I am not a wimp, a weak person, but over the last week I have had two experiences which made me feel that way, to feel an idiot.

For the listeners who tune in to my weekly radio broadcast on a Saturday, (visit web to listen), whatever time it is in your country, I must apologise for not being on air on the 27th August 2011, this program and the subsequent recording will be rescheduled.

It is a bright summers day in the UK, warm and relaxing, and it is in this mood that I take a walk and come across a squirrel, like me, enjoying the sunshine.

As a Thinkbuzan Master Trainer for iMindMaps and hand drawn Mind Maps, I will show examples of Mind Maps from differing sources to my participants.

I was never a lover of the pop group Queen, their dress style, their hair, their choreography on stage, well that is apart from some of their music.
Is this the real life? 
Is this just fantasy? 
Caught in a landslide 
No escape from reality 
Open your eyes 
Look up to the skies and see 
I'm just a poor boy (Poor boy) 
I need no sympathy 
Because I'm easy come, easy go 
Little high, little low 
Any way the wind blows 
Doesn't really matter to me, to me 

Mama just killed a man 
Put a gun against his head 
Pulled my trigger, now he's dead 
Mama, life has just begun 
But now I've gone and thrown it all away 
Mama, ooh 
Didn't mean to make you cry 
If I'm not back again this time tomorrow 
Carry on, carry on as if nothing really matters 

Too late, my time has come 
Sends shivers down my spine 
Body's aching all the time 
Goodbye, everybody 
I've got to go 
Gotta leave you all behind and face the truth 
Mama, oooooooh (Anyway the wind blows) 
I don't want to die 
Sometimes wish I'd never been born at all 

[Guitar Solo] 

I see a little silhouetto of a man 
Scaramouch, Scaramouch, will you do the Fandango 
Thunderbolt and lightning, very, very frightening me 
(Galileo) Galileo (Galileo) Galileo, Galileo Figaro 
Magnifico-o-o-o-o 
I'm just a poor boy nobody loves me 
He's just a poor boy from a poor family 
Spare him his life from this monstrosity 

Easy come, easy go, will you let me go? 
Bismillah! No, we will not let you go 
Let him go 
Bismillah! We will not let you go 
Let him go 
Bismillah! We will not let you go 
Let me go (Will not let you go) 
Let me go (Will not let you go) (Never, never, never, never) 
Let me go, o, o, o, o 
No, no, no, no, no, no, no 
(Oh mama mia, mama mia) Mama Mia, let me go 
Beelzebub has the devil put aside for me, for me, for me! 

So you think you can stone me and spit in my eye 
So you think you can love me and leave me to die 
Oh, baby, can't do this to me, baby 
Just gotta get out, just gotta get right outta here 

[Guitar Solo] 
(Oooh yeah, Oooh yeah) 

Nothing really matters 
Anyone can see 
Nothing really matters 
Nothing really matters to me 

Any way the wind blows...

Monday 19th April 2010, I am still trying to get to Istanbul to give an NLP Practitioner course , and the situation did not look good.

Not wanting to disappoint the participants and to honour the commitment I had made to give the course, I had been continually reviewing my options, and modes of transport.

I had contacted EuroLines, a bus transport organisation, transporting passengers throughout Europe by road, but they do not go to Turkey. The nearest they could take me was Sofia in Bulgaria, a three day journey, and the earliest they could get me a seat was in five days time. I would then have to find my way from Sofia, across the Turkish border into Istanbul, perhaps another day in travel.

I could drive my car across Europe, that was not a solution as I have not taken my car on the road for 18 months, it would need a service, oil changed, brakes checked, the paperwork prepared, insurance, but the worse would be the fuel consumption, my car achieves 18 miles to the gallon, (29 kilometers 4.5 liters approx.)

I could take a train or trains. On my return from working in Saudi Arabia, I had visited a friend in Athens, and on the spur of the moment, decided to take the train home from Athens to England and in 1988, with slower trains, it had taken me four or five days, a wonderful experience, but would I want to do it again, London to Istanbul by train.

I decided to go to the offices of Europe Train in central London, as they were not answering the telephones, their web site did not give me any help, in fact at the beginning of this crisis, their web site was being rebuilt and was unavailable.

Arriving at just after 10am in the morning, I joined the queue of hopeful travelers, which stretched from inside the offices, round a corner, down a street, around another corner, and down that street.


The queue outside Eorope Trains in Central London stretches even further into the distance, inwhich I stood for over 6 hours.

I stood in that queue until 4:30pm, and still not reaching the last corner, and we were told that there was a chance we would not be seen as the offices closed at 6pm.

I was cold, the cold wind had reached my bones. I was hunger, I had not eaten since breakfast, I was thirsty, again not having anything since breakfast.

I was asking myself, was this worth the waiting? But I had made a commitment and a promise, people had booked time off work, not gone on holidays to attend the course.

Would Europe Rail be able to get me to Istanbul, after all, the bus company EuroLines only went to Bulgaria?

There was no information, no-one from Europe Train was to be seen. A young man, a fellow traveler made an effort to get information, and slowly went down the queue informing people that the earliest train to Rome would be Wednesday and the same to Spain. But I was going a different route, perhaps I could get an earlier connection from Paris.

Now, I had an idea, just like the ending of the very funny film, The Italian Job, (the original is far better than the recent release), what if I went to Rome and took a flight from there? Then I thought, would I get a flight? What happens if the ash cloud covers Rome, or as I had been told closed Turkish airspace, I would be stuck in Rome.

I had throughout the day been telephoning friends to keep an eye on the fluid situation, the ever changing news of the air travel, I had my travel agents checking as well. Nothing.

Then I had another "Italian Job" idea, check the internet myself on my mobile phone, and the news from the BBC news pages was, that flights were being allowed from Scotland the next day, and with luck London airports opening in the evening.

I had a British Airways ticket on BA0676 on Wednesday.

After spending six and a half hours in the queue, cold, hungry, thirsty, tired, my legs stiff and back aching, with no guarantee that Europe Train could help me, and at what cost, I left the queue to return home, spirits raised.

Now, Tuesday morning, (20th April), I have seen on the news that there has been fresh eruptions from the Eyjafjallajoekull eruption, and an ash cloud is set to cover the UK.

Oh Poo Poo. 

Then I looked at what aircraft have been allowed to fly so far today from Scotland. They are small propeller driven aircraft being flown to the outer island around Scotland, which fly below any ash cloud, not the jet airliners flying to international destinations the majority of travelers and myself hope to take.

So, were we given the correct information by the news media?

We all assume that if someone says the flightpaths are to reopen, that ALL aircraft will be flying. We put out "cat on the mat", in NLP terms we made a presupposition, we presupposed that we understood what was being said by putting our own understanding.

The other piece of information that was given was that an international flight was made. Where to? Iceland.
 

I should be in Istanbul this morning, starting a 7 day Society of NLP Practitioner course, but the Eyjafjallajoekull eruption has grounded all flights out of England and most of northern Europe due to the ash cloud in the upper atmosphere which aircraft cannot fly through.

The question I have heard many times is why does not the aircraft fly below the ash cloud? Aircraft jet engines are designed for high altitude efficiency, and burn less fuel at their cruising height. For example it is said that a trans Atlantic aircraft flying at say 10,000ft or 3,000m, would not have enough fuel to make the journey.

I have a new booking with British Airways to fly to Istanbul on Sunday morning at 0710 hours, but I have just during the early hours of Saturday morning that all flights are suspended until Saturday evening 7pm.

Oh Poo Poo.

I have awoken early, ready on my quest to find an alternate way of getting to Istanbul.

Driving is out of the question, the distance is too far, my car is unlicensed, and anyway, the car ferries are all full crossing the English Channel.

I could catch a Eurostar train to Paris, but they are fully booked now until Monday, then if I got to Paris, trains out of Paris are fully booked.

If I got to Paris, where would I go? I did have the idea of getting to Milan, then pick-up a flight to Istanbul, but where will the ash cloud reach, how far south over Europe will it reach? So, I could arrive in Milan and find flights from there are suspended.

So people in Istanbul, I am pursuing all avenues to get to you, getting out of bed early to try something else.
 
The view from my home this morning did not look good, as I thought the ash cloud had desended onto Kingston upon Thames,



Thankfully, it is only early morning mist.

Jet setting is no fun, continually flying from one country to another as I tend to do, seems a dream to some people, but it is not.

Having to wait for hours in an airport, a departure lounge, the delays that just seem to happen, having to wait for luggage to tumble down onto the carousel, arranging and getting a taxis, or having to catch a bus to and from the airport, to be squashed into uncomfortable aircraft seats next to other passengers who fight for some personal space with elbows everywhere. Then there is the airline food, promoted as gourmet, promoted as being high class, but then it tends to be just fast food in style, and depending on the airline and their cuisine or culture, not to my taste.

Today has been a horror, a nightmare, due the the grounding of all UK flights and much of European flights.

I spent an hour sitting in front of a travel agent I use, just to find alternate ways of getting from London to Istanbul, perhaps they could get me from London to Paris by Eurostar  train, then from Paris to Milan, and I could catch a plane say from Milan to Istanbul, but there were no seats available on the trains from Paris to Milan, and so it was on all trains from Paris, all are fully booked.

My travel agent gave up trying.

I returned home to try myself on the telephone and internet.

I go onto the Eurostar web site , and there are shown seats available, so I go on the Rail Europe web site, to book train journeys onwards from Paris. Rail Europe  web site is down due to maintenance, so I tried their booking telephone line, engaged, engaged, engaged. Eventually I get connected and put on hold for twenty minutes, listening to music and a woman saying they are extremely busy, please hold, or visit their web site. The *?££$% web site does not work Rail Europe. When I speak to a very friendly sales person, she does her utmost to help, but everything is fully booked.

Oh Poo Poo.

Then I am told that even though Eurostar web site shows availability, actually when you do try and book, it says, no seats available.

Oh Poo Poo.

Iceland's Eyjafjallajoekull eruption and the ash cloud has much to answer for. The disruption it has caused worldwide, the cost of lost holidays, work, and visits must be extremely high.

Flitting around the world has become easy, and we now take it for granted, just to jump on an aircraft and in a couple of hours be in a far off country. It is only when incidents like the Eyjafjallajoekull eruption  and the ash cloud over Europe, that one can begin to appreciate how lucky we all are, we take for granted airline travel.

As far as jet setting is concerned, forget it, it is Poo Poo.

I still have to get to Istanbul. How?

The Eyjafjallajoekull eruption in Iceland has caused havoc in the UK and other countries in the area, including Ireland, Belgium, Holland, and the Scandinavian countries, especially to the airline industry.

As a cloud of ash is sent into the atmoshere, at about 20,000 ft and as high as 55,000 ft  (6,000 m - 16,500 m) from Eyjafjallajoekull, the jet stream or winds at that hight are sending the cloud over the above counties air space, making it very dangerous for aircraft.

The fine ash being sent into the atmoshere has been created by Eyjafjallajoekull sending molten lava up through a glacier, the effect of the lava reaching the ice is producing a tremendous amount of steam or clouds, plus the super cooling creates very small particulates of glass.

The effect of these very small particulates if they enter an aircrafts jet engine is devastating. The metal will be eroded, a coating of burned ash within the engine made and the fuel and air intakes will be blocked. The result will be engine failure, as happened when a British Airways 747 flying over Indonesia in 1982 flew through an ash cloud and lost all four engines.

I am due to fly on Turkish Airlines TK1980 from London Heathrow to Istanbul in Turkey tomorrow to give a series of courses, starting Saturday 17th April with a 7 day NLP Practitioner course , and I have been monitoring the situation.

I have just telephoned Turkish Airlines in Turkey to be told tomorrows flight is canceled, and the next available flight could be in four days time, even though I am a frequent flyer and gold card holder of their frequent flyer card.

So Eyjafjallajoekull has even more fallout than ash, their will be no course starting this Saturday, sorry to my participants in Istanbul, we will have to delay the start.

The knock-on effect of fight cancelations affects the whole world, as aircraft cannot takeoff say from the USA to overfly the cloud  affected countries. Aircraft are trapped in those countries as are the passengers.

The ash cloud knows no boundaries, it will not just stay over the UK for example, but will follow the jet stream high in the atmosphere perhaps taking in France and Germany.

Oh Poo Poo, I will have to unpack my suitcase and await further news.  

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 disagree.

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.

 

 
Pigeons waiting for their new nesting home on the new Norbiton railway bridge

You know, I think I may have got it wrong, I have been pooped on by a flying seagull. Oh Poo Poo

We are constantly reminded of how ill prepared we humans are to disasters. We instantly see on our televisions images of not only the consequences of earthquakes, mud slides, flooding, tsunamis and war, but images before disasters occur and as they actually happen and unfold.

We witness the suffering now through the whole process, the unfolding of the disaster, from the comfort of our own homes.

We, the fortunate, sitting in comfort, rise to the occasion, and raise lots of money, gather together essential items to house, water and feed those in need.

Organisations are there to provide support, sending volunteers, firemen, nurses, doctors, military to give ground support.

As a member of Rotary Club, where members volunteer their time, talents, professional skills and energy to improving the lives of people in their local communities and others around the world, having the opportunity to give something back, to give hope to those less fortunate and to make lives worthwhile and fulfilled, we also contribute by being part of the ShelterBox scheme.

ShelterBox supplies an extended family of up to 10 people with a tent and lifesaving equipment to use while they are displaced and homeless all in one box.

It was at a recent raid or visit to another Rotary Club, Surbiton, that we were given a talk following a superb meal about the plight of survivors after disasters.

We as organisations, as individuals, are very good at sending to the areas affected, shelter, food, drinks, but what is often forgotten is that what goes in, has to come out.

In other words we have to pee pee and poo poo, we have to go to the toilet, and that is often forgotten, as i have seen on the reports on my TV screen.

Oh Poo Poo.

How often it was asked, do you think about what happens to your waste after you flush the toilet?

It has to be taken away, often underground in pipes that we do not see, to a sewage plant or machinery that is hidden away, that safely treats the waste in a safe way.

Because our waste is out of sight, it is out of mind, and so it was suggested when we deal with disasters.

But, what happens in the disaster areas?

Their infrastructure is often wiped out, perhaps there is no power or electricity to power the sewage works, but more likely, the survivors move away from their devastated towns and cities, seeking shelter in the wide open where there is no sanitation, no toilets, as seen in Haiti Earthquake or Dafur.

Where do they go to the toilet?

How does the sewage get treated?

Does the sewage enter into the eco system, the water supply?

How long is it before diseases, including cholera, typhoid and dysentery, takes over the population, leading to many deaths.

With this in mind, our two speakers have taken the idea of ShelterBox and are developing a unique sanatory system which can be deployed quickly, and they are saying could serve about 100 people. Packed in a box, the system would be shipped to an area, where it would be unpacked, giving a tent for four people with toilet facilities, and a treatment plant which is small, easy to set-up, and results in an output of treated sewage, free from disease.

Still in the design stage, what a wonderful gift this will be to those who find themselves in need.

For more information, please contact the Surbiton Rotary Club. 

The world is in a big debate as to global warming, are we the human race effecting the warming of our world, the only place we can exist?
 
Yes we have a space station where less than ten people live for just a few weeks. Yes we have been to the Moon many years ago, but sorry, we are stuck on this round thing floating in space for many, many years to come, there is not room on the space station to house the billions of people if our world fails due to global warming tomorrow.

Oh Poo Poo.

