Boomer-bashing has of course been in-vogue for over a decade now. Complaints of casual racism or homophobia; the unfairness of the housing-stock they hoovered up on 3x single-salary mortgages; final salary pensions that nobody under fifty will ever see the likes of again. And of course, Brexit was all their fault - the number one cause of cross-generational conflict, now followed closely by a new entrant: screen-time arguments.

And it turns out that they are as addicted to screens as the rest of us. Some more so.

I hear this frequently from Gen Z and Millennial friends moaning about retired parents’ phone habits, especially around grandchildren that we’re struggling so hard to wean off screens since the floodgates opened up on ‘harms’: Granny on Insta rather than on the floor with the Duplo; Grandad scrolling Facebook throughout Sunday lunch. And it’s not just the poor role modelling and lost memory-making that worry their children, it’s the diet of doom they’re consuming. Many now report how their parents’ politics have got more extreme, with their outlook growing more cynical by the day.

On the flip side, the benefits of tech (and large font-displays) to this generation are self-evident. With so many grandchildren now living at a distance, if not overseas, FaceTime means many can grow up actually knowing their grandparents rather than having to reacclimatise to a vaguely-familiar, gift-giver once or twice a year. Boggle or Lichess keep the brain active. Podcasts and audio books can accompany long drives; Trustpilot and Trip Advisor enable their favourite sport of leaving bad reviews; and the family WhatsApp group never sleeps: updates, photos, gifs and inappropriate jibes and jests. For a generation that’s become more isolated than any before, all this connection isn’t a nice-to-have. It’s the thing keeping many of them tethered to the rest of us.

(Yes, there is still the very real issue of digital exclusion for many elderly: inaccessible parking or NHS apps, impossible digital payments and impenetrable bot-chat customer service… but let’s be honest, these issues will correct themselves).

And the sofa-seated, index-finger-swiping, silver-surfer may well become the stereotype image for this generation vs. those of older gens: Worthers Originals, fluffy slippers, loo-roll holder dollies in avocado-ceramic toilet suites, carriage clocks or false teeth in a glass next to the bed.

It momentarily occurred to me to set up a PR-able, semi-parody ‘Smartphone Free Retirement’ Movement to mirror the ‘Smartphone Free Childhood’ movement. But of course, I’m not a bloody idiot. I don’t have the balls. Few would. This generation are far too belligerent to be told how to live, or what to do - certainly by the children they raised and whose children they now frequently provide childcare for. Fair enough, they’ve earned that right. Who are we to complain?

Plus as a GenX-er, it’s increasingly dawning on me how uncool-adjacent I am now. Straddling the pre and post digital eras with free-play childhoods in rose-tinted, tinsel-strewn memory, I delight in the memes commenting on how bullet-proof and resilient we are. The generation everyone else will hide behind when the apocalypse comes. However, I met a 19 year old rising-star podcaster recently and pitched him my book, the working title for which at that time was ‘The New Punk’.

I loved (and continue to love) this metaphor. I see a modern day parallel between the original punks of the 70s and 80s that were pushing back on the establishment with a potential modern day movement to resist conformity and oppression by the new power of the technopoly.

‘Hmmm’, he shrugged. ‘It sounds like a GenX-er ‘trying to sound cool to a GenZ-er’. Ouch.

But then last week I had a brainstorm with a business leader that recast this discomfort in the light of opportunity and got my cogs whirring: what if the story we told the next generation wasn’t “screens are bad,” (which nobody under twenty-five has ever once been persuaded by), but “scrolling is for old people“?

Doom-scrolling, four hours face-down in a feed, recast not as edgy or normal but as something your Gran does because she can’t leave the house. Uncool. A bit sad. The thing boomers do because retirement, isolation and a Facebook algorithm found each other.

We could even take this one step further and suggest that ‘posting is sooo Gen X…’ ie - something my generation and older Millennials do in a desperate attempt to look and seem relevant still. Again, ouch… but could it work?

Flip the status signal and you don’t need to lecture. IRL becomes the flex: the walk, the football, the actual pub with actual people in it. That’s the young person’s move now, and scrolling is what you do when you’re 74 and the grandkids have gone home.

I like this idea. It turns the whole fight from morality into status, and status is the only lever that’s ever worked on teenagers.

Book edits incoming.

And in the meantime, Mum and I will no doubt keep sharing late night reels of irritable toddlers, old men trying to remember how to skip, and middle aged women trying to get out of rolling waves whilst a friend giggle-records with glee. This quote indicative:

A study found that a woman’s attraction to a man’s face varies with her menstrual cycle. Ovulating women preferr rugged, masculine features, while menstrating or menopausal women are drawn to a man with duct tape over his mouth and a spear in his chest while he is on fire. Further studies are not expected.

Source unknown

I said ‘less scroll’, not no scroll.

Give it a whirl, scroll (non-ironically) around a few recent posts which will either a) grate or b) appeal. Feel free to unsubscribe if wry common-sense, irreverant observation or nuance isn’t for you]

Normally uttered by an American, ‘I could care less’ has the power to irritate me as much, if not more than the person queueing behind me rushing to the newly opened check-out or someone who says ‘haitch’ instead of ‘aich’. But then, I’m a pretty intolerant person thanks to my mother’s genes.

(See also: repetitive tapping, self-important people who talk too loudly in public, ‘100 per cent’ as the new ‘yes’ or - long-time readers know - ‘Be Kind’ emblazoned anywhere and instantly provoking the urge to trip up the next person I pass).

It makes no sense! What a Brit says is “I couldn’t care less”, with the negative absolutely critical to the apathetic meaning, despite the fact that Yanks use it in the same context.

But I had a bit of a revelation this week that these four words might actually represent the pinnacle of modern wisdom for a 2026 world of overwhelm, distraction and doom….

You could. And perhaps you should care less. I definitely could. Because what good can *our* worries realistically do about any national, let alone international doom scenario, other than bring us down, ruin our mood and in turn, probably those of the people we love?

I apologise for the delay since I last Antidotered. I’ll admit I’ve been flattered by the number of people who’ve noticed and nudged.

The Defence: in the last few months I’ve held over 200 ScrollAware meetings with leaders, innovators and experts to explore challenges and potential antidotes to the toxic excesses of attention economics; presented my findings at 2 board-meetings, in 10 business webinars and on 8 conference stages (including interviewing the CEO of Ofcom); I’ve appeared on 9 podcasts; been interviewed on Sky News twice; become a regular on LBC; been through the famous doors at 10 Downing Street twice and The House of Commons security lines 5x and written two bylined articles (links below). Many friends seem to think I’m solely responsible for the government’s recent social-media ban announcement. Bit of a stretch. (Our ScrollAware emphasis remains more population-wide than on kids-specifically)

… and all whilst shepherding a 12 year old through the first year of senior school, a 10 year old through the last of junior, a 9 year old through the 6th and 7th Harry Potters, a dog through multiple ear infections and a 49 year old through numerous padel-related muscle strains.

Perhaps most importantly, I *have* been writing. Just not here. I now have 60,000 (unedited, splurged) words down for the first draft of a book I’m hugely excited about (plus a few thousand more wasted on the cess-pit that Linkedin has become).

But therein lies The Prosecution:

As my brilliant talent-agent and writer agent continually gang up to remind me, “personal brand” is everything when you’ve got something to sell (as we hope to, some time next year🤞). And as much as that modern concept offends every personal philosophy, I have to get over it, bite the bullet and commit to ‘growing my platform’.

Make peace with the reality of needing to ‘use the machine’ to ‘reveal the machine’.

The unfortunate chicken-egg, technopoly-powered world we now inhabit means that every ‘creator’ (writer, artist, musician, inventor, performer, ‘thought leader’ (ick)) must now also be their own self-promoter and audience-builder. (Which totally sucks for the talented introvert). Just as record companies now only sign musicians with >six-figure followings, so publishers look to audience-size for book deals.

Check out non-fiction best-sellers in any week and you’ll see 3 or 4 perennials (legend authors with long-term sustained sales e.g. James Clear, Morgan Housel); 4 or 5 ‘personalities’’ (whose books come and go within a week post a flurry of sales to followers/ fans) and maybe 1 something-else/ something-new that cuts through on talent or word-of-mouth. Film is no different - primarily sequels, franchises or bestseller-adaptations with established fan-bases.

I get it. Commercial publishers are struggling as we all are to cut through the tsunami of noise and content. Plus it doesn’t help that rates of reading are falling off a cliff. [If it hasn’t hit your radar yet check out this alarming article in the Atlantic declaring the ‘End of Reading’. More people placed bets last year than read a book. Read it and weep].

As such, Substack needs to be my friend and more regular confidante on all the wheeling, whirring thoughts that occur around my chosen specialist subject. And I need to be more human than ever in a world where even Substack is deluged by AI slop.

I. Must. Grow. Audience.

Entwining these threads, I reflect that for much of the last few months I’ve cared too much. Too deeply. And often counter productively. I’ve tuned into so many dark trends that I’ve ended too many days feeling defeated and profoundly concerned for us all, as individuals, as parents, as failing societies. It’s made me grumpy around my family and impacted my productivity. And I don’t want to be that mum others avoid in case she start wanging on about the perils of sharenting and the growth of CSAM.

The algorithm is doing a fantastic job of locking me into the negative… weirdly, even about itself. I’ve been served up fake research by non-existent academics about how AI and scroll is fundamentally degrading population-wide IQ and focus. Whilst elements of this are undoubtedly true (and the subject of ongoing research), I don’t think a future editor will take kindly to me sourcing an Instagram reel. And I may be the last person on earth that has the time, intrigue or inclination to fact-check Instagram or Tiktok, where of course the vast majority of under 30s now source their politics and worldview.

I frequently have to remind myself how warped my own must be. A few weeks ago, I read a horrifying report about Nigerian gangs exhorting UK tween boys to send naked images in order to blackmail them and said to myself - ‘wow, awful, but fringe, surely? Doom sells. This can’t pose that great a risk’.

That exact scenario then played out the next week amongst my son’s peers with the police (fruitlessly) involved. G*ddamnit!

But this is why the blog - and the book - matter so much. It keeps me clear-eyed about the mission I’ve always been on: finding the ‘Antidoters’; the ‘Unfluencers’ helping us to reclaim our brains and agency; the ‘New Punks’ pushing back on the technopoly (ie - where power now lies, vs. the original punks who pushed back on the state). Can you tell I’m struggling with a book title?

But to care, knowledgeably, about this issue, means that for my own sanity, I have to dramatically reduce caring about almost everything else. And confusingly, even in this, the algorithm has found me.

Here’s the transcript of a reel by somoeone called @ keithpleasestop from Long Island, in shouty monologue with himself)

Does anybody else just not give a sh*t anymore? I’m just tapped out.

“Hey, did you hear? Someone tried to off the president” I don’t care.

“No, but the war in Iran”. Yeah, I don’t care. I really don’t give a sh*t,

“But the Strait of Hormuz?” Yeah, why do I know what that is? Aren’t you mad that you know what that is?! We shouldn’t know what that is. ‘Strait of Hourmz’ .. what is that, a yoga pose?!

I googled how long it takes to hard-boil an egg this morning. I’m not gonna stand here and pretend I know about global shipping choke points with you.

“But don’t you think it’s important to stay informed?” No! No, I don’t! Because ‘informed’ now means just knowing about fifty-seven different horrible things that are going on that you can’t do a goddamn thing about at all times.

“But you used to care about this stuff!” I did! I really did! I had my opinions, I read articles, I stayed up on things. Now, man, honestly, I’m just trying to find out why the remote is in the refrigerator. Alright?

I’m not built for this. You’re not built for this. We cannot actually care about all of this sh*t. It’s not possible.

“Well, what do you care about now?” The immediate well-being of my wife and kids. The way it’s supposed to be.

And… spoiler alert… there’s a whole chapter so far devoted to exactly this antidote. Less is more. Less is sanity. Perhaps sometimes, the most productive thing we can do is nothing. Stop ‘optimising’. Defend your right to boredom. To quiet. To serendipity. Spontaneity. Afternoon naps. To ponder-wanders. Chats with strangers. To taking a sh*t with our own thoughts once more (this one has tested very well). To peace-of-mind without a price-tag.

If these appeal, then so might the book that’s pouring out of me…

On re-reading what I’ve got so far, I’ve realised I might have inadvertently reinvented stoicism… merely regurgitating the bleedingly-obvious, much-cited wisdom of sages through the ages.

But it strikes me that there’s huge value in this when so many seem to have lost sight of them with ‘the machine’ constantly assaulting and warping our senses, time and perspective. And my ‘sources’ are deliberately diverse to reflect the way in which we all now hoover up insights and opinions, from high to low brow: poet, philosopher and statesman to comedian, podcaster, overheard-stranger or shouty influencer in a car. Intellectual snobbery be damned.

I’m a magpie and all I’m doing is just sorting, filtering and repackaging the best of it accessibly and wryly for a overwhelmed world, resurfacing the stuff we seem to have forgotten: positive voices and alternatives that offer a bit more hope, humour, perspective and scope for personal agency.

And of course there’s an in-built cliff-hanger inherent in the book. How effectively can I use the machine to reveal the machine? My/ the book’s failure will, in many ways, prove my hypothesis. It’s success… well, a glimmer of hope that the tide may be turning.

Sound like something you’d read? If so, help a girl out with growing this audience… And do any of those titles resonate? Got anything better? A page 7 dedication is up for grabs - and I’d rather someone reading this got it, than Claude.

With love,

Jess

*****

Some recent ScrollAware interviews and output, for reference:

Gabby Logan’s Mid-Point (Spotify, Apple) ‘What Next’ (Publicis: Spotify, Apple), France 24 Media . Sky News 1, SkyNews2, Rory Sutherland & Elf Samba’s ‘Bottleneck’ Podcast, Uncensored CMO, LBC, ‘The Lost Generation’ (youth-produced documentary. ‘Media Leader’ bylined article: The role of the advertiser in de-escalating the attention arms race; co-authored article in LBB: The Attention Economy’s Reckoning: Why Brands Can’t Afford To Stay Silent

*****

PS. ScrollAware is now taking bulk orders of the SmaartPocket from corporates/ employers looking to demonstate they care about their employees’ overwhelm and lives outside the workplace (last orders for Xmas by end of Aug). (Contact for more).

