There’s no limit to what you can learn from a book.

I was really interested to hear that veteran snooker player and multi world championship winner Steve Davis learnt to play the game by practicing with his father and closely following the book, ‘How I Play Snooker’ by Joe Davis (no relation). Steve commented that they referred to it like a bible. It taught him how to approach every different type of shot.

This story struck a chord with me. I firmly believe that it’s very possible to learn pretty much everything from a book (except possibly brain surgery!). Like most teachers, I don’t much enjoy being taught by others. I’ve attended several evening classes over the years but they just aren’t for me. I’d rather be at home, teaching myself from a self-help paperback. Nowadays you can also watch a YouTube video or two. The possibilities are endless.

Three years ago I read Adele Ramet’s book on creative writing. It helped me to complete my first novel, Aoife’s Chariot. Now I’ve got fifteen in my back catalogue, including a book for children. The advice was clear and straightforward. I was able to refer back to Ramet’s words at moments of uncertainty. It didn’t write the books for me, but it trained me in the fundamentals of the craft.

Steve Davis’ story also reminded me of my sister, who taught herself to draw from our mum’s guides to painting. She later learnt how to branch out into oil painting by using books. Technically speaking she is ‘untrained’ as an artist, having not attended an art school. But to me, her works are every bit as good. She has been a consultant artist on a feature film for heaven’s sake!

So why is it so important that books can teach us these skills? Crucially for me, it means that simply owning a library card can give a person access to the type of education and training that usually only those with wealth or privilege have access to. Snooker has always been a sport for all classes, not requiring expensive equipment or memberships to exclusive clubs. It’s not a sport played in public schools or by members of the royal family.

I remember very well the ‘teach yourself’ series of books which were popular in the 70s and 80s, offering comprehensive courses on everything from speed reading to playing golf.

My Dad didn’t have the opportunity to go to university, yet he is the most knowledgable person I know. Why? Because of books. At one point in the nineties, he had read just about every book available on the American Civil War and was often found correcting so-called ‘experts’ being interviewed on TV.

I wont be the only person who has a relative like this. Books have always been a great leveller. Those who have taught themselves that way are also more often than not self-starters, not spoon fed like overly educated types (like me!). They love knowledge for its own sake.

I stand  by my claim that you can learn pretty much anything you want from a book. And just like the cover of Ramet’s book, it can open doors to an entirely new world of opportunity.

The greatest challenge for Brits, is to say ‘I hate it’.

I’m disappointed that this series of The Great Interior Design Challenge has finished its run. The show is a great favourite in our house. We enjoy the variety of the architectural designs the contestants take on and the ingenuity of their end products. But what became glaringly obvious in this second series, was the inability of the homeowners to tell the designers to their face that the plans they had for their own homes were not what they wanted or asked for.

in fact, the ultimate winner of the competition had left a trail of tearful and disappointed clients in her wake. But her ‘daring’ and ‘bold’ designs were hailed as a triumph by the judges. One poor chap was left with a small room painted a dark green that would have depressed the most optimistic of souls. After complaining that he ‘just wouldn’t be able to live with the colour,’ the man gained the huge concession of not having the ceiling painted green too.

You could sense that for many of those giving up rooms in their homes for the competition, the local painter and decorator would be moving in just as soon as the cameras rolled out.

But what fascinated me most, was how difficult the homeowners found it to express their dislike of the proposals set out to them by the designer. The most any of them could say was that ‘they were a little unsure about certain aspects’. These reservations were easily dismissed. Only in the final, did one of the homeowners have the gumption to stop work on her beautiful period flat half way through, declaring forcibly that it wasn’t what she wanted. We were cheering!! Then, of course, that particular designer won. Her bullying disregard for others was oddly viewed as ‘visionary’ and ‘brave’. Well, it was easy to be brave, she didn’t have to live with the end results.

