Kackle Kackle

Kackle Kackle: Happy Anniversary Page Three?

2010-11-20T10:38:00.000-08:00

Kackle Kackle: Happy Anniversary Page Three?

Happy Anniversary Page Three?

2010-11-20T10:32:00.000-08:00

Today, 20^th November 2010 is the 40^th anniversary of the page three model in the Sun, and it got me wondering what that says about our society that our best selling newspaper still trades on topless female models.

I can remember back in the eighties trying to strike a blow back for women by having one of the first saucy calendars of male models in my office but feeling somewhat embarrassed by its presence when older male members of my team joined me in the office and so eventually took it home. I have since enjoyed other similar excursions with a little more courage but frankly a calendar with beautiful scenery, of the non-human variety, inspires me more.

There have been one or two items on Radio 4 about this anniversary, not least on Woman’s Hour, where the debate has not reached any satisfactory conclusion for either side. I do not disagree that it is great to live in a society where women feel able to confidently use their bodies in a way that makes them feel empowered; but that same society will not legalise prostitution and allow it to come out of the hands of the, generally male, pimps and seamy underworld.

To me a topless model appearing on a daily basis in a popular newspaper is a way of keeping women ‘in their place’ in much the same way as, I believe, the Burka and possibly more so as it exploits the female form. It positions women as a commodity and it is that which makes me feel uncomfortable. Because it is in the most popular daily paper it takes a message into the homes of young families and sets a tone for how women are perceived very early on in some young children’s lives.

As humans I believe we each have the right to be treated with dignity and respect. I find it very hard to believe that men who leer at women in a newspaper on the way to work will treat them as equals once they cross the threshold of the office. In the time the page three model has been around women have achieved a great deal in the workplace but are still under represented in the boardroom, parliament and even in senior managerial positions in industries that are dominated by female staff. Equality has a long way to go.

I know of friends who use their feminine attributes to distract the hapless male in the workplace and I confess I may even have engaged in a little of that activity myself at one time. So perhaps we are just as guilty, if a little more subtle, of trying to keep the men in ‘their place’?

Am I just a bitter old crone? Does anyone agree with me? Have a missed something somewhere along the line? Feel free to put me right; but if you agree with me, tell me that as well.

I rather enjoyed that...

2010-08-06T12:05:00.000-07:00

A couple of days away without the two most demanding males in my life – son and border collie – was ‘just the job’ as the one I allowed to accompany would say. We headed off to Whitby for a couple of days aimless wandering, sitting in pubs and eating good food.

We stayed at a delightful B&B – Autumn Leaves - just five minutes amble from the centre of town, albeit a bit testing on the way home as the hills was a bit steep, but not as steep as Steep Hill here in Lincoln. We had a lovely room with stacks of space and nice touches like buttered scones and jam in the room when we returned from ambling. Also, there was a garage in which to put the treasured Boxster.

One of the high spots came early on in the break when we enjoyed a splendid meal on the first night at Green’s, a bistro style restaurant where the boats and skippers that delivered the ingredients for our meal were listed on the menu and chalkboard. If you enjoy fresh fish prepared in an imaginative way then this is the place to eat. We were lucky to get a table, as we had not pre-booked; consequently, we were sat just by the kitchen. This kept hubby entertained as he watched the frenetic activity of the Chef and his assistant – don’t think he was fascinated enough to take up cooking himself though.

The following day was spent wandering from beach to beach in the Boxster then we abandoned it in its garage in the afternoon and went for a pint or three – not done that at that time of day for a while now. During this spot of R&R we got talking to a couple from Wolverhampton similarly escaping parenthood for a few days, clearly a lot of it about!

food of the gods....

2010-07-30T09:06:00.001-07:00

I confess, I love my food and I delight in food that is everyday fare produced and served in an exceptional way. Today I had one of those experiences.

Fish and chips can be mediocre, sometimes it can be very disappointing and a source of digestive problems. But a plate of perfectly prepared and cooked fish and chips, with mushy peas and white bread and butter is the food of the gods. Today I had just such a plate at Bardney Heritage Centre. Yes, a little tea room and haunt of steam train geeks at the end of the cycle path from Lincoln is an oasis. A rare treat in this fine county where, to be honest, fish and chips is rarely done well.

