Richard Bandler and Paul McKenna: Get the Life You Want, review
11 October, 2011
Wembley Great Hall, 1st and 2nd Oct 2011
You’ve probably heard of Paul McKenna (McK) right, but might not have heard of Richard Bandler. He’s something of a big guru in the world of NLP and hypnosis. A controversial character for many reasons, none of which I can be bothered to bitch on about here. His innovative techniques for phobias, metaphorical language and personal change, I’ve used with success. I’ve never seen him because his training seminars are way out of my price range. I have read some of his books one of which “A Guide to Trance-formation” I rate highly as a guide to learning hypnosis – if you ever want to. Overall, I didn’t really know what to think, other than he’s got quite a dedicated fan club who dangle on his every hypnotic syllable (eugh). So when the chance to see him for two days for £188 arrived in my inbox I took it, well I bought it from NLP Life actually. Most of his training seminars cost thousands of pounds to attend (hence I haven’t done any of them) and this seemed (comparatively) a good deal.
In terms of “getting the life I wanted”, well when I booked this seminar I have to admit I didn’t really think that was something I particularly needed. I’ve been feeling pretty happy with my life for a while now. I do struggle to understand the pseudo spiritual culture rife at the moment like “The Secret” where the goal of life is – getting what you want. If I was leading a seminar it would be called “Want the life you’ve already got” (and no one would come). The real “secret” of a lot of this bull is about giving people unattainable dreams and then convincing them they can have them. Then if they aren’t able to attain that dream (because it’s totally unrealistic and implausible and unachievable) then the problem is that they didn’t “believe” in it enough to make it happen. So it’s their own stupid fault they’ve failed again. I think there are kinder ways of seeing the world than this. To be honest, I think it’s probably better for people if you just cut out the middle bit and told them at the start that the “Secret” is it’s all their own fault. I think if you did it in a slightly mystical way with some soft music and a faraway look in your eye then it could be really effective. I’ll try it out on people over the next couple of weeks and let you know how it goes. Maybe in the playground, next time one of my mum chums comes to complain about her husband leaving dirty clothes on the bathroom floor, I can go into a slightly altered state and tell her that I “feel” (because a lot of this stuff runs on how we “feel” about things), yes, I feel that ultimately she is creating this situation and that only she can resolve it (because there is no longer any such thing as “fault” only incomplete solutions).
Ok, so you can see that I wasn’t the most ideal candidate for this seminar, but by the time it actually came round, I have to say I was feeling pretty uncertain about some of the decisions I was making about my future. I’d lost my mojo somewhere around early August and blamed it on six weeks of holidays with my three darlings at home (what to speak of two weeks in a tent with them). But it wasn’t really true, I had properly lost my mojo and didn’t know where or how to get it back. I was happy enough, but just not as sparkly as I normally feel. For example, I’d look at my blog and just not write it, even though I used to love it. So I was sort of curious by the time it came round to see if it would help me, or if it would fill me with impossible dreams and then leave me on Sunday evening, waiting for a tube in the rain with big fantasy umbrella keeping me dry – if you know what I mean.
The first thing about the seminar that made a real impression on me was that McK opened it alone. Yep, Bandler hadn’t bothered to get out of bed for 1,300 people (at an average price of £270 pp). Unbelievable. None of the “Hi, it’s like really lovely of you all to be here, this is gonna be so fabulous” etc etc ad nauseum. I had to admit I sort of liked it him for it. I mean how many of us sit through all sorts of shite just for the social nicety of it all. Bandler didn’t. I think I was envious as I was sitting through yet another McK enactment of his dream life as Sean Connery. (He obviously hasn’t seen Megamind yet).
McKenna smoking during the break
I think it went a bit like this the night before:
Bandler: “Fuck it, McKenna you do the fucking morning, I’m not getting out of bed and driving all the way to fucking Wembley till I’ve had my fucking brunch.”
McK: “Er, ok, I’ll warm them up using my rather fabulous James Bond persona. The natural charm and confidence I adopt will spread good feelings through the audience and……”
Bandler (interrupting) : “Do what the fuck you like, make them cluck like fucking chickens but don’t expect me there before 3pm”.
McKenna: “Ok M, leave it to me, ”.
Bandler: “What did you fucking call me?”
McK : “Nothing”
So McKenna did the morning.
Now I have to say I’ve seen McK a few times in the past. The first time I saw him he was in a really bad mood. I don’t know what was up with him – he was living the Bond life he wanted after all. Wearing a Bond suit, telling the time on a Bond watch, driving a Bond car, planning his career with a real life Money Penny; and dating Bond girls – who turn in psychos and stab him in the back – hey what more could a guy want? Anyway, I went to his I can make you thin event a few times, I bought tickets, I won tickets, I couldn’t get away. And I couldn’t get thin either.
Ok, so let’s get back to Bandler, when he eventually got up and had brunch (he’s American and I believe they all have brunch every day; then hot dogs with yellow mustard in the afternoon when they’re doing their police jobs; then they have dinner somewhere swanky in the evening. Trust me, I’ve seen it ont’elly). He managed to spur himself towards our event and arrive mid afternoon. No rush, no rush. Then he proceeded to tell outrageously funny (and seemingly embellished) stories of inventive therapy sessions he’d conducted. Couldn’t help but like his stories and his irreverential style. During all this he was spinning something called “nested loops”. It’s a hypnotic technique where you begin a story and then digress with another story, and another etc building different levels within each story. Then you do some subliminal work on the clients (us) and close the stories one by one in the right order. Well, that’s how Bandler teaches it, but it’s certainly not how he does it himself. I have to say many of the loops were not closed and I have no idea what the hell he was doing with them all over the place. But I sure felt good by the end of the day and felt like he actually gave a shit about people’s mental well being. This was also reflected in the imaginative and kind work he did with people on the stage. Humble he is not, but skilled he certainly is.
