New To Twitter ??

So your new to twitter ?
I hope this blog explains some of the best and worst of twitter and hopefully will guide you towards an interesting and positive experience.

Firstly I should say “BE CAREFUL“
Why be careful? Well unlike other social networks you may have used before, such as Facebook or Linked-in, twitter is an ‘Open Forum’ which basically means anyone in the world can, and will see, what you have said.

When you say something on, for example, Facebook, only your circle of friends will (normally) see what you have said, whereas on twitter everyone, even if they are not on twitter, can see it.

Secondly, as with all things in life, there are good people and bad people on twitter. You only have to look at a celebrity or a footballer and see the vile & horrible things that people say to them, and after 20 seconds you will want to leave twitter. But bear with me, and you will be able to avoid (as much as possible) these awful people.

My experience of twitter is good, but these golden rules should be followed, (listed below). Also when being careful, do not divulge anything too personal, such as your address and then wonder why you were burgled when you were tweeting about being on a three month holiday to the Riviera, or giving away your bank and password !

Ok, so just like any communication, we think twice about what we say, and even though we may have strong opinions on something, be prepared for ‘some nutter, somewhere in the world’, to give you a nasty reply. (I will talk about blocking & privacy later)

So, who do I follow ? And what does that mean. Well it means you will follow that person and all their tweets will appear on your time-line. (Sorry, timeline is the word for all those tweets you see on your screen when you log-on).

Choose carefully who you follow, I’ll not tell you who to follow, but if I may suggest, try and find people with common interests as yourself. For example, I am a Manchester City fan, and therefore the majority of people who I follow are Manchester City fans. By doing this in the early stages with people who share your interests, you can slowly learn how this whole twitter thing works. In time, you will then become more used to twitter and encompass other groups of people, such as charity, finance, travel or whatever you are interested in.

Who’s following me ?? Now by the time you read this, you will probably have about 10 followers, most of whom you do not know, nor have any interest in. These are what we call ‘Bot’s or Spammers’. They are nothing more than a computer invented, false account that just wants to get your attention in order to sell you something. Do not be under the illusion that these Spammers like you, know you or are even interested in you. Just like the the rich Prince in Nigeria that e-mails you about sending you money, it’s not real. Also the bank or charity that follow you are not real.

“But Madonna is following me?” …. Come on, think about it, is she really ? Yes, 10,000 people may have been sucked into believing its her and followed her back, but please, take everything on twitter (and any other social network) with a huge ‘pinch of salt’ and mix it together with a large portion of skepticism !

People may not be who they say they are, usually they are fake celebrities or fake family members of a celebrity. I was joking with Stephen Fry’s wife about this the other day, the fake account did not realise Stephen Fry wasn’t married !!

So always ask “why is this person following me”?. Now the chances are, the persons following you may have similar interests as you, and are interested in your tweets and opinions. The world cup is a good example, or during the London riots in 2010 more information was passed by twitter that through the media. The person who has started following you may have become aware of you because you and someone else have a mutual friend on twitter, or they could be the ‘nutter’ I referred to earlier.

Ok, I’ve followed some people, some have followed me back and it’s going ok, but why are people saying “Followback” to me. Well the short answer is that some people ask you to follow them back as you may be able to share thoughts and opinions, sadly others are only interested in gaining followers for themselves. I will address this later (if this blog is a success)

Now your tweeting away, your reading other people’s views and then like a bolt of thunder, some clown says something nasty to you.

Block them
Forget it
Be hard skinned

I consider myself to be a friendly tweeter’ engaging with others, even those of a different football club, but I once got drawn into a row with another City fan about homeless people. I should have just blocked him, but learn from MY mistakes, remember everyone can see what you say, and before you know it, the whole world is taking sides. Do you really care if ABC123 or whatever their twitter name is, un-follows you ?? No, so Block and move on.

“What’s a Re-tweet?“. Has someone ever pinched your joke on Facebook and you have seen them get ’300 likes’ and all the time you are sitting there thinking “that’s my joke, you nicked that from me”? Well a RT (re-tweet) is a way of saying to your followers, that you like something and want to share it with them, whilst still giving credit to the original person who first said it.

