5 years ago | Chamberlains Farm, Shevington Moor | 5th June 2018
Five years ago, I was asked for a quote for a piece in the Horse & Hound, To be honest, it sounds more auspicious than it probably is. If you were anyone in the sprockets and grommets market, you’d soon end up getting quoted in Sprockets & Gromits Weekly (or whatever it is) but anyone of any prominence in the ‘horse world’ will, sooner or later, end up in ‘H&H‘, one of our country’s more idiosyncratic publications.
I don’t think it’s too wide of the mark to describe it in such a way. When, in ‘Notting Hill’, Hugh Grant’s character (Ben Thacker) was trying to infiltrate a press conference to see Julia Roberts’ character (Anna Scott), the writers decided that the most ‘British’ and therefore most comedic thing he could do was to pretend to be a representative of was this very title. It might be regarded as something of a bible within the riding community but in the ‘muggle’ world beyond, it’s a perfect embodiment of every ‘hooray Henry’ stereotype that equestrianism tends to invoke.
Okay, full disclosure: it wasn’t my first appearance in the magazine – and it wasn’t my last. I’ve done plenty of PR pieces before about store openings, a fire and at least one product recall. Since this story, I’ve been interviewed and quoted in there about the impact of the Covid pandemic, in 2020.
It’s also led to something of an ongoing rivalry between Helen and me. I’ve probably appeared in Horse & Hound about five or six times and, while I think I’ve only ever seen Helen in there twice (for Top 3 finishes in her section at various Events), she says it’s more than that. We both claim to have appeared on its pages more than the other.
To be honest, whatever the ‘score’ is between us, she did have to work a lot harder to get her mentions than I did; actually winning a rosette instead of simply forging a minor reputation as an industry rent-a-gob.
10 years ago | Vasco de Gama Bridge, Lisbon, Portugal | 2nd June 2013
Ten years ago, I drove over the longest bridge I’ve ever been across – the 7.67-mile Vasco da Gama Bridge in Lisbon. We’d spent a week on the Algarve but flown in and out of Lisbon, meaning we’d needed to drive the 170 miles each way – which I was, of course, quite happy to do…
I know it’s quite a nerdy thing to admit to but I like to keep a note of ‘records’ I’ve notched up on my travels – a sort of personal Guinness Book or Records of places I’ve been and seen. Highest elevation? Dercum Mountain summit, Colorado (11,640ft). Lowest elevation? Bombay Beach, California (-223 ft). Most Southerly point? Phillip Island, Australia. Tallest building? ‘Top Of The World’ Observation Deck, South Tower, World Trade Centre, New York City (1,310 ft). Biggest stadium? Melbourne Cricket Ground, Australia (100,024).
Sometimes you know the journey will involve a record-breaking element, as was the case the first time we crossed the Millau Viaduct in France (890 ft above the valley floor) – the bridge’s reputation preceded it. On this occasion, the significance of our surroundings was lost on us. Happily, because of the internet, it’s possible to learn all about things like that, after the fact.
As long as it is, most of this bridge is a ’causeway’ style bridge, built across lots of supporting pillars, with only one wider-spanning section, to allow marine traffic to cross beneath. For this reason, this bridge would never appear on any list of longest ‘single span’ bridges – considered by many to be the ‘sexier’ of the bridge record categories. Most of those notable examples are now in the Far East, although I have been across two in the top 20: The Humber Bridge (10th in the list at 1,410m) and the Golden Gate Bridge (19th at 1,280m).
* Wikipedia describes the Vasco de Gama Bridge as ‘the second longest bridge in Europe, after the Crimean Bridge’. Not only does that make it the longest bridge in the European Union but, between October 2022 and February 2023, the longest on the continent, while the Crimean Bridge was damaged as part of the ongoing Ukraine War.
Heading into Lison on the Vasco de Gama Bridge, approaching the Main Bridge Span
15 years ago | Chamberlains Farm, Shevington Moor | 27th May 2008
It’s brilliant what pub conversations can lead to, isn’t it? Fifteen years ago, I had a three year-old son and a Thursday night routine which involved going to the Hesketh Arms (now sadly no longer a pub) for last orders. A chance conversation one night led to a call out of the blue, months later, and an incredibly gracious invitation…
Thursday nights used to be quite the set piece in our house. Most weeks, we had guests round. I’d put Charlie to bed while Helen would cook tea for everyone. When he was asleep, around 8pm, we’d eat and talk. By 10:30, I used to slope off to the pub for last orders. By that time, various friends had made it there after touring a few other hostelries and there was usually a game of pool or darts in full flow.
One night, I was talking to one of them, a former pub-football-team team-mate from a farming family, asking him how things were going. He told me he’d just ordered a new tractor. I knew very well that it would be a John Deere – he was always very clear about his family’s affiliation with the brand. As I had a young son who loved tractors – when he was two, the first evidence we had that he wasn’t colour-blind was his ability to tell a Massey Ferguson [red] from a John Deere [green] – this was something I was keen to learn more about.
I learned a few things. Chiefly, that new tractors are not cheap. Which is a euphemism for ‘eye-waveringly expensive’. But, for your many tens of thousands of pounds, you do get regular updates throughout the build process, from the factory in Mannheim, Germany. “Yeah, this week, I got an email telling me they’d just built the gearbox” my friend informed me.
This became something of a running gag. “What have they built this week?”, I’d ask on subsequent Thursday nights, eliciting an update on the finer points of the developing ‘6930’ model. Eventually, the answer was “They’re delivering it in the next week or two”. It occurred to me that, to a tractor-mad three year-old there can’t be many things that are cooler than the chance to see – or maybe even sit in – a brand new tractor. “Would it be okay if I bring Charlie up to the farm when it arrives?”, I asked. “Sure, no problem!” was the reply.
That’s not what happened. One random Tuesday night, I got a phone call around tea time. The tractor had been delivered, to the dealership, and my friend was driving it home. He was wondering if we were at home as he was planning to pop in, on the way. “Yes, of course!”, I replied, with mounting excitement, looking hastily for my digital camera.
Ten minutes later, he arrived in his gleaming new John Deere and Charlie was awestruck. “Of course he can sit in it”, was the reply when I asked if it was okay to get a few photos. “You can have a drive if you want”, he then added. I wasn’t going to pass up this generous offer. The three of us squeezed into the two seats of the cab and I started up the 6.8-litre engine. A minute of brief explanation of the controls later (largely similar to those of a car), I engaged that freshly-built gearbox and we moved gingerly away.
I should point out we weren’t on a public road. Our driveway is basically a 250-metre loop road. In a car, it’s not particularly narrow – you barely notice the width. In a nearly-nine-foot-wide tractor, it suddenly felt like a footpath. With overhanging branches brushing the top of the cab, I carefully guided this brand-new 5.6-tonne monster to the end of the drive, using the ‘T’-junction section to effect a three-point turn in order to drive back. Throughout, Charlie’s face was a picture!
It was a great experience and I’m so grateful for the opportunity – I really wasn’t expecting it. Not many people would ask you if you wanted a go in their brand new car on the day they collected it, let alone this expensive, unfamiliar piece of working machinery.
The whole episode had one other happy outcome. A year later, we decided to drive around Europe (for the first time) for our family holiday. On the outward leg, we stopped at Paris and had a day at Disneyland. Coming home, two weeks later, we decided to spend a day in Mannheim – at the John Deere Visitor Centre. Guess which day our young tractor fan enjoyed more….
The view from the driver’s seat of a John Deere 6930
I hadn’t expected this to be a trilogy. When I posted Prediction and Predictability, it was just some internal discussion document I’d written a long time ago, that somehow found its way to the light of day. Ironically, given the title, I had no idea that anything more would become of it.
But like George Lucas and that crazy standalone space story he had lying about, very soon, there were obvious questions that needed to be explored – and eventually, the demand for a whole three-parter.
Admittedly, Mr. Lucas was fulfilling the wishes of moviegoers around the world, whereas I simply asked if I should “turn this into a Trilogy” on LinkedIn and, very kindly, one person said yes. You might say that’s nothing like the same thing but I think, principally because of the way I’ve worded the second paragraph, the comparison still stands.
You see, words matter. Big time. I wrote something about the power of words here. They are the bricks with which we build meaning and understanding. There are whole branches of science that believe they even shape the way we think.
And they’re being weaponised like never before. Okay, not like never before, but certainly more routinely than ever before
Before we get into that, let’s re-cap the story so far, through the medium of The Marketing Textbook:
You’ve looked at your list of customers and looked at where and how they differ. You’ve defined those groups and and chosen those you wish to contact. Using our friend Ed Mayer’s analysis, you’ve now determined your audience, something he suggests can contribute upto 40% of the success of any campaign. In short, you’ve chosen the people whose Attention you feel you can gain.
You’ve looked at each pf these groups, analysed their various profiles and tried to understand what may best motivate each group. You’ve decided what the offer should be to most effectively reflect those motivations. Again, Mayer suggests that, done well, this should make up another 40% of your campaign’s success. The key metric at this stage is level of Interest you can generate.
And now, the next bit: the execution. Specifically, what words and pictures, tone and format are going to take your campaign from being merely eye-catching and attractive to becoming compelling enough to achieve the best level of success? Mayer states that this is where the remaining 20% of a campaign’s effectiveness lies. Words must take us well beyond the constraints of simple communication at this point. They’re there to create Desire. Finally, we must also ensure we finish off with an effective Call to Action.
At this point, ‘old-school’ marketers would be gleefully deploying a wide range of linguistic and literary tricks of the trade to create a favourable image, to flatter the reader, to build credibility, to suggest like-mindedness, to build towards a USP. In short, to construct all the elements of face-to-face salesmanship, to take a curious prospect and point them towards the life-affirming status of customerhood.
Look at any 1970s press ad and, once you’ve tried to ignore the almost constant casual sexism – and, sadly, more besides – you’ll see that writing ad copy used was very often a protracted attempt to schmooze the reader into submission, with florid language and ridiculous metaphors. Even ads for bread could use up three columns of text to luxuriantly, verbosely, disproportionately extol the virtues of the open sandwich:
“The Danes call them smørrebrød. But never mind that.”
All this self-importance from a time of fewer distractions and greater attention spans has contributed to a lingering stereotype of marketing presentation being a little insubstantial, superficial… …’fluffy’. Like any stereotype, that may well be based on a kernel of truth but it isn/t really a fair depiction, especially without the consideration of context.
Time – the availability of it to the reader – seems to be a key reason behind the changes to the words to which we most-demonstrably respond…. Sorry, I’m in the wrong decade to structure a sentence like that. I’ll try again:
Today, we expect punchier words. Shorter sentences. Day-to-day language and less ‘correct’ grammar. If that means less nuance, so what? And it’s nothing new – the further back you go, the longer ads seemed to go on for.
It’s easy now to lampoon even famously ground-breaking ads from the mid-20th Century for the length of their prose, their seeming ‘over-production’ but again, context plays a part. They were consumed in an age where time and attention were more abundant, where you had a whole five seconds to lure the reader into deciding whether or not to read on for the full half-minute. To quote Obadiah Yorkshireman, “Luxury!“
The actual ‘Lily The Pink’
Yes, even in those heady days, there were still limits to attention. Go back even further to the 19th Century and you see ads for the most utilitarian products, like soap, that were billed with the same sort interminable of ‘step right up’ repetitive hucksterism and dubious claims that you only really hear from boxing emcees these days. People back then must have had attention spans that ran into minutes! The very distinctive selling style from this time was memorably satirised by The Scaffold in the 1960s, a treatment which really was “most efficacious in every case”.
It seems inconceivable today that anyone could write a strapline like “It is a truth universally acknowledged that a man in possession of improving prospects must be in want of a better soap“. But in the context and era-defining phrasing of the recently-published ‘Pride and Prejudice’, it could have been the 1813 equivalent of “Got Milk?“.
Back in the 21st Century, we’re now expected to get the whole ad done with in five seconds. How do you realistically establish credibility, demonstrate need, get to the Unique Selling Proposition and give your Call To Action time to land in that time? You have to edit it right down. and make every character count. It’s not just fewer, shorter words, it’s the maximum level of promise you can elicit from what remains – and for that to happen, there’s been a grammatical evolutionary advance.
Remember, we’re in the business of ‘promise’ here and this was almost always conveyed by description; how something was, how it made you feel. ‘Luxurious‘, ‘Tasty‘, ‘Confident‘, ‘Unbeatable‘. The product was represented with the most flattering describing words (adjectives) available whereupon the consumer was simply invited to appreciate that description and, if they agreed – how could they not? – do the obvious thing and buy into it. Literally. The virtues of the product were used as a means to appeal to – and unlock – the discerning customer’s critical faculty. The language might have become slicker over time but we were still mostly flattering the reader into submission.
With less time to process all this impeccable logic into two-stage flattery and recognition, even the loveliest descriptions quickly become little more than a mushy word soup, just as Jane Austen would have become to our Boomer parents and grandparents. How can we continue to assume that flattery gets you everywhere, if you don’t have time to do all that? More recently, all we really have time for is just to tell people what to do.
Adjectives have become dinosaurs, Verbs are their mammalian heirs.
As you’ll remember, ‘doing words’ are not adjectives but verbs. They’ve always been there, evolving where their natural advantages allow but more recently, they’ve begun to out-compete slower, more cumbersome forms. Linguistically, we seem to be experiencing little short of a mass extinction event, a transition from the Adjectivian into the Verbian era, which is every bit as profound as the end of the Austenian eon, long ago. There’s an old political adage that says “if you’re explaining, you’re losing” and it follows that if you don’t then wish to ‘explain’, you won’t need to describe. It’s quicker and, it seems, more productive merely to instruct.
Many commentators have remarked at the growth of the verb-based slogan in the last decade over the adjectival equivalent, particularly its apparent suitability for political slogans. Thus ‘Take Back Control‘ out-performed ‘Stronger In‘ in the 2016 Brexit referendum. Later that year, Trump’s ‘Make America Great‘ pipped Hillary’s ‘Stronger Together‘. In 2019, Boris Johnson told you he’d ‘Get Brexit Done‘ while Jeremy Corbyn’s Labour were, as it transpired, unconvincingly ‘On Your Side‘. When we were faced with the stark uncertainties of the Covid-19 pandemic in the spring of 2020, the measures required of us were boiled down to similarly short, verb-led maxims. We now expect that such comms will follow this simple but clearly effective format and, inevitably, the same is true of marketing messaging.
But here’s the bit that’s often missed: you can’t just tell people anything and expect them to do it – there has to be something in it for them. Remember ‘feature’ and ‘benefit’? That’s still very much a thing, possibly more than ever. So the other stipulation in this new era is that the verb must convey some form of advantage. ‘Make‘, ‘Build‘ and ‘Save‘ all imply the construction or retention of something worth having. ‘Get‘ goes even further; it suggests the acquisition of something worth having. The only downside it has is that it’s harder to adhere to a promise of something being acquired – what if you can’t actually give the thing you’ve mentioned to everyone who read it?. Conversely, making and building things is a process, expected to take longer, which may even be revised thereafter, so it’s much harder to suggest that such a promise isn’t being kept.
Obviously, the other words have to convey some sort of positive outcome. Three words seems optimal but Subway and Alamo have boiled their straplines down to two. “Eat Fresh” and ‘Drive Happy‘ are notable for using only a verb which conveys the things their customers do, paired with a stated advantage imbued in that brand. Both choose not to turn the second word adjective into its correct adverbial form (“freshly” or “happily“).
An actual 1970s soap ad. Spot the sexism.
Back to that hypothetical 1813 luxury soap ad channelling Miss Elizabeth Bennett’s narrator: such a brand would, throughout that century, have extolled at length its highly-acclaimed (but unverified) efficacy, just like Mrs. Lydia Pinkham’s’Vegetable Compound’. By the mid to late 20th Century, its tone would have changed to mirror a more aspirational time, in which even a brand of soap constituted a lifestyle choice. It would also stop being marketed at men because as a household item, only women would be responsible for its purchase. It might suggest an exotic, even ethereal provenance and address psychographic rather than utilitarian benefits. Full-page glossy magazine ads would be filled with nouveau-riche couples smiling confidently, while not using the product, with terms like ‘secret weapon’ and ‘jet-set freshness’ punctuate the lengthy prose before a small picture of the product, suitably lathered, to remind you what’s being sold.
In contrast, such a soap, would now find itself continuing to connote aspiration and success but having slipped to mid-market affordability – or even lower. Social ads now feature a suggestively-posed, provocatively-cropped pair of same-sex, ethically diverse, naked millennials in a bathroom with the ironic headline ‘Get More Lathered’. Obviously, its true market is still 30-to-50s, as it always was, but something has to cut through our heightened defences, to divert eyeballs just long enough to make another 0.05% think it worthwhile clicking for more. Obviously, any hint of sex is a proven way to do that and, given our more enlightened times, we can all pretend that it’s not prurient anymore but inclusive and challenging. Whatever, dude. I made you look.
Again, I’m possibly exaggerating a little for satirical effect – but not by that much. Marketing literature has always been easy to parody because it has always had to be easy to distinguish and recall. Remember: the reason why so many of these historical campaign are so easy to poke fun at now is because, then, they worked.
Some suggestive soap. Possibly more compelling than advertising it in the style of Jane Austen.
20 years ago | Monte Baldo, Veneto, Italy | c.15th May 2003
2003 was my first-ever trip to Italy; a week staying around Lake Garda with friends, sampling the local cuisine and the stunning scenery. Pre-parenthood, it offered us the chance to have the sort of holiday you pack away with other aspects of your life when you have a young family, hoping one day to re-visit. And that’s how it was that I walked down Monte Baldo…
We were staying in Malcesine, on Garda’s eastern shore. There were five of us in all: Helen and me – and three friends. We spent most of the week catching ferries around the lake and finding different places to eat in each different town, every day – which is absolutely the right way to ‘do’ the Italian lakes.
On one of the days, we’d decided to take the cable car from Malcesine up the mountain (Monte Baldo), to see what the lake looks like from above. Even agreeing to do it had been something of a challenge. Not all of our party were thrilled at the prospect of a cable car ride, being not great with heights. Someone had the reasonable idea that if they faced into the mountain from inside the car, the possibility of vertigo would be less pronounced. Unfortunately, this plan was ruined by the fact that, as the car began to ascend, it slowly rotated clock-wise, ensuring everyone had a chance to take in the magnificent views!
Once at the top, we mooched about a bit and – I’m pretty sure – took a drink or two in the bar. When it was time to descend, either I or the other male in the group had the idea of the two of us walking down to meet “the girls” back in the town. The idea was, I’m sure, initially ridiculed but we were determined and before long, we left them to board the cable car down and off we went on the clearly-marked footpath.
It started off as a pleasant hike. The weather was perfect and the view was breath-taking. What was there not to like? And then the topography began to steepen and the path became more challenging. We were two lads from England in trainers and suddenly, we were being overtaken by hard-core Alpine holidaymakers with walking poles. Had we made a mistake here? More disconcertingly, a little later on, one of the next passing party of pole-wielding mountain walkers missed his footing and rolled down the mountainside for an ignominious few seconds.
