Tuesday, 7 May 2013

On the Mic - Surrey Life - April 2013

Harris and Hoole have been good to me. I produced a radio discussion about them on LBC. They were the subject of my first report on BBC Radio 2's Jeremy Vine Show. They made for a nice little blog post on here, which got a few hits, because for a while, if you googled Harris and Hoole, it was in the top 10 results. It also made for a column in Surrey Life's April issue, which I can now re-publish (with a few tweaks) here. Enjoy, perhaps, over coffee.



The county is under attack. Just as HG Wells’ nineteenth-century Martians scrutinised and studied decent invasion sites near Woking, twenty-first century Surrey is being watched keenly and closely by intelligences greater than our own. 

Stimulant-mongers. Corporate drug pushers. Coffee sellers.

As a recovering breakfast show presenter, my relationship with the bean is deeper and more complex than that of a ten year old boy with his first Panini football sticker collection. I know exactly how and when to deliver the precise amount of liquified granules to my system in order to ensure optimum performance and concentration levels at unholy hours of the day. 

But I know what I’m doing. I understand the risks. I’m a professional. What worries me is the creeping colonisation of our town centres by caffeinated drug dens, indiscriminately emptying their black gold into the veins of an unthinking populace.

At first coffee houses seem benign. Warm, welcoming and comfortable. But then more appear, and soon everyone is wandering about clutching giant cardboard beakers, yabbering incessantly with wide-eyed abandon. Enough is enough. Surrey is in the grip of an addiction. It’s time to to wake up and smell… er… no… hang on...

In my town, it's completely out of control. When I moved to Walton-on-Thames seven years ago, we had Starbucks, Caffe Nero and a couple of independents. Now we’ve also got a massive Costa, a Muffin Break (?!), three more independents and pretty much every pub and restaurant flogging the stuff. The local mini-Waitrose has even started selling takeaway cappuccinos, just in case anyone can’t finish their shopping and make it to the nearest dispensary without grabbing one for the road. 

Which brings us to the Tesco-funded Harris and Hoole. With a name like that on the shop-fitter’s boards I guessed, before it opened, a new chain of ambulance-chasing high street solicitors would be alighting in Walton. 

Then - bang! - without warning, another retail space full of comfy seats, intoxicating, steamy smells and funky but unobtrusive tunes appeared.

Excitingly, it’s from within this controversial new set-up your intrepid reporter is communicating with you now. I’m in the belly of the barista!

Like its competitors, Harris and Hoole make buying your drink a challenge. I asked for a medium-sized strong-ish coffee with hot milk. I swear this is the conversation that followed, verbatim:

“Filter?”
“No, freshly brewed.”
“Our filter is freshly brewed.”
“Well I don’t want filter. I want it made through the machine - an Americano with hot milk.”
“Ah yes! An Americano. Well, actually it’s not an Americano here, it’s a Long Black.”
“A Long Black then.”
“What size would you like?”
“Medium.” [I already said that]
“And do you want the hot milk in it or on the side?”
“I don’t care.”
“Do you have a loyalty card?”
“Yes please”
“No - do you have one?”
“No.”
“Do you want one?”
“Is this a test?”

Even after paying I wasn’t allowed my coffee. I was given a black plastic slab with red lights on and told not to return until the lights started flashing, which they did as soon as I sat down.

Don’t get me wrong. I quite like Harris and Hoole. All bare brick, wooden floors, free wifi and friendly smiles. I was going to mention I don’t really rate their coffee, but having hinted as much a couple of minutes ago to the lady clearing my table she has insisted I try two other different coffees for free. As a result I’m completely off my nut, unable to coherently enunciate my own name, let alone decide whether I’m ever coming back. 

Maybe a county full of coffee shops isn’t a bad thing. It used to be estate agents, and it’s impossible to have a nice sit down in one of those without someone trying to sell you a house. 

You can’t help  wonder how we survived perfectly well before this bizarre mania got hold of us. But they said that about dishwashers, tablet computing devices and Mr Whippy ice-cream. The modern world is exhausting. But at least there are plenty of places round here for a pick me up.

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March 2013 - There was NO column in March 2013...
February 2013 - on turning 40
January 2013 - why January should be about headaches, mild depression and whisky
December 2012 - on doing more stand up comedy
November 2012 - on stopping doing weekday breakfast
October 2012 - on trying to engage brain and mouth on air
September 2012 - on my BBC microphone
August 2012 - on the Olympics
July 2012 - on being on holiday with three small children
June 2012 - on joining a gym
May 2012 - on making live radio
April 2012 - on being ill

Sunday, 24 March 2013

On the Mic - Surrey Life - Feb 2013

On turning 40, in February.



It’s my 40th this month. February 7th to be precise. A birthday I share with Charles Dickens and Jimi Somerville. Woo.

It has to be better than my 39th. Despite feeling unwell the day before, I decided it wasn’t anything I couldn’t cope with and my breakfast show on BBC Surrey would be fine. Whatever was trying it on with my immune system had other ideas. 

I woke sweating and delirious. Trying to string a coherent sentence together at 6am when you’re running a temperature and dripping snot on your equipment is not a good look.

So fingers crossed, this time round, I won’t be ill. I also won’t be on air, as my birthday doesn’t fall on a Saturday. 

I suspect I shall have a party. Mrs Wallis turned 40 in September. We put a marquee in the back garden, got some caterers in and really went to town. It nearly killed us. For five hours it was the best fun we’ve had in years - it was the five hundred hours of preparation that left us wondering if we’d made the right decision. 

Still, if you don’t mark it properly, what are you going to do? Wait until you’re 50?

I think 40 is a significant age for so many people because you become aware how fast the clock is ticking. You look at what you have and what you’ve achieved. You also start to worry how you are going to finish off. Poor? Miserable? Happy? Rich?

Up to now, I’ve been lucky. I’ve been able to do what I want and get paid reasonably well for it. I suspect that is about to change. The rewards at the top of the game for broadcasters and journalists can still be huge, but that tapers away quickly. 

It’s possible to make a living, but in recent years pay has remained static, and as we all know, the cost of everything has shot up. When you throw in very little in the way of job security, you start to wonder if you’re doing the best by your family.

I met up with an old friend the other day. We were in a (terrible) band together when we were 18. Like me, he’s now got three kids. In an alternative universe (where we had been blessed with any talent whatsoever) we’d have met up to drink champagne in one of Surrey’s best restaurants and plan our next world tour. 

Instead we nursed a few cheap bitters before he made his way back up north to be with his family. He looked tired and - may he forgive me - old. I suspect I looked the same to him.

But amid the constant drudgery of childcare there are moments. Having responsibility for three beautiful little ones can provide some of the most meaningful experiences life has to offer. And there’s fun to be had away from the joys of bringing up a family, as the monthly pub meetings of the Walton-on-Thames Knackered Dads Society will attest.

There are worse places to turn a significant age than with your family and friends in the best county in the best country in the world. All I can hope is that I’m still contemplating a knees up and few drinks in 40 years time. 


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April's edition of Surrey Life is on sale now for £3.25.

Previous columns:

January 2012 - why January should be about headaches, mild depression and whisky

December 2012 - on doing more stand up comedy
November 2012 - on stopping doing weekday breakfast
October 2012 - on trying to engage brain and mouth on air
September 2012 - on my BBC microphone
August 2012 - on the Olympics
July 2012 - on being on holiday with three small children
June 2012 - on joining a gym
May 2012 - on making live radio
April 2012 - on being ill