Thought Picnic: Earning the Pryce of Revenge in England

England reveals you

Mr. Justin Bieber and his entourage that includes a management team that failed to manage the fallibilities of a pop-star turning into an adult with a fan-base that remains majorly a horde of delirious frenzied kids, might have left the country.

I have no particular dislike for the young man nor can I recognise any of his songs apart from the monotonous Baby that I could not listen to beyond the first minute before I felt like committing hari-kari.

However, England has a way of upending people, there is still a culture and expectation amongst us that foreigners fail to appreciate that they run afoul of all too quickly, Mitt Romney comes to mind.

Help this boy

Earlier, I had expressed utter disdain for the way he traipsed around London with his trousers sagging closer to his ankles than his hips, he deigned to appear literally two hours late, depending on who you believe on a school night for what was essentially a children’s party and then he had a run in with the paparazzi that Justin Bieber suddenly became Justin Bleeper for the expletives that were bleeped out in their encounter.

Walk away, he should have but his exuberance got the better of him and that became the news, that between the sympathy for collapsing on stage, going to hospital, growing older and the other issues as trying to get the under-aged into clubs for his birthday amongst many other things – one can easily suggest his management team be given the pink slip without delay.

Hell receives two new guests

As the saying goes, “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,” we have seen the intoxicating power of revenge and vindictiveness that it consumes all concerned without respite or mercy.

Chris Huhne, a successful businessman turned politician and member of the cabinet not too many moons ago, took his eyes off his wife of 26 years, Vicky Pryce and laid them on his assistant – all hell broke loose and what had been a marital secret with all the little things many will rather not get aired publicly became headline material.

Apparently, Chris has a penchant for putting his foot down hard, well, on the accelerator and cameras littering English roads seem to get excited at ordinary men playing Formula 1 games on our roads, the licence plate number is captured and a little research reveals who the car belongs to – a fine, some points on your licence and maybe a custodial sentence can slow you down to a grinding halt.

A virtuous wife

10 years ago, Chris was caught but he had accumulated enough points to lose his licence if he admitted to his folly, so out of the intricacies of marital God-knows-what, Vicky, the apparently careful driver, vicariously took the points that should have gone to Chris – a virtuous wife who laid down her honour for her husband or as she claims a wife badgered and coerced to do something against her will, her determination and resolve was raped.

So Chris announced to Vicky that he was leaving her, Vicky in her own right is a very successful economist decided all gloves were off and set out to teach her soon-to-be ex-husband a lesson by revealing this secret marital arrangement to the papers, conversations and emails on the matter are quite interesting, thereby ruining Chris’ career, livelihood, fatherly engagement and earning him a conviction that would most likely include jail time.

Oh Vicky, what have you done?

However, in revealing this Vicky had a fight on her hands too, to be able prove that she also did not pervert the course of justice – after one failed trial and another speedy trial, Vicky will most likely head for the slammer too, she might even end up serving longer than Chris in prison – two lives ruined just because one could not walk away.

The irony of this whole saga is that Vicky is now in another relationship with a politician who also had to resign his seat after admitting he submitted false expense claims. Obviously, I will not attempt to draw any conclusions as to the kind of woman Vicky is or the kind of men she attracts; though I am caught between careless and unfortunate.

Into a book of fables

This is no doubt one of the extreme cases where vengeance becomes a black hole, the vortex of which sucks everything into the pit of hell. In other cases, break-ups that have partners denying each other support, parental privileges and other unnecessarily hurtful things that make us less of the people we are or are able to be.

Sometimes you wonder about how people who sometime ago entered into the contract of holy matrimony with all the fanfare, happiness and I dare say, love - after the passage of time and drifting apart that they need to go separate ways turn out to be so bent on destroying each other – they, rather than cherish the memories of the good times they had together, they obliterate everything in the heat of the moment as if that can compensate for anything.

Many newspapers did not need much inspiration to come up with the headline – The Pryce of Revenge – this must go down in the annals of history as a fable and a lesson – If he/she don’t want you no more, walk away and live your life.

Vengeance is mine, always

As if we were not warned before, this is what the Holy Book says; “Dearly beloved, avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath: for it is written, Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord.” KJV – Romans 12:19

Much as Chris should not have stepped on it trying Formula 1 tricks on English roads, Vicky should not have attempted to step into the Lord’s big shoes.

Holiday Snaps: Holiday ends

July should find other places

And so the day came to pack my bags and return home after 17 days away. I cannot say July is the best time to visit Gran Canaria, it is hot, can be humid and many of the locals have gone on holiday.

I cannot say I was much enamoured by the holiday crowd either, things were strange, bizarre, incredible and quite unfunny at times nothing like the people you see in over Christmas and the New Year or in May. I had to deal with animated squeals of negrito, negrito caught between disgust, annoyance and amusement.

