Hail Mary

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I don't know how you feel about the times we live in, the developments we are exposed to, and the unfolding spectacles we witness. My default reaction these days: It's all too much.

Which is why I have found it very difficult over the past months to write anything here, let alone to publish it - just in case you were wondering, Constant Reader.

I am now encouraged to resume my blogging by good friends who are generous enough to claim they miss reading my ramblings. So, Gary, Graham, and Nick - this one is for you!

But then, what better week to confront my demons than this - book-ended as it is by the unelected UK Prime Minister's speech on what "Brexit means Brexit" actually does mean on Tuesday and the U.S. President-Elect's (now President's) inauguration on Friday. 

But since everything there is to say on both has been said, and by experts (less popular though they are these days, at least in Little Britain), commentators, and pundits much more knowledgeable than your author, I would love to be able to steer clear of adding my views on Theresa May and Donald Trump. Plus, it's such a beautiful day...

This exercise in self-discipline is not going to be easy, and at the outset I can't really promise I will see it through. In fact, I know I will not - as do you.

It does remind me of a song dating all the way back to 1929 (when it was first recorded and performed, long even before my time, by one Nick Lucas) that then became a one-hit wonder success for Tiny Tim (1932 - 1996) in 1968: "Come tip-toe through the tulips with me." Tiny Tim? Ring a bell? Yes - a character in Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol (1843).

Tiny Tim, born Herbert B. Khaury, was an American singer of Russian-Lebanese descent. He became famous for three things: his hair, his ukelele, and his falsetto voice. His stage name was ironic - he was tall (1.85m) but gangly. He was married three times, and had one daughter, born 1971 and named, you've guessed it, Tulip Victoria Khaudry. - The latest recording of "Tip-Toe Through the Tulips" is as recent as 2013 when Haruomi Hosono released a cover version... in Japanese!

Just for fun, here are three other singers with names referring to their built: Fats Domino (born 1928: "Blueberry Hill", "I'm Walkin'", "Whole Lotta Lovin'"); Little Richard (born 1932: "Tutti Frutti", "Slippin' and Slidin'", "Good Golly Miss Molly"); and, of course, the great Meat Loaf (born 1947: "Bat Out of Hell"; "I'd Do Anything for Love"; "Two Out of Three Ain't Bad" - and many, many more, including a fantastic cover version of Literature Nobel Prize laureate Bob Dylan's "Forever Young").

May your hands always be busy

May your feet always be swift

May you have a strong foundation

When the winds of changes shift

May your heart always be joyful

May your song always be sung

And may you stay

Forever young

Which sums up just about everything we can and should wish each other and, importantly, wish our children - not just on that artificial occasion at midnight on 31 December.

And that's why Bob Dylan was finally awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 2016, one of the very few good things to have come out of that year if you ask me.

Speaking of music: A year ago, on 18 January 2016, Glenn Frey died, aged only 67.

I was fortunate enough to see and hear his close friend, congenial soul mate, creative alter ego Don Henley live last summer in what was his first solo concert since Frey's death. A very touching experience that I admit brought tears to my eyes when Henley performed some of the countless Eagles classics. But then, I'm a sentimental soul.

In an interview with Rolling Stone magazine three weeks earlier, Henley had confirmed the dissolution of the band. No more Eagles.

Take It Easy, Glenn. I'll see you on that corner in Winslow, Arizona!

And here's to the memory of Natalie Cole, David Bowie, Prince, Leonard Cohen, George Michael, Rick Parfitt, and many many others whose songs have accompanied us through our lives, in good times and bad.

So let's once and for all bid farewell to a true annus horribilis.

I couldn't resist. What a great visualisation of a sentiment shared by many (not all, admittedly). The stuff you find on social media...

But life must be lived forward while understood only looking back, a wise saying goes. As the great F. Scott Fitzgerald (1896 - 1940) wrote in the closing lines of his masterpiece, The Great Gatsby: "So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past."

