One of my great regrets of having been spending months down at my mother's pleasure in Chichester is that I have been missing out on the great spectacle of Ken v Boris v Brian v Sian v a selection of other parties many of whom I have never heard of before in the contest for the only political office I would really like to have - Mayor of London. That changes tomorrow when I am going to a live Mayoral debate - I can hardly wait... and I need to remember the rather convoluted question about the westward extension of the congestion charge I said I wanted to ask. But I am sure they won't ask me.... at least I hope so as the debate is then broadcast on Sky News.
But what has come true - at least in certain London restaurants - is that this is a contest that has engaged people... whether on the level of how on earth did a city like London end up with these candidates; to the agonies of what to do with that precious second vote, knowing that what might be best for London could also have unintended national repercussions. And then there is the need to remember just how the system works -- no ones and twos but a column one X and a column two X. And no "none of the above options". And for someone who has always lived in a dull Parliamentary constituency, there is finally a contest where someone can be slightly bothered to go after my vote.
I was flicking through the manifestos as helpfully summarised by Anthony Mayer (for whom I worked on the poll tax - bet he doesn't admit that much around County Hall) who turns out to be the GLA returning officer. One side of A5 probably doesn't offer much scope for sophisticated policy offerings but there was a definite hint of headline populism about most of what was being proposed. And one policy that everyone seemed to have was to lift the curfew on the so-called Twerlies.... those people with Freedom Passes who have at the moment to wait until 9.30 to get on the tubes and buses. I only discovered the concept of the Twerly (based on eager over 60s waiting at bus stops asking "is it too early" at 9.27) at a No. 10 reunion dinner party where Rachel Lomax (Deputy Governor of the Bank of England), Sir Roderic Lyne (former Ambo to Moscow and now consultant to mega-capitalism) and Lord Turnbull (he of Macavity and Stalin and also not short of a non-executive chairmanship or three) were all waxing lyrical about their freedom passes. And indeed coming down to Victoria on Friday I saw a 9.34 Norman Lamont get on the 148 bus to his Mayfair employer -- a man who told me during the last Mayoral contest that he thought Ken had done great things for the buses when he discovered he could get a bus virtually door-to-door for nothing instead of a taxi for rather a lot.. So do we want all these people taking up our seats for nothing before 9.30? Is anyone on the side of London;s workers?
So since I can't remember my question for tomorrow, maybe I will ask which candidate will get the Twerlies under control and promise not to let them compete with honest farepayers who need to work to live rather than supplement already generous pensions.
Further update post debate... and meanwhile, more milestones... first trip on bus unaccompanied (may find it hard to break the taxi habit; first outing without any crutch!!!). Bottomline is I just keep on bouncing.
Sunday 27 April 2008
Saturday 19 April 2008
None of the above
Bad weekend on blogging front... too many distractions -- and new hyper activity regime is distracting from time available (though interesting blogger made it to scrambled word on the backpage of the Times today).
So if I had had time I was going to blog on the merits of Gwynneth Dunwoody vs Zapatero's Ministras; and on our misconceptions of Spain; on the frustration of discovering the IPL was on setanta (to subscribe or not to subscribe, that is the question) and the start of the English cricket season; on whether reality TV was racist .. but instead I went to the gym and the good news is that it is paying off...
Physio today said I was three to four weeks ahead of schedule... not sure what his base was, but this seems to be good news... so its bigger weights, join gym in London and then, sometime in May its more dynamic exercise... first time I have ever found the prospect of getting on a treadmill exciting..
So if I had had time I was going to blog on the merits of Gwynneth Dunwoody vs Zapatero's Ministras; and on our misconceptions of Spain; on the frustration of discovering the IPL was on setanta (to subscribe or not to subscribe, that is the question) and the start of the English cricket season; on whether reality TV was racist .. but instead I went to the gym and the good news is that it is paying off...
