Tag: Guest

7 Reasons It’s Time To Fin…

Hello people of the world and of other places that we’re less familiar with. We have an announcement to make. It’s time to fin….Here are (wait for it! Wait for it!) seven reasons why.

1. Familiarity Breeds Apathy – Part A (Us). The more observant of you will have noticed that 7 Reasons has been rocking the internet for two years. In the beginning we made a promise to ourselves – and you – that we would post every single day. And, for the most part, we did. For the statisticians among you our strike-rate was a healthy 92.28%. The problem is, as time passed, we grew weary of the 7 Reasons format. By the time we published our 690th post/4,830th reason, the joy had dissipated. It had become more of a chore than an enjoyment. So we’re stepping back. We’re tearing up our promise and changing it to something like, ‘7 Reasons for something or other if and when we think of it, which we might. Possibly. Or not’. In other words, the relentless day to day posting is a thing of the past. Instead we’ll post irregularly. As and when we think of things. The joy will come back, the writing will be more fun for us and angry emails accusing each other of failing to deliver will cease. We might even become friends.

2. Familiarity Breeds Apathy – Part B (You). We’re modern men. We can pick up signals. As a 7 Reasons reader – and we are thankful to all of you who turn to us for your lunchtime* reading – we know it’s easy to think it’s okay to miss a post. And of course it’s okay. As strange as it may seem, we’re not your parents, and we’re especially not your mother. What isn’t acceptable is why you’re missing them. Don’t like the topic? Fine. Too busy at work? Fine. Happy to miss one because there’ll be another one along tomorrow? Not fine. Again, that’s not what 7 Reasons is supposed to be about. So by going to an irregular format, we’re making 7 Reasons posts a novelty. Something to cherish and savour.

3. Autophagia. That’s right. We’ve begun to eat ourselves. 7 Reasons has become a part of our daily lives. And not necessarily in a good way. In a bygone era we had blogs and if something grabbed our attention we’d write about it there. If it didn’t, we’d leave it well alone. In the past two years we haven’t been able to leave anything alone. It has been impossible to do anything without working out how a 7 Reasons post could be made out of it. While it was kind of fun for us initially – and is great for friends who keep suggesting topics, no matter how hard we try to stop them – it’s actually a quite restrictive format to write to. And 7 Reasons was never meant to make us cantankerous old gits. But that’s what we’ve become. It’s time the old Marc and Jon came out to play again. The uncynical Marc and Jon. The ones who – on seeing a woman falling down a manhole cover – would feel obliged to effect a rescue (or at least make a video), rather than to begin writing 7 Reasons Women Shouldn’t Fall Down Manholes.***

4. Time. A lot of it has been dedicated to 7 Reasons. Remember the good old days when Jon was busily planning 83-trips back and forth across America, catching 100 buses in one night, searching the world for his best-friend’s look-alike, growing a mo and making Richard Bacon seem interesting? Well, in the last two years he hasn’t done any of that sort of thing. And that’s not what 7 Reasons was supposed to do. It wasn’t supposed to consume so much time. Its overbearing beat wasn’t supposed to dominate the rhythm of our lives.

“What’ve you been doing today Marc?” friends ask.

“7 Reasons,” comes the reply.

And that’s the same conversation both of us have been having for the last two years**. We want to be able to reply with, “I’ve been writing a script”, “I painted six sheep luminous yellow” or “I’ve been wondering why See Hear has a theme tune”. We want to be fun again. Or daft. Or both. And we will be.

5. Archive. There’s enough stuff here already. There’s bloody loads of it. There are many, many very good posts here containing some of our best words that have barely been read at all. Every once in a while, someone will discover one of them, dust it off, share it with their friends and it’ll get loads of hits for a few days and then it’ll quieten down again. Then another thing that even we’d forgotten we’d written will get discovered and shared around the world. If you think you’ve read every post you’re probably wrong. Or, even if you’re right, you’ve probably forgotten them by now and could read them again afresh. If you think of 7 Reasons as a goldfish bowl, we have put the gravel and water in, plus the castle, the diver, some food and a post about attacking a train with stones and excrement. You (the golden fish in this scenario) can merrily swim around here forever reading and rereading things with nary a hint of deja vu. We have written enough.

