Interesting stuff when resolutions are on the table. This article talks about asking yourself what you actually want to do with your life.

This got me thinking about the extent to which certain people I know are really engaged with the legal profession. How many of us are kind of living the life and doing the work, with the feeling that “I’m not really one of these guys”? One sometimes looks at the partners, the guys who have made it in this game, and thinks, “that’s not really me, I don’t really want to end up like that, doing that”. The danger is, if you stick around too long, despite intentions to the contrary, that’s probably how you’re going to end up. If that’s the case, maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to think a little harder about what else might be out there.

Then again, another take on it might be that everyone thinks from time to time that they are different from their peers in the office and don’t really dig their job, and the idea that you can find work with which you are 100% engaged most of the time is just a load of American “Be All You Can Be” bullshit. [via evhead]

Last year's resolutions

Given that this is a time of year to take stock, I thought I'd check up on how I did with last year's efforts. 1. I am going to do 100 press-ups every day. This started well, with me doing 100 press-ups on new year's day last year. Unfortunately, that knacked my muscle groups so much that I had to desist for a few days. 363 in fact (including today). Interesting to note that on 22 June 2002, Hywel Davies completed 135 press-ups in a minute. Beating my total for the year by 35. 2. I am going to train hard and get as near as I can to a 4 minute mile. I have been running twice this year. Both being runs of about 5-6 miles. I reckon that I probably ran a 6 minute mile somewhere in the middle of that. To be honest, Roger Bannister got a lot closer to it than I did. And he's 73. 3. I am going to score at least 10 goals in competitive 11-a-side football matches. Done. I could go into each of the 14 goals I have scored this year in the London Legal League (div.2) and the Camden Sunday Football League (div. 2), but I suspect there just isn't the market for those reports. Suffice it to say, they were all cracking and I would be being hailed as the next Wayne Rooney were I not currently injured and were it not for the fact that he is 13 years younger than me.

New Year's Resolutions

Bit of a misnomer, as they never seem to resolve anything, as far as I can make out. Anyway, here's a first bash at my resolutions for 2003 (the thought being that if they're on the internet, I may take them more seriously). 1. Sunday to Thursday, I shall drink only shandy. I am aware that this may cause me to be singled out as, for want of a better phrase, a shandy-drinker, but as the alternative is lemonade on its own, I shall try this and see how it goes. 2. I shall stop making stupid semantic comments. See my first sentence above. 3. I shall do my best to achieve world peace. This may be linked to resolution #1 above. 4. I shall do my exercises before going skiing. This is so that I can actually keep up with Mrs B this year, and hence get my money's worth. The alternative is to spend the whole time in the pub. This would be an attractive proposition were it not for the fact that I would have to drink shandy, and there is only so much shandy a man can drink in one go (cf the legendary shandy pub crawl).

You great galah.

Be careful what you say

From the Washington Post, remember you can all be sacked for posting on here. I think we generally try to keep it anonymous and not related to work, but inevitably opinions are expressed from time to time that may bring the profession or various firms into disrepute, or that have not been appropriately cleared with public relations.

“although you and we view your website or weblog as a personal project and a medium of personal expression, some readers may nonetheless view you as a de facto spokesperson for the company”.

Just remember who owns you, gents.

You say paleta, I say patita

Happiness is knowing that the front leg of a meticulously reared, wined and dined iberian pig awaits you at home, primed for a gastric baptism in 2003. It measures 67 cm by 30 cm (at its widest) and is around 7cm broad, has a fine covering of linen and seems to speak to me as I pass through the kitchen. If only I knew how to respond. Check out the export possibilities here ..

It’s really annoying when CDs don’t have the track numbers down the side.

All the leaves are gone

On the bus in this morning it suddenly struck me how much light there was. All the leaves had gone from the trees, the daylight was clear and white and the bus's windows were totally clear - it was quite serene.

Had lunch in El Celestino today and the beer on tap - Super Bock - Strong continental lager. How times have changed.

Solemn Occasion

A well-known cardiologist died and was given an elaborate funeral. A huge heart covered in flowers stood behind the casket during the service. Following the eulogy, the heart opened, and the casket rolled inside. The heart then closed, sealing the doctor in the beautiful heart forever. At that point, one of the mourners burst into laughter. When confronted, he said "I'm sorry, I was just thinking of my own funeral --I'm a gynecologist." At that point, the proctologist fainted.

“Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever”

Puros

Had a revelatory experience last weekend in Tenerife, and it was called Condal No 3. In my new role as the Robin Hood of cigars I robbed two of these riches for my poor old soft tissues and I can as a result confirm that Canary Island cigars are top class. I should add that 25 of these marvels will set you back 60 sovs.

Number One

I've always really liked the song "Make Me Smile (Come Up and See Me)" by Steve Harley and Cockey Rebel. Although its a top tune, I was never sure why I liked the song so much. Until now.

