Morning magic

There's something magical about early mornings.

On a whim I decided to get up early this morning (Sunday) for a run. The alarm went off at 0545, and half an hour later I was cycling in the direction of Hampstead Heath, with the intention of catching the sunrise from Parliament Hill (or wherever there was a decent view).

I ended up locking my bike up on Hampstead Lane about halfway between the Spaniards Inn and Highgate Village. Trail running shoes on, Camelbak and helmet in my bag and away I went in no particular direction.

Although I attempted to track my progress via MapMyRun, the GPS on my phone failed and the app managed to discard everything it had recorded, so I don't know where I went although I criss-crossed my path all over the place.

 There was a mist rising off the ground - quite extraordinary.

 By 7am, the light was bright, but sunrise wasn't until 0712 (I had checked!)

 Above: looking out over London (you can just about see the Shard).

 The heath was almost deserted. I met the occasional dog walker and runner - and after about half 7 when the sun was up, it started to get busier. But for the most part around sunrise, I had the whole place to myself.

 The camera on my phone doesn't deal at all well with poor light, but these give a sense of how things were.

 This tree (below) was pretty spooky:

 I shared the space with plenty of foxes - and a rabbit:

 It was an extraordinary experience - pretty spiritual. I kept on saying "oh wow" to myself - and congratulating myself on the decision.

 And then, at around a quarter past seven...

  I could feel the spirit of Nina Simone in the air...

Here comes the sun, little darling
Here comes the sun, and I say...
It's alright...

 Above: yes along with the rabbits and foxes that is a lesser spotted circus.

 The mist/steam rising from the ponds was pretty magical.

 For some reason mainly that I didn't really care where I was going and kept changing direction randomly, it took me ages to find Parliament Hill. When I did, it was worth it...

 Above: running through the long wet grass meant that my feet were absolutely sodden.
Below: view from Parliament Hill

 Sadly, I could feel my knee problem which gave me problems about a year ago starting to twinge. When I went for a run in the Chilterns a couple of weeks ago (at Dunstable Downs; great place for a walk or run) the knee held firm but I had a problem for several days after in my foot, possibly a trapped nerve. The foot started to hurt again, so it was time to gingerly walk back to the bike.

 A fantastic, superlative, magical morning run. I can't recommend a morning start highly enough! As a reward for my endeavours, I was delighted to see THE BEST PLACE IN LONDON open at 0830: Louis' in Hampstead. I treated myself to a croissant and Danish pastry for breakfast and a box of cakes for later.

Content.

I'm blogging at The Wall!

Just a quick one. I've started up a regular blog at Haymarket's flagship social media blog, The Wall. It's very exciting for me as the Wall as always been one of my first stops for UK-based social media news and opinion.

Given my own expertise it'll have a social listening research bent but I'll probably cover quite a few topics as the mood takes me!

My posts can be found here.

Publishing the Harry photos WAS in the public interest

I rarely agree with Rupert Murdoch. But in this instance I think he's absolutely right; the Sun's publication of the Prince Harry photos was completely justified and in the public interest.

Let me put my cards on the table to begin with. Despite considering myself a progressive liberal in many ways, and despite often having plenty of rather bitter anti-British sentiment welling up inside me, I'm also an unashamed card-carrying royalist. If Carlsberg made monarchies, theirs would live at Buck House without question. So those are the filtered glasses through which I view this whole affair.

I'm rather ambivalent about Prince Harry in general. Playboy princes are nothing new and if he wants to take advantage of his situation to go off to Vegas, stay in a $5000 a night suite, get battered and get a load of blonde American girls to strip for him, then fair play (as long as it's not the taxpayer who pays, and in this case it wasn't). I've no doubt that I'd think he was a bit of a cock if I met him, but there are plenty of people who are a bit of a cock. I would say that up to a point, it's his decision what he does with his life, and it doesn't bother me personally what he gets up to.

Now the public interest question is important. As the phone hacking stories - and many others besides - have shown, The Sun has no moral perch whatsoever from which to preach on this issue. They have shown time and again that they will bend and break every rule, whether written or unwritten, regarding press ethics and I hope that the Leveson enquiry come up with some robust conclusions and recommendations. The "public interest" defence is used widely to justify all sorts of horrendous invasions of privacy to do with vacuous celebrities, with weak lines trotted out about how because someone has earned a wad of cash from selling albums or movies, that they have some sort of moral obligation as a "role model". This is all nonsense.

