TaPas; a form of Leadership.

During my working career I held leadership roles and was fortunate to undertake a variety of leadership programmes focussing on an array of methods often informed by ethics, values and beliefs. These leadership strategies and tactics would be adopted and adapted to a wide range of situations and people management so that my approach to any issue had a basis in theory and would ensure consistency and confidence in the way I applied my leadership. As a result I have been in a helicopter, watched dancing from a balcony, developed and built a spacecraft, recognised that what I lacked in charisma I could make up with emotional intelligence and importantly differentiate between the transactional and the transformational leadership style that would allow me to flex and adapt to the situational need. Equally in the natural hierarchical order of my organisation I was naturally managed by (mainly men) those balancing the plethora of similar leadership approaches in managing people and situations.

Then I met TaPas. He would admittedly be shocked to read any indication that this piece might be about him, and I also know that he would have read the first line and immediately decided it was not worth continuing; his view would more likely be that it was something he’d rather eat fish and chips from than read. But it is about him and it is about his leadership. Our most effective leaders throughout history have emerged from situations that either afforded them opportunities to lead effectively or to have effortlessly failed. TaPas cannot claim to have emerged from an historic situation but in his own inimitable style I will argue that he was not only effective he effortlessly succeeded.

At first meeting, he doesn’t strike you as charismatic. His shirt is likely to be hanging outside his trousers at the back, his trousers sagging around his shoes indicate he didn’t take much time getting the right fit, something more important going on perhaps. He will be carrying a sheaf of papers, precariously balanced on his briefcase on the outside rather than inside and always in danger of cascading to the floor, creating the potential drama of an additional layer of chaos in his organisation. For those of us onlookers, familiar with this sight we were strangely comforted that, despite the possibility of such chaos befalling him, there was a flurry of yellow post-it notes, carefully ordered containing succinct notations outlining which paper was for which meeting, where he was going, the time, date and person he was addressing. You’d be excused for thinking, “he sounds like a bumbling fool” at first glance you may also form that view, but you’d be the fool if you underestimate TaPas in this way.

He was the only transformational leader I ever worked with. He doesn’t even acknowledge that as a statement, mainly because he effortlessly applied his methods in the absence of theory; he would argue he was just being himself. His management team would walk on hot coals for him such was the bond he developed with us as a team. But the teams on the ground of whom he was in overall charge worshiped him. TaPas put his staff at the heart of every decision, but we adhered to an overt code of ethical behaviour we spent two days discerning and agreeing must inform every decision affecting the division and the individuals who worked there. He placed importance of being present, turning up on the nightshift and wading into battle to support his teams when they needed him most. The Battle of PP as it was later more commonly known created the status of legend. I gained more confidence in my ability in my whole career in those precious years than my whole time in the service. Others might have felt his wrath, but it was never driven by personal or subjective views, rather TaPas was driven in these decisions by a code of ethical behaviour, a moral compass he considered essential to enable him to consistently judge those of us who strayed.

Despite the depth of responsibility he carried every day, there was room for humour and laughter, mainly at his own expense, his own misgivings. Such was the subtlety of his leadership, he was giving us permission to laugh along with him. Equally we protected him; like barbed wire surrounding a wall to prevent intruders climbing over it, we gathered around him prickling at anyone who might seek to usurp his methods. If I reflect on his character and his ambitions he was developing and building each and every one of us both consciously and sub-consciously, effortlessly succeeding in achieving his goals. Then he got ill. We were all so concerned as his behaviour was a bit odd, his driving skills were beginning to resemble his briefcase, always moving in the wrong direction to the rest of the traffic. We secretly shared our concerns and collectively identified we needed to explore this with him, our leader was ill and he needed our support. We rallied in his hour of need, but obviously his family stepped up at this time.

