Generous Blog Entries

A Generous Election: What's The Small Idea?

2010-03-08T12:12:33Z

Generation or insulation? Time to get our houses in order.

The government’s recently announced micro-generation scheme is great news. Isn’t it? If you install small-scale renewable energy generating capability into your house there will be a guaranteed pay-back per kw on all the electricity you produce for 25 years – no matter if you use that energy yourself or sell it back to the Grid. (Read more about these ‘feed in tariffs’ here.)

‘If the government offered to pay you £1,000 a year for the next 25 years, in return for an up-front investment of £12,500, you’d snap it up in a second.’

Not everyone thinks this is good news. The biggest detractor is environmental campaigner George Monbiot.

’Buying a solar panel is now the best investment a householder can make … If you own a house and can afford the investment, you’d be crazy not to cash in … Had this money been spent instead on insulation or double glazing, it could have helped relieve fuel poverty at the same time as cutting emissions. But the feed-in tax is both wasteful and regressive. The government has now decided not to oblige people to improve the efficiency of their homes before they can claim a tariff: you’ll be paid to put a solar panel on your roof even if the roof contains no insulation.’

Strong stuff.

At the same time, Energy Secretary Ed Milliband has announced a green loans scheme which would help overcome the financial barriers and upfront costs people face when trying make their homes greener. The loans made would remain attached to the house where insulation, solar panels or other green technology was installed.

So what’s a Generous take on this? Well, there’s probably several (add your comments below) but here’s a small idea from me: let’s persuade the next government to introduce measures that stand to benefit everyone in the country at the same time as moving us towards our carbon emission reduction goals.

For my money this would be about grants/loans for insulation and energy efficiency and grants for renewable technology insulation, and arguably without the guaranteed pay-pack tariffs.* The really important thing would be that these grants/loans should only be made available in a certain order – in other words, you can’t have a loan/grant for renewable energy generating capability in your house until you’ve had all the right insulation done, with or without loans/grants. In other words, a household would have to show that it’s taken all the energy efficiency measures it can before being eligible for micro-generation help.

Insulation precedes micro-generation is what should be part of a Generous election manifesto.

Agree? Disagree?

Join the debate below.

* Because Generous is about trying to do the Generous thing I reckon that the schemes offering guaranteed per kW pay back on micro-generation should be shelved for the time being, taken out of the equation. Surely it should be enough that households increasingly won’t require as much energy providing to them down the wires from the Grid. Surely that’s a good thing?

Flickr photosource – thanks Aaron

Messy Generosity

2010-02-23T14:05:02Z

The first trip of the year back up to the allotment (I know, we’re slacking) brings the truth sharply back into focus: when it comes to living a Generous life with kids in tow, things get pretty late and pretty messy.

Let me explain. It just so happens that our allotment is right next door to the neatest, most timely plot of our set. (It’s quite possibly the neatest allotment anywhere in the whole world.) The guy who works it (he’s newly retired – an important note) does everything by the book and bang on time. Clinically so. He actually uses an old wooden metre rule – the sort you might remember from school – to measure out his planting distances. And he has special tools and schedules for every single allotment task.

Ours, by contrast, is a raggle-taggle plot. It’s not weed-infested. It’s not overgrown. And it’s very productive. But it’s just not ordered and timed in the way our neighbour’s is. Even more than that, because my partner and I end up snatching a couple of hours here and there to get some frenzied digging or planting done without proper handover and briefing notes, we often end up undoing the good work the other has done. I’ve even dug up asparagus before. A crime my partner would say warrants a life sentence.

Anyway, if allotments are Generous places – and I think, like another Generous blogger before me, that they are – then our neighbour’s generosity is not of the messy, often-late variety ours is. It’s neat and tidy.

And that brings me to the Mister Men. Our boys love the Mister Men. Especially the story of Mr Messy. Mr Messy runs into Mr Neat and Mr Tidy who well and truly sort him out – starting with his garden, then his house, and then, finally, him!

