Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Childhood, Children, Dad, Daddyhood, Family, Jill, Love, Mum, Mum & Dad, My Childhood, Otis
Recently I heard an interview with the Led Zeppelin singer, Robert Plant.
Of course, Led Zeppelin is a long time off – but as I wrote here – his and the bands place in musical history is cemented.
Anyway, in this interview he talked about his kids – and his grandkids – and it got me thinking.
Despite the fact he is 77 years old, I never imagined him as a grandfather. To be honest I’d probably not thought of him as a father either. But of course he is, which made me wonder what it must be like for his family.
I am sure they just see him as ‘dad’ or ‘granddad’ … but even then, they must know he holds a huge place in millions of people’s hearts and minds.
But more than that – as he talked about going on small tours for the sheer fact he loved playing live – I wondered what his family thought of it.
Is it weird?
How do they connect the family member with the man on stage?
Do they see it as a family member doing their hobby or still holding court as a legend of music?
Having spoken to a friend – who photographed and interviewed Rockstars and their kids – I suspect, depending on their age, they find it amusing, confusing and wonderful. Something they know their family member has always done, but is about as far from their world as they could get.
But that’s not the point of the post, it was the fact they would always be able to hear him and see him even when he’s past.
Whether at his Rock God peak or in his older age, he would always be present.
Not just emotionally … but visually and sonically.
And while I appreciate that could have moments where it is hard, I would imagine it would also be reassuring.
I don’t have that with my Mum and Dad. In fact – apart from photographs – all I have is one short message my parents sent me on voicemail on a birthday.
Dad had had his stroke by then and Mum was trying to help him get the words out to send me best wishes. It’s both beautiful and heartbreaking and I know they’d love me to have had other things to wrap myself up in.
Which is why this blog is important to me.
Because for all the rubbish it spouts, it is me.
My voice. My thoughts. My conflictions. My beliefs … even when they change over the years.
But it’s not enough.
And while I’ve been ending all my talks with an image of my son … I want to do more. I want to make sure that when I’m gone, he has the choice to hear more of his old man. Not because of what I say, but more for him to know how deeply I love him and how proud I am of him.
Hopefully, he knows that already but I’ll never be able to express just how much he means to me … which is why I’ve decided to do the Temu version of Robert Plant in so much as from now on, if I am invited to talk at presentations or anything in the public domain … I’m going to make sure part of that is me saying what he means to me. Not for any performative stance … but just because should he ever be in a situation where he needs to hear his old man’s voice or to be reminded what he means to me, all he has to do is turn to the internet.
He may not want to, and that’s cool.
But – as I know my parents would have wished for me – he could if he wants to.
And sometimes, that’s all you need to feel a bit more peace about knowing you won’t always be there for them.
I say this as both a warning and an invitation to anyone who wants me to come speak at their conference/podcast or seminar, haha.
Filed under: 2026, A Bit Of Inspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Children, Complicity, Culture, Daddyhood, Dance, Emotion, Empathy, Experience, Family, Fatherhood, Generosity, Happiness, Love, Loyalty, Mum, Mum & Dad, My Fatherhood, Otis, Parents, Respect
A few years ago, I wrote about how some people think they have the right to judge your kid.
And your parenting.
I also noted how I’d been suckered into validating their commentary.
Until I came to my senses.
The story is Otis was – and still is – an energetic kid.
When we lived in Shanghai, LA and London, we would go out a lot and he would be a whirlwind of excited, happy energy.
It was – admitedly – relentless.
Whether 3pm or 3am, he seemed to always want to play, smile, laugh, do things with his adoring parents.
Often, when we were out, we would see people looking at him running around the park, shouting to himself … and then saying to me, “he’s got a lot of energy hasn’t he?”
And while they weren’t saying it as a diss, they weren’t saying it as a compliment either.
What makes it worse is I would reply with a weary, “you better believe it”.
Then one day I realised what I was doing.
My son … my wonderful, brilliant, joyous son was being judged by his Dad.
Worse, he did it to let perfect strangers feel justified in their fucked-up judgement.
What the hell?!
Otis wasn’t doing anything wrong … plus he was 2 or 3 years old for fucks sake.
More than that, he has always had a very strong sense of justice and fairness and so the last thing he would ever want to do is cause others discomfort.
