2018

March 31st. A quarter of 2019 gone already. Where does the time go?

Well here’s a belated farewell to 2018, which was, on the whole, a pretty great year. As with every year since Charlotte was born, and a lot more years still to come, my life centred entirely around my little ones. Watching them grow, learn and evolve into actual humans is something that I doubt I’ll ever get bored of.

Charlotte continues to get bigger, both physically and mentally. She does tennis, gymnastics, dance, swimming and ice-skating every week. I’m exhausted.

When she lost her first tooth she asked me if the tooth fairy was real. She said she didn’t think so, but was confused that everyone seemed to say it was. She made me promise not to give her money for her teeth so she could find out the truth.

She’s becoming a great big sister. She still finds Matthew annoying at times, but that’s factually correct. More often than not she looks out for him. Despite not getting a lot of pocket money, on more than one occasion she’s spent it on buying things for him. I’m incredibly proud of her.

Matthew still absolutely idealises her. He follows her everywhere. He copies everything she does, or at least he tries to.  And yes, that includes wearing makeup and dressing in pink. Society hasn’t beaten that pleasure out of him yet, I’m going to let him enjoy it for as long as he can.

Matthew is, in his own words, “very strong”. His vocabulary, both English and Chinese, is growing all the time. Although he still takes a few short-cuts: he always replaces the word “Christmas” with “Ho ho”. It’s nice to finally get to talk to him.

He’s becoming a great little brother. He chased down a kid twice his size because they hit Charlotte. He told me that the kid was naughty and needed to go to jail. I’m incredibly proud of him too.

Of course, not everything about 2018 was great. The new Doctor Who was a big disappointment.

It’s so annoying to admit, but it really was PC crap. Not because the Doctor is a woman, but because it just felt like a checklist of PC things that the show just ticked off. Women, black, other non-white, young, old. And weirdly the end result made it feel, if anything, more sexist and racist than previous series.

The Doctor is sexy. Or at least he was. The Doctor is sexy because he is confident, smart and clearly a very deep character with 1000 years of life experience. This new Doctor acts like she doesn’t have a clue what to do or what is going on. She seems to have no previous knowledge of anything. She has no authority at all. She is not sexy, despite finally having genitalia I find attractive. She is not the Doctor. But I really hope they get some decent writers and make her the first female Doctor for the next series.

Six, part 4: The End of the Trilogy.

For as long as I can remember I've been overweight.

I was the fat kid in school, which is not an easy place to be. You get trapped in a vicious circle. Obviously, to lose the fat you need to exercise, which means throwing yourself into PE. But PE is absolutely the last place the fat kid wants to be. PE is were you are paraded in front of the entire school as being basically shit at everything. PE is were you have to face being consistently picked last for everything. PE is were you are laughed at and tormented.

It takes a lot of courage for a fat kid to really get involved with PE. It was courage I didn't have.

So I stayed the fat kid. I became the fat kid. I joined in the jokes, initiated them even. It became a key part of how I defined myself.

Which is why what I'm about to write feels really weird.

The results of the 2nd six week challenge are in: I'm not fat.

The 2nd six week challenge has replicated the results of the first almost identically. I've lost the 6kg in 6 weeks that I set out to, the majority of which is pure fat loss.

I've hit my targets. Targets that I worked out years ago. Targets that always seemed out of reach.

I've hit targets that mean I am, officially, not fat.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not fit. I still have a keg rather than a six pack and I won't be running any marathons any time soon.

Not fat. I wonder how long it will take for that to really sink in. I hope I can keep the weight off long enough to find out.

If your reading this looking for tips on how to become not fat yourself, there is only really one tip that matters. Find something that works for you.

Forget about looking for the "best", "quickest", "most efficient" ways of losing weight. 

Last year I needed to lose 12 kg, I had 6 weeks, so I "should" have aimed for 2kg a week. If I had gone to the gym every day, and a run, and whatever else I "could" have done it. BUT, and it's a big BUT, if I was the kind of guy who could do all that I probably wouldn't have got to the stage where I needed to lose 12kg. The far more likely outcome of pushing myself too hard would have been to break down and quit after a few days. The breakdown probably would have involved ice cream.

Look for something you can do. Look for something boringly easy. Look for quick wins - maybe switch to drinking more water, cut down on obvious junk food, go for more walks. Whatever works for you. 

