Reverse Culture Shock

I was a bit surprised today to notice reverse culture shock. I was going for a jog (enjoying the cool mornings), listening to a podcast discussion on the value of democracy and found myself infuriated by the triviality of it all. There are many people without water, electricity, food or healthcare all over the world and yet someone has made a podcast in which they discuss why more young Britons don’t vote. It’s so unimportant! They would vote if they wanted to. The fact probably is that they live in comfortable enough societies and don’t really care.

The other thing that annoys me now is when people on the news complain about things like state pensions or school provisions. These are amazing things already! A free education – that’s a wonderful thing!! And yet what gets reported on the news is people complaining that they didn’t get their choice of school. They should try an exchange program to see what it’s like sending a child to school in Uganda. There they can watch their child do 12 years of schooling, paying money to send them to go to a government school, and still emerge unable to speak English (the country’s official language). Next to that our problems seem pretty small. If we’re going to live in a world where there are massive inequalities, the privileged half ought at least to appreciate it!

As I was thinking this I notice that someone (presumably the local council) had put down a new path in the field I was running in. I decided to follow it. It was very nice but potentially also a little unnecessary. Maybe someone could have taken that money and donated it to send 30 Ugandan children to school.

I trust this reverse culture shock will wear off soon. It doesn’t do to be so anxty.

National benevolence is confusing HMRC

It’s so hard to tax my car! It’s almost as if the government don’t want me to (actually, this is probably true, then they can fine me for not having done so). It may not help that all my post comes to me via my parents' house and so has to be rerouted. This could be how I came to miss all the reminder letters. Their online service was the obvious way to renew my tax disc, but as is always the case with HMRC, I couldn't login because they (as always) had posted me some set of essential and confidential number that I couldn't find. Then on the phone I was told that the code I’d (by then) received wasn't the code I’d received (which it obviously was, as I wouldn’t have got it any other way). It was due to expire within 24 hours of the call anyway so I went to the post office to speak to a real human and they told me they couldn’t do anything unless I could prove ownership of the car. WTF?! As if I’d go to such great effort to tax someone else’s car!! What kind of crazy benevolent culture do HMRC think we live in?! It must be nice in the UK tax HQ.

Posh kebabs?!

I was so tired by the time I left work this evening that I couldn't decide what to do about food. I even texted mum to tell her this, which is a reflection of the extent to which I totally wasn't functioning! (This also made me worry (briefly) about the content of the emails that I'd been sending before leaving the office!) Anyway, I ended up going to get a 'posh Kebab' at a shop called Chifafa. This is something I've been meaning to try for a while - There is everything intriguing about an oxymoronic concept like that. The problem is that I was then too worn out to develop a comprehensive opinion on the matter! The 'medium' level of spice was significantly more lively than it was mediocre and I'm not sure if I can ever feel indulged while eating meat wrapped in bread - it's not really that far removed from a glorified sandwich. On the other hand it was significantly better than the kebabs I was served in Istanbul at the weekend; the meat was properly BBQ-ed and it wasn't served out of a polystyrene tray but a foil wrap (like any self respecting burrito). No one could accuse it of being a greasy late night option for desperadoes (not least because the shop shuts at 9pm).  This synopsis seems to have covered everything but taste. The problem is that I like eating, most things taste good to me and this was no exception. Certainly it was good enough to go back another day. In my wretchedly tired state I then slipped into some sort of philosophical stupor. Can a kebab ever be up-market? Is it really enough to put good quality ingredients in or is it by nature a squalid supper. Then, even if it is posh, is it ever any good?! I never did answer these questions, I think they may be the basis of hardcore philosophy. The next time someone tries to draw me in on politics or God I'm going to ask them if they think a kebab can ever be posh. That'll stump them!