Since then, life has been a constant search for new ways of looking: You can find alternative lenses in the most unexpected places.

Indeed, the less expected, the fresher the view.

In recent weeks, it’s been a book of photographs that has challenged and inspired in equal measure: Iranian Photography Now, a portfolio collated by writer and curator Rose Issa.

And it shows that however stuck you appear to be, there’s always a solution.

LIFE THROUGH A DIFFERENT LENS

You don’t have to be a cultural commentator or an expert on Middle Eastern affairs to know that Iranian artists work under a very strict set of rules. And that’s especially true of women photographers.

In fact, at first pass the terms ‘woman’, ‘photographer’ and ‘Iranian’ seem highly unlikely to occur in the same sentence.

Yet their field is burgeoning and they have become a loud voice in an oppressed world, making statements about themselves, their position in society and the restrictions placed on them.

Take the role of the hejab (scarf), and the expectation of covering one’s head and face in public. Boy, that must make for interesting portraiture?

Shadi Ghadirian has taken it to its logical conclusion; portraits without faces at all. She replaces them with domestic appliances which, as well as creating rather eerie images, makes a statement about many women in Iran who subjugate their individuality, and dedicate themselves to their household duties.

It’s a brilliant solution to a seemingly impossible problem. The no-face portrait.

HOLDING UP A MIRROR

The hejab is the expected attire of women in public; in private, they dress differently. However, there are still expectations about behaviour at home, and the mixing of the sexes. Despite this, it’s an open secret that people hold ‘Western’ parties behind closed doors, often with alcohol.

It’s a part of Iranian reality that’s unshowable.

Yet Amirali Ghasemi has done just that in her photography. Which might sound potentially dangerous – would you want to be photographed in such compromising circumstances?

Her solution is to whiten out the faces and arms (bare arms are forbidden) of her subjects. They are now negative spaces, around whom the party happens.

The extraordinary thing about this solution is that rather than de-humanising the image, her pictures become more universal, no longer a particular group of friends, but of an entire people.

Mehraneh Atashi takes a different approach to the segregation of the sexes. She has created a series of images taken at a zoorkhaneh, a traditional Iranian gymnasium. She used flattery and the power of photography to gain access – dressed in her hejab.

What she didn’t tell her subjects was that by using the mirrors in the rooms, she’d include herself in the pictures.

There are many ways of reading this; her relative size to the men, the fact that she in completely enshrouded, the modernity of her camera technology and the timelessness of the exercise regime. I’ll leave the meaning to you. What’s important here is that she worked within very strict rules to solve a problem and challenge the status quo.

PART OF THE SOLUTION

All three of these artists are making political statements (national, religious and gender). They are brave women doing something important that’s beyond my experience.

What is clear to me is the sheer creativity these photographers have brought to their work. They operate in a world where the permissible is rigidly defined, the forbidden made obvious at every juncture.

Yet they have looked at the rules through different eyes, and found new ways of creating WITH rather than IN SPITE of them.

(These images are not ‘black market’ insurrection; all have been publicly exhibited in Iran.)

All of us in business are faced with seemingly insurmountable obstacles: legislative, competitive, budgetary. But is any of this as apparently restrictive as the Iranian fundamentalist regime?

Next time you’re faced with a problem, remember these photographers and the fact that they use barriers to their advantage – making them part of a creative solution, not an excuse for inaction.

“To do things differently, you have to see things differently.”

J turned 19, and is recently-returned from university. He’s experienced some independence, but is back living in the family home. Already, that makes for an interesting dynamic.

He asked if he could have a barbecue with a few friends to celebrate his birthday.

His mother and I agreed, seeing it as a chance to meet the social circle that he had chosen, rather than the one forced on him at school.

(Even when your children are entering their 20th year, there’s still an obligation to worry. As a wise man told me many moons ago:

“The sleepless nights never go away – but the reason for not sleeping changes over the years.”)

Only after we agreed, did J add: “By the way Dad; I’ll have to look after my guests – would you cook the barbecue?”

You can learn a lot about negotiation from your children.

