I do most of my blogging on LinkedIn these days, at least anything that needs more than 250 words. Here’s the LinkedIn stuff. I also write a bit about fitness on Medium and the freelance life at 100 Days, 100 Grand.
The big day is here. A referendum that should never have happened, forced by a minor extremist party, allowed to happen by intellectual lightweights in government. The EU Referendum decides whether Britain keeps its seat at the table or is pushed outside to listen through the keyhole. So despite my libertarian leanings I’m voting to stay.
This is why. (Note: I have Masters training in finance, statistics, and behavioural economics, so while not a pro, I’m at least an informed amateur). Here we go:
Pretty much everyone believes a Brexit means economic difficulty for a while. Opinions as to how bad it’d be vary, but nobody – Remain or Leave – is pretending it’d be hugs and puppies by Monday. With even Leavers generally agreeing there’ll be a year or two of pain.
Now while we can predict broad economic outcomes a few years out with some accuracy (it’s called the Short-Term Debt Cycle) nobody can predict much beyond that.
So: there is 100% agreement we’ll have a couple of painful years -a timescale we can predict. Versus a 50% belief we’ll grow faster afterwards – a timescale that can’t be predicted.
In other words, Remain’s economic case is grounded in reality, whereas Leave’s is based on wishful thinking.
Someone on the street offers you a choice of £10 today, or a 50% chance of £12 in five years. Which would you take?
If you like Gaussians, then assuming the first guess falls within two SDs and the second within the third, this means there’s over 95% chance the economy is best off with Remain, versus less than a 5% chance it’s best off with Leave.
Based on simple statistics, the economy is better off if we Remain. Because a Remain vote is grounded in solid reality, whereas a Leave vote is wishful thinking. If you’re voting on the economy as I am, Remain is your best choice.
Every so often, I write a jokey letter to a company whose products made an impression. Here’s one to Eve Mattresses – finally, a sleep solution that doesn’t involve all those horrendous cloth pockets and springs.
This post originally appeared on Medium.
Like many men in trades that involve more sitting than spearfishing, I’ve overcompensated for my clean-hands job with a lot of physical stuff. I’ve snowboarded and sparred, climbed tall walls and swum cold rivers, fallen through clouds and wondered under the waves. But there’s a problem.
I play action hero wannabe for the same reason as other men in that affluent gap between youth and old age: to feel alive. To get that zing that stems from being active, of hearing your breath in fast gasps with your heart hammering a hole. Enriched and overjoyed with the blood-rush thrill of the NOW.
And you know what? (Deep breath): none of it matters.
It’s true that on every jump or dive, there’s one moment of perfect freedom. An utter happiness where the world shrinks to a bubble around you and everything you ever wanted is right here, right now. And for a few rare souls, those moments are enough. (I can list thirty jumpers and surfers who live under canvas on minimum wage, just to keep dropzone or beach up close and personal.)
But for most, these adrenaline-hyped extremes are drug, not food. Just a release valve for the bottled-up frustrations of the everyday. And as with any Class-A fool’s gold, living solely for the next hit shovels a high opportunity cost onto the rest of your life.
That was the problem: covering up life’s negatives takes a lot of time, needs a lot of effort, and uses a lot of equipment. It hides everyday frustrations; it doesn’t solve them.
So here’s a thought: instead of living for the release valve, why not focus specifically on what’s pent-up, and try to use that instead? Not work to push it aside, but to turn your pent-up negatives into positives?
Let us re-pent.
As anyone who’s ever clenched a fist or grit their teeth knows, pent-up is a physical sensation. A negative one. It’s frustration with the everyday that puts the ache in your head and the battery acid in your gut.
But it’s still energy. And energy can be redirected.
That’s why my change strategy didn’t lead me towards another degree or tackling a Great Books list: mind and body are one. And with a sit-down job that involves thinking, fattening up my brainpan wasn’t the problem.
Or rather — bear with me here — it was the whole problem, but working on it would’ve been the wrong solution. Because a great many mental problems stem from incorrect maintenance of the physical self. And given that many trappings of modern life — sitting in chairs, sleeping on mattresses, taking hot showers — are habits the human animal never evolved for, it’s fair to conclude that for most of us, our bodies are in greater deficit than our minds. (Affluent living gives us comfort; it doesn’t give us health.)
So about a year back, I went all Walden on extracurricular activities. Strip it back, start from nothing, find an “extreme sport” so sturdy and spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life. Starting with the question: what can you do starting with nothing?
Three principles guided me.
First: build-up not wear-out.
