7 Reasons

Category: Posts

  • 7 Reasons To Give Someone A Hug

    7 Reasons To Give Someone A Hug

    Did you know it was National Hug Day today? If you are reading this in the USA then you probably did. It’s quite big over there apparently. In the UK though, it has failed to catch on. In many ways 7 Reasons are indicative of this sad situation. We are more the high-fiving kind than the hugging variety. Today that changes though. Today we hug. And you should too. Here’s why:

    7 Reasons To Give Someone A Hug

    1.  Tactical. You’re waiting for a tube, a train or a bus. And you’re not alone. There are dozens and dozens of others doing exactly them same. So many in fact that there is no way you are all going to get on. There is no way you are hanging about for another thirty minutes for the next one though, so you need a plan. What will get you on that tube, train or bus ahead of everyone else? Save for a machete, it’s hugging. If you start hugging everyone in that queue their urge to get on that next tube, train or bus will begin to diminish. So much so that they’ll be very happy to let you get on and then wait in the pouring rain. Just in case hugging is only the start.

    2.  Approach. We’ve all been in the position of seeing someone we quite like the look of. Someone we’d like to say hello to. Someone we’d like to become friends with. Maybe more than friends if you are particularly horny. But one thing always stops us. We aren’t quite sure what to say. While ‘Hello’ always sounds like a promising opening, if you can’t back it up with something else you are opening yourself up to look like a lemon. You wish that they would just come over and talk to you. That would be fine. The problem is, they are full of the same doubts that you are. They don’t really know what to say either. Which is why you both walk on, never to see each other again. It’s an opportunity missed. If this sounds like you, you need to bring out the hug. The next time you see someone you like, just walk up to them and hug them. If they don’t respond, step away and look shocked, “Oh my goodness!” you exclaim, “I am so sorry. I thought you were someone else.” They’ll understand. If they do respond though, just keep that hug going. No talking will ever be required.

    3.  Annoy Uncle Marc.  If you know one thing about Uncle Marc it’s that he doesn’t want a hug.  He doesn’t want a hug from you and he certainly doesn’t want a hug from your children.  He especially doesn’t want a hug from the child that just spilled milk all down her t-shirt and then pooed on the living room floor.  Get that child to hug him.  His face will be priceless.

    4.  Warmth. It’s easily done. You are walking along the banks of an icy river when a swan starts attacking you. In your scramble to fight back you end up in the icy waters. In a bid to avoid death and pneumonia, you make it back onto dry land. Keeping your freezing and soaking wet clothes on will do you no favours, so you quickly strip and protect your dignity with a swan’s wing. You then go in search of warmth. Bodily warmth. Fifty yards ahead you spy a man and woman out for a walk. Naked, you run towards them. They are too startled by the sight to move out of your way, leaving you to jump into their arms and regain that much needed heat.

    5.  Strength. What better way to show small children that you’re far more powerful than they are than to give them a bear-hug?  And, as you wrap you powerful, grown-up arms around them and squeeze the very air from their lungs, they’ll be really impressed.  Then they’ll file it away in their memory and return the favour when you’re an old man which, as no one ever wants to hug an old man, will be a welcome event for you.  Even if it does lead to your first incontinent episode.

    6.  Surprise. Rather unfortunately you have just bumped into the side of someone’s Mercedes. It’s not all your fault, the brake on your skateboard fell off before you reached the top of the hill. There’s still damage though. To the car. And your Sony MiniDisc. The driver looks furious. He’s getting out of the car and his moustache is quivering with rage. You have a choice. A) Skate away leaving him and the pieces of your Sony MiniDisc on the floor. B) Apologize profusely, saying you’ll pay for the damage. C) Simply give him a big old squeeze. The chances are he’ll be expecting you to do either of the first two, so by hugging him you momentarily disarm him. Once this is done, you can apologize or skate away. Whichever it is, he’ll be standing in the middle of the road wondering what the hell just happened. By the time he has realized, you’ll be hugging some other bloke half a mile down the road.

    7.  Fun. I was once told that I hug like a murderer as I favour the one-handed hug (leaving my left hand free).  Obviously, at 7 Reasons (.org) we’re not going to encourage you to use your free hand to stab the person that you’re hugging.  That would be wrong* and potentially hazardous to you, should you be foolish enough to use a knife with too long a blade.  At least you’d die in someone else’s arms though.  But no, what you should use your free hand for is to affix a note to their back saying “I stole this coat from orphans” or “Please kiss me”.   That’s the sort of thing that makes hugging worthwhile and rewarding.  Who wants a hug?

