From Saigon to Cantley

I have to admit the title of this blog post is a bit of a cheat - because I went to see 'Miss Saigon' - I didn't go there. But even so, a trip to London now and then, for purely social purposes, is worth a mention. The production was very good and the singing most enjoyable, but I have to confess that I prefer Madame Butterfly.

However, my post this week starts with Miss Saigon on a Wednesday evening, as it was the opener
for a few days off. After trekking into London (well, getting chauffeur driven in a small mini-bus with some colleagues from work) we enjoyed a quick cider in the Three Greyhounds before seeing the show. We had good seats, and after a lovely evening managed to make it home just after midnight.

Thursday morning I headed with my friend to Norwich and to a few days rest and relaxation. We started off with a short walk round the marshes to the south of the city - and saw very little wildlife, but some really lovely trees. I like willows, and they have 'crack willows' on this little nature reserve tucked away inside the ring road, but just outside the city. I wonder - can you get addicted to this kind of tree?

This butterfly settled on me before heading into the tree

 Friday was shopping day - and we went to a low-cost store in the city to stock up on bits and pieces for our weekend. My friend lives in Norwich, but we were both surprised when in the store we bumped into a friend of mine! He lives in Diss - a few miles away - but what a small world, we were both in that shop in Norwich, as visitors, at the same time.

In the evening we went to the Norwich Folk Club and saw the highly talented Georgia Shackleton. A delightful evening - and I even got to sing a couple of songs too. I was asked back as well, but it won't be my weekly hang out for geographical reasons.

Saturday we headed into the city and went on an open top bus tour. We stopped off at the Roman Catholic cathedral (the second largest in England and large enough to be used as a reference point for pilots in the second world war).  Our first visit, though, was not to this imposing building, but to the Plantation Garden nearby. If you are a visitor to Norwich, I can thoroughly recommend this hidden delight.

Despite its Gothic appearance, the church is only 100 years old

The plantation garden.

The Italianate steps at the end lead to a small rustic summerhouse

After After our visit to the garden, we headed back to the church. There was a wedding on and, whilst two young people pledged their vows before their god, we climbed 247 steps to heaven - well, to the roof. here's some of the pictures I took:

It looks like stone, but it is brick built with a stone facade

In the roofspace

Tremendous views over Norwich

Look up!

Look down

The other cathedral

Lots and lots of steps...

Interior - looks more than its 100 years old

One of the ornate bosses

 Saturday evening we rested, but Sunday it was time for a trip on the Broads. We hired a noddy boat (a small day cruiser) with some friends who also live in Norwich, and headed out across the Yare. We chugged slowly up the river to Rockland where we stopped for a fantastic lunch at the New Inn. Dodging sail boats, scaring up kingfishers, disturbing the herons and intriguing the ducks (we didn't have any bread for them), five of us and a dog (Five go Mad in Norfolk?) had an extremely pleasant autumn day on the water.

We had to dodge the sailboats

Abandoned windpump at Cantley

After lunch we headed further along the river to Cantley, and eventually turned round and came back to the boatyard at Brundall. A thoroughly relaxing and pleasurable day.

And now I'm back at home, and enjoying this little post, and these pictures, and the lovely memories of a wonderful county, and even better friends.


All photographs by Carrie Sheppard (C)

Liked this? Try A weekend in Rome

Mind your... mind

Many years ago, when employed at a learning and development specialist, we all had a 'team day'. We didn't build bridges across the river with a ball of string and three tin cans, but we did have fun laser-shooting each other and running around a field together. Not everyone's idea of fun, but I enjoyed it.

At one point, either on this or another away day, we had a meditation session. We all sat in a darkened room whilst a timer softly went 'bong' at regular intervals. I have to say I couldn't sit still. I wiggled, I opened my eyes (to watch everyone else with their eyes closed), and I had a desperate urge to run around the room. In other words, I wasn't much good at meditating!

And now?