Physio today said I was three to four weeks ahead of schedule... not sure what his base was, but this seems to be good news... so its bigger weights, join gym in London and then, sometime in May its more dynamic exercise... first time I have ever found the prospect of getting on a treadmill exciting..
Friday 18 April 2008
Night off
Apologies for blog drought -- but busy(ish) week at work and return of social life. So Tuesday was dinner with bonus private view thrown in, Wednesday hobnobbing at the tennis club (but not playing - am officially "non-playing" now) and discussing London elections with bunches of Boristas, and Thursday the theatre.
First theatre trip this year and the light relief was a play about a life spent aiming to be Prime Minister, which ends with a government in chaos and departure from Downing Street in failure. But it was Jeremy Irons, not Rory Bremner, and the PM in question was Harold Macmillan. Some very big psychological flaws on display - pushy mother worried son would never quite make it; frustrated flirtation with catholicism; near death experience in the Somme... resulting in lifelong haunting by alter ego of non-dead Captain Macmillan. Quite an interesting romp through 20th century -- though a bit of history for dummies. And some really clunky dialogue - and some rather obvious anachronisms -- did Selwyn Lloyd really agonise about what the plan was for post-war reconstruction of Egypt after the Suez planned regime change? But the audience liked it.
But interesting nonetheless... not least to see how government was in meltdown the week I was born (Suez + Hungarian uprising) and what the special relationship felt like then, albeit with the UK as gung-ho aggressor. But the real star were the sets and the recreation of the Somme, the Algerian desert (HM not only survived the Somme, he survived a plane crash in North Africa -- and as far as this shows a vast amount of champagne and cigarettes). Politicians in those days had a rather more lively past than being a Spad and then a brief period after getting a seat and before being elected as a communications consultant.
But although the author tried to make the parallels with today in a rather heavy-handed way, what it really looked like by the end was the Major government. A Chancellor becomes PM; lasting legacy is popularising gambling - Premium bonds vs the lottery; initially popular but then is derailed by European humiliation (though De Gaulle rather than Bill Cash and IDS) and sex scandals -- though Profumo was rather more stylish than David Mellor in a Chelsea strip. Not sure a Major nostalgia evening was quite what Howard Brenton had in mind....
First theatre trip this year and the light relief was a play about a life spent aiming to be Prime Minister, which ends with a government in chaos and departure from Downing Street in failure. But it was Jeremy Irons, not Rory Bremner, and the PM in question was Harold Macmillan. Some very big psychological flaws on display - pushy mother worried son would never quite make it; frustrated flirtation with catholicism; near death experience in the Somme... resulting in lifelong haunting by alter ego of non-dead Captain Macmillan. Quite an interesting romp through 20th century -- though a bit of history for dummies. And some really clunky dialogue - and some rather obvious anachronisms -- did Selwyn Lloyd really agonise about what the plan was for post-war reconstruction of Egypt after the Suez planned regime change? But the audience liked it.
But interesting nonetheless... not least to see how government was in meltdown the week I was born (Suez + Hungarian uprising) and what the special relationship felt like then, albeit with the UK as gung-ho aggressor. But the real star were the sets and the recreation of the Somme, the Algerian desert (HM not only survived the Somme, he survived a plane crash in North Africa -- and as far as this shows a vast amount of champagne and cigarettes). Politicians in those days had a rather more lively past than being a Spad and then a brief period after getting a seat and before being elected as a communications consultant.
But although the author tried to make the parallels with today in a rather heavy-handed way, what it really looked like by the end was the Major government. A Chancellor becomes PM; lasting legacy is popularising gambling - Premium bonds vs the lottery; initially popular but then is derailed by European humiliation (though De Gaulle rather than Bill Cash and IDS) and sex scandals -- though Profumo was rather more stylish than David Mellor in a Chelsea strip. Not sure a Major nostalgia evening was quite what Howard Brenton had in mind....
