Funding Education: Getting businesses involved

I've just had a brainwave... let me explain; I'll try and keep this simple.

It is a well-known fact that the private sector has a far better record of resource allocation and optimization than any centrally planned structure. I think a system that enables and encourages individuals and businesses to fund higher education (i.e. university) by using money that is otherwise headed for the taxman, could work very well.

For example:

Let us assume I am a businessman, running a small business and my projected Corporation Tax for the year is £30,000.

I pay for the university education of an individual to the tune of £6,000 per year for three years. This amount that I pay comes straight out of the Corporation Tax due, reducing it to £24,000 for the year. Of course the net result for me will be nil, so as an incentive my Corporation Tax is further reduced by a percentage of the funds I commit towards university fees. This could be from a scale ranging from 10% to 50%, dependant on the student's circumstances (various criteria apply, explained in next section*). Let's assume the reduction is 40%. This would further reduce my tax bill by £2,400. Instead of 30,000 I pay £21,600.

Everyone in the loop benefits:

(a) Me: I pay £2,400 less, but because I am paying for a child's education, I will choose who I sponsor carefully, I will ensure they do well by providing all the support I can provide - work experience during the course and possibly an apprenticeship or even a job at the end of the degree to gain real world experience from the word go!

(b) The student: Completes a degree with no debt. Has the backing of a business, opportunities of learning practically alongside the academics and a route into employment. The student is better able to make the connection between learning and using their skills in the right context.

(c) The Government: Doesn't have to wait for the individual to earn a certain amount before they start paying back the student loan. There is no student loan! Admittedly, the treasury recieves £8,400 less, but surely this £8,400 has just been spent in the most efficient way possible, with little beaurocracy, no wastage, is targeted at an individual who will make full use of the opportunity and helps create a route into the world of work. No government intervention required!

Now this is just me. Imagine this multiplied over thousands and tens of thousands of businesses and companies.

This can be devilishly simple to implement, possibly through the university admissions systems (UCAS?). Again, no additional government intervention required. For maximum benefit to the sponsor, to society and to individuals, there would have to be certain eligibility criteria to adhere to. Students from poorer backgrounds, areas high deprivation, generational unemployment, lack of education within the family (uneducated parents, etc) should attract a higher rebate (see * above), while those in better circumstance would attract a smaller deduction.

I don't know if such a system exists or if there are serious flaws in my idea, but it sounds good to me!

Taxes cuts for the rich. Really?

I read this explanation of tax cuts some years ago and I thought I'd share it with everyone...

Whenever a new government announces tax cuts we hear this a lot: "It's just a tax cut for the rich!" The leftie press kick up a frenzy and the average wage-earner simply accepts it to be a fact. But what does that really mean? Just in case you are not completely clear on this issue, I hope the following will help. Please read it carefully.

Let's put tax cuts in terms everyone can understand. Suppose that every day, ten men go out for dinner and the bill for all ten comes to £100. If they paid their bill the way we pay our taxes, it would go something like this:

The first four men (the poorest) would pay nothing.

The fifth would pay £1.

The sixth would pay £3.

The seventh would pay £7.

The eighth would pay £12.

The ninth would pay £18.

The tenth man (the richest) would pay £59.

So, that's what they decided to do. The ten men ate dinner in the restaurant every day and seemed quite happy with the arrangement, until one day, the owner threw them a curve. "Since you are all such good customers," he said, "I'm going to reduce the cost of your daily meal by £20." Dinner for the ten now cost just £80.

The group still wanted to pay their bill the way we pay our taxes so the first four men were unaffected. They would still eat for free. But what about the other six men; the paying customers? How could they divide the £20 windfall so that everyone would get his 'fair share?' They realized that £20 divided by six is £3.33. But if they subtracted that from everybody's share, then the fifth man and the sixth man would each end up being paid to eat their meal. So the restaurant owner suggested that it would be fair to reduce each man's bill by roughly the same amount, and he proceeded to work out the amounts each should pay.

