Finding My Virginity: The New Autobiography

by Richard Branson

  I was disappointed that Project didn’t work because journalism was where I’d begun all those years before. I started Student magazine because I had a passion for making a positive difference in the world, and thought one of the best ways to do so was by spreading the word in print about injustices, as well as sharing new breakthroughs and innovations in the arts, culture and politics. While I disliked school, I always loved writing and often posted letters home, published comment pieces in the Stowe School newspaper, and thought about becoming a journalist.

  As Student took off, I rapidly entered a surreal world of interviewing the likes of Mick Jagger and John Lennon, and commissioning pieces by Jean-Paul Sartre and David Hockney. In 1969, I even wrote an article in the Daily Mirror headlined “Enter The Peaceful Drop-Out.” Aged nineteen, filled with the optimism of youth, I ruminated on the power of individuals to stimulate positive change. But as well as realizing my journalistic ambitions through Student, I was trying to make ends meet, calling up potential advertisers and organizing distribution. Without even knowing what the word meant, I was becoming an entrepreneur. Then, as we struggled to balance our books, the mail-order records business we had started in the back of the magazine took off. Simultaneously, we were running the Student Advisory Center, our nonprofit organization helping more than 500 young people each week cope with issues ranging from loneliness to contraceptive advice to sexuality. With these projects taking up lots of time and effort, Student went on the back burner. Soon Virgin Records’ shops and later record label superseded everything and my journalism career was parked.

  But while Project wasn’t a success, I like to think Student’s spirit of outspoken thought and heady fun is revived through a different way of connecting with people: my blog and my Twitter account. In the same way I try to highlight causes we care passionately about, and I hope we’ve made a difference by campaigning online about global issues ranging from boardroom diversity to ocean conservation. We’ve basically started our own in-house, online publishing operation, and thanks to social media I’m back in the editor’s chair.

  To begin with, I was unsure about its benefits. But 8,000 tweets, scores of social networks, thirty-seven million followers and a world record for the most LinkedIn followers later, I’m happy to be proved wrong about social media not being here to stay. When Bob Fear and Christine Choi at Virgin HQ first set up my blog and Twitter account, I was surprised when lots of people started asking me questions online. There were random ones like “How do you make a fig roll?” alongside people with genuine queries about Virgin. It was fun, and I started to realize how powerful Twitter could be. I called Jonno Elliott, my personal investment manager, and we soon ironed out a deal to take part in Twitter’s next funding round. It was the start of a new series of investments into technology that I’ve become keen on pursuing.

  As well as the novelty factor, I could see how important social networks could become for customer service, something that has always set Virgin apart. When I was running companies hands on, I always made a point of personally handwriting replies to people who had complaints. Since I didn’t enjoy this, I made sure the problems were solved and not repeated. At the end of 2008, I received what is commonly referred to as the funniest complaint letter of all time. The author hadn’t enjoyed his meal on a Virgin Atlantic flight from London to Mumbai, and let me know in, frankly, hilarious terms. “Well, answer me this, Richard, what sort of animal would serve a dessert with peas in?” he wrote about our Indian meal option. “How can you live like this? I can’t imagine what dinner round your house is like; it must be like something out of a nature documentary.” As soon as I read the letter I called the Virgin Atlantic team to ensure our meals were back up to top standard. Then I phoned the unhappy customer, apologized for his below par experience and thanked him for his constructive, if tongue-in-cheek, letter. “I’m very sorry about this. On the bright side, you really made me laugh, which always helps to get my attention!” Even in social media’s early days, it spread like wildfire. Those companies who haven’t reacted to the expectations of swift, useful online service will see their customers move to their rivals quicker than you can type 140 characters.

