It's been a while

Ever had one of those periods in your life where you are so busy that it doesn't seem possible to do any more...

...and then the demands get greater and realise you can do more?

My Dad used to say 'I'm so busy I've met meself coming back!'

Never was very sure what he meant but he is from Suffolk after all!

Anyway, that's what's been happening to Renee and me over the passed few weeks.  The business has become very busy (and long may it continue, by the way... don't for one minute think I'm complaining) and it's been a little difficult to lift the ol' head up above the parapet for anything, let alone blog.

We've been working some pretty decent hours, like many people, and I was having a think as to why that might be.

Of course, I've been asking recently if anyone knows of any accountants who might want a change of scenery - we still have a vacancy for a new team member if anyone knows anyone - which means we're short staffed.

But that's not the fundamental reason for the long hours.  No, the reason is because of a thing called the one third rule.

We reckon that a third of our turnover should go on overheads, things like the rent and software and marketing and 'phone bills and... well, you get the picture.  Another third goes on our salary bill (or should do) and the final third ends up as profit (eventually) when we stop growing.

Our salary bill is not 1/3 of our turnover at the moment which means that the slack has to be taken up somewhere...and it's by us (or more accurately, mostly Renee).  As our salary bill falls behind our turnover we always see an increase in Renee's hours.

The secret then should be to have a salary bill that's 1/3 of turnover.  Wehay (said the staff) let's just put all our wages up.

Doesn't quite work like that, of course.  Because increased salary has to equate to increased production and when the team is at capacity that means bringing in new team members.

Although very interesting when I think about it in these terms it all amounts to the same thing.  We need a couple of members of staff.

Ideally we are looking for qualified accountants (or nearly qualified) who have worked in an accountancy practice and want to stay with a business while it expands rapidly.

They need to be customer focussed, efficient and generally wonderful in every way.

In return we'll pay them up to £30,000 and they'll have a stonkingly good time working in a fast paced but friendly environment.

Know anyone?

Please let me know: 0131 202 9888.

I'd love to hear from them.

Blood

I've written before about what a circular thing life is and I had that feeling again yesterday.

Standing looking up at the Kensington Close Hotel, a large nondescript grey brick building just off Kensington High Street, I was immediately transported back 28 years to that exact spot.

It was warm, barmy night 28 years ago, too.  I was working for Midland Bank at the time and I had been sent to London.  I had to attend an assessment centre to see if I was suitable material for the new Management Development Programme.

I should have gone to an assessment centre closer to home but missed out, so it was down to the Smoke with a bunch of other hopefuls who couldn't get to their own regional events.

The travel department of dear old Midland Bank sent me a hotel voucher for the Kensington Close Hotel; so there I was, barely 18 years old, staying in London for the first time, wondering if the receptionist would actually accept my scrappy piece of paper.

Well, they did... I had a room and everything.

It was a hot night so I thought I'd have a bath before getting something to eat.  I had the TV on too... it was a World Cup game from Mexico '86.

When it came time to get out of the bath I stepped on a slippery patch.  My foot went from under me and I sliced the back of my ankle on a sharp edge at the bottom of the bath panel.  It wasn't a bad cut and it didn't hurt when I did it... but I just couldn't stop it bleeding.

I soaked a couple of towels and left bloody footprints across the bathroom floor and on the carpet in the bedroom

Eventually I packed the cut with toilet paper and went out.  I had my first Big Mac on that day, too.

Back in the hotel I peeled off the toilet paper only to find the cut was still bleeding.  Unperturbed I went to bed (having had a couple of drinks, now that I was 18 years old).

And woke up in a scene from a horror movie.

The sheet on my bed was soaked with blood - I must have tossed and turned in the night - and there was blood all over the bathroom towels, too, as well as on the carpets and across the bathroom floor.  Heaven knows what the cleaner would have made of the room.

Anyway, I did the only thing I could think of: I checked out without saying anything, hoping beyond hope the hotel wouldn't call my employer to tell them what an awful chap I was.

