Finito Issue 12

Handmade

Editor: Christopher Jackson

Editor-at-large: Claire Coe

Contributing Editors:

Emily Prescott, Meredith Taylor, Lord Ranger CBE, Liz Brewer, Dr Paul Hokemeyer

Advisory Board:

Sir John Griffin (Chairman), Dame Mary Richardson, Sir Anthony Seldon, Elizabeth Diaferia, Ty Goddard, Neil Carmichael

Management: Ronel Lehmann (Founder & CEO), Colin Hudson, Tom Pauk, Professor Robert Campbell Christopher Jackson, Curtis Ross, Julia Carrick OBE, Gaynor Goodliffe

Mentors:

Derek Walker, Andrew Inman, Chloë Garland, Alejandra Arteta, Angelina Giovani, Christopher Clark, Robin Rose, Sophia Petrides, Dana JamesEdwards, Iain Smith, Jeremy Cordrey, Martin Israel, Iandra Tchoudnowsky, Tim Levy, Peter Ibbetson, Claire Orlic, Judith Cocking, Sandra Hermitage, Claire Ashley, Dr Richard Davis, Sir David Lidington, Coco Stevenson, Talan Skeels-Piggins, Edward Short, David Hogan, Susan Hunt, Divyesh Kamdar, Julia Glenn, Neil Lancaster, Dr David Moffat, Jonathan Lander, Kirsty Bell, Simon Bell, Paul Brannigan, Kate King, Paul Aplin, Professor Andrew Eder, Derek Bell, Graham Turner, Matthew Thompson, Douglas Pryde, Pervin Shaikh, Adam Mitcheson, Ross Power, Caroline Roberts, Sue Harkness, Andy Tait, Mike Donoghue, Tony Mallin, Patrick Chapman, Amanda Brown, Tom Pauk, Daniel Barres, Patrick Chapman, Merrill Powell, Kate Glick, Lord Mott, Dr Susan Doering, Raghav Parkash, Marcus Day, Sheridan Mangal, Mark Thistlethwaite, Madhu Palmar, Margaret Stephens, John Cottrell, Victoria Anstey, Stephen Goldman, Patrick Timms, James Meek, Dominique Rollo, Tracey Jones, Alan Urmston, Duncan Palmer, James Slater, Charles Hamilton-Stubber.

Business Development: Rara Plumptre

Digital:

Stephen James, Stephen Morgan, D’Arcy Lawson Baker

Creative Director: Nick Pelekanos

Photography: Sam Pearce, Will Purcell, Gemma Levine

Public Relations: Pedroza Communications

Website Development: Eprefix

Media Buying: Virtual Campaign Management

Print Production: Marcus Dobbs

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Micropress Printers Ltd, Reydon Business Park, Fountain Way, Reydon, Southwold IP18 6SZ

Registered Address:

Finito Education Limited, 14th floor, 33 Cavendish Square, London W1G 0PW, +44 (0)20 3780 7700 Finito and FinitoWorld are trade marks of the owner. We cannot accept responsibility for unsolicited submissions, manuscripts and photographs. All prices and details are correct at time of going to press, but subject to change. We take no responsibility for omissions or errors. Reproduction in whole or in part without the publisher’s written permission is strictly prohibited. All rights reserved. Registered in England No. 9985173

FOUNDER’S LETTER

Many years ago, I was asked by a lawyer who had decided to leave Rowe & Maw (now Mayer Brown) for Baker McKenzie to review his announcement press release. The word “change” appeared numerous times. I edited this and settled on a quote: “After 14 years of turning right out of Black Friars tube station, I have decided to turn left.”

I avidly read other publications to see what they are up to. A review of The Guardian online results in a pop up: “This is what we are up against. Teams of lawyers from the rich and powerful trying to stop us publishing stories they do not want you to see. Lobby groups with opaque funding who are determined to undermine facts about the climate emergency and other established science. Authoritarian states with no regard for the freedom of the press. Bad actors spreading disinformation online to undermine democracy.” Here we feel quite lucky. We strive to make sure our own content never offends or pursues a controversial agenda to result in a scoop. If we ever have a reader who feels strongly about a subject, we will invite them to write for us.

Today, if you disagree or have an opinion, there are few ways to obtain any redress. One route is the Letter to the Editor. I write a fair few and it is competitive to be included. However, there are publications which ignore their readers at their peril. The Editor has an agenda and will not deviate from, nor include any other voices, if it

contradicts the angle of the news story. We speak about freedom of speech and how sacrosanct this is, yet the opportunity for a meaningful right of reply often gets lost with good intent and rarely meets expectations.

Complaining has never got easier. Today, when a utility or service provider fails to satisfy, it is easy to contact the CEO and find yourself at the front of the queue. However, I have noticed that these organisations rely on set phrases and paragraphs which they randomly insert, rather than replying personally to each individual customer complaint It makes for infuriating reading:

“We have looked into your concerns, thank you for reaching out to us, our complaints process has now come to an end and this is our final response,” even though nothing has been resolved. When challenged, they continue to repeat impersonal, nonsensical and unhelpful sentences or refer you to the Ombudsman.

The mere mention of Taylor Swift, the 14-time Grammy winner sends readers into excitement and economists into inflationary forecasts. The tour has become something of an economic phenomenon. The most impactful thing is that she has been making donations to food banks in every city that she’s performed in, with food banks reporting that her donations have single handedly ensured payment of food for the most disadvantaged in the next 12 months. This is a legacy to be proud of and we champion her.

"I've done my research, and I've made my choice. Your research is all yours to do, and the choice is yours to make." said Swift. For a brief moment I could be forgiven for thinking that she was directing her 283 million Instagram followers to our magazine and then I realised it was her public backing of Kamala Harris, who we previously featured in 2022, for President of the United States.

IT'S TIME FOR A CHANGE

Laugh about it/shout about it/ when you’ve got to choose/ anyway you look at this you lose.’ So sang Simon and Garfunkel in their song ‘Mrs Robinson’, and judging by the sheer number of people who voted for smaller parties and independents in the July 2024 election, it would seem many feel the same.

At the time of election, a majority of people don’t get the government they want – this time 66 per cent didn’t vote for Labour. Eventually, it can seem as though an administration has very few supporters, as Rishi Sunak would attest.

Whatever one thinks of the result of the election – in 2024, the largest display of collective schadenfreude ever aimed at a UK government –the process continues to seem unfit for purpose. When Sir Keir Starmer arrived on the steps of 10 Downing Street to announce that the country had voted for change, most people in the country inwardly assented. Indeed many Conservatives had been privately wanting their leadership to change tack for years.

But then the question followed: what kind of change? Even when Starmer announced at the end of that first address to the nation as Prime Minister that he was heading indoors to get to work there was still a good deal of doubt as to what precise work he might be referring to.

Would he empty the prisons as his new advisor James Timpson wanted him to? And how would his new Justice Secretary Shabana Mahmood feel about that, having said rather different things? Would Starmer raise taxes? And if so, which ones? And to do what?

We know now that Rachel Reeves would discover her £20 billion black

hole and that there would be a 22 per cent pay offer for junior doctors. But really Labour’s campaign had been a masterclass in campaigning according to Napoleon’s dictum of never interrupting your opponent while they’re making a mistake.

The format of our elections had meant that by and large Starmer hadn’t had to elaborate on his plans. This isn’t good for the electorate – and it’s not ideal for the Labour Party itself which will eventually disappoint partly because people have been projecting their hopes at this vagueness. “I serve as a blank screen on which people of vastly different political stripes project their own views,” as President Obama wrote in The Audacity of Hope.

At one point in his speech, Starmer said he would be ‘unburdened by doctrine’. This was good to hear, since there is a perennial appetite for pragmatic politics – but mainly people liked the notion of change, since that’s predominantly what they’ve had to go on. As 2024 comes to its conclusion, positions have been carved out amid the need to govern.

Shakespeare’s Hamlet found out that there is nothing quite like events for forcing you into a display of your character which will smoke out your beliefs whether you like it or not; Starmer has discovered the same and is now a more complex and more substantial figure after a few months of government.

When it comes to employability, the subject of this magazine, the matter hardly came up throughout the sixweek campaign – except tangentially in that there was talk of an increase in green jobs due to decarbonisation of the economy. Labour also stated that a ‘back to work plan’ would aim

to increase the employment rate from 75 per cent to 80 per cent, though it wasn’t mentioned at all in the Labour manifesto.

The new Department for Work and Pensions secretary Liz Kendall spoke during her 2015 leadership campaign of her commitment to the living wage, and expressed support for worker representation on company boards –which Theresa May also at one time espoused. None of this was much to go on.

Now we know of the role mayors will play in getting the inactive into work, and we also know about the planned merger of the National Careers Service and Jobcentre Plus. It’s an interesting idea and it’s slightly regrettable it was never debated in any detail during the campaign.

In fact, the media must take a larger share of the blame for our lack of knowledge about the nature of the new government. The TV debates were once again ludicrous with the whole of the taxation or healthcare system having to be explained in 45 seconds. The manifesto coverage was slender, as were the manifestos themselves.

The typical response from the media is that they must whittle the issues down in order to cater to voters’ dwindling attention spans. But what if there is a far greater hunger for detail than they think? One often hears the chief reporters of the major outlets speculate about how a certain matter is ‘only for people in the Westminster bubble’. The depth of emotion around politics at each election cycle makes one think that at 45 seconds into an explanation around tax, the people may not be tuning out – they may just be tuning in.

To paraphrase Starmer, it’s time for a change.

SHOULD THE ELECTORAL COMMISSION BE SCRAPPED?

Finito Publishing recently published Alan Halsall’s landmark book Last Man Standing, which could hardly have arrived at a more relevant time. Halsall was the Chairman of Silver Cross, the pram company, and then went onto be the Responsible Person for Vote Leave. Essentially, this role meant that he was the man who had final sign off the Vote Leave accounts. This he did, working in his capacity as a volunteer.

As everyone knows, the Vote Leave campaign was successful. Halsall sought to return to his own life, and by Christmas 2016 he had signed off the Declaration of Spending, thinking that he would now return to his business life.

He couldn’t have been more wrong: in 2017 letters began landing on Halsall’s desk from the Electoral Commission, relating to claims that expenditure had been deliberately exceeded, and monies

sent to Darren Grimes’ BeLeave, among others, in violation of the ‘common plan’ provisions under the legislation which originally set up the Electoral Commission.

Halsall was incredulous but worked, always as a volunteer, with another volunteer Antonia Flockton in a bid to prove that there had been no such common plan. Eventually, to his astonishment he woke one day in 2018 to find that he had been referred to the police by the CEO of the Electoral Commission Claire Bassett. What was most astonishing about this was that Halsall, in spite of having been offered up for interview by Vote Leave’s lawyers, was given 10 minutes notice that the news was to be announced on the Today programme.

Halsall’s ordeal became increasingly unbearable – not least because the

Initiallyinvestigation proceeded slowly. A group of Remainer MPs including Tom Bradshaw and Caroline Lucas would in time clamour for the police investigation to speed up – few readers will be left in any doubt that this was related to the desire for a second Referendum.

It is a book which raises considerable questions about the very nature of quangos – especially now we have a Labour government who will, arguably, be sympathetic to the continued growth of the state.

There has been broad unanimity that the Electoral Commission should be reformed – but does it need to be there at all? It could be argued that we got along fine without it throughout most of our history. We commend Halsall’s book to our readers.

THE LEVY’S GONNA BREAK

it sounds a good idea to expand the apprenticeship levy and reform it into the “growth and skills levy”. This would mean that other forms of training were now possible under the scheme, with businesses allowed to use 50 per cent of their apprenticeship funding. This is all part of a general offer to young people between the age of 18 and 21 called the ‘youth guarantee’.

It is difficult to gauge the cost of such a move. Under the previous government, Labour’s proposals were estimated to cost £1.5 billion – and it’s not clear how it would be paid for. At that time, the then skills minister Rob

Halfon argued that it is ‘important that the apprenticeships budget remains ring-fenced for apprenticeships to ensure continued affordability of the programme”.

The real problem is in what firms will do with the money. Some analysis points to the likelihood that firms will use the money from the new levy to cover their costs for training programmes which they would probably have paid for already. Labour stated before coming to power that it would issue a list of approved courses, but already it looks less simple to administer than the levy was before.

The inevitable result of the new levy would be fewer apprenticeships –probably down to under 150,000 per year, a huge decrease in the number of young people having apprenticeships –but that’s only if the figure is right, since it essentially charts a situation where large employers use all their levy and use up the 50 per cent allowed for nonapprenticeship training.

Obviously the situation would be more complex than that – and so the question comes down to the detail of how the policy will be be designed and what incentives will be built into the system. Watch this space.

H3, 105m, Oceanco, 20 guests

THIS ISSUE

COLUMNS

Sir

FEATURES

Cameron

ART, CULTURE & BOOKS

102 WHEN TOM MET BRIN Fortnum & Mason meets MasterChef

108 150 YEARS OF COLOUR

Anniversary of the impressionists

116 SOUND OF SIMON

Summing up Paul Simon’s career

122 WONDERFUL GUY

Interview with Guy Ritchie

128 GREAT READS Our books round-up

132 LAND OF SAMURAI AND HAIKU

Remembering Japan

144 CLASS DISMISSED Richard Desmond

p122 Guy Ritchie

Richard Desmond

ACCESSORIES BATHROOMS BEDS

CARPETS, RUGS & FLOORING

CURTAINS, POLES & FINIALS

FABRICS FURNITURE HARDWARE

KITCHENS LIGHTING

OUTDOOR FABRICS

OUTDOOR FURNITURE PAINT

TILES TRIMMINGS & LEATHER

WALLCOVERINGS

ABI INTERIORS ALEXANDER LAMONT + MILES ALTFIELD

ALTON-BROOKE AND OBJECTS ANDREW MARTIN

ARTE ARTERIORS ARTISANS OF DEVIZES AUGUST & CO

BAKER LIFESTYLE BELLA FIGURA BRUNSCHWIG & FILS

C & C MILANO CASAMANCE CECCOTTI COLLEZIONI CHASE

ERWIN CHRISTIAN LEE (FABRICUT) CHRISTOPHER HYDE

LIGHTING COLE & SON COLEFAX AND FOWLER COLLIER WEBB

COLONY BY CASA LUIZA CRUCIAL TRADING DAVID HUNT

LIGHTING DAVID SEYFRIED LTD DE LE CUONA DEDAR

DONGHIA AT GP & J BAKER ECCOTRADING DESIGN

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HECTOR FINCH HOLLAND & SHERRY HOULÈS HOUSE OF ROHL

HUMA KITCHENS IKSEL DECORATIVE ARTS INTERDESIGN UK

JACARANDA CARPETS & RUGS JAIPUR RUGS JASON D’SOUZA

JEAN MONRO JENNIFER MANNERS DESIGN JENSEN BEDS JULIAN

CHICHESTER KINGCOME KRAVET KVADRAT LASKASAS LEE JOFA

LELIÈVRE PARIS LEWIS & WOOD LINCRUSTA LIZZO LONDON

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PAVONI PERENNIALS SUTHERLAND STUDIO PHILIPPE HUREL

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ROMO RUBELLI THE RUG COMPANY SA BAXTER ARCHITECTURAL HARDWARE SACCO CARPET SAMUEL & SONS SAMUEL HEATH

SANDERSON SAVOIR BEDS SCHUMACHER SHEPEL’ SIMPSONS THE SPECIFIED STARK CARPET STUDIO FRANCHI STUDIOTEX SUMMIT FURNITURE THG PARIS THREADS AT GP & J BAKER TIGERMOTH LIGHTING TIM PAGE CARPETS TISSUS D’HÉLÈNE TOLLGARD

TOM RAFFIELD TOPFLOOR BY ESTI TUFENKIAN ARTISAN CARPETS TURNELL & GIGON TURNSTYLE DESIGNS TURRI

VAUGHAN VIA ARKADIA (TILES) VISPRING VISUAL COMFORT & CO. WATTS 1874 WENDY MORRISON WEST ONE BATHROOMS WIRED CUSTOM LIGHTING WOOL CLASSICS ZIMMER + ROHDE ZOFFANY ZUBER

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CARL STARR

THE FORMER HEAD AT THE JAMES WEBB SPACE TELESCOPE

ON THE STATE OF PLAY IN THE SPACE SECTOR

Iworked on a programme with NASA for 27 years doing the James Webb Telescope. It was the early 2000s, I was in California. I’d just finished launching one of the earth observing satellites which NASA was doing. My buddy came into the office and said: “We’re going to build a telescope. Want to join?”” How long will it be?” “It’ll only be a few years.” Twenty years later, I was still working on it.

WhenI started there were three of us. I ended up being in the highest role, the Mission Operations Manager, but I began as an operations engineer. The team grew to 700 people – it changed over the years. If you keep your eyes open, people come and people go, and there are always opportunities on a large project like that.

The telescope is rewriting astronomers' and cosmologists' understanding of how the universe works and how it was created. There are disruptions into the Big Bang Theory. Some of its measurements and observations are baffling scientists: we’re looking at galaxies which shouldn’t be where they are, making us think the universe may be older than we thought. It really is an engineering marvel. Whatever it takes a picture of it’s quite accurate.

Idon’t think people really appreciates what it took to get it there. You see on TV programmes about how we invented ten different technologies to make the telescope work: that engineering side is awesome. But to truly operate it was something else: it doesn’t operate itself. That’s been lost: we’re talking about regular people who worked it day to day, and planned its operations. When it first went into orbit it was 24/7. You can

make a pen, or a box. But who’s going to use it and what are you going to do when it goes wrong. That gets lost. Who are these people who make this happen every day? It’s not the astronomers.

Ilikeinterpreting between regular people and scientists. Our basic understanding is that the universe is 13.8 billion years old, and that galaxies didn’t start forming until about 500,000 years into that process. But the telescope is taking pictures of galaxies which are older than that – that means we got something wrong somewhere. Scientists are baffled by that, and it can be funny to see them try to explain it: they can’t.

Upuntil now, nobody has had something this powerful with which to look at anything. They’re just surprised by everything they see. Think of the early phones – they took quite good pictures. Then they came up with the digital camera and the pictures were amazing. Television is the same: now everybody has such good resolution on their TV that people on the screen looks almost 3D. The telescope is like that: the resolution of the image and the crispness of its data is just really cool. We won’t know for a good while what the data is telling us but the astronomical community is already very excited by the data we’re getting.

Themore the telescope gets used and looks for other signs of world, it makes me feel more special that there’s life on this planet to this degree. There may be life out there, but I always re-centre myself and think: ‘We’re pretty special – look at what we’ve done as a species.’ Maybe there is life in this area of the universe: we constantly look at thousands of planets, but there’s isn’t life there. In the end, every observation

Carl Starr

solidifies that we are special – that doesn’t have to make us big-headed. In fact, it’s humbling.

Ifwe did discover life on Mars, that would be a game-changer. But then we’d have to think about how to get there? We don’t have very advanced jet propulsion systems. It’ll be interesting to see when we find something what the next thought process is. We have four billion years before our sun starts making life here a problem, so our species will have to evolve. We haven’t been on the planet a million years – in a star timeframe, that’s nothing. Give it another hundred thousand years, and another and another. What will we look like? Can we go across the galaxy quick?

Weneed to go to the moon first. It’s easier and closer – if something bad happens, you can get home rightaway. Mars is a six month trip. In order to go to the next set of levels, you’ll need to colonise the moon, take what you learn then go to Mars, or one of the moons of Jupiter. People who colonise will need to not come back to earth ever. Their bones structures, chemical composition will change – our self is going to look a lot different.

Meet the Mentor: RARA PLUMPTRE

WE MEET FINITO MENTOR AND FOUNDER OF AECS COMMUNICATIONS, RARA PLUMPTRE, WHO TELLS US ABOUT NETWORKING, AND WHY SHE’S ON A MISSION TO END HOMELESSNESS.

Tell us a little about your early life and education. Did you have mentors growing up who altered the way you are today?

I was taken to South Africa on the Union Castle boat to Cape Town in the 50’s at six weeks old by my nanny; my parents were living in Durban. My early life started in a rabbit hutch as I adored animals – and still do. I loved the outside world: sun, sea and sand.

My education didn’t start until I was five years old, where I went to a convent in Durban. Personally I wasn’t the most conforming of children – to say the least. Ten or so years later, at the age of 16, I ended my schooling with one GCSE: I had climbed out of, or been expelled, from most schools. Thankfully my education finished, much to my delight: the only thing I missed was sport. My mentor was my nanny, who for all my faults loved me and wanted me to achieve in life, and perhaps she found my truancy less troubling than my parents did.

My first job altered my whole life: at 17 years of age I was taken on as an au pair and cook for an Italian family in Florence, where I stayed for a year and a bit, having opened the liquidiser on gazpacho soup on my arrival: I was still picking soup off the ceiling when I left! Once I was back in England, I walked into a job with Stephen Marks, founder of French Connection. At 19, I had become a manageress of his first shop in South Molton Street.

Knowing what you know now, what would say to your younger self about the world of work?

I would say it’s important to stay true to yourself and to be grateful for every day. I’ve also come to learn that business never goes straight, and that it’s vital to have mentors from an early stage.

Of course, the world has changed hugely. When I was growing up, we were more outside than in – rain or snow. We were freer and lighter with troubles, and we had less to worry about. We had a choice of one tomato, not 30 when we shopped: you could certainly say that life was much simpler – and perhaps what we need to do is cultivate that simplicity. When I first flew to Africa from England you couldn’t fly direct: we had to refuel in Entebbe in Uganda or Kinshasa in the Congo. My father gave us coins to buy stamps since he was a great stamp collector. When we landed in the above, we would buy the stamps we liked, and arrive in Johannesburg with them. He was thrilled to bits possibly not about seeing us – but the stamps he loved! I suppose I have wanted to preserve something of the old way of life in my own career.

You are obviously extremely passionate about helping the next generation. Can you talk a little about your experiences of working with the young. What’s the best way to help make a difference?

Life for the young now is very different than it was when I was brought up. We only did face-to-face interviews: nowadays online applications are the norm. I think that can be soul-destroying as often a mass of applications for a job can have not one single reply. In the future, my thinking is that as a society we need to rotate the young with mentors at a young age, bringing them up with two or three people who will help them right through their later stages of school, and build for their careers ahead. If we do that, then they will always have someone watching their back in life.

For deeply personal reasons, homelessness is obviously of huge importance to you as an issue. Can you talk a bit about this area, and how we can all help to tackle this problem?

The reason I became homeless was through divorce. I now work pro bono helping in that area. I arrived in London where

Rara Plumptre

some wonderful friends took me in. I slept for three days with the emotion of packing up a seven-bedroom house with animals which we had also to find homes for. My CV read that I had only been a mother for 20 plus years – so getting back to work was difficult, especially as I hadn’t lived in London for 28 years.

I remember I was in Clapham, in a haze, and trying to recover from the grief of being homeless. I walked into a gift shop in Abbeville Road. I liked it there and, on and off, I spent my days in the shop because I felt safe. The owner of the shop eventually said to me: “You seem to be in my shop rather a lot, and never buy anything. Why?”

I told her my story: I had arrived in London with five pounds in my pocket. She retorted: ‘Do you want a job?’ which I jumped at. So for £100 a weekend, I started to earn again. And the rest is history.

Issues like homelessness and immigration remind us that the gap between rich and poor keeps getting deeper. This inevitably means that more and more people will be found on the street. Fortunately, there are wonderful charities like Under One Sky, and CEO Sleep Out in England in existence. I am passionate about helping to make a difference in people’s lives and trying to lobby the government to make a bigger difference to housing and the homeless.

You love to make connections between people. Can you tell us a bit about how personal relationships can transform businesses and individual careers?

lives. To have personal discussions is vital for the young and old. In that I personally feel that one should never stop working, if one enjoys what one is doing. The old can mentor the young through good times and bad. There is a long time to sleep one day. Why waste time with your feet up?

I’ve noticed that kindness runs through everything you do. It seems as though success in business can sometimes be about doing the small things well. What tips would you have for young people in relation to this?

I was taught a long time ago that adversity brings you two things, a lesson and a blessing – and they normally come in that order. Kindness and trust are invaluable: if you have people draining your energy try to ‘realign’ and find ways to create new structures of positivity. When you are drained or low, start the day with three good deeds, and in that, your day will automatically improve. Having been homeless and sofa-surfing ten years ago, my family and my friends have got me to where I am today. But most of all, every single person I have met in those years has got me to where I am today, and for that I am truly grateful.

For more information about Rara’s work go to: https://www.finito.org.uk/mentors/rara-plumptre http://underoneskytogether.com http://ceosleepout.co.uk

Personal relationships are hugely important in transforming businesses, and networking is key to the future, as technology takes over our day-to-day

COLUMNS

20 | LADY LEAVING Theresa May looks back on her time in office

The Humanitarian SIR TERRY WAITE

EVER CONSIDERED A CAREER IN RELIGION?

THE GREAT FAITH LEADER HAS SOME ADVICE FOR YOU

Faith has been a vital part of my work, and that has been a gradual growth over the years. My understanding of these matters has not been dramatic in the sense of having had a sudden conversion: instead, I think that one’s understanding changes as life goes on and experience teaches you to reflect – if you can make time to reflect, of course.

When I was younger I thought I knew myself and thought I understood myself. But as I get older I recognise that one has a capacity to deceive oneself – and perhaps that is true of all human beings. We can go on thinking that we are in the right way, and we might do that for a whole variety of reasons. Part of the process of life is to try and gain a greater in-depth understanding of yourself and your motives.

All of this is aided or supported by our Christian belief and by our belief in our spiritual life – but it’s a long process and it doesn’t come quickly. Hopefully when one gets into one’s latter years then perhaps one has gained a little more understanding. We ought to grow in our lives, and to some extent become different from our young selves. And yet I also find that none of this is in contradiction to the essential principles I was taught when I was young.

I am sometimes asked if I have refreshed my faith over time; I think it’s a gradual process. It will involve a constant self-examination. For instance, I am still an Anglican which I was brought up as. But I am also a Quaker, and a member of the Religious Society of Friends: I call myself a

quanglican – a mixture of both. As I grow older in life and experience, I recognise the necessity of silence and how communal silence is of the utmost importance. That time alone, spent in meditation, is where we can sometimes make great spiritual leaps forward, and that is an important part of the Quakers approach. Perhaps this will not always appeal to young people who may sometimes prefer much more exuberance – much more clapping and jumping around. As one progresses, one finds that perhaps there is nothing wrong in expressing yourself in those ways but that it is important too to balance that kind of worship with reflection. It turns out to be a sound scriptural principle: Christ himself went out into the wilderness for 40 days and 40 nights, and also spent time alone on the final night of his life. That means that there is precedent throughout history, but it is something we must grow into.

“IT CAN BE A VERY HARD LIFE.”

All of which means that we need good teachers and educators in our faith groups – those who do not push people prematurely in any particular direction, but who will be gentle with people in their development rather than letting people stay at one particular point. That said, it is worth thinking very carefully before you enter a career in faith: it can be a very hard life. I had to think very hard when I came to my own course of action.

It was often said that I ought to be ordained as a clergyman but I never felt

that as a vocation. I chose to remain as a layperson within the church and have worked in that capacity for most of my life. That wasn’t an easy choice in many ways because there was no chance of promotion and becoming an Archdeacon or Bishop or a Dean: you remain a simple layman. Looking back, it was a big risk because with a young family and a mortgage, I had finaicial obligations to meet. I remember acute anxiety all the time. Even so, I am glad I did it. I don’t have regrets: it was absolutely the right decision not to be ordained but to remain as a layperson. I never had a vocation to be ordained –it’s just not me.

So somehow this is where selfknowledge comes in. We need to know ourselves, and do what we believe to be right. Of course, we also need good counsel, and it would be a mistake to be too solitary in our decisions. But if you follow your vocation, it will work out for you. Of course, perhaps it won’t work out in precisely the way you expected – but it will work out.

Sir Terry Waite

LADY MAY

THE FORMER LEADER, AND CAMPAIGNER AGAINST MODERN SLAVERY, ON HER BOOK, THE FUTURE OF EUROPE AND DONALD TRUMP

My book Abuse of Power I hope has relevance: the issues I wrote about have been brought into sharp focus of late. I didn’t write about the contaminated blood scandal in my book; although I had set the enquiry up. The issues I write about, such as Grenfell, Hillsborough and Brexit, and some foreign affairs: these all have one theme underpinning theme. This is writ large in the contaminated blood scandal: there is the sense of an institution that should defend itself rather than protect or serve those who it is there to serve.

Let’s look at Hillsborough for example, the terrible sporting tragedy in 1989 when 97 people lost their lives as a result of mistakes made by the police, whereby the inquest found out that those 97 had been unlawfully killed. After Hillsborough in the aftermath, South Yorkshire changed 100 witness statements to be more favourable to the police. That is a body in the public sector which everybody would expect to be searching for the truth: they didn’t, they chose to defend themselves. We have seen this in the Post Office on the Horizon issue, in the contaminated blood scandal, in the Primodos we’ve seen it in institutions where child sexual abuse has taken place. People defend their reputation rather than recognising they are there to serve the public. The overall theme of the book is that being a politician or prime minister is not a position of power, it is a position of service.

I fear that we have an increasing sense of a politics which is about power and not about service. I think it’s very important as we look ahead to a new

House of Commons and all the new intake: that is what the job is about. It’s not about grabbing headlines, it’s not about you and what you feel you can do for yourself: it’s about what you can do for other people.

“I FEAR THAT WE HAVE AN INCREASING SENSE OF A POLITICS WHICH IS ABOUT POWER AND NOT ABOUT SERVICE.”

One or two of my parliamentary colleagues have kindly said that they read the book on audio but that it sent them to sleep.

I am sometimes asked what my focus will be after leaving. I hope now to have more flexibility to do more walking. There are three areas I’ll be focusing on. One is climate change, where I chair an organisation called the Aldersgate Group, which has businesses from a number of sectors looking at how to achieve net zero in different sectors, and what government policy will help to support that. Secondly, I’ve been looking at domestic abuse, working to ensure the Domestic Abuse Act actually is functioning properly and fulfils its objectives. The thing that has triggered my leaving the House of Commons, is that last October I set up a Global Commission on Modern Slavery and Human Trafficking and that is taking up more time than I had expected. Our next meeting is in

Kenya and there’s a lot of work to be done there because sadly the number of people in slavery across the world has been increasing and we want to give greater political momentum to that issue. I have also been working on how we implement our own domestic legislation.

On education, any political party should want to appeal to the largest number of people as possible. One of the challenges inside a department is that you’re so busy with the day-to-day that it can be difficult to look at fresh thinking and new ideas that come through – you have to create that time. The job of a civil servant is to fill every moment of a minister’s day because if you don’t do that the ministers might start thinking for themselves.

The Metropolitan Police spoke recently about bringing charges and passing charges to the prosecution service: it’s always one of the challenges when you set up an enquiry because police investigation won’t complete until after

Theresa May (Wikipedia.org)

that enquiry has completed. Victims and survivors are naturally very keen to see justice done, but it does become a lengthy process. If you look at the Grenfell enquiry, the interim report has already exposed some issues; the final report later in the year will likely expose, in great details, a whole range of issues around the way in which this situation was able to develop. That’s what public enquiries are there for; they are there to get to the truth. Could we get to the truth earlier? We could, if people were more up front.

“ONE THING I HAVE BEEN BACKING IS THE INTRODUCTION OF THE INDEPENDENT PUBLIC ADVOCATE WHO WOULD BE THERE TO WORK WITH VICTIMS OF PUBLIC TRAGEDY.”

One thing I have been backing is the introduction of the Independent Public Advocate who would be there to work with victims of public tragedy. The family and the survivors often find themselves hitting their heads against a brick wall of defensive approach that is taken by whatever body they happen to be dealing with –whether it’s a branch of the police or a local authority. I wanted to create an independent public advocate to help break barriers for them to help them to the information to get them the truth at an earlier stage – and in fact expose the truth more generally at an earlier stage.

My view is that over time we will see a softening of the relationship between the UK and the rest of Europe. That’s been brought into

focus with Ukraine, we’ve seen the importance of supporting them together in that fight against Russia. It makes sense that we should be working together on a number of areas: one of the things we had in the political declaration alongside the Brexit deal I negotiated in my time as PM, was precisely these relationships on foreign policy, in defence and on homeland security, recognising that when it makes sense for both sides we should be working together. In a sense what’s more interesting is where the EU will go. We know the tensions: for instance, Hungary provides some challenges in the EU. The electoral significance of these right wing parties across the EU is yet to be seen, and Emmanuel Macron has some interesting ideas about the future shape and structure of Europe. Meanwhile, others are knocking on the door – particularly Albania. But in general, we’ve realised we have to work with Europe.

The social care policy was a factor in the 2017 election and it’s still something that the country needs to address: politicians need to have an open and honest conversation with the public about this. I’ve been Conservative all my life. One of the things I’ve been brought up to believe is that when you’re able you should put something aside for a rainy day. The welfare state, when it was created, was there to support people who weren’t able to do that, and to help people at certain challenging points in their life. Somewhere along the line, we’ve got to the point of saying nobody should have to sell their house to pay for their care and that, whatever happens, the government will provide. But if someone is sitting on a significant asset why should the young couple down the road struggling on average earnings to keep their head above water pay for that person’s care? There’s a conversation there that we need to have.

We live in much more uncertain and unpredictable times. It’s certainly the case that security has gone up the agenda because of our continuing support for Ukraine, but the number one issue in any election is the economy. I think there’s the need in today’s world to think a little more creatively about defence. People think in terms of big bits of kit for the army; but in Ukraine we have seen that drones have been incredibly effective. It’s concerning that Labour has not matched the government’s defence spending plans. What happened in Afghanistan has not made life easier as it’s made that country return to its former state as a place where terrorists can be trained. What’s happening in Gaza is potentially another flash point for those who would do us harm.

“HERE YOU ARE, PM, YOU CAN CHANGE THERE.”

I will miss many of my colleagues – and I will remember the strange things. I remember the occasion when I was PM, when I was in Iraq. I was flying back to have dinner in Saudi Arabia and had to change before the dinner. I was being transported in an RAF Hercules, which is a troop carrier. There are no facilities on such aircraft, let alone for a woman. I said I had to change. The RAF put their heads together and took me up into the cockpit and they sat me down between the pilot and the co-pilot. They got a sheet and some gaffer tape and said: “Here you are, PM, you can change there.”

Abuse of Power is reviewed on page 128.

The Economist

ROGER BOOTLE

THE CHAIR OF CAPITAL ECONOMICS DIVES DEEPER INTO THE REAL IMPLICATIONS OF ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE

It seems to me that the impact of Artificial Intelligence (AI) has been exaggerated in a range of ways. When it comes to the future of mentoring, surely the human aspect is what education is really about. I have benefitted from it myself on many occasions during my education and it is just irreplaceable - that certain spark of inspiration which gives you motivation and gets you to understand something.