But in Harry's case, I think there is undoubtedly a public interest at stake here. Prince Harry is third in line to the throne, which means that anything he says and does could be taken to represent the Royal Family as a whole, whether in public or in private. I'm not particularly interested in whether this party counts as public or private; a bit like the little boy from Sparta, it's the fact that it was allowed to enter the public domain at all that is the issue. And why is it in the public interest? For me, it is the question of whether Harry has brought the Royal Family into disrepute.

Hold your fire, Eoghan, I hear you say; how could a lad taking advantage of his situation and acting like a (relatively) normal bloke possibly be interpreted as bringing the Royal Family into disrepute? I refer you back  to my comment that the British Royal Family is the blueprint for royal families around the world.

The British Royal Family is no bicycle monarchy. It sits proudly on pillars of dusty Victorian ideals and nostalgia. Over the last sixty years, with little help from her offspring, The Queen has made an exhausting effort to make the monarchy a symbol of respectability and stability - of apolitical elegance.

Never was this better summed up for me than in the magnificent scene with James Bond in the Olympic opening ceremony. The Queen's appearance was terse; she said a total of four words. Out of context, the scene was staid and dull. It was only in the context that The Queen has created - a monarchy which does not doff its hat to frivolity - that her cameo was so brilliant. Professional as ever, but allowing a flash of humour to escape, it was a performance which lasted seconds but which had been rehearsed for six decades. Prince Harry himself could actually have jumped out of the helicopter and parachuted into the stadium and it would not have created as much of an impact. But where the values of the monarchy are diluted, its effectiveness wanes, and Harry's antics may have gone against the grain of the values that The Queen upholds so dear.

As such, the monarchy is a symbol of Britishness overseas, which cannot be doubted by royalists or republicans alike. Which means that if there is a possibility that Harry has brought the monarchy into disprepute, there is also the possibility that he has brought the entire country into disrepute; Brand Britain may have been damaged. I do not pass judgement on whether he has; I honestly don't know where I stand on the issue (not sure I'm bothered either way). But the possibility exists that he has. Which, in my mind, means that this is sans doute an issue that is in the public interest and something which should be discussed in the open. With the evidence for all to see.

As ever, views are personal.

Theatres and companies

This isn't really a blog post, more a list of links, mainly for my own convenience, of the theatre companies and (London) theatres that matter.

Companies

Complicite
Biuro Podrozy
Kneehigh
Frantic Assembly
DV8
Punchdrunk
Grid Iron
National Theatre of Scotland
Filter
RSC
Sound & Fury
Dreamthinkspeak
Propellor
Ontroerend Goed
The Paper Birds
Shunt

Theatres

Little Angel
Tristan Bates Theatre
Camden People's Theatre
Lyric
Donmar Warehouse
The Old Vic
Young Vic
ENO
Royal Opera House
Hampstead Theatre
Bush Theatre
Soho Theatre
Almeida
National Theatre
Barbican
Old Vic Tunnels
Royal Court
BAC
The Tricycle

We were all so wrong

Nothing I say will be new or unique here.

But I wanted to admit that like so many other people, I was wrong.

I have a clear memory of that roller-coaster 24 hours on the 6th and 7th July 2005. I had a few weeks to waste, with a summer job lined up but nothing to do in the meantime. This was also a time when I was a casual party member of the Liberal Democrats - basically I shelled out ten quid and they spent about half that on stamps for letters asking me for more money. During my period of idleness I was bombarded with emails requesting help at a by-election in Cheadle, where Mark Hunter was up in a furious battle with the Tory candidate. With nothing better to do, I took a leap of faith and plunged into political campaigning for the first - and last, as it transpired - time. I had a fantastic few weeks, met loads of incredible people, tramped the streets with luminaries like (Lord) Tom McNally, heard loads of fascinating stories and ended up getting quite close to some very senior people in the party. It was a hoot.

One day when shoving a leaflet through a letterbox, a dog took exception and decided to have a good go at my knuckles, leaving me with a graze and plenty of paranoia about tetanus. So it came to pass that on the afternoon of 6 July, I watched the announcement in the waiting room of a Staffordshire A&E department. I remember the elation, the screams...and the call, in the nick of time, for Mr O'Neill to see the doctor please. (He took one look at my minor graze and laughed in my face).

