In this case I suspect it’s a discrimination issue. Along the lines of ‘all students are the same’, along with the prejudices that go with this statement. And my friend, with his long hair and skateboard, was given the treatment they believe students deserve. All of them, irrespective of behaviour.

I find that retail assistants are particularly poor. If they’re trained they’re ok. Well for a short time. You can tell because there’s a consistent script. It happened at our local railway station. I was so taken aback I asked if they’d been trained and they confirmed it. It was such a shock I almost prefer them grumpy. They save their most horrendous behaviours for foreign students, particularly those struggling to make themselves understood. I have cringed with embarrassment many a time whilst waiting to buy a ticket. The problem with trained service is that as soon as a line manager fails to model the desired behaviours people revert to normal discourtesy and continue to process you through the checkout. That’s why customer service training generally doesn’t work. There’s a feel-good factor that evaporates as quickly as your goodwill towards their business. There must be something about a uniform that transforms a reasonable human being into a ‘I go by the rules’ automaton. The London Tube staff are pastmasters at this. Listen to the announcements and responses to simple questions. They must be badly managed.

When it comes to service I make an exception for local family businesses where they really value your custom and treat you as an individual. And occasionally you get someone who loves people, or perhaps their job, and goes out of their way to make you feel special. This kind of talent should be spotted at the recruitment stage. It saves investment in customer service training.

A few plaudits now for good service received this week.

Severn Trent Water – courteous, efficient, pleasant

M&S Simply Food – chatty without being irritating or overly personal

Bonfields estate agency – efficient, personal, don’t oversell

Quorn Crafts – efficient, interested, friendly

Royal Exchange Manchester – patient and caring.

That’s it for now. Can think of many more who are not but won’t name and shame today. Got any examples yourself?

Firstly there was the farce of ticket distribution with the masses fighting for the few tickets allocated to the general public. More recently the news that almost £6 billion will be spent on security and counter-terrorism measures. Tube drivers are being bribed not to strike during the summer. And over £1 million was spent recently taking 30,000 Transport for London staff on a tour of the Olympic Park. I could go on… As for health benefits the Olympics is hardly about good nutrition when three of the main sponsors are McDonalds, Cadburys and Coca Cola. Today we hear that the sick and vulnerable will be at risk as ambulances will be banned from their normal routes to allow VIPs to take a fast lane to the events.

All this reminds me of the TV mini series ‘Versailles’ that I’ve just finished watching. It seems to me that the coalition government has much in common with the Kings Louis and their noble friends when it comes to excess and the place of the ‘third estate’ (that’s us!). Although we learned from commentator Antonia Fraser that Marie Antoinette never said ‘Let them eat cake’ Olympic decision-makers seem to be operating in this spirit. Watching it on the TV will be the nearest that most people get. Not me though!

The focus of the session was on the specifics of what individuals need to live. The basic minimum standards to survive and contribute to society. We had to imagine ourselves as 32 year olds, a couple, living in a flat with basic amenities. A picture was painted. We weren’t told whether these two were working. Questions were asked and we were invited to offer an opinion.

‘What do they need in their lounge, bedroom etc?’

‘What should they spend on household essentials, holidays, gifts, haircuts…?’

‘Do they need internet, a mobile phone, a landline…?’

We were asked to speak individually, not talk over one another, keep to the subject. All of this proved impossible and the researcher struggled to maintain order. It reminded me of my school teaching days with an unruly class of third formers. Some people found it impossible to tailor their comments to the scenario and talked about their personal situations – at great length.

‘Well, my missus sends me round the shops looking for the cheapest items… ‘

‘We go to the Market… Now you can get cheap veg there… Mind you…’

Others would then join in, telling their own tales. The session provided an opportunity for people to get support for their views about the high cost of petrol, energy etc, where to go for the cheapest haircut, why Morrisons is better than Tesco etc etc.

When brought back to the scenario of the 30 somethings we were supposed to be focussing on one guy offered the opinion that…

‘Young people today live on a diet of soaps and McDonalds…’ which didn’t sound like any young person I know.

I sat there silently screaming, considered making my apologies but decided to stick it out. I could provide a different perspective. I had a duty to do this. I didn’t want the researchers to go away believing all 60 somethings thought the same. So I spent the rest of the session saying ‘I disagree…’. I had nothing to lose and thought it unlikely I would ever meet these folk again. No doubt I was branded a snob.

