Filed under: 2025, 2026, A Bit Of Inspiration, Age, Attitude & Aptitude, Colenso, Colleagues, Doctor, Eye, Generosity, Happiness, Health, Hope, Metallica, NHS, Nurses, Process
It’s Monday. In the first few weeks of going back to work after a longish break. And all we are hearing is shit, depressing news from all over the World … so you would imagine today’s post would continue that theme of darkness, and yet it isn’t.
No seriously. It’s bordering on embarrassingly cheery and happy. Admittedly, cheery and happy for me – but given so many people have contributed to the reason for this, I’m hoping it has some positive effect on you too.
So as the title of this post states – a lot can happen in 12 months.
I appreciate you’re saying “no shit”, but as I pointed out, I’m not talking about global events, tech companies or the economy … I’m talking about this from a very, very personal point of view.
Truth be told, when you get to my age, a lot of life has found its natural rhythm so while there will be ups and downs, overall you tend to know how to surf life’s waves.
But the last year for me was pretty extreme.
Don’t get me wrong, the overall view of the year was good – as I wrote about here – but apart from the tragedy of losing many friends and a fucked-up situation with someone I thought was a better human than they proved themselves to be, the biggest challenge I faced was my sight.
I’ve had eye problems since I was 21 but in January 2025, my ‘good’ eye got an infection in Penang, Malaysia that commenced one of the worst medical rollercoasters I’ve had in my life.
And I’ve had a few.
What was initially considered to be a few weeks of discomfort turned into weekly – often daily – hospital visits, endless tests, a range of medical experts being called in, over 50 meds-a-day, a diagnosis so rare it become a medical ‘white paper’ and … worst of all … blindness.
Proper blindness.
The impact of all this on my mental health was pretty severe. To be honest, I hadn’t really realised how much until the festive holiday where my body had the time to finally start to loosen the tension it had been holding – and this was despite visiting a psychologist both after a particularly bad test result and when I was weighing up whether to do the operation as the risks were pretty high.
I say all this because last week I went in for another check-up. My first of the new year … and while the operation had been a success – thanks to my doctor, my surgeons and the intervention of the wonderful PM and his high profile ‘clients’, who organised the specialist who actually invented the operation I was going to have, to come to NZ and consult on my procedure – we didn’t know if it would turnaround my situation.
The good news was after the op, I had some vision – which was a massive news, however I couldn’t see much other than certain blurs of beige.
But over the weeks, with the post-op meds, rest and time – I did sense things were improving, but given one of the issues I had was pressure build up [which you don’t feel] I was pretty apprehensive.
Anyway, to cut a long story short, my check-up revealed the pressure was very good – as in, ‘fully under control’, which meant the main part of the operation had not just worked, but was holding. But then the shockingly good news.
My eyesight was better than my other eye.
That’s right, my operated eye was – under certain conditions – performing better than the eye I’d been relying on for the past 12 months. The irony being that eye was previously shit given my detached retina when I was 21 … but such is the magic of the brain, it has somehow improved to compensate for for my blindness, but now – as the other eye was getting better – it decided not to try so hard.
I cannot tell you what it felt like to hear that.
To be fair, even the specialist and surgeon were shocked at the level and speed of improvement … but they have not just given me the ability to see again, they’ve almost returned my eyesight to pre-illness levels.
No more bumping into people.
No more having my phone screen on max zoom.
No more going to hospital every day and week.
And maybe, no more dressing like a ‘festival chick’ for the Colenso Christmas party.
[Which happened post-op so I literally have zero excuse, haha]
I know, your eyes are now fucked after that image aren’t they. Sorry. At least I can recommend some excellent medical experts. You’re welcome – hahaha.
Anyway, while I’ll need medication for the rest of my life, have regular check-ups and be mindful of lifting heavy items … it really feels like I’ve been given my whole life back.
I know that sounds dramatic. I know there are many others worse off than I ever was or would have been. And I appreciate I was very lucky that I saw a GP quickly … they recognised the severity of the problem straight away … and I had the insurance – and unexpected contacts – who got me the best specialists and surgeons in the country (and worldwide) but there were moments where I felt, with good reason, that the life I had may be taken away from me.
I know I’d have survived.
I know I’d have got through it.
But the problem is at the time, you focus on what’s going to change rather than what you’re going to do … which is why I’m so grateful to everyone who helped, supported and encouraged me over the past 12 months.
From family and friends to nurses and doctors to colleagues and clients to acquaintances and strangers. All of you helped make sure that however dark some moments were, the light was never completely out. Even it is was in my eye. Ha.
So thank you. Thank you so, so much.
