Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Dad, Daddyhood, Death, Emotion, Empathy, England, Family, Fatherhood, Love, Loyalty, Mum, Mum & Dad, My Childhood, My Fatherhood, Nottingham
When I was in Nottingham recently, I walked a lot.
Not simply because that’s what I do these days, but because it had been 18 months since I was last there and I sensed it would be even longer till I’m next there.
I walked around the streets I grew up in, down the roads my friends grew up in … through parks, past shops, along roads I’d only ever driven past when I was older. It was quite an emotional thing and I was left realizing how lucky I was to grow up in West Bridgford.
I never properly understood that.
For me, it was simply where I grew up … but because I’ve now lived in many places, across many countries [and because it was very sunny when I was there – ha] I appreciated what a special place it was. It is.
Of course, a big part of that is how much it has developed over the years – filled with cafes and independent shops, where previously there was just a ‘hot potato’ cafe and a Boots Chemist – but still, it always felt a haven to me. And in many ways it still does.
Not that I have any intention of moving back there. Maybe once I did … but no more.
The place, as much as I like it, is one filled with ghosts and memories – and while there is a lot to be said for that, I don’t know if I would ever be able to look past that if I moved back.
But it will always be important to me … it will always be a part of me … because it holds the house I grew up in. A house filled with love, memories, laughter and pain. A house where my parents ashes are scattered around their beloved garden.
I drove past the house a few times when I was there.
And I looked at it, feeling it was calling out to me.
A lot has changed since I lived there, but it still has the garden planting pot attached to the house that my Dad built and still has the note we left in the garage when we sold it. That last bit was added to the terms of the sale. That they couldn’t remove it for 20 years … which, having visited it 18 months ago, they have thankfully respected.
I loved that house.
I loved that street.
And while everything is the same, everything is different.
Which is why I was so happy when I went to pay a visit to the cemetery where my parents funerals were held.
Neither were religious and neither had their ashes there, but it was obviously a significant place for me – even if associated with deep sadness – which is why I had ensured I honored their life by having plaques made to be placed on display.
One for Dad in a beautiful rose bush.
One for Mum in a bright sunflower bed.
And then, for both of them, this …
A bench in the grounds of the cemetery, looking out onto the gardens.
It was very emotional finding it.
It felt very personal being with it.
A reconnection to my parents, my childhood, my home.
I’d looked for it – and the rose/sunflowers – last time I was there but couldn’t find it.
The cemetery is vast and would take days to walk everywhere, so was sad when I went away empty handed. But this time, I was determined and while I still couldn’t find the flower plaques, I somehow stumbled on the bench and it made me so happy.
Suddenly my parents were in the present. We were all together again.
And given so much has happened since my Dad passed in 1999, it was a moment for me to bring them up to date and introduce them to the life their beloved son has managed to pull-off. I say ‘pull off’, but the fact is, they gave me the lessons and encouragement that helped so much of it happen.
I miss my parents.
I miss West Bridgford.
But what this visit reinforced to me is you can take the boy away from his roots, but you can’t take the roots away from the boy.
And I’m so, so grateful for that fact.
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I have written before that apart from my friend Paul, I owe almost everything in my life to the fact I left the UK and went on an adventure.
Without that, I would not have met my wife … would not have had my son … would not have had my pets … would not be working with rock stars … would not have had all the life experiences and adventures I’ve been fortunate to enjoy and almost certainly would not have the career I currently enjoy.
That’s pretty huge when you think about it and while there’s a whole list of people I need to thank for making it all possible, one of them is an old boss.
Who was a prick.
I had a rather complex relationship with this individual.
Because while they were pompous, petty, condescending and rude, they were also smart, knowledgable and experienced.
On top of that, they gave me a shot on a couple of projects that they probably shouldn’t have. I should point out that wasn’t because they necessarily believed in me – it was more there was no one else to do it – but I appreciated it all the same.
Anyway, when I decided to leave – to go explore opportunities in another country – they were pretty pissed off with me.
While I’d love to say it was because they didn’t want me to go, the reality was they were frustrated I was leaving after they’d agreed to give me a payrise.
That this ‘rise’ was still below market rate and they’d fucked me around for literally 2 years, seemed to have completely slipped their mind … which is maybe why on the day I left, they thought it would be ‘funny’ to write the following comment in my leaving card.
“You’ll be back. Come crawling”.
I remember watching him going around telling people what he had written, laughing hilariously at his own ‘joke’ and while I didn’t take it too much to heart – because everyone knew he was a bit of a prick – it still hurt.
