Experiment.

You need this invitation … to experiment.

Every day, every moment of your life contains uncertainty.  No one knows what the future holds, even the future just a short few seconds away.  As I write, and you read this, neither of us knows what is just around the corner. Your corner. My corner: joy or sorrow, good or bad, life or death, ‘win’ or ‘lose’.  No one knows.  Life – each and every day – is an experiment, with billions of ‘unknowns’.  Everything – everything! –  we think about the future is speculation to one degree or another.

Find the (slightly) mad scientist in your heart.
Find the (slightly) mad scientist in your heart.

 

Navigator.

Yet we manage to navigate our way through these exploding billions of predictably unpredictable happenings, learning from them, adjusting to them, taking advantage of them, and even enjoying them. And as we grow up, we begin to recognise and react to these patterns, noticing how things happen, together and in order, and how we can profoundly rely on them to guide us through our never-twice-the-same inner and outer worlds. And how something we do seems to affect what happens around us. A baby’s physical hungry cry produces real actual milk spilling from its mother’s breast (how does that happen?) or perhaps a warmed version of nutritious something in a plastic bottle!

"Hmmm... I wonder what is going to happen?"
“Hmmm… I wonder… ?”

Experimenter.

Reflecting on this recently (experimenting, not breast feeding!) I thought about how I can be more the Experimenter than the experiment.  I’m not a fatalist.  I don’t accept that we are all caught up in a hopeless universal inevitability, because I don’t believe it’s true. I believe that to some extent I – each of us – can significantly influence what happens around me, and what happens beyond that. There’s no such thing as a failed experiment, just an unexpected result. I also believe that I am first of all a spiritual being, in a different realm from that perceived fatalistic inevitability, and that the spiritual part of me has huge unknown power. It breathes with the creative freedom-giving breath of its Creator.

Butterfly in Brazil? I swimmer in the 2016 Rio Olympics.
Butterfly in Brazil? A swimmer in Rio.

Creator.

Once I understand that a butterfly in Brazil can cause a hurricane in another part of the world, then choosing to alter my habitual behaviour today, given time, will indeed make the world different from what it would have been. And I believe that everything is connected in some way. You, me, that butterfly, everyone else and the Creator. Flapping my wings differently (or choosing not to) will just as inevitably change things somewhere. We cannot NOT communicate.

So how is that going to affect what you think, say and do today as you leave this blog?

Experiment. You cannot fail.

(Then let me know what happened.)

“I AM HERE” What on earth …

The latest Sercombe motorbike adventure was to the Outer Hebrides.  Just me, my big BMW R1200GS and my red tent.  In case you’ve never been there – and few people round West Sussex have as it’s 730 miles away –  this string of islands is off the northwest coast of Scotland, windy, rainy and cold.

And in the middle of a mile-long deserted pristine beach I saw this:

Version 2

No footprints anywhere near, except mine, and by the time I left my idyllic wild campsite overlooking the sea, the engraving was no more – washed away by the waves.

Of course it was me. In a moment of spontaneous inspiration I carved “I AM HERE” with my foot in the sand – and the thought dominated my week, as I contemplated my life, my business, God, the universe, and my future. Today I’ve been thinking about it again as I camped out last night in the wilds of the South Downs catching up with some reading.  A bit existentialist I know, but the truth is, I am here, and I will be ‘here’ for a while yet.  Wherever I am, I AM.  It’s the inescapable truth, and on the basis that the truth frees us, I’m enjoying the freedom.

Yep, I’m here, and it is up to me to make of it what I will.

I’m not on that beach any more. I am here instead, writing this blog.  I moved on, came back to Sussex, and I’m two weeks older, and although I have a camera full of Hebridean photos – Butt of Lewis lighthouse, the rocky hillsides of Harris, Benbecula, Eriskay, and a welcoming pink roofed cafe in Lochmaddy – I can never, ever, recapture that moment on the beach.

In times of quiet solitude I become particularly aware of the presence of God ‘here’, where I am, with me.  It is as if He has said, not written in sand but whispered as a permanent statement deep within, “Andrew, I am here” – wherever I am, always. Regardless of the ups and downs of my life, I’m never actually alone. The Divine Presence, the Creator, present in the world He created.  With me. Here. Now. For ever.

And today that is sufficient for me.  In fact overwhelmingly more so.  Far more important than success, or money. God is here.