His friends turned out to be a level-headed bunch – I was happy for all of them to be in the house / garden. Drink was consumed, music was played, jokes were told. And there was a lot of hugging.

It was an incident-free evening.

And for most of it, I was completely, utterly invisible. In my own home.

Usually at a dinner party or barbecue or supper, I’m at the centre of things (or so my wife lets me believe). My responsibility is to entertain and engage. It’s part of being a host.

But at J’s barbecue, I became a utility.

All the guests were polite, with appropriate ‘pleases’ and ‘thank yous’ – yet I might as well have been an outside caterer brought in for the function.

On a stage where I usually have  a speaking part, I was no more than the third spear carrier.

After I got over the ego-bruising realisation that none of them really wanted to speak to me, I watched my son look after his guests, enjoy their company, and sit at the centre of things.

And it was hugely rewarding.

* * *

I think that’s how it should be when we have the courage to let go of the people and projects in our teams. When we sublimate our egos and get the hell out of the way.

If nothing else, it’s a healthy reminder that we are all dispensable.

It’s also a reminder that the best we can do is pass on whatever wisdom we may have gathered along the way, and let others build upon it.

Our children are on loan to us. So are our roles.

We’d better get used to letting go of them.

In recent weeks, a pan-European project has taken me on multiple day-trips, and all my fondest memories have flooded back.

Especially over the past 24 hours, as a French Air Traffic Control strike left me stranded in Barcelona. More specifically, in Barcelona airport.

So, while they’re fresh, here’s a collection of Rutherford’s Laws of Air Travel. Let me know your suggestions;

We’ll build the definitive user guide for those foolhardy enough to follow us.

The Arrival-Departure Inverse: the earlier you are for your flight, the greater the likelihood that it will be delayed.

The Arrival-Departure Revelation: only after you have checked-in will the airline tell you that your flight has been delayed.

The Arrival-Departure Corollary: the later you are for your flight, the greater the chance that:

A) it will be on time;

B) the person in front of you, when asked if they have been given anything to include their luggage, will answer ‘yes – duelling pistols’;

C) you’ll choose the security queue in which everyone ahead of you has a pin in their leg.

Doc Marten’s Inspection Relationship: the longer the laces on your shoes, the more likely you will be asked to take them off at security.

The Exposed Toe Multiplier: raises the Doc Marten Inspection Relationship to 1:1 when you have a hole in your sock.

The Intel 20: the number of signs, pictures, videos and verbal reminders  needed to ensure that the man with six frequent flyer gold cards takes his laptop out of his case for X-ray.

M C Escher’s First Law of Airport Design: the destination sign-posted at the bottom of a staircase is never sign-posted at the top.

M C Escher’s Second Law of Airport Design: never give customers in Terminal coffee shops  line of sight of the information display boards.

The “Are We Having Fun?” Rule: the longer you wait for your cancelled flight, the more people you will see on their way to their holiday destinations.

The No-Turning-Back Probability Calculation: the longer the escalator, the greater the chance that you are on the wrong one headed to the wrong gate. The probability gets closer to 1.0 the nearer you are to departure time.

The Scargill Power Union: all batteries run down at the same rate, whether or not each device is in use. At the moment your mobile cuts out – aka the moment you need to your office / Client / home – your Blackberry, laptop and mp3 player will shut down in sympathy.

Tic Tac Toe Paradigm: when the plane is half empty, the seat allocation system will always put you with two other people to complete a row of three.

The Law of Temporary Innumeracy: all people are rendered number blind when entering a plane; if you have seat 19C, you will attempt to sit in 18C or 20C, because for the duration of you journey 19 will cease to exist as an intellectual construct.

The Sound-Distance Constant: one screaming child for every 250 miles flown in Economy.

The Travis Bickle ‘Looking at Me’ Calculation: distance from airport to destination (miles) x duration spent in taxi (minutes) = number of times you will see the driver glare at you in his rear-view with bloodshot eyes .

