Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Context, Creativity, Culture, England, Police, Resonance
For all the talk of creativity, what is often not acknowledges is it starts with the brain.
Regardless whether we make art or come up with a lateral solution to a complex problem … creativity is born from the mind.
Sometimes it’s because we have given something a lot of thought.
Sometimes it’s because we actively choose not to fall into logic and tropes.
Sometimes it’s because we see the world differently.
But at the start of everything interesting, is the brain.
I say this because I read something that a UK supermarket is doing to combat shoplifting.
As is the case in many countries, the UK is suffering from a shoplifting epidemic.
While some of this is from organised gangs, petty thieves and bored-to-fuck teens, the economic situation is forcing people who would never have previously stolen anything, turning to crime to feed their family.
Of course, the Tory Government who got the country in this mess are vilifying these people … and while I am not advocating crime, I don’t advocate people living with hunger, desperation and no future either.
That said, it’s got so bad that – as the picture above shows – even blocks of cheese are now being alarmed, so Waitrose, the British Supermarket, have turned to creativity to help solve their problem.
[I should point out given the profits supermarkets make – especially over COVID – I am also not entirely sympathetic to their ‘struggle’, but I do feel for the people who work there and I like this idea, hence this post]
So based on the view that a Police presence reduces the chance of crime, Waitrose are offering all Police Officers on duty, free coffee.
Their hope is that by having Police cars parked outside and Police officers inside, petty thieves will be deterred from trying to steal.
Of course, given the lack of trust – or fear – so many now view the authorities, maybe it will all be in vain … or worse, will ‘gamify’ the shoplifting experience … but it’s certainly a better and cheaper idea than locking up every single food item.
They’re calling this promotion, ‘thanks a latte’.
Terrible name, interesting idea.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Brand, Brand Suicide, England, Reputation
Reputation.
In many ways, it’s all we have.
How we are seen … what we’re associated with … what we are known for.
I get it, it can be scary which is why so many brands probably embrace the beige centre … thinking it’s a safe place, without realising that also informs their reputation.
Mind you, I don’t know if that’s more or less bonkers than those people/brands who either don’t think reputation matters, or believe it can be changed with some PR and flashing of the cash.
Like Elon Musk.
Donald Trump.
Or the British Conservative Party.
Talking of Brits …
England is a nation with a proud – and despicable – history.
And yet there are so many people – and institutions – who only see the good.
OK, so some of that is because if they acknowledge the bad, they may have to acknowledge their role in some of it … but this blind and blinkered support for a nation that [1] has done some terrible shit in its time and [2] is in a horrific current state, is insane.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m no England hater.
In fact, I feel more English than any other nationality despite being half Italian and living all around the World.
But that doesn’t mean I think it’s perfect. That I can dismiss any wrong doing as an act for the greater good. Or from a time where that ‘stuff’ was acceptable.
No … England, like many countries, has done a lot of fucked-up stuff and acknowledging that doesn’t mean you’re a traitor, it means you want the nation to make amends for past deeds so that it can move forwards in ways that will let you – and future generations – be proud for the decisions it makes.
But there are many who refuse to think this way.
Who believe they are better than everyone else.
Who need to believe they are better than anyone else.
But sometimes, something comes along that destroys delusional bubbles so completely … it redefines and changes everything.
Who you are.
How you see yourself.
How others see you and will see you. Forever.
What’s amazing is that often the thing that causes all this can – on first impression – feel small.
Almost incidental or accidental.
But timing and context turns it into a nuclear bomb.
Like that picture at the top of this post.
The shitty cheese sandwich that revealed the ugly truth of Fyre festival …
That eviscerated the [fabricated] reputations of the organisers, forever.
I say this because I recently saw another thing like that cheese sandwich.
It’s not actually a picture … more a few words … but what they say has the same effect.
A truth bomb that doesn’t just change the way you will see the target forever … but changes the narrative around the target forever.
An explosion that destroys all the blinkered thinking and unites all the victims of it.
This is it …
How amazing is that?