So we are told that we have to reduce our carbon emissions, use less coal, use less electricity, use the car less to reduce petrol consumption.

The lifestyle of the human race has changed rapidly over the last hundred years, and one of the changes has been how the human roams or move about in the environment.

Before the existence of motorised transportation, people only traveled within a few miles or kilometers of their home, for the average person, to travel more than say ten miles, (16 kilometers), would take a day with meals stops, rest, etc. Now, with cars, we will go and buy a packet of crisps (chips for my American readers), and be back home in half an hour and think nothing of it.

We used to shop, buy our food at the corner shop which was within walking distance, now we go to the large out of town supermarket, maybe ten miles from where we live, and even if we had a day to walk there, we cannot because the supermarket is on a motorway, an autobahn, which does not permit pedestrians, and the shopping would be too heavy to carry back. We need our own transport.

Our jobs, the factories, the offices are located often far from where we live, in central city centers or business parks, we need transport to get to them.

Our entertainment, restaurants, theaters, cinemas are located long distances from where we live.

In the UK as in many countries in the world, we are being told to use the car less, to use public transport, to walk, and this way we use less polluting fuel, and we get healthier.

Being that I drove less than 400 miles last year in my own car, and have done for some years, I have not taxed, licensed, my car to be on the road, so I am car less, I have no transport of my own I can legally use.

So I walk, I use public transport. It is cheaper than paying out for petrol, having to pay to park the car when I get to my destination, and as I am entitled to free public transport in London, it is very much cheaper than driving.

I have a supermarket immediately opposite to where I live, so my daily needs are easy to acquire. The major town center is 15 minutes walk away, so good for my health, and I work from home. I do not need a car.

Until.

Yes, until I have to travel beyond my normal living existence.

My quest to research and look at the Blackburn Buccaneer jet fighter aircraft, took me to visiting the RAF Hendon Museum. That is easy, a quick train journey into London's Waterloo Railway station, about half an hour, a ten minute transfer to then catch a tube train (metro, underground) to Colindale Underground station about another half an hour, (actually it is on the surface not underground), and a 15 minute walk to the museum. Let us say about one and a half hour journey, a journey by car which would perhaps take half and hour by car door to door.

I was asked to give my services to allow local school pupils to experience what it is like to have job interviews. To get to the school by car would take about ten minutes maximum, but by public transport, I had to take two buses, waiting for over 15 minutes for each one, plus the bus rides took nearly one hour.

Last night I went to a meeting which would take about 20 minutes to drive too, and an exceptional meeting it was, making many new acquaintances, but my journey back took one and a half hours, catching three trains, walking through dark country lanes to a deserted train station, where there was only one train per hour, to change to another train with a 15 minute wait, to change to another train with another 15 minute wait, and then a ten minute walk from my home railway station to home.

Then there was my trip to the wonderful Fleet Air Arm Museum of the British Royal Navy at RNAS Yeovilton. This journey meant that I took a train into London to catch another train back the way I had just come from, for on a two hour journey to Yeovilton Junction railway station. I relaxed and read, watched the changing countryside, having no stresses of driving a car.

On reaching Yeovilton Junction railway station I asked how I could reach the Fleet Air Arm Museum, and was told there was just one bus a day, but that left the station at 10:30 am, goes to the museum site, I expect through the villages, and leaves the museum to return to the station at 1:30 pm.

Um. That is useful as it was mid day when I arrived, and I did want to see more than the front door of the museum before I took the bus back again.

The only other options were walking, well it was ten miles away I was told, so I could do it if I walked fast only to see the "Closed for the Day" sign being put up, or I could take a taxi.

I took a taxi. Nice and quick, but £22 each way.

I am trying to do my little bit for the environment, replacing my light bulbs with low energy bulbs, (see Energy Saving Lights, becoming environmentaly friendly ), switching off electrical equipment when not in use, not having the heating on as much as required or set at a lower temperature, using public transport, but I am paying the price of convenience, of my time, of being at the mercy of a train driver, a bus driver or a taxi driver.

Have they turn-up for work that day?

Is there going to be the train, bus or taxi?

Have they taken an extra five minute break meaning that I miss my next connection?
 
Are there going to be engineering works, closing the rail network?

What are the timetable changes for evening and night time travel, they could be every hour instead of every 15 minutes because there is little demand in the evenings?

We have to start somewhere to stop global climate change. The infrastructure has to be set-up, the extra modes of public transport put in place so that people have a way of moving about no matter what time of the day or year it is, and the organisers of events also have to do think about people doing their little bit to save the planet by using public transport.

I will keep my state, for my NLP'ers, Mustafa, Fred or Antonio, to tell that little voice in my head to shut up and stop complaining, and to relax and enjoy downtime sometimes sitting on a slow bus or train, and stop being a grumpy old man.

I am continually getting telephone calls from people wanting to sell me a new mobile phone, sort out my debt problems which I do not have, and buy my timeshare holiday week, even though I have used a service in the UK called The National Do-Not-Call List,  or the Call Prevention Registry, which should prevent such calls or organisations making unwanted "cold" telephone calls to me.



As soon as I hear a foreign accent, sorry to say from the Indian sub continent, and they ask for "Mrs Mee Holt", the hairs on my neck go up, I know that they will be trying to sell me something I do not want. She never uses the shortened name "Mee" from her name Mee Len.

"No you can't. She does not live here any more.", will only make them say, "Is that Mr Holt?"

Just thinking about it makes me mad, but then I expect they can get around UK laws by calling from outside the UK.

I apologise to those working in the call centers making these calls, I know I am rude to you and I cut you off. Sorry, I know you have a job to do and want to make money, earn a living, but I do not want to speak to you.

I also sometimes get telephone calls from people who want to buy the timeshare week. I wrote about one company Alpha Group Resales who sounded very convincing in their sales patter or talk. (see article).

They give a reference of the Timeshare Advisory Service and a telephone number. I wonder if when the number is called, it ends up in the same office as Alpha Group Resales or whatever name they are operating under now.

I still notice after a number of years, people are landing on my web site article after searching on Timeshare Advisory Service in a search engine, so the scam still seems to being used.

To operate this scam, taking a large sum of money at the outset by credit card, to register the sellers name and cover administration costs, the seller enters into a contract which contains a clause saying that if the seller ends or cancels the contract, the initial sum will be forfeited. Obviously, there are no buyers for the timeshare, and thus the buyer cancels the contract or arrangement with the company operating the scam, and looses their initial deposit.

I cannot understand how these people can sleep at night, knowing that the next day they are going to sell something to people that they do not want it, advertising space, search engine placement, listings in telephone books and directories, a name of a potential buyer who does not exist.

The credit card companies know that these scams exist, they must get hundreds of calls of complaints, yet they continue to let these companies trade and take money off unsuspecting people.

The banks must know about the scam emails, which promise untold wealth from a person who died in a plane crash, or from a military person who found a box of millions of dollars in the middle of the desert whilst fighting in Iraq and wants to share it.  Why don't they stop the unsuspecting public transferring money abroad to these people?

Worldwide government agencies know about these scams, why don't they do something to stop it?

Oh Poo Poo, am I sounding like a grumpy old man?

Life is so hard and unfair.

Now read I don't believe it
 

Feeling sorry for myself, having fulfilled my commitments for the day by 12 noon, I was at a loss for something to do with myself.

I know I am about to get a head cold, there is a strange sore feeling at the back of my nose, when that happens I know I will get a running nose, ending with my nasal tracts being stuffed up and blocked.

As I was a long walk from home, perhaps an hours walk which is good for me as it is exercise, my mind suddenly came up with an Idea. In the distance a fast train raced down the rail track to some far off destination, and I thought, why can't I be on that train?

My mind raced through distant places, as my eyes caught a plane reaching for the sky having just taken off from Heathrow, Penang in Malaysia, Machu Picchu in Peru, Rome in Italy, Erzincan in Turkey, all places far far away, too far.

How about Brighton on the South Coast of England, Bognor Regis another seaside town on the South Coast? I love the seaside.

Then I had a Eureka moment, Exeter in Devon.

Exeter is a town I had never been to, but heard about. My school friend from many years ago, Ronald Rose, used to go on holiday there, and back at school would not stop talking about it. My mind was made up, Exeter here I come.

My local train service, South West Trains, had a train that went there. I would see the City of Exeter I had wondered about for all these years, and as a sea port, be able to see the sea.

By 12:20 midday, with a sandwich, with fillings I had never heard of, and orange drink in hand I joined the train, and soon we were racing through the countryside, visiting railway stations, picking-up and dropping-off passengers, my mind fantasizing what I might see at the other end of the line, nearly four hours away.

At Salisbury, the nine carriage train parted, the first six carriages of to Exeter, the last three off to Bristol. Although I knew I was sitting in the correct part of the dividing train, a slight panic raced through my mind, "was I on the correct train?".

The speed of the train now reduced as we stopped at more frequent stations, some with platforms too small, so only the first three carriages of the six was actually in the station.

At one station we were held for five minutes. Why?

The rails was single track, with only limited places where trains could pass, so there could be only one train at a time on the track, one up train and one down train.

This did not bode well, small stations, single rail track, we must be leaving the hustle and bustle of suburbia, of London.

Eventually arriving in Exeter Central Station, one stop before the end of the line, I searched the city center map on the wall.

"Where's the sea?"

No where to be seen, so I headed to the city center, from there I must find the sea.

With seagulls squawking overhead, that must be a good sign surely, I headed down a steep hill, leading to a valley which I reasoned must contain a river which will lead me to the sea, and sure enough, there was the river, but no sign of the sea.

Nearby, was an old ruin, was it an old church, or a castle, or just an old warehouse? Some one was working on the stones, obviously an archaeologist, but I could see no information to help me.

There were direction signs which pointed to the City Center from where I had just come, and another to the Quay, a six minute walk.
 
Now that is the direction for me to go.

I walked by the side of the River Exe, slow flowing and not very wide, sitting in a valley.

I followed the flow of the river to the Quay, which was now a collection of cafés and handicraft workshops and only four or five at that.

There were no ships in the port, and as I read the information plaque outside the public toilets, I found out that it had begun to close in about 1840 due to that single track rail track built by Brunel I had just traveled on, which could take the wool exports away quicker. The port continued into the 20th Century, but declined rapidly, eventually closing to only the pleasure boats, and not many of those either.

The old warehouses, as in many old ports of the UK, have been converted to offices, apartments and restaurants.

Still no sea.

           
Exeter Quay
Another information plaque in the small harbour showed a map, and I was about eight miles or twelve kilometers from the sea, connected not solely by the River Exe, but a canal built two hundred years ago, to bring the trade ships to the quay.

By this time, it was too late to visit the sea, even if there was a pathway for me to follow.

I returned to the city center, noticing how small Exeter was as it rose up from the River Exe's valley.

I visited the Cathedral, St. Peters, an imposing building, but it was getting late, I was getting cold, my nose now running even more, and I contemplated the four hour train journey home.


St. Peter's Exeter Cathedral
Thankfully, I passed a book shop selling books at a cut price. That is my answer, a good book to read on the way home.

With another sandwich, with again only understanding the ingredients cheese, the rest I had no idea of, plus an orange drink, I boarded the London bound train.

Totally absorbed in my book, the journey fled past.

I had built up in my mind a day out to remember. I had in my mind something out of this world, total satisfaction, wonderment, a fantasy of Exeter started in my school days by Ronald Rose.

I was disappointed, it was not what I expected.

Life is so cruel to me. Oh Poo Poo.

But hang on, yes life is like that. We build something up to something beyond what will happen, what is there and available and we go for it, only to find that our expectations may not be fulfilled.

Yes, sometimes our experiences far outreach our expectations.

I actually had a great time.

I had forgotten about my running nose, my head cold. I had learned some more things about Exeter. I had relaxed for once. I had read a book and learned something from that.

I had made the journey I had watched others had done and made the sames journey myself and can now relate it to you reading it here.

Life is a journey, sometimes it is not what we want, sometimes it is more that we expect, but we should take the journey and be happy what we experience, for to be sure the track we take could be a fast or a single slow track, but it has a start and an end.

Enjoy.

I have a day off today in Rome, the airmen I am training have their senior officer visiting their base, so I am catching-up on my work and emails.

I had just finished replying to an email, and just about to hit "send", when I receive a text message from the person.

I then sent an email message to a person who had been negotiating with me to provide courses for them, but I had not heard from for two months,saying, if they did not wish to proceed, please let me know as I have other people wishing to work with me, and within five minutes, my telephone rang, and one of these people was asking me to go to their country to give my courses.

Oh Poo Poo, I really must have the power I talk so much about, telepathy, the power to transmit my thoughts.

Let me continue on from Light in our life, Energy Saving Lamps, LED's and incandescent light bulbs.

The filament type or incandescent light bulbs in the house in Bukit Mertajam, Malaysia, keep on blowing or failing. This is perhaps as they are cheap and low quality, and we have many bulbs in each light fitting. It is a constant battle to replace bulbs. 

Each bulb is 40 Watts, so in the photograph below, there are 13 bulbs, equaling 520 Watts of power consumption. Lowering that by 80% by fitting Energy Saving Lamps would be quite a saving in energy consumption and money spent on electricity. OK, there is the initial outlay to purchase the Energy Saving Lamps.


In one room, three light fittings in BM house,
two ceiling each with 6 bulbs
one wall light with one bulb.
520 watts. 

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.

    
The internal components of an Energy Saving Lamp
That made me think.

How much energy has there been expended to manufacture the circuit board, each individual component?

How much manpower with its' associated power consumption was used to put the circuit board together?

I realised how little I knew about the workings of a Energy Saving Lamp.

And that got me thinking about other things to follow.

Um? I wonder if we go through life like that, only looking at the finished product, the outer skin, not knowing how it works, what makes it do what it does?

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. 

The shell of the Horseshoe crab, also being held by the sword like tail
This strange creature is not a crab at all, but is closely related to spiders, ticks, and scorpions. It is said to be a "living fossil", as evidence exists in fossil remains dating back to the Triassic period some 230 million years ago, and similar fossils from the Devoian period some 400 million years ago. 

The Horseshoe Crab, or as it is also known in Malaysia and surrounding region as the King Crab, has three main parts to its body, the head, the helmet shaped part, the abdominal part and the tail or as it is known the telson, each hard shell like structures.

The crustacean was served up-side-down, and I had no idea what to eat, or how to eat it.


The Horseshoe Crab ready to eat
All I saw was the hard sword like tail pointing towards me, the helmet part filled with vegetables and roe, eggs. The roe or eggs were brown leather coloured, and upon eating them, they were like leather in texture and having no strong taste. But, there was no meat, only eggs. I was told that the only the female Horseshoe Crab is used, and then only the eggs.

Later upon leaving the restaurant, you have to walk past the tanks, buckets and boxes of sea life, waiting to be put to the pot, and then I spied a bucket of Horseshoe Crabs, the top one being upside down. It was then I understood why there is no meat. The body is very small.


A bucket of Horseshoe Crabs ready for the pot
In the next photograph, the underside of the Horseshoe crab can be seen.


The appendages of the Horseshoe Crab

In the lower half of the picture are six appendages, the first pair, the chelicera are the genital pores, whilst the remaining five pairs are the inedible lungs or book gills, which allows the Horseshoe Crab to breath out of water, as long as the lungs are kept wet. As the female lays her eggs on the beaches in sand, and I believe mating occurs at this time, breathing out of water is desirable.