And now, 28 years later, here I am again, looking up at that same building.  It hasn't changed from the outside; the sounds, sights and smells are all just as I remember them from 28 years ago.

I even have a pang, wondering whether my name has pinged on their booking system: 'Lambert - charge him for the bloody sheets he ruined last time he was here!'    

Worried

Sometimes I wished I didn't worry quite so much.

It seems to me that sometimes some people are able to breeze through life not worrying about... well, things really.  And I'm very envious of them.

Like the bloke on Bedford Railway Station this morning.  His trousers were very ruffled around his ankles.  That would worry me.  In fact, I worry that my trousers are too ruffled and I worry if they are half mast.

I worry that I'm putting on a bit of weight... and yet most people I see are bigger than me.  At least those of the same age.

And that's another thing.  I've suddenly released that I'm 46.  How did that happen?  It's a worry.

I worry if my 'phone doesn't ring or if it's ringing too much, I worry about what people think and if they don't think at all.  I worry about conflict (which I'm not good at, at all) but it really annoys me when someone throws a cigarette butt on the floor.

Enough already!

So, what's the secret of those people who seem to weave their way through life taking all these things in their stride.  I want some of that.

I bet there's a couple of things going on.

I bet firstly, I worry no more and no less than most people.  Everyone (or at least most people) have worries.  Secondly, I bet those people who seem more worry free worry just as much as everyone else.

The up shot of all that is, of course, that I shouldn't worry so much.

Care, there's a different kettle of fish.

Change the word 'worry' and replace it with 'care' and suddenly it doesn't seem so bad.  I do care about all those things, whether they were said tongue in cheek or not.  But I'd rather care than not.

Caring drives us to do the right things, to be better and think carefully about consequences when we decide on a course of action.  Caring is what differentiates one person from another.

For example, for better or for worse I do care what people think and feel.  That makes me think very carefully before saying or doing things that are going to impact on them.  It can a tricky path to steer and sometimes I think too much about others and not enough about me, but hey ho.

In fact, I think I might do a bit more thinking about others and see what effect it has.

Oh, and I might go on a proper diet, too.

London

As some of you know (because you gave some really good suggestions) I had a Lad and Dad weekend with my son last week.

He's 14 and loves his Xbox.

He also gets out and about with his mates and they do a fair amount of mucking about - which I think is great; just what boys should do, although I'm fairly pleased not to know all the detail of what he gets up to.  For example, a few months ago I asked how his Saturday had been.

'Alright,' he grunted. 'We found an old supermarket trolley in the woods and took it in terms to sit in it while the others pushed as fast they could.  Then we found a dart and tried to see who could throw it closest to someone else's foot without them flinching.'

Hmmm...

Anyway, it was with a certain amount of trepidation that I was facing the weekend.  Would he enjoy himself?  Would it just be a chore for him?  Would he be interested in stuff?

I needn't have worried.  We did so much... here it is in order.

We started with a Wetherspoon's breakfast to fortify ourselves for the day.  Then it was up Tower Bridge for the Tower Bridge Experience - including across the walkways 42 metres above the Thames!  Very interesting it was, too.

Then on to HMS Belfast, which was excellent, as well.  We spent 2 hours on the warship.

We took a tube 'up west' to Leicester Square where we bought tickets for a play.  (I thought Adam would want to see a show but he suggested we went to see Jeeves and Wooster... having seen a bit of it on the telly a couple of weeks ago).

From Leicester Square we went to Piccadilly Circus, across to Trafalgar Square, Downing Street, The Palace of Westminster.  We bought a sandwich and sunbathed on St James's Park, walked down the Mall to Buckingham Palace and back up Bird Cage Walk to Horsguards, back on to Whitehall and eventually to Leicester Square for a drink.

Then it was a steakhouse for dinner.  8oz sirloin turned up raw together with a very hot stone and we cooked it ourselves in different flavoured sauces.

Jeeves and Wooster, set in the 1920s and based on the P G Wodehouse characters, was very funny.  I wasn't sure Adam would enjoy it but he certainly seemed to and I know I did.