I remember the following day too - it was a special one for us, for the then leader, Charles Kennedy, was to come and give a speech to rouse the troops. Sure enough, CK turned up first thing in the morning, but there were worried whispers and dark rumours spreading around the office of something terrible happening in London. CK was ushered into the kitchen with a portable radio - he needed to be able to hear the Prime Minister's speech on the bombings, so he could give his reaction.

Fast forward seven years and my excitement grew slowly and steadily. The Olympics have always represented something special to me - the pinnacle of sport, something pure and true, competing for the sake of competition, unsullied by anything else. But for the last few months, I was infected with a cancerous cynicism. The allocation of tickets I found tolerable - demand was always going to outstrip supply. The fact that I would have had to sign up for a new credit card in order to buy some, I did not find tolerable. I refused to apply for any on general principle, and started to be overwhelmed with a blanket of bitterness. But then the other stories about sponsors started to creep out. The Games Lanes - facilitating Coca-Cola execs to be whisked around London like royalty while real Londoners sat in tailbacks. The fact that you wouldn't be able to buy chips, because McDonald's said so. The fact that someone was going to be paid to go around covering up logos on the hand dryers in the toilets, because they weren't an official sponsor. The branding police. Horror story after horror story was leaked, and I felt a weary sense of depression about corporate inevitability.

Then there was the feeling of dread about the infrastructure. I'm well versed in the uselessness of the Jubilee Line, and with a fortnight to go there was a series of catastrophic failures. With London being swamped with extra people, there was no way the tubes would cope. London would choke up and fail, a mediocre town masquerading as a global city, like Atlanta in 1996. I looked forward to the Olympic Games not with anticipation but with apprehension. This was to be a sorry mess.

I decided to volunteer for a hefty chunk of the Games - not as a Games Maker but in my usual rather more mundane capacity which I'm immensely proud of. On the night of the Opening Ceremony I was on the streets of Bloomsbury - Tottenham Court Road was deserted. It was surreal. I went home feeling rather flat. But then I hadn't seen the Opening Ceremony.

I must admit that I've never bothered watching an Opening Ceremony before. I assumed it was just a glitzy pageant with lots of sequins, naff music, fireworks and jingoistic bollocks. I watched the ceremony on iPlayer the next morning and felt a rather unusual emotion. I've always been a proud Londoner. I'm a proud Australian. I'm a fiercely proud Irishman. But even though I was born in Hammersmith, there's something which I rarely feel but which Danny Boyle managed to ignite. I felt a sudden uprush, an explosion or pride in being British.

The Opening Ceremony was designed for British people. The sequences - particularly the TV montages - were full of injokes for Britons. Michael Fish, the Shipping Forecast, EastEnders, Soho sex shops, Great Ormond Street - all were referenced in at least a passing way. This was our Games, said Boyle, and it's for us. Some bits didn't work. The "digital love story" was naff and McCartney was cringeworthy.

But the best moment was Bond. It was understated and perfect. It was just so Bond. It wasn't Daniel Craig; it WAS Bond. You sensed that the curl of his lip at the footman was real, the swagger was just right. But the star of the show? The Queen, of course. Her "Good evening, Mr Bond" wasn't a line that had been rehearsed for a few minutes; it was a line that had 60 years of preparation. Our Queen is no Juliana of the Netherlands; it's the fact that she has been so invisible for the last six decades that made that line so wonderful.

As for the rest of the Games, everything has already been said. They were majestic, awe-inspiring, wonderful. I went to the table tennis and had a great time. I watched more Red Button in two weeks than in the previous two years put together. I screamed at the TV whilst watching handball and archery, weightlifting and gymnastics. I cheered on Mo and Bradley. I let out a broad grin for Usain. The Olympics did everything I'd hoped and more.

The BBC coverage was superb from start to finish. Michael Johnson was a star but my surprise hero of the games was the camp-as-Christmas, dry-as-Prosecco Ian Thorpe. Balding and Barker, Jackson and Boardman, they were all fantastic, and the multiple coverage just demonstrated how lucky we are to live in an age of such rapidly advancing technology.

But my cynicism was behind me, and I was happy to be wrong. The tube was fantastic (I even came through City Airport at rush hour midway through the first week, without a hitch). The branding police were happily low-profile. LOCOG were not the faceless, unsmiling bureaucrats we'd all imagined ruining our Games. Yes, there were hitches with the sponsors not bothering to turn up for the events (and shame on them all) but for the most part, these Games were utterly fantastic.