And so:

The fifth man, like the first four, now paid nothing (100% savings).

The sixth now paid £2 instead of £3 (33% savings).

The seventh now paid £5 instead of £7 (28% savings).

The eighth now paid £9 instead of £12 (25% savings).

The ninth now paid £14 instead of £18 (22% savings).

The tenth now paid £49 instead of £59 (16% savings).

Each of the six was better off than before. And the first four continued to eat for free. But once outside the restaurant, the men began to compare their savings.

"I only got a quid out of the £20," declared the sixth man. He pointed to the tenth man, "but he got £10!"

"Yeah, that's right," exclaimed the fifth man. "I only saved a quid, too. It's unfair that he got ten times more than me!"

"That's true!!" shouted the seventh man. "Why should he get £10 back when I got only two? The wealthy get all the breaks!"

"Wait a minute," yelled the first four men in unison. "We didn't get anything at all. The system exploits the poor!"

The nine men surrounded the tenth and beat him up.

The next night the tenth man didn't show up for dinner, so the nine sat down and ate without him. But when it came time to pay the bill, they discovered something important. They didn't have enough money between all of them for even half of the bill!

And that, boys and girls, journalists and college professors, lefties and pinko-commies, sandle-wearing tree-huggers and armchair economists, is how our tax system works. The people who pay the highest taxes get the most benefit from a tax reduction. Tax them too much, attack them for being wealthy, and they just may not show up anymore. In fact, they might start eating at restaurants overseas without you.

I found this video from How The World Works.

'Ten Cannots'

by Rev. William J. H. Boetcker (1873–1962)

1. You cannot build character and courage by taking away man's initiative and independence.
2. You cannot help small men by tearing down big men.
3. You cannot strengthen the weak by weakening the strong.
4. You cannot lift the wage earner by pulling down the wage payer.
5. You cannot help the poor man by destroying the rich.
6. You cannot keep out of trouble by spending more than your income.
7. You cannot further the brotherhood of man by initiating class hatred.
8. You cannot establish security on borrowed money.
9. You cannot bring about prosperity by discouraging thrift.
10. You cannot help men permanently by doing for them what they could and should do for themselves.

LibLab, take heed.

Why I am a conservative

Election fever is upon us and no gathering is complete without at least one discussion on the debates, parliament, MP's expenses, immigration and so on. A lot of my friends appear surprised when they discover whom I support. I have to admit, some have reacted with shock - you know - eyes opening wide and jaws dropping, "What?!!" As if I'd announced I'd been diagnosed with a terminal illness.

It got me thinking though... why do I vote the way I vote? I am from a migrant ethnic minority. Surely, I should be a Labour supporter. Aren't they the party of the downtrodden, the disadvantaged and the weak? Don't they look after people at the lower end of the social strata, the immigrant populations, the lowly workers? Aren't they a more tolerant, more liberal and more representative of the common-you-and-me than any other party? Aren't they striving for equality for all? Well no. You believe that and it suits them just fine.

I often get hit with this: "But the Tories are the Nasty Party!" Which is of course the same as saying, your name is Khan and so you are a terrorist.

So why am I a conservative? Let's see...

