High Street Rage

I went shopping briefly after work yesterday; a quick 45 minute dash around some of the shops in Angel before my visit to the beauty salon and some pre-hols maintenance.

It is August. As far as I am aware the majority of British holiday makers take their vacances during the school holidays. So mid July - end August. Others without children perhaps start earlier, say Mid May onwards and the entire holiday period probably stretches until at least mid-September, perhaps later.

Being as I am going on a sailing holiday which I hope will contain at least a few hours of sunshine (although judging from the weather forecast we shall be lucky if we get a day without rain) I will need a bikini or two. I've grown a little since last summer and one of my bikinis no longer fits properly. I decided I could probably do with another one, so I started my search in Accessorize. They had a few bikinis on the sale rail - all size 16 and larger, mostly bottoms. A more thorough search of the shop revealed three styles on a rail at the back, again all 14-16s and no tops. A quick check with a sales assistant confirmed that indeed these were all the swimwear they had on sale.

"We've got the autumn stuff in now" she trilled.

"But it's August. I'm going on holiday. Don't you think people might actually want to buy summer/holiday items when they need them? (i.e. the month they go, not three months before) Not have to make do with the few sizes left in the sale".

"Well, they've been in the sale for a few weeks now, that's all we have left" she replied

So even if I had gone on holiday in July I still would have found the bikinis in the sale. And when I asked her to pass onto her manager that most people perhaps might like to be able to buy things in the season when they need them she responded "complain to customer services then". So I left.

A quick look round the other shops in the area confirmed the same thing: swimwear in the sale, if in the shop at all. No sizes on sale smaller than a 14 - no tops. I wonder if the shops order more bottoms than tops or whether there has been an odd run on people buying tops but not bottoms?

So I shall make do with last years too small bikini and the rest of the time I shall wear pants and shorts. If it is not p***ing with rain...

Communication

I have written before about my problems with Orange and British Gas. Yesterday I encountered some (minor) problems with EDF energy. After some discussion with customer services I hope that they are now sorted, but given that I thought that about British Gas and it took another six months to rectify the problem, I am not holding my breath. I therefore felt for Rachel when I read about her problems regarding her kitchen and judging from her comments box she is not alone.

It seems to me that one of the errors that these companies are making is in a lack of communication. Perhaps in an effort to cut costs or perhaps because they just don't think about it, they fail to communicate accurately and mistakes get repeated ad infinitum. I was expounding this theory to M when we sat down to watch the Apprentice last night whilst eating our supper. Now, I hope that all of those candidates have secure jobs to return to in the event they don't win because quite frankly I would be unwilling to employ any of them based on their performances on the show (which I am aware is edited and produced). As far as I could tell, the candidates basic problem seems to be that they are so obsessed with 'winning' and doing each other down that they seem unable to get on with the task in hand, even going so far as to sabotage their team performance in the hope of getting each other fired. The other main problem seems to come back to communication, or lack of it. Yesterday's show involved taking photographs of people and then selling them said photographs. Hardly a difficult task I would have thought seeing as there seemed to be people queuing up to be snapped. Both teams problems lay in their in-ability to produce the photographs. No-one had designed a fail safe system of recording whose photos were which; instead of helping each other with technical failures there was simply shouting and there seemed to be no communication whatsoever between the front and back line teams.

In short it was a complete shambles and the winning team made less than £200 profit. The losing team made a loss. I am sure that if both teams had focused on getting their job done rather than the fact that one of them would lose their job they would have all turned a far higher profit. Incidentally, if I had been managing either of those teams, I would have ensured that as manager I was the link between the two teams and would have moved people as and when it became clear that there were difficulties, i.e. when production had ground to a halt.

Hospital Tales Part 5 - The Farce Continues

I finally got to speak to the clinic which I was having trouble with earlier in the week and they have received my referral. "You are now on a waiting list" she informed me. "We will write to you to tell you that you are on a waiting list and will be contacted within a maximum of 4 weeks". "So I can't book an appointment now", I queried. "No", she said, speaking slowly as if I were stupid, "You will get a letter in 4 weeks asking you to call to make an appointment. We send out a bundle of letters and then it is first come first served as to the appointments".

So I have waited 2 weeks for the referral whereon I will have to wait another 4 weeks to receive the opportunity to fight to get an appointment on a first come, first served basis from a clinic which will only answer their telephones on Monday, Wednesday and Friday until 4pm, except if you call at lunchtime, when they don't answer them and you get put through to Islington PCT and the line goes dead.

There has to be a better system.

Hospital Tales Part 4

Just when I thought my experiences with the NHS were getting better, this happened.

Referral from my GP to a(nother) clinic. According to the paper she gave me I needed to ring them 2 working days after the referral to make an appointment which would be approximately in 6 weeks time. Instead of being able to ring up each day of the week and arrange an appointment when available, I could only ring on a Monday, Wednesday or Friday, with each day relating to appointments booked for a specific day. I.e. call on Monday for a Thursday or Friday appointment. So far, so good, if a little confusing. I, however, was referred last Tuesday so the next day that they were open to book appointments was the Friday. Which was a bank holiday. Or Monday, which was also a bank holiday. I finally called the following Wednesday where the conversation went along the lines of this:

Me: "I'm calling to make an appointment for XX clinic. My GP referred me last week"
Them: "Date of birth"
Me: "xxx"
Them: "which clinic"
Me: (repeats initial statement)
Them: "what's your name?"
Me: (spells name)
Them: "your date of birth?"
Me: (repeats date of birth, again")
Them: "how do you spell your name?"
Me: (spells name)

Turns out, they couldn't find my referral. "Your GP must not have sent it. Contact them and ask them to fax it, marked urgent". Phone went dead. So I called the GP surgery where I was greeted with a barked "hold the line". A few minutes later I explained the issue. "Date of birth?" she asked... "Yes, you were referred to XX clinic last Monday" she confirmed, confidently. "Well", I responded, "they don't seem to have any record of it being received. Can you re-fax it today, marked urgent?", I pleaded. "OK" she snapped and again the line went dead. So, as I have to wait 2 (clear) working days, that will bring me to Monday, two weeks after the initial referral.