In the end Mr Messy doesn’t look like Mr Messy anymore. He’s been all neatened up. I’m not sure how I feel about this story. I’m not sure about Mr Messy having to conform to the tyranny of Mr Neat and Mr Tidy’s world. It’s an unspoken tyranny I sense wafting over from our neighbour’s allotment when the wind is in a certain (paranoid) direction.

But I know it’s never as black and white as that. Our allotment neighbour is probably just as Generous as we’re trying to be. Probably more so. It’s just that he practises a more orderly, punctual form of Generosity. Ours is simply more loose and messy.

The good news is that it takes all sorts. Which is why Roger Hargreaves’ Mister Men are so enduringly popular. Because his view of the world is that we come in all shapes and sizes.

(For more on the Mister Men from Radio 4 on Sunday 14 February 2010 click here.)

Just Connect

2010-02-08T12:43:03Z

I was given a book for Christmas entitled The Wild Places by Robert MacFarlane. He tackles the question ‘Are there any genuinely wild places left in Britain?’ by embarking on a series of beautifully described journeys, spending nights out on cliff-tops and remote beaches, deep in snowy woods and ancient meadows, as well as bathing in icy rivers and waterfalls.

During one of his reflections (while high on the ridges in the Lake District in the middle of the night) MacFarlane talks about our estrangement from the dark – through artificial lighting – as a great and serious loss. “Star-gazing gives us access to orders of events … which are beyond our capacity to imagine. It is unsurprising that dreams of humility and reverence have been directed towards the moon and stars for as long as human culture has recorded itself … the blinding of the stars is only one aspect of this retreat from the real. In so many ways there has been a prising away of life from place. We experience, as no historical period has before, disembodiment and dematerialisation. The almost infinite connectivity of the technological world … has exacted a toll in the coin of contact. We have in many ways forgotten what the world feels like.

“We have come increasingly to forget that our minds are shaped by the bodily experience of being in the world – its spaces, textures, sounds, smells and habits … the feel of a hot, dry wind on the face, the smell of distant rain carried as a scent stream in the air, the touch of a bird’s sharp foot on one’s outstretched palm; such encounters shape our beings and our imaginations in ways which are beyond analysis, but also beyond doubt. There is something uncomplicatedly true in the sensation of laying hands on sun-warmed rock, or watching a dense mutating flock of birds, or seeing snow fall irrefutably upon one’s upturned palm.

He quotes the mountaineer Gaston Rebuffat: “Night has been banished, so have the cold, the wind, and the stars. They have all been neutralised: the rhythm of life itself is obscured. Everything goes by so fast, and makes so much noise, and men hurry by without heeding the grass by the roadside, its colour, its smell … but what a strange encounter then is that between man and the high places of his planet! Up there he is surrounded by silence.” Rebuffat wrote these words in 1956.

Because of the recent heavy snowfall, many of my colleagues simply worked from home. But when they did get back to the office many of them remarked that they were quietly going ‘stir-fry crazy’ sitting at home, responding to emails and telephone conference calls. There was something reassuring about being physically present with their colleagues (despite all their annoying habits), something about belonging, touching base. It struck me that apart from our lack of connectedness with the physical environment, which MacFarlane effectively articulates, we still desire physical community – and for those who live alone, some days work can sometimes be the only form of community they get. Generous, for me, is partly about having a sense of local place – and connecting with that place in a variety of ways, including welcoming others into our group. This might get risky.

I was leaving work one Friday evening two weeks ago and as I said good night to one of my colleagues, she asked me what I was doing for the weekend. I rambled on a bit and then remembered I was going out with some friends that night to a Poet’s Café event, which had an open mic session. Did I want to keep that quiet? I decided to spill the beans. She asked me if I was going to participate: I said I was. Did I have my own material: I said I did. (You have to think about this conversation happening in the context of a very IT/engineering, male-dominated, hierarchical culture – poetry is not cool!) In the end she turned up with her partner to the event. I had a very nice surprise when I walked into the venue and saw them both. (I think she enjoyed it as another work colleague caught up with me on the following Monday and mentioned the event and asked me if she could come to the next one!)