We chose to drive there, that was because Mum was with us and I don't have a means of attaching her wheelchair to my bike - nor am I ever likely to before some wag sends me details of how to do this. It is very easy to find as you come over the bridge into the village. Friday and Saturday lunchtime is the time to go (or they now do a take away service on the same evenings). It is well worth the trip. Mum managed to establish they use fizzy water in the batter but there was definitely more to it than that. They use very fresh fish, succulent and pure white; and the chips are peeled and cut by hand on the day so are all sorts of funny shapes and sizes but they are real!!! A fabulous treat - and I indulged in a chip butty :)

It's only Rock and Roll

2010-06-06T11:07:00.000-07:00

Those of you who follow my facebook posts will know I have been following the Rock and Roll Band series on BBC2. The series finale was a viewers vote from the top three nominations in each category of best band, lead guitarist, drummer, bass player and of course lead singer. The top three came from the online vote, which selected from a top ten chosen by music industry experts.

The event itself led to some fairly heated debate both on the show and on facebook - what actually is Rock and Roll? Those already collecting their pensions for some years now will hark back to the early days of 50s rock and roll - Bill Hayley and His Comets, Elvis Presley, Eddie Cochrane, and so on whereas the folks just starting out on their pensions will be drawn to The Beatles, The Rolling Stones and The Who. Those moving towards pensionable age might favour Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, Cheap Trick.... and what about the glam rockers? And the younger rockers might look to the Red Hot Chilli Peppers, Nirvana, Green Day and Kings of Leon. So what is rock and roll and how does it differ from the catch all of pop(ular) music?

For me rock and roll must have an element of danger about it – the band should not include people you would feel comfortable taking home to meet your Mum or your Gran. So, that in itself will make things different for each ‘generation’ that comes along. I am no musician, I cannot hold a tune, I cannot play a musical instrument and I have no sense of rhythm but I love to listen and enthuse, dance and sing along. And I know what I love...the drumming is very important to me, it has to excite me and the guitar playing must be skilfully executed and contain the all-important riff. The singer must be raunchy, soulful and gutsy – capable of gentle whisperings and wailing like a banshee. Showmanship should be there but understated. Everyone in the band should contribute, there should be no passengers.

So, returning to the series, I was delighted with the outcome which saw Led Zeppelin being represented in all of the categories and winning the best band accolade. I was less comfortable with Freddie Mercury being voted the best singer – I love him but in this context he is a tad too showy and where was Roger Chapman? Jimi Hendrix beat Jimmy Page to the lead guitar top spot – I can live with that and of course John ‘Bonzo’ Bonham was the drummer of choice literally beating off Keith Moon, another one who is brilliant but was just too unpredictable. I was confused by the choice of Bass player - Flea from the Red Hot Chilli Peppers, too showy for me; spare a thought for John Entwhistle and Paul McCartney or even Sting.

What does rock and roll mean to you? Who would be your choice?

this is going to hurt

2010-05-08T12:28:00.000-07:00

I actually enjoyed some exercise today and bearing in mind I was planning a day of floating in a pool and eating good food that has to be even more special.
For the last four years, me and my chum Jacqui have treated ourselves to a day at Eden Hall Health Spa. We usually do a little bit of stretching and spend a lot of time wandering round the spa area and floating in the pool. We also love to indulge in the smoothies and the excellent lunches that always leave you ready for a snooze.
In the past we have been very lucky and been there on warm sunny days so have indulged in a little sunshine – falling out of hammocks being the most arduous of the tasks we set ourselves. This year was a cold drizzly day so we spent more time inside and that’s when it got a bit hectic...
Yes, today I have exercised with a hoola hoop and pranced with pom poms. And I have had a ‘right good larf’.
While most of the hoola hoop class were learning to step to the side and twizzle with their hoops I confess I spent most of my time swearing and picking my hoop off the floor. When I did manage to get it going mine seemed to want to spin round my ample bosoms rather than round my waist, as is the more accepted method. I then developed a new technique of spinning myself round whilst hanging on to my hoop, giving it quick spin as I landed and smiling benignly at the instructor to try and cover my confusion.
The pom poms, however, were another matter; we thought we were in for a touch of dance aerobics – not my forte as I have two left feet and no sense of rhythm or direction but Jacqui likes the ritual humiliation as she is quite a good dancer. In fact, we found ourselves in a cheerleader’s class. Actually, the pom poms were a saving grace as I found if I shook them vigorously and whooped loudly I could hide all my usual shortcomings with rhythm and the direction seemed easier if I followed my pom poms. I have sustained an injury though and have developed cheerleader’s finger – a nasty blister from spinning my pom poms too fiercely. I have to say I have not laughed so much whilst exercising for a long time, if ever.

