I would like to vote for you on the 8th June, I think you have been a good local MP for Wakefield.
Before I am able to vote for you, can you please clarify one of your party’s policies, in particular that of raising the minimum wage to £10 per hour.
I currently co own a small performance marketing business based in Wakefield, employing nearly 20 people.
We have 2 members of staff on minimum wages as we internally train them. With the exception of finance and tech team members, we have trained all our staff, as we are in a very niche market working internationally with no local competition, so there is no locally trained talent pool to recruit from.
So, if a Labour government is elected in June and during the parliament minimum wage goes up by 25%! Surely then everyone currently on £10 per hour needs to get a 25% pay raise too and everyone currently on £15 per hour will expect the same pay rise also?
Now, I appreciate this is a slight extreme example but lets suppose I offered each member of our team a 25% pay raise because we are fair to our staff. That would cost around £10,000 per month, and unable to pass the cost on to our customer -the only way to finance that would be to make 4 members of staff redundant, which in turn would put the whole business in serious jeopardy.
I love the sentiment of a £10 minimum wage but, is it practical? Is this policy a headline grabber to gain easy votes but will never be brought into law? Or is it the real intention of a future Labour government?
In March I received an email from a guy in the data industry inviting me to join a small group of guys and girls cycling to Paris in 24 hours in May. My ego immediately replied saying “hell yes!” 24 hour ride to Paris, what a great Facebook post that would be and what a great way to prove the doubters wrong! I signed up entirely for the wrong reason …….
I am hugely grateful to God that over the last couple of months I have come to understand that most of the decisions I make (made) are made by the 12 year old me! The small boy that still lives on the inside of me and because he is 12 he does not make great decisions because he does not really understand much about life and his reference points are no longer important. He makes decisions to prove other people wrong and to seek worthiness. These decisions are made for reasons like ………..
Always been picked last when sides were chosen for football in PE or the playground – I wonder if the now 41 year old team captains could ride their bikes to Paris in 24 hours? Or my history teacher in year 8 who shouted across the class room “Paul Kemshell why are you so lazy?” 12 year old dyslexics are never lazy they are just trying to come to terms with the fact their brains are wired differently – The 41 year old me even though he has run a multi million pound revenue business for a number of years still does not have the first clue when you use the word “where” or “were” – I wonder if my history teacher would still call me lazy when I arrive at the Eiffel Tower? Or the small group of school bullies who beat me up on an almost daily basis and the wider group of kids that called me “spastic” because I had to wear hideous orthopedic shoes made at the hospital because of my deformed ankle, do you fancy riding to Paris on Friday guys? I was the most uncool kid in school and even had to wait to the age of 22 to have the courage to kiss a girl.
So many of the decisions made since being 12 years old have been made to prove these people wrong, and the original motive for riding to Paris was just yet another one! So much unresolved hurt has been carried into romantic relationships and friendships alike, and innocent people have been hurt by my abrasiveness.
At 4:30am next Saturday morning deep in the Normandy countryside I will be riding my bike in the dark with guys that are turning their pedals because they are talented or because they are super fit. That will not be me and I will not really be enjoying myself excepting the fact that I know I will be deploying the gift that God has given me never to give up and just to keep going. It will be tough, because since doing the IronMan in Bolton in July last year I have only ridden my bike 5 times and only covered 192 miles! I think my bum or as a good friend of mine says “sweet cheeks” might well hurt.
Next Saturday evening I am going to drink a glass of Champagne and celebrate for the first time in nearly 30 years I now know I have absolutely nothing to prove to anyone and that the group of people that love me will not think any more or any less of me if I make it to Paris in 24 hours or not and that I am loveable just the way that I am.
Having split up with my girlfriend for the final time just after Christmas, I was not hugely looking forward to Valentine’s Day! So rather than having a super unproductive day moping about and feeling sorry for myself I decided to drag my silly arse out of bed at 4:30 am and get myself to Horton-in-Ribblehead just before 7am to start the Yorkshire 3 Peaks.
It was a good forecast but good at the bottom does not mean good at the top!
I got near to the top of Pen-Y-Ghent in good time as the new dawn won the battle over the darkness of the previous night, but the wind was horrific and as I reached the snow line which coincided with the low cloud I was blown clean off my feet and landed on my back. The final ascent of Pen-Y-Ghent is a touch tricky in summer, never mind in these conditions – Maybe I could describe myself has heartbroken over what could have been, but I am certainly not suicidal…and besides, a good buddy of mine was airlifted off the same hillside 6 years earlier and found herself on Helicopter Heroes so I really did not want to be accused of copying!
I decided to return to my car as the weather promised to improve and drive to Ribblehead and just do a simple circular and take in Whernside.
On the lower slopes of Whernside, I decided it would be far better to enjoy the journey rather than thinking of punishing myself with a hard day. Forget Strava, forget PB’s and segments and just enjoy the journey.
Which I did!
That 16k walk seemed to become a metaphor for life – some bits were easy, some bits were harder, the path went up and then came down again. At one point I inadvertently stepped off the path and ended up thigh deep in a snow drift and ice slowed the journey. As I descended and visibility returned it was clear that the sun had been shining all along it had just been temporarily obstructed by the local circumstances. With clear sight of the ultimate destination (you cannot miss Ribblehead viaduct) the journey becomes easier and eventually you end up on a newly tarmacked drive way leading you home.
You might not like the circumstances you currently find yourself in, but it’s an outrageous privilege to be alive today. To quote Gary Vaynerchuck “Your mum could have reached for another glass of wine and YOU would have never been born”!