Best of all, the traditions. The Olympic Rings are surely one of the most powerful, evocative logos in the world. The lighting of the flame at the Temple of Hera and journey to the Cauldron. The symbolism of the Marathon. The Olympic spirit. The Olympics DO have a purity that is absent in so much of society these days, a complete antidote to the usual summers of Sky Sports screaming about football transfer rumours.

Like most of London today, I feel bereft. There's a huge black hole where before we had something to look forward to. But like my mum with her memories of Olympic Rings on her school exercise books in Gippsland in 1956, I will have memories to last me a lifetime, even if most of them will be from the TV. London, we put on the greatest festival on earth, and I'm so proud.

Social media benchmarking

I've written an article for Brand Republic about some of the recent work that we've done at Ipsos MORI alongside Brandwatch. It focusses on the importance of setting norms and benchmarks when working with quantitative social listening research data.

The article is here.

*** Update: I have also written a piece on similar themes for Research magazine. A shortened version is in the print magazine, or you can view the complete article here. ***

Lament for Eoghan Ruadh Ó Néill

What's in a name?

I feel so privileged that my name has meaning and history. My middle names - Seamas Alan - both have family meaning to them. I'm named Alan after my mother's brother - my mum always idolised him and this rubbed off on me when I was small, even though I haven't seen him for years he's still been a hero of mine. Seamas is the hibernicised version of James, the name of both my grandfather and his father before him.

I never met my grandfather who died fifteen years before I was born. His father, also James, would have been born in 1865. My grandfather's younger sister, Eileen, who passed away a few weeks ago aged 104, can also be seen on that census form.

As the census form shows, James and Eileen had many siblings but there were two more still to be born. One was Uncle Owen, who I met a few times. My dad is also Owen/Eoghan - so we're definitely keeping it firmly in the family. But it's not just a recent phenomoneon: Eoghan is one of the most famous names to be associated with the O'Neill dynasty over the years.

Although the O'Neills proper started with Niall Glúndub, one of the High Kings of Ireland in the tenth century, the Uí Néill were originally descended from Niall of the Nine Hostages, back in the fifth century. One of his sons was, you guessed it, Eógan mac Néill, from who name Tir Eoghain (land of Eoghan) was taken...better known these days as County Tyrone, a hotspot for O'Neills over the centuries!

Fast forward a thousand years or so, and the O'Neills had done many great things, but it was time for another great Eoghan O'Neill to step up to the mark. This was Eoghan Ruadh, or Owen Roe, who was a leader in the Confederate Wars. A relative of both Hugh ("the great O'Neill") and Conn, the first Earl of Tyrone, whose approach to diplomacy seems to have been not dissimilar to Neville Chamberlain's. Owen Roe, on the other hand, stood up against both the English and the Scottish Covenanters. Things all got a bit messy and in the end he died in 1649, traditionally believed poisoned, shortly after Cromwell's arrival in Ireland.

This post is flirting with family history and pride in being an O'Neill (albeit not necessarily directly descended from the chieftains...I don't know about my bloodline further back than James who was an engine fitter at the start of the 20th century!) and being an Eoghan and being an O'Neill. But the real reason I wrote this is to post Thomas Davis's brilliant nineteenth century "Lament for Owen Roe O'Neill". Read it and weep...


“Did they dare, did they dare, to slay Eoghan Ruadh O’Neill?”
“Yes, they slew with poison him they feared to meet with steel.”
“May God wither up their hearts! May their blood cease to flow,
May they walk in living death, who poisoned Eoghan Ruadh.”

“Though it break my heart to hear, say again the bitter words.
From Derry, against Cromwell, he marched to measure swords:
But the weapon of the Sassanach met him on his way.
And he died at Cloch Uachtar, upon St. Leonard’s day.

“Wail, wail ye for the Mighty One. Wail, wail ye for the Dead,
Quench the hearth, and hold the breath—with ashes strew the head.
How tenderly we loved him. How deeply we deplore!
Holy Saviour! but to think we shall never see him more!

“Sagest in the council was he, kindest in the hall,
Sure we never won a battle—’twas Eoghan won them all.
Had he lived—had he lived—our dear country had been free:
But he’s dead, but he’s dead, and ’tis slaves we’ll ever be.

