As promised to some of you in person, here's my list of the greatest things of my 2006. This is part of an exercise my coach suggested, and which I've passed around. Perhaps you'd like to try it yourself. Part of the brief is that once you've created the list, you share it with the people who've been a part of making your year be what it's been.
1. Kat moving in
2. Carol and Mark getting married
3. Carol and Mark becoming neighbours
4. Discovering my passion as a coach
5. Going to Andalusia with Kat
5 a) Gazing at the Alhambra at night from the Arab quarter of Granada
5 b) Gazing over the gorge in Ronda from our amazing hotel room (and from its dining room)
6. Abseiling with Fred on our very active outdoorsy holiday in Shropshire in the summer
7. Starting a Blog
8. Discovering the joys of decluttering
9. going a whole year without even wanting to smoke
10. rediscovering playing the guitar - singing 'Fairytale of New York' with Kat
11. starting Scotland's first Life Club
12. becoming an international coach
13. having my sister and her sons Mark and Robin visiting us from America - taking Mark mountain biking
14. seeing three of my best mates from school for the first time in many years the other night - Gardner Molloy, Stu McDonald and Fergus Buchanan
15. Fred's amazing display of his dancing prowess at Hogmanay
16. Having a gorgeous dinner with Kat at the Drum and Monkey in Harrogate in April
17. Meeting Kat's family and friends
18. finally cleaning the windows in my flat
19. not having a lodger any more
20. having dozens of really committed, wonderful clients
Sunday, 31 December 2006
Saturday, 16 December 2006
Back to vinyl
Records are something I've rediscovered this year. I never got rid of my record collection. It's always been something I've been very proud of, and which represents a lot for me. However, I've been out of the habit of listening to them for years. I've been a sucker for the ease of CDs, seduced by their availability and compactness. Records are so much more demanding and fussy; they are the prima donna of the audio media world. I mean, even the humble cassette can be played on a deck with an auto-reverse feature. Haughty vinyl, however, requires one to come across and flip it over mid-album. If we don't acquiesce to this attention-seeking ploy, it makes that quiet yet persistent - nay, relentless - bumping sound that says 'I've got to the end of the side, you're going to have to move the needle now.'
But all this fuss only serves to make vinyl more loveable, more warts-and-all authentic. When my girlfriend moved in a few months ago and brought her records with her, that was it. Vinyl's back, along with changing sides and wiping the dust off (or rather trying to - you're always on a hiding to nothing with that little exercise). And so I've been listening to lots of neglected tunes, many from the years 1977-84. Being a 41 year old dad throws a new light onto some; for example, I've found that Machine Gun Etiquette by The Damned is the perfect album for Scalextric racing. The other week I listened to Playing With A Different Sex, an album by angsty feminist punk band The Au Pairs. I was hoovering at the time. I found myself knowing every song off by heart after 20 years, and wondered why I spent so much time at that stage of my life listening to a band whose every song condemned my entire gender as being bastards.
The best bit though came the other day when I paid my first visit to Oxfam Music. Thanks to the specialisatory approach Oxfam are developing, here was mountains of charity shop vinyl under one roof. All the sort of thing that was in the shops when I was at the height of my record collecting heyday. And the same prices too - I always had a rule that I'd pay no more than £3 for a record, and there were plenty at that rate. Paradise. In fact, given that one of my purchases was Meatloaf's Bat Out Of Hell, you could say Paradise By The Dashboard Light. Mmmm...
But all this fuss only serves to make vinyl more loveable, more warts-and-all authentic. When my girlfriend moved in a few months ago and brought her records with her, that was it. Vinyl's back, along with changing sides and wiping the dust off (or rather trying to - you're always on a hiding to nothing with that little exercise). And so I've been listening to lots of neglected tunes, many from the years 1977-84. Being a 41 year old dad throws a new light onto some; for example, I've found that Machine Gun Etiquette by The Damned is the perfect album for Scalextric racing. The other week I listened to Playing With A Different Sex, an album by angsty feminist punk band The Au Pairs. I was hoovering at the time. I found myself knowing every song off by heart after 20 years, and wondered why I spent so much time at that stage of my life listening to a band whose every song condemned my entire gender as being bastards.