Also of course, serves as the perfect passive-aggressive gift for the phone-addicts in your life

Today’s dog-walk thought: I’m jealous of astronomers*. I think it’s their incredible ability to zoom out, seek to understand and even celebrate quite how insignificant we all are.

Sometimes I wonder whether the discipline is more rooted in science or philosophy as it seems to embrace both. Time. Meaning. Context.

(*not ‘astrologers’.. I’ve mixed them up before, to my shame)

Just take a moment to enjoy this interview with Brian Cox talking us through his favourite celestial image and how it makes him feel. His enthusiasm is infectious.

‘What does it mean to live a finite fragile life in an infinite, eternal universe?’

Astronauts are frequently overwhelmed when looking down at the whole earth. One world. The sheer irrelevancy of petty squabbles, money-matters, cancel-culture, the next budget or whatever it is we’re each individually mired as one of the ants moving about our days on its surface for a fraction of a moment. Gone the next.

Given the brevity of our life on earth, such a dramatic zoom-out could induce terror. What’s the point in striving for anything when 99.999% of us will forgotten within 100 years, even from the memories of our descendants. Arriving with nothing. Leaving with nothing. No statues or great works to memoralise our existence; our status or achievements forgotten; our much strived-for possessions landfill-dust. But for people like Cox, it inspires awe. To them, it makes this short time we have on earth more special.

What else acheives this? What else allows us to zoom out to such an extent that we can truly find perspective on the busy lives that we lead.

Grief, of course provides the greatest as a terrible reminder of the fragility of life. The study of history, another: appreciating the patterns and echoes that roll through societies and human behaviour through the ages. Great literature, transporting the reader into another’s brain or another era. Standing atop of a mountain, heart pounding, admiring a view that has remained largely unchanged for millennia. What else? It strikes me that the disciplines that provide an enforced zoom out, are in rapid decline.

And how many of us these days, ever work on anything that will not be completed before we shuffle off the planet? Something that isn’t designed to immediately line someone else’s pocket? A someone that’s also not likely to be remembered for long- (albeit, side note - Hitler apparently did only have one ball).

Cathedrals across Europe are testament to the power of zooming out. Structures that tens of thousands of nameless people worked their whole lives to build yet would never see the end result of. That induce awe when we stand in their shadows.

There’s a narcissism and short-termism in our modern culture. We’re all just too distracted in the now to zoom out. Not only that, but we willfully close our eyes and ears to the longer-term ramifications of what we’re engaged in.

On a personal, professional-mission level, as many know… I’m hugely frustrated by the short-term incentives of the attention economy. By countless meetings where I’ve become personal therapist to individuals who as ‘humans’ recognise the huge negative impact of what we’re engaged in and the lobotomising impact of it, confessing all their personal weaknesses and fears to me - even thanking me for my ‘service’- but in the next breath, as ‘professionals’ shaking their heads sadly, feeling powerless to do anything about it. How have we got to a stage where so many are too scared or reluctant to jump the chasm, rock the boat or and risk the wrath of big-tech, bosses or investors? We can bury our heads in the sand, but we are complicit. And the more we accept it, the more serf-like we become. To who? Not governments, as predicted by the great dystopians - Orwell, Bradbury and more - but by a handful of tech billionaires and the vested interests of the money that pulls their incentive-strings (so, maybe it is governments too?).

Ugh. That’s a bit heavy for a Friday birthday. I’m coming over all cynical conspiracy-theorist.

Shush now. Can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. There’s money to be made. Sod the consequences. Exacerbate the overwhelm. Let’s keep speeding up these short lives we’re gifted.

Because that’s exactly what we’ve done. Our perception warps and life seems 8 to 10% shorter than it ever did because our brains are so full of crap and detritus. It’s called ‘information velocity’ with the average person now consuming more data in a week than their grandparents did in a year. Each notification triggers a micro-adrenalin spike, speeding up our neural clocks. Too many events and minutes collapse. It’s why we struggle to remember what happened last week vs. the week before and why suddenly, it’s the weekend again.

Ancient mystics described enlightenment as slowed perception. Modern chaos does the opposite: compressing awareness until we live only in reaction. We kind of know this, which is how we’ve got to the ridiculous situation where we’ve had to rebrand peace and quiet, ‘mindfulness’. A marketable-product rather than a natural state-of-being.

We may be materially richer than humanity has ever been, but we now live in an age of time-poverty.

If you’re not brave enough to shake things up professionally, at least do so on a personal level… resist the busyness occasionally and demonetise your eyeballs by removing them. Ironically, by doing ‘nothing’ you do something. Put your own oxygen mask on and then prioritise a child’s. Then maybe spread the word.

Ho hum. I’m going to post this now so that I can enjoy a little flurry of whatsapp birthday wishes. Ooh - birthdays! - they induce perspective.

I’m in the weird ‘mid years’. Too young and hot surely to be middle-aged (when even is that?) but my social life is a weird hotch-potch of christenings, second weddings, 40ths, 50ths and even 60ths and sadly, an increasing number of funerals. Whatsapp chats go from breast-feeding advice to perimenopause; congratulations on births to condolences/ prayers on terminal diagnoses. I communicate regularly with friends whose birth dates sit six decades apart… 24- 84.

I recently attended a university reunion where I studied the late-40s faces and receding hairlines of the 18 year olds I once fancied, I counted the number of divorces and the growing rank of orphan, learned about career pivots forged from crisis and grieved the empty chairs. Memories surged of drinking in sunny courtyards, dancing on bar tables, lugging books up spiral staircases, late night kebabs and sex in single beds (not together).

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The most striking revelation of how dramatically different an experience aging can be comes from my recent close proximity to two men - both born in 1946 - yet living such antithetical lives that it boggles the mind.

There’s Brian* (*not his real name) the house-bound gentleman I visit weekly as part of a local volunteering scheme and there’s Herb (yes, his name) - my American second cousin.

Brian is in a bad way. He’s left his home twice in the last two years - both times for medical appointments. He’s frail and talks incessantly about his ailments, the bins, the council circulars he lays out on the table before I arrive, the batteries going in the remote control and the stray local cat that seems to have adopted him.

In the 6-7 months I’ve visited he’s rarely asked a single question about my life, which I had naively thought he might be interested in, but long-since realised is not the point of my visits. He wants… he needs… to hear his own voice.

My visit might be the only thing in the week that makes him feel human and a tiny part of a world he only ever now sees on television. Despite our 95:5 talking ratio, he calls me ‘darling’ and ‘the love of his life’.

We moved his bed downstairs last month. He’ll likely never sleep upstairs again. He washes with wet-wipes as can no longer use his bathroom. He rudely rants and rails at the doctor’s receptionist, the neighbour who won’t return the washing she’s done for him during a downpour; the step-daughter who brings him his cigarettes and ready meals before rushing back to one of her two jobs or to look after her six grand-children. He panics and frets constantly, on bad days talking tearfully about not wanting to be here anymore.

He’s desperately lonely with absolutely nothing to look forward to. I’ve offered lunch outings with each suggestion greeted enthusiastically until the day dawns and there’s a call ‘I don’t feel great’, ‘my foot has got worse’, ‘not this week, Darling’. I’m doing what I can, and am in regular contact with his family (who are doing everything they can amidst their own busy lives), but ultimately, he’s been forgotten and discarded by the ‘system’ and the modern world. His world has contracted down to two family members, me and a scraggy black cat.

His life feels pointless and painful and he’s no longer capable of lifting his state of mind. It hurts my heart.

Now let’s contrast this tragic, depressing existence with Herb.

I received this from him this week, which, with his permission, I’m sharing in full:

This afternoon I operated one of the most expensive conveyances (per mile) in North America - a Costco shopping cart. I’m not complaining. Costco is a guy’s shopping paradise. Note that guys will only shop (or cook) if it’s a bit dangerous. Barbecues are risky with open flames and propane, so guys will step forward brandishing a spatula, much like a knight with a mace. An apron and a sleeveless t-shirt is the chef’s uniform. Pittsburgh Steelers logo.

What makes Costco dangerous is that sometimes men will go in there with a credit card, completely unsupervised. Household life savings hang in the balance and a retirement living under a highway overpass is a real possibility (Samsung box). Many local governments have a hotline for wives to call for intervention.

That’s where I was, ready for my appointment at the hearing aid center. Before that appointment, I had an hour to kill, so what better diversion than a spin up and down every aisle of the wonderful place, filled with things no one, meaning any guy, can be without. Yes, I have reading glasses on every surface of the house, but three more for only $15 is an offer not easily refused.

The bakery section is populated by widebody humans with no need to be there, but the pies beg, cajole, and plead to be liberated from their niche into your home. Happily, it’s very close to the wine section. Need I say more?

You may wonder why I posit myself as an authority on Costco. I’m amply qualified. For several decades I was a saloon trombonist, playing in beer halls throughout the country. As such, I was a consumer. Yes, mostly beer, but I also purchased goods and services throughout a long lifetime (143 years). I hope this explanation silences any qualm you may have had about my expertise.

There is one item that’s almost obligatory to buy. It’s rotisserie chicken. This is such a staple that every state with a Costco (67 to date) has made it a law to purchase one.

Having made several shrewd investments for the continued happiness of my household, it was time for my hearing exam. I was first asked to fill out a questionnaire on 47 sheets of paper. A sampling of the questions were:

1) Have you been to Mississippi in the past six months?

2) If yes, please explain why (use back of paper if you need more space to write)

3) What’s the fastest land animal?

I was now ready for the exam. I was ushered into a cubicle and asked to remove all my clothing. NO. that’s not true. Just my diving helmet.

I was asked if I had any pre-existing conditions. I explained that I had these ears on the side of my head that weren’t working well. She nodded knowingly.

After having pieces of plastic thrust into those ears, I was given a button and told to press it when I heard beeps. I simply kept the button depressed the entire time. I know how to play their silly games.

The test asked me to repeat the words I heard. That was quite simple. Glorm, thwab, plork, and slunt were easily recognizable.

After we were done, she showed me a chart with a line showing normal hearing, and a bunch of marks much closer to the bottom of the page. That was me.

I’ve had this test at other places and after the clearly demonstrated need for remedy, I was informed that hearing aids cost just slightly more than a private Lear jet. The Costco price, including the exam, was much more affordable. I love Costco. Especially the reading glasses.

There was one final obligation. Before they would release me, I had to buy the hot dog and soda. This is a hidden cost of coming here, and I’ll warn you that it’ll set you back $37 - no, wait, that’s the cost at a major league baseball stadium. At Costco, it’s $1.50.

Everyone at home was pleased with the LED lighted vanity mirror with the hand towel warmer base. With USB-c port.

God, I love my Uncle Herb. Antidoter personified. Optimistic, curious, fit (albeit deaf as a door post), well-read - increasingly so as he embraces his retirement- travelling the world and sharing his wonderful observations, book recommendations and articles with me. (He doesn’t like the new ‘More Soul Society’ missives I’ve launched as part of my new professional journey but as I keep telling him, he’s the opposite of target audience. His whole life philosophy is ‘more soul’).

The juxtaposition is shocking. With the number of ‘Brians’ growing rapidly.

What’s going on? How have these two men’s lives, born only weeks apart, landed in such different places?

Education, class and upbringing of course. Affluence and means. Health. Grief and isolation vs. a happy, healthy marriage amidst a thriving local community. And attitude of course… although in and of itself, hugely impacted by all the previous conditions.

We desparately need to invigorate our communities.

The Shawshank quote comes to mind:

Get busy living, or get busy dying.

Thanks, as ever for reading. Please do share if this sparks your imagination (and I haven’t depressed you too much with this one). Jess x

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I’ve been hustling, business-developing, Zoom-ing, moutain walking; web-designing, product-testing, conference-speaking, making 100s of packed-lunches; business-planning, ad-testing, trade-marking, veruca-treating; podcast-appearing, pitching, AI-training, picking up socks; you get the idea…

As a result ScrollAware is gathering exciting momentum and appears to have hit a serious nerve, with *big* brands and 🤞some high profile ambassador conversations in play. But my own nerves are frazzled. So much for a slow Summer.

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I’ve felt like a priest at times, unwittingly eliciting countless confessions around bad habits and screen time fears. It can be depressing - horror stories abound - but it’s all validation that something’s gone seriously wrong and that we need more reminders to stop, pause and smell the roses.

In moments of overwhelm, it can feel futile and like pushing water uphill. Am I staking my reputation and using up all my network’s goodwill on trying to push against the gravity of global-trends and cultural change? Is this a business, or is it a ‘movement’? Can it be both? There are certainly enough awesome antidote products, and services to support more intentional living - the returns from which could fuel the movement - but equally, I’m increasingly realising that much of this is simply a life philosophy to focus on how much of the good stuff in life is actually free.

I feel like I’m trying to package and market an amalgam of personal philosophy (as revealed here) and old-world wisdom into something suitable for this age of overwhelm. To turn the clock back in many ways, but leveraging the modern tools of promotion that I find so icky: personal brand and the cult of celebrity, the primacy of social content and data optimisation, with the intensifying earthquake of AI-opportunity/ threat rumbling underfoot.

The ‘More Soul Society’ has launched this week in response. It seeks to offer the simple reminders that I need in order to to practice what I preach, packaged into a short, weekly, free missive. A ‘slowletter’ if you will, rather than a newsletter. It’s the start of the audience-building side of the movement to create a home for all the More-Soulers whose confessions I’m privy to.

