Bandits approaching the next roundabout

I was in London with my daughter Ruth yesterday and we visited the Cold War exhibition at the V&A.

The most exciting exhibit was a Messerschmitt KR200 just like this one. Understandably there was little demand for fighter planes in Germany after the war and so the remaining stock of cockpit canopies were used to make these wonderful bubble cars.

Ruth could not believe that people really used to drive them. I had to explain that to graduate to a bubble car from motorbike and sidecar was a huge advance in comfort and convenience.

If you're in London, the exhibition is fantastic. It runs until the end of Jan and costs just £9.00 to get in. For those in their 20s, it's a revelation about how us baby boomers lived. For those in their 50s, it's pure nostalgia.

Where was Lady Penelope?

I spent last weekend on Lanzarote speaking at a travel trade conference.

It was my first visit to the island so I had no idea what to expect. Of course I'd read that it's volcanic, but little could have prepared me for what I found. The place is totally surreal and reminded me instantly (and constantly) of Tracey Island, home of Thunderbirds.

Our hotel had a pool just like the Traceys' and I was convinced that at any moment we'd see TB1 emerge from underneath.

If you've not visited Lanzarote let me tell you it's perfect if you want to eat fish, lay in the sun and drink cocktails by the pool. If you want history, culture, greenery then it's not your place.

There's miles and miles of lava fields, volcanic peaks, and scruffy vines growing in the lave behind lava-rock windbreaks. There are also plenty of places you can eat an full English breakfast for just three euros, watch Sky Sport over a pint of Stella or simply strut along the prom, showing off your beer gut and tattoos. Having neither of these I felt rather conspicuous.

It was a great conference though and once you'd retreated into the darkened, air conditioned conference room, you could have been anywhere - even Birmingham!

Simple pleasures

I spent Sunday afternoon fetching a load of horse manure for my garden. I have an arrangement with Julie who keeps horses and lives about three miles away. She makes a muck heap, rings me up and I go and collect it.

It's a great chance to take my tractor out for a drive and to use the front loader and tipping trailer. My tractor was built in 1963 and this summer benefitted from a complete engine overhaul. (I have still not owned up to what it cost!) I also have a five foot grass cutter for it which provides further opportunities to play with it.

I first drove this model, a Fordson Super Dexta, when I was 16 and have been driving them on and off ever since. It is pure nostalgia. All the chaps driving big modern tractors on the fields I pass give me a wave. I know they'd really like to swap places.

On this trip, I passed another Dexta on the road. This one had a plough on and had been re-sprayed as well as restored. Proof that I'm not the only guy who invests vast amounts in keeping 45yr old tractor on the road.

Mental Health Week

Last week was World Mental Health week. This was appropriate for me as my depression 'black dog' bit my arse hard and refused to let go. I started waking at 3am and then when I got up later, feeling like life was not something I wanted to continue.

The tension and arguement between the rational and the suicidal continued in my head all week. What broke the spell and released me was a dinner on Friday night.

TV and radio personality Helen McDermott was guest speaker and I was MC. The event was a celebration of mental health charity Meridian East's 25th anniversary and the retirement of my friend Alan it's founder.

Helen talked about her own 'coming out' as someone with wavering mental health. She described in her talk so many of the things I experience that it was clear that how I feel is not unique. The evening, the wine, the conversation and the chance to further hone my presentation skills all helped.

Today I feel fine again. Which is just as well, as I'm facing a very busy week

Ever been thrown out of a cafe?

I was last week, from this place in Spitalfields. It was one of my favourite haunts, just five minutes walk from Liverpool Street. A really creative space to talk, drink coffee eat cake and if they're not too busy, whip out my laptop and spend an hour writing on my current book.

All this changed when I suggested it as the perfect venue for Korean film journalist Soo Kim to interview me. As soon as she set her camera up, clipped a mike to my shirt and started filming, we were ejected. The owner told us in no uncertain terms that he doesn't allow filming in his cafe.

Now I would have though that all publicity is good publicity and that even a square metre of his cafe wall, behind my head, on TV in Seoul would be better than a poke in the eye. Clearly not.

We had to decamp and move from a delightful (once friendly) place with character to a modern, soulless cafe just over the road.

I'd love to know why we were really thrown out. Surely no one can be that publicity shy?

I went to church yesterday

As a devout atheist, going to church is not something I regularly do, but yesterday was an exception.

I had a very pleasant lunch with the author Ronald Blythe. He's a lovely man who is still working, despite being in his mid 80s. I can learn so much from him about writing, England and life. He is a delight to be with.

After lunch we went for a walk. He took me to Wiston Church, which was build in 1135 and sits in the grounds of the local Hall. (He explained that churches were build next to the Hall, with the villages evolving later) Ronnie told me how he used to visit this church as a boy, and now comes here to preach.

On the wall is a painting of St Francis of Assisi. Ronnie explained how this was created around 20 years after St Francis died, so in about 1240. That's an awfully long time ago. How did the story of St Francis travel to this quoet corner of Essex? There was no internet, no Ryan Air and in fact nothing much at all - yet people travelled far and wide.

To be confronted with the past when you're rushing headlong through the present is so important. It puts your life in context - it reminds you how insignificant each of us really is!

Retirement - rude word or something to shoot for?

I had a conversation yesterday with someone younger than me. He's a successful, professional fundraiser at the peak of his career.

We talked about our plans for the coming year and beyond. I'm starting a new business (a social enterprise publisher) and he's got the kind of heavy workload that people with a great reputation in their field always collect.

What bothered me was his announcement that he intended to retire somewhere between the ages of 50 and 55. He must be younger than I thought!

I was 53 on Friday and so am in the middle of his 'retirement zone.' When he is my age, he wants to stop working. I on the other hand am still trying to work out what I want to really do when I grow up!

Retirement as our parents knew it is not an option for many any more and thank goodness for that. The idea of deciding one day to stop working, stop earning and most of all, stop contributing to the world seems ghastly to me.

Today I'm off to meet author Ronald Blythe for lunch. He's best known for his book 'Akenfield', published more than 30yrs ago. He's still writing now, at the age of 85. Like me, he has not time for retirement, more the gradual change of lifestyle from' full on/flat out' to something more relaxed and perhaps introspective.

To me, retirement is a rude word . . . . !