A good craic

Off to Dublin last week!  My partner this time was young Richie from the Development Office whom Julian had let off the leash for once (fortunately, he's not a sheepdog).

Our event was held at the Gresham hotel on O’Connell Street, and very nice it was too, and by 7.30pm it was well served with Aber Alumni. Everyone who said they were coming turned up, even some people that didn’t tell us they were coming came along. The more the merrier I say!

Many of the guests were telling me that they had taken distance learning courses which means that while they were students they would have had the pleasure of studying in Aber for a week or two during the summer. Lucky them!

This was the first time we’d held a reunion in Dublin: our Irish cousins certainly seemed pleased to see us and the car stickers and fridge magnets went down a storm. The venue was great, the conversation was lively, songs were sung and a certain amount of wine was drunk. I didn’t get to bed until after midnight, having I managed to stay up through shear determination!

To be contin-ewed…....

The Mighty Finn

When Julian told me to pack my bags and accompany Louise to the international librarians’ conference 2012, I nearly skipped around the field!  All those dozens of Aber librarians from all around the world gathered in one place – how could I resist?  I’m sure you already know that Aber librarians are to be found in most of the world’s greatest libraries, so you can understand that I was keen to meet them.
Travelling with Louise is a different experience to my usual squash into Julian’s luggage – this time I had the luxury of a spacious handbag, although I didn’t look too closely at some of the other stuff in there.   Helsinki is a beautiful city combining historic traditional quayside buildings with a modern city centre, a tram system and wide open streets, which I was told was so that the snow could be ploughed to the sides in winter.  However, there was unlimited sunshine for our Aber librarians in August, unlike at home where Wales had unlimited rain. 

Locals were very friendly and helpful to Louise (poor thing can only speak English, no Welsh or Finnish at all) and managed not to laugh too obviously when she could find the hotel but not the entrance to it and had to ask a barman for directions.  I was slightly disappointed that she didn’t manage to find a nice little meadow for me, but there were some tasty little parks and hidden gardens between the buildings for quiet snacking.

During the conference I held a bit of a party for our alumni and was delighted to find not only librarians but also a couple of international politics alumni had come along.  Rebecca Davies, Pro Vice-Chancellor and a librarian too, gave an update on Aber and we had some amazing Finnish nibbles.  My favourite were green, sugar coated apple flavoured jellies.  I was hoping for grass flavour when I saw them, but apple’s nearly as good.

It was only a couple of days, but I was exhausted with chatting to all those bookish types (and not a dusty tome in sight; they’re well ahead of the game with digital archives and all sorts of electronic data-keeping) so I slept all the way back in the handbag ready for the next stop on the list. 

Look out Dublin, here I come!

Bloomberg tones it down?

Having survived the nail-biting purgatory of flying in an aircraft only wide enough for three seats and a gangway, we deplaned at JFK Airport and headed for our hotel in downtown New York. Why we “deplaned” rather than just “got off” was never explained.

New York has never been one of Julian’s favourite cities since he is a naturally unsociable animal who is easily frightened by loud noises. Thus, the huge throngs of people and the requirement of all drivers of automobiles, vans, pick-up trucks and lorries in Manhattan to beep their horns at regular intervals combined to keep his nerves on edge. Or at least that used to be the case. I don’t know whether there has been an edict from Mayor Bloomberg restricting the honking, but it was definitely a quieter visit than heretofore.

 Unchanged, however, was the level of knowledge and comprehension of the local taxi drivers. Having tried unsuccessfully to get “Water Street and Wall Street” across to the cabbie eight times, Julian finally put the address into his iPhone and leaned through the small Perspex window into the driver’s seat and showed him.

 New York hotels are usually either somewhat tatty or only affordable if you can live off the interest on your interest. For once, a happy medium was found in the bijoux hotel in the financial district that the ever-reliable Hotwire.com managed to come up with. True, a swinging cat would have a sore head if visiting, but everything was new, clean and, more importantly, worked. The hotel was just over the road from Pier 17 where the tall ships are moored and we were therefore able to have a very pleasant wander down the riverfront.

The next day was a different matter. Julian was in Midtown for a breakfast meeting and for the next fourteen hours was walking up and down from 39th to 46th streets seeing alumnus after alumnus prior to the event which, this year, was held at the Penn Club – thanks to the kind sponsorship by member Max Goodwin. Having had previous contact with the Welsh Government’s team in the US, not only were we very well served with Aber alumni, but also various luminaries of the Welsh ex-pat community were kind enough to attend. The venue was excellent , the conversation animated and the Vice-Chancellor’s message went down very well indeed. The only fly in the cowpat was a period during which, having been knocked onto the floor behind the entrance table, I was completely stranded and ignored. Hardly a dignified moment but I suppose, for once, I wasn't the guest of honour so it was slightly more understandable.

And then it was back to JFK for the red-eye home.  It is always a great deal easier to get out of the USA than it is to get in, so the queues were short, the grilling by officials non-existent, and Julian ignored the rules on livestock yet again by sticking me into his sock-bag.  I'm off to cooler climes shortly, and without Julian (for which relief much thanks).  Look out for my next blog from Helsinki!