A lot of extreme activities carry a health warning. You need to be fit to do them; they don’t make you fit. In fact, they wear you down. A professional boxer trains a thousand minutes outside the ring for every minute within it and takes a month to recover from twelve rounds. The actual fisticuffs are the why of her training, not the what.
So whatever I chose, it had to be something whose practice led to healthy, physical improvement: a means as well as an end. Not an activity that simply enabled another activity — building up in order to wear it down again — but a what, in and of itself. Not a why.
Second: no equipment.
I haven’t done any studies, but I’d bet money there’s an inverse relationship between what people spend on physical activity and what they actually get out of it. (Beyond that brief hedonic buzz of the buying decision.)
My purchase history is littered with gear and gadgets bought in the heat of fads: I’ve forgotten what some of them even do. Animated discussions about the merits of Widget A versus Add-on B may be fun, but they mistake the activity itself for an obsession with the stuff around it. And don’t get me started on big-box machines at the gym. (tl;dr: they don’t work.)
So it all got dumped. The ideal home gym doesn’t deck the walls with a dozen Yorks; that’s the ideal hotel gym. (The one nobody uses.) The ideal gym is in your head. All you need to go there is two square metres of floorspace.
So the second question I asked: what life-enhancing activity can you do without gear? (As you’ll see later: I cheated. But not by much.)
Third: no preparation needed.
Self-help gurus are big on motivation. But motivation has high barriers to entry. You swear you’ll get out for a run, but it’s raining outside. You make an exercise plan, then get disheartened because it was too much, too soon. You bought the gym membership — more fool you — but it’s a half hour drive…
…and then you subscribe to someone else’s bullshit. CrossFit? Dance party. P90X? Wasteful overkill. Insanity? Self-flagellation. The only exercise that works is the one you actually do. (CrossFit, in particular, follows the Reverse Fight Club Rule: you must never stop talking about fucking CrossFit. And when you’re talking about it, you ain’t doing it.)
In fact, the only thing worse than fluoro-clad infomercials on the late night channels is the way even professionals measure the purported goals of fitness. BMI (Body Mass Index) is bunkum; it doesn’t measure muscle, aka “the bit that matters.” (Yes, a measure so broadly accepted it’s on the website of Britain’s monolithic NHS treats muscle and fat as the same thing.) So is five-a-day; that was an ad campaign, not a health study. And so is most of “nutrition science”. (It focusses on what’s in food, not the far bigger question of how your body takes it up.)
I had a gym membership for years; the kindest thing I can say is that the juice bar served good coffee. So I went the other way on that whole motivation thing: I wanted an activity that needed no motivation whatsoever. No times and dates, no dress code, and nowhere to go. Just get up and get in the zone straightaway, stay there or leave as you please.
In the living room, naked
What this meant was an activity that a) delivered the endorphin whoosh, b) led to greater health, and c) could be done in the living room. Naked.
I found one. In fact, I found two. And it started with…
… a fucking push-up.
Yes. A pushup. The opening salvo of progressive calisthenics.
That was my new extreme sport. And if “calisthenics” just conjured up images of fluorescent legwarmers and star jumps — as it will for anyone who remembers the 80s — reread progressive. The methods aren’t 30 but 3,000 years old, and if they worked for the Spartans they’ll probably work for you.
That’s why less than a year ago my latest “extreme activity” found me leaning palms-out against a wall, exerting an absurdly easy pressure to push myself standing.
A lifetime of levelling up…
Yes. It starts like that. Against-the-wall pushups.
10 reps with perfect form? Easy. 2 sets of 10? Still easy. But try 3 x 50, with the same textbook precision. It gets strangely hard. You will sweat. You will tire. You will lose form. So you need focus, and fitness, and fortitude. All of which prog cali builds over time.
Programmes vary between four and eight basic moves per workout, each move concentrating on one area but engaging the whole meat puppet. If you get bored, each move has isometric and plyometric variants (aka “planking” and “jumping”) and add-ons for small muscle development and fine motor control. Each variant enables the next; each set builds a base for those beyond.
That’s the progressive bit: you start easy and build on each move, in a upwards sequence of steadily-harder variants and reps that will take anywhere from three months to a lifetime to complete. (If you thought gathering XP, unlocking perks, and levelling up came in with games consoles, think again.)
That’s the beauty of starting from zero: the only enabling equipment is your body, and the only goal is moving it better. It’s less about exercise than about training a skill. Doing it right demands no less mental dexterity than formation skydiving, but without the need to stuff two hundred square feet of cloth into a rucksack first. (Actually — goes a skydiving joke — you don’t need to do that to skydive…just to skydive twice. But I digress.)