So back to the hotel for 11.30 - exhausted... or at least I was!

Thank you for all your suggestions... we couldn't do them all so we'll just have to go back for another go!

Time

I've been thinking about time recently.

Not in the usual, very practical way - as in 'OMG I don't have enough time to do everything' - but in more an abstract way.

I was thinking specifically about the way time fixes images in my mind.

The middle school I went to was called Roman Hill Middle School.  I started there in 1978, so this memory comes from either 1978 or 1979; 36 years ago.  And it's as clear today as when I was there.

It was school assembly and it was being taken by a teacher called Mr Wilkinson.  I was never in his form, nor did I have any lessons with him.  I don't think I ever interacted with him 1 to 1.  Mr Wilkinson told a story about a runner who didn't have a great running technique but was winning everything because he tried hard... or as Mr Wilkinson put it, 'He had guts.'

It was the usual moral stuff given out in school assemblies.

For some reason I thought about that assembly, as I have every so often in the intervening period, and consequently, Mr Wilkinson, too.  In my mind he is fixed at that point of time, 36 years ago.  Tweed jacket, patches on the elbows, comfortable shoes, permanent 5 O'Clock shadow, sandy coloured hair, about 50 years old.  I can even remember where I was sitting: about fifteen rows back from the front, slightly to the left hand side of the school hall.

It was with some shock that I realised Mr Wolkinson would now be 86, if he's still alive.

I thought about it some more and it's a common theme, this fixing a memory at a point in time.  I remember being introduced to a friend's girlfriend in 1986, it was the only time I ever met this girl and I never knew her name.  We were all 18 and her image is fixed in my memory at that point... she's now 46 years old.

It's not worrying me per se, because I don't worry about things like time passing; there's nothing I can do about it and there's lots of other things to worry about.

But it did remind me that time is not linear; seconds, minutes, hours and days are simply human constructs to help us make sense of the journey we're on.  Actually I can jump back in time 36 years instantly - that single point in time in school assembly is imprinted on my memory exactly how it was.

It also reminded me that it's very important to raise your head every so often to look around at the world.

These fixed point events must be important for some reason (the assembly about the runner with guts was pretty much the same as a hundred other assemblies I had to sit through and yet it it stuck)... but why are they important?

I think these fixed point in time memories serve a couple of purposes.  They give us reference points in our lives, like landmarks on a long drive.  They serve as reminders of where we've come from.

But I think they serve another purpose but I can't fathom what it is... or at least if I do know it's sub-conscious.  The assembly about the runner hasn't inspired me in my life, I don't think, and it didn't mean anything at the time, either.

It may be they remind us to lift our heads from the humdrum day to day which accounts for the vast majority of our time.  If we don't we run the danger of not noticing the important things that give us these reference points for everything else and are clearly important moments in time.

'Time is a companion on the journey.  It reminds us to cherish every moment on the way.'

Who came out with that philosophical pearl of wisdom?

It was Jean Luc Picard.  Who said Star Trek wasn't very cultural?

Laughter

We had a strange session earlier today in the office.

At was Renee's brainchild after she met Jo Bluett, whose business card lists her job title as 'Laughter Consultant.'

I think you can probably see where this is going.

Monday morning, the team turns up for work and Jo turns up right behind them.  We stand in a circle and Jo explains a little bit about Laughter Yoga and the science (which is fascinating) behind it.

For example, most people have heard of endorphins, the body's natural happy drug.

Did you know, though , endorphins can help lower blood pressure, slow the onset of early Alzheimer's disease and are natural stress busters?

And one of the best ways to release endorphins into the body is through laughter... and it doesn't even have to be natural laughter, it can be faked. You still get the same benefits.  Graham Eden from Contempo Lettings who rents a desk with us and was roped in to the session, asked me sotto voce whether it was the same with an orgasm, but I didn't know.

So, picture the scene if you will.  We're in the conservatory bit of our office with four massive windows.  Or to put it another way: with no-where to hide: yes, those big windows you can see on the corner.

