A fair friar

Hark the hack

It amused me when a notice went out with one of those words that confused homophones with synonyms, ending up in a malapropism. Workmen had sown material that a seamstress might have sewn into fabric, causing safety issues.

That such mistakes seem to jump out of the seam of the misuse of words is something I cannot help; I see words in patterns, and if something does not fit, it is at once obvious. The workmen were not farmers; I should not be looking for seeds, whether they would have heeded this issue clearly enough not to mistake their screwdrivers for needles, is another matter.

However, this thought was sown in mock criticism of my kitchen acumen, where traditional cooking methods honed through observation and application found the ridicule of trendy experiences.

Cooked in preserve

The stove, with its reliability, an old steamer abandoned after it stopped working, a whisking hook lost in the exhaustion of kneading dough, or slow cookers aplenty abroad, the expansion of one's culinary repertoire had barely suffered the onslaught of modernity, and the food was still good to taste after all the striving.

Having pooh-poohed the advent of the air fryer, the needling that followed, compounded over days, led to relent. There was no compliment on offer without having gained another to complement the electrical goods.

Chopped in searing

We trundled round the front of the building, maybe quite a stretch for peace to reign and a box too large to bear even evoked visions of Africa; women with babies on their backs and basins on their heads, bare feet making steps on concrete or macadamised pavements, we found a convenience that could be out of place in Manchester, if you cared that much.

The operator took the flesh and bone and placed them in the apparatus. A few touches on the top, chops, time, and start, were for 15 minutes what sent the trusty oven to Coventry. Though, for roughage, it was the steamer in full regalia, a role no other could play better, we were once damned with praise, an acquisition that might be exercised in culinary achievement yet unrealised.

The fair friar indeed had successfully proselytised and won a convert, that her sacrifice, which felt like a punishment, was soon redeemed in the serving of a meal.

Thought Picnic: How we weep more than the bereaved

Managing the inputs

I have experienced bad dreams, some quite vivid, usually caused by medication I am on, but I also have a very active imagination. I can easily conjure up anything, which is why I control the kinds of input that enter my thoughts, especially what I see or watch.

For that reason, I do not watch horror films; childhood memories of terrifying events keep me guarded about the conversations that reach my ears.

When I was twelve and in secondary boarding school, one night I dreamt that something terrible had happened, and I believed that dream. I was inconsolably distressed most of the day until I received news that everything was fine and that the situation had been a creation of my mind and imagination.

Controlling your thoughts

The mother of a friend used to enquire about him, but her thoughts were filled with worries about something bad happening to him. Although he might be prone to mishaps, I gently advised her to change her thinking and to remove her anxiety by thinking good thoughts when they had not spoken for a while. I told her to surround him with positivity rather than dread.

A certain principle applies: if you have nothing good to say about something, then say nothing. Similarly, I suggest that if you have no good thoughts about something or someone, abandon the negative thoughts and seek better ones for your own peace and well-being. Your thoughts do not necessarily control the person you are thinking about.

How we manage the influence of premonitions, foreboding, and anxiety depends on how we train our minds. If I wake up thinking something bad has happened, I do not immediately accept that as my reality without evidence. I am more likely to comfort myself with the thought that all is well, or to pray for peace and calm amidst the uncertainty—this is better than being driven by every gust of fear and doubt.

A ship caught in a storm will likely founder if the captain and crew do not keep calm, and lives could be lost in the process. We are the captains of our minds, managing the storms of thoughts that pass through them. Yet, we sometimes give these thoughts life by voicing them or acting upon them.

Living with better thoughts

I understand that after a cancer diagnosis, some people might be worried and concerned about me. I cannot fully imagine how they felt, but I was at the centre of that situation. I had the cancer; they only had their imagination. Perhaps if their thoughts had been encouraging about better outcomes, I would have appreciated their positivity to help my situation.

You cannot live solely by the thoughts of others, especially in adversity; you need sources of upliftment that dispel the worst fears. I did not dwell on how cancer might kill; instead, I listened to messages about healing, health, living, thriving, and being strong. Out of over thirty hospital visits, only twice did I have a chaperone—because I needed to keep my thoughts positive.

If I, as the person most affected, can maintain hope, and there are many in worse situations who are not thinking the worst about their circumstances, why then are others we consider close to us full of fear, anxiety, and worry on our behalf? It makes no sense at all. There might be an inadequacy in their development of positivity and faith.