On the second day there was an interesting exercise with McK where we looked at our values and from there our goals (yes, yawn, is there anyone who hasn’t done that a thousand times before), but then we put them on a time line and played around with them on there. A timeline is an imaginary line depicting your life in chronological time. You can move stuff around on it, change things and do interesting stuff with it therapeutically. Anyway, eventually we went to the end of our lines (metaphorically our old age) and looked back over the part we’d been planning with our values etc and checked we were happy with it. McK, then asked a few people in the audience about theirs. Now a lot of the audience were NLPers (you can tell cos they look like estate agents. “Height phobia Madam? I want you to imagine yourself in a low lying bungalow in Southend, feel how big the rooms are, notice how small and grey the price appears, would you like a viewing?”). So, from the audience we got all the typical I want, I want, I wants. There were famous writers, famous musicians, famous filmmakers and famous photographers (notice a theme anyone?). Fine.
But as I looked down my own timeline there wasn’t anything famous on it. I saw myself responsibly bringing up three children on my own, who I love. I saw myself working as a hypnotherapist, which I love. And I saw myself spending an inordinate amount of time getting a science degree from the Open University, which I will love. Nothing sexy, glamorous, award winning, rich or famous along this line. But as I looked back from my old age perspective I felt an incredibly powerful sense of well being, I felt the reward of being responsible to my children, the joy of helping people with their problems and the challenge of study. And I felt an incredible sense of simple satisfaction that I’d spent those years of my life on those things. And to be honest, there’s something a bit priceless about feeling that good about the life you’re living; the one you’re already actually living, not an imaginary life that you wish you had. And right at that moment, I realized I’d found my mojo again.
Paul McKenna
Richard Bandler
The other good news is that I’ve picked up my blog and started writing (obviously) and begun to manically walk everywhere I go. I’ve stopped over-eating and one week after the seminar have lost 5lbs. I have also more strangely found myself doing stomach crunches at 5am in the living room before going back to bed (!!). I don’t know if it was Bandler or McK, but I have to say, I’m really glad I went along.
Bye xx
Akram Khan Dance Company: Desh
10 October, 2011
Saddler’s Wells Theatre, Oct 2011
DESH 
Akram Khan’s latest offering to the contemporary dance world is truly the sort of thing you see once in a lifetime. Ok, that’s overlooking the fact that it’s coming back to Saddler’s Wells next year – so you’ll be able to see it once in your lifetime as well as me.
The most amazing thing about it is the feeling of honesty and love. I don’t mean that in a “luvvie” type of way. He takes us on what initially appears to be his journey from growing up a standard British “youf” bickering with his Pakistani father. But as the story unfolds, it’s his father’s journey that becomes the deeper storyline in Desh. Touching it is too. Within this we are both transported right into the midst of a traditional fairy tale and then challenged with reality of Pakistani child workers – working for us.. Well, you can’t say he didn’t fit a lot in, can you?
If the story telling is magical, then the visual feast of Khan at his most creative and beautiful dancing us through it is more than breathtaking. The other lovely thing about Khan is that he doesn’t desert his sense of humour when spinning his silken yarns. I laughed and cried during this performance. The amazing visual effects, designed by Timmy Yip (Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon) enable Khan to climb animated trees and dance through the sky, proper dancing with the stars it was. It’s spell binding. All of the animated “front drops” he uses were hand sketches, every few seconds requiring thousands of drawings, and the animated scene lasts at least ten minutes. The work behind it is staggering. I sat and watched and couldn’t really believe the beauty unfolding on the stage in front of me.
Joscelyn Pook (Eyes Wide Shut, Massive Attack) composed the music, and interesting and haunting blend of vocals often mixed with ecclesiastical undertones, this turns Khan’s piece into a truly multidimensional masterpiece.
I first saw Khan some twelve years ago, then a talented classical Indian dancer in the Kattak school. He would dance and at the end his Guru (teacher) would stand up and accept the applause. I didn’t see his Guru last night, although he might well have been there. But what I did see, was how Khan’s early roots have stood him in good ground for all that grown out of him since. He has kept the grace of his early performances, despite being 37 (aged in the world of dance) and kept the dignity and respect of the culture he was trained in. Although now in his dancing we have occasional glimpses of his traditional pieces – I have to say I find his newer work fresher and speaks louder to us, his generation.
To sit in the theatre and watch Desh is like an amazing dream or what an acid trip should be but isn’t. Informative, beautiful, unreal, meaningful and moving. Take a Khan trip once in your lifetime, go on try it, but beware you might get addicted.
Crazy Sexy Gym
31 January, 2011
I have found the ultimate gym experience. Before you ask, no, it’s not on YouTube or anything remote where you don’t actually have to move your body. It’s a real life, get off your arse and move around gym.
Ok, it’s not a gym, but nearly. There are a few little differences, my Crazy Sexy Gym beats a traditional gym hands down on all the differences.
The first thing about Crazy Sexy Gym is it’s not called IRON BOLLOCKS, it’s actually called “Curves”. You know, curves, like on a real body that goes in and out. I’m just beginning to work on the “in” bits, but I’ve got all the “outs” nicely sorted, so I’m halfway to the perfect body already, which is why I’m not even going to call it “Curves”, but Crazy Sexy Gym.
