The Musings Of An Opinionated Sod [Help Me Grow!]


You Can’t Create Something Special With Passive Passengers …

Following on from yesterday’s post about Duran Duran, we have another musical post.

Except this isn’t about exploitation and re-definition, this is more a ‘blast from the past’.

I know this is going to make me sound old – it will also make me sounds a total hypocrite given I’ve always loved music for its melody, rhythm and vibe rather than its lyrics – but I got sent this clip of a crowd at a Pearl Jam gig from a few years ago and I love it.

OK, so part of it is because I like Pearl Jam.

Another part is because I have always loved the song they’re performing – Black – which is on what I consider their finest album, Ten.

God, that album is magnificent. I remember being blown away when I first heard it – probably in the Tap and Tumbler, around the corner from Rock City where anyone going to Friday Rock Night would head before a night of head-banging.

But whereas back then, my favorite song was ‘Alive’ … the lyrics of Black pulled me in over the years.

“I know someday you’ll have a beautiful life
I know you’ll be a star in somebody else’s sky
But why, why, why can’t it be
Oh, can’t it be mine?”

Maybe it’s because I became more of a sentimental, romantic fool … but I find them so beautiful. And as I said, I’ve never really been a lyrics guy … hell, I can’t even remember lyrics to songs I wrote back in the Bangkok Shakes/Virgin Records days. But those … oh I fell in love with them, probably the first time I saw Pearl Jam live [1992] and heard the crowd sing them, like in the video above.

For someone who is not religious, when I hear a crowd sing, it becomes very spiritual for me. A transcendence into something I can’t quite explain. A feeling of deep connection with those around me with a deep belief we’re creating something special together. It’s why I also love pentecostal music … except, like most music for me, it has little to do with the words, and more the vibe and emotion.

But ‘Black’ is different …

Probably because it reflects a specific time in my life where I was balancing joy and pain in equal measure. Coming into a time of my life of freedom and exploration but also deeply aware of a darkness that was seemingly trying to engulf all that was important in my life. With that in mind, I can’t think of a more perfect band to create the soundtrack to your life like Pearl Jam.

And while watching that clip does take me back to those times, it is superseded by a general feeling of joy. Watching the crowd not just witness something special, but being an active participant in the moment. Acting like their own instrument. A crowd infected by audience members scattered all around who show and lead the way for them to form an impromptu orchestra of vocal harmony and cacophony. It’s fucking beautiful … amplified by the fact there’s few camera phones. Not experiencing the moment through a screen. But a total connection and presence.

Hey, I’m as guilty as the next person for videoing and photographing gigs … it’s a way to capture a significant moment you can enjoy for years. But I do wonder if it is ever quite as significant as you would get just being there, lost in nothing but the sounds and emotions you’re all creating and feeling together.

It’s why I find it interesting more and more artists are saying their concerts are ‘smartphone free zones’. Not because – like in the 80’s – they had sold the photographic rights to concert images to a 3rd party, but because when an audience looks at them through the screen, they feel there’s a barrier between them and the energy they get back from the crowd.

As I’ve written before – both here and here – it’s a two-way street.

And while some may say, “it’s not my job to make the band feel good because I’ve paid them money to make me feel good” they’re missing the point.

Because while it’s true money ensures you receive a certain level of passion, consideration, commitment and effort from the artist in their performance … the more you contribute to the experience, the more you all get out of it.

It’s why the best creative work isn’t made for clients who dictate and judge, but those who appreciate they play an important and integral role in creating the conditions for it to go – and get to – magical places.

In the creative journey, there is no room for passengers.

And yet, too many carry energy vampires and toxic stowaways.

The sooner clients get this, procurement departments get this, marketing practice ‘guru’s’ get this, media agencies get this and ad agencies get this … the sooner we will all be able to create moments that deeply connect to rather than just shout and bore.

It’s down to us.

It won’t happen by itself.

So what happens next is down to all of us.

One by one. Job by job. Meeting by meeting.

It won’t be easy, but my god … it will be worth it.

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55 Years Of Being Present, Despite Being Dead For 9,497 Days …

So today is the 26th year of Dad dying.

Given I’ve written this blog for almost 2 decades, you’d think I’d have said all that needed to be said about him – and in some ways, you’d be right – however, despite the fact that next year he’ll have been gone for over half my life [so far], he is arguably more a part of my day-to-day reality than ever.

I talk about him.
I think about him.
I reference his learnings and lessons in how I live my life and do my job.

He’d probably love that I do this, though I can’t help but feel he’d also ask “why?”.