In my book The AI Economy, I cite a number of incidents of fuzzy logic which human beings cope with and which, to the best of my knowledge, so far artificial intelligence can’t. I am thinking of instances where something is either logically ambiguous or logically misleading. We have a way of seeing what the meaning is, but even the most sophisticated computers don't. For instance, in the film Paddington, there's a wonderful bit where the bear goes on the tube and he starts to get on the escalator. He sees a sign that says 'Dogs Must Be Carried' - so he races up the escalator in the wrong direction, runs out into the street and steals a dog so that he may comply with the instruction that dogs must be carried. It’s absolutely wonderful. Human beings look at a sign like that, and they don’t need to wonder for very long about the fuzzy logic. They understand what it means: if you have got a dog it must be carried. I suspect computers would struggle to make that interpretation.

Another one that I like very much is the sign in a lift: "Do not use in case of fire. What it actually means is: if there is a fire do not use this. That’s not what it says. There are a whole series of cases

where the human mind is not just a computer that is based on logic - and it’s very difficult to replicate that sort of thing.

“THERE IS SOMETHING VERY SPECIAL ABOUT THE WAY THE HUMAN MIND WORKS WHICH A COMPUTER CAN NEVER REPLICATE.”

In The AI Economy, I also quote areas where this whole subject spills over into certain sorts of philosophical or even theological topics. These are notoriously difficult to get into. I have got a chapter called ‘Epilogue’ at the

end where I touch on issues regarding the nature of the human mind. I refer to this great mathematical physicist who recently got the Nobel Prize, Roger Penrose, who is now doing work in this area, even though he is 84. His big contention is that he thinks there is something very special about the way the human mind works which a computer can never replicate.

Sacredness is a very important word. Penrose says that he has come to think that the universe is like a three-legged stool. One of the legs is physical reality - the sort of stuff the physicists study. The second leg is mathematical logical truths which are eternally just there. But the third leg is consciousness and he says that human beings instinctively know this – but science knows very little about this third leg and is loath to recognise its importance.

It’s all a big challenge to the AI geeks,

Roger Bootle (Wikipedia.org)

as I call them. It’s bad enough what they have to say about economics, but what they say about these philosophical questions is just extraordinary. On the one hand, the AI geeks bravely overestimate the bad side of all of this - but they also underestimate the good side for human beings when it comes to what can actually be done.

For instance, there’s a section in the book about driverless cars. I am a sceptic on this question, but I think there are going to be more and more uses for driverless vehicles: we’ve had driverless shuttles at airports for goodness knows how long. Even so, what I have great difficulty in imagining is driverless cars in city centres without the complete remodelling of the nature of cities, though the real fanatics argue that’s exactly what should happen. It should be perfectly feasible to have driverless vehicles - either lorries or cars - working pretty successfully on motorways where effectively the solution might be a bit like railways – where you haven’t got rails guiding them but you have got something else essentially operating according to the same sort of principle.

“THE DIFFICULTY COMES WITH THE UNPREDICTABILITY OF WHAT HAPPENS IN URBAN CENTRES.”

The difficulty comes with the unpredictability of what happens in urban centres: a child rushes out in front of the vehicle – a cyclist veers over or some sort of dreadful weather impedes the functioning of the vehicle. I find it very difficult to imagine a driverless vehicle being able to cope with all those things - and, indeed, the tests that have been done so far

reveal that result. Given that, it’s extraordinary when you follow the predictions of the AI professionals: that we are all supposed to be driven around in driverless vehicles now for about 10 years at least.

“HAVING THE TUBE NETWORK RUN COMPLETELY WITHOUT DRIVERS WOULD BE A MARVELLOUS IDEA: IT WOULD MEAN BIG SAVINGS THERE.”

Of course, it has not happened and all these tests that have taken place have been in places like Arizona with clear bright days, uncrowded roads and not in London in February on a winter afternoon. I see a sort of middle of the road solution to all of this whereby there could be quite a lot of driverless vehicles in certain environments. And where it is possible, the point is that there will be huge benefits. Another particular example is agriculture. Where you have got this defined space of huge agricultural fields, there’s no reason why you can’t have driverless tractors and other agricultural vehicles in an area: it seems to me that would be brilliant from all sorts of points of view. In addition, having the tube network run completely without drivers would be a marvellous idea: it would mean big savings there.

The response of the driverless vehicle enthusiasts to all this is quite interesting. First of all, they say it’s all a matter of time until we develop the software that’s going to deal with all that – and eventually, after so many failings, the current line is that they can cope but that they'll need to remodel cities. Essentially all city centres will be redesigned so that there aren’t entry

points for cyclists and children running out. In other words the roads in cities become the equivalent of the lane motorways I was talking about earlier. This is sheer madness. The whole point of the city is to have interaction between vehicles and cyclists.

Besides, the enthusiasts underestimate the spiritual and emotional implications for human beings living in those cities when it comes to such a vast restructuring, and they also don’t seem to take into account the economic cost. Even if all this is technically feasible, it’s beyond billions to refashion cities to make these vehicles function. Aviation is another example where the AI geeks overestimate the likely impact of technology. For example, I don’t think many passengers or would-be passengers would be prepared to get onto a plane which didn’t have a human pilot up front, even as we know most of the flying is done by computer: they will still want to feel that there is a human being there.

Similarly, there are some examples of captainless, or pilotless boats. Again one can imagine this working across quite small and narrowly defined stretches of water: a ferry across a fjord in Norway or something like that. I can also imagine quite a few examples of that in Britain, such as the area around Studland in Dorset. That’s had a ferry going across the mouth of Poole Harbour since I don’t know when – and to the best of my knowledge it’s still driven by a human. I can imagine that being done by some form of artificial intelligence – but I can’t really imagine ocean-going ships without any human beings on them even though quite a lot of the steering management of the ship is done by computer on the big cargo vessels. I think in truth, human beings will always have a need for other human beings.

The World Champion FATIMA WHITBREAD

CHRISTOPHER JACKSON MEETS THE FORMER OLYMPIAN AND WOMEN’S JAVELIN WORLD RECORD HOLDER, AND HEARS ABOUT HER CAMPAIGN TO SOLVE THE SOCIAL CARE SYSTEM FOR CHILDREN

ImeetFatima Whitbread at a restaurant in Westminster and immediately warm to her kindly down-to-earth manner. Whitbread is one of our best-loved athletes, having won the World Championship in the women’s javelin in 1987, and a former world record-holder in that event.

We sit in a corner and order our food, which prompts reminiscences about Whitbread’s relationship to diet when she was a top athlete: “You are what you eat – for me, when I was a competing athlete I was constantly working three times a day training. Most of my competitors were six foot and I’m 5 foot 3 so my diet had to be right. I was on a diet of about 8,000 calories a day which is a huge amount, usually women are on 2,500-3000.”

But Whitbread’s story isn’t an ordinary one. Her childhood is enough to make you fight back tears. She was abandoned as a child and spent her early life in care. “I was left to die,” she recalls. “A neighbour heard a baby cry and called the police. They rammed the door down and rescued the baby. I spent the next seven months in hospital with malnutrition and nappy rash – I’m pleased to say I’ve recovered from that.”

Whitbread says this matter-of-factly and I find it hard to feel that there is residual trauma: she is serene, and I will come to learn that this has to do with the rare sense of mission she feels about fixing the social care system. “The reason it’s been my ministry is that I was made a Ward of Court by Hackney Borough Council. I spent the next 14

years of my life in children’s homes. These were institutions with large numbers, all run by matrons – and our emotional needs were not really being met.” Whitbread then gives me a heart-

breaking detail: “My first five years were spent in Hertfordshire. I spent a lot of time in the playing room which faced the car park. I remember whenever I saw anyone come in I’d say: ‘Is that my

Fatima Whitbread (Alamy.com)

mummy coming?’ A lot of us children felt that way. Nobody ever really sat me down to discuss things. There was nothing at Christmases - nothing to indicate there was anybody out there for me.”

One day Whitbread’s mother did turn up, when the future World Champion was five years old, and this led to an unspeakable set of events. “That morning I sat in the foyer. There was an opaque glass window and the matron opened the door and a large lady with curly hair came in – but she never looked across to me or made eye contact. Then there was a lady with mousy hair, duffel coat on, smiling and engaging and I thought: ‘That must be my mummy'.” But of course, her mother was the lady with the curly hair: “In all the journey down to the next home in Hertfordshire, I sat in the car and nobody spoke to me. The biological mother never spoke to me. We got to the next home, a small residential place, and I was told to go through to the garden. There was a little girl of four there, and I started playing with her. I was about to go down a slide, and then I felt a hand on me: “You look after your sister otherwise I will cut your throat.’ Those were the first words my biological mother said to me.”

“YOU LOOK AFTER YOUR SISTER OTHERWISE I WILL CUT YOUR THROAT.’ THOSE WERE THE FIRST WORDS MY BIOLOGICAL MOTHER SAID TO ME.”

Another appalling episode occurred when Whitbread, aged nine, was taken out of the home and raped “at knifepoint” by her mother’s then

boyfriend. There seems to be no other word for this than evil. But incredibly, the story has a happy ending. “Sport was my saviour. I was at a netball match and I saw a javelin on the floor and it seemed interesting to me. Then a voice behind me said: ‘I see you looking at that javelin. Would you like me to teach you to throw it?’ This would turn out to be her surrogate mother. “Through that I discovered the love of the Whitbreads,” she recalls.

“THEN A VOICE BEHIND ME SAID: ‘I SEE YOU LOOKING AT THAT JAVELIN. WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO TEACH YOU TO THROW IT?’”

All this amounts to a damning indictment of the social care system as it was in the 1970s, but more worrying than that is that it isn’t necessarily leagues better today. In fact, it seems an issue which governments don’t want to go near. “In many respects it’s the same. I’ve seen governments come and go, and the care system really is broken. It’s not serving the children well.”

To say that Whitbread is a passionate

campaigner is to riot in understatement: throughout our conversation I can sense the intensity with which she used to throw a javelin has been transferred to this admirable mission. She is also, of course, a loving advocate as she knows exactly what she’s talking aboutprecisely what it feels not to have your needs met as a child. Knowing the terror these children are experiencing, she knows the dimensions of love required to fill these gaps. “I’m a great believer that children are our future, and that what they become will define what our society will become.”

So what’s the goal of Fatima's campaign? “I want to build happy lives, better communities, and a better society, and the only way we can do this is with collaborations,” she tells me. “I’ve confirmed a two day summit next year for the 23rd and 24th April at the Guildhall in London. We’re non-political but we do need crossparty support. We want to harness the power of one voice and bring the four nations together. There’s a lot of good work on the ground level but there’s no collaboration.”

The summit will include young people (‘they’re at the forefront of everything’), as well as decision-makers, charities and donors. What Whitbread is aiming at is nothing less than “the rejuvenation of the system” through strategic

partnerships. “I want to bring the private sector in too,” she says with her bright, kindly eyes flashing. “We’re looking at employability initiatives for our young people who are between 18 and 25 year olds to help upskill our young people. Twenty seven per cent of our young people suffer from mental health problems too – and affordable housing is another issue which we need to tackle. The people in the system don’t have Mums, Dads, aunts and uncles to advise them and, appallingly, the government wipes its hands of it. In addition to all this, when they leave the system, 33 per

cent of them in their first two years end up homeless.”

But the forces of darkness likely haven’t reckoned on the astonishing energy of Whitbread. “It’s down to me to use my lived experience and Olympic platform to meet people, to get through doors, and get the campaign together.”

Fatima’s UK campaign is seeking private funding in order to roll out an ambitious scheme across the country. For only £20 a week – which translates to £1000 a year – individuals or companies can sponsor a child in care to take part in weekly activities around technology,

sport or art – according to what the individual’s interests are. “I want to make sure every child has the chance I had to become an Olympic champion. I want to put them on a human path to reaching their potential and their goals. Every child has a right to a safe and happy childhood, but if they do end up in the care system, they need to have a safe, secure pathway to come out of that system, to be educated properly, and to feel secure that there’s a proper foundation for the future. In that way, they can break that cycle and live a proper independent life so that history won’t repeat itself when they have a family. I believe we can manage that: it’s not impossible – in fact it’s very doable.”

Others agree and have pledged their support – especially those in the new Starmer administration. “We have a charity dinner on the first night where Lord John Bird, the founder of The Big Issue will speak. Sir Keir Starmer has pledged his support as have members of his government such as Yvette Cooper. The Timpson family do a lot of work in prisons and they are also on board.”

Prisons are very important to the campaign. “I do a lot prison visits,” Whitbread says. “I want to engage with young people so they have something to go to. That’s half the problem for young people when they come out: there’s nothing to come to. Then they realise they’ve got a warm cell, food and friends inside and it’s a wasted opportunity for life. We have these collaborators but who don’t talk to each other, which is crazy. We’re all in it together.”

Whitbread is one of those rare people who has found a second act in life –and she is pursuing it with the same passion that she did the first. There is a possibility that if we heed her call, we can all hand on a better life to the children of the future.

To learn more go to: fatimascampaign.com

KATIA LUNA BENAÏ

CHRISTOPHER JACKSON MEETS THE CEO OF CONTEMPORARY

OBJET D'ART & BESPOKE COUTURE JEWELLERY BRAND LUNA BENAÏ

QYour grandmother was clearly a very important figure for you –can you talk about your upbringing? Was it an aesthetic culture which laid the groundwork for your future career?

AMy upbringing in Algeria, deeply rooted in my Amazigh heritage, is where my journey as an artist truly began. Although I was born in the UK, I spent my early years living with my grandmother and aunts in Algeria. I was surrounded by a world where every element of life was infused with vibrant colours, patterns, and stories—each one shaping my essence as an artist. The silver jewellery we crafted was more than just adornment; it was history gleaming in every piece, with stones whispering tales of identity. Our tattoos, symbols etched into flesh, represented a tradition now fading, yet they carried deep significance, a connection to our past. Even I carry one of those tattoos, symbolising five generations of women.

The architecture of our region, shaped by influences from the Roman and Ottoman Empires, was another source of inspiration, with arches that seemed to embrace the sky and courtyards that echoed with communal songs. Music, dance, and the act of sharing within the community were integral to our way of life, bonding my soul to the instruments of time and land.

Starting at the age of six, my father’s work led our family to travel all over the globe, exposing me to different cultures and their unique traditions. This early immersion in my heritage, coupled with the diverse experiences from our travels, deepened my fascination with the arts and the stories that connect us all as humans.

These experiences laid the foundation for my work with Luna Benaï, where I strive to create artifacts that not only capture beauty but also tell multi-layered stories rooted in cultural and historical research.

Through Luna Benaï, each piece I create is a tribute to the communities and traditions that inspire it. I am deeply committed to ensuring that our work gives back to these local communities, preserving the very cultures that have shaped my identity and continue to inspire my creative vision.

QYour father was a diplomat – has growing up in lots of different places deepened your sense of commitment to the Amazigh culture?

AMy father was a man of the people, a true polyglot who spoke eight different languages and was an intellectual deeply respected in Algeria. His work with the UN took our family to many places, and each new city or country we visited was embraced with enthusiasm and a deep commitment to understanding the local culture. This passion for learning and cultural exchange was a fundamental part of our family life.

The Amazigh people have historically been diplomatic and open-minded, known for their ability to share cultures and live harmoniously with others throughout the centuries. Although

Katia Luna Benaï

not widely recognised, the Amazigh are indigenous to the Mediterranean region and have played a significant role in history, mythology, and culture, with connections that trace back to ancient Egypt and continue to the present day. Growing up in diverse environments only deepened my commitment to the Amazigh culture. I see it as part of my mission to represent their essence through the arts, bringing their rich heritage to the forefront and ensuring that their stories and traditions are not forgotten but celebrated and shared with the world.

QWere there creative challenges to be surmounted when it came to negotiating any feelings of rootlessness growing up which diplomats’ children often have?

AIt's a bittersweet symphony, indeed. Growing up as a diplomat's child often brings a sense of rootlessness, but with that comes a profound thirst for understanding and a deep compassion for the world around you. The feeling of being displaced at times fuels a desire to connect with others on a more meaningful level, to truly understand the nuances of different cultures and perspectives.

For me, this has been both a challenge and a gift. Art and creativity have become my signature tools for navigating these feelings, allowing me to express the complexities of my experiences and communicate across cultural boundaries. This ever-evolving journey has enriched my work, infusing it with a depth and authenticity that comes from a life lived between worlds.

QHave you had a mentor who gave you the confidence to create?

A

Pursuing my postgraduate studies at the Royal College of Art was a transformative experience that truly pushed my boundaries. The philosophy there of deconstructing everything and then rebuilding it, blending academia, research, and art practice, gave me a profound new perspective on identity

and communication. Being at one of the finest art institutions in the world, I found a space where intellectual freedom was not just encouraged but expected. This environment allowed me to explore and redefine my creative voice, giving me the confidence to push the limits of my artistry and to trust in my vision.

QI’m fascinated by your process. You have said that you want to think about creating things which stand the test of time. How do you go about sifting your inspirations to make sure that it is likely to produce work which has that sort of longevity?

AAt Luna Benaï, we take a vertical approach to creation, guided by the belief that "every object has a story," and those stories must endure through time. To ensure that our work stands the test of time, I collaborate closely with museums, scholars, and architects from the initial concept to the final creation, always prioritising absolute authenticity. My process involves immersing myself

in artifacts that are often 2,000 to 4,000 years old. I fall in love with these pieces and bring them back to life, blending their ancient essence with modern mediums and technology. Through masterful artisanal craftsmanship, honed by decades of experience, we create objects that not only resonate with historical depth but are also built to endure.

By taking history and completing a full circle—much like our logo—I strive to ensure that each piece we produce is timeless, capable of supporting its own story across generations.

“GEOMETRY IS THE VISIBLE MANIFESTATION OF MATH, EMBODYING THEMES OF CONTINUATION AND INFINITY.”

QYour collaboration with Sotheby’s was obviously a wonderful moment in your career. How did you come to think in terms of the rhombicuboctahedron and what does that particular shape mean to you?

AGeometry is the visible manifestation of math, embodying themes of continuation and infinity. When I was commissioned by Tiffany Dubin, a curator at Sotheby’s, to create a bespoke jewellery box for the "Art as Jewellery as Art" exhibition in New York, I wanted to design something that embodied these timeless concepts. The exhibition aimed to reintroduce jewellery and accessories by famed masters of the 20th century and beyond, placing them in a unique juxtaposition with contemporary visionaries and modern artists.

The specific shape of the Atlas Box, a rhombicuboctahedron, was chosen for its symbolic resonance. The rhombicuboctahedron, with its harmonious blend of triangles and squares, represents balance and unity— qualities that are deeply connected to the myth of Atlas, the Titan who bore

the weight of the heavens. Just as Atlas symbolises strength and endurance, the shape reflects the idea of holding together different forces in perfect harmony.

The carvings and metalwork on the Atlas Box are traditional Amazigh designs, merging ancient craftsmanship with a contemporary vision. This fusion of geometry, mythology, and cultural heritage makes the Atlas Box not only a functional object but a piece that tells a story of harmony and timelessness.

QI think it’s wonderful that you give 15 per cent of your earnings to charitable projects. Was that something that you resolved to do from the beginning? How do you go about choosing the causes that you give to?

ACreating synergy with the local community has always been a core value for me, and it's something I resolved to do from the very beginning. When we embark on a project, we actively engage with the local communities, seeking out grassroots causes that create visible, tangible impact. It is important to us that these initiatives are ones we can track, interact with, and even participate in directly.

For instance, with our Sotheby’s piece, we chose to support the UK-based charity Hannan School, which has a genuine and significant impact on improving education for remote communities in the Atlas Mountains. This hands-on approach ensures that our contributions not only make a difference but also align closely with the values and needs of the communities we aim to uplift.

QWhat would you say to young people looking to work in the luxury sector? What do you look for in a hire?

ALook beyond superficiality. If you pursue what you truly love, you will excel, and don’t be afraid to make mistakes—they are an essential part of the learning process. For young people choosing a career path in the luxury sector, I would advise prioritising knowledge and experience over superficial gains. Think long-term and focus on building a solid foundation of skills and understanding across different sectors.

If you eventually decide to embark on your own entrepreneurial journey, believe

in your vision and stay committed to it. Your vision will be tested repeatedly, but perseverance is key. Over time, you’ll start to see the building blocks come together, and that’s when your dedication will truly pay off.

QYou are entering the Middle East market. Can you describe that journey and tell us more about the thinking behind it?

AThe Middle Eastern market is currently undergoing a significant transformation, with new initiatives aimed at diversifying tourism, enhancing arts and culture, and promoting their rich and vibrant heritage. I find this cultural renaissance absolutely captivating, and it's a landscape I can easily immerse myself in.

As a British, French-Algerian artist, I have a deep understanding of both Western and Middle Eastern worlds, which has uniquely positioned me to contribute to this evolving market. This strategic expansion is an exciting chapter for Luna Benaï, and I'm thrilled to be embarking on this journey with my business partner, Denise Ricci. Denise is my right-hand woman—a former Goldman Sachs professional with an incredible background rooted in Italian culture and the film industry. She's a polyglot and a true powerhouse, bringing her diverse expertise to our team.

This cultural renaissance in the Middle East aligns perfectly with our vision as a woman-led team, allowing us to make a powerful impact. Together, Denise and I are committed to deepening our engagement with the region through bespoke cultural and artistic commissions. This expansion represents not just a business opportunity, but a chance to bridge cultures and celebrate the region's rich heritage through the arts.

QWhich cultural figures most inform your aesthetic? Do you find inspiration in other art forms, whether it be literature, film, music or the visual arts?

AI’m a bit of an eccentric, and there isn’t just one figure that drives my inspiration. My aesthetic is informed by a diverse range of cultural figures across history. The artistic legacy of ancient Greek sculptors and the intricate mosaics of Byzantine artisans have always captivated me. In the modern realm, Zaha Hadid’s groundbreaking architectural designs, which challenge conventional forms and spaces, serve as a major inspiration. I’m also deeply influenced by the Bauhaus movement, which revolutionised design with its emphasis on functionality and simplicity, merging art with everyday life. Sonia Delaunay’s bold use of color and geometric abstraction, Hilma af Klint’s exploration of spiritual abstraction, and Dana Awartani’s meticulous blending of cultural traditions with contemporary expression all resonate deeply with me. These varied influences, spanning ancient to contemporary, each contribute to the unique narrative I aim to express through my work.

QWhat are you working on at the moment?

A’We’re entering an incredibly exciting phase at Luna Benaï as we expand into a full-fledged atelier and bespoke design studio. We’ve joined forces with our esteemed Italian partners, Franco Benassi (Faber Mobili) and Diego Chiodelli Bussandri (Chiodelli Arte) ,who bring over four decades of master artisanal experience. This collaboration enhances our ability to work across various mediums, all while preserving the integrity and creative DNA that defines Luna Benaï.

Our first atelier collection, Tessellation, is set to launch this winter. This 11-piece, post-modern inspired collection draws from the rich aesthetics of Middle Eastern and North African design, reimagined through a contemporary monumental lens. Each piece in the collection marries fine art and architecture, making a distinctive statement in the world of interior design and bespoke furniture. Made-to-order, Tessellation seamlessly blends timeless cultural influences with modern innovation. We’re thrilled to introduce this next chapter in our journey, where tradition and cuttingedge design converge.

Visit: www.lunabenai.com

Question of Degree DR. ANDREW SHIELDS

THE CO-CONVENER OF THE TAYLOR SWIFT COURSE AT BASEL UNIVERSITY ON WHY IT’S WORTH STUDYING TAYLOR SWIFT

Popularity and cultural importance are not always attributable to the same artists. Bob Dylan is plainly popular and culturally important; Queen were popular but not necessarily important in quite the same way. Similarly, a whole range of unpleasant people become culturally significant, from Aleister Crowley to a range of unlovely politicians, without being in the least bit liked.

The question of Taylor Swift has partly become so gigantic because there is a growing consensus that she seems to be both. Some are in denial about this: there are still people prepared to say that her phenomenon is somehow the product of a gigantic misunderstanding and that her essential talentlessness will reveal itself in time. But they are in opposition to a growing number of devotees who now include Prince William, Sir Paul McCartney and Hugh Grant.

One thing which happens when you’re culturally important is that the universities begin to take you seriously, as they have long done Dylan, culminating in that Nobel Prize for Literature in 2016. Whether Taylor Swift will one day get the call from Stockholm remains to be seen but the ground is already being prepared. Dr Andrew Shields is the co-course convener for a course in Taylor Swift studies at the University of Basel, and has worked at the university for 29 years. He tells me his journey towards becoming a cerebral Swiftie.

What is it that makes people sceptical as a lyricist of talent arising out of her particular milieu? “If people are treating her as someone who comes from pop, there’s some sort of history to the idea that popular music doesn’t have much going for it in the way of lyrics. But

the actual milieu which Taylor Swift emerged from is country, and that all has to do with storytelling – and storytelling was one of the first things I noticed about her.”

So when did he first hear Swift? “The first song I noticed was when a friend of mine played a cover of it at a gig in Switzerland in 2012. He played ‘We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together”. I didn’t know it was by her but I saw immediately that it had brisk and vividly sketched characters.”

A few years passed until Shields’ next encounter with Swift. “Later on, one of my daughters showed me a video of Swift’s song ‘Mean’. Recently I stumbled on how she said that the grain of sand that catalysed the song was a particularly nasty review of her performance at the Country Music Awards. Later when I stumbled on ‘Blank Space’, I came to understand that she was writing fiction. Even in songs where you think she

may have just sat down and versified her biography, even there, there’s still fictionalisation.”

I ask him if any specific lyric struck him. “In her song called ‘Mine’ there’s this amazing line: ‘You made a rebel of a careless man’s careful daughter’. Today, when Swifties ask me what my favourite line is, which happens a lot, I say I will tell you the song, and you have to guess: they know immediately which line it is.”

So how did the course itself come about?

“By the time Folklore came out I was on the way to being a Swiftie – I like the way that album has much more space. There’s room to think and make the music meander. I also noticed there were many more good lines in that album. When I got the email last year as to what I wanted to teach in the spring, I said maybe Taylor Swift, and then the email came back: 'Great idea.'"

So did Shields and his co-convener Rachael Moorthy need to advertise

Dr. Andrew Shields

the course? “I had to write a course description and that was posted in December in the list of courses.” The interest was immediate. “Some were Swifties who said: ‘This is awesome’. Others came to us and said, ‘I’m not an English student, but can I take it?’ We reached a peak where 180 people had signed up for the course, and we had a room originally for 90.”

The course itself looks at Swift purely from the literary criticism perspective –it doesn’t cover her exceptional business decisions down the years. “People said to me, ‘You’ll be able to explain why she’s such a megastar!’ Well, she writes good texts and that’s an explanation!” Shields says.

So how is the course structured?

“Throughout the semester, we address one album per week, after an introductory session on Swift’s early song ‘Tim McGrath’. That seminar was about rhetoric and ambition, and Rachael spoke about her song ‘The Lakes’ where she described the relationship between that song and the Romantic poets.”

“THROUGHOUT THE SEMESTER, WE ADDRESS ONE ALBUM PER WEEK.”

In one interesting week, Shields landed on perhaps Swift’s most famous song ‘Cruel Summer’. Shields recalls: “I

picked that song because of the line:

‘What doesn’t kill me makes me want you more.’ I ended up talking about aphorism. That’s because Swift is here playing with a Nietzschean aphorism. I then talked about how her texts themselves become aphorisms out of which her fans make new aphorisms by playing with them.”

For Shields, the way in which these songs have entered our collective consciousness and then been toyed with by us all is testament to the quality of the work. “The way the Swifties work with the language shows the quality of her texts – and the quality of her writing does play a role in the sheer scope of her success.”

This scope is indeed extraordinary and at time of writing seems to know no particular bounds. So what will students who take this course go on to do careerswise? “People who study English in Basel often end up as High School teachers,” says Shields, “but I also have a whole bunch of former students, who are journalists. Two of the people who interviewed me this term about the course were former students. Others also go on to fill roles in the HR space. We also have a lot of psychology students take the course who now get the chance to see what it’s like to delve into literary texts as literary scholars to and push beyond and really leave behind the issue that it must be because people can identify it that’s what makes it good.”

Taylor Swift (Wikipedia.org)

Taylor Swift (Wikipedia.org)

HENRY BLOFELD

THE GREAT CRICKET COMMENTATOR PERMITS HIMSELF A MOMENT OF

NOSTALGIA ABOUT HIS UPBRINGING AND THE CRICKET OF HIS YOUTH

At my age, you’re permitted to look back a bit – to think of the circumstances of one’s family and the ways in which the world is changing. A bit of nostalgia never goes amiss when you’re in your eighties as I am. As I do this, I realise it’s the small things which tell you rather a lot. I recall that my father was a great reader aloud which is something which happens less and less today – but if you don’t do that you miss the sound of words, and it’s that which can really connect you to a writer. My father not only had a beautiful voice but was extremely articulate and was really an academic I suppose. Wodehouse was one of those authors he introduced me to between the ages of 10 and 16 – and taking those books close to my heart has shaped my life. It’s dated, of course, but it’s very funny.

Sometimes Wodehouse seems to come near to my own life. There’s a book by Wodehouse, Psmith in the City, which describes an extraordinarily similar path

to my early career. Wodehouse was in the City, and so was I – at a merchant bank called Robert Benson Lonsdale. I was there for three years; Wodehouse, of course, was quietly writing novels during his ordeal. But you could say that both of us were rather out of place and rather eager to leave.

“ONE OF MY HEROES WAS JOHN ARLOTT, AND THAT LED ME INTO AN INTEREST IN THE BATSMAN JACK HOBBS.”

I was very lucky to get into sportswriting. One of my heroes was John Arlott, and that led me into an interest

in the batsman Jack Hobbs. Arlott adored Jack Hobbs – Hobbs could be said to be the greatest batsman ever produced. He played his first test match in Melbourne in 1907, and played his last test in 1930 – the sort of longevity we’ve seen recently in the fast bowler James Anderson. Hobbs and Sutcliffe together were the most extraordinary pair – just as Anderson and Broad were. Hobbs and Sutcliffe even made runs on old-fashioned sticky wickets in Australia. He must have been the most supreme technician and was every bit as good in defence as Geoffrey Boycott –but in attack he lived in another world.

I sometimes hear it said that bowlers used to appeal in somewhat meeker way in the 1940s and 50s. One hears it said that bowlers, seeing a possibility of a leg before wicket decision, would politely enquire of umpires: “How was that?” But this is

Henry Blofeld (Wikipedia.org)

John Arlott (Wikipedia.org)

sometimes exaggerated. I think of lots of photographs of cricket in the old days and they all go up like mad. It might perhaps be that distance may have learned a certain enchantment. Do people really think there was an age in life when bowlers were uncorrupted? I fear not.

And distance lends lustre in lots of ways. WG Grace was an amazing cricketer, of course. In fact he was one of the greats – but not a great man. He comes quite badly out of the chapter in my book in 1882 when he ran out Sammy Jones when for all intents and purposes the ball was dead. That was entirely reprehensible and an appalling thing to do, and it was more appalling in 1882 than it would have been in 1982.

“DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU’VE DONE? YOU’VE RUINED MY AVERAGE!”

Of course, in that year, Botham ran out Geoffrey Boycott – but that was done deliberately as he was sent in in Christchurch. It took Botham two balls and was one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen. He pushed it to the offside

and a lot of sashaying up the pitch, and “Yes-no-wait!” After he was run out, Boycott said: “Do you know what you’ve done? You’ve ruined my average!” I can’t remember what Botham said in return, but it was something very flowery and Boycott withdrew in a sulk.

I am sometimes asked about my surname, since it is used in the Bond novels, and I suspect Ian Fleming thought of it because of me. I knew Fleming a bit, but I didn’t exactly think much of him – and I don’t go to the Bond films to see my family name written in lights. Fleming and I were elected to Boodle’s on the same day; I had dinner with him and my first wife in Jamaica, when I was 22. I was quite young to be meeting such well-known people. I suppose that did make me more confident later on.

And confidence would come in handy in my career. In the early days of broadcasting, doing reports of county matches, stopwatch in hand – that was a very hairy business and to do that one had to have a certain confidence.

Sometimes one had to commentate in rather bizarre situations. I can also remember sitting on a sack of sawdust in the groundman’s office at Sydney at the back of the Noble stand without

any windows at all, doing a report for Sport on Four. I can also recall doing reporting on a total eclipse of the sun from Bombay – not to mention reporting on the riots in Lahore during the 1977 Test Match. It was nothing if not varied.

“I CAN SEE THE POINT OF ONE DAY CRICKET IN THE SAME WAY I CAN SEE THE POINT OF INSTANT COFFEE – WHICH I FIND QUITE UNDRINKABLE.”

I do wonder about the future of the sport. I can see the point of One Day Cricket in the same way I can see the point of instant coffee – which I find quite undrinkable. One Day Cricket was introduced as a financial palliative, and it’s not ideal in my view. Perhaps one day we’ll have the ultimate cricket match where each side will have one ball, bowled in front of 100,000 people. I wonder what WG Grace and John Arlott would make of that – and PG Wodehouse for that matter.

Jack Hobbs (Wikipedia.org)

Ian Fleming (Wikipedia.org)

Ian Botham (Wikipedia.org)

Ten Thousand Hours HARRY HYMAN

GEORGE ACHEBE INTERVIEWS THE PHILANTHROPIST, PUBLISHER AND ENTREPRENEUR ABOUT HIS VARIED AND EXTRAORDINARY CAREER

Imeet the entrepreneur and publisher Harry Hyman in his offices on Haymarket. He is ensconced in a corner office surrounded by John Piper prints and art which speaks to his love of theatre. Hyman has had an interesting life, succeeding in both the healthcare and publishing sectors. I am keen to know how it all began and ask him about his upbringing: “My parents both came from an immigrant background,” he tells me. “My father’s family came from Eastern Europe between 1890 and 1900. One lot came from what was then Belarus and the other lot came from what is now Poland but both I think then were under the Soviet influence. They probably wanted to get to New York, but they ended up in London by mistake, or because they didn’t have enough money to get there.”

And on his mother’s side? “She was Anglo-Indian – and that meant nobody liking you, neither the Indians nor the British. People didn’t have very much money and so I think they were both very keen for people to do well and education was a very important part

of that. It was drilled into you that education was vital.” He laughs: “I still believe that one of the few things that Tony Blair actually said that was probably right is: ‘Education, education, education’.”

And how was Hyman’s education? “I knuckled down and did very well. I went to Cambridge, and graduated there with a first class degree in geography. I stayed for one year to think about doing a PhD but felt that wasn’t for me: it was too specialist and not very exciting. It’s a weird thing that when you study geography the more you go into a particular area it becomes like another subject: so for a physical geographer you almost become a geologist; a bio geographer becomes almost a biologist; an economic geographer becomes almost an economist; and a historical geographer becomes almost a historian.”