Our response to the challenge was to go all ‘Lord of the Flies’ and fashion our own staffs from sticks we found in the forest through which the path was cut. As the altitude reduced and the temperature rose, it became necessary for us to wrap our T-shirts around our heads, ‘Rambo’-style. We were going to meet this challenge with a typically British resolve to simply ignore the possibility that we were ill-prepared for the task.
Almost three hours later, the path began to grow less steep and the slab of blue far below had become a thinner sliver of silver just beneath us. Looking like extras from ‘Bridge On The River Kwai’, we marched triumphantly into Malcesine and straight into the bar we’d agreed to meet up at – to howls of laughter from the other three, who’d been in there for at least two hours, by that point.
Monte Baldo is 2,218 m at its highest point. Lake Garda is 65m above sea level. It’s not unreasonable to suspect we walked down two vertical kilometres that day – equivalent to one-and-a-half Ben Nevises or two whole Snowdons. It was a long, long way down.
What I remember most were the physical consequences over the following days. A three-hour workout of muscles you only use when walking downhill had the strangest effect. For the rest of the week, I could still sprint upstairs like before but even stepping off a kerb produced a kind of wince-inducing pain that I’d rarely felt before.
For some reason, Helen found this to be hilarious…
Malcesine and Lake Garda taken from the top station of the cable car. For scale, the lake is approximately two miles across at this point.
Any marketer worth their salt will know the value of segmentation and many will be practising it to some extent – but are you doing it properly?
A few weeks ago, I shared a discussion document, about the ability to predict demand curves across segments – and how it was beneficial to work with a greater number of smaller segments, to aid predictive ability.
But this is only half the point of Segmentation. It’s all very clever to be able to decide which segments will and won’t reward the cost and effort of contacting them but that logic ignores one massive extra variable, which can change everything – the fact that you don’t have to say the same things to the whole list.
Having gone to some trouble to understand and divide up one’s customer base, it doesn’t exactly make a lot of sense to stop there. If we now know what makes the people in ‘SegmentX’ different from ‘SegmentY’, why aren’t we incorporating that knowledge into our messaging?
If we were working in a face-to-face environment, this information would inform our choice of words. A well-known long-standing ‘good’ customer will, of course, be received quite differently to a new face, not quite sure if they’re in the right place. You wouldn’t use the same salesmanship to sell to an elderly lady as you would to a teenage boy. You’d incorporate all the context you have at your disposal.
So why would you expect to gain the best response from an activity that puts the same words and pictures in front of every recipient on the list? The larger your database, the greater the potential to identify distinct differences across the list – and speak to each segment in a context that far more accurately reflects their part in the customer life-cycle.
By that, I don’t just mean the ‘textbook’ groups of Prospects, Triallists, Current Customers, Lapsed and Cold – although that would be a start. There’s also the possibility to identify ‘Risers’, ‘Fallers’ distinctly from the ‘Non-Movers’ (people who are continuing to exhibit consistent purchasing behaviour). At a time of flux in the wider economy, how many of your customers are suddenly struggling to afford the things you offer and are cutting back? How many are now doing well – or have down-traded from a more expensive competitor – and seem to be making a flurry of unexpected purchases? How do you understand these segments? And how do you best stimulate them?
Instead of your brand being simply the same version of itself, whoever is reading – like an old comic book from the analogue age – it should really inhabit a ‘multiverse’, where different audiences view it in different ways and you ensure it engages with each of them accordingly.
Of course, we do practice some context-driven differences in our messaging – but it tends to be informed by the medium, not necessarily the recipients. We’re likely to word our social activities differently because we’re aware of demographic and behavioural biases across them: younger, sharper messaging in Instagram and more professional-sounding, commercially-aware content on LinkedIn. Largely this is based on assumptions of the profile of each medium and, rightly or wrongly, rarely verified by any analysis of the populations themselves.
So, what of email messaging or, more importantly, expensive direct marketing? How are they best served by a ‘once size fits all’ approach to large quantities of very different people?
When this happens, we tend to write imprecisely and blandly. The effect is like Christmas Day television: suitable for all but a bit….boring It can also risk sounding inconsistent, or even self-contradictory to some parts of the audience – but if there is no seemingly viable alternative, we arrive at a ‘lesser of all evils’ fudge. It can result in a *targeted mailing*, which – and I’m exaggerating only a little for the purposes of satire – can read a little like this:
Dear Sir/Madam/Non-binary Identifier
You’ve been a Prospect/Customer of ‘GenericBrand’ for a number of months/years so, like everyone else, you’ll be delighted to learn of today’s exciting announcement.
And, like everyone else, your purchase history and product choices suggest you’ll be really interested to learn about our offer – which we’re also making to anyone else who’ll read it.
Still, we know that this is just right for you because, on balance, this is right for everyone, based on our knowledge that the last time we did this sort of thing, it proved to be a few percentage points more popular than anything else we’ve tried.
Please respond ASAP, to genericbrand.com/genericlandingpage and you too can redeem this great offer – just for you!
Very often, the justification for this sort of uninspring guff is that the polar opposite seems even worse. Using our ‘knowledge’ of the recipient to appear to be a benefit to them seems to be an exercise in proving our omniscience – which can easily scare the reader into wondering what the hell else this company knows about them.
Dear <TITLE> <FORENAME> <SURNAME> of <ADDRESS_1>
We’d like to thank you for being a fan of ‘GenericBrand’ since <TIME_CREATED> on <DATE_CREATED>. Because of your affinity to our brand over the last <DAYS_SINCE_CREATION> days, we think you’ll be interested in this message!
Also, given the fact that, in that time, you’ve placed <TOTAL_PURCHASES> purchases, worth <LIFETIME_VALUE>, we think you’re ideally suited to this offer – <TAILORED_OFFER_1>. We hope you agree, it’s the best offer we’ve made you in <DAYS_SINCE_CREATION> days!
To redeem it, all you have to do is visit genericbrand.com/tailoredoffer/1 and be fully confident that your next purchase – number {<TOTAL_PURCHASES> + 1} – with GenericBrand will be the best you’ve ever made with us!
And, it’ll be with you at <ADDRESS_1> in <POSTAL_TOWN> in no time!
There is – as always – a better solution in between the extremes. Data will always drive these distinctions but salesmanship is still storytelling and, as any film-maker will attest, ’show, don’t tell’ is the best way to go about it. Customers don’t want to be beaten about the head with how much you know about them; they want to know that they’re understood. The data you have is the key to demonstrating that understanding.
Let’s take the ‘Risers’ and ‘Fallers’ idea. Having arrived at a data-led definition of each group, you populate them both with the accounts that meet those criteria and you cultivate an offer which you hope will most clearly chime with their perceived requirements. How do you then go about communicating each one to each group?
First the ‘Risers’. They’ve suddenly started to purchase more but whatever brought about this change may easily be reversed. Their activity needs to be acknowledged and their new-found confidence thanked. In an unstable market, you can’t expect them to simply remain with you indefinitely – you need to protect this new business.’:
Dear <FORENAME>,
You’re amazing!
We’re so pleased to learn that you’ve become such a friend of ‘GenericBrand’ over the last few months. In a changing world, we hope you agree that we can offer you the choice and quality you require – and always the value you deserve!
To thank you for your support, we’d like to offer you <RISERS_TAILORED_OFFER>. We have a good thing going – and we hope we can take it to the next level!
Just go to genericbrand.com/nextlevel– and this offer is yours!
Let’s continue to be amazing – together!
The ‘Fallers’ are giving you the opposite problem. They may like your brand just as much as they always did but can’t justify maintaining their spend. The last thing they want to feel is rejected or forgotten. If they do, they’ll find someone else who values them. Find an offer that reflects this difficulty and reassure them that they’ll always be welcome and that you will continue to value them:
Dear <FORENAME>,
Hi,
We all know this is a challenging time and we’re listening to customers’ stories everyday. Like many of them, you may feel that the way you buy is changing – and we’d like you to know that we want to be part of those changes.
We’d like to offer you <FALLERS_TAILORED_OFFER> to help you make the most of your purchases – and to assure you that we’re here to help in every way we can.
All you have to do is go to genericbrand.com/heretohelp and, together, we can change the way we work – and take on the challenges we’re all facing.
Let’s do this together!
As any superhero aficionado will tell you, “with great power, comes great responsibility”. Very often, the ability to manipulate a database of tens – or even hundreds – of thousands of customers feels like an awesome power. It certainly provides a level of insight and understanding that’s difficult to gain in any other way. It’s therefore every marketer’s responsibility to make those insights matter, by informing the very best content it can.
Don’t just listen to me on this, consider the proclamation of one of the founding fathers of direct marketing. The 40/40/20 Rule’ is a principle established by Ed Mayer in the 1960s which states that 40% of the success of a marketing campaign is based on reaching the right audience, 40% on the offer you make to that audience, with only the remaining 20% based on various other factors such as its presentation and format.
You may be great at the first 40% and I’m sure you’re constantly agonising about the final 20% but are you doing enough to make the middle 40% as good as it could be?
10 years ago | Old Trafford, Manchester | 13th May 2013
Ten years ago, Sir Alex Ferguson retired as Manager of Manchester United and the club won their last Premier League title. A decade on, it’s difficult not to conclude that one of those facts has largely determined the other. I hadn’t attended a trophy parade since an unforgettable afternoon on Deansgate to welcome The Treble winners in 1999 but I decided to drive to Manchester to add my appreciation for the 13th and final title of Sir Alex’s reign….
That wasn’t the only reason. A couple of years previously, I’d managed to interest my son Charlie in going to United matches, freeing him from the clutches of the Liverpool-supporting elements of the wider family before it was too late. This was to be his first opportunity to experience a League Title parade and I didn’t want to miss the occasion – because I distinctly remember wondering (against all hope) that it might be the last for some time.
As we would for a match day, we parked up at The Lowry car park and crossed the footbridge you can see on ‘North West Tonight’, over the Ship Canal, and walked from Salford Quays to Old Trafford. There, we joined the growing crowd of fans waving flags and awaiting the appearance of the team. Behind us were raised camera gantries with several familiar faces: well-known sports correspondents from BBC, ITV and Sky.
Before long, an open-top bus appeared and the crowd cheered its appreciation. Vidic and Evra at the front of the bus, just in front of Van Persie, Ferdinand, Chicharito, Carrick and Giggs. Towards the rear you could spot De Gea, stadium announcer Alan Keegan, Sir Bobby Charlton, a bored-looking Paul Scholes and, right at the back, the man himself, Sir Alex.
A microphone was passed around the players, giving each the chance to individually thank the fans. One or two took the opportunity to show off their singing talents (if that’s the right word). Eventually, it made its way to the back of the bus where The Boss gave a short speech about the determination of the team and his appreciation for the fans’ support over the twenty-five-and-a-half years of his tenure. Predictably, every sentence was raucously applauded.
I thought back to those drab days of November 1986, when the club lost patience with the cavalier style of Ron Atkinson and appointed this dour Scot who’d spectacularly broken the ‘Old Firm’s grip on Scottish football and shared a Scotland dugout with the legendary Jock Stein. Even to a football-mad 13 year-old, his credentials seemed impressive but the big question was whether or not that pedigree counted for anything in the greater challenge of English football.
For the next quarter of a century, we found out – albeit not immediately – that it would. And how! From the shaky beginnings of the late eighties and an FA Cup win in 1990 that began with a supposedly make-or-break win in Nottingham, an avalanche of trophies followed: the first two Premier League titles, two League & Cup doubles in three years and, gloriously, The Treble. A second decade of domestic dominance followed, with another European Champions League and a World Club Trophy thrown in. It was all a far cry from that first game, a 2-0 defat at Oxford United in 1986..
Many of those watching the 2013 parade weren’t old enough to remember a team not managed by Alex Ferguson; nor were they likely to be familiar with the experience of many trophy-less seasons. Those of us who were qualified thus knew not to expect an unbroken succession of trophies from whoever would follow. Pessimistically, maybe – but as things turned out, realistically. I mean it shouldn’t have been like that, given the reputations of some of those who’ve inhabited the Old Trafford hot-seat since then, but the relative struggles of the last ten years have only served to further underline Ferguson’s genius.
When he arrived, we were searching for our next Sir Matt Busby. He eclipsed Sir Matt half-way through his reign and went on to deserve all the adulation he received on that day and since.
We shouldn’t expect to see Fergie’s like again – but another ‘next Busby’ is still not too much to hope for…
30 years ago | The Plough Inn, Galgate, Lancashire | 3rd May 1993
It was hard to be a Manchester United fan in the 1980s. It was a decade of inconsistency, frustration and under-achievement. Worse than that, the dominant team of the age was Liverpool, whose relentless accumulation of trophies further highlighted the gulf between hope and expectation. With each season, the number of years since United’s last league title (in 1967) was quoted ad nauseam by newspapers and rival fans alike. Today, you may feel the need to refer to the word’s smallest violin but that’s largely because in 1993, the counter finally stopped at 26 years…
The inaugural season of the FA Premier League had been another rollercoaster of a season. Unsurprisingly, we’d lost our first-ever game in the new competition, 2-1 at Sheffield United, with Brian Deane scoring its first goal, after five minutes.
Six weeks later, I’d started University. Having chosen Lancaster over my second choice (Salford), I knew the opportunities to get to Old Trafford would be fewer than I’d enjoyed over the previous few seasons. While I was enjoying life as a Fresher, we continued to stagger into the season, drawing five games in a row and then losing to Wimbledon and Aston Villa.
Not that feelings were to be trusted. We’d finished the previous season in second place after imploding spectacularly with weeks to go. And then there was the heady 85-86 season which began with ten straight wins and ended with 16 points dropped in the last ten games. Bitter experience had shown that winning titles required more than mere excitement.
Cantona continued to galvanise the team, inspiring a crucial win at Norwich. Steve Bruce famously did the same, deep into added time, at home to Sheffield Wednesday. A midweek win at Crystal Palace meant that Aston Villa had to beat Oldham to stay in the race on the Sunday. When Oldham got an unlikely win, the wait was finally over – the title was coming back to Manchester.
On Sky’s Monday Night Football, the match at home to Blackburn became the coronation of the first-ever Premier League champions. Kevin Gallagher threatened to dampen the party by scoring for the visitors before goals from Giggs, Ince and – improbably – a Gary Pallister free kick made it 3-1 to United.
I was watching with friends at the Plough Inn in Galgate, a short walk from Lancaster University. At the final whistle, it was a scene of celebrating United fans finally exorcising the ghosts of Charlton, Law and Best. For many, like me, the wilderness years had extended well beyond their lifetime.
As Bruce and Robson lifted the trophy, we witnessed the genial smile of an octogenarian Matt Busby and knew that, truly, the flame of greatness had been passed. For as long as I could remember before that point, I had supported a team, that weren’t the best in England. Now, finally, the pecking order had changed…
TV footage of joint captains Steve Bruce and Bryan Robson lifting the inaugural Premier League trophy after a 3-1 victory over Blackburn Rovers in a carnival atmosphere at Old Trafford
25 years ago | River Thames, London, UK | c.29th April 1998
In April 1998, we are invited to attend the Your Horse magazine industry awards in London. In their fourth year, they were to be presented once again aboard a pleasure cruiser which set off from the Royal Festival Pier, sailing down the Thames almost to the tidal barrier and then back. It was a full day out, and quite ‘liquid’ in more ways than one…
In addition, we’d been nominated for an award: ‘Best Mail Order Company’, with the winner voted for by the readership With more readers than any other magazine in the UK (even the more widely-known Horse & Hound), it was quite an accolade. It seemed to be as close as it was possible to get to an ‘Oscar’ ceremony for such a relatively small industry.
I took the train down to Euston and then the tube to Waterloo. Not being familiar with this part of London, ‘south of the river’, and before the advent of the mobile internet, I expected to need to take a taxi from there. When I got to the front of the taxi queue, I was surprised when the cabbie claimed not to know where The Festival Pier was. Even an out-of-towner from the North knows that every taxi driver has to do ‘The Knowledge’. It made no sense.
It started to make a lot more sense a couple of minutes later when I spotted a sign nearby, advising that the Royal Festival Hall was only a two-minute walk away. So, obviously, was the pier and clearly, the cabbie hadn’t waited for so long in that taxi rank just to get a thirty-second fare.
To tell you the truth, I wish I could remember as much detail about the day itself. The sun shone brightly as we wound our way downstream, showing London’s famous sights, as it often tends to do, in their most flattering light. I think we were already on the hors d’oeuvres as we sailed beneath Tower Bridge. The main course arrived at around the same time as building site of the much-anticipated Millennium Dome. After dessert and drinks, we arrived at the Thames Barrier, where the boat turned around and our hosts started to announce the awards.
As the title to this post suggests, we won the award in our category and I stepped forward to accept the framed certificate and pose for a picture. It’s important here not to get too carried away: winning at one’s industry awards is hardly comparable to collecting an ‘Oscar’ in front of the world’s media but I have to say, it’s a whole lot closer than not winning one. It was still a genuinely thrilling experience and a lovely way to gain a bit of positive PR for months thereafter. Nowadays, the social media value can make the value of such occasions exponentially higher.
Anyway, I’m pleased to have had that experience. It was a lovely day, with good food and good company and it involved a highlight to my career that not everyone can say they have had. That we went on to win this award for a number of years made it even more special.
Receiving the ‘Best Mail Order Company’ award from Lesley Bayley, editor of Your Horse.
10 years ago | Ashton-in-Makerfield Golf Club, Wigan | 20th April 2013
Ten years ago, I was at a charity fundraiser run by our local rugby club and arrived to find that I was to be seated next to a man you’d describe as rugby league royalty – although my grandma might have called him something else…
I had no idea there was going to be anyone noteworthy there but when we arrived, we learned that the organisers had pulled some strings and secured the after-dinner speaking services of St. Helens, Leigh and Great Britain legend, Alex Murphy.
And so I spent much of the evening chatting to a man who’d captained three different teams to win the Challenge Cup, a man who’d had a brief, controversial time as coach of Wigan and the man I’m pretty sure was only ever referred to by my grandma as “that dirty bugger”.
When he rose to speak, I got the sense that he was ‘phoning it in’, probably from delivering the same classic material several times a week over many years to an invariably uncritical audience. But that didn’t matter to me because when I spoke to him, one to one, it was the Alex Murphy I remembered: the gravelly voice, “the Mouth”, the glint in the eye, the fire still burning in his belly.
You’re advised never to meet your heroes but that didn’t bother me because, like anyone in Wigan, ‘Murph’ was always more of a pantomime villain – and even in his seventies, he knew how to play his part. He might have been a swine on the field to opposing fans but the charisma that gave him his competitive edge as a player was still there that night – and it made him great company.
Alex Murphy and me. Say what you like about him – and many have – but he was great company
5 years ago | Chamberlains Farm, Shevington Moor | 10th April 2018
Five years ago, I found myself on a local history Facebook group, in a conversation with a regular poster who knew a surprising amount about our family history. It led to the sharing of an old family secret that’s now available for anyone to read, for many years to come…
Stan Aspinall was the Facebook poster at the centre of this story. Stan is a retired teacher turned town historian who, it turned out, was in the process of writing a book about the history of Standish. As the former Deputy Head of Standish High School in its early days, he was also very well-acquainted with my grandma, Marjorie Bentham, a leading voice in the campaign to build the school and its first Chair of Governors.