Little did I know then, how those 5 little words would play such an pivotal role in how my career would turn out.
You see, when I ended up in this other country, I initially found it very difficult.
Not just because I didn’t have friends, contacts or a job … but because my Dad was very ill back in the UK.
In all honesty, the temptation to go back was huge but there were 2 reasons I stuck it out.
1. I wanted to show my gratitude to my parents for supporting and encouraging me to go, despite them going through a terribly tough time because of my Dad’s major stroke.
2. Those 5 little words.
While I’d like to think the former was the biggest motivator, I fear it may have been the latter.
That’s pretty pathetic isn’t it … especially as I could have gone back without having to go back to that old job.
But I wasn’t going to let him have the satisfaction directly or indirectly.
And so I persevered.
Pushed, prodded, walked the streets, did shitty, temporary roles … anything that kept me from gaving to go back with my tail betweeen my legs.
And it everntually worked out.
Not because of any talent I did or did not have, but because of my perseverence.
And willingness to take any bullshit salary … hahaha.
But for me, getting a break was my main objective … because while I knew I was not the smartest strategst, I knew my work ethic meant I could out-work most.
Now don’t get me wrong, I appreciate that is a toxic trait – but it is my trait – and back then, it was a way for me to prove my worth to agencies/clients who didn’t have to give me a chance or keep me on board.
Of course, over the years, my motivation for continuing to explore the possibilities of the World and my career have evolved.
These days it is far more about wanting to feel I’d be making my parents proud than it is me reacting to 5 little words from a toxic, little manager.
But I also have to acknowledge that without that persons toxic motivation, it is unlikely I would be in the situtation I currently enjoy.
So thank you AC … you were a strange little man, but for all the fucked up shit you did – and there was plenty – you did one thing right, even if it was wrong.
And while I doubt you even remember me – let alone care what I’ve done – it doesn’t matter.
Because I didn’t come back and didn’t come crawling and so for that, I won, so there.
It’s Easter long-weekend that then leads into a big week for me/Colenso – from us hosting Fergus and his OnStrategy podcast to me saying goodbye [for the second time] to someone who is very special to me … so have a great weekend, overeat Chocolate and Hot Cross Buns and I’ll see you Tuesday.
Till then, this is for you AC.
With thanks.
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: 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, Dad, Emotion, Family, Fatherhood, Love, My Childhood, Paul
A few weeks ago, I wrote a post about my Dad on what would have been his 86th birthday.
Paul – my best – saw it and wrote this to me:
“I know a boy who’s 10 feet tall, sleeps in the kitchen with his head in the hall”.
Now you may think, reading that, Paul has lost his marbles – and I get why – but what Paul had actually done was give me a gift.
You see that silly, little poem was something my Dad used to say all the time.
ALL. THE. TIME.
And yet despite this, I’d forgotten it.
I don’t know why.
I don’t know how.
But I had … and that’s why when I heard it again, it felt like I was running into his arms again.
Getting a big hug. A squeeze. A massive kiss on my ‘bonce’, as he would say.
Dad was forever coming up with these little silly rhymes, poems and songs.
Another I remember was his ‘ghost story’.
I can’t remember it exactly, but it went something like this:
The moon is a ghostly galleon.
Tossed upon stormy seas.
He knocked upon the door a second time.
“Is anyone there?” he said.
But all was still and silent, for everyone was dead’.
I have no idea where it came from … or why … but rather than be scared shitless by it, we used to say it all the time. Especially around Halloween.
It became a special, private poem that connected and united us in the most daft of ways.
Now I admit it’s not that long ago that I’d be devastated that these things – fundamental moments of my childhood – had escaped my memory.
But now I’m good with it … because not only do I get to experience them all over again – where they flood my mind with wonderful feelings and memories – but I get to discover the impact they had on others.
Which is why I’m so grateful to Paul – and my cousin Neil – for being so impacted by some of the things my Dad did, even though they were a byproduct of who he was.
Dad was a brilliant man.
Kind, compassionate, loving, smart and silly.
He cared … he was interested, and he was interesting.
Death is obviously utterly, fucking shit … but it’s funny how those little interactions you could write off as a childish or silly quirk of a meaningful relationship end up being some of the things you emotionally connect to the most.
The incidental things that you discover have become everything.
And while I never actually knew a boy who was 10 feet tall and slept in the kitchen with his head in the hall … I am so grateful he existed in my Dads head.
Who now lives in my heart.