It's not a race. It takes time - give it time. In many ways my "6 week" challenge started nearly 30 years ago.

And now I'm not fat.

Mrs & Mr Mummy

On 21 August 2018, I received a message from my mum:

“Hi Dibs got married today”

I like nice surprises. What could be nicer than learning your mum is happy? 

In a world that has gone a little batshit crazy over weddings, I’m incredibly proud of my mum for remembering exactly what the day is suppose to be about. 

“Just me, Steve & 2 friends as witnesses.”

The average cost of a wedding in the UK is apparently above £27,000 and rising every year. Average?!? What is wrong with people? How is that remotely possible when most people can’t afford to save a deposit for a house? What’s worse, studies reveal that the more money spent on a wedding, the more likely the marriage is going to end in divorce. 

I am genuinely proud of my mum for not getting sucked down that blackhole.

CONGRATULATIONS MRS & MR MUMMY!!!!

The newly weds seem great together. Every time I see them, they are filled with happy smiles. Steve waits on her hand and foot, treating her like the queen she is.

I wish you many more joy filled years to come.

Return of the Six

Three weeks ago I drove my wife, daughter, son and mother-in-law to Heathrow. In three weeks time I will go back to pick them all up. 

That can only mean one thing: The Return of the Six Week Challenge.

To recap, the first six week challenge started 55 weeks ago. I weighed, at the time, around 12kg more than my ideal weight. So, whilst the family went to China to enjoy the six week summer holiday, I came up with an absolutely genius plan to improve my health.

The plan: Eat less, exercise more.

49 weeks ago the first challenge ended. The plan worked. I had lost 6kg.

But I left the story on a cliff hanger: I'm off to pick up two of the worlds greatest chefs (Jean & her mum) to come live with me. Think I can keep the weight off? 

The wait is over. The answer you've all been desperate to hear for the past 49 weeks can finally be revealed: Yes and no.

In the weeks that followed the six week challenge I kept my focus. I lost a further 2kg.

Then I remembered how much I like ice cream. Over the next couple of months I gained 5kg.

Then I stopped being an idiot and lost 3kg.

For those struggling with the maths, let me summarise. I start this six week challenge at pretty much exactly where I left off from the last one - 6kg away from my ideal weight. And I've come up with another genius plan to get me to the finishing line:

The NEW plan: Eat less, exercise more.

So, three weeks in, it's time for some graphs.

So far, so good.

3 weeks in, I'm 3 kg down. As far as I am aware, my current weight is the lightest I have been since I was a still growing teenager. Which is nice.

But as always its important to remember not all weight is equal. Specifically, I need to lose fat, not muscle. More graphs please.

Whilst not as accurate as the measurement of weight, it is nice to see I'm mostly losing the fat. Though I may need to up my game on the exercise to keep my muscle mass up.

3 down, 3 to go. Wish me luck.

A Day in the Life

Ultron: What is this?

This feels weird. This feels wrong.

I don't get it. Give me a second.

Ultron is such a relatable character. Every morning when the alarm drags my consciousness back into a pitch black room I know exactly how he felt in his first moments. Every morning I lay there for a while debating whether or not I really need to go to work. Wouldn’t it be easier just to destroy humanity instead? 

Ultron - living the dream.

Eventually the rational and irrational parts of my brain come to an amicable compromise: Pokemon Go. 

25 - 50 Pokemon later I somehow arrive at work and find myself relating to a completely different character: Maui from Moana.

Maui: Without my hook, I am nothing.

Moana: That's not true.

Maui: [angrily shouts] Without my hook, I am nothing!

Just replace “hook” with “morning coffee”. Damn, that’s the good stuff.

“It’s Dave time! Cheehoo!!!!”

My manager takes me to one side at this point and reminds me this is my last warning, I have to stop screaming cheehoo every time I drink my coffee. Spoilsport.

I really can’t complain about my job. That’s explicitly stated in my contract. But genuinely I have very little to complain about. Sure, sometimes I fantasise about doing something else, something “meaningful”. But then I remember we live in a world where salary is indirectly proportional to “meaningfulness” and I’m just not that nice a guy. And so I spend most of my day playing with Excel and sending emails about it.

Some time after sunset my workday comes to an end. 25 - 50 Pokemon later I arrive back home. I’m greeted at the door by the joyful calls of my little demi-human wanting to be picked up and cuddled. My girls sometimes greet me too, but they’ve mostly grown out of it.