    *Not to mention the consternation that it would cause our legal representatives.

  • 7 Reasons That the Hot Toddy is THE Winter Drink

    7 Reasons That the Hot Toddy is THE Winter Drink

    The hot toddy is the winter drink.  Here are seven reasons why.

    a hot toddy in a mug.

    1.  They’re Warming.  Hot toddies are hot.  The winter is cold.  Therefore, when you arrive home after any time outdoors, you are probably cold.  Given that the temperature differential between the toddy and your body* is going to be quite substantial, the taking of the toddy will be beneficial to your body temperature and innate sense of wellbeing.

    2.  They’re Medicinal.  Given that it’s winter, you’re probably suffering from some sort of cold/flu/sniffle/sinus-block-green-stuff-induced-torpor.  The hot toddy contains cloves, which help you breathe more easily (if you embed them in the lemon properly).  If you don’t, you may accidentally get one caught in your throat and choke to death.  Still, fear of imminent death makes drinking a hot toddy far more interesting than drinking a cup of tea.

    3.  They’re Convenient.  Don’t have the necessary ingredients for a hot toddy to hand?  Well, firstly, sack your housekeeper.  Secondly, relax.  The hot toddy recipe isn’t some hideously rigid formula that must be adhered to, it’s more a rough guide to creating your own drink: Hot toddy making is an art rather than a science.  If you don’t have any whisky handy, you can use pretty much any other dark or oak-aged spirit; whiskey, brandy, grappa, rum are all acceptable (individually, don’t go mad) and bring a different flavour to proceedings.  You can also – should you find that you’re out of honey – substitute dark sugar, syrup or treacle.  My favourite alternative is maple syrup, which is from Canada, where they have weird canoes and they milk trees.

    4.  They’re Healthy.  Most hot toddy recipes suggest that you use a slice of lemon.  They are wrong.  If you use a quarter of a lemon and squeeze it before putting it in the mug (squeezing the juice into the mug, obviously, don’t just dribble it over the worktop or onto a passing cat) the toddy is much better.  Firstly it uses up a greater quantity of lemon – which is always desirable – and secondly, it puts more lemon juice into the drinker.  Not only does this give you vitamin C, it probably counts as one of your recommended five portions of fruit and vegetables per day so, disregarding clove-choking incidents, you’ll be healthier too and may live for ever.***

    5.  They’re Even Healthier.  One of the things you need to do to fight those wintry ailments is to make sure your blood sugar levels are high.  This will give you the energy you need to carry on regardless/lie down and complain that you are dying (delete as appropriate, based on sex).  This is why they give ill people Lucozade, and this is why you should drink a hot toddy, either preventative or medicinal.  That and they don’t taste of Lucozade.

    6.  They’re Even More Convenient.  You might be thinking that the last thing you want to be doing is messing about with spirits, cloves and lemons every time you want a hot drink, but the good news is that you don’t have to.  Because you can pre-make your hot toddies.  Just put all the ingredients, minus the hot water, into a mug and put it in the fridge (in our kitchen, we have a walk-in refrigerator that we call “the kitchen”).  You can put as many as you want in there.  You might also consider adding a note that says “in case of emergency, add boiling water, stir, bring upstairs to me” or some such.  Your partner/housemates/parents/children/pets/imaginary friend will doubtless appreciate that.

    7.  They Taste Good.  I seem to have forgotten to mention that they taste bloody marvellous.  Plus, the flavour is so strong, that even with a cold, it is still apparent.  And they smell so nice that other people will follow you around the house as you drink one and attempt to steal it, despite having declined your kind offer of one only ten minutes previously.  That always happens.

    *Don’t panic, I know it rhymes.  I shan’t attempt to turn that line into the start of a song.**

    **Well, I’ll try to resist it.

    ***If you fail to live for ever after switching to the hot toddy as your winter drink of choice, feel free to email your complaint to us.

    As a special bonus, here’s the recipe:

    Some whisky:  Maybe a little bit more.  A tiny bit more.  Oh, fuck it, another splash won’t hurt me.

    Two teaspoons of honey.

    A quarter of a lemon (squeezed, if you are at all health-conscious)

    Some cloves (4-8).  Embed them in the lemon or you will die.

    Hot water.

    Combine all the ingredients in a mug, then fill with hot water and stir.  Remove teaspoon.  Drink.

    (You can also add a cinnamon stick if you like cinnamon or sticks).

