In case anyone still checks this I've set up a new blog about my new job/life/mental breakdown called Musings from a Marginal which can be seen at the blogspot address of the same name!
Enjoy/Tolerate/Ignore at your leisure!
Wednesday 17 October 2007
Monday 16 July 2007
Signing off...
Alright all, this is the last installment which to be honest I should of written a while back but oh well, shit happens!
Well I last left you as I was about to embark on a visit to London town for an interview. Before the interview I was forced to kill several hours of time so I had arranged to meet a friend for coffee where she worked. Oh yeah, and it just so happened that she works at No 10 Downing Street. Yep, thats right No10-chuffing-Downing Street!!!
So it gets to the time I'm supposed to meet her and she's told me just to go up to the gates and say who I am. Simple. A little too simple to my mind... I mean where is all the security and bomb proof walls and shoot-first-ask-questions-later style policing that we're getting so enamoured with in this 24/7 News channel War on Terror?!?!?!
But she was right, I showed some id and hey presto I was through the gates and on Downing Street - there wasn't even a side door or something for staff, it was just a matter of walking through THE front door! How exciting can you get!!! I even had a chat with the Bobby standing on the front step!
THe place was quite a strange house to be in, bit of a maze to be honest but it just stank of history and scandal and self-importance, fan-fucking-tastic! I was shown where Thatcher and Cherie had had the decorators in at various points, where Blair shook hands with Noel Gallacher the staircase with all the photos of PMs on and the patio where Blair liked to have his meetings. I saw the entrance to the PMs Private flat as well which I was told 'used to be the PMs flat but is now the Chancellor's... oh no hang on!'
Bless her, she was virtualy the only member of staff at No 10 to survive the purge after Blair went so I guessgive her some slack, you could tell it was a hard time for her. We finished off having a coffee in the basement (yep thats right) in a coffee shop that may as well been a Costa Coffee shop- the only real difference being that BBC Parliament was on the telly.
After that it was to my interview in Portculis House - the newish building which houses MPs offices. The security here was top notch - as soon as you were through the revolving door you were confronted with a metal detector, bomb proof glass and security pass doors between you and the rest of the building. Just to add a real element of invading personal space everyone gets a free body search on the house as well!!! No 10 could learn a few lessons here!
That night I went out for a few pints with the friend I was staying with and saw somebody get thrown out of the Pub for smoking at the Bar... Top quality entertainment as he f-ing and blinding as he was escorted off the premises!
Since that week everything has been abit of a blur - travelling round for interviews, going to Strasbourg for a week and tying up loose ends here. I travel back to the UK tomorrow and bomb up to York for another Interview and then that's that - I'm back! So I guess this is it.
George in Brussels signing off...
Well I last left you as I was about to embark on a visit to London town for an interview. Before the interview I was forced to kill several hours of time so I had arranged to meet a friend for coffee where she worked. Oh yeah, and it just so happened that she works at No 10 Downing Street. Yep, thats right No10-chuffing-Downing Street!!!
So it gets to the time I'm supposed to meet her and she's told me just to go up to the gates and say who I am. Simple. A little too simple to my mind... I mean where is all the security and bomb proof walls and shoot-first-ask-questions-later style policing that we're getting so enamoured with in this 24/7 News channel War on Terror?!?!?!
But she was right, I showed some id and hey presto I was through the gates and on Downing Street - there wasn't even a side door or something for staff, it was just a matter of walking through THE front door! How exciting can you get!!! I even had a chat with the Bobby standing on the front step!
THe place was quite a strange house to be in, bit of a maze to be honest but it just stank of history and scandal and self-importance, fan-fucking-tastic! I was shown where Thatcher and Cherie had had the decorators in at various points, where Blair shook hands with Noel Gallacher the staircase with all the photos of PMs on and the patio where Blair liked to have his meetings. I saw the entrance to the PMs Private flat as well which I was told 'used to be the PMs flat but is now the Chancellor's... oh no hang on!'
Bless her, she was virtualy the only member of staff at No 10 to survive the purge after Blair went so I guessgive her some slack, you could tell it was a hard time for her. We finished off having a coffee in the basement (yep thats right) in a coffee shop that may as well been a Costa Coffee shop- the only real difference being that BBC Parliament was on the telly.
After that it was to my interview in Portculis House - the newish building which houses MPs offices. The security here was top notch - as soon as you were through the revolving door you were confronted with a metal detector, bomb proof glass and security pass doors between you and the rest of the building. Just to add a real element of invading personal space everyone gets a free body search on the house as well!!! No 10 could learn a few lessons here!
That night I went out for a few pints with the friend I was staying with and saw somebody get thrown out of the Pub for smoking at the Bar... Top quality entertainment as he f-ing and blinding as he was escorted off the premises!
Since that week everything has been abit of a blur - travelling round for interviews, going to Strasbourg for a week and tying up loose ends here. I travel back to the UK tomorrow and bomb up to York for another Interview and then that's that - I'm back! So I guess this is it.
George in Brussels signing off...
Monday 2 July 2007
Ups and downs, sun and snow...
As I write this it is a nice sunny evening.
As it should be.
A few hours ago it was snowing.
Which I'm pretty sure - correct me if I'm wrong - ISN'T SUPPOSSED TO SODDING HAPPEN IN SODDING JULY!!! So there, Yorkshire and Wimbledon are not the only places to have crap weather in July, although no one has died yet here - unlike Wimbledon - poor Henman.
No matter, the straight was completed with the crazy thunder storms in between. Besides it doesn't matter, at the moment I'd quite happily sing in the snow as well as the rain, but I'm not going into why I'm so happy because I'm not so there! You'll get what you're given and if that snotty-nosed little bastard Oliver asks for some more he'll get a damned good thrashing!
Last week Chris and his friend Luke visited, which in turn led to meeting their friend Henri - who happens to work for a Luxembergen MEP who's in the EPP - which is worse as she used to be a Socialist and then turned to the dark side!!! An Apostate of the highest order to be scorned at every turn!!!
That said he was a nice bloke.
As you can imagine last week was abit of a drunken mess but most of the stuff that I did has to do with why I'm happy so sod off. Am just writing to let you know I'm still alive and out of my general funk! I will however have some shite to write later this week as I'm in London tomorrow for an Interview and am getting a trip round Downing Street with a friend who works there, not bad hey? And if we're all lucky maybe I'll be involve in some sort of exciting Terrorist activity, maybe they'll be hostages, and I'll be trapped in the same building, and then kick ass without my shoes on, and THEN HANS WILL PAY AN- Ahem - sorry Die Hard overload, the medication usually works but I missed my John Mclane addicts support group this week, apologies.
Anyway, then next week I'm in Stras then a week kicking back then I'm back in the UK. That's right your peace will be at an end, the Home Office has failed in their bid to make Belgium keep me, coming to a Pub near you soon!
You're screwed.
C'est la vie - gotta love those ups and downs hey?
As it should be.
A few hours ago it was snowing.
Which I'm pretty sure - correct me if I'm wrong - ISN'T SUPPOSSED TO SODDING HAPPEN IN SODDING JULY!!! So there, Yorkshire and Wimbledon are not the only places to have crap weather in July, although no one has died yet here - unlike Wimbledon - poor Henman.
No matter, the straight was completed with the crazy thunder storms in between. Besides it doesn't matter, at the moment I'd quite happily sing in the snow as well as the rain, but I'm not going into why I'm so happy because I'm not so there! You'll get what you're given and if that snotty-nosed little bastard Oliver asks for some more he'll get a damned good thrashing!
Last week Chris and his friend Luke visited, which in turn led to meeting their friend Henri - who happens to work for a Luxembergen MEP who's in the EPP - which is worse as she used to be a Socialist and then turned to the dark side!!! An Apostate of the highest order to be scorned at every turn!!!
That said he was a nice bloke.
As you can imagine last week was abit of a drunken mess but most of the stuff that I did has to do with why I'm happy so sod off. Am just writing to let you know I'm still alive and out of my general funk! I will however have some shite to write later this week as I'm in London tomorrow for an Interview and am getting a trip round Downing Street with a friend who works there, not bad hey? And if we're all lucky maybe I'll be involve in some sort of exciting Terrorist activity, maybe they'll be hostages, and I'll be trapped in the same building, and then kick ass without my shoes on, and THEN HANS WILL PAY AN- Ahem - sorry Die Hard overload, the medication usually works but I missed my John Mclane addicts support group this week, apologies.
Anyway, then next week I'm in Stras then a week kicking back then I'm back in the UK. That's right your peace will be at an end, the Home Office has failed in their bid to make Belgium keep me, coming to a Pub near you soon!
You're screwed.
C'est la vie - gotta love those ups and downs hey?
Wednesday 20 June 2007
Lobbyists... Why do do they bother?
Incompetance. Nobody likes it, nobody wants it and everyone is afraid of commiting it.
Accept it seems one group of special people - Lobbyists.
Over the last few months I have had to reassess my opinion of these people. Before coming here I thought that lobbyists actually held some influence, could prove vital allies to industry or pressure groups. Actually the truth is far from it. A Troupe of morbidly-obese travelling acrobats could muster more political acumen and influence than most lobbyists I've met out here.
The majority of lobbying is done by post or email which uniformly goes in the recycle bin (computer or actual). I say uniformly, thats harsh. If it is exceptionally bad then me and Chris might have a chuckle first, or even say 'why do they bother?' as we bin it.
The remainder of the lobbying is done through meetings, or as I should say, the attempt to get meetings. Here the lobbyist deploys his full arsenal of skills and weaponry, namely the Dear Sir/Madam Email or should things get really desperate the telephone call!!! In the rare instances that such cunning tactics and machinations succeed then the lobbyist guides his client to the meeting with skill - by getting the office to come and meet them - and then sits in on the meeting usually to great effect, if the effect desired is some sort of dumb mute sat down in the corner. I've actually witnessed this go on!!!