 

The case of the missing shower gel

America is a truly wonderful place.  As we flew into Washington DC I was, as usual, flabbergasted by the range of services and utilities available to the discerning and not-so-discerning consumer.   In a society which has taken the Victorian concept of entrepreneurism to unimaginable heights, business opportunities for manufacturing and/or services to make one’s life easier abound.  If one wanted to set up a booth in an airport wherein one could have one’s nose-hairs trimmed before that all-important business meeting, they would make a space available.  One almost gets the feeling that anything that happens which irritates is not seen as an annoyance but as an opportunity to invent something to ensure that whatever it was doesn’t happen to anyone else.
Upon arrival at our hotel, therefore, and checking into our room, I was suddenly struck by something which, in Houston, I had presumed to be a local foible but which turns out to be endemic to the country:  no shower gel.  Compared to the usual Holiday Inn Express on the M4 corridor near Slough, of course, the bathroom is the very lap of luxury and conspicuous consumption.  There are shoe-cleaning kits, cotton buds, sewing kits, mouthwash, numerous sizes of bars of soap, body lotion, hand lotion, eyewash, exfoliants and make-up remover.  But no shower gel. 

Is there a reason for this?  Was a laboratory mouse washed for sixty days continually with shower gel and then developed a tumour leading to the immediate Federal banning of the product?  Is shower gel the property of a cartel that has overpriced the licence to manufacture?  Given that Americans shower more than the rest of the world put together, what can explain this absence of the most important invention since the espresso machine?
Perhaps more importantly, is this an opportunity which the US business school professors have missed?  Should the School of Management & Business at Aber be fast-tracking a new course in liquid soap manufacturing?  If someone does crack this market, does this blog serve as a patent-pending on the idea?

But I digress ... as usual.  Far more important than chasing a bar of soap round the shower cubicle (as I don’t have fingers this is more difficult than might first appear) was the arrival in DC of the Vice Chancellor, Prof April McMahon.  Given the circumstances – two powerful women sharing the same stage – we got on famously.   An eminent linguistics professor, April learnt Welsh in the three months between her appointment and arrival and we were able to natter away to each other without Julian, a fey Saesneg who has enough trouble making himself understood in English, being able to follow the conversation.

Our alumni event took place at the offices of the Promontory Group in central Washington, thanks once again to the generosity of Debra Cope.  The assembled throng hung on every word of the VC in DC as she spoke about the changes taking place at Aber and, most excitingly, of the plans for the future of Old College.   As so often happens, the event overran by nearly an hour and only the arrival of security and the imminent threat of overtime for the cleaning staff brought the evening to a close.

Now it’s off to the Big Apple.  The VC and her team have an impossible schedule as they visit current and potential institutional partners all over the north-east as well as attend our alumni events.  In comparison, we have it easy as all of Julian’s meetings are in the major conurbations.  The downside is that the tiny commuter aircraft flying between DC and NYC (think: flying pencil) always give me the heebie-jeebies. 

Don't mess with Texas

What, you may well ask, does the title of this latest installment of the ongoing saga of my wanderings mean? That's what Julian, my malodorous companion on my current trip to the US, asked himself as well. The phrase adorns roadside hoardings, bumper stickers, t-shirts and even a pack of playing cards in the hotel gift shop.

Since the petite and enormously polite young girl in the local coffee shop seemed unintimidating, and was therefore unlikely to pull out a .357 Magnum and blow a hole in him, Julian decided to bite the bullet, so to speak, and ask her. "Oh," she said, "I'm sure I don't know. Isn't it something about litter control?" The Texas oilman in the hotel bar was unequivocal: "It's telling them *#^%#* in Washington to keep their cotton-pickin' hands of our inalienable and constitutional rights," he boomed. "We don't want them thar carpetbaggin' sunzovbitches telling' us God-fearin' Texicans how to run our business." Julian and I were none the wiser.

The litter theory seemed to be the official version, but there is the secondary libertarian undertone which makes it witty and which can frighten the fleece off of a pacifist sheep. At the end of the day we just couldn't imagine the Holiday Inn in Slough having a pack of cards in their lobby with the phrase "Keep Britain Tidy" emblazoned upon it.

Lest there be any misapprehension that we are not feeling right at home in Houston, this is one of the most welcoming of American cities and everyone is continually wishing us a pleasant next twenty-four hours. More importantly, this is the home of the original and much-beloved FOB (the Feisty Old Broad) - Jane Stilley. Jane is the nicest lady in Texas, and also one of my biggest fans (she puts up with Julian and even pretends she likes him but it is only me she really bonds with). She organised the truly memorable reunion we held at the Rainbow Lodge in Houston and both collected us and returned us to our hotel. What a girl!

The reunion/gathering was a huge success, with old friends and new coming together and, despite having to listen to Julian pontificate about strategic plans and new initiatives, everyone seemed to enjoy themselves immensely. Now it's off to College Station, the home to Texas A&M University, and a chance for Julian to get very depressed about the resources his opposite number at this most successful of Texan universities has at his disposal to keep their alumni happy. I have pointed out that the Aggies, as they are called, don't have a sheep like me, but he merely retorts that we don't have 85,000 alumni coming to every home match to watch the 1st XV stuff Bangor. There's no pleasing some people.

