The Poet

I was tempted to call this post Poetry is Rubbish.

The truth is that generally I find what’s known as serious poetry genuinely is rubbish, a sort of pseudo-intellectual bullshit similar to contemporary art.

Contemporary artists use paint, bricks, unmade beds or in some cases absolutely nothing to appeal to pseudo-intellectuals, inspiring them to wax lyrical about what the painting says to them, using quotes from philosophers and basically talking nonsense to make themselves seem to be more clever than the rest of us.

Some poets do exactly the same – but with words instead of weird materials.

When I was at school, my English teacher forced me to write a critical essay comparing two poems about horses. I read them both and didn’t understand a bloody word. I didn’t trust my English teacher, a man who had forced me to read The Mayor of Casterbridge (arguably the worst book I have ever read) and hailed William Shakespeare as a kind of modern genius (read my post Shakespeare is Rubbish  for my thoughts on the bard).

I was tempted to write the shortest critical essay ever:

The poems are both about horses and they are both rubbish.

Instead, I pretended to be a pseudo-intellectual and wrote a load of old horseshit (pardon the pun). Guess what? I got a good grade and that essay helped me to pass my O-Level English Literature. Incidentally, I had to write essays about William Shakespeare’s plays and The Mayor of Casterbridge as well.

My only conclusion is that all you have to do succeed in English Literature is pretend to be a pseudo-intellectual.

I stand by this.

In fact, I once wrote a poem on this very blog. The poem was proof that anybody can devolve into a pseudo-intellectual and, with the aid of a dictionary and thesaurus, can come up with any old rubbish.

Here for your pleasure (or otherwise) that poem entitled The Loquacious Figment:

I contemplated the torso of a despondent galactic masterpiece

And my heart thanked my voracious sight.

I hastened my swiftness, disoriented by my awareness

Yet somehow did not submit to fright.

It’s utter garbage. Don’t let anybody tell you any different. It took me about two minutes to write.

If there is anybody who thinks it is good, then let me know and I will write an entire book filled with this kind of nonsense and – perhaps – make some money out of it.

Yeah right!!!!

Anyway, you are probably wondering why I decided not to call this post Poetry is Rubbish. The truth is that there are poems out there that I actually quite like. These are usually silly limericks, puerile nonsense and, most importantly of all, the works of terrific songwriters.

Songs are simply poems put to music and I have some terrific thought-provoking songs in my collection that can stand alone as poetry.

Here are some examples of silly little limericks:

A stupid young man from Crewe

Once decided to build a canoe.

When out on the river

He found, with a shiver, 

He’d forgot to use waterproof glue

A funny young fellow named Perkins

Was terribly fond of small gherkins.

One day after tea

He ate ninety three

And pickled his internal workings.

I have also written poetry for a couple of friends on their birthdays. Here’s an example (with the names changed to protect the guilty):

A new decade's upon you; it's your 50th today.

The little hair that you have left will soon be turning grey.

You still play squash and cycle, to cling onto your youth.

But soon your muscles will give way, along with every tooth.

And when your gums are toothless (and chewing is a chore)

The only food you'll manage will be sucked up through a straw.

You take your lady dancing (Mimi is her name)

But believe me, waltzing's tricky when you use a zimmer frame.

Your pension is approaching more quickly than you think.

But forget that for the moment - we'll buy you lots of drink

To wish you HAPPY BIRTHDAY and, if I may be so bold,

To make sure you remember, Bill, that you are VERY OLD.

Now I’m over fifty myself, I think that might have hurt.

Moving on to songs, I think that the words can be almost as powerful as the music itself. In some cases, the words actually elevate a song for me. Here are some examples:

Rush – Nobody’s Hero

Dream Theater – The Answer Lies Within

I can only conclude therefore that poetry is not rubbish, only those pretentious poems seemingly auto-generated from a dictionary.

