What do you call it, when you have ignored that voice for so long, that you don’t even hear it?

What do you call it when you are doing all this at office? To somebody you like hanging around?

Smarties

My aunt had recently visited us from the US, and she left some stuff behind when she finally left.

I was just rifling through those things this morning and among those that caught my eye was this box of multivitamin tablets, mostly because it was in the shape of a box of Smarties.

The funny thing was, I wouldn’t have been surprised, if instead of multivitamins, Smarties came out of that box – according to the company that made these multivitamins, the USP of this product is that it is “Designed by a Second Grade Teacher!”

I don’t know about you, but I’d prefer years of research backing my medicines by qualified professionals.

I did a search on their product, and have a look at what came up.

Maybe they should add another tagline: “Advertising Creative – Done by a Second Grader.”

The market did not take this kindly, and was tanking to the lowest recorded fall on a budget day in a decade, even as the Budget bill was being presented. One might be even inclined to dismiss this budget as a failure, but on close examination, one realises there is more to the budget than meets the eye.

Backdrop

During the last edition of the UPA government, the economy had been booming. The resounding figures of growth were regularly confirmed by the World Bank and other institutions like clockwork, FDI inflows were booming, coupled with unprecedented growth in the agri-sector, it seemed India had finally arrived.

At the end of the last government’s tenure, private sector investment had reached the highs India had never seen, eclipsing both government expenditure as well as the household sector. (Ref.: India in the Great Recession, Ila Patnaik and Ajay Shah, April 15, 2009) This is an important inflection point in any economy, since the government will have a lesser role to play in supporting the growth of the nation, and it can focus its resources on building high quality infrastructure and institutions that are required to reform the system. It was precisely because of this situation that the government could bring out the farm loan waiver scheme in the last budget.

This growth trend, however, was cut short abruptly due to the uncertainty because of the financial crisis. Due to this, the investment in the economy fell to a low not seen since the recessionary phase in 1999. As soon as uncertainty hit the system, private sector investment froze up, due to which the GDP growth took a hit.

Sops for everyone

Pranab, knowing this, took charge of the situation and with a view to reviving investment levels in the economy, introduced a heavily deficit budget, though one could argue the government has an incentive to do so, and given the majority numbers it commands in the Parliament, the ability to push it through. The more the government invests in the economy, the more in “control” of the economy it is in.

This budget puts down significant amounts of investment in the agricultural sector – it aims to cover more farmers in the farm loan waiver scheme, including the farmers of Vidharbha – and large infrastructure projects throughout the country. Some of the noteworthy mentions are the NREG scheme, for which the amount allocated is more than double the last time and the Commonwealth Games.

Apart from that, Pranab has gone ahead and put more money in the hands of the people by reducing the 10% surcharge on income tax, with a view to jumpstart the household savings and/or discretionary spending in the country.

Such major investments will definitely have a multiplier effect on the economy, and not all of it will be desirable. Putting more money into people’s hands coupled with the huge debt requirements of the government due to the deficit budget may have an an inflationary effect more than is desired. A plan to check wanton heating of the economy is needed to be put in place, either in the form of monetary or fiscal policies.

The corporate sector will sulk

Since the uncertain situation still remains, Pranab thought it safe to assume that private sector investment won’t be a major force in reviving the economy, which is why, he decided to completely pass them over, except for the token abolishing of the FBT. The only set of people who would cheer in the corporate sector are the C-level executives and the chartered accountants – hardly an inducement for large investments from corporate sector.

But the good news is…

… the budget is not all about heavy expenditure, and this is where Pranab has shown some signs that reforms could be expected in the coming budgets. There is an underlying emphasis on the concern at the levels of taxation in the economy, and the presence of many distortions in the tax regime, for example, the federated system for Goods and Services Taxes being tabled soon, a renewed focus on e-filing of taxes, an introduction of the trust-based tax reporting for smaller companies and entities. Most of the change in the tax regime was concentrated towards removing the red-tape in the tax system.

The reason for this is obvious: The currently tax base is quite small, and cannot support the ridiculous amounts of debt that the government has taken up on itself. Pranab knows that the taxation levels in the economy are pretty high already, which is probably one of the reasons he thought it wise not to fiddle with the corporate taxes this time.

Streamlining the tax procedures itself brings many more people and firms under the ambit of the tax regime, which over the coming years will be necessary to bring up the revenue receipts of the government. Again, it’s only a beginning – much more needs to be accomplished before one can call this a success.

