Fast Times

Up and down, the rollercoaster goes ...

My family doesn't seem to do quiet. Or simple. Or straightforward.

As our trip to New Zealand gets nearer, so the tempo seems to increase and the time available to get things done decreases. Our checklist has become a checklist of other checklists:

Airport transfers - here, there and everywhere. Are they too expensive in Hong Kong dollars? Pounds Sterling? New Zealand Pesetas?

Suitcases - big enough? Not too big for this airline? Not too shabby and unfashionable? Forget that - will they survive the baggage handlers bouncing them off the runway or using them as skateboards down the luggage carousels?

Currency - how much is enough? How do I get the best exchange rate? How do I avoid getting ripped off? Why does NZ money look like it's from the Monopoly boardgame?

Children - how do we keep them entertained for 28 hours of flight? How do we stay sane for 28 hours of flight? How much sedation are we allowed to administer before we get arrested for child cruelty?

More recently, my concern has been about swine flu. It seems there is little or nothing we can do to avoid it now. I don't know how I can avoid exposure to it when there have already been cases at the kids school, both have had a temperature and flu-like symptoms in the past week, my wife is now showing the same symptoms, and I'm on the train twice a day with people coughing and sneezing.

Of course the governments and airlines have all reacted with varying degrees of swiftness and competency, ranging from the fatalistic to the downright paranoid and anal. The last thing I need is for one of us to have a sniffle or a cough during our trip, and ending up being quarantined somewhere for days on end.

With only 11 days before we fly out, the clock is ticking and the nerves are jangling.

TKO in the 3rd round

After a long and arduous journey, I finally won the battle for my new contract which started today. See my previous blog for the tedious details, but I'm calling it a TKO in the 3rd round!

For my wife Pip and I, today marks a new chapter in our lives with the most certainty we've had for several years. We can plan ahead for the rest of the year now that my work is guaranteed until April 2010.

First up on the wish list is a trip to New Zealand for 4 weeks in August. We last visited in 2005 and the kids (now 7 & 5) will be able to enjoy it far more. They will get to see both sets of cousins (one lot visiting from France & one lot resident in Auckland), as well as one set of much-missed grandparents.

We are also planning to get into camping in the UK, although we will need to get a roofrack and roofbox added to our little Honda Civic first, since the budget for a new family car is now going on the NZ trip. With a warm summer predicted, we will hopefully be able to make the most of it before subjecting ourselves to a NZ winter for 4 weeks.

Other than that, some more small home improvements are required but the major work is now completed. Despite the doom and gloom in the economy and the world at large, we are very lucky to find ourselves in a safe haven for the timebeing, and able to think big thoughts about where we are in life and what we want out of it.

It feels like it has been a very, very long time since we've been able to do that .... and it feels good.

A craze for Maze

I started this blog on my birthday back in February, and on Friday night I got to finally enjoy a belated birthday present from my wife - dinner at Maze restaurant in Grosvenor Square, Mayfair.

We took the opportunity to make a really decadent night of it - the kids were packed off for a sleepover at their Aunty's house, while we arranged pre-dinner drinks with friends and booked a 5 star hotel (cheaply!) on lastminute.com. We were most definitely having a night out!


Braving the torrential April showers on the way, we enjoyed some quality cocktails and 80s tunes at Mahiki with friends, something we haven't done in quite a while.

The cocktails at Mahiki

We had to wrench ourselves away from what was obviously going to be a good night out, for what would prove to be an even better one at Maze.

The restaurant is in Grosvenor Square in the heart of Mayfair, and from the minute we walked in we were given top class service from a thoroughly competent and professional team.

We enjoyed a Gin Martini each, then with guidance from our knowledgeable and cheerful waitress I chose the 7 course tasting menu, while my wife opted for 4 dishes from the a la carte menu. Before you consider us complete and utter gluttons, a word of explanation: Maze is a "tasting" restaurant which means that all the portions are small yet perfectly formed.*

*Just like my ears, as I was reliably informed last month by a German artist in a pub in Herne Hill. Do you honestly think I could make up a detail like that?


Our Sommelier, Jacques, helped us select "Flights" of wine to accompany our meal. If you don't know what that means (we didn't!), a "Flight" of wine is 3 x 125ml glasses selected to match your food. We decided that this was the most appropriate strategy, since we were having such a variety of food.


