The Northern Quarter in Manchester possesses a certain kind of magic.

Aesthetically it occupies a space somewhere between New York and Stalingrad.

In historical space it seems suspended in another time. An era before retail chains created the identikit urban streetscape.

It was here with my Director of Curiosity, Tom Calderbank, that I stumbled upon another kind of space. A magic space which we are all capable of tapping into.

We entered a bar aptly named ‘ODD' where Tom did a rather odd thing. Raising a wooden chair high into the air he posed a question. "What is more important? A chair or the ‘idea' of a chair?"

I tried to create a face which at once suggested intrigue with a hint of bafflement, whilst thinking internally that perhaps he should not have enjoyed that second pint of strong lager.

On reflection, I can see now that Tom was opening a door to a conversation about the nature of magic. For those of us who stepped through the door and explored the power of consciousness - the place from which we mine ideas - things may never be the same.

So what is more important, the chair or the ‘idea' of a chair? Well if all the chairs in the world somehow mysteriously disappeared tomorrow, we would have no chairs, but we would still have the idea of a chair. Because we still have the idea, we could, if we so desired make more chairs.

The immaterial ‘idea' has an immortality that material things don't possess. Yet we spend little time exploring the world of consciousness - the rich source of new ideas - preferring instead to opt for hard edged; solid things; and scientific rationality.

If there is such a thing as magic, as opposed to trickery or illusion, surely we would find it by exploring our consciousness - the landscape of ideas which exists in our heads and which science struggles to explain. Many of us have little idea how to enter this rich landscape, let alone try to.

Suppose that ideas could influence behaviour, and that behaviour could change the way things are. When we do this with ideas that can be objectively explained and replicated we call that science. Some ideas though such as dreams; fantasies; imaginings have no objective scientific credentials. Yet these too can transform the way things are. Would that be magic? Would that be a form of alchemy? Turning a series of chemical impulses into a material change?

Consider this. Tom who is a lover of old buildings went into the derelict, crumbling Florence Institute, a former Victorian boys club in the Dingle area of Liverpool. It was twenty years ago and it appeared that the building would crumble into dust.

Inside he was moved by the Roll of Honour showing the names of the dozens upon dozens of ‘Florrie' boys who had perished in World War One.

Outside he crossed the street to view the building from a distance. In his mind he saw the Florrie conscripts in their uniforms. They were hanging from the windows calling to him. "Tom save us; Tom you've got to save the Florrie; Tom, do it for us Tom".

Did that really happen? Was it an illusion? Was it the product of an over active imagination?

Who can say? What is important is that an image which existed in his world of consciousness had a marked effect on his behaviour. He determined, twenty years ago that he would save The Florrie. He was practically penniless and calculated that he would need £6.6 million. There were those that believed he was crazy; others thought him a misguided soul; and those that branded him a a little ‘simple'.

Yet his image of the Florrie boys, real or imagined, drove him on. In June 2010 work begins on restoring The Florrie and bringing it back to life.

An image from the non-material world influenced his behaviour; his behaviour influenced that of others; together they changed the way things are. That has to be a kind of magic. A social form of alchemy.

We all have the power, if we delve into the landscape beyond the material world - the richness that lies inside our heads - to change the way things are.

That's my kind of magic.

For a great exposition of why we should embrace the magic of the mind see Magic running in the gutters like lighteningin Alan Moore's Dodgem Logic

My very own Director of Curiosity, Tom Calderbank has had a lot of jobs. He was part of the crew that brought the giant spider La Machine to the streets of Liverpool during Capital of Culture year; he cleaned the toilets at The Belvedere Youth Club under the grand title of ‘Project Manager'; and in the days before broadband was everywhere, he drove an IT bus to take technology to the parts that BT couldn't reach.

The IT bus, stocked with computers was a place where young people could access the internet and do all of those useful things that the World Wide Web was created for. Tom recall's one day looking over the shoulder of one young man and asking, "What's that you're doing there lar"? Without removing his gaze from the screen the young man answered, "It's instant messaging innit".