It ain't half hot, Mum

Gawd it's hot in 'ere.  I gather in Aber its about 40 degrees at the moment.  So it is in Perth, merely with a different temperature measuring system, or so Julian says.  He has tried to explain to me the difference between Fahrenheit and Centigrade, or is it Celsius, or does it matter if they are the same ... except Fahrenheit isn't the same, or so I'm told.  Anyway, I'm roast lamb and you lot in Wales are cold as mutton, I gather.

Anyway, it's off to the University Club of Western Australia (calling another university UWA is bound to cause loads of problems even though we are desperately trying to get everyone to call us Aberystwyth University these days and still finding embarrassing examples of our not having updated some of our signs and documents yet) where the facilities are wonderful, the beer cold, and the welcome predictably warm.  John Watts was our saviour for the evening, having sorted out the venue and helped us navigate some of the interesting bureaucracy.  He was joined by stalwart supporters Don and Anne Boyer, not to mention Roger Dean and Michael Hession - to name but two.  There were lots of newcomers too and even a lost sheep (a somewhat inappropriate metaphor I would suggest) who turned up out of the blue and much appreciated for all that (Good on yer, Stefan).

Of course, being Perth, 90% of those present were Geologists.  Now, I need to digress briefly:  Western Australia is undergoing a natural resources boom with massive labour shortages and ridiculous amounts of money being available for anyone from kitchen helpers via truck drivers to petrochemists willing to be flown into the outback to help dig up anything that doesn't move on a two week on, two week off, basis.  Cue the geologists, aka Gods in their own lunchtimes.  If they say dig in a place, it gets dug.

Imagine the incredulity, therefore, when we found a geologist within the room who was working for a bank!  In any event, Julian was saved from lynching as the representative of the place that had merged its geology department with the hated geographers for the second year running (thanks to some nifty footwork and a hatload of blarney) and the evening rolled on very pleasantly indeed.  Again, Anne Boyer held me for the photograph as last year and was just as respectful as before.  Julian got sunburnt, the friends that put him up wished he had gone to the hotel, and his hosts small hairy dog was looking at me with a mixture of hunger and lust which I am now glad to be away from.

Now just the final venue of this trip - Dubai.  It's been a year - I wonder if we'll recognise the skyline?

If we hold it, they will come

Sydney is a slightly odd place, primarily because people live, work and visit here for so many and various reasons.  Australia generally tries hard not to have class distinctions (with varying degrees of success) and their city centres did not grow up over hundreds of years like in Blighty.  Thus, pinstripes vie with flip flops as the dress code, and major company office blocks are often right next door to a backpackers' hostel.  For a sheep, it is a cosmopolitan wonderland of differing cultures, costumes, attitudes and behaviour.

Our venue for the evening, a wonderful little "boutique" beer temple called the Redoak, played host to a similarly varied group of Aberites, young and old, old hands and recent arrivals, academics and commercial types.  More importantly, we tripled the attendance from just a year ago.  If we hold it, they will come indeed.

We were particularly honoured to have Richard Morris as our guest, the Consul General for New South Wales and the Director General of UK Trade and Investment in Australasia.  Refreshingly, he would rather for the evening just be a fellow Aber grad and was treated as such, and a great companion he proved to be.  Roger Donbavand, a member of Aber's Development Advisory Board had but recently arrived in Australia, and Simon Ashley was, as ever, our most genial of hosts.  He also took Julian for a "nightcap" afterwards, but wiser counsel prevailed for once and my intrepid companion was tucked up in bed in time for a modicum of sleep before the early departure to the airport for the flight to Perth.

I had been treated to a suitably respectful audience with Richard during the afternoon at the British Consulate where the view over Sydney Harbour was truly breathtaking.  Not as good as the view from Consti, you understand, but close!

Raffles and Vertigo

Singapore - clearly one of the entrepreneurial capitals of the world.  You can tell a lot about a country from their media.  In Singapore, the local radio intersperses interviews with experts explaining the benefits of networking events for your business with little "tips of the day" on obscure English pronounciation - the lingua franca of business here.  The presumption is that everybody has their own business, and probably most people do, from the tiny stall to the megacompanies.  If you don't make your own fortune through business then you are presumed to be at least playing the stock market, and tips and trends also wing their way across the airwaves regularly.

Now, for a fashion-conscious sheep who thinks that a stock market is a pen at a Builth Wells sheep auction, this is somewhat confusing.  So I decided not to try and fathom the intracacies of integrated capitalism and instead suffered from severe vertigo in our hotel.  This is called the Holiday Inn Atrium for a good reason.  Its got an atrium.  For the uninitiated, this is a very big hole around which those of a delicate disposition hug the walls as they walk shakily from the lift (which is glass) to their room.  Think High Anxiety for those of you who are film buffs.

One has to wonder how many guests they lose per year as the slightly tipsy bounce off the walls and disappear over the non-too-high guardrails thirty floors up.  One equally has to say, however, that it's highly impressive.

But enough of these side-issues.  We are here to meet alumni and meet them we did.  At the aptly-named Blarney restaurant and bar (Julian was in his element), a great cross-section of alumni (another apt metaphore for Singapore itself) gathered for an evening of nostalgia and forward-thinking.  Andrew Jones and Duncan Edwards were our hosts and, in a country where ties are rarely seen being just 85 miles north of the equator, duly were presented with University ties and tie-pins as a modest thank-you by the Vice Chancellor.  There were a few no-shows (shame on you all) but more than enough guests to keep the chat going and the ties renewed (as well as the new ties).

