It was a real shame to hear about the death of Lewis Collins (which has been reported in the media today). In my opinion 67 years old was way too young to go and after a five year battle with cancer too. That must have been bloody miserable for him and his family.

In his role as Bodie in the Professionals, Lewis Collins was a seventies/eighties icon and a character that, as a kid, I used to run around pretending to be.

I grew up with the professionals, have every episode on DVD and, despite the fact that I never knew the man, I am genuinely saddened to hear about his demise.   

Whilst I am sure that praises will flood in from the glitterati; I hope that Ford pays some respects because Bodie and Doyle were the best advert in the world for the Ford Capri. Even now, I’d love to own one - my cousin Stuart Phillips has a beautiful 1986 model and I bet, like me, he’ll be wishing Collins well in the afterlife.

Now that the English dictionary has been expanded to include the word selfie (meaning a picture one takes of one’s self), it seems appropriate to celebrate the occasion with such a shot (or two). 

Given that Movember is drawing to a close and there are only a couple more days to go before I can shave off my ridiculous horseshoe moustache; I have attached selfies for you to judge the results of my cultivation efforts before the hair is consigned to the bathroom sink. Another year will pass before you’ll have another chance to see such facial folly.

Am I a handsome devil or what?

All right ‘what’ gets it - I look a lot sillier than normal but hey, it’s all in a good cause.

Worse than silly though, I am looking old and that is a bit disappointing if I am honest (in fact it’s enough to make one grumpy - see yang). Even the tache is now going white at the edges. On that very matter, my youthful work colleague Harry (I am sure he’ll love the name check), who is baby faced enough not to be able to grow his own Mo (and doesn’t even need to shave every day) asked me about my five o’clock shadow – I wryly observed that these days it was better to describe it as a five o’clock frost.

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Like millions of others dotted all over the globe, I watched the 50th anniversary Doctor Who special on BBC 1 on Saturday 23rd November. I have to say that I thought it was brilliant; the generation of the war doctor (to fill in the gap left since Paul McGann), the Gallifrey story reveal, the interchanges between the three doctors (Hurt, Tennant and Smith) and the cameo appearance of Tom Baker (for he was my Who) showed some inspired script writing.

I sat on the sofa with my two children and the three of us were glued to the box from start to finish. Mrs Baldwin, if you are wondering where she was at the time, went out to eat and drink with her pals. She had a nice night but missed a treat.

Whilst admitting to the Special, I’d also like some other viewing to be taken into account.  I watched the dramatization about the creation of the first series with William Hartnell and the mini episode to introduce the Special. Both provided good entertainment.

When I came into the office this week and tried to talk Tardis with my younger (and in some cases much younger) colleagues; far from the fan club I expected to find, I was met with blank faces and indifference. None of them had watched the anniversary special.

This genuinely bothers me.

Has Doctor Who become the property of the middle aged and their children?

Damn, have I just admitted to being middle aged?

Has the generation of twenty somethings deprived of their incarnation of the Doctor (blame Michael Grade apparently) completely bypassed the appeal of the franchise?

What can I do to positively influence my colleagues’ outlooks without sounding sad, or like one of their parents?

Where in time and space is this post going?

Maybe the main question should be “Who gives a toss?”

Maybe I just need to get out more; or go and see a GP.

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As an aging head banger, in fact seasoned would be a better adjective given that the grey is taking an ever greater hold of said head - a salt and pepper thing is going on, just so you get the drift. 

Apologies for digressing by the eighth word of this post, perhaps you can tell that the revelations I will be making shortly are causing me to procrastinate. In fact the preceding sentence was yet more confession avoidance.

So without further ado, well much further ado anyway, I’ll get on with it.

I recently heard a song on the radio called “Liquid Lunch”, liked it a lot, then, as the DJ failed to mention it, did some research to find out who the artist was. It turned out that the song was by Caro Emerald and on the strength of that tune alone; I subsequently bought her CD entitled “The Shocking Miss Emerald”.

Caro Emerald is a jazz singer!

There you are; I have come clean. My DNA helixes, which contain Iron Maiden, Motorhead, Horrorcomic and Bleach Boys chromosomes, should have meant I rejected Miss Emerald without hesitation. Jazz music isn’t a well-represented genre in the Baldwin CD archives.

But hesitate (now a firm theme of this post) I did. And despite this feeling that I have betrayed my rocker roots, I am pleased I did too.

Caro Emerald sings, jazz with, depending upon the song, a nineteen twenties/thirties feel; delivered in a style that has a slight suggestion of Lily Allen.  It shouldn’t work for me but it does.

Top tunes, aside from “Liquid Lunch”, include “Pack up the Louie”, “Coming Back as a Man” and “The Maestro”.

I shared my guilty pleasure with the delightful Mrs Baldwin and it turns out she likes the CD too – in fact it’s in her car right now.  That, believe me, is an unusual turn of events – her capacity for my heavy metal and punk music is decidedly limited. 

So to wrap (not rap I hasten to add, there are still musical limits to which I won’t stretch), my horizons have been expanded; jazz has its place and that Miss Emerald really is shocking!

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I read with genuine disappointment today that Tie Rack is about to vanish from the High Street. The brand is another retail casualty and follows many other previously high profile names into obscurity.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/business-25016032

To be honest, I haven’t bought anything from the shop for years and that’s despite having a ridiculously large selection of neck ties and cufflinks. Clearly I was not alone in buying my things ‘elsewhere’ and must therefore shoulder my share of the blame for the store’s demise.

In the last knockings of the eighties as I started my working career, Tie Rack was a fresh and fun alternative to Fosters and C&A (both these stores catered for my limited budget in the days before I could afford M&S and Next). Of course Fosters and C&A are long gone too, not that I mourn the passing of those businesses!

