A bit more than just the birds and the bees

Life has had a bit of a buzz to it over the past week. I went to the CIPD’s inaugural Festival of Work and had a wonderful time connecting with friends and contacts, putting faces to names and learning about new products and services. I particularly enjoyed hearing Garry Kasparov's thoughts on technology (below shows him speaking beside a picture of his beating  a number of computers simultaneously in 1985 - he famously lost to Deep Blue in 1997 - a moment he now sees as a triumph for humans, rather than his personal loss. He is confident that we have a great future ahead of us thanks to AI and technology.)

I also had the good fortune to attend a splendid garden party at Marlborough House (great fun, despite the rain). We were raising money for Bees For Development - a charity that helps disadvantaged people, living in some of the world’s poorest regions, to lift themselves out of extreme poverty through becoming beekeepers.  There was a fascinating display of traditional hives, these ones are from Africa: a bamboo hive from Uganda and a split cane one from Ethiopia - these would usually be plastered on the outside with a mixture of soil and cow dung and given a grass roof to protect from the rain). 

We were joined by some true Queen Bees of UK society, including Martha Kearney (a patron of the charity), Camilla, Duchess of Cornwall 

and Mary Berry (who was sporting a wonderful jacket covered in embroidered bees). 

Bees have been quite a focus for me.

Last weekend I gave a tour of my beehive to some neighbours, a delightful couple with their equally delightful teenage sons – they had won the viewing as a prize in a local charity auction. The bees behaved beautifully (and they have made some amazing wax constructions inside the hive where there was a gap in the brood box, which made the inspection even more interesting for my guests). 

I enjoyed explaining some of the weird facts about bees – did you know that:

• the queen can select what sex egg she lays, but that her choice is based on the shape of the cell that the workers bees have made for her;
• pollen is multi-coloured and so is honey (it all depends on the plant from which it originates);
• a worker bee will usually live for up to 6 weeks but a queen can live for up to 5 years (it is believed that a bee lives for circa 500 miles of flight – an over-wintering bee, which flies less, can live for a number of months);
• humans have been using bee products (wax and honey) for over 9,000 years;
• honey is almost the only food that doesn’t go off and remains in an edible state (so ignore those “best before” labels) – jars of honey have been discovered in ancient Egyptian tombs and their contents were found to be still edible;
• the average bee will make a 12^th of a teaspoon of honey in its lifetime; and
• the male bees (drones) have big eyes, furry backs and no stings (they also do very little to help with the work of the hive but get fed and cared for and are left to do their own thing until its time to buzz off and have sex).

We laughed about the number of similarities between bees and humans. All in all, my guests and I had a good time. However, this is not a post about bees or even their resemblance to people. It is what happened afterwards that made me think…

Drawing of a bee by Dame Judi Dench
one of a number of postcards auctioned at the Bee Garden Party

Late this afternoon, there was a knock on our door – the family had returned with two boxes of eggs as a thank-you gift, as they said that they had had such a good time. How wonderful! The eggs had been laid by their hens (London is more rural than many people think) and there were different types in each box – dinky little Bantam ones and a larger collection, coloured a delicate shade of blue, laid by Araucana hens. It was the eggs that have got my brain whirring and made me decide to blog.

Are chickens eggs any different if they have blue, white or brown shells? Are some better for you than others? Why do yolks vary in colour from deep orange to a pale yellow?

So this is, indirectly, becoming a post about diversity.

What makes you feel you are different? Is there a difference or are appearances deceptive and superficial? Why do we reject and fear people who are different to us? What can we do to overcome stereotypes? Why are some people “hen-pecked”, whilst others like to be dominant and “rule the roost”?

Perhaps we should start with the hens…

The claim that Brown eggs are better for you than white ones is a myth. All hens’ eggs have the potential to be the same in taste and nutritional value, regardless of the colour of their shell. The colour of egg that a hen lays is dictated by the colour of its ear lobe (yes, hens have earlobes – it is a small feather-free area just below the bird’s ear). Hens with white lobes lay white eggs, those with red or brown skinned lobes lay brown eggs.