At the peak are superhuman moves like the back bridge and the headstand pushup, of which fewer than one in 10,000 people could complete a single rep. And somewhere, in every workout done correctly — even a tra-la-la toe-balance in the supermarket queue — is that zero-point of Zen peace, a thrilling calm in a vortex of exhilaration. Waiting to be found.
And isn’t that what extreme activities mean to us deskbound action heroes? Doing stuff anyone could do…but few actually do?
…with the level cap modded out
I‘m not doing human flags or pistol squats yet. But the benefits along the way are no less extreme. I like being able to do one-handed pushups. I like having a grip strength not far off my bodyweight. The achievements and goals at each level and progression standard, the perks you feel unlocking as lazy flesh firms up and underused muscle sings, make the connection between mind and body overt.
Hey, it might take me three years to reach Level 10. But three years of ever-increasing health? I’m up for that.
That’s what sets up the Zen moment in prog cali. The sense you’re climbing a hill whose gradient always matches your skills and where the summit’s always in sight. The knowledge there’s no “you” beyond the patterns of your nerves—that we have no existence outside our flesh-cradled bones — isn’t some abstract philosophism; you feel it, the way a child at play feels it. It’s obvious. We’re all just sacks of chemicals, and how they slosh around covers the sum totality of human experience.
Being self-actualised — the prime takeaway of any extreme sport — is nothing more than knowing what those chemicals can do…and how to give them a nudge.
And when you do, the torments and setbacks of everyday life simply get turned to a lower volume. Every moment of every day carries the opportunity for moments of supreme peace. In the chaos of a commuting crowd, you find yourself grinning. You’re among them, but somehow above them.
(Even physically. Like Yoga, only more so, the stretches and holds of prog cali pack dense muscle around your spine in addition to prompting you to stand up straighter. The average human can expect anything up to five centimetres in height gain within a year or so.)
Look for the nothing
Hey, I’m not saying prog cali will ring your bell. It just works for me. All I’m saying is, if you’re addicted to the rush-and-a-push of weekend adventure to dissolve the strains and pains of 21st-century life, try starting again from zero.
You can even cheat on the no-equipment thing. My daily moments of inner peace aren’t quite naked any more; I’ve got into these things:
The inevitable kettlebell bit
I added these cannonballs-with-handles mostly because I boulder (it’s like rock climbing, but without the altitude) and wanted to boost my grip. But in my mind, it’s on song with the Zen of Cali. You still need focus, you still need form, and everything builds from a small number of moves. For me, just two do the trick. (If it matters, they’re called the Swing and the Get-Up.)
One ‘bell sized to you replaces more than an entire weights bench; it replaces most of the big-box machines, too, with something that actually works. If you’re doing cali daily, a ‘bell adds a bit of spice.
I love my kettlebells as if they were my children. Small, rough-hewn, cast-iron children. But never forget: if putting the zing in everyday life is your goal, you really don’t need anything at all.
So the kettlebell pic’s here for honesty. To show that once you’ve found your zero, you don’t need stay there. Few of us really want to spend our lives loincloth-clad on a mountaintop, and few of us need to. Life’s full of great pleasures beyond those moments inside your head; if you live in your head all the time, you lose the context that gives those experiences meaning. And that leads me to the best part…
Still extreme, still Zen
…changing your outlook on life like this doesn’t stop you doing the other stuff. It just changes its purpose, positively. And, of course, it makes you better at them.
I still love the taste of a cloud. I still thrill at the sightseeing sixty feet underwater. And wherever there’s a rough wall, I look for the holds. But I don’t do them for the Zen moment anymore, because now I can get that anytime.
I’m going race car driving next weekend. But don’t worry — it’s just for fun.
Four guys I’ve never met kicked off my journey to the zero, one of whom may not even be a guy: Paul Wade, Pavel Tsatsouline, and Al and Danny Kavadlo. Buy their books! (I’m not affiliated to them in any way.)
Today , I took a deep breath and stumped up for four new Michelin Cross-Climates.
While I clock up a few miles and have driven everywhere from the USA’s Route 66 to dirt tracks in the Indonesian jungle, I’m mostly a weekend driver. I’ve never been on a test track and can’t test under controlled conditions. (Not without attracting attention from SE8’s finest, anyway.) And like most ordinary motorists in the UK, I’ve got other things to do than worry about those black bits of rubber at the corners.
