Just home on a Friday night thinking

Hey.

I'm home now, on my own. Eating a piece of dryish Manchego. A glass of wine
I always want to write when I've been out on my own. I've just seen Julie Delpy's Two Days in New York. I tried to get tickets at Sundance in London but it was sold out. It was good. It was very French. Speeded up direction, spoken narrative. Kind of annoying and kind of fun. Her own dad was her dad in the film.
Going out on my own always makes me want to write. You take in more. You watch other people. You don't have to worry about what someone else is thinking. You don't waste any thoughts...you have to carry them around with you.
I'm thinking, Gabrielle, that this is what they meant at the ashram. I haven't wasted my thoughts because I haven't spoken to anyone. They're just melting around.

I read something this week that's been on my mind, and it came up in the film. I often read the FT's management section online. I love Lucy Kellaway. If you work in an office, and you don't know her, you should read her. I wrote to her once with a link to this blog (my piece on sexism in the city) but she didn't write back. There's a professor at (hang on, I've got to shut the window, it's cold now) there's a professor at Harvard Business School called Clayton Christensen, who has just published a book called How will you measure your life. I read that in the FT this week and there was a link to the original Harvard Business Review article/speech that led to the book's publication. Professor Christensen was asked to make the speech by his students. Every year, in one of the final sessions of his course, he talks to his students about the theory of how their lives will turn out, based on the decisions they make through their lives, and through their careers.

He was prompted to think about management theory in relation to personal lives when he started to look at where his own contemporaries were ending up - in their lives and in their careers. A couple went to jail (one was at Enron) and many were divorced, or had become alcoholics, and suffered depressions. HIs point was well, that might be par for the course of any group of people in America, but I think he wanted to look at how you could almost predict how people's lives would turn out based on their management style, and personal culture, as you might be able to analyse the success of one company and the likely failure of another based on management theory. (Right this minute my right hand is very cold and my left hand is very warm. I know that means the opposite side of my brain to the warm hand is working but I'm not sure what side that relates to?) Anyway, the central question that he asks in the book, and in his class at Harvard, is 'How will you measure your life'. Because you can make all the money in the world, and rise to be the CEO of General Motors, but that outward business achievement could be dwarfed by failtures elsewhere, or may even be likely to create failures elsewhere depending on your management technique. And/or have you succeeded in the real spaces of your life, or any one dimension?

I have wondered this before in a roundabout way. How will I look back on my life. But I don't think I've ever blatantly posed the question how will I measure it? If someone asked me to account for my life - not God at St Peter's gates, but more like my line manager, Tony - then what would I say? I don't know! I guess I'd say 'I was a good-ish person. I never killed anyone (I think about it a lot though, really). I worked hard. I donated money to charity quite a lot, I wasn't any trouble, I don't cost the Government anything really, except my use of UK roads, and very occassional use of the public health care system (I estimate about 10% of my British medical contact has been NHS). But I don't think I've got much else to say. If it was about 'what have you done' I'd say 'well, I've lived in another country, I've done triathlons, I've walked probably thousands of miles, I've had two careers so far, and in one of them I've placed the UK's (world's?) first (only?) convertible, zero-dividend preference share, and I know I'll have another career after this (though probably not as a writer). It's not a great list though. I'm not JK Rowling, or Debbie Summer.

And so I wonder, what is there for the rest of us who probably won't/not really driven for having kids/family, and who aren't really going to establish a religious order or move to Kinshsha to set up an aids clinic. I don't know. I'm really interested. Is this the question we need to ask in order to really do something?

At the moment, my answer to 'how will you measure your life' is probably something along the lines of 'a measure of comfort.' I had a measure of comfort. I lived here, then I lived there. I found someone to love, if love actually exists really (I'm never sure really, I always think it might be like a sci-fi thing like the matrix where we're all just plugged into a stimulator thing that feels like this or that or love or guilt or tiredness but actually we're nothing, but I'm not sure and maybe it's all the same - reality and unreality). But I don't think 'a measure of comfort' is a great answer. I know I don't need to measure my life but I can see the merits in the question. Because otherwise...well...see, I don't really think we're here for a reason at all anyway. So I get very confused about all of this.

