Filed under: Childhood, Daddyhood, Family, Jill, My Fatherhood, Otis, Parents
So I should start by pointing out that the title of this post is misleading.
Because while having a child does interrupt your ability to watch a movie at the cinema … both because they often disrupt it with their questions or actions throughout the movie and because you end up watching films you literally would never choose to go and see – let alone pay for – in a million, billion, trillion years … that’s not what this is about.
No … what this is about is the joy of seeing your kid watch a movie they love in the cinema.
Recently I went to see Despicable Me 4 with Otis.
As kids movies go, it was good. Not SpongeBob good … but good all the same.
[That said, since I wrote this post we went to see Transformers One, and that was brilliant. In fact I’d go as far as to say it was the best ‘prequel’ movie I’d ever seen. Which may say more about my movie tastes than my appreciation of the craft of storytelling]
But as fun as it was, it was not as wonderful as watching Otis be utterly engaged with everything happening in front of him.
It helped he was sitting in seats that moved with the action on the screen so it was an even more immersive experience … but the joy he radiated was more infectious than crack.
So infectious, that I realised I was spending more time watching him watching the movie, than I was watching the movie.
And I loved it.
Every single second.
Not just because I love him, but because it was beautiful to witness someone so captivated with the magic of a movie.
Leaning forward.
Gripping the seat.
Occasionally turning to look at me – or his Mum – to show us his laughter.
Or repeat a line he felt was especially funny that he wanted to ensure we had heard.
Or to have our reassurance when there was a slightly scary moment.
It was a joy and a privilege.
I say a privilege because I know it won’t last. There will be a time where he won’t want to go to the cinema with his parents … and while that will symbolise his growing independence – which is a good thing – it will also remind us of our growing irrelevance.
Well, not irrelevance, but maybe significance.
And while I totally appreciate not everyone wants a child – or can’t – I can tell you that as challenging and painful as witnessing their ‘evolution’ may selfishly be, the joy of seeing them grow while still embracing the wonder of life, is worth it.
Every mindnumbingsecondofwatchingeverymindnumbingfilm of it.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Age, Attitude & Aptitude, Birthday, Daddyhood, Jill, Love, Mum & Dad, My Childhood, My Fatherhood
So the emotional rollercoaster of posts for this week continues.
Yesterday was a hate-fest.
Monday was a love-fest.
And today?
Well, today is a sentimental-fest.
And the reason for that is simple … I turn 54 today.
FIFTYFUCKINGFOUR.
By any evaluation, that’s fucking old – especially for someone working in adland – and yet it’s because of adland that I don’t feel my age, as the photo below demonstrates. Kinda.
OK, so there’s times where I most definitely do – a 1000 years old to be precise – but for the vast majority of the time, advertising keeps me young.
I love being surrounded by talented and creative people of all ages and backgrounds.
I love being around the noise and wildness of culture in all its forms.
I love being exposed to ideas untainted by logic or conformity.
I feel lucky to still be doing this and to still be excited by it …
Now of course part of that is because of the people I work for and work with. Or should I say, how the people I work for and accept who I am and the ‘ways’ I approach stuff. I definitely realise not everyone experiences this, but bar a couple of times in my career [and a couple of written warnings] I have. Hell, Metallica’s management even told me I’d proved it wasn’t just Rockstars who were immune to maturity.
I think they probably meant it as an insult, but I said “thank you” which confuses them to this day, hahaha.
But the reality is, as I sit here turning 54, I increasingly appreciate how lucky I am.
Obviously not just in work, but in pretty much every aspect of my life.
Now, contrary to popular belief, I have – and do – work hard for it, but I also accept the benefits I’ve enjoyed are beyond anything I imagined and likely more than I deserve.
But this is where age plays her ‘karma’ card.
You see the older you get, the more aware you are of the time you have left.
I’m not saying I’m going to die tomorrow – in fact, given I’ve lost 40kg in the last 10 months, I’m probably going to live a lot longer than I was this time last year – however I’ve certainly got less years ahead of me than I’ve lived so far, which means I’m forced to accept there will be limits on what I will be able to do-and-try-and-mess-with in the future.
And that’s where aging sucks … because when you’re someone like me – a curious, emotional, excitable, immature, ambitious-as-all-fuck, only child – you find taking no for an answer almost impossible to accept.
But it gets worse [and I’m not talking about the photo below]
You see on top all this, I’m in this wonderfully ridiculous situation where – despite being in my 50’s – I’ve entered an entirely new phase of my creative journey … one where I’m playing in a completely different world of creative possibilities … one filled with a completely different world of creative talent who all have invited me to play with a completely different world of creative expression in a countlessly different and new ways.