• I don't believe anyone who hasn't lived my life knows anything about MY values, the importance I place on MY traditions and the respect I owe MY elders. I am the sum of MY experiences. Similarly, I don't believe that such a person can tell me how I should conduct myself. I don't think any politician has a better handle on what to do with my money - the money I earned - than I do.
• I like to believe that I can become whatever I want, rise to whatever heights I can reach and even beyond. I don't want to slow down to let someone who can't (or won't) catch up. I don't want to stop striving for excellence because it might make someone else feel bad.
• I don't want my son to be embarrassed to raise his hand in class because he knows the answer in case it upsets someone who doesn't. I want my children to learn how to be competitive, how to push themselves further to achieve excellence. I want schools to have a vested interest in my kids' education and achievement. And I'd rather neither of my kids brought back certificates from school every other day(!) for inane, meaningless achievements like 'sitting quietly in class'. They're warping the real sense of achievement they would get if they were sufficiently pushed.
• I don't resent wealthy people. No, not at all, you see, I want to become one of them one day. It isn't the government's job to make me successful; it's the government's job to create an environment that allows me to make myself successful.
• I believe in equal opportunity. I also believe that some people will be better than me at creating opportunities for themselves. Some people will be worse. I can't sing, dance or play football. Big deal. I'll find something else I'm good at. I don't need you to tell me.
• People of all races should be treated equally and any law, that states otherwise is immoral, unnatural and unfair. I don't believe in special treatment. Especially legally sanctioned special treatment. I want to hire people based on their abilities. I do not want people with no business experience telling me my staff or my Facebook friends' list does not represent the ethnic mix of my local area. I will befriend who I want, hire who I want based on my OWN perception of benefit and pleasure. Not some artificially created set of parameters created by someone who understands nothing of my business or the community it serves.
• I do not believe that dumbing down to the lowest common denominator helps anyone but the politicians hoping to look good. It throttles ambition and innovation - something that made this country great. You may deny this is happening; here's a simple test: Take a 1997 GCSE Maths paper and get someone who got an A* in 2009 to do it. Education, education, education indeed!
• I believe that as an ethnic minority, I am not automatically a victim. I need my government to stop treating me like one or even suggesting to me that I am victim. I believe that if I fail to integrate, I take no steps to learn what is needed; it is my own fault and my own responsibility. All I want the government to do is level the playing field for me. I do not want special treatment. I'm better than you think. If I'm not happy with my life, I'd like the opportunity and responsibility to sort my problems out myself. Thank you very much. If I want help, I'll ask.
• I believe that if I am ever down and out, my government should be there to help. I voted you in, remember? I want a safety net, NOT a hammock. I believe laws aimed at ‘protecting’ minority groups render them impotent. I also believe that this is deliberate and keeps poor people poor and dependant on the state.
• I do not want my government creating policies based on how 'nice' they make the academic thinktanks and unelected QUANGOS feel. Policies should be based on how it feels on the ground. Policies that I want for me. Policies that make life easier, make work easier and make society fairer. Oh, and I'd like them to ask ME first, seeing as it affects me. Not someone with an artsy-fartsy degree and a theory. Most new ideas tend to be inferior to the traditional responses which they propose to replace. To replace the wisdom of generations with a brainwave conceived over champagne in an ivory tower is ludicrous. I don't believe in sudden, knee-jerk reactions to social anomalies. Nature has a way of correcting problems in a much better and sustainable way.
• I am a citizen of the United Kingdom before I am a citizen of the EU. I'd like my own neighbourhood sorted before I lend a helping hand to others. Splinter, log? There's some sense in that you know. My priorities are my family, my community, my country and then the rest of the planet. In that order.
• I am shocked at the way children are treated like adults and adults like children. Respect for your elders is easily eroded when parental authority is undermined. I'd like my government to stay out of the way I raise my kids. My parents raised me without the fear of the state. My siblings and I turned out okay.
• Private industry almost always does a better job of allocating resources than the government could ever hope to do. It's their ass on the line. Bureaucrats have nothing to lose when things go wrong. It's not their money you see. I'd like my government out of business and industry and back into ensuring everything runs smoothly. I want my customers to come back. I will provide a good service. Let me.
• Having a government that is too involved in my life is far more of a threat than a government that isn’t involved enough. I will choose the temperature of my bath water myself, thank you very much. Now get out of my bath.
• I'm paying too much in taxes. If a third of my income goes in personal taxes and nearly a fifth is lopped off the rest when buy things, I'm not really working for myself or my family. If the government can't operate at a reasonable cost to me, they should cut back. Just as any enterprise or hardworking individual would. Simply put, I can't afford a big government; I'd like a smaller one please.
• I believe in educating people to my point of view. Not forcing them into compliance. The last guy who tried this started a world war. The one before him created a monster superstate.
• I believe in equality of opportunity, not equality of outcomes. Please stop using silly statistics to illustrate the bloody obvious. "90 nine to 11 year olds believe that 'obesity' is offensive' and may demotivate overweight children." Really? So we're going to call a spade a shovel then? I’d rather my taxes not be spent on such drivel.
• I believe when the government employs a significant chunk of the working age population and absorbs more than half the GDP to run, something is seriously wrong. One department takes money from me in the form of taxes and yet another department gives it back to me in the form of tax credits. Both departments employ an army of people who could be working to better the competitive advantage of my country and leading the way to technological and industrial advancement instead of shuffling figures.
• I believe that many seemingly ‘noble’ and well-intentioned policies of appeasement of special interest groups are simply very well disguised methods of securing vote banks. Divide and rule at its best. I’d like my government to not manipulate minorities in that way. It angers me that the bulk of my own community is goaded into supporting the very ‘regime’ that undermines them.
• I believe that the more the government tries to 'help' us with new laws and systems, the more of our personal freedom we barter away. As Benjamin Franklin famously said, "They who can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety, deserve neither." Think about it.