In the film the story ends with the common thought that you need to have love (whatever that is) and the love of many people in order that you have 'back up' if someone dies. But what about it you're not great at doing 'people'? I think about death and old age a lot. I always have, even when I was really young. The other night, when Simon was away, I gave his eulogy in my mind at his funeral service. I've given this speech many times since I've known him (is it a charm to protect against the real thing?) and it's always very good, and very sad, and it always makes me cry. But that helps make me sleep, so it's good too. In the morning the eulogy always seems way too melodramatic (in this particular speech, for example, I threatened to hunt his ex-wife down (and kill her? I couldn't decide even then if that was too strong for the occassion) to the very darkest cave if she ever complained after his death that he hadn't given her enough money...as she spends a lot of time complaining currently. As I say, it was probably an inappropriate speech for the funeral but in my mind she had insisted on coming and sitting in the front row. I still don't know in reality whether she would want to come to his funeral or not - or what I would think about that. It's on my list of things to know how to handle though, because I like to be prepared. Maybe I'll measure my life by how prepared I am?).

(I'm back, I had to get some more cheese, my right hand is still icy).

Anyway, but the trouble is, I don't really like people much so I don't cultivate a large and broad circle of friends. I can't be bothered. I know that will be my loss so it does worry me, but at the moment, I can afford to be lazy about it. So, how will I measure my life if I don't really care about anything? Is this why people have kids? I don't think so. I don't think people think about it that much.

In his book the professor gives a personal example of how he has shaped his life deliberately. He has a strong (Mormon) faith and made a promise to God when he was a teenager that he would never play basketball on Sunday. He went to Oxford in England (as a Rhodes Scholar) and his basketball team made the national finals. But it was to be played on a Sunday. He didn't play. To the amazement of his teammates and coach, who all said 'but, it's just one Sunday!' He felt then, and now, that it was very important to stick to his principles, and that it's easier to be principled 100% of the time, than 98% of the time. And he feels now that had he made the allowance 'just once' the long time impact would have been exponentially higher than the apparent short term 'price' of stepping over the line 'just that one time'. I do like that story because I think he's right. And I respect very principled people, and I think it's right that it's easier to be 100% on something, not 98% on something.

Anyway.

That's where I'm at. I can't be bothered writing this so it makes sense. I think you know what I mean. There's lots of sirens going on. It's a bit chilly.

I've got a creative workshop tomorrow at the School of Life. I started to write to you about the event they held this Monday night. It was 6 sessions on big themes like 'how to find fulfilling work' and 'how to think more about sex with Alain de Botton' No, really, it was 'How to think more about sex, with Alain de Botton (you need the comma, you see, it's a joke), and 'how to change the world'. The best think I got from the (super short) sessions was why don't you think of your career as being really broad...think about success as bredth, not verticality (I've made that word up). I like that, because I'm moderately good at lots of things. I don't care enough about any one think I've done so far for a living to be the CEO or super senior. It was a good piece of advice.

Anyway. Now I'm going to read Gabsy's latest blog. I can never read someone else's work when I'm about to write because it might already say what I want to say.

See you later. I wonder if anyone will read this, and no, this is just the way I think all the time.

xx KB

Censorship, Australian-style, by Coles and Woolies

It was with sadness and dismay I read the news that an advertisement by the grassroots campaign organisation GetUp! had been banned from the air by all the major Australian television networks.

Why? Because it criticises Coles and Woolworths – two of the country’s biggest advertisers.

This is censorship, Australia. It is a direct offense to freedom of speech and shows clearly how in hock the nation is to big business.

From afar, it looks like big business runs Australia. It’s a rather dismal thought to have as I prepare to return to live there after almost a decade abroad.