But the year was 1979 and Thatcher was on the rise. Hyman intuited the enormity of the shift, and decided to enter the business world at perhaps one of the most opportune times in history: “I went off to Price Waterhouse and followed this quite conventional route of becoming a chartered accountant which I did very well at and I enjoyed my three and a half years there,” he recalls.

However things were about to change for Hyman, as so often happens, due to his meeting the right person at the right time. “I met this really entrepreneurial dynamic financier called Michael Goddard who worked at a business called Baltic plc and I had 11 very enjoyable hard-working years where I learned a lot about

finance and about business and about negotiation but it instilled in me a desire to do my own thing.” Around that time Hyman had also begun to take an interest in healthcare. “I got very interested in health, and was interested to take the techniques of asset finance and structured finance, which was what Baltic specialised in, and apply that to different parts of the public sector which had been starved of capital because the Treasury controlled the purse strings.” Hyman saw that Thatcher’s administration was serious about shaking things up: “Norman Lamont introduced the Private Finance Initiative and I thought that was quite an interesting turning point; it was an opportunity for the government to form partnerships with the private sector to invest in infrastructure.”

It was to be a huge success. Hyman left Baltic in 1994 to start his own company Nexus. This business set up Primary Health Properties; Hyman would manage it for 27 years, and only stopped being CEO in April 2023.

When Hyman set up the healthcare business was he partnering with government from day one? “I got very interested in the fact that GPs, although they are independent contractors, have a contract with the NHS: as part of that they get their rent reimbursed to them by the NHS and of course the NHS is part of the British government. Therefore from an investor’s standpoint although your tenant is actually a group of GPs, the payor of the rent is actually the NHS which is the government: so you have a gilt-edged income stream even though your tenant is just a group of professionals.”

Harry Hyman (Wikipedia.og)

For Hyman, this was a clear opportunity: “I saw that there was what I would call a yield and covenant arbitrage there and so set up the business to take advantage of that and to act as a funnel of capital back in, in order to modernise the NHS. Even today, 40 per cent of all primary care premises in the country are substandard and you are seeing a paradigm shift effectively away from an oldfashioned converted house where you had your polio jab on a sugar cube with a single handed GP giving it to you into a much more modern medical centre.” The beauty is that these centres are much more modern and contain ‘a raft of ancillary services’. This is, of course, also in the interests of the doctors. “They don’t want to take on the capital burden of providing a £9 or £10 million building: they are quite happy for a third party landlord like Primary Health Properties to be that partner and now our portfolio is around £2.8 billion: we have 514 centres, of which 21 are in Ireland and it’s a very interesting and safe and secure business model.”

It sounds it, and the success of the venture has enabled Hyman to diversify into publishing. “Here at Nexus we publish B2B magazines and we run events around them. Our titles are Health Investor, Education Investor, Caring Times, Nursery Management, and today we have got a small publication called Nutrition Investor and we have Independent Schools Management. The theme of those is very much health and education. Property, health and education has been my raison d’etre for the past 30 years.”

I say that publishing is a difficult sector compared with healthcare property. Why put himself through the stress? “The original reason is because I couldn’t find anything I wanted to read and so Health Investor is a B2B magazine focused on investors that are providing contracted out services to the NHS. It’s basically an events

business. You obviously have to have content. I don’t think you can run the events without titles but as you know we’ve moved from a non-digital basis to a digital basis and people will pay for high quality content but it is quite hard on a lot of businesses who have really struggled with that.”

And what does Hyman think of the new Labour government? “I think there’ll be a resetting of the clock, and that will allow someone to have a slightly longer timescale. I think Covid and the political contortions of late have given governments quite a short term time horizon which is not very good in terms of ensuring that infrastructure goes in to the built environment.”

But that doesn’t mean that Hyman agrees with Labour, especially when it comes to its commitment to impose VAT on private school fees. “Will that apply to early years? Will it apply to all sorts of education? Will it apply to university tuition? Is it going to be five, eight, ten, or 20 per cent? How is that going to work? It sounds like a great manifesto commitment but I wouldn’t be at all surprised if it never got legislated for because it will push much more demand back into the state sector which is hard pressed anyway. In France everyone goes to a state school as I understand it. You are then talking about a wholesale system change.”

Hyman’s success has allowed him time for his passions, chiefly opera. He founded the International Opera Awards in 2012, with a view to helping the sector. What was it that drew him to classical music? “They are quite profound stories. The topics in Shakespeare are enduring and unfortunately people think it’s all DJ toffs walking round Glyndebourne. Most opera houses go out of their way to try and encourage a younger generation of opera goers otherwise the whole audience will be dead in 10 or 15 years’ time.”

The problem is that television has encroached on the economics of live performance, so it’s not an easy sector in which to pay the bills. “My shtick is to try and encourage younger people to make the grade from music college through to a proper career in opera whether they be singers, directors, musicians, or conductors – but it’s tough. Last year we gave out £100,000 worth of bursaries to 20 people: it’s not that enormous a sum of money but can make the difference between someone stopping their career and carrying on.”

The plight of even the most talented musicians is an extremely difficult one. “You go to music school and then you get your music qualification – but then you have to make it as an artist and that will require you to sing in a chorus or hope to get spotted and get a supporting role. That in itself is difficult – and if you are not from a less well-off background or if you are an overseas person, it’s even harder. We have supported some Ukrainian people who have the right to be here as a student but they don’t have the right to work.”

This interest brings him full circle back to his parents. “They were very interested in opera. I first went in 1984, and it has been a journey since. I like Wagner: his music is absolutely sensational and the stories he writes about are primeval almost. The Ring is very profound isn’t it? It’s about man’s quest for money and power and ends in disaster. They all end up regretting having it but it’s this lust that drives them.” And with that, I head back out onto Haymarket, reflecting that it’s not often you talk about Wagner and the private finance initiative in the same conversation – but Hyman is an interesting man with a broad frame of reference.

To learn more about the International Opera Awards go to www.operaawards.org

Tomorrow’s Leaders DIANA TAYLOR

Diana Taylor graduated with an M.F.A Painting from the Slade School of Fine Art in 2010. She studied B.A (Hons) Fine Art at Bath Spa University College and graduated in 1999. In 2011 she was awarded the Abbey Scholarship in Painting at the British School at Rome. Residencies in 2011 and 2012 include Centre of Contemporary Arts, Andratx, Mallorca and East London Printmakers. A sense of journey, both physically and through memory, and the relation this has with mass-produced images, which travel our own consciousness, are central to her practice. We caught up with her at her new exhibition ‘Borrowed Time’. at Bobinska Brownlee New River

I really love the new stuff. How did these paintings come about?

The new paintings began with Gustav Dore’s illustrations of Dante’s Divine Comedy. The illustrations were made in the 19th century as woodblock prints and the Divine Comedy was written in the 14th century. The book I chose the images from was published in the 1970s and my manipulations from analogue to digital were made this year so there’s oscillation between temporalities within my work. I selected small areas of several illustrations and manipulated them within Photoshop by cropping, enlarging and lowering the resolution. I also turned the document into bit map format to screen-print them. I always enlarge the images in screen-printing too so the image is reduced in quality even further. So, what was a woodblock print has gone through a digital process into a mechanical method of screenprinting and that’s how the paintings usually begin. There are varying levels of detail and zooming in for those images.

So there’s a digital element and then you set to work as a painter?

I then began painting imagery from my various illustrated books of plants and botanical illustrations some of which were important to Morris’s archive- a 16th-century Gerard’s Herbal. From my PhD research on William Morris I’ve become increasingly interested in the botanical illustrations that he was using, but I also have a real love for early print and that’s why I refer to it often within my work. My love of gardening and my interest in plants as therapeutic and

medicinal has steered these new works. However, there’s also a more serious concern with climate change, and the idea of plants growing and becoming threatened, or in decline, started mirroring my painting process which is one of building up and breaking down the image. These new paintings in my solo show at Bobinska Brownlee gallery, ‘Borrowed Time’, therefore, are about the things that I am thinking about, looking at and doing in my everyday life- which is what my paintings are generally about anyway. The title refers to concerns in a climate crisis and also to

my method of appropriation- borrowing images which already exist, to create new works.

Has your method of composition been relatively fixed and stable over your career, or is that evolving?

My method of composition tends to change however over the past 10 years I’d say I’ve been very much focused on using a portrait format and working on a similar size and often it’s because I want to have some kind of composition which involves cascading, a kind of cascade down the painting and alludes to the idea of something falling and things falling apart. The composition is not fixed. However, I always use fragments within my work and I’m interested in the composition as appearing unfinished. There’s something about the tension between something that’s finished and unfinished, that interests me, so the work oscillates between many dichotomies such as fast and slow painting, graphic and gesture, old and new references, art and craft et cetera yet these binaries are always symbiotic which is why I’ve converged them because they need to be together.

Was it always art for you? Did you ever consider some other path in life?

Yes, it was always painting for me. My granny was a painter and I always loved drawing and painting. There was never any question that I wanted to do

something else, although at one stage I wanted to be an air hostess just because I love travelling so much. But I realised I could travel and do my painting and I could be an artist, and make money from selling my work and teaching, which is something I also enjoy.

Did you have any mentor in art?

I had several brilliant art teachers throughout my education who have inspired me and taught me so much. I think that’s why I love teaching so much, because I want to be able to give back what I also experienced in my educational journey.

Who are your heroes in art history who have helped you on your journey?

I think my heroes in art history include Bernini whose work blew me away in Rome. But, in modern history, I love Sigma Polke, Robert Rauschenberg, Lee Krasner, Eduardo Paolozzi, and many others. Contemporary painters I love are Amy Sillman, (I love her writing too), as well as Michael Williams, Charlene Von Heyl and Christopher Wool amongst a load of others.

What are your tips for young artists about the business side?

I’d say for young artists it’s just important to stay focused on being true to yourself and not getting caught up in any trends. You kind of have to be thick-skinned and resilient as an artist

and to stay resolute. I find a strong daily meditation practice has helped me to stay resilient and grounded as it can be so difficult to persevere when it seems at times like not much is happening in your career.

Galleries seem to take large percentages from artists – is that something you think will change over time?

I don’t think the 50% commission is likely to change although I’ve no idea really on this aspect of the art world- as long as the Gallery can continue to put on ambitious exhibitions and bring their collectors to the shows then it’s a really good way for an artist to get exposure.

What’s your experience of art fairs?

As a visitor to art fairs, I find them quite overwhelming as there’s so much work to see. I do visit some of the bigger fairs such as Frieze so they’re understandably overwhelming. But it’s a good way to get an idea of what’s going on globally in the art world. That said it’s an odd way of looking at art because you’re hardly even giving the work any time at all. It’s just a glance and then moving on to the next thing.

Has the conversation around NFTs affected you at all, or do you think that was just a fad?

I’m not that interested in NFTs. Although I think they could be good for some artists I have zero interest in turning my work into an NFT. I think something is lost in the reproduction of a painting or work that has a haptic quality like my textiles- it’s the aura that Walter Benjamin spoke of, so an NFT for me is kind of dead and it kills the work of the hand. However, I’m sure there’s some really interesting work out there that I haven’t seen so we’ll see how far it goes.

Borrowed Time ran from 18th April-5th June at Bobinska Brownlee New River. For more information go to: www.dianataylor.co.uk

Those

Are My Principles MARJORIE NEASHAM GLASGOW

THE RIDGE CLEAN ENERGY CEO EXPLAINS HOW THE UK CAN BECOME A LEADER ON RENEWABLES

The UK can yet become a global leader in renewables innovation, enabling a rollout of onshore projects that make environmental and financial sense amid a world without consensus on climate change.

In fact, the UK is making more progress than many think in the transition to a more renewables-based energy sector. For the first time ever, renewables accounted for more than 40% of total UK electricity demand in the second half of 2023. Analyses by Drax Electric Insights showed that in the 12 months leading into October 2023, coal supplied less than 1% of the UK’s electricity use for the first time.

The UK is also the first major economy to cut its emissions by half since 1990,

compared to the EU, who have cut emissions by 30%, the US not at all, while China’s emissions are up by 300% according to UK Government figures.

jobs in the UK are green jobs, defined by the Office for National Statistics as ‘employment in an activity that contributes to protecting or restoring the environment, including those that mitigate or adapt to climate change’. The ONS indicates employment in green jobs in 2020 was 526,000 FTE; compared with 507,000 FTE in 2015. Recent PwC data indicates that 2.2% of new UK jobs are classified as ‘green,’ with green jobs growing four times faster than jobs in the wider UK market. And research by the UCL Institute for Sustainable Resources indicates UK green jobs could increased by 150,000 by 2030.

“IMPERIAL

COLLEGE RESEARCH

FINDS THAT AIR POLLUTION IS THE LARGEST SINGLE ENVIRONMENTAL RISK FACTOR IN THE UK.”

Yet, while the data shows we are making progress, we are still some way off bringing communities on board with the transition. To deliver on decarbonisation, we don’t just need political will and investment. We need to win over hearts and minds.

Further, a growing proportion of new

Many people see the value and importance of transitioning to renewable energy. For instance, they are aware that producing and burning fossil fuels creates air pollution that

Marjorie Neasham Glasgow

harms our health and generates toxic emissions that drive climate change, as Harvard University research has found. Imperial College research finds that air pollution is the largest single environmental risk factor in the UK, associated with the premature deaths of 28,000-36,000 people each year and affecting the poorest in society the most. The transition to renewable energy will address these health concerns.

However, people understandably also want to know what tangible economic, cultural and social benefits the transition will bring to their daily lives and their communities. Right now, the renewables industry is struggling to convince people that we can genuinely deliver a green energy transition with respect for landscapes, livelihoods and heritage.

In my 30 years in this sector, I have learned that trust is the cornerstone for driving meaningful change in the renewable industry. Without communities onboard, in a way that engages them based on their local needs, concerns and aspirations, it is difficult to develop the trust that is so vital to seizing the opportunities in front of the UK.

Trust fosters collaboration, ensuring that local needs, concerns, and aspirations are addressed. This engagement not only facilitates smoother project implementation but also enhances public support and acceptance.

Trust can only be developed gradually through relationships between real people, not corporate language or platitudes. This process takes time –there are no shortcuts. A recent King’s College London study found that 98% of the UK population say they trust people they know personally – joint top out of 24 countries with Sweden and Norway – showing that trust can only be built through relationships between real people rather than

conglomerates and brands.

For responsible developers, months if not years of investment in community relations are necessary to understand who they are and what they care about. Consultation processes must not be tick-box exercises. They must be proactive and truly collaborative, with developers actively approaching community members at the onset of every project.

Developers need to demonstrate to local communities that a green energy transition is worthwhile for them socially, culturally and economically as well as being sustainable. Communities must be consulted and allowed to shape projects from the start, considering the potential impacts on their lives.

That includes listening and learning about their specific needs as well as generating local jobs and creating cleaner, more sustainable energy sources. Developers have so many assets and areas of expertise they can offer communities, should both sides be open to a genuine, real relationship. At Ridge Clean Energy we look beyond our renewable energy projects when partnering with local communities, and use our resources and expertise to advance community initiatives that are important to them.

In some cases, communities may seek investment for local initiatives that are not at all directly related to energy. That doesn’t preclude a developer from helping, they just need to think creatively. For example, we recently lent our fundraising and development expertise to one community in Scotland that wanted help to restore its much-loved local pier, an important point of cultural pride (the Inveraray Pier in Loch Fyne).

We are also in the process of establishing a Climate Awards scheme for schools in the vicinity of our projects, to help contribute to their

academic growth and foster a sense of ownership and responsibility towards their community and the planet.

“TRUST IS LIKE THE AIR WE BREATHE. WHEN IT’S PRESENT NOBODY REALLY NOTICES. BUT WHEN IT’S ABSENT, EVERYONE NOTICES.”

American investor and philanthropist Warren Buffett once said ‘trust is like the air we breathe. When it’s present nobody really notices. But when it’s absent, everyone notices.’ As we navigate the complexities of the green energy transition, trust cannot simply be a buzzword. There is a profound importance to fostering genuine long-term trust among communities. Developers must acknowledge that will only happen through real actions, not just words, one genuine relationship at a time.

LONDON’S LUXURY ELITE AT THE RESIDENCE OF THE JORDANIAN AMBASSADOR HIS EXCELLENCY MANAR DABBAS

FINITO WORLD REPORTS ON A REMARKABLE EVENING WHERE NEW OPPORTUNITIES OPENED FOR COOPERATION BETWEEN THE UK AND JORDAN

It was the writer of the book of Hebrews who explained the importance of hospitality: “Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.” This important lesson has not been lost on His Excellency Manar Dabbas, who at an event cohosted with Finito at his residence in West London, proved himself the perfect host.

There is no shadow of a doubt that hospitality was the key theme during the event that His Excellency Ambassador Manar Dabbas co-hosted with Finito at his residence in West London. In fact if hosting is an art,

then it might be that all the time masterpieces are being created at the Jordanian Residence. The event was attended by a group of exceptional individuals from the luxury sector including CEOs and leaders from brands as varied as Fabergé, Trevor Pickett, Kiki McDonough, the Design Centre Chelsea, Almacantar, D.R. Harris, Hirsh London and David Morris Jewels. Rounding off the guest list, there was Guy Martin from Carter-Ruck, Kamal Rahman from Mishcon de Reya, the CEO of Coutts, Mohammed Kamal Syed and revered aviation leader David Scowsill.

Speaking in his home, the Ambassador

began with a broad welcome, and made it clear that Jordan is very much open for investment – and eager to receive visitors: “It’s one thing to hear about Jordan while we’re sitting here in London, but it’s quite another to go and see for yourself,” he said, as everybody mentally consulted their diaries.

However, given all that is going on in Gaza, it was necessary to reference the catastrophic and dangerous situation in the region. The Ambassador explained Jordan’s positions and its vision to bring about lasting and comprehensive peace and security. This amounted to a moving call

Manar Dabbas and Ronel Lehmann

for peace. The Ambassador spoke throughout with a genuine sense of the sadness of the situation, always with the understanding that these matters are extremely complex and require our best efforts to find ways towards resolution.

“DABBAS SPOKE WITH INFECTIOUS LOVE ABOUT JORDAN, GIVING REAL INSIGHT INTO WHAT MAKES HIS COUNTRY SO SPECIAL.”

For Dabbas, that work is going on in London. “I am focused on promoting Jordan as a business destination for different people – I am talking to all possible interested investors, from different backgrounds.”

His Excellency went onto say that Britain faces a stark choice when it comes to the geopolitical conflicts in the Middle-East. “You can work with us and pre-empt and avoid, or wait until it explodes in our face and then react,” he warned.

Dabbas spoke with infectious love

about Jordan, giving real insight into what makes his country so special. He discussed the tourism sector, and also surprised guests by telling us that The Martian, Aladdin and Dune were shot in Jordan – as indeed was the classic Lawrence of Arabia . “There are a lot of opportunities,” he said, as the superb Jordanian food materialised before the guests. “What’s missing sometimes is we’re not promoting as much of what we do in Jordan. We don’t have natural resources, but we have topnotch human capital. When it comes to IT labour, for instance, for a lot of British companies who want to move away from the political complexities in other destinations and benefiting from highly skilled, yet low-cost labour, Jordan is the best solution.”

“CRAFTSMANSHIP IS WHAT JORDAN IS GOOD AT – YOU MUST COME AND VISIT AND HAVE FUN.”

Trevor Pickett asked if Jordan was easy to partner with, and whether the country hosts trade fairs as Turkey famously does. “Craftsmanship is what Jordan is good at – you must come and

visit and have fun,” His Excellency replied. “We have fairs and they're fairly big. Come and see for yourself: you can make your decision according to your business models.”

The Ambassador was also asked what the benefits are of doing business in his country: “Jordan is not just Jordan; it is the gateway to other countries. It is a regional hub. Jordan is the most moderate and forward-thinking country in the region.”

“WHEN YOU

SAY JORDAN, PEOPLE SMILE – OTHER COUNTRIES, PEOPLE DON’T.”

Mishcon de Reya partner Kemal Raman asked how the country manages to cultivate neutrality, and what can be learned from its extremely positive international reputation.

“When you say Jordan, people smile – other countries, people don’t,” she observed. “I couldn’t agree more,” replied the Ambassador. “The respect His Majesty the King has across the world is unmatched. This respect is not gained over night. It is the product of wise leadership by the Hashemites. When His Majesty speaks, everyone listens. We pride ourselves on our royal family.””

And how is it that this reputation is so secure? “Legitimacy is an aspect. Credibility is another. We have always been true to everyone. What we say in private is the same as what we say in public. Wherever I go, If I mention King Abdullah II bin Al-Hussein they say how much they love him! You rarely see a monarch who has such a level of daily engagement with his people. This is what defines us.”

His Excellency was also asked about the nature of the role he has. “When I first arrived here I realised I had

Manar Dabbas, Ronel Lehmann, Chris Jackson and Julia Carrick

From left to right: David Scowsill, Rachel Moore, Manar Dabbas and Diane Hirsh

From left to right: Manar Dabbas, Kiki McDonough, Antony Lindsay and Louise De Turckheim

to understand the importance of the parliamentary system. It is quite a big job in itself: you have over 600 MPs and over 800 Lords – the challenge is how do you manage to see each and every one of these? Even if I do meetings on a daily basis, I wouldn’t be able to get through them all!”

In addition to that His Excellency engages regularly with the government: “It is challenging to be able to reach as many policy-makers as possible and explain why the Middle East is important, let alone Jordan. Then I have to engage with media and think tanks.”

It is difficult, he says, to plan his diary. “I receive probably 20 invitations per day. That can be a little confusing –sometimes you have to do everything to decide whether it’s something you would go to for the second time or not! You have to be on top of your form to influence policy.”

So what would His Excellency say to young people considering a career in the civil service? “I have many meetings with university students,” Dabbas explained. “I tell them that I knew I wanted to pursue politics from a very young age. I also tell them to follow their passion – but it’s always possible to have that without the capability. Sometimes it can be the other way round – you need to have both.”

This was sound advice – and it was issued to a roomful of people who had followed theirs, and who went out into the Kensington night, happy that their own decisions in life had led them into the company of such a remarkable man.

From left to right: Mohammad Kamal Syed, Former Chief Executive Officer, Coutts, Julian Moore Managing Director D.R. Harris in the middle and Manar Dabbas

With Kamal Rahman

With Guy Martin

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The New Yorker once wrote that Taylor Swift has ‘the pretty, but not aggressively sexy, look of a nineteen-thirties movie siren’. But perhaps most notable is how it has changed over the years: to look at her is to try to gauge what the white skin and essentially kind eyes really do look like when set against all the confusions created by her ubiquity. To look at her – even on the TV screen – is to look at fame on a scale which is very rarely attained. This is the perennial camouflage of celebrity – all that we think we know about her has come to us second-hand, and it’s misleading because a person is not an aggregation of what has been said about her. A person is an accumulation of raw experience: the camera cannot capture that – it keeps removing us from the lived actual.

On the other hand, Taylor Swift’s success is partly due to her ability to communicate through contemporary media. She has become so well-known really due to the authenticity of joy – or at least the authentic search for it. “Happiness isn’t a constant,” she has said. “You get fleeting glimpses. You have to fight for those moments, but they make it all worth it.” The impression one has of Swift is of someone increasingly adept at that search – precisely because she knows that it isn’t only to do with what one attains for oneself but what one can return back into the world.

Swift seems to me to represent some new need – or rather a new way in which an old need has been answered when no other public figure, and especially not our politicians, has been able to answer it. At her core is a commitment to kindness, and this, through her songs – but at least as importantly by her deeds – has become catching. It has created a movement around what some clever people might deride as a cliché. Of course, she swears (“Fuck it, if I can’t have him” she sings on ‘Down Bad’ in her latest album), and

issues the occasional diss track – but really her generosity as a performer, as a famous person and as a philanthropist is the leitmotif which runs through all she does. This anchors her. How many people are actually good at being famous in the way that Taylor Swift is good at it? Very few can accept it with any degree of balance and humility – and it is vanishingly rare to find a celebrity establishing a sane identity. It was Marilynne Robinson who observed of her friend Barack Obama – one of the few people, along with the tennis-player Roger Federer to seem as comfortable with fame as Swift is – that he showed ‘tremendous alertness as to what the moment may require of him.”

As one watches Swift on her Eras Tour, one senses something similar in play – a hypersensitivity to what her audience needs from her, and a willingness and an ability to supply it. It is a question of an optimistic and accommodating attitude on a scale hard to imagine. “My fans don’t feel like I hold anything back from them. They know whatever I'm going through now, they'll hear about it on a record someday,” she has explained, but it is more than that – she has embarked on a life which is more relentlessly public than anyone I can think of. Her life is the community she has created through her music.

“YOU REALISE THE BAD GUY IS NOT WEARING A BLACK CAPE AND HE'S NOT EASY TO SPOT; HE'S REALLY FUNNY, AND HE MAKES YOU LAUGH, AND HE HAS PERFECT HAIR.”

Consider this quote, in which she shares her experience with her fans: “When I

was a little girl I used to read fairy tales. In fairy tales you meet Prince Charming and he’s everything you ever wanted. In fairy tales the bad guy is very easy to spot. The bad guy is always wearing a black cape so you always know who he is. Then you grow up and you realise that Prince Charming is not as easy to find as you thought. You realise the bad guy is not wearing a black cape and he's not easy to spot; he's really funny, and he makes you laugh, and he has perfect hair.”

This is a beautifully articulated observation about the distance between fairytale and life, and I think there’s no doubt why she’s making it: it’s because she doesn’t want others to suffer. She cares.

Her work can be seen as a working through of this difficulty – even its dramatisation. We enter a world which feels at first insufficiently signed, and we must learn to discover what things are like: art is a way of coming into knowledge about this. Taylor Swift’s songs are about this journey, and she has described with a mining obsession. She is one of those writers who isn’t content to skim her topic; she delves.

Even so her fame has made it difficult to discern what drives her as a songwriter. The course convener for the Taylor Swift course at Basel University Dr Andrew Shields says in our Question of Degree in this issue that many people misunderstand the essential genesis of Swift’s work: ”When I stumbled on ‘Blank Space’, I came to understand that she was writing fiction. Even in songs where you think she may have just sat down and versified her biography, even there, there’s still fictionalisation,” he explains.

Shields argues that we have difficulty in placing Swift, since she comes out of the country milieu but has crossed over into pop. Shields compares her to Adele: “Around the time I first got into Taylor Swift, I also bought my daughters the albums 21 and 25 by Adele. I took them

to the gym and everything about those albums is about excellence. The voice is excellent. The framing of the voice in the mix is superb. Her articulation in the mix is superb. Her articulation is fantastic. She also writes harmonically and melodically richer stuff than Swift does.”

I feel a ‘but’ coming and indeed it does come. “But the lyrics sound like they’re just scribbled down stuff. Adele is working in studios with some of the best people in the world, and that is what makes her successful along with her incredible voice, but apparently they don’t need to have decent lyrics. ‘Hello’, for example, is an incoherent text.”

This, says Shields, is what makes Swift so special: “Swift tells stories: she has characters, and she has wit.” For Shields, Folklore, which landed at the start of the pandemic, is the breakthrough album. “Until that album, I’d find listening to more than an album’s worth at a time a little too much, but there’s more room in Folklore.”

Like Dylan’s ‘Murder Most Foul’, Folklore arrived to console us at a time none of us shall forget: it is part of that historical moment.

When one sees Paul McCartney at the Eras tour, we are reminded that he likely wouldn’t be there if he didn’t think the performer on stage were a songwriter:

and of all people he should know. McCartney’s attendance was especially interesting since he is one of the few people alive today who know what this kind of fame is like.

As Swift swung through London, emitting minor earthquakes at the biggest venues in the country, her physical presence in one’s general vicinity wasn’t something possible to ignore even if one were inclined to do so.

“I REMEMBER LAST YEAR, EARLY IN THE TOUR IT RAINED THROUGH MANY OF THE EARLY PERFORMANCES, AND SHE CARRIED ON SINGING HER ENTIRE TRACK LIST COMPLETELY UNBOTHERED BY IT.”

The evidence is that Swift is capable of getting to more or less anybody capable of being got to. One is Angelina Giovani, who describes for me the scenes in London at Wembley Stadium. What was it that turned her into a Swiftie? “I am not on original, die hard Swiftie, to be honest,” she replies, though her eyes are shining slightly at the mention of Swift’s name. “I first started paying attention to her when she started re-recording her old albums so she could own them. I thought that was very brave and very smart. But what really brought her into my radar was the Eras tour. I remember last year, early in the tour it rained through many of the early performances, and she carried on singing her entire track list completely unbothered by it. She did the same in the Brazil, where the heat was

insufferable and she managed to keep performing, while visibly struggling with her breathing between songs. I was very impressed by the endurance and commitment.”

This is something which one can easily miss: her professionalism, which is such a fait accompli now that one can easily underestimate the effort which went into its acquisition. Up there onstage during the Eras tour, one can see, behind the theatre of it all, the sheer extent of her determination: a work ethic which again is hard to think of having been matched in pop since McCartney. We see in the marvellous Peter Jackson film Get Back how for every song that each of the other band members were writing, McCartney was writing ten and it ended up being too much for the rest of the band to cope with. Swift is a little like this, issuing earlier this year not the expected album, but a double album in the shape of The Tortured Poets Department: the impression is of hyperactivity, and an energy going in all directions – into her music videos, and indeed into her every move. She is an

advert for superior planning – and for doing things for the right reason.

But predominantly, nowadays it is going into her Eras show, which treats each of her albums as an epoch to be explored and re-enacted. It was the late great Tony Bennett who said in relation to Amy Winehouse that no jazz singer likes to see 90,000 people staring back at her. Swift doesn’t seem to mind that at all.

The author of the best book about Swift is The Secret Critic who speaks to me over email in order to retain his or her anonymity. His book Taylor Swift: The Anatomy of Fame is like no other: a tour de force of literary criticism, which addresses the Swift phenomenon in highly original terms. The author tells me: “Swift can’t sing like Winehouse –which is no shame, as she was a one-off – but the quote is a reminder that large stadiums are a problem to be solved. The only person really to solve it before Swift was Freddie Mercury – and I occasionally see Swift deploying gestures at the piano which remind me a little

of him, tipping her whole body back theatrically. Mercury knew that these arenas require exaggerated gestures –and Swift knows this too.”

“WHAT’S UNIQUE IS THAT SHE DOES IT THROUGH RESPECT, HUMILITY, AND AN EARNED FAMILIARITY.”

For the Secret Critic, it is also a question of intimacy: “Mercury also understood that the only way to make the space smaller is to connect intimately with the people in it as he did with his famous ‘Day-dos!” So how does Swift do it? “What’s unique is that she does it through respect, humility, and an earned familiarity. She couldn’t play these venues if she’d ever put a foot wrong in displaying respect towards her audience; the act simply wouldn’t work if she had ever done that. It is this peculiar bond between her and her

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audience which enables her to handle these enormous audiences. There has never been anything like this – by comparison, Mercury looks remote from his audience. There was no Queen community in quite the same way that there’s a Swift community.”

For me, the Eras show works partly due to its choreography where Swift accepts a central role while also sharing it with others. Again, in compiling the show she is able to borrow from her own hard work in her music videos, which she has always controlled. Some of her costumes are now on display in the Victoria & Albert Museum. Kate Bailey, Senior Curator, Theatre & Performance, says: “We are delighted to be able to display a range of iconic looks worn by Taylor Swift at the V&A this summer. Each celebrating a chapter in the artist’s musical journey.”

“TAYLOR SWIFT’S SONGS LIKE OBJECTS TELL STORIES, OFTEN DRAWING FROM ART, HISTORY AND LITERATURE.”

And what is the idea behind the show?

“Taylor Swift’s songs like objects tell stories, often drawing from art, history and literature. We hope this theatrical trail across the museum will inspire curious visitors to discover more about the performer, her creativity and V&A objects.”

These outfits, above all, always make one think, for the simple reason that there is never any doubt that a considerable amount of thought has gone into their creation. It is all of a piece with someone who won’t leave anything to chance. The looks that she has produced each speak to a particular mood; her albums represent self-contained aesthetics, which is part of what makes the Eras tour viable at all. Here is Swift,

gloriously rainbow-coloured during her Lover era, cabin chic during Folklore, and suitably red during the Red era.

Angelina Giovani explains that even making her way to the concert was an eye-opening experience: “On my way to the concert I saw how most houses on Wembley Hill had put out signs, renting out their driveways to concert goers so they could park. They were all full, going at about £20 for the afternoon. Swift is playing at Wembley Stadium eight times this summer, during which the average family will make £160 per parking spot. It is not ground-breaking, but it is not nothing. Her fans travel around in thousands to see the concert, they eat, drink and sleep locally and as far as fans go – they’re not football fans. Their most threatening weapon is glitter, so they are made very welcome.”

She is also eloquent about the greatness of Swift as a live performer: “The

concert was electric. I have been to many concerts before, primarily rock bands, but this was quite special. I had never seen such a mix of young and old before at Wembley. The youngest concert goer was no more than five years old and the oldest, in their eighties. I found it very heart-warming to find a common source of joy across generations. There were 84,449 people on her first day at Wembley, and throughout the 46 song track list that she sings she never sang alone. The people who had purchased seated tickets, did not sit down.” Giovanni brilliantly captures the uniquenesss of live concerts: “There’s something about concerts that makes everyone think they can sing, which is endearing. At times it was hard to distinguish Swift’s voice from the crowd. But you can see her relishing in it. She is so tuned in and plugged into the audience. She kept spotting people who needed help in the standing crowd and pointing them out to the first aid crew.”

“SHE KEPT SPOTTING PEOPLE WHO NEEDED HELP IN THE STANDING CROWD AND POINTING THEM OUT

TO THE FIRST AID CREW.”

This is an important point. If one looks at Swift’s predecessors in the 60s, whether it be The Beatles or The Rolling Stones, they had become famous in order to put distance between themselves and others; Bob Dylan, meanwhile, has sometimes shown a kind of lofty contempt for his audience.

The examples of Swift’s good nature are too numerous to have been faked and it is this which causes such widespread happiness: we haven’t been watching a musical phenomenon sweeping through the country so much as a sort of spiritual force. Swift has given huge amounts to charity – and not done it any showy or self-aggrandising way. We can find the friendship bracelets which are handed out at her concerts kitsch if we want, but the moment we think friendship itself is kitsch, we have become cynical, and the joke may have rebounded on us.

Dr Paul Hokemeyer, an extremely successful psychologist, agrees: ”One of the things I find most valuable about Taylor Swift’s uber celebrity is how it transcends the veneer of social media celebrities such as the Kardashians and rejects the meanness of the Real Housewife franchises. In contrast to these other celebrity phenomena, Taylor Swift sends a message of kindness, inclusion, respect and hope. Her music is uplifting. It celebrates the vulnerability inherent in being human and creates connections through communities of joy and the celebration of love and life.”

