We’ve been having a bit of a, we’ll call it a discussion, with our mobile phone company over a certain unresolved issue. A few days ago I decided to take the bull by the horns and call them one more time to try and resolve it. Six phone calls later and the last person I was dealing with accidentally cut me off. I gave up for the day and spent the evening feeling really cross. I was mostly cross because the time I had used to make the calls would have been much better spent with my children. I was also cross because nobody at the company seemed to care. At all.

Now I understand that working for customer services in a mobile phone company isn’t most peoples’ idea of a dream job (though I’m being subjective here of course because it isn’t mine and I do understand that it may be a dream for some people), but let’s just stop and explore that for a minute. Lots of jobs people do aren’t their dream job. So what do you do if that’s you? Do you make your and everyone else’s life a misery? Are you as unhelpful as you could be? Just to punish people. To make them feel as badly as you do. What happens? You get yelled at. You create the spark of bad feeling that stays with you and everyone you come into contact with and spreads like a virus to the people they each come into contact with.

Or do you do your best? Try to help. Make an effort. End the day feeling like you’ve made a difference and even fixed someone’s problem. Left them feeling happy, passing that happiness on to people they come into contact with.

Whoever made the mistake on our account, all it would have taken to make us feel better would have been one helpful person. One person who instead of just telling us the same thing again and again actually found a way to fix it. Why doesn’t that happen? Can companies really not see the value in empowering their staff to make their customers happy?

I am still an unhappy customer. You know that person who cut me off? They work for my mobile phone provider. They have my mobile phone number. They could have called me back. They couldn’t be bothered. How much easier would life be if you just knew that whenever you rang a company to fix a problem, mobile provider, bank, shop, (take a deep breath) local authority, someone helpful, informed and empowered would answer the phone and at least try to help? Anyway, must go, I have unfinished business….

I’m not the best at trusting myself but it seems to be something most people struggle with. The most difficult things I’ve had to find my way with have involved my children. But now they are growing I’m also faced with trusting myself to make the right decisions about how we live our lives. I find it hard not to first think about what other people would do/think/say. In fact, I’ll pretty much trust anyone else’s opinion before my own when it comes to the big things in life.

When my first daughter was born I read all the books and bought all the things I thought I needed as a parent. I struggled as a new mum. I read books which made me feel utterly inadequate. I should, apparently, have known what my child’s cries meant. Hungry? Tired? Thirsty? Uncomfortable? I had no idea. The cries just sounded like crying to me. I tried and tried to put her to sleep in her own bed. What I really wanted was to have her in my bed but the books told me that was wrong and I didn’t trust myself to disagree. It was hard work and stressful as I tried to live up to the perfection I was reading about.

Our second child was different. I threw the books away and trusted myself. She was carried in a sling for 4 months, slept in our bed, was cuddled whenever she cried and fed whenever I thought she might be hungry. We did baby-led weaning and skipped all the crazy food mashing. It was still hard but I felt I had allowed myself to be myself and that in itself was incredibly liberating.

Other liberating decisions have all involved looking inward and asking ourselves first what we think. What everyone else thinks really must not be allowed to matter as much. The decision to home school was made that way. And now, the decisions we’re making about how we live have to be made that way. Trusting yourself is not easy. What is easy is listening to everyone else. But at the end of the day, the decisions you make about your life have to be your own. Otherwise you haven’t really lived your own life. And who wants to live someone else’s life?

The institution was divided into two separate buildings in different locations at either end of a small town. It employed a large number of local people and consumed the identity of the town. The smaller building, which housed the less disabled residents was a tolerable place to spend time in but the larger building, housing people with very high support needs, was not.

I won’t share details of the conditions people were expected to live in, or the degrading ways in which they were looked after. We worked there for 6 months. The impact of the project was astonishing, on both the physical environment of the place and more importantly the well-being of the residents. After 6 months the agency funding us was packing up and leaving and our funding packed up and left with them. The effect of their sudden departure left our work with little opportunity for closure or for securing funding from elsewhere. Once the Kosovo crisis had calmed, nobody was interested in an institution in a small town in the south of the FYR of Macedonia.