The story is not over…

This is only the first in a series of budget instalments, and Pranab will have to be quite firm in sticking to schedule in bringing the debt levels of the government back to normal. It’s almost certain the next budget will be quite different from this year’s – corporate sector investment will definitely be encouraged, while government spending and tax sops will be toned down. There is tremendous pressure on the economy to perform, due to the high debt levels, and this budget seems like Pranab has thrown everything the government can, at the financial crisis.

The strategy is clear this time: The economy needs to be brought back on track at any cost, and the government is taking great pains to do so, while the corporate sector licks its wounds. Though there is no reason, the steps Pranab has taken should fail, but one should keep in mind has made only a start in the right direction, and he will need enormous resolve to reach the destination.

~

There is a junction of 3 roads right outside my home. And even though it’s an inner lane off the main road, it still has decent heavy traffic at peak hours, enough to make you wait for at least 5-10 minutes before you can cross the road. To make the situation clear, I have included a schematic below.

Schematic diagram of the junction near my house. Done on Open Office Drawing 2.4

Today, when I was coming back from the local shopping complex, I watched this lady pushing a pram with a kid inside, and a kid being held by the hand, as she crossed the road.

If you are a sane person, you would choose option 1 or option 2, keeping a close watch on the kids, so that they are not in the way of the oncoming traffic.

But the lady in question was in a particularly creative mood today, and decided to trace the random path of a Boltzmann gas molecule, right in the middle of the road. If the area wasn’t so well-lit as it was, I hate to imagine what would have happened to the pram.

While this was happening, a man who had told her to be careful, because earlier, an Ambassador moving at a very fast 5 kmph narrowly missed her pram, when she shoved it in the car’s way, was hyperventilating.

Though before I judge her IQ, I must be sure of her intentions. She might be really clever and could have been playing dumb, in order to get rid of her pesky kids. In which case, she should be made Dictator-for-Life of the Kansa Society.

~

I related this incident to my parents, and they said, that last night when they were coming back, they were waiting at a red light. Just as it turned green, the driver stomped down the brakes with both his feet and pulled at the hand-brake till he tore it off, because a kid on a tricycle, sans his parents, had decided that it was the right time for him to cross the road.

But when he heard the collective thump of cheeks hitting windscreens, he decided he just might be better off waiting for the cars to clear out before he put on his daredevil act again.

Again of course, I might be wrong about the parents’ intentions. Sending your kids, who have no traffic sense, out alone on the main boulevards, late at night, is a very clever way to kill your kids. KansaSoc, please to be taking note of such paragons, and to be giving them life-memberships.

~

I think, and seriously that too, that the Kansa Society should put full support to bringing about the Parent-IQ law into existence. Complete with provisions for cops to randomly stop and subject parents to flash IQ tests a la breathalyser tests.

Maybe the State, (here is where the State has incentive also) could start licensing parents before they have kids. Just think of the possibilities – a whole new avenue for corruption, and stuff like that.

Later on, KansaSoc can then resort to beating up stupid parents like a certain Mangalorean vigilante group, claiming to uphold the law of the land. I am already rubbing my hands in glee.

HAVE YOU EVER:

LIST THREE FAVORITE COLORS:

THIS PAST YEAR HAVE YOU:

Kissed anyone on your friend’s list → Did I have to be sober for this? If not, I told you I am quite liberal with my love.

TRUTH:

FIRSTS :

First vacation → First one I remember, is at my grandparent’s place. Beautiful farm. Many more animal stories there

First crush → Pretty girl, two rows right of me in 3rd standard. Still wonder where you are sometimes. Studious girl, sitting beside her, Go to hell. I got many whipping because of your good marks.

First alcohol drink → Cough syrup.

RIGHT NOW:

YOUR FUTURE :

WHICH IS BETTER WITH THE SEX OF YOUR CHOOSING?
I choose females. Just so that you don’t confuse my answers, you buggers.

HAVE YOU EVER :

DO YOU BELIEVE IN:

Yourself → Sometimes

ANSWER TRUTHFULLY:

In part, he was thankful. He no longer spent his nights half awake, almost expecting something to go wrong. He could take a stroll in the park without looking over his shoulder, to check whether he was being followed. He was a normal person now, working in a company, well, if you could call the Foreign Office a company, in a safe 9-to-5 job. Every piece of paper that went by his desk wasn’t a confidential document to be guarded with his life.

