‘Northern Planner’ was not a great choice for a name. Not only is it crashingly boring, if you googled it, you got a wierd mix of journey planners and umpteen variations on ‘northern’. Thankfully, enough people have taken pity on me and their links have made the site popular enough to be at the top of the google results. Just goes to show that a bad name doesn’t always ruin your chances.
As my second name is Hovells, I should know.
I finally got round to watching ‘An Inconvenient Truth’ last week. While it didn’t tell me anything I didn’t know, it still had a profound effect. For two reasons:
1. The performance was breathtaking. It was a good feminder that having the right data, a strong argument and some whizzy graphics are okay, but that’s nothing next to a well polished delivery that’s paced to perfection.
2. Film is still one of the most powerful way you can deliver a message, it can entertain, captivate and delights like no other.
I’m working on a coffee project, so maybe all that wittering about proper coffee and slow tea may be worthwhile after all. To help, I’m having as many meetings in coffee shops as I can.
Yesterday morning I was in Durham and found myself frantically rummaging for enough copper to pay for my £2.50 skinny late. Now I’m not against someone not taking debit cards, in fact, if they turn it into some sort of benefit – maybe personal or a return to simple then fine. I do mind them waiting to apprise me of the fact until I’m offering my switch card over my freshly made drink. Sometimes it’s the littlest things that make the difference.
It was Starbucks in the afternoon, for an agreeable catch up with JamesB who’s helping on some digital stuff. Not only did he show why other people should be making the most of his newly available freelance skills, he bought me my first mince pie of the festive season. It’s always a bit dodgy working with friends. It’s nice that you trust them, but you don’t want to fall out and ruin things. James is both reliable and clever, so that’s all right. He’s also the only person who’s worse than I am for getting lost, so it’s worth having him around to make me look good.
The ever brilliant Faris makes a good point about objectiveness in planning here. Come to think of it, there’s one or two brands I like and even buy because I admire the thinking, not necessarily the ads. In between lurking in hotel receptions, Rob Campbell’s (another man proud of his shiny head)has developed some great thinking on Sony that makes me fond of the Walkman again, not to mention robots.
Meanwhile Beeker’s got some thoughts on not being media neutral, and One Woman Running has some home truths about talent in ad agencies. While you’re there, there’s lots of truths about what it’s like trying to get your first job, and life living with Mum and temping. And so we come back to Faris’ original post about objectivity. Maybe we should all spend a few days temping every year to get back in touch with reality, what do you think?
Helen’s done a good post about neurotic blogging, the way worrying about what you’re writing, and how little you’re able to do end up in you writing nothing. Blogs for me are an outlet, a way of sharing ideas and meeting a few people on the way. When they take over your like your in trouble.
I’m a bit guilty of not commenting on other people’s stuff at the moment, and I definitely need to pull my finger out with Let’s See What Happens, not least because I’m supposed to be not putting things off. But you do what you can.
..and Koln (Cologne). Since it was a stag do, pictures of individuals have been left out for obvious reasons.
Lost in translation….
..no explanation necessary.
Koln cathedral.
Handmade hat shop. Possibly where JamesB gets his jaunty headgear.
Koln cuisine. Roasted ham shank with sauerkraut.
Didn’t last long.
Christmas market. The smell of Gluewhein and fried cake was everywhere.
This was on the floor of the train station it’s hard to see it here, but it’s a moving image projected from the ceiling. I think a country’s advertising says a lot about it’s collective identity. Most of the posters were informational, but quite a few were humorous. Unlike the arch humour and subtle irony of much of British advertising, there was a straightforward honesty that I liked.
I love Germany, espescially the people. We had a look at the main drinking spots in Dusseldorf, you can tell a lot about a culture from the way they drink. People were very, very drunk (including us to be honest), they like their beer. Unlike my homeland, no one got aggressive, we never felt any need to avoid making eye contact or anything like that, they just seemed to get jollier. We were allowed to drink outside and mill around, which you’d never see in my country – the police and the doormen would all over you quicker than you can say ‘split lip’.
As I’ve been thinking about the behaviour or the pack recently, it’s no coincidence that I like the new Carling ad tapping into the tribal feeling of going out on the town- or safety in numbers.
I remember New years Eve in Hamburg, at the mercy of the sheer number of people in the town centre, and the amazing excitement at the countdown to midnight. I’m old enough to have watched Leeds United matches standing up, being buffeted by the ripple from one person three rows down gesticulating at a missed penalty, the tribal power of the endless chants. It’s raw, primal, primitive and instinctive. The couples in the corners of a nightclub all over each other, the queer silence of the masses doing a marathon, or the hot breath of a queue at the bar ten deep – the need to watch sport in a bar with mates instead of on your own at home.
We may think we’re individuals, but we’re all part some group somehow, it’s in our nature, it’s what’s kept Homo Sapiens alive and allowed them to evolve- it’s the inescapable march of humanity.
The swimming quest is going quite well. Apart from getting faster and stronger, I’m rediscovering the joy of doing something really well.
Years ago, I got to stay with a girlfriend who was working on a kids’ holiday camp in France. It was free in exchange for food and board. There was one boy who wanted to do a proper overarm tennis serve, but try as he might it wouldn’t come. It wasn’t until the last day that he hit a pretty good delivery into the ad court and positively beamed with joy.
I’ve seen that look elsewhere. It’s on Ronaldinho at his best, a creative team doing a late one, Federer hitting a sublime passing shot, Mrs Hovells creating her signature lasagne or my nephew whipping me at ‘Backwords’. It’s on countless toddlers faces taking there first steps. When your good at something, there doesn’t have to be a point to it, just the exquisite pleasure of making something great.
According to The Guardian