  • 7 Reasons Not To Ignore The Elephant In The Room

    7 Reasons Not To Ignore The Elephant In The Room

    Come on, hands up. How many of you have noticed an elephant in the room and then just turned the other cheek? Be honest. Well that was very risky of you. Don’t you know the dangers? In keeping with tradition, here are seven, yes seven, reasons why ignoring it was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong. Just wrong.

    Banksy Elephant In The Room

    1.  Love. If an elephant has entered your room there are a number of possibilities as to why. Maybe they’re lost? Maybe you’re lost (and elephant’s trunk)? Maybe they’re bored of the savanna and now want to live in Bolton? Whichever it is, ignoring them is not the way to go. The chances are they will be nervous, afraid and sceptical of their new surroundings, so the least you can do is make them feel loved and welcome.

    2.  Damage. Elephants are big lumps of meat and probably not too dexterous when it comes to tight spaces. As a result you need to watch it like a hawk. If you so much as glance back at facebook you could find yourself losing that impending insurance claim. If the elephant treads on the coffee table and the TV and the wife, but you’ve been too busy poking some fifteen year-old on the internet to notice, well, it’s just going to be your word against the elephants. And people just don’t beat elephants. At anything.

    3.  Water. This will affect those of you who have a water meter more than those who just pay for the buffet ‘all you can use’ service. Elephants like water. Sometimes they like spraying it at clowns, but for the most part they like drinking it and washing themselves with it. Unlike the bush, your home probably has water on tap. If that elephant gets anywhere near your kitchen you are going to be consolidating your debts quicker than you can say ‘Accident Help Line’.

    4.  Sticky Buns. I have no idea whether elephants and their carnal desires towards sticky buns is in fact a truth or merely a myth. The last place I want to discover if it is the former however, is in my lounge. As a result the elephant shall not move from my line of vision. And if you don’t want an elephant sucking on your weekly pleasure, I suggest you do the same.

    5.  Mates. Don’t be so naive as to think the elephant is alone. Chances are, half his/her pride are waiting outside while he/she checks out places to stay for the night. Perhaps they are headed to Scotland for the Elephant Polo World Championships? But don’t think about heading off to the study to research this on Wikipedia, because if you disappear for  evne just a split-second Babar and his mates will be flying through that hole in the wall and making them selves comfy on the sawdust. Or the sofa as it was known earlier that day.

    6.  Hunters. Sadly, you are not the only endangered species here. It is quite possible that the elephant is hiding at yours because some git is after his/her tusks. I can’t believe for a minute that you are pro-elephant hunting, so you won’t let it back on the street, will you? Instead you must protect it. And protecting it means keeping an eye on it at all times. If you let it wander off to the kitchen alone the hunter will see his opportunity. He won’t waste a moment. Before you know it he will have popped his weapon through the cat flap and fired off rapidly. You’d need more than a Kleenex to clear up that mess.

    7.  Comfort. Or lack of it. The elephant in the room is glaring. The elephant in the room makes everyone uncomfortable. The elephant in the room is a hindrance to achievement. The elephant in the room scares the cat. The elephant in the room keeps squashing unused lemons into the carpet. It’s getting ridiculous. It’s time to stop ignoring it. You must deal with the elephant now. Right now. It’ll be for the best. We promise.

  • 7 Reasons The Darren Bent Transfer Rumours Are…er… Just A Bit Strange

    7 Reasons The Darren Bent Transfer Rumours Are…er… Just A Bit Strange

    1.  They’re Memorable.  Wait.  What.  Huh?  Never mind people remembering where they were when they heard that Kennedy had been shot by Lee Harvey Oswald/spooks on the grassy knoll/a Wisconsin bear hunter’s epic and unfortunate ricochet.  Never mind people remembering where they were when Diana had been killed in a traffic accident/sinister Prince Philip-backed plot/returning of his angel to heaven by Jesus.  Those events have now been overshadowed by our own epoch-defining memorable moment.  Henceforth, we will all remember where we were when we heard the rumour that Darren Bent was leaving Sunderland for Aston Villa for £18 million.

    2.  They’re Shocking.  ”Eighteen million pounds!”, I exclaimed as I spat my morning espresso at my laptop.  “Darren Bent!”. “Eighteen million pounds!”.  And suddenly my previously sleeping cat appeared by my side, staring at me, with a curious expression on his face and his ears pricked.  And then it dawned on me.  The shock of the news had caused me to say “Eighteen million pounds” in a voice so high that it shocked my cat.  A voice so high that out of the two of us, only he could hear it.  A voice so high that Keith Richards on the seventh day of a bender in an opium den would have to gaze upward to see it.  Using a telescope.