Strikes me that Islington PCT could do with an integrated computer system...

Hospital Tales Part 3

Back to the hospital for another scan today. Same hospital; different department. Last week I wrote about the problems with administration which I encountered. Over the weekend I went for a drink with some friends, a group which included one who works for the NHS. "How do you find the administration in your hospital?" I asked her, explaining that at the hospital I go to I had found it lacking. "Appalling" she replied cheerfully, considering the wine list in the bar that we were in. "Last week", she continued, pointing to a bottle, "we had a live donor op. You know, kidney passing from mother to daughter, or whatever". I nodded, both in agreement to the wine and also concurring that I was following her story. "Well, the donor was on the table in theatre when suddenly someone realised that the donee had a temperature and was still on the ward". She ordered the bottle and the bar man handed me the glasses, "someone had forgotten to write it down and pass on the message". We went to sit down and she ended, "still, at least they hadn't started cutting" and poured the wine.

So it was with some surprise that I found myself back on the street a mere 10 minutes after the scheduled time for my scan. Granted, the department was much larger than the one I visited last week, being an entire outpatients department rather than simply a clinic, with a much more ordered reception desk, queuing system, note system. In fact, the whole system seemed far superior to that of the clinic upstairs, perhaps simply because these staff appeared familiar with theirs and knew (or appeared at the very least) what was going on. Anyway, I arrived with ten minutes to spare, presented my letter, my notes were found and details checked. I had just sat down to read whilst waiting and I was called in. It was over and done with in ten minutes and I was free to leave. I was so surprised I didn't know what to do with myself.

So I called a friend who works from home and went to his house and am sitting drinking tea, playing with his cats and waiting for him to finish work so we can go and watch another friend's band this evening.

More hospital tales

Arrived at hospital for appointment at 10am at 9.55am. Waited at reception counter for a few minutes until it was my turn. There were several administration staff at the desk, all equally incompetent, rifling pieces of paper attempting to look efficient but becoming increasingly flustered. "I've got an appointment at 10am" I said and she finally found my name of a piece of paper and started filling in the form. "Can I check your details?" she asked and proceeded to reel off my personal information, all correct. Until she reached my GP surgery, which was the old one. "Sorry", I said, "that's the old one. I wrote a letter to you to tell you the new details". She looked annoyed "I wasn't here that day" she replied, although I had said nothing about when I sent the letter. I gave her the new details although given the early time of day and my tired state I accidentally said "x x surgery" instead of health centre. I was instructed to take a seat and wait for my appointment so I asked how long the wait would be. Obviously I wasn't expecting a precise time but I was a little surprised to find that they were still on the 9.05am appointments and it was now 10.10am. I called work, explained the situation and sat down to read my book. After a few minutes the administrator accusingly called me to the desk: "You said x x surgery but it is actually x x health center. I have found it now" (implication that this was my fault although I had attempted to update records via letter), "we have updated your hospital record but not this scan clinic record. I have updated it now for you". Which is presumably why my GP never received the results of the last scan and why, after the scan which finally happened at 11am or so, I asked the consultant if I could take the letter to my GP myself. He agreed. Presumably he too has witnessed the inefficiency of the administrators.

NHS saga

At 11pm on Tuesday evening I went to take my pill and realised it was the last in the packet. Unconcerned I went to get a new packet from the first-aid box and discovered that somehow I had managed to forget to get some more. Cue mild panic that I had 24 hours to procure some more. A relatively easy task one might think; I live in London, how hard can it be.

Pills do not qualify as an emergency so I couldn't call my doctor at 9am and make a same-day appointment. I am prepared for that though and for the past 2 years have instead made an appointment with the family planning clinic nearest my work. If they don't have any appointments left for the same day there is usually a clinic one can turn up to and wait. Not ideal but acceptable if one plans ahead and doesn't need same day treatment. I.e. Becomes an issue if you have an 'emergency' and need emergency contraception. I called as soon as I got to work and finally reached a recorded message indicating that they were closed until 12pm. At 12pm I started calling, going round and round their system until it finally kicked me out and then wouldn't let me back in, stating "this line is busy" ad infinitum. At 1.45pm I finally managed to speak to someone. They had no appointments (for that day or the next). Clinic times had also changed. They now closed at 3.30pm. Definitely not ideal. I couldn't leave work at 3pm at no notice. "What do you suggest I do" I enquired, "I really need to see someone today". "Call X in X" she replied and hung up. Called X at X clinic. Yes, they did have a clinic until 6.30pm every day. "Excellent", I said, "so as long as I get there before 6.30, I can see someone?". "No" came the answer " if you're not here before 5.30pm at the latest, we will have filled our quota and you won't be able to be seen". At least that one was open - I tried 3 others to be told the earliest I could be seen was next Tuesday.