Many people erroneously believe that brown eggs are more nutritious and/or taste better than white ones. It is true that they usually cost more, but this is primarily due to the fact that the hens that lay them are larger and hence require more food, so their eggs are more expensive to produce. White eggs, due to the smaller size of the birds, are more cost efficient for commercial egg farmers to produce than brown (or indeed blue or green), which is why they are more common in the shops. It is the hens’ diet and the environment where they live that makes the difference as far as nutrition is concerned; for example, hens that roam outdoors produce eggs with 3 to 4 times the vitamin D content of their indoor-reared, restricted counterparts that have no access to direct sunlight. The environment for the hen is important for the quality of the egg, as is the condition of the bird: stressed chickens and older, tired hens or those that are hen-pecked and hence last to get near food lay eggs with thinner shells.

"Dead Hen" by Elizabeth Frink, 1957

I see similarities between egg-laying hens and humans in the workplace (which is not to say that people are battery hens) – like the birds, most workers have little immediate control over their environment (even changing the temperature and air conditioning can prove problematical). I am convinced that every individual has the potential to produce great results – regardless of colour, race, background or size. Like chickens, people deliver better outcomes when they are in a place that they find stress-free, supportive and conducive towards their giving of their best. We each need a situation that suits our physical well-being, with daylight, fresh air, an appropriate ambient temperature for us not to be in discomfort, and adequate space, a workplace where we can perform well without feeling under undue pressure or fearing harassment or bullying from those around us. If you want to know more about how to create a fantastic workplace, I urge you to read Neil Usher’s excellent book: The Elemental Workplace.

Hens with their Young, by Edgar Hunt 1905

Hens, like humans, are not always kind to each other – there’s a reason why we use the phrase “hen-pecked”. It is true that hens have a pecking order with some dominant and others having to play a more submissive role in their community. The term ‘pecking order’ for hens was first coined in 1921 by Thorleif Schjelderup-Ebbe to describe the hierarchy of flock dynamics and it came into popular usage in the 1930s. A flock in the wild is as strong as its weakest member. There is a dominance hierarchy in many societies and it is closely linked to the survival of the fittest – it serves a useful purpose in that it prevents the need for constant fighting - it ensures that the most dominant in a group can have access to limited resources ahead of the others and thereby maintain health and strength. Hens will peck and drive away an ill or injured member of their flock (a survival trait that has remained as a behaviour amongst domesticated fowl). It is important not to introduce fewer than 2 hens at a time to an existing flock (and even then they need to be kept apart and integrated gently over a period of weeks), unless you wish to risk a bird being literally pecked to death. 

Introducing hens

Humans are unlikely to kill a new colleague; we are not hens – we are rational beings and can control our baser urges. However, we are often unfriendly and unwilling to allow a new employee to socialise with an existing group of friends. It can feel very lonely and isolating joining a new team. Try not to be bird-brained and foul (see what I did there); a little kindness towards others can make a big difference to a new colleague – you never know, you also might make a new friend.

We, like hens, need to be well cared for. It is true that an employer has a duty of care towards the workers. However, we also owe it to ourselves to be careful ourselves. There are things each of us can do to help keep ourselves physically and mentally, including, but not limited to:

• exercising,
• eating a balanced diet,
• sleeping for long enough on a regular basis to enable our bodies and minds to recharge,
• drinking sufficient water to meet our bodies’ needs,
• giving ourselves time in an environment that helps with our personal well-being (this could be in a gym, an art gallery, a field or forest or by the sea or near water)

These all help us to remain healthy and productive. Do you make the effort to be kind to yourself?

And finally – time to answer that long-asked question – “What came first, the chicken or the egg?”  The answer is the egg: hard-shelled eggs were laid by reptiles long before chickens came into existence.