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  People also often question how I find the time to write so regularly; whether notes, letters, blogs op-eds or even books like this. But the reality is I’m always getting my thoughts down on paper. The trick is to make it part of your daily routine. You have time to eat, drink, brush your teeth and do dozens of other things every day—just add writing to the list. I jot down ideas, thoughts, requests, reminders and doodles every single day; if I didn’t, I would forget them before I could ever put them into action. It doesn’t matter if you use a notebook and pen like me, or a shiny new tablet like Holly—the key is making writing a welcome habit. But keep a little pad in your back pocket just in case—you never have to charge a notebook.

  Making lists is both a way of remembering things and of ticking off achievements to mark progress. Without notes and follow-ups, chances are nothing would get done. I have met one particular government minister many times who never takes notes; he agrees on things and nothing happens. Another minister I know always takes notes, follows up and gets things done. If somebody works for me and doesn’t take notes, I ask them: “Are you too important? Note taking isn’t beneath anyone.” I take notes in every meeting, to keep the frame of mind to learn. I edit as I go along, and follow up with dates and tasks in order of importance. I couldn’t have written two autobiographies without them.

  Virgin has a note-taking culture and I’m certain it wouldn’t be the success it is today without it. The same goes for my assistants. I couldn’t get through the work day without Helen. She is my memory, travels the world with me and knows what I am thinking before I ask. Sometimes I feel that assistants work harder than the people they are working for. All of mine over the years—including Helen, Nicki Elliott, Penni Pike, Sue Hale, Saskia Dornan, Sam Cox, Alexia Hargrave, Sarah Ireland, Louella Faria, Emma Dona and Caroline Gold—have shown unbelievable diligence. They really do become part of the family, and are among my greatest friends, too.

  My first widely read blog, in early 2010, was about the art of delegation. It was an appropriate theme since delegation has been a secret of my success for five decades. Asking for support is a strength, not a weakness. If you try to do everything yourself, you won’t succeed and will make yourself miserable along the way. As a dyslexic, things like spelling and grammar have never come naturally to me. Rather than waste time pondering the difference between “there,” “they’re” and “their,” I find talented people to collaborate with and delegate to. I now work with Greg Rose and our content team on around 600 blogs per year, and call the team several times a day (and night!). If you think that sounds too time-consuming, think of all the things you do that take lots of time and are not productive. Rather than slave over a spreadsheet, why not write a blog and turn your pitch into a story? Humans communicate through stories; it’s how we make sense of our surroundings, ourselves and our place in the world. As the writer Lawrence Weschler said in The New New Journalism: “Human beings have glands that secrete all sorts of things. But the human mind secretes stories. We live narratives. That is the only way we know how to experience anything, and it is our glory.”

  In 2013 an IMB study found that only 16 percent of 1,700 CEOs were participating in social media and just one had their own blog. Yet social media is fast becoming the number one way to share stories and engage with customers on a global basis, with no restrictions from media partners, territories or anything else. Every CEO should be online, representing their business, letting their customers as well as their staff into their world, and learning in real time the feedback that could make all the difference to their companies’ fortunes. Some organizations still spend tens of thousands of pounds doing surveys hardly anybody bothers filling in, in the hope of finding out what their teams and clients really think. If they
just logged online, they could find out a whole lot faster, and have an instant platform to reply, sympathize, share and—as importantly—say thank you.

  As I discovered from my dad, nobody ever learned anything by listening to themselves speak. I try to reply to as many people as possible, at least a few every day. If it were a one-way street, there wouldn’t be many people walking down it. The whole point is to spark conversation and initiate debate. In fact, put down this book (for a moment!) and tweet me a question using #askrichard—I’ll try to answer it.

  I was sitting in Soho House in New York one September and decided to answer some questions from Facebook over breakfast. There were lots of business queries, and one man asked: “What was your first big opportunity?” Underneath his question, somebody else asked: “Who did you lose your virginity with?” I glanced at my screen, took another sip of tea, then chose to tackle the second question. It turned out I had just been in touch with my first girlfriend, a delightful Dutch girl called Rudi. She’d contacted me after half a century to say she’d found some of my old love letters. (We met up later with our families in Amsterdam to reminisce about old times and laugh over my high-on-hormones teenage compositions.) The guy who asked the first question saw my answer and commented: “Richard, you ignored my serious request and instead answered a silly question about sex. I’m not even disappointed.” In a roundabout fashion I had answered his first question, though—in many ways, losing my virginity was my first big opportunity!