All of the above is quite simplistic, in no particular order and not the entirety of my opinion. I could go on and on... Also, you can tell, I have not had the sophisticated education nor the fancy words some of the people who will refute my points usually come armed with. But maybe some straight talking is all we need.

What do you think?

Where the mind is without fear? Really?

A great man once said this about a great nation:

Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high

Where knowledge is free
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments
By narrow domestic walls
Where words come out from the depth of truth
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way
Into the dreary desert sand of dead habit
Where the mind is led forward by thee
Into ever-widening thought and action
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.

Perhaps my take on it is more relevant:

Where the mind is numbed by fear and the head hangs in shame
Where nothing is free
Where the world has been broken up into fragments
By silly, narrow domestic walls
Where words come out from the depths of deceit
Where tireless striving is only saved for instant self-gratification
Where the clear stream of reason has lost its way
And further damned by corrupt, self-serving leadership
Where the mind is misled into useless pursuits
Abject apathy and slothful inaction
From that hell of so-called freedom, my Father, let my country awake.

Toadstool Temple

Elf Elly sat down on her toadstool. She was upset. Everyone was ignoring her. Was it because she didn't believe in the temple? Then there was a flash! She was at a big place made out of toadstools.

"It's true!" she said.

Flash! Why, they're talking to me! Strange.

Achint Singh (9)

My Daughter :)

Invictus

by William Ernest Henley; 1849-1903

Out of the night that covers me
Black as the Pit from pole to pole
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the horror of the shade
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate
How charged with punishments the scroll
I am the master of my fate;
I am the captain of my soul.

I get goosebumps each time I read it.

Snow!

I thought that over the years the word had completely lost its significance for me. Having spent a majority of my life in two countries where snowfall is a given, I now have two children one of which has no memory of it and the other has never seen it. After nearly nine years in London and a few false starts, this was the real thing. Real snowfall that settled, stayed and froze over the next morning. And the day after.


I watched it fall, a mixture of icy sleet at first slowly developing into the gentle feather-like fall that makes it the event that it is. And the memories came flooding in...


My best memories of snow are from the 70s while at The Ahlman Academy in Kabul. I'm hurtling through the school grounds pushing a zimmer-frame like contraption and I hit an obstacle, topple over and break my nose. There's blood everywhere! I'm 7 years old. Mrs Cuthbert cleans me up and tells me to hold my nose up with my head thrown back. It doesn't hurt and I want to go back to play!


We're having a snow sculpture competition at school. Our class is making three gigantic mice (from the poem 3 Blind Mice) with sunglasses made of painted corrugated board. I've brought three large cartons from my Dad's office and painted them black so we can make the glasses. The senior classes are making a larger-than-life sculpture of Hans Christian Andersen's Little Mermaid - you know the one you can see in Copenhagen's harbour. We're all giggling at probably the first set of naked breasts our 7-year-old eyes had ever seen.
We're off to a skiing trip. My first time. I'm 9 now. While on the lift, I drop my skis on our way up the lift and they hit a German tourist. He swears at the entire group. I promise myself that I would never, ever ski again. Sledging maybe yes, skiing, never. The following year I take up ice skating and then deciding it's too girly (and after watching Roller Ball with James Caan) switch to roller skating. But I digress.