The best bit though came the other day when I paid my first visit to Oxfam Music. Thanks to the specialisatory approach Oxfam are developing, here was mountains of charity shop vinyl under one roof. All the sort of thing that was in the shops when I was at the height of my record collecting heyday. And the same prices too - I always had a rule that I'd pay no more than £3 for a record, and there were plenty at that rate. Paradise. In fact, given that one of my purchases was Meatloaf's Bat Out Of Hell, you could say Paradise By The Dashboard Light. Mmmm...
Saturday, 9 December 2006
Priscilla, Queen of Christmas Spirit
Just watched 'Priscilla Queen of the Desert'. It's an excellent film I've watched a few times, but this time I noticed a few things that I hadn't before. I love how this happens - when you open up to thinking about something in a new way, thought-provoking stuff turns up in all sorts of funny places. Given that for me at the moment it's being a dad and a son, I find it rather cute that a movie about drag queens should give me such pause for thought.
One thing I spotted was the line where Terence Stamp's character says 'I never got a chance to tell them what a wonderful childhood I'd had.' He means once he had his gender-swapping operation. I've never had such an operation, but I did cut myself off from my family pretty decisively some time ago. Thing is, the rift is now at least nominally healed - but have I yet told them what a wonderful childhood I've had? Not really.
Steve Biddulph, in his excellent book 'Manhood', notes that all fathers want the respect of their sons, and vice versa. This is something else that's present in Priscilla. Hugo Weaving's character Mitzi meets his son properly for the first time, and is terrified what he'll think of having a gay dad. For years he's been shying away from opening up that can of worms and facing up to that fear, and it's been eating him; now he confronts it, and everything's fine. Actually it's better than that - he discovers his son respects him, loves him, and admires him, and it's a colossal revelation. The can of worms turns out to be a box of chocolates.
You don't have to be gay to have those barriers - cutting members of your family off or cutting yourself off from them can happen in all sorts of ways. We can blame ourselves, or other people. Sometimes we're only barely aware that it's even happening, and you wake up one day and realise there's a great big chasm between you and your parents or brother or whoever. Relationships, especially family ones, are prominent at Christmas of course - tragically, all too many of us find Christmas painful because of that.
There's all sorts of advice that could be given, but it all boils down to this - open communication. Talk, listen, empathise, be open, listen, hear. And let go of the idea that your point of view is the truth. If you're up on the moral high ground - isn't it lonely up there? Even if there's a rousing chorus of other people agreeing with you that you are completely In The Right? If you're feeling awkward or guilty that you've not called someone for ages, or held back from saying something, think how great they - and you - will feel when you call, or come out with it.
Christmas is coming. Let's talk, listen, forgive, clap our arms around each other and make it a happy one. Remember, the best boxes of chocolates are hidden in cans of worms.
One thing I spotted was the line where Terence Stamp's character says 'I never got a chance to tell them what a wonderful childhood I'd had.' He means once he had his gender-swapping operation. I've never had such an operation, but I did cut myself off from my family pretty decisively some time ago. Thing is, the rift is now at least nominally healed - but have I yet told them what a wonderful childhood I've had? Not really.
Steve Biddulph, in his excellent book 'Manhood', notes that all fathers want the respect of their sons, and vice versa. This is something else that's present in Priscilla. Hugo Weaving's character Mitzi meets his son properly for the first time, and is terrified what he'll think of having a gay dad. For years he's been shying away from opening up that can of worms and facing up to that fear, and it's been eating him; now he confronts it, and everything's fine. Actually it's better than that - he discovers his son respects him, loves him, and admires him, and it's a colossal revelation. The can of worms turns out to be a box of chocolates.