Jacques international background* and polished training, combined with his broad knowledge and open-minded approach to selecting the wines, meant that we tried several wine varieties that we would never have considered ourselves.

*He told us he has a French father & South African mother, to which my wife blurted out (much to her own amusement) "You must be confused!"


We then learnt that Jacques had been due to travel to New Zealand at the end of the year, to work at a South Otago winemaker. Unfortunately the business had recently suffered badly from the global downturn, and his trip had been cancelled even though he had just received his work visa. Through our own network of contacts, we're hoping we might be able to help him find another job in the NZ wine industry - I have his email address, so if anyone thinks they can help please get in touch!


Anyway, back to the dinner. To avoid turning this into foodie porn, I won't go into the exact detail (just have a look at the Maze website for the full descriptions). Suffice it to say that we were suitably astonished, delighted and thoroughly satisfied by the food and wine that we were served.


After the meal, I was even given a delicious portion of chocolate cake with a candle for my birthday to round the evening off, courtesy of our ever attentive waitress . Shortly afterwards as we wandered back to our hotel, we realised that we had been there for 4 hours!


I can thoroughly recommend Maze to anyone looking for a top class restaurant or a culinary adventure. It manages to deliver fantastic wine, food and service without being snobby or pretentious.


Now, I just have to convince my wife to take me to Maze Grill for my next birthday ...

In a venue far, far away ...

Obi-Wan Kenobi meets his nemesis: a heavy-breathing, failed student dressed in black

It was always going to be a struggle to choose a title for this post that wasn't straight out of Star Wars, so I've applied my usual standard of determination and given in immediately.

On Good Friday, a month of waiting was over for my 7 year-old son Duncan as I took him to the O2 Arena for his main birthday present: Star Wars - A Musical Journey. My wife would argue that I was equally excited, which is preposterous. I was definitely more excited.

This event was a celebration of John Williams music for the Star Wars films, accompanied by film excerpts and narration by one of the original actors.

Actually Duncan was almost as excited just getting there. Our journey was a long and tricky one, thanks to engineering works that ruled out going by train. Instead, we drove into London and were able to park very near Waterloo Pier, for our boat trip to the O2 Arena at Greenwich.

First though, there was time for a walk around a farmers market where Duncan had the world's largest hotdog (followed by an ice cream of course), and a few coins for the musical statues entertaining the tourists by the London Eye.

Then it was time for the boat trip on the O2 Express, run by Thames Clippers. This is a direct service from Waterloo Millenium Pier to the O2 Arena, which takes approximately 25-30 minutes. Duncan was literally bouncing up and down with excitement, and we enjoyed the sights as we cruised down the Thames. After we cleared the last of the bridges, the boat (a high-speed catamaran) was able to get up to full cruising speed, which got interesting as a few swells got us pitching up and down quite heavily.

All of a sudden it was there - the O2 Arena appeared as we rounded a bend in the river, all lit up and displaying the Star Wars title on flashing billboards. Within minutes we had docked, and we walked up the ramp towards the venue.

Immediately we knew we were amongst some truly dedicated Star Wars fans. Apart from the thousands of kids wearing the off-the-shelf Star Wars outfits, there were mainly 30-40 year old men (and some women) milling around dressed as their favourite Star Wars characters*.

*These are tailored and often expensive - apparently a deluxe Stormtrooper outfit will set you back £1800!

The most dedicated of these fans hire themselves out to appear at events just like this one. Squads of Stormtroopers and Jedi Knights with glowing lightsabres posed for photos, while Darth Vader and R2-D2 also mingled in the crowd. Duncan was too scared to pose with any of them, except for R2-D2. In his mind, these characters were all very real - so to have a 6 foot Storm Trooper looming over you is actually quite a scary experience. Especially when they sound like them too with "Com-Link" sound effects through their helmets!

We raced through the exhibition of props and costumes from the films, as Duncan desperately wanted to get to our seats. We paused only to buy the programme and a mini-light sabre as we found our way to the upper tier, to the left of the main stage.

The seating is steep and compact, which offers clear views but is somewhat precarious when getting past other people to your seats. Doubly so, when you find your path blocked by a gentleman and his lady friend whom I can only describe as very generously proportioned. We did our best impressions of tight-rope walkers as we teetered between a wall of rounded flesh straining under "Jedi vs Sith" T-shirts, and a steep plunge onto the Arena floor.