Fancy it? Yes, it’s another substack… but a shorter, pithier one. Fewer elipses, semi-colons and rambling-Jess. And one that might trigger a mass ‘unsubscribe’ to so much other superfluous noise and out of which a movement could emerge to shift the pendulum back a little. It’s certainly a ‘could’ worth aiming for.

More mature Antidoters may find some of the contents obvious or trite (Hi Mum), but trust me when I say that much of this stuff will be depressingly new to many under 30s and/or partially forgotten by the generation above them. The prospect of sitting on a bench for 5 minutes to people-watch, sending a physical postcard or going out of your way to give a stranger a compliment can be hugely novel, unnerving concepts. Idleness, reverie, pondering and boredom are close to extinct states of being.

So I’m keeping this as short as I can(‘t!) as I’d rather you checked the below out than spent more valuable minutes reading this.

(And Antidoters will continue in the same vein, as freewheeling as ever. As and when I have some spleen to vent).

Please subscribe and share.

PS- I was tempted to auto-subscribe you all as the sales-funnel gurus would advocate - but I figured that would be counter to the philosophy. This has to be opted-in to by those that feel this and find it a breath of fresh air in over-optimised lives.

But bribery’s ok, right? I’ll send a handwritten postcard to anyone that gets 10 Soul Society sign-ups. A Smaart Pocket if you can get 50…

The More Soul Society

The only free subscription that makes you life less digital via weekly field notes for living fully, offline. Less a 'newsletter' than a 'slowletter' plus a community dedicated to kickstarting the *Less Scroll, More Soul* movement.

By Jess Butcher

Let’s start with a thought experiment: a short utopia in an age of dystopia.

Subscribe now

It’s 2035, and the Analogue Renaissance is thriving.

It all began in 2025, when a people-powered #LessScrollMoreSoul movement took hold. The message appeared everywhere as a reminder of what society was losing in our 3 hours+ of daily scroll and what we had to gain from reclaiming some of it back. GenZ led the ‘digital defiance’ charge as frustration grew around childhoods they realised they’d lost, but it quickly spread as all woke up to the fact that we are what we pay attention to and that our time was ours to optimise, not others’ to mine and sell.

A craze kicked off to visibly carry and use phone sleeping bags to signify disconnection and presence to ourselves and those around - our kids, friends, colleagues. Phone cloakrooms are now common at social gatherings with ‘no-phone zone’ signage in most public spaces. It is now frowned upon for phones to be out in social settings.

Selfies, once hailed as a form of self-expression are now viewed as narcissistic and deeply uncool. Amateur public filming stopped, accelerated from 2031 by the risk of prosecution for sharing images without consent. Posting children on social media stopped altogether by 2030 after a number of AI-image manipulation abuse cases captured the media’s attention.

Public spaces began to be designed more thoughtfully to invite connection: benches facing each other, communal talk tables, free chess boards and community walls for public expression and local event promotion. Dating app use declined, ‘single zones’ and public connection walls replaced them. Eye contact came back into fashion and analogue is cool again - vinyl, paper-planners, alarm clocks, disposable cameras, game nights. Bookshops are “digital detox zones” with cafés, events and open-mic nights.

The previously diminishing concept of local, in-person community has crept back. Corporate CSR budgets increasingly back local initiatives - grassroots sports, youth clubs, events and community facilities. ‘Digital Sabbaticals' for young adults became common-place with 3 to 6 months spent off-grid, and the unplugged travel sector now booms.

As evidence for the efficacy of ‘free’ antidotes grew, ‘Disconnection prescriptions’ became mainstream in mental healthcare; ‘Helicopter’ parenting continues to give way to ‘cavalier parenting.’ Kids fall. They get back up. Chores are back in vogue along with teen jobs. Band-aid sales have gone up, inversely correlated with the decline of antidepressants.

In education, whilst tech and AI remain critical subjects in this tech-enabled world, their use in other disciplines has decreased with schools reviving slow learning: books, pens, gardening and map-reading. ‘Life lessons’ include media-literacy, financial management, “how to hold a real conversation” and “how to manage conflict” . Offline competence matters again and the humanities have received a new emphasis and boost as the ‘soul’ subjects that distinguish us from AI.

As global governments woke up to the shifting public sentiment, 35 countries (so far) have enforced age-restrictions on social media. The Advertiser Revolt of 2027 effectively forced the social business models away from outrage and insecurity-fuelling toward quality-first content. Paid tiers were introduced for those who wanted to reinstate friend-only feeds or editing-control over 3rd party content.

The ‘Digital Balance’ sector is booming and IRL (in-real-life) is big business once again.

Naive? Perhaps. But a huge cultural shift is coming… you feel it as so do most people. And many elements of this utopia, especially the shifts in social norms and perception, I now consider my professional mission…

• a quest to reclaim technology as an enabler for our real lives as opposed to a destination where we spend most of them.

And deeper than that:

• To remind people in a dopamine-driven, hack-obsessed, over-consumption world that happiness and pleasure are not the same thing, indeed they conflict.

• To promote the age-old wisdom that happiness comes from embracing people, place and perspective (or ‘soul’ time): time in nature, sport, community, the arts, creativity, skills-building and collaboration.

The phone is not really the problem

The smartphone is awesome. A truly magical wand in our pockets that can enable soul time: inspiration, logistics management, event-booking, education and community-building. It’s much more specifically infinite scroll and the attention (addiction) economy that is causing most of the problems.

It’s the ‘free’ business model of doom-scrolling (along with its sophisticated algorithms that sate our worst human instincts) that is lobotomising society. An industry that’s literally mining us of 720 billion minutes per day (143 mins/ user/ day), 260 trillion minutes or 500 million years of collective human time annually (source). The average 18 year old is currently on course to spend 93% of their free time for the rest of their lives in scroll (source).

And it’s not just the time-opportunity cost, but the damage done to our powers of concentration - especially pernicious to young brains still wiring-up - but a problem for all who now exist in a distracted state of multitasking overwhelm with the weight of global problems on our shoulders.

Maybe you have more self-control - well done - but if you’re not worried about these stats for civilisation’s sake, read them again.

And I’m not saying I don’t deeply care about specific ‘harms’: the proven links to child anxiety, extremism, polarisation or dis-information- entrenching insecurities and tribal instincts. But I see these as downstream from the issues of time and focus and shifting adult perceptions as the key to unlocking action.

In recent years we’ve seen the total extinction of boredom. Children never experience it despite the evidence of its critical importance for creativity, agency and resilience-building. The average child now spends less time outdoors than a high security inmate (source). And how often do any of us adults sit with our thoughts, processing or making sense of our experiences, chewing on curiosity rather than tapping it into Google or ChatGPT? We don’t, not even on the can.

For as long as our attention is manipulated, we are not in full control of our own lives. If we’re not careful, the next great social divide will be between those who know how to harness it and go ‘deep’ and those who don’t (likely, as with all disparities, to fall along socio-economic lines). The former will rule the latter (as China appreciates).

But enough with the gloom. The tides are shifting.

Introducing Scroll Aware…

…with constructive optimism at its core.

Scroll Aware is a new social enterprise to tackle tech addiction and a collective-action movement to reclaim time, attention and soul in a screen-saturated world. A national (international?) #LessScrollMoreSoul consumer ‘health’ campaign will kick it off soon with many high profile partnerships in place or in discussion.

Whilst the zeitgeist is shifting (see the recent Deloitte survey where 53% of GenZ favour a ban on social media for U16s), many initiatives are discounted as doom-mongering (even if truth-telling) and/or luddite. As such, Scroll Aware has a fabulous opportunity to shape a positive conversation with measurable targets for behavioural change that invert the scroll:soul ratio.

Scroll Aware is a non-partisan social enterprise. It’s a positive, antidote-based take on the challenge and less anti-tech or anti-phone as pro-people, pro-place, and pro-perspective. 'Less Scroll' is the push - shining light on the addiction economy incentives and imploring brakes and boundaries, with 'More Soul' the pull - reminding people to act on the age-old, life-affirming benefits of offline living and in-person time; re-emphasising the benefits of nature, sport, community, art and more.

Scroll Aware is a coalition of businesses, influential ambassadors and not-for-profits united under a ‘Less Scroll, More Soul’ banner and committed to cross-pollinating the best of each others’ work.

Together, we want to give people the inspiration and courage to log off, look up, and live more intentionally.

What you can do:

Professionally…

• Please share this mission with any consumer brands, charities or organisations in your network who are in the business of ‘less scroll’ (digital balance) or ‘more soul’ ie. promoting sport, leisure, nature, hospitality, toys, events or community. Forward them this blog and/or our champions summary.

• Get your own organisation involved (share with leadership, marketing, CSR and HR teams).

• In September, we’re hosting a London Summit of ‘champions’ and partners who believe in this mission to shape and launch the collective action manifesto.

Personally…

• Share share share. Share this. Share the website. Please share your thoughts on your social channels and reach out to anyone in your network who might be able to help us amplify this message.

• Pledge to more intentional living. It’s free. We’re building a waitlist right now to whom we'’ll be sharing updates and short nuggets of motivation, inspiration and recommendations for more intentional living.

• Get a ‘Smaart Pocket’: The gift of time. A sleeping bag for your phone to visibly signal your intentionality, when with friends, children, colleagues or to yourself when you feel the need for focus or relaxation (with % of proceeds to Scroll Aware. UK delivery only for now). In fact, ask your organisation/ employer to buy them for all their staff or for client-gifting…

• Try our free ‘smartphone habit audit’ for a personalised report on your habits, or download free phone screensavers for personal use or venue-signage for your workplace or hospitality venue.

• Know anyone famous? Send them my way…. we’re actively seeking high profile patrons and ambassadors who want to be part of building a legacy project.

• Join me. Both volunteers and future hires are so welcome to reach out.

I’ll close with a huge ‘thank you’ to all those who have supported and advised me on this so far, given me their time and opened up their contact books. Heroes, the lot of you. And I’m delighted to welcome everyone else to the Less Scroll, More Soul people-powered movement.

Join us. And let’s go.

www.scrollaware.com

It struck me as I walked out of security last month at the departures terminal and into the walkway that snakes through duty free. Every sense was immediately assaulted. Glossy images of A-listers, neon lights, huge point-of-sale booze-deals and an overwhelming scent of perfume. Three children tugged me in the directions of giant M&Ms, tech accessories and overpriced body-sprays respectively, whilst my own eyes were involuntarily drawn to the rows of sunglasses and Swatch watches I don’t need, (but feel a nostalgic 80s love for). It took every ounce of willpower to stay in-lane, snaking my carry-on through whilst shaking my head sternly ‘absolutely not’. I felt a bit nauseous.

It struck me at that moment how gross and exploitative this omnipresent consumerism has become. Stuff, stuff and more stuff. Stuff to make us prettier, less-inhibited, more organised, more noticed, more… more. Happiness in the form of retail therapy and the dopamine of a shiny new thing. We’re all susceptible. Brands wouldn’t exist if we weren’t, but how happy does any of this really make us?

My husband and I often play the Marie Kondo game. What ‘stuff’ do we own that actually ‘brings us joy’? The answers are odd and have zero correlation to price: his (ugly) gilet; my thermos coffee cup (to which i’m surgically attached prior to 11am); our ceiling-projecting bedside clock; my mud-boots for dog-walking; our dry robes for saturday-soccer; my thrice-yearly photo books; the Eastpak rucksack I picked up at the village-fete for 50p that is now my handbag; our crocs (oh, spare me your judgement)... and er..? It’s a pathetically small list when I think of all the money we spend on crap. Crap that ends up causing a huge amount of stress in a house of three children as it’s never bloody returned where it’s supposed to go.

Another exercise: ask a kid what they got for past Christmases (even the last one!) and depressingly, they rarely remember. They recall what they did around that time, who visited, any festive outings and which games were played, but rarely the gifts themselves, despite the huge expense, time, worry (and midnight assembly hours) ‘Santa’ invested in them. The most played-with toys are *never* the ones you expect.

I’ve spent the best part of my career in the world of brands: building tech to harness attention; selling loyalty schemes and honing marketing messaging. I enjoy brand-building and message-massaging around the behavioural science of what people need or think they need. And I’ve believed in the value delivered by the brands I’ve worked on. Through choosing them as consumers we make a statement about who we are. They can be aspirational and provide identity, status, comfort or convenience. Branding is the way to make our (uniquely brilliant, obviously) product stand out in a crowded marketplace. And it’s no coincidence that many of the biggest social movements of the last few decades… Pride, Extinction Rebellion, BLM, LiveAid etc have succeeded by harnessing the branding playbook… logos and merch included.

Purchases do produce ‘highs’.. but they’re short-lived, so desire for them is now insatiable.

These thoughts have intersected with the work I’m doing at the moment on antidotes to tech addiction. I have a few exciting product ideas of my own (on which, more to follow) and (with thanks to Jonathan Haidt’s team), have been chatting to a number of talented, energising entrepreneurs working on solutions. Given the growing demand for solutions, I suspect some of these products and services may end up being very lucrative indeed.

But actually, the best solutions to this issue are free… education, willpower, socialising, reading, walks, nature, more pondering, community engagement etc. But therein lies the problem…. as if they’re free, it’s no one’s real incentive to market them well and make them seem ‘cool’ or aspirational. No VCs to back the social-media marketing campaign or SEO. Feeling sad or overwhelmed? Here’s a premium app subscription to master the act of mindfulness. Much cooler than 10 minutes of watching clouds drift across the sky or half an hour spent on an old puzzle from the back of the cupboard- despite them having a very similar effect.

Maybe, where lifestyle brands are concerned, paying for something provides a placebo effect in itself though? Maybe if you pay, you’re more committed to change. This psychology certainly works for me where my gym membership is concerned.

Anyway, the other event that prompted me to flirt further with my growing anti-capitalist inclination was opportunistically reaching out to the hero-author of a book I loved recently and landing a lunch with him.