And he wasn’t, he was just running around … exploering and experiencing the World.
I felt an immense amount of anger – more at myself, but definitely at the ‘critics’ as well – and vowed that would never happen again.
And it didn’t and it doesn’t.
Because when anyone said/say’s that to me about Otis, I now reply … “I know, isn’t it great”, and they always look at me before slowly nodding, either because they feel they have to or because they realise the problem isn’t my kid, but their increasingly small mindedness and old-person energy.
I say this because I recently watched this …
I am sure there will be people out there who will say it’s unprofessional.
That her actions are encouraging her child to be more ‘needy and demanding’.
That she just made a huge career limiting move, undermining all the hard work she has put in.
And they’re entitled to their opinion except it doesn’t matter.
Not in the slightest, however much you think it does or tell yourself it does.
Hell, even if you were one of the judges critiquing her dance, it doesn’t … because while you may have a certain amount of power in your hands in terms of what the implications of her actions will be, the reality is they won’t care.
Because whatever you think is more important than their child, you’re wrong.
They may do things you wouldn’t.
They may value things that you think they shouldn’t.
Their child may need things you would never consider.
But it’s NOT YOUR CHILD so it literally doesn’t matter.
In fact, unless you think the child is in real danger – or a cause of real danger to others – you should be minding your own business. And even if they are in – or causing – danger, your actions should be pointed to people who can legally or professionally help, rather than think you have unconditional rights.
I love what this gymnast did.
For me, it was beautiful both in terms of her talent and her love.
Even more so, at a time where Linkedin is overflowing with people acting like ‘winning justifies any sacrifice’.
With AI impacting our lives in increasingly dramatic ways, ‘family’ is the one thing AI can never replace.
It will try.
But it will fail.
Because while family is universal, it’s deeply personal and individual … which is why the best advice for anyone thinking of discussing/judging/commenting on the innocent actions or behaviour of a child that isn’t yours, is this.
“Are you the parents of the child?”
If not, SHUT THE FUCK UP.
You’re welcome.
Good news: I am away until Friday so you can enjoy a few days peace after that rant-fest.
You’re welcome. Again.
Filed under: 2026, A Bit Of Inspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Authenticity, Business, Childhood, Clients, Comment, Confidence, Creative Development, Creativity, Dad, Effectiveness, Emotion, Empathy, Experience, Family, Friendship, Loyalty, Marketing Fail, Mum, Mum & Dad, Tom Stoppard
First of all a huge thanks to all the people who got in touch about my good eye news yesterday. Given how much your support through the challenge of last year meant to me, you just added the icing on the top.
So back to the post …
A while back, the great playwright, Tom Stoppard, died.
His death affected me because he was someone my family didn’t just respect highly, but knew well.
Especially my Auntie Silvana, who first met him when they worked at the iconic Aldwych theatre, London.
If truth be told, I’d not thought about Tom for years but on hearing he had died, I realized the people in my life who would be the most upset at this news – namely my Mum, Dad and Aunt – had all gone, and somehow that made the news the more potent.
Unsurprisingly, news of Tom’s passing led to many stories about him being told in the international media.
Stories about his talent.
Stories about his stories.
And stories about his integrity.
The word integrity is one that is often overused and incorrectly used.
Too often used to justify a one-off decision and/or a small act of consciousness within a big pattern of complicit acts.
But Tom wasn’t like that.
Even those who would label his decisions as ‘stubborn’ would grudgingly acknowledge – and respect – he was simply being Tom. Doing what he said he would do, regardless of opportunity, pressure, money or fame.
At a time where people and companies will seemingly destroy any relationship, promise or agreement for the ability to squeeze out $1 more than they had before … it’s beautiful Stoppard would never entertain doing such a thing.
Nothing sums this up more than this story of when Spielberg wanted him to write the screenplay for Jaws …
Isn’t that amazing?
It was also smart … because not only did it make Spielberg want to work with him even more, it had the same effect with the people at the BBC.
As I wrote a while back, our industry loves to talk about integrity and relationships but rarely seems to understand what those words actually mean, let alone how deeply entwined and interconnected they are.