The stranglehold that Coles and Woolworths have over the nation affects every person, every mother trying to feed her children, every father, every person who wants to eat. Why can I buy eight avocados for £1 in London – where they are imported – and I have to pay $3 for one in Sydney, when they are grown in Australia? It is now cheaper to have a meal at McDonald’s for lunch than it is to make your own sandwich. No wonder there’s an obesity problem. This is not simply a matter of market forces: there are four million people in Sydney – that is not a small market on any scale. There are an equivalent number of people in Barcelona, and I can tell you now, that avocados do not cost $3 there. When I lived in Barcelona, I could buy several bags of fresh fruit and vegetables for under $10.

Yes, Australia is a huge nation and the cost of transportation and logistics is high, but not high enough to justify the huge increase in the price of fresh food that has – not coincidentally – risen with growth of the Coles and Woolworths franchises. The fewer independent grocers out there, the more expensive the food. It’s a no-brainer. A duopoly of this kind should be illegal under Australia’s own competition laws. Why isn’t it?

It’s time to think very carefully, people of Australia, about in whose interests political decisions are being made. And maybe it will take a flagrant abuse of freedom of speech to wake people up.

It is now clear that if you disagree with Coles and Woolworths, you will not be allowed to say so on Australian television. Are you comfortable with that?

According to GetUp! Nine actually told a journalist straight: it would be "illogical to ruin relationships with valued, and long-standing, clients for the sake of GetUp's campaign."

This is the ad that the networks don’t want you to see.

Yes, it’s controversial, but since when were we not allowed to have a controversial opinion?

You can read more about GetUp's campaign here.

Seven (plus two) secrets to a happy life

In the last SpeedBlog, I referred to a wise woman’s advice to me. That wise woman has now agreed to share with us all her seven (plus two) secrets to a happy, fulfilled life. She is now 69 and runs three miles a day.*

I made this list when I was 37. It’s what I would have done differently if I could go back and start over. Of course, one can STILL do everything on the list at any point.

1)TAKE CARE OF HEALTH
No smoking
Eat well
Maintain a good weight
Exercise

2) BE A HOMEMAKER AT EVERY PERIOD OF LIFE
Don't say, "Oh, I don't own it/I'm only renting/I won't be here long/This isn't the apartment, room or house I want/I'm unhappy here/I'm going to move soon/I'm getting divorced.” etc

3) PURSUE HOBBIES AND INTERESTS IN AN ORGANISED FASHION
Otherwise you love to read, but years pass and you haven't read a book; you love the theatre, but years pass and you realise you haven't seen a play in three years; you want to learn to cook kebabs, but years pass etc!

4) ENJOY EACH STAGE OF LIFE
I remember being unhappily married and going to a grocery store one Saturday night and seeing two young women together in animated conversation- and remembering that when I was young and single and going out with a friend on a Saturday night, I didn't appreciate how much fun it was! Each stage and condition has its own pleasures.

5) GET A PROFESSION OR A TRADE
If you don't know what you want to do, become a lab technician or go to secretarial school, or get a bartending license, a certificate to teach English as a foreign language - something- then when you decide what you want to do you will be able to pay for it.

6)  ENJOY THE CHILDREN EVEN MORE
No matter how much you enjoy them, enjoy them more!

7) MOST RELATIONSHIPS ARE RECREATIONAL IN NATURE
Don't turn every little affair into a major romance complete with heartbreak etc. Men seem to know this instinctively, but we women just don't get it. It's only serious when it's serious.

In old age I’ve added two more:
8) TAKE CARE OF MONEY

9) MASTER TECHNOLOGY
It really is worth it to spend an hour reading the booklet when you get something new - a phone, a toaster, oven etc.

*Editor's note: The woman who gave me this advice insists they are NOT secrets to a happy life - for who knows that? (in fact her actual words were 'What kind of person would have the nerve to claim they know the secrets to a happy life?) - they are merely things she would have done differently and can still do. Sorry, dear friend, for both naming you and misquoting you!

