I realise that a lot of people are keen to give you advice. Whether you have asked for it or not (I’m specifically talking about me here and yes, I’m sorry for being bossy about the whole wearing black thing) but now we’ve reached the end (seriously, thank you so much for reading this) I’d like to share some advice that doesn’t come from me, but that has been passed down to me and has made a real difference. I try to follow all of this but of course, sometimes I’ve failed …
DO YOUR HOMEWORK
There are many phrases I remember from my childhood – ‘Go back to bed’, ‘They’re smaller than you so be nice’, ‘Turn that Duran Duran down’. But the main one is: ‘Do your homework’.
Always, always ‘Do your homework.’ Put in the time, use a highlighter if you need one (nothing takes me back to my finals more than a yellow Stabilo Boss) and get it done. Make notes, write an essay plan, work out what you’re going to say, find out what the teacher wants. ‘Go back upstairs Claud, and whatever you do, do your homework.’ It was a recurring joke. OK, Mum, we get it. Do it properly, read the question more than once, make it neat, basically – concentrate.
It stayed with me. If I am interviewing someone then I read everything they’ve ever said. If I am going to a work dinner I look up the people who are going to be there. Sometimes I’ve failed, I’ve decided to wing it and it’s always showed – I’ve flopped. When I haven’t read the book I’ve faltered, talked a lot about the font, mentioned the dedication and wavered. People can always tell.
We all try and make everything look effortless, we downplay what we’ve done – what, this old dress? I just scrabbled together what was left in the fridge. Yeah, liked the look of Cambridge so I applied, I fancied being a TV presenter so gave it a go and it just happened. But that’s not always the whole truth. Sometimes we need to pull our fingers out, sometimes it’s going to be hard going, sometimes it might even be a slog.
If I can pass on one thing, let it be this: you think you know enough? Go back and check, do your homework. Yes, I’ve tried to instil this in the kids and yes, they hate me.
BE A GEEK
People will say wearing glasses is undesirable. Having your hair tied up and being stuck in a book is distant, not very sociable. What’s wrong with her? She wants to be an engineer? Good god. Why doesn’t she put a nice dress on and get some contact lenses and come and chat with us? Why doesn’t she want a beer? She’s seventeen! What’s so interesting about chemistry anyway? You’d think she’d want to make the most of herself, get out there, meet some boys. She’s such a do-gooder, a real bookworm, shame. You must feel a bit disappointed.
I cannot say this strongly enough. Girls, listen to me when I tell you to nerd the fuck up. Do not be tempted by the ‘fun’ (you can have fun at Harvard or Oxford, or when you’re running Apple) but be a full-time weed, be bookish, be stand-offish and get lost in maths, in science, in literature. There’s nothing, absolutely nothing, wrong with being a geek. The nerdier the better. You don’t need glasses? Get some anyway. And braces too while we’re at it. The boys I met at sixteen thought I was a dork, a bore and not hip enough to be with them, they’d make fun of us for staying in and having hairy upper lips, thick frames and sensible rucksacks (yes, we religiously used both straps). That’s OK. They were, in many respects, bang on but me and my girls did alright in the end.
MANNERS MATTER
I’m not talking about dabbing your mouth with a napkin. I’m talking about saying please and thank you and writing notes. Sounds simple, sounds easy. Because I’m old you can take it from me, nobody forgets a thank-you text, a ‘It was lovely to see you, hope the meeting/date/weekend with the future in-laws goes OK.’ Everyone remembers a great message of support.
If you’re doing work experience along with a bunch of other young people and you’re the most polite it will get noticed. It sounds extremely old fashioned and can be time consuming but manners just are important. Thanks for explaining, please can I ask a question, a follow up note. Yes, yes I sound like your mother.
DON’T COMPARE AND CONTRAST
Evaluate sweaters, weigh up the differences between your local restaurants, check all the holidays on offer before you purchase. That’s good common sense.
But don’t compare yourself to humans. It’s a mantra I was taught early and am so grateful for it. They’ve got a better kitchen, her boss clearly admires her more as she’s getting a company car, they must be more in love because they held hands all night. They have a fully trained dog, why does ours jump up, eat all our socks and mount Grandma? It always leads to misery, it’s unfair (both on them and you) and, without being too dramatic, it ends today.
Of course they have a better kitchen, it’s made out of solid marble, FFS. Don’t stress. They’ll be prettier, cleverer too, and funnier (this one hurts the most) and they will be more in love. Be happy for them, life might not always go their way, something might be round the corner, so please don’t begrudge them the immaculately behaved miniature schnauzer, the great sex, the respect from their boss or the happiness. When they feel joy, feel it with them.