Over the four years that retail banking occupied my working hours, and polyester was eschewed in favour of silk, buying ties in Tie Rack was a bit of a treat. The range of colours and patterns were huge and you were bound to find something that would suit.

In the noughties (AKA the Frangi times), I remember buying a gruesome pair of seventies cufflinks and then having to hunt high and low for a tie that would complement. Where the prestige brands that adorn my person these days failed, Tie Rack stepped up. A grotty picture providing evidence is even attached – check out the combination of shirt, tie cufflinks and watch! Jack Regan would have approved!

The financial/commercial noose around the neck of Tie Rack has tightened and tightened to the point where life has been squeezed out of the brand and memories and the odd photo will shortly be all that’s left. Next time I buy a tie from anywhere; I’ll feel a little guilt and be penitent!

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I had never heard of Rob Ford until today; if you haven’t come across him, he’s the mayor of Toronto (at least at this moment, he won’t be for much longer – that’s my bet).

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-us-canada-24947207

This story on the BBC today is most humorous; Rob has spectacularly crashed his career by being a complete berk, the man is clearly not fit for office.

The alleged drinking, drug abuse, consorting with prostitutes and completely inappropriate behaviour towards female employees is about normal for a politician (surely that stuff can just be viewed as the trappings of power - remind you of Bill Clinton perhaps?). Despite a rather colourful existence, what has completely, and amusingly, backfired on Rob is his obscene statement on national television that he gets all the oral sex (OS) he needs at his home with Mrs Ford. Even if it is true, you'd think a chap in the public gaze would have more sense in front of the media than to bring that topic up as a defence against alleged sexual improprieties. How would that stand up in court I wonder?

Whilst the public might give him the benefit of the doubt around alleged crack cocaine abuse, is there a wedded soul of either sex that believes Rob's marital OS claims for a moment?  Unless of course the point he is making is that he doesn’t need any – in which case he might get that much! In Rob's defence, hopefully that is the point because otherwise he's proved to the world he's an embarrassment, an incompetent liar or at best a fantasist.

The mayor must be feeling under immense pressure right now, the media is clearly gunning for him and I bet even Mrs Ford isn’t feeling charitable - she certainly looks uncomfortable stood next to him in the photo accompanying the BBC article. For an oral context, think sucking a lemon.

But before he is completely written off, some questions must be asked – there are other perspectives to be considered. Could Rob Ford be some kind of hero-figure for aging, overweight, sweaty and attractiveness-impaired men the world over?

And so with reference to the title of this post; is Rob Ford a bloke’s bloke (you know the sort of geezer every bloke would be if he was brave enough) and therefore worthy of begrudging respect? Perhaps the Canadian personification of the sex and drugs and rock'n'roll or 'living it large' lifesytle that every teenager dreams of? Maybe the epitome of the belief that it's better to burn out than to fade away!

Or is he just a complete and utter Muppet?

What do you think?

My vote, as that is how mayors are selected, is for a Jim Henson creation (and a piggy one at that)!

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Princess Anne has been widely reported in the media today about her views on the value of horse meat becoming an addition to the human food chain. Her Royal Highness' perspective is that if horse flesh had a market value, people would be more inclined to look after their animals – the slightly ironic position being that eating horse meat could actually improve the quality of life for many horses.  

You may well remember the recent furore that surrounded horse meat being discovered in supermarket processed food; how funny would it be that, if after all that fuss, horse meat did actually enter the food chain legitimately (and adequately labelled of course)?

I think Princess Anne makes a good point.  Eating horse meat is a common enough practice in many countries; it could end up being a good value for money alternative to beef or lamb in this country. The supermarkets would just need to price it appropriately and make damn sure not to pass it off as something else.

Perhaps something for the Meat & Livestock Commission to chew over?

The fast food chains could have some fun with horse meat – the Newmarket Burger with fries, the Roast Towcester, the filet o'filly or my favourite, the Big Nag.

I hear John McCririck is unemployed, maybe he could get involved in some advertising?  Well maybe not, that’s an idea that really should fall at the first.

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Today I came across a stress survey on the BBC that I decided to complete. Over the last couple of days I have found myself frustrated by traffic challenges delaying my journeys to and from work and uncharacteristically cross about Milton Keynes Council’s latest parking related decisions that mean that when I get to work, parking my car nearby has become decidedly harder. I might rant about this later – I have asked MK Council for some insight into its bizarre thinking and will write up a piece when I get a response.

In addition, I am growing this year’s Mo and have to contend with facial itchiness, an inclination to play with my tache, odd looks from my peers and Mrs B’s further reduced inclination to snog me. Then, because I am feeling a bit chubby around the middle, I am also dieting;  avoiding food (particularly Mrs B’s most excellent homemade cupcakes) is hard work.

Finally, I haven’t posted an update to my website for a while and have been feeling under pressure to get my act together.  

Today it turns out is National Stress Day and therefore the perfect time for a quick survey.

I completed the quick online survey and scored lowly, which in this context is good. Apparently I am coping reasonably well with life’s stresses and strains (see image).

What is now a source of concern to me is whether I am stressed enough? Is this result a case of coasting, being out of touch or just plain lazy? Is a score of nine a sign that I am not trying hard enough?

Have you spotted the irony - a stress test is now the cause of some anxiety; there’s an unexpected outcome!

Still at least I got a blog post out of it!

A final observation, there is evidence that stress can lead to a loss of appetite – so if I get stressed over not eating whatever I want, that will help me lose the appetite for eating whatever I want and that (in addition to not eating whatever I want because I am dieting and stressed) will mean that what I wanted to eat, I don’t want to anymore? That’s brilliant!

A link to the BBC news article is attached and clicking through will enable you to complete the survey too. Have a go, see how you get on.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/health-24756311

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