Filed under: 2024, 2025, A Bit Of Inspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Authenticity, Colenso, Colleagues, Contribution, Crap Marketing Ideas From History!, Creative Development, Creativity, Culture, Death, Emotion, Empathy, Family, Fatherhood, Home, Jill, Love, Loyalty, Marketing, Martin Weigel, Mum & Dad, My Childhood, My Fatherhood, New Zealand, Nottingham Forest, Otis, Parents, Paul, Paula, Relationships, Resonance, Sport, Strategy, Sunshine
So this is it, the last post of the year.
Can’t believe it.
Looking back on 2024, I have to admit that generally it’s been a really good year for me.
+ The family are happy and healthy.
+ I’m happy and unnervingly healthy.
+ Work has been good and rewarding.
+ My team have been [generally] bloody wonderful, haha.
+ I got to travel a bunch to work with talented people on awesome projects.
+ I experienced stuff I’ve never had the chance to do before, which at my age is epic.
+ I was part of some creativity that’s right up there with some of the best stuff I’ve ever done.
+ This blog – albeit by its ‘questionable standards’ – had some pretty decent posts. Kinda.
+ I got a bunch of new tattoos and a new car – albeit one that was crashed into within a week.
+ Forest stayed in the Premiership and – so far – are doing better than the last 2 seasons.
+ And last but by no means least, the Tories got kicked out of government in the UK.
So, with that list of achievements and experiences, I can say this year, by all accounts, has been a pretty epic year for me.
Now I completely appreciate my privilege in being able to say this when so many are having such a hard time, but I can’t deny it happened … and while I’m obviously grateful for it, I also know it is as much down to luck than any so-called ability I may or may not have.
That said – and in no way am I trying to suggest this ‘balances things out’ – there’s been a few things that have been very challenging for me and my family to deal with this year. Not just in terms of the shit the World is going through right now … but things much closer to home.
The loss of our dear Rosie after 17 amazing years, the break-up of my best friend’s marriage after almost 20 and the horrible, premature death of a dear client placed a huge toll on us/me emotionally and professionally.
And while we know ‘life goes on’, that doesn’t mean they don’t leave scars … scars that I/we are still experiencing and dealing with today.
Each of these tragic events had a very destabilizing effect on me/us … amplified by the fact that in the case of Rosie and Paul/Shelly especially, they were long-term ‘stability pillars’ for us and now they are irrevocably fractured.
I should explain what I mean by ‘stability pillars’ …
Put simply, they were entities we could rely on – or lean on – through good times and bad.
An emotional life-raft, as it were … and given we have chosen to live so far away from so many of the people and places we feel most connected to, it meant we probably had an over-reliance on their involvement in our life.
An over-reliance that we may have taken too much for granted. Thinking it will never change or go away. Naïve maybe.
Now don’t get me wrong, we have friends in NZ and enjoy living here, but it’s different … partly because we’re not from here, partly because we’re still relatively new here and partly because we know we won’t be here forever.
Of course, I get that’s ultimately our choice and decision, but the point is for all the positive things that have happened to us and for us this year – and there’s more than we could have hoped for or maybe even deserve, at least in my case – the impact of those 3 important relationships, have left an indelible mark on the year for us.
Which leads to why this holiday season is so important for me … for us … and most likely for the people involved and affected by the events that have happened.
I cannot tell you how much I’m looking forward to it. Not just because it’s a break, but because it’s a chance to unite, gather, refresh, restore and replenish.
I absolutely get others deserve – and most likely need – it more, but it still is very important and valuable to us too.
Fortunately, not only will we be getting it, but by living in NZ – which, as I wrote here, is the best place in the World to have it – it means we will have the space to truly embrace it and I’ve never been so grateful for it.
Talking of grateful …
This year was only possible because of the people around me.
From my family and friends, through to my colleagues and [some] of my clients, haha.
But it would be remiss of me not to acknowledge the people who read my rubbish on here.
And while I no longer allow comments, I know there’s still a bunch of people out there who do thanks to the data, the emails or the sarcastic texts. [Hello Andy!]
I’ve been writing this for almost 2 decades and in many ways, it has forged the glue of connection that has made our constant moving around the World a bit easier.
A way to never feel too alone. Too isolated. Too new.
That may sound dramatic, but it’s true.
Which is why I want to offer my thanks to each and every one of you for all you have done for me – even if it’s just occasionally read what I write.
I’m grateful for your interest and commentary and hope the holidays will be as good to you, as I hope 2025 is good for all of us.
Just with mine being a little bit better than yours … hey, I’m an only-child, so what do you expect? Haha.
In all honesty, I have some specific plans/hopes for next year. Plans/hopes that could give me a different perspective and experience in my – and my families – life. Whether that happens is anyone’s guess, but I’m quite excited to see if I can pull it off. See what we may discover and experience if it happens, both individually and as a family.