We swapped a couple of stories about her and then it occurred to me that I had a couple of nuggets of information that I was sure would be of interest to Stan. The story I had in mind was a little delicate in nature so I warned Stan that it wasn’t really my story alone, to share so as long as there were no living relatives beyond our family, I was happy for him to include it.
A year or so previously, I’d become interested in genealogy and set up a family tree on Ancestry.com. As a result, I’d discovered all sorts of long-forgotten tales: the fact my Grandad had two older brothers who’d died in infancy (both called James – which is why he wasn’t); the story of Harold Latham who was killed in the First World War just over a month before the Armistice; and the story of Charles Ford Asbrey who left Standish, was called up in Australia and died in France after the War had ended, probably of ‘Spanish Flu’. I’d also begun to take note of several verbal recollections within the family.
And it was one of these whispered recollections that was the story I thought would be of interest to Stan. It concerned Ernie Bentham (1877-1945), my great-grandfather… …and his long-term extra-marital relationship.
In 1924, Ernie opened a Cinema in Standish – ‘The Palace’ – which stood where ‘The Hoot’ bar can be found today. Next door, was the sweet shop, run by a young lady called Hettie Charnock, who was almost twenty years younger than Ernie – and his mistress.
By all accounts, it was an ‘open secret’. In a close-knit village (it seems odd to use that word for Standish today but my Grandma always called it “the village”), everyone seemed to know everyone else’s business and anything as scandalous as adultery was almost impossible to keep secret. So why did the relationship last so long? And why did my great-grandmother, Margaret (1877-1955), appear to tolerate it?
One reason suggested was that Margaret had been left with “a disability” following a cart accident, around the time she was pregnant with my grandad’s younger brother Sydney. The story goes that she was aware of – and perhaps even gave her blessing to – her husband’s need to ‘stray’, as a consequence of it.
Had Miss Charnock gone on to have a family of her own, I don’t think it would have been fair to expose this story – at risk of being accused of besmirching a woman’s name, based on little more than rumour. But two things happened to remove such a concern. First, Stan was already well aware of the ‘affair’ and second, Hettie died, aged 100, in 1996, still known by her maiden name. That she lived for so long and never married suggests that she may have really loved Ernie, even decades after his own death. If I’d known all this, I could have even asked her myself – until the age of 23. That sort of realisation starts to make seemingly ‘ancient’ history suddenly begin to feel very real.
And so, with no reason not to publish, the story found its way into Stan’s book and a copy sits today on my bookshelf, waiting to be unearthed in decades to come by someone else who’d like to know a little more about their forebears. Far from being kept in the shadows out of mis-placed judgement and shame, I’m grateful to Stan for including the story – I found it helpful to my understanding of my ancestors and in a hundred years from now, I’m sure that sense of connection will remain just as strong.
30 years ago | Drunken Duck Inn, Barngates, Cumbria | 9th April 1993
In our first year at University, a few of us decided to meet up in the Lake District over the Easter weekend. We arrived at the campsite at Low Wray, on the north-western shore of Windermere and set up our tents.
With everyone having assembled by around tea-time on the Maundy Thursday, there was nothing else left to do but go to the pub. But where was it?
Fortunately, someone had spotted a small sign pointing up the hill about a mile and.a half back down the road to the site. That was good enough for us, so off we wandered, hoping it wouldn’t be too much further from the sign.
Not only was it almost another mile further on but the rest of the walk was a steep incline, climbing for over 300 feet. We were all starting to work up a thirst. Hopefully, this place would be worth the effort required to get there.
Was it ever! We arrived at a charming pub called the Drunken Duck Inn, ordered a round of Old Peculiers and sat outside, around the bench tables across the road. In the mild spring sunshine, we chatted and ate and drank as the evening wore on. Through nothing but pure luck, it just became one of those magical nights when all the elements were perfect.
Not only did we go back the next night but we were there the next year as well, each time expecting the experience couldn’t possibly measure up to that mythical first night. Every time, we were pleasantly surprised that it did. The place seemed to be enchanted, as if it could only be accessed from the outside world via a portal.
I’ve been back a few times since then, over the years – I even bought the T-shirt on one visit. It’s gone a little more gentrified in recent times but at least it’s still there, still legendary. One day I’ll go again and when I do, I’ll sit at those bench tables across the road.
The view towards Ambleside from the bench tables at the Drunken Duck. Photo: Paul Bentham
30 years ago | Shevington Moor – South Woodham Ferrers, Essex | 27th March 1993
Thirty years ago, I spent a weekend in Essex, visiting family. Just over two years after passing my driving test, it was by far the furthest drive I’d done at that point. And it involved the setting of something of a milestone which I doubt I’ll ever come close to repeating…
The weekend before Easter 1993, I nipped down to Essex. To avoid traffic, I set off at about 10pm. This was not an uncommon practice; the M6 Toll was still years away and the M6 between Walsall and Birmingham was notoriously liable to congestion at most times of day.
The other major difference to the roads in those days was the lack of speed cameras. With so many miles to cover and so little traffic, it was also not uncommon to make the best of the conditions – and the anonymity. And so it was that, in this Ford Sierra, I completed the journey to Essex in by far the shortest time it has ever taken me.
It may be thirty years on but I’m still not going to say how quickly it took me to cover the 241 miles – or the average speed I worked it out to have been. The only detail I will add is that I was only overtaken once throughout the whole journey: by a police car with its ‘blues and twos’ on, around Walsall. Call me cautious but it felt like the safest course of action all round, to slow down and let him pass.
It’s important to say that I’m not particularly proud of this ‘record’ and I include the story more to highlight the differences between those times and today. Given the amount of road surveillance added over the years since, it’s probably safe to conclude that it’s almost impossible for anyone to attempt to do anything similar – which is probably better for everyone using the roads.
15 years ago | Great Langdale Campsite, Langdale Valley, Cumbria | 22nd March 2008
From my first year at University, it became something of a tradition for us to go camping in the Lake District over the Easter Weekend. More on that in weeks to come but in 2008, fifteen years after our first camping weekend, we decided to resurrect the old tradition….
There are two things you need to know here:
1, we were no longer students and
2, that year, Easter was about as early as it’s possible to be.
If I remember correctly, one reason for the Easter reunion that year was the impending nuptials of one of our number. Most of the rest of us had already been married off and/or produced offspring. In my own case, with a three-and-a-half year-old by then, it was a very rare opportunity for a night out.
Unlike our first-ever Easter camping weekend, we were reasonably well-prepared. The standard of tents, sleeping bags and other equipment reflected that we’d all become better-funded than in our student days.
Just like our first-ever camping weekend, we did as little camping stuff as possible and disappeared to the nearest pub – in this case, the Hikers’ Bar at the Old Dungeon Ghyll Hotel, I think. And there the evening unfolded as planned, and all was well.
The next morning, I awoke to one of the worst hangovers I can remember. It was made many times worse by the fact that when I opened the tent for some fresh air, I discovered it was actually snowing.
The best thing to do was get out of the tent, sit in the car, with the engine and heating on and nurse the half-bottle of Fanta that I had until such point that I was able to function again.
What felt like weeks later, I became marginally less sickly and 100% more legal to drive. There was nothing else to do but say “we must do this again”* and limp home to groan on the coach and elicit very little sympathy. Good times!
* We’ve never done this again.
Happier times. The campsite before the night out and the snowfall. Photo: Paul Bentham
40 years ago | Chamberlains Farm, Shevington Moor | 17th March 1983
If you wanted schoolboy humour on the telly in the early 1980s, there were plenty of places to find it but for the ‘gold standard’ of the form, there was only one place to look: The Kenny Everett Television Show...
TV-wise, Thursdays were the best night of the week. Perhaps it helped that my Dad used to work late on a Thursday, so it was easier to decide which of the four channels our only colour television would be tuned to, without being over-ruled. As a result, it was inevitably tuned to BBC1 on Thursdays.
I loved Tomorrow’s World and, obviously, Top of the Pops was always ‘appointment TV’, back then. As soon as the TOTP credits had rolled, it was time for ‘Cuddly Ken’ to assail our senses – and what a half-hour it was!
‘Sid Snot’, ‘Gizzard Puke’, ‘Marcel Wave’, ‘Brother Lee Love’, ‘Maurice Mimer’ and ‘Reg Prescott’ were among the blizzard of comedy characters unleashed on our disbelieving eyes. Each one was an instant hit with perfectly-crafted catch-phrases for playground recital, the next day.
I remember liking things that I knew were popular before Kenny Everett but I think it’s fair to say that his show was among the first things I liked because I knew it was ‘cool’. I also can’t think of anything before Ken that I loved specifically because it was subversive. You knew it often skated along the ragged edge of what humour could get away with – which made it all the more appealing.
And there was no greater example of the show’s risqué quality than the sketches featuring the spoof Hollywood actress character, ‘Cupid Stunt’. I can still remember it being one of the highlights of my nine year-old life when I thought to reverse the spoonerism – and shocked myself with what I’d discovered: the most obscene in-joke imaginable, hiding in plain sight.
Ken as Cupid may have offended millions and pushed the boundaries of television’s final taboo, in a far more restrictive age than today – but it really was all done in the best possible taste…
40 years ago | Chamberlains Farm, Shevington Moor | 10th March 1983
What child of the 1970s and 80s didn’t love an American car chase show? I’d been an avid viewer of The Dukes of Hazzard for a few years but one day, I saw something that immediately challenged The Dukes’ status as My Favourite TV Show – Knight Rider…
“Knight Rider, a shadowy flight into the dangerous world of man who does not exist. Michael Knight, a young loner on a crusade to champion the cause of the innocent, the helpless, the powerless in a world of criminals who operate above the law.”
With its synth-pop theme tune and mysterious opening monologue, I was instantly hooked. Suddenly, Bo and Luke in “The General Lee”, their orange ’69 Dodge Charger, started to feel dated and cartoonish, a muscle-car ode to the previous decade.
In contrast, ‘KITT’ was installed with futuristic AI, the cutting-edge looks of an ’82 Pontiac Firebird Trans Am – and he was bullet-proof! It was as 1980s as it could be. What nine year-old could resist the conclusion that this was the future of TV entertainment?
There was another key difference: instead of outrunning incompetent, corrupt cops every week, Michael Knight was an agent for F.L.A.G., the Foundation for Law And Government. As with Star Wars the honour and chivalry of medieval knights was irresistibly fused with mind-blowing technology, like a watch you could make calls from.
Clearly, I was in the key demographic for the show. Just as with E.T., it was so in tune with our worldview, it felt like Hollywood had a direct line to the playground at St. Wilfrid’s Primary School. What I didn’t know, until writing this, was this bit of historical detail, which I found on Wikipedia:
“The studio held a marketing campaign for Knight Rider. Fans could write to the network and they would receive a pamphlet detailing some features about KITT. The first campaign was held in August 1982. The pamphlet said, “The Competition is NO Competition!” KITT was pictured parked alongside a vehicle that resembled the General Lee from Dukes of Hazzard.”
For the record, I never fell out of love with The Dukes of Hazzard but they did become an ‘old favourite’ rather than a current obsession. Before the year was out, The A-Team had also arrived on our screens and, rather than creating competition between these shows (and others, like Magnum, P.I. and The Fall Guy), it simply felt like a golden age of television – although I do remember playground arguments about which one was best.
30 years ago | Roker Park, Sunderland | 27th February 1993
Thirty years ago, I stayed at a friend’s house in South Shields, while he was home from University for the weekend. I’ve been to some pretty cold places around the world but I’ll never forget just how cold it was to stand in a bus queue in Sunderland in February…
Weekends away from University were a great way to see different parts of the country, whether it was visiting friends from home at their Universities or with friends from Uni back to their homes. Over this weekend, aside from the usual activities (a tour of various local pubs) that such weekends usually entailed, we also planned to go to ‘the match’.
The club in question was Sunderland and their ground in those days was Roker Park – an ‘old school’-type ground with wooden stands and end terraces, which had hosted four games at the 1966 World Cup. Naturally, we stood in the Fulwell End, the home fans’ stronghold.
The opponents that day were West Ham United, whom fate had decided would give this game extra notability, due to the untimely death, three days previously, of their (and England’s) former captain, Bobby Moore.
Before the game, 19,068 people observed a minute’s silence as immaculately as, I think, I’ve ever known a crowd to. Moore may have been a West Ham legend but he was (and remains today) the only Englishman to lift the World Cup. It was a powerful moment and a fitting tribute. With the formalities over, the home fans then spent most of the next two hours singing less-than-complimentary songs about Newcastle United fans.
The game itself was a fairly uneventful 0-0 draw which would struggle to live long in the memory – although it earned a point for each side that would keep Sunderland safe from relegation and see West Ham promoted to the Premier League.
What I do remember is the wait for the bus back to South Shields, afterwards. Even though I was fairly suitably attired for the time of year, standing for twenty minutes in the teeth of a bitter easterly wind coming straight off the North Sea is just about the coldest thing I can ever remember doing.
Honestly. I’ve been in far colder temperatures: -20°C in New York, one January; a similar reading in Pennsylvania, in another – and both with significant wind chill. In both instances, staying outside for any amount of time wasn’t a good idea, so I didn’t stay outside long. Conversely, on the ski slopes, the physical exertion of skiing generates the body heat to offset the freezing conditions. I’ve even jumped into an outdoor swimming pool in Denver in winter, reasoning that it must be a heated pool, only to find out that it wasn’t – and it was still a less uncomfortable experience.
If I have been colder than that day in Sunderland, I don’t remember it – and I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t have happened in this country, wherever it was.
I’ve been back to watch a match at Sunderland since then – at the Stadium of Light – but walking back to a car that December night was positively balmy compared to waiting for that bus in 1993.
Roker Park, Sunderland, around the time of my visit. The Fulwell End is to the left. Photo: unknown
I only have a few memories of my great-grandfather, Horace Barker. He was one of only three people I met whom I know to have been born in the 19th Century and he died a few weeks before my 5th birthday so we didn’t have a lot of time to get to know each other.
There are only a few facts about him I can recall: he was a kindly old man in his late seventies, married to my great-grandmother, Hilda. They lived in a bungalow with an immaculate garden and a greenhouse full of the sweetest tomatoes you’ve ever smelled. Unfortunately, my own insight ends there and I have to rely on other data sources to complete my picture of him.
If you know where to look, you can find out more about him. Various census sheets and official documents confirm that Horace was born in Pemberton, Wigan on 29th October 1897, he was a coal-miner, man and boy. He married Hilda in 1921 and together, they had a daughter, Marjorie, on 21st March 1924. He went to seek his fortune in Canada for a few months in 1929 but while he was there, Wall Street crashed – which may have influenced his decision to return home. At the outbreak of war in September 1939, Horace was recorded in the National Register as living at ‘Marus Bridge Shop’ and working as a “Colliery…Chargehand” (under-supervisor) and also a first-aider and an Air Raid Patrol warden. His wife Hilda was listed as a ‘Grocer and Confectioner’.
He was hardened by his experiences at the unforgiving coalface and later, as Colliery Manager, he bore the responsibility of the lives of the men who worked under him. The daily obligation to make life-or-death decisions undoubtedly shaped his outlook – and it’s no surprise to reflect that coal-mining was a formative part of some of the most revered working-class heroes of his generation; men like Matt Busby and Bill Shankly.
It’s not a fatuous comparison. Pop’ (as he was known in later life) once told his grandson – my Dad – during a callow attempt to make ambitious structural changes to a farm building “tha’ll ne’er do it” [You’ll never do it], knowing well that saying so would provide the extra determination to succeed. It worked. Like Shankly and Busby, he was what footballers would call a ‘psychologist’: adept at understanding and motivating others with a mixture of high standards and a gruff, uncompromising demeanour. By all accounts, he was a formidable character – and it’s easy to see why he needed to be.
Today, more than half a lifetime after his death, the world is a vastly different place. Fossil fuels – and their effects – are (literally) unsustainable and we’ve made great strides to power out future by harnessing the natural resources around us. That which we used to have to mine out of the ground to add value to our lives is necessarily diminishing in long-term value. And yet, over the same five decades, humanity has also created something in such a vast quantity that it now forms the most valuable mined resource than anything based in carbon.
Since 2017, it’s become widely accepted that data has become the world’s most valuable commodity, overtaking that long-standing former favourite, oil. The world’s most valuable companies now trade in quadrillions of bits, rather than billions of barrels. Carbon is just so finite, so boringly elusive, so…analogue. Data is different: it’s so dynamic, so ubiquitous, so…sustainable. And, just as with coal, the very juiciest bits of all this data, that inform decisions which can make or break fortunes, are there to be mined from the vastly more voluminous, less valuable stuff, all around it.
To do that, you need to be able to find relevant data, verify its accuracy and understand its meaning. For this you must also have a clear understanding of the problem that the data is being used to solve. You must also be aware of the statistical pitfalls of sticking different data together and making logical conclusions that clearly show that the correlations in the data unambiguously answer the questions being posed. To those who are not familiar with it, data mining may seem like a very indistinct process, maybe even a pseudoscience. But it’s simply a case of trying to create a ‘picture’ of knowledge about a group or an individual, based on available facts, cross-tabulated with other known information, to build a profile. If that still sounds unhelpfully abstract, then re-read the first five paragraphs above and you’ll see that’s exactly what I was doing there; turning documented fact into reasoned propensity.
Obviously, data-mining is not remotely dangerous; the work is not back-breaking work and there’s little chance of contracting long-term health conditions due to the working environment but it’s essentially the same principle – although I’m not sure that miners of old would see it that way. In ‘The Road To Wigan Pier’, George Orwell describes at length the awesome physicality demanded of coal miners, even comparing them to Olympic athletes. Pop once said of his own brother-in-law (whom he considered to be a less capable individual) “I’d durst let him’t strike at mi arse wi’ a pick”. If you cut through the old Lancashire dialect and the, er, slightly industrial language, it was a scathing put-down: ‘I’d dare to him to swing a pick-axe at my backside’ – believing him be too weak to do any harm.
Horace “Pop” Barker’s miner’s lamp. Photo: Paul Bentham
We still have his miner’s lamp, although the reason for its presentation (long-service, retirement or just his actual working lamp, polished up) is now lost in the mists of time. There’s also a brilliantly evocative picture of him, arms folded, his coal-blackened face staring defiantly into the camera, taken at the pit-head – I believe at Chisnall Hall Colliery near Coppull. He died in 1978, before the final decline of the industry that sustained his whole life.
I often wonder what he would have made of the miners’ strike of the 1980s, of Arthur Scargill’s leadership of the National Union of Mineworkers, of Health & Safety law, of the demise of ‘Old King Coal’ and even of the shift to renewable energy.
More than anything, I’d love to explain to him the parallels between his industry and mine: the intricacies of data, profiling and algorithms. With the arrogance of (relative) youth, I might expect the ‘wonders’ of the digital age to blow his Victorian mind. I’d tell him how confidently I could pinpoint the addresses of all the greenhouse-owning pensioners in Standish, based on a few data sources and the internet. I’d like to think he’d tell me I’d “ne’er do it”.
But then I shouldn’t be surprised if it left him largely unimpressed – a lot of statistical inference could easily be termed ‘common sense’. If you’ve had any experience of retail, as he did, you soon develop a sense of what ‘type’ each customer is, based on their buying history and their responses to different stimuli. Grocers in 1939 didn’t need a suite of linked tables to understand which customers would be best suited to which products; their database was in their heads. Computers have merely added the capability to make the same predictions on a far greater scale and with ever-increasing complexity.