In the upper half of the picture can be seen the "legs" or another six pairs of appendages, each having a distinct purpose and shape. the first are used to pass food into its' mouth. The second pair are used for walking, with the remaining four pairs used as pushers for movement.

So now I can add the Horseshoe Crab to the list of many strange things I have eaten, I have tried this food, and it was not that bad.

Today I have had so many things go wrong, but the worse one has been my trusted Chinese dual phone, iPhone mobile phone giving up the ghost, becoming dead, stopping working, and I have had to dig out my old HTC Diamond, a mobile phone I am not that impressed with.

I am most unhappy, but what can I do? I have had the Chinese phone for about six months, and did not pay that much for it, it is a gadget and I enjoyed it whilst it lasted, it has broken, so I must get on with life.

If I went about from this moment on with a cloud over my head, to be in a depressed state, feeling sorry for myself, I would force myself into a deeper state of "nobody loves me", "my phone does not work, what am I to do?"

It is just a phone, like other people, I can go back and be with my old companion, all I have to do is switch it on, put the sim card in, and away I go again.

It may seem strange at the start, getting used to the old ways, but if I put that strangeness to one side, and put a smile on my face, life will continue, and I will be happy, and after all, are you really interested in my problems? I doubt it.

Too often we try and draw other people into our unhappiness, our feeling of strangeness, our being unfamiliar with what we are, where we are or what we are doing, and try and bring others down into our state. I see this happen sometimes in my and other trainers courses. Perhaps one or two participants may not like the style of the training, may not understand what the trainer is giving them, and tries to influence the other participants, bring them down into their world of unhappiness. This is a situation I love, as then I can use my skills to correct the position.

Today I have had to do it on myself, change my state, use my Oh Poo Poo. I have too much to do to let a broken phone draw me down into the depths of unhappiness.

It is good to be adaptable, especially when training, and that is what I am happy in doing, to arise to the occasion when circumstances require change.

As part of the training team, or guest trainer with NLPItaly, I am asked to give weekend training and asked to cover certain elements of NLP for the participants, so mostly I know what I am doing. This was so this weekend, I had prepared my work with handouts on my one and only day back in the UK.

I met on my walk to the Hilton Hotel a fellow trainer who informed me of the plans for the week end. It had changed, everyone else knew except me.

Oh Poo Poo.

Still that is the fun of training, here's to a great weekend for everyone where ever you may be.

I have achieved many great things, helped many people over problems, including to stop smoking, overcoming fears and phobias, gaining confidence, stopping over use of drugs and alcohol and loosing weight.

The one great thing about NLP is the it is quick, with me one session, and it is long lasting, forever should the client want it to be.

For the first time in all the years I have been training around the world, I became ill in a course. Well, I did not become ill in the course, but it hit its' height, its' worse in the course.

I am very careful what I eat usually, because I know about travellers diarrhea.

The fact is, that different parts of the world, different parts of countries and towns, have different germs, different bacterial, and these reside in water and on food. Our stomachs build up resistance to bacterias, or the ability to kill these bacterias, and if our own bacteria come across one that they have never come across before, Oh Poo Poo, we get sick, we get food poisoning, diarrhea and vomiting as the body strives to rid itself of the harmful bacterias.

Cooking usually kills off unwanted bacteria, but we do not cook grass or salads, and I had some salad. Also I eat some yogurt, which I suspect could have been old.

Oh boy was I ill. Even the participants realised I was bad, and they gave me a break. But, the show had to go on, and with my attention on Fred, Antonio, Mustapha, - you will have to do my courses to understand these names, we got through the day, and i lost weight.

Now I am off to Milano, so no doubt with all the ice cream I will put back on all the weight I lost.
  

Thank you "Anonymous" who ever you are and where ever you may be, for sending me an SMS text message late last night, to remind me that I must turn my clocks and watches back one hour.

For those of you reading this blog, certain countries have this strange system of twice a year, turning forwards or backwards, altering the clocks by one hour.

I believe it came from the 2nd world War years, when it was found that by altering the time, by putting the clocks back one hour, an extra hours daylight was gained.

So, I had an extra hours sleep. But if I had not been informed, I would have arrived at the venue an hour early, and wondering why there were no participants for me to train.

As I received the text message, I was just about to sleep, and panicked. Were they right? Was "Anonymous" having a joke with me, meaning I would arrive one hour late to the NLP Practitioner here in Gaziantep?

I contacted my host to Mehpare to ask her, but she did not know either.
 
Oh Poo Poo.

A quick check on the internet showed that "Anonymous" was right.

But what about the participants on the course. Do they know, or are the confused, sitting in the training room thinking I am not turning up?

Thank you "Anonymous" for giving me an extra hour in bed. Can you do that every day please?

It was a typical British bank Holiday , a promise of great weather, which turned out to be quiet different.

Vanessa, my daughter, has moved down to the southern coastal city of Southampton in England, a place she has found to be full of interesting things to do, full of history, a place of surrounding beautiful countryside, near enough to many facilities and for her, work.

Knowing the traffic problems as people drive to the seaside and places of interest on Bank Holidays, I decided to let the train take the strain, and although an early start, the journey, with only one change at Clapham Junction, would only take two hours, much the same as driving, but at least I would be able to read the Sunday newspapers, and the fare would cost less than the petrol my car would use.

As the train pulled in at Clapham Junction, I spied an empty carriage, and I quickly found myself a window seat, and sat back to read the newspaper, only to be joined by a group of about 15 foreign people, I would presume to be Mexican as they were speaking Spanish but looked South American, and it was party-time for them.

They were shouting jokes from one end of the carriage to the other. most frustrating as I could not understand what they were saying. they were playing music, the songs again being in Spanish, and passing food around. I could feel myself becoming angry for disturbing my peace, invading my space, and had to change my state to remove them from my world.

I had been advised by my cousin, Glynis who lives in the area, to wear my shorts, as it would be good weather, but I decided to wear my slacks and take a jacket, and I was glad I did.

On arriving at the Southampton Airport railway station where Vanessa would pick me up in her little yellow car, it was drizzling. Where was the sunny weather Glynis?

What were we going to do?

I remember way back when Vanessa was a young girl, and I was allowed to see her on one of my trips back from working in Saudi Arabia, and i did what most divorced dad's do when they have to entertain their children on the very rare access visits, I took her to London Zoo.

Oh how the tables have turned.

When I said, "what shall we do?" Vanessa replied, "We could go to the zoo."

I suddenly had the image of me being the senile old man, that now the children have to take care of.

Oh Poo Poo.

But no, it was time to catch up, to talk over lunch at Nando's, to pass-on family history over cups of coffee, to visit a small museum of the port of Southampton which included a display of the history of the RMS Titanic which left Southampton on its' ill fated voyage to America.






 It was a time to give what I would call useless information, which I am full of, to Vanessa, like that the bronze statue of the Titanic's captain, Captain Edward John Smith, which is in Beacon Park, a public park in Lichfield, Staffordshire. The story goes that Captain Smith's home town of Hanley, Stoke-on-Trent, had the statue made, but refused to have it when he managed to sink the Titanic, and Lichfield was the only city to take it.





It was after the museum, we walked the short distance to the old docks where the Titanic would have sailed from, and it was alive with ships and ferries still using the facilities.

We watched as four massive cruise ships left for I hope warmer climates, because I was frozen, and this was an August holiday.

Typical British weather. 


Cunard Queen Victoria leaving Southampton


P&O Cruise Ship Aurora leaving Southampton


P&O Cruise Ship Ventura leaving Southampton

It must be the heat here in Bologna, Italy, driving me to say the wrong things.

I can now understand why people in Bologna leave for the whole of August for a holiday to the seaside, the mountains and other cooler places, as the temperature last night in the bedroom never went below 32 degrees. I was perspiring all night, drinking over 1 litre of water, and not going to the toilet.

The days are even hotter.

It is a time that I have to say what is on my mind, to communicate with others, new ideas, new concepts so learning can take place.

But perhaps I said too much, as I have had my head bitten off, for expressing my opinion.


Need to reactivate the alarm system in my brain which rings a big bell, flashes a big bright red light just before I open my mouth to say something. A warning should be going off in my head :-

     "shut up"
Perhaps it is the heat, or the fact that I can talk to someone, after all my life style means I am on my own most of the time in my own world, making my own choices which are appropriate for me and only me, and when I am with other people I forget that they have choices too, that may not be the same as mine.

Oh Poo Poo. Life is such a load of Poo Poo.

Still another day starts, and a new hand of cards have been dealt to me. I hope this hand will be a winning hand, and I think it will be, as I believe I can make the right choices from now on.

These days I seem to be traveling most of the time, but today traveling from London to Rimini in Italy gave me a form of transport I have never traveled before.

Rather than take a taxi from my home to Gatwick Airport, I took a train, or two trains, and knowing how public transport is usually good, but on the odd occasion there is a delay or breakdown, I find it better to take an earlier train or bus than I would normally take just in case.

This meant that I had extra time to watch the world go by in the departures lounge. I would have preferred an extra hours sleep.

As there is no direct flight to Rimini from London, I took a flight to Bologna, (Italy), a beautiful city I have visited before and having some great statues and history. See previous entries.

From Bologna, I had to take a train to Rimini and as I waited on the platform it started raining. So much so for sunny weather.

I had to buy a ticket for this train when I arrived at the station, but was told it was full. But then I was told, I could travel first class, Standing.

How can you have first class standing?

OK, I could get to stand in the first class carriage, with those extra wide and comfortable seats. But I would be standing in my shoes. Are they first class? My socks are quite old now and wearing thin, so not all that comfortable unlike the armchair seats.

Still I was superior to the "ordinary passengers, the other side of the dividing glass door.

Arriving in Rimini with sore feet, it was still raining, and I had to wait for a taxi in the drip, drip, dripping of rain, along with four other people. After a long wait, a taxi arrived and the first person got in that and disappeared, leaving another two in front of me. Shortly later another taxi drove up and the next person got in, and beckoned by the taxi driver so did the second person, the he asked me to get in.

The last time this happened to me was in Cairo, when I got a taxi from the airport to my hotel. Along the way, the driver picked up other passengers, and dropped them off, making a fortune at my expense. He was not happy when I refused to give a tip.

My Rimini driver still charged each of us the standard charge for each of our individual journeys,even though we traveled together.

Once in my compact room, I looked out of my window with a balcony, to see a big thunderstorm forming.

Oh well, perhaps it will not be my chance to see all those bikinis on the beach just across the road.

Oh Poo Poo.

One year ago I had to buy some more glasses, (see previous entries), and as I had used a local branch of SpecSavers where I live in Kingston upon Thames, in the UK, for some years, I returned to them.

The offer of two pairs of glasses for the price on one, (really?), suits me, as I can carry both pairs around the world, if I break, damage or lose a pair, I have another ready to take its' place. Another great asset is that one pair has green frames and the other has blue frames, so I could be colour co-ordinated.

I do not wear the all the time as they are for reading, but being bi-focal, I can keep them on, but as I do a lot of reading, I really do need them.

Three weeks ago, one of the arms off pair of glasses one, dropped off, no problem, I had another pair. I must be my fault, perhaps I sat on them, perhaps I could have abused them. I could not remember doing so, but then am I aware of every thing I do?

I wore my second pair, and live continued as normal, a trip to Italy, to Turkey and then on to Bahrain to give courses.

Whilst in the training room in Bahrain, I took my second pair of glasses off to give the presentation, and put them in my shirt pocket. When the time came for the participants to do the exercise I wanted them to do to reinforce their learning, I reached inside my pocket to get my glasses, put them on, to realise that the arm off these glasses had become detached.

Now this time, I know I was not abusive to my glasses, I had treated them with the love and affection they deserved, after all, they were now my only pair. Yes the frames were thin, light etc, but then we have to use them, wear them, that is what they are for.

Like many modern consumer goods, cars, TV's, computer, they have a life expectancy, and it must be the same with these glasses, as both were the same style of frame.

Now I was in a mess, no glasses, four days of training left for me to give, e-mails to answer, and the latest book I was reading, The Complete Works of Sherlock Homes to finish.

Oh Poo Poo.

There was no way to get them repaired, I tried and the shopkeeper did not want to know, or did not have the correct equipment.

I purchased a pair of off-the-shelf reading glasses. Not bad, not the correct strength, but I could read.

On returning to the UK, I went straight to SpecSavers, and of cause they presupposed that I had damaged them, and it was suggested that it was the way I took them off, until I pointed out that on one pair the right arm had come off, and on the other it was the left.


SpecSavers broken glasses

Now I went into the shop with an attitude of non confrontational, to be friendly, to seek help, and that is what I got in return.

Without any to do, my records were called up, and immediately I was offered new frames, placing my existing lenses into new frames. Unfortunately they had no frames in stock.

Oh Poo Poo.

But, they would get some more, and as soon as they did, they would call me.

Today, one week later, they did telephone, but only one new frame had arrive.

Still now I can see properly to read and type, even if I have to readjust my eyes back to my old pair after using the off-the-shelf ones for two weeks.

Well done SpecSavers. I will await the blue frames, so I can go out in the streets colour matching with my eyes.

Unfortunately I did not check the time the NLP Master Practitioner course finished in Milan yesterday, and booked my flights as if we were to end at 6pm, but we finished at 1pm. Oh Poo Poo. I had a 8pm flight.

No problem, I can have some lunch at the New York bar and restaurant and get to the airport early, perhaps they would get me on an earlier flight. No chance, I had a ticket which was not changeable. Oh well, hour hours of sitting around in the small Linate airport.

I like Linate Airport as it is very close to Milan center, perhaps 15 minutes taxi ride compared to Malpensa which is about one hour from Milan center, about a 20 Euro taxi fare compared to a 100 Euro fare.

I sat there in the airport near a café, and watched and observed people, some leaving home to go away on holiday, some finishing their holiday, some meeting people, some saying goodbye. There was a mixture of emotions, happiness, sadness, anxiety, stress, relaxation, frustration, love, care and compassion, it was all there.

When it was time to give my suitcase to Alitalia, two hours before departure, I did so with a sore backside, sitting for so long on a metal chair began to become uncomfortable, and I went through security at departures and through the inevitable duty free shops, finding a coffee bar. This time my cappuccino had no smiling face (see previous article).

After passing through passport control, there were the same metal seating, but I can use my self hypnosis to remove the pain in the backside whilst I wait, as I again I watched my fellow passengers. Some were musicians carrying like they were babies their string instruments, some were business people reading the notes they would need in the business meetings, some were models perhaps just finishing a photo shoot in fashionable Milan, some were on the mobile phones pacing up and down, some were going or returning on holiday.

Then the departure time changed on the gate, not 7:40 but 8:15. 

No announcement, just the change on the board as the person at the gate held her head down.

No point in me loosing my cool, laugh it off, make a joke of it. Then it came to me.

ALITALIA stands for Always Late In Take-off And Late In Arrival.
8:10 came and still no bus came to take us from departure gate to the aircraft, and people started to get fidgety, and with no announcements being made going to the dispatchers, who firmly kept their heads down.

With only about 26 passengers, once we were put onto a bus, it was a quick process, but then more delay as we waited in the bus beside the aircraft for what seemed an age, even the bus driver was getting frustrated by the wait.

Some passengers were getting concerned as it was not an ALITALIA plane but and Air One aircraft. Perhaps they did not know that the two airlines had merged to prevent ALITALIA going into bankruptcy.

By this time I was getting hungry, my poor stomach was as if it was cut open, and I think other passengers were the same. Most airlines give a drink and a sandwich, but I had flown Air One before, and I think they are cutting costs.