This is well-put. As we look at the world of politics at time of writing, we find an unhappy American election where some think a new civil war may be imminent; in France things seem even worse – and, of course, the Russia-Ukraine and Middle East conflicts continue, as do threats to our Western way of life from China, North Korea and Iran. The opportunities for despair appear to be legion.

But Taylor Swift, whether one likes her music or not, is against all that, says Hokemeyer. “As a mental health professional, I find the hunger for such messages indicative of the pernicious impact our current culture of ideological division, violence, patriarchy and ecological destruction is having on the younger generations of humans. They are looking, like Harry Harlow’s monkeys, for love, nurturance, benevolent leadership and comfort in their lives. When Taylor takes the stage, or is heard over earbuds on the tube, she touches her fans on a deeply emotional level. She models power through vulnerability rather than malignant narcissism. She speaks to her tribe in a way that nourishes their hearts, minds and bodies. She makes them feel important, seen, understood and, most of all, valued in ways that our political, religious, corporate and even family leaders have failed them.”

“TAYLOR SWIFT HAS DONE MORE TO HELP WITH HUNGER THAN GOVERNMENTS.”

Giovanni agrees: “You can love or hate Taylor Swift, it doesn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things. Her music is not everyone’s cup of tea and that's fair enough. But in the past year, Taylor Swift has done more to help with hunger than governments. Measurably

so. In every city she plays, she donates to food banks enough money to keep them running for a whole year. Many roll their eyes, it’s all for show, it’s all to paint a certain picture. But does that matter? Not to the people who are getting regular, hot meals.”

In other words, Swift is now in effect beyond her art – she exists in a realm of willy-nilly cultural significance, exactly as the Beatles did. It was a futile thing to announce that one didn’t much like Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band in 1966, the year of its release. It was what was happening then; it was how the world was. Years, later Sir Martin Amis would write in his 1973 novel The Rachel Papers that: ‘To be against the Beatles is against life.” It is the same with Swift today: she is, whether one likes it or not, part of the life force.

But how exactly has this force come about and what does it say about us? Just as in old footage one sees young girls in a sort of delighted panic at the sight of the Beatles performing ‘She Loves You’, today we see their progeny experiencing similar emotions with Taylor Swift. This is interesting because in the case of The Beatles one assumed that sex might have had something to do with the extent of the obsession; but that doesn’t seem to be the case when it comes to Swift.

So what’s going on here? Hokemeyer tells me: “For time eternal, humans have engaged in celebrity worship and oriented themselves in tribal hierarchies. In the realm of psychology, such patterns of being are known as archetypal. They are accepted as part of the universal human experience and involve behaviours that reoccur consistently over millennia and across cultures.”

In other words, what we are seeing is only the latest manifestation of a tendency as ancient as the hills. Hokemeyer continues: “But while this overall pattern of being remains constant, over time, the objects of our celebrity worship change to reflect

the contemporary zeitgeist. In ancient Greece, humans worshiped celebrities such as Aristotle and Socrates. These men provided clarity and comfort in a dangerous and chaotic world through logic, reason and intelligence. Fast forward to modern times when today’s celebrities are human beings who have attained elevated levels of financial success and captured the world’s attention by features of their beings: their talent, their power, their beauty, their wealth.”

So we’ve gone away from celebrating intellect towards worshipping money? It isn’t quite as simple as that, says Hokemeyer: “Today’s celebrities, such as Taylor Swift, garner and hold society’s projections of superiority over the banality of human existence while providing transcendental experiences to people longing for connection, joy, comfort. She, through her music and charisma, provides a momentary reprieve from what remains a dangerous

and chaotic world while allowing us to organise ourselves like honeybees, under a superior other and in colonies of shared purpose and identity.”

What is remarkable about this is just how universal it appears to be. “What is most interesting about Taylor Swift is how she’s been able to garner uber celebrity amongst a geographically, racially, economically and culturally diverse group of people,” Hokemeyer continues. “In contrast to celebrities of the past whose celebrity has been more limited, Taylor has been able to utilise the power of the internet to unite a humanity suffering from an acute state of division, disconnection, violence and environmental degradation by making her fans feel seen, valued and understood through her music, charisma and the community she’s created.”

When I put all this over email to the Secret Critic, the mystery author agrees but also has more to say: “I would argue that Swift, though she seems to have

arrived out of the milieu of pop, and even of American Idol and so on, in fact has more in common with the Sixties songwriters than we sometimes think, and far more than her detractors realise. She isn’t only a live concert experience; there’s a genuine listening experience to be had as well.”

Like Shields, The Secret Critic points to Folklore as a period when her songwriting went to a new level where, notwithstanding some dissent over her new album, it has largely stayed. “From Folklore onwards, you’ll find more complex language – a deeper commitment to character. In my book I have an analysis of the Betty trilogy on Folklore and there are some remarkably telling details and some very clever touches in terms of character: she can do the male character voice, and the two very different female characters. This is far harder than it looks – and she does it.” These three songs, consisting of ‘Cardigan’, ‘August’ and ‘Betty’ are

TAYLOR SWIFT'S EDUCATION

1989

Swift is born in West Reading, Pennsylvania

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2000

Visits Nashville where her covers are

redolent, says The Secret Critic, of those times. “I think that the pandemic period was an opportunity which she seized in some way. She watched a lot of movies and read a lot of books -and the result was a kind of deepening in her art. I would argue that her best song is ‘Exile’ where there is a depth of feeling about the collaboration with The National which has to do with the odd static urgency of that time. I don’t think we see such depth in her recent collaboration with Post Malone.” Swift herself is very interesting about

2005

Catches the eye of Scott Borchetta at the Bluebird Café, and becomes one of Big Machine’s first signings

2006

Debut album, Taylor Swift released

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her craft. “Throughout all of the changes that have happened in my life, one of the priorities I've had is to never change the way I write songs and the reasons I write songs. I write songs to help me understand life a little more. I write songs to get past things that cause me pain. And I write songs because sometimes life makes more sense to me when it's being sung in a chorus, and when I can write it in a verse.”

Love continues to obsess her –relationships are to her, to paraphrase Larkin, what daffodils were to

Wordsworth: “I write a lot of songs about love and I think that’s because to me love seems like this huge complicated thing,” she has said. “But it seems like every once in a while, two people get it figured out, two people get it right. And so I think the rest of us, we walk around daydreaming about what that might be like. To find that one great love, where all of a sudden everything that seemed to be so complicated, became simple. And everything that used to seem so wrong all of a sudden seemed right because you were with the person who made you feel fearless.”

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EDUCATION TIMELINE:

2020

Records Folklore and Evermore during the pandemic

Wikipedia.org

2022

- Receives an honorary Doctor of Fine Arts degree from New York University and served as its commencement speaker

2021

Embarks on the Taylor’s Versions project after fall out with record label

Wikipedia.org

“I WRITE

SONGS

TO GET

PAST THINGS

THAT CAUSE ME PAIN.”

But does The Secret Critic see The Tortured Poets Department as a weaker album? “I do think it’s a problem which pop stars face, and it’s to do with musical education. Classical composers tend not to become samey because they just have so many musical resources at their disposal. The same just isn’t the

2023

Becomes a billionaire, the first musician to reach this landmark through her songs and tours

Wikipedia.org

case in popular music – even when you look at McCartney who is just this immensely musical guy. Take ‘All Too Well’ as an example. The chord sequence is essentially, C, A minor, F, G – which is broadly the same chord sequence as ‘Let It Be’. But it’s very simple, and the danger is that when you’re writing according to simple structures, you find there are fewer places to go musically.

As I listen to the latest single ‘Fortnite’ I find myself understanding what The Secret Critic is saying: in ways which are difficult to pinpoint the melody, feels

of a piece with Midnights but it lacks the excitement of the inspiration which must have accompanied that album. Why is this? “I’m not saying it’s a terrible album. But I do think its weakness has been masked somewhat by the ongoing success of the Eras tour. Why does pop music tend to fall off a little? There are a few reasons. One was described by Stephen Sondheim. He pointed out that after a while, muscle memory means that when a composer approaches their instrument their hands, by habit, gravitate back to

Alamy.com

Alamy.com

the same chords. This habitual element to songwriting can be very damaging and create samey work, as I believe it is beginning to do with Swift. John Updike wrote a famous essay called ‘The Writer in Winter’ where he writes of every sentence ‘bumping up against one you wrote 50 years ago’. Updike lived to a fairly decent age, and his prose was rich. Pop tends to stale quicker as the options for creativity appear to be far fewer.”

But there’s another problem. “The other thing is that pop music is the expression of youth. Now, there are a few exceptions here and there to this –Bob Dylan and Leonard Cohen were still breaking ground into their 80s. But they came from folk music which is a more cerebral form. Swift is interesting because in Folklore and Evermore, she has shown that she’s comfortable with this genre so there are places for

her to explore as a songwriter. It’s just that both Midnights – and now The Tortured Poets Department – have shown her moving in a more disco beat direction. I don’t think the quality will be sustainable in that line.”

Angelina Giovani disagrees: “My favourite album is by far the most recent one The Tortured Poets Department. It’s quite a departure from her usual style of writing, but it is an immersive experience that is very emotionally charged. All feelings come through very clearly, whether it’s heartbreak, pain, anger, relief, reassignment or juvenile joy. My favourite song of the album is ‘The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived’. I can absolutely see it turned into another short film.”

The Secret Critic responds: “If you listen to that song, even the melody along the line ‘ever lived’ is too similar to the melody to Bad Blood. There’s no way

to avoid the fact that she’s likely going to go into an artistic decline, and that once this tour is over, and all the noise has died down, we might well have seen peak Swift.”

But the Secret Critic also has fascinating things to say about the scale of the Swift phenomenon. In The Anatomy of Fame he cites what he calls The Peyton Predicament, which references a football commentator and Swiftie called Jared Peyton. Peyton found himself as the Kansas City stadium where Swift’s latest boyfriend Travis Kelce was playing. He decided to go and find her and filmed his quest on Twitter.

What followed went briefly viral online. Peyton, using his insider’s knowledge of the geography of the stadium managed to get to the end of a tunnel just as Swift went past. “I was fanboying out!” he said on the video he streamed on Twitter, which in itself earned him a

Alamy.com

certain fleeting celebrity. “The Peyton Predicament speaks to the huge importance in many people’s lives,” says The Secret Critic. “My book seeks to ask the question: Why does he feel the need to do that? What is it about her and what is it about us that means that it has come to this?”

It would be easy to be cynical about this and to consider Payton little better than insane to place such emphasis on saying hello to a fellow mortal being. But Dr. Paul Hokemeyer takes a somewhat different view: “At the most primal level of our being, we all need to feel seen and validated by a superior other. This need is hard-wired into our central nervous system. We come out of the womb completely dependent on another human being to feed, love and comfort us. Without this love, we, like the monkeys in the famous Harry Harlow study, will suffer from profound states of emotional despair and poor physical health outcomes.”

By this reckoning then Payton’s behaviour, far from being a bit mad, is in fact deeply human: “When Taylor Swift not just saw, but also gracefully acknowledged Payton’s presence, his central nervous system lit up like Harrods on Christmas Eve and flooded him with a host of endogenous opioids such as dopamine, serotonin and oxytocin. He was elevated to a state of being, ecstasy actually, that might defy logic, but which is consistent with our basic human need to be validated by a superior other. In the experience, Payton transcended his human frailties and became intoxicated with the elixir of celebrity.”

In The Anatomy of Fame, The Secret Critic goes into the matter in even greater detail and analyses the constituents of this appeal from the philosophical perspective. “I wanted to write a book where at the beginning we see Payton in one way – but by the end we’re brought round to his way of seeing – or at least to understanding it.

If someone said to you: ‘Taylor Swift is over there, you might want to go and see her,’ you’d think one set of thoughts. But if I said: ‘Somebody who embodies beauty, creativity, kindness and power’ is over there, you’d say: ‘Well, you should definitely go and talk to her’. But to Peyton that’s exactly what Swift is.”

The book therefore breaks down Swift’s appeal looking at her songwriting, her beauty, and above all her morality. The effect is very profound. We see how Swift has effectively straddled the songwriting of the 1960s and written songs which are close to being standards, while also becoming the premier live performer of our time. She exhibits beauty but also vulnerability. But above all she joins power with a matter-of-fact kindness which never feels affected.

“EVERYONE ON HER TEAM FROM TRUCK DRIVERS, TO BACK UP SINGERS HAVE RECEIVED LIFE CHANGING BONUSES, TOTALLING A WHOPPING $55 MILLION DOLLARS.”

I decide I want to test The Secret Critic’s theory on Angelina Giovanni, who enthuses: “I find it rather impressive that people who work with and for her and don't seem to have a bad word to say and are always raving about her generosity. Everyone on her team from truck drivers, to back up singers have received life changing bonuses, totalling a whopping $55 million dollars. That’s why I’m rooting for her to be even bigger. I love the fact that it is someone of my generation that has made it so big, so young and is on track to breaking so many musical records previously held by

music’s biggest names.”

Of course, there are limits to her power. As the Netflix film Miss Americana shows, her intervention on an abortion referendum in her home state did nothing to sway the result, and there is a sense too that the way in which politicians, especially the Biden administration, fall over her for her endorsement borders on the absurd.

But her business skills – or her ‘power moves’ as she refers to her own acumen in the song ‘The Man’ – are both considerable, but also very far from being the main reason for her fame. It is a mark of her uniqueness to think that she came up with the line “I swear to be melodramatic and true to my lover”, but also the brilliant savviness of the Taylor’s Versions project, whereby she wrested back control of her back catalogue taking advantage of the fact that she continued to own the copyright of her songs. When it comes to the management of her career, one suspects the influence – perhaps both genetic and direct – of her financially savvy father: Swift used to tell her contemporaries at school that she would be a stockbroker when she grew up.

But there is no doubt that Swift’s principle achievement is to have created by the power of her music and her example, a change of direction away from selfishness towards kindness. Dylan was always acerbic; the Gallagher brothers were demonstrably offensive and the world is full of rock stars who don’t donate to food banks – and likely never consider it something which they might do. Taylor Swift does and it is wonderful that she does. It seems to me as though she is an aspect of something which appears to be happening the world over: a realisation that the values of self-interest which arguably date as far back as the Renaissance are insufficient to live by. We vaguely know this – but sometimes it helps if someone sings about it too.

Illustration by Andrew Prescott

Illustrations by Andrew Prescott

“CUT OUT THE WAFFLE”

HOW SHOULD BUSINESSES COMMUNICATE TO THEIR STAFF?

GEORGE ACHEBE

Iremember in the last Parliament a very interesting conversation with the then Defence Secretary Grant Shapps, when I asked him about his beliefs when it came to communicating both within his department and in his office. He gave an interesting answer: “My jobs means I have to assimilate a lot of information. I encourage people who work for me to write really crisp two page submissions. If an employee sends me something that’s too long, I send them the 9th August 1940 memo written by Sir Winston Churchill and which is one page long. It instructs that even during the Second World War, they should be getting things down succinctly and cutting out the waffle.”

And what if they do it again? “Then I send the one he sent in 1951 when he was reelected which encloses the one in 1940!”

“TO DO OUR WORK, WE ALL HAVE TO READ A MASS OF PAPERS. NEARLY ALL OF THEM ARE FAR TOO LONG. THIS WASTES TIME, WHILE ENERGY HAS TO BE SPENT IN LOOKING FOR THE ESSENTIAL POINTS.”

It’s worth seeking out this memo written in our greatest Prime Minister’s heyday. It reads: “To do our work, we all have to

read a mass of papers. Nearly all of them are far too long. This wastes time, while energy has to be spent in looking for the essential points.” Churchill goes on to recommend ‘short, crisp paragraphs’; he argues that data sets should be set out in an appendix and demands an end to “woolly phrases” such as: “It is also of importance to bear in mind the following considerations”.

Churchill was recommending this course of communication for three excellent reasons. Firstly, bad communication annoyed him and he was in a very strong position to ask other people not to get on his nerves. Secondly, it would save time. And thirdly, and perhaps most importantly, he was arguing that better memo-writing would be an ‘aid to clearer thinking’.

These lessons, of course, need not be confined to politics. Communication in the workplace is integral to business success; it isn’t some hoped-for addon. It turns out to be more essential that that. It might even be said that successful businesses succeed because of good communication and that bad businesses fail because of the opposite state of affairs. Very few businesses lack something of merit in the central idea; but few can execute – and failure to execute is usually attributable to poor communication.

Tracey Jones is a life coach who has been observing these matters closely. So what effects can poor communication have? “One of the factors I have noticed

in the workplace is poor morale due to unclear communication,” she tells me. “I have come across teams that lack enthusiasm, which can lead to a breakdown in communication and relationships. I found that low morale can result in increased conflicts, decreased collaboration, and a lack of trust among team members. When information is conveyed accurately, employees can perform their tasks effectively.”

And yet given the obvious nature of the problem, it’s interesting that few businesses seem to take it sufficiently seriously to tackle it. “It always surprises me when some establishments don't invest in communication and

soft skills development within their teams,” Jones continues. “In stressful environments, I see some individuals struggle to articulate their thoughts effectively, listen actively, or process information accurately. This has also led to misunderstandings, conflicts, and a breakdown in communication channels. Being able to check in and look at the internal systems of communication on a regular basis will aid with morale, working through low-level issues before they become a problem. The 'better if' question can be a powerful one enabling teams to be solutions-focused with areas of communication.”

Dr. Paul Hokemeyer, one of the leading psychologists, has seen the problem up close and is able to pinpoint what it is which makes employees value communication so highly: “At the heart of all effective communication, regardless of its form, is meeting the receiver’s desire to be seen and heard, validated as a person of worth and dignity. It’s a reciprocal process that involves three key elements.” And what are these? “The first is mastering the art of delivery. Good communicators are like good artists and writers. They understand the importance of a disciplined edit and are skilled at reducing messages down to their essence – an essence I hasten to add, that will enable the receiver to see themselves reflected back in the communication. It also requires attention to non-verbal cues which in written communication will consist of tone and composition and in person-to-person communication will involve body language, tone, pace and pauses.” These points remind one a little of Shapps’ Churchill memo. “Finally,” continues Hokemeyer, “it’s a function of empathy, of being able to listen to and eager to learn from the person with whom you are communicating while earnestly trying to see how the receiver will see themselves in your message. In this regard, unclear communications tend to be undisciplined, self-focused, sloppy, demeaning and authoritarian.”

“IT ALWAYS SURPRISES ME WHEN SOME ESTABLISHMENTS DON'T INVEST IN COMMUNICATION

AND SOFT SKILLS DEVELOPMENT WITHIN THEIR

TEAMS.”

Partly because this area isn’t widely taught most of us will have experienced situations where the person in charge of an organisation is manifestly ill-suited to that role – and this unsuitability will very often show itself in microcosm at the level of each interaction.

So what are the typical mistakes? Of course there are bosses who are too curt and so create a cold working environment and usually an unhappy workforce as a result. Clement Attlee was perhaps a little in this mould, and would famously take decisions in Cabinet meetings with a clipped ‘yes’ or ‘no’. This was in sharp contrast to Churchill who seemed sometimes to issue Gibbonesque paragraphs which may not always have passed the test for succinctness which he recommended for others.

Verbosity is in fact a common problem: “I do see this often, and I circle back to the aspect of education,” Jones says. “Have we received proper training on how to communicate clearly and concisely? If I recognise that I can overcontribute or struggle to contribute effectively during meetings, how can I address this challenge? The key lies in developing self-awareness to identify these tendencies enabling the individual to work on improving them.”

I ask Stuart Thomson who has held a range of senior roles in public affairs in his career to give his advice on how to

address problems like this? “The best way to address this is by attempting to understand the personality types you have mentioned but also being unafraid to ask questions of them and sum up any conversations so that you can be clear in what is expected of you and by when. I think of it as a verbal mini 'meeting note' with clearly defined tasks.”

Thomson also looks at the question practically from the perspective of the employee: “Whatever the personality type, non-delivery is always viewed as a failure so that is what we need to avoid. It is not that you are seeking to challenge the authority of a manager, and questions in that style are bound to antagonise, but are instead looking to deliver a successful piece of work that will ultimately help them to deliver successfully as well.”

Like Jones, Thomson is also mindful that we are usually operating in an

environment where leaders aren’t satisfactorily trained. “The sad reality is that many managers do not receive training, assistance or support in how to be a manager. Most are simply promoted into the role. The best managers are those that appreciate this and ask for, and welcome, feedback on how they work with a team. That is always something to look out for and is always a good sign.”

Jones adds: “It's not uncommon for individuals to transition into managerial roles without the necessary upskilling,

Winston Churchill (Wikipedia.org)

Stuart Thomson (Wikipedia.org)

a trend we've witnessed for years, particularly with a diminishing emphasis on soft skills during professional development. The ability to convey messages succinctly is a trainable skill. Being mindful when entering conversations is a good start, yet in the workplace, people often move from one meeting to another without considering how they present themselves. While we may know the content we need to deliver in a meeting, do we truly understand the 'how' of delivering it effectively? Setting ourselves small goals to elevate our communication skills.”

Humility is always a crucial aspect of any leadership role, and of course we must remember that nowadays there are so many forms of communication that we need to be very careful about what method we choose – and even sometimes which emoji. Thomson explains: “The channels of communication are often set by the organisation and it assumes that everyone knows how to convey themselves well on each particular channel. But each has its own way of work, its own language and norms and these may, or may not, fit with those of the organisation.” Thomson adds that

“channels are often selected because of the ease or speed of response, how they allow groups to work together, or how they integrate with other platforms. But the needs of an organisation, or its senior leadership team, are not necessarily the same as the needs of its team members.”

However, Thomson also points out that this doesn’t always work to the organisation’s advantage and Thomson is keen to point out that it should be managed properly: “Any organisation needs to set out some 'rules of the game' so people know how to respond, what is expected and what is acceptable as well,” he explains. “No assumptions should be made about how well anyone knows or understands a platform. It should also be made clear that a message can be followed up with a call, it should never be about one form of communication only. As a rough rule of thumb, if the issue that needs to be addressed takes more than two sentences to explain then, at the very least, it needs a verbal or face-to-face interaction to supplement it.”

This advice strikes me as wise, and Jones agrees: “It can be confusing for some as to which communication platform to use, what is the etiquette with these

various channels? People are using WhatsApp more for business and I have found some clients mentioning that they can switch down easier to their emails than WhatsApp, some feel that the WhatsApp channel of communication has an even greater urgency to respond. As a result of all this, I believe it's good to touch base with yourself or with your teams to create your own etiquette guidelines to ensure consistency across the various channels.”

Hokemeyer points out that this is especially important since at some point stress will almost certainly enter the system. “While good communication is an art that can be mastered, one doesn’t always have the time to spend crafting the perfect message and delivery,” he tells me. “This is especially true in times of stress and crisis. In these situations, we are overcome by emotional reactivity and will most assuredly make mistakes. We will say too much, too intensely and step on toes. We will shut down the person with whom we want to communicate.”

But, Hokemeyer continues, everybody acts differently. “Then there are people who in times of stress become miserly with their words, verbally paralyzed by their emotions. In these cases, the recipient will be left feeling confused, disrespected and devalued. When these situations arise, take a pause, recalibrate and regroup. Take time to reflect and remember that when wrong, an apology coupled with another attempt to communicate effectively, will pay off enormous dividends of goodwill and evidence maturity and elevated leadership.”

Of course, communication is also an essential aspect of mentoring. So how do these experts think communication can alter the mentoring relationship?

“Every mentoring relationship is unique,” says Jones. “In every session, one of my main focuses is on active listening to uncover the underlying beliefs and assumptions of the mentee. Instead of telling them what to do, I guide them

with specific information to support their growth. I blend mentoring, coaching, and facilitating to provide a holistic approach. It is vital to differentiate between sharing knowledge and instructing. I aim for mentees to derive valuable insights that they can apply, including tools, best practices, and real-world scenarios. Through coaching and powerful questioning, I help mentees chart their path forward, crafting a coherent plan. I show empathy for their challenges and setbacks, nurturing their growth at a pace that suits them.”

Thomson meanwhile emphasises the importance of a business’ ability to communicate clearly its essential messages to the outside world. “Without the ability to communicate effectively, you cannot have a career in public affairs,” he tells me. “It comes into everything from understanding complex issues, developing briefing papers, challenging clients to ensure you help them to protect reputations, and all the way through to presenting. The nature of any effective stakeholder relationship means that it is for the long term and the less purely transactional it is the greater the likelihood it will last.” That has a particular ramification in Thomson’s view: “Having an ability to mix the formal and informal helps as well. Essentially, the best communication is focused on the needs of the audience - internal or external - rather than simply on what you want to say.”

“IT IS THIS SELFAWARENESS WHICH WE ALL NEED TO CULTIVATE IN ORDER TO BECOME

MORE EFFECTIVE COMMUNICATORS.”

We forget that, beneath our suits and ties, we are emotional creatures. Good communication can help us prevent flare-ups of emotion which are also a part of our nature. Jones explains: “Strong emotions in a high-intensity environment such as anger, frustration or stress can also cloud judgment, can impair rational thinking, and influence how messages are conveyed and interpreted. Some individuals experiencing intense emotions can struggle to express themselves clearly and consider different perspectives, leading to misunderstandings and again conflicts.”

It is an interesting question as to what it is really which makes us, by and large, inept at communication. Jones is enlightening on this aspect too: “The notion that we operate "95 per cent from the unconscious and 5 per cent from the conscious" is often attributed to the renowned Swiss psychiatrist and psychoanalyst Carl Gustav Jung. While Jung didn't explicitly quantify the ratio as such, the idea underscores the influence of unconscious processes on human behaviour, thoughts, and emotions beyond our conscious awareness. It’s essential to recognise that we may engage in different communication styles with various individuals. Conducting a self-case study can be a powerful exercise, shedding light on situations where we tend to babble. By probing deeper into why we behave this way — whether due to nerves, shyness, or ingrained habits — we can challenge and reshape these patterns.”

It is this self-awareness which we all need to cultivate in order to become more effective communicators. Hokemeyer adds: “Babbling is a function of our regressing into an infantile state of being. We are unconsciously and automatically pulled into reactive state due to our feeling any number of intense and uncomfortable emotions. At the top of the list are insecurity, anger and disrespect. When these occur it’s important, we track our experience by consciously pulling back from the moment and looking at ourselves from what is known as the viewpoint of a participant observer in our lives.”

I’m not sure if Churchill was as good at all this as we sometimes like to think, but he was certainly right to feel that the first thing a good leader needs is a clear sense of parameters around communication. On the face of it, it can seem a very difficult ask: we need to be concise not blunt; understanding but not-longwinded; flexible but not vague; optimistic but not blind to the potential hurdles; realistic without being negative. Perhaps it is the virtual impossibility of resolving these paradoxes in our day-to-day communications which has meant that businesses place these matters so low on the agenda. But with growth and productivity low, many businesses are now realising that they need to try: and perhaps they’re getting better at communicating that fact to one another.

Carl Gustav Jung (Wikipedia.org)

Dr. Paul Hokemeyer

CAREER THOUGHTS ON THE WILDLIFE PHOTOGRAPHY AWARDS

AtFinito, it is one of the most regular things we hear on the wish list from our young candidates: I want to do something to help the planet. This is always wonderful. Very often, when the wish is first formulated, it amounts to the shape of an intention, and the candidate’s journey is to find out more about what career possibilities really lie ahead.

These can be both exciting, and perhaps a little bewildering, in their abundance. There are people out there who work in nature documentaries, who earn their living studying lion population numbers, who work for the Natural History Museum as curators, marketers, or social media experts. There are lawyers

who specialise in environmental issues, and entrepreneurs who are exploring every kind of business to tackle climate change. Our concern for the planet rightly proliferates across the whole of society.

In a sense, this is the economy now – it might even be that there will be very few jobs soon which don’t help the planet. And yet, though it’s often important to delve deeper into the sort of thing we’d actually like to do, at Finito we have tended to find that the intention is so strong that a candidate who wants to work in this area will always find a way to succeed.

The reason for this is because the motivation is there. And the motivation

is

there because the natural world is always reminding us of its beauty and its fragility.

“THIS IS OUR PLANET, OUR ONLY HOME.

QUITE FRANKLY, IT’S A KNOCKOUT ON EVERY CONCEIVABLE LEVEL.”

The Wildlife Photographer of the Year, the world-famous exhibition from the Natural History Museum, has been going since 1965, and this year is returning to the Dorset Museum

Zeyu Zhai

Amit Eshel

Max Waugh

Alex Mustard

Mark Williams

Olivier Gonnet

Shashwat Harish

Mike Korostelev

Isaac Szabo

& Art Gallery. It consists of over 100 photographs which together form an impressive catalogue of the natural world. This is our planet, our only home. Quite frankly, it’s a knockout on every conceivable level.

Sometimes we see nature as vaguely comical as in Zeyu Zhai’s lovely image of a sea bird scarpering across shallows with prey dangling from its beak.

At other times, it is full of a kind of critical dynamism: we see Max Waugh’s water buffalo, with one alert eye, splashing through water: we don’t know if it is fleeing a predator, or seeking food – but we know that his life is a struggle and that it will need that alertness every second of its life. Meanwhile Amit Ashel’s pair of fighting mountain ibexes show that a sort of balletic grace – and an astounding fearlessness regarding heights – can show itself in the fight for a mate.

What it is doing all this for is, of course, the mystery. How do caribou know when to begin their great migration across Canada and Alaska and how do

hungry wolves know they are about to embark on it? How do bears know that after hibernation there will be grass in the uplands but critical body mass to be earned from the salmon in the streams who are coming there in droves to mate? They are not told it – but they know it. Everything is in exquisite balance; it couldn’t be better.

“THE

GLORY OF NATURE IS A UNIVERSAL EXPERIENCE.”

The glory of nature is a universal experience. Today the competition receives entries from over 90 countries. It is remarkable to consider that every second we are alive this kind of beauty is happening in every hidden square inch of the world: mountain, or ocean depth, or cave recess. If this heartening knowledge isn’t a sound basis on which to build a career, I don’t know what is. And you can also be a wildlife photographer too.

Solvin Zanki. Two-coloured mason-bee (Osmia bicolor), the bee is building its nests in a empty snail shell. The bee provisions the snail shell with chewed balls of pollen and nectar and seals it with a layer of debris.

DESIGN CENTRE

DESIGN DIRECTIONS FOR AUTUMN/WINTER

BY CLAIRE GERMAN, CEO, DESIGN CENTRE, CHELSEA HARBOUR

Home to an inspiring mix of luxury design houses, independent companies, flagship showrooms and over 600 international brands, Design Centre, Chelsea Harbour is the largest of its kind in Europe. Its unique sense of community, commitment to creative excellence and specialist expertise make it the first port of call for professional designers and architects sourcing for residential and commercial projects, as well as design enthusiasts seeking design and decoration inspiration for their own homes.

The Design Centre hosts two ‘mustattend’ events each year to celebrate the new showroom collections. London

Design Week in March showcases spring/summer launches, and Focus is held every September to unveil the latest autumn/winter showstoppers. This year, Focus/24 sees a new approach when the well-established design and decoration show (16 – 20 September), will be augmented by Focus/24: The Longer View (23 September – 11 October). Aimed to coincide to a time when the vibrant London scene is buzzing with art and design, it will bring refreshed creativity to the Design Centre, with opportunities for visitors to see more inspirational exhibitors for a longer period. Adding another layer

to the programme is Future Heritage, an installation showcasing work by contemporary craftmakers. With a track record for spotting the next big thing, curator and design journalist

and demonstrations and discover how materials and finishes have been taken in new, imaginative directions.

Alongside the new launches and a packed programme, visitors look to Focus/24 to keep one step ahead. Following weeks of investigation and sneak peeks of the new fabric, wallpaper, lighting and furniture collections, the Design Centre’s creative director Arabella McNie and wider team identify common threads such as new patterns, motifs, shapes and colour palettes. A voice of authority within the industry, these design directions showcase the latest standout products and the stories behind them, as well as highlight the incredible creativity, expertise and craftsmanship that is fundamental to the Design

Corinne Julius has carefully selected works from makers including Borja Moranta, Tessa Silva, Nicholas Lees, Ane Christensen, Richard McVetis, Elliott Denny and Esna Su. With interior design placing ever greater value on craftmanship, visitors and collectors can also learn how to commission unique pieces for projects, get the inside track at discussions

In the following round-up, Claire German, CEO of Design Centre, Chelsea Harbour, outlines the design directions for autumn/winter 2024 for finito readers, sharing the narrative of each one through specifics wallcoverings, fabrics and objets. From classic contemporary to cutting-edge; new maximalism to chic simplicity; urbane sophisticate to rural retreat, whatever style you seek, at Focus/24 visitors can expect a bounty of new designs to inspire.

Pictured: ‘Imari’ plate, Raynaud at SOURCE at Personal Shopping (Second Floor, Design Centre East)

To see these pieces in person, visit Focus/24 between Monday 16 – Friday 20 September where all interior design aficionados are welcome.

Return for more inspiration during Focus/24: The Longer View from Monday 23 September – Friday 11 October.

‘VIVACIOUS’ DESIGN DIRECTION

This autumn/winter, design houses are celebrating the artistic, the vibrant and the bold. The aptly titled ‘Vivacious’

design direction is brimming with abstract botanical shapes and lively hues, reminiscent of carnival colours. This is an opportune moment to highlight the ‘Imari’ porcelain plate by Raynaud, available through the Design Centre’s recently launched Source at Personal Shopping service. In addition to some 40 china and glass brands, it is a veritable treasure trove for tableware, and showcases exquisite creativity, from traditional, ornate and highly coloured patterns through to sleek and bold modern styles. As well as famous heritage brands, such as

Herand, Meissen and Royal Crown Derby, we are also proud to introduce newer names who are making waves in the tableware industry, such as ceramicist Deborah Brett. With its elegant interpretation, the ‘Imari’ plate (pictured here) embodies the ‘Vivacious’ design direction.

‘HOOKED ON CLASSICS’ DESIGN DIRECTION

Another key design direction for this season is ‘Hooked on Classics’. Theatrical in nature, it is rooted in

Pictured: ‘Harlequin with Fiddle’ , Luke Edward Hall x Rubell, Rubelli (Ground Floor, Design Centre East)

a classical approach, but there is a modern twist throughout. The colour palette is reminiscent of a country house with an abundance of blues, greens, golds, reds, and pinks. We find a play on the past here, with whimsical upgrades on furniture shapes that still allude to tradition. Rubelli’s upcoming collaboration with English artist and designer Luke Edward Hall really symbolises that. From the ‘Baroque Fountain’ which depicts a nautical scene with double dolphins and gushing water, to the ‘Harlequin with Fiddle’ wallcovering (pictured here) which shows a circus performer on stage during the improvised theatre of 16th-century Italy. Rubelli, the Venetian family-run company now in its fifth generation, designs and manufactures furnishing fabrics for residential and contract use. Globally

distributed, its portfolio includes Rubelli Venezia, Rubelli Casa and Dominique Kieffer by Rubelli.

