Being a film, starring Steve Carell and Juliette Binoche.
Being funny and sad and affectionate and about a writer.
Being just as cute as a bug.
Being perfect for rainy Sundays or moments when only something good will do.
Tuesday, 9 April 2013
282. Barbour
At last count, I own four Barbour jackets, one bag and one cap. Big Barbour is your classic green waxy thing, with a green tartan lining. But I should note that it is Sage, not Olive. Then there is Little Barbour, which is a short, cool waxy thing. Sage again. Then there is Black Barbour, which is black SURPRISE and not waxy but cool and warm. Ha! And then there is the first Barbour I ever bought, with money my Granny gave me, which is Brown and currently in the safekeeping of my friend Matt and which doesn't have a name.
I have used the satchel almost every day since I bought it in 2007. It's just coming into its aesthetic prime and will last another decade, at least.
The cap might actually be Herself's. Oops.
My dad wore a Barbour. In the winter, he smelled of cold wool, Barbours and Gitanes. An unrecreatable admixture, as unique and weird and wonderful as the rest of him.
That's probably where my love for Barbour comes from. If it was good enough for my old man, it's good enough for me. A coat for every season, and a bag for every day. And that is what heritage brands are made of.
I have used the satchel almost every day since I bought it in 2007. It's just coming into its aesthetic prime and will last another decade, at least.
The cap might actually be Herself's. Oops.
My dad wore a Barbour. In the winter, he smelled of cold wool, Barbours and Gitanes. An unrecreatable admixture, as unique and weird and wonderful as the rest of him.
That's probably where my love for Barbour comes from. If it was good enough for my old man, it's good enough for me. A coat for every season, and a bag for every day. And that is what heritage brands are made of.
281. Coca-Cola
New or old, Classic or whatever, Coke is bloody delicious. But!
It must be very cold.
It must come from a can.
You must be hot
or tired
or hungover
or all three.
If you're drinking from a glass it must have ice.
It should have lemon, which helps temper the sweetness.
Do not!
Drink it with a straw.
Drink it warm.
Drink it completely flat. A bit flat is fine.
Swish it round your mouth.
Read the calories.
It must be very cold.
It must come from a can.
You must be hot
or tired
or hungover
or all three.
If you're drinking from a glass it must have ice.
It should have lemon, which helps temper the sweetness.
Do not!
Drink it with a straw.
Drink it warm.
Drink it completely flat. A bit flat is fine.
Swish it round your mouth.
Read the calories.
280. Philanthropy
Every year, the two co-owners of the company I work for give each of their employees £1,000, which we then give away to the charities of our choice. It's to their credit that they continue with this sweet and generous scheme, given that there are now 32 people working here...
Everybody who works here gives money to charity on a regular basis. Of course we do, we only have charities as clients and we're all a bit brown-ricey, so it's to be expected. But a grand is a nice wodge of cash - you can really do some good with that.
In a couple of hours, we'll all gather in a room to tell our colleagues how we spent the money and why we chose those particular charities. Here, for your benefit, dear readers, is how I spent mine:
I gave £200 to the Royal National Lifeboat Institution. I spend a lot of time by the sea, and a certain amount on or in it. I've called the Lifeboat myself a few times and stood with my heart in my throat until the familiar bright orange boat came streaking along the horizon. The sea is a remorseless, implacable force. It doesn't care about your pathetic puny human body, or your pathetic puny boat. Get tired swimming? Tough. Lose a rope or get smashed by a wave? Tough. Lose power? Tough. Here's some freezing, salty, rough water. Here's a riptide. Here's a huge expanse of nothing but certain death, and fathoms for you to fall.
In the UK, the people who'll do their best to rescue you from the sea are all volunteers. They don't get paid to come out in a storm, or in the middle of the night in the middle of a gale. But they will. Go to the RNLI website and watch some of the videos. Talk about bloody heroes.
I gave £300 to Magic Breakfast. They give children breakfast before school. If they didn't, these kids would sometimes go from lunchtime to lunchtime with nothing in their tummies. Try learning your times tables while you're starving. I had enough trouble and Mum gave us Ready Brek.
I gave £250 to the WRVS. They make sure that isolated and vulnerable older people get out of their houses and are looked after inside them. This one's for Granny, and I was proud to give the money in her name.
And I gave £250 to Action for Children, to support a young carers support group in South London. These kids look after sick or otherwise incapacitated family members. They give up their childhoods to look after the people who should be looking after them. Then very often they get bullied at school and on the streets. The support group gives them a respite, helps them catch up on school-work, gives them access to counsellors and other kids who are going through the same thing. They also get some self-defence lessons. Take that, bullies.
It was a pleasure and a privilege to play junior philanthropist - and I've set up direct debits for all those charities now, too. Every little helps, after all.
Everybody who works here gives money to charity on a regular basis. Of course we do, we only have charities as clients and we're all a bit brown-ricey, so it's to be expected. But a grand is a nice wodge of cash - you can really do some good with that.
In a couple of hours, we'll all gather in a room to tell our colleagues how we spent the money and why we chose those particular charities. Here, for your benefit, dear readers, is how I spent mine:
I gave £200 to the Royal National Lifeboat Institution. I spend a lot of time by the sea, and a certain amount on or in it. I've called the Lifeboat myself a few times and stood with my heart in my throat until the familiar bright orange boat came streaking along the horizon. The sea is a remorseless, implacable force. It doesn't care about your pathetic puny human body, or your pathetic puny boat. Get tired swimming? Tough. Lose a rope or get smashed by a wave? Tough. Lose power? Tough. Here's some freezing, salty, rough water. Here's a riptide. Here's a huge expanse of nothing but certain death, and fathoms for you to fall.
In the UK, the people who'll do their best to rescue you from the sea are all volunteers. They don't get paid to come out in a storm, or in the middle of the night in the middle of a gale. But they will. Go to the RNLI website and watch some of the videos. Talk about bloody heroes.
I gave £300 to Magic Breakfast. They give children breakfast before school. If they didn't, these kids would sometimes go from lunchtime to lunchtime with nothing in their tummies. Try learning your times tables while you're starving. I had enough trouble and Mum gave us Ready Brek.
I gave £250 to the WRVS. They make sure that isolated and vulnerable older people get out of their houses and are looked after inside them. This one's for Granny, and I was proud to give the money in her name.
And I gave £250 to Action for Children, to support a young carers support group in South London. These kids look after sick or otherwise incapacitated family members. They give up their childhoods to look after the people who should be looking after them. Then very often they get bullied at school and on the streets. The support group gives them a respite, helps them catch up on school-work, gives them access to counsellors and other kids who are going through the same thing. They also get some self-defence lessons. Take that, bullies.
It was a pleasure and a privilege to play junior philanthropist - and I've set up direct debits for all those charities now, too. Every little helps, after all.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)