I don’t want to be a nurse or a nun, but I’d like to do something which improves things a bit I’d be totally miserable simply to be earning money. I don’t even see people being happy when they have made all their money and can retire at 40 or whatever.When I’m in England, my time is so full that I’d hate to be in an office all five days a week and in the evening. There are other things – quiet times and solitude, and walking in the country, and being with my friends and family. I appreciate knowing people well, because I’ve made an effort to stay in touch with people I have a circle who know me well, and to whom I can turn I’d hate only to have two weeks a year when I could do that. I spend a lot of time with my mother and sisters and their children They are more than just my family, they’re my friends. My friends in the City have stopped seeing how anyone else lives, they just live in their offices.I admire doctors and lawyers immensely, but I know I wouldn’t be prepared to do those long hours.

I want to do things like going to the cinema, going to the park with my nieces and nephews, sitting in my room sewing, having time to contemplate things. In Pakistan, I work long hours, but I can do that because my friends and family aren’t there.I’m scared about going to Pakistan, but I never want the sadness of regretting not having taken the opportunity of doing something important with my life. W hen C & J Clark was solely in the business of making shoes which allowed our toes to spread nicely, visitors to its factory in Street in Somerset were welcomed by a Henry Moore sculpture outside the gates. The same work of art now heralds the Pepsi Cola headquarters in the States, following its sale around the time that Clarks diversified into the business of dispensing a special kind of retail therapy to millions of people every year. Clarks’ new speciality in Street is the thriving business of bargains; let’s hope Pepsi Cola got a good deal from its precious lump of English heritage.

Street is a small town in the ancient Vale of Avalon, on the edge of the Somerset Levels, where the vibrations of Camelot, the evidence of King Arthur’s conquests and the establishment of the first Christian church in England by Joseph of Arimathea are still witnessed by tourists.
But the real pilgrimage destination in today’s Avalon is Clarks Village in Street, where the electronic footfall counter shows that between 2.6-2.75 million people will visit the “village” this year bearing fat wallets and retreating heavy with booty, feeling much better for buying all that kit at a knockdown price. Clarks’ high-street names – like Benetton, Laura Ashley, Thornton’s, Black & Decker and Dartington Glass – have been the hottest attraction in the West Country for almost two years, edging close to Alton Towers in terms of feet on concrete.”People come here with a different philosophy from the way they go shopping in the high street,” explains Paul Knight, Clarks Retail and Factory Shopping Development Manager “They have no specific purchase in mind. They might come out with an electric drill, a new frock or a bag of chocolate, but they’ll have done what they set out to do – save money. To show they’ve saved money they need to spend money, and they do it seriously.” Everything on sale in the village is what the retail trade calls “distressed” stock, which might mean lipstick on a collar, last year’s goods, slow-selling lines or the results of a cancelled order.The outlets, never to be confused with shops, are candid about what they are offering. Each has a plaque outside in tasteful green and gold (to match the signposts to the playground, plentiful pristine loos and Clarks shoe museum) explaining the nature of their wares. “We’re all in the business of fashion,” says Mr Knight, “and by definition, what was fashionable at one time soon becomes unfashionable. Successful retailers will always have big winners, but they’ll also have to deal with their losers.

And though we don’t like the word losers, certain products can only be accessed by the public at lower price points.”Mr Knight insists he is speaking on behalf of Clarks and all the partners in the village (company policy includes a reluctance to use the words landlord and tenant as they imply conflict) and he would actually prefer to be referred to simply as a spokesperson. Such semantics are the only detectable glimmer within this new operation of the strong Quaker reputation of the Clark family in Street, who remain the major shareholders in all its dealings.Down the original main shopping street stands the elegant Quaker Meeting House, iron and windows too high from the ground for curiosity. Gravestones are all the same unassuming shape, set in rows, many bearing the name of Clark in plain lettering. It seems as distant as the moon from the avid throngs in Clarks Village, where the Quaker stress on avoiding the snares of worldliness and all that encumbers the soul from communion with Christ must be a tricky concept to deal with.The tills in the malls are whirring well. Clarks not only knows how many wallet-bearers come through the gate each hour, but also how long they are there and how much they spend. This is a crucial consideration, though far too “commercially sensitive” to divulge, says Mr Knight. After all, the company does not charge a basic ground rent to its partners, but employs a turnover-rent system, whereby Clarks takes a percentage of each outlet’s takings.