Don't wait anymore for The Great American Novel - it's been written and was published in 1925. Just take my word for it, expert or not.

F. Scott Fitzgerald on writing (a mere selection of three quotes):

"Show me a hero, and I'll write you a tragedy."

"Cut out all the exclamation points. An exclamation point is like laughing at your own joke."

"You don't write because you want to say something. You write because you have something to say."

We should all observe that last principle.

F. Scott Fitzgerald finished only four novels, along with a number of short stories. He died young, aged 44. He is generally considered one of the greatest writers of the 20th century.

He is also a member of what has been called the "Lost Generation", those that came of age during World War I. Among them were literary giants like Ernest Hemingway, T. S. Eliot, James Joyce, Sherwood Anderson, John dos Passos, John Steinbeck, and William Faulkner - to name just a few.

Will future historians and sociologists identify a new Lost Generation in those that came of age in our time? And asking the question is not scaremongering.

For the first time since World War II at least, in the western world it is no longer a foregone conclusion that the children will be better off than their parents - far from it. The world we leave them is nothing to be all that proud of. In this context, voting for Brexit and electing Donald Trump clearly reflect a deep sense of frustration in wide parts of our societies.

Paul Ryan, the Republican Speaker of the U.S. House of Representatives and no supporter of the election winner, summed up admirably what carried Trump to the White House: "He heard a voice nobody else heard." But that was the voice of those who should be getting ready to pass on the ball to the next generations, their children and grandchildren. And then graciously step out of their way:

It's your world now, use well the time

Be part of something good, leave something good behind

The curtain falls, I take my bow

That's how it's meant to be, it's your world now

It's your world now, it's your world now

The Eagles, "It's Your World Now" (Long Road Out of Eden, 2007)

This is the final song on the second of two discs of the Eagles' last album. It was written and sung by Glenn Frey. 

So was what they chose to do instead in reality an expression of their own helplessness, a desperate last-moment attempt at reversing the trends of their own lifetime and thereby preventing the creation of a Lost Generation?

In American football, this is called a "Hail Mary" pass: With the clock running down, and out of options, the Quarterback throws the ball downfield over 50, 60, 70 yards or more, in the hope somebody up front will catch it for a game-clinching Touchdown. The term became popular after a December 28, 1975 play-off game between the Dallas Cowboys and the Minnesota Vikings when Dallas Quarterback Roger Staubach, a Roman Catholic, said in an interview about his game-winning long Touchdown pass, "I closed my eyes and said a Hail Mary."


Unsurprisingly, the chance of a receiver actually catching such a ball is statistically very small. It's nothing but a last-ditch effort with little chance of success.

But it's not all doom and gloom everywhere. Some would have had cause for celebrations this week. Whether they actually did or not, I don't know. I would have.

For instance, the small but delightful nation of Slovenia, a proud and reliable member of the European Union, had every reason to party, politics aside, having peacefully taken the White House in the person of Melania, the new First Lady of the United States (aka FLOTUS). - Please bear with me: according to the archives, this photo of her was taken on my birthday in 2016.

Married on 22 January 2005, she and POTUS have one son together, Barron William Trump, born 20 March 2006. He's the poor kid that almost fell asleep on his feet when he had to stand on a stage, way past his bedtime, to witness Dad's acceptance speech in the early hours of 9 November 2016. This time, Barron was awake.

More than that: Barron was the star of the show if you ask me. A tall ten-year-old taking it all in his stride and having a good time, if a tad bored and distracted at times, but who could blame him - it did go on a bit. To me, he is now the mascot of Team Trump. And remarkably, for the first time in 54 years the nation has a First Son again in the White House - it's all been girls lately. Barron's "predecessor", of course, was "John John", John F. Kennedy, Jr, born 1960, who sadly died in an airplane crash in 1999.

