The latest from the scammers

Dear Sir/Madam

We regret to inform that your Visa/Mastercard secure has been
set off because to many attendings, and we beleive that others
were ussing your details.

Please download the attach  to reactivate the account.

[I believe the correct answer to this is f*ck in the general direction of off, you miserable thieving b*stards. "Ussing" my details were they? I think not.] 

Counterfeits Revisited

You might know, but you probably don't, that in 2005 I had a book published on the reasons why people buy counterfeit goods. The world has changed a bit since then, but the counterfeiters keep getting better at it. I loathe fake stuff. I can see why people buy it, but I wouldn't want to own any of it myself. I'd feel ashamed to walk down the street knowing I was wearing or carrying an illegal copy of someone else's work.


Last week, a bunch of us were in a lovely place in Nottinghamshire, Langar Hall. It's a country house hotel with a few rooms, all of them interesting, and a great restaurant. While I was there Henry Blofeld rang up to book a room (Blowers on the blower) and I was rather distressed to find that the Milibands and I had both occupied the honeymoon suite (with a few months in between).


Paul Smith goes there too, which is why Langar Hall appears in his Mini on Location series of prints. It's that orange house beind the mini from this year's spring summer season. The hotel have a set of the bags, and I liked them so much I decided to hunt one down and buy it. I put in a bid on eBay and got one, for a fair amount of money, but not full price so I concluded that it was from someone who'd bought it at the end of the season with their staff discount.


Wrong. It turned up and I got a nasty cold feeling as I took it out of its bag. It was a fake, but a good one. The counterfeiters had taken the trouble to emboss Paul Smith's logo all over the leather, inside and out, and on the metal clips that held on the shoulder strap. But the inside pocket zip wasn't reinforced with leather, the lining is cheap and nasty, the straps are synthetic not leather, the strap loops aren't riveted, the top zip has only one end, there was no luggage tag, and the zip collapsed on first try. It wasn't even the same model as the one in the picture. I was feeling pretty idiotic. When I checked the listing I saw that the seller doesn't accept returns, so I was ready to report him.


All the same, I decided to give him a second chance. I contacted him and told him it wasn't the bag in the picture and that he had been sold a counterfeit so perhaps he would like to exchange it for the one shown. I was sure there wouldn't be a reply, but he wrote back and said he would refund me if I returned it. So far he hasn't given me the address, but when (if) he does, I'll send it back recorded and await my refund.


I was pretty keen to report him to eBay, but since he's appearing to make amends, I'll give him the benefit of the doubt at first. But then if he tried to relist it, the wrath will be released and I'll be down like a ton of bricks. Perhaps he was genuinely duped himself. Or perhaps he thought no-one would notice. We'll see.


I did think of cutting my losses and sending the fake to Paul Smith HQ so they could see what was out their trashing their brand. I called customer serivices and got a recorded message of Paul that said I would be transferred to someone soon, then I got the same message again, and again, and again and I gave up.


So what do you think? I'll let you know what happens next.

The Faith Machine

We were at the theatre last night; it had been a long day (up early to go to Nottingham and back) and the play was two hours and forty minutes so I was expecting to fall asleep. Didn't. The Royal Court is an actory place. Once I was sitting next to Alfred Molina (the time his phone rang and played Dance of the Sugarplum Fairy in the second act of Enron) and the last time we were there Alan Rickman was standing at the bar scrutinising his drink as if it were one of Potter's B-minus potions. This time we had one actor, someone I'd last seen as one of Brookside's smarter residents, standing at the front of the stalls and surveying the audience just to check who'd recognised him.

It's a great place. The food's good and it's on Sloane Square right next to the tube station. The auditorium is intimate and comfortable and it's off the usual tourist map. They do really need a good plumber though. Everything leaks in the ladies' loo.

But let's consider the play, why don't we?

I don't think it's supposed to be about a selfish, selfrighteous beautiful young woman who does absolutely everything own her way, and makes everyone around her feel low, small and humiliated. I think it's supposed to be about a campaigning, dedicated, pure-hearted woman who does everything in her power to make the world a better place, and occasionally makes the odd mistake. Two characters come on doing that ridiculous  "I-am-an-actor-taking-my-place-before-I-start-acting" walk, then we open as she selflessly/selfishly storms out on the man she loves because he's taken an advertising job for what is clearly an unethical drugs company instead of devoting his life to writing his novel, and to her. We lightly skip over how he didn't have to earn a living as she could have supported him with her inheritance - but doesn't.

She marries a man she doesn't love, and he knows it, making three of them miserable.

Then there's her dad, the bishop, who resigns over whether or not Christians should approve of homosexuality. We sort all that out in a debate between him and his African colleague. There's their gay friend, who gets married, and the reformed Russian prostitute who does the cooking and cleaning at the Bishop's place in Greece. That's the light relief.

