If you believe you really don’t have much to look forward to then just make it up! Last week I noticed with the realisation and trepidation of an over-protective dad that my 12 (going on 26) year old daughter had emblazoned a rather interesting tattoo on her left wrist. Utilising my finely tuned investigative and interview technique I pressed for an instant confession. Thankfully the resultant fact finding revealed said moniker was in marker pen only and soon to fade; what was however a little cloudier was the tattoo itself that of a wristwatch displaying GMT 5 past 3 p.m. ‘Why?’ I enquired, ‘Because it’s always going home time’ was her poignant retort. Incidentally, this is the same young lady who when aged 4, and told she had put her shoes on the wrong feet, replied ‘but these are the only feet I’ve got’. So at a glance and a bit of contrivance, instantly, something to look forward to.
And so our industrious British culture this year has indeed drawn its own tattoo. To make something true in business, all we have to employ is the phrase, ‘according to statistics’ We (according to statistics) have had the best summer for 25 years; we leapt into 2013 with all the glory of multi gold Olympics, the best organised (according to statistics) since Hercules threw his dinner plate across a field, Andy Murray, the British Lions, The Ashes, house prices up, economic growth, Chris Froome, Bradley Wiggins, unemployment down, international investment in, shares up, washing out, smiley faces, sun shining, new King.
All in all fuelled completely and utterly by our British culture; one which is developed and maintained from the moment we have a conscious thought. The one and only location such optimism in a philosophy can spring is derived from how we experience the truest of all Blighty’s upbringings. From the moment we can remember to the time we depart this coil. The cruel sea of hopes dashed, promises disappointed again and again, forethought and meticulous planning only to be destroyed by outside influence. Yes, from this we have built our culture of resilience, stamina, resolve; a mentality other countries can only dream of. Prolonged winters, economic down turns and sporting frustrations pale into insignificance compared to the great British BBQ.
One minute of a solar breakthrough and we suddenly become gods of the bric burnt menu. Outside we pursue with joyous revelation proclaiming the benefits of this magnificent nation. Never to be ousted by the outside chance of inclement weather.
For the first time this year I gingerly removed the lid from my trusty, if rather modest, metallic garden BBQ set and peered inside. Before my very eyes a very interesting culture indeed which had clearly evolved over time and based its survival on the remains of last year’s fleshy deposits. How should one deal with such alien forms ready for the festivities? Then the rain did it for me.
‘Kettle’s on, fancy a take away?’ called my lovely wife.
Maybe next year.
We all had something to look forward to 2012 into 2013 and I’m unsure of how we created our own wristwatch, but it happened. Have a great summer.