Melania by the way has taken the brave decision to stay in New York City with Barron for the first months of her husband's Presidency so that their son can finish the academic year at his present school. This is a very good principle, the call of a responsible parent. So, I've decided I like Melania.

But then, Trump Tower on 5th Avenue is not exactly a dump, and it is home. And Melania may well be a little overawed at the prospect of residing at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue NW, Washington, DC 20500, aka the White House, something she surely never ever saw coming. She should, however, not wait too long with moving in as otherwise all the rooms may have been taken by her husband's sprawling family from his previous two marriages. What a retinue.

So, will those "Hail Mary" passes succeed? It's very early days, especially of course for the 45th POTUS, but I wouldn't necessarily bet on it.

On 23 June, the day of the fateful Brexit vote, the Pound Sterling was worth 1.30 Euros.

As I am writing this, it stands at 1.15 Euros. That's a drop by 11.5 percent. Against the U.S. Dollar, it's gone down by 17 percent.

That's bad for UK imports, so prices will rise, and for British holiday makers abroad. In theory, it's good for exports of course, making goods from the UK cheaper, but then - what does the Prime Minister's new World Champion of Trade actually sell?

This is from The Telegraph, one of the staunchest Brexit supporters in the media, so not suspicious of being anti-May, anti-Johnson, anti-Davis, anti-Fox.

Meanwhile, the financial services industry plans to move thousands of jobs from London's City to locations in the EU - Paris, Luxembourg, Frankfurt.

So, a new Lost Generation paying dearly for their parents' and grandparents' failure to win the football game while there was still time and then resorting to that desperate last-moment "Hail Mary" pass?

The future, of course, will tell. And famously, it is one of the most difficult things to predict.

But the question must be asked.

Contrary to the British, the Americans at least will have the opportunity in four years' time to make amends and elect a new President, in case Number 45 will not have worked out. They can act should they feel Buyer's Remorse.

A number of folks over there who still haven't got over the election result are predicting "he won't last the first four years". Again, I wouldn't bet money on it. Statistically, the likelihood is firmly in "Hail Mary" territory as there has only been one in 44 American Presidents since 1789 who had to leave the office prematurely for reasons other than death.

The stuff of pub quiz questions: Who was it?

The hapless Richard Milhouse Nixon of course (Number 37) who stumbled over the Watergate scandal and resigned on 9 August 1974.

If so inclined, check out the whole story. To this day, regardless of the merits of the case itself, it continues to be a prime example of how NOT to manage a crisis.

To say Trump starts the job with a lot of credit and confidence of the American people in his ability to do it well would be a gross overstatement - as outrageous as many of his own pronouncements over the past months and in his Inauguration Speech. "American carnage"? Really?

In fact, he enters the White House with the lowest ever approval ratings for an incoming President. At 70 years of age, he is also the oldest, but I'm not sure how relevant this is, except that it's strange the 320 million Americans couldn't come up with anyone younger. Hillary Clinton is 69.

Of course we wish everybody good health, including and not least POTUS, whoever it may be, but again, the question must be asked in the context of what kind of a person the Vice President is - famously, only one heartbeat away from the Oval Office. If nothing else, Mike Pence at least looked the part.

Which brings me neatly to my hero Joe Biden, the outgoing Vice President who I still believe would have beaten both Clinton and Trump and made a great President himself. That said, he is 74. I rest my case.

But I do recommend you read this piece from The New York Times:

https://www.nytimes.com/2017/01/17/magazine/joe-biden-i-wish-to-hell-id-just-kept-saying-the-exact-same-thing.html?emc=edit_ta_20170117&nlid=48122091&ref=cta&_r=0

What did Barack Obama say about his Vice President when he surprised him at what was deemed to be a farewell press conference by bestowing on him the Presidential Medal of Freedom, with distinction, the highest civilian award the United States, on 12 January 2017: "As good a man as God ever made." And: "The best Vice President this country has ever had."