Tom Hodgkinson wrote ‘The Idle Parent’ and has, for the last 20 years been running ‘The Idler’- a wonderful counter-cultural publication dedicated to ‘slow living’ and our lunch was fabulous. It was like meeting another version of myself in a parallel world, someone who’s spent most of his professional life promoting free life-additives through a lens I feel like I'm only just rediscovering.

As readers will know from my ‘what I can’t see I can’t overparent’ post, I was immediately inclined to his book from its title and it did not disappoint. In turn, laugh-out-loud funny and ridiculously annoying, as I wished I’d written it. In essence, a tract on why parenting less is good for both parent and child. Why a slower, less ‘proactive’ family life is a more fulfilling, richer life. Why possessions - especially plastic ones - are less important than experiences. Why you should never take your child to a theme park and how the best family days are the ones where parents drink together in a tent on one side of a field and the kids run feral on the other. I’m in.

I highly recommend that everyone sign up to his newsletter for the opportunity to receive a free download of ‘The Idler’s Manual’ - a quick-read charter for life that is a funny, poignant reminder of so many of the ‘boring’, unmarketed things that make life worth living: messing around on water; wondering a city aimlessly, riding a bike for fun, staring at walls, afternoon naps, playing old games and lolling by a fire - to name just a few examples. The Idler mag itself is gorgeous escapism, full of brief journeys into the fascinating worlds of philophers, historians, art and ukelele playing… worlds that few on the ‘productivity’ treadmill ever make time for.

It’s annoying when people articulate your thoughts better than you can, but herewith, the Idler Manifesto:

The religion of industry has turned human beings into robots. The imposition of work-discipline on free-wheeling dreamers enslaves us all. Joy and wisdom has been replaced by work and worry. We must defend our right to be lazy. It is in our idleness that we become who we are. It is when lazy that we achieve self-mastery. Jobs rob our time. Productivity and progress have led to anxiety and unease. Technology imprisons as it promises to liberate. Careers are phatasms. Money is mind forg’d. We can create our own paradise. Nothing must be done. With freedom comes responsibility. Stay in bed. Be good to yourself. Inaction is the wellspring of creation. Art, people, life. Bread, bacon, beer. Live first, work later. Time is not money. Stop spending. Quit your job. Study the art of living. Live slow, die old. Embrace nothing. Know nothing. Do nothing. Be idle.

What a breath of fresh air.

Am I in danger of dying my hair blue?

He pulls no punches, debatewise, has a penchant for spraying robust opinions on radio phone-ins and along with our better halves, we frequently put the world to rights over drinks. Indeed the name of our 4-way whatsapp group remains ‘Nelson’ after our gammon fury some years back at the changing of a school house name from ‘Nelson’ to ‘Attenborough’ (ick). The subject of community-decline has been a recurrent theme in our conversations but whilst lots of people talk the talk, few walk that talk. Adam does… and for miles, as his post outlines.

Whilst a high-achieving C-level/ board player in global corporations, he is also a fierce family and community man with solid priorities. If I have any criticism of what follows it’s that he greatly understates the gargantuan task he undertook in rescuing his local village pub. He was a man on a mission to which he gave everything, including calls to breweries from mountain-tops during a shared family holiday.

The stunning value of what he created and continues to sustain as an intensive passion-project is evident to any visitor.

He is my antidoter of the week. The world needs more Adams.

“Only Connect” EM Forster, Howards End.

Over the last 25 years or so I can recall at least half a dozen occasions when leaders in the businesses I’ve operated in, have toyed with the notion of cancelling work socials, parties or culled the work canteen – ‘but people can walk to Greggs easily enough...’. Some have acted accordingly. When they’ve done so in the spirit of saving money or driving profit, they have ignored one fundamental truth. People like people. More than that, people need people to be happy. People only work because of people. Removing that social interaction and expecting a business to continue to operate at the same optimal rate, is like expecting an orgasm at a funeral. It’s possible but unlikely and a social car crash.

And it’s not just businesses which make such glaring mistakes. We’re all quite good at it for ourselves. We often don’t know what’s good for us. It never ceases to amaze me how people draw conclusions about their lot in life and then prescribe themselves the very medicine which is most contradictory to the diagnosis. Since COVID, this trend has found a fifth and sixth gear. Dare I say, it’s the younger generations who seem more susceptible to this pitfall and perhaps experience counts for something after all?

Here’s how a thought process may roll around the topic of remote working.

“People in the office are getting more opportunities than me. I didn’t get to go on that Parisian jolly but I’ve always wanted to see the Paris office. Maybe I wasn’t around when it was mooted around the water cooler? Jade got it. She would have been at the water cooler. She’s always in the office, sucking up to the bosses. Cow!”

It’s cold and the cost of living is ridiculous right now, especially heating bills. Now I’m WFH it costs at least £20 to heat this place for the day...but I suppose that’s cheaper than commuting…. even if the WiFi is terrible

I want to WFH to have more freedom and control over my destiny and workload. It saves me on commuting costs too and I’m in when Amazon parcels arrive. I got a couple of great books today. One to tackle my loneliness and one about anxiety. Great.

I wish I had a job where I felt I belonged to something bigger. There’s no sense of identity and community at this place. Why am I so unhappy?

What’s this survey from HR in my inbox? Oh, it’s asking me if I still want to work remotely or come back into the office 2 days a week!! WTF. I don’t like the tone of these questions. It’s like they’re FORCING me to come in or else. I’m ticking that box, ‘I prefer to work remotely 5 days a week’. That’ll teach ‘em for victimising me. HR arseholes.”...

Just as people have gained more freedom regarding when and where they work, their mental health has collapsed at an alarming rate. Up to 80% of workers report that remote working impacted their mental health negatively. Why? Well, it’s clear to many of us that it’s about connection. Isolate a rat in a lab from its pals for a few days and it shows signs of stress. We’re just the same. As EM Forster writes in his opening line of Howards End ‘Only Connect’.

Over the last several years the social glue of society has been dosed in a solvent, robbing us all of a cohesion which used to make us smile more, and love more. In 1990, one in five people in the UK met their spouse at work. Today’s figure can’t even be surveyed for fear that people would get sacked for completing the survey honestly...’work relationships!!!’...Ewwww, HR AND COMPUTER SAYS NO, CANCEL AND DETONATE ON SITE!

So that, finally, brings me to pubs, why they matter more now than ever, and why I’ve been asked to guest blog today.

Well, you know where this is going. Pubs are connection. They are community. They are not just where culture flows, they are that culture.

It may be too antiquated a cliche to say that pubs are a part of the fabric of society; and perhaps too exclusive and rural-biased to reference that the holy trinity of a village community was once a village shop, a Church and a thriving village pub. Those days have long gone, but I can’t help but quote Hilaire Belloc

“Change your hearts or you lose your inns and you will deserve to have lost them. But when you have lost your Inns, drown your empty selves, for you will have lost the last of England.”

I’m sure some readers won’t dare to relate to this, think it jingoistic, have vomited and already started playing Fortnite with a repeat offender in Wisconsin who they’ll never actually meet, like, love or loathe. But, whatever your religious viewpoint or ideology, pubs matter. They matter to towns and villages and to all countries where they comprise a significant cultural impact. And now, more than ever.

Places to connect in person are disappearing at an alarming rate. If they were a pink footed goose, there would be a Chris Packham-led appeal on BBC9 at 8pm every weekday asking people to dig deeper. Community centres are in short supply and underfunded, church attendance has been on the wane for decades, working men’s clubs have vanished, newsagents going, village shops vanishing, even bookmakers have disappeared and youth clubs have gone the way of the dodo. And yes, people will argue that coffee shops have plugged the gap and society has just moved in a different direction from the boozer. Well I’d say walk into a coffee shop and count how many people are alone, working on a laptop or scrolling on a mobile. How many people are actually connecting in the way that they might in a pub...

All this, and in a world where 9 million people in the UK alone describe themselves as ‘lonely’ or ‘very lonely’. Is it any wonder, when you can’t even guarantee speaking to someone in a shop at the bloody till. It drives me mental when I see an elderly person struggling with self-checkout. Well done, Lord Saintrose, you’ve saved a bob or two with your miserly automation but made everyone’s lives more stressful. You’ve outsourced a chunk of your ‘service’ to the people actually paying for your product - those who are most vulnerable in society and who may only get out once or twice a week to speak to someone in real life (since their other half died and their kids moved away). You’ve cast them into a digital oblivion of covid-infecting screen swiping.... Arrrghghhghgh. Shame on you.

We know the loneliness diagnosis, and yet we prescribe solutions which bring more of the same misery. Madness.

Back to pubs. There aren’t many left. Under 39,000 actually. In 1990, there were 63,500. My village pub was under threat a couple of years ago and I decided to stand up for it. I stood on a pub table a few times in actual real life, and then did more of the same virtually on Facebook to generate noise to save the thing; eventually got some funding from a generous chap who ‘got it’; and shamed the conglomerate who owned the pub on radio enough to convince them it was easier to sell it to a community inspired bid. Almost a year down the line and the pub is open, refurbished, viable and thriving.

But it’s in the conversations I hear in the pub where the real victory lies. People discussing break-ups, their latest diagnosis or prognosis, their children’s victories and challenges. People moaning about their boss in a safe place, airing their woes about the world and occasionally their politics. People decompressing from a day at work with a pint on the way home or a game of darts. Without a pub, many of these conversations would have no natural home. They wouldn’t happen at all. They’d be inner talk at best. Inner chat which may eat away at us, pushing happiness further and further away, isolating us from others. Emotions bottled up with no release.

Worse still, we may put these thoughts on social media instead, to be misinterpreted, driving anger northwards, and polarising society ever more.

So, a pub isn’t about alcohol, it’s about much more than that. It’s our collective happiness that’s in the balance. They’re as important as that.

You’d think Governments would appreciate that and recognise the psychological value to those who use them, the hole in society they fill and suture. Without wishing to get political - as all parties have a poor record in this regard - sadly the recent budget is likely to see our pub count drop another 5,000 during this term; still fewer places to meet, love and laugh.

A continued erosion of what is natural for people to do. Only connect.

Belloc’s words bear repeating:

“...when you have lost your Inns, drown your empty selves, for you will have lost the last of England.”

Mine’s a pint.

Adam Nicoll

Fractional CMO in hospitality | People and Culture leader | Pub-lover

The pint’s on me, Adam. Cheers to you.

(And if you liked this, you might also enjoy my ‘In Defence of Rebels and Booze’ post)

And what a last month it’s been with so many explosive global news events in all my fields of fascination/ concern: a poisonous feast of political polarisation; a prospective (likely abortive) TikTok ban in the US; tribal battle lines drawn over whether it’s possible to accidentally extend one’s right arm; identity-politics playing out in responses to two huge UK news stories- grooming gangs and the tragic Southport murders; and much more. I’m following as much of it as my stress levels can take, and yes, I have opinions (indeed, I was sat on a zoom with Sky News at 7.30pm last friday, thirty seconds from interview go-live to discuss the TikTok ban I wholeheartedly support before being bumped by the demise of a much-loved footballer).

Global politics is viewed as either deeply concerning or a welcome course-correction as pendulums of ascendant opinions swing around wildly, but our obsession with the global comes at what cost to the local? Indeed, how much of what is (or isn’t) happening at the local community level is responsible for it? Arguably, all of it…

The decline of community is one of the repetitive themes of Antidoters and last week I was hugely struck by a brilliant long article in The Atlantic by Derek Thompson that articulated and evidenced this phenomenon much more beautifully than I ever could: ‘The Antisocial Century’. (If you have the time, stop reading this and read that - you have my permission. If not, some highlights as follows). Whilst it’s US focussed, I believe it to be just as relevant to the UK.

The article details how, from the very social early part of the 20th century (thriving churches, growth of local group participation plus the rapid spread of libraries, theatres, music venues and parks), various trends over the last few decades have seen communities go into terminal decline. It started with the rise of car-culture and the impact on urban-planning… then shifting political priorities… then TV’s appearing in every home… (“From 1985 to 1994, active involvement in community organizations fell by nearly half” (Robert D Putnam “Bowling Alone”)..

All this well before the turbo-charging of these trends by recent technology shifts, Covid, on-demand entertainment and the explosion of food-delivery services:

“If two of the 20th century’s iconic technologies, the automobile and the television, initiated the rise of American aloneness, the 21st century’s most notorious piece of hardware has continued to fuel, and has indeed accelerated, our national anti-social streak. Countless books, articles, and cable-news segments have warned Americans that smartphones can negatively affect mental health and may be especially harmful to adolescents. But the fretful coverage is, if anything, restrained given how greatly these devices have changed our conscious experience. The typical person is awake for about 900 minutes a day. American kids and teenagers spend, on average, about 270 minutes on weekdays and 380 minutes on weekends gazing into their screens… By this account, screens occupy more than 30 percent of their waking life….

The individual preference for solitude, scaled up across society and exercised repeatedly over time, is rewiring America’s civic and psychic identity. And the consequences are far-reaching—for our happiness, our communities, our politics, and even our understanding of reality….

More worrisome than what young people do on their phone is what they aren’t doing. Young people are less likely… to get their driver’s license, or to go on a date, or to have more than one close friend, or even to hang out with their friends at all….

Phones mean that solitude is more crowded than it used to be, and crowds are more solitary. Bright lines once separated being alone and being in a crowd… Boundaries helped us. You could be present with your friends and reflective in your downtime. Now our social time is haunted by the possibility that something more interesting is happening somewhere else, and our downtime is contaminated by the streams and posts and texts of dozens of friends, colleagues, frenemies, strangers….

Practically the entire economy has reoriented itself to allow Americans to stay within their four walls. This phenomenon cannot be reduced to remote work. It is something far more totalizing—something more like “remote life.”