Eventually we took off, and after climbing over some angry looking clouds over the Alps, they came round with the trolley.

A drink and some biscuits, thats was it. My hunger would have to wait until I got home.

But wait, just before we landed, we were offered a sweet.

    
Air One food, biscuits, crackers and a sweet.

It was whilst delivering the final day of the NLP Practitioner course in Vicenza, Italy, that I realised that the participants had remembered what I had taught them on my last visit.

Not only had the remembered "Antonio" ("Fred" or "Mustapha"), but "Oh Poo Poo" and "Phillip's Sausage".

A FaceBook group has been created just for "Phillip' Sausage", called "La Salsiccia di Phillip", so sign up now.


La Salsiccia di Phillip


Phillip's Sausage

If you do not know what is Phillip's Sausage, you will have to come on a course. Visit web site nlpnow.net

Modified photograph of Phillip Holt

This is the same photograph, but rotated by 180 degrees. See article Does the brain interpret what it sees correctly?
 
Now look at the eyes and mouth, they are up-side-down. I do not look like this in real life.

When you re-look at the first photograph , the picture looks fine, except it is upside down, the face looks acceptable, and yet now you can see it is wrong. Why?

The human brain is very selective in what it takes in, in what it recognises. The brain will break an image into constituent parts, it will go on a transderivational search to make matches on those parts, and then says those are eyes, that is a mouth, and so on, which individually are correct, but as you now you can see are up-side-down or reversed.

Thus, even though the eyes and mouth are doctored on the rotated photograph, so that they are up-side-down, they appear correct to the brain, and the brain accepts it.

Oh Poo Poo ,

Cat on the mat?

The original photographs can be seen here.

    
Original unmodified photograph and modified up-side-down photograph

View article Does the brain interpret what it sees correctly?

Today I received great news.

Today I started an NLP Practitioner course in Gaziantep, in southern Turkey, and it was a cold start.

Thank goodness the venue was warm along with the participants. A good start to the course.

It could be my age, at 95, bits of me are wrong, and as I have written in the past, I had to have a certain procedure, a coronary angioplasty, or stent placed in the heart. This has meant that I have to take drugs, something that I do not like or enjoy, as they do effect the workings of the body and brain.

Well Christmas Day has come and gone again.

Part of the family (over twenty) arrived for a Xmas feast in the evening, from babes in arms to the oldies, all tucked-in to so much food, we will be eating the left-overs for days to come.

But Santa did not come to my house. Perhaps it is because we have no chimney? No gifts. No wrapping paper. No unwanted socks. No clothes to take back to the shops to exchange for something more suitable.

Maybe, I might get a belated present one day when I get back to the UK, something I have wanted for a long time, slowly unwrapping, revealing that very special thing.

Well, actually I did come down to a special gift, left in my office.

Cat poo.

Being so hot and humid, the windows and doors are always open, but grills stop any intruders getting into the house.

It is a strange Malaysian custom for me, as most homes are like prisons, grills guarding every entry point, even every exit point, (is someone keeping me a prisoner?), inside the window or outside. I have even seen apartments at 20 floors with grills at the windows.

    
Grills inside and outside to stop intruders.
So the cat must have got in during the evening, and not realising an extra guest, the windows and doors were shut as we slept.

Poor thing, must have got hungry, and eat some of a bun called a kaya pau, steamed white dough with a wonderful jam filling (Kaya), and it could not have agreed with its' stomach, because it left me with a present, loads of poo poo, runny diarrhea, smelly, and ........ I will not go on.

Not only had I the cat to clean up after, the floors to wash, but we have another overnight guest. A fruit bat.


Sorry too dark for my flash, but you can see the fruit bat's eyes and shape

Every evening, fruit bat will come and hang from one of the porch wooden beams, and after getting a supply of wild fig or other fruit, will munch away, hanging there up-side-down. Within minutes it seems to come out the other end, landing on the car or floor tiles. It dries every quickly and is very difficult to remove.


Fruit bat droppings on the car

Like life, poo poo happens, (click to understand oh poo poo) just get on with it and have a laugh. (visit the ok.poo.poo web site for jokes)

This morning here in Bukit Mertajam, Malaysia, I am awoken once again by the first call to prayer. The Mosque is a long way from Desa Palma where the house is, but there is only one tree I think between loudspeakers on my eardrums, so there is a direct sound flow. Again he had turned the volume up so much, he was getting feedback, a high whistle.

Laying in bed, knowing that the sun would soon usher away the dark night, I wonder if I am the person he manages to wake up at such an hour. Many times on previous first calls I have looked out of the window, and never seen any lights go on as worshipers prepare themselves. I wonder how many understands him, as most of his talks seem to be in Arabic.

I take three deep breathes to stay calm and not get agitated by such an early awakening (5:30am) Perhaps I may manage to go back to sleep. If I stay calm, the prayers will end, and peace will descend upon me again.

Then the birds start their early morning calls, replacing the night insects chirping.

It seems there is a conspiracy to keep me awake, as the early morning workers on their Honda 50 motorbikes, pop, pop, pop, passed the bedroom window. The odd workers bus, with no exhaust system to silence the noisy diesel engines. The workers are off to start their working day.

Oh Poo Poo, there is nothing for it, but get up, and start my day.

Perhaps Jean-Daniel has added more to the debate we were having on the blog about NLP and PhotoReading. But it seems our dialog may have ended, there is no message.

Maybe there will not be a "Obama and Hillary" alliance, it had ended before it had even started.

I go out into the garden and look for my new friend I gained in the last week.

We have spend ages just looking at each other, there is no conversation, but that is no barrier, there has been no physical contact, we have just being there, being together, confident that we were safe with each other.

I have become quite fond of my new friend. It has not gone too far as I know my friend has their own life to get on with, but I just love being there together just for a while.

I search and search, but my friend is not there. I feel quite empty, lost.

Have I lost my friend?

Have they found another?

I know every thing will eventually come to an end, but this relationship had only just started. There is so much I want to learn, somehow this relationship left right.

I will look again tomorrow. Hopefully I will get a message, some sign that at least they are there.


My friend the lizard
Good friends are hard to come by sometimes.

One of the worse aspects of my job is the time I have to spare between my training courses and presentations.

Due to cancellations in Turkey of an NLP course, (sorry folks), I find myself back in the UK, all alone, nobody to speak to, just the salespeople on the telephone, trying to sell me advertising space, new windows, home and car insurance, or the cashier waiting to take my money.

Oh Poo Poo, nobody loves me.


see whole picture
So, I have to do my own washing, shirts, socks, underwear.

I have to strip the bed, Wash the sheets.

After washing, I have to iron.

I have to prepare my meals. Well actually I have been cheating, getting talk-aways.

I have to clear up after myself, unpack my suitcase, make the bed, do the washing-up, vacuum and dust.

I have had too much time to reflect on what could have been.

It is all too much, I just want to cry.




So, I have time to myself. Great.

I have played with electronics, to get Slingbox to output to a normal television anywhere I am in the world, allowing me to watch my English home TV.

I have been able to catch-up on reading and research on new subjects.

I have had time to become a Master Trainer of Tony Buzan's iMindMaps.

I have had time to go into a retreat, to reevaluate myself.

I have had time to check my health out, to have my smiley eyesight reviewed.

It is not all that bad, it is the way I look at my time.

Perhaps somebody does love me?


see whole picture

I have been very busy these last two months, giving courses and presentations in the UK, Italy, Turkey and Bahrain. I have been educating myself becoming a Master Trainer with the computer software for Mind Maps, iMindMap.

The whole trip was to be three months, lasting until 15th December, but one company canceled the arranged courses I was to do, leaving me a huge bill and difficulty in rearranging flights. Not only have I lost out, but participants have lost-out, some have had to rearrange holidays and work, my translators have also lost work.

OH POO POO

So today I am off to the UK for an early bath.

It is no good crying over spilt milk, so you've got to laugh.

If you have lost a contract, a loved one, a set of keys, a romance, visit http://www.ohpoopoo.com.

Change often goes unnoticed, perhaps because it happens so slowly, or we do not want to have change so we block it out, or it happens while we are being distracted by something else.
 
The previous months have been full of warmth, goodwill, happiness. It was the summer months.

I have been training and travelling to many places, in Turkey, Italy, Malaysia, Bahrain and many places in the UK, I have been very busy.

Ok, there had been down days when it was cool or wet, but the rest was sunny, bright, warm, making me feel good, young at heart, happy.

Now, suddenly, change.

Here in the UK, as in other parts of the world, we have had bad weather. The sun has disappeared, we seem to be under a dark cloud every day. It is raining. It is cold.

Suddenly, people here in the UK are wearing warm clothing, jumpers, coats.

Gone are the Gucci sun glasses.

Today I went for a walk and had a visual signal that change was with us.

Under a heavy clouded sky, standing by the fast flowing cold river Thames, swollen by recent rains, I noticed that the river birds, swans, geese, ducks, were fewer in number than there had been in the summer, restaurants had less people eating at outside tables, but more noticeable were the trees on the opposite bank of the Thames.


The River Thames at Kingston upon Thames in September 2008

The leaves were changing colour, they were not green but yellow.

Oh Poo Poo, change is happening. Best make the best of it.

Continuing my getting rid of stuff, in English we my say "clearing the decks", it was time to let go of some of my connections.

These connections were telephone lines and internet services.

Prior to ADSL, cable, high speed internet connections, when dial-up internet was the only way to get to the world wide web, I decided that I would have to install two telephone lines, and that was basically supplied by one company, BT.

This coincided with a new supplier entering the communications arena, TeleWest, later to become Virgin Media, installing for the first time their infrastructure, cables and services into the area, giving telephone, internet and TV in one package, via high speed cable.

I went with the new supplier TeleWest, having two telephone numbers,  0208 286 9554  and  0208 286 9553 . Great numbers for my business, especially to have two numbers following. I could use one for landline (telephone) communication, and the other for data and fax.

The new suppler also gave internet access at a reduced price with the package. Always glad of an offer, a bargain, I installed their internet, knowing I would gain in access speed to the internet.

But I retained my old BT number, I had too many associations to it. People knew the number, I had web sites giving that number for my business, my internet was connected through it.

The ISP also housed my web sites.

I was very comfortable with the arrangement.

This meant that I had two services, two telephone lines, two internet providers, and two bills (invoices) to pay.

I was still comfortable with the situation. It served my purpose.

My special telephone number  0845 130 6213  for my business was directed to the first installed BT telephone. This is useful, as my business and private life were kept separate.

My Slingbox TV service, which allows me to access British TV via my home TV, live from where-ever I am in the world from my PC and the internet, was on the old internet (ISP) connection.

But it has come to a time when I needed to sort myself out. I had paid too much out.
 
The old ISP had associated with another ISP, sold out. No consideration of how I felt.

Did I need the hassle?

It meant work, to transfer services from one telephone system to the other, to reinstall services I had been using on the old internet service to the new.

Some of these services needed passwords, log-in names, keys. But during my clearing out, my shredding of paperwork, I must have disposed of this information.

Oh Poo Poo. BIG OH POO POO.

I hit the roof. My temper boiled over. I swore. My blood pressure hit new highs.

That was the reason I never throw anything out. Paperwork, nuts and bolts, screws, old manuals, anything. They will be needed in the future, and here was the example.

Then I realised what I was doing to myself, getting worked up was making the situation worse. It was not solving the problem. I needed to calm down.

With the help of the NLP technique I call "Fred", "Antonio", "Mustapha", I took control of my state, I became calm, strong, and was able to workout a new strategy.

I realised that it was no good crying over spilt milk.


Do not cry over spilt milk
Crying over spilt milk is a loverly saying which I describe as the following.

Take a carton or bottle of milk, take the top off, and take it to the sink in the kitchen.

Pour the milk down the drain, and watch it disappear, leaving the empty carton or bottle.

The milk has gone. Finished. It is no good crying over it.

The clock still ticks away, time does not stop for anyone.

Once I stopped beating myself up over what was gone, what I had lost, I was able to sort myself out in a rational calm way, and approaching the problem from a different view point, I soon had everything sorted.

No more paying out for something that was no longer needed. The suppliers were happy to take my money, doing nothing for it.

It takes a lot to let go of what you are comfortable with, but there comes a time when things no longer fit the purpose, their services are no longer appropriate, it is then time to say good-bye, move on.

Today I am still throwing away loads of stuff. Every day I seem to get rid of such a lot of stuff, and yet I find more and more.

As I was filing my old tax returns, I came across this drawing I did in 1986, and it got me thinking.

I have had some bad news. I have had some bad things happening to me. I have had people taking advantage of my better nature. I have had people not telling me the truth. Loads of Oh Poo Poo experiences.

Yes I feel hurt.

Should I take offense? Should I seek revenge? Should I get my own back?

No. It will only get me even further into a depressed state, enter into the dark abyss.

The drawing made me laugh, to see the funny side of life.

Just accept what comes to us, smile, life goes on. So make out of it what you can.

Good luck and enjoy.  See more jokes at http://blog.ohpoopoo.com/ (click to view)


Drawing by Phillip Holt 1986

I was searching around or surfing the internet and came across an old favourite Google Earth. (click to download).

Google Earth maps the earth with images obtained from satellites, aerial imagery and what is known as geographic information system (GIS), or 3D images. You are presented with the Earth as a globe, and zoom into a particular place, seeing detailed pictures as if flying overhead like a bird.

I looked at my own home at the moment in Norbiton Hall, Kingston upon Thames, my home in Bukit Mertajam, Malaysia, then my old family home along Spring Hill, Chasetown, where my mother and father raised me.

 
Norbiton Hall, Kingston upon Thames, UK.                      Desa Palma, Alma, Bukit Mertajam, Malaysia

 
68 Springhill, Chasetown, UK
Memories came flooding back. The drive, the back garden with my own little patch which I cultivated, not very well, as it was out of sight behind the garage with a tree that continually produced shoots from under the soil making it impossible to grow anything.

Then there was the back shed where I would play and hide if my mother called me, and I knew I had done something wrong from the tone of her voice.

I wondered up and down the street, "Oh that's the Bentons' house." "There's were the Ormrods' lived." "My friends house, the Pascoe twins, David and Roger."

Then I looked down at where my old school had been, Chase Terrace Secondary Modern. It was a long, single storey building, I think having been designed by an architect who had just played with the ink blob test.

Place some ink in the middle of a piece of paper, fold the paper in half, pressing the ink. When the paper is opened, the ink image may look like a butterfly, the image is identical on the two halves.

So it was with Chase Terrace Secondary Modern School. The two halves were identical, joined in the middle by the two assembly halls and the kitchens, then one by one the class rooms, ending with the out-buildings the toilet blocks.

In my early days at the school, one half was for boys and the other was for girls, and neither were allowed to meet. The boys started at a different time to the girls, had different play (break) and lunch times. It was only in my last year that the two schools amalgamated into a co-educational system.

Looking down at Google Earth, my old school had gone.

My toilet blocks had gone. I was "Bog Prefect" in my last year, looking after the toilets, and they had gone.

The school field was half its' size, it now had buildings on it, and the long school building was a square structure.


Chase Terrace School, with a car park on the right where my toilet block was.

Oh Poo Poo, no bogs anymore.

Globe trotter. Jet setter. Lucky.

Names I have been called for the type of work I do.

