Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Anniversary, Australia, China, Dad, Death, Family, Jill, Love, Mum, Mum & Dad, My Childhood, My Fatherhood, Otis
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.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Anniversary, Dad, Death, Family, Love, Parents
OK, so we got to the end of the first week of 2026.
Or should I say the 3rd week … but you know what I mean.
Anyway, I started the TWENTIETH year of this blog with a couple of nice posts.
Then I followed it up with a couple of things that were frustrating-the-fuck out of me.
And now I am going to end it with something deeply personal to me.
Today is the 27th anniversary of my dad dying.
That not only means he has been out my life for just under half my life, but in just 5 years – I’ll be the age he was when he died.
As I’ve written before, when I turned 50 I went through a real emotional wobble believing that meant I only had 10 years before I too died … and while I’ve thankfully got past that, it increasingly shocks me how young he was when he passed.
Now I’ve written a lot about how much my Dad meant to me … how much he means to me … so this time I’m going to post something else altogether. Not because I don’t want to celebrate my Dad, but because I think this celebrates him in a way he would both want and respect.
To do that, you need to watch this …
This not only hit me, it made me really think hard.
And I get it and I think my Dad would have loved it.
Don’t get me wrong, I wish my Dad was still alive with all my heart and soul.
I miss him every single day and I hate I haven’t been able to share any of the past 27 years of my life with him.
But while he is still in my life and still relevant in my life, I know he would want me to refer to him as dead rather than ‘passed away’… not just because he wasn’t religious in any way, but because the word ‘death’, honours him and acknowledges him with greater dignity and love than any of the more ambiguous terminology that is often used to soften the reality rather than respect it.
Put simply, ‘passed’ sounds temporary and death represents permanency … and the reason that is so important is – as Labi Siffre so brilliantly articulates – the permanency of death not only justifies, but enables the full expression of grief because ultimately, grief represents the deep love you had for someone and the importance they played in your life.
And my god, did I love him.
So here’s to you Dad.
Dead, missed but absolutely not forgotten.
Filed under: 2025, A Bit Of Inspiration, Advertising, Agency Culture, Ambition, America, Attitude & Aptitude, Auckland, Augustine, Authenticity, Bassot, Blogosphere, Bonnie, Business, Cannes, China, Clients, Colenso, Colleagues, Comment, Community, Context, Creative Development, Creativity, Culture, Death, Doctor, Dolly, Dream Bigger, Education, Emotion, Empathy, End of Year, Experience, Family, Friendship, Happiness, Health, Hope, Human Goodness, Imagination, Jill, London, Love, Loyalty, Luck, Management, Marketing, Marketing Fail, Metallica, Miley, Mischief, Music, New Zealand, Nottingham Forest, OnStrategy, Otis, Paula, Perspective, Planes, Planners, Planning, Presenting, Professionalism, Relationships, Relevance, Reputation, Resonance, Ridiculous, Shanghai, Singapore, Standards, Stories, Strategy, Sydney, Tattoo, Wieden+Kennedy
So I know that I’ve only just got back to writing this blog after being away for my eye-op, but today is going to be the last post of this year. Yes, it’s earlier than it normally is. Yes, I will miss reporting on some stuff like the shitshow that was Fuck Off And Pie ’25 [which happened yesterday and was renamed to ‘Fuck Off And Die’ … because the theme was ‘hot spice’] but there’s 2 main reasons why I’m ending this year’s blog today:
1. My eyesight is still pretty bad so typing takes me a bloody age. [Don’t get excited, this blog will be back when I’m back – which is the 19th Jan – over a month away]
2. It’s Otis’ 11th birthday tomorrow and so the rest of this week is all about him.
That said, this will be a long post … not because it needs to make up the 5 weeks or so this blog will be quiet or because I think people want to read what I’m spouting [let’s be honest, does anyone even read this blog anymore?!], but because it serves as a reminder for me of what I’ve done over the past 300+ days.
The reality is, while this years been dominated by my health, it’s been a generally good year.
Yes, there have been some incredibly hard moments … from the tragic passing of 8 people I knew and cared about – that bizarrely all occurred around the same, short period of time – that still deeply affects me to this day through to the individual I once valued and respected highly, who ended up showing me how fragile trust becomes when someone stops meeting you with the same honesty, then denies it, takes no accountability for it, then runs from it.
But even with all that – and it was pretty shit, made more painful by the fact I was contending with my own health dramatics – I feel very fortunate that I still experienced more high points in 2025 than sad. And given how tough this year has been for so many people, I appreciate how fortunate I am to say that.
And what high points they were …
Getting Bonnie … who has not just added such joy to the family, but has helped Otis in ways we could only dream of.
Watching the family thrive, shine and be happy makes everything worthwhile.