Listening carefully

The other day, after telling someone I had had cancer twice, instead of listening to what I said, he began to talk about herbal remedies and the supposed causes of cancer. A musician by profession is quite a leap from an oncologist. I was so irritated by his ignorance disguising itself as knowledge.

I know the effects of chemotherapy and radiotherapy; they can be deadly, and side effects are horrible, but we do not abandon cancer treatment. In most cases, we manage the side effects and ultimately recover.

After all this rambling, perhaps the best thing to say is: please, do not weep more than the bereaved, worry more than the affected, or be burdened more than the truly infirm. Carrying an imaginary burden heavier than the real one is a feat beyond belief.

When we manage our thoughts properly, what might be pity or sympathy often turns into empathy. We walk that long, hard mile in another's shoes, understanding them instead of making it about ourselves, our thoughts and emotions shifting focus away from them.

It is well.

Adopting a healthy work regime after illness

Managing oneself back to work

My return to work after extended sick leave, was not structured or phased, because I did not plunge straight back into the work activities before my leave. Considering I worked through my radiotherapy treatment and for a month afterwards, despite the fatigue and sometimes-overwhelming side effects, I put in the hours, the time, and the effort to meet my obligations.

However, there was a point when I needed more support beyond living alone at home, along with a proper rest period to really recover. This led me to undertake the long journey to Cape Town for the care Brian could provide that was beneficial for my recovery.

I eventually spoke with an occupational health professional, who suggested we adjust the work schedule on the parameters of volume, pace, and complexity. I was comfortable with handling complexity; I was ready for that challenge. However, managing volume and pace was something I had to learn through engagement.

Handling pressure before feeling overwhelmed

Implicit in this approach was a sense of pressure; the way urgencies, priorities, and dependencies demanded more from me to meet deadlines, often without the usual flexibility that would involve discussing the reasonableness with relevant stakeholders.

There was one occasion when an architect, discovering that a crucial piece of work—on which the entire deployment depended—had fallen through the cracks, suddenly created a lot of pressure on me, with the message that everything would pause if I didn't find a solution.

At that moment, I felt like a giant had stepped on my chest, making it hard to breathe. Recognising this reaction, I pushed back at once, saying that we would proceed methodically, and I would not shoulder the pressure caused by this oversight.

At that time, I informed my line manager, not seeking support, but making him aware that the whole issue could escalate because of my resistance to quick fixes.

This architect then committed a clear faux pas by suggesting he entertain my concerns because he didn't want me to cut corners. That was a stance I was never going to let slip. I don’t cut corners; I am a 37-year IT professional. No one at the conference dared intervene; the message was crystal clear.

Maintaining control on your own terms

With the space and time, I was able to find the right elements needed to resolve the problem, and we implemented a solution within 90 minutes. Exercising autonomy without letting pace be dictated by either my own failings or others’ is essential.

Despite modulating elements of my return to work, I find myself in the office for 9 to 12 hours, sometimes more. I tend to get absorbed in a situation, aiming to resolve, manage, or finish the task before I leave for home.

This occurs alongside lingering side effects such as urinary incontinence, bowel urgency, and nightly insomnia. The insomnia, I manage by sleeping as much as I can on weekends. Things are not perfect, but I am finding better ways to cope than before.

In terms of occupational health, I simply wanted awareness about side effects, fatigue, and hospital appointments. Beyond that, I believe I am meeting and surpassing my aims and goals, but I also need to be smart about it.

I've got everything left to achieve

Building for Life

Baron Foster of Thames Bank turned 90 on June 1st. He has left his mark on the architectural landscape of the world, collaborating with fellow architects and many designers. One cannot help but be in awe of how imagination on paper becomes the realisation you can behold.

In one of his iconic buildings, where I used to have lunch in the 1990s, the Willis Building in Ipswich, with black curtain walls contrasting with a yellow and green interior, went on to become the youngest Grade I listed building in the UK.

I remember visiting Berlin and observing how a Foster and Rogers project in that city seemed like you hire Norman Foster to transform a monument into a modern masterpiece, as he did with the Reichstag building, and Richard Rogers to create a monument by building a modern masterpiece, as he did with the Daimler complex.

Everything left to achieve

Architecture has always interested me, but that is not the primary focus of this blog. Interviewed for the Architects’ Journal in May, this last exchange—question and answer—offered an insightful perspective on the man himself.

