21st December 2025.
Opening Reflection
This week forced me to slow down — not by choice, but by circumstance. I had one of my regular check-ups at UCLH hospital. Ten years ago, I was diagnosed with acute myeloid leukaemia. I am here today because of timing, brilliant science, and people who knew exactly what they were doing when it mattered most.
Hospitals have a way of stripping everything back. They remind you what’s important and what isn’t. Business problems feel very different when you’re sitting in a waiting room watching people hope for good news.
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Hospitals, Humanity and a Missed Opportunity
Being in hospital is never a good experience — for patients, families, or staff. But one thing that really struck me this time was just how poor the retail and restaurant experience is in every hospital I’ve visited.
The food is depressing.
The environments are stressful.
The service feels transactional rather than human.
And it got me thinking.
Surely, of all places, kindness, calm, and good service should matter most in hospitals. Good food, a peaceful environment, somewhere for staff to decompress, patients to recover, and families to breathe for a moment — all of that must aid recovery, morale, and wellbeing.
So a thought lodged itself in my head and hasn’t left:
Could a Black Farmer farm shop work inside a hospital?
Not as a gimmick. As a genuine space offering good, nourishing food and a sense of calm. The challenge, of course, is navigating the layers of bureaucracy that surround the NHS. I have no idea how complex that road will be — but it’s one I want to explore.
I’ll keep you posted.
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Christmas Without Optimism
Christmas feels different this year. People aren’t spending freely — and that’s because spending is driven by optimism. Right now, optimism is in short supply.
When people feel confident about the future, they open their wallets. When they don’t, they hold back. What we’re seeing isn’t reluctance — it’s caution. And no amount of marketing can override that.
Retail doesn’t operate in a vacuum. It reflects how people feel about their lives.
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Why Do We Leave Everything to the Last Minute?
One thing that has puzzled me for years is our addiction to last-minute chaos. What is it about human nature that makes people leave things until the eleventh hour?
It’s almost as if some people are addicted to the stress — the adrenaline rush of just scraping through. That might have felt exciting in my twenties and thirties. These days, it feels unnecessary and exhausting.
Most last-minute crises are caused by poor planning and lack of organisation. Yet some people seem to thrive on the disorder. Chaos makes them feel alive. I’ve reached the stage where calm, preparation, and clarity are far more appealing.
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Retail Is Detail
I was once told by an old hand:
“Retail is detail.”
He was absolutely right.
If you’ve ever been diagnosed with OCD, retail might actually be the perfect profession. You need obsession. Obsession with product quality. Obsession with how the shop looks. Obsession with margins, costs, waste, and flow.
Retail rewards those who notice what others miss.
The slightly crooked shelf.
The wrong price label.
The product that isn’t selling because it’s in the wrong place.
If you’re not obsessed, retail will eat you alive.
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Government Schemes vs Retail Reality
I read this week that from 2026 the government plans to support 18–21-year-olds who have been unemployed for 18 months by placing them into hospitality roles.
I don’t know who designs these schemes, but I can say with confidence it’s not someone who has run a hospitality business.
Hospitality lives and dies by customer experience. Employers are understandably reluctant to place someone with a long-term unemployment gap directly in front of their customers without serious preparation and support. That’s not cruelty — it’s commercial reality.
Good intentions are not the same as workable policy.
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Closing Reflection
This week reminded me that perspective changes everything. Health sharpens focus. Hospitals reveal what truly matters. Retail, at its best, should be about care — for customers, staff, and communities.
If I can bring even a small part of that philosophy into spaces where people need it most, then the grind is worth it.
Still standing.
Still thinking.
Still building.
Onwards.