Crazy Sexy Gym has a circuit of exercise machines, about ten of them, with some aerobic (sprung) boards in between them. The idea is that you work your way round this circuit 
three times. You carry a little electronic tag which you plug into each machine. This tag sets the machines to your individual resistance and off you go, a full body work out takes 30 minutes. The really brilliant thing about this is that every time I think to myself, “I hate this, I totally hate this and I can’t carry on,” a recorded voice says “change stations now”, indicating that my full 30 seconds on that machine is over and it’s time to do 30 seconds on the next machine. Cool isn’t it?
The ambience of Crazy Sexy Gym is unlike your normal sweaty, pushy, gym. As you work your way around the circuit you will converse with the other women there. (Did I mention it was women only?) The discussions are about holidays, shopping, puddings, the amazing sale on at Evans etc. This goes on for the entire duration of your workout, you will be breathless by the end, but you’ll know everything that’s happened in Corrie and EastEnders (but not Holyoaks). One of the reasons I joined Crazy Sexy Gym was that when I did my trial workout, everyone else in there was at least 25 years older than me. As I jogged heavily on the sprung boards for 30 seconds, they made comments to each other like “Oh, it’s wearing me out just looking at her” and “It’s alright when you’re young.” I felt like I was on a Cindy Crawford exercise DVD or on in a wet Baywatch swimsuit. I hadn’t felt that fit in years; that’s a pretty good start I thought, so I joined.
Compare that to last time I was in a proper gym (I mean exercising, not using the loos). I was ambling power walking on the treadmill when some 26 yr old, size 8 pentathlete started sprinting right next to me. I was trying to watch 60 Minute Makeover on the flat screen at the time. (Have you seen it? It’s where a load of people ransack your house in the name of home improvement. But, they only spend 60 minutes doing all the renovations. So literally like 30 people charge in, paint the rooms, refit your carpets, replace major appliances and install a new kitchen. Then when the buzzer goes, indicating they have fulfilled their 60 minutes of unskilled destruction, they stop and leave it exactly as it is. Personally, I can see a few problems with this methodology, but they’ve never shown the owners crying and the house falling down, so it must all be ok). Where was I ? Watching daytime TV as a skinny, fit, thin bird sprinted a quick marathon next to me. Now, one thing I know about a lot of these “perfect” body types is that they are actually desperately insecure about how they look and genuinely think they’re fat and ugly. I considered sweetly saying; “Excuse me, I don’t mean to be rude, but do you realise your fat legs are thumping your feet so hard on the treadmill that I can’t hear this show?” But she wouldn’t have heard me as she had some cool music on her iPod frying her Crazy Empty Head. So instead, I decided to leave. I stopped walking and next thing I knew I was lying on the floor behind the treadmill.
Another interesting thing about Crazy Sexy Gym is the changing rooms. Apparently, they let the members decide what facilities they wanted. The members opted for a kitchen rather than showers, which says a lot really doesn’t it? Personal hygiene is taken seriously though and there is a free supply of wet wipes and deoderants for everyone to use. Believe it or not, no one nicks them either. The changing rooms are carpeted not tiled so there’s no danger of a fall. Instead of ugly metal lockers, they have nice little pine cubby holes, each one filled with a pair of very white trainers. There’s a pair with big labels in the soles saying “Susan Whitingale”, I’ve found they fit me the best.
Typical changing room at Curves.
So, now for the science. They weigh and measure you once a month. I worked out there twice a week for the first month, half an hour each time. Then I had a month off with Xmas and heavy snow. When they finally measured me, I’d lost 4 inches over my body. That’s including an inch of my stomach, half an inch of each thigh and one off my boobs (but you’d never know it). And I hadn’t even been for a month. Pretty amazing I think.
You know what they say, you can’t argue with success.
Can’t recommend it higher than that. Cost is £34 a month, give Crazy Sexy Gym a go.
Byeeeeee x
Winning with Words
30 July, 2010
I won a poetry writing competition today. I’ve been entering writing competitions to see if my writing rated as any good, outside of my little cyber blog-bubble. I figured if I could win competitions in the “real” world of writers, then I’d have a chance of becoming a “real” writer one day. So now I am pleased to announce that overnight success is finally mine, but I’m trying not to affect me too much – for now. I know you’re not interested in just how many competitions I’ve entered and lost prior to this unprecedented recognition of my talent, so I won’t bore you with the statistics, also, it’d take too long. Should I mention I wasn’t the only “winner” and tell you about the other entrants? Nah, you wouldn’t be interested.
The poem is a broody introspective offering a glimpse of the relationship between (wo)man and beast. The struggles we all face between our instinctive “wild” self, the constraints of 
domesticity, the shackles of our social conformity and the limited joy that it brings the individual. It challenges our perspectives of death and reality, torture and forgiveness.
My poetry can be best described by the words that describe the film Inception, “in the dangerous art of extraction, stealing valuable secrets from deep within the subconscious during the dream state, when the mind is at its most vulnerable.” However, the book which my poem will appear is actually themed around animals.
Humbly, I offer you my poem.
xxx
We Love Little Creatures
My lovely boy called Bugsy,
Now he’s a real top cat.
He bounces on the trampoline,
Not many cats do that.
His voice is like a humans
When he says “hello” to me.
He tolerates the children,
They’re rough with him you see.
The dogs next door, he winds them up,
He sits there like a tease.
They chase him up and down the lawn,
Then he runs off with ease
In the garden he’s a hunter,
Out there he stalks his prey.
My little friend the Robin,
Disappeared sometime today.
This evening before supper,
I found him lying dead.
His tiny tortured torso,
A gift left on my bed.