The Travis Bickle Conversion Rate: 1 ‘Looking at Me’ glare = 1 unit of local currency ($, £, €). The total ‘Looking at Me’ payment is made as a gratuity for letting you out of the car without physical harm.

The Hour-Minute Co-efficient: the hour in which you arrive at your hotel (based on the 24 hour clock) determines the number of minutes you must walk to your room. Arrivals on or after 00h00 usually sleep in reception.

The Sweaty Collar Certainty: when you have an enforced overnight stay – and you need your only shirt laundered – you will discover that you have arrived on a little known public holiday, and that the laundress has taken the evening off. Along with the kitchen staff.

KEY TERMS FOR FUTURE REFERENCE

Boarding: we’d like you to stand in a queue and watch passengers disembark from the flight you’ll be getting on when we’ve cleaned it in about 20 minutes

Estimated Time of Departure: we really have no idea, but the system won’t accept a blank field

Gate Closes: gate will still be open (unless you’re 10 seconds late, when it means ‘the gate has already closed, and no amount of negotiation or charm will get you on the flight. Have a nice day.’)

I love TED. A TED video is an 18-minute workout in the best mental gym in town.

What marks it out is the practicality of the thinking on display. TED is a virtual venue for genuine innovation – the solving of problems, rather than the stylising of presentation or the academic examination of angels on pinheads.

If the worldwide web only had one site, it would have to be TED.

Second declaration: I love Rory Sutherland.

Let me be clear – this is unrequited, Platonic love from afar. We don’t exchange notes or cards or flowers.

But his two TED pitches make my heart skip a beat.

Sutherland looks at the world with a fresh pair of eyes, notices spaces for new solutions, and asks ‘why not?’

SWEAT THE SMALL STUFF

In the more recent of his talks, he focuses on the inverse relationship between money and effectiveness, his basic thesis being that it’s the small stuff that can make the greatest difference.

Like the example of a World Health Organization inoculation program, and the ‘reward’ of a kilo of lentils for mothers who participated.

As Sutherland says: “in a business or government context,  a solution so trivial as to be embarrassing.”

www.youtube.com/watch?v=dkLcwHmnPV4

At 10min30sec he sets out a simple graph (even creative thinkers need a 2-by-2 matrix to sell an idea), charting the relationship between money and effect:

• Big Money / Big Effect = Strategy

• Big Money / Little Effect = Consultancy (a cheap gag, but funny nevertheless)

• Little Money / Little Effect = Trivia

• Little Money / Big Effect = ?

He then sets a challenge: what should we call the activity he’s talking about?

IT’S ALL IN A NAME

Sutherland suggests that an organization needs a Chief Detail Officer to lead the charge on this, to ‘sweat the small stuff’ and to be champion of inverse proportionality.

But what’s the label for their practice? What’s the verb? What’s the banner under which it gets focus?

What’s the question the rest of the organization can ask to check on performance?

The responses posted on YouTube are a list of current words, such as ingenuity, inspiration, tactics, common sense…

Which rather miss the point.

If the deliberate search for this type of solution is going to be formally established, it needs a new label.

(Like ‘Quality’ or ‘Business Process Engineering’ or ‘Six Sigma.’)

So I noodled this over a cup of coffee at lunchtime, in search of a new term.

A ROSE IS A ROSE IS A ROSE

The core principle is the relationship between input and output.

An obvious image is the lever, a simple machine that multiplies force. A little bit of pressure here, a huge amount of force there.

Nope. Can’t use that. Wall Street’s Masters of the Universe hijacked ‘leverage’ a long time ago. And in light of recent events, it really doesn’t carry the most positive connotations.

Then again… a lever needs a ‘pivot point’. But so does a dancer, and that’s too artsy for the business world in tough times.

How about a ‘fulcrum’?

That’s better! Good engineering word, ‘fulcrum’. Sounds scientific. Sounds technical. Sounds practical.

But put it into Google, and it turns out to be an energy company and an Evangelican forum.

So how about using it as the root of a hybrid term, one that links with business and finance:

Fulcrunomics? Fulcrumomics??