And to him belonged for me the most telling, touching, and memorable closing image of the whole Inauguration Ceremony. While Barack and Michelle Obama flew out by helicopter, Joe and Jill Biden got into a car and were driven to Washington's Union Station. His famous final scene was on the platform, carrying his own overnight bag, and boarding a train.

That train took him back home to Wilmington, Delaware. He has been commuting for 44 years - some 8,000 three-hour round trips. The United States' 47th Vice President Joseph Robinette Biden, Jr. goes by the nickname of "Amtrak Joe".

Please check out why - it's a story of love, responsibility, and dedication. It's also one I have written about here before.

So, out with the old and in with the new. Change, let's be honest about it, can be good. But psychologists will tell you people don't tend to embrace it. To seek it proactively, they must feel things are pretty bad. And like the Quarterback, at his wits' end, resort to the "Hail Mary".

It's ironic Barack Obama campaigned and was elected on this theme: "Change will not come if we wait for some other person or some other time. We are the ones we've been waiting for. We are the change that we seek."

Make of it what you will, but what an about-turn within eight years - with Change ironically being the common theme.

Little Britain's Brexiteers are now jubilant that their Prime Minister will be the first foreign head of government to visit the new President. They are waxing lyrical about how she will be the "Maggie" [Thatcher] to his own Ronald Reagan.

"Maggie May"

A great song by Rod Stewart - and no, the lyrics are for once not in any way pertinent, relevant, or applicable. Just the name in the title.

Having trampled rather than tip-toed through the tulips up to here, I may as well end on the theme of "Special Relationships", namely the one between POTUS Nr 44 and the German Chancellor.

We have forgotten they did not hit it off straight away.

Dr Angela Merkel was anything but amused that Barack Obama chose to hold a mass election campaign rally in Berlin on 24 July 2008 - when he was nothing more than the first-time junior Senator for Illinois and Presidential nominee of the Democratic Party.

The German Chancellor would not permit him to erect his podium, presidential-style, with the Brandenburg Gate as backdrop, instead "relegating" his open-air, rock concert type event to the Strasse des 17. Juni, the wide avenue linking the Brandenburg Gate with the gold-topped Victory column at the other end, which traditionally serves as the venue for the Love Parade music festival and mass viewings of the German team's games during the football World Cup and European Championship tournaments.  An estimated 200,000-strong crowd came and cheered enthusiastically, providing priceless TV images for his audiences back home.

Here are some of the things the man who was to be elected a few months later said on that day: Listing major global problems, he postulated, "No one nation, no matter how large and how powerful, can defeat such challenges alone." He expressed his belief in "allies who will listen to each other, who will learn from each other, who will, above all, trust each other." Rhetorically, he asked, "Will we reject torture and stand for the rule of law?" And, poignantly, "Will we welcome immigrants from different lands?"

Finally, on the threat of climate change: "This is the moment we must come together to save this planet."

Obama's successor, President Donald Trump, in a nutshell: "America First!"

After a rocky start to their relationship, over the eight years of his Presidency, Merkel became Obama's closest partner, most important international ally, and, from all we know, personal friend. Unsurprisingly therefore, she was the last person he called before leaving Office (and the Oval Office).

I don't know if Barack Obama is a fan of Star Trek. But I can well imagine his farewell words to her may have been: "Live long and prosper!" I hope she does.

Declaration of interest: The following is taken from the Facebook page of my daughter, Greta. She published it without knowing I was writing this blog post.

The quote Greta chose, "You're better than the whole damn bunch put together", is of course from The Great Gatsby.

Farewells and Departures

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We fondly bid farewell to an old friend.

For years he reliably accompanied us as we went about our busy lives but then somehow couldn't keep up anymore, losing his groove while others became more important to us, more attractive, and just more fun to hang out with. It wasn't a conscious process, nor was there a specific incident or point in time at which we fell out. There was certainly no acrimonious break-up.