I tried to find funds for the project for the following 5 years. I still wake up sometimes, 12 years later, with images of the residents in my head and the smell of the institution up my nose. It’s the biggest, unresolved part of my life to date. There are other small, unresolved things I carry about. Some are too insignificant to mention and others even flippant by comparison. The half upholstered chair, finished to the point at which the course I took ended and waiting for me to find the time to sign up for the second course. The 5 other chairs waiting for their turn, wondering when I’m going to be skilled enough to take them on. The violin I spent 15 years learning to play which now sits in its case in the corner of my bedroom.

Life changes and priorities change too but some things will always feel unfinished. Mental clutter is possibly the most difficult to clear. And unresolved matters feel particularly difficult, especially when there’s no clear way to resolve them. I guess the small things I can work towards resolving. I’ve promised the girls I will play the violin for them today and I’ve been looking into finishing the chairs with books and online tutorials. I still don’t have any clear ideas about the project in Macedonia however. Too much time may have passed now for anything to happen and I wonder if that’s just something which is going to be floating around in my head forever. Maybe just accepting that is a resolution in itself.

Before we had children we had never been stuck on how many we wanted. I grew up with a sister and thought having a sibling was important. Simon was an only child and agreed. I did have a thought that three might be nice but after our second we both knew our family was complete.

Our babies were not easy. They both had that mysterious, nobody quite knows what it is, general malaise they call colic. Or eldest screamed incessantly for three months. When I was pregnant with our second we both agreed this baby could never be as difficult but in fact she had even worse colic than her sister. For four months she yelled. Night and day. Her cry was incredibly loud for such a small person and people were often taken aback when she opened her lungs full throttle. By six months both girls were through the colic and life got easier.

Our babies, however difficult, were of course adored. It’s a stage in life we’ll always treasure. It’s just that we feel we’ve done that stage. All the baby stuff has gone. Our house is cot and changing-mat free. We’re looking forward to the next stage, the adventures, the conversations, the sharing. The next stage is mapped out a little. The path is right there in front of us.

Except for a few days it wasn’t. For a few days the path was more like a fork in the road. For a few days things had potentially changed forever. It sounds dramatic but it brought home the reality that you can make as many plans as you like but life just might have other ideas.

So what now? Well as it turned out it was a false alarm and life quickly screeched back to normal. But there, at the back of my mind, things were already whirring away. What if I had been pregnant? What would we have done? What if some other, unexpected event should come along and rock the boat? That momentary glimpse of another life filled me with ideas about other paths we could walk down. A bit of a quantum mechanics moment. Maybe the status quo sometimes needs a bit of a shakeup. Even a status quo that to many people might seem entirely un-status quo. Sometimes it’s good to remember that while life seems to simply slip along on an easy path, other paths might be worth exploring. Even for a day or two. Just to be sure.

It’s a small town. Maybe we’re outgrowing it. Or maybe we’re just getting lazy and need to start appreciating what it does have to offer. Simon’s passing comment in the park? We were having a picnic with our girls in our beautiful, Victorian, town park and he remarked that not many places have a park like ours. It’s true. It has a river running through it, huge trees, roses, ducks, an expanse of grass for lazing about or playing ball and a recently improved children’s adventure playground. I had forgotten how lovely it is.

The limited shops we have are enough for the everyday purchases we need to make and in fact the lack of shopping opportunities keeps overspending at bay. There are one or two very good places to eat and while we sometimes miss the variety of eateries London had to offer we now enjoy a home-cooked family dinner together almost every day. Compared to our last home, there is relatively little crime here and we feel safe, and confident that our children are safe.

Perhaps best of all on our doorstep we have some breathtaking countryside. Exmoor, the Quantocks, the Blackdown Hills. We can spend the day on the beach and be back in time for tea.

While we won’t live here forever, while we do we need to remember to make the most of the good things our home town has to offer. When the time comes to move on I want to look back and remember all the fun we had and not wonder why we missed so many opportunities. In London we did have access to culture, food, festivals, exhibitions and entertainment but there were plenty of reasons we left. Our new home can’t compare on so many levels, but it also gives us all the things we craved when we lived there. Maybe in our next home we will find a balance between these two, but for now we are going to simply enjoy where we are.

He volunteered to run for a charity he was working with in London. He volunteered late leaving less time for training than most runners would like. He had even less time for training thanks to work and kids and his last long training run hurt his ankles. For the last week he didn’t run at all. I can confess now that during the final week I had sleepless nights worrying about whether or not he would go ahead or pull out. The worry partly stemmed from how he would cope if he didn’t go through with it.