Nor would he necessarily be a stranger to the more contemporary concerns of wholesale data collation. As a coal miner in Wigan in the 1930s, he is likely to have been well aware of the famous Orwell book about his hometown. If he were to have discussed Orwell’s most famous novel, ‘Nineteen Eighty-Four’, just over a decade later, he would have become well-acquainted with that age’s most prescient description of data use and misuse – and a delicious historical irony would have followed. I remember the death of the aforementioned ‘pick axe’ brother-in-law in December 1983. At his memorial service, in the days after Christmas, the sermon made reference to the incoming new year (1984) and the parallels in the book of the same name that we should consider. Two or three weeks before Apple Computers famously did it, a vicar in Wigan was riffing on the warnings of the coming year.
There’ll always be a limit to what I can know about Horace Barker, and what I can reliably surmise, There are many closed-off avenues that, tantalisingly, could be re-opened with the provision of just a little more data. That’s the frustration of genealogy – the suspicion that one small discovery may set off a chain reaction of greater understanding. Exactly the same can be said of data mining – which makes the quest for the knowledge it can provide all the more enticing.
If you’ve ever watched the BBC’s Who Do You Think You Are?, you’ll know that sooner or later, the path of genealogy will lead to an ancestor with a less than edifying bit of family history.
And so it was the case when my cousin and fellow genealogy enthusiast came across the story of the events at (our great-great-great grandfather) Henry Bentham’s yard in 1875. This story appeared in the The Wigan Observer and District Advertiser in July 1875. It concerns the inquest in Standish, relating to death of a 14 year-old boy, Charles Renshaw.
DEATH FROM A BLOW WITH A BRUSH AT STANDISH
Mr. Gilbertson, district county coroner, held an inquest at the Wheat Sheaf Inn, Standish, yesterday evening, on the body of Charles Renshaw, who died on Thursday morning from the effects of injuries inflicted the previous Tuesday by a man of the name of Thomas Healey. Mr. Super Intendant Beetham, Chorley, was present. Healey was present in custody.
Ann Bentham, wife of Henry Bentham, grocer, Standish, said the deceased lived with her as a servant for the last two years. He was about 14 years of age; and had told her that his father was a hairdresser and was in Australia, and that his mother, who was addicted to drinking, was in Liverpool. On Tuesday last he went out about half-past seven in the evening, and was brought home about half-past nine o’clock; but she did not see him till the following morning. He was then insensible, and he grew worse and died Thursday morning.
Seth Ollerton, Standish, son of John Ollerton, collier, Standish said he knew the deceased. He was with him near the Wheat Sheaf when the omnibus came up, about half past eight o’clock on Tuesday evening. They afterwards went into the yard, and witness and deceased and some other boys began to unfasten the horses. Wm. Bentham, or as he was called ‘Billy Dog’, who was the driver, got hold of the deceased and put him down on the ground, and rubbed his head with some straw.
The prisoner, Thos. Healey, was present, and got hold of the driver’s whip and laid on deceased with it, after telling him he had no business in the yard. Deceased refused to go out, and picked up half a brick and threw it at the prisoner, striking him on the back of the hand. Bentham, the driver, came up and took the whip from prisoner, who seized a brush that was standing at the stable door and going up to where the deceased was, struck him on the back of the head with it.
Witness was close by at the time, and could see that the deceased had another piece of brick in his hand, ready to throw at the prisoner. Deceased fell on the ground after receiving the blow with the brush, and blood came from his nose. A woman who lived in the street opposite, came and lifted the deceased up.
James Grounds and Edward Pennington were present in the yard at the time:
“We were driven twice out of the yard by you and we came in a third time, and were told by you that it was time we were at home and in bed. We went outside the gate way and deceased cursed the prisoner, and said he would not go away for him.
“Prisoner then took up the brush and said he would make him go, and struck deceased with it. All of the boys ran away but the deceased. The deceased told me that he had had a pint of whiskey that day.” – The Coroner: “I cannot put that down.” – The Sergeant of Police: “Mrs. Bentham can prove he had had no drink.”
James Grounds (13), son of James Grounds, shop keeper, Shevington, said he lived with the deceased at Bentham’s. He was with him on Tuesday night, and waited about at Chadwick’s till the omnibus from Wigan came, about 23 minutes after eight o’clock. They followed it into the Wheat Sheaf yard, and deceased began to act as if he were drunk. “‘Billy Dog’ rubbed deceased’s face with straw, and prisoner seized a whip and struck him with it. Deceased thereupon seized a stone or brick and threw it at him, and the driver took the whip from prisoner, saying he could lay on with the brush.”
Prisoner accordingly went to the stable door and got the brush, and the deceased meanwhile picked up half a brick. Witness went into the stable, and when he came out deceased was lying on the ground, near the gateway, bleeding from the nose and mouth. Prisoner said he had dazed deceased. – By the prisoner: “There were ten boys in the yard. Deceased told me he had had a sup of drink, but he did not seem to be the worse for it, as he ran a race with me a short time before this.”
Mary Sutton, wife of Robert Sutton, Standish, labourer, said she lived opposite the gateway leading to the stable yard of the Wheat Sheaf. She saw the prisoner whip the boys out of the yard at about nine o’clock on Tuesday night, and amongst others the deceased, who stood at the gateway, while the others ran away. “Prisoner whipped the deceased twice, and after the latter had thrown at stone, which hit the prisoner on the hand, he went towards the stable and returned with the brush and struck the deceased in the back of the head. The deceased fell down, and witness ran across the road and saw he was bleeding from the nose and mouth. He did not speak; and he was carried away.”
John L. Price, surgeon, Standish, said he was sent for to attend the deceased shortly after nine on Tuesday night. On arriving at the Wheat Sheaf yard he found the deceased, who was insensible, supported by two men. A plank was procured and the boy laid upon it, his head being raised by some straw. He was bleeding from the nose and mouth, and he seemed in a dangerous state. There was some ashes about his face, and on washing away the dirt he found a swelling behind the left ear.
Finding that the boy did not rally he got four men to carry him to his own home. He last saw him at nine o’clock the night previous to his death. The deceased never regained consciousness. He had made a post-mortem examination of the deceased’s body, and found a fracture of the skull at the point behind the ear where the bones meet. Death resulted from compression of the brain caused by the fracture of the skull, and might have been caused by a blow.
The Coroner summed up the evidence, and recommended a verdict of manslaughter, but the jury returned a verdict of accidental death.
Henry Bentham doesn’t come out of this story particularly well, as the owner/operator of the Omnibus – his 1871 census entry under ‘Occupation’ was ‘Grocer and Omnibus Proprietor’. His wife Ann (née Grounds) seems to have been more connected with the grocery mentioned in the census. Her brother James was also grocer, in Shevington and it is his son James (Ann’s nephew) who is the 13 year-old lodger mentioned in the story.
Henry and Ann’s eldest son, William sounds like a particularly undesirable person. Aside from cultivating the nickname ‘Billy Dog’, it is he who, at best, fails stop stop Healey from attacking the boy – and may even have encouraged that kind of behaviour. These event take place two years before the publication of Black Beauty, a story of common Victorian attitudes to animal welfare. One can only imagine if ‘Billy Dog’ was the kind of horse owner that compelled Anna Sewell to comment on the horse cruelty of the day.
Henry and Anne’s second son and William’s younger brother was James Bentham, my great-great grandfather. You can read about his exploits as he travelled across the United States, 37 years later. Their youngest brother, George had his own tale to tell of travels in North America, which I’m still researching.
Rather depressingly, this incident paints a picture of the cheapness of life and the inevitability of casual violence against children in the 1870s. Incredibly, the jury delivered a verdict of accidental death and weren’t invited to consider any charge greater than manslaughter. It’s worth considering that the facts established in this case might today support a charge of murder. Almost forty years after the publication of Oliver Twist, many of the themes that Dickens explores in that novel still seem to exist in Standish. ‘Billy Dog’ seems similar in nature to ‘Bill Sikes’, the story’s main antagonist – even though the accused in this case is his sidekick Thomas Healy. Charles Renshaw, while not an orphan, is said to have been abandoned by an absent father and a feckless mother. As with ‘Nancy’, he meets a brutal end at the hands of an abusive man.
A Manchester Carriage Company horse bus in Eccles town centre, c.1870. Photo: The Museum of Transport, Greater Manchester
10 years ago | SoccerDome, Wigan | 23rd February 2013
Ten years ago, when I was a ‘Rugby Dad’, I was playing for the team’s off-shoot ‘Dads’ touch rugby team one night, when Sky Sports cameras rocked up and took some footage. A day later, it popped up on my screen…
As any parent of a sporting child knows well, one minute they’ve joined a club, the next, your weeks became quickly punctuated by training sessions in midweek and a match on Sundays. With tournaments, club outings and end-of-season presentation nights to attend, being involved in junior rugby very quickly became less of a parental commitment and more of a lifestyle choice.
So as surely as a kick follows a fifth tackle, the idea of a ‘Dads’ team was floated. It was touch rugby, to maximise participation and to take part in the healthy network of mini-leagues in and around Wigan. It was a great way to boost the fitness levels and a bit of fun on a Friday night.
One night, we arrived to find a Sky Sports camera crew there, to take footage for a piece on the inclusivity of rugby league. When it was time for our fixture against the Orrell St. James’ Ladies’ team, suddenly the cameras were trained on our pitch.
I didn’t think much more about it, expecting to end up ‘on the cutting room floor’. A day later, I happened to have Sky Sports News on and heard the introduction to a piece about touch rugby. Surely, it couldn’t be last night’s footage, could it?
And then there we were – and, if you look really carefully, there I was. The few seconds’ footage of our game against OSJ Ladies came from a time when I was on interchange, which is why I’m at the top of the screen, off the pitch.
Despite the fact I appeared on a minor channel, at the back of the shot, for all of three seconds, fame is still yet to beckon…
15 years ago | The Metropole Hotel, NEC, Birmingham | 17th February 2008
Fifteen years ago this week, I found myself at an awards ceremony in Birmingham – as one does – and couldn’t wait to get away and drive home. I’d just heard that I’d officially become an uncle for the first time…
Max Bentham was born in Wigan Infirmary on 17th February 2008. By then we already had our own three year-old so the novelty was not of there being another generation but the realisation that I wouldn’t just be a parent but would also get to inherit all the (often cooler) privileges of being slightly removed from parental responsibility. I was fortunate enough to have the same realisation when Max’s sister, Abi, was born the following year.
I should also give a mention to the ‘unofficial uncle’ status I hold amongst the children of close friends – and to all those ‘aunts’ and ‘uncles’ who also enjoy that status. Peter Kay once said “He’s not my real uncle – my dad borrowed a belt sander off him once” but this (is it predominantly a Northern thing?) practice of imbuing semi-familial status is a special honour that’s far more profound than merely a work-around to stop kids calling adults by their first names.
It’s been fantastic to watch Max grow and develop over the last fifteen years and it’ll be wonderful to see what mark he (and Abi) will make on the world. In particular, it’s been lovely to help him develop his love of cinema, especially science fiction. Countless Film Night’ appointments in recent years (usually featuring my own version of ‘KFC’) have seen us watch – and discuss – a wide range of films and themes. He’s always amazed me with his perceptiveness and the maturity of his observations.
Eagle-eyed observers may have noticed that this week’s Weekly Pic is taken neither at Wigan Infirmary nor The Metropole Hotel. Similarly, it seems not to include any day-old infants. I have a picture of Max, aged a few hours old but, hey, he’s about to turn fifteen – do you think he wants that kind of thing plastered on the internet? I’m not going to do that to him – that’s what parents are for!
Instead, here’s a picture of the two of us last year at Villa del Balbionello on Lake Como, at exactly the spot where Anakin Skywalker married Padmé Amidala in ’Star Wars Ep. II: Attack of the Clones’. If enabling his inner Star Wars nerd is the only way I’ve ever influenced him, I’d say that was an uncle’s job well done!
Racehorse Handicapping: Predicting the Unpredictable?
The role of a horseracing handicapper is to ensure that each horse in a race is carrying enough weight to offset their differing capabilities and their varying levels of form. It’s seen as a vital task because it means that, in theory at least, champion horses in the peak of their form are matched more evenly with their less illustrious competitors, ensuring a more tightly contested, less predictable race.
Taking the logic to its natural conclusion, the handicapper will only have done their job correctly if all horses in a race cross the line at the same time. While it’s possible (but still unusual) to have a dead heat in a two-horse or, in extremely rare cases, in a three-horse race, it’s functionally impossible for this ever to happen in a race involving a larger number of horses.
Famously, the Grand National is never a close race, using the definition of closeness as the difference between first and last places – indeed many horses fail to complete the course each year and the favourite rarely wins. There are just too many horses, too many obstacles, there is too much distance and arguably, there is too much that is unusual about the preparation to ever confidently hope to call a winner, let alone be able to harmonise the finish across the whole field. In probability terms, there are simply far too many unknown variables to trust any form of predictive modelling that would ever enable a handicapper to achieve the ‘Holy Grail’ of all horses crossing the finish line at the same time. In the face of such overwhelming statistical evidence to suggest its basic futility, why is handicapping necessary?
The answer is that ensuring a dead heat is not the point of handicapping at all. Handicapping is there to offset perceived differences in horses’ abilities and form. It acts as a regulator for betting, ensuring that favourites will not be favoured by the betting public by as wide a margin and that ‘dark horses’ will be viewed less darkly than they would be without handicapping. It serves the industry behind the sport, not the sport itself. There is no handicapping in Athletics purely because the sport exists primarily as a discipline to discern which athlete is the fastest (and by how much). Only the overlay of betting leads to the necessity of handicapping – something which many might see as a perversion of the conventions of pure sport.
Uncovering the ‘real’ reason behind the point of handicapping seems rather dull, irrelevant and perhaps even a little dispiriting but the subject is still of value because it acts as an interesting analogy that mirrors the issues of what can and what perhaps can’t be predicted – and to what extent, the distinction between the two states may become blurred.
Direct Marketing & Parallels with Racehorse Handicapping
The role of a Direct Marketer is to predict, accurately, the event of each customer choosing to make a purchase from an offering in a given time-frame – or not, as the case may be. As with handicapping, various models exist to discern the factors that most affect future behaviour. As with handicapping, these models are widely accepted as being able more reliably to predict the general level of behaviour than would otherwise be the case. As with handicapping, there are far too many variables to translate such improvements at the individual level. At this point, even the offer to give away £1,000 of vouchers with every £10 order will still only yield a certain percentage of response – it will not motivate every customer into action, often for a variety of what appear to be illogical reasons.
It may be suggested that the ‘Holy Grail’ of Direct Marketing is just as simple and just as unobtainable as the race where all horses cross the line together. It is an activity which is segmented using a profile which can determine only those customers who will order.
In reality, for this to occur, not only must this segmentation yield a 100% activation rate for the successful segment, but it must also be shown that all other segments will always yield a 0% activation rate – a practical impossibility.
Just as a handicapper may occasionally achieve a 2-way dead heat, a Marketer may occasionally achieve a 100% activation in a segment with a very small sample. In that circumstance, the Direct Marketer’s expectation is always that that offer, made more broadly, must be transferrable to other segments, uplifting their performance. The activity is then repeated through various other segments with the expectation that it keeps performing profitably until it fails. In short, the ultimate goal state of a Marketer can therefore never happen, as another sale can always be found.
Even if a model existed to find just the people who would only ever respond to a given stimulus (its magnitude), it would still be akin to believing “this is all the sales you can ever make”. It would be perfectly efficient, of course but it doesn’t necessarily mean that revenue is increased by all that much. It just clarifies the process of when to stop chasing the extra sales.
In reality, this a problem we’re highly unlikely ever to face. Customers are people and people are (at the individual level) incredibly difficult to predict. The ‘Holy Grail’ state just shows us what a perfect level of predictability would look like, which is useful when it comes to comparing and evaluating our own methods.
Applying a Predictive Model in Direct Marketing
As a contrast to the imaginary problem above, real-world examples of response rates across the segments of an activity tend to adhere to a more familiar principle: the law of diminishing returns.
This is taken from campaign data from a previous Spring/Summer campaign, using segments driven by our prior ‘Points Analysis’ method of segmentation and recorded from response codes given during telephone orders. For this reason (as it therefore ignores web orders from that campaign), the percentages are not relevant here, just the shape of the curve.
As with the ‘Holy Grail’ curve above, it starts off steeply, implying that this is a clear way to predict the responsiveness of one group over another. However, as the trendline (I’ve used a logarithmic trendline, by the way) progresses along the segments, it flattens so that by the lower segments, it almost represents an admission that the model can’t really say if the second to last segment contains significantly more predictable customers than the last segment.
Using the ‘revenue-building’ logic discussed above, this uncertainty can be (and often is) presented as a positive feature. As long as the responsiveness is at a profitable level, this ‘long tail’ becomes something of an asset, as it assures the Marketer that more sales can be added, with a positive ROI until the point on the axis where the curve touches the break-even point of response. The fact that these sales happen to come with decreasing levels of efficiency may be seen as a price worth paying.
One rather fundamental problem in the collation of the above chart was that the response metric was based on order-level, not customer-level responses. At this point, we need to be rather pedantic: the issue of predictiveness relies ultimately on the response of an individual to a stimulus, which is then grouped by the segments of similar individuals. Using the principles of RFM (the categorisation of customers by Recency Frequency and Monetary Value), order-level analysis conflates the effects of both R and F, when we require them to be viewed in isolation. To illustrate this point, consider that one hundred orders from a given segment may imply one hundred responding customers but it could in reality translate to just one very responsive customer – or any combination of reciprocal factors between.
Since then, we’ve adopted the more standard Binary segmentation model, which ensures the monitoring is at the customer-level, preferring the percentage metric ‘Activation’ (customers who ordered in a given season as a percentage of customers stimulated, by category) over the more traditional, order-level metric ‘Response Rate’ (orders received using a given response code as a percentage of catalogues circulated with that media code). The uncertainty factor of one customer ordering a hundred times versus a hundred customers ordering once each has been subsequently removed. We can now monitor precisely how many customers have ordered, as well as the number of orders those customers have placed, collectively and individually.
The Activation performance of the Binary list for the most recent Spring/Summer campaign, expressed for each group shows a similar curve, implying the same adherence to the law of diminishing returns as the older Points Analysis-derived curve above.
Once again, the asymptotic (flattening) curve implies a longer tail beyond the limits of the mailing list, which, using the methodology of the Binary process (with its allocation of decreasing points for customers ordering increasingly further back in time), also implies that further revenue can only be attracted at a less efficient rate. In effect, it’s almost telling us that after a certain point, we can mail anyone using this rationale and we’ll probably get the same return, whatever it is. This is hardly what you would call a predictive model.
All this is implied but none of it can be taken for granted, just as no segment that yields 100% Activation ever implies that the ‘Holy Grail’ has been achieved – there is always the question “what further potential is there?” to answer. It’s clear that we need other means of predictiveness to unlock the secrets of the deeper recesses of our mailing list.