Our driver Amir Gul is clearing up the driveway and now there are 6 foot walls on either side. My brother, our friends Habib Shah and Mahboob Shah and I are digging tunnels, knowing this would collapse and fill up the driveway again and annoy the hell out of Amir Gul. He does get angry and we make it up to him by helping him fit chains on all our families' cars tyres.


I'm knocking off the icicles outside my window. Some are so long that they touch the bottom of the window - like bars on a prison window. Mrs Cuthbert explains the difference between icicles and stalactites - icicles are formed because water freezes and hangs around, stalactites are formed because water doesn't hang around and evaporates, leaving the dissolved chemicals behind. (Stalactites hold on tightly to the ceiling, Stalagmites might reach the ceiling - I remember that still!)


10 years later, I'm in Shimla. Snow is perfect for hiding (and chilling at the same time!) bottles of beer. Snow also means exams. Snow also means we'll be home soon. Snow also means bitter, bitter cold, boring trips to town, rum breath, no nookie-in-the-woods and a completely deserted Lover's Lane.


A cold drop of water on the nape of my neck shakes me out of my reverie and brings me back to the present - London, February 2009. I look around at the landscape - the landscape of low indices of deprivation, broken phone boxes, smashed bus shelters and toppled over bins. Except you can see none of that now. As far as the eye can see there is this vast sea of ankle deep snow, still fluffy, still snowballable, still snowmanable and still white and still pure.
It was getting dark now and I turned to go back inside. I paused. Turned back and looked at the white expanse before me.


And then I did something I hadn't done for over 25 years: 


I pee-ed in it.


"Frozen and slushy streets to work tomorrow morning", I thought to myself, as I went inside. "Damn!"

Holiday!

It's 3:00 AM and our taxi arrives in an hour. The packing's been done. My little girl is in her room making little drawings, unable to sleep. "I'm too excited to go to sleep, Papa!" she goes when I bob my head into her room.

My son, who usually sleeps deep, oblivious to everything has just knocked my door. "Shouldn't we be getting ready?"

"Ten more minutes," I say. "Make yourself some tea while you're waiting."

We're really going!


I can't wait to get away. There's plenty on the agenda - the Falls, the Maid of the Mist, CN Tower, the Great Lakes, Rogers Centre, Yonge-Dundas Square and a dubious sounding club called Besharam (Hindi: Shameless).

A 4GB memory card should be enough.


Snap Quiz: Where are we headed? Clicking any of the links is cheating!

Cruel Summer

It's hot. I can't handle hot weather, having lived all my life several thousand feet above sea level. A cold water shower doesn't help - you simply sweat faster than you can dry yourself. It says it's 27° but it really feels like 37°.

The Lapsed Blogger

The last time I came around here was over six months ago. So much for being prolific. I didn't think I could keep this up and I was right. But - I'm back. Someone once told me, "You don't get time, you make time." Well, I'll try and make time then.

What have I been upto since Christmas? Mostly it's been the usual, setting up new year's resolutions, breaking them before the bubbly's worn off, adjusting to the new home and new work schedule, changing my little girl's school, forgetting to redirect my mail, tweaking my company website and spending 12-16 hours a day, 6 days a week working my butt off.

Last month I hired an assistant. Someone who came with strong credentials and solid references. An HND in computing, her CV said. I'm sorted, I thought. Until I gave her a spreadsheet to design and populate.

"How do you want it on the spreadsheet?"

"Use the following headers - Name, NINO, Address DOB, Name of Course, Start, End.. etc. All the information you need is on the application form and learning plan."

"Okay, but you'll have to show me how to do it, we did not do spreadsheets in my course."

