Ten Green Vegetables

Ten green vegetables, picked from Hammonds' farm; And if one green vegetable should accidentally be a bit bent, only nine green vegetables will be sent to the shops.

Or be a bit discoloured, or too big, or....so probably only seven green vegetables will actually make it to our tables. As I learned on Monday from a BBC programme presented by Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall, who is campaigning to save farmers the crops and therefore money they have to throw away, and to reduce the waste we as a consumer society produce.

I could get all sentimental about that poor unwanted, slightly misshapen carrot which took as much love, work, sun and rain to grow as its brothers and sisters, yet while its superior siblings achieved their dream of gracing the shelves of Tesco or Morrisons, our poor root veg ended up - literally - on the scrap heap. For even when less than perfect carrots may be diced and used for 'stew packs', yesterday's programme showed mountains of carrots destined for either animal fodder or - in the summertime when fish are jumping and the grass is high - the rubbish tip.

Even without the sentiment, I am left wondering what has become of our society. This very week we are commemorating the seventieth anniversary of the end of World War II, and there are still plenty of folk who remember the rationing and deprivations of this period. Throwing away vegetables - or any foodstuff - would have been then and still is now - anathema to such people.

In the forties, the population were encouraged to 'grow your own' to supplement the meagre supplies of food, and do you think anyone would have consigned a single carrot grown in their back garden or allotment to the bin because it was a bit curved, or too long? If fruit did survive long enough to go a bit ripe and squishy, it was used to make crumbles or pies, jams and jellies - perhaps even fruit lollies as we were shown, should the householder be fortunate enough to have a freezer!

My dad came from a farming background and used to pull carrots from the ground, hastily wash them under a tap if anyone was looking (brush them on his trousers if not) and eat. Not only did he not check to see if his food was the right shape, but he consumed in this way a good helping of dirt, containing bacteria which he always said boosted his immune system and protected him against so many of the bugs and viruses attacking children today. Even in the seventies he was lamenting the introduction of hermetically sealed plastic bags of fruit and veg that are now commonplace. Plastic which adds to the waste and unlike its natural contents does not decompose and feed the soil.

Ah - the seventies! One of my favourite Saturday night programmes in those days was 'That's Life' in which Esther Rantzen displayed her teeth and new outfit while giving us a combination of Watchdog, 'You've Been Framed' and Live at the Apollo. It always featured, among topical songs and poems, consumer advice and spoof street box pops, an example of a rudely shaped vegetable. Oh parsnip shaped like a willy and balls, where are you today?

On the scrap heap, that's where.

So what can we do about it? Well, judging by the two cloned Morrisons PA men they interviewed, not a lot: they mouthed platitudes about giving the customer what they want but remained unmoved by the statistics presented showing not only the waste, but the cancelled orders to farms leaving the farmers with huge amounts of carefully harvested crops with nowhere to send them.

'They don't have to do business with us,' one declared. 'Why don't they sell the elsewhere?'

Answer: because a) most supermarkets tie farmers into exclusive contracts; b) the sheer volume of produce ordered by one of the main supermarkets can't be matched by all the independent shops left in the country - because the supermarkets have been busy putting them out of business, and c) have you ever tried ringing round at 2am when the next day's order has just been cancelled, asking who wants ten tons of parsnips which have already been harvested and need to be eaten within the next few days?

They had done a pseudo-survey by placing some bent courgettes - in bags - next to some straight ones, labelling them 'Ugly Courgettes', pricing them the same and tracking how many sold compared to the normal stock.

Well, surprise surprise, they didn't sell as well, thus proving - according to Messrs Spreadsheet - that bent vegetables are not what the customer wants.

Can I suggest that most customers probably thought either that this was a gimmick or that the new kid on the block was a different strain of courgette, and stuck to what they were familiar with? We all know we are creatures of habit and we won't try something different unless we see a benefit to us. The presenter also pointed out that the bent courgettes appeared less fresh than the normal produce, and this alone could account for the lower popularity.

So how about, to be fair, putting up a sign stating that Morrisons are looking for ways to reduce waste and that these courgettes would otherwise be thrown away? How about selling them loose so the customers can actually pick them up and look at them rather than suspect they're in a package for a reason? How about, given that they are destined for the waste bin, pricing them a few pence cheaper than the 'top quality' product? Or at least ensure both products are equally fresh? And then see what the customers do?