Jean never fails to impress me by how well she’s managed to keep both children alive, whilst simultaneously managing 101 other little things. Not surprisingly she’s typically exhausted by the time I get home, so I wolf down my dinner without bothering to chew and check in for my Daddy shift.

Daddy is not as good as Mummy. Little people want Mummy. I spend most of my time just trying to drag them away from Mummy so she can have a second to breathe. I typically fail.

As anyone with children knows, the day ends with a fun little game of “Go To Bed!” After several hours of sulking and tears, exhaustion finally wins out as me and Jean collapse into bed and Charlotte and Matthew get the house to themselves.

A couple of seconds later a weird noise drags my consciousness back into a pitch black room.

What is this?

This feels weird. This feels wrong.

I don't get it. Give me a second.

Farewell 2017

2017 was, on the whole, a good year for the Clan of Jean.

Not surprisingly, the biggest changes were for our smallest member. Matthew showed great intelligence by choosing the Chinese for “cake” as one of his first words. He also took his first wobbly steps, obtained a passport, went to China and Lanzarote, started nursery and played with snow. I would say 2017 will be a year he’ll never forget, but chances are he’s forgotten it already.

Charlotte, having already started the year as a perfectly formed miniature human, obviously had less to change. But that didn’t stop her from doing it anyway. She made huge leaps forward in her reading, maths and artwork, learned to dance, studied Chinese, started playing the piano and became an amazing Flowergirl. She also watched all 169 episodes of My Little Pony. Twice.

Jean, as always, was the engine driving us all forward. As the head of the household she oversaw all of the above, keeping both children alive despite their best efforts whilst simultaneously managing our investments and planning our every spare moment. Our first family holiday to Lanzarote was an incredible time thanks entirely to her.

As for me, well, I completed Zelda Breath of the Wild. Including the additional DLC. And, as if that wasn’t enough, I watched Gallifrey’s sexiest Time Lord finally become a woman.

Yep, 2017 was a good year and 2018 looks promising too. I mean, seriously, the Doctor is a woman!

“Oh, brilliant.”

Do You Want To Build A Snowman?

Deep freeze, deadly ice, travel chaos, school closures, power cuts, shopping centres shut down, the coldest temperatures in over 350 days and an already struggling NHS pushed to breaking point following a surge in injuries, illness and death.

It’s officially “the most wonderful time of the year!”

When Matthew peaked out of the window on a cold Sunday morning it all came as a bit of a shock. He’d never really seen snow before, he had no idea what was happening, but he knew he liked it.

Charlotte, on the other hand, knew better. She didn’t like it, she loved it. And she knew exactly what she wanted to do with it.

The only question was where to build it?

There was initially a suggestion of her going to the park with her friends to build one. Now that may seem like a good idea, but I decided it would be a rookie mistake:

1. It would involve risking all our lives driving in the car,
2. The good snow would all be gone, leaving only muddy mess,
3. Most importantly, I had just downloaded new content for Zelda and it seemed like a long time to be away from my game.

Whilst the garden was probably a better choice, it still suffered from an unfavourable ratio of mud to snow.

Which, of course, left the obvious answer: building on the drive using the beautiful snow covering our car.

Boy did our car collect a lot of snow.

After wrapping up nice and warm we all got to work.
Charlotte continued to be ecstatic, Matthew continued to be confused.

“Wait, you tell me constantly every couple of minutes NOT to pick up dirty stuff from the floor to play with and now you’re HELPING Charlotte do exactly that?!?!”

At one point the hypocrisy got to much for him and he stormed off back into the house. I had to bribe him with a Peperami to come back.

A pile of car snow, two garden sticks, a carrot and some colourful “eyes” and we were done.

“Can I give it a name?” asked Charlotte. “Of course! Is it a boy or a girl?” Charlotte’s eyes lit up even more, “a girl!!!”

Good job I stopped Jean from giving it a penis.

After a few minutes she finally decided on the perfect name for her new best friend: “Davina Bow Charlotte.”

She informed Davina that she had to go back inside because it was cold, but she came out regularly to check up on her.

They’d be friends forever.

Puppy Love

Only a year old and Matthew already has his first crush. Unfortunately she’s 5 times his age, and his sister.