The rest of the day then returned to normal I am glad to say – float, steam, wallow, eat, snooze, float, steam, wallow....
I am now living on fear that my chum will be purchasing hoola hops and pom poms for the start for the barbeque season – mind you with a glass of wine in each hand maybe I will master the art of hoola hooping!
Tomorrow promises to be painful.........

Exercise your choice....

2010-04-05T01:09:00.000-07:00

The election has not actually been declared yet but it is only a matter of hours before the starting pistol is fired for the official campaigning to begin. I just hope folks are not sick of it already.
The clear blue water between the main Parties is almost non-existent so we will have to recall our history to help inform our decisions on polling day or try to pick our way through the rhetoric. The televised debates may help, but let’s be honest so much of that will be a beauty contest, as we listen with our eyes not our ears. Moreover, much like the first of these (Ask The Chancellors) the words will be so bland the only Party able to be robust and take risks will the one with least chance of forming a Government.
My parents generation of voters – yes there are some left, will remember the Wilson years and fear the worst, my generation will recall Thatcherism and (hopefully) shy away from the greed and selfishness of those years. And today’s young people will judge the Blair years - an era of spin and a war we followed as America’s poodle.
Whatever your political views I urge you to exercise your choice.

We adults have not all had the right to vote for that long - 1928 saw women achieve equal rights to vote following a campaign in which a number lost their lives for the cause. So, don’t stay at home go and cast a vote of some sort, exercise real choice – it is apathy that allows extremists to get in, then we will have something to moan about.

2010-03-29T06:39:00.000-07:00

So how are we preparing the youth of today to be the PRs of tomorrow? Particularly bearing in mind that many of the tutors of today are the PRs of yesterday... and bearing in mind that the advent of Web 2.0 sees PR changing faster than it has for very many years! Emily Cagle, PR consultant and entrepreneur recently posed this question to me and, as ever, I had a few thoughts...
At the University of Lincoln we are a small but beautifully formed team of ex-practitioners and academics setting PR in the business context alongside Marketing, Advertising, occasionally Management or HR and even less occasionally Journalism. Our purpose is to give students a solid academic grounding in their chosen subjects but with a practical dimension to give that added extra to their employability. To this end we encourage them to get as much paid or unpaid work experience as they can find and to develop a portfolio of work they can show off to potential employers.
Increasingly we are encouraging students to develop this portfolio online in the form of blogs and integrated web pages taking advantage of Twitter, Facebook and LinkedIn used appropriately – Facebook is very much the ‘Uni life’ and softer side of the portfolio! So, we are inviting our protégés to embrace Web 2.0...and then explain it to us! The portfolio may also be a repository for some of their assignments for example in their studies of Managing PR the assignment is a blog about developing team working skills and a reflection on how the individual has learned about their own strengths and weaknesses as a team player. As part of PR for organisational communications part of the task is to develop a real campaign for an organisation of their choice – a charity or voluntary group – and to get as much of it implemented as possible.
But of course this is just part of the picture, it’s getting those blogs and pages noticed that will count. ‘Behind the Spin’ the Chartered Institute of Public Relations student online publication provides a great outlet for the students to write about their experiences, review books and observe about developments in PR. Recent contributors from Lincoln have attracted comment from far and wide resulting in offers of help with their careers and even jobs. Subjects have included a discussion of the role of Twitter in crisis communications and aspects of the debate between students from different schools at the University – is PR killing Journalism? One book review by a Lincoln student prompted the book’s author to make contact and another student’s observations about a PR campaign to stamp out spamming in PR attracted interest from the campaign manager.
Dissertations form a critical part of the final year of study and students are encouraged to explore something new. This year social media is a popular subject including its role in the workplace as an internal communications tool, its impact on music PR as well as the afore mentioned crisis management. The students are developing a wealth of original thought and creating new angles on old models such as the popular Grunig and Hunt four models of communication (Managing Public Relations,1984).
So, to return to the question, I guess the students are preparing themselves very well and in true academic style we are guiding them to think independently, take risks and try new ideas in a safe environment. I am confident, therefore, that tomorrow’s PR specialists and thought leaders will be able to shift and change to meet their clients’ needs and provide wise counsel to ensure PR objectives are fully integrated into a powerful package of communications using the most appropriate tools and techniques from the ever expanding kit bag.