With people standing at the bus stop, driving and walking past all looking at us or trying to ignore what was going on.  The strange thing was, when they saw what we were doing, lots of them started smiling, too.

We're standing in a circle and Jo takes us through a series of exercise that all involve laughter... and singing and being silly.

So, for example, Jo wanted us to walk up to everyone else and (if they were a lady) say: 'You are the most incredible Goddess.'  If you were a bloke, it was the same, only 'You are the most incredible God.'  And in response we had to say 'Thank you.'

I have to say there was a fair bit of self consciousness to start with, not least from me, but think about it for a minute.  As Jo said, 'How many times do we pay others compliments, even when we see them doing something incredible (or even something just plain 'good')?  And then the other side of the coin, when we're paid a compliment, how often do we belittle it?

'You look great today!'  'No I don't, I look fat!'

Anyway, even though self consciousness was the name of the day it didn't 'alf get people giggling to be forced to walk up to a colleague and saying 'You really are the most incredible Goddess.'

There were several more exercises based around movement, breathing and laughing.  It has to be said, Andy was the star of the show.  Once Jo started him off he just couldn't stop himself laughing and we all followed suit.  His laughs were very big and very genuine... as he said afterwards: 'I love to laugh'.

I for one, would have thought Andy was a little less extrovert, so I'm really glad I got to see him chortling!

The upshot of all this were very many red faces in the office, quite a lot of pointing from passers by, but also an awful lot of laughing, too.  Some of it was even natural.

As a result I'm going to try laughing a little more... I might do it where no-where can see me to start with, though!

You can find out more about Jo and how she helps people by visiting her website: www.laughterforhealth.co.uk

Travelodge

I have to say I'm a little fed up with Travelodge... not withstanding the fact that it's a fine institution for the traveller on a budget.

But this week, I've had my fill and I want to come home.

It's been a strange old week, even by my standards in that I seem to have travelled across most of the sound of England, which has been pleasant enough given the time of year.

I was up at three on Sunday morning to drive from Edinburgh to Lowestoft and I left in the light, which was nice.  It's my Dad's birthday next week and he wanted to take all of us out to the Chinese Buffet in Norwich.  The plan was I would then leave from Norwich to drive to Kidderminster this shortening my journey by about half an hour.

The plan worked out in almost every detail except one.  I left my wallet at my parent's house and so had to drive back to Lowestoft (which is as far east in Britain as you can get without falling off the edge) before coming back west to Kidderminster.

I was quite tired when I arrived at Travelodge, Kidderminster ( which is next to the Watermill pub).

Monday and Tuesday were delivery days at ChipsAway.  The two day business building programme was, shall we say, challenging and leave it at that.

Then it was into the car and down to Bedford for a coaching session before driving on to Travelodge, Cheshunt where I had pre-paid for my dinner.  My beef lasagne was microwaved to perfection (including the salad) and indeed was hot almost all the way through.

It was four miles up the road to Waltham Abbey the next morning for three more coaching sessions.  The first was scheduled for 10.30 and when it got to the appointed time and no-one had arrived I got a little suspicious.  I called the fella and was met with the classic response: 'Oh,was it today?'

Doh!

I emailed the organiser of the coaching sessions and received a three word response: 'That bloody man!'

Anyway two good coaching sessions happened and it was in the car onto the M25 and across the Dartford Crossing (where I sat for half an hour... although the view up the river was excellent in the sunshine) to Travelodge, Dorking.

This is my first visit to Dorking and the outskirts at least seem to be very nice.  Don't think I'm going to see too much more though.

By the way, by some strange twist of fate, the closest pub to Travelodge, Dorking also turns out to be called The Watermill.  Am I stuck is some strange Surrey based version of Groundhog Day?

Tomorrow morning it's back in the car for the trip to Redhill, three more coaching sessions and then the drive from Surrey to Edinburgh.

The funny things is, I've stayed in three Travelodges this week and I now have three emails asking me to complete a short questionnaire about my recent stay... one for each hotel.

My problem is that they're all indistinguishable from each other... which on another day, in another life would be a good thing.  Consistency, after all, is the name of the game!