The upside to never being satisfied....

A SpeedBlog response from Sarah Farraway

I put the advice 'enjoy every stage of life' in the same basket as 'treat every day as if it's your last'. All sounds good in theory but in reality - not possible, or even desirable.

I mean, who can treat everyday as if it's their last? If I lived my life like that I'd be a lazy bum who never finished school, got a degree (or a job), did the washing up or the grocery shopping. I sort of feel the same about 'enjoy every stage of life'.

I've never been happy with where I was. I have always lived with one foot in the future - daydreaming impatiently for the day to arrive when I will be living exactly the life I want to. Of course, with age I have worked out that day will never arrive and I will always be seeking and wanting more. But is this bad?  I don't think so. Some people will think it sounds as though I never enjoy a moment or have any fun. That's not true, I have fun all the time. But the fact that I am never satisfied has given me focus and discipline and I believe is the reason why I have achieved everything I ever set my mind to.

There are downsides of course. I am hideously impatient and I’ve never been able to enjoy a night out as much as my friends (I can only have a good time up to the point where I start thinking about what I’ve got to do the following day….). But I like having a goal to work towards, even if it keeps changing as mine have a tendency to do.

I’m curious to see if having my first baby later this year changes this lifelong aversion to living in the moment. The ever-present needs of a new child and having wanted to be a mother for a long time may conspire to force me to live in the here and now.

But I think it’s just as likely I will start planning for the next baby…or finishing my degree….or buying my dream house, or something……

Sarah is living, working and studying in Sydney with her partner and 3 1/2 children.

The beautiful truth of life's pleasures

A speedblog entry by Ellen Francis.

"Life is what happens when you're busy making plans". So I stopped making them, and got a life. I had been working in the City in a job which was making me short-tempered, deeply cynical and, despite many friends and endless dates, rather lonely. So last January I quit my job, moved onto a Dutch barge moored in a quiet part of Battersea and, to complete the picture of a mid-life crisis, bought a sports car.

"What are your plans?" I was asked. I hadn't a clue, I vaguely just wanted "a year off to think about what I actually want to do".

From the outside my non-working life looks great, but more importantly it also feels great from the inside too. Exactly six months after quitting my job I met a man. And he came with a dog. The absolute highlight of my day is meandering down the river with Daisy on our hour long, sometimes two-hour long, yomp to Battersea Park. I take real joy, heart bursting joy, in this simple activity. I have reconnected in small, but to me life-changing, ways with the physical world around me: the tides make the boat creak, rain sometimes leaks through the roof, a sunny day finds me sitting on deck. I am at Nature's mercy and this has forced me to make another wonderful connection: with the community on my doorstep who answer distressed calls when I spring a leak.

It is now 15 months since I quit my job and I still don't know what I want to do when I grow up (except maybe marry that man who is now my fiance). I am extremely lucky to afford this time off, but my new life has also taught me that it's the little things which make me happy and, like the dog, as long as I am fed, watered, walked and given a little unconditional love each day then all will be well.

So, to answer the speedblog question: the best stage in life is now. Or rather (borrowing nauseatingly from modern faux spiritualism) "the now", being "present" or "in the moment". The best stage in life is the stage when you stop making plans.

Watch a film about the Holocaust and walk through a cemetary - then tell me you've got real problems.

by Katherine Burgdorf.

I have spent the last two years unpacking the boxes of my mind. Many were marked 'fragile' and all of them were woeful. Had they been labelled they would have read something like 'Status', 'Comparison', 'Anger', 'Anticipation', 'Expectations' and 'Deservedness'. One of them was marked 'PMT - This way up you idiot'.

I don't mind telling you it's been something of a chore - like starting a session of Spring cleaning and still being surrounded by mess in Autumn.