Yes I travel a lot with my work as an International Trainer. China, Malaysia, Sri Lanka, India, Bahrain, Saudi Arabia, Turkey, Italy etc. Then there are the holiday trips, Peru, Ecuador, the Galapagos Island, Iceland, Thailand, Spain, Bali.

Yester-year, travel or air fares were cheap, but with governments putting taxes on travelers and the cost of fuel, it is getting more and more expensive.

The major national carrier airlines, British Airlines, Alitalia, Turkish Airlines, Malaysian Airlines, Gulf Air, are cutting corners in trying to save money, and in the light of increased competition from start-up airlines and the low cost cheap carriers like Asia Air, EasyJet, Ryann Air, Onur Air, offering less and less.

Often, as you start looking for prices to get from A to B and back to A again, the low cost airlines seem to be cheaper. But, it is the hidden add-ons, to pay for a snack and a drink, to pay to put a suitcase or luggage in the aircraft hold, the cost of getting to an airfield, the taxes, that the true cost is revealed, and there is not so much difference in pricing.

For me, I live about twenty minutes from Heathrow, and by taxi, I would pay about £30 (Pounds Stirling). Luton Airport where most of EasyJet flight depart will take perhaps one hour thirty minutes by taxi at a cost of £80 (pounds Stirling). Stansted Airport where most of Ryann Air depart from is a good two hours away, and about £110 (Pounds Stirling) by taxi.

Then where do they land at the destination. Add that cost into the equation, and the scheduled, national carriers are often cheaper.

My trip to Verona (see article) required me to firstly go to Bergamo to work with and visit my colleague Alessio Roberti recovering from a knee operation.

There is an airport, Orio, which is 10 minutes away, but to fly to it would mean a 5:30am departure from Luton Airport. How would I get there. Too expensive for a taxi, no public transport at that time of the night, and I cannot drive and leave the car there, as I will not return to Luton Airport but Gatwick, the other side of London.

The best way to get to Italy was to fly from Heathrow's Terminal 5 at 11:00am with British Airways, BA576.

A quick bus ride for £2 (Pound Stirling) to Heathrow, and a short underground/tube/metro ride to the new Terminal 5, my first visit. I left the tube station via the escalator for Departures. All well to the next floor level up with lots of signs for Arrivals, but once there, no signs for Departures located on the next floor (top floor). I could not find or see an escalator to take me up there, and I was not the only one. The only way I could get there was to take a lift down to the tube station and then a lift back up to departures. I was confused.

The flight to Italy, would take me to Milan's Malpensa airport, an hours bus ride into the center of Milan. From the center of Milan there would be another bus ride to Bergamo where I would be picked up, another hours ride.

After visiting Alessio and his lovely family, I had to get to Verona, This involved a train journey from a small station called Traviolo, again about an hour. Riding the Italian railways is an experience, good clean trains, but the stations seem to only have name sign, so depending were you are seated, you either know where you are or not. Catching the 9pm train meant that there was no way I would see the sign of Verona anyway. The only way was to hope the train would be on time, and I knew the expected arrival time, so get off then. Trouble was the train stopped outside Verona station.

My flight back from Verona was BA2599 at 10 pm, it would mean an arrival at Gatwick at 11 pm, enough time for me to get across from arrivals to the train station, catch a train towards London, change at Clapham Junction for the local train back to Kingston upon Thames, the last train being 1am.  

Having been dropped off at the airport early by Raffaele Tovazzi at the airport, I had three hours to wait for my flight. Well that will be enough time for a meal at the restaurant, not quite up to the usual high standard and quality food of Italy, but I can sit and relax. I sit eating some sort of meat and my eye caught the departure screen, my flight BA2599 delayed 45 minutes.

Oh Poo Poo, not good. Not only that but a plane load of tourists had their flight delayed and were given vouchers for a meal in the restaurant, meaning I would have to leave.

I went outside and sat in the car park and watched the sunset, tired, fed-up and concerned if BA would actually get me home.

Sunset at Verona Airport

Eventually the flight left Verona at 23:00. Oh Poo Poo, would I catch a train?

I raced through the terminal upon arrival, purchased a train ticket, and then asked when the next train to London was.

Big Oh Poo Poo, it had gone, the next one would be one and a half hours later, and I would not get a train back to Kingston. Idiot, why didn't I ask first before buying the ticket?

Nothing for it, order a taxi. £45 (Pound Stirling), and back home at 2:30 am.

Globe trotter, jet setter. Forget it. Stay at home.

Often, when we are feeling down, when life is getting too much, all we see is the negative of what life is throwing at us.

Perhaps someone is not contacting us, and we feel alone an neglected.

Perhaps the chocolate cake has not risen enough in the oven, and has sunk in the middle.

Perhaps there is not a patch of blue sky to be seen, just cloud hanging over us.

Perhaps what we had hoped and expected to happen, has not.

The more we sit waiting for things to improve, the worse life becomes.

Oh Poo Poo.

For years, the window ledge of the front windows of the flat, overlooking the busy road which used to flood (see pictures Floods in Kingston upon Thames) so much here near Norbiton Hall, there have been plants in a various assortments of plant pots.

An Amaryllis, with it's large bell-like flowers lasting for a couple of days, leaving for the rest of the year, long green leaves.

An Aloe Vera plant that gets more and more like a Triffid.

A strange long stemmed plant with little tufts of leaves at the top of the stem. See article on Adenium obesum var. multiflorum. Tomorrow.

And then there are the cactus plants, that are so slow in growing, even a kettle boils quicker, and they do nothing.

It is that one moment, blink and you miss it, that the cactus blooms, and yesterday it was such a moment.

A delicate yellow bloom, with petals so thin they were like rice paper, as if you could see through them. I dare not touch them.



How often do we miss that one moment of beauty, happiness, joy? Let them slip through our fingers, like sand on the beach.

Today the bloom has not opened, but I still have the memories that will last a lifetime, to draw me out of the depths of doom and gloom.

Use "Phillip's Sausage" to see, hear and feel more. Please do not miss out or dismiss to good things in your life.

See next article Another bloom coming and Just like a bus
PS. If you know the name of the cactus, please drop me a comment.

I am really depressed, down, lost after a week of throwing "stuff" away. See article I am a hoarder.

I say "stuff" rather than "junk", because the things I have disposed of, thrown out do or did have worth to me, memories, perhaps some use in the future, or some use to someone else, perhaps to show people what life was like some few years ago, what we had to suffer with.

But what are the use of my old degree assignments? Yes I was proud of them, neatly bound, lots of effort and hours invested in them, but taking a whole shelf up. Out.

Old manuals of programming languages I used in the early days of computing, NCR's NEAT 3, COBOL, "C" and "C++", IQ Lisp the Artificial Intelligence Language of Texas Instruments, operating systems like DR DOS, MS DOS, UNIX and JCL, networking systems like NOVELL, ARC Lantastic, MS Workgroups. The list goes on and on.

Cables that would allow me to connect computers together in a network, to connect printers, power cables, the circuit boards I have, networking cards, sound cards, video cards, spare hard drives so small now in capacity 100 MB, 2.5 inch floppy disk drives, 5 inch floppy inch drives.

What about the computers I had. Four good computers from around 1998. Two good video displays, massive and heavy by todays flat screen LCD screens.

Four good printers, only needing toner or ink.

Software packages, some unopened, LANtastic network software, Windows operating systems, DOS, Windows, Laplink, ProCom communication software, Word processors WordPerfect, MS Works etc. All so out-of-date. Useless.

Do I put them in the waste bin? No we are not allowed to do that.

Do I take them to a recycling depot? Could do, so they would be shipped to China to be striped down.

Do I sell them in the local paper, at a car boot or eBay? Tried eBay, no takers. Car boot, none going on near me.

Give them away? Yes.

On my daily walk into Kingston upon Thames town center to get exercise, I pass a small computer shop come internet café, Activ Euro, Old London Road, which I know repairs computers, perhaps he could have and use them?

The owner, told me he would have a look at them, but all he would do would perhaps throw them away. He told me a company collects once a month the old computers and pays £1 per machine. In his shop window there are things or "stuff" that has been there a long time, so long the packaging is fading. US Robotics or 3COM Palm PDA, still new, but so out of date, (5 years), and no takers. CD drives, no-one wants them.

People go into his shop to have a printer repaired, and he tells them to buy a new one, as it will cost more just to remove the covers than it would for a new one.

I give him two car loads of "stuff". Perhaps he can use some of it, a cable here, a board there.

That afternoon, passing his shop again, I notice my old printer, a QMS Color Laserjet 2, sitting next to his networked internet access computers. Good he has found a use for it.

Wikipedia defines The throw-away society as :- a human society strongly influenced by consumerism. The term describes a critical view of over-consumption and excessive production of short-lived or disposable items.

In my case it was not a case of over-consumption, or excessive production, or disposable items. I only purchased what was needed at the time. But, technology moves on, new ideas superseded the old, new products are cheaper to buy than to repair the old.
 
In the case of my QMS printer, the cost of the replacement toner cartridges was more than the cost of a new printer.

I do not want the latest gadget, (yes I do, but cannot afford it), but sometimes technology leaves the old obsolete like analog TV, now going to digital, the old TVs will not work.

Yes, and manufacturers build in to their equipment a time clock when components fail.

It is still so depressing to throw away such history, so many memories, so much knowledge that I spent so much blood sweat and tears learning, that will never be seen or used again.

Oh well, more space for my books on NLP, hypnosis and memory. But then I have so many books that I will never make use of again, QUARKXPRESS Handbook, The UNIX Programming Environment, Visual Basic, Business Law, Human Resource Management, on and on and on. Anyone wants them?

Oh Poo Poo, I'm so depressed.

Perhaps the owner of Activ Euro can make some use of my old computer "stuff".

I have had some feedback and comments after my article I am a hoarder, which raised discussions, and provoked my thinking into what defines being a hoarder.

One definition defines hoarding as the collection or acquisition of items in large numbers of "seemingly" useless possessions, and that collector fails to make use of them or discard them, that it causes clutter, which then stops other basic activities of living such as sleeping, washing, cleaning or getting access to the "storage" area.

There are a number of words I would like to look at in the sentence above.

Collection or acquisition. Many people I know have hobbies, they collect things, from books, stamps, coins, cut glass vases, cutlery, plants, aircraft identification, train numbers, etc etc. The last two are very British, and I know, those of you reading this in countries other than Great Britain (see English or British - Confused? I'll explain.) will have no concept of this hobby. The question is, when does it cease being a hobby and become an obsession?

Seemingly. In whose eyes are the collections or acquisitions of no importance or useless, only to those who give the label to someone else of a hoarder. To the "hoarder" the items are very important and are or could be useful.

Could be. Surely, someone who thinks "could be", is a forward thinking person, one of vision, a planner, be ready for any eventuality.

Useless. When does an item become "useless". Only when someone cannot see a use for the item. What use is a used stamp to anyone, you cannot send a letter with it. What use is a souvenir of a holiday, a football program, the souvenir program of a play or concert? But a screw, a nut and bolt, an elastic band, a headache tablet, they can be useful.

Fails to make use. How can you make use of an old coin, that has long gone out of circulation, or a football program that was for a match years ago, or a badge from a meeting that was hung around the neck?

Clutter. Another word for being untidy, being in a mess. I look at some of the fashions of today, yes I know I was the same and still the same, where people wear a collection of clutter, they are a mess, yet in their eyes, they are not. I have seen the rooms of great thinkers, visionaries, professors, where there is no spare space in their rooms.

Basic activities. What is basic to one person, will not be to another. This I think can be defined to what is important to a person. One person will only wear a jumper, shirt or blouse once, and then have to have the item washed, others will wear the item many times. Some people will shower in the morning, some only at night, and some only once a week. What is basic?

Sleeping, washing, cleaning or getting access. Sleeping, well I know people who sleep in very strange places. Washing is what we are used to. I know of people who after a nights sleep, get up and get dressed and go straight to work without a shower. To me that is wrong, after sweating all night in bed, but then they must have a shower before going to bed to rid themselves of all the dirt and sweat acquired during the day. Cleaning, I have a friend who cleans the house from top to bottom every day, others, once a year. Getting access to is easy, just move one or two things.

Yesterday I went to the Hampton Court Flower Show, (video may follow) and saw people collecting/buying vast quantities of plants, garden accessories, all being pulled around in coloured plastic boxes on wheels, often empty, known as trolleys. Totally useless items, which will end-up at the back of the garage, shed, greenhouse or corner of the garden.

 


At Hampton Court Flower Show, coloured plastic boxes on wheels, often empty, known as trolleys..

I looked at some of the show gardens, and they are a collection of seemingly useless items, plants. They do nothing, just grow, and at one time they were weeds in some far off country, and are still classed as weeds there. And people stood for a long time admiring this garden full of "seemingly" useless possessions.


Seemingly useless items and plants at Hampton Court Flower Show.

One garden had vegetables growing. To me it was a mess, just plants all mixed up. Another showed wild weeds, or what they called it pasture. You could not access the garden as it would spoil the look.

          A mass of vegetables. Useless to me, I hate vegetables.

Around the grounds of Hampton Court were signs, "KEEP OFF THE GRASS". In the show itself were signs, "DO NOT TOUCH". So I could not gain access. The thing is I could if I had wanted to, and so it is with a hoarder, they can if they want too. I know where everything is, I can have access to the item if so required.

When does a collector become a hoarder? When another puts that label on them, when it does not fit their word, their understanding, likes and dislikes.

Compulsive hoarding or it could be classed as pathological hoarding, can be a sign of the condition known as obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD) or obsessive-compulsive personality disorder (OCPD), and can be treated in many ways, including as I have done with NLP.

An extreme form of hoarding, is the collecting of rubbish, waste, for example old newspapers, empty tins, empty water or Coke bottles, and is known as syllogomania or disposophobia.

But, I have repaired my old cars with used tins which used to contain Corned Beef, stored oil in a soft drinks bottle.

So, when does a "seemingly" useless item become an artifact and become a museum piece, surely the museums of every country hoard items? When are my old computers, my old Palm Pilot PDA's and prior to them the Apple Newton or the Psion handheld become museum pieces, collectables and not junk? When will my disc's containing hours of work creating programs for the many customers I had become unwanted?

It is all in the eye of the beholder.

Oh Poo Poo. My brain hurts.

It must be my age. I seem to be spending more time in this last couple of year going to the hospital, than I had in the rest of my life.

Oh Poo Poo.

This time I had to attend the Joint Ophthal Consultant's Ophthalmology clinic, (try saying that after a couple of booze), to see the Reu Fluoresceins, (if someone had eye problems how would they be able to see?), at the Royal Eye Unit of Kingston Hospital.

I had been called to see the Practice Nurse at my local GP (General Practitioners) Surgery, "just to keep an eye on me", but maybe, to attain the statistical figures set by the British Government and Local Heath Authorities of the NHS (National Heath Service).

Although it is said, the NHS or the British health service is the envy of the world, where all medical treatment is free at source, it is run on statistics, figures and targets. The length of the waiting list to see a doctor, the number of people seen, the number of patients given the flu injection over a certain age, the number of women patients having had the smear test (cervical cancer), all are figures that have to be met so that they will be paid.

I was offered the pneumonia jab or injection. Um, I wonder why? Figures again? Or had they purchased too many units? Waste not. Want not.

During my appointment I mentioned a problem with my sight, and was told to go straight to hospital as an emergency. That was two months ago (see Falling apart at the seams), waiting list is a big problem with the British NHS, but I have been seen by a couple of clinics in those two months.