And He is where you are too – such is the omnipresent nature of the Holy Spirit.  Unhampered by the limitations of time and space, God is with you as you read this on your screen – closer, actually.

3000 years ago a gifted young shepherd on the run from his tormentors wrote about it. Stunningly poetic, he wrapped it up in a way I’ll never be able to.  I’ve put a few key bits of his poem for you to read quietly before you move on into the rest of your week. Take a few moments – ten minutes? – to stop and reconnect. And whilst you’ll already know that I am here for you today (yes, me, Andrew. Just a phone or Skype call or email away), far more importantly, He is too.

Enjoy.

E:  andrew@powerchange.com   M: 07771631945  Skype: andrewsercombe  Website: www.powerchange.com

Moving out of the Quit Zone

I recently found myself in the Quit Zone again, that patch of a project, a friendship, maybe a job – and for some people, even life itself – where the desire to quit is very strong. Or maybe very VERY strong.

It surfaces as a response to other highly motivating emotions like disappointment, failure (again), rejection, and shame, or ignorance, incapacity and pain.IMG_2536

I’ve been in the Quit Zone many times, and the decision I made each time changed my life. Every Quit Zone decision does. As I look back on decades of decisions, most of them were just fine, the normal decisions we make in choosing our way forward. I work on the theory that in general, given time, one choice tends to emerge as the favourite ‘obvious’ one, so I go for it. Or not, as the case may be! When it is not so clear, either choice will be fine – I just need to make one.

But more serious Quit Zone decisions are different. The stakes are higher. They usually involve your career, your health, your financial security, and those you really love, and draw out the need to address high value character traits – courage, resilience, boldness, emotional strength.

I want to quit when:

  • I’m facing abuse, rejection or deliberately being ignored.
  • It seems the only way out of a perceived trap.
  • I want to revert to being a little boy, not a man.
  • I have run out of energy and am very tired.
  • The next ‘step’ is actually a massive leap with seemingly huge consequences.
  • Self pity kicks in.
  • I stop caring.

Although quitting is undoubtedly the wisest decision sometimes, quitting brings its own set of new problems that have to be faced and overcome.

Revelation – you can be better without being bitter

In the apocalyptic end-of-the-world vision called the Book of Revelation – the writer, banished to work in the mines of a small Greek island as punishment for sticking with his religious beliefs, writes to a little community in Laodicea on the mainland. He describes his vision of God saying to these people in effect:

“You don’t have what it takes right now.
I’m knocking on your door. Open the door to my help.
I will strengthen you, toughen you up so that you can overcome the challenges you face.
It will be a bit of a furnace, but you’ll come through it richer, more refined, without the shame you currently feel, and victorious.”

Note that the reward is for those who overcome, not to those who have no battle, nor those who have backed away from the fire, nor those who have never experienced the Quit Zone. Tough times can make the man and woman however young or old they are.

Tough people press through the challenge and reemerge on the other side ‘better, not bitter’.

If you’re in the Quit Zone today, decide what you want, act towards it, see what happens, and adjust. It may turn out differently from what you fear.

It has for me.

Feel Like You are on a Lead?

The only reason, it seems to me, that we tame an animal is for our benefit. To have it work for us, feed us, entertain us, rescue us, protect us, guide us – or for use as a pet, a cuddly toy, or a plaything, or to bet on its performance. Of course we look after it and care for it, but it has no real choice.

‘Tamed’ is for animals …

SnapnDrag619
Feel like you are on a lead? Trapped? Tamed? That isn’t what you were designed for. (c)www.dailymail.co.uk

… NOT people. How many men and women do you know who have been tamed – by their wife, partner, husband, children, parents, boss, school, college, or professional body?

Tamed: Brought into line. Forced to comply. Bullied into submission.  “So break their spirit. Trick them into being controlled. Without them realising until it is too late.”

And there is always a plausible excuse: Order. Safety. Control. The Money.  “It’s for the best.”

How have you been tamed?
Emasculated. Enslaved. Indentured. Dehumanised. Handcuffed to a job, a way of life, a habit, a culture, a partner, a pay cheque, a trauma, a professional body, a thought pattern. Brought under control. Subject to the will, whim or pleasure of another. Tamed by greater power, physical violence, pain, fear, psychotherapeutic drugs, a court, money. Think about it.

In people, tame is not good. You were designed to be free, able to choose at least something of your destiny, without others interfering, limiting, cracking the whip, or writing an unnecessary prescription. Designed to be free, not impoverished or imprisoned, or chemically coshed.

