When you have lived away from the UK as long as I have – 20+ years – you’d think you would have got over missing certain things from ‘home’.
Of course missing family and friends will always be there, but I’m talking about the little things … from television shows to food to events.
I remember how shocked I was when I discovered the UK had launched a new – and smaller – 50 pence piece while I was living in Australia.
I know in the big scheme of things, it’s nothing … but it really brought it home to me how long I’d been away.
Now I know that I can watch the television shows thanks to the power of technology and I can get chips, mushy peas and gravy anywhere … but to replicate ‘events’ is much, much harder.
I’m not talking Birthdays or Christmas – even though they will never be the same as they were when I was living in Blighty – I’m talking about the events that are uniquely British, from the Nottingham Riverside Festival to Pancake Day to, as it is tonight, Bonfire Night.
Each of these events have a lasting impression on me.
Yes, I know the Riverside Festival is basically a poor-man’s Goose Fair … and I appreciate I can have Pancakes every day if I so wish … but there’s something about those days that truly connects me to home.
Whether it’s the fact I would always see my friends, past and present, at the Riverside – normally while I’m stuffing an overpriced hotdog that had been heated to the surface area of the sun down my gob – or that Pancake Day would see Mum go into a mild panic as she looked around the house for the ingredients to make them [including orange juice, because I preferred that on my pancakes than Jif Lemon] … they were always very special days.
Which leads me to today. Bonfire Night.
While we never had fireworks at home – maybe a few sprinklers – the fact is we never needed any because we could stand outside our little garden and watch everyone else’s magical displays.
OK, so the reality is they were never that impressive – especially when compared to the organised stuff down at Trent Bridge Cricket Ground – but as a young kid, it didn’t really matter, because however bad the neighbours fireworks were, they were colourful and loud and that added something very different to my surroundings which, 99% of the time, would be quieter than a cemetery by 7pm.
Mind you, that lovely image is destroyed by the memory of Steven Stanley firing a huge ‘rocket’ up Greythorn Drive that – to our horror and relief – flew right underneath a car coming down the hill, only for it to explode seconds after passing the vehicle.
To say we got bollocked that night is a vast understatement.
But that aside, Bonfire Night is one of those nights that will be forever England for me which is why I’ll be watching this video and thinking of all of you later.
In 1978, Freddie Mercury wrote a song called Mustapha.
It appeared as the first track on their album, Jazz and was launched as a single in 1979.
Here’s the song …
When it was released, no one battered an eyelid.
No one.
Maybe it’s because it was a different time then … or maybe it’s because people knew Freddie’s heritage was not from England … but I was wondering what would happen if Queen released that single today.
Would the right-wing press claim they were supporting terrorism?
Would the Christian community say they were turning their back on their home nations [supposed] religion?
Would Muslim groups accuse them of trying to profit from their belief system?
I honestly don’t know, but judging what happened to the Dixie Chicks when then called out George W Bush, I bet it wouldn’t be something that went un-noticed like it did way back in 1978 … such is the love the media have for hyping-up paranoia regarding anything to do with religion, nationalism and multiculturalism.
And yes, I know what the music critics would say – and yes, I know it would be the same thing they said in 1978 – so you can keep your opinions to yourself, thank you very much.
Today is a hard day for me because today would have been my beloved Mum’s 83rd birthday.
Instead, it’s the first birthday since she died earlier this year.
In the 8 months or so since she’s gone, I’ve had a bunch of ups and downs.
Without doubt, I feel I have been handling things better than when I lost my Dad but if I’m being honest, that’s only because I now have my wonderful son to keep me occupied.
The reason I know this, is that over these past 8 months, I’ve been hit randomly by tidal waves of grief.
Some of these were set off by things you’d expect.
Correspondence from Mum’s lawyers about her will.
Reading the posts I wrote at my hour of need.
Experiencing – like today – anniversaries where we were together.
But there’s been other moments that seemingly came out from the blue.
Hearing sad situations that my friends are going through … from family members to pets.
Watching programs that shows someone doing good for the less fortunate.
Seeing Otis do something new and then realising I can’t ring Mum to tell her the news.
As much as I feel I am handling the grieving process as well as can be expected, I know that I have packed a lot of it up and hidden it somewhere deep inside.
The thought of going back to England scares me.
Part of me desperately wants to visit, the other part is petrified.
I want to see Mum’s house.
We had it completely renovated so the young family we wanted to help, could move in to somewhere special.
And it is special.
It’s like a totally new house.
And that’s both good and bad.
At first, I didn’t want to have it renovated. I didn’t want anyone to move in. I wanted to hire a security guard and just have them protect the house.
My house. My family home. The place where my history resides.
But then I realised Mum wouldn’t want me to do that. Not just because we could help a family who needed it, but because it would otherwise trap me in grief.
And – as usual – she was right.
By renovating the house, I was allowing a new chapter to begin.
Not just for the house, but for me.
That doesn’t mean what lived there has gone – it’s just taken a back seat, living amongst the particles that fill the house with life and love.
It took me a while to realise how important it was to do this – not just for me, but for the family who are now living there – because to have them stay in a house that felt like it still belonged to me, would stop them making their own precious memories and that would be wrong.
By taking this step, we all win.
The young family who has can have a fresh start – physically and metaphorically – in a beautiful house, in a beautiful place.
My Mum, whose name I hopefully have honoured by doing all this.
And me, because I get to keep the home that will forever be a foundational part of my history.
This all makes me feel good.
But as much as I want to see it … honour it … I am also nervous to see it.
