It’s been a very full weekend. Headed out to City Airport on Thursday night to fly to Edinburgh for my friend Mike’s wedding. I’d deliberately booked City to avoid the chaos at Heathrow – it’s a small, city-centre airport which traditionally advertised ten-minute check-in.

Well, that was clearly in the pre-terrorist days. We arrived an hour and a half in advance of our flight only to be told that we wouldn’t be allowed through security until 30 minutes before. The airport was absolute chaos – it’s designed for people to clear security immediately upon checking in, and therefore has no place to wait landside – all the seating is airside. We gave up in the end and found a restaurant to grab a bite of dinner.

When we finally made it to security (putting our liquids of 100ml or less in a clear plastic bag, for whatever that accomplishes), I managed to get selected for secondary screening and a bag search. Which was a disaster (check back in a few days to find out why!). Bag search complete, we were finally through to the lounge. Our flight was called shortly thereafter and we were on our way. I settled back into my seat and began to relax.

Then I heard the dreaded “[Bing] Would passenger [me] please make himself known to the flight crew?” I pressed my call button and was asked to escort the flight attendant to the front of the plane.

“I’m very sorry, sir, but your suitcase appears to be vibrating,” she said.

A quick march onto the tarmac and a search of my bag revealed a rather over-enthusiastic baggage handler had managed to switch on my electric toothbrush. “Terrorist incident” resolved, my bag was loaded back onto the plane. I passed two chuckling pilots and a handful of laughing cabin crew on the way back to my seat, where I sat with my tail between my legs.

Excitement over, we had an uneventful flight to Edinburgh and landed just a few minutes behind schedule, thanks to a certain passenger with luggage issues. I collected my rental car (a VW Jetta TDI – a cracking little car) and we were off on our Scottish adventure. We stayed overnight just outside Edinburgh, in a room overlooking a field of sheep.

Just a few shots from Mike’s recent wedding in Glasgow — I have nearly 600 photographs to wade through, but I thought I’d pull out a few to start with just to get the ball rolling.

What the hell was I thinking when I agreed to this? No more whiskey for me!

For anyone taking notes — this is how to wear a kilt. Mike pulled off the hunting tartan very well indeed!

This picture embodies exactly who Mike is as much as any I’ve ever seen. That isn’t about patting myself on the back — it’s about being in the right place at the right time.

Matt and a collection of former colleagues. L-R, Marc, Matt, Dave and Darryl

Why Matt doesn’t dance. Because jumping isn’t the only thing that white men can’t do.

Aude’s hopeless under the influence of Matt’s charms…

Aude took the sweetest photo I’ve seen in ages.

Dave took a nice shot of the two of us…

Lots more photos to come when I get a chance to edit them, but I wanted to get something up straight away. Enjoy.

They’ve just sent out the pictures from our corporate function in Brighton, so I thought I’d incorporate a few of them here. After all, how often do you get dressed in a tux? (Answer: about once a week this time of year!)

Quite busy getting a client presentation ready for tomorrow morning, so this will be a short blog entry — I’m meeting a friend for a drink here in London after work, so I’ve got a real incentive for finishing on time!

48 hours later, I’m back on the Eurostar again after a grey, cold weekend in Paris. Despite the weather, we had a great time and caught up with some old friends.

I arrived late on Friday night and managed to convince the ticket machine at the Metro to sell me a ticket. French machines, being French, refuse to speak in Foreign, so I was left relying on my schoolboy French to get me across town. That wasn’t a problem, but trying to work out where to stick my money into the machine was – the machine was designed to take coins or credit cards, but not Euro notes – unlike the ticket machines on the Tube. So there I was, stupid tourist, trying to stick notes into a machine that clearly didn’t take them, much to the annoyance of the French.

Having finally convinced the ticket machine to take my credit card, I met Aude and her friend Anne Laure at Bastille for a few drinks. We ended up in a bohemian bar down a side street. The waitress gave me a hard time for being American…

We jumped into a cab and headed for our hotel – a nice enough place, but near the Peripherique (beware Priceline’s interpretation of “near the Eiffel Tower” – we were as near to the Eiffel Tower as I look like George Clooney).

Aude rides the Metro into Central Paris

November in Paris features a special photography month, a subject near and dear to my heart. On Saturday morning we grabbed the Metro into central Paris to see an exhibit entitled “Children of the World” by Kevin Kling (a woman, despite the name) that was being exhibited outside the Jardin du Luxembourg and where we’d seen an exhibition of the best 20th century press photography when we were last in London. It was a great exhibit despite poor weather conditions.