Oh Bugsy you’re a good boy,
Your instinct can’t be beaten.
But all the cute things in my garden,
You’ve caught and then you’ve eaten.
I guess we’ll stick together,
Yes, I want you to stay.
You share my love of little creatures,
Just in a different way.
Forward Press, Animal Antics Competition
Copies of the book are available for £15.99 (!)
Bugsy
Dutchess of Skid Row
23 May, 2010
I have three of the “oh my god” children here wreaking havoc for the day. With mine, there are six kids under eight in my fairly negligent care. My neighbour, has very kindly, just added chicken wire to the gate to stop them escaping, keep them safe in the garden.
My current number of godchildren is nine, for no good reason. I haven’t got any money to lavish on them, let alone leave them in a generous will. They get some (god) motherly tough-love and a share in a dvd at Xmas. Sometimes, I remember some of their birthdays and, if there’s special offer on in Poundland, they might even get a present. I’m thinking of declining any further god kid applicants, (and handing out free condoms to my friends).
A mum from school said, “Nine, that’s like Royalty”. Yup, I’m sure you’re thinking, Princess Grace of Monaco, I know. But, believe it or not, I could be a lot more Fergie – inappropriate humour used to make situations that are bad, far worse. I read an article on her this week in the Daily (it must be true) Mail. She is apparently on skid row again since she lost her job running a Weight Watchers meeting. Although, during the interview, she bought the £1,300 chair she was sitting in, as a spontaneous present for a friend. Her latest business venture went into liquidation owing £600,000, plus £200,000 to her solicitors and a few others who are owed smaller sums (like £20k).
Now, I always quite admired how Fergie survived the 80s and 90s. I’m not normally one to knock someone when they’re down. But the woman does get £250k a year from her ex-husband. On top of that she earned £2 million A YEAR representing Weight Watchers. Is this really the ex-princess who went into a “deprived” housing estate to help normal people get their lives together? I can’t believe no one thought of pitching that show the other way round? Normal hard working people, show hopelessly out of touch ex royal, how to manage her life and live on under £2.25 million a year.
It would go something like this:
Common (sense) bloke: Don’t worry luv, I’ll help you. I can teach you a bit of common sense with money. How much do you spend a year right now on non essentials?
Skint Fergie: I only spend on essentials. Nothing else.
CsB: Ok, then, how much is yer mortgage?
SF: My more gauge? Quite high, I suppose, about ½ a mill.
CsB: Half a mill, great, I used to work in’t mill. How many ton of flour do you get through a year?
SF: Well, I had to cut the cakes right down when I worked for Weight Watchers. But I have to admit, with all this stress, it’s gone up a quite a bit .
CsB: . So that’s in full productions, great. And you say you worked at Weight Watchers?
SF: They let me go.
CsB: Too fat?
SF: No. I was made redundant and since then, I’ve spiralled into a bit of debt.
CsB: Easy to do if yer not working. Do you get any support from that ex husband of yours?
SF: Two fifty a year.
CsB:. Well that won’t go very far. I’m sure it helps, with little extras though, like clothes and shoes.
SF: That’s exactly what I told him.
CsB: What about benefits, are you entitled to any?
SF: I get a lot of criticism about this. But yes, I take all the benefits I can get and that’s basically what keeps me going.
CsB: Aye, it’s hard surviving on benefits. What about family, do you get any help there from your parents or your in-laws?
SF: None. My side are poor polo players. His family live the life of royalty, but they won’t help me.
CsB: That’s terrible. Do you need help with housing? Where do you live?
SF: My ex husband was left a house by his granny. I’m in his spare room.
CsB: You don’t have to live like that luv. I’ll get you on the housing list. But, you’ll have to go into B&B for a few weeks.
SF: What? A hotel? That would be amazing.
CsB: Well, it might be a bit hard, but it’s just for a few weeks.
SF: Oh fabulous. Be a darling and book me for Mustique.
CsB: Don’t be daft luv, you can’t go to focking Spain.
Come on Sarah; how many people have your sort of disposable income, with no overheads? For now, just stop promoting yourself as a role model and guru of social change. Focus on strengthening your tenuous link with the real world first.
Girl, get a grip.
I'll never give up, (my Harrod's gold card).
Letter of Complaint: Clairvoyants
15 May, 2010
Hi,
I’ve found a brilliant writing competition called “Letter of Complaint”. The idea is that each month you submit your letter(s) of complaint to their website, about whatever you like. It has to have truth to it, and be written as if it were a real letter. Then people vote on the best one and the winner gets a massive £30 – for doing a bit of moaning. Of course I entered it.
But the thing was, that they didn’t post my letter of complaint. So then I had to send another letter of complaint to them, complaining about their letter of complaint website, and the fact that I was robbed of my fair crack at the £30 prize. They didn’t post that letter on their site either.
So, I thought instead, we could just play it ourselves – obviously, without the £30 prize. (Although, I’ve still got a tin of marrotfat peas left over from my “Wow! How does he do it?” competition).
Here’s how it works:
You write your letter of complaint, about something true and then tag five people to do it too. Then stick a link to your letter in “my comments” so my readers can find you. This is open to anyone with enough time on their hands to play. If you want to play and don’t have a blog, send it by email and make me laugh.
My tags are Potty Diaries , Nixdminx, Slummy Single Mummy and Crystal Jigsaw. I was going to tag Pants with Names, but she’s beaten me to it and has already posted several entries. Talk about competitive – it’s only a tin of marrowfat peas for god’s sake.
bye xxx
Here’s my letter of complaint:
Dear Clairvoyants,
Re: My future.