    3.  They’re Incomprehensible.  After a bit of a lie down, during which my voice fell back down to Earth from the upper ionosphere and my cat got on with some urgent dozing, I tried to digest the news.  Nope.  It doesn’t compute.  There is nothing about this news that isn’t baffling and incomprehensible, and I’m married to a woman and live in Yorkshire, so I’m one of the world’s foremost authorities on baffling and incomprehensible.

    4.  The Money.  Eighteen million pounds, to be exact (I may have already mentioned this).  Now eighteen million pounds isn’t what it used to be.  Time was when eighteen million pounds could probably buy you a Premier League winning squad, but those days are gone and with Manchester City paying silly money for every world-class player out there, transfer fees are currently sky-high.  But Darren Bent isn’t a world-class player, and Man City aren’t trying to buy him (they already have Jo) so how in all the name of all that is holy can anyone justify paying eighteen million pounds for Darren Bent?  Darren Bent!  He was overpriced at sixteen and a half million when he signed for Spurs four years ago and he looked a better player back then with more potential.  How is he one and a half million pounds better now?  We’ve all seen the sitter he famously missed against Portsmouth and yes, Sandra Redknapp could have scored it.  With her eyes closed.  How can a club that didn’t back its previous manager with transfer funds at the start of the season now justify spending eighteen million pounds now.  On Darren Bent?  Rafael van der Vaart has been the best signing in the Premier League this season and he only cost eight million.  Is Darren Bent ten better than van der Vaart?  Really?

    5.  It’s Aston Villa.  Last season, a move to Villa would have looked like a step-up for Darren Bent.  But this season Steve Bruce has got Sunderland playing fantastic football (except against Newcastle) and they’re an improving squad in the hunt to get European football next year.  And Darren Bent is an integral part of the first team.  Villa, on the other hand, are hovering alarmingly above the relegation zone and are fielding a team half full of old men and children every match; it’s a bit like the home team in Berlin in 1945, except that they’re managed by Gerard Houllier.  Why would anyone want to change to that side?

    Is this a logical move?

    6.  It’s Greedy.  The only thing that can possibly be motivating this move from the top of the Premier League to the bottom is money.  It can’t be to improve his game by working with Houllier and it doesn’t seem likely that he wants to return to the Championship, so it must be solely for the money.  But it’s not as if he’s earning a pauper’s wage, he’s a Premier League football player!  How much more money can he possibly need?  There can’t have been avarice on this scale since…well, okay…it happens every day, but outside of banking and parliament, there can’t have been such a naked example of greed since the dawn of time.  Or perhaps earlier.

    7.  Breaking News.  As I’ve been writing this the fee has changed.  Now it’s twenty four million pounds!  It’s gone up.  Now he’s three times better than van der Vaart.  In fact, Fernando Torres only cost Liverpool twenty million.  So Darren Bent is now better than Fernando Torres.  I give up!  This can’t be real, I’m just going to assume that it’s all some sort of strange dream and hope that when I wake up this whole story isn’t here.  There’s no place like home…There’s no place like home…

  • 7 Reasons To Stone The Crows

    7 Reasons To Stone The Crows

    Crows sitting on a telephone line in the rain

    1. Farmers. I have never been a farmer, lacking as I do the necessary sheepdog and accompanying whistle. I imagine, though, it must be tough work. Tiring work. Frustrating work. Especially if you have ploughed your field and sowed the seed only to see a flock of crows engulf the scene. It’s at this point when you have a choice. Allow them to eat your livelihood or revert to the stones. Whichever you choose, you also need to invest in a better scarecrow. *

    2. Rivalry. If you live in the city of Adelaide, Australia, you may well support Port Adelaide Football Club in the AFL. In doing so you immediately have a rival. They are across town and are called the Adelaide Crows. You may take exception to defeat at the hands of your nemesis and wish to take matters into your own hands. To, you know, bring some pride back to your end of town.*

    3. Attack. Picture the scene. You are walking along the street, minding your own business, when an armoured vehicle rocks up next to you with crows on its roof. And when I say crows, I mean a Common Remotely Operated Weapon Station. You know, one of those things that you can mount a machine gun on and then operate from the comfort and security of the driver’s seat. If this happens you need to get prepared. If he starts firing you need to use whatever means you can to fight back. And chucking stones at the crows might be your only hope. Good luck.*

    4.  Words. The collective noun for crows is a murder and, if we take that as some sort of corrupted historical instruction, we should be killing them.  Now, shooting them would probably be the best way to do this but, as most of the 7 Reasons readership is based in the UK, there probably aren’t that many gun-owners among us.  This would leave us furiously hurling bullets at them (which would be expensive) or desperately searching for alternate methods of killing them.  Though they live in trees and rope is in plentiful supply from chandlers all around our island nation, hanging them isn’t practical as crows can defy gravity.  Basically they’d just flutter about for a bit then fly back to the branch we’d hanged them from so, in essence, we’d just be tying crows to trees.  Where they live anyway.  This really leaves stoning as the only viable option.

