Monday 18 April 2011

Tallinn it how it is

There's always a certain dread that fills my heart when I think about going on a stag do abroad. As much as I look forward to time away with good friends, resolutely devoted to drinking, I hate to think of myself as part of that awful, 'imperialistic' tradition of heading to the continent hell bent on the kind of hedonistic debauchery that often constitutes an episode of 'Ibiza Uncovered'.

I suppose it's my age but the moments I'll remember most fondly from my two days in Tallinn - the historic capital city of Estonia - will be far from archetypal.

Walking through the old town on a sunny Saturday morning was a delight, its domineering Gothic churches, medieval town houses and cobbled streets juxtaposed with Czarist era buildings that now form the equivalent of Estonia's Houses of Parliament.

Certainly too, a lunchtime trip to the Chicago bar, staffed by waitresses straight out of 80's sitcom 'Allo, Allo' (RenĂ© Artois would never have been able to resist!) and also a wonderfully sophisticated lunch in our hotel restaurant, snaffled by chance, just before our flight back home to Blighty.

Wherever I travel in future years, I'm unlikely to come across anywhere so wonderfully idiosyncratic as the Depeche Mode Baar - a bar devoted entirely to Basildon's finest - playing a looping track of the band's thirty year career in a cosy cavern bedecked by signed memorabilia and flogging its own range of DM Baar merchandise.

I'm not even a Depeche Mode fan - or at least I wasn't until now - but the obsessive devotion required for such a ludicrous endeavour can't help but breed joyful appreciation in anyone who comes across it. Needless to say it acted as a welcome safe haven from which each day's drinking was ultimately to springboard, and when a song came on we actually knew? Well you can imagine the joie de vivre.

This isn't to say we were completely immune from the stereotypical and I was certainly vocal in insisting we spent Saturday afternoon camped out in O'Malley's Irish bar in front of screens, not only showing the Chelsea game, but both the Man Utd and Spurs matches simultaneously (as a married father of one, such an opportunity was too good to miss).

My defence, is that I always felt, wherever we laid our Tripodian headwear, we were never guilty of trying to impose our will on Tallinn.

When confronted by a karaoke bar full of loutish students insistent on their umpteenth rendition of Green Day's Basket Case that hour, we hastily retreated to the relative sanctuary of a nearby watering hole, where to our delight, there was a performer setting up with guitar and microphone. Understandably buoyed by our serendipitous discovery, we put in a familiar request. As the Big O's 'Pretty Woman' came warbling through the room, we knew it was game over. We were in that bar for 4 hours.

This local performer probably hadn't had such a receptive audience in years, especially judging by his slightly alarming top notes and penchant for a false start. This sweet chap, who apologised for every bum note, gave us an unexpected night to cherish. I'd like to think we gave him one too. When I offered him a drink between sets, I was delighted with his succinct response - "Gin!".

It was a remarkable weekend and one fully deserving of the 'stag'. There's no doubting the copious amounts of alcohol consumed but I'd like to think that even the most unforgiving local would have appreciated the camaraderie on display, not just between members of the group, but also between our group and the unique ambiance of Tallinn.

Tuesday 5 April 2011

The truth is in there...somewhere

Getting to the real 'truth' of any matter debated in our newspapers, on TV or online, is an incredibly difficult task. Just watch any debate on Newsnight, Question Time or 10 O'Clock Live and you'll hear a number of seemingly valid viewpoints that leave you merely wondering who you should believe.

Take the ongoing debate over the UK's public spending cuts: According to the Government, without attempts to reduce our spending we are likely heading towards a Greek style economic meltdown.

Those on the left, alternatively argue that reduced spending and widespread cuts will likely send us heading towards an Irish style economic meltdown.

It's no wonder so many are turned off by politics. As a species, humans like debates to be black and white, narratives to feature clearly defined goodies and baddies. However, true to my contrary nature, it's the need to 'analyse' all this rhetoric which I'm finding fascinating.

So who is right on the whole economic debate? Quite frankly, I just don't know. The truth, most likely, lies somewhere in the middle of these two extremes.

In the recent UK Budget, George Osborne reduced his 2011 economic growth predictions from 2.1% to 1.7% but this hardly seems like a justification of the Labour naysayers, at least it's not enough of a revision to prove that the Government's course of cuts is definitely damaging recovery. It may be slowing the recovery of course but we'll probably never know one way or the other.

As much as I hate to say it, all the evidence suggests to me that, for a period at least, it probably would be advisable to reign in the spending. However, this doesn't necessarily mean we need to go about attacking the public sector in the manner in which the Coalition are currently.

Knee-jerk reactions hardly ever seem advisable in any walk of life, yet this is the impression one gets of the current policy, plus it's who the cuts affect, and the potential political agenda associated, that causes the greatest concern.

Of course, I, like so many others, haven't provided a valid alternative to cuts here (although raising taxes and larger levies on the banks are obvious alternative fund raising methods).

So where does this leave us with our quest? Often in the search for truth I resort to instinct, an instinct which I'm well aware can lead me down the garden path, so when faced with this web of uncertainty, it only emphasises the need to treat all commentary objectively.

It's an obvious truism but socialists, no matter how much I might admire their political leanings, can sometimes paint distorted pictures just as well as any elitist Tory.

In other words, trust no one. Least of all yourself.