‘CACTUS FLOWER’ DESIGN DIRECTION

The ‘Cactus Flower’ design direction is aptly named because of its refreshing colour palette, featuring aqua, prickly pear pink, spearmint green and sky blue. Epitomising this perfectly, we have ‘Charlotte’ by Claire de Quénetain at August + Co, available as both a wallcovering and a fabric. Known for her uplifting, stylised patterns, de Quénetain is a French surface designer whose fluid, illustrative aesthetic has seen her work chosen by renowned interior designers such as Laura Gonzalez for collaborations. She is a perfect

brand for August + Co, whose curated space at the Design Centre converges innovation and artistry. From textile artisans to furniture visionaries, the showroom brings together a carefully chosen collective of British and European craftspeople and makers, shaping a dialogue between form and function, beauty and utility.

‘BRUSHSTROKE’ DESIGN DIRECTION

Artfully inspired, the Design Centre has identified the ‘Brushstroke’ design direction as a dream-like trend featuring ink splots and impressionist dots that evoke misty landscapes. The artist’s palette comfortably mixes dreamy pastels with nighttime tones of teal, indigo and smoke. Here, we must mention the ‘Drawing Room’ painting

Pictured: ‘Charlotte’ wallcovering, Claire de Quénetain at August + Co (Second Floor, North Dome)

Pictured: ‘Drawing Room’ painting by Angela Murray at Quote & Curate (First Floor, Design Centre East)

Pictured: The ‘Avalon’ rug, Jeffrey Alan Marks for The Rug Company (Ground Floor, Design Centre North)

by artist Angela Murray of Quote & Curate, a new studio, gallery space and art consultancy at the Design Centre. Visitors to Focus/24 will be able to visit Angela’s showroom in Design Centre East, as well as see her work via a pop-up exhibit in the Design Avenue, in situ for the duration of the show.

‘SGRAFFITO’ DESIGN DIRECTION

‘Sgraffito’ is derived from the Italian word ‘to scratch’, so it should be no surprise that the ‘Sgraffito’ design direction is inspired by the technique that involves scratching a motif or image into clay, often revealing a secondary colour below the surface slip. It is a technique that has been around since classical times, with examples adorning walls, ceramics and paintings in grand houses and palaces around the globe from as far back as the 6th century. This direction is angular and spirited,

and features zigzags, chevrons and triangles, often in a simple two-tone colour combination. Starting with a base of warm neutrals and layered in earthy colours, the palette reflects the pigments that have been used for centuries to decorate ceramics. A standout piece for this direction is the ‘Avalon’ rug by Jeffrey Alan Marks for The Rug Company, which embodies the scratchy, free-spirited nature of ‘Sgraffito.’ Since its inception in 1997, The Rug Company has collaborated with the world’s leading creatives across fashion, art and architecture, while a talented in-house studio pioneers each design with unparalleled expertise. They can be found in Design Centre North showcasing rugs of expert craftsmanship and innovative design.

‘ELEMENTAL’ DESIGN DIRECTION

When it comes to the ‘Elemental’ design direction, we are being

transported to a place full of rugged cliffs, stony beaches and hidden lagoons. This look is all about dry textures that are reminiscent of erosion. We can see patterns that evoke memories of the movement of water on sand and rock. Here, we must spotlight a wallcovering from the Foliage collection by Veronique de Soultrait, in collaboration with Elitis. The showroom offers beautiful fabrics, wallcovering and home accessories, as well as high-end interior brands from around the world.

The thrill of discovery is something the Design Centre strives to bring to every visitor, helping people discover great design, and supporting those doing it best. Free to register, secure your place at Focus/24 and see the new collections in-person alongside a packed calendar of workshops, masterclasses and talks: www.dcch.co.uk

Pictured: ‘Cordes Sensibles’, Foliage collection, Veronique de Soultrait at Elitis (First Floor, North Dome)

DINESH DHAMIJA LABOUR’S BRAVE NEW ENERGY WORLD

With the UK election so recently decided, voters are watching carefully for clues to the future direction of Sir Keir Starmer’s Labour Party.

As a solar energy entrepreneur, I’m alert to the parties’ renewable promises and ambitions. The most recent Conservative government talked a brave game, but gradually ditched its green commitments, because a vocal minority of its supporters hated the plans. This resulted in a fragmented approach to renewable energy, with many initiatives either scaled back or abandoned altogether.

The Labour Party has promised a new energy deal in its pitch to the nation, including a state-owned business –

Great British Energy – to invest in renewables: onshore and offshore wind, solar power, gigafactories, energy storage, and green hydrogen. This comprehensive approach aims to cover a wide array of renewable energy sources and technologies, ensuring a diversified energy portfolio for the UK.

Listening to Sir Keir address a meeting in Leith in Scotland before the election, you might think that he was the world’s green energy Messiah. Launching his party’s ‘national mission on clean energy’, he promised: “It will power us forward towards net-zero, generate growth right across the country, end the suffocating cost of living crisis and get Putin’s boot off our throat with real energy security.” These ambitious goals reflect a deep understanding

of the interconnected challenges of energy security, economic growth, and environmental sustainability.

“A PLAN TO USE CLEAN POWER TO BUILD A NEW BRITAIN, A PLAN TO GET OUR FUTURE BACK.”

It is, he proclaimed, “a plan to use clean power to build a new Britain, a plan to get our future back.” Stirring words, and a welcome commitment. But as recently as February this year, Labour ditched a promise to invest £28 billion a year

in green spending, shrinking it to just £4.8 billion a year. What kind of a new deal is that? This significant reduction raises questions about the feasibility and impact of Labour’s green energy initiatives.

“THIS STRATEGIC LOCATION AIMS TO MAXIMIZE

THE POTENTIAL OF WIND ENERGY, LEVERAGING THE GEOGRAPHICAL ADVANTAGES OF THE UK’S COASTLINE.”

Sir Keir bemoans the lost opportunities of the Tory government and the squabbles of the Scottish National Party, for whom a British success would contradict their drive for independence. He plans to headquarter GB Energy in Scotland and harvest the blowy conditions through a massive new wind energy programme, extending right down the eastern coast of the country to Grimsby in Lincolnshire. This strategic location aims to maximize the potential of wind energy, leveraging the geographical advantages of the UK’s coastline.

He plans tidal energy in the Firth of Forth and in South Wales, with clean hydrogen programmes in Yorkshire, Merseyside, and Grangemouth. These projects highlight Labour’s commitment to exploring diverse renewable energy sources, recognizing the unique potential of different regions across the UK.

Quite how far £4.8 billion will go, spread across these many fields, is an open question. The substantial reduction in proposed spending necessitates a careful reassessment of priorities

and expected outcomes. Achieving significant progress with limited funds will require innovative approaches and efficient allocation of resources.

Sir Keir points to the transformations of US President Joe Biden’s 2022 Inflation Reduction Act. But that included $783 billion for renewable energy and climate measures. He also wants to model GB Energy on Denmark’s Ørested or Sweden’s Vattenfall, but both of those countries have long traditions of renewable energy champions, paid for through high taxation. The comparison underscores the scale of investment and cultural commitment required for such a transition. Labour’s brave new energy world is an incredibly positive but also very expensive undertaking.

“LABOUR’S BRAVE NEW ENERGY WORLD IS AN INCREDIBLY POSITIVE

BUT ALSO VERY EXPENSIVE UNDERTAKING.”

Is Britain ready for the Scandinavian model? This question remains at the heart of the debate, as the UK’s political and economic landscape differs

significantly from that of Scandinavian countries. Adopting a similar approach would necessitate substantial shifts in policy and public perception.

Labour’s energy General Election pitch was targeted at the Red Wall seats lost during the Brexit saga. It aimed to claw back support in the industrial Midlands and north (including Scotland) by promising a brave new world of clean, secure energy, with hundreds of thousands of jobs. This focus on job creation and regional development sought to address economic disparities and garner broader support for Labour’s vision. That strategy certainly succeeded electorally.

All very inspiring, but without cash to back up its promises, I fear it is little more than hot air. The ambitious plans for Labour’s brave new energy world need substantial financial backing to move from rhetoric to reality, ensuring tangible benefits for the UK’s economy and environment.

Dinesh Dhamija founded, built, and sold online travel agency ebookers.com, before serving as a Member of the European Parliament. Since then, he has created the largest solar PV and hydrogen businesses in Romania. Dinesh’s latest book is The Indian Century.

WHY ETHICS MATTER

JUDITH O’DRISCOLL

Asthe dust settles on a General Election in the UK when the Conservatives were punished for their behaviour in government, and now prepare for a leadership election, and the world contemplates a personality vs principle-led presidency in US, the themes of trust and ethical conduct in the public realm have never been more at the forefront of all our minds.

Unethical conduct at the level of institutions has had its own damaging impact: the misreporting of expenses by members of parliament, the phone hacking by journalists, abuse by officials in the Church and in sport are resulting in loss of trust in the institutions of government, media, the church and sport. Similarly, the decisions of management at the Post Office in respect of Horizon IT are now under public scrutiny.

“SO, I HAVE ABSOLUTELY NO DOUBT THAT GOOD ETHICS MAKES FOR GOOD BUSINESS IN PRACTICE.”

As for the realm of business, I think we all agree that conducting business ethically is a baseline standard expected from all of us. Codes of Conduct, laws and regulation provide critical frameworks for deterring unethical behaviour. Oversight from regulators, the renewed emphasis on good governance (in the ‘G’ of ESG for example), and moral pressures from younger generations are underscoring expectations of fairness, truth and good conduct.

The price to pay for conducting business unethically is very high – reputationally,

operationally and financially. We've seen the headlines of cases where unethical decisions have negative – and even life altering - consequences. Decisions by individuals to trade on inside information have landed successful people in jail; decisions by management to conduct business inappropriately or turn a blind eye to malpractice have tarnished reputations, resulting in loss of business, reputation, share price deterioration and worse –Enron and Wirecard are striking examples; as are the cases of misreported emissions by Volkswagen.

So, I have absolutely no doubt that good ethics makes for good business in practice.

In these days of fast-paced change, pressures to deliver, and external events that place pressure on decision making, it's more important than ever for businesses to prioritise and nurture a culture of ethical conduct.

In my experience, this is effective when businesses adopt an approach led from the top, reinforced by middle management with an understanding that everyone is individually responsible and accountable for ethical behaviour at work.

In practice, this begins with a corporate commitment to ethical conduct (typically enshrined in a code of business ethics) verbalised regularly by senior management and underlined by clear zero-tolerance for unethical behaviour. Equally important is the tone set by managers who are closest to staff and have the greatest day-to-day influence. These managers play a vital role in modelling and affirming the importance of ethical conduct – not only in their language but also in their day-to-day decisions. Firms will also typically have dedicated staff (compliance, legal or others ) and mechanisms (whistle

blowing mechanisms, investigations, training) to support this culture. Finally, in this culture, each individual is held accountable for ethical behaviour at work. In the cut and thrust of business, most of us will at some point be faced with difficult choices that test us. The signposts of such moments in my career have been sleepless nights, a pervading sense of anxiety, a cognitive dissonance, and a reluctance to make a prompt decision. What has always worked for me in these situations is not to isolate myself, to have a conversation with a trusted colleague, to choose what is fair and ethical, to have a clear rationale for the decision taken and to stand by my decision, whatever the cost to me personally.

These are important considerations and it is down to every CEO and business leader to lead from the front when it comes to ethics – and for every young person embarking on their career to realise that morality isn’t something incidental to good business – it is good business.

Judith O'Driscoll

FINITO BURSARY UPDATE: LEAH HOUSTON

“IT WAS AS IF I WAS BEING SEEN FOR THE FIRST TIME.”

BY CHRISTOPHER JACKSON

One sometimes hears someone called a ‘black sheep’ of a family as a pejorative term. It needn’t be like that. Most people who look inward in any concerted way find some surprising differences between their own hopes and dreams and their outward circumstances. Knowledge of this difference can open surprising inner capacities and point the way to a fruitful life. In the best cases, it is possible to strike out in a different direction from one’s family, and to feel no sense of alienation whatsoever

– but instead to feel a sense of loving journey, which ultimately all members of the family will accept and profit from in understanding.

Something like this appears to be happening to Finito candidate Leah Houston. I ask her about her upbringing: “I’m from very humble beginnings,” she tells me, her accent distinctively Northern Irish. “Education was never pushed for me. It wasn’t the world I was in. I’m the first in my close family to be interested in my studies,

and then to want to pursue them, and then to go onto university at the Belfast Bible College in Dunmurry, Belfast.”

Despite this, Houston is aware of many similarities between herself and her family. “On the other hand, working hard was pushed on me – it was a question of financial necessity. I’ve had a part time job since I was 14. After school you went to work: food had to be placed on the table somehow. In hindsight, I wouldn’t have changed a thing at all.”

Leah Houston

“YOU HAVE YOUR HANDS AND YOU CAN DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT – SO GO WORK.”

So what did her parents do for a living? “My Dad is typical Northern Irish. He is a part-time farmer and he sells animal feed from a local agricultural shop. My mum worked in office work all her life – then she had me. She felt that to stay at home was her calling, but then she started looking after other peoples’ kids and soon she had her own childminding business.” This seems to amount to a strong entrepreneurial streak in the family. Houston agrees: “You have your hands and you can do something about it – so go work,” she says, simply. This innate understanding of business was already becoming apparent in Houston’s choices. “Business makes sense to me,” she explains, “seeing something through from 0 to 100. You’ve got to see what you’re good at and make something of it. I studied Business through to A-Level and initially thought I would study that subject at university as well. But I had a bit of a change of heart.”

This brings in another side of Leah – her religious belief. “I grew up in a strong Christian household,” she recalls. “It wasn’t pushy but it was fostered. So I studied religion and law at university which was a major change.” Throughout our conversation she will talk about her faith in the relaxed, confident way which people do when their beliefs are deeply embedded.

I am interested to know how this degree was structured. She explains: “The main aspect of it was theology, in which world studies, policy and law were examined. It was all to do with how one’s faith works out in the public sphere. I was focused predominantly on Christianity but I also did world religion modules.”

This decision garnered a mixed reaction at home. “My extended family – my cousins and so on – weren’t sure. Firstly, because I’m a woman – that didn’t go down well, and led to some opposition. Some also thought I would lose my own faith, and question what I believe.” And has she? “I haven’t. Growing up in a Christian country, Christianity can be ugly because it’s political. There have been civil wars in the name of Christianity in my country. I came out the other end with a wider appreciation of all religions and the part they can play.”

“GROWING UP IN A CHRISTIAN COUNTRY, CHRISTIANITY CAN BE UGLY BECAUSE IT’S POLITICAL.”

Houston loved her degree, but like most humanities degree, the gain of doing something one loves had a flipside: such courses don’t lead to such clear destinations as vocational courses. “I didn’t want to go into the Church, so in hindsight it was a much harder option. For the first few years I thought it was all amazing, but I’m not philosophical – I’m much more practical. My interest is in thinking how faith values can be implemented. During the three years of my degree, I did some time with a charity at home called the Evangelical Alliance. That organisation tries to bridge the gap between Church and politics. In hindsight, my time there planted the seed for politics and the public sphere.”

This seed came to fruition when Houston began working for Baroness Anne Jenkin in the Houses of Parliament. “When I finished university, I thought: ‘What the heck am I going to do next?’ I came across Christian Action Research Education (CARE) a charity which seeks to facilitate getting a job

as a Christian in politics in addition to offering training in thinking about politics. Anne Jenkin is extremely kind and said she’d take me for a year.”

And what were her impressions of the role? “Anne is so hard-working –no two days are the same for Anne,” Houston recalls, laughing perhaps at the remembered bustle of it all. “I was involved in diary management, speeches and organising meetings she would host. It was general ad hoc stuff and I was an extra pair of hands.” Leah brought a very clear sense of purpose to the role. “I was there to serve Anne – to allow her to do her job better. That could be sending letters, or photocopying, or making a cup of tea. I also became immersed in the question of gender ideology, which is one of the key issues for Anne.”

And what was the culture like in Parliament? “As a practising Christian myself, I was interested to discover the APPG, Christians in Parliament, that is a cross-party group of Christians. As long as you were a passholder you could be a part of that: MPs, kitchen staffers, it didn’t matter. It brought a sense of community, with weekly services held in the Chapel of St Mary Undercroft. Politics is so polarised and tends to be all or nothing. It is meaningful to have something that unites: at election time we prayed for whoever was in leadership.”

Baroness Anne Jenkin (Wikipedia.org)

Through Baroness Jenkin, Leah met Finito Education CEO Ronel who saw Leah’s potential. “Ronel is a great supporter of Anne and he took me under his wing. I was with Finito for half a year and the investment in me was incredible.”

“I ESPECIALLY VALUE THE CONFIDENCE

THAT THE FINITO SERVICE GIVES TO SOMEONE

IN MY CIRCUMSTANCES.”

This is good to hear and I ask her what the impact has been. “Besides all the practical things such as the LinkedIn training, the CV writing and the mentoring, I especially value the confidence that the Finito service gives to someone in my circumstances. It was as if I was being seen for the first time. This was so encouraging for me especially given my upbringing, where my wanting to succeed was perhaps sometimes considered a bit weird. My extended family would wonder why I was in London, and why I’m in the job I’m in. This was an organisation which wanted me to succeed.”

This process of building confidence in an

individual is integral to the mentoring process. It begins from our first encounter with a new student. Houston recalls: “I remember vividly the first meeting with Ronel where I brought him my CV. When I had been in parliament I had co-founded a network for the protection of gender-critical views. I showed my leaflet to Ronel and it was an incredibly important moment, because someone was looking at my work, and taking an interest in me. It brought me an overwhelming sense of pride.”

Mentoring is to do with becoming reoriented in one’s life by coming into one’s essential self. Houston recalls that her being photographed by in-house photographer Sam Pearce continued this process. “I spent an afternoon with Sam and I noticed that she took the time to make me feel comfortable. She also took time to ask questions between pictures – it was not a transactional photoshoot, it was more an investment in who I was.”

Following on from there, Leah had her LinkedIn training with Amanda Brown (‘incredibly helpful’) and then began work with her lead mentor Tom Pauk. “He was so lovely and I was telling my heart and how I feel things deeply. He said: ‘I think you need to go into the charities sphere’. I said: ‘ I think you’re correct.’ And now I’ve landed a job with a charity which is a start-up. Tom was amazing, and gave me contacts.’

“WEALTH TO ME ISN’T MONEY. IT’S WHAT I HAD GROWING UP: I HAD FAMILY AND FRIENDSHIP AND RELATIONSHIPS AND THAT TO ME IS WEALTH.”

From Pauk’s perspective, Houston made an excellent impression. He recalls:

“Leah struck me as a highly intelligent, articulate and values-driven young woman, seeking a position where she can employ her myriad skills to improve the lives of others, especially those of women and children.” Pauk noted early on that her priority was ‘to use her lobbying skills to help bring about changes and social impact,” adding that “she is not driven by earning a high salary, though she’ll need a sustainable one.”

When the job came along it all happened very quickly ‘in the space of a week’. Houston brings me up to speed: “I now work for a charity called Forum which is based in London and has launched in America too now. Its purpose is to serve leaders and influencers from all sectors of society. It tries to link up like-minded people. I’m a data manager and administrator, which is important for Forum, as someone’s name in the database is like gold to the business. I’m also EA to the founder David Stroud, who is married to Baroness Stroud.”

So how does she see the future? “I actually don’t know,” she admits. “My life these past few years has been full of uncertainty, but I can see myself settling here for a good while. It’s a start-up with huge potential for growth and now the whole past five years makes sense.”

Amanda Brown

Tom Pauk

At the end of our interview Houston reflects a little on her journey so far.

“SHE IS SOMEONE WHO WILL MAKE HER OWN WAY –AND IN FACT IS ALREADY DOING SO”

“It’s strange to be in London and not be money-driven. Wealth to me isn’t money. It’s what I had growing up: I had family and friendship and relationships and that to me is wealth. Marriage and education is wealth.” And are her family beginning to understand the nature of her journey now? “My parents have been massively supportive, but we don’t always speak a common language. My

cousins have their own convictions and they don’t necessarily agree. But the relationships are there and really there’s so much love and support.”

One is tempted to call this attitude mature except that many people live their whole lives without realising the importance of things which Leah innately understands. She also has an immense capacity for empathy and understanding. Houston is someone whose narrative is not to be judged by the usual metrics of success: money, or position or anything else – though there’s nothing to stop her acquiring these. But she is in such a strong position because she isn’t a materialist. She is someone who will make her own way – and in fact is already doing so.

The help which Finito gave to Leah would have been impossible without

the generous help of the Stewarts Foundation. The firm’s managing partner Stuart Dench says: “In a perfect world comprehensive career guidance would be available to all regardless of their background. The Stewarts Foundation is delighted to support the important work of Finito via its bursary scheme.”

When it comes to someone like Leah, the importance is difficult to measure because it has to do with ineffable things like confidence, connectivity, and the unleashing of possibilities within a person who may not yet know how capable they are. In her case, it is also to do with helping someone to arrive at the realisation that the place they’re born in need not be a limiting factor. Ultimately it’s for us to make our own way – though it is right that we do so with the help of others.

Stuart Dench

AN INTERVIEW WITH ROBERT COLVILE

FINITO CANDIDATE CAMERON KERR INTERVIEWS SUNDAY TIMES

JOURNALIST ROBERT COLVILE ABOUT HIS CAREER

If you’re looking to have a career in journalism, you can aspire to be a good journalist, or an excellent journalist – or you can up a level and try to be Robert Colvile. Colvile is the finest political commentator in the UK, and writes a weekly column for The Sunday Times. In addition, he is Director of the Centre for Policy Studies, as well as the author of The Great Acceleration, a brilliant analysis regarding the question of why our lives are accelerating exponentially on all fronts.

But Colvile has also had to endure tragedy. His beloved wife Andrea died in 2019 after being diagnosed with autoimmune hepatitis. Colvile has since raised considerable amounts of money – over £100,000 – in order to study the condition through the Medical Research Foundation.

Cameron Kerr is a Finito candidate with a desire to be a journalist. We were therefore delighted when Colvile agreed to answer Cameron’s questions about

the career he wants for himself. This was an inspirational experience for Cameron who is now looking for his break in journalism.

CK: Is your journalism career a goal you had planned to achieve or a role that you fell into?

RC: It was never something I’d thought about until university, but I volunteered to work on one of the student papers there and absolutely loved it – not just the writing, but every part of putting together a newspaper. I did consider some other options – I applied to the Civil Service, for example – but ultimately it was always the thing I wanted to make a living doing if I could.

CK: Take us through the early days of your career, from where you first encountered opportunities in journalism, to a point in your journey where you could tell yourself or peers that you worked as a journalist for a living.

RC: I got started at university, then tried to make as much of that opportunity as possible – for example getting accreditation to the various festivals at Edinburgh over the summer, then covering them for the paper (which also enabled me to build up a stock of interviews with some of the people performing or promoting their films and books). After university I got on to a training scheme at the Observer, so I did work experience there and at The New Statesman, while supporting myself by doing admin work as a temp. Then I got some extra work helping produce the paper on Saturday evenings, and uploading the print edition on to the Guardian website, and doing paid

supplements on broadband take-up, and just anything I could do to get a foot in the door. But I wasn’t properly, formally a professional journalist until I parlayed all that into a job on The Telegraph’s training scheme, which was looking for sub-editors – the people who sit back in the office editing the articles, checking the facts, putting on the headlines and so on.

CK: Is the route you took into journalism a pathway which others could follow today, and if not, how does that entry pathway look different in 2024?

RC: The thing about journalism is that there really aren’t many formal pathways. I was lucky enough to get on to one of the Fleet Street training schemes, but the number of people they take is vanishingly small compared to the size of the sector. One of the big differences today, though, is that there are so many more opportunities to get yourself noticed by writing, tweeting, blogging, starting your own thing and

Robert Colvile

Cameron Kerr

getting noticed. One of the great things about journalism is that ultimately, quality really does shine through – if your writing is good, or you’re a good editor, people absolutely take notice.

CK: What opportunities in your career do you feel you discovered, pushed for and achieved yourself?

RC: All of them! Though in retrospect I could have done more to push myself forward while at The Telegraph – I was there for 10 years and ended up in a pretty senior position, but there were quite a few years where I was sitting there quietly chafing, for example at not being able to move full time on to the comment desk. I probably could have been bolder in agitating for a move, or trying to find opportunities elsewhere. But I’m pretty happy with how it turned out.

CK: What opportunities in your career, if any, do you feel were fortunate enough to be given to youby bosses, word of mouth, unexpected events of the day to cover etc?

RC: I’ll always owe a big debt to Liz Hunt, who’s now at The Daily Mail. As Telegraph features editor she plucked me from my sub-editing job and put me in charge of the news review section of the paper – the big, chunky, attentiongrabbing Saturday reads – as well as the science page. And then I’m pretty grateful to Maurice Saatchi, who was then the chairman of the Centre for Policy Studies, for asking me to be the Director when I was running its CapX website. But the truth about journalism is that few people have a career path plotted out – I certainly didn’t think I was going to end up running a think tank, for example. It’s very organic, about the connections you make and the reputation you build.

CK: Are there one or two defining moments/opportunities that took your career to a whole new level - they could be expected or a total surprise?

RC: The move from being a sub-

editor to an editor was definitely a step change – after that my career started moving forward much more quickly. Getting to run CapX was similar – I was freelancing as a writer, and had had quite a few discussions with people, but wasn’t really actively looking for a fulltime role. And oddly, moving into think tanks really improved my opportunities as a writer – I suddenly had not only a load more relationships in Westminster, but a massive pipeline of policy ideas that I could write about and publicise.

CK: With all your industry experience and knowledge of the state of journalism today, is it a career you would pursue now if you were starting from scratch?

RC: Yes, but with the caveat that you really do have to have a backstop these days in a way that you didn’t in the old days. There’s so much competition to get into journalism, and so little profit, that the salaries really aren’t very good, at least not until you get right to the top of it. I’m proud that I never got a penny of support from my parents, and got every single job on merit rather than due to connections. But at the same time, I knew that if it didn’t work out, I could always retrain as a lawyer or management consultant or what have you. A lot of people don’t have that safety net. And there are also always people who are prepared to work unpaid until they get hired, which is pretty tough to compete with.

CK: What does your journalism career look like today? And do you think a regular op-ed in a major newspaper is still the desirable goal to achieve for a journalist looking toward the future of their career... or does it look different now with the presence of social media, podcasts, vlogs and straight-to-web documentaries?

RC: My main job in journalism is as a political columnist on The Sunday Times – I also oversee the Centre for Policy Studies’ CapX site as editor-inchief, but that’s a much more limited

commitment, as we’ve got a good team who keep it running day-to-day. Having the column is still an incredible platform, and I’m very privileged to have it – but if I didn’t have the day job at the CPS then I would probably be doing a lot more on top of that, whether a podcast or a Substack newsletter or what have you. Ultimately, there are all kinds of ways of reaching an audience –you just have to find the one that works for you.

CK: Looking back at your career, from early steps to the big decisions, is there anything you would have done differently with the gift of hindsightperhaps even advice you would give to those starting out now?

RC: There are all kinds of things I should have done differently – mostly having a bit more confidence in myself, and in my value to my employer. But the big things would be things that I hope I got right – always try to do the best possible work, and always try to be someone other people actually want to work with.

CK: In a world of a multitude of news outlets, podcasts, opinion columns and broadcast shows, how do journalists and the media have to evolve in order to continue their mission to inform the public and hold the powerful accountable?

RC: In all kinds of ways! It’s pretty obvious that mass market news is breaking down into a host of niches. The audience for the BBC evening news, for example, has fallen off a cliff in the last few years. But the difference between when I was starting out and now is that the shadow of doom has been lifted – we were all convinced that the internet was going to kill newspapers stone dead, whereas today the kind of subscription models that the Times uses, or the revenue people are getting from Substack, shows that there is a future for high-quality journalism. But you always have to keep innovating.

LETTER FROM KILIMANJARO SOPHIA PETRIDES

As a mental fitness coach my primary goal is to assist clients in cultivating resilience, adaptability, and agility in navigating life’s inevitable challenges. I am committed to continuously enhancing my own skill set, ensuring that I can provide the highest level of service to my clients. This requires me to consistently push my own boundaries and step outside of my comfort zone. By committing to my personal development path, I enhance my own capabilities and set a positive and inspiring example for my clients. Personal growth is a never-ending quest, and my dedication to it allows me to guide my clients more effectively on their journey to achieving mental fitness. This dual focus on my development and my clients' progress creates a dynamic and powerful coaching practice.

My journey began fifteen years ago with the idea of climbing Kilimanjaro, the world’s highest free-standing mountain, famed for its diverse ecosystems—from lush rainforests to arctic ice fields—at an elevation of 5,895 meters (19,340 feet). Due to my demanding business travel schedule, this dream was put on hold. Fifteen years later, I finally decided to sign up for the climb, despite not being as fit as I was in my early 40s. It was now or never, and I saw it as an incredible opportunity to challenge my mental resilience.

Having a strong mental constitution is crucial in achieving our goals. Rafael Nadal serves as one of my inspirations. What sets champions like Nadal apart is their ability to maintain focus and win the final championship point, even after gruelling five-hour matches in the heat, when they are physically exhausted.

Upon signing up, I felt a wave of excitement and fear. My inner critic

questioned my decision, shouting, "What have you done?" Ignoring this voice, my stubborn and adventurous side reminded me, "Sophia, this is a life-changing adventure. All you can do is take one step at a time and focus on what you can control." This mindset has consistently guided me through various challenges over the years.

With determination, I devised a thorough training regimen with my personal trainer. It encompassed gym sessions, open-water swimming, and weekend hikes with a 10 kg backpack to prepare for the treks ahead. This regimen ensured I was ready to carry 4 litres of water, clothing suitable for diverse weather conditions, and ample food supplies daily.

When setting ambitious goals, it's crucial not to focus solely on the finish line. For example, during my climb of Kilimanjaro, I avoided fixating on the mountain's peak. Instead, I broke the larger goal into smaller milestones, which helped me stay motivated and empowered. Each time I reached a milestone, I celebrated the achievement before moving on to the next.

“ THIS INTROSPECTION

BROUGHT ME INNER PEACE AND A SENSE OF FREEDOM.”

Walking at my own pace and enjoying the incredible scenery was essential. As the slowest in my group, I often found myself alone on the mountain, which gave me the chance to reflect on my life and experiences. This introspection brought me inner peace and a sense of

freedom. The solitude allowed me to appreciate the journey itself, rather than just the destination. Each step became a moment of mindfulness, deepening my connection with nature and myself. By focusing on the present and breaking the challenge into manageable parts, I found the strength and resilience to keep going. This approach not only made the climb more enjoyable but also enriched my overall experience, leaving me with lasting memories and a profound sense of accomplishment. Every aspect of this journey was entirely new to me. Sleeping in my snug, warm sleeping bag often made me feel claustrophobic, and I would frequently wake up in a panic, fumbling for the opening to catch a breath of fresh air. Night after night, I struggled to get more than two hours of sleep, battling to prevent my body from slipping down the tent pitched on the mountain's steep slope. Manoeuvring inside the sleeping bag was a constant challenge, especially as I endeavoured to keep my legs elevated to alleviate the strain from walking an average of 10 hours each day over six days. Moreover, I mentally prepared myself for going without a

Sophia Petrides

shower for a week, knowing we only had enough fresh water for drinking during the hikes.

Kilimanjaro offers many routes to its peak, but I chose the Machame South Route. Known for its scenic beauty and challenging terrain, this route features varying landscapes and elevation changes each day. We climbed 1,300 meters daily to acclimatise to the altitude.

It is important to understand that even if you are in peak physical condition or have experience hiking at high altitudes, altitude sickness can strike unexpectedly. The key is to take your time and walk slowly. "Pole Pole," as your guide will remind you throughout the hike.

On July 9th, my group and I arrived at Kilimanjaro Airport after an overnight flight via Ethiopia. The next day, we drove to Machame Gate to begin our climb to Camp 1, situated at the foot of Kilimanjaro. This route led us through a lush jungle, where we occasionally glimpsed the glacier side

of the mountain peeking through the trees. Seeing this incredible mountain so close yet so far was surreal! However, I reminded myself to focus on the breathtaking scenery around me rather than the distant peak.

“CHOOSING THE RIGHT PATH WAS CRUCIAL TO SUSTAINING ENERGY LEVELS AND AVOIDING INJURIES.”

As the slowest and least experienced member of the group, I hired my own guide. From the start, it was clear that full concentration on the route was necessary. Choosing the right path was crucial to sustaining energy levels and avoiding injuries on the uneven, slippery terrain formed by volcanic lava millions of years ago.

After walking for eight hours, I arrived at Machame Camp 1, where my group members were waiting and lined up to greet me with hugs. It was such an emotional experience! I joined them for dinner before heading back to my tent to unpack, set up my sleeping bag, and prepare my clothing for the next day.

As I prepared for the journey, I dedicated myself to understanding and supporting my body's daily recovery. Throughout the hikes, I remained attentive to my body's signals, ensuring I stayed hydrated and well-nourished to maintain peak cognitive and physical performance. Using empowerment cards, I had prepared beforehand, I kept myself motivated and focused during challenging moments. I carefully monitored my food intake to sustain high energy levels and prevent issues like nausea and dehydration, knowing my body was expending an average of 4,000 calories per day.

Throughout the trip, we were fortunate to have an exceptional chef

who prepared freshly cooked meals for breakfast, dinner, and snacks during our climbs. Our menu was thoughtfully designed to include complex carbohydrates. For breakfast, we enjoyed toast with peanut butter, pancakes drizzled with maple syrup, and African porridge made from maize meal. Adjusting to this highcarbohydrate diet was challenging for me, as my typical diet at home is rich in protein and fibre, including meat, vegetables, and fruits. By the third day, I found myself struggling with reduced appetite and had to consciously push

myself to consume carbs to maintain my energy levels.

The first significant mental and physical challenge I faced was on Day 3 of our journey, from Shira 2 Camp (3,810 meters) to Baranco Camp 3 (3,950 meters), hiking via Lava Tower at 4,600 meters. The terrain dramatically shifted from vibrant landscapes with birds and flowers to an exposed, rocky, and dry environment with no vegetation or wildlife. It felt like walking on another planet.