The vast majority of lobbying goes on in this fashion, and it gets worse! Most of the time they will only contact you a couple of days before the vote they want to influence, as if your MEP has just been sat by the phone waiting for them to tell him how to vote! Excusable maybe in a rank amatuer who doesn't know how Parliament works but they wouldn't of got the sodding job in the first place if they didn't have a clue! So they know that weeks (if not longer) before a vote takes place MEPs will discuss reports in their Delegations, their Groups and will have already thrashed out positions and compromises with other Groups - the very lifeblood of politics! They know all of this BUT THEY STILL PHONE UP TWO DAYS BEFORE!!! Only two conclusions can be taken from this, either they have a phobia of MEPs or they are incompetant.
The scary thing is though that some of them appear to have become rather wealthy off the back of all this. Certainly you never see a Lobbyist go hungry. So this leads me to another couple of conclusions. The first is that quite clearly Incompetance in Lobbyists is like Bungs in Football: everyone turns a blind eye as long as its going okay; who cares if the work experience girl could do as good a job she's probably more useful making the tea anyway! The second though is more scary, that maybe lobbyists actually succeed with these tactics with alot of MEPs... Can anyone really be so mentally feeble and ideologically shallow? Oh sorry I forgot, the EPP and the Tories are the biggest group here, that'll explain it!
Accept it seems one group of special people - Lobbyists.
Over the last few months I have had to reassess my opinion of these people. Before coming here I thought that lobbyists actually held some influence, could prove vital allies to industry or pressure groups. Actually the truth is far from it. A Troupe of morbidly-obese travelling acrobats could muster more political acumen and influence than most lobbyists I've met out here.
The majority of lobbying is done by post or email which uniformly goes in the recycle bin (computer or actual). I say uniformly, thats harsh. If it is exceptionally bad then me and Chris might have a chuckle first, or even say 'why do they bother?' as we bin it.
The remainder of the lobbying is done through meetings, or as I should say, the attempt to get meetings. Here the lobbyist deploys his full arsenal of skills and weaponry, namely the Dear Sir/Madam Email or should things get really desperate the telephone call!!! In the rare instances that such cunning tactics and machinations succeed then the lobbyist guides his client to the meeting with skill - by getting the office to come and meet them - and then sits in on the meeting usually to great effect, if the effect desired is some sort of dumb mute sat down in the corner. I've actually witnessed this go on!!!
The vast majority of lobbying goes on in this fashion, and it gets worse! Most of the time they will only contact you a couple of days before the vote they want to influence, as if your MEP has just been sat by the phone waiting for them to tell him how to vote! Excusable maybe in a rank amatuer who doesn't know how Parliament works but they wouldn't of got the sodding job in the first place if they didn't have a clue! So they know that weeks (if not longer) before a vote takes place MEPs will discuss reports in their Delegations, their Groups and will have already thrashed out positions and compromises with other Groups - the very lifeblood of politics! They know all of this BUT THEY STILL PHONE UP TWO DAYS BEFORE!!! Only two conclusions can be taken from this, either they have a phobia of MEPs or they are incompetant.
The scary thing is though that some of them appear to have become rather wealthy off the back of all this. Certainly you never see a Lobbyist go hungry. So this leads me to another couple of conclusions. The first is that quite clearly Incompetance in Lobbyists is like Bungs in Football: everyone turns a blind eye as long as its going okay; who cares if the work experience girl could do as good a job she's probably more useful making the tea anyway! The second though is more scary, that maybe lobbyists actually succeed with these tactics with alot of MEPs... Can anyone really be so mentally feeble and ideologically shallow? Oh sorry I forgot, the EPP and the Tories are the biggest group here, that'll explain it!
Sunday 17 June 2007
If you didn't laugh...
Well then, as promised the news of this last week is here. To be quite honest a shit week that I would quite happily forget on a personal front. But hey, thats not what we're here for and it wouldn't be wallowing self-pity if it was shared now would it? So that means like a druggie enjoying the contents of the syringe in his arm who doesn't know where his next hit will come from I'm going to ignore reality and focus on the interesting, enjoyable and the amusing! If you want reading to depress you try the latest bestselling biography about child-abuse or some other shite that shouldn't be sold as entertainment.
Anyways, as I was travelling back from the UK on Monday my week started on Tuesday, slightly hungover from Monday night, feeling frustrated and with a mountain of work to flatten! I'd only been out of the office Friday and Monday but it appeared the evil gods of Postal services and Emails had entered an unholy alliance against me and lo, my desk was covered in unopened mail, my inbox was full of spam, annoying info and invites and my filing system was sundered...
By the time Alan Johnson arrived I had just about got on top of it all allowing me to go along and see what the latest Deputy Leader candidate would try and tempt us with. 'Get your Council Houses here! Get 'em whilst there hot!'
After that I thought I'd stay around for the main EPLP meeting but was actually falling asleep by 8ish due to the complete lack of sleep all weekend so went home had something to eat and fell into a coma!
Wednesday was a busy day which properly kicked off with a Trade Union meeting Stephen Hughes was hosting. It was about a scandal in which 43 factories are shutting, 3,000 people including 2,300 disabled people are losing there jobs due to management incompetance and prejudice. The company is called Remploy, who cater specifically for Disabled people so this situation is quite appalling. Anyway that then consumed most of my Wednesday. It was this day that I also got clobbered to help out at the Stagiare Party on Friday night.
It was being organized by the EP Stagiare Association, a nascent Trade Union (not that we can call it that, we want tories to join afterall!) for trainees which campaigns for better rights and parties as well! Anyway the party was at the Claridge club but to cut back on costs the Cloakroom and Ticket desk were being manned by volunteers and as I always attend meetings and stuff I was finally cornered and grudgingly agreed to help. To all fellow doormats out there heed my lesson: If capitulation is unavoidable get it over with early so you can bag the least worst job! As I had ducked and dived for a week and a half trying to avoid volunteering the result was I was stuck with 1 till 3 in the pissing morning on the cloakroom. Fan-fucking-tastic!
Thursday aftenoons Assitants meeting took a great deal of pleasure in my downfall I can assure you!
After rolling up at the party with some friends at about 11 and contenting myself with polite conversation and a few bottles of Stella I took my sentance like a man; a petulent man railing against the world and damning every god under the sun but a man none the less.
Actually it was quite fun and having so many good looking girls smiling at you gets addictive, even if they were just after their coats. All in all when I left at five in the morning I should of been quite content. I was not however, but thats another story, suffice to say 'fucking bitches'
I don't know, if you didn't laugh...
Anyways, as I was travelling back from the UK on Monday my week started on Tuesday, slightly hungover from Monday night, feeling frustrated and with a mountain of work to flatten! I'd only been out of the office Friday and Monday but it appeared the evil gods of Postal services and Emails had entered an unholy alliance against me and lo, my desk was covered in unopened mail, my inbox was full of spam, annoying info and invites and my filing system was sundered...
By the time Alan Johnson arrived I had just about got on top of it all allowing me to go along and see what the latest Deputy Leader candidate would try and tempt us with. 'Get your Council Houses here! Get 'em whilst there hot!'
After that I thought I'd stay around for the main EPLP meeting but was actually falling asleep by 8ish due to the complete lack of sleep all weekend so went home had something to eat and fell into a coma!
Wednesday was a busy day which properly kicked off with a Trade Union meeting Stephen Hughes was hosting. It was about a scandal in which 43 factories are shutting, 3,000 people including 2,300 disabled people are losing there jobs due to management incompetance and prejudice. The company is called Remploy, who cater specifically for Disabled people so this situation is quite appalling. Anyway that then consumed most of my Wednesday. It was this day that I also got clobbered to help out at the Stagiare Party on Friday night.
It was being organized by the EP Stagiare Association, a nascent Trade Union (not that we can call it that, we want tories to join afterall!) for trainees which campaigns for better rights and parties as well! Anyway the party was at the Claridge club but to cut back on costs the Cloakroom and Ticket desk were being manned by volunteers and as I always attend meetings and stuff I was finally cornered and grudgingly agreed to help. To all fellow doormats out there heed my lesson: If capitulation is unavoidable get it over with early so you can bag the least worst job! As I had ducked and dived for a week and a half trying to avoid volunteering the result was I was stuck with 1 till 3 in the pissing morning on the cloakroom. Fan-fucking-tastic!
Thursday aftenoons Assitants meeting took a great deal of pleasure in my downfall I can assure you!
After rolling up at the party with some friends at about 11 and contenting myself with polite conversation and a few bottles of Stella I took my sentance like a man; a petulent man railing against the world and damning every god under the sun but a man none the less.
Actually it was quite fun and having so many good looking girls smiling at you gets addictive, even if they were just after their coats. All in all when I left at five in the morning I should of been quite content. I was not however, but thats another story, suffice to say 'fucking bitches'
I don't know, if you didn't laugh...
Sorry, but its got to be Alan...
That is actually quite painful for me to say as well.
From the start I had backed Alan as my favoured candidate but during the campaign he had been so lacklustre I had wandered. Somewhat like a war refugee, unable to go home but finding nowhere which welcomed or suited me.
He was a strong candidate for valid reasons but was also a weak one for similar reasons. He was English, woriking class, Trade Unionist who had a competant ministerial background and was good on TV and on the doorstep. However the problem was due to his strengths he would definitely get a big ministerial job and he knew it; he hadn't appeared too interested in sorting the mess that is the Party out and had no proper ideas about it; his ministerial background had been abit too much 'talk left, act right' about it too. But the others were worse. Peter Hain had impressed me during the campaign with what he said but he used to be a Liberal so he was gone; Harriet Harmen said all the right things but it was so false it was laughable, and all her staff hate her guts - not a good indicator; John Cruddas had some great ideas about the Party but presented them in a truly appaling way - like a rapper who had swallowed an economics textbook; Hilary Benn was just doing it to position himself for 'after Gordon' and was far too vacuous and polished; Hazel Blears had performed well but is politically evil.
So then where does that leave us? I approached the EPLP meeting with Alan Johnson on Tuesday night like a cuckolded old man approaches his sexy young wife: I knew I was being cheated and would continue to be but damn it, give me a reason to stay and I will! In this state I listened with detachment, sometimes amusement and growing apprehension.
It was just like the rest of the campaign, he said alot of good things (Councils should be allowed to build Council houses - thats a novel one hey?) he spoke alot of common sense and he cracked a few decent jokes, but he never quite sold it to me. He was good but great, I was impressed in a detached, professional sort of way but not impressed in a Moses to the masses kinda way. I walked out in exactly the same way as I walked in, edgy, dispassionate and unconvinced.