Of course, part of it is because I love him and miss him – but more than that, the older I get, the more I appreciate how great he was.

As I’ve written before, my Mum and Dad blessed me with an epic childhood.

A life overflowing with the full force of their total love and support, even when I tested it to varying degrees and extremes.

They were compassionate, considerate and continually encouraged me to find and follow my own path … even when it went against what they wished I’d do.

And most of all, they ensured they sheltered me from many of the challenges and hardships we faced over the years, so that I could forge my life rather than be held back by theirs.

In terms of unconditional love, they were the posterchild for it.

But please don’t think they were walkovers …

While they were willing to let me explore, they wanted to ensure I’d really considered what I was doing or wanting to do.

Not so they could talk me out of it, but so they could understand it. Have a deeper appreciation of what was driving me so they could both encourage it and make sure my eyes were open to the realities of it.

It’s why they encouraged me to be a studio musician when they would have loved me to go into law. It’s why they pushed me to continue with my move to Australia when Dad had his stroke before I left. It’s why they taught me the importance of fulfilment when most parents were fixated on achievement. It’s why they let me follow Queen around Europe when I was 15 when most parents demanded their kids stay at home.

Incredible, eh?

But the thing is, I didn’t know that at the time.

If truth be told, there were times where I thought my parents were holding me back … cramping my style … oppressing my dreams.

And while I worked out I was being a bit of a fuckwit, I didn’t really realise how much of one I was being until I heard about other people’s parents and when I became one myself.

Because on top of all the advice and support they gave me, the big thing was they were always present.

In my life and by my side.

Be it for homework, parent/teacher evenings, birthday parties or just bad days … they were there. Standing in my corner … supporting me … encouraging me and being interested in me and my life.

What a fucking gift …

And yet, because it was part of my normality, I took it for granted … never realizing the effort and sacrifice it took for them to make sure they were always there.

And they made some major sacrifices.

Not just in terms of time … but also in terms of their choices, career, money and opportunity.

And I was immune to much of it because they didn’t want me to know – either because they knew I’d try and talk them out of it or because they feared it would add pressure on me to justify whatever I was doing instead.

Do I understand their reasons for doing that?

Yeah … I do.

But what I understand even more is how hard it must have been to keep doing it … and I say this as a Dad who loves his son but has still moved him to 4 radically different countries [so far] in just 10 years.

[And don’t get me started on how many times I’ve made my wife move]

Which hopefully all goes to help explain why my Dad plays so much in my present … more and more, I realise how fortunate I was.

How fortunate I am.

He – like Mum – created the space and time for me to fill on my terms, rather than expect me to fit in with whatever they had available.

They enabled me to be part of their life rather than an accessory to it.

Believing their role was to teach me how to make the best decisions for my life rather than telling me what to do.

That forging my own path would be the ultimate demonstration that they did good.

So, it’s a shame that for all their generosity, it’s kinda-backfired.

Because so much of what I’ve done and do is driven by my desire to make them metaphorically proud.

To let them know I didn’t take their lessons and sacrifices for granted.

It’s one of the reasons I have kept living around the world, because I feel it would be disrespectful to ‘go back’ when they sacrificed so much to let me go. It’s also why I keep running towards the exciting and unknown … because for me, it’s a way to demonstrate I value a life of fulfillment over a life of easy contentment.

Whether they would think agree with what I’ve done is anyone’s guess.

There would definitely be some stuff they’d be shaking their head at, but I hope overall, they’d be proud.

I hope overall they’d smile and see I’m trying to make as much out of what I’ve got.

It’s my way of honoring them.

Of ensuring that while they’ve gone – their impact is still here.

With me. With love.


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Goodbye To You And To 2024 …

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.

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Who We Are Is Not Who We Were …

A few weeks ago, I found myself wandering around Marina Del Ray, in LA.

It’s an area I know well given I both worked and lived relatively near the place a few years ago.

Anyway, as I was strolling around, I was looking at the boats moored along the marina. Be under no illusion, you need a bunch of cash to own a boat in LA and even more to be able to afford to keep it in a shared dock – but that’s the thing about Los Angeles, it’s a place of financial extremes.

There were all manner of boats in all manner of shapes and sizes … but the thing that grabbed my attention was their choice of names.

I love hearing what people call things.

Years ago, with cynic, we did a project with a video rental company [told you it was years ago] which included us exploring the ‘passwords’ people had on their account.

We didn’t know whose account it was – or the details of the recipient – it was just a list of random passwords. Anyway, it was pretty fascinating.

