Get London reading? Whaa?!?

Few weeks ago, The Evening Standard -London's free-to-pick-up paper launched a courageous campaign to tackle illiteracy in the capital. I was impressed by the jaw-dropping figures given by the paper. Get this: Thousands of 11-year-olds start secondary school in London with a reading age of seven!

And Education Secretary Michael Gove said: "Children who cannot read are condemned to spend their entire life in a prison house of ignorance."

I am not planing to praise the paper because of the charity they organized to get London kids reading by the help of volunteers. Not because they don't deserve but I shall draw a different picture with these colours.

London as the capital city of United Kingdom is the centre of civilization in the eyes of people in the Eastern world. Trains and undergrounds in early mornings are full of people whose only foreheads could be seen, half of their faces are covered by newspapers, Ipads, books, magazines, papers whatever you can read something from! Especially when it comes to education, university degrees in engineering, science, law, literature, art and lately media UK universities are still far more better than the ones in Europe and the US in terms of their educational values and quality.

35 years ago when my father studied textile engineering in Bradford there wasn't even any better course in elsewhere in the world to compete with the textile-knitting technology education in the UK. Years later UK universities still hold their good reputation at least in the Eastern world - hard to get acceptance for masters degrees, strict rules during the studies and intensive academic programmes. So what on earth happened to the UK and its capital suffers from children illiteracy?
The paper reports that illiteracy mostly is the problem of the kids whose families speak English as a second language. We know that almost 80% of London is populated by foreigners. But wait a minute. English is my second language as well. I spent -including cost of living £16k for one year masters degree and another £8k to improve my English to academic level. Excuse me sirs! but if those families are refugees and holding UK passports they shouldn't have the luxury of not speaking English and not teaching or reading their kids in English.

Minority or refugee no excuse is acceptable for not reading in the official language of the country you live in. This is like Turks who live in closed Turkish community in Germany and can't read German or Kurds in the Eastern Turkey who can't read in Turkish.

DO GET London and the rest of the world reading and get them out of this prison please...

Selling Britain by the Pound?

Andrew Sentance, a sole member of BOE's MPC, who has been calling for a rate hike since June 2010 is asking Mr King: Are you selling Britain by the Pound?

And today Pound jumped dramatically to $1,6170, recovering from yesterday's low of $1.5987. His comments helped the speculation that rates will rise soon in the UK.

Who is Andrew Sentance though? Is he to be called a speculator, a realist or "the odd one out" in the committee?

There is wide range of colours in his career palette, from private sector to academics and music. He's a former head of economic policy at the Confederation of British Industry and also had worked as chief economist at British Airways.

Mr Sentance is a star in an Essex-based pop group called "Revelation". He plays bass, guitar and is on vocals. How "cool" is that?

There is something even "cooler" I want to remind you. Annual inflation in the UK hits 4% led by high commodity prices (and VAT rise in January 2011 is yet to be blamed.)

Let's have a look at the implications of this inflation in daily lives:
An "uncool Londoner" who works full-time, stays in a rent house with no car or motorbike and lives 2 zones away from work spends:


- min £4 for transportation

- min £15 for food including breakfast lunch and dinner (obviously very modest dinner cooked at home)

- min £5 of his/her utility bills

- min £15 rent living in the cheapest accommodation


Therefore, a Londoner spends at least 40 quid per day just to inhale and exhale in this country! There is no entertainment, no travelling, no clothing, no cosmetics, no treats in this bill...

I don’t know if anyone is selling Britain by the Pound but it's getting quite expensive for sure - just a revelation…

Flat Search DAY 2/3 and THE END

October the 31th, Sunday... There were 3 appointments noted in my little notebook. The first thing on Sunday morning was texting to the 11:30 appointment human being to push it to some time in between the rest . I deserved a big Sunday breakfast after celebrating Halloween in the cinema watching some paranormal activities, didn't I? :)

First stop Texas, I mean Dalston. It is a four floored massive house with two English guys living together. Their 3 kids come and visit them every now and then. Two bicycles welcome you in the entrance one of which has a little baby chair on the back. Barbie houses, craved pumpkins, paintings, toys, little clothes were spread in EVERY INCH of the house. After starting the conversation in a very English way (either weather or weekend plans) - if you stuck always talk about weather or ask how their weekend was :) I rocked the day with my very straight forward question:

- Are you guys married?
Silence...

