A Cabinet for Trophies

Before the blogsphere rumour mill cartwheels out of control I need to let you know that the recent quiet window was down to a near fatally injured computer – this has now been resuscitated but is suffering some amnesia – I just hope my laptop doesn't take on the persona of that bloke from Memento which I watched on the plane back to India. Can computers get tattoos ??

Anyway back in Bangalore the highlight so far has been the smile on Mrs Reivers face when she was able to locate an old shower curtain to press into action for protecting the small balcony from the monsoonesque squalls. This will clearly be used as yet another justification for her 'Hoarders of the World Unite' campaign against ever throwing anything out as if she needs one!

I am settling (if that is the right word) back into my 'Trophy Husband' role – although the unkind question has been posed – if I was the trophy what was the second prize – some people honestly.

My TH day goes something like this:

0630 – Slip on my exotic tropical robe and prepare Mrs Rs orange juice and tea

0645 – Counsel Mrs R in the 'What Can I Possibly Wear Today' game

0700 – Make Mrs Rs brekkie

0715 – Find Mrs Rs shoes (the maid hides them somewhere new each day)

0720 – Wave off Mrs R then return to bed

0730 – Listen to midnight news on Radio 4 on internet

0800 – Read (at present Arthur and George, and Accordian Crimes with White War next in line)

0900 – Prepare myself for the day and pack gym bag

0930 – Try to slip out of the house without the driver or guard noticing (managed it this morning – sure makes you feel safe) and walk to gym

1000 – Through armed security and metal detectors into Gym in bowels on the Leela Hotel, greeted by 4 different flunkies en route

1015 – 1215 Sweat, grunt, drink lots of water, iced tea, watch strange daytime movies on the treadmill (ie From Hell), cope with the power cuts (lights go out and treadmill keeps going is interesting, as is it going pitch black when half way through final set on the bench press machine today)

1230 – 1430 Slip into my lounging clothes and go to pool, swim, lounge with the other refugees, read, avoid eating anything (they are having a laugh with their poolside prices)

1430 – Walk back to house and have daily conversation with Maid I (Hi Anandi – Hello Sir)

1500 – Light Facebook sparring and decide what to throw together for dinner

1530 – BR extreme cooking accompanied by yesterdays Front Row (R4) and another R4 from internet

1700 – Loiter on veranda in cane chairs aftermuch anti bug spraying, try to avoid brain going to mush by reading, online games, blogging, catch up Star Trek watching on lap top ….

1730 ish – Have daily conversation with Maid II (Going now Sir – Goodnight Anandi)

Sometime later – Telephonic therapy with Mrs Reiver about the injustices of her day

Between 30 and 90 minutes later – Mrs Reiver arrives home and domestic bliss ensues

But enough of this I have a veggie banquet to prepare for guests tonight so will have to park my trophyness on the shelf for today.

Windy Scores on the Doors

Exploring the aforesaid cerebral rotating equipment devices as we cruise at 35000 ft over the middle east on a flight back for quickie Easter R&R in the UK, it is timely to review my performance during Q1 2009. Utilising an established scorecard approach my self evaluation is as follows:




Outstanding
- My reading rate and breadth is growing almost exponentially, and I am even starting to enjoy some Indian books – 2 in the last week White Tiger and In Custody, and I am toying with a Hemingway and Lawrence habit
- My detailed knowledge of Star Trek the Next Generation is approaching geek level
- Celebrity watch – my rugby training is with international players, I now know personally a published author, and have appeared with Mrs Reiver in the gossip column of the local paper

Above
- My word search performance on Facebook is close to 10k (sad or what)
- My cooking has been generally declared as adequate by Mrs Reiver
- I am getting fully moneys-worth from our new gym membership and have achieved new personal bests in sweating
- Our housewarming was a success

On Target
- The essential chocolate and cheese supplies in the fridge have been maintained
- Blogging has been maintained despite a slight drying up of the well of inspiration
- Rugby coaching has developed to include refereeing with hand actions and everything, although whether the Indian kids can differentiate these from Heads and Shoulders Knees and Toes is open to question
- We now have cable TV

Poor
- New headband to cope with gym sweatiness makes me look like a refugee from Fame
- Duetting Hotel California with Mrs Reiver’s Boss at Karaoke was definitely a crime against music
- Being refused entry to new Military based rugby training facility because I was the wrong colour
- Spending the weekend helping Mrs Reiver review architects plans for various new toilets at her work

Below
- Tolerance of Indian traffic, work processes, power cuts, security guards etc etc has left me occasionally howling at the moon and shouting at motorbikes – does pedestrian rage exist??
- Visit to Singapore – plastic, plastic, plastic!
- The Alchemist (play at the Leela) and the Book – schrott, schrott, schrott
- There is nothing worthwile on cable TV
- My knees still not right after the great January rugby de-skinning