By all means, go for a walk in the rain in your local forest and just experience the elements (MacFarlane has certainly got me thinking – and walking). But what about the people you see at work every day – are there ways we can be more welcoming and inclusive?

You can read Andrew Motion’s Review of The Wild Places here

Flickr photosource – thanks Pink Sherbert

A matter of degrees

2010-01-29T12:02:32Z

Like most boys of their age, our older two – at six and four – have a lurid love of a pseudo-scientific tale I tell them. It’s a tale that, in turn, some other adult told me as a child. About how a frog won’t jump out of a saucepan of water as it’s heated up, but will instead stay put, to boil alive. Unable to perceive the subtle temperature increases, the frog takes ‘sitting in the hot tub’ to its ultimate end. Gross. But the boys love it.

‘Daddy, does its skin come off?’ ‘Does it change colour?’ ‘Does it explode?’ ‘Catch fire?’ The questions come thick and fast. Their imaginations run wild with the idea of this poor defenceless creature and its agonising death.

Now, as a Dad trying to be part of a Generous-minded family, this gross-out tale takes on more layers of meaning. Not that our boys are bothered about that! But let’s leave them for a few moments with the ghoulish physicality of the frog in hot water and turn instead to what else that story might possibly spark off.

Think, for example, about the recent cold snap we enjoyed here in the UK. As the thaw set in and temperatures rose to six degrees centigrade last weekend it felt positively balmy. Which of course is silly. Six degrees centigrade is still cold. But in comparison to the continually sub-zero register, things felt almost warm. It’s amazing how quickly we adapt and get used to things.

And then think about the way in which seemingly small changes in temperature globally will make a catastrophic difference to poor communities in low-lying regions. It’s why the two-degree centigrade rise is so sacrosanct and why Copenhagen proved so frustrating in not enshrining it as a global limit. Two degrees might not feel like much to us. But it could mean the difference between life and death to millions.

We may feel resilient and toughened up now after our cold snap. (Who needs gloves and coats for the rest of the winter?) The mistake, of course, is to only see things from our point of view. While we sledged and screeched on snowy slopes, an old couple died in their Northampton bungalow from hyperthermia (http://www.telegraph.co.uk/topics/weather/6970522/Neglect-fears-after-elderly-couple-die-in-freezing-home.html).

So, back to the boys. Temperature change and its effects will always fascinate them – whether they’re frying slugs under magnifying glasses in the summer sun or imagining frogs boiling to death in saucepans. Our hope must be that as they grow more conscious of a world beyond their own, they will realise that subtle, almost imperceptible warming will have far more gruesome effects than even they can imagine right now. It’s a matter of degrees; a matter of life and death.

Changing behaviour – sometimes takes just three days

2010-01-29T12:01:20Z

Recently I re-learned a valuable lesson in terms of the way we manage our children. I think it might be applicable to the Generous journey. See what you think.

You know how you get stuck with things? Not so much in a rut, as in a pattern? Resigned to the fact that things will ‘always be like that’? It happens a lot when you have children. At precisely the time of life when you should be filled with a sense of the potential, hope and expectation for the future you see in your offspring, you get bogged down in the seemingly endless round of dealing with their ever-pressing present.

We’ve got four boys. All of them are too young for comfort. All of them close in age. Outnumbered, it’s easy to forget we the parents are in charge; we can change things. We just forget we can. Or lack the energy to act.

One of our boys is a perennially early riser. In the bleary-eyed, muzzy-headed small hours I often curse his habitual nature. Then I remember how I was exactly the same. (Bloody selfish genes.) So this is OK. Except that it isn’t. Because he’s also an extrovert, which means that as soon as he’s awake he needs other people to draw his energy from. That’s us. And as our never ending and various techniques for containment, manipulation and outright bribery have petered out his next youngest brother has become the target of this attention-seeking missile.