True, he missed his old life, where he could be anybody he wanted – hell, he was required to be somebody else in every assignment.

But he didn’t miss the killing or the people he killed. He definitely didn’t miss his colleagues turning up dead in different parts of the world, in course of their duty. He had become numb to such things, and he was worried about that. But now he was relieved; he didn’t have to carry on the charade anymore.

The best part about his new life was he could have a normal relationship now. He was tired of being alone. He had had met a lot women during his career, a brilliant career, he might add. But he wanted to stop now, and settle down, have kids, maybe and live a mundane life, where the high-point of his day would be not missing the tube to office.

~

He had found somebody, not as pretty and sassy as Moneypenny, of course. She looked cherubic, a little reserved even, and she had a boring desk job as well in the drab building where he had been working for a year. It was almost a textbook romance, out of the pages of a Victorian era novel. They would grab lunch together at the cafe down the road from Whitehall, and they were growing to like each other.

Rita was a diplomat’s daughter, and had aced through the Civil Services exam, but had chosen to take advantage of the inherent sexism in the Civil Services and let her career go slowly. She had been around the world, and found that it didn’t hold that charm for her, as it did for her father, and her ambitious colleagues. She would always take up that job to stay at homebase that nobody wanted in the Foreign Office. In some sense, she was an anomaly there, and James liked that – he would always wonder whether she was rebelling against the system by confounding it, but he never asked. He didn’t want to know. He liked her as she was..

And the wonderful part was, he could tell her his stories, the stuff he had seen. Everybody knew he was in the Navy, but they didn’t know he was a special officer in the MI6. Apparently, that was a state secret as well. Sigh.

But he would tell her his stories nonetheless, and she would never believe him. He would tell her such horrifying stories about the places she had been to, when she was a child. She would just giggle at his stories, and would always coquettishly chide him for making up stories, that she thought he was doing. And he would vehemently protest they were true. He loved making her laugh. He imagined he was bringing a bit of excitement in her life, with his supposedly make-believe stories.

Ah, anyway, good she doesn’t believe them, he would think. She wouldn’t repeat them to anyone. He smiled. Perfect.

~

Today was a glorious day. He was going to propose to her. He loved her. He sat up all night sipping his martinis and chugging on his store of Cubans, and gave it a good thought. Yes, he definitely loved her.

He had bought a massive diamond ring from Goldsmiths, which he was going to tell her was a family heirloom. (He had had quite a bit put away from his stint at MI6.) He didn’t want her to believe in his stories just yet. And he was going to do it in the cafe. And then they could tell their grandkids about this. When did he become this corny?

He couldn’t wait till lunch time.

~

When he reached office, he sensed something was out of place. He walked into his office, to find his old colleagues waiting for him there. Alice, his secretary, had tried to ply some explanations, but he waved them away.

He got in and locked the door, and sat down on his chair, and waited for them to explain their intrusion.

Michael, or that’s what James thought his name was, spoke up.

“The summer is coming out nicely, huh, Jimmy?”

James smirked. “Is this part of the retirement benefits now? A daily weather report from MI6?”

“C sent us here.”

James looked at them questioningly.

Dick, again, James wasn’t sure that was his name, asked non-chalantly, “You haven’t been telling about our operations to anybody, have you?”

That knocked out the wind of his lungs, though James didn’t show it. The only person he told was Rita… but she didn’t believe me….

“No.”

“Well, that’s not what we have been hearing.”

James stood up: “What? Are you watching me now?”

“C has asked you to come with us to MI6 HQ…”

James: “I don’t believe this.”

“Don’t you think it’s a bit strange that a civil servant in the Foreign Office, would actively avoid foreign assignments?”

“What are you getting at?”

“Jimmy boy, that girl, Rita, you were going to propose to today.”

“Yeah..?”

“She turned up dead last night in Soho. Clean kill. Couple of shots through the head.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“We had our suspicions she was working with the FSB. We were alarmed when our man there found accurate ops reports on sector W passing through his desk, and brought it to our attention. We thought we’d use you two to our advantage, and we changed all protocols in all stations with immediate effect, and it seemed to be working. The Russians couldn’t figure out what was going on. So we didn’t do anything to stop you or her.”