Weakness tames us, whether caused by any of the above, or by poverty, ignorance, violence, shame, or injustice.

Powerchange, on the other hand does the opposite. The Powerchange team is here to strengthen, liberate, and educate you. To free you. Our therapeutic coaching moves people out of the grip of shame, injustice and life-taming drugs (however well-intentioned the prescription) and, yes, clients ARE shocked when they realise how straightforward it was to ‘come free’, and how staying free is not a burden.

If this blog echoes with you, if you have found yourself on a lead, living a tamed life, surrendered, snared or struggling to resist (or snarling behind the bars) then please call me. Call me on my Direct Access number: 07771631945, or email andrew@powerchange.com.     Let me help you find your hidden power.

And if you are free but have a friend or colleague who you suspect is being or has been tamed, whisper the word ‘Powerchange’ into their ear. Whisper it slowly “P-o-w-e-r-ch-a-n-g-e”and link us up – you’ll know how best to do that.

Courage and a Course.

You know, there are people who think its not the ‘done thing’ to be passionate about what you know is good. It’s regarded as pushy, or arrogant. But think about that.  When you know that a person will never be the same again, will have their lives redefined, and their hearts and hopes brought alive again, well, in my view that’s priceless. And to withhold that knowledge because of fear of what people might think? It isn’t very loving is it?  Whether or not you join us on this PCS (see below), perhaps this blog will encourage you to be a little more courageous in speaking out. Sometimes you need to, don’t you?  So here goes…

For months people have been pestering me (in the nicest possible way, of course!) with questions like:  “When are you going to run another Coach Training course?” or “I’m looking for some more CPD – you do coaching skills training, don’t you?” and “I so need to upgrade my Powerchange skills!”

Well, ITS HERE – the Powerchange Coaching Skills course!  And yes, I AM delighted with it.  It looks to be a fantastic ten days (five monthly weekends) – starts 16thMarch – full of state-of-the-art information on how people change, powerful skills for you to practice, lots of insights and at the heart of it all, our regular compassion to make the world a (much) better place to live in, not least by improving ourselves.  I don’t always live up to my motto to ‘be part of the answer not part of the problem’, but this course is definitely part of the answer, and YOU are invited on board. In fact we would love to have you join us.

Join us.  You'll never be the same again.
Join us. You’ll never be the same again.

Yes, please apply – and if you can’t make it, click all the necessary Twitter and Facebook boxes on this page to ensure your friends know about it – or come with them, because unless we get the message out and get ourselves skilled, we cannot proactively make the difference we all want. (There is absolutely no need to be hampered by ignorance or apathy these days.) My guarantee is that no one will wish they hadn’t come. And anyone you invite will thank you for recommending it to them. And it is so affordable.

At the risk of getting myself in trouble for putting my phone number on a blog page, call me personally for more. leave a message/text on 07771631945, or email me: andrew(at)powerchange.com, and I’ll get back to you asap. I’m so looking forward to us meeting up on the course. I wonder what will happen for you on those weekends.

Maybe you’ll learn, among all the other things, how you can coach yourself and others towards greater courage?!

See you there   😉

Coming Home.

This story continues from last year’s Christmas blog. If you’ve not read it already, it might provide an enjoyable minute or two. If you did read it at the time, pop back for a second visit before you read Part 2.

Here is Part 2 of the story…

Mrs Winchester never slept like a baby normally.  The doctor had described her early wakefulness in various ways, and diagnosed ‘Marriage Anxiety Syndrome’ (DSM-IV 326a) resulting in an ‘over-active sense of responsibility’. She lived with that subtle underlying anxiety of one who cares a lot for the needy – and there was no doubt that Max came into that category. She was, in her words, a light sleeper.  Max, on the other hand was having the time of his life.

Having recovered a little of his decorum following his stumbling across baby Jesus and his teenage parents in the stable, he grabbed his iPad and began writing his journal. He recorded every last detail: the clothes the shepherds were wearing (‘headgear like a tea towel at home’), the state of the stable (‘warm, though smelly’) and discretely omitted Mary’s struggle with feeding Jesus for the first time (he had quietly nipped into the inn for that bit). It was only then that he realised he had a bar or two of Wifi (it was free in the inn), so promptly whizzed off an email explaining where he was and what was happening, to Mrs Winchester, who was duly dumbfounded. She phoned the Community Support Officer again to tell her she’d found Max and heard her snigger for the second time.