A group of nuns take in the exhibition

Aude looks at one of the photos in the “Children of the World” exhibition

Inside the Jardin du Lumembourg

Inside the Jardin du Lumembourg

Inside the Jardin du Lumembourg

No, not rays of light coming from her head. Rather, something to stop the pigeons crapping down her front.

Sailboat rental

It was Remembrance Day in France, with flowers placed on most of the war memorials

We spent a lot of time like this. Never underestimate a woman’s ability to shop!

We were also going to try to see the Henri Cartier-Bresson exhibit – an interest to me because he shot nearly his entire portfolio using a 50mm lens. I’ve just bought a 35mm prime lens (the digital equivalent of a 50mm lens in the digital world, and very close to what the human eye sees naturally) and have been looking for inspiration. The 35mm Nikon lens is acclaimed as one of the best Nikon lenses ever produced, but I can’t seem to get it to work its magic for me. (Incidentally, all of the photos in this blog entry were taken with the 35mm lens – your feedback and constructive criticism is welcome!)

Lunch was a couscous at a restaurant on the Left Bank – with a friendly cat that took to Aude immediately.

Proof that you can also find a Mexican in Paris!

As we walked past an Italian restaurant, Aude suggested I snap a photo of the chap in the window as a potential boyfriend for our friend MG. Innocent as I am, this is what I snapped.

Proof that Aude is a bigger pervert than me: Laughing at my picture, she pointed out that I’d entirely missed the point (no pun intended). This was the fellow she had in mind!

We decided to walk from the Jardin of Luxembourg towards Monparnasse, where the Cartier-Bresson exhibit was being held, doing some shopping on the way. Cue the first of many times getting lost in Paris (and the first of many sexist jokes from me). Due to a slightly unscheduled detour, we spent the afternoon shopping and gave up on the Cartier-Bresson exhibit due to my aching feet. On the upside, I did get a kiss from a strange woman – it was her hen night and she was kissing every passing man!

In a scene that was to become uncomfortably familiar, we find ourselves in front of a map, not knowing quite where we are…

We still had a few hours to kill and needed an activity that didn’t involve a lot of walking, so I suggested we catch a bateau mouche. Cue the second of many times getting lost in Paris. Determined to catch the bateau mouche at Pont Neuf (but holding the map upside-down), we ended up walking around nearly the entire Ile de la Cite before finally giving up. Instead, we went to Plan B and headed for Alcazar, the Conran restaurant I had booked for dinner.

Despite being unable to travel by bateau mouche, I was able to take a few pictures of Paris by night – when Paris is at its most beautiful in my opinion

After an ‘Ultra Violet’ for Aude and a Manhattan for me, plus a couple of kirs, we were in a much better mood. We went downstairs for dinner and had a beautiful meal – Aude started with foie gras and then had venison, I started with escargot (leaving me smelling like a true Frenchman all night) and followed with veal. I asked the sommelier for a wine recommendation and he suggested a Corbieres. When the wine was presented, it was a bottle of vintage Pomerol – lucky I paid attention to his suggestion and didn’t take the wine that arrived at my table – it would have been a very expensive mistake!

Sunday morning we met some old friends from Canterbury for a Moroccan brunch – Alain and Faouzia, Julien and his girlfriend Karine. I did my best to order my breakfast in French, but asked that I be served no eggs – and mixed up my article. Cue more piss-taking from a French waitress (and more muttering of C’est pourquoi tout le monde deteste les Parisiens). Despite clarification from my French-speaking friends, she still screwed up my order. No tip for her – he who laughs last, laughs best.

In any case, it was great to catch up, and my friends were all pleased to hear all the gossip and goings-on that had happened in Canterbury since they’d left (although Julien was ahead of the game, being a regular reader of my blog).

Julien & Karine

Alain, Faouzia, Julien, Karine and Aude outside the restaurant

Alain, Faouzia, Julien, Karine and Matthew outside the restaurant

L’église Saint Eustache

The Opera

Aude poses for a photo

Matthew poses with the smallest flowers he’s ever seen at the Grand Hyatt in Paris

Cafe culture – what Paris is a famous for!

Matthew standing in Place Vendome

No trip to Paris would be complete without a photo of the Eiffel Tower at sunset, would it?

Paris Metro

We left them mid-afternoon and went for a walk, stopping for a coffee at the Grand Hyatt, then walking down Place Vendome and through the Jardin du Tuleries. Back to the hotel, then we grabbed a cab which took years off my life (and reminded me: I need to update my will) until we finally arrived at Gare du Nord.