And one lovely framing theory that I’ve since plagiarised in conversation is the following:

Home-based, phone-based culture has arguably solidified our closest and most distant connections, the inner ring of family and best friends (bound by blood and intimacy) and the outer ring of tribe (linked by shared affinities). But it’s wreaking havoc on the middle ring of “familiar but not intimate” relationships with the people who live around us. “These are your neighbors, the people in your town.. We used to know them well; now we don’t”

I would personally add ‘the narcissistic obsession of self’ to the inner ring - and global political obsession to the outer, tribal ring. But yes, the middle ring we neglect at our peril.

Thompson goes on to explain how the “the middle ring is key to social cohesion… Families teach us love, and tribes teach us loyalty. The village teaches us tolerance”. Bumping regularly into those with whom we might disagree on ideology or politics but share so many other experiences, family-dynamics or local concerns allows us to truly see each other and find common-ground. Different experiences and life-perspectives are given greater consideration. Accommodation and peaceful co-existence becomes both possible and necessary.

And so, in an attempt to take my own medicine, my antidote-quest has driven me to middle-ring proactivity. I’ve volunteered with a local hospice initiative to be a ‘compassionate neighbour’ for an hour a week to a local elderly person who is lonely or socially excluded.

I hesitate to share this, as I feel there’s too much ‘look what a nice person I am’ virtue signalling in the world, so I’ll be honest and admit that my motivation here is only part altruistic and part selfish/ for research-purposes. Who are the people that do this and what is their motivation? What difference do/ can they make? How might one scale this? On a personal level, who might I get to know and how differently might they see the world based on their much longer experience of it? I’d love to hear personal stories of bygone-times and to broaden my narrow ‘people-like-me’ social circle. (But yes, I will commit to it and not quit once I’ve extracted some Antidoters value!)

So far, without yet having even been matched to a new socially-excluded friend, my research curiosity has already been piqued as follows:

Why was it so hard to volunteer for this? Why did I need to be DBS-checked, impose on two friends for references and attend a whole-day training event to give an hour of my time each week to have coffee with another consenting adult? But of course I know the answer: the precautionary principle.

If I murder Doris or steal all her money, someone will need to be held responsible (albeit possibly Amazon for selling me the knife… ‘do something! anything!’ *facepalm*). Whilst potentially there from the best of intentions, how far are all these barriers putting many off from getting involved in local initiatives? How many more football coaches, youth workers, scout-leaders or citizen-advice volunteers might we benefit from without them? We’ll never know.

(In related research, I talked to the British Nightclub Association last week about the potential of putting on alcohol-free ‘lite club’ evenings in their venues for teenagers but yet again, the precautionary principle is a key blocker. One negative news story involving drugs, a fight or a spiking would see the whole initiative would go up in flames of negative publicity, so it’s easier not to try. Let’s leave the kids to hang out in dingy, underfunded parks. (Or not… watch this space… or take that idea for yourself and run with it))

Why were all the 15 volunteers in my training session (bar one) female and with an average age of c. 68? Again no surprise perhaps given how similar percentages play out across the care sector (only 18% of the people working in adult social care identify as men – and even fewer among care workers (16%), senior care workers (15%), nurses (13%) and occupational therapists (11%) source). Is this due to stereotyping and nurture? Or nature, with the female brain more attuned to community and caring roles? (My friend David Goodhart’s recent book ‘The Care Dilemma’ provides a fantastic analysis of this subject for those interested).

No doubt, I’ll share more on my experiences compassionate-neighbouring in due course, but to close for now, a small selection of some recent reading/ listening:

• The Telepathy Tapes podcast… has literally blown my mind. I’ve been trying to comunicate telapathically with our dog for the last week. Updates to follow. (Whatsapp passive aggression seems to work well enough on my co-parent).

• TikTok - Weapon of Mass Distraction by Gurwinder Bhogal

• I Can’t Believe That Free Speech, Color Blindness, and Meritocracy Became Right-Wing Issues by Jeff Maurer

• Two of my favourite men talking about how to save the Western world and why the UK is going to sh1t (all podcast providers/ and YouTube)

More soon (albeit, I won’t be a slave to weekly).

Thanks so much for reading and do please share if you find any of this of interest.

This was not an indictment on the content or delivery - which were both brilliant - but on a modern culture where brains have been reprogrammed to multi-task; one where we struggle to stay in the moment and where we are slaves to the allure of devices. My mother’s generation isn’t so afflicted, but mine certainly is and as I scan the room - a brilliant team who work remotely all over the world and come together in person only once every 18 months - I notice that it’s worse the younger people are. We may worry about how this is rewiring our children’s brains, but we also need to take greater responsibility for our own and the example we set. A chant starts up in my head ‘Con-cen-tra-tion… Concentration now begin… Keep in rhythm’ - a kid’s game but apparently now ripe for adult team-building.

As I write, I have 102 tabs open on three browsers which I scroll between for different projects. Amongst them: 3 separate inboxes; a 40-channel Slack; 12 half-read articles; 5 half-listened-to YouTubes; 4 pdf reports waiting to reviewed; some half-baked product research; GoDaddy (because any idea that pops into my head can result in a rash url purchase); two conferences I’d like to attend; Trello, for tracking Christmas gifts and family-admin; 5 separate Linkedin tabs with posts I may or may not ‘like’; and (no-joke), the lyrics to a partridge in a pear tree. Let’s not even talk about my phone and the number of Whatsapps awaiting processing.

WTF am I doing? And how uniquely chaotic is my desktop? Why, mid-sentence here, do I feel a compulsion to quickly check if anything interesting has popped into one of my inboxes in the last 15 minutes? Quick scroll left, sign a birthday-party waiver, delete a marketing spam, add a football game to the calendar… and I’m back. The reason I record an audio version of this blog is so that it don’t sit in another tab to-read-later or fall down below the inbox fold. Perhaps my dulcet tones can be enjoyed at greater leisure, next time you’re in a car, walking the dog or doing a shop. Your time is precious. I don’t take it lightly.

Given that volume of content, how can we possibly give any of it proper consideration or find time to stop and process any meaningful conclusions? My tabs of potential knowledge-gems sit there contributing to mental overload in the same way that the physical detritus of our family life on every available surface stresses me out. It’s the content snorkelling habit analogy I’ve used before and I know it’s making me stupid and unproductive. Distraction is an illness and we’re all now afflicted.

In a moment of down time with my husband recently I had pause to reflect on my gallbladder… as you do. What even is it? Where is it? What does it do? It struck me that I recall *nothing* from school biology and haven’t ever given it a single thought. On musing this out loud, my husband and I both reached for devices. 7 minutes later, we know the answer - thank god - but at the cost of 14 cumulative minutes of our precious together time… x20 other such examples in any given week (where do I know that actress from? How do you stop your puppy eating shit? Synonyms for ‘pondering’?) Christ. Cogitate on the cumulative nature of that and how much of it is utterly, utterly pointless.

Answers to anything and everything that pops into our heads are a tap away and this instant accessibility has dramatically altered how we think about and retain facts. Are the ones we yield on a quick search even true? (Pineapple in dog-food? Really?).

As an unwelcome byproduct, we seem to have utterly lost the art of pondering. Even modern toilet roll holders are conspiring against pondering-time with their phone-rest shelves. Maybe it needs a rebrand? To ‘broogle’ is one term I recently heard.. (brain-google - although admittedly it would have yielded little on the gallbladder).

And yet, to ponder is a critical life skill. To do so silently is to process the noise of modern life and come to our own conclusions (as opposed to someone else’s); and to ponder out-loud fosters deep connection through shared curiosity - remarkably effective given the rarity of volunteered-ignorance in an age of cast-iron opinions.

For children, it’s even more important. As Monica C. Parker writes in Time magazine (with thanks to for sharing this quote in her own fabulous blog),

“Rather than demonizing daydreaming, we should protect it, nurture it, honor it—if not for the raft of physiological and psychological benefits, then for the potential societal benefits. People who daydream are more reflective, have a deeper sense of compassion, and show more moral decision-making. And ultimately, children who are more reflective, compassionate, and moral grow up to be the adults who build a more just society.”

We ignore this habit at our peril. And there are worrying trends everywhere conspiring to exacerbate the problem: the disappearance of free play and boredom for children despite its proven power to build resilience and relationship-building skills; the decline of long-form hand-writing, despite its superiority to typing on brain-connectivity, recall and comprehension; the decline of challenging, longer-form reading in education; and with ChatGPT and AI, turbo-charging these habits still further. Most depressingly, ‘Brain Rot’ has just been revealed as the Oxford University Press’s word of the year

(n.) Supposed deterioration of a person’s mental or intellectual state, especially viewed as a result of overconsumption of material (now particularly online content) considered to be trivial or unchallenging. Also: something characterized as likely to lead to such deterioration.

Yet still, the Antidoters persist.

A founder community I’m a part of ran ‘Ponder Wanders’ for a while. A wonderful idea where loosely-connected strangers would meet to take a stroll and discuss a selection of random topics at leisure. A friend has implemented something similar locally to alleviate loneliness and connect people in Hertfordshire. The Men’s Shed movement started in response to a recognition that men only really talk to each other when ‘doing something’ side-by-side: fixing, tinkering, playing golf etc. And the ‘unplugged’ movement is rapidly gathering momentum, with many phone-free events now popping up around the globe.

I believe that hope lies is something akin to an analogue renaissance. The buds are here and being cultivated by many of the innovators that have flooded my inbox since my After Babel blog with Jonathan Haidt (for which you can blame my blog inconsistency of late). I believe it to be some of the most important work happening in the world today.

Attention and focus is the new gold. I’d go so far as to say that it could become the next great soceital divide. Those kids with the ability to mine it and deep-dive will become our next leaders, leaving all others snorkelling subjects of the world they create.

And if we ourselves, still hope to make a dent, or at least calm our frazzled brains?… Con-cen-tra-tion…. Concentration now begin…. Keep in rhythm… Me. You.

Ponder on.

… by publishing elsewhere. But not just on any publication - Jonathan Haidt’s - who needs no introduction to Antidoters readers. His recent book ‘The Anxious Generation’ was a best-selling grenade thrown into the global debate around kids and smartphones, and his team’s ‘After Babel’ blog is, as a result, much more widely read by tens of thousands of influential readers. Happy is the cuckold, and welcome, new readers!

I wouldn’t want any of my OG followers to miss out, so please find the post below: a rallying call to entrepreneurs and corporations to help bring back childhood. It was a labour of love (hence the quiet here, alongside dragging my children up mountains) - but rest assured I have much more to say.

After Babel

A Mission for Businesses and Entrepreneurs: Help Bring Back Childhood

Introduction from Jon Haidt…

Read more

2 years ago · 25 likes · 8 comments · Jess Butcher

Writing elsewhere was an interesting process as I found myself mesmerised in real-time by the jumping cursors of 100 successive edits from After Babel contributors I hugely admire (thank you , , , and especially - and huge thanks to Jon for the kind words in his introduction).

Apparently my written-style needs work, with many Jess-isms hitting the cutting floor… which makes sense for a much more academic, research-led publication, but I’ll be glad to get back to mixed metaphors, ellipsis-overuse, superfluous detail and opinionated asides on my own turf.

The result was more considered and well-rounded, albeit already attracting some criticism and cynicism in the comments. Is it wrong to profit from these challenges? Are they/ should they remain out of the realm of corporate influence? What role does social-entrepreneurship have to play in all this? I don’t have all the answers, but I’m happy to kick-start the conversation and those that have opened up since Wednesday (e.g. this one), are already taking these ideas in deeper, more ambitious directions.

I’d also add that whilst After Babel is focussed on children, I do see a huge number of entrepreneurial opportunities for supporting adults too, for whom tech addiction (with its loss of perspective, time and focus) and IRL community disclocation can be just as destructive - to say nothing of the poor example being set for the young.

In my IRL Pledge side-hustle (shaping up to be more like a PhD), I’m seeking to capture as many of the innovators in the ‘digital/ IRL balance’ world as I can with a view towards amplifying their work and connecting dots between great do-ers in this space. I’ve already met and spoken to so many who fill me with hope that we can acheieve a happier, more balanced world. Do please share it with anyone you know of in the space and encourage them to visit/ reach out: hello@irlpledge.com

For new readers, please enjoy this selection of some of my favourite previous posts:

Because amidst all the gloom, doom and online noise, there are antidotes if you look for them. Antidoters assemble!

The out-of-the-blue news of the sudden death of anyone you even vaguely know, let alone are close to, is paralysing; an experience which sadly, most people either have, or will experience at some point in their lives. 

In a world where phones only now seem to ring to sell something or with bad news, the name flashing up on screen of someone who would normally text a cheerful update can, in itself, elicit panic.  You may be the first or tenth such call they’ve had to make on what started as a normal day and turned into one they will never forget: repeatedly having to pierce heart after unsuspecting heart with the unimaginable words: they are gone. 

The response is physical at first as the heart stops, followed immediately by waves of competing emotions: disbelief, confusion, fury, fear, regret and deep sorrow.  Platitudes are empty.  An uttered  ‘but… how…!?  irrelevant, and immediately regretted for its pointlessness. 

The schism in reality brings with it detachment and dissociation.  It’s just too big to fathom.  For those closest to the loved-one, in the eye of the shock-storm,  as I once was on a cold Christmas Day in 2006, their world stops turning.  Everything’s changed and yet, disorientingly, very little has. The weather weathers on. Pedestrians amble on. Inboxes keep pinging. The radio witters away.  The post arrives as usual.  Strangers keep smiling.  It’s what Auden’s ‘stop all the clocks’ railed against so powerfully.   

In broader society, it often seems like this disorientation and powerlessness can trigger intense reactions - spontaneous mobilisation towards fundraising, activism or angry protest.  Understandably.   Finding something, anything to anchor intense disorientation and confusion around or roaring back at injustice is much easier than sitting quietly in a gaping hole of shock and loss.   

Frequently, however, such efforts can cause more harm than good - not least to those in the eye of the grief storm, who risk getting thrust into a spotlight in their hour of greatest vulnerability and sorrow.  Get the bastards! New policies! Shame the culprits! When raw emotion is mobilised and channelled into immediate activism there can often be unintended consequences. Distance, time and perspective is nearly always required to evaluate the true nature of risk. 

