WHAT REALLY HAPPENED AT STATIONERY CLUB

I’ve already written about what happened at Stationery Club, but there are still a couple more things I wanted to say on the subject.

As I mentioned in the very first Stationery Club post, the idea came from @wowser creating the #stationeryclub hashtag on Twitter and me deciding it would be nice to turn it into an actual, real-life club. I bashed out the original post without really giving it much thought, and indeed organised the whole thing without really trying to ensure all of the details were in place. I thought if I spent too long making sure everything was right before announcing it, I’d never actually do it. This way, I committed myself and couldn’t back out.

And so, yes, there are certain things I’d change and will change for next time. Although quite a few people bought and used the Stabilo Bionic Worker, it was perhaps a bit optimistic to hope that everyone who turned up would be interested in talking about the virtues of a single pen for about two hours. Next time, I think the discussion should have a wider focus. “Notebooks” was suggested as a possible topic (Moleskine vs Silvine; plain vs ruled vs squared; spiral bound vs stitched vs stapled).

The choice of venue was based largely on the fact that it’s round the corner from where I work and usually isn’t too busy. It turned out perhaps Thursday wasn’t a great night to pick, and actually, it was a bit busy. So busy in fact, I had to send an emergency tweet telling people to go upstairs (apologies to anyone who turned up, couldn’t see us and left, we were upstairs. Next time, use a bit of initiative).

I genuinely had no idea how many people were coming and sort of expected around half a dozen. Eight at a push. The fact that twenty lovely people turned up meant it was a bit difficult to hear what people were saying; had we the whole room to ourselves (and a gavel), it might have been easier to conduct the meeting. Next time I might book a room somewhere.

There are lessons to be learned and changes to be made, But I’m glad I did it.

I’m looking forward to Stationery Club No.2.

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WHAT HAPPENED AT STATIONERY CLUB

Well, after not a great deal of anticipation and very little planning, Stationery Club happened. About twenty people turned up, which was about twenty more than I was expecting, so a good result I feel.

The pen up for discussion was the Stabilo Bionic Worker, and I wrote out some questions in my brand new exercise book in preparation:

The Stabilo Bionic Worker is a rollerball, and so the first question I asked was whether people prefer rollerballs to ballpoints, fountain pens or gel pens. This inspired some furious debate with various pen types being described as “scritchy”, which I am assured is a word. Biros were largely criticised, although alternative uses were suggested for them ranging from fake cigarettes for people trying to quit smoking to near-fatal weaponry.

Despite being available in “the four most commonly used colors”, Ryman seem to take a Henry Ford approach to stocking Bionic Workers, with people struggling to find one in any colour other than black. This is not a major problem for me, as I’ve mentioned before, my natural preference is for black ink:

It was also around this time that I switched to black ink. It seemed like a more logical partner for a sheet of white paper. Black and white. Like the words on this page, like the words in a newspaper, a book, pretty much any written material. It added authority to my words, words which needed authority as they had none of their own.

Stabilo claim that the orange rubber casing “brings an end to uniform grey and blue pens in the office”, however, people didn’t seem particularly keen on the colour:

Also, it was pointed out that orange is quite a common colour for pens. Both Bic and Staedtler use orange for their fine line ballpoint pens. A point illustrated by this classic TV advert from Portugal:

I tried singing the song in the pub, but I don’t think I really did it justice.

As a final word on the Bionic Worker, I asked the killer question:

And the verdict of the first ever stationery club was: NOT SURE.

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STATIONERY CLUB DETAILS ANNOUNCED

It is the moment you have all been waiting for.

The first ever Stationery Club event will take place on THURSDAY 4^th FEBRUARY 2010 at 7pm in the back room of the HORSE AND GROOM on Great Portland Street.

This is the basic concept of Stationery Club:

I see Stationery Club as similar to a book club. People in a pub and rather than everyone discussing the book they have just read, they discuss the pen they have used. It wouldn’t always need to be a pen, of course, it might be index markers, or a mechanical pencil, or a new type of paper clip. The point is, before each meeting, one member would nominate a piece of stationery, and then all the other members would use it for a week or so and then it would be discussed by the group.

