Today you have to be my best and most helpful friend.
I have to get these words down about Linda, so I’m going to practise here.
It’s something along the lines of:
I help you and your people understand and achieve your true potential.
or how about:
When you understand your potential you realise that your limits are way before anything you have dreamed of.
But then it could be something from a different angle. How about:
When you’re working at your very best work becomes a joy, you are a joy to be with, and the energy you create starts to rub off on those around you.
This state is where true engagement happens, this is when your business starts to perform in ways beyond anything you have dreamed of. The best performing businesses in the world outstrip the competition through working together as engaged teams.
It’s only through understanding your potential, and then exploring the blocks to achieving it, that you will be able to map the route to astounding success. The biggest block is just stopping, taking stock, and looking at your lives. That may be just your work life, but it is more likely to be wider than that. The pressures you feel from home, or the pressure you feel from not being at home enough, are all significant.
It can be too fast, too intense, for some. These people should self identify and be given less demanding roles, or be helped find something that suits them better outside the business.
Hey, I’m quite getting into this, it could be fun. Here’s my main distraction – the frame is still stripped. I have all the parts. I have thoroughly cleaned everything and regressed it all – quite a job and I’m a proud girl to have down it. But I haven’t started to assemble anything yet.Read More
Ha, when I was selecting the categories for this post I went for sex, money and culture.
It has been so full on of late.
I have been working at The Beech lots of nights, and seeing Suzy in some sort of feeding frenzy where we just can’t get enough of each other.
And we even went to see a musical – how la di da is that?
We saw Les Miserables, which I first saw as a film last year and completely loved, but seeing it at the theatre took it to a new level.
So for once I feel that I can honestly say that I have moved on from just studying and spouting about culture, to actually becoming a culture vulture in my own right.
It wasn’t just a trip to the theatre though. We did it in style and had a gorgeous pre-theatre dinner in a little restaurant on Dean Street called Pierre Victoire. Suzy told me that it was great French food at sensible prices. I thought it was lovely food at huge prices served by surly waitresses who really needed feeding up, but I wasn’t paying so I didn’t complain. We even drank calvados after dinner as a digestive! I’ve never been so civilised, but more to the point I’ve never seen Suzy acting as id she knew what to do in a social situation, yet at the restaurant she was on the case from the outset.
We’ve been together too long to be in that infatuation stage, but I have never felt closer to her – and I love it!
We were doing a session on British regional culture and looking at the national days of England, Scotland and Ireland. It’s funny that it turns out St George is also the patron saint of several countries and is unlikely to have ever visited Britain. St Andrew, the patron saint of Scotland, was actually one of Jesus’s disciples and certainly never got to Scotland, although apparently some of his relics did in an effort to protect them from looting in Rome. St David was actually Welsh, but was the son of the niece of the legendary King Arthur – I’m not sure that adds too much credibility to his story, but it’s kind of sweet.
What they missed out, but that I found from putting in something like Celtic Saints to Google, is that today, 5th of March, is St Piran’s Day and he is the patron saint of Cornwall. Suzy has quite an affinity to Cornwall so I rang her up and suggested we go celebrate, and celebrate we intend to do this evening.
I rang Gwen at The Beagle and she’s going to put on a Cornish beer for us called Sharp’s Own and she’s going to ask the Mexican kitchen people to try their hand at making Cornish Pasties.
It’s all a bit silly, but it should be fun too.
Oh and St Piran? Well, he was Irish. He apparently got thrown into the sea tied to a millstone, but instead of drowning he sailed his millstone to Cornwall and landed at a place called Perranporth (though it was probably named that subsequently). The Cornish flag is apparently his responsibility too and is said to represent molten tin (which he discovered too) flowing across a black rock of mica, the black stuff in granite.
Who cares if it’s true, it’s certainly nice.Read More
Last week I spend a few days with mamma, trying not to be the arsy daughter and instead trying to absorb her wisdom. I was fed gorgeous food, as often as I wanted it, in fact I had to be forceful sometimes to stop her force feeding me great food like this.
No curry powder for mamma either, she always starts a dish with a handful of cumin and mustard seed, and then builds a dish from there.
It seems that in England the onion goes in the pan first, but at home it’s the flavour that gets everything smelling wonderful before the ingredients start to be added. I feel ashamed at the amount of burgers I eat sometimes when sitting at the table at her house.
Anyway. Something came up about the date at the weekend and I came out with some trite phrase about time flying by too fast (and cringed, I used to hate my parents saying stuff like that), but then mamma started telling about how the passing of time seems to get ever faster as your own years go by. She was saying how when you’re a child the school holidays seem to last a lifetime, but after that memory has been firmly planted to mess with your mind it just changes with every passing year, until the thought of something taking a year, or even several years to complete, no longer seems too long.
I would love to ask her mum to talk to me about the same subject.
I’ve never been daunted by the prospect of having to write something long and intense, provided I have a vague idea what I’m talking about.
Now I have a formula for personal success – well in the vein of writing essays anyway.
Much involves avoidance of distractions.
I go to mamma’s the evening before and I’m fed beautiful food and lassi (mamma deeply disapproves of drinking booze, but that’s not a bad thing anyway for me).
Ideally i sleep the sleep of the dead. That didn’t happen last night as my mind was too alive, but it didn’t matter too much.
I get up early and think through all teat I have to do, writing notes on A3 sheets that I spread over the big dining table.
I then chill out for an hour, in the bath, or just lying on a day bed with headphones.
And then I sit and write.
For hours and hours on end, without tiring.
My lovely mamma hardly disturbs me, just a little nibble of food now and then.
Today it has been a draining but exciting experience, being so relevant to my parent’s lives I wrote about the diaspora of the Indian sub continent, focusing on the success of the people in transit around the world and positing the theory that a much higher proportion of people are successful when they move abroad when compared against the population left at home for the simple reason that they were the ones who had the get up and go to move in the first place.
Stands to reason doesn’t it?Read More
It has been a long night.
Not because I was up drinking or even working.
I was just worrying.
Worrying about my life.
I feel so young, so adrift in a big scary world.
Yet many girls my age have already got children of a few years old – how can they experience childhood themselves? I’m glad I haven’t got any more responsibilities than just keeping myself on track.
Mamma will tell me frequently that she was working and mothering when she was only seventeen, she had had me by the time she was my age, and both of my brothers are older than me.
I got up wary this morning because I couldn’t sleep.
As the light was appearing in the sky I was paying attention to the two trees outside of mammas flat and thinking about how this is the fourth February that I have sat here at some time, watching them gradually come into bud. It’s the sort of thing the Japanese kids at college pay a lot more attention to – the unstoppable progress of nature.
I’d like to train myself to watch such moments better too.
And get better accustomed to an awareness of my ageing against the living things around me – the trees that seem not to change year by year, just repeating their cycle, versus the dogs and cats who so quickly mature, grow older, old and die.
I’m feeling rather philosophical this morning and that’s not a bad thing. I hope my mind is in the right place for the essay I need to write today.
I will start at ten.
I will write some preparatory notes now.
Take a bath – mamma has a lovely bath in her apartment.
Then write for the rest of the day.
But that’s not normal is it?Read More