Saturday 12 April 2008
Storm re a teacake
Most people have an enduring affection for the UK's VAT zero rates - the main exceptions are the hapless individuals who have spent time answering correspondence from the mothers of oversize children who can't understand why supersized Jeremy has to pay VAT on his school blazer while anorexic forty year olds can buy the latest size zeros in Topshop VAT free.
But while the children's clothing zero rate usually generates the biggest postbag, it is the food borderline that verges in the surreal -- something I had forgotten until the issue reared its ugly head again with the decision vs HMRC in re M and S teacake this week (it looked more like a chocolate marshmallow to me - but as they could say in Spain - yo que se?). The borderline was not at issue here -- that had been decided N years ago - but it still looks pretty odd. For those of you not up with VAT intricacies, the key and much disputed issue re teacakes, jaffa cakes etc etc, is what is a cake (VAT rate zero) and what is a biscuit (VAT rate 17.5%). The alleged test is whether aforesaid object softens on ageing (= biscuit) or hardens (= cake). But what nobody seems to question (and what probably only Alex Allan as a C and E neophyte in the 70s knows) was why cakes are deemed worthy of a zero rate and the evil biscuit attracts the full whack....
The tax purist would argue that the right answer (and how many times did we dream of this in the Chancellor's Private Office) would be a single uniform VAT rate across the whole economy. But the advent of the EU minimum standard rate of 15% in 1992 probably put paid to that (the fiscally neutral equivalent used to be about 12%).
But now that food policy is back on the agenda -- alongside increasing concerns about the expanding national waistline - there might be a case for looking again at some of the oddities of the VAT treatment of food. So given that a uniform move to 17.5% looks a courageous Chancellorial move too far, it might be a start to move cakes to the other side of the borderline - a healthy cake is pretty much of an oxymoron.
Having started there, and notwithstanding Delia's latest attempts in "How to cheat" to convince us that processed is best - or at least OK - how about 17.5% on all processed food - and keep the zero rate just for that nice fresh stuff - whether from Kent or Kenya. Or 17.5% on anything that has red or amber on a food label - which owed probably amount to much the same thing. Come on Jamie -- your next campaign?
Of course I realise that there will be scope for more arguments. Is UHT milk processed or not? what about those innocent smoothies (fruit juices and blended fruit drinks like smoothies are now at 17.5% alongside Coke and Sunny Delight -- HMRC believes food - however rich in e numbers - is an essential of life but beverages aren't)? what about the frozen peas so beloved of Gordon Ramsay and our top chefs? Anyone for Birds Eye v HMRC?
Still, a serious look at the way we tax food seems about 36 years overdue - and that is before we start thinking up new ideas like the famed but stillborn PMSU fat tax. But once we have started out making more sense of VAT we can start looking at what 21st century sins we want to target with excise duties.
But while the children's clothing zero rate usually generates the biggest postbag, it is the food borderline that verges in the surreal -- something I had forgotten until the issue reared its ugly head again with the decision vs HMRC in re M and S teacake this week (it looked more like a chocolate marshmallow to me - but as they could say in Spain - yo que se?). The borderline was not at issue here -- that had been decided N years ago - but it still looks pretty odd. For those of you not up with VAT intricacies, the key and much disputed issue re teacakes, jaffa cakes etc etc, is what is a cake (VAT rate zero) and what is a biscuit (VAT rate 17.5%). The alleged test is whether aforesaid object softens on ageing (= biscuit) or hardens (= cake). But what nobody seems to question (and what probably only Alex Allan as a C and E neophyte in the 70s knows) was why cakes are deemed worthy of a zero rate and the evil biscuit attracts the full whack....
The tax purist would argue that the right answer (and how many times did we dream of this in the Chancellor's Private Office) would be a single uniform VAT rate across the whole economy. But the advent of the EU minimum standard rate of 15% in 1992 probably put paid to that (the fiscally neutral equivalent used to be about 12%).