It must be said, that you should be careful what you RT. At times I get mad, as a certain tea brand or shop may say “RT this to win a supply of tea bags for a year”. Ok, do you really want free tea bags ? Are the people who follow you actually interested in your desire to win free tea bags ?? A Ferrari maybe, but tea bags ? It’s your choice, but I hope it illustrates the point about thinking what you tweet.

Porn. This is the Internet, so your going to get porn. Out of no-where some “BOT” will send you a link and it will, believe me, it will be porn. It’s your choice, but remember these links do carry viruses.

Speaking of viruses, now would be a good time to mention some of the oldest tricks in the book. The current virus doing the rounds is where you receive a DM (Direct Message) that usually starts off with “Have you seen what this person is saying about you”, another favourite is “I’m laughing so much at this picture of you”. You can imagine the sort of wording, it’s designed to make you feel insecure and click on the link attached. Yes you’ve guessed it, one click nothing happens and behind the scenes, the virus has attacked you.

Privacy
You can protect your tweets by selecting it in the settings part of the twitter home page. On the plus side, only those who you allow can see you tweets, but this is 2012 and anyone can copy the page and tell the world what you said, so it’s not fool proof. Speaking of privacy, my sister joined twitter recently, and the first thing I said was “get that picture off”. Until you are used to twitter, I personally advise either a blurred picture of yourself or an emblem or something. You may, in the early days fall for a scam, and you don’t want people knowing you just yet do you ?? Many of my City fans have distinctive City pictures such as the FA cup final or homer Simpson in a city shirt etc. in short be careful how much you share. Certainly having a photo should encourage greater affinity with people, but are you sure that their picture is really them ???

If I may illustrate this further. I was dining in one of my favourite restaurants in London when a man came over to me and said “Your Neil Brownhill”… Immediately I thought, are you a client ? A Solicitor, Barrister or Judge whom I work with?? Before my mind started to panic he calmly said “You don’t really know me, but I’ve been following you on twitter for 6 months and I know how you really like this restaurant. Therefore, I have brought my partner here, based on your tweets. I noticed you were tweeting from here tonight and as your picture looks like you, then I put two and two together”

Now I know that my wife felt really uncomfortable about that incident, but it does illustrate the point clearly about your privacy.

So, some golden rules.

1. Be careful
2. Privacy
3. Is Michael Jackson really following you (think about it)
4. Learn to use the Block button
5. You may think your right, but everyone is entitled to an opinion of their own

If this very basic introduction to twitter, I don’t want to put you off, but intend to guide you safely through this new phenomenon of social interaction. If you have enjoyed it, found it useful, please let me know. Also, if there are other questions or topics you feel could be of use in a second blog then again feedback is always good. These topic may be FollowFriday, using web based filters, lists, which app for my phone/tablet/PC or Mac ? I don’t have all the answers, but I will try and cover as many as possible.

Finally, why are you on twitter? What do you want? Please spare a minute and read my blog about the positive things about twitter called “Good People” (The kindness of strangers)

Tyred of Poor Service

Ok, it’s a play on words, but this blog, like earlier ones, is about the simple things in life, like manners.

As always seems to be the case in our family, anything car related ends up being my responsibility. I’ve never fathomed this out, given that my knowledge of cars starts and ends with, “4 wheels & they drink petrol”.

To enlighten you further with my motoring credentials, here is a brief resume of my motoring disasters:

A shared car with an ex-girlfriend (when we were in our late teens) was a bright yellow mini with Pertula written down the side.
A BMW coupe, not the proper one, but the small ones that looked as if it had been washed at a too higher temperature and had shrunk. This was affectionately referred to by my mates as the ‘smurf mobile’
A Renault megane coupe, this little car was again, affectionately referred to by my friends as my ‘hair-dresser’ car
A silver Mondeo. Not too bad you think, but when I tell you it had beige seats, you’ll see why the family were embarrassed to get into it.

So you’ll agree, that when it comes to motoring, I’m not really the Jeremy Clarkson type.
Anyway, I digress, Mrs B needed a new tyre and it was my ‘manly Saturday duty’ to get it fixed. I contemplated buying some overalls, staining them with oil and putting a rag in my back pocket in order to look more like a Petrol-head, or at least someone who knew what a catalytic converter was, but opted for the “I haven’t a clue, don’t rip me off too much look”

Having trawled through the Internet in search of the best deal, I did what everyone else does, and simply drove to the nearest tyre garage. On entering the forecourt I was faced with a dilemma, Kwik-Fit or National Tyres.