Too hot to stay inside (I am told that the coldest temperature ever recorded in Singapore was 21C) we drifted out to the terrace where we could marvel at the new financial district, most of which appeared to have been built since our visit a year ago and all on reclaimed land.  This is a can-do society!

The following day, we had some free time before the Vice-Chancellor's plane departed back to Blighty and became unashamed tourists.  Raffles Hotel was a must (Julian's family will now know most of what they are getting for Christmas this year after his visit to the gift shop) as was the National Museum of Singapore and the ubiquitous Singapore Sling.  Then it was back to the hotel, a farewell to Prof McMahon, then a few hours of kip before a very early start to the aiport for the flight to Sydney.

BB with VC in KL

To Kuala Lumpur, always one of the high points of any alumni trip, where we joined up with our new Vice Chancellor, Prof April McMahon, and, as a result, where Julian had a stern word with me about being on my best behaviour.  I ask you, when did you ever see a badly-behaved sheep?  We have a limited range of activities at the best of times - stand, eat, chew, move around a bit, chew some more.

The grand old man of Malaysian alumni, Tan Sri Arshad Ayub, honoured us with a meeting at our hotel where serious and weighty matters were discussed which went right over my head (okay, that isn't particularly high but you get the picture).

Tan Sri Arshad Ayub with fellow Fellow Datuk Zawiyah Baba

Julian was having great trouble getting his room/lift card to work.  Having failed to authorise the lift to take him to his floor and, after someone else helped him in that first attempt, subsequently being unable to enter his room, he stomped off down to reception to complain.  The charming and utterly polite receptionist checked the card and assured him that it was working perfectly, but, since this wasn't placating the irascible quasi-Irishman, sent a bellboy back up with him to check.  The liveried attendant took the card and rapidly slid it numerous times into the slot until it finally turned green and allowed entry:  "See," he said, "there's nothing wrong with the keycard.  These locks, however, are all bloody useless."

Regular perusers of this blog will know that Aber's Malaysian alumni are unparalleled in their pride, enthusiasm, passion and loyalty to the College by the Sea.  Despite it being a long holiday weekend, the usual chaotic traffic on a Friday evening, and very short notice, some eighty Aberites appeared at the delightful lakeside restaurant which was hosting the reunion event.  Not just numbers, either.  There were three Malaysian Fellows of the University present (including a "royal") as well as the whole distinguished Committee of the Aber Alumni Club in Malaysia and the Vice Chancellor of the Islamic University.  It was quite hard to shine in such distinguished company, especially when I found myself stuck on the lazy susan and going round and round - fortunately it was a fish restaurant and no-one cast hungry looks at me as I whizzed past.

There were speeches, gifts, donations, more speeches, more gifts (even Julian got a couple) and what was particularly pleasing was a large cohort of very recent Aber graduates lending their not inconsiderable volume to the occasion. 

Now it's off to Singapore - no rest for the wicked.

Lying on the shoulders of giants

Hong Kong - it's a wonderful place but not, it has to be said, particularly sheep-friendly insofar as grass is not abundant and I was chased off the Hong Kong Football Club grounds and the Happy Valley Racecourse when I tried to have a quiet chomp. I wouldn't have thought they would have missed a few mouthfuls but I suppose they have to have rules for everyone.

It was back to the wonderfully restrained and elegant Hong Kong Club for our alumni reception on Wednesday evening. Giles Surman was our host again and the turnout was excellent, with both old and new friends turning up to enjoy the company and outstanding refreshments. There was one comment I did not appreciate ("Ah, you've still got that bloody sheep") but took it with good grace. I'm also delighted to say that the car stickers went down rather well and I am looking forward to hearing about the sightings of our "Aber Alumni - still kicking the Bar" message all over the island, Kowloon and the New Territories.

A quick word for Julia Surman who was laid up in hospital - you were sadly missed and get better soon.

As it was, I hung on to Giles' shoulder like grim death in order for the photographer Julian (David Bailey he ain't) to take the necessary snapshot and the evening, as usual, overran and we were being politely but firmly shooed out of the reception room by the end.

Julian's speech concerning the importance of employability for our students and graduates was particularly well received and he came away with some excellent ideas and offers for Aber's latest cohort of bright young things. We have now arrived in Kuala Lumpur where it is significantly hotter. Julian is melting with a significant lack of grace and humour whilst I have yet to leave the air-conditioning of my hotel room. Today we have the honour of a meeting with Tan Sri Arshad Ayub before this evening's meal with the huge following of Aberites we have here. More soon.

Useful tips for travellers

Well, we are on our way again.  Me, that is, and the resident idiot Julian who has kidnapped me yet again for a global odyssey.  At least, I hope it's not an odyssey as there is a rather nice ram making eyes at me just south of Borth and whom I'm not expecting to wait twenty years for my return.

