Its was certainly windy on the promenade in the run-up to Xmas in the English seaside town of Brighton.
Was it snow for Xmas?
I needed to visit Brighton two days before Christmas day, and decided to walk along the seafront, what a mistake. It appeared to be snow on the promenade, as my photograph shows the woman fighting the wind whilst hanging onto her dog, she seems to be knee deep in snow, but actually it is foam being driven off the waves off the wild sea.
We had been warned of adverse weather conditions, with winds of between 60 – 90 mph (96 – 145 km/h) and heavy rain all over the UK.
Heavy seas in Brighton
The waves lashed the pebbled beach and the high wind blew the white crests into the foam, which mixed with the rain flew parallel onto land, stinging the face, and inhibiting any forward flight the seagulls were trying to make.
I was drenched from head to foot within seconds, and at times found it difficult to keep my footing.
The height of the storm on Brighton beach (UK)
I only spent a short time on the seafront being quickly soaked to the skin and a train journey to take back to home.
With warnings of possible transport delays due to the severe weather, trees being uprooted, lorries being blown over, and changing trains at London’s Clapham Junction, I was not surprised to hear that my train had been cancelled back to Norbiton. Little did I know the cause was a bus having its roof sliced off as it went under the low railway bridge at Norbiton Station, which resulted in many roads in the vicinity being closed. This meant a long walk around back streets, in more driving rain, by-passing the wreck of the bus.
Now I am in my warm home as the storm rages outside, and the storms are predicted to continue into Christmas Eve. I will not venture out.
Good job I have cooked enough food to keep me fed over the Xmas period.
At Norbiton railway station near Kingston upon Thames, the road infront of the station towards Kingston Hospital, passes under the rail track, and there is a height restriction.
Unfortunately, the driver of this bus did not realise, and thus lost the roof.
NLP Coaching participants with Certificates in Italy, Renata Laria, Andrea Gervasini, Franco Di Gilio, Flor Fernandez e Monica, Alessandro Orlando, Claudia Sabatini, Cotardo Giulia, Valeria Sturniolo , Phillip Holt, Marcello Buglione — at Hotel Residence Golf Milano
Life is a journey, and from beginning to end, with many tours to places we never knew about or visited before, we will have many experiences, meet many people, visit many places, some are great, some are bad, and from this journey and side tours, we can learn.
As I travel the world, to many different places, I am being exposed to different cultures, different food, different languages, and in my later years I have endeavoured to learn from these experiences, unlike the younger me who thought he knew everything.
As a younger me, I despised the get rich quickly tour guides who touted on street corners, at tourist attractions, in airport or in hotels, offering their services for a fee to tell you about what I presupposed I already knew. Why should I pay for these leeches when I could walk around myself and find out?
My long lost daughter, Vanessa came to stay with us in our home in Kingston upon Thames, and it was decide that we should go into central London to see the tourist attractions, Big Ben, The Tower of London, Tower Bridge, St. Paul’s Cathedral etc. I knew these places, I had lived and worked in London for over twenty years, why should not I be the guide?
Instead of being the tour guide, we decided that we should take one of the city tour buses.
It was just like when I recently joined an Official Tour Guide of my home town of Kingston upon Thames, a town’s history I had researched, a town I had lived in for many years. I soon realised how much I did not know, there was so much missing information in my knowledge, knowledge that I would need to expand upon and enhance.
So it was in London with my daughter, I learnt so much, little pieces of information adding to my knowledge base, which only got me more interested and intrigued, to go back and research for more knowledge.
When I have time now, which is not very often visiting new or old places, I will often join an official tour, to get to know the basic information of the area, then if I wish, I will revisit where I have been taken to, to discover more, to chunk down, I will buy books, ask questions, just to enhance my knowledge.
And so it was some many months ago, I was invited to give a group of Italian people a range of courses so that they can become coaches, people who can help others enhance their lives.
It was a journey of discovery for them and for me, because I was to be their guide through a learning process, and for them to visit places and knowledge they had not been before, and I had to go there too, and I would be learning too, taking a journey to places inside ourselves often.