Marveling at this innovative use of technology Tom said, "That's brilliant. Who are you instant messaging"? The young lad still gazing at the screen hitched his thumb over his shoulder and said simply "Him behind me".

Two lads less than two feet apart using technology to talk to each other. The obvious question is why didn't they just turn around and talk to each other? But if it's so obvious, then why don't we all make more of an effort to communicate using more traditional methods?

In his book Tyranny of Email John Freeman argues that as we have become Facebooked, Twittered, emailed, Blackberried and IM'd our efficiency has declined and the tools that were meant to connect us are actually driving us further apart. We are becoming what the French philosopher Guy Debord termed "the lonely crowd".

We now spend so much time checking our devices and communication channels that our attention spans are seriously diminishing. Researchers have found that a typical office worker works for an average of three minutes before an interruption occurs and its takes an average of 64 seconds to recover your train of thought afterwards. Believe it or not it's possible to lose 8.5 hours a week in this way.

Then of course there is the effect on our literary and interpersonal skills. Emails can be terse, use abbreviated language and offer no visual cues in the way of body language or eye contact, so misunderstandings and blunt replies are not uncommon. A third of girls aged 16-19 and 50% of boys in a 2005 study had never written a letter.

That doesn't mean that we can grumble at the younger generation. When did I last write a letter by hand? When did I last switch my phone off? When did I last see a Facebook friend face to face?

As I glare at the screen I can answer all three questions in three grunt-like sounds, which if you are a fan of the Simpsons you will know have a meaning broadly approximating to "I don't know".

So I'm going to write myself a prescription to be taken regularly without the aid of technology. You too might care to join me...

1. Write a hand written letter in ink once a week for four weeks and post it in a red letterbox
2. Switch everything off for at least one hour every day...nobody will care
3. Speak orally to a Facebook friend who you haven't spoken to for some time...it may be slower and long-winded but it will help to put your attention span back together.

Addicted?

The average user spends 55 minutes on Facebook and has 130 friends

18 million people use Twitter

70...the average number of emails received each day

I in 5 people have more than one mobile phone

I love Malcolm Gladwell. No, that's not an admission of an embarrassing crush. I say it in the way that I might love Shiraz or the trombone solo in Mozart's Requiem. Gladwell is an interesting thinker and I find greater subtlety and insight each time I revisit his ideas - just as I do each time I revisit a glass of Shiraz or a piece of music with meaning.

He is of course the man who introduced the now overused term The Tipping Point into our vocabulary; in his book Outliers he very entertainingly unfolded the story of success; and in Blink he gave us insights into the power of thinking without thinking.

It was in Blink that Gladwell shed light on the prejudice that existed in the world of classical music right up until the 1980's. Until then, orchestras were predominantly the preserve of white men. It was considered that women didn't have the strength, attitude or resilience for certain kinds of pieces hence they had a very high rejection rate at auditions. Then in the 80's new rules were introduced for auditions, including placing the musicians behind a screen so that the auditioning panel had no preconceived ideas and focused purely on the quality of the music.

The result? In the thirty years since ‘blind' auditions were introduced in the US, the number of women in orchestras has increased fivefold. The ‘blind' audition removed the context and the performance was judged purely on its merits. The removal of prejudice from the decision-making process resulted in a musical revolution.

Gladwell's eloquent telling of this tale had stuck with me and I had become an advocate of ‘blindness' when making qualitative judgements. So when I heard philosopher Roger Scruton rubbishing the process of the ‘blind tasting' as a way of assessing good wine, you could almost have registered my disdain for his notion on the Richter Scale. Nothing he could say would convince me of the wisdom of this idea. Surely it was anti-Gladwell.

Scruton suggests that the ‘blind tasting' removes the context from the wine, and his argument is that the context is part of the pleasure of wine consumption. If you know that your Shiraz comes from a particular vineyard in South Eastern Australia; is blessed with a certain kind of soil; and has an idiosyncratic name which conjures up images of a place that you may never have been to, then these things can contribute to the experience and enjoyment of consuming the wine. He says that wine is not about the objectivity of taste, it is about the subjectivity of experience, and removing the context dissipates this.