I am writing to complain about the predictions I have received from clairvoyant services in 2007/8. The delay in this letter was due to my eagerness to believe that these predictions would come true. But, I have to admit that I am a little disappointed with the general accuracy on a number of points. Specifically:
- I trusted your prediction that I would have a child in five years time. Thus, when my stomach began to swell, I assumed it was bloating and defied the Doctors who told me I was having a baby. I was wrong and so were you.
- My husband did not leave his lover and return to me. Having been advised by you not to accept him upon his return, I would also like to say just how disappointing it has been to write, and rehearse, my rejection speech for three years and find no opportunity to use it.
- I have not had a dramatic life changing event, which has propelled me into an exciting new career path. Nor have I moved into the large family home (with stables) that this opportunity would afford me.
- Despite keeping an eye on my finances in September, the additional income did not materialise in my bank account. I also checked the kid’s money boxes regularly, again with no result. In fact, I would say that the coin jar has less in it now than ever before.
- None of the men who you said would be fighting for my affection have materialised. Nor have I accidently bumped into a man called Joe, who works with the homeless, nor have I met his child from a previous marriage. Although I have met several men called Joe in the past couple of years, I have not instantly recognised any of them as my soul mate, nor fallen passionately in love with them.
- I think that in fairness, I should have been given some warning about meeting Robin Tobin online. I think at least it should have been mentioned that he would be trying for a baby with three women, unbeknown to me, while we were dating. This information was in fact gleaned from his Facebook page, something I would expect your “insight” to have picked up on.
- I was told I am psychic and I should practise doing psychic readings on others. My psychic advice, on how friends should live their lives, has been far from well received. I have found time and again, that the exact opposite has come to pass.
- Although I regard my two sons highly, neither one of them has yet shown the “greatness” you said would be self evident. Of course they are still young, but even I have to admit, the signs so far seem to indicate they are “normal”, rather than prodigious.
- I am not running a multi national company employing hundreds of people. While I am very busy from day to day, my role would still largely be defined as “stay at home mother.”
- I am neither, thin, rich, in love or living out my life’s wildest dreams – except when I am asleep.
In light of these inaccuracies concerning my life’s course and events, I feel compelled to write and complain. I predict that you will send me a full refund for the fees I was charged in 2007/8.
Yours sincerely,
A. Sucker
13th Oct 2010
Just a little update on Robin Tobin, here’s what his former business partners posted about him on the net.
http://www.snowbooks.com/weblog/2010/10/announcement.html#more
——
24/11/ 2011 Update:
I think it’s only fair that I publish Robin Tobin’s side of the story (as he’s written threatening me with legal action because of that link). Basically, he says it’s not true all the stuff about (yawn) Onyx Central. (Although he says nothing about trying for a baby with all those women at the same time?!). I’m not in a position to say whether the business stuff is or it isn’t true, so only fair to put both sides on here. xxx
He writes:
“Dear Hari,
Re: Robin Tobin/Onix Central Limited/Snowbooks Limited
The publication: http://www.snowbooks.com/weblog/2010/10/announcement.html#more.
The above link on your blog links to material that is both a lie and defamatory. Your linking is republishing for the purposes of defamation.
More specifically the software that was created whilst working with Emma Barnes is neither (or was ever the property of Onix Central Limited (Company No. 06785801). And was not “pirated”; copied or otherwise any breach of any intellectual copyright.
The blog post: http://thankyouforthedays.co.uk/2010/05/15/letter-of-complaint-clairvoyants/ is a republication.
Your republication has caused consequential loss.
If you have a legal representative who you would wish to deal with this matter going forward please forward their details.
Yours sincerely,
Robin Tobin”
It’s been a tense past few days in Witney. A lot of intense negotiations around the town. Who was telling the truth? Well how should I know? But my gut instinct told me I had to find out. These are hard economic times and big mistakes can have long term consequences. Sure, there were a few fraught moments when, frankly, I thought I couldn’t trust myself, I’m just a mum, I have no in depth knowledge of such worldly things. Who am I to question the powerful prevailing forces in this town? But that’s the way life goes, just as you abandon all hope, things click into place and it all comes together.
Only a week ago, I was standing outside a garage in Witney crying at the forecast written down infront of me. It was going to take billions of pounds to keep my car on the road and get it through the MOT it had just failed. What could I do?
The man in the garage had helpfully spread doom and gloom about the difficulty of finding the right parts, and the utter impossibility getting them delivered anytime soon. I felt like the owner of a vintage Rolls Royce Silver Ghost, rather than the Skoda Fabia I’d driven in. As I sat in the car, sad and stressed, I read down the list of “Fails”; suspension, bushes, lights, lights cluster, then a strange thought crossed my mind. “What if this was just another rip-off piss-take of a vulnerable and defenceless woman? Then I thought, “Even if she weren’t vulnerable and defenceless, it could still be a rip off. What if my car was actually ok?” I ran with it.
Actually, I drove with it, all the way to my local garage and showed them the fail. They started crying. For them, having spent so much time caring for my car over the past few months, this was akin to seeing your child trip over in a bridesmaid dress, and arrive at the church plastered in mud. It just couldn’t be happening.
So Steve, my local mechanic, kicked a few of my tyres and peered at my light cluster and after this mechanical inspection he announced; “Ders nufin wrong wiv dat car”. Then in his professional capacity he advise me to, “Get it redone at Olly’s. He’ll pass it. That garage is a prick, for failing that.” Ours minds were one (briefly). He called Steve over, (both mechanics are called Steve, but only one of them can drive). After a several minutes of discussion about bookings and slots etc., where they both attempted to remember what was on the calendar, without walking six feet to look at it, they agreed on Thursday.