He follows her around, copies her actions and demands to have everything the same as her.

Take yesterday for example:

It started off with a fun game of “Guess what Matthew wants”. For anyone who’s never looked after a small toddler, figuring out what they want is kind of like a game of “20 questions” but instead of answering the questions you just get screamed at.

Anyway, I eventually figured out he wanted a pudding. I gave him it and he seemed very happy. He ate a tiny mouthful then started screaming.

Round 2 of “Guess what Matthew wants.”

In amongst the screams I made out the words “Jie jie!!” - this is Chinese for sister. Pretty much all the words he knows are Chinese.

But what did his sister have to do with his pudding? Hmmm...
Turns out, he was refusing to eat the pudding that he really really wanted because Charlotte didn’t have one. As soon as we gave her one he munched his up happily.

He’s so smitten.

I asked Charlotte if she likes Matthew. She shrugged and said “kinda, but he’s annoying.”
Oh well.

The 6 Week Challenge - Part 2

Six weeks ago I drove my wife, daughter, son and mother-in-law to Heathrow. Later today I will go back to pick them all up. The six week challenge I set myself - to extend my life expectancy by 6 weeks - is over.

So, how did I do?

Well, the truth is I have no idea. I probably should have researched something on life expectancy to see what my goal was. Oh well.

What I can do is compare my 2nd 3 weeks to my 1st. In the 1st 3 weeks I lost 3.4kg of weight, in the 2nd 3 weeks I lost 2.8kg. 

Bummer right? Wrong.

As I mentioned last time, "weight loss" is an irrelevant figure. It is focused on so much because its easy to measure, but relying on it too heavily is stupid.

Lets look at it a bit closer:

First thing to point out is that I have no idea what the kilo of "other" that I've lost is. I've checked and I still seem to have all my fingers, toes and dangly bits so I'm guessing it wasn't important.

The other thing to note is that my surplus fat loss has been fairly consistent in both periods, the key difference is that my muscle loss has halved. That makes my 2nd period much more successful than my 1st.

For anyone thinking of starting their own challenge, let me leave you with some of my top tips:

• If you're doing it to "look good" be prepared for disappointment. I've lost 6kg of weight, including 4kg of fat and, honestly, I don't look any different. But I do feel better, which is far more important.
• Ignore all the vast amount of often conflicting "advice" out there. Unless you're planning to be an athlete, it doesn't matter if you get the "best" or most "efficient" plan. Keep it simple: eat healthy and exercise. Build the details around what works best for you. For example, if I tried to force myself to go to a gym, I probably would have found a long list of excuses not to but I found doing over 10km of walking a day quite relaxing. Figure out what works for you.
• Don't make any food "forbidden", just acknowledge that some of it is stupid. If you eat a bit of stupid food, oh well, live and learn. Making things "forbidden" just increases people's desire to have them. I'm fairly certain if a new law was made to outlaw punching yourself in the face their would be an immediate increase in the number of people punching themselves in the face.
• Get yourself a scale that measures fat/muscle. These figures won't be as accurate, but weight loss isn't always a good thing.
• For your sanity, make a graph. 

Right, now I'm off to pick up two of the worlds greatest chefs (Jean & her mum) to come live with me. Think I can keep the weight off?

Wish me luck.

The 6 Week Challenge - Part 1

Three weeks ago I drove my wife, daughter, son and mother-in-law to Heathrow. In three weeks time I will go back to pick them all up.

They are having a fantastic time in China, seeing the rest of Jean's family and friends, eating great food, going to loads of play places, ice-skating, even learning to play the piano.

If I were a "glass-half empty" kind of guy, I may worry that I'm missing out on 6 weeks with my little ones that I'll never get back. Luckily, I'm more of a "top me up" kinda guy.

I'm just going to increase my life expectancy by 6 weeks. Simple.

Disclaimer: Whilst I am technically a "doctor", I'm not the useful kind. I don't know jack about health and medicine. Everything below is just details of what I am up to, NOT advice on what you should do.

Three weeks ago I weighed around 78kg. Apparently for my height anything over 75kg is overweight and ideally I should weigh 65kg. So, how to get from A to B?

The plan: Eat less, exercise more.

I know right? I'm a genius.

So, now that I'm half way through, how's it going.

Not bad. I've lost just over 3kg and I'm no longer officially overweight. If I keep up the pace I'll get down to around 70kg by the time my 6 weeks are up.