I froze. I have an under 14 at home that wouldn't flinch at that. What exactly do they teach in an HND in Computing? How to navigate MySpace? In the end it was my little boy who entered the 92 names on a beautifully crafted spreadsheet and got a PSP as a reward. Considerably cheaper than the £200 per week Her Ineptness, the HND was costing me.

On another day I called my office from a meeting. Six rings later, in perfect Estuary, "Hell-oh?"

"This is Banti, Good afternoon HND."

"Oh Hi Ban'i, how are ya?"

"I'm fine thank you HND, but that is not how you answer the phone in my office! Shall we try again?" I hung up and dialed again.

"Good moanin, Effec'ivi'y, Can I 'elp yew?" Giggle. It didn't sound funny at my end. Especially since it was 1:00 PM and my company is called Effectuality. What happened to the well-spoken person I interviewed a few days ago?

"Good afternoon HND. Were there any calls for me?"

"No Ban'i, it's been quiet all moanin." and then in the same breath, "Ban'i, I 'ave to leave early today."

"I'm not back until 3 PM HND, someone has to be there, why didn't you tell me this yesterday?"

"I forgot." That of course was the third time in two weeks. Her first two weeks with me.

"I'll be there at 3, you can go then."

"Fanks Ban'i". Dear Lord.


Needless to say, HND did not make it past week 3 and is back on income support where I found her in the first place. I swear I tried, I honestly did.

Stars on the ground...

I've never been much of a Bollywood fan, but this weekend I went to see Taare Zameen Par (Stars on the Ground) an off-the-beaten-track Hindi film directed by veteran actor and debutant director Aamir Khan. Taare Zameen Par, released worldwide on the 21st of December is written by creative director and writer Amole Gupte.

I thought this was one for the kids; there's not a lot you can do in the mid-December weather in London - a movie would be a good way to entertain them for a few hours. Easy night out.

I had no idea...


The story revolves around Ishaan (played by Darsheel Safary), an 8-year-old boy who looks at the world with wide eyed amazement and wonder; fish, birds and the explosion of colour around him. Highly sensitive to the harsh emphasis on good grades, homework and achievment, Ishaan also happens to be dyslexic.

Rather than admitting his inability to understand letters and numbers, Ishaan refuses to comply, thinking that "I won't" will land him in less trouble than "I can't". It does however get him into enough trouble for the parents to send him off to a boarding school to be 'straightened out'.

Unable to cope with the trauma of being separated from his parents, Ishaan withdraws completely into himself. Life in the boarding school is no different and he is the subject of ridicule from teachers and students alike for being 'stupid' and a 'duffer'. Enter Ram (played by Aamir Khan), a temporary art teacher who recognises the child's dyslexia and takes him under his wing. There was not a single dry eye for the next hour of that film - my two kids, all of 8 and 13 years, sobbed uncontrollably.

Not a word was spoken during the drive back home. Once at home, over dinner, the awkward silence was broken. We had our discussion, making eye contact with some difficulty - no one wanted to let the others know their eyes were welling up. This is a first for us; we're usually a Hollywood blockbuster familiy - we learned a great deal about ourselves, parenting, dyslexia, art & expression and how we underestimate the intelligence of our children. I also learned that there's quality cinema coming out of Bollywood.

The main thing that struck me however, was the impact dyslexia had on Ishaan's development, his motor skills and his social skills. He was 8 years old, already withdrawing into a world of his own, shutting everyone out. Adults with dyslexia have had to put up with the trauma for longer. How would it have affected their life chances? Ishaan got help when he was little, but what about the others we deal with on a day-to-day basis as advisers? And not just dyslexia; what about other disabilities? How does it feel growing up with something that is not your fault?

The textbooks, Equal Opportunity Legislation and Company Policies simply tell us. And we understand - of course we do. We just don't feel. Taare Zameen Par makes you do that.


Click here for the film's official website.
Released in the UK with English subtitles.
The film may appear slow in the first half, don't hold that against me! The second half makes the wait worthwhile.

If he brings you to it...

