This week, a celebration of the finest achievements of ancient civilisation and the foolish, yet somehow inevitable, mistakes of the current one
Me and my big mouth
I hear Taylor Woodrow made a bit of a faux-pas during a teleconference call last Monday. While discussing its annual statement the housebuilder said that its net reservation level had slipped 28% towards the end of the year, then tried to soften the blow by adding that it was 鈥渘ot as bad as the House Builders Federation average鈥�. I presume that this is a reference to the closely guarded weekly figures collated by the HBF that are restricted to federation members only. No doubt other housebuilders will be delighted to hear how tough conditions are out there for them.
It was all a bad dream, David
Good to see that details are finally emerging of the Delivering Sustainable Communities summit planned for the end of the month, although in these days of rolling news there is a suggestion that they could be slightly more up-to-the-minute. The current billing for the conference lists its star speaker as one Rt Hon David Blunkett, home secretary. Perhaps the chaps at the ODPM didn鈥檛 read the papers over Christmas.
A different sort of rot
My eyebrows have been raised slightly at the mention of a new report planned in the next month by the RICS. The publication is an investigation into neighbourhoods on the verge of social and economic collapse entitled 鈥淪top the Rot鈥�. Er, hang on, isn鈥檛 that the name of a certain group of insurgents waging war against what it claims is an undemocratic and incompetent institution 鈥� namely the RICS? Surely Jeremy Hackett鈥檚 war cry can鈥檛 have spread to the hallowed corridors of Great George Street?
Ah, the old towering innuendo
Are sparrows eagles? Are hares lions? How could a lowly quantity surveyor dream of reaching the creative heights of the mighty architect? Those renowned visionaries at Gardiner & Theobald have dared to entertain just such a dream. The rather ambitiously billed 鈥淕reat G&T Tower Competition鈥�, which took place before Christmas, challenged staffers to build model skyscrapers from a standard set of materials. An expert panel of judges convened to appraise the 10 finished models. And the winner? A slim circular tower entitled Les Corder put forward by the, ahem, Speedy Erections team, which was praised by judges for its modesty, elegance and, er, reductivity. Well done to them. Next week: Norman Foster, Daniel Libeskind and Frank Gehry compete to value-engineer a housing estate in East Sheen.
I hear that evidence of the original Essex boy racers has been unearthed at a new housing estate in Colchester. An archaeological dig at Taylor Woodrow鈥檚 Abbeyfield development has uncovered the remains of a Roman chariot racing arena. The ancient equivalents of the souped-up Nova, or to use a current buzzword 鈥淐haviots鈥�, would have raced round an oval arena 350 m long and 70 m wide. As yet no evidence of alloy wheels, go-faster stripes, furry dice or sunblinds inscribed with Kevinvs and Sharonia has been discovered.
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