Back to reality...

We went back to work after the Christmas break last week, but this week it is definitely back to reality, with the kids back at school, my oldest sitting her mock GCSEs, and my husband preparing for a business trip to Australia.

I've therefore been reflecting on the some of the lovely things that we did over the holidays:

• spending new year's eve watching the Creation Theatre's production of "A Christmas Carol" (great fun!) followed by dinner at our local Wildwood Restaurant (very tasty!)
• having a lovely, family evening out at the cinema seeing "Pitch Perfect 3" (just as funny as the first two!)
• meeting friends for a walk up Boar's Hill followed by afternoon tea (great company and delicious homemade Christmas cake)
• enjoying lots of family time watching films, playing Scrabble and eating German Christmas biscuits.

We've also got some lovely things to look forward to. We've just booked our family summer holiday (11 nights in Montenegro, which looks beautiful), we'll be watching our oldest daughter playing Juliet in the school production of "Romeo and Juliet", we're booked in to see the play "Blood Brothers" in February, and much more.

That should be enough to get us through this dull and cold January!

The run up to Christmas

We are having a very busy run up to Christmas this year. We have had so much on -- both festive and otherwise -- that it feels a bit like we might hit Christmas somewhat unprepared!

The weekend before last we enjoyed our annual Christmas shopping trip to London. This involves traipsing along Oxford Street, admiring the lights, and spending inordinate amounts of time browsing the John Lewis food hall for Christmas stocking gifts. We also had a lovely lunch in Cafe Rouge Kingsway. This was a good find because, while relatively close to central London shopping, it is located in Holborn, which, at the weekend, is nice and quiet. Perfect for a hassle-free meal with family.

We're off to London again this Saturday to see Pinocchio at the National Theatre with my parents-in-law. We're all a bit old for it now -- the kids included -- but it should be great fun! Sunday will be dedicated to buying the Christmas tree from our local Peachcroft Farm and dressing the house ready for our celebrations.

This week I have two -- yes, two! -- Christmas lunches at work. One with my immediate team and one with my 50-strong department. The first will be a curry at a local curry house and the second will be a full-blown, three-course lunch at St. Hilda's College. Both should be delicious.

On the less exciting front, we have been organising the replacement of our leaking hot water tank (two days this week without heating or hot water in the freezing cold!), having the drains under our house cleaned, sorting out Duke of Edinburgh volunteering and braces for our youngest, supporting our eldest as she revises for her mocks. The list goes on...

Only two more weeks of work and then we'll be there! I'm really looking forward to the break and to enjoying our traditional German celebrations with family on Christmas Eve!

Lost in Translation

On the plane journey back from our trip to India, I watched one of my favourite movies -- Lost in Translation. I have seen this several times over the years, but never seem to tire of it. It is by turns funny, moving and rather sad.

The film focuses on two apparently very different types of people who are trapped in a hotel in Japan. The first is a disillusioned, middle-aged actor (played by Bill Murray) who is there to film a commercial for whisky. The second is a young, recently and unhappily married woman (played by Scarlett Johansson) who is accompanying her photographer husband on a shoot.

The humour in the film focuses on what it is like to be lost in an utterly foreign environment -- in this case jetlagged and lonely in a country where everything is just so different. Japanese showers seem to be made only for short people; the running machine in the gym unaccountably speeds up with no warning and it's impossible to get off; the hotel curtains open automatically at a pre-set time, no matter whether you are asleep or awake; why does it take twice as long to say something in a foreign language as it does to say the same thing in English.

Murray and Johansson, both lost and lonely, strike up an unlikely relationship and find that they have more in common than appearances might lead one to expect. They are both in failing marriages, they are both questioning the direction of their lives, and, of course, they are both trapped in Japan.

This film does a fantastic job of communicating feelings and experiences rather than objects and events. It's a hard thing to do, but this film excels at it. That's why I love it, I think.

The Tidal Zone

I have just finished reading a book by one of my favourite authors, Sarah Moss.

This one -- her most recent -- is called "The Tidal Zone" and is a really interesting, thought-provoking read. The basic story line involves a fifteen-year-old girl who almost dies from an unexplained anaphylactic incident whilst at school. The book is told in the first person (from the girl's father's point of view) and follows how the girl's family copes after this incident.

