Wednesday 29 May 2013

Wiggo and the problems of meritocracy

One of the features of Dave Brailsford's British Cycling has been its unsentimental meritocracy. There seems to have been no place for laurels resting in this team. I imagine the Chris Hoy was less than thrilled to bits not to be able to defend his Sprint title in London, but hey Jason Kenny delivered the goods. Clearly Victoria Pendleton was a star, but her tensions with BC have been well reported.
Transferring this culture to team Sky has not been that straight forward, and Wiggo has been on both sides of the 'what about me?' fence.
Wiggo and Cav have an odd history. When Cav signed for Sky he must have been aware tat te no1 plan was to get a British rider onto the top step of the podium at the tour. Wiggo had been bought in at great expense to do this. Yet Cav struggled with his 2nd fiddle role in 2012, despite it being obvious from the off that working for sprint stages was somewhere down the teams priority list. Wiggo, showing himself as part of Cav's lead out train seemed to be doing his best to help his team mate. But that was never going to be enough for a man used to having a whole team riding in his service.
Wiggo and Froome highlights the real tensions with Sky's meritocracy. Wiggo is the multi gold medal winning TdF champ. But his form since last summer has stunk, and he seems to be plagued by the misfortunes that come from being short of your best. Froome, since wilting in the Vuelta, has made a strong start to the year winning several top level stage races. After months of niggling between the two over who will lead in the tour, Brailsford has now felt the need to publicly intervene and taken Froome's part. For whatever reason Wiggo had a lousy Giro, his supposed big objective for the year. All his noises about a  Giro TdF double now now seem very short of the mark. So it is logical that with a tour that appears to be more suited to Froome he should be given the nod.  But this is where the track and road diverge. Over months of testing in the laboratory of the velodrome I imagine it was pretty clear that Kenny should ride the sprint, and Hoy the Kerin. Who leads in the TdF is full of a wide range of uncontrollable variables. My guess is that if Wiggo gets himself into yellow whatever Sky's management say now the team will be put in his service. If he then falters on a mountain pass with Froome alongside it all goes nuclear.

Tuesday 28 May 2013

Palace - Our moment came.


It was a tough job getting up Monday morning. We needed to get away from Podimore by 7 to drive back to London. Our legs were heavy from the 116miles (more for some) cycling the day before, and the 107 the day before that.

I was sad to be leaving without riding the final day. I had entered the ToW in the knowledge that it would clash with the playoff finals at Wembley. At the time the prospect of Palace getting there seemed rather remote. We had just taken a massive pasting at Brighton. Oh such little faith. How fortunes can change.

So I had a choice, Palace at Wembley or the final day of the ToW? In the end it was a no brainer, if I want to ride 112 miles next weekend I can, Palace’s next visit to Wembley, hmm well.  It was a bit of a gamble. To have been standing with aching legs for two hours outside Wembley Central waiting for a train with a defeat in my guts would have been a very different experience.

I have experienced victory and defeat in the playoffs, and on every occasion it has been in a knife edge. But yesterday I was bizarrely confident. I felt that it was our moment. It was that the Palace support and the Palace players who seemed to have the belief. Even when we were cheerfully squandering our chances I was filled was a largely baseless confidence. That Kevin Phillips should have been on the pitch in stoppage time when the penalty was awarded is the kind of thing that tells you the planets are aligned. There is nobody else in our whole squad, even (Sir) Glen Murray who I would have trusted with this gift. It was also a fitting way to win. Though defences got wiser as time went on, our early season drive was fuelled by Zaha won penalties.

I have enjoyed playoff finals in Cardiff and the old Wembley. The new model is of course in so many ways better. The food, the view, the space was all much improved. But some things are lost. Cardiff had the feel of an away game, with a slightly more hard core intense atmosphere, maybe I had just drunk more that day. In the old Wembley with less corporate bombast the fans were able to make it more their own.

One thing that was unchanged is what a tedious pain it is to get away from Wembley. But at least the queue for the train provided an audience for the drunk (or possibly mentally ill) man in the block of flats near Wembley Central. He was able to enjoy an hour preaching (!) and remonstrating from his balcony with our slow procession. But with 220 odd cycling miles in my legs it was 2 hours of standing around I could have done without. Fortunately the anaesthetic glow of victory washed away the aches and pains.