The item of stationery to be discussed at the first Stationery Club is the STABILO BIONIC WORKER:

According to the Stabilo website, the Bionic Worker is “the tool for hard work” and is aimed at “frequent and professional users with particularly high requirements”. But does it live up to the job? This is the question we will be addressing at Stationery Club.

Stabilo describe the Bionic Worker as a “high-quality rollerball with nickel silver tip for an extremely smooth feeling when writing” and features “the latest bionic liquid ink technology”. They even go so far as to claim the tip of the pen is “indestructible”. Feel free to test this claim to the limit.

The orange rubber non-slip coating apparently “brings an end to uniform grey and blue pens in the office”. It may well be a change from the norm, but is it a welcome change?

The pen is available in black, blue, green and red from Ryman (and other stationery retailers). I paid £2.19.

Of course, the discussion won’t be limited to the Bionic Worker, there is so much more to talk about. Feel free to bring any other items of stationery you want to talk about.

I hope to see you there.

STATIONERY CLUB
Thursday 4th February 2010, 7pm
Horse & Groom
128 Great Portland Street
London W1W 6PX map

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CHARLES UNWIN: PART TWO – CONTACT

Back in November, I wrote about a private pilgrimage I made to a house in Camden. I went there after buying a book called Short Letter, Long Farewell by Peter Handke from a secondhand bookshop on Berwick Street. Inside the front cover, written in pencil, I saw the following:

I went to 9a Regent’s Park Terrace.

I wondered who Charles Unwin was. He had once owned this very same book I now owned. We had an odd kind of connection. Something which had once been in his house, in his hands, was now in my house, in my hands.

Just after Christmas, someone called Ian Rowbotham left a comment saying:

I know exactly who this person is. I don’t think I should write anymore for now, save to say he is a great reader and buyer of second hand books. I have been dragged into several antiquarian booksellers’ over the years, and been the grateful recipient of many an intriguing, if tatty, volume.

I emailed Ian and asked if he’d mind forwarding my details on to Charles Unwin. Very kindly, Ian agreed to speak to him and gave me Charles’ email address. I sent Charles an email, including a link to the original blog post and asking if he remembered buying the book originally. I received the following reply:

Dear James,

I bought the book from Smith’s, a large secondhand bookshop in Reading. So, I was almost certainly not the first owner. I imagine I bought it during the second half of 1980. I tended to write my address in books at the time, partly because I often left them behind on public transport never to see them again.

I have to confess that I never read the book. After having kept it for 20 years without even looking at the first sentence, I thought I was unlikely ever to read it, so I took it to a charity shop. I have no recollection of Siroco’s or Parikia – that card was probably inserted by a subsequent owner.

You are silent on whether you have read the book yourself – ideally, I think, it should have been owned by several people, none of whom got beyond Page 1.

I hope this is helpful. Good luck in your attempts, if any, to track down the other former owners.

Regards,

Charles Unwin

And so it seems my imagined biography of the book was almost completely wrong. Charles Unwin wasn’t the first person to own it, he never went to Parikia. Charles never even read the book. There are still some unanswered questions though. Which charity shop did Charles take the book to, roughly twenty years after he originally bought it? Was it an Imperial Cancer Research shop? And how did Ian Rowbotham find my blog anyway?

I like Charles’ idea of a book owned by lots of different people, but never read by any of them, although I feel slightly guilty because not only have I read the book, I’ve actually read it two and a half times.

I read it originally back when I first bought it; in a slightly confused, feverish state. Then, in November I started reading it again and when I was about halfway through, I noticed the inscription on the inside front cover. I decided to go to 9a Regent’s Park Terrace. Having decided to do this, I went back to the beginning of the book and wanted to see if there was some way of tying the plot together with this idea of mine. But in the end, I hardly mentioned the content of the book itself.

I recently read 84 Charing Cross Road by Helene Hanff. I thought what she says here is lovely:

I wish you hadn’t been so over-courteous about putting the inscription on a card instead of on the flyleaf. It’s the bookseller coming out in you all, you were afraid you’d decrease its value. You would have increased it for the present owner. (And possibly for the future owner. I love inscriptions on flyleaves and notes in margins, I like the comradely sense of turning pages someone else turned, and reading passages some one long gone has called my attention to.)

And although Charles Unwin never actually turned the pages or called my attention to any particular passages, his inscription (however functional it may be) increased the value of this book, for me at least.