However, this basic story line is in fact a container for a whole host of other things -- and it is these things that the book is really about. Moss covers the NHS (how it operates in today's chronically underfunded and chronically overcrowded world), the nature of family, how one's previous experience shapes one's reaction to future experiences, how the the practicalities of everyday life impact on a relationship, the role of breadwinner versus homemaker... The list goes on.

This description makes "The Tidal Zone" sound like a very serious book -- and in some ways it is, or at least some of the topics that Moss writes about in it are serious. Yet the writing style is light and lively and Moss is genuinely funny, drawing out the humour in the banalities of everyday life.

If you're looking for a book that is superbly written and easy to read but also intelligent and insightful, I would recommend "The Tidal Zone".

Algorithms versus the human mind

I read an interesting article in yesterday's newspaper. The strap line was: [Computer] Algorithms are capable of errors and discrimination. The article continued to give examples of such errors and discrimination:

• a beauty contest used an algorithm to judge contestants but, because it had been trained only on white women, it was found to discriminate against women with dark skin;
• a man had his driving licence revoked because anti-terrorism facial recognition software mistook him for someone else;
• over 1,000 people a week are mistakenly identified as terrorists at airports by the algorithms used there;
• an algorithm used to assess teacher performance scored a number of teachers badly -- yet these same teachers had previously been rated highly by parents and school principals. The reason? The algorithm based its scored on a very small number of student results and some teachers had tricked the system by suggesting to their pupils that they should cheat.

So: Generalising on the basis of a very small number of instances. Mistaking someone for someone else. Discrimination due to narrow exposure. Being duped by another person. It all sounds eerily familiar, doesn't it?

So much for computer programs being more reliable than human beings. Turns out there's not so much difference between the two systems after all...

Teenagers

We have two gorgeous kids -- one teenager and one almost teenager. They are lovely (and pretty damned good as people of this age go, I think), but all the things they say about teenagers really are true:

• They don't come out of their rooms unless prevailed upon to do so, or unless food is on offer.
• They don't like to leave the house, or not with their parents, at least. Although, see above, if it involves food, they can quite easily be enticed out.
• They will grunt if they don't want to answer your questions.
• They will only tidy their rooms if asked to do so.
• If you suggest going for a walk in the countryside, they interpret this as a fate worse than death.
• They will get upset if you nag them or disagree with them.

The funny thing is, I distinctly remember being just like this as a teenager. Do you?

Jobs, pay and the future

I had an interesting discussion with my youngest daughter the other day about the future, job opportunities, etc.—the kinds of things we all worry about for our kids.

My daughter was clear that she wanted a good job. ‘What constitutes a good job?’ I asked. ‘One that pays well,’ was her reply. Well, that’s a valid answer. It’s great to have a well-paid job, but is that what makes it a good job? And what about being well paid? As I tried to explain to my daughter, ‘well paid’ is  a relative concept. You may work in the public sector and be lucky enough to have  a ‘well-paid’ job. If so, your notion of ‘well paid’ will be quite different from that of someone who works in the private sector and has a ‘well-paid’ job, simply because salaries are higher in the private sector than in the public sector. ‘Yes, but as I said, my definition of a good job is one that it is well paid,’ replied my daughter, coming right back at me. She’s not a fan of shades of grey!

When you’re young and don’t have any experience of the workplace, it’s easy to think that the ride will be straightforward. Good school education. University. Good degree. A good, well-paid job should follow, shouldn’t it? But that’s not always the case, of course. It can be difficult to get your foot on the first rung of the ladder, let alone end up in a position where you are senior enough to earn a good salary. Furthermore, it’s not just a case of getting a good degree; which degree is highly significant as well. As we all know, a degree in a science or engineering subject is a much surer route to a high earning job than is a degree in the arts or humanities. My daughter would like to do something that involves writing and pointed out to me that I had said that medical writing is well paid. That’s true—it is. But what she’d failed to take on board was my additional point that in order to be a medical writer you need at least a first degree (preferably a PhD) in the life sciences. So, medical writing isn’t an accessible career for someone with a degree in English.

On second thoughts, perhaps it’s better that we’re not aware of all this stuff when we’re young. Maybe it is just best to aim for what you love, in the belief that things will come together exactly as you would wish them to. After all, there’s always the chance that they will—and, if not, maybe it’s best to save up the disappointment and negativity for later!

Lovely Tesco delivery drivers

Tesco delivers our shopping once a week and the thing we like about this -- apart from the convenience, of course -- is the drivers.

