Sunday 23 June 2013

Prick up your nose, or never knowingly overestimated


Unidentified rose from my garden, possibly Roseraie de L'Hay
Everything’s coming up roses
Now is the time to appreciate roses. Pay court to Her Royal Highness, La Reine des Violettes. Or sit, if you dare, beneath a Rambling Rector. But wait until the evening, when old roses are at their most expansive, posing in mixed borders, or lolling over fences. Get close to a prickly old beauty, and inhale.

Henry Cecil, the legendary race-horse trainer, grew roses. When he had visitors to his stables at Warren Place, Cecil liked to show them his roses first. He knew all their names and habits, but he didn’t do any of the digging. Cecil had the same approach to growing roses, as he had to training race-horses. He knew what wanted, and he made suggestions. Cecil liked to win, and he knew how to get results by working through others.

Good growers and difficult deaths
I once had a garden with old roses, the prickly kind, with purple heads, and grey-tinged leaves. Unlike Cecil, I did all my own digging and pruning. I collected horse-manure in black plastic bags from urban stables. Friends, who knew about these things, said the horse-manure was not yet mature; warned me that it would burn the roses if allowed to come in contact with the stems. I put it on, anyhow. What I enjoyed was watching the roses grow, and flower, and fade. Each day there would be something new to see and admire, or fret about. Some roses look better when they are giving up the ghost. Others, like Albertine, don’t die well. After Albertine has flowered, the rose-heads stick around on the branches, and turn a stubborn brown.

Acting a bit sniffy
Since I moved house, I have had to rely on other people’s gardens for a rose fix. I want to be amazed, but even in the red velvet presence of a William Lobb, I feel indifferent. These roses are nothing to me. They are not yet in bloom, or they have just ‘gone over’. And even when the flowers are in peak condition, the perfume is pathetic, and the petals are too pink. None of the specimens in other people’s gardens makes me speechless.

Never knowingly overestimated
Why am I insensible to other people’s flowers? Is it a question of ownership? Something clicked, when, along with 500 others, I went to hear Rolf Dobelli talking about his book ‘The Art of Thinking Clearly’. Rolf was charming, modest and immediately disarming. He said he never expected so many people to come. According to Rolf, it is much more common that we overestimate our knowledge than we underestimate it.  Rolf is debonair. Swiss, he could pass for Italian, any day. In his book, Rolf describes different types of ‘bias’. For example, someone we know sets up their own business, and does extremely well. Because they are like us, we overestimate our chances of doing the same thing. We forget that most start-ups fail within a few years. Rolf calls this ‘Survivorship Bias’.

Now that Rolf has implanted the idea of bias in my mind, I think I may be suffering from ‘Ownership Bias’. Parents dote on their children, and people with pets – in my experience – are just as bad. So it is with me, and the roses that I have grown. Having prepared the soil, planted, fed, and pruned a rose, not to mention the hours spent tying back an unruly climber, I may well overestimate their good points. Naturally, I am amazed when a rose that I have grown flowers for the first time. I wonder if Henry Cecil suffered from ‘Ownership Bias’? Or did he just need to find a use for all that horse-manure? I think I’ll write to Rolf about this. I am sure he will be interested.

23 June 2103

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Saturday 8 June 2013

Town or Country? Could you live in a small island community?


Caroline and Vic catching up on their holiday reading
"I'm so tired of the squalor and the grime of the city" Richard Rodney Bennett, 1978

I remember, in the 1980s, quite sensible people decided to leave London and move to Brighton, or the West Country. ‘To hell with London’ they said.  And having packed up, and shacked up, by the sea or in the woods, how they did go on about not missing London at all.

I stayed, because I could go to ‘Pizza on the Park’ to see jazz singers like Richard Rodney Bennett and Marion Montgomery. I once heard them do “Let’s go and live in the country”. It’s a comic duet written by Bennett about a couple who flirt with the idea of living in the country, and then rush back to the city, because they are allergic to hay, and know they couldn't cope if the roof started to leak. I used to agree with them.

Recently, however, I’ve been having thoughts about going to live by the sea, getting an Irish Terrier, and growing vegetables. A short holiday in the Western Isles of Scotland gave me a chance to weigh the pros and cons of staying put, or going for a complete life change. This is what I learned.

What are the gains of island life?
  • The freshest, most gulpable air. In the spring, the island air is even sweeter with the scent of bluebells.
  • Being part of a real community. They have a ceilidh when they think they need one, and anyone can join the dance. Children dance with their parents, and dogs are most welcome.
  • Time goes further, spread over long days and short nights. I had to learn how to take my time. When I rushed to the only shop to buy a missing ingredient for supper, the locals gently reproached me. “People are a bit more relaxed here”.
  • Spirit raising views. The sea and the hills change colour with the light and the weather. Watching Rum from Eigg is like being at a Son et Lumiere show, powered by nature. The best thing about Eigg is the view of Rum, according to the people who live on Rum. But they would say that, wouldn’t they?
What do islanders give up?
  • Globalisation, things like the energy crisis. Eigg produces more electricity than the residents can use
  • Commuting to work; it doesn’t happen
  • Any desire for national or international news. It’s irrelevant
  • Having to remember to take your keys with you. No-one bothers to lock their door
  • Consumerism, though the village shops are well stocked, and Amazon does good business
  • Traffic, except when people are arriving or departing on the ferry
  • Noise, except birdsong and – I suspect – the sound of raindrops and howling gales.
What is the person specification for an islander?

Ability to have many jobs, or none
Islanders have multiple identities, and many hold down different jobs. The Harbour Master, without whom the boat cannot arrive or depart, also drives the electric buggy, mends the road, and tends the trees. The lady who cooked you a splendid dinner, also runs the bakery. Your dance partner at the ceilidh, pops up in the tea shop to serve you coffee and cakes, and later arrives to prepare your accommodation for the next group. Everybody else is unemployed, or has no obvious responsibilities.

Tolerance
You are unlikely to take to island life unless you can learn to tolerate midges, tourists, alcohol, unpredictable weather, and things left where they were last used or needed e.g. tractors, baths, bits of machinery.

Other skills, knowledge and attitudes that will serve you well on a Scottish Island are:
After a week exploring the Western Isles of Scotland, beautiful as it was, I think I will stay in the city, and holiday in the country. I am allergic to hay, and if the roof began to leak, I would definitely need a man with a beard. 

Thanks to everyone living in the small isles who made us feel welcome.

Song: ‘Let’s go and live in the country’1978, Richard Rodney Bennett


8 June 2013


Thanks for reading my blog. If you liked this page, you might like to check out my business website which has more content on leadership and learning.

www.kellowlearning.com