Max headed for a hour or two of sleep. He dreamt he heard angels singing, Max 35. Angels.but was wakened finally by the revving of cars in the road below his window. Three massive blacked-out limmos were parked on the curb, complete with their minders and an escort car or two. He slipped his shoes back on and headed for the stable again, there to find a selection of eastern dignitaries gathered round the manger/crib. They were chatting quietly to Mary and Joseph as Jesus slept, and he noticed them handing the young couple some little gifts wrapped in the poshest of wrapping paper.  Max took a picture with his iPad and emailed it home.  “Bethlehem” he thought to himself, “will never be the same after this night, and neither will I.” He proved to be right on both counts.

It was a few days later he decided to head home. Boxing Day had come and gone, and he’d been able to sleep off some of his weariness. It was with a palpable sense of relief that he pressed the “Go Home” button on his TomTom, and waited (ages) while it planned his route through Lebanon, Syria, Turkey, Bulgaria, Serbia and Hungary, into Austria and Germany and back to the Channel. Bluewater seemed a long way away.

He only got lost six times, and broke down just the once – as he was driving round the southern edge of Lake BalatonBalaton – about half way home. Most of the time he slept in the Fiesta, but occasionally he allowed himself the comparative luxury of a comfy bed in a wayside inn.

Max’s final stop was at the side of the road a few miles from his house. He pulled into a little car park on a hill overlooking a beautiful view – you know the sort. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go home, it was just that he was overwhelmed by an inexplicable desire to cry. For a few minutes he managed to contain himself, but finally he surrendered.
For the first time in thirty eight years, he sobbed and sobbed, calmed himself and sobbed some more. Wave after wave of tears engulfed him.  He was shocked to find he couldn’t stop. His body ached with the emotional outburst. Somewhere within his brain he remembered something about the symptoms of PTSD, but he couldn’t care less right now. He knew something deep was happening to him and continued to cry.

When finally his tears ended he noticed the sun was setting – the huge red orb making its way inexorably towards the darkening horizon.  As he sat quietly he felt a sense of peace begin to trickle under the door of his heart. Max put his head back on the headrest. All he could think of was that baby. Somehow the peace he felt was connected to the little newborn child resting innocent and contented in that grotty stable, though he found it impossible to figure out quite how.  He remembered a couple of lines of a T.S.Eliot poem about Magi going to see Jesus, and how they felt. “We returned to our places, these kingdoms, but no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation...” He would look it up when he got home. He felt like that too … no longer at ease … old dispensation. Weird. He started the engine.

Mrs Winchester was delighted to see him back. He was even quieter than normal – which is saying something. Preoccupied. Contemplative. Stronger. More relaxed in a way. Nothing seemed to matter to him in quite the same way, and despite her efforts she couldn’t get him to open up. “I’ll tell you all about it sometime, my dear,” he told her.

And one day he did.

Bet you don’t know what an NDSA is!

No, not the National Digital Stewardship Alliance, or the Northumberland and Durham Swimming Association or one of the other 39 abbreviations on Google!  This NDSA is something you can do for yourself every day and live happier, more content and with less emotional pain.  I know, sounds … interesting?

For anyone in the mental health world, either as a patient, therapist or GP, an NDSA is a godsend.

‘ND’ stands for ‘Non-Drug’.  Anything non-drug means you are not going to suffer any pharmacological side effects from taking a drug. Whether those drugs are illegal substances or whether they are legal, prescribed or not, you won’t get ANY side effects. Indeed a godsend when unwanted side effects are one of the biggest challenges the medical profession has to face.

The ‘SA’ stands for ‘Sensory Adjustment’ and that is good news for anyone who is easily overwhelmed, has to handle high workplace or domestic stress, tends towards bi-polar behaviour, or just wants some peace thank you.

So there we have it:  Non-Drug Sensory Adjustment, NDSA.  You can make those adjustments yourself or get some Powerchange coaching to avoid the pitfalls (and occasional impossibilities) of DIY psychology. And there will be more on the Powerchange website in the next few days. I’ll keep you in touch via Twitter if you’re into that.

NDSA is set to make a significant difference to those who are hunting for a more relaxed approach to life, without surrendering their futures to drugs – from caffeine to …  Exactly.