As I neared 4,000 meters, it felt as though my oxygen supply had been cut

off. Gasping for air, my body felt heavy, and lifting my legs became an arduous task. Panic crept in, and I halted, informing my guide that I needed a few moments to gather myself. Reflecting briefly, I debated whether to retreat or persevere despite the thinning oxygen levels. I closed my eyes and entered a state of self-hypnosis, mentally communicating with my body. I envisioned my lungs full of oxygen and my muscles powered up for the remaining 600 meters to our rest point.

“WHEN I OPENED MY EYES, A NEWFOUND ENERGY SURGED THROUGH ME. I ADJUSTED MY WALKING RHYTHM TO KEEP MY HEART RATE STABLE AND REACHED LAVA TOWER.”

When I opened my eyes, a newfound energy surged through me. I adjusted my walking rhythm to keep my heart rate stable and reached Lava Tower (4,600 meters) with relative ease, feeling proud of my accomplishment. After a short rest and a quick lunch, we began the challenging descent. The rocky terrain was painful, especially as I had developed Morton’s Neuroma in my left foot, requiring me to balance carefully to avoid pressure on the affected area.

As we neared Baranco Camp, only 300 meters from our campsite, we faced a steep climb. Exhausted, I couldn't go any further. Our guide called the chef to bring us dinner—vegetarian pizza with hot courgette soup—which revived me like a dose of spinach to Popeye. Re-energized, I tackled the

final hurdle without a break. This experience underscored the importance of nutrition and mental fitness. Upon arrival, my group leader hugged and congratulated me, and I collapsed into my sleeping bag, sleeping deeply for a few hours.

On Wednesday, July 13th, I woke up at Baranco Camp (3,950 meters) on my birthday. Stepping outside my tent, my guide surprised me with a fresh apple—a luxury in such conditions. As we hugged, I noticed small figures climbing the rocky grey mountain ahead, realising with dread that this was our next challenge. This was the Baranco Wall, with an elevation of 257 metres (843 feet) high.

After another gruelling 10 hours of hiking various rocky terrains, reaching Karanga Camp 4 (4,000 meters) was a huge relief.

The next day's hike to Camp 5—Barafu Camp (4,600 meters)—was thankfully easier, allowing me to arrive by 2:00 PM, eat, sleep, and prepare for the final ascent starting at 11:00 PM. However, the limited rest did not fully recuperate me from the previous days' exertions. Waking at 8:30 PM for dinner, the temperature had dropped to minus 6 degrees Celsius. I developed a cough

and felt fluid in my lungs, doubting my ability to reach the peak but determined to try.

As the slowest, I began the ascent at 10:30 PM with two guides. The steep, slippery terrain in the pitch dark, with minus 10 degrees Celsius and a 30-mph wind chill, was daunting. My oxygen level dropped to 60% at 4,800 meters, making me extremely sleepy—a bizarre and dangerous sensation. Despite fighting to stay awake, my cough worsened, and the cold penetrated my seven layers of clothing. Realising the risk, I decided to change my goal to 5,000 meters to avoid endangering myself and my guides.

Reaching just over 5,100 meters, I stopped with mixed tears of disappointment and pride. I had achieved a significant goal despite not reaching the summit. After a moment of reflection, we began the challenging descent. Exhausted and oxygen deprived, I had to stay focused to avoid injury. We arrived back at Camp 5 at 8:00 AM, witnessing an incredible sunrise on Mount Kilimanjaro. Due to my weakened condition, we arranged a helicopter rescue. At 2:00 PM, I was flown to a private hospital, diagnosed with hypothermia and

pulmonary edema, and started on antibiotics. Thankfully, I recovered within a few days, able to enjoy the rest of the trip.

“YOU HAVE WHAT IT TAKES. I FACED MY KILIMANJARO, AND SO CAN YOU.”

Back in the realm of the familiar, the lessons from Kilimanjaro burned brightly within me. Whenever I guided a client through a mental challenge, I spoke with unshakeable certainty: "You have what it takes. I faced my Kilimanjaro, and so can you." Though the thin air may dissipate, the steadfast determination etched into that mountain's face continues to empower me and my clients to surmount the limits of our minds and conquer our personal summits.

If you are looking for support to push through challenges and develop the mental fitness needed to achieve your personal and professional goals, you can reach Sophia at: sophia@petrides.consulting.

LETTER FROM BUDAPEST

TOM PAUK

I’mwriting at our table in the New York Café, Budapest, although to call this Renaissance-style former insurance hall a café seems at best irreverent. I’ve just polished off a cavernous bowl of somloi galuska, Hungarian trifle made with walnuts, chocolate and cream, soaked in apricot brandy, and am ready for my siesta.

I’m here with my wife Rachel in Hungary’s capital visiting friends and relatives. My parents fled the country during the 1956 Uprising, so it’s an opportunity for me to practice my rusty Hungarian, a dauntingly opaque language linked only to Finnish and Estonian.

“BUDAPEST IS ABOVE ALL A CITY OF BRIDGES, SEVEN IN ALL.”

Budapest is above all a city of bridges, seven in all, connecting the commercial side, Pest, with the leafy hills of Buda, dominated by Castle Hill with its steep, cobbled alleys, atop which the imposing

Castle, Fisherman’s Bastion and magnificent Matthias Church.

During your visit you’ll often find yourself crossing the Danube to take in this stunningly beautiful city and walk off the calories. The most famous crossing is the picture postcard Széchenyi Chain Bridge; designed by an Englishman, constructed by a Scot!

Pest is home also to Hungary’s 286 metre-long neo-Gothic Parliament (or Országház) in Kossuth Square. Popular with tourists it’s well worth the visit, and the No. 2 tram and Line 2 metro stop right outside. If you’ve been to Vienna you’ll be reminded of its architectural doppelganger, Vienna’s gothic City Hall. Prior to WW2, Budapest was home to one of Europe’s largest Jewish communities. The first anti-Jewish laws of the century had been passed in 1938; Jews were banned from working in government and editing newspapers, and only six per cent. of lawyers, doctors and engineers were permitted to be Jewish. The events that followed Nazi Germany’s invasion of Hungary in March 1944 need no retelling here, suffice to say that my own family on both maternal and paternal sides was profoundly impacted.

The Dohány Street (or Great) Synagogue (closest metro stop Astoria), built in an Arabic-Moorish style (check out those Alhambra-like domed towers), remains Europe’s largest with a capacity of 3,000 worshippers. A visit (guided and private tours can be booked on-line, or just buy a ticket and wander around) takes in the synagogue itself, memorial gardens and the Hungarian Jewish museum on the site of the house where Theodor Herzl was born. Especially poignant is the Emanuel Tree (or Weeping Willow) Memorial, which has the names of thirty-thousand Holocaust victims inscribed on its metal leaves.

Do also visit the Cipők a Duna-parton (Shoes Memorial) roughly half-way between Parliament and Széchenyi Chain Bridge on the Pest embankment. The sixty pairs of iron shoes, boots and sandals commemorate the hundreds of Budapest Jews lined up and shot into the Danube by the Hungarian Fascist Militia in December 1944. My father, then only eight, was one of those rounded up for execution.

Mercifully, he was able to run away and avoid recapture.

Dohány Street marks the border of the former Budapest Ghetto within Budapest’s District 7, an area now popular for its specialist coffee shops, falafel bars, craft beers and quirky shops. While there, admire the fusion of Judeo-Art Nouveau of the orthodox synagogue, and stop off for a

superb flat white at Stika.

Budapest is famous for the wellbeing properties of its thermal water. The city sits on a geological fault line with hundreds of thermal springs. The Turks built a number of Hamman-style baths, three of which, Rudas, Király and Veli Bej, operate today. However, for the full spa experience head over to either of Széchenyi and Gellért

Baths, built in the early 20th century, for a full range of treatments, and wonderful swimming pools.

Hungarian politics. Hmm. Hungary continues to struggle with ... let’s politely call them some idiosyncratic views, probably as a result of being a nation subjugated over the centuries by successive invaders (Ottoman, Austro-

Hungarian, Soviet) and now struggling to assert its own identity. Happily, as a visitor you’ll be oblivious to the country’s growing political radicalisation on the global stage, and unless you’ve a good grasp of Hungarian you’ll miss the controversial political narrative on posters and billboards.

Where to stay? Sure, you could check in to one of the usual 5* suspects, but Budapest has an abundance of boutique hotels and Airbnb properties. On one memorable visit Rachel and I stayed at Brody House, a former artists’ salon now a quirky boutique hotel in which each of the ten rooms has been decorated by a different artist.

If your visit is for more than a long weekend, a half-day in the small baroque town of Szentendre along the banks of the Danube (40 minutes on the H5 local train from Margit Bridge) provides a wonderful escape from the bustle of the city on a hot summer’s day. With its narrow cobblestoned streets, art galleries, coffee shops and churches, Szentendre is home also to the Szamos Csokoládé Múzeum (Museum of Chocolate).

Go there! your waistline won’t thank me but trust me, you will.

On the subject of food, traditional Hungarian restaurants abound, and with the forint weak against Sterling and US$ you’ll find prices generally low by say London standards. I’d suggest avoiding the glitzy eateries along the Pest embankment and up on Castle Hill in favour of more authentic places like Café Kor, Két Szerecsen and, for a modern take on Hungarian classic cuisine, Szaletly. Reserving a table is always wise; Budapest is busy all year round.

Back at the New York Café our waitress has arrived at our table. Would we like the bill, she enquires, more in hope than in expectation, her eye on the growing queue of impatient faces that now snakes back to the main entrance. Not just yet, I reply. Could I please see the menu again? That raspberry and pistachio tart looks rather tempting.

Unsplash.com

MORE BUDAPEST TOP TIPS:

1. ABSOLUTELY take the number 2 tram (Pest side) on its stunningly scenic 20-minute meander from Közvágóhíd to Jászai Mari Square at the Margit Bridge. For 450 forint (under a quid!) you’ll take in many of the major Budapest landmarks. When you disembark, walk half-way across the bridge to Margit Island, a one-kilometre green oasis equivalent to say Hyde or Central Park. It will take you a pleasant hour or so to circumnavigate.

2. Download the BudapestGo app to purchase e-tickets for bus, tube and tram. Alternatively, buy books of ten from ticket machines (4,000 forint or roughly £8.50). A word of caution: ticket inspectors are both ruthless and abundant, and all tickets (paper and digital) must be validated in a designated machine to avoid incurring a hefty penalty fare.

3. Also download the Főtaxi taxi app, Budapest’s cheap and reliable equivalent to Uber. Főtaxi is also the official provider of taxi services to and from Budapest Airport. Fares are transparent and reasonable. Bolt also operates in the city.

4. Budapest is a walker’s paradise (wear comfortable shoes) and do go strolling after dark.

CULTURE

The lighter side of employability

108 | RIGHT ON THE MONET:

Impressionism at 150 Wikipedia.org

MEETING OF MINDS When Tom Met Brin

Wikipedia.org

YOU CAN CALL ME PAUL Simon’s late style 116

Wikipedia.org

JAPAN JOBS Careers in the land of sushi 132

WHEN TOM MET BRIN

IN A SPECIAL COSTEAU, THE 2024 MASTERCHEF CHAMPION

BRIN PIRATHAPAN AND FORTNUM & MASON CEO TOM ATHRON ARE BROUGHT TOGETHER ON THE THIRD FLOOR AT THE FAMOUS PICCADILLY STORE

The real joy of networking isn’t to meet people for oneself: it’s introducing people to one another. When the opportunity came up to interview Brin Pirathapan, the brilliant Tamil Sri Lankan winner of 2024’s MasterChef, we put heads together at Finito, with help from Janine Stow at The Quorum Network, to decide what to do about it. The answer came in a flash of inspiration: Fortnum & Mason is being altered by its brilliant CEO Tom Athron, and the third floor, formerly the menswear floor, is now set up for food experiences. There is a gin bar, and a cooking area where the store hosts masterclasses, as well as the beautiful Fortnum & Mason culinary products.

Once we’d decided that might be a good idea, we thought we’d go one further and interview Brin and Tom together and see whether anything came of it. Brin is there as I arrive, looking resplendent in the sort of outfit which Federer used to wear at Wimbledon in his pomp. So I ask Brin if it was always food for him? “I have always loved food. I almost took it for granted because my parents always cooked so well. The table was always full of delicious Tamil Sri Lankan food.” Perhaps unknowingly a standard had been set. “When I went to university,” Pirathapan continues, “there wasn't really a conscious decision that I was going to learn to cook: it was just a thing that happened. I wasn't willing

to eat the same bland meal plan every day. But I didn't have the funding or the finances to be going out for food all the time or to be buying the most expensive ingredients. That situation created the chef that I am today.”

“I WASN'T WILLING TO EAT THE SAME BLAND MEAL PLAN EVERY

DAY.”

Let’s be clear what this wasn’t: it wasn’t a decision not to have that Deliveroo. It was more financially constrained than that. “I never had the option of the lazy route. I would cook instead of having a

takeaway just because I had to: it was either that or cook boring meals. I never leant towards takeaways. I thought: ‘I can probably do it as nice or nicer myself and learn a new skill’.”

At that time, Brin can have had no way of knowing where it would lead. “Really, I like to eat!” he says simply. “I like nice food and I wanted to do it myself. It was essentially self-reliance and learning a skill. I started cooking for friends, when they came over for dinner. And they’d compliment me. I’d want to do more because it was nice when people said I’d done a good job.”

It seems as though we all need to find that thing in life where we feel there’s no particular ceiling: that we can continue to develop across the whole course of a life. “Something about food makes me want to learn more and more about it. You'd watch people on television or online and the chef has these intricate skills. And I wanted to know how to do that: I was so invested in it. So it probably comes back to just it being a pure passion that I wanted to be good at.”

“I'D BEEN A VETERINARY SURGEON FOR A GOOD FEW YEARS, AND I DIDN'T NECESSARILY THINK FOOD WAS EVER GOING TO GIVE ME A NEW CAREER.”

It’s as if you find a thread in life – and it’s not that you’re pulling it, but it pulls on you and leads you on. “It seemed a bit unsafe. I’d been planning on working in veterinary. When you do that, at least by the age of 15 you’re already committing time; you're committing your holidays to work experience and you're committing your evenings to studying. It's quite hard when you are within those walls of a structured education and a structured career to dream outside, because it seems really unsafe. And let's be honest, the food industry isn't exactly the safest industry to be in. It's tough – but MasterChef has given me the platform now.

Brin has long been a fan of MasterChef so it was a huge thing to apply for the show. “I've watched it since I was a young age, and it's made me the chef I am today. When I started the show, I was so worried about being knocked out in the first round. But my fiancé was very firm – she’d seen me moaning about my normal job.”

I say I find it hard to imagine being able to focus on cooking when the cameras are rolling. “It would have been impossible to play to the camera,” he says. “Every dish I created I pushed myself to the absolute max – so timings were incredibly tight. Obviously within each cook, you need to have an interview with the judges too – other than that, there was no room for error, and I got used to the cameras being there. I needed to know there was no time left over for each cook – that there was physically and mentally nothing more that I could have done.”

But even here – he didn’t know how far it would take him; but he had found his passion. “I'd been a veterinary surgeon for a good few years, and I didn't necessarily think food was ever going to give me a new career. But I think I knew that if I didn't give MasterChef a go, I would never be able to make it a reality.” Paul Joyce, Banana Study

Reminding myself of the formidable MasterChef judges John Torode and Gregg Wallace, I ask whether their verdict ever affected his concentration. “It's hard – especially at the start. When they come round, all you're thinking is: “Do they think I'm doing this wrong?” You start questioning yourself. But as you get to know them, they're actually very good at calming you down, and

making sure you're relaxed.”

I find it hard to imagine Torode or Wallace in calming mode. What stays with Brin is the long silence when the judges give their verdict. “From the first cook to the last, that silence when they are eating, to when they say their first words – that will haunt me. It was an eternity, and it never got easier.”

It all came down to the last cook, and I think the way in which Brin approached the most important moment of his life speaks volumes about his character. “I’d felt so proud to have just gotten to the final and I felt that no matter what, I now had a platform to make a new career in something I love. I wanted to show the judges what my journey in that competition had been – and what the competition had given me. So within every course, you could see multiple elements that reflected a certain dish or a certain opportunity we were given, or a restaurant we went into.”

It is that humility, combined with a willingness to learn which seems to mark out Brin, that place no limits on a person’s potential development. There is throughout our conversation a sheer fascination with cooking – the timings, the sourcing, the service – everything. When we come onto Brin’s famous octopus dish he is fascinating about the complexities of making the dish work. “It’s a difficult meat to cook actually. It's really easy to make an octopus tough and you want a good couple of hours, but in the MasterChef kitchen you only have an hour and a half. So then you also add in the difficulty of cooking it within a pressure cooker, which can change its texture – and the thing about that is that it’s blind – you can't see what's going on inside.”

I could listen for hours to anybody talking with passion about the detail of what makes them love what they're doing. Brin continues: “Five extra minutes in a pressure cooker is probably the equivalent of a half an hour of standard cooking. So there's

a lot of margin for error and the texture is one of the main aspects in an octopus. It's a little bit like a scallop. It's really easy to get that texture wrong.” You can see why someone who can talk like this will have a long and exciting career: because they’re interested in the task itself, independent of any reward it may bring.

“FIVE EXTRA MINUTES IN A PRESSURE COOKER IS PROBABLY THE EQUIVALENT OF A HALF AN HOUR OF STANDARD COOKING.”

As Brin went through the competition, he kept his head down, until he found himself caught up in that iconic

moment when the winner is about to be announced. “Throughout the entire process, I didn't allow myself to look too far ahead. When I look back, I think one of the reasons I did well was because I didn't give myself the pressure of dreaming about winning. I was simply thinking of the need to execute everything to the best of my ability. So when they did call my name, it was more of a shock than I can ever imagine.”

And, of course, in that moment –even longer in reality than it looks on television, according to Brin – he was crossing over from one world into another, one of considerable opportunity. Surveying the landscape of options now, Brin is characteristically level-headed and sensible: “I don't think you have to win MasterChef and open a restaurant immediately. The food industry in 2024 is so much broader than what it was probably 20 years ago, which is so exciting for me because I think in my life I need variety anyway, to keep interested. Private dining and

supper clubs are really interesting to me. They're the areas where I can show off, kind of going back to when my friends used to come to dinner. I've loved all the services that I've done throughout the show and any private dining I've done afterwards. So I want private dining to be a decent portion of what I do, and I'd also love to write a book.”

There is a sense then in which Brin is going full circle – or rather, moving forwards without forgetting where he came from. “The reason I want to write a book is because, going back to how I started cooking, you can cook amazing food without having to stretch your budget. And it can be very cost-effective. We're at a time now where people are struggling, because ingredients are so expensive. I want to convey that in a book, but also want to give that content to people online for free, as a way of acknowledging that that’s how I learned myself. I would see these incredible chefs doing amazing dishes – all these techniques I'd never seen – and then I'd go read about it and work it out myself.

So if that's the way I learned I'd like other people to learn that way too. So creating that content online that's going to be really accessible for people to go and do that themselves is going to have to be a large part of what I do as well.”

By this point Tom Athron has joined, and there is a period where the pair of them are introduced, and huddle together. I have a moment to consider the pair: the latest star in the world of cooking, and the CEO of a business which began in 1707. But I find that the two of them seem to fit in some way: that’s because Brin clearly has such respect for people and is so hungry to learn – and because Athron, as I shall discover when he sits down, is bent on driving Fortnum & Mason forwards towards the future.

Athron is immediately kind about Brin – and explains how right it is that they should be sitting next to one another. “When I joined – and my predecessor actually did the same thing – we’d

been asking ourselves as a business some existential questions about what we want to be, what we want to stand for, and who we are. Over the last ten years or so, we’ve become less of a department store, and more of a business which sells extraordinary food and drink.”

For Athron, having Brin here is a moment to reflect on that journey: “Ten years ago, no one would have thought to bring a MasterChef winner into Fortnum’s, and yet now it seems a natural fit.”

He gestures at the surrounding floor, as if to gauge the extent of the change. “This whole floor used to be menswear,” Athron says. “But in our quest to become a food business, and to become famous for extraordinary food and drink, our thinking was that that menswear was probably a category of products as a retailer that's too far out from that particular core. So it's not that I want everything here to be food, but it needs to be sort of connected

within concentric circles. And it just felt to me that menswear was a sort of a circle too far out.

Once this decision was taken, Athron had 1000 square feet to play with, and had to decide what to do with it. “We had to think not so much as a retailer, but more as a brand-owner and contentproducer. We needed a space that was going to allow us to showcase our talents – and the talents of chefs around the country. We have 100 chefs who work in this building – but they’re all secreted away behind the walls in the kitchens and nobody sees the mastery and the craftmanship which goes into making the food – and all the stuff that we see on MasterChef.”

So Athron is a MasterChef fan? “It is such a watchable, brilliant show,” he enthuses. “That’s because what you're seeing is what used to happen behind closed doors. You never really saw the skill that goes into it. So what we wanted to do was create a space that allowed us to show off our mastery a bit and show

off our craftsmanship. So again, I was just talking to Brin saying that this food and drink studio is glassed off, and that counter over there behind the pillar is actually a chilled top, which is brilliant for pastry work. The idea is that if you're a customer walking around in the morning, you probably will see chefs from the tea salon prepping food for that day on that counter. They might be making Scotch eggs or macaroons – and just showing customers a bit of the work that goes on here. A lot of the food that they buy here is actually made in Piccadilly – it's not just brought in.”

The rise of online shopping, and of Amazon in particular, has taught many shops that they need to be offering experiences which set them apart. “Our customers are looking for a bit of theatre,” Athron says. “Retailers don't just exist to sell product. They exist to provide experiences. In here, we have our “Conversations With” series, and we’ll have 50 or so people in here in conversation about, say, Borough Market, and why that started and why tinned fish is the most incredible products that we should be all eating more of. We can do book launches, masterclasses, supper clubs, all sorts of things. It’s just brought the whole floor to life.”

Fortnum & Mason was founded in 1707 when Queen Anne was on the throne – and I wonder what it is she’d recognise about the business if she were permitted to walk through London today? “William Fortnum was a footman to the Queen, and he asked for permission to take the candles that had been melted down in St. James's Palace, and took the wax away to reconstitute them as new candles – and he sold them on this very spot. And so we still sell candles to this day, largely as a nod to that, even though candles is probably a step away from food although I can actually make quite a strong connection to it.”

“I’M

INTERESTED IN THOSE CONCENTRIC CIRCLES THAT SIT AROUND FOOD.”

I ask Athron about this and he says: “One of the things that we do in the Food and Drinks studio, for example, is a masterclass on how to dress a table for Christmas. I’m interested in those concentric circles that sit around food. We want to make Fortnum's joyous and I think food really lends itself to that. We are a luxury business, and aim to be at the pinnacle of food and drink – but I don’t think of luxury in the same way as Bond Street thinks about luxury. We’re not exclusive: we’re warm and welcoming and friendly and inclusive. Quite soon after I joined, we had a chef down from Cumbria whose first course was this chicken wing. And it was a Korean chicken wing, and we had 100 people on the ground floor all eating chicken with their fingers – it was the world’s best chicken wing, but it was also just a chicken wing.”

Many customers at Fortnum & Mason love the packaging but Athron realises that what the packaging contains must make good on the promise of how the brand’s produce is presented: “We're not a packaging business. We're a food business and the most important thing to me is that the food justifies the label. And I would never want us to get into a situation where the label justifies the food. When I joined, we brought in a new commercial director who's responsible for all our buying and merchandising. I sent him a hamper to say: ‘Welcome to the job’. I thought I was going to get a thank you letter but actually he wrote to me to say the shortbread was overbaked. I remember thinking: ‘That’s exactly why you're coming’. The food has to stand up to scrutiny.”

This new attitude to the business has enabled Athron to think creatively about where the brand is seen. We've got three shops in London in addition to the Piccadilly store: there’s one at Terminal Five at Heathrow, one of St Pancras and one at the Royal Exchange in the city. But we want to give people access to the Fortnum's brand outside London. The online business is one way of doing that: another way of doing it is to show up in slightly unexpected places. So you might think that you know we should be at Glyndebourne or Ascot – and actually we are at Ascot. But we also like turning up at Glastonbury.”

Last summer, Fortnum & Mason did a pop-up in Watergate Bay in Cornwall. “We had this beautiful beach house, beautifully decked out with lots of things that you can buy – picnic equipment and rugs and all sorts of accessories. But in August, there was a storm and in conjunction with the high tide, it all got washed away. We thought: ‘What are we going to do? Maybe we should just come back to London?’ But then we thought: ‘No. This is what a British beach holiday is like. What you do is you rebuild and then you sit there in the rain’. And we did. And actually, the weather was so good in September and October that we ended up extending the season. It was the best thing we ever did.”

During Athron’s tenure, the business has pivoted towards 70 per cent on the domestic side – a trend which, Athron says, was already in evidence before he came into the job. “Ten years ago, it was about 70 per cent international customers and 30 per cent domestic, although it depends a bit on the time of year: in the summer we tend to be much more international because it's a big tourist influx into London, but at Christmas we're much more domestic. But we need to appeal to a domestic audience and if you do that, the international customers will come anyway. If I position to foreigners as a tourist brand, no one from Britain will ever want to come here; I want it to be the other way around.”

So what are the career paths for young people, looking to work at Fortnum’s?

“You can you start in one of our restaurants or one of our shops. In fact, most people do that. My view is that the very best retailers in the country are typically those people who started stacking shelves. Providing careers to those sorts of people is hugely important. So you can so you can start in the shop, or you can start in our cocktail bar.”

“MY VIEW IS THAT THE VERY BEST RETAILERS IN THE COUNTRY ARE TYPICALLY THOSE PEOPLE WHO STARTED STACKING SHELVES.”

But there are office jobs as well. “There are lots of ways into the industry: buying and merchandising is a really good way and we have a lot of young people who want to get into social media marketing and actually we tend to find young people to do that for us because they are much more savvy about what works and what doesn't work.”

Athron enjoys walking through the store in order to see how things are working: “We’re a small business and so we're lucky in that respect. So you can definitely spot talent, and you can sort of move them through the business. There's a lot of what my dad used to call management by wandering about: in retailing and in restaurants you have to do that. If you do, you spot mirrors that aren't straight or shelves that are empty.”

So how does Athron manage his time as CEO? “It’s a constant juggle,” he says. “This is my first role as a CEO though I've been on an interim basis before but previously I’ve been a finance director. I was the CFO at Waitrose for many years and I knew what I needed to do

and what I needed to spend my time on: it was quite defined. Even though, as a CFO, you have a view across the whole business, my output was defined. The great thing about finance is that it works in a set rhythm and you know what you need to be doing at any particular time of the year. With the CEO role, it's different because you can apply yourself in any area, and so I have to make sure I’m giving equal air time to the whole business, and not just gravitating towards the sparkly fun bits.”

It sounds rather similar to what one sees in politics when the Chancellor of the Exchequer becomes Prime Minister. “I do find that I go from a budget meeting into a meeting about what the summer campaign is going to look like, and into an ice cream tasting. And then back to what we're going to do with the apprenticeship levy: each day is incredibly varied.” Coming from the CFO side also means that Athron has to, in his own words, avoid being too technocratic: “I’m married to an artist, who is creative and chaotic. So I spend quite a lot of time thinking about not trying to tidy everything up, but trying to give room for people to express

themselves: that’s incredibly important in a business like this.”

Would Athron ever participate in MasterChef? “I wouldn’t! I watch it and of course I do what everyone does, which is become an armchair expert, and say: ‘Well that's never going to work, is it? Ultimately what Brin does is a creative endeavour, I think. When I cook, I follow a recipe and it's a logical endeavour.

And what will the future hold for Brin? “I’m self-taught and so I’ve still got gaps in my knowledge. I just want to continue to learn in years to come. I need to make sure I've learned enough and mature enough. If I start a restaurant, I want it to be the best. Now's not the right time.”

But happily, it is the right time for lunch – and I am pleased to see Tom and Brin head off for discussions which I suspect will prove fruitful for both of them. They certainly look like they have much to discuss – and more than that perhaps, work to do together.

IMPRESSIONISM AT 150

CHRISTOPHER JACKSON

If you go to the National Gallery in London and visit, say, Room 32, where Mannerism is represented, there’s a good chance you’ll have it more or less to yourself. The same will likely be true if you walk past all those Renis and Guercinos and into Room 33, where Chardin’s Card-Players typically hangs. Things will likely get a little more crowded as you swing by the great British landscape painters in Room 34 – JMW Turner and John Constable.

But something will happen as you enter Room 35: that’s because you’ve entered a room full of Impressionism. Come rain or shine, this will be the busiest part of the gallery. You probably won’t have Cézanne’s views of Mont Sainte-

Victoire or any of the many Monets to yourself for very long, and you won’t have Vincent Van Gogh’s Sunflowers to yourself at all. Something has happened: you have crossed over.

Why is Impressionism, which loosely speaking turns 150 this year, such a big deal? None of the painters, with the possible exception of Vincent, had a natural talent to equal Rembrandt. I don’t think any of them create awe in the viewer as Turner does. If you want the oddities of daily life, you’ve got other Dutch painters like Hendrick Avercamp and Johannes Vermeer. For spiritual power, nothing beats Piero Della Francesca. But if the numbers tell the truth, something about these pictures makes us need them more than

all of them put together.

One possible explanation is that they’re closer to us in time. The Impressionist movement was a response to the great essay ‘The Painter of Modern Life’ written by Charles Baudelaire in 1860, and which created a huge impact at a time when reading was the primary mode of entertainment. In this, the poet pleaded with artists to show the distinctive beauty of the modern world. The paintings in the Louvre, he says: …represent the past; it is to the painting of modern manners that I wish to address myself today. The past is interesting not only for the beauty extracted from it by those artists for whom it was their present, but also, being past, for its historical value. It is the same with the

Impression, Sunrise (1872). Oil on canvas, 48 × 63 cm (18.9 × 24.8 in). Musée Marmottan Monet, Paris

present. The pleasure we derive from the representation of the present is due not merely to the beauty with which it can be invested but also to its essential quality of being present.

It is this ‘essential quality of being present’ which I think makes the crowds in the National Gallery flock in such numbers to these pictures.

Admittedly the modern world meant something rather different in 1874 to what it means today, but still there is a sense in which these essentially secular images of pleasure and leisure chime. Though they might be low on depicting things like computer modems or airports, nevertheless they feel psychologically similar in some way to our own lives: they somehow have a legacy in us. It was the critic Louis Leroy who said after the first Impressionist exhibition in a somewhat derogatory way that the artists in the exhibition seemed intent on creating an

‘impression’ – by which he really meant a sketch:

“I WAS JUST TELLING MYSELF THAT, SINCE I WAS IMPRESSED, THERE HAD TO BE SOME IMPRESSION IN IT.”

Impression I was certain of it. I was just telling myself that, since I was impressed, there had to be some impression in it — and what freedom, what ease of workmanship! A preliminary drawing for a wallpaper pattern is more finished than this seascape.

This is the authentic note of the misfiring critic, who doesn’t even know that they have missed the main point, and so must satirise in a self-

admiring vacuum. What Leroy failed to understand was that the world was now in a state of permanent psychological revolution, and that it would from now on move inexorably in the direction of hurry. We still live like this – dimly aware, even as we dash to the next meeting, that we have not enough time. The eye too is in a hurry, never still, blinking continually, and alert to the latest shift. It too makes impressions. It was the Australian critic Clive James who towards the end of his life recalled his early time in Florence and the sight of the Bardi spire rising up over the medieval streets: “Glimpses are all you ever get,” he wrote. Leroy misunderstood that when it came to Impressionism, glimpses were being elevated to the realm of permanent art.

In doing all this, as Leroy also missed, a new attitude towards light was established and I think this is what really makes these pictures so exciting,

Auguste Renoir - Dance at Le Moulin de la Galette

and which gives them their addictive charge. Of course, all paintings have something to do with light: whenever you’re painting anything at all, you’re painting that – otherwise you wouldn’t be in the privileged position of being able to see. But Impressionism – and this is especially true of Claude Monet (1840-1926) – seems to mark a new kind of interest in light. Monet looks on water in a way different to the way in which, say, Leonardo da Vinci gave it his intention: in his Water Lilies, he wants to break it down, and consider what constitutes reflection and what amounts to water – and crucially, what that elusive entity light has to do with that relationship.

It is often said that Impressionism was the natural offshoot of photography. And so it was. But people rarely say how that relationship worked: the invention of the camera made people realise that the act of seeing was a more complicated business than had been supposed. The photographic image felt too clinical. Really, it was a kind of abstraction and this sent artists back to themselves.

If this amounted to a sort of crisis, it

was a very exciting one. The sense of juxtaposition between a photograph’s verdict and the human eye’s experience meant that artists were suddenly compelled to consider the constituents of the world. They were helped in this by the way in which science had developed, especially with John Dalton’s discovery of the electron, and its secret and peculiar mystical vibrations.

“IT IS FULL OF AN INFECTIOUS ENTHUSIASM FOR THE VISIBLE WORLD.”

But we tend to view Impressionism through a particular lens: we know that it would lead in time to the further fragmentation of Cubism and Abstraction. This in turn reminds us that Impressionism could easily have been a boring philosophical development – as did in fact happen to its successors. We do not flock to the work of Georges Braque – in fact, if it

comes to that, I don’t think we really flock to Picasso. It’s all too intellectual and young artists should note how it is no coincidence that in avoiding this, the Impressionists have endured in a way the others haven’t.

But critics of the time did notice, with considerable prescience, the philosophical radicalism of Impressionism, if they usually failed to note the extent to which this was an underpinning and never intended to distract from the pleasure given to the viewer. The critic Theodore Duret wrote of Monet that he was “no longer painting merely the immobile and permanent aspect of a landscape but its fleeting appearances which the accidents of atmosphere present”.

This might have been true but it was a merely incidental truth. A sheer love of looking is what makes Impressionism so popular: it is full of an infectious enthusiasm for the visible world. The Impressionists knew that what they saw, faithfully interacted with, was enough. As Monet put it, with his legendary cantankerousness: “Everyone discusses my art and pretends to understand, as if it were necessary to

Claude Monet - Stacks of Wheat (End of Summer) - 1985

A M U L T I - A W A R D - W I N N I N G H I G H E N D R E S I D E N T I A L I N T E R I O R D E S

F o r 1 7 y e a r s , L E I V A R S h a s c r a f t e d s t u n n i n g i n t e r i o r s d r i v e n b y a p a s s i o n f o r d e s i g n a n d a n

u n w a v e r i n g c o m m i t m e n t t o c l i e n t s . O u r t e a m c r e a t e s h o m e s t h a t a r e n o t o n l y u n i q u e b u t

a l s o l i v e a b l e , s t r i k i n g t h e p e r f e c t b a l a n c e b e t w e e n l u x u r y a n d c o m f o r t W e b e l i e v e e v e r y

p r o j e c t s h o u l d r e f l e c t t h e c l i e n t a t i t s c o r e , m a k i n g e a c h s p a c e a s p e r s o n a l a s i t i s b e a u t i f u l

U n d e r t h e l e a d e r s h i p o f f o u n d e r R e b e c c a L e i v a r s , o u r s t u d i o o f f e r s a b r o a d s p e c t r u m o f

s e r v i c e s t a i l o r e d t o f i t y o u r n e e d s F r o m f u l l - s c a l e r e n o v a t i o n s a n d b e s p o k e j o i n e r y , t o a

c u r a t e d b u y i n g a n d s t y l i n g s e r v i c e , w e e n s u r e e v e r y d e t a i l i s s e a m l e s s l y m a n a g e d

s t u d i o @ l e i v a r s . c o m w w w . l e i v a r s . c o m

understand, when it is simply necessary to love.”