The Black Sea

The Spanish are very very upset about the disaster that has taken place off the Galician coast. The anti-government "you don't know your arses from your monohulled sailing ecological bombs" reaction, however, has been muted, which when you consider that these clowns spent two days trying to tow the bugger into Portuguese waters and then, when the Porks and Cheeses told them what they thought of that, a further day dithering about whether to drop bombs on it or tow it out to sea, might strike you as surprising. Nor was the reaction rapid and efficient - the army were finally deployed this week - just one month after the disaster - and the fishermen have also had to wait four weeks for their money. (Interestingly, for all the pictures of gallant volunteers in overalls covered in oil, the footage of fishermen always seems to portray spotlessly dressed individuals waiting for the money and playing cards.) In the case of the local government the picture was even worse - the former Franco minister who remains the governor of Gallicia 27 years later went shooting as the disaster struck - near Madrid - which has not exactly endeared him to anyone.

So why are moustachio mouse Aznar and his friends getting away with it? An early attempt to pin it on the British was foiled when it transpired that although the tanker had indeed been to Gibraltar once in the last six months it had not entered the harbour let alone been repaired there. Instead the maintenance was carried out in (hushed voice) a Spanish port. Needless to say, the apology by the Spanish government for the smear did not make it onto the front page.

It's not for lack of gloaters. In fact for once, the opposition are trying to put the boot in, but to no avail - JMA simply sends the King to the beaches to state (apparently without irony) that there should be "less speech making and more support". Meanwhile, the hairy-lipped pocket despot refused to accept criticisms from a Galician politician because he was not "directly affected", leading many to question who was affected. (The general conclusion is shags, cormorants and shellfish definitely, lobsters maybe.)

All of which makes me long for the British press and its conviction that everyone is lying and/or after something all the time. Viva el cynicismo.

Although it is frikkin’ freezing here in London at the moment, maybe now is not the time to move to California. Apparently, the state’s finances have gone up the swanny.

“even if we fired every single person on the state payroll — every park ranger, every college professor and every Highway Patrol officer — we would still be more than $6 billion short”.

Christmas is nearly here, with the effect that if you like to relax by watching television that is aimed at children — e.g. the WWE; yes I know I’m sad — the ad–breaks are overloaded with cheap and tacky commercials for cheap and tacky toys that children can witter their parents for. Toy adverts are among the most irritating and crap on TV (advertising people would at this point run the “you’re not the target audience argument” — i.e there’s a reason why lager commercials seem much better — bollocks to that; lager commercials clearly are much better). Particular lowlights include:

• that Harry Potter whomping willow commercial, where the English public school vibe is built upon throughout, with a Dumbledore–esque voiceover, to be completely spoiled at the end when an American brat who looks like he has parachuted in from a 1950s toothpaste commercial cries “I warrrnn!”;
  
  
• the Bob the Builder workbench one with the irrelevant “drrr nrrrr nrrr neeeeeeerrrrrr” A–Team theme music riff at the end; and
  
  
• the Toy Master poem one, which sounds like it is being read by Brian Blessed, but reading a script whose author must have been unaware that “taster” does not rhyme with “Toymaster” and elsewhere resorted to made–up words such as “musthavity” (n. thing that one must have) to rhyme with “defy gravity”.

The one benefit of having this last ad with Blessed’s Shakespearean intonation is that I just realised that it’s Scay-elex-trick, not Scay-electrics as I thought for the last 15 years. Being thankful for other small blessings, I haven’t yet seen the hardy perennial “Rummikub” ad. I get the impression that the factory made twenty of these in 1980 and they’ve been trying to flog them off every Christmas since; truly the Ferrero Rocher of the toy industry.

Later:

Apparently, Rummikub is incredibly popular, selling 6 million sets per year. There’s obviously an underclass of people who sit around at Christmas playing it and eating Ferrero Rocher. Good luck to ’em I say. I’m writing to Father Christmas for that “I’m hungry for Hot Wheels” cyborg thing. Or a Scay-elex-trick.

Fire Service to cover for Army in Iraq

In the face of industrial action by members of the armed forces, the government has announced that the Fire Service will, as an interim measure, carry out military operations in Iraq. The army, who have demanded a 40% pay increase on the basis that their job has become rather more technical since 1945, will begin strike action next Thursday unless a compromise pay deal can be agreed in the meantime. It is understood that they will spend their time standing around little bonfires, rubbing their hands together and waving at passing vehicles who honk their horns at them.

Crack Fire Service personnel, highly trained in playing darts, brewing tea and sliding down poles, are understood to be on standby to take up front line operations. Using their “red goddess” vehicles instead of tanks, they will race towards Iraqi lines and attempt to annoy the enemy into surrendering by making a lot of noise and spraying them with water.

Prime Minister Tony Blair has already stated that the Fire Service strike of last year proved that a vastly undermanned service with limited training and unsuitable equipment can perform the duties of a well–trained, well–equipped and well–manned professional force almost as efficiently. When it was pointed out to him that the bright red fire engines might make an easy target for enemy fire, Mr. Blair said, “Never mind, we’ve got too many firemen as it is — er, is that camera running”?

In this letter to the Times, the author suggests why we should not be so depressed about our nation’s sporting performances:

“We introduced many modern sports to the world, we continue to have aspirations in most of them and this spreads our limited talent too thinly… England should challenge every nation in the world to a triple crown series, playing one match each of cricket, football and rugby”

It’s hard to think of many nations who would do much better than us in that.

Bienvenido a mi guarida subterránea

Unexpected joy last night as Austin Powers was on in Spanish. "De repente, humo empezó de salir de sus tetengas." (Suddenly smoke started coming out of their jumblies) y "Mi mola mucho nena" (Groovy baby)