Boss allowed me to leave at 5pm so I raced to get there before their seemingly random deadline, running down the road looking at a map hastily printed from google. I made it at 5.32pm only to hear the administrator attempting to turn away the girl at the desk in front of me. I explained the whole saga, the other girl explained hers. Administrator claimed that "on health and safety grounds we can only allow a certain number of people on the list" and "don't you know it's the end of the financial year". We negotiated for a while; in the end I found out that the whole of the area had been on a training course all morning and that all family planning clinics were closed that morning in the borough. Eventually she consented to letting us both wait and if the doctor (the only one on duty) had finished the list before the end of the clinic, she would see us. The administrator herself explained that she should have left 15 minutes earlier and left the clinic, handing me a printed piece of paper stating clinic hours - 5pm to 6.30pm. Presumably she was simply following instructions:she then said she was locking the doors on her way out so that no-one else could get in. And with that, she left. Nothing I could do but sit and wait and sit and hope. With growing frustration I watched the doctor accompany each patient back out into the reception area and place their notes in a basket and collect the next set of notes - a three or four minute time delay accompanying each patient. To the doctor's credit she did see me, eventually, at 6.40pm. She was so rushed she barely listened to any of the questions she fired off in rapid succession. 3 minutes later I had my pills and was back in reception, mission accomplished, finally.

In this specific instance it was in many ways my own fault for my mistake in not realising I needed to get more pills ahead of time, but it raised significant issues in my mind. The majority of the administrators I spoke to were more concerned with quotas, targets and so on than helping patients. No-one volunteered more information until I asked for it. The doctor seemed to be wasting time between each patient by having to collect and return each set of notes herself. There surely must be a more effective system. All of the clinics I spoke to seemed surprised I couldn't attend daytime clinics. I work 9.30 until whenever every day of the week. Thankfully my boss is fairly understanding about personal issues and generally lets me leave on time if I really need to and there is nothing of vital importance happening. The majority of days I wouldn't be able to leave on time as a matter of course. This is unfair on those who are attempting to be responsible by having a job and using effective contraception. If I had needed the morning after pill, such reduced options would mean I would in all probability have been forced to purchase it at a chemist for £25 when I should be able and am entitled to get it free. I could envisage a situation where someone with more dubious morals who found it hard to schedule an appointment for contraception would be tempted to leave it to chance, taking the morning after pill (if they could get it) or even simply arranging an abortion (which seems even easier to get than simply trying to arrange contraception in the first place). Surely we do not want our system to punish those trying to be responsible and to put quotas and targets ahead of patient care and safety? I am pleased people are being sent on training courses, but surely staggering them is a more viable option than crippling the system by closing everything on the same day. Until there is improvement in basic services, I cannot see confidence in the NHS improving.

Seven things you might not know about me...

... and probably wished you still didn't know. Yes, I have been tagged by the lovely Echo at Diary of a Young Horse. Actually, Echo is the horse and Sz is the writer/rider/trainer but I shall let that slide for now.

So, here goes:

7 facts people might not know about me.

1. I have never had a pet. Unless you count the goldfish I won at a fair in California and who died after 2 weeks (not my fault). I am fond of both dogs and cats although I believe London (flat size, main roads, long hours) to be an unsuitable place to start. We have an adopted cat which comes to visit every now and then (with his owners consent - we are not allowed to feed him). That will have to be enough for me, for now.

2. We live fairly near the Arsenal stadium. I despise it when there is a match on as all the supporters are loud and miserable looking and seem unable to pass by places without dropping large volumes of rubbish. The tube station is practically afloat with beer cans, sandwich packets and discarded newspapers by the time kick-off occurs. There is however, a man who sells the sort of sweets usually found in pick&mix at 2 bags for £1. Every time there is a game and I am in the area I always go and buy the same sweets from the sweetie-man (fizzy cola bottles and white choc buttons with hundreds and thousands - these are the combination of sweets I have bought since I was a little girl with pocket money from Granny and I see no reason to change my selection now).

3. I read lots of blogs about parenting - it started with Alpha Mummy and Wife in the North. Now it has been extended to The Potty Diaries, A Way Ahead and Bub and Pie. I also read Petite Anglais which is, strictly speaking, a parenting blog but it has such wide readership that most would conclude that it is further reaching than it's main subject. It does not, for example, have posts entitled "Done a Poo, Mummy!" which some of the others have been known to have (although to be fair to the author of that post, the subject is actually worthy of consideration as it brings up the issue of how much children are influenced by what they watch and therefore what they should be allowed to watch and at what age). Actually, even Petite has it's fair share of what I would term 'I'm only interesting to read because I write about my child' syndrome.

Why do I read them? Well, information, I suppose. I like to be informed about things. Parenting blogs are not the only blogs I read. I would like to have children at some point and I find it is something that one really knows little about until it actually happens. It also makes me think how lucky I am not have children at the moment and how I would need to be very sure and financially settled before even thinking about having a family.

4. When I moved house I moved every copy of Vogue that I have bought in the past four years to my new house. They filled a dustbin (which is where, my friends who helped us move, suggested they should remain) and are currently performing an excellent duty as posing as a side table in the sitting room. And yes, I do re-read them. Occasionally.

5. I dislike spiders. Years of being rescued by my father have given way to being able to capture the silly things in a glass with a postcard and deposit them outside. And the funny thing is, abstractly, I rather like spiders. Charlotte for example has done wonders for the PR of spiders. It's just in reality, they appear too suddenly and move too quickly and there doesn't appear to be a surface or plane they cannot or won't walk on. They are also prone to leaping off things near my head and dangling there looking menacing.