Which one do I choose ? I don’t know, a tyre is a tyre isn’t it ?

National Tyres looked busy, Kwik-Fit was empty, and I thought to myself “let’s get this humiliating experience over and done with, as soon as possible”.

I slowly drove into the Kwik-Fit garage and became aware of muffled shouts around me. The garage was empty, nobody around, so who was shouting and who was it directed at ?
I opened the car door, swallowed my pride and prepared to throw myself at the mercy of the garage in order that a new tyre could be fitted. Walking towards the reception area, the muffled noises became clearer and clearer, was it me they were shouting at ?

What had I done ? What was he saying ? Is it an emergency ?

“What you doing driving that f@@{ing car in here” bellowed out from a very grumpy man. I turned around to make sure he wasn’t talking to someone beind me. “You can’t put your f@@{ing car there” was the next outburst.

Again, I turned around to look behind me but nobody was there. I pointed to myself and mimed the word “Me”?? I was in shock, what had I done wrong I thought. By this time, Mr grumpy was outside of his little office, and was walking towards me. I will confess, I did panic a little, thinking he may be a mad-man and I’ll end up with a spanner up my backside. So I quickly apologised for whatever, I was supposed to have done and started my retreat.

“Health & Safety” he mumbled, “Health & Safety” he repeated.
Again, I said “sorry, what have I done”……
“Your not allowed to drive your car here, it’s dangerous” he mumbled.
Gob-smacked I shyly retreated to the safety of the car and politely said “Sorry, I didn’t want to cause any trouble, I only wanted a tyre”. Quickly, I shut the door, and he stood there scowling at me. Having now locked the door, I opened the window slightly and again apologised, explaining that “I only wanted a tyre”.

I know your thinking I should have ‘decked him’ or taken his name, but it was early on a Saturday morning and I’d not had my “3 Shredded Wheat”…….Ok I’ll be honest, I was kacking myself.

Full masculinity resumed, as I reversed the car out of there in a style that James Bond would have been proud off (except for no smoke or screeching tyres etc).

I think the adrenaline must have started pumping through me, as I drove into National Tyres with my “don’t mess with me swagger”. In reality, they were probably wetting themselves with laughter at what they had seen unfold next door. But they were polite, courteous and well mannered.

In summary, the tyre got changed, I won’t go to Kwik-fit, and more importantly the marketing departments of the world most famous tyres are crying in the ‘focus groups’ wondering why I think a tyre is just a tyre after the millions they spend on advertising.

Remember, Remember the Fifth of November…..

Well that’s what we were taught in primary school back in the 1970’s. I remember sitting there listening to how there was a ‘festival of fire’ to celebrate the Protestant victory over the Catholics in, what at the time, was a huge story of how Parliament was going to be blown up by a man with a funny name (I was 8 years old), called Guy Fawkes.

Even then, in my grey shirt, elastic tie, grey shorts and matching (embarrassing) socks, I couldn’t understand why this event was celebrated. My great-aunt was a Catholic, she was a God fearing woman, who now (as a Christian, I believe, is with Jesus in Heaven). There was even a Catholic church near the school, and some of my classmates went there every Sunday. So why did we draw pictures of bonfires, and talk about someone who tried to cause harm too people?

In the 1970’s there was (as a young boy) I remember, news about the troubles in Ireland, and I knew that whether you were a Protestant or a Catholic it didn’t make any difference to Jesus, as both were seen as equal in his eyes.

We all celebrated the Birth of Jesus at our school nativity play, and there was no faith issues in who played Jesus or Mary there! Believe you me, as always happens, it was the ‘teachers pet’ that got the star role in any school play. Sadly, from an early age, I knew my days of ‘treading the boards’ in the West-End were doomed, purely because I was not shaving at a mere 8 years old!.

I still find it ironic to this day that Jesus was played by a ‘sporty type’ of guy who was a good Catholic lad and Mary was played by a Christian girl who was also Australian by birth! (work that out when your only 8 years old).

