All at sea with sunfish

Joe shows us how it's done

I have written a serious piece on the potential of public sector spin-outs to do more than just achieve economies of scale but before I post that, I though you might like to see what I was up to this glorious weekend.

Anticipating tropical, sapphire seas, we thought we'd have another go fishing from our little boat and so the whole family made a mad dash down to Cornwall on Friday night. Hitting Cornish air is like being hit with a fat, feather duvet – it knocks you off your feet and into a state of relaxation like nothing I have ever known. Is it the oxygen? The ozone? The people, all of whom seem relaxed and deeply philosophical?

Katie gets to grips with fishing

In any event, even at a short burst, Port Isaac had the effect of calming back-to-school, job-seeking nerves and putting a very big smile on all our faces.

The trip took in some fantastic highlights like a secluded beach with a spectacular waterfall and huge basking fish that we later learnt were sunfish, which can grow to 4 metres, are the largest bony fish in the sea and are brought to Cornwall from more tropical waters on the current.

Sunfish in Falmouth 

In ignorance and because I loved their floppy shark-like impersonations I dubbed them, for the duration of our trip, hi-there! fish, as they appeared to be waving at us. At roughly a meter long they were really impressive, and so unlike anything I had seen outside the tropics before. We all got very excited, although like everyone else in that part of the world they seemed relaxed by contrast.

Sam, our helmsman, asked me in that charming way that 14-year-olds do, if I was on something, as I laughed like a drain all afternoon. No, I replied, just having fun and if you could have seen Katie's fantastically eccentric yet successful method of fishing, you would have laughed too.


Saturday night saw mackerel a plenty, a drink with neighbours and deep, deep sleep. You never know: I might just get used to this boating lark.

On the joys of moving and rats

This week we have been mostly moving. It's an experience people usually find stressful but I managed to add to the excitement by developing a juicy chest infection that probably contributed to the rolling migraines. Oh and then of course within the week, we moved twice and met a rat called George.

The plan was a simple one: sell our house, downsize in London (to a house cunningly situated opposite my allotment) and gain a foothold in our beloved Cornwall. As both transactions converged we needed to move in London and to Cornwall in rapid succession.

I was looking forward to it and like an obsessional nut had planned everything into a cocked hat. But sadly as the day dawned, not only was I struggling to breathe, a migraine had me in its grip. Thankfully moving in our family is a team sport, so Hubbie and my sister took over at both ends to manage our withdrawal and arrival, assisted by nephew, Will and our three. I co-oped the first sofa to come off the truck and made it my base camp. My sister Sue, who should probably be running the country, crowned her house-moving reputation by producing a homemade lasagne with all the trimmings that included lemon drizzle cake for our first meal. I have known Sue all my life so should not be surprised, but it was still lovely and yummy and very clever.

Cornwall came a few days later and here the children were helpful with just a couple of breakages as we unpacked in the world's smallest but quite simply, loveliest cottage. It felt right and the reception we had from friends who live down there, especially my friend Emily - the brilliant restauranteur - made the move all the more special.  A few days of sea air and log fires and I did feel better, but am now back in London and it's all about breathing.

In our new home, we are very happy but the chest infection is, as might have been predicted, in full swing despite three courses of antibiotics, added to which no-one can find knickers, shoes, T-shirts, toilet roll etc. despite my best efforts. We have builders banging something as I write (sorry new, nice neighbours), who have managed to get the heating on after days of no hot water or warmth, quite key when you can't control your body temperature. Oh, and tomorrow, joy of joys, the rat catcher is due.

We need a rat catcher because along with many wonderful housewarming messages and gifts, our reception in our new home in London was enhanced by the biggest, furriest rat you have ever seen, who I swear keeps smiling at me. We have named him George, which is confusing as that is also the name of our electrician, and while we have been marvelling at his tree-climbing and trap-dodging skills (the rat not the electrician) I would rather be looking at his immobile corpse. Roll on the professionals, and has anyone seen the string?

It's behind you!

The family and I went to the pantomime last night to take in the usual excellent treatment of Cinderella, staged at our local Richmond theatre, complete with some outstandingly camp ugly sisters, an ebullient Buttons given to us by the consummate professional, Gary Wilmot, a menapausal fairy played by Jenny Eclair and dodgy  prince charming who was more your choir master than dashing rake. Panto is curious, no matter how old or cynical you are it 'drags' you along until you are shouting out with the rest in an almost uniquely British way. The combination of racy jokes, slap-stick humour and sexual confusion is so British, the only incongruous element is the happy ending.