And god bless medicine and all you work with it and practice it. At a time where we have global leaders trying to diminish and undermine medical science and medical care, it’s the doctors and nurses we should be listening to, celebrating and compensating – they’re the hero’s, not the entitled egotists who claim to represent the people but only care for themselves.
And if I thought I could see through their bullshit before, I can see it even more clearly now.
Literally and metaphorically.
So with that, happy Monday … but probably not as happy as I will be.
Filed under: Advertising, Age, Aspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Authenticity, Career, Cliches, Emotion, Empathy, Mum, Mum & Dad, My Childhood, Prejudice, Pride
I’m back … well, at least in terms of this blog.
And while last week was a detour from what it was supposed to be, it ended up being very important given the rollercoaster I experienced with my health and some other stuff. But the good news is the help and support I received from so many has helped set me up for a slightly batshit crazy week [in a good way] the week after next – before a truly once-in-a-lifetime stupid week in early 2026 which – which for an impatient-as-fuck only child, is about as big a compliment as I can give.
Yes, I get that’s a big call, but how can it not be when it involves a true global legend/icon/god/hero [delete where appropriate, except they’re all of them]!!!
I should point out my excitement is not because of their fame … but because of the things they do that make a real difference and impact to millions around the World, in ways so many brands often talk about with their ‘brand purpose’ but rarely ever do anything with. Mainly because most of them see ‘purpose’ as a marketing gimmick/wrapper rather than an instrument for fundamental and actual change.
It’s why Paula and I talked about what brands and advertising can learn from artists at Cannes this year … but it seems we would rather blindly follow frameworks, models and rebadged established principals being peddled by certain people/organizations [despite having never made products or work that have driven commercially valuable societal change] than learn from the artists who continually out-play, out-think, out-last, out-innovate and out-influence the marketing industry with their endless resources.
And we wonder why we are failing?
Thanks for making me angry, it will help fight off the jet lag, ha.
Anyway, I appreciate the title of this post may sound heavy – especially for a Monday morning – but given aging is something every single one of us is going to face at some point, it felt worth writing. Even more so, given I didn’t really write it … I’m just publishing the words of a 95 year old actress that really resonated with me.
Not just because I’m old … not just because despite being 55, I’m still ambitious and have things I want to do and achieve … not just because I’m still working at the sharp end of an industry that loves killing people over 40 … but because it reminds me so much of my Mum’s attitude to life.
Wanting to keep growing and participating in life – regardless of her age.
Not in an attempt to ‘be young’, but with a desire to stay connected to what is going on around her. To be able to contribute, understand, explore and learn.
I’ve written a lot about this in the past.
How she decided to learn Russian, aged 60.
How she would go to shows by new artists – be it in film, music or comedy.
How she would take an active interest in hearing counter perspectives so she had a rounded view.
Basically – as she instilled in me – to be interested in what other people are interested in.
So she wouldn’t feel disconnected.
So she wouldn’t be disconnected.
So she could be engaged and active.
In many ways, Mum was driven by a desire to not play to the elderly person stereotype. Not because she wanted to be young, but because she didn’t want others to define the life she wanted to experience and live. The older I get the more I realise what an amazing role-model she was for me. To me. And while I don’t have her brains or talent, I definitely have her independence to follow the path I believe in or am excited by … rather than what many others would like me to follow.
Which leads me to the article I want to post.
It’s by the actress Patricia Routledge – better known as Mrs Bucket [pronounced, according to her, ‘Bouquet’] from the 90’s TV show, ‘Keeping Up Appearances’.
She wrote it a month before her 95th birthday [FYI: she sadly died, aged 96½, on Oct 3rd] and its a brilliant piece for anyone who is worried that if they haven’t ‘made it’ by a certain age – the chances of it are over. It’s also a great reminder that so much of the good things in life owe as much to luck as they do to talent.
Given it’s a Monday – a day where insecurities and struggles often come to the forefront – I hope this makes you look ahead with a little more optimism, energy and hope than you may otherwise have imagined. While it is all excellent, there are a couple of points that I think are some of the best ways to look at life that I’ve ever read. Which is why with all the challenges and fears we face, embrace, invite and are faced with … we could all do with being ‘more Bucket’. Enjoy.
I’ll be turning 95 this Monday. In my younger years, I was often filled with worry — worry I wasn’t quite good enough, that no one would cast me again, that I wouldn’t live up to my mother’s hopes. But these days begin in peace, and end in gratitude.
My life didn’t quite take shape until my forties. I had worked steadily — on provincial stages, in radio plays, in West End productions — but I often felt adrift, as though I was searching for a home within myself that I hadn’t quite found.