It’s been a while ....but I've finally cracked

2010-03-07T12:23:00.000-08:00

I am determined not to blog for the sake of it, so that’s why I have not written for a while. I guess you could say I am taking a leaf out of one of the current debates around PR and journalism and not spamming myself into oblivion.

PR and journalism are, as I have often said, two sides of the same coin. We need each other. But the arrogance of some journalism colleagues leaves me wondering if they understand this. There are some very bitter and twisted souls out in the world of journalism – or should I say about to launch themselves on that world.

PR folk need to be mindful of what journalists do and journalists need to appreciate the role of PR in this world. PR exists to promote its subject matter, journalists are there to put balance into the story and check the other side. Sometimes there will be a negative aspect to the story but there will be times when it genuinely is all good news! It is not a battle, and it should not be personal. We are each doing our job to the best of our ability.

I am hopeful that the distasteful world of ‘spin’ is on the way out and PR is about to embark on a brave new world of real engagement with the publics. Why do I say this? Well the advent of social media, the influence of the citizen journalist and the power of the individual to publish their thoughts to the world as they ‘click a little button’ means PR must listen as well as inform and PR must respond constructively.

Spring is well and truly in the air so maybe PR and journalism can bury the hatchet as the snowdrops nod in the breeze and daffodils push through the frozen earth. The sunshine of the last few days must surely be capable of lifting the spirits of even the most embittered PR or journo?

A vexed question....

2009-11-04T08:55:00.000-08:00

It’s that time of year when the classes start to settle down and I can see who is likely to succeed and who needs a kick up the proverbial! The trouble is I am talking about young adults who should be taking responsibility for their own futures – I am not their mother, their nursemaid or their boss. I am someone who, from time to time, tries to impart bits of knowledge and inspire them to look further at their chosen subject – you could say I am the supplier of a service. This brings me to the real point of today’s missive...the vexed question of tuition fees and the impact they have on the relationship between tutors and students.
Now I must put up a health warning here, the thoughts expressed are those of the author alone and do not reflect university policy or even the opinion of my colleagues – I have not really talked to them about their views. As ever these words are the ravings of yours truly, fuelled tonight by camomile tea.
I come from the generation who did not face tuition fees but had the luxury of a grant – albeit means tested against parents’ income. I went to a girls’ grammar school and it is important to note that not everyone expected a university education. Only the very best would end up at university, the next tier might go to a polytechnic or teachers training college and others might find themselves training at one of the London teaching hospitals to become a nurse. The idea behind grants was to make it easier for anyone to go to university but it is fair to say it was not easy for the working classes to enjoy the privilege of a university education for a whole range of reasons. Anyway the point is that in those ‘olden days’ the relationship between the higher education establishment and the student was much more like that between school and pupil today. I can remember having to go and see the Principal of my college to seek permission to go home a week early because my Mum was in hospital and my Dad needed me to go home and run the house - the conversation did not go well for reasons of education and feminist ideology, but I did get my week off.
Today the students pay a fee to attend university, it does not cover the full cost of their education, but it is a contribution. This has recently caused some students at universities around the country to question what they are getting for their money – class sizes and contact time being the main issues at some of the bigger establishments. I agree this has changed the relationship to one of customer and supplier but with a big proviso, the fee is not just a monetary one.
What do I mean by that? Well, I think that students pay their fee in a number of parts. The first is the tuition fee we all know about but the other parts are less tangible. I believe the other critical parts of the transaction are to turn up to lectures and listen attentively, prepare for seminars either individually or in the relevant groups and then actively participate, read round the chosen subject according to the texts set and to find interesting material of their own and finally to submit assignments on time and completed to the best of their ability. Only when all parts of the transactions are shown to be being carried out can students start to question what they get for their fees.
Now I must close by saying I am not a fan of tuition fees. I think as a state we should pay to educate the next generation – it does mean that students who do not study would face a heightened risk being ‘slung out’ if they take the piss out of their privileged position, but that is fair enough.