Well, I feel inspired to write another on for you, dear reader. Picture the scene. I have opened my browser and have begun looking for quotes from celebrated philosophers. I am devolving into a pseudo-intellectual.

I am now an arrogant smartarse who is looking down on the world. My inspiration is complete. In the words of Plato:

“The beginning is the most important part of the work”.

I present to you: The Enigmatic Equation:

The imperceptible formula, cloaked in derangement,

Struggles to reveal its worth.

Yet the analyst blindly persists in frustration

Anticipating its Caesarian birth 

What a load of gibberish. I hope you agree.

Over to you, dear reader.

Do you like poetry?

If so, does all of it make sense to you? Am I just being thick?

Do song lyrics inspire you?

The Inner Child

My eldest son Stephen graduated on Friday. At the same time, my youngest son, Michael,  is about to embark on the same journey, starting his own university course in September, hopefully.

I am fiercely proud of their achievement, particularly Stephen, who will soon be settling into a new job.

His adventure is just beginning.

At the graduation ceremony, I watched as lots of people were honoured, all dressed in gowns and hats surrounded by loving families and friends. As I applauded each and every one of them, I looked around at the other proud people smiling and clapping – and one minor negative thing was gnawing away at my delight.

It was a thought and it grew stronger. The thought was:

“Boy, am I getting old!”

I see younger colleagues at work with young children, each of whom are doting parents of children ranging from new born babies to those just about to enter their teenage years. And I remember when my two boys were that age.

It seems like a lifetime ago.

My lads are grown men, with their own outlook on life, their own opinions, their own likes and dislikes and their own plans for the future.

Three Men and a Lady

I am so proud of them but at the same time, I miss that childlike innocence that made me laugh yet at the same time allowed me to become a child again. Seeing the two of them in suits on Friday made me realise that I no longer have an excuse to allow my mental age to manifest itself into physical behaviour without looking like a complete idiot.

What’s more, in my fifties I am aware that the next major stage for me is retirement. Okay, that is quite far away – a good fifteen years – but when that happens I will officially be an old git.

Me in fifteen years?

I looked around some old blog posts and when I started writing this drivel I was forty five years old (it’s amazing that I am now in my eighth year of bloggery). 

What has happened to the time?

In another eight years I will be in my sixties. All my droopy bits will droop even more. My wild and feral hair will look like a mad old tribble and my old face look like the Grand Canyon.

My hair in my sixties?

How scary is that? 

I do have one advantage though. I don’t actually look my age so maybe – just maybe – people won’t think I’m a pensioner. The other benefit of having a young looking face is that my two lads have both inherited by youthful countenance. As I stood at the bar on Friday having just bought a celebratory round of drinks, both of my lads were questioned about their age. 

“Does that annoy you?” I asked. “It used to annoy me.”

Stephen just laughed as he put his driving license away.

“I’ve been used to it for four years now,” he said. Michael agreed but at the age of nineteen, he shrugged and said “And I’ll still have to get used to it I suppose.”

While the ageing process may seem depressing, I think it’s a good thing to keep the inner child alive, the one that has made me embarrass my own kids by behaving immaturely. I am still young enough to just about get away with behaving like a child sometimes and I love it when I am able to.

Mrs PM constantly reminds me of my immaturity. 

I think that it’s fun to release that inner child every so often and I don’t ever plan to stop. I think that as long as you have a youthful outlook on life your mind and body will follow and make you appear to be younger – which is an added bonus for me because I don’t look my age.

I just hope that I don’t suddenly wake up one morning having aged drastically overnight. 

Actually, scratch that! I don’t really care. As long as I’m happy and I can still walk around without pain I’ll be delighted.

Even if I can’t walk around without pain, I’m sure that I’ll be able to lift up a laptop and release my inner child on this blog.

That will do nicely.

Top Ten Classic Science Fiction Series

Last year, I listed my top ten science fiction shows, including a couple of classic shows that in my opinion stood the test of time. While compiling that list, I discarded quite a few classic science fiction shows that I enjoyed as a kid in the late 1960’s and 1970’s.

