Society Diary: NCVO conference catches fire

20 Jun 2014 Voices

Our weekly round-up of outlandish and interesting information collected from the corners of the charity sector.

Our weekly round-up of outlandish and interesting information collected from the corners of the charity sector.

And then some bright spark...

It was NCVO’s annual conference, Evolve, this week, and they had a really hot programme.

No, they really did. There was an actual fire *.

Anyone who’s anyone in the charity sector will have lost track of the number of times a faintly embarrassed man stood up at the front of a conference and muttered something about fire exits and where the toilets were, while all the attendees ignored him and fiddled with their smart phones.

But NCVO don’t like to run things that way. When they make announcements about a fire alarm, the building actually catches fire later.

The fire itself was a bit of a damp squib, if that's not a mixed metaphor. It was all over a bit quickly, and doesn’t seem to have even stopped the cooks producing lunch. One man even continued running his seminar, out in the street.

But still, this was pretty fascinating fare compared to the normal stuff about good governance and risk management and the like.

Sir Stuart Etherington, chief executive of NCVO, stood up to say a few words during the drinks at the end of the night. He was quite excited, in his usual measured way, leaving you with the faint impression that he’d quite liked fire engines as a small child.

“Real firemen turned up,” he said. “They sprayed actual things with actual water.”

How long have I known you?

Seated together at the dinner following the conference were Rodney Buse, serial chair of all sorts of charities, including Guide Dogs, and his wife Diana Garnham, chief executive of the Science Council. The two of them met at an NCVO dinner, many years ago, and were keen to recount the story.

But there was some debate about when it had happened. Was it fifteen years ago, or sixteen? Or some other number. A slight domestic contretemps briefly ensued, but quietened down when the pudding arrived.

Diary has encountered similar problems at times when attempting to pin down significant dates in a relationship, and has developed two basic rules. First, you can pretty much assume that your wife is right. And second, if still in doubt, ask your kids how old they are. Then add nine months.

Drop the dead donkey

The ASA has not upheld a complaint against the Brooke, which claimed in a TV advert that “thousands of working donkeys die every day”.

This wasn’t one of the most strenuous decisions for the ASA, either. A quick reach for a calculator seems to have done it.

It appears there are 15 million or so working donkeys in the world, and they live, on average, just over 11 years. Or 4,000 days, roughly. Divide one by the other and you get a donkey death rate of 3,750 a day. Which is sad for the donkeys. But then, that was the Brooke’s point.

It’s a shame we require an ASA inquiry report to explain remedial maths, but there you go.

The moaners you'll have with you always

This is far from the only time-wasting complaint about charity recently. But rest assured, it's not a new thing.

In the 18th century, the Foundling Hospital, which took in unwanted children, was criticised by the Conservative Party because it encouraged promiscuity.

Similarly, there were complaints, even then, about too much money being spent on administration and not going to the cause. One of the directors of the hospital calculated it took £65 to raise a child, while a family could do it for £25, and resigned as a result.

Or so we're informed by Beth Breeze, director of the Centre for Philanthropy at the University of Kent, anyway. 

The lesson from this story? The hospital carried on strong. In fact, it’s still with us today as the charity Coram. So maybe the political complaints of the moment shouldn't occupy too much of our time.

* Although it may not have looked quite like the picture, opposite.