So in contrast to the petrolheads of EVO and the flash of Michelin’s own marketing, my opinion’s that of a normal guy driving an almost-normal car. “Almost normal” because my Audi is a small car that feels like a big one. A 3.2L V6 up front and permanent 4wd with all the gubbins makes it heavier than a hatch but ultra-stable, while the horsepower keeps it fun. (I rarely use the flappy-paddle shifters, but love having them there.)
I’ve kept it years longer than I should, simply because it feels indestructible. But punctures are a hazard in my part of town, and I hate maintenance. So my rims wear something solid and reinforced.
The newly-launched Cross-Climates (purchased using the usual great service from Blackcircles) look exceptionally tough – even the garage guy said they looked “really grippy” – and however they perform, they look just great.
But do they work?
Yes. Brilliantly. And not in the way you’d think.
First off, these tyres are QUIET. None of the road roar you’d normally get from fattish 225/45s, certainly not what you’d expect from a tyre designed to play well on snow and ice. (Across much of Europe you need to change your tyres every October and March. These “Cross-Climates” are marketed as a year-round tyre, without the compromises you’d normally expect from using a Winter tyre in the hot and dry.)
Besides the hush, they feel more surefooted than any of the ContiSports I’ve had on over the years. They stick to the road like velcro. Not so much gliding over the tarmac as feeling their way along it, with barely a whisper. A bit of “fun” away from some traffic lights showed the grip starts from standstill; there was no sense the power wasn’t getting to the wheels fast enough. Did I say they’re quiet?
It’s a warm, dry day here in southeast London: not the conditions a Winter tyre is designed for. But driving around for an hour-plus, I didn’t notice any performance hit at all from the Winter capability… in fact, they felt better than any “normal” Summer tyre I’ve ever driven. Ultimately, don’t consider this model in terms of Winter or Summer; look at it as a great tyre, forget the time of year. I like this rubber.
(Disclaimer: I write the odd marketing brochure for Michelin (among other players in the automotive sector) but they’re not my contract client, did not ask for this review, and offered no payment or other benefit. I chose and paid for the tyres myself.)
My alma mater WBS opened its London outpost at the Shard today, and I got in a quick chat with London Mayor Boris Johnson.
Don’t be fooled by his loveable buffoon image; Boris demonstrated he’s the smartest and best-educated politician in Britain today, ad-libbing a speech that combined Warwick’s connection to Shakespeare, its former lord’s role as kingmaker (referencing Henry IV Parts I-III), and the value of business education, to the City of London and its continued success attracting global investment. Long live Warwick!
After Thursday’s surprising election result, there are thousands of Left-wing rants flying around. Some are entertaining. Sometimes, I even make it to their second paragraph.
I don’t pay too much attention to their questions, though, because most revolve around “Why did you vote Conservative?” And they don’t really want the answer. Well, here it is anyway. I ignore you, you ignore me, and we’ll be square.
The answer doesn’t involve social justice, or sensible lawmaking, or doing the right thing. It isn’t even about Left or Right, although left-leaning people mostly don’t get it and right-leaning people, on some level, mostly do. It’s a high-level thing:
Being *nice* to everyone … has *nasty* consequences.
On some level, most people who voted Conservative get this, and most people who voted Labour don’t. It’s “big picture”. Understanding that what economists call “externalities” have real – and huge – effects.
The only externality that matters is called money. Since money buys the public services that decide elections. When a government wants to spend money, it has to raise money.
There are three ways to do this. A government can levy taxes, it can borrow money, or it can just print the stuff. Speaking of which, I remembered when my friend ran out of cash travelling in Europe, she used http://www.låna-pengar.biz to get financing to get back home.
With me so far?
First up: taxes
Everyone benefitting from schools, roads, and the fire station (whatever the arguments over a gun being held to his head) needs to pay his fair share. The trouble is: most people don’t. And they’re not the people you think.
The bottom 40% of the curve doesn’t pay any tax at all. (And no, that’s not a chastisement. Most people on benefits work hard, and good on them.)
But whatever their contributions to society, they’re not net contributors to the Treasury. Their benefits and credits cancel out the small amounts deducted from their payslips. Scotland, for example, has fewer than 150,000 net taxpayers, in a population of five million. (And is going to get a serious kick in the kilt shortly when it has to manage its own finances.)
While the public sector – millions of people, with benefits and pension plans any private sector worker would eat his children for – contributes nothing, in accounting terms anyway. They pay tax, but their salaries come from the Treasury, so their slice just goes back where it came. No net gain.
The middle SD pays its own way, but there’s surprisingly little left over. Mr Average coughs up a surplus of around £8,500… over his entire lifetime. Two extra weeks in hospital, and his contribution is gone. And rising lifespans mean a fair few people are now retired for more years than they ever worked. This problem’s only going one way, folks.