But, just like the skipping around the maypole on May Day, with your parents taking pictures on their 35mm cameras, that will come back to haunt you for eternity, we did ‘what we were told’ by the teachers. This was the 1970’s and teachers could still give you a ‘whack’ if you stepped out of line.

Did it harm me? No. Do I feel the need to take legal action against my primary school? No. Did we get a sense of pride knowing our parents were there watching us dress up like Guy Fawkes and reciting poems? Yes of course we did.

That was my youth, I wouldn’t change a single thing (except for the cute girl, who played Mary, who subsequently moved back to Australia and broke my heart).

Fast forward to the year 2007, and I am at Glasgow airport. I am minding my own business, when Bilal Abdullah & Kafeel Ahmed arrive in their green jeep, fully loaded with propane canisters, and drive straight into the airport, in an attempt to ‘make their own statement’ against Parliament by causing huge loss of life. Just like Guy Fawkes, these guys were not ‘cannon fodder’, they were educated men. Mr Abdullah was a doctor and Mr Kafeel worked at the local hospital.

Thankfully, no lives were lost on that day. But do we drive around in green jeeps on the 30^th June each year celebrating this? No we don’t. So why do we spend millions of pounds every year on bonfire night?

I don’t have a problem with Sainsbury’s (other than their monopoly on Red-Nose day, but that’s another blog), but they advertise that in these dark times of recession, you can “feed your family for £50 a week” and at the same time, promote people spending over £100 on fireworks, which wont even last long enough to cook a piece of chicken.

Sorry, “I don’t get it“. With our county in deep financial crisis, it’s not just the money that worries me; it’s the Health & Safety aspect. I read a report which quoted, that for every £1 spent on fireworks, then £2 is spent on the NHS with treating firework related accidents, not to mention the fire brigade being on full alert during the ‘silly season’, thus costing everyone money in taxes. (In 2009 over 1000 people needed hospital treatment for firework related injuries – source ROSPA 3^rd Nov 2010)

Also, I don’t understand that in the name of “Guy Fawkes” I can legitimately buy dynamite, but if I try and go through an airport with so much as a 200ml bottle of water, then I’m a threat to national security.

Thankfully, the recession has lead to a drop-off in sales of fireworks, but this inevitably leads to cheaper, illegal and unsafe brands, which are flooding the market. Only this week, GMR Radio reported on a teenager who, will probably, loose his hand, because of playing with fireworks.

So, if I may surmise, “I don’t understand it”.

I don’t want your feedback on Jew or Gentile, Muslim or Atheist.
Speak to your ‘Line Manager In Life’ about that, not me.

But be safe. Teach each other safety, teach one another, love and respect.
Finally, as a good ‘Blue Peter’ watcher from the 1970’s, if your going to use fireworks this year, then remember what Peter Perves taught us with ‘Shep’ the dog…..
The firework code:

Plan your firework display to make it safe and enjoyable
(The days before we had mobiles & email)
Keep fireworks in a closed tin box and use them one at a time
(Tin Box? Like the old Crawford’s or foxes biscuits tin)
Read and follow the instructions on each firework using a torch if necessary
(We used to have torches before iPhones)
Light the firework at arm’s length with a taper and stand well back
(and don’t tweet or FB while your lighting it)
Keep naked flames, including cigarettes, away from fireworks
(in the days when you could smoke)
Never return to a firework once it has been lit
(No really… Don’t)
Don’t put fireworks in pockets and never throw them
(Its not a ‘LOL’ moment, its Real)
Direct any rocket fireworks well away from spectators
(i.e. the sky)
Never use paraffin or petrol on a bonfire
(think of a zippo exploding, but only 100 times worse)
Make sure that the fire is out and surroundings are made safe before leaving
(That doesn’t mean drinking WKD until 2am)
Put your 70’s Jeans outside your Wellington Boots
(Ask your parents if you don’t understand)

Be Safe and Love one another

Good People (The Kindness of Strangers)

In the aftermath of the dreadful riots across the UK, there has been so much “finger-pointing” at who is to blame. Recently the government (who blamed society, who blamed the police, who blamed the government, who blamed the economy, who blamed the parents…. etc etc etc) called a meeting of the major social networking companies, to ask how their part in this, social networking phenomenon, had influenced and had fuelled the troubles.