“O’Farrell and Clanricarde, Preston and Red Hugh,
Audley and MacMahon—ye valiant, wise and true:
But—what are ye all to our darling who is gone?
The Rudder of our Ship was he, our Castle’s corner stone.


“Wail, wail him through the Island! Weep, weep for our pride!
Would that on the battlefield our gallant chief had died!
Weep the Victor of Beinn Burb—weep him, young and old:
Weep for him, ye women—your beautiful lies cold!

“We thought you would not die—we were sure you would not go,
And leave us in our utmost need to Cromwell’s cruel blow—
Sheep without a shepherd, when the snow shuts out the sky—
O! why did you leave us, Eoghan? Why did you die?

“Soft as woman’s was your voice, O’Neill! bright was your eye,
O! why did you leave us, Eoghan? Why did you die?
Your troubles are all over, you’re at rest with God on high,
But we’re slaves, and we’re orphans, Eoghan!—why did you die?”

Sarashwathy Bavans, Wembley - review

I made my first trip up to Wembley this weekend since my walk-about three years ago. This time we went hunting for a meal out - some prior research seemed to point to a couple of potential places at the top end of the Ealing Road: the popular chain Chennai Dosa, Palm Beach, and the one we opted for, Sarashwathy Bavans. It's a Sri Lankan/South Indian restaurant which has a second branch in Tooting.

If you're the sort of person who's bothered by the decor of a restaurant then you're unlikely to be the sort of person considering a trek up to Wembley for a meal, but suffice to say it's basically a white-walled, strip-lit diner. Not first date material unless your date is in the top percentile of interestingness and/or open-mindedness.

On the Saturday evening we were there, several Asian families were dining, some with young kids; to our left seemed to be a large family party with about fifteen people, mostly guzzling dosas, which the restaurant professes to specialise in. We've ordered dosas the last few times we've been in South Indian places (although a mate and I ordered a couple of lovely spinach dishes recently for a home delivery from Kovalam on Willesden Lane) so this time decided to go for different options.

To start we went for idly (a light ground rice/lentil cake) and methu vadai (lentil doughnuts) which came with a selection of chutneys. The methu vadai, in particular, were delicious: a strong nutty flavour - possibly a mixture of cumin and mustard, but I couldn't be sure.

The wreckage of an idly with various chutnies in the background. Far left: salt lassi

Crucially, though, the waiter (who perhaps detected a little hesitation when we came to ordering) confidently asked "May I make a suggestion?" EXACTLY what I like to hear. He suggested reducing the quantity of idly and adding some "mushrooms 65". We had no idea what these were but were happy to place ourselves in the hands of the expert - wisely so: the mushrooms were excellent. Fried in a mixture of spices, they were very dry and packed some proper heat - mango chutney provided relief. Apologies for the appalling photography.

Mushrooms "65" hidden somewhere underneath the onion rings!

To follow we went for mutter paneer which was spectacular: cheese and peas in a subtle rich sauce. . Aloo jeera was really a side rather than a main - basically potatoes in cumin seed. Once again, when I asked for chapatis, the waiter swiftly suggested that we run with a combination of chapatis and parathas. The chapatis were excellent, the paratha a little greasy for my taste.

Mutter paneer: fantastic food, not-so-fantastic photography

Aloo jeera - potatoes in cumin seed

We shared an excellent gulab jamun for dessert and finished with masala tea.

Something hot, sweet and delectable...and Rachel.

All-in with drinks, the bill came to £30.50 minus service - fantastic value for one of the better meals I've had in London. I burst out laughing at the note on the bill, presumably for the chef, underneath our starters, which stated ***ALL VERY MILD PLS*** !

Overloaded with carbs and clutching the paneer and cinnamon bark which we'd picked up in Fruity Fresh on the Ealing Road, we stumbled back out, stuffed and happy. Highly recommended and worth the trip.

549 High Road, Wembley

HA0 2DJ

The MRS response to submissions is out...

Interesting reading and plenty more food for thought. My thought palate is salivating. Have they got it right? My printout is covered in pink highlighter markings; will post some reactions when they come together in my head a bit more coherently. There is no simple quick-fix answer here.

Social media listening ethics: some thoughts

Debate on the ethics of social media research has flared up in recent months with some eminent names taking diametrically opposed points of view.