Из России с любовью

2009-07-28T09:07:00.000-07:00

Just a few days spent in Moscow with a day trip out to Vladimir and Suzdal to take a look at bit of ‘normal’ Russia – time well spent?
Entering the country was a bureaucratic challenge of immense proportions. We had to fill in several forms on the flight over and passport control, took forever (it was just as bad leaving!). At the hotel we had to have the paperwork authorised so we could walk around freely. I am glad to report we were never challenged by any of the guards or police but we were rarely without our guide.
I loved Red Square, it is breathtakingly beautiful as the name implies (red means beautiful for those like me that did not realise) and the mixture of architecture just works...but I do not like Moscow, it is too big, too noisy, too busy, too arrogant. The young women all looked like footballers wives or high class hookers (OK not much difference I grant you!) and how they balanced on those heels I will never try to find out, and I include the female guards in this comment! - I know I sound like a grumpy old woman but I guess that’s what I am! The shops we came across were full of designer kitsch and bling, although I confess to dribbling with desire at many of the clothes and shoes in the GUM (pronounced ‘g-oom’) shopping precinct. The older Russian people and families visiting the city looked drab by comparison and the divide between the ‘haves’ and ‘have-nots’ was very clear.
Weddings were everywhere. The tradition is to lay flowers at the tomb of the unknown soldier in Alexander Gardens just off Red Square and to be photographed in the gardens, or in Vladimir you head to the mound outside the main Russian Orthodox cathedral that gives you views across the countryside. The young brides looked very WAG-ish (and very young) and the grooms wore good, but shiny, suits. The best man and bridesmaids were equally well-dressed (see above!) and were distinguished from other guests by a sash not unlike those you see around Lincoln’s bars on hen party night. Other members of the wedding party did not seem to have made much extra effort – other than to ensure they had copious amounts of alcohol at hand! The parents did not seem to be in evidence – whether they attended the official ceremony and post photo party who knows...there were plenty of rose petals strewn at the entrances to restaurants and cafes in the area. It seems you can get out of the army if you have two children; otherwise, I was led to believe, you serve from the age of 18 to 27 - the divorce rate is 50%.
The roads are a total nightmare. The main street that leads to Red Square is four lanes in each direction – though it seems you can personally increase this at will! There are speed limits and rules of the road but the evidence was scant. When you park you bounce the front two wheels of your imposing 4X4, Merc or Lexus up onto the nearest pavement and, if necessary, to get back into the traffic you just drive down the pavement until it is convenient to rejoin the melee. The motorway is as many as eight lanes in each direction and if you thought it was fast and chaotic in the city “you ain’t seen nothin’ yet!” There are no crash barriers and people walk across the flow of traffic. The peasants – old and young - sit by the side selling cucumbers and watermelons. There are junctions, traffic lights and regular crashes (we saw three in quick succession on the journey out of town).
Fortunately, you need not drive in Moscow thanks to the Metro. When Stalin said he wanted to build the best one in the world he wasn’t kidding. Sadly I forgot to take photos here as too much time was spent trying to make sure we ended up in the right place by cross checking the Cyrillic script against our guide’s instructions to us! It was also designed as a comfortable nuclear shelter hence the depth but the marbled halls and chandeliers were amazing. The cleanliness of the trains and passageways could teach our underground system a thing or two. In fact, everywhere we went was spotless – although some of the loos were a tad primitive!
Vladimir and Suzdal are quieter thank goodness – you can walk across the route of Trans Siberian Railway without hindrance from crossing gates (take note Lincoln station!). Vladimir is not famous for vodka as you might imagine but for exquisite glassware. Suzdal is a splendid tourist attraction where they have preserved the old wooden buildings and courtyards of the past.
Religion is gaining ground again since 1992 – makes you wonder where it hid all that time. The Russian Orthodox Cathedrals have been rebuilt or re-opened according to their previous fate under Stalin so the icons, paintings, carvings and gold abound. My neck aches from looking up at the various extravagances of the church. There are strong Italian influences in the architecture and to be honest the look is very reminiscent of most Mediterranean churches I have visited (which are not really that many, just feels like it!) but with a bit more gold and many more personal tributes – Ivan the Terrible springs to mind here.
So, after all this denial of communism we visited Lenin lying in state in his mausoleum. Bit spooky looking at the corpse of a guy about my age and wondering if he had survived what would the world be like now? We dropped by the Kremlin and saw the doors where the photo opportunities take place -another imposing piece of real estate with so many cathedrals! From there we took ourselves off to the less well-promoted Museum of Contemporary Art to get a lesson in the revolution and its legacy. Some interesting artefacts and, comparatively, a lot of space given over to Putin....
The people have embraced capitalism but do not yet have the hang of it; they are too ostentatious, flaunting their newfound wealth. The system does not take account of the elderly or infirm as yet so beggars are never far away. The older people (my generation!) gave me the impression that they miss communism in many ways. OK they did not have the choices they have today but they knew what was there was affordable and would cost the same wherever they went in the whole country. They can also teach us a thing or two about credit crunches! These people have lived through – and survived 300% and 1,000% inflation. Our guide told us her son was potty trained when nappies increased in price – overnight - by 300% and she had just run out! And she was married to a high-ranking soldier so was not one of the ‘have-nots’ by any means.