Not just on my own, but with them and for them.
I still pinch myself that this is happening because it’s insane.
Fucking insane. But I absolutely love it.
And what is even more insane, is I work for a company – Colenso – who give me the space to go off and do it over and over again.
Who the fuck does that?
Ignoring that the reason why they probably let me do that is because it gets me out of their hair – it means I get to work with a bunch of brilliant people at Colenso creating stuff very few agencies in the World could ever pull off before travelling to different parts of the world to work with a bunch of brilliant artists on projects that every agency in the world wishes they had a chance to work on … let alone pull off.
Does that sound smug?
Too fucking right it does, but do you blame me??? To have this situation at any age would mean you’re winning, but to have this at my age – where things keep getting more interesting and intriguing – is the sort of good news where you would want to smash that person right in the face.
But you don’t have to worry about that because life is doing it for you.
Because everything I’m doing right now, is opening doors to new things I also want to do.
It’s like I’m on a highway where there are endless side roads that all offer to take me to places where there are other new adventures and creative possibilities and frankly, I want to go down each and every one of them to see where they lead. But the reality is I can’t, because not only do I know each one would have their own side roads of opportunity for me to explore, I’M TOO FUCKING OLD TO BE ABLE TO EXPLORE ALL THE ROADS I’M CURRENTLY ON NOW.
Do you have any fucking idea how painful that is for me?
How frustrating that is for me?
It means I have to prioritize and sacrifice and I absolutely suck at that.
Recently I did a stage set design project for a famous musician. They had me work with a famous Broadway set designer and a famous video director.
It was one of the most thrilling, imaginative, informative, expressive and educational projects of my entire career … making me rethink how I saw creativity connecting and engaging people.
I absolutely, fundamentally loved it.
All of it … and want to explore more of it.
But can I? Not really, because I’m working on a bunch of other things I also find fascinating and I don’t want to miss out experiencing that by losing myself in something else.
Am I being greedy, selfish and a bit of a twat?
100%. This is the epitome of ‘first world problems’, but it’s my birthday today so I’ll whine if I want to and you’ll just have to accept it.
But while I know I’m being a spoilt little brat, it does cause me anxiety. I feel time is running out and I’ve finally been given the keys to the gadget shop. In fact the only thing that helps me get a grip is knowing how happy my parents would be knowing I’m in this position.
Not because they want me frustrated but because it means I’m living what they hoped for me:
A life of fulfilment rather than contentment.
I’ve written lot about this over the years but it basically translates to spending more of your time doing things that fill you up rather than empty you out.
To be honest, I didn’t really understand what it meant until I reached my mid 30’s, but now I realise what a gift they gave me in terms of living and evaluating the choices I had for my life. Because rather than defining success simply as salary, job title, possessions or even comfort … they wanted to make sure I knew it was about valuing and respecting the actions and activities that let you feel you’re growing and evolving.
Yes, I know that sounds flowery-as-fuck, but it’s what they believed and nothing proves this more than how my Dad answered this question from me when I asked him why he changed careers – not jobs – so much in his early years.
His response was:
“I love you and your Mum very much, so I better enjoy what I’m doing because nothing would be so disrespectful to you both than being away doing something I hate”
Can you imagine how amazing that made me feel?
How loved?
And while I know he and Mum weren’t able to always live this attitude – especially when the family were facing challenging times – they both fiercely advocated, protected and supported this way of living my life, even though they also wish I had gone into law rather than – at the time – music, followed by advertising, haha.
Which is why I know my parents would be so happy for how I am feeling at 54.
[Not to mention relieved I have somehow managed to have a career … or whatever it is I have]
And while luck has played a massive part in me being able to choose – and live – what my wife calls, ‘the bigger life’, I would be stupid to ignore the influence of my parents and the industry I work in, for helping let this happen.
In fact, in many ways, what my parents and adland [not to mention Jill and the countless bosses, clients and colleagues] have given me is the greatest gift you could ever receive. Even better than the Raleigh Grifter I got when I was 10 – where I fainted in excitement on seeing it – which previously I regarded as the single best present you could ever get.
So while I appreciate no one is going to be ecstatic that they’re turning 54, I can look back on where I’m at and say “I like where I am” and if there’s anything to feel good about being as ancient as I am today, it’s surely that.
The ultimate privilege in fact … one that I am both fully aware of and that I am very clear on how lucky I am to have it. Especially when there are many people – including friends – who can’t feel that way through absolutely no fucking fault of their own.