Thursday morning it went in a failure, and Thursday afternoon it came out the proud owner of it’s MOT. If I were one of those mums who kept my kids certificates for swimming, reading, breathing etc., then for sure, this one would be up on display with the rest of them.
However, my Fabia’s outstanding achievement also left me with the predicament of the dodgy first MOT, I had now paid for the test twice. So I rang rip-off garage. (I should clarify, this absolutely wasn’t the local Skoda dealer. Last time I went in there, they told me I needed the engine completely stripped and rebuilt for emissions output. Steve’s comment that time was “Dats total bollocks”).
I enthusiastically let rip-off garage know just how well my car had done in today’s MOT, hoping they’d be happy for me. Not wanting to be unfair about the situation, I left it up to them to decide to refund me or be reported to Trading Standards. I told them to think about it and give me a ring back. It was strange how quiet the man at the other end went. I don’t know him, but I’d guess he doesn’t talk to many assertive women. Anyway, he obviously really liked me, because he eagerly called back within five minutes. He said that although MOT is a matter of the “opinion” of a mechanic, (rather than a rigid set of requirements for you car to be on the road). And because they didn’t like having dissatisfied customers, (so kind of them to think of me), in light of these two things, they would give me a full refund.
How very sweet of them.
Then with consumer power pulsing through my veins, I went to the village hall and voted in the General Elections. I forgot to stay up and see who’d won the Witney seat though.
Bye xxx
How to: travel by car with kids
13 April, 2010
The best advice I can share with you, if you are going on a long car journey with children, is take a map. My second tip would be to make sure the pages you need are still in that map. Having recently zig zagged my way from N. Yorkshire back to Oxfordshire “freehand”, believe me, when I say that £2.99 for a map is a good deal.
My next tip is make sure you have enough money in your bank account to pay for sweets and petrol. Let’s just say, er hypothetically, your card didn’t work in a service station a long way from home. Would you know what to do? So, be sensible and plan ahead before disaster strikes. Make sure you have the numbers of all the people most likely to lend you money stored in your mobile phone.
If you have an unreliable car and you’re making a long journey it’s worth joining the AA/RAC and investing in Relay. This can save you hundreds of pounds and make the journey a lot more peaceful for you and the children. We had some friends who lived in a very unreliable van. They lived in it in a field in Oxford during the winter, and in a similar way in Devon during the summer. Each year, when spring arrived, they would simply push their van onto the road and ring AA Relay. The AA man would ask them where they were going, “Devon”, and then he’d tow them all the way there. In the Autumn, they’d push the van onto a road in Devon and again call the kindly people at AA. Guess what would happen? You got it; they’d get towed all the way back to Oxford. It saved them a fortune in petrol and repairs, what to speak of the stress of long distance driving.
One of my pet hates on long car journeys is the kids whining. There are many ways you can curtail this nightmare. Bringing along interactive games such as Nintendo DS or car Scrabble is a good idea for kids of a certain aptitude. Investing in a portable DVD player and a bunch of mind-numbing Disney films works well for everyone else. Or for those who home school, it can be fun to pass hours of a long journey making up your own games. Such as what’s the square root of the sum of the number plate on the car in front? Personally, when it comes to whining in the car, I tend to stick with a little technique I remember my mum using on us. As soon as I hear the first bleats of discontent, I simply lean over and face them in back seat. Then shout over them until they shut up. I’ve found that on-coming traffic blast their horns if I’ve accidently swerved across the road, or one of the kids will point a finger and open their mouths in a silent scream. Then I know it’s time to end the lesson of the day and concentrate on driving.
Another difficulty on long car journeys is how, what and when to feed them. If you stuff them with a cooked breakfast before you leave, will they go longer between meals, or will it end up regurgitated all over your upholstery? (Top tip: bicarbonate of soda, used like shake n’ vac, is the only thing that gets the smell of sick out of car seats). Or do you go till lunchtime, then have a good break and let them run off a bit of steam before getting back in the car? Well, if Service Stations were designed by anyone who had ever traveled with kids, they would be jam packed with nicely fenced playgrounds. They are not. They are jam packed with expensive gimmicky toys and rip-off rubbish food. What to speak of a car park full of F1 apprentice drivers and no footpaths. A stop at a service station is not for the feint hearted. The alternative option is to pack a picnic and eat as you drive. The good thing about this method is that the kids can eat on demand. Obviously most of the food and drink will end up spilt all over the car seats and mashed into the interior. Personally, I prefer this done on the way into their mouths – than on the way out, so this is my chosen option.
Take plenty of fruit on long journeys
Finally, the greatest time waster on a never ending car journey is loo breaks. These often occur about ten minutes after you’ve got into the car, or five seconds after you’ve joined a motorway. Ignore them at your peril (bicarb does work on pee smells too). There is not much you can do about children’s bladders. They somehow shrink to the capacity of a miniature liqueur bottle as soon as they get in a car. With younger children, they can sometimes be bribed into a nappy for a journey. Boys can often pee accurately into an Evian bottle, (just make sure it’s not accidently put in the picnic bag). I’ve found that by explaining we will arrive at our destination in time for lunch without toilet breaks. Or, we will arrive in time for bed if we continue to stop every ten seconds, has helped my children get a grip on their bladders. The record for toilet stops goes to one of my god children who made us stop fifteen times on an 80 mile journey back from the seaside. That’s every five miles. Each time we stopped, he managed to wee about a pint and a half (and stand in it). You-the-man, K.
Are we there yet?