So we learnt a few interesting things from the series. Firstly, and most importantly, we learnt to never employ the services of an interior designer. Most people are perfectly clear about what they want in their own homes. A trip to B&Q would do the job just as well.

Secondly, we’ve learnt that it’s important not to be too British when telling someone that you don’t like what they are proposing. Understating matters clearly isn’t enough. It’s why many of us fall prey to doorstep sellers and cold callers. We don’t want to offend or upset people. Well, forget that. Otherwise you’ll end up living in a dark green box, or with an extremely hefty redecoration bill.

Want to encourage the creative urge in your kids? Embrace your own.

When I was about three years old and my sister five, our dad, a bank manager who commuted to his London office each day, decided to re-decorate our suburban, three bedroomed semi-detached house in Essex.
In the process of this fairly mundane and entirely unremarkable task, he decided, almost inexplicably, to create a colourful painted mural up the stairs.

At the time, I thought this creation was wonderful, and something that everyone’s dad did. It perhaps took me until I had my own children to realise that it really wasn’t.
I’ve been decorating the upstairs bathroom myself this past week and although I have created murals in my children’s bedrooms at various points, I’m just not brave enough to do it elsewhere in the house. But I wholeheartedly wish I was.

Nothing appeals to children more than the feeling that their world of imagination and fun can spill over into the serious, sterile universe of the grown-ups. I can still remember that picture snaking up the twisting staircase, with perfect clarity. There were green hills, blue skies and white fluffy clouds. I’ve no idea if it was any good in an artistic sense (sorry Dad) but to my younger self this really didn’t matter. It was magical.

My sister is now a rather wonderful artist herself and I write novels. We have both embraced the idea that it’s perfectly acceptable to explore your imagination and follow it to wherever it wants to go.

Does this tendency have anything to do with that mural my father painted for us over 35 years ago? Well, I can’t prove it, but I definitely think it might have. In which case, maybe I should really consider making a similar gesture to my own children.
Because how can we expect our offspring to show their creative side if we are never prepared to reveal ours?

#TheBigPaintingChallenge – a lesson in how to demotivate women

On the whole, I’m enjoying the BBC1 series The Big Painting Challenge. There are some excellent tips in these programmes for beginners wanting to attempt the different styles and disciplines of painting. However, viewing this competition has become something of a pantomime in our house in recent weeks. My children find the unnecessary harshness of the two expert judges to be hilarious. Especially as they seem to thoroughly detest the pictures that we all like the best. Obviously, we don’t really understand ‘serious’ art as they do.
But yesterday’s programme, falling as it did on International Women’s Day, was a little jarring. The female contestants, all bar one particularly feisty, more mature lady, have positively wilted under the strict tutelage of the judges. The men, on the other hand, are thriving on the tough feedback, ignoring what they think is unhelpful and soaking up the useful stuff.
I don’t want to fall into the trap of making generalisations about the way in which men and women operate. I happen to believe that our similarities far outweigh our differences. However, having worked as a teacher for over a decade, I can confidently assert that girls thrive under more gentle, constructive guidance. If your criticism is too sharp or not focussed enough then a female student will lose confidence in what they can do well and you can easily find them dropping behind even further.
‘Man up’, I imagine some viewers might say. It’s a competition and if you can’t take the heat, it’s the right thing for you to be eliminated. Well, there is some validity in that. But the contestants are learning from one week to the next and undoubtedly it will be the one who learns the most who comes out victorious. So perhaps the judges should vary their teaching style a little in order to create a level playing field – it’s only some paintings, not open heart surgery!
Perhaps the approach is deliberate, to encourage more male winners of these competitions. Although somehow, I don’t think the tone of the criticism is that conscious. But I do believe it teaches us some interesting lessons about how women operate in the workplace and the classroom. If you want to get the best of us, then make your criticism constructive and be sure to praise those elements we are getting right. After all, if you do get the best out of women, believe it or not, they can be a really tremendous asset.