Now we have the Premier to look forward to. Yes

Tour of Wessex in Sun Shine Shocker


 
The last time I rode the Tour Wessex was I think in 2008. After the first day the rain bucketed down and the climb to the top of Dunkery Beacon on the final day had to be cut due to the high winds. The collection of riders gathering for day 3 were a grim bunch.  Back in 2007 Day 2’s pouring rain and cold remains one a  club mates ‘worst day on a bike’. As a friend commented on my entry, ‘They order  rain for the ToW.’

Weather aside the event needs to be taken seriously. For those doing the whole three days it amounts to 335 miles of riding in beautiful but lumpy countryside, striking out from Somerton.

Anyway, we got rewarded with almost perfect cycling weather, and since my previous attempt the routes had been refined. Riding mostly in Surrey and Kent one of the first things that struck me was how much easier it is to find decent roads with little traffic in the West Country. Having ridden the Castle ride the previous weekend where most of the ride seemed to be on broken potholed tarmac, this made a nice change.

Compared to 5 years ago there were some noticeable changes. It felt like a younger crowd (maybe just because I have become an older git), and not only more women riders, but considerably stronger as well.

Pendragon Sports who run the event do have their eccentricities. Now there are plenty of things that appeal  60 miles into a sportive but a tuna and sweet corn roll, warmed by the sun is not near the top of my list, nor were the scotch eggs. I have to tip my hat to the guys from ‘Claud the Bulter’ who dished up wonderful coffee and recovery smoothies from their van at the finish.

The event HQ in Somerton was great given the weather but I would not have fancied it much if it had been tipping it down. There was an option to camp on site, but to be honest, fuck that for game of soldiers. So we stopped at the Travel Lodge in Podimore about 5 miles from the HQ. In a Ronseal kind of way Travel Lodge was brilliant. I am all for a nice family run guest house but the Travel Lodge ticked the boxes. Cheap, decent breakfast box ready to fuel for the day, no quibbles about bikes in the rooms, and come a go whenever. Job done.

High point- the decent to Corf Castle and the view from the top of the Lulworth Ranges

Low Point- Not doing final day – for wholly valid non cycling reasons- honest.

Friday 24 May 2013

Plymouth Homes and the 4 weeks rent

There is a story bouncing around about Plymouth Homes allegedly making a family pay four weeks rent on their deceased mother's flat. Much indignation about Plymouth making a profit and how bad they have been. Ok let's unpack this one.

Plymouth could have probably handled it with more care and discretion but let's look at it a little more deeply. Firstly the family is not liable for the rent. They have no agreement with Plymouth Homes. The liability is on the deceased persons estate. Unless there is money in the estate nobody is obliged to pay anything. Secondly when the mother signed the tenancy she was agreeing to its terms. It is not simply a matter of policy it is what the person agreed to. Now I cannot speak with any authority on Plymouth's practices but most Housing Associations spend considerable time explaining what the tenancy means. Often people are not that interested in hearing but we go through it all the same.

But hey, Plymouth Homes are meant to be a social housing organisation. Surely they could give a rent free period. Yes they could but there is a but. For practical purposes the only source of income Plymouth will have for managing and maintaining its stock is rent and service charge. Ensuring that rent due is collected is not profiteering, it is ensuring they have the money to continue providing services.

Is it really wrong of them to ask for income that they are legally entitled to, that the person would have known was due, so that they can continue to provide affordable good quality housing to those in need? It is a sad truth that in older people's housing many tenancies end with the tenant's death. It is not an exception.

As is said they seem to have  handled it poorly, but they are not the grasping bad guys some have tried to suggest. 

Tuesday 21 May 2013

A Night at the International Man Booker Prize

The biannual international Booker is a very different beast to the normal domestic kind. It is not awarded for a single book, but for a  body of work. By its nature the writers are coming from a far broader range of cultures and clearly English is not necessarily their first language. And to this member of the audience they were pretty uniformly unfamiliar.

When the normal Booker short list comes out there is a straight forward game spotting the heavy hitters and the glad to be there group. Most of the names i will recognise and some of the books I might have even read. No such baggage of familiarity came with me tonight. Apart from some short notes on each provided in a cheery green pamphlet my ignorance of their work at the start of the night was complete.