To go on a journey within ourselves, our beliefs, our understanding of the world we live in, we might find ourselves challenged as our knowledge as we knew it will have been contradicted.
Were we right, or, is the rest of the world right? Who knows?
It was on this journey with the Italian Coaching participants, that many beliefs were challenged, and if the individuals so wished, changed. It was their willingness to explore new places, revisit places and reevaluate their previous beliefs and knowledge and make changes that made this journey together so enjoyable.
You now have new possibilities or strategies within, use them wisely, and help others on their journey through life.
The truth is out there for us to be guided through our journey, but which is right or wrong only your heart and further knowledge will help.
“Wait your turn”, or “First come, first served“, “Respect your elders“, “Do what you are told“, were instilled in me from the day I was born, British sayings that have guided me through my life, are now pulling at my heart strings as I continue to travel, not only the world, but the British Isles.
If two people stand behind another person in Britain, you can be sure, others will join the queue. They will not perhaps know what they are waiting for, but but they will form an orderly queue.
As a small boy, I remember catching the bus to visit my Grandmother or go shopping, and when we arrived at the bus stop, we would mentally work out how many people had arrived before us, and as more people arrived, who was the person who had arrived immediately after us and the sequence of people arriving after them. We were forming a queue, a sequence of order of those who arrived first would get on the bus first, followed by the next person, and so on and so forth.
In the shop, we knew who was before us and who had arrived after us, and thus we had order, “first come, first served“, and if the shop assistant went to serve a customer out of order, the customer would say, “No, I think that person was before me“.
We had respect for others, we had order, we knew our place, we knew the rules, written and unwritten, we knew we must “wait your turn” rule.
At school, queuing was further instilled in us, as before classes we would be required to stand in an orderly line, a queue, not saying a word. Sometimes this queue was further defined by height, or alphabetically by family name or by the sequence in which we sat in the classroom, those sitting at the back would be first in the queue and those sitting at the front of the classroom would be last in the queue.
Large Queue outside EuroRail, London
For my non British readers you can see this in action when watching the tennis on your TV of Wimbledon, where people will queue to buy tickets, and these queues are very long, or when there is a sale at a shop like Harrods in London, or the launch of a new product like the Apple iPhone, people will start queuing days before the start of the sale, bringing along beds and blankets to sleep and keep warm.
These queuers will be allowed to leave the queue by others, and, return without any problems or queries, just by saying, “Can you save my place please?“
My first shock to the system, my first challenge to my up-bringing and my beliefs happened in the 1980’s when I worked in Saudi Arabia as the Software Manager for the Texas Instruments distributor, Saudi Computer Services. I had been sent to the capital, Riyadh, to install a new client’s computer system, a task I had done many times, flying from the Red Sea town of Jeddah into the middle of the country where Riyadh is located.
My flights had been arranged, and upon completion of the job, I went to catch my return leg back to Jeddah early, as I had completed the installation ahead of schedule. I went to book-in, only to be told that the flight had been cancelled due to a sand storm and I had been placed on “standby” for the next available flight, and that I should join the queue at the standby desk.
With some fellow standby queuers, all Western Ex-Patriates, we talked and laughed as we waited for the next available seatings.
An announcement was made in Arabic, and within seconds from being first in the queue, we found ourselves at the back of the queue, with hundred of shouting, arms waving men in their white thobes and keffiyeh head dress.
Then they were gone, we found ourselves back at the front of the queue, but all spare seats had been taken.
This process continued, at one time we were at the front of the queue, only to find ourselves at the back following an announcement we did not understand, and any available seats were quickly allocated to those pushing to the front of the queue. We were only saved by a kind Saudia Airlines employee taking pity upon us.
The feeling of despair, the feeling of disbelief, the feeling of not fair play, something we say in British colloquialism when people do not play by the rules is “it’s not cricket“, still stays with me today.
I am experiencing this feeling more and more in the UK as more and more visitors and immigrants descend upon the small and overcrowded islands, and especially in London.
Gone are the orderly queues on the Waterloo and City underground line, (The Drain), the two station tube line, linking Waterloo mainline train station to the City of London banking area, where city centre office workers, would each morning and evening, “wait their turn” to board the over crowded trains, often missing several trains until they reached the front of the queue.