However, this blog is not about blame, nor the causes, or the reasons for trouble, but is a positive personal experience of the use of social networking. I should comment here, that I have no interest (personal or financial) in any of the companies mentioned, and as regular readers of my blog know, I use social networks whilst traveling, for up to date news, information, prayer requests, banter and of course, for keeping me in-touch with any news about Manchester City. (but don’t let the City theme stop you from reading)

As with all things in life, there is a good and a bad use of this thing we call ‘social networking’, and here is MY experience of the good things, about a personal issue called #BIL

#BIL will be know to you on Twitter and Facebook-as we say up north- as “My Sister’s fella Simon”.

#BIL was injured in a horrific car accident, and for legal reasons (as the case is still being pursued) I cannot say any more, other than the Police are doing a good job in finding the person/persons responsible, who will be bought to justice (long live CCTV).

That aside, after the awful first phone-call giving the basic details about the accident, I was en-route to London to be there and to help my sister and her family.

On the train, I was aware that my Dad was at the Man City game, and I knew I had to get a message to him, so that he should phone home to collect Mum, so that, they could go to my sisters house, to look after her children whilst she was at the hospital, praying beside #BIL’s bed.

As well as texting my dear friend Raymond, my cousin Lucy and the lads at the game, I used this powerful medium of Twitter & FB to ask for 3 things:

1) That all my friends could Pray for this situation
2) That a fellow City fan, could ‘grab a steward’ and get them to announce that my Dad should phone home
3) That fellow blues could let me know if they had heard the announcement

On the journey down to London (where #BIL had been taken to a specialist brain injury unit) my phone almost ran out of battery, with the well wishes, thoughts prayers and genuine concerns of people, some of whom, I had never met before.

As you can expect with social networking, the initial flurry of interactivity is inevitable. However over the next few days, weeks and months, people were genuinely asking how #BIL was, how he was doing, how my sister was coping and what could they do to help. Amongst the genuine questions, thoughts and assurances, there were people saying:

• “Assure your sister that they know someone in a similar position, it will be ok”
• “Your sister will find strength, hang on in there”
• “The Lord will guide you all”
• “That hospital is great, he’ll be looked after”
• “Hold-firm and be there for them both to support them”
• “Love to you all”
• “What can I do to help”

That’s just seven of the thousands of messages, tweets, texts and phone calls I received over the coming days & weeks. A significant number of messages offered practical and financial support, if #BIL were not to survive, and again, these were real, practical, honest offers of help to my sister’s family, should the worse happen.

If you read my previous blog about the Thistle at Euston, you will see how all the staff there, made sure that all practicalities were taken care of, in terms of families coming to London, at this awful time.

But as I say, this is a positive blog, about ‘Good People’ and how, through the use of social networking, people phoned me at home and work, not to make a small gesture of sympathy, but to actually say “I work for a brain rehabilitation center, and if I can help, please just phone me, here is my home phone number”. Lawyers (not ambulance chasers) but professionals, offered to give up their own time to help and assist, strangers offered help to a man who’s Twitter profile rambles on about toast on virgin trains !!!

On one particular visit to see #BIL in hospital, I thought it would be nice to cut & paste on to paper some of the well-wishes that were sent to me, to relay to him. I realized that when I pressed ‘print’ there were over 2000 messages that day alone.

When you read about how bad social networking is, when YOU read headlines damming this new way of communication, and all the awful stories linked to it, remember that YOU are part of why, it was made. YOU are the good side to this story.

For every wrongdoing on social networking sites, there are 20 good deeds done. And lets hope that WE, can change it in the future.

As I mentioned, I cannot comment on #BIL’s progression (for legal reasons). But I am grateful for social networks, I am grateful to YOU. YOU are not organizing riots, causing trouble, wreaking havoc, YOU are part of something special.
And this blog is for YOU. Its for YOU to receive acknowledgement, for YOU too smile at, for YOU to be proud of the fact that YOU helped a wife, mother, son, daughter, brother, sister, grandfather, grandmother, friends and family get through it.