Somehow it just happened, and now that he is gone, we guiltily admit to ourselves we haven't really thought about, let alone missed him for a long time. With nostalgia we maybe spare him a memory or two, and then we move on. It's the way of the world. It's human nature. It's just too bad.

We've all been there, and if we're honest with ourselves, we are not necessarily proud of what happened nor how it finally unfolded. But we find consolation in convincing ourselves the fault lay with him. I mean, somewhere along the way he just fell back and faded into irrelevance.



We are of course bemoaning the passing of the BlackBerry, the father of all smartphones and both status symbol and cult object for managers, politicians, celebrities, and OIPs (Other Important People) in the ten years, say, from 2002 through 2012. 

If you've never come across OIPs before by the way, no wonder - I've just made it up. And I do think the term has potential.

The first time I was allowed to hold one in my hand - not an OIP, a BlackBerry of course - was in 2003 I think. Its proud owner was the Regional President North America for my company, hosting a management meeting on his home turf. We each took turns in admiring this wondrous piece of equipment, and once it had made its way safely back to our U.S. colleague, he put it away with the knock-out punch line: "And guys, the best thing about it is - it vibrates in my pants pocket."

What a classic.

Needless to say, as soon as I returned to the office back in The Old World, I started a campaign with IT to ensure I would get one myself, urgently and ahead of most others. I'm happy to report I succeeded - the techies generally tend to like me, not least because they can run circles around me, blissfully ignorant as I am to this day in their chosen field of expertise while always admiringly expressing my genuine awe at their wizardry.

Now, from his grave and I don't know how many generations of iPhones later (only launched in 2007 would you believe it), the BlackBerry handheld sends one last mail:

"Goodbye to you, my trusted friend
We've known each other since we're nine or ten
Together we climbed hills or trees
Learned of love and ABC's
Skinned our hearts and skinned our knees.

"Goodbye my friend, it's hard to die
When all the birds are singing in the sky
Now that spring is in the air
Pretty girls are everywhere
When you see them I'll be there.

"We had joy, we had fun, we had seasons in the sun
But the hills that we climbed
Were just seasons out of time."

"Seasons in the Sun" is not just a beautiful song. It's the English translation of the chanson "Le Moribond" written, recorded, and released all the way back in 1961 by Belgian singer-songwriter, Jacques Brel (1929-1978). It became a worldwide hit in 1974 for the Canadian singer Terry Jacks and a UK Christmas Number One in 1999 for the Irish boys group, Westlife. We owe the English-language lyrics to Rod McKuen (1933-2015).

Fewer than 40 songs in the history of popular music have sold ten million copies worldwide as "Singles", released on their own - Jacks' version of "Le Moribond" is one of them. With a bit of luck, Monsieur Brel's daughters Chantal, France, and Isabelle and their families will get a fresh windfall of royalties once my post has reliably gone viral...

This would now probably be a good point in time to examine disruptive technologies and inventions which changed the world forever, driving those that clung to the old ways and "missed the boat" into oblivion. And the iPhone is surely one of them. But I'd rather leave it to you come up with, say, the Top Three in our lifetimes.

Returning to farewells instead, as much as I would prefer to avoid the topic as it will spoil my otherwise good mood, I do have to say something on the baffling, unedifying, and downright depressing spectacle currently unfolding in the UK after the momentous departure 27 other European nations woke up to in the morning of 24 June 2016 - Brexit. To us Continentals it felt a little like long-term guests who just disappeared overnight without even leaving a good-bye note on the kitchen table.

The brave blogger's burden...

To begin, it must be rightfully acknowledged that, following a long and truly proud tradition (no irony), the British - to whom the world owes such delightful athletic games as football, tennis, rugby, badminton, and of course cricket (the list is incomplete) - have yet again created a new sport: Departing. 