Mindfulness is a real buzz word at the moment - especially in the 'self-aware' and 'self-help' arena. But it's also raising it's head in the business world, with the benefits of meditation, taking personal time out and simply learning how to relax being great tools in the battle against stress.

I recently undertook a short course on mindfulness - because I do get stressed. I have a busy job, a busy social life, and don't always take the best course of action for a stress-free life. I first heard about mindfulness at work - a free hour session on the science park where I spend my days. I attended the hour, and thought that the basic principles were pretty sound. And, goodness knows, I could surely do with some quiet time in my mind.

I dream at night in full colour, full adventures, sometimes horrific, sometimes lovely, most often busy and intriguing and quite often exhausting. My mind is a pretty busy place, even when I'm asleep. So mindfulness seemed like a good starting place.

I signed up for a short e-course, but it wasn't just on line. I received regular texts and one to one calls from the course leader, Sam, and he talked me through the techniques, and through issues I was experiencing. He didn't offer advice, he didn't tell me what I should or shouldn't do, he listened, and he explained how mindfulness could help. And it did.

I developed the mindfulness habit, and now every night (well almost, after my party in the summer I couldn't stay awake to do it) I spend just a few minutes being mindful. Learning to clear my mind has not been easy - it's still a busy place and I still dream in surroundsound and technicolour, but slowly I am learning to relax my mind. I've discovered different depths of vision when my eyes are closed (who knew!) and also how to focus better on nothing, rather than everything. Then when something barges in, it's not cluttered, and I can deal with it.  Thank you Sam!

So, I'm a mindfulness convert. My next programme is a 'tiny pause' - to help with sleeping. I'm not the greatest of sleepers, so let's hope this next adventure is as useful and practical as the last.

Meditate? No, still not something I think I could do, not for more than maybe ten deep breaths...

Liked this? Try this...
http://www.ukfolkie.blogspot.co.uk/2006/11/of-mud-and-motivation.html (the 'away day' as mentioned above)
More from my blog on EFT http://www.ukfolkie.blogspot.co.uk/2007/12/learning-about-eft.html
NLP http://www.ukfolkie.blogspot.co.uk/2008/06/nlp.html


Photo credit Microsoft Clipart

Sneak Peak

Yes, Peak. This weekend I went to Youlgreave (or grave, or a number of other spellings) in the Peak District.

Yours for around £1m...

The countryside is spectacular and the village quite charming. There is one rather lovely house for sale - now where is my lottery ticket? I think it would make a rather good folk music and dance retreat. Ah, wishes and dreams!

The weekend was not about walking, though we did some of that; it was about something that I've not really done before, and not a lot of people I know do it either. I got my 'sneak peek' into the world of Circle Dance.

I had been to a small circle dance before, in the deep wilds of Norfolk, but this was very different. This was communal living for four days, sharing food, dancing together, sometimes walking together and generally being very sociable.  OK, we stayed in a B&B at the local pub which wasn't very communal (some folks stayed and slept on the floor in the basement of the village hall), but it was very pleasant indeed.

I'm not much of a dancer, to corrupt a line from one of my own songs, 'I'd rather be playing' - but if you can't play, then dancing is good too!

What I like about circle dance is that you don't have to be an expert dancer, you don't have to do the fast ones, and you don't have to have a partner. It's like line dancing, only joined up (well, not exactly, but there are similarities). Everyone dances together, no gender differentiation, and 'no mistakes, only variations'.

At the end of a dance, the circle continues to hold hands and just 'enjoys' the sense of community that dancing together brings. It could border on the spiritual, and at the end of a dance session we came together in more of a circle 'hug' and - despite my cautious, skeptical nature, I found it very relaxing and pleasant.

We didn't dance non-stop - afternoons were free and we chose to walk the wonderful countryside nearby, especially enjoying walks along the Bradford river which was a stroll from the village hall where we were
dancing. The weather was mostly good and I was delighted to see grey wagtail, dippers and even a kingfisher.