The diversity issue is an interesting challenge. The problem of how does one weigh up Will Self against Hilary Mantel becomes more extreme when comparing a Chinese novelist and a North American best known for short stories. The judges will of course have read the work in detail. This ignorant audience member was far less well equipped.  It is to the credit of the Booker that  it has not become 'The World's Got Talent', allowing the audience to appraise the life's work of an octogenarian holocaust survivor on the basis of a 5 min reading.   However, lets be honest, that is exactly what I and I suspect plenty of others were doing. 

Lydia Davis and Josip Novakovich were easy crowd pleasers, with clever funny pieces written and read in English. For those either absent or having their work read in translation they were at the mercy of actors reading on their behalf. The reading of Marilynne Robinson's Gilead was gentle but moving. Marie NDiaye was less lucky. Her own soft French was ill served by the English reading. An actor clearly well equipped for belting out Shakespeare banged and crashed when she should have let it flow.

The non European non American writers work was through no fault of their own harder to get the measure  of in such a brief reading. The sound of U R Ananthamurthy reading in his own Kannada language was an amazing sound though.

My favourite and the one that I will certainly pursue further was the Russian Vladimir Sorokin. His strange and vivid story is the one that has stayed with me, and made me want to find more.
The prize is awarded tomorrow, and good luck to whoever gets it.

After the readings we had dinner at Canteen under the Royal Festival Hall. Smoked Haddock and Sauvignon blanc.

Lovely evening.

Elders as super heroes #hanover@50

The language we use about older people has negative impacts on how older people are valued by our society. That is the thrust of a think piece written by Dr Emma Lindsay and Stephen Froome for the Hanover @50 debate called  'Sex, Skydiving and Tattoos.'  The argue that older people should be a valued source of wisdom rather than being seen as a cumbersome burden.

This provoked a memory of my mother where she played very different role. Maybe he kind of role Charles Bronson might have played if he was a caring older woman rather than a gun wielding avenger. Living in Sutton she would often get the train home  at night. There was a cab rank outside the station to take her the rest of the way. But there was a bus that went past the end of her road that she would often take instead. 

One night when she got to the bus stop there was a group of young men and a couple already there. However she quickly realised they weren't a couple. The man, worse of ware was crudely and invasively trying to get the woman's attention and chat her up. His manner was menacing as he invaded her personal space. My Mother didn't look the other way, but used the power that being a 70 year old woman gave her. She moved  next to the woman and made a great show of recognising her. The Leary man was persistent, again forcing his presence on the woman. Addressing him directly my Mother explained that they wanted to be left alone. This broke the man's stride but he returned. My mother more firmly told him to go away. This threw him. Confronted by a little old lady what could he do. His mates were watching. There was no kudos in fighting her as there would have been with another young man. There was no cheap thrill as there might have been for him getting nasty with a young woman. Now it could have got really unpleasant if this man had turned on her, but my Mother had guessed right. This man was a nuisance not a psychopath, when faced with the choice of confronting an old lady or slipping away it was no contest. He went away, back to hang around with his mates.


The bus soon came and the Woman and my Mother got on. They lived close to each other as it turned out. .

Saturday 18 May 2013

Fun Days and Trick Cyclists

I knew I was in the right place when I saw the car with a unicycle strapped to the back. Along with face paints and people on stilts, unicycles are compulsory for an event to qualify as a fun day. Actually I shudder to think what would happen if one was caught running a fun day without a face painter. Today the fun element was simply bait, luring our tenants into being consulted. Haha! And the bait is essential. Approaching people cold  I started to understand why the hell fire preachers and chuggers around the centre of Croydon have a slightly deranged manner.

What I thought I was saying was:-
Good morning sir would you mind helping with our survey?

However from their reactions I must really have  been saying:-
Good morning I am a terrible person with a horrid and infectious disease, please flee as quickly as you can!

So a bit of fun day bait is essential to lure them in.

But this is not about questionnaires.  This about my phobia of unicycles. I know it is very skillful but like clowns and jugglers it just doesn't tickle the spot for me. It is a completely unfair and unreasonable prejudice but I  blame the Timmy Mallet lookalike who stole 15mins of my life on the Southbank . It was years back but the resentment still remains.