YOU are: (in no particular order, but you know who you are)

The christian who put it on his prayer chain, to ask the Lord for help
The health worker, who provided reassurance and real life experience
The drinker, who left his last pint to think about the situation on his way home
The nurse that phoned around to ask for practical help for my sister
The medical student, who would ask his boss and let me know
The insurance man, that asked daily how could he help
The brain specialist who offered his help
The homeless adviser, who daily asked how he could help
The atheist, who said “I’ll pray too whoever”
The 18 year old lad in the pub, who left his date to tweet to ask how #BIL was

And on the list goes………………………………….. YOU are
The bloke who plays the ukulele
The bloke who plays the fool
The vicars
The car-sales man
The cat lovers & dog lovers
The bloggers
The sisters & brothers
The models
The hairdresser
The internet guru
The music producers
The food producers & food eaters
The paint sellers
The widow & the newly wed
The gay & the straight
The muslim, buddhist & hindu
The Policeman & the fireman
The people who travel
The correspondents from the BBC
The people who make you laugh
The Bolton, Wolves, Newcastle, Arsenal, Stoke, Palace, Rangers, Liverpool, Spurs, Chelsea, Everton, Fulham & all the rest of the #twitter92
The financial advisers
The F1 fans
The accountants
The guys looking for work, wanting to feed their families
The bars in Chamonix, Cheadle, London & abroad
The Photographers who are both City & United fans
The DJ’s that tweeted late at night, to check up
The sports commentator
The computer geek
The tax lawyer & the PI lawyer
The writers, the playwrights & the actors
The man who lost his child
The couple trying for a child
The chatty woman & the quite woman
The people who cook
The mums
The dads
The carers of disabled children
The Bankers (grrr)
The people who make you laugh
The skiers
The cyclist & the runner
The ones who have maturity beyond their years
The Pie makers
The Pie eaters !!!
The landlord & his regulars
The teacher & the student
The fat bloke & the thin bloke
The hotel manager
The barmaid
And yes, the City and the united fans

And the list goes on and on and on and on and on…………….

Thank you

WELCOME TO HOLLAND

As regular readers of my blogs will know, I am lucky to meet and share my job/life with some of the most amazing people that God has created.

They may be to some ‘Disabled’ to others, they are ‘uncomfortable to be be around’. But to me, they are amazing people, with a story, a life and a great example to us all. Lets remember that behind this child is a parent, a Mum, a Dad, sister, brother and a grandmother.

Some people look at the child and think “Ahh Bless..” but what about the family, how do they feel ??

This is mostly taken from Emily Kingsley. I don’t know her or her family, but I hope it gives a positive side to disabled people, their families lives, dreams and how they cope. I hope that when you read it, you see how families, like yours survive, like they always have done, but with a different set of issues than the ones you face and the good things that can come from every situation.

Having been asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability – to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience, to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It’s like this…

When you’re going to have a baby, it’s like planning a fabulous holiday to Italy.
You buy all the guidebooks and make your wonderful, thought-out plans. You will visit the Coliseum, see the Michelangelo David, You will ride the gondolas in Venice, even plan a trip to Harry’s Bar for a Bellini to celebrate the birth.
You download the app on your phone to learn some handy phrases in Italian. It’s all planned, its exciting, its all going to plan.

After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, “Welcome to Holland.”

“Holland?!?” you say. “What do you mean Holland?? I signed up for Italy! I’m supposed to be in Italy. All my life I’ve dreamed of going to Italy.”

But there’s been a change in the flight plan. They’ve landed in Holland and there YOU must stay.
The important thing is that they haven’t taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It’s just a different place.

So you must go out and buy new guide books. And you must learn a whole new language. You will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.
It’s just a different place. It’s slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you’ve been there for a while, and you catch your breath, you look around…. and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills… and Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts.

But it still remains that everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy… and they’re all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life, you will say, “Yes, that’s where I was supposed to go. That’s what I had planned.”

And the pain of that will never, ever, ever, ever go away… because the loss of that dream is a very, very significant loss.

But… if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn’t get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things … about Holland.

Next time you see me in my chair, don’t look at the floor…. Look at my parents, not in sympathy, but look at them and remember…. “We went somewhere special”

Please And Thank-You

I have just checked-in at a hotel in London, “no surprise there” you think to yourself. You will know from my previous blogs, my preferred hotel is the Thistle at Euston, but sadly (probably because of my praise for them) they were fully booked this evening.