Gone are the orderly queues at bus stops.
Gone are the “first come, first served” rules in shops, restaurants and bars, as the shop assistants and waiters are often non British and do not have any concept of British cultural rules, and serve those with the loudest voice, the highest valued bank note, or the person that catches their eye.
My blood boils when waiting for a bus, especially at London Heathrow Airport after a long flight, where workers are more often than not from ethnic minority backgrounds, especially from the Indian subcontinent, where “Wait your turn”, or “First come, first served” appears does not exist in their culture.
More often of not I have just missed a bus and thus first in the queue with my suitcase for the next one, only to find when the bus arrives I am last on the bus with no seats left.
At the luggage carrousels in airport baggage halls, I am often one of the first to arrive to claim my suitcase as I can bye-pass the often long immigration queues with my biometric passport. At the carrousel, as at all airports, there is a distinctive yellow line which states, “Stand behind the line“. I follow this rule, and stand there like a statue or a soldier on guard, only to find myself soon unable to see the conveyer belt and the suitcases gliding past, as I am pushed to the back as others do not follow the rules and do what they are told, to “Stand behind the line“.
On a recent short flight from Kuala Lumpur to Penang, I resisted the need to get on the aircraft first, because as soon as the announcement was made that the flight was ready for boarding, and that we would be boarding by seat numbers, passengers raced to the departure gate, disregarding the request that only the few backseat passengers, rows 55 – 60 go forward.
For goodness sake, the plane will not leave without us.
I waited my turn and boarded the plane to take my allocated seat 6F, a window seat I had booked the day before and printed on my ticket. When I got to row 6, my seat was taken by an Indian looking young man. I politely asked him what was his ticketed seat number which turned-out to be 6D, the aisle seat. Not to cause a fuss and ask the gentleman sitting in the middle seat, 6E, to move so we could swop seats, I smiled and said I would take the aisle seat.
The air steward hearing what was happening and to my compromise to allow the person to occupy my seat, and yes I prefer the window seat, gave me a knowing smile and nod.
We were ready for taxiing out to the runway, and the announcement was made in two languages to make sure the seats were upright, tray tables stowed away, seat belts fastened, all electronic devices switched off and phone set to flight mode.
At this point, the Indian looking guy, started making a telephone call, and continued as we were pulling onto the runway to take-off. Faces of people turned to him in disbelief, but he continued, so I shouted at him to switch it off. He did.
As we were descending into Penang the announcement was made to make sure seat belts were fastened, seat backs were upright, tray tables stowed away and electronical devices switched off. He followed non of these instructions, his tray table still pocking into his stomach.
We landed in Penang, and as soon as we touched down, not even off the runway, he was making another call, again people gave him dirty looks, but this time I stayed calm and said nothing.
As we came to a stop at the gate. He stood-up waiting to get off the aircraft. Why people do it, I will never know, because we have to wait until those nearest the exit door get off first.
As I stood up to get my hand luggage from the overhead compartments, he tried to push me out of the way. I stood my ground and shouted at him to WAIT.
He looked at me sheepishly as said “sorry sir” and sat down. Faces around me gave me a knowing smile.
Being near to the front of the plane, I was one of the first off and thus one of the first at the baggage carrousel, and I dutifully stood waiting behind the yellow line. As the luggage started to arrive more passengers arrived, and I found myself once again with people infront of me, mostly of Indian ethnicity, craning to see if their suitcase was coming.
My suitcase came before those who had pushed infront of me, and it was quite a struggle to extract the suitcase from the carrousel as I had to push and shove my way in and out of the scrummage.
Oh, and the Indian looking guy was on the opposite side of the carrousel having just arrived from disembarking from the aircraft, and his luggage still not delivered.
It is against my nature, my culture not to “Wait my turn”, or accept “First come, first served“, “Respect your elders“, “Do what you are told“, but these days when I sense I could be forced to the back of the queue, it becomes playtime for Phillip. I use my body to stop these “I must be first, I have no regard for others around me” people, from getting infront of me, often forcing them to board last, allowing others to get on or served first, I’m using Phillip’s Sausage to know their every move, and counteracting them, letting them feel the frustration I feel against them.