It was a sunny day and the man was standing around with a very tall unicycle barking up interest in his act. A decent crowd was gathering an I thought is was worth a look. It was a very tall unicycle and in a uninterested kind of way I wanted to see what he could do. I should have known better. I am not sure at what point I realised but the act was not about riding a very tall unicycle, it was the reverse. It was about not riding it, in a huge number of equally tedious ways. It was not helped by the fact that he was utterly charmless. I watched with growing annoyance as he failed again and again to mount the fucking bike. Then a group of teenagers had gathered. Their attention span had soon been stretched to breaking point. When the little man shouted
'What I need is somebody to help me' a young voice called back
'No mate what you need is a punch in the bollocks.'
I lingered for a minute hoping that the lad would put his words into action. But no, he mooched off and I did the same leaving the now slightly flustered trick cyclist to not mount his bike yet again.

Thursday 16 May 2013

Wiggo - Plan B

Clearly the Giro is not going quite as Garmin or Sky hoped. Seeing team players from both squads being given the go ahead to take stage wins for themselves suggests a clear shift to Plan B. If Ryder or Brad were looking good all the sidemen would be under strict orders.

The stories of Wiggo's chest infection hint that the towel is being thrown in. Will he abandon or labour through? Lets see. It is probably bad news for Froome though. Even if Wiggo publicly offers his support in the tour he will be hungry for redemption.

But there is another thing. Even in the British cycling media Sir Brad seems somewhat less admired than one might expect. The jokes about his timorous descending have been  a little short of repactful. Cav can  be Prima Donna and a leader of men, both at the same time. He seems that kind of charismatic presence. Wiggo, and to be honest Froome feel more like men alone. Maybe more akin to Stephen Roche than Lance or The Badger. We shall see.

Wednesday 15 May 2013

Mixed Emotions

This must be a very strange time for Wigan fans. When thy celebrated their excellent FA cup win, they were painfully aware of a nagging and less pleasant appointment to come. As has often been seen raising ones game for a big day is a different prospect for the minnows to maintaining it ov a 38 games season. Just a couple  more performances like the one against City and it would have been one of the under performing giants that took the dive. In have no personal grudges against Villla, Fulham, Sunderland or Newcastle but it was sheer negligence that put them within reach of the drop.

When it comes to anti climax let down seasons at least Wigan have the Cup. I remember a glum season in the early 90's where Palace conspired to 'finish in the last 4 of every competition they entered.' So we had the pleasure of being beaten semi finalists in both the League and FA cups plus being 4th from bottom of the Premier. Any other season that would have at least given us the joy of top flight survival. That year, to shrink the top flight it had been decreed that that bottom four would go. I think we even conspired to prolong our cup agony by taking Man U to a replay in the FA cup semi. We finally lost having let in a sloppy goal at the corner. Apparently partly due to Iain Dowie being off the pitch having his contact lense adjusted. Typical Dowie, disappearing when you need him most.

Apart from Cardiff none of the potential promotion sides this year have convinced. Leicester and Palace limped into the playoffs on the back of poor runs. Watford surrendered the automatic slot in a similar manner, and well Hull are workmanlike. If Wigan can keep their heads they should bounce back. The other relegated teams have been shockingly poor and will not greatly improve the gene pool of a division that is flatteringly called 'competitive.'

Tuesday 14 May 2013

The Dawn after Defeat


Your heart knows before you head remembers.  As you wake you already know there is something from yesterday. Then recollection plunges through like a rock hitting water. For a split second there is a hope, before waking memory kicks in. This is the dawn after your defeat.

You were on TV last night. You won’t ever see yourself; you will never watch the TV coverage. It will be deleted. But your face was in the crowd. We saw you as your team lost. That programme in front of you face did not shield you. We could see you weeping. All the hope and belief, that rising confidence now gone. You so much wanted Brighton to win. To beat Palace as a stepping stone to the Premiership. For 25 years you had to gaze upwards at your rival, sometimes near sometimes so far out of sight they could barely see you. But it seemed the shift had come, that finally it was your turn. So close. You should have won, you had the better team. Maybe.  But their 20 year old waste of money proved he may be not such a waste of money.

And now you have woken up and have to get on with it. You will close your eyes and ears for a few days. Normally defeat means the club want a new manager.  You will choose not hear Guy Poyet suggest that your team is too small for his ambition.

Yes, you will live to fight another day. But you have to get through this one first Seagull.