But before that can even happen, it’s time to rest …
So with that, I say ta-ra.
See you on the other side.
For year 19, starting Jan 13, 2025.
Happy holidays everyone. Wherever you are. Whatever you celebrate.
Filed under: Birthday, Dad, Daddyhood, Emotion, Family, Jill, Love, Mum & Dad, Otis
Following the sadness of yesterday, today is pure joy.
I think Lisa would have absolutely loved that.
You see today, my brilliant boy – Otis – reaches a milestone …
He turns 10.
TEN!!!
Even though it seems only a few years ago he came into our life, he’s packed a hell-of-a-lot into his first decade.
Born in China.
Moved to LA.
Touched down in London.
And – it’s safe to say – thrived/thriving in Auckland, New Zealand.
But on top of all that change, he’s also dealt with a whole lot of challenges along the way.
Saying goodbye to his buddies …
Watching his Dad fall apart at the loss of his Mum …
Watching his beloved Rosie leave us …
Watching his Mum have a pretty big operation …
Go through his own operations.
Deal with a global pandemic and all the impact that had in terms of education, isolation and trepidation.
Then there’s been the new schools, new friends and – let’s not forget – the daily challenge of dealing with dysgraphia.
And while there’s definitely been some hard days, he approaches life with a level of kindness, compassion, curiousity, cheekiness and love that takes my breath away.
It’s all his Mum’s work and influence, but still … it’s incredible.
That doesn’t mean he’s naïve to the impact all these challenges have had – and continue to have – on him.
In fact, one of the things I’m proudest of is his emotional intelligence.
His ability to not just identify when he’s having a tough time, but to express it to others.
Of course it’s not easy hearing your kid tell you he’s feeling down, but I don’t take it for granted how fortunate I am that he does and that he feels he can.
It’s why I’m in awe of how his crew of mates are so supportive to each other and any challenge they’re facing or dealing with. That certainly wouldn’t have been the case back in my day – where it would have been used to taunt and tease mercilessly, even if not meant maliciousously – which is another reason why I hold more faith in Otis’ generation to make a positive difference to how we all live, than mine.
As you can probably tell by now, I could not be more proud of being Otis’ Dad.
Not just because he’s a great kid … not just because he’s my kid … but because he has made me a better person than I’d otherwise be.
They’re not empty words, I mean it.
OK, I wasn’t a total nightmare prior to him [I think], but he has definitely inspired me to be a better person.
More calm. More understanding. More compassionate. More open.
I appreciate some of my colleagues may raise their eyebrows in surprise reading this – or they would, if they read my rubbish – but as much as I may be a short-fused, temperamental, call-a-spade-a-fucking-shovel, challenging, confronting, emotional prick … I was a whole lot worse before, haha. That’s why I know if Mum and Dad had got to meet him, they wouldn’t just adore him from tip to toe for being their first grandchild, but because they’d see how he has been able to inspire me to be better in ways they never quite pulled off. [Sorry Mum and Dad]
Now kids ‘growing up so fast’ is nothing new.
But as I’ve written before, the reason parents can handle it is because at every stage of their kids ‘accelerated development’ they get introduced to a new trait they fall in love with … a trait so adorable that it helps them let go of the last trait they thought they could never live without.
Now some of these traits are ‘stereotypically cute’.
A smile.
A sound.
A reaction.
An evolutionary development. Or sometimes, something they just love to do … which in Otis’ case, was sweeping – be it the floors of home, cafes or even Shanghai streets. Which he has DEFINITELY grown out of. Unfortunately, ha.
But as they get older, these traits evolve in more ‘unique’ ways – and yet are still utterly adorable.
For example, right now Otis is in the ‘moments of cringe’ phase of his development. Or should I say, I am igniting that in him.
It could be because of a song I’m listening to … a program I’ve watched … a phrase I’ve said … but the result is him laughing his infectious, cheeky laugh and telling me how cringe that is.
And you know what? I love it and I think he loves it too because in a weird kinda way, it’s a bonding moment between us.
Something that’s ours and no one else.
But I also love it because it reveals his growing independence, evolution and frame of reference and surely, if there is any ‘marker’ for a parent to check if they’re doing their part OK, it’s that?
So to my wonderful, delightful, brilliant son, I say this.
Dear Otis.
Congratulations on hitting double digits – it’s a big moment in anyone’s life.
And while you may feel it’s taken you an age to get here, don’t wish things away too quick.
You’re a brilliant kid.
Not just in who you are, but how you are …
Stubborn on the right things, effervescent in everything else.
That’s about as perfect a combination as anyone could hope for …
It means you don’t spend so much of your time looking forwards you fail to see all you can squeeze out of the present.
The weird, the silly, the wonderful and the ridiculous.
