trust the tourists have a good day, it is something I do not do, see the sights.
My usual travel pattern is to fly to the country in which the course is being held on the morning or night before, and either leaving straight after the course or the next morning to fly back to the UK. This means I have no problems with jet lag, I just get on with it.
A tip I got from a Virgin Airways captain to overcome jet lag, or perhaps say not to experience it, is to adjust the time on your watch to the tome of the destination country before you board the aircraft, therefore your brain has already adjusted to the new time zone. It works.
Try it you it you might like it.
I am watching the various travelers here. As I approached emigration or passport control, I notice two large parties of travelers, one about thirty Japanese holiday makers, and another thirty Turkish Muslims I would expect going to attend their Hajj.
My luck had changed. I got into the queue waiting to get my passport stamped just before the other travelers got there, but suffered as we edged our way forward to the passport officers booths, the woman behind me was oblivious to the fact she was thrusting her over sized over weight hand luggage into my back and legs.
Why do people insist on carrying this handheld stuff, they struggle to get it into the overhead lockers, they leave it there all the flight, and struggle to get it down on landing. Put it in the hold.
Whist waiting for the fight to be announced I start this entry of the blog, but nature called, and I go for a pee pee. I then find that I had forgotten to zip my trouser flies, no wonder people looked at me strangely.
My mind struggled with the fact that I had walked through a busy airport with those sixty plus travelers with my flies undone. I swore to myself, and not just “Oh Poo Poo”.
We have to stop this internal voice hat makes us suffer, feel bad, insecure. Treat it the same way it is treating us.
I was very rude to it. I cannot write what I said to that internal voice. It was bad.
It soon shut-up. I began to laugh at myself. At least I had woken a few people up at this early hour, given them a laugh.
But why had not someone said something to me?
Sometimes we do not tell people the truth, or we wait until the last moment to give a message.
Give ourselves and others chance to reconcile and sort issues out at an early stage.
Visit I am falling apart article.
One word I say is "SH-T".
I cannot say that word out loud. So I now say "Oh Poo Poo".
My mission is to get the world to say "Oh Poo Poo".
It makes you smile.
The aggression goes out of the situation.
The bad feelings go.
You can deal with the situation.
Here I sit in an apartment in Istanbul, Turkey. I should have been in Ankara today delivering a course, but it was canceled at the last moment. At least I did have a late lay-in, an extra hours sleep.
Having just completed a six days courses here in Istanbul on NLP, which included giving three sessions a day to participants of an English language course, I think I deserve a rest. But, the next course they want me to run starts next Saturday, and now do I fly back to the UK, or stay here?
If I stay I have five days of nothing to do, but then I can catch up on my work.
If I fly back to the UK, I have the cost of the travel, plus I will not get back until Tuesday and then have to fly Friday mid afternoon.only really three days free.
What about the loved ones how will they take my decision?
I think I'll stay. With Skype I can keep in touch.
I can try this blog out.
I can rest. People keep telling me to take it easy after my heart procedure. Now that was a shock to the system.
At 93 years old, yes 93. You see, in certain countries, especially Turkey, people want to know each others age. when I get the participants on my courses to introduce a fellow participant, they will say:-
"this is Fred, he is a doctor, and he is 45 years old"
so I am 93 coming to 94 tomorrow.
Yes at 93, I felt 18, I have done many things, I was fit, I am a Master Scuba diver with over 600 dives to my name all over the world, and it was on a training course in Antalya, Turkey, my translator, Asu, having heard my stories I tell to the participants, asked me to take her diving from the access point there was in the hotel grounds where the training was taking place. Being a responsible diver, I said I would go only after she got her diving qualifications from the school on-site.
She did to my surprise go and get her certification. On her last qualifying dive she ask me to accompany her and her instructor, which I did. I had difficulty in clearing my ears, equalizing the pressure in my ears as I descended, so I kept at a shallow depth, only to find the whole world spinning five minutes into the dive. I had to abort the dive. The instructor, took a look at me and saw a small amount of blood coming from my nose, and rescued me, me a Master Diver. I will never live this down, I will never dive again.
I found that my ears were blocked, I could not hear well, so on return to the UK, I went to my doctor, only to find I had high blood pressure, high colesteral, and yes, I had had pains in my jaw and neck.
That led to many hospital check-ups, the result being that I had a narrowing of an artery in my heart.
Oh Poo Poo. I needed a stent put in my heart, a small cage like device, that they insert in the artery which will be expanded, to allow to blood to freely flow again.
I amazed me that this procedure can be carried-out in a day, you go in to hospital in the morning, and leave in the afternoon.
The procedure is done whilst fully awake, and I watched on the monitors as they placed this stent in my heart or . I felt nothing. I am glad I have learned hypnosis, I needed it.