Monday 13 May 2013

Social Housing - The Glamour

'There is one more place I can think of to try, then I am going to give up'. Two hours wandering around the estate and my Neighbourhood Manager was ready to throw in the towel. We had checked playgrounds and walkways, the paved areas by the lake. There had been some traces but no more than that. Our hunt for evidence of dog fouling had failed to come up with the goods.

In a survey our residents told us that they wanted us to do something about dog nuisance. We enshrined this in our neighbourhood strategy and have a range for graphic posters to ram home the message. ( I did ban the use of a poster showing a young child eating a chocolate ice cream baring the legend 'children will put anything in their mouths').

To be honest the team were less than thrilled to know that dog mess was going to be a key objective for 2013, now out on the estate we couldn't bloody find any! Never mind back to focus on illicit rubbish dumping, inconsiderate disposal of cigarette ends and noisy neighbours. The romance, the glamour. 

Police Questioning - Helping with enquiries

Pick pocketing is a nasty crime, and one that I assume thrives in crowded places. It is reassuring to read that Police in Wales are tackling it. I was reading this morning that people turning up to a gig by The Vaccines were being refused entry if they could not name the bands lead singer. According to the story this did lead  to some holding an £18 ticket being turned away. This may sound bizarre but it is not unique.
I encountered this slightly Heath Robinson approach to security in 1996. Palace were playing Charlton in the Play-offs. I got out of the train at Norwood Junction and emerged to see a large number of Police.
One pointing at me barked 'You, stand over there. On that line'. I was puzzled but stood on the bit of yellow line as ordered.
'Can I see your ticket'. In the post Hillsborough world I kind of got that they wouldn't welcome loads of people arriving without tickets but I don't like being ordered about and felt a bit self conscious. Crowds were passing and staring at me, or that is what it felt like.
Then the Palace trivia quiz started.
'Who's the Palace goal keeper?' Easy enough, 'Nigel Martyn'
But that was just for starters, he  soon upped the ante. 'Who was Arthur Waite' My entry to the game now hinged on being familiar with who was the club's Chairman 25 years ago. I bumbled out some vaguely correct answer. Grudgingly satisfied the Officer allowed me to go to the game.

Tuesday 7 May 2013

Happy Man Pig

Music is so easy to get hold of now. In the early 80's John Peel might play something by a German punk band, and  it would start a journey through the racks for  London's more adventurous record shops, or a mail order purchase. Now most tunes are just a couple of clicks away. Even if I am not completely certain it is the right song I can just listen to an ITunes sample. Driving home tonight I was listening to Happy Man Pig by Sparklehorse. This was probably the last song I really had to work hard to track down.

I had bought a mountain biking DVD. It turned out to have a cracking soundtrack and helpfully told you the tracks being played. But there was a promo for another DVD called Earthed or something similar. Over the images of people falling off mountains on bikes this incredible song was playing. No vocal, just yearning and driving music. It worked beautifully with the images on the screen. I wanted that song but had no idea who it was by. I scoured the DVD for a clue but it was keeping its secrets.

Now there are only so many mtb DVDs a man needs. But I wanted this song so much I was willing to buy Earthed on the basis that it might either play the bloody song in full or tell me who it was by. It took me a while but I finally tracked it down. I watched the DVD I was poised for the song. The soundtrack was great but the bloody song was not materialising. Then finally  it was there , roaring into view. But still nothing to give me a clue who it was by. Then right at the end  I spotted there was a track listing.

By process of elimination I worked out it was Happy Man by Sparklehorse, and bounced away to iTunes to make my purchase. Even this was not the full story. I down loaded the track from the Good Morning Spider album. As any Sparklehorse fan with know this is the version Smith deliberately half obliterated with static. I have come to love this version in all its eccentricity but at the time I just wanted it straight. After more faffing I finally tracked down the version I wanted. If felt that same elation I could recall from being 14 or 15 coming home with my prize purchased from Virgin, or HMV.

I had never heard the lyrics until that point and had never really paid much attention to Sparklehorse, but these surreal words just seemed perfect with the din being made. 'Woke up in a horse's stomach one foggy morning, its eyes were crazy as it crashed into the cemetery gate' or something like that.  And that yearning cry of ' All I wanna be is a happy man'.

I was going through a painful time, and there was something about this song that seemed to sum up where I was. It became in sense my battle hymn as I tried to fight my way out of the corner I was in. I kind of clung to it like a raft. That time is passed now.