His plea was not to treat your wine as a commodity but as an experience which can be enhanced by your relationship to the context. I found myself agreeing. This wasn't anti-Gladwell at all it was merely the opposite side of the coin. By removing the context as in blind auditions we can do away with undesirable things like prejudice. The danger is that we can do away with desirable things like a feeling for ‘sense of place' which can make wine so much more enjoyable. Scrutons advice is to meditate on your wine so that you enjoy your thoughts about the context as well as the taste and the feeling. At this point he was interrupted by an antipodean lady who said "When I drink wine it makes me even more talkative than usual. How on earth can you meditate on your wine?"

Scruton shrugged. "Symposium" he said. It's an ancient Greek concept which confers upon people the duty to be silent when another person is talking. In a world where the currency of the wine bar is becoming the size of your decibel count, I especially like the concept of the symposium. Perhaps it is the next big social improvement after the smoking ban.

I like Scrutons ideas. I still love Malcolm Gladwell though....especially with a large glass of Witchmount Estate 2004 made from grapes grown in Rockbank, a small slip of red volcanic soil in Victoria. The best Shiraz in the world...probably.


I Drink Therefore I Am, by Roger Scruton

Balls. I seem to have been to a lot of them this year. Last Friday was the NSPCC Snowflake Ball, an annual event which raises substantial sums to look after young people in distress.

Sitting at the table my thoughts turned to balls again, though this time those of a spherical kind. When I was asked who I was sitting with I said "Oh it's a guy called Dean. I've never met him before but I would wager that he was a footballer". My questioner tried to deduce how I had come to that conclusion. "Is it the expensive watch?" he asked "No" I said. "Okay, the expensive watch and the glamourous wife" he proferred "No" I said. "Ah, he's not drinking" came as a final throw of the dice. "No" I said "It's because I've been looking at his fingers".

It's true. I've found myself looking at people's fingers ever since I attended another ball in Derby some months back. I was sitting with my old friend Lee Glover, a former professional footballer now coaching youngsters at Derby County. During a lull in proceedings he posed me a question "How would you find someone who had the potential to be a professional footballer - or for that matter any elite athlete?".

I couldn't believe my luck as I prepared to deliver the answer. All of those years of looking in the index of the Rothman's Football Yearbook carefully correlating the birthplace of registered professional footballers with the Government Index of Multiple Deprivation had finally paid off. So I wrapped up my answer and delivered it with an air of authority "Once we would have said you find them where there is no central heating. Now everybody has central heating so you find them in places where there are a lot of TV satellite dishes with high scores on the deprivation index". I think I added a few references to Darwin's Origin of the Species to make it sound even more plausible.

Lee smiled Knowingly, politely waited until I had finished my speech and then simply said "No. Look at their fingers". It seems that a psychologist, Professor John Manning, has noted that top athletes tend to have an elongated ring finger. This is due to them absorbing more testosterone whilst in the womb, which increases their probabaility of being successful in the comepetitive arena of top class sport. Lee has been looking at player's fingers and he estimates that about 85% have the elongated finger.

So, back to The Snowflake, I had noticed that Dean had an elongated finger. Had I placed my wager on him being a professional footballer I would have won. He played for Ajax Amsterdam before turning out for a string of English teams none of which sounded quite as romantic or for that matter had any positive effect on kitchen floors.

It makes me wonder why we don't use this powerful piece of information. We have an Olympic games coming up in 2012 and yet we insist on telling schoolchildren that they may be able to compete. In truth, it is primarily the 'long fingers' who have a chance to compete at elite level, so why don't we focus our scarce resources on them? Instead we throw everybody into school sport and then wonder why a lot of people grow up hating it. The answer lies in their fingers and the humiliation and despair that many young people experience when trying to compete with 'long fingers'.

In our rush to find the next Tom Daley, we risk putting a lot of young people off sport. So the positive effect that the Olympics has in increasing particpation may actually end up as a zero sum game. The answer is simple. Find the 'long fingers' and put them in a place where they can compete with each other, leaving everybody else to find something physical that they truly enjoy.