6. It’s Not Like We’re Totally Going Away. We’re not. We’re still running the Emporium – in fact, we’re putting new merchandise into it soon – and we’ll still be doing strange things to the back end of the website in the middle of the night, usually with disastrous consequences. We just won’t be here every day. Well, we probably will, we just won’t be saying anything with our words. Or our pictures. So we won’t be posting anything under Daily Posts any more. Instead, we’ll be posting things under New Posts, should the mood take us. We’ll also still be happy to accept good guest posts from readers(/writers) that we know. After all, guest posts are brilliant. Sometimes it’s as if they just write themselves.

7. Because We’ve Started Talking French. After all, it’s not goodbye. It’s au revoir. Au revoir!

*Midnight reading if it’s a Fearns’ day

**Not together

***Unintentional innuendo win

October 27, 2011
7 Reasons That I’ve Been Baffled By A Doormat

Okay, I’ve been really confused. I’ve had a tricky problem that’s been plaguing me for the past two days that I think I’ve finally solved but it’s been quite a journey. It all started with a new arrival*. A doormat. I bought it to go inside the front door in the 3’ x 3’ space that, if I were grand, I’d refer to as my entrance hall or vestibule. As it is, I’ve really never referred to that space before, I just know it as the-area-behind-the-front-door or occasionally the-area-in-front-of-the-world. Anyway, I digress. Below these words and above some more is a picture of the doormat. Here are seven reasons that it’s been baffling me.

1. Perspective. Yesterday morning, I pulled the mat from its bag and strode to the front door. I had blithely supposed that I would be able to place the doormat inside the door and walk away to do something else. Something important. Something interesting. But as I went to place the mat on the floor I felt troubled. The problem was that the mat has a picture on it. That means that it’s no mere utilitarian home accessory. It’s also art. Not high-art, admittedly. It’s not Da Vinci’s Mona Lisa or Klimpt’s Portrait of Adele Bloch-Bauer I, which is fortunate as they probably wouldn’t fare well hanging on the floor in my hallway, and I would probably soon tire of the tourists. But it’s still art. And art’s there to be contemplated and enjoyed, to enhance an environment and provide stimulation for those that inhabit the same space. Essentially, in this case, I realised that when I looked at the owls, I wanted them not to be upside down.

2. But That Would Be Unwelcoming. Surely the doormat should face outward. To welcome guests. To make a nice first impression. What would we be saying by having the mat face inward? That we’re selfish people that want the owls the right way up for ourselves and care not a whit for the feelings of others? That would make us appear distinctly unwelcoming. You can’t greet people with upside down owls. It’s a question of doormat etiquette. Doormatiquette.

3. But! Does an outward facing mat welcome guests though? Because when the guests come into the house – and they sometimes do, we’re sociable people that don’t bite – the owls would be upside down. So then everybody would be looking at the owls the wrong way up. Both guests and residents. No one would win.

4. Furthermore! Having an outward facing mat would send another message. An unwelcoming message. And that message is Stop! Come no further. Being in the house is an anti climax. Beyond this point, the owls are upside down. If you stay outside it’s better. These people have put this thing here to make sure you stand on their doorstep and come no further. I was beginning to realise that placing a doormat was more complicated than I thought it was going to be.

5. A Compromise? Okay, so there was no way I could have the doormat facing inward or outward. But could I compromise? Turning the doormat sideways would seem to be a fair thing to do, but wait?! A sideways doormat! That would be weird. If someone opened a front door to you and their doormat was sideways you’d think they were barmy. You’d assume that they were a gibbering harebrain that spent their nights pointing at the moon and their days pointing at the space the moon had been the previous night, pausing only to laugh hysterically at bicycles. Have you ever been in the house of anyone with a sideways doormat? No. Of course not. People that have been in the houses of people with sideways doormats are probably still there tied down in the cellar or imprisoned in the shed, being forced to eat balloons and comb a jelly or some equally bizarre and hideous fate. The sideways doormat compromise was out.