So there you go. I've now seen four of the six candidates speak to the EPLP and ge grilled by them too. The best performance was Blears but as I said, shes evil. After that Benn pissed me off, Cruddas drove me nuts and Johnson missed bis chance. Harman cancelled and Hain never even bothered that much. Maybe I should abstain? Or maybe a spoilt ballot? But thats not my way, not voting is not an option and as at every count I've ever witnessed I've always thought 'tosser' everytime I see a spoilt ballot thats not going to happen either.
So I guess its Johnson.
Oh well, I guess this is the problem when the election is solely between the good guys, I mean its like asking someone which one of the Three Musketeers should avoid getting skewered by Cardianal Richelieu's henchmen - how do you pick? You start having to pick holes in the heros. Porthos is a lovable rogue but does that mean he deserves the chop cause he's a drunken letch? Who could make that choice?!?!? Picking holes in them just leaves you feeling dispirited with their world and depressed about the result. And so it is with this election for me. Blears might be evil but I prefer it when I can see the Salford-girl-done-good batter a tory on Question Time; Benn might be vacuous but I prefer it when I see him enthusing about helping the world's poor and Porthos might be a drunken letch with more sti's than a Bangkok ladyboy but damn it hes good fun and he's handy with both of his swords!
Besides to complete my Three Musketeers analogy, everything is better when its 'One for all, and all for one'!
From the start I had backed Alan as my favoured candidate but during the campaign he had been so lacklustre I had wandered. Somewhat like a war refugee, unable to go home but finding nowhere which welcomed or suited me.
He was a strong candidate for valid reasons but was also a weak one for similar reasons. He was English, woriking class, Trade Unionist who had a competant ministerial background and was good on TV and on the doorstep. However the problem was due to his strengths he would definitely get a big ministerial job and he knew it; he hadn't appeared too interested in sorting the mess that is the Party out and had no proper ideas about it; his ministerial background had been abit too much 'talk left, act right' about it too. But the others were worse. Peter Hain had impressed me during the campaign with what he said but he used to be a Liberal so he was gone; Harriet Harmen said all the right things but it was so false it was laughable, and all her staff hate her guts - not a good indicator; John Cruddas had some great ideas about the Party but presented them in a truly appaling way - like a rapper who had swallowed an economics textbook; Hilary Benn was just doing it to position himself for 'after Gordon' and was far too vacuous and polished; Hazel Blears had performed well but is politically evil.
So then where does that leave us? I approached the EPLP meeting with Alan Johnson on Tuesday night like a cuckolded old man approaches his sexy young wife: I knew I was being cheated and would continue to be but damn it, give me a reason to stay and I will! In this state I listened with detachment, sometimes amusement and growing apprehension.
It was just like the rest of the campaign, he said alot of good things (Councils should be allowed to build Council houses - thats a novel one hey?) he spoke alot of common sense and he cracked a few decent jokes, but he never quite sold it to me. He was good but great, I was impressed in a detached, professional sort of way but not impressed in a Moses to the masses kinda way. I walked out in exactly the same way as I walked in, edgy, dispassionate and unconvinced.
So there you go. I've now seen four of the six candidates speak to the EPLP and ge grilled by them too. The best performance was Blears but as I said, shes evil. After that Benn pissed me off, Cruddas drove me nuts and Johnson missed bis chance. Harman cancelled and Hain never even bothered that much. Maybe I should abstain? Or maybe a spoilt ballot? But thats not my way, not voting is not an option and as at every count I've ever witnessed I've always thought 'tosser' everytime I see a spoilt ballot thats not going to happen either.
So I guess its Johnson.
Oh well, I guess this is the problem when the election is solely between the good guys, I mean its like asking someone which one of the Three Musketeers should avoid getting skewered by Cardianal Richelieu's henchmen - how do you pick? You start having to pick holes in the heros. Porthos is a lovable rogue but does that mean he deserves the chop cause he's a drunken letch? Who could make that choice?!?!? Picking holes in them just leaves you feeling dispirited with their world and depressed about the result. And so it is with this election for me. Blears might be evil but I prefer it when I can see the Salford-girl-done-good batter a tory on Question Time; Benn might be vacuous but I prefer it when I see him enthusing about helping the world's poor and Porthos might be a drunken letch with more sti's than a Bangkok ladyboy but damn it hes good fun and he's handy with both of his swords!
Besides to complete my Three Musketeers analogy, everything is better when its 'One for all, and all for one'!
Thursday 14 June 2007
Long time no speak...
So then I'm back, I bet you all thought I'd failed on Palestine and been thrown into the asylum hey? Unlucky! I'm still here I got the report in (although now its probably worthless being two weeks old) and they released me back into the community!!!
So whats been going on I hear you all clamour? Well a couple of busy weeks I can tell you that for nothing!
Having had two weeks on my own, Mini-Plenary week arrived in the same fashion as a bunch of teenagers playing with fireworks - annoying, predictable and dangerous to anybody in a 100 yard radius. Only this time it had the added spice of Gary's Constituency Office Manager and Regional Political Advisor coming over for a strategy week, something like going over to those teenagers and saying 'Hey kids here's a Catherine Wheel, go nuts!' Don't get me wrong, they are nice people and some of the things we discussed were important BUT they did get in the way, steal my desk to check their bloody email several times aday (okay thats what I do but hey, its my desk!) and generally cramp our style. On the Wednesday me and Chris were having to juggle about five meetings at the same time as well as keep an eye on voting lists and debates and having to interupt this to show someone how to open their email account or use the sodding fax machine was - to be honest - ever so slightly ANNOYING!!!!!
That said their arrival did mean that Gary was in a jovial mood and he took us all out for a Mexican meal on the monday near Porte De Namur Metro stop. As I was showing the Constituency people where their Hotel was I was also tasked with taking them to the Restaurant. Unfortunately I had heard near Porte de Hal not Porte de Namur, so we managed to be abit - ahem - late... Ever meet a sherpa called George don't trust him, in fact smile politely and hire the next sherpa you find to be your guide, preferably one without a hearing problem...
The next night we also got invited round to the EPLP Secretary General's house for a meal. Every time the London office or Constituency bods come over this happens but it was the first time I'd been invited. Now as I was currently applying for a EPLP job I couldn't help but take this as a good sign - and several other people seemed to as well. Funny then it was - I'm sure you can imagine - when on Thursday afternoon when everything was finally calming down, the Constituency office had gone, Gary had gone, in fact I was in the office on my own messing around on Facebook when Giampi - the Secretary General - came in. Shortlisting had been going on that day and he felt the need to tell me in person that I had not been... He said that they had had over fifty applicants and some had decades of experience and were councillors amongst other things... He tried to say that he thought that I had a strong CV and stuff but I cut him off.
'Its fine. I always knew I didn't really have enough experience.' I said 'I wouldn't of applied had Gary not TOLD me to. Heh. At least I should get a good reference hey?' I said, finally allowing a hint of disgust enter my tone.
'Oh absolutely, you'll get an excellent reference off Gary' he said in his soft generic Mediteranean accent. 'And if you need any help from us just ask...' he finished trailing off.
'Thanks, I'll see you later then' I responded, wanting to say 'GET OUT OF MY DAMN OFFICE SO I CAN START SWEARING MY HEAD OFF!!!'
He seemed to pick up the hint and left. And I started swearing my head off. Oh well plenty more jobs to apply for I guess.
That weekend I spent in Lancaster, forgeting my job failure, spending my rent money on booze, playing that fun game 'pull a Tory', having a depressingly small bonfire, and catching up with friends.
This week has been Group week, Alan Johnson has visited to tell us why he should be Deputy Leader, and plenty of other shit has gone on but I will update you on that in another post later on! Oh and to certain people - don't worry I've paid my rent.
So whats been going on I hear you all clamour? Well a couple of busy weeks I can tell you that for nothing!
Having had two weeks on my own, Mini-Plenary week arrived in the same fashion as a bunch of teenagers playing with fireworks - annoying, predictable and dangerous to anybody in a 100 yard radius. Only this time it had the added spice of Gary's Constituency Office Manager and Regional Political Advisor coming over for a strategy week, something like going over to those teenagers and saying 'Hey kids here's a Catherine Wheel, go nuts!' Don't get me wrong, they are nice people and some of the things we discussed were important BUT they did get in the way, steal my desk to check their bloody email several times aday (okay thats what I do but hey, its my desk!) and generally cramp our style. On the Wednesday me and Chris were having to juggle about five meetings at the same time as well as keep an eye on voting lists and debates and having to interupt this to show someone how to open their email account or use the sodding fax machine was - to be honest - ever so slightly ANNOYING!!!!!
That said their arrival did mean that Gary was in a jovial mood and he took us all out for a Mexican meal on the monday near Porte De Namur Metro stop. As I was showing the Constituency people where their Hotel was I was also tasked with taking them to the Restaurant. Unfortunately I had heard near Porte de Hal not Porte de Namur, so we managed to be abit - ahem - late... Ever meet a sherpa called George don't trust him, in fact smile politely and hire the next sherpa you find to be your guide, preferably one without a hearing problem...
The next night we also got invited round to the EPLP Secretary General's house for a meal. Every time the London office or Constituency bods come over this happens but it was the first time I'd been invited. Now as I was currently applying for a EPLP job I couldn't help but take this as a good sign - and several other people seemed to as well. Funny then it was - I'm sure you can imagine - when on Thursday afternoon when everything was finally calming down, the Constituency office had gone, Gary had gone, in fact I was in the office on my own messing around on Facebook when Giampi - the Secretary General - came in. Shortlisting had been going on that day and he felt the need to tell me in person that I had not been... He said that they had had over fifty applicants and some had decades of experience and were councillors amongst other things... He tried to say that he thought that I had a strong CV and stuff but I cut him off.
'Its fine. I always knew I didn't really have enough experience.' I said 'I wouldn't of applied had Gary not TOLD me to. Heh. At least I should get a good reference hey?' I said, finally allowing a hint of disgust enter my tone.