But now that food policy is back on the agenda -- alongside increasing concerns about the expanding national waistline - there might be a case for looking again at some of the oddities of the VAT treatment of food. So given that a uniform move to 17.5% looks a courageous Chancellorial move too far, it might be a start to move cakes to the other side of the borderline - a healthy cake is pretty much of an oxymoron.
Having started there, and notwithstanding Delia's latest attempts in "How to cheat" to convince us that processed is best - or at least OK - how about 17.5% on all processed food - and keep the zero rate just for that nice fresh stuff - whether from Kent or Kenya. Or 17.5% on anything that has red or amber on a food label - which owed probably amount to much the same thing. Come on Jamie -- your next campaign?
Of course I realise that there will be scope for more arguments. Is UHT milk processed or not? what about those innocent smoothies (fruit juices and blended fruit drinks like smoothies are now at 17.5% alongside Coke and Sunny Delight -- HMRC believes food - however rich in e numbers - is an essential of life but beverages aren't)? what about the frozen peas so beloved of Gordon Ramsay and our top chefs? Anyone for Birds Eye v HMRC?
Still, a serious look at the way we tax food seems about 36 years overdue - and that is before we start thinking up new ideas like the famed but stillborn PMSU fat tax. But once we have started out making more sense of VAT we can start looking at what 21st century sins we want to target with excise duties.
Friday 11 April 2008
Overdelivered?
There is a saying about being careful about what you wish for which seems to apply rather aptly to current developments in the housing market. Reducing house prices has been an objective of policy for some time - and one that seems to be about to be delivered well ahead of schedule. A few braver commentators are venturing to say that a house price correction may not be the end of the world, may indeed be rather overdue and could be good news for first time buyers - and flicking through the property brochure at the breakfast table this morning there seemed rather a lot of scope for corrective adjustment. But am not sure that the housing market is flashing green as a success in performance reports at the moment.
Which is a shame - because a saner attitude to housing - where prices related more to actual consumption of housing services and less to prospective untaxed capital gains - would reduce the strange and pernicious housing bias of our economy. It would stop people being driven into massive overextension to buy - because renting was a "waste" - and stop mortgage lenders being tempted into lending to doubtful risks. It would stop people like me from feeling foolish for not being overhoused - and not borrowing to ensure I was - and missing out on the chance to stack up even more unproductive equity.
But even though anyone who is interested in housing as housing can be pretty sanguine about general house price movements, the fact that we ask housing to play to many roles - as investment portfolio, as future pension, as collateral for other borrowing, as a general source of feeling "rich" means that when the housing market starts to droop, the rest of the economy heads lemming like for the cliff.
Which always made reducing house prices an interesting policy objective - but one only to be achieved by stealth over years of gradual erosion relative to rising incomes - not by a step change in delivery of the sort we are witnessing now. And what would be interesting is whether this downturn changes attitudes to housing - or whether after a couple of slightly hairy years of market dislocation - with rising repossessions, thin markets as sellers strike, and new build dries up - we return to the same old spiral as happened last time round. Or will anyone fight the next election on policies explicitly designed to restrain demand as well as increase supply?
Which is a shame - because a saner attitude to housing - where prices related more to actual consumption of housing services and less to prospective untaxed capital gains - would reduce the strange and pernicious housing bias of our economy. It would stop people being driven into massive overextension to buy - because renting was a "waste" - and stop mortgage lenders being tempted into lending to doubtful risks. It would stop people like me from feeling foolish for not being overhoused - and not borrowing to ensure I was - and missing out on the chance to stack up even more unproductive equity.
But even though anyone who is interested in housing as housing can be pretty sanguine about general house price movements, the fact that we ask housing to play to many roles - as investment portfolio, as future pension, as collateral for other borrowing, as a general source of feeling "rich" means that when the housing market starts to droop, the rest of the economy heads lemming like for the cliff.