The Limitations of the Binary System
Largely as a result of the paranoia/healthy scepticism (call it what you will) of putting all our eggs in the basket that is Binary segmentation, we have, since adopting Binary, also endeavoured to add a wider pool of customers to our recent mailings selections than merely those segments suggested by that system. It’s not unusual or ground-breaking to do so; it’s a practice that’s routinely done by even the most faithful proponents of Binary segmentation and it’s called deep-diving.
Using our previous (semi-proven) Points Analysis system as our deep-dive axis, we mailed representative samples from these deeper segments of customers and named them groups -1 to -5, in accordance with the Binary nomenclature.
What we found was that a huge proportion of the -1 group customers were activated (far more than we had anticipated), the equivalent of the Group 12 Binary segment, i.e. the best segment of the ‘Good’ portion of the list. Thereafter, the activation rate dropped massively for the -2 segment and continued to tail off gradually through to the -5 segment.
Perhaps it should come as no real surprise that there is a significant increase in activation in any Binary analysis from the 1 segment to anything that is essentially the ‘best of the rest’. I have to presume that a known increase in activation at this point in the list is not only common but probably also a phenomenon that is to be expected. Conversely, I have no idea if the level of disparity at this point is generally as great as we have found it to be. I rather suspect it isn’t.
There are two benefits to this figure being so notably high, which represent the twin roles of predictive segmentation I have already outlined. Firstly and most prosaically, it represents almost 7,000 activated customers and almost £300,000 of additional revenue. Secondly, it gives us a definition of customer type that we know we can continue to stimulate efficiently and it strongly indicates at what point this metric provides segments that are inefficiently stimulated. It also calls into question the wider viability of a system that seems to ignore a cohort of customers who are capable of yielding half as many activations as those it selects.
Ordinarily, as the Direct Marketing wheel turns and the results of one campaign’s test shape the standard practice in the next campaign, thoughts turn to the question of what methodology to test next. With such a statistical disparity as this, it’s also difficult to escape from the conclusion that the Binary model as it stands may not be wholly suitable for our requirements. This is not to say that the practice hasn’t been worthwhile or indeed that the notion of measuring campaign performance at the customer level isn’t of value. In fact the opposite is true: With ever more ordering methods, media codes as a means of recording performance are dying and, even if we could resurrect them, we would return to the same non-relational order-level analysis that tells us nothing about the customers on whom our business depends.
I would always advocate a customer-level metric, even if I might always wish for a method of segmentation that is more clearly suited to our list profile. The reporting disciplines required and indeed the limitations that customer-centricity can have on budgeting for additional in-season activities are all, in my view, a small price to pay for the insight the analysis can give to actual customers. As we move inexorably to a more sophisticated multi-channel interaction-based data model which encompasses customers’ web visits, email responses, retail transactions and even social media activity, it is clear that our basic ‘currency’, the only differentiating factor we have, to analyse anything of significance will eventually (and then always) be at the customer level.
Having said that, if we’re at the point of re-drawing the boundaries of what constitutes ‘very good’ customers from ‘good’ and so on, we can also have an eye on what shape of curve we’d like it to produce, based on recent customer behaviour tracked against information known about customers before that activity occurred. As I have already outlined, the process of measuring the performance of an activity has two basic roles: to assess both its magnitude and its efficiency. A curve that simply emphasises the magnitude of success is too steep and does little to imply where further success might be found. A curve which places too much concentration on efficiency tends to be too horizontal and very quickly can become practically non-predictive.
Obviously, there will always be customers who are more responsive than others in any database so it’s true to say that any curve will show degradation. In fact, as it’s a symptom of a correct profiling methodology, activation curves should have a degrading, downward-sloping shape from customers who are predicted to be the most responsive, down. It’s also fair to presume that if you measure a list against any given single metric, there will always be a ‘best of the rest’, chosen using a different metric which may out-perform the usual list, so at some point a secondary or even a tertiary segmentation metric should be considered. A problem can occur if those segments suggested by other metrics out-perform the primary-metric segments by too much. This may imply that a better, more appropriate primary profile would have included those names in the first place, something which would ensure the risk of missing such customers from a future campaign is minimised.
An Easy Win: Challenging the Timeframe
One way to improve the primary metric we have (Binary) may be to re-define that timescale of the selection. The version of Binary that we’ve adopted is based on Yes/No (or 1/0, hence the name ‘Binary’) classifications for a customer’s ordering profile over each of the last four six-month seasons. It is entirely predicated on the fairly standard assumption that a customer is a customer from the date of their first order until exactly two years beyond the date of their last order. By extension, anyone on the list who hasn’t ordered for over two years must be considered a lapsed customer and is removed from the house list. They may continue to be contacted, but only as part of a reactivation programme.
The fact that the Binary system is based on a two-year model and the fact that it was adopted by ‘mainstream’ catalogue operators such as Littlewoods and La Redoute seems to have a fair degree of compatibility. I have always been (and remain) dubious that the simplistic ‘two year rule’ applies as strongly in a niche market such as our own. As a ‘safety net’ against pinning our performance on adhering to it, I ensured that our mailings included a ‘best of the rest’ deep-dive, based on high point-scoring customers (who would therefore have been mailed under our previous segmentation model), who, being outside of the Binary segments would therefore have been inactive for over two years.
As we have seen from the most recent data, this 30,000-deep segment yielded a response (and therefore a Return on Investment) performance, similar to the ‘12’ group in the standard 4-season Binary model. Evidently, our less Recent, more Frequent and/or higher Monetarily-valuable individuals were able to outperform most of their more Recent counterparts. The cut-off at two years has always seemed arbitrary and inappropriate for us – and these figures appear to support that position. Recency is therefore not necessarily ‘king’ in a niche market, even if it may be considered as such by more mainstream operators.
To corroborate this view, perhaps it’s helpful to contrast the characteristics of a mainstream proposition and a mainstream customer with those propositions in a more niche market context.
Mainstream v Niche: Some Observations
Mainstream catalogue companies have tended to define their core markets more by the way they choose to buy (i.e. by choosing not to walk into a shop) far more than by the type of products they buy. They are in competition with a far wider section of the market, selling standard products to a broad section of the public. Light fittings, pyjamas, holiday footwear and all the other day-to-day offerings were always generally available on any high street or in a plethora of other catalogues or websites, in which there is usually massive competition. It is therefore difficult for them to create a sense of what their brand represents beyond their pricing, the quality of their merchandise and their service – certainly no-one can define their range as a whole as representing and supporting a ‘lifestyle choice’. Even before the further commodification of retail by search engine and affiliate sites, their offering was often close to being commodified by the presence of so much competition.
It is easy (and perhaps fair) to conclude that they must therefore adopt a ‘plenty more fish in the sea’ approach to customer retention over acquisition. If customers are that easily acquired, and if retention can prove to be so difficult, it follows that it is seen as far easier to entice a new customer than it is to win back one who has not been back for a relatively short amount of time. It’s dangerous to suggest they acted arbitrarily in arriving at two years as the determinant of dormancy; it seems reasonable to expect that it was driven by their data, suggesting a parameter that was appropriate for their purposes.
Conversely, niche market businesses tend to define their customers by a specific activity or affinity, which is to a greater or lesser extent important to all of their customers. They may find that the percentage of customers willing to buy remotely in that market is far higher than in general (historically) because of the relative lack of credible alternatives. Broader ranges of products that appertain to that activity or affinity may be more difficult to build, depending on the obscurity or the scope of that activity or affinity. Wider competition will always be present but, at their strongest, these niche markets are filled with customers who define their interest as a ‘lifestyle choice’. These brands do not just purvey goods, they represent or even define a lifestyle.
In a niche market, almost by definition, there aren’t quite so many ‘other fish in the sea’ and even customers who have been lapsed for a number of years are a far greater prospect to approach once more than any attempt to trawl for a fresh batch. If customers are not so easily acquired, and if retention proves less difficult than in the mainstream sector, it follows that it is disproportionately easier to entice an older customer than it is to acquire a new one. It seems clear that these markets inherently find the mainstream parameter of dormancy at two years to be inappropriate for their purposes.
Extending the Binary System from Two Years to Three
The Binary system’s strengths are its customer-centricity, its ability consistently to predict the difference in response between more regular-and-recent and less regular-and-recent customers and its scalability. Its weakness is the fact that we can prove that it has omitted perfectly responsive customers. Perhaps this can be corrected by using its scalability to ensure that they are re-admitted into the process.Under a four-season (two-year) standard model, the categories are defined by fifteen groups, which is the number of permutations of order activity (or inactivity) across four seasons. One point is awarded for the least recent reported season (four seasons ago), there are two points for an order three seasons ago, four points for orders from the penultimate season and eight for the last season. The number of points awarded doubles, the more recent the season, which seems like an arbitrary system but is actually an ingenious mechanism to ensure that every single permutation is represented by a different number of points.
In this way, we may contend that Recency is a vital factor in predictive modelling whilst also expecting to target customers that are patently less Recent in profile. The crucial point being that we have evidence that suggests we cut off responsive customers too readily by adhering to a ‘two-year rule’. By re-introducing segments of longer-dormant customers, we become able to evaluate their relative value – and therefore the predictiveness of this wider flavour of Binary analysis. Like the current four-season model, there’s also the thorny issue to consider of how many high-performing customer segments that even this model may continue to ignore.
We can’t turn back time but we can simulate the conditions of a six-season Binary selection. It is possible to re-order the customers we may have selected for the current Autumn/Winter campaign using a six-season Binary model. From there, we can identify not only which customers were mailed but also which customers placed an order in the current campaign and compare them with the equivalent responses using the usual 15-point, four-season Binary model. With six seasons, the number of permutations of orders increases from 15 to 63.
This hugely increases the level of granularity that the list analysis can give and will also help to establish the importance of the 5th-last and 6th-last season on predictiveness for a forthcoming campaign. Using four seasons (two years), the Binary graph for Activations from the current Autumn/Winter campaign to late November looks like this:
The same response data under a six-season (three year) Binary grouping shows a similar degradation but with more definition between high-performing and low-performing segments.
The added granularity helps to provide more evidence of predictiveness at each end of the Binary spectrum. Almost two hundred more customers are classified in groups which yielded an Activation rate of over 40% than in the 15-point model and over six hundred more customers are classified in groups which yielded less than a 10% Activation rate. If a 10% rate was shown to be the break-even point for inclusion, then this information would identify names who the Binary model would not predict a sufficient response. If no other justification could be found to mail those names, then that information could demonstrate a saving of unnecessary expenditure.
A ‘Health Warning’ for Any Model of Segmentation with a Single Axis
As we’ve already seen, demonstrating a suitably stratified segmentation model is only the first requirement of achieving a fully-optimised list. We must also ensure that no other potentially responsive segments are omitted. I’ve also highlighted the almost inevitable need for some subsequent segmentation criteria to exist beyond the reaches of the primary (in this case, Binary) model. Not only should this process stimulate as many as possible of the remaining responsive segments (a ‘best-of-the-rest’ group), it should also seek to test other responsive techniques beyond that.
A good example of that methodology would be the segmentation of customers, irrespective of Binary and Points, who have previously ordered during a Sale for a mailing of a Sale Catalogue. This is based on a given principle (that a customer is a known Sale responder). In the field of probability, this is known as Conditional Probability: where a given condition already exists, results in outcomes with a higher degree of probability and therefore predictiveness. The methodology appears sound but the result may or may not agree but either way, the results of that decision will shape our future selections.
Currently, our preferred secondary metric is the Points from our long-standing ‘PointsAnalysis’ table, which was created for our previous segmentation technique, where customers accrue 100 points every time they order, gain 1.5 points for every pound they spend and lose a point for every day that passes without an order.
In order to pursue this line of segment development, we will need to more clearly record what segments were used and on what basis. Where transient variables such as Points are used, the figures at the date of segmentation need to be written back to the database to enable better, easier analysis and cross-reference between the segments used and their eventual performance.
As part of my reconstruction of a six-season Binary in Excel, I have been able to identify customers mailed with and responding to the Spring/Summer Deep Dive catalogues. I have also been able to reverse engineer their historic Points level at around January 15th, based on their November Points and their known activity since January. This graph is what that analysis suggests. I can’t guarantee perfect accuracy within each Points band but I can say that the totals for each group match those given by a report for the activity of groups -1 to -5.
These responses strongly suggest that there are responsive customers to be found outside of the 4-season Binary model we employed in that season, bearing in mind that the Activation level for Binary group 1 was 4.6% and the “-1” Deep Dive group yielded around 18% Activation.
Conclusion
There’s nothing wrong with mailing across multiple axes of segmentation, as long as the hierarchy is established (if a customer qualifies for a segment in each method, which one wins and which method is left with the rest?) and as long as each segment is performing well. Curves which become too horizontal may still be predictive at the level of each category but also show that the method itself has begun to lose its predictiveness at that point. Thought should be given to the point in the list/on the axis at which one model is abandoned and another is given free rein to replace it.
For example, using the derived ‘live’ data for the current campaign below, comparing six-season Binary with Deep-Dive, based on Points, it may be concluded that, long tail or not, groups 1-4 should not be mailed but those quantities replaced by the best of the rest on the Points scale.
There are of course too many variables to merely prescribe a ‘one-size-fits-all’ answer here. Issues of quantities of names available within each group together with associated AOVs and break-even Activation levels all play a part. The main issue at this stage is that we give ourselves the impetus, and the tools, to break away from a single system of segmentation, as long as our focus remains at the customer level.
Whatever we do, it should be a far more scientific process than simply betting on the horses…
10 years ago | Howlett’s Wild Animal Park, Canterbury, Kent | 8th February 2013
Ten years ago, we made a half-term trip to Kent, which involved a visit to Howlett’s, just outside of Canterbury.
If you’ve never been, it’s a brilliant place. Bought in 1956 by John Aspinall, a casino owner, friend of Lord Lucan and member of ‘The Mayfair Set’ to house his private menagerie, it was opened to the public in 1975.
It was later re-organised as a charity (the John Aspinall Foundation) and has since become well known for its conservation programmes, particularly the western lowland gorilla. If you’ve ever seen footage a wild gorilla in the jungle emotionally greeting the man who’d released him years previously, that man will have been Damian Aspinall, John’s son, who now manages Howlett’s and its sister park, Port Lympne, also in Kent.
We’d been to Howlett’s before but this time, I wanted to take some better photos of the animals and, before long, we arrived at the Amur tiger (also called the Siberian tiger) area. It just so happened that the park had managed to breed two new cubs but had had to rear them by hand, after their mother showed no interest in them. This was the week the five month-old siblings, Kazimir and Arina were given their own enclosure.
Elsewhere, the various tigers are usually fairly motionless, as big cats tend to be. One of the Sumatran tigers was sat on the roof of his shelter, gnawing quietly on what was clearly a pony’s leg. In the interests of creating engaging photography, these cute, inquisitive cubs were clearly a more interesting option.
And so we waved at them, spoke to them, engaged their curiosity and ran up and down the side of their enclosure, hoping they’d respond. Kazimir, the young male was more inquisitive and started to follow. It led to us being ‘chased’ by this young tiger – with a fence between us, obviously – repeatedly up and down the length of the enclosure, until he became bored of us. The fence didn’t help much with the photography but it was quite a privilege to connect with such a beautiful, exotic animal – and I managed to get a lot of great pictures of the two cubs.
I read a great article recently (see below) in ‘The Drum‘, a great resource for stories in the world of Marketing, in which it is argued that the notion of ‘purpose’ is now essential to brand development.
I won’t lie, there’s a bit of buzzword-heavy guff in it – the type that often gives Marketing its ‘fluffy’, superficial stereotype. Nevertheless, there’s an important point to be made here. Here’s my (less guff-ridden) translation:
In the beginning, brands were all about ‘identity’ (like, who owns this *branded* cattle?). Basically, a measure to guard against theft became a means to discern quality and provenance, when goods were mostly commodities. Brands offered logical reasons not to buy the cheapest.
With the advent of consumerism, greater choice and, in time, the construct of ‘lifestyle’, brands had to move beyond mere identity and gain a ‘personality’, to win the affections of more discerning buyers. They began to appeal less to logical faculties and more to emotional states.
Inevitably, consumerism leads to over-consumption. Inevitably, ‘lifestyle’ and demographic segments become ever-more fragmented. Thus, a recognition of the excesses of brands and a market, now a greater sea of identities has led to differentiation by responsibility. Brands now need a ‘purpose’.
Of course, cynics may suggest that this is all bandwagon-jumping and not ‘social responsibility’ at all. You have a point – there’s a profit motive. But what’s interesting/important is the fact it’s happening at all – a reflection of society more than it is of brands’ ‘purpose’.
After all, when was bandwagon-jumping ever not an intrinsic part of advertising/marketing? Every good salesperson reflects/amplifies qualities they see in their customer, like a fairytale mirror. Marketing doesn’t drive change, it reflects it and, occasionally, accelerates it.
‘A prerequisite for brands to have purpose’: M&C Saatchi on passions and diversity
30 years ago | Centre-Ville, Calais, France | 5th-7th February 1993
In my first year at University, I found myself doing all sorts of things I’d never done before and one of the most memorable was the annual RAG Week Charity Hitch to Paris – sort of…
A load of us signed up, paired up, did next to no preparation and dressed perhaps marginally differently, for the wintry conditions. I was paired to travel with my mate Paul, which was great, mostly because we get on so well. With what was to come, we’d need to!
We got up ridiculously early (even for non-students) that Friday morning and hung out at the hitching post on campus, to get to our first port of call – anywhere on the M6. “See you in Paris”, we’d say, as each of us got in our respective lifts, heading south.
Time now clouds my recollection of much of the day’s travelling. I remember taking most of the day to get from Lancaster to Dover, with ‘stops’ by the side of the road at (think) Hilton Park on the M6, Gaydon on the M40 and (again, I think) South Mimms on the M25. There were probably more than that.
I do remember taking, for my first time, the new Queen Elizabeth II Bridge at the Dartford Crossing over the Thames, opened just over fifteen months previously, and then being dropped off at the intersection of the M25 and the M2 – which I think was then just the A2. Either way, it was a ridiculous place to expect someone to stop for hitch-hikers. Miraculously, before long, a truck did pick us up, headed for France. We hoped he’d offer to take us onto the ferry – and beyond Calais – but he didn’t.
It was late and we could only get foot passenger tickets for the first sailing the next morning so we managed to get a couple of hours’ kip in the terminal.
The next day, we got on the boat, ready for the short hop from Calais to Paris. Scotland were due to play France at the Parc des Princes in the Five Nations so we were confident we’d get a lift right into Paris. We disembarked at Calais and walked to the gates at the entrance to the Port and got our thumbs out. This was going to be easy!
Sadly, it was the opposite. It seemed every car that went past, all morning, was full of expectant Scots, with very few able to take two extra passengers and none of that small cohort offering to do so. Hours ticked by and we knew that as time passed, even the best scenario of getting to Paris would involve us having to turn around and come straight back.
We had to make the call and, by early afternoon, we made it. It was gut-wrenchingly disappointing. Now, we had to get home. We booked our return foot passenger tickets and, again had hours to kill before the next available sailing. There was nothing else to do but mooch around Calais.
From what I remember that day (and one day there since then), it’s a charming little place that’s unfairly saddled with being associated with ‘booze-cruise’ warehouses and its status as just about the least exotic part of continental Europe. This may be, in part, due to the fact that, from 1347 to 1558, the town was actually a part of England, not France.