You don't have to be gay to have those barriers - cutting members of your family off or cutting yourself off from them can happen in all sorts of ways. We can blame ourselves, or other people. Sometimes we're only barely aware that it's even happening, and you wake up one day and realise there's a great big chasm between you and your parents or brother or whoever. Relationships, especially family ones, are prominent at Christmas of course - tragically, all too many of us find Christmas painful because of that.
There's all sorts of advice that could be given, but it all boils down to this - open communication. Talk, listen, empathise, be open, listen, hear. And let go of the idea that your point of view is the truth. If you're up on the moral high ground - isn't it lonely up there? Even if there's a rousing chorus of other people agreeing with you that you are completely In The Right? If you're feeling awkward or guilty that you've not called someone for ages, or held back from saying something, think how great they - and you - will feel when you call, or come out with it.
Christmas is coming. Let's talk, listen, forgive, clap our arms around each other and make it a happy one. Remember, the best boxes of chocolates are hidden in cans of worms.
Friday, 8 December 2006
Decluttering
My first Life Club went well, despite initial nerves and getting a little mixed up at one point. Decluttering was the main theme, and in the wake of leading it, I've been doing some decluttering myself. Once I got into the subject I realised that although I always thought of it as basically clearing out the wardrobe and doing a charity shop run, decluttering's actually a very powerful and versatile tool you can apply to anything. Indeed, it's an almost essential first step to giving your life a makeover.
The thing is though that the stuff you don't want could be anything. Clothes no longer worn and half-finished work on desks are obvious examples, but there's all sorts of things that take up space and energy that could be used for other things. I think what I could most do with decluttering is all those calls to people in my life I haven't made, allowing them instead to pile up on my 'inner desk'!
What's great about it is that the energy seems to be transferrable. My girlfriend Kat moved in a few months ago, and we recently finally got around to hanging pictures. The place looks a whole lot better and the piles of yet-to-be-dealt with stuff have all but disappeared. Rooms look bigger, and are easier to move around in. All that's great, and what you might expect. But there's more, the really interesting stuff. It actually feels like a home - our home. I feel like we're closer now, and that when people visit us here, what they see speaks to them of that closeness. I like that.
I also feel 'called forth' in a curious sort of way, like it's summoning up a hitherto unfamiliar organised version of me. My desk is tidier, and I feel the urge to clear out my in-tray. I even got a computer consultant in for advice about how to sort out my IT requirements properly, instead of continuing to thrash about feeling stupid because I can't figure out how to get software to do a task it isn't really capable of.
It all makes me think of my friend Neil's house. He's a wonderful graphic designer, and has one of those homes most of us would call minimalistic (and possibly not mean it that kindly!) But the thing is everything's there, and it all has a place to be. If a house is a machine for living, it's simply that his is a very efficient and ergonomically designed one. And what I find fascinating is that that makes it very easy to keep tidy - putting things back where they belong seems somehow to be the easy option, unlike in my office. In Neil's home office there's a bike hanging on the wall and a massive Scalextric set all over the floor - but it's still easy to work there.
My coach recently asked me what one thing I'd like to pinch from Neil and his home. I think it's the momentum towards peace that I feel there, that feeling of 'everything I want, nothing I don't want'.
The thing is though that the stuff you don't want could be anything. Clothes no longer worn and half-finished work on desks are obvious examples, but there's all sorts of things that take up space and energy that could be used for other things. I think what I could most do with decluttering is all those calls to people in my life I haven't made, allowing them instead to pile up on my 'inner desk'!
What's great about it is that the energy seems to be transferrable. My girlfriend Kat moved in a few months ago, and we recently finally got around to hanging pictures. The place looks a whole lot better and the piles of yet-to-be-dealt with stuff have all but disappeared. Rooms look bigger, and are easier to move around in. All that's great, and what you might expect. But there's more, the really interesting stuff. It actually feels like a home - our home. I feel like we're closer now, and that when people visit us here, what they see speaks to them of that closeness. I like that.