The one who is a computer animator (or should i say the geek number 1) said that they both had their wives lived closeby, they separated around same time and decided to live together. Two weirdos!Then the geek number 2 who does some IT job passed me my tea in a mug. We headed to see the house upstairs (with me still holding the mug by the way:)
It's a massive, giant double or say quadruple room with two massive windows and wardrobes, shelves, everything I would need for my shoes, mountain of clothes, bits and pieces, books, toys etc etc.

Price was fantastic as well, then I recovered from my astonishment and thought that was "too good to be true Kubra". Bless my naiveness!

- Who was living in this room before?
- There was another girl, she left... (Silence) You may meet her one day, maybe...(Silence again)

God! I may well be getting myself into trouble voluntarily, what does it mean I may be meeting her? In the Hell or Heaven? In mental hospital? What the fuck did they do to the other girl!? (I was still under the influence of last night's horror movie and was still holding the mug) I ended the conversation with my polite wording of "I can't decide right now since I'll see few more places but I'll let you know asap". RUN KUBRA RUN!

Second and third stops were both in Whitechapel. Chapel, yeah right word to define. No one told me that there was a MASSIVE MUSLIM community lived in that area! I thought I ended up in Baghdat or Tehran or Riyadh etc. The afternoon pray started in the East London mosque HERE WE GO: guys with long breads, women wrapped up so well that you could only see the pupils! No offence but if you were born in a Muslim country as a woman, you kind of hate Middle Eastern stuff inevitably! If I lived here they would give me a "recm" punishment for my Ruby Woo lipstick in the first place! :)

The both rooms were awful, they are called ironing rooms in Turkey as I said before. The second one was in a one bedroom flat and the guy was renting the bedroom and invading the living room so it's like imprisoning me in the ironing room! I couldn't see any proper wardrobe, there was 3 (THREE) shirts hanged up on the rail. YES THREE!
He said:

- Yeah.. I'm weird...

I can see that you are weird man, how can you have only 3 shirts in total to wear all through your life?!? And no jumpers or shorts, raincoats, or jackets, or cardigans, coats, ties... Blimey! Will I pay to stay here? Actually they should be paying me for giving them this honour of living with me! :))

Next day, after my first hit on the phone with sleepy eyes I forced myself to jump into the shower to wake up properly so that I could make it to my 10:30 appointment in Caledonian Road, slightly Northern quiet neighbourhood. Lovely modern room by a Russian girl. We Turks all have a weakness for Russian girls. But come on! I'm a girl even though I don't sound too straight when I comment on other women still I'm a girl not a Turkish man!!! I can't excuse them easily.I turned up to the station and called her as we agreed last night, she picked up in a rush and said:

"Please call me in 5 ohh no in 10 minutes" Klink!

5 minutes, 10 minutes, 20 minutes... I got carried away with setting up apps in my new Blackberry... Then I phoned her, no answer. Again... no answer. Again... no answer! ARGHHHH!!! I was going write what she deserved something like you BITCH! But saved this for facebook status update and wrote that her behavior was very amateur and she should have let me know about any change beforehand, I worked and had limited time... "London is not a city of amateurs!" I ended my text.

1 hour later when I was at work my telephone rang, a strange number. Compared to the one of hers, nope a different one.
- Hello, I do apologize for this, I'm really sorry Kubra but something went wrong and couldn't get back to you. I lost your number and you were already gone when I came around... Blahh blahh blah...

She was carrying on, I said yeah it's OK and hanged up!

Lessons to Learn:
- East London is over for me, cool kids can live there happily ever after WITHOUT knowing me!
- Sharing a flat is not a way of socializing it's actually torturing your social and cultural limits for the sake of nothing!
- Plus you would never meet the man of your life in a shared flat! Or in a Rynair flight, or in a 3star hotel!
Forget about it!
- Be a normal person and go to an agency and rent a studio flat in the North or centre.
- London is not a city of amateurs! ( still holding the mug)

Flat Search DAY 1

After making countless phone calls and crossing most items on my flat/room list finally I managed to make two appointments. The first one was in Hoxton, no one told me how horrendous place it was!!!
No offence to any Turk but all the ugly Turks must have chosen this area to settle down! Well... we Caucasians are the best looking minorities in Turkey (as well as the ones from the Balkans) ;)
After asking so many passer-bys and calling the guy two-hundred times I finally found the place. A heavy smell of weed welcomed me in the building! Someone must be smoking very cheap stuff... I hesitated to go through, but no! I have to have an idea about London housing, what they call "a room" to evaluate and appreciate the other places.