It’s just not sustainable to constantly worry about what everyone else is doing and if they’ve got it better. And if they do – maybe it’s genes, it’s luck, or perhaps it’s because they might just be … better. And that’s more than OK. You want to be good enough for your parents and your siblings and your partner and your friends and, if you have them, your kids. Everything else is just croutons. Don’t want somebody’s life, take full responsibility for your own.
Also, while we’re here maybe let’s spend a second on people who post their flawless life. Our real friends reveal all the good and the bad but there are others whose life looks just like a postcard, like a movie.
They’re doing a star jump on a beach, their kids are in matching seersucker cotton shirts with perfect scruffy hair and beaming smiles, their house looks just right. Their lunch is perfectly placed and looks both delicious and healthy (I have yet to believe this food exists but I remain optimistic).
Maybe their life isn’t necessarily better than yours, maybe they just choose to show you the best bits and filter out the rest. Why are they not just serving up fluffy pancakes topped with some homemade organic compote? That would be the thing to do, I reckon. Gather the kids and family together for movie night with personalised tartan blankets but then maybe just, you know, live it instead of posting it.
Know that if someone is constantly looking for validation, if they’re saying ‘Look at us, isn’t it great?’ well, it might not be great. I love social media but it took me a while to grasp this. Know that every great photo has been maybe taken three or four times. It’s not an accident she/he looks slim/is laughing/is holding the perfect glass of wine against the perfect backdrop. It’s not perfect as if it was perfect they wouldn’t have to stop to take a photo. Why isn’t living it simply enough, why would they want to show every minute, every avocado on toast, every view from their hotel window? I’m not saying they’re evil or are intentionally trying to make their friends jealous (that’s preposterous, we’re talking about grown-ups here) but it’s almost like if they haven’t captured it and shown it, maybe it didn’t happen?
Please remember a post is often, well, a boast. Your life is just as great. You managed to be at the zoo at the right time and saw the penguins being fed; he brought you a cup of coffee and ruffled your hair; she got a good mark in her biology even though she’s yet to fully grasp photosynthesis. Comparing and contrasting is excellent and useful for bars and coats and cat breeds – not cool for people. Wish them well (I hope he gets a raise, she should buy and wear that coat, am so happy their kids tan easily and play trombone) and be delighted for them.
MAKE THE TEA
I don’t care where you are in the company hierarchy, I don’t care if you’re Mark Zuckerberg. If you’re with people and hot drinks are going to be drunk, bloody make them. This is (apart from the others) my favourite bit of advice from my dad.
Don’t be uppity, don’t think, ‘Woo hoo now I have a PA, I won’t have to deal with the kettle!’ That’s ridiculous and pompous and your office will hate you (they will not say this to your face). Make a cup of tea for your PA too. ‘Hello Tom, hope you had a good weekend, I’m getting the coffees in, can I get you one?’
I’m not allowed to talk about people who have taken part in Strictly (I think) but I’d like to mention Ed Balls here. We always all meet for the first time on a day in August, that’s how it works – all the dancers and the celebrities taking part. We didn’t know anything about Ed at this point. We saw this man at the coffee station. ‘Can I interest anyone in a custard cream? Daisy, did you say two sugars?’ and we loved him from that day forward. He wasn’t doing it for show, he wasn’t, ‘Yes, I was the shadow chancellor, look at me being all normal.’ He just simply wanted to get everyone a warm drink. This continued throughout the series. Want a cup of tea? Ask Ed.
SAY AN EARLY NO
Hey, do you want to come to ours for a kitchen supper next month? (I can’t tell you how much I hate this phrase. Do other rooms have meals? Do people have bathroom brunches, hallway snacks?) Some new neighbours are coming round that we’ve just met and we’re only a 50-minute drive from you. Although if I’m honest it can be slightly longer if the A40 is bunged up. But we’d love to see you! Alex will make his special lamb surprise.
Wait. Hold on. Let’s screech to a halt. Before you reply, ‘Great, sounds lovely, 50 minutes is nothing, it’ll be a good chance for us to listen to that podcast we keep hearing about,’ let’s look into the future for a sec. You know now you won’t want to go, you know that at the beginning of that week, when you hit the diary app to see what you have planned, your heart will sink.
The day comes and you just can’t face it. You’re knackered, the house is a mess, you’ve got an early start tomorrow, you actually don’t like lamb and now you will have to make an excuse about work/babysitting problems/the ceiling falling in. So say no. Say no now. Sorry we can’t. You’re too far away. They won’t be angry (please never think you’re irreplaceable) and you’ll be so happy you don’t have to drive for an hour to eat a half lamb tagine/half lamb curry with a group of people you’ve never met before.