Fine, you might think. Except that his younger brother is a late-sleeping introvert. Poor soul. And we have lived with these two boys sharing a bedroom since their younger twin brothers were born, thinking that this was ‘just the way it had to be’. Thinking that our middle son was destined to a life of sleep-deprived ill health and ill temper.

Until last weekend we decided to change things and move the older, dawn chorus boy into a room on his own and to lump the long-suffering middle son in with his younger twin brothers. After just two evenings of slight chaos the initial excitement waned and we had a new pattern. The early bird still rises two hours before we’d like to start the day but he now wakes none of his brothers because he’s out on his own. The three sensible sleepers, meanwhile, sleep on and already enjoy better health and moods as a result. And we feel like we’re ‘getting our middle boy back’ after lack of sleep had made him less than who we knew he was to us for more than two years.

It took just three days to change the default settings of our household. The point being? I think we often settle into patterns, thinking we can’t change them. But this recent domestic experience has reminded me that we often can. More than that, it’s reminded me that sometimes we can change them more easily than we imagined.

Being part of Generous is about changing our default settings in favour of a better future for others, ourselves and the planet we all share. And I’ve just had another glimpse of the difference that can be made when we’re brave enough to make a change.

Global Generosity?

2009-12-08T12:12:05Z

I read recently that the cost of 2007’s natural disasters was $63 billion dollars. That’s about the same as the amount made available in 2008 to bail out two UK banks: RBS and Lloyds Banking Group. The world can make hard cash appear if it needs to. Global generousity – now there’s a thought.

I wonder how generous all the developing nations will be this coming week in Copenhagen. I don’t mean during the announcements (or the PR that goes along with it) but weeks later when there are no cameras around and commitments have to be kept. I believe we can sort this out (we certainly don’t lack the money). And we owe it to the developing nations to do so as they are the ones facing the consequences if we don’t.

Flickr photosource – thanks nattu

Spend less and be more Generous

2009-11-23T12:38:37Z

In 1647, the English Parliament passed a law that made Christmas illegal. Oliver Cromwell banned Christmas festivities, considering feasting and revelry on a ‘holy day’ immoral. Anybody caught celebrating Christmas was arrested. The ban was only lifted when the Puritans lost power in 1660.

The reason for mentioning this rather random historical fact is that I tend to feel rather like Cromwell’s long lost distant descendant at this time of year. Not because I aim to be, please understand. More because the ideas I choose to promote sometimes paint me as a bit of a Scrooge.

In actual fact, I’m totally in favour of ‘feasting and revelry’ and am a huge fan of the season in general. In addition to the standard merriment, food and partying, it’s a fantastic opportunity to show hospitality towards those neighbours or work colleagues that we tend to ignore. Also for using the occasion to strengthen family ties.

But when it comes to presents under the tree, ‘giving generously’ doesn’t mean we ought to re-mortgage our homes. If anything, it might be more generous to give a less expensive gift, but give it a bit more thought.

For example, a voucher that says, ‘I’ll babysit for you once a month this coming year’. Or what about buying books, DVDs, CDs, games etc. second-hand off eBay or Amazon… or from a local charity shop? And any money that we then save – by getting less expensive presents – could be directed towards those who really need it. Those who won’t be enjoying all of the festivities that we will; who wouldn’t notice if their country made Christmas illegal again. (As Bob Geldof would have us sing: ‘Do they know it’s Christmas time at all?’)

So, what about spending half as much as we usually would on family members this year, and, with the money saved, buy a goat (or similar) for those in need… and tell the family on Christmas Day? Or did you know that for £60 you can twin your toilet with one built in Burundi, for those who aren’t used to such luxuries (toilettwinning.org)?

If you’re feeling very ambitious and have time on our hands, then to make a present is a generous yet cheap idea: knit a scarf, bake a cake, paint a picture, compose a song, write a poem. Go on, I will if you will! It’s not illegal, we won’t get arrested, and, if we do something generous with the money we save by not splashing out, we’ll be making a difference to those in need, which can’t be bad.

Flickr photosource, thanks allerleirau