It means just what it says. Your brain uses over a hundred different carefully balanced chemicals to keep you thinking straight. Sometimes they don’t work as we want and the traditional approach is to intervene with a drug – from “I need some strong coffee” and  and “I must have a cigarette” to a visit to the doctor for a course of anti-depressant or sleeping potion. But more often than not there is another way. With an NDSA you change the sensory input into that brain so the chemical balance is restored naturally.

A physical comparison would be an injured leg. Few people would resort to wearing a calliper when your leg can be helped to grow strong and support you properly with some physiotherapy. NDSA coaching is a kind of ‘physiotherapy for the brain’. Instead of needing constant support well into the future (with all the chafing arm-pit side effects of a psychological crutch or the pressures of a wheelchair), you grow strong, reducing the sensory impact of past experiences or ongoing present stress, and moving forward in your life as an emotionally healthy person.

If you are a health professional and you want a downloadable pdf on Powerchange Coaching, that will be on the website sometime next week. Or email me direct:  andrew@powerchange.com and I’ll send you a copy.  It explains the bio-technical neurological principles behind NDSA. Here’s a great pic that says it all:

Here’s to a non-drug and side-effect-free future for many more people in the UK.

Shrapnel. Unexploded bombs. What’s your story?

Working with a company this week or so I have spent seven days coaching just twenty two people. They came from ten different nationalities. Thankfully the company has a very enlightened approach to performance coaching, accepting that lives are not compartmentalised and that what happens on the inside profoundly affect the outside. We’re working on both of course because performance matters in these straitened times, but inside comes first.

Time revealed truth, as it eventually seems to do. Just three of them, maybe four, had a reasonably secure happy past. Most were doing their very best to live well despite the past, yet had jumped to unhelpful conclusions about life in general and their lives in particular – conclusions that were affecting and reflected in their day to day perceptions of the world, their company, their performance and their relationships. All of them were sincere thoughtful genuine people.

Most were experiencing significant emotional pain with bits (sometimes seriously debilitating chunks) of life’s shrapnel still lodged in hard-to-get-at places in their thoughts. Some were tiptoeing round ‘unexploded bombs’ in their lives. With each, and with the tenderest of touches, together we collaborated in that ‘access and removal’ process. With the shrapnel now dealt with and the bombs defused – and the associated emotional infection being treated – those amazing, hard-working and committed people will be able to achieve a better version of ‘best’ for themselves and the company, and build their entire futures differently, on a much safer and more trustworthy foundation.

The glad-or-sad thing about this is that for most (some will definitely need more time) it took just a two hour or so session to achieve this.  Glad we could do it so efficiently, with little pain and only a few tears. Sad that we weren’t together to do it ten years ago. At least their futures now look less trapped by the past and will require less determination and inner fight. From this week they will be able to live more kind to themselves and each other.

There is already a different atmosphere emerging, with more open (and lighter) faces. What a difference that will make to the fortunes of this passionate and award-winning company full of such treasure-able and highly intelligent people!

And then there’s your story. I’m waiting to find out what the next chapter holds.

Two of my top mentors

It’s a con. You don’t need confidence to do things.  You need unstoppable determination. I’ve learned that again this week from two of my top mentors.

Katie and Joseph's temporary laboratory. Mine too.

I’ve spent the last week or so watching them learning to do new things. In the last year these two obsessed little toddlers have gone from only being able to suckle and cry to walking, learning a new language, mimicking adults, collaborating with complete strangers, performing stand-up comedy, learning building techniques and mastering their own version of ‘sales skills’.

There’s no stopping them. From early morning till early evening, with a hour’s break or two in the middle, they’ve  been obsessed with experimenting to find out what works in life and what doesn’t, and how to get people to help them. They don’t know it but if they stop learning new things they’ll start to die.

Fearlessly they’ve climbed stairs (one step at a time), learned to get past anything in their way (one obstacle at a time), eaten unfamiliar foods (one spoonful at a time), and generally sucked life dry (one second at a time).

Not overly concerned about what people think, yet looking out for the admiration of anyone who happens to be in the vicinity, they’ve explored, exercised, and engaged, until they’ve collapsed in a weary heap and keeled over to sleep, after a final experimental session in the bath and a slow luxurious bedtime drink tucked in somewhere comfortable.

Self-confidence? It never occurs to them that they might need such a thing (if it ever existed.) They wake up each morning at 5.30 dying to get going and have a boredom threshold of 20 seconds. Probably less. They never know whether they can do something or not when they start, are completely unfazed to find they CAN’T when they start, and keep going regardless till they can. They then practice for a while and move on to the next challenge. From time to time they go back to what they know they can do, practice again, then move on.