The reason these shows were cast away was that they were actually almost embarrassing to watch as an adult all these years later. At the time, in my evolving mind, I thoroughly enjoyed them and I have to say that without them, none of the shows of today would exist.

I think they deserve praise because there were some episodes that I really enjoyed, even watching them again all of those years later.

Star Trek, Dr Who and Space 1999 made my original list, so these will not be mentioned again.

Let’s dive in shall we?

10. Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea

Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea was initially a film and it spawned the series of the same name. The series was set on board a nuclear submarine called Seaview and recounted the adventures of the intrepid crew who encountered all manner of evil sea monsters and even aliens. The stories started off with espionage but gradually introduced weirder elements.

The plots were relatively straightforward and the good guys usually won in the end. Nevertheless, along the way,  the submarine usually suffered, mostly due to monsters roaming around the vessel, somehow finding the control room and ripping out wires and cables, resulting the submarine hitting the bottom of the sea.

You would have thought that if the captain had stationed a couple of guards outside the control room, life would have been so much easier for the crew.

9. The Invisible Man

I loved the novel of the same name by H.G.Wells and the whole concept of invisibility fascinates me. The series of the same name from the 1970s was very entertaining, if a little simplified, and it starred David McCallum, famous from another cult 1960’s show The Man From U.N.C.L.E.

At the time, I loved the special effects. These days they look a little dated.

Sadly the series didn’t last very long, which is a shame. In my opinion, there was a lot of scope for storylines.

8. Blake’s 7

Blake’s 7 is the story of a group of galactic rebels battling against a totalitarian state, led by, as the name suggests, a man called Blake. And it was British, produced by the Terry Nation, the man who invented the Daleks.

Although the special effects are quite tacky, I liked the story and the struggle of this group of renegades against the mighty Terran Federation.

The group often cross swords with the evil Servalan, a ruthless power-hungry woman.

To be honest, I haven’t watched any repeats of the series since the late 1970’s. Perhaps I shouldn’t so that I don’t ruin my memories of it.

7. Land of the Giants

Land of the Giants was the story of the survivors of a crashed ship that was caught in a weird anomaly and whisked off to a planet inhabited by giants. The survivors were known as little people and had to deal with colossal insects, cats and, worst of all, terrible plotlines.

I thought the show was hilarious – even as a kid. Each episode had roughly the same plot, with a few minor variations;

One or more of the little people are captured by a giant with an ulterior motive. The remaining little people rescue them.

That’s basically it.

The show was perfect for a young child like I was at the time, but when I watched the show again in the 1990’s that initial innocent magic was lost. I did see one of the giant telephones when I visited Universal Studios in Los Angeles and it was very impressive. That’s why I’ve popped the show in at number 7.

And the funniest thing about the show?

It was set in 1983!!!

6. Planet of the Apes

I loved the original Planet of the Apes films. I even read the books as a small child (Conquest of the Planet of the Apes was my favourite).  It’s no surprise that the TV series that followed the movies would be on the list of my favourite classic science fiction series.

The concept is wonderful. Based on the original film, two astronauts crash land on Earth 2000 years in the future, having encountered a time portal of some kind in space. In the meantime, a huge cataclysm has occurred on Earth, resulting in intelligent apes becoming the dominant species.

In the series, I loved the main bad guy, a gorilla called Urko wo pursued the astronauts and Galen, the chimp played by Roddy McDowell in their quest to find a solution to their predicament.

Sadly, the series was cancelled prematurely (do not rant, Dave!!!).

5. The Time Tunnel

Of all the science fiction concepts out there, time travel intrigues me most of all. Unfortunately, science fiction writers don’t always consider the potential paradoxes associated with travelling to the past, or indeed, the future.