6. Brainstorming. By this point, I realised I needed help**. I decided to ask Twitter. Carrying the doormat over to the computer, I tweeted my dilemma. With help from @kittyQ, @davidofyork, @kateypotatey, @jonesyinc1 and @amazingzeesh (all lovely tweeters) I brainstormed the problem. It was difficult and there was no real consensus. The nearest we got to a solution was @kateypotatey’s idea of hanging the doormat on the wall and putting it down facing outward only when anyone knocked on the door. But that raised a further problem. What would we do when the guests came in? Wait for them to cross the threshold and then hang the doormat up on the wall? That would make us look odd. Not sideways-doormat-odd, but still a teensy bit weird. And if we didn’t hang it back on the wall we’d all be looking at upside down owls again. Unless I turned the mat to face inward after they came in but that would appear strange too. And what if more guests arrived while existing guests were there? What if we had a party? Should my wife be responsible for making drinks and handing out nibbles while I take charge of rotating the doormat and greeting people? That doesn’t sound like much of a party to me. Or a picnic. The capacity for it all to go horribly wrong would be endless. I felt dizzy just thinking about it. I decided to sleep on it.

7. And Sleep Helped. This morning, when I woke I had an idea. I walked downstairs and turned the doormat upside down. The doormat would be ostensibly plain and no one would get to see the owls, but I would be able to peek at them whenever I liked. We’d have secret owls. But that felt ungenerous and it bothered me for most of the day. This evening, however, I did solve the problem. What I need to do is position the mat picture side up, facing outwards, and to convince myself and everyone that comes into the house that it’s a picture of three owls standing on their heads. I also need to make them forget that I’ve convinced them of that when they leave. What I need is a live-in hypnotist. Anyone know one?

*Cue angry mob.

**And I sense that many people might agree with me.

October 4, 2011
Guest Post: 7 Reasons That Christmas ALWAYS Gets Me in the End

It’s Saturday, and the 7 Reasons team have abandoned the sofa in order to rush, blinking out into the sunlight like pit-ponies escaping from their daily labour. But, fear not, for the sofa is in safe hands. Guest hosting this week is the lovely Liz Gregory – that’s right, her of Things to do in Manchester fame – who despite being from Manchester, isn’t going to prattle on about Coronation Street, she’s going to talk about Christmas. Now settle down, children, and she’ll begin.

Every year it’s the same. I roll my eyes at those poor souls who have done all their present shopping by August; I can tut as cynically as anyone at the Christmas songs repeated on an endless, hideous loop in certain shops from the beginning of November. I am a grown woman with a full time job, and the shameless commercial enterprise that is Christmas has no place in my busy and important lifestyle. But by December, I’m hooked, brimming with festive excitement. Again. Here’s why….

1. The weather. Surely even the most hardened and wizened of souls must admit that nothing looks more enticingly festive than a fresh coating of snow, with the power to wipe out an ugly urban landscape of wheelie bins and cat poo, and replace it with pristine perfection. And I say this despite the fact that I am seemingly the only teacher in the UK not to have received a single snow day in the recent bad weather – I have had to go to work and perform the job for which I am paid EVERY SINGLE DAY.

2. Rosy-cheeked children. No, not the bratty whiny ones running amok in the supermarket trying to grab everything in sight – they are the ones to avoid if you’re trying to be misty-eyed and non-cynical about Christmas. I mean the angelic ones who assemble at Christmas lights switch-ons, warbling traditional festive songs and obligingly going “ooohhh” when the lights are turned on.

3. The Christmas Radio Times. I take enormous comfort in the fact that even though we live in a high-tech, culturally diverse society where we celebrate individuality and cutting-edge modernity, at least fifty percent of the UK will have spent the last week leafing through the Christmas Radio Times, armed with a marker pen, drawing wonky circles around the plethora of bad television they wish to watch this Yuletide. The fact that you will only actually watch three of these programmes is entirely besides the point – the pleasure lies in the selection, not the viewing.

4. Alcohol. One of the overwhelming perks of December is that it becomes socially acceptable to consume alcohol at virtually any time of day without anyone raising their eyebrows and calling you an alky. So that means sherry at elevenses is fine, as is bucks fizz at breakfast and Amaretto Sours at lunch. I do not, of course, live like this at other times of the year.

5. Decorations. Yes, Nigella is annoying, but I do admire the fact that her house (or her studio-masquerading-as-house, one is never quite sure) appears to be permanently bedecked with fairy lights. I am not brave enough to try to convince my husband that this is acceptable all year round, which means I must make the most of the carte blanche that Christmas brings. Turn the big light off, switch the fairy lights on, and hey presto! Your house instantly looks clean and tidy in the murky pixie gloom.