At 50, I accepted a television role that many would later associate me with — Hyacinth Bucket, of Keeping Up Appearances. I thought it would be a small part in a little series. I never imagined it would take me into people’s living rooms and hearts around the world. And truthfully, that role taught me to accept my own quirks. It healed something in me.
At 60, I began learning Italian — not for work, but so I could sing opera in its native language. I also learned how to live alone without feeling lonely. I read poetry aloud each evening, not to perfect my diction, but to quiet my soul.
At 70, I returned to the Shakespearean stage — something I once believed I had aged out of. But this time, I had nothing to prove. I stood on those boards with stillness, and audiences felt that. I was no longer performing. I was simply being.
At 80, I took up watercolor painting. I painted flowers from my garden, old hats from my youth, and faces I remembered from the London Underground. Each painting was a quiet memory made visible.
Now, at 95, I write letters by hand. I’m learning to bake rye bread. I still breathe deeply every morning. I still adore laughter — though I no longer try to make anyone laugh. I love the quiet more than ever.
I’m writing this to tell you something simple:
Growing older is not the closing act. It can be the most exquisite chapter — if you let yourself bloom again.
Let these years ahead be your treasure years.
You don’t need to be famous. You don’t need to be flawless.
You only need to show up — fully — for the life that is still yours.
With love and gentleness, Patricia Routledge.”
___________________________________________________________________________________________
How amazing is that?
Which is why if anyone needs a reminder of how to actually live life – rather than just go through it – then I think these two sentences sum it up best for me:
“Growing older is not the closing act. It can be the most exquisite chapter — if you let yourself bloom again.”
And …
“You only need to show up — fully — for the life that is still yours.”
Thank you Patricia. I am pretty certain there are a hell of a lot of people who needed to hear that or be reminded of it. Especially on a Monday morning.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Age, Attitude & Aptitude, Bonnie, Childhood, Comment, Dad, Daddyhood, Death, Family, Fatherhood, Jewellery, Jill, Love, Loyalty, Mum, Mum & Dad, My Childhood, My Fatherhood, Otis, Parents, Relationships, Resonance, Respect
On Friday I talked about the ring that had replaced my lost wedding ring.
A wedding ring that had been made to combine both my Dad’s wedding ring and the one given to me by Jill.
I wrote how this new ring had – thank god – been able to incorporate some of Dad’s ring [that I’d had left when I had it resized] as well as some things from Jill’s ring [that she kindly donated to me] so that it was something of real significance and sentimental value to me.
I treasure it.
It’s far more than the metal it’s made of.
But recently I saw something that reminded me why it is so significant.
This …
I don’t know why, but the thought I will [hopefully] know Otis more as an adult than a kid completely fucked with me.
Of course he will always be ‘my child’ but being the person I see every day … the person I watch growing up in front of me … the person he turns to for laughs, help, advice or an audience … the person who loves and hugs his dog … is something I treasure deep in my psyche and soul.
As I wrote before, while all parents know their kids grow up fast, what makes it tolerable is that as they develop … they learn or express new things that you adore, which helps offsets the sadness of seeing the old things you loved, fall away.
But there will be a time where you don’t get to see this growth every day.
Where you aren’t their World, you’re just a part of it. One associated more with the past than the present.
Back in 2016, I wrote about that – based on an brilliant article in The Guardian – and fuck me, if it was hard to deal with then, it’s even harder to accept 9 years later as we get closer and closer to a time he will move on, that you know is coming but wish wasn’t.
That doesn’t mean you don’t want your child to have their own life.
To forge their own interests and passions and journeys moving forward.
But the idea of being relegated to ‘observer’ is hard, even though – as my parents showed with me – it is one of the greatest gift you could ever give your child.
The values to live.
The lessons to progress.
The encouragement to explore.
The freedom to build write your own story.
What brought this all to a head was a video I watched of Michelle Obama recently, talking about her Mum.
“Wow, this went fast”.
Not just watching your child become an adult, but life.
And as much as Mae West said: “you only live once, but if you do it right … once is all you need”, the reality is life does go fast.
What makes it more bizarre is that as you get older … as life passes-by slower … it all seems to accelerate at the same time.
Which is why it’s so important to treasure and value what you have.
Not take it for granted.
Not get swept up with the things that – in the big scheme of things – don’t matter.
It’s taken me a long time to learn this.
It’s taken watching my wonderful, brilliant son grow up to really understand this.
Despite watching my amazing Mum and Dad pass, it’s Otis who has helped me appreciate time and life.
Not just with him, but with everyone around me.
Which is why that video of ‘knowing your child more as an adult than a kid’ hit me.
Not because that is bad, but because the moment is so special.