On the whole, they are a lovely, friendly bunch. And there are one or two who we have got to know really quite well. We spend a while chatting to them on the doorstep and have learnt about what's going on it their lives -- their kids, their spouses, their plans to buy a new car, etc., etc. It's a pleasure when they deliver.

Last week, the driver who delivered to us was quite a surprise -- we hadn't seen him for several months. It transpired that his partner had been ill and so he had transferred to work for a Tesco branch in Wales for a few months so that she could recuperate. He told us all about the beautiful scenery and the relaxed pace of life in Wales. It sounded as if he'd like to go back!

We just enjoy chatting to these friendly Tesco delivery drivers, but I imagine that they provide a real service to the elderly and the lonely. Who would have thought that Tesco could be credited with that?

'Life after Life' and second hand books

I recently finished reading 'Life after Life' by Kate Atkinson, which I really enjoyed and highly recommend. It centres on a character called Ursula, who is born in England in 1910. The key premise is really that there are different courses that our lives might take, dependent on what happens at particular points in time. This might sound like a truism, but in Ursula's case, we see her life pan out in multiple ways, multiple times. In one version of her life, she dies at birth, the umbilical cord strangling her with the midwife stuck in snow and so unable to attend. In another, she survives infancy, only to die falling from a window in pursuit of a doll that her brother has thrown out. In another she she meets and marries an abusive man, who eventually kills her. In yet another she doesn't meet this man, but works as an air raid warden during the second world war and is killed by a falling bomb. And so on.

The story is intricate, remarkably clever and makes you think. What happens in one's life really is, to a large extent, a matter of fate, no matter how much control we may feel we have over events. In addition, the story paints a vivid and fascinating picture of what it was like to live through the second world war.

'Life after Life' was published in 2013, so I have come to read it a bit late. But this is because I picked the book up second hand in Oxfam. I have recently discovered the joy of books on sale in charity shops. I love reading and I like to own my own copies, but with most books priced at around £8 now, this can sometimes be hard to justify. I was in Oxfam buying Christmas wrapping paper the other day and by chance went across to browse the books. I came away with three for less that £6, all of which were good reads. So, I'm now a second hand book convert!

Christmas Extravaganza -- a bit of a damp squib

Late yesterday afternoon, we went out en famille to see the Abingdon Christmas Extravaganza -- specifically, the fire show followed by the Christmas light switch on and fireworks.

We were particularly looking forward to the fire show.This was a new attraction last year and had been brilliant -- a very skilled guy who performed all sorts of acrobatics and antics with batons of fire.

We arrived early and managed to find a reasonable place standing up behind the few rows of benches that were set out for those who preferred to be seated. However, once the performance started, we found that we couldn't see a thing. People had pushed in front of us and stood blocking our view, while those people at the front who had benches, and so should have been sitting down, chose to stand up, thereby blocking everyone's view, In a desperate attempt to see something, we and the kids walked round to a point behind the stage and stood on the edge of the pavement so that we could peer through the gaps in the backdrop and at least get vague glimpses of fire. However, even here, an adult pushed in front of my oldest daughter, entirely blocking her view.

At this point, feeling very disappointed, we gave up and went in search of a warming hot chocolate from one of the nearby cafes, but unfortunately, the queues were so long there, that we simply decided to go home. We caught a glimpse of the fireworks on the way (which were good), but we didn't see the actual light switch on.

It's funny how sometimes the things that you are most looking forward to turn out to be the most disappointing, while something totally unexpected can be amazing. It's also sad that people can be so selfish. If people had behaved a little bit better, it would have been possible for everyone to have a good time and enjoy the fire show. As it was, those of us who weren't prepared to push and think only of ourselves lost out.

How people's live can change

It sometimes amazes me how people's lives can change over time; how someone's life can begin on one trajectory and end up on quite another.

For example, many years ago, when I lived up in Scotland, I had a very close friend. We were studying for our PhDs together and we saw each other most days. She was even a bridesmaid at my wedding.

My friend was (obviously) very bright and she was talented in other ways, too -- she was outgoing, sociable, and a great comedienne and mimic. I have no doubt that she would have excelled at stand up, had she tried it. She was the heart and soul of any party and she was also a bit of wild child -- an extremely heavy drinker and a bit of a flirt. She was great fun to be around. And she seemed destined for a successful career, gaining a temporary lectureship at a time when jobs in academia in the humanities were almost impossible to come by.

