Adrian, whom I’d met once before, was walking to the venue faster than I was. So despite my being ahead on this chilly early morning, the gap was closing.

“Why do pigeons look sadder in London?” I asked Adrian as we drew level. I can’t remember his reply. But I do remember Adrian’s concentrated frown, a mumble about ‘toilet’, and an explanation that on this particular morning a considered walk-speed was key. “Too fast. Or too slow…” explained Adrian, “…could be disastrous.”

The pigeon I’d seen seconds earlier really did look sad. It was limping. A dozen feathers pointed like slim grey fingers in different directions. And its head was down. I remember the precise moment I saw sad pigeon. I was thinking about, and missing, my 8 year old daughter Izobel. She was in Northumberland, being Izobel. I was in London, on my way to a writing course. Just as sad pigeon came into view.

Later that day, over coffee, I had a thought. Does what we see influence how we feel? Or does how we feel influence what we see? Sad pigeon wasn’t the only pigeon in town. There were many. And not all sad.

I’ve concluded it’s (mostly) the latter. What we feel influences what we see. Which is good news for me because if I sit a little straighter, and smile a little wider, the world looks better.

I later found out it was a good day for Adrian too. His walk-speed was well judged. And disaster, thankfully, was averted.

Some very serious business issues are addressed in newsletters. Here’s another.

We do very well with our Old Post Office holiday cottages. Almost everybody says 10 out of 10. But a subject I can’t ignore has reared its head twice now. It is The Great Toilet Brush Debate.

The way I see it, there are three options:

1. Don’t have a toilet brush. Even though some guests want one.
2. Do have a toilet brush. Even though – no matter how clean it may appear – some guests see toilet brushes as monstrous collectors of any number of other human being’s poo.
3. Have a single-use (per stay), clearly brand new, shrink-wrapped toilet brush. So toilet brush lovers can unwrap and use it, and toilet brush haters can leave it alone – unopened. This has sustainability issues though, and Old Post Office does all it can to be planet kind.

So, what do you suggest? Which of the above is most right? Is there a fourth way? Please do let me know.

If you’re one of the many business bods that struggle to describe what you do concisely. Try this. Define what you do, twice. Once for the right brainers. Once for the left.

For the left brainers, I say I’m a Brand Director and Writer. (Explaining also that I bring my own chair. Because there won’t already be one for a Brand Director, at their board table).

For the right brainers I say I Create Space, Think Clear and Write Well. An altogether fluffier notion, but just as true.

And both things, which are really the same thing, result in, err, the same thing.

Which is getting you noticed, remembered and chosen.

So there you go. If you’re one of the many business bods that struggle to describe what you do concisely. Try this. Define what you do, twice. Once for the right brainers. Once for the left.

Here’s something I wrote back to Susanna on LinkedIn. After our first chat. I think this is what happens when certain minds meet. Good questions appear. And much more importantly – something changes.

“Hello Susanna. Happy Friday.

It was great to chat, so thank you for that. (Rhymes).

As vibrant, fizzy and thinky as our chat was, we paused at one point didn’t we? To ask,

“Hang on. I get that these things we’re shining a light on are real and felt by many. We even know who the many are. But if these things are significant enough to get our heartfelt attention today, what are we going to do to make a change? ‘We’ meaning you and/or me. ‘Change’ meaning, let’s be specific. Let’s be precise. What are we actually going to DO? Not necessarily to change ‘the’ world. But change ‘our’ world(s). Then see what lovely ripples happen.”

It sounds quite intense written down. But it’s not really. WTF are we here for if not to ponder things like this? I think that, in this little, 1,000 month visit we all have, eye-widening and eyebrow-hoisting work is the best work to do. Things that change things.

See you in Manchester. Let’s see what happens.

Mychael.”

‘No idea what will happen. Let’s see though.

Many things at The Do Lectures are different to anything, anywhere. Here’s one of them. At The Do Lectures, you hear differently. Or at the very least – I do.

When someone asks, ‘What do you do?’ – that’s not what you hear.

What you hear instead is, ‘Please tell me about your life’s work’ or ‘Please tell me what you were born to do’ or ‘What beautiful change are you making’ or ‘How do you help people? or ‘What’s your gift, and what do you gift – every day?’

No one is being judgy. No one means to panic you. Or push you. Or test you. They’re just being themselves.

You hear the new questions because, somehow, The Do Lectures is the weekend where the sleepwalking stops. Where the sleepy awaken. Where the lights come on. Where life can, if you like, begin.

Give before you get. Side Projects as Calling Cards are not just important. They are essential.

I’m no good at selling. I don’t like it. I don’t want to persuade people to buy things they don’t need with money they don’t have. I’m OK helping people understand why ‘this’ is better than ‘that’, though. But only if I am being interesting, different, entertaining, funny,  generous and genuine (the offer must be wonderful). I can’t be arsed schmoozing with ordinary thinkers, selling ordinary things.

This brings me to something that, I realised, I’ve recommended to every single client of mine – for years. It’s ‘have a side project as a calling card’.

A digital book.

A library of essays.

A blog (that you actually bloody write!)

‘How to’ factsheets.

Etc.

Playing the numbers game, DMing strangers and treating them as prospects before anything else is boring, lazy and bad manners. We should be better far, far better than that.

Give before you get. Side Projects as Calling Cards are not just important. They are essential.

Someone I now know quite well, wrote something inside my trousers about 20 years before I met him. I sometimes recall what he wrote, and the brand he and his wife created, when sat on the toilet.

The reason I mention this, is to illustrate something important about my business and yours… If you want your business to be remembered, do something memorable.*

Howies was created in 1995 by Clare and David Hieatt. I bought their jeans. And written inside the back of the waistline, upside down (I think) was, “When did you last change your underpants?”

In a world of so much choice, please remember it’s better to be different than it is to be better. If you want to stand out, that is. So if you want your business to be remembered, do something memorable. Like writing inside their trousers. When nobody else is.

*This neat sentence is easy to read. But very hard to do consistently and well. Read it again and ask yourself if you could do loads more to make your business more memorable.**

**The answer is ‘yes’.