We can sign the petition here: https://wastenotuk.com/

In addition, perhaps when we go into our local supermarket - Morrisons were featured on the programme but I'm sure the others are equally questionable in their practices - perhaps we could ask a few pointed questions about the range of fruit and veg on offer and make it clear that we would be happy to chop up an over large carrot or eat a bent banana. The taste and nutrition is the same, and when you eat a plate of stew do you really know - or care - what the ingredients looked like raw as long as they were fresh and edible?

Go on - let the supermarkets know how you feel.

Or better still - buy your fruit and veg from the local farm shop or grow and eat your own! Bent carrots and all!

Dopey Tweet

First, a disclaimer: I have even less interest in the activities of Kim Kardashian than in the doctrines espoused by the Pope, but even I was drawn to read the article suggesting that she tweeted an apparent accusation that God’s representative on earth was a dope fiend.

As was to be expected, much ado about nothing – and far less entertaining than the play of that name. She tweeted ‘The pope is dope’ and according to the Guardian, ‘Most would probably interpret the tweet ... as an endorsement.’

Would they? I am certainly not ‘down with the kids’ but I would assume negativity – and at my great age, I recall a time when a dope was an idiot: at school, if you were then only one in your gang not to get a joke, you were assailed with ‘You dope’.

More importantly, Kardashian’s tweet does show the dangers of social media, particularly for the famous. In my youth, favourite celebrities could be assumed to be intelligent, since we never heard or read anything other than agent-approved text and footage. The recently-shown video of John Lennon suggests censoring went on behind the scenes.

Now however, we have only to read some celeb twitter feeds to get a picture of their actual knowledge and skill level. 

As Abraham Lincoln and Mark Twain famously never said: ‘Better to keep your mouth shut and appear stupid than to open it and remove all doubt.’

The Power of Networking #letsleverage

We were fortunate enough to host an amazing conference for business owners and entrepreneurs on the Isle of Wight last Tuesday.

I was unfortunate enough not to be able to attend – previous commitments. But the next morning I noticed there was a Periscope video of some of the event still available to view, so I took the opportunity to see what I’d missed.

Halfway through the presentation I watched, I had already taken an A4 page full of notes, and then one tip stood out for me, personally, as fitting brilliantly with what my business is about and suiting my strengths and interests.

It was practical advice which I could action immediately – and I did.

The next day I was at a networking meeting and mentioned how helpful this advice was to Lyn, the conference organiser – I also told her I would sign up for the video of the conference which is now available. 

Other business owners listened in to our conversation, with the result that they are also likely to buy the video and benefit from the presentations, and they also know more about my business and can spread the word.

Two days, and I’ve spread the word about my NLP work, gained some potential clients both from the networking and the advice given at the conference: Lyn has more potential customers for the video and I was able to make a suggestion which will I hope help her to not only make more video sales but garner interest towards the next conference – which I for one will be attending!

The power of networking!!


Oh, and what was that valuable tip? Well, you’ll have to watch the conference video to find out....

Lets Leverage

Periscope – Arrggghhhh!

A few weeks ago I was introduced by a lovely businesswoman friend to Periscope. I’d never heard of it before.

It’s a Twitter-connected app which allows anyone to point a camera phone at themselves – or anything else - and broadcast. Other Periscope users can view the video live; comment on what they see/hear and interact with the broadcaster. Once the video has finished it is available on the Periscope site for 24 hours for further viewing. Some users then capture their videos and put them up on YouTube etc for posterity.

Like everything else, it is a tool and can be used for good and ill. I’m sure there are plenty of trolls posting insults on videos, and people broadcasting for weird reasons, but you can also choose who you ‘follow’ (like on Twitter) and you will then receive a pop-up when one of the people you follow is about to go live with a scope.

So far I have followed about five people – as you would expect, those I know or have common interest with, and I have lurked and watched – and learned.

So having just started two new businesses (Find Your Family – genealogy service, and NLPIOW – as an NLP coach, trainer and counsellor) it looks like the right time to actually take the plunge and scope myself. As I would say to any procrastinators out there, the only right time is now. So this afternoon I will take that plunge. See you on the other side....

Age means being able to say I don't care!!

There are some disadvantages of reaching your middle years: you need glasses to read the small print; sometimes your knees make a weird clicky sound when you get up and you realise that unless you're very lucky indeed you now have more years behind you on this planet than ahead.

But the advantages outweigh all this: the main one being I genuinely no longer care what people think of me. Oh yes, when I was twenty I claimed to be an individual, disregarding of other people's opinions, but that was only because that was the fashionable thing to say.