So with that in mind, I’ll end this post by saying happy birthday to me. It might all fall apart tomorrow, but if it does – I can say it lasted a hell of a lot longer than anyone expected or predicted. And that definitely includes me.
Filed under: Attitude & Aptitude, Dad, Daddyhood, Death, Emotion, Empathy, Family, Fatherhood, Humanity, Jill, Love, Mum, Mum & Dad, Otis, Parents
A while back, I saw a tweet by the incredible Alison Moyet, quoting CS Lewis.
It was this:
It captivated me. Both for how beautifully it is expressed and how true it is. At least to me.
You see the older I get, the more I realise the phrase ‘everything happens for a reason’ is the perfect encapsulation of how life is.
Whoever we are, wherever we live, we experience a rollercoaster of emotions.
Good, bad, scary, sad … you name it, we go through so many of them each and every day.
In many cases, they’re but a temporary moment in a day full of temporary moments. But occasionally, they can be something that leaves a lasting scar … a scar that transcends all that has gone before and shapes all that comes after.
That doesn’t mean it’s always bad, far from it. But it does mean that it is the start of a period of your life where it creates a lens of how you see and live life.
What is interesting is that while you are living through it – and think you have clarity because of it – the reality is we often only get understanding of why something happened with time.
Not that we realise that at the time, sometimes it can take decades … however even though we may stlil find what occurred unfair or unjust, there is a sense of enlightnment because of it.
The feeling that everything finally and suddenly makes sense.
Of course, that can also trigger disturbance inside you all over again … because you discover the scar you thought had healed, was just hiding … but it does have this amazing affect of revealing something you had not seen.
And that’s why that CS Lewis quote hit me so hard.
Because I went through some of that, especially when my Dad died.
I was full of anger and anguish.
Tears and tantrums.
At a loss for what to do or how we had got to this point … even though Dad’s journey to death was over years, rather than days.
And then a decade later – on the eve of my birthday – something happened where the byproduct of that experience was that I learned the last 10 years of my life had been spent in mourning.
Which had been a byproduct of denying my Dad’s health reality for years.
Not due to stupidity, but a need to survive.
To think it was not going to be the end – even though my wonderful Mum tried to gently get me to acknowledge the reality of his ill-health.
And what she did … and what this enlightnement did … and what my wife and Otis did ultimately led to me being able to better handle the tragedy when Mum died, 16 years later.
I was still devastated.
I still had anger and anguish.
But this time, because I knew why, it let me move forward … so I could focus on her wonderfulness, not get lost in the injustice of her passing.
It’s why I think it is so important to talk about death.
Fuck it, it’s why I think it is so important to talk, fullstop.
Not the mindless shit, but to make time for the personal and important shit … because nothing shows love and generosity than ensuring someone you care about doesn’t lose decades of themselves because of things they wish they knew or things they wish they’d said.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Comment, Dad, Daddyhood, Friendship, Goose Fair, Mum & Dad, My Childhood, Nottingham
Every year in Nottingham, there’s a fair called Goose Fair.
It’s a big deal … the biggest fair in the city and – I think – the oldest in Europe dating back to something like 1284.
It was one of the highlights of my childhood … originally going with my Dad and then graduating to my mates.
There’s a lot of memories associated with Goose Fair.
From winning my first pet – a goldfish – on the hook-a-duck stall to watching Wayne Green try to calm his hysterical frightened-of-heights girlfriend as the machine broke down with them at the very top through to falling down a hill in mud as my Dad tried to lead us on a shortcut back to the car and errrrm, failed.
I still remember us having to find a bathroom to try and clean ourselves up a bit, hahaha.
But there’s also some specific elements that embody Goose Fair to me …
Silly Rides.
Candy Floss.
Mushy Peas and Mint Sauce.
And then there’s fruit machines.
Fruit machines quickly captured my attention. Not just for their lights and sounds, but the thrill of the gamble.
I was introduced to it when my Dad innocently let me put 2p in a machine when I was very young. It was meant to simply be an introduction to one of the thousands of loud, colourful machines dotted around the fair … but then the worst thing that could happen, happened.
I won.
And so began a love affair with gambling.
Or the thrill of the gamble.
To be honest, this didn’t reveal itself until I was older and working in a pub. Suddenly I had access to these machines and quickly established a relationship with them. And while I never had enough money for it to become a problem, it became a problem.
I would quickly put all my pot washing/bar work weeks wages in them.
15 quid.
15 quid spent in a matter of minutes.
15 quid that I could justify because every now and then – and it was every now and then – I’d win more than I put in.