Oh, one piece of advice I would give to anyone trying to lose weight. MAKE A GRAPH. Seriously, as you can see from above, it's not every day my weight goes down. Those peaks do not relate to times of "weakness" - weight is random. If you just weigh yourself from day to day those increases can be soul-destroying. It does not mean you have done anything wrong, it does not mean you should give up.

But, of cause, none of the figures I've quoted yet are actually important. "Weight" is kinda irrelevant in that "weight loss" is only good if you're losing surplus fat, not muscle.

Whilst not as accurate as the measurement of weight, it is nice to see I'm mostly losing the fat. Though I may need to up my game on the exercise to keep my muscle mass up.

3 down, 3 to go. Wish me luck.

Happy 5th Charlotte Day

5 years ago my little angel was born.

After 5 days of labour I was shattered. Jean was probably tired too. But we had both never been happier.

5 years on, not much has changed. I'm still shattered, Jean more so, and we've still never been happier.

Charlotte is amazing.

I asked her yesterday what she liked most about being 4. She thought for a while then eventually said "I liked that it was the Year of the Chicken."

I asked her if she was excited about being 5, she didn't hesitate: "Of cause!! How can I not be excited!! Everything in front of me is so beautiful!!!"

Happy birthday my wonderful little girl. Enjoy being 5 and stay beautiful.

Smile, be happy.

Mrs and Mr Treble

Liam McNeilis. The one that got away.

I had been working on my "treat 'em mean, keep 'em keen" master plan for well over a decade - getting married, having kids, moving 200 miles away. Another 20 or so years and I would have been ready to make my move.

But after 5 minutes of seeing him with Jenny I knew my dream was over.

They were made for each other.

And, on April 28th, they had a wedding that was perfectly made for them.

The location was beautiful. A magical land hidden away in the heart of Southport.

The service was a lovely love story.

The food was delicious and plentiful.

Mmmm....

The speeches were fantastic. Especially Beth, who at such a young age just stood up and absolutely nailed it. She really lived up to her title of "Best Person".

The Flower Girls, I believe I can say without any parental bias whatsoever, were the best Flower Girls ever.

The music is still stuck in my head.

But all of that is just very tasty icing on the cake. By far the most important aspect of this, and any, wedding is that the Bride and Groom clearly love each other more than words can say.

Thank you for making Charlotte a part of such a special day, and thank you even more for allowing her to bring the rest of us as her guests.

Congratulations to the newlyweds, Mrs and Mr Treble.

Mothers Day 2017

Silence.

A lazy Sunday morning just relaxing in bed. But with two young kids it doesn't last long.

Sure enough, in bursts our little Charlotte.

"Happy Mothers Day" she exclaims excitedly as she hands Jean a cute Pug faced mug followed by a round of hugs and kisses.

She then turns to me and, in a volume of voice far closer to shouting than whispering, says, "Daddy, you need to keep Mummy in bed for a bit. I'm going to go make her card and I don't want her to know."

She returns a little later asking me to come help her with her words. Mummy, who obviously has no idea what we are up to, still has to wait in bed.

"Ok, what do you want to say"

"Hello Mummy. I love you." I dutifully write it down on some scrap paper for her to copy onto her card. Once she's finished I suggest we go give Mummy her "surprise".

"Wait! I also want to say: I also love Daddy, but I love you best."

Really?!? Hmm.

We had a great day and I hope all the Mummies out there had a great day too. You all do amazing work.

We love you best.

Happy Mothers Day!!

Smile, be Happy.

Parental Sexism

For the past five years, I've repeatedly been given countless reasons to ponder one question: "Why is sexist parenting so socially acceptable?"

It starts from the moment you tell people you're having a baby: "Do you want a boy or a girl?"

It never seems to end.

Bafflingly, it often comes from the strangest places. Adults, male and female, who treat each other with respect and equality - as soon as they become parents they seem to feel the need to "teach" their little ones that blue is for a boy and pink is for a girl.

For little children, the entire world is split into "boys" things and "girls" things. Flowers, football, dolls, cars - the list goes on and on.   Even if someone "allows" their child to break the mold, they feel obliged to make statements such as: "she's not really a girly girl, she's more of a tomboy."

Why? At an age when girls and boys have most in common, why does society do everything they can to split them up?

