The Musings Of An Opinionated Sod [Help Me Grow!]


In The Quest To Be Fast, We Make The Chance Of Real Change, Very Slow ….

I was talking to someone recently about town planning – don’t ask – and mentioned a story I’d heard about a Chinese architect.

Apparently a local Shanghai government council had reached out to him asking to help design a new area of their district. As part of their briefing, they’d said they wanted it to look and feel like parts of New York. This architect went on to explain that it wasn’t possible because what had really impacted how NYC was designed, was time.

I would link to the article because I wrote a post about it years ago, but can I find it? Can I hell.

Anyway, this got me thinking about creativity and how – with the pressure to PROVE our work is effective in the shortest amount of time possible or face the risk of the client firing us – we may be stopping our ideas from ever fulfilling their full potential.

Or the clients are.

Now I appreciate we live in competitive times.

I also appreciate there needs to see signs of positive impact and/or change along the way, rather than just have blind faith.

But we also need to acknowledge that some ideas take time to find their time. Or audience.

History is littered with examples of this but they didn’t happen because someone forced it, it’s because there needed to be the conditions for it.

The point being, that I am fed up of the narrative that ad agencies don’t care about effectiveness. Almost as fed up as I am that consultancies like McKinsey, Bain and Deloittes are the masters of it. Putting aside their whole business model is founded on telling companies what to do rather than take any responsibility for fixing any of it – we need the clients to be part of the solution. To commit in terms of attitude, conditions and time.

The quest for quick wins is increasingly resulting in us getting exactly that. A quick win … not a long, lasting and sustainable win.

Because we’re so focused on speed, we fail to value the need and impact of time.

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Nothing Say’s Love Like A Permanent Scar …

I got my first tattoo when I was 42.

I was holidaying in LA, saw a tattoo shop and – after some encouragement from my friend Paul – went in and had a big one on the underside of my arm.

Hey, nothing like jumping all in eh.

But from that moment, the tattoo became something very important to me.

To be honest, I’d always wanted one but chickened out because of the fear of pain – but not only did it not hurt at all [in fact I fall asleep when I have them] I discovered it the ultimate way to express my sentimentality towards people, dates and things that held a very significant place in my life.

Since that day way back in 2012, I’ve had loads of tattoos.

Birthdays.
Postcodes.
Phone numbers.
Signatures.
Names, pictures and paws of pets.
Honoring Mum, Dad, Jill, Otis and China.
Personal philosophies and heroes.
Nottingham Forest and Queen.
Some weird shit for some friends.
And nods to LA, UK, NZ and Italy.

There’s not one that I regret because each and every one of them is there for a reason.

No ‘moments of stupidity’.
No ‘this would be good for a laugh’.
No ‘tribal or badly translated rubbish’.

Each tattoo represents something deeply important and significant to me – even if to the causal observer, it may look like I have a bunch of random and weird stuff across my arms.

I say all this because recently, Otis asked if I had any tattoos for him, to which I proudly pointed to the one of his name and his date of birth.

And while he seemed moderately pleased with this, it apparently wasn’t enough because he asked if he could design one … a tattoo that captured who he was and what he believed. And I stupidly said ‘yes’, which is why I am currently in negotiations with him to decide which of these will be inked upon my body in the next few weeks.

For the record, the reason the potential designs are all in type is because I don’t have any room on my arms for a picture and he wants to ensure it is something that can be – and will be – seen at all times, haha.

Now before you think I’m blindly pandering to my son’s whims and wants … he genuinely loves rice. In fact he has it every night for dinner which he claims is because he was born in China … so while his tastes may well change or evolve over time, ‘Rice Is Life’ does capture who he is and what he believes, which means – for me – it ticks all the criteria boxes needed to go out and make it a permanent symbol on my body.

The ad industry could learn from kids for their powers of persuasion.

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In Blog Years, We Are Officially 10487492367 Years Old On Sunday.
May 1, 2026, 5:15 am
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Yes, it’s Friday.

And yes, it’s the first of May.

But neither of those things are as incredible as this …

You see, on Sunday, it will be 20 years since I started this blog.

TWENTY BLOODY YEARS!

That’s before the iPhone.
And Android.
And Facebook.
And the Kindle.
And the financial crisis.
And before Pluto lost its planet creds.
AND BEFORE WI-FI WAS PUBLICLY AVAILABLE … so a very long time ago.

I still remember why I started it …

It wasn’t for any attempt for notoriety or popularity, it was more to do with survival.