It was there that I realised I had an addictive personality and while it took me a few months to work out this was not good for me, I am extremely grateful I had both the willpower and stubbornness to stop it before it graduated to something far worse.
Same reason I stopped drinking – even though that was because of a night on a boat to Denmark aged 15 where I got so hammered I vowed I’d never do it again [and didn’t] – and why I never started smoking or trying drugs. In short, my natural disposition is to go ‘all in’ on anything I like … hence food took an unhealthy turn and that’s taken me 53 years to finally deal with it. Or at least get a grip on it.
The reason I say this is that last month I found myself at a Motorway service station at 5 in the morning. I’d just bought myself a breakfast and with a pound coin as change, my attention was caught by the flashing lights of the fruit machine.
For some reason I decided to go and check them out.
My god they’d changed from my day.
More expensive, more complicated, more choices.
But I decided to drop my lonely pound coin in one and see what happened.
And what happened is I won.
A lot.
Over 119 pounds … as you can see from the photo at the top of this post.
That’s a better return than bitcoin.
And while it made me happy, what was even more pleasing was I pressed ‘collect’ and walked away.
No desire to keep going.
No temptation to try another machine.
No trigger to find something else to gamble on.
It was a taste of the thrill without it becoming a need for a thrill.
And while I am under no doubt that my addictive personality is still there – lying in wait to fuck me up, even though these days its attention is about feeding my need and desire for wifi enabled gadget shit or guitars, rather than gambling – it was fun to have a taste of the fruit machine thrill, without needing the gluttony.
That said, I won’t take that for granted. I won’t push my luck.
I know for a fact not everyone is so lucky and there’s no reason why I should be.
Which it’s why it’s worth remembering the cause of addiction is not – as certain right wing press likes to promote – always driven by despair, it can also be ignited by success.
However small, however long ago.
So be nice to those who are in the throws of it, especially given so many in our industry and trying to ignite it, albeit under the guise of language like membership and loyalty.
See you tomorrow for more inspiring posts about the many flaws of humans. I’ve got so many this could be another 18 years of posts, ha.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Birkenstocks, Colleagues, Confidence, Culture, Daddyhood, Death, Doctor, Effectiveness, Emotion, Empathy, Family, Fear, Happiness, Health, Jill, Love, Mum & Dad, My Fatherhood, Otis, Perspective, Socks
Back in November of last year, I wrote about how I was eating healthy.
It was quite a big thing for me to talk about – which is weird, given I have absolutely no problem writing about death, unemployment or the size of my best friends appendage, to name but a few of the subjects I’ve waxed lyrical about that many smarter people would rather shut-up than share.
But since then, more things have happened and while I genuinely feel uncomfortable to write it, I am also quite proud of myself, so here we go.
You see what happened was back in August, my doctor asked me to spend 3 months focusing on my health. To try and retrain my habits. To make different choices about my diet. To see what might happen by doing it.
And while I’ve been a helpless – and willing – slave to the seductive powers of pasta and sugar for basically my whole life … I decided this was the time I was going to go all in.
So I did.
65g of carbs a day. 25g of sugar a day. 1700 calories a day.
Every day.
And while it was hard at first, once I knew what I could do – and eat – it was satisfying. Well … more satisfying than I imagined. And that only grew when the results of those first 3 months came in.
I’d lost 22kg.
I’d dropped 4 sizes in clothes.
I saw every one of my health measures hit ‘healthy’.
My doctor called to ask if I was OK as the results were so extreme, he thought either the original results were inaccurate or I was doing a different sort of damage to myself.
[For the record, he was wrong on both counts – I was just in a very intimate relationship with chicken and spinach]
And as good as all that was – and it was very good – the biggest change was that I have started to like myself for the first time in a long time.
Yes, I appreciate that sounds tone deaf and dramatic given there are people who face real challenges and problems, whereas I have an amazing family, a wonderful life and lifestyle and a rewarding and fulfilling job … but it’s true.
In my defence, I didn’t really realise it until I started coming out the other side. Mainly because I think the impact was over time … slowly but surely, bit by bit … until at some point, it found a way to settle permenantly just under my surface.
And while it only popped up to mess with me at certain times and moments – and I suspected what may be behind it all – it is only recently that I was able to confirm my concerns about my health, maybe more than my actual health, was the cause of it.
Or should I say, the concerns about my sub-optimal health.
Just to be clear, what I’m talking about is self-esteem.
God it’s a weird thing.
It’s in your power and yet you’re also powerless to it and I felt I was in its grip.Putting me in a corner that I didn’t think I could get out of so I adapted my ways and choices to try and counteract it, without realising I was just giving it more power over me in more ways.