    5.  Australia. In Australia, where the phrase stone the crows is said to have originated – or should that be aboriginated – the crows eat lambs.  That’s right, lambs.  Now I haven’t been too close to Australian lambs, but they seem like quite sizeable creatures to me.  And frankly, if I lived in an upside-down land where large black birds were capable of swooping up from the sky below me and killing animals that are the size of human babies (which apparently have enough to fear from dingoes over there as it is), I’d be ready to stone them too.  Or I’d go even further and rock them.  What’s more, being English, my throws would have a better chance of hitting them than the natives’ efforts.***

    6.  Do The Right Thing. Crows are the proper animal to stone.  I – before I corrected a spelling mistake – spent an earlier paragraph exhorting you, the reader, to stone the cows.  But cows are definitely not an animal that you should be stoning.   They’re large – surprisingly fast – and would probably become quite cross if you were to hurl stones at them.  Not to mention the possibility of being shot by a furious and ruddy-faced farmer.  Stoning cows is wrong.  Stoning crows is right.

    7.  Kia-Ora. Remember the Kia-Ora advert where crows impersonate a hobo-child’s dog to relieve him of his Kia-Ora, despite his protestations that it’s too orangey for them?  You’ll know if you’ve seen it, the music will still be reverberating round your head over twenty-five years later ready to surface when you least expect it to.  Or want it to.  Which is never.

    Enjoy!

    And now we all probably want to stone the crows.

    *7 Reasons would like to point out that we do not condone the stoning of crows whether they be real crows, the Adelaide Crows or the Common Remotely Operated Weapon Station.**

    **No, on second thoughts, fuck them.  Stone away.

    ***We can probably keep this up until the next Ashes series in 2013.

  • 7 Reasons Reccurring Dreams Are Annoying

    7 Reasons Reccurring Dreams Are Annoying

    I had a dream last night. And the other week. And last month. And the month before that. It’s getting boring now. Annoying even.

    Dreams are like rainbows. Only idiots chase them.

    1.  Repetition. As one may have established a reccurring dream is one that happens time after time after time. I suffer with one. It’s about me, back at school or university, with an impending deadline. The problem is, I haven’t even started doing my work. The scenario usually means I have twenty-four hours to write a dissertation. As dreams go, it is rubbish. I’d be annoyed if it happened once in a year, but to have it once every couple of weeks is just plain tiresome.

    2.  Panic. Despite the fact that it is a dream, I can’t help but get in panic. Though it’s an odd panic. In my dream I am not panicking. Which annoys me for starters, but it’s not half as annoying as the panic I feel in the sleeping me. As if I am watching my dream from above yet I am unable to control any of my actions. I want myself to panic, in much the same way as I want England to play good football. The more I want it though, the more I seem to laugh about the situation. In much the same way as the more I want England to play good football, the more Emile Heskey touches the ball.

    3.  Logic. Or should that be the lack of it. In last nights dream I appeared to be less interested in getting to the library to do my work and instead was solely focused on returning the ‘Automatic Putting Device’ to its home in the shed. No, I have no idea what an ‘Automatic Putting Device’ is either. Nor why it lives in a shed. In real-life I would like to think I would question such a thing, but in my dream state it was as natural to me as scratching my armpit.

    4.  Meaning. What does a reccurring dream about not doing your coursework mean? It’s not as if when I was at school or university I didn’t do my work and get it in on time. Well, not often anyway. So it’s not as if I am re-living my younger days and it’s not a metaphor for my attitude today. If I don’t have any work I can hardly hand it in late can I? It’s baffling.

    5.  People. None of my friends or family ever appear in my reccurring dreams, which seems somewhat ironic seeing as they are the reccurring characters in my life. Instead, I end up being friends with someone from school or university who I have never been friends with in my life. That’s not to say I disliked them, we just didn’t hang around together. In my dream though, we seem to do nothing but hang around together. Hang around together not doing our coursework and taking Automatic Putting Devices to sheds. Hardly the stuff of legend.