Maybe you think I'm being silly, they're small, it's cute, what does it matter? I can't help thinking all the battles for gender equality stem from this one area we seem to have all agreed to ignore.

We split boys and girls up, we make their interests not overlap, they grow apart or face social ridicule. They only start noticing each other again over a decade later when their minds turn to sex - at this point they turn each other into objects and, hey presto, we have all the grown up, less cute, sexist issues.

Maybe you think I'm wrong. Boys and girls just are different. Maybe. But why do we need to amplify those differences? Why do I see so many parents pushing their little boys away from the pink aisle in the toy shops? "Those are girls toys."

Why can't a little boy be interested in pretending to be a daddy? I was. I still have my doll, gave it to my kids. I also loved Transformers, watched Carebears, like Thundercats, was (am) bored silly by football.

I don't think I'm alone in having a mixture of "male" and "female" interests - I think the people who don't have any mixture are far more unusual.

So why do we falsely "teach" our children that their are "boy" things and "girl" things?

Why is sexist parenting so socially acceptable?

Year of the Cock.

I'm not normally a believer of horoscopes, but you have to admit the Chinese have nailed it: 2017 is definitely turning into the Year of the Cock.

I'm very tempted to go into a rant about what a hideous excuse for a human being Trump is, but I doubt I would be telling you anything you don't already know.

Instead, let me skip straight to the conclusion I've come to:

"What the world needs now, is love, sweet love."

Trump has made the world a darker place. We need to brighten it up again.

So, this year, whatever situation you find yourself in, think "What would Trump do?"

Then do the opposite.

Happy Chinese New Year everyone!!!

Smile, Be Happy.

Miss Me?

The first day of 2017 started much like every other day: the sound of my alarm clock replaced by the sound of my screaming baby. And, as a good husband and a loving father, I immediately did what I always do: check Facebook to see how many likes my last pointless post got. Seven? Almost a new personal best.

The rest of the day continued to be a great start to a new year, spent surrounded by family, friends, good food and chocolate. There was even a new episode of Sherlock. What more could any sane person ask for?

2017 is looking pretty good. Happy New Year everyone!!

Now, as with all New Years, it's time for the annual review: to reflect on the past, plan for the future. Make ridiculous resolutions and see how many weeks/days/hours we can last until we break them.

What's mine you ask? You're reading it.

In the past five years, I've posted only two blogs - the ending to my story about becoming an Actuary and a farewell to my father. Well the drought ends now - Dave is back.

Miss me?

To clarify: between 2006 to 2009 I averaged 39 posts a year. That ain't happening. I was jobless and childless back then, I'm old now. Old Dave just can't compete with my younger self. I don't have the stamina. But monthly? 12 a year? That I could do.

So, five years, what have I been up to?

Well, as my only two posts suggest, I qualified as an Actuary and I lost my father to cancer. I miss him every day.

Happy Names day Dad.

I've spent approximately 13,500 hours, 31% of my time, either in work or commuting to and from it. This highlights that I'm still a geek who likes throwing random numbers into his blogs, but otherwise I have no intention of boring anyone with this 31% of my life. If you came to a blog called "Life" expecting to learn about how best to use ResQ for reserving in the London Market, well there's probably something a little wrong with you.

A further 29% of my time I also plan to skip over - my treasured time spent sleeping.

The other 40%?

I've had two children. Charlotte, aged four and Matthew, who has four teeth. Based on some basic assumptions and national averages, this means I've also had:
14,000 dirty nappies,
2,000 sets of dirty clothes from when the nappies leaked,
1,500 nights of interrupted sleeps,
sex twice.

Given I've been married over ten years, that last statistic is probably better than the national average.

It also means, of course, that I've been blessed with massive amounts of joy. The real beauty of having children is they help remind you about how to see the world as a place of wonder and excitement, something most of us oldies have forgotten. It's a gift worth all the dirty nappies in the world.

I've bought a new house, twice. I now live next to a great school, in a lovely neighbourhood surrounded by some great friends.

I bought a car and pretty much learnt how to drive. True, technically I passed my test back in 2008, but I hadn't driven since.

I've caught 130 different types of Pokémon and reached level 30.

You know, 2012 to 2016 are looking pretty good too.

Sure, there's been some bad times (Batman vs Superman), there'll probably be more coming (Justice League). But life's too short.

