I have somehow reached the age of 60 and I'm not sure how I feel about that. 60 is a milestone age and a proper one for once. 50 was fine, 50 was just a half-century, it didn't mean anything. 40 was merely a number to make the middle-aged feel uncomfortable, nothing tangible actually happened. 30 was an inconsequential blur that only a vain 29 year-old could ever be flustered by. But hit 60 and things are different, there are actual changes to the way you're treated. teens. 16 meant I could shag, 17 meant I could drive and 18 meant I could drink and vote. But after 18 any age-related benefits were generally minor, like being able to go to better nightclubs or get an HGV licence. 60 is suddenly a properly significant birthday again, which after 42 years of insignificance comes as a bit of a jolt. 60 is also when society starts to offer you rewards in recognition of your age. Suddenly you're a 'Senior' and all sorts of nice little concessions kick in like cheaper haircuts, cut price cinema tickets, £4 off admission at Coventry Transport Museum or 10% off shopping at Iceland on a Tuesday. Not everywhere is so generous, so for example Kew Gardens and the Tower of London make you wait until you're 65 and the London Eye charges everyone over 16 the same. But before today I would never even have bothered to look at the Concessions tab and now suddenly it might be well worth it. (ooh, National Trust Senior Membership is 25% off the normal subscription and I am now eligible, that's how useful checking rewards for today's post has been) Bow Geezers, and they appear to be having a cheerily excellent time every time they meet up but I could have joined that at 55 and I didn't. 60 is just a number with a zero on the end, a number we choose to see as special. I was going to say that it's only special because we count in 10s but in fact it'd have a zero on the end if we counted in 2s, 3s, 4s, 5s, 6s, or 12s instead, indeed of all the years in the human lifespan it's the year with the greatest number of factors so maybe that means it really is fundamentally special after all. 60 is when older people start to welcome you to their world. "See," they say, "it's not so bad. 60 was nothing, it's 70 you need to worry about... or 75/80 depending. 60 is merely piddly foothills, we need not speak of it, but by the way welcome to the club." 60 was once the start of the countdown towards death. When I was born in 1965 the average life expectancy for men was about 68, indeed neither of my grandfathers got past 70. It's very different today, thankfully, with the ONS website confirming that the average 60 year-old male has a life expectancy of 84 with a 1 in 4 chance of reaching 92. The Grim Reaper's still coming, indeed could cut you down anytime, but he's a lot further away than previous generations expected. kicked back, in terms of state pension to 67 and stretching further later, so no longer the employment guillotine it used to be nor the dawn of pipe and slippers leisure. niggles at present but with the potential to one day properly scupper things, though I fervently hope I'll be able to get to 70 and say they still haven't. I used my Senior Railcard for the first time yesterday to take me to the Essex village where my grandmother met my grandfather. She was the cleaner in the pub and he was the dishy postman on his daily rounds, and she'd lean out of the window for a chat and that's how it all started. It's a restaurant now and sadly wasn't open so I couldn't go in, but I did pause for a while and ponder the significance of the windows that led to my Mum being born and me being here today. In particular it made me realise that the elderly couple I'd only known in their 60s were once young and playful and hopeful and happy, and you should never judge people on how old they are now but on a lifetime of achievement. 60 is strange because for everyone else it's just a normal Sunday whereas as for me and the other 2350 Britons born on 9th March 1965 it's a potential existential crisis. 60 is an unwelcome eyeopener. 60 is well special. 60 is nothing. 60 is what you make of it.

What makes a person entrepreneurial? Professor Saras D. Sarasvathy believes the distinguishing factor is in the reasoning process. She identifies two types of reasoning: When you think with causal reasoning, you focus on what you want to do—the desired end goal, or the destination—and then work backwards from that. Business leaders, managers, and strategists tend […] The post Causal and effectual reasoning appeared first on Herbert Lui.