Yet, not long after I received my PhD and moved down south, things seemed to take a turn for the worse for my friend. She gave up her job. She was in a car crash. And the next thing I heard, she had been sectioned.

Our lives took quite different directions and we gradually drifted apart. We exchanged Christmas cards for a while, but eventually lost touch completely.

The other day, in an idle moment, I did a Web search for my old friend and was shocked to find that she had been the subject of a missing person search. She had disappeared and police had appealed for witnesses, saying that they were becoming increasingly concerned for her safety, as they considered her to be "vulnerable". To my relief, she had been found safe and well a few days later.

But all of this made me think how transient success can be. Someone can apparently be headed in one direction, and then something can just change, which makes their life veer off in another direction altogether. My friend should have been a successful academic (that's where things seemed to be going), and yet, ultimately, her life has turned out quite differently.

Big school beckons

I can't quite believe it -- my youngest child started secondary school this week. Yet it seems like only yesterday that she was a tiny tot starting primary school.

And my oldest child is already starting on GCSE work!

Where does the time go?

The take away coffee culture

On my walk into work the other day I felt thirsty, and so I popped into a cafe to pick up a bottle of water to take into the office with me.

Something struck me as I emerged -- 95 per cent of the people around me, who were making their way to work just like me, were clutching take away cups of coffee. And almost everyone in the cafe had been purchasing take away coffee, with the exception of one guy who was buying a bottle of water, like me.

There is much talk at the moment of Britain's economy being kept afloat by the (relatively new) coffee shop culture, but I've never thought much about this before now. However, it's incredible that so many people seem to purchase expensive coffee to start off their working days. I wonder what's happened to rolling into the office and making a cup of instant while waiting for your computer to start up?

Not that I can talk, of course. I've never been much of a fan of office kitchens and shared milk that is about to go off!

Summer holidays!

Ah, the joy of the summer holidays! I have become a taxi service for my eldest, it seems...

For example, the other day I found myself driving around the countryside picking up a whole gaggle of teenagers before delivering them for an afternoon out in a neighbouring town. One of the other mothers was on pick up duty a few hours later.

My eldest was doing directions for me and, to give her her due, she was pretty good. But I noticed that the quality of the directions decreased as each new friend got into the car...

The conversation amongst the young was riveting. Lots about texting. Lots about fashion. Lots of gossip. All discussed at high volume.

When we reached the other end, excitement levels were so high that everyone forgot to say goodbye to me.

Do you remember being a teenager?!

Le Creuset

We had an interesting mealtime incident the other day. We were celebrating a family birthday with a fondue at home. At the end of the meal, one of the children present at the table looked at the fondue pot and commented, 'That's Le Creuset, isn't it?'

It was.

It struck me as amusing somehow that this young person was familiar with Le Creuset tableware. I mean, how middle class is that?!

The end of term -- and the end of primary school

We finally reached the end of term on Friday. Not only was it the end of term, but it was also the end of primary school for my youngest. So, no more primary school, ever. Hurrah!

However, it's been a hectic run up to the end of primary school. Over the past two weeks, we have had the following: the school disco, sports day, the leavers' performance (two nights), Fun on the Field (a social event that takes place on the school field on a Saturday evening and involves brining a picnic supper and listening to local bands playing), the leavers' picnic, the leavers' service, and the leavers' party (an evening event at the local open air pool, requiring a parent to be present with each child).

I think we're going to need the six weeks' break to recover from the welter of primary school leaving events... Here we come, secondary school -- refreshed, I hope!

Partners for life

I heard two women chatting in a cafe the other day. They were talking about a friend who was changing her hours at work. One option for the friend was to work on Friday mornings, but not Friday afternoons. She declined this option, however, because her husband didn't work on Friday afternoons and she "didn't want to spend any time with him".

Similarly, I remember years ago, when I was doing a holiday job at the Royal Mail sorting office, getting talking to a female co-worker who worked full time at the sorting office. She worked nights. Her husband worked there too, but he worked days. She commented that they were like ships passing in the night, but that this situation suited her perfectly as she didn't want to spend time with her husband.