We can learn a lot from the birds and the bees.

Ukrainian painted egg

On Emerging - Day 23

23rd December 2018

23 randomly-selected people is the smallest number where there will be a probability higher
than 50% that two people will share the same birthday. This is part of the Birthday Paradox;
99.9% probability is reached with just 70 people.

Today I am driving my mother and sister to Bath to meet up with my father and his wife. It will be a chance to have a fine lunch and to wish each other a happy Christmas and good start to 2019. The next time we will all eat together will be at my son's 21st party on the 5th January.

In a way today's post is a sort of celebration, in that, for me, the Advent Blog series is not complete without a post by Neil Usher. I first got to know Neil when he was the Workplace Director at Sky - he was one of the truly innovative property and facilities experts who understood the impact that the workplace has on work, the people within it and the wider environment. He has moved on from Sky to work as a property, workplace and change consultant under his own advisory business - workessence, this is also the best place to read his blogs (he has been writing them since 2011 and there are many gems in his archive). He has also written an excellent book, The Elemental Workplace. It is an interesting read and demonstrates his passion for ensuring that everyone can have and deserves a fantastic workplace. It is a pragmatic and entertaining read by a genuine expert who can demonstrate that he has practiced what he preaches. He will be writing a second book in 2019 to be published in 2020. If you want to know more about Neil, you can find him on Twitter (his handle is @workessence).

Neil is an exceptionally talented and creative writer. His pieces have a flow to them and need to be read without distractions for maximum impact. In consequence, there are no punctuation illustrations.

*********

On emerging

Something was wrong. Something had been wrong before, but never like this. The severance of Lou’s umbilical cord during a spacewalk was calming, a soft suffocation in isolation. She had realised she was the lone passenger on the bus home, just herself and the driver, focussed and disinterested.

The bus slowed at each stop and sped again when they revealed themselves to be empty. It didn’t stop from the pick-up through to the lone bell when Lou only alighted.

Christmas shrieked silently; garish, primary, immediate.

Lou lived across a field. Anywhere else she would have been nervous about walking alone along the main path lit by lanterns made to look old and hiding the scrub in darkness.

There was none of the sound of shuffling feet and snuffling dogs, the exhausted exasperated forced chatter of parents to babies in buggies, the duller half of a dull phone call. No-one whistled anymore, she thought. It was just Lou. The glow from a hundred lounges was at its warmest, the air she breathed in step with her pace at its coldest.

Why was this time so wrong? She ran through a list. She liked lists, when something made it onto a list it was half done, the easy half at least. The list was of stuff she was always told was important, that the vacuously-profiled always posted and shared with unwavering conviction. Solutions are easy on the internet; six things, eight things, ten things other people do that you can do and everything’s alright.

There was purpose. She knew why she was there, she understood what the big idea was and believed in it just like all those around her, she punched the air when the others punched the air when something went well and she frowned and searched her soul when the others frowned and searched their souls when it didn’t. Often, they searched each other’s souls. Usually without asking.

There was no doubt, not a flicker. She knew people who complained that they didn’t have a purpose they and their people shared, and she felt bad for them but comforted that she did.

There was meaningful work. She understood how what she did fitted in, why it was needed and how important it was. She knew that she could do things the others couldn’t, so she felt needed and valued. People would say ‘this is a job for Lou’ and this made her happy because it wasn’t ‘Lou or’ or ‘Lou and’ but just Lou.

She knew that what they were all working towards was better than anyone else had ever done anywhere and so it was special, and this had stopped her stepping off the conveyor belt so many times when she wanted to. Even if it wasn’t true.

She learned and grew, she was better at what she did and knew more stuff and was better able to handle tricky moments and worked things out better than when she joined. She didn’t need to sit in a classroom for this, every day was its own training course with no agenda or discussion of ‘what she hoped to get out of it’, just a randomly-assembled corporate assault course.