It’s so, so, so, so good.
Forget your Effies, your Pulitzers, your Nobel’s … this is a clap out loud moment of reframing magnificence.
Because underpinning those 14 words, is a truth so sharp, it can slice your breath away.
And while it’s cutting to the extreme, the reality is it’s true.
So true in fact, that if Boris Johnson and Jacob Rees-Mogg had a baby, even that bastard love-child would not be able to live in delusion.
What makes it all even better for me is that the person who typed these words has the name ‘Lord Ringo’. As if they’re a member of the families or establishments that helped England become the ‘Independence Day’ superstore for the World.
Amazing.
The common narrative is reputations are hard to build but easy to destroy.
That’s true … but the real issue is when you do shit but pretend you haven’t.
You may think you can front it out.
You may think you can PR your way out of it.
You may even think people will ultimately forget.
But if 14 words can kill the reputation of a country that has spent hundreds of years trying to manage how it’s seen, you’re definitely going to be caught out.
Filed under: Attitude & Aptitude, Bands, Bangkok Shakes, Childhood, Comment, Dad, Education, England, Jill, Mum, Mum & Dad, Music, My Childhood, Nottingham, Parents
So on Sunday, my beloved Dad would have been 85.
Given he died at 60 – and I’m 53 – that means he has been gone for almost half of my life.
And in some ways it feels it.
Memories made up of different moments from the distant past.
But when anniversaries approach … the context changes.
Backgrounds become foregrounds … and despite all the years I’ve had to come to terms with things, they still have the power to take me on an incredibly emotional rollercoaster.
Part of that is because of our history … the other part is because of what I wish I could share and discuss.
He always had questions.
Not for judgement but connection.
OK, mainly for connection – hahaha.
And with so many things having happened in my life since he passed, I can only imagine all the things he’d want to know about.
God I’d love that.
I’d love to watch his eyes as he met my wife, my son …
Saw the life we live, have lived and plan to live.
Feel I’d made him proud.
Because so many of the decisions in my life have been driven by my desire to do just that. To feel my actions and behaviours would be things that made him feel a sense of pride.
Of course I’ve done stuff that would not come anywhere close to gaining that reaction, but in the main I think he would believe I’ve made him proud more times than I’ve disappointed him … but then my Dad, like my Mum, saw their role as encouraging me to always chase fullfilment rather than choose conformity or contentment.
And they did.
Sure, there were some gulps when I told them I didn’t want to go to university …
And when I was going to spend 10 years of savings all in one go on guitar amps …
But once they knew why I was making those decisions, they supported me.
Proper support. Encouragement. Interest. Help.
It was only when I was older that I realised how lucky I was, how this was not ‘normal’ parent behaviour.
So on what would be my Dad’s 85th birthday, I’d like to talk about a story of this encouragement.
I’ve written it before, but – to me – it’s a moment where his [and Mum’s] reaction changed the course of my life in a good way.
I was alright at school.
I was one of the cleverest in the thick bunch and one of the thickest in the clever bunch.
So basically bang in the middle.
But I worked hard. I put in effort. And the teachers knew I really tried.
However when it came to exams, I was a disaster.
Didn’t matter how hard I revised, the moment I was in a situation where I felt ‘everything came down to that moment’… I fell apart. While my parents did all they could to help – including getting me extra lessons – I now realise it was probably driven by anxiety … however in 1986, anxiety didn’t exist so while my school work continued to be good, exams still continued to be a major problem for me.
Nothing highlighted this more than when I was sent to the local careers advisor.
I told them I wanted to be a lawyer or a journalist [more on that in a minute] but the moment they looked at my projected qualifications – despite my solid schoolwork – they said:
“Have you considered a career in catering management”.
Now there is nothing wrong with catering management. I have some friends that work in that industry who love it. But even then I knew absolutely that it wasn’t for me. And at that moment, that careers advisor stamped all over the hopes and dreams I had for the future.
Aged just 16.