So – would I go there again? Probably not, but St Petersburg calls.
Did I enjoy the trip? Very much, as I said – Red Square takes your breath away.

oy, do you like 'ospital food?

2009-06-05T11:51:00.000-07:00

A number of things have probably raised my blood pressure to dangerous levels over the last few days and I think I should let off steam before I write the official complaint. Although the immediate sight of ‘he who thinks he should be obeyed (hbo)’ battling with the cat on his lap (Mao) that has his kitty foot on 'hbo's' IPod and the dog (Ralph) with his nose up said cat’s arse in true doggy greeting is relieving a lot of stress!!

I digress...it has been a tough few days with my Mum being taken very ill (as only an 84 year old can) on bank holiday Monday. And I guess that is what has spurred me to the main topic of my rant.

Now I am an ardent supporter of our beloved NHS – I worked within it for a few years and OK like all great institutions it has its faults and creaks in places but, on the whole, when you are in dire need it pulls out all the stops to help you. However, these last few days there is one thing that has depressed rather than angered me about this beloved regime of care.

A few years ago in a great flurry of positive PR Lloyd Grossman set about hospital food and now all the daily menus have dishes with a little chef’s hat next to key dishes designed to delight the patient. Mum is not really in the mood for food at the moment (a worry all itself but that’s the personal stuff and not for this occassion) but then again, like all sick people she needs nourishment as part of the healing process and so it should be a key part of her treatment plan. She can’t make her own choices presently but I do know the kind of food she enjoys. So pen in hand I fill in the little blocks on the menu to pick out some tasty morsels for her. Because of her current condition it is hard to find out if she enjoys my selections, but I think I know now...

Today, for a variety of reasons, I was allowed special visiting privileges and found myself at her bedside when lunch arrived. I had selected haddock with parsley sauce (and chef’s hat), peas and carrots to tempt her followed by an apple. OK the plate had exactly that order on it...but I think you know the reality. The fish was rock hard, the sauce a solid blob, the peas a dull green and shrivelled more than the majority of the patients on the ward but oh joy, the carrots looked pretty. Oh yes, the apple was a pale yellowish green and looked like the journey from France began with the Normandy landings we are currently celebrating. Needless to say the few mouthfuls I tried to get her to eat returned rapidly giving me faith that she is not completely detached from reality.

BUT HOW THE HELL WILL SHE GET BETTER IF THIS IS WHAT SHE IS EXPECTED TO EAT?

You might try to tell me today was blip but we all know it wasn’t – and anyway one of the ladies who is at the stage where she can communicate told me it was the norm – she had been made sick by the previous day’s offerings. I will have to say something but I know it won’t change much, mass catering is beyond us as a nation. My plan is to ask the Trust Board to make an unannounced visit to the wards and see if they would be willing to partake of the chef’s hat.

Watch this space for the results.

Cat and dog now asleep, ‘he who thinks he should be obeyed’ is nodding patiently.