We trooped around the street market and walked past the Town Hall, as darkness fell again, before walking back to the port to get on our return ferry. By the time we arrived back in Dover, we’d had enough of hitch-hiking and just wanted to get back as soon as possible. We bought National Express tickets to London Victoria Coach Station. Once again, we dozed on benches, waiting for our next ride.
I remember looking blearily out of the window as our coach left the South Circular and began to approach London, and then wind through the Elephant & Castle on a deathly quiet early Sunday morning, before crossing the Thames. At Victoria Station, we booked our next journey to Lancaster and found somewhere to sit and wait with our vending machine cups of tea. The next thing I remember was seeing tea splash everywhere as Paul fell asleep where he sat, dropping his full cup in front of us. We were both so tired.
I remember very little of that day as our coach wound its way up the country, other than that it was dark (again) by the time we arrived in Lancaster. I think we persuaded the driver to drop us at the entrance to the campus and we walked dejectedly up the hill to our rooms in Bowland Tower. I’m pretty sure we then ate everything we could find in the fridge and just crashed out. We’d just about managed to travel internationally that weekend – but Michael Palin had nothing to worry about!
The photo I took of Calais Town Hall was not from that weekend but from a day, 20 years later, when we arrived early at the EuroTunnel and they wouldn’t change our return train time. Once again, we had hours to kill in Calais. That’s why, for every year since then, we’ve paid the extra for a Flexi-Pass…
10 years ago | Chamberlains Farm, Shevington Moor, UK | 26th January 2013
When we first moved to Chamberlains Farm, in 1981, the best part of living here was the space. Five acres of fields and driveway offered ample opportunity for a wide variety of games and, yes, mischief.
That first winter was one of the harshest for a generation, with drifting snow and consistently below-average temperatures. I’m not sure if that was the year we ‘invented’ car sledging but I think it might have been.
It’s as simple as it sounds: tie a sledge to the back of a car with a length of rope and drive around with someone on the sledge. With two fields to go at, and a driveway of about a sixth of a mile, a decent snow covering can provide hours of fun.
And it did. I remember coming in after what felt like the whole evening (it was probably only an hour or so), with numb fingers and toes, on an adrenaline high. The only problem with it was – even forty years ago – the very few times it was snowy enough. Perhaps that scarcity value is what makes it, even now, feel like a special treat. I could probably count on two chilblain-afflicted hands the number of times we went car sledging in the whole decade.
Over the years, I grew up, moved away and moved back again and it wasn’t until Christmas 2009 – now with a whole new generation in the family – that we resurrected the concept. That winter and the following winter were both snowy enough for good car sledging and by then, we also had something we didn’t have in the 80s: four wheel drive. The only bit of a downside was that, at 6, 2 and 1, the kids weren’t really old enough to be excited by it.
So when we woke up that Saturday morning in January 2013 to a fresh layer of snow, we knew we had to make the best of the weekend ahead of us.
It was just as much fun as I remember it, with the kids all in the perfect age zone to enjoy it fully and friends and family coming over to take part, just like the old days. It was a brilliant day and I have loads of stills to prove it.
We’ve had snow since then, but sadly, not enough for us to tie the sledge onto the car. Who knows how many m ore years it will be until it happens again? I couldn’t believe it’s been ten years since our last day’s car sledging and I’m now very aware that with each year, there’s less of a guarantee that our fast-growing-up kids will feel like taking part.
It was always a rare event but you just wonder if it’s now more accurately described as ‘a thing of the past’. Hopefully, now I’ve suggested that, we’ll have two feet of snow overnight before this winter is out…
A story of my great-great grandfather: a man from Standish who visited the residence of the President, dined at the US Capitol and didn’t quite become a wine mogul in California…
Lots of us have discovered the joys and frustrations of researching our family history online. I’ve created a Family Tree on Ancestry.com and posted before about some of the exploits of my ancestors that I’ve been able to uncover.
The process is very similar to physical archaeology or, I imagine, gold-mining. It involves long periods of frustration punctuated by short instances of blinding discovery, the thrill of which is enough to sustain the addiction to persevere through the next, inevitable long period of frustration.
This time, it was my cousin, Adam, who found the nugget of gold while out prospecting. He was following up on a totally different part of the family story when he came across this story in the 25th January 1913 edition of the ‘Wigan Observer’ – exactly 110 years old.
It appears our great-great grandfather, James Bentham, former cattle dealer and farmer had, in December 1912, been part of a delegation of wine investors to inspect a vineyard in Wahtoke, just outside Fresno, California. If you Google ‘Wahtoke’, you find the settlement is now abandoned but but was established enough to have a US Post Office between 1905 and 1916.
What’s most interesting about the letter is his description of arriving in Washington DC, en route, and managed to find themselves being received at the White House “where the President [William Howard Taft] and Cabinet were sitting in one portion of the building”. They subsequently visited other Governmental buildings, including the Capitol, where they witnessed an impeachment hearing and were then invited to dine.
The letter includes a number of interesting details of the trip from Liverpool to Wahtoke, via New York, Washington, New Orleans, El Paso and Los Angeles, including something of a fixation with the quality of paving. Remember also that they made that Liverpool to New York crossing, in “exceptionally rough” seas, only eight months after the loss of the Titanic.
Here is the letter, transcribed in full, by Adam and copied and pasted, by me:
From The Wigan Observer and District Advertiser, Saturday 25th January 1913.
A Wigan Gentleman in California
Mr Samuel Taylor, J.P. the Chairman of Directors of Anglo-California Vineyards Ltd. has received the following letter from Mr. James Bentham (of Wigan and Blackpool) who is now on a visit to California.
Alameda Vineyard, Wahtoke, California December 26th 1912
Dear Mr. Taylor
I left Liverpool on the 30th November with my friend, Mr. Crompton of Preston, for the purpose of personally inspecting this vineyard, which was recently acquired by friends, principally in Wigan, Southport and Blackpool districts, and floated as the Anglo-Californian Vineyards Ltd. about which I shall have more to say later on.
The sea journey was exceptionally rough, even for this time of the year, as we had to face north-western gales and high seas for about seven days, and we landed in New York on the 9th day. We found this city with 16 degrees of frost, and were not long in making up our minds to go out west. Our impression of New York, with its badly paved streets and network of tram and railway lines, was not good enough to induce us to spend much time there.
We, therefore, made our way in the afternoon to Washington. The whole of the land between these cities, so far as could be seen from the train, was nothing but swamp and barren land. We were delighted with Washington, the streets being very wide and well laid out. The public buildings are also of a very high order, and we were privileged to enter the ‘White House’ where the President and Cabinet were sitting in one portion of the building.
We visited the Treasury, Army and Navy, and other public buildings (inside) including the Capitol, where we had the pleasure of listening to a debate of the Senators (who were trying to unseat the member for Philadelphia for corruption at his election) after which we had the privilege of dining in the building.
In the evening we left for New Orleans, passing through Mobile, which is the great shipping port for timber in the Gulf of Mexico. On arrival at New Orleans we were introduced to several members of the Cotton Exchange, who were kind enough to make us members for 10 days, thus enabling us to be present at the sales when the important announcement of the total cotton crop was made. It is impossible to describe the excitement that took place for about half an hour. The city is wretchedly paved outside the principal streets, but the buildings are fine.
We left at midnight, the whole train passing over the Mississippi River by ferry in three sections, and in the morning we were in Texas, which grows more than one fourth of the cotton in America. We were two days and nights passing through this large state, which is called a ‘dry State’ which means that you cannot even get a bottle of lager to dinner.
We picked up a lot of soldiers who were going out to quell the rebellion in Mexico, and put them off there at a place called El Paso. Finally, we reached Los Angeles, where we might have spent a day or two in a beautiful city, but we were anxious to get to our destination, and went on to Fresno, where we had to remain two days before coming here.
And now I must say something of Alameda. After a week’s stay and general inspection we have come to the conclusion that there is no better cultivated land or better kept vineyard in California; the houses and buildings are quite equal to the land.
I see from the papers (one of which I am sending you) that the value of land is going up greatly in this district.
I am, yours faithfully,
James Bentham.
I’ve learned that it’s dangerous to take anything like this at face value so there are some layers of verification to apply before we take for granted that this story is as it appears.
First, James and his wife Alice lived in Standish for many years, first on High Street, then at While Hall on Cross Street (approximately where Standish Library now stands) and then at Broomfield House on Bradley Lane, where both my Dad (Jim) and Adam’s mum (Anne) grew up. In the 1911 census, James and Alice are shown as living at ’42 Chesterfield Road, Blackpool’. The specific reference of “Mr. James Bentham (of Wigan and Blackpool)” leaves far less possibility that it applies to another James Bentham.
Having moved out of the family farm and (as we’d say today) ‘downsized’, it’s also more likely that he would have the capital to both invest and travel. I’ve often wondered why he and Alice moved to Blackpool. Alice died in December 1913, aged 66, so my theory always was that they moved to “take the [sea] air”, as was common for people living with poor health in those days. There’s no reference to Alice accompanying him on this journey. She may have been unwilling, unwell or simply uninvited.
What happened next? Was James one of the team of investors? What happened to the Alameda Vineyard? Aside from family rumours about of swindling, I can’t say if, or by how much, James was financially involved. Prohibition in 1919 would not have helped the business plan but the loss of the Post Office, during wartime, in 1916, suggests that the town’s fortunes may have receded even before that.
I can say my grandad was born, six weeks after the publication of this letter, on 6th April 1913, although I’m not sure if James, his grandfather, was back in England by then. Two days after Christmas that year, James’ wife, Alice, died and only six months after that, Archduke Ferdinand was assassinated in Sarajevo, leading to the outbreak of the First World War, within weeks. As we now know all too well, James seemed to have been in the process of making plans in a world that was about to change out of all recognition. He lived on until the age of 81 and died in Blackpool in November 1930.
45 years ago | Bradley Lane, Standish, UK | 20th January 1978
Forty-five years ago, I had, what I now think was my first full experience of chart music: the unforgettable ‘Wuthering Heights’ by Kate Bush…
I was still only four and I think I was having breakfast before school, with the radio on in the kitchen. I’d been aware of pop music before that point but I don’t remember much of it making an impact on me. The family record collection included both Chicago’s ‘If You Leave Me Now’ and ABBA’s ‘Knowing Me, Knowing You’ but I was listening to them well after their time in the charts had ended. Almost inevitably, I seem to remember being aware of Queen’s ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’, albeit also well after the event – although I do know where I was when it was Number 1, but that’s a different story…
Nor was it my first recollection of a song that was in the charts at the time. I’m pretty sure that distinction goes to Paul McCartney and Wings with ‘Mull Of Kintyre’, which I remember watching on ‘Top of the Pops’, with the band of pipers marching into the studio at the end.
What I mean is the appreciation of a chart song, not just for the music itself but also as an item of fashion; in the knowledge that others would be aware of it, listening to it, knowing it mattered that week. I can still remember marvelling at its soaring melodies that morning, wondering what kind of creature was making those impossibly high notes.
When I came to watch the wide-eyed, pouting, dervish of flailing limbs that was Kate Bush on ’Top of the Pops’ or possibly ‘Swap Shop’, I was even more amazed. I’d taken my first steps into pop music and I loved it.
On reflection, the phenomenon unleashed on the listening public in January 1978 was such a random collision of factors: a prodigy performance artist from Kent dancing expressively to her self-written song based on a (then) 140 year-old novel by Emily Brontë, set on the West Yorkshire Moors. Nothing about it fits any kind of formula for pop success but it got to Number 1 in the charts and stayed there for a month.
And so, as with any other child of the Seventies, thus began a decades-long journey of Radio 1-listening, TOTP-watching and chart-following as the constant ebb and flow of new music seemed to chronicle our lives.
Eventually, I tired of Radio 1, ‘Top of the Pops’ went to the giant glitter-ball in the sky and, for various reasons, the charts began to lose their relevance. Such is the natural order of things, you may agree. But for a large part of my first 30 years, chart music seemed to matter a lot – and I can’t remember ever feeling that way until I heard Kate as Cathy.
40 years ago | *ABC Cinema, Wigan, UK | 9th January 1983
The ABC in Wigan, just before the UK release of E.T., December 1982. Photo: Frank Orrell (Wigan Observer)
Forty years ago, we went to the cinema. It doesn’t sound that big a deal now. It wasn’t really that remarkable then, If I’m honest – except for the fact that it was only my second-ever trip to ‘the pictures’, to watch the film that everyone was talking about: ‘E.T. – The Extraterrestrial’.
In spring 1981, I’d had my first cinema experience, watching ‘Superman II’. I remember being wowed by the action on screen and bitterly disappointed by the taste of the exotic hot dogs served in the foyer. The experience had clearly stuck with me because I distinctly remember giving the same counter a wide berth, this time.
The other difference this time was that I was very aware that this was not just a film but a major event. That the mere fact I was going to watch it carried its own level of kudos. The film had been hyped for weeks and radio, television and even daily conversations seemed to consist of very little else. It was probably the first blockbuster film release that I was old enough to understand as such.
Predictably, I loved the film. At the age of nine, I was probably in the ideal demographic for it. Looking back, there was something else that may seem largely superficial now but at the time felt hugely profound: the chase scene at the end involved BMX bikes, something most school-age kids were very impressed by, in the early 1980s.
By embracing something that was so clearly part of the zeitgeist, Spielberg was able to make his story all the more compelling to his target market. It felt to us as if the conversations we were having on our playground were actually shaping Hollywood films. It may not be too much of a stretch to say that they were – in a way. Although we, like everyone else, thought it was just our school that was so ‘influential’, when, by definition, it was every school.
I remember getting the novelised version on E.T. in paperback from the school book club, not long after and devouring the written story. I think I still have it. It’s still one of a small number of films that, if I happen upon it while flicking around the channels, I will feel the urge to watch it to the end, every time. ‘Jaws’, ‘Educating Rita’ and ‘The Shawshank Redemption’ being other notable holders of that particular accolade.
It also imbued in me a love of cinema itself. Even the grotty old Wigan ABC fleapit (where twenty years previously, my Dad had watched Roy Orbison and The Beatles) was enough to light a passion which still burns today. Only years later did I learn that my Grandad, great-uncle and great-Grandad owned a cinema in Standish (‘The Palace’) for 30 years so it kind of is in my blood.
A pandemic and home streaming have reduced my cinema-going in recent years but I’d still rather take in a quirky movie in a theatre than watch a so-called ‘must-see’ series. Unlike the eponymous ‘E.T.’, ‘Home’ is not my preferred venue, when it comes to film consumption. Give me the chance to go to a cinema any day – and ‘I’ll be right there’…
Last year, I was thrilled to be asked to write the script for a client’s annual Employee Awards ceremony. I’ve written for public speaking engagements before but only for my own delivery – and I’d only ever written with elements of comedy in wedding speeches. I was also conscious that, in writing for two people, the laughs need to be shared.
I learned that writing like this requires you to judge the personality of each speaker and mould the words around each person’s natural character. There’s no way you can expect even the best line to be read convincingly by someone who’s not willing to be ‘in character’ at the point they’re reading it. Equally, whatever characterisations are required to be brought to the lines can’t be too far from the speakers’ ‘normal’ personae. I found that it works best when I was writing a slightly exaggerated version of each speaker.
Thankfully, in [Jane] and [Peter] – not their real names – I had two people who were willing and able to play their roles in a not-entirely-vanilla way and I was able to riff slightly on that, making [Peter] a more self-absorbed version of himself and [Jane] a more waspish version of herself. On the day, they both played their roles brilliantly – although it was the most nervous I’ve been watching someone else’s performance since I was a parent at a Year 2 Nativity Play!
I should also address the confidentiality issue. For lots of good reasons, this client would rather not be identified and that is, of course, absolutely fine. For that reason, I’ve had to ensure there are a lot of [Pseudonyms] and [Redacteds] in the copy. I hope that doesn’t interrupt the flow too much.
If you have a public speaking requirement and you need to get the tone *just right*, maybe I can help. Give me a shout and let’s see what I can do…
<[Jane Surname] and [Peter Surname] are introduced by the CEO and start the ceremony>
[Jane]: Good afternoon, everyone and thank you, [Redacted], for that warm welcome.
In case you don’t know me, I’m [Jane Surname] and I’m [Redacted]’s [Redacted] Director.
As I’m in charge of compliance and rules, I tend to spend a lot of my time telling people they can’t do things.
So it’s wonderful for me to stand in front of you all, in these challenging times, and be able to bring a bit of happiness, this afternoon.
[Peter]: And I’m [Peter Surname], the Chief [Redacted] Officer at [Redacted]. As I’m in charge of systems and technology, I’m often busy working out how things have gone wrong, so we can fix them.
So it’s also great for me to take part in this celebration of the many things that have gone really well, this year – and to recognise the fantastic people who made them happen.
[Jane]: So without any further ado, let’s bring on the awards, applaud the nominees, cheer the winners and spend a little time enjoying the warmth and positivity of their achievements.
Are you ready to do that, [Peter]?
[Peter]: I think we should, [Jane]. In fact, I’m positive!
Let’s get started!
Award category 1: Most Supportive Colleague
[Jane]: The first award is Most Supportive Colleague. It’s an award that recognises the true essence of being a supporter.
You could describe supportiveness as a long-term commitment to offering positivity, without any expectation of a reward.
[Peter], you’re a Blackburn Rovers supporter. Would you agree with that?
[Peter]: I certainly would, [Jane]. I haven’t had my support rewarded since 1995.
But not all supporters are long-suffering, like me. Some are truly appreciated by all around them, for being unfailing beacons of positivity.
Here is [Alan Surname], our [Redacted], to tell you about five of them:
<Music & Applause>
[Alan]: The nominees for Most Supportive Colleague are…
[Looks at outside of envelope, reads nominees]
And the award goes to…
[Opens envelope, takes out note, reads winner]
<Music & Applause>
Award category 2: Best Demonstration of Leadership
[Peter]: Next up is the Best Demonstration of Leadership award. I found a great quote about leadership on the Harvard website, [Jane].
“A leader is best when people barely know they exist. When the work is done, and the aim is fulfilled, people will say: ‘we did it ourselves’.”
You’re a great leader, [Jane] – so I was wondering: Does anyone know if you exist?
[Jane]: Sometimes, I wonder if I do, [Peter].
But even if “barely anyone” knows about my existence – or yours – this award is to ensure that we celebrate the existence – and the leadership contributions – of five very special people.
Here is [Brenda Surname], our [Redacted], to tell you who they are:
<Music & Applause>
[Brenda]: The nominees for Best Demonstration of Leadership are:
[Looks at outside of envelope, reads nominees]
And the award goes to…
[Opens envelope, takes out note, reads winner]
<Music & Applause>
Award category 3: Best Value for Money Initiative or Idea
[Jane]: Our third award of the evening is for Best Value for Money Initiative or Idea.
We’re all very aware of the rises in cost of everything this year so, more than ever before, it’s so important to recognise anyone who can think laterally, to save the business money or get the very most from everything pound we spend.
[Peter]: That’s right, [Jane]. Who doesn’t love the idea of attending an important seminar on cost-effectiveness, in the Seychelles? But these days, you’re more likely to be invited to an economy drive in a Starbucks.