Yesterdays visit to the Joint Ophthal Consultant's Ophthalmology clinic, to see the Reu Fluoresceins, (I still cannot say it, nor could the other patients waiting to see the doctor), I had "stuff" put into my eyes, and as I sat waiting for the effect of the "stuff" to happen, my sight began to distort, get blurred.

I started thinking about how precious sight is.

It was walking home that my sight became even more strange, no wonder they had said, do not drive.

At home, my vision was bad, I could not focus to read, see my small screen of the computer, see a clear picture on the TV, or focus on the wonderful smelling lilies in the hallway.


Lilies giving a wonderful over-powering perfume
Yes, sight is very precious. Without it, how are we going to gain information of the world around us. See the smile of on a face, marvel at the colours of the countryside, the shapes of buildings and trees.

I began to appreciate what a get thing sight is.

But is sight the most precious?

A couple of years ago, I found I had a problem with my heart which had to be dealt with. Is the heart the most precious thing, as without it there would be no life. I know with a slightly ill functioning heart, I was not able to function well.

That incident and the drugs I had to take, led to problems with my ears or hearing, (see Today has so much going on for me.) when my one ear had a blood clot inside, stopping me hearing well. I could not hear the sounds of the birds early in the morning, the dawn chorus, the voice of someone talking to me, the sound of waves washing the sea shore.

Is sound the most precious?

How about touch? The feeling of cuddling up to, holding a loved one in your arms, holding hands, have a baby hold onto your little finger, feel the texture of silk, the warmth of wool.

Is touch the most precious?

What about taste? My last meal in Istanbul at the Barcelona Restaurant along Taxim Hill was a great tasting meal, one I have tasted many times and look forward to. And then, what about the taste of a chocolate cake?


Barcelona Restaurant along Taxim Hill, Istanbul
Is taste the most precious?

What about smell? The smell of perfume worn by a lady, the smell of those lilies, the chocolate cake being baked in the oven, the smell of burned aviation fuel or the passing steam locomotive (train). All smells I love.

Is smell the most precious?

I now think it is all of our senses, or in NLP terms modalities, VAKOG, that are precious to us, and it is our ability to appreciate them at a conscious level that is the most precious.

It was on a recent visit to RAF Duxford of the Imperial War Museum, where I went to carryout some research on the Spitfire, Hurricane and Merlin Engine, that I appreciated all my senses.

To see actual aircraft in front of me, to hear a Sopwith Camel flying overhead, to smell the fuel, to touch the exhibit, to taste a wonderful bun to quell my hunger, to meet an ex Avro Lancaster bomber pilot, Philip Gray, to be able to read his book (Ghosts of Targets Past) about his experiences, to imagine his life as he lived through the Second World War, flying, death, love and fear.



A small video of a Sopwith Camel flying at RAF Duxford, July 2008

It is our brain that is the most precious, without it we would not be able to process all the information being fed into it.

Look after it. Do not abuse it.

So I do not really do the tourist thing (click to read), but it was good to have a free morning on a weekends training. I can always make a metaphor from my experience of the Vatican and the Basilica, Saint Peter's.

After a bite of lunch to eat with Elena Martelli my translator, it was back to the hotel to make sure I was happy with the room set-up. We had 28 participants to prepare for, and we wanted it right.


Elena Martelli and Phillip Holt. Rome 2008

It is so satisfying to train willing people, those that who wish to learn and experiment.

We covered such areas of NLP as, the Meta Model, Anchors, Eye Accessing Cues, Chunking, Deep Structure - Surface Structure, The Map is not the Territory, Transderivational Search, and not forgetting Oh Poo Poo.

The group worked hard and had fun, as they put into practice the training.

For those participants that wish to review the NLP Meta Model structure in Italian, please click here.

Thank you all who attended. I cannot do my job without you.


Practicing the NLP Meta Model, Rome 2008.

I was first out of the aircraft, well apart from the Business Class passengers and that horrid child. (click)

I had a train to catch from Rome's Fiumicino Aeroporto (airport), on the Leonardo Express to Roma Termini railway station. It is a fastish service running every 30 minutes and taking just over 30 minutes for 11 Euro. Better than a taxi which will cost 50 Euro.

The journey on the train was pleasant, only because an Italian sitting opposite to me insisted on talking and telling me his life story of how Italy had changed so much, and that he had moved to Australia, but still wanted to be with his family near Naples. On and on he went, Please let me look at the countryside.

Peace at last, as I got a taxi to the Jolly Hotel, Leonardo Da Vinci, where I was to stay and give the NLP Practitioner course.

Elena my translator and friend contacted me to say she would be in my hotel reception at 8:30pm so that we can go and have a meal. I had just a few minutes to wait for a welcome real Italian pizza.

It was during the evening when I asked what time do we start that I found that the course did not start at 9am Saturday morning as I presupposed (see definition English or Italian), but 2pm in the afternoon.

Oh Poo Poo I could have flown Saturday morning and saved one night in the hotel.

Still, I can rest Saturday morning, and perhaps go for a walk.

The evening meal, the pizza, was not the best, but certainly welcomed, as we sat at the tables on the street outside the restaurant, a practice most restaurants employ. It was the ice cream that followed that I enjoyed.

Oh how I love Italian ice cream, Sicilian the most, with all their exotic flavours, coconut being my favourite, full of real coconut.

Perhaps I can work on the internet Saturday morning?

No way. The Jolly Hotel chain as many in around the world, but not Turkey, charge extra for access to the internet. In this case 5 Euro (£4) for half an hour. Robbery.

Then Elena told me, in her hotel, which is much cheaper than mine, she has free access.

Oh Poo Poo I will have to watch BBC World Service or CNN all night.

The start of my journey proved to be going wrong, (click to read previous times), but my faith in Oh Poo Poo saw me through with a smile on my face.

As I travel so much in the air, I have a reasonable idea of where I would like to sit. I cannot afford Business or First Class travel, why pay so much when you arrive at the same time, and instead of the food being served on china plates, it is served on plastic, so I fly baggage class. In with the suitcases in the hold.

If possible I try and get the front seat window of the economy cabin. This has a number of advantages. I can rest my head on the bulkhead of the aircraft to sleep, I can be one of the first off the aircraft, so less queuing at passport control, and sometimes the seats are the same seat of those in Business Class, they just move the class divider to give more seat to economy class.

Failing the front seat, get the emergency window exit seat over the wings. These seats give more leg room, and also allows you to leave the seat without disturbing the people in the seats next to you.

Failing getting either of the first two options, get the very back window seats. OK it is more bumpy with air turbulence, but you tend to get your food first, and so what, there is going to be a big queue and a fight to get off the aircraft, sit back and let them get on with it.

So it was on my trip to Roma, I was able to get seat 4A, front of economy, lots of space, just the last business class seat in front of me and dividing curtain. I can put-up with that for two hours the flight would take.

The problem was, there was a small child, less than 5 years old occupying seat 3A in front of me.

I do not know what nationality the child was, as I could not understand the language, even "Mama" was said in a foreign tongue I have never heard before.

The mother had no discipline over the child. It was jumping up and down. The seat back was continually being raised up and down into my face. It was screaming and shouting, laughing and crying at will. It ran up and down the isle.

People around me were really upset. No sleep was achieved. Just an unruly child.

To make matters worse, when the meal was served, lunch, it was pathetic. a sandwich, little biscuit and red orange juice.

Alitalia food June 2008, London to Rome. AZ203

This is cost cutting to extreme. A year ago, although again the food was pathetic, Alitalia did serve more.

Alitalia food May 2007, London to Milan.

Yes this is how most airlines are going, but the only difference I can tell with the low cost airlines and scheduled national carriers, is that on low cost flights you can choose either to buy or not to buy food, and you have a choice what to buy, and on national carriers, you get no choice, and you will probable pay twice the amount for the ticket.

Oh Poo Poo sit back and enjoy, at least I will get to Rome.

I was asked by my good friend Alessio Roberti founder of NLPItaly to give part of the NLP Practitioner course to participants in Rome.

It is not the first time I have been to Rome. Over the years I have given many courses there, and seen private clients on a 1-2-1 basis.

Rome certainly has a character of its' own, from the cobbled streets, to the history of ancient Rome, the religious aspects of the many churches, plus the Vatican.

Every building in Roma has character, unlike Milano which are built in a style from Mussolini days, very flat and square, no shape.

I had decided to leave Friday 12:15 midday, on an Alitalia flight from Heathrow, and checked in on the internet, and I checked the flight details prior to leaving home, and all was OK.

On arriving in Heathrow, Terminal 2, I approached a representative of Alitalia, only to be told the flight had not even left Rome on its' inward journey to London. Oh Poo Poo.

"Would it actually be flying or would it be canceled?"

No problem, there will be other flights, the course does not start until Saturday morning.

I went through to departures. At least I can look around the limited duty free shops. Now I know why they are there, as I am forced to buy more books to read. Thank goodness for PhotoReading.

Two and a half hours delay. Oh Poo Poo but no rush, I can relax.

An announcement is made over the public address system:-

      "All Alitalia passengers on AZ203, please go to desk number one, where you can obtain a food voucher."

Great, I can get some decent food for lunch, as all Alitalia now serve is a non descript sandwich, a small biscuit and a soft drink in a plastic cup. One good thing to come out of the delay.

The queue at desk number one is long, and I begin to talk to the fellow passengers around me.

I heard different accents. American, Australian, German, Italian, British. All had a tail to tell. All of the looked tired, sleepless, and were complaining.

The Americans had flown into London the previous day, but instead of seeing the sites, had gone to bed.

The Australians had left Australia two days previously, the flight was late leaving, flown to Hong Kong, were their connecting flight with Cathay Pacific to Rome had just left. They were re booked onto another fight with Korean Air going to London, from London they would take Alitalia to Rome. In all the confusion, their baggage had been lost.

Oh Poo Poo.

My delay was nothing.

But the queue was not moving. For half an hour we stood in the same place. Alitalia had run out of meal vouchers.

Oh Poo Poo.

Eventually, I got my voucher, and had my lunch. I was lucky, I had nothing special to do. Elena Martelli my translator for the weekend would not arrive in Rome until 8pm, when we would meet and have an evening meal together. No rush.

That's another story.

Have you any jokes, good pictures, or funny stories you can share?

Please send them to us at jokes@ohpoopoo.com so that we can post them on the Oh Poo Poo web sites www.ohpoopoo.com or http://blog.ohpoopoo.com .


THANK YOU.

It seems that restaurants come and go like the Basil Restaurant here in Norbiton, they change their names on a regular basis, some as many times as they change their menu.

Like any business, a profit has to be made to pay wages, rent and rates, tax and to invest in the future. Although sometimes it is nice to dine in a quiet romantic restaurant, looking into a loved ones eyes, sharing stories and memories, a quiet empty restaurant will not pay the bills.

Perhaps such restaurants have to change the menu. Perhaps they have to change their decor, tables, cutlery, plates. Perhaps they have to change their prices. Perhaps they have to change the attitude of the staff, waiters, cashiers, cooks.

How can they do that?

Perhaps look at other restaurants, at how they are succeeding. Perhaps they should ask their customers as to what they want. Perhaps they should employ consultants.

Here is an example and a lesson on how consultants can make a difference for an organization.

Last week, I took some friends out to a restaurant, and noticed that the waiter who took our order carried a spoon in his shirt pocket.

It seemed a little strange. When the waiter brought our water and utensils, I noticed he also had a spoon in his shirt pocket. Then I looked around and saw that all the staff had spoons in their pockets. When the waiter came back to serve our soup I asked, "Why the spoon?"

 

"Well," he explained, "the restaurant's owners hired ABC Consulting to revamp all our processes. After several months of analysis, they concluded that the spoon was the most frequently dropped utensil. It represents a drop frequency of approximately 3 spoons per table per hour. If our personnel are better prepared, we can reduce the number of trips back to the kitchen and save 15 man-hours per shift."

As luck would have it, or on purpose, I dropped my spoon and the waiter was able to replace it with his spare.

"I'll get another spoon next time I go to the kitchen instead of making an extra trip to get it right now."

I was impressed.

Then I noticed that there was a string hanging out of the waiter's trouser fly. Looking around, I noticed that all the waiters had the same string hanging from their flies.

So before he walked off, I asked the waiter, "Excuse me, but can you tell me why you have that string right there?"

"Oh, certainly!

Then he lowered his voice. "Did you have a sausage for breakfast? Not everyone is so observant.

That consulting firm I mentioned also found out that we could save time in the restroom. By tying this string to the tip of our "you know what", we can pull it out without touching it and eliminate the need to wash our hands, shortening the time spent in the restroom by 76.39 percent."

Last night here in Bahrain there was a wedding party, but I was not invited.

I had just finished day two of a PhotoReading course organised by the MakeOver Experience (click to view courses in Bahrain), and was looking forward to a quiet night watching a recording of the BBC program The Apprentice on my UK TV via the internet and Slingbox.

Typical hotel charges of 6BD or about £12 for twenty four hours access to the internet, not good value really as I will be asleep for say 8 hours, then today I will be running the last day of the PhotoReading course, but at 2BD or £4 and hour, it is cheaper to buy 24 hours.

I enjoy The Apprentice, the characters, personalities, the games they play trying to win a job with Sir Alan Sugar.

Then the ceiling of my 9th floor room in the Elite Hotel, Bahrain, began to drum as a band started playing Arabic music, heavy with base instruments and drums.

Chairs were being moved across the floor of the venue above me.

I contacted reception to ask how long the party would be going on until, and I was informed "2am".

Oh Poo Poo. I need sleep. I have been kept awake by different sounds, but I have never slept with a dance band or at a wedding party.

Without any hesitation, I was invited to change rooms, to be upgraded to a Gold Suite, and lots of apologizes.

All I want is a quiet room of reasonable quality, a shower, and a TV, not a suite. But I am not complaining.

Thank you Elite Hotel.

Phillip Holt at Kuantum Liderlik (Quantum Leadership), Istanbul, May 2008

After four days of courses in Milano, (PhotoReading and Mind Maps), finishing Sunday evening, I had to be up early the next morning, 4am, to get the early morning flight to Istanbul to give a talk at the Kuantum Liderlik (Quantum Leadership) seminar.

I had hoped that my talk had been rescheduled to late afternoon, and looked forward to a shower and rest as I was driven from the airport to the Conrad Hotel, Istanbul, where the seminar was being held. But no, I was met at the entrance to the hotel by a lovely smile and told I was due on at 1:30pm, first after lunch.

Oh Poo Poo (Watch out for a new web site coming soon.) At least I had some food prior to preparing for my slot.

Although I missed the morning speakers, I decided to keep my talk light and informative on the requested talk on Mind Maps, using examples produced on iMindMaps software, (download free trial version below).

It was a great privilege to be able to share the stage with great speakers as Anthony Galie, R. Şanal Günseli, Professor Stefano D'anna, Gordon M Bethune and the lovely Ege sisters, fashion designers and founders of Dice Kayek.

To end my talk, I was asked if I could demonstrate PhotoReading, as I had shocked a couple of the organisers on my ability to absorb vast amounts of words in seconds.

Professor Stefano D'anna had launched in Turkish his book, "La Scuola degli Dei", the Turkish name is "Tanrılar Okulu" or the English name is "School of Gods", and whilst on stage, I borrowed a copy from one of the audience, and flipped through the book PhotoReadingat speeds greater than 20,000 - 30,000 wpm.