They were good people, and I made new friends and learned how do to many of the moves that are repeated in different dances. There were dances from Turkey, Russia, Israel, Greece, the Balkans and many more. An international, harmonic, sociable, relaxing yet sometimes energet

A dipper, dipping!

ic way to spend a long weekend.

My friend who invited me is keen to go again - well, I think I just might!

A walk on the wild side

Thetford forest was established just after the war to provide timber for England. The huge tracts of pine forest provide sustainable timber and are also a haven for wildlife.

This Sunday I had the pleasure of walking round a part I’d not visited before – Lynford arboretum. The pine woods were cool on such a hot day, and the goldcrests continually called from the treetops. Evident as they were audibly, visibly they were hidden.

Our woodland walk took us past a lake and the lilies were abundant – providing the most perfect backdrop for some swans and their cygnets.  Butterflies abounded too and on one buddleia we saw four species: speckled wood, peacock, red admiral and comma. They were joined by a multitude of smaller bugs too, including hoverflies.

Everyone we met along the way smiled and shared a ‘good morning’ or a smile. A young mother with three children and two dogs sat entertaining her youngest in a pram whilst two older boys played in the stream – good old fashioned outdoor fun. 

The shade of the trees played patterns with the sunshine on the path, and the lush green grass hummed with life. In one small patch we stopped to look at we could see damsel flies, moths, butterflies and delightful yellow-backed beetles.

Eventually our walk took us to the arboretum and a magnificent avenue of sequoia. We could still hear the birds but they remained obscure. We saw dragonflies aplenty, and as we walked beneath a beech tree we heard a cracking sound. We stood still beneath the tree and then heard the clatter of empty beechnut shells tumbling down through the branches and onto the floor (and sometimes onto us). It took a while, but we eventually spotted the squirrel who was so engaged in eating that he thought nothing of littering the floor below.

As we wandered into the arboretum we saw many trees and hunted for labels which confused us more than they informed. Between the arboretum and the woods were beautiful meadows – wildflowers scattered amongst the long grass with the random beauty that only nature can plan.

The forest is famous for its hawfinches, crossbills and many other less common birds. Though we didn’t see any of these, it was nonetheless the most delightful walk.


All photos (C) Carolyn Sheppard

If you liked this blog post, why not check out:

Ramsey Canyon, USA
A morning out birding

"Nature. Cheaper than therapy." Anon

Marketing

I was sent an email hyping the excellent work an agency did for Vauxhall and the England foot ball team - here it is:

Stand Together

And here's the 'behind the scenes' youtube:

Good marketing, a lovely ad, but ... the problem is with the product. I won't espouse on the issues of football in the UK, I know virtually nothing about it. But all the marketing in the world, the best adverts, the greatest creative team, cannot make the ball go in the net on the night.

By investing in 'products' like football, which are so inconsistent, organisations are taking a huge risk. Yet they must pay off. Whether England win or lose, the support is there, so mobilising that support and aligning it with a brand (such as said car manufacturer) must have value.

But given the millions all of this costs, and the fact that the cost of just ONE premium league football player is more than is spent on research for prostate cancer (see here http://menunited.prostatecanceruk.org/), begs the question - are we not only spending our marketing money in the wrong places, but investing in the wrong things?

But that's people for you - and it's not that I don't want football or any other sport demeaned or downgraded (indeed we should invest in more for our young people), it's just I find it difficult to have a sense of proportion when it comes to the huge amounts of money spent on professional sport - probably because of the sector I work in.

Good luck England! You need the Italians to win - so no more jokes about them retreating, OK?

PS: There's been huge criticism recently of charity leaders' pay. Take a look at this - premier league pay (2011). Made me think.

Father's Day

Like many people, today I am remembering a father who passed away many years ago. He died on a cold January night, when I was only 13, of a heart attack suddenly in the night.

I wonder what I would say to him if I could see him again now? I am now older now than he was when he died - that's weird, I am older than my father.

If I could talk with him, I wouldn't tell him all the things I've done, the things I am proud of, or regret, or even that I wish I'd had a chance to share with him. I think, given a small amount of time with him, I'd like to say thank you.