Which is why as I have got more in control of my health, I have felt a bit of a rebirth.
A bit more confidence about what I can do.
A bit more happiness about who I am.
From the superficial to the deeply, deeply personal.
Part of this is because I’m now wearing smaller sized clothes than I have in literally decades and I’m almost ashamed at how much that has affected me. Of course, it’s also bankrupting me as I have to basically buy new t-shirts that no longer look like I’m wearing a man tent dress … but it has changed more than just the size, but what I choose. Because frankly, more things are now available to me and so I’m experimenting with clothes like I’m a 10 year old kid. Well, I say experimenting, but it really has come down to a few t-shirts in colours that aren’t black and some socks [which is, let’s be honest, already a shock given my Birkenstock obsession] in a range of ridiculous colours. Fuck, I even colour coded my t-shirt and socks once … something never ever done in my life. And – to be honest – never to be done again.
But it is in terms of my family that I am the most indebted.
Because I’ve likely increased the time I’ll be here for my wife and son.
OK, so there wasn’t a identified risk that was going to cut it short … but health is always going to make it last longer and that means everything to me.
Because I love my family.
Love every little thing about them.
Of course they can annoy the fuck out of me, but I am sure I am far worse to them – even though this shocks me as I’m obviously a saint.
But as my son is just 9, I want to be around for as long as I can. I want to see the life he builds, I want to be there for the choices he wants to make. I want to just be in his life and have him in mine for as long as possible. With my wonderful wife by my side. Building new adventures and sharing them. Together.
Now I appreciate that all sounds very Hallmark card … but I do, that’s maybe all I want in some ways … and I’d be denying the truth if I said I hadn’t wondered if this was going to be as possible as I hoped it would be.
And yet … I felt it was an impossible situation to change.
I wanted it.
I knew what could help it.
But I didn’t have the skills or the energy or the willpower. Always having an excuse why I couldn’t dedicate the time and energy to it. Which is mad given I have a fuck-ton of energy and willpower to do a bunch of other stuff … but I had convinced myself that I’d met my match and so that affected me deeply in my head. Loving my family but not knowing how to make sure that love could be around for longer.
I know, it sounds pathetic, but I bet I am not the only one who has faced this psychological prison. And just to be clear, it’s not that I hadn’t tried things to change it. I had. And failed … over and over again. Which not only made me feel a bit more shit about myself, but also convinced myself I was not going to win this battle.
Which is why the pride Otis has in what I’ve done that makes me almost cry with joy. And what breaks my heart is that he obviously had the same worries about how long I’d be around. Not overtly. Not daily. But he tells me how proud he is of me and how happy he is I’m ‘healthy’ … and so while no one knows when the ‘end day’ will come, removing some of the more blatant concerns that it could be sooner than you hope, is a psychological gift in itself.
Now I am not going to say if I can do it, anyone can.
I couldn’t do it for 53 years and you don’t have to be healthy to be happy.
I hate that attitude.
And I was happy … I’m just saying I’m happier now.
With myself.
Of course, that doesn’t mean I don’t have issues – I do, bloody loads of them – but it means I have less than I’ve been carrying, which is nice.
In fact, as of today, I have 30kg less problems I’m carrying – ha.
But let’s not ignore the reality that doing this is really fucking hard – especially at the start – and I needed a Doctor to basically scare me into it and needed to actively choose to not make excuses for not sticking with it. Which is why if anyone resonates with my story and wants to chat about their situation – or what I did to try and get out of it – then just get in touch and I’ll listen and share.
While there is a conscious mental decision to be made, at its heart it’s simply about food choices and portion choices. Oh, and investment … both in time and – sadly – money.
Because it’s a privilege to be able to do this, because – ironically – eating less costs more. Or it does if you want to make it easier.
But the good news is there’s choices that actually are good … and you’re talking to someone who thinks kebab and chips is fine dining. So if you want to know more, I’ll tell you what worked for me and how I did it and then you can decide what’s right for you.
Which leaves me to say a huge thanks to my family, doctor, clients, colleagues and whoever the fuck invented 99% sugar free buffalo sauce … because they made this happen. They made this possible,
And while I may fuck up occasionally, I now know I won’t fuck up every single mealtime and that’s a win in my book, because this journey has taught me things about myself and my habits that have been a revelation.
In fact the only thing I am disappointed about is I’ve still not used the overpriced bloody treadmill I bought. Though I’m glad I got the cool, foldable, wifi and bluetooth enabled one … which means there’s some things about me that will never change.