Listening to the song today was bitter sweet. If pressed as to my favourite song ever it would certainly be on the shortlist. But it is so glued in my memory to that difficult time I cannot simply enjoy it. It carries echoes of emotions I am glad I no longer feel and if I am honest not desperate to be reminded of.

Great Gatsby

Thanks to the @waterstonescroy book group I have recently read Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby something I had avoided for many years. I went back to a girlfriend I had in my early 20's. She liked to tell how much she liked and knew of American fiction and films, and if I am being honest the interest was genuine. She loved both this book and the Robert Redford film version. 
I disliked the film and shunned the novel because I disliked what seemed to attract her. She seemed to be attracted to the world it portrayed, she loved the clothes and the idea of this world filled with parties. From what I could see it was a lot of disagreeable rich Americans being disagreeable. 
When it got chosen for the book group I did a bit of an inner groan, partly at the thought of having to read the book, but mostly recalling the less successful parts of that relationship. But hey, the book is pretty short.
What I discovered was a beautifully written story where the shimmering surface is only sunlight on the dark lake. I realised that I had been wrong. The book may be about a superficial world but that does not make it frivolous. The way the ugliness of the characters keeps bursting through that surface of style is incredibly powerful.
That people are holding Gatsby parties with the new film coming out is beyond satire.

Monday 6 May 2013

Mates? We're strangers

I was about 5 miles from the end of the SFA sportive, in a group with a couple of guys from the same large cycling club. One of them clearly thought we were soft tapping and put the hammer down. I kept him in sight but the other guy got dropped. Chatting at the finish he came over to wish me well. I said
'I just saw your Mate go and tried to stay with him.'
'Oh him, I don't know him.'
It struck me that there are benefits in being part of a big club but when you don't even know your team mates in an event seems a bit sad.

Thursday 2 May 2013

Genesis and the Benefits Cap

Very strange story about a letter Genesis Housing sent to its tenants in Haringey. From a housing angle to story is so screwy I was looking for the punch line to the joke. Ok for the uninitiated. The Government is introducing a benefits cap of £26k per year including rent. This measure is being trialled in a number of areas including Haringey where Genesis has stock.
What has blown up is that it appears somebody at Genesis decided to send what is being described as an 'eviction notice' to its tenants. This letter warms them that they will 'take action to terminate our lease.' if they do not come up with a defence the court can evict in 14 days....
Now a few basics. The use of language is odd. The term lease is not normally used for social housings lettings. It would be the tenancy. Secondly we would issue a notice of seeking possession and ask the court for possession order, not an eviction notice. To gain possession we would require grounds, such as significant rent arrears, it cannot be a preemptive strike.
So whoever wrote this letter seems to have a very individual take on housing law.
The strangeness continued with Genesis initially denying it had sent the letter then trying to explain it away. But Genesis will have a trained communications team and access to the best advice available, as well as having expert staff of its own. It is unbelievable that this was some corporately sanctioned approach. So How did this letter go out? This is my guess what happened. The road to hell is paved with good intentions and today there is some very junior member of staff who is In the deep doodoo. An Income Officer's patch will typically be 1000 units, probably a number akin to the stock they have in Haringey. Concerned about the impact that the cap will have on their arrears figures they have decided to use initiative. A mail merge later and the deed is done. Sadly their enthusiasm is not matched by either their wisdom or competence. The result, egg on the face for Genesis in the national press and a whole batch of tenants needlessly worried.
There but for the grace of God......

Wednesday 1 May 2013

Sherpas

I have never aspired to be a mountaineer, I don't have the head for heights. But Hilary and Tenzing's conquering of Everest in 1953 is one of those stories that loomed large. When Chris Bonnington led an expedition there in the 70's I remember it being reported as news. In most of the stories the Sherpas were portrayed as noble, strong and silent. That said even when Hilary and Tenzing got there the question of who was actually the first one up became a political question.

But the story of a mob of angry Sherpas driving westerners away with rocks and knives still took me by complete surprise. I would suspect that this will turnout to be a bad outcome for all concerned. Clearly when the presence of western tour companies has become so great that the locals feel the need to pick up rocks we must be a long way from the romantic picture painted 60 years ago. I would note that in reporting the story everyone seems to have had their say apart from the Sherpas themselves.