  CHAPTER 26

  Revealing Character

  “Sports do not build character,” American journalist Heywood Broun once wrote, “they reveal it.” I’ve always found the second half of this statement to be true, and often find out more about potential business partners on the tennis court than in the boardroom. But the first half I am less sure about from my own personal experience: when I first began playing sports, it was the only thing I had to build my own character around.

  I was seven years old when I was sent away from my family to boarding school in Sussex. Scaitcliffe Preparatory School was not a happy home for me, as my dyslexia was not diagnosed and the teachers just thought I was simple. I was repeatedly caned for giving wrong answers, failing tests and even walking across the wrong patch of grass. To add insult to injury I had to say, “Thank you, sir” every time the headmaster caned my backside. I was, like many kids, unhappy, miserable, lonely and longing for escape.

  This escape came in sports, when I discovered I had a talent for games. I quickly became the captain of cricket, football and rugby. Being good at sports automatically meant that being bullied by older boys was out of the question, and even the schoolmasters went easier on me. After winning trophies every sports day in my first few years at Scaitcliffe, I had a day to remember just before my eleventh birthday: I won every event I entered. As well as the sprints and distance runs, I triumphed in the long jump on my first ever attempt, breaking a long-held school record in the process. I even learned my first (and probably last) bit of Latin, Victor ludorum, which means “The winner of the games”—another prize I got that day. When I met my sister Lindi and parents in a big white marquee afterward, I said, “I’ve decided I’m going to be a professional sportsman.”

  But my sporting career was ended before it really began. The very next term we were playing a football match against a rival school and, after I scored the first goal, the game turned dirty. As I latched onto a through ball and prepared to shoot, the defender marking me slid in to tackle me from behind. He fell across me and my legs buckled, horribly twisting my knee. I let out a bloodcurdling scream, and the next thing I knew the school matron was driving me to the hospital. I had badly torn the cartilage in my right knee, and, after injections and an operation, the doctor said it was unlikely I’d play contact sports again. I was distraught.

  School took a turn for the worse as I didn’t have any athletic achievements to detract from my appalling academic record. Before I even had the chance to fail the Common Entrance exam, I was moved from Scaitcliffe to a “crammer” school called Cliff View House. There, other than eerie early-morning runs on the freezing Sussex coast, there was no sport to distract me. Instead, I found a new diversion in the form of the headmaster’s beautiful eighteen-year-old daughter. As an impressionable thirteen-year-old, I was overjoyed that she took a shine to me, and we quickly arranged some late-night liaisons. I was promptly expelled when the headmaster caught me sneaking back through my dormitory window. When he asked what I was doing, I replied: “I was on my way back from your daughter’s room, sir.” I only escaped expulsion after pretending I was suicidal and being dragged back from the cliff known as Lovers’ Leap. Many years later I was mentioned in the divorce proceedings for the headmaster’s daughter, her husband claiming our schoolboy fling forty years earlier had contributed to the end of their marriage. I can’t see how, but wish them both all the best.

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  While my dreams of becoming a professional sportsman were never fulfilled, it didn’t mean that I couldn’t still enjoy the benefits of exercise, and even raise some money for good causes in the process. That opportunity came up in 2010, when my friend Andy Swain called me up to let me know that the sponsorship of the London Marathon was up for grabs.

  I’d watched the London Marathon from afar for years, and had always been tempted to give it a go. But I knew it wasn’t the kind of event you could just turn up to and perform in—it takes months of preparation. The sponsorship deal seemed just the prod I needed to take part. As soon as I spoke to Andy, I thought it would be perfect for Virgin Money, and got Alex Tai and Jayne-Anne to look into it.