The things he gave me in life were not material; he gave me a sense of humour - a sense of the ridiculous even.. He gave me a love of words; I love to play on words and meanings, very much as he did. He gave me a love of music, bringing me up on Wagner and Beethoven, Mozart and Haydn.

He also gave me the 'Sheppard nose', which is evident in generations of our family, even through to my distant cousin in Australia.

He gave me the confidence to perform, to love the stage and to be able to speak in public. He taught me how to wiggle my ears. He taught me sayings and jokes that now, listening to 1950s and 1960s radio (Radio 4 Extra), I realise were from The Navy Lark and Round The Horn. They are still funny.

Thank you dad - thank you for giving me things money couldn't buy, and precious gifts that have stayed with me for life and helped make me who I am.

And thanks mum, just in case you thought I'd forgotten your contributions. But you deserve a blog all of your own, let alone a post.

The 6th of June

Today across Europe people are remembering the great sacrifices made at the D-Day landings.

Today is the anniversary of Bobby Kennedy's death.

Today is wedding anniversary. Divorce papers are in my drawer, I just need to get a cheque off the court and we're almost there.

Today is the day I meet my new boss for the first time.

Today is my brother's birthday.

Today some people are remembering the loss of a loved one.

Today will be a joyous celebration of new birth, and of passing.

Today will be a million different things for a million different people. Today will be a good day, a bad day, a sad day, a happy day.

Today I want to thank everyone who believes in human rights, and that freedom is worth fighting for. I want to believe that extremists - whether fascist UK political parties, religious fanatics or dictators - will not win.

Happy birthday Phil.

Missing people

At a conference last week, I attended a presentation by Missing People. Even with an audience that was, in the majority, colleagues from the charity sector, the speaker presented his cause and told the story so well that many were moved. In my case, I couldn’t stop the tears. Missing People help find missing young people, adults, offer family support and work closely with the police.

Later on during the conference, I chatted with a lady (from a hospice) about how we were all impressed with Missing People. She had thought, during the talk, how difficult it must be for someone in that situation to be at the presentation.  I mentioned that I had lost touch with my own brother 22 years ago. She had been sitting next to me. At least she didn't notice me cry.

It’s a strange thing – sometimes you don’t think about it at all, at other times it’s like you only saw the missing person yesterday and still feel their presence. For me, it’s hard sometimes still, for my mother, it must be even harder.

Phil, second from right

But it must be far, far worse for those who have lost children, or teenagers. I can’t imagine losing touch with my children or the many other young people who brighten my life through them.

Missing people – it doesn’t just mean that  people have gone missing, it means that you miss them too. I miss my brother.

The service Missing People provide is confidential, they support families and individuals, the missing and the missed. They look for those who are in danger, and frequently save lives. I won’t try and tell you how exceptional this charity is – I’ll just leave you their website, and the phone number.

Missing People helpline 116 000

Missing People website http://www.missingpeople.org.uk/  

Pre-register for their child alert programme: http://www.childrescuealert.org.uk/  

And just to remind you of Melody's song about this:

First football

For years, my son and husband would  drive me from the sitting room by putting football on the TV.  But that was OK – all I needed to do was put on Monkey Business, and they left me alone too!

It’s not that I don’t like sport – I actively engage in squash, swimming, used to do karate and am a regular gym goer (OK maybe that doesn't count as ‘sport’ in the same way football does, but just so you can see I am not a couch potato). But I never really got ‘football’.

When I was a child, my father complained bitterly about football. ‘A bunch of men chasing a ball round a field, waste of time’. However, my father’s idea of a useful afternoon was watching eleven men throw a leather ball at some sticks, so it was perhaps not the most logical of arguments. Especially as he did the pools every week.

Fast forward – beyond my childhood and cricket-loving father, past my little boy and his dad hogging the TV on a Saturday – and here we are with me grown up, my son grown up, and the only football team I ever showed any vague affinity to being Norwich City.