A tumour the size of a tennis ball was removed from his brain, he claimed it was clearly preventing his organisational skills from optimal functionality. He called me the day after the operation and I could visualise him dancing around the ward in his tie up the back gown, naturally untied and gaping, his backside most likely hanging out as he shared his delight and glee at the success of this serious operation. I stopped my car, as I was on the A9 at the time heading back to the Danders, and I wept tears of relief and joy that my great friend had been saved. When I next saw him the dark shadows below his eyes had disappeared and his cheeky cockney smile reached all the way to his forehead.

As with everything in life, things change, its a constant, and we are advised our leadership can adapt to it. But not when its been along with a transformational leader. You are going to miss that style, that affirmation, that approach. Soon our team dispersed. Scattered to the four winds. But such was the bond we had nurtured we determined that we would continue to meet, to celebrate this unique relationship under TaPas’ leadership and what better way than over food and wine. When there are a few of you agreeing on the kind of food we would like to share, a collegiate decision is almost too difficult to reach. But Tapas was the resounding vote as it provided us with a variety that reflected the team; a miasma of dishes to suit all tastes, reflecting our personalities a fiery chili and prawns, sweet and crispy chicken, round robust meatballs, melodramatic patatas bravas, flirty anti-pasta. The slow yet timely delivery of the dishes was reminiscent of the ruminations of our team meetings, the delicious wines and jugs of beer enabled a relaxation that permitted us to settle into smaller more intimate groups chatting and comfortably sharing our stories and news before musical chairs commenced and we drifted with stumbling ease into the next seat and initiated the chatter all over again. And not a single post-it note was in sight. TaPas enjoying Tapas with his team and over time that team included partners and those quarterly meetings continued until COVID changed it all.

One man created some of the greatest memories of my career, the most harmonious team I ever worked with and became one of my closest friends. The Tapas Crew our Whatsapp group name is indicative of what real leadership might achieve beyond your working life and a reminder that for some we can rely on theory of course, but real leaders are doing it in their sleep. Oh and its his birthday today, Happy Birthday TaPas……..

Mrs Gran at the Village School

I have purposely not blogged a great deal about the pandemic; so little happening in our lives and such a difficult time for everyone. It is not that I haven’t had time on my hands, but to be honest the dramas have been few and far between. As the restrictions tighten their stranglehold on our lifestyle there is little opportunity for drama that is interesting. I do try to stay loyal to my theme sharing only dramas from home and abroad, and if there are none well… I can hear the Lion sighing with relief on that one… I cannot write too much about nothing, can I ?

Following the Christmas break, life returned to the tight confines of The Danders, and it was becoming dull again. The Christmas Trees were tidily packed away, the fairy lights twinkles doused and abandoned in a box. The flashing strobes removed from the outside walls, their alternating colours no longer suggesting a police car had pulled up outside. Then in a sign of things to come the schools holidays were extended for another week. Parents around the country, stoked up on Gin, home working AND home schooling would surely take them to the brink of addiction.

This announcement actually coincided with an abundant snowfall and suddenly the challenges of being hemmed in the house were forgotten as the air was filled with the sounds of children’s chatter and howls of delight as snowballs crisscrossed the street and sledging replaced Mario Cart. Parents, glad of the period of respite, swarmed around the takeaway coffee shop before heading to the local hill with kids and sledges and dogs in tow. Suddenly the Village was buzzing with life and the combination of sunshine and snow returned a lifeless street to a bustling winter wonderland with socially distant observations. It was amidst these freezing but delightful conditions, the First Minister took the decision to close the schools as the pandemic developed a new and more concerning strain.

Home Schooling was the bane of all parents lives during the last lockdown. The media exhausted the perspectives of parents, teachers and of course children and young people in endless news coverage, confirming what everyone felt last time; home schooling was a difficult job, no matter who was calling it. I paid no heed to this unfolding development taking only a passing interest in something that was likely to have very little impact on me. That’s what I thought, but all that changed as my grandchildren needed to reside with me two nights and three days a week as their parents were both Key workers. Suddenly I was looking down the barrel of the home school vortex but I relished the challenge.

