Smell the roses

Ooh, after weeks of being terribly inconsistent in my blog, today I am doing one EARLY. I'm very proud of this fact although it probably is a prelude to grinding out the most tedious blog entry of my life, or even forgetting to publish it at the end.

Anyway, the dreaded VAT inspectors are out tomorrow (actually, to be totally fair, they are very nice people) which will probably stop me from blogging then. Tonight we have a Friends of Blenheim Palace cocktail party. Don't tell the Duke - who is opening a village hall somewhere - but we might even be noisy without paying extra. 150 guests are coming to what should be a lovely evening. I may even upload some photos if I can figure out the camera on my Blackberry. Usually when I attempt to take a photo I seem to set off the Sat Nav.

The Summer trustees meeting came and went without incident but with a very nice lunch. I am delighted to say that we are trading pretty well given this dreadful economic environment and we are determined to continue to invest in our people and our visitors.

Anita (head of finance) is back after being knocked off her bike last week - good thing too given the impending arrival of VATman. Chris Keeler (our Head of Maintenance) and Clive Wilkins (Head of Construction) both slaved away for several days and passed/repassed their CITB exams - a fantastic achievement. I wonder why Roger File (Property Director) didn't volunteer to take the exams? Roger?

Actually, I quite fancy some more studies. I remember when I left the City to work in Oxford I looked with delight at all the continuing education courses available in the evenings (Cosmology to Indian Head Massage, Haute Cuisine to Tai Chi, Car Mechanic to Middle East Politics) and I quite fancied the then new Said Business School. Six years on, I have done sod-all. IT WILL CHANGE... Have to see if anyone else around here fancies something similar. Always good to have moral support. Actually the cooking one sounds really tempting; or maybe I have been watching too much Masterchef.

Perhaps this is a big part of the strain on the further education system - not just new graduates wanting to stay on but a whole bunch of relics like me wanting to get more from life, just when it looks like we might all be getting something less from life for a while. It is even possible to discern this trend in the massive increase in local visitors here and across the National Trust (yawn, no, we are not National Trust but I think there is an offer on in the NT magazine to come here cheaply - sorry, we've had that question just a few times before). We are just starting to take an interest in the things around us, wanting to get more from each day, maybe forget our daily stresses a little bit.

Fancy that haute cuisine course, anyone?

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Lost

Angry! A word that does not quite do justice to my feelings on hearing the news of the death of Lieutenant Colonel Rupert Thorneloe - Commanding Officer of the 1st Battalion of the Welsh Guards - this week in Afghanistan. Rupert was the son of Veronica Thorneloe, one of our amazing Head Guides. Described as a natural leader and with a young family, he was known to many here. The shock was resonant around the Palace yesterday as our staff digested the news in their own ways, all the while professionally greeting guests with a smile.

A man of my age, with a similar aged family, he had already done far more, given far more, risked far more than I know I ever will. He had the talent and natural leadership skills to succeed in any endeavour. If only such traits could have preserved him to give the world a full life's worth of positive contribution. Instead they gave him a courage which took him to the wrong place at the wrong time. He was clearly a giant and I can only glimpse the loss that Veronica and her husband must be feeling - but that glimpse is all I can take right now.

Moving reluctantly on, it seems to be a week of injuries with Trevor (head of the Water business) slicing off the top of his finger with a mandolin, Hannah (marketing) slamming her fingers in her car door and Anita (head of finance) being knocked of her bike and hospitalised. Trevor of course broke the news of his injury on Facebook and it took me a few minutes of puzzling before remembering what a mandolin even was (not a musical instrument or a small orange, it turns out...you can imagine my initial mental contortions)

Elsewhere on the Estate, our water business broke a sales record for June, shipping out 20,000 cases of mineral water. The forecast hot summer clearly does assist that business.

Roger File (our property director), Paul Orsi (head of Rural Enterprise) and I appear to have committed ourselves to enter yet another triathlon in September and in a moment of cataclysmic stupidity which i will live to regret (I hope) I appear to have signed up for a winter torture-fest known as the Helly Hensen challenge. Doing all these accounts has utterly addled my brain, clearly. Still, when I made that last commitment, I think everyone around was a little the worse for wear so, as long as I don't own up to anyone, I think I should get away with it.

At least the prevailing temperature for the Helly Hensen cannot be as hot as the last few days. As a pale fat white man, I do not exactly flourish in these temperatures so I support John's clarion call (see his blog) for air conditioning in this office.

Hopefully, we'll keep our cools for the Trustees' Meeting on Monday, always a challenging and enjoyable day. The Duke, as a stickler for tradition, arranges the same lunch every year - actually a very delicious lunch hopefully finished with fresh Blenheim Palace fruit.

His fondness for tradition hails from his days as a serving soldier, the memory of which will be playing on his mind as he reflects with sadness on the courageous and lost life of our Lieutenant Colonel Rupert Thorneloe.

RIP

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