Why? My son supports Manchester United. My ex-husband supports Tottenham Hotspur. What made me pin my rather limp flag to Norwich? Well, it’s a long story, that starts in the 1980’s with a lovely young man from Grantham, but I won’t use this post to tell that story. Because long as it is, it is rather boring.

In March 2014 Norwich City are playing Stoke.I finally get to Carrow Road. I am not here to see the football match but to collect money for the charity I work for, who are dedicating the day’s match to a past player who has been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease.

20 volunteers with 20 buckets, and a very generous public. We raised more money on that collection day than the club had ever heard of from any charity. A sign of how well-loved the football player was, and how widely dementia touches people.

At the end of the afternoon we had 20 heavy buckets to bank, and smiles all round. But… we also had three match tickets that the club had donated. Surely, now was my chance! Not only could I go to my very first football match, but I could see my ‘own team’.

I’m not that fond of large crowds, but the supporters were so excited, so poised on the brink of shouting success or distress at each turn of the ball, I couldn't help but enjoy myself. Especially when Norwich scored. My friend, a fellow volunteer, was up in her seat, cheering and shouting like a seasoned fan, though this was her first match too.

The most significant thing to me was how different football is live, compared to on the TV. I have been to schoolboy matches, of course (where some of the screaming and language would have put the most profane to shame), but this was live, grown-up, Premiership football.

I thoroughly enjoyed myself, as did my friends, and was carefully taken through the finesse of the moves in the match through a helpful fellow volunteer that I sat next to.

Shall I go again? Probably not, but at least I can cross it off my list of things that I haven’t done, but might quite enjoy.  I think I'll try blo-karting next.

Double dip doesn't always mean recession

Get qualified

I have been a marketer almost all my career, yet I got my first fully fledged direct marketing qualification from the Institute of Direct Marketing after I hit 50.

I have enjoyed a varied career so far including retail marketing, business to business and charity/higher education fundraising. So why the IDM, and why at this point in my career? 

Why wait so long?

I did most of a CIM Diploma in the 90s but didn’t complete due to a life change (babies). It wasn’t so much ‘waiting’ to get the qualification, as doing what I needed, when I needed it. The CIM Diploma course gave me a good all round general marketing background, which suited my early career.  When my new job demanded a much higher competency in direct marketing, it made sense for both me and my employer for me to get qualified.

Been there, done that

I was in a class full of younger marketers who, though university qualified and expert in their current jobs mostly did not have the breadth of experience I did (due to the advantage of age). I had to be careful not to give an example for every single case study or scenario – quite simply because I really had ‘been there, done that’; but it didn’t mean I’d been there perfectly, and done it perfectly.

There’s no doubt about it, learning when you are older is tougher, and when you have an extremely busy job (oh, and a strategic review as well), it’s harder to juggle the work and study load. Not being based in London, like the majority of fellow students, was also a disadvantage for group work. No after work catch ups with the rest of the gang in London bars for me... alas.

Was it worth it?

Beware the marketer who knows it all. I worked in computing in the 1980s, when the idea of a ‘desktop Cray’ was a revolutionary concept. (You can probably fit the same computing power on a mobile phone these days.) Technology has changed, marketing channels have changed, and even behaviours have changed (multiple touch points, for starters).

By undertaking an up to date relevant marketing qualification, I didn’t just update my knowledge technologically and in today’s market place, but I learned more about the direct marketing techniques that I already use. I got the improved results I was looking for, and my employer expected.  

What next?

Given the opportunity, I would like to convert my Diploma to a Masters, but I have instead opted to take another Diploma - this time from the Institute of Fundraising. Not only will it enhance my direct marketing skills in the sector, but will broaden my expertise in areas that I have hitherto only touched on.  And if I complete it, I'll be a double Dip!

Completing the IDM Diploma most certainly has given me a taste for formal learning that I thought had left me many years ago and I intend to continue my personal professional development right up until I retire. There is no reason whatsoever to stop trying to get better at what I do, and I enjoy it.

