HOW DO I HATE THEE? LET ME COUNT THE WAYS

This is a misquotation of one of the greatest love poems ever by Elizabeth Barrett Browning:-

“How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.”

I’ve used it because the level of hatred that’s invaded our lives is peculiarly visceral not just here but in America too. There seems no middle position to be taken between Trump and Biden or Johnson and almost anyone. But where did well-mannered debate go? Down the plughole, I guess, with De Bono and his book “I am Right and You are Wrong,” which in the current climate should be retitled: “I am totally right and you are an utter scumbag.”

I had some hope restored to me when I saw that Save the Children had conducted a decent sized survey (with some 5,000 8-14 year old children) and that 78% had declared a desire to help the disadvantaged and do good. (Well of course they did.) The Junior Week Magazine turned this into a crusading slogan “It’s Cool to be Kind.”

Why can’t we think about and listen to what others say? Why can’t we be kind? Because, here’s rage: “there’s no point in listening; I know what you’re going to say and it’s garbage.” I once said that to an utter scumbag (sorry, to someone with whom I had a slight difference of opinion) but I’ve matured since then. I even listened carefully to Piers Morgan’s interview with Donald Trump on the recently launched Talk TV. Trump was not unimpressive but there was something missing. No empathy; to him no-one else matters; he knew he was right and anyone who disagreed with him was stupid. He was a grumpy know-all yet still  admired by a lot of Americans. 

He described saying to Putin that if Vladimir put a foot wrong he, Trump, had a very big button which he wouldn’t think twice about pressing . Allegedly Putin said “really?” and Trump said “Yes. Really”. It was just a strongman show.

I wanted to pursue briefly this strange world of disillusion, repulsion and hatred and how it influences behaviour. 

Social media has, of course, made it worse. There’s a new vocabulary of hatred spawned from that. We have trolling, ghosting, cancelling, gaslighting and hate-speech. We live in a tumultuous world of hyperbole. Agreement is “Hund p” (or 100%) never any reflective nuance. It’s hate or love. Yes or No. Never a hint of “maybe.”

This trend grew stronger with cantankerous interviewers on the BBC Today programme. I now listen to Asmir Mir and Stig Abell on Times Radio who are pleasant but somehow still seem to extract the truth. With a smile not a snarl. 

Here’s that Browning poem in full. I hope it proves an antidote to what, chances are, will be another bad-tempered week.

“How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace

I love thee to the level of every day's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.

I love thee freely, as men strive for right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.” 

 

I WANT IT HOT

If I were to get home from a work, from one of those exhausting meetings with colleagues in a wine bar at 10pm to find the chef (my wife) had shut down the kitchen and said “no hot food” I’d be quite cross. I’d express myself colourfully. I might even swing my arms around. Mind I’d never hit her - wouldn’t dare - not that brave - crikey….the very thought…..

That’s the trouble with self-opinionated egocentics like Jeremy Clarkson, Kevin Pietersen, Piers Morgan and me. We need our hot food.

But relax.

This isn’t yet another article about “Top Gear” and St Jeremy of Ferrari.

I wanted instead to reflect on difference between people who do their homework and those who don’t and on the amateurism that some aspire to. I’ve actually heard people say things like “I want to be fresh - I don’t want to over prepare”. That’s about as absurd as saying you don’t want to cook the food so it’s piping hot (as anyone getting in after a hard day’s work should expect it to be) but want to serve it fresh…and semi raw.

The best people I work with all allow a lot of preparation and rehearsal time for presentations or even the simplest of speeches.

Even those blessed with nerveless competence need to have their presentation nailed down.
There’s no room for hoping it’ll be all right in the night.  Besides it’s ill-mannered not to prepare your presentational banquet fastidiously. This is the opportunity to be a Master Chef or be sent home early in gastronomic disgrace.

Three things determine the star from a wally:-

• A great story - one that hangs together which has a point and a memorable theme
• One that is served hot - which has bits of contemporary garnish and relevance
• One that is delivered with charm and confidence

 All of this deserves a lot of time - Leon Kreitzman, one of the finest speakers and storytellers I’ve ever seen, reckoned on a half hour presentation needing 5 hours hard work and practice - assuming it’s on a subject you really know about.

Recently I had to do a complex reading in church - I reckon I practised it at least twelve times before I had it cracked.

So the message is prepare, rehearse, assume nothing and don’t be so unprofessional as to hope you can stroll up on stage and busk it. To be sure, the more that you do it the better you get so never risk that ghastly feeling that you aren’t quite ready yet.

You haven’t got the time?

Set your alarm an hour or so early for a week….rehearse then.

I regard sleep as sacred but it’s a sin to be snoozing if instead you could be honing your performance.
Which is why JC was so cross. Because whilst ever the pro himself his production team were not and let the chef go home.

Bottom Gear guys.