You see I’d got a job that – frankly – I was woefully under-qualified for, and because it demanded so much of my time and energy to make sure I didn’t completely fuck it up, I needed an outlet for all the ideas and thoughts that were going around my head that I just didn’t feel were right for what I needed to do at that time.

Not because I was sure I was going to use them later … more because I needed to feel I was still connected to the stuff I loved while also believing that if I didn’t find a way to get them out of my head, they’d maybe be no more space left for anything new to enter my head.

And so this blog was born.

Reading through the first few posts not only reveals the times we were living in, but also the headspace I was in.

Trying to balance making sense of stuff happening around me while also needing an outlet for stuff I was feeling or thinking … which, in many ways, set the tone for how this blog has been for over 2 decades.

Which George recently described as, “the blog version of TK Maxx”.

He’s not wrong … and in some ways, I really like that.

Sure, among the almost 5000 posts I’ve written, there’s a lot of [to keep the TK Maxx analogy going] cheap and nasty shit in there … but there’s also a few ‘designer label’ gems hidden amongst it all.

At least for me.

Stuff that made me think, challenge or question stuff in ways that I had not imagined or considered before.

Stuff that ended up impacting how I did things and how I still do things.

Stuff that forced me to articulate what I believe, not just what I feel.

Maybe those posts meant nothing to anyone but me. Hell, maybe no one even read them. But while every post I’ve written reflects something about who I was – or am – those ‘self-defined gems’ have a special place in my heart because they represent a moment where I felt I was growing and learning.

It’s why I always enjoyed the comment section, because for all the overwhelming piss-taking I received, the vast majority always ‘encouraged’ me to look deeper, wider or longer at issues I’d written about. And I loved that. I loved how the people who commented always kept me on my toes … which is why one of the unexpected pleasures of writing this blog for so long has been seeing how my opinion on certain subjects has changed or evolved over the years. It’s served as a great reminder about the importance of always exposing yourself to others perspectives, opinions, experiences and standards, even if the goal of it is simply to be really sure about what you think or believe.

In many ways, that’s the biggest surprise of 20 years writing this blog.

I never expected anyone to comment on anything I wrote, because I started it just for me.

A private place to express my thoughts and idiocy.

But then Andy discovered it and he sent an email to everyone at Cynic and some of our clients announcing it and then the mayhem started.

At that point, blogging had become a big thing. A good thing. A community of people who wanted to help and contribute to what others were doing. A lot of this was down to the great Russell Davies and his iconic blog … a place that not only brought people from all over the world together, but inspired others to start writing their own as well.

It was a place that not only exposed me to a lot of brilliant people I’d never have known about without his blog – people like Gareth Kay, Paul Colman, Northern Planner, Rob Mortimer, Marcus, John Dodds, Lauren, Age to name but a few – it also brought people to my blog who helped add to the texture, lessons and perspectives I was writing about.

I will forever be grateful to Russell for that … especially as most of the people he inadvertently introduced me to, not only still exist in my life but I have met them all IN THE FLESH.

Alas the blogging community, like most things in life, has moved on with maybe only Martin and I still churning stuff out via that platform. [Well, he curates, I churn] And while technologies advances allows strategists to be even more connected in even more ways, the energy of the community is not the same as it was back in the early days of blogging.

Now it feels more aggressive.

More sharp elbows and self publicizing.

Wanting the spotlight on them rather than the work they do.

But then, the industry seems to value those who talk about the work more than those who actually make it … which kind-of highlights why the industry is in the state it finds itself in but refuses to acknowledge.

Emperor’s New Clothes anyone?!

Screenshot

That this blog is 20 years old blows my mind. I never thought it would last that long, mainly because I never gave much thought about how long I’d be writing the thing. It’s not always been fun – when I was receiving a lot of anonymous hate that resulted in me deciding to stop allowing comments was definitely a low point – but all in all, the whole experience has been pretty glorious.

In many ways, this is one of the longest committed relationships I’ve ever had.

And one of the most successful, hahaha.

The fact there are some people who have been reading it for almost as long as I have been writing it, is madness.

Have they no taste?
Have they got nothing better to do?
Or maybe they’re stuck in prison and this is part of their ‘sentence’.

The good news for them is there’s no way this will still be a ‘going concern’ in another 20 years … at least not in terms of how regular I’ve been writing posts for the past 2 decades. Not because I am running out of things to say [albeit Andy said I have only ever written 3 posts and just keep re-writing them in different ways] but because I’ll be – hopefully – doing other things with my life.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ll always be grateful to advertising … it has given me a life I never could have dared to imagine … but I am increasingly spending more and more of my time working and collaborating with artists and I feel that’s where my future may be. Not because I don’t love what I do, but because I find their definition and expression of creativity even more interesting, challenging, open, provocative and progressive than where our industry is choosing to head.