Examples include the recent riots in the UK targeting immigrants post the immediate misinformation after the tragic Southport stabbings or the ‘Dangerous Dogs Act’ legislating against certain breeds - with huge numbers euthanized - but which failed to address the actual issue of irresponsible ownership.  More generally, a single, tragically-fatal drug reaction might instantly pull it from shelves despite its potential to save 10s of 1000s of other lives, and as Lenore Skenazy, Jonthan Haidt and others have frequently commented, wall-to-wall news coverage of child-tragedy have contributed hugely to a modern culture of over-protection and stranger-suspicion that has damaged resilience and mental health in the young.  

This is known as the ‘Cobra Effect’ after the period in colonial India when a bounty was offered for cobras after a number of deaths which was exploited by breeders and led to a net increase in the population.  Well intentioned knee-jerk actions can often exacerbate the problems they seek or resolve or inadvertently create new ones: polarisation, scape-goating or risk aversion to the point of triggering greater risk elsewhere.  

But what if there was no injustice and just tragedy, as for those I love last week?   Where and how to channel that shock? 

There are no words.  And yet words are all we have, with many beautifully strung together into some of the most precious letters I have ever received after the sudden death of my father.   Whilst I’ve written about death previously, it was from the perspective of more distance and time.   Whilst the sadness never really goes, time does help with the processing, enabling the things that actually matter in life to come flooding back into sharp focus. 

It’s too soon now for that deeper reverie.  The clocks have stopped for so many I love.  Maybe all any of us can do is just sit.   Sit with our sorrow and memories.  Sit with, and amongst those sharing the shock and loss so as to allow brains and hearts to slowly process the unfathomable.  

And yet quiet is one of the most powerful things in the world. 

It’s in the quiet that magic happens.  Deep thoughts, processing, creativity and invention. ‘Solitude is a catalyst of innovation’ (Susan Cain).  Quiet people are the ones to watch: the listeners and processors. Because ‘quiet is turning down the volume knob on life (Khaled Hosseini)’.  Less is more.  Silence is golden. Ignorance is bliss.  There’s a reason these idioms are so pervasive.   And a friend with whom you can enjoy quiet and silence is typically one of the best.  

Words can dramatically shift their emphasis and meaning across time and culture. Take ‘awful’, a word that used to mean ‘full of awe’ (by which definition, ‘awesome’ must have meant just a bit good) ‘decimate’, which meant reduce by only 1 in 10; ‘naughty’, which once just meant you had naught or nothing or ‘egregious’ which used to be a good thing-  eminent or distinguished.  But of course words morph… because language and words are powerful and critical to our understanding of the world.  Indeed, their changing meanings can alter our perception of the world.  Words are weaponised to disparage and shut down debate (typically any word ending in ‘ist’); and there is much recent commentary about how the rapidly growing overuse of medicalised therapy language is, in itself exacerbating mental health    

New words are appearing every year. Some recent Mirriam-Webster additions include ‘padawan’, ‘rewild’, ‘GOAT’, ‘tabata’ and ‘doomscroll’ (although my spell-check hasn’t caught up)...  all fascinating insights into a world of rapid cultural change  (and god knows what the kids are doing at the moment with words like ‘rizz’ and ‘skibidi’ but i know enough not to use them myself).  

There are also some wonderful words that exist in other cultures that encapsulate everyday feelings beautifully, but aren’t available to us in English. A few now sit in a rotating box in our bathroom thanks to a brilliant gift: 

‘Qurencia’ (Spanish): Describes a place where we feel safe, a ‘home’ (which doesn’t literally have to be where we live) from where we draw our strength and inspiration.  In bullfighting, a bull may stake out a querencia in a part of the ring where he will gather his energies before another charge’

‘L’Espirit de L’Escalier’ (French):  The witty or cutting retort that we should have delivered to a frenemy but that comes to mind only after we’ve left the gathering and are on our way down the stairs.  Captures our maddening inability to know how to answer humiliation in real time.  

‘Duende’ (Spanish):  A heightened state of emotion created by a moving piece of art. 

‘Dustsceawung’ (Old Engligh):  Contemplation of the fact that dust used to be other things - the walls of a city, the chief of the guards, a book, a great tree:  dust is always the ultimate destination.  Such contemplation may loosen the drip of our worldly desires. 

‘Huzun’ (Turkish):  The gloomy feeling that things are in decline and that the situation - often political in nature - will probably get gradually worse.  Despite the darkness, there’s a joy in having the word to hand, sparing us from a personal sense of persecution and reminding us that our misfortunes are largely collective in nature’  

And it’s antidote: 

‘Yunen’ (Japanese):  Gives a name to a mood in which one feels that the universe as a whole possesses a mysterious, elusive, but real, beauty.  Moonlight, snow on distant mountains, birds flying very high in the evening sky, and watching the sun rise over the ocean all feed this sensibility.  

So I put it to you all, how can we make ‘quiet’ sexy again?  How can we reclaim it as a positive? 

As entrepreneurs we can sell to negatives or we can sell to positives.  And I suspect we’re all yearning for a little more quiet.  Less anger, distraction and endless information in this increasingly noisy world.  The devices in our pocket have removed even the quiet moments we might have experienced behind a locked toilet door or those in the moments before we drift off to sleep.  But that contented sigh as the door closes to the last guest at a noisy party and the house falls silent is potentially possible for our brains every time we disconnect. 

And so, this Friday morning, please take a quiet moment to enjoy my favourite poem: 

Having said that, it’s all been a little academic to my own parenting of 3 under 5s, 6. 7, 8… until now, with the eldest just short of 11.  Yes, we’ve embraced chores as early as we can, but living in a small, commuter rat-run village with few neighbourhood playmates, it’s been hard to practise the ‘free range parenting’ that Jonathan Haidt and Lenore Skenazy (his partner on the ‘Let Grow’ movement) advocate for. 

Recently, we’ve started letting the kids sleep out in a shed in the garden, to wander off on solo errands during trips to our small market town and take the puppy out by themselves but none of these allow for much mischief-making for three siblings whose boredom and/or irritation with each other I can hear from 100 yards away. 

Outside these small tendrils of freedom from our family bounds, I’m struggling to find many other parents willing to loosen the reins to the big-wide-world with me.  Instead there are nervous texts in whatsapp checking whether a child will know anyone at an upcoming summer camp; fretful concerns over first sleepovers away from home; chaperones for hang-outs and packed-agenda playdates full of allergy-warnings and online waivers.  

Holidays provide the perfect opportunity.  A change of scene and routine to create more colourful memories - sunny, wet, sandy, dirty, exhausting memories.  And the Netherlands, it turns out, is the perfect place to practise free-range parenting. 

I write this (very briefly) from a holiday there with three other families and it’s the most perfect trip I could ever have imagined for one at our stage. We’re all camped separately within a huge site of static mobile-homes, safari tents and open-camping fields that wrap around a cheesy water park and a refreshingly relaxed theme park. It’s without a doubt, the last kind of holiday the well-travelled, young professional me would ever have thought I would enjoy.  Staffing is minimal and unobtrusive.  Gates and doors are left open.  Bikes piled up in corners, unlocked.  Queues are almost non-existent and there’s not a health and safety Nazi to be found (unlike in the UK). It’s all so refreshing and our eight cumulative kids, aged 6-12 are living their best free-range lives, disappearing for hours on end until their stomachs send them back to raid one of our various fridges. 

There have been endless hours burying each other in sand, on table-tennis tables, noisy games of Uno, beach volleyball (to a blaring Top Gun soundtrack), an impromptu gymnastic display cheered on by strangers; bike races weaving through chilled-out pedestrians and a competition to see who can ride the biggest roller coaster the most times (my 9 year old victorious on 22).

There’s also been a twisted ankle, some nasty scrapes and bruises, a lot of exposure to swear words and apparently the offer of a cigarette from a 14 year old loitering around the sandpit plus a few ramifications from slagging off Dutch football players (that we know about).  But when our paths cross (whilst the adults channel their inner-kid, running fully clothed through play fountains, beer in hand), the kids are filthy, dripping wet and hungry, but their shining eyes hold stories they’ll share excitedly, and secrets they won’t.  

And… I’ve realised, I don’t want their secrets.  They’re their bonds of friendship. My new mantra… ‘What I can’t see, I can’t over-parent’.  

No one has asked for a device since we got here.  

Minchin is a true polymath: comedian, social commentator, talented musician and composer (indeed his genius Matilda score has been ringing out around our house for the last few months given my daughter’s role in her school production).  I saw him in London some years back and it was one of the most wonderful, if discombobulating evenings - part gig, part comedy, part philosophy - hilarious, tear-jerking, uncomfortable and mind-expanding in turn. 

His ten-minute long ‘9 Life Lessons’ commencement speech at the University of Western Australia is one of my favourite speeches, providing beautiful, humorous articulation to so many of my own life philosophies.  e.g.

On meaning: 

Arts degrees are awesome. And they help you find meaning where there is none. And let me assure you, there is none. Don’t go looking for it. Searching for meaning is like searching for a rhyme scheme in a cookbook: you won’t find it and you’ll bugger up your soufflé.

On happiness: 

Happiness is like an orgasm: if you think about it too much, it goes away. Keep busy and aim to make someone else happy, and you might find you get some as a side effect. We didn’t evolve to be constantly content. Contented Homo Erectus got eaten before passing on their genes.

On exercise: 

I’m sorry, you pasty, pale, smoking philosophy grads, arching your eyebrows into a Cartesian curve as you watch the Human Movement mob winding their way through the miniature traffic cones of their existence: you are wrong and they are right. Well, you’re half right – you think, therefore you are… but also: you jog, therefore you sleep well, therefore you’re not overwhelmed by existential angst. You can’t be Kant, and you don’t want to be

On nuance: 

Most of society’s arguments are kept alive by a failure to acknowledge nuance. We tend to generate false dichotomies, then try to argue one point using two entirely different sets of assumptions, like two tennis players trying to win a match by hitting beautifully executed shots from either end of separate tennis courts.

I see it all the time online, people whose idea of being part of a subculture is to hate Coldplay or football or feminists or the Liberal Party. We have a tendency to define ourselves in opposition to stuff; as a comedian, I make a living out of it. But try to also express your passion for things you love. Be demonstrative and generous in your praise of those you admire. Send thank-you cards and give standing ovations. Be pro-stuff, not just anti-stuff.

Just watch it as the joy is as much in the delivery as it is the words - especially when he winces apologetically at the university Chancellor on uttering the arsehole line.  You’re welcome (incidentally, that’s why i haven’t done an audio version of this post. It will never do his quotes justice). 

This week, I stumbled across another gem from him that resonated given the current news cycle and the digital over-exposure rabbit hole I’ve been tumbling down in recent years.  He recently commented: 

‘I don’t think it’s a moral good to know about the suffering of everyone in the world...  beyond what you’re going to be able to act on and positively impact.   All the world’s grief is coming through this little thing that we can’t even put away from our beds for God’s sake… we’re lying in bed and we’re reading the distress of someone here and someone there and getting fed an agitating story.  And that makes you a worse mother. And a worse partner.  And a worse friend. And a worse member of your community…  

We need to curate our circle of concern…. The news is not the world.  It’s an algorithm and a bunch of people trying to get you agitated.  If all the news that distresses me… makes me less effective, less kind, less able to smile in the morning and help my kids who have problems… surely it’s an ethical evil to let your capacity to help.. be damaged by being distressed all the time by everyone’s pain… you can’t possibly shoulder everyone else’s pain.  

Ignorance is, as they say,  bliss, once forced upon us by lack of access to information, but could it now be a conscious, mental-health choice?  Might no (or at least ‘less’) information be better for all of us than mis/ disinformation or one-sided information by firehose?   Cue confused internal monologue:  Who would seriously advocate for ignorance?  Surely being informed is always better than being ignorant… people-power is democracy…  we can effect change by what we advocate for…  we, the people, do have influence.   

But do we?  Is public opinion the tail that wags the policy dog?  And if so, who or what is influencing public opinion? And with what motivation? The head spins = must consume more = more depressed about the state of the world.  More, more, more. 

Minchin is saying that we need to put our own life vests on before we can give attention, love or support to those around us, let alone wider society.  Closer family and friendship units build closer connections within more cohesive communities which have the power to impact society a lot more positively and profoundly than an angry, divided population shouting despondently at the powers that be.  A 24-7 panic-inducing diet of doom, outrage and commentary can only lead to the latter.   

I have a close friend who doesn’t have a single social media account and she is the most centred, optimistic person I know.  She chooses books over scrolling, curious conversations over debate and phone calls over texts. She frequently makes spontaneous phone calls for hour-long catch-ups with friends and is considered a ‘best friend’ to over 10 (for whom she’s bridesmaided).  Whilst I might have been guilty in the past of believing she’s become ignorant of the extent to which tech and social media now impacts cultural narratives, politics and world affairs, I’m increasingly now questioning whether the luddite who chooses not to sail the content sea of chaos is the fool here.  Maybe they’re the sages who retain their peace and sanity. (Bit of a stretch possibly for a mum of 3 under 7s). 

For my own part, this summer, I’ve once again rediscovered fiction and ploughed through eight gorgeous and/or gripping novels in four weeks.  Desperate to return and find out what happens within these imaginary worlds, I’ve been checking in less regularly on the news or my social feeds and experiencing more of my friend’s way of living.  And yes, whilst definitely less well-informed, I’ve felt lighter and started processing my thoughts more deeply.  I’m more present, more relaxed and am sleeping more deeply.  I’ve tuned into the lives around me more deeply.  Lesson learnt.