That stuff matters.
Not just for enjoying now, but for getting the most out of the long life of double figures ahead.
So keep doing all you’re doing, because you’re playing it great.
The good, the bad, the happy and the hard.
Dealing with life with honesty and grace.
No arrogance or distain, just consideration and deliberation that belies your years.
A desire to do the right thing, even when you occasionally find yourself having done the wrong.
It’s an honourable way to live and we’re lucky to be witnesses to it.
So keep playing your own rhythm.
Don’t let others try and drown you out with their melodies and noise.
We’re so very proud of who you are and excited to see who you will become.
So enjoy those double digits, but don’t start acting quite like them yet.
There’s a lot for you to leave your mark on today, as well as tomorrow.
Happy birthday, dear Otis.
We love the hell out of you.
Mum and Dad
xxx
Filed under: Australia, Authenticity, Colenso, Colleagues, Comment, Creativity, Culture, Dad, Death, Emotion, Family, Fatherhood, Friendship, HSBC, Love, Loyalty, Management, Relationships, Relevance, Reputation, Resonance, Respect
As you read this, I am in Sydney for the memorial of Lisa – the wonderful client who tragically died recently.
It is believed there will be a lot of people attending.
I mean 4-figure levels of attendees … which is testimony to the impact she made on people.
While I didn’t know her long, we bonded pretty deeply and I saw first hand her ability to connect to people. It was in many ways, her superpower. Not in the sense it was some sort of manipulative trick, but in the sense she saw the good in others and wanted to help them realise it in ways they may not have seen was possible.
But she did it time and time again.
Different people.
Different cities.
Different jobs.
We need more people like that.
People who give rather than just take.
People who share rather than just keep.
People who view success as helping others achieve, not just elevating their own glory.
But what made her truly special was that she didn’t play down to populism, she lived up to a standard.
She wanted to do great, she wanted others to be great and she had the experience and taste to know what both were.
That’s the essential ingredient missing from so many people in the industry – especially the Linkedin guru’s – but she had it in her droves.
I’m still utterly distraught about her passing. We all are.
She didn’t just make the work better, she made you want to be better and as talents go, that’s a pretty amazing one.
Relationships are strange.
You can know some people for decades and not really be impacted by their presence and there’s some you can meet for what seems like a moment in time, and be impacted by them for years. Decades even.
Lisa was in the latter and that’s why, from a purely selfish level, I feel robbed.
Robbed of the time I was going to have with her.
Robbed of the conversations and lessons I’d have learned with her.
Robbed of the possibilities and opportunities I’d have created with her.
I appreciate it feels crass to say this when there are people who have lost so much more with her passing. My intention is not to offend and if I’ve done that, I apologies wholeheartedly. This is just my very clumsy attempt to say that if Lisa could make a relative stranger feel so strongly towards her – as a person and a professional – in just 4 short months, then I cannot imagine the sense of loss the people who knew her … worked with her … and loved her for much longer are feeling.
And to them, I offer my deepest and sincerest condolences.
She may be gone, but my god … she won’t be forgotten.
I’m back tomorrow to celebrate my dear Otis’ 10th birthday.
Death and birth …
A reminder the circle of life is real, even if it feels cruel.
And with that, I say goodbye and thank you to Lisa.
For everything you did and all that you were.
I feel very fortunate to have known you.
Rx
Filed under: Attitude & Aptitude, Daddyhood, Emotion, Family, Jill, Love, Loyalty, My Childhood, Otis, Paula, Rosie, Singapore
As you all know, we recently lost our beloved Rosie.
I bloody loved that cat. Still do.
In many ways, she was my first ‘proper’ pet. We got her in Singapore because Jill – who had always had animals – was desperate to have one again.
We had resisted for a while for a couple of reasons.
1. We were in the early days of our relationship … don’t forget, we moved to Singapore together mere weeks after we met in Australia.
2. We didn’t know how long we’d be in Singapore and so were worried about the challenges of moving and taking the pet with us.
Obviously. we got past both of those as we’ve just celebrated our 17th wedding anniversary and Rosie moved to 7 different countries … but the point is, our little Singaporean street cat went from ‘satisfying Jill’s ‘pet’ need’ [even though she’d always had dogs and so a cat was our compromise – based more on practicality than preference] to igniting my ‘family love’.
I don’t say that lightly …
You see, there was a chance Jill and I may not have been able to have kids and as traumatic as that would have been for us, having Rosie helped me realise there were other ways my desire to be ‘a parent’ could be fulfilled.
Which explains why I was overjoyed when Otis was born and so devastated when Rosie died.
But even though our cat was a small little thing, her presence was huge and so our house – as I wrote previously – feels less alive.
A different sort of energy.
A bit too much space.
A little less noise.
We had talked about getting another cat, but it all felt too soon.