It’s a good book, Charles. I can lend you a copy if you want.

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PLANNING STATIONERY CLUB

I mentioned the other day that I am setting up a Stationery Club. I’d had the idea in my head for a while, ever since @wowser introduced me to the hashtag, but now it’s an actual thing. Now I have to do it.

I haven’t quite worked out of all the details yet. Still haven’t found a venue, or picked a date. I’m thinking of the first week of February, after payday. I have no idea how many people (if any) will actually turn up, so I don’t want to book a room in a pub in case no-one comes. At the same time, I don’t want a pub which is too busy in case lots of people suddenly appear brandishing ball points and fountain pens. It’s tricky.

And then there’s the night itself. How will that work? As I said before, I imagine it as like a book club but about stationery. Except, I have never actually been to a book club, so only have a vague idea of how they work. I looked on Google for information on how to run a book club. I found this.

1. Get together a core group – It is much easier to start a book club with two or three people who already have some connection. Ask around the office, play groups, or your church or civic organizations. Sometimes you might find enough people to start a book club right away.

I tried asking around in play groups to see if anyone want to come and join my club, but that didn’t work out too well. I am using Twitter and this blog instead.

2. Set a regular meeting time – An ideal size for a book club is 8 – 11 people. As you can imagine, it is often difficult to coordinate that many schedules. Go ahead and set a regular meeting time and date for your book club with your core group…By setting the time before advertising the book club, you avoid playing favorites when working around schedules and are up front about what commitment is required.

I think 8 – 11 people is perhaps a bit ambitious. It’s something to aim for though. I have possibly made an error by mentioning the club before deciding on a date and time. I just need to be more decisive.

3. Advertise your book club - The best advertising is often word of mouth. If you have a core group of three, and you each know two people who want to join, then all you have to do to start a book club is ask these people. This is a good way to meet friends of friends. If your core group doesn’t know of other people to ask, then advertise in your circles of interest (school, work, church) with fliers or announcements. There are often also places to post fliers at the library, book stores and cafes.

I’m going to scribble a note on the test pads in Ryman. Are they even called “test pads”?

4. Establish ground rules - Get together with your potential book club members and set the group’s ground rules. (You might want everyone’s input; however, if you have set ideas of what you want, then set the rules with your core group and announce them at this first meeting). The ground rules should include how books are chosen, who hosts, who leads discussions and what kind of commitment is expected. If you did not set the meeting time with your core group, do that now.

I like how they give you the option of asking for the input of all the members, or being a bastard and setting all the grounds yourself, then organising a meeting to announce them. I am going to be a bastard, I think.

5. Meet – Set a schedule for the first few months and start meeting. If the book club is small at first, don’t worry about it. Invite people as you go. Some people will be more likely to join an already established book club because they feel less pressure than they would as a founding member.

I imagine that a lot of people would want to come to Stationery Club, but are nervous, timid types. Not everyone can be a visionary, a pioneer, like me.

6. Keep meeting and inviting people – Even if your book club is an ideal size, from time to time you’ll have the chance to invite new people as other members move away or drop out. Don’t be discouraged if you lose members. People’s schedules and commitments change. Hopefully you’ll always have a core group, and together you can reload.

That last sentence sounds a bit weird, but I think I understand what they mean.

All in all, that article wasn’t very helpful.

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EFFORT

There is a theory, a modification of the Pareto principle, which states that it is possible to achieve eighty per cent of your desired results with only twenty per cent of the effort, but it takes an additional eighty per cent of the effort to achieve the remaining twenty per cent of the results.

Now, some people might think that achieving eighty per cent of the result for only twenty per cent of the effort is a good deal. It’s equivalent to a first at degree level. But for me, eighty per cent simply isn’t enough. There’s still twenty per cent out there for grabs. However, the thought of having to apply another eighty per cent of the effort doesn’t sound very appealing.

Fortunately, you don’t have to. You can simply apply twenty per cent of that effort to achieve eighty percent of the remaining results. Eighty per cent of twenty is sixteen. So you can achieve ninety six per cent of your goal with only twenty four per cent of the work.