Links:

Institute of Direct Marketing Diploma in Direct and Digital Marketing

Chartered Institute of Marketing

Institute of Fundraising

My LinkedInpage

A weekend in Rome

In September I visited York and enjoyed a fascinating hour at the Roman Bath (underneath the public house of the same name) listening to a history PhD student talk about Costantine, Maximus, and even how the Bible was brought together. I also learned that the hot baths they had - the sweat houses - helped reduce internal parasites.

I have always been fascinated by ancient history so after my short visit to York (and I've been to Bath very often as well) I was all fired up for a visit.

 Rome! Gladiators, emperors, and orgies. Well, maybe not quite what I had planned, but certainly part of the story of this amazing city.

What intrigued me was how much was still intact, or still around even if in ruins. The ancient architecture is integral to the city. You can sit on a plinth that probably held up the statue of a Roman god, you can run your fingers across the cool marble of a pillar that has stood for two thousand years - and that's just walking down the street.

I could diarise our weekend - a long wait for a non-appearing bus from the airport, the first night visit to the small church to watch small ballet and opera, the constant charging around to visit one or another of the wonderful sites, and the amazing restaurant recommended by our quaint little hotel. We visited the Vatican, saw the Sistine Chapel (worth it!) and enjoyed mild weather and copious rogue salesmen.

But all I need to do, really, is show you. My recommendation for Rome is to go... you will not regret it.

The Coliseum

Statue from the top of one of the more modern monuments

Palatine Hill

Titus' Arch

Palatine Hill

Don't ask for a light in Rome...

Ballet

Opera

St Peter's Square

St Peter's, looking down from the gallery

Little statue by Michaelangelo

All photos are my copyright. For more, visit my Flickr site. http://www.flickr.com/photos/8100559@N04/

In a pigeon-hole

Am I ‘rock ‘n roll’ or ‘flat cap’? Or even M&S slippers? An article in Marketing Magazine the other week talked about the ‘baby boomers” – those born between 1946 and 1964 (which includes me). We also have Generation X, and Generation Y.  The younger generations – again pigeon-holed and, no doubt, stereotyped for their behaviour and purchasing habits.

That made me think. Do I fit the stereotype for a baby boomer? Will I behave as anticipated according to the UK marketing analysts? The answer, though it galls a little, is probably ‘yes’.

I’m a bit rock ‘n roll and a bit slippers, so if marketers can work that out, then what is directed at me is going to hit with sufficient accuracy as to occasionally highlight something I may actually be interested in. And I might buy/subscribe/donate.

Am I happy in my pigeon-hole? I do not respond well to anything to do with soap operas or beauty products which may be appropriate for a ‘woman of my age’. I would like to remove myself from that demographic niche, but it isn’t that simple (yet).But other than that, yes, being in a pigeon-hole is great, as long as I’m a pigeon.

As a marketer, I send information to people who match the demographic and ‘look alike’ profile of people who have already demonstrated an interest in what I am marketing. I pick a pigeon-hole I’ve found pigeons in before. If I were looking for ducks, I’d look in the pond (as long as it wasn’t polluted of course).

Even the TV - a ‘mass marketing’ media - thinks about its pigeons. You won’t spot a nappy advert in the middle of a major football match, but you might get men’s aftershave during a soap opera (remember, the target audience isn’t always the consumer, it’s the purchaser too).  

I like marketing – not just because it’s my job. I like it because you can do it well, and you can target audiences and (most of the time) make sure you send them something that is likely to appeal. You can get feedback on what you are doing and improve things. You can, according to your sector and products, help people find something they want or need.

So here I am in my pigeon-hole, and I’m happy knowing that amongst the things that are brought to my attention, there’s some serious pigeon fodder. Marketing may not be a perfected art, but the better we do it, the less likely we are to send the flat cap and rock ’n roller an ad for Classic FM.