So the challenge for Q2 – as the song goes will be to accentuate the positive, eliminate the negative and don’t mess with Mr In-Between. With IPL, T20 World Cup, Lions Tour and possible cooking/guitar lessons, Prince II training, new sports club, refereeing course and junior revier visit to come – all is not lost – as Mrs Reiver is fond of saying ‘80% of success is turning up’. As Brucie would have said ‘Good Game, Good Game’

Whatever happened to those Heros

The (super)hero in India seems to be a particularly cricket based genre anticipated by the before their time Stranglers. The press reaction to Saruv Ganguly being removed from the captaincy of the IPL team the Kolkota Knight Riders by the dastardly Australian Coach John Buchanan was along the lines of 1,000,000,000 people simultaneously booing at a pantomime villain. The subsequent intimate TV interviews with an upset Saruv were reminiscent of Princess Di at her best. Perhaps JB could send an intelligent car to sort out Saruv or even captain the team – I would pay to see that - KITT fielding at extra cover would certainly cover the ground and if the floodlights failed could also help out.

Indian heros seem more along the Elton John stroppy diva type than the original Nietzchian concept of the Ubermensch ie something along the lines of- ‘A combination of ruthless warrior pride and artistic brilliance’ . The artistic brilliance seems lacking – where is C Aubrey Smith (England Cricket Captain and Hollywood Actor) or even Jack Russell (Scruffy England wicket keeper who lived on baked beans and could paint a bit) when you need them.

Of course in India the other real heroes are the kings of Bollywood, and Shahrukh Khan reigns supreme and surprise surprise is the owner of the Kolkata Knight Riders – so Saruv may well get a Bollywood happy ending – coming in to bat astride two magnificent dancing elephants – again I would pay to see that (apart from the airfare to SA).

I notice that my son has (very probably incidentally as philosophy was not a big topic around the breakfast table) declared his Superman ambitions on his Facebook site in which he described himself as ‘A Warrior Poet – A new breed of Athlete’. Whilst ambition is always to be applauded I would suggest that he aims for a more British form of superhero. I encountered a tentative role model whilst walking back from the shops last week – Is it a Bird, Is it a Plan – No its Bicycle Repair man – Watchmen come and have a go if you think you’re hard enough!

Traurig - Fruhstueck mit Jean Luc

Sometimes in a foreign culture you just need the familiar – so it was last Sunday – we needed to be back in Hamburg. Rolls, bread, meat salami, jam, butter, coffee and cheese fitted he bill to a tee. Quite what the juxtaposition of the nexus between series 3 and 4 of Star Trek the Next Generation allied with this meant became clear as we surrendered ourselves to Patrick Stewart. The writers had cunningly provided within the requisite episodes the opportunity for JLP to declame in Shakespearean mode on a multiple basis. Many tears were shed!.

Having a e-life german breakfast with the virtual representatives of the Federation of Planets proved to be remarkably relaxing.

India needs both Data, Worrf and Jordi, and appears desperately in need of real leadership as it moves into its election period with all sorts of factions jockeying for position – Captain JLP come in now and restore some RSC type order.

India needs guidance such as his and is split by factional and internecine tensions – interestingly Ferengi is Indian for foreigner - Cricket is the only glue but not one that binds. One feels the void - a blackhole of leadership.

I fear that Ferengi type trade offs will be the winner – sadly!

Acting Ensign BR

This is the Sound of the Suburbs!

I guess that we live in a sought after suburb of Bangalore – a modern day equivalent of the Surbiton of Tom and Barbara Good. Our own Bengaluran version of the good life is accompanied on a daily basis by a relatively reliable but eclectic version of the dawn chorus. I am not really sensitive to background noise having been brought up directly beside Newcastle Airport runway, but this proceeds regularly in approximately the following chronological order, and is starting to get on my nerves:

Ca 5am: Call to the faithful from the local mosque

Shortly after: Neighbourhood dogs have an early morning discussion which escalates to a vigorous Indian level

Ca 6 am: Strange half guttural squeaky noise (as yet un identified) passes by on the road

6:30 am: Just getting back to sleep when the incredibly annoying alarm from Mrs Reivers Blackberry goes off

7.00 am: In case we might drop back off to sleep builder drop of a load of bricks at the building site next door, throwing them on a brick-by-brick basis into a metal skip to ensure maximum impact

7:05 am onwards - persistent but stupid humming bird repeated tries to get through our bedroom window replicating the sound of a very hestitant hotel waiter trying to deliver room service breakfast

7:15 am: Driver arrives, car roars into life and moves its ritual 2 mtrs down the drive

7:30 ish: Local veg seller with cart passes by with his plaintiff cries of what sound worryingly like ‘she dies’…’’she dies’

7:45 ish; Traffic starts to pick up with ritual honking and major axle groaning as trucks pass over the sleeping policemen just outside the house

8:00 is: Daily election vehicle with unintelligible loudspeaker message passes by – all Indian politics is equally unintelligible to me

9:30 ish: Driver returns from dropping Mrs Reiver at work and starts his regular cricket game with the taller of our security guards up against the garage door – listening to to regular thump of the ball makes me feel just like Steve McQueen in the Great Escape.