The show began 15 minutes late - finally silencing Duncan's impatient demands for the show to start. Massive curtains separated to floor and ceiling revealing the Royal Philarmonic Orchestra as they launched into the main Star Wars theme, while the main title sequence was displayed on an enormous 100 foot video wall behind them.

The sound quality and acoustics were superb, and the crowd absolutely loved it. Anthony Daniels (who played C3-PO in all 6 Star Wars films) took to the stage as narrator, and provided the necessary links between the musical pieces.

Star Wars fans are sharply divided on the merits of Episodes 1-3 (the prequel trilogy), which came out between 1999-2005. It has the same ingredients as the original trilogy (Episodes 4-6, released 1977-1983) such as awesome special effects, a basic theme of good vs evil and execrably wooden dialogue.

However the original trilogy benefited from excellent direction and astute casting, that exceeded the sum of its parts. Despite the presence of good actors like Ewan McGregor and Natalie Portman in the prequel trilogy, these failed to capture the public imagination in the same way.

Primarily this was because it was a vanity project for George Lucas. Despite him claiming to give the fans what they wanted, he chose to direct all 3 films himself and the special effects dominated nearly every scene. It must have been near impossible for the actors to provide any depth or meaning, when they were acting against blue screens with imaginary characters or props.

Anyway, I digress - back to the show. Anthony Daniels did his best to give the prequel trilogy some importance as various themes were explored, but it was only after the 30 minute intermission (wayyyyyy too long) that things really got going as the original trilogy came to life again.

Huge cheers erupted as the original heroes were mentioned in turn by Daniels, and some of the best music was then played out to the most exciting film excerpts. Lasers flickered across the arena in time to the music as the show built to its climax. The music from the final scene of Episode 4 (where the heroes are awarded medals by Princess Leia) concluded the show to rapturous applause.

Duncan was exhausted both from the excitement of the whole day (not to mention being awake hours past his usual bedtime), so as we made our way home he fell asleep in the car. Once we were home I carried him up to bed (no easy task, he's a big lad!) . As I tucked him in, he opened one eyelid slightly and mumbled: "Thank you for the best birthday present ever ..."

Even Darth Vader's bottom lip would have wobbled at that.

Never mind the Bankers

By previous standards, yesterday's G20 protest/riot (delete as applicable) was a pale shadow of the riots of yesteryear.

Despite the best efforts of a hard core that laid waste to the Threadneedle St office of RBS (mainly owned by us tax-payers now, so that's a fantastic own goal there fellas), and the tragic death of one protestor who was within the police cordon (apparently from natural causes), this was largely a noisy but peaceful affair.

Various descriptions abounded on the digital media outlets:

".. the atmosphere seems that of a slightly aggressive folk festival .."

".. looking out my window, it appears that the hair-dye ratio in Bishopsgate has just increased .."

The composition of the crowd at Bank seemed to be equal parts protestor, curious on-looker and media. Indeed the smashing of the windows at the RBS office shows just a handful of rioters enacting the damage, while a semi-circle of media filmed it from every possible angle.

Twitterers from every major media outlet circulated in the crowd providing real-time updates, while for every upraised fist of a chanting protestor there were 2 or 3 more holding up a mobile phone or digital camera.

For me, the 21st century British version of public protest and our attitude to it was caught neatly in microcosm yesterday when Russell Brand, the famous sex addict and abusive phone-caller, emerged through the crowd next to me.

Here we were in the midst of a major public demonstration about the economy and our livelihoods when up strolls this B-list celebrity, brimming with self-importance. Immediately a scrum of about 100 people (media and onlookers) formed around him as he made his way towards the main crowd gathered outside the Bank of England.

His progress was stop-start, as he paused for photos with young women who flocked around him, before he veered off for a bizarre interlude in an Austin Reed store. He re-appeared shortly after, soaking up the attention before disappearing from my view.

Afterwards I read that he had come "to learn" and that he found the whole thing "beautiful". I think this was the perfect illustration of the 21st Century cult of celebrity, where their talent is secondary to their ability to sell media coverage, no matter how vacuous or shallow the utterings of that "celeb" is. An illustration thrown sharply into relief against the backdrop of the biggest economic crisis for decades.