I got some lovely new tattoos.
Finding a brilliant new school for Otis that specialises in kids with his particular contexts and conditions.
Seeing some old friends I’ve not seen for years … topped-off by not just seeing Paula after 2 years away, but speaking with her at Cannes, which was extra-special.
Getting a new car … which I appreciate is as indulgent as hell, but it made me very happy until I had to stop driving it because of my eye. Fucking karma, ha.
My Life Vs Time thing that seemed to touch the nerve of a lot of people all over the place.
Wednesday, September 24th … where I found myself sitting on the steps outside Wieden+Kennedy Shanghai on a very warm night – around midnight – chatting to someone I’d met on that trip that turned into one of the seminal memories and moments of my life, despite the fact all we did was chat for a couple of hours and I’ll never see or talk to that person again. But grateful for that moment.
Talking of Wieden+Kennedy …
I went back to see them after 8 years and not only was it lovely – and surprising – to see some old faces, I got to leave some new stickers all over the place.
Now back to other stuff …
I bought a suit. A good suit. Which surprises me as much as it likely shocks you.
Seeing Ange Postecoglou get fired after 39 days of destruction and arrogance.
Working on some incredible projects for people who are truly wonderful, talented and creative humans.
Being overwhelmed with the kindness and generosity of people and clients in relation to my health and wellbeing … with special thanks and gratitude to Peter, who – on behalf of his clients – organized the surgeon who invented the surgical procedure I was going to have, to be part of the team who took on the drama and trauma of my operation. While we are still waiting to see if it was as successful as we all hope, I know I would not be even in this situation without him, the surgeons, the medical staff, my GP – Stephen Sohn – and the optician at Specsavers in Glenfield Mall … who all contributed to this having a shot of a happy ending.
Hanging out with some of the most famous and talented people in the World. Yep … at various points in the year, I found myself having dinner with a music/fashion superstar, an international model, one of the World’s most famous and iconic humans, a Hollywood screenwriter, the family behind one of the World’s most powerful and desirable Italian luxury brands, some Rock Gods and – on a wild 16 hours in NYC – gatecrashing the birthday party of the wife of one of the music industry’s most famous managers where I spent the evening sat between the wives of 2 different Rockstars who were so welcoming and epic before Taylor Swift entered the restaurant. [Culminating in a gift from one of them which was their way of telling me I was now ‘family’, which still blows my mind]
Having Metallica come to NZ after over a decade away, including a cup of tea at my house for some special guests.
Travelling a lot … including FOUR visits to my beloved China where, on one trip, I got to show some of my Colenso colleagues around for their first time there.
Talking of Colenso ….
We made some properly good work [of which, I’m particularly proud of the Family Roast stuff we did for Medibank for a whole bunch of different reasons and you can see the ad here, and the game here] , launched the brilliant ‘Dream Bigger’ book, won a bunch of international awards [though seeing us not win, we should have, was annoying – ha] and got to host/meet Fergus and his OnStrategy podcast in NZ.
In addition, while it was sad to see Martin and Augustine leave Colenso, I got to see them do great things on their new adventures while also getting to welcome James and Miz – who fitted in like they had been here for years. [Not to mention the wonderfulness of the team at large, who kept me learning, thinking]
As you can see, that’s a lot of good things … more than I probably deserve … but I am grateful for all of them.
Almost as grateful as I am for my son Otis.
Tomorrow, he turns 11. ELEVEN!!!
How the fuck has that happened? And while he has gone through many schools and classes in Shanghai, LA, London, Hundson and Auckland … the fact he is about to end his ‘primary school’ journey seems particularly momentous.
And yet, despite all these changes … and despite his dysgraphia challenges … he has handled it all so brilliantly of which one thing I am very proud of, is his ability to express when it is all getting too much for him.
I appreciate that may sound weird for a parent to be proud of … but I am.
Because if he feels comfortable enough to say when stress and anxiety is beginning to take hold, not only we can help him deal with it – in collaboration with his teachers who have generally been very supportive – it means we have created an environment where he feels safe and seen, and that means the World to us. And hopefully to him too.
He’s such a good kid, surrounded by other good kids.
Cheeky, mischievous, supportive, funny, passionate, compassionate. honorable, curious and independent.
And while they will all be going to different schools in the new year, I am confident they will maintain their friendship. Part of that is because of the way New Zealand works … but part of that is because of the bond they have. One built on more than just proximity, but a real connection based on shared interests, values and energy.
It took me a long time to realise how much energy plays into just how much you connect and relate to people.
Maybe that’s because I’m slow and stupid … but energy matching seems to be the real heart of connection. At least deep connection. And while Otis has met kids who share that with him in every country we’ve lived – most notably, his beloved Elodie in LA – he’s met more in NZ.