For Brexit, it still took them 43 years, but since that ill-advised referendum, others have enthusiastically embraced their new national discipline, risen to the challenge, and dramatically reduced the time spans. Sam Allardyce, the coach of the English national football team lasted 67 days ("Big" is not "Great"), and the new leader of one of Her Majesty's Opposition Parties held office exactly 18 days (and it's for this new record alone and for no other reason that her name must go down in the annals of Departing - Diane Jones).

So, while, as we all know, a week is a long time in politics, the spectacle of the Conservative Party's Conference held in Birmingham a few days ago was so, as the English would put it, "interesting" that it justifies a brief recapitulation.

In a nutshell, and to borrow a current catch phrase from across the Big Pond, Theresa May, the newly-unelected Prime Minister, said to an astounded but largely delighted audience: "We will make Britain little again." Both literally I would venture, once Scotland and Northern Ireland have seceded to remain in the European Union, and also metaphorically and in spirit.

Does anyone remember the hilarious BBC sketch show of about ten years ago, starring the brilliant comic duo David Williams (left) and Matt Lucas (right)? It was a wonderful example of one of the British people's most endearing and world-beating traits - "self-deprecating" humour.


The sketches were linked by an off-camera narrator presenting them as a guide for foreigners to how different segments of society lived on this island. Check out "The Only Gay in the Village" with a cameo appearance by Sir Elton John in one episode! 

Underlying, however, and implicit in the title was a satirical reflection on the inward-looking, parochial, "insular" nature of the British and their attitude towards the rest of the world.

And this is where Mrs May now picks up the thread, the notable difference being that she seems to believe it's the way forward. In the words of Robert Shrimsley, one of my favourite columnists: "May offers a Dad's army version of Britain." Financial Times (7 October 2016) Back to the future, way back.

When it comes to the legitimate question how Brexit will be executed, however, without ruining this "small island nation" - according to latest estimates from the mandarins in the Treasury, it will cost £ 66 billion a year, foreign direct investment will collapse, and most if not all international companies with any meaningful representation will relocate elsewhere  - realism is sadly missing ("We can have the cake and eat it too."), technical knowhow is totally absent, concrete proposals are non-existent, and even the slightest semblance of a strategy nowhere to be found.

The project is shared - based on what formula or along what lines nobody, including the boss, knows - between the Secretary for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs; the Secretary of State for Exiting the European Union; the Secretary of State for International Trade; and the Secretary of State for International Development.

"But is there a plan, Prime Minister?" "Of course there's no plan. But why don't you ask Boris Johnson."

"But is there a plan, Boris?" "Of course there's no plan, but why don't you ask David Davis."

"But is there a plan, David?" "Of course there's no plan, but why don't you ask Liam Fox."

"But is there a plan, Liam?" "Of course there's no plan, but why don't you ask Priti Patel."

"Who? Oh, never mind."

One more name must now be added to this impressive list of thoughtful, informed, and responsible political heavyweights and charismatic national leaders: Amber Rudd whose job title and portfolio have just been enlarged to Home and Away Secretary. 

How so? Ms Rudd has publicly taken it upon herself first to send and then, importantly, to keep away all those nasty aliens stealing jobs from the vast cohorts making up the equally industrious, motivated, and qualified indigenous workforce - by "flushing out" [sic], as in naming and shaming those companies that employ foreigners. 

So farewell to the Proverbial Polish Plumber (how's that for an alliteration?); to the nurses and doctors keeping the NHS afloat, sort of; and to the waiting staff at the local pub and "that delightful little trattoria just around the corner which has just opened up". Well, that's going to be converted into a Fish and Chips place anyway.

Speaking of which - the Italian daily newspaper, La Repubblica published a wonderful cartoon. One character says to the other: "It's a soft start to Brexit." The other answers: "Yes, they're  beginning with racial laws."