Richard butted in, “Apparently she stopped giving them information a couple of weeks ago. Apparently she wanted to resign and settle down. FSB thought she was defecting and, the stale information she was giving them didn’t help her case either. They set up an ambush for her last night…”

“We couldn’t have warned you, James; we got to know only last night…”

James put up his hand. He didn’t want to hear anymore. He sat down, and cried; cried, like a baby, for the first time in 15 years.

So I went online and, lo and behold, (and for this reason I love London: you can find anything in this city) I found this guided walk on Gandhi, where we would be taken to places where he stayed, met people, ate, studied etc. But when I bounced this idea off my chums, they were showing as much interest as a pigeon would show to a statue. (If you know what I mean. My mom doesn’t – she thinks pigeons are very interested in statues.)

Alright, scratch that idea, I said, and I went back online to see what else we could do. That’s when I struck upon the mother-lode of all guided walks: Spies and Spycatchers of London.

The guide would take us through the poshest parts of London, to show us such places where you couldn’t enter unless you were the head of your country/state. Mere ambassadors would be been sneered upon, and billionaires would have been shown the way to the Crystal Club¹ down the road. Some shops on the streets we passed required you to show proof of income beyond a million dollars to just open the door for you. Okay I just made up that last bit.

You get what I mean, right? Really posh stuff. We even got to see the Sultan of Brunei’s apartment (from the outside, of course).² That kind of posh.

And all this while, the guide, who looked old enough to have lived through both the wars, was spouting true stories of intrigue on the Cambridge Five, MI56, CIA, gentlemen’s clubs and suchlike niceties in the world of espionage, with liberal doses of humour. (I don’t think I should bore you with such details anyway. You can go and mosey around on Wikipedia if you want to know any more stuff. Besides, the most interesting stuff that came up during the tour, apart from all the spy stories, was the story of the woman, who was, to put it politely, a bit on the healthy side, who was determined to get a photo of her on the famous Churchill and Roosevelt bench on Bond Street. Needless to say, after she managed to insert a significant bit of herself in between the two helpless gentleman, she found their company hard to leave, and a fire brigade had to be called to extricate her.)

And we were enjoying ourselves to say the least. The walk was about a mile and 3/4s long, and we hadn’t cranked our creaky joints like this for weeks. And the weather was brilliant. And I got to wear my Ray-Bans, without being laughed at. Such joy.

We even got to see the Itsu where the Russian poisoned another Russian to get back at yet another Russian on behalf of a whole lot of Russians, if you know what I mean. I am not supposed to talk about this actually, just in case, all these Russians get together put a whole salt-shaker full of Polonium Chloride, and give my wasabi a radioactive twist. I mean more than what is necessary ³

Moral of the story: That particular walk is totally worth the 7 GBP that Alan, the guide, will charge you. Just make sure the weather is good.

And if all this wasn’t enough, I even got a quiz question out of the day. Alan Turing, of the Turing test fame, worked at Bletchley Park, where all the code-breakers got together during WW2 to break the German naval codes. During the time, he succeeded in breaking the Enigma and became a hero among the small community he was known in.

Alas, his fame was shortlived, when they discovered he was gay. He was sidelined, branded a “security risk”, and was denied all recognition that was rightfully his.

Turing moved in with his mother after his government flat was taken away, and soon went into manic depression. One day, unable to take it any longer, he laced his food with cyanide, took a bite out of it and killed himself.

Years later, a well-known company immortalised this incident in their logo. Name the company. (Please submit your answers in the comments.)

¹Apparently an exclusive night-club, where even Hollywood stars are denied entry at times. Paris Hilton puts in an appearance sometimes, I have been told. ^{^^}

² There aren’t really any bungalows/independent houses in what is known as ‘proper’ London. The default kind of house you will find is an apartment, unless you count the Buckingham Palace as a house (which it is not, since the Queen’s “proper home” is the Windsor Castle, so the Buckingham Palace is really an office block.)