She felt resilient, even though at times she could have sworn she was broken yet always found something, enough, to get through it. Then it was forgotten all over again.

Her team were incredible, the most angled and impossible jigsaw fitted together beautifully, and everyone know that without the other pieces they were nothing. She knew she had found many of these shapes and would sometimes stand back and watch and see the completeness playing out before her eyes and wonder just how that could have been possible.

The jigsaw needed her too and she knew that. She had painted the picture on the box lid, at least with words. They had wanted to be part of it. Without her they would have been part of a lesser jigsaw, that you could do with your eyes closed.

She had a life, too. She saw her family, they valued the time spent but all wished it could have been more but knew plenty of stories of absent Mums and consoled themselves that what they had was better than what they could have had, that the grass was green enough right where they stood.

They coped with her morning distance, busied themselves with their own awakening, her flitting eyes elsewhere in a random landscape. Her children drew pictures of what she was like when she came home in the evening, her fuse cropped, her voice drawling, an unwillingness to arrange anything even stuff that was fun, pushing everything away, clawing at peace.

That was the list. Everything was okay, the pieces were in place, it should all be right. But instead she was lost.

The abandoned bus and field and path suggested she was still searching as she resolved that it could not go on. That was one conclusion, far too late, at least. She would resolve that when the string of tiny lights was back in its shabby box.

She flicked through the days past like vinyl records in their whitewashed wooden boxes, stacked, ordered, regular, inspecting some, passing over others.

Perhaps, she mused, if there weren’t other agendas playing out then the charcoal of her dolour might have made sense: the entirety of the diaphanous mesh of unarranged meetings hurriedly held, whispers loud but indiscernible, comments clumsily coded, laughter lurched and suppressed, ideas made flesh before disclosure, papers hurriedly scooped and folded, glances without words, and shallow reasons for having to go. She was there, but not always, included, but not always, visible but not always; a life, almost.

With that, it made sense. It was not what she had been looking for, but what she had been looking through.

The front door opened, the warmth prickled her face, and familiar voices scrambled to be heard. Her own voice was clear, her mind was clear. It had lifted.

Pearl - Day 32 (New Year's Day)

Day 32 (Monday 1st January, New Year's Day 2018)

32 years ago, on 1st January 1986, Spain and Portugal joined the European Community.
The UK had joined on 1st January 1973. Portugal operates an hour behind Spain
and hence this region is one of the easiest locations where you can celebrate the start of the
New Year twice - commence by partying in Badajoz’s Plaza Espana (a pretty gem of a town in Spain),
before grabbing a taxi for the 20 minute drive, 9 mile journey, to the charming town
of Elvas in Portugal (shown in the above picture) to greet the New Year in all over again.

Happy New Year! I wish you a wonderful 2018 full of love, good health, happy times and meaningful moments to treasure. I look forward to sharing bits of it with you.

I can think of no better way of starting the New Year than by reading a post from Neil Usher. I first got to know Neil when he was the Workplace Director at Sky - he was one of the truly innovative property and facilities experts who understood the impact that the workplace has on work, the people within it and the wider environment. Neil took the brave step to become a freelance specialist just over six months ago, which has also enabled him to find the time to write a book due to be published in March. If you wish to know more about Neil's thoughts on work and workplace design, you can find him on Twitter (his handle is @workessence) or better still, read his blog: workessence.

To me, the Advent Blog series would be diminished if there was no creative piece from Neil within it - he is an exceptionally talented writer. It has been a long standing tradition in northern hemisphere cultures to tell stories to brighten dark winter days and I see Neil's tales as a perpetuation of this custom. To maintain the flow, there are no punctuating illustrations. 

**********************

Pearl was afraid of the dark.

At least that’s what she told her parents.

They gently questioned and wove a scaffold of fine thread into her curiosity to help her through the nights that could seem interminably long. At this time of year, the excitement added another dimension: keeping her awake, when she wanted to slip past the darkness, unaware and relieved.