- Hi Kubra!, a skinny guy opened the door. I spoke to him in last 2 hours more than I spoke to my dad in last two months!

He was so skinny that his legs were the same size as my arms! My mum must see this guy before calling me "skinny"!
He showed me the room which had the same size as our room in Istanbul that we used to put our ironing board and wrinkled shirts to be ironed. Huge flats are inherited from the Ottoman Empire palace traditions in Istanbul. What a massive difference between life standards in Istanbul and London! Living in the poshest area just by the lovely Bosphorus and now searching for a room in Hoxton!

When he was gazing at my dark pink Estee Lauder lipstick with a mesmerised face, I was counting the grey socks hanged-up to guess how many guys should be living in this rundown place.

- Would you like to have a cup of tea?, he pressed the kettle's button.
- No thanks, I'm in a hurry. I have to see as many flats as possible before December. (which meant I have to run away from you as far as possible! lol!)
- You have loads of time!
- Yeah but I won't be here after next week and a very busy week is coming up.
- Where are you going?
- To Germany.
- Are you German?
- ?!?
He must be quite high to think that I was German.

- No I'm Turkish.
- You don't look Turkish.

I gave him a quick vain look...

If a guy tells you that you don't look Turkish that means he is chatting up with you in the cheapest way possible.

My second stop was in Old Bethnal Green street. Without google map and internet I felt like someone from 1990s! I asked a Brit who was selling not-very-fresh vegetables on the street.

- Ya going to Liverpool street direction or Dalston?
- Ermm... Dalston. ( Not because I knew where I was going but I liked the name Dalston :)
- Where are you goin ixactly luv?
- To Old Bethnal Green Road.

I walked on and on and on... Then I must have ended up in Turkey! Pelin supermarket, Irmak off-licence... And a mosque called "SULEYMANIYE"! Whaaa?! I was definitely in the WRONG place! Or it was a nightmare.

I looked ahead and I saw the PENIS of London city in the horizon (Gherkin building) !
YAY! CIVILISATION!!!
I had never felt happier to see a penis in my life :))

Not long after, the Shoreditch kids wearing the uniform of SHOREDITCH FOOTBALL CLUB have started to mushroom on the road. Skinny jeans, funky hair cuts, trainers, tartan slim fit shirts... It's like a uniform isn't it?I can wear the same uniform to fit in, can't I?

Eventually I gave up seeing the second flat and stopped my fight against technology and ended up in a mobile shop to get a Blackberry.

Lessons to learn:
- you can't fight against technology!
- asking address trend is over!
- if you dump your bf who adores you and knows London very well, you have to deal with everything on your own!
- Day 1 of flat searching can fail.

My hilarious job interview

At 08:10 miss London correspondent, miss financial princess is in central London searching for a bloody address, market place number 13. Where the hell is this market place? Is it like a market place really? Like Broadway market, local food, amateur singers on the street? Not very West London type though...

Who told me to sell my lovely iphone? I miss you my iphone... I miss lots of things lately... I miss him, and him and him and the other one, and the one before that one... All the good things in my life have left me behind and gone with the wind... The wind of change, my favourite one. (by Scorpions)

Market place number 13. Mmmmmmmarket place numberrrr... All the annoying things in this world begin with M. Don't they? M's usually become annoying if you repeat them too often.
Hey I heard a whistle!... From "the wind of change" playing inside me? Not really. This one was from the cleaner man behind me. The thing is when I get lost, there is always an African origin cleaner is up there to help me. A girl with widened Mediterranean eyes with plenty of question marks in it. How bad to be that transparent in the eyes, they always know how much I hate people, or how much I love them or care for them just by looking into my eyes...

- Good morning Kuu--(silence)Qbra! (Yes bitch it is my name, cooler than yours :)
- We have another task for you today, you have 40mins please help yourself with the laptop and word processor and email it back. Good luck!

Another idiotic member of this place is landing NYC in 40 minutes, he needs a good restaurant for Friday evening, equivalent to Scott's, Ciprioni and Hakkasa in London. Scott's? He has money but no soul then!?