I have also been on the island in June, August and September, I think I like May and the turn of the year is usually running away from the cold of Northern Europe.

Almost a disconnect

My pickup arrived on time and the drive to the airport was without event, I was next in the queue and after check-in I settled in the lounge waiting for boarding.

There was a delay to boarding; it took the best part of one hour, with a stop-over in Madrid there was the risk of not making the connection to Amsterdam or having to run for the plane with the danger of my baggage following a lot longer after.

There was only 10 minutes to spare before boarding when I arrived in Madrid and I was already mentally prepared for a night at the airline’s expense in Madrid if things did not link up but the airport crew strike in France meant my connecting flight would also leave late.

Not caught speeding

The flight still took off just 5 minutes later and watching the flight tracking system on the monitor we reached the cruising height of almost 28,000ft but never made 1,000 km/hour, I had my camera ready to take the picture of that but the highest land speed we reached was 998 km/hour before we began descent and the feeling was strange to noticed the reduction in speed to just over 700 km/hour and the to think you’ll never be allowed to do 298 km/hour on land itself except in special circumstances or on high-speed trains.

We arrived in Amsterdam on time where it was 22° Celsius at 22:40 hours, not much different from where I had departed earlier in the day.

Truly home

My good friend came to collect me saving me the struggle of hauling my 30kg of baggage back home. Now to sort out the leakage on my boiler, holiday sometimes takes you from of thinking about these things, but for every journey away there is that home is really sweet home.

In response to the question that came on up on my Facebook page about where that home is, well, it is not in Nigeria, it is in Holland, my heart is in Europe even if my mind does do a lot of thinking about Nigeria not to say that I feel like an Englishman – there is no point pretending the association back then amounted to acceptance, we were singled out as foreigners no matter how hard we tried to adapt to being like our people.

Welcome to recovery

What is recovery?

Sometimes one wonders, as the global economy recovers from the banking crisis, what really constitutes the road to real recovery? The bailouts, the needed reforms and keeping the engine of growth well oiled – the former and the latter are comfortable, reform is a bitter pill.

Likewise, I look at my road to recovery and see certain new thinking and some old habits that die hard – does my full recovery include the reliving of the old or the adoption of the new but unfamiliar? And so much introspection about attitude and the ingestion of pills leads to dilemmas about lessons learnt and ones to discard, reform is not easy.

Escape velocity of a train

For the first time in over 7 months I finally escaped the gravitational pull of being in the Netherlands for a foreign trip to Belgium, Antwerp in fact, just by high-speed train now 1 hour 12 minutes away if there are no delays – this was a journey that usually was about 2 hours 6 minutes – it was my first time experiencing the force of traction at that rate on this journey.

A carefree attitude almost accompanied the booking of my tickets but for the presence of mind to book ones that are changeable, you just never know, the cheapest ticket is not necessarily the best ticket if mistakes or eventualities arise – that must be known.

The inconvenience of not now having a credit card meant transactions were done either with a debit card or with the fact that one still possessed a loyalty card for all sorts of services which had not yet expired.

The Hague is left in the haze

As we raced through the countryside it was not fields of green but greenhouses on swathes of land that imitated foreign climates and lots of tunnels, wherever we surfaced we came up beside macadamised routes for cars and bridges of concrete – indeed, there were areas of nature but not much to admire – contrast with Bohemia and we might well have our windows blacked out.

The route of the high-speed track was bold; bold in the fact that it runs from Amsterdam, through Schiphol international Airport and then to Rotterdam before it arrives in Antwerp in Belgium. The Hague, the administrative capital and seat of government is apparently, well obviously not in the route of the direct journey that runs from Amsterdam to Paris through Brussels.

In words that might sound so foreboding to the residents of The Hague when they do need to go South, they need to board a train to Rotterdam and then change trains – alternatively, they could travel on the slower Intercity train that calls at a few more stations and terminates at Brussels – as I was saying, The Hague has become provincial and almost unimportant – the facts on the track that I have put in words.

Almost business as usual

Everything else had the feel of what I was used to and the questions I would normally ask, as to why I ended up in a twin-bed room rather than a king-size bed room, the safe locked needing opening and what not about services and expectations.

However, one part of the journey I did not fail to notice was when a passenger was told she was not entitled to some apparently free service – she considered it rude, but I thought what she meant by rude was that the steward was not reverential and obsequious – I should have pointed out to the passenger that I did not once hear her say please when she made an aggressive strike for entitlements.

Rudeness begets rudeness, even if the customer thinks they are right – on my part, is this now welcome to recovery?

Thank you.