No random letters or numbers.

In fact, nothing approaching any level of security protocol whatsoever.

Instead, it seemed to be words that reflected a family ‘trait’, an individual’s alter-ego or something mischievous that the creator forgot would have to be said out loud to the store assistant every time they rented a film.

I say this because as I looked at the boats, there seemed to be a similar approach to its naming protocol.

Of course a boat name is very different to a password, but for all the choices you have, many seemed to fall into certain groups.

+ Reference to life on ‘the high seas’.
+ An individual persons name.
+ A sea-reference pun.
+ Or a mark of achievement …

… of which, none was better than this.

For those who can’t read it properly, it’s called, ‘Dream Worked’.

I have to say, I bloody love it.

Of all the names I saw, this was arguably the most honest.

A statement that whether through hard work, luck or other means … their ambition to own a boat in LA had come off.

They’d done it.

Hit the goal.

I wanted to meet the owner. To hear their story. To understand their journey.

Was the boat the prize or a byproduct of it?

Maybe my interest in the boat was because we all like a good news story. Or because I like learning how – and why – people do stuff. Or maybe it’s simply because I’m approaching that point in life where you’re running out of time for dreams to work and so you’re questioning what you’ve done or still want to do.

This is not in any way trying to say I’ve suffered.

If I’m being honest, the life I live is beyond anything I could ever have imagined or hoped for. Probably more than my teachers imagined for me too.

But despite being 54, I still have a lot of ambitions.

Things I want to do.
Things I want to try.
Things I want to see.
Things I want to achieve.

However – as I’ve mentioned many times – the older you get, the more you realise not only will you not be able to do all of them, you won’t even be able to pursue all of them. You have to be more focused with your energy and time. You need to prioritize rather than chase down every rabbit hole.

Frankly, that part of growing older is shit especially as I’m someone whose entire bloody life has been chasing the intrigue, the possibility and the creative opportunity. But whether I like it or not, I’m slowly learning how important it is to be more measured in my choices if I want to keep moving forward rather than standing still.

Sure I’ve had to accept I’ll be working at a different pace than before.
Sure I’ve had to accept I’ll be working from a different place than before.
But it means I don’t have to accept what others expect me to do and frankly, that’s all the motivation I need.

However despite all this, growing older in your career does ask questions of you.

Uncomfortable questions.

You realise your relevance in the industry you work in is reducing.

Your abilities haven’t – quite the opposite – but their desire to hear or work with it has.

And it can feel like you’re being left behind when you’ve got so much still to give.

Like you’re screaming in a vacuum that no one gives a shit about, hahaha.

A while back I saw a quote from an ex-footballer than summed this up perfectly …

I get it. We all will at some point …

It really forces you to question who you are and what you’ve done.

And how you deal with it defines where you can go with it.

So while it was more luck than judgement, I consider myself very fucking lucky that I fell into a new chapter of my life … where I have got to learn, express and discover how my creativity can be used in new ways with incredibly talented new people … the best and most successful of the best and most successful … who, despite all they’ve achieved, value what you do and bring far more than who you are and what you have.

I’m under no illusion it could all end tomorrow, but it’s going great right now and the stuff I’m getting to do and be a part of is not just creatively exciting, it’s allowing my creative ambitions to flex and be pushed.

To be able to do that at any age is awesome, but to do it at 54 – alongside rockstars, fashion gods and creative legends – is fucking incredible.

Which is why I realized – as I walked around those boats in Marina Del Ray – that if I had a boat, I wouldn’t call it ‘Dream Worked’ … it would be ‘The Dreams Working’ … because to be at this point of life and still be able to look forward and see exciting possibilities rather than just look back at what you’ve done, feels like the greatest achievement of all.

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As an aside, today is the 3rd annual ‘Fuck Off And Pie’ Colenso Planner Bake-Off competition.

A time where, contrary to this post, I am reminded I’m the biggest failure of all time.

Or should I say the ‘silver medal’ biggest failure.

I’ll let you know if I maintain this standard or – god forbid – achieve gold loser status.

Given this years theme is ‘birthday cake’ I’m in with a shot and to be honest I like what I’ve done.

Not just in the fact it tastes pretty good – no, seriously – but because I’ve created a design and theme that will never be forgotten. Especially by our HR department. And probably by my colleagues and team mates who run the risk of spending Christmas with gastro. The gift that keeps on giving. Cue: Evil laugh.

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Sometimes It Takes 20 Years For Something To Make Sense …
December 4, 2024, 6:15 am
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.

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