Countless products are now marketed at us to hack this feeling, using buzzy, therapeutic terms like ‘finding flow’ or ‘digital detox’ via meditation, yoga and more.  Even a walk to the local park has been rebranded a ‘mindfulness’ time-box within the uber-productive day.  I suspect that reading novels will soon be promoted as a digital detox strategy.  Certainly I’ve found it an effective one and if we need a shiny new label for a psychological nudge… all power to it.  Less ‘Blinkist’ please (an app that summarises books in 5 mins), more ‘War & Peace’. 

A final Mighty Minchin note of caution:  If you open your mind too much, your brains will fall out. 

(And if my husband’s made it this far,  please add his new book out in September to my birthday list). 

I recently came across the Harvard Grant Study findings, running since 1938, the longest longitudinal study in history.   Among such fun discoveries as the fact that ‘ageing liberals have more sex’ with ‘conservative men ceasing sexual activity around the age of 68’, the most interesting finding was that it identified two key things that enable adults to be happy and successful: 1) Love and 2) work ethic.  

The main thing that correlated with self esteem was whether or not they worked as a child, with those who had some form of consistent responsibility demonstrating considerably higher self esteem than those who did not. 

And yet - kids don’t seem to work much anymore. If at all under the age of 16 or 17. And as we know, most of their ‘spare time’ is spent on devices.  

This Ted talk which references the research describes how there are two extremes within parenting:  underparenting (aka ‘neglect’) and over-parenting, but whereas the negative impact of the former is self-evident, much less attention is paid to the latter despite it being as potentially damaging.  Julie Lythcott-Haines talks about the ‘checklisted childhood’ as akin to dog-training with no time for free play or chores where everything has to be ‘enriching’ and ‘A’ grades are valued above all with the result that kids end up feeling brittle and burnt out.  She goes on: 

But if you look at what we've done, if you have the courage to really look at it, you'll see that not only do our kids think their worth comes from grades and scores, but that when we live right up inside their precious developing minds all the time, like our very own version of the movie "Being John Malkovich," we send our children the message: "Hey kid, I don't think you can actually achieve any of this without me." And so with our overhelp, our over-protection and over-direction and hand-holding, we deprive our kids of the chance to build self-efficacy, which is a really fundamental tenet of the human psyche, far more important than that self-esteem they get every time we applaud. Self-efficacy is built when one sees that one's own actions lead to outcomes, not one's parents' actions on one's behalf, but when one's own actions lead to outcomes. So simply put, if our children are to develop self-efficacy, and they must, then they have to do a whole lot more of the thinking, planning, deciding, doing, hoping, coping, trial and error, dreaming and experiencing of life for themselves.

The good news is that there are some easy fixes here…  CHORES..  Cooking, cleaning, tidying, gardening - many possible from even pre-school years..  Because, as Lythcott-Haims told Tech Insider: "By making them do chores -- taking out the garbage, doing their own laundry -- they realize I have to do the work of life in order to be part of life. It's not just about me and what I need in this moment."

Whilst far from model parents, my husband and I are embracing this.  My 10 year old has started mowing the lawns, the 7 year old empties the dishwasher, bins are taken out and laundry baskets are starting to be decanted down to the machines.  OK, so the lawn looks like it’s got alopecia, none of our wine glasses now match and I’m washing far too many clean clothes that were easier to sling in a basket than fold into a cupboard…  but… it’s a start.  And it also helps us as two busy working parents to stay on top of the household.  My eldest has got to the age where he tunes into my stress levels and volunteers to do something…  I nearly wept the first time.  

And then, as they get old enough, encourage them to get out and earn their own money. 

As a teenager, I stopped getting pocket money at the age of 12 or 13 and to this day, I thank my parents for that (who could have afforded it but who both came from working-class backgrounds and knew the life-skills value of graft).  

I babysat, had a (brief) paper-round, worked in cafes, a shoe shop, collected glasses, pulled pints and spent a good few years stocking shelves and then behind the till at my local petrol station.  Along side the life skills (how to pour a good pint or estimate foot size by looking), I came quickly to understand the value of money and how many hours each purchase equated to.  At the age of 17, I recall watching macaws flying towards the sunset over the Amazon River on a youth expedition I’d paid for purely by my pay-check and feeling more pride in myself than I’d ever thought imaginable.  

I also worked alongside so many people that had little ambition (or qualifications) to do much more than those sort of jobs and discovered them to be some of the wittiest, most interesting people I’d met.  So, yes, another potential antidote to polarisation - as this opportunity to get to know those from so many different walks of life was truly a gift that I believe has made me much more empathetic and understanding of socio-economic difference… in attitudes, perceptions, politics, entitlement and more.  

These days, we see so few teenagers in shops or cafes - indeed, the minimum wage hasn’t actually helped them as it’s priced many of them out - despite the fact that having a part time job in the teen years can be so vital to feelings of competency and to developing responsibility.   My heart always soars when I’m driving and see a couple of kids walking door to door with buckets and sponges to offer car-washes or if a hand-written flyer arrives asking if lawns need mowing.  (We’ve had two 15 years olds do ours in recent years whilst waiting for the eldest to grow some muscles).   Getting children volunteering is another option…  a charity shop perhaps where they can learn customer-service or merchandising;  scouts or kids clubs where they can feel the power than comes from being an older, responsible ‘leader’; old people’s homes; food banks etc.   

Not only are we fuelling their self-esteem, but we’re promoting an alternative to the 5-6 hours daily spent on phones.  Win-win!   We need many more structures, incentives and organisations to help enable such opportunities.  

Last word to Julie:  

I've got two kids, Sawyer and Avery. They're teenagers. And once upon a time, I think I was treating my Sawyer and Avery like little bonsai trees that I was going to carefully clip and prune and shape into some perfect form of a human that might just be perfect enough to warrant them admission to one of the most highly selective colleges. But I've come to realize, after working with thousands of other people's kids and raising two kids of my own, my kids aren't bonsai trees. They're wildflowers of an unknown genus and species and it's my job to provide a nourishing environment, to strengthen them through chores and to love them so they can love others and receive love…  and the college, the major, the career, that's up to them. My job is not to make them become what I would have them become, but to support them in becoming their glorious selves.

Gotta go now - to restack the dishwasher, go through the bins to separate the recycling from the rubbish and double-check where my husband’s current political leanings lie.  

England supporters get a bad press and often rightly so when seen barrelling out of pubs, chucking lager and starting fights on the continent...  but when faded popstrel-turned-podcaster Lily Allen waded in on them this week, sharing the image below, she was derided as classist, snobby… and ignorant (flag-wise).  One particularly biting repost ‘I guess working class accents are more useful than working class people’...

Because yes, pride in English identity does seem to have become a working-class thing or at least restricted to the ‘somewheres’.   And football now seems to be the only time the St George’s flag is allowed to display anything akin to national pride (unless you’re a black cab driver - the Palestine flag is apparently fine, the St George not so much - although the one-sided press coverage of Sadiq Khan’s ‘woke’ ban also shows the class divide here).  

Whilst the UK (London especially) turns green for St Patrick’s Day, April 23rd is merely another date in the calendar, one that many English wouldn’t even know is St George’s.   Want to celebrate being English?  Just shush.   You must be ‘far right’ or will at least be accused of it… gammon, Brexiteer, nationalist etc. 

Where exactly is Englishness amidst Britishness now that all the other Brits have dropped it in preference for their Scottish, Welsh and Irish identities?  (Even the Cornish seem more inclined to their local identity than Englishness these days).  As a result, the two are now frequently conflated, with the English the only nation to wave the Union Jack - and pretty much only during royal occasions, Wimbledon or at the Last Night of the Proms. 

It often gives me pause for thought as my husband is Scottish and proud - kilted and sporranned-up for every formal occassion - and now I have ‘dual-identity’ children.  This makes the occasional football or rugby match difficult, but really little else besides.  And for all the Scottish-English rivalry (which let’s be honest, only goes in one direction),  I love that my children have Scottish heritage.  Indeed, their Scottish family has much more interesting ancestry than my own, descended from Stevenson lighthouse builders and more recently, a successful female author.   

All ‘minority’ nationalities are allowed to be celebrated in our multicultural age of inclusivity, but we now lack any coherent umbrella under which we can all identify.  In the US, immigrants (I believe!) are still required to pledge their allegiance to a flag that flies across the nation, with the national anthem played at every major event, but in the UK, we do neither and make little attempt to unify the various nationalities now on this island.  

Harking on about Britain’s illustrious past is now frowned upon. Too much controversy with regards to power-plays and empire.  Modern Britain is no longer one evoked by Hovis adverts, ‘Last of the Summer Wine’, or John Major’s 1993 speech, where he said:  

Fifty years from now Britain will still be the country of long shadows on county grounds, warm beer, invincible green suburbs, dog lovers and pools fillers and – as George Orwell said – “old maids bicycling to Holy Communion through the morning mist” and if we get our way – Shakespeare still read even in school. Britain will survive unamendable in all essentials.

But is it, only 30 years on?  It is, at least in the main, still a ‘green and pleasant land’ as of the famous ‘Jerusalem’ lyrics, but perhaps only for as long as we can protect the green belt or keep the solar farms at bay.  

The outdoors lover in me adores the very ‘English’ Lake District, with my coast-to-coast walk across the North of England one of my most precious memories. The history student in me loves the beauty and traditions our history has bequeathed us:  gorgeous cathedrals and stately homes - built over generations, not just lifetimes;  well-planned towns,  poetry, literature, philosophy and art.  And for some reason this tiny island (and the English especially) has gifted the world some of the best music of the last century.  

And the love of all-things-British survives abroad, as the queues of tourists queueing for a photo outside the red phone box in the shadow of Westminster tower attest. A second cousin is the son of a GI-bride who adores British history and has written a history of York Minster over successive visits;  a good friend in Canada sends me frequent forwards about British humour, conventions and history;  all our overseas guests marvel at our history and generations-long traditions and would delight in my father regaling them with Shakespeare’s Henry V ‘St Cripsin’s day’ speech at parties. Which begs the question, what, if any of this, is worth us feeling pride in….?   Even the monarchy itself is faced with the existential threat of a rising tide of republicanism and the National Trust seems hell bent on apologising for who we were throughout history.

Last week, I saw an arresting tweet by Gad Saad, a Canadian Professor of Behavioural Science which stopped me in my tracks.   

World history is defined by the following simple rule.  There are two groups on either side of a river.  Each covets various resources from the other group.  The only thing that stops a perpetual conflict between the two groups is the realization by each group that the other will respond in equal measure (or worse) if attacked.  

Now imagine that the West has decided to throw away this defining dynamic that shapes this fundamental historical reality.  Defending what is ours is rooted in our genes; it is a central feature of our human nature.  But the West has said that we are so progressive, so empathetic, so enlightened that we are not bound by pedestrian biology.  Hence, we will not defend our culture; we will not defend our heritage; we will not defend our religion; we will not defend our women; we will not defend our children; we will not defend our values.  According to our Western leaders, only barbarians worry about such defensive concerns.  We are open, tolerant, kind, compassionate, welcoming.  No amount of evidence can convince us that other groups might do us harm.  And hence, we brainwash our children who become our politicians; we rejoice in the rape of our societies because this proves that we are kind….  But how can you change anything when your society is hellbent on committing orgiastic suicide?

Ouch. Whilst somewhat apocryphal, I tend to agree that our inability to foster any sense of shared identity amongst the disparate groups that make up modern Britain is a serious error and yet another reason why modern Britain is so polarised.  It strikes me that for a society to survive, let alone thrive, the people must feel proud of themselves, their culture, their values, their ideas, their history, and that they must pass that pride on to their kids. Yes, a reconciliation of the worst aspects of our past is hugely important - with many lessons to be learnt - but we seem hell bent on throwing out all the good with the bad and blaming ourselves for the mistakes of our ancestors.

I’ll leave the last, more eloquent diagnosis of what might be going on to Thomas Sowell: 

“Despite a tendency in some intellectual circles to see the nation as just a subordinate part of the world at large — some acting, or even describing themselves, as citizens of the world — patriotism is, in one sense, little more than a recognition of the basic fact that one’s own material well-being, personal freedom, and sheer physical survival depend on the particular institutions, traditions and policies of the particular nation in which one lives. There is no comparable world government and, without the concrete institutions of government, there is nothing to be a citizen of or to provide enforceable rights, however lofty or poetic it may sound to be a citizen of the world.” 

God save the King!  Ing-er-Land!

Given my ongoing obsession with all the various lines along which we’re increasingly polarising, it struck me how few people I come across in my daily life who are significantly neuro-diverse.  With the exception of exposure via the odd high profile film portrayal (e.g. ‘Rain Man’ or ‘What’s Eating Gilbert Grape’) most of us seldom interact with those who are so far along the spectrum that they almost inhabit different worlds. 

Whilst TV-browsing, the concept of the show struck me as a little distasteful at first  Voyeurism, perhaps or exploitative light entertainment (comedy?) out of those potentially unable to understand how their awkward experiments in dating would be perceived.  But to my surprise and delight, I found myself enthralled by its compassionate story-telling.  I fell in love with many of the ‘stars’ and became hugely invested in their stories - each episode evoking laughter, tears and soul searching and ultimately, the profound question:  What is ‘normal’?  Trailer here. 

There was Abbey, a child-like, Disney-loving 23 year old, who, from her teddy and doll adorned bedroom, commented matter-of-factly that her life was like that of her hero, Ariel -  a mermaid out of water, with no voice in the world;  Subodh, a 33 year old maths genius who thought long and hard before responding that he hadn’t been on a date for…  33 years;  James, a 36 year old cosplay fan with detailed stories for each of the swords on his wall, but an inability to make eye contact or hold a conversation beyond pleasantries.

Their families’ love, support and desire for them to have companionship in their lives was beautiful and heartbreaking.  An older gentleman, Steve - now living independently with the help of a carer - proudly showed us old framed photos of him as a child sitting on his father’s knee - a much-loved, departed father who had evidently supported, protected him and brought him up with the most impeccable,1940s language, charm and manners:  ‘To have a lovely lady, would be an absolute dream.’ 

