It was an honour to be awarded the title of a Freeman of the City of London.
Although the privileges once afforded to those becoming a Freeman, being able to drive sheep not the City of London, being drunk without fear of arrest, and drawing a sword in public, have long gone, I felt proud on the special day.
In the past I have had to admit that there is much missing from my knowledge, my history.
I realised how much is missing from my family history, when after getting together recently with my daughter Vanessa in Southampton, and I was relating what knowledge I had to her, how little I really did know. I had heard stories from my father and mother, uncles and aunties, but this information was limited and nothing had been written down, and now knowing what I do know now about human memory systems, there was much missing.
Visiting so many countries, and listening to their understanding of their history, I realise that it differs from my understanding of the same history from a British point of view. My experience of talking to Gianni Golfera’s Grandfather as a WWII Italian Savoia-Marchetti SM.79 Sparviero (SM.79) bomber pilot and his recollections of fighting the British Hurricane fighter planes, gave a different point of view to my reading of British history of that time.
Having an inquiring mind, trying to understand the background of information, and often asking “why“, I sometimes need and search for information, for example, looking at the history of the WWII British fight plane, the Hurricane and its’ connect to Kingston upon Thames where I have a home.
Part of my research has been through reading, thank goodness I know PhotoReading, part of my research through talking to people, and part of research has been through visiting museums and actual sites the history took place.
My recent interest has taken me to Bletchley Park, north of London, home of and historic site of secret British codebreaking activities during WWII and birthplace of the modern computer, Colosus. This led me to reading many books on the history of Bletchley Park, and to a book by R.V. Jones called Most Secret War. Reading this book led me to wanting to find more about the history of the Cabinet War Rooms, Britain’s secret underground shelter for the War Cabinet and Chiefs of Staff, in Central London.
A tour guide at Bletchley Park when informing us of the work initially undertaken by Polish scientists on the secret encoding of the messages by the Germans and the Enigma Machines, was that once a year a special visit was taken by Polish nationals to the park, and that their guides tell a different story than he does.
Now I have found so much more insight into my own and others history, that I have had to completely rewrite some my understanding of my knowledge, also reaffirming my realisation that we are only told by higher authorities and others what they want us to know.
I also realise that I should have asked my relatives who are now no longer with us more about their history and thus Vanessa’s and mine.
In my previous article, Brooklands, my first visit I wrote about my fathers’ Riley pre-select geared car, and I remembered some old photographs, and I still am a boy racer.
Phillip in the divers seat of the riley with mother standing
The all metal racing car was the real thing to me, modeled on the racing cars of the era.
I loved that car, and still raced it around as I got older, even when I got too big to sit in the seat. I would sit on the back so that I could get my feet onto the peddles, but the center of gravity shifting back, way past the rear wheels, meaning I often found the nose of the car facing up to the sky, and me on the floor.
Great days.
Oh for those who did not believe me, see, I did have curly hair.
Tuesday started off with half my computer keyboard not working, having had the tea spilt over it the previous night.
I could not let this incident distract my trainings, but why not “reframe” it, and use it as a metaphor in the English class. As an international trainer of NLP, I can use my experience to teach a concept via a story to feed the inner mind, the unconscious mind, what you need to know, now, after all the years of experience I find is easy.
I talk about sick dear, and how just one word can affect the way we are, our state, how at a conference, a person stood in for someone who was ill, and how knives, fire and steam came from the participants, but they learnt how to keep state.
I was asked to visit a company in Sisli, on the Western side of the Bosphorus, a computer company which is very proactive on training their staff in communication skills, dealing with clients and staff. The meeting went on longer than we had planned, which meant we missed the ferry back to Kadikoy to conduct the afternoon trance. Upon arrival, I was immediately driven away to another client, one hours drive across Istanbul, in heavy traffic, which seems to be ever presenting traffic jams, a journey taking two hours.
On arrival, it was a joy to meet so many of my previous students, with big smiles on their faces as they greeted me. So many people who know me. Wow.
I know I can do more work with them to help reach the goals, the outcomes they gave me.
The journey back to do the late English class was very tiring, as the countryside drifted past, I am amazed at the amount of new roads new infrastructure there is. New high rise accommodation, flats, apartments, are springing up.
The class starts one hour late, but I am in a good state, so I deliver so much to the participants.
I tell them about the beautiful “female” I saw in Singapore, and the first time my mother met Mee Len, mother never meeting a Chinese person before nor eaten a Chinese meal.
I know that during this session they tried many things, and perhaps liked them.
I added so much to the evening session I was late leaving the office/school, so much so that I missed the last train on the Tunel train, which runs from 7am till 9pm.
I was too tired to think, I needed sleep, rest, but I had to prepare for the next day, iron my shirt and suit, prepare my props to teach Mind Maps and Memory Skills to a major Turkish telecommunication company, and eat a meal.
I hope those who know me realise I am not the Wizard of Oz. I need rest today.
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