'Oh absolutely, you'll get an excellent reference off Gary' he said in his soft generic Mediteranean accent. 'And if you need any help from us just ask...' he finished trailing off.
'Thanks, I'll see you later then' I responded, wanting to say 'GET OUT OF MY DAMN OFFICE SO I CAN START SWEARING MY HEAD OFF!!!'
He seemed to pick up the hint and left. And I started swearing my head off. Oh well plenty more jobs to apply for I guess.
That weekend I spent in Lancaster, forgeting my job failure, spending my rent money on booze, playing that fun game 'pull a Tory', having a depressingly small bonfire, and catching up with friends.
This week has been Group week, Alan Johnson has visited to tell us why he should be Deputy Leader, and plenty of other shit has gone on but I will update you on that in another post later on! Oh and to certain people - don't worry I've paid my rent.
Tuesday 29 May 2007
I'm sorry but this job is nuts...
I'm afraid I have to admit it. I am in denial no longer. My job is insane and I am slowly losing the plot (I already hear all the 'what do you mean slowly' gags so don't bother!).
Over the last few weeks, I have gone from researching a Written question to the Commission on the use of Filament lightbulbs in heavy machinery to the abuse of human rights of several hundred thousand Croation-Serb refugees to finding out if our long-line fishing fleets hurt sea birds and now da-da-da-darrr - writting a short briefing on the situation in Israel/Palestine for the boss before a meeting with a Peace group...
WHAT THE HELL!?!?!??!
How do I write a SHORT bloody briefing on bloody ISRAEL/PALESTINE!!!! Especially when I still have all the REALLY interesting knowledge about the use of filament lightbulbs in the health and safety apparatus involved with that handy LATHE we all have in the shed!!!
My grasp on reality and normality was tenuous at best when I came over here but now, living in a schizophrenic country, doing work like this and (as anybody who works for The Party will tell you) having my blood slowly replaced pint by pint by a heady mix of ACP-friendly caffine and medicinal alcohol I fear the end is nigh...
Either I achieve something that has been beyond every Academic, Journalist, Politician and Conspiracy-theorist alive or I accept one of those lovely coats with the straps on the sleeves.
Either a short Shalom on the West Bank or a Long Goodbye in the Asylum...
Hmm how do you say 'I'm screwed' in Hebrew...
Over the last few weeks, I have gone from researching a Written question to the Commission on the use of Filament lightbulbs in heavy machinery to the abuse of human rights of several hundred thousand Croation-Serb refugees to finding out if our long-line fishing fleets hurt sea birds and now da-da-da-darrr - writting a short briefing on the situation in Israel/Palestine for the boss before a meeting with a Peace group...
WHAT THE HELL!?!?!??!
How do I write a SHORT bloody briefing on bloody ISRAEL/PALESTINE!!!! Especially when I still have all the REALLY interesting knowledge about the use of filament lightbulbs in the health and safety apparatus involved with that handy LATHE we all have in the shed!!!
My grasp on reality and normality was tenuous at best when I came over here but now, living in a schizophrenic country, doing work like this and (as anybody who works for The Party will tell you) having my blood slowly replaced pint by pint by a heady mix of ACP-friendly caffine and medicinal alcohol I fear the end is nigh...
Either I achieve something that has been beyond every Academic, Journalist, Politician and Conspiracy-theorist alive or I accept one of those lovely coats with the straps on the sleeves.
Either a short Shalom on the West Bank or a Long Goodbye in the Asylum...
Hmm how do you say 'I'm screwed' in Hebrew...
Wednesday 23 May 2007
Vote Labour because we're nice!
This will certainly find any tories reading this blog but as its abit slow at the mo and this has been rolling around in my head for - well - ever why not!
This issue came into sharper focus for me a couple of weeks ago. Some student on an Erasmus year studying in Europe had begged a couple of weeks work experience in our office and so I had to give him the obligatory tour of the Parliament, 'you will get lost here... here you'll definitely get lost... if you ever end up here you're lost' that type of thing. The tour was almost over as we got back to the 13th floor where the office is and I was running out of things to say to this person. Anyway I noticed the pictures on the wall and hit on a weak anecdote.
To contradict the above I have only got lost in the Parliament once. The MEP offices are housed in two separate blocks of the Parliament on opposite sides of the building, one block for the right (ie Tories etc) one for the left. Anyway I once came out of a meeting on the 'dark side' of the building and without thinking went to the nearest lifts and up to the 13th floor forgetting which side I was on. The reason I realised my mistake was because the walls of the 13th floor weren't covered in photos. The place was grey, miserable and mean looking. I'm sure our 13th floor would be the same was it not for all the photos: of MEPs, Assistants, meetings, parties, everything. It makes it really cheerful, bright, a place that is welcoming instead of sucking the life out of you. Anyway I was relaying this to the wide-eyed student next to me and I carried on ramming home my point without really thinking.
'Its little things like this that prove you made the right decision joining us and not them' I said.
At which point a man going through a Strasbourg case (every office has one for the monthly exodus) in the corridor laughed, I looked at him and realised it was Stephen Hughes, MEP for the North East. Smiling he said:
'Yeah Vote Labour because we're nice people!'
And we all laughed.
But then I got thinking abit (I guess it was a slow day) and I thought actually that is by far the best political message ever! Vote for us because we are NICE!
And its bloody true! I've met plenty of people in the Labour Party, many have annoyed me, angered me, pissed me off but I know for a fact that in their own special way they will go out of their way to help others, to make things better for those around them: they are nice. And you can extrapolate this idea out further. For the same reason we put photos on our walls, to cheer others up, make things abit better, Socialist MEPs treat their Interns better, they campaign for equality and an ending of poverty, they voted last month to denounce Homophobeia in Poland and demand the Commission look at the situation, not because it affects them but because they want to help.
And in the same way we can go beyond the lack of photos on the walls in the tory corridor. They didn't do that because it would take effort on their part and hey my office is alright so who cares? Screw the rest of them. The right protects their class interests, they pull the ladder up behind them, they are alright so screw everybody else. That's why one Tory MEP only ever hires blonde big-bosomed Interns and harrasses them, thats why they side with their mates in big business, thats why it was Tories who brought in Section 28 and who even today abstained on the Homophobeia vote in the Parliament last month. It's no wonder their most successful PM declared 'there's no such thing as society' because they don't think or care about it, its all about me, I, myself and fuck the rest of you.
So there you have it, Mr Brown if your reading here is your Election message for 2009, 'Vote Labour because we're nice'
This issue came into sharper focus for me a couple of weeks ago. Some student on an Erasmus year studying in Europe had begged a couple of weeks work experience in our office and so I had to give him the obligatory tour of the Parliament, 'you will get lost here... here you'll definitely get lost... if you ever end up here you're lost' that type of thing. The tour was almost over as we got back to the 13th floor where the office is and I was running out of things to say to this person. Anyway I noticed the pictures on the wall and hit on a weak anecdote.
To contradict the above I have only got lost in the Parliament once. The MEP offices are housed in two separate blocks of the Parliament on opposite sides of the building, one block for the right (ie Tories etc) one for the left. Anyway I once came out of a meeting on the 'dark side' of the building and without thinking went to the nearest lifts and up to the 13th floor forgetting which side I was on. The reason I realised my mistake was because the walls of the 13th floor weren't covered in photos. The place was grey, miserable and mean looking. I'm sure our 13th floor would be the same was it not for all the photos: of MEPs, Assistants, meetings, parties, everything. It makes it really cheerful, bright, a place that is welcoming instead of sucking the life out of you. Anyway I was relaying this to the wide-eyed student next to me and I carried on ramming home my point without really thinking.
'Its little things like this that prove you made the right decision joining us and not them' I said.
At which point a man going through a Strasbourg case (every office has one for the monthly exodus) in the corridor laughed, I looked at him and realised it was Stephen Hughes, MEP for the North East. Smiling he said:
'Yeah Vote Labour because we're nice people!'
And we all laughed.
But then I got thinking abit (I guess it was a slow day) and I thought actually that is by far the best political message ever! Vote for us because we are NICE!
And its bloody true! I've met plenty of people in the Labour Party, many have annoyed me, angered me, pissed me off but I know for a fact that in their own special way they will go out of their way to help others, to make things better for those around them: they are nice. And you can extrapolate this idea out further. For the same reason we put photos on our walls, to cheer others up, make things abit better, Socialist MEPs treat their Interns better, they campaign for equality and an ending of poverty, they voted last month to denounce Homophobeia in Poland and demand the Commission look at the situation, not because it affects them but because they want to help.
And in the same way we can go beyond the lack of photos on the walls in the tory corridor. They didn't do that because it would take effort on their part and hey my office is alright so who cares? Screw the rest of them. The right protects their class interests, they pull the ladder up behind them, they are alright so screw everybody else. That's why one Tory MEP only ever hires blonde big-bosomed Interns and harrasses them, thats why they side with their mates in big business, thats why it was Tories who brought in Section 28 and who even today abstained on the Homophobeia vote in the Parliament last month. It's no wonder their most successful PM declared 'there's no such thing as society' because they don't think or care about it, its all about me, I, myself and fuck the rest of you.
So there you have it, Mr Brown if your reading here is your Election message for 2009, 'Vote Labour because we're nice'
Wednesday 9 May 2007
Some photos...
To stop complaints I've dug out some photos, enjoy...
Random shots from various points...
Some from my random birthday bash in the office...
Some from my random birthday bash in the office...
And some of the Parliament!
Tuesday 8 May 2007
Bugering off to Brugge...
Last Friday saw a leaving-do on the 13th floor of the European Parliament. This is however something you get used to pretty quick around here. What with the staff turnover being so high and the lack of career progression beyond the level of Assistant, the office leaving-do is a common occurance. However what is not a common occurance is the consumption of 5 bottles of wine by two Assistants and a Stagiare to mark the occassion...
Saturday morning arrives with the usual cacophony of church bells from down the road. However unlike usual once the bells stop the ringing in my head doesn't... vague recollections... of capturing a small EPP (tory) TeddyBear and emailing certain tory assistants that unless our demands were met it would meet its end... in a bar feeding popcorn to a girl who was sat on my knee...