As I wrote a while back about a private client of mine – the biggest street fashion investor and most profitable retailer on the planet – powerful, valuable and sustainable relationships aren’t built on convenience, but on inconvenience … and how your actions, honesty, transparency and focus continually demonstrate how you never lose sight of what you’re building together, how you want to build it and what each other is able to do because of it.
Also known as integrity.
Thank you Tom. We need more people like you … or at least acting like you.
Filed under: Attitude & Aptitude, Comment, Love, Loyalty, Mum, Mum & Dad, My Childhood, Respect
Today would have been my Mum’s 93rd birthday.
The only thing more amazing than that is that it means she has been gone a decade.
The irony is that while Mum is always in my life, it’s the anniversaries – specifically birthdays and death – where her absence is more of the focus.
And what an absence it is.
I’ve talked a lot about her generosity, but what was so amazing about it was how she expressed it in a multitude of ways …
Time, patience, open-mindedness, forgiveness, resilience, encouragement … it was all on offer, all of the time.
She had the ability to acknowledge her perspective was always just that – hers – and so disengaging from that allowed her to listen, learn, understand and grow from people expressing their realities.
That didn’t mean she always agreed with what she heard, but she did always give the space, environment and conditions that allowed others to show, share and say what they felt and believed.
It was a superpower to be honest, and one – as I grow older – I feel is even more important than ever before.
She’d be aghast at where the world is right now.
Growing up in Italy during World War 2 – with her family as part of the resistence – her sense of righteousness was cemented early and deeply, but now …
Well, decency has gone out the window.
I don’t just mean in the obvious ways … but the small.
People not bothering to respond to you.
People always having self interest in every action and interaction.
People believing their needs and contexts trump everyone else’s.
But Mum was not like that. If anything, she was too much the other way.
Everyone liked and respected my Mum because she gave them 3 things regardless of situation, context of background.
Time.
Respect.
A desire to understand rather than judge.
This last point is especially important because, as I wrote in 2017, even the military and police have understood the power of nonjudgmental understanding as a potent interview technique.
The point is, we hear all these politicians, businesses, celebrities and Linkedin luminaries bang on about how they have the solution/system to sort everything out … and yet I’ve not heard one of them talk about the importance of time, respect and an environment for understanding rather than judgement.
Which is why I can’t help but feel, one of the key reasons we’re in the state we’re in is because of this decade of absence.
Mum, I love you.
Happy, happy 93rd birthday.
I hope you’re with Dad, holding hands and I hope you’ve never been missed so much and by so many as you are today.
Big kisses and hugs.
Rx
Filed under: Advertising, Age, Aspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Authenticity, Career, Cliches, Emotion, Empathy, Mum, Mum & Dad, My Childhood, Prejudice, Pride
I’m back … well, at least in terms of this blog.
And while last week was a detour from what it was supposed to be, it ended up being very important given the rollercoaster I experienced with my health and some other stuff. But the good news is the help and support I received from so many has helped set me up for a slightly batshit crazy week [in a good way] the week after next – before a truly once-in-a-lifetime stupid week in early 2026 which – which for an impatient-as-fuck only child, is about as big a compliment as I can give.
Yes, I get that’s a big call, but how can it not be when it involves a true global legend/icon/god/hero [delete where appropriate, except they’re all of them]!!!
I should point out my excitement is not because of their fame … but because of the things they do that make a real difference and impact to millions around the World, in ways so many brands often talk about with their ‘brand purpose’ but rarely ever do anything with. Mainly because most of them see ‘purpose’ as a marketing gimmick/wrapper rather than an instrument for fundamental and actual change.
It’s why Paula and I talked about what brands and advertising can learn from artists at Cannes this year … but it seems we would rather blindly follow frameworks, models and rebadged established principals being peddled by certain people/organizations [despite having never made products or work that have driven commercially valuable societal change] than learn from the artists who continually out-play, out-think, out-last, out-innovate and out-influence the marketing industry with their endless resources.
And we wonder why we are failing?
Thanks for making me angry, it will help fight off the jet lag, ha.
Anyway, I appreciate the title of this post may sound heavy – especially for a Monday morning – but given aging is something every single one of us is going to face at some point, it felt worth writing. Even more so, given I didn’t really write it … I’m just publishing the words of a 95 year old actress that really resonated with me.