6. Food. I am by nature a most abstemious person, unlikely to over-indulge in any way, but the range of tasty morsels positively flung one’s way at this time of year makes it impossible to refuse. As with the alcohol, it is de rigueur to adjust one’s notions of what acceptably constitutes a balanced meal – as long as you select items from both the savoury AND the sweet party food ranges, you should be absolutely fine.

7. Two weeks off. I enjoy my job, and by anyone’s standards, working in a college in the run up to Christmas must surely be as good a place to be as any. Giant tins of Quality Street lurk at every turn, and teaching English means that the final week offers plenty of chances to watch Wuthering Heights and eat popcorn. And yet, the prospect of two weeks off, spent lolling on the sofa, opening the odd present and reverting to a lifestyle where your mum brings you a cup of tea in bed in the morning, is surely something to be cherished.

So, if anyone fancies a mince pie or three in the semi-gloom of my Nigella kitchen I’ll see you shortly; only visitors bearing sherry will be admitted, mind.

December 11, 2010
Russian Roulette Sunday: Badges

A long, long time ago, way back in the mists of 7 Reasons(.org) history, Jon promised that there would be badges for guest posters, and Marc rolled his eyes and said, “SHH! You’ll bankrupt us before we’ve even started.” But now, many months – possibly even a whole year later – we have an announcement to make about badges for guest posters.

We’ve never forgotten the promised badges, and just recently we took another look into the 7 Reasons coffers (once we’d located them in a dusty ante-room) to see if badges were now feasible. As we expectantly lifted the heavy wooden lid of our treasure chest it creaked with reassuring portent and, with the light of our torches to guide us, we peered into the interior of the dark, gloomy box.

To say that we were amazed by what we found there would be an understatement. After we had emptied the contents of the chest into a pile on the floor and methodically totalled it up, we were staggered.

So now, we can announce that the 7 Reasons Badge Fund stands at…(drum-roll)…(go on, just bang on the desk, no one will think you’re mad)…half a dead spider, a creased Post-it® note, the crumbs from several ginger nut biscuits, twelve business cards, a mug with a broken handle and a lemon. Plus some blue stuff that neither of us wanted to touch.

But necessity is the mother of invention and we’re nothing if not creative here so we’ve made badges anyway. For free. In Photoshop. So if you write (or have written) for us, you can now have a 7 Reasons Guest Writer badge simply by sending us a photograph of yourself. And we’ll send it back with your badge on it.

Not only will this help us achieve our goal of not running 7 Reasons at a loss one day, it’s also far more environmentally friendly than an actual, physical badge, which benefits the whole world. So the virtual badge is something worthy, it’s a force for good. It’s actually saving penguins.

A guest poster has already taken us up on our virtual badge offer (in fact, it’s what convinced him to write for us in the first place). Here is Sir Andrew Straussy jubilantly wearing his:

And here’s an owl wearing his (because one day, we hope to convince an owl to write for us (and the virtual badge is less cruel than an actual one)).

We also sent (to the lady herself) a picture of Jennifer Aniston wearing a badge and we received this in return.

So this probably means that marriage is still out of the question.

Anyway, the point of all of these badge-related-shenanigans is to mention that we’re currently looking for more guest posts. So, if you’ve never written for us, or if you have; if you have an idea, or even half an idea (because that’s how we work most of the time), then please get in touch.

We have always felt genuinely honoured and flattered that brilliant people, who write to such a high standard, have submitted pieces for us to use, and we hope that – one day – we will be able to reward their endeavours with something more tangible than our thanks, our admiration and our love (which, to be honest may put people off). Perhaps in the form of a badge, perhaps in the form of money, perhaps we will build a shrine, who knows? Anyway, however we decide to reward guest posters when we are dripping with the riches of Croseous, the fact remains that we aren’t right now, but we do feel genuinely humble – and honoured – that people read us regularly and that people allow us to use their work.

Anyway, if you fancy earning yourself some thanks, some publicity and a virtual badge then email [email protected]. We don’t promise to use everything that’s sent to us (because, well, we might not like it, and if we didn’t have standards, then we wouldn’t feel proud of our own website ). We will always consider it, however, and are happy to offer guidance or advice, where solicited.

Here’s a brief guide to writing a post for us. Thanks,

Marc and Jon.

December 5, 2010