I fully expect, of course, a flat-capped wearing, rock ‘n roll loving pigeon fancier to respond saying they love Classic FM.  After all, we’re all individuals. And that makes marketing even more fun!

Liked this post? You may also like: Direct Musketeers

Photocredits: Woodpigeon: RSPB, Duck Canoe Foundation

Taking a proper gander

Taking a ‘proper gander’ is to take a really good look. But ‘propaganda’ is, if anything, implying that what you see is diffused, distorted, or even disingenuous.

On Tuesday I went to London with a friend and, before enjoying ‘Woman in Black’ at the Fortune Theatre, we went to the British Library and visited ‘Propaganda, power and persuasion’.  From origins (anti-papist cartoons, even Egyptian monoliths) through war (I was hugely impressed with some early animation from WWI) via health and all the way up to today. Propaganda is part of our lives.

The leaflet that accompanies the exhibition has a ‘user’s guide to basic techniques’. Just in case you fancied overthrowing a government, or establishing a new religion perhaps... in fact, when I looked at the basic techniques, they are so much a part of my world that it was just a little bit scary.

Here are the British Library’s basic techniques, and my interpretation of how I encounter them:

1. Establish authority

I’m a manager – if I had no authority, I couldn't manage or lead my team.

2. Exploit existing beliefs

We live in a world surrounded by social, religious and moral beliefs, behaviours and mores. I need say no more – just watch the news.

3. Appeal to patriotism

Before we go down the dangerous nationalist route, I only need think about the work I do every day which talks about how a disease affects hundreds of thousands of people in our country, impacting our economy and our lives. I probably wouldn't get very far on the basis that the disease affects far more people (over 5 million) in the US.

4. Create fear

Fear is a key motivator in advertising. Brush your teeth regularly with ‘Wonderpaste’ so you don’t get gum disease and lose all your friends...

5. Use humour

I'm sure you can come up with plenty of examples, but to give you a hint, look at any of the newspapers and you will find cartoons of politicians, celebrities, business leaders...

6. Imply everyone agrees

Or every cat, or at least 8 out of 10 cats...

7. Disguise the source

Friend of a friend strikes again... social media is wonderfully rife with stories and scares and outrage and you believe it because your friends told you so. Trace the source of some of these stories and, if you had known the origins in the first place, you would not have paid the slightest bit of attention to the issue.

8. Hammer it home

As we say in advertising, tell them once, tell them again, then tell them you’ve told them.

9. Make false connections

For this one I’ll repeat what the BL say: “Start with an uncontested statement and link it with something more controversial. Many people will not notice that there is no logical link between the two.”

10. Be selective about the truth

90% of women in our survey loved it... we surveyed 10 women. One of them thought it was absolutely disgusting.

11. Establish a leadership cult

Watch out Simon Cowell... for as leaders rise, so do they fall. Sadly, in my opinion, leadership cults (and celebrities are leaders) are the motivating factor for millions of people. Beware the feet of clay.

I loved the exhibition – from the cartoon of the pope as a bizarre mythological creature through to the 80s TV advert about AIDS – propaganda isn’t a word, it’s an intrinsic part of our everyday lives.

Links:

British Library – Power and Propaganda

Disney WWII propaganda cartoon (not featured in exhibition)

Wikipedia definition of propaganda 

Acting my age

What does it mean when someone says 'act your age'? Is it a criticism implying that you are behaving badly? Possibly. But then, what is actually acting your age - fitting into a stereotype that was set by others, at another time, in another context?

Blow that for a game of soldiers.  This year I am rapidly approaching the grand old age of 53 and I have felt no urge whatsoever to wear floral print, thick stockings and beige cardigans. Oh, hang on, I do wear beige, but more along the lines of 'wannabe safari explorer' than zippered cardigan or sensible waterproof jacket.

So how do I act my age? I'm not sure. Take my week so far...

Monday night - The Full Moon Party.