Given all this, what contemporaries noted was that new aspects of life had been incorporated as subject matter by this new movement. Most of the references to classical mythology which had characterised the Impressionists’ great predecessor Jean-AugusteDominique Ingres (1780-1867) were gone (though they recur occasionally in canvases like Manet’s ‘Olympia’), so were the grand battles and historical scenes preferred by Eugène Delacroix (1798-1863).

Instead, the Impressionists depicted life’s intimate unfolding: in time they would give us the look of a haystack (Monet), an afternoon lazing by the Seine (Seurat), women bathing (Dégas), ballet-dancers practising their moves (Dégas again), a pair of boots (Vincent), and of course, a vase of sunflowers (Vincent). The gaze

had been shifted temporarily away from the reconstruction of events theological and historical. Viewed in that way, and given what happened next, Impressionism is so valuable as a period in art history as it is a brief interregnum of actually looking at the world, rather than thinking about it in paint. This journey towards intellectual painting is already at its starting point in Cézanne’s cerebral canvases.

“IMPRESSIONISM IS SO VALUABLE AS A PERIOD IN ART HISTORY AS IT IS A BRIEF INTERREGNUM OF ACTUALLY LOOKING AT THE WORLD.”

We tend to encounter Impressionism in grand art galleries with the best gilt picture frames round the pictures, and so we forget that these painters had a certain humility about their relationship to nature – though Monet certainly cannot have been called humble towards other people. In the way in which they faithfully set down what they saw, they were everymen –though in many cases everymen who happened to be geniuses. The artist beginning today could do a lot worse than look not towards the next fad but to what really lies outside their window for the inspiration that counts. The other thing we miss – and again it’s because reputation can sometimes intervene between us and what a painter’s real intentions are – is the wonderful oddity of some of the people knocking around Paris in the 1860s and 70s. For instance, the first Impressionists exhibition took

Alfred Sisley: Vue du canal Saint-Martin

place in the studio of a magnificent photographer called Nadar, who deserves an article in his own right. He was not just a magnificent and original photographer but also an early enthusiast for ballooning; I think he was probably a fairly peculiar character in the best sense. But all the Impressionists had their unusualness from Monet’s ill temper to Renoir’s flightiness and indecision – not to mention Van Gogh’s occasional tendency, attributable today to bipolar disorder, to hug random people in the street.

“WE THINK OF SUCCESS

AS SOMEHOW

PREORDAINED ONCE IT HAS HAPPENED, BUT IT RARELY LOOKS LIKE THAT AT THE TIME.”

We think of success as somehow preordained once it has happened, but it rarely looks like that at the time: actually it looks improbable for the reason that it’s usually unlikely to happen. Next time you see someone tinkering away at a picture or an invention with a look of concentration on their face, you may not be looking at someone slightly bonkers, but at a historical figure.

When it comes to Impressionism, the plight of women is another interesting one. The National Gallery of Ireland

is this summer celebrating the 150th anniversary of the first Impressionist exhibition with Women Impressionists, a show which lasers in on four women artists integral to Impressionism – Berthe Morisot (1841-1895), Eva Gonzalès (1849-1883), Marie Bracquemond (1860-1914), and Mary Cassatt (1844-1926). All but Eva Gonzalès exhibited at Impressionist exhibitions, of which there were eight over the following 12 years.

It’s worth going to Dublin for – here are the women who broke free from being painted to doing the actual art. Morisot is easily the best known today – and in fact that was also the case in 1874, in that she was the only female

artist to be featured in that first show at Nadar’s studio.

Throughout the Dublin exhibition we find images of maternal intimacy and gentleness. In Morisot’s work we are shown domesticity as it hasn’t been shown since Vermeer. But while Vermeer’s paintings sometimes point a lesson, or suggest an allegory, these are completely shorn of any morality: here we see, as in Cottage Interior, the quiet of the typical household shorn of explanation. This is just a girl in a beautifully lit interior, with a garden outside, some food on the table: life is like this, it seems to give such few directives. We live amid quiet mystery and many of Morisot’s paintings testify to this.

Felix Nadar in the basket of a balloon, self-portrait

Berthe Morisot, Morisot, cottage interior

This sense of a welcoming simplicity repeats in the other female impressionists in the show. In Mary Cassatt’s drawings we can see that the love of Japanese prints wasn’t confined to Vincent Van Gogh – it was as much a fad of that time as primitivism would be at the start of the 20th century. My favourite picture of hers is Summertime where the water seems thicker, gloopier even, than it does in a Monet where we can hardly tell what is water and what is light. And yet on certain summer days, when it’s really hot, we find ourselves more conscious of the shade and the shadows, since we seek them out.

The Dublin exhibition confirms that Impressionism is still very much alive: it’s not really an aspect of art history at all, but part of our living reality. Today we find young artists falling over themselves to create gimmicks, and sustain an Instagram-driven brand:

perhaps there are ways to build a brief career in that line, but it is impossible to create true art without reference to what is before our eyes in the universe itself. Impressionism is so valuable because it provides us with this encouragement. It sometimes seems behind us; really, it’s the way forward.

“IMPRESSIONISM IS SO VALUABLE BECAUSE IT PROVIDES US WITH THIS ENCOURAGEMENT.”

Summertime, 1894. Oil on canvas, 39 5/8 x 32 in. Daniel J. Terra Collection, 1988.25.

Reading, Portrait of Edma Morisot. (Wikipedia.org)

PAUL SIMON’S STRANGE DREAMS

IRIS SPARK

Alamy

What do you need to make a musical career? I’d say it comes down to one thing: a talent for immediacy. If you don’t have it, the chances are you’ll lose out to someone who does. I remember when I first listened to ‘The Sound of Silence’ in that wonderful Dustin Hoffman film The Graduate (1967): I was only 15 and as blank a listening canvas as can be imagined. But the effect was immediate: that day I went down to the old record store in Godalming and bought Simon and Garfunkel’s Greatest Hits.

I’ve been listening to Paul Simon on and off ever since, so much so that it is hard to imagine my life without his consoling voice, his cunning lyrics, and his explorations of international rhythm. Now, with Seven Psalms released in 2023, and the two-part documentary In Restless Dreams released the same year – and updates regarding his Beethovenesque hearing loss in one ear following in 2024 – we have an opportunity to consider the last act of Simon’s career.

Late works are a subject of perennial interest. Something seems to happen when the grave nears: there can be a sharpening of perception, and a sense even of the material veil about to be lifted. In literature, Shakespeare’s The Tempest (1610-11) with its world of fairies and valedictions is perhaps the most notable example of a viewpoint shifting as this world’s impermanence becomes increasingly evident to the writer. In poetry the famous lines by WB Yeats in the poem ‘Sailing to Byzantium’ might be taken as a sort of mantra for the ageing artist:

An aged man is but a paltry thing, A tattered coat upon a stick, unless Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing For every tatter in its mortal dress…

That is what Simon is doing in Seven Psalms – singing for every tatter in his mortal dress. In music, the most obvious

touchstone is those great late string quartets by Beethoven, where we feel the composer to be inhabiting a sort of ethereality. What appears to happen as mortality rears up is that the artist feels a heightened sense of the beauty of things and the fragility of the life they are about to leave. At the same time, we sometimes find the shape of intuitions about what may or may not come next, and Seven Psalms is a little like this.

The album comes up on Spotify and Apple Music as one long track 33 minutes long, but it also consists of seven interconnected tracks beginning with ‘The Lord’. Every track feels wispy and valedictory – like someone taking a last look around a house which they have just sold and are about to vacate for the last time.

But throughout, a certain confidence underpins it and somehow or other, as shown by the title of the album, this seems to have to do with some sort of faith. This is a little unexpected since it isn’t something which Simon has spoken about much in his highly secular career, and in fact he has stated in interview that he isn’t religious at all. All one can say to this is that any cursory listen of this album makes you think he’s doing an excellent impression otherwise. In fact, the powerful nature of the testament Simon is giving us here makes one wonder whether it’s possible to be religious without knowing it –indeed perhaps it’s a far more common condition than we realise. Here’s a sample lyric from the opening track ‘The Lord’:

I've been thinking about the great migration Noon and night they leave the flock

And I imagine their destination Meadow grass, jagged rock

The Lord is my engineer

The Lord is the earth I ride on

The Lord is the face in the atmosphere

The path I slip and I slide on

“SIMON WOKE UP IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT AND WROTE THE TITLE DOWN AT A TIME WHEN HE CLAIMS HE DIDN’T EVEN KNOW WHAT THE WORD ‘PSALMS’ MEANT.”

This is the language of the metaphysical poets, and is as religious as it gets. Even more interestingly, Simon has stated in interview that the idea for the album came to him in a vivid dream, where he received this clear instruction: “You are writing a piece called Seven Psalms”. Simon woke up in the middle of the night and wrote the title down at a time when he claims he didn’t even know what the word ‘psalms’ meant. This is odd since it’s quite a common word which one might expect an educated octogenarian to know about. Not since Paul McCartney woke up humming ‘Yesterday’ has music emanated so definitely from dream like this. It sometimes feels as though this album therefore has some sort of special validity; it is certainly quite different from all his other albums. In ‘The Lord’ Simon continues:

And the Lord is a virgin forest

The Lord is a forest ranger

The Lord is a meal for the poorest

A welcome door to the stranger

The Covid virus is the Lord

The Lord is the ocean rising

The Lord is a terrible swift sword

A simple truth surviving

This achieves the sort of compression and reach which isn’t usually to be

found in Simon’s songs – nor is it to be found generally in pop songs full stop. Here compression is allied to a sort of visionary certainty about the nature of divinity which may indeed have come through Simon, as an inspiration quite separate from the Paul Simon who presumably goes about his daily life. But there’s more. It turns out that the whole album was written by dream prompts. In the CBC interview he continues:

Maybe three times a week, I would wake up between the hours of 3 a.m. and 5 a.m. with words coming, and I would just write

them down…If I used my experience as a songwriter, it didn't work. And I just went back into this passive state where I said, well, it's just one of those things where words [were] flowing through me, and I'm just taking dictation. That's happened to me in the past, but not to this degree.… I've dreamed things in the past — I didn't necessarily think that they were worth noting. That's why it's unusual that I got up and wrote that down.

Simon, then, appears to have entered into some process of communication with the psychological process which makes dreams: since this process also

occurs in the wider universe and is impossible to divorce from it, we can say that he was also in some form of cosmological engagement which was wholly unusual for him. It was a reckoning of sorts – and one also that was presumably occurring, since people don’t live much longer than 80, fairly near to death. All in all, one cannot help but feel that this album amounted to a new kind of creative opportunity presented to Simon – and without being morbid, a last ditch one at that.

We can further guess that this new sort of creativity may have been linked to some sense of inadequacy at all that he had achieved up until that point in his career. In the quote above he references how his previous songwriting practice felt irrelevant to this new project: I would guess that this is the manifestation of a certain dissatisfaction with the way in which he has gone about his creative life, no matter how successful and laurelled he is.

“I USUALLY COME IN SECOND TO DYLAN, AND I DON’T LIKE COMING IN SECOND.”

Perhaps, despite his enormous achievements, there could even be said to be a certain justice about that verdict which, depending on how we view the meaning of dreams, was coming through him, or from him. As odd an admission as it may be for the person who wrote ‘The Boxer’, Simon has sometimes in interview expressed a sense that he is somehow in the second tier. In particular, he has always come in second to Bob Dylan. In 2011, Simon told Rolling Stone:

I usually come in second to Dylan, and I don’t like coming in second. In the beginning, when we were first signed to Columbia, I really admired Dylan’s work. ‘The Sound of Silence’ wouldn’t have been written if it

Bob Dylan (Wikipedia.org)

weren’t for Dylan. But I left that feeling around The Graduate and ‘Mrs Robinson’. They [my songs] weren’t folky any more.

And why was Simon always runner-up like this? Simon continues:

One of my deficiencies is my voice sounds sincere. I’ve tried to sound ironic. I don’t. I can’t. Dylan, everything he sings has two meanings. He’s telling you the truth and making fun of you at the same time. I sound sincere every time.

This is worth unpacking. The truth is that Dylan came to songwriting almost weirdly fully formed. There was a specific reason for this: that he was drawing from the past, and often, frankly, copying it. That’s why there’s no juvenilia by Dylan: he comes straight out of the gate with ‘Blowin’ in the Wind’ and ‘Girl from the North Country’. These songs are sponsored by, it can sometimes seem, a great chorus of American experience.

Well, if you’re travelin’ in the north country fair

Where the winds hit heavy on the borderline

Remember me to one who lives there

She once was a true love of mine ‘Winds hit heavy on the borderline’ is excellent, but the song has both a fresh and ancient sound – and Dylan had the voice to convey those ideas simultaneously. The same was never true of Simon’s early work. We might take ‘Homeward Bound’ as an example:

And all my words come back to me

In shades of mediocrity

Blank emptiness and harmony

I need someone to comfort me.

This amounts to an immature complaint about life on the road which Dylan would never have permitted himself. It is part of that unlovely genre: rich rock stars moaning about having to be away from home a bit to make their money. These deficiencies – though

they are offset in ‘Homeward Bound’ by some nice chord changes, particularly in the verses – appear to have stayed with Simon throughout his life. There is a story of Simon playing a gig in Greenwich Village in the early 1960s, and noticing when up on stage that Dylan was sniggering about his performance with his own future biographer Robert Shelton. I’ve never been sure about the truth of that story, although Dylan could undoubtedly be harsh. Is it not more likely that they were laughing about something else?

In fact, whether it happened precisely that way or not, the story touches on Simon’s insecurity in relation to Dylan: what really matters is that he thought Dylan was laughing at him whether he was or not. Why might Simon feel this way? It’s because he knows his inadequacy in relation to Dylan.

Simon states in the Rolling Stone interview that this inferiority has to do with Dylan’s ability to apply layers of meaning not just in his lyrics, but to his vocal delivery. Simon is being hard on himself – as all artists need to be, provided that self-criticism doesn’t stymie creativity. But there is nevertheless truth to his verdict, and it is useful to have Simon articulate so clearly the central mystery of what makes Dylan uniquely compelling.

How does Dylan achieve it? It is very difficult to say but my own sense is that Dylan’s immersion in the past – and really in life generally – has been so deep that he has come out so entirely soaked in art and experience that his singing is never entirely for himself. His experience is multifarious: he is many. His art can at times seem to have almost nothing to do with him. One never feels that there is any stability in the word ‘I’ in Dylan’s songs: nothing can ever be traced reliably back to him.

The same isn’t true of Simon: in his songs, even the very best of them, there’s always a slight air of solipsism amid all the lovely melodies and the beautiful ideas. He is writing in order to unburden himself; Dylan is doing nothing less than carving out, or reimagining, nationhood in song.

There are many ways in which this smaller tendency can illustrate itself in Simon’s career. The principle one is in being too clever. This exists across his canon. It is there in the Joe DiMaggio line in 'Mrs Robinson' which is probably too arbitrary; when Dylan namechecks people it is always as a way of going back to some definite idea, emotion, or set of principles, as in his great song 'Blind Willie McTell'. Furthermore, this is a deficiency which Simon is aware of. There is also video footage in the

Simon and Garfunkel (Wikipedia.org)

1990s of Paul Simon listening back to his magnificent song ‘Graceland’. He is being filmed listening to the words: And my travelling companions Are ghosts and empty sockets

I’m looking at ghosts and empties.

Listening back to this, his facial features twist with regret: “Too many words,” he says, genuinely berating himself. “Too many words”.

He is right. And too many words is always a symptom of trying too hard which in turn is to do with lack of

self-confidence. By contrast, we might note how the whole magnificent universe of Dylan’s “Mr Tambourine Man” unfolds effortlessly, without any ambition intervening. Dylan has superior knowledge about the world, which is really another way of saying that he understands himself better.

Incidentally, Simon never wrote a line as good as: “I know that evening’s empire has returned into sand,” which shows a true poet’s innate perception of evenings – not to mention of empires and sand.

I’m not sure Simon is ever seeing things so clearly as this; his ego, in the shape of his cleverness, keeps coming in between him and the thing he is trying to describe.

This lack of self-confidence in Simon might have to do with an absence of historical roots. This was, to put it mildly, never the case with Dylan who has travelled the world on his Neverending Tour, but always as an American mining his Americanness. Lack of a real centre meant that Simon went journeying, first to South Africa

to record his best solo album Graceland (1986) and then to Brazil to record his second best Rhythm of the Saints (1990). These albums were made in a completely different way – one might say that they have to do with avoidance regarding the core reasons for a restlessness which Simon has always felt. He recorded the rhythm track first and then recorded the melodies over the top. It was a fascinating exploration of another country, and produced some songs which border on being standards: ‘Boy in the Bubble’, ‘Graceland’ itself, ‘Diamonds on the Soles of Their Shoes’, although it might be that ‘You Can Call Me Al’ is marred by some slightly silly lyrics.

But the only real limit on the Graceland album is tied to its core concept: the lyrics feel like journalism, and make one think of Sir Tom Stoppard’s joke in his 1978 play Night and Day, that a foreign correspondent is “someone who flies around from hotel to hotel and thinks the most interesting thing about any story is the fact that he has arrived to cover it.” Something like this appears

Miriam Makeba and Paul Simon (Wikipedia.org)

to apply to Graceland and Rhythm of the Saints. There is a shallowness to his observations about poverty in South Africa for the very simple reason that Simon doesn’t live there, and can’t really know what’s going on. Damon Albarn faced a similar problem when he came to make his album of Mali Music.

Surrealism in Simon has its limits too. In Dylan’s surrealism – especially in Blonde on Blonde – we experience the excitement of the poet’s discovery of Baudelaire and Rimbaud. It is probably true to say that Dylan doesn’t always make definite sense, but there is something vast and brave about the exploration being undertaken; and very often one senses a large world of meaning bordering the difficulty of the language – a world of dream-like correspondences. But in Simon surreal language too often goes in the direction of archness. Lyricists mustn’t let the listener know that they’re clever; what needs to be communicated instead is that they love truth, and then that they love language – and in that order. At the highest peaks of the Dylan songbook these two are in the right order – and of course, married to the music. With Simon, something is ever so slightly out of kilter and I think it must have been, despite his huge achievements, a frustrating career in some ways.

I should say that these deficiencies have been minor, and they make very little dent in most people’s enjoyment of Paul Simon. But they have, it seems, made a dent in Paul Simon’s enjoyment of Paul Simon. For the rest of us we have a body of work which is full of charm, occasional wisdom – and almost always, a beautiful gift for melody which actually surpasses Dylan, and is probably only dwarfed in post-war song by Paul McCartney. Simon has always had the knack of writing a song which you can grasp on first listen but which you want to listen to again. We are extremely lucky to have a lullaby like ‘St Judy’s Comet’, which can still get my son reliably to sleep as

he enters his ninth year; that perfect (except for the last verse) gospel song ‘Bridge Over Troubled Water’; ‘Mrs Robinson’ and many others.

But if we take Paul Simon at his own estimate as in some way second tier, it strikes me to be of enormous interest that Seven Psalms came to him in the way it did – as something gifted through dream.

“ALL WE KNOW IS THAT DREAMING IS PSYCHOLOGICALLY NECESSARY.”

We cannot say how this may have happened – and it is beyond the scope of this article to consider satisfactorily why we dream, and what dreams may mean. All we know is that dreaming is psychologically necessary. There have been experiments where people have been woken up just before REM – the period twice per night when we dream – and though they have slept, they have been denied dream. Such people have very quickly drifted into psychosis. From this we can realise that dreaming is psychologically necessary – a vital sorting of the day’s information.

But there have long been thinkers, including Carl Jung, who have argued that dream is a form of essential communication, and that this isn’t best understood as a purely internal process. For such thinkers, our mind is open

when we dream to the stream of external life, and it is this which constitutes the real necessity about dream.

Be that as it may, we can see in Simon that something utterly essential has happened in Seven Psalms: we can see that his career would simply not have made any sense without it – though we noted no particular gap before. This is the wonderful thing about living a long time. A Paul Simon who had for some reason died in his 70s, without having done this, would be a completely different and inferior Paul Simon. Something similar happened to the Australian poet Clive James: he was a completely different creature at 80 to 70 and even 75.

Seven Psalms then is an album which should give us all hope that if we continue to live we will continue to learn – and perhaps something may just land in our laps which we weren’t expecting. This might not be something as big as Seven Psalms – it doesn’t need to be. In fact, for all of us, in whatever career or task we’re chiefly working at, life is usually giving us little indications which might be seen as microscopic versions of these larger realisations. The lesson from the life of Paul Simon is to stay alert for the big change in direction, the essential shift in the self. It may just come your way – and if it does, you’ll know how much you needed it.

Paul McCartney with Linda McCartney (Wikipedia.org)

GUY RITCHIE: “GIVEN AN EXCUSE, HUMAN BEINGS WILL ALWAYS BE GENEROUS’’

CHRISTOPHER JACKSON MEETS THE FAMOUS FILMMAKER, AND CREATOR OF WILDKITCHEN

Itisn’t intended to be disparaging to the homeware trade when I say that when you meet a kitchen salesman you don’t expect to come away with a deeper sense of life’s overall meaning. But then the man I am here to see isn’t only a kitchen salesman. In fact, he’s Guy Ritchie, the filmmaker behind The Gentlemen, Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels and Snatch. I have come to his estate at Ashcombe ostensibly to talk with him about a new product: the magnificent WildKitchen. For the most part, we discuss anything but and spend an hour or so in the Cecil Beaton studio at Ashcombe. Beaton was leased the house in 1930, and used to work in this room apart from the main house. Outside there’s a football pitch for the Ritchies’ three young children to play on. Beyond the lawns, the ground dips sharply into a dramatic wooded world: the estate where Ritchie spends as much of his time as possible.

This, you feel, is a place of order. Some of this is probably to do with money; Ritchie employs many people on the estate to make it function properly. But there is having money and then there is the knowledge of how to express a profound aesthetic and even a philosophy with that money, and this is what I will gradually discover, over the course of a five hour visit, is what Ritchie is doing.

But first, his beginnings. “I was brought up in town but my father had a sort of love of all things traditionally English in relation to the countryside. He

introduced me to the traditional sports. That gave me an in. Principally, it was fly-fishing and funnily enough I went to a fishing spot very close to here recently, which I hadn’t been to for 45 years. It’s somewhat nostalgic.”

This love of the countryside is a clue to

Ritchie’s groundedness. Many celebrities go a bit loopy for very understandable reasons: everybody wants something from them – anything, even a selfie. Later I will see Ritchie, with that weary tolerance of those who have been famous for a long time, field a few

questions here and there from the public at Compton Abbas Airfield which he also owns. He does so kindly, but I can see he needs more than the transactions of fame to live meaningfully. Often celebrities have surrounded themselves with yes-men; Ritchie has surrounded himself with trees. This turns out to be a far better strategy. Nature is a humbling affair – a tree gives you no different treatment if you happen to know Brad Pitt and David Beckham. A human being will usually treat you very differently. I will come to suspect that by paying attention to nature, and to the ancient processes around him, Ritchie has stayed level.

I get to know the Ashcombe Estate a little during my time there and can only admire the way in which Ritchie has decided to care for the land which he has been lucky enough to be able to afford. “The reason I bought this house here was because we used to fish the River Nadder,” he tells me. “We had a mate who lived down the road in the Donheads and we used to stay with them. When I was looking for somewhere in the country, I thought: ‘What am I going to do at the weekends? I lost my fluency in the country about 22 years ago.’ I didn’t know what I would do, and I thought the thing I could rely on is if I get bored in the weekend I can go fly-fishing in places that I used to fish. My love of countryside was early doors in the sense that it was what I loved the most.”

‘We had a mate’. ‘Early doors’. Ritchie’s language is similar to his film scripts, admitting Cockneyisms and slang: the embrace of this sort of language has helped him reach a large audience, but it has also, I think, led to his intelligence being underestimated. I notice that one of his favourite words is ‘equation’ indicating a desire to consider abstract matters precisely; but the nature of what he considers is always united. In fact he thinks in a series of quite intricate paradoxes. If Ritchie has arrived at a sort of wisdom, then I think he has done it

in an entirely unexpected and original way: by taking this estate seriously and asking himself what it requires of him, and then what those requirements might mean.

“I’d rather be outside,” he says, referring to the genesis of WildKitchen. This structure, on the other side of the estate, reminds me of a sort of ship, where the space can be amended according to the weather at any one time, but enabling you always to remain outdoors. Ritchie explains: “English weather is challenging unless you dial into it.” He concedes that weather which is too consistent (‘Tupperware skies can get even to me eventually’) is not ideal, but broadly he has accepted the joy of these conditions, and aims to be creative in them. “You want to work between 12 and 18 degrees – anything north of that is quite impractical. What I’m principally interested in is how the natural world corresponds with me, the nutrition I derive from it and the curiosity that goes hand in hand with that. So I just prefer it as a canvas in which to live. I have to tell you, the perfect vacillation of life is really town and country, you get all the benefits of appreciating – or not – town. If I was going to live anywhere it would be here, full time. I wouldn’t choose to live in London full time. It’s hard to have a profound sense of integration with oneself while living in town.”

This statement looks simple at first, but there’s a lot housed in it. Why is it that competition stifles the creation of a viable self? It’s because we are, one way or another, trying to get one over someone else. Striving like this is a primarily external pursuit, when what is really required is internal work upon ourselves in order to make progress. Ritchie is also mindful of the ‘contraction of space’ you experience as you go into town. In fact, the more I talk to Ritchie the more I think of London as being a place of obligation – centred around work – which may hardly at all touch our inner need as human beings.

Of course, this isn’t a hard and fast rule – theoretically, a long walk in Hyde Park undertaken in the right mindset might provide some of the pleasures of walking around Ashcombe. But the city does carry with it its burden, its sense that the outer self must be continually manoeuvring, acquiring, scoring victories. Ritchie adds: “We’re more social in the country; we’re not social at all in town. We might have a drink in London – but really London’s work. The more you draw a line like that, the more efficient it is.”

What Ritchie is interested in is wrestling with the world as he finds it. Unbridled nature, of course, tips over into chaos, as Thomas Hobbes knew. But too much humanity leads to artificiality. He is interested in exploring the connections between the two to maximise the joy of life, and to foster creativity. I am coming to realise that Ashcombe is a sort of laboratory, with Guy Ritchie’s life as the experiment – a constant work in progress.

This means that in one sense Ritchie might be a considered a refined individual in a species which has an all-too-clear tendency towards herd behaviours. But this doesn’t mean at all that Ritchie is uninterested in community – it is only that you have to begin with yourself in order viably to do your bit to build a society. This is why he dislikes the class system (‘people tether themselves and incarcerate themselves with the principle of it’), and indeed any social construct. Ritchie argues that we are surrounded by archetypes when what we need to do is to peer past these outward manifestations towards something truer.

Of course, hierarchy is still an important aspect of community, and Ritchie is well-known for being an exacting director. But he is aware here of a paradox at work: “You have to care about structure and hierarchy in order for something to manifest. But simultaneously you want to

retain human principles within the transference of information.”

This leads Ritchie to consider the question of where our real being lies. For Ritchie, it is as if the world presents itself to us as first one thing, then another and that the location of a fulfilling life is always some form of reconciliation between these. “Your primitive or literal nature is principal where your more sophisticated human nature is concealed. Ultimately nothing can be reconciled on the surface – it has to be reconciled through something deeper than the surface and that will always lead to the individual.”

I suspect that very few people will get so far as to integrate themselves in the way Ritchie is describing. Sadly, most people are full of possibilities which they don’t even begin to broach. Ritchie is careful to point out that the individual isn’t the end of the story: “If that were the case, we’d all be traditionally liberal in our political positions and that would be that. The vertical plane is a deeper

plane, and the vertical plane is that which is concealed.”

What could this mean? Initially it sounds verging on the cryptic. Clearly it is possible to arrive at some better sense of who we are and this, according to Ritchie, will involve becoming comfortable with paradox in a whole range of areas. But once this is achieved we might find that this self, based on the sort of reconciliation which Ritchie is describing, has a kind of pull to it – a charge. And this is what Ritchie means by the vertical plane. We go down into the mysteries of our self, and find there an entirely new life, and another set of obligations. We may also find that we are capable of attempting tasks we hadn’t thought relevant to us: in Ritchie’s case this has had to do with estate management, architecture, wood and food as we shall see. The vertical plane, I suspect, in fact leads us down into a more complex set of relationships which makes us capable of operating on many different levels simultaneously.

Ritchie explains: “The first component in this equation (there’s that word ‘equation’ again) is responsibility for generating your own sense of self and identity. You must take responsibility for being the genesis of your creativity, and responsibility for oscillating between these disparate polarities which reside on the surface and somehow retaining humanity within the capricious nature of the ego.”

What Ritchie is saying is that in order to function in a better way, we have to take certain steps to accept the swirl of events, and the sometimes ludicrous chatter of the ego. In a sense, we have to observe ourselves – and as we do this, another self might be created which is capable of some new set of aptitudes. It is a very simple two-step process.

As you make these movements, you needn’t be harsh on yourself – that would almost certainly stymie you, and defeat the purpose. Ritchie explains that we are all, in some respects, clumsy, which is to say that we are ungainly

Ashcombe House (Alamy.com)

in our movements, but also, perhaps, clumsy at the level of the soul: we prioritise acts and speech which turns out to be foolish, and make so many blunders as basically to consist in error. Insodoing, we mistake the nature of the world, both overestimating the powers of the askew parts of ourselves, and, what is just as bad, underestimating our actual capacities. Ritchie explains: “The goal is to be someone who understands the complexity of being in clumsiness but who can simultaneously address the clumsiness by becoming more sophisticated but leaves room for clumsiness too – and doesn’t judge themselves too harshly for being clumsy. You’re in potential and actual. The actual is clumsy. We’re just grown-up kids. In the same way, we’re generous with kids for their mistakes and we have to apply that same methodology to ourselves.”

I have been talking to Ritchie for 45 minutes and I realise this is a different kind of interview to what I am used to. He hasn’t plugged a film, though he has every right to, or really shown any interest in the traditional conventions of an interview with a journalist. He is unbridled. The topic is enthusing him –and that topic is nothing less than the whole of life. We came here to discuss kitchens, and so, feeling the convention of the process tug at me a little, I ask him how this might be related back. I do so a little anxiously, as I still can’t see how WildKitchen might relate to the very interesting things we are discussing, and I don’t really want to stop his flow. But I needn’t have worried. “I can link this altogether,” he says swiftly. ”I’m interested in both the artificial and the natural world. The more authentic expression of ourselves comes through the natural world, and the less authentic through the artificial –but that said, one informs the other. I recognise the correlation between the two. We have a company called the Cashmere Caveman and that is meant to represent the best of what is artificial tethered to what is natural.”

I am interested in the idea that the more authentic expressions of ourselves come to us through the natural world. Anybody who has not been outside for a week knows what happens when we forget this: we feel irritable and cut off from something vital. We miss the tremendous proliferation of natural forms which the world presents us with, and the correspondences to our own nature which these forms possess. But we also need shelter, not to be eaten by predators, to be warm, and dry and so on.

What Ritchie understands is that in creating systems around these physical necessities we seem to have gone too far, and Ashcombe is an experiment in how to go back the other way towards nature. Later he will tell me that his family often sleeps down by the lake in order to stargaze.

As he explains it to me: “I want to be outside more than I want to be inside. But how do I bridle the capricious elements of nature so that it’s friendly but not hostile and at what point does it become hostile?” Ritchie’s example is rain. When we’re in our homes and it’s raining unless we have a skylight we will hardly know it’s raining. And so the original point of having a roof – to keep the rain off – is to some extent muted and we are cut off from the meteorological systems on which we’re dependent.

This observation is consistent with everything he has said about the importance of reconciling opposites. It is as if the world is governed by a sort of law of three, whereby we see two contradictory tendencies and our duty is to enact a reconciliation of these. Ritchie explains: “What we tend to do is polarise – that’s in our nature. We see this in the polarisation of our political system, which states that you’re either on the left or the right, which, like the class structure, seems to be an outdated modality by which to understand the modern world.”

Now it’s time to jump into the car and see what he’s built. As we drive he continues his thought, explaining how all that we have discussed so far relates to politics: “Ultimately, what we’re talking about is an outsourcing of responsibility. Responsibility should be on the individual and not on the group. Politicians have way too much authority. The fact is that some people aren’t tribal, and don’t mind about being political or not. This state of affairs is more obvious in America than in the UK. But I don’t know which party stands for what anymore, and I don’t know if that’s too important – what’s important is knowing that no politician is going to come and save you. That would be my motto: “No-one’s coming.” There’s a great liberation paradoxically in that. You end up thinking: ‘Oh great, so I’m going to have to do it.’ We’re all sitting around waiting for someone else to do it because that’s the other aspect of our nature which is subservient and reactive and dependent rather than being independent, galvanising and responsible for everything. The construction of your life is up to you and the quicker you’re clear about the fact that no one is coming you can get on with being the person that is coming.”

“WHAT’S IMPORTANT IS KNOWING THAT NO POLITICIAN IS GOING TO COME AND SAVE YOU. THAT WOULD BE MY MOTTO: NOONE’S COMING.’”

This is, though he means it more broadly than that, also excellent careers advice – to forge an independent path is almost always the best way forwards. For a moment, this emphasis on selfreliance sounds quasi-conservative, but

again Ritchie’s mind is working on another level simultaneously. “I also love community because a community is everything. But the individual has to be responsible for the individual before they can be responsible for the community. I really don’t see this as a political position because it’s riddled with paradox. You can have all the benefits of the right and the left – and if they can be reconciled then you get the best of all worlds, but there’s an exporting of responsibility in this equation: we can’t help ourselves, it’s in our nature. Just like gravity is there, it’s the predominant force you’re up against in life.”

“YOU’VE GOT TO STEP FORTH INTO YOURSELF – YOU’VE GOT TO MAKE EFFORT EVERY DAY.”