Be that as it may, because I doubt, dear reader, you are particularly interested in the romantic leanings of an ovine entrepreneur, we are off on our travels and have just arrived at the first port of call - Hong Kong.  Now you might reasonably expect that Julian, who has travelled the globe on many occasions, a seasoned traveller, a veritable Marco Polo of academic adventurism, would know what he was doing when it comes to organising himself, local customs etc.  How wrong you can be.  Here is a little check list for you all which I would strongly suggest you commit to memory:

1. If you shave, take a razor.
2. If you have a beard trimmer, pack it with the button turned to "off" so that the battery isn't flat when you arrive.
3. Ditto the electric toothbrush.
4. Ditto your Kindle.
5. Take the chargers for items in points 2, 3 and 4.
6. Don't decide to walk from your meeting back to the hotel (about 3 miles) and expect there to be any public conveniences on the way.
7. Get very concerned when the taxi driver has never heard of your hotel or even the street it is on.
8. Never believe a travel agent (see above).
9. Never eat in a restaurant owned by the cousin of the concierge.
10. Never believe a concierge over the definition of "restaurant".

And that's just the first 36 hours of this journey.  I look forward, dear readers, to keeping you apprised of the remainder of Julian's howlers.  Tomorrow is our first event, another great do at the Hong Kong club courtesy of our great friend, Giles Surman.  Apart from not having seen a blade of grass since I got here, the weather is comfortable (locals = freezing), the people as always (concierges notwithstanding) helpful and charming, and I'm just off for a perm and blow-dry - well, a sheep has to look her best after all.

Pampered in the Pampas

Having picked up another new companion (Julian is fast fading in my memory like a bad dream), it's off to Argentina this time to attend the South America Business Forum.  My partner in crime is Cezary Tarnowski, erstwhile Business Finance student at Aber and a general good egg.  Considering he persuaded three different departments of the University to help finance this trip, I would guess he'll go far in financial circles.

Buenos Aires (known as BA to the cogniscenti) is quite cold at this time of year, but the welcome is warm and Cezary is a bundle of energy, insisting on a quick sight-seeing tour as soon as we've got out of the airport.   On the city tour I was made much of, as is only proper, with many questions as to my origin which allowed both of us to wax lyrical on the subject of the wonderful College by the Sea.

Next day was full tilt into the Business Forum.  I should point out that attendance at this event has to be earned and our friend Cezary had written an essay which was so highly regarded he was one of only one hundred delegates from amongst the three thousand who applied.  I did not need to write an essay, as a VIS (Very Important Sheep), but was interviewed by the Chairman of the Forum as the official representative of the University and in order that the delegates could fully appreciate the value of lamb in the world economy.

Argentina is a bit too "beefy" for my taste, cows being about as welcome to me as mint sauce, but the people are extremely pleasant for all that and this Forum has certainly attracted some very senior business types to be grilled by the students.  I sat through sessions on Web 2.0 (didn't quite get my head around that one), marketing, innovation and even on the future of mankind with a senior General Electric executive.  I asked him if androids dreamt of electric sheep but he just smiled condescendingly.

Now, I'm being stuffed (somewhat unceremoniously) back into Cezary's suitcase for the return journey.  A short, but very full, visit of only three days and then its back to the sweltering heat of an Aber summer (stop laughing, you!).

Robert Peston scoops the n'ewes

At Aber Graduation.  Sweet little lambs that they are, all fresh-faced and dumplings ready for the big bad world with a degree of confidence.  My old mucker Robert Peston is here to receive a Fellowship.  The official photographer, however, was clear as to who is the real VIP which is why the photo below has me in full glory but only half of Bobby's face! 

It's hot in Aber this week (when is it not, I hear you ask?), so hot that the magnificent Aber Arts Centre, where we hold these august proceedings even though it's still July, is wilting the willing alumni staff who are manning the stand dispersing goody bags full of freebies to the graduands.  Louise, the Alumni Manager, is trying to convince anyone and everyone to fan her with copies of Prom.  Try it with a woolly coat, I tell her, even one that is barely recovering from the depredations of the phantom sheep shearer.

I did manage to bump into some Japanese distant cousins (okay, so they are bears and I'm a baa but it's close enough) who agreed to pose with me.  Their kimonos were a delight.

Over two thousand new alumni are joining the fold this week, and I am presiding over eight degree ceremonies to get them all scrolled and gowned.  There's more mortar boards here than at the Olympics building site.

I'm off to Argentina soon, attending a prestigious conference where I shall attempt to wean the Argies off leathery beef and onto mouth-watering, succulent, tender and sweet lambikins.  Got to do my bit for the Welsh Lamb Marketing Board after all.

Lamb Vindaloo

It's hot, folks.  Summer has arrived in Aberystwyth, gateway to the West.  The sky is that particular blue one only gets in Cardigan Bay, the sea is glinting with its reflected glory and the beer-glasses on the Pier shine with a scintillating azure hue as a result.

You would think life was serene, then, wouldn't you?  Well, it would have been, but then some myopic muck-spreader who should have gone to Specsavers grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and I was unceremoniously shorn.  This, despite the fact that I shall be travelling to the southern hemisphere straight after Graduation where it is WINTER!!!  Then there is the question of modesty - its little short of embarrasing to have all one's clothes cut off in front of all of the these sunbathers in skimpy doodads.

The Prince of Wales and the Duchess of Cornwall are visiting west Wales this week - imagine my embarrassment if they turn up in my field with me looking like this?  And it's the Vice Chancellor's final graduation before he retires in July.  What is he going to make of my bald bonce?  The sooner I am in South America where a thong is regarded as being almost over-dressed the better!