A good starting point is the lively debate surrounding Brian Tarran's excellent post on Research Live. There have also been a couple of good posts on the Digital MR blog recently which address the pertinent
issues head on. They are clearly worried that new guidelines will restrict their ability to do their job effectively, and leave them  vulnerable to providers from non-traditional research backgrounds who may not be subject to the straitjacket of a code of conduct, and therefore be able to provide research solutions quicker and more cheaply, which is definitely the trend. Their worries are certainly valid.

My own take on it is this. The principle of informed consent should still be the starting point. There are a lot of people making loud noises about social media research being "different" from traditional market research. This is true...up to an extent. But my worry is that the motivations for wanting to water down the restrictions on data usage are business ones rather than ethical ones. "If we restrict ourselves then there are non-MR companies out there who will move into our space" simply does not wash as an excuse for lowering standards.

Ray Poynter has made a series of thoughtful posts on the issue and neatly breaks down the issues. In August he wrote:

"The benefits of traditional market research ethics were that they allowed some exemptions to laws (e.g. data protections laws, laws about multiple contacts, laws about phoning people who were on ‘no call’ lists), increased public trust, and allowed market research to get close to a scientific model – for example to use concepts such as random probability sampling and statistical significance. Complying with codes of ethics incurred extra costs, but they also brought commercial benefits. The ‘proper’ market research companies could do things the non-research companies could not - so there was a commercial argument in favour of self-regulation, codes of conduct, and professional conduct bodies."

Why can't this continue? Annie Pettit reported that Jillian Williams from the Highways Agency, said that anonymity is important to clients as they will take the flak rather than the research industry. Ray then appears to contradict himself slightly by saying "If market research companies abide by the old ethics, in particular anonymity and informed consent, they will not be able to compete for business in most areas where market research is growing. This is because there will be no commercial benefits that will accrue to sticking to rules and ideas that nobody else does." Surely the majority of clients, if they are looking for a genuine market research study, will want to stay firmly within the "rules" whatever they might be. There was an almighty stink when Nielsen Buzzmetrics were found to have scraped a healthcare forum that was ostensibly private. I actually had some sympathy for them - they were exploring new ways of collecting data, which in itself is quite legitimate - they'd just made a mistake in the execution and hadn't thought hard enough about the wider implications. They took the rap rather than the end client that time, but no client wants to be caught up in a grubby web scraping scandal.

Anonymity is a sociological issue that's very a la mode - there's an interesting post on the ever-excellent Face blog about current trends for real names versus pseudonyms; meanwhile debate rages over Google+'s insistence on real names. What about agencies using monitoring services such as Sysomos or Radian6 or in-house tools? These generally provide the capability to drill down to individual posts, tweets and so on, which can be sent directly to the end client. Perhaps some sort of deals could be set up with the dashboard providers whereby data is automatically anonymised in certain situations. And what about client-side monitoring, which may be informal reputation management/PR or a more in-depth research project. We must be careful not to set guidelines that are restrictive merely because the technology is so good. The principles should apply no matter what fancy new algorithms (buzzword...ugh) are created.

There is also a difference between qualitative and quantitative data. There is an enormous gap between a qualitative study which drills down to individual tweets, forum posts or Facebook status updates and sends them - warts, personal details and all - to the end client, and a large-scale overview of aggregated sentiment-analysed anonymised data which may say nothing more than "there has been a 17% uplift in sentiment from Yorkshire women on Twitter towards the value for money of Fabreze in the last 6 months" or whatever. (What is Fabreze, by the way? It's something which I know my girlfriend spends money on and is almost certainly totally unneccessary - beyond that I haven't got a clue).

The next question over anonymity surrounds platforms. Bloggers, for example, are posting opinions which they want to be heard; furthermore, bloggers generally have an easy choice whether to remain anonymous or not. Many do, others are quite happy to be identifiable. In my book they're about as close as you can get to "fair game". Forums are somewhat similar. At the other end of the scale, you have Facebook; I would hazard a guess that many people whose profiles are set to public are actually unaware of the fact, and have simply been confused by Facebook's ever-changing T&Cs, not to mention their tendency to play fast and loose with privacy. Add the fact that Facebook profiles are usually in real names - and easily identifiable with photos and so on - and this adds up to an ugly mixture of possibly unwanted intrusion combined with ignorance of the fact. A far cry from the "informed consent" principle if researchers start harvesting their data for business purposes.

Then there are idiosyncracies of the social networks. Should there be a difference between the attitude to privacy of someone saying "I wish Nature valley cereal bars were sweeter" and "I wish @NatureValleyUK cereal bars were sweeter"? Is the second option crying out for attention - by researchers?