Hmmm
After painfully opening my eyes I could see neither the Bear or the girl were in my room, think I'll put that one down as a score draw then. I also remembered that I had left my bag with my train tickets to Brugge in the office. 'Damn' I would of said had my tongue not been made of a dangerously unusable mixture of sandpaper and spam.
I would of said this because Staurday was 'Europe Day' and so there was an open day for the public at the Parliament. Walking over to the Parliament past the Commission it was quite surreal seeing the different events and sideshows that were on to entertain the visitors. A Bouncy Castle was something I never expected to see in the grounds of Berlaymont I can assure you! Still it was quite interesting to see how much the EU apparently wants to open up to citizens and get them on board. Pity they can't put a bouncy castle outside Whitehall, imagine the civil servants horror!
After successfully getting my tickets and catching my train I arrived in Brugge at about half 4 and went and met Andrew and Sharon in the Markt (main square in the city). For those who don't know Andrew and Sharon are two Aussies who have been living in Oulton for the past 12 months and have been touring Europe for the last month or so before going back to Brisbane. Their last stop before Heathrow was Brugge and so I said I'd meet up with them.
Brugge is always described as an example of a 'medieval city' and in many ways I guess it is, but I think this is somewhat overdone especially if your from the UK, places like Edinburgh and York are just as 'historic'. Effectively the main medieval bits are two squares and some bits which can only be seen from the canals. Other than that what it means by a 'historic city' is the streets are narrow and cobbled and everything is double the price! Having said that we did see some intereting things and some stunning architecture, mostly via my prefered method of touristing: wandering around barely paying attention and viewing the world from terrace bars!
That said, and with so much catching up to do it was unavoidable that we sampled the Belgian beers to excess Saturday night and only once failed to avoid a tourist-trap expensive bar, we also sampled some fine Belgian quisine. That's right! We found a gourmet Kebab Restaurant!!!
Bar a pissed up pair of Ruger-buggers invading the room at about five in the morning the hostel was fine and so I was in fine fettle when I made my way back out on Sunday. At this juncture I should point out that two things made me distinctly uncomfortable on my trip to Brugge. The first was the fact that Brugge is in Flanders, where of course they speak Dutch and despise French. However bad my french is this was the first time in my life really that I was without a single word of the local language, little things like 'Hello', 'Thanks', 'Excuse me', 'Sorry' and 'Please', that make you at least seem human and sound polite. Being restricted to hoping people speak English (which in Flanders is basically everyone anyway!) or looking like a simpleton was a bit disconcerting...
The other point was when we decided to go look round an old church. For some reason I always go looking round churches and cathedrals. When people who know I'm a 'devout atheist' ask why I always say 'got to know the enemy' but thinking about it the truth of it is that being devoid of faith and unable to attain it I'm always interested to see what faith does for people. I have visited the Cathedral in Brussels, which Paulina says is boring. A building that took 300 years to complete and saw the deaths of hundreds I find staggering, especially all in the name of faith! Anyway this chapel we visited is home to a very special relic, a vial of the blood of Christ (in all probability a vial of goat/dead beggar/dog blood or not even blood but what the hey!) and when we visited it just so happened to be the day of the year when it is 'venerated' or on show to raise money for the church! So as there is no que we decide to go over and see it, as I walk up to the altar where it is there is a sign saying 'Venerating the relic is an act confirming your devotion to the son of God, please give accordingly.' I know its a cheap way of guilt-tripping the faithful into giving bucketfuls of cash but it did make ME feel a little guilty, and faintly awkward, all the more when he woman taking the donations gave me a beautific smile and a blessing as I tossed a Euro in the box. In the end it was a fancy ornate tube with some very desicated material inside, it may of been blood (if so it had separated into white and red cells before drying out) it may of been anything. I still felt uneasy.
Having spent the best part of two days in each others pockets it was time to say goodbye. We all promised to keep in touch, maybe visit, I gave them a PSE goody bag and that was that, well except for the fact that a marathon cut the city in half for an hour, me on one side, the train station on the other... Brugger!
Saturday morning arrives with the usual cacophony of church bells from down the road. However unlike usual once the bells stop the ringing in my head doesn't... vague recollections... of capturing a small EPP (tory) TeddyBear and emailing certain tory assistants that unless our demands were met it would meet its end... in a bar feeding popcorn to a girl who was sat on my knee...
Hmmm
After painfully opening my eyes I could see neither the Bear or the girl were in my room, think I'll put that one down as a score draw then. I also remembered that I had left my bag with my train tickets to Brugge in the office. 'Damn' I would of said had my tongue not been made of a dangerously unusable mixture of sandpaper and spam.
I would of said this because Staurday was 'Europe Day' and so there was an open day for the public at the Parliament. Walking over to the Parliament past the Commission it was quite surreal seeing the different events and sideshows that were on to entertain the visitors. A Bouncy Castle was something I never expected to see in the grounds of Berlaymont I can assure you! Still it was quite interesting to see how much the EU apparently wants to open up to citizens and get them on board. Pity they can't put a bouncy castle outside Whitehall, imagine the civil servants horror!
After successfully getting my tickets and catching my train I arrived in Brugge at about half 4 and went and met Andrew and Sharon in the Markt (main square in the city). For those who don't know Andrew and Sharon are two Aussies who have been living in Oulton for the past 12 months and have been touring Europe for the last month or so before going back to Brisbane. Their last stop before Heathrow was Brugge and so I said I'd meet up with them.
Brugge is always described as an example of a 'medieval city' and in many ways I guess it is, but I think this is somewhat overdone especially if your from the UK, places like Edinburgh and York are just as 'historic'. Effectively the main medieval bits are two squares and some bits which can only be seen from the canals. Other than that what it means by a 'historic city' is the streets are narrow and cobbled and everything is double the price! Having said that we did see some intereting things and some stunning architecture, mostly via my prefered method of touristing: wandering around barely paying attention and viewing the world from terrace bars!
That said, and with so much catching up to do it was unavoidable that we sampled the Belgian beers to excess Saturday night and only once failed to avoid a tourist-trap expensive bar, we also sampled some fine Belgian quisine. That's right! We found a gourmet Kebab Restaurant!!!
Bar a pissed up pair of Ruger-buggers invading the room at about five in the morning the hostel was fine and so I was in fine fettle when I made my way back out on Sunday. At this juncture I should point out that two things made me distinctly uncomfortable on my trip to Brugge. The first was the fact that Brugge is in Flanders, where of course they speak Dutch and despise French. However bad my french is this was the first time in my life really that I was without a single word of the local language, little things like 'Hello', 'Thanks', 'Excuse me', 'Sorry' and 'Please', that make you at least seem human and sound polite. Being restricted to hoping people speak English (which in Flanders is basically everyone anyway!) or looking like a simpleton was a bit disconcerting...
The other point was when we decided to go look round an old church. For some reason I always go looking round churches and cathedrals. When people who know I'm a 'devout atheist' ask why I always say 'got to know the enemy' but thinking about it the truth of it is that being devoid of faith and unable to attain it I'm always interested to see what faith does for people. I have visited the Cathedral in Brussels, which Paulina says is boring. A building that took 300 years to complete and saw the deaths of hundreds I find staggering, especially all in the name of faith! Anyway this chapel we visited is home to a very special relic, a vial of the blood of Christ (in all probability a vial of goat/dead beggar/dog blood or not even blood but what the hey!) and when we visited it just so happened to be the day of the year when it is 'venerated' or on show to raise money for the church! So as there is no que we decide to go over and see it, as I walk up to the altar where it is there is a sign saying 'Venerating the relic is an act confirming your devotion to the son of God, please give accordingly.' I know its a cheap way of guilt-tripping the faithful into giving bucketfuls of cash but it did make ME feel a little guilty, and faintly awkward, all the more when he woman taking the donations gave me a beautific smile and a blessing as I tossed a Euro in the box. In the end it was a fancy ornate tube with some very desicated material inside, it may of been blood (if so it had separated into white and red cells before drying out) it may of been anything. I still felt uneasy.
Having spent the best part of two days in each others pockets it was time to say goodbye. We all promised to keep in touch, maybe visit, I gave them a PSE goody bag and that was that, well except for the fact that a marathon cut the city in half for an hour, me on one side, the train station on the other... Brugger!
Tuesday 1 May 2007
Strasbourg: waste of money, time and effort; Love it!
It's true, Strasbourg is one of the few times the Rabid, mouth-frothing Euro-sceptics are right. It is a gargantuan waste of money, it's carbon footprint is huge and everyone hates going there but because of a clause in a treaty it stays and Frnace has a veto over getting rid of it. Madness. Add to that the five hour train journey at 7AM on Monday morning to get there and you hate it. Right?
Wrong.
It was great, the city is fantastic and the work was for me great too but we get ahead of ourselves, back to the journey from hell...
I get up at half 5 feeling like the living dead, leaving the house at six. I've left so early as I'm not sure if I will need to walk to the station or if I can get the metro, the metro is open... shit thats 20 minutes in bed I'm not getting back! The Metro is surprisingly full considering its ten past six in the morning, either half of Brussels is going on my train or they do this every day!!! Madness. No job is worth leaving the comfort of bed before 6 every morning...
Get to the platform expecting to see an ultra-modern trans-continental train, at least something like an old Inter-city. No it's a sodding local commuter train from the 1970s, something not even CENTRAL SODDING TRAINS, the WORST bloody Train company in Britain use anymore!!! So much for public transport in Europe being better! Oh and fantastic, there'S no Buffet car. What! No Buffet car!!! NOBODY ON THIS TRAIN HAS HAD BREAKFAST!!! Have I boarded a train to Strasbourg or some sort of masacist-holiday torture train?!?!?
After some pleasant scenery, anouncements in three languages every stop (I swear, I won't be surprised if in twenty years Belgium just speaks English!) and a bizarre ten minute stop in Luxembourg (where the Belgian crew was replaced by a French one, and those who were desperate enough ran off to get food and drink!) we eventually arrived in Strasbourg at 1257. After checking in to my Hotel, I went to McDonalds (I know but I was desperate) and then jumped on the Tram. Okay, the train may of been shit but Public Transport is still so much better over the channel. The Trams were all uber-modern super-slick and pretty fast and for a single journey it was 1€30!