Brass monkeys and couch potatoes

Ye Gods, but it's nippy round here.  I have ditched Julian (for which relief much thanks) and have now tied up with a much more compassionate partner in Dr Bethan Williams.  This has distinct advantages:  first of all, she's a Doctor (i.e. she has brains) and secondly she is a she which allows me more sympathetic treatment.

We are now down in the South Atlantic which, although it's what they laughingly refer to as "Summer", is still perishing.  It's a good thing, after all, that I didn't get a woolcut when I was in Australia.  My coat is definitely essential here.

We headed off to Signy Island in the South Orkneys (like the North Orkneys but without Peter Maxwell Davies and fewer Ceilidhs) to drop off some Italian scientists and where we bumped into a family of elephant seals.  These reminded me mostly of Julian in front of the tele.  Huge lumps of blubber doing absolutely nothing for large parts of the day.

I'm the small white object on the grating which gives you some idea just how big these less than attractive monsters are.  Even less appealing are the fur seals which are rather like dogs insofar as they bark at you and are very agile and strong.  Readers will appreciate that dogs that can slap are less than my favourite lifeforms.

More conducive to my wellbeing were the penguins - different types were on view including colonies of adele and chinstrap varieties as well as some visiting gentoo- and lots of other avian cousins ... skuas, terns, and giant petrels amongst others.  Having enjoyed the opportunity to stretch my legs (they are small so they need all the stretching they can get) we have now re-embarked and are on our way to James Ross Island which I presume is where they manufacture frozen fish fingers.

More soon .....

Dubai Dubai Do

I began this blog with a photo of myself framed against the Boston skyline.  It seems only right, therefore, to end it with another cityscape, this time the futuristic skyline of Dubai. 

I've been slightly nervous here, because Gulf citizens have been known to like a piece of slowly-cooked mutton and there have been a few glances at me wherein the smiles have more of a gastronomic rather than garrulous feel about them.   I've tried to hint that there is more than a touch of scabies in my family in the hope that this will make me a little less attractive to any Emirate epicureans.

This is again a city state of extraordinary variety wherein the nations of the world mix and deal with equanimity.  If there remains an old Dubai, I haven't seen it.  Mile upon mile of state of the art infrastructure supporting architecture which is frankly mind-boggling.  Julian was here over a decade ago and yet he recognised but one building, the iconic Sail which still dominates one part of the skyline.  Today, however, one cannot but be drawn again and again to the huge stalactite which stands like an alien cathedral soaring to the heavens in the centre of the city and which quite cowed this sheep.

We adjourned to the roof terrace of the grand ("grand"?  I'm not sure Dubai has anything but "grand") Royal Mirage hotel for the last reception of the tour.  George Stodhard, whose original idea this venue was, sat shivering in temperatures of about 20C and received scant sympathy.  Abbas Yousafzai was our host and, although working all the way down the coast at Abu Dhabi, graced the event with his charming wife.  Peter Hill, HM of the prestigious Dubai College, and Andrew Bone, who runs Hill and Knowlton throughout the region, also attended and made many pertinent and perspicacious comments and suggestions.  The extremely beautiful Wedad bin Braik was joined by her husband, as was Karen Craig who, as a Kiwi, seemed to have got almost as much pleasure out of the Poms stuffing the Aussies as Julian had.  Finally, Graeme Mullin (our man at the FO) and Alun Epps (working for Middlesex University but we'll forgive him) made up the extremely enjoyable party.

So, how to sum up this trip?  Well, human-sheep relations have been put under strain at various times, certainly between me and Julian, and I would urge everyone to lobby heavily for an improvement in the conditions under which ovine transport is regulated.  I've travelled in a briefcase, a carrier bag, with dirty washing, even in the hold of an aircraft on occasion, with no hint of an apology from the fat controller (sorry, Development Director).

On the other hand, alumni relations for Aber has been the big winner.  We've made so many friends, rekindled so many memories, encouraged so much support and created the skeleton of a truly mutually beneficial alumni network worldwide that there is no doubt of the success of the whole enterprise.  Now, Julian has a shed-load of work to do to ensure that the University lives up to its promises and continues to support this network, especially for the younger graduates who will need our help so much in the current economic climate.

Now it's off to the airport, another insufferable flight for me and Julian wondering if there's a movie on the plane he hasn't already seen during the fifteen flights we have taken since November 26th.  Thanks for reading my musings.  I'm off to Antarctica soon so look for me in the frozen food counter as well hopefully a new blog.

Hong Kong Fluey

Now, I know that I might have ruffled a few feathers when I said that Singapore was the most cosmopolitan place on Earth, especially amongst the Hong Kong fraternity.  Now that I'm here in HK, I had better smooth said feathers a bit.

Hong Kong is amazing.  It's still as vibrant, as exciting, as twenty-four hour and as organised an apparent chaos as one is ever going to find.  We are, unfortunately, back in the land of concrete-footwear as far as cab drivers are concerned, allied to an almost suicidal tendency towards lane-changing manoeuvres and automatic transmissions that are well past their use-by date, but that is all a part of the magic of this little island of capitalism.  It is, however, when all is said and done also unmistakeably Chinese, despite the best efforts of 150 years of British rule which ended, let us not forget, only 13 years ago.  Many different nationalities make their home here, do business here, and stamp their imprint on the place, but it is still a part of China.