The Time Tunnel, while very interesting and enjoyable, used to infuriate me because of the plot holes. Basically, the show was the story of two scientists trapped in time and unable to be returned to their own time period. Every week, they were dumped into a past period, for example in the city of Jericho before the walls came down. Miraculously, wherever they landed and in whichever country, the people always spoke English and refused to ask why they had weird clothes – the SAME clothes, I should add.

And they certainly interfered with past events with little regard for the consequences of their actions. It seemed okay though because their observers from the future, the team who were trying to retrieve them, didn’t suffer any after effects, like popping out of esixtence.

Plot holes aside, I actually thought it was a very good series, one that I would have liked to have written an episode for.

4. The Six Million Dollar Man

Whenever I ran in the local park I became the Steve Austin, the bionic man. The theme tune to the show would run through my head as I imagined chasing cars and using my bionic arm to punch holes in walls and beat up bad guys – just like the clip above where he encounters Bigfoot.

Yes – I was a huge fan of this show. It was perfect for a twelve year old geek with a huge and active imagination.

I loved the show so much that when Lee Majors turned up later as The Fall Guy I refused to watch it because I didn’t want to imagine Steve Austin as anybody else.

Looking back at the show now, it seems dated, particularly the slow motion portrayal of Steve’s super speed.

I can forgive that though. Lee Majors will always be Steve Austin – don’t believe anything else.

3. Lost in Space

Lost in Space was so bad it was brilliant. By far the best character was Dr Zachary Smith, a cowardly man who thought only about himself. To me he was the star of the show and his verbal duals with the Robot were highly amusing.

To be honest, if it wasn’t for these two characters, I wouldn’t have watched the show. They kept it fresh and interesting (the others were kind of boring really).

Again, with my imagination, I would have loved to have penned an episode or two of the show as some of the episodes weren’t that good. Nevertheless, the best episodes were brilliant and always had Dr Smith at the heart of them – hence this lofty position.

As an aside, the recent film based on the series was not very good, apart from the revamped theme by the band Apollo 440:

2. The Incredible Hulk

The Hulk is my favourite Marvel character and I am delighted that he is the star of the two recent Avengers movies. Of course, before that, he was portrayed by Lou Ferrigno in this wonderful TV series.

I have watched a few episodes recently and while a little dated, I still looked forward to the parts where David Banner, played brilliantly by Bill Bixby, would evolve into the violent green monster and smash things to pieces.

One of the best things about the show was David’s struggle to find a cure for his condition, something that was perfectly captured in the closing credits of each episode with the solitary and very sad piano music:

1. UFO

Of all the classic science fiction series, only three made it into my all-time Top 10. UFO very nearly did.

The reason it didn’t was that it was quite dated. Supposedly set in 1980, it seemed like a weird version of the 1960’s.

That’s my only criticism. UFO was an intelligent and slightly disturbing series about a secret organisation called SHADO, that protected the Earth from mysterious aliens. The function of SHADO was to keep the existence of these aliens secret while at the same time trying to work out what their hostile goals were.

The aliens were humanoid but quite scary. Their skin was green because they breathed a green liquid.

There was enough to appeal to both kids and adults. I loved the Interceptors and had a model of my own, which fired a missile and gave me hours of fun. I have seen the odd repeat as an adult and if you ignore the obvious 1960’s influence, the stories are genuinely good and menacing. Even the end credits were spooky:

This is a prime candidate for a modern reboot.

And finally …

Over to you, dear reader:

Have you seen any of these classic shows? 

Are there any shows that I missed that might be worth investigating?

The Robot Restaurant

I still have no idea what the show was about, even two years after the event. I’ve had a long time to think about it, to ponder the plot twists, to decipher the amazing music and to try to make any sense of the weird spectacle that was presented to us on the night of 7th May 2013 in Tokyo – but the truth is I can’t.

Mrs PM and I were wondering where to eat that evening and she spotted something on Tripadvisor; the Robot Restaurant in Shinjuku, Tokyo.