The participants are from a much less fashionable end of the spectrum than the neuro-diversity conversation seems to focus on these days, where functioning ADHD or dyslexia can be presented almost as a desirable super-power with rates of self-diagnosis (and medicalisation) growing exponentially.  Whilst I entirely understand and appreciate the desire to normalise neuro-diversity and reduce stigma,  I can’t help but wonder how far the much wider expansion of the definition has taken time, money and already-stretched professional resources from those at the extremes.  Indeed, it has been a source of frustration to me whilst at the Equality and Human Rights Commission (The EHRC - the Government regulator on whose board I sit) that Disability - one of the key protected characteristics we are mandated to protect - has been so sidelined in the national conversation in preference for such heated-debate around others.  

The sheer diversity within the ‘disability’ definition (with all their various needs) is complicated, and not a field I know enough about to comment meaningfully on (unlike many who might try) so I won’t pontificate further.  Instead, I just appreciate those story-tellers who help us to better understand those so different from ourselves.  

Other TV story-telling that has opened my eyes recently includes the recent Lewis Capaldi and James Blunt documentaries.  I found both shocking in different ways:  watching the former’s physical ticks take over his life as the pressure to repeat his early success piled on (alongside his loving family’s distress); and observing the cruel impact on someone of a whole country deciding overnight that they are deeply uncool and embarrassing for being ‘posh’ and holding the top chart spot for too long.   There’s something dark and unpleasant in our societal need to put people on a pedestal and then require them to either continue to perform at that same level or so quickly kick it away.   The celebrities piling in on Blunt came across as particularly pathetic (with the notable exception of Ed Sheeran). Meme culture can be utterly brutal and destroy reputations overnight.

The hugely sympathetic ‘Love on the Spectrum’ and the Glastonbury crowd singing for Lewis Capaldi when his ticks meant he couldn’t continue are beautiful reminders of our capacity for compassion and humanity in a world that I often worry has become increasingly intolerant of less fashionable, more complicated divergence.  Certainly not of divergent worldviews or anyone deemed too ‘privileged’ to deserve the benefit of the doubt.  

As always, when given the time and space within compelling story-telling to better understand those we think we don’t like or (for whatever reason) can’t identify with, we start to appreciate their experiences, fears, loves and intentions and become much less judgemental. This ‘All that we share’ Danish TV advert demonstrates this well, as does this Heineken advert which saw people with opposing views building a bar together.

Few are sadly capable or brave enough to James-Blunt their way out of adversity through wit and humour, but I wish more could or would try… 

So I’m killing birds this week by using this post to try and think out loud on how to bring my story up to date and maybe draw out some different conclusions with more years under my belt.   The previous version, delivered to graduating girls at my old school in 2018 can be found here and as I commented in the blog-blurb at the time: 

My inner philosopher came out …slightly patronising and preachy in tone I realise on re-reading — but as an exercise, it was an invaluable one. I’d love to write one of these every 5 or 10 years and see how my rules and advice would change… as even re-reading this 2 years later, some of these ideas have moved on.  

Hello, 6 years later.  

And yet I hesitate. Because increasingly I find the presumptuousness of the whole ‘what I want to tell you about life’ trend gives me the ‘ick’ - at least from anyone under the age of 65 or who hasn’t been seriously confronted by their own mortality.  The older I get, the more aware I become of how much I have to learn, let alone impart…  

Life lessons assault us.  As previously discussed I feel an almost physical aversion to the modern cult of ‘personal brand’ and the narcissism I fear it encourages but it now seems to be a prerequisite for authors, musicians or creators to bring a ‘following’ with them should they want to go ‘pro’.  Even start-ups now only seem newsworthy if their founders’ stories are newsworthy. Above all, it has struck me that my lessons - borne from my interests, my background, priorities, values, family-life and financial circumstances - are only really relevant to… er… me.   The value in stepping back to consider these lessons is always greater for the story-teller than the listener.   What is it they say?  That we should not compare ourselves with others, but with who we were yesterday.  We should be our own competition. 

Strong sentiment but surely we can’t help but look for mirrors in the faces around us- whether close at hand, or in the spotlight.  Chat shows, biographies, Desert Island Discs and podcasting wouldn’t exist and be so popular if this wasn’t the case. Stories are the most powerful way of influencing people; shared fears, hopes and experiences are the glue that connects us.  

We seek inspiration for ideas we can borrow and combine into mash-up role models:  prioritise like her, write like him, parent like her, financially-plan like him, command speaking fees like her etc.   The problem is that huge success in one field for any one of these people has usually come at the cost of something… breadth of knowledge, family, friends, mental health, balance...  How many of us are actually willing to make those sacrifices?  And yet how many of us still end up feeling like failures because we don’t? 

Scott Galloway (NYU professor, author and entrepreneur) spoke brilliantly on this at a recent podcast recording I went to  - admirable (if a little unlikeable) for his single-minded focus on wealth and status-creation, which he was honest enough to admit came at the expense of knowing his children when they were young.

He asked everyone in the room the question: what is ‘rich’?  It brought to mind a social media reel I’ve now seen 5x of ‘influencers’ on the street asking passersby: ‘If I gave you a million pounds now, but told you you wouldn’t wake up tomorrow, would you take it’?  No?  Well that’s what tomorrow’s worth then’.  

I for one, have always chosen balance and a ‘bit of everything’ over obsessive success in any one field.  It’s why I’ll never be super-rich, but it’s also why I have so many awesome, wacky stories - from zoom calls with Royalty and starring in a documentary in Sri Lanka to going on a 48hr trade mission to China with a Prime Minister on the ministerial plane and (although I credit good fortune equally for this), I believe it’s partly why I have deep love and friendship in my life.  I find the time to invest in it.

Last time around my 4 key life lessons were tailored to a room of 18 year old girls and consisted of: 1) why they should reject the modern feminist victimhood narrative 2) the importance of building and nurturing networks 3) staying curious and keeping out of echo-chambers 4) recognising and embracing the fact that we will not always be happy and don’t need to optimise for such (alongside inappropriate school girl memories). 

I stand by pretty much all of those 6 years on - although take a slightly more nuanced view on some of 1.  On re-reading, I also realised that I forgot the importance of 2 as I’ve let my network slide over the recent young-children years.  Time and prioritisation simply hasn’t allowed for it making it so much harder now to reconnect or pull in favours when I haven’t had the energy to throw out any of my own karma for a while. 

But perhaps my greatest learning of the last 5 years is the fact that I haven’t needed high profile success, status, travel or extreme experiences to have a fulfilled life.  Sharing the experience of parenting with my husband and watching our babies turn into fascinating, wildly different little people has been the biggest adventure, bringing with it so many new learnings: seeing the oddness of the world through their new eyes; rediscovering the joy of music, play or nature; remembering the importance of silliness; investing in the daily minutiae of our local community; building a ‘home’ and sanctuary for those I love...   plus how to survive (if not thrive) on limited sleep and with a constant bounce-head.  

My suspicion is that these revelations in so many women at the same life stage are much more responsible for the gender pay gap than ever given credit for.  By no means the sole factor, but a significant one given how many higher-earning women I’ve observed de-prioritise their careers during these years. 

Parents of young children learn how to say ‘no’.  We are constantly letting people down and bailing on plans last minute.  But yes, I could probably have worked better during the last few years at pareto-principling the 20% of my network engaged in the problems I now care most about.  I’m currently working hard to build it back up and in fact, this blog has been instrumental in reopening many of those old doors. 

And maybe, without really realising it, Antidoters has provided a distillation of life-lessons over the last few years… a way to consolidate and make-sense of what I’m learning and thinking as-I-go. (Just with slightly less of ‘me’ and more my personal Antidoter inspirations as its focus).  Undeniably though, the value is primarily mine, so that Jess tomorrow competes better with Jess yesterday.  And if anyone else enjoys the weekly provocation-vomit, that’s just pretty cool.   

I’ll adapt Dan Priestley’s book quote:  The blog (or speech) that most changes your life is the one you write.  (Book to follow).   

And with that said..  apologies, I’m going biweekly for a while to get my head down on a few other products, including a book.  Back in July. X 

With the exception of veterans and maybe presidents, respect for our elders now seems deeply unfashionable and it’s no wonder given how few of us mix outside of our age-demographics.  We inhabit entirely different cultural siloes: we listen to different music; get our news from different sources; binge different dramas; use different colloquialisms and admire celebs or ‘influencers’ that other generations will never encounter.  Many of these have always been the case but never before as mutually exclusive by generation.  Most of soceity would been vaguely aware of most major national/global celebrities when I was growing up, but ask my mother who Mr Beast is or a teenager who Jeremy Clarkson is and they’ll both just blink blankly.  

In the absence of actually knowing (m)any, it’s little surprise older people are frequently derided as out-of-touch: blamed for Brexit and Trump, high house prices, and much of our economic inequality (until that is, they age beyond being ‘dangerous’ and inexplicably, patronisingly become ‘cute’).  Simultaneously young people are branded lazy, angry, materialist or ‘snowflakes’ in outlook by many elders.  As ever, antidoters…  neither are fair or accurate generalisations. 

Of course, the political polarisation of young and old has been well documented for generations. 

Why is it people typically move right as they age and what does this mean for politics in a rapidly ageing world?   Is it, as often assumed, that people tend to gravitate towards more self-preservationist politics… for their assets, customs or the social conventions that they fear are in terminal decline in a world evolving so rapidly without them?  Or might it be that their more extensive life-experience provides them with more data points, experience and realistic insight into human nature?  Are conventions and traditions experiments proven to work over generations, discarded at our peril or is tradition “one of those words conservative people use as a shortcut to thinking.” (Warren Ellis) or ‘the democracy of the dead’ (Chesterton)?  

In a world that seems to prioritise ‘lived experience’ over data and evidence, it’s curious that the biggest proponents of this world view - the young -  can be so dismissive of the opinions fostered over decades-long lived experience.  

It is assumed that the passionate activism of youth reflects greater concern and empathy for the world.  Yet In his defence of ‘respecting our elders’ at an Oxford Union debate, quotes a myriad of research that consistently demonstrates that older adults are generally more ethical, more cooperative, and more trusting than younger adults with the latter displaying “a greater propensity for deceit, manipulation, and selfishness compared with older people”. 

On the question of ‘wisdom’  he comments:  

The very fact that we can even ponder this question suggests that we live in a society of relative comfort—a luxury secured through the efforts and decisions of previous generations…

Not all old people are wise, but almost all wise people are old…. 

True wisdom is not just about making good choices; it also encompasses the ability to retain sound judgement across a diverse array of situations, especially unfamiliar and challenging ones. …

Only by respecting elders enough to listen to how they made their decisions, including concentrating on where they might have gone wrong, can we hope to do any better than them. 

And yet now we fetishise youth. Case in point: Greta Thunberg, whose hero-worshipping never sat well with me and frankly, struck me as exploitative.   How, at the time, did we make a 14 year old without a geography GCSE a figurehead for one of the most deeply scientific issues of our time, advocating simplistic policies that would have seismic economic ramifications for the poorest populations in the world?  Quite how qualified she is on the complexities and history of the Middle East conflict at the ripe old age of 21 is another question.  ‘How dare you?’ Quite.  

Both Old-Agesim and ‘Teenism’ are rife, but rarely get limelight from the other ‘isms’ beyond the odd conversation around whether carpark app-only payments or ‘digital natives only’ job adverts are discriminatory.  Groups of ‘youths’ are watched suspiciously, banned from shopping in groups and frowned upon for high jinks in public places whilst also told they also spend too much time on their devices.  Where are they supposed to go and what else are they supposed to do but ‘hang about’ in a country that’s seen youth funding cut by £1.1Bn over the last decade?  There’s not even a high street to speak of anymore beyond overpriced coffee shops, vape shops and charity shops (huzzah!).  Incidentally - this recent McDonalds advert capitalises on this brilliantly.  Fantastic advertising.

Many over 40s accuse the young of being lazy.  #Quietquitting is a hashtag trending amongst GenZ (& below) to promote opting-out of hard work because, as , an expert on generational difference explains:  “Gen Z have grown up in a time when work doesn’t pay…. Average real wages are now no higher than they were in 2005. They may have increased in the last two years, but as we know, so has the cost of everything else - despite the fact that early-career salaries now (whilst not bad in absolute terms), buy a lot less after rent and living expenses”.  With the average house price now 8x the average salary, getting on the property ladder is near impossible for even higher-earning 20 or 30-somethings without a bank of Mum and Dad.  It’s no wonder they’re a bit bitter, not drinking the kool aid or signing up to emulate their parents’ stressful lives. 

Forty-something is an interesting vantage age from which to observe both… and to give both a bit more of the benefit of the doubt.  The kids are alright.  Many are friggin awesome. They’ll undoubtedly do much better with less smartphone time (interesting updates on my explorations to come)...  But…  so are the oldies.  They’re just growing/ grew up in such different, unrecognisable-to-each-other worlds. 

As with all questions of polarisation, the solution needs to involve more and deeper societal mixing.  More cross-generational conversations; more IRL community initiatives.  To be honest, this was my hope for the recent Tory ‘national service’ manifesto initiative but its poor (rushed?) announcement and positioning saw the community-value of the ‘civic’ applications sidelined by the furore over the military service elements.  The potential for the former to not only build skills but foster community-harmony by bringing people into regular contact with those of different socio-economic backgrounds, ideologies and age could (have?) provide(d) a powerful antidote to polarisation.  

Personally, in the modern battle between old and young, I’m genuinely not sure which side i’m falling on right now. I’m at pivot point.  Or maybe not, Grandma. (the Greta comment might have edged it).  You tell me. 

Boring bit where I ask you to please share this, forward it, link to it on (bl0ody) social media - as whilst I get so many lovely text messages from people who enjoy different editions (& it’s led to some fascinating intros) - it would always be nice if a few more people were reading it…