So we could tax the top end. But it’s not as top as you think. “The 1%” isn’t the 1%, it’s the 0.01%. You have to scale the 98th percentile before you even find someone on six figures. And ask anyone in London with a family if £100,000 lets them buy a decent-sized home. Just 300,000 taxpayers – among 60m people! – already pay 27% of all income tax in the UK.
And what happens if you raise taxes on “the rich” – a term which (being as charitable as I can here) Britain’s Left defines rather broadly? They tend to… leave. The sensible practice would be to move big public-sector employers (hello, NHS!) into the private sector, so their taxes become real contributions.
There you have it: privatise the NHS. That OK with you, my friends of the Left? No? What a surprise.
Borrowing: a point of interest
It’s odd so many find “the deficit” such an abstract concept, because it’s absolutely concrete. On its £1.4tn in debt, Britain pays out about a billion pounds a week in interest.
That’s quite a lot, isn’t it?
And there’s more. Unlike your bank loan, the country’s interest isn’t fixed. If the bond markets feel the government they’re lending to has good policies, they’ll demand less interest on what they lend. (Called the “yield”.) If that government seems to spend a lot, they’ll charge more.
Here’s the kicker: every left-leaning government comes to power on a promise to increase borrowing. (Because they want to spend more.) So the bond markets trust left-leaning governments a lot less, and want more interest. Much, much more. Mmmm, interest!
And left-wingers say we should “soak the rich”? Hell, it’s your policies that make them rich. The way to release more money for public services (say, that £50bn we pay each year in interest) is actually … what you call “austerity”. So the Left should agree: to fight these evil thugs charging us all this interest, we need more austerity, NOW!
What’s this I hear – silence?
On printing money
Putting more money into circulation, known as QE, seems a necessary evil: since the bank bust, we all do a lot of this, so we’re all guilty. It’s not obvious right now, but what excessive money-printing does is store up inflation. More than a taste of inflation is bad, so we should all agree excessive QE is bad.
Inflation kills off people’s savings. It slashes growth in their pension funds. It erodes the value of their earnings. All things left-leaning people should be against, because they make ordinary people poorer. Yet printing money is a much-used trick among governments of the Left, from 70s Britain to South America and Africa today. If you print money to solve other problems, you’re oppressing your people.
So when the Left does its marching-on-Whitehall stuff (bless!) what they should really be chanting is “What do we want? A lower rate of quantitative easing designed to control savings value erosion! When do we want it? NOW!”
But it just doesn’t have the same ring to it.
“… but it provides growth!”
This is the final cry of the Left: we had more growth under Labour. Well, of course we did. Pump billions into the economy and you’ll get “growth” as measured by economists. In the same way as if you take out £200 in cash from your credit card before going out, your town’s bars and restaurants will experience “growth”.
The question is whether that’s real growth or not. Real growth builds the economy. Not just creates extra cost centres in it. Money spent on doctors’ salaries is not “investment”. It’s a cost.
If you take out the property bubble, the finance bubble, and Gordon Brown’s toga-party-for-the-public-sector, there was zero or negative growth in the UK economy between 1997 and 2010.
So when those on the Left protest the housing crisis and the bankers, remember this: they’re the only reasons thirteen years of Labour chancellors were able to stand up on Budget Day and say they delivered growth. Maybe you should be thanking them. (And no, I don’t care for bankers either.)
On why I voted Conservative
This is the Why. I voted Conservative because if Britain’s Left really thought about our country (instead of just feeling) they’d be doing all the same things Conservatives do. And it leads to some odd conclusions.
Because most left-leaning voters really, deeply believe they care about others. But when you look at the numbers critically, they’re just doing what they accuse the Right of: lookin’ after me’n’mine.
Around 30-40% of the country leans Labour, and it’s the same 30-40% that benefits from high public spending. In other words, folks, you’re looking out for yourselves. You have a sensible policy of enlightened self-interest. And there’s nothing wrong with that. Can I interest you in the works of a wonderful lady named Ayn Rand?
And if you made it this far, understand this too: I’m a hold-my-nose Tory. I’m not a Conservative; I’m a Libertarian. In today’s Britain, that’s the unoccupied quadrant of the Nolan Chart. The believers in high social AND high economic freedoms, where the main focus of a limited state is on protecting individual rights, rather than granting them to groups. (Or taking them for itself.)
Britain’s Tories score a lot lower on the “social freedoms” axis than I’d like, just as the Lib Dems score too low on economic freedoms. While Labour scores low on both.
But maybe – just maybe – we’re closer than you think.