So that fact alone – in effect, our complete ill-suitedness to the business of being human – can mean only one thing: you have to work. “You’ve got to step forth into yourself – you’ve got to make effort every day,” Ritchie says. “I think literally charity starts at home in this equation. You have to be much more charitable with yourself and it’s not my nature to be so: but you have to make it your business to be so. What you have to do is check yourself like you would a child. Do things to look after yourself whether you want to do them or not because you’re the child that you’re responsible for.”

So is Ritchie religious then? Not surprisingly this question also opens up onto paradox. “You have literal structured religion and spiritual religion.” For Ritchie, what may at one point have originated from some profound inner experience has taken on a set of appearances: architecture, liturgies, church services and the like. “The two have antithetical meanings,”

Ritchie explains. “You could be praying next to someone in a Church and the two have different deities. First you have to be clear what the point of religious experience is – and I would argue that in its extreme version it’s responsibility.” Again, this strikes me as true and the huge error people make is to assume that because they might go to Church on a Sunday, or read a bit of the New Testament from time to time, or dabbled in the Koran or the sayings of the Buddha, that they’ve somehow got that box ticked. For Ritchie, it doesn’t quite work that way. Ritchie is in fact saying that we need to take these experiences into ourselves, for them to become part of the work we’re doing on ourselves to move towards new being. “We have to ask ourselves whether we’re exporting or importing? Is Jesus outside of you or inside of you? Are you embodying Jesus in your acts or has Jesus just become a narrative external to you?” Jesus himself of course warned against this in Matthew 6: 1-4. ‘Take heed that ye do not your alms before men, to be seen of them: otherwise ye have no reward of your Father which is in heaven. Therefore when thou doest thine alms, do not sound a trumpet before thee, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, that they may have glory of men.” The message is the same. Jesus is saying that religious experience has to amount to significant internal alteration otherwise it can’t really be anything much at all.

Here is how Ritchie puts it: “How do you reconcile these two – the literal and the spiritual –and I don’t think you’re ever going to do that unless you try to give shape to what is shapeless.”

Which brings us onto Ashcombe itself. We round the corner and are soon at the charcoal part of the estate, and I suppose this amounts to the first embodiment of Ritchie’s philosophy. Put simply, Ashcombe is slowly – and with great care – being transformed by Ritchie as part of what he calls his

reconciliation with the paradoxes he has been describing for me. “You’re never going to escape this dualist dance: you’ll see it in philosophy, theology, through life and work. We’re all clear about how the literal world works – or not so clear as it turns out. But we think we trust our five senses. However, we realise under any real scrutiny that they’re not to be trusted: nothing is what it appears to be.”

This brings us onto Ritchie’s interest in cathedrals, and he tells me about a recent visit to Wells cathedral. “I love cathedrals. I would argue that the symbolism of the cross from a loric or mystical position is that it’s the unseen genesis revealed through the symbolic incarnation of left and right, up and down, vertical and horizontal. Everything is reconciled through a central component which involved sacrifice at some point. It’s one of the great things about the human spirit, or condition, or nature, you can say whatever you like – other people will jump in front of a bus for someone else’s child. They may think they wouldn’t do it, but I still think concealed behind some form of their nature is still a more positive and generous and confident spirit.”

This sleeping generosity is of course what it’s our duty to uncover. I mention that what I most like about The Covenant – which I regard as one of his best films – is that the two main characters don’t like each other. He is enthused by the observation. “It was important to me that they didn’t like each other. I had a lot of resistance to that: people wanted some saccharine expression of them liking each other. But liking comes with conditions. Underneath the conditions, is something that’s more consistent.”

Kindness in other words should be something we do regardless of the quirks of another’s character: it ought to lie deeper than that. In actual fact, the reasons for doing kindness often

turn out to be based around our illusory ideas of people – and perhaps even be contaminated by the fact that we might do kindness for the wrong reasons.

Ritchie says: “Illusion is this mundane existence which we now term as ordinary. Reality is something which is much more splendid and expresses itself through various quirks.”

What kind of quirks? Then Ritchie says something marvellous. “People can’t help themselves but be generous. I spent two years hitchhiking across Europe, through France and southern Spain. I became quite expert in hitchhiking. It changed my life and the fumes of that are still somewhere. We’re constantly exercising judgement, myself included. But oddly someone comes up from the left-hand side and rather than asking for money or something conspicuous like that – you’ve already got your shield up for that – it’s something that you don’t expect.”

For Ritchie, this was all shown during his hitchhiking days. “I found they got more and more out of it. The lessons of

that still last for me now. It portrayed what was there behind the human condition. Ordinarily we see ourselves as rather mean and reactive. Given an excuse to be generous – and it has to be through a channel which you don’t already have a guard up for – they will be. So with hitchhiking, there might be a bit of an eye roll as they get you in. But within 15 minutes they’re offering you lunch. Within half an hour, they’re offering money. There was a consistent theme. The thin end of the wedge is: “Do you want a lift?” And it’s an endless unfurling of generosity which they don’t even know is happening to them: and it’s not intellectual, it’s actual. I’m sure there were horror stories when it comes to hitchhiking which is why it doesn’t exist anymore. But me, 90 percent of my hitchhiking experiences were positive in highly predictable ways.”

It’s an astonishing observation, and as I tour the estate I begin to see his creativity also manifesting in unpredictable ways. Architecture is clearly one of his passions and he shows me a prototype of a log cabin which has

the potential to create a new form of aesthetic affordable housing, and then perhaps new cities (‘I’d very much like to throw my hat into the ring’, he says.) Then we’re at WildKitchen itself with Guy cooking us a perfect steak.

“This is a rather macabre story. I ate this roe fillet recently and I was with a professional stalker. He’d shot two beasts within the same minute. One was looking at him, he’d raised his head from grazing, and it had one second’s worth of adrenalin in it. The other he’d shot while his head was still munching in the grass. The difference was insane.”

It is this sort of insight into nature which Ritchie has achieved by looking closely at Ashcombe. It is a world of trees, wood, charcoal and meat, of weather and looking at the stars. Here at Ashcombe is a possible new beginning, and it is an endless inspiration to think that we might all create our own Ashcombes in our own lives.

Alamy.com

THE ABUSE OF POWER: THERESA MAY

Thememoir by the departed leader has evolved a little since Winston Churchill’s confident predictions regarding his own six volume account of his own premiership, “History shall be kind to me, as I intend to write it.” No PM today would expect to have the field to themselves quite as Churchill did. Nevertheless, we expect to hear from our prime ministers once they leave office – nowadays, this usually occurs just after Sir Anthony Seldon has told us, with his usual authority, what really happened – warts and all. In terms of UK Prime Ministers, the worst for my money is Tony Blair’s A Journey which could certainly have done with a proper edit, and the best is arguably by the man whom he defeated in 1997, Sir John Major. The biggest difficulty with the genre is that what one has to say will usually in some way impact the current incumbent, and most people who have been PM have such a vivid memory of the difficulty of the job that they have no wish to make daily life any harder on their successor than it is already likely to be.

But there are other problems: one is practical, and the other moral. Practically, the writer needs to be discreet about many decisions, often leading to a banal narrative as happened in the case of Bill Clinton who may well be accused of having written the most boring book of all time in the shape of My Life.

Morally speaking, one must justify one’s tenure while also avoiding looking too self-serving. Typically the man – or woman – of action won’t have the literary experience to walk such a tightrope.

Theresa May has bypassed all this and written one of the best of prime

ministerial memoirs. She has done so largely by taking herself out of the equation. The quality and originality of this book is somewhat unexpected: May was never known when prime minister for her fluency as a speaker. In fact, the office seems often to have constricted her powers of expression, and the reader will sometimes wish that if she could think and write like this, that she should have done so more freely when she was the nation’s leader. At a recent Finito event she gave a brilliant exposition of her social care policy – the very same policy which she had once struggled to elucidate on the campaign trail in 2017.

The point about May is that she was the most moral prime minister since Gladstone. Had things gone a little differently – especially had she not called that disastrous snap General Election in 2017 – I think she had the work ethic, the quiet vision, and the

character to be a great prime minister. Her grasp of detail was second to none – and it was this which enabled her to see through all the complexities of what might be done to the task itself. Brexit wouldn’t have been done without her hard work, and I don’t know of anybody on any side of the political divide who doesn’t admire her stance on modern slavery. Which politician since Wilberforce has found an issue of such importance and done so much to raise it in the public awareness?

This memoir then, which is both brilliantly written and full of a central truth which we need to heed, is partly a reminder of what might have been. But it’s more than that – because it tells us what we have become. The book begins with May leaving office and adjusting to life outside of Number 10:

Having more time to think about my

Dr Maurizio Bragagni and Theresa May

experience enabled me to consider the themes that underpinned the issues I encountered. Because, although in some sense every problem or opportunity I dealt with was different, over time I started to understand the similarities between them and to recognise more clearly what had driven behaviours and hence outcomes.

And what was this? It was, writes May, a fundamental misunderstanding about the very nature of power and politics. She argues powerfully throughout this book that we have lost our sense of service in relation to others; further, she states that this is especially the case when it comes to decision-makers. This insight becomes a sort of skeleton key which unlocks a huge amount of what we have seen over the past 14 years, and it is certainly not confined to the Conservatives, though I note in passing that I think Sir Keir Starmer would surely agree with its central thesis.

What May is describing is exactly the sort of immorality pandemic which Starmer made the centre of his first speech outside 10 Downing Street on 5th June. May explains the problem in its entirety in her excellent introduction:

By personal interest, I don’t mean personal financial interest. This is much wider than that. It is about seeking to further your own interests, protecting your position, ensuring you can’t be blamed, making yourself look good, protecting your power and in so doing keeping yourself in power.

May has placed her finger on the problem, and she is also the right person to be sending out this message. Whatever was said about her when Prime Minister, I don’t recall anyone saying that she was out for herself.

This is partly due to her upbringing. I have always felt a sense of sympathy towards May because of what happened to her parents, and also often wondered at her quiet strength regarding it. Her father’s death in a car accident and her

mother’s death from Multiple Sclerosis at a time when there were far fewer treatments than there are today cannot help but be central biographical facts. Not only has she navigated them, but she has done so without trying to gain popularity by her having done so. This dignity is extremely rare – and was mistaken for froideur when she held the highest office in the land.

But in Abuse of Power she writes beautifully and elegantly about what growing up as the daughter of a vicar means to her:

Perhaps the background of growing up as a vicar’s daughter is not so far removed from the requirements of being a senior politician as it might at first seem. As a child of the vicarage, you are not just yourself, and you are not just seen as representing your parents (although when your father is the local vicar, that is more significant than it is for most children). Like it or not, you are also a representative of a wider body – the Church.

“THERE WERE TIMES WHEN I STOPPED MYSELF FROM MAKING A FUNNY ASIDE OR WHAT I THOUGHT WAS A HUMOROUS QUIP BECAUSE IT COULD HAVE BEEN TAKEN OUT OF CONTEXT.”

This observation enables May to make an admission that wouldn’t be so powerful had it not just been shored up with her understanding of how the world works: “There were times when I stopped myself from making a funny aside or what I thought was a humorous quip because it could have been taken

out of context,” she writes.

She did play it safe this respect – and she did so too much. I’m sure she sometimes reflects that she might have been braver in showing the electorate who she really was.

But though it is too late for that, it’s not too late for this book. If we accept that this form of naked individualism has become a problem, then by applying that insight to the problems of the day, we can begin to see that problem’s scale. Whether she is looking at Hillsborough or Primodos, at Putin and Ukraine or at Grenfell, the idea that power has been abused is an effective microscope by which to see what has really been going on. The effect is of a light shone on most people in public life – and therefore on us for allowing them to be there.

Nor is this book without answers. Towards the end of it she writes:

I referred earlier to there being too many careerist politicians in Parliament today. I was reminded of this in a conversation I had recently with a young woman who showed an interest in politics. I said we needed more good women in Parliament, and asked if she was interested in becoming an MP. She had indeed given it some thought and was not dismissing the possibility, but she wanted to know how to become a Cabinet minister. This misses the point. The core of an MP’s job is providing service for their constituents. Anyone who doesn’t see that as good enough in itself is failing to understand the essence of our democracy.

This rings true – and it’s one of many insights in an important book which I hope the huge number of new MPs will read. May’s premiership has some of the hallmarks of a missed opportunity, but this book doesn’t repeat that error. It’s both a powerful indictment of our core motives as a society and, in its implications, a call to arms for us to do better. And when it comes to that, as I’m sure Sir Keir Starmer would agree, there’s no time like the present.

BOOK REVIEWS

UPLIFTING BOOKS FOR CHALLENGING TIMES

LAST MAN STANDING

LAST MAN STANDING

BY ALAN HALSALL

The 2016 Referendum was the most important vote in Britain in many decades. In many ways it was nightmarish for those closely involved in Vote Leave. Alan was one of the most critical people behind our success. Politics attracts some of the worst characters. Alan is one of the best. He had an unusual mix of honesty, decency and moral courage.

When I think about my decision to ask him to be the official ‘agent’ for Vote Leave, which involved crucial legal responsibilities, I now have very conflicting emotions. On one hand, profound relief. If he hadn’t taken the job then we may well have lost.

On the other hand, guilt. Because he took the job, his life was made a misery for years because of profoundly unfair, immoral and (in my view) unlawful persecution from parts of the state.

Alan was a hero. Democracy only survives because people like him fight for it. I strongly encourage you to read his account of the most extraordinary political struggle in Britain for many decades.

Dominic Cummings

THE DEATH OF TRUTH

BY STEVE BRILL

Dustin Thompson was living in Columbus, Ohio and getting along more or less fine in the pests control industry when the pandemic came along. As Covid took hold, he lost his job which led to a notable increase in time spent online. Eventually, he would be among those who perpetrated the 6th January Capitol Riots. His weapon? A coatrack.

It’s a weird image – and perhaps it fits somehow with the sorts of weird states we can get ourselves into when we try to twist reality. Steve Brill’s

book is an examination of how we got here, and it’s no surprise at all to find that the Internet is to blame. Specifically he notes that Section 230 – a 1995 law in the US allowing internet providers to police their own platforms and granting them immunity over content, no matter how far-fetched – was a landmark moment which nobody much noticed at the time.

So what can be done? Brill suggests that Section 230 – and presumably similar provisions globally – be amended to take into account dangerous algorithms. He also argues for the scrapping of online anonymity, as well as an end to partisan primaries, which he argues create an atmosphere of resentment, which itself leads to misinformation.

Of course, the title is a bit misleading in that truth itself, if it is true, can’t actually die: what happens is that individuals become severed from it en masse. Perhaps there’s hope there – and also in this authoritative and well-written book.

George Achebe

Alan Halsall

Foreword by Dominic Cummings

THE DEMON OF UNREST

BY ERIK LARSON

Erik Larson’s book covers the period in 1860 between Abraham Lincoln’s election and the severing of the Union, which led in time to the American Civil War. In one sense there is no very good reason for his taking on this subject since it has been covered so many times from every conceivable angle.

Yet, of course, the present has a curious way of renewing history. Larson’s motivation is the 6th January riots on Capitol Hill. Indeed, he writes that he was ‘riveted’ by the events of that day and struck by the ‘eerie feeling that past and present had merged’. ‘Riveted’ is an odd word in that sentence, and the news that certain themes occur in history is hardly an earth-shattering one.

But what Larson lacks in originality he makes up for in execution by cunningly lasering in, as he has done in his previous works, on a small cross section of events and players, thus illuminating things more than a more sweeping history would have done. In particular, Larson concentrates on the surrender of Fort Sumter in November 1860 – the last outpost of Federal authority in the South which soon would leave the Union.

Will Trump fragment the Union? The book seems to imply that he might try, though it isn’t clear from the evidence of his first Administration that he’s competent enough to do so, even if he were to try. But even so, this is a fine and detailed work by one of our best popular historians.

Iris Spark

CHESS

Sometimes, impatient just to have things happen I take your pawn, knowing you’ll take mine. How else will the game develop? We can’t skirt each other endlessly, and I respect how the game deprives us both of room. Better to get on with it: brotherhood doesn’t exist on this board.

Instead, there’s hardship, competition – this medieval game, a form of early capitalism.

I love the pensive bishops, the tangential rooks.

I love the knights, their horses flailing in battle –but they keep jumping into the future where the tanks and the nuclear bombs are: aggression rises as it does in modern nations. Even today, we still experience the frail type, whose power is predominantly symbolic who can only dodder one space at a time. And then there is the truly regal one –who, suddenly, half by chance, finds supremacy –like the queen moving along a vector nobody had foreseen, and she transforms our life.

Laura Murray

LETTER FROM JAPAN

NEXT YEAR WILL BE 70 YEARS ON FROM HIROSHIMA.

CHRISTOPHER JACKSON REMEMBERS HIS TIME THERE AS WE APPROACH A LANDMARK WHICH TOUCHES US ALL

Beforemy first journey to Japan, ten years ago, I felt as though I may as well have been going to the moon. Japan has always seemed like the strongest possible immersion in otherness: we move through this country as grateful aliens, only vaguely twigging, sensing with wide, astonished eyes that nothing here is done as we would do it.

But it invites the thought that if this place is strange to us, then perhaps we’re strange too – and this, like any worthwhile travel, engenders a humility we can take with us once we return from orbit.

You can get a vague measure of all that Japan has given the world by the words we recognise: kimono, haiku,

sushi, seppuku, geisha, karate, to name only a few. In our Western lives, these references – and many more – are sprinkled along our understanding. To visit Japan is to experience their radical compression into a continuous texture. All these little individual strangenesses of which we are sometimes subtly aware jostle in competition to delight and bewilder us. If we take those words alone, this is a land where women swish the streets in gorgeous robes; where poems are fleeting syllabic glimpses of the seasons; where the food comes in ingenious rice parcels topped with raw fish; where even suicide occurs according to some form of elaborate code, as if, even though one is voluntarily departing life one is still tethered to some gory

set of historical reference points; where women of a certain kind of attainment are worshipped in the streets; and where violence is for some reason balletic and refined. This is Japan – and yes, it is strange.

Of course, it’s not quite as strange as it was which acts both as a possible disappointment and also a fortunate anchor for the confused traveller. Historically, Japan’s sheer separateness can be attributed in part to the 200 years’ long policy of Sakoku, lasting roughly from 1650-1853 whereby the Japanese Tokugawa shogunate decreed that there would be very limited trading relationships for all but the Dutch. If we want a sense of that world, then the art of the time, beautiful in its ambition and

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serene detail can help us out. Look at this panoramic by Kyosai (1831-1889). It is a sort of LS Lowry on steroids: a teeming human scene framed by a set of strict architectural lines which, almost like Frank Lloyd Wright’s great houses in America the following century, look unlimited as if they could range forever along an infinite interior. To zoom in with the eye on the untroubled and fascinating individuals which make up the crowd is to feel a certain disquiet about the behaviour of a certain Commodore Matthew Perry who pitched up on July 8th 1853 with four ships in Tokyo Bay. In his blunt American way, he was basically looking for coal; what he did was to open up a nation.

“EVENTUALLY, I ASKED A DIMINUTIVE WOMAN WHERE I COULD BUY A KIMONO, AND, WITH KINDLY EYES, SHE GAVE ME DIRECTIONS.”

It was a both an intrusion, and a liberation: its effect was both an unhappy dilution of what had made Japan so great, and a fortunate fusion of forces. Out of it we get the great canvases of Van Gogh, as much as we get the magnificent Shakespeare adaptations of Kurosawa, not to mention a million sushi restaurants, judo as an Olympic sport and much else besides. Looking back on it, the timing had very precise ramifications in global history: on the one hand it had come too late to reverse in anything like absolute terms Japan’s essential uniqueness which still continues to this day and is there for any visitor to wonder at. On the other hand, it did happen, and some 170 years later we can see that Westernisation altered much that was special about this country.

And what is that exactly? To me, it’s its people: their gentleness, and quiet strength; their exquisite imagination and innate sense of refinement; their kindness and passionate connection with nature. I remember taking a submissive taxi ride to Shibuya, the chief shopping district in Tokyo. In Japan, you have literally no method of communication besides hand actions and slowly repeated English words so you often end up in a trusting silence. I had wanted to pursue the idea of buying my then girlfriend, now wife, a kimono. Lost in a land without signposts, and bereft of language, in a world before

Eventually, I asked a diminutive woman where I could buy a kimono, and, with kindly eyes, she gave me directions. Nodding in a probably puzzled way, as if only incrementally enlightened, I ambled on up a vast street full of Japanese signs, and enormous bustle. Somehow, by a rookie fluke, I did indeed find a kimono shop. As I was browsing the kimonos, I heard a small voice behind me. “Excuse me, thank you, thank you.” It was the same woman who had given me the directions, who had followed me, in order

Google Maps or Waze, I went down a side-street and was soon lost.

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to check up on my progress – a sort of unexpected guardian angel. In the middle of a city of some 20 million people, she needed to know I’d found that kimono. I find it hard to imagine anyone doing something like that in Bond Street, let alone on Fifth Avenue.

This generosity has always been there: it is an aspect of the Japanese way. It was the great missionary Frances Xavier, who came here in 1549, who described the Japanese as ‘the delight of my heart’. Of course, we mustn’t be starry-eyed about any nation, since human beings have a tendency always towards the beastly and the bizarre – but even so I think he was onto something. Some strange episodes have beset Japan in recent years, not least the public murder of former president Shinzo Abe in 2022. Consider also the grim case of Issei Sagawa, known as Pang or the Kobe Cannibal, who became famous for the murder and subsequent cannibalisation of Renée Hartevelt in France in 1981. Declared insane by a French court, he was subsequently

examined and declared sane in Japan. His release meant that he became a minor celebrity here.

Like the stories of mass suicides in Aokigahara, the forest near Mount Fuji which translates as the Sea of Trees, or the stories of old perverted men sitting down next to schoolgirls on trains and snipping surreptitiously with scissors at their skirts, there is something curious going on, a peculiarity of expression both as to good and as to evil.

“TODAY, MOST OF TOKYO LOOKS LIKE MANHATTAN, AND MANY OF ITS MOST FAMOUS BUILDINGS WERE DESIGNED BY WESTERN ARCHITECTS.”

Today, most of Tokyo looks like Manhattan, and many of its most famous buildings were designed by Western architects, although the Imperial Hotel designed by the American architect Frank Lloyd Wright nods to Japanese culture. One sometimes gets the impression that the most crucially distinctive aspects of Japan are in its museums – but even these are just as likely to surface in our own museums as theirs. Hokusai exhibitions are a relatively common occurrence in London – there was a vast retrospective a few years back in the British Museum – and there is currently an exhibition Yoshida: Three Generations of Japanese Printmaking at the Dulwich Picture Gallery. In that show, well worth seeing, one of the themes is Japan’s interaction with the rest of the world.

But as I walked through this city, and attended work meetings, I began to cherish the differences and peer past the similarities which, known to me already, didn’t interest me as much. As

an example, at a meeting of lawyers, both Western and Japanese, I sat down on the chair nearest the door. After the meeting, the Western lawyer told me that I had in fact committed a considerable faux-pas. In Tokyo, it is rude to sit in such a seat as, if there is an earthquake warning, everybody will need to leave and so positioning oneself close to an exit suggests that one would seek to save one’s own skin. I hadn’t offended anyone – my Western-ness was baked in, but it still went against Japanese convention.

Accordingly, I became fascinated by the lives of these Westerners who had made

the transition into another way of life.

One lawyer, a charming man called Steve Lewis, then working for Herbert Smith Freehills, and now working at his own firm Lewis Mathys Emmerson, struck me especially vividly. His new firm seems to be doing well since I approached his business development team via a hopeless black hole email address only to be met with the wall of silence which only successful law firms can afford to send out to the world. The man himself, unreachable as he now seems to be, once proved a delightful guide and showed me a picture of his Western family, all

decked in Japanese dress: an image which was somewhere between an affectionate parody and genuine assimilation.

Steve took me to an evening as surreal as any I have been to: The Parrots at Abbey Road Tokyo, in the Roppongi Hills –Roppongi roughly equates to London’s Soho as a place to explore and get to know. This Beatles tribute band are a fascinating musical linking of arms across nations: they are a sort of weird musical counterpart of the trade deal the Johnson Administration did with this country. As the familiar songs blared out – I recall especially ‘I Saw Her Standing There’ and ‘Twist and Shout’ – the impersonations were so good that Japanese John Lennon really did seem to morph into John Lennon as did all the other Beatles: it was a night of joy, not just because a band which originated in Liverpool plainly matter in Japan, but because the experience, regardless of its infectious wonder, was so magnificently strange and unexpected.

It was good to see musicians making a career in such an effective way – but forging careers appears to be the Japanese way. The employment environment in Japan is an almost suspiciously healthy one. For the past ten years, employment has consistently been over 90 per cent: in 2019-2020, nearly every graduate – 97.8 per cent – went into a job. University courses divide between humanities courses known as ‘Jimukei’ which roughly translates as clerical and ‘Gijutskei’ for the technical or science courses. The first month salary or “Shoninkyu” is between 210,000 and 230,000 yen – just over £1,000 a month. That doesn’t sound like much, but there is room for growth.

Between the age of 55-59 the average salary is over 7,020,000 yen – over £35,000 per annum.

There’s also a healthy, and increasing, international student market with numbers in 2019 reaching 310,000: more than double the figure in 2009. Unsurprisingly, that has led to an increase in international young people

seeking employment – this figure has nearly quadrupled from 8,584 in 2011 to 33,415 in 2022. Very few of these jobs are in manufacturing – most tend to be in retail and professional services, like those internationally mobile lawyers I met all those years ago. These roles are highly competitive because the Japanese companies use the same recruitment processes and quotas which they do for Japanese students. The Japanese use a method of bulk hiring or “Shinsotsu-saiyo” which is unusual, with companies frequently recruiting students while they’re still in school. Western applicants should also know that Japanese universities and vocational schools enrol in April and graduate in March – April 1st is a typical start date for Japanese graduates entering the workforce, with job hunting usually having begun on March 1st the year prior to final grade. Once you’re in, it’s a meritocratic system with salary

increasing according to ability; it is also an environment where, according to data published by the Japanese Business Federation, communication ability and independence are highly valued.

“THOUGH IT IS A DIFFICULT ECONOMY TO ENTER, ONCE ASSIMILATED YOU’RE INVOLVED IN ONE OF THE LARGEST AND MOST PROSPEROUS ECONOMIES IN THE WORLD.”

But though it is a difficult economy to

enter, once assimilated you’re involved in one of the largest and most prosperous economies in the world. Like the UK, it’s an economy dominated by services. It’s also the fourth largest in the world after the US, China and Germany by many measures, though behind India and the UK in others. It has the world’s second largest automobile industry, and also often leads on international patent filings data proving that it is one of the world’s most innovative economies. Companies like Toyota, Nissan, Panasonic and Sony are, of course, household names globally.

The scale of Tokyo is a surprise even to a Londoner who might think they’re used to the big city. The night after I went to see the Parrots I decided to get up early and go and see the Tsukiji fish market, and I’m glad I did: the market would close in 2018 – Tokyo, like London, isn’t immune to the modern habit of occasionally demolishing the things

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that have made it special. Perhaps they are simply confident in the knowledge they can always build something else. In Tsujiki, and in its successor Toyosu, you could see the city’s diet coming in from the over-fished seas: I thought of all the sushi that would be consumed that day, and walked in and out of the stalls, feeling foreign to it all – my lack of knowledge of Japanese and my lack of knowledge about fishing making me feel like a visitor from some other planet.

But Japan and England are similar in some respects. Superficially, both countries might be said to have a highly layered society where status is often impossible to comprehend unless you are born into it. Whereas Japan’s uniqueness was developed in the privacy of the Sakoku policy, the English sense of difference was given freedom to develop by the supremacy of first our navy and then our leading the way in the Industrial Revolution: power meant that difference

couldn’t be checked; for Japan, secrecy meant the same.

Both countries too seem comfortable with the idea of a Royal Family – as was seen when the Japanese Emperor visited Charles III during the recent General Election campaign. It is as if an intricate social and political system, full of nuance and even misdirection, is something to be both accepted but at the same time turned away from: and where can one turn but nature?

It all comes out in the wash in the countries’ contributions to art. There is something recognisable in the feel for nature of the great Japanese painters, which strikes me as not so different to the English masters. And so we see beautiful cherry blossom, little birds, and panels of creatures with whom we feel an innate love and sympathy. It was Flaubert who read Shakespeare and, perhaps a little provocatively if you’re English, exclaimed: “La poesie francaise!”

I often found myself looking at these little pictures and thinking how English it seemed.

Both countries have their great symbols, under which the great sea of life of their capital cities contends. In Britain it is the Houses of Parliament; in Japan, it is Mount Fuji – a symbol of grandeur beyond the teeming city. But this also marks a point of difference: Japan opens up onto a more hostile nature than Britain’s does, which in turns gives a different motivation to their exquisite nature painting: in a land of earthquake and tsunami – another melancholy Japanese word which has been exported – to paint a flower is a form of reconcilement to nature, and a different artistic statement to the sort an English painter might make in a country where calamity doesn’t seem to happen on such a grand scale. In fact, in the UK, Constable and Turner have had to summon a scale in their pictures which

often doesn’t seem to be there when you visit the actual sites which they painted: any visitor to the Hay Wain itself will have remarked on its smallness. The magic was Constable’s.

Fuji boasts a different scale to anything we boast in England – even in the Lake District. Leaving Tokyo drives the point home further. Aboard the Shinkhansen, by the time you’ve been hurtling at seemingly light speed out of the city you think that if you were going at the same speed out of London, you’d be in Wales by now – but here, you’ve still not left Tokyo. That takes around 45 minutes, and then the train bullets through to Kyoto, where things change again. Perhaps the

closest analogy would be arriving in Cambridge after London, but it would need to be a Cambridge which had once been the capital of the country, and which had another city – in this case Nara, just next to it, which had also held that honour.

I recommend too a visit to the Ryõanji garden which will alter your idea of what a garden can be – a few rocks next to a pavilion, where you find yourself considering the energy between different aspects of creation, until a strange peace comes over you.

But throughout my time, I knew I would have to visit Hiroshima. Though the UK wasn’t responsible for Truman’s decision to drop the atomic bomb first on Hiroshima and then on Nagasaki, one can’t, if one is Western, escape some minor sense of guilt: perhaps in fact it is a human guilt which we now all carry, and which we see effectively dramatised in Christopher Nolan’s Oppenheimer (2023). If you come here, you half-expect to be quizzed about your role in it all –even though I was born 35 years after Hiroshima, it still feels too close wholly to escape responsibility. It is a historical event so enormous that we all inherit it. The atomic bomb turns out to be a curious juxtaposition of human brilliance and human cruelty – and it also seems, in our worst estimation of ourselves, to have something to do with our future.

So many people died that day, and many others afterwards – the total figure may be as high as 146,000 – that even the magnificent museum there feels somehow insufficient. It is as if whatever we do it won’t be enough to quite undo the fact that we did this – and that the act itself opens too precisely onto who we are. In a curious way, to paraphrase Flaubert, one ends up saying, Hiroshima, C’est moi.

So that the otherness of Japan opens up onto these questions which are too big to resolve – because this terrible crime is an aspect of our collective identity. And yet, as we get over the appalling stories of that day, we must also admit that we have this other side too that is dismayed by our worser angels. This is Japan –an extraordinary place to learn about yourself according to all that you’re not and all that you didn’t directly do. Unsplash.com

Kyoto is famous for its pavilions –Golden and Silver, the former the subject of a famous, but pretty miserable novel by Yukio Mishima. More generally, it’s known for its geishas of which there are now around 300 working in Kyoto. I happened to see one down a side street which a man was hurriedly bowing to as one might bow only to the monarch, or perhaps a film celebrity in the UK.

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CLASS DISMISSED RICHARD DESMOND

THE SUCCESSFUL PUBLISHER AND FOUNDER OF THE HEALTH LOTTERY ON THE NEXT GENERATION, THE SUCCESS OF OK! MAGAZINE – AND NOT SWITCHING OFF

TELL US A LITTLE ABOUT YOUR UPBRINGING. WHAT DO YOU THINK PARENTS WOULD SAY IF THEY COULD SEE YOUR SUCCESS TODAY?

Look, I think they’d be incredibly proud. My father was the managing director of a cinema advertising chain Pearl & Dean and he used to take me to meetings. I have been in a lot of interesting meetings since; I can tell you that.

YOU LEFT SCHOOL AT 15 AND HAVE FOUGHT YOUR WAY TO THE TOP. DO YOU THINK THE UNIVERSITY SYSTEM HAS BECOME LESS SUCCESSFUL AT PREPARING YOUNG PEOPLE FOR THE WORKPLACE?

Universities are good for some students – but I reckon they’re not always right if you want to start a business. Parents are better off carefully thinking about what kind of offspring they have: don’t just send them to university if they have entrepreneurial flair.

DID YOU HAVE A MENTOR IN YOUR EARLY DAYS OF BUSINESS?

Yes, but I always made my own decisions. I have tried to inspire the next generation and tell them when they are wrong. The main reason people fail in business is just that - lack of clarity of purpose.

WHAT ADVICE WOULD YOU GIVE TO YOUNG PEOPLE TODAY LOOKING TO START THEIR OWN BUSINESSES?

It is tough out there and the sooner you realise that the better. You need resilience, the ability to sell and to champion your purpose – I can tell you that business is also a hell of a lot of fun when you win.

WHY DO YOU THINK OK! ENDED UP SURPASSING HELLO! IN THE MARKET?

We were in tune with the markets: people wanted our product and we knew it. That meant that we were able to live and breathe it, knowing that we would be successful. I also think we invested in the right features: never underestimate the value of good editorial – and when you see a good story, put your money behind it.

HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT SIR KEIR STARMER’S ADMINISTRATION?

He claims to be the party of wealth creation. It is probably better for me not to say anything just yet, although I am known for my expletives. Sometimes the wisest course of action is for me to try and remain silent.

WHAT DID THE WRITING OF THE REAL DEAL TEACH YOU ABOUT YOURSELF AND YOUR PAST CAREER?

No doubt about it - most absorbing experience of my life. I remember being very busy writing it. It’s a fascinating experience to draw it all together – the threads of your life. Some of my best friends and worst adversaries told me that they couldn’t put it down.

THE HEALTH LOTTERY IS A PASSION OF YOURS. WHAT COMMUNITY PROJECTS ARE YOU MOST PROUD OF HAVING SUPPORTED BECAUSE OF THIS INITIATIVE?

I’ve a very simple philosophy on this. Don’t do anything you’re not proud of. I don’t believe in going into any project without believing absolutely in its importance.

HOW DO YOU SWITCH OFF FROM WORK?

I never switch off – the lights never go out here!

WHAT IS YOUR LEGACY AND HOW WOULD YOU LIKE TO BE REMEMBERED?

It is far too soon to be thinking about that. However, allow me to look back with great pride for my own part in the Battle of Britain Monument which I helped get built against all the odds!