Getting to the Parliament was like beeing back on day 1. Not really knowing where I was and beeing a bit wide-eyed-stupid about it all. The Parliament in Strasbourg is on two sides of a canal (with only one bridge between the two parts), and from the road entrances I think it is ugly. Only from the canalside does the building look good (which is of course where all the pictures are taken). The layout (on both banks of a canal for God's sake! Bloody stupid!) means you also spend about 2 hours a day walking... It is ridiculous! Still the work was really interesting all week. Because Chris the main assistant wasn't there it meant I was doing alot of his job too, which meant attending all the committee's and group meetings (always funny, President of the Socialists is a bald German who gets angry alot... hilarious!) and other stuff too.
Strasbourg itself is great too, a really chilled out city with a good nightlife (although I'm told this is significantly worse when the Parliament is not there). An example of how chilled out it is was on the first night there. We had been planning on going to a restaurant in town, but after settling in at a Peristroika's Bar (what a fucking cool name!) me and Mario (a cheecky Spaniard who works for another MEP) had decided to blow it off and just get a Kebab later on. Anyway as we're sat there the President of the European Parliament (equal to the Speaker of the House of Commons or maybe the Lord Chancellor) just strolls by, no security, no worries, just out for a stroll and a beer! Later on in the week I was witness to him cracking on to a pretty female assistant in the lift, spot on!
On Wednesday the President of India was in town to sign a cooperation deal and make a speech to the full Parliament Plenary session. I've said it before but its true, this place is important. Does anybody really think that the leader of the biggest democracy in the world would make a speech to 800 MEPs if they didn't matter? Thursday morning then saw Segolene Royal arrive and do a event with the Socialist group. Unfortunately I couldn't go as I was finishing off in the office before knocking off at lunchtime to explore the city. The old city is on an island in the river (not sure which one but its a tributary to the Rhine) and is a great place to wander round... that is if your not in a work suit sweating in 30 oC heat! After some sight seeing it was back on the train from hell for the encore performance...
Still despite all that I'd go again!
Wrong.
It was great, the city is fantastic and the work was for me great too but we get ahead of ourselves, back to the journey from hell...
I get up at half 5 feeling like the living dead, leaving the house at six. I've left so early as I'm not sure if I will need to walk to the station or if I can get the metro, the metro is open... shit thats 20 minutes in bed I'm not getting back! The Metro is surprisingly full considering its ten past six in the morning, either half of Brussels is going on my train or they do this every day!!! Madness. No job is worth leaving the comfort of bed before 6 every morning...
Get to the platform expecting to see an ultra-modern trans-continental train, at least something like an old Inter-city. No it's a sodding local commuter train from the 1970s, something not even CENTRAL SODDING TRAINS, the WORST bloody Train company in Britain use anymore!!! So much for public transport in Europe being better! Oh and fantastic, there'S no Buffet car. What! No Buffet car!!! NOBODY ON THIS TRAIN HAS HAD BREAKFAST!!! Have I boarded a train to Strasbourg or some sort of masacist-holiday torture train?!?!?
After some pleasant scenery, anouncements in three languages every stop (I swear, I won't be surprised if in twenty years Belgium just speaks English!) and a bizarre ten minute stop in Luxembourg (where the Belgian crew was replaced by a French one, and those who were desperate enough ran off to get food and drink!) we eventually arrived in Strasbourg at 1257. After checking in to my Hotel, I went to McDonalds (I know but I was desperate) and then jumped on the Tram. Okay, the train may of been shit but Public Transport is still so much better over the channel. The Trams were all uber-modern super-slick and pretty fast and for a single journey it was 1€30!
Getting to the Parliament was like beeing back on day 1. Not really knowing where I was and beeing a bit wide-eyed-stupid about it all. The Parliament in Strasbourg is on two sides of a canal (with only one bridge between the two parts), and from the road entrances I think it is ugly. Only from the canalside does the building look good (which is of course where all the pictures are taken). The layout (on both banks of a canal for God's sake! Bloody stupid!) means you also spend about 2 hours a day walking... It is ridiculous! Still the work was really interesting all week. Because Chris the main assistant wasn't there it meant I was doing alot of his job too, which meant attending all the committee's and group meetings (always funny, President of the Socialists is a bald German who gets angry alot... hilarious!) and other stuff too.
Strasbourg itself is great too, a really chilled out city with a good nightlife (although I'm told this is significantly worse when the Parliament is not there). An example of how chilled out it is was on the first night there. We had been planning on going to a restaurant in town, but after settling in at a Peristroika's Bar (what a fucking cool name!) me and Mario (a cheecky Spaniard who works for another MEP) had decided to blow it off and just get a Kebab later on. Anyway as we're sat there the President of the European Parliament (equal to the Speaker of the House of Commons or maybe the Lord Chancellor) just strolls by, no security, no worries, just out for a stroll and a beer! Later on in the week I was witness to him cracking on to a pretty female assistant in the lift, spot on!
On Wednesday the President of India was in town to sign a cooperation deal and make a speech to the full Parliament Plenary session. I've said it before but its true, this place is important. Does anybody really think that the leader of the biggest democracy in the world would make a speech to 800 MEPs if they didn't matter? Thursday morning then saw Segolene Royal arrive and do a event with the Socialist group. Unfortunately I couldn't go as I was finishing off in the office before knocking off at lunchtime to explore the city. The old city is on an island in the river (not sure which one but its a tributary to the Rhine) and is a great place to wander round... that is if your not in a work suit sweating in 30 oC heat! After some sight seeing it was back on the train from hell for the encore performance...
Still despite all that I'd go again!
Friday 20 April 2007
Lisbon isn't working because they're all on siestas...
It was bound to happen...
I'm sorry but I can't resist any longer ... as fun as telling you all about my drunken exploits is I must now have a political rant-ish... I promise to try and keep this short and as entertaining as possible...
To those who don't know the Lisbon Agenda is the EU's plan to make Europe the most competitive economy in the world by 2012. This includes taking action on job creation and job quality, productivity, research and technology, education and a whole raft of other things.
It's not working. In fact its fucked.
Before coming out here I didn't know why. It is a sound idea, on paper what has been said and promised looks feasible and achievable. So why doesn't it work? I can explain.
It's the Belgians fault.
Okay this may be a slight over-simplification but allow me to explain my reasoning. One example. In the UK you can access your account with your bank card on any cash machine in the UK, even if its a foreign card. In Belgium you can''t. This is just one small example of the problems.
Before the Easter bank holidays (that means Wednesday here, cause the EP staff takes Thursday off too, slackers, MEP staff had to work) we were going for a coffee after lunch in the EP. At the coffee shop we go to there are two bars to get a coffee, but because it was a day before the EP shuts one of them was shut causing massive ques at the other, which caused some people not to bother! WHAT THE HELL!!! Why shut one!?!?!? Its just STUPID!!!
Another example. The most efficient, practical and profit-driven of bars in Brussels tend to be the Irish ones. These you can expect the closest to good customer service you will get. Over the bank holidays (so Good Friday and Easter Monday) they refused to open until 5... They normally open at 12... Yes thats right when everyone is at WORK they open at 12 but when everyone is OFF WORK WANTING A PLACE TO GO they CLOSE!!! WHAT THE FUCK!!! And thats the good ones, some normal bars didn't even open! And you can forget about doing anything on a Sunday, Brussels shuts down! If it wasn't for the damn Church bells going off from the damn Church I live on the same street as I would suspect that even they shut on Sundays!
Of course Belgium is not alone in these things... These problems of simple inefficiency are inherent in many EU countries, and if you think these small scale problems are bad the macro-economic ones are just as stupid and trivial but prevent alot of things getting done. As funny as it is to laugh at stupid sleepy Europeans these types of policies prevent job creation, economic growth and many other important developments. Its just stupid.
Okay political rant over. Next post will be about social stuff promise, and next week I'm going to Strasbourg so will tell you all about my week in Stras and France-that-was-Germany-that-was-France-that-was-Germany (oh dear now I'm doing history, I need a drink!) soon!
I'm sorry but I can't resist any longer ... as fun as telling you all about my drunken exploits is I must now have a political rant-ish... I promise to try and keep this short and as entertaining as possible...
To those who don't know the Lisbon Agenda is the EU's plan to make Europe the most competitive economy in the world by 2012. This includes taking action on job creation and job quality, productivity, research and technology, education and a whole raft of other things.
It's not working. In fact its fucked.
Before coming out here I didn't know why. It is a sound idea, on paper what has been said and promised looks feasible and achievable. So why doesn't it work? I can explain.
It's the Belgians fault.
Okay this may be a slight over-simplification but allow me to explain my reasoning. One example. In the UK you can access your account with your bank card on any cash machine in the UK, even if its a foreign card. In Belgium you can''t. This is just one small example of the problems.
Before the Easter bank holidays (that means Wednesday here, cause the EP staff takes Thursday off too, slackers, MEP staff had to work) we were going for a coffee after lunch in the EP. At the coffee shop we go to there are two bars to get a coffee, but because it was a day before the EP shuts one of them was shut causing massive ques at the other, which caused some people not to bother! WHAT THE HELL!!! Why shut one!?!?!? Its just STUPID!!!
Another example. The most efficient, practical and profit-driven of bars in Brussels tend to be the Irish ones. These you can expect the closest to good customer service you will get. Over the bank holidays (so Good Friday and Easter Monday) they refused to open until 5... They normally open at 12... Yes thats right when everyone is at WORK they open at 12 but when everyone is OFF WORK WANTING A PLACE TO GO they CLOSE!!! WHAT THE FUCK!!! And thats the good ones, some normal bars didn't even open! And you can forget about doing anything on a Sunday, Brussels shuts down! If it wasn't for the damn Church bells going off from the damn Church I live on the same street as I would suspect that even they shut on Sundays!
Of course Belgium is not alone in these things... These problems of simple inefficiency are inherent in many EU countries, and if you think these small scale problems are bad the macro-economic ones are just as stupid and trivial but prevent alot of things getting done. As funny as it is to laugh at stupid sleepy Europeans these types of policies prevent job creation, economic growth and many other important developments. Its just stupid.
