Finally I was navigating across the English countryside heading South East to the M3 interchange, then onto the M25 which paved the way off the downs and onto the grassy lowlands of Kent the garden County of England . Back onto the byways I would be able to release the tension of my hands wrapped around the steering wheel, far removed from the madding Lorries to the left, fast cars to the right, caravans ahead, flashing lights behind. And all the time inches away from death, split seconds of space between the vehicles aside, ahead and behind, a sudden burst tyre and a dozen lives are spent.
When I was eleven I pushed and pulled around with me a trolley made mobile with old pram wheels and makeshift axles, peddle power is traded for horse power. My 1983 Fiat Uno, is pushed and pulled around by a hot 1.3 litre petrol east west engine, maximum speed 85 MPH . Unbalanced wheels, but like my trolley knew only too well, I'm in control, with peddles at foot and wheel at hand, quickly shifting through the gears through roundabouts and rousting the trucks and vans just like sheep to the coral. On this subject, it was the lure of earning many dollars by collecting Marino wool from deceased sheep that lead me down a dusty track to outback paddock tinder dry, shimmering heat haze, and hay stacks under tin roofs. It seemed like another life, far removed from the searing heat, bush fires and bush flies, now cruising across English fields of green. But still with a childish hunger for adventure and still motivated by my youthful introduction to business and textiles dead on a sheep's back.
Business is a road well travelled by me in youth and in grey hair; the paths have been rough and smooth, through dips and dives of profits and losses, from dusty dirt tracks to six lane freeways. Accompanied by a set of principles handed down my Mum and Dad, a road map, some teachings from school, dreams and wishes, and, a dogmatic desire to succeed in all attempts, I've made all that seemed difficult, simple, its changing states of mind.
Powered by adrenalin, as a typical adrenalin junkie without the guts for hang gliding, abseiling, sky diving, white water sport, rock climbing, mine is produced by pursuing more passive adventure, but not with out the fuel that fires adrenalin, fear; as singer song writer Michael Nesmith wrote in one of his obscure songs, which is found on music critics A list of all time worst concept album, "prison" Mike, after being dubbed this award, with tongue in cheek followed up with another turkey, "The Garden" Nesmith was merely pursuing idea's end, he was a great innovator and just did what he wanted to. I align myself with the lyrics in the songs and his philosophy too. Perhaps the critics over looked the inspirational aspect of Mike's concept. The words of just one song are descriptive enough to understand his motivation; "Confrontation conquers fear, hope arises, truth unfolds, fear has no substance of its own". What was Mike implying through his thought provoking lyrics, well you have to read closely to deduce; "we are imprisoned by our own minds and hold the key of release, but ironically are too afraid to unlock the door to the unknown" so we choose to live in fear.
Fear of failure is the fuel that ergs me onward in pursuit of elusive successes. Driving down the A roads in county Kent all kinds of wild imaginings going through my mind, philosophising, analysing, planning, pumping adrenalin. On the subject of fear, I imagined what was going through Mohamed Ali's mind when confronted with the awesome power of Big George Foreman, rated as the hardest punching heavy weight in history. Later Ali admitted that fear motivated and guided him to an unpredictable success over this fearsome opponent. The pain of loosing and the thought of humiliation after many months of talking up his fight predictions, insults, dispersions and taunts kept him upright against the ropes, while George pounded his body with one bomb after another. What makes a man fight 12 rounds after having his jaw broken in the second round? What makes a fighter strike a blow that could kill an ordinary man? "Fear".
So I was hurtling down the motorways, A road and byways, confronting fear, venturing the unknown, playing a new lead role, acting out a dream, setting the stage, living an adventure and conquering fear, the exhilaration of freedom is greater felt.
Meanwhile in Clifton , Margate , Shane McCoubrey, my first appointment is preparing to exhibit his designs, waiting eagerly to be part of this new adventure. By the end of two and a half days the first of a collection of hand made silk ties and cufflinks would be listed for my proposed online shopping service due to be launched in September 2006. And Shane the designer became an anchor brand online; while we watched his products expand across a broader retail market. And he became inspirational to the eventual creation of our own stylised brand. A relationship still inspired and foundationally sound for more three years there is still a long way to travel.
After downing an English breakfast I said farewell to the bed and breakfast over looking the channel waters and headed back to the West Country. The first leg of my new adventure was almost complete, there would be many such legs as I scoured the English country side meeting and interviewing designers, weavers, textile printers, leather workers, jewellers, tie makers, fashion agents, PR agents, copywriters, web designers.
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