Home is where you make, it is often a saying I hear. Certainly these insects are making their home here on this plant leaf in Malaysia.
These little insects are building a wonderful structure, attached to the underside of the leaf by a simple single arm.
They have been working tirlessly throughout the heat of the day, whereas I have had to stay indoors in an air-conditioned room to stay comfortable.
The heat and humidity is something that after a time overcomes me, draining me of the ability to think, to function as I would in the temperate climate of the UK.
Perhaps the home we create should be where we are conditioned to physically, and not to live in such a place will put undue strain on our bodies and mind. I do not think these wasp like creatures could survive the freezing cold of a British winter.
Malaysian Wasps August 2013
Perhaps the home we create should be where we are culturally brought-up, with food stuffs we eat, pastimes we pursue, clothes we wear, beliefs we follow. Travelling to other countries other than the UK I see the British still holding onto their traditions, living a certain lifestyle, and for non British moving to seek a new life in the UK, that they too hold onto their traditions, cultures, lifestyles and beliefs.
So is home where you make it?
Is home where you were brought-up?
Is home where your roots are?
As I talk to ex-patriates, people who have moved to other countries, many will want to return to their roots, their home of up-bringing, even after many years of living abroad.
This brings many problems.
Often the ex-patriates have children whilst living in foreign lands, who are raised in the culture and traditions of that foreign land. Some with gain foreign spouses with their traditions and cultures.
In Malaysia and other countries I often visit, I have experienced and seen things which is not the norm in my own country of the UK, that is not in the British culture, or is not contained in my belief system. I have had to learn to accept with an open mind new things presented to me as I travel.
Today I saw what I would have presumed was a grasshopper, but this creature had different markings that I have never seen before.
A new grasshopper for me
I have seen green grasshoppers, light yellow grasshoppers and more, but one with not such a dark brown with white markings.
But then, perhaps I do not know everything about grasshoppers.
I teach in NLP, we only know what we know, or want to know, and that is the world we live in, our belief system. Anything that does not fit into our existing or previous knowledge, learnings, what we have been taught, our understanding of our own small world would be strange, incorrect, and we will distort any new experience to fit into our existing understanding of our world.
Yet, obviously this creature was in existence prior to my seeing it. Just because I was not aware of it does not say it did not not exist.
We should all open our minds up for new possibilities, accept that a belief is just a belief based upon what we have been told by others, and we all have different beliefs.
Which or whose belief is correct?
We will never know until the lights go out.
So until I am told differently, this is a grasshopper.
It is always a pleasure to work with corporate clients, and the staff from Audi Cars here in Gaziantep in Southern Turkey has been no exception.
Audi Cars Gaziantep
Some of the staff from many departments of Acarsan Audiin Gaziantep (Southern Turkey), from sales, marketing, fleet, accounts, attended the first of some courses designed to help in team work, and increase productivity for the company.
Fantastic group of people.
My thanks goes to Mehpare Kileci of Gap Danışmanlık for organising the even and her translation.
It is so empowering to deliver and work in an industry I love, to impart and share my knowledge in a fun and easy to learn way, to shake the hands of participants as they leave with smiles on their faces, knowing in some small way, I may have enriched their world, as well as those they have contact with.
Unlike many parts of the World, the UK(United Kingdom explained) does not have a public holiday on 1st May. We have the first Monday in May as a Bank Holiday.
A Bank Holiday in the UK comes from a time when banks were shut and thus no trading could take place, and today we have eight such days although Northern Ireland has ten. Most notable dates of Bank Holidays are, Christmas Day, Boxing Day, New Years Day and Good Friday.
The town is alive with families having a nice warm summery day out.
Merry May Day Families in Kingston town
Not only are there human families enjoying the glorious weather.
Family of ducks
Geese and family
Bank Holidays have become family days, where people get together, but not for me, I have work to do, because some who know me say that every day is a Bank Holiday for me.
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