6. I am a fan of free-cycle. I have also just discovered e-bay. Now I need to de-clutter and give away or sell on an equal number of things to the new additions. It would be fair to say that I have hording tendencies. It would also be fair to say that our house has limited (i.e. none whatsoever) storage. These two facts do not make a happy situation. We do, at times, look like we live in a souk. In fact, one friend on coming to our flat peered round the folding doors which separate our bedroom from the sitting room and asked "is that a room, or the world's largest cupboard?".

7. I carry around far too much stuff in my handbag on a daily basis. Today, whilst looking for my phone (which incidentally turned out not to be in there) I found the following: a novel, my diary, address book, notebook, pen, A-Z, make-up bag, small bag with tablets and so on, purse, hand cream, full sized bottle of perfume (4/5 empty) miscellaneous toiletries, a small wrapped Easter egg, a packet of hairgrips (the card was empty and all the hairgrips were at the bottom), about £2 in very small loose change, rail card, oyster card, i-pod, work keys, house keys, a tea-bag (un-used and wrapped), a conker, 2 lip-balms, 2 lip-glosses, umbrella, packet of nail files. That is a lot of stuff to replace if I lose my handbag. And I dread to think what it is doing to my back.

And in return, I tag: James at the Ink, Cumbrian and Admin Girl.

Chivalry

Chivalry. Something which I think (some) men are lacking and to which, whenever I bring it up at dinner parties and the like, my male friends argue, I cannot have if women are to be equal to men. But I do not want women to be equal to men. We are very different and I wish to celebrate our differences. I see no reason why two people doing the same job should not be remunerated equally and I see no reason why (fatherhood excepted) women cannot do the same jobs as men. But jobs are not what define us, either as women, men or as equals. Who we are is what defines us, and, taken to the extreme, I accept that this can include career choices but it need not.

I am in favour of manners. Of treating each other politely, as we would expect to be treated ourselves. I am in favour of self-respect, of ourselves and of others. Manners, I would argue, extend to letting a woman sit down on the tube or bus. But manners also indicate that a woman sitting should not take precedent over an elderly or disabled or pregnant person. It is all about relativity. Manners need to be modern too. One of my male friends is so well mannered that he will stand when I leave the table. I think that this is lovely but it is not something which I expect any other males to do and I do not think any the less of them if they don't. I appreciate it when men steer clear of dominating the conversation but I do not hold it against those who engage in long discussions relating to the finer points of the beautiful game. What I cannot bear are people who behave entirely selfishly. Queue jumpers (such as the man in Cafe Nero this morning who slid into the queue in front of me, deliberately), people who talk inappropriately loudly or who break rules (such as no phones in the silent carriage - after all, there are plenty of other places on the train to stand and shout), people who don't say thank you.

This month's Vogue has an interesting article about Chivalry being dead. The writer suggests that perhaps modern men are no longer taught by their parents that they should walk on the outside of the road to prevent the female from being splashed with mud or water. I am not a man, but I clearly remember my father coming to walk me home from Brownies and always walking on the outside and explaining why, when I asked why he changed sides when we crossed the road. I thought it was such a lovely thing for him to do, even as a 7 year old girl, and when M first walked with me to my house 6 years ago in Exeter, I noticed that he too did the same thing. 6 years into our relationship he probably lets me walk on the outside now and then, but he still opens doors, carries heavy bags, holds my coat (when we are sober) and looks after me. This is not to say that I don't look after him. We share out the housework though, rather than me doing all of it as it might once have been, but we work equally long hours. He does the cooking, I do the washing, and so on. If he is tired or particularly busy, I have been even been known to cook.

I think perhaps chivalry needs updating. It needs to be more equal. It is nice when a man opens the door for us. It is even nicer when we say thank you rather than indicating that we feel he thinks we are too feeble to even open a door. It is only a door and he is being polite, thinking of others. If we all made each other's lives a little easier, the world might be a nicer place.

Teddy Bear Scandal

I can't help but feel that Helena Frith Powell has misjudged this incident somewhat. She starts by referring to Ms Gibbons as "a rather nice lady"; a nice sentiment but given the likelihood of Ms Frith Powell knowing this as a fact, it is perhaps biased. I hope it is true but it is an example of bad reporting. She then compares the issue of the teddy bear's name to Winnie-the-Pooh or Paddington. A rather insensitive comparison to my mind, regardless of the outcome and reaction, we are still discussing religious beliefs. This is not about teddy bear names – it is about perceived intolerance for another religion and ensuing political debate.

There is perhaps a case to be made regarding the right to name your bear what you wish but it should, in my opinion, be saved for another occasion. As for her husband Rupert naming his 45 year old but yet un-named bear Muhammad then that is up to him, but perhaps not something the world needs to know about on her blog which also accompanies serious writing for a variety of daily and weekly newspapers.

The issue here is that Muslims do not allow the name of their prophet Muhammad to be given to inanimate objects or represented in any fashion (hence the outcry over the cartoons and the current outcry over the name of this bear). Part of the Koran is taken by Muslims to mean that Allah cannot be captured in an image by human hand and to attempt such a thing is seen as an insult to Allah. The same belief is applied to the Prophet Muhammad. Children, however, are allowed to be named after Muhammad.