The book was is Turkish, and it is known that I only speak about ten words of the Turkish language, counting from 1 to 6, and a few more words, but I did PhotoRead the Turkish/English, English/Turkish dictionary, and my belief system knows that I will be able to understand the gist (meaning) of the book.

I had the impression that the book was something about a man, a dreamer, perhaps in the USA, supported by a woman, like pillars, but these pillars were lost, maybe by the loss of the woman, perhaps his wife, as he overcame all odds, plus more.

I asked if anyone had read the book, and if so, was I close? A few people who had read the book in Turkish put their hands up and said I was very close.

Remember I do not read or speak Turkish, nor had I read or seen the book or met Professor Stefano D'anna before the seminar. It even surprised me.

At great day and stay for me at the Conrad Hotel Istanbul.


Conrad Hotel with dolmush mini bus
See the seminar flyer

For the last few weeks I have been rushing around in the skies between the UK, Turkey and Italy, at enjoying the company of many people both participating in, and helping with the courses and presentations I have given.

At "95", it appears I am falling apart at the seams.

The zip in my trousers fell apart. So, it was a less expensive suit from Erol in Taxim Square, Istanbul. It was not like my last encounter, (see My Trousers are Undone) with my memory failing me.

The heels of my shoes wearing away whilst in Gaziantep. Now I know why I take glue with me on my travels.

A crown off one of my teeth coming off, and a filling in one of my back teeth falling out.

The handle from my suitcase breaking, a bad design by Samsonite. Then the locking mechanism on another Samsonite suitcase breaking. Good for Samsonite, they replaced that lock free.

The case on my new Philips computer beginning to split.

Will I get paid for the presentations I have done?

Then on a routine blood test I find that my blood sugar levels are a little high. I do not want diabetes, so I must watch my sugar intake. It is difficult when living in hotels and eating in restaurants as I seem to do. So, I was called back to the doctors. Blood pressure fine, a quick check on the blood sugar level seemed reasonable, but then.

I happened to mention a vision problem, not so much a problem but a change. I then find myself in the emergency eye hospital. Now I must await the report on that.

Oh Poo Poo, I am falling apart.

It has been a long run of training in Turkey, and I am on my way back to the UK. Sitting here in the departure lounge, I find that the flight has been delayed by another hour from Gaziantep to Istanbul.

Oh Poo Poo. (click to understand)

But I can reflect on a great night I had in Gaziantep, where I was invited to a meal with participants. Over twenty attended and I gave them their first experience of stage hypnosis. (click to learn stage hypnosis)

It was great fun for all, especially those "stars" who stepped forward to be the show.

  Getting the "stars" into hypnotic trance. Plus Zafer on the floor.

                                                          Keeping each other warm.
        
            She would not leave the stage, her shoes were glued to the floor.    

I did not get much sleep prior to leaving for Turkey, waking up at 3:30 am, knowing that I had a taxi to take me to Heathrow airport at 5 am to catch the Turkish Airlines flight to Istanbul.

I had a talk scheduled for the staff at Vodafone (Turkey) at 5:30 that afternoon, and I was tired, I needed sleep and rest. I think I got some on the four hour flight, interrupted by the serving of breakfast, the crying young babies, and the endless throbbing noise from the engines and air conditioning.

Upon arrival in Istanbul, should I take a coach into the center of Istanbul, to my hotel in Taxim Square, The Seminal Hotel, or should I take a taxi. The coach should be 15 Turkish Lira compared to say 30 Turkish Liar for a taxi? I was getting late, 1:30 pm, I needed to get to Vodafone for about 4:30pm to prepare myself and the venue. Taxi was the only answer.

I quickly got into the standard public yellow taxi (34 TDH 59), and in broken English the taxi driver made some conversation with me, playing some Hip Pop CD music, and wearing some wrap-around sunglasses.

Then I heard the words, "Traffic, Istanbul, problem."

Whenever I hear those words I know that the driver will take me a long route. so that the meter will charge even more.

Oh well what can I do? I need to get to Taxim Square, and there is no other way. There was nothing else to do but to relax, stay calm and enjoy the ride. And, it was a great ride, because it is the 3rd International Tulip Festival of Istanbul, and along the road they had planted thousands of tulips, now fully in bloom. I could not capture the true wonder and splendor of the colour.

 2008, 3rd International Tulip Festival, Istanbul, from taxi 34 TDH 59

Sure enough, when it was time to leave the coast road to head into the center of Istanbul, he said again, "Traffic, Istanbul, problem." I could see a queue of cars, and said OK as he headed straight on, following the coast road.
 
All was well until we hit another queue of traffic. He lost his temper, hitting the steering wheel and shouting in Turkish.

Me? I just laughed and said "yavaş, yavaş." This means "slowly, slowly."

We edged slowly forward, him complaining, me looking at the ever increasing charges on the meter. There was nothing to do but keep my cool, stay calm and centered. (Mustapha, Fred, Antonio).
 
It was then as I glanced out of the side window overlooking the Bosphorus that my eye caught a dolphin breaking surface, its' dorsal fin and tail fully visible. Then another dolphin, and another. They just kept appearing. There must have been fifty or more, obviously feeding on fish. A TV cameraman was trying capture to this sight. I had only my mobile phone to capture this scene, so believe me there are at least three dolphins in this picture. (see video of another view of dolphins click here)

Really there are dolphins in the picture not just TV cameraman  

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

It has been a very busy time over the last few days, with my Stage Hypnosis course being held in Central London, and a trip to Jersey.

It seems very strange that there is possibly twice as much time spent in the preparation of the course, and also the tidying up after the course, manuals, equipment, and other materials.

Still, I had a great time, and will be putting on another course in September 2008, and I know the participants did too, as an email received reveals:-

"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!!!!"

Participants on the Stage Hypnosis course, London 2008


Two Participants keeping warm in trance in an exercise
So now Turkey calls. Well I hope so, as I think there may be some changes to dates. Oh Poo Poo, (read) as I have already got the flight tickets.

It was my birthday, and in the evening my sister-in-law Mee Chee and my niece Tsui Ling paid a visit, and brought me a chocolate cake. No I did not eat the piece that is missing my myself.

                                                         My Chocolate Birthday cake

We later went out for a meal to a new local restaurant called Limeleaves in Norbiton, Kingston upon Thames. The meal based on Thai, Malaysian, Chinese cuisine was good, and the owner attentive.

                 Starter at Limeleaves Restaurant Norbiton.

                                            Main course Limeleaves Restaurant Norbiton.

It was on my return that I decided to open a gift of Thornton's toffee, a wonderful toffee, perhaps the best here in the UK. Oh how I love Thornton's toffee. They have such a wide range of offerings, treacle, nuts, traditional toffees, all so mouth watering, but also fattening and tooth pulling. For a long time I have forgone the pleasure.

It was on my 2nd or 3rd, perhaps 4th piece that I knew the toffee had got its' way, destroying my teeth, as I felt the crown from one of my teeth come off. Oh Poo Poo, but at least I did not swallow it.

Now I have to find a dentist. I don't think those that await me in my courses and on my trips to Jersey and Turkey would appreciate a toothless smile.

At one time I was I suppose a computer expert.

For over thirty years I worked in the computer industry, being employed by computer manufacturers, NCR, Sperry Univac, Texas Instruments and end users, to program computers to do whatever the customers wanted.

As I aged, got older, with my hair going gray, the demands for my expertise and knowledge began to diminish and anyway I had found a new career in being a trainer in NLP, Hypnosis, PhotoReading, Mind Maps and Memory. I left the computer field. It is a young persons profession.

So I know a little about computers, but usually keep my mouth shut, as things go wrong, or people want advice.

I need computers in my work, for communication with Skype and Gizmo, entertainment with Slingbox enabling me to watch British TV no matter where I am in the world, to write my blog, letters and to play music with iTunes in my courses.

I get lots of emails per day, many are spams, unwanted mails which I delete easily and quickly. I am aware of the dangers of virus's, Trojan's, people trying to gain access to my computer and data, so I use software to protect myself.

For many years I have used Norton or Symantec software, paying my annual fees, and upgrading as required.

The latest release I upgraded to is Norton 360, as it was the natural upgrade path offered by Symantec. Oh how I regret it.

Time is important to me as I travel, prepare to start another day in a strange country for training, I have to catch planes, catch trains, keep appointments. I need to download my messages, process them, reply where required, then get on with my day.

It can take me more than half an hour to start my computer with the protection I need against people attacking my computer, half an hour of powering up and down, rebooting the computer, waiting for Norton 360 to load in the correct sequence, for if it loads last in the boot sequence, then Auto Protection facility is off, and nothing I do will switch it on. If Norton 360 loads first in the IPL sequence (Initial Program Load), the I get protection.

I have spoken to Symantec or Norton support, I think based in India, and got no where. Do they understand me?

I paid good money for the software, I want it to work. I cannot sit in an airport lounge reloading my computer, I need to work and catch my plane.

If you have the answer without having to buy more software, please let me know.

I hate computers.

See also blog My Computer Oh Poo Poo, and My Annus Mirabilis.

For nearly a year now I have been putting my thoughts, my ideas, my observations down in this blog. Some of my offerings have been to help readers to understand aspects of items from my courses (click to see Mind Map), other offerings have been how I have seen the world from my eyes (index).

I have had one or two comments of how the blog is received, but I never really knew, is it good, is it bad.

How can you know? I have a counter that tells me how many "hits" per page I get, but is it accurate? I subscribed to another counter which gave details of where people lived, how long they stayed, what operating system they were using, what they had for breakfast. But that hit counter gave me a completely different count.

I gave up the idea of relying on these forms of reports, they are an indication only, a pointer to the real thing. If I took the first counter I was unhappy, but take the second counter, I was "over the moon", extremely happy.

I just did what I enjoyed, I wrote, attached some photographs to describe my world, Phillip Holt's World, knowing that some people would be unhappy with what I wrote, whilst others would be more than happy.

I was not out to, I do not set out to make people upset, what ever they read they will go on their transderivational search, put their cat on the mat, their understanding onto what I am saying.

If I say "car", what do you see in your minds eye? Probably your car and where it is parked right now. But there are hundreds of makes and models of cars, and certainly different parking lots as I have readers from so many different countries. So we all get different messages. Read my blog on George Miller, 7 /- 2.

Yesterday was a down day for me. It was extra hot here in Bukit Mertajam, Malaysia, and it was raining one minute, sunny the next, thunderstorms, the humidity was high along with the temperature, my emails are not working, a modem  had installed was not working, my plans for the day were thrown out due to the arrival of relatives, I had an accident in the hire car. Big oh poo poo day.

I put together a blog on my travel across to the Island of Penang, (Crossing over to Penang Island), just a 15 minute drive away. I was not happy with the result, but it was what I wanted.

This morning I received a comment (click to read) from one of my ex translators, Deniz, who is living and working in Paris.

Her comments made me happy, made me realise that people appreciate what I write.

How often do you give feedback to people? (insert the word positive please).

So to Asu, thank you for the wedding photographsof Murat you sent last night , and your little black dress, you look glamorous.

To Sahika, Mehpare, and Leila, sorry for not getting back to you re dates of courses.

To Rory, yes we will hold the next Stage Hypnosis course in the Royal National Hotel London, this March.

To all I have not mentioned, thank you for you support and feedback. I appreciate it.                                index

In life it is sometimes good to escape, to find some place, some thing which has some serenity, peacefulness, calm.

I used to find that when I was a scuba diver. To float in the warm waters of the Red Sea at 60 feet (20 meters) depth, with the colourful fish of all sizes slowly swimming past, going about their business, and the coral, like an English country garden. click to see pictures 

Another place I find peacefulness is on the Island of Penang in Malaysia, situated in (H)Air Itam, a suburb of Georgetown. This is the Buddhist Goddess of Mercy Temple, also known as Quan Yin, Kuan Yin, Avalokiteshvara, or Kek Lok Si (Hokkien for "Temple of Supreme Bliss").

Malaysia is not just Chinese as my writings may indicate, but is multi cultural, being a people mixture of Malaysian, Chinese, and Indian, along with their own cultures, beliefs, food and religions, Islam, Buddhism, Hindu plus Christian. I think I am a mixture of all, having exposure to all of them. Click here to read the entry Other Places of worship in Bukit Mertajam, Penang.

High on the side of Air Itam are the buildings of the temple. Many years ago I remember only a couple of large buildings, I presume for accommodation, plus the pagoda, turtles and Buddhas. The site has expanded so much with many more large buildings having and being built.

It has been a time of celebration on this trip to Malaysia, Christmas 2007, the New Year of 2008, and a birthday.

My sister-in-law Janet, (her Chinese name Ng Mee Chin), who now lives, with her husband Bing, on the same housing estate as we do, having her 70th birthday on the 1st January 2008.

Janet and Bing have three boys, Kin, Keong and Hun, the first two living in Kuala Lumpa, a 4 - 5 hour drive away, and Hun living in Singapore some 10 hour drive, and it seemed that her family would not be back to celebrate her birthday.

The boys had other ideas, and each traveled back to be with her over this period, Hun with his wife Anna and daughter Anjelica, made it over the Xmas period, and we had a birthday party for Janet. Then Keong turned-up two days ago to spend a few days with her. Driving over night, celebrating the midnight change of year in the car, the oldest son, Kin with his wife Li Hoon and children Ching, Shen and Jyun, arrived to spend a few hours of celebration. We had another party.
 
 Janet's family with birthday cake. 

 Anna and Anjelica minus Hun with another birthday cake   

The Chinese culture holds the family ties very strong, gatherings to be as one group, to be together, which in times gone by was workable, but as the family members begin to spread their wings, moving away from the nest to many far and distant places, for all to be together all at the same time has become a near impossibility, and can lead to disappointments, tension and fallouts.

I remember Christmas's gone by when I was a small boy.

My mother's family were very close, her brother and sister, Frank and Dylis lived next door to each other, and their mother lived with them. The family would get together with my two cousins, Avryl and Glynis, plus for the family meal, my cousin's other Grand Father.

Yet, my father's family were very close too, and they would also gather for Christmas, the four siblings each with their offspring.

Which family should my father and mother spend Christmas with? Problem.

This was solved by my parents by spending alternative Christmas's with each family.

Even as a small boy, I sensed and saw when we spent time with my father's family, my mother would be yearning to be with her family, and when we were with her family, my father being a little out of place with my mother's family. 

Then, one brother or brother-in-law, sister or sister-in-law, had fallen out with another that year, and did not want to be in the same room as each other.

Who should be with whom?

Oh Poo Poo. (click to understand)

It was good to observe Janet's family as a whole family, and to be included into the family celebrations, to have over the festive period other family members, David (Ng Ying Loong), John (Ng Ying Loon), Amy (Ng Mee Ghor) and Thiang (Ng Ying Thiang) popping in and out.

The last time the whole (nearly) of the NG family got together was for Xmas 1999 and the Millenium (2000) in the Palace of the Golden Horses, Kuala Lumpa.

                                                             Ng family Xmas 1999

Some of the family from Malaysia is visiting the UK for the first time.

It was the first time they had experienced the pomp of the British culture, the Changing of the Guard at Buckingham Palace, the Houses of Parliament, and many more sights and sounds. (see previous entry for pictures, click here).

It was the first time they had experienced real cold, "0" degrees C, when as one said, smoke came out of the mouth. The poor things were wrapped-up so much, they could hardly move. Malaysia is permanently hot in the "30"'s, and is very very humid.