Finding your finger ratio

Place your right hand palm up Measure the length of your index finger, from where it joins your palm to the tip

Measure your ring finger in the same way

Divide the length of the index finger by that of the ring finger to calculate your ‘finger ratio'

The average ratio for women is 1 The average ratio for men is 0.98. Top athletes will have a ratio closer to 0.9.

You may remember Victor Kayam. He was the man who liked his Remington shaver so much, he bought the company.

Years ago I remember hearing him reveal the secret of his success. He said "I realised very early that people liked buying from friends. So I made a lot of friends".

Whether you are trying to sell your product or working to deliver social change with ‘partners' the question of "What is a ‘friend' and how do you make them"? is an important one.

We are beginning to believe that making friends is simple. We make friends at the click of a mouse. How many ‘Facebook friends' do you have that you have never met? I have one FB friend, who incidentally I have never met, with an incredible 2040 FB friends. Its fun to see inside the everyday lives of the people in your Facebook, but it's not a substitute for real friends, or genuine connections that make the wheels of business turn.


Maybe we are losing a little of our know-how about friends and friendship as we slip in and out of virtual relationships where we can feel more popular at the click of a mouse. Sometimes we can do this without ever meeting the person that we have accepted into the fold and then rejected with a single digit.

Perhaps we should look back a bit, because Aristotle and others gave this notion of friends and friendship some serious thought. Aristotle referred to a state of well-being in what I guess he may have referred as his PB....Papyrusbook. OMG with jokes like that it's a wonder that this writing thing ever caught on. Anyway, the word he used to describe this state, most conducive to feeling good and incidentally making new friends, translates as Eudaimonia. It's an interesting word because it contains every vowel.

The key to achieving this state is virtue. There are two kinds of virtue: moral and intellectual. Moral virtues are exemplified by courage, temperance, and liberality; the key intellectual virtues are wisdom, which governs ethical behaviour, and understanding, which is expressed in scientific endeavour and contemplation.

Clearly, these are not things readily available at the click of a mouse and most definitely not downloadable from Amazon. It seems that achieving a state which is conducive to well-being and to making real friends requires us to do some work on ourselves. To look inward at our own beliefs and behaviours rather than simply projecting outwards and grasping the hand or clicking the icon of anyone who will listen.

Let's all just stop running for a moment and pause a little to introspect; perhaps become a little more virtuous if we can; we might make a real friend or two.


I doubt if there is anyone out there that likes this blog so much that they want to buy the company, so when you have finished your introspection...Facebook me.

On a recent visit to Japan, I felt a sense of calm amongst the 52 temples which make up the mountain-top settlement of Koyasan. It's a place where Buddhist monks first settled some 1200 years ago and still today they renounce the world in their search for enlightenment.

In this latter-day Shangri-La one feels slightly envious of what appears to be a peaceful, simple existence without the pressures of the modern world.

Yet former Zen monk Sokun Tsushimoto reveals that Buddhist temples have a lot in common with our more traditional western workplaces. In an interview with The Japan Times, he says "When you look at the origin of religion you see that Buddha and Jesus Christ were individuals around whom groups of followers were created". He goes on to say that to maintain the groups and expand and spread their ideas, the subject of money becomes an issue, and pure religious principles can run counter to the needs of the organisation.

He adds "As a result monks end up discussing budgets, the amount of donations they need to collect and how to achieve their targets". Tsushimoto, a high ranking Priest on a fast track to the top walked out to begin an eight year training to become a doctor and has recently qualified. He felt that he could no longer accept the political infighting, the empire building and a target driven culture which did nothing to solve people's real life needs.

We may tut-tut at the Buddhists, but if we are honest we see this kind of thing in organisations large and small all of the time. Leaders and entrepreneurs start new ideas; organisations are good at growing and sustaining them; yet there seems to be a point where the needs of the organisation conflict with those of the customer - and if the health service in Japan is anything like Britain's National Health Service, then Tsushimoto may feel that he has jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire.

How can we create organisations which are free from empire building, infighting and remain truly connected to the customer?

It's an important question. The best businesses and organisations will find a way.

It's something I shall meditate upon.