Let me clarify: there are still people whose opinion I care about and trust: if my other half tells me a dress doesn't suit me I'll have a good look in the mirror and probably won't wear it when out with him at least, and if my son decided I was a crap mother and he never wanted to speak to me again I'd be devastated.

Because, let's face it, we humans are a convivial lot: we like to feel we are part of a mutually appreciated group, liked and maybe even admired by our tribe: we are all a strange mixture of self absorbed and needy of external approbation. Our forefathers had the mutual support system, of their family and their small village, beyond whose confines few travelled. They also had the approval of God - subject to the relevant requirements.

Our culture is now global and for the most part secular: we are subject to the approval not of one tiny local group of humanity but potentially of anyone in the world via the Internet. 

Which should make things easier: if you happened to be the "only gay in the village", a single middle aged woman who knew a bit about herbal remedies, or were born with a noticeable birth mark, in medieval times, you were probably headed for trial by water: if you drowned, at least you'd proved you weren't a witch and had escaped burning. Nowadays, wherever you live, you will be able to converse with people with whom you have something in common, even if that something is train spotting, following Justin Beiber or collecting marmalade jars. 

So your tribe can be, and often is, formed around  personal interests. Nothing wrong with that: Internet forums and appreciation societies have spawned thousands of friendships and indeed marriages. The problem is, being open to global friendship also opens you up to global criticism, whether personal abuse by Twitter trolls or far more subtle and persuasive media pressure.

Do you have the perfect beach body? Do you work out five times a week, drink eight litres of water and eat eight portions of veg every day? Have you got a capsule wardrobe full of this season's must haves? Is your car/laptop/TV/fitted kitchen the envy of your friends? What are you going to do about it?

Well, as it happens, no, no, no, no and nothing actually. Because I genuinely don't care.

I take care of my health, try to be kind and loving, and live my life to my own rules.

I have gone from 'Oh my God, how can I fit into society?' to 'Why would I want to conform to what the media - or anyone else - demands of me for their own agenda?' 

And that feels good.

The Rose Readathon: A Unique Experience

If I were ever invited to appear on the TV programme ‘Room 101’ I know what at least one my nominations would be: people who qualify the adjective ‘unique’.

 

The definition of unique that there is literally nothing like the object, experience or whatever being described. Nothing, therefore, can logically be described as ‘very unique’, rather unique’ or ‘a bit unique’ – it either is or it isn’t. If a comparable thing exists, uniqueness is lost.

 

Which means there are actually very few unique things in this world: but on Saturday I experienced one of them. For – until and unless another is discovered – The Rose Theatre on Bankside is the only remaining Elizabethan theatre in the world – on the globe, I nearly wrote, but that would tread on the toes of its near neighbour, which is of course – ha! – just a replica.

 

Of course, The Globe does boast a few things The Rose lacks – walls, a full size stage... not to mention heating and toilets. But at The Rose one is in the presence of the actual, original, sixteenth century theatre – admittedly only the foundations, but the intention is that once these remains have been excavated and properly preserved, visitors to what will be a museum and working theatre will be able to stand almost literally in the shoes of Shakespeare, Marlowe and other great figures who trod the boards here.

 

To support The Rose Revealed Project towards this aim, the theatre hosted its second Readathon on Saturday: anyone who wished to was invited to sign up to take part in or watch the reading of one or more of six plays which were performed, one an hour, from 2pm. Five Shakespeares and one Marlowe.

When I turned up for the first Readathon last year I expected trained actors to be on hand to take the main roles, with those who had effectively walked off the streets to be offered something like ‘Second Soldier on the Left’.

 

Not a bit of it! Every person who has expressed an interest drew a slip from a hat bearing the name of a character so each actor had an equal chance of playing Hamlet, Lady Macbeth or Dr Faustus.

 

This did result in a few amusing castings, such as a strapping young man playing Ophelia while a petite lady played opposite him as Hamlet, but the actors and audience took this all – quite literally – in good part, and if anything it added to the enjoyment and entertainment.

 

Although billed as a Readathon, and although there was no requirement to do so, most readers performed as well, so rather than, as it could have been, a static readthrough, the effect was that of an early rehearsal of a play at which the cast had not yet had time to learn their lines.

 

As an audience member for one play, I found I could disregard the fact that the actors were holding scripts and for the main part enjoy it as I would enjoy a play in performance. As a reader for other plays, I thoroughly enjoyed not knowing exactly how others would interpret their roles, and acting and interacting with them.

 

The experience of performing on stage in the very theatre where such luminaries have acted, speaking lines written over 400 years before, yards away from the stage on which the writer once stood – now that truly is unique.