We went for a meal in London's China Town. Why after traveling all this way were they taken for a Chinese meal, and not for a typical British meal?



A typical Chinese meal table layout with all the food in the centre.
That got me thinking. What is a typical British meal. Where could I take them for such a meal, and I struggled to find an answer. There are Chinese, Italian, French, Indian, Bangladesh, Japanese, Turkish Kebab, Greek, American style steak houses, hamburger restaurants. But what about British, English, Scottish, Welsh or Irish?

OK we have Fish n Chips, but where are the restaurants? They are far and few between. I could only think of a few, and some of these are perhaps not the standard I would take people to for a special meal.

Where are the roast beef and Yorkshire Pud restaurants?

As I have described in previous blogs, and talked about in my trainings, food in a typical Chinese restaurant is served in the center of the table, and diners will help themselves one mouthfull at a time from the serving tray.



A typical Chinese meal table layout with all the food in the centre.
In a few days I will be off to Malaysia, swopping places with the family visiting the UK. There I[will be eating only Malaysian food, as there are no British restaurants for me to visit. Oh Poo Poo. I better find one here in Kingston upon Thames for them to try and me to enjoy before I leave.

The internet works by people providing services. You need an ISP, (Internet Service Provider) to give you access to the internet from your home, office or hotel via the telephone system, cable or satellite at various speeds. You need people like Skype or MSN to offer VoIP (Voice over the Internet Protocol) for free or cheap telephone calls. You need people, usually the ISP's, to capture your emails, so when you are ready you can retrieve them and download them onto your own computer. You need people to house your web sites, so that when people from anywhere in the world need information from you, at any time of the day, they access the servers (storage computers) of this service. You need people to know where your web sites or domains (the address of the web site e.g. http://www.nlpnow.net), reside or located, where the server is.

All works well, when it works. When it doe not, Oh Poo Poo.

Some years ago, my ISP, BT (British Telecom), changed its' service, which made it impossible for me to do what I wanted, so I changed ISP. I found an internet company Business Serve based in Lancaster in the UK, who could provide all my needs, house my web sites, capture and forward my emails, and look after my domain names. They were good, with very few problems.

In 2003 they took over Legend Communications plc a smaller based ISP in Bradford, and in 2006 became a subsidiary of THUS plc. This year, they became Demon.

Are they getting too big? Are they only interested in money? May be.

This is the second day I have had no access to my web sites, (http://www.c4more.com) nor any emails. I feel naked. I need to arrange my trip to Turkey tomorrow, people have telephoned me asking why I have not answered their emails. I need to talk to someone at Business Serve, Legend Communications, THUS or Demon, all I get is an automated answering service.

Much as I love some of the voices on these automated answering services, I object to have to pay premium rates to listen to them, only to be led round and round in circles.

Mustapha, Antonio, Fred, Hara.

That's better.

So if I have not answered your email, or you cannot get to my web sites, (this blog site is on a different server), I apologize. 

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.

My lifestyle, my work takes me to many countries and places. It is rare that I stay more than two weeks in the same place.

That means different beds.

That means different sleep.

That means my body clock is never the same as I travel around the world.

I learned a trick from an airline pilot I taught on a PhotoReading course to adjust my body clock to the time of my destination, say India, when my body is used to the UK time. Before getting on the aircraft at the departing airport, adjust your watch time to that of the destination airport, and start living that time. At no time try to live your home time. It works.

I also never sightsee, have a day to adjust to the new time zone, I like to arrive, and go straight into the training course, even the same day of arrival. My body, my mind has no chance to complain of time changes.

But I need sleep.

I can often work for 21 days without a break, 9am until 6pm, plus the set-up time in the morning, the computer, aids to help me teach, water, and the strip-down, packing the computer away, tidying-up, participants leave behind them a real mess, moving chairs into the correct places. That expands my day by another couple of hours.

So I am tired, I need sleep.

It is rare that I go out in the evening, as I need rest, my body and especially my brain.

A participant once said to me I am like a theatre. I am the stage manager, I am the producer, I am the writer, I am the director, I am the actor, I am the musician, I am the cleaner, I am the caterer, I am the usher. I do all the jobs.

I need my space, I need rest and sleep.

Some people may find that hard to accept, as I am very alive during my courses, very extrovert, always watching, planning, calibrating with the participants.

I get back to the hotel or place I am staying, and let go. Looking forward to something to eat, and then sleep.

I empty my mind, not dwell on the day, allow the mind to relax, and go to bed, giving my inner mind instructions to wake-up at a specific time, say 7:30am, to prepare for the next day, to give me something special to do for the next day, and to give me a good sleep.

This last one is often difficult to achieve as I sleep is so many different beds.

Beds that are hard ones, soft ones, big ones, small ones, wide ones, narrow ones, short ones, long ones, high ones, low ones, lumpy ones.

Then you get the bed clothes. Hard sheets, soft sheets, duvets, blankets, just bed covers. Pillows, some feathers, some foam, big and small, lumpy, and different heights.

It takes a lot to adjust to the beds, let alone the bedrooms, and the different sounds coming from the next rooms, snoring, banging, flushing of the toilets, running of the showers, parties, and other bedtime games. 

Tonight I pack my bags, as tommorow I move to another bed.

Oh Poo Poo. click to read.

I am in Istanbul this week, giving a NLP Master Practitioner course and three sessions of NLP to participants learning English. This means I am in-front of the participants from 9am till 7pm, with under an hours break for lunch.

This is enough to make anyone tired, but on top of this the weather is so hot, above 30 I believe. Add to this thirteen people in an enclosed space makes it even warmer, too much for the air conditioning to cope well.

I have now resorted to wearing sandals, and yesterday I got myself a pair of shorts, now the participants can see my short, fat, hairy legs. What a sight I must look, but I must keep cool, and none of the women wear socks and have bare legs, therefore I too can have. Equal rights for men.

Last night after finishing with the English language participants at 7pm, I fell into a bean bag seat we have in the classroom, just to rest my legs and aching back. This next thing I remember was suddenly waking-up half an hour later seeing pink every where. Where was I, for a fleeting moment I had no idea where I was. For another fifteen minutes I lay on the floor wrapped in the bean bag, unable to move, the heat had drained my energy.

                                                       The bean Bag in a Pink Room

I am told it is going to reach 40 degrees in the next few days, and I was told the old and those with a heart conditions should stay home.

Oh Poo Poo. (click to read) That's me. I will need to go home, to a cooler UK. If only I could.

Internet access is an issue for me at the moment. It is difficult to find the time or an access point, as I am working, preparing other work, people wanting my time, so my blogs are suffering. Apologies to those who follow daily. I will take time for myself to relax, unwind, rest and get some sleep.

There is a saying in English, "all comes to those that wait."

There is another English saying, "strike whilst the iron is hot."

Here is another one, "if you have a problem sleep on it."

The sayings above will all have their counterparts, or similar sayings in most cultures, as has proven in my trainings throughout the world.

Small world, isn't it?

Many years ago in Carnaby Street, Central London, the birthplace of "mod" fashion of the 1960's, the place to be seen with the rock stars, I came across a shop selling rings, and saw a special ring that caught my eye. For some time I pondered whether to buy the ring, but I never did, even though I returned many times to the shop, the eye stood out, but my hand never went into my pocket to get the money out to buy it.

One day, perhaps two years after initially setting my eye on the ring, I went back to Carnaby Street to buy the ring. The shop had changed. Now it was sports shirts, running shoes, no jewelry.

Oh Poo Poo. click to understand.

I asked in the new shop where had the old shop gone, no one knew. I asked in neighbouring shops, still no-one knew.

Perhaps I become obsessive with what I do. Yes I think I do.

When I want to know something, to learn something, I search for the information, go the best to learn from them, that is why I sought-out, Paul McKenna, Ormond McGill, Joe McMoneagle, Richard bandler, John Grinder, Paul Scheele, Dr Win Wenger, Tony Buzan, Gianni Golfera, Doug O'Brian, et al, then I can teach others.

When I have a problem, I know I can solve it, perhaps using technology, I will search for the solution, and not rest until I resolve it, for example the Dualphone 3088. (click)

I searched all over London for the ring. Nothing.

As my travels took me to many countries, I asked in shops there. A good friend, a fantastic translator in Turkey, Asu joined in the search. Together we would scour the jewelry shops in the back streets of Istanbul only to be offered the Turkish eye. 

Asuman and myself, one evening in Kadikoy, following a strange meal in a square I think named after a duck, came across a shopkeeper that said he could get one, but next week.

I felt good, at last I had it. Or had I? No.

Daily Express my thoughts, my teaching, that is what I have set this blog up for.

To help people, through fears and phobias, gain confidence, to do what they have always wished, to excel, achieve the excellence deserved through NLP, Hypnosis, and all my learning.

I am often asked to help in projects, and often contacted by journalists, reporters, TV programmes for help. So it was a few weeks ago. A certain writer telephoned me for information on NLP, what was it, what can be achieved by NLP. Lots of questions, lasting quite a long time. I spent more time compiling more information for him so he could create his article.

When the publication date arrived, I purchased the paper wondering what was written.

I was not mentioned. Nothing.

Oh Poo Poo.

I attended Harvard Business School some time ago now, and out of the Strategic Negotiation Course, perhaps one of the most intensive I have taken, I learnt about Win Win, Win Loose, Loose Win, in negotiations and sales. To know the BATNA of each other. (more to follow.)

In anything you do, selling, coaching, helping, just being, it is always best to be in a Win Win situation, where both parties are satisfied with the outcome, nobody gains over the other, both win.

If you buy a chocolate cake, and you find that the baker has charged you too much money, obviously the baker is very happy, but are you? Will you go back?

If you go to buy a chocolate cake and you negotiate the price down until the baker has made no profit, has not even made money for the time, effort and knowledge in the process of baking the cake, is the baker likely to sell you another?

I remember a friend of mine Bill telling me a story.

He had a client who supplied and fitted replacement windows.

The client of Bill, had fitted some windows, but one window would not shut properly. The fitters tried adjusting the gearing and fittings, nothing would work. For two days they laboured, with no luck, and the customer began to complain, wanting their money back because of bad workmanship.

Bill was called in, and went to the site, looked at the window, took a small hammer from his inside pocket, and tapped the window.

The window closed.

A week later after submitting his invoice, Bill was contacted by the client who complained about the amount of Bill's charge £500.00.

      "How can this be so much as all you did was tap the window?" the client complained.

      "Simple. For tapping the window I charged £1.00. Knowing where to tap the window is £499.00." Bill replied.

Every thing we do has worth. I will not buy the newspaper again.

But there again I am happy, it has given myself something to write about in my blog and keep my mission to Daily Express my views, and I helped someone.

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.

But where was my bread roll? Perhaps they know I should be on a diet, as I never got a bread roll.

The flight was a little bumpy, as there was a lot of cloud coverage, hopefully delivering much needed rain to the land below. The film was The Queen, which I had never seen, so I relaxed for once.

At Heathrow, we had to wait some time to reach the docking area, but I do not worry as I can watch the busiest working international airport in the world, aircraft coming and going, flashing lights, the lights of the taxi ways.

Passing through passport control is a breeze now, as I use the IRIS system. By having the iris of your eyes captured, the uniqueness individual can be recorded by the Immigration Service, along with passport details, so all one has to do is look into a mirror, and it will recognise who you are and you are processed and though, with no waiting.

My luggage has a High Priority tag on it, a privilege of being a Gold Elite Smiles and Miles frequent flyer, but why is it that it is the last bag to emerge.

Keep state Phillip, keep calm, relax, stop that voice in my head complaining, just watch the other passengers pushing forward as they watch the bags glide past them on the carousel.

I will have to do this all over again in two days for my trip to India.

Oh the joys of flying.

Today is the last day of a seven day NLP Practitioner course here in Istanbul. Tomorrow I will deliver a one day Mind Map course and continue teaching the English with NLP course participants skills that will enhance their learning experience, then catch the last flight back to the UK on Turkish Airlines. I am going to look forward to their food again. I think not.

It has been a tiring time here, giving two courses a day, the NLP Practitioner and taking three sessions of English with NLP, ten hours a day, with all the difficulties training brings with it, and I have not been sleeping well.

For the last few nights I have been sharing my bed. Not bad I may hear people say, at least you are not alone.

Yes I have not been alone. But why do they insist on waking me up at 4am (four in the morning), when I should be at my deepest sleep, when my brain learns, when the plasticity of the brain happens?

Why at 4am to they get hungry, and want me to feed them?

At 4 o'clock, the mosquitoes come out and buzz my ears. My subconscious mind is waiting, listening for them and when it hears them, it shouts to my conscious that is gracefully sleep :- 
        
                      "Danger, you are being attacked, wake-up, wake-up."

So far they have not had their breakfast from me.

I am going to look forward to my bed in the UK, where there are no mosquitoes.

But I will have only two nights rest, as I fly off to Bangalore in India (click to visit site) to deliver a PhotoReading course to about fifty participants, and I know there are mosquitoes there.

Oh Poo Poo.

Does anyone know why they attack at 4am? Comments please.

The mosquito, I hate them.

Why is it that such a small creature can keep a big thing like me awake at night.

I buzzes in the ear in the small hours of the night.

The first thing I do is to wrap the blankets or duvet around my head and try and forget the beast.

But then I cannot breathe. It get too hot. I try and keep a small hole a gap so I can breath, but it does not work for long, and my ears and face become open to attack as the coverings drop away.

In my slumber I hear the mosquito attacking again, going for the ear as the buzzing gets loader, and I counter attack, with a swipe of the hand on my ear I wake myself up again. The mosquito must have been ready and dodged my attack, as I never kill it.

I get up, put the light on, and search the walls and ceiling, as after a counter attack they withdraw to a safe distance, watching and waiting.

If I am lucky I may see the mosquito on the wall, waiting for the next opportunity to get me. If I do, I get a towel, and with all my might, hit it. If there is no blood, I know it has not had me for dinner.

More often than not I fail to see it.

That is when I resort to germ warfare. I get the tin of mosquito killer. I spray it around the bedroom, under the bed, behind the wardrobe, on the curtains.

I'll get it.

The trouble is, I might have killed the mosquito, but now the bedroom is so full of chemicals, I can not sleep.

That is what happened last night. I am so tired, and I start another eight days of training.

Oh poo poo. (click)

This index is an ongoing project that will last me a life-time.

A
Alexander, Graham                  1
Alma, Desa Palma               1

The trip back to the UK has been taken up by sorting business out, the bank, paying bills, organising future dates, tax affairs, and visas.

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?

Waterloo Station's main entrance not usually seen.


Trains waiting to depart at Waterloo Station.

I think not. I think my map of my territory is OK. (see here the Map is not the Territory)

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.

Talk.

Visit I am falling apart article.

Again (see previous blog click here), no matter where I go in the world, things happen. Sometimes good, sometimes bad.

Like we all do, I say words to myself with my internal voice, I talk to myself, especially when things go wrong.

We all do it. 

Sometimes I say the wrong thing to people, I use the wrong words in my courses, especially when I ask a participant, perhaps when hypnotised, to do something and and they do not respond, I say words in my inner mind that I cannot write here. 

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.

Please tell the world, and send me your Oh Poo Poo experiences, either by sending an email jokes@ohpoopoo.com , or by posting in the guestbook, and help others to smile through their Oh Poo Poo's.

Why not have a laugh, brighten up your day and others whilst you are at it, visit the jokes and Ironies page. Build more by sending your jokes to jokes@ohpoopoo.com .