It was relatively near to our hotel and it seemed like a good idea. We found it after a short search. It was easy to spot because there was a robot standing outside.

Mrs PM meets her first robot of the evening

I was slightly sceptical at this point but I stuck with it and before we knew, we found ourselves in a brightly coloured neon waiting room, before being led downstairs to the stage area. The wall decorations were reminiscent of a heavy metal album cover. 

If I form a rock band, this will be the cover of our first album

We found ourselves in a large brightly coloured room with three rows of seats on either side and a stage area at each end. Having collected our Bento Box and a small beer we found a seat at one end of the stage on a back row.

The food was minimal and the beer refreshing and this was our meal. What followed was a show that is quite difficult to describe.

On the stage right next to me, a group of scantily clad women suddenly appeared with brightly coloured dragons and started bashing huge bongo drums. Other equally barely dressed young ladies appeared in the centre of the room dancing and playing instruments.

And so it begins

Next, more women appeared, dressed as soldiers, one sitting on a cannon with more playing instruments and dancing.

I'm glad the cannon was pointing the other way

Somebody should say something about those uniforms

“What’s going on?” I asked Mrs PM, feeling a little stupid.

“Absolutely no idea,” she replied.

We were offered a fluorescent tube each and encouraged to wave them about as the next stage of the performance started. More scantily clad women appeared as a precursor to even more robots and women covered in neon tubes, who proceeded to drive around the performance area. 

I used the fluorescent tubes in an attempt to kickstart my brain.

It didn't help me understand

From this point on confusion reigned and I simply watched the spectacle in front of me, as huge female robots ridden by more scantily clad women rolled up in front of me. Lasers flooded across the room with loud music blaring out and I blindly waved my fluorescent tube in the air because everybody else was. 

More giant robots appeared with more scantily clad women dancing around them and singing songs. At this stage, I decided to simply switch off my brain and go with the flow. 

The problem was that I had no idea what the flow was and devolved into a cross between a rabbit caught in the headlights and a young child copying everything everybody else was doing. 

Dinosaurs versus Robots

Random Robots

Rise of the Fembota

A Big Mean Robot

Robot Party

Then the show abruptly ended and we were allowed to meet the stars of the show – the fembots, the giant robots the normal sized robots. 

My new robot army

Our new pet Robot

“Well that was fun,” I said. 

But wait – it wasn’t over. We were all directed back to our seats and the female stars of the show came to each of us in turn and high-fived us. Before I could comment, another group of scantily clad women mounted chairs above us and moved past in unison high-fiving us all as they past while others drove motorbikes and danced.

The climax of the show was the neon tank that I mentioned in my previous post plus a neon aircraft with even more scantily clad women hanging from the wings.

Here is a video that we tried to take to give you some idea of the spectacle that we witnessed.

In fact, if you have seen the Muse video Panic Station the last part of it was filmed in the Robot Restaurant complete with fembots, a dinosaur, the plane and the tank.

I’ll be they had as much fun filming that as we did enjoying this amazing experience.

When I go back to Tokyo, I will go back there, if nothing else to try to make some sense of it all.

Cars, Trains, Bikes ... and a Tank

I was looking through some recent photographs and I noticed that I had taken quite a few pictures of various modes of transport.

I’m not really interested in cars, trains and motorbikes to be honest, but when I see an interesting vehicle, I do feel compelled to take a photo of it.

I thought I would share a few with you, dear reader in the hope that you find them as interesting as I did when I captured them, starting with the car above, which I saw at a classic car show in Manchester.

I spotted the car below in a multistory car park in Bordeaux. I think it's meant to serve as a warning to drivers to be careful when driving around corners.

The truck below was parked outside a James Dean themed restaurant in Prague, in the Czech Republic. It was a great advert for a very enjoyable place.

In Collioure, in the south of France, they also use a car to advertise a restaurant.

Regular readers will know that I love the city of Hong Kong and the double-decker trams in that wonderful city are iconic - and cheap too.