Five questions for the price of one What does the bottom of the Thames look like? You can't see normally the bottom of a tidal river because it's covered by a huge amount of water. But at low tides some of the bed appears, at spring tides more appears and at spring tides near the equinoxes a lot more than normal appears. This was Silvertown Reach earlier in the week, just upstream from the Thames Barrier, a couple of days after the new moon which tends to be when the highest and lowest spring tides take place. I unintentionally turned up close to low tide and was amazed by the extent of the slope of riverbed extending down to the shallow water's edge. What's more it wasn't excessively muddy like it can be further downstream, more a compacted surface of sand and mud with thin stripes of gravel. I got a particularly good view by standing halfway down Royal Wharf Pier, perched above a broad swathe that was much more beach than quagmire, and was considerably more uniform and featureless than I might have been expecting. Obviously not all of the Thames riverbed through London looks like this but it does feel fairly representative - no rocks, no piles of litter, no magic undersea kingdoms, just a smoothish surface swept by the tides twice a day and never fully revealed. What happened to Bethnal Green's gasholders by the Regents Canal? You know the ones on the bend in the canal by Cambridge Heath Road close to Broadway Market. They became flats of course, or rather they're in the process of becoming flats, much like the cluster up at King's Cross did. Developers St William specialise in challenging sites and in this case are slotting a stack of residential wedges inside the ironwork to create something whose exterior is mostly balconies and which looks entirely un-heritage. The two original structures are being accompanied by three separate cylindrical towers each on a former gasholder footprint, and they look a tad more garish. The development's been named Regent's View, despite the fact most residents won't be able to see the canal, and its 555 premium apartments for well-off incomers are currently being marketed via a depressingly familiar brochure. "One of East London’s most desirable addresses" yadda yadda "urban village surrounded by artisanal shops" yadda yadda "a truly exciting new destination" yadda yadda "The vibrant colours draw inspiration from the local area’s energy, blending the past and present while introducing a bold vision for the future" bleeeurgh. Much is made of the fact that the City is three minutes away by tube, and less that this requires walking 12 minutes to Bethnal Green first. Obviously it's great that London's housing stock is being increased and that the gasholders are being preserved, but looking at the end result they might as well not have been. What's London's most oppressive park now Lyle Park isn't? Lyle Park was a gift to the people of Silvertown from golden syrup magnate Sir Leonard Lyle in 1924, a thin riverside park tucked into a tiny gap between a petroleum depot, varnishing works and engineering sheds. If you've ever been you'll know it's unexpectedly lovely with ornamental gardens, a brief river terrace and a decent kickabout space, hence much appreciated locally. But for several decades it's only had one entrance, an 200m-long track alongside tennis courts, leading to a park sealed off from its surroundings and overlooked by nobody. "I like it here," I've often thought, "but if anyone with malicious intent turned up I'd have absolutely no means of escape nor any way of attracting attention and that makes me very uncomfortable". Now suddenly all that's changed with the completion of the Riverscape development at Royal Wharf. Riverscape is essentially a wall of flats tacked on to the western edge of a dense urban development, but with gardens that deliberately and directly connect into Lyle Park. Now you can finally walk into the park from the Thames-side promenade and also via a new gate halfway along, and suddenly it's an integral accessible patch of loveliness which the developers have essentially bolted on for free. It feels utterly safe here now, hurrah, which makes me wonder what London's most oppressive park must be now Lyle Park isn't. Why is Tower Hamlets so bad at recycling? DEFRA checked, is my home borough of Tower Hamlets where only 18% of potential recyclables are collected. It's a challenging location, not least because as many as 88% of the borough's homes are flats or maisonettes, and you can't just stick a bin in the garden when there isn't one. A lot of us therefore have to leave our recycling in pink bags at the kerbside, made harder by the fact our libraries never seem to have a stock of them, and many's the time I've thought why am I even bothering. recently rearranged and retimed the hours you're allowed to leave your bags out. Previously this was early morning and very late night only, with a truck rumbling along the road immediately afterwards to collect everything. That's now been lengthened to two two-hour slots at less insomniac times of day, which should be better, as part of the council's implementation of their Commercial and Household Waste Regulations 2024. really hard to do when everyone's in flats. The idea is you drop your food waste into the top of the black roadside bin, which has gold lettering on the front and on the lid trying to make it clear it's for 'food waste only'. But not unexpectedly passers-by are using them for general litter instead, there being hardly any proper litter bins hereabouts, hence you can often see bottles, cans and takeaway detritus poking out of the top, and I suspect this well-meaning plan will turn out to be unmanageable. How annoying are ambiguous signs? This sign has appeared by the roadside in Woolwich High Street, and it's not the only place one has materialised. Ostensibly it alerts drivers that the Silvertown Tunnel will be opening on 7th April 2025, which is fair enough. But underneath it says, indeed instructs, 'Use Blackwall Tunnel', and what on earth is that about? Is it telling drivers to use the Blackwall Tunnel now, which is obvious because you can't use the other tunnel before it's opened? Is it telling drivers to use the Blackwall Tunnel now and switch to the Silvertown Tunnel later, which feels superfluous? Or is it saying that even when the Silvertown Tunnel opens you should continue to use the Blackwall Tunnel for some unspecified reason, which feels odd? This sign is particularly close to the Woolwich Ferry so maybe it's a hint that if the ferry's closed then the Blackwall Tunnel is a better option and the Silvertown Tunnel won't be, but I don't think that's true. All that's clear is that whoever wrote this sign knows what they meant, but unfortunately they haven't conveyed this meaning to passing motorists. And how pointlessly annoying is that?