(Hey, listen: Entire publishing phenomena have been built on flimsier notions.  Stay with me here.)

The trouble with both words is that they are: a) ugly to look at; b) impossible to say.

Back to the coffee cup.

FOLLOW THE MONEY

The thought of linking to the finance function set another group of mental cogs grinding, and I remember sundry grillings from CFOs and FDs and VCs wanting to know the payback on proposed spend.

Return on Investment.

(We might be on to something here.)

The difference is that Sutherland is directing attention not just to money, but to the quality of thinking, the effectiveness of true creativity.

Return on Idea. R-o-Idea.

THAT’S the question the organization should ask itself everyday:

“What’s our R-o-Idea?”

Language evolves, and R-o-Idea easily morphs into Roidea – which a good phonetic partner to ‘Trivia’ in Sutherland’s grid (like the ‘Strategy’ and ‘Consultancy’ pairing in the other quadrants).

Roidea: n – a collection of high-return actions and programs, initially dismissed as being ‘too simple’

Roideal: n – a single low-cost-high-efficacy solution

Roideate: v – to actively seek and promote low-cost answers to potentially costly problems

Roidish: adj –  deceptively straightforward, easy to underestimate, more effective than expected

And with that, I pass the baton back to Mr Sutherland, in appreciation for challenging some of my perceptions and showing me the world in a slightly different way.

CODA

When I started this posting, I thought it would end there, but I’ve just had another thought: I wonder how much use it would take to ‘roideal’ into the dictionary? How many people need to read it, use it, write it?

So here’s a request for your weekend:

Send a link to this posting to as many colleagues as you can. More importantly, next time you’re writing a report or a presentation -- and if it’s appropriate -- use the word ‘roideal’ to describe your proposal.

If it’s public domain, send me a copy. All examples gratefully received; I’ll keep you up-to-date on further postings.

This could be the start of something big…

It may not be a Nobel Prize or an Academy Award, but winning is winning, and this was a job well done.  Whatever the field, there are always lessons to be learned from people who excel.

We have a love-hate relationship with the contest in the UK – gathering in houses across the land to bask in its cheesiness, but ever-complaining about the voting system that we believe is stacked against us.

Latvia will always vote for Lithuania and Estonia; Estonia will always vote for Lithuania and Latvia; Lithuania will always vote for Estonia and Latvia; and Cyprus will always, always, always vote for Greece.

Indeed, we have convinced ourselves that it is only possible to win by changing our name to Bosnia-Herzegovina.

On Saturday, Germany disproved that theory, and outflanked the ‘bloc voters’. Indeed, it played the rules to its advantage.

LESSON 1: GET THE BEST TALENT

If you spend too long thinking about the idea of the nation state, it’s possible to end up in an existential conundrum that questions the very nature of “belonging” to anything.

What makes the German entry to Eurovision “German”?

Lena sung in English; no surprise there – it is the lingua-franca of pop music.

What’s more interesting is that the song was written by Julie Frost (American) and John Gordon (Danish). Obviously, birthplace is not a factor defining the National characteristic of Eurovision entry.

This isn’t sour grapes (really!). The lesson here is that the German broadcaster responsible for the country’s participation spread the net as wide as possible and selected the best talent for the job.

LESSON 2: A QUALITY PRODUCT

“Satellite” was the best song of the evening, with a contemporary beat and a memorable hook.

Appropriately, the Germans have a great description of this: they call it ‘an earworm’.

(Unlike many of the other entries which redefined ‘instantly forgettable’, and in a couple of cases proved that it’s possible to forget a song while you’re actually listening to it.)

Contrary to popular perception, plinky-plonky, binky-bonky songs haven’t succeeded in Eurovision for a long time.

The great European public is actually quite discerning.

The track also avoided the Me-Too trap.

Norway won last year with a manic pixie and his electric violin. This year – surprise, surprise – there were more violins on display than you can see at the Last Night of the Proms.

Me-Too is a relevant strategy if you want to take share from the market leader, but it’s doomed to failure in a first-past-the-post competition.