In Europe, we rarely see bikes as beautiful as the one below. We have to go across the pond to Boston to catch a glimpse.

Below is another couple of classic cars I spotted at a show in Manchester.

Back across the Atlantic Ocean in Alaska, there is a very enjoyable way to tour Skagway.

In Canada, in the past, a rather special vehicle was required to take tourists onto a glacier. 

These days, the Canadians have replaced it with a monster bus whose wheels are almost as tall as I am.

In a warmer climate, its obvious that there are people in Monte Carlo have a little more disposable income than the rest of us.

And a few kilometres away, in the French city of Cannes, the story is the same. Here is a random car I discovered parked outside the shops.

Before the wall came down in Berlin, East Germans drove around in tiny little cars called Trabants. These days, they also use them to advertise shops.

In Japan, you can travel the length and breadth of the country in super fast Shinkansen bullet trains. They roar through train stations at such high velocities that if you are standing on a platform it is actually almost a scary experience. The picture below was my fourth attempt at capturing this magnificent train. 

Japan is the only place in the world where you will find a neon tank. It is probably the most wonderful place I have ever visited and probably the strangest too. Only in Japan would you experience the Robot Restaurant and find yourself face to face with the tank below while eating your meal and witnessing what I can only describe as the weirdest but most entertaining show I have ever seen.

I will tell you more about the Robot Restaurant in a future post.

The tank was one of the more sensible parts of the show. 

I'll bet you can't wait to hear about it.

Rock Music Through The Decades

Rock music is dead.

Or so it is claimed by purveyors of crap music, like Kanye West. It makes me laugh that there are so many people out there convinced that this fact is true. However, the truth is that despite being given vary little airplay, relatively speaking, rock music thrives and is arguably far more popular now than it has ever been.

In fact, rock music has been around for my entire lifetime and show no signs of disappearing.

So with this in mind, I want to follow up the post Pop Music Through The Decades  with a new post focussing on some of my favourite rock songs during my lifetime.

As you can imagine I have a huge number of songs to pick from so I will choose songs by artists you will have heard of, rather than some of the more obscure bands and artists.

I hope you like them – and remember – rock will never die!

1960’s – Led Zeppelin – Dazed and Confused

Many people consider Led Zeppelin to be the founders of heavy metal.

I disagree – I think that honour goes to Black Sabbath. However, for me, Led Zeppelin were the first major rock band and my favourite album is their eponymous first album, released way back in 1969.

The album is clearly a rock album but also blended with blues influences. The song Dazed and Confused is my favourite from the album and starts like a true blues song before accelerating into a magnificent rock opus.

Robert Plant has a magnificent voice and sings the song with such passion that you feel his pain.

1970’s – AC/DC – Let There Be Rock



The best band to come out of Australia are still going strong today, having survived the tragic loss of their lead singer, Bon Scott, when the band was supposedly at its peak in the late 1970’s.

The band recovered almost immediately with Brian Johnson taking over and have gone from strength to strength.

I love this band but my favourite song, Let There Be Rock, encapsulates everything I love about the band. It is Bon Scott’s greatest moment as a singer.

In fact, it is my ringtone - and certainly wakes people up in the office.

“Let there be light – sound – drums – guitar – LET THERE BE ROCK!!!

You can’t put it any more succinctly than that.

1980’s – Whitesnake – Crying in the Rain (1982 version).

You may know Whitesnake as a big hair metal rock band that took America by storm in the late 1980’s with lead singer David Coverdale becoming a massive heartthrob for a generation of American women who fell in love with his music.

However, before then, Whitesnake were reasonably big in the UK but their style of music was more blues oriented. Although I like their American influenced period, I much prefer the period when they made an impact in the UK from the late 1970’s to early 1980’s.

To me that’s when their music was at its peak.

This song is a blues masterpiece, so much so that David Coverdale rerecorded it with his new Americanised version of the band in 1987. Sadly, that version is a shadow of the original from 1982.