Knowing when to stop....

2009-03-05T13:12:00.000-08:00

Careers are funny things if mine has been anything to go by. My career planning started as a small child dreaming of being a school teacher, lining up my toys for lessons each day in front of my small blackboard and making my long suffering younger and later school almost phobic cousin participate in pretend lessons during the school holidays – sorry! So, I did all the right things, work experience at my old primary school before heading off to do one of those new fangled B.Eds. Then came my first teaching practice...I HATED it! But I carried on regardless, got my degree and headed off to work in a related industry where I discovered publicity...I now know that was social marketing and Public Relations. I followed this path through a variety of roles for many happy years working long hours, enjoying myself trying to get the work life balance right when my young son asked why I couldn’t be at the school gate like other Mums and so on.
Then one day I realised I had really done enough and was no longer contributing as effectively as I used to...I hadn’t quite done a Campbell and become the story but I wasn’t doing my organisation any favours either. It took me quite a while to realise this and there was a lot of anger and heart searching on the way, a bit like going through bereavement only this time I was grieving for the person I used to be and could no longer be. It never ceases to amaze me now how much of my ‘identity’ was wrapped up in what I did each day, how much of ‘me’ was my career. I won’t bore you with the gory details of what went on and how I felt over a period of some 3 years suffice to say I can now look back with the wisdom of hindsight and wish there was a way of helping others who have reached this point but still don’t realise that.
It may be that some of these colleagues, friends - whomever - are facing a cross roads in their lives through age, health, boredom, fatigue; it doesn’t really matter. What does matter is the recognition of this point and how they eventually come to terms with it. I often remember the dreadful moment when a former boss of mine suffered a stroke in his mid forties and really struggled to come to terms with the fact that he would never return to his career as he knew it then. Very much younger than when many of us face this turning point he spent a long time in denial but eventually good sense prevailed and he realised he owed his family the respect of trying to slow down so he could enjoy more time with them rather than struggling on and shortening his life even further.
There are others who just don’t have that realisation and keep trying to return to their career, refusing to give in to whatever the circumstances might be – “I’m not going to be beaten” you hear them exclaim bravely – or is it selfishly? Let me explain my harsh statement...
The guy who has been overlooked in reorganisation after restructuring after service re-engineering becomes bitter and twisted by the perceived demotions. But he does nothing to move on either physically or mentally harms the working relationships with colleagues and former friends, puts undue pressure on his family as he slips into a black depression is no better than the people he sees as being to blame for his slide from favour. The woman whose ill health is not so bad to make the organisation pension her off but who can no longer do her job as well as she used to ends up taking advantage of her colleagues’ goodwill – while it lasts – and shortens her own life expectancy to the detriment of her loved ones is frankly, plain selfish. The leader who starts to run out of steam and coasts towards retirement avoiding innovation and change brings down their organisation or team leaving them behind the competition and ruining young careers on the way through.
These examples and many others are symptomatic of the way we fail to manage our workforce as it ages and matures. Organisations do not think about ways to make it easier for people to downshift without losing face. If we took a more constructive approach, we could help people ease into a new identity without killing them or embittering them – or their colleagues. We should allow them to support the upcoming generation of leaders and pioneers as we teach respect for the work life balance.
I can recall being enraged I was not being given the chance of the next big job even though I knew my sell by date had been reached some months earlier and my best before was fast approaching! I still had a lot to offer but not at the pace I had to work at up until then, my brain could no longer cope and that in turn caused my emotions to overrule my rational behaviour. I was irritable with my family, OK – more irritable with my family! I became paranoid with colleagues. I retreated into myself. Then I realised that status was not the be all and end all of my life that I could ask to change my lifestyle and downshift. OK financially I was in a position to pay off the mortgage so whatever happened the roof would remain over our heads but once recognised I could still be a whole person without THAT career I found a new spring in my step, my confidence returned, I became the old me – and I was comfortable with it.
So chaps – if you are feeling jaded, if you’ve had spells of ill health, if you are pissed off... stop – for all our sakes!