But if you think that’s a radical idea, here are three nominees who have had an even greater impact on providing value for money, this year.
Here is [Colin Surname], our [Redacted], to tell you who they are:
<Music & Applause>
[Colin]: The nominees for Best Value for Money Initiative or Idea are:
[Looks at outside of envelope, reads nominees]
And the award goes to…
[Opens envelope, takes out note, reads winner]
<Music & Applause>
Award category 4: Best Safety Initiative or Idea
[Peter]: Our fourth award is Best Safety Initiative or Idea. We often hear how ‘ensuring everyone’s Health and Safety is paramount’ – which means it’s more important than anything else.
But this award recognises people who have actually improved the safety of colleagues. Which makes it even more important than ‘paramount’ – but how would you describe that?
I was watching TV the other day and suddenly, that answer just came to me:
‘Paramount Plus’.
[Jane]: That’s not really the kind of safety idea that will win you this award, [Peter]. In fact, you should have risk-assessed that joke before you told it because I think you’ve just been ‘burned’.
While I report this incident in the Accident Book, here is [Debbie Surname], our [Redacted], with the nominees for this award:
<Music & Applause>
[Debbie]: The nominees for Best Safety Initiative or Idea are:
[Looks at outside of envelope, reads nominees]
And the award goes to…
[Opens envelope, takes out note, reads winner]
<Music & Applause>
Award category 5: Outstanding Individual
[Jane]: Our next award is our Outstanding Individual award. This is our Employee of the Year award, awarded to somebody who consistently exhibits each of our values: [Value_1], [Value_2], [Value_3] and [Value_4] – in everything they do.
It’s a huge accolade to be nominated for this award. Can you imagine being that highly regarded, [Peter]?
[Peter]: I can [Jane], but you’ll be pleased to learn that, this year, I’ve decided to rule myself out of the running for this award – to let somebody else have a go. And five of our colleagues now have exactly that chance.
Here is [Eric Surname], our [Redacted] to tell you who they are:
<Music & Applause>
[Eric]: The nominees for our Outstanding Individual award are:
[Looks at outside of envelope, reads nominees]
And the award goes to…
[Opens envelope, takes out note, reads winner]
<Music & Applause>
Award category 6: Excellent Example of Inclusion – All Values
[Peter]: Our sixth award is the Excellent Example of Inclusion, something that we should all be passionate about. I could certainly talk at length about how we’re very aware – and proud – of the importance we place on inclusion.
I could explain in great depth about the need to avoid having the same worldviews dominating our thinking, not allowing anyone else’s voice to come to the fore…
…[Jane], I think I should probably include you at this point.
[Jane]: Yes, [Peter], I think you probably should.
It’s great that we can all agree that a commitment to Inclusion is a vital part of any healthy organisation.
And to demonstrate that, we’ve excluded all but the following nominees, who the judges feel have demonstrated their commitment to inclusion more than anyone else.
Here is [Fanny Surname], our [Redacted], to tell you who’s on this exclusive list.
<Music & Applause>
[Fanny]: The nominees for the Excellent Example of Inclusion are:
[Looks at outside of envelope, reads nominees]
And the award goes to…
[Opens envelope, takes out note, reads winner]
<Music & Applause>
Award category 7: Team of the Year
[Jane]: Our next award is Team of the Year. The teams we work in form a vital link between ourselves as individuals and [Redacted] as a whole.
Achieving the goals of the team not only gives more meaning to the things we do, it can be a source of greater satisfaction when we do things well.
Good teams also ensure that the workload is shared more evenly when one of the team is struggling. In a world of algorithms and systems, this is still a very human way of working and it’s a part of working life that you can’t simply improve with technology.
[Peter]: Strictly speaking, the hardest-working team in [Redacted] is Microsoft Teams but the judges felt it was ineligible for consideration because a good team shouldn’t crash unexpectedly and keep putting you on mute for no reason.
But this award isn’t just about the team’s level of achievement but the way that those goals are achieved. To quote Bananarama, “It ain’t what you do, it’s the way that you do it; And that’s what gets results”.
Here is [Gordon Surname], our [Redacted], to give you that result:
<Music & Applause>
[Gordon]: The nominees for Team of the Year are:
[Looks at outside of envelope, reads nominees]
And the award goes to…
[Opens envelope, takes out note, reads winner]
<Music & Applause>
Award category 8: Consistent Customer Excellence by a Team
[Peter]: Our final award is the Consistent Customer Excellence by a Team. Many of our customers have experienced more difficulties this year than in any previous year, which often leads to them placing even greater demands on us.
Against that backdrop, an ability to give great customer service is one thing but doing that – consistently – takes something special.
[Jane]: Absolutely. It feels like there’s never been a more important time to offer excellent, empathetic customer service. And it’s wonderful to see that so many of our people are doing exactly that.
Here is [Hermione Surname], our [Redacted], to recognise some very special teams.
<Music & Applause>
[Hermione]: The nominees for Consistent Customer Excellence by a Team are:
After the fun and frivolity of Christmas comes the frugality of the New Year – but you don’t have to taste the difference. Here’s how…
It’s a tale that goes back generations, when even oranges were rare, exotic festive treats and not for everyday consumption. In recent decades, the importance of ‘a healthier lifestyle’ as a New Year’s resolution led to calorie-denying diets. But most commonly, our desire to spend a little more in December has most likely led to a need to watch the pennies in January.
Add in a Cost of Living Crisis and the need to ‘tighten our belts’ becomes even more keenly felt. In recent years, there’s been a significant movement for making quality meals for surprisingly little – often less than a pound per head. As we head into 2023, with the financial challenges it brings, how can we all eat well, for less?
Perhaps the best-known advocate is Jack Monroe. Once described as “the poster girl for Austerity Britain”, her recipes fuse classical cuisine with ultra-cheap, widely-available ingredients, batch preparation and energy-efficient cooking. Every recipe on her website is costed (per head) with the price and source of each ingredient shown.
A great ‘winter warmer’ is her Vegan Moussaka, costed at 31p (in 2018).
As she explains the ‘hacks’ required to replace traditional ingredients, you always have the option to reverse them and try the non-vegan, non-vegetarian lamb version – which should still come in at under a pound a head.
250g dried green or brown lentils 57p (£1.15/500g, Sainsburys)
2 small onions 12p (90p/1,5kg, Sainsburys Basics)
6 fat cloves of garlic 9p (35p/2 bulbs, Sainsburys Basics)
2 tbsp oil 3p (£3/3l, vegetable or sunflower oil, Sainsburys)
Jack Monroe’s ‘Cooking On A Bootstrap’ website is full of ideas and advice across a wide range of cuisines and dietary preferences, with a wealth of similar ‘under a pound’ recipe ideas.
It should also be noted that it’s much easier to bring down the ‘per head’ cost when cooking for larger numbers, spreading the overall cost over more servings. If you’re cooking for one or even two, in order to keep ‘per-head’ costs down, it’s likely you’ll need to cook for more and batch and freeze the remainder, to eat at a later date.
We all like different things – and we can quickly tire of eating the same thing, even when we like it – so here’s a handy list of helpful websites to give you some inspiration. It’s also a great way to sample dishes that you might not otherwise have considered.
Even if you’re a fussy eater, there’s loads to choose from Alternatively – as you may already have heard – Try it – you might like it!
5 years ago | The Great Barrier Reef, off Queensland, AU | 4th January 2018
Five years ago, we snorkelled in the Great Barrier Reef. Let’s just let that just sink in for a moment…
Even as I type those words, part of me can’t quite believe I’m able to. It’s a preposterous thing to be able to say. I grew up in a pretty normal 80s household, watching ‘Russ Abbot’s Madhouse’ and having sliced bananas in milk for ‘afters’ at teatime. Ten year-old me would think it an impossible thing for grown-up me to have even contemplated doing.
The Barrier Reef was the sort of thing we’d see on a David Attenborough programme. Of course we knew this was somewhere on the same planet because, well, it couldn’t not be. But it wasn’t realistically in our orbit. It existed solely “on telly”, in the same way that JR Ewing or Hilda Ogden did – and it might as well have been equally as fictional.
And so, when the opportunity came to see it ‘in real life’, it had to be taken. We were on the third leg of our Australian tour. We’d spent Christmas in Melbourne and New Year in Sydney, with a still-hungover flight up to Cairns on New Year’s Day morning. An hour’s drive north is place called Port Douglas and it was recommended to me by an old business contact from Geelong as the best place to do the ‘Reef.
He wasn’t wrong. It’s a small town by a big beach, surrounded by resort hotels and a tropical rain forest, but with a charming main drag of pubs and restaurants. There’s a look-out point from which to admire the view and a harbour from which to book your Reef adventure.
The parts we’d snorkel in were about twenty miles out to sea and as we skipped over the waves in our 40-foot craft, we were treated to just about the best – and certainly the most Australian – ‘safety announcement’ I think I’ve ever heard:
“If the boat gets into difficulties, we’ll ask you all to put on your lifejackets as we drift aimlessly around. I’ll send our location on the radio and set off a flare – and then we’ll get the tinnies in while we wait for the Channel Nine news-copter to come and find us”
Anyway, before long we got to our intended location, slipped on the jellyfish-proof ’stinger’ wetsuits and jumped in the ocean. Reader, I won’t lie, it was every bit the awesome, “pinch-me”, unbelievable experience that I’d expected it to be.
The bit that was different to billing was the distinct lack of vibrant colour that, thanks to the aforementioned Mr. Attenborough, I’d been led to expect. There was some colour and plenty of exotic species but it wasn’t the rainbow-infused dazzle of colour I’d seen on TV at home. The fact it was more drab, more monochrome, more – dare I say it? – bleached meant the experience was just as profound as I’d wanted, just not in the way I’d thought it would be.
You see, there’s something else that we know exists because how can it not? Something that we tend to see evidence of primarily “on telly”, where fact and fiction are less clearly delineated and, much of the time, the endings are already written. Climate change is that real-life storyline and it occurred to me that this was the first physical evidence I’d seen of it with my own eyes, after decades of being shown it via some other medium.
I know none of this should matter. We can all believe the science, we can all know the issues and we can all understand the choices that climate change forces us to face. It’s simply a question of logic. The problem is that human beings are, to a large extent, not logical. That profound sense of witnessing something I’d only previously experienced second-hand has stayed with me ever since.
What I saw was the future we’ve been warned about “on telly” – in real life. Maybe if everyone had the opportunity to do what I’ve done, the issue would be more in our orbit and we’d be closer to solving this most real-life of problems…
5 years ago | Phillip Island, Victoria, AU | 27th December 2017
Five years ago, I took my Northern-ness as far south as I’ve ever been – to Phillip Island off the south coast of Australia…
At 38°29′S, you can only be stood further south if you\re in other parts of Australia, in New Zealand, Chile, Argentina or Antarctica. If we’re being picky, you can add the Falkland Islands to that list.
We were there to watch the island’s famous Penguin Parade, a nightly spectacle in which large numbers of the native Little Penguin (Eudyptula novaehollandiae) swim ashore at dusk after a day’s fishing. As part of the Phillip Island Nature Park, the Penguin Parade is the only commercial venue in the world where you can see penguins in their own environment.
The predictability of the event makes for a great spectacle but it also means the penguins are targets for marine predators so they’re understandably nervous as they approach the shoreline and, as a result, the thousands present are expressly forbidden from any form of photography once the light fades, as inadvertent camera flashes can scare them off, away from safety. That’s why you can’t see a penguin in this picture. Sadly not every visitor observed this rule quite as assiduously.
Once they emerge from the waves, they then walk along their well-worn paths to the myriad of nests that pepper the dunes beyond the beach. The paths are well-lit and allow visitors to watch the penguins closely, with some observation areas dug down, to raise the passing wildlife to eye level. Wallabies and other local fauna roam around, freely.
It was an amazing experience, well worth the travel tine it requires, being 70 miles south of Melbourne. If you’re ever in Victoria, it’s an absolute ‘must’ to add to your itinerary. Luckily, I’d heard about it before our trip to Australia. Even more luckily, we had a friend who was able to take us there.
You can view the Park’s YouTube channel (with live coverage of each night’s parade – around 9am in the UK) here:
We can all be guilty of buying a little too much festive food, to ensure we don’t run out of anything on the big day. It’s done with the best intentions but too much Christmas Day food can lead to a well-known Boxing Day problem: leftovers.
It never feels right to throw food away, especially when we can less afford to waste it so, perhaps more than ever before, it’s good to think about what we can do with a quantity of turkey and trimmings to turn them into something appetising the next day, beyond the boring turkey sandwiches. And we’ve found four great recipes to help you do just that!
Option 1: Boxing Day Bubble & Squeak – bbcgoodfood.com
As featured in the latest issue of ‘Your News’, this generic recipe is really simple (and quick) to make and doesn’t require you to have any extra ingredients in. Better still, if you want to add other things to it (as much turkey as you like), it will still work just as well! It’s as easy as vegging out in front of a Disney film!
Option 2: The Hairy Bikers’ Turkey, Ham & Stuffing Pie – bbc.co.uk
If you fancy something a bit more challenging, this masterpiece from Si and Dave is well worth the effort. You will need to have a few more ingredients to hand (flour, butter, an egg, lard, cream and, ideally, tarragon) and you also need to have leftover ham. It should also be noted that there is a bit of actual bakery involved but you get a proper pie at the end of it. This means you also get the chance to impress anyone who’s lucky enough to be offered a slice!
Option 3: Leftover Turkey Madras – sainsburysmagazine.co.uk
If a ‘turkey roast’ is an age-old Christmas custom, a ‘turkey curry’ is fast becoming a modern Boxing Day tradition. Some might not want venture quite as high up the ‘heat’ scale as madras (if so, google ‘turkey korma’) but a good, strong taste is a great way to help you pretend it’s a chicken curry – and not day-old turkey! Some other ingredients are needed but it’s really easy to make – and the spices mean it’ll probably keep longer!
This one is not so much a recipe as an invitation to a secret society – and the first rule is that you don’t talk about it, okay? Take this piece of invaluable investigative journalism and substitute the chicken for – you’ve guessed it – strips of remaining turkey. You will need a quite healthily-stocked herb and spice rack and a fair amount of frying oil but the resulting fusion food of Kentucky and Norfolk is “finger-lickin’ bootiful”!
25 years ago | Pendlebury Street, Warrington, UK | 20th December 1997
Twenty-five years ago, we moved in to the first home I owned, in Latchford, Warrington, despite all common sense suggesting that we shouldn’t…
Actually, I’d owned the house since July but we’d spent months having to strip out the electrics, the plumbing and – somewhat dispiritingly – the kitchen floor. We installed central heating, new wiring, damp-proofing, loft insulation, a new bathroom, a new concrete base and did a lot of re-plastering and decorating.
By December, It was still barely habitable. The kitchen was little more than a glorified vanity unit with a fridge and an old cooker, most of the furniture was spectacularly mis-matched, generously donated ‘hand-me-downs’ and the bathroom was still un-tiled and missing a door. It really wasn’t ready to be moved into.
But I’d grown impatient. Once the wooden floorboards downstairs were all sanded to a point it had been unclear that they could ever be returned to, the last vital job that couldn’t be lived around had been done. I’d promised myself we’d be in for Christmas and, sensible or not, I stuck to it.
It didn’t make for a classic Christmas but the giddiness of finally having my own place, living – as my Grandma put it – “over t’brush” (old Lancashire for pre-marital co-habiting), outweighed any thoughts of missing out on festive traditions.
By Boxing Day, I was painting and staining, putting up curtains and planning how to spend Christmas money. I remember not long after, we blew about £500 in Warrington Ikea on storage boxes, a dining room set, crockery and cutlery and light fittings.
Moving into your first house is a great way to uncovering all the necessary things that you don’t yet own and so began the long process of acquiring them all. In our case, it led to probably the most boring New Year’s Eve of all time, as we saw in 1998 in bed on an ancient, very grainy, portable TV.
It all sounds a bit depressing now but at the time, we wouldn’t have it any other way.
Sunday evening (18 December) sees the start of Hanukkah, the eight-night-and-day festival of the Jewish faith.
Based around the 25th day of Kislev in the Hebrew calendar, Hanukkah can take place any time from late November to late December in the Gregorian (Western) calendar.
Hanukkah commemorates the re-taking of Jerusalem from Greek-Syrian imperial forces, and the re-dedication of its Second Temple by the Maccabees, a group of Jewish rebel warriors, in around 164 BCE. ‘Hanukkah’ is the Hebrew word for ‘dedication’.
To mark the eight days of the festival, at sunset, a candle is lit on a menorah, a candelabrum which holds nine candles. Eight of the candles represent the Hanukkah Miracle: the legend being that, despite the warriors only having a day’s worth of olive oil, their flames continued to flicker for eight nights. The nunth candle is to provide the flame to light the other eight.
Hanukkah is a major Jewish event, marked by music, foods fried in oil (to recall the miracle) and customs such as spinning the dreidel, a spinning toy with four sides, similar to a dice.
“Happy Hanukkah!” is the most common greeting to anyone celebrating this festival but if you want to say it in Hebrew, try “Hanukkah Sameach!” – or simply “Chag Sameach!”, which simply means “Happy Holidays!”
We’re making changes to the way you can book space in the [Redacted], making it more accessible, more flexible and more user-friendly!
As part of our cost-of-living project and our commitment to support your wellbeing, we’re making these changes to provide more colleagues with a warm place to work – as well as helping us move towards a more hybrid way of working.
Previously, the [Redacted] was only booked out as a whole, and could only be booked by a small group of people. Now, anybody can book either a single desk or a bank of desks for their team to work from. Bookings can only be made upto 60 days into the future, except for exceptional circumstances.
All desk bookings must be made via the Go Bright application which can be found in your MS Teams, on the left-hand menu.
A detailed guide is available to view online or download, to help you with the booking process.
You can use the new system from Tuesday 13 December, however, please note that desks will be unavailable for booking on Wednesday 14 and Tuesday 20 December.
If you have existing recurrent bookings throughout 2023, these will be cancelled and you’ll need to re-book the required number of desks through the Go Bright system.
Please note, If you no longer require a desk after a booking, please be considerate of other colleagues and cancel the booking as soon as possible, to make the desk available for somebody else to use.
In addition to the [Redacted], please remember there may be the option to use desks at our hubs – although these are available on a first-come-first-served basis.
We’d also like to announce that, as well as providing hot drinks in [Redacted] and at our hubs, we’ll also start to provide basic food provisions such as porridge, soups and snack bars over the next week.
Please bear with us as we implement the new booking system. We may come across some initial teething problems and we will deal with them as quickly as we can, as and when they arise. As ever, any issues relating to the booking system should be logged with ICT.
30 years ago | Old Trafford, Manchester, UK | 12th December 1992
Thirty years ago, we saw a shift in the tectonic plates of English football – and I was there to witness it: a 1-0 victory over Norwich City…
Manchester United spent the 1980s as perennial under-achievers and the 90s as a dominant force. Many people believe the single turning point was in their Third Round victory at Nottingham Forest in 1990, won by a Mark Robins goal that supposedly saved Alex Ferguson’s job.
While it was certainly a significant moment, it still only led to a Cup win, something United had done twice in their under-whelming previous decade. Even more elusive, over the previous 26 years, was any sense of expectation of league success.