In 1996, England hosted the football European Championships. The tournament was, and I hate to have to mention it in the interest of historical accuracy, won by Germany after eliminating the home team in the semi finals on, you've guessed it, penalties. Gareth Southgate, just now freshly appointed as interim coach of the England team, taking over from Big (not Great) Sam, was the unfortunate England player to miss his kick. I was lucky enough to be at Wembley Stadium on 30 June 1996 for the final in which Germany beat the Czech Republic 2-1 with a Golden Goal scored by Oliver Bierhoff in extra time - the first major competition to be decided by this newly introduced rule (which thankfully was short-lived: like the vast majority of football fans, not just Germans, I actually like penalty shootouts).

Anyhow, as mentioned above, The Beautiful Game was indeed invented in England, and the whole world will always be grateful for it. Accordingly, the official song for the event in 1996, "Three Lions" had the wonderful chorus line: 

"It's coming home

It's coming home

It's coming

Football's coming home"

Two decades on, and judging by latest developments in Little Britain, these friendly, welcoming, inclusive words would take on a totally different meaning - football is ours, we're repatriating it, and we don't want to play with you anymore. Oh, and we're keeping the ball too. 

"We are taking back control."

And if I sound disengaged, disappointed, and disillusioned - well, I am. As an EU member state citizen currently residing in the UK, contributing to GDP and paying taxes, who did not get the chance to vote in that infamous referendum (a belated Happy Birthday to you, David Cameron - life begins at 50, so enjoy it!) I don't appreciate being reduced to a "bargaining chip" (Theresa May).

But here's what for me was the most remarkable quote from the new Prime Minister's Brexit speech at the Party Conference:

"When you're a citizen of the world, you're a citizen of nowhere." 

Again: "When you're a citizen of the world, you're a citizen of nowhere."

Once more: "When you're a citizen of the world, you're citizen of nowhere."

Wow. That's quite a thing to say. That's quite a statement to make. That's quite a mentality to propagate.

And it contradicts everything I believe in. It discredits everything I have experienced in my own biography. And, most importantly, it negates everything my wife and I have based the upbringing and education of our three children on. We are happy and proud to have raised them to be just that - Citizens of the World.

I have a very good friend who has researched the phenomenon that is known as "Third Culture Kids" (TCKs), a term first coined in the 1950s to describe individuals raised for a significant part of their childhood and youth developmental years in a culture other than their parents' or the culture of the country stated as nationality in their passports. Simply put, they integrate elements of their host countries' cultures and their own birth culture into a new, third culture, becoming Citizens of the World, and frequently at least bi-lingual: "The third culture is what's shared by people who live amidst first and second cultures." (Christopher O'Shaughnessy)

Born the son of an American officer and raised as an "army brat", Chris grew up as a TCK himself and works as a public speaker and motivational coach with international schools, colleges and universities, military and other government agencies, Christian church congregations, NGOs, and businesses, tirelessly criss-crossing the globe - or "gallivanting", as he humorously calls it himself. But for all his TCK background and nomadic adult lifestyle he has the enviable talent to "rest in himself". 

Importantly, Chris is one of the funniest, nicest, most brilliant yet most humble people I have ever met. In 2014, he published his findings in a book with the wonderful title, Arrivals, Departures, and the Adventures In-Between. Highly recommended reading for Mrs May, Ms Rudd, Mr Johnson, Mr Davis, Mr Fox, and all other Little Britons - a window onto the world. It's available on Amazon, both as a paperback and in Kindle Edition. And while my generation should not be too proud about the kind of world we leave behind, given a choice, on departing I would definitely feel better knowing it will be in the hands of TCKs like my own children. 

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Arrivals-Departures-Adventures-Christopher-OShaughnessy/dp/1909193720

Of course, interesting, relevant, and entertaining books are not the only thing to enjoy and learn from in moments of leisure - films and music are right up there with reading, for me at least. 

Remember Westlife, "Seasons in the Sun", and the 1999 UK Number One Christmas hit?

At the risk of digressing, for a humorous take on this venerable and loveable national British institution, watch (again) the wonderful movie, Love Actually (2003) and look out for Bill Nighy as ageing Rock 'n' Roll legend Billy Mack who manages to land a Christmas Number One single with an adapted seasonal version of the old Troggs classic, "Love Is All Around", first released in 1966. 