It did make me question the validity of much research. I also wondered what, other the age and location, were the criteria they had used to select us. Did we represent ‘average consumers’, ‘the retired’, the 60s, or ‘town people’? We were only representative of people who had been contacted and agreed to volunteer their time. It seemed to me that most of the questions should have been directed to experts who would use real data rather than idiosyncratic and uninformed (for the most part) opinions. Look out for these research findings in July when they will be published as ‘research’. I won’t be volunteering for any more focus groups.

A friend at lunch today, telling us how his friend’s girlfriend has moved into their flat, described her as ‘Not a real woman … She doesn’t cook…’. I nearly choked on my roast! Does this mean that every man still expects his tea on the table, irrespective of talent, availability and fairness?

I have to admit that I do most of the cooking because my husband ‘eats to live’ and would happily live on a diet of fry-ups, roasts and pork chops. It’s fuel for the body in his opinion. Not much more. Whereas I regard feeding people as an act of love. We manage the situation and he will eat most things – except couscous. That’s not for men either, apparently. We’ll all eat cake though.

I wanted one life
You wanted another
We couldn’t have our cake
So we ate each other.

By Roger McGough.

Ingredients

• 4 or 5 clementines
• 6 eggs
• 225 GM sugar
• 250 GM ground almonds
• Heaped teaspoon of baking powder

Instructions

1. Put whole fruit in pan of cold water, bring to the boil and simmer for two hours
2. Pulp everything, except pips, in the processor or by hand
3. Heat oven to 5/190 c and butter a springform tin
4. Beat eggs. Add sugar, almonds, baking powder
5. Bake for an hour then leave to cool
6. If you like, add a glaze or fruit. Not really necessary.

Gorgeous with vanilla ice-cream or Greek yogurt!

With the assistance of my young friend Dave we are making a video to help promote the charity. And so yesterday, on one of the coldest days of the year, well wrapped up, we went to a local park so that Dave could film Dettie as she told her story. As we wondered through the park to find a good spot to sit Dettie told us of homeless people who sleep in the park. Under the bandstand, even in the bushes. Because there is no night stop in Loughborough, nowhere for them to go. Sometimes an uncaring police officer will move them on. Apparently it’s illegal to sleep outside. I could not imagine how anyone could survive the current freezing temperatures. One of the homeless is a 67 year old man and he was without a sleeping bag until Dettie gave him one.

Loughborough is quite an affluent town. I understand that it has one of the wealthiest student populations for a university town. Perhaps because of the elite athlete students whose parents have paid for sport tuition. Many of the Olympic athletes are training here. But like most towns it has a side that is hidden if you live ‘on the right side of town’. Dettie told us that homeless people are not always identifiable. They try to keep themselves clean and generally feel ashamed of their predicament. The problem is likely to get worse as the cuts bite.

I’ve become a trend-setter! I see Mark Owen from Take That is photographed wearing the same design of jumper as I knitted for Ross for his 24th birthday this month. I wonder how he knew about it. It’s Dennis the Menace reinvented, red and black horizontal stripes. Bet Mark Owen paid a fortune for his.

Visited Mount St Bernard Abbey this weekend. It’s a Pugin designed church and abbey run by Cistercians, they of the black and white habits. Also known as ‘Trappists’. They have a 200 acre site, prime Leicestershire land, including a farm. I went with young friends this weekend and we were lucky enough to be present when the monks were singing. You can’t get very close but we could see that there were a couple of young members. So it won’t be transformed into a luxury hotel, just yet.

The monks live by the rule of St Benedict and the principles they live by include Prayer, Work and Hospitality. They certainly live up to the latter in the shop where the ones who serve are unfailingly polite and friendly. One of them is from Lancashire. He once asked me if I worked in a mill! Mustn’t get out much; or else I had fluff in my hair. Once I visited with two nuns, normally dressed ie not in habits. We bought stuff and paid by cheque. He took their proof of identity but not mine. On sale there is homemade pottery, their own stationery and cards, dairy products (they run a farm), as well as books and the usual religious artefacts. They also sell ‘glow in the dark Marys’ and other Blackpool-like souvenirs. I suppose they have to keep those huge buildings going through their various enterprises.

They have a guest house where you can stay. My husband went on retreat once with a friend. There is no charge but they ask for a donation. Women can stay too but they side in a separate lodge. You do have to get up and pray with them though. The buildings are really beautiful. Grand as you would expect. Windows, doors and arches all resemble praying hands. There is a feeling of great calm, as is always the case with monasteries.