Of course I sort-of understand. They said what they saw from the ‘data’ in front of them … however while I appreciate they couldn’t give me any false hope, pointing me in a direction I had no interest in was equally as bad. Despite this all happening 37 years ago, I still remember the lack of interest he showed in understanding me. I was just another kid he was contractually obliged to see. Another kid he had to ‘tick off’ his register.
I left that building in a bit of a daze.
I caught the 45 bus back to Mum and Dad’s.
I remember the day because it was the day Andrew and Fergie got married.
It was sunny. Except in my head and heart.
Frankly I was devastated. I had – in my mind – been told the most I should aspire for was what I imagined at the time, a ‘mediocre’ life.
(I appreciate this would not be necessarily the case, but I was young and at the time, I just had my hopes crushed and so I only saw stuff in black and white)
When I got home, I found Dad in his chair watching the pomp and ceremony.
He loved the history of the Royal Family, but didn’t really love the Royals … so when he saw me, he could tell something was up. I tried to fake it at first. Put on a smile. Not just because I was trying to process what had just happened … but I didn’t want to disappoint him. But my Mum and Dad knew me well and so slowly I let things out.
I remember he listened intently. Taking it all in. And when I got to the point of ‘catering management’ he asked what I thought of that. And I probably cried … because it was absolultely not what I wanted to do.
And despite my family all being incredible lawyers, he asked, “why aren’t you looking at music?”
This was a revelation for a whole host of reasons.
One … the idea of a career in music was so far outside my frame-of-reference that it sounded even more crazy than me saying I wanted to become a lawyer.
Two … while I had been playing the guitar – and done some gigs for a few years – I always assumed my parents saw it as a hobby. Or worse, an educational distraction.
And if that wasn’t amazing enough, then he said something that changed my life.
He told me he loved me.
He told me exam results don’t define the future of me.
He told me a person who only spent 15 minutes with me knows nothing about me.
He told me history was littered with people who achieved more than others said they would.
He told me he wants me to chase what I’m passionate about, not what others want me to be passionate about.
He told me he sees how hard I work and how much I can – and have – achieved because of that hard work.
He told me he and Mum will always do what that can to support me.
He told me he was proud of me.
This is all I needed to hear. Because all I wanted was to be seen. Recognised for my effort and interests not just my school results. Actually that’s wrong, just seen for my exam results.
Of course I knew whatever I did wouldn’t be easy … but I never expected it to be. But here was my Dad – followed by my Mum when she came home from work – telling me he loved me and believed in me, despite what some careers officer thought … and that changed everything.
Within a few years, I got the 3rd highest mark in law across the country.
Within a few years I became a session guitarist for a bunch of 80’s popstars.
Within a few years I was in a band that signed a record deal with Virgin.
Within a few years I started a career in an industry that has helped me experience a life beyond my wildest dreams.
My Dad did that.
My Mum did that.
And in later life … my wife did that.
I’m not saying I didn’t work hard for it … I’m not saying I didn’t have many twists and turns along the way … but they were the reason I was able to go for it.
A belief in me that is probably more than the belief I have in me.
Never blind and blinkered … but also never dismissive or undermining.
What a gift.
What a Dad.
Happy birthday. I love you and miss you so much.
A kiss to you and Mum.
Rx
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Apathy, Attitude & Aptitude, Comment, Complicity, Culture, Daily Fail, Daily Mail, Diversity, Dysgraphia, Education, Empathy, England, Fatherhood, Hope, My Fatherhood, New Zealand, Otis, Perspective, Relevance, Resonance, Respect
OK … so yesterday I said the posts this week were all superficial shite, but that was until I read an article that has pissed me off.
Have a look at this headline:
On one side, it’s from the Daily Mail – so this sort of divisive headline is to be expected – but what made me especially angry is the daughter in question is not ‘rebellious’, she has dysgraphia and dyscalculia … so she finds writing, reading and maths incredibly difficult.
NOT because she isn’t smart or capable, but because she has a neurological condition so she learns in a different way to the one the education system is set up to teach.