He was determined to take part and we all traveled to London on Friday to support him. On Saturday he bought a pair of wristbands and went to register. I got a text in the afternoon “I’m in”. Our daughter had a bad tummy in the night and we didn’t get much sleep but at 8am he set off to run the longest run he’d ever attempted.

The girls and I, along with my sister and her family, traveled in to central London to watch. As we came out from the Underground the atmosphere hit us. The faster runners were passing and the crowds were yelling and shouting, clapping and cheering. Anyone with their name on their vest was encouraged personally. Runners in fancy dress, older runners, wheelchair athletes, all passed by. Some looked fine, others struggled. A woman collapsed just opposite us and was attended by medics. We moved further up the course where another man passed out. The heat of a very sunny day was clearly taking its toll. As we moved to the shade of the nearby park a text from Simon told me he was half way. My heart sank and I worried he wouldn’t make it.

An hour later and we positioned ourselves at the 600m mark. Almost the finish line. The runners by now were mostly walking or just about jogging slowly. The fancy dress was amazing. Three rhinos, a tiger, lots of fairies, a few bananas. How they had run so far in such heat was astonishing. Some could barely take another step. A woman had a seizure and was taken away on a stretcher, so close to the end.

The sight of all these amazing people giving it their all brought me to tears. It was about as emotional as an event could get. Then Simon ran up and gave me and his girls a kiss each, posed for his photo and headed for the finish line. The relief I felt is indescribable. Six and a half hours. The longest, hardest run he had ever done. We were so proud of him.

I wanted to describe my day yesterday just to record the incredible event the London Marathon is. Nearly 40,000 people running just over 26 miles. Mainly for charity. I’m told it’s the biggest fundraising event in the world. It is certainly one of the most positive atmospheres I’ve ever experienced. The spectators literally willed the runners on and their desire for each and every one to finish was palpable. I am tempted to run it myself one day. Maybe next year or the year after. I would most definitely come back as a spectator. It was simple. People wanting to help people to help people. That kind of thing brings out the best in everyone.

By the way, it’s not too late to sponsor Simon: http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/mistergough

I’m not talking literally of course. There are genuinely things we can’t live without. Food, water, air…you know, those kinds of essentials. I’m talking silly stuff, stuff we’ve come to rely on. A few I’ve read recently in magazines, or heard in person: I can’t live without my scented candles, I can’t live without bergamot tea (honestly!), I can’t live without Beauty Flash Balm, I can’t live without my monthly haircut. And the best? I can’t live without my Ralph Lauren cashmere throws.

I wrote a post about this a while ago but never published it. I just wasn’t happy with what it ultimately said. But I watched a documentary recently about Kibera, Africa’s largest slum, and it made me think about it again. Four celebrities went to live there for a week (http://www.rednoseday.com/whats-on/tv-listings/famous-rich-and-in-the-slums). I’ve seen programmes like it before, I’ve even been to a few places in the world not so very different. But for some reason this one really hit me. And I’m sorry but I have to share a few things about it, in case you missed it.

• Kibera is the biggest slum in Africa and one of the biggest in the world. It houses almost 1 Million people.
• The Government owns all the land.
• The average size of shack in this area is 12ft x 12ft built with mud walls. These shacks often house up to 8 or more, many sleeping on the floor.
• 1 in 5 children don’t survive beyond their 5^th birthday.
• Only about 20% of Kibera has electricity.
• Until recently Kibera had no water.
• In most of Kibera there are no toilet facilities. One latrine (hole in the ground) is shared by up to 50 shacks. Once full, young boys are employed to empty – they take the contents to the river.
• There are no government clinics or hospitals.

So, what were we talking about? Oh yes, cashmere throws. And scented candles. I honestly do my best not to be dramatic or emotional and we’ve written before on The Minimal List about the privilege of choosing to live simply (http://www.theminimallist.com/2009/09/fad/). But pose the “what can’t you live without” question to a resident of Kibera and the answers would be the literal ones.

So what can’t you live without?

Our (extended) family is on a fairly even keel. Even so, there have been divisions in the past. There are a few rumblings of a recent disagreement between two particular members still rolling around in the background. There are divorces and family break ups in the recent and not so recent history of some of their lives. There is instability. There has been jealousy. There has been death and the sudden and unexpected coming together that this brings. There are aspects too complicated to explain to my children until they are older but which we skirt around and change the subject to avoid. There’s also a lot of love and support and when I see the lives of some other families I realise how straightforward mine is by comparison.