But why stop there? You’re still four per cent away from perfection. Again, just put in twenty per cent of the effort required and you’ll get eighty per cent of the results. So, that’s an extra 3.2% of your total goal, with only 0.8% extra work. A stunning 99.2% of your original goal, with just 24.8% of the effort required. Taking it even further, you can get eighty per cent of that remaining 0.8% for only 0.64% of total effort. It’s incredible. 99.84% of the results from 24.96% of the work. And, if you apply the same rule one more time, you’ll be able to achieve 99.968% of the results from only 24.992% of the effort. Effectively, this principle means that you can accomplish pretty much anything with only a quarter of the work.

No doubt you are wondering how this principle can be applied to real life. Well, it’s easy. Imagine for example, you were training to run a marathon. The modern marathon is 26 miles 385 yards (42.195 km). Most suckers would think in order to run 26 miles 385 yards, you need to train enough to be able to run 26 miles 385 yards. As I’ve demonstrated above, this is nonsense. As long as you train hard enough to be able to run a quarter of a marathon, you can run a marathon. So if you can run about six and a half miles, you can run twenty six miles just as easily.

This blog post is just over four hundred words, but I only put in the effort required to write a hundred words.

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STATIONERY CLUB

Over on Twitter, I’ve been chatting to @wowser about an idea for a thing called Stationery Club.

I’m not entirely sure who @wowser is, if I’m entirely honest. I think I first started following him when I saw him talking to David Quantick about Avalon by Roxy Music (it is my favourite Roxy album, and I believe Quantick and Wowser feel the same way).

Stationery Club is not my idea, it is Wowser’s idea.

At present, Stationery Club exists as a #hashtag; once a month (I think it’s once a month, maybe it’s once a fortnight), Wowser asks people about their favourite item of stationery. Everyone tags their replies with the hashtag #stationeryclub and a nice conversation flows between total strangers online.

However, I want to take it further. I want to make it real. Make it physical.

I see Stationery Club as similar to a book club. People meeting once a month (or fortnight, or week, depending on demand – I expect it will be monthly) and, rather than everyone discussing the book they have just read, they discuss the pen they have used. It wouldn’t always need to be a pen, of course, it might be index markers, or a mechanical pencil, or a new type of paper clip. The point is, before each meeting, one member would nominate a piece of stationery, and then all the other members would use it for a week or so and then it would be discussed by the group. There could be group outings to Ryman.

The location wouldn’t be anything fancy. Just a pub somewhere in Central London. A Sam Smiths pub, nice and cheap. I think it would be brilliant.

I suspect the reality would just be me, sitting on my own in a pub, holding a pen and sobbing. This is what I do most evenings anyway, so if anyone wants to join me, please do.

I’ve also created a Stationery Club Flickr group.

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SEEK ASSISTANCE

For a long time, one of the few things I was really proud of in life was my Oystercard technique.

I was a master. Controlled, efficient, precise. I never caused any unnecessary delay to the people behind me. I knew just how long to keep the card in contact with the reader in order for it to register. I appreciated the subtle difference between “Ticket 1 soon expir” (two to three days left of a weekly Travelcard) and “Ticket 1 near expir” (weekly Travelcard expires tomorrow). I never fumbled around in the walk-up to the ticket barrier trying to find my Oyster; I had it in my hand, ready, prepared.

And yet, although I was always careful to make sure I had my card ready, I never wanted to be one of those over-cautious saps you see standing to one side, somewhere between the escalator and the barrier, making sure they have their ticket to hand before making their approach.

For me, the skill – the art – comes from ensuring every movement is perfectly timed so that without having to alter the pace of my steps, without having to rush, without panicking, I am able to produce my Oyster at the perfect moment. Not just that, but the whole exercise (approaching the barrier; removing my wallet with my left hand from the pocket in my jeans; flipping my wallet open and removing the Oyster with my right hand; swiping it on the reader, the RFID chip embedded in the card sending my details to some magical computer somewhere which then says “Yes, James Ward may pass through these gates” and orders the barrier to open, allowing me to continue without hesitation; as I then return the card to my wallet and my wallet to my pocket) must be done in one continuous, fluid, motion.

It is moments like this when I almost feel like time itself has slowed down, seconds expanded massively. I become aware of everything around me. The incredible distance still to travel. I don’t need to take out my Oystercard for another two or three steps, I can relax. There’s nothing to worry about, it’s all under control. I am calm. I am confident.

