Thoughts and Observations

Thoughts from beyond the pond. 

“O sacred hunger of ambitious minds” – Edward Spencer. The Faerie Queen(1596)

 

I enjoy fast food and make no excuses for my love of burgers, chips, and the like. As I don’t eat fast food often, it remains a treat to enjoy occasionally. Naturally, I relish fast food because I don’t fast, but I eat fast. My mother maintained that I was a cross between a Labrador and a sticky-tongued toad. My father has just denied any responsibility for any part of my genetic makeup. I scoffed food as fast as possible before my elder brother confiscated all the good bits. So, it wasn’t genetics that made me eat like a tornado; it was survival.

I grew up in London and learned to dine out rather than eat at home from a very early age. My mother’s main culinary skill involved over-cooking Brussels sprouts for Christmas, but her mother, who also ran the bar at the Hackney Empire, was part-owner (so I was told) of an eating establishment on Lea Bridge Road, which I would frequently visit. My Grandmother ruled the place with a rod of iron, which looked remarkably like a large pea spoon. Dressed in a housecoat straining at the seams, a scarf tied round her head, and a cigarette in her mouth, she would remain behind the counter, never mixing with the clientele. She just stood there dishing out tea, which mostly missed the cups, and shouted at customers to collect their food, which lay on but elevated from the plate by a layer of melted lard. Miraculously, the cooked food never slipped off the plate, despite being lubricated. I loved it, but please remember that heart disease death rates have fallen steadily since the 1950s.

Life wasn’t all lard and blocked veins; there was sophistication. At this time, espresso coffee had arrived in London, and my brother, being older, hep and far from square, would steal money from my piggy bank and, in return, infrequently take me with him when he went to a coffee bar in Soho. His favourite was the 2i’s coffee bar, which two Iranians had set up, but my favourite was Le Macabre, where you sat on coffins (search YouTube for “It's The Age Of The Teenager (1958)”, it is pure nostalgia and essential viewing). 

I wanted something with more class, more sophistication. Lyons Corner Houses and tea shops came close with table service by the lovely Nippies in their maid-like uniforms and elegant hats; my father used to take me there. He also worked in the catering industry as a company rep selling kitchen equipment to hotels and large caterers. Indeed, he heard that Lyons had opened a new type of establishment that came to the UK from the USA. Now that’s cool, daddio. He took me to my first Wimpy, and so began my love for fast food. I mean, anywhere that had tomato ketchup in a tomato-shaped plastic bottle that, if squeezed hard enough, the ketchup would fly out at least 18 inches. This was not bad table manners; this was art in action. Sadly, my father died of a heart attack a couple of years later, brought on, no doubt, not by Wimpy but by lard.

 

It is now time to update the story. A short while ago, I fancied some fast food, so I suggested a Burger King meal. Coincidentally, through different owners, Burger King started in the UK as a rebranding of Wimpy. I downloaded the app and began ordering, not knowing where the nearest Burger King was. I politely asked my dining companion, “Which burger would you like?” showing the menu options. “I don’t mind,” came the reply. I tried to stay calm, because in my world, if you don’t mind, you don’t get! The question could have been, “Do you fancy Spain or Italy next year? OK, you don’t mind, so you can go to Spain and I will go to Italy.” I know from experience that whatever I chose would be wrong once the eating started. Finally, choices were made and entered into the app, and we headed to Whiteley in search of Burger King. The app had advised us not to confirm the final order until we were five minutes away, which is tricky if you don’t know where it is. Eventually, we found it and went inside. I could hardly believe my eyes. Where were the tables with menus? Where were the happy servers and tills? This looked more like a factory than a restaurant. People were standing in front of a board, poking pictures of burgers, then waving a card at it. Behind the counter, the staff were very busy, and every so often, a number would be shouted out in the same tone of voice as my grandmother's, and a bag of food would be shoved into the hand of a waiting customer. I was confused, so I played the old man. Gingerly, I approached the busy food preparation area and looked helpless. Fortunately, a young woman came over, and I admitted I didn’t know what to do. She looked at my phone, pointed to a number, and with a finger, directed me to wait over there. I did, but there wasn’t much to see—just an overflowing bin and an empty table. After a short while, she came over with a paper bag and calmly told me it contained my order. Great, I thought, but then she handed me two empty cups. Sensing my dismay, she led me to a drink dispenser with a long list of options. I asked my friend what they would like to drink. “I don’t mind,” came the answer. I cried a little, dispensed two cold drinks, and we drove home to eat a cold burger and even colder chips.

 

“The only time to eat diet food is while you’re waiting for the steak to cook.” Julia Child

 

“Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind” Shakespeare Henry VI, Part 3, Act 5

Just before Christmas, I was at Heathrow Airport, returning from a short trip to Vienna, and I needed to find a toilet. The flight had been brief, and I knew there were aeroplane toilets, but I was raised to follow the command, “Do not use the toilet while the train is in the station.” I do not like to risk using the toilet on an aeroplane—you never know who might be below!