LESSON 3: MAKE THE RULES WORK FOR YOU

While ‘bloc voting’ can appear to stack the odds against certain nations, there is another aspect of Eurovision qualification which is often overlooked.

The “big four” – France, Germany, Spain and the UK – do not have to go through qualification. The size of their TV audiences means an automatic place in the final.

This year, Germany took full advantage of this, selecting its song over two months ago, and then releasing it almost immediately into various markets well ahead of the competition.

(By comparison the UK entry, chosen on the same night as the Germans, wasn’t released until 24 April).

“Satellite” got to number one in several territories, including Switzerland and Sweden, which both gave it the famous ‘douze points’ on the night. In releasing early, and promoting heavily, Germany considerably increased its chances.

From a straw poll of five under-19s Brits in my house on Saturday, four had already heard “Satellite”. None of them knew any other entry.

People buy what they know.

When I met Mrs May a couple of years ago, we talked about her career and her initiatives to get more women into politics.  She was approachable, helpful and forthcoming – and genuine enough to renew my faith that at least some people are in the House of Commons for the right reasons.

BEGINNINGS

There was no moment of epiphany that started Theresa May’s career in politics; no blinding flash or moment of realization that she wanted to change the world; not even a role model who inspired her to follow in their footsteps. As far as she can remember, she just always wanted to be an MP.

“My father was a clergyman, so maybe that had something to do with it. Indeed, there are quite a few clergy offspring in the House of Commons – put it down to a way with words and a concern for the well being of others. Right back to my early school days I was always involved with current affairs, and stood for election for the school council. It just blossomed from there.”

After graduating from St Hughes, Oxford, Theresa started in banking, and after a number of roles, became Head of European Affairs for APACS, the inter-bank clearing service. Was this a move designed to advance her politically?

“Not really. They needed someone to represent the UK in bringing other banks into the clearing system. The role was offered to me, rather than me pursuing it. I think someone recognised that I was interested in politics and that I could make an argument. It was very enjoyable, but I didn’t plan it. I’ve never really planned my career. Perhaps I should?”

OUTSIDE IN

Between 1986 and 1994, Theresa cut her teeth in day-to-day, practical politics as a Councillor in the London Borough of Merton. She says that this long ‘apprenticeship’ gave her a platform to get on a list for a seat at a General Election.

“In hindsight, I did take a bit of a long way round. It’s quite common for Labour MPs, but not seen as the usual way for Conservatives. But no-one had ever told me any different.”

The usual route – especially for men – is to get a job as a research assistant to an MP, then to go into Public Affairs, and spend a lot of time in and around the House. And from there, prospective candidates get themselves onto a list – more often than not for a safe seat. Theresa unsuccessfully stood twice.

“By the time they arrive, they know this place very well,” she says. “ They have contacts, know their way around, and know how to get things done. I didn’t know anyone. Before I was elected I’d only been in place a couple of times. In hindsight, I suppose it was an outsider’s route.”

She was finally selected for a safe seat – Maidenhead in Berkshire – and elected to the House of Commons in May 1997. She was one of 121 women MPs.

A WOMAN’S POINT-OF-VIEW

Did the influx of women change the way the House operated?

“There was certainly a move almost immediately to change the way the House operated. It used to sit from 2.30pm to 10.30pm, and often later into the night. The women in the House – especially those with families – pushed for change.”

The House now sits 2.30pm to 10.00pm Monday and Tuesday, 11.30am to 7.00pm Wednesday and 10.30am to 6.00pm Thursday.

“That certainly makes for better planning, both of House business, and for constituency work. But we’re a long way from completing the modernising process. Unfortunately, most people only ever see the House of Commons through the lens of Prime Minister’s Questions. When I speak with people, especially women, about issues like transport, local hospitals, the regulation of childcare – things that impact their daily lives – then the political process is relevant. It’s is less about combat, and more about finding solutions.”

And one of the solutions that Theresa May is working to develop is how to get more women into national politics – especially as sitting MPs in her Party. To set this in context, in 1932 there were 13 Conservative women MPs. By 2006 that number was 17.