Aude smiles on Eurostar despite her reluctance to go back home

Matthew looking somewhat more skeptical

Beats a McDonalds!

Sauteed veal on Eurostar. Remember when food on the plane was like this?

A few hours later, and here I am again on the Eurostar (today’s celebrity sighting was James Blunt, having a drink in the Eurostar business class lounge), heading back to Canterbury at 300km per hour, eating another lovely dinner and drinking a glass of wine. I trust I’ll be greeted by two very friendly, very hungry looking cats.

Back to work tomorrow, but only for four days – we’re off to a Scottish wedding on Thursday night. Such a jet-setting life we lead. I’ve already packed my man-skirt.

Like a ‘Tale of Two Cities’, it was the best of times, it was the worst of times. On Monday morning my week looked pretty quiet, with a few internal meetings and some business development activity – but mostly it was the calm before the storm. The start date for my new project had been moved out until the beginning of December, leaving me with a couple of weeks without too much hectic activity.

Mid-afternoon on Monday, I got a phone call asking that fateful question: “Are you busy?” Foolishly I answered truthfully, and the next thing I knew I was writing a £4m bid to help develop the business case and approach for a large multinational company to implement shared services across their organisation. It was a combined bid with our US practice, meaning that the normal chaos of a bid was compounded by working across geographies. And the client (very cleverly, I must add) wanted a response by Friday – saying that if we had genuine capability in this area and a good understanding of their business based on our history of working with them, a week would be more than ample to respond. (NB – for those not familiar with the consulting bid cycle, something of this magnitude would typically have a turn-around time of 4-6 weeks).

So it was all hands on deck, scouring the organisation for our best experience and people. I saw a week of midnight finishes ahead of me, and thanked my lucky stars that Aude was out of town – weeks like these don’t make me the friendliest guy in the world. Though I faced a lot of hard work, it’s exciting to be involved in a big bid like this – even more so when it’s your name in lights, and the chances of us winning were good.

Until we looked at resourcing it – though we had the skills to do the job, the right people were all engaged with other big clients and couldn’t be pulled. There was no chance we could deliver the work at the quality we wanted to, in the timescales allotted. So at mid-day Wednesday, we ‘no-bid’ the project – and as quickly as it started, it stopped. My quiet week was back.

For my sins, I’ve been made our “quality champion” – acting as a corporate good-egg and championing our new risk management process. I was tasked with “making risk management sexy” but let’s face it – you can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear. Or as we prefer to say around our office – there’s only so much polishing you can do to a turd. Good or bad, risk management will never be sexy.

We had a big launch event for the new risk processes (I know – woo hoo!) yesterday, and we were all drinking champagne by 4pm. One glass of champagne turned into “Who fancies a quick pint” which, in turn, became “uh oh – my last train leaves in 15 minutes.” Not exactly what you need when you’re leaving for a weekend away and haven’t packed anything. I packed this morning, but God only knows what’s in my suitcase. At 5:30am, I can barely brush my teeth. If I’ve packed two sweaters, a can of soup, and the cat, I’ll have exceeded my own expectations.

But after this week of ups and downs, the most important thing is that I’m whisking off to Paris for the weekend to catch up with Aude, who’s been in France all week on business. I’m writing this on the excellent Eurostar service from London, travelling at 300km per hour through the French countryside, drinking a glass of Sauvignon Blanc and eating pheasant terrine. There are worse ways to travel.

Finally, a brief update for Aude’s mother, who claims that the only news she gets about her son is from my website. I was in Canary Wharf on Thursday for a meeting and had time to have a quick lunch with Jerome. I can confirm that he is alive and well, eating healthy food and still working too hard. He looks like a ghost because he hasn’t seen the sun in weeks, but I suspect that has more to do with living in London than it does with him working in a bank – we’re all a bit pale at this time of year. He sends his love and said that he would love to have a blog of his own, if only he could figure out how to post to it from his Blackberry during meetings.*

* (I may have made the last part of that sentence up)

Right – Paris is rapidly approaching, so I’ll call it a night here. Check back for photos in a few days (unless you’re reading this via an e-mail subscription, in which case the photos will magically show up in your inbox after they’ve been posted!)

I pulled this off Alessandro & Virginie’s travel blog. It made me smile. But I’ve got a rather childish sense of humour — as does Alessandro, clearly!

Virginie meets a cactus