Except – SEEK ASSISTANCE

Recently, I’ve started getting “Seek Assistance” messages more and more. Almost fifty per cent of the time now. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. I’m sure I haven’t changed my technique. Sometimes I wonder if I’d grown complacent. That the “Seek Assistance” message is a punishment for my hubris. But, it can’t be that. Although I take pride in my Oystercard skill, I am not cocky. I haven’t changed as a person, I am sure of this. It’s the card. It has to be the card. Maybe after a while, they get worn out, don’t work as effectively. It’s the card. It’s got to be.

It’s got to be.

I can at least take some comfort in the fact that when faced with a “Seek Assistance”, I know to step back from the barrier before trying again. You can’t just stay in your I-was-expecting-the-barrier-to-open position, that’s just asking for trouble.

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FOLLOW THE BEAR

A while ago, I somehow reminded myself that when I was a young, tiny Ward, I once had my photo taken with the Hofmeister bear. I couldn’t remember actually meeting the Hofmeister bear, but I was sure I remembered the photograph. I wondered if maybe I had made the whole thing up, but last time I was at Ward HQ, I found this:

It’s a photo of me with the Hofmeister bear.

Unlike this picture of me on holiday, this photo does at least seem to offer some information to help me date the picture. Ignore my Muppets T-shirt. That is a red herring. The Muppets Show ran from 1976 to 1981, and it’s obviously not 1981 as that was the year I was born. The most significant clue is surely the boy in the background wearing a Ghostbusters sweatshirt. I am certain that the sweatshirt relates to the cartoon series rather than the film (the library scene at the beginning of the film would have made that kid shit himself). The Real Ghostbusters ran from 1986 to 1991. I’d say this must be 1987 (which also suggests my guess regarding the date of the other photograph is probably spot on).

It seems remarkable now that even a fairly weak lager would be advertised by a funny, friendly bear. Indeed, Section 11.8.2(a) of the current ASA guidelines relating to the advertisement of alcoholic drinks on television specifically states that:

Advertisements for alcoholic drinks must not be likely to appeal strongly to people
under 18.

You might argue that the character of George the bear was unlikely to appeal to young children. He was a bit of a wide boy; hanging out in pubs, swilling beer. He had attitude. However, he was also a bear in a hat, and kids love bears in hats. It’s a scientific fact. Put a hat on a bear, and kids will love it.

This advert covers the biography of George in quite satisfactory detail:

He grew up in the forests of Bavaria, got a bit bored, steals some beer off some couple making out in the woods and then goes to the pub. I bet he only featured in the adverts because his grandad appears on the Hofmeister logo. Pure nepotism.

Incidentally, the advert would also appear to be in breach of Section 11.8.1(a)(1) and Section 11.8.1(c) of the current guidelines:

11.8.1(a)(1) Advertisements must not suggest that alcohol can contribute to an individual’s popularity or confidence [...] Nor may they suggest that alcohol can enhance personal qualities.

11.8.1(c)Advertisements must not link alcohol with sexual activity or success or imply that alcohol can enhance attractiveness.

It’s clear that George isn’t a very suitable role model for a young boy. I wonder what my parents were thinking.

I also appear to be holding a mouse.

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CHRISTMAS EVE

Christmas Eve, 1985 (possibly 1986). I was about five years old.

It was the middle of the night and I was in bed. I woke up to go to the bathroom. As I was washing my hands, I heard a sudden noise on the roof.

It’s Christmas Eve, the middle of the night, I’m five, there’s a noise on the roof. It’s Santa. It’s definitely Santa. Santa Claus is on the roof of Ward HQ. SANTA CLAUS IS ON MY ROOF.

I immediately ran back to my room and jumped into bed. I shut my eyes as tight as I possibly could. Santa couldn’t know I was awake. That’s against the rules. If he knew I was awake, I wouldn’t get any presents.

The next morning, I woke up and at the end of my bed there was a giant stocking filled with presents. It really HAD been Santa after all! And not only that, but, at just five years of age, I’d managed to trick him into thinking I was asleep. I’d outwitted Santa.

Looking back now of course, I realise that the noise on the roof might have just been a pigeon, or an owl or something and that. A loose tile, maybe. And if I’m totally honest, it probably wasn’t Santa.

But part of me is still convinced it was.

Merry Christmas.

And here is a picture of me with Santa:

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