The toilets at Terminal 3 are grandly situated at the end of a long, clinically white corridor. The corridor looks as if it has been scrubbed and polished to perfection, and it was bright enough to put Blackpool illuminations into the shade. As I sauntered down this testimony to hygiene, I saw a crumpled mass of humanity in the distance that looked very much out of place. He was not hurt or injured; he was sprawled across the floor like some muddy teenager on your best sofa. Was he a protester, a beggar, a thief, a drunkard, even a ne’er-do-well (whatever they are)? I was ready for any eventuality, i.e. a hasty exit in the opposite direction. I was suspicious, and as I drew near, my suspicions grew until I was upon him and there at my feet was a tired traveller with two mobile phones plugged into two electoral sockets. He was nursing and caring for his and his partners, prized possessions, i.e. iPhones. I felt somewhat guilty after making such a negative assessment of him and his motives. 

On reflection, I was right to be suspicious or wary, which, given the situation, is a better word to use. We all want to be kind, i.e. the type of person who is warm, friendly and welcoming, but the truth is that, at the same time, we need to be cautious of the unexpected. I was reminded of this when watching my favourite television channel, Talking Pictures TV (Freeview channel 82). It was a 1959 episode of Dixon of Dock Green about doorstep swindlers taking advantage of the elderly, with one well-dressed crook promising their victim that they had been left an annuity while the other quietly and carefully stole cheques and looked for silver to be stolen later. At the end of the programme, George Dixon gave some sensible advice about being careful of unknown callers no matter how plausible and friendly they may seem. How right he was, but how many more doors do we have to protect today? My mother-in-law, usually a wise and sensible woman, spent thousands of pounds to receive a cash prize of millions; of course, she had been conned and lost the lot. She was not a greedy woman out for the millions, but she was too trusting a soul. The people who took her money were, to her, kind, clever, and believable; in reality, they were evil, and she saw no evil in anyone.

In one case, in this article, it was a door; in another, it was a letterbox that let the swindlers in. Again, how many more doors do we have now, not just physical but digital doors as well? A computer, a landline, an iPad, and an iPhone are more doors we need to protect. It is important not to get too pessimistic about computers, email, and the Internet. During and after COVID, they kept people in contact and informed, but like any door, it is essential to be wary of unknown visitors.

We can use tools like antivirus software and ensure that all our software is current. More accounts offer Two-Factor Authentication, where you enter additional information, such as a code sent to your phone. We can also be more cautious and less trusting when using free Wi-Fi in public places, watching what we post on social media, and avoiding sharing personal information.

If you are targeted, reporting concerns helps police track the criminal. While the Telephone Preference Service may help reduce direct marketing calls, it does not stop scam calls. These should be reported to  www.actionfraud.police.uk, while suspicious emails should be forwarded to report@phishing.gov.uk.

We all have so many more doors to protect, and we can fail quickly. Just the other day, I nearly replied to a text supposedly coming from my son telling me he had a new phone and couldn’t do online banking, so could I help? I nearly did reply to that text, but I remembered to “take five”, i.e. take a few minutes before replying and during that time, I rang his old number, and my son answered. I may have been scammed if I had rushed to respond to the text message. 

The police have produced a comprehensive and valuable resource to keep us safe. Now that Gavin and Stacey has finished, we have time on our hands, so please follow the link and read:

https://www.met.police.uk/syssiteassets/media/downloads/central/advice/fraud/met/the-little-book-of-big-scams.pdf

As well as a good lock and chain on the front door, we need to know how to protect ourselves from cybercrime I began with a quotation from Henry VI. The complete quotation is:

“Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind;

The thief doth fear each bush an officer”

Perhaps today, it should read

“Suspicion always haunts the careful mind;

The thief doth fear each vigilant user.”

 

“There is nothing wrong in change, if it is in the right direction. To improve is to change, so to be perfect is to have changed often.” - Winston Churchill.

At last, it is April; winter is fading, and spring has arrived. I will not miss winter, since it has become a season of dull, dreary, and damp days rather than the bright, brisk, and bitterly cold days where walking was a brusque pleasure rather than a despondent trudge. 

The emergence of Spring is a welcome change, and it made me think about change in general. The proverb says, “A change is as good as a rest,” and while I generally prefer the latter to the former, change happens to us all, whether we like it or not.

Changes in ourselves may be obvious as we grow and mature, or more subtle like the first time we say, “I would love a cup of tea”, or find ourselves tuning into Radio 4 rather than Radio 1. The world around us changes, as do the people we feel close to. We are animals who need to feel connected, and hopefully, the people around us can enrich our lives as the final squeeze of the tea bag does for our cup of tea.

The changes I am experiencing are rather personal, so I hope you don’t mind me sharing them with you. If you do, please stop reading and turn the page, but if you don’t mind my honesty, please keep it between us. I know I can trust you.

I read somewhere that knowledge is knowing a tomato is a fruit, and wis