Although apartments can take on ridiculous dimensions unseen elsewhere in world in the said category. For example, the Sultan of Brunei’s London “apartment” was a mere 4 floors high above ground, and unknown number of floors deep below ground, with almost each room to it’s separate floor, and each floor two-three times as big as my apartment in London. So technically, the Buckingham Palace is just an apartment, with fancily dressed guards.^{^^}

³Apparently after the Litvinenko incident, Itsu had shut down that outlet, and took a long time reopening the Piccadilly outlet where it had happened. Some of their major arguments against the reopening were: “It would be damn ironical, if people die at a place whose motto is health and happiness.” (I am not joking here.) They eventually opened 9 months later, and the crowds just kept on coming. Apparently they didn’t want to miss the next show.^{^^}

Dad bought darling beta a domain name on the web: Narnia.mobi.^*

The son was a huge fan of the Narnia books and movies, and instead of being the run-of-the-mill dad, buying action figures, or quilts, or suchlike things, he decided he would notch up a few points on the cool-dad scale, and buy him a domain for the mobile version of the Narnia site.

Enter villain: The Estate of C. S. Lewis, who controls the rights to the intellectual property of Narnia. And like all villains in movies are wont to do, they did the stupidest thing possible: Sue the father.

The father claims that he is legally permitted to own the domain since there is some sort of window that is given to all owners of trademarks to book sites that would be pertinent to their trademark, and somehow the Estate of C.S. Lewis overlooked this one. Now since the domain name was bought after the window was closed, the father claims that he is legally in the right.

And obviously he would fight to keep it, seeing how difficult it is to get just the right domain name, unless you are looking for something nonsensical like, ummmm, Yahoo or Google . (put links)

Whatever; I am not going to argue about who is right.

But look at this: however the situation ends, whether the creative father or the lumbering C. S. Lewis Estate wins, the C. S. Lewis is going to get oodles of bad press, especially in the target market it’s trying to sell its merchandise, for example, young boys like the darling beta in this story.

Instead, what they should have done, to become heroes in this story, is to have gone and told the father and son that: “Look, we know you are huge fans, otherwise you wouldn’t have bought the domain. But let us make the site that goes on the domain in the Narnia fashion, or at the very least, do let us link up your site with our main site, and let us sell cute little Lion, Cupboard and Witch dolls on your site. Hell, you can even keep 10% of the revenues we make on your site.

That, my dear friends, is an offer, you can’t refuse.

And, this is not because there aren’t any clever guys who are advising the C. S. Lewis Estate. Mind you, they are too clever by half. It’s those lawyers who know that litigation will rake in more money than their hefty retainers, who said, let’s sue their puny little mobile domain asses.

Incentives, I tell you, make the world go round.

~

Any consulting company who still wants to hire me, can do so. Surprisingly for the amount of brain power I come with (I am selling myself here:P), I am willing to be paid salaries you pay your analysts.

I may not be that cheap much longer, if I keep coming up with such award-winning cost-cutting ideas. (”Fire them bloody lawyers!”)

Oh, and here is my resume.

^* Interestingly WHOIS, a tool which tells you who owns the domain, shows that C. S. Lewis estate owns the domain now. Must have been quite the letdown for the poor boy. ^^

[youtube=http://in.youtube.com/watch?v=0dclvUitir4]
Annual fireworks at New Year’s in London

Most people would be happy to see 2008 go by. But even in a year that deserves to be called annus horribilis, there were some things from the past year, that still brings a smile to one’s face.

One of those was the first Diwali, co-incidentally the new year in the Hindu calendar, we had in London. Here is the list of things we did in random order to mark Diwali in London:

1. Went to Trafalgar Square to see London get together for the thoroughly Indian occasion, that is Diwali. Made mental note of not to do that again. Reasons include:
   • having to watch fat aunties dancing on stage to ancient/local Ballywood music, half-scared that the stage might collapse, leading to a catastrophic avalanche of aunties into the crowd.
   • having to watch n falana renowned gurus of Indian Jazz dance (WTH is Indian Jazz?) perform the Mexican wave with 30 kids on stage, call that amazing stuff, and make the kids clap for themselves.
   • Bloody desis, who act normal when caught one at a time, but when in congregation of 10,000 upwards (not joking), become extremely messy, noisy, exuberant, and prone to doing the bhangra even when you don’t have standing space, causing extreme discomfort to other people. Also, prone to trample upon people to get in front of TV camera. (Extreme right-wingers, please to be noting, Diwali at Trafalgar is a very soft-target for you. Go for it next time)
   • No fireworks.
   • No mithai
   • Prams, with steel bumpers. Which parents insist on taking right into the middle of the crowd, while carrying the babies for whom they are intended. Of whom you are not aware of, until the said vehicle takes a good portion of your shin/calf with it.
   • Shitty music, crappy compere, sound system a la merde, scheiss programme. There, that should be clear enough to most people in the world.
2. Went to the Diwali Party at a prominent business school. Note to self: Free drinks are not always a good thing, when combined with free food. Especially, when you are the sober one, and have to take glares from cleaning staff all the way home.