Ironically the house next door in its former role as “The Old School House” was much more familiar with the sound of children reciting their tables than The Danders, but they were doing their own version of home schooling there and we couldn’t join them due to restrictions. I’d never trained as a teacher and despite being a professional trainer for a period there was something a bit daunting about the challenge ahead of me, not least that my grandson was in P1 and my grand daughter was in P6. The last time I was in a classroom it was all about blackboards and desks with lids and fixed seats. Imagine my horror when a series of laptops and tablets arrived along with the usual bags of clothes and games that accompanied the children on their sleepovers. I was emailed the weekly planners for each child all that was required was to organise my classroom.

As with every good teacher I spent the evening reviewing how my day would run, a quick review of the planners suggested a busy couple of days ahead and it is fair to say I had an idyllic concept of how things might work. Then the proverbial hit the fan. The Christmas break had taken its toll on early rises, and the kids seemed to have forgotten to read my plans. I was up and dressed but had to spend the next half hour switching between bedrooms to get them awake and ready for school, as a result we were fashionably late Once I had them assembled and eating breakfast my first task was to delineate the boundaries between home and school. “Welcome boys and girls” I chanted in my best teacher’s voice pitching it at the right tone inciting motivation and and positivity . “Good Morning”. “What will we call you?” piped up the little tiger. After some thought I said Mrs C would be fine, but the mermaid did not like that at all. “Mrs Gran” smirked the little tiger and this brought giggles so it was decided this school would be fun and Mrs Gran was inducted as principal teacher of the Danders Village School.

Lessons in my day centred around jotters and carbon pencils, peppered with playtime, what ever the weather, and toilets with carbolic soap. Now we had SeeSaw and Microsoft Teams, with interactive classrooms and video messaging between teacher and pupil. I totally underestimated the way the little tiger would be able to manage the technology and overestimated how much I would be able to master it. Two calls to my daughter later I was able to open the APP and find the work assignments for the day. I had not considered that time would fly past so much more quickly than I had been used to, nor how much the teacher time on Video Calls would eat into my perfectly well orchestrated plan for the day. “Is it break time yet?” And that was just me. Between calls scheduled with their teachers at different times, coordinating playtime and preparing lunch, I found my hope of achieving any lesson before 12 virtually impossible.

As I attempted to assist the mermaid with her Maths I did not realise that models had been introduced to help with short division, and I don’t mean the Kate Moss variety. It took me nearly a whole hour to get my head around the method of learning to enable us to complete this complex task. Across the table I caught a glimpse of the wine rack and longingly thought of my retirement plans before the pandemic took hold, wistfully hoping they might soon return. Focusing back on the Math the mermaid had completed the initial work but the flashing HAND IN LATE on her assignment sent us both into apoplexy as it dawned on me there was only an hour left in the day to get through the 4 assignments we had yet to tackle. My perfectly styled hair flopped untidily into my eyes from all the fingers running through it as I tried to console her admitting it was Mrs Grans first failure. She sensed I was not coping bless her, and hugged me. “Can we leave it till tomorrow?” she pleaded. “Of course” I smiled, Mrs Gran, secretly delighted; I was exhausted.

Meanwhile the Lion had been left to manage the little tiger who was running rings around him. With horror I realised I had missed the 3pm check in call with the teacher and collapsed defeated into the chair. His 8 assignments had been completed and I reviewed the videos, pictures and answer sheets he had uploaded (largely unaided) to demonstrate he had gotten through the day relatively unscathed. I read with some satisfaction the congratulatory messages from his teacher as the little tiger poked me in the arm to get my attention “Mrs Gran” he enquired “what are we having for dinner………………….”

And I am not working, not a teacher, not even a good pretend teacher, and my grandchildren’s future depended on it. The Danders Village School and Mrs Gran needed to up its game, only tomorrow would tell whether or not we achieved it..