I don't think we're supposed to see her as an irritating obnoxious woman, who's so beautiful and passionate that she gets away with it. I think we're supposed to see a beautiful, passionate woman with a burning need to help those less fortunate than herself. I just thought it was a pity that she didn't acknowledge the common or garden needs of the people who love her. Compassion begins at home.

Anyway, I thought she was a right bitch. Do see it. And please disagree.

Moving Out

Hello,
The 4160Tuesday movement has its own home. We decided to buy instead of renting, so please come to visit:
www.4160Tuesdays.com.
See you soon.

How've you been?

I really think we should be hibernating. Winter is not meant for working, but working's what I've been doing.
So I've missed a few Tuesdays. Not in the real world of course. Nope, I've been working.

We found that our house wasn't earthed, and I wanted to pay the wonderful electrician for all the work he did to deprive our home of its ability to kill us at any given time. I had to go out and earn that. Also I'd splashed out on stuff I needed to complete projects, like perfumery materials and wool (different projects, obviously, or maybe not), and to replace things that fell to bits like washing machines and socks. The result was that I had to give up my life-changing - and hibernating - time to earn my keep.

To be fair, when I go out to work I get to think, have ideas, write, or train other people to write better. It could be worse.I usually relish the chance to do a bit of writing training, but when some of those people are in the room against their will because they are unhappy with their jobs, running a workshop can be like six hours of swimming through mud. At the end I feel like I need to be plugged into a recharger for a week and a half.

So it made me think, after working for a couple of weeks with people who don't enjoy their work, how outstandingly lucky I am to have got to a place in life where I can do things I love - mostly. I've been a council gardener, worked in media planning at an ad agency, sold space in a newspaper (but not enough of it), played in bands, taught yoga and been paid for writing about handmade soap. It's led to a working life I enjoy: thinking, advising people on their businesses (and I really love that), having ideas, writing and teaching.

Today, I got a new book. It's called Job Hunting 3.0 and it's by Richard Maun, who I met at a little do for authors. I don't want a job, not exactly, but I do want to keep working freelance with nice people and it's got many a handy hint that will help me do the preparation for my meetings with them. (I went to one last week, and I was so out of practise, and so tired after the mud-swimming, that I was useless!) So in a roundabout kind of way, I'm recommending that if you don't like your job,you buy this book, study it and go find a new one that you do like. If you know people who don't like their jobs, get it for them for Christmas. That way, when I go out to run a writing workshop, I'll be more likely to meet people who really want to be there.

 I hope you're happy in your working life this week, that you've left a bit of space for diong something unusual, and that if you don't love what you do, you'll consider taking a leap in a positive direction. And now, I'm going to wrap myself in thick woollies and get back to my hibertation.

Two's Company, Three's a Team

Here's a theory about the creative process. It involves three different abilities. One person might have two or all three of them, or you might need several people for just one of the essential triad, but it goes like this:
1. Someone to have the idea.
2. Someone to turn the idea into a practical blueprint.
3. Someone who can follow the instructions and make it real.
If you just have ideas nothing happens. That's one of the reasons that you can't patent an idea. You get lots of people complaining that they thought of something first and now someone else is making money out of it. Tough. If you don't get parts two and three organised, your grand idea stays imaginary and someone else takes the credit.
If you can translate ideas into a plan, then you're on your way.
Then you've got to find someone with the practical skills to turn it into something that others can experience.
Artists do all three. Think of singer-songwriters or painters. Part one can be a creative team, or an individual, part two can be your reliable backroom support team: architects, pattern drawers; sketch artists. Part three could be a symphony orchestra or a building contractor or a team of embroiderers.
I realise that it's not the world's most earth-shattering creative endeavour, but I've been working on socks. I knew what they wanted to look like, knitted four pairs before I got them perfect and have now written down the pattern so that everyone else can knit them too, if they've got the part three knitting skills.
How does it work with you? Are you best at one part of the process? Are you looking for someone who can do the other bits? It's something to think about when you're making your ideas real.

Q&A: Changing minds with language

People don't like to complain. No-one wants to be thought of as someone who makes a fuss. For a few years now I've been suggesting to people that we shouldn't think about complaining, but to remind ourselves that we are reporting a problem. Organisations who hear about a problem should thank the people who let them know about it, go off and fix it and be grateful for the advice.
If you smell gas in the street, you call the emergency number and report the leak. The gas men come and fix it; it saves money - all that costly gas floating off into space - and it means that nearly buildings are less likely to ignite. Everyone wins. Imagine we called it "complaining about a gas leak" instead of "reporting a gas leak". People would no longer think if it as a public duty, but something they didn't want to do in case they were classed as moaners.

You can do that with language.

Think for a moment about NGOs, non-governmental organisations. Things like the Big Lottery Fund, the Sports Council, The New Economics Foundation, the Joseph Rowntree Trust, organisations that get useful things done.