It appears that an English teacher in charge of a class of 7 year olds in Sudan allowed the class teddy bear to be called Muhammad. In this instance it has been argued that she allowed the children to vote on a name; children being children named the bear after themselves, of which Muhammad was clearly a popular name and the bear was henceforth referred to by the moniker 'Muhammad'. How the police and government came to be involved is a little unclear, especially it is said that neither the children nor their parents found the name insulting, although it has been reported that it was the school secretary who chose, instead of taking Ms Gibbons aside and saying something along the lines of "I know you might not be aware of this but wouldn't it be better to re-name the bear as that name can cause offence" decided to report Ms Gibbons to the police.

She has, as I'm sure you're aware, been sentenced to 15 days in prison and immediate deportation from Sudan on her release. Some say that she has been treated lightly (given that the other options ranged from a flogging to 6 months in prison); others are appalled at her treatment. There are currently riots and demonstrations in Sudan calling for Ms Gibbons to be, amongst many punishments, shot by firing squad. All over a (presumed) innocent lapse in judgement in a foreign country.

Now, as a Christian, I am happy with images and inanimate objects being given the name 'Jesus' even if it is usually a temporary measure – i.e . the doll or baby who stands in for the baby Jesus in a nativity play. Just as long as the intention is good and not insulting I do not mind. If someone called their stuff toy devil 'Jesus' as a offensive gesture I might be concerned but I would still hope that the person was misguided and would like to think that as a Christian it is more important to practise forgiveness than it is to dole out punishments. As for imprisoning someone, flogging someone or calling for their execution – those are reactions which befit an actual crime. Ignorance of the law is not an accepted defence but I do think in cases such as this one there does need to be some sort of proven intent. I think Ms Gibbons could perhaps of been more culturally and socially aware but I do not think that she should be punished by imprisonment over what boils down to a cultural misunderstanding. Actually, I don't agree with flogging, execution or corporal punishment in general but I do accept that, rightly or wrongly to my mind, there are countries where these punishments are accepted by society for serious crimes and the people of the society are aware that if they commit a crime then they may be punished in such a fashion. I just don't think that the an offence where no-one else has suffered (and no-one else could even potentially suffer) is a serious crime.

So why have the Sudanese reacted with such virulence to such an incident. I don't think it is simply, as I have read on the BBC forums and other places, that Islam is an old-fashioned style religion where simple misdemeanors are potentially punished by what British citizens would deem barbaric. There is more to it than that I am sure. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I am convinced that this has little do with theology and far more to do with politics.

Heat Magazine

On Tuesday I saw that Heat magazine had included an sticker in the latest edition of their magazine which featured the face of a child: Harvey Price, Katie Price's disabled son, accompanied by the words "Harvey wants to eat me".

I was appalled that a magazine should even feature a child, let alone appear to mock said individual for his disability (Harvey Price suffers from a genetic disorder which causes him to gain weight) so I e-mailed the editors at Heat magazine the following:

"Dear Sir

I was appalled to find that Heat magazine has been offering stickers which feature the faces of children. I was further appalled to find that at least one of these children are disabled and that the stickers have a mocking/deriding tone to the words which accompany them.

Obviously your magazine would not exist without so called celebrities and to remain famous they need you as much as you need them. To feature pictures of consenting adult 'celebrities', whilst distasteful, is also to be expected.

Children however, especially those offspring of a 'celebrity' do not choose a way of life which includes recognition. It is important that they are protected from the public eye until they are old enough to make decisions for themselves. This protection should include publishers such as yourself refraining from publishing their photographs unless they are accompanying their parents to public events such as film premiers where there will be an expectation of publicity. Protection should certainly involve refraining from mocking, poking fun at or generally publishing photographs for no other reason than entertainment.

The sticker I am referring to in particular involves Katie Price's son. While I agree that she does appear to invite cameras into her life (and I am pleased that she does not exclude her son from this simply by virtue of being disabled) I am sure that she would never wish to extend this invitation to allowing her son to be deliberately mocked for the characteristics of his disability.

I very rarely purchase your magazine as I do not wish to perpetuate this cycle of fame for fame's sake. Rest assured that following this distasteful incident I will never be purchasing your magazine ever again and I shall be imploring my friends and colleagues to also boycott your magazine themselves.

I trust that Heat magazine will be issuing an apology for the offence they have caused to both the individuals immediately concerned, those people with disabilities or with disabled members of their families and so on who have worked tirelessly for disabled people to be fully integrated into society and to never be mocked or jeered or bullied in the name of entertainment or anything else as well as the wider public and perhaps also making a donation of profits to a charity which seeks to address this issue.

I look forward to your response in this matter. "

I received the following response:

Thank you for contacting us. No offence was intended by the Harvey sticker but I would like to unreservedly apologise for any offence caused as a result. I have spoken to The Andre's management team and have written a private letter to Katie and Peter to apologise personally.Mark Frith, Editor-in-Chief, heat"

Personally, I did not find such a generic response fulfilled my complaint. I would have liked them to explain what was intended by such a sticker and indeed why they though publishing a picture of a child was acceptable. Thankfully, it seems that Heat Magazine have been forced to publish an apology on their website. Sandwiched in amongst articles about I'm a Celebrity and Kelly Brook leaving Strictly was this which includes this extract:

"We now accept that that the decision to include this sticker was a mistake and we recognise that it has caused offence, not only to Katie and Peter Andre, but to a number of readers"

They 'now' accept? What did they think before? Perhaps in future they will think before publishing.

