Stars shine always in a clear sky.

Estonian proverb

When I was a pupil at St Paul’s School I was fortunate to sit at the feet of a master of the art of being clear. Field Marshal Lord Montgomery, who happened to be an ex-pupil of the school, came back to give a lecture to the sixth form about the campaign that led up to the famous victory of El Alamein in the Second World War.

Monty, as he was universally known, had based the Allied Headquarters responsible for the planning of D-Day and the invasion of Nazi-occupied Europe in the large red brick building that his old school had vacated for the duration.

Thus he spoke to us in the very same lecture hall that he had used for his final briefings on those plans to King George VI, Winston Churchill and General Eisenhower. It was easy for me as a schoolboy to capture the ‘atmosphere’, as Montgomery liked to call it.

Above all, his refreshing clarity lingers in my mind, as well as the fact that he spoke without notes – something that I learned to do myself much later.

He could describe a complex situation with amazing lucidity and sum up a long exercise without the use of a single note. He looked straight into the eyes of the audience when he spoke. He had a remarkable flair for picking out the essence of a problem, and for indicating its solution with startling clarity. It was almost impossible to misunderstand his meaning, however unpalatable it might be.

If you want to achieve that enviable clarity, the arrangement or structure of what you are saying should be clear, so that people know roughly where they are and where they are going. The reasoning should be sharp and clean cut, without the blurred edges of those who gloss over the issues.

Lastly, avoid the obscure reference, the clouded remark, the allusion that few will understand or the word that is fashionable but all too muddy in its meaning.