I’ve learn a lot this Christmas. From Katie and Joseph.

Lesson 1.  Learning is the most natural, exciting – and essential – process in the world.

Lesson 2. If you reward them with smiles and people can see you’re making every effort, those people will help you.

Lesson 3. EVERYTHING you learn can help you get a better life, even the painful things. Especially the painful things.

Lesson 4. Or you can give up, lie whimpering in your cot and have someone change your nappy. So sad.

Whatever you get to play with this year, stay curious and learn all you can.

Happy New Year.

An Airstream Bambi. Here’s what to do when you want something really badly.

I mean really badly.

Take for example the small matter of a small caravan. Oops, there goes my first mistake, fostered by the blinding desire to have an Airstream Travel Trailer, I’ve gone and called it a caravan. The absolutely wonderful man at Airstream just off the M6 at Tebay, Cumbria, called Michael Something-or-other was so gentle as he reminded my that this was a ‘Travel Trailer’ not a ‘caravan’. He was lovely about it, explaining that Airstream is just coming of age in Europe, with a range specially designed for this side of the Atlantic Ocean (which is not, I hasten to point out, a ‘pond’. We had one of those in the village and it had ducks on it. You could also see the other side.)

Oh, you are gorgeous.

Immediately, in fact before he even mentioned it, I could see the difference.  Not only that, so could my wife. This was no caravan.  This was something completely different.  and I wanted one BADLY, the whole shiny aluminium gorgeous thing, and I had several choices, from a ultra-gigantic version, to be pulled, I would have thought, by one of those tow-trucks you see at fairgrounds, all the way down (or maybe that should read ‘up’) to the sweetest little travel trailer you’ve ever seen.  It is even called ‘Bambi’.

The very nicest thing about it, well there were dozens of nice things about it actually, was that it would easily be towed by my car.  MY car!  Little Bambi was taking on new significance – she wanted to be in our family and come on holiday with us.  With our Airstream Bambi in tow, my wife and I could trundle up to some remote sun-strewn beach in Europe, pull down the beautiful red awning, pull up a couple of red chairs and, hey presto, our very own boutique hotel on wheels, complete with sea view.

Now let me take you inside. No squeezing through some scrappy little door as on a ‘white box caravan’. No, I mean this, A proper door.  I experienced a slight physical (and emotional) shock to realise that I had walked into Bambi and hadn’t banged my head. Nor when I came out again!  That HAS to be a first for me when it comes to carav…  oops. When the children were small we caravanned (yes, the right word this time) most years and the holidays were only marred by the sobbing that issued from their broken father as I hit my head on the top of the doorway … again. And I’m not joking, it reduced me (in my weaker moments, which on holiday … well, you can imagine) to real tears.

But not with Bambi. Room to spare everywhere. Even the shower was a decent size. I swear I could reach all the parts of my body that I wanted to wash in that shower – although of course I was a tad embarrassed to do that in the showroom to check it out. The shower was great. I suspect that my wife AND I could … no, we won’t go there.

And so we come to the living space. Think boutique hotel again. The lighting reflecting throughout the cabin (its made like an aircraft) creates a romantic atmosphere to lull one into the dinner-a-deux mindset, though the single red rose was missing. I noted that the central heating (yes it has central heating for the winter months) was off, but the rich red upholstery begged you to recline in comfort and either watch the telly, which we would never willingly do unless Dad’s Army was on, or read a favourite novel to the subtle tones of Rachmaninov on the sound system.

Needless to say, images of Bambi are now pinned up on my study wall, where my first BMW car was before I owned one, where my R…x watch was before I owned it,  and my 1200GS motorbikes (yes, I’ve had two) were displayed before I owned them – and in fact where the details of the house we now live in were pinned before we bought it.

I think you probably get the point. When you want something REALLY badly, pin it up on the wall in your line of sight where you’ll see it every day, and start to dream. Imagine having it, enjoying it, sharing it, playing with it (in it?) Or just call me on 07771631945. Or email me. Or visit the Powerchange website. Chances are we can help you GET IT.

I want an Airstream Bambi, never mind the fact that it is over £30,000. My car was nearly that price and I didn’t have the money for that either when it first went on the wall. My car will tow it and I want it.

What do you want?