But that’s not going to happen yet. Hell, it may not happen at all – I could get fired by all the artists tomorrow for all I know – which is why for the time being, I’ll keep happily juggling my two ‘lives’ while churning out daily blog posts at the same time.

Sorry, hahaha.

That said, the point of continuing this blog is different to what you may think and why I originally started it.

Because while it has helped me grow, learn, make new friends and even help build my professional reputation [which is hilarious when you read some of the stuff I’ve churned out, like this!] … it delivers something that is even more important to me.

Connection to my family.

I know … I know … that sounds weird-as-fuck, but what I mean is this:

A few years ago, Jill said that while she rarely ever reads my blog, when she does – she can hear my voice because of the way I write.

Put simply, how I write is how I talk … so when she reads my posts, it feels like I’m with her.

And she liked that.

Add to this that I’ve shared deeply personal and important moments in my life – from getting engaged to getting married, to Mum dying, to becoming a Dad, to getting Rosie – and Bonnie – to saying a tearful goodbye to Rosie, to moving from Singapore to HK to China to America to London to New Zealand [so far] … which means moving from cynic/WPP to Sunshine to Wieden+Kennedy to Deutsch to R/GA to Colenso [not to mention all the other highs and lows that have impacted or been introduced to my life over this period, be it death, covid, friends, family, health, books, chaos, and/or multitudes of weird, wild, crazy shit] … and this blog is no longer just a place where I rant rubbish, it’s a place my family can have me close even when I’m no longer here.

That means a lot to me.

Not because I want them to need me, but because I like knowing they can access me should they ever need me.

Or if Otis ever wants to introduce me to whoever becomes important in his life.

It’s why I’m going to keep writing it and why I’m going to move it to a free domain again, to make sure it always stay up … because what originally was a place just for me, has become a place that offers connection to the most important people to me.

And with that, I want to say a big thank you to everyone who has ever visited or commented.

Whether you meant it or not, you’ve given me far more than I ever imagined or hoped for.

Thank you. Love you. Grateful for you.

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When The Present Refuses To Surrender To The Past …

I think my Mum would be strangely happy that I almost forgot to write this post today.

And I did … only realizing last weekend today was the 11th anniversary of my Mum dying.

It’s not even the first time this has happened …

So how come I nearly forgot today – one of the worst days of my entire life – and why do I think Mum be happy about it?

Well, let’s do the practical reasons first …

I write this blog weeks in advance and so sometimes I don’t even think about the date they will appear, I just load them up to be automatically put out. That said, I’ve never nearly forgotten when it is Dad’s anniversary … however that’s a bit different to Mum’s in so much as he died in mid-January and so that tends to be one of the first posts I write every year, coming out the festive holiday season.

But that’s more of an assumptive rationale …

The fact is both my parents blessed me with an amazing childhood and upbringing. I’ve written so much about them over the years – from their endless encouragement to their demonstration of what love really means – and the loss of them was, without doubt, the hardest and biggest challenges I’ve ever had to face and deal with in my life.

But Dad died first – 16 years before Mum – and while I’d experienced the death of people close to me before, that was the one that was the most direct in terms of impact, importance and shock. It meant it took me years before I could think of Dad as the Dad I grew up with … rather than the person he became after his stroke robbed him of who he was and how he was.

But Dad’s passing opened up the ability for Mum and I to talk about death … and we did. A lot.

Not in an ‘impending doom’ kind-of-way … more in terms of the reality of what we’d faced and had to accept and learn.

It meant this was very much top of mind when Mum was going in for her operation. Maybe not spoken about openly, but definitely something that was in eachother’s minds. In fact, it was only after Mum had died – when the operation to extend her life, sadly failed due to a childhood issue that had gone undiagnosed – that I discovered just how much Mum had been thinking about it.

That she had written me ‘notes’ in case the worst happened – featuring information I’d need to make organizing her estate easier – is still one of the most powerful demonstrations of unconditional love I’ve ever seen. Though it still breaks my heart how she must have felt writing them – knowing that she was having to face her own mortality, on her own, while I was on the other side of the planet.

That said – as I wrote the morning she died – we’d found a lovely rhythm in the final few years.