How to Feed your friends Supper

I have been reading a lot recently about the return of the dinner party. Perhaps not the dinner parties of the past of which I have never been but heard all too much about but instead simple supper parties amongst friends at the weekend. These articles all seem to express surprise at the 'return' of the meal enjoyed between friends, as if they somehow think that all 20 somethings are out wining and dining every evening.

Today, in the Times there was an article about Joanna Weinberg's latest book How to Feed your Friends With Relish. This is actually a book that I had considered buying (or asking for on my Christmas List) but now I'm not so sure.

Weinberg divides people into the following types of hosts:

Hostess with the mostest

Checklist
You have time to take a bath and do your make-up
You keep a store of scented candles
You make playlists for all occasions
You have an account at the florist's
You label and stack everything neatly in the freezer
You hire extra help for the next day

Chaotic bachelor

Checklist
You always have one chair too few
You overshop for food, not clear what will go with what
You often find yourself eating burnt or cold food
You feel pathetic gratitude for the invention of ready meals
You believe that most things are solved by crisps and ice-cream
You spend three times more on wine than on food

Hassled parent

Checklist
You hide toys in the washing machine in a bid to tidy up
You serve puréed vegetables more often than you mean to
You find that Annabel Carmel's recipes are fine for grown-ups, too
You put candles out of harm's way
You gratefully down three glasses of wine without coming up for air
You wish that you'd had time to wash your hair

Natural host

Checklist
You have an instinctive sense of when pasta is al dente
You know where to find unpasteurised cream
You don't give a fig for matching dinnerware
You remember when the farmer's market is on
You have dimmer switches on all your lights
You serve wine in huge glasses

I know that this is not something to be taken seriously but it did rather irritate me. Who fits into those sort of categories and where are the categories for 'normal' people? Why does everything have to be sanded down to such a level that we fit into boxes even in relation to our supper habits.

We have friends round all the time for supper. We occasionally prepare something in advance and we usually manage the shopping in advance but mostly M or I will cook with friends standing in the kitchen or outside with a cold beer or glass of wine and we will chat until the meal is cooked. The evening is not all about the food nor is the food the least important part. We cook fairly simple but healthy dishes (including portion size) all from scratch and usually sourced from the local shops – butchers, greengrocer, bakers etc- roasts, chilli, pasta and so on and usually followed by some kind of homemade pudding – crumble, pie, rice-pudding, chocolate mousse, profiteroles or cake. We drink lots of wine and sit around the table and chat. Sometimes there are only 4 of us, usually more like 6 or 8 but last weekend there were 14 (well, it was the rugby – and I didn't make any pudding). We always have enough chairs, we have beautiful matching but old turquoise dinnerware which we inherited from M's grandmother, the glass situation is occasionally hit and miss and we always spend far more on wine than food because good wine is expensive. Someone usually produces an i-pod and we have adequate speakers. Last weekend when the rugby was on was the first time that our television has been switched on when friends have been over. People pile in and out of the garden for occasional cigarettes and the gathering usually disperses in the early hours in taxis bound for various parts of London.

I do not consider myself a 'Shef' (Stay at Home and Entertain Friends according to the Times). It is simply what we have always done on the nights when we do not go out. And have done since the very start of university. I also found it irritating that Weinburg implies that being organised is the same thing as competitive or the same thing as striving for domestic perfection. She suggests a little less of this and it will seem more like a real home. She also suggests that few but the very organised have time to bake. That's the biggest load of rubbish I've heard – it hardly takes long to whip up a quick pudding and put it in the oven whilst people are eating the main course.

I think what I find so frustrating about this kind of 'lecturing' is that it is off putting. People don't fall into such obvious categories in reality. And if people are told that only the very organised bake then to someone who has never tried it before will think it is a lot of hard work. Yes, some puddings are time consuming but there are plenty are that are really easy. Scones take less than 30 minutes from start to finish which includes the cooking and the washing up. Perhaps not a traditional pudding but there are others which can be done just as easily.

To tip or not to tip?

Damien Whitworth writes in the Times today about the etiquette of tipping.

My personal view is that I detest the very idea of tipping. Left by myself I will rarely offer a tip. I have been known to occasionally round up the fare in a taxi to the nearest pound and sometimes, if offered exceptional service in a café, will leave 10-15% of the bill if I have some spare change. Usually however, I don’t. If I am out for a meal with several people who do tip then I will do but only so as not to cause a scene or embarrass my friends, although if the service poor I will refuse.

My rationale for my behaviour is thus: why should I have to pay extra for something which should come as standard. And moreover, why should I be made to feel guilty for refusing to tip substandard service.

When one eats in a restaurant one pays for far more than the food. The bill covers the costs of employing the staff including the waitresses whose job is to serve the food. If the job is done adequately then I am satisfied but I am not going to tip someone for simply doing their job. If their performance was exceptional and it was not a restaurant where you would expect that level of service then I might tip, but they are already being paid to do their job. If their boss isn’t paying them enough and is making up the wages with their tips then I feel for them but that is their issue with their boss. I am not going to pay someone’s wages.

Similarly, at the hairdressers I am already paying for the stylist’s skill and expertise. I see no reason why I should have to pay extra. So I don’t. In the loo of a bar or nightclub I rarely leave any money either. I am grateful for them handing me a towel and I always thank them but I am capable of doing this myself and would generally rather do this myself. A night can get very expensive if expected to leave £1 on each visit to the loo. This actually annoys me greatly as a job has been created where there is really no need. And why should I have to pay for it when I have already paid an entrance fee? Should I also be giving a £1 to the bouncer each time he removes someone with a bottle from the dance floor? I am far more grateful to him than the lady manning the towel dispenser in the loo for he is actually helping me to have a safer night.