Whitesnake are another band that are still going strong, albeit in a slightly different style again. In fact I am going to see them again later this year. They are sharing the bill with Def Leppard which leads me nicely to …

 1990’s – Def Leppard  - Pearl of Euphoria

Def Leppard have survived double tragedy. First, their drummer, Rick Allen, lost his arm in a car crash, something that you may think would have marked the end of his career. Amazingly, he recovered and with the help of a special drum kit, he resumed playing with just one arm. Secondly, the guitarist, Steve Clark, tragically died at the age of only thirty.

You would have thought that such tragedies would have killed the band. It didn’t and they are still going strong.

The band were at their peak in the 1980’s but this particular song from the 1990’s is one of my all time favourites. Another slightly blues influenced song, this is Def Leppard at their very best.

2000’s – Metallica – The Day That Never Comes

Metallica are another band that have been around since the 1980’s and are still going strong today. Their style of music is very fast heavy metal and nothing is better than cranking up the volume when feeling down and losing yourself in a wall of sonic perfection.

This song starts off very peacefully and gradually builds up to a wonderful heavy metal anthem with an amazing guitar driven instrumental crescendo – just the kind of song I like.

2010’s – Deep Purple – Vincent Price

Deep Purple have been around since the 1960’s – almost all of my life in fact – and they are still releasing music. One of the founding fathers of rock and heavy metal, I have loved this band since the 1970’s and throughout the line-up changes they have thrived, despite a hiatus in the late 1970’s early 1980’s.

The line up is very different now but the lead vocalist, Ian Gillan, still has a superb voice, despite being in his late 60’s.

It seems apt that the last and most recent song is by a band that’s been around from the very start again proving that rock will never die.

And Finally...

I hope you liked the songs.

There are plenty more where those came from.

Hell in a Metal Sausage (Part Two)

In the past 6 weeks I have spent a week in Bologna, Italy, a week in Prague and a week in Beijing.

I am totally sick of airports.

Last week I was in China on a work trip that combined two of my major fears; Chinese toilets and public speaking (I was running a training course). 

My trip also involved a major hatred of mine; long haul flying.

I was pleasantly surprised that my fears did not manifest themselves. Beijing is a forward looking city and the toilets I encountered were all decent and western style (as opposed to the disgusting squatters that are still commonplace). My training course went without a single hitch and my fear of standing in front of (at most) ten people and waffling on for four days never actually manifested into anything more than a dry throat.

My Chinese colleagues were excellent hosts; the hotel was perfect and the food was some of the best I have tasted (though I did avoid pig brain as a delicacy).

However, the flights were a bloody nightmare.

It all started off well enough. I caught a domestic flight from Manchester to London Heathrow and arrived in plenty of time for my connecting flight. I even managed to acquire my Chinese currency without a hitch. Moreover, the flight to Beijing boarded on time and at the correct time, I was sitting in my seat, next to an elderly Chinese gentleman, waiting for the plane to push back.

That’s when everything turned to rat shit.

First of all, the captain spoke, saying something like, “We have a minor technical hitch that will delay us for about ten minutes. We’ll hopefully be on our way in due course.”

The temperature in the aircraft began to climb.

Ten minutes later, the captain came on again.

“We’re still waiting to resolve this technical issue. We’ll let you know more in fifteen minutes.”

The temperature in the aircraft continued to rise.

This process was repeated several times until two hours after our allotted take off time. By this time, it was like an oven in the aircraft. The stewardesses had offered us water and apologised about the temperature but “there’s nothing we can do.”

Finally, the inevitable happened. “We’re sorry – we can’t fix the fault and there isn’t another aircraft. The flight is therefore cancelled.”