“At the General Election of 2001, there was not a single female candidate in safe seat. Not one. When I was Chairman of the Party four years later, I made a speech about the feminisation of politics – some call it my ‘Nasty Party’ speech – and I decided to do something about it. So we started Women2Win.”

NETWORK FOR CHANGE

Beginning as a virtual office, and running the occasional networking evening, Women2Win was an informal initiative to give women who were interested in politics the opportunity to find out more. Soon, it was supporting women who wanted to be candidates.

Theresa says: “There ought to be a lot more women in politics. But the system – the way the parties select, the way the House runs – has been biased against them. There are women in Parliament who disagree totally with that statement; some of those who have ‘made it’ by playing the system as it is. But the question that I keep asking myself is whether we’re really attracting the best talent that can really represent the population?”

Today, Women2Win has an Executive Director, a business plan, a website and targets different groups with different needs.

“We run evenings for novices who just want to find out more about the political process. We run training courses, in things like public speaking and well as coaching women through their local Party’s selection process. And we’re running a formal mentoring programme.” All part of a support infrastructure that was not in place when Theresa entered Parliament.

“But there were a couple of people who provided the trigger for me. They encouraged me to take steps that I might have wanted, but didn’t know how to go about it. I didn’t have the insider’s track. Now that I’m in here, I think I have a responsibility to make that available to a lot more women who will follow me. The more we make it available in a more formal way – rather than relying on chance – the wider the net will be.”

STEP IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION

It’s difficult to meet with or read about Theresa May, without thinking of the shoes. Every interview or profile of her references her flamboyant footwear. Does she think it demeans her as a serious politician?

“I have a choice of how to respond: I can either take issue with it or I can go with the flow. In truth, I think it makes me more human, more approachable. It is, after all, something that women relate to. It’s a great ice-breaker.”

She has three pieces of advice for women thinking of a career in politics – indeed, women in any career:

“First, be yourself. Be true to who you are. Don’t try to conform. That can make it harder in the short term, but more satisfying in the long run.

“Secondly, learn to manage upwards. I see so many women who think that doing a good job is enough in itself. If you don’t tell what you’ve done, others won’t notice.

“And believe in yourself. Believe you can do it. I know that sounds like a platitude, but the lack of genuine self-belief is the biggest inhibitor I see in the women who initially come to the Women2Win evenings. And that’s what we’re there to provide – encouragement to take the next step. And life’s really a series of next steps, isn’t it?”

Rt Hon Theresa May is MP for Maidenhead,  Home Secretary and  Minister for Women and Equality.

Stories of the great retailer are many and varied. This is my favourite from the 1960s. It may be apocryphal. I hope not, because it demonstrates a genius for providing customer service and understanding customer value.

The best job in Harrods was ‘The Man Who Was Made an Example Of’.

He spent most of his day in a small office at the top of the building, drinking tea, doing the crossword and some light filing, waiting for the telephone to ring.

He’d usually get one call a day. Occasionally two.

When it came, the voice on the other end was always a Departmental Manager, summoning him urgently.

At once, he took the lift to the appropriate floor and made his way to the said Department. In this case, China and Glass.

There he found the Manager placating a customer.

“Johnson,” the Manager said, with a groveling gesturing towards the customer. “Do you know who this is?”

No, said the Man Who Was Made an Example Of, shaking his head while examining the carpet.

“This is Lady Dowager Fortescue-St Clair. Lady Dowager Fortescue St-Clair is one of our most important, valued customers. As was her mother, the late Lady Dowager Fortescue-St Clair.”

The Man Who Was Made an Example Of bowed slightly. He knew his place.

“Her Ladyship recently came into our emporium and bought a Royal Dalton, 48-piece dinner service as a wedding present for her niece. She asked for it to be delivered. That, I believe, was your responsibility.”

The Man Who Was Made an Example Of acknowledged that it was.

“Well, you can imagine the distress we caused Lady Dowager Fortescue St-Clair when the said Royal Dalton 48-piece dinner service arrived, was examined, and found to be a Royal Dalton 47-piece dinner service.  Plus a broken gravy boat.”