Gino Spocchia: You’re about to turn 90, an achievement in its own right. As an architect, do you feel there is anything left for you to achieve?

Norman Foster: I've got everything left to achieve. That’s an impossible question. [Architects’ Journal: Norman Foster at 90: ‘I have everything left to achieve’]

My journey to this interview was influenced by listening to Richard Rogers on Desert Island Discs yesterday; he was interviewed in March 1990, and he spoke about his early partnership with Norman Foster, then winning the Pompidou Centre competition with Renzo Piano, and Su Rogers. [BBC Sounds: Desert Island Discs – Richard Rogers]

Propinquity to serendipity

In the 20 years I have visited Paris and sat for brunch on the first floor of Café Beaubourg that overlooks the space in front of the Pompidou Centre, I have only observed people and never entered the centre itself. Richard Rogers passed away at 88 in 2021.

I suppose one first considers the blessing and fortune of good health at such an age, to continue to have zest for life and a purposefulness that suggests you believe you still have much to do and give.

Thinking of continuing potential

For Norman Foster, advanced age is not an end; he embraces a philosophy of ongoing potential, rejecting the cultural narrative that achievement belongs primarily to youth. Meaningful accomplishment remains possible at any stage of life. Retirement is not a part of this man’s vocabulary.

For someone turning 90, this perspective embodies:

• A refusal to be defined solely by past accomplishments
• An understanding that wisdom and experience create unique opportunities
• A rejection of artificial timelines for meaningful contribution
• An embracing of new goals suited to current capabilities
• Finding purpose in mentorship, creative expression, or personal growth

I am deeply inspired by this mindset, as I contemplate returning to university to learn from and engage with youthful insights and young minds. I am convinced of the importance of lifelong learning and continuous engagement with a world of possibilities.

Norman Foster exemplifies this life-affirming stance beautifully; if we have consciousness, will, health, and resources, we retain the capacity for meaningful achievement. It is clear he enjoys what he does and will continue for as long as he can. Belated happy birthday, Norman Foster, Baron Foster of Thames Bank.

References

20^th Century Architecture: Norman Foster

20^th Century Architecture: Richard Rogers

The blessing of loving what you do

Why do you like your job?

Having heard from many others, I can only count myself blessed to enjoy what I do and my job. The responsibilities involved can be challenging and sometimes frustrating. Managerial levels, especially those in project management who impose demands for deliverables that lack any semblance of being feasible considering resources, time, and cost, are particularly difficult.

Clearly, one must be assertive enough in their area of expertise to offer a genuine perspective on what is achievable within the constraints provided. I recognised this blessing more profoundly when people asked me if I liked my job. It revealed more about how they felt about their own positions than about any genuine curiosity regarding my situation.

The fear of change

I hate to admit that it felt more like searching for kindred spirits in the shared misery of work life, which is quite sad. Fortunately, I found the courage to walk away from a job that had lost its enjoyment, excitement, and sense of progress. 

This situation often arises from how one is managed; if line managers view you as a human being, giving respect, courtesy, dignity, and trust, while also recognising your contributions, it can significantly affect your experience. 

Too often, we are constrained by the fear of leaving the comfort of the familiar for the uncertainties of the unknown. However, it has been in those moments that I have left the comfort of a stable job with a regular salary and no clear prospects for advancement or promotion, that I have stepped into more exciting and rewarding roles and opportunities.

Take that vital step

You must step out and away to step into something better. A brief discomfort might herald better things to come. Naturally, one must have faith in oneself and in the experiences acquired, which may be underappreciated where you currently are, but seen as invaluable elsewhere.

What you do not want is for the transient notion of job security to rob you of career autonomy and erode your ambition, leading to a loss of confidence in your marketability.

Many of us should explore better ways to market our skills in varied environments. A curriculum vitae needs enhancement to catch the eyes of recruiters beyond a mundane presentation.

Trust your capable self

When it ceases to be enjoyable, do not waste time hoping it will improve if the personnel, purpose, or project has not changed. Reinventing oneself can be an appealing and distinguishing factor in the job market; moreover, no knowledge or experience is ever truly wasted. This may necessitate a period of inactivity or a change of surroundings.

This is why I believe that, regardless of what you undertake, its value or impact may not be immediately apparent, but your own progress is something others elsewhere might appreciate.

Reassess your options; you have likely exhausted the potential for growth within your current engagement and need new fertile ground of people, projects, and purposes to write another wonderful chapter in your career and life.

