I don't suggest this as a fail-safe strategy for good journalism but, arriving at the Design Council for a breakfast meeting, I discovered I had nothing to write on, or with. It was very early in the morning. I needn't have worried. The Design Council HQ, opposite the Royal Opera House in central London, is a model open-plan office. Pastel in hue and subtle in style, it has duck-egg blue corduroy sofas under diffused lighting and wooden easels parked against walls tinted with colour. And on every circular coffee table is a generous pad of branded paper and matching eraser-tipped pencil. The only thing missing is an Alice-inspired luggage label reading "Take me".
This is exactly what the Design Council is aiming to achieve on a grand scale. Well-designed accoutrements facilitate work and communications, as well as help out feckless hacks. The Council has embarked on a mission, from revamping the brand of a drain-cleaning company to enabling teachers to choose bespoke furniture for their schools. "We want people to achieve best practice by connecting with designers," said the Council's chief executive, David Kester, a man at ease both in a chalk-striped designer suit and with the tortured phraseology of the brand consultant. "We want to put things under the design lens."
The "design lens" is a long way from the groovy little triangular Kitemark that swung from everything iconic in the Seventies, from Morphy Richards kettles to Habitat sofas. "Back then, the consumer welcomed the leadership of the Kitemark," Kester remarked. "But we no longer need government agencies to tell us what good design is." Forget the nation's kitchens - Kester has bigger ambitions. "We are looking to achieve a strategy for national design. Our key role is to help British business by instilling notions of design deep within their structure."
The Council has laid out an index of approval, matching performance by companies in the FTSE-100 with an assessment of their managed approach to design. "We need to get our companies designing around an end user," said Kester. "There is a clear link between the client, the designer and the consumer." Even in state schools and NHS hospitals, apparently. And even in the regions. "We did a presentation in Leeds the other day. We had a great turn out. We are not proposing a regional make-over, but if you are spending the money anyway, why not make sure it has great design? If good design can give you the right tools for the job, then it's an investment for the future."
The Council, which has an annual budget of £6.2m from the Department of Trade and Industry, has developed a consumer guide for schools. This is for teachers who need help choosing tables, chairs, lighting, and so on. There is even going to be a consumer catalogue, through which teachers may flick during moments of down time in the staff room. "We are looking at health next," Kester said. "So many accidents in hospitals could be prevented by better design. Giving the wrong medication - that's due to pill bottles looking the same. We propose bringing in different coloured bottles. It's all about visualising ideas."
Inside the pastel-washed offices of the Council, this all looked very clear. Outside, life - as represented by the London rush hour in its chaotic and determinedly undesigned fashion - was getting under way.