What followed was a series of barked instructions about how to leave the airport, get hotel vouchers etc. The majority of the passengers were Chinese and, although they were all informed about the problem in Mandarin, every last one of them that I saw looked worried and confused.  I was lucky in a sense because I could leave the airport and get a head start as I am a UK citizen. I managed to get off the plane, through immigration and collect my baggage while the poor Chinese people were queuing and trying to explain why they were coming back into the UK.

However, it took ages for me to get to my hotel. Getting the hotel voucher and meal tokens wasn’t too bad. It was the shuttle bus service that was terrible. We had vouchers for this but I discovered that they cost £5 a pop for a one way trip normally. In a lot of other cities I've been to, hotels offer a free shuttle to the airport - not in London where they take every opportunity to releive you of your cash.

The service is infrequent and, once you have found out which one to catch, it takes bloody ages to get to your hotel via numerous others. 

What a bloody rip off.

When I finally got to the hotel a couple of hours later, I had to queue to check in with others from the flight. 

And I was drenched in sweat. I was paranoid that everybody around me were about to pass out, overwhelmed by foul body odour - although in truth I reckon everybody else was suffering from the same bout of paranoia.

Checking in took ages too. I finally got to my room and I was ravenous and desperate for a cold beer to cool me down. Sadly, the “dinner” I was offered was just a weird buffet and beer was not an option.

I ate it (I would have eaten pig brain at this point) and then found the hotel bar to satisfy my thirst for a cold pint of San Miguel.

As I sat watching the dying seconds of the Champions League final, I saw lots of unfortunate Chinese people from my flight just arriving, having suffered my trauma to get the hotel but far, far later than I did.

I retired to my room and informed my manager and my Chinese colleague, who was supposed to be meeting me, that I wouldn’t be arriving until a day later.

The next morning I had a semi decent breakfast and asked reception about the bus service. I had to get to the terminal again by ten o’clock. At eight o'clock I checked the queue for the shuttle bus and found it was enormous. I ran back to my room, threw all my stuff in the suitcase and checked out of the hotel to join the queue. I was prepared to grab a cab but there were none to be found. The first bus arrived and within minutes it was full. I had to wait for another hour before I managed to get on a bus.

There seemed to be no scope for ordering emergency buses to accommodate the vast number of passengers wanting to get to the airport.

I ended up standing up for half an hour hanging on for dear life as the bus swung around corners. If I didn't have a voucher this journey would have cost me five bloody pounds.

I arrived at ten o’clock and marched up to check in again only to find that the check-in desk wasn’t quite open. One very eloquent Chinese person came to ask me in broken English about checking in and I told her the situation. Other Chinese people saw this and then came and started asking me as well. 

Before I knew it I was attracting confused Chinese passengers like a magnet attracts iron filings.

Being a nice guy and desperately wanting to help, I tried my best to inform them in simple English but as I did so, I noticed that some of the airport staff’s techniques were to simply raise their voices – as if speaking louder made their English clearer. 

You would have thought that they would have made a staff member available who spoke Mandarin just to assist on a rescheduled flight to Beijing.

Well, needless to say I finally made it on the plane and arrived in Beijing a day late, meaning that I had to rush through my five day course in four days.

The return journey was not a problem, thankfully - that is until I reached London Heathrow again. My flight back to Manchester took off an hour and a half after its scheduled time. I arrived home last night, totally exhausted and crawled into bed, in a state of total bleariness having had no sleep for almost 23 hours.

Regular readers will know that I love travelling but hate long haul flights.

And do you know what? This is the second time I’ve been delayed for 24 hours – the last time was flying back from Thailand. On that occasion I almost had a fight with a man who accused me of pushing his wife. 

After that event, I decided this time to approach the situation with a calm demeanour and, although I was fuming, I had a smile on my face – well in public anyway. Inside, I amazed and shocked myself about how many expletives were racing around my brain trying to find their way to my mouth.

To conclude this post, I just want to reassure that I think travel is wonderful – it’s getting to your destination that is the hard part.

I'll tell you about the other trips in the next week or so but until then I only have one thing to say:

I bloody hate airports.