We’d always had a wonderful relationship but there was a period where a few niggles had entered our interactions … nothing much, just a little tension caused by me wanting to take care of her and her wanting to fiercely protect her independence and have me look after myself and my future more. But we’d got past that by realizing both us were coming from a place of love … so we made allowances for each others needs, which meant she let me put money in her bank account every month and I didn’t mind that she never spent a penny of it. Haha.

And while the days leading up to her death will be forever burned in my mind, my memory of Mum has never been stuck in that period, like it was for Dad for all those years. I don’t know why but I’m grateful for it.

Maybe it’s because I became better equipped emotionally after Dad died?
Maybe it’s because Otis was born 3 months before Mum passed and so that period was consumed with happy thoughts throughout that time?
Or maybe it’s because I’d seen Mum a lot before she died – every month for 6 months or so – and so saw the impact of her heart condition on her health – meaning it was less of a surprise to me, even though I thought the operation was going to make things better?

Who knows … but while today will always be significant in my mind, it’s not the main thing that immediately comes to mind. Instead I think of the conversations we had when I came to visit … the pasta she would lovingly make for me … the look of happy surprise on her face when I turned up unannounced from Australia … the tennis she’d play with me on the patio in the back garden in summer when I was a small kid … the joy on her face when she learned she was going to be a Grandma … the stories she would tell me of the films or comedians or concerts she’d gone to see … the quiet contentment we felt when we were in the same room together, even if nothing was being said.

I think of those things WELL before anything to do with her dying.

I think of her grace, her kindness, her love, her curiosity, and her compassion.

I think of how much I wish she could see the grandson she never met, but adored.

I think of how she will never know I lived in America and back in England and now NZ.

I think of how she would react to Bonnie. [And the news of Rosie]

I think of how she would react to ‘healthy me’.

I think of how lucky I was – and am – to be able to call her my Mum.

And that’s why, I am sure Mum would be happy that I almost forgot to write this post …

Because it means her memory is alive and present in my life and that means she achieved what she hoped for most in her life.

That she was a good Mum.

And she was. And still is.

I miss you Mum. I hope you’re with Dad, holding hands.

I love you.

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Making Extra Dough Out Of Bread: The Commercial Value Of Repurposing And Making Old, New Again …

Isn’t it funny we talk so much about the environment, and yet we are producing more stuff that fucks the world than ever before?

That said, while companies aren’t great at living up to what they state – humans tend to be far better.

One of which has been our ability to find ways to make food last longer than intended.

Whether that’s been creating mustard to disguise the taste of potentially ‘off’ ingredients through to making stale bread into bread and butter pudding, we’ve always found ways to stretch things out.

Of course, the ultimate nation for food maximization is China.

Now, part of that is because during the Great Leap Forward, people were starved/starving and so were forced to eat anything they could to survive. However, while that time is well gone, the attitude of ‘waste not, want not’ has remained which is why there’s so many recipes across the region that utilize a nose to tail philosophy.

Literally.

I say this because I recently saw Marks & Spencer’s [M&S] in the UK be a bit smart with their sourdough bread.

It’s this.

Good eh?

Rather than chuck the bread out as it starts to go stale … shove loads of garlic butter in them, place them in a fridge and flog them as mouthwatering garlic bread you just have to heat-up before shoving down your throat.

OK, they could have given it to the needy rather than find another way to take every last penny from their customers, but it’s still devastatingly simple. And smart.

They’ve also launched a range of ‘minimal ingredient’ food … which is clever for a whole host of reasons. The first being the increased awareness and desire for preservative free food. The second being it goes off faster, so there’s a good chance people will end up having to buy more when their best intentions to eat it gets scuppered with life etc. Given it is probably even more expensive than the preservative counterpart – I know, paying a premium for less, classic capitalism – and everyone can kinda win with this.

To be fair, I’ve always been quite impressed how supermarkets innovate – they’ve done far more and in more ways than most organisations – but while ‘pre-packaged’ garlic bread is not a new thing [though garlic sourdough loaves is a whole other level] … as is finding new ways to extend old/ugly food … it’s still a perfect example of creative thinking.

It’s also a lesson to the ad industry on how to sell creative thinking.

Because for all the systems, processes, charts and models we love to bang on about, the key seems to be much simpler.

Solve a real problem. [Opportunity]
Show why people will really pay for your solution. [Benefit]
Make it easy-as-fuck for them to buy [Action]
[including what they have to do at their end to make it happen]

I say this, but I bet there’s still strategists and agencies out there who would still write a 305 page deck to explain this idea …

As I have said before, if the solution feels more complicated than the problem, why the fuck do we expect anyone to do it?

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