    6. Realisation. That moment when I wake up and realise it was all a dream. Again. I curse myself for being unable to dream about something more interesting. Cricket or tea or an opossum. And then I curse myself for not realising during the dream that I was dreaming. Why can’t I just recognise that I have been here before? Why can’t I wake myself up, turn over and think about Dame Edna Everage talking to her opossums? Why? Why can’t I?

    7. Resentment. They say the grass is always greener on the other side. Sometimes, this is ridiculously wide of the mark, but when it comes to me and my dreams, it is as true as the existence of you and me. If there is ever a conversation about dreams, I try and avoid it. I don’t want to listen to their tales of heroism and joviality. I get jealous. Why them? Why not me? Even more frustrating is when I am asked if I had a dream. I can only describe the feeling as one of loneliness and inadequacy. And it keeps me annoyed for the rest of the day.

  • 7 Reasons That Chugging Doesn’t Work On Me

    7 Reasons That Chugging Doesn’t Work On Me

    Chugging: I hate it.  Being chugged is a loathsome experience and I can’t help thinking ill of chuggers either.  And their chuggery-pokery just doesn’t work on me.  Here’s why.

    1.  It’s Always Me.  Anyone who claims that they are always targeted by chuggers might come across as somewhat paranoid or persecutional. But, the fact is, that I am always targeted by chuggers.  Literally, every last damned one of them will see me coming and try to stop me on the street.  Other people seem to be able to walk along the street unmolested.  My wife, for example, rarely gets stopped, but I can’t walk down a busy shopping street without having to fight off swarms (no idea what the collective noun for chuggers is.  A horde?  A phalanx?  A menace?) of them.  Do I have a kind face?  Do I look gullible?  Do I look like Danny Wallace?  No, none of those things (well perhaps the second) but, despite this, Saturday afternoon shopping for me is like running the gauntlet, but with fewer Romans, and more laminated id cards on lanyards.

    2.  Time.  The assumption that my time isn’t important is infuriating.  They’re trying to steal my time.  And I like time.  I don’t have enough of it already, so I’m very protective of the time that I have.  If I’m wandering around town with some friends looking relaxed and happy, then that’s because it’s time I’ve set aside for wandering around town with my friends looking relaxed and happy.  It’s not an indicator that my time would be better spent talking to a chugger about cancer for ten minutes before we both agree that it’s probably a bad thing and I give them all my money via direct debit over the next five years.  Nor is it an indicator that I’m not doing anything important.  I am. The assumption that I’ve nothing better to do than talk (or, as they prefer; listen, nod and agree) with someone I don’t know about a cause that they’re interested in is just arrogant.

    3.  The Guilt-Trip.  A woman signing people up to an environmental charity once said to me, as I rushed past her on the way to meet my wife for lunch, “Don’t you care about the environment?”.  This was brilliant.  I could reply “no”, and appear to be a borderline sociopath who cared not one whit about something fundamental to human existence, or I could reply “yes”, and leave myself open to her pitch.  Because that’s what she wanted.  She wanted use my innate sense of social responsibility and congenital niceness to trap me into a dialogue with her.  I had to think on my feet. “Don’t you care about my wife?”, I replied.  This worked.  She just gazed at me, perplexed, which allowed me to continue my journey*.  But why should I be made to feel guilty just because my agenda is different and I don’t want to stop and sign up to her cause?

    4.  Politeness.  I’m a well-brought-up young man.  And chugging attempts to ruthlessly exploit that to deprive me of time and money.  I was raised to be nice to people.  To stop and listen to them when they are talking to me and certainly not to ignore someone and walk away when they’re addressing me.  But chugging forces me to do that.  This makes me feel like a bad person.  Not as bad as Hitler, obviously, but not as good as I would like to think I am, which is sort of a happy medium between Mother Theresa and the Pope.  And by a happy medium, I don’t mean Derek Ocorah, he seems like a right misery.  I hate having to interrupt people in order to go about my business.  It makes me feel awful.