After 40 boring minutes and HR interview which I had 1,000 of them in Istanbul when I was only 22 and eventually time for the actual presentation that I prepared the night before with sleepy eyes...

The manager lady: All right Kubra, would you like to start from Rome mission?
Me : Errm.. Yes. (Sipped my English tea with milk to wet my lips)

The story is : There is a member who wants to take his girlfriend to Rome for a romantic weekend and he is planing to propose her. He is asking for suggestion where and how to propose, what restaurants to take her etc. BEST PERSON TO ASK ABOUT ROMANCE LOL!

After acting 10 minutes (acting is my job), drawing philosophical conclusions about romance, Rome and love and importance of customer services bloody blah blah... I noticed that I was driving myself crazy with my acting. And finally Q&A:

The manager lady: What if he loses the bag that he put the ring in it in the airport?
Me: The ring, you mean the engagement ring?
The manager lady mumbles: Errm.. yes.
Me: He has to buy a new one!
The bloody manager: How would you help him? How is he going to distract the girlfriend?

I lost my temper here.

Me: Well it is his problem, isn't it?

The manager lady: !?!

What a loser, isn't he?
He doesn't know how to treat his girlfriend, asking for suggestions to propose her, he is ACTUALLY paying for this service! Get an iphone man! And moreover he is bloody losing the engagement ring and calling me to help him!

Is he going to ask for help in bed too!?!

Miliband kids

There are scenes in life that you can never forget like black-and-white pictures from 50s. It was one of them when David was clapping his younger brother Ed Miliband on the front line of the crowd at the first leadership speech.

Has anyone noticed the coctail of feelings of pride, envy, grief, defeat on David's face? It was clear as a cathedral bell though. He was a bit like Railway Children seeing their father off to jail. He seemed to me that he shut his eyes and tried to summon reserves of patience at the end of that day on his return home.

Two men; young, bright and charismatic holding the same surname and having the same blood wandering in their veins. Blood... This word becomes a fat word when it is pronounced in politics. David seemed to have a lot in mind, he was as amazed as I was at the cheap discourse of so-called socialist movement of Ed. I think using Iraq war as your main discourse stinks badly. Ed was not an MP when Labour ruled by Blair (or B-liar) voted the Iraq war. He has never been opposed to Iraq war openly until the leadership contest. At least he has never expressed his standing against the war.

How about Harriet Harman, the Miss deputy Labour leader? She was clapping Ed with passion as well. Hasn't she voted for Iraq war in Blair's cabinet? This is what exactly David asked her on the spot!

I believe making politics out of war is as cheap as making politics out of religion- just like in Turkey...

Are politicians NOT allowed to be GAY?!?

This question flashes through my mind when I read and also reported the story of William Hague today. Foreign Secretary of United Kingdom is snowed under allegations such as he is in a relationship with his aide. He shared the hotel room with him in abroad... he... blah blah blah...
I understand that he is a married man with no kids. And he has a very decent position in the Commons. But he has RIGHT to be a gay!? No? As well as he has RIGHT not to disclose it so far!? No? Why?

Why gayness is acceptable when Ricky Martin poses next to his boyfriend? Or Lady Gaga sings about her muffin in her songs? But when it comes to certain job titles it is NOT acceptable at all? Is politics something meant to be masculine? And gayness ruins this "FATHER" image? Well... I'm speechless about the country I live in honestly. I thought my country, Turkey has some stereotypes like that. It is simply because we are male-dominant society and the state is a "father" figure. The father rules the motherland in my country. Gays are usually among the artists, media industry and so. Gayness is pronounced as a swear word that we call the refree in football matches who is believed to make biased decisions. It represents a type of character which means HYPOCRISY!!! NOThing to do with sexuality.

But here in the UK, sexuality can be expressed freely (at least as far as I'm aware of). So why is this pressure on politicians? A gay cannot rule a state? What is the reason behind this? Is this because of Conservatives are in power? And they represent the values and traditions? Just like spending scandal came to light when the Labour were in power?

Well... Even where I work there are more gays then straight guys! I do not hesitate to write this because they are all express gays except one of them.

Mr Hague is married and have a lovely wife, please do not let anyone disturb him any more. He may or may not be a gay or may be bisexual, it is his privacy. Even though there is no such thing as a bisexual. Scientists say that bisexuals are on their way to gayness. But anyway, this will be a topic for another writing. What I was saying?

Hmm... So gays are everywhere, deal with it!