As the audience bellowed a warning to the ugly sisters, played to spectacular effect by Graham Hoadly and Paul Burnham, to "Look behind you!!", whilst they walked about in ignorance, I thought about the Government. Social enterprise is not only a quick win, but as another great quasi British innovation it has solved some of societies most dramatic, painful and costly problems and is right there for the taking on an unprecedented scale. Let's hope they don't walk off the stage without it just because they couldn't or wouldn't heed joe publics warnings from the cheap seats. If they do, I fear for our happy ending.

2011 is not a year many will be sorry to see the back of. We are told that 2012 is going to be harder still, with only the Olympics to look forward to for light relief. But for now I'm all for thinking about crossing that bridge when we get to it and  focussing on the holidays.

The Ogden-Newton's are doing something we have never done before which is to run away. We aren't going far, Cornwall, but if friends and family asking often over the last few days when our usual entertaining Christmas marathon is due to kick off, we are about to disappoint more than a couple of folk with our nuclear option.

Nonetheless  Hubbie and I decided that the five of us would go it alone, with only a few friends dropping by to celebrate and share a surf on Christmas Day, I can't wait.  I have always been very keen on the concept of Christmas as an event which brings community and extended family together but the sweaty heap I end up in at the end has made me think again. At least for this year.

Having said that we have invited family over today for a pre-Christmas lunch which should be jolly and the kids and I have decorated the house, made mince pies, iced the Christmas cake and Katie my eleven year old has made the most stunning chocolate log from scratch and entirely on her own, amazing, truly amazing!

So in many ways we are having our cake and eating it too. Family extravaganza today then off on Friday for a log fire, pyjama fest of mulled wine, Quality Street, some nice little cheesy crackery things, endless games of scrabble and chess and no phone reception, bliss!

My view is we need to refuel the batteries so we can hit 2012 hard! If the coming year isn't going to be easy our job is to have some fun this Christmas. Oh yes it is I hear you cry, Oh no it isn't! Oh for heaven's sake.

The field of dreams and allotment fishing: who knew?

Sunny side up

Sunflowers are like the human spirit: they thrive with the warmth of the sun's benevolence and they follow the light with steadfast optimism.

Happy New Year! 2011 is going to be a wee bugger

New Year finds me clear headed in Cornwall. Last night we were invited by my friend Emily Scott to her fabulous restaurant, The Harbour, in Port Isaac. Emily is a stunning chef and last night she really treated us. We had red onion jam and goats cheese tartlets, locally caught crab in a light salad, monkfish in pancetta with lemon mash and pannacotta and raspberries followd by chocolate truffles, yum! The village gathered outside the restaurant which is at the head of the slipway for some super fireworks and a male (nude) swimmming race across the harbour which the health and safety police have not been able to put a stop to, yet. This morning I have awoken to views of the surrounding countryside, including an unbelievably large cow.

Scanning Twitter I see many are posting their predictions for 2011, whilst I'm tempted to join in, I think it will be a bugger of a year with much rear guard action and can only advise we keep our spirits and left hook up, and not pull our punches as my dear old Dad used to say.

I was over the moon yesterday when the announcement came that my friend Stephen Bubb, ceo of acevo, was to be made Sir Stephen. As Vice Chair of acevo I have had the chance to work closely with Stephen who is a very rare bird indeed. Whilst he cultivates a persona based on hedonism he is, in fact, like a swan, frantically paddling under the water to promote and these days, preserve all that is best in the third sector. I have always admired his approach which, if you are a fan or irony, which I am, is self deprecating. In any event, Stephen is bloody effective and a good laugh, so well done to you dear and the team at acevo who, like my SEL lovelies, work like stink for the sector!

Other honours included OBE's for SEL board member Gordon D'Silva, founder and leading light behind the ground breaking Training for Life, and Steve Wyler, Director at our old friends the Development Trust Association. It will be organisations like Training for Life, the DTA and Community Links, featured in a shattering article by Patrick Butler in last weeks Guardian, that will be picking up the pieces of the cuts. I could not believe my eyes when I read the piece, much of it in the words of David Robinson, one of the most respected leaders of community work anywhere in the world. He told us that this beacon of good practice, much needed in such trying times, was itself facing closure. That can only mean one thing, no institution, group or icon is above the waterline.

So, when the going gets tough the tough get going? Well yes, but many of us don't work for the tough, we represent society's least heard, least valued and most vulnerable, so that isn't terribly helpful. We shall all need this break, like boxers we have gone to our corners for some refreshment, and when the bell sounds we will have to come out fighting!

Not you again

Hitting the surf today in Cornwall I had an Enfield encounter. Coming in on a wave I near collided with Harry Enfield which was odd as a few months ago I trod on the hand of the same man at a rug sale in Notting Hill. Funny colliding again so soon after that difficult social situation, if this was a film, that would mean something, but it isn’t, so it doesn’t.