Taken at face value, living simply can sometimes seem a little trivial. Clearing out your clutter, not buying too much stuff, doing more, having less. But in our eyes it’s much more than that. It’s about keeping a clear perspective of what’s important. It’s about prioritising. It’s about focusing on the important stuff, life experiences, fulfilling dreams, maximising potential, being brave about the choices we make. It’s a great way to live and one we strive for. But life is bigger and more complex, particularly when other people are involved.

I have written before about couples who make things more difficult for each other, rather than being the one, simple, supportive element in each other’s lives. I have written about the pros and cons of having family close or far away. But within our own walls, even our two girls bring their own chaos and complications. They ask questions we can’t answer and bring their own views of the world to the table. Their existence brings with it endless decisions about the minute details of their lives. There’s the beginnings of the political landscape that is childhood friendships. And boy is that complicated!

But much as we feel lucky when it’s just the four of us and we can do as we please and try to live the more is less life, if we lived in isolation we’d miss out on all those amazingly, wonderful complications. We hope that keeping our lives simple makes dealing with the complicated bits a little easier.

When I was five I wanted to be a vet. I imagined a life filled with cute, fluffy, baby animals. When I discovered that my hands may have to enter the rear ends of cattle I changed my mind. My next ambition was to be a punk. I had dreams of living with pink hair and safety pins. I didn’t consider how I might make a living from this. Music and art were a big part of my life from quite a young age and for a while my future was mapped out as a musician. Eventually, however, I ended up going to art school and although I never became a sculptor as I had dreamed, the experience certainly shaped my life to a great extent.

Each step along the way something changed. My love for a baby animals was clearly not enough to forge a future in the world of veterinary medicine. It became apparent at school that science was not my forte. My punk dreams were halted too by a change in fashion and a move to a more hippy aesthetic. Art won out over music in the end although I wonder sometimes what I would be doing now if I had gone to music school instead.

So can life ever go to plan? I can’t say I ever really saw myself doing the things I do. I’m not sure Simon and I thought, even ten years ago, that our business would have taken the direction that it has. Things have just evolved. Decisions have been made on the spur of the moment. Opportunities have been grabbed or avoided. Life has swung this way and that. I read so often that to succeed you need to keep your dream at the forefront of your mind, have a plan, stick to it. But what about spontaneity? What about changing your mind? Can’t you succeed if you go with the flow? Isn’t that part of the beauty of working for yourself?

Whatever you think about life and plans, I for one plan to keep shifting the goalposts. For me it’s what keeps life interesting. Have you been asked that awful interview question “where do you see yourself in ten years time?”. My answer would have to be “I have absolutely no idea!”. I certainly didn’t know ten years ago that I’d be here. Oh, and thank you Simon, for a great birthday present.

As I was born in 1970, my life has had a mathematically tidy quality about it. I had a hippy, carefree childhood, went through my teens to a pop soundtrack, focused on work in the booming 90′s and got back to basics in the introspective noughties.

Each decade has had a particular feel about it, and there have been many memorable moments along the way. I asked myself, though, if I could define each decade by one single thing. One all encompassing, most important thing that summed up the 10 years and impossible though it seemed I think I may have managed it.

My first 10 years were very 1970′s. I ran around with a gang of friends, disappearing off across the fields in stripy handmade flares. An idyllic time, the defining aspect of my first 10 years was my family. It’s no secret that I think my parents are amazing and I can honestly say I don’t have a single bad memory from my early childhood. My sister was my best friend and life was sweet.

My second 10 years were more difficult. My teens were unsurprisingly insecure times with the added complication of boys. I guess I found my place a little though and became a vegetarian, joined causes, went on marches and generally made my objections to the injustices in the world known. The defining thing though? My friends. I had a solid circle of trusted allies but all these years later there is still one in particular who is very special today.

The 90′s are easy. I met my husband. And the noughties easy too, I had my children. Maybe two of the most defining moments in my whole life.

So I looked at this list and was struck by what I’d found. My life has been defined by the people in it. What has been most important has been the relationships. Not a job, not money, not possessions, not buying a house, not my education, not even a holiday or other experience. People. Simple. As I enter my fifth decade they seem more important than ever and all those other things seem less so. I hope I can look back on the next 10 years and define them in the same way.