Okay political rant over. Next post will be about social stuff promise, and next week I'm going to Strasbourg so will tell you all about my week in Stras and France-that-was-Germany-that-was-France-that-was-Germany (oh dear now I'm doing history, I need a drink!) soon!
Monday 16 April 2007
The sights of Brussels beyound Herrmann-Debroux...
Last week was abit of a edgy one, for astart I didn't get paid until Thursday and had about 15 Euros to live on until then. Work was great, with more compliments about the quality of my work off of the boss but the cash flow crisis really put a downer on things especially s it had been the Easter weekend. Things could of been worse however but then I won 25 Euros on England losing to Australia in the cricket by 7 wickets... A lack of patriotism proving useful yet again! To the sharp eyed amongst you yes I did win €25 and yes I did only have €15 to live on, but when you win a bet in the bar its only natural to buy yourself a drink or two...
The lack of funds made life particulary fun I can asure you, and most evenings for the week leading to Thursday were spent moaning about having no money with Arthur (Dutch housemate) who had also not been paid and who was also skint! Still when your poor the free things in life all of a sudden become more fun (well thats what I told myself!), like going to the park, where they have finally turned the fountains on, and the weather is great. Still as much fun as bonding over poverty with your housemates and the great outdoors is I was greatly relieved when I was paid! Besides that nature stuff is nasty, and I'm pretty sure too much Sunshine is a bad thing too!
Friday night saw a barbeque at my workmate Chris's house, this was great but things took a turn for the worse at about half ten when I get a text off my Irish mate Joe... 'Having a drink in the Joyce, fancy going clubbling in town?' Harmless enough you may think, just politely decline as your already pretty drunk and are having a nice time with your friends... 'Sure, still at BBQ just finish my drink then will join you. 30mins'
And that was my first mistake.
In my defence I was interested in going clubbing in the city centre as I hadn't been to any clubs in the city centre before. Secondly, well... I was already pretty drunk and it seemed like a good idea at the time! We left the Joyce at about 12 and got a taxi into town. Joe is new to Brussels too and so we just asked the Taxi driver for a good club where we could have a drink and dance... This translated into the drivers head as STRIPCLUB! When we realised where he had dropped us off we were not best pleased, especially as we only realised the error as we were asked for €60 to get in! We finally found a club and unfortunately I was in bad shape soon afterwards and recollection becomes hard...
Fast forward to 430am.
I'm pissed, wandering the streets of Brussels somewhere, where I don't know. I find a map on a Bus stop, I don't really recognise where I am but I see a Metro stop marked about a mile or so north of my position. It is called Herrmann-Debroux. That is the end of the line in the south-east of the city. That means I'm on the outskirts of the city, in fact the forrest to the south of the city is looming large on the map closer to me than the sodding Metro stop! HOW THE HELL HAVE I ENDED UP HERE!!! The club, I now know is slap bang in the city centre! I also now know I left the club at about half 2. So that means I must of tried to walk home and WALKED FOR TWO HOURS THE WRONG WAY!!! 'Shit'.
I spent the next two hours or so trying to walk back, but I didn't make much headway, in fact as I kept coming back to painfully familiar streets I was in fact walking in circles... Arthur tells me that people over a long period of time naturally walk in circles even when fully aware of their actions... I didn't stand a chance! At half 5 I decided that action was necessary and so when I saw two guys loading small packages into the boot of a car I decided to ask for help... I think the fact that I was clearly a pissed foreign idiot saved my bacon there, as looking back they were quite clearly two big nasty drug dealers... My broken french didn't work and when they replied in quite a hostile tone of voice I fell back on my tried and tested gallic shrug and walked off... By 7am it was daylight and I still hadn't even made it to Herrmann-Debroux, either it was further than I thought or I had really messed up! At the latest Bus stop after looking at the map I see on a little electronic notice board that the next Bus is going to the Bourse in 10 mins, 'Aha!' The Bourse is the stock exchange back in the centre of the city! Okay, its half an hour from my house but its a start! I sit at the bus stop and wait, I wake up just in time for the bus, a man is standing smiling at me as if I'm an idiot... okay I am but still! I finally got home at 8am, I hadn't been robbed, beaten up, injured or had anything else bad happen to me despite chatting to two unfriendly drug dealers... Either Brussels is the safest place on earth or else there is no justice in the world!
The lack of funds made life particulary fun I can asure you, and most evenings for the week leading to Thursday were spent moaning about having no money with Arthur (Dutch housemate) who had also not been paid and who was also skint! Still when your poor the free things in life all of a sudden become more fun (well thats what I told myself!), like going to the park, where they have finally turned the fountains on, and the weather is great. Still as much fun as bonding over poverty with your housemates and the great outdoors is I was greatly relieved when I was paid! Besides that nature stuff is nasty, and I'm pretty sure too much Sunshine is a bad thing too!
Friday night saw a barbeque at my workmate Chris's house, this was great but things took a turn for the worse at about half ten when I get a text off my Irish mate Joe... 'Having a drink in the Joyce, fancy going clubbling in town?' Harmless enough you may think, just politely decline as your already pretty drunk and are having a nice time with your friends... 'Sure, still at BBQ just finish my drink then will join you. 30mins'
And that was my first mistake.
In my defence I was interested in going clubbing in the city centre as I hadn't been to any clubs in the city centre before. Secondly, well... I was already pretty drunk and it seemed like a good idea at the time! We left the Joyce at about 12 and got a taxi into town. Joe is new to Brussels too and so we just asked the Taxi driver for a good club where we could have a drink and dance... This translated into the drivers head as STRIPCLUB! When we realised where he had dropped us off we were not best pleased, especially as we only realised the error as we were asked for €60 to get in! We finally found a club and unfortunately I was in bad shape soon afterwards and recollection becomes hard...
Fast forward to 430am.
I'm pissed, wandering the streets of Brussels somewhere, where I don't know. I find a map on a Bus stop, I don't really recognise where I am but I see a Metro stop marked about a mile or so north of my position. It is called Herrmann-Debroux. That is the end of the line in the south-east of the city. That means I'm on the outskirts of the city, in fact the forrest to the south of the city is looming large on the map closer to me than the sodding Metro stop! HOW THE HELL HAVE I ENDED UP HERE!!! The club, I now know is slap bang in the city centre! I also now know I left the club at about half 2. So that means I must of tried to walk home and WALKED FOR TWO HOURS THE WRONG WAY!!! 'Shit'.
I spent the next two hours or so trying to walk back, but I didn't make much headway, in fact as I kept coming back to painfully familiar streets I was in fact walking in circles... Arthur tells me that people over a long period of time naturally walk in circles even when fully aware of their actions... I didn't stand a chance! At half 5 I decided that action was necessary and so when I saw two guys loading small packages into the boot of a car I decided to ask for help... I think the fact that I was clearly a pissed foreign idiot saved my bacon there, as looking back they were quite clearly two big nasty drug dealers... My broken french didn't work and when they replied in quite a hostile tone of voice I fell back on my tried and tested gallic shrug and walked off... By 7am it was daylight and I still hadn't even made it to Herrmann-Debroux, either it was further than I thought or I had really messed up! At the latest Bus stop after looking at the map I see on a little electronic notice board that the next Bus is going to the Bourse in 10 mins, 'Aha!' The Bourse is the stock exchange back in the centre of the city! Okay, its half an hour from my house but its a start! I sit at the bus stop and wait, I wake up just in time for the bus, a man is standing smiling at me as if I'm an idiot... okay I am but still! I finally got home at 8am, I hadn't been robbed, beaten up, injured or had anything else bad happen to me despite chatting to two unfriendly drug dealers... Either Brussels is the safest place on earth or else there is no justice in the world!
Thursday 5 April 2007
Right, now its up-to-date so now I can ignore it again...
Not alot going on at the mo. I could tell you about my weekend in the UK but that defeats the object of this blog and I saw most of you there anyway (I assume the only people who will ever look at this blog are my friends/associates/enemies back home).
This week was a constituency week, meaning the Parliament is effectively closed and the MEPs all stay in their home countries, letting us catch up on work... okay letting us slack off whenever we want and spend all day updating our blogs!
Other than being shot down for the first time over here (we all knew it was going far too well on that score to last, I can almost hear the nods and the sighs of relief that normal order is back!) and then spending money that I don't have to get wankered 'cause of it last night, not much has happened.
Oh and I'm on Facebook now (George Sinnott not Synnott) so feel free to annoy me on there too!
Speak soon
This week was a constituency week, meaning the Parliament is effectively closed and the MEPs all stay in their home countries, letting us catch up on work... okay letting us slack off whenever we want and spend all day updating our blogs!
Other than being shot down for the first time over here (we all knew it was going far too well on that score to last, I can almost hear the nods and the sighs of relief that normal order is back!) and then spending money that I don't have to get wankered 'cause of it last night, not much has happened.
Oh and I'm on Facebook now (George Sinnott not Synnott) so feel free to annoy me on there too!
Speak soon
The problem with sharing your birthday with the EU...
The problem with sharing your birthday with the EU is that it is probably the only fifty year old which is statistically likely to outlive me... Depressing. Still not going to let that get in the way of getting ratted now am I! Besides, we all know that out of the EU, the Anniversary of the Slave Trade's abolition and my birthday that I AM THE MOST IMPORTANT!!!! Ahem, sorry about that.
The Friday before my birthday I was trying to sort out my finances on the phone to the bank. It was about five and the office was winding down with most people on the floor just killing time till Happy Hour at the Pullman on Place Lux.
'Hi I want to transfer some money into a Belgian bank account. Can you tell me how much this will cost?'
'Certainly, it will cost....'
I lost him at this point as the entirety of the EPLP assistants and stagiares poured into the office singing happy birthday.
'Sorry I'm going to have to call you back' as a chocolate birthday cake is handed over.
The bloody candles would't go out either. They were bloody sparklers or something and everytime one went out it would smoke and then relight, even when I put them out with my bloody fingers! So they were thrown out the window before the fire alarm went off. Still an hour of drinking cheap wine and a foul Hungarian spirit meant that I was already in fine fettle upon reaching the Pullman. The night quickly descended into messiness and at 11ish we crashed some guys house warming party for food then I wandered home with a girl who knew the way and of course we managed to find a bar on the way back too. This of course just set the tone for the weekend!