Talking of different nationalities, I would mention in passing that throughout my long and varied travels, there has been one language which has slightly disturbed me in the regularity with which I have heard it ... French!  There is definitely a gentle move by the French to take over the world.  They are everywhere, trying to establish a hegemony of claret and grenouilles.  I think the media should investigate this new phenomenon before we are all lambs dressed as mouton!

But back to Hong Kong.  I persuaded Julian to take a photo which, I feel, sums up this business-led society.

What's so special about this, you may ask?  Well, where else in the world can one imagine a Rolls Royce dealership nextdoor to a Burger King?

In any event, it's off to the restrained opulence of the famed Hong Kong Club for the alumni reception.  Here the youthful Giles Surman (his phrase) and his delightful alumna wife Julia (Julian's phrase) host a wonderful event.  Edith Lam brings gifts and a sparky enthusiasm from the iCable corporate library where she runs the show (quite literally). 

Talk was rife about the good old days at Aber and the select audience were suitably appreciative of a well-travelled ewe.  Offers of future help were forthcoming and I can assure any Aber grad landing on these shores of a warm and supportive welcome.

Now it's another cosmopolitan centre, this time a newer one in the Gulf.  Dubai, here we come on the last leg of our round the world in 40 days.

Cuddly Kuala

Readers of this erudite exposition of travel and sheepiness will be aware that there have been many surprises, delights and reasons to be proud of our Aber alumni on our long Odyssey.  Nothing, however, (and I mean "Nothing!") had prepared us for the sheer enthusiasm, passion and love for the College by the Sea of our Malaysian alumni.  Nor had we really appreciated just how welcoming a whole country can be until we arrived in the bustling, humid and fascinating city of Kuala Lumpur.

Julian had an inkling of this when he first met Jamal Hassim, actually a Singapore resident but on business in KL at the right moment, who was full of support, enthusiasm and good ideas.  But when he was honoured by a visit to his hotel by Tan Sri Arshad Ayub, the full extent became clear.  Tan Sri Ayub is a difficult man to describe: this is because he has excelled in so many and various aspects of Malaysian life.  At 82, he is as spry as a man half his age, has a keen intelligence and dynamic quality which makes you feel that here is someone who gets things done.  He is regarded as the father of the Malaysian technological university (now known as UiTM) where he was the director for ten years, the lead inspiration in the development of the ACCA accounting qualification in Malaysia, was a deputy Finance Minister, deputy Governor of a national bank, Chairs the Board of the University of Malaysia, sits in unnumerable boards of private and public companies, and is generally, and rightly, revered throughout the country.  Oh yes, and he thought highly enough of Aber to come across town to spend two hours with Julian and blew his socks off!


This was but a hint of what was to come, however.  The current president of the Alumni Club in Malaysia, Nasharuddin Hussin, was on hand at the meeting with Tan Sri Ayub, and could not do enough for us (even to the extent of giving us a lift to the airport the morning after the alumni dinner which is no mean feat when the airport is over an hour's drive away).  He and his energetic committee had organised a dinner at a lakeside restaurant in KL and Julian's office had suggested that up to 78 alumni might attend.  Julian suitably wrote his speech (or the closest he ever comes to writing a speech) to announce that this was the largest, by a factor of four, of any of the events held on this trip. 

As it turned out, over 100 guests turned up through the notorious KL traffic jams to welcome us and to enjoy a sumptuous feast of delicious seafood (sheep are not averse to the odd squid, I can tell you).  Julian had the numeracy to work out this was therefore in fact a five-fold increase in any other event on this trip.  Even Tri San Ayub made a welcome late appearance having left a wedding reception on the other side of the city.  Other distinguished attendees included past Presidents of the club and senior figures in commerce and industry, but equally a welcome and large contingent of young recent Aber graduates including a particularly loud and enthusiastic group of 2008 graduates and Jasmine Ong from the 2009/10 Aber Annual Fund telephone calling team.  Her calling was much better than her car maintenance as her flat battery after the dinner showed!

Speeches flowed, as did the sweat on Julian who was, as usual, dreadfully overdressed, and even Nasharuddin managed to keep his comments to under an hour (apparently a record).  Gifts were exchanged and I, who, as usual, was more popular than Julian, was handled by great personages and attractive young ladies with due respect and dignity throughout.

Tan Sri Arshad Ayub  and I flanked by past Presidents Fariz Abu Bakar and Datuk Zawiyah Baba
(former DG of the Malaysian National Library) [apologies to current President Nasharuddin Hussin who's face Julian managed to cut in two when taking this photo hence the cropping]

Singapore slings like a pendulum do

Julian is definitely starting to feel the pressure of six weeks on the road.  This blog is woefully late in appearing simply because he won't get the laptop out and I can't reach the plug to do it myself.  If he thinks this is tough, just try growing a woolly coat every year.

Anyway, Singapore is a fascinating city/state.  Its legendary neatness, good order and low crime rate notwithstanding, it is the truly cosmopolitan nature of the place which always stands out.  I know I'm going to get it in the withers for saying this is probably the most cosmopolitan place in the world (especially from the Hong Kongers where we travel later in the week), but it is certainly up there in the internationalist stakes and will take some beating.