Smile, Be Happy.

See you soon. Xxx.

My Dad

When a person dies of cancer it is often referred to as 'losing the battle'. I doubt my father would appreciate the term. He never lost a battle in his life and he wouldn't want to start now.

When he was diagnosed in 2007, his chances of surviving 5 years were not good. He survived 8.

When he was told he had only days to live, he lived weeks.

And now, while the cancer fades into a forgotten nothingness, my father joins eternity.

My father never lost.

But for all the loved ones he left behind, it still feels like he left us too soon.

He was a husband, a father, a grandfather and a friend. And more.

He was my teacher.

He taught me to honour and respect. Respect my parents, respect my family and respect myself. He gave me the respect I needed to be my own man, follow my own path. He taught me to be strong. To stand up and protect the people I love. To catch them when they fall.

I once watched as my sister climbed onto our kitchen roof. I watched her walking around up there without a care in the world. I watched her make the silly assumption that the plastic roofing above our yard could also take her weight. I watched as she fell.

And just like that, she was gone. 

I ran into the yard as fast as my little legs could take me. And there he was. My Dad. With my sister in his arms, having caught her in mid air. It didn't matter that he didn't know she was up there, that he had no reason to be in the yard or that it wasn't humanly possible to have got there in time to catch her. All that mattered was that she needed him, so he was there.

He was always there.

He taught me to appreciate the small things. The things best said without words. He showed me that something as simple, and beautiful, as a hug or a smile can create a memory to be treasured forever and I can’t thank him enough for each one that he gave us.

A while ago I got a phone call from my Dad. He said, "Hiya Dibs, yeah I just found a carrot and I was thinking of you."

"... a carrot?...”

"Yeah, I was walking past the place in Sefton park where you made the dent and I saw a carrot and I thought about how you used to play there when you were little..."

I’ll never know what a carrot has to do with anything at all. But I’ll always know I was forever in his heart and in his thoughts and he will forever be in mine.

He taught me to love a good book. He showed me worlds where anything was possible. A Magic Kingdom For Sale – Sold. He taught me to relax and enjoy life. To grab some Jaffa cakes, marshmallows, a good DVD and a bottle of coke and just have a good time. He taught me life's too short not to.

Life's too short.

But, in the words of his good friend Gandalf, “the journey doesn't end here. Death is just another path, one that we all must take. The grey rain-curtain of this world rolls back, and all turns to silver glass, and then you see it. White shores, and beyond, a far green country under a swift sunrise.”

Until our paths cross again, goodbye Dad.

I miss you.

S’agapo.

CA3 etc.

CA3 – Communications 
a.k.a “free food, free accommodation, 15-min presentation and a 500 word essay.”

Having smashed all the CTs and the first 2 CAs in the last 2 years, CA3 was a nice treat – a two day break in the pretty little town of Oxford, all paid for by my company. Sure, some of that had to be spent doing exam-type stuff, but it was still nice. I had a very tasty pizza.

Prior to the course, CA3 asks you to fill out a workbook full of various communication related tasks. For example, explaining a complex term using simple language and no jargon. This workbook then provides the basis of the first day of the course, which goes through each question in detail explaining why everything you wrote was complete nonsense – this day is mainly to help build your confidence for the presentation on day 2.

At the end of day 1, the topic of the presentation is revealed and you are asked to produce the slides you will present on day 2.

The majority of day 2 is free time – at some random time between 09:00 and 15:00 you will need to give your 15 min presentation. After 15:00 you will need to write your 500 word essay on some random topic. The rest of the day you can enjoy the sweet freedom of exam stress.

And then after the exam you have a lovely 12 – weeks to wonder how it went…

What better way to spend 12 weeks than to get some more exams out the way?

 

ST7 & ST8
General insurance: reserving and capital modeling & General insurance: pricing

After the mind rape that is CA1, the return to more mathematical papers that directly related to my work was a joy.

13 down, 3 to go, 100% pass rate still intact.

Final stop – SA3 and P3…
 

…bugger…

“Dave,” I was told, while enjoying a nice drink after work, “your name isn’t on the list – you didn’t pass.”

Goodbye pass rate, hello Loserville.

The next day it was confirmed by post – I received an FA (which means you failed, but out of all the failures you did one of the best, so we’re giving you an “A”) for CA3 – an FA! That meant I was within 5% of the pass mark. So close.