In December 1992, the inaugural Premier Leagues season, recent Champions Liverpool and Arsenal were in transition. Leeds United were Champions, Blackburn had arrived as a cash-rich challenger and Norwich had somehow climbed to the top of the league.
Over at Old Trafford, 5th-placed United had been cajoling performances from a team that had faded dismally the previous spring, handing the last ‘old’ League title to Leeds. There were moments of quality but, as ever, inconsistency seemed to limit the team’s potential. Yes, the Youth Team had – as is now legend – won their cup, months previously, but it was still too early to see the ‘Class of 92’ realise their potential.
Two weeks earlier, an astonishing transfer coup had taken place, with the arrival of the mercurial Eric Cantona from Leeds. He’d only in played the second half in the derby victory six days beforehand and was making his first United start against the league leaders.
Played against the backdrop of a half-built ‘new’ Stratford End, with twinkling Christmas lights on the cranes and free plastic capes for fans sitting in the uncovered seats, this was my first sight of ‘King Eric’ in a United shirt.
The game wasn’t a classic but it wasn’t as close as the 1-0 scoreline suggests. United spurned several chances before Mark Hughes seized on a defensive error to spin and finish in his usual emphatic fashion. Here’s the highlights:
More impressively, this was a team with the grit to withstand an impressive Norwich team who were eight points clear at the top, after eighteen games. As we streamed out of the ground after the game, there was a sense in the crowd that Cantona could really be the final piece of the puzzle after so much unfulfilled promise.
The next two games were both away draws (at Chelsea and Sheffield Wednesday), with Cantona scoring in each. The next home game seemed to confirm the optimism of the Norwich game: an impressive 5-0 victory over Coventry City, with that man Cantona scoring a penalty and providing two assists. I was there for that game too.
Something had changed in this team. Maybe they were capable of finally emulating Busby’s ’67 team. An increasing number of the crowd began to dare to dream again – but it would take another five months before the hope became a reality. I’ll tell you where I was that night, when we get to 30 years after that event…
40 years ago | Chamberlains Farm, Shevington Moor, UK | ??th December 1982
In 1982, we opened a shop next door to a computer store and I was a regular visitor to this new and beguiling place. It may now seem a little laughable to talk with wonder about the Commodore 64 or the ZX Spectrum but in the early 80s, this was quite a heady thing to be able to say. The world was on the cusp of a home computing revolution and ‘computer whizz-kids’ was a phrase that started to appear everywhere in the media and wider culture.
Better still, we got to borrow a demonstrator model of a ZX81, which we immediately hooked up to the ageing black-and-white portable TV in the dining room – the only telly we had other than the main 24″ rental in the lounge.
With it, my Dad and I began to immerse ourselves into this brave new world, anticipating the many doors of wonderment that would open before us, as all the hype was suggesting. The reality was, I’m afraid, not entirely the kind of valuable experience we were hoping for.
We soon learned that we couldn’t just “replace the typewriter” or “control household budgets” because that would require “software”, which came separately (and which we couldn’t borrow). I seem to remember there being a “graphics package”, which was the digital equivalent of attempting to create an image from two-inch painted blocks. In mono. Oh, how our ambitions were stymied – bot on we persevered.
The thing was written on BASIC, which immediately put me at an advantage over my Dad because, aged 8, I’d done one term of night school on BASIC programming, which meant I could do the following:
10 PRINT “Paul is ace” 20 GOTO 10
And for the first time in my life, I learned that new technology was a perfect arena for kids to out-smart their parents. With every derisory sneer from our own 18yr-old, I’m still ‘benefitting’ from that early insight.
The valuable introduction to computing it did give us, was to lower our expectations, engender limitless patience, expect things to go wrong for no discernible reason and always have a Plan B. Not quite what we were hoping for but perennially useful, nonetheless.
As I type this on my MacBook Pro, surrounded by a variety of tech with unimaginably greater levels computing power than every item in that shop combined, the value of those formative lessons remains. Early 80s computing was crap – but it was necessarily crap.
5 years ago | The Brewery, London, UK | 30th November 2017
I’ve been to industry awards nights before and even picked up the odd award or two but this was the first time I’d ‘won’ an award for someone else.
Earlier that year, I’d been asked to write the award entry documentation to support CSG’s participation in the Manchester Chamber of Commerce Awards, in the category of ‘Best Use of Technology’. Such is the way of these things, you don’t just type in your company details and hit ‘Submit’. The documentation is more like a bunch of exam questions: “Demonstrate X” or “Show how Y”. Anyway, they won the Manchester award and went through to the National Awards in London. Kindly, I was invited to attend, although unfortunately, we didn’t win that night.
As a related note, I’ve recently submitted an award entry for another client and found out that they too have been nominated for the Award – I’m still waiting to hear if they won it. It would be nice to keep up my ‘success rate’!
* Obviously, I didn’t win anything. The content in the award submission was entirely CSG’s. I merely researched the full extent of their relevant activities and structured the details to their greatest effect in the entry documentation. You could have the best-performing organisation in the world and if that excellence isn’t accurately reflected in the entry process, you probably won’t win. That’s the bit where I can claim a little credit.
Tuesday sees the launch of Let’s Talk, the first of a regular series of lunchtime discussions.
You don’t have to know all the answers but listening to other contributions allows you to say “I may not know, but I can learn”.
The discussions, about a specific topic, are held in an informal atmosphere, hosted by a colleague with a passion for the subject. They’re designed to be thought-provoking and may not even provide all the answers but should stimulate a constructive conversation. The objective is that everyone goes away from the discussion having learned something.
Subjects for discussion are designed to be topical -which is why the first session is this:
How football can be a power for good in the LGBT+ community
The World Cup in Qatar has raised the issue of that country’s laws against homosexuality and treatment of LGBTQ+ citizens, tourists and detainees. How far could football go to speak out against the Qatari regime?
Is football culture still inherently homophobic? Currently there is only one openly LGBTQ+ player in the English professional leagues, Blackpool’s Jake Daniels. There are still frequent instances of homophobic abuse from fans, at the ground and on social media.
In recent years, football has worked to counter homophobia, using awareness-raising initiatives such as the rainbow laces weekends and the ‘One Love’ armband. Is this too little – or worse, simply lip service? Or, as this week’s German football team photo suggests, is there more that footballers want to do but are being denied the opportunity?
Is it fair to single out Qatar? There are currently 72 countries (about a third of all countries) who still criminalise homosexuality, according to a recent report. Should all sporting bodies award international tournaments to countries who have laws against homosexuality, particularly those who enforce conversion therapy or the death penalty?
Or is it simply a matter of football showing more bravery in providing LGBTQ+ support? The Iran football team’s refusal to sing their national anthem in protest at the Iranian regime’s brutal suppression of women protestors shows that the threat of merely a yellow card for wearing a particular armband is a privilege that pales against the price of allyship elsewhere.
The session will be held next Tuesday 29 November between 12.30 and 1.30pm in the Collaboration Space in [Redacted].
All are welcome and there’s no need to book – just turn up. Please note, if the room does reach capacity, we may have to, in line with fire regulations and people’s comfort, turn later arrivals away. As it’s lunchtime, all are welcome to bring their lunch with them.
We can also confirm that “sweet treats” will be provided. At this stage, we can’t confirm if that means parma violets or a Toblerone – you’ll have to attend to find out!
If you have a suggestion for a topic or theme for a follow up Let’s Talk, then please email your suggestion to [Redacted]
30 years ago | The Sugarhouse, Lancaster, UK | 25th November 1992
Not a picture from the night itself (it’s ”borrowed’ from the Sugarhouse twitter timeline) but this is exactly how I remember nights in the Student Union-owned nightspot – although slightly more out of focus, perhaps. I don’t know what was playing when this was taken but in my head, all I can hear is ‘Jump Around’ by House of Pain, ‘People Everyday’ by Arrested Development and perhaps a little smattering of ‘Dancing Queen’ by Abba.
So how is it I knew I was definitely in “The Shagga” this random midweek night in 1992, you may well ask. A diligently-kept diary? The law of averages? Not quite. Some internet research tells me that the following day (the 26th) was the date that Eric Cantona officially signed for Manchester United and I distinctly remember hearing “on good authority” from a fellow-reveller that the rumoured deal was done, while we were in the queue to get in.
Was this just a bit of alcohol-fuelled optimism that got lucky or was there really a direct line from Old Trafford to fist-year undergraduates in Lancaster? We’ll never know. All I can say is that the rumours were right and the next day, it happened and… …well you probably know the rest.
Anyway, let’s raise a 70p shot of vodka to the good old Sugarhouse: the site of many a top night out and perfectly situated for the kebab shop and bus stop afterwards. Cheers!
10 years ago | Orrell St. James RLFC, Wigan, UK | 18th November 2012
This is a post to mark the dedication of junior sports team families. For nearly five years, our Sunday mornings were mostly dominated by junior rugby. To the uninitiated, that may sound like an hour or so on the touchline but the reality is more like a lifestyle choice.
Two-hour training sessions, twice a week, travel to away games across the North West, pre-match team breakfasts, social occasions, fundraising activities, club outings and parents’ nights out. Then there’s all the stuff you need: the kit, training kit, footwear, safety wear, kit bags, a first aid kit, balls, kicking tees, raffle tickets, club merchandise. And then all the constant, incessant washing, It quickly takes over a large part of your life.
But then you wouldn’t have it any other way. The opportunity to reinforce the importance of achievement, of belonging to a team, the life-lessons of sacrifice and effort, the irregular moments of pure joy when everything goes well and the value of forbearance when things get tough.
It doesn’t end there. There’s a camaraderie amongst parents, a pooling of resources to keep the club functioning well and stories of club events that will only ever resonate quite as strongly to those who were there. What often starts with an invitation to ‘join in’ can become a defining part of family life.
And then one day, with almost no notice, it can all come to an end. You can’t force kids to carry on in a team just because you’ve moulded your life around it. You have to respect that and mould your life around something else. In many ways, it can be like a bereavement. As such, the best advice is not to mourn the loss of what was there but to be thankful that it was ever so special.
20 years ago | Bellagio Hotel, Las Vegas, Nevada, USA | c.11th November 2002
Part II of our honeymoon was spent in Las Vegas, five weeks after we got married. Things immediately got interesting when we landed in Philadelphia and went to check in to our connecting flight, to be told that “the airline went out of business yesterday”.
Fortunately, for $100 each, we could transfer to an outgoing US Air flight – if we were quick. We weren’t quick because US Airport Security was still painfully slow, over a year after 9/11, and the queues stretched back almost to the main entrance. Even more fortunately, we got through it all in time to take the last two seats on the replacement flight.
Here we are in front of the Bellagio’s lake, the home of their famous fountain display and a location in the recently-released ‘Ocean’s Eleven’. The even more recogniseable Caesar’s Palace is visible behind my right shoulder.
It had been an expensive year so we couldn’t afford to stay on the Strip itself. We stayed just off the Strip at the Gold Coast Resort, on West Flamingo, just the other side of Interstate 15.
We had a week of touring the casinos and various attractions, with a very moderate amount of gambling that reflected our we’ve-just-funded-a-wedding budget. We rode the rollercoaster at New York, New York and the Big Shot atop the Stratosphere Tower, we visited the car museum in the Flamingo, an Elvis museum…somewhere – and we didn’t bother with the Star Trek Experience at the Las Vegas Hilton. I was also gutted tho learn that a bit of pre-trip internet research (it was only just becoming a ‘thing’) would have told me that Aerosmith were playing the MGM Grand…
One morning, I was. a bit too keen to hit the breakfast buffet at [name withheld] and I think I might have had something that had been there a few hours because by that afternoon, I was being violently ill – a lot – with suspected food poisoning. To make it more interesting, we’d booked on a flight over the Grand Canyon the next day.
Consequently, I’m now one of a select group of people to have been spectacularly sick in at least three bags in a small plane over the place consistently named as the Worlds Number One ‘Place To See Before You Die’…
45 years ago | Wigan Infirmary, Wigan, UK | c.5th November 1977
Forty-five years ago, I nearly killed myself. I realise it sounds like hyperbolic clickbait to say so now but, it’s still absolutely true – and I can prove it. Also, while a happy ending today would probably elicit a ‘sad-face’ hospital-bed selfie now, it isn’t the sort of story you’d have commemorated with a photo in the 70s – so I’m afraid this library image will have to suffice.
When I was 4, I used to have a Tonka truck just like this. You may remember them. They were much, much bigger than Matchbox or Corgi toy cars but, even for small children, annoyingly just a little too small to sit on. Made of metal, they were absolutely indestructible and the hinged tipper part could be raised to tip out sand or stones or whatever else you could imagine it was being used to move. The best – actually, let’s make that ‘the most fun’ – way to play with it was to put a hand on each side and run around, pushing it at speed.
One day, in late October 1977, while running and pushing it around, bent over it, I remember thinking to myself, after a while, ‘it’s a bit uncomfortable to run around and keep looking up – so I’ll just run without looking’. It wasn’t the best idea I’ve ever had. I ran into a real truck, parked nearby, and fractured my skull, badly. I don’t remember anything else until almost a week later.
Unconscious, I was rushed to Wigan Infirmary for emergency surgery. I’m told that when a nurse was asked what else anyone could do, she replied “well, you can pray”. Under the care of our wonderful NHS, I eventually regained consciousness, with a significantly dented head – and was kept in for several days.
I’m not sure of the dates but I do remember being in hospital on Bonfire Night and seeing fireworks through the tall Edwardian windows. The scenes in ‘Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets’ where Harry is hospitalised, in an old iron bed in a high-ceilinged ward following his quidditch injury, have always strongly reminded me of those days and nights.
When I finally came home, I’d been given a cool sand-pit play area. Strangely, the Tonka truck was never seen again.
5 years ago | Houses of Parliament, London, UK | 25th October 2017
Five years ago, I got to spend a day at the place from where the country is governed. Not only did I manage to see inside Westminster Hall, the House of Lords and the House of Commons, I also got to see a Prime Minister’s Questions, featuring the then PM, Theresa May. All of these things are that not difficult to arrange as it’s every citizen’s right to be able to see how they are represented. But in addition to all that, I also managed to get a ‘backstage pass’ to the inner workings of the building, that very few members of the public are able to see…
Take a close look at this photo: the location of the camera, relative to the Thames. It’s Parliament but not from an angle you’re used to seeing. That’s because this is the Members’ Terrace: to be here, you have to be either an MP or their guest. A trip to Prime Minister’s Questions and some good contacts (Helen’s Mum) resulted in us being invited into the inner sanctum by the then Member for West Derby, Stephen Twigg.
We were treated to lunch in the Members’ Restaurant, which we had to pay for but, yes, it was quite significantly subsidised. It seemed to me to be about half the price you’d expect to pay, actually probably an even smaller proportion of Central London prices.
I’d encourage everyone to visit the Palace of Westminster and attend a PMQs to get a glimpse of how this country is run (especially at a time like this). And if you ‘know people’, you might even get a picture like this…
30 years ago: Bowland Tower, Lancaster University, UK – ??th October 1992 I’ll be honest, I have no idea on what date this photo was taken – do I look like I would? From the locked kitchen cupboards, the décor and, yes, the hair, I *can* tell you this was from my first year at university. I’d begun my degree course this month, celebrated my 19th birthday during Freshers’ Week and was firmly on the voyage of discovery that constituted that particular, mostly memorable, year. One port of call in that voyage was ‘Tizer’, the rudimentary home cocktail made from lots of rum, lots of vodka and a small amount of random red-coloured non-alcoholic drink. This, I believe, was an early foray into the world of ‘Tizer’ parties that would punctuate my three years there. Therefore, mid-October 1992 is as good an estimate of the date of this photo as any.
20 years ago: NEC Arena, Birmingham, UK – 11th October 2002 For two years, we were the main sponsor of the Prince Phillip Cup, the most prestigious competition in the sport of Mounted Games, with the final held at the Horse of the Year Show at the NEC in Birmingham. Helen and I were asked to present the prizes at one of the evening performances, hence the formal attire. I was due to do the same thing a year later but circumstances intervened and I had to decline the invitation – which effectively meant that I ‘stood up’ Princess Anne. Not many people can claim to have done that!
Here are some signs to look for – and a useful list of things you can do if you see anything that causes you concern.
Today is World Mental Health Day, dedicated to removing the stigma of mental illness and promoting mental wellness through understanding and allyship.
But what if your mental health concern isn’t for yourself but for someone else? A friend, a colleague or a family member? The more you understand, the better equipped you are to recognise the signs that someone’s struggling. The more you know, the better an ally you can be.
They may say:
I’m not in a good place right now
I’m having a hard time
I’m just not myself
I can’t focus or think straight as I’ve got too many distractions
They may act:
Differently to their usual vocal style, being quiet if they are usually talkative or talking very quickly
Low, body language, slumping, moving slowly, having little energy
less willing to engage with colleagues or friends, cancelling social events, often at the last minute
What you can do to help:
Explain that YHG is a supportive employer and would look to provide the appropriate support for colleagues who are not well
Be calm and open to conversation – perhaps suggest going to a quiet space to have a chat
Let them speak and explain what they want to share – try not to interrupt or finish sentences with what you think is the issue
Try to clarify by repeating the meaning of what they say back to them, for example, “I’m hearing that you’ve got some personal issues with (whatever) and that you’re having difficulty concentrating at work – is that right?”
Allow them time to speak and to have a recovery time– so if somebody says they can’t deal with life or work right now, try to make it possible for them to log off or leave work and take some time out for them, so that they can deal with how they feel and come back to work later – if they can. Ask how long they would like to take and agree some target boundaries.
Remind them that they are not alone, and remind them of our team of Mental Health First Aiders if this is not something you feel comfortable discussing further
Language we can all adopt to either ask for help or check in with someone:
Do you fancy a tea or coffee sometime?
I’ve noticed you’re not your usual self, shall we go somewhere for a chat?
What can I help you with?
I’d like you to know that I’ve had some difficult periods in my life, that anything we discuss is confidential and that I’m here to help – not to judge.
SPECIAL NOTE
If at any time you have a feeling that the colleague may be considering suicide, please ask outright if they are considering ending their life. Talking openly about suicide helps. You may be the first person to allow them to speak about suicide and you should arrange immediate support from a Mental Health First Aider or a Helpline like: Samaritans – You can call Samaritans free on 116 123 if they want to talk to someone now. Papyrus – Contact HOPELINEUK – If they are having thoughts of suicide, or are concerned for a person (up to age 35) who might be, they or you can contact HOPELINEUK for confidential support and practical advice. Call: 0800 068 4141, Text: 07860 039 967, Email: pat@papyrus-uk.org
Here’s more information about mental health and wellbeing at [Redacted], this World Mental Health Day
35 years ago: Central Park, Wigan, UK – 7th October 1987 I’m almost certainly on this picture. I was one of the 36,895 who packed into Wigan’s old Central Park ground to watch the cherry-and-whites become World Club Champions. That we were packed tightly at the very back of the corner terrace, far behind the floodlight pylon, suggests, as many believed, that there were well over 40,000 present – today, pretty much anyone in Wigan over 40 now claims to have been there! Wigan won a tense, physical, try-less affair 8-2 and history was made. Thanks in part to this game, 30 years later, I took the Manly ferry from Sydney and spent the day there.
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