  “It’s a perfect fit for Virgin,” I told them. “A great British event that brings all kinds of different people together and gets them active, having fun and pushing each other to their limits.”

  The event was already a huge success, but we felt we could shake up its fundraising strategy and raise lots more money for good causes. We set up the not-for-profit website Virgin Money Giving to boost online fundraising, making sure all donations went directly to where they were needed most—the charities people train, fundraise and run so hard to support. In each of our first six years the Virgin Money London Marathon broke the fundraising record and the race is now the largest annual single-day charity fundraising event worldwide, with £830 million raised since it began in 1981.

  If we were going to sponsor the marathon, I knew at some point I was going to have to put my trainers on. When the call came asking if I would run, I immediately said yes—then forgot about it for a few months. It was a busy time, and I didn’t have much chance to add running to my schedule. Since injuring my knee as a child I hadn’t done any serious running and I wasn’t sure if my cartilage would cope. My regular kitesurfing and tennis would surely keep my fitness ticking over, and I’d worry about the running part later, or so my logic went. In the meantime, my kids went about rallying their own amazing team to tackle the marathon. They set up a charity to accelerate change for young people in the UK, and convinced their friends to join in an audacious fancy-dress record attempt to mark the launch. Big Change was born, and soon thirty-four friends could be seen tied together on training runs around west London. They challenged themselves to become the most people joined together ever to complete the 26.2-mile marathon course—all while dressed as a giant caterpillar. Perhaps it was all those Eric Carle bedtime stories I had read Sam and Holly while they were growing up? When I heard how hard they were training, I realized I needed to shape up. I began running around Necker each morning and stopped eating my favorite chocolate digestives. By the time the day came, I felt confident I could make it around the course.

  It was a roasting hot day in London that Sunday morning in late April 2010. The crowds were hot, never mind the runners at the start line: I, meanwhile, was the hottest of the lot, dressed as a gigantic butterfly at the head of Team Caterpillar, sweating out of fear about what I’d let myself in for. But
as the miles started ticking by, the crowd seemed to get louder and louder. To my surprise I found that, though my legs ached like never before, the enthusiasm and support of both the crowd and my fellow competitors kept me going. Fellow runners kept stopping to shake my hand, and the atmosphere was one of pure delight. It was great running with such a strong team, with Kenyan athletics legend Tegla Loroupe and my friend Natalie Imbruglia among them.

  It was tough going dressed as a butterfly: the fabric was heavier than it looked and really slowed me up running into the wind. But soon I had bigger problems. I was advised to take some energy gel when I felt tired, and Nick passed it to me around the fifteen-mile mark, as we passed News InternationaI’s HQ. I immediately felt my stomach grumble, and began groaning. I started to panic that I was going to shit myself, dressed as a giant butterfly, in front of thousands of people—what a way to launch the Virgin London Marathon! Thankfully, Tegla saw what was going on and quickly gave me a pill to settle my stomach. It was a close call!

  As we turned into the home stretch, I looked across at the union flags flying in the breeze and my kids just behind with beaming smiles on their faces. It was one of the proudest moments of my life. Team Caterpillar broke the Guinness World Record, while Princess Beatrice, one part of the caterpillar, became the first member of the royal family to complete the marathon. Somehow, I made it round in 5 hours, 2 minutes and 24 seconds. If you want advice on how to tackle a marathon, I can tell you from experience that it’s simple: don’t worry if you fall flat on your face—at least you’re still moving forward!

  After the marathon, I had a taste for trying more sporting challenges with my children, and getting Virgin involved, too. In 2012, Virgin Active began sponsoring the London Triathlon, the largest of its kind in the world. I joined up with my kids again to take part in a relay team including David Hasselhoff, who I had last seen when making a guest appearance on Baywatch. The Hoff gave me some unusual advice in case I got myself in a spot where I didn’t want to get recognized.