Then think about Qangos, those cash-frittering, unaccountable think-tanks that were the bane of late 20th Century life, which we thought had disappeared. No-one knows what they are or what they do. So if David Cameron wants to get rid of them, what could possibly be wrong with that? But why haven't we heard anything about them for 20 years?

David Cameron worked in PR; the man is self-winding spin doctor. He's taking NGOs, putting the Q&A back on the front and making the institutions that currently organise a lot of his Big Society sound as if they are wasting public money. A Qango is a Quasi-Autonomous Non-Govermental Organisation. He's trying to make NGOs sound useless by renaming them, taking an old term of abuse and applying it to justify cutting them to save taxes.

But quite a few of the ones he wants to get rid of don't use public money; some of them are profitable. The British Film Institute is one. The Heritage Lottery Fund is funded by - no prizes for guessing - the National Lottery, not taxes. Nope. Chinless porridge-faced Dave is cutting (qa)NGOs because they aren't run by exclusively by his mates. Look closely at his proposals, then be outraged. Then do something. Look up the NGOs that affect your own life in a good way. Think what would happen if they disappeared. Write to your MP.

Cut the Capitals. Do Good Things.

On days when you think the world is all falling to bits and no-one is trying to fix it, go to see Ted. Pick a lecture and watch it. Each of their speakers is extraordinarily bright, positive, interesting and reassuring, in that you find out that someone is indeed working on fixing the problems we think everyone has forgotten about.

Last week I watched Nic Marks' talk about the Happy Planet Index, and as a result I joined his organisation, the New Economics Foundation, "economics as if people and the planet mattered". One of their suggestions is that in order to measure a country's success we ought not to look at growth or how rich everyone is, we ought to measure how happy the people are, measured against ecological sustainability. Using the HPI, Africa and the USA come out terribly. Latin America is miles ahead of the rest of the world. (Costa Rica wins.) Go visit and find out.

Coincidentally, I met a friend of mine last week at a do and found out that she works not far from me now, in the CSR department of a big multinational company.
"Let's get together one lunchtime," I said, and her brows furled.
"One evening?" I said.
"That would be better, because we don't really do lunchtimes," she said.

Now 'scuse me, but CSR stands for corporate social responsibility. I've long had a thing about CSR. I think that as soon as you reduce it to an abbreviation, and give it to a department to take care of, then it stops being a real responsibility for the company, and becomes the small place where you get to spend your tax deductible charity budget and make your organisation look as if it's behaving ethically. I was at a fundraising lunch given by Breast Cancer Care one day, expressed this view to the woman sitting next to me (from a huge UK retailer) and got a wry smile.
"Don't tell me! You work in the CSR department," I said.
"Yes, she said, "But I agree with you."

So what we end up with is a slight nod in the direction of doing some good things - because that's what corporate social responsibility is supposed to be about - while the rest of the organisation goes about the daily business of making masses of cash for the shareholders which, according to the New Economics Foundation's research, is pretty much guaranteed to make everyone concerned less happy sooner or later.

We know that volunteering makes people happy, and yet big organisations with their relatively large CSR budgets don't want happy staff; they want profitable staff. They're content to give money to charities so that someone else can do their social responsibility for them, but they still treat their own people like caged hamsters.

Let's dump the abbreviation, and even the silly name: corporate social responsibility. That only got invented so that it sat nicely on the agenda with financial reporting structures or management information systems or customer relationship marketing. Call it doing good things. Then do some. Start by giving your own staff enough time to take a walk, read a book and eat their lunch somewhere away from their own desks.

Hot Air, on the inside

I don't like putting the heating on. I like it when it warms the house up, of course, but I don't like to think that I'm spending money or using up the world's piffling gas resource, so I had an idea.
It's not a new idea, it's a recycled one. This is a good thing.
If you'd like to know the whole story, and get the instructions, then you go visit 4160Tuesdays' sister blog at http://5degreewoolly.blogspot.com.
The long and the short of it (and the thick of it) is that if you take all the spare yarn you can get your hands on, and a huge pair of needles, you can create a piece of clothing that's 5 degrees warmer on the inside than the out. Use your body to generate your own little micro-heating plant, and turn the heating down. I finished this one earlier this week. It's time the British got back into the habit of saying. "It's a bit chilly, I'll put another layer on," instead of heading off to the thermostat, don't you think?

Here's another plinker for you

This woman completely misses the parking space and plinks herself down on the hatched area which Waitrose have put there so people with children can easily open the doors and get the little baskets out. (That's not me being rude about children, I mean those things that people carry babies about in.)

And, you'll never guess, she parked- badly -  in the parents and children area and SHE DIDN'T EVEN HAVE ANY CHILDREN WITH HER! Karma points to Waitrose for the disabled spaces and the parents spaces. Minus karma point for the owner of RE08 ONP.

Spread the word and maybe next week there won't be any plinkers to photograph. If they know we're watching, pointing fingers and laughing at them, perhaps they'll stop. That solved, we'll move on to the larger problems.