I am not surprised that Seb Coe has won his latest race and become president of the International Association of Athletics Federations. He’s tough, politically savvy and tends to win. At least he does when he isn’t burdened by my assistance.
When we both worked for William Hague his speed could sometimes be a nuisance. I had to take out gym membership because I found myself puffing behind the two of them as we climbed stairs or dashed to meetings in the Tory leader’s inconveniently located third-floor office. Actually, it may have been his inconveniently located second-floor office, but it certainly felt like the third floor to me.
The gym membership didn’t help, if I’m honest. But Seb’s speed did have political advantages. As Michael Heseltine’s parliamentary private secretary, Seb saw a Times sketch by Matthew Parris which noted that John Prescott wrote his notes for Commons performances in big letters. So big that Matthew could almost read them from the press gallery. Since Seb had particularly good eyes, he reflected that if Matthew could almost read the notes, he would be able to read them properly. So when Prescott was facing Heseltine across the dispatch box, Seb would sit in the gallery, clock the questions Labour’s deputy leader was about to ask and then run as fast as possible to the chamber. Arriving just ahead of the question being asked, he could let his boss know what was coming.
Mind you, we still lost the election.
Cold comfort
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In Pinner we have taken delivery of a new freezer. Thought you’d like to know. And, since you ask, it’s the Miele frost-free FN11827S. I’m confident that this has all sorts of freezerish advantages over the FN11827R.
The appliance comes with a handy instruction booklet that, among other useful tips, informs me of the noises I can expect it to make and what they mean.
If the freezer goes “brrrrr” this just means that the motor is on. If it goes “blubb, blubb” the coolant is circulating. The expansion of material inside the freezer produces the noise “creak”. When I hear “sssrrrrr” I should take it that air is circulating inside the appliance. And I should note that freezers don’t go “sssrrrrr” if they aren’t frost-free, apparently.
I presume that if the freezer goes “aaaaaaaagh” I am to call a maintenance engineer.
Predictive text is the pits
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Despite the ubiquity of predictive text I never remember to check what I am typing and correct the errors which have been added.
This despite the fact that my friend once sent a text to a distinguished academic contact that he later realised read: “Happy New Twat”.
This week I was in touch with O2 to arrange some changes to my mobile contract. A very nice man called Arpit engaged in one of those live internet chats and I warmed to him, using his name frequently in my replies to show my appreciation and that I wasn’t being impersonal or taking his assistance for granted.
After about ten, as I thought, cordial messages back and forth, he sent me an angry one: “Daniel, my name IS NOT ARMPIT!”
Baby-faced ambassador
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My friend Matthew Gould has returned from a stint as a British ambassador, a post he achieved at an absurdly young age. He still looks too youthful to have held such a role.
When he was heading out to his posting he attended a family party and was introduced to an old couple. The man greeted him warmly: “I think you must be the young man who has become an ambassador.”
Matthew then heard the man’s wife say in a very loud whisper: “Henry, don’t be so ridiculous!”