Getting back onto topic, the scale of the protest was far lower than expected given the scale of the crisis that we are facing. The serious message of the majority of protestors was made into a farce by a small group of idiots attacking an institution now owned by the taxpayers. Although being anarchists, surely they are above taxation or any other form of representative government themselves, right?

It was also slightly comical to see how many of us had "dressed down" following company advice in a clearly visible City worker dressed down uniform - blue jeans, polo shirts etc. With some of the protestors dressing up in pinstripe suits and bowler hats too, we'd reached the completely surreal situation of the (nominally) opposing groups attempting to dress like each other (and failing utterly)!

To paraphrase those anarchist cheerleaders The Sex Pistols: Never mind the Bankers*.

*If you can ignore the hypocrisy of the capitalist rewards being so transparently enjoyed by their frontman Johnny Rotten in the last few years :-)

Out for a Duck (Tour)

The occasion of celebrating my son's 7th birthday, some sunny spring weather, and the desire to escape from painting and decorating for a day led to us embarking on a most unusual tour around central London.

We had booked a trip on London Ducktours, which uses a fleet of six WW2 era amphibious vehicles, for a tour around central London landmarks that ends with a half-hour cruise up and down part of the River Thames. The amphibious vehicles are known as "Ducks" from their military acronym "DUKW". An American invention, over 22,000 "Ducks" were built during World War 2 and the "boat" we were on took part in the D-Day invasion on 6th June 1944*.

* One of the passengers on our trip provided a double-whammy of trivia: her father had driven a Duck during D-Day, and he was also the first ever baby born by Caesarian section at St George's hospital in Tooting. An unusual combination of facts certainly, but this blog is no prisoner to protocol!

The Duck Tour was actually just the middle part of our day which had started at 5.43am when my chronically overexcited son awoke and thundered down the stairs to let us know that he was now 7 years old.

After unwrapping presents and much excitement for the kids, we began preparations for our day which included my wife starting to roast chicken at 6.30am and both of us drinking gallons of coffee to stay awake.

By 10am we were assembled at Epsom station to meet 4 of my son's friends who were coming on the Duck Tour with us. My wife and I were soon wondering about the folly of our venture as the noise levels approached that of a Concorde flying through an underpass. There appears to be a point at which a group of 6-7 year olds reaches critical mass, resulting in parental meltdown.

The train journey itself seemed to be exciting enough for them, so their day could only get better. Which it soon did, as we reached the "Ducks" parking up spot in Chicheley St behind Jubilee Gardens and the London Eye.

We'd arrived in plenty of time for our midday trip, so after half an hour of letting the kids burn off some excess energy in the park we joined the queue to board our Duck and begin the adventure. We set off into the London traffic and soon became a tourist attraction in our own right. Our guide had us laughing and enjoying the sites as he provided a terrific blend of information and bad jokes.

We took in most of the usual sights around Westminster, went as far as the Ritz & Green Park, then back down to Vauxhall where the highlight of the trip awaited us.

We pulled in right next door to the famous MI6 building, where the Duck was prepared for its watery excursion. Some minor adjustments were made to the vehicle, then our driver Steve was replaced by "Waterman" Mark. No build-up was required to heighten the excitement as Mark drove the Duck over the edge of the ramp and we accelerated down into the river with a suitably dramatic splash.

Sitting at the back of the vehicle with our party, we had a lot of engine noise with the propellor screws churning underneath us and the water swirling about halfway up the back door (the Duck has a fairly tail-heavy profile) but the experience was fantastic. My son was beaming from ear to ear, and his mates were all shouting and pointing and loving every minute.

We pootled up the river to the Houses of Parliament, then performed a U-turn and struggled back against the outgoing tide. We emerged from the river at the same spot next to the MI6 building and returned to Chiveley St, where we disembarked from our remarkable tour vehicle.

In desperate need of refuelling, we adjourned to a nearby Pizza Express and fed and watered the troops. After that, a short runaround in Jubilee Gardens was followed by the return train journey to Epsom where waiting Mums picked up my son's friends, and we made our way home.

We were all absolutely worn out, but it had been a really special day built around the unforgettable journey on the Duck. It was an experience that we can thorougly recommend to anyone, no matter what age or how cool they are! It's a great way to see the tourist sites, and to be a tourist attraction yourself along the way.