   Must not act surprised when people call you bhaiyya, and curse under your breath. Even when said people are good-looking women. I am that old now.

3. Went to the Neasden temple and back on Sunday. Prudent decision to not attempt it on Diwali itself. Mental note to self, to check where places actually are on Google Maps, before rushing out to go there and getting lost and walking upto 3 miles to get there. Also, whack those idiots who had been showing off their Google Maps/GPS features on their mobile phones.

   Also, either have lunch, or not take whining, starving friends to tag along, unless you have cotton to stuff in your ears.

   Should definitely not take junta who are obsessed with the answer to the Life, Universe and Everything. Atleast not to a temple. Unless you are bored enough to watch a priest and said junta spar on the theological truths of existence.

   Should definitely take note of Anwar’s, a delightful homely Pakistani restaurant near Warren St. Tube station, and thank Ali (the guy who runs the show) personally, with a discreet tenner, for saving my tummy from self-digesting itself in intestinal acid, and shutting up my whining friends. Still dreams about the lovely 6-quid all-day all-you-can-eat buffet.(Suggestion: if you ever pop in there, do take a cup of masala chai)

4. Went to Southall. The home to the pukka desh da puttar in London. Mental note to self: Stop acting surprised, when you see Sardars walking around with swords longer than your leg, Punjabi only-signs or a Mahindra tractor with a huge load of sugarcane in Southall. Must put idea in somebody’s head that Southall must be the new capital of Punjab (tee hee). Must take English-Punjabi dictionary.

   Not ask junta in these parts for directions on the bus, just when they are about to get out. Said junta will stop back for you, make you memorise the latitude, longitude coordinates of where you want to go, with precise directions (like It’s either the 3rd or the 5th turn, beta, I am sure of that. Or it could be straight ahead. ), get off 2 bus stops from where they are supposed to get off from, and make you feel horrible as hell for making them miss their stop.

   Taste mithai before buying them. Yes, mithai can be horrible, sugar doesn’t cover everything. Also, not to be buying sweets from chap who looks blank when we ask for stuff like boondi de laddu. Also, not to be buying more than 5 kgs of sweets at a time.

   Encourage friends enthusiastic for fireworks to just watch them, and steer them away from shops where they were selling local replicas of Stinger missiles. Information to general public: You need a license to burst crackers in London. Just so that you aren’t saddled with firecrackers going for at a 70% discount which you can’t burst. Should try whacking people as a good tool to encourage and making them understand, and justify with an ominous laaton ke bhoot baaton se nahi samajhtein.

   And last but not the least, take your umbrella always, in London. Or else, you could be cursing a very very enjoyable White Diwali. That’s right It snowed that day. And God saw it was good.

But I went to London to work, didn’t I? So if I am back home, I should be on holiday right?

Let’s get something straight. I graduated in March, after which I joined late July at my company (well-known ex-bank) and was thrown out a mere 3 months later, during which I was prepared, wound up, geared ready for the my job.

Which, if I haven’t made it already abundantly clear, was never told to me. Or another 149 of us who were waiting for summons.

~

So I got tired of this waiting and watching, and more waiting and watching, and I decided to take a vacation from this enforced vacation. Which, some of you would know, is not really a vacation, because this vacation is all about how to get out of the first vacation mentioned thereof.

Moral of the story: I am not on holiday. I am looking for a job. (Which again is a full-time job in itself. Aargh. How do I get caught in these recursive loops? Maybe it’s something to do with me being a computer engineer.)

~

Anyway, now that I am home, I think to myself, let’s make the best of it: Let’s dust up my poor-neglected and bit-cobwebby blog, and become a world-class Twitterer, in the free time I have, apart from, of course, sharpening my waiting-to-be-used bleeding edge financial acumen.

I have promised many people (and a dish) a post, and I intend to make good my promises in this long season of hibernation.

I shall also be posting regularly about my job hunt efforts, taking inspiration from this guy. Who knows, maybe I’ll get a job this way too!

If anybody is interested in giving me a job, have a look at my LinkedIn profile.