Michalis Michael from Digital MR says

"Finally a specific minor detail which is most important from a DigitalMR perspective is this: when using quotes in MR reports, we (MR agencies) should not be asked to mask the handle/meta data of a person who posted a comment on a public website – if that website states that posted comments can be viewed by anyone."

I think this depends on what is being done with the data. If the data is quantitative then I believe it should be anonymised - at least before it reaches the end client who needs to make the business decisions that follow the research. For qualitative data perhaps another set of rules should apply;

Ultimately I suppose the question needs to be asked "what are the purposes of these ethical codes anyhow?" I've even heard people criticising the Data Protection Act itself - this smacks of tobacco companies criticising smoking regulations. The Data Protection Act was drafted to bring UK law into line with EU privacy directives and the European Convention on Human Rights. These are fundamental directives; they are universal. They provide for people to be able to live their day-to-day lives in a normal way. They enshrine into statute principles of common decency which are inherently part of human nature. Thanks to UK implementation such as the Data Protection Act and Human Rights Act, we are able to do this. The Code of Conduct must use these principles of common decency as its starting point, and leave "but other people are doing it" wheedles to the minor details. The ever-excellent Annie Pettit speculated the other day that a lack of grounding in the "old" ethical MR principles has led to a slackening of attitudes towards privacy. This sounds very plausible, but a lot of it seems just to be a frustration with, or fear of, not being able to work efficiently, particularly if there is "competition" out there coming from a different background who will cheerfully sweep up the work without having to worry about pesky obstacles like common decency.

All this still doesn't quite square with the fact that this social media data is publicly available, sitting there for the world to see, and common sense would seem to dictate that it would be daft to deliberately close our ears to mountains of conversations that are taking place in the public domain. It is undeniable that it is impractical to contact thousands of people individually and ask them whether the sentiment expressed in their Facebook status yesterday may be used for market research purposes. It is also unlikely that many people will feel there's much of an intrusion of privacy from Jack Daniel's picking up on the fact that someone has publicly moaned about it being too expensive, and using that to influence their pricing stategy. But it must be done in such a way as to minimise disruption to people's lives and not fuel speculation that businesses are running slipshod over personal data. Is there a difference between "private" and "personal"? I think so, and perhaps it's a definition that needs to be made explicitly. In general we may need to re-think the "informed" concept and define in what situations "informed" means "explicitly told personally".

I think there are direct parallels between the issues faced by social media researchers, and the police and the Regulation of Investigatory Powers Act (RIPA): for intrusive "directed surveillance" authority from RIPA is required - because that involves targeted "stalking" if you like, of a particular person. You also need RIPA authority for similar work online. But there's no requirement for a RIPA for simple day-to-day casual monitoring. If an officer in plain clothes spots someone doing something he regards as suspicious, there's no need for a court authorisation to discreetly follow that person down the road to find out what he's up to.

As Steve Cooke of Digital MR points out, it is true that social media listening is different to other forms of social media research such as communities. But offline ethnography is subject to pretty strict controls and to informed consent principles. Social media conversations - even "person to person" conversations such as @messaging on Twitter - may be in the public domain, but any offline conversation in public is monitorable if you have a big enough pair of ears. Social media listeners must be careful that the sensitivity of their "ears" doesn't mean they abuse their power. Perhaps there is a case for abandoning long-standing principles - but it shouldn't be merely for convenience purposes.

Bivvying in the Brecons

Just got back from a weekend in the Brecon Beacons where we experimented with bivvy bags for the first time. Both my mate Duncan and I had no experience of bivvies and tarps before so it definitely had the potential to go wrong!

We parked up near Glyntawe on Friday night, arriving around midnight, shouldered packs and headed up for about half an hour to gain some height and find a nice place to camp. There were plenty of little dips and hollows, and the terrain wasn’t too bad.

I was using a Terra Nova Competition 1 tarp which at £40 in Field & Trek and 180g represents terrific value. It’s a simple affair, with both loops and eyelets in all the corners plus halfway along each long side. Having done some internet research the only conclusion I could draw was that there was no right or wrong way to pitch a tarp, so I had a go at an A-frame setup to begin with. It wasn’t the best of starts as I realised I had left my tent pegs behind; fortunately there were plenty of rocks around, and Duncan had spare pegs as well.