The Man Who Was Made an Example Of agreed that this must have caused considerable distress. The Departmental Manager continued:

“The cause of the broken gravy boat was you, Johnson. It appears that you had not wrapped it properly, thereby committing it to a damaging fate. What do you have to say for yourself?”

The Man Who Was Made an Example Of humbly apologised, now looking at his shoes. But the Departmental Manager was not finished:

“This is not the level of service our customers expect from Harrods, Johnson. And certainly not the level of service we should provide to our most valued customers like Lady Dowager Fortescue-St Clair. Therefore, I want you to go immediately to the Personnel Office and collect your cards. Your slap-dash approach shows that you are not suited to a career with Harrods. Good day to you.”

On cue, the Lady Dowager tried to intervene, and said that dispensing with Johnson’s services was rather harsh, and that his apology was quite enough.

“Your Ladyship’s benevolence does her great credit,” said the Departmental Manager, rubbing his hands together like an anxious undertaker. “But it is Harrods’ policy to provide the greatest care and attention to its customers, and Mr Johnson has failed to do so. We cannot risk it happening again, and I can only apologise on behalf of the entire company for this slipping of standards.

“Johnson – why are you still here?”

At which, The Man Who Was Made an Example Of took himself off to the Personnel Office. Or rather, went back to the lift, rode to the top of the building, and returned to his small office, his tea, his crossword and his light filing.

And awaited his next telephone call.

I’ll repeat that: Amazon delighted me.

I want to say it a third time. And a fourth and fifth. Delight is such a rare occurrence, it’s worth embracing  when it pops into your life.

Amazon delighted me.

It was such a simple act – that was part of its power. And the fact that it was wholly unexpected. Actually, it was the surprise that caused the delight.

At the start of the year, I decided to take a break from book-buying. My shelves and my bank balance needed  a rest from my (rather virtuous) addiction, and I wanted to see how long I could go without indulging.

(I’m still going cold turkey, hence the dramatic falls in share price across the publishing sector).

But I devised a sneaky way around this literary Lent by pre-ordering a number of titles at the start of the year. So when they arrived I wouldn’t strictly be buying books, but I still get the frisson of a new title.

I’m not particularly proud of this strategy, but it’s important to the story, so there we are.

A couple of books turned up in February, one at the beginning of March. Then a dry spell until last week when, true to form, Amazon sent me an email to say that the next shipment was on its way.

Except this time it added that demand for the particular book had been so great that they had negotiated a lower price with the publisher, which it was passing onto me.

The saving was just £1. But that’s not really the point.

They passed it on to me.

Had Amazon got it for a better price and not told me, I doubt I’d ever have known. But they choose to tell me, and share in the gain.

A cynic might say that their systems forced them to because the accounting involved would be too complicated. Or that other customers would have noticed the difference on the site and complained, and that the ensuing admin would have been more trouble than it was worth.

There are multiple reasons why this may have happened.

I don’t care.

All that matters to me is that an online retailer with whom I have always had a rather distant, commodity-based relationship changed the game. Suddenly, it revealed a personality to me. It showed a set of values and what it believes to be right.

And I went from a loyal customer to a passionate fan. Hence I’m writing about them today. And once I’m off my fiction fast, there’s no prizes for guessing where my first spend will be. And all subsequent spends.

That customer-to-fan transformation is one of the hardest acts in business. Achieve it, and you have a relationship for life.

And the key is quite simple: share good fortune.

That works because no-one expects us to. There is no legal,  moral or commercial imperative to do so. If we don’t, no-one will think any the worse of us. That’s business-as-usual.

But go beyond those normal boundaries, and the smallest act can leave the greatest impression.

Even the saving of £1.

Faced with a huge fiscal problem, whoever gets in will need to sack public sector workers, cut pay, reduce pensions and axe services. No party has deigned to explain how it would do that.

By way of example, the paper shows that in all of David Cameron’s speeches since the election was declared (all 24,129 words) he has not uttered ‘spending cuts’ or ‘austerity’ once.