I also feel 'called forth' in a curious sort of way, like it's summoning up a hitherto unfamiliar organised version of me. My desk is tidier, and I feel the urge to clear out my in-tray. I even got a computer consultant in for advice about how to sort out my IT requirements properly, instead of continuing to thrash about feeling stupid because I can't figure out how to get software to do a task it isn't really capable of.
It all makes me think of my friend Neil's house. He's a wonderful graphic designer, and has one of those homes most of us would call minimalistic (and possibly not mean it that kindly!) But the thing is everything's there, and it all has a place to be. If a house is a machine for living, it's simply that his is a very efficient and ergonomically designed one. And what I find fascinating is that that makes it very easy to keep tidy - putting things back where they belong seems somehow to be the easy option, unlike in my office. In Neil's home office there's a bike hanging on the wall and a massive Scalextric set all over the floor - but it's still easy to work there.
My coach recently asked me what one thing I'd like to pinch from Neil and his home. I think it's the momentum towards peace that I feel there, that feeling of 'everything I want, nothing I don't want'.
Sunday, 3 December 2006
Politicians and Christmas cards
My festive run-up was recently started when a chap from Radio Scotland rang and asked for my views about Christmas cards. It was an interesting and perhaps surprisingly thought-provoking discussion. One thing it touched on was the cards politicians send; apparently Tony Blair will be sending out a card adorned with a picture of his family. Not a surprise that one really: his style is pretty paternalistic.
I like that in a leader incidentally. James VI & I, one of my favourite kings and a widely respected political theorist of his time, compared the role of king to that of father. While he believed that God had chosen him for his position as monarch, he also believed that with that went a duty of care and guidance to his subjects. No direct comparisons intended here of course, but I reckon that not so much has changed from the age of Absolute Monarchy to the age of Democracy. When you’re in charge, you have to care and guide. How good you are is partly defined by how well you handle the situations when care and guidance come into conflict.
Leaders also have to be in communication with those they represent, care for and guide. My son Fred recently entered a Christmas card competition, and he announced yesterday that the entries were being exhibited in a local shopping centre. That's pretty cool when you're 10 years old of course, but what really made him stick his chest out with pride was that he got a certificate from our MP Mark Lazarowicz . Fred's met him before, at an evironmental awareness event at his school. 'I asked him a question,' Fred said to me solemnly, 'And he gave me an answer.'
Definitely one of those 'Ahh, don't kids say great things!' moments. But also I'm impressed. I'm impressed by Mark Lazarowicz's policy of engaging with kids. It's worrying that there's so much voter apathy, and I think the only real solution is long term. It involves people seeing politicians as people who listen to us and make a positive difference. Pro-active, listening, caring leadership. If politicians show us their interest, they'll get ours.
I like that in a leader incidentally. James VI & I, one of my favourite kings and a widely respected political theorist of his time, compared the role of king to that of father. While he believed that God had chosen him for his position as monarch, he also believed that with that went a duty of care and guidance to his subjects. No direct comparisons intended here of course, but I reckon that not so much has changed from the age of Absolute Monarchy to the age of Democracy. When you’re in charge, you have to care and guide. How good you are is partly defined by how well you handle the situations when care and guidance come into conflict.
Leaders also have to be in communication with those they represent, care for and guide. My son Fred recently entered a Christmas card competition, and he announced yesterday that the entries were being exhibited in a local shopping centre. That's pretty cool when you're 10 years old of course, but what really made him stick his chest out with pride was that he got a certificate from our MP Mark Lazarowicz . Fred's met him before, at an evironmental awareness event at his school. 'I asked him a question,' Fred said to me solemnly, 'And he gave me an answer.'
Definitely one of those 'Ahh, don't kids say great things!' moments. But also I'm impressed. I'm impressed by Mark Lazarowicz's policy of engaging with kids. It's worrying that there's so much voter apathy, and I think the only real solution is long term. It involves people seeing politicians as people who listen to us and make a positive difference. Pro-active, listening, caring leadership. If politicians show us their interest, they'll get ours.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