    5.  Passion.  There’s no doubt that many chuggers are passionate about the causes they are trying to sign people up to.  But that doesn’t mean that I’m passionate about that cause.  And that doesn’t make me a bad person.  If I don’t want to sign up to a lifetime of Red Cross junk mail, email or any other form of spam that doesn’t mean that I don’t care about medicine or disaster relief.  What it does mean is that perhaps my money and time (both of which are finite resources) go to other – equally worthy – causes that I prefer.  What I shouldn’t have to do is justify that decision to a stranger every time I go into town to buy some light bulbs or a new wok.**

    6.  It’s Cynical.  Chuggers are earning money to sign people up to their causes.  They’re not being paid commission, this is a myth.  But no one would get paid a wage if they weren’t effectively raising money for the causes that they represent.  So while they’re attempting to make me feel guilty for not signing up to (which they tend not to recognise is a wholly different thing to not caring about) their causes, they’re profiting from the transaction.  Their attempts to sign me up aren’t wholly altruistic yet they’re represented as being so.  It causes me to wonder whether they genuinely believe in what they’re trying to sign me up to, or whether they’re cynically attempting to exploit me to hit a performance target.

    7.  It Taints My View Of The Charity.  In fact, it makes me think uncharitable thoughts about charitable causes.  I love Amnesty International, I think it’s a brilliant organisation, but will they be getting any money from me?  No.  Because I’m the sort of person who won’t support organisations whose practices I disagree with.  I’m not saying I definitely would have donated money to AI had they not attempted to sign me up twelve times one Wednesday afternoon (which, ironically, may be an infringement of my human rights), but I certainly won’t be doing so now.  I won’t be signing up to any morally reprehensible pro-oppression organisations to spite Amnesty though, that would be taking things too far, and the WI seem to be getting on fine without my help, but Amnesty have insured that they won’t be getting any of my money.  Their chugging has been counter-productive.

    *I could have substituted any phrase for “my wife” as long as I’d answered the question with a question.  It’s foolproof.  “The Gruffalo”, “Mathematical Biology”, “my underpants”,”The Moon”,”Cheryl Cole”. All of those would have worked equally well and would have allowed me to make my escape.  Try it yourself.

    **Which is not very often, I don’t go through an abnormal amount of woks.  I go through a regular amount of woks.

  • 7 Reasons Being Back At Work Is Great

    7 Reasons Being Back At Work Is Great

    The maverick tendencies amongst the 7 Reasons team have meant that we are returning to work two days later than the majority. Well, why not? We work weekends too. It dawned on us though that instead of being a bad thing, going back to work is actually awesome. Really, really awesome.

    Back To Work Logo

    1.  Internet. A glorious invention full of all kinds of the weird and wonderful. Mainly on YouTube. And it’s these weird and wonderful things that you just don’t have time to read, watch, play and look at during the holiday. When you are at work though, time is aplenty. And as the saying goes, ‘when at work, everyone is interested in a video of a dancing dustman’.

    2.  Daydreaming. When you are on holiday, you are always doing something. Even if you are doing nothing you are still doing something. As such it’s not a conducive environment in which to daydream. Work though? Well that is an entirely different situation. When you are doing nothing at work you really are doing nothing. And this is when you start drifting off. What will happen in Eastenders tonight? Could I jump from the top of that building on to the top of that one? I wonder what they are playing on Aada FM at the moment?

    3.  Ideas. When you are daydreaming you may invent something. Or you might realise something. Or you might decide you need to visit somewhere. Or contact someone. You never have these thoughts when you are on holiday. You never have great ideas when you are on holiday. That would be too convenient. No, you’ll only invent a squirrel powered washing machine when you are stuck at work, unable to do anything about it. Which, when you think about it, is something of a relief. Not just to the squirrel population, but also your partner who quite likes the kitchen in it’s current state.

    4.  Mindset. Have you noticed we are in our most optimistic and happy moods when at work? Think about it. When you are at work you spend your days looking forward to your next holiday. Yet, when you are on holiday, you spend the days dreading going back to work. Which just proves holidays are twisted individuals.

    5.  Pressure. Being on holiday is hard. The pressure to actually enjoy your time off is so great that many people crack and spend all their time in bed watching ITV. Deciding what to do with your day takes hours and by the time you have decided it’s too late in the day. So you agree to spend the day relaxing in bed and get up early the next day to do whatever it is you are now too late to do. But when you wake up the next day it is raining. So the whole process starts again. Compiling that report in two hours seems a doddle compared to this.

    6.  Exaggeration. Your holiday is always so much better when you are back at work than it was when you were actually in the middle of it. When talking to colleagues, that week in a camper-van in a lay-by outside Swansea becomes a walking holiday in the Welsh valleys. Four rainy days in Paris becomes a week in the Parisian sun sampling great wine, food and berets. Two weeks with food poisoning in Egypt becomes a life-changing trip in amongst the pyramids and the camels. Which makes you wonder why people go on holiday in the first place? You may as well stay at work and read the Thomas Cook website.