I wonder how people end up in such sad, unsociable relationships, especially in this day and age when it is usual to test the waters by living together first. I am lucky enough to have a husband who I actively enjoy spending time with -- and that seems to me how things, ideally, should be. After all, your spouse is meant to be your partner for life and someone who you don't talk to and don't want to spend time with isn't much of a partner. I know that my life would be much less rich in the absence of the relationship that I have with my husband.

HMRC and telephone targets

I listened with interest to the article on the news this morning about HMRC failing to answer more than a quarter of phone calls last year. I have to do the dreaded self-assessment tax return each year and so have, on a number of occasions, called up HMRC. Luckily, I have always managed to get through quickly and have had my questions answered -- although I haven't generally been ringing at peak times, e.g. just before the deadline for self-assessment.

What interested me most in the article, though, is that HMRC has set itself a target to answer 80 per cent of calls in the future. This just struck me as bizarre. Surely the target should be to answer 100 per cent of calls!

Part of my day job involves responding to (often very complex) queries that come in relating to academic research and ethics. Admittedly, this is on a tiny scale compared to the queries that HMRC receives. However, we manage these queries with two part-time, overworked members of staff and we answer (note: do answer, not aim to answer) one hundred per cent of those queries. I can't imagine how our employer would react if we said we were setting ourselves the target of replying to 80 per cent of queries in the future!

But back to HMRC. What are the remaining 20 per cent of people whose calls aren't answered meant to do? Not pay their tax bills? I can't quite see that one flying with HMRC...

Wearables and the coffee shop experience

I heard an interesting article last week on Radio 4's Today programme about so-called 'wearables' -- wearable technology such as smart watches. This article covered the uses to which such wearable devices can be put -- transferring our personal data to other devices in order to make our lives easier, for instance. The example given, which really made my ears prick up, was that your smart watch might be used to transfer your personal beverage preferences to the computer at your local coffee shop, with the result that your coffee would be ready and waiting for you on your arrival. No need to queue. No need to take time to decide whether or not you'd like to try the coffee of the week.  No need whatsoever to speak to another human being. Simply grab and go -- in the most literal sense.

The general gist of the Today programme discussion covered the ethics and data protection aspects of such practice -- is it safe or desirable for people's personal data to be transmitted in this way? Research showed that opinion on this issue is divided, with, perhaps predictably, the very young (those already most comfortable with mobile devices, social media, etc.) voicing the least concern.

But my interest lay in the social -- or lack of social -- aspects of such practice in relation to the coffee shop experience. I actively enjoy going into a coffee shop, standing in a queue, observing the people around me, interacting with the barista to order my coffee (pass the time of day, have a joke...). I can't imagine anything worse than grabbing my coffee and leaving without any social interaction whatsoever.

Am I unusual in this, I wonder? Or am I one of many set-in-their-ways, middle-aged people who feel just the same? (And, as a largely irrelevant aside, who takes a word like 'wearables' seriously anyway?!)

First names and last names

Even in the informal, everyone-is-equal world of today, first names and last names are still used as indicators of status. This struck me most recently when flying home from Venice. The captain did the usual welcome announcement once we’d all boarded the plane. He referred to himself and his co-pilot by first name and surname, yet introduced the cabin crew by first name only. Why? I assume because pilots are considered more senior in rank, hence ‘better’ than cabin crew. But in fact these two professions are just different – it doesn't make any sense to compare seniority across the two.

The same applies to the health professions. Doctors are referred to by surname and nurses by first name. In the past, of course, nurses were also referred to by surname – back when everyone was known by their title and surname in the workplace. So why have things changed for nurses, but not for doctors? Again, I assume it is to do with perceived seniority. I remember my surprise when the doctor who was called to assist with the delivery of my first child introduced herself by her first name. Even after hours of labour, this struck me as unusual! When the midwives told me that this doctor was coming to assist, they described her as ‘lovely’. She was also young. Maybe that’s why she bucked the naming convention. Or maybe she was keen to establish a rapport with her patients quickly. Either way, this is not the norm.

Some of my elderly relatives lament the fact that it is now usual to call someone by their first name rather than their surname. One of them mentioned this in the context of being a patient in hospital. Now all patients are referred to by first name, whereas in the past they would have been referred to by title and surname. My elderly relative found it demeaning that someone sixty years her junior should address her by her first name.

So, in the past, surnames were the norm outside one's circle of family and friends. But nowadays first names are the norm, except in professions which are considered particularly prestigious or in some way special. It's interesting how these things change.