Of course, part of that is because he’s older and exposed to more … but for a kid that doesn’t really love the ‘outdoor life’ as is celebrated by all Kiwi’s [which, to be fair, is just like his old man] he’s definitely met his ‘peeps’ here. Maybe that’s why he has said that – while he knows we will leave NZ at some point in the future – he will want to come back and live here. And if that’s not the biggest compliment to the people of NZ, I don’t know what is. Which explains why that as much as my heart belongs to China, my gratitude will forever be with NZ.
So to my dear Otis …
Happy birthday my wonderful son.
I can’t put into words how much I love you but I can say how proud I am to be able to call myself ‘your Dad’.
I hope you have a wonderful day playing Geometry Dash and I can’t wait to celebrate your birthday with you and your friends this weekend.
Big love, hugs and laughs from your Dad, Mum and pooch.
Love you.
Rx
I’ve probably missed stuff to celebrate but this post is already too long so let me end it by saying a big thank you to everyone who has played a part in the good parts of my year as well as those who have popped by to read my rubbish on here.
Without wishing to sound too sentimental, but I am more grateful to you than you may ever know and I hope – whatever you are doing or celebrating – it soothes any pain you are feeling and/or elevates any happiness you’re experiencing.
Just don’t have a better time or better presents than I hopefully will receive over this period – hahaha.
And with that, I’ll see you on the 19th Jan 2026, and here’s to it being a better year than the shitstorm it has been for so many.
Hopefully … with almost 6 weeks of blog freedom, I’m starting it off on a positive.
See you on the other side.
Rx
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Death, Emotion, Empathy, Friendship, Humanity, Life, Love, Loyalty
Got to be honest, I am glad to see the back of September.
There’s been some really good bits, but there’s definitely been a cavalcade of bad.
They say bad news comes in 3’s, well September proved it can come in much bigger numbers than that.
Which leads to the point of this post … and it’s bleak. Especially for a Tuesday. But it’s also real.
You see, the older you get, the more you welcome death into your life.
I’m not talking about celebrities, I mean friends, family members or friends of the family.
Of course, this can happen at any age – after all, I lost my Dad when I was still in my twenties and the posts I wrote following Mum’s death capture the emotional rollercoaster it can trigger in all of us – but growing old does tend to increase the level of loss you feel when learning of someone passing.
I know that sounds counter intuitive given you experience it more, but it’s true. Mainly because you never really get used to it happening.
Sure, the pain and sadness varies depending on who it is and the relationship you had with them, but it always affects you.
Even more so when the people are younger than you.
Over the last couple of months – literally 8 weeks – I’ve learned the sad news that 6 people I knew, had died.
SIX.
Three were ex-colleagues, one was a generous soul who I’d met a number of years ago and 2 were dear friends.
While I got on well with all of them, we weren’t living in each-others pockets beyond the odd note, the odd Instagram comment and the annual ‘birthday’ best wishes.
It wasn’t always like that, but life has a way of impacting availability even if you really try for it not to … which may explains why – bar Billy – I discovered their sad news via social media.
I wish I could say my first reaction was shock, but it wasn’t … it was confusion.
In each case I would read the ‘update’ on social media and then look at attached photo and not understand how these two things were connected.
One representing the worst of life. The other, showing them in the most vibrant expression of it.
And then, when I finally registered the reality of the situation – I found myself just going down a rabbit hole of their life.
Trying to understand what had happened.
Trying to know more about the life they had lived.
Trying to learn about the relationships that mattered most to them.
Trying to make sense of the last days, weeks and months of their life.
Trying to find the last time we had spent a good amount of time together.
Of course none of this changes the tragedy of it all, but in a weird way it helped me feel connected to them while also honouring them.
And I have felt a real need to honour them because they were all amazing people in a whole host of amazing ways.
Much better than I will ever be.
Now I appreciate this may all sound like I’ve gone mad but this approach has really helped me come to terms with their loss and if there’s one thing I’ve learned in the dealings with death – what works for you, is all that matters.
But that doesn’t mean it hasn’t hurt.
Hasn’t left scars.
If truth be told, the impact of their loss – underpinned by the shitshow that is my eye and another friend dealing with the rapid decline of a parent who has been in my life my whole life – has had a pretty devastating effect on me.
It’s made me question a lot of things …
Decisions I’ve made.
Decisions I’ve yet to make.
The things I put my energy into.
The things I am expected to put my energy into.
All the sliding doors moments that I have walked past rather than walked through.
And while that all sounds bleak, the reality is it has served as an important reminder that so much of how we live is focused on what we should do rather than what we want to do.