So goes the days, and though incredibly comfortable it does sometimes feel like the cooler. Any resemblance of our next door neighbours to Margot and Jerry is of course completely coincidental, and rumours that I have already started two tunnels are completely spurious. To keep the good life vibe going though we do get the odd sacred cow stopping by next door - it all helps the MOOd music I guess

Fantasy Island Revisited

In India especially there is a need to escape from time to time from the dirt, dust, chaos and poverty into a different world. One happy bolt hole is to join the crew of the Enterprise as we work our way through Star Trek the Next Generation on an almost daily basis. As well as providing a virtual escape it continues to act as the source of the most relevant leadership lessons, although I am somewhat concerned that Mrs Reiver is starting to exhibit certain Worf tendencies in parallel with her Jean Luc Picard (with Data undertones) aspirations.
Yesterdays offering (Episode 2, Series 3) concerned a small fantasy house and garden recreated by a pacifist superior being after his planet had been wiped out. I was reminded of this little green oasis amongst the devastation as I walked around to the gym we have recently joined this morning. The gym is part of the Leela Palace Hotel which is a lush verdant 5star luxury blot on the vibrant scurrying chaotic and noisy real Bangalore landscape.
My preference in gyms is at the grunt and sweat end of the spectrum – exemplified by Daves Gym in Northwich – no frills, as many machines as possible in one room, equal parts sweat, chemical cleaner and testosterone in the air – one small dodgy shower as the only facilities - £2.50 a session. The Leela is a bit different and more expensive – there is a gadgee just to help you get changed who hangs up your shirt and trousers, and then post exercise puts your sweaty clothes in a little plastic bag – just a bit too ‘Suits You Sir’ for my liking. Then there are the towels and the water – they must have got a job lot as everywhere you turn you are being offered both.
The juxtaposition with real life becomes even clearer when you walk down to the pool and notice the there is only some palm trees and cunning green mesh which separates the poolside from the balconies of the cheek by jowel flats alongside with their balcony washing lines to the fore – one can only hope that the force field continues to keep reality at bay.
To continue the surreal feel after splashing about a bit in support of my delusional ideas of sometime doing a triathlon, I was reading quietly (2 ½ Pillars of Wisdom – v funny – recommended) when I noticed that a middle aged white lady was about to go into the pool. Nothing untoward – but then she put on trainers and gloves as she got in??! – One can only assume she was an American!
So I will continue my fantastical life in Bangalore renewed by the thought that “Fantasy is an exercise bicycle for the mind. It might not take you anywhere, but it tones up the muscles that can. Of course, I could be wrong.” (Terry Pratchett), and of course wait for…the Plane boss the Plane.

Eine Bibliotekwuste - Traurig!

Mrs Reiver virtually grew up in the public libraries of Manchester and so the complete lack of lending libraries in Bangalore has come as a big shock to the system. The compensation for this is that books are relatively cheap here – although that is often reflected in the printing standards – I had to prise apart my copy of (modern classic???) The Alchemist page by page – and wished I hadn’t bothered – new age twaddle of the worst sort. Anyway –in an effort to recreate a familiar atmosphere I decided to sort out the books in our library.

Stage 1 was the planar random tessillation by functional category approach as illustrated, but once I got past this we ended up with 15 sections as listed below. What can we learn from this ?

Category No
Literature 78
Popular Fiction 64
German 52
Cooking 50
Sci Fi/Fantasy 49
Business 47
Reference 45
Chick Lit 32
Popular Science, Philosophy, Economics 32
Poetry 31
India 29
Humour 28
Travel Guides 28
Childrens 26
History - Biography 20
Total 611

Despite the large number of cookbooks I will still insist in doing off piste cooking?

We love Hamburg - 9 of the guides were for there

Or more practically there are perhaps some new publishing niches which could potentially get cross segment appeal.

The german cookbook based on the adventures travel writer who was kidnapped by aliens and travelled in time (working title ‘A Brief History of Currywurst’) perhaps.

A travel guide to India delivered entirely in limericks, example:

There was a young man from Bombay
Who tried to explain he was gay
The Babus got flustered
Indignance was mustered
Forms stamped said impossible today

Or a combination of wild fantasy with business finance – oops I think real life has usurped fiction there!

And what is currently top of our local best seller list – it is the phenomenal publishing sensation that is ‘The Karnataka Shops and Commercial Establishments Act (1961) & Rules (1963) – with Notifications and Caselaws’ a real page turner – no further evidence is needed that one has to make ones own entertainment here.