Letting go

2009-02-19T10:46:00.000-08:00

Half term has been very different this time with the one and only spreading his wings and heading off on a school trip. Now, he has been away on trips before but they have always been in this country and have been ‘fun stuff’. This one has been quite different, destination Poland – Krakow to be precise, and included a visit to Auschwitz. As I write I am sitting waiting for the phone call to say he has landed safely at Luton Airport and is heading back home. I wonder what he has made of it? Did it stir difficult emotions? Did he allow himself to express those feelings? Will he talk to u about it all?

The only contact we have had was to let us know he had arrived at the hotel in Krakow a few days ago and that the room was OK if a little small for him and his two room mates. Will he have eaten well? Will he have slept well? Did he have enough warm clothes (I wasn’t allowed to participate in packing!)? So many questions but I MUST resist the temptation to ask them…yes he’s a teenager and I am not allowed to ‘cross question’. I know we will hear about the interesting stuff in the fullness of time but it is so hard as a Mum not to want to know minute by minute accounts. I’ve got to get used to this as he gradually grows away from my influence...or do I mean control? The GCSEs will be taken this spring/summer and then it’s 6th form – oh yes, and he’s the oldest in his year so driving lessons are on the list for September. Something else for me to worry about.

But as I think back to when I was 16 I was doing so much more so why am I worrying? I was the youngest in my year so perhaps that was what made it different? And yes, it is different for girls. We mature differently and in different ways. The world was very different then – full of the same kinds of temptations but somehow safer, or was it? I was interested in having a good time, getting into pubs and pushing the boundaries. He is much more private and happy to be in his room communicating in this new virtual world. He is interested the political world around him, much less superficial than my teenage years. But I know he will start to go out and about on his own soon enough. He is already talking about other places he wants to visit – that scares me because I have never been a great traveller, I think I am rather like a fine wine! But I have to let him become his own person, he’s not my little baby anymore he is a young man and needs to discover things for himself…just like I did as a young woman.

Post script: He got home safe and sound full of excitement at the riots in Krakow that greeted the NATO leaders, impressed by the North Koreans he met (nicest people there Mum) and insensed by the size of Air Force One parked on the runway of the airport!

first food for thought

2009-02-02T01:17:00.000-08:00

Do I really want to blog? - I’m not sure but I think I should give it a go, after all I am sufficiently opinionated and I like to have a good rant here and there. Plus who knows, I could actually learn something if people can be bothered to join in and respond here and there. My ego is big enough but I am actually quite shy so it’ll take a while to get going methinks. I don’t like to think I have ever been one to go on and on until I have bored the audience into submission – but maybe that’s just wishful thinking on my part!

Well brace yourselves, here goes…

Just recently I have felt moved to write a letter, well actually pen the odd email (can you pen and e mail?)about ‘Master Chef’. It’s about the only reality TV I watch (granted I had a short flirtation with ‘strictly’ purely because I am a big fan of Julian Clary and just so wanted to see him continue his spats with the judges).

I thoroughly enjoy the programme and enjoy having my taste buds teased by the sight of some very interesting food – ‘TV DOESN’T COME TASTIER THAN THIS!’ But...I have increasingly become enraged by the round in the professional kitchens of those flashy restaurants. The contestants suffer in the heat and pressurised environment with ‘Chef’ yelling at all and sundry – fine, that’s what they signed up for and if they want to get ahead they’ve got to be able to take it. But…it’s the food, the waste of the food, which has got me overcooked.
OK, so the fish is just a bit off centre from the watercress garnish but it is perfectly edible.
OK, so you wouldn’t want to send it out looking a bit frayed round the edges. But…do you really have to sling it in the bin?
Surely someone could eat it? Surely the staff could have the rejects for a snack at the end? Surely the dish could be frozen and passed on as a ready meal to some deserving cause?

I guess it’s my upbringing of not wasting precious food and being made to clean my plate come what may that lies behind my fury. But I strongly feel it is obscene to sling out good quality food when there are many who will die for the want of much less. Perhaps I have got it all wrong and there are restaurants out there doing the decent thing with their rejects – but it doesn’t look good from where I sit each Monday to Thursday evening. I wonder what our campaigning Chefs like Saints Jamie and Hugh get up to at their establishments?

Right, that’s better, it’s off my chest. I promise I won’t be quite so intense each time I write. But I’ve been stewing on that one for a few episodes now. I shall mull over some more thoughts and I may just blog again soon – unless this one ends up in the bin!