It was painful progress in the dark but somehow I managed to get some sort of structure erected, and then hoped that waking in the morning I’d find the tarp still over my head.


Progress was slow but steady.

This was what I woke up to:

 

The view was nothing to shout about, but there’s a thrill about opening your eyes in the morning and getting the grass right next to your head and the wind on your face, which a tent just can’t provide. Duncan had a worse view to endure though.

This is the life. Duncan, meanwhile, had opted for a Terra Nova Jupiter bivvy bag, which has a hoop and therefore requires no tarp. It looked like this:

As for the tarp, my guylines were far too long, especially in the corners, which meant that it was a very flat “A” shape. No matter, not bad for a first effort, and how bloody cool does this look for a camp.

I don’t use trekking poles normally, but wasn’t creative enough to think of anything better, so reluctantly I picked up a cheap pair from Lidl. Apart from use as tarp poles they remained entirely untouched for the duration of the weekend.

Our route was fairly short but we found a promising-looking tree under which we intended to camp, and wanted to get there before dark, so that shortened the day considerably, especially as since we didn’t get to bed until nearly 2am we’d made a late start. We crossed the Cwm Haffes, up the flank of Fan Hir, north along the top of the ridge and along to Fan Brycheiniog where the path joins the Beacons Way. Fan Hir is a dramatic walk – a perfect quarter pipe with some pretty steep cliffs at the top.

Here’s a view back at Fan Hir from the north:

Once the path joins the Beacons Way it’s basically a flattish yomp around the edge of the plateau with some pretty spectacular views.

That’s looking back towards Fan Brycheiniog. The next one is looking in the other direction (westwards).

Then we cut south through some pretty boggy ground before skirting round near to where we started to pitch up our bivvies again.

The second night, with a little more confidence, I decided to pitch a slightly tighter “A” but keep it nice and high given how calm the weather had been.

The rest of my setup was: Alpkit Pipedream 800 (which proved a touch on the warm side) inside a Rab Alpine bivvy bag. The Rab is spacious inside, has a good zip although it could do with being an inch or two longer on each side, feels durable and proved both waterproof and stayed remarkably condensation free – hardly surprising given that it’s made from eVent fabric. A foam mat (Karrimor, £3) underneath proved highly successful.

We set up and headed for the pub. Unfortunately I forgot to completely close the bivvy bag zip, so the hood of the sleeping bag was soaking with dew when we returned from the Bryn Arms. This means that my face was cold and damp for the whole night. Bivvying really teaches you discipline! By that point I was pretty cold and wet anyway: I was wearing trail shoes (Inov-8 Roclite 315) which aren’t waterproof, and didn’t bring a change of socks. There’s boggy ground all over the place, and boots would probably have been a better idea, perhaps we got a little carried away by the minimalist ethic.

The two bivvying systems are very different. The Jupiter is a self-contained sleeping system – not needing a separate tarp means (1) you save a little bit of weight and (2) there’s no risk of the tarp bowing away in the night. On the down side, Duncan reported that is was VERY snug inside (he’s 6 feet and was using a Pipedream 600 sleeping bag), there’s nowhere to keep your rucksack dry, and getting in and out of the bivvy bag in bad weather would be a horribly uncomfortable experience; needing a pee at 3am in freezing rain wouldn’t be one of life’s greater moments (by contrast I did a pee on my knees from my sleeping mat, but maybe that’s too much information). Tarps, meanwhile, are versatile, although you’ve got to be careful to try and keep the weight down to around a kilo for tarp + bivvy, because you’re already in lightweight tent territory there. The exhilaration of sleeping truly out in the open definitely gives the bivvy bag some extra utility though. Does life get any better than this…?

We had had incredible weather over the course of the day for mid-October, but the rain set in overnight and the breeze picked up. I spent most of the night worrying about the stability of my novice tarp pitch. There’s a hell of a lot of noise from it flapping around, too. In the event, however, the tarp stood firm (in future I’ll pitch it a lot lower) and this was how it looked in the morning (wind’s coming from the left):

Life couldn’t get much better, really, although bivvying does alter your definitions of comfort somewhat. Sleeping in a zipped up bivvy bag isn’t the most comfortable experience and temperature regulation is tricky, but the freedom and rawness of the camping more than makes up for it. Going minimalist definitely does have its kicks – all my kit was stuffed into a 32 litre bag. Not something to try in bad weather though!