Which always made reducing house prices an interesting policy objective - but one only to be achieved by stealth over years of gradual erosion relative to rising incomes - not by a step change in delivery of the sort we are witnessing now. And what would be interesting is whether this downturn changes attitudes to housing - or whether after a couple of slightly hairy years of market dislocation - with rising repossessions, thin markets as sellers strike, and new build dries up - we return to the same old spiral as happened last time round. Or will anyone fight the next election on policies explicitly designed to restrain demand as well as increase supply?
Monday 7 April 2008
Brain numb
and that is after only three and a half days back at work... how is it that being back in the office seems to have deleted all interesting thoughts from my head -- well actually just all thoughts full stop.
But the exciting stuff -- since may have to wait until a bit later to get back into proper blog mode - is that I managed the assault on the north face of my flat - got up in two minutes and even managed a rather scary attempt to plant new maple tree (a present from Civil Service Live! - not sure whether there is an exclamation mark but I feel there should be) on my roof terrace. And, since coming down is even harder than going up, the very good news is that I was no longer there when the snow came down.
Didn't stick around in NHG for the chance to mug Konnie Huq or Tim Henman outside my door or be roughed up by spooky Chinese bouncers in what looked like UN blue. Decided to take refuge in Chichester. But the major development is exponential growth in walking ability. Can now move around my mother's house without crutches (key thing about here is that there is a lot of soft stuff to fall on).
So will continue reduced hours schedule. Have discovered work is quite tiring -- not quite worked out yet why. But sort of good to be back and have more to worry about than whether Federer will ever win another tennis tournament or how the Indians managed to get bowled out before lunch for 76 or whether Angela Lansbury will solve yet another death in Cabot Cove which makes Morse's Oxford or the killing fields of Midsomer look safe(though the former both interesting questions in their own way -- and quite interesting to wonder why Serbia has two of the top three women - while they had to play under bombing raids - and the top British woman is ranked 122.... but then that moves onto the vexed Britishness question of whether the new Tebbit test is to support Andy Murray at tennis when I think he is a boring brat and, as he falls down the rankings, clearly Scottish.)
Am doing the blog on my lunch break (that is in case the thought police are on to me at the moment -- if i were at work I would be sipping a low fat cap in the atrium now). So its back to the grindstone and then the gym where am now using a range of fancy new machines on the lowest imaginable settings.
But the exciting stuff -- since may have to wait until a bit later to get back into proper blog mode - is that I managed the assault on the north face of my flat - got up in two minutes and even managed a rather scary attempt to plant new maple tree (a present from Civil Service Live! - not sure whether there is an exclamation mark but I feel there should be) on my roof terrace. And, since coming down is even harder than going up, the very good news is that I was no longer there when the snow came down.
Didn't stick around in NHG for the chance to mug Konnie Huq or Tim Henman outside my door or be roughed up by spooky Chinese bouncers in what looked like UN blue. Decided to take refuge in Chichester. But the major development is exponential growth in walking ability. Can now move around my mother's house without crutches (key thing about here is that there is a lot of soft stuff to fall on).
So will continue reduced hours schedule. Have discovered work is quite tiring -- not quite worked out yet why. But sort of good to be back and have more to worry about than whether Federer will ever win another tennis tournament or how the Indians managed to get bowled out before lunch for 76 or whether Angela Lansbury will solve yet another death in Cabot Cove which makes Morse's Oxford or the killing fields of Midsomer look safe(though the former both interesting questions in their own way -- and quite interesting to wonder why Serbia has two of the top three women - while they had to play under bombing raids - and the top British woman is ranked 122.... but then that moves onto the vexed Britishness question of whether the new Tebbit test is to support Andy Murray at tennis when I think he is a boring brat and, as he falls down the rankings, clearly Scottish.)
Am doing the blog on my lunch break (that is in case the thought police are on to me at the moment -- if i were at work I would be sipping a low fat cap in the atrium now). So its back to the grindstone and then the gym where am now using a range of fancy new machines on the lowest imaginable settings.
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