As if we would be disrespecting Rosie.
Made worse by the concern we’d want it to replicate Rosie rather than let its own personality reign.
Add to that Otis’ budgie – Sky – and the realization a new cat wouldn’t show it the same patience Rosie did and it just didn’t seem to make sense to get another cat. For now.
So slowly, the idea of a dog has started to make sense.
It’s not that I don’t love dogs – if truth be told, I was probably a dog person before we had Rosie – but the reality is they’re more work and harder [read: more expensive] to move countries.
And we will be moving countries, probably at least twice in the next few years.
But there has definitely been a 4-legged animal sized space missing in the house and I don’t like that.
And neither does Jill or Otis.
If Jill had her way, she’d fill the house with animals.
Chickens, sheep, horses, dogs, cats … you name it, she’d have it.
And for 10+ years, Paula bloody Bloodworth has been telling/bullying me to get a dog.
But at the end of the day, a pet isn’t about ‘convenience’, it’s about what it adds to the family … and given Otis has dysgraphia and some anxiety issues, a dog would be more than just a member of our family, it could be a special buddy for him.
And I want that for Otis.
I want him to live a life where he feels he is equipped to thrive.
Which is all my way of saying, this …
No, it’s not a dog … but it’s in preparation of a dog.
And as much as you may think I am the sort of idiot who would buy an Audi ‘car seat dog seat’ because I buy shit from Audi … I’ve actually got it because we’re getting a dog.
Deposit paid and everything.
Now it won’t be until early in the new year, but it’s happening and I’ve resigned myself to the consequences.
Because for all the disruption they may cause … for all the walking I’ll have to do … for all the costs they’ll incur … they’ll still give us more than they take and that means its an investment rather than a cost.
Even though it will bloody cost us, haha.
And while one day we may well get a cat to add to the fam, I look forward to our house once again radiating an energy greater than the sum of us as well as be grateful I got healthy over the past year so walking will be a pleasure, not an agony.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Advertising, Attitude & Aptitude, Brands, British, Comment, Communication Strategy, Creative Development, Creativity, Distinction, Family, Fast Food, Innovation, Luxury, Marketing, Marketing Fail, Mum & Dad, My Childhood
When I think of the ads I saw when I was growing up, there are so many for categories I just don’t see – or don’t see much – any more.
Cream Cakes.
Carpet Stores.
Digital Watches.
Stranger Danger Campaigns.
Maybe they’re still happening and I don’t know it because I don’t watch much TV … but given I work in the industry and I don’t hear about them – let alone see them – it does feel they are campaigns of a bygone age.
But of all these category of ads, one that is burned into my mind is Smash.
Smash was a mashed potato brand.
It came in a packet and by adding boiling water and stiring vigourously, you’d get masses of creamy mash.
The original ‘fast food’.
This approach to food prep was space-age technology back in the day … which is why the ads featured alien robots who were so impressed with the technological advancement that Smash represented, they chose not to invade Earth because they felt they couldn’t compete with our innovation, despite the fact the humans they had been secretly watching were – to put it lightly – thick as shit, given their traditional choice for mashing spuds.
I know. I know … sounds bonkers doesn’t it, so have a look at this early ad to see what I mean:
OK, so it was bonkers.
But as you can tell, it was all most definitely tongue in cheek, however – as demonstrated by the fact I am writing about them decades later – the alien robots soon became iconic in British society.
Still are in fact. At least for people of a certain age.
But despite this – and despite being 54 years of age – I’ve never eaten Smash.
Not knowingly, at least.
Not because I don’t like it or don’t like the idea of it … but because my parents never allowed it in the house.
Just to be clear, it wasn’t because they were against such manufactured ‘convenience’ food – we used to eat Angel Delight for fucks sake – but because compared to boiling some spuds and mashing them, it was too expensive.
I say all this because recently I walked past a Prada store and saw this.
Now I am sure they didn’t intend to create the ‘luxury version’ of the Smash alien robots, but they’ve created the luxury version of the Smash alien robots!!!
And while this decision could open a lot of conversations about a lot of different subjects – from the changing definition of luxury, the influence of nostalgia, generational creativity and the overall decline in the quest for originality – the biggest thing it did for me was prove my parents were right in believing SMASH is an expensive indulgence for people who want to short-cut their way to satisfaction rather than earning it.
Or something like that. Probably without the judgement on the character, motivations and aspirations of those who would bung it on their evening meal plate.
Still would give my left arm to eat some.
Which is why Prada would probably be disappointed to learn that their ‘robots’ have made hungrier to eat SMASH mashed potato than to buy and wear their clothes. Or worse … anyone seen wearing a Prada coat can be called a ‘Jacket Potato’.
In terms of branding disasters, that has to be up there with these classic [bull]shitshows.