Finally, you are the principal participant in the story of your life, do not let another make you a victim of your circumstances, think of number one and take care of number one first, learning to love yourself, it is the greatest love of all.

Shaped by a world of champions

We need champions

What I cannot deny is the need for champions in your life, people who see the potential and the best in you, long before you realise you could be anything. Even more so are the people who believe in you, who encourage you, give you the support to begin to believe in yourself, and offer the scarce opportunities of access and privilege to attain what might have at one time been totally impossible.

In my life, I have had many champions, out of all sorts of persuasions, the people who pulled you up when you were down and those who firm the foundations of the platforms on which you stand, you should also not forget those who do not want you to stand still resting on your laurels, they want to see you progress and they try to remove the obstacles that seem to pre-empt you.

Create your vision

The need for a vision for yourself that you can begin to think and to dream and to work towards realising is one of the biggest challenges an individual faces. How do you begin a journey to a destination you cannot even visualise yourself getting to? While an accident of good fortune might happen, we cannot live by accidents and make that a purpose for life.

Today, I remember one of the greatest champions of my life, Cash Soyinka, an uncle and relation on both side of my family who almost 40 years ago became my guardian and mentor. He led by example rather than by instruction. He took me into confidences while nurturing my voice of expression and sense of adventure in ways I could never have imagined, yet in such impactful ways.

Most of all, he allowed me the courage of my convictions, obviously, I had to convince him of why I was making a decision, even as he shepherded me with insight to be more rational than emotional. He passed on three years ago and he is sorely missed.

Take on the mantel

When another friend and mentor, John Coll, passed on at the end of 2013, I did wonder who would champion me in the issues of life. However, someone else suggested that the torch had been passed on to me to champion, mentor, and encourage others, in the same way that I have benefited from the counsel of those who came before.

Much as I strive to live up to this standard, I know I am hardly close to the standard of those who have stood up, stood for, and stood in for me. I will not relent, I hope to get better. My best friend of over 40 years is another who a few have indicated, I could never be impugned, like I could never do any wrong. I have many wrongs, but I am given allowances and forgiven easily for my failings, and I am grateful that none of my failings are used against me.

The partner champion

However, daily, it is Brian that champions me at every moment, the way I am loved so deeply and unconditionally, the way he believes in me, encourages me, and strengthens me even when I seem to lack the resolve. He sees possibilities with facility, even in the midst of limited resources and straitened circumstances, he is a believer.

I do not acknowledge this enough nor is as appreciated to the extent that it has been valuable. I do not exist in isolation; I am a product of the numerous investments of champions that have willed me on beyond where my sights and abilities could carry me. I am grateful for having had the tutelage of champions and the enduring support of those who uphold me daily.

Coronavirus streets in Manchester - LXXVII

Leaps of fleshly walks

It had rained earlier besides the fact that there was a forecast of further rain episodes in Manchester. I was dressed in anticipation of adverse weather, but when I stepped out this afternoon to replenish my supply of cranberry juice that eases urinary tract issues, there was much to see.

There are people still adorning facemasks, they seem to be visitors from the Far East, in my case, I know that the Coronavirus is still about, five years on, because I only recently got my biannual booster, bringing my COVID-19 jabs to ten, in all.

However, as summer is now upon us, you cannot help but notice two things, the lips and the legs. The former is seen in both males and females, lips filled like balloons with fillers or Botox, all so unnaturally like big-lipped fish, very much the giant grouper or the Napoleon wrasse look. [A-Z Animals: Fish with Big Lips]

Flesh is not quite fresh

This is one case where beauty is hardly in the eye of the beholder other than whoever wants this unsightly cosmetic procedure that distorts from the natural and presents the utterly bizarre. For this and the latter issue, much as you want to look away, you are forced to see the indescribable that speaks louder than farce.

The rising mercury allows for the revealing of more skin, from shorts that should only be worn for a burlesque performance in a dingy poorly lit nightclub, well away from our common streets, to body parts that are best kept under wraps.

Whatever makes these fashion trends attractive fails to persuade me of either the self-awareness or the sensibleness of the purveyors. Yet, one must live and let live. Each time I walk through Manchester, one must curb the need to comment after seeing the outrageous to the dastardly.

It is still a bustling city of contrasts, changed and changing by circumstances, residents, and visitors alike. We cannot forget that the pandemic also wreaked havoc on our idyllic existence.