What does mean something is the anger felt in these parts about the electoral boundary changes. Adding a slice of Devon to the Cornish bit is like adding parts of Northumberland to Scotland and hoping the Scots don’t notice. The issue is that the Cornish are not English, they're no fans of the English and only the English don’t notice the confusion. That is not to say that they won’t fight on the English side or risk their lives every day to save Englishmen who don’t know how to sail their yachts or even befriend individual English folk, but the point is in these parts you are either Cornish or English, not both. So if we really believe in Big Society shouldn’t these things that matter to Communities matter to Government? Does local matter? If it does do communities get to self select or are we going to tell people which communities they belong to? How silly, and in these parts, frankly dangerous.

And relax....

Stricken by trench foot we have struck camp, and made for the Cornish cottage where we've stayed for the last ten years. As we rolled off the campsite with 3ft of clobber bungeed onto the roof and boot I cheerfully commented to a silent car, that I for one thought the camping part of our trip was a great success. Why is it being a mother automatically casts you in the role of insanely cheerful narrator? It combines the presentation skills of a children's TV presenter with the selective memory of the village drunk.

Moving a few miles up the coast we are now enjoying hot running water and spectacular views (see above). The kids are giddy with the joy of familarity. As Katie said, she loves it here because nothing changes. Unlike the government, which seems to be in overdrive. I read today about the proposed changes to housing entitlement and benefit which struck me as relatively sensible if they were accompanied by 2 further measures: investment in jobs and affordable childcare. Incentivising people off benefits only works if they have jobs to go to, and women, the disproportionate providers of childcare can only work if they can access childcare that fits around their working day and costs significantly less than they earn after tax.

When I was on the last government's Women's Enterprise Taskforce I went on and on about this, and no one seemed keen. The truth is that affordable childcare has never been addressed in this country and until it is, no matter what you do to people's benefits, women will not be able to work in significant numbers, especially those on low incomes.

Brushing up on the 80/20 rule

The great thing about taking time off is finding perspective. I've been in our beloved Cornwall this week, enjoying my family and slowing down. Having time means you can, if you choose, do things properly. Like for instance, learning more about the 80 20 rule, where 20 per cent of effort yields 80 of results. That's certainly true of surfing. We have been blessed with great weather and great surf this week, attracting some serious surfers. It's been quite a show.

Sam watching his heroes surfing

I have also had time to read the FT from cover to cover picking up on a superb article yesterday on sustainable banking. We heard from our own Peter Blom MD at Triodos applauding the rise of some banks thinking in this area but cautioning us that post crisis many are still too busy picking up the pieces to 'think about ethics'. Putting paid to risky business has to be what the next decade is about. When oil companies and banks risk our natural and financial assets in pursuit of their profit we have to be less trusting and ask more questions. Peter feels that the return on investment banks can yield from their products should not exceed the growth of the economies they are operating in. He and others such as Andrew Cave, head of corporate sustainablility at RBS believe this is trully sustainable. It all goes back to the old saying that if it looks too good, it probably is. Hence allowing some derivitives to rerturn 25 or even 30% in economies growing at 3% was blind greed.

So have the scales fallen from our eyes? The problem is that so few humanists, enviromentalists or historians make it as far as the board room. Faced with the ruddy complexion of the money buisness, most opt for the quiet life. The city would call that the survival of the fittest, I'm not so sure. That's why I believe social enterprise and the new social contracts held within our world, have to be the future. We play to win, but not at any cost. That means changing the rules at times, like specialist finance, knowledge and support.

Doing our bit, I hope you are as thrilled with the new sel home page as we are. Its great to get such fab feedback from members. Our aim is to make sure that if you only have time to look at one social enterprise source each day, you will use SEL's because it will round up all the news, information and live chat you need. So for say, with 20 per cent of the effort you get 80 per cent of the info. I have to say, it's also great to see the SEL gang getting on to such effect in my absence. Maybe if I stay on this beach a while longer I won't be missed?

Happy Birthday Sam!

So the day started at 06:45 with Sam sitting on my head casually wondering out loud where his presents might be.Then an orgy of paper and boxes ensued as he opened a pretty impressive number of train set pieces. We majored on Hornby this year at his request, as its his passion, right up there with all water sports, judo, music and brother-baiting.

One of his gifts was a Tag game with hand guns, and chest plates. Thanks Auntie Jo! Try being in a caravan with adolescent boys armed and squealing, not pretty. The day has perked with this spectacular view over Padstow harbour.

Out there somewhere two boys are riding the waves. I told their instructor to only bring them in when they are exhausted so the rest of us have dug in to read the papers and drink hot chocolate.

Joe and Sam, post waterskiing

So Gordon's done it. We are under starters orders and off. The next few weeks will be lively for a hack like me, but for now it all seems a million miles away, as it does for the Cornish to be honest.