It has also grown tremendously since Julian was last here.  Where ten years ago barges were dumping landfill into the sea, now there looms the most expensive hotel/casino in the world (to build, that is - there are probably one hundred cramped hotels in Manhattan who charge more to stay!) which is probably familiar to anyone who has watched the Singapore Grand Prix on TV.  It looks remarkably like the W.A.S.P. headquarters from Stingray!

The best asset Singapore has, however, is undoubtedly Duncan Edwards, our host, organiser and adviser who set up a highly enjoyable evening at a cool bar in the imposing One Raffles Quay complex - similarly a new addition to the Singapore skyline.  As we've come to expect, the event was marked by purposeful and pertinent questioning from the attendees who ranged from a Singapore Airlines captain to a super-spook from Control Risks.

(As a byline, what is it about Aber that creates these world experts in security and risk management?  I've met them in three continents now.  At Aber, the biggest security risk is that one leaves one's wallet in the back of a cab or that one falls into the sea after having one over the eight!)

Duncan had festooned the walls of the private room with A3 photos of Aber, both now and way back when he was a student (I won't embarrass him by saying when - I'll just say that the Austin A40 vans looked very quaint).  Seeing the Arts Centre just after it was built was certainly an eye-opener.  As usual, the event over-ran and it was only with difficulty that we extracted ourselves for long enough to grab a few hours of sleep before the early departure for Kuala Lumpur.

Ruminating on and in Australia

It has been a highly frustrating festive period.  Once Julian had completed his Perth duties (except for a wonderful dinner with alumni John Watts, Roger and Gay Dean and John's delightful missus), he relegated me to the hotel room for most of the next two weeks.  If you've ever suffered 40 degrees Celsius in a plastic Aber carrier bag, you will appreciate the suffering I have gone through.

Nevertheless, with a mixture of the occasional outing and long discussions with Julian, watching Aussie television and having to hear the nattering of the chambermaids, I do feel able to make a few sage observations on life Down Under.

To begin with, there is the fauna.  I know that I have more cousins here than everybody in Wales has had hot dinners, but they are imports.  I'm talking here about the indigenous fauna.  To start with, there are the birds.  Outwardly, a lot of them bear similarities to those we see in Wales.  They all appear rather more streamlined, however, with rakish lines and longer bodies.  It's a bit like comparing a Ford Popular with a 1963 Chevvy.  They have crows, ravens, magpies and seagulls - but all with T-bird Fins.  Then there are the ones one won't see in Aber - the parakeets, parrots and, God forgive us, Kookaburras.  To misquote Ogden Nash, they "sound like ... a hepcat on a harmonica."  Another simile might be to relate them to hooting monkeys in an African jungle.  Certainly, Julian reckons they followed him around the golf course, awaiting every bad shot before launching into another hysterical cackle and hoot.

Then there are kangaroos.  If you are misguided enough to believe that sheep are stupid, you have to come to Oz and see the Roos.  Most Australians, certainly in anything remotely resembling the Outback, have great big "bullbars" on the front of their cars because no Roo has the sense to get out of the way of an oncoming vehicle.  Indeed, they have an unnerving habit of jumping out in front of cars in the dusk and becoming spectacular roadkill.  They infested the first golf course Julian played on (see below) and had to be herded away from the balls using a golf buggy.

The image of a little Joey enjoying a ride around in its mother's pouch is also codswallop.  They are too stupid to enjoy the ride and dive in head first so that the only thing you see sticking out are the back legs.

The most dangerous animal in Western Australia, however, is undoubtedly the humble cricket.  Unlike the chirp-chirp sound of the more well-known of this genera, WA crickets sounds rather like two ball-bearings being clacked together.  This is unfortunate, since this is also the sound made by the pelican crossings to aid blind people.  They clack slowly when the signal is on red, and then speed up when the green man appears, thus informing the visually-challenged that it is safe to cross.    Tragically, the crickets also have variable-timing.

The other big difference, apart from the Roos, when playing golf in Australia is that the usual coarse golfer in the UK spends a good part of their day rooting around in the undergrowth searching for a wayward tee shot.  Not so in Oz.  The first time Julian wandered into the bush he was immediately dragged back by a white-faced friend with the hissed warning of "Snakes!!".  It's not that one can see them, you understand, it's just that they have a nasty habit of snoozing under bushes and have been known to take a nice venomous bite out of any tasty ankle which disturbs them passing by.  It is therefore little short of miraculous that Julian, having bought a dozen balls for his first game, played four times in all and has returned with nine of them.  You'll be pleased to know that, like the Ashes, we triumphed.

Perth is regarded by all that live there as little short of Paradise on Earth.  They have a point.  The weather is simply awesome, they have mostly all made a lot of money from the explosion (if that's not too unfortunate a reference) of mining, oil and gas, and they live in homes that would make the average Roman senator envious.  Property prices have skyrocketed, share-dealing in penny mining stocks that can blossom overnight is almost universal, and the quality of life is something quite extraordinary.  Playing bridge with 31 others in someone's garden on New Year's Eve was quite surreal, as was visiting the Pinnacles (a sort of natural Stonehenge in the desert) and the magnificent beaches.

So, with the Aussies still crying into their ice-cold lagers over the triumph of the Barmy Army, we go back to work and travel to Singapore, where the temperature will be close to 10C lower but the humidity will make it feel vastly more uncomfortable.  Tune in again for news of the world's most international city.