Dig your heels in; up your game; demand quality: What I've learnt in 58 years

Look gang! We made it to a jigsaw. Prizes for anyone who can name the cultural references that my lovely friend Erin (with help from my daughter) chose to put on the present she had made for my birthday this week.

I can't be bothered with the News - basically, we're all doomed - so I'm going to don out some words of wisdom as I reflect on the last 58 years.

Know your Strengths & Stick to them

Many years ago, when I was a novice management consultant, the powers that be took us all to an away day in the Lake District (Richard, if you're there, you may remember that I drove you from the airport).

Once there, we were told that "Technology" was the future. We had to choose - BAAN, SAP or Peoplesoft - "ERP systems", whatever they were. I listened politely and chose to ignore the instruction. Figured out if I was the only one doing so they wouldn't mind too much. Decided to focus on "change management" despite having very little idea what this was about, save that it didn't involve coding.

I survived.

It's something I always tell candidates coming to us for help returning to work. "Play to your strengths". Remember all those performance reviews where the appraiser focused on your weaknesses? Waste of time, you're never going to change them. I will never be a completer finisher, yes I'm great at launching things and I know I need others to help follow them through. That's what teams are for.

The Better your Opponent, the Better you Play

As you're aware, my son and I love the odd (well, not odd actually, rather regular when we're in the same house) game of scrabble. A few months ago my mum was down and she joined us. She was HOPELESS. It was a competition to see who could follow her turn because, not only did she score quite lowly, she left the board wide open for the next person.

Well, guess what. She came to stay again last week, we invited her to play (to be polite) and she BEAT us.

She looked, listened, learnt and upped her game.

We're onto a rally of five games so far and I still haven't won one. (This may be helped by the fact that I'm the only one partaking in a little can of margarita at the same time).

There's a life lesson right there. Play in a quality field and your own game will improve.

(Sadly, the reverse is also true ... see what's happening with politicians here and over the pond).

Life is Too Short to Endure a Crap Book/Play/Experience

I started reading The Wren, The Wren by Anne Enright because all the critics said it was really good. It may be well written but it just made me feel sad and a bit sick. So I stopped. I almost made it through to the end of A Little Life because we were reading it for book club but I gave up before the end and no amount of five start reviews would induce me to see the play.

I went to a tiny local theatre with my friend Deb not long ago, to see The Flea. "If it's rubbish I'm leaving at half time" I warned her. I was serious. It was seriously FABULOUS so I stayed.

Crap bosses, toxic cultures, organisations lacking ethics, walk away.

I've seen people stay for all sorts of reasons - "it will change" (it won't), "I'll struggle to get the same gig somewhere else" (you will if you stay there), "I need the money" (yes and therefore you need your mental health to be intact) ...

Be brave, believe in yourself, define what you will and won't put up with.

The Challenge of Parenting: Not Easier, Just Different

A few months ago, I was approached for advice by an MD at an Investment Bank. She'd asked permission to return home late in the afternoon to be with her two daughters, promising then to log on again later. Her boss was unsympathetic.

Putting aside the notion of having to put in 80 hour weeks for a moment, let's just look at the question of having a couple of hours with her daughters.

For her, it wasn't about bath time and bed time, her daughters are 14 and 16. She just wanted to be able to have dinner with them. Not because they would necessarily pour their hearts and souls out about what's going on in their lives but on the off chance that they might.

Someone coined the phrase "Bigger kids, bigger problems" and whilst I'm not sure that's 100% true, I do think that as your kids get older, you don't worry any less, you just worry about other things.

Find Your Tribe

Which is why it's also extremely important to keep your own identity, have your own friends, do your own thing, find your own tribe.

The Culture Bit

I watched: England play football. Boring and stressful at the same time. A bit like parenting but without the payoff in the long run.

I'm also watching: Yellowstone. Don't know how I missed it and I'm not entirely sure how I feel about it. Entertaining though.

I'm listening to: When it hits the fan podcast. David Yelland and Simon Davies on PR matters. Quite interesting

I'm reading: Clear by Carys Davies. The critics have it as one of the best books of 2024 thus far. I'm in agreement.

I'm also reading out loud: Seamus Heaney. My neighbour bought me a beautiful book of his poetry, so I'm reading a poem a day. I think you have to read poems out loud. Shame I can't do an Irish accent. This is my favourite so far (read it out loud) or watch the man himself.

Digging, by Seamus Heaney

Between my finger and my thumb???

The squat pen rests; snug as a gun.

Under my window, a clean rasping sound???

When the spade sinks into gravelly ground:???

My father, digging. I look down

Till his straining rump among the flowerbeds???

Bends low, comes up twenty years away???

Stooping in rhythm through potato drills???

Where he was digging.

The coarse boot nestled on the lug, the shaft???

Against the inside knee was levered firmly.

He rooted out tall tops, buried the bright edge deep

To scatter new potatoes that we picked,

Loving their cool hardness in our hands.

By God, the old man could handle a spade.???

Just like his old man.

My grandfather cut more turf in a day

Than any other man on Toner’s bog.

Once I carried him milk in a bottle

Corked sloppily with paper. He straightened up

To drink it, then fell to right away

Nicking and slicing neatly, heaving sods

Over his shoulder, going down and down

For the good turf. Digging.

The cold smell of potato mould, the squelch and slap

Of soggy peat, the curt cuts of an edge

Through living roots awaken in my head.

But I’ve no spade to follow men like them.

Between my finger and my thumb

The squat pen rests.

I’ll dig with it.