But about a month ago I realised I had nothing to worry about. To continue the analogy the only box left was the one with my personality in it. It's not a neat filing case but it's no worse than anyone else's...and it's got loads of room in it. I realised I'd narrowed down the things I'll worry about to four. I told someone this at work and they thought I was crazy. 'Why would you list out the things you're going to worry about?' they said. But they had it wrong. I just meant that if it's not on the following list I'll have to think seriously before getting wound up:

1. my husband's health
2. my sisters and their families, including my sister in law and her family
3. cancer
4. my marriage

If there's a problem with anything to do with that list it's automatically classified as 'All out panic'. If it isn't on that list, like whether my pension is likely to be big enough in 40 year's time, then try not to worry unnecessarily.

Life, as it turns out, is really not so bad for me. So when I ask which phase of my life is the best, it has to be now. I don't own a pair of rose coloured glasses. While I had fun in my 20s what I remember most is vague or not-so-vague anxiety about my place in the world.

People often groan at the way I see the world. I'd be flattered if I really was that different but here are the things I find useful to think about at 33 and one-quarter.

1. When in trouble, ask yourself whether it will matter when you're 80. Instant perspective.

2. Watch documentaries and films about African poverty and the Holocaust. Very few of us have any real problems.

3. We will all be dead very soon. Wander through a cemetery. It's one of the most refreshing things you can do.

4. If you do one thing in life, ditch the sense of righteous expectation. No one owes you anything, no matter how many times your mother said it was all about school grades/kids/marriage/getting on the property ladder. Your life can turn to utter crap in a second, or over years. It might be your fault, it might not.

5. Women: If you regularly feel like you're going to kill a) yourself and/or b) other people I pass on the wonderful recommendation of B vitamins and Evening Primrose Oil. Because while it's galling to be afflicted with PMT (when you righteously expect to be above that kind of thing, see point 4) you cannot argue against hormones without some help.

Of course, my 5 pieces of advice as are useless to you as they are useful to me. If I gave the above advice to my 25-year-old self I'd have nodded wisely, thought I'd got it, and completely ignored it in practice. Success is probably best summarised as getting by as best you can with your silly problems until you die, or cannot live with them any longer. You'll either find a way to change them, or not.

Please Life, Don’t Get Any Better by Gabrielle's Mother

By Margaret Coulton

Further to my daughter’s lovely comments, I thought it would be interesting to reflect on my weekend as I approach my 63rd birthday.

My weekend started Friday afternoon with babysitting two of my beautiful grandchildren until 7.30pm, then onto a gig of the daughter of my dear friend, Cathy. After a few wines, chilling to some great music, a few dances, some karaoke (I was the best), we went back to Cathy's place for a few digestifs, a little more singing and dancing and finally to bed at 3am.

Saturday - a beautiful sunny 25 degrees, started with a long scrumptious breakfast with friends, then we were off to see two more of my beautiful grandchildren. Patricia, our daughter-in-law’s mother, was kind enough to provide a beautiful gourmet picnic lunch and a lovely white wine. We were home by 5pm and enjoyed a quiet night with a few drinks.

Sunday, a beautiful 25 degrees again, a walk on the beach, then prepared a delicious lamb ragout pappardelle for an early birthday celebratory lunch with friends and, of course the love of my life, Gazza. Following a few champagnes, magnificent lunch and a number of wines, as is the norm for our get-togethers, we partook in a number of extremely riveting discussions, including: the potential for starting our own reality TV series where we could give cooking and lifestyle advice; who was going to look the best at Janet's upcoming 60th birthday party in Hua Hin (Thailiand); appropriate hem lengths for women of our vintage (I did not agree with the guys that it was six inches above the knee); droopy boobs (none of us have them); politics (we all agreed we could run the country far better than our present government); our current medications; what we will do when we win lotto; and of course, bowel habits.

I must admit, looking after my beautiful granddaughter, Tilly, that night was quite a challenge at the end of such a weekend!

So what do I think about this stage of my life? Bloody exhausting!

Published in response to Not The Style Pages' SpeedBlog series