Living in Limbo

For anyone who read my previous blog, I'm still sitting in the corner waiting for the bell to begin round 3!

For those who haven't read it .. then please read it and come right back, I'm not going anywhere.

In fact, that is pretty much my predicament - I don't seem to be going anywhere in a hurry right now. My job is in limbo while the powers that be decide my fate. It's a bit of an ordeal I suppose, but life goes on and the world still turns.

I've got a hot date with a paintbrush every night this week, as we continue to redecorate the house. With new flooring due in soon, there is an added sense of urgency to get it done. My wife is continuing to astound me with her application and dedication to the task, very much the Yin to my Yang ... and that's not a euphemism, gutter-dwellers.

A lot of people spend their hard-earned cash on nights out getting boozed and dancing in nightclubs, but I suggest there is a new way: stay home and decorate, get dizzy on paint fumes while listening to the radio! No need for a cab home afterwards either.

While I'm in this limbo waiting for my job to be sorted out one way or the other, I can't really plan anything. My wife and I are desperate for a family holiday somewhere, but we just can't do anything until we know whether I'm unemployed or secure for another few months. It's a predicament that sadly too many people are suffering right now, as the clouds gather over the economy and doom-mongers fill the media with their foreboding.

My answer to this is ... cricket.

Yes - that relatively gentle sport recently dragged into the crosshairs of terrorists in Pakistan, but still ultimately in my opinion a sport that is good for the soul. At the moment it is only net practices once a week until the season starts at the end of April, but already it has lifted me and given me a nice thrill of anticipation.

Cricket is undoubtedly an English sport in spirit (and in its archaic rules), yet people from all of the cricket-playing nations bring their own interpretation and approach. Everything about this diversity makes cricket a broadening and uplifting experience. From West Indian exuberance, Australian bravado, and Indian silky skills to Kiwi dibbly-dobbliness, it all makes for a fascinating mix and some very interesting contests.

My own local cricket team is primarily composed of Englishmen, with a smattering of Kiwi ingenuity and sub-continental wizardry. Our matches are all friendlies, usually 40 overs or "timed", depending on the preference of the opposition. Match days often bring a loyal following of friends and family, who provide invaluable moral support as well as organising the afternoon tea and drinks (for home games).

The atmosphere at these matches is always jovial, with a constant background noise of banter and bad puns. Combined with the edginess of a sporting contest at its heart, it is an enriching experience for everyone involved.

While the season is yet to start, the very anticipation of it starting soon is enough to banish the gloomy clouds about the world at large from my mind.

Even here in limbo.

The Wrestler .. not starring Mickey Rourke (or his dog)

There are days when you feel in control - you are the one deciding your destiny.

Then there are days like today, where I am in the hands of fate - subject to factors beyond my control.

Today (hopefully) I should find out whether I still have a job or not beyond 31st March. As an IT contractor this is not an uncommon situation to be in, however the current economic climate has hit the Financial IT contract market very hard, so the chances of finding another job are low ... making the stakes higher than ever.

It's complicated, so I'm going to use the totally unrelated metaphor of a Wrestling match to try and explain my situation:

- The wrestling match is the "Keeping Doug in a Job" tag-team title fight. I currently hold the Championship Belt ("The Job"), which is sponsored by my recruitment agency.

- The referee in the centre of the ring is the company I am working for.

- In my corner (as my trainer/number one supporter) is my comically Gallic line manager from Paris. My boss likes me - hell, he even thinks I am performing my role to a high standard! He wants to keep me in the role, he says.

- On my tag team is my existing recruitment agency, who would like to keep me in the role too.

- In the other corner is a supply agency that the referee secretly wants to win the match.

The bell rings for round one!

I step out of the corner to start the fight. A millisecond later I'm hit in the back of the head by a towel as my boss throws it in. "As we’ve not been able to change your contract into a contract of service due to the contract restriction with the recruitment agency, an RFP has been submitted on the market!" he shouts in support.

As I stagger sideways, he follows up: "We’ll need to take into account a hand over period which I expect as soon as possible and will require your full participation on it!" He then shouts out to the supply agency in the other corner: "Hey! Got any decent wrestlers over there?"

But there is no immediate answer - the supply agency in the other corner has just landed a low blow on the recruitment agency. "Uurrgghh! Supply agency talk next round. Supply agency busy discussing recruitment agency's exclusion clause!"