So – next stop CA3 retake.

CA3 retake
The retake is very much the same as the first time, except you skip the workbook and the training and go straight to the stressing out.

Also, it wasn’t in Oxford and I didn’t have pizza.

It did not go well. And not just because of the pizza. Although the presentation was probably an improvement, the essay topic asked a question I didn’t know the answer to. Communication becomes a lot more tricky when you have no idea what your suppose to say.

Still, what better way to spend 12 weeks waiting to be told you’ve failed than to get some more exams out the way?

 

P3
General Insurance UK Practice Module

Not technically needed to qualify, but its online multiple choice, you get the result immediately and it can be used to help revise for SA3 as it covers similar ground. Nice.

14 down, 2 to go, 93 and a third percentage pass rate… nope, that just doesn’t have the same ring to it as “100%”…

 

SA3
General Insurance

A delightful blend of everything you’ve ever learnt about GI from the previous exams, plus anything else worth knowing. SA3 can ask about anything GI related, and as such you are recommended to read EVERYTHING. Magazines, journals, conference papers, everything from everywhere.

But not only do you need the breadth, you also need depth as the paper is generally only 2 – 3 questions long.

I opened the paper and my heart sank – all 3 questions are the same topic – I know the answers, but I can’t think of 100 things to say on one topic…

The Results:

CA3 – FB – well, at least it wasn’t agonisingly close…

SA3 – FC – bugger… I mean… bugger… a “C”?!? … bugger…

14 down, 2 to go, 82.3529% pass rate.

Enough is enough. Cue the Rocky music.

If I had to read everything, then I would bloody well read everything. Starting with every single past paper…
 

…bugger!!!!

So it turns out, if I had gone back far enough with the past papers for SA3, I would have found half of the paper I failed, complete with model solutions. I mean word for word, the same question that counted for half the exam I failed – complete with answers.

…bugger…

Still, live and learn.

The RESULT
SA3 – passed.

15 down, 1 to go, 83.33% pass rate.

CA3 – third time lucky.

16 down. 84.21%.

Next stop – pub.

… I don’t remember much after that…

CA2

CA2 - Model documentation, analysis and reporting aka “a 2-day course which provides free food.”

In order to pass the course, you need to produce a model in excel for a random purpose given to you on the second day. The model itself can be rubbish, since the vast majority of the marks come from documentation. You even get extra marks for pointing out why your model is rubbish and you can ask for help if you get stuck – losing a maximum of 5%. The building and documentation of the model lasts an entire day, with a compulsory break for lunch aka “FREE FOOD!!”

So, that’s the second day, what about the first? Well, the program for the first day goes a little something like this:

8:30 – Registration – FREE Coffee and Biscuits
9:00 – 11:00 Get told that Documentation is REALLY important on the second day.
11:00 – 11:15 – FREE Coffee and Biscuits
11:15 – 13:00 Get told that Documentation is REALLY important on the second day.
13:00 – 13:30 – FREE FOOD!!!
13:30 – 15:45 Get told that Documentation is REALLY important on the second day.
15:45 – 16:00 – FREE Coffee and Biscuits
16:00 – 17:30 Get told that Documentation is REALLY important on the second day.

(Admittedly, I may have got some of the times a little wrong, couldn’t find my original program.)

As I head into the final stages of my exams, getting ever closer to the wonderful land of Qualified, I will never forget what I learnt from CA2:

“If your company is willing to pay for accommodation and travel, why on Earth did you take the course just down the street from where you work?!?”

11 down – 5 to go. Next stop, CA3…

… in Oxford.

CA1

CA1 – Actuarial Risk Management.

Two three hour exams, marked as one paper, essay based on an unbelievably wide range of topics. List after list after list. Seriously, there are 48 acronyms to help you remember them. It’s surely the hardest set-up for an exam possible without getting in trouble with Human Rights activists.

Skip ahead 3 months:

July 14th, 8pm, the results are published. I...

...didn’t check them that quick, I was out having a lovely meal with my dear friend Grace. I had pizza.

...mmmm... pizza...

Skip ahead another hour or two:

There is a time and place to accept defeat and failure with dignity.

This isn’t it.

Chesney, give me a beat!

“I AM THE ONE AND ONLY!!! NOBODY I’D RATHER BE!”

Hell yeah!

Bring on the STs!