Not just because I’m old … not just because despite being 55, I’m still ambitious and have things I want to do and achieve … not just because I’m still working at the sharp end of an industry that loves killing people over 40 … but because it reminds me so much of my Mum’s attitude to life.
Wanting to keep growing and participating in life – regardless of her age.
Not in an attempt to ‘be young’, but with a desire to stay connected to what is going on around her. To be able to contribute, understand, explore and learn.
I’ve written a lot about this in the past.
How she decided to learn Russian, aged 60.
How she would go to shows by new artists – be it in film, music or comedy.
How she would take an active interest in hearing counter perspectives so she had a rounded view.
Basically – as she instilled in me – to be interested in what other people are interested in.
So she wouldn’t feel disconnected.
So she wouldn’t be disconnected.
So she could be engaged and active.
In many ways, Mum was driven by a desire to not play to the elderly person stereotype. Not because she wanted to be young, but because she didn’t want others to define the life she wanted to experience and live. The older I get the more I realise what an amazing role-model she was for me. To me. And while I don’t have her brains or talent, I definitely have her independence to follow the path I believe in or am excited by … rather than what many others would like me to follow.
Which leads me to the article I want to post.
It’s by the actress Patricia Routledge – better known as Mrs Bucket [pronounced, according to her, ‘Bouquet’] from the 90’s TV show, ‘Keeping Up Appearances’.
She wrote it a month before her 95th birthday [FYI: she sadly died, aged 96½, on Oct 3rd] and its a brilliant piece for anyone who is worried that if they haven’t ‘made it’ by a certain age – the chances of it are over. It’s also a great reminder that so much of the good things in life owe as much to luck as they do to talent.
Given it’s a Monday – a day where insecurities and struggles often come to the forefront – I hope this makes you look ahead with a little more optimism, energy and hope than you may otherwise have imagined. While it is all excellent, there are a couple of points that I think are some of the best ways to look at life that I’ve ever read. Which is why with all the challenges and fears we face, embrace, invite and are faced with … we could all do with being ‘more Bucket’. Enjoy.
I’ll be turning 95 this Monday. In my younger years, I was often filled with worry — worry I wasn’t quite good enough, that no one would cast me again, that I wouldn’t live up to my mother’s hopes. But these days begin in peace, and end in gratitude.
My life didn’t quite take shape until my forties. I had worked steadily — on provincial stages, in radio plays, in West End productions — but I often felt adrift, as though I was searching for a home within myself that I hadn’t quite found.
At 50, I accepted a television role that many would later associate me with — Hyacinth Bucket, of Keeping Up Appearances. I thought it would be a small part in a little series. I never imagined it would take me into people’s living rooms and hearts around the world. And truthfully, that role taught me to accept my own quirks. It healed something in me.
At 60, I began learning Italian — not for work, but so I could sing opera in its native language. I also learned how to live alone without feeling lonely. I read poetry aloud each evening, not to perfect my diction, but to quiet my soul.
At 70, I returned to the Shakespearean stage — something I once believed I had aged out of. But this time, I had nothing to prove. I stood on those boards with stillness, and audiences felt that. I was no longer performing. I was simply being.
At 80, I took up watercolor painting. I painted flowers from my garden, old hats from my youth, and faces I remembered from the London Underground. Each painting was a quiet memory made visible.
Now, at 95, I write letters by hand. I’m learning to bake rye bread. I still breathe deeply every morning. I still adore laughter — though I no longer try to make anyone laugh. I love the quiet more than ever.
I’m writing this to tell you something simple:
Growing older is not the closing act. It can be the most exquisite chapter — if you let yourself bloom again.
Let these years ahead be your treasure years.
You don’t need to be famous. You don’t need to be flawless.
You only need to show up — fully — for the life that is still yours.
With love and gentleness, Patricia Routledge.”
___________________________________________________________________________________________
How amazing is that?
Which is why if anyone needs a reminder of how to actually live life – rather than just go through it – then I think these two sentences sum it up best for me:
“Growing older is not the closing act. It can be the most exquisite chapter — if you let yourself bloom again.”
And …
“You only need to show up — fully — for the life that is still yours.”
Thank you Patricia. I am pretty certain there are a hell of a lot of people who needed to hear that or be reminded of it. Especially on a Monday morning.