    7.  Guilt. If you spend your holiday watching repeats of Friends you feel terribly guilty. Do it at work though and you feel incredibly proud. That’s why work rules.

  • 7 Reasons That I Won’t Be Sending My Christmas Cards Until Christmas Eve

    7 Reasons That I Won’t Be Sending My Christmas Cards Until Christmas Eve

    It’s almost Christmas and one of the aspects of the festival that I hate the most is writing Christmas cards.   But I’ve come up with a cunning plan for dealing with them.  This year, I won’t be sending any Christmas cards out until Christmas Eve.  Here are seven reasons why.

    A stack of envelopes with stamps affixed ready to be dispatched

    1.  Space.  When you’re buying your stamps or posting your cards, the post office on Christmas Eve is a far more convivial atmosphere than the post office on December 18th.  When I’m posting my cards tomorrow, I’m going to be alone, with just the post office staff wearing their Santa hats and antlers, and eating their mince pies, (which they’ll probably share with me).   And, instead of being stuck in a long mazy queue of grey people coughing, I’m going to have space to stretch my arms out and spin around.  And that’s what I’m going to do; just because I can.  And because it’s less cruel than swinging a cat.

    2.  Time.  Leaving the cards until the last minute will have other benefits too.  Had I written my cards early I’d have spent lots of time writing them out neatly, but I didn’t do that this year, and now that Christmas Eve is almost upon us, I’m doing the Christmas cards as a rush job.  So that’s a lot less time that I’ve spent writing cards: Time that I was able to use more productively.  I didn’t obviously, I spent it mulling things and playing Angry Birds. I also photoshopped a hat onto the statue of liberty.  But it’s still time saved.

    3.  Inclusivity.  It’s more inclusive if I send my cards on Christmas Eve.  After all, I’m notoriously forgetful, but I know who I’ve received a card from because there’s a bushel of them in the living room.  Or a gross.  Or a flock (I have no idea how quantities of cards are measured), so it’s easy enough for me to work out who’s sent them and reply.  So if you’ve sent me a card, you’ll get one in return:  And if you haven’t, then you won’t.  Obviously if anyone else is using the same system as me then that’s unfortunate, but if they are, that would benefit the…

    4.  Environment.  That the Christmas cards I’ve sent won’t be received until after Christmas is good for the planet.  Because no one sends out a Christmas card after Christmas, so people won’t send out any cards in reply to mine.  So there’ll be less wasted paper, and I’ll have less recycling to do in January.  Which is great, as the first recycling day of the New Year is usually like some sort of glass-themed labour of Hercules, but without Hercules and starring me instead.

    5.  Blame.  And no one even need know that their cards weren’t sent until Christmas Eve (unless they’re reading this.  Damn) because what’s the default opinion on the Royal Mail in this country?  It’s that they’re hapless and inefficient.  That’s not strictly true.  Most of the time, they’re dedicated people doing a fine, and quite thankless, job, but they’ll automatically get the blame for the tardy arrival of my cards anyway.  But that’s their problem and I don’t mind using it to my advantage.  After all, I’ve never been stupid enough to change my name to Consignia and they have.

    6.  How To Win Friends And Influence People.  When no card arrives before Christmas, friends, family and acquaintances will probably think “The bastard!  He hasn’t sent us a folded over piece of paper with a picture of a fat, bearded man on the front and some illegible scrawl within!  How could he do this to me?” But then, when the card turns up a few days after Christmas (“bloody post office”) they’ll feel loved and wanted again.  And they’ll feel bad for thinking ill of me, which they’ll probably compensate for by being even more well-disposed toward me than usual.  So if I keep doing this every Christmas, people will eventually feel so much affection for me that they will probably erect statues of me when I’m in my old age.  I could get canonized! I could become the next Princess Diana!*

    7.  Finances.  I won’t need to buy cards until the last minute, by which time I’ll know exactly how many I need.  So none will be wasted.  So I’ll be saving money.  That’s money that I can spend on other Christmas things like candles that get brought out once a year that nobody ever lights, or those owl baubles that my wife saw (because nothing says Christmas more than a rodent-terrorising bird of prey hanging from a tree).  By leaving the cards until the last moment, I’m going to be better off financially, and I’m going to benefit in many, many other ways too.  I’m a genius!  A mean genius.  I’m a meanius!

    *But my mother-in-law won’t be on the stamps.