Brussels was buzzing all weekend and there was a huge free concert at the Atomium on Saturday night. I didn't really know any of the acts. It was mainly Europop with some aging German metal heads and a very depressing French singer. It was pretty fun though and a good introduction to European music. Some of the groups were even pretty good, including a Belgian band, really! Fifty thousand people were there and the Atomium was a great venue making a great backdrop and also a brilliant fireworks display.
The one annoying thing with the event were the bloody Belgian presenters! After every bloody act they hauled over the singer or band and bloody interviewed them! And because this is Belgian every answer and question was repeated and translated into five bloody languages! You'd think a country that speaks too many languages would focus on non-verbal stuff, especially at a sodding concert but oh nooo, that would be far too simple! Also the Flemish guy out of the two (the other being a French woman, I think that is always the way round as well...) was a complete clown and also seemed really bitter about the fact that one of the acts - a previous Belgian Eurovision act - hadn't won it. I wasn't surprised, she was shit.
After the concert I got off the metro at Schuman at about 1 and went in to my local for one. Five hours later I rolled out of there with Paulina - my Polish housemate - and staggered home... Jon the aussie barman had been plying me with shots 'for my birthday' and although I felt okay at the time the next morning I couldn't feel my legs!
After getting up at half three the logical thing to do would be to eat something and then go back to bed... So I went out and celebrated my momentous 22 years on the actual day and got abit pissed... Its okay I made it in to work the next day at half 8... besides pickled things last longer, take that EU!
The Friday before my birthday I was trying to sort out my finances on the phone to the bank. It was about five and the office was winding down with most people on the floor just killing time till Happy Hour at the Pullman on Place Lux.
'Hi I want to transfer some money into a Belgian bank account. Can you tell me how much this will cost?'
'Certainly, it will cost....'
I lost him at this point as the entirety of the EPLP assistants and stagiares poured into the office singing happy birthday.
'Sorry I'm going to have to call you back' as a chocolate birthday cake is handed over.
The bloody candles would't go out either. They were bloody sparklers or something and everytime one went out it would smoke and then relight, even when I put them out with my bloody fingers! So they were thrown out the window before the fire alarm went off. Still an hour of drinking cheap wine and a foul Hungarian spirit meant that I was already in fine fettle upon reaching the Pullman. The night quickly descended into messiness and at 11ish we crashed some guys house warming party for food then I wandered home with a girl who knew the way and of course we managed to find a bar on the way back too. This of course just set the tone for the weekend!
Brussels was buzzing all weekend and there was a huge free concert at the Atomium on Saturday night. I didn't really know any of the acts. It was mainly Europop with some aging German metal heads and a very depressing French singer. It was pretty fun though and a good introduction to European music. Some of the groups were even pretty good, including a Belgian band, really! Fifty thousand people were there and the Atomium was a great venue making a great backdrop and also a brilliant fireworks display.
The one annoying thing with the event were the bloody Belgian presenters! After every bloody act they hauled over the singer or band and bloody interviewed them! And because this is Belgian every answer and question was repeated and translated into five bloody languages! You'd think a country that speaks too many languages would focus on non-verbal stuff, especially at a sodding concert but oh nooo, that would be far too simple! Also the Flemish guy out of the two (the other being a French woman, I think that is always the way round as well...) was a complete clown and also seemed really bitter about the fact that one of the acts - a previous Belgian Eurovision act - hadn't won it. I wasn't surprised, she was shit.
After the concert I got off the metro at Schuman at about 1 and went in to my local for one. Five hours later I rolled out of there with Paulina - my Polish housemate - and staggered home... Jon the aussie barman had been plying me with shots 'for my birthday' and although I felt okay at the time the next morning I couldn't feel my legs!
After getting up at half three the logical thing to do would be to eat something and then go back to bed... So I went out and celebrated my momentous 22 years on the actual day and got abit pissed... Its okay I made it in to work the next day at half 8... besides pickled things last longer, take that EU!
Life so far...
Been sending out email updates on my adventures so far. See them below!
1) Bonjour from Brussels! 7/3/07
Hi all,
Just thought I'd finally get round to emailing you all, as I have a free few mins. I am intending to hopefully annoy you all with regular updates on my sordid adventures over here and some nutters among you have suggested I set up a blog but thats still wwork in progress!
For those of you who don't know, I recently started (as in last week) a short term job in Gary Titley MEP's office in Brussels. Sorry I didn't tell you all sooner but there was only a week between getting the job and coming over so I had little time! Suffice to say I'm thrilled and having a great time. Also if any of you ever fancy a weekend away feel free to visit!
Today sees me officially survive a whole week out here and its been great! The view from my office of the 13th floor of the Parliament is fantastic, and that pretty much sums up the week! The first three things I noticed about Brussels were dog poo (loads of it), Bars (very nice, and good beer!) and Pharmacies! There must be one on every street! Belgians are evidently hypercondriacs. I'm living in a classic European city house with three other 20-somethings, a Dutch guy and a German who have temporary jobs at NATO and a Polish girl who just finished one at the Committee of Social and Economic Affairs. The house is just off Square Ambiorix near Schuman and is a nice area with parks, shops and several Irish Pubs!
As for the job its fantastic. And I tell you this, anybody who tells you the European Parliament doesn't matter and has no power don't have a clue! The policy work done here daily is vastly important, and several times over the last few months the EP has brought the Commission and Council of Ministers crashing down. The place is great and I'm happy to be a part of it!
2) Blizzards and Booze-ups... 19/3/07
Hi all,
Bet you thought you were rid of me by now, well unlucky! How are you all? I'm very well, despite the freak blizzard that engulfed Brussels today! At one point you couldn't see out of the window it was so thick but now just as quick its all melted, weird, but apparently it happens quite regulary!?!?!?
Finally did some touristy stuff, visiting the Grand Place, the Cathedral and the Royal Palace and its Parks. The one problem with the Grand Place is it ain't that Grand! The buildings are great and ridiculously oppulent and sculpted but the actual square is tiny! Wind assisted I do believe you could spit the distance!
The Park was abit dishevelled too. I don't know why but all the fountains in the city have been allowed to go dry, its actually quite depressing when you look at them filled with skate-boarding scallies (true Belgian scallies are particularly comical. I think it would take about three of them to take on a scally from Stoke for example).
Last week the Parliament was having its monthly Plenary session in Strasbourg (which by the way is oppossed by basically every MEP but is only continued because the French Gov like to think Stras is the Capital of Europe, not Brussels, and they would veto any attempt to change it! Sign the petition at www.oneseat.eu) and so I was left in charge in Brussels, guarding the office! Of course, most of the action was going on in Stras. Despite this I still had plenty to do but also had time to get to know the other Stagiare's and generally have fun!
Obviously last weekend was a train wreck of a piss up - thank you very much St Patrick! But its true you know, wherever you are, Guinness tastes different...
1) Bonjour from Brussels! 7/3/07
Hi all,
Just thought I'd finally get round to emailing you all, as I have a free few mins. I am intending to hopefully annoy you all with regular updates on my sordid adventures over here and some nutters among you have suggested I set up a blog but thats still wwork in progress!
For those of you who don't know, I recently started (as in last week) a short term job in Gary Titley MEP's office in Brussels. Sorry I didn't tell you all sooner but there was only a week between getting the job and coming over so I had little time! Suffice to say I'm thrilled and having a great time. Also if any of you ever fancy a weekend away feel free to visit!
Today sees me officially survive a whole week out here and its been great! The view from my office of the 13th floor of the Parliament is fantastic, and that pretty much sums up the week! The first three things I noticed about Brussels were dog poo (loads of it), Bars (very nice, and good beer!) and Pharmacies! There must be one on every street! Belgians are evidently hypercondriacs. I'm living in a classic European city house with three other 20-somethings, a Dutch guy and a German who have temporary jobs at NATO and a Polish girl who just finished one at the Committee of Social and Economic Affairs. The house is just off Square Ambiorix near Schuman and is a nice area with parks, shops and several Irish Pubs!
As for the job its fantastic. And I tell you this, anybody who tells you the European Parliament doesn't matter and has no power don't have a clue! The policy work done here daily is vastly important, and several times over the last few months the EP has brought the Commission and Council of Ministers crashing down. The place is great and I'm happy to be a part of it!
2) Blizzards and Booze-ups... 19/3/07
Hi all,
Bet you thought you were rid of me by now, well unlucky! How are you all? I'm very well, despite the freak blizzard that engulfed Brussels today! At one point you couldn't see out of the window it was so thick but now just as quick its all melted, weird, but apparently it happens quite regulary!?!?!?
Finally did some touristy stuff, visiting the Grand Place, the Cathedral and the Royal Palace and its Parks. The one problem with the Grand Place is it ain't that Grand! The buildings are great and ridiculously oppulent and sculpted but the actual square is tiny! Wind assisted I do believe you could spit the distance!
The Park was abit dishevelled too. I don't know why but all the fountains in the city have been allowed to go dry, its actually quite depressing when you look at them filled with skate-boarding scallies (true Belgian scallies are particularly comical. I think it would take about three of them to take on a scally from Stoke for example).
Last week the Parliament was having its monthly Plenary session in Strasbourg (which by the way is oppossed by basically every MEP but is only continued because the French Gov like to think Stras is the Capital of Europe, not Brussels, and they would veto any attempt to change it! Sign the petition at www.oneseat.eu) and so I was left in charge in Brussels, guarding the office! Of course, most of the action was going on in Stras. Despite this I still had plenty to do but also had time to get to know the other Stagiare's and generally have fun!
Obviously last weekend was a train wreck of a piss up - thank you very much St Patrick! But its true you know, wherever you are, Guinness tastes different...
Friday 30 March 2007
Hmm.. so this is what being one of those annoying bloggers is like...
Alright all... whoever that is...
I've finally got round to doing this now. Will write stuff up properly on Monday-ish.
Speak soon
I've finally got round to doing this now. Will write stuff up properly on Monday-ish.
Speak soon
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