ELEPHANT IN THE ROOM

To illustrate the duplicity of all three main parties, the FT’s the ever-pithy cartoonist Pinn captioned his picture “Election Platform” and showed three tiny figures at lecterns on the back of a huge elephant labelled ‘Debt’.

Even the Lib Dems, praised this week by the Institute for Fiscal Studies for being the most forthcoming, have revealed only 25% of the cuts they would need to impose.

Opinion polls show that the Great British public believes that efficiency savings will be enough to solve the £163bn fiscal debt. Small wonder; that has been the message from all parties. All we need to do is cut out waste.

Which is like saying to an addicted gambler, ‘cut out the bar nuts and we won’t need to send Ronnie the Knife to visit’.

When Cameron did mention some parts of the country that have become over-dependent on government support, there was a sharp intake of breath from his spin-meisters, and the issue disappeared.

‘YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE TRUTH‘

In A Few Good Men Jack Nicholson has one of his finest screen moments. As Colonel Nathan Jessep, he bawls at Tom Cruise (and all of us) an uncomfortable fact: We really don’t want to know what’s going on. It’s too big, too painful. If we’re lucky, it’ll go away.

None of the political parties has wanted to be the first to show its hand because it would immediately be pilloried as the harbingers of doom. Brown tried to paint the Tories with the cost-cutting brush, and was in turn labelled negative and defeatist.

And yet this does no-one – elected or electorate – any favours. When the cuts come (as they will) the public will be as angry as an Icelandic volcano. And whoever is in government will find that they have no popular mandate to make the tough calls.

As Governor of the Bank of England Mervyn King reportedly said earlier this week, the party that implements the reductions will find itself unelectable for a decade afterwards, if not longer.

All sides have lacked the courage to tell it as it is, believing that we have lacked the courage to hear it.

* * *

And so it goes. In politics, business or life, it’s better to deal with bad news as quickly as possible. Because the longer you’re in denial, the more difficult the medicine becomes to administer.

For me, it’s getting back on a racing bike.

Of course, it’s not called a racing bike any more; it’s a road bike. But the drop handlebars,  the razor-blade saddle  and the derailleur gears are just the same. And make me feel like a teenager again.

LIFE CYCLE

So what’s prompted the return to the saddle – thirty years since I parted company with the beautiful Carlton Corsa that my parents had previously bought me for passing my school entrance exams?

Like any other mid-life philosopher, it’s the feeling of mortality.

My father had heart surgery late last year. He’d suffered a couple of black-outs (mini-strokes, called TIAs) which finally resulted in keyhole surgery, then a pacemaker.

That  set me reflecting on the heart surgery I had as a child to correct coarctation of the aorta (basically, the main valve was closing up).  In the early 1960s, things were a little more risky; rather than going in through a keyhole, the cardiac sugeon sliced open my chest, sawed apart the sternum, opened my heart, then pin-and-stitched me back together, leaving  a fat, salmon pink zipper down my front.

I haven’t really thought about it for many years, but Dad’s op bought it all back into focus and prompted me to do something as a belated ‘thank you’ to the team that, literally, saved my life.

Hence I’m back on the bike and will be riding from London to Brighton in June this year to raise money for the British Heart Foundation, and perhaps help another child born with a heart defect.

A HEART-FELT PLEA

So I have new wheels, a spiffy heart monitor that tells me exactly how unfit I am, and a pair of figure-hugging leggings that frankly shouldn’t be worn in public.

It’s all just 10 weeks away, and as I sit here after this morning’s training ride, my body is telling me that it will be ready in 5-to-6 months.

The race is on – physical readiness v funds raised.

It’s a fair bet that  the money will cross the line before I do -  I know that generous friends and colleagues will pay handsomely  for the vicarious pleasure of me experiencing the pain of the final hill-climb into Brighton.

If you’d like to share in that once-in-a-lifetime, warm, slightly sadistic glow, please click HERE.

And thank you – from the bottom of my heart.