• Drive an hour or more after work into the Suffolk countryside
• Get lost - find a pub and find local who knows exactly where I am supposed to be
• Meet with a childhood pal, a number of interesting artists, sculptors and a neurological psychologist (who used to live in Totteridge Lane, across the road from where I also lived in a past life)
• Make pizza using host-prepared dough and own toppings
• Cook pizza in dragon-shaped outdoor oven
• Have in-depth conversations on dementia (unsurprisingly), the speed of the universe, psychology and probably a few other things I can't remember
• Tickle one of two six year old blond twin boys who are fascinated by the open fire
• Lose half my pizza to a Staffordshire bull terrier
• Sleep for an hour and a half in the back of my car
• Drive back home between 2 and 3am and watch the most spectacular lightning storms all the way from Thetford to Cambridge

Tuesday evening - bowls match against Great Shelford

• Finish work and change into a white polo shirt and trainers
• Walk  two hundred yards from office door to hidden bowling green (at work)
• Help set up for the match
• Get placed as number one in fourth team (playing first means your bowls are most likely to get thunked out the way during the rest of the end)
• Play average bowls (good for me) in winning rink team
• Sandwiches, drink and raffle with opposing team and team-mates in bar (also at work)

So what age am I acting - as if I were 30 years younger by staying out so late on a work night? As if I were 20 years older by playing bowls?

I don't care. I don't want to fit a stereotype, I want to enjoy life and carry on learning new things and meeting new people. But, I have to say, the 3am bed time is not something I want to do too often - especially not with work the next morning. Well, I won't - not until the next Full Moon Party, or gig, or ...

Courage and confidence, pizza and beer

On a hot, sultry Wednesday evening, I left work on time (amazing!) and met a friend at the Haymakers pub in Chesterton. Rumour had it that their pizzas were pretty good – and what better way to break up the week than a pizza and a glass of something cold with a good friend?

Arriving first I ordered a half of cider called something like ‘Pickled Piglet’. If I had drunk more than a half, I would have indeed been such! A very nice cider, dry and fruity, but not burn your throat like some scrumpies. My friend arrived and she had a Malko... something Czech. Not Malkovitch or Maldova, something in between. I could go look it up, but that’s not so much fun.

We ordered our pizzas (no mushrooms for me!) and they duly arrived folded and oiled, looking glorious as we sat in the shade of the old ash tree. A very pleasant supper. I moved on to diet coke – had to drive home and it was a ‘school night’ after all.

The conversations I have with this friend are always interesting. She is a very intelligent person and a highly talented musician. We talked about science fiction films and writing (we both know Dragon’s Egg, a superb book by Robert L Forward from 1980. I mistakenly thought it was by Theodore Sturgeon until I looked it up – but I also love Theodore's book More Than Human.) We talked about the parasitic or symbiotic nature of humanity on planet earth and whether it should – or should not – be eliminated (by nature or other means, we weren't bent on genocide ourselves, you understand).

We also talked about courage:

“I learned that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear.” Nelson Mandela

"Put 'em up..."

And then she put it in the context of confidence. Is confidence not similar? The person who is totally confident, who believes everything they say and do is right, is often perceived as arrogant (bordering on psychopathic perhaps?). 

Is confidence an act? That’s how I thought of it – that I may seem confident and outgoing, yet inside there are very different feelings and self-perceptions. So are the self-perceptions right, or is the act the reality? The conclusion from the conversation was that confidence is more like courage.

“Confidence is not the absence of doubt, but the triumph over it. The brave person is not the one who is always confident, but one who goes ahead and follows what they believe, despite their doubts".

Well, that’s kind of what we came up – though I didn't have Nelson’s quote to crib from.

The outcome is that I am feeling more confident as a result of one conversation. Because I can be what I appear to be, and I understand that – as my training colleagues often used to say – showing some vulnerability is not a bad thing, it actually reveals humanity. Being me maybe isn't so bad.

You don’t have to be superman/woman/child - not unless you really want to wear your pants outside your trousers.

Acknowledgements: Cowardly Lion from MGMs 'The Wizard of Oz'