Saving money…….on food
1 March, 2010
So a few people have asked me to blog about money saving. By this, they mean “Oh god Hari, how can I spend less on essential outgoings in my life, like food?. Rather than “Do you know the best offshore interest rate I can get on my spare spondoolicks?”
Anyone in need of the former, this is for you. Anyone in need of the latter, email me a photo and a list of your hobbies and favourite interests – would it be a surprise if we had, like, loads of stuff in common and we just hit it off right away?
I’m going to do a different money saving subject each week time I get round to blogging. For the first one, I’m concentrating on ways we can save money on our food bills. One of my favourite quotes on this subject was by a very chic French woman in a Sunday magazine. I’ve no idea who she was – one of those arty farty someones they make out is really important in the scheme of life. Her wisdom for the world was…… wait for it;
“ I stay thin by not eating.”
Lets call that tip no 1 shall we as it’s also a really cheap way to save money on your food bill.
2. Eating your cupboards down. So this means that we all go shopping all the time and buy loads of the same stuff each week mostly out of habit. Our food cupboards (and freezers) get rammed with stuff we can’t remember, let alone eat. So you have to stop shopping in that unconscious state of mind and start cooking what you already have. You have to actually run out of stuff. You will find that you have a lot more food than you expected and you can really massively reduce your shopping bill for a few days,/a fortnight/couple of years while you consume your very own food mountain.
Just imagine if everyone’s granny decided to eat through their chest freezers, or better still turn them off. Have scientists never thought of this simple plan to counteract global warming? I bet I could win an environmental competition with this suggestion – “Reduce carbon emissions by 20 million emission-thingys and win a free eco holiday in South America (sponsered by Virgin Atlantic).”
Anyway, if I don’t win it’s probably because
There's nothing to eat....
finding new fuels to run jet engines, genetically engineering a methane free cow or developing complex carbon capture technology is all a darn site easier than getting a pensioner’s chest freezer out of their garage.
I seem to have veered off into global warming solutions. Lets get back to where we were. So you have journeyed to the back of your food cupboards and through the whiteness of the freezer and found all sorts of stuff frozen in time. Now just how old is it – what if there is no sell by date? Tricky this one. My personal opinion on sell by dates is, if it’s got sugar and cocoa in the ingredients it will last long enough to be eaten. With anything else my policy is do get some advice from your most environmentally friendly friends. Ask them something like, “Will it help the planet more, to check through my out of date food and eat anything consumable, or throw it away and buy more?” Listen carefully to what they say and then pass them your bag of unrecognizable out of date food. This should be done with an attitude of great magnanimity, as you were giving a bottle of vintage champagne for a special birthday. Tell them that you would have eaten it yourself but you so admire how committed they are to their ethics. And leave in a rush saying you’ll have to go because Tesco online are due to deliver at your place any minute.
Next, write down your meals for the week and ONLY buy that stuff. Put your meal list on the fridge where you can see it and remember it. This will save you the agony of going “Urgh, what shall we have tonight?” and financially it will save you about £20 a week for a family and about £90 a week if you live alone.
Read the deals in the stores and work out which one is the cheapest. So either use the calculator on your phone or do it in your head. I do this a lot. Didn’t know I was that tight clever did you? It amazes me how often the stuff on sale is not the cheapest stuff at all. The supermarkets do silly little tricks to stop you working out what they’re up to. So they’ll price all the carrots in 500g, apart from the ones which are priced in 125g. This is really simple maths and makes the supermarket experience a bit more interesting. Try it. You can also apply this to reductions in sales, I’ve found loads of wrongly marked down stuff so it’s worth checking. Doing this each time you shop will save you £120 because you won’t need a Nintendo DS and the Brain Trainer game.
Value or Basic products: These are not always good value for money. I buy them but not all of them. They are great for things like hummus and cashews, but if you buy fruit check it well. Often Value fruit is just crap. I’ve found that Value pears rot before they ripen. To me this means they are irradiated and so there is probably little if any vitamin content in them anyway. Value strawberries are often about ten minutes from being unusable. So by the time you get them home it may be too late. I suggest you eat them in the supermarket. Spit any over-ripe ones back into the box and put them back on the shelf when you’re done. No one will know.
Stay out of large supermarkets. Go for mid sized ones where you can get everything you need but not all the additional extras the big stores sell. This will save you a fortune by reducing the amount of crap you pick up but don’t need. My top supermarket is currently Lidl. It is the Skoda of supermarkets – don’t knock it till you’ve tried it. Check out the
The holy land
British fruit and veg which costs about 1/3 or that in Sainsburys or about 10% of the price of anything in a farm shop. I really do think you are buying better quality in Lidl than the basics range in Sainsburys or Tescos. One of my friends did a basket comparison between her Lidl shop and Sainsburys basics range. She had saved £18 on her week’s shopping by going to Lidl and got much better quality stuff, quite a lot of organic. That’s after saving the £20 by writing down what she actually needed.
Look in different places in the supermarket for the same products at different prices. They really do this. A great example of this is cashew nuts. You can buy them bagged up as “health food” – really expensive. Or, you can buy them in the cookery section bagged up as “ingredients”, expensive. Then you can also find them in the crisp section – as fatty junk food, getting cheaper and then you can even find Value cashews, yes cheapest of all, but still a cashew nut in the end. I’ve noticed it with rice milk too, get it in the health food section and you’ll pay more than if you pick it up in the longlife milk area.