Her magenta-washed room was dotted with pins of light – those that stayed on, those that sensed when they needed to be on. Until one evening when the entire neighbourhood was softly sunk into pitch, unannounced. Pearl was deeply submerged in sleep at the time the clocks stopped, but something stirred on the seabed and she began the long ascent to the surface.

When she awoke, her eyes flickered, there was no difference. She blinked, rubbed her eyes and opened them like saucers. It was as though she were staring into the back of her eyelids. She could feel her skin warming, her forehead moistening. This was not right. Her pathway was gone. She was lost in a space where she was safest.

But as she strained to make sense of the slowly returning familiar shapes before her, the darkness about her began to collect itself, the air moved in ever-tightening elliptical coils around her, gathering like candyfloss. Pearl was rooted upright, as a human form appeared at the end of her bed, resting its hands on its knees and tilting its head to one side. It had a familiarity, it seemed to be everyone she knew, everyone she had ever known. A soft ochre light appeared around the shape.

Pearl could not speak, nor scream, yet something about her new companion exuded calm. It was not how she expected to feel.

“Hello Pearl. Don’t be afraid. Easy for me to say, I know but I would rather like to explain myself, if you don’t mind’ it said, in a quilted whisper, a warmth in its voice. ‘I’m the darkness all about you.”

Pearl was unsure, but calm.

“Do you always sit at the end of my bed when I’m sleeping?”

“Oh, no. I’m here for everyone. But I look after you every night, I’m all around you, looking out for you, helping you sleep. When you worry about me, I’m sad. But there is nothing I can do. I know you’re looking forward to seeing my friend, Dawn, and would rather I left.”

“She’s real too? Is she really your friend?”

“She’s my only friend, but we pass by one another slowly, wishing we could be together our hands slip through one another’s. We are the only ones who understand each other. But we never can be.”

There was a moment of stillness, as they both considered the impossibility.

“I’m not scared of Dawn” Pearl reassured herself.

“Ah but there are many who love the darkness of the night and fear the Dawn. A new day for them is terrifying. It means facing things or others they would rather avoid. It can mean making decisions they would rather not face. Sometimes it’s simply the heaviness in their own heart.”

“I can’t imagine being scared of the daylight. But I know people who are sad all of the time. That must be what’s happening. They never say so.”

“It’s rare that people do. It’s easy to say you are afraid of the dark, but it’s hard to admit you are afraid of the light.”

“But what if you and Dawn could be together? Then no-one would need to be afraid.”

“We are different, Dawn and I, and there is nothing we can do about it. We cannot change ourselves, like you can. And we’ve had much longer to try. But we are both here for everyone.”

“If you’re here for me, why am I scared of you?”

“Things that worry you feel bigger in the darkness, much bigger than you. You can’t do anything about them, you have to wait. It can seem like there is only you in the world, that you are the only one awake. So, people think of darkness as bad, and light as good. But there cannot be one without the other.”

Pearl looked puzzled.

“So, Dawn wouldn’t be here without you, and you wouldn’t be here without Dawn. Yet you can’t be together?”

“Exactly. We give each other meaning. You have to have us both.”

“So – you make it possible for me to love the Dawn?”

“Yes indeed. You just need to think of us both, looking out for you, but never able to do so together. We would want nothing more, but we can never do so. So, it helps us to deal with that, if we know you care for us both equally.’

“I will - err, I do. “

“Now, I have to go back to the way I appear to everyone, but I can only do that when I know you’re not scared of me. It’s been a white night for many while I’ve been here with you, and I can’t have them being anxious, can I?”

Pearl nodded and settled.

With that the form dissolved, unfurling into an undulating dream.

Pearl awoke to fractal shards splayed through her blinds. It was much later than usual. She hadn’t noticed the breaking of day, as she often did.

It was New Year’s Day. Pearl was happy. Something had changed.