To see the change.
To experience the familiarity but also feel a sense of disconnection.
To be a stranger in a place that has always been my home and – in some ways – still is.
And then I remember only 8 months have passed.
EIGHT MONTHS.
In some ways it feels like years and then, when I think of it, it feels like minutes … so this confliction isn’t too unexpected. Or at least I hope it isn’t.
That said, there are 2 things that really bite.
The first, as I mentioned, is when I get correspondence from the lawyer.
Any day now, I am expecting confirmation all the legal matters have been finalised.
I’m dreading it.
It means it’s done. Over.
Of course I know memories will live on, but the thought that my Mum will – legally and publically – cease to exist, rips me apart.
Her journey from being in the present to the past, will be complete.
I know this sounds strange for someone who has been gone for 8 months, but it’s how I feel.
The other thing is feeling I’m now on my own.
Yes, I have my wonderful wife, son and friends … but there is a very weird feeling when you realise you are the only one left from your original family.
You feel alone. Unsettled. Vulnerable.
But I know I am lucky.
I had amazing parents. I have an amazing family and I am surrounded with people I love.
But I miss my Mum.
So very, very much.
I would love to tell her so many things.
Things I told her a million times before and things I never said.
So if you will forgive me this last moment of indulgence, I want to say this to my Mum.
Mum. I miss you.
I miss you in a million ways.
I miss your gentle voice … your beautiful face … your kindness … your thoughts … everything.
I think about you every day. Every single day.
I wish with all my heart things were different.
I wish everything had turned out as it was supposed to turn out.
But I take solace in the fact you didn’t suffer and you knew I was with you at the end.
I take solace that you knew Otis was here and that he filled you with so much joy in your final few months.
And I take solace that you knew how much I love you.
I won’t let any of the things you taught me to go to waste, but I must admit I probably will still wear Birkenstocks in unclimate weather.
Sorry.
Happy birthday my dearest Mum.
I hope you’re holding hands with Dad and laughing.
Rxxx
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Filed under: Brand Suicide, Crap Marketing Ideas From History!, Marketing Fail
Way back in 2011 I gave San Pellegrino a swift kick in the bottles for their terrible joint promotion with Bvlgari.
4 years later and I discover I’m about as intimidating as a goldfish, because they’re not just continuing with their joint promotion rubbish, they’re going with even more ridiculous partners.
Mind you, given I obviously continued buying their brand despite my protestations from 4 years ago, who can blame them for ignoring me … and that’s despite the fact that everyone ignores me, regardless whether I’m in the right or not.
Which I rarely am.
Bugger.
Anyway, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, let me introduce you San Pellegrino and …
Yes, Vogue.
VOGUE.
Look, I get they want to ensure they’re seen as more than just another ‘water brand’ and I even accept [at a push] that they have associations [thanks to their heritage and country of origin] with categories and industries that go way beyond the typical food and beverage stuff, but this desperate need to be seen as a friend of overpriced, pretentious wankers totally confuses me given they are far more sophisticated, classic and real than those buggers could ever be.
And yes, I know this is coming from a man who wears Birkenstocks.
So San Pellegrino, please stop it or this time I really will stop drinking you.
Probably.
Filed under: Brand Suicide, Comment, Crap Campaigns In History, Marketing Fail
Manifesto ads do my head in.
There are times when there is a role for them – or at least, a role for a good one – but the reality is they should embody what a brand is doing in their product, service and behaviour rather than be a replacement for it.
Anyway, the reason I’m saying this is that I’ve just seen one that has scraped new depths of the shitty barrel.
It’s not just because it’s an endless stream of every airline ad cliche for the past 20 years … nor is it because it features a script that is so awful it makes – as I mentioned in the title of this post – that Gerrard Butler bollocks for Hugo Boss sound like Shakespeare …. it’s because the guy doing the voice over seems to think he’s doing the trailer for this centuries biggest movie release when really what he’s doing is voicing 2015’s biggest turkey.
Wanna see how bad it is?
Cop a load of this …
Now before anyone says I’m being a bastard because Vietnam is a developing country and I should take that into account when evaluating work.
1. I’d say you’re the one being patronising and prejudiced about the Vietnamese people.
2. The fact is there’s been a bunch of interesting work to have come out of Vietnam in the past few years.
3. This is supposed to be a ‘global spot’ … so it’s supposed to be enticing to all ‘global citizens’.
I genuinely feel sorry for Vietnam Airlines because not only are they a good airline, but they deserve – and I’d argue, need – better than this.
Of course when it comes to who to blame, there’s so many possible contenders.
The marketing director at Vietnam Airlines for lacking ambition.
The focus groups for promoting lowest-common-denominator parity.
The agency [JWT] for taking the money for making this tosh.
While there is an argument that by appearing ‘the same’ as the major players, you get considered in the same group as the major players … the reality is that’s highly unlikely, not unless you’re traveling to Vietnam or come from Vietnam.
If not, then I’d say that to convince someone who doesn’t know Vietnam Airlines to choose Vietnam Airlines over a well known airline will be very hard unless the ticket prices are dramatically cheaper, and then that might make them wonder if the price of the ticket reflects the quality of the aircraft and/or its maintenance.
Whoever is to blame, whatever the reasons, the fact is the end product does a massive disservice to Vietnam Airlines and I would suggest they listen to the advice I was told by a certain gentleman at Virgin Atlantic who sometimes comments on here.
“The moment you decide to play in the big league, you have to plan to win because playing not to lose means you lose”.