Don’t over buy just because it’s on buy 2 get 1 free. Buying three when you only need one is not a saving – that’s how we all end up with overstocked cupboards. I often ignore those type of offers. They are a bit more insidious than they look They work by increasing our responsiveness to scarcity. If we respond to these offers then we change from shopping with our meal list, to shopping opportunistically fearing that the offer will end and we will be paying more than we need to. So we then start searching for bargains and guess what? We end up buying a load of stuff we don’t need. Less is more? No, less is actually less. Buy one if you need one, not three. If I see expensive essentials on sale like washing powder at half price then I will get a couple, because it’s a big saving. But saving 28p by buying 3 tins of marrow fat peas when one tin a year is more than enough – just don’t go there ok.
Buy at the market but check your veg yourself. The market is really much cheaper than the supermarkets. But you do need to check your veg. I once got so ripped off. The guy took all the stuff I wanted from behind his stall and it was all lousy quality. They often trim the cauliflowers so they look fresher, so just pick it up yourself and look at it. The best time to get to the market it about an hour or an hour and a half before it closes. They want to get rid of all of it so they begin the big reductions in the veg. If you leave it too late they’ll have sold out though.
My last tip comes from my friend Pete who was the master of the supermarket. Pete would come out of Sainsburys and have four full carrier bags of yummy pre-made salads, organic meals, dips, gourmet puddings – really amazing stuff. Then we’d play, guess how much he paid. How much for four carrier bags of the best Sainsburys can offer. Well including some booze in those bags, he’d generally pay about £4 for the lot. How did he do it? He didn’t do anything illegal (well not there anyway).
Lets have a competition called “WOW!! How did he do it?” to find out if you’ve got any interesting ideas on how you could do this. The winner will receive a tin of marrow fat peas. Only joking, you’ll get some daffodil bulbs. Closing date will be in a couple of weeks time – when I get round to it.
XXX granny porn
PS: If you have any good shopping tips, please post them.
Bye for now xx
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UPDATE ON ARTICLE
Due to a complaint of exclusion from a reader without a garden, the competition winner will now be able to choose their prize. In addition to the daffodil bulbs, I will now also be offering the tin of marrow fat peas. The winner has 28 days to claim one of these fantastic prizes after the closing date (to be decided). Prizes will be sent out by 2nd class post, sometime in the future. The judge’s decision is final.
High Fives
3 February, 2010
I got tagged by a Anna to share my “high fives”. It doesn’t mean posting pictures of my kids after a pint of cola. It’s a deep meaningful thang. About what inspires me in life……..
1. My first high five has to be (er, er thinking now) oh yeah, my kids? That’s right. Yes, to be totally honest, having 3 young children as a single parent has fulfilled me totally in life. They have transformed my life and my vision of the future in lots of ways. Financially, in terms of my freedom, independence, autonomy… to mention a few.
2. Second on the list of high fives is laughing. I love this. It’s totally free and it can happen anywhere you like at any time – even I’ve found it can happen at the most inappropriate times. I’ve had to find ways to make myself laugh over the years and one of the best ways to pick yourself up from a bit of self indulgent pity is to make yourself laugh till you’re crying. How to do this exactly? Easy, three simple steps:
1. Think of your most embarrassing or funny moments and laugh.
2. Think of other people’s embarrassing moments and laugh – a lot more.
3. Carry on repeating steps one and two till your sides hurt.
The other brilliant thing about this method is that you have to regularly ask people for their most embarrassing moments, which means you get to have a great laugh as you go along compiling research material for those low moments. I’ve pondered on why it is I love embarrassing moments just so much and it’s the vicarious nature of them. It’s as if you were really there, you share the cringing discomfort of them, but you dont have to own it. So I guess you’re expecting me to share one with you now, hmm. One of mine was before I learnt how to a park a car. I was trying to park my rusty shite ole car in a really posh narrow shopping street in Cheltenham. I’d envisaged – car parked tidily at side of road. Eventually, with a lot of effort, I managed to get three of its wheels up on the pavement and found that the front of the car was sticking out blocking the whole pavement, so no one could walk past. A lot of people had walked around me by this stage and I needed a solution. So, I decided it was a good time to abandon the car. So I got out (and instantly felt a lot better) then I went in the nearest pub and asked someone to park it for me. This was not the brightest move. I think you can imagine the response from a bunch of Cheltenham rugby blokes, I just stood there, going “oh, excuse me, er, could anyone help me park my car please?”. So after a lot of laughing one of the blokes came striding out to help. When he saw my brown Austin Allegro strewn across the pavement, he actually let out a scream. Then his friends followed him out. There was little point in him parking in, because as soon as he did, I had to get in and drive away because they were taking the piss so much.
3. So I think next would be writing. I love writing and talking is nearly as good, but writing is definitely better in important ways. I get to say everything I want and no one interrupts. I can go on and on for ever if I like- this will probably be the case. Whereas with talking, people tend to roll their eyes or run away etc (I’m sure these things happen to you too).
4. I love the sky, it’s my favourite thing. I’ve been looking at it all my life and it still fascinates and amazes me every day. It’s the most wonderful art I’ve ever seen. Last year Laura and I went to see an artist who paints these really wonderful skies. We drove for miles to get to her house and when we got there, they were shit. Not like the real sky at all, hers were all static. What a con.
5. People. I like people. I really do. (I lurve you all). Oh I can’t be bothered to go into all the stuff about people I like. But one of the top things, is that they are full of surprises. You find out something about them that you can’t believe, or they do the opposite of what you imagined. They are full of unexpectedness, and that’s what makes them so interesting.
There are other things I could have included, but these 5 are the things that make me smile in life. The deeper stuff keeps me going too, but in a different way.
love and good lives to y’all.
PS. If you want to share a little embarrassing story of your own on here, please feel free.
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Here's one I didn't park