An Early No (capitalised to make my point) should be applauded. My mum taught me this when I was at university and a friend invited me to a computer science student weekend in Cardiff. It was going to be three days of discussing modems (it was definitely going to be more complicated than this but you get the gist). Now, complete nirvana if coding is your thing. I ummed and ahhed and said yes and then said maybe and finally, the night before, a no and actually our friendship never fully recovered. Basically I gave them the run-around and it was extremely annoying. Just because you’re asked to do something it doesn’t mean you have to say yes. Don’t think you’re letting them down with a no, know that you’re seriously letting them down with a no on the day.
NOTHING HAPPENS AFTER MIDNIGHT
You know those nights when you’re teetering between ‘Yeah, think it’s time to go’ and ‘OK then, one more drink’? I can tell you now that the first is a better option. Leave. Go. Vamoose. Jump on a bus, on a tube, in a car. You never regret leaving, you only regret staying. My mum always said, ‘Nothing that interesting happens after midnight,’ and she’s right. Definitely go, drink a couple of drinks, eat tacos, have a laugh but then escape and get tucked up. Otherwise it gets messy, you’re miles away from home and you’ll feel completely rubbish the next day.
If you’re under the age of 30 you must obviously ignore this message.
LOVE FIERCELY
Let it take a while when you meet someone. Be casual, be aloof, be busy. Be a bit ‘Yeah, I’ll check that date,’ rather than readily available. Don’t be ‘Call me any time’ and don’t always pick up the phone on the second ring. People will tell you this is game playing, that you should just be upfront and in love but I’m not interested in that. Not because I want him to be keener but just to protect yourself. Don’t go all in straight away. Be a little mysterious (I’m not suggesting a Hamburglar mask at this point) but have other stuff going on.
However, once you do decide to dive in then do it with passion. Envelop him, love him to bits, make him feel good and be kind. Love him with every bit of you. If he turns out to be a dick then, sorry (it happens), but at least you’ve given it everything.
As for the kids and the pets, tell them you love them till you’re hoarse. Don’t save it for special occasions – they’ll look bored with it, they’ll eye-roll, the teenager will grunt and might refuse to say it back but he’d miss it if it wasn’t there. Put the mugs away, I love you. Call me after your test, I love you. Don’t take drugs if they’re being passed around, I love you. That kind of shizz. Let it be your full stop.
CLAUD, IT’S NOT A COMPETITION
Right. This is the big lesson. The end of the conference wrap-up. This is the closing speech. We’ve all had a pleasant time (I hope) and now I’m handing out the party bags. So here we go.
It’s not a competition. It’s not a race. That’s it. That’s what I was told and that’s what I believe.
When we’re at school we’re applauded if we do well. We work and work and work and we get our grades and we fill out the UCAS form and hope for the best. Magically we do OK and then, again, we try and try and try. We don’t need to do spectacularly well (seriously, have you met the people who got firsts?) but we definitely need to pass.
Then there’s the race to get a job. Which one should I go for? Will I ever get a mortgage if I do that? Will I be able to go out with my credit card and, you know, pay a bill? Can I keep my head above water? Will I earn enough to move out of home and will I ever meet someone who I want to kiss more than twice?
Argh, I should be ovulating today – we’ll do it twice so it clicks and beds into my womb. They have a garden; we need a garden. They’re getting a kitten – quick, let’s get a prettier one.
It was a late lesson I’ll grant you, but this is the real biggie. Don’t compete. And here’s why. There are no medals. I know. It was a shock to me too. There just aren’t. You don’t turn 70 and get a knock on the door: ‘Hello, I believe you’ve done rather brilliantly in the whole life stakes. You got those window boxes up before your neighbours, you managed to keep that job for longer than everyone thought, you’re still reasonably slim for someone who loves macaroni cheese so much and well done on that breastfeeding! You’ve won. Do you mind following me as there’s a ceremony in Trafalgar Square? It starts at midday. You’re just after the man who made wonderful apple pies and before the woman who always walked the dog in the rain.’
Look, do the very best you can. Cuddle those you love, work hard but that marathon you think you’re running? It’s not there so just come off the track. I’ll repeat it (as a friend had to do for me). There. Is. No. Race. That finishing line is invisible, it’s just a figment of your imagination, so stop trying to reach it before the others. We’re here for five minutes; enjoy the view.