Having spoken earlier of royalties for the Brel family, this was already the second time "Love Is All Around" was revived to huge success, actually [sic] generating more love and income not all around, but specifically for Troggs lead singer Reg Presley who wrote it than when the group first recorded it themselves decades earlier. 

The soundtrack of the equally delightful film, Four Weddings and a Funeral (1994) also featured a cover version of "Love Is All Around" by the Scottish band Wet, Wet, Wet that actually [sic] spent 15 weeks at the top of the UK charts. Sadly, it then dropped to second place, narrowly missing the equalisation of the all-time record of 16 consecutive weeks set by - Bryan Adams and "(Everything I Do) I Do It For You" in 1991. Reg Presley actually [sic] used the unexpected income to finance his research into extraterrestrials and paranormal phenomena. I mean, the man actually [sic] had a life after Rock 'n' Roll.

The other Troggs hits, by the way, were the "Wild Thing", "With A Girl Like You", and "I Can't Control Myself". Nor can you kill a good song, as another friend of mine always says. And I promise you will benefit from all this not-quite random information at a pub quiz one day and then be glad you read it here... 

I did warn you I was about to digress.

Meanwhile, back in the harsh reality of the political present, but thematically linked to the above, I have it on good authority from a very deep throat in the heart of Whitehall that a team of song writers has been assembled to create new lyrics for - no, not (at least for the moment) "Love Is All Around", but for "Three Lions". To what purpose, you may ask? 

Well, it appears there is a plan to re-release the song this December in order to secure that elusive Christmas Number One spot - ending The Year of Taking Back Control at least on a musical high to balance the free fall of the once-proud Pound Sterling aka £ and GBP. 

Sensibly, they have started with the chorus line which will now be: 

"It's closing down
It's closing down
It's closing
Britain's closing down".

Now that's what I call topical, catchy, and right on message!

And who will record this hit? Again, according to my sources, it will be a girl group carefully put together from the finest singing talent of those constituencies that had the highest vote for "Leave" back in June. Auditions are on-going in the East Midlands and East of England regions.

Three names are being considered for the combo:

The Away Team (punchy, straight-forward, and no precedent standing in its way)

Small Minds (negotiations are underway with legal representatives of groups Small Faces and Simple Minds to get permission for this hybrid) 

The Islanders (intellectual property issues first need to be resolved with the management of the American ice hockey team, New York Islanders)

I hope they can work things out with the NHL franchise. It's definitely my favourite.

Speaking of Little Britain and BBC series. In 2002, the widely revered Mother of All Broadcasters aired a program entitled,100 Greatest Britons. The show was based on a television poll conducted among UK viewers to find out who the public thought were their greatest compatriots in history. The Top Three were Winston Churchill, Isambard Kingdom Brunel, and Diana, Princess of Wales (yes, indeed); followed by Charles Darwin and, in a disappointing fifth place, William Shakespeare. 

By way of a compensation for this irreverent slight, and to show him the respect he so unreservedly deserves, the Bard from Stratford-upon-Avon shall have the last word in these ramblings on Farewells and Departures. 

In Shakespeare's Roman play, Julius Caesar the co-conspirators and tyrannicides Cassius and Brutus meet on the eve of the decisive Battle of Philippi in Macedonia (October 42 BC). The friends were never to see each other again: their armies defeated separately, they both committed suicide, falling on their swords, as noble Romans would. 

In his parting words, Brutus says:

"Forever, and forever, farewell, Cassius!

If we do meet again, why, we shall smile;

If not, why then this parting was well done." 

Julius Caesar, 5.1.125

P.S. A Bard for Our Time: Bob Dylan has just won the Nobel Prize for Literature!

       

What took them so long?  

"The answer, my friend

Is blowin' in the wind

The answer is blowin' in the wind."