And while growing up is a good and natural thing – which I have obviously been trying to come to terms with for a long time, given I wrote this about Otis becoming an adult back in 2021 – it’s still a reminder that you rarely know you’re living the time of your life, until after it has passed.
It’s why both those videos may have been uncomfortable reminders.
But also beautiful gifts.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Advertising, Age, Attitude & Aptitude, Curiosity, Distinction, Insight, Planners, Planners Making A Complete Tit Of Themselves And Bless, Planning, Point Of View, Pretentious Rubbish, Relevance, Resonance
One of the things I hate about planning is the quest for intellectual superiority.
Of course, not everyone is like that … but there’s a hell of a lot who are.
Wielding their smarts like a sword, without realizing that it is rarely as sharp or dangerous as they think. Or hope.
It’s why I also find those who bang on about planning being all about ‘curiosity’ laughable. To imply that’s a trait solely owned by those of the strategic community is egotism at its best.
Sure, there are some truly brilliant thinkers in our industry, but more often than not, we’re surrounded by a bunch of loud duplicators.
And there would be nothing wrong with that if these people admitted their declarations came from – or were influenced by – others. But in a world where everyone wants to position themselves as the brightest, sharpest mind – more often than not, we hear history being restated with just a more modern, confident voice.
Of course we all do it to a certain extent – I know I will have – but the realty is I find the most interesting perspectives coming from people outside of adland rather than in. That does not mean there are not good things being said within our industry, it’s just they all tend to follow whatever theme is cool at the time, so – for me at least – it all gets a bit boring.
Which is all my way of saying how much I enjoy hearing or reading the ‘insights’ of people form outside our bubble. Sure, some can be utterly farcical. And some may be doing the same repackaging as I’ve just complained about. But occasionally you come across something so sharp that you find yourself asking ‘when was the last time you read something so brilliantly stated from your peers’.
That happened to me recently with this before/after photo of Mickey Rourke.
No, I don’t mean the photo.
Nor do I mean the judgmental question being asked of the images.
I mean the comment underneath it all.
“When we’re born, we look like our parents. When we die, we look like our decisions.”
Fuck me, that’s good.
So good that it’s changed the way I look at people and aging.
Hell, it’s even given me a fresh way to talk to my clients about their past choices and decisions.
I rarely get that from the observations, declarations or ‘insights’ from my industry.
Of course there are some who are phenomenal, but sadly too many planners aspire to be seen as ‘smart’, without realizing the real value is when you are clever.
Just ask Lucille Ball.
I’m turning 55 this year.
WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?
How the hell did that happen?
The good news is that while I may look it, I don’t act it.
I’m not saying that, I was told it.
By managers of Rock Stars who said, ‘I was immune from maturity’.
And while they probably meant it as an insult, I took it as a compliment. I’m sad like that.
But the reality is, regardless how stupid or annoying I can be – or as young as I sometimes really think I am – I’m still closer to getting a bus pass than I am getting inside a tour bus which may explain why I often look at people and can’t believe how young they are.
Pilots.
Doctors.
Footballers.
Police Officers.
Hell, not that long ago I got on a plane that I swear was being flown by a child.
Seriously, they looked like they weren’t even old enough to fold a paper plane, let alone fly a massive real one.
Which is why recently – while reading about Nottingham Forest in the Evening Post – I saw an ad that has made me question whether it is more evidence I’m an old bastard or actually just another example of marketing bullshit.
It was this.
No, I don’t mean the funeral insurance – which was depressing enough – but the ad next to it.
The one that features an attractive woman who apparently is a ‘single senior’.
Now maybe my eye’s deceive me. Or maybe the woman in this ad is the recipient of South Korea’s finest plastic surgery. But how the fuck is she classified as a senior???
OK, it’s marketing and their track record of shaming women knows no bounds … but come on, when the hell did ‘senior’ become anyone over 30?
Sure, for a 15 year old, 30 is ancient-as-fuck.
And yes, the health industry labels anyone becoming a parent over 35 as ‘geriatric’.
Then there’s Chanel, who classify anything over 40 years of age as ‘vintage’.
But all those examples come from people and industries known for being fucking lunatics.
Whereas I – on the other hand – am not one.
Not really.
Which is why I can categorically state the woman in that photo is absolutely-not a ‘senior’.
Or I hope she isn’t.
Because if that was the case, not only would it mean I’m pre-historic, it would make me think the real reason Otis lives at home is not because he’s a 10 year old little boy, but because he’s actually an adult taking care of his decrepit old man in the last days of life.
Jesus, as Monday’s go, this one has gone especially dark.
So thank you Nottingham Evening Post. Asshole.