The Repair Shop

So many people love this programme - and for those of you that know nothing about it; the premise is thus… The general public bring in items of special value to them - mostly of sentimental attachment or something useful that they want to keep using - and expert craftspeople fix them.  For the purposes of a narrative, there is usually an interesting back story, and often a sad one.  It is probably one of the most brilliant ideas to come out of the BBC in recent years as it ticks all the boxes; fascinating observations of the artisans with insights into their skills, hugely satisfying ‘before’ and ‘after’ shots and very happy customers at the end.  I believe it touches something deeper however, which is the transformative effect of watching an object take on a new life and a new story.

If not a new life, a long life in the past was expected of our items, and our grandparents’ generation understood this - practically having ‘make do and mend’ imprinted on their foreheads.  They had little choice; there were less consumables, almost anything (apart from property) was more expensive, and the concept of rampant capitalism hadn’t taken off to the same extent.  The middle classes would have been uncomfortable disposing of a perfectly useable object, which were usually made to last anyway - as the concept of waste was particularly abhorrent to them.  Having been brought up with similar values, I was particularly pissed off the other day, as I had to write off my fourth set of hair straighteners in about fifteen years.  Leaving aside the arguments about owning such frivolous shit, I genuinely haven’t been excited ever about having to buy a new set.  The guilt of throwing such an object into landfill is crushing - I just want the bloody thing to work - and I resent it if it doesn’t.  But here’s the thing; they are designed to wear out.  We all understand the arguments; manufacturing can’t survive if we don’t continually buy a load of crap we don’t need, shares don’t increase in value, the economy and pensions don’t grow and everybody dies.  Or something.  The trouble with this model however is it ignores two things; human ability to adapt and human ability to create.  The circular economy understands this; it is a straightforward concept which roughly goes as follows:  Instead of throwing something away, we reuse or recycle it using human skills, craft and creativity.  It is then sold, according to the hours and skills used to give it new life.  It’s delicious in its simplicity and deeply satisfying.  Other forms of consumerism which can’t be recycled (such as food) can still be sold with environmental consciousness and there have been people who understood this and exploited it.  The most prominent of these in my life was Anita Roddick, who founded ‘The Body Shop’ - a chain of shops selling beauty treatments, creams, shampoos and so on.  I found her book inspiring, funny, honest and influential - and by the way I loved the shops and products.  What she understood was that business didn’t need to be hard-nosed, money grabbing, evil bastardness (and - let’s be honest - run by men) and she wasn’t the first person to understand this.  She thought deeply about the ethics behind her business and was profoundly inspired by the Quakers of the nineteenth century, who built business around community, service and leaving a positive imprint on society (think companies such as Cadbury, Rowntrees and Fry’s).  She understood that whilst for many, entrepreneurial instincts were natural and exciting, she also understood that business had responsibility to work for the greater good. There are others currently trying to think in the same way and are increasingly making genuine changes in business thinking, whilst simultaneously showing success.  Circular economy initiatives are springing up all over the place - some simply as re-using and selling objects websites, and some are doing the Repair Shop thing and re-purposing or restoring items.  They’re fabulous.

The Repair Shop spirit has probably affected all of us in some way.  We likely all have something in our houses that has sentimental value, worth far more than the sum of its parts.  I have two sets of things - books and records.  Are there special ones?  Absolutely.  I have a Puffin Annual that my Grandmother bought me for my sixth birthday - I was already becoming a bit of a book worm by then, but this book was stretching my abilities; one of the stories was called ‘The Faithless Lollybird’ - at least two words there that I didn’t understand.  There were also however little golden nuggets everywhere; a bit about Elisabeth Beresford (author of The Wombles no less), and a fantastical poem called the ‘WattleUEat.’  The spine is broken, the colours have faded but I still love to escape into it every now and then and it would be impossible to throw it away.

Equally impossible of course would be getting rid of my records.  There are too many memories, too much joy and too much sweat saving up for them.  Documenting all of them would take forever, but you can get a little taste of my favourites here.  Happy listening.

Contemplative Music of the Day:  Bill Evans, Bill Evans, Bill Evans!  Almost anything of this beautiful pianist’s work takes you to a higher astral plain, but for today I choose ‘A House Is Not a Home’ from the ‘I Will Say Goodbye’ album.  It’s partly because it’s fantastic obviously, but also it is celebratory to hear such a lovely interpretation of a Burt Bacharach tune.

Uplifting Music of the Day:  ‘Lisbon’ from ‘Lincolnshire Posy’ by Percy Grainger.  This astonishing suite demonstrates all of Grainger’s bonkers approaches to writing music, and despite his eccentricities is a master of wind orchestra composition.  His life story is mad, and at times disturbing, but he manages to combine delicious combinations of folk tunes and some jazz harmonies; many of my favourite things in orchestration.

Book:  ‘Body and Soul’ by Anita Roddick.  Just a gorgeous biographical read from a woman who showed that business can be run differently.