It's been a crazy few weeks. Actually, two whole months of frenzied stuff and the proverbial's hit more than just the fan, several times over.


Firstly, two tragic deaths:


My dear friend Alan Davidson passed away following a heart attack while he was travelling to a meeting (I only found out two days later). Alan was the Head of Corporate Communications at Reed in Partnership where I worked a few weeks ago. I have had the good fortune of working directly with Alan and we enjoyed an excellent mentor-mentee relationship. I had nothing but the deepest respect for him, even though our politics were chalk and cheese. From working with Alan I have learned in 6 months what it would take me 6 years to learn from life. Alan's influence on my way of thinking was profound and I am sure he affected many people that way; the condolence messages on his Facebook page are testimonies to this. It did not matter that Alan was less than 10 years older than I was, but I did see him as a father figure. And I will miss him like I miss my Dad. I could blame it on fate, but Alan's taught me otherwise. My heart goes out to his family and I hope they will be how he would have wanted them to be.


One of my regrets will remain not being able to attend Alan Davidson's funeral. I would have liked to say goodbye in person. I think he would have liked that too. But there were other, equally serious events taking place...
If losing a good friend in his mid 40s to a freak heart attack on a train is tragic, then what happened next can only be described as completely unfair. My little 11 year old niece, who after battling a serious and rare heart condition, further compounded by an even more serious and rarer blood disorder, passed away in the early hours of the 30th of November. The same day as Alan's funeral.


Pearl had been a happy child throughout her 11 years and was very much loved - her parents catered to her every whim - she was the centre of thier lives. Her illness - detectable only when it's already too late - came as a surprise and shock to all. A week ago, she was this bubbly child, full of life and promise and suddenly the doctors at Great Ormond Street were telling us there was nothing they could do. As of today, some 3 weeks later the significance of what has hit us still shocks everyone. How could anyone without a shred of malice in her have to face this? The very ground on which faith stands begins to appear shaky. While my grief is nothing compared to my poor brother, his wife and thier little 4 year old boy, I could have used some 15 minutes with Alan. He would have known what to say.


Secondly, I was moving home during all of this. Rated as the second most stressful event in one's life, I think we did quite well, considering everything else that was going on around us. We have moved into a flat for the first time in our lives. This is going to take some getting used to - everything on one floor, nosey (and noisy) neighbours across the hall (as opposed to across the street), communal stairs, a tiny balcony facing the street(!), a living room the size of a bedroom, no garden, two flights of stairs before you're home(!) and two doorbells to gain entry.


The kids are of course, delighted. They have thier own rooms finally, and the great customization race has begun. My boy wants a Media Version PC he can hook up his games console to and watch Top Gear on. I'll start worrying when he puts up a Jermey Clarkson poster; I had Bananarama on mine when I was 13. My girl on the other hand, is on a pink things acquistion spree. There's a lilac Bratz television she's seen in one of the catalogues, "But Daddy, that would be the perfect size for my room!" How do you explain to a 7 year old that only a mug would pay that kind of money for a cathode ray tube? Anyone know where I can get a pink TFT?


And thirdly, there's the business, Effectuality (www.effectuality.co.uk/). Leaving it on the back burner was the last thing on my mind when I left the safety and security of a regular paycheck. But then that's exactly what happened. I turned away customers with deadlines and did a slippery job of my website - which was more than 20 days behind schedule. It's up now and I am back at work. I am today where I should have been on the 1st of November. Some serious catching up to do I have. I so need the Force to be with me.


Is there a lesson in any of this or is it just a long read fuelled by the weekend beer? Well I have learned one thing - and my friend Ayesha Kanji summed it up best when she said : "If He brings you to it, He will take you through it."
Either that, or as Alan would have said: "It'll blow over, my friend."

New beginnings

I'm starting a blog. I wonder if I'm ever going to get the time for this.

I've just quit a job I loved to start my own consultancy, I'm in the process of moving house and my niece is terminally ill in hospital - all three at the same time. Which of course means I am not going to have enough time for this, for now.

I hope to be posting soon!