However, whilst checking-in, something was not right. It wasn’t the absence of the familiar faces or surroundings, it was the feeling that deep down, this just didn’t feel right.

I pondered on what it was, and then like Paul on his ‘road to Damascus’, it hit me.

At no point from entering the hotel foyer to leaving with my key, was there a Hello, Please or Thank-you.

Ok, I know what your thinking, Mr Ramblings wants a smile and some courtesy does he ? Well yes I do !

I always smile, always say Please and Thank-you, it was how I was brought up.

So what’s the solution ? Do the hotel re-train the staff in their Irish head office and next time I’ll be greeted by little leprechauns saying “top of the mornin’ to ya”.

Even worse will I be met by an over enthusiastic greeting from someone who will treat me as a long lost relative, hugging and kissing me as if it’s the return of the ‘prodigal son’.

Neither actually, just a Please and a Thank-you will do for me.

I guess the moral of this story is that it’s the simple things in life that matter, and a simple thing for us all, in life and at work to remember.

Thank you for taking the time to read my blog.

I Spy With My Little Eye

Sometimes, the down-side of being a good employee is that you repay the company’s trust in you, and you go for a cheaper hotel room when supply is exceeding demand, and the hotel trade are demanding over £250 a night for a 2 or 3 star hotel. I should comment here, that since this experience which I am about to recall, I have chosen to pay the extra cost, out of my own pocket, and stay somewhere else other than the IBIS ,or as my mate calls it… “the abyss”.

Apart from the constant drone of the air-conditioning, tourists leaving 24 hours a day with their bags banging against the fire doors and not to mention the light pollution streaming through the window from the nearby station, one interesting thing happened that night which I want to share with you.

Whilst being served the ‘canteen style’ food, I had accepted that there were no nice restaurants for me to make a reservation for at this time of night, so my agenda was just to eat and get some sleep. As I remember from my youth, the school dinner ladies in the 1970’s during the famous ‘winter of discontent’ served better food than the ‘slop’ that was on offer that evening. However, this blog is about stories you hear when you’re eating on your own, and not about school dinners.

When you eat in the company of others, you are talking to friends, family, clients etc, and you listen to them, they listen to you and you focus on the people in your company. Everything else around you is just background noise and apart from a broken glass or plate, you are in your own little bubble, oblivious to other people around you. However, when you are on your own, you can only hear other people and their conversations. I’m not ‘ear-wigging’ it’s just that you hear everything around you.

The interesting thing about this meal (slop) was how I heard a conversation about how the US and UK secret services, move micro-chips with military data, in and out of their countries. It’s obvious that such data is too sensitive to send via a military plane, as if it crashed then it could fall into the wrong hands. If you DHL (other couriers are available) the parcel and it gets lost, where is it? You can’t email it, as hackers are everywhere, so perhaps a more innocent, but reliable tactic is needed to move micro-chips around the world.

The concept of families walking through a UK airport (indeed any Airport) with micro-chips in teddies is normal isn’t it ?  Let’s face it, teddy bears where one ear squeezed makes the bear say “I love you”, or if you push its tummy, and the bear says “will you be my friend” or even the dreaded nose-squeeze make it say “M.I.C.K.E.Y……M.O.U.S.E” are the norm for any 2-11 year old to carry around the globe.

However, did you know that the data on these micro-chips in the teddy’s, could also include codes for missiles, locations, agent details etc. And what is more worrying, is that I, Neil (a grumpy middle aged man) can hear these conversations about how this information is being moved. This must surely show a lack in security ? Maybe the MOD should listen to me, rather than their ‘informants’ especially when the next dossier is due anytime now about attacks during the Olympics.

Naturally, I would like an MP’s salary, pension scheme and an MP’s expenses account, even after the fall-out, and you’ll get some common sense from me.

If you see a bloke with an Irish accent, a turban, a beard, a rucksack or a Koran and then you see a Mickey Mouse teddy, ask yourself this…… “who is more likely to be, not what they seem to be”?

I hope this makes you think……..

If I post no more blogs, then I’m either in a shallow grave, or being paid ‘Shed loads of cash’ and living it-up like the MP’s, happily riding on the gravy-train of the UK government. If I survive, then I’ll blog in Part 2, about how civilians are disorientated after their time on nuclear submarines and are returned to land.