This book, now at the top of the Guardian’s best sellers list, is a must read for book lovers. It reminds me why I read. As a child I ‘always had my head in a book’, as my parents used to say, sometimes with amusement, other times with annoyance. I would be lying on the floor, propped up on my elbow, engrossed and far away. We were mostly all in the same room so I was surrounded by people and noise. Nothing distracted me, I was in my own world.

Reading has always been a central passion. In my very early life books came from the library. At least once a week I walked to the small local library with my Mum, until I’d read all books of interest. I got through books so quickly that I went beyond my age group. I remember taking out six books to last all summer and then getting through them in a week. So I went beyond fiction and read travel, history, all sorts. I even read Georgette Heyer’s historical romances. More Downton Abbey than Mills & Boon. My parents weren’t particularly bookish. Mum read Victoria Holt and Jean Plaidy; I don’t remember Dad reading anything. The only books on our shelves were a medical dictionary, a bible, some green Penguin crime books and a cowboy book by Zane Grey. But I read because they encouraged me and my teachers told me to. Most of my gifts were books. I still have a Dickens that Dad bought me one Christmas.

I suppose that there were fewer options for self development and entertainment in those days. Certainly no competition from technology. If you wanted to escape from the daily grind of school and chores you stuck your head in a book. Things have changed, of course. Apparently only one in three teenagers now read for pleasure. Perhaps not surprising in view of the way the National Curriculum demands can destroy a love of reading. It took me years post uni to resume reading for pleasure. We know that many children do not read outside of school. Even celebrities like Victoria Beckham feel no shame in admitting that they’ve only ever read one book.

We need to read not just as entertainment but because books can help us to make sense of our lives. Books are great companions when we’re alone, sad, in need of silence. In the aforementioned book ten of our greatest authors remind us when reading can transform us, why it’s not one-way communication and how it can be one of life’s greatest pleasures.

Zadie Smith talks about the pleasures of the library and how local libraries can be ‘gateways to other lives’. Blake Morrison describes how ‘the best books give us a lifeline, a reason to believe, a way to breathe more freely’. Tim Parks focuses on the flexibility and enchantment of reading. Then there is Mark Haddon, Michael Rosen, Nicholas Carr and my favourite Jeanette Winterson. Finally Jane Davis who founded The Reader Organisation talks about the pleasures of shared reading and discussing what you have read. When I read a good book I want to talk about it. I usually give it away so that creates an opportunity to share impressions. My friends Louise, Lis and Hanora all belong to reading groups. As Jane Davis says…

‘What people instinctively know, and what science is beginning to understand, is that what makes people happy above all is a network of supportive fellow creatures, a sense of purpose, challenge and meaningful occupation. Shared reading can provide all this. Get a few people together, pick up a good book, and try it!’ I just might…

My friend and I worked on the premise that ‘women in business do things differently’ and in most respects we did. We started from a kitchen table and grew, in staff and revenue, very fast. We had to, to be successful at a time when business was still largely ‘a man’s world’. At the start we sold to men but employed women. This was our attempt to redress the balance. Our employment practices were quirky, innovative and mainly worked well. We were the first UK company to employ a company nanny. Staff received generous pay and benefits. Many worked from home. We were understanding and flexible employers. As this was the era when employers were encouraging mothers to go back to work we were able to translate some our own policies into training and innovative working practices for large organisations. We wrote management books together, our reputation grew. Working to ridiculous deadlines to maintain our market edge, we would be in the office weekends and holidays, five small daughters in tow, generating more ideas than we could realise, but it was fun, fun, fun. We thrived in an atmosphere of creative chaos.

Then it started to go wrong. For me. I began to feel trapped. I wanted to make changes but it wasn’t my company. We employed senior people on high salaries who didn’t deliver. Large company people can’t always function in a small company where there is nowhere to hide. And where you have to do your own admin, make your own lunches and photocopy your own stuff. We had a male non executive director, successful in his own field, who referred to me and my team as ‘the factory’. We were churning out the work to meet high revenue targets. It was relentless, just too much. I started to feel undervalued and found it difficult to make my voice heard. Hard to imagine now as I was working with my best friend. So I took the decision to leave and we drifted apart. This caused a rift between our families who had always spent weekends, holidays and many days together.

Ten years later I met my friend at the local railway station, both on our way to London. Wary at first, we rebuilt the relationship, realising how much we had missed one another. We have had various discussions about working together again. So far it hasn’t happened. Twenty five years on things would be different. I think.