To be fair to the school in this article, it sounds they tried to help … but it also sounds they were so stretched that the way they approached it was more about giving them time off school rather than adapting their approach to schooling.
I’ve written about this in the past given Otis has dysgraphia and his school has been active in trying to adapt to help. Even then it’s not been easy – or perfect – but at least Otis knows he’s seen, heard and valued … which is more than the woman in this article probably feels.
Imagine being neurodivergent and having a national newspaper refer to you as rebellious and having your own Mum be OK with that.
Worse, the Mum makes it all about her and ‘her struggles’.
Yes, it can be hard … and yes, it can be stressful … but it’s a fuck-of-a-lot worse for kids going through this sort of thing. They feel stupid. They feel left behind. They feel discarded and useless. So the last thing they need is a parent – and an education system – labelling them rebellious or lazy when what they’re dealing with is neurological. To make matters worse, this neurological challenge doesn’t impact their capacity to learn, just the way they do learn … so they have huge amounts of potential but with too few people wanting to see it, recognise it and liberate it.
This article could have been about the need to relook at how we educate. It could have been about the importance of needs rather than standardisation. It could have been about progress rather than judgement. Instead this ‘newspaper’ decided to write a piece that shows they view compassion and encouragement as weakness and unfairness.
Shame on them.
Shame on the mother for allowing this headline.
Shame on the people who commented negatively without understanding.
You have to be pretty fucking vile to be jealous some kids need special attention from their schools.
It’s not elitism you pricks, it’s dealing with an issue not of their making and helping them stand a chance of having a life that is bigger than the one people like you want for them.
Fuck you. All of you.
You’re welcome.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Comment, England
It’s the first of December.
THE FIRST OF DECEMBER!
How? How the hell are we in the last month of 2023 already?
It seems like yesterday we were spending December locked in our houses – told to not go outside for fear of getting or spreading COVID.
But here we are, ready to welcome 2024.
Madness. Proper, proper madness.
Now I have good news and bad news.
The good news is there won’t be any more posts until Otis’ birthday on Monday 11th.
[Which is a whole other thing as Otis turns 9 and that blows my mind, given it seems only a few years ago since this happened]
No, it’s not a Christmas present, it’s because I’m going to the UK for work and frankly I’ll be too jetlagged to write anything while I’m there. Acknowledging that it would probably make more sense than the stuff I write normally.
The bad news is I have a few more posts in the can before we break up for the holidays.
Including my ‘end of year’ round-up that I know no one reads, but is for me to remember and take stock of all I’ve done this year – which even I admit will feature a bunch of freebie holidays, ha.
I’m pretty excited and anxious to go to the UK.
Excited as I get to pop to Nottingham … I get to catch up with some friends – including Andy and George who I’ve not seen for over a year – and I get to revel in a bit of ‘proper’ Christmas atmosphere, albeit having to endure some of the worst Christmas ads I’ve ever seen. Especially the Sainsbury’s and Asda one’s which are just horrific. [Sorry, to anyone involved who reads this blog, I know there will always be a bunch of reasons why it happened]
Anxious … well, because it involves me having to deal with some stuff that has been tough for me to accept and deal with over the last year. Nothing involving me directly, but something that directly impacts me … among many others.
I know … it feels a bit pathetic for me to even suggest I’ve had some shit to deal with when there’s so many people who have – and are – really suffering. Which is why I don’t forget how fortunate I am … almost as fortunate as you having 10 days without my ranting bollocks.
However before that, we have the 2nd annual Colenso ‘Fuck Off And Pie’ competition to get through.
Last year was a rollercoaster of emotions.
Sadly, my pie – despite looking wonderful – was definitely a low.
It’s the one, higher up in this post.
I know … stunning eh.
Sadly only on the outside.
Anyway, given this year the challenge is to ensure ‘mint’ is a key ingredient, it doesn’t look like anything will change.
On the bright side, maybe my colleagues will have got over their food poisoning by the time I’m back to blog again. Ha.
Have fun, see you soon.