The company referee stands to one side, thoughtfully tapping away at a calculator muttering words like "headcount", "budget costs" and "merde".

I stagger back to my corner and throw the towel back at my boss. "I thought you were on my side!"

He grins sheepishly: "I’m sorry about this inconvenience it generates for you and the level of service in the UK as it has nothing to do with the level of performance you are providing which I’m very satisfied with!"

"I remain anyway at your disposal if you think about any arrangement we could find before the deadline!" he says with a collossal Gallic shrug, before scuttling away to sit behind the supply agency's corner.

The bell rings to end round one, and I collapse in my corner as my bloodied recruitment agency team-mate crawls across the canvas to join me.

"Doug, I can't win this fight. The judges have already written the script for this one, but there might be a way that you can still win it .... "

The bell rings for round 2.

My boss hoots his support for the massive supply agency, as it lunges forwards grasping for my Championship Belt.

"Hold it!" I shout, holding the Belt at arm's length.

"You know, there is a way we can all win this fight. All of us."

The lumbering supply agency stops, then snorts in confusion. It looks at the ref, who shrugs indifferently.

"You want the belt, right?" I say, holding it up. The supply agency replies sneeringly "Supply Agency get Belt anyway! Supply agency not care!"

"Now here's the deal" I begin. "In return for getting your name on the Belt and keeping me on the team, you only have to pay half the exclusion clause to my recruitment agency."

There is a shaky thumbs-up from the recruitment agency hanging onto the ropes.

"And!" I continue, "the company keeps me in the job which makes them happy too. Right boss?" I point to him as he waves to the audience.

"Oh! Mais oui! Of course - I'm right behind you Doug!" he shouts from the supply agency's corner opposite me.

The bell rings to end round 2, and as we retreat to our corners the supply agency turns back. "Urrggghh. Supply agency think hard. Supply agency make proposal to referee in round 3!"

And that, Ladies and Gentlemen, is the dramatic climax at which I stand today - poised to return to the fight in round 3.

I figure I can come out of this fight in one of two ways. Either bloodied yet unbowed, like Mickey Rourke.

Or like his dog. 'Nuff said.

A blog for my birthday

I think turning 38 has given me one of those "everyone has a novel in them" moments, where I felt it was time I tried to do something mildly creative. OK, so a blog is hardly War & Peace but we've all got to start somewhere.

My premise is a simple one - the view from the rollercoaster. I think that's a fairly succinct perspective of my life, especially over the last 10 years or so. It is an endless series of peaks and troughs, of moves and changes. This doesn't make me unique of course, arguably everybody's lives are the same too, so why write about it?

I guess I just want to try and make some sense of it, and try to inject a little bit of humour as I go along. If this entertains someone else or makes them think, then all the better.

So as I sit here at my desk, concentrating hard on not doing any work whilst partly hungover from the night before (and partly drunk from the lunchtime just gone), I look out over my little corner of London searching for inspiration.

If only something interesting would happen. Maybe one of those 200 animal rights protestors outside who are chanting slogans and shaking their fists at my window might have some suggestions. Like "How to brush your teeth with twigs" or something. Or perhaps one of the many police escorts surrounding them has a bright idea - "My top 10 truncheon-themed double-entendres", for instance.

(Sigh)It's so hard to find inspiration in this cultural desert!

In such a moment of creative crisis, I have to fall back on the only subject I know well... ME! Yup, it's all about me folks. For those who don't want to know the gory details, look away now.

I'm 38 today. How do I feel? Over-tired. Hung over. Well-fed.

More broadly speaking, I feel like I'm about to rise up from one of those troughs - the rollercoaster is definitely climbing. To paraphrase Ian Dury - here are my "Reasons to be Cheerful":

- I'm on the cusp of securing a 12 month contract renewal, which is gold dust in the current climate.
- Renovations have just been completed on my house, transforming the quality of life for me and my family.
- I'm going home to enjoy a birthday dinner with my wife and some friends, and then a family weekend playing with the kids.
- The sun has even come out today and I've seen blue sky for the first time in weeks.

The animal rights protestors have moved on now, black cabs are streaming past outside and the office is quiet as people start sloping off early for the weekend. That strikes me as a sensible idea, perhaps I should head off too. In fact, it would be rude not to.