There is also disparity between who expects a tip and who doesn’t. Waitresses, taxi drivers, delivery boys all seem to expect tips. I don’t get a tip by a client for doing my job. No-one when leaving court when I have spent months working on their case says “thanks Rachel, here, have this £x for helping me win my case” or whatever. It doesn’t happen.

So, it is with some dread that I ponder a trip to Washington DC to visit my little sister. I am against tipping on principle but I am also pro fitting in with local behaviour and customs when in a foreign country and trying to respect their culture. Yet I just do not see how I can bring myself to tip someone who is just doing their job. This is a conundrum which may take some time to work out.

Female Football

Got home rather late last night after attending the launch party of a new fair trade fashion label. M and I made cheese on toast and sat down to eat it on the sofa whilst watching the end of the news. Once that was over we had the misfortune to continue watching something to do with sports and they were showing the highlights of the days Female Football World Cup. (I think thats what it was anyway).

They showed the England girls playing against Japan and losing a 2-1 lead in the last minute by a Japanese free kick. Watching those girls race around on the pitch in an undignified manner reminded me of the last time that I ended up watching this spectacle. On that occasion I noted how I felt that the female players brought a bad name to women and last night seemed to be no exception.

There was Kelly Smith tearing around, doing her best Keira Knightley in Bend it like Beckham inpersonation (only nowhere near as attractive) pulling off her (gold) boots to kiss them when she scored a goal. Obviously she was not content with the mere pointing to her name on her shirt which she indulged in during club football and felt she had to think of something even more arrogant and unladylike to bring to International football. And then, when she scored again, she pulled off both gold boots. What does she plan to do if they actually manage to win a match? It's bad enough the way that men behave when they play football, but women?

When interviewed afterwards many of the players all said that they hoped it would be an exciting match which will draw more viewers. Well, I certainly won't be bothering watching any more of their matches.

Vogue

Not very impressed with Vogue or Conde Naste today. A subscription to Vogue is supposed to mean that the subscriber receives their copy of the issue a few days before the issue goes on sale on newsstands. I was expecting to receive the October issue of Vogue last Friday or Saturday. In the weekend papers, there were stories about articles in the issue, which went on sale on Monday. I have still haven't received my issue so I called the Conde Naste customer services line.

A recorded message informed me that there has been a technical difficulty and that all magazines would be delayed and should be received by 14 September 2007. This is not the first time that the has happened.

I also received an e mail last week asking if I wanted to review some perfume on my blog. I said that I might depending on whether I liked it. I was supposed to receive said perfume by the end of last week. If it does not arrive shortly I shall be naming the company instead of reviewing the perfume.

RMT & The Nigella Express

Managed to finish work at a decent time last night. My aim was to make my way to the September WI meeting on the New King's Road. Usually I get the tube but due to RMT industrial action there were no tubes. There were buses alright though, so I went to Fleet Street to catch one. I stood by that bus stop for over 50 minutes. 2 buses stopped. Those buses were only going as far as Waterloo. In the end I had to call and give my apologies and go home. The picadilly line was limping along with severe delays and we sat in the tunnel outside Russell Square for about 10 minutes waiting for trains to get out of the way at Kings Cross.

I was, am still am, furious. I am fundamentally opposed to strikes as a way to make a point or achieve decision making. They are, in my mind, akin to a toddler tantrum. I see no reason why the paying London public should have to suffer three days of misery because maintenance workers previously employed by metronet would like cast iron assurance that their pensions will remain in place and that there will be no streamlining by the administrators. Assurances have been given. TUPE no doubt applies. They are not the first workers to be facing this issue and they won't be the last. Jobs are not always as secure as we would like them to be. Striking does not really hurt Metronet; it is the paying passengers that suffer yet again. We suffered the effects of Metronet's appalling lack of ability to maintain the tubes, falling behind with repairs, allowing material to fall from roofs and impair lines. Derailments have occurred due to their incompetance. And now, the strikes.*

So I finally made it back to the house at about 8.15pm. I had not planned any supper because I had thought I would be at WI so I decided that salad and cheese scones would be the nicest supper. So easy to make yet so delicious, the way that the butter melts across the spongy surface of the hot scone, accompanied by ripe vine tomatoes and crisp gem lettuce, cucumber and spring onion, drizzled in the balsamic vinegar that we brought back from Italy. And I ate my food curled up on the sofa, watching television. A flick through the channels and settled on Nigella Express. I watched her going about her strange pretence of a busy lifestyle which involved taking taxis everywhere, including to the supermarket, but it was actually rather enjoyable to watch and the recipes looked fantastic. I think I will try and get hold of a copy of the recipe book to go with the series. I especially wanted to try the croissants and caramel sauce dish which she makes into a sort of bread and butter pudding and then curls up in bed to eat, clad in a black silk dressing gown. I imagine that there are many males who are not watching the series for the cooking.

*UPDATE - It seems that Gordon Brown agrees with me - that the strikes are completely unjustified. He even tells them to get back to work.

Is it worth it?

Every so often, a market research company that I am signed up to sends me a questionnaire. It always begins by asking me whether I am feeling generally positive or negative about a range of subjects. This invariably starts with personal issues, things over which I have some control. My home life, my relationship, my career and so on. Mainly I feel very positive about these. It then moves onto financial issues, the state of my neighbourhood, the state of the country and the state of the world.

And sadly, my answer to the final three is rarely anything but negative. Yes, there are positive things that I could say about them all, but usually, invariably, something has happened that week which makes me think that we do not live in a very safe or pleasant society, most of the time.

I almost cried on the tube reading about the needless death of another child, victim to selfish gun-culture. This time the child was barely into double figures; had yet to reach secondary school. And killed by another teenager. At the time of writing this, the police suspect the person responsible may be as young as 13*. It makes me so sad. Two wasted lives; on dead, one (when caught) serving a lifetime sentence in prison. And for what? Who knows what reason one boy has that is worth the cost of another boy's life.

And this incident was not isolated. 8 young people have been fatally shot in the UK so far this year. This week there have been two other incidents reported in the mainstream news involving guns being fired, not to mention the shooting of a motorcyclist on the M40 two weeks ago. How did we end up living in such a society where gun crime is so prevalent and so easy. I read today that guns change hands for as little as £50. Such a small amount of money, such an easy decision, such a devasting effect.

The question that needs addressing I suppose is why troubled teenagers are behaving in such a way; why they have such little respect for the value of life, their own and that of others that they would attack and even kill another child without, it appears, second thought? David Cameron spoke following Rhys Jones's murder, stating that he "blamed rap music bosses, lad mags, feckless fathers and the video game industry for the rise in gang violence and yobbish behaviour". I have no real answer to that but I suspect that there is a wider, deeper problem here. It is very easy to lay the blame at the foot of easy 'targets' but are they really the root of the problem. After all, plenty of boys read magazines, listen to rap music, play computer games and are being brought up by single mothers but know the value of life, of manners and do not hang around causing trouble. I would have thought that these people which David Cameron seek to blame maybe only symptoms, not the cause.

There is a boy that rides up and down my street on his bmx, his grey hoodie pulled up over his head. He doesn't sit on his bike when he peddles, he stands up, leaning to the left. He rides slowly past me, up and down the street. I find him vaguely threatening. I suspect that, far from being out to cause trouble, he is bored. I am cross with myself for finding him 'scary'. If he thinks I am scared and he is that bored, maybe one day he will try something, just to see what happens. Luckily for me, he is usually on his own. But, I suppose that, probably, he does have some friends and I suspect that on other occasions they all hang around together; bored. And then peddle up and down the streets in a pack, shouting at each other, because they have nothing else they can be bothered or interested enough to do. So they start showing off, because all little boys do, and jostling for position. And a while later, they have a leader. But round the corner is another group of equally bored little boys. And the two groups meet, start to jostle for territory this time. And soon enough they are emulating the bigger boys. And this time there is more at stake.

It concerns me that boredom is acceptable because everyone is too busy and there is not enough time and money to prevent it from taking hold. It concerns me so much that I have decided that I should do something to help. It won't be much, but I read that there are lots of boys who want to join the scouts but there are not enough leaders. They are desperate for adult volunteers. It's not much, but it's a start. And if only one or two more boys are involved in scouting in my area, that's one or two more who are not peddling their bikes up and down the street and maybe, just maybe, that is one or two more boys who will know that there is more value to life than starting wars over boredom.

*update - police have arrested a 16 year old in connection with this offence

Rehab Chic

I read today (in the Times as I don't speak or read Italian) that Italian Vogue have published a shoot in what the editor, Franka Sozzani, refers to as "a fun take on rehab chic". Now, I've never been to rehab but to my mind the models and 'staff' look far too attractive to be in rehab. I like the clothes, am not sure about the poses but I am sure that no-one in rehab looks well enough to be on the pages of Vogue.

It also worries me that a magazine such as Vogue may be unintentionally promoting isms which they did not intend. As a fashion piece goes, I'm sure it was intended to fall into roughly the same category as Tom Ford intended his adverts which featured girls with their pubic hair shaved into a 'G' shape. However, with so many celebrities falling off their respective bandwagons in such high profile recently (Lindsey Lohan is by no means the only example: Paris Hilton, Nicole Richie, Britney Spears and Kate Moss are all examples which spring to mind as well as Mischa Barton and Amy Winehouse) it seems that addictions have become part of our culture.

Now, I am not usually in favour of criticism of magazines and the fashion industry in general. I don't, for example, believe that fashion (and therefore magazines) are responsible for the size 0 phenomenon or spiralling trends in eating disorders. Those issues, whilst worrying, are not, in my opinion, something which can be laid at the foot of the fashion industry. So why now? Is this issue really any different?

Well, I would argue, it is. At it's bluntest models need to be slender to make the most of the clothes. They are essentially human coat hangers. There are some people who are naturally that shape, and they should be the models. Those that aren't, shouldn't, and certainly shouldn't diet to try and become something they are not. A beautiful, or at least striking, face helps. Clothes do not need to promote or 'sex up' alcohol or drug abuse in order to make the most of them. Those clothes on those models would look just as effective in a different setting. I think that the two combined is a dangerous step away from influencing people to see alcohol and drug abuse in a glamorous light. This is more than the so dubbed heroin chic of the 1990s. Those were skinny models, looking rather grungy, granted, but there was no overt reference to the drug itself in the pictures. Here, I would argue, the very nature of the concept of 'rehab chic' implies narcotics or alcohol abuse. Not even simple use. Most people who are 'users' don't need rehab. Rehab is for those that are ill, have damaged themselves through self destructive tendencies, for people that need help. It is not something which is glamorous and is not something which, in my opinion, should be the setting to inspire the Vogue reading public to associate with A/W07.