Chance of triple-dip falls on strong UK manufacturing

Eurozone contraction continues.

Markit economics has released PMIs for manufacturing across Europe, offering a snapshot of the state of the sector. It remains in ill-health, but the general picture is of a bottoming-out — it may still be shrinking, but the rate of decline is slowing.

(Standard explanation: PMIs, purchasing managers indices, are based on interviews with purchasing managers in various sectors. They aim to determine the level of activity in those sectors, and present them on a scale where 50 is equal to no change in activity, over 50 means increasing activity, and under 50 means decreasing activity. The indexes are not official measures of activity, but are generally extremely accurate predictors)

Spain enters its 21st straight month with a PMI under 50, but it is steadily rising; the reduction in new orders is slowest since June 2011. It's not good news — it's not even a turning point — but it's less bad news than there has been for a while.


Spanish manufacturing index

A similar story is evident in Italy; again, the manufacturing PMI hit a ten-month high [47.8 up from 46.7], but continued to imply contraction in the sector. While the fall in new orders tapered off, though, the pace of job cuts increased, though Markit reports that, anecdotally, the main reason seems to be non-replacement of voluntary leavers. That's about as good as contraction gets.


Italian manufacturing index

France is the darkest spot in the releases. The index fell to 42.9, indicating rapid contraction, and has been below 50 since the summer of 2011. New orders fell even faster — the sharpest rate since the great recession four years ago — and Markit's Jack Kennedy notes that it "suggests further steep falls in output are likely".


French manufacturing index

Conversly — and demonstrating again the split fortunes that we discussed last year — data for the UK demonstrates mild expansion. A PMI of 50.8, down from 51.2, is not ideal in what is still supposed the rapid upswing as we come out of a recession, but it does hint at continued strength in the sector. More importantly, it calms fears that we may be heading for a triple dip recession.

The rise in domestic manufacturing comes mainly from the continued strength of the consumer goods sector — and is partially offset by a contraction in investment goods. While in the short term the economy doesn't "care" which of those spending is focused on, if manufacturing of investment goods continues to shrink, as it has for the last six months barring a brief spike over the winter, then the hangover will be painful when that lack of investment bites.


UK manufacturing index

George Osborne inspects some manufacturing. More of it is happening now than before. Photograph: Getty Images

Alex Hern is a technology reporter for the Guardian. He was formerly staff writer at the New Statesman. You should follow Alex on Twitter.

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I can’t follow Marie Kondo's advice – even an empty Wotsits packet “sparks joy” in me

I thought I’d give her loopy, OCD theories a go, but when I held up an empty Wotsits bag I was suffused with so many happy memories of the time we’d spent together that I couldn’t bear to throw it away.

I have been brooding lately on the Japanese tidying freak Marie Kondo. (I forgot her name so I typed “Japanese tidying freak” into Google, and it was a great help.) The “Japanese” bit is excusable in this context, and explains a bit, as I gather Japan is more on the case with the whole “being tidy” thing than Britain, but still.

Apart from telling us that we need to take an enormous amount of care, to the point where we perform origami when we fold our underpants, which is pretty much where she lost me, she advises us to throw away anything that does not, when you hold it, “spark joy”. Perhaps I have too much joy in my life. I thought I’d give her loopy, OCD theories a go, but when I held up an empty Wotsits bag I was suffused with so many happy memories of the time we’d spent together that I couldn’t bear to throw it away.

After a while I gave up on this because I was getting a bit too happy with all the memories, so then I thought to myself, about her: “This is someone who isn’t getting laid enough,” and then I decided that was a crude and ungallant thought, and besides, who am I to wag the finger? At least if she invites someone to her bedroom no one is going to run screaming from it, as they would if I invited anyone to my boudoir. (Etym: from the French “bouder”, to sulk. How very apt in my case.) Marie Kondo – should bizarre circumstance ever conspire to bring her to the threshold – would run screaming from the Hovel before she’d even alighted the stairs from the front door.

I contemplate my bedroom. As I write, the cleaning lady is in it. To say that I have to spend half an hour cleaning out empty Wotsits packets, and indeed wotnot, before I let her in there should give you some idea of how shameful it has got. And even then I have to pay her to do so.

A girlfriend who used to be referred to often in these pages, though I think the term should be a rather less flippant one than “girlfriend”, managed to get round my natural messiness problem by inventing a game called “keep or chuck”.

She even made up a theme song for it, to the tune from the old Spiderman TV show. She would show me some object, which was not really rubbish, but usually a book (it may not surprise you to learn that it is the piles of books that cause most of the clutter here), and say, “Keep or chuck?” in the manner of a high-speed game show host. At one point I vacillated and so she then pointed at herself and said, “Keep or chuck?” I got the message.

These days the chances of a woman getting into the bedroom are remote. For one thing, you can’t just walk down the street and whistle for one much as one would hail a cab, although my daughter is often baffled by my ability to attract females, and suspects I have some kind of “mind ray”. Well, if I ever did it’s on the blink now, and not only that – right now, I’m not even particularly bothered that it’s on the blink. Because, for another thing, I would frankly not care to inflict myself upon anyone else at the moment.

It was all a bit of a giggle eight years ago, when I was wheeled out of the family home and left to my own devices. Of course, when I say “a bit of a giggle”, I mean “terrifying and miserable”, but I had rather fewer miles on the clock than I do now, and a man can, I think, get away with a little bit more scampish behaviour, and entertain a few more illusions about the future and his own plausibility as a character, when he is squarely in his mid-forties than when he is approaching, at speed, his middle fifties.

Death has rather a lot to do with it, I suppose. I had not actually seen, or touched, a dead body until I saw, and touched, my own father’s a few weeks ago. That’s what turns an abstract into a concrete reality. You finally put that to one side and gird up your loins – and then bloody David Bowie snuffs it, and you find yourself watching the videos for “Blackstar” and “Lazarus” over and over again, and reach the inescapable conclusion that death is not only incredibly unpleasant, it is also remorseless and very much nearer than you think.

And would you, dear reader, want to be involved with anyone who kept thinking along those lines? I mean, even if he learned how to fold his undercrackers into an upright cylinder, like a napkin at a fancy restaurant, before putting them in his drawer? When he doesn’t even have a drawer?

Nicholas Lezard is a literary critic for the Guardian and also writes for the Independent. He writes the Down and Out in London column for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 05 February 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Putin's war