That does not mean it justifies any act of selfishness … but it does validate embracing the opportunities, possibilities and people who bring you the greatest happiness, pleasure or excitement.
I’ve not always been the best at this.
I’ve allowed life to get in the way of what – or who – energises my life far too often.
I’ve seen people, places and opportunities pass me by that – had I stopped worrying about what I am expected to do – could have had a profound effect on many aspects of who I am and how I live.
That doesn’t mean I am disappointed with what I have and what I have done – far from it – I feel incredibly fortunate to be able to be so bloody blessed in so many ways. But it also doesn’t blanket the fact I’ve let moments, people and possibilities slip through my fingers that I felt at the time were potentially hugely important to me or good for me, because I allowed things I shouldn’t have regarded as more important at the time, be more important.
Maybe out of duty.
Maybe out of routine.
Maybe out of fear for realising what I’d settled for versus what I could have done or had.
A long time ago, a friend of mine told me their approach to life was “live a little bit more stupidly”.
I still really like that.
A little bit more stupid might be the most sensible thing I’ve ever heard.
Which leads to the point of this post …
Life’s short.
Far too short to spend it with pricks, processes and problems that take more from us than add to us … and yet most of us find ourselves doing exactly that in some way. Every single day.
Of course I appreciate it is rarely out of choice, but it happens because life is always happening … but what the results in is us often failing to appreciate what’s passing us by.
Or worse, what’s getting ready to say goodbye.
I think about ‘lasts’ quite a lot.
Last meal.
Last hug.
Last laugh.
Last conversation.
A last and final goodbye.
And while we rarely know when the end is going to come, the one thing we can do to counter it is to be present in the things that make us happy and the lives of those who matter most.
Not just when death is approaching, but when opportunity is screaming.
Which is why I hope this post might inspire someone to make the time to make that call.
To a loved one.
A friend.
A family member.
A colleague.
A significant other.
A significant other, you’ve never shared that with.
A person you’ve let a pointless disagreement become a stranger.
Because if losing one of those people hurts, I can assure you knowing you let them go before they even left is even worse.
Life isn’t perfect.
It can be messy and complicated.
Which is why the connections that matter should be all that matters.
However unlikely, inconvenient or challenging they may be to sustain.
Last thing.
I get this sounds like I’m sad. Well I am. But here’s the thing – so I should be. If I wasn’t, that would be far scarier … so know that I write this because I am good, just frustrated I’ve needed the worst of times to remind me to seize the best of life.
So to September, I say goodbye.
Apart from a couple of special things that happened, you were an asshole, which is why I hereby lay you to rest.
Thank God.
Filed under: Chaos, Colleagues, Cynic, Death, Life, Love, Loyalty, Respect
Earlier this week, I – along with the rest of the cynic mob – received some terribly sad news.
Billy … known as Billy Whizz, and an old cynic colleague and prolific insulter in the early days of this blog … passed away.
He was 45.
He was a brilliant, talented, infectious maniac.
Writer.
Partier.
Trouble maker.
Mischief conductor.
Failed philanderer.
He was the storm that whipped up the best trouble.
And as much as he would do his best to hide his smarts behind his dumbass chic, he never could quite contain it.
Of course not, it was brigher than the sun.
Now 45 is far too young an age but to be fair to him, he used to tell us all he was shocked he was still here when he was 21.
Part of that was because he was always lived like he was driving at 100mph.
Along a narrow road.
On a sheer cliff
At night.
With the lights off.
In the rain.
And while he knew he was being dangeorous – always on the cusp of having a crash – it was also where he was his happiest, the beautiful idiot.
In many ways he was the glue that made the chaos of cynic produce infectious harmony … and while the photo above is not the typical ‘in memory’ pic, I know if anyone would approve of it, it would be Billy.
Taken at the cynic Christmas party in 2003 … it will be forever be known for being the precursor to what we called the infamous ‘vomit bucket’ incident.
He was so proud of causing that, which sums up every part of his manic, foolish brilliance.
I hoped I could be at his funeral in Rome this Saturday, but sadly my eye has put paid to that. I am devastated I will not be able to pay my final respects and say my last goodbyes, but I’m so glad so many of the cynic mob will be there to do it for the rest of us.
Which is why I want to leave this post with this.
Hey Billy. You asshole. Why did you go and die?
Well you have so I need to tell you something.
Some of my best ‘terrible memories’ revolve around you and your wild ways.
I hope that makes you happy and proud. It should, because the best lives have the stupidest stories and you were the author of more than a few of mine.
They say “you only live once but if you do it right, once is all you need”. Well, you definitely did it right … which helps